> War of The Gods
>  by SpikeCrosstie4077
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Taking The Pit
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

March 23rd

"The Pit"

The rattle of gunfire and boom of artillery was but a distant murmur in the city's center.  Even with fire and ash around the air was still a frigid early spring temperature.  Icicles dripped down from the blasted-out window as the sun crept over the eastern horizon, casting the silent downtown area in a fiery orange glow.  Captain William Henry Thatcher let out a frosted breath as he raised his M-212 .470 caliber sniper rifle.  Leaning against the eastern wall of his fourth-floor room he peaked through the powerful scope at the distant command outpost that sat in another six-story building on the other side of two decimated Commie Blocks.  Boom, an artillery shell shook the building as it struck one of the still-standing nearby Commie Blocks.  Thatcher had to act fast, he had two squads below him and if one of those shells got any closer then they'd all be dead.  He closed his left eye, targeting the single open window of the distant building's fourth floor.  All night he had waited since the sun had set and the freeze had arrived until the sun rose and the ice melted.  Boom, a shell landed nearby knocking the loose icicles free.

"Sons of bitches are gonna kill us," Thatcher muttered to himself as he intently watched the window.  Then it happened, right then and there his target, a field officer taking residence there, strode right into his line of sight.  The fat man with maroon skin and black hair in a khaki suit paused just long enough for Thatcher to zero in on him.  He aimed right at the man's skull, a tricky shot for sure but one he was certain he could make.  He clicked the safety switch just above the trigger, and he wrapped his gloved hand firmly around the rifle's polymer grip, his finger hovering just above the trigger.  He drew in a sharp breath and held it in his lungs before finally squeezing the trigger.  With a roaring crack, the pointed bullet exited the chamber and soared its way toward its target. With an almost comical splat, the officer's head exploded into a chunky red mist that sprayed the walls and ceilings of his room.  The man collapsed in a heap on the floor.  "Bullseye..." Thatcher said with a bearded grin, slowly he moved away from the window to avoid being spotted, crawling across the floor and to a nearby staircase that was luckily out of sight.  Stepping on broken glass and rubble he climbed the long staircase down to the ground floor where his men waited inside a smoky and ruined lobby.  Thatcher slung his M-212 across his back, grabbing the ILC-15 Carbine leaning next to the stairwell, a gun resembling the standard FAL-style rifles other troops carried.  Fifteen men stood there, five dressed in the Spec Ops gray uniform and beret rather than the standard forest green fatigues and helmet like the other ten.  Thatcher strode over to the young Lieutenant Howard Sauers, who was handling the field phone, grabbing the handset from his hands. "Colonel," He began "Red Devil's dead, what's the move?" After some indistinct orders through the phone were given he returned it to the Lieutenant "Alright," He said reaching into the pocket of his heavy coat and producing a blue pack of cigarettes "We're gonna hold the fort here 'til the cavalry gets up,"

"Where's the cav?" Spec Ops Lieutenant Bruce Halifax asked.  Thatcher pulled a cigarette from the pack.

"'Bout twenty minutes out," Thatcher pulled out a lighter and sparked the cigarette up in a cloud of smoke that mixed with the frosty air.  He leaned his weapons against the wall and pulled the coat off to reveal his regular Spec Ops fatigues. "It's like a blast furnace in that thing," He said laying it over a handrail and adjusting his beret.  Another boom echoed from outside, sending dust and small bits of rubble cascading downward "If they don't hurry up we'll be buried here," Thatcher blew out a cloud of smoke.  Another boom shook the building violently.  "Fuck it, we're gettin' outta here," Thatcher grabbed his carbine and sniper rifle, electing to leave the coat behind. Thatcher and his men left the building through the rear exit, rushing to hide behind the piles of rubble outside before they could be spotted by lurking enemies.  Thatcher glanced over the chunk of concrete he was laying behind. "Shit," He murmured as he saw five men crossing the mounds of rubble toward them "We got company, five of 'em with rifles," 

"What do we do?" One of the regulars asked quietly.  Thatcher raised his carbine and aimed it at the approaching soldiers.

"We wait and hope to God they don't get here, we start shooting and every guy in that basecamp is gonna start shootin'" Thatcher crushed his cigarette out, keeping his black carbine trained on the men as they poked and dug at the rubble with their bolt actions. 

"Any officers?" A concerned Halifax asked.

"Can't tell, they're all dressed the same... Looks like regs to me,"  The soldiers continued their slow approach to Thatcher's position.

"What do you wanna do?"

"Stay here and hope to God they don't find us till the cav gets here," Thatcher continued to observe them, they seemingly had no idea that his men were hiding less than three hundred feet away.  That was until one of them locked eyes with Thatcher, picking out his form through the gap where he aimed his carbine. "Shit..." Thatcher muttered "He's found us," Soon the soldier was signaling for his nearby comrades, shouting at them in the alien yet familiar language that Thatcher would call Russian.  From what little Thatcher picked up he heard:

"There they are! There the bastards are!" The soldier pointed at Thatcher and his men still huddled behind their positions.

"Up and ready boys!" Thatcher commanded, "And be ready to duck!" He clicked the safety off on his carbine and stood up, along with the rest of his Spec Ops troopers.  They all fired into the squad with their small caliber carbines and high caliber battle rifles, gunning them down.  The resounding echo of the gunshots dissipated into nothing, then the distant shouting of more soldiers echoed over the near-quiet ruin.  Then the building erupted with gunfire, rifles and machine guns rattled out their song of death.  Thatcher and the others fell to the ground hiding from the guns. "Lieutenant! Get me that damn phone!" Thatcher shouted over the cacophony of gunfire.  Sauers crawled on his stomach over the rubble to get to Thatcher, handing him the handset "Hey Colonel!" Thatcher shouted "We need an airstrike on the Pit House! And what's the word on the cav?" Thatcher returned the handset to the Lieutenant "Keep the Colonel on the phone!" He commanded.

"What's the word?" Halifax asked shouting.

"Cav's about three out! But it's gonna be God knows how long till we get that airstrike!" Thatcher responded frustrated.

"Why? We got an airstrip in the fuckin' city!"

"The Commies are pushing to the airstrip! Lord knows when they're pushin' 'em back!" 

"Goddamnit!" Halifax shouted angrily.

"Sir!" A regular called, raising his SLCR-12/3 "We got more comin' out!" The soldier fired off some shots before ducking back down.  Thatcher peered through an opening in their rubble barricade, seeing at least two squads of men approaching them with rifles and submachine guns, one carrying a pan-fed light machine gun. 

"Fuck!" He shouted, raising his carbine to fire upon them.  Just then, the roar of a rotary gun echoed from behind Thatcher's position and their approaching enemy was cut down by a stream of hot lead.  Thatcher turned around, watching as the glorious sight of an air cavalry Eagle transport chopper approached them from the northeast, the door gunner firing over them with his three-barreled Cerberus rotary gun. Cheers echoed over the squad as the chopper landed before them, its skids just barely touching the ground as a squad of regulars hopped out guns ready.  The squad engaged the building with rifles and squad guns, creating clouds of concrete dust with every bullet.  The structure stood tall and unhindered by the shots, two men from the cavalry fell and were promptly dragged to Thatcher's position to hide from the defenders. Thatcher looked over the more than twenty men now with him "Squad guns! Get propped up!" He ordered, still lying on his side.  The two squad gunners at his disposal climbed to positions among the rubble where they could easily prop up their guns and readied themselves.  "Fire!" he ordered and the men responded, sending flurries of thirty caliber bullets towards the still unyielding structure. 

"Captain!" The Sauers shouted, a smile on his dirty face "They got two planes off the strip and they'll be here in five minutes!" He shouted.

"That's good Lieutenant!" Thatcher shouted "What's the word on the rest of the cav?"

"They're two minutes out with another squad, sir!" 

"Good deal!" Thatcher gave Sauers a thumbs up.  Sure enough, around two minutes later the same chopper returned and dropped its payload.  This squad began entrenching itself further up than Thatcher's and firing upon the building alongside them.  Still, the building stood strong like a mountain, unyielding to the gunfire.  The man commanding this squad, a fellow captain named Richard Hunt crawled his way back to Thatcher's position. 

"Mornin' Billy!" Hunt shouted as he climbed over a tall piece of rubble, falling between Thatcher and Sauers.

"Ricky?" Thatcher asked over the sound of the battle with a smile "I ain't seen you since Moscow!"

"Yeah, it's been a minute!" Hunt replied adjusting himself "Quite a mess you're in!"

"Better than Moscow! Hell at least we made it to The Pit this time, in Moscow, I sat in the same damn hole for three weeks!"

"You said it, brother!" They high-fived "How you gettin' outta this one?" 

"We got support comin' in!" Just as he said that the roar of two radial engines popped up as two massive Bloodhound attack planes flew over the block behind them.  Each one fired two heavy wing-mounted rockets at the base of the building before pulling up sharp and turning away as the building finally collapsed in a cloud of fire and dust.  The guns were silenced and cheers echoed over the empty battlefield from Thatcher and Hunt's men.  Thatcher stood up and grabbed the phone from Sauers "Colonel, we're free and green in the pit, what're the orders? Copy that," He handed the phone to Sauers "We've got armor comin' in boys, we're movin' in and taking this city today!" whooping erupted over the troops at Thatcher's words. 

After around an hour's reprieve their support arrived, three Cougar main battle tanks.  They were tall armored beasts on steel tracks, their smoothbore 105mm guns stretching past the hull and ending with a massive muzzle break.  Thatcher and his men approached the middle tank of the convoy, Thatcher slammed his large fist against its hull alerting the commander who stuck his head up from the turret. 

"Mornin'!" He shouted over the rumbling diesel engines, tipping his tanker helmet back almost like a cowboy hat. 

"Mornin'!" Thatcher greeted back

"I reckon you're lookin' for a ride to the Mouth of Hell?"

"Yes sir!" 

"Alrighty then, you and your boys hop on! Keep off the lead tank!" As many of the men as possible climbed up the hulls of the second and third tanks and they started off with clouds of diesel smoke.  They traveled among the ruined buildings, artillery shells clashing in the distance as they neared the dreaded Palace of Hell.  The Palace of Hell was the capital building in the middle of the city, once home to a long line of kings and queens it had become home to the communist government of Tzarovicka.  Now it was a fort protected by lines of guns and barbwire with God knows what else around it.  The rattle of guns grew closer as they powered over mounds of rubble, the white marble palace was turned dark gray by the smoke and dirt of the siege. 

"There she is!" Thatcher shouted with a laugh as the tanks rolled on

Later in the day...



Thatcher finished his can gray can of potted meat, biting down on the last cracker in his pack as he watched the cleanup crews slowly move in.

"Quite a fight, huh?" He asked Hunt as he took a sip from the unlabeled soda can in his hand.

"I've been through worse," Hunt responded with a chuckle, sitting his mess kit down in his overturned helmet.  Hunt rubbed his eyes "Holy shit I'm tired," he declared.

"How long you been up?"

"Fifteen hours," Hunt groggily replied.

"Try twenty-six," Thatcher declared with a laugh 

"Really? Only twenty-six?" Hunt jokingly asked.

"Come on now, you gonna regale me with some tale 'bout how you stayed up for more than eighty hours in a flooded ditch in Venezuela?" Both Hunt and Thatcher laughed until they both went into a coughing fit. 

"Speakin' of eighty hours," Hunt said, slapping Thatcher and pointing to the convoy of bulldozers and dump trucks to the half-track car approaching them.  It stood out among the forest green trucks with its gray color and fancy yet rustic build.  Inside was a driver, two soldiers, and one towering man in a gray officer's suit and hat.  The car halted before the two and outstepped Military Governor Aaron Lee. Thatcher.  A towering man with a broad imposing build to match, his face was marked with a graying black beard that covered many of the wrinkles and lines on his face.  A scar crossed his lip and another crossed his head, the two men stood up stiff as boards, holding a hard salute.

"Captain Thatcher," he said in a rumbling deep voice.

"Military Governor Thatcher," 

"Captain Hunt you are dismissed, me and Captain Thatcher need to discuss something in private," Hunt finished the salute and ran off toward one of the many tents dotting the ruined cityscape. "Captain Thatcher, follow me please," The two walked over to a partially standing wall, standing behind so as not to be seen. "At ease soldier," Governor Thatcher said, Captain Thatcher eased up "Alright," Governor Thatcher looked around "Son," He began "This is personal... I am proud of you,"

"Th-thank you, sir," Captain Thatcher responded shocked.

"Lose the formalities right now, you can call me Pa.  I'm proud of you, it takes a lot to sit in one spot for almost twenty-four hours just to get a good shot.  Plus the way soldiers are talkin' about how you handled the building, good job, son," Governor Thatcher reached into his jacket, producing a gleaming silver cigar case, popping it open, and pulling out a long fat Cuban cigar "This is for you," he handed it to his son "And you'll be gettin' a medal real soon for that," Governor Thatcher clicked his heels and saluted his son, who responded with another salute.

"Thank you, sir!" He said.

"You're welcome... Son, now get some sleep, twenty-six hours is a long time to be up,"
> The Mysterious Planes
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

March 30th

Cloudsdale

The sun's warmth fell over Fluttershy as she stepped from her train and onto the open platform, her single roller bag in tow.  The station she stood at was surprisingly small for the large town, a simple one-platformed station with a single long station house running next to it.  This was unsurprising as this was not the grand station of Cloudsdale, rather it was a depot belonging to the Royal Equestrian Air Corps, where cargo and personnel were offloaded for the nearby airbase.  With two blasts of its low whistle, the mixed train slowly crawled away from the station, its heavy bell clanging as its pistons slowly chuffed along.  The train cleared the station putting the massive field into view, its long gray workshops and tall watchtowers were surrounded by a tall chainlink fence.  Fluttershy crossed the tracks and walked the rough dirt path connecting the depot and the field, upon reaching the gate to the airfield she was promptly stopped by two men in wide-brimmed helmets and gray fatigues holding bolt-action rifles.

"You're not allowed here!" One of the soldiers, a burly man with red hair, declared, pointing his rifle at Fluttershy. 

"Oh... Um," Fluttershy began in her soft voice, a nervous smile plastered across her face "I-I'm here to see Captain Rainbow Dash... She's my-" 

"Alright then," The guard interrupted her as he lowered his gun "I'm just gonna need to see your ID papers," Fluttershy knelt down and fished around in the small front pocket of her bag, producing a small leather booklet and handing it to the guard.  The guard looked over it, his eyes widening "Oh sorry Ms. Fluttershy," He said nervously, he and the other guard standing at attention. 

"I-It's fine," Fluttershy nervously stammered out, not fond of the attention "Just please, let me in,"

"Yes ma'am!" The guard declared before lifting the barricade blocking the road in.  Fluttershy stepped in, the dirt path beneath her transitioning to an asphalt road that connected each building and facility in the airfield.  She walked past hangars where mechanics maintained the powerful inline engines and other parts of the fighter aircraft at the base, a fighter passed nearby with a rattling drone as it neared the twin landing strips.  Several young men were gathered next to one of the fighters playing cards, paying her no mind as she passed.  It was not long before she reached her destination, the Colonel's office nestled between the crisscrossing runways and connected to the radio tower communicating with the pilots.  Inside the Colonel's office was Colonel High Wind, a much older man in a dark gray officer's suit, a massive scar crossing his left eye.  The tall man saluted Fluttershy.

"Ms. Fluttershy, it's good to see you," He said in his deep voice "I suppose you're wondering where Captain Dash is," 

"Y-yes sir,"

"Oh you don't need to be formal with me," Colonel Wind said with a smile on his bearded face "You technically outrank me and you aren't even in the corps," Wind laughed heartily "She's in the air right now, but I'll tell the boys in the radio room to call her down," The colonel walked into the room next-door and returned a moment later "Captain Dash should be landing any second now," He told Fluttershy, sending her off.  Leaving the office Fluttershy looked up and watched as Rainbow Dash's fighter passed low over her, pulling her sundress and hat with it.  Fluttershy snatched the hat out of the air and watched as the plane landed and promptly turned around.  The plane taxied down the runway and parked right in front of Fluttershy, the powerful engine rattling to a stop.  The pilot swung the canopy open and climbed her way out, standing on the wing in a dark gray flight suit.  She removed her helmet, revealing her short and messy rainbow hair.  She hopped down, her helmet tucked under her arm, Fluttershy immediately charged her, wrapping her thin arms around Rainbow Dash's waist. 

"Missed me, huh?" Rainbow Dash jokingly asked in her much harsher voice, placing a hand on Fluttershy's back.  She released Rainbow Dash, looked her in her magenta eyes, and said:

"It feels like years," Fluttershy answered softly.

"It's only been two months," Rainbow Dash said laughing as she gave Fluttershy a small kiss on her cheek.  Fluttershy blushed bright red, a beaming smile across her face. "There's more where that came from," Rainbow Dash told her lover seductively "Later, that sundress is comin' off," She caressed Fluttershy's still-blushing face.  The two were snapped from their moment when the shrill moan of the field's air-raid siren sounded off over the complex "What the..." Rainbow Dash muttered, "I gotta go!" She shouted, giving Fluttershy a long kiss on her lips before climbing back into her plane.  She started the plane with a boisterous roar and quickly whipped it around, joining three other fighters as they took to the sky. 

"What's the deal?" The crackling voice of a fellow pilot asked through the radio system.

"Observation's spotted a twin-engine plane carrying bombs of some kind headin' this way and we need y'all to look at him," Colonel Wind answered from the ground.

"That's it?" The pilot responded disappointedly.

"Come on Spring," Rainbow Dash began, using the handheld radio in her cockpit "Ya can't shoot every plane that comes at ya, this isn't training," Rainbow Dash and the third pilot laughed. 

"You're nearing him now, he's somewhere above y'all," As soon as Wind said that a blue blur roared over the three fighters.

"There's the son of a bitch," Rainbow Dash declared as the planes turned after him.  Quickly the squadron caught up to the plane.  It was navy blue with a white bottom and two engines with a single-man bubble cockpit. "Anyone got a visual on the bottom?"

"Looks like... Depth charges to me, Cap," Spring answered as he made a slow pass under the plane.

"Looks like he's got smoke comin' out of the right engine," The third pilot said "Hang on lemme get next to him... Alright, I see the tail marking... It says AO7, and the letters C-S-N-A-C on the fuselage... The only symbol is some sort of red X behind that,"

"I don't recognize that," Colonel Wind said, he was about to continue when he was cut off.

"Mayday... I've got a... leak... down... land... field..." The crackling voice of what they assumed was the navy blue bomber's pilot said through a storm of radio static. "Need... Fire... Return... Carrier..." 

"Pilot, this is Colonel Wind of the Cloudsdale Airfield, you have permission to land,"

"Th... God..." The plane began its hard descent, Rainbow Dash and her squadron following close behind.  The plane dropped its gear as it neared the northwestern runway.  The plane descended hard and fast, popping its rubber tires and skidding to a smoking halt, Rainbow Dash and the others passing overhead and landing close by.  She and the others climbed from their planes and joined a group of soldiers rushing over to the bomber, pistols drawn.  They watched as the plane's pilot climbed from the smoking aircraft hands in the air.  He hopped down from the cockpit and removed his helmet, setting it on the ground.  He was strange in appearance, his flight suit was pretty much the same as there's though blue rather than gray.  It was his skin and hair that stood out, his skin held a sort of peach-like white color to it with short blonde hair now a sweaty mess.  He got down on his knees, hands still up, and stated unprompted:

"I am Navy Airman First Class Leslie Hubert Rodman, I am stationed aboard the carrier CSS Vigilance and do not mean any harm.  There was a major malfunction in my plane's engine and I was too far from my carrier to return, I mean no harm," The soldiers ushered him to get up and guided him to the Colonel's office as a fire crew approached the plane. 



Later in The Day...



Nighttime had settled over the airbase, yet the events from earlier were still on everyone's mind, many called it some experiment, others called it an invasion, and some of the crazies called it aliens.  Rainbow Dash ignored these, she was in the officer's barracks on the southern side of the base and had little contact with these stories.  Right now she was in her small personal quarters, lit by a single lamp on a nightstand next to a metal-framed bed that sat a dull warm glow over the room.  She was not alone, with her was Fluttershy who sat on the bed still in her dress.  Rainbow Dash sat on the bed next to her, grabbing Fluttershy and pulling her close.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting for this," Rainbow Dash said, brushing a strand of hair out of Fluttershy's face.  The two embraced in a passionate kiss, letting all the feelings from the last two months out all over one another. Rainbow Dash unbuttoned Fluttershy's dress from behind "I told you this sundress was comin' off," She said seductively between the kissing.  Rainbow Dash slowly slid the shoulder straps down her lover's arms, revealing only her sparse undergarments. "Dear Sweet Celestia you're gorgeous," Rainbow Dash passionately told Fluttershy as she felt her up.  Rainbow Dash pulled away and started to unbutton her gray overshirt, stopping when a knock came at the door,

"Captain Dash!" The man on the other side called "Colonel Wind needs all the officers outside!" 

"Damnit," She muttered angrily, quickly buttoning her shirt and standing up to leave "Just stay here, I'll be right back," She then left the barracks, stepping out into the cold of the night where a crowd had gathered on the southwestern runway.  Descending from the sky were the bright lights of a landing aircraft, its engines emitting a mix of a propeller drone and a wind-like whistle. As it landed spotlights brightened it up, it was another twin-engine navy blue plane.  This one, however, was much larger with its belly low to the ground and its wings at the top rather than the bottom.  The engines wound down and a ramp lowered at the back, from what Rainbow Dash could see around twenty men stepped out, looking like soldiers in matching blue fatigues carrying some sort of rifle.  Ahead of them was a thin man in a blue officer's suit with an eyepatch over his right eye.  He looked similar to the pilot from earlier in terms of skin color, in fact, almost all of the troops with him shared the same skin color.

"What is the meaning of you landing at my field?" Colonel Wind angrily questioned, approaching the eyepatch-wearing officer.  The officer simply smiled and said:

"I am Admiral Thurston of the Confederate States Navy," His voice was smooth and calm "I am at command of Battle Fleet 6 and I believe you have both a pilot and plane that belong to me in your custody,"

"Yes! And what of it?" 

"I would like them back," Thurston answered with a smile.  A few minutes later they had all gathered outside the hangar where their plane was being held alongside the pilot. "So you're really keepin' one of my men in the same place you keep your planes?" Thurston asked with mild annoyance as they entered the hangar.

"Well we didn't have anywhere else to keep-" Wind was cut off:

"Spare me your excuses," Thurston looked over the craft and the pilot "I'll be takin' Officer Rodman with me but the plane is too big... In the meantime, it is not to be touched by anyone who is not in service to the Confederate States Navy.  In fact, I am keepin' six Marines here to guard this plane until a proper retrieval can be undertaken,"

"You can't do that!" Colonel Wind huffed as Thurston was walking off, Rodman in tow. "What authority do you have,"

"I have authority as Admiral, Colonel,"

"Princess Celestia will be hearing about this!"

"Call her, tell her the situation, and tell her to contact Confederate High Command to talk," Thurston left the hangar, returning to the plane on the airstrip.
> The New World
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

April 3rd

Southward City Harbor

The air was damp and salty and the hot afternoon sun was beating down on the six girls as they walked along the creaking wooden dock.  They were far away from the bustling main harbor of the city, there were no large freighters here or a loud dockyard.  Instead, they found themselves in an older and seldom-used part of town where the only boats present were half-sunk dinghies and old fishing trawlers.  The inconspicuous and hidden dock was the perfect place for the girls to go for their seemingly top-secret mission. 

"Are you sure this is the place, Twilight?" Rarity, a posh young woman with deep blue hair, said anxiously. 

"Well it looks like the place," Replied Twilight, a bookish girl with violet-streaked hair tied into a bun. "And I don't think Princess Celestia would purposefully give us the wrong location," Twilight looked around at the dingy dock and town before glancing back at the piece of paper in her hands, adjusting her big round glasses "Unless we're at the wrong place," She said with a sigh.

"Ah don't see any planes 'round here," Applejack, a tall, blonde, and well-built farm girl exclaimed as she looked around nervously "Ah don't think anybody in their right mind would be down here, no matter the circumstance,"

"Maybe... No, I read the address right, maybe Princess Celestia gave us the wrong address," Twilight let out another sigh.

"Wait a sec," Rainbow Dash, in her gray officer's uniform, began"Where's Pinkie?"

"I'm back here!" Their friend with poofy pink hair shouted cheerfully from far away.  The group turned around to find her almost at the opposite end of the dock pulling a giant wooden crate behind her in a little red wagon. "Just... Give... Me... A second!" She shouted as she strained with her cargo, moments later she had finally reached the group, faceplanting on the dock from weariness.  A moment later she hopped back up cheerfully, brushing off her blue ballon-covered dress.

"Pinkie..." Twilight rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration "Did you really have to bring... That?" She gestured to the crate.

"Well," A smile stretched across Pinkie's face "I couldn't decide what type of cake I should make for the meeting. So I made as many cakes as I could make in two days!" She began listing them off on her fingers. "I made, vanilla cake, chocolate cake, strawberry cake, cheesecake, coconut cake, pineapple upside-down cake, bunt cake, double chocolate cake, and carrot cake! Then I combined them all into one big cake! I was gonna make an ice cream cake but it melted so-"

"Pinkie!" Twilight shouted, halting Pinkie's rambling "I don't think that crate's gonna fit on the plane,"

"Well it doesn't look like there's even gonna be a plane," Rainbow Dash complained, rubbing her face in frustration.  Just then they were approached by someone, he was a young man in a pilot's uniform with a peaked cap and bomber jacket.

"Excuse me," He said, "I'm Captain Northwind, you're looking for your pilot right?" Twilight turned to face him.

"Yes sir,"

"Well follow me then," He turned and continued back where he came from, the six girls following as close as they could with Pinkie's heavy crate in tow.  They followed him to the end of the dock where several soldiers stood outside a large metal door.  Just beyond the pier and built into the cliff it ran along was a massive wooden gate that looked more like a boathouse gate than anything.  Captain Northwind opened the door, holding it for the girls and their cargo before letting it close behind them with a boom.  Behind the door was a cave strung with cables powering bright lights that hung from the roof.  They were still on a wooden dock, lined with large tool cases, fuel drums, and other bits and pieces related to aircraft, men in army uniforms walked along the pier.  The girls were shocked to see that in the water next to the dock was a rather large boat plane.  The massive beast was silver with high wings holding four radial engines and a boat-like bottom, a bright sun painted on the fuselage to mark it as Equestrian.  Two walkways led to the front and rear of the craft, holding the passenger and cargo entrances respectfully.  "Alright, hand your gear to the boys and we'll get loaded and head off," Captain Northwind told them before boarding through the passenger entrance.  The girls sat their luggage and large crate down next to the cargo ramp and started to board the plane. Accept for Fluttershy, who had been quiet the entire journey.

"A-are you sure we should be doing this?" She asked with a kindly yet nervous smile "I'm sure there's a much s-safer way of getting there that doesn't involve... Flying..." Something about the plane and the idea of flying in it elicited a sense of dread in the shy girl.  Rainbow Dash walked back down the ramp.

"What's wrong Flutters?" she asked lovingly.

"Well, it's just... I've never flown before, a-and we've never gone this far away before... And I'm worried about the animals at home," She exclaimed anxiously

"Whoa there, Flutters, everything's gonna be fine, flying isn't that bad," Rainbow Dash told Fluttershy reassuringly.

"Yeah, and the Crusaders'll take real good care of the critters," Applejack proclaimed.

"And the plane's perfectly safe, nothing could go wrong,"

"Well..." Twilight was about to say something but Rainbow Dash cut her off.

"Twilight, do not say a word," Rainbow Dash said seriously. "Come on Flutters, flying's fun, you'll see,"

"Well... Ok," She started up the ramp with Rainbow Dash and all the girls boarded into the surprisingly spacious interior.  There was a lounge, a viewing deck, a dining area, and even separate bunks. 

"well this a real step up from the... Usual planes," Rarity said in reference to the military transports they normally rode in as she sat down in one of the couch-like lounge chairs lining the walls.

"Alright everyone, settle down and we'll start off," Captain Northwind called through the static-filled intercom.  The group settled down in their seats, it was not long before each of the four engines rattled to life with low drones that were muffled by the plane's fuselage.  The tall wooden gate crept open and the cables and ramps were pulled away, allowing the floating beast to roll out of its hiding spot and into the open waters.  The pilot turned the plane east and started off over the water, picking up speed.  It was not long before the plane finally lifted out of the water and began rising up into the sky.  Each girl inside felt a mix of excitement and fear, Fluttershy clenching her eyes shut as tight as humanly possible.  By the time the plane leveled out she had almost passed out from holding her breath the whole time. "You may now move around the cabin," Their captain called, all of the girls got up and left the cabin to the viewing deck just up a narrow staircase and watched the ocean below them as they left their familiar home for a new world.



April 3rd

New Richmond, Federal Republic of Dixie

Thatcher sat in his personal chamber, his only light being that of his bedside lamp and wood furnish television, which sat across from his leather recliner.  He was leaning back, a cigar in his hand wearing only his sleeping clothes and red robes as he watched an old black and white John Wayne movie.  He was jolted from his relaxed state by a knock coming from his office door.

"Hold on a moment!" He called with a groan he set his cigar in the ashtray next to his chair and got up.  He walked from the bedroom to his office which was pitch black say for the dull glow behind him.  He crossed the office, careful to avoid any of the boxes of files littered about the hastily assembled room, and found the worn-out light switch next to the door, he flipped it on and the room was bathed in the warmth of the old Edison bulbs hanging from the ceiling in a street lamp like fixture.  Thatcher opened the splintering old door with a creak and found himself face to face with an officer in his mid-thirties, and from the silver oak leaf on his shoulders, this man was a lieutenant colonel. "Evenin', Lieutenant Colonel Hammond," He greeted in his smooth Mississippi accent

"Good evenin' to you too, Governor Thatcher," he said casually, a small smile on his mustache face. "I hope I'm not intrudin' on you, sir,"

"It's not a problem, I've seen The Alamo enough times," Thatcher scowled "But it is rather late, and I would like to finish my cigar 'fore I head off to bed,"

"Sorry then sir, but this is rather important," He reached into the pocket of his coat and produced a folded strand of telegraph paper, and handed it to Thatcher. "It's from a city called Canterlot, sir," Thatcher unfolded the piece of paper.

"Well, I reckon Canterlot's the capital of that nation our Super Pegasus had its little accident in," Thatcher looked it over. "Hmm," He reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out of half-lense reading glasses, putting them on. "Says here that they're sending six diplomats to Ravensburg," He chuckled "I guess they ain't got the news that we've changed the name of this little town to New Richmond,"

"Six ain't a small number, sir," Hammond said.

"No, it ain't..." Thatcher rested his back against the doorframe "Perhaps they want to talk about a bit more than that plane,"

"Perhaps it's the soldiers we have stationed there,"

"Well he had to do somethin'," Thatcher explained "We don't need 'em pokin' and proddin' around our equipment, no sir. And it's not like we could haul it back to the Vigilance on a Seahorse, we'd need at least an HT-98 to haul that thing off,"

"Perhaps an HT-18 even," Hammond interjected.

"Therein lies the issue, if we need one of those we'd have to send off to Old Richmond and order one to be brought it, we ain't got one here with us. Hell, we only got two T-18s!" Thatcher exclaimed aloud. "And six diplomats are still an awful lot, they must want somethin' more,"

"Perhaps an alliance," Hammond Proposed

"Perhaps, or they could want a piece of our pie here, this country's so big just about everyone would want a piece of it,"

"Yeah, it's about half the size of Russia, which still puts it as bigger than the mainland Confederacy. Who wouldn't want a piece of it, hell I imagine that just about everybody north, south, east, and west of us is itchin' for a bite,"

"Well we know that little country, North Zebrica is after some of it," Hammond told his superior with conviction.

"Don't remind me, not even a month here and we've had three raids down south from those savages, hell I've seen more civilized warriors in The Congo,"

"Evidently, their king ain't much of a king,"

"No sir," Thatcher stopped and looked over the piece of paper again "They left from a place called Southward CIty, I reckon that'll put them out 'til tomorrow," Thatcher stood straight up "Lieutenant Colonel," He began, causing Hammond to compose himself more seriously "I need you to tell them to put one of them land-ships out on the firin' range, and set aside a Cougar for tomorrow.  Ya know, show 'em the might of the Confederacy, and have a platoon fresh and clean in the mornin' properly groomed, washed fatigues and pristine gear, have 'em clean their guns too," 

"Sir yes sir!" Hammond said with a salute before going off, only to be stopped by Thatcher immediately 

"And another thing, have a telegram sent to Field Marshall Hughes in Memphis, I reckon they might be comin' by boat plane and I want him to greet 'em if so,"

"Sir yes sir," Hammond said with another salute before going off.  Thatcher shut and locked the door, clicking off the office lights and returning to his bedroom, picking up where he left off on his cigar and finishing his movie.



April 4th

Memphis, Federal Republic of Dixie 

"We're here!" Twilight excitedly called as she and her company looked out from the viewing deck, below them was the bustling harbor of West Humbleville, a dockside city that had been a prestigious harbor before the nation's fall to communism some years ago and its second fall into the hands of a mysterious and modern army.  The city was dingy and concealed by low clouds, the rocking mirky water was home to cruisers of a modern ilk, bearing a blue flag with seven stars in a circle.  Sitting away from the cruisers and small cargo ships, and away from the harbor was a tall and long battleship bearing nine great guns on broad turrets. 

"Attention, we will now be landing so please return to your seats and settle in," Captain Northwind called over the intercom, the girls went back down to the lounge and settled in their seats as the plane descended over the harbor, finding a spot at the near empty boat plane dock far away from the other ships.  The craft landed with a splash and slowed to a crawl, turning into a spot guided by men in matte gray clothes.  The plane halted, tied to the dock by cables, and the unloading ramps were pushed against its side. "You may now depart," Northwind called, signaling for the six girls to depart their flight, the cool damp air bit at them, most of them not dressed for the weather.  Fluttershy shivered, she wore a sundress, which was more fit for a summer afternoon rather than an early spring morning.  Rarity faired no better in her custom-made blue dress made from thin fabric.  Twilight, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and surprisingly Pinkie Pie were fairing far better, as they made their way down the steel ramp onto the concrete dock a man approached them.  He was tall and thin, wearing a gray officer's suit.  His skin was a dark brown almost black color, his short black hair was covered by a peaked officer's cap and a thin pencil mustache marked his middle-aged face.

"Good mornin' ladies," He said with a toothy smile "I reckon y'all had a good flight?"

"Yes sir," Twilight began "It was quite a fun flight, I don't think any of us have ever come this far,"

"Glad to hear it, I'm Field Marshall Edgar Fredrick Hughes, 3rd Legion Mississippi," He extended his hand out to Twilight. 

"And I'm Princess Twilight Sparkle," She shook his hand.

"Princess? Well, I wasn't told we were gonna have a princess with us today," He said "You do dress different from any princesses I know of though," He was commenting on the out-of-place lab coat she wore "It is rather odd for anybody to be wearing a lab coat outside of a lab," He broke the handshake "And I assume these are your consorts?" 

"Oh no, these are my friends," Twilight replied.

"Well it's a pleasure to meet y'all too," Hughes greeted, tipping his cap "Now what's y'all's names?"

"Ah'm Applejack," Applejack said with a smile

"I'm Rainbow Dash," Rainbow Dash greeted pridefully.

"And you're a fellow officer too, army?"

"Airforce," 

"Well ya coulda fooled me, a less knowledgeable man woulda mistaken you for a Confederate Army Officer," 

"I'm Rarity," Rarity greeted in her usual flamboyant manner.

"Folks as good-lookin' as you are truly a rarity," Hughes jokingly complimented "Just don't tell my wife I said that," Rarity blushed at the compliment.

"Thank you, darling..."

"I'M PINKIE PIE!" Shouted Pinkie, more excited than usual.

"Yes, I see..." Hughes responded nervously, shocked by the outburst.

"And... I'm F-Fluttershy..." Fluttershy greeted, hiding behind Rainbow Dash as she played with her hair nervously.

"Nervous ain't ya," Hughes began "We all get nervous the first time in a new place, I tell you the first parachute drop I did back in Venezuela I nearly died of a heart attack just from hoppin' out of the plane," Hughes laughed.  A moment later men in gray fatigues without helmets passed the group pushing carts carrying their luggage, three men hauled the crate, one pulling and two pushing it from behind. "We'll have to do a quick bag check but we'll be flyin' in a minute,"

"Wait... We'll be doing more flying?" Fluttershy's eyes widened in horror. Rainbow Dash wrapped her arm around Fluttershy and pulled her closer, a loving smile on her face, calming Fluttershy down.  The girls and luggage went further up the dock where their luggage was checked by men holding strange guns who aimed them at the bags, running them over like scanners. 

"All clear," One said, giving a thumbs up.  The group left the dock, entering the nearby airstrip through a checkpoint guarded by men holding rifles with helmets marked MP. The airstrip was a smaller one, with three large hangars and most of the planes sitting in the open, which were mostly forest green trimotor transports. 

"Now sadly we didn't have a proper passenger plane on hand," Hughes told the girls as they approached one of the trimotors waiting near the runway "So we'll be using a regular transport if that's not too much of an issue,"

"Oh, it shouldn't be," Twilight responded "We've flown in plenty of military transports,"

"Good, I wouldn't trust any plane more than a classic GPT-98, I've been taken to almost every CZ in one of these," Edgar said as he grabbed the round handle on the large rear door, turning it with a loud screech and letting it swing open with a low moan. "Ladies first," He said stepping aside.  Twilight was the first inside and was taken aback by the sparseness of the interior.  The floor was all metal, the walls had no lining beside the supports holding the outer paneling and round windows and there were no seats to be found. 

"Hmm," Twilight said confused as her other friends funneled in behind her.

"Oh, this looks... Lovely..." Rarity said, forcing a smile.

"I don't think we've ever flown in a plane without seats before," Applejack stated, trying to laugh.

"A-are we gonna have to stand?" Fluttershy asked horrified.

"Oh no ma'am," Hughes stated loudly as he stepped in. "Pardon me," he said as he pushed through the group "The seats fold up," He said as he grabbed one of the small seats folded against the plane's interior, pulling it down with a creak that echoed throughout the cabin.  Each of the girls folded down a seat and sat down across the walkway from Huges while their cargo was loaded at the plane's rear, leaving just enough room for someone to squeeze through the door.

"Christ," A voice called from outside "They gotta be kiddin'," 

"Doesn't look like it," Another called 

"That box looks like it'll put us right at the weight limit," Both voices laughed, and a moment later in stepped two men, both wearing gray uniforms and bomber jackets with peaked caps.  The men squeezed through the cramped cabin and to the cockpit separated only by a thin wall and narrow doorway. "Y'all ready?" One called as they settled down in their seats. 

"Yes sir!" Hughes responded.  The pilots proceeded with their pre-flight checks, getting through them as quickly as possible.

"Ready battery engine one," The pilot called.

"Copy, battery ready," A low hum could be heard through the paper-thin walls of the plane.

"Engage fuel pump engine one," 

"Copy, engaging fuel pump engine one," A low clicking could be heard amongst the humming now.

"Start engine one,"

"Copy, starting engine one," First there was a loud whir then the engine thundered to life with a ferocious and monstrous roar as the sixteen-cylinder radial engine kicked into gear.  Suddenly a loud buzzer was heard in the cockpit.

"Shit... We got a bad piston in engine one,"

"Aw hell, what are we gonna do?"

"We're gonna go if this plane can fly on one engine then we'll make it on a bad piston," This seemed to worry all the girls. "Repeat process engine two,"

"Copy that, repeating process engine two," Moments later the engine ahead of the cockpit roared to life, filling the cabin with the deafening roar of thirty-two cylinders. 

"No faults, repeat process engine three," 

"Copy, repeating process engine three," Engine three soon roared to life, joining the industrial symphony of the other engines.  Out of the corner of her eye, Twilight caught what looked to be fire shooting out of engine three's exhaust.

"Pilot!" She cried over the engines "There's fire coming out of the engine!"

"That's normal!" The pilot shouted back in response "If it don't spit fire then it ain't worth flyin'!" The pilot and copilot laughed aloud.  After a quick call to air traffic control, the plane started off down the runway, gaining speed as it slowly lifted off the ground rising to just below the gray cloudline.  They flew in silence, holding onto their seats in fear as the plane rattled its way over the flat countryside and what looked like the scattered remains of aircraft and other equipment that littered the ground below. 

"How are you so cool with this?!" Twilight shouted to Hughes over the roaring engines.

"With what?!" He shouted back

"With this flight! How can you enjoy this?!"

"Hell, I've been through worse! You ain't ever had flak goin' off all around you! Hell, durin' the drop over Valencia, back in 2012, you couldn't see the city there was so much artillery smoke!"

"Ya shoulda been over New Richmond last week!" The pilot shouted "We took an almost direct hit from some flak! Lost engine three and almost lost engine two! Airman Barkley got a graze on his leg and freaked out like he lost both of them!" The pilot laughed.  They kept on flying, Hughes and the crew cracking jokes and telling stories while the girls sat stiff as boards with every bump in the air they went over. 

April 4th

New Richmond, Federal Republic of Dixie

After around three hours of rough and rattling flight the pilot called out from his cockpit: "We're here ladies! New Richmond! Say, Marshall, have you been to New Richmond yet!?" 

"No sir!" Hughes answered.

"Well it's beautiful, they built a big ass airfield in two days, not a dirt strip in sight, all tarmac!" 

"We got the best engineers on Earth!" Hughes called back with a laugh.

"Earth?" Twilight thought to herself "I don't think I've ever heard anyone call the world earth before... Come to think of it I haven't heard of or even read about some of those places he was talking about. Mississippi, Valencia, Venezuela, even the dates don't add up!" She was jolted from her thoughts as the plane landed on the runway below them with a heavy thud, slowing to taxiing speed and turning off toward a line of brick buildings separated from the strip by a tall chainlink fence.  The plane's engines rattled to silence the hefty plane door was swung open, allowing the weary passengers to leave, Hughes following close behind unafflicted by the journey. Rarity tiredly leaned against the plane's outer wall.

"I... I don't think I want to do that ever again," She said breathlessly.

"Yeah," Twilight replied leaning over "That was..."

"Somethin' else," Applejack finished.

"I thought it was unusually smooth, actually," Hughes said in all seriousness.  A few moments later, after everyone had gotten off the plane and was resting nearby, a single forest green flatbed three-quarter-ton truck rolled up with its top and windshield down and a crew of six men in worker's clothes sitting in the back, and an officer in the passenger seat.  The truck halted before them, the driver shutting its engine off, and the eight men departed, the driver and workers filing in behind the officer.  He was tall and broad, with a graying beard on his aging face and a peaked cap covering his bald head, he was an intimidating figure to behold. 

"Good mornin' ladies," He greeted in a smooth voice that sounded almost out of place coming from the man before them.  They did not answer his greeting. "I'm Military Governor Aaron Lee. Thatcher, Ya don't need to worry about greetin's now, I got a telegram with your names on it, military policy, so I know who y'all are," The girls still stood silent, gazing at the mountain of a man before them, who just smiled on. "Marshall Hughes," He began, breaking the silence and striding over to Hughes, shaking his hand "I assume you had a fine flight here?"

"Yes sir, although I don't think our guests here were too fond of it," Hughes responded, gesturing to the rattled young women.

"I'm not surprised, flyin' on one of those takes some gettin' used to," He slapped the tail of the plane with his large hand. "Captain Willard," Thatcher greeted yet again, extending his hand to the tall thin pilot.

"Governor Thatcher," He shook Thatcher's hand. "If we're talkin' about planes, the old girl here had a bad piston in engine one,"

"I'll call for a tractor to come and pull it to maintenance," He ended their handshake and turned to face the girls "Our ride'll be here in a moment, don't worry, it's a much smoother ride than the plane.  That, I assure you," He turned around to the workers "Alright!" He commanded in a hard and booming voice that caused all the girls to jump "I want this plane unloaded and the cargo taken to the guest quarters, now!" The men got to work, unloading the bags and heavy crate from the plane, it was soon after that a much larger truck with tall and thick mud tires rumbled up to them.  "Here she is!" Thatcher shouted over its diesel engine, his voice reverted back to its previous smooth nature. "Hop in!" He went over to the truck, climbing up into the high open cab.  The girls along with Hughes climbed into the end, setting themselves down on the wooden bench behind the cab.  With a hard slap on the back of the cab from Hughes the truck was off.  It was a rough ride, but it was far more comfortable than the plane ride at least.  Before long they had left the airport and were now riding along a crudely made road between mounds of rubble that must have been buildings before.  They passed by work sites where bucket loaders dumped piles of concrete and other materials into similar-sized trucks with dumping beds.  In the distance, an explosion echoed out and a hollowed-out building collapsed in a pile of rock and dust.  Finally, after at least a ten-minute drive they reached their destination, a pile of sandbags where several men, both officers, and soldiers stood.  The truck halted in a cloud of dust next to the gathered men, shutting down.  They all unloaded off the truck.

"Governor Thatcher," One of the two officers there, a much older man with a thick beard and a gold-handled cane, greeted in a harsh and raspy voice.

"Marshall Clemson," The two men shook hands, Thatcher ended the handshake and went over to the other officer, a thin man with round glasses and a long face "Marshall Smith," They shook hands.

"Governor Thatcher," he greeted in a sniveling voice. "I assume these are the diplomats,"

"Yes sir," Thatcher said, ending the handshake and gesturing to the girls "They journeyed all the way from Equestria to talk to us about the airplane situation.  I figured I'd give 'em a little demonstration of our equipment," Thatcher looked around "Speaking of which... Lieutenant!" He shouted to the two soldiers who were standing next to an emplaced field phone. "Where's the damned tank!?"

"The guys at the lot said there was a busted fuel line, sir! They said they would be out here as soon as possible, sir!"

"Well that's glorious, ain't it?" Thatcher rubbed his eyes in frustration "Y'all just wait here," He said turning to Twilight and her friends "The officers and I need to go discuss something over by the truck," So the girls went over to the sandbags, looking at the old metal husk of a multi-turreted land ship that sat some distance away, and the four men went over to the rear of the truck, Clemson hobbling on his cane. "So what do y'all think?" Thatcher asked quietly, making sure the group had their backs turned "About our little group? A diverse bunch, ain't they?"

"A little underdressed too," Clemson commented "One's dressed like she just got off the tractor, one's dressed like she teaches at a clown school, and one's dressed like she's about to go for a walk on the beach.  Only 'bout three o' them are dressed for any sorta proper occasion,"

"I don't know, one's dressed like a whorehouse dancer and one's dressed like a doctor," Hughes replied "Only one's really dressed for the occasion," He pointed to Rainbow Dash. 

"I wouldn't call that dressed like a doctor anyway," Thatcher began, smirking. "She's wearing a skirt that's gotta be at least four inches above the knee, any doctor knows that is far outside of regulation,"

"I think they're queer too," Smith interjected in his usual observational manner.

"What makes ya say that?" Thatcher asked, reaching into his coat for his cigar case.  Smith pointed to the group, and both Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy, who were leaning on the sandbags holding hands and talking about something.

"Hmm," Thatcher put a thick cigar in his mouth, sparking it up with a silver lighter and blowing off thick clouds of smoke into the light morning breeze. "Ya think they'd have the decency to hide it, wouldn't ya?" He said in a puff of smoke, an heir of disgust in his voice.

"Well they ain't heard about God, so..." Clemson stated, leaning on his cane.

"Yet," Thatcher began. "They'll hear about him soon enough," Thatcher chuckled and took a puff off of his cigar.  Finally, after several minutes the rumble of a diesel engine came over in the distance, the tank had finally arrived and was pulling down the same road the group had ridden in on, its commander riding atop the round turret.  Its fearsome engine belched black smoke from its twin tailpipes as it rattled and groaned, its tracks pushing it along.  The beast parked adjacent to the gathered spectators and some ten feet ahead of the sandbags, its engine still rumbling lightly.  Thatcher's group gathered at the sandbags, Thatcher going to the tank and grabbing a headset from the crew for communication.  Setting his hat on the sandbags, he put on the headset and began commanding the crew: "Load SABOT, aim the gun, and wait for my command!" Thatcher looked over at his guests, covering the microphone on his headset "Ya might wanna cover your ears," All except for Clemson and Thatcher covered their ears "Fire!" Thatcher commanded, not a moment later a blast of fire and smoke ejected from the tank's gun, shooting out on plumes from the side of its muzzle break followed by a boom that shook the ground.  The distant land ship erupted in a shower of sparks and flames as the depleted uranium shot struck the side of its hull.  Thatcher and his gang burst out laughing like a group of joyful kids. "Quite the spectacle, ain't it?" Thatcher asked Twilight.

"I guess it was pretty cool," Twilight let out a chuckle, it was a pretty exciting sight, even for her.

"Good, there's more where that came from," He responded with a grin "Take the tank about two-hundred yards away and engage your ATLO System, then pull forward," The tank turned and back some two hundred yards right of the spectators and started back toward them "Notice how the gun's turret is moving with the tank?" Thatcher asked "The Advanced Target Lock-On System, or ATLO System locks the tank's gun onto its target allowing better moving fire without putting too much stress on the crew... Now cover your ears," The gun, moving free of the tank, fired again with another burst of smoke and another blast of fire and sparks from the target as the tank passed before the sandbag viewing platform. 

"That all sounds pretty expensive," Twilight commented.

"Not when you've got a big military budget," Thatcher responded nonchalantly. "You're dismissed Commander, return to the shop," The tank spun around on its tracks and started back up the road. 

Later in The Day...

Thatcher and his group had just finished their rather summarized base tour, showing off their transport planes and strange machines called helicopters, alongside the mysterious jet fighters they kept hidden in their hangars.  The group halted before a squad of ten men in full battle dress including forest green plate carriers with ammo pouches, steel battle helmets that protected the head, their kitbags with bed rolls and entrenching tools, and their battle rifles with green polymer furniture.  Two men stood out with one holding a smaller carbine and the other an all-metal belt-fed light machine gun.  The men saluted as the four officers approached.

"Now I had originally wanted a full platoon," Thatcher began, his back turned to the soldiers "Sadly we just shipped a bunch of our boys down south to deal with some raidin' down that way, so the best we could muster for a display was a squad," He turned back to the men "Ten men, seven regulars, one light gun squad, and a Sergeant at the head," Thatcher approached one of them, who stood off to the side. "Sergeant!" He commanded in his booming voice.

"Sir, yes, sir!" The middle-aged sergeant shouted in response. 

"Give me your rifle!" 

"Sir, yes, sir!" The sergeant slung his rifle from his shoulder, handing it to Thatcher who turned around and displayed the gun to the crowd.

"This is the SLCR-12/3, which stands for Self Loading Combat Rifle Model of 2012, Variant 3! The current variant has a folding and nonreciprocating charging handle just below the ejection port, as well as improved effectiveness in desert environments! This rifle is modeled after the Fusil Automatique Leger, a design first built by the Belgian company Fabrique Nationale in 1994, and adopted by the Confederate States Army in 2011! It is chambered in the powerful .308 Bradford cartridge and fires in both three-round burst and semi-automatic from a twenty-one-round box magazine!" There it was again, Belgian, 2012, 2011, 1994, America, these were names and dates that lined up with none of the knowledge Twilight had of Equus.

"Hold on a sec," Twilight interjected "None of these dates or names make any sense," Thatcher handed the rifle back to the sergeant.

"What do you mean?" he asked almost gravely.

"2012, Mississippi, Belgian, none of it makes sense!" Twilight cried in confusion "In all of the books I've read, there's no mention of any of this!"

"Whoa now partner," Thatcher said, his voice turning back to the smooth and casual way he normally used "We'll talk about this over supper, let's finish the display here and head on in.  You look like you could use a drink anyways," Twilight finally calmed down.

"Ok..." She said breathlessly.

"Good," Thatcher responded before losing his smile "Sergeant!"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"Do you see that silhouette target!?" Thatcher pointed to a paper target standing about three hundred yards west of them.

"Sir, yes, sir!" 

"Put six rounds downrange in semi-automatic, center mass, no hesitation!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" The soldier readied his rifle, clicked the safety off, and aimed the rifle.  He fired off six rounds in quick succession with thundering cracks, all hitting center mass.

"Good job, soldier!" Thatcher commended "Now finish off the mag in burst mode!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" He clicked the switch again and fired off in loud bursts, emptying the last fifteen rounds into the black target before dropping the thin metal magazine to the ground and pulling one from his plate carrier, jamming it into the mag well closing the bolt.  The sergeant clicked the safety and slung it back over his shoulder with a salute.

"Dismissed!" Thatcher commanded, sending the soldiers marching off in formation with a salute.  Sometime later they were sitting at a long wooden table under the warm glow of the ceiling-mounted lamps.  On the long table were dishes of macaroni and cheese, baked beans, green beans, cornbread, and seared rabbit. "Now before we did in, I'd like to say a word of grace," Thatcher said as he stood up "So if you would please, bow your head and close your eyes," All the attendees did so, even though it confused the girls a little. "Our father, who art in heaven, thank you for blessing us with the most bountiful meal that is resting before us.  Please let it be nourishment to our bodies as we serve you oh Father God, in your name we pray, amen,"

"Amen," The officers all said in unison, the girls still sat silent. 

"Alright," Thatcher sat down, lifting his glass of Amaretto "Dig in," All except for Fluttershy.

"Uhm, Excuse me," She began, Thatcher setting his glass down to look at her. "Uhm... I don't really... you know..."

"She doesn't eat meat," Rainbow Dash interjected, finishing for the shy girl who simply smiled.

"Well," Thatcher began seriously in a harsher voice "She can eat beans and cornbread, it was near impossible to get that rabbit out here somebody's eatin' it," He looked directly across the table at Twilight "Now that that's resolved, what were you on the verge of losin' it over out yonder?" He chuckled.

"It's just that, the dates and names don't make sense, it's 1007, not 2012! And where is this Mississippi?" Thatcher took one more sip from his glass before sitting it down and folding his hands in front of him.

"You wanna know about that stuff?" Thatcher asked gravely "Alright, I'll get the most jarring thing out of the way first and say that we aren't of this world," Rainbow Dash immediately burst out laughing unprompted. Thatcher stared her down and she stopped

"Wait... You're serious... Aren't you?" She asked embarrassed.

"Yes ma'am,"

"But that doesn't make sense," Twilight proclaimed as she rubbed her temples "How can you be from a different world?"

"Well, I assumed you noticed how our skin color ain't quite so diverse," Twilight blushed.

"I wasn't gonna comment on that," Twilight let out a nervous chuckled

"You're doin' better than a lot of folks where we're from.  As for the dates, you said it's what?"

"April 4th, 1007..."

"It's September 15th, 2028 on Earth, our planet, I turned 56 two days ago," He raised his glass, as did the other officers.

"Ooooooh happy late birthday!" Pinkie Pie burst out excitedly "You know I brought a giant cake without even knowing there was a birthday boy!"

"Silence women!" Thatcher stated loudly at the poofy-haired girl. "We will discuss the cake once supper is finished, and we have concluded with our talks of a more serious matter,"

"Wait a minute, how can you be from a different world? By all calculations that should be impossible,"

"You clearly didn't do the right calculations, the portal to get here required so much math we had better luck just creating a computer to do it for us," 

"Portal?"

"Yep, we used a portal to get here, hell of a lot easier than some sort of spaceship.  We got our navy here through a lightning storm so big it nearly destroyed Memphis,"

"Yep," Hughes interjected.

"And we did most of this in about a week, takes a lot of gumption," Thatcher cut a piece of rabbit and quickly ate it "I'm from Mississippi, it's a state in the deeper part of the Confederacy, hot and humid as hell.  Hughes is from Alabama, which is the same as Mississippi minus the good stuff," Hughes punched Thatcher's arm and laughed along with him.  This confused Twilight, who found it odd that they would make fun of each other's homelands while laughing alongside.  Thatcher ceased laughing "Smith is from Tennessee, a beautiful state no doubt, and Clemson is from Virginia, the grand capital state of our nation," 

"Yes sir!" Clemson called, raising his glass of Whiskey and Coke.

"Where are these places?" Twilight asked "This Virginia, Tennessee, Alabama, and Mississippi?"

"We'll look at the maps tomorrow after we've discussed our little plane situation,"

"Tomorrow?" Twilight asked confused

"Of course, it's a little too late now, we'll go to bed and discuss it in the morning when we're all a bit more rested. I imagine y'all would want some rest after your flight and tour," Twilight was feeling a bit tired, both flights and the quick tour of the base had taken their toll on her and her friends, dinner, and dessert followed by a bath and a good night's sleep on solid ground sounded great.  "That sounds like enough info for right now, we can finish tomorrow," Thatcher ended that conversation and continued eating, along with the others. 

"So, Aaron," Clemson said, losing any sense of military etiquette. "Where's Billy at? You said he was gonna join us for supper," Thatcher began chuckling, he had been doing that a lot and said:

"So this one's a funny story, Ya know how I brought Sasparilla here with me? Well, I had him go feed her this mornin', right? And ya know she's got a bit of a mean streak in her. Well, he got a little too close to her behind and took a good kick to the fellas... He's in the infirmary," The whole group of officers burst out laughing, leaving the girls puzzled.

"Special Operations Captain William Henry Thatcher, the man that took a gunshot to the chest and kept fightin' has been sent to the hospital from a kick to the manhood!" Clemson stated with hoarse laughter.

"I was already gonna give him a medal for takin' the damn city, I reckon he's gonna get another Blue Cross for injury in the line of duty!" They all finished their meals and ate from the seven-foot-tall cake, most finding it difficult to discern what was under all the frosting.  Even with all ten of them and Pinkie's love for sweets the cake was too big to finish.  Afterward, they all bathed in the luckily private showers and were led to the quarters, a large room with six army cots covered by thin gray blankets. "Sorry it's just cots, we were taken a little off guard by your arrival," Thatcher said apologetically "Now y'all sleep as long as ya like, ignore the first call that's for the soldiers.  Good night," He closed the door behind them.

"Ugh, anything seems better than those beds on the plane," Rarity said as she plopped down on one of the cots, almost immediately falling asleep.  The others followed suit, laying down on their springy cots, drifting to sleep to the sound of a bugle playing its slow evening call.
> What Might The Future Hold?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

April 5th
New Richmond, FRD

A heavy knock at the bedroom door awoke the girls.

"What's goin' on?" Rainbow Dash asked, rubbing her head as she sat up in her cot.  The knocking continued until Twilight got up and answered, still in her purple nightgown. 

"Princess Twilight," The Military Policeman behind the door greeted "Thatcher needs you at his office in twenty minutes," The MP saluted and turned around to leave.  

"Twenty minutes? That's not nearly enough time!" Rarity complained as she too started getting up.  Within five minutes all the girls had quickly washed up and gotten dressed, a task that was in no way easy, and were outside of their boarding house.  The six girls were greeted by three other policemen who gestured for the group to follow them, the six girls and three MPs started off down the sidewalk.

"I tell ya what, y'all better be careful 'round Thatcher this mornin'," One of the men said.

"Why?" Twilight asked.

"There was another raid down south, normally they just come in and burn the place.  Ya know, send a message, they don't usually kill people. Well, last night we got a call in that a town got ransacked, didn't burn a damn thing, and robbed the church, it was a Catholic Church so it had some goodies in it.  On top of that, there was two folks that got killed and it's all got the Ole Mule pissed the hell off," 

"That sounds awful!" Fluttershy, who hadn't said a word all morning, stated as loud as she could muster, which wasn't very loud. 

"Hey kid, that's life for ya, if there wasn't any killin' we'd be out of a job," Soon they reached the old red brick print shop that made up the command post for the Confederate Military.  They walked up a short set of concrete steps and were let in by another MP, who led them through the radio room, which was abuzz with the clatter of telegraphs and ringing of radios,  and upstairs to a large open space separated by gray sheets and curtains like some sort of blanket fort.  They were led to the back of the floor to a conference room hidden behind yet another gray curtain.  Inside was a long table surrounded by metal folding chairs that sat empty and lit by a single bright propane lamp. 

"Just wait here, Governor Thatcher will be here in a few minutes," The policemen closed the curtain behind him, leaving the girls alone and in silence with only the low hiss of the lamp keeping them company.  The girls were shaken by a sudden bout of shouting from the floor above, then the slam of a door followed by more footsteps as someone let out a slew of curses.  The footsteps thundered down the stairs and drew closer, allowing them to finally hear what the person was actually saying:

"Those Goddamn savages, I'll string 'em up with rope myself if they lay one more foot across the border!" It was Thatcher he was furious. "I'll strangle the sons of bitches with my bare hands!" Thatcher yanked the curtain open, nearly pulling it from the cable holding it up.  He was about to spew out another string of curses when he saw Twilight and her friends sitting at the table.  He glared at them for a moment, rage flashing in his green eyes, he turned to whoever was with him and said: "Send the welp of a king... An ultimatum," Thatcher stated, his anger. "Tell him... Either he can keep his tribes under control... Or I will for him," Thatcher turned back to the girls, took a deep breath, and put a smile on his aging face. "Sorry 'bout that," he said in his regular tone of voice.  He sat at the head of the table across from Twilight at the opposite end, setting a manilla envelope on the table.

"So..." Twilight began awkwardly. "Can we uh..."

"Talk about that plane?" Thatcher asked. "We'll do it once Hughes gets in here, he was a lawyer for a while so he's gonna look over this little document of ours," he patted the folder.  A few minutes of awkward silence passed, Twilight twiddled her thumbs and Thatcher sat there with his hands folded, occasionally glancing at his watch.  Finally, after a good ten minutes had passed, Hughes slid open the curtain and stepped into the room, closing it behind him. "Good morning, Marshal Hughes," 

"Good morning, Governor Thatcher," Thatcher stood up and the two shook hands before Hughes took his seat next to Thatcher.  Thatcher handed Hughes the folder. 

"It's all yours, Saul Goodman," He said with a laugh.  Hughes took the folder, opened it up, and looked over its contents before closing it and handing standing up to hand it to Twilight.

"It's all yours, Princess," Twilight looked inside, finding only a short bit of text with a signature line beneath it and a colored photo of the aircraft in question clipped inside with it.  

"That's it?" Twilight asked rather shocked.

"Well of course," Thatcher answered "What'd ya expect?" 

"I was kind of hoping for like an alliance or something, maybe a bit more paperwork," Twilight exclaimed disappointed.

"I didn't think we'd need more than that, I mean you're here to talk about the plane right?  I didn't think we'd need a lot of fluff, all I want is my plane back," Thatcher scratched his chin "Although... We haven't got any real allies here yet... Hmm, I tell ya what, you sign that little document saying that we can come to get our plane back.  Then we can further discuss an alliance over breakfast.  What do ya think Hughes?"

"I think that's a great idea," Hughes answered grinning, Thatcher took a fountain pen from his pocket and reached over the table, handing it to Twilight, she quickly signed it and the group started to leave.  

"I say we avoid the mess hall," Thatcher stated as they exited the building "I ate breakfast there the other mornin' and I was coughin' my guts up all day,"

"Is that why you were in the infirmary?" Hughes asked as he started to laugh.

"I spent maybe an hour there, and that was just to get the pill," Thatcher answered with mild annoyance. "I spent the rest of the day in my office... Much to my dismay, I might add," 

"Where are we going?" Twilight asked the two.

"There's this new diner opened up by a family who moved here from Mesquite Texas, I hear it's a damn good place," Thatcher replied.  Before long they had finally made it, the diner wasn't too impressive, a simple brick corner building with bay windows.  The eight of them went inside, sitting down and splitting up among two four-person tables, and ordered their food. "Now that we're here," Thatcher began, he and Hughes sat with Twilight and Rarity, "You wanna talk more about this 'alliance' idea of yours?" 

"Well, heh, you kinda put me on the spot..." Twilight let out a nervous chuckle, Thatcher rubbed his face, muttering something in a foreign language out of frustration. 

"I reckon you didn't hear my little tangent earlier," Thatcher began leaning forward "I'm already pissed off, I don't need to be more pissed off," Twilight apologized profusely:

"Sorry... Uhm... Well, there's... Shoot!" 

"Take it, easy darling," Rarity said, entering the conversation.  

"Uh... How about this? You come to Equestria and speak to Princess Celestia about a more thorough alliance," Before Thatcher could answer their meals were placed in front of them.

"Thank you, ma'am," Thatcher said to the waitress before turning his attention back to Twilight. "That sounds good to me, I mean it beats sittin' in this... City... all day,"

"Honestly I wouldn't mind leavin' here too, this place is so damn... Bland," Hughes exclaimed as he started buttering up a biscuit.

"Yep," Thatcher said agreeing with Hughes as he poured some creamer packets into his coffee, stirring them with a spoon. "Now that we're through with that, how's about I tell you some tales from my time in the army?" Thatcher asked smiling before sipping from his coffee.

"Oh, Christ..." Hughes said, facepalming, Thatcher scratched his chin as he tried to remember one. 

"Ohohoh, I got one for ya, this 'un's got you in it, Eddie," Thatcher said laughing as he slapped Hughes on the arm. "So it was back in 2012, now this was when they just put me in the airborne and trained me up on how to drop out of a plane.  We were launchin' out of Argentina and were headin' to the Falklands to fight some Commies.  We were just 'bout to drop and let me tell ya it was cold, what month was it?" 

"March," Hughes answered.

"Right, March of 2012, as I said we were 'bout to jump, we've stood up and clipped our lines and checked our gear and I hear Hughes cry out from behind me 'Hey, I ain't got my belt!'," Thatcher tried his best to imitate Hughes, who was trying to hide the fact he was laughing. "Now ole Lieutenant Colonel Joe Iron Ass McMillan didn't give a shit cause right after we got the green light," Thatcher sipped from his coffee and leaned in dramatically. "So we all jump, our lines pull out, and our chutes open, it's pitch black outside, it's loud as fuck cause there's at least fifty planes and you rode in one so you know just how loud them sumbitches are.  So I'm cruisin' slowly to the ground with the rest of the boys when I catch somethin' fall past us out of the corner of my eye and I mean zoomin' down. Now everybody's confused, 'cause we're thinkin' one of our boys got shot down.  Now that don't make sense cause there ain't any Commies in the area, so we think chute failure. Well, we get to the ground, kinda freakin' out 'cause we don't know who just fell and our medic goes to check. 'They're just pants!' The medic shouts, now we're confused 'cause who the hell just lost their pants? Well, not a minute later ole Eddie Hughes lands right with us in his damn skivvies, shiverin' in the cold," The two men burst out laughing, luckily the diner was mostly empty.  Rainbow Dash started snickering before eventually joining in on the laughing fit.

"Oh, that reminds me of the time during training when this one guy called Spring Pollen had a fuel line in his plane burst and somehow get all over his cockpit," Rainbow Dash was still laughing "And of course, in his infinite wisdom, he had lit a cigarette in the cockpit,"

"Which is against Regulation?" Thatcher asked, smiling like a child.

"Yep, and while he was freakin' out he got some ash on his pants and they lit! He's lucky he hadn't even started movin' yet 'cause he jumped out his plane and started dancin' like crazy until he got his pants off!" The three laughed vigorously, Applejack and Pinkie Pie joining in on it. 

"Oh hell, I remember when I was trainin' back in the 90s and there was this one feller who kept disobeying the sergeant," Thatcher began "Well, the sergeant finally had enough when he shot his gun off right next to his ear during a firing drill. I'll never forget the sight of that short old man cupping his bleeding ear and shouting every imaginable swear he could at that private," The barrel of laughs went on forever until Thatcher's finally turned to a heavy coughing fit.  Soon they were all finished and were sent back to their boarding house to pack their things for their return to Equestria.  They met Thatcher at the landing strip sometime later, he and his top officers had gathered near a plane that matched the one the six had ridden in on in all except the color.  Rather than forest green it was sort of off-white color.

"Oh dear, I'm not flying in one of those again..." Rarity exclaimed distraught as they saw the plane.

"Don't be afraid, now," Thatcher said as he met the girls just before they reached their flight "This 'un here's made for flyin' passengers, it'll be a smooth and quiet ride to Memphis I guarantee it," 

"Well that does sound much better," Rarity responded with a sense of relief.  The girls started boarding, finding its interior made up of rows of cushioned wicker chairs rather than springy metal seats.  Hughes boarded with them, Thatcher sticking his head in behind him.

"It's a damned shame to see y'all off so soon, but tell the ole Princess we'll be there within a week," Thatcher exclaimed.

"Don't worry," Twilight began. "We will," The girls settled in and the plane started off, its roaring radial engines muffled by the less bare interior.  Hours later the plane landed in Memphis and the girls offloaded themselves and started down to the dock.  Hughes sent the girls off as they boarded their plane, fueled and loaded to return.  Twilight remained on the dock with Hughes "Thank you... F-for the hospitality, your people are kind,"

"Oh, you're welcome, Princess Twilight, it was a pleasure havin' y'all and I hope to see y'all again soon," The two waved and Twilight turned to board, when she did she caught a glimpse of the battleship that had been moored in the port days prior.  The beast slowly rolled by going north, the ship had been huge from above, but on the ground, it was a much more menacing sight.  Twilight boarded the plane and they were soon back off to Equestria.
> First of Many
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

April 10th
Canterlot, Principality of Equestria

"I don't know if we could really compete with them," Field Marshal Shining Armor stated in a somewhat frantic manner as he walked alongside Field Marshal Sunset Shimmer down the dark halls of Canterlot's White Palace, their boots echoing on the hard floor. "If they are truly as advanced as Twilight said they were then it would be a sure chance of losing,"

"That's why we need to form an alliance with them," Sunset responded with her calm and collected tone. "I received news from the garrisons near Vanhoover, supposedly they saw tanks near the border with the Republics," 

"Just what we need, this and Stalliongrad," Shining armor let out a quiet curse. "Where did we go wrong? Near a thousand years of peace and it's all falling apart,"

"It's been falling for some time now, you know this," Sunset stated "There was the Civil War in the south right before Celestia took power... And what a mess that was, her biggest mistake was promising there 'Would be no more wars on Equestrian soil.'," Sunset reached up and rubbed the scar near her eye. "What a lie that was," She remembered her time in New Equestria and the fights with the natives that had given her that scar.

"And then she just gave the Markists Severyana," Shining Armor said with an heir of disdain in his voice.  A mere eight years ago, Princess Celestia handed Severyana to the Markist Communists after a brief fight had broken out, one in which he took part.  Shining Armor was an experienced soldier, he had fought with his father during the Civil War and had been to New Equestria the same as Sunset Shimmer.  They soon reached their destination, a balcony overlooking the city of Canterlot as it sat dark and empty beneath them.  She leaned on the metal guardrail, letting the cool breeze blow through her fiery braided hair.  

"Equestria isn't ready for war," She finally said. "We just aren't..."

"Perhaps these 'Confederates', as they call themselves, could be of use in that regard," Shining Armor began. "Maybe, we can get their support, a guarantee of independence could, perhaps, be in order,"

"I tried talking to her about that," Sunset responded sounding defeated. "She's very adamant about peace and harmony across Equestria," 

"Have you talked to Princess Luna about it?"

"No... She's ill again, and this time it's worse than usual. She's in no position to be making these decisions," Sunset let out a sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Maybe they'll convince Celestia to support it.  With our luck, they'll be just the same as her,"

"From what Twilight described, these people seem to have some sort of an obsession with war," Shining armor told Sunset “She says she managed to get her hands on some music from their world.  It was something by a band called Sabaton if you could even understand the words you would find them to be quite disturbing,"

"Still, they could be the answer to keeping this country alive, it seems we lack allies with any real military forces to support us,"

"The whole of the west seems to be edging toward peace, at least that's what Celestia wants to believe," Shining Armor certainly had his doubts.

"I feel it's best we stop talking about this for now," Sunset began. "The Confederates will be here in the morning, it appears they rode the train from Cloudsdale,"

"Yes, we shall continue this in the morning,"

April 11th
Canterlot, Principality of Equestria

The morning sun had risen over Canterlot's grand rail station as the black steam engine rolled in, hauling its dark green carriages behind.  The brakes let out a devilish squeal as it slowed to a halt at the station platform, news reporters and photographers gathered around the train as they awaited its long-awaited passengers.  Instead, they were greeted by men dressed in green exiting from the rear to push the gathering paparazzi away from the train with their bayonetted rifles.  

Finally, after what seemed like hours the passengers finally exited, three men of varying ages and sizes stepped out from the confines of a finely decorated coach at the train's center.  All men donned the same matte gray officer's suits, bearing medals and cords from years of service, and carried straight sabers at their hips.  Flashbulbs popped and film cameras recorded the monumental event happening before them.  

Trailing behind the men were more guards, these men were escorting a station cart loaded with the luggage of the officers.  They made their way down the station platform and out of the station, guards shielding them the whole way.  Waiting for them in front of the art deco train sat two white and gold limousines, standing outside of these two limousines were their drivers wearing matching white and gold suits.

"Are you Military Governor Thatcher?" One of the drivers asked as they approached.

"Yes sir," The tallest and most imposing of the group answered. The driver nodded and opened the door, allowing him and the oldest of the group to squeeze inside, the other one was let into the limo at the rear, two guards climbing into each one.

"Don't worry, your luggage will be taken to the palace," The driver said as he climbed into the limo.  The small Convoy started off, heading toward the grand white palace perched on a mountain at the city's edge.  They drove down the broad main streets of the city, allowing all of its denizens to gawk at the aliens hidden away in the alabaster limousines.  Before long the limos arrived at the palace, crossing a drawbridge and passing under a steel portcullis and into a surprisingly modest courtyard.  There stood two officers to greet them, both donning well-decorated dark gray uniforms adorned by medals and cords much like the foreigners.

The drivers parked the cars and stepped out, opening the doors castle's guests, out stepped the soldiers, still wielding their heavy battle rifles, followed by the foreigners.  A tall man built like a mountain, an old man hobbling on a cane, and a short man who was equally built like a mountain.  They sauntered over to the awaiting Equestrian officers, taking in the scenery around them.  Once reaching their Equestrian officers they each stood at attention, giving a quick salute before breaking.

"Mornin'," The tallest greeted with his smooth voice a toothy smile showing his lightly yellow teeth from years of smoking. "Who might y'all be?"

"I am Field Marshal Sunset Shimmer," The fiery-haired female officer answered.

"And I am Field Marshal Shining Armor," The blue-haired male officer answered.

"Well it's a right and fine pleasure to meet y'all," He shook their hands. "This old feller here's Field Marshal Jedediah Clemson,"

"It's good meetin' ya," The oldest one greeted in an old smoke-choked voice, a near toothless smile behind his thick white beard.

"And that short feller's Field Marshal Robert Crawford," The shortest of the bunch moved up to shake their hands. 

"It's nice meetin' y'all," He greeted in a deep rumbling voice, both he and the tallest resembled one another, though Crawford looked much younger with his beard still mostly black, and hair still on his head.

"And of course, I'm Military Governor Aaron Thatcher," The largest finally said. "I spoke with some of your officials earlier in the month," Thatcher looked around at the glistening white palace with its rich colors and elegant decorations. "I'll just say, this place looks a hell of a lot better than New Richmond, it's nice to see something other than piles of concrete for once. Now, Marshal Shimmer, Marshal Armor, when do we get to meet this Princess Celestia?" 

"I'm afraid she's... Busy right now... You won't be able to talk with her until later this afternoon," Sunset spoke in an apologetic manner. "But... In the meantime-" She was cut off by a flat-nose army truck pulling into the courtyard. "Ah, that must be the luggage, I guess we can go to your quarters then,"

"Good, it'd feel nice to sleep on something that ain't movin' for once," Thatcher responded.  They made their way down the gorgeous halls of the castle, all five of them along with Thatcher's guards and a set of servants hauling their luggage.  Before long they found themselves in another finely made hallway lined with doors, stopping at one.  Thatcher opened it to find one of the most regal bed-chambers he had ever come across.  At the center was a king-sized bed surrounded by a blue curtain, concealing it.  To the right of the bed was a finely carved oak roller desk, closed for the time being, and to the left and across the room was a long oak dresser, as fine as the desk. "Nice place y'all got here," Thatcher said as he stepped into the room, the servants following behind him. "Just sit my stuff on the bed," He directed, pointing to the bed at the room's center.  The servants did so before leaving the room.

"Governor Thatcher," Thatcher turned to find Marshal Shimmer standing in the doorway.

"Oh it's you," Thatcher said, opening one of his bags. "What might you need?" He pulled a brown leather case from within his bag.

“We need you to come to the conference room at the end of the hall, there’s… Something important we need to discuss,”

“Sure thing, Marshal, just gimme a sec,” he opened the case and pulled out a long cigar with a green and gold band wrapped around it. “You see this cigar right here, Marshal?” He asked, holding the long stick of tobacco in his large hand.

“Yes sir,” Sunset answered

"This here's a Dixieland King, made by the Old Virginia Cigar Company. They ain't made these in more than thirty years, I bought a ten-pack off a tobacconist in Hattiesburg Mississippi fifteen years ago and I've only smoked one since then," He stuck the cigar in his mouth and pulled out a large silver lighter, flipping it open and lighting the thick cigar in a cloud of smoke.  Both he and Sunset left the chamber, the cigar hanging out of Thatcher's mouth. “So,” he began, pulling the cigar out. “What do y’all believe in?” He asked as they walked.

"What do you mean, exactly?" Sunset asked confused by the question.

"Like gods and such, what do y'all believe in that regard?"

"It's a fair bit complicated," Sunset began. "We believe that one thousand years ago two magical sisters, named Celestia and Luna, united Equestria by raising the sun and the moon.  Now, every princess of Equestria are descendant of the two of them,"

"That ain't complicated," Thatcher said, strolling along. "There's still a debate as to whether or not our guy is God in human form or the Son of God. Personally, I'm for the God in human form belief," They finally reached the conference room, it was fairly simple, a long wooden table surrounded by wooden swivel chairs.  The walls were blue and a chandelier hung overhead, Clemson, Crawford, and Shining Armor was already situated there.  Thatcher sat down next to Clemson, the chair groaning under his weight. “So why are we here?” Thatcher asked Sunset as she sat down across from him.  She let out a sigh.

“Listen,” She began “Me and Shining Armor have a proposal,” She reached into her great pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

“Now what’s this?” Thatcher asked as he pulled his glasses from his pocket. 

“Our proposal,” Sunset answered. “A guarantee of independent for Equestria,” Thatcher read over the handwritten words at a racer's pace before passing it to Clemson, who also had his glasses out. 

“What do you think?” Thatcher asked.  Clemson read over it at a slower pace before passing it over to Crawford.

"I think I see a lot for them, and not a lot for us," Clemson stated.

"My thoughts exactly," Thatcher turned to the two officers, his brow lowered "What's in it for us?" He asked in a menacing monotone voice.

"Uhm... It's... Up to you," Sunset stuttered out, seeming unprepared for that question.  Thatcher stared at her with a look that said: are you serious?

"Do you mind explainin' to me why you can't give the proposal to her?"

"Well... I'm just gonna lay it straight for you, Princess Celestia is such a pacifist that she refuses such military alliances and won't listen to us. If you proposed it to her yourself then she might listen to you.,"

"Well, if ya ask me, pacifists shouldn't run a country, if you're afraid to fight then you'll be crushed under the boot of your enemy. Alright, bring us some paper and leave us here. We'd like to do this in private," Sunset grabbed some paper from a cabinet in the corner of the room, setting it before the men and leaving with Shining Armor in tow.  The two sat on a bench in the hall outside, Sunset checking her watch periodically until around two hours had passed.  Finally, the door opened and Thatcher stuck his head through to ask "Where's the stamp ink?" 

"Top drawer of the cabinet," Sunset answered.

"Thank ya very much," He shut the door again and emerged a moment later with his comrades in tow, a neatly folded piece of paper in his hand, with an ink stamp depicting a man on horseback marking it.  "Alright, Marshal Armor, Marshal Shimmer, this right here is our proposal to Princess Celestia," He held up the folded piece of paper. "It's still got your little guarantee of independence with a little sugar and spice to make it work for us," The group turned around and returned to their respective rooms until Celestia finally arrived.  

When she was finally ready to meet with the Confederate diplomats, it was almost sundown, the glow of the western sun flattering through the palace's windows like columns of fiery guardsmen.  Thatcher was in his room, sitting at his desk with a cigar, one of a less lucrative brand.  He sat reading a copy of War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy, a glass of Ameretto on the desk.  He was alerted by a knock at the door.

"Come in!" He called back, and in stepped Field Marshal Sunset Shimmer. "Ah, Marshal Shimmer, I was just readin' War and Peace, the French version," He said. "What's the good word?" He asked, setting the cigar in his ashtray. 

"Princess Celestia is ready to see you now," She answered.

"Ah good, I was startin' to think she was never gonna be ready," He set his book down and got up, downing his drink and straightening his suit before reaching into one of the desk drawers and pulling out the proposal before stuffing it neatly into his pocket.  The two stepped into the hallway, joining the other Equestrian Marshal and Thatcher's group before making their way to the throne room.  They reached the throneroom, a wide and tall room with blue walls and tall stained glass windows showing the history of Equestria in its murals.  At the far western end of the room sat four golden thrones, only two were filled.

Sitting on the throne second from the right and facing the door was a woman with long hair of many colors, from pinks to greens and blues, wearing a long white dress that reminded Thatcher of the ones worn by Greek women in the days of old.  Ones that he had read about in his immense historical library.  Sitting on the far left with another throne between them was Princess Twilight Sparkle, wearing a long purple and violet dress with her braided.  With that information, Thatcher and his marshals deduced that Princess Celestia was the one dressed in white.

"Good evening, Military Governor Thatcher, Field Marshal Clemson, and Field Marshal Crawford," Princess Celestia greeted from her throne in an elegant and regal voice, a warm and royal smile on her face.  

"Good evenin' to you, Princess," Thatcher returned, bowing before her, the other men bowed before her as well.  Thatcher came back up, looking around the room and finding guards dressed in golden armor like Spartans and carrying long lances.  Thatcher found it odd that the men tasked with protecting the leader of a nation wouldn't carry a firearm.  Even when his men didn't have their rifles they at least carried the standard issue 10mm pistol.  "I have a proposal," Thatcher began "If I may speak,"

"You may speak,"

"Thank you, Princess," Thatcher said, before pulling out the note and walking over to Princess Celestia, handing it to her. "This is the proposal I and my officers drafted for you, it basically says that we give you a guarantee of independence one exchange for relaxed tariffs on steel and oil. See, before we came along ole Tzarovicka was receiving all of its steel from your communist neighbor, now that we're here they won't even look at us. We don't exactly have a lot of iron, sadly, and it would be much cheaper than just pulling it from Earth.  What do ya say?"  Princess Celestia looked over the paper.

"I think..." She said, unable to formulate an answer.

"Ya know, a guarantee of independence means nothin' more than if someone tries to invade ya we'll send in our boys to help.  All in exchange for a little bit of oil and steel... Oh! And allowin' our folks to come here and preach a little,"

"Hmm... What do you think Twilight Sparkle?"

"I think it sounds like a great idea," Twilight responded confidently.

"Nice to see someone agreein' with us," Thatcher said with a smile. "So, what do ya say, Princess? Do we have a deal?"

"I believe... It would be in our best interest if we... Agreed to this guarantee," Celestia answered anxiously.

"Good deal!" Thatcher exclaimed triumphantly, extending his hand toward the princess. "Seal it with a handshake? It's a Confederate tradition," Celestia extended her hand, meeting Thatcher's with a royal handshake that sealed their alliance.

Later in the evening, after the sun had sunk below the horizon and cast the city in the glow of the moon and stars.  Celestia and Thatcher, along with his group and her six fine diplomats and two field marshals, had settled down for a fine dinner.  Thatcher found himself with the kind diplomats yet again, they were an enjoyable bunch to him.  They sat at a table covered by a long white cloth with a throne at either end and utensils lined up before every occupant.  

Celestia, who had been absent for some ten minutes, entered the dining room with another young lady in tow.  Thatcher had not met this one, she was excited, to say the least with red hair in a ponytail and glasses that much resembled Princess Twilight, she wore a suit with an odd plaid skirt. 

"Well, who might this be?" Thatcher asked as they approached the table. 

"This is Red Inkwell, she's been assigned as your ambassador," Princess Celestia answered, gesturing to the smiling girl.

"Ambassador? She's awful young," Thatcher responded, sipping from the glass of amaretto before him. "Personally, I wouldn't send nobody under forty for the job, but I reckon she'll do a good job," Princess Celestia took her seat at the head of the table, and Red took her seat across from Thatcher, seemingly enamored by the sight of the officers.   The food was brought out on carts by finely dressed servants and placed before the diners, all but Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash being given large T-bone steaks alongside baked potatoes. "This here's a mighty fine meal, Princess, but before we begin I'd like to say a word of grace," He stood up. "If you'd all bow your heads I'll begin," The whole table bowed their heads. "Our Father, who art in Heaven, thank you for blessin' us with a safe journey across the ocean and on the rails to this unfamiliar nation. Thank you for the meal you have set before us and let it be nourishment to our bodies so that we may better serve you, dear Lord, Amen,"

"Amen," Clemson exclaimed.

"Amen," Crawford exclaimed, and they all started eating. 

"The college season's startin' up real soon," Thatcher began as he started mixing up the potato on his plate. "Who y'all got this season?"

"I reckon I'll root for the Longhorns this year," Clemson stated "Switch it up a little bit,"

"I'm goin' Alabama," Crawford said.

"I reckon Hughes is doin' the same, y'all already know what I'm doin'," Thatcher smiled.

"Ole Miss Rebels, same every year," Crawford responded.

"Yes sir! Don't matter how their season is, I'm gonna shout 'Hotty Toddy' all damn season," Thatcher took a bite from his meal.

"Excuse me, but what are y'all talking about?" Twilight asked in a curious manner.

"Football!" Thatcher stated loudly "College football to be precise, no greater sport has ever been conceived," Thatcher proudly said "Hell I played myself,"

"Football? Is that the game with the egg-shaped ball and all the people smashing into each other?" 

"Yes ma'am, though I'm insulted you'd describe it like that," Twilight blushed with embarrassment at his remark. "Don't sweat it, kid," He chuckled. "I'm just yankin' your chain,"

"Our fine national university here in Canterlot has a football team, Governor Thatcher," Princess Celestia said.

"Well maybe we should get together and play a game," Thatcher responded "Get Ole Miss out here and show you how Mississippi plays football,"

"I'd rather Virginia State," Clemson said taking a bite from his steak.

"The only reason you say that is cause you're from Virginia, remind me when y'all last had a winning season. I think you were still a private in the Confederate States Army," Thatcher remarked on Clemson's age.  Clemson grumbled and angrily said:

"I may be old, but I could still whoop your ass," He held up a steak knife and turned himself in his chair, putting it less than an inch from Thatcher's face. 

"It'd be the first time Virginia beat Mississippi," Both Thatcher and Crawford started to laugh, Clemson eventually joining in and leaving some of the occupants at the table unnerved.  "Oh this guy here, a real hardass half the time and a joker the rest," They all continued eating in silence, Thatcher and his group still chuckling quietly.  This went on until the door to the dining room swung open and in stepped a green-dressed Confederate Soldier, shocking the whole gathering with his out-of-place appearance.  He went over to Thatcher and quietly said:

"Sir, you've got a call from New Richmond, sir,"

"Can't it wait?" Thatcher asked with mild annoyance, gesturing to the meal before him. 

"Hughes says it's urgent, sir," Thatcher let out a sigh before quickly standing up.

"Might I be excused?" He asked "There's urgent business from New Richmond,"

"Of course," Princess Celestia answered.  Thatcher nodded and left the room with his guard, leaving the others to go about their meals unhindered.  Some minutes later Thatcher returned to the room, his face pale and angered with his downturned brow and flat expression.  He sat down at the table, pushing his meal away and folding his hands in prayer. "What is it, Governor?" Princess Celestia asked, Thatcher, drew in a sharp breath.

"I'd rather... I and my men discuss it," He said his voice trembling.

"Nonsense," Princess Celestia stated warmly. "Whatever it is, I'm sure we can help," 

"Fine..." Thatcher let out a hard sigh. "There was... Another attack, this time on a small town called New Bethlehem," The table's occupants gasped in unison. "That ain't all... They burned the whole place down," His voice shook, and the beast of a man leaned on the table like a horrified child. "The soldiers responding to the attack over the radio found the whole population in the church... Those Goddamn savages burned the whole congregation alive," The table's occupants started murmuring amongst themselves, both Crawford and Clemson took their hats off and bowed their heads in prayer. "Then they took the preacher and strung him up on the cross outside by the neck... Strangling him and leaving him to die..." That one detail was enough to send the timid and sensitive Fluttershy, who already had tears welling up in her sympathetic eyes, over the edge.  She burst into tears at the table, it was no surprise as it seemed the tough-looking Confederate officers might do the same.  Rainbow Dash took her out of the room to calm her down.

"Oh my... I-is there anything at all we can do to help?" Princess Celestia asked horrified. "Perhaps peace talks-"

"Spare me the talks of peace, these savages have used up the last of my mercy, I sent their king an ultimatum and he didn't act on it.  That bastard better hope his kingdom can survive an army of pissed-off southerners," With that, Thatcher and his men stood up. "I bid you goodnight," He said, his voice turned to one of pure rage and spite and stormed out of the room, his officers in tow.
> The Future of Equus
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

April 12th
Canterlot, Principality of Equestria

It was raining in Canterlot that day, the roaring rush of water from the sky flowed down the palace's windows.  Lightning struck across the sky like jagged scars and thunder cracked like cannons.  Sleep had not found its home in the castle that night, at the long table that had held the previous night's dinner Princess Celestia and her guests were gathered.  Thatcher arrived looking oddly rested and fully dressed in a less decorated suit, taking his place at the table alone.

"Mornin'," He greeted, looking at all the tired faces around him. "I need some coffee," He said looking around the table.  A servant sat a small silver cup of black coffee before him.  Thatcher drank from the cup and leaned back in his chair. "So it's official,"

"What's official?" Twilight asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"War," Thatcher exclaimed, sounding almost excited. "We're goin' to war with North Zebrica, mobilization has already begun," Fluttershy dropped her spoon into the bowl of oatmeal she had been eating from, her eyes wide in horror.

"That fast?" Rainbow Dash asked shocked, ignoring Fluttershy.

"Yes ma'am, we'd been ready to go to war with them for some time," He sipped from his coffee. "We had garrisons in Lubbock and New Galveston, we'd already gotten three battalions of air cav on standby," 

"Air cav?"

"They're infantry that flies in them helicopters I showed y'all. They go in, kill their enemies, and get the hell out, I was in there myself for a while," Thatcher smiled. "After my first drop in Venezuela they pulled me out of the airborne and put me in the cavalry, it wasn't near as fun," As he said that, four more people joined them, it was all of the field marshals.  Crawford, Clemson, Shimmer, and Armor made their way in and sat down at the table, Clemson and Crawford barely awake.  "We spent all night on the phone with New Richmond determinin' how the war was gonna play out,"

"It's a damned helicopter war," Clemson stated, leaning wearily on his arm, Fluttershy lurched lightly in her seat.  No one saw this as they were all focused on Thatcher.

"Yep," Thatcher replied sounding disheartened. "Which is a damn shame,"

"Why's that?" Sunset Shimmer asked, she too was well rested.

"A helicopter war is gonna slow us down, we can't just move in and roll 'em over. Now we gotta do a little touch and go, drop our boys in, let 'em kill the bad guys, and pull 'em out. It'll slow us the hell down," Thatcher sipped from the near-empty cup of coffee in his hand. "It's a pain in the ass for logistics," 

"Get me some damned coffee," Clemson ordered to whoever was listening, Crawford fell onto the table asleep, and Thatcher facepalmed.

"Christ alive, that's pitiful," Thatcher took his cap off and reached across the table, slapping Crawford's head with it. "Wake up Sleepin' Beauty, you'll miss breakfast," Crawford stirred awake, sitting up and blinking his eyes in a confused way. 

"Where the fuck am I?" he asked.

"Vicksburg Mississippi, we're about to beat back Grant... We're in Canterlot, you knucklehead," Thatcher took a final sip from his coffee. "I need more coffee, and something to eat," A servant passed him by to bring Clemson his coffee. "Hey, butler, two more cups of coffee and three plates of pancakes," The servant nodded and left for the kitchen. "Helicopters are only part of the equation," Thatcher began as he steered back toward the new war in North Zebrica. "There are the warplanes," Fluttershy tensed up in her seat. "Ever heard of napalm?" The table shared a collective nod. "It's like gasoline, but it's a jelly, and we drop it in canisters off of airplanes to burn things up. We also put it in flamethrowers," Thatcher chuckled. "War... It's a business,"

"Yes sir," Clemson said in agreeance.

"Stop... Please," Fluttershy said in her usual quiet manner.

"You say somethin', Ma'am?" Thatcher asked, just barely picking up her comment.

"C-could you please stop... saying that word?" Her breath was picking up.

"Which word would that be, ms?"

"W... War..." She timidly said, she quickly stood up. "Rainbow Dash, I think we need to go," Rainbow Dash stood up alongside her and grabbed her hand, walking with her outside of the dining area to the hallway.  

"Shellshock," Thatcher said as the two left. "Or some variant of it,"

"How'd you know?" Twilight, who had stayed silent, asked.

"It's pretty easy, words triggerin' her like that, quickened breathin', she's got it," Thatcher turned to his men. "She don't look the type to have been fightin' though, I assume somethin' else got her like that, but I ain't gonna keep pushin' it," The servants entered the room through the same door as the two vacant guests carrying plates of pancakes and cups with a pot of coffee. "Thank you sirs," Thatcher thanked as their meals were sat before them.  They prepared their food and dug in. "This is some damn fine food," Thatcher said before taking another bite of it. "It's a damned shame we gotta leave so soon,"

"Yes, it truly is a... Shame that the three of you must go," Princess Celestia said sympathetically.

"Yep, it's a fine country y'all have here, Princess, hell it's almost as Beautiful as the Old World. Nothin' quite beats the vast cotton and tobacco fields of Mississippi," 

"There's big tobacco fields down south, ya know," Applejack interjected, Thatcher was taken aback by her accent, he didn't quite recall hearing her speak. "Down there in Rockville it's nothin' but tobacco fields,"

"Well I might have to check that out next time we're over here, but in the meantime, we got more important things to deal with than tobacco fields," 

"Speaking of those things," Sunset Shimmer began, Thatcher, turning to face her just across the table. "If I may speak, Princess Celestia, I have a proposal for Military Governor Thatcher,"

"You may speak, Field Marshal Shimmer," Princess Celestia said.

"Very well, Governor Thatcher I wish to accompany you and your men back to Dixie to observe your army's actions in North Zebrica,"

"I don't see a reason why we can't do that, it might be good to have some new eyes see how the army works, and those eyes not be the enemies," Thatcher responded.

"Sounds like a good idea to me," Clemson said, with Crawford nodding in agreeance.  They all then turned to face Princess Celestia at the head of the table.

"She's your soldier, Princess, you gotta sign off on this," Thatcher said.  Princess Celestia thought for a moment, running over her options before finally answering.

"Alright then, Field Marshal Shimmer, I give you permission to go to Dixie to observe the Confederate Army in action," 

"Thank you, Princess Celestia," Sunset Shimmer thanked, bowing her head in acknowledgment.

"Very well, we shall leave at 1500 hours," Thatcher proclaimed. "Now find Ms. Inkwell and we will begin to pack,"

April 13th
Border of North Zebrica

The sun crept up the horizon, putting a faint glow on the tall M503 Self Propelled Guns as they sat silently, hidden under mounds of faux shrubbery in the tall southern grass.  The bugler stood firm with his rifle slung over his shoulder and his jungle hat hanging off the back of his neck.  He took a look at his army-issue roller watch, 0559 it read in luminant numbers.  He watched it for some thirty seconds until it rolled over, now reading 0600.

He stuck the olive drab M1950 bugle to his lips and played the long and cheerful To Horse call, a sound that meant something different in the age of modern warfare.  Jumping up from dugouts hidden in the grass came men dressed the same as him, running to the emplaced SPGs and opening their rear hatches.  The commands were called:

"105 Mike Mike, high explosive, two-pound charge!" Men ran to bunkers that had been packed with shells and charges, running back to the guns with the long shells and green bags of cordite in hand.

"Run it coordinates 2 3 5 6 8 9, 1 4 2 6 6 7!" The guns were raised and turned in the ordered direction. 

"Load guns!" The breech of the gun was opened and the shell was jammed in, being rammed up by a man with a ramrod, the charge rammed in behind.  The breech was closed and locked, and the pull cord was clipped around the trigger at the end.

"Fire!" The gunners pulled their cords and the guns fired, lighting the dim morning like it was midday as they rammed back into the hulls.  The orders were repeated as the guns were reloaded and fired over and over again, going on until the air was filled with the haze of artillery smoke and the pungent scent of burned cordite.  They fired until 0700 when the order came over the radio to cease their bombardment, then the invasion properly began.

Roaring over the border came fleets of Eagle transport choppers and their air cavalry soldiers.  Rolling behind them were the Cougar battle tanks of the 6th Armored Battalion.  They lead six-ton trucks and half-track heavy weapons platforms, with the artillery soon loading up and following suit.  The air that had once been filled with the boom of guns was now filled with the roar of chopper blades and diesel engines the mighty Confederate Army charged toward North Zebrica in a mighty armored wall.  

They crossed the border, breaking down the barricades of the few roads leading into the country.  What few border personnel that survived the horrific bombardment had either fled or were hiding in the shell craters in hopes of ambushing the armored columns.  They were gunned down by a mix of gunfire from the choppers and machine gun fire from the other vehicles leading the invasion.  The tanks and half-tracks crossed the cratered and uncivilized land like nothing, their crossed battle flags whipping in the wind.

They went on unheeded for some time until meeting a village heavily garrisoned.  Armored cars tried to halt their advance but were cut down by the tank's destructive shells.  The 6th Battalion halted at the village, their commander, Lieutenant Colonel Harold Whitworth, stuck his head up from the commander cupola of his tank with an olive-drab field phone in his hand.

"Trojan 1 this is Alpha 6, we've reached objective Zulu, awaiting further instructions," He said in his rough voice as more choppers roared overhead.
> The Rising Storm
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

April 16th
Fort Ironside, Kingdom of North Zebrica

Field Marshal Sunset Shimmer had flown more in the past two days than in her entire life.  A day's ride from Canterlot to Cloudsdale followed by a day-long flight to New Richmond on a luxurious airliner was now being followed up by her final flight.  This one was upon the amazing M88 Airliner, a slightly more comfortable military trimotor transport is all it was.  With her were only three others, two soldiers and Field Marshal Jedediah Clemson who had ditched his coat and was just wearing his short sleeve dress shirt with a tan slouch hat with its left side pinned up.  

She was dressed in a similar manner, though she had elected to keep her cap, it seemed these earthbound humans were overly susceptible to sunburn.  Unlike those from Equestria, who were no strangers to it themselves, it seemed a couple of hours under the sun was enough for many to have their skin turn red and tender like cooked meat.  

"We're comin' in for a landin' y'all," The pilot said over the intercom moments before the plane touched down on the hastily dug dirt landing strip on its fat wheels.  The plane slowed to a halt and its rattling radial engines silenced, and the passengers departed the plane, stepping into the blistering North Zebrica heat.  The bright light and horrible heat hit Sunset as if she had just stepped into a blast furnace.  The landing strip sat at the edge of the hastily built fort, lined mostly by green camouflaged trimotors of a matching design. 

On the opposite side of the plane was the fort, trenches, and towers surrounding tents and dugouts mixed with traditional huts of a North Zebrican design with tanks and other armored vehicles parked all about it.  Clemson and Sunset rounded the plane and made their way to the fort, passing through the gate unimpeded and walking about until they reached the large tent at the fort's center, marked by the Confederate stars and bars and battle flag flicking in the wind on a pole outside.  

The two guards outside, dressed in khaki fatigues and jungle hats, stood at attention as Clemson hobbled up.  Clemson gave them a left-handed salute and they entered the tent through the out-of-place wooden door with 4th Legion painted on its face.  The door slammed behind the two from spring tension.  The two khaki-dressed officers inside turned to face the two, giving salutes.

"At ease gentlemen," Clemson said, giving his own salute. The men returned to what they were doing, they surrounded a round table with a map of North Zebrica spread out on top.  Clemson and Sunset went over to the table, Clemson leaning his cane against the table and resting his hands on it.  He turned to Sunset, who stood with her hands behind her back. "Oh gentlemen, I forgot to mention," He gestured to Sunset "This is Field Marshal Sunset Shimmer of the Royal Equestrian Army," The two officers saluted her. "And, Marshal Shimmer, this is General John Everett," Clemson gestured to a middle-aged man with a brown beard and round glasses, who saluted. "And this is General Samuel Lawrence," Clemson gestured to an equally middle-aged man with a bare face, who also saluted.  Sunset returned their salutes.

"Gentlemen," She said, ending her salute with the others.

"She's here to observe our command and our men in action," Clemson finished "Now, gentlemen, what's the good word?"

"We've pushed their regulars back to here," Everett began, pointing to a spot on the map marked Hill A3-034. "Observation planes show that they've dug themselves in with barb wire and several lines,"

"All that in three days?" Clemson asked shocked.

"Yes sir, though they're hastily prepared according to the pilots, not near the level of traditional hard trench lines, and they're only about fifty miles across and narrow,"

"They'll still be tough to crack, let's hope to God it doesn't turn into another stalemate, at least not on the level of the last war we fought," Clemson seemed frustrated hearing about the trenches, Confederate experience with trench warfare was not the best.  Grueling stalemates and meat grinders of battles were commonplace in the great wars of the last century on Earth. "I am surprised, I must say, I was expecting much more tribal resistance. I guess the rumors are true, the army's just enlisted tribesmen," Clemson laughed. 

"Yes sir, we can roll right over 'em," Everett exclaimed smirking.  "But the east is another story, sadly, they're having a bit more trouble," Everett pointed to the east where the country border Tobruk, a larger kingdom between North Zebrica and Saddle Arabia. "They've taken the north but they're meeting harsh resistance a bit closer to home than we are,"

"It's a damned shame, but as long as the west can keep rolling we can get the coast and move on the capital in five weeks' time," Clemson grinned with some sort of satisfaction.

April 16th
Hill A3-034

South of Fort Ironside was a forest of tall southern pines.  One the edge was where the 4th North Zebrican Army had dug in, lines of narrow trenches with wooden stakes as their main form of ant infantry defense in lew of barbwire.  There were four lines expanding over three miles unsupported as the artillery was stuck south of the Traat River.  The lines were lined by all manner of guns that could be gathered by the hastily assembled army.  

Water-cooled heavies, old mag-fed lights, rifles of all kinds from fairly modern self-loaders to even black powder breechloaders.  The hastily assembled army was supposed to be dressed in olive drab uniforms but most wore whatever clothes they could get, many wearing traditional tribal clothing or civilian clothing.  They were standing guard, lining the trenches with guns in hand in preparation for their approaching enemy.

The men were tired from a long march and a day's work of preparation, but their hearts burned with a patriotic fire to protect their homeland from the invaders.  Among these soldiers was Isra, she was younger than many of the soldiers there and a fair bit shorter too.  She carried her father's old breechloader with as many bullets as she could find tucked in a leather bandolier thrown over her torso.  The rifle was heavy and long, the wood was splintering and chipped and the barrel was rusted.

She was out of place, with almost no training say for the few times her father had let her use the rifle and little preparation for it all.  She was not a soldier by any means, she had not even informed her family of her departure.  She tried not to think about how distraught her mother was right now.  She kept her focus on the tree line ahead, tall pine trees more often found in Equestria yet moved here by colonists generations ago.

They were towering, extending into the sky like tall spiked spears, their scent wafted through the afternoon air as a light breeze blew through.  It was mostly silent, say for the quiet clamor of soldiers, they were standing ready.  The silence was broken as a distant drum began to appear, a low drone like a swarm of bees came from the north of this tree line.  It grew in intensity, creeping closer until the source came over the trees.

Like a giant hawk, a massive plane crested the pines, the trees bent in the force of its pass.  It passed low over the trenches, giving Isra a view of the hefty load of ordinance it hauled.  Bombs, big ones at that all painted black as night under the plane's green wings.  Its mighty radial engine roared as it passed them, banking hard and turning around to pass back over her trench.  It passed along the length of the trench from a distance, dropping its payload.

Isra's amber eyes widened in horror and she fell to the ground, covering her head as the earth shook around her from the exploding bombs.  The plane passed over as the shockwaves echoed into nothing, now all she could hear were the horrific screams of the survivors.  Their horrible and pained cries bored deep into her mind, she lay curled up on the floor of the trench until she was yanked up by a sudden force.

It was her commander, the tall and burly manned looked her in the eyes.

"Stand at attention, soldier, we are not here to sleep," He firmly said to her. 

"There's another!" She heard one soldier shout, and both she and the commander turned to the tree line as another matching plane crested the tree line and joined with its twin.  It came and passed over like the other, turning and coming from the east rather than the west, dropping its payload all the same.  The two of them dropped to the ground as the bombs went off around them.  The commander jumped up as soon as the plane passed them by, pulling Isra with him.

"Come on Damnit, get in position!" The commander turned to the tree line yet again. "Their men are coming!" He shouted before rushing off to command further down the line.  She was now alone with the sound of the planes circling overhead and the screams of the dying filling her mind.  She stood unmoving for what must have been hours, breathing heavily and staring into the far distance at nothing.  She stood there for what felt like hours until a new sound knocked her from her trance.

It was thumping, like a thousand feet were pounding the ground in quick succession that drew closer.  Then, like the two planes that still hovered overhead like vultures, many more flying machines crested the pines.  They were the odd machines called helicopters, they landed on their skids, dropping off their human cargo.  The soldiers on board departed from seven landing before them, charging toward her trench. 

"Fire!" Someone commanded, and she complied.  Almost mechanically, she tucked the long rifle into her shoulder, aimed it at a charging soldier, and pulled the trigger.  The recoil punched her, knocking her back a bit and white smoke filled the air in front of her.  When the smoke cleared and she finally opened her eyes she saw a soldier screaming as he fell to the ground, his left trouser leg stained with dark blood.

She watched as another soldier, one wearing a matching khaki uniform with a white armband displaying a golden cross, ran over to help him.  He carried several bags along with his rifle.  She finally mustered the courage to reload, she grabbed the lever and yanked it down.  The long brass cartridge ejected from the breech with a trail of smoke.  She hastily pulled another cartridge from her bandolier and crammed it in the breech, closing it and aiming.

She was about to take a shot at the man assisting her first target when the rapid fire of a machine gun passing overhead alerted her.  The helicopters were passing over the trenches, firing their mounted machine guns at her and her comrades.  She ducked and immediately stood back up to take aim, by now two others had gathered around the man to assist him.  She took her shot, striking the one bearing the armband in the side.

He fell on his side, gripping his waist in pain but getting back up to finish his work.  Isra was about to load another round when attackers finally took notice.  One of the soldiers assisting the armband soldier pointed right at her, shouting something to his companion she could not hear.  They got up and began running her way with rifles at the ready.  Eyes wide with fear, Isra ran from the spot, running along the narrow trenches until she bumped into another soldier.

'Where are you going?" He asked breathlessly as he tried to regain his composure. "They're in the trench, we need to-" He was cut short as a bullet met his back, he let out a gasp and fell to the ground in a heap of dead weight.  Behind him were gathering soldiers, entering the trench from holes in the defenses made by the bombs.  She turned in the opposite direction, running through the trenches until she found other soldiers, who were climbing over the walls of the first line and running to the second line.

She wasted no time and followed them up, just then, the planes that had been hovering overhead finally rejoined the fight.  One of the passed close over the retreating forces, gunning them down with its cannons, blasting soldiers to bits with its powerful shell.  She got down, or rather tripped, covering her head even though she knew it would be useless.  The plane missed her and passed overhead like a dark flying demon.

Screams and groans could be heard over the rattle of rifle fire.  Isra lifted her head just enough to see the carnage around her, bloody and dismembered bodies surrounded her, and guts lay strewn about the smoky no man's land.  Tears welled up in her eyes but she stood up as she heard the shouting of the enemy behind her.  She jumped up and ran to the second trench, finding even it was clearing out.  She climbed up the other side, turning around just enough to see more helicopters landing between the two lines of trenches.  

She wasted no time when she reached the final trench as even it was clearing out by now.  

Later in The Day...

Isra marched in a column if one could call it marching.  She shouldered her rifle and walked with her fellow soldiers, many carried wounded or were wounded themselves.  By now the sun was going down over the battered soldiers, and thunder rolled in the distance.  They were marching to the Traat River to help bolster the defenses there and hopefully halt the Confederate advances.  The forces had been drastically reduced by now, those who had not been killed in the battle had died from their wounds. 

Those few uninjured marched along the battered dirt road with their still-living injured comrades dragging behind them.  Isra hobbled along on her blistered feet in her too-tight boots, propping herself up on her rifle like a cane.  Her comrades sang songs to keep themselves awake, she did not join in.  She was barely awake, moving like a machine with no power of her own, her eyes barely open as the nighttime storm drew closer and the rains began to fall.

April 16th
Fort Ironside, Kingdom of North Zebrica

Thunder rumbled and the wind rushed over the camp as the storm grew closer to the fort.  Sunset stepped into the long well-lit tent that was the Officer's Mess.  Inside were officers, all dressed the same, eating their supper and chatting with one another about the events of the day.  Sunset ignored them as she got her food from the cook near the back of the tent and sat in a folding metal chair close to the head of the table.  As soon as she had sat down she was forced back up when Field Marshal Clemson stepped in from a door at the opposite end of the tent.  

Sunset and the other dozen or so officers stood up in salute, and Clemson returned the salute.

"At ease," He commanded, and they all returned to their seats.  He hobbled over to the food line, a soldier behind him gathering his supper and setting it on the table.  Clemson eased himself into his seat, resting his cane against the table. "Now," He began as he settled in his chair. "I reckon y'all have heard the good news?"

"Yes sir," General Everett responded from near the end of the table "We've pushed part of the 6th Army back to the Traat River," The officers at the table cheered at the news, it seemed they had not heard the news.

"It appears I was right," Clemson said with a triumphant smile. "We're gonna roll right over 'em. However, the attack on their defenses south of the Traat River'll be slowed by the weather, a radio message from Colonel Bragg said that the rain's gonna be hell. He said that the roads have turned to mud like that," He snapped his fingers. "And any attempts to resupply by plane are gonna be a problem in the weather, let's pray it lets off soon," A crack of thunder roared over them like a cannon, shaking the earth beneath them.  The wind pushed against the sides of the tent, howling like a damned soul. "The Devil's out tonight, we'd best be prayin'," 

"Marshal Clemson, if you don't mind me asking, what is this Devil?" Sunset asked.

"Devil, Marshal Shimmer, is an angel who fell from heaven and now spends all his time walking the Earth and wreaking havoc across the world. He's weak, his only influence is spreading fear and lust in the hearts of men,"

"And he influences the weather?"

"No ma'am, he only sends his horrific voice through the air in a vain attempt to make us afraid, but prayer and faith in the Lord God keep the fear out," Clemson paused as another crack of thunder echoed over them. "That's enough talk of the Devil, I wish to know a bit about your time in the army,"

"W-what?" Sunset's eyes widened with surprise.

"Your time in the army, that is if you're comfortable talkin' about it, I know some folks ain't too keen on it,"

"No sir, it's not a big deal," Sunset chuckled. "I'd be... Glad to tell you some stuff,"

"Well then," Clemson exclaimed with a smile. "Let's hear some stuff then," He leaned back in his chair. 

"Well... I first saw combat almost twenty years ago now..." She paused, reminiscing on her days as a young soldier. "I was just out of BootCamp and we were in the south of Equestria near the coastal city of Southcrest. I was outside of the city when my column was ambushed by militiamen," The winds pushed harder against the tent, shoving the hefty poles with its gale. "They fired upon us from a building on the border of the city, they'd somehow gotten some machine guns. We only stopped them with a well-placed artillery barrage, but before that, we spent more than an hour hiding in the streets. It was a damned gauntlet,"

"Hmm, I kinda had an experience like that. Only mine was in the jungle and it was Congolese rebels," Clemson remarked "Now, is that little fight of yours how you got that scar?"

"No sir, it was a fight in Severyana between communist secessionists in the north," Sunset let out a sigh. "We fought up there for two weeks, I took shrapnel across the face and in the arm. I spent the next few weeks in a field hospital where I heard the news that Princess Celestia was ordering us back to Canterlot.  We gave them Severyana in weeks," Her face contorted with rage. 

"It seems that... You aren't a big fan of Princess Celestia," Clemson remarked sympathetically.

"How would you feel if your leader, someone who claims to be a descendant of the goddesses gave up most of your country?" Sunset snapped at Clemson, shocking the officers at the table.  Clemson stared at her with his old hazel eyes.

"Well... I reckon if Lincoln had done that near a hundred and seventy years ago we wouldn't have had to fight so hard.  But... I can't imagine someone handing over a chunk of land that large to some communists,"

"Princess Celestia is weak," Sunset stated harshly "Weak, indecisive, and a damned pacifist," A scowl formed on her middle-aged face.

"Yes... You've said this before, and as I recall Thatcher saying before: pacifists have no business running a country," A horrific crash of thunder sounded, shaking the ground so hard that it threatened to knock over the propane lanterns on the table.  The thunder was almost immediately followed by a thundering downpour as the sky opened up above them. "Let's hope this doesn't hamper the offensive too much!" Clemson shouted over the rush of water, all the officers nodded in agreeance.
> Back at Home
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

April 18th
New Richmond, Federal Republic of Dixie

Thatcher stepped through the door of his personal chamber and into the now clean and organized room that made up his office.  He donned a freshly pressed suit of gray and his usual officer's cap and finely polished boots.  He straightened his black tie, dusted off his shoulders, and stepped out of his office into the small attic officer's lounge.  The old and worn-out attic floor had been decorated with well-crafted furniture and framed paintings of great Confederate generals like Lee and Jackson, and scenes from past conflicts.

The most notable was a wide painting of Bertram's Charge during the Second US-Confederate War.  As Thatcher exited his office all of the four men sitting in the lounge stood in unison, holding salutes.  Thatcher clicked his heels and gave a hard salute.

"At ease," He belted out, the officers ending their salutes in response.  Thatcher crossed the wide and surprisingly empty room to the old wood-burning stove that was being used for a pseudo coffee maker.  The crooked pipe of the stove extended up through the low roof of the attic.  Its exterior was rusted and bolts held it to the floor, a stack of wood was piled neatly next to it.  Thatcher grabbed a white coffee cup from the shelf nearby and poured a cup of steaming black coffee from the silver coffee pot atop the lit oven. "So gentlemen," Thatcher began before taking a sip from the coffee in his hand. "What's the good word?"

"Well, Governor, if you haven't heard. Our men are pushing towards the Traat River in the west," Lieutenant Colonel Hammond answered. "Though, from what Marshal Clemson has radioed in, it appears their progress has been hampered by storms in the area. The roads are turning to rivers of mud according to reports,"

"It's like the push into Russia again," Thatcher stated with disdain. "Damned weather," He let out a low sigh. "It is good, however, to hear that the men are actually advancing," Thatcher took a long draw of the coffee. "And what of the east?"

"Well sir, that is a much more disappointing subject," Hammond stated disappointedly. "According to Marshal Clemson, yet again, they've stopped completely, the advance has dug in at a spot they call 'Last Horse'," 

"Damnit," Thatcher harshly stated. "I'll need a map," Thatcher turned to an officer who was standing idle near Hammond. "Johnson!" Thatcher called, and the officer snapped to attention.

"Sir?!"

"Get me that map!" Thatcher commanded. 

"Sir yes sir!" Johnson dashed down the stairs at the center of the lounge and out of sight.  "

"Any news from anywhere else?" Thatcher asked, moving away from military matters for the moment.

"Ole Miss won against Alabama, sir," Lieutenant Colonel Roberts, a thin bare-faced black man, who was similar in age to Hammond, announced.  A smile broke out on Thatcher's bearded face.

"Hell yeah, I'm sure The Rebs gave 'em a run for their money. I reckon that calls for a celebratory cigar," Thatcher sipped from his coffee. "That can wait, at least until I get some more matters out of the way,” Thatcher said as if remembering something he had forgotten to do. Pardon me for a moment," Thatcher sat his coffee down on a table near the pot and left the lounge, returning to his office and going to the yellow phone hanging on the wall next to his personal chamber.  

He grabbed the handset and pressed one of the three buttons below it marked  Grand Admiral.  The phone rang for a moment before Grand Admiral Matthew Hartly answered "Grand Admiral," Thatcher greeted.

"Military Governor," Hartly responded in his harsh and raspy voice.

"I hope your mornin' is treatin' you well, Grand Admiral," Thatcher drew in a deep breath and harshened his tone. "I reckon you know why I'm callin' you," 

"I know," Hartly responded, his voice low, he truly knew exactly what Thatcher was calling about.  The two had always been at odds with one another.  From the moment Thatcher had been appointed as Military Governor of the Confederacy Hartly had seen him as brash and reckless.  Hartly was a navy man who saw the importance that cruisers and carriers played in the military machine.  Thatcher, on the other hand, was an army man.  

His only experience with the sea had been the one time he landed on the beaches of Cuba.  The two had been at each other's throats for years now, but they both stopped their bickering at the mention of one thing. "Unfortunately, none of the fleets have reported anything.  It appears the Bethlehem is still lost," Heartly's disappointment carried well over the phone line.  Thatcher sighed deeply.

"Damnit," He murmured.  The CSHS Bethlehem had been a cause for great distress within the military.  Their first attempts to create a portal to Equestria in Appalachia had somehow resulted in the disappearance of a hospital ship in the Black Sea some five years ago now.  The Air Corps had been the first to start a search, when the portal was finally stable enough to send more than a single human through they sent an Mk23 stealth bomber through to observe the planet from a high altitude. 

It all evolved from there until a full-scale search began as soon as the FRD was founded.  "Very well," Thatcher stated in a melancholic manner, unusual for him. "Good day to you, Grand Admiral,"

"And good day to you, Military Governor," Heartly hung up the phone as did Thatcher.  Thatcher, still saddened by the news or lack thereof.  Went to his personal chamber and grabbed a thick cigar from his wooden humidor.  After all, Ole Miss had won against Alabama.  Thatcher walked out of his office, still with the same mix of anger and melancholy on his face.  He sparked up the long roll of tobacco and took a hard puff, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke.

“I assume you were just talking to Grand Admiral Hartly,” Hammond said as Thatcher stepped into the lounge.

“Yes sir, I did,” Thatcher replied. “He says there’s still no news on the Bethlehem,” 

“That’s a damned shame,” Hammond responded with indifference.  Hammond was about to continue when Johnson returned with multiple rolled maps under his arm.

“Sit it on my desk,” Thatcher said to which Johnson responded by entering the office and returning empty-handed.  “When Marshal Smith, Marshal Hughes, and Marshal Crawford get here you must go and find Ambassador Inkwell for me, Johnson,” Thatcher said upon Johnson’s return. “We’ll have some private matters to attend to,” Thatcher picked his coffee up from where he had left it and took a sip of the now lukewarm liquid. “So what’s cookin’ the mess this mornin’?”


“Donuts, Governor,” Hammond answered. “All kinds too, sir,”

“Well,” Thatcher began with a smile before taking a toke from the cigar. “I reckon I’ll run down there after the meeting,” While Hammond and the others nodded in agreement, a lone military policeman came up the steps. 

“Governor Thatcher,” he greeted with haste, his rifle hanging from his shoulder.

“Officer,” Thatcher returned, featuring to him with his cup, taking yet another puff off the cigar.  

“There’s a group of people who wish to speak to you, sir. They claim they’re medical professionals from Equestria,”

“Very well officer, go and retrieve them,” The policeman saluted and left the lounge. “And you, gentlemen, disperse and go about your day,” he gave them a salute and they returned it before leaving the lounge.  Thatcher topped off his coffee and returned to his office, sitting in the cushioned wooden swivel chair behind his fine oak desk.  He sat his mug down on the well-placed coaster next to the gray metal box that was his ComTech electronic computer.  

He took one last puff of the cigar and placed it in a long tray sitting just below the mount for his plastic model of a GPT-98 that sat on his desk among the stacks of paper littering his desk.  Then he folded his hands, resting them on his desk, and began to wait.  After minutes of sitting alone and in silence a knock finally came at the door. "Come in," Thatcher called back.  The same officer from earlier opened the door with a low creak and two women stepped inside. 

"Good mornin', ladies," Thatcher greeted, standing up to shake their hands. "Please, have a seat," He gestured to the two leather seats before his desk.  "So, what brings you to our little corner of Equus?" Thatcher asked, sitting back down in his chair. "I hear y'all are medical professionals,"

"Well, you've heard correctly, Governor," One of the two women, one with bright pink hair tied in a neat ponytail. "I am Nurse Redheart and this is my companion, Nurse Tenderheart." she gestured to the blue-haired woman sitting next to her.  

"It's a pleasure meeting the two of you," Thatcher began, with a slight bit of annoyance. "Now might I ask why you're here?  It seems you've arrived out of nowhere and judging by your manner of dress you came here legally," He gestured to the clean and wrinkle-free clothes they wore.  Redheart cleared her throat and began:

"Well, sir, Nurse Tenderheart and I, along with our other companions would like to... Assist in... The war," Redheart seemed nervous just saying it.  Thatcher raised his eyebrow curiously before responding:

"Interesting," He began. "What are your qualifications? By that I mean, what type of nursing do you do?"

"We're... Both clinical nurses,"

"And ya seem pretty nervous just sittin' here. I'd think a clinical nurse would be a bit more social, not talkin' bad or nothin', of course," Thatcher took a sip from his coffee and continued. "What's your experience with... Things of a... Messier nature? so to speak," 

"What do you mean, sir?" Redheart asked.

"What I mean is that war is... Messy, to put it lightly. As someone who served more than thirty years in the army and has been in a field hospital too many times. I can say with certainty that, war isn't something for the faint-hearted," 

"Well I can assure you that we are not faint-hearted," Redheart responded with confidence.

"Really?" Thatcher asked seriously. "What is the worst you have seen at your clinic?"

"Well..." Tenderheart was taken aback by the question and unsure of how to answer.

"We have cleaned up quite a few blood spills in our time," Tenderheart interjected in a more seasoned and posh accent.

"Blood spills," Thatcher chuckled "Let me tell ya about somethin' I encountered back when I was a Lieutenant," Thatcher's face lost all expression and his voice turned low. "It was near about twenty years ago, a corporal in my unit had his face blown off.  His head looked like a container of ground beef and the bastard was still alive. It was the middle of the Goddamn winter so his face was steamin'. How would you fair in that situation?" 

Redheart and Tenderheart were silent, shock running across their faces. 

"I'm... U-unsure, exactly what to do there..." Redheart answered, beads of sweat rolling down her face.

"That's all I need to hear," Thatcher said. "Now begone, I have a meeting to attend with my cabinet," Thatcher stood up and extended his hand outward. 

"Wait a minute now, Governor," Tenderheart began as she too, stood up. "Just because we do not know what to do does not mean we cannot learn.  Plus, your medical units surely need assistance," Tenderheart's words got Thatcher thinking.  He rubbed his bearded chin in thought for some time.

"Well," He began, nodding as if agreeing with somebody. "I figure the Golden Cross has it handled, but," He continued to think. "And you won't be in a combat zone, in fact, my example was a bit out of place in this discussion. Alright, I'll call up Marshal Clemson and we'll see about that," He went across the room to his phone, grabbed it, and pressed the operator button below the handset. "Operator, get me Field Marshal Clemson on the phone,"

He stood for a moment, waiting for Clemson to answer. "Hello, Marshal Clemson. I have some folks here lookin' to assist in the war effort... Yes, they're nurses, they wanna help the Golden Cross... Alright, I'll let 'em know," Thatcher hung up the phone.  "You're in luck, ladies. There's a M.A.S.H unit in North Zebrica with your name on it," Thatcher guided the women out of his office, commanding the policeman outside to tell the men at the strip to ready a transport for the group.

Sometime later, Thatcher found himself in the conference room on the second floor, his cabinet consisting of Marshal Crawford, Marshal Smith, and Marshal Hughes gathered with him.  Unrolled maps of several North Zebrican locations lay before them on the table.  They were waiting for Ambassador Inkwell to arrive, apparently she had been held up at her new home some distance from the office by traffic.  The group sat in rather uncomfortable silence for quite a while before Inkwell finally arrived.

They all breathed a sigh of relief as a policeman opened the curtain and gestured for the young woman to enter.  Thatcher stood up and shook the hand of the smiling young woman.

"Ambassador Inkwell, it's good to have you here," Thatcher greeted. "I just need ya for a quick question then you can go about your work,"

"I'm glad to be here too," She responded in a chipper young voice. "So whaddya need?"

"I need to know...If y'all keep tabs on Communists in your country," Thatcher said in a low voice. 

"What exactly do you... Mean by that, s-sir?" Red asked confusion on her young face.

"Like, do you have information on party leaders and the like?"

"Um, yes sir, as a matter of fact, we do keep that stuff. But it's mostly provincial stuff but... I think I can get some of that info," 

"Good deal, Ms. Inkwell, I'll need that info as soon as possible, thank you, ma'am," Thatcher said, gesturing for her to leave.

"You're welcome, sir," She responded, giving the man a salute.  Thatcher returned one out of kindness, he could not help but admire the new ambassador's tenacity.  Thatcher took his seat at the table and began. "Gentlemen, I reckon you know why you've been called here today. We're makin' slow progress but it's progress nonetheless," He pointed to a specific spot in the east of North Zebrica. "Right now we're entrenched here, but to the west, we're still movin', so we won't be diggin' in there by the looks of it," 

"The problem is when we get to the river," Hughes began. "The river's flooded and from what I hear the rain's still comin' down out there, the river's gonna be impassable," 

"Therein lies the issue, perhaps this is when the air cav'll be most useful," Thatcher paused and thought for a moment. "But what about the armor?" 

"We could use a Quick Bridge," Crawford answered.  He was referring to the quickly assembled bridges the Engineer's Corps used to assist in river crossings.  

"That could work, but observation flights have reported that the river's basically a giant lake at this point, and the river was already wider than the Mississippi. That and with the water being as bad as it is the trucks would get stuck tryin' to get to the river,"

"We could send engineer boats in, but that'll take forever," Hughes said.

"Yes, and the manpower required would be tremendous, we're already slowed down enough as is," Then there's the east, what are we gonna do there?  It seems the situation is simply the same as the Great War.  There's so much shit going on that they had to dig in," 

"We could simply bomb them into submission," Smith, who had been quiet, said.

"That sounds good, but our mediums are stuck in the west... Unless," Thatcher rubbed his bearded chin in thought. "We use the heavies," A grin crossed Thatcher's face. 

"We haven't used heavies in mass troop bombardments like that since the Oil Wars," Hughes began. "And there's the accuracy issue-" Hughes was cut off by Thatcher who held his hand up.

"Hughes, Hughes, I reckon you haven't heard anything about the current bombardier sights we've got on our heavies that make them more accurate than the Mk7s," Thatcher lowered his hand. "Though I will not hold it against you, you're an army guy, not an air corps guy.  But that's an easy fix, we still need to deal with the river, lord knows how long it can take for it to go down,"

"We could try fording," Crawford stated. 

"That looks good on paper, but that only works so well and you've gotta seal the tanks, sadly our tanks aren't sealed. It feels like our best option is just gonna be engineer boats or some sort of motorized bridge,"  Thatcher pondered for a moment. "This is gonna take a while, let's start some coffee," Is what he finally said.
> Guns and Pines
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

April 19th
North of the Traat River, Kingdom of North Zebrica

The rain had turned the roads into little more than shallow rivers of mud.  Isra's boots were filled with frigid brown water as she marched alongside a tall armored car.  She was now fully dressed in a proper olive uniform and cap with a short bolt action rifle at her shoulder.  She was weary, her eyes barely open as she marched mechanically with her comrades, who were all in a similar state.  The memories of the previous days still lingered in her mind.

For three days they had marched, and for all of them, they had been stalked by the invaders.  Planes flew over them at great heights, their existence only known by the loud roar of their props and the great rush of their odd jet engines.  The clouds had rendered them invisible, it was as if ghosts were watching them on their march.  Carefully monitoring their every move, noting every step they took.  They had finally been found, the invaders had met them in the forest of Equestrian pine trees.

There was a distant drumming of machine gun fire as she marched, it mixed with the thunderous applause of the rain to create a hellish roar all around them.  Isra and her comrades, along with the armored car, were moving south along one of the many muddy roads cutting through the forest.  She understood little of what they were actually doing, she was not a soldier so it was unsurprising, really.  All she knew was to follow the orders of her superior officers, who just so happen to be in the armored car.

Isra was jolted from her thoughts when shouts came, there were men ahead of them.  Isra gazed down the road as soldiers charged into the road from the west, accompanying them was a tank.  She had heard rumors of growling beasts and their monstrous guns that far outgunned anything they had, but she had never seen one.  The tank rattled through the water, its engine belching black smoke as it crawled along and blocked their path.  

Isra and her fellow troops moved away from the car as the supporting Confederate infantry opened fire.  She slipped and fell into the ankle-deep water.  Isra looked up, spitting and sputtering as she did, and just in time to see the tank's beast of gunfire its titanic shell.  In an instant, the armored car that had been firing upon the tank with its .303 machine gun was gone.  In a storm of fire and sparks, the car turned to nothing but a twisted hunk of white-hot steel.

The subsequent shockwave from the explosion threw Isra from the road and into a ditch alongside.  It had been rendered invisible by the tall floodwaters.  She fell into the deep brown water, inhaling a huge gulp of mud and water.  She kicked and flailed against the water and weight of her kit.  Isra had never learned to swim, the very idea elicited terrible thoughts in her mind.  These ideas were made more prominent by the situation as she sunk into the deep ditch.

Darkness crept in on the edges of her vision, which was already darkened by the brown water that stung her eyes.  She hit the soggy bottom of the ditch, just as her vision had nearly faded.  Then, like a jolt of electricity, her mind came back to her, she felt along the bottom, moving in whatever direction she thought the road was.  She crawled along until the sharp incline of the roadside was finally found.  She pulled herself up against the weight of her rifle and ammo pouches until the gray cloudy sky she could see.  

Isra painfully hacked and cough up liters of water before finally taking notice of the chaos around her.  The giant tank rolled down the road, its support fired upon her remaining comrades.  That sense Isra had three days ago took over and she took her soaking wet rifle and began firing with other comrades.  Like an automaton she racked the bolt back and chambered a round, firing it at a soldier and striking him in the chest.  He fell down in a heap, the shot had managed to puncture his plates and kill him.

She racked another round and aimed it at another soldier putting a shot in his shoulder.  She racked the bolt and fired at a third soldier, putting a shot in his chest and knocking him back.  She had hit the plate, merely knocking the wind and a good bit of vomit out of him.  The remaining troops had taken notice of her now.  One of the men shouted at the gunner atop the tank, who was manning a light machine gun.

He turned his gun toward Isra, opening fire on her.  She quickly dropped into the water, waddling along on bended knees until she reached a pine tree several yards from the road and got behind it.  Shots zipped by Isra, thwacking nearby trees, she turned around and leaned out from her cover, firing a round.  The bullet struck the turret of the tank with a pang, Isra racked the bolt and fired again, still missing the gunner.

"Damnit," She muttered, she racked the bolt again, only to find her gun empty.  The bullets roared around her, causing her to hide yet again.  With her hand shaking from adrenaline, she pulled a five-round strip clip from her new army issue bandolier and fed them into the magazine, closing the bolt.  She ducked into the thigh-deep water and began crawling away from the road, concealing herself in the water as best she could.  

The shots splashed around her as she retreated into the forest.  Even they stopped and the gunfire was just as distant as before.  She continued her crawl for some time before finally feeling safe enough to stand.  Isra looked all around, taking in her surroundings, there was nothing but Equestrian pines all around.  The gunfire behind her had grown silent, whether it was the distance or that her comrades were dead she did not know.

Isra moved along forward, hoping to either find more of her comrades or at least another road.  She was slow and careful with each step, feeling for holes or weak spots with everyone.  She kept on like this for quite some time until she heard something.  It was splashing as if someone or something was running toward her through the thigh-deep water.  Isra readied her rifle, raising it in defense.  

She turned just as the splashing got to her and was surprised to find another soldier in a matching uniform.  She glared at him curiously as he fell before her, holding his hands up in a poor attempt to shield himself from her rifle.  

“What in Tartarus are you doing here?” Isra asked angrily, lowering her rifle. “Who are you?”

"I-I," He began breathlessly, coming to his feet. "I am Private Hamas Bennouna of the 12th Infantry Division,"

"So you're with the regular army then," Isra responded in her young voice. 

"Are you not?" Hamas asked.

"I'm a... I'm a volunteer," Isra's adrenaline rush was wearing off now, she was returning to the same tired state from before her initial engagement.  She leaned against a nearby tree, letting her rifle rest in the water. "Wh-where did you come from?" She breathlessly asked.

"You shouldn't rest your rifle in the water like that, and I came from the fourth battalion... Our commander called a retreat and I got lost in the mess," Hamas turned and pointed away from them. "There's a road... To the east of here... We can follow it to Colonel Khara. She's got her base south of here," Hamas started off east, Isra following closely behind him.  They trudged on through the cold water for close to an hour before they finally reached the road.

It appeared as a long cutaway from the trees where light from the clouded sky was most intense.  With it came the sound of engines, dozens of them to be exact.  Hamas stopped Isra before they could reach the road.

"There are trucks," He said before holding his finger up, singling her to be quiet.  He got down and started to crawl through the water, Isra following suit.  The two reached the road, keeping low with their heads just above the water.  They looked north to where the engines were coming from and found the shocking sight of Confederate vehicles.  Two trucks blocked the road going north and sever men waved flags around guiding half-track ammo and troop carriers.

Among them were the tremendous 75mm self-propelled guns and specialized trucks carrying 40mm anti-air guns.  They were being guided down a road turning east through the forest. 

"They're gonna bombard the eastern flank," Hamas exclaimed in hushed horror. "We need to find Colonel Khara," Hamas started south, crawling through the water with Isra following suit.  They did this for some distance until they were surely out of sight of the invaders.  Once they were sure of this, they got back on the road and started down the path at a steady gait.  They ran and ran stopping only when the thunder of two helicopters overtook them.  

They passed low over the trees going northeast, paying them no mind.  Isra noted the strange pods hanging from their sides.

"They call them attack helicopters," Hamas said. "They have rockets and more guns than regular helicopters... They're horrible weapons... Let's go!" The two kept going.

"How do you know this?" Isra asked Hamas as they ran.

"Because they attacked us before our retreat, they killed scores of our men!" Hamas answered.  The two continued their run until they met two soldiers on horseback riding along the road.  The two told the men of their mission and climbed upon their horses, galloping south until they reached camp.  Isra and Hamas climbed down from the horses and dashed through the winding maze of white canvas tents until they reached the largest of them at the center of the camp.

Standing in this tent at a table looking over a map of the forest was Colonel Nyla Khara of the 12th Division.  She was a seasoned leader and one who was more deserving of her position than many others.  She turned to face the two soldiers, giving them a visual of the horrible bayonet scar across her closed eye that marked her aging face.

"What do you want?" She asked in her calm and harsh voice.

"...Colonel..." Hamas began as he wheezed. "The... The Confederates are going to bomb..."

"Calm down, soldier, who are you?" Khara asked.

"I... Am Private Hamas Bennouna of the Fourth Battalion... We have spotted artillery to the northeast,"

"Very well, Private..." Khara responded. "Very well..."

April 19th
Kharak Airfield, Kingdom of North Zebrica

Kharak Airfield was a hastily assembled dirt landing strip surrounded by tents and housing more than a hundred fighters and dive bombers.  It was boring being a pilot there, it seemed there was nothing going on south of the Traat River and even the stuff in the north had not been a call to action.  Here was found Saira Saoudi, a dive bomber pilot in the Zebrican Air Force, and a rather brash individual.  

She was at a table inside one of the long tents at the field sitting at a wooden cable spool being used for a table.  A cigarette hung out of her mouth as she sat neck-deep in a game of poker.  She looked down at her hand it was straight from ten to six, surely a winner.  A devious grin formed on her face as she stared at the only player left in the game.  It was an Equestrian-born pilot by the name of Skyward Bound, a well-trained captain, and a gambling addict.  

The gray handlebar mustache on his forest green face concealed the emotionless grimace it held.  Saira let out a sly chuckle and pushed the stack of chips next to her forward.

“All in,” She said with a sure grin.

“Saira!” A voice called out from nearby, making the young pilot jump in surprise.  Saira turned to see her sister, Sanae.  Despite their relationship, the two couldn’t be different from one another.  Saira sported long gray hair that looked odd compared to her sister’s equally long chestnut brown hair.  Saira was the taller of the two, being the oldest, and was pretty well built compared to her sister.

“Hey there sis, how’s it goin’?” Saira asked just as casually as ever.

“What are you doing here?” Sanae asked enraged at her older sister.

“What does it look like?  I’m beating Captain Bound’s ass at poker,” Sanae looked at the old man who was puffing on a black opium pipe.

“If ya don’t mind, Airman Saoudi, we’re in the midst of a game here,” Captain Bound said in his harsh southern Equestrian accent.  Sanae grumbled and stepped back, allowing them to finish the game. “Ah reckon ah’ll go all in too,” Bound said slyly, sliding his chips forward.

“Try and beat that!” Saira exclaimed slamming her hand down on the spool.  Bound looked at her cards and began a hearty and triumphant laugh.

“Take a look at this,” he said victoriously as he lay a full house down before her.  Saira slammed her fist down on the table, nearly knocking over the stacks of chips before.

“Damnit,” she muttered viciously, turning away from the laughing man in defeat.  Upon turning she was met with the absolutely furious eyes of her sister.  Minutes later they were outside, walking among the tents of the airfield.  Saira strolled along with annoyance across her face as her sister scolded her for the millionth time.

“How many times are you gonna do this?” Sanae cried furiously.  “You can’t just keep wasting your money like this on gambling and cigarettes!” She plucked the cigarette from Saira’s mouth. “You know these things are bad for you, right?” She dropped it and stomped on it with her boot.

“What’s the big deal?” Saira asked, pulling another cigarette from her pack and sparking it with a match. 

“The big deal is you’re gonna get yourself in a mess you can’t wiggle your way out of,” Sanae “have you forgotten that the reason you’re even in the military is that it was either this or prison?  Mother and father might have tolerated your shenanigans, but the government will not!”  

“Whatever, I wish you’d stop being such a prude,” Saira chuckled. 

“Mark my words, your brashness is gonna get you killed someday,” Sanae replied with hot rage.

“If you do your job as gunner it won’t,” Saira said with her usual sly grin.  Sanae and Saira had joined the Air Force at the same time, Saira to avoid jail time and Sanae to monitor her sister.  This somehow ended with them being part of the same team in a Manehattan Air Works Model 5 Dive Bomber.  The two of them were shaken from their argument by the shrill moan of an air raid siren.  The two of them immediately began running toward the center of the base, expecting an air attack.

They met up with a fellow pilot, who was also running in the same direction. 

"What's going on?!" Saira asked the pilot, who was smiling as he ran.

"The colonel called on us!" He shouted back with excitement. "We're finally getting to attack the damned invaders!" Saira's face lit up, for the few days they had been sitting there they had not once been called to action.  Now, Saira would finally have a real reason for being there.  They found their plane, the ugly single-engine bomber with its wings just below the cockpit and its long canopy sporting a pan-fed machine gun.  

The two sisters got into their positions whilst the three bombers were being loaded to the plane's belly and the two .303 nose guns were loaded.  They started their plane, taxiing down the runway among other bombers and fighters.  Before long they were airborne and pushing north toward the river. 

"So what's goin' on here?" Saira asked through her breathing mask.

"Colonel Khara asked for us," Captain Bound answered from his fighter through the com system. "She needs us to destroy artillery set up to destroy their eastern flank.

"How are we gonna know where it is?" Another pilot asked.

"Will know, trust me, we'll know," They flew for nearly an hour before finally reaching the pine forest where this battle was taking place.  The expansive field of tall pines lay out before them with planes and helicopters prowling over it like hawks searching for their meal.  Luckily, they all seemed to be slow attack planes much like Saira and her sister.

"No fighters here," Saira said, switching her radio to her plane's shared system.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Sanae replied. “Just don’t do anything stupid and we’ll be fine,”

“No promises,” Saira started laughing, drowning out the annoyed groan of her sister.  They flew for some minutes before finally spotting their target.  Among the smoke and rain was a massive cutout in the forest where more than a dozen self-propelled guns were parked in a long line pointing southwest.

“There they are, watch yourselves now,” Bound called through the radio. “We’ll keep watch while the bombers do the work,”

“He doesn’t have to tell me,” Saira told her sister, still speaking through the crew system.  She and three other bombers turned away from the opening and pulled up high.  They went until they were almost touching the clouds before banking left and turned down.  Saira led the dive, pointing the nose of her plane straight down at a single artillery piece.  As she continued her dive, 40mm anti-air guns started firing all around her.

Luckily for her, the scared-to-death gunners were having trouble finding their target. 

“Bombs away!” She loudly proclaimed as she released the first bomb before yanking her control stick up with mere yards between her and the ground.  As her plane shot up She could see the flash of her strike behind her. “Bullseye!”  She reorientated her plane for another dive, aiming for one of the half-track ammunition carriages.  Saira let another bomb loose, lighting the truck up like a torch.  

She continued low, strafing the fleeing artillerymen with her plane’s machine guns.  She yanked the plane up at the tree line and began putting her plane up for another dive.  Then it happened, a roaring explosion cut the air as a nearby bomber was blown to pieces.

“What in Tartarus was that?!” A fellow pilot cried over the radio.  Saira switched her radio to communicate with the other pilots. 

“I don’t know!” Bound called through the radio. “It must be a… Dear sis-“ his radio cut out and another explosion sounded from nearby, Bound’s plane was gone.  Just as it happened, Saira spotted something out of the corner of her eye.  Off in the distance, we’re four thin trails of smoke.  Saira's eyes widened as she spotted what was making them. 

"Fighters!" A pilot frantically shouted. "Move!" Saira kept her plane level, watching intently as they hooked around and pointed right at her.  There were two of them, armed with rockets and painted navy blue.  They had no props, but rather two imposing air intakes on either side of the cockpit to support their mysterious jet engines.  They neared her at impossible speeds.  Quickly she dropped the plane, just in time for her to avoid the hailstorm of shot bursting from their cannons. 

The arrow-shaped fighters roared over her plane, shaking it as they did.  Sanae aimed her machine gun at the jets, firing off a quick burst of shots to no avail.  They came back around, one firing off a missile at Saira’s plane.  She quickly.

“Saira!  Turn!” Her sister cried, Saira, banked left narrowly avoiding the missile which exploded in the distance.  One shot another missile, striking a bomber, turning it into a ball of flame that fell into the forest.  The other struck a fighter attempting to intercept it with its cannon, shredding it to bits.  Saira turned and dove to avoid the chaos as best she could, her sister firing shots at the planes as best she could.  

How is this possible? Saira thought to herself as she continued her evasive moves. Two fighters against more than a dozen should be an easy victory.

"Saira!" She was taken from her thoughts by her sister yet again.  She turned and peered behind her, rising from the forest was a twin-engine attack plane.  The beast was at least twice the size of her plane and carried more ordinance under its wings than she could imagine.  It rose behind the plane like a slow dragon, Saira pushed the throttle forward to get away.  Her plane picked up speed, roaring back south as the plane pursued her.

"Drop the bomb!" Sanae shouted as she began shooting at the plane.  Saira released her plane's final bomb, letting it fall into the forest with a boom.  The plane picked up speed with the slow jet still gaining on it. "Damnit... My guns jammed! Saira bank!" Sanae called, but it was too late.  The massive rotary cannon in its nose erupted with a shower of sparks and a line of tracers.  Joining the cannon were four heavy machine guns in dual weapon pods on either side.  

Saira's plane was ripped to shreds, the flaps and ailerons were torn from the wings, and the tail fins were riddled with bullets to such a degree they fell away.  

"Sanae?! Sanae?!" Saira called, unhooking her straps.

"I... I'm stuck, Saira!" Sanae answered. "Help me!" Saira peered behind her and then ahead, the plane was going down, and there was nothing she could do. "Saira...! Saira...! Please...! I've been shot!" Her controls were useless, her wings were practically gone, and the fire was overtaking the whole craft. "Saira...?! Saira, help me!" Saira did not respond to her pleas. "Saira!" Saira pulled herself out of the plane, jumping from the burning plane.  

Saira pulled the cord on her emergency chute and watched as the fireball that was her plane fell to the earth below.  It hit the forest with a fiery flash.  Saira stared at the pillar of black smoke that took to the sky as she slowly drifted to the water-logged forest floor.  Her chute snagged in the branches of a pine tree, stopping her hard.  Saira unhooked her chute and fell into the deep water below.  As she stood up she saw the two fighters zoom past overhead, the attack plane close behind.

She was also met with another sound, it was the sound of a war song being chanted by soldiers, Zebrican soldiers.  Trudging through the water were olive-dressed soldiers with rifles in their hands.  Some carried the blue, red, and black falcon-marked banner of North Zebrica.  They had bayonets fixed as they walked, paying her no mind as they passed her by.

So Saira simply leaned against a tree and began to cry.

April 19th
Fort Ironside, Kingdom of North Zebrica

"Marshal Clemson," Clemson looked up and turned to face the voice, standing at the door of the hastily assembled tent church was Field Marshal Sunset Shimmer.

"Marshal Shimmer," Clemson responded with a smile. "It's good to see you, I haven't seen you since breakfast. Please, come sit," Sunset walked along the dirt floor and over to Clemson's spat just before a small pulpit.  She took her seat next to Clemson, looking at the statue behind the pulpit.  It was small, maybe half her height, and made from wood.  It was in the shape of a cross with a near-nude man in a thorny crown hanging from it.  

"Good evening, Marshal, we missed you at lunch and at the last meeting,"  

"Yes, I'm sorry for my absence... I was busy,"

"It don't matter to me, you're just here to watch us, not take command," Clemson chuckled. 

"I was looking for you, General Everett told me you were here... So... Is that Jesus?" The crucifix before them was rather unnerving to her.  

"Yes, Marshal... He made the greatest sacrifice anyone could ever make..." Clemson looked down at his folded hands. "I came here to pray after I heard that the Zebricans pushed us out of the Pine Forest.  Then after we figured out a way to counter it I returned... It doesn't help to get some divine help for these things," He smiled warmly before turning and looking at the thin canvas skin of the tent.  The dull orange of the setting sun was passing through the outside, but it was still horribly dim.

"Let's go back to the command center," Clemson pulled himself up with the pew before him and grabbed his cane. "I'll fill you in on our retaliation strategy," The two left that sanctuary tent and made their way back to the command center at the fort's center.  "Alright men," Clemson began as he stepped into the tent, causing the officers inside to snap to attention with salutes.  Clemson gave a quick salute. "At ease," He said, and they all finished their salutes.

"We're gonna tell Marshal Shimmer how we're gonna take that forest back," Clemson turned to Sunset. "Tell me, Marshal, have you ever heard of a substance by the name of Napalm?"

"No sir, I'm afraid I haven't," Sunset answered.

"Well, Marshal, It's a petroleum-based gel. The best description I can give is gasoline jelly," Clemson went over to the table. "We load it in long metal tanks and strap 'em to the bottoms of planes.  Usually, we do this to Mk6 Bloodhounds, they're single-engine attack planes that can haul three of 'em at once along with fuel and munitions," Clemson seemed rather proud that his military had those planes among their air force.

"And what do you plan to do with this napalm, sir?" 

"I'm glad you asked, Marshal," He pointed at a map on the table showing the massive pine forest. "When napalm is dropped it lights up forests like torches. It's damn near impossible to put out and with enough, you can burn a forest to the ground," He turned to Sunset with a sinister grin on his face. "We're gonna burn 'em out like beavers... Then we'll push 'em to the river.  Once we have the river and have pushed the forces in the east south of the river, we'll take the city," 

He looked to General Everett. "Are they ready?" 

"Yes sir, the Mighty Bees are fueled and loaded," Everett answered with a grin.

"Good," Clemson turned to Shimmer. "I hope to see you at suppertime, Marshal.  In the meantime, I'll be watching the takeoff,"

April 19th
North of the Traat River, Kingdom of North Zebrica

The night was dark, the waters were cold, and Isra was tired.  She knelt in formation alongside a dozen of her comrades under the now clear star-filled sky.  It had been a long day, the fighting had gone on for hours and the final charge had left even the most seasoned among them weary.  They were going to be there for some time, they had to wait for the river to lower so that artillery could finally be brought across.  Then, they would finally start pushing the invaders back.

Isra wanted to sleep, she could think of nothing better than sleep, on the ground or a cot, it did not matter.  Her rifle, though fairly light, was still heavy in her arms.  Her eyelids grew heavy as she sat there among her equally tired comrades.  But they stayed awake, doing their duty for the kingdom.  Still, Isra was nearing sleep, she was just about to close her eyes when she caught a familiar drone.  

It was the humming of a plane's engine, no, it was multiple.  Isra's eyes widened in terror, she recognized the engines clear as day.  That familiar roaring drone brought to mind images from days prior, it was those attack planes. 

"We need to retreat," She whispered to a closeby soldier.  Before they could respond the planes were on top of them, shaking the ground with their monstrous roar and blotting out the stars with their wings.  Then there was fire, explosive fires broke out all around them, the flames twirling and flicking as if in a cruel dance.  They came from nowhere as if they had erupted from the ground.  Isra and her comrades wasted no time, jumping up and running down the road south as fires erupted around them.
> Life Goes On
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

April 21st
Ponyville, Principality of Equestria

Ponyville sat between Canterlot and Cloudsdale as a quaint agricultural town surrounded by fields, pastures, and orchards that were connected by driveways and paths leading to barns and farmhouses.  The driveways extended out and connected to winding dirt roads that were frequented by foot traffic and horse and buggy traffic more than anything.  While the large population of farmers and ranchers made their homes in the many farmhouses.  

Those who weren't in the business of agriculture found their homes at the center of town.  Tall thatched roof buildings made up homes and shops for the less country of the rural Ponyville denizens.  The railroad tracks sat on the northeastern edge of town, serving the Canterlot, Manehattan, and Cloudsdale Railroad with passenger and freight service.  A large mixed-traffic depot sat along the tracks, serving the farms of the region.  

Also on the northeastern edge, next to the Everfree Forest and away from the farms was a quaint cottage covered by earth and grass on its roof with a stone exterior of odd shapes.  It was surrounded by birdhouses and even had a small stream flowing out front beneath a wooden bridge.  Living in this quaint and comfortable cottage were Fluttershy and her partner Rainbow Dash.  It was rather late in the morning at nearly a quarter-hour from ten o'clock.

Now, Rainbow Dash was stirring awake to start her morning.  She rolled over in the shared bed from her position facing the wall, reaching for her timid lover.  She was shocked to find Fluttershy's spot empty, with the covers neatly put at their positions just below the pillows.  

"Fl-... Flutters?" Rainbow Dash groggily called as she opened her cerise eyes to the blinding white light of the morning.  She sat up, rubbing her eyes and stretching with a yawn, blinking a few times to desensitize her eyes.  Rainbow Dash threw the warm covers off her body and climbed out of bed, going downstairs in nothing but an old oversized t-shirt. "Fluttershy?" She called yet again as she reached the foot of the stairs.

It was quiet, the only sound she heard was the quiet chirping of birds outside.  She looked in the modest kitchen, there was no one.  She looked around the living area and in the bathroom, but still, she found no one.  Rainbow Dash heard a small bark from outside, she knew it as the bark of Dusty.  Dusty was a stray dog, a mutt to be exact, who lived in the Everfree Forest alone.  He often came by to eat whatever Fluttershy would give him.

Rainbow Dash went outside through the cottage's side door where she finally found Fluttershy, fully dressed in her old patched coveralls and worn-out sneakers.  She was leaning over to pet the shaggy gray dog that was Dusty. "He sure likes you, huh?" Fluttershy jerked up, a look of pure surprise on her face as Rainbow Dash finally greeted her.

"Well I-it's nice to see you're finally awake," Fluttershy responded in her usual kind soft manner.  Rainbow Dash huffed.

"Finally? What do you mean by that?"

"It's... Almost ten o'clock..." Fluttershy answered with a small smile.

"Oh..." Rainbow Dash chuckled nervously. "Why didn't you uhh... Wake me up?"

"The alarm clock didn't go off, and you looked so peaceful that I didn't want to disturb you," Fluttershy answered, seeming somewhat apologetic.  Rainbow Dash went up to her, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. 

"Thanks, Flutters, I needed that," Fluttershy's face went red, even after all their years together Rainbow Dash still managed to make her blush with each kiss. 

"Y-you're welcome... Uhm..." Fluttershy tried finding something to say. "Have you um... Had breakfast yet?" 

"Nope,"

"Great," Fluttershy waved goodbye to Dusty, sending him back into his Everfree Forest home, and went inside with her partner in tow.  Rainbow Dash took her seat at the round kitchen table as Fluttershy made their breakfast.

"You sleep well last night?" 

"Oh, I slept wonderfully," Fluttershy answered joyfully as she dropped some bread into the toaster. "I guess you slept well too,"

"Yep," The toast finished and Fluttershy sat it before them with a jar of apple butter.  It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.  So I was thinkin'," Rainbow Dash began as she smeared apple butter on her toast. "After breakfast, we go into town," Fluttershy tensed up at the proposition.

"T-town?" She asked horrified, it wasn't that she hated Ponyville or the people there.  It was the number of them, the idea of them all looking at her, bumping into her, or trying to talk to her sent her blood cold.  "Are you sure?" she asked fearfully.

"Yep, it'll be nice to get out a little," Rainbow Dash answered trying to calm Fluttershy's nerves. "And after we get back, we won't leave the house for the rest of the weekend," Rainbow Dash smiled warmly at the nervous girl across from her.  Fluttershy eased up.

"I guess... It won't be that bad... Alright, we can do it, I need to pick up some things anyways," The two finished their small breakfast in silence and got ready for the day.  Rainbow Dash threw on a pair of jeans and her worn-out shoes, one thing she loved about being on leave was not having to follow a dress code.  Fluttershy grabbed her satchel and a small wicker basket, and the two left, locking the door behind them.  

Their small walkway ended at the wide dirt road into Ponyville that was sometimes frequented by loggers going into the massive Everfree forest.  Right now it was quiet and peaceful, the couple walked the winding road hand in hand.  Their walk took them to the railroad tracks on the edge of town.  They crossed the tracks, getting a quick glimpse at a very distant steam train coming from Cloudsdale.  Ponyville wasn't very busy that day, few people were walking the dirt streets with most at the cafes or shopping.

Few people were working in Ponyville that day aside from market owners and restauranteurs with store goers being among them.  They walked for some time before reaching the town's larger grocery store.  

"We'll just stop here real quick," Fluttershy said as they walked up to the glassy storefront.  The two went inside, it was a modest store, with crates of produce and other fresh goods at the center with more nonperishable goods lining the walls.  A counter at the back where a single old man stood.  Fluttershy went about the shopping, stopping at the produce crates, and Rainbow Dash stayed near the exit next to the newspaper rack.  

Normally, she would have paid the morning paper no mind, but for some reason, she found herself curious today.  She picked up a folded copy of the Ponyville Harold and was immediately greeted by large letters reading: Crystal Falls Shootout Leaves 34 Dead and Untold Wounded .  Rainbow Dash's morbid curiosity peaked.  While Fluttershy hated reading about such things, Rainbow Dash could not get enough of it.

It had been a shootout between some gang and local law enforcement, nothing super interesting.  Rainbow Dash turned the page, finding yet another article that piqued her interest.  Just above an advertisement for dishwashing soap was a photo of soldiers in steel helmets marching along a road, the article was titled. The River is in Sight.  It was the Confederates, Rainbow Dash remembered the meeting in Canterlot a short time ago.

She remembered what old Governor Thatcher had said: Spare me the talks of peace, these savages have used up the last of my mercy.  Apparently, he was being truthful, the article proved this.  Two great battles and they were on the road to the Traat River, Rainbow Dash had no clue where that was.  Anything outside of their home country and few allies was a mystery to her.  

"Alright, I'm ready," Fluttershy said cheerfully as she approached the rainbow-haired girl.  Rainbow Dash folded the newspaper and laid it back on the rack. 

"Good, let's go," The two of them left the store and started down the road. "So... Anywhere else?" Rainbow Dash asked as they strolled along.

"Umm... Nope, I think that's it," 

"Good, I guess that means we can head back-" Rainbow Dash was cut short as they almost bumped into somebody walking in the opposite direction.

"Pardon me, ma'am," They said in a southern accent as they halted just inches from the two.  They took a step back, giving the young couple a better view.  It was a man, a Confederate for sure with his peach-white skin.  He was older than them, maybe in his fifties with a crooked nose and wrinkled face sporting a dark gray goatee and short well kept hair.  He was thin and dressed in all black with a white collar wrapping around his neck and hidden partially under the shirt collar.  

In his large rough hands was a brown leather book depicting a gold inlaid cross and gold lettering spelling out Holy Bible tucked in his arm with a large guitar case and a black duffle bag in his other hand.

"Oh sorry," Rainbow Dash said with a chuckle. 

"It's nothin', I'm new to town, so I'm tryin' to get a lay of the place,"

"I can tell you're new here, I'm Rainbow Dash," She extended her hand out to the man. 

"James Parker Whitaker," The man responded meeting Rainbow Dash's hand with a firm handshake. "You can call me Brother Jimmy, or just Jimmy, it don't matter," He said with a warm smile.

"Well, Jimmy, it's nice to meet ya, this here's Fluttershy," Rainbow Dash gestured to her partner, who stood close to her.  Rainbow Dash chuckled. "She's... Shy," 

"Well, that's quite alright, Ms. Fluttershy and Ms. Dash, lot of folks ain't too good with strangers,"

"So what brings you to Ponyville, Jimmy?" 

"What brings anybody to a foreign country," Jimmy said with a laugh. "Evangelizin' for the most part, here on behalf of the Lord. I'd love to sit down and talk a bit more," 

"Maybe... W-we can go back to our cottage," Fluttershy recommended, much to their surprise. "We can have tea," 

"Well, that sounds like a fine idea, at least till I can find somewhere to stay," The three of them left town, largely in silence, and made their way to Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash's shared cottage.  Eventually, they made it there, the afternoon sun still high in the sky.  Fluttershy unlocked the door and the three of them entered, settling down in the living area.  Rainbow Dash sat on the oblong green couch while Jimmy took a seat in a chair nearby while Fluttershy went to the kitchen.

"It's nice to sit on a proper chair, the ride here wasn't so comfortable," Jimmy stated.

"Why's that?" Rainbow Dash questioned.

"I rode in on the mornin' freight train, and I sailed in on some little freighter, I'm just lucky the passage was cheap," Jimmy laughed out loud. "Travelin's always been my thing ya know," Fluttershy came in with the tea and other things needed.  She lit a small tea candle inside a wooden holder and sat the pot on top.  Jimmy continued as Fluttershy prepared their cups. "I don't think I've lived anywhere for longer than a few months," 

"Really? So you're a drifter?" 

"Yes ma'am, a travelin' preacher, spreadin' the good word anywhere I can and doin' whatever I can do for work. What about you Ms. Dash? What do you do for a livin'?"

"I'm a pilot, Royal Equestrian Air Corps," Rainbow Dash answered with pride.

"I was a pilot too," Jimmy said as Fluttershy handed him a cup and dish, he thanked her and continued as she took her seat next to Fluttershy. "Service is mandatory back in the states and I got in on the Army Spottin' Corps. I flew artillery spotting planes, I spent a lot of time up in the Midwest fightin' their war," He took a sip from the tea. "This here's nice tea, Ms. Fluttershy, ya did good," 

"Th-thank you," She cuddled up to Rainbow Dash with hers, this caught Jimmy's eye.

"I see y'all are... In a relationship with one another..." Jimmy said with a bit of discomfort.

"Yeah, there's nothing wrong with that is there?"

"No... No, it's all fine... Let's move on from that," Jimmy shifted gears. "Let me tell ya somethin', are you a fighter pilot?"

"Sir yes sir," Rainbow Dash answered.

"Well let me tell you somethin', you've got it easy 'cause they'll ignore you," Jimmy started chuckling "Forget the fighters, forget the bombers, the spotters are what they want.  If you're tellin' the artillerymen where to drop their shells, they're gonna try and drop you,"

"Sounds rough," Rainbow Dash replied with some feeling of indifference.

"Rough doesn't begin to cover it," Jimmy laughed and took another sip of his tea. "Yeah, I got out after doin' my five years and went to seminary.  After that, I became a ramblin' man, goin' wherever the freight trains and willing drivers could take me," Jimmy leaned back and took a deep breath. "Yep, I've been all over North America, I spent some time in Deseret, and let me tell you somethin' Mormons ain't too kind to Pentecostals," Jimmy let out a hearty chuckle. 

"I got the bejesus beaten out of me in Salt Lake City and ran off to Sacramento for a couple months. They're a bit kinder over there, and I hitchhiked all the way to San Diego, San Fransisco, Los Angeles, and then I rode up to Portland which... Is a long haul," 

"Um... I don't know where any of that is." Rainbow Dash gave an apologetic chuckle.

"Oh yeah, I forgot y'all ain't from Earth. So anyways I ended up goin' to the Great Lakes for a while, it's a beautiful country up that way. Those lakes truly are great," Jimmy gave yet another chuckle. "I eventually went down to Pittsburgh and back down into the CSA. That was all about four or five years of travelin' and preachin', I stayed in Dixie for a while after that and went about as far west as Cananae in the state of Sonora.  I spent the longest time in Kentucky, which was only about a year,"

"Seems you're quite the adventurer," Rainbow Dash told Jimmy with a hint of envy.

"Yes ma'am," He said with pride. "I traveled across Dixie for the rest of my time, the last place I was holed up before comin' over here was a little town called Whynot Mississippi, it was about like this town. It was nice and quiet, they had a little church called Water Valley Pentecostal Holiness church being preached to by a guy named Jimmy, I helped 'em out of course," Jimmy started laughing. "It was funny whenever somebody'd call out 'Brother Jimmy' and the two of us would turn around. What's even funnier is we didn't look the least bit alike, that Jimmy was a big fat man with a mustache who didn't wear one of these white collars. He worked in the tile industry, he was an alright guy,"

"So how'd you end up here then?" Rainbow Dash pried.

"Well, the Confederacy and just about all of North America was Christian, and if I went out east they'd kill me, so I joined up with the immigration program. I had planned on runnin' around in the south near Zebrica till... The war... So I decided to come over here without a dollar to my name," Jimmy sat his tea down. "I reckon I need a job, so I can pay for a hotel or somethin'. Till then I reckon I'll camp out, y'all got a creek nearby?"

"Now h-hold on, Mr.  Jimmy," Fluttershy began. "I think we know somebody who could help," 

"Oh yeah," Rainbow Dash said as if a lightbulb went off in her head. "We have a close friend named Applejack, I feel like her family could use some farmhands," 

"Well alright then, let's go meet her," Fluttershy put away the tea set and the three of them set off on their long walk through and away from town to the orchard that was Sweet Apple Acres.  The place was marked by a bright red two-story farmhouse preceding an equally red barn surrounded by luscious apple trees.  They found Applejack walking around the barn with a burlap sack of chicken feed thrown over her shoulder.

Applejack spotted the three as they came up the road and went to meet them up at the side of the house.  

"Well howdy there," She greeted, setting the sack on the ground. "Who's this gentleman?" 

"I'm Jimmy Whitaker," Jimmy greeted, extending his hand to Applejack. "You must be Applejack, they tell me you might have some work and boardin',"

"I don't know 'bout that now... Hold on a sec,"  Applejack went inside through the back door and emerged a moment later. "I talked to Granny Smith, and she said she'd like t' meet ya first,"

"That's fine by me, let's meet her," Jimmy and Applejack started off inside.

"You two wanna come in?" 

"Sorry AJ," Rainbow Dash said apologetically. "We're... Busy right now,"

"Oh that's alright, I don't wanna interrupt your time together," Applejack gave them a wink "See y'all later," She said leaving the two and going inside with Jimmy. 

"Bye," Rainbow Dash said with a quick wave.

"Bye," Fluttershy said alongside and they started back home.  By the time they reached the modest cottage, the sun was going down.  The sky had turned brilliant red orange and deep blue as twilight began to set in.  Fluttershy unlocked the door and the couple stepped into the dimly lit house.  Rainbow Dash turned on the lights, casting a dull glow across the living area as a small fixture in the ceiling came to life.  "I'm gonna give the animals dinner, ok," Fluttershy said as she headed toward the back door.

"Do you need help?" Rainbow Dash asked.

"No, I think I can get it," Fluttershy answered with a smile, going outside and leaving Rainbow Dash alone.  Rainbow Dash kicked off her shoes and went over to the wooden radio sitting on a table between the chair and couch.  

"Good evening, Canterlot and surrounding areas!" The voice of a young and wild DJ belted out through the radio "Today we're doin' things a little different.  With the arrival of aliens from another planet we've decided to get in contact with one of their radio stations.  Please give a hearty Canterlot welcome to John Granger, on-call call from station 107.6 The Rebel"

"Hello?" A voice with a southern accent calls through heavy interference 

"You're on the air, Mister Granger,"

"Right... So do you wanna kick off with a little music?"

"Yes sir, what do you think we should play?" 

"I reckon since that war's goin' on... Let's play something for the soldiers, this here's Travelin' Soldier by Cody Johnson,"

"You heard it from him folks, your first taste of Earth music is Travelin' Soldier sung by Cody Johnson," The song started with a slow drum beat and soft guitar playing before the soulful voice of a southerner began.

"Two days past eighteen. He was waiting for the bus in his army green," He continued on singing about a girl and a soldier in love, picking up speed as he went along.  Rainbow Dash found the song surprisingly enjoyable, if not a little sad near the end.  Fluttershy came back inside right as the song finished.

"Whatcha listening to," She asked, dusting her hands off.

"Just some 'Earth music', it's actually pretty good," 

"I guess I'll join you then," Fluttershy took a seat next to Rainbow Dash, cuddling up real close to her to listen.

"So, Mister Granger, what's our next number for the night?" the DJ asked.

"Well... I reckon we ought to listen to a song called When The Stars Come Out by a man named Chris Stapelton," The song that played was yet another one that started softly before a man with a rough voice began singing about love and traveling.  The song went on as the two sat nestled with each other on the couch, embracing each other after a long day.  Eventually, Fluttershy fell asleep snuggling against her lover.

"Goodnight Flutters," Rainbow Dash said, giving her partner a kiss on the cheek.
> Traat River: First Offensive
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

April 23rd
Traat River, Kingdom of North Zebrica

The earth quaked as guns fired, sending massive 150mm shells out into the air.  The roar of gunfire echoed over the plains of the Zebrican nation.  The shells landed on their targets, tall earthwork fortresses and floating gun batteries were their destinations.  The earthworks did not crumble, the batteries stayed afloat, and all their targets seemed to shrug off the explosive shells with impunity.  The shells were merely a prelude to the actual attack.

On the ground, trudging through the tall grass and thick mud between the artillery and flooded river were the men of the 8th Siege Battalion, at their head was Lieutenant Colonel Beauregard "Beau" Green.  The man was middle-aged, his round face marked with age lines and wrinkles.  He led his men with his rifle slung over his shoulder.  The men he led carried with them the equipment needed for this siege: ladders, explosives, and grappling guns.

All their gear was piled into rigid boats and heavy backpacks, the journey was hard, before them was nothing but mosquitos and mud that smelled of excrement.  

"Hell is nothin' compared to here," Green muttered to himself, adjusting his helmet.  An explosion roared from nearby, causing his men to drop down.  "All men up!" He commanded, "It was one of ours!" As he said this more shells exploded nearby. "We must be near the river... Forward!" He motioned for his men to follow him.  The men at his command, numbering about three hundred, were all experienced.  

His men had seen action in the Russian War, some in the Arab Conflict preceding it.  He had seen action as far back as the Oil Wars, a hot humid hell was nothing new to him.  Though in Venezuela the mud did not suck against his boots as he walked.  They continued their walk, the mud giving way to water as they got closer to the river.  Finally, the tall grass gave way to the wide and flooded Traat River, he ordered his men to halt.  

More than a dozen batteries floated the river, ships with slanted sides sporting lines of guns that looked more like the monitors of old.  Among them were two beasts, one that the soldiers had named Pancake and Flatcar.  They were massive flat-topped monitors spotting only a conning tower and monstrous dual eleven-inch guns on the top deck.  Green pulled a pair of high-powered binoculars from a pouch at his side.  

He peered through them, watching the tall solid earthworks as men marched about atop their fortresses.

"They ain't scared," Sergeant Major John McGraw said, McGraw was a black man, shorter and stockier than Green with a mustache.  Mcgraw pulled out a pair of matching binoculars.

"They're the elites," Green responded as McGraw put the binoculars to his eyes.  McGraw spotted the soldiers, fine and clean uniforms with berets and bolt action rifles.  Water-cooled machine guns sat atop the walls on mounts.

"They'll be tough alright," McGraw said "But that's why we're here," Green grunted.

"But that boat," The two peered at the long gun battery sitting between the walls and them along the more than between them. "That's gonna be a bitch to deal with... The artillery ain't doin' shit," A shell roared overhead like a sonic freight train, hitting the water with a hellish splash.  Three more came roaring in, two striking the battery, yielding no results. "Lieutenant Briggs!" Green called.

"Coming, sir!" A young Lieutenant wearing a field phone on his back called back as he trudged toward the two men.  He handed Green the phone.  Green called in a strike, this one would use the fearsome HGR-10 Johnny Reb heavy rocket.    

"Alright, J, We got a rocket comin' in," Green told McGraw.  Moments later, a roaring whistle broke the air. "All men down!" He commanded.  The whole battalion dropped into the mud as the whistle ended with a roaring explosion.  A wave of heat and sound boomed over the soldiers, leaving the air filled with the sound of falling debris.  Mixed with the crackling of fire and screams of dying crewmen.  

Green and McGraw stood up to see the once firm and unyielding gun battery reduced to a smoldering mass of broken steel.  Artillery shells blew up with the heat as the fires penetrated the ammo stores.  The beast sunk in a few short minutes, taking its arsenal of 75mm guns with it.  Bodies floated in the river, soldiers ran along the walls in a frenzy.   

"All men split up! Four to a boat! Spread out wide!" Green commanded, and his men followed suit, shouting the command over the whole column and getting the men to split up.  Boats split were split up among four men and grouped in two with one carrying a ladder and the other crates of plastic explosives and charges.  Green and McGraw were with three others in a boat carrying only them and Lieutenant Briggs.  "Lieutenant Briggs, sound the attack," said Green, standing on the prow of the boat.

"Aye sir," Lieutenant Briggs gave the order and the boats pushed off, exiting from the tall grass on the shallow water and into the deeper parts of the river.  Green slung the rifle off his shoulder and held it by the grip in one hand.  As soon as the boats got into the water the walls were lit up by machine guns and rifle fire.  Green readied his rifle, as did McGraw.  They fired at the wall in semi-automatic, taking aim at every individual man on the wall.

"Keep rowing men!" He commanded over the torrent of gunfire. "We need to reach the base of the wall!" The battalion rowed hard, and boats and men were struck, sinking in the cold river.   McGraw fell over, dropping his rifle into the river. "You good?!" 

"It's just a graze, I'll be fine" He got himself back up, grabbing the Bridgewood P98 10mm pistol hanging at his hip.  Blood was dripping down his arm.  Finally, their boat reached the base of the wall, others following suit.

"Get those charges planted!" Green commanded the nearby boat duos.  Soldiers took out their picks and augers and got to work making holes for their charges.  Bullets whizzed by, and Green and the others on board retaliated.  Boats were still crossing the churning waters of the river, fighting a current stirred up by the commotion.  What few men who had already made it started on their job of boring holes into the base of the wall.

They took their hefty electric hammer drills and pickaxes and got to work under the storm of led shot raining down on them.  While some drilled and picked away at the walls, others took out their heavy grappling rifles, firing them up the walls and latching them at the top.  Green joined in, picking up the grappling gun in his boat and aiming the beast at the wall.  His hook landed over the wall and was pulled tight over the edge.  

Green hooked a lanyard to the harness on his plate carrier and hooked it to the cable.  He placed his boots against the wall and started to climb, gripping the cable with his gloved hands.  McGraw followed suit, clipping his lanyard to the cable, a monstrous explosion messed up Green and McGraw's footing.  One of the charges had been detonated, sending a cloud of earthen dust out over the river.  Yet the wall was unphased, and more charges went off, preventing the two men from properly scaling the wall. 

To make matters worse, those charges did nothing to break down the wall.  

"Damnit, we gotta keep climbing! All men up the wall!" Green commanded.  Green and McGraw regained their footing and continued up the wall, the others in the boat following suit.  They topped the wall, finding it still crawling with soldiers, Green took out two before they could retaliate. "Get a rifle!" He ordered McGraw, who was still using his pistol.  McGraw holstered the pistol and picked up a bolt action rifle from a dead soldier.   

The squad moved east along the wall, encountering resistance the whole way, they stopped at what looked to be some sort of encampment along the wall.  It was complete with homemade tents and cots, they stopped there.  A squad of soldiers joined them there, a full two-boat crew. 

"Lieutenant Colonel Green," Their captain called. "The charges ain't doin' shit, sir, what the hell do we do?!"

"We take the Goddamned wall!" 

"Hey, Beau!" McGraw called, turning Green's attention away from the captain.  McGraw was peering through his binoculars. "We got reinforcements marchin' east," Green pulled out his binoculars, spotting a column of olive-dressed Zebrican regulars marching along the wall.

"Son of a bitch... Briggs!"

"Sir?!"

"Get me that phone, we need close support," Green grabbed the phone. "Send a Goddamned chopper!" He called through the phone. "We're on the wall, east of Site 311 and there's a column of infantry on approach to our position!" More troops joined Green and the others coming from the west.

"What's the status, Lieutenant Colonel?" their squad commander asked. 

"We've got a chopper inbound for support! ETA five minutes!" A few more charges went off in the distance.  The column got close to them, opening fire in an old-style volley.  Green and his men returned fire in burst mode, cutting down scores of them, who still held resistance.  Then the machine guns opened up, and several mag-fed machine guns fired into the makeshift encampment the men were holding out.

Three men fell right then, even with the heavy resistance from Green and his men they still seemed to get the upper hand.  They kept their fight going, slinging steel shot at them with roars that completely filled the air.  Not a sound could be heard besides the roar of rifle and machine gun fire.  Yet Green and his men stood strong until the thump of a twin-bladed chopper filled the air.  The thin body of a new and experimental Falcon attack helicopter made its debut on the field.  

The gunner aimed the 22mm three-barreled cannon at the column of Zebricans gathered on the wall and let hell loose.  They fell into heaps of blood and body matter, staining the brown earthen walkway a crimson red.  The chopper roared past them and looped back around.  Green took the phone from Briggs.

"Stay here Dixie 1, we're gonna need ya!" He told the chopper's crew over the phone.  "Alright men, let's move up!" Green commanded.  His men moved further up the wall, stepping, trying their best to avoid the mess left by the chopper.  They kept along the wall, it was barren and deadly silent.  There were no men on the walls beside him and his squad.  Green stopped and held his hand up. "I don't like this..." He mumbled dreadfully.  

He spotted a set of grappling hooks hanging on the wall and went over to them, peering over to the water below. "Christ..." Floating in the water were several boats, all of them filled with corpses and floating freely in the river among the bodies of their comrades and Zebricans killed by the explosion.  "It's a Goddamn massacre... We need to turn-" He was cut short as bullets whizzed by him.  Climbing up the stairs onto the walls were more Zebrican troops.

"Shit!" He aimed his rifle, pulling the trigger on an empty mag "Fuck!" He went to change the magazine but was cut short when a searing hot sharp pain erupted in his shoulder.  He dropped his rifle and felt the warmth of his blood as it dripped down his arm.  He had been shot, he could not move his arm, and he stumbled back, falling on his back.  McGraw rushed to his side, grabbing the gauze from Green's plate carrier pouch.  The soldiers moved forward, forming a perimeter around Green

"You good Beau?!" McGraw asked frantically as he packed the wound.

"The bastards shot me..." Green groaned out almost jokingly.

"We're gonna get you the hell outta here! Briggs!" Briggs came over with the phone, knowing just what McGraw wanted.  McGraw took the phone "We need a Jolly Green out here ASAP! LC Green is down!" McGraw handed the phone back to Briggs with a worried look on his face.  "The chopper ain't comin'!" He shouted "There's... Too many wounded!"

"Get goin' then..." Green grunted. "Get down the wall and start walkin' back,"  McGraw heard this and contemplated for a moment.  Bullets whizzed by, the men were at his command with ammo running low and an incapacitated Lieutenant Colonel.

"Briggs! Phone!" Briggs handed him the phone "Dixie 1... Light it up down east and cover our retreat!" The chopper roared over to them, firing upon the gathered Zebrican soldiers as McGraw and his remaining men attempted to scale down the wall into one of the corpse-filled boats.  With an injured Green and around five other men they slowly dropped into the already heavily loaded boat.  The chopper circled overhead as they rowed across the gargantuan river, fighting the current and scattered debris in their way.  

They reached the northern shore of the river, being forced to tass the corpses in the boat overboard to make a makeshift stretcher for Green.  They trudged north, tired and sweaty, moving without a sense of proper direction until they finally reached the end of the swampy mud field and stepped on solid ground.  They walked in the blistering heat of the sun, their feet blistered and their spirits wore down until the sound of a chopper filled the air.

A lighter chopper, one similar to the eagles with a long slender body and wheels in place of skids was on approach.  McGraw wearily tossed a blue smoke grenade, sending a cloud of blue smoke up into the sky to mark their location.  The forest green and gold cross-marked chopper made its landing before the ragged and weary men.  It was like a guardian angel coming to rescue them, the men collapsed from exhaustion as soon as the doors to the chopper opened.  

They were loaded into the chopper and hauled away.
> The Long and Continuous Life of Field Marshal Sunset Shimmer
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

April 25th
Fort Ironside, Kingdom of North Zebrica

Reveille played over the base, stirring Sunset from her slumber.  She rubbed her head as she sat up in her cot, the sun puncturing the canvas skin of her tent like a hot knife being jabbed into her eyes.  She reached under her two stacked pillows and pulled a clear bottle of brown liquor from underneath.  She popped the cork out and took a hefty swallow from the bottle.  She jammed the cork back in and stuck it under the pillow, it was just enough to get her out of bed.  

She washed her face with the basin in her well-furnished tent and brushed her teeth before dressing herself and stepping out into the heat of the morning.  A chopper roared overhead, as she exited into the crowded fort, it was a medevac chopper as the Confederates called it.  A large golden cross marked the side as it passed overhead, Sunset paid it little mind as she made her way through the camp, trying to find something to do.

"Marshal Shimmer, Ma'am!" A soldier called, Sunset turned to face the young man.

"Yes, soldier?"

"Marshal Clemson has asked you to meet him at the landing strip ASAP!" He gave a stiff salute and charged off through the crowds of other men.  Sunset sighed before starting off to the airstrip at the eastern side of the fort.  She reached it sometime later, finding it the same as always—a dirt strip lined by forest green trimotor transports and helicopters.  An army transport started down the strip, dust filling the air as its fat tires rolled along.  

Sunset walked along the side of the strip, watching the plane roar past as it took off from the dirt strip and went up into the clear blue of the morning sky.  Sunset eventually found Clemson, he was watching another plane be loaded up with troops in a mix of forest green and khaki fatigues.  Clemson leaned against a small light utility vehicle watching the mixed bag of men load.

"Good morning, Marshal Shimmer," He greeted when Sunset arrived, his face lacking expression, he sipped from a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Good morning, Marshal Clemson" Sunset returned, joining him by the vehicle to watch.

"I assume you slept well?" 

"Yes sir" Sunset replied, lying to Clemson.  Truthfully, Sunset had slept little the previous night, her memories were coming back.  Sunset repressed any of the rougher memories of her time at war, she did so with alcohol and tobacco.  The night prior had been a rough one, her mind flashed with stills from long ago.  The liquor she kept with her at all times seemed to be the only thing that could quell her shell-shocked mind.  

"Very well," Clemson turned his attention back to the plane, the soldiers were now fully loaded and the engines were coming to life.  It was far enough away that the noise did not hamper the two's conversation. "Those are the new boys..." Clemson finally said in a low tone. "The offensive against the south side of the river was a Goddamn massacre..." Sunset was about to say something when the sound of piston engines came from the distance. "Must be Thatcher,"

"Governor Thatcher? I didn't know he was coming today,"

"I guess some runners don't know how to run then. Lieutenant Ridley was supposed to inform you of Thatcher's arrival yesterday morning," Clemson stated frustrated. "Useless, he should never have made Lieutenant," 

"I'm certain there were other factors besides his incompetence, Marshal Clemson," Sunset said, almost sympathizing with this Lieutenant Ridley.

"Say what you will, but he still did not go through with his orders... I'll have him burning shit until this war is over," Eventually, the plane carrying Thatcher arrived, it was the same style of creme-colored M88 AIrliner Sunset and Clemson has arrived in.  It landed near them, passing by the now fully ready transport nearby, and parked before the two.  Its roaring radial engines puttered to silence and the rear door was opened from within by a soldier.  

Out stepped Thatcher, dressing in a tan shirt and khaki work pants with a white Stetson and dark aviator shades on his bald head.  Behind him were two soldiers carrying his bags including what looked like weapon cases.  Thatcher came over to the two officers.

"Mornin' Clemson, mornin' Shimmer," He greeted smiling, shaking their hands.

"Good morning Governor Thatcher" Sunset greeted, giving a quick salute.

"Hell don't call me that, I ain't Govneror Thatcher today, I'm just ole Aaron Thatcher," The two soldiers carrying the weapon cases sat them on the bed of the LUV along with a green aluminum ammo box. "Sit my other things in the officer's tent," Thatcher ordered the men with his other bags. 

"What have we got here, Thatcher?" Clemson asked looking at the cases.

"You know what we got Jed," Thatcher said with a laugh.  He unzipped one of the cases while Sunset and Clemson looked on.  Inside was a wooden bolt action rifle with a scope mounted on top.     

"Well, I ain't seen this 'un in a couple of years," Clemson grinned "The ole Bridgewood Master,"

"Yep, chambered in .30-15, Mauser style action, seven and a half pounds, and thirty-four hundred pounds of Confederate power to create a crack that puts a Big John cannon to shame," Thatcher dropped the small box magazine from the rifle and sat the gun down.

"Excuse me, sir," Sunset began "Might I have a look at this rifle?"

"Sure thing, that ain't even the star of the show," Thatcher answered as he opened the metal box to load his rifle.  Sunset carefully took the rifle, finding it lighter than the service rifle she carried for years.  She looked it over, the stock of the rifle from barrel to but was nicked and scratched from years of use, and a simple leather strap crossed it from end to end.  She held the rifle in her shoulder, pointing it safely to the sky and peering through the long scope.

Sunset lowered the gun, racking the bolt back and closing it in two smooth easy motions.  She went for the safety, finding a button safety by the trigger rather than a flag safety on the bolt.  She clicked it off and stuck it in her shoulder, squeezing the solid trigger and producing a dry click as the hammer shot forward.  She re-engaged the safety and handed it back to Thatcher, who was finished loading the box magazine.

"Thank you, ma'am," He took the rifle and loaded the magazine, tapping it in and setting it down.  "Now here is the real star" Thatcher unzipped the other case and pulled out a short and ugly bolt action rifle, this one was also mounted with a scope.

"Well, I'll be... Is that a?" Clemson was cut off.

"A rifle chambered in .505 Gibbs, this here is Equestrian built too. It's a Vanhoover & Co. Bull Rifle, brand new," Thatcher seemed proud of his rifle.

"How in the hell did you get it?" Clemson asked.

"Ms. Inkwell knows how to pull a few strings," Thatcher answered grabbing a few round solid shots from the ammo box and tucking them into the pocket of his pants.  "I reckon I'll let you have a go at it today," 

"What exactly are we doing today?" Sunset asked, ignorant of the two men's plans.

"Lion huntin'!" Thatcher excitedly exclaimed as he sat the short rifle down "Somethin' ya can't do back on Earth without incurring the wrath of every environmentalist from California to Prussia. But here, there's plenty of lions for us to hunt, scoring one ought to be enough to say we did,"

"How do you suppose we find one?" Sunset asked, lion hunting was something she was unfamiliar with, even with her time in New Equestria.  The most she hunted was deer at her childhood home in northern Equestria.

"a couple of pilots who were out scouting a few days ago said they spotted a decent-sized oasis some thirty miles southeast," Clemson answered. "Said they saw about three lions including one with the most gorgeous mane, we'll start there," 

"And how do we get there?"

"Bush plane!" Thatcher said excitedly. "it'll get us there easily" Right as he finished, the transport started down the runway, taking off into the blue sky.  Thatcher's smile dropped as he watched "Hmph, I see the new ones are going off,"

"Yes sir... The attack was a massacre," Clemson's face sank. 

"It's a shame, those fellers are young..." Thatcher turned to Sunset "Most of our troops here are veterans, just about all of them fought in Russia. But those... They ain't never seen action," Thatcher bowed his head for a few seconds "Amen..." He finally said before putting his rifles back in their cases.  The two soldiers that arrived with Thatcher returned carrying small crates of goods and canteens.  They all started down the runway until they made it to a gray high-winged single-engine utility plane.

"Here she is, the Domestic Aircraft Company Sprinter Bush Plane," Thatcher exclaimed joyfully. "Let's fly,"  Thatcher opened the door on the side of the plane's fuselage, allowing all of his accompaniment to enter before squeezing in himself.  He took his seat in the pilot's seat next to Clemson, the others behind him.

"I never would've thought you were a pilot," Sunset said surprised.

"Yes ma'am, I have a cabin up in Appilachia you can only get to with a bush plane, I figured learning to fly was better than paying somebody to fly for ya,"  Thatcher went through a pre-flight checklist, checking the plane's many integral parts before finally starting its piston engine.  The four-bladed prop spun to life, Thatcher took his hat off, putting an integrated headset on.  After a quick call with air traffic control, Thatcher started his small plane down the runway.  

The plane took off at a surprisingly short distance, Thatcher taking it into the sky and turning it southeast.  They flew over the grassy planes of the Zebrican nation, seeing little in the way of wildlife besides some buffalo. "I tell you what!" Thatcher began, calling out over the roar of the plane's engine "If we can't catch ourselves a lion we might ought to look at some of them buffalo!"  

Eventually, they found this oasis, a large lake of clear water surrounded by tall crooked acacia trees, buffalo, and zebras drank from the oasis.  All the animals seemed to flee as the plane roared overhead so for one.  Thatcher leaned the plane as it passed over, allowing him a better look at this single animal.  It was a lion, big and broad, with a thick mane of dark hair around his neck.  A truly regal and noble beast it was, its title of king was shining through here.

"There he is!" Thatcher exclaimed "That son of a bitch will do just fine! What do you think Jed, pelt rug, head mount, or full body taxidermy?"

"I'd kill for a full-body taxidermy!" Clemson answered, "I think it'd look great in that new capital we're building!" 

"Now that you mention it, we need to talk about that when we land! I reckon we'll touch down about a mile out!" Thatcher made one more pass over the oasis before turning northwest and touching down some distance from the oasis.  The five of them climbed out of the plane, Thatcher grabbing the rifle cases and taking the rifles from them, handing Clemson the buffalo rifle and keeping the Master.  Each of them grabbed a canteen and pair of binoculars, and they started toward the oasis, leaving the soldiers alone.

"Alright, now that we're on the ground," Thatcher began, talking lowly. "I'm gonna need you back in New Richmond around the first of the month,"

"Why's that?" Clemson asked.

"We're trying to build congress up there, you need to be present for that, Field Marshal Thomas Bull's gonna take your place,"

"That son of a bitch?" Clemson asked, anger crossing his face "That man is too brash and reckless,"

"Correction, he WAS brash and reckless. I'd argue that being stripped of command over the forces in Mexico taught him a pretty good lesson," 

"Here's hopin', we don't need a repeat of that incident on the border of Sanora,"

"Don't remind me, that and the Van Dreiser Incident are things it would be best we forget," Thatcher turned to Sunset "So are you gonna leave with Clemson? Or are you gonna stay and deal with Bull?" 

"I see no reason to return," Sunset answered "I'm still observing your army in action... Now that I think about it, I have yet to really observe our troops," Sunset thought for a moment, stopping. "Governor Thatcher, if it is at all possible, I would like to observe closer to the front lines," Thatcher raised an eyebrow at her inquiry, throwing his rifle over his shoulder and rubbing his bearded chin.

"Well... I don't know if that's such a good idea, our own Marshals are put at enough of risk going to the front. I'd rather you not return to Equestria in a coffin with an apology letter," 

"Now wait a minute here, Thatcher," Clemson said, leaning on his cane. "We could at least allow her to go close to the front, perhaps she could watch at the rear,"

"Hmm, fair point, she'd get to watch the artillery... Alright, Marshal Shimmer, we'll send you there in two days' time. Which brings us to something else," They started walking again "How the hell are we gonna take the river?"

"That's what I'm wondering, that the first attack was, as we know, a massacre. We haven't seen it that bad since the Great War," 

"What about the air cavalry?" Thatcher said "We have yet to truly utilize them here, this would be the perfect time to really use them,"

"Yes but how?"

"We could land on their weakest area, using heavy choppers to carry artillery and using medium bombers to level the area beforehand. Though we should probably wait and discuss this back at the base," They finally neared the oasis, perching on a hill overlooking it, the lion still stood there. The three got down and looked through their binoculars. "Alright, here's the plan" Thatcher stuck his rifle into his shoulder. "I'm gonna shoot him through the shoulder, which should at least mortally wound him. If that doesn't work, Jed, that rifle ought to work,"  

Thatcher racked a round into the chamber and peered down the scope.  The lion sat in a near-perfect position, its back was to the trio, giving Thatcher a clear shot at its shoulder.  "There we go..." He grinned "Cover your ears, Shimmer, it's gonna be loud," Sunset lowered her binoculars and plugged her ears.  Thatcher drew in a deep breath and clicked the safety off, placing his finger at the trigger, and giving it a firm squeeze. Bang! 

The shot echoed over the planes as the bullet struck its target.  The lion let out a mighty pained roar as the bullet penetrated the muscle in his shoulder.  He turned away, limping as he did.  "You think that got him?" Thatcher asked as he chambered another round, trailing the beast.  The lion fell, huffing away as blood started to pool around his mouth. 

"I reckon so," Clemson answered "Looks like you struck a lung, you ought to finish him off," Thatcher aimed for the shoulder again and fired another round, hitting him around the same spot.

The lion rested its head on the ground, seemingly dead.  Thatcher stood up, Sunset following suit with Clemson being helped up by Thatcher.  

"Here's the plan," Thatcher began "Shimmer, you take the bull rifle and keep watch on me and Jed while we check on that lion," Clemson handed Sunset the heavy ugly rifle, she racked the bolt, chambering one of the massive rounds.  Thatcher and Clemson carefully descended the steep hill and approached the lion.  Thatcher and Clemson stood over the beast, looking it over.  Thatcher knelt before its head, Clemson getting close as well, and pulled its lips back, checking its teeth.

"Look at these," Thatcher said chuckling triumphantly.  Just then, the lion let out a low rumbling groan, its eyes snapping open. "Shit..." Thatcher mumbled as the lion slowly rose to its feet, baring its long teeth that Thatcher had been admiring mere seconds earlier. "Hey Shimmer!" He shouted as he took a step back, the lion slowly crawling to him with Clemson looking on in horror.  Blam!  The lion fell to the ground, certainly dead now a hard .505 bullet ripped through its back. 

Thatcher gazed up at the hill, finding Sunset standing there, the rifle still in her shoulder with smoke trailing from the barrel in the light breeze.  Thatcher began to chuckle yet again, this light chuckling soon evolved into loud boisterous laughter. Sunset, one who was normally not one for laughter joined in as well, much to the surprise of both men.  "There's a story to tell at supper! Holy shit... y'all stay here, I'm gonna call a chopper from the plane,"

Sunset and Clemson stayed near the lion whilst Thatcher walked the mile to the plane and back, having called a chopper.  He plopped down next to the two of them on the hill where they rested, gently laying his rifle down.  "The chopper's gonna be here in about twenty minutes give or take, we'll fly back when they load the lion on board. So Shimmer," Thatcher looked at Sunset "How's it feel knowin' you saved my life?"

"Like nothing, sir," Sunset answered. "Just felt like I was doing my job,"

"Makes sense, you know that ain't the first time I was nearly killed on a huntin' trip," Thatcher chuckled a little.

"Really?" Sunset asked, curious to hear more.

"Yes ma'am, let me tell you about that time I fell in a river huntin' turkeys,"

"Dear God..." Clemson said, rubbing his face in frustration "How many times are you gonna tell that damned story?" 

"As many times as I wish Jed," Thatcher answered, giving him the side eye. "He hates this story, but I'll tell it anyway... So it was back about twenty years ago in a place called Newton County Mississippi, near a small town called Chunky. Now Newton County don't have much aside from the highway and Newton City, which ain't that impressive anyways. But it has a ton of forest, and where there's forest, there's turkeys," 

Thatcher cleared his throat before continuing "So I said twenty years ago, right? Anyways so it was February opening day of turkey season, it was about forty degrees that day.  Me, this feller from my town named CC Roberson, and some guy from Chunky, think his name was Roy, were walkin' the Chunky River. Normally that river wouldn't be awful, it would just be a shallow river with steep sides, but it had rained real bad a couple days before, so it was flooded real bad,"

"The waters were up the bank, makin' it deep as hell. So we were walkin' along the river, lookin' for turkeys and talkin' about whatever when it happened... I stepped on a sandy spot on the bank, my foot fallin' out from under me and sending into the rushing river. My head fell below the water and I began flowin' downriver.  I fought the current with all my strength, bobbin' up and down in the water with my rifle in hand," Thatcher paused for a moment in remembrance. 

"Eventually, after fighting for my life, I get caught on a fallen tree in the middle of the river.  There I am, the full force of the water pushin' against me," His tone turned dramatic. "I have my rifle in one hand, so I raise it up like a flair gun, preparing to fire off a shot to give away my location when I spot something out of the corner of my eye..." He paused. "It was a beast of a male wild turkey, beautiful plumes of feathers on his tale... So I had a choice, fire a shot in the air and spook him... Or fire a shot at him and have the most beautiful turkey I'd ever seen..."

"Oh Christ," Clemson muttered

"I aimed my rifle, holding it like a pistol and clicking the safety off... I aim the gun at his chest and squeeze the trigger... My arm was killin' me after that shot but I killed him and alerted those two fellers to my location," Thatcher began to laugh "You should've seen their faces when they found me half drowned in a river having just killed a gorgeous turkey, I think ole CC was plannin' to leave my ass there,"

"You change that story every time you tell it," Clemson stated boldly "Why don't you tell the one where the turkey attacks you and you snap its neck?"

"You're comin' on in years old timer, you're makin' shit up now," Thatcher chuckled "I know damn well what happened, that river gave me frostbite in my feet and I lost two toes, I can prove it," He reached for his boot laces.

"I think we can do without that," Interjected Sunset.

"Fine then, I can tell you about the time I was a cowboy out in the west. I met my wife doin' that stuff," 

"When the hell was that?" Clemson asked.

"Between Cuba and the Great Lakes. Anyways, I spent some time out west after Cuba, ridin' horses and bulls for money. I met a feller down in Chihuahua whose granddaddy knew Pancho Villa, of course, you don't know who that is. I met my wife out in California, she was smokin' hot," As Thatcher said this, the sound of a helicopter began rising in the distance.  Soon the source appeared, roaring over them and casting a shadow on the hunting party.  

The chopper was massive, with a long fuselage with a low belly supported by a giant six-blade wide top-mounted rotor.  The beast touched the ground like a gentle kiss and the dual cargo bay doors on the face of the chopper opened up, letting several men out.  The men quickly placed the lion on a tarp and pulled him into the chopper before closing the bay and leaving.  Sunset and the others soon left for the plane and returned to base.