Prologue: Sunstrike

Prologue

November 11, 1015

“All rise for Her Majesty, Field Marshal Princess Luna.” Field Marshal Prince Blueblood, clad in an ornate white uniform, called from beside the head of the long table placed in the center of the War Room. As he spoke, the doors to the War Room opened and the aforementioned alicorn entered the room. Lacking was the uniform that every other pony in the room wore, but she still projected an aura of authority to all those gathered.

“Be seated.” The Princess spoke tiredly, taking her seat at the head of the table while everypony else returned to sitting. “Let us begin. While the last three months have been disastrous, it appears we have hope in this darkness.” Her head turned towards the opposite end of the table, where the lowest ranked officers present were sat. “I do believe we have a new addition to thank for this. However, before we might plan for the future, I believe it prudent to ensure everypony understands the situation in full. Field Marshal Shimmer, might I ask you to catch everypony up on the current situation?”

After a moment, another pony near the head of the table stood. The yellow mare clad in a grey dress uniform stood and bowed her head to the Princess quickly. “Yes, your majesty.” She then turned to address the rest of the table with a stack of papers levitating before her. “As we certainly all know, the Changeling’s summer offensive in the south has been a disaster for our forces since June. I’ll begin with the worst news: the fifteenth and thirty second divisions have been completely eradicated in the Whitetail Woods.” Many a pony at the table let out a sigh or grimaced at that particular news. It was the worst single loss since the first months of the war, and the less remembered about those darkest of days the better.

“Several other divisions have taken heavy casualties and have pulled back from the line to regroup.” Shimmer continued. “Las Pegasus is under siege but the Royal Marines are holding out. Admiral, if you would elaborate on the situation a bit for me.” The Field Marshal finished, motioning to the seat beside her for a moment.

“Certainly, Marshal Shimmer.” The Admiral spoke before standing up with a small stack of papers. “The marines are using the harbor facilities to keep supplies and reinforcements coming into the city. The Home Fleet is doing the best they can to support the siege, with our carrier fleet providing air cover and our remaining capital ship force providing escort. Most of our cruiser and destroyer fleet is dedicated to escorting the supply convoys, though two cruiser divisions and a hoof full of destroyer flotillas remain with the fleet.” Admiral Cynosura elaborated.

“Changeling naval and air efforts over the Pegasi Gulf have been escalating, but they have been repulsed thus far. The limited infrastructure of the south has limited the number of aircraft that the Luftwaffe has moved into striking distance of our fleet. Thus far, we have kept the sea lanes to Las Pegasus well and cordoned off, but we expect increased resistance with each passing day.” The Admiral set down her pages, her part concluded. “That is all, Marshal.”

The yellow unicorn nodded as her naval counterpart took her seat once more. “As alluded to by the Admiral, the Changeling advance is gradually stalling due to overextension of their supply lines. This is due in large part to the heroics of the Royal Marines in Las Pegasus as well as the Mountaineers’ Corps.” Several voices began to speak in hushed tones about the table. That many of Equestria’s pre-war veterans made up these units was not lost upon those gathered, with many silently thanking the heavens that there were any brave enough to stay behind. “We briefly touched on the Royal Marines, but the Mountaineers’ Corps has also decided to make their final stand in defense of Equestria. They have dug into their defenses in the Ruby Mountain Pass to the east, and are defending the rail tunnel that connects the Oleander Valley to the south.”

“Thus far we have kept their efforts supplied by air, and the ponies of the Royal Air Force have done excellent work keeping the skies clear for these missions. Unfortunately, with the rapid advance of the Changeling forces, we have lost much of our capability to properly field ground based aircraft in the south.” A third pony chimed in, this time Air Marshal Spitfire, formerly of the Wonderbolts. “The Fleet Air Arm is picking up the slack around Las Pegasus, but the RAF is spread extremely thin contesting the air over the Cloudsdale salient and maintaining security over the heartland.”

“This situation is not exclusive to the RAF. The NMAC has been unable to deploy to the southern deserts due to the underdeveloped infrastructure in place to supply them with fuel and parts to maintain their vehicles.” Shimmer added. “Apologies, continue Air Marshal.”

“Right. The heartland skies remain contested, though we are winning the upper hoof in this fight due to the widespread redeployment of Luftwaffe assets. Deep strike missions from their bombers have nearly ceased over the coastal plains in favor of disrupting the logistics in the south. We are working to counter this, but with limited infrastructure the RAF is suffering heavy losses to disrupt what air traffic we can.” The pegasus concluded, taking her seat once more.

“That brings us to the situation on the ground east of Las Pegasus.” Marshal Shimmer picked up quickly. “The Changeling Panzer Army has advanced to within a hundred kilometers of Cloudsdale. Their advance, although slowed by the efforts of the Wonderbolts as well as the Second Army’s rapid response, continues to grind on and threaten a major lifeline of the war effort.” Everypony at the table nodded in agreement. Cloudsdale was arguably the beating heart of Equestria’s war effort. The weather factory was a decisive factor in Equestria’s survivability, both on the battlefield and the production front.

“Skirmishes outside of Ponyville have escalated into full scale battle between the 24th and 66th Infantry Divisions and the IX Panzer Corps, with the Changelings slowly pushing our forces back to the defenses on the town proper. General Macintosh’s Seventh Army is being deployed there in force, though his III Corps is defending presently. General, please elaborate on the defensive preparations in Ponyville.”

A large red earth pony clad in a grey army uniform stood slowly. “Thank ya, Marshal. So far, the Everfree Forest has been a barrier the Changelings have dared not try and go through, which gives us some reprieve from the eastern advance.” The large pony spoke slowly, in a relatively calming voice that clashed with the dire situation he began to describe. “The Changeling advance south has similarly been slowed by logistics problems, but has effectively ceased entirely due to their focus on Cloudsdale and presumably Canterlot. Ponyville stands in their way, the only attack vector they can reasonably exploit to split Cloudsdale from Canterlot. The engineering battalions of the Seventh Army have been workin’ day and night to prepare adequate defenses for a protracted battle while III Corps stalls on the outskirts as long as they can.” The large pony concluded his piece by sitting down, nodding to Sunset Shimmer so she could continue.

“Thank you, General.” She picked up without missing a beat. “The Everfree Forest has been a blessing and a curse. We cannot risk leaving it undefended, but since it is a large strategic barrier we have been able to station fewer troops than otherwise would have been necessary. RAF patrols are constantly over the area, but the infrastructure around the area of Canterlot and Ponyville is sufficient for rapid redeployment if they attempt a crossing of the Everfree.” The Field Marshal scanned her notes as she reached the last page, ensuring she covered all the details. “As a final point, we have redeployed eleven divisions to the line outside of Las Pegasus to stem the tide against the Changeling advance. Their advances south have effectively stopped outside of Rockville, with fighting in the city itself relatively sporadic.” Shimmer placed her papers down on the table, her magic’s glow fading from them as she nodded to the Princess at the head of the table. “That is all from me, your Majesty.” She finished, before taking her seat.

“Thank you Marshal Shimmer. Quite the dour picture of our current situation, but as I am to understand it we have some ideas on a solution.” Princess Luna said from the head before her eyes scanned down the War Room’s table. “As a matter of fact, it seems as though this problem may have been entirely avoidable if our chain of command passed along information a bit more quickly.” The Princess’ eyes locked onto a pony wearing a pure white Royal Navy uniform at the far end of the table with the most junior officers. “I do believe that is where you come in Commodore Web. If you might quickly introduce yourself to those who do not know who you are, then get on to the brass tacks of the issue.”

As the Princess finished speaking, the white Royal Navy uniformed pony stood from her place at the end of the table. A grey hoof quickly brushed away some misplaced strands of her tricolor mane as she began to speak up. “Thank you, your majesty. As a brief introduction, I am Commodore Inky Web. I am the acting commander of the Wonderbolts Ground Forces and commanding officer of the Combined Special Service Regiment. While I wear a Naval uniform I have had my hooves on the ground for the entire war.” She spoke, before reaching for a stack of papers on the table in front of her. “As the Princess said, I’ll move on to the brass tacks here. During the escalation of the Third Battle of Bales in July of last year, I penned a missive to Lieutenant General Berrytwist regarding the strategic situation of the fronts based on the results of the 1013 summer offensive and the apparent trajectory of the 1014 summer offensive. A simplified version of my conclusion was that the Changelings could not fight on our terms where we are capable of digging in deep and holding the line. The 1013 and 1014 offensives are excellent examples of this, where we have managed to hold the line for two years while inflicting heavy losses on the enemy. The 1014 offensive was a defining moment in both our Doctrine and the Changeling view on the war, as they were repulsed from Bales after a protracted six month battle that ultimately cost both sides up to a combined million casualties.

“This strategic analysis does not include Bales as an example, as it was penned before the conclusion of the battle, but it does prove the point well. As written in October of last year; the Changeling war doctrine did not account for the speed of Equestrian reorganization once the Western Frontier was broken. This shows in their apparent willingness to commit to massed offensives wherein their mobile assets are of dubious use and they have to accept mass casualties for small gain. This, much like our own strategic doctrine, is likely a product of inexperience with modern war, especially as the circumstances continue to evolve. After the failure of the 1013 offensive, they were too late in the planning phase to cancel the 1014 offensive but their objective shifted. Instead of a front-wide offensive, they concentrated their forces on Bales. This forced us to commit significant portions of our mobile strategic reserves to the front, which I believe was the true objective of the 1014 offensive.” The Commodore’s assertion had several higher officers shaking their heads as they flipped through the pages of the dossier in front of them. Despite their disagreement, they allowed her to continue for the time being.

“As we committed more and more resources to holding the line, I noticed something that was rather strange in consideration of the Changeling’s usual strategy; they had not committed significant armored or mechanized forces to the breakthrough and instead opted for a mass infantry assault on a city.” The Commodore continued, not paying mind to the others at the table and keeping her eyes glued to her own notes. “Very counter to their usual massed mechanized assaults. It was thought that it was a change to their strategy, to assault valuable targets in point attacks since their usual breakthrough and encircle tactic was not working. However, we were wrong. Bales was a diversion, one that cost us almost eight months and a third of a million casualties. While they were forced to commit more than they would have ideally liked to lock us into the defense there, they had concentrated their elite armored and mechanized corps in Prancisco for their Spring Offensive.”

“If you were confident at the time, why didn’t you warn the High Command of your concerns?” Marshal Blueblood interrupted, placing his dossier back on the table. Several other officers who were a part of the Marshal’s staff murmured their agreement with the Prince’s inquiry, while Web lowered the papers in her hooves to look down the table towards the Marshal.

“In December of 1014, I tried to pass this warning up the chain of command, Sir. Unfortunately, by that point it was too late. Our lines of communication up the chain of command are awful; so much so that anypony not of flag rank may as well give up on having their ideas reach the High Command in time to be implemented.” The Commodore responded, before lifting the papers into her vision once more.

“By the time any warning would have reached the High Command, our reserves were committed and our infrastructure beyond the heartland was insufficient for a mass redeployment. Thus, they launched their true attack at our exposed underbelly. The rest was touched upon by Marshal Shimmer.” Web finished, placing down the first part of the stack of papers and picking up a second. “At some point in the last three months, my warning was finally received by someone in Princess Luna’s command staff, outside the purview of my Army Group’s chain of command.” The officer elaborated as she flipped to the first page of her papers. “There were numerous operational failings discovered by internal investigation within the High Command that I have been asked to address. Firstly, bureaucracy is still severely slowing down the transfer of information within the military and is hampering our adaptability. Second, we are too reliant on the chain of command, and when we are unprepared in this room, the troops on the ground are unprepared as well. Luckily, this issue seems to be resolving itself in the face of adversity. As Marshal Shimmer noted, the commanding officers of the Mountaineers’ Corps and Royal Marines have potentially saved Equestria due to their decision to break with doctrine and hold the strategic supply routes the Changelings need to press the attack. This is a trend that needs to be encouraged among officers at the regimental level and above going forward.”

“Secondly, the allocation of resources for the war effort has been severely mismanaged. Over eighty percent of our weapons are bound for the heartland, which would be of little concern if the southern front was properly managed.” Web said, before lowering the paper to look down the table. “Unfortunately, the logistics situation was not addressed in the south due to a disproportionate focus on the heartland during times of relative inaction. This has led to massive stockpiles in the north that have taken an egregiously long time to reach the critical front in the south. This supply mismanagement is a leading cause to the slow redeployment in the south.”

Web placed down the second stack of papers, still eying the rest of the table. “While other issues were identified, they are considered secondary and will be addressed internally by the High Command in the coming weeks.” The pegasus picked up a new folder, and motioned to the rest of the table as she held it up. “Now, we move on to the proposal for what to do now. Please refer to the dossier in front of you for a finer presentation of the numbers, but I will run through the overarching plan as devised by myself, Lieutenant General Pie, Lieutenant General Berrytwist and several others who unfortunately could not be here today.” Web said, flipping to the next page of the stack and waiting for others to find their place in the papers in front of them.

“We are currently dealing with a threefold issue. Firstly, we must hold Cloudsdale. Losing the weather facilities there would be devastating to the war effort. Second, holding Las Pegasus will be vital to keeping the Changeling offensive sluggish and vulnerable. Third, supporting the mountaineers.” The officer outlined, leading the others through the outline of the proposal. “The second and third issues will be under the purview of the Royal Navy and Royal Air Force, respectively. While I can outline the strategic necessities, I cannot assess the tactical situation anywhere but on the ground.”

“Air Marshal Spitfire,” The mare started, turning to the officer in question. “The RAF must keep the air supply lines to the Mountaineers open. The denial of the Ruby Mountain Railroad has made it impossible for the Changelings to circumvent the Las Pegasus Port for supply, and is forcing them to use the underdeveloped coastal rails from Prancisco. I am aware of the current rate of attrition for the pilots flying on this front, but it is a strategic necessity that the sorties continue.” As the naval officer spoke, the orange maned Air Marshal nodded as she read the estimates of attrition rates of pilots and equipment for a protracted air campaign over the Twilight Range.

“Similarly, the Royal Navy must continue to maintain naval superiority in the Pegasi Gulf.” Web continued, turning to Admiral Cynosura. “Current intelligence from SMILES’ signals intel division indicates that Changeling submarine operations in the Celestial Sea are going to be turning down significantly. They interpret that to mean that the Gulf is going to get extremely crowded in the near future. We should have the ability to fly more extensive sorties from ground based aircraft by the end of September, so your capital units should be unshackled from the coast. As of right now, naval forces will have the highest priority to our fuel reserves to keep that sea lane open to shipping. Again, I must leave the specifics of how you handle this up to you.” The Admiral nodded to her junior, keeping her thoughts to herself as the briefing continued.

“On the ground, we’ve been extensively reorganizing our divisions and infrastructure along the frontline to handle the crisis. Ponyville and Cloudsdale are being fortified to the best of our Engineering Corps’ abilities, and the logistics situations in this sector are capable of holding considerably more divisions than is currently projected to be necessary for the defense. All of our best pegasus units, including the Wonderbolts and CSS, will be redeployed to Cloudsdale while many of our veteran units from the line are being rotated to the salient. Approximately thirty six divisions of the Seventh Army and XII Corps will be assigned to the salient under the command of General Macintosh and Brigadier Fon Eisenstadt to contain the Changeling advance into the heartland. While this force holds the line the New Mareland Armored Corps, supported by the Eighth Army under Lieutenant General Applejack that is en route to theater and the Ninth Army under Major General Braeburn of the strategic reserve, will be deployed to the Changelings’ southern line outside of Rockhoof. During this time, we will be relieving the Royal Marines on the Siege of Las Pegasus with the six divisions of IX Corps under Lieutenant and Major Generals Pinkie and Maud Pie that have been recently returned to operational status after Bales.” The Commodore lowered her papers and took a deep breath for a moment, before flipping to the next page of her notes.

“The Royal Marines will be based temporarily in Foaledo in preparation for the next phase of the operation. They will likely require extensive rearmament and retraining of new troops over the winter months ahead of phase two. This will end the buildup phase of this proposed 1016 Spring Counteroffensive.” Web said, placing the next section of her papers on the table.

“Is there not plenty of concern that diverting this many divisions to the southern front will weaken our position in the Heartland? You have assigned seventy-nine divisions to be redeployed which would leave the strategic reserve for the Heartland to less than twenty. Should another Bales happen during the spring or summer I fear we may not have the strength to repulse it.” Prince Blueblood asked, looking over the logistics estimates for the offensive. “With the numbers I’m seeing here, it appears that if this offensive doesn’t succeed we will be on our back hooves in this war for some time to come.”

“I happen to agree with Prince Blueblood. This is a redeployment of most of our ready reserves that have been pivotal on the frontlines in the Heartland. I worry about redeploying such a large amount when we could establish an effective defensive line with much less as we have before. An offensive to reconnect our frontline with Las Pegasus may be necessary, but I believe it far too risky to sacrifice our reserves on a massed offensive to reestablish last year’s frontline.” General Soarin spoke, peering over the documents he was given.

“What would you have us do then?” Brigadier Fon Eisenstadt, one of the officers at the junior end of the room, spoke. “Simply dig in and feed millions more into the grinder to die pointlessly? Our current strategy has done little but stop us from losing, I for one am in favor of trying to win the war. This plan is the first reasonable offensive opportunity we have been presented with. Their offensive is pushing so quickly and with such little supply they haven’t had the opportunity to dig in. We must strike while the iron is hot.”

Similar opinions began to filter in from the junior end of the table, while more senior officers began to voice their agreement with Prince Blueblood. Soon, the room erupted into all out argument while Princess Luna and Commodore Web attempted to calm the situation, to no avail. For a few minutes, the argument continued to get heated, with the moderates giving up on bringing order to the situation. Princess Luna stood from her seat and took in a deep breath, preparing to use her now rarely used Royal Canterlot Voice, before the doors to the War Room slammed open. The room became deathly silent as through the door marched an angry looking Princess Celestia, followed by her secretary who was trying to convince the Princess to stop.

The ponies at the table all stared at the white alicorn, not sure what to do in the presence of the ruler. She was usually completely hooves off with military matters, and her sudden appearance at the meeting came as a complete shock to all present. Perhaps it wasn’t necessarily her presence that was so shocking, but it was the pure rage that radiated from her form as she approached the table. She stood beside her sister at the head of the table, and began to whisper quietly in Luna’s ear. The table maintained its tense silence as the sisters carried on for several minutes, before Luna nodded her head and Celestia stood to address the gathered officers.

“All of you.” Princess Celestia addressed those gathered, her gaze sweeping across the table with barely contained rage. “What is being done to win this war?”

Several officers looked across the table at each other in concern, none daring to speak for several moments as they searched for the right thing to say to their ruler. It was ultimately Prince Blueblood that would speak first, addressing his aunt carefully. “Your Highness, we are currently gathered to plan our response to the developments of this year. We are considering the best strategy to shore up the line around the new salient and carry on the defense.”

“You mean this year’s disaster, Blueblood?” The Princess snapped back, her gaze shifting to her nephew. “I was promised that we had the bugs contained last year, that we would now focus on winning this war and bringing peace back to my ponies. Instead, I am delivered a debacle at Bales and this… This… Absolute fucking dumpster fire that was this summer! We are losing this war, and this asinine plan to ‘bleed the bugs dry’ is doing nothing but spilling our blood in buckets! How were you not prepared for this eventuality?!” The Princess lamented, stomping a hoof to emphasize her question. “And it was inevitable, more than one pony attempted to point out this impending disaster and yet here you were with your head in the mud pushing for your glorious victory at Bales. A glory whose foundation is built upon the bodies of a hundred thousand ponies who died for no gain.” Celestia growled the last sentence, before turning away from her thoroughly cowed nephew to pace down the table behind several officers. “So… Now that my feelings on the matter are made clear, what is being done to fix this? Is there a single pony here with a competent plan to win this war?”

For a moment there was a tense silence as everypony at the table looked between each other nervously. Many were in varying states of shock, only ever knowing the calm and benevolent Princess Celestia. The Princess’ expression became more impatient with each passing second, before a voice spoke up across the table.

“Your Highness, we were gathered here to discuss the merits of a plan that myself and several colleagues who could not be in attendance today made to counter the Changeling summer offensive. I have made plans for a counteroffensive that I believe at worst would result in our repulsing of the Changeling line back to the line in Spring.” Commodore Web spoke, her head raised to keep her nervous gaze on her ruler.

Princess Celestia stopped her pacing and turned her head towards the voice, before beginning to walk around the table towards the officer. “At worst. Those are fairly lofty goals, considering how ineffective these ‘plans’ have been at producing anything but a mountain of bodies.” Celestia stopped her walk behind the seat Web sat in, though the officer dared not turn around to face the monarch. “And what, pray tell, is the best case outcome of the plan?” The Princess asked, her horn glowing faintly for a moment as she spun the officer’s chair to face her. “And please, don’t lie to me.”

Web’s frightened yellow eyes locked with the Princess’ as she found herself lost for words for a brief moment. After a few moments of searching for the words, the Commodore mustered a response to the monarch. “If all goes to plan, and we are correct in our analysis of the available intelligence…” She trailed off, shrinking under the hardening gaze of the Princess. The officer forced herself to close her eyes and take a deep breath, before opening her eyes to meet the gaze of the Princess once more. Gathering all the confidence remaining in her heart, she delivered her honest thoughts to Celestia. “I believe that the same disaster that was inflicted upon us this summer can be brought down tenfold on the bugs.”

The Princess stared at the Navy officer for a moment, before she began to chuckle. The chuckle evolved into a very short laugh, before she suddenly stopped and her glare returned. “You truly believe that, don’t you?” The Princess asked in a much more level tone than her anger before.

The Commodore met the gaze of the Princess, and nodded once. “Yes your Highness, I do. The same weaknesses they exploited to get this far, we can exploit to destroy them. They’ve overextended, undersupplied and vulnerable. Now is our chance, and it may be our last one.”

For what felt like an eternity to those gathered, the Goddess of the Sun stared down the terrified officer in her grasp. The alicorn’s unfaltering gaze seemingly staring deeply into the soul of the pegasus in her grasp before she suddenly turned around to walk back down the length of the table towards the head once more. “Dear Sister, Sunset Shimmer, stay here. Everypony else except the Commodore, get out. I am taking control here and now.”

It took several minutes, but the other generals gathered their things and departed with attitudes ranging from indignity from some and complete obedience from others. Despite the rapidly decreasing population of the room, Commodore Web took her seat at the far end of the table as the pair of Princesses and Field Marshal conversed at the far end of the table. After years of combat the officer had nothing to write home about in terms of her hearing, but she still strained to hear what was being conversed in hushed tones at the far end of the table.

“...Enacted hurt our ponies, not protect them.” The pegasus heard from the Princess of the Night, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths to calm herself after her own conversation with the enraged Princess. “Please, stop for a while and think about this before-” The Princess was abruptly interrupted by what could best be described as a snarl from her sister.

“I am perfectly fine. Do not bother me again with your insulting concerns. If I do not do something, there will be nothing left to protect. In the chaos of this war, I seem to be one of the only ones who can see this madness for what it is. Absolute insanity. Ponies willing to throw away hundreds of thousands of their own, all so that we can die slower. No empathy, no compassion, just a cold war machine willing to spend lives like bits. Look outside, the enemy is on the horizon, grinding relentlessly to the complete and utter destruction of Harmony and Equestria. I have been complacent for centuries, too weak to protect my ponies. Too willing to let evil exist out of my sight. Only now do I see the error of my ways. Now I will stop at nothing until the enemies of Harmony are but ashes and dust. It is the only way to right what I have made wrong.”

As the sisters conversed quietly, Marshal Shimmer appeared to be equally as uncomfortable as Web felt when the Commodore glanced back down the table. She caught the tail end of an angry glare Celestia had been fixing upon her sister, before the Princess looked down the table and motioned a hoof to the officer. “Come down here, Commodore. We have much to discuss between us.”

Dutifully, Web stood from her place at the end of the table. She took a moment to gather up her documents and briefcase before making her way towards the head of the table. She took a seat beside Sunset Shimmer nervously, sitting across from Princess Celestia directly. As she settled in, the Princess began to address the smaller group of ponies.

“Luna, Sunset, I need your honest opinion. Is our current situation tenable?” She asked, looking at the two highest officers in the Equestrian Army.

The yellow unicorn sighed, letting her shoulders slouch slightly as she replied to the inquiry. “Most likely not. While the attrition warfare in the heartland is certainly to our advantage in terms of holding the line, it is certainly unsustainable at its current rate. Our current casualty estimates are at over a million dead and captured and nearly twice that wounded. If we factor in the unknowns in the occupied territories, it’s a grim picture. We cannot afford operations like Bales for much longer if we want any hope of winning this war.”

“Indeed.” Agreed Luna, shaking her head sadly. “While I commend our general staff and soldiers for holding the line as they have, they fail to see the big picture. For all that we have the advantage in both industrial capacity and mobilizable population, we are playing catchup. Even if we can estimate the casualties for the last two years are approximately equal, that would still leave their losses at half ours.”

Web sighed as her superiors summed up the situation, knowing they were right. “If I might chime in…” She said, pausing until she received a nod from all gathered. “It’s not only military lives that we are concerned with here. If we fail now it’s not only us, but every pony that lives in Equestria. If we lose Cloudsdale, it's a famine. No more extended growing seasons to support the war effort, no more perfect weather, no more food. Griffonia and Wingbardy have essentially given their support to Chrysalis, so we have to support ourselves.” The naval officer began to flip pages in her dossier, searching for logistics numbers within the pages. “Our position is extremely tenuous. We must repulse this attack, even damage to the weather factories will be devastating to the war effort. Look at these figures here.”

The group of ponies looked over to the figure that the commodore had placed on the table in front of them. Princess Luna was the first to speak, looking over the figures with a shake of the head. “It’s worse than I imagined. We are barely in the green as it stands, and rationing is in full effect. Loss of fifty percent output would reduce our growing season to unsustainable levels.”

“Then it is imperative that we repulse the Changelings. They’re within a hundred kilometers of the city and still advancing, however slowly.” Sunset Shimmer said with a sigh. “Despite what the Prince says, it does seem like committing to this offensive is the most intelligent option. I simply worry that the Changelings are aware of that fact all too well. Perhaps their own losses in the past two years have been severe enough to push them into desperately pursuing the decisive fight.”

“I’m inclined to believe something close to that, though it may not be complete desperation. It was the last apparent chance for them to implement their more successful strategies before we shored up the line there as well.” Web added. “I think that the desperation didn’t begin to set in until they were unable to secure the Las Pegasus Port or the Ruby Mountain Railroad. They can’t afford to stop their offensive now, else we’d be able to fortify. Their supplies are drying up, and now they’re getting desperate for a decisive battle.”

“Indeed.” Luna continued. “And they can fish for it because they are close enough to Cloudsdale to force us into a confrontation.”

“Not an enviable position.” Celestia spoke, eyes skimming the pages of the dossier in front of her. “Yet, it seems like we might have a response.” The Princess’ eyes raised from the papers and she directed them at Web. “So, Commodore. Please, elaborate on your plan for me. The sooner we figure this out, the sooner we can prepare.”

“Right. I detailed the buildup phase of the operation earlier, I am sure you’ve read through those plans in the logistics sections.” She waited for Celestia to nod before continuing. “Good. Then I’d like to detail the 1016 Summer Offensive, Codename: Sunstrike. The centerpiece of phase one on the ground is the Ruby Mountain Railroad.”

Chapter One: Sky High

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Chapter 1: Sky High

From the Journal of Maple Sugar: June 11, 1015

We got the news today that Raspberry Grove has fallen to the Changelings. Armored divisions broke over the river yesterday and are making a mad dash for Peachville with little in their way. The fifteenth and thirty second are holding them back in the White Tail Woods, at least for now, but orders are coming down that we’re going to be falling back behind the river at Ponydale to defend the supply depot there while the line is reformed.

I think everypony knew that was a bad idea. We’re holding the supply link from the north to the south in the Ruby Mountains, and I ain’t going to believe for a second a pony thought abandoning that is a good idea. General Reckless knew that, and this morning he gave a speech over the radio to us about the situation. Told us that the order is to fall back, and we are welcome to follow that order if we’d like.

Of course, he wasn’t going to do that. He said he’d be staying put, digging in deeper and making the Bugs dig him out with overwhelming force. I think that’s a sentiment that most everypony shared, I didn’t hear of one pony who will be leaving Dragon Mountain.

Today’s entry has got to be short. I’ve got work to do helping the squad digging some defenses facing south before the Bugs get here. Going to be losing sleep for the next few weeks, but Soft is holding out hope that the heads back in Canterlot are going to have this resolved before the winter sets in.

—-------

December 09, 1015

“So much for shit being fixed by winter.” A pony’s voice muttered. The speaker was hardly recognizable as a living creature, a heavy winter coat and scarf covering every bit of exposed coat aside from his green muzzle. The stallion stayed deathly still, a pair of binoculars pressed to the goggles over his eyes as he peered through a small gap in the snow bank that served as his cover.

“Ain’t gonna let it go, are you?” Said another white clad stallion lying in the snow. His voice was slightly higher than his counterpart, and carried a distinctive accent typical to southern Equestria. “I’m just tryin’ to keep morale up.” The pony continued, the tan hair of his right cheek resting on the stock of a white painted Lillia rifle as his blue eyes peered through the scope affixed to it.

“I think that ship has sailed, Soft.” The first pony said, lowering the binoculars from his eyes for a moment. He moved slowly to pick up a hoof full of snow, shoveling the cold crystals into his mouth before the binoculars came back up. Through the glass lenses, the stallion watched from on high a Changeling encampment some two hundred meters down the steep slope of the mountainside. Grey uniformed changelings huddled around fires to try and keep warm in the frigid winter conditions at the high altitudes of the Ruby Mountains.

“Ain’t sailed yet. We’re still kickin’.” Soft Landing spoke back to his partner. “Noticed any patrols headin’ out of there, Sugar? Officer has been talkin’ on that radio like mad for the last ten minutes or so. Gotta be some spotter somewhere eyein’ the supply flight.” The sniper spoke, remaining dead still as he could.

“None. Probably thinking they’re far enough downslope now to be off the frontlines.” Maple Sugar responded, squinting his tired eyes to stay focused on the picture beneath him. “Fuck, I’m tired. Flyboys need to pick it up, this is supposed to be my shift to rest.” He complained, lowering the binoculars again. He shuffled around slowly, pulling a carefully folded silk map from beneath his chest. He refolded it so a small portion of the map was face up, and he leaned it against the snow bank. “About five hundred meters out, are we worried about collateral on this one?”

“Naw. Think we’re far enough up that we ain’t gotta worry too much.” Soft responded, his gaze drifting to his right away from the lens of his rifle’s scope. “Don’t get antsy on me now. Ain’t our first rodeo, we’ll be fine so long as they don’t sneak patrols out of that camp. Keep your eye out for that.” He said, his eye fixing back into the lens of the scope. “How’s Stroke doing? You got to check up on her last week, she back on her hooves yet?” The sniper asked, trying to make small talk as the two waited.

“Better. She can walk again.” Sugar responded, lifting the binoculars again to peer into the changelings’ camp. “She’s on light duty at headquarters, serving as radio operator until she’s ready for action again.”

“That’s good to hear. I was worried she’d be down for the count.” Soft responded, before his body tensed slightly. “Hey, I got some wanderers. West side of camp, you see them?” The sniper spoke, the safety on his rifle flipping off as he followed his targets.

Sugar’s view shifted to the right slowly until he laid eyes on a pair of changelings that were leaving the camp in their direction. One carried a submachine gun, while the other hauled a small sled of supplies behind him. “Looks like they’re off to take some supplies to their OP if I had to guess.”

“Too bad we got there first.” Soft said, hoof slowly sliding towards the trigger. “Get on that radio to the flyboys. We’re gonna have to take ‘em out before they figure out what happened. Can’t do it myself or we’ll stir the hornet’s nest.” He said, following the bugs with his rifle as they began to slowly trudge through the snow on their way up the slope.

Sugar wasted no time in putting down his binoculars, turning around carefully to dust off the canvas covering of his saddlebag radio. He checked the settings of the radio, before he picked up the hoof set and placed it to the side of his head. “Giant, Brightside. Giant, Brightside. Do you copy? Over.” He spoke into the radio as quietly as he could manage.

For several seconds, there was nothing but the faint hum of static in his ear before a slightly garbled female voice responded over the radio. “Brightside, Giant. Go ahead, over.” It responded succinctly.

“Giant, we need to know when Tombstone plans to show up. We’ve got company incoming, over.” Sugar said, picking up his Limestone submachine gun from the snow bank beside the radio. He used a coat clad hoof to brush snow out of the action as best he could, before he pulled back the slide to make sure it wasn’t frozen shut.

“Roger, Brightside. Protect yourselves, I’ll get a sitrep from Tombstone. Giant out.” The voice responded before silence reigned again. The stallion continued to check over his weapon, ensuring there was no icing that would prevent the weapon from firing before closing the bolt and fitting a magazine into the weapon. “Alright old man, Stroke’s figuring out where they’re at. How’re we looking?”

“Praise Celestia, they’re taking their darn sweet time.” The sniper responded, still peering through the sight. “Think you can sneak your way back around the rocks to the north? They’re climbing the ridge to the north, could get a decent ambush over there.” Sugar checked the barrel of the weapon, notably a newer production model that included a much thicker barrel than most. Courtesy of an RAF resupply drop some months ago, Sugar had obtained a new model suppressed Limestone originally meant for the CSS commandos.

“I’ll do my best.” Sugar responded, turning to the other stallion. “Where’d you stash your mirror? That way I can signal you if I need to.” He asked, slinging his submachine gun around his neck and pulling his scarf over his muzzle.

“Top pocket of the saddlebag. I’ll keep an ear out for the call on Tombstone, stay safe out there.” Soft replied as Sugar began to dig through the pockets on the saddlebag for a small square mirror. Once he found it buried in the pouch, he slipped it into his bandolier. Sugar nodded, before crawling his way out the back of their enclosure. As he rolled out, he let his eyes peer off to the east, opposite the direction they’d been watching for some days to see the picturesque landscape that was the Dragon Mountain jutting into the sky.

The massive peak of the mountain and the smaller peaks of some outlying mountains were covered in gleaming white snow that caught the overhead sun. It was nature defined, and if not for the gun around his neck Sugar may have thought the world a peaceful place once more. The stallion took a moment to turn his head to the north, watching as the sheer cliffs of the mountains fell away into a lightly snow-covered valley over two thousand meters below. As far as the eye could see, there were gentle snow blanketed plains with the faintest detail of leafless trees merging into vague forests in the distance. As the wind blew into his masked face, his eyes raised to meet a swirling mass of dark clouds moving towards the mountain.

After a mere moment to bask in the beautiful landscape of the alpine front, Sugar ducked his head low and began to make a trot through the knee deep snow. He made sure to keep a low profile, making his way northwest to an outcropping of rocky terrain that jutted out from the snow and headed up the length of the ridge they had perched themselves on. He began to slide himself down the relatively steep slope, eyes scanning downslope from himself for the distinctive darker hues of the changeling uniforms or chitin. After an agonizingly long several minutes of pushing through the snow Sugar managed to press himself against the rocky ridge about two hundred meters from the observation post, steadying his weapon against the rocks towards the end of the rock formation ahead of him. His perch sat beside the gentlest incline up the ridge some fifty meters after it turned back south towards their previous position.

“Fucking Hell Landing…” Sugar whispered as he breathed out, his heart beating quickly from exerting his tired body. He moved a hoof up and pulled back the bolt on his weapon, the heavy bolt of the submachine gun locking back and ready to fire. The stallion then steadied his breathing and pulled down the hood over his head, revealing a dark brown mane and dark green ears that had perked up to listen for the changeling patrol. He strained to hear over the whistle of wind at the high altitude, but began to make out the chattering of the changelings as they approached.

The white clad pony wedged himself deeper in the snow between the rocks as he listened to them approach. As they closed in towards him, the crunch of snow underhoof and the scraping of the sled being dragged became more audible over the wind and Sugar’s hoof pressed lightly on the trigger as he prepared his ambush. After a couple minutes more the pair of changelings rounded the corner, their grey uniforms ill suited for alpine combat standing starkly against the white snow. The stallion squeezed the trigger with his hoof, tightening his grip down to control the recoil of the weapon as it spit bullets from its muzzle.

The weapon was by no means silent, though the suppressor muffled the sound of gunshots enough that there was no echo off the rocks or mountainside to carry over the wind. Sugar let off the trigger after a couple of seconds. As he lowered the gun he noticed the two changelings collapsed in the snow, green blood soaking into the white powder as he stood up out of his hiding place. His head snapped downslope, making sure that the changelings were definitely alone before he came out of cover. He pulled the white hood back over his head as he trudged through the snow towards the bodies.

“Sorry guys, nothing personal.” He said, shooting each changeling in the head to make sure they were gone before he pulled the white covers off of his hooves to grab onto the straps on the dead bug’s webbing. Green blood smeared over the pony’s hooves as he dragged them, the once warm liquid rapidly cooling into an icy and uncomfortable sensation on his skin.

Once the bodies were in the rocks, he recovered his hooves and pushed snow over them. He moved to cover the blood patches with snow as well before proceeding back up the slope. “Not perfect, but should buy us time until Tombstone gets back.” The stallion said, turning away from the downslope and starting the trek back up to the top of the ridge where his partner waited. The trek was long, made worse by his lack of rest for the last day watching over the enemy’s movements.

It took some ten minutes for the stallion to make it back to the perch, which he rolled into with a quiet warning.

“Heads up old man.” Sugar grunted, leaning himself against the snowy side of the nest. He took a few moments to huff as he tried to slow his beating heart from his short mountain climb. “Our problem is taken care of. What’s the word on Tombstone?”

“Got a quick call from Stroke. They’re about fifteen minutes from the drop zone for the supplies, so not too long a wait.” Soft said, his eyes still locked down his gunsight. “Your little adventure didn’t trip any alarms, so I think we’re cookin’ with fire.”

Sugar gave a weak cheer as he reached a covered hoof to pull down his scarf from his muzzle. “Lucky us. At least I’ll have enough time to not sound like I’m dying on the radio.” He groaned, picking a hoof full of snow from the snowbank to put in his mouth. The two sat in silence for a few minutes, the sniper keeping track of the Changeling encampment while his partner recovered from his jaunt down the mountain. After a relatively serene five minutes of peace and quiet, the radio began to buzz to life with faint static before a stallion’s voice sounded out faintly out of the earpiece of the hoof set.

“Brightside, Tombstone One. Brightside, Tombstone One. How copy? Over.” The voice over the radio asked quickly, the humming of a plane’s engine audible slightly over the pony and static from the radio.

Sugar pulled himself off the wall and reached for the hoof set, placing it to his ear and responding to the call. “Tombstone One, this is Brightside. Good copy, over.”

“Giant says you’ve got something for us.” The voice responded. “What’s the call, Brightside? Over.”

“Sector November.” The stallion responded, reaching for the map he had previously folded and placed in the snow. “Two five four, six oh one. Jager encampment, company sized detachment with minimal air defense. Two columns of smoke rising. Repeat, November two five four, six oh one. Company sized unit marked by smoke, over.”

“November two five four, six oh one confirm.” Tombstone responded, before falling silent for a moment. “Got it, Brightside. On the way, time to target, nine minutes. Tombstone One out.”

“About Celestia damned time.” Sugar grunted, shifting his body to lie prone in his observation position to the left of the sniper. He picked his binoculars out of the snow and peered back into the camp. The changelings still appeared none the wiser, which brought relief to the pair of ponies. “We’re back to HQ after this one is out, right? Seems to me like it’s been about two weeks.”

“Yup. This makes thirteen days. We’ll make the climb back tonight, and be back to worry over Stroke by lunchtime.” Soft said with a snicker. “Y’all are like, my newest little siblings or something. Number eight and nine.”

“Can’t believe your parents could put up with that many. I was a nightmare when I was a colt.” Sugar responded, his view moving across the camp to search for anyone sounding the alarm. As the two conversed, the drone of aircraft engines began to carry over the wind. The stallion couldn’t resist but smile as he heard the engines, the telltale sign that they’d be holding out one more week. “Sounds kind of light today. Let’s hope Tombstone is on their A game this week.”

“When are they not?” Soft replied, breathing out slowly. “Alright, keep your eyes on them machine gun pits on the east side of the camp. Thirty seconds and I’m gonna drop that officer on the radio. How far is the center of that camp?”

“Five hundred and eleven and some change. You’ve got a bit of a tailwind up here, looks like it drifts off to the southeast downslope.” Sugar said, watching the east side of the camp through his binoculars. The flapping of the canvas tents in the camp gave him some indication of the wind to communicate to his partner. “Ninety seconds until Tombstone is over target. Your window is open.”

“Yup.” Soft replied, going silent afterwards. The stallion’s hoof rested on the trigger and he steadied his breathing into a slow rhythm. Some seconds later, Sugar flinched slightly as his partner’s rifle fired. The sharp noise left a slight ringing in his ears, but the nest went completely silent after the shot for a couple of seconds.

“They definitely heard that. Sentries on the east end are spooked.” Sugar said, scanning the east end of camp as the bugs began to look around frantically for the source of the gunshot they heard in the wind. The sniper’s hoof moved slowly and steadily, cycling the action on his older bolt action rifle.

“Eeyup.” The response was punctuated by another sharp crack of the sniper’s rifle. “Got him this time.” He said after a few moments. “Definitely got their attention. Machine gun pits are the focus. I’m going to keep quiet so they don't lock in on us before the bombs start falling.”

As the sniper finished speaking, the drone of the engines on the wind gradually began to raise into a roar. The radio crackled to life as the roar of engines approached from the north. “Brightside, Tombstone One. Beginning attack, keep your heads down and prepare for BDA, over.”

“Roger Tombstone One.” Sugar responded, one hoof on the hoof set and the other holding the binoculars to his eyes. “We’ll keep their heads down on the MGs. Good hunting. Brightside out.” As the stallion placed the hoof set down beside him, he noticed several changelings running to turn the few mounted machine guns they possessed north. “Hey, I got three bugs in the northeast machine gun pit.”

“Roger. I’ll get on ‘em in just a sec.” Soft said, before his rifle cracked again and he moved to cycle the bolt quickly and firing a second shot. “Watch the west pit. Sent two their way to keep the heads down.” He said, moving to fire at the east pit.

“Right.” Sugar said, swapping his view left to the west pit. One changeling appeared to have been hit by one of the shots, while the other was back on the gun. “Got one on it solo.” He said before his partner’s rifle spit out another shot. As the sniper began to shoot, the roar of engines drowned out the shooting as two aircraft flew over the ridge from behind them. The changelings at the camp began to shoot back at the RAF planes, two streams of green tracers flying into the sky.

As the sniper lowered his weapon down to reload, a hoof snatching a stripper clip from the snow beside him, the planes began to fire back with their machine guns and cannons. Red tracers began to tear through tents and snow, kicking up clouds of debris as changelings began to run out from the tents as they used their small arms to fire at the planes in a desperate attempt to stop the inevitable. Some seconds later, fire lit up from beneath the wings of the aircraft as rockets were sent screaming into the changeling camp. Smoke and fire scattered about the tents as explosions tore through the snow and scattered bugs, equipment and fire.

After a mere ten seconds the planes began to pull up out of the attack, but not without letting loose the two quarter ton bombs that were slung under their plane. The planes turned sharply up and to the east away from the sheer faces of Dragon Mountain as the bombs plummeted with a whistle. Sugar dropped his binoculars and covered his ears as the bombs detonated, a shockwave visible as the explosions rippled out from the center of the camp.

“...Tombstone One. I say again, how do we look?” Sugar heard as he uncovered his ears. He snatched up his binoculars with one hoof in a rush and began to survey the camp as he felt around for the radio hoof set.

“One second Tombstone.” He replied as the hoof set came to his head. The camp was in ruins, several changelings still rushing about trying to drag casualties away from the burning tents. Much if not all of the tents and equipment appeared to be destroyed or damaged beyond usefulness, while it seemed almost a third of the visible bugs were casualties. “Tombstone, good hits. Enemy camp destroyed. Estimate sixty casualties. Good work. Over.”

“Roger that Brightside. Watch yourselves, snow on the face west of your position looked like it was knocked loose from the detonations. Careful for avalanches if you stick around. Tombstone One out.” The pilot replied, the sound of engines fading as the pilots made for home.

“Pack up, Sugar. We’re getting out of here while they ain’t organized enough to chase us.” Soft said, pushing himself up so he could turn around to begin collecting his saddlebags. “Make sure you got everything secured. This climb is gonna be a bitch with snow coming in tonight.” As he began to secure his gear, he pulled a small tube from one of the pockets and turned to Sugar. “Here, take one. Ain’t good, but you’re tired as a dog and you gotta make it through this climb.” The older pony tossed the tube to his partner before he began to pull up his hood and fix his goggles over his eyes.

Sugar caught the tube, labeled Benzedrine, and sighed. “Better than taking a long fall.” He said, popping one of the tablets into his mouth and swallowing it quickly. The stallion really wished deep down he could just fly back, but between the strong winds in the mountains and his rather… Conspicuous green coloration in the alpine snow, it would be too dangerous to both his own health and the secrecy of their positions to do so. “First hour is going to suck, but this will keep me going.” He said, slinging the saddlebag radio over his flanks and securing them tightly to his uniform’s webbing.

“I’ll take the lead today.” Soft said, retrieving a set of spiked shoes to fit over the boots on his hind hooves along with a pair of ice axes that he clipped to his webbing at his chest. “Once we get to the worst of the climb, you’ll tie onto me and we’ll get through it. Visibility is gonna be right awful once the darkness and snow roll in so be ready to stick close.” The stallion finished by slinging his rifle across his back and pulling his own scarf over his muzzle.

Sugar stood, his equipment secured to his webbing and a bundle of rope secured on his back for easy access when they needed it. The tired pony hazarded one more look over the snow bank towards the changeling camp to be sure they would be able to leave without being caught. It appeared that chaos was still reigning there, with casualties being gathered and bugs frantically gathering up supplies. “Looks like they may head back down. We should move while it’s still wild down there.” He said, moving his scarf back up over his face and slinging his weapon over his back.

The pair of ponies nodded to each other, before climbing over the back of their hiding place and heading up the slope of the mountain towards the northwest.

From the Journal of Soft Landing: November 04, 1015

I lost Inferno today. We were out on a raid down on the south face, had just gotten ourselves out of dodge before the bugs could tail us back up the mountain. Inferno was tied off to me, Stroke was with Sugar. Snowstorm had moved in during the early afternoon, which had been a blessing to cover our escape.

Funny thing about blessings. Sometimes, they end up as a curse too.

The wind had been picking up steadily all day. We were trying to make it to Fire Base Griffon before nightfall so we didn’t run the risk of freezing to death in the dark. On the climb up the rock face about two hundred meters below the base, wind caught Inferno and blew her off the wall. I kept a death grip on my holds in the wall, but the line caught a jagged rock and the piece of shit rope gave out.

Told Sugar and Stroke to keep on moving up. I went back and brought her with me back up to Griffon. I’ll bury her tomorrow if I can, or do the best I can.

Sugar and Stroke were beat up. Sent them to the barracks while I stayed up with the OP making sure we didn’t get followed. I’m in charge of the squad, and after five months of this frigid hellscape we’re a family trying to survive together. I failed them today, I was supposed to protect them all and I let Inferno slip through.

I should have checked those fucking lines. Really, I should have just fucking gone alone. I can’t risk losing any of them. I fucking wish I could go back and make Inferno stay in this fucking bunker.

They said it’s bad luck. I know they’re trying to make me feel better about it, but it’s not bad fucking luck. It’s my job to protect them and I failed.

I think that’s all I’ve got in me for today. As I finish up, I’m making a promise to myself.

I’ll get Sugar and Stroke through this, no matter what. If I don’t make it, you’re going to have to give this to the kids Stormy. They’ll understand why I had to break my promise to them.

Sorry guys, but I’ve got a bad feeling about that one.

“Fuck!” Sugar grunted, steadying himself as he planted his hind hoof back on solid ice while he looked down to watch the hold he’d tried to step on collapse away down the steep slope of the mountainside. The wind howled in his ears as he picked his head up to look forward, his view of the pony he was roped to ahead of him obscured by the dim light of the early evening as well as a constant stream of snow pouring out of the sky.

“You good!?” The lead pony called back, leaning off the wall slightly while anchored to the ice wall with a climbing axe. The slope they were climbing up wasn’t a sheer cliff face, but the incline of the glacial ice wall was steep enough that they needed to climb carefully or risk falling down.

“Yeah! Fucking snow looked like ice!” Sugar shouted back, kicking his hind hoof into the ice once more so that his spiked boots could catch. “We’re good! Keep going!” He yelled, willing his body forward up the mountain again.

In reality, this climb shouldn’t have been as hard as it was. Hopped up on drugs as he was, Sugar felt he had the energy to make this climb twice over on a normal day. The snowstorm was brutalizing both ponies, making the climb hard to see and the winds making progress an absolute crawl. Sugar felt himself being sapped of energy as the pair continued, around ten hours into their day long trek.

The pair continued the struggle against the mountain for some two more hours, and as the slope started to level off atop the glacier, the pair sat in some relative shelter underneath a rock wall that stopped the worst of the wind and snow. As the pair sat for a moment, Sugar pulled down his scarf so he could breathe easier. While Sugar panted in exhaustion, Soft struggled to free his canteen from within his heavy winter clothing. Eventually, the container came free and before he took a sip he offered it to his partner.

“Drink up, corporal. You ain’t gonna make it sounding like that.” He said, sitting down beside the other stallion and sighing. The older pony was quite tired as well, but was confident that he’d be able to make it back just fine.

“Fuck you. Don’t do that.” Sugar responded, declining the canteen and fishing around in his own jacket for his own. “I know you’re my superior Lieutenant, but I don’t need you to treat me like your kid. You need it just as much as I do.” The green pony said with a roll of his eyes at mention of the rank, before taking a sip of water from his canteen.

Soft sighed, pushing his goggles up his head so he could wipe his eyes before he drank from his own canteen. “Alright. I just worry for you. Stroke too.” He said wistfully. “I know y’all don’t like it, but I can’t help it.”

“I know, it’s your job. Just… Take care of yourself too.” Sugar responded with a sigh. “Easy part’s over now. Snowfall will obscure our crossing over the glacier onto Dragon Mountain again, but I’m worried we may step on a bug patrol if we’re not careful in these conditions. Got any plans for that?”

“Well, you’ve got that fancy gun.” Soft motioned to the weapon on Sugar’s back as he spoke. “With this wind ain’t nobody else gonna hear if we open up. Really it’s just shock ‘n awe for this one. Worst case if we stumble into one, these climbing axes are pretty good at punchin’ through their shell.” The earth pony took another sip of water before stashing the canteen back inside his coat. “But really, I ain’t thinking too much about it. Don’t wanna tempt fate.”

The two sat in silence, resting for what they could as the light continued to fade with the sun completely shrouded by the mountains to the west. Eventually, Soft put his goggles back over his eyes and pulled his scarf up. Sugar followed suit, and soon the two were standing and inspecting their gear. Sugar unslung his submachine gun from his back, shifting it so it was prepared in front of him in case they needed it.

“Worst part, then we’re on the home stretch. Let’s keep it together and then we can have a little celebration when we meet Stroke at HQ.” Soft said, checking the clips that had them tethered together as he let out the line to give them more distance between each other. “We’re gonna stay clipped. Not ideal, but with visibility shot we gotta stick together. Just keep track of the line, and we’ll be sittin’ pretty. Are you ready Sugar?”

“Ready as ready is going to get.” The younger pony responded, checking where he was attached to the line. “After you, old man.”

Soft nodded, turning around and heading out of their temporary shelter back into the ripping wind and snowfall. Sugar took a deep breath, steeling himself for the journey over flat glacial terrain to the sheer rock faces of Dragon Mountain, before stepping into the darkness of the raging storm.

Chapter Two: Spread Thin

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Chapter Two: Spread Thin

From the Journal of Maple Sugar: 05 May 1012

Just got to my unit assignment, and I have to say that it’s been the single most terrifying experience of my life.

I guess to clear things up if somepony that isn’t me reads this in the future: I volunteered for service, so I was assigned to a special unit. Apparently volunteers are such a minority that they get pushed into the ‘special’ assignments first. The unit I was assigned to is 3rd Battalion, 4th Mountain Regiment. Part of the Mountaineers’ Corps.

On to the terrifying part. I met them at Mead Lake after the retreat from Tall Tale, and the unit was absolutely decimated. The ponies looked utterly exhausted. They were missing gear and many of them didn’t pay mind to us new recruits that were set to replace the ponies who they’d lost.

On a positive note, I was kept on a team with two of the ponies I met in mountaineering training in Canterlot.

Masterful Stroke is an artist from Baltimare. She volunteered because of the offered hazard pay for volunteers to these special units. Incentive to go to dangerous assignments and what not. She had some debt from her art schooling days she wanted to pay off, and since it was either volunteer or wait to get conscripted, she said she’d rather just take the risk than live in squalor and fear of the war finding her.

She was pretty dour at the start of training. She used to be kind of a defeatist, but over the couple months we were in Canterlot I think her confidence went up a bit. She’s a pretty good climber, better than I am for sure, but she’s small and can’t shoot too well.

The other pony I know on my team is Spirited Inferno. She’s always been basically the opposite of how Stroke started out. Quite the energetic and optimistic one, who volunteered because she was feeling patriotic and wanted to win the war against the ‘evil bugs’. She came from Canterlot, so I think she’s had a dislike of them ever since the first invasion when she was a filly. She’s a much better shot than Stroke, but I dare say she’s going to have to be attached at the hip to somepony when she’s climbing. Still, a very pleasant mare.

I didn’t know much about our team leader when we got here. We’d been told his name was Warrant Officer First Class Soft Landing. Old school soldier from even before the first Changeling invasion of Canterlot all those years ago. Apparently he’s one of the better known climbers in the Corps, so he sounds like the rather… Ideal soldier in the context of a mountaineer.

We met him, and he’s… Not what I expected. First thing, he definitely sounded more intimidating than he looks. He’s short, almost a full head shorter than me standing at about the height of Inferno. He sounds like what city ponies like us imagine when they hear about a country farm pony, especially the accent. Comes from a large family in southern Equestria, with a twin sister and eight younger siblings. Enlisted at sixteen almost twenty years ago since the pay of a Royal Guard back in the day was better than a farmhoof.

He’s also… Well, we knew he was pretty old, but come to find out he looks closer to my dad’s age than mine. He’s got some grey coming into his mane, though I’d bet it’s from the stress of fighting less than his age. He was really nice to us too, brought the three of us into the tent he’d been occupying alone and told us to make ourselves at home. We introduced ourselves to him, and him to us, and then he just started going on like we’d always been there.

All in all, today has been a mixed bag for our first day. There’s the omnipresent dread that we’ll have to fight the Changelings soon, but I definitely expected our team leader to be much scarier and harsher than he was.

I guess we’ll see how it pans out. We were just told that we’ll be moving off to dig into the pass between the Ruby Mountains and Twilight Range. Changelings are rolling into the heartland apparently, so we have to make sure they don’t come spilling through the mountains too.

09 December, 1015

After twenty minutes of trekking through the snowstorm atop the rocky glacial slope of Dragon Mountain, the pair of ponies spotted their first sign of life on the slope. Soft stopped Sugar, and motioned for him to stay low to the ground as he motioned to a dim light moving in the darkness somewhat closeby. The sniper motioned to his partner that he should stay put, tapping the younger pony’s weapon to indicate that he should be ready for anything.

Sugar dropped to his belly, raising his weapon to track the movements of the light while his friend set off into the storm. The white clad pony began to fade from view quickly as he got deeper into the snowstorm. The only signs of where he’d gone were some rapidly fading hoof prints in the shallow powder and the line that tethered the pair that he could follow if worse came to worst.

Visibility was shot. What would normally be a relatively wide open space on the side of the mountain hemmed in by dark rock formations was now a small bubble of stark white surroundings that ended not with the defined barriers of the mountain but instead the dark uncertainty of the night.

After a few seconds of futilely trying to track the line as it moved in the snow, the light began to behave erratically before it disappeared entirely a moment later. About a minute later, Sugar noticed Soft coming out of the snowstorm. The smaller pony had a streak of green blood smeared across his right sleeve where he had likely stomped the bug to death.

Soft took a moment to wind in some of the tether onto his belt while Sugar stood back up from the snow. After a quick check of their equipment, the two set off once more. It had become somewhat routine to sneak through the enemy’s lines in the night like this, which was made much easier by the heavy weather that made visibility nearly zero.

The pair of ponies proceeded, and after a couple hundred meters of harrowingly slow progress through the relatively even ground of the snow-blanketed ice sheet they found themselves pressed up against a jagged outcropping of rocks. The particular set of rocks appeared to hang over them slightly and give them slight reprieve from the worst of the wind and snowfall.

After creeping to the edge of the rocks somewhat downslope, Soft peeked around the corner into a much more open tract of land. The older pony moved back into cover after he had surveyed the area, leaning over just beside Sugar’s face to speak over the weather. “Alright, the worst part is coming Sugar. Can’t see nothin’ out there, so we’re going to have to be ready for a scrap.”

Soft referred to the tract of land that made up the Changelings’ most used path up onto this glacial flat. It was the gentlest slope in the gap that bridged Dragon Mountain and Serpents’ Summit to the southwest. It was the Changelings’ preferred ascent because it was perfect for hauling heavier equipment to their trenches as well as being in defilade from the Equestrian guns at Fire Base Griffon higher on the mountain.

Sugar nodded in response to the officer before following the earth pony back into the storm as they did their best to hurry across the open ground. Sugar’s head scanned quickly across their surroundings, not spotting the faintest trace of light sources on the slope that would normally indicate patrols or troops moving up the slope. They were probably delaying movement until the weather subsided, which Sugar decided was well enough since it made this already awful traverse somewhat less stressful.

The pair moved as quickly as the snow and their tired bodies would allow. Sugar’s heart hammered in his chest as they ran, and after he began to feel as though they were making good progress he was yanked to a halt by Soft. The older pony frantically motioned for him to get down into the snow as Sugar’s eyes caught sight of what his partner had noticed.

Through the storm, a flickering light was beginning to become visible through the darkness. It was rapidly followed by more lights as the pegasus ducked into the snow with his partner. The snow here was only a couple dozen centimeters deep, which was enough to give reasonable cover but not nearly enough to cover their entire forms. Sugar’s goggles-covered eyes peeked out from the snow to track the lights as they began to come closer and closer.

The pony’s heart hammered in his ears as the lights began to get near enough to make out the uniformed figures of Changelings trudging through the snow. The dark uniforms of the Changelings were quite good at making them hard to see in the night, though their white helmets caught the light of the lanterns that they carried quite well. Sugar struggled to stave off the unavoidable feeling of creeping panic he felt approaching, the fact that he didn’t have his weapon ready for a fight not helping matters much.

Just as it seemed as though the bugs might get close enough to step on the ponies, the leader turned them back in the other direction to avoid the steeper parts of the slope. Sugar’s body began to shake as the bugs turned away without noticing at all, but he didn’t move a muscle as the bugs’ light faded into the darkness once more.

It was some ten minutes before Soft gave a tug on the line, indicating that the two should carry on once more. Neither stallion dared speak for the moment, the fear of the moment gone and both eager to get as far away from that particular spot as quickly as possible.

Translated From the Post-War Interview of Nepidae About His Time in the Ruby Mountains: 05 January 1044

Interviewer: “You were a part of the Fifth Mountain Division during your service, correct?”

Nepidae: “That is correct. I served with the Mountaineers from the end of 1014 until the end of the war.”

Interviewer: “This means that you were present for the Ruby Mountains campaign then. Is there anything you can tell us about this part of the war?”

Nepidae: “I distinctly remember that the first year was brutal, just like on the ground everywhere else. As we pushed the ponies up the slopes of the mountains, things began to go wrong almost immediately. Our lack of high ground meant we could be bombarded with impunity, so we suffered greatly getting onto the slopes. We were attacking the north face at this point, which was the most heavily defended approach to the mountain.

“That campaign was much less… Urgent. We fought for a year in the mountains in a frozen imitation of our brothers and sisters on the trench lines in the Equestrian heartland. When 1014 rolled around, they had the infantry take our places on the line and moved us to the west to take part in the offensive. We didn’t actively fight until we reached the foothills of the Ruby Mountains. Then, it was all about capturing the railroad bridges that connected our main army group and the south. Of course, by the time we’d fought our way there, they’d been smashed to pieces.

“The 24th and 39th Divisions handled the lower elevations, but were similarly not able to capture the rail tunnel we needed before it was destroyed. I was part of the group who had to dislodge the ponies from the mountains. We hoped we may be able to be done with the campaign before winter, but they had prepared their defenses well. We struggled for territory, and managed to capture a couple of the lower summits before October. All in all it was just like the rest of the war, just uphill.”

Interviewer: “That is when winter sets in at the higher elevations. Could you tell me what the fighting that winter was like?”

Nepidae: “I… Would rather not talk much about the personal aspects of it, but it was horrible. Most of the time we were trying not to freeze to death. Every night spent living in constant fear that a pony might sneak into your trench and stab you to death in your sleep.

“We went up there and tried to fight the war like an army. They were like savage beasts, willing to do anything to survive. There was a constant paranoia that one might be watching you no matter where you were. I recall one night, there was a bad storm. I was on patrol with my best friend, we were split up when I split from our route to check for a noise I thought I heard on the wind.

“When I came back, he was gone. His head smashed in by a tool when I was less than a dozen meters away. Never saw a hint of the pony who did it except a couple of hoof prints that got blown over in snow in minutes.

“It’s strange. Changelings are the ones who are supposed to be able to hide in plain sight. It’s our natural advantage, to blend in with the ponies and not have them notice a thing. It was frankly terrifying to have those tables turned on us, and have them show us absolutely no mercy. We grew up being told the ponies were pushovers not meant for war. That couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Most ‘lings developed a distinct sense of fatalism up there. All of us knew we were there only to die, and we were simply counting the days until our name was drawn from the hat. I distinctly remember feeling so empty during those times, not knowing any meaning to life but to die meaninglessly on some frozen rock in a place I didn’t care about. My best friend died, and I didn’t properly process that until well after I’d been captured.

“That’s all I really care to say about the fighting there.”

Interviewer: “Thank you so much, Nepidae. Your insights paint quite a darker picture of the conflict than we’ve heard before. Now, if you’re still willing, I’d like to move on to life as a prisoner of war…”

Once the war was over, Nepidae decided he'd be moving as far away from snow as possible. While snow wasn’t by any means an unusual occurrence back home in the hive of Gorak. Although a small hive, its position at the foot of the towering mountains of the Whitehooves meant that many a Changeling from Gorak was conscripted into the mountain battalions of the Alpenjager during the leadup to the Olenian War.

Nepidae was among the drones that had been conscripted and taught to fight in the mountains. His home was a frigid wasteland, but nothing compared to the hellscape that found its way to these towering peaks in central Equestria. During training the Whitehooves exposed him to high elevation, but they’d have never been able to prepare him for the nightmare that was the Equestrian weather.

At home, the weather was mostly a wild thing. Sure, there were little bits and pieces of magic that came from the hives but there was no fine control like in Equestria. If there was one thing that no amount of training the officers back in Vesalipolis cooked up before the war could emulate, it was the absolutely terrific weather events that occurred in Equestria when the pegasi didn’t have control.

Some of the drones were even talking of rumors that Equestria was throwing these storms at us intentionally, but certainly the ponies that Changelings had been told about all through the years wouldn’t dare to subject their own to something this cruel, right..? Then again, all the drones had been led to believe that the pony was a weak creature with no willpower to fight a war. They are soft creatures, ones who only know friendship and happiness and would crumble under the immense shock and terror of the Changeling invasion.

Yet now… Nepidae could think about nothing other than how fake it all was. How foolish they’d been to think that after Olenia, this war was a foregone conclusion. The ponies… They weren’t anything like what they’d been told. Certainly the first few months had seemed to prove the Queen’s words prophetic. The army made staggering gains, capturing Tall Tale before winter being the crowning achievement of 1011. Yet the next year, the war ground down to be a little slower, but the ‘lings still held out hope glorious victory was but a skip away.

Yet the ponies never gave up. With every day that passed, it seemed Nepidae was faced not by the caricatured creatures sold to him on propaganda reels and magazines. In the mountains of Equestria he was faced by savage beasts, no better than wild predators. Creatures who lurked just out of sight and longed for the moment that their prey let their guard down.

Two years now he’d been in the mountains, pushing ever steadily forward through the Equestrian defenses. The Unicorn Mountains had been a laughable excuse of an operation, with the disorganized ponies breaking in short order under the early offensive. There had only been mere glimpses of the monsters that would reveal themselves, but Nepidae recalled an encounter with a tan pony in the foothills outside of Woodsville during the Tall Tale Campaign. That pony had cut down several of his squad as they patrolled the forest before smashing Nep himself over the head and disappearing into the night.

Then he’d been full of fear, and when he awoke he’d been full of a mixture of terror and sorrow. He’d tried his best to bring his dying comrades back to their lines to get treated, but it was futile. He’d been hardly able to keep himself together at that time as he tried in vein to salvage some good from the situation.

That encounter was a bit reminiscent of where Nepidae stood now, looking over the body of his best friend, the only sign of the one who’d done it a few rapidly fading hoofprints in the snow.

As Meridia bled into the snow atop the glacial ice cap on the hellscape that bore the name Dragon Mountain, Nep stared down at the body. The chitin of the dead ‘ling’s head smashed in by a pony’s hoof. Nep wondered why he wasn’t shedding a tear at the sight before him, why he felt completely empty at the sight of Meridia simply gone mere minutes after having a friendly chat about their upcoming rotation off the ice caps.

Nep had stepped away for less than ten minutes to investigate a slope they’d thought the ponies might be using to sneak through the lines in the night. They’d split up so Meridia could check further down the slope, since visibility was so poor. They’d shared a laugh as they split, the thought of a warm night in the foothills so close bringing some measure of happiness to the joyless existence on the mountain.

Now, there was nothing. Not a single tangible feeling that Nepidae could find within him. After two absolutely brutal years of fighting in these Ruby Mountains for such little gain, he couldn’t find anything other than a sigh. During these years, countless friends, acquaintances and comrades had been mercilessly eaten alive by the indescribably inhospitable battlefields of the mountains. Now, after so long and so many dead, even Meridia’s death seemed like just another name on the list for Nep. A list that was rapidly approaching his own name.

That was probably the biggest tragedy of this entire ordeal to Nepidae. It felt like he was losing his connection to existence as a whole, unable to feel, unable to experience anything of meaning in life. They came here for glory, and all they’d received was meaningless death for absolutely no gain. Suffering for the sake of suffering, with no end in sight. The only thing to keep them company in this frigid wasteland are apex predators who wish nothing more than the complete eradication of Changeling kind.

Faced with all that, what meaning was there to life, but death?

From the Journal of Maple Sugar: November 05, 1015

We buried Inferno today as best we could in the snow outside. We’re all still torn up over losing her yesterday, but Soft is taking it exceptionally badly. Guy geared up this morning immediately after we said our goodbyes, ready to take off to the mountaintop without saying a word to us. We managed to set him straight and get him to wait for us before setting off from FB Griffon.

Fucked up part is that we’re not even close to done with this climb. I’m writing this from our midpoint camp, 3,684 meters above sea level. Tomorrow, we’ll finish the climb up to OP Zebra. It’s only around four hundred meters up from here, but it’s the worst climb on the mountain. I’ll be leading tomorrow, Soft is too shaken up from Inferno to put him on the lead. We’ll have to fight him over whether he should climb alone, but if we managed to get through to him today we’ll be fine.

I’m worried about him. We’re all taking it hard, she was a sister to us, but he can’t get over that it happened while she was tethered to him. To him, he let one of his little siblings die on his watch. It’s tragic that it happened to her, but it’s bad luck. We’re at war, stuck in a frozen shithole with just enough shitty supplies to survive, and he still thinks he can control everything to protect us.

Stroke and I have decided to look out for him too. Not that he’ll make it easy for us.

10 December, 1015

As midnight came and passed on the slopes of Dragon Mountain, Maple Sugar had decided that he may not ever want to experience the “Lil’ Granny” route, affectionately nicknamed by Soft for the route up to the summit of Little Granite Top that would allow them to cross a narrow ridge over to Dragon Mountain’s south face shoulder where firebase Griffon had been constructed.

Soft had told him prior to setting off on this expedition that this was the shortest route he’d found to get down from summit to the Serpents’ Gap ever since the Changelings had put guns watching the old “Big Eastern” route that they'd used earlier in the winter.

The route coming down had been decidedly easy, he’d decided some two weeks ago when they’d descended from their base at some 3,300 meters down to a more manageable altitude of 2,000 meters. It consisted mostly of just some easier rappelling down the face that didn’t seem too bad when they did it two weeks ago. Of course, Sugar wasn’t completely exhausted then, and in the darkness he didn’t get a good look back at what they’d be climbing up.

Sugar fell over onto his side in exhaustion as Soft dragged him up over the ledge of the wall onto the top of the Little Granite Top’s highest wall. The snow on the ground made quite the comfortable makeshift bed, the pegasus decided as his bare face pressed into the cold surface.. As he lay down, he kept his eyes affixed out over the beautiful early morning scenery from the 3,100 meter elevation that he and his partner now occupied. His gaze wandered out onto the horizon, where the clouds from last night’s storm carried over the Changeling occupied territories. The wind still howled as it blew up the wall and over the two ponies as they rested at the top of the climb.

The storm had passed by the mountain in the pre-dawn hours, making their ascent on the wall possible during the dim hours before sunrise. As the clouds had faded from view, a bright moonlight illuminated the wall and for a fleeting moment he imagined the frozen hellscape they occupied as beautiful. The moonlight reflected off of the icy surfaces on the wall to make the rock wall look as though it was covered in the most precious of crystals.

He almost felt as though he might get trapped into thinking the same thing as he looked down over the mountainous terrain below them. Spread far and wide were shining blankets of snow and ice penetrated by jagged dark rocks, carving intricate patterns through the white scenery below. Smaller peaks crowded around their high perch, spread around like a protective barrier that promised to protect them from the Changeling menace. Sugar sighed longingly as he saw the faintest sight of Ponydale in the distance, small tufts of smoke curling up from a cluster of trees far beyond the towering giants that were the east end of the Ruby Mountains.

Behind him, Sugar could hear the telltale scraping of Soft’s crampons tearing through the ice and grinding on stone as he pulled in their ropes and equipment and packed them away into his saddlebags, thankfully lightened as they consumed supplies during their excursion. Sugar could faintly hear the earth pony muttering to himself over his own labored breathing. Sugar groaned and turned away from the view, carefully pushing himself to his hooves and away from the edge of the rock face.

“How far is the rest camp from here? We’ve got another couple kilometers until we get to the summit, right?” Soft asked tiredly before shaking the loose snow that had blown onto his body back to where it belonged.

Soft continued his task of wrapping ropes and equipment back up into neat bundles that were easily stored away, closing up his saddlebags as he made to respond to Sugar. “It’s probably about two hundred meters further. Just gotta get around one last ledge to get there. After that, it’s a straight shot across the ridge to get over to the shoulder.” He said, securing his bags and latching them tightly. “I left a pair of carabiners on your harness for the ledge. It’s pretty sketchy, but I have protection set to clip onto it.”

Sugar was more than a bit relieved that there would be solid protection for this section of the traverse, since his body was rapidly beginning to understand how terribly exhausting almost two days of constant exertion was. “Sounds good.” Sugar panted out, hoof making its way to his jacket so he could fish around for his water. “Couldn’t come any sooner. I might actually pass out soon.”

Soft looked over with concern through his goggles, before he slung his saddlebags over his back once more and nodded. “Then let’s get you over there. It ain’t the best, but it’s out of the wind so you can get some rest there.”

Sugar nodded, and the two set out to the northeast uphill towards the summit of Little Granite Top. The sunrise was just peeking between the peaks of the Twilight Range to the east, prompting Sugar to pull his dark tinted goggles over his eyes once more to gaze out across the pass.

The Twilight range was much lower than the towering peaks of the Ruby Mountains and especially Dragon Mountain. The peaks weren’t permanently frigid as those of their western sisters, so the dormant husks of trees could be seen scattered about some of the relatively high elevations.

The lower elevations were both a blessing and a curse for the ponies fighting across the pass. In the autumn months Sugar had found himself briefly envious of the warmer temperatures, though he had quickly found that envy burned away when he witnessed the volume of artillery fire that rained down on the defensive positions on the slope. The extreme altitude of Dragon Mountain and her sister peaks made the Equestrian positions at altitude much more secure, as the Changelings could not easily draw heavier guns into range to counter the Equestrian batteries.

On the lower peaks, this was not as much of a problem. Larger volumes of heavy artillery could be drawn well within range of the peaks, and some of the bigger Changeling guns could even reach out to the peaks from beyond the smaller Equestrian guns’ ability to respond from the smaller mountains.

“Do you think they’re doing alright over there, Soft?” Sugar asked, raising his voice to speak over the wind.

“I gotta imagine it’s just like here. Ain’t a good time, but they’re holdin’ out if the artillery strikes over the last week are any indication.” The older pony said, his own head turning to look over the pass. “I heard that they was havin’ problems with avalanches because of the artillery. Lot worse than we’ve got over here. I feel for ‘em.”

“Me too. Just hope they’re keeping going better than we are.” Sugar said dismally. Things were getting close to going from bad to worse atop Dragon Mountain, and as much as he might wish their comrades across the way had it better, that was unlikely. In the last six months all the defenders had been hammered down by the Changelings, with all the defenders pushed back into the mountains. They’d blown up the railroad through the lower mountains as they’d retreated, demolishing the long bridges that weaved through the pass and collapsing several tunnels. Though they no longer had their hooves on the railroad directly, with artillery batteries and observation posts overlooking the pass, they could effectively coordinate raids and strikes on any attempts to build up replacement rails.

Holding in the mountains had proven to be even more brutal than holding the trenches and forts of the lower elevations. Though the terrain was much more treacherous and heavy equipment was effectively non-existent, the Changelings didn’t let that stop them from keeping up their brutal offensives. The cold also proved to be an extreme obstacle to survival as well, with numerous ponies falling victim to disease and hypothermia.

“We got the ledge comin’ up, watch your step. Keep an eye out for loose stone.” Soft said, breaking Sugar out of his rather depressing chain of thought. The two ponies had moved from ice and snow underhoof to much more solid stone during his musings.

While the stone seemed more sturdy than the ice of much of the rest of the mountain, it could be deceptive. Rock was still liable to fall away underhoof, and Sugar wouldn’t make the mistake of assuming it safe.

The two ponies continued along the rocks, the walkable ledge narrowing out severely as they continued. Soft stopped walking as the ledge narrowed out to barely wide enough for a pony to walk properly, using a hoof to take one of his two safety lines attached to his harness and clip it onto a rope that had been hammered into the wall with pitons.

“Hook up Sugar. I better not see you without a clip on the line until I pull you off the ledge.” The older pony said firmly as Sugar pulled one of the carabiners attached to his harness and secured it to the safety line.

“I got it old man, let’s get this show on the road.” He sniped back, taking his first step onto the narrow ledge to follow his partner. The feeling of walking on the ledge was terrifying, even after spending months at high altitudes hanging from walls and icy slopes. The feeling of hanging over a cliff edge without the ability to use his wings being something straight out of the worst nightmare of any pegasus. Especially because unlike climbing, looking down was just so easy.

As if to prove the point to himself, Sugar’s eyes looked to his right. His view plummeted straight down towards the steep slope that spread out beneath them. The stallion’s body shivered in fear at the feeling of leaning slightly towards a near thousand meter fall as his body pressed into the stone on his left. The stallion’s eyes fixated on the stones that dotted the mountainside below, their jagged faces dusted with snow to make them appear as some form of dark and terrifying teeth of a predator waiting to swallow him up.

A voice snapped Sugar out of his terrified staring. “Hey, eyes up. Look at me Sugar. You need to keep movin’, the faster you get over here, the faster it’ll be over.” Soft called out from the other end of the ledge. It was probably a mere twenty meters further, but the pegasus had frozen in terror some halfway across. “Come on kid, you’re fine. You got it, just one hoof in front of the other. Ain’t nothin’ to it.”

“S-Shit…” Sugar muttered, his eyes lifting up from the drop to the pony standing ahead of him. “Sorry, got a bit… C-Caught up.” He stuttered, his shaking legs forcing themselves to take a step forward. As his legs shook like leaves in the wind, he flinched as he made his first step. Despite being uneasy about what he was walking on, he continued forward slowly. After a few minutes of slow progress, and even slower transfers of his safety clips around the pitons that held the rope to the wall, he set hoof on the wider stone ground on the other side.

“I should’ve stuck closer. Sorry.” Soft said, pulling Sugar gently away from the ledge and unclipping him from the safety rope. “I forgot that the heights are worse for y’all when you can’t use your wings.” The shorter pony wrapped his coated hooves around Sugar in a brief hug, before letting him go and stepping back.

“Yeah. Thanks. Sorry, I know I shouldn’t do that. My head’s just… Not in the right place.” Sugar said slowly, stepping further from the ledge as the rock wall to his left fell away into a still steep but more gentle slope upwards. The trembling started to subside after a moment, and Sugar took a deep breath. “Not a great morning, huh? Let’s get to that camp before I really do lose it.” He said, trying to lighten the mood as Soft followed up beside him.

“Yeah. Camp’s just around the corner here, got a lil’ tent and everything to get us out of the wind for a bit.” Soft said, nudging his partner in the direction of the camp.

From the Journal of Soft Landing: 10 December, 1015

I screwed up royally today. Well, really the last few days.

I’m writing this from the Little Granny camp, Sugar’s sleeping beside me.

First thing, I let him go for almost a full two days straight during our ascent window. I didn’t time the watches right around the RAF flight window and he had to keep it going. Second thing, I fed him one of those Celestia forsaken tablets to keep him going. I know they’ve dropped them for us because they’re a last resort for energy, but damn it I don’t want to feed the kids any of that stuff.

Of course, worst thing I did was let him stay on that ledge alone. He and Stroke have been doing so well that I forgot that pegasi can get like that. As exhausted as he was, it’s no wonder panic set in like that.

If I don’t fix myself, I’m going to get them all killed. I don’t know how I’ve managed a third slip in the last month, but I can count myself lucky on this one. He’s alright, fast asleep next to me.

It’s hard not to keep treating them like my kids, especially Sugar. Kid needs the support after growing up the way he did, growing up the way he did. We’re fighting a war, but I really want to make it sure the kids make it.

Deep down I know I’m doing the wrong thing worrying about that. As a soldier anyways. As a pony, and as their friend I owe it to them to help them get through. Even if they don’t appreciate it. I really want them to be able to meet y’all sometime, I think you’d get along like peas and carrots.

Anyways, I guess I should probably say something a bit more cheerful here since it’ll be my only entry for a while.

The mission down the south face went well. Didn’t get caught, strike coordination went without a hitch. We didn’t do much proper raiding this time around, but I heard Snowbell’s team was out to raid the Changeling forward command center this week. Hopefully they had some good hunting and we can get our hooves on some coffee or something else warm soon. For all that I love the RAF, they don’t really deliver us the tastiest treats. Remember that well if any of y’all decide to marry a military pony, the Royal Navy’s got the best food.

Anyhow, high time I get going. Love y’all to bits.

Your Older Brother,
Soft Landing

Sugar had woken up from his, as Soft called it, ‘dirt nap’ right about when the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky. They pair had taken the time to enjoy the view of the sun creeping down behind the lower peaks of the Ruby Mountains to the west before they’d slung all their gear onto their backs and began the walk back to Firebase Griffon.

The walk was, at least compared to the last couple days, relatively peaceful. A hop, skip and jump across the narrow ridge that connected the summit of Little Granite Top to the southern shoulder of Dragon Mountain. Soft was relatively subdued as he led the trek across the ridge, but Sugar was feeling rather fresh after a decent rest. This prompted the younger stallion to spend much of the trek stargazing at the clear sky. The moon was bright in the sky, which drowned out the stars just a little bit, but even so the stars were as pretty as he’d ever seen them.

All in all, the trek was mostly uneventful. Sugar had stolen some glimpses of the ice field below them, where he could still make out some of the Changeling trenches and positions in the moonlight. The sight of the enemy didn’t bring much concern to Sugar this day, the thought of returning to their small fortress in the sky and having a relatively safe couple of days off the line definitely a morale booster after the rather grueling pair of weeks on this most recent infiltration mission.

Some two hours after they’d set off, the pair of stallions finally stepped hoof on the ice and snow that made up Dragon Mountain itself. As they began to ascend the ice and rock formations that clustered at the mountainside, Sugar could see the relatively small plume of smoke that indicated FB Griffon was just within reach.

As the pair approached the top of the short climb to the base, Soft held up a hoof to stop the pair as he fished around in his uniform’s pouches for a flashlight. The pony flipped the light on and off up in the direction of the base four times, then turned it off and waited for a response.

“Bingo!” A voice called from above.

“Bango!” Soft shouted back, stashing the flashlight in a pocket.

“Come on up!” The sentry above called, prompting the two ponies to pop over the rocks and get onto the icy ground above. Sugar’s eyes were met with the sight of the welcoming ice covered concrete wall of the base, along with a machine gun pointed in his general direction from nearby. A unicorn approached the ponies, rifle slung over her back. “Let’s get the check over with so you guys can get warm.” She said, the horn poking through her white helmet glowing a soft yellow.

The two ponies were enveloped in the same yellow glow for a few moments, before it disappeared just as quickly. Sugar looked over at the machine gun as the gunner lowered his guard, and the unicorn nodded to them.

“Welcome home, guys. Take it easy while you can.” She said, motioning them to proceed towards the fort.

“Thank you kindly Goldie, stay safe out here.” Soft said with a nod, before making his way towards a relatively small tunnel entrance cut into the stone beside the machine gun. “Y’all too Breaker.” He said, nodding to the bundled up pony in the gun pit before stepping into the tunnel. Sugar didn’t say anything as he followed, but he nodded to the gunner as he passed into the dimly lit stone tunnel.

“Lieutenant Landing’s team is back. Let them in.” Sugar heard the mare’s voice speak into the telephone set in the gun pit.

Electric lights were sparsely scattered across the walls of the tunnel, their lights long since past their bright days. On the walls, the faint reflection of the light off the iced over surfaces could be seen dancing about, but Sugar paid them no mind as the pair approached a large steel door. As the pair reached the end of the tunnel, the ice that had been growing on the door cracked loudly as the door began to swing open. The dimly lit tunnel was flooded with an invitingly warm light as a shorter grey pegasus stood in the doorway.

Unlike the two heavily dressed stallions at the door, she was dressed instead in the much lighter uniform they’d used in the lower elevations. It was a light brown instead of stark white, and came with only a lighter coat.

“Welcome back guys. Good to see you in one piece.” The mare welcomed them, stepping aside to let the pair enter. Soft shook himself free of snow in the tunnel before stepping in, immediately removing the winter cap from his head and shaking out his mane after having it left in the hat for most of two weeks. The stallion’s bright blue mane was beginning to turn more white than blue to Sugar’s eyes, a sign of how the stress of the war was treating the aging pony.

As Sugar stepped in after shaking the snow off of himself, he followed suit in removing his cap and shaking out his relatively short brown mane. “Good to see you too, Stroke.” Sugar said to the grey pony, reaching up a jacketed hoof to pat the mare on her dark blue mane.

“I gotta go down to the CP for a debrief.” Soft said, undoing his overcoat and draping it around his neck. He looked rather thin to Stroke, who looked to Sugar with some concern. The green stallion shook his head, mouthing ‘later’ to her as the tan pony turned around to head to the command post.

“Don’t wait up for me y’all. Get somethin’ good to eat and catch up, I’ll meet up with y’all sometime later.” The officer said, making his way through the concrete halls of the bunker and rounding a corner out of sight of the other two.

As the older pony disappeared down the corridor, Sugar groaned and leaned against the concrete wall beside him. Stroke made to give him a hug, but the green stallion held up a hoof to keep her away. “I smell like death. At least let me throw some water on myself or something before you touch me.” He said with a chuckle.

Stroke also gave a weak laugh at his attempt to lighten the mood, shaking her head. “Fine, but you owe me.” She said, nodding her head to the side. “Let’s get down to the barracks. You look like you could use some rest. Somepony else did too, though that pony seems to lack a bit of self awareness.” Stroke rolled her eyes as she placed emphasis on the word ‘somepony’, glaring at the hall Soft had walked off down for a moment.

“You know how he’s been lately. I’m sure he’ll catch up with us later and we can tie him to a cot if needs be.” Sugar said with a sigh, standing up straight and making his way towards the stairwell towards the barracks. “So, why don’t you catch me up with what they dropped this time around. Did any good food come in the gifts this week?”

Stroke tilted her head in thought as she began to walk with Sugar, recounting going over the supplies they’d been given by the RAF on their recent supply run. “Well, there’s a lot of canned carrots and oats. Other than that, I think they blessed us with the luxury of some bread…”

From the Journal of Masterful Stroke: December 12, 1015

Soft left again today. He was back for two days, and yet he’s back to work. I swear his hair gets less blue and more white every time I see him. I know I’ve said he’s like the older brother I never had, and I think that extends to how fucking pissed off he’s made me the last month going out and ignoring our concern to take the world on his shoulders.

Sugar and Soft got back from their south face reconnaissance two days ago. Sugar looked ready to die and Soft looks like he aged another decade in the two weeks they were gone. The rotations are getting longer and breaks shorter these days. There’s hardly half of us left, and probably half that can fight anything other than a last stand in the bunkers anymore. Yet here Soft goes, ignoring his time off the rotation to head back out to OP Zenith and go hunting again.

I’m praying every day that this siege is broken soon. I don’t think we can last much longer, despite how much Soft is trying to keep spirits up.

On a brighter note, Sugar is still hanging around and he won’t leave me be. He’s still worried that I’ll make things worse even though I’m on the up and up. Of course, he won’t listen if I tell him I’m fine, but I at least appreciate the sentiment. I would be the same if it were him that got put out, and I know I just spent the last two weeks waiting by the radio for them to call in so I knew they were alright.

Hopefully I’ll be ready to go back out with them soon. I never feel comfortable letting them go it alone, even if they’ve been fine for the last two months.

War on the Shoulders of Giants

by Nova Sunshine

Prologue: Sunstrike

Chapter One: Sky High

Chapter Two: Spread Thin