The bulk of the day spent waiting until our ten o’clock meeting with the General was spent mostly doing random shit to pass the time. Most of the camp had been emptied in light of the General’s call to push the line further South and into Nopony’s Land, which separated us and the Legion’s camp by about six-and-a-half miles. Naturally, this left myself and the others in my Squad with very little to do. Since we were not cleared for active duty but rather were being held under a ‘temporary leave’, we were not allowed to even be near a loaded firearm just in the freak event it went off and killed one of us. They couldn't afford to lose anyone called to such an important meeting and thus...we did the only things we could do under the circumstances. Eating, napping and talking.

“Goddesses I’m so fucking bored…” Buck Beak groaned as he lay on his back nearby, the noonday sun and the natural heat of the region making sleep almost impossible. “Can’t we go ask the fucking M.O.P peoples for one of their blankets?”

“You know they’d just laugh you right out the door…” Rain Dancer sighed as he fanned his sweat riddled face with a fan made out of a Stable-Tech flier. “Talk about budget cuts and the ‘scarcity of resources’ and all that bullshit…”

I too rolled my eyes at their annoying claims when they seemed to give out health potions like candy to anypony who was wounded but refused to see you if you were deemed ‘battle ready’ due to the aforementioned ‘budget cuts’. We knew the national budget was hurting something fierce over the last decade and a half but with most of it put into the War effort, you'd think valuable assets such as ourselves would be afforded a bit more comfort to keep us at peak readiness. The blankets in question were made of the same kind of material as the inner lining of our armored underbarding with its specialized temperature regulating crystal fibers that would make sleeping on the sun itself a breeze. I loved those blankets as much as anypony who had the chance to feel and/or sleep with one but the only way to get anywhere near them was to get shot pretty bad or some other kind of grave injury beyond the scope of a combat medic to handle. Unfortunately, nopony was allowed to have one outside of the M.O.P tents because they were government property and weren’t ‘toys’. I'd counter-argue we were in the same category but it was just too damned hot to account for counter-counter-arguments and the like. The Badlands certainly lived up to their name by being bad in almost every way.

“I could just shoot myself in the paw or something.” Buck Beak suggested, looking at all of us with damp, rustled feathers giving him a disgruntled and unpleasant look. “Go over to the firing range and have an ‘accident’?”

“You did that twice on our last tour and three times on the one before that, Buck. They’re gonna catch on and stop healing you. They may be blanket-hogging dicks but they’re not stupid.” Penny sighed, her voice muffled slightly from the damp towel covering her face in an attempt to keep cool. “Besides...they won’t wrap you up in a blanket for a dumb old bullet hole to the paw…”

“They did last time!” He challenged. “Remember?”

“Yeah, that’s because you almost shot your entire fucking leg off you dumbass! Did you really need to use a shotgun when something like a pistol would’ve worked just as well if not better? You could have just used a peashooter like a 9mm or maybe a .45 if you were feeling particularly stupid.” Huckleberry piped in, giggling softly as she was the unfortunate one who had to help him to the M.O.P tents hobbling on three limbs, the fourth of which was barely hanging on for dear life by what we later learned was a single tendon.

He growled and yanked the towel from off of Penny’s face and threw it over his own much to her annoyance. Thus began yet another round of tug-of-war between the two of them over the rights to the towel, the smuggled canteen and their offer of a temporary blessing of relief. The heat in the Badlands usually hit around one hundred and twenty or so during the early summer hitting a high of one-thirty in the middle and only slightly cooling down to the high nineties in the late summer. In the years before Equestria more or less kicked them out in lieu of farming, the Badlands had been home to one of the largest Dragon Nests in the whole world. Literally tens of thousands of them would flock to the region living in the caves dug into the red canyon walls and congregating as they were like to do as the region was warm, desolate and perfect. The Great Dragon Migration was, as I was told by my mom who remembered the peaceful days before Equestria’s aggressive expansion, a sight to behold. The skies over PonyVille and any other towns in the migratory path would be filled with the glittering scales of thousands and thousands of Dragons all headed to the Badlands to gather, mate and catch up with old friends from all around the world. I was told by some of the older soldiers and the truly retired Veterans that the noise of the War in the Badlands was like birds chirping peacefully compared to the sheer raw noise the Migration created every year. Of course, all that was long before I was even born. Dragons had been scattered across the globe with no one nation to call their own or even a communal place to gather.

So much about Equestria had changed from the time I was born until now...happiness, true genuine and unbridled happiness, was a rare sight anywhere. Everypony was always grim and looking over their shoulders, huddling in small groups where conversations were held in hushed whispers because it was impossible to tell where the Ministry of Morale’s peeping ears and eyes were to be found. Ministry of Morale...what a fucking joke. There was no morale to be found in the ponies of Equestria when the damn Ministry set up to be the smiling face of Equestrian life was watching every single fucking thing you did and listened to every words you said and read every word you ever typed. It was literally as if the Ministry had declared war on its own people...Pinkie Pie was a sadistic bitch and I didn’t care what anypony said about her happy, go-lucky nature. A mare who made it her business to make everypony’s business her own business was not a mare I wanted to meet nor would willingly support. Unfortunately...I didn’t have a fucking choice in the matter as did nopony else save for Princess Luna herself but privately...I was quite convinced Luna had lost her mind. Just like everypony and everything else in the world. And why was it so fucking hot?!

“Will you guys fucking STOP IT?!” I burst out suddenly, the noise and the heat and the monotony of the situation driving me to snap. “You’re like a bunch of fucking kids! Buck, get your own stupid ass motherfucking bitch ass towel, goddamnit!”

Everypony sat in stunned silence as I stood there panting and shaking with rage, sweat dripping off of my cheeks and the tip of my muzzle like I had stuck my head under a shower head. I never yelled at them, not over petty bullshit like this so why was I doing so now?

“Sorry…” I sighed as I slipped back down to my seat and laid my head on the all-too-warm metal table which only made me more miserably hot. “Just...stop fighting...please. I'm so sick of this bullshit...”

I could feel all their eyes on me but I didn’t give a damn. I was hot, flustered, anxious and worst of all bored. When I got bored my only recourse was finding something like a book to read or a rifle to disassemble and clean over several hours. Just anything that I could use to focus my thoughts on and keep me from having to run circles around in my own fucking mind. Unfortunately, I was all but barred from finding things to keep me occupied and so I was stuck with these yahoos and their petty squabbles over a stupid towel. Without another word, I stood and walked out of the tent and into the even hotter sunlight outside, wincing at the bright light shining right into my eyes from on high. If this didn't prove I was a child of the night, I didn't know what would...

“Alright, first thing is to jack a pair of fucking sunglasses…” I mumbled to myself before the tent flap opened and Huckleberry trotted out to my side with a hint of trepidation.

“Hey...mind if I join you?” She asked even though she knew my answer already.

“Please.” I said simply, beginning my journey to the galley since soldiers were always prone to leaving sunglasses there and since I wasn’t allowed to wear my helmet (which would have provided its own air conditioning and shade from the sun) I had to settle for the next step down.

“You doing ok…?” She asked softly as we edged our way past a line of wagons hauling 150mm Solar Eclipse Shells towards the artillery batteries located on the Eastern canyon wall, dangerously close to the trenches.

“Eh…” I sighed while we waited for a group of Privates trot past in pursuit of the wagon train. “Been better…”

“Your cycle didn’t come early did it?” She asked sweetly and in a hushed tone, my mare knowing my schedule for when I went into heat just like I did her. “That would suck ass…”

I giggled softly and replied, “If I was, I’d be asking you to do just that. No...I’m just bored out of my fucking mind and this heat is killing me.”

“Yeah…” She sighed as well, sparing a small glance upwards to scowl at the sun before saying, “Fuck youuuuuu.”

Her cheerful, wacky behavior was enough to lift me a bit out of my dark mood and she accompanied me into the galley for the tenth time that day. They at least had large fans with misters in place to cool the staff and occupants and while we couldn't stay for long due to Camp rules, there wasn't enough COs on deck to keep an eye on how many times we visited. The cooks on duty (who were mostly disabled or handicapped veterans who still wanted to serve their country and earn a paycheck) were less than surprised at our arrival and since the camp was empty, they had no one to serve. With the galley entirely devoid of occupants however, they invited us behind the counters to the large portable freezer which they used to chill out (no pun intended) and rest from the brutal hot summer heat. Was hardly an offer I was willing to refuse.

“Congrats on th’ promotion Crete!” A toothy old Pegasus stallion commented as he unlocked the large chrome freezer door and opened it, a wonderful blizzard of cold icy air hitting all of us like the kisses of angels. “I wanted to be a Lieutenant Colonel but I couldn’t pass th’ exams so they stuck me with th’ humble rank of Major.”

“Thanks…?” I said unconvincingly, not entirely in the mood to chit chat with these random ponies as we sat on boxes of frozen beets and carrots. “I take it you were part of the Airborne Corps?”

“How’d ya know?” He asked, putting his old uniform’s patches on display which clearly indicated he was only a Staff Sergeant in the Airborne Corps which meant he was a Non-Commissioned Officer and not an actual officer.

“Intuition?” I said with a forced laugh, looking towards Huckleberry for help.

She grimaced in reply but mouthed, ‘Better in here than outside.’ which I couldn’t argue with. The stallion was getting a little on my nerves which were only slightly tempered by the freezer. Talking with the three that had joined us in there, we had learned non-verbally that everyone else just smiled and went along with the old guy's version of things to keep his spirits up. The other two were easy to talk to thankfully, a mare in her thirties missing a leg from a Scorpios and a Wolf that had damaged two of his paws from getting body-slammed off the canyon wall by one of the rare Rhino units normally only seen in the Empire itself. After a few minutes though, the door buzzed and the old vet took off excitedly to help whoever had just come in leaving the freezer far more comfortable to converse in.

"Well, thanks again for letting us hide in here for awhile." I grinned at both of them, shivering slightly from the sweat that had turned to ice in some places in my fur.

"Please, for a couple of Veteran Rangers? Easiest shit we can do with the small amount of power they give us." The Wolf chuckled, his size and faint red patches of fur near the eyes and down the tail hinting at some Direwolf blood in his genealogy somewhere.

"Yeah...I'm sure kitchen duty isn't anywhere near as glamorous as what you guys used to do." Hucks admitted with a hint of awkwardness, sharing my slight discomfort for being in the fight while they could not.

"Well if you wanna compare cracking eggs and chopping vegetables to cracking skulls and chopping Zeebs down with bullets, no fuckin' contest." Said the mare, gazing at our Ranger patches with longing. "But...it ain't all bad here."

"Yeah, we eat before all of you so we can do our jobs without getting hangry and get paid pension on top of what they pay us here. For only having to cook and clean to make 58k a year, I could be doing a hell of a lot worse for myself. Not a lot of city jobs for Wolves and I ain't one for super blue-collar shit ya know?"

"Well...yeah, I guess that's pretty decent after all." I admitted, glancing around the freezer at all the frozen meats hanging from hooks around us. "So uh...gotta ask...is it weird having to prepare steaks and such?"

"Well if you're asking me, yeah I guess it was at first." Replied the mare, glancing at a rack of beef next to her casually. "Helps knowin' I'm not eating it and I like to talk whenever its my turn to sharpen the old cutting tools so it helps keep my stomach inside me. Don't have anything against meat-eaters but eh...just not my cup of tea ya know?"

"I mean...kinda obvious what my feelings toward it are..." The Wolf chuckled, looking around with with a hint of hunger in his bright brown eyes.

"Naturally!" I laughed, unwittingly adding, "I like it too from time to time."

"No shit huh?" The mare said with surprise, eyeing me out of the corner of her eye with a mixture of interest and aversion. "Wouldn't have taken you for a meat-eater, Colonel."

"Well it's not like I have a fucking steak every other week..." I groaned, scrambling to defend my odd consumption habit. "In survival training, they teach you to use whatever source of nutriment you can obtain while stranded. Well...after four days wandering the Arbak Jungle with no food, I sank my knife into a large rat and had...a sort of life changing experience. Sure, I had some stomach problems from it but it was the first food I had tasted in days and I didn't even mind that it had come from an animal. That part of the jungle was mostly toxic to an herbivore, exactly why they selected it for that part of the training. Sometimes...ya just need to choke it down if it'll keep the engine running and the more I tried it, the more I found an appreciation for its flavor."

The Wolf seemed overjoyed and gave a soft howl of excitement, "Yes! Finally one of you ponies fucking gets it! You think hunting a Zeeb with a rifle is tense? Try doing it with just your wits and your bare teeth. Just like my ancestors used to do it baby! Ain't nothing more satisfying than tearing out throats and feeling them bleed out in your jaws."

I smiled wide for him, pointing to my teeth and responded, "Yeah, don't think these babies are designed to rip and tear hun. Why do you think I have to cut my meat into very small pieces and I have to avoid sinew and fatty tissues? Can't really gnaw my way through them like you can."

He nodded in acknowledgement while the mare simply rolled her eyes and stretched out. They had both taken my odd indulgence rather well, even better than Huckleberry had when I first admitted it to her several years prior. Her palate had always been a tad more dainty than my own, preferring as high a quality a meal as she could possibly get no matter the effort needed to obtain it. I could suffice myself on cold canned goods, packaged bread and the jerkied meats usually meant for carnivorous field rations if I couldn't find a fresh source on my own. Got a decent amount of weird looks from ponies when I asked for it, but it wasn't a huge social deviancy in survival situations. Hucks...let's just say that she considered my stomach to be made of something akin to Celestium. In her hooflocker, she kept a large box full of small glass jars of spices that she would then put into smaller vials hid in her large, thigh-mounted medic bags. I had to admit, powdered garlic, salt and a little pepper can bring out the most flavor for your time in most meals we had.

"So, what are you two up to this fine day in hell?" The mare asked after a small lull in the conversation. "Would've expected a pair of Vets to be out there...well, you know."

"Unfortunately we have a meeting with the General." Hucks commented, hugging herself as the chill began to sink its icy fangs through our uniforms. "No clue what it's about so I couldn't gossip about it even if I wanted to."

"Damnit..." The Wolf growled, glaring at the aluminum flooring with frustration. "I hate being outa the fight! We don't have any idea what the fuck is going on out there yet we are near the combat zone?"

"Oh not this again..." The mare groaned, leaning back to rub her eyes one at a time.

"I'm serious! I've only been of the field for six months and noone can give me a straight answer as to what the hell is our standing. One day we're pushing South like a freight train and the next it seems like we're having to turn on the bombard generators because the Zeebs did a whole no-you on us and got some artillery back in range. I just wanna know...bottom of your hearts, honest truth...are we winning out there?"

He looked between Hucks and I intensely, a small shiver that wasn't the cold trickling its way down my spine as I locked eyes with him. The mare seemed interested as well and I caught her glancing at the door to see that it was firmly shut. As private a conversation as we could ask for. I doubted even M.O.M would bug something so clandestine as a fucking freezer.

"I...honestly don't know." I said with as much sincerity as I could muster. "I'm not just saying that either..."

"I'm afraid I have to agree with the Colonel here." Hucks followed up with. "We've only been here a few days since we came in with the supply shipment."

"An 'I don't know' is still more honest than a yes...I believe you." He sighed, scratching an ear with a hind leg though with a noticeable limp. "How about overall then? A Captain and a Lieutenant Colonel should have been around long enough to be able to give me something better than that."

"Don't push it Brushthorn..." The mare warned, glancing at us warily. "Please don't..."

"I won't, don't worry about that hun." I reassured her, covering my oak leaves with a hoof. "I'll speak to you as an equal and say it as I see it. We are in a perpetual Meat Grinder and this is a War of attrition that neither of us can win without either the world economy collapsing or...drastic measures are done to ensure one side or the other is the last mare standing. StableTec, the M.O.W, plenty of other companies have a deeply vested interest in the War's continuation since money is being constantly channeled into them and their military contracts. NEATO is falling apart at the seams since few of the nations involved actually joined it willingly and all the while, the Empire is digging in with ever more ferocity into every inch of ground they take."

The silence that followed was telling. I had said exactly what he wanted to hear with exactly the level of brutal honest he had requested and yet...my answer was all at once defeating and enlightening. Huckleberry chose to remain silent, simply nodding at me and agreeing with my every word.

"Glad I ain't the only one seeing holes in this whole grand scheme of things." Brushthorn laughed if in a pained, sarcastic tone. "Least some people in higher ranks notice this shit too."

"Well that really doesn't say much..." I sighed. "We're only a Captain and Lt. Colonel by circumstance and rarely have to engage with that side of the bureaucracy nightmare. In all reality, we are far more Veteran Rangers than we are COs. We rarely meet with desk jockeys, have limited interaction with anyone higher than Colonel Little Horn who is himself a full Colonel by the same set of circumstances we are. We get it because we fucking see it almost daily. We aren't your normal ass 0-3s or above who get kicked off the field and shoved behind a desk like someone from the GA. Unlike them, we are still out there kicking ass while they only know us as names on a terminal or a map."

"Well...glad a sense of cynicism isn't lost on you Ranger types." The mare laughed softly, getting to her hooves and shuffling to get warm as the cold seemed to finally be too much for any of us to bear. "Maybe try and bring these concerns to your next meeting though...? I think I can speak for Brush here when I say that we both don't have a lot of confidence in the War or where its headed. We spin in circles trading the same goddamned stretch of useless sand back and forth for what, the last eight, nine years?"

"More or less depending on your brand of semantics." Hucks commented also standing up. "We can try but...that kind of 'defeatist' talk is eh...very no-no around the brass. They don't like hearing about ponies getting second thoughts about their patriotic duty..."

They certainly didn't...more than one officer had mysteriously vanished or been reassigned for having similarly distracting thoughts. While I had sought out the freezer for relief from the wait up until my meeting, I found myself regretting it in light of the extra weight of anxiety put on my shoulders from this honest conversation. Fucking hell 10pm just wouldn't come soon enough let alone be over and done with...

“Ah, perfect! Common’ in Alpha!” The General boomed out in his low, gravelly voice as the door to his office was opened by one of his precious Shock Troopers.

We filed in, all of us thankfully allowed back into our temperature controlled armor, and we took our seats at his large oak table that had a map of the area literally carved into the wood. Being meticulously sanded and painted in minute aerial detail, it was impressive to say the least and I took a few moments to get a feel for where our troopers were on the field. The position of dozens of little pony shaped figurines scattered about the map was enlightening to say the least. Since none of us had even been allowed a peek at even a tactical map the entirety of the day, I was completely unaware as to how the battle was going. By the look of all the GA marked figures forming a long curved line near the exit to the valley and the artillery pieces nearing the same location, we had pushed them back out into Nopony Land. Past that, the map of the Southern Wilderness was covered by a clear sheet of flexible plastic striped with red bars to indicate approximate enemy holdings. The day's gains would serve our plan well as the fringe patrols would be set on a path even closer to where Captain Onyx had specified our search was to take place. Still...seeing the model of Fort FuckOff sitting just three miles from the new front was a bit unsettling. Every time we started to get close to it, the more caskets were being sent home and the lines would be redrawn once more. Fucking tick dug in deep into the desert.

“Well, I’m sure you’re curious why I brought you all here and kept you guys off the front lines.” He said casually, stating the obvious so much that it hurt. “Well, I’ll tell you. I received word last night that the Zebras have a fresh caravan of supplies en-route from the Empire that are going to make landfall in the next week or so. I want you and a team of my elite Shock Troopers to clear a path through enemy lines and take those supplies out. A volunteer Brigade across the Corps will be formed in the time leading up until this caravan arrives and will make a concentrated push towards the enemy encampment. This will provide sufficient distraction to allow your combined Squad to slip behind their lines unnoticed while a team of Dash's finest Shadowbolt snipers will provide overwatch. Havin' them flown in especially for this op so don't make me waste the good Mare of the Ministry's best on a botched job.”

Everypony looked at one another excitedly. A Stash-N’-Blow job was much more fun than a Bag-N’-Tag because it meant we gotta be loud. VERY loud. Well, at the right time of course. Generally we were to be as stealthy as possible to make it to the supply location and then from there tear ass six ways till Monday, raising all hell with all the ammo, explosive ordinance and sheer brutality we could muster. I was surprised he was willing to part with his precious Shock Troopers so I could only imply the supply caravan was going to be fucking huge. One thing for sure I noticed on the newer Power Armor models...everything looked bigger, including the heat they were packing. The standard Tin Head packed a 25mm automatic grenade launcher and a 5.56mm minigun but these new bastards seemed to have 40mm grenade launchers and what I could only guess was a .50 minigun. Whatever the hell they were carrying, it was big and perfect for this kind of op. Just how many of these things were already on the field let alone in production...?

“Now, any questions before I deliver your official briefing?” He asked, having his secretary (whom we were all pretty convinced slept with the General for extra money) float out small holotapes that we would stick into our helmets which would play a full mission report on our visors.

“Sir, I’m sure this will already be covered in the briefing but may I ask why this op is being labeled as Operation: Downsize? The last time that term was implemented, it was by the Ministry of Morale when they were pushing for the countrywide restriction on reproducing children in mass numbers.” Huckleberry said, bringing up a very good point. The M.O.M had used that very same codename for the population control measures they were implementing to reduce the potential drain on resources that could go towards the War.

“You’ve got a keen eye there Captain Crisp!” The General crooned in a manner than made us both shiver in disgust. “The caravan was reported to be carrying little striped bastards by the dozens because they thought they were gonna kick our asses out of here and were going to swoop in to populate the region and build an army on our own soil. Sucks for them that they didn’t get the news we pushed those fuckers back! It’s the perfect time to eliminate all their potential new Empire lovin’ soldiers from growing up to bite us in the ass!”

“Wait, back up. You want us to kill children?!” Penny cried out.

“Aye, that I do. Gotta problem with that, Lieutenant?” The General challenged, the edge in his voice sharp and ready to cut at her neck if she protested another word.

We all remained in stunned, horrified silence which he smiled at and seemed to take as our commitment to the job.

“Perfect! The briefing will tell you everythin’ you need to know about late-term aborting the shit out of those little bastards. Alright, dismissed. Go off and kick some more Imperial ass for me will ya? You will be cleared for partial duty until the date specified, we still need your hooves in the action a bit.” He said, standing and nodding to the door as a signal the conversation was over and further protests would be handled...unconventionally.

We filed out quicker than entered and didn’t say a word until we had gotten halfway back to our tent. The entire situation was absolutely shocking to all of us, some of us more cold hearted than others but even that was a non-factor here. The Empire had gotten bold from its most recent gains in the South and either due to faulty info or something else, they had the bright idea of somehow taking these gains and turning them into a colony on the Continent?? They had kept a firm grip on the Southern Wilderness for quite a few years now yes, but all that time had ensured it was all but entirely secure. If we could lob 150mm Solar Flares into their territory on a semi-regular basis and had marginally better air-superiority, what made them think it was a good place to bring in a bunch of kids? Everything felt wrong about this...

“I’m not fucking doing this. I don’t know about the rest of you but I’m not going to kill a bunch of kids just because I’m told to. Hell, I don’t give a fuck if you use Little Bighorn as your excuse, you can count me and my ass out of this.” Huckleberry said firmly, a sentiment we all shared more or less unanimously.

“So that’s it then? Are we going to disobey direct orders and keep our consciences or are we going to obey direct orders and keep our lives?” Rain Dancer asked, looking at each of us seriously.

“Fuck it.” I said simply. “I think I still have enough morality left in the tank for this. We gotta warn him.”

Next Chapter: Chapter Fifteen: Time to Clean House and Scram Estimated time remaining: 25 Hours, 45 Minutes