“Again.”

I gritted my teeth and bathed my horn in orange mana for something like the hundredth time that day. Across from me, no more than ten yards away, was a plank of wood. I focused on the scorched target and tried to reach out into the world, to shape the threads of reality with my magic, to bend them to my will. If that sounds really fucking hard to you, then imagine being the one trying to do it.

Still, I could feel the intangible fingers of my magic grabbing onto something in the air. They radiated outward from a single point in the target, pulling heat out of the air and towards the focus. A bead of sweat tickling my forehead threatened to shatter my concentration, and I did my best to ignore it, which only made it worse. Finally, bellowing with all my might, I flared my horn with a powerful surge and released all the heat I’d managed to trap at once.

Another little scorch mark, smoking ever so faintly, was added to the board.

From the side of the empty metal hangar, Warped Glass walked over, shaking his head. “Enough for now. Go take a break and get yourself cleaned up before dinner.”

I frowned at him and wiped the sweat off of my brow. “I nearly had it that time.”

“After the last twenty times you said that I’m starting to doubt it,” Glass said, shaking his head. “A scorch is just a distraction, nothing more. And with a casting speed like that, you’ll just get yourself killed for nothing.”

I stomped my hoof on the ground. “I’m sorry I didn’t have any fancy teachers growing up to make me a fucking pyromancer,” I muttered, exasperated. “I only learned what I needed to learn for the forge. Telekinesis and fire resistance. That’s it.”

“And?” Glass asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re going to let that stop you?”

I ground my teeth against each other but remained silent.

“It’s never too late to learn new spells,” Glass continued, pacing in front of me. “I spend all my free time combing through the archives, searching for any new spells and tools of my craft that Equestria might have left us. Before the Silence, every unicorn knew how to cast a dozen basic spells. If the average civilian could light a candle with a thought, then we can too.”

“Lucky them,” I grumbled, pawing at the metal floor. We were in one of the Bastion’s empty hangars that the Sentinels had converted into a proving grounds for spells and that sort of thing. All sorts of targets and obstacles filled the place to let soldiers practice teleportation and other combat-oriented spells in a safe and controlled environment. Even now, a few unicorns were practicing their spellcraft, weaving serpents of fire and howling storms of icicles across holographic projections of griffons, zebras, dragons, some sort of bug ponies... basically anything that wasn’t a pony. The fact that none of the projections were ponies said something about who Equestria considered a threat before the Silence happened.

Sighing, Glass removed his helmet and rubbed at his sweaty mane. The pyromancies the other unicorns were casting were really making this place hot. “You have talent in you, kid. Your magic is naturally attuned to fire. Doesn’t take a trained mage to see that,” he said, pointing to the remaining burning coal on my right flank. “You just need to figure out how to tap into it. When you manage to do that, you’ll be burning your enemies to a crisp in no time.”

“And how do I do that?” I retorted, growing frustrated with both him and myself. “You make it sound oh so easy.”

“Watch your tone,” Glass warned me, and I flinched and gave him a salute. It’d been a few days since I became a Sentinel (or, well, a Sentinel-in-training) but I still slipped up from time to time when addressing officers. It didn’t help that I was kinda-sorta dating one who didn’t care for formalities. Except for when I forgot to address her by her title in front of a whole bunch of new recruits from Blackwash. I think she got some sort of sick amusement from dumping an entire crate of bullets on the ground and making me spend the rest of the day organizing them by serial number and putting them back.

Sighing, I shook my head. “It’s frustrating, sir,” I said, remembering to address him with a little more respect unless I wanted to get slapped with some more menial punishment. “To know that I’m supposed to be good at fire and then not be able to light up a stupid target.”

Glass just nodded. “Even the simplest spell takes practice. Work on it in your free time and read the Equestrian Field Manual for Unicorns. I don’t see why you wouldn’t be able to bathe an entire field in fire with enough practice.”

I bowed my head. “Thank you.” At his look, I hastily amended, “Sir.”

“Good. Go clean up. You’ve done a lot of work so far. Take the break before you’re back into the fire… hopefully not literally.”

“I’ll take literally if it means I can actually cast fire,” I said, smirking at him. Then I gave him a quick salute, and when he returned it, I pivoted in place and marched out of the hangar. At least marching basics hadn’t been too hard to get a handle on.

Without even a second thought, I hung a right upon leaving the proving grounds. Even though the Bastion was still a huge labyrinth, I was starting to get the feel of it after four days of training and drilling. I passed by a few ponies I recognized on my way to my bunk, and we exchanged simple nods. As it turns out, my shitty little speech was actually able to get a few more volunteers on board with taking down the Crimson. I think Sig said there were something like sixty ponies out of a hundred-something who volunteered for combat. The forty or so who didn’t volunteered to help out behind the scenes, making sure weapons and supplies were ready for the fight, that sort of thing. At least it was better than doing nothing. I was so proud of my community. Everypony was pitching in to rescue the ones Carrion still kept locked up at his hideout.

I found the staircase and began the long trek down to the maintenance hangar, wishing that the elevators worked. Another thing I learned over the last few days was that the Bastion was really only running on emergency power. Gauge, of course, had spent a lot of time talking to the support staff and learning as much as he could about their facility, and he told me that the Bastion’s fusion plants had melted down sometime over the past two hundred winters due to neglect. Apparently, the bottom four levels or something like that were practically glowing with radiation and fallout, so nopony dared to go down there. That just left solar power and an aging fission plant to try to keep critical systems powered. If the Bastion did have more power, then they would’ve been able to access its heavy weapons arsenal, rumored to be home to dozens of tanks and ringbirds and other heavy machinery—machinery that would’ve made a huge difference in the fight against the Crimson.

I stepped out of the staircase and into a short hallway lit by dim red lights. The hangar was just down the hall, and it was the only thing on this floor that was close enough to well lit. Inside were a ton of greasy and dirty ponies crawling in, around, and on top of a metal behemoth, resting idly in the middle of the hangar. The thing was low profile and looked very sharp with all its angles and sleek construction. Sporting a whopping Bronco 124mm cannon housed in a turret that could lower into the body of the tank to reduce its profile, the Scinfaxi T11 Main Battle Tank was a mean machine that I would’ve loved to have on our side. But, well, finding parts to repair its decrepit turbine engine made that wish little more than a pipe dream.

I found Chaff playing on the turret of the tank. It was his favorite place to be while he stayed with us at the Bastion. I’d wanted to send him back to his parents as soon as possible, but the Sentinels didn’t see it as worth the effort to bring him back home when they needed to focus on doing the impossible and beating down the Crimson with what little time we had on our side. So, for now, the colt just hung around the hangar, entertaining himself and the mechanics with his antics.

I’d also kept it a secret that not only did he have an older brother, but said brother was currently sitting in chains in the brig as a prisoner of war. Not sure how well that would’ve gone over. I figured he’d learn from his parents whenever we finally got around to bringing him home. Probably after Barley beat his flank for running away from home and leaving them worried.

A striped tail poked out from under the back end of the tank, and I dragged the fat ass it was attached to out with my magic. Gauge yelped at the sudden tug and glared up at me once he saw who was responsible. “Oh, it’s you. Don’t you have better things to be doing than bothering me? Like organizing a box of bullets or bathing in a drill sergeant’s shit?”

“Did enough of that today. Glass told me to get some rest before dinner.” I found a toolbox to sit down on and took off my helmet. After wearing Sentinel armor for a few days, I was finally getting used to the weight. They still wouldn’t let me turn it on, though, so the guns were empty and the shields were down. They only had a small number of power cores that had to be kept charged when not in use and they weren’t going to waste them when there wasn’t any danger.

“Oh?” Gauge asked, sitting up and tossing a huge wrench to the side, nearly clipping SCaR as it darted out from under the tank. “So, what? Have you become death incarnate, ready to bring a fiery end to the Crimson’s reign of terror across the valley?”

“If only,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. “I can’t even set a stupid piece of wood on fire. I just scorch the damn thing. And then I see the veterans that can make all sorts of fiery cool shit with a thought and it pisses me off.” Sighing, I set my helmet on the ground and rubbed at my eyes. “I’m not patient enough for this shit.”

“That was never one of your strong suits, no,” Gauge said, giving me a half-smirk. A shower of sparks drew his attention, and he waved his hooves as SCaR began fiddling with something in the engine. “No, no, no! That goes there, that goes there!” he shouted, pointing at a few different doohickeys I couldn’t make any sense of. SCaR made some annoyed buzzing noise and went back to work, leaving Gauge to shake his head and sigh. Groaning, he stood up and dragged another toolbox over to sit on. “Bet you’re making better progress than we are, though.”

I looked at the back end of the tank, which was basically gutted. The Sentinels had stripped its huge turbine engine a while ago to try to get a better idea of what they needed to fix it. “What’s the hitch now?”

“Just a whole lot of little menial things,” Gauge said, shrugging. “A lot of the pieces inside of it need to be replaced. Warm air and moisture did a lot of awful things to the moving parts. They did find a stash of much needed spare parts at the Fort, and they salvaged a ton off of the ringbird we downed. If all goes according to plan, and I hesitate to say it will…” He just gave the tank something of an excited look.

“Guess that’s why you guys started stacking shells over there?” I asked, pointing to the space that’d been cleared in the corner of the hangar, where a pair of earth ponies were busy rolling out high explosive shells and lining them up in neat order.

“We’re hopeful. Really, getting pieces from the ringbird’s rotor engines helped immensely.”

The clopping of hooves turned our attention to Chaff, who was victoriously trotting toward us from where he’d leapt off the tank. “I can’t wait for you guys to fix the tank! Will I get to ride on it? Huh?”

Gauge and I exchanged looks. “Maybe,” Gauge offered, trying to placate the colt. “We’ll have to test drive it before we put it to use in battle. Assuming that we even finish it in time.”

“But you’re not going to ride it into battle,” I said, frowning at the colt. “If it were up to me, we’d have already sent you back to Northlight. Your mom and your Pop-Pop are worried sick about you.”

Chaff fidgeted where he stood. “Yeah…”

Gauge was more sympathetic to him. “They’ll just be happy to know that you’re safe. The moment this is all over, we’ll bring you home safely. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Just prepare for the flank whooping of a lifetime,” I muttered out of the side of my muzzle. I just shrugged when Gauge shot me a dirty look. I mean, was I wrong to expect that?

Gauge gave the tank one last look before shrugging and kicking open his toolbox. “You said you were going to get dinner?”

“After I clean up,” I said. “I’m icky and covered in sweat.”

“Never stopped you at Blackwash,” Gauge said, a hint of a tease in his voice.

“Back in Blackwash we couldn’t shower whenever we wanted,” I said. “I just got used to going to bed caked in soot and ash from the forge. It’s really good for eyeliner.”

Gauge chuckled. “Eyeliner? On you? I don’t think black on black stands out all that much.”

“No, but Nova sure loved it,” I said, smirking at him. “Stands out pretty nice on a white coat. Mix a little ash with some grease and you’ve got yourself some passable makeup. I’d give her some whenever she wanted to impress.”

“Charcoal and chicken egg whites!” Chaff exclaimed from where he sat. “That’s how my mama does it!”

“You mares and your makeup,” Gauge said. “Not even the fall of civilization is going to stop you from trying to look pretty.”

“You’re complaining?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He laughed and shook his head. “Not in the slightest. If anything, I’m flattered that you think us stallions are worth impressing.”

Chaff just made a gagging noise and stuck out his tongue.

Gauge began to collect his scattered tools from around the tank and toss them in the toolbox. “I’m going to do some cleanup down here, then I’ll meet you for dinner. Sound good?”

I nodded, looking forward to getting out of my armor. It didn’t weigh all that much, but it was still plenty of extra weight I carried around all day. “See you then.”

Gauge and Chaff were already in the mess hall by the time I got there. Neither had showered like I had; I could tell at a glance, because Gauge still proudly wore his grease stains like a second coat. The mess was still pretty empty, because most of the Bastion was busy training the volunteers and getting them as ready for war as possible before we ran out of time. The only reason I wasn’t stuck with the rest of them was because I’d already proved myself at the Fort, and I’d just be taking time away from ponies who actually needed to learn how to use a gun properly. Besides, getting specialist training in pyromancy was a much more fulfilling use of my time, even if I was awful at it.

I tossed my damp mane over my shoulder and grabbed the usual awful fare from the line before sitting down with Gauge and Chaff. At this point, I just mindlessly ate the shit. You learn to deal with it when it’s the only thing to eat.

Ponies trickled in as we ate, though they were mostly support staff that kept to themselves. Gauge and I watched them as they muttered amongst themselves and stretched sore muscles. “Guess even they have to do some training,” Gauge commented.

I nodded. “Zip said that they’re the Sentinels’ last resort. Even if we do beat the Crimson, they’re probably going to lose a lot of good soldiers. They’ll need something to build off of, make sure that they don’t collapse even after winning the war.”

“And if the worst happens?” Gauge asked.

“Then they’ll have to hold the Bastion and try to survive,” I said, shrugging. “Not a pretty picture, but this place is so damn important and fortified. Imagine if Carrion kicked us out and moved in. Nothing would ever be able to destroy the Crimson then.”

Gauge gravely nodded and held his cup between his hooves. “I still can’t believe that it’s all coming down to a roll of the dice. That’s not a very encouraging idea to put faith in.”

“It was a roll of the dice that led to us taking the Fort and freeing you,” I said, reaching across the table and holding his hoof. “That could have easily been the ruin of the Sentinels and they tried it anyway. Their gamble paid off. We just need to believe that luck is on our side.”

“That’s really all we can do.” Sighing, he put his head in his hooves. “I wish I had something better to stake Nova’s fate on.”

The chatter of a hundred exhausted ponies entering the mess interrupted our conversation. In staggered the Blackwash volunteers, many hardly able to do more than limp and groan, with equally exhausted Sentinels at their flanks. While they found food and seats, Zip and Sig glided over to our usual table and took off their helmets. I could tell from their sluggish wingbeats that even they were basically dead from drilling recruits all day. As they sat down, I discreetly leaned over to Zip and nuzzled her cheek for a second before parting. As she made evidently clear with the bullet incident, she didn’t want our little relationship undermining her authority, but I could tell she needed the affection. She gave me a quiet hum and flicked her tail against mine to show the gesture was appreciated, but nothing else.

“Busy day?” I asked, pushing my empty tray aside.

Zip’s head slowly tilted down and back up. “You know it,” she mumbled, her bleary eyes watching the volunteers work their way through the line for food. “I don’t know how we’re going to be ready for this fight. We can only cram so many things into their skulls before we’re all too tired to do anything more.”

“At least they respond well to commands,” Sig offered. He began to claw some dirt out of his talons and shrugged his wings. “Half of them know at least the basics of using a gun. The ones who served in that militia of yours are very helpful for getting lessons across,” he added, shooting me a weary smile.

A little Blackwash pride stirred in my breast. “We put a lot of emphasis on having a solid militia. We never knew if something would come after us one day, and we had to keep the local shrike population under control as well.” Then my ears wilted as I remembered exactly why I was here. “Turns out we were less prepared than we thought…”

“You were ambushed late at night by a vicious and experienced raiding party,” Sig said. “All things considered, it could’ve been a lot worse.”

“I hate to think of how things could’ve been worse,” Gauge muttered, staring at his hooves. SCaR sadly whirred, and Gauge patted it like a dog.

Well that sure killed the mood. Though he was right; I don’t think things could’ve gotten much worse for us. I don’t even think every one of us dying would’ve been all that bad compared to what Gauge and the others that were captured have been through.

Zip cleared her throat and pulled out a scrap of paper from one of the pockets on her armor. She dropped it in front of me and pointed to it. “Your first orders. Congratulations.”

I blinked at the paper and unfurled it with my magic. “Orders?”

“Hastily trained volunteers given guns and armor aren’t going to win this fight for us,” Sig said. “We need to recruit people who already have experience. We’ve got a few missions lined up to comb the valley for volunteers, and we’re assigned to this one.”

Frowning, I spun the paper around in my magic until I finally had it oriented the right way. It only had a simple note scribbled across it: ‘Quarry. Sgt Sigur and PFC Ember. 0500.’

When I set the paper down, Sig smiled at me and stretched his wings slightly. “It’ll just be the two of us, and we’ll be leaving before dawn. Make sure you’re ready to go.”

“Go where?” Gauge asked, looking between me and Zip and Sig. “It’s not classified, is it?”

“‘Where’ isn’t all that important, other than that we can find help there,” Sig said, crossing his arms. “And I know that they’ll be willing to help.”

“Good,” Gauge said. “The more ponies we have to help kill that bastard, the sooner I’ll get to see Nova.”

“We never said anything about ponies,” Zip said, smirking at the zebra.

At Gauge’s confused expression, Sig nodded. “That’s right.” Smirking at me, he leaned back in his seat. “I figure it’s high time I paid my flock a visit.”