> Iron Chevelle: A Fullmetal Flank Companion
>  by Snap Shot
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I got stationed in a company of misfits, I thought to myself as we circled Fort A for our final approach. 
Looking down, I could see our small encampment; it looked like it had been through hell and that wasn’t too far from the truth. The outer walls were in shambles and had been patched with whatever materials could be found, giving it about the same uniform consistency of a quilt that had seen better days. Most startling was the command center. One wall had collapsed as though it were a sand castle kicked in by the hoof of some giant bully. 	
Most of the leaders had managed to escape before the roof of the building caved in, not that it had mattered in the end. After that little brush with death, our commanding Lieutenant abandoned his post. It was the only smart thing I’d ever seen the LT do, but when he deserted after the first attack, he took dozens of others with him, leaving even fewer soldiers to fend off the following enemy offensives.    
My wingman and I came in for our landing; I watched as our own lightning turrets tracked us as we came in. 
Heh, as if the Charlie Bravos could sprout wings, I thought cynically. 
I watched the black pegasus who served as my wingman give a little bow to the ground crew as his hooves touched the ground. Show Off had been an actor in his previous life, and every now and then was prone to some dramatics. Truth be told, at this stage, we all were. 
Everyone was sick of the fighting and we were isolated. The medical bay was full of wounded and the jungle full of enemies. To cap it off, we were running low on food, ammunition, basic comforts and hope.  
Our tactician had repeatedly sent requests for supplies and reinforcements, but those requests had fallen on deaf ears. I can’t really fault the IO; she’s doing the best that she can and it was thanks to her brilliance and strategies that we were still alive.   
We walked slowly through the camp, watching the others go about their duties. It was obvious that morale was at an all time low, and that was saying something for the fort. We tried our best to keep our heads up for the others as we arrived at the newly rebuilt command center. 
After the destruction of the old building, a makeshift war room had been erected out of books of all things. A mint green unicorn was waiting for us outside the structure; it was Famosity; she must have heard that we had returned
She was a strange pony for sure. For an intelligence officer, she had a horrible sense of direction but possessed the ability to magically draw in mid-air and could replicate any map from a bare description. Her tactics had saved many lives in the last two attacks, helping the unit to overcome our numerical disadvantage. Unfortunately, most of the company was afraid of her, not because she was the only remaining officer, but because she was a chaotic. Chaotics were members of an obscure religion who worshipped the master of chaos, not that it mattered to me and Show. The war had brought us together, as a family; albeit a dysfunctional one. Show Off’s eyes were hidden beneath the visor of his helmet, but I knew he was staring at her.    
“You know Show, I think you and her would make a cute couple.” I teased him, nodding to the unicorn that was now waving at us. 
“Get stuffed, Shutterbug!” He said darkly, but a smile played at the corners of his mouth. 
Shutterbug was the callsign that the squadron gave me; my real name is Snap Shot. I used to be a photojournalist for a Trottingham news rag before the fighting broke out. The majority of my lame assignments meant I had to spend most of the time tailing d-list celebrities out of nightclubs. It wasn’t exactly the job I had envisioned when I took up photography as a colt. I thought this war was going to be my big break; I made sure I was first on this list as a correspondent…until I ran into the draft board. I was now getting a much closer look at the war than I had ever wanted. 
He lifted his visor so I could see him roll his eye then trotted up to the intelligence officer and saluted. She returned the salute but I could have sworn that she batted her eyelashes at him.   
“Chevelle Flight reporting in, Ma’am. We need to speak with the Sergeant,” Show said authoritatively, “Top priority.” 
Famosity disappeared into the makeshift building. 
The pair of us waited outside for what seemed like an eternity, it always seems that way when you are the bearer of bad news. 
“The Sergeant will see you now,” the unicorn said poking her head out.
I followed Show through the canvas flap that served as a door. 
The interior of the war room was bare, save for a cot and a table. The table was occupied by Quill Weave, our commander. 
Reporting into Quill was always an interesting experience. He would write down everything you said, like he was some sort of stenographer. It was a little unnerving at first, until I realized that he was an author before he volunteered for service in the REA. I had never read any of his works but they were supposed to be alright; if I ever got out of here alive I might have to pick one up. 
When I met the First Sergeant, he was primped and preened like some silly show-pony. His black mane and green coat had always been groomed and his moustache trimmed to perfection but the war had taken its toll. His hair was now caked with mud and his face looked as rough as a pony twice his age. Even though he had lost his looks as the battles raged, he gained something much greater; my respect and the respect of all those under his command.     
We entered and saluted. 
“Corporal Show Off reporting in, sir!” My wingman said.
“Sitrep, Corporal,” came the Sergeants reply. It was almost as if he sensed what we were about to say. 
“We think the CBs may be preparing to mount an attack, sir,” Show Off reported, “they’re massing forces on our right flank.”
The sergeant’s pencil scratched against his notepad. 
“They know we took some casualties in the last skirmish; they are probably going to try and finish us this time.” Famosity said her voice strangely morose. “Quill, I think our briskets are on the barbecue on this one.” 
She slowly began to draw a map of the area in mid-air with her magic. I was always impressed when I saw her do this but I would never admit it. 
“The enemies will be in this general area, right?” She said, indicating a position west of our location. 
“Yes ma’am,” replied Show.
“They are probably going to circle around and try to surround us, and if what we saw was correct…” I stopped myself, realizing that I had stepped into the IO’s territory but as she didn’t seem offended I continued. “…it may happen tomorrow.” 
She drew more diagrams on the map; blue for our forces and red for the opposition. The amount of red on the map compared to our own little handful of blue was disheartening but I knew her numbers were correct. We were barely able to fend off the last attack. This one would crush us. 
The three of us looked over at Quill, who seemed surprisingly calm in the face of our impending doom. 
“Sir?” Show asked. “What should we do?”
Quill looked up at the map, as though seeing it for the first time before he turned his attention back to the pad on his desk. 
“Sir!” Show insisted.
“Calm down, corporal.” Quill said in a level voice, not taking his eyes off his notepad.
The two of us waited for his answer; the silence in the room started to weigh down on our backs. 
Quill scratched out a few more notes before finally addressing us. 
“Our orders from Celestia are to hold this hill...” he began soberly.
That was not what I wanted to hear. I had dodged enough gumballs and seen enough death that I didn't want to face my own. Show Off shifted nervously from hoof to hoof next to me; I could tell he was thinking the same thing. The two of us had barely survived the last encounter with the few natural talents that we had and an insane amount of luck. Luck, part of which was that the CBs weren’t born with wings so they weren’t meant to fly; that was our best advantage over them. 
Quill began to speak again and we snapped back to attention. 
“But it seems that Celestia has abandoned us. You are all aware of the severity of our situation, I’m sure; we are running low on medical supplies, weapons, ammunition and food, and our requests for aid have been repeatedly ignored.”
Quill gave us a stern gaze, I wasn’t sure if he were trying evaluate our reactions or to find some approval of his assessment.  
“I believe we now have two options: stay here and die, or retreat. Either way, this position is lost, and I don’t intend to throw everyone’s lives away for a hopeless cause. Famosity, what is our best exit strategy?”
The IO seemed shocked at his question, but she shook herself before turning to her map. 
“Ahem. Sergeant, our best option would be to retreat north, cutting through the tree line. That way we can pass unnoticed through the jungle and hopefully meet up with the REA vanguard.” She hesitated. “But it will be a difficult trek; we have a lot of wounded from the last attack.”
The First Sergeant nodded before closing his notepad and standing. 
“Very well. Start the evacuation immediately, I want us to be ready by dawn. Destroy everything we can’t carry with us. I’ll not leave anything behind for those bucking CBs to salvage,” he said, more to the room than to anyone in particular. He then turned to us. 
“Flyers!” We snapped to attention. “I hate to ask this of you, but I need you to cover our retreat. You two are the best in your squadron. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes sir!” We replied in unison, and I was grateful Show’s voice helped hide the fear in my own. 
The truth was that we weren’t the best in our squadron; heck we probably didn’t even make the top ten. But out of the forty original pegasi stationed at Fort A, we were the only two left that weren’t dead or wounded.  Show managed to do a better job at hiding his fear; it was times like these that I wish I had taken acting classes. 
“We’ll rest up a little, and then begin our patrol,” he replied with impressive bravado. 
The Sergeant seemed to relax a little at the statement. He addressed us in an almost cordial tone. “Thank you fellows, you’re good stallions. I’ll make sure your rations are doubled tonight. Dismissed.”
We both saluted and left the tent. 
“Double Rations?” I asked cynically once we were out of earshot, “So I guess that means well get a proper half ration?”
“Enough of that,” Show said. “It’s more than most of the other soldiers are getting; be grateful.” 
I sighed at the bereavement; he was right, this was no time to be selfish. 
“Sorry,” I said sheepishly. 
“It’s okay. We’re both burned out from this place, I understand. Let’s just get our food and get some sleep.” 
“Alright.”
The two of us walked in silence to the Mess Hall. The company dining hall was aptly named; everything that came out of it was a mess. Tonight’s menu was thistle soup, the cook was obviously stretching or remaining rations as far as they would go but it made for some pretty bland eating. I sighed at the meager offering.
“I never thought I’d miss the food in Trottingham.” I complained to myself, quietly. 
Show heard me and gave me a big smile. 
“Ah well, if you close your eyes and just suck it down it don’t taste so bad.” 
He tilted his head to look at me.
“Trottingham? You don’t sound like you are from that side of the country. I thought you were from Cloudsdale like me.”
“I am, I just worked there.” I explained, happy to have any conversation about something other than battle. “The food…wasn’t fantastic. Except for this one place, Eachan O’Merlyn’s, they had the best lily and carrot turnovers on the face of the planet.”
“Speaking of lilies, you ever have a lily sandwich from Sal’s in downtown Cloudsdale?”
“You had to bring up Sal’s, didn’t you? I love the…”    
The ruckus from outside grew louder as ponies were breaking down the camp.
“We better hit our racks before they bring this place down around our ears.” Show said comically. 
“Yeah.” I agreed.
Sleep never came easily to me at Fort A; it was always haunted by ghosts of the past. That night I dreamed of our first encounter with the enemy, the first time that I ever saw some pony die. I remember following the flyer in front of me as he took a bullet through the throat and fell from the sky. I dove after him but there was nothing I could do; the shot had killed him. 
I was almost happy when Show Off woke me at the break of dawn. 
“Mission time,” he said with a yawn.
I rolled out of bed groggily. I never did figure out how Show was always able to get up that early, but I always had to shake myself to get going. 
We made our way over to the outfitting station. The ground crew was already waiting for us with our weapons. We ate our meager breakfast in the prep area as the earth ponies fitted us with our gear. It was pessimistic on my part but I couldn’t help but wonder if this would be my last meal. I quickly shook that thought out of my head; as a combat flyer I couldn’t have that thought in my head. 
I looked over a Show who was now collecting his blood encrusted helmet. The “I ‘heart’ Luna” that was painted on the front had smeared but the hashes gouged in the side were clear. Each slice in the leather down to the burnished metal indicated a kill scored; the two fresh ones glistening in the sun were a reminder of our last mission. 
Grabbing my own helmet I slipped it on, slapping the side with a hoof to make sure that it fit securely. I moved the radio mic piece closer to my mouth. 
“Lunatic you read me?” I asked Show. 
“Loud and clear, Shutterbug.” he replied.
The whole squadron called him “Lunatic” because of the fascination that he had with the princess. He used to joke around that the reason he volunteered for duty was the slight chance that he could earn a kiss from Princess Luna. I don’t really blame him; we all had to have our little vices and crushes. Even Quill had a photo that he kept on his desk, signed to him by the elegant white unicorn with the purple mane featured within its silver frame.  
I took out my own vice; a silver dragon scale that I kept around my neck. I gazed longingly at the initials scratched in it. Memories came flooding back to me as I kissed it. I was snapped back to reality by the sound of my dog tags clinking together next to it. I quickly tucked my good luck charm back into my flight suit and thanked the ground crew.
Quill trotted up to us; he had already been armed with his own weapons. We saluted and stood at attention, but the Sergeant dismissed us with a wave of his hoof. 
“There’s no time for that, corporals,” Quill insisted. “Get yourselves armed and in the air. If ever the CBs were going to attack, it’s now. Keep a sharp eye out and report anything you see.” 
“Yes sir!” We shouted and galloped to the landing pads. 
Show started going through his pre-flight exercises, and I followed suit. Kneel down, stretch your wings, flap twice; running through the paces to make sure everything was in working order. 
Behind us we could hear the camp being evacuated. It was sobering to know that all of those souls were now our responsibility. 
Show addressed the controller on duty. 
“Chevelle Flight to Control” He said through the radio. 
A panicked voice rang loudly in my ears. 
“This is control. What is it?” The stallion’s voice replied. 
Show’s tail swished back and forth in annoyance with the speaker.
“Chevelle Flight requesting permission to takeoff.” 
Both of us knew that this was just a formality; there were no other available flyers so the skies would be clear. But simply out of habit--and superstition--we called in our request. It seemed that the flight controller didn’t share our view on the take off procedure.
“Yeah, whatever!” the ground controller said hastily. 
There was a rustle of feathers and a cloud of dust enveloped me as I took to the sky. I formed up with Lunatic as he climbed. 
“Control, what’s our heading?” Show requested.
“We are bugging out Chevelle Flight! Make your own bucking waypoints!” Control shouted back at us. 
“Jeeze, that guy has a parasprite up his ass.” I said.
“I heard that Chevelle two.” The voice on the other end of the line sounded angry. 
“That’s because I transmitted it control,” I chided. 
“Enough chatter!” Lunatic interrupted, but I could see the wide smile on his face as he changed his course. “Form up!”
I followed his lead and took up my position on his right flank. Technically neither of us was superior as we were the same rank, so we had tossed a coin to see who would take lead and who would be his wingman. I had lost but it wasn’t really anything to complain about. I wasn’t that good at giving orders anyway and Lunatic seemed to know what he was doing. 
We continued to climb and I looked down at our little camp, a lone clear patch in a see of green trees. We had fought off three major enemy offensives from those walls; I was almost sad to see it go. Not that it mattered much; I would visit that hell every night in my dreams. 
The camp was a bustle of activity but already I could see a line of ponies leaving. Famosity’s mint green coat stood out at the head of the line taking our comrades to safety. 
I wondered if Quill was with her, but I knew that he would stay behind until the last living soul had been carried out. Once he left the only thing that would remain on those grounds would be the ghosts of the fallen. 
We started our patrol and I felt a familiar fear welling up inside me, and had to take a deep breath to steady my nerves. We had been through this a dozen times before, yet every time I found myself having to calm down. No matter how peaceful and blue the sky was, there was always a sense of dread before a battle. I pounded my chest with a hoof and felt a wave of comfort as my dog tags and charm pressed against my skin. 
Slowly the panic ebbed and became a heightened sense of awareness that came from combat experience. The details of the world sharpened; I noticed the blueness of the sky, the intricate movements of Show’s feathers as he flapped and even the details in the ridges of the clouds…My heart stopped. They weren’t clouds.
“Lunatic! Contact, contact, Bravos three o’clock, low!” I shouted into the radio.
The CB’s “fly” using some sort of magical contraption. They look like clouds but they can control them as if they were a chariot being towed by pegasi. More importantly they were heavily armed with CB made weapons. Their guns fired gumballs at deadly speeds, (the ground grunts called them “jawbreakers”.) I had seen how much destruction and death they; “dangerous” wasn’t a good enough term to describe them. 
The CBs weren’t the only ones that were armed though. We had the advantage of unicorn magic and earth pony ingenuity. Early into the conflict, a group of Equestria’s brightest minds in magic and engineering designed a weapon that could bottle and concentrate lighting spells. It was essentially a mobile spell caster, like riding around with a unicorn on your back. That way even those who couldn’t use magic were able to cast lighting when ever they needed to, and we needed to now. 
Show looked off to his right spotting the CBs, he tucked his right wing over and rolled to attack. 
I copied his maneuver as he shouted “Engage” through the radio. 
We dove out of the sun--the Bravos never saw us coming. Lunatic’s gun raked lightning at the lead craft, striking it flush and killing the driver. 
I decided that it would be best to conserve ammo and rammed the trailing craft. Its pilot growled and took a swipe at me with its grimy claws as he was sent toppling over the side and into open space. 
“That’s why you need bucking wings!” I shouted at the magenta figure shrinking into a tiny speck as he plummeted toward the ground. 
Lunatic pulled up next to me. 
“That must have been a scout force; we need to call this in.” 
I nodded and switched my radio to the Fort A channel. 
“Chevelle Two to Fort A Flight Control, we have encountered an enemy scout force. Chevelle Two to Control. Come in Control.”
The only response I received was static. I pointed a hoof skyward, thinking we needed more altitude. My wingman nodded, and we both rose up in the sky. I tried the radio again. 
“Chevelle Two to Fort A Flight Control…please respond Control.” 
This time the channel popped and crackled as a voice come on the line; it was Quill. 
“Go ahead Chevelle Flight. What’s your status?”
I took a deep breath before giving reporting the situation to him.
“We engaged and downed two Bravo's that were on intercept for the camp. We believe they were advanced scouts.”
There was a momentary pause on the other end of the line but Quill responded the way a good commander should. 
“Then the main force will not be far behind. Chevelle Flight, buy us as much time as you can. Keep them away from the wounded and focus on the transports. It will make it easier for us to keep them from bypassing the hill.” He ordered, his voice unwavering.
I didn’t even have to think about my answer. 
“Rodger.” 
I made sure the lightning cannon on my back was functioning properly, the magical pipper on the visor of my fight helmet guided the guns on my back exactly where I was looking. 
“Alright,” I said, satisfied they were tracking properly; I looked over at Show. “Let’s get ready for that main attack force.” 
The black pegasus pointed a hoof at the horizon. 
“They are already here,” he said bluntly. 
I looked to where he was indicating and my heart sank. The sky was filled with little white specks, so dense it looked as though it were a massive storm rolling in. I fought back a brief moment of panic; somewhere in the back of my mind something was telling me to run, simply leave. Then I remembered how many lives depended on me doing my job and I took up my position on Lunatics right flank. 
“Prioritize the transports; we hit them hard enough and the fighters will have to engage us,” he ordered and then he flapped his wings as hard as he could, racing with all possible speed toward the invading force. “Tally ho!” he shouted manically. 
I echoed his war cry and followed him in. 
The shear number of enemies was astonishing. We had better speed and greater agility than they could ever hope for but they had an overwhelming advantage in their weight in numbers. It didn’t bode well for us. A thought echoed through my mind: Stay alive, it said. Every second you stay alive is one more second for them to get the wounded out. I repeated the mantra to myself. Stay alive, get them out. It was the only thought I had. Then there wasn’t time to think.
We struck the enemy like the angry fist of Faust. I managed to down one transport in our first pass and Lunatic splashed two as we turned in unison. We followed our training; follow your wingman in as if you were attached at the hip, strike fast and come around for another pass. 
“You see that?” he shouted, as the transport started to collapse.
“Yeah, yeah. Nice!” I replied with a smile.
The enemy force scattered in panic after out initial strike, and as I turned to start another run I thought we might have an edge in this fight. That hope was crushed as an enemy round clipped my side. I felt blood begin to soak into my flight suit.
They were behind us now, dozens of them. The tactics that we were taught in flight school were meant to deal with similar numbers of allies and enemies; not these overwhelming odds. In the blink of an eye, we had gone from hunters to prey.
“Split!” Lunatic shouted on the radio. “Take evasive!”
I deeked, weaving around the oncoming enemy fighters. As I dodged lines of fire sent my way from their guns, I retaliated with my own lightning and watched as the purple electric connected with a CB in front of me, sending him spiraling past. But it seemed hopeless; no matter how many I struck down it seemed two more would take their place. I could feel them closing in behind me. I looped and chanced a look back, catching a glimpse of the dozen or so Bravos tailing me.
A purple flash drew my attention below as Lunatic sent another transport down. There were half a dozen enemy fighters on his six, chasing him down like wild beasts hungering for a kill.
“Lunatic,” I shouted in my radio, “Mare in the Moon!” 
It was one of his favorite maneuvers that allowed for two ponies to engage enemies that were on each other’s back. It required some tricky flying, but was very effective. 
“Rodger!” He shouted.
“Okay, ordinance coming in hot!” 
I folded my wings and went into a dive, loosing lighting to cut the gap between my wingman and his pursuers. I followed my shots hoping to lose my own tail and possibly cause a collision between the CBs. My lightning clipped one of the Bravos and he fell away from the others; the rest panicked and split. 
Unfortunately for me, one flew right into my path. For an instant time seemed to slow down, I saw him coming toward me; I saw the look in the pilot’s eyes and knew we were thinking the same thing and swearing at the same time. I banked to miss him, but it was too late. There was a gut wrenching crack as my leg made contact with his head. Blinding pain shot through me and I tumbled through the air.  I was falling and completely disoriented; I couldn’t tell up from down. Luckily my instincts saved me; the wings on my back acted on their own accord, spreading at the precise moment to right me.   
I looked up to see Lunatic send another transport down with a bolt. The fighters seemed to have peeled off in order to regroup. I flapped my wings as hard as I could and formed up on Lunatics right flank. I saw blood staining his flight suit, seeping from a wound in his shoulder, slowly turning the green cloth into a crimson sheet. 
“You okay?” he asked me as we saw the enemy forming up.
“I got grazed, and I think my leg's broke...but I can still fight," I replied, grimacing. I indicated his bleeding side with my hoof. "You?"
He turned his head to me and I saw another wound on his cheek. 
“I’ll live,” he said simply, but his breathing was labored. 
We watched helplessly as several of the transports that had slipped in past us after our first attack evaporated close to the ground, depositing their troops for an attack on the fort. The fighters turned to re-engage us. 
“Our guns are almost dry,” Lunatic said between wheezing breaths, “One more pass then we complete Quill’s order and get the buck out of here.” 
I nodded, this was it. 
“One more…One bucking more!” I shouted, and took off toward the enemy. 
We hit them as hard as our condition allowed. A bullet nicked my wing but I shrugged off the lost feathers and put a bolt through the shooters head. We strafed one last transport sending it crashing to earth so rapidly that all it would be was a stain on Equestrian soil. The remaining fighters, once again, scattered like bugs in the light. We used that brief moment of chaos to escape; thank Celestia they weren’t born to fly or that could have ended badly for us. 
We fled the scene as fast as our wings could carry us. We fled from the fighting and the death; from the fear and the panic. Lunatic chanced a look back and slowed to a hover.
“We aren’t being chased,” he said, turning to stare at the place the sortie had taken place. “Either we put the fear of Faust into them…or we weren’t worth the time it would take to hunt us down and kill us. I think we made it, Shutterbug.”  
He lowered his radio; blood from the wound on his cheek dripped off the mouthpiece as he spoke. 
“This is 2nd Chargers Company, Chevelle Flight broadcasting on secure channel. Any friendly forces please respond.”
“Chevelle Flight!” Famosity’s voice echoed in our ears, “Thank Celestia you’re okay. We-we’ve managed to meet up with another company but Quill and some others stayed behind. They haven’t shown up yet.”
We could hear her worry through the radio static. 
“Rodger that. I think we see them, Fam.” Show replied. “We’ll follow those ponies back to your position.” 
He pointed down to the dirt path the camp used to evacuate; I could see several small figures gathered in a recess between two hills.
I could feel my leg beginning to burn with pain as we slowly descended toward the group of ponies. I tried to push it out of my mind and focused on staying with Show. The tattered group of soldiers seemed shell shocked; they watched us with vacant stares as we landed. I found that I couldn’t put any weight on my injured leg so I simply hovered in place while Lunatic addressed the group. 
“Where’s Quill?” he asked.
Both of us held our breath, not really wanting to know the answer. A young tan colt spoke up; he looked as if would never smile again. 
“They-they were supposed to be right behind me!” he said, looking behind him in a panic as if Quill’s ghost were chasing him. “Hot Shot and…the Sergeant…he told us he wouldn’t leave anypony behind.”
I felt my heart sink, if Quill wasn’t here…Suddenly the jungle canopy was bathed in purple light from the direction of the hill. Someone was still alive.
“Alright, keep going on this path and regroup with the rest of the herd.” Show ordered. “We’re going after them.” 
Most of the ponies needed no second bidding, but the colt was hesitant. Show looked at him with pitying eyes. 
“Go private, you’re done fighting today.”
The tan unicorn took one last look at the jungle and followed the others. Lunatic took off toward the jungle and I followed him. 
“Famosity, this is Chevelle flight. Quill’s in trouble; we are going back for him,” my wingman shouted in the radio as we flew at breakneck speeds. 
Her voice came back panicked. 
“Chevelle flight, that’s suicide! The enemy force is too great!” she screamed.
“We have to Fam; we can’t abandon him,” he said in an almost disturbingly calm tone. 
She began to cry, I could almost see the tears rolling down her face. 
“Show, plea…” 
Lunatic turned off the radio, cutting off her sobs. 
“Are you sure?” I asked him, “You heard her.” 
“Quill would come back for us,” he said soberly, “Today is as good a day to die as any.”
I pulled out my dog tags and gave my good luck charm one last kiss. 
“Let’s do it!” I shouted, increasing my speed, “Tally ho!”
We followed the purple flashes to the outskirts of the camp. Quill was there huddled in front of an upturned chariot, standing over a wounded mare, firing relentlessly at the CBs. We saw him take cover as the enemy retaliated; it was painfully obvious that he was about to be overrun. 
Lunatic dove forward, strafing the enemy line, causing them to fall back to their position. 
I used that moment to pull up in front of Quill and tried my best to establish a suppressing fire. 
My wingman came back around, scooping up the injured soldier as he did so, and lifted her into the sky. 
“Go! Go!” I shouted at him. 
There was a moment’s hesitation before he flew off to the north as fast as he could. 
Quill jumped up and helped me cover Lunatic as he fled. 
“I thought I told you to retreat!” he shouted at me.
“Not the bucking time, sir!” I replied between blasts from my guns. 
Something hit my shoulder, knocking me off my wings and into the mud. Stars danced in my eyes from the pain. 
“Get in the air!” I heard Quill shout, and somehow I managed to get airborne again. 
I barely had time to dodge out of the way of the chariot as the Sergeant kicked it down the hill towards the CB’s. 
Quill took off running, and I did my best to follow him but my vision was swimming and I could feel myself getting weaker.  
We managed to put a little bit of distance between the Bravos and ourselves when my wings finally gave out. I felt one cramp up and I tried to push through it but exhaustion and blood loss had taken it’s toll. 
Come on! Flap! I thought but my body wouldn’t respond. 
Doing my best to control my landing, I headed toward the ground. I managed to get all four hooves down, but was wracked with pain as my broken limb made contact with the earth; I crumpled into a heap. 
I heard Quill’s hooves thunder up behind me. 
“Move it, soldier!” he shouted, attempting to lift me up but it didn’t do any good. I couldn’t walk and I couldn’t fly.
Looks like that was my last meal after all. I thought. 
I looked up at Quill; there wasn’t any need for him to stay to be butchered too. 
“I’m done for,” I told him, struggling to get the words out. “Just go!” 
“Like heck,” he swore. I could tell by the determination in his eyes that nothing that I could say would convince him to leave. 
I looked back, seeing the enemy advancing on us, growling like savage beasts that had caught the scent of blood.  I positioned myself to face them; I was at least going to get one or two shots off before they got me. 
“Here they come,” I said weakly. “Tally ho…”
My radio crackled to life, and cheerful voice rang in my ears. 
“This is Lieutenant Butterscotch of the 105th Flyers squadron. Do you need assistance?”
Quill leaned over, and ben in close to the mouthpiece. 
“This is Sergeant Quill Weave; we need air support!”
“Okie Dokie!” the bubbly lieutenant replied. 
I wasn’t in the mood to deal with the cheery pony on the other end of the line. 
“Lieutenant! We are going to die here!” I shouted in the radio. 
“Awww, sounds like someone’s a Grumpy Gus!” 
Purple lighting rained down from the sky onto our pursuers. We could hear their screams as a full squadron of pegasi opened fire on them; then there was nothing but silence. The remaining CB’s must have retreated to the safety of the fort. 
My vision started to fade, and the last thing I remember before blacking out was the medical staff rushing towards me. 
***
The next thing I knew I was in a bed; harsh fluorescent lights radiated the pure white walls causing my eyes to burn. An incessant beeping echoed in my ears making me grit my teeth with each monotone tick. I followed the tube attached to my foreleg up to where a clear fluid was dripping from a glass IV bottle. 
“Hey! You’re awake finally!” a voice next to me said. 
I looked to my right to see Show lying in a bed, white gauze on his face covering a wound. He was either in high spirits or heavily medicated; I wasn’t sure which. 
“How long have I been out?” I asked, noticing the morning sun rising in the window.
“Eh, two days just about. You gave everyone a scare when they brought you in,” he said with a laugh. “Thought you were dead. You should have seen Famosity crying.”
“Plenty of tears then?” I asked sarcastically. “I’m sure you were there to comfort her.” 
“Just enough to let her know that you were alright,” Show replied nonchalantly.  
“So did she taste like mints?” I joked playfully. 
Show grabbed a pillow and made to throw it at me but stopped after receiving a disapproving glare from the staff nurse. 
I smiled at him.  
“Glad to know I’d be missed.” I said, pulling out my lucky charm. “Glad I won’t have to be.” I lovingly ran my hoof over the initials that were carved in the dragon’s scale. 
“I’m happy to see you up, corporal.” Famosity said walking up to us, “And you too Show.” 
She batted her eyelashes at him and smiled sweetly; I could see him blush even under his black coat. 
“Oh, Snap, I get to sign your cast!” Famosity shouted joyfully, waking several sleeping soldiers. 
I was confused. “My what?” I asked her, as she pulled out her magical pencil. That’s when I noticed that my leg had been set in plaster. 
“Aw, bull cookies.” I said quietly. 
Quill walked up to our beds, as she was putting the finishing touches on her name. The First Sergeant was carrying two small boxes containing purple medals. He set them on the bedside table and looked around the room as if he were searching for something. After shifting on his hooves for about a minute, he was finally able to say two words. 
“Thank you.” 
I could tell that he was sincere; he just wasn’t sure how to thank us and still maintain his rank. Not that he really needed to thank us. He did manage to march over a hundred ponies out of hell alive.
“No. Thank you, sir,” I replied. 
He gave me a weak smile. “Your Purple Hoofs,” he stated, indicating the medals on the counter.
Show piped up, his voice as chipper as a colt in spring. “What’s it like not being in command anymore, sarge?” 
I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at the Sergeant’s dumbstruck expression. 
“I still outrank you, corporal.” He growled, his nostrils flaring.  
Show was undeterred by Quill’s threatening tone.
“You can’t blame me, sarge,” he said, his smile growing wider. “It’s the pain medication; it makes me insubordinate.”    
My attention was diverted by the golden medals shining in their boxes. 
“The one thing Celestia gets to us on time and we can’t eat it.”
This sent Quill into a laughing fit,\; it was the first time that I’d seen him laugh since before the lieutenant “gave” him his post. 
“So I suppose they discharged you, huh?” Show asked seriously. 
Quill stopped laughing and his eyes seemed to fill with sadness. “None of us are that lucky.” He stared into space for a moment; I wondered where his thoughts were taking him, “No, they’re shipping me out east. Apparently they require somepony with my ‘practical battlefield leadership experience’. But I suppose it’s not all bad. Maybe…” He drifted off once more.
Famosity looked at him pityingly, “Maybe you’ll see your sweetheart out there, eh?” She said trying to cheer him up. 
A smile played on Quill face at the thought. 
“Well, I guess we better pack.” Show said to break the somber mood; all four of us started laughing. 
It wasn’t because the joke was particularly funny but because we knew that where ever we’d go, we would go together, as friends; as a family. 
What a bunch of misfits they stationed me with, I thought.



FIN

The companion to this story can be found here: http://www.fimfiction.net/story/9751/Full-Metal-Flank