Chapter Forty: Breakthrough.

***

Somewhere beneath Scotland. May 3rd 2030.

Twilight Sparkle and Rupert Giles were waiting for the pony they hoped would be able to help with the research into the portal.

The pony who was being escorted in by two armoured, stern looking Night Guards could not have looked further from the cheerful Guardspony Twilight had initially met all those weeks ago. Well Spring was underfed, his ribs almost visible underneath the white hospital robe he had been made to wear and he walked with an obvious limp, stumbling every other step. Occasionally the Night Guard escorting him were forced to shove him just to keep him moving in the same direction. Twilight wondered whether he had deliberately starved himself or if they just hadn’t been treating him well.

“The reports say he hasn’t been eating,” Giles said quietly from next to her, answering her unspoken question. “Won’t do anything. They’ve had to resort to force feeding and intravenous nutrition to keep him strong enough to walk.”

Twilight didn’t respond, lost in analysing the damaged Converted. His eyes, while not as wide, wild and staring as they had been when Elliot had first released him from the Converted programming, were bloodshot, as though he hadn’t slept in all the time since she had seen him taken away to be helped. He was twitchy, looking in different directions every other blink as though permanently terrified. He had a few scars, and there was a magic inhibitor on his horn, implying that he had tried using his magic to harm either somepony or someone else or - more likely, given the oddly wonky nature of some of the scars - himself.

“Self harm?” she asked. Giles nodded, and Twilight shuddered, horrified at this poor pony’s… this poor person’s fate.

He didn’t look anypony in the eye as he was escorted into Twilight’s working area, instead keeping his eyes firmly pointed at the ground. In a contrast to his mumbling when Twilight had last seen him, he was utterly silent, though his mouth opened and closed periodically as though he were considering saying… something.

Once he was sat down, Twilight turned to the Night Guards. “Thank you both, that’ll be fine.”

“Our orders are to keep an eye on the prisoner, ma’am,” one of them replied sternly.

“I think I can handle him,” Twilight replied with a slight smile. The two guards exchanged glances, and then the one who had spoken shrugged.

“Whatever you say, ma’am,” he said, sounding unconcerned. “If he goes psycho, that;s your problem.”

Twilight’s smile turned frosty as the two guards left. Once they had gone, Giles summed up her feelings succinctly.

“Arseholes,” he said quietly, the word sounding odd from his mouth. Twilight nodded, before looking Well Spring over again. She sighed, looking up at Giles with a resigned expression.

“I think I need to do this alone,” she said quietly. He glanced down at her.

“If you’re sure,” he said, sounding not altogether sure of this idea.

“I am,” she confirmed, smiling reassuringly

“Alright then,” Giles said quietly. He took his glasses off and cleaned them. "I’ll be right outside should you need anything from me.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly. She watched as he walked out, before turning her attention to Well Spring. The pony hadn’t reacted to any of the conversations going on around him.

“Hello again,” she said softly, smiling warmly at him. “Do you remember me?”

He didn’t even look up at her. Her smile soured slightly. She had figured this would be difficult.

“Well Spring? Platoon Sergeant?” she tried.

He looked up at her, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times before he looked down again.

“Sergeant!” she snapped in as authoritarian a tone as she could manage. That did the trick: he looked straight at her immediately, his eyes wider and full of concentration.

“I… yes, sir?” he asked, sounding confused.

“I need your help, Sergeant,” she said, retaining the authoritarian tone.

“I…” he replied, eyes narrowing slightly. “I don’t… I won’t…”

He looked back down again for a moment.

“Sergeant Well Spring!” Twilight snapped, trying to keep his attention.

“THAT IS NOT MY NAME!” he suddenly yelled, catching Twilight off balance. She stepped back from him, eyes widening at the sudden rage he displayed. Foam flecked from his mouth and his eyes burned with some inner fire. And then, as suddenly as it had come on, that fire was gone, leaving nothing but the broken form of the Converted sitting before her again, eyes gazing off somewhere into the distance, not really seeing anything.

“I…” she said quietly, and then she gulped, aware that she had to be extra careful. “Alright. What is your name?”

The response was immediate. Well Spring jumped to a mockery of attention, back ramrod straight. “Wallace Springfield, Private, Serial Number…” He tailed off, frowning in uncertainty, his body slackening slightly. “Serial Number…" Now he became more frustrated. "Serial number... oh God…” He began hyperventilating, his eyes widening in horror. “I don’t remember. I don’t remember…!”

“It’s alright, Private!” Twilight yelled, trying to keep his attention on her. “I don’t need your Serial Number, I need your help…”

“No!” he suddenly yelled, his eyes narrowing into a glare of hatred. He stood up, taking an aggressive stance, and Twilight stepped back, worried she might have pushed him too far. “You’re a fucking pony! I will not help Equestria, I won’t I won’t I…!”

“I’m with the Resistance!” Twilight yelled quickly. “I’m with the Resistance!”

Well Spring’s… Private Springfield’s expression softened into one of mild confusion. “You’re… but you’re Twilight Sparkle,” he said quietly.

“The resemblance is… deceptive,” Twilight said softly, aware of the irony. “But I promise you, I’m with the Resistance. I need your help to find a way to invade Equestria, bring an end to the war.”

“I…” Springfield began, his eyes unfocusing. “I don’t know if I can… I don’t know what help I can be.”

“You can help me,” Twilight said quietly. “You knew the spell to create a portal.”

“I… I remember,” Springfield said, frowning at her. “I remember I told you…”

“The spell doesn’t just work with the words,” Twilight said quietly. “There’s something else to it.”

“There… there is?” Springfield said, looking even more confused. “I… yes, I think I remember that, but… I don’t… I think…”

He lapsed into a silence. Twilight left him alone to it for the moment, recognising that it was difficult. After a moment, he fixed her with a gaze that was almost heartbreaking for it’s sincerity.

“They won’t ever forgive me,” he said quietly, his tone one of utter anguish.

“Who won’t?” she asked quietly, trying to be sensitive.

“Anyone,” he replied, getting more agitated. “God won’t. No one will. The things I’ve done… the blood on my… on my hooves.” he spat the last word, contempt in his tone, but tears had started forming in his eyes. “No one can ever forgive the things I’ve done. I know I can’t.”

There was a long pause as Twilight considered this. She didn’t know quite how she could reassure the poor human: he had gone through so much, lost so much, and who knew what he had been made to do as a Sergeant of the Royal Guard?

“Wallace,” she said softly. “I don’t know how you can forgive yourself. But if you help me…” She swallowed. “If you help me, I’ll forgive you.”

“You… you will?” he asked, his eyes wide and filled with such hope that Twilight’s heart broke.

“I will, Wallace,” she said quietly. “I’ll forgive you. You’ll have helped save the human race, helped win the war.”

Springfield seemed to consider that for a long moment. His eyes were filled with uncertainty, but then, slowly, his expression became resolute, then determined.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll do what I can.”

***

HMS Illustrious, Plymouth Port. May 3rd. 2030.

When the Illustrious landed at port, it arrived to an empty battleground. The entire dock was covered in dead ponies and dead humans, destroyed chariots and golems mixed with damaged and destroyed human vehicles. It was obvious that a brutal, bloody battle had taken place here.

On the Illustrious’ bridge, Elliot surveyed the battleground with a frown. Next to him, Hell Blazer was also analysing the battleground. The Doctor was still at the wheel, while Ditzy was stood next to him, alternating between looking at him and the main window. the old Earth Pony was studiously ignoring her gaze.

“No sign of who won,” Hell Blazer said quietly, a frown on his face. “We’ve heard nothing from Redmond’s forces.”

“True enough,” Elliot said, sounding concerned himself. “Dream Flyer, try again.”

Dream Flyer, now sat at the communication station, sighed as she once again clumsily tried inputting commands into the design-for-thumbs console. This was the third time they had tried contacting Redmond’s forces. So far, no luck.

“This is HMS Illustrious under the command of Albion One, calling any Resistance or Defence Force units in the area,” she said quietly. “Repeat, this is Illustrious calling any Resistance or Defence Force units. Respond please.”

A moment later, she turned to Elliot with a shrug. Still nothing.

“Mutual annihilation?” Hell Blazer suggested.

“Not likely,” Dream Flyer interjected. “That doesn’t happen.”

“Perhaps this is an ambush being set up by Equestrian forces?” the Doctor suggested from the wheel, still ignoring Ditzy’s searching gaze.

“Possibly,” Elliot said quietly. “In any case, we’ll need everyone on station. Get the Interdiction on the horn, we’ll need Grey covering us. Hell Blazer, go get Everfree squad and tell them to get themselves ready.”

The yellow Earth Pony nodded once, leaving the bridge quickly. A moment later, the radio burst into life.

“Attention Illustrious,” came the voice of Danny, sounding tired but cheerful. “This is forward HQ at Plymouth base. We’ve cleared the port for your arrival.”

Elliot went over to the radio, a grin on his face.

“Good to hear, Danny,” he said. “Where’s Redmond? He didn’t bite it did he?”

“No sir,” Danny replied with a snort. “Major Redmond is overseeing cleanup - we lost a lot of good people, and this port’s a shit-tip.”

“Can believe that,” Elliot said happily. “We’ll see you when we get there.”

“Sir,” Danny’s voice said. Elliot sighed in relief. At the wheel, the Doctor gave a tired smile, though he studiously avoided Ditzy’s gaze still.

“Well,” Elliot said quietly. “That’s something at least.”

***

HMS Illustrious Engine Room.

Three times, Equestrian Guard and Militia ponies had tried to take the engine room from Applejack and the rest of Everfree squad. Three times, she and her team had smashed the buckers apart, spells burning bodies, hooves crushing skulls and breaking ribs and spines. Three times, she had rallied her battered friends to hold the enemy back, drive them off.

Nopony in the group had escaped unscathed from the fighting - Lyra had cuts along her flank that were achingly similar to the scars of her alternative self. Applejack had bruises above one eye and a cut lip. Pinkie was nursing a few cuts to the side too, as well as a sprained ankle, while True Grit had a small scorch mark on his cheek. Nonetheless, none of them let up, for they were all that was standing between the Equestrian forces and their objective.

It had been half an hour since the last attack had been repelled. It was pretty clear that they had broken the back of the remaining enemy forces, but Applejack wasn’t entirely convinced, and so they remained on alert.

“I wonder if Desert Wind is ok,” Lyra asked quietly. Nopony answered her, not that she had expected them to. She sighed: Sapphire Steel’s death was a blow. The grey mare had been quiet, rarely talking about her experiences prior to joining up, and yet she had been kind.

“Heads up,” she heard Applejack say quietly. “I hear movement.”

At once, the entire group tensed. A moment later, a slow trotting could be heard, sounding uneven, as though the pony doing the trotting was limping slightly. A moment later, the tan form of Desert Wind appeared. The pony was covered in blood; he had numerous injuries dotted all over him, and he seemed utterly exhausted. Despite that, however he had a vicious, triumphant grin on: whatever he had been doing had brought him some measure of, if not happiness, than certainly a kind of vicious cheer.

“Hello everypony,” he said quietly, his smile widening. “How are things?”

With that, he fainted. At once, True Grit ran over to him, his horn glowing as he began a basic field examination.

“He’s got a dozen minor injuries and his leg’s sprained,” he said a moment later, his voice quiet and tinged with a mixture of amazement and concern. “I don’t know what the buck he’s been doing, but I’d wager most of this blood isn’t his.”

Applejack whistled softly. “Lucky bucker.”

“Might explain why we’ve not had so many Guard come this way,” Lyra said quietly. “Though I can’t believe he wasn’t killed.”

“He was angry,” Pinkie said softly from the back of the group.

More trotting could suddenly be heard, and Applejack moved quickly to block the door, Lyra and Pinkie backing her up - but then she saw the trenchcoated form of Hell Blazer.

“Hello,” he said, eyes wide at the scene. “Somepony wanna fill me in on what I missed?”

***

Somewhere beneath Scotland.

In the room where Twilight had spent the last month and a half trying to figure out exactly how to make the portal spell Well Spring - Springfield, she reminded herself again - had taught her work, she was now stood with him by her side, a look of concentration on his face.

“The trick,” he was saying, speaking slowly and hesitantly, “is intention.”

“I figured that much,” Twilight said. “That’s one of the reasons I changed the incantation to ‘Portus Maxima Liberatus.”

“You don’t understand,” Springfield said quietly, looking at her with concentration in his face, as though he were fighting to keep himself coherent. “It isn’t just your concentration. You never cast this spell alone. You have to want this, but everyp -” He stopped, his mouth spasming slightly. He closed his eyes, took in a deep, calming breath, and opened them again. “Everyone with you has to have the same intent, the same goal. The more po… the more people you have… the more powerful the portal you can make.”

Twilight frowned at that. “I’ve never heard of magic like that.”

“No,” Springfield said quietly. “As far as I know… and I don’t know much, they never tell you much if you don’t need to, especially a convie… this spell was invented by Commander…” He paused, frowning suddenly. “How…?” he asked, his eyes narrowing at her.

“How what?” she asked.

“How can you not know this?” he asked suddenly, sounding more suspicious now. “You invented this!”

Twilight sighed. “That would… take a long time to explain, Well… Wallace.”

“Try me,” he said, sounding hostile now.

Twilight sighed, trying to think of a good way to frame this. “You know that Equestria and Equus are another world.”

“Yeah,” Springfield said with a confused frown.

“Well,” Twilight said, taking a deep breath before beginning, “I come from another Equestria. A different one. Elliot - sorry, you’d know him better as Albion - ended up there by accident when trying to get to Solamina to kill her.”

“And he… what? Brought you back?” Springfield said, his frown deepening.

“He thought we could help,” Twilight said with a shrug. “And now here I am, trying to help.”

“Or leading the Resistance into a trap,” Springfield countered hotly. “I know Commander Sparkle - she taught me that spell. She taught us all. She’s damn clever when she wants to be. For all I know, this is a massive trap!”

“It isn’t,” Twilight replied, snapping slightly. “I promise you.”

“And why should I trust you?” Springfield hissed.

Twilight frowned at him, her expression cooling by degrees. When she spoke, it was clear, cold and to the point.

“Because I’m going to help kill Solamina for everything she’s done - to this planet, to the human race, to free ponies and to you.” She paused and took a deep breath. “I promise you. That bitch is going to die.”

She said this with such naked anger and aggression that Springfield rook a step back, his hostile expression melting into one that seemed almost… intimidated. He blinked once, then again, before gulping.

“I see,” he said quietly. Then, to her surprise, a slow grin spread on his face. “What are we waiting for then?!”

He stepped up, closing his eyes. “What did you say the new incantation was?”

“Portus Maxima Liberatus,” Twilight said.

“Ok,” Springfield said with a grin. His horn glowed. “Portus Maxima Liberatus.”

A small glowing portal appeared - again, it was small and shaky, probably not big enough for even one pony.

“I need you to think about Equestria!” Springfield said, sounding strained. “Where you want to be!”

“Ponyville!” Twilight said softly, almost to herself. “I want to be in Ponyville.”

“Then concentrate on that!” Springfield said, sounding even more strained. “Concentrate on Ponyville!”

Twilight closed her eyes. She thought long and hard, her eyes screwed tightly shut, and suddenly the light from the portal increased exponentially, the glowing portal expanding…

And suddenly, the portal was in front of them. It had expanded to touch the walls and ceiling, and the glow had transmuted into what looked almost like a window without glass. And on the other side…

“That’s Ponyville?” Springfield asked, his eyes wide with shock. Twilight couldn’t speak, her eyes also wide, tears forming at the edges. It was Ponyville alright.

Her Ponyville.

She could see the beautiful skies, the sun shining in the sky without a care in the world. She could see Carrot Top and Cheerilee in the distance, Sweet Apple Acres even further. She could see her library, and for a moment she wondered if Spike was there, having a nap in her absence...

A moment later, the portal disappeared, receding almost in the blink of an eye into nothingness.

“I’ve seen Ponyville,” Springfiled said quietly, a frown on his face as he turned to face her, “and that wasn’t it.”

“It…” Twilight said quietly, tears still glistening in her eyes. She swallowed back a sob. “It was once. Before the war.”

Springfield nodded, saying nothing. He sighed. “That’s it then,” he said quietly. “You know now. It’s intention. The intention of everyone you send. You have to want it, all of you.”

“How can it work for the Guard and the Militia?” Twilight asked, not quite understanding. “You must really want to…”

“We want what She wants,” Springfield said at once, his voice filled with bitterness as he began speaking faster and faster. “We always did. Jump, how high. Run, how far and how fast. Kill - how many. It was our life. All of us. The Converted… we do as we’re told, ma’am.”

Twilight frowned at him - there were tears forming in his eyes now, and he was shaking - he had recovered some of his former personality, and had calmed down even more since coming here… but she could tell he was still damaged, maybe irrevocably.

“I will never be forgiven,” he said quietly. “Will I?”

“I told you, I’d forgive you,” Twilight reminded him.

“I didn’t wrong you, ma’am,” Springfield said quietly. “Not like I wronged my own kind, my family, my country, my species… everything. I’m a traitor. A coward. There’s no place for a man… for a pony... like me. There’s nothing left.”

“Not quite nothing, brother,” a new voice spoke. Springfield looked up in surprise, and Twilight turned, to find Rupert Giles and a tall, extremely pale man in a black trenchcoat standing in the doorway, both looking morose.

“Giles?” Twilight asked, throwing a questioning glance in the direction of the new man.

“This… gentleman has been eager to speak with Mr Well Spring here,” Giles replied, sounding none too happy. “Apparently he has the Council’s blessing. How has it gone?”

“We’ve figured it out,” Twilight said quietly. She smiled, suddenly realising what she had said. “Giles, we’ve figured it out!”

Giles grinned. “Excellent. Come on, Twilight - we’ll need to inform Elliot at once.”

Twilight moved to go, Springfield moving to follow her - but the man held up a hand.

“I’d like to speak with Mr Spring here,” he said quietly.

“Springfield,” Springfield said, sounding angry. “My name is Wallace Springfield.”

“Springfield, then,” the man said. “If it is not too much trouble, I would like a moment of your time.”

Springfield looked at Twilight, who shrugged. She didn’t know who this man was, but if he wanted Wallace’s attention it was his business. Springfield looked at her for a moment, then turned his attention to the man.

“Alright,” he said.

“Good luck, Wallace,” Twilight said with a small smile. A moment later, she and Giles had left, leaving the man alone with Springfield.

***

Neverforgivenneverforgivenneverforgiven…

Springfield sighed, trying to push the voices out of his head. Even though he had managed to drive the voices back enough to be able to help Sparkle, he couldn't help but feel it in the back of his mind, the eternal feeling of never being forgiven for his crimes not as long as he lived there was no way...

He shook his head slightly. The man had moved to a chair and sat down.

“What do you want?” the Converted asked him, trying not to sound bitter.

“You’re a Converted,” the man replied quietly. “A soldier. Correct?”

“I was,” Springfield replied with a frown. “I don’t know what I am now.”

“My understanding is that the process of being freed was… traumatic for you,” the man continued, sounding like he was trying to be delicate.

Springfield laughed. “The only reason I’m not still a gibbering mess is because Sparkle pulled enough shit out of her arse to keep me together.” He paused. “Now… now I don’t…”

“Don’t what?” the man pressed.

“I don’t know what I want,” the Converted replied quietly, not looking at the man. “No… no, I do know." He looked the man straight in the eye. "I want to die."

"Really," the man said blandly, raising an eyebrow.

"Do you have any idea what it's like to wake up from the worst dream of your life?" Springfield asked, turning away from the man. "In this dream, you're not in control. Your body's not your own. You've done things... horrible things. Murdered people, or worse, you've inflicted the same... change on them that you've had done to you. And you've done it all with a smile." He paused again. "Then you wake up and it's all true. The things you've done... the things you've done..." He shook his head again, trying to keep calm. He failed. "There's no forgiveness, no nothing, just the knowledge that they'll never forgive you...!"

He slammed his hooves into the ground angrily. A moment later, he took a steadying breath, calming himself.

"I would rather be dead than live like this," he said quietly, looking the man in the eyes. "I would rather be dead than have to live with this... this..."

There was a long, awkward silence between the two for a moment.

"What if I told you," the man said quietly, "that you were already dead?"

Springfield frowned at him. "What?"

"We all die," the man continued slowly. "Some of us are lucky that death comes simultaneously for body and soul - they depart the world together. Some of us though... some of us leave our bodies a long time before our bodies choose to die. Our bodies linger on without our souls, destined to wander. We are already dead." He smiled softly. "But our bodies may still prove useful."

Springfield found himself enraptured: it was as though this man had explained in an instant exactly how he felt. He was dead. He had felt it ever since Albion had awakened him, a sense that something was missing from him, a great expanse of himself torn out and replaced first with the programming and then with nothing at all.

"How can we...?" he asked slowly. "How can we be useful? What do we do?"

"There are those of us who have dedicated our bodies to the cause of defending the land of Albion," the man replied slowly. "Until our bodies awaken to the reality of their own deaths, we will put them to use."

The man took a small leaflet out from his trenchcoat and slid it over to the Converted pony. Springfield grabbed it immediately, and looked at the cover with wide eyes. The symbol was that of a stylised skull upon an image of the Earth. Below this was an image of a marching group of human and pony soldiers in dark, body-covering outfits, and below this was a message printed in stark white letters.

EVEN IN DEATH WE STILL SERVE.

Springfield looked up, and a small, almost hopeful smile lit up his face.

"Where do I sign up?" he asked.

***

Outside Plymouth. May 3rd. 2030.

Outside the city of Plymouth, in the dead of night, somewhere near the forward base that had been established outside the port city, there was a gathering. Though it was night, there were a half dozen small lights on, enough that this gathering could be seen. Something like six hundred and fifty human and pony soldiers stood in rows, all of them standing perfectly at attention. At the head of this group was a single man standing on a box. He was dark skinned and stern looking, and his eyes scanned the entire crowd of soldiers keenly.

"Brothers and sisters," he said, his voice commanding and tinged with a Texan accent, "we stand here today to honour the dead."

Alexander Redmond was not normally the sort of man to perform these kinds of services. It was not his business. However, the loss of over six hundred people, combined with the deaths of many of his own forces, had made him adamant that he would be the one to perform this task. He wore his military uniform, as cleaned up as it could be made, but he also wore a single small pendant. It was the image of the planet Earth, signifying Redmond as a member of the New Gaian Cult, an Earth-worshipping cult that had sprung up around the time the Barrier had been stopped. it was rare he wore it - rare he allowed his religious views to be so open - but this was a special moment.

Behind him were something like eight or nine hundred bodies, lined in rows, each with another soldier standing by them solemnly at attention like the others. Some of the bodies were naked Converted, unidentifiable now but honoured all the same despite their fate. Some of them were the bodies found in rooms throughout the Illustrious, laid out with as much dignity as could be managed given the damage done to them. All of them had been laid out on a small, flat pile of flammable material.

One body was a grey Unicorn mare, her eyes glassy and wide, staring at something nopony and nobody else could see, a scorch mark across her throat and chest that had burned all the way down to her ribs, exposing white bone to the world. By her side stood the stoic form of Desert Wind, his eyes stony and cold as he waited for the signal.

David Elliot stood next to Redmond. He kept his head down, lost in his own thoughts as the Major spoke. There were some, he supposed, who would have wanted him to speak at a time like this - truth be told, however, he was starting to feel very inadequate for speeches like this. He wasn't all that people expected from him, no matter what they said.

“These warriors have given their lives for the cause,” Redmond continued, “they have made the ultimate sacrifice so that we may live, that humankind and free ponies may live. For them, the long fight is done. Therefore it is with proud honour and solemn dignity that we commit the bodies of our fallen brothers and sisters to the fire. They will become part of the air we breathe, that we have been allowed to continue breathing thanks to them. They will become part of the Earth that they have fought for so long to protect. In this way, though they have left us, they never will. Though they are gone, they will never die. Cremation party!”

At these last bellowed words, the ponies and humans standing by the laid out bodies each picked up a match or other tool for making fire that had been laid by the bodies. Unicorns lit their horns, a few dozen soft, colourful glows intermingled with the rows of flickering flames.

“Light up!” Redmond yelled.

As one, the ponies and humans lit their matches, lighters, tinder boxes and horns. Hundreds of small lights suddenly lit the night’s sky. It was a beautiful, bittersweet sight.

“Ignite!” Redmond barked.

As one, the cremation party lit their former comrades on fire. There were only a couple of hesitations, ponies and humans who had known the individual they were lighting on fire and would take a moment to remember them.

Desert Wind did not hesitate. He lit Sapphire’s body up immediately. His stony eyes glinted slightly, wet with unshed tears, the only sign that he was feeling any emotion at all. His grieving would be done in silence, and it would be done far from the eyes of other ponies. Right now, Sapphire required one duty of him, and he would have been damned to Tartarus before he failed her again.

Redmond stood at attention for a moment as the fires burned. With their charges lit, the cremation party, too, stood at attention. Then Redmond turned to Elliot.

“Commander Albion,” he said quietly. “I would like you to speak to them.”

Elliot glanced up at the Texan Major with a frown. “Why?” he asked.

“Elliot, I don’t believe in this Avatar nonsense,” Redmond said harshly. His face softened as he spoke his next words. “But most of them do. Most of them could do with you telling them that it’s all going to be alright.”

“And what if I can’t say that?” Elliot asked quietly.

“You can,” Redmond replied, a slight smile gracing his stern features. “You’ve made them believe before. And I may not believe in the Avatar... but I believe that you do. And Avatar or not.

Redmond moved off, leaving Elliot alone. Elliot closed his eyes, thinking back to all the times he had spoken in front of these people, of people like them. All the times he had stood and tried to rally the troops for one last battle.

Now, somehow, he felt like he couldn’t do it. In the face of all these deaths, of the stoic stares of an army, he felt like he couldn’t ever live up to what they wanted from him.

Maybe you don’t have to, a voice in his head suggested. Maybe all you have to do is live up to yourself and let the rest sort itself out.

He didn’t know where the voice had come from - it sounded almost like Merlin, but Elliot was sure the old wizard had better things to do with his time. Nonetheless, it gave him heart. He sucked in a deep breath and stepped up to the centre of the podium, looking out at everyone there gathered.

“My friends,” he began softly. “This war has stolen much from all of us. Homes. Families. Friends. It’s scarred us all to the bone, and many of us may never recover. No matter what happens in this war, it has marked us all irrevocably.”

Everyone in the audience, pony and human alike, shared glances. Each of them was lost in their own private thoughts.

“But,” Elliot continued, “this is no reason to lose hope.” His gaze swept everyone in the audience. "Every human soldier who has fought in this war is a testament to the whole species," he said, his eyes finding various human soldiers. "It would be easy for us in these dark times to just give up. To surrender to the inevitable and say 'we're done'. Those who don't - all of them - are some of the bravest people in the world. To fight on, even though we have all but no hope of victory... that is true courage."

The humans among those watching felt a little better at that. Some of them straightened up even taller, feeling a strange, bittersweet pride at Elliot’s words.

The Avatar’s eyes now searched for the pony soldiers among the ranks. "Every pony soldier who has fought in this war is a testament to their whole species," he said, finding Everfree squad and Grey Squadron, locking eyes briefly with Pinkie Pie, Errant Flight and others, before continuing his sweep. "They are living proof to those who would have said otherwise that Ponykind is, at it's core, good. They are in some respects braver than us: while we are fighting to protect our homes, they are fighting against theirs, and they do it gladly for a people that are not their own. That, too, is true courage."

Applejack, in the front row, turned her head slightly to glance at Rarity. Her friend returned the glance with a slight smile. Next to her, Pinkie Pie looked so solemn that anypony who knew her would have sworn she wasn’t the same pony. Behind them, Grey Squadron looked grim and stoic, save for Rainbow Dash, who looked more morose, a fresh bandage on her recently healed wound, and Fluttershy, who looked like she had been crying.

“Together," Elliot continued, "these two kinds of soldier are a testament to the whole.” His eyes swept the entire crowd. “They serve, in life and in death, as a beacon of hope for our future. They prove to us that one day, when this war ends, there is a future where we two, human and pony, can work together in peace to rebuild what was lost in war."

Everyone in the audience, pony and human alike, stood a little straighter, feeling a renewed sense of purpose and commitment at that. Elliot smiled, and raised his hand. The sword Excalibur appeared in his grip, pointed to the heavens. “I promise you, my friends, we will win this war. Our friends’ sacrifices will not be in vain!”

As one, everyone and everypony in the audience cheered, applauding and stomping their hooves wildly. Elliot smiled softly. He might not have felt like the man to give them hope, but he had.

Self-belief, came the voice, unbidden again. It is the first and most important matter. All other things come secondary. If you do not believe in yourself, no one else can.

Elliot smiled wider. He promised to himself that he’d remember.

***

“Commander Albion!” a voice called as Elliot made his way through the crowd after the ceremony. “Commander Albion!”

Elliot found himself facing Danny, who looked excited. The red headed technician had apparently run all the way from the command centre to here, and was panting heavily from exertion.

“What is it?” Elliot asked him, wondering what had excited him.

“We’ve just had a message from Sparkle in Scotland,” Danny replied breathlessly. “She’s done it!”

Elliot’s eyes widened in shock. “You’re sure?”

“It’s confirmed!” Danny said. “She’s on her way back down to demonstrate the portal to you now, expected time of arrival within the next six hours!”

Elliot unconsciously clenched his fist, a sudden mix of fear and relief gripping him. This was it. Now… now they could finally bring the battle to Solamina.

They had entered the last days.

***

Author's Notes:

Boom! It's time to enter the final phase, ladies and gents! My thanks once again to my commenters and favouriters, and a special thank you to the ever wonderful RoyalPsycho (Isaac) and The Void (Matt) for their help and suggestions. :-)