> To die for our Land is the highest honor
>  by yveltaldarkrai3
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> The Long March
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The air smelled salty. Somewhere in the distance, a seagull cried as it made its way across the cloudless sky. The sound of vomiting and the splash as it hit the water was heard every few seconds. A changeling tank commander, his blue eyes filled with sympathy patted the back of the radio operator that was currently heaving over the rail of the barge. He pulled himself up, only to mutter:

“It’ll get better after the first hour... what a load of Scheiß. It’s the twelfth d-”

He went back over the railing,vomiting a thick pink liquid. The commander winced, his advice that he had given earlier seemingly false.

“Kommandant Chitin?”

The changeling commander looked over at where the voice came from, still gripping the back of his operator’s uniform, “Ja?”

The marine who had just spoken continued, “We are one hour away from landing and Marshal Trimmel requires all tank crews to be ready.” He paused, his eyes drifting to the radio operator, who had just pulled himself from the rail, “Just a warning, radio test will be in five minutes. ”

Chitin nodded, dismissing the marine. As the latter flew off towards the massive aircraft carrier that was escorting the fleet, Chitin helped his radio operator stagger onto his hooves.

“You okay, Protur?”

“Of course not Kommandant, but I will live.” The radio operator flicked his green eyes over to the tank driver who was staring out into the horizon daydreaming with his forelegs dangling over the railing.

“Hey, Pycin! I need some assistance over here!”

The driver turned his eyes over to Protur, looking irritated, “You can walk, can’t you?”

“You think I have any energy left? I’ve been vomiting all over the side you idiot!”

Pycin rolled his eyes at Protur’s dramatization, “Fine…” He muttered, standing up and making his way towards his comrade.

Together both Chitin and Pycin made their way towards their tank with Protur between them. Not an easy task considering the size of the connector that split the barge and the platform that carried the tank itself was meant for one changeling to cross. Nevertheless, with some awkward twisting, the trio managed to make it over.

The tank gleamed in the light of the sun, the flag of the changeling empire emblazoned proudly on the side. The well oiled MG mount didn’t squeak as Chitin pushed it aside to open the turret hatch. The changeling inside wearing the uniform of a gunner looked up, saluting her commander, “Kommandant! Everything on the list is accounted for!”

“Good. Get Protur down to his station, and make sure he doesn’t spray over the equipment.”

The changeling gunner chuckled slightly before grabbing onto the radio operator.

Chitin followed them down to the cramped driver’s seat. Pycin squeezed past him, and sat down in it. Protur staggered into his seat and reached over to turn on the wall mounted radio. Static poured out of the tiny speaker before Protur inputted the code that would allow them to access the secure channel.

“...esting testing. Testing testing. Testing testing.”

The monotone voice stopped, static once again issuing from the speakers.

“Kommandant, radio is operational.” Protur announced, still looking slightly nauseous.

The occupants of the tank heard the turret hatch open. Another changeling appeared at the hatch, his single eye glowing in the dimness.

“Kommandant!” He said, saluting, “All shells are accounted for!”

“Understood.” Chitin responded.

The static faded away and was replaced by a the deep voice of Field Marshal Trimmel.

“Achtung! All commanders should have gathered their crew, and have boarded their tanks. Landing shall be in fifty three minutes. Godspeed to all!”

“Turn off the radio, I’ve thought of my speech.”

Protur obliged, turning to face his commander. The rest of his crew looked at him, anticipation in their eyes.

Chitin took a deep breath before starting,” For five months I have served with you. For five months we have won every battle that we have taken part in. For five months, I have done done a speech before each battle. Why should I break tradition now?”

His crew was captivated, stock still despite the rocking of the tank.

“Today we fight against the untermenschen that dared fight back against us in the first place! And should any of you die in the field of battle, I will personally bury you, because any one of your deaths is my responsibility.”

Chitin paused, then continued his voice nearly cracking, “Men, I know this isn’t Vaverfront. I know that this will be much harder than fighting the deer. But I believe that we will make it through. I promise you that we will make it through.”

His crew nodded, Pycin looked on the verge of tears like he did after every speech.

“Let’s get them!”

His crew shouted in agreement before moving to their stations. Pycin wiped off his eyes and started checking the gauges and dials on his dashboard.

Protur approached, having finished his radio checks beforehand, “Bad idea,” He murmured, “Stomach’s still not as settled as I thought. You don’t mind if I…”

He motioned to the small box next to the driver.

“Not at all. Don’t have much in there anyway. Just a few mementos.”

Protur grinned, his queasiness forgotten, “Mind if I see?”

Pycin winced, having seen this coming from the more inquisitive radio operator, “I-I guess.”

Protur opened the box, pulling out a necklace made of what looked like glass, “Where’s this from?”

“Vitrysi- excuse me, you’re blocking the generator gauge...thanks. Anyway, my hive mates collected what sand they could find and melted it down for me. It’s meant to be a good-luck charm, except it’s pretty fragile looking so I don’t want to wear it.”

The radio operator returned the necklace gently, and removed a chunk of rubble from the box “Oh hey, I remember this!” 

“Yup. That was from the government hall of Hjortland.”

Protur replaced the rubble and lid to the box, “Do you remember…”

“What we talked about right after Olenia?” Pycin turned around in his seat, “Of course I do. I don’t forget about my friend's problems so lightly. How is your sister doing?”

“Last I heard, she’s currently working in a factory producing treads. I wish she wasn’t stationed there though. I hear the rubber fumes can poison you. After this war’s over, I’m getting her out of there, and into a safer place.” Protur replied.

“After my service is done, I’m helping you with your sister, then I’m moving back to my hometown. Maybe I’ll take up a transportation job..who knows? All I know is that I never want to go back into the military again.”

Protur nodded, “Agreed. Now, let’s get back to work lest the Kommandant finds us slacking.”

Pycin nodded, returning back to his station.

Chitin had moved up to his cupola and had been sitting down in his seat. It was at that time that he reached into his jacket pocket, removing the small folded up picture he had there. It showed a group of changelings, all of them surrounding a young Chitin who was holding the flag of the Changeling Lands.

“My graduating class,” Chitin murmured to the female gunner that had just sat next to him, “We were the second-to-last to make it out before the war began. All of them were my friends...but duty calls, and some never made it back from the Equestrian Front.”

The cupola was silent, the only other sound was the droning of Changeling planes overhead.

“I don’t want to become one of them.” Chitin put away the picture, straightening himself and checking on the numerous periscopes that were placed around the cupola, “What do you think, Vitalia?”

The female changeling shrugged, “I can’t tell you myself.”

Chitin grinned, showing his sharp canines, “I guess you wouldn’t know, would you?”
He finished up his periscope checks, and shouted down the hatch.

“Teir, make sure the magical fuel is secure in it’s bindings! I heard that it’s very volatile!”

The one-eyed changeling looked up to the cupola, “Aye Kommandant!”

“Now, it looks like we wait.” Chitin said, staring out the cupola, as the blue sky overhead suddenly became dotted with planes.

__________________________XxX_______________________________

The sounds of bombardment reached them before the radio chatter began. Chitin sat up in his cupola, using magic to hold his binoculars up to his eyes, while his hooves stabilized himself on the sea sprayed edge of the cupola. 

The paltry garrison on the southwestern coast was quickly wiped out by the massive guns of the battleship moored next to them. Chitin’s barge beached itself on the shore, to allow the Panzer IV to drive itself into the shallow water.

Chitin lowered his binoculars as landing craft started depositing their own troops onto the beach. 

“Our orders are to meet up with the thirty-first infantry platoon.” He announced, moving deeper into the bowels of the tank. 

“After that, we will meet up with the rest of army group three, and move directly towards Los Pegasus. Our plans are to make it there before our fuel runs out, and capture their fuel supplies along with the city.”

“Understood Kommandant!” Pycin put the tank into drive, backing into the water and then he gunned the throttle, the tank lurching forward onto the beach. 

Chitin moved back up to his cupola, staring out at the ruined camp that used to belong to the Equestrian military forces. A few prisoners were marched out of it escorted by a recently deposited infantry division. They would soon become food for the invaders. Chitin heard the bawling of an army commander as he marshalled his forces into organization. 

“It looks as though our group has landed near to the base!” Chitin shouted to Pycin over the rumbling of the tank engine.

“Aye Kommandant!”

The tank turned, pointing towards the wrecked garrison. Sand shifted under the treads of the heavy tank, causing it to dip a few times on the ride. Soon, dusty air filled the cupola, forcing Chitin to put on his goggles lest he get dust in his eyes. The tank lurched to a halt as it reached the infantry, Chitin exited the cupola, searching for the army commander.

He spotted him moments later, a grizzled veteran bellowing orders for his troops to form up into columns. Chitin exited his cupola only to stop as a staff car swept by carrying officers to the command center that was being set up. He continued, and came face to face with the commander.

“You’re my armored support?” The commander asked grumpily, “I expected more, but I guess it’ll have to do.”

Chitin entered the tank moments later, nodding to his gunner before settling into his seat, “Follow the infantry column.” He called down to Pycin, “They’ll be leading the way so our tank doesn’t go down immediately under counter attacking forces.”

“How nice, we’ll be protected in a nice metal shell as our brothers and sisters die out there...very thoughtful.” Teir’s sardonic voice emanated from the floor hatch.

Chitin was silent at this, simply listening to the idle of the engine, “We will follow orders.”

The column of infantry started their march, the tank’s stillness turned into forward motion as the tail end of the march started getting away from them. 
___________________XxX__________________________

The sun was going down, the sky now colored a bruised purple. Chitin pulled out his canteen, and took a long drink from it. It was ingenious really, the fact that love could be condensed into a liquid form and carried on long journeys. Chitin wanted to bump hooves with whoever thought of that. 

“Company halt!!”

The tank settled back on it’s treads, the dirt road underneath was muddy from the rain that had happened earlier in their march. Those Pegasi were very good at interfering with weather, but Chrysalis be damned if they were going to slow this march.

The infantry column split, and started digging trenches around the tank, forming a rudimentary camp around it. The sound of chattering filled the air as fires were lit, and guns were put aside. Condensed love was passed around, and a general feeling of contentment was felt. 

Chitin entered the lower section of his tank passing a sleeping Pycin, and sitting next to Protus. The radio operator was currently listening to a message coming over the radio using a set of headphones.

“What’s happening?” Chitin whispered.

Protus turned towards his commander, holding a hoof up for silence. He lowered it and leaned in closer, “I’m listening to reports from the northern front. Hive Radio is broadcasting news of our victories.”

“They broadcast this far?” Chitin asked, incredulously.

“It’s for propaganda purposes. High Command believes that if the ponies hear of our victory in the front, then they will become demoralized quickly.”

Chitin patted Protus on the back, “I see. Well… have fun with that.”

He made his way onto the top of the turret, where he saw Teir stretching his wings. Chitin nodded to the maimed changeling loader, and went back to his cupola where he stared into the sky. The stars were out. He closed his eyes and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

______________________XxX____________________________

They started early the next morning. The infantry packed up their kits quickly, and set out at a rapid pace followed by the tank. Chitin sat on his cupola, drinking in the sight of the flat plains that made up most of the south.

“Admiring the view Kommandant?”

Chitin looked over at Vitalia, and grinned, “My hive was very mountainous, so it’s nice to see something other than rock.”

His gunner turned to look at the golden landscape.

“I guess it is rather beautiful and...flat.” She said grudgingly, “I lived in Vesalipolis myself, and the architecture there is mostly spires..”

The tank bounced as it hit a rough spot on the road.

“We haven’t had much combat since we’ve been here.” She added.

Chitin nodded, “The Equestrians are still tied up in the North, so they can’t spare much resources down here. That’s why we attacked.”

A small town suddenly appeared over the horizon, Chitin levitated his binoculars to his eyes.

“The residents are already fleeing into their homes.” He muttered, “Should be easy pickings.”

As the infantry entered the town, a rust colored pony came out of what looked like the townhouse, escorted by a pair of farmers holding muskets. The ‘mayor’ spoke with the infantry commander, the two exchanging some terse words before the changeling pulled out a Luger and shot the pony in the forehead. The two farmers were then gunned down by MP-40 wielding Changelings.

The commander nodded to his column, who immediately broke off in all directions, ransacking houses and dragging their occupants out into the town square.

“What now? We don’t have any love extraction apparatus’.” Vitalia looked confused.

“High Command really had us supplied, didn’t they?” Teir asked sarcastically, watching from the driver’s small view slit. 

Chitin looked on as the commander ordered all the ponies executed in the square. The screams and pleading stopped as abruptly as they started.

Shortly after, they came across the rest of their army camped in the plains about 2 miles away from the now abandoned town. Their infantry platoon immediately entered the camp, and started conversing with their comrades. Pycin parked the tank next to a few Opal Blitzes, and stood up.

“Just a few more miles to Los Pegasus.” He grunted, stretching out his legs.

“Aye, and listen.” Protur had his head sticking up into the cupola, listening to a sound that he could hear. Pycin listened closely, “Artillery?”

“Yes. We’re close to the front line. We’ll be most likely battling tomorrow.”

Chitin stuck his head through the turret hatch, “Get the engine warmed. We’re attacking in thirty minutes.”

“Captain, are you okay? You look a little…” Protur sketched his hoof across his face.

“I’m fine, now get the tank ready!” 

“Aye Kommandant.” Pycin muttered, starting the tank’s ignition. The Panzer IV sputtered to life.

The sudden sound of thunder made Chitin jump, followed closely by the rapidly pattering rain.

“Pegasi.” Teir muttered, making his way out of the shell storage bay.

“That’ll make it hard for us to maneuver.” Pycin observed, “You’ll do you best though, right?” He patted the dashboard lovingly.

Chitin blinked once, and moved up to the cupola.

“Kommandant’s been acting strange. Hopefully the stress isn’t getting to him.” Protur leaned in close to Teir.

“Hopefully he doesn’t crack.” The loader agreed, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to tend to my shells.”

This was the moment he’d been waiting for. Teir moved to a box of shells and lifted it, revealing a crescent shaped medal that was elegantly crafted and colored to resemble a shield, or the shield for that matter. 

The maimed loader remembered that fateful day. The spires of Canterlot, the breaking of the bubble shield, and...the six. That damned pink pony had cost him his eye, and he didn’t care what he had to do. He was going to watch the equines burn.

Teir stood and clipped the medal to his uniform, offered  up a quick prayer to the gods, and made his way up to the main gun.

___________________________XxX________________

The attack commenced thirty minutes later. Chitin’s tank sloshed through the mud that had formed from the onslaught of rain. The sound of Equestrian artillery rumbled, followed by thunder which seemed to answer the artillery.

Changeling artillery had been knocked out by precision targeting from Unicorn magic imbued shells. The Equestrian emplacements themselves were set up in a defensive line just outside of the borders of Los Pegasus.

“They managed to set that up pretty quickly!” Vitalia shouted over the rain drumming on the closed turret hatch. Sporadic gunfire had also started, making her harder to hear.

“What!”

“I SAID, THEY MANAGED TO SET THOSE EMPLACEMENTS UP RATHER QUICKLY!” 

Chitin nodded, “Agreed!”

Mud shot up in a mountain in front of their tank. A missed artillery shell. Chitin opened a hatch, wiping the filth off the periscopes he was using to see outside. He ducked back in, just as bullets started whizzing overhead. 

The concrete bunkers approached quickly. The grim faced ponies inside aimed a bazooka at Chitin’s tank and fired. The rocket skimmed off the sloped armor of the tank, the screeching of metal against metal was heard inside the tank, causing the occupants to grit their teeth in pain.

“One-hundred degrees to the left!” Chitin called to Vitalia. The turret rotated smoothly towards the now cowering defenders. “FIRE!”

The HE shell rocketed out of the turret, slamming into the concrete, and shattering it into pieces. The Changeling infantry that was previously being gunned down streamed into the gap made by the destroyed bunker.

“We’ve broken through!” Pycin called joyfully, explosions going off at other bunkers as more tanks blew through them.

Protur, who was manning the MG-34 that was mounted next to his station, cried out excitedly as he saw the Equestrian soldiers retreating.

“They’re running!” He called, firing off short bursts at the galloping backs of the soldiers.

Changeling infantry rushed past the tank, throwing grenades and firing their rifles. They disappeared instantly as an artillery shell slammed into them, throwing chunks of Changeling everywhere. A shell landed near the tank, and started spewing smoke.

“They retreated back to their artillery!” Chitin screamed, “Fall back!”

The tank squealed as it reversed, traveling over a few chunks of rubble and Changeling. Another artillery shell decimated a squad near them, the thick smoke and rain now forming over the battlefield obscuring sight.

“Raise command on the radio! Tell them to fall back!” Chitin shouted down towards Protur. The radio operator released his grip on his MG and turned towards his radio. After a few moments, he shook his head. “Nothing Kommandant!”

“Scheiße!” Chitin swore, “Retreat to our territory. We can regroup with the rest of our army. Hopefully they had enough sense to retreat.”

Another artillery shell landed next to them. Another shower of mud. By now the smoke and rain were so thick that Chitin and his crew couldn’t see where they were going.

“Drive any direction other than forward!” Chitin shouted, “As long as we’re out of artillery ran-“

A shell hit the tank on the front, tipping it forward and causing an explosion where it hit. Teir picked himself up off the floor, grateful that it hadn’t hit any of the ammunition. Chitin peered into a periscope, seeing the armor had been twisted and bent, but not pierced like he thought.

“Now THAT’s Key Lake Steel!” Chitin screamed joyfully.

The sound of artillery bombardment grew fainter as the tank moved farther away from the battle. Night had fallen, and it was pitch black outside. Once Chitin judged that they were safely out of range, he ordered Pycin to stop driving. 

“No sense in wasting more fuel, considering the fact that we’re scraping the barrel here.”

Next he told everyone to get some love in their stomachs and rest at their stations, “Just in case we need to get out of here quickly.”

Finally, Chitin went up to his cupola. The drumming of rain sounded much more peaceful now without the thunder. What that meant for their attack, he didn’t know, but what he did know, was that he was cold, and sleeping with his crew was supposed to be a bonding moment, so he climbed back down into where his crew was sleeping, and promptly collapsed on the floor.

_______________________XxX_________________

Next morning came, and Chitin ached all over. Sleeping on a sheet metal floor didn’t feel good, neither did his entire crew sleeping on top of him. Their shared warmth was a small comfort though.

“Hey Vitalia, I’d appreciate it more if you could get your wing out of my face,” Teir grumbled, “I can hardly see with one eye.”

The female gunner mumbled something back at him, something about ruining the moment, and rolled over. Something sharp jabbed into Chitin’s side. Most likely somepony’s horn. Chitin rolled out from under the pile, wincing as he felt his wing muscles cramp from being folded in too long. Teir extricated himself from the pile with a bit of difficulty, stretching out his legs one at a time.

Chitin went up to the cupola and extended his wings to stretch them out. The thin membrane was still dotted with holes, a sign that Changelings were never going to be full. That reminded him though, he hadn’t drank any love since before the battle. He found his canteen hidden under his commanders cap, and took a swig.

He went back down into the lower half of the tank. All three of the once sleeping changelings were stretching their limbs out, suffering from the aftereffects from their night on top of each other. Chitin cleared his throat.

“Here’s the agenda today. We will regroup with the rest of our forces and make sure that we don’t encounter any Equestrian divisions. With any luck, our comrades in the north will have pushed far enough, that our army group is able to link up with them. Any questions? No? Good. Let’s move out.”

Chitin went ahead to scout. Shifting into the form of a small bird, he flew over a hill, and transformed into a small lizard. Climbing up the tall grass stalk, he beheld the aftermath of the brutal attack. Corpses littered the ground outside the shattered fortifications, most of them were dark black and winged. The flag of Equestria still flew over the battlefield, proudly flapping in the wind. A team of Changeling P.O.W.s were picking up the bodies of their fallen comrades and transporting them to mass graves already starting to fill up with bodies.

“Mein Gott.” He muttered.

He scanned the area, picking out some charred husks of destroyed tanks, and at last he came upon what he was looking for. The charred remains of the command tent, what remained of the fabric rippling the in the breeze.

“Forward command’s fallen.” He muttered, “That doesn’t bode well.”

He changed into a small bird and flew back to the tank, nearly missing it because of how well it blended in with the tall grass. Landing on the turret, he transformed into his original form and opened it to see the occupants huddled around the radio.

“...is Thorax. You might not know me, but I’m here to tell ask you...no implore you to lay down your arms, and join us in open rebellion. We know how much you’ve struggled under Chrysalis’s rule. We know how much you all wish for the war to end, so…”

Chitin stepped down into the tank, staring at the changelings gathered around the radio who all stared back at him, looking surprised. Teir was absent from the tank.

“Kommandant, I…” Protur stammered.

Chitin trotted over and turned off the radio.

“There will be no giving up on my watch,” He said softly.

His crew nodded as an entity.

“I wasn’t able to determine the exact fate of forward command, but the state of the battlefield suggests that they met some sort of an unfortunate fate,” Chitin continued as if nothing happened, “Our only hope will be to make our way back to the beach. If worst comes to worst…”

Chitin paused, dreading his next words.

“We’ll most likely have to abandon the tank due to fuel shortage.”

Pycin exhaled audibly, closing his eyes.

“We’ll depart at nightfall. The Equestrians do not have the night vision capabilities that we have.” 

Teir entered the tank through the driver’s hatch, having been on the lookout for any Equestrians who may have been wandering by. He looked around at the gathered changelings.

“We’ll be moving out at nightfall,” Chitin repeated, “Teir, get what rest you can”

The loader saluted and moved deeper into the tank.

Chitin pulled himself up to the cupola, and used the periscopes to peer outside of his tank. A formation of planes flew overhead. He noticed the Equestrian sun imprinted on the bottom of the wings and cursed. This meant only one thing, the Equestrians freed up enough resources from the North to send down to the South. 

He felt his stomach clench in on itself, reminding him that it was time to eat. He levitated the canteen towards himself, too tired to get up and get it himself. He drank the remainder of the contents, and layed back on his chair.

“Just a quick rest, “He told himself, and closed his eyes. 

________________________XxX__________________________________

Pycin peered out his driver’s periscope, feeling the sweat starting to dampen his uniform collar. The Equestrian convoy was passing within meters of their tank. The rumbling of tires resonated inside of it. To add onto that stress, each time a soldier shouted it sounded as if they had been discovered. 

Finally after what seemed like hours, the last truck passed by them. Pycin waited a minute or two just to make sure, then at the whispered command of Chitin, moved the tank forwards across the road, and into the tall grass on the other side.

“That was too close,” He muttered.

Luckily the night had masked the large form of the tank, and the ponies weren’t that observant.

There were only three miles to the beachhead. Protur had expressed his doubts about the continued existence of their theater’s command, and Chitin was starting to concur.

“Kommandant, I estimate that we have around one hundred and eleven liters of fuel left as reserve!” Tier called, dropping down from the turret.

“Not much left,” Chitin muttered, “Pycin, how much fuel is in the tank?”

“At least…” Pycin wiped some dust off of the gauges, “Fifty-five liters, Kommandant.”

Chitin nodded, “Very well, we’ll make it to the beachhead, and we’ll refuel there...if there’s anything left.”

The tank lurched as it made its way over a small rise in the ground. The dirt changed to sand at the 2nd mile. The strip of shoreline was dark except for an illuminated area approximately where the theater command was.

Chitin opened the turret hatch, and looked through his ever trusty binoculars.

“Sohn einer hündin,” He swore, “Equestrians..they.”

For the first time, Chitin truly felt scared. Trapped deep in enemy territory with no support whatsoever. Even his experiences in Olenia weren’t as intense as this.

His spirits sinking, he descended into the tank, closing the hatch behind him. Blocking out the sight of the bustling equestrian garrison and mass grave.

“Men…”

Chitin was at a loss for words. Nothing like this had happened in his career. In fact if things continued like this, nothing would happen after his career. The full realization of his plight struck him, and he slowly sank to the floor shaking. His whole world was spiraling out of control he was…

“Ob's sturmt oder schneit...”

Vitalia’s alto broke the silence as she started the opening stanza of a song nearly every tank crew knew.

Protur, Pycin, and Teir’s voices all rose along with Vitalia’s, the crew stomping their hooves in a rhythm that sounded like marching.

“Ob die Sonne uns lacht, 
Der Tag gluhend heis, 
Oder eiskalt die Nacht,”

Chitin raised his head, his eyes wide as he realized that his crew truly believed in him and that they were ready to let him lead.

“Bestaubt sind die Gesichter,
Doch froh ist unser Sinn,”

Chitin opened his mouth and began singing along with them, his powerful baritone mixing well with the Protur’s tenor, and Teir and Pycin’s bass. 

“ Ja, unser Sinn; 
Es braust unser Panzer, 
Im Sturmwind dahin!” 

His eyes were watering by the time they finished singing, he nearly broke down again, not in fear, but in joy. His crew looked at him expectantly, their expressions hopeful.

“Crew… in this moment I promise. Whatever it takes, I will get you home to your hives. “

Protur stepped forward, “Kommandant, in all honesty...I’d follow you through Tartarus and back. I’m sure the rest of you are in agreement?”

The rest of the crew nodded assent.

“Anyway, we trust you to get us back home. No assurance is needed.”

Chitin was overcome by another wave of pride, and he choked a bit on his words before getting them out,

“Let’s get out of here, shall we?”

__________________________XxX_________________________

“Here is the plan of attack,”

Chitin and his crew were gathered around the radio table, a small map rolled out in front of them. Pycin had moved the tank back into the tall grass, camouflaging it in case any wandering patrols managed to cross paths with it.

“According to Hive Radio, our northern divisions have managed to push at least as far as Mead Resort. We are at least three hundred miles away from the northern frontlines. I believe that we can drive the tank at least forty miles north of Los Pegasus if we drive using the roads. Twenty-five if we go off-road. Either way, we have to go on foot,” Chitin traced his hoof along the Western coastline of Equestria, until he reached the clearly marked Resort.

“So we’ll be walking the rest of the way?” Vitalia asked.

“That’s the plan. We may need to bring whatever love reserves we have in here, otherwise we’ll be forced to manually extract it. We’ll proceed in two minutes so we can have the cover of darkness. Ready?”

“Aye, Kommandant!”

Chitin nodded, “Godspeed..”

The tank ran out of fuel on the 31st mile. It rolled to a halt with a last sputtering gasp, and halted in the middle of a small forest.

“Everyone out! Bring all of our love and any necessary survival equipment. We’ll be walking the rest of the two hundred and seventy miles,” Chitin called, already carrying a rucksack filled with what he needed to survive. A Luger was tucked into his holster that he wore.

His crew members filed out of the tank’s turret hatch. Pycin giving it one last pat on the tread as he passed by it.

“You were a good girl,” he murmured sadly, “Damn shame…”

They started walking at a moderate pace, the woods eerily quiet without a large mechanical vehicle rolling through it.

Chitin had the map out in front of him, trying to figure out their exact location, while the rest of his crew admired the sights.

“Y’know, if we weren’t in war, I would like to live here,” Protur said wistfully, levitating a leaf in front of him, “Vraks was great, but it’s too industrialized.”

“This place is too damp for me,” Pycin replied, “I rather like the plains that we went through. I drive easier when it’s open.”

“Quiet back there,” Chitin hissed, “Remember, we’re in enemy territory.”

Pycin snapped his jaw shut with gulp, looking around as if he would suddenly be ambushed by a bunch of barbaric looking ponies.

By the time they made camp, Chitin estimated that they had gone at least two miles. Unfortunately, the condensed love had almost ran out as well.

Vitalia shook the last drop of the pink liquid onto her tongue, and screwed the lid back onto the canteen.

“If we don’t find an isolated farmhouse, I think we may starve,” She said.

“We might have to take a slight detour then,” Chitin replied, “If I have to, I can get directions from a passing soldier. They don’t know that we’re still alive.”

Vitalia nodded, “Good idea, Kommandant.”

The sun was low on the horizon by the time they started moving out again. A group of what now looked like a band of ragtag ponies made their way across the waving golden fields. A few hours passed, and the sun was high in the sky. Protur was starting to feel delusional.

“Yaknow what would be nice?” He slurred, stumbling into Teir, “A swimming pool of love. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

The one eyed changeling looked over at Chitin, “We really need to find an isolated source of love,” He said, concerned.

“Aye, but where are they? These plains are very uninhabited.” 

“Actually, I think I see something. If I can just,” Pycin took to the air, more clumsier flying than he was on the ground.

“YES!” He shouted, “ I see a silo, maybe a couple yards away!”

The former tank crew rushed towards the farmhouse still in their pony forms. Even Protur who looked drunk still had enough wits about him to maintain his illusion.

Chitin ran up to the porch of the farmhouse and knocked on the door. A cherry red stallion with a cutie mark depicting a bushel of wheat opened the door.

“Howdy stranger, how can I hel-“

Chitin dispelled his disguise, simultaneously pulling out his Luger, “Step into the house,” He ordered coldly, “Is there anyone else here besides you?”

“N-no.” The stallion said, nearly cross eyed as he looked down at the gun.

“Come in everyone,” Chitin ordered.

His tank crew stepped into the farmhouse and dispelled their disguises, carrying Protur who was currently still in his pony form. 

“Please don’t kill me,” The stallion pleaded, cowering away from the gun barrel. Chitin motioned him to step back to the wall, while he pushed Protur towards him. The starved changeling’s horn began glowing a sinister green.

__________________________XxX___________________________

“So what now?” Vitalia asked.

Chitin sat on the couch, listening to the radio which was broadcasting about the Battle of the Shire. Protus was sound asleep on the floor, and Pycin and Teir were currently off in fields fixing up the Stallion’s truck.

“We’ll take the truck the rest of the way. Hopefully no one questions us going towards the front-line,” Chitin replied.

“Hopefully,” Vitalia muttered.

“Truck’s fixed!” Pycin announced, walking into the living room, “We can let Protur ride with Teir and I in the front. Kommandant, hopefully you don’t mind riding with Vitalia.”

Chitin nodded, “Very well. How much fuel does it have?”

“Plenty Kommandant. I found a few gallons in the garage, and we should be able to get far just on that.”

“Excellent,” Chitin grinned, “This time I feel that we have a chance!”

They started driving later that day. The sun touched the horizon and Pycin flicked the lights on, illuminating the abandoned road in front of them. The crew were all in their pony forms as they drove so to not cause suspicion if they encountered an Equestrian patrol.

“I never knew you liked the classicals.” Teir commented idly, the car silent except for the soft strains of music coming out of the car radio.

“Having a neighbor that enjoys playing them makes you develop a taste for the way the music is arranged ,” Pycin replied, “Besides, some of the best composers were born in Ditrysium! We’re proud of our history!”

The driver looked over at the sleeping Protur, “It’s also supposed to help with dreams. Poor bastard’s gone through so much,”

“We all have,” Pycin replied, checking the map that was plastered to the drivers side window, “Good news however, we should be nearing the front pretty soon. Except… that means more Equestrian pa-“

Three forms passed in front of the car forcing Pycin to slam on the brakes lest he hit them. Chitin, who was peering over the roof, realized that they were infiltrators but was too late to warn the others. The Changeling spies pulled out silenced MP-40s and fired into the car. Not realizing that the “ponies” inside were actually some of the last surviving members of Fall Küste.

Chitin watched as Pycin was thrown against the back of his seat. Green blood spraying against the back window of the truck. Teir, that poor Changeling, was riddled with bullets, with one taking out his remaining eye. Protur died in his sleep. A bullets tearing apart his body while he was prone.

Chitin stood up, dispelled his disguise, screamed, “STOOOP!” 

The infiltrators stopped firing, shocked and confused as to why one of their own species was standing up in a truck full of ponies, then they took a closer look at the driver and passenger and realized why.

Chitin opened the driver side door openly sobbing at the mess that was now his driver and loader. Vitalia stepped down, shocked at the carnage that had just ensued.

“No…” She whispered also starting to tear up.

Chitin lifted the still body of Pycin, Teir and then Protur using his magic, then set them down gently on the side of the road. The infiltrators looked on, shocked that they had accidentally killed their own species. No one noticed the medal that dropped from Teir’s limp body or heard the sound it made as it hit the grass.

Chitin looked up towards them, “Give me a shovel,” He said, motioning towards the entrenchment tool the infiltrator held.

The other changeling did not move, so Chitin used magic to pull it out. He slowly began digging three graves for his fallen comrades, whose deaths came not from the enemy, but from the pride of their country. Vitalia stepped forward to help, but was rebuffed with a dead-eyed stare from Chitin.

Three Years Later

Chitin stared down at the three graves. Outwardly he showed no emotion, however his eyes welled up with tears. Vitalia came up behind him and stared down at them as well.

“It’s time to go,” She murmured, placing a hoof on Chitin’s shoulder.

Chitin nodded, but turned when he saw the glint in the grass. He went to check out what it was, and saw. The crescent medal gleamed in the light of the setting sun, the material having kept its luster even through the rain and dust of the Equestrian landscape.

Chitin picked it up. The only changeling he knew that had participated in the first failed attack on Canterlot lay at rest only a few inches away. He placed the medal on top of Teir’s grave and rested his hoofs on the other graves of the crewmembers he had lost.

He turned to Vitalia and never looked back.

END