Chapter ONE

More than anything else -- more than the dying and the pain that was sure to accompany the dying -- she was afraid of the goodbye. The goodbye's the scary thing, not the dying. The dying is just part of it. "Comes with the territory," as they say. There's nothing you can do about the dying other than accept it. That's where the goodbye fits in. The goodbye is the acceptance. It's the acknowledgement, verbal or otherwise, that the whole terrible mess is finally being cleaned up.

But she had to face the goodbye. She had to be ready for it when it came, because the only thing she feared more than the goodbye was the prospect of missing it.

She was afraid, but she was a leader. Lieutenant First Class Twilight Sparkle, the youngest in Equestrian history to ever earn the rank and arguably one of one the greatest military tacticians to ever serve under the banner of the proud Militiamares. Her troop looked to her for its resolve, and she could not risk dampening that resolve with dripping sentiment. On the battlefield sentiment and doubt were difficult to tell apart -- both bore a strong resemblance to weakness. So when duty called she swallowed that fear, choked it down with all the others and steeled herself in the face of the coming madness.

The forest seemed to do the same. It was a quiet midday, an anxious sort of quiet that was felt by every soldier in camp. Quiet and still, as if the forest were holding its breath in anticipation. Twilight stepped out of her makeshift shelter in need of some fresh air and room to think, maybe somepony to talk to. She wandered about camp, sticking her head in a few tents to check in with the soldiers under her command, their restlessness seeming to match her own twice over. Most were huddled together outside of their tents playing cards or talking strategy as they picked uninterestedly at chalky chocolate rations. Almost none of them were dressed in their coveralls and the ones who were in uniform weren't dressed properly, but Twilight elected not to bother them over it because neither was she. The top half of her fatigues hung lazily about the middle of her torso, leaving her upper body exposed. Wearing them as they were meant to be worn was unthinkable in the humid woods, and waiting around had already made Twilight plenty uncomfortable. What did bother her was the number of bare hind hooves she saw as she made her rounds. Slacking on coveralls was one thing, but combat boots were to be worn on the hind hooves of all acting soldiers at all times. Acting, in Twilight's humble opinion, meaning awake.

Twilight found Applejack and a few other ponies leaning against their rifles, exchanging war stories. Though it was less an exchange and more a lecture, delivered enthusiastically by Applejack while the others listened -- some hanging on every word, others not amused in the slightest.

"Why ah dropped six of ‘em! One right after the other, yes ah did!" she exclaimed, standing upright on her hind legs as she stared down the imaginary iron sights of an imaginary sub machine gun, aimed at an imaginary enemy. She looked more like a child playing cops and robbers than a trained soldier. "We was so close ah got bits of ‘em stuck on ma' fatigues. Blood an' guts an' brains -- why dat was the scariest damn gunfight ah ever did see since ah been in this Celestia-forsaken forest."

"Were you scared?" asked one of the greener recruits. Twilight could tell by the childish glint in her eyes that the poor little filly was eating up every bit of AJ's mostly true story. She'd been spending a lot of time with Dash since her unit transfer, and Twilight wondered if maybe some of the pegasus pony's bravado had rubbed off on her. AJ was normally earnest to a tee.

"Was ah scared? Does Celestia make the sun shine?" she replied, milking the bit for all it was worth. "Why, as sure as a new born filly's flank is blank ah was scared. That scrape rustled ma' jimmy's something serious. But ah never let on none. Y'all can't never let on none that ur scared. That's how ya' get done in." Applejack ended the thought with a wink and an encouraging nudge. The green filly looked away, embarrassed.

"I know all about that," another pony chimed in. He was big, twice Applejack's size, with a deep black mane and a scar that ran along the right of his torso from cutie mark to shoulder. "Happened to a friend of mine. We were ambushed. Poor dumb colt froze up stiff as board. Got split in half by an enemy gunner," his voice was a low, animal-like purr and the beginning of a smile had started taking shape on his thin lips. “Pissed himself, if I remember. Awful sorry way to end your first tour.” He seemed oddly found of the bitter memory.

"Well sheeuuut! Same thing nearly happened ta ma' commanding officer. She'd a got her head blown clean off her shoulders if ah hadn't come a running to her rescue like ah did."

"Is that true?" asked the little green filly, "did you really rescue a senior officer?" Applejack threw a foreleg around the filly’s neck and began illustrating the scene in vivid detail, her story sharpened by practiced exaggeration. She was a storyteller born. No, not born, made. The forest and the many trials of war had taught her how to do more than fight and survive: it had taught her how to lie.

She had fought with mortal enemies; fought them and crushed their brittle bones beneath her hooves, and stained her uniform with their blood and sweat, and inhaled their dying breaths, breathed them in, tasted them and consumed them, adding their lost vitality to her own and making herself stronger, more dangerous.

Mortals she had learned to deal with easy enough. You could touch mortals, and if you could touch a thing then you could buck it; and if you bucked it hard enough then you could break it. It was the enemy you couldn’t touch that troubled Applejack the most. The one that hid in a ponies head, in the memories of old battles and dead friends that kept a pony up at night, kept her twisting and turning with a cold, living restlessness. This enemy, Applejack had come to know well. Her name was reality. Her name was truth. And truth, Applejack had come to learn, had an even greater enemy named lie.

But Applejack couldn’t lie. Not really. All her life ponies thought of her as being honest, and that was partially true. The whole truth was that Applejack was a lousy liar. The best she could ever manage was a little embellishment. She’d learned to tell stories, and she’d come to understand that the best storytellers used lies to tell the truth. Applejack never stopped telling the truth, she just stopped telling the whole truth. It helped her cope. The other ponies laughed at her boisterous antics, and they cringed as she painted dramatic portraits of violent doom, and they cheered when she recalled feats of dynamic, selfless heroism; and for a short time at least, while she and her audience were busy laughing and cringing and cheering none of them were thinking about the forest or the war; about the families and friends they’d left back home, or about the first enemy soldier they had ever killed, or the sister, brother, or lover who marched away from camp early one spring morning or late one summer night and never marched back.  

Twilight listened to Applejack’s mostly true story, indulging her at a distance while pushing down the surge of annoyance foaming up inside of her and threatening to spill out as angry, disciplinary words. Distance and suppression. Unlikely allies to be sure, but the odd couple had proven to be most useful when leading ponies, marching them off to their untimely ends. She listened a good while and what she heard sparked emotions, and the emotions upset and confused her. She wasn’t sure what it was she was supposed to be feeling. And then she decided to stop feeling and start acting.

"Did you, now?” said Twilight, trotting up to Applejack and her small congregation of listeners. “I think I'd like to hear all about how you came 'a running ta ma' rescue, like you did.'" Hearing the familiar voice, AJ spun around to find her dear friend and commanding officer standing at her back, not looking terribly amused. The other ponies stood at attention, hurriedly, but not the blond farm girl. She stood up straight with her hind legs crossed, leaning one elbow against the butt of her rifle for balance.

"Lying about how you rescued your commanding officer while she was paralyzed with fear, huh? Very unoriginal. You steal that one from Rainbow Dash?" AJ shrugged.

"Now don't y'all go comparing me ta' Rainbow,” Applejack laughed. The others standing at attention where shocked and wildly impressed by Applejack’s ability to stare down her superior officer and not so much as flinch. “That pony shovels shit by the wheelbarrow. Plus she lacks ma' natural down-home charm when it comes ta' proper yarn spinning." Without thinking Twilight smiled a gentle smile, a mistake she corrected immediately. It was one thing as commanding officer to show that you were at ease with your ponies, and that they were in turn at ease with you. It was something else entirely for them to be literally at ease without her first giving the command. Such behavior was disrespectful on both of their parts: AJ in regards to her superior officer, Twilight to the rules and regulations that governed the proud Militiamares.

"At attention private," ordered Twilight.

"Shucks Twi, ain't we past all dem formalities by now?" Twilight bore into her subordinate with a look that suggested they were definitely not past any such formalities, nor would they be in any foreseeable future. Reluctantly, AJ fell in line with the other ponies: standing on all fours, forelegs shoulder length apart, back straight, hind legs parallel to fore, head held high. She looked the perfect solider when she when she wanted to. Years of working her family farm had blessed her with a physique that put most adult stallions to shame. Physically she was easily one of the most capable ponies amongst the ranks of the Militiamares, second only to her big brother Macintosh. Her attitude as of late, however, left much to be desired.

"This is a war zone private, why aren't your boots on your hooves?" Assuming the question was rhetorical, Applejack remained silent. "I'm talking to you, private." Twilight assured her that it wasn't.

"All due respect Twi --"

"Sir."

"All due respect, sir, y’all are gonna have ta' reprimand just about everypony in camp for that bullshit, not just this one. It ain't but a little rule bending is all. No harm no foul." Twilight placed a hoof under her chin in thought, as if actually considering the legitimacy Applejack's excuse.

"At ease soldiers." AJ's posture immediately loosened, like she'd just exhaled after holding her breath for a long time. "Not you private." Complaining, Applejack resumed her attentive stance.

"You others are dismissed. I need to have a word with Applejack in private." The others disbanded without question.

"Look, I know the whole superior, subordinate relationship feels a bit awkward. We're friends…close friends, I get it. But I cannot have you undermining my authority in front of the other MM."

Twilight and Applejack first met back in basic training. They'd been assigned to the same boot camp and studied the art of war under the tutelage of war veteran Pony Joe, a stallion who was deeply loathed by every cadet who managed to survive his training regimen. United by a common enemy, the two of them became fast friends. They relied on each other, watched each other's backs, and with the exception of Fluttershy, AJ had been with Twilight longer than anypony else since the start of the war.

"Oh Twi ah was just funning with ya'," she said. She had an easiness and a humor about her that seemed delusional.

"And that's the problem. We are not vacationing out here. This is a battlefield -- a military operation and I expect all under my command to treat the situation as such."

"And that's ur problem Twi. Ya'll need to lighten up a touch or two. Just cause it's a war don't mean its gotta be all blood n' guts all the time." Twilight got the feeling that what Applejack said, she said for her own benefit. Her heart ached for her friend. It wasn’t like Applejack to hide behind anything, especially behind a smile and bitter laugh. Twilight was worried about her.

They had proven themselves a formidable duo during combat simulations. Twilight was, as if by birthright, a skilled tactician; and Applejack possessed the strength, speed, and physical prowess needed to turn the unicorn's battle plans into action. Together they were nearly unstoppable. The brass recognized this, and insisted the two of them be assigned to the same company. But the differences in their skill sets inevitably lead them to very different positions in the military. Thanks to Twilight's strategic mind and natural leadership skills, she was, despite her limited combat experience, immediately promoted to the rank of commanding officer at the recommendation of Princess Celestia herself; while Applejack's earnest nature kept her from rising through the ranks. She was stubborn in her defiance of authority and whenever the brass did something she didn't agree with, the simple apple bucker from the countryside never hesitated to voice those disagreements. She was little more than a lowly grunt now, a foot soldier, her rank as private stagnant. She was destined to live out the remainder of the war struggling to survive on the front lines. Such was her reward for failing to be a good little solider and that suited her just fine.

"Why of course not darlings," a familiar voice interrupted them, "Don't forget it's also humid air, bugs and filth." The voice, neat and airy, belonged to Rarity. She seemed to appear from out of the forest by means of deposition, coming upon them silently, neither noticing her until she was well within speaking range -- a useful skill for a sniper. Rarity, unlike Applejack and just about every other pony in camp, was done up in full uniform. She wore a helmet camouflaged with bits of foliage sticking out of the top, and her exposed forelegs were painted a mix of greens, browns, and blacks. A bolt action riffle with a scope hung around her delicate neck, but despite being clad from horn to hoof in fatigues, Rarity could never hope to match the striking image of muscular lethality that was Applejack. Of all the ponies in Twilight's company Rarity looked to her the most displaced. The least suited for combat of any kind. Fortunately for her, and for the rest of the company, that couldn't have been further from the truth.

Rarity greeted her commanding officer with practiced poise as she saluted and stood at attention. Twilight beamed. Applejack was not impressed.

"At ease specialist," ordered Twilight. Rarity obeyed. She was exceptional at obeying commands, and she took great pride in serving under Lieutenant Sparkle, yet another trait that separated her from Applejack. Ease, however, was the furthest thing from her mind.

"Sir, Pvt. Dash and her squad have returned with information regarding the enemy's position," said Rarity. There was urgency in her voice.

"They found the camp?"

"I assume. Rainbow is waiting for you back at your tent."

"Good,” Twilight said, touching a nervous hoof to her chin. “Go and inform the others. You too AJ. When you find Pinkie and Fluttershy you know where to meet me."

"Sir, yes sir!" the two of them chorused before saluting and trotting off briskly in opposite directions. Twilight trotted off too, her mind heavy with thoughts of the coming battle.

Next Chapter: Chapter TWO Estimated time remaining: 3 Hours, 5 Minutes