Dog Days

by Chapter 17

First published

An old doctor's skills become irrelevant. A young soldier's squad investigates a noise.

"By the time they get to us there's no saving them."

"Sergeant, the listening post is reporting suspicious activity to the south, and your squad is going to double time it down there and fix any problems you can find."

(Are Over)

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She kept advancing cautiously, ears raised and body poised. Her eyes were of comparatively little use thanks to the thick, acrid smoke surrounding her. The only thing that made the slight burn in her nostrils bearable was thinking about how the ones she hunted would be having it tenfold worse once they deigned to emerge. The mare stopped as she felt the ground below her hooves gently rumble, then slowly lowered her ear to the ground. They were getting closer. She felt a surge of confidence and kept moving, a smirk spreading across her face at the prospect of seeing their big dumb faces when they realized their attempt at surprise had been-

Something punched her entire side and her hooves lost track of where the ground was. She slammed into something solid and then felt her gut lurch briefly as she fell to the ground. Her ears were buzzing and she was simultaneously hit with a wave of panic and the complete inability to make herself do anything about it.

Something grabbed her leg. She kicked reflexively to get it away before it grabbed her again with a tighter grip and started dragging her. Her limbs flailed weakly as the ringing in her ears slowly began to form into muted bursts of sound all around her as she continued failing to stop her captor. As her senses gradually returned, she aimed a more accurate kick with her back leg that actually connected. Something climbed on top of her and struck the side of her helm, sending a clanging shock wave of noise through her skull before it pulled her head upward.

Someone...no, somepony was yelling at her. When she proved unresponsive another inquisitive tap rattled through her head to pull her closer to reality.

“You still with us guardian?!”

“W-what?” she muttered while still in a daze.

The daze wore off rather quickly, replaced with anger when a third tap rattled her helmet.

“I said-”

“I'm here I'm here!” she yelled back to get her support unicorn to knock it off. “What the buck just happened?!” she asked, shouting over the gunfire.

“Breach charge went off right next to you and threw you into the wall of the trench! Dusty opened up on them and I dragged you back before they could rip your throat out!” the unicorn answered whilst magically reforming the dents in her armor and making sure the Trencher and sword attached to the mare's sides were in working order after having weathered that blast. “Hold still a second!”

She did as she was told, looking over at the other two ponies in her squad now using their Sunglaive assault rifles to return fire on the armored bipedal figures emerging into the trench and retreating back around a corner for cover. One of them caught a bullet in their arm, yelping as the limb went limp then letting out an enraged growl as they handed their weapon off to one of their pack-mates and used their newly freed arm to resume firing with a sidearm.

“You okay Crash?!” Sergeant Dusty called back whilst the ever busy support unicorn started levitating a new strip of bullets into her rifle.

“Yeah!”

“Good, as soon as Blue has you patched up get that Trencher over the top and blindside 'em! The listening post was right, they're trying to dig around and flank our line!” she exclaimed before resuming covering fire once the strip of bullets had been magically fed into the magazine. It did not come a moment too soon either as their fourth squad mate let fly an obscenity, buckling beneath his own weight as a well aimed round tore through his leg with an explosion of gore. Blue grimaced and bounded back into action, leaving Crash to get back to her hooves and scramble up and over the trench wall into the blinding smoke screen above.

There was no need to be slow and quiet. Despite the enemy's extraordinary hearing, the sound of her armor shifting and her hooves hitting the grass would not be heard over all the gunfire. She kept her head low and quickly galloped in the general direction of the enemy shots until she was able to hear them shouting to one another over the ballistic cacophony.

“But you're bleeding!”

“Sear it shut and get back to shooting! They'll send that Trench-gunner to drop in on us if we let them!”

If they were expecting visitors she would be best served by hitting them hard and fast before they could react. There was no time to try another angle anyway. It sounded like they were still trying to keep her three other squad mates good and pinned to their spot. This pack had them outgunned three to one and her squad could not survive a lengthy gunfight. She made sure the trigger bit was secure in her teeth before leaping back into the trench.

The commanding dog that they had managed to hit in the arm was in the middle of shoving their medic away and turned just in time for the first shot of Crash's trench gun to take off the side of his face. She lost no momentum, hearing the clock work of her armor rack in the next round as she took another couple quick strides before the medic caught the next shot in the torso while trying to draw a bead on her. The scatter shot punched a massive blood drenched hole through her armor, making her double over and hit the dirt. By that point the two rifle wielding dogs in front had turned on her, which was a good thing as far as Crash was concerned since they were no longer shooting at the rest of her squad.

She had time to get another shot off but it hit the front-most dog off center, causing a bit of damage but not putting him down. Knowing there would not be time enough to get off the next shot before they opened fire, she dove forward and rolled, feeling a couple bullets put worryingly large dents in her armor as the rest whizzed overhead. When her hooves were back on the ground she was close enough to make missing quite nearly impossible. Her trench gun's muzzle deflected a jab from the dog's bayonet before another thunderous point blank blast nearly cut him in half and covered the two remaining combatants with his blood. She then threw herself against the opposite wall out of the path of the last dog's fire and aimed her second to last trencher round a bit higher. The snout of his helmet caved inward, suddenly perforated with a plethora of small holes as the skull inside was pulverized. He crumpled to the dirt, limbs twitching erratically. The ground beneath her then quaked with the detonation of a burrow buster charge, no doubt tossed into the pack's entry breach by Dusty.

The wind started to kick up, and she looked upward, quietly lamenting their lack of ability to safely get a weather crew up in the air to keep the smoke screen from dissipating. It was the only thing forcing the dogs to come to them.

And then a dog came to her.

The Trencher at her side was suddenly wrenched out of position with a metallic snap, damaged to the point where the trigger bit in her mouth could no longer fire it. She reflexively whirled around to slash with her sword only to have an enraged paw grab hold of the blade, completely apathetic to the grievous wound in caused.

It was their commanding dog, looking intent on snuffing her despite having only one arm and apparently just enough of his face to keep going. Before she could pull the blade away he ducked low and slammed into her with his damaged shoulder, carrying her up off the ground and pushing her into the trench wall to knock the wind out of her. He then grabbed her leg and heaved her up and over his head, slamming her back into the dirt. Before she could recover he planted his two metal clad paws on her weapons, pinning her down and making sure she couldn't use either gun or blade to defend herself, leaving him free to wrap his clawed hand around the mail armored neck and squeeze with all his might.

She struggled as best she could, but the dogs had always been better up close and personal. The image of his half mutilated face, his empty eye socket, his half blasted off jaw, his exposed teeth, and his hanging buckshot ravaged tongue was starting to fade as she went longer and longer without dearly needed air. The dog choking the life out of her was interrupted by gunshots from behind, jerking forward as the first two damaged his armor and then arching his back in agony as the next three punched through his rib cage and dented the front of his chest plate outward.

“Get off her, fleabag!” Dusty bellowed as she drove her sword through his neck and then wrenched the hilt forward, snapping his spine as though the bullets in his chest and and blade through his throat had not gotten the point across sufficiently. She pulled her weapon free and kicked his motionless corpse off of her squad mate who was gasping and coughing to catch her breath. “For buck's sake that one just would not die!” she observed as she helped Crash back to her hooves.

“Is Kicker alright?” she asked while still panting for air.

“Blue Mercy says he'll live, and we stopped the flanking maneuver so I'd say we pretty much won this one!” Dusty proclaimed triumphantly.

“But why would they just send one pack to outflank all of us?!”

Seven additional breach charges then went off along the trench ahead of them, leaving enormous holes out of which poured way too many dogs for a single squad with only one working rifle to possibly repel.

“Damn it Crash!” Dusty swore as she and her squad mate both pulled burrow buster charges off the straps on their side, armed, and tossed them in the general direction of two of the holes. If they did not seal them up they would at least keep the dogs from charging right at them for a few precious seconds.

“What's wrong?!” the support unicorn asked as they both rounded the corner at a dead gallop. She had Kicker on her back, the wounded stallion unable to walk on his own with his shot up leg.

“You hear seven breach charges go off and ask what's wrong?!” Dusty snarled as she galloped past. The order to follow her in retreat did not really have to be said aloud.

“Tell me you at least called for backup!” Crash asked Dusty with some concern.

“I thought we had it handled!” their sergeant replied defensively.

“You are so lucky I had Kicker call it in while I was fixing his leg up!” Blue scolded shortly before several more squads of guardians emerged from the steadily dwindling smoke ahead.

“I could kiss you!” Dusty said overjoyed as she turned to join them.

“Don't do me any favors!” the unicorn shot back with a sour look on her face, apparently not finding the idea very appealing.

“I wasn't talking to you!”

Blue blinked, and then looked up to the injured stallion on her back who gave a pained chuckle and shrugged his shoulders.

“Hey! My gun's broken!” Crash said as she stopped one of the other support unicorns from another squad. Blue was probably busy enough carrying Kicker to safety.

“Give me five seconds!” He motioned to his passing squad mates who acknowledged his brief absence before he set to work disengaging the Trencher module on the mare's side. “I don't have any Trenchers to replace this one so you'll have to settle for a Sunglaive!”

“Good enough!” she assured him as he levitated a rifle module into position and locked it into place then loaded her up with ammo and gave her flank a tap to signal she was good to go before galloping off to join his squad.

Crash followed suit, galloping back toward the danger before she heard the dogs start firing in their direction with a bullet whizzing by dangerously close to her ear. She lowered her stance immediately.

“Get down!” she heard Dusty yell ahead. Once she caught up she saw her fellow guardian ponies set up in firing positions behind portable metal barriers that some of the support unicorns had been carrying. They were layered two ranks deep, shooting at the shape of anything that stood on two legs in the smoke. When one rank needed to reload the next rank would stand up and take over, resulting in a continuous stream of gunfire to answer the bullets being lobbed at them. Crash jumped up and joined the edge of the formation that was at the top of the trench where they would have superior line of sight and be in a better position to pick off any dogs that tried flanking from no mare's land. Sergeant Dusty was next to her in the line, below her against the wall of the trench.

They held steady, tensions rising as enemy bullets inevitably connected with them, several of their own lifelessly hitting the dirt in deathly silence with dogs managing to get closer and closer whilst ammunition steadily dwindled. But as Crash was somewhat shakily exhausting the last half of her final strip of bullets, a distant howl signaled the canine retreat and left their section of the battlefield suddenly unnervingly quiet. After a couple tense minutes spent expecting the worst with the wind blowing overhead, audible sighs started sounding among the ranks. Finally, Dusty brought a hoof up to the side of her helm, activating the internal messenger shard near her ear.

“The southrn flank is secure, repeat, southern flank is secure. Standing by for possible counter attack.”

She listened to the reply, brow furrowing briefly with displeasure. “Acknowledged, returning guardians to front.” She lowered her hoof and turned to relay orders to the rest of the assembled ponies. “Squads Gamma, Hotel, Juliet, and Tango are to resupply and head back to the front on the double. Everypony else is to stay here until the listening post can confirm they aren't making another stab at this!”

There were scattered acknowledgments before the requested squads departed for the forward staging area for more ammunition.

“Delta squad wins another one huh?” Crash commented smugly from atop the side of the trench, looking upward at the newly visible patches of sky.

“Looks like it. They tried this from the north too. If we hadn't held them back here they would've encircled the main force,” Dusty replied as Crash offered a helping hoof up. She accepted and the lower ranked mare helped her commanding guardian up to stand with her. “So then, hoof bump?”

“Well I didn't help you up here for a hug,” she chuckled in reply as she offered up her metal clad hoof, a gesture which was promptly accepted by her sister in arms.

There was a single whizzing noise followed immediately by a metallic ping as the side of Dusty's helmet exploded. She collapsed on the spot leaving Crash standing there in shock with her friend's blood covering her armor. It was a few more seconds before the sound of a distant shot that had finally reached her broke her out of it. She turned to see a distant ridge line from which the smoke was no longer concealing them. A slim figure in red armor was already leaping away at the end of a dissipating vapor trail. Her eyes then fell to her friend lying there motionless in the grass, blood rapidly pooling beneath her head. The mare's legs quivered and she fell to a sitting position, her sight growing blurred.

“H...hey...Dusty...” Her hoof reached out and shook her shoulder. “Come on...Lightning Dust come on...” she begged as her voice cracked.

She was tackled to the ground by another stallion who hastily dragged her back into the trench as Blue used her levitation to do the same with Dusty.

“What the buck were you doing just standing there?!” the stallion berated her.

“I don't...I don't know I...” She caught sight of Blue and pushed the stallion aside. “Blue she's...she's okay right? The bullet just grazed her skull and knocked her out...she's fine isn't she? I mean why levitate her back in here if she's dead?!” she asked with mounting desperation.

“Crash...we needed to get her emblem, weapons, and ammo. She's gone. We'll come back to get her after things calm-”

“How do you know?! You didn't even try yet! Do you care about her at all or am I the only one?!” she shouted, pinning Blue to the wall in a surge of anger that was only defused when the older, more weathered unicorn mare pushed her away with a strong magical pulse.

“Everything in that helmet from the jaw up is liquid, Crash. If she were still alive right now, anypony that cared even a little bit about her would be doing everything in their power to kill her. Do you understand?! I'm not going to sit here and play along with you when I can be helping ponies that still have a pulse. So go ahead and blame me all you bucking like for not saving her if it suits you, I can't afford to care!” Her horn lit up, unlatching Dusty's cuirass and retrieving the emblem from around her neck. It bore the symbol of a bolt of lightning and three stars. She then detached her rifle and extracted the ammunition, adding it all to her stock before pausing and looking at the other ponies killed in action while holding their position. She let out a single shuddering sob, and walked away muttering to herself about Celestia forsaken dogs.

The bereft mare stared after her, and then looked down at her close friend's remains. Her hoof reached out but could not seem to bridge the the last couple inches between itself and Dusty's shoulder. It remained there, trembling more and more with each passing moment until a choked sob gave way to a scream of anguish. The hoof planted itself in the ground before she bucked out with both rear legs and struck at the wall behind her. Then she did it again. After the second buck came a third, and a fourth. The lashing out did nothing to lessen the feeling of barbed wire clamping down upon her heart. The only feeling that changed was a fire that started smoldering inside of her that demanded she do something, anything, now!

It was not fair. If Dusty had to die it should have been in a worthy last stand. But she had instead been coldly flicked out of existence. But in spite of the way she burned inside there was that rational voice in her head telling her that she was not special for this. She was surrounded by ponies who had watched dear friends die in ways just as unfair and trivial. But the thought was doing nothing to calm her. No matter how hard she looked she could not find within herself the resigned numbness that was keeping everypony else composed. It only grew worse. She stood there trembling, teeth clenched, eyes burning. She had no idea what to do as the pressure built but it did not keep the dam from bursting.

“What do we do then, huh?!” she shouted as she turned and started for the nearest pony, who just so happened to be the stallion that had tackled her, a corporal judging from the symbol on his shoulder.

“We have orders to stay here and guard the east flank, and that's what we're going to do.” His voice was not lacking in sympathy for the obviously distraught mare in front of him, but neither was it lacking in conviction.

“While that sniper on the ridge keeps taking shots at our ponies?!”

“The captain already knows about the sniper, private. She'll make the call. You're not any use to us sitting here screaming instead of keeping an eye out, so save that anger for the next group of dogs we fight,” he answered before turning and putting a hoof to the side of his helmet, listening intently to a voice in his ear.

“Hey, you're right! I should save it for the next dog I see! But forget staying here and doing nothing!”

She sat and violently tore open the safety cover on the side of her cuirass.

“Forget waiting for the captain to figure it out!”

Her hoof twisted the handle hidden beneath, and well protected gears turned in her armor to unlatch two armor panels on her back.

“Forget letting that mongrel kill anypony else!”

A pair of cyan wings pushed them out of their setting, sending them falling to the ground at her sides. She stretched them out with an audible groan in obvious preparation to take off.

And forget you!

The stallion called after her, but she was not in the mood to listen. It took half a second for her to break through the top of the smoke screen cloud, and another half second for her now hyper aware eyes to spot the flashes of movement of a sniper relocating with uncommon speed along the ridge. But before she could make a beeline straight for her friend's killer, a bullet put a dent in her right front leg plate while several more whizzed past her.

As it turned out, silhouetting oneself against the clear blue sky whilst the enemy had a dearth of other clear targets was not the most tactically sound of actions.

While shaking the soreness out of her foreleg she banked and started making sharp, quick maneuvers as bullets fired from the dog's entrenched rear ranks streamed up at her, seeking the suddenly available easy prey. It would be impossible to dodge individual shots so she had no choice but to keep moving as randomly and erratically as she could manage and hope for the best as she tried to get another bead on that sniper. What she noticed first though was dogs moving heavy ordnance down the hill, within range of their defensive line. She did not know how they had managed to sneak in such hardware right under their noses but if the ponies below could not push their position in the next few minutes they would be machine gunned and shelled into a complete rout.

The dogs were unfortunate in that the absolute worst pony for their situation was both aware and in the air.

“Okay, okay you bucking fleabags, I got something for ya!” she yelled as she pulled upward and disappeared into the cloud layer above.

Meanwhile the sniper cursed her company's lack of focus as they fired potshots at such a small, unthreatening target, but at least the distraction that idiot pony had caused had guaranteed nopony in the equine platoon below would have noticed her relocation. She was now prone at her new spot, gazing into the dissipating smoke below trying to pick out another target through her scope. The equines had apparently run out of smoke charges and now that the wind had picked up she was making use of such a prime opportunity to instill panic among their ranks. Her latest kill was the sixth pony to fall to her Farsight rifle in the last ten minutes, soon to be joined by a seventh as she spied more movement through the smoke.

But something altogether more interesting caught her attention. Without the deafening gunfire her ears twitched as she heard a curious sound from far above the cloud layer. It sounded like something cutting through the air at extreme speeds, but that alone failed to describe what she was hearing. There was something else to it, something unnatural, like a building force. Then that same unthreatening target pierced the clouds trailing a cone of distortion as she streaked through the air aiming right at the dogs under her command below.

The lithe gray coated hound rose to a knee and quickly tracked the rapidly moving target. She was not exactly wracked with worry, but concerned enough to nip whatever was about to happen in the bud. Performing a lightning quick subconscious calculation, she placed the cross-hairs at a very particular distance ahead of the target and fired.

Crash felt the barrier starting to push back and unleashed another surge of energy as she realized how close she was to piercing it. Bullets were whizzing past her by the dozens, the gunshots below sounding extremely distorted to her at such speeds. None of them were even close to hitting her though, save for one that managed pierce through her ear from a completely different angle. It did nothing to break her focus. Her one concern in all the world at that moment was breaking through at just the right altitude, letting out an enraged battle cry as she pushed herself just that little bit further.

Every other sound on the battle field was suddenly overwhelmed by a single cataclysmic boom accompanied by a bright multicolored explosion that sent out a shock wave large enough to kick up an ominous mushroom shaped cloud.

The sniper on the ridge had been blinded by the flash for a few seconds, her shot having just barely missed punching through the pegasus pony's skull. When she was able to see again she was briefly struck dumb by the sight before her as she tried to comprehend the sheer devastation that one pony had managed to inflict upon her pack. Had that pegasus been some kind of suicide bomber?

By the time she spotted the rainbow streak leading out of the base of the mushroom cloud an armor clad hoof traveling at near super sonic speed was already five feet from taking her head clean off. Without time to consider anything else she flung herself to the side as the pony sized speeding bullet missed her by near inches, and with her balance already compromised the following pressure wave of air was enough to knock her off the edge.

“I'LL KILL YOU!!!” came Crash's strained, distorted voice as the sound waves she was outpacing finally caught up with the dog she'd just knocked off the ridge.

A flick of the hound's arm sent her anchor hook firing from its place on her forearm with enough force to pierce into the rock and form a solid connection. Her fall was redirected into a swing back upward into the air, and at the apex of her arc she yanked the cable to dislodge the hook, taking a moment to look up and see Crash banking back for another pass before she landed. Once her paws were back on the ground she whirled around, fell to all fours, and took off like a shot back toward her platoon as she heard the Equestrian guns come back to life, punctuated by the yelps and cries of her remaining dogs being swiftly killed off as the enemy advanced on the hill.

“No!” she cried out as she poured every ounce of energy into her efforts to try to get there and save even just a single dog! But it was useless. She was the fastest creature she had ever known and the damn flying prey creature was still gaining on her handily. The best she could do for her fallen brethren was to bring a swift death to the pegasus that had ended them.

She made a small leap, turning to face her target and getting her back legs beneath her again. Her velocity carried her a fair distance further, her stance remaining steady as she skidded along the dirt locking eyes with the distant pegasus that would be upon her in a scant few seconds. Before her target disappeared behind the cloud of dust that her emergency stop had kicked up, she saw the glint of a sword being readied.

“You, kill me?! That's not how this works, equine filth!”

Crash shot out of the dust cloud, sword aimed and ready to impale the gray hound.

To her horror the dust had hidden the fact that said hound had already drawn her sidearm and stepped aside. She'd even made sure to pick the side without a blade to threaten her, and was aiming at the exact level that Crash's head would be when she zipped past.

That split fraction of a second's recognition was followed by a single gunshot. Crash veered off course spinning wildly out of control until a tree stopped her, the force of the impact partially uprooting it before it fell to the ground behind her. Having weathered many similar crashes with no armor to speak of, she was able to recover her wits quickly and rip off the helm that was crushing the side of her head, letting her ragged rainbow mane fall free. The bullet from the sniper's sidearm had not been able to pierce the helm with a single shot, unlike the Farsight rifle that Crash saw the hound pulling off her back through the blood streaming out of the gash on her head.

The sniper was caught off guard by how quickly the pegasus recovered and abandoned the attempt to put a Farsight round through her skull when bullets from the mare's own Sunglaive rifle started pinging off her armor. She emptied the rest of her pistol's magazine with one hand to throw off her quarry's aim whilst reaching for one of the hooked throwing axes on her belt and tossing it just slightly askew of the mare's chest. It spun through the air and lodged itself in the joint between weapon and armor, cutting off control and silencing the rifle.

“Are you serious?!” Crash swore, briefly glancing back at yet another broken weapon before the sound of the predator making a move for her while drawing a knife snapped her back to the present. She turned slightly, putting her guard up with sword front and center.

The slim armored hound stopped, knife in hand, eyes locked with her quarry. Regardless of their difference in strength, a blade was still a blade, and a moment's misstep would still let the equine plunge it through a gap in her armor and into her delicate flesh. Rushing in recklessly against her guarded stance was a poor idea.

“You killed the only friend I knew I still had!” Crash seethed tearfully at her while still holding her position, likewise hesitant to charge in.

“And you just killed every dog under my command,” the dog replied calmly while narrowing her eyes, “but what of it? We're soldiers. I don't blame you for doing it, but I will kill you for it.”

“Hold on, I killed your friend just now?” Her eyes widened briefly before she relaxed her stance and started to laugh.

“What is so bucking funny?!”

“You were that pony standing outside the trench weren't you?” she asked with a sharp toothed smirk.

“What about it?!”

“I had you in my crosshairs...but then you pulled a higher ranking target out of the trench for me!”

Crash's face went blank as an icy dagger punched through her heart.

“I should thank you for letting me spend that bullet more efficiently, seems trading her life for your own worked out for both of us,” the sniper said mockingly.

The mare completely lost control of herself and lunged at the dog with a flap of her powerful wings, screaming with fury, sword aimed for her neck!

It was then that she found out the hound's stance only appeared relaxed. Quick as a flash she plucked the other throwing axe off her belt and caught the encroaching sword beneath the hook shaped blade to draw it off course and pull the mare upward. Her other hand shot up and stabbed her knife into the pony's gut through the segmented plates around her waist, then took a step forward and and slammed her back into the ground before slicing along the armor seam and wrenching the knife free.

Crash cried out in agony, doubling over as best she was able with so many severed abdominal muscles, desperately clutching the wound blood flowed over her hooves. The dog gave the dull side of her bloodied knife a lick, descending on the wounded mare before her other hand clutched her victim's skull and pulled her head back to further expose her throat.

“That's right, SCREAM FOR ME HERD BEAST!” she snarled before baring her teeth and latching onto the pony's neck, holding her down while shaking her savagely in her jaws as she finally got to taste the wretch's blood.

(Are Done)

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What was he supposed to do?

What in unholy Tartarus was he supposed to do?

His horn dulled. His bloodied, glove covered, utterly useless hooves came to rest on the side of the gurney next to which he sat. He blinked a few times, looking down as the nearby heart monitor blared with a single unending beep that would never again resume its rhythm.

The mare in front of him was dead.

He glanced down to his side at the discarded cuirass she had been wearing. The damned things were tested before being issued. They had survived all manner of strikes from all manner of weapons. Even the most powerful crossbows they had could only penetrate a couple inches, enough to cause some damage but very much survivable. But there had been no way to test them against a weapon they did not have.

The cuirass was riddled with holes. The weapons of the enemy punched through Equestrian armor as if it were barely there. One of their number could carry multiple types of these weapons as well, of varying sizes and engineered to specific roles. Their range, accuracy, and power were ludicrously beyond anything the weapon smiths of Equestria had thought up. It was as if every enemy soldier were doing the equivalent of lugging around a small complement of cannons.

As though the damage that could be done to armor with such weapons was not terrifying enough, the damage they could cause to flesh was absolutely nightmarish. The point of penetration usually was nothing to write home about, but what happened after was unlike anything he or any other medical professional in the kingdom had ever dealt with. The sheer force involved managed to create a miniature sort of explosion inside of a pony's body without need of any sort of combustible materials...and the understated nature of the entry wound was even further contrasted by the complete devastation of the exit wound. Among all the expectations he had harbored for his life, seeing a pony's limb explode off of their body had not been among them.

For that matter he had seen ponies blown completely in half by the larger weaponry, while in full armor no less.

The surgeon unicorn brought his gaze back to the patient that laid there motionless, eyes half open, covered in her own blood. Her killer had caught her at close range with a weapon quite well suited for the circumstance. The blast had gnashed its way through her leg just below the shoulder, amputating it in the messiest way possible. Then in an apparent effort to conserve ammunition she'd been flipped over and stabbed in the gut seven or so times. The slashing and cutting movements that had accompanied each stab left behind wounds so intermingled with one another that it was difficult to get an exact count. He supposed he should be thankful for her sake that she was at least afforded the dignity of not also being partially devoured.

Losing this patient was not overly disconcerting on its own. Tragic, yes, but during his long years of study he had learned that it was a grim eventuality for which one should be emotionally prepared.

But this was the twenty fifth pony he had lost that day.

He had not been at it more than two hours.

He was also one of seven medics at that particular camp who had lost ponies at a similar rate.

For months.

Ponies surviving long enough to be brought to the medical camp was an exception to the norm. Ponies surviving through their trip there was an exception within that exception. In a ludicrous majority of cases being too wounded to continue duty on the battlefield went hoof in hoof with being too wounded to continue living, and there were so, so many of those cases piling up by the day.

First they had run out of time to properly bury the dead. Then they had run out of body bags with which to store them. Then they had run out of sheets to cover them. Now all they could do was try to pile the dead as respectfully as they could manage in a place out of the way such that new guardians coming in would not be greeted by the grisly sight on their way to the front.

It was outside the realm of medicine to save any of them.

He looked back up, and saw that his inactivity had not gone unnoticed. Thankfully the pair of blue eyes that were gazing at him from nearly across the room had been very much trusted for a friendship spanning decades now. The look of utter defeat and hopelessness on the unicorn's face was met with a pained understanding from the pegasus preparing for yet another procedure that was unlikely to have any effect. At the same time though, the brief exchange set the unicorn back to action, a clipboard with hastily scrawled names and attached injuries floating over quickly so that he might continue struggling along with all of his fellow medics until the end of their shift.

------

The nights were terrifying. Their camp never saw even a lick of the unrestrained violence that dominated the area nearer to the front line, but the nights managed to be terrifying all the same. Everypony wandered about in tense silence as the black void beyond the various lanterns and lights surrounded them. Periodically they would stop and gaze intently at the latest chorus of popping noises far off in the distance, all but the most dedicated of their number stopping their task to listen cautiously until it died down again.

They got a little bit closer every night, without fail.

He found it sickly amusing that the weapons making it impossible for him to serve his purpose in life sounded just like party poppers at a distance. The reality of the situation was all too familiar to him though. On previous occasion he had had the misfortune of being close enough to hear the deafening crack that was the true roar of the beast carried by every single one of their number. Every single laughable pop in the distance was a pony being irreparably mutilated.

What was he supposed to do?

What were they even there for?

Was there even a remote chance he had just made the wrong-

"Manny."

The deep voice broke him out of his trance and he looked up to see his amber coated pegasus friend approaching. Judging by the post pony walking away with two envelopes held in his mouth, one bearing a symbol of three flowers and the other a symbol of three butterflies, he had just finished sending some mail.

"Hrm?"

"You okay?" the pegasus asked while taking a seat adjacent.

He pondered lying to him for a split second but they both knew better than to think that would work. "No...you're not either, Lance."

"I don't think any of us are. But that doesn't change things. Ponies are still depending on us to save them, and if..." Lance stopped, attempting to weigh his words carefully for the benefit of his friend but finding no turn of phrase any less callous. "If you're no longer fit for purpose you need to let me know so I can have somepony else switch in while you straighten yourself out."

"..."

"It's not like I don't understand. This is...I never thought I'd ever see anything like this, nopony did. Ponies are still relying on us though. That's the entire reason we're here," Lance added after an uncomfortable silence.

Manny levitated his glasses off, staring at them a moment before wiping a bit of dust off of them with his coat and placing them back onto his muzzle. "I'm not disagreeing with your assessment Lance. But what difference would it really make in the end?"

"Pardon?"

"You've seen the same reports I have. One in maybe twenty ponies that are wounded out there actually live to make it back here. Of those scant few ponies, we save maybe another one in twenty if we're lucky, and I use the word 'save' very loosely here. I don't think it's too far of a stretch to say that most of the ponies we 'save' here would've been better off dying, and I've personally seen two that agreed with that sentiment enough to cut their own throats when they had a private moment rather than live the shattered husk of a life we gave them. I'm no math major Lance, but I'm pretty sure a pony who was would look at those numbers and conclude that we're statistically insignificant."

Manny silently steeled himself to be loudly told off for daring to say such things...but much to his surprise the eventual response sounded...tired.

"What else can we do, Manny?"

He looked back to Lance. There was about as much hope left in the pegasus stallion's face as was left in his own.

"All of us know everything you just said. Our guardians don't have the kind of armor they need to shrug off even the smallest weapons they have, and once they've been hit it's a miracle if they ever get up again. By any practical measure all we do here anymore is make ponies comfortable while they die," Lance confessed, voice sounding just as empty and broken as Manny felt. "But what else can we do but that?"

The unicorn was not the typical arrogant Canterlot unicorn stock. He did not assume his fellow medics were somehow unable to comprehend these very obvious facts. Perhaps then he had been so swallowed in his own despair that it became easier to think himself unique than to ponder all of his friends wallowing in their own, identical pits. Regardless, he knew well that none of them would falter in their grim task, no matter the futility. Somepony had to do it.

But there was something else somepony else had to do...something that would make all this death and suffering actually amount to anything but the death throes of a doomed species.

Manny plucked the medic pin off of his coat collar and gave it a long hard look...then levitated it to Lance, effectively relinquishing his post. "I'm done."

"It's okay...none of us will think even the least bit less of you, and if I find out they are I'm going to skin them alive," Lance assured him as he reluctantly took hold of the pin.

"Remember when Posey got sick?"

"Yeah...it was scary but you pulled us through it and saved her," Lance answered with a weary smile. It had been terrifying to be certain, but it was a far less bitter memory now that he could look back on it with his wife still at his side.

Manny could not help but respond with a bittersweet smile of his own. "And remember when she was driving herself crazy worrying about Fluttershy before our graduation?"

Lance allowed himself a soft chuckle at that one before nodding.

"Nopony had ever been able to see a developing foal in the womb to make sure everything was progressing smoothly before I invented that imaging spell, and nopony else would have been able to save Posey if I hadn't run myself to near death refining it to the point that we finally saw what was wrong with her," he continued to reminisce.

"And by now you've invented at least half of the medical equipment doctors use every day all over Equestria," his friend added with more than a hint of pride.

"I have...I solved impossible problems by inventing equally impossible things to fix them...well, impossible at the time at least." Manny got to his hooves and gave a brief stretch, his horn lighting up to lift some papers that Lance had failed to noticed were lying next to him. "I'm going to do it again too, but I can't do it here."

Lance caught a brief glimpse of the papers. They bore familiar insignia of a crescent moon inside of an eight pointed sunburst design. Every field had been filled out, but the only words that Lance needed to see were 'transfer' and 'research division'.

"Bye Lance. Tell everypony I wish them luck and look forward to meeting them again," Manny said as he began walking away.

"Manny, what are you doing?" Lance called out after him, voice tinged with worry at the implication of that insignia. Though their guardians bore it proudly, no research done under it was ever of the sort that was meant to preserve life.

The unicorn stopped and looked back at his friend over his shoulder. "It's like when Posey got sick, Lance. I'm not going to waste time chasing after symptoms instead of dealing with the root cause anymore."

"And what does that mean, exactly?" Lance asked with narrowed eyes. His conscientious objector status was suddenly butting heads with the implication his best friend was making.

...

"I'm going to kill them, Lance. I'm going to kill every single one of them, and I don't care if the history books remember me as a monster so long as there are ponies left to write them."