When it comes to my favorite climates to be in, you could call me a bit of a traditionalist. Or just nostalgic, it really could be argued both ways when it came to my love of four seasons with temperatures that rarely hit any extremes. Such was the climate of PonyVille where I grew up...could always expect more or less the same of each season year after year. Of course, most of that was thanks to the old traditions becoming a tourist goldmine for those seeking to get in touch with our past in a government approved way.

That, and just the fact the town just loved the old ways and had fought in court for the right to keep them. It was the only town in the entire country to still perform the actual physical act of Winter Wrap-Up or the Running of the Leaves and was the largest town still using Pegusi to manage the local weather. Somehow they managed to both embrace the new world of industry and keep it at an arm's length in order to keep traditions alive. Naturally it helped to have multiple surviving residents who were touched by the power of the Elements of Harmony still living there who knew all the stories and traditions. But still...it was nice to live in a place with a spring, summer, autumn and winter; each coming and going more or less like clockwork year in and year out. Predictable, comfortable and consistent.

Now...contrasting that to present-me was enough to make anyone question some of the choices I made along the way. Before me, all I could see was sand. And not the reddish clay sand of the Badlands or even the dunes of the San-Palomino which I had chosen to live in for its proximity to Camp Macintosh. No...even the San-Palomino had some life to spruce up the landscape with yucca, agave, aloe, cacti and many other humble, hardy plants dotting the hot emptiness that can keep one alive in a pinch. Here...there was nothing but sand. No bits of dried clay or dirt, just endless rolling dunes of pure golden sand punctuated every now and then by a jagged hill or mountain of sandstone. While being good for at least some boon of navigating the emptiness as well as a source of shade, they also stood as the tallest thing around a girl without wings can perch on. Why? Well...

"Knock, knock."

Oh gods here we go again...

"What, Buck? You're a master at speaking your fucking mind so don't play coy with dumb knock-knock jokes again and just tell me what the hell it is you wanna say."

"Eh fuck you...you take any fun outta this dumbass job...fine. There ain't nothing here. I know it, you know it, the Zeebs know it because they know where the fuck they are and it ain't fuckin' here!"

"Our sentry patrol ends when?"

"13:00 hours, but the sheet should really say, 'after you've proven pretty damn well there's nobody fucking out there'. Let's get back to the Mauler and rack up for the afternoon and let the others take an early start on the route. Ain't a damn thing out here worth you or I's time."

"Just because we aren't constantly under fire like up North doesn't make our time out here useless. Boring? Absolutely, no arguments or doubts at all about that fact. But remember...all it takes is one moment of lost focus for one of them to make a killing blow out here whether its up close and personal or a mile and a half out with windage. Besides, it's a waste of ammo to pop off shots into the aether just to vent some steam...especially when you don't like using suppressors, you loud piece of shit."

It was just more of the same... The push South had started the moment the Kampfwagens were delivered to Camp nearly two weeks before with much applause from everyone able to attend the 'unboxing'. We all knew deep down that we weren't all that important compared to the other Fronts in the eyes of the brass, hence why it came as no surprise that yet again it had taken a few years for the tech to hit our armories. Still, they were tremendously impressive works of mechanical death given life by big birds extremely clever with their talons. And for once, we weren't getting just hand-me-down surplus equipment which was something to celebrate at least.

"Buck..." I sighed, glancing away from my scope to glance at the aerial cam-feed from his helmet. "Do you always have to bitch about shit? Can I go one fucking day without hearing another way life is boring or unfair to you and your fucking 'needs'?"

"Oh reallyyyyy?" He huffed, his field of view pointing towards the mountain I lay prone on. "You've put up with it for years, the fuck you pick today to suddenly bitch back about it?"

"Because...it's just annoying when it's me stuck with you one on one." I groaned, looking back into my scope to recalculate windage and humidity which had not changed once. "At least with the others around they can help kite your bullshit and filter it down so it's more digestible for everyone involved. But when it's just me and you...god you're a whiny bitch sometimes."

"Yeah? Well so is everyone else, so fuck you." He retorted with a laugh. "You gotta at least agree with me that there's been jack nor shit to look at or listen to or fuckin' shoot at in seven hours in this bitchass place. Ain't gonna likely change in the last half hour of our patrol. We can just take our time getting back."

"Thirty minutes? You can't wait thatlong to go back to bed?"

"I promise to stop bitching for today if you agree to do it."

As much as my attempts to keep myself focused and dedicated strictly to the mission worked, I had to admit that deal truly didn't sound so bad. We had shown an exemplary performance in recent weeks and the General had been silent, at least when it came to talking to us directly. He still went on and on in meetings but he never held any of us back afterwards so...things could be a lot worse. Plus...Zecuro had been silent the entire time. Goddamnit...

"Fine..." I groaned in defeat, getting to my hooves and keeping the scope up to my eye in my magic. "Come and pick me up then. We can walk for fifteen then fly in the rest of the way like everything is all honkey-dory."

"Hell yeah! Already on my way down!"

The helmet feed on my HUD dove towards the mountain I stood on at high speeds and I took a moment to check my surroundings for loose objects; crouching a bit in preparation for having my stomach drop like a sick rock. Within a few moments I was suddenly yanked off the ground, held aloft by Buck Beak who quickly attached me to the harness on his torso for a quick flight out of the area. The first time we had practiced this, it was a very unnerving feeling as there was something profoundly primal about the maneuver; truly I could feel for any creature that was unfortunate to become dinner for any kind of bird of prey. After only a week's worth of doing it though, it quickly became just another familiar part of the job. Another unsettling routine to fall into in a growing list too mind-numbing to account for.

"Uh...take it we're gonna take our time getting back by air only?" I asked as we continued to gain altitude instead of descending down to the dunes below.

"What, scared of heights?" He chuckled, giving his wings a wobble which caused my stomach to lurch in a very uncomfortable way.

"H-hey, fuck you..." I groaned with as much of a growl as I could add in. "Y-you have wings, I don't...it's a hard thing to get used to alright? Not like I spend hours a day zipping around the skies with a pair of wings I have full control over. You've got the reins on this one and not for nothin' but that's not a happy concept."

"Yeah, yeah...ya boring ass ground walkin' non-wing having ass pony..."

I didn't even bother to reply with the technicality that Pegusi were ponies too. Not a single one of us was a Pegasus on the Squad so it's not like any of us had something that could equate to actual flying experience. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, Buck had to be number one and that was that; having a Pegasus on the team would probably only make his cocky competitiveness worse. His silence today had been bought at a price after all...

Much as I could gripe about his attitude and M.O, I couldn't deny that he knew how to handle the skies. He wore heavier armor and used bigger guns for a multitude of borderline selfish reasons, but he could still fly at over 50mph in full gear and bring the heat where it mattered. An empty wilderness of desert sands encircled the world below us as we glided a few thousand feet in the air at an easy, lazy pace that kept us free of turbulence. All the while, I dangled from his belly holding my rifle aloft and panning our surroundings in a continuation of what I had been doing anyway the last seven-ish hours. We made for an interesting pair but it wasn't without reason; I was the best Marksmare in the team and he our only guy in the air. Use him to plant me in a good vantage point and that whole immediate area is immediately covered and watched over like a hawk. Being blessed with an Anti-Machine Rifle meant I could engage targets alone that normally would require three or more to comfortably defeat. In an environment as open and desolate as the People's Republic of Kyopsis, I could consider myself one of the deadliest predators in the desert.

It was strange to consider that this barren wasteland was once considered an Empire of it's own at one point; although to be frank, that time was eons before I was even born. The Kingdom of Shifting Sands had lost its Empire thousands of years before during complicated tribal disputes that tore the entire region South of the Badlands apart at the seams. History classes had described how wide their territory was but not even pictures or holovids could help your mind grasp the idea of a desert country the width and 3/4 the length of Equestria. Comparatively, the San-Palomino was perhaps a fifth of the size with twice as much life and variety in it rather then endless sand dunes and a heavy heat that never stopped. How a place this inhospitable managed to claw out a Kingdom let alone an Empire was just a goddamned miracle as far as I could see it. Of course, that was all before the other Empire invaded from the East over twenty years before and steamrolled the whole nation within another two.

News of our presence here was surely already circulating in one way or another throughout the region as it was hard to ignore a massive influx of panicked and wounded troops belonging to your conquerors suddenly rushing in from the North. Hopefully, like the Duchy of Crystal, the native Baladi ponies would welcome us at least warmly for kicking out a hostile force that had claimed their lands from across an ocean for the last twenty-ish years. Of course...that was assuming Equestria had finally had it's fill of annexation and planned to leave it alone with loaned materiel and 'military advisors'. Would be a lot of soldiers to leave behind but hey...beat having to bail them out twice and conquered territory is a good way of easing in fresh blood from the uptick in draft quotas. Good blend of dull patrol work, possible brush of danger with residual resistance cells, charitable work rebuilding homes and the possibility of an unruly civilian population to contend with. Nothing overly dangerous but not too dull either.

"What's your thoughts?" I asked out of the blue without realizing I had given no context for him to form an answer to.

"Onnnn...what?" He snickered, peering down under himself to glance at me. "Got plenty of thoughts on the grill, tell me what kind ya want and how much and I'll stuff ya full."

"Oh shut it..." I laughed, his blatant innuendo at least worth a chuckle. "About what this place is gonna look like in...oh, I dunno...two years from now? How we're gonna treat the people and all that fun shit."

"Uhh...I dunno." He grunted in response. "Never really cared enough to wonder about that sorta thing until just now. Why are you thinking about it though? All the kinky shit you get up to and your armor addiction to think about and you choose that? Borrrrrrring..."

"Well...look, I've never been a part of a liberation force before, alright? I've always been homebound keeping Equestria all safe and sound and the annexations were all way back when I was still a clueless lil' filly. I don't have a lot of experience with foreign cultures and...to be honest when was the last time this place was brought up in recent memory that isn't considered very old news?"

"Seen this shithole on a map a few times...about as much of a fuck as I give about this place." He shrugged, our flight wobbling just a little as he did. "Why? Got big plans for this lovely place?"

"Hardly..." I snorted without hesitation. "I don't like being here any more than you do and the only reason its bearable is thanks to the underbarding. No, I wanna get outta here as fast as possible...but when it comes to how we handle this region, I gotta say I do have some opinions."

"You're gonna talk anyway so I might as well listen..."

"Well...lemme put it simply: we should let the Baladi be as autonomous as possible. No turning around and annexing them into Equestria like we did with Saddle Arabia, just giving them back their lands, some cash and shit to rebuild themselves and maybe a Division from the GA on loan until they get their own army off the ground again. Would go a long way to earning their trust and gain us a huge buffer on the Southern Front. We could send an influx of troops, materiel and funding into the Zulu Campaign and bring us that much closer to ending the War. With them handling further Southern attacks, we could pull most of the SR and DR out and give it to the grunts in the GA to worry about while we go East."

"Hmm...guess I can't argue the sense you're talkin', Athena." He grunted after a minute of thought. "Not gonna lie, I'd love to get posted out there already. It's like the Badlands but always gaining ground, right there where all the action is happening. Move, move, move. Attack, divide and conquer...ain't nothin' like a good War to get Krie excited and...generous to his followers. All of them heh, heh."

"Oh really? So you're now a magical sparkly featherhead all of a sudden? Since when?"

"First off, fuck you and second off...I might've just went up and asked one of the Plague Birds to tell me more, who knows?"

"You didn't..."

"Of course I fucking did!" He laughed proudly, casually barrel-rolling much to my annoyance. "What, just because they're technically Tin Heads doesn't mean they're actually one of them. You know as well as I do they are here on loan from the Konig so what's the fuckin' harm in trying to talk to some real fuckin' Gryphons? Ain't like they can do more than chest beating since we're allies. They just wear the Tin Head armor because how better to enhance big birds then with bigass Power Armor? So again, what's the fuckin' harm in askin' 'em, eh?"

"Well...nothing I guess, I'm just surprised is all." I replied, wondering which of them he had spoken to about the Gryphon Gods. "How...did they respond?"

"Eh, was smart enough to only ask one of 'em while he was coming outta HQ a few weeks ago. Was pretty blunt about what I wanted to know from him and thankfully he was pretty fuckin' honest about shit. Krie is actually his God of choice so I lucked way the fuck out, way more than I probably should have to be honest."

"Oh...? That's...hmm... Who did you talk to then? Was it that Peter guy? He seemed the type to worship a War God. They all do to be honest..."

"Heh, nah it was that big blue one, the Trench Runner with the bigass shotgun." He responded with a hearty laugh, the grin on his face obvious through how excited he seemed.

"Garland?" I asked, immediately knowing I was close with the name but still wrong. "No...that's not it. Fuck...I know it starts with a 'G' at least. Either way, that guy's an ass so it's no wonder you two hit it off so well."

"If you were trying to guess 'Garand' you'd get like a seven outta ten at best..." He groaned, giving us another wobble just to piss me off. "Anyfuckingway, he complimented me for knowing as much as I do for an Equestrian Griffin which is like...hello! The exact kinda shit I've been needing to hear for like...what, ten years now?"

"Really now? You've been balls deep in Greifenländer religion for ten years now?"

"How long do you think I've been into this shit then? Go ahead, gimmie a number. And it better be higher than a couple years."

"Uhh...well...I dunno? Like...five? Five or six years...? I can't honestly remember when you started bringing it up, it's been awhile."

"Oh thank fuck for that much at least, fuckin' hell..." He groaned, reaching down to bonk me on the helmet lightly with his armored knuckles. "Yeah no, ten fuckin' years and proud bitch. I can feel it working, I have for years now...Garand said I might not have enough Gryphon blood in my family to get in touch with their mystical arts but I think I proved him wrong! I know I did!"

"What makes you say that? I haven't noticed anything new about you in particular recently. At least aside from the fact that I kinda resent the fact you're the only wings in this Squad because getting stuck with just you for hours on end gets hella fucking annoying."

"Eh, fuck you." He replied with a snarky snort. "You just ain't used to my personal charms yet, that's all. You'll see, another few months of this and you'll know plenty more about me, don't ya worry."

"Ugh...Gods I hope not..." I groaned in agony, deciding it was better to just stop talking altogether for the sake of my sanity.

He took the hint quick and graciously kept his beak shut for the rest of the flight leaving me in peace. There was jack shit to shoot at in our sector for days now and despite our daily reports, we hadn't received any new orders for almost a week. In a little over two weeks we had bulldozed through Camp Fuck-Off and sent the Empire scampering for their fortifications further South. For reasons nopony ever felt like telling me, after only a week's worth of pushing forwards at a blazing speed, we were suddenly ordered to halt and form a layered defensive perimeter then await further orders. That was the last official news we had gotten and needless to say, we were all dying for something to fucking do other than endlessly patrol the same 20-mile circle day-in and day-out. My internal bitching was cut short however the moment a small speck appeared on the ground out of the haze in the distance ahead of us. Knowing the vicinity was now covered both ground and air, I let my attention drop from my scope and up towards the Bünkerwagen II we now called home standing ever vigilant in the golden sands around us.

She was a thing of mechanical beauty, a large shipping container sized hexagonal tube of angled steel, metal tracks and capped off front and rear with a large 40mm autocannon and an M134 minigun respectively, all painted in our standard desert camo pattern. It could almost be called a bus with tank treads and bigass guns but that would be underselling the complexity involved with the vehicle we had so lovingly named the Mauler. Officially, it was given the brand-new category type called the 'Mechanized Infantry Combat Vehicle' (MICV) or 'Bünkerwagen II' by its Gryphon manufacturers, but no matter which name you picked, it was still a beast. It had more than earned the name we gave it and already had two dozen tallied kill marks on the left side of the main cannon's barrel. That was just accounting for the materiel we destroyed, namely combat robots given we didn't bother counting bodies after the 40-mil started doing some work with the High-Explosive Incendiary rounds. The concussive force of the rounds going off rattled the bones in an immensely pleasing way and it was an admittedly very addictive sensation I wanted more of.

The forward face of the vehicle body featured a heavily slopped frontal plate running at an obtuse angle from the V-shaped underbody. The large main gun was safely nestled in a similarly slanted turret of steel a few feet back from the nose of the vehicle with a .50 HMG acting as its coaxial sub-cannon for Anti-Personnel work. The roof of the main body behind the turret was trapezoidal in shape with a flat, narrow top and slanted sides lined with a set of three roof hatches on either side for six of us to pop out of and add our own guns to the outer defense. At the rear end of the beast was the M134 'Buzz Saw' minigun in a semi-enclosed turret and an angled bay door which lowered to the sand as we approached, having landed some twenty feet away. I could almost taste the cold air coming out of the massive interior as two very friendly faces emerged to warmly greet us outside.

"Well howdy! Good shift, y'all?"

"Oh wonderful! I'll let Hucks know you're back, Athena!"

Soon as she appeared, Penny turned right back around and disappeared back into the shady bowels of the Mauler, meanwhile Captain Onyx walked out into the blazing sun to greet us with a smile. Having him and his team Firesquad Whiskey on hoof for the push South was a boon I was happy to have earned the right to ask for. Courtesy of the Colonel, I had been allowed first pick when the time had come to pair Squads of Steel and Desert Rangers together as had been rumored to be happening soon for months. Given Whiskey's A+ performance during that lone patrol with them, I selected Onyx and his crew to be our pick only to learn a day later to my delight that they had accepted without hesitation. It's easier (and safer) to work with the Tin Heads you know than learn to trust and work with ones you don't.

"I'll speak for both of us on this one." Buck huffed immediately. "Fucking BORING. Not a goddamned thing in eight fuckin' hours. Talk about a fuckin' waste of eight perfectly good hours we could've used to plow South towards Anakha. Least then we could try out some urban combat with this bitch and see how she performs in the streets."

"Yew too huh?" Onyx replied with a sigh, holding out a canteen which Buck took the lead on hogging to himself. "Ah agree wit' ya that we oughta be takin' th' fight tah them but we ain't th' ones callin' th' shots now are we? Ah well, quiet's good though, righ'? Means less chance o' dyin' today n' all tha' fun bullshit. Dunno 'bout y'all but Ah wanna see this here War through alive."

"Heh, join the club! I've got some big plans for the future if I make it outta this shithole alive." I laughed, walking up the armored door ramp and into the relatively roomy interior of this very special machine followed behind by Onyx.

The first thing people might notice upon passing through the bay door is the fact the inside of the Mauler was three-times bigger than what the exterior lead you to believe. As had been explained during the weeklong crash course we had been given, the M.O.A.S had managed to push the limits of the Deep Pocket spell and artificially extend the interiors of enclosed places such as rooms or, in our case, the inside of an MICV. As it turned out, Dark Blaze's experiments with Kampfvagen fuel conversion had not been squandered and sent to the Zulu Campaign preemptively as we had both assumed. Instead, they had both been sent to the Greifenländer for production quality refinements and the standardization of parts and training. Instead of guzzling through natural oil like normal Gryphon vehicles (which was getting scarce), these were the first to run off Crystalline Fusion Cores which opened up options for using clever spellwork that could draw the energy needed to fuel them right from the Core. Spellwork such as making a rather cramped interior be able to fit the five of us, the five from Whiskey and the three Engineers assigned to drive/maintain the damn thing. It was a bit on the cozy side to say the least, but we managed all thanks to the amount of room they had stuffed into the damn thing.

Immediately ahead and above us in the double hatch cargo bay was an attic-style drop ladder in the ceiling which could easily be pulled down anytime someone wanted to manually operate the Buzz Saw turret. The rear bay was still rather small, only large enough to hold four bodies at a time with minimal leg room, however it acted as a buffer between the hatch and the main cabin of the vehicle. Behind another thick steel door was a long narrow hallway punctuated by a set of cage doors on either side before it opened up after several feet revealing the belly of the beast. It was a roughly 14x16' open steel room crammed with Power Armor maintenance bays, stacked bunks, some control stations and a steep, narrow stair towards the front in the center of the aisle leading up to the main turret. Lined up on both sides of the aisle were six Power Armor maintenance frames, three on each side with space between, and a set of bunks nestled in between with enough beds for up to eight of us to rack up for a few hours at a time. Naturally, having that many of us out for the count at once was both against the rules as well as just asking for the Laws of Irony to throw an ambush our way so we slept in rotations of three or four at a time.

The Mauler was truly a second home for most of us even after only a couple weeks spent with it. For once we had received something that was genuinely impressive and bridged the gap between the Corps in a way that let everyone have an important role on board. The brass had gone above their normal habit of sending us what was leftover after the other two Fronts gobbled down their share which usually left us with sub-par equipment and supply shortages of all sorts across the board. We were living the dream in a mobile fortress straight out of something you'd see in concept art for Guns&Ammo or The Daily Bullet showing off what the future of warfare might look like. And in all honesty, it was a future that actually looked bright and promising compared to everything else in the world. Every aspect of the war effort from R&D and manufacturing down to hooves on the ground combat was the only occupation that seemed to actually be getting better as time wore on. Guns got bigger and badder, armor got thicker and more protective and there was actually some decent money to be made seeing how huge the budgets were. Yet another reason I was grateful to be a part of it as otherwise, I would just be one of the many restless, overtaxed civilians worrying about the stock markets, hyperinflation, draft dodging and food shortages while working a boring old job for scraps.

"Athenaaaa!"

The mare of my dreams was as lovely as ever as she called out brightly across the main cabin from where she sat in front of the radar station. The Mauler was amongst the first in a new generation of armored vehicle warfare; technology was starting to creep its way into every aspect of modern combat as the eggheads in the Hexagon and Gryphon Schmiedemeister brainstormed thousands of miles away for our benefit. The machine was loaded down with enough amenities, firepower, armor and electronic equipment to act as a mobile outpost for any combined fireteam like ours and work independently in the field for a few weeks at a time. Roles on the Mauler were flexible and everyone was expected to rotate between different tasks so we could familiarize ourselves with enough functions to operate the thing ourselves in the event one or more of our Engineers was KIA. This also kept things fair since cross-training was becoming the new norm as attrition gnawed away at our populations.

"Hope things were as boring for you here as they were for us out there." I called back, navigating my way down the narrow center aisle around the pieces of a half-stripped-down suit of T-45 held aloft in a maintenance frame by hooks and chains. "For once I'll admit I'd rather be in a chair sitting behind a desk than out in the field."

"Oh really now?" She laughed with a smirk, swiveling her padded chair over to face me as I squeezed around the left side of the steep, narrow stairway leading up into the main turret. "You'd hang your baby up on the wall like a trophy gun and do paperwork the rest of your tour? For shame dear Ranger!"

"Oh shut it..." I sighed, rolling my eyes but unable to keep myself from smiling. "I meant switching spots with you, smartass. You're sitting down in a chair behind a desk exactly as I described so therefore Miss Crisp, I'm still correct and thus shall be declared the victor."

She glanced at the three small terminal screens and small collection of buttons and switches set up in the console beside her and then back up at me before saying, "Uhhh...sure. Guess at a stretch this is a 'desk' but...know what? Nevermind, not even a technicality battle worth fighting on that one. How are ya?"

"Eh, better now that I'm home and finally have a chance to actually sleep instead of fighting it off while camped on a hunk of sandstone." I replied with a tired laugh, sliding into the cramped alcove between her workstation and a built-in tool cabinet for the Power Armor maintenance frame further down from us. "Anything blip on the radar besides us?"

"Not a goddamn thing..." She sighed while rolling her eyes, nodding towards her terminal screens with a bored glance. "Thing has a max range of fifty-miles and I didn't get even a blip on the readout aside from you and Buck. Least you got to be outside and bored...staring at a blank screen while a little bar swings in endless circles is enough to drive me insane."

"Heh, so sending Penny up here to tell you I'm back was kinda unnecessary wasn't it? Ah well, no harm done. Anything else interesting go on around here today?"

"Not really... Crystal and Rain are still en-route from their half of the patrol while Copper, Sprocket and Rivet are on the 40 and Buzz Saw keeping an eye on the area as well so it's been really quiet for the most part. Only real noise has been Onyx working on getting sand out of that cracked servo casing of his from yesterday and Brandy lending a hoof with replacing the part and topping off on the hydraulic fluid. Other than that, Penny and Silver Café have been busy whipping up some lunch since they love to cook so much. Should be ready to eat soon thankfully."

"That and they just like to keep busy doing something more enjoyable than stare at a green screen for eight hours looking for blips that fled South weeks ago."

"Gods don't remind me..." She groaned painfully, glancing at her PipBuck before melting with relief. "Oh thank fuck it's 13:05...we can have lunch together before we rack up! Would you mind snagging Copper for me? It's his turn next on this thing but watch as the one time I turn away from the screen something happens."

"Got ya covered, upstairs right?" I asked, nodding up towards the turret above us.

She nodded back with her usual gorgeous smile and turned her attention back towards her workstation with a friendly little wave of her hoof. After a moment of taking in the sight of my mare, I pushed myself away from the steel wall I had been leaning against and snaked my way around the side of the stairway before making the climb up the treacherously steep pseudo-ladder.

Directly above me was the ass end of the mighty 40x365mm L-70 Buffalo with a curved chute on the back of the breach feeding spent shells down through an MDS Converter and into a bin for reuse later. Climbing higher the cramped interior of the turret came more into view with two seats straddling either side of the cannon; one for the main gunner on the left and the right side for the commander who was stuffed with a radio and a myriad of spotting scopes including a small terminal screen for the digital viewing scopes onboard. From the top of the main cannon came the long aluminum flex-chute which fed the great beast it's potent ammunition from one of three MDS enhanced ammo drums located in the neck of the turret housing. Within a few seconds either the gunner or commander (or a third hoof from the stairs) could switch our death dealing potential from HE-I, API-T or the brand-new Programmable Airburst which let the gunner detonate a shell midflight at a range-verified point.

"I'm telling you, it's not even worth fuckin' trying my dude. You really think mixing you and animals together is a good idea?"

"Absofuckinglutely! I've adored animals of all species since I was a colt damn it! I've earned the right to do whatever the fuck I want with my money after my eight years are up. I've got just six more months until I hit the end of my tenure with this circus show and I haven't spent a single bit from my bank account. I signed up for it right when the Department of the Royal Treasury seriously hiked interest rates which included those attached to savings accounts. 15% over eight years? I'm gonna be comfy, even if hyperinflation hits again."

"Yeahhhh...all I heard was 'blah, blah, blah...Treasury something, money, money, bullshit'. Mind talking about shit that actually matters for once? Like how my main stallion The Boulder fuckin' won the Continental Cup, yeah baby!"

Dressed in armored grey and blue jumpsuit harnesses were Copper Fuse and Sprocket Wrench, two of the three Engineers who had been assigned to crew the Mauler. Copper, as orange and shiny as his namesake, was the Chief Engineer onboard and sat with his eyes glued to the rubber eye pieces of the binocs, his hoof on a joystick on the console to his right. On a technicality he ranked equal to myself according to the Engineer's unorthodox system of ranks but he graciously knew when to lean into Onyx or I's opinions and orders. Crammed into the gunner's chair was Sprocket Wrench, a nineteen year-old douchebag barely out of his 'green' phase getting adjusted to life in a warzone. He was the youngest onboard and likewise the most inexperienced having only been assigned to our unit because his mother was the personal secretary of General Olive's attaché who pulled some strings for his sorry ass. All things considered, none of us particularly liked him or his abundance of hot air. In no way was it due to his smarts he had passed his exams and earned his competence certification to be promoted from Apprentice to Engineer Grade-1. But, as what usually happened with Untouchables who were nepotized into the system, we just had to put up with his bullshit and keep him from getting killed. Either by us or the enemy.

"Common, Copper...did you go and exchange your balls for a juicy snatch or something?! The fuck is the matter with you? Fuckin' working with animals and shit..."

"Alright, just spill it Sprocket...the fuck you have against animals? Every time I try talking about them you've always got some whiny story about how you don't get pet owners and hate them even. Your daddy never get you a puppy you wanted as a colt or something?"

"Pffft, you fuckin' joking? Fuck that shit, I wanted a Red Rocket scooter and a signed jersey from Stone 'The Boulder' Cleats of the Manehatten Manglers like a real fucking colt!"

"You do know that douchebag has been caught out popping Buck and steroids right?"

"Hey, fuck you! Every jockey fuckin does 'em too and they don't get bitched at! My dude's fuckin' innocent and so's Solar Rumble! Gooooooo Manglers!!"

At this point I had had enough of his bullshit and hoisted myself up growling, "Oh shut the FUCK up, Sprocket! Nopony gives a fuck about your goddamn hoofball team out here!"

My sudden interjection seemed to catch him so off-guard he actually yelped in panic and let off a rapid-fire burst from both the 40-mil and its M2 coaxial. As the booms echoed into silence and the spent casings vanished into the brass collector, the silent fury emanating from Copper and myself was potent and palpable.

"Hold. Your. Goddamn. Fire." I hissed, emphasizing every word to make sure it got through his tungsten carbide skull. "Waste of ammo, waste of auditory cover and a waste of a fucking Engineer's certificate. Copper, its past 1300 hours, time to switch with Hucks."

He nodded toward me gratefully with visible relief as he scampered off his chair and squeezed between the back of the cannon and the rear of the turret hull. Sprocket meanwhile sat there in silent horror unmoving after my verbal abuse and I slid down the rest of the way before he had time to start cussing me out and threatening to tell his mom about how horribly we treated him. An empty threat but an annoyance on the ears all the same.

As I scooted out of the way to let Copper step off the ladder behind me, he said, "Thank fucking Celestia you're a lifesaver..."

"How long this time?" I asked in reply knowing they regularly bandied words.

"Try two minutes into the fucking shift..." He groaned with a pained wince. "Non stop for four fucking hours... I'm the first to admit I am a total nerd but oh my gods do nerds have nothing on fucking hoofball fanatics. If I ever have to hear how 'Skinny Bones' is better at the 360-double-half-cross-toss technique than 'my boy The Jet' I swear..."

I nodded in full agreement and understanding. Sprocket had little personality to offer any of us on board and even Buck Beak, our Asshole-in-Chief, wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot pointy stick. None of us had had time to care about something as boring as sports in years and even then, you needed a civilian radio just to access the stations that broadcast coverage of any sports games happening up North.

"Don't worry, I'm right there with ya. Happy to rescue you from that mess at all costs. Honestly wish we could just leave him alone up there to double duty the turret but considering that is a horrible idea..."

"Yeahhh..." He agreed, sighing in frustration as he smacked his hoof off the side of the ladder. "Dumbass would probably start taking pot-shots at vultures again... Well, thanks again for rescuing me from that hellhole up there. I know you just came back from patrol but uh..."

"It's fine, gotta take my shit off so I'm on my hooves until then anyway. Who's swapping out with ya?"

He brought the PipBuck 2500 built into the left foreleg of his jumpsuit up to his face and changed the functions to his notes before mumbling, "Uhhh, looks like Rivet? Damn, thought it was Brandy... Guess they flipped a coin on it again. Don't envy him...having to go from a nice quiet solitary turret to getting cramped with Mr. Jack Ass."

"Ah, so he's on the Buzz Saw. Alright, I'll go snag him then. Actually makes it easier on me anyway since I have to drop my shit off in the armory before I eat and rack up for awhile."

"Lucky, heh. I'm still four hours away from the end of my duty shift. These half-shifts are nice and all but damn, it tends to make shit drag on sometimes. Especially cramped with that chain-smoking idiot."

"Yeah, but at least you'll be working by yourself for this half." Huckleberry chimed in from where she was sitting to our left. "Aside from Onyx bitching at his PoA chassis and its hydraulics system, its pretty quiet and I've been here for eight hours. Shame we only have that one radio right now, otherwise this, comms or the driver's compartment would be the best alternative spot to put it. Could barely tell 'Lunch with Crispy Crunch' was even on over you two bitching at each other up there...basically missed the whole broadcast damnit."

Copper deflated a little and scowled with a mixture of annoyance and exhaustion. We were all suffering in some way or another thanks to Sprocket's insufferable nature as a walking, talking pile of immature horseshit.

"Sorryyyyyy...you know how much he gets under the skin when he wants to..." He sighed, snaking between us to take up the now empty radio operator's chair. "I promise as soon as I have the time I'll cannibalize some spare parts and make a second one. Maybe more if I can find and we can spare the bits and baubles I'm gonna need. Won't be anything pretty from Radiation Queen but it'll patch into our long-range antenna just as well as one of their products."

The radio in question was a portable pocket radio Brandy had been gifted by her grandfather; a relic from the Great Northern War in which he had participated in in the mid-to-late 2030s. Seeing as our departure from the Badlands was as expedited as possible, none of us had thought ahead and obtained radios of our own. Of course, on the other hoof it wasn't like any of us had actually worked with Kampfvagens before. We hadn't exactly pictured spending a week-plus sitting around with our hooves up our asses waiting for orders to continue the push South. Boredom plus twelve ponies (and one Griffin) multiplied by isolation, cramped quarters and a lack of purpose was a recipe for rule-breaking in order to solve the problem. A mixture of (mostly) meshing personalities, a rotating schedule and a more laid-back atmosphere amongst (almost) everyone aboard had made the stagnation bearable but it couldn't last for much longer. We were going to need a resupply in twelve days and a body bag for one in two, maybe three at best.

Thanks to Copper and some help from Rivet Springs, his lieutenant and the only other sane Engineer aboard, the radio had been spliced into the wiring hooked to the Mauler's long-range transmitter. This allowed us to piggyback on the antenna's incredible range and catch broadcasts from the home country that our normal military-issued radios just weren't allowed to tune to for 'reasons'. It was permitted to have 'civie' radios as long as they didn't cause some kind of a complaint with the nearest CO but just like they couldn't tune into all but a few military frequencies, so ours could not tune into any non-military channels save for the National Weather Forecast Channel. Although the only frequency we could get clear as day South of the border was a godawful country station located in Appleloosa, we could get patchy and scratchy signals from rock, jazz, classical and even some EDM stations. All that to say, turret duty was never seen as a bad thing unless Sprocket was also assigned that task. At that point the only options are to turn the volume up to drown him out or turn it down so you can argue better.

"Well, long as it can still tune into 98.9 'Legends of Rock' I'll be happy. Alright, lemme go snag Rivet for ya. Hucks? See ya at the table!" I laughed tiredly, nodding to both of them before turning around and making my way back towards the cargo hatch.

The main cabin of the Mauler had an eight-foot ceiling which allowed the Gryphons (and assumedly M.O.W and/or M.O.A.S engineers) to make the most out of the incredible amount of space they had managed to cram into something 2/3 its size. Onyx and Brandy, clad in the SR branded grey Kevyarn bodysuits worn under Power Armor, were hard at work on either side of Bay-3 to my right as I passed; both were so engrossed with pumping new fluid into the hydraulic system they didn't notice as I passed by. While each bay was perpendicular to the hull, the sets of triple bunks that were spaced between them lay flush with the wall allowing for the limited space between them, the central aisle and each maintenance bay to be used for tool carts and large, loose pieces of Power Armor. The roof hatches which we could use to pop out and lend a hoof in close-quarters defense were located just above each top bunk at such a height that any of us could sit or kneel comfortably using the bed as a seat. With the bunks hugging the length of the wall, there was plenty of room to change firing position easily without risk of falling off backwards onto the rubber floor.

The narrow corridor separating the cargo bay from the main cabin was actually formed from the walls of two small armories they had managed to squeeze in as well. They were as plain as could be, a pair of small 7x8' rooms no bigger than an average walk-in closet stacked floor-to-ceiling with weapon racks, ammo dispensers and lockers for Alpha Squad's Mrk. IV armor and Ranger Dusters; three a piece per armory to allow for more space per locker. I entered through the caged security door on my right and smiled to myself as I saw the polished barrels of various spare rifles as well as Penny's personal combat shotgun and Huck's M-RAD sitting on racks against the wall. To be surrounded by guns and knowing two other sets of Mrk. IV were right beside me filled me with a giddy glee I could never quite describe but thoroughly enjoyed all the same. A well-stocked armory was an orgasmic-level sensory experience for me that I still had a low tolerance for making for a powerful mood booster that rarely didn't hit the spot.

I peeled my armor off quickly in order to try and least act like I wasn't keeping Copper (or Hucks) waiting and thanked ArmsTech for the magnetic attachments employed in their later Ranger-series designs. With the bulk of the armor laced with microfilament crystal, this allowed for small electromagnets to be installed at key points across my duster, underbarding and the armor itself; magnets that could be deactivated on a whim just like anything interfaced with with PipBuck OS. There were soft thuds as the alloyed steel of my bracers, rebraces, greaves and cuisse fell away from my legs and onto the rubber-padded floor. At the same time, I lifted off the mantle of spaulders from off my shoulders with my magic before tugging off my coat and hanging it on the steel hook inside my locker followed by the rest of my armor as it too fell away. Each locker door came with a mirror installed on the inside and I could not help myself but admire how...sexy I felt dressed in my armor. It accentuated my curves without calling myself out and it imbued me with such a feeling of empowerment that I could understand an inkling as to how Steel Rangers must feel in their T-45s, and now, T-51s. As I liked to coyly tell Hucks, I was most comfortable when impervious to most forms of conventional damage.

Left in my armored underbarding (which now sported the silver leaves of my rank), I put my helmet in the cubby above the coat hanger and checked to make sure everything was off the floor and put away. After putting my weapons in their labeled spots on the wall and tossing my bandoliers on the ammo bench to refill later, I left Armory-A and hooked a right towards the cargo bay hatch. It hissed open horizontally accompanied by a wave of hot air as I realized Buck Beak was still outside and had left the cargo bay doors open while he yammered away with Rain Dancer and Crystal Decanter who had returned from their patrol finally. I didn't bother trying to make myself known and be dragged into the conversation but instead focused on pulling the lever that would deploy the ladder up to the Buzz Saw. Unlike Sprocket, there was no yelp of fear let alone a burst from the minigun like a dumbass. Instead, as I peered up the ladder I watched as the ball turret rotated back to neutral position lining up the exit hatch to the turret neck and a dark grey stallion's head peered down at me.

"Oh, Crete!" He laughed with relief. "Was wondering when someone would come and get me for shift change... Copper get stuck fiddling with the fire-control group on the L-70 again?"

"Nope, got stuck with the Nepo..." I sighed using our nickname for Sprocket which was short for Nepotism. "Got into another argument about hoofball and animal shelters. Well, that and I had to shed some gear in the armory but yeah. He wasn't keeping you waiting for the fuck of it."

Engineer Grade-3 Rivet Springs was a fine addition to our odd mismatched team. Being charcoal grey as he was, the grey Engineer's jumpsuit complimented his colors well and helped make his steel-gray eyes stand out more. The only thing more noticeable than his decently handsome looks being the silver locket attached to his dogtag chain with a picture of his beloved Daisy Popcorn inside. He was a good Engineer who hailed from Applewood but of his own admission stated he had hit the limit of his abilities and just couldn't pass the criteria needed to promote from Grade-3 to Specialist. Too much love for too many branches of the subject in order to just pick one to focus on and begin a full mastery of. All that said though, he had won me over the moment he asked to test fire my AMR and his reaction was truly priceless. He was almost as blown away by shock and awe as the empty crate he shot was by high explosives and shrapnel. That was exactly how anyone should respond to such a majestic weapon of middling destruction. With the push of a button the turret was surrendered to the Stable-Tech targeting computer to comb the skies while we went back to grab whoever's turn it was to switch him spots.

"Jeez, again??" He groaned, flipping backwards out of the turret chair and grabbing onto the ladder as the thing was designed to be entered near-vertically with the help of handles and straps. "Fucking hell that sonovabitch is just asking to wind up as a case of friendly fire one of these days..."

"Mhm..." I sighed in agreement, nodding towards the front of the Mauler. "Normally I'd be glad such an airhead wasn't a member of my Squad but in this case I still have to put up with his bullshit just as much as you two do..."

"That's the difference though..." He snorted following closely behind as we slowly made our way back to the main cabin with the cargo hatch hissing closed behind us. "Only reason a fuckwit like him became an Engineer over a Ranger or a GI is because there's a lot of cracks for weasels like him to snake their way through with no official oversight and a blind need for anyone with even a vaguely technical or mechanical sounding name. Honestly...I'm starting to be convinced that fucker faked his name and cutie mark...there's just no way this guy has any sort of special talent for anything even close to the field of engineering. Shotgunning a beer or world's biggest punk ass maybe but not a damned thing to do with anything that requires more than a hooffull of brain cells and a sports jersey."

"Heh, now wouldn't that be something!" I laughed, stopping to toss the steel cap of a joint-servo across to Onyx as Brandy quietly edged past us headed for the gun leaving him alone to finish off the repairs to his armor.

"Eh, were we so lucky..." He groaned back at me while stepping around to the right side of the main turret's neck so I could be free to use the left and squeeze around Copper who looked back at us rolling his eyes. "Yeah...I heard about your stint with him... What? Is there something more this time?"

"Yep..." Copper almost whimpered sympathetically pointing to his PipBuck. "It's Manehatten Manglers versus the Bostang Buccaneers today and the broadcast starts any minute now..."

Rivet stiffened at this, his eye twitching.

"Wonderful..." He breathed slowly, glancing up into the turret with trepidation. "Well then...thank fuck I'm in the commander's chair for this entire shif-"

"Annnnnnd coming at you live from the Bostang Thunder Dome, it's Equestrian Sports National Radio! I'm joined here today by our special guest commentator, Half Court, point guard of the Trottingham Trailblazers! How are you doin' today, Half? Isn't it just a beautiful day for a game of hoofball? Absolutely perfect weather as we witness this! The single most important battle of this year's war for the ultimate title of Grand National Champion!"

The broadcast was turned up so loud that it echoed through the main cabin as tone deaf about the state of the world as the numb nuts that was listening to it. Every fiber of my being wished to spring up those stairs and rip that damn thing out of the command console but he wasn't my soldier to discipline and all that would accomplish would be more radios for Copper and Rivet to jury-rig together from scrap. That and Brandy would be furious if any harm came to her grandfather's deathbed gift to her.

"SPROCKET!" Rivet roared, leaping onto the stair-ladder and scurrying upwards hungry for blood. "GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE COMMAND CHAIR AND SHUT THAT SHIT THE FUCK OFF!"

I rolled my eyes and gave Copper a grimace as I passed him by and made my way around the turret body to the neck of the beast. The space between the turret and the hatch leading to the drivers' compartment was scarcely as long as the armories but was thankfully as wide as both combined. This allowed for the installation of some simple counters and a few cabinets along the sides for meal prep and a small round table in the center that could fit four of us comfortably, six in a pinch. Sitting at said table was Hucks, Penny and Silver Café, the Manehattenite who acted as the communications specialist for Firesquad Whiskey. While the two of them had already started digging into the plastic bowls of vegetable stew fresh from the stack of torn open MRE wrappings laying on the narrow counter to my left, Hucks sat patiently waiting with her bowl and mine so we could eat together. The steaming bowl, along with a dense brick of multigrain wheat bread and fake butter, were slid across the table to me the moment I sat across from her and got to enjoy yet another one of her wonderful smiles for a moment. That was of course before I began to scarf it all down like a complete slob.

It had been hard to be as intimate as we wanted to be given the circumstances. Back in the Badlands things were tricky for sure but we had the benefit of the rest of Alpha covering for us and the relative privacy of an assigned tent to work with. Here...there were thirteen of us all living in a mechanized death tube and having a quickie out in the desert didn't sound all that arousing to either of us. Sand was a real mood-killer, and the temperatures here were somehow even hotter than the Badlands making something as physically intensive as sex nigh-on impossible. All things considered though, we were managing well enough for what we were being asked to put up with. We had plenty of experience keeping our relationship looking like a pair of really close gal-pals who worked well together so the only thing that really changed was just how often we had to keep the mask on day in and day out. Little moments like these or our banter by the radar earlier were our lifeblood during these cramped times and we made the most out of them as covertly as possible. It was a far cry from what both of us wanted (or needed more like...), but it was the best we could salvage from the situation and it beat the shit out of having to work independently from each other. Of course...as I had said before, idleness was the perfect breeding ground for thoughts of rule breaking. Some days it was a monumental strain to keep from ravishing her and letting some of my pent-up frustration out. Hell...I was getting to the point that I was starting to wonder how many people onboard I was actually unopposed to going down on...

"Hellooooo? Terra Firma to Athena! Come in, Athena."

"Huh?" I grunted, suddenly coming to the realization that my mind had started to wander way too much. "Sorry...got lost in thought for a second there."

"Heh, I can tell." Silver snickered, her sapphire blue eyes sparkling with amusement as she batted her long, curly golden bob-cut mane out of her gorgeously white face. "You's always diggin yaself deep into ya thoughts...what this time eh? ArmsTech's 2077 company catalogue?"

"Ha..." I snorted with a smirk. "Believe me, I wish... No, just thinking about the L-70 and wishing we could go back to Camp Fuck-Off so I can observe the ballistic damage it caused."

"See! See!" She giggled with glee, pointing a hoof at me while staring at Penny. "Told ya she was a fuckin' nerd! Goddamnit girl you think too much about ya fuckin' penetration stats n' shit...go get yerself penetrated 'er somethin'...jeez..."

I didn't even have to look at Hucks to know she glanced directly at me when she said that as I replied, "Yeahhhh...tell me about it, heh. Been ages..."

"Ain't that the fuckin' truth..." Silver sighed while dropping her volume, taking a deep drink of her powdered juice mix. "Ain't had a cock inside me in over a fuckin' year and lemme tell ya...ain't that an itch I'd loved scratched soon..."

"Heh, don't have to go far if you're looking for some dick." Penny giggled quietly, nodding over towards Copper who was the closest male we could see but thankfully couldn't hear us. "Rain and Buck are so pent up I heard they both jerked off together on their last patrol."

"Wait, seriously??" I asked incredulously. "Like...?"

"Nothin' gay if that's what you're askin'." Penny snickered. "Best I can tell they just kinda sat on either side of a big rock where they couldn't see each other and wanked one out real quick before going back to business as usual. So like I said heh, heh... If you're looking for some dick, there's more than one to choose from here. Gods know they're desperate..."

"Oh they'd like that shit wouldn't they?" Silver replied with a sarcastic laugh although the look in her eye indicated there was some real thought going on here on the idea. "Eh...yeah, guess you's right on that. Still though...it'd have to be one of you guy's guys; Onyx is a good stallion but sleepin' with ya CO ain't exactly a risk I wanna take, ya know?"

"Wait, you're seriously considering it?" Hucks and I both asked, happy the conversation was in Silver's court so she and I didn't have to ping-pong around any potential slips of the tongue.

"I mean...yeah." She replied with a wink. "Fuck it. It's been awhile, I'm stir crazy as all fuck and I know I won't have a hard time gettin' what I want. Could ask for worse and I've done worse, lemme tell yous."

"Well...in that case, I recommend going for Rain Dancer over Buck Beak." I replied in full honesty. If she was gonna fuck one of the two guys on my team, she might as well avoid the wild card. "Rain isn't a super rough guy and seems like the type to listen to and respect boundaries which isn't exactly something you find a lot these days in soldier boys. Buck...not like I've fucked the guy but you don't need to be under him to know he's the kind to pound away without any mercy and make an oopsie into the wrong hole... Unless you're into that sorta thing then by all means, go right up and ask him. Sure he'd love to stuff ya like a pastry."

She nodded in agreement and responded, "Yeah...he's a Griffin too so gods knows how big the knot is..."

Oh she just had to go and mention the knot didn't she? Up until now I had been able to keep a straight-enough face and prevent anything dripping down South but the moment she brought that up it was a losing battle for me. Griffin dick was something I just couldn't help but admit turned me on... Wonderfully pointy tips that slide their way in so easily and fill every inch of me so deliciously I could melt in the knees and just relinquish control as that lovely beak nuzzles up against my cheek and those sharp eyes make me such willing prey... Knots came in a variety of sizes just like the birds packing them which...made me wonder about Gryphons. Did Peter have a good looking bird cock? ...Did Garand...?

"Damnnn...look at her! Someone's into fucking birds, eh?"

I had let my mind wander. Like a fucking idiot I had gone and done the one thing I had tried not to do... Thank fuck it had something to do with the appeal of the male gender since it was perfectly legal to be a slut as long as the sex was as straight as the dick you were riding. Hell it was encouraged even at the national level since there was another slump in the birth rate and sexually active mares were all potential breeders. There was even a joke making the rounds that there was an award in the works for the most fertile pussy in the country on par with the Amulet of Heroes award for valor in the field of battle.

I sighed in defeat and nodded, "Yep. Not even gonna try to deny that one. I love a good romp with a bird and I ain't afraid to say it. Well...at least when Buck Beak's not around. I can just tell it'd end up being a lot more fun for him than it would be for me."

Silver opened her mouth to respond when an excited call rang out across the cabin from Rain Dancer who had taken up residence at the comms station opposite to the radar station on the other side of the turret neck. The radio had been so dead all week we had started to be a little bit lax with keeping it occupied during the day. Question now was...what now?

"GUYS! GUYS! We just got a message from Command! We're finally gonna be making a fucking push for Anakha!"

Next Chapter: Chapter Thirty-Nine: Raven in the Mountains Estimated time remaining: 7 Hours, 53 Minutes