The next day was better.

Red Field awoke at sunrise and stretched out. The thought of the dead dog in the grave had grown a bit foggier. He picked up his DMR, which sat under his bed and began to check it.

“Hey.” Chesterfield sat at the table in the center of the room. “You know we’re taking a break today?”

“Oh, shit, that’s right.” Red Field set the rifle back under his bed. He could sleep in. How long had it been since he’d slept in? Red Field glanced back at Chesterfield. “What are you doing up?”

“I get up at this time for prayer.” Red Field felt strangely embarrassed knowing Chesterfield was awake to pray. However he was too sleepy to care. He laid back down and fell asleep.

He slept for several more hours. Red Field was awakened by a pounding on the front door of the building. Pulling his head off of the pillow was difficult and Red Field tried to ignore the banging coming from the floor under him. Blackout was the first to speak as he rolled over in his cot and groaned. His mane was mussed and he looked like he was coming out of a coma.

“What the fucking hell?” He asked. Chesterfield lay on his back in his cot, scribbling into a notebook he held over his head. Locked Breech, who looked presentable, rose from his bed where he’d been reading.

“I got it.” He said, walking for the door. “I’m pretty sure I know who it is anyway.” He looked around. “Wildcat?” Wildcat was still asleep on his cot. “Whenever Cat wakes up, tell him to cook the most edible thing we packed. Let’s make today worth it.”

“Roger that.” Blackout said. Red Field looked back at Full Wing’s cot, which sat in the very corner of the room. Full Wing still lay beneath his blanket. Red Field was glad Full Wing was asleep. Red Field wanted him to rest for as long as possible.

“Ugh, I’m awake you cocksucker.” Wildcat shoved Blackout’s hoof away as Blackout gave him a shake.

“Hey princess, captain wants you to make us pancakes with O.J.” Said Chesterfield.

“Fuck you.” Wildcat looked as sleepy as Blackout. “Where is he anyway?” He asked, looking around.

The door to the barracks opened beneath them.

“Ah, Captain Breech.” Fo’s false geniality showed he was still upset about the day before. “Good to see you!”

“Oh Christ.” Said Blackout. “Not him.”

“Captain Fo.” Locked Breech said.

“Any operations you’re planning today?” Fo asked. “I wanted to catch you before you left for the day.”

“No, my team and I are off duty for the day.”

“If that motherfucker says anything about another patrol with them I’m going to fucking neuter him.” Blackout muttered.

“Oh I see! Well then I trust you’ll be free to join my team and me for an extended patrol through the villages?”

“No, we will not be. We are off duty in all capacities.”

“Ahaha, I suppose that would mean that, wouldn’t it?” Fo said. “Is this a personal decision or orders?”

“Not your concern. We’ll be here all day. Tomorrow we will resume normal duties. Is that all?”

“Shut ‘em down Breech.” Chesterfield had put away his notebook and sat on the edge of his cot.

“Well, since there are a couple of would-be robbers on the loose around here, we ought to ask if any of the villages around the mountain have been having problems with break-ins.” Said Fo.

“Captain Fo, I am going to say again that my team and I are not on duty today. We will be at base all day today. We are not conducting any joint operations.”

“Well, if you change your mind, we will be ready to go on an extended patrol.” Fo said shortly.

“Understood, goodbye captain.” Locked Breech said, and the door clanked closed.

Fo’s crunching footsteps faded away.

“Fuck yeah.” Blackout said.

“That guy is not professional.” Said Chesterfield.

“Oh of course he’s not professional.” Blackout said. “He’s a thirtysomething divorcee who is looking for a way to feel young again. I bet he’s a beta-male or whatever they’re called.”

“That was a fast summation.” Said Red Field.

“Blackout’s the best at profiling people.” Said Wildcat. “Bet you any amount of money at least part of that was true.” He walked over to the stack of rations and began to dig through them. “All right, let’s see what we have to eat.”

Locked Breech reentered as Wildcat gathered the ingredients for their meal.

“Do you have to say that shit while I’m talking to him?” He asked. “I’m trying to get him to piss off and then you guys start whispering like schoolfillies.”

“Wait, you heard us?” Blackout said, then began to laugh.

“All of it.” Said Locked Breech. Wildcat and Chesterfield began to laugh. “Oh yeah, really funny. You know he’s pissed at us, you should have seen what he looked like when Blackout said he was going to neuter him.” Locked Breech broke into a smile. “If they were of any rank in their army I’d probably make you go on that patrol just out of spite.” He gave Wildcat a gentle kick. “What’s for breakfast?”

“We have some powdered eggs.” Locked Breech kicked him again. “Agh, I mean, I could fry some hay.” Another kick.
“Goddamn I'm not a miracle worker.” Said Wildcat. The medic picked up a box of oats. “I think I still have some of that whiskey we got from Midlothian’s retirement party. I could make some sloshed oatmeal.” Blackout cheered and Locked Breech gave an approving nod.

“Did somepony say we’re drinking?” Everypony looked back to Full Wing.

“Damn kid, you look out of it.” Said Wildcat. Full Wing’s mane was flattened on one side and his tail was bushy. His eyes were baggy and swollen.

“Yeah, I slept weird.” He said. “Anyway, you said we’re having liquor?”

“Well, we’re not supposed to drink on duty.” Said Wildcat. “But since this is a day off, we should be good as long as you don’t tell mom.”

“Yeah, or Chess for that matter.” Blackout said.

“Make something for Chess too.” Said Locked Breech, sitting back down on his bed.

“Only since we’re on vacation.” Said Wildcat.

The morning went well. Recon joked and Full Wing told them of his first time getting drunk in Las Pegasus. Chesterfield grinned and shook his head, while Blackout gave Full Wing's story the attention of a mission briefing.

Red Field watched Full Wing to see how he’d absorbed the sight of the murder. At first Red Field thought Full Wing was in denial; but as Full Wing began to joke and overuse “dude”, Red Field realized Full Wing was all right. Somehow, Full Wing could bounce back from anything. Red Field wasn’t sure what made him so resilient, but he was glad nonetheless.

The oatmeal was terrible, however, after Wildcat poured a generous serving of hundred and fifty proof whiskey over it, nopony really cared how it tasted. Red Field noticed Chesterfield wasn’t imbibing on the alcoholic breakfast and instead ate from a small plate of hay.

“Now Chesterfield’s a different animal altogether.” Said Blackout, scooping more of the oatmeal from his bowl. “He feels the need to remind God of his piety by not drinking booze. Hey, Chess, if you were a dog, you wouldn’t eat meat would you?”

“Nothing in my beliefs says anything about alcohol.” Said Chesterfield. “I just don’t drink out of principle. And my God doesn’t say anything about meat either.”

“Do you fuck?” Asked Full Wing, who grew more brazen with even a taste of alcohol.

“Nawp.” Said Blackout. “Notta once. Drunk Chesterfield would be something to see.”

“You know, I probably don’t drink because I’m afraid I’ll turn into you.” Said Chesterfield with a small smile.

“Yeah? You gonna tell me what’s wrong with that?” Blackout had a smear of oatmeal on his cheek and the rest of Recon started to laugh. “What the fuck is so funny?”

“Got shit on your face.” Wildcat sat next to him and he wiped off Blackout’s face.

“Whoa now!” Blackout swiped Wildcat’s hoof away. “Why don’t you just shove your dick in my mouth?”

“Good Lord.” Locked Breech set down his bowl. “For a pony who seems deathly afraid of gays, you sure see a lot of homoerotic signs in things. I’m thinking that means maybe there’s some self-hatred going on. I brought along our book on reconciliation if you want to talk through it.”

“Oh God, what were you doing with Red when you said you were going to ‘check out the furnace’?” Asked Wildcat. Even Chesterfield laughed a little at this. “Red,” Wildcat said, “did he touch you in any way?”

“Oh go to hell.” Said Blackout.

“I bet checking out the furnace is slang for fucking him in the ass.” Full Wing said.

Red Field’s face burned and the conversation halted.

“Well then, subtlety isn’t your thing is it?” Said Locked Breech in amusement. “Although I suppose the danger is there and I really should talk to Red Field about sexual harassment within the workspace.”

“Oh for Christ's sake.” Blackout said. “It was more like getting fucked in the ear with the stupid shit he says.” He looked at Red Field. “You want to tell us what your plan was for fixing the A.C.?” Red Field opened his mouth. “Build a fuckin’ air compressor, as the first step.” He laughed. “Jesus, what did you say your plan was for that again?”

“Use the heater from one of the ration containers to heat air inside a hose running into the fuel line.” Red Field said so swiftly he surprised himself.

“Would, that work?” Said Chesterfield, squinting in thought.

“We’d have to find a hose.” Red Field said. “One that is strong enough.”

“Yeah, well, we aren’t doing anything until I wake up.” Blackout said, tossing his bowl to the floor. He rolled over in his bed. “You can talk or whatever, but I’m going to be sleeping.”

“Gonna dream about running your hose into Red’s fuel line?” Asked Full Wing, prompting all but Red Field and Blackout to laugh again.

“That one was better.” Said Locked Breech. “Keep it up.”

Thankfully, Blackout soon fell into a deep slumber and nopony cared to test the air compressor theory. Chesterfield and Wildcat began to play cards, inviting Red Field and Full Wing to join them after a few minutes. Locked Breech studied the map for about an hour before he too joined the game.

They opened the window and a cool mountain breeze filled the room and refreshed the stale concrete air. For two hours they played and talked and Red Field forgot about the dogs and Mohs and even his spat with Blackout.

“Breech.” Wildcat tossed a card at Locked Breech. “Door.” The ponies halted their game and listened. The soft clank of the door rose through the floor.

“Of course.” Locked Breech said, tossing his cards down.

“What is their fucking problem?” Asked Wildcat as Locked Breech again left to answer the door.

“They’re not used to getting a no from anyone.” Said Chesterfield. "Dunno what they're going to do about it now."

Locked Breech opened the door beneath them.

“Captain Breech.” Said Natick. “Sorry to bother you. Captain Fo is preparing the Gmales for an extended patrol and would like your support.”

“We are not on duty.” Said Locked Breech. “I would also appreciate it if he did not solicit our assistance any more today.”

“I’m sorry.” Natick sounded uncomfortable. “I am aware of that, he sent me over here to see if you could spare just one or two ponies.”

“No.”

“I’m apologize for this Captain Breech. Captain Fo is not particularly adept at understanding declinations.” Natick said.

“So I’ve seen.”

“Heh, I think you’re the first person he hasn’t bullied into submission.” Natick cleared his throat. “I’d like to thank you personally for your assistance yesterday. Your protection and intervention was very much appreciated. I’d also like to apologize for the ingratitude and asinine behavior of my commander; he’s a good officer of the law, just not particularly well suited to mediating problems.”

“That’s all right, you are welcome.” Locked Breech said, his tone relaxing.

“I’ll tell him you are not available, sorry to bother you.” Said Natick. “Thank you again.”

“Show of hooves who thinks that guy would be a better commander than Fo?” Wildcat asked as Natick’s footsteps faded.

All four players raised their hooves.

“Bet he loves having Fo call the shots during all of their negotiations.” Red Field said. Locked Breech returned and they resumed their game.

Five minutes later, a dog knocked at the barracks. Locked Breech threw down his cards.

“Unbelievable.” He said under his breath. Locked Breech cracked his neck as he exited their room.

“Dude, what the hell is their problem?” Asked Full Wing.

“It’s not their problem, it’s just Fo I bet.” Said Chesterfield.

The door under them swung open.

“Sorry.” Natick said. “Captain Fo-”

“Bring him here.” Said Locked Breech. “Let me speak with him. This is not appropriate behavior.”

“I’m very sorry.” Natick said. “I’ll tell him you’re not coming.”

“Bring him here, we need to resolve this.”

“I will speak to him.” Natick said. “I can tell him you declined again. I’ll make sure this is the last time we bother you.”

“No, I need to speak with him.”

“Captain Breech, Fo does not react well to confrontation.” Natick said. “I’ll let him know.”

“Soldier, your C.O. is fifty meters that way. I’m not going to negotiate with anymore proxies. Go get him.” Locked Breech said, his voice rising.

“All right, I’ll get him.” Natick said quietly. Red Field watched from the window as Natick walked back toward the Gmales’ barracks. Natick said something to himself and shook his head.

“Nopony say anything when he gets here. That’s an order.” Locked Breech called up to them.

“Yes sir.” Said Wildcat.

“This is about to get real.” Said Full Wing softly.

“No it’s not. Fo’s too scared of Breech.” Chesterfield said. They heard barking and Red Field recognized Fo’s voice.

“Oh shit.” Whispered Full Wing. All four huddled around the window and peeked out. Fo strode toward them with Natick close behind.

Fo did not look like he was afraid of Locked Breech.

“Cat… get ready to move. I don’t like how this looks.” Said Chesterfield, starting to rise.

A gunshot cracked into the compound. Natick stumbled and grabbed at his right shoulder. He knocked into Fo, who had jumped from the report. The pair tried to regain their balance and a burst of gunfire drove into the gravel around them. Fo shoved Natick away and tried to run toward the ponies’ barracks. Gunshots peppered the ground and Fo fell. Natick stumbled, then fell on his belly a few meters past him.

Red Field was the first to realize the shots were coming from further up the mountain. He shouted for everypony to get back as bullets crackled into the concrete around the window. Blackout jumped out of bed and clutched a hoofgun.

“What the hell is going on?” He shouted. Another burst of gunfire hit the base.

“Direct fire, up the mountain.” Red Field said. “Fo and Natick are-”

“Breech, where’s Breech?” Blackout said. As if in answer, Locked Breech called up from the ground floor.

“Anybody have eyes on?”

“Further up the mountain.” Red Field said.

“How many shooters?” Asked Locked Breech.

“I don’t know.” Said Red Field.

“Smoke, out the window.” Said Locked Breech. “Both dogs are hit, we need to get them out of there.”

The ponies bolted to their gear.

“Fuck fuck fuck, where’s the smoke?” Wildcat threw open his pack and began ransacking it.

“Full Wing, we should have two canisters in the pack.” Red Field said and Full Wing tore open his rucksack.

“I got signal cans.” Chesterfield pulled three colored smoke grenades from his pack.
“Those won’t cover shit.” Blackout said, ripping his pack open and shuffling through the contents. More rounds struck the wall and a few bits of concrete fell from the ceiling. The debris pelted Red Field’s body.

“Goddamn it, Full, where are they?” Red Field asked.

“Here here!” Said Full Wing. Full Wing crawled under the window and thrust a pair of smoke grenades to Red Field.

“Got smoke!” Red Field shouted to Locked Breech.

“Out the window, on eleven position.” Red Field snapped off a pin and lobbed the first grenade out the window. The grenade sank into the gravel. The next followed a moment later. The gunfire stopped as hissing smoke curled out of the grenades.

“Got more!” Blackout threw three grenades out of the window. A few moments later, smoke was starting to flood the compound. More bullets pounded against the ponies' barracks.

“All right, Cat, down here now. We need to go out and grab those two.” Said Locked Breech.

“Copy.” Wildcat threw his vest on

“The rest of you keep back from the window.” Locked Breech said as Wildcat galloped down the stairs. “All right, you grab one, I’ll get the other. On my go.”

“Breech don’t risk anything.” Said Blackout.

“One, two, three.” Both ponies bolted into the smoky compound and their hoofbeats grew quieter as they ran to the fallen dogs.

“Shit shit shit.” Blackout grabbed his rifle. “We need to put down a base of fire.” He ran to the window and aimed into the swirling smoke.

“We don’t know where they are.” Full Wing said.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t scare them!” Shouted Blackout, firing a burst up the mountain. Chesterfield picked up his rifle. He leaned over Blackout and began to fire as well. Red Field loaded his DMR, then tried to squeeze himself next to them. The smoke was starting to trickle through the window and it burned his eyes as he looked out into the grey. He fired a few rounds and the DMR pounded his off-shoulder. The shooters were probably on the cliff somewhere above them; he ought to aim there. Red Field adjusted his blind aim and fired ten more rounds.

“Keep it on them.” Blackout shouted. “Stagger your shots.”

“Aim further up.” Red Field said. The unseen shooter replied and hit the vicinity of the window. Something smacked Red Field in the chest and he fell backward. The DMR fell next to him and Red Field gasped for breath.

“Red! Oh God Red!” Full Wing pulled him away from the window.

“Goddamn it, everypony okay?” Blackout had rolled away from the window. “Red, you hit?”

“Yes, yes he is!” Shouted Full Wing.

Red Field’s head stung and he felt a throbbing pressure in the center of his chest. He looked down, a sickly feeling of numbness overtaking him. A raised bump of red flesh stood up in the center of his chest. He felt it with a trembling hoof and his chest tightened sharply. He couldn’t see any blood. Light filtered through holes in the concrete and the room was filling with smoke.

“I think I’m okay.” He said as Blackout pulled him further away from the window.

“Hold fire!” Locked Breech shouted from beneath them. “Get the medical supplies down here now!” Blackout helped Red Field up while Chesterfield sprinted downstairs with the medical satchel.

“Where are you hit?” Blackout asked. Red Field coughed and tasted blood in his mouth.

“Chest.” He grew lightheaded and steadied himself against Blackout. “Ricochet hit me I think.” He said, his chest burning as he spoke. Blackout helped him out of the room as more rounds hit around their window.

Fo and Natick were propped up against the wall of the assembly room. A trail of blood tracked in from the door and to where the two dogs sat. Wildcat knelt over Natick and Chesterfield over Fo. Wildcat’s hooves were wet with blood and he was shouting for something. Fo’s head rolled to the side. His eyes were closed.

“Full Wing.” Locked Breech grabbed Full Wing, who'd been helping Red Field down the stairs. “We need you to get across the compound right now and get their medic.” He pointed out of the open door. “You’ve got a heavy cloud of smoke, fly low and don’t flap too hard or you’ll dissolve the cloud.”

“W-what?” Full Wing asked. “I can't-”

“Full Wing, this is not the time. You’re UAT, you’re going to get across just fine.” Locked Breech said. “Those two are hit bad and we need a medic who knows how to work on dogs right now.”

“Get their medic?” Full Wing asked.

“It’s not far, you can make it.” Said Locked Breech. Full Wing ran towards the door and Locked Breech pushed Red Field’s spotter out into the mist of grey.

“Red, RED!” Blackout shook Red Field by the shoulders. “Wake the fuck up, we need to know about the shooters.” He shouted into Red Field’s face, splattering Red Field’s nose and cheeks with warm saliva. “We need information. What can you tell about the fire? You think there’s multiple shooters? Can you tell the range?”

“Uh, hang on.” Said Red Field. Fo howled in agony and Red Field looked over to where the dogs laid.

“Red, the shooters.” Blackout said.

“It sounded like one, cyclic rate was too slow to be two I think.” Red Field tried to keep himself from looking at the dogs. “Probably-” A burst of gunfire pelted the door with bits of gravel as Full Wing raced between the buildings. Locked Breech turned to Red Field.

“Red, we need to know what we’re dealing with.” He said.

“Sounded like automatic rifle fire, I think just one shooter.” Said Red Field.

“Can you tell the rifle?” Asked Blackout. "Are they using our technology?"

“It sounded like Molot." Said Red Field. "But I don’t know for-”

“It was a Molot.” Natick said. His face was smeared with dust and blood. “That gun’s everywhere in these mountains.”

“So we’re probably not dealing with someone trained.” Said Locked Breech.

“The fire wasn’t accurate, bursts varied so-” Said Red Field.

“No, they aren’t trained.” Said Natick. “It’s one to five dogs with one rifle and maybe some handguns or a shotgun.”

“How do you know?” Asked Blackout.

“Everyone is armed up here, if you get shot at and aren’t dead in the first few seconds you can bet it’s just someone pissed off over something you did.” Fo coughed some blood and Red Field saw a ragged red tear in his belly. He opened his eyes and glowered at Locked Breech. “Can you think of anyone we might have angered recently?” He asked, his voice falling to a whisper as he ran out of breath.

Locked Breech turned back to Red Field.

“Think it’s those two teens from yesterday?” He asked.

“Of course it’s them you idiot!” Shouted Fo. He choked and began to cough blood onto Wildcat, who was trying to examine his wound.

“Hey shut up!” Blackout walked over to where the two dogs lay and for a moment Red Field feared he was going to kick Fo. “You want to go out there and take them on?”

“Let the adults talk. You’re a chunk of muscled dumbass, pony.” Fo said.

“Knock it off.” Locked Breech grabbed Blackout by the shoulders and pulled him away from Fo. “Go get our rifles and gear.”

Blackout said nothing and marched off to get their weapons. He looked back once and only Red Field saw his expression of growing hate toward the two dogs.

“I need you to lie down.” Wildcat said to Fo. “Red, give me a hoof.” As Red Field and Wildcat lowered Fo to the ground, Full Wing thundered into the room; a burst of accurate fire following him. Locked Breech slammed the door closed behind him

“Sounds like they found their hold over.” Red Field said. “They’ve got to be a few hundred meters away at least.” Another shower of rounds banged into the door as Full Wing picked himself up. His bandage had come undone and the swelling popped on the joint of his wing.

“They’re not coming over.” He said shakily. “That one named God said he wasn’t going to try and cross while whoever’s shooting at us is alive.”

“Are you serious?” Asked Wildcat.

“I don’t blame him.” Said Fo with a painful chuckle. “None of my dogs are dumb enough to try and run that far in the open.”

“All right then, what’s the plan for taking them out?” Locked Breech asked. Fo snickered, which Red Field found impressive for a dog whose intestines were visible.

“They’re going to wait until you step out; they’ll wait for days.” He said. “I tried to tell you that punks were different out here.”

“Captain, I need you to save your breath.” Wildcat said.

“Can we call in air support?” Asked Chesterfield.

“They’re six hours out, and we’d be bringing them into dangerous airspace without any idea where the fire is.” Locked Breech said. “Red, can you spot them?”

“Don’t try.” Natick said. “They’re above you, way above you. They’ll spot you faster than you can spot them.”

“What are our options then?” Blackout had returned and he carried the team’s rifles slung over his back like a giant quiver of arrows. He seemed a bit calmer now, though he still spoke shortly.

“I don’t know.” Natick said. “Our team hasn’t personally handled a situation like this.”

Fo gave an amused grunt from the floor.

“I’m sure my dogs called the Feds further up the mountain, and I’m sure they’re doing everything they possibly can to rescue a couple of beat cops who got shot over something personal.” He said distantly.

“We’ll need somewhere to get out if we’re going to do anything.” Said Locked Breech. “Where are the exits in this place?”

The building had no other exits. Red Field, Blackout and Full Wing searched through the barracks, looking for other ways out. Each room in each floor had a single window facing toward the inside of the compound. The second floor had a rudimentary kitchen and the third had a small briefing area. Besides the furnace room and assembly room where Wildcat and Chesterfield tended to the dogs, the barracks was empty.

The best the ponies found was a ladder leading to a hatch opening to the roof.

“Wonderful.” Locked Breech ran a hoof through his mane. “Who builds a barracks with only one entry?”

“There’s the roof.” Said Blackout. “Or a window.”

“That’s not ideal. Wildcat, what are their conditions?” Locked Breech said, glancing down to where the medic sat. Wildcat lifted up his bloodied hooves.

“I don’t know. Fo’s got a bad tear in his lower abdomen plus a few nicks to his right side. Natick’s got a broken shoulder and his right thigh’s chewed up.” He looked up at Locked Breech. “We really need their medic, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here.”

“Understood.” Locked Breech shook his head. “What are our options?” Fo laid on his back with his paws folded over his chest like a corpse. He stared at the ceiling, blinking occasionally. He’d stopped talking. His belly was covered in a matted pile of gauze and an IV ran to his arm. Natick sat against the wall, looking at his feet.

“You.” Natick pointed to Red Field. “You’re a sniper right?”

“Yes.”

Natick swallowed, the muscles of his neck straining.

“You could go out once it gets dark and hunt them down. Are you a good sniper?” Red Field didn’t know how to answer and Blackout spoke.

“We aren’t sending one guy out against an unknown enemy.” Said Blackout. Natick shrugged weakly.

“Just a thought.”

“Red, over here.” Locked Breech stood by the front door, his rifle slung across his chest. Locked Breech walked a bit, far enough so neither the dogs nor the rest of Recon could hear them. “What’s your take on this?”

“I’d believe their assessment, judging by the inaccuracy of the fire and the low number of rounds the shooters are firing.” Said Red Field.

“Do you think you can take them?” Red Field’s heart missed a beat. Locked Breech sighed. “Look, I don’t want your first job as a sniper to be a suicide mission. But I’ve got two injured allies and I don’t want to risk bringing air support into a killzone unless I have no other choice. If we wait until dark, I could have you and Full Wing slip out of the roof and have him fly you over the wall. Can you hunt those jackasses down?”

Red Field’s decision stemmed from many considerations. His training, his analysis of the situation, which had been ongoing since the first gunshot, and finally, the value he gave to the lives of the two wounded dogs in the room behind him. However the decision in Red Field’s reply came not from rationality, but from what he’d seen in one of the most irrational ponies he knew. Full Wing’s thoughtless rush across the compound had set a standard for him.

“I can get them.”

“Okay, we’ll wait till nightfall. Get your gear ready.” Said Locked Breech.

Red Field began to assemble his supplies. He laid the furry robe of his ghillie suit in the hallway outside of their room. He didn’t want to be anywhere near the window. He took three magazines for the DMR, each loaded with hollow points and pushed them into the harness across his chest. He realized he’d put them in upside down and righted them with shaking hooves.

He pushed four hoofgun magazines into the legs of the suit, then added the long survival knife he’d been issued. Should he ask to bring Blackout’s Tempest just in case?

Red Field stopped.

He was over-preparing from paranoia;
he needed to streamline his equipment.

He replaced the knife with a smaller folding blade and downloaded the rifle magazines to eighteen rounds each to make certain they’d feed. Red Field set the suit and the DMR in the empty room across from theirs. He then returned to the ground floor and sat with the others.

Waiting was the worst part.

Red Field sat and stared at the wall opposite him as he waited for the hours to pass. Natick drew him a map of the mountainside above them and Red Field studied it. Natick seemed to sense Red Field’s fear and even as he struggled to finish his sentences, he tried to assuage Red Field’s fear.

“They aren’t well-trained but they can still smell well. They might have left already, but they should still have left a camp. If they’re not there, see what you can figure out about them and get a trap set up.”

“Hey.” Locked Breech tapped Red Field’s hooves, which sprawled out before him. “We’re good to go.” Red Field looked up. Full Wing stood beside Locked Breech. He was wearing his uniform and had a carbine slung across his chest.

“Ready to go?” Full Wing asked.

“Yeah, ready.” Red Field said, suddenly unready. He donned his ghillie suit and felt the weight of the magazines dig into his bruised chest. He picked up the DMR and chambered a round.

“Cat, Chess. Make sure that door stays closed and locked. Tell me if either of the dogs’ conditions changes.” Locked Breech said.

“Good luck out there you guys.” Said Wildcat.

“Stay safe.” Chesterfield said, giving a small salute.

“Yeah, we will.” Full Wing sounded as scared as Red Field but he managed a smile. “Be back in a bit.”

Blackout waited upstairs. Red Field didn’t know if anypony had told him their plan. The black unicorn sat near the bottom of the ladder under the trapdoor. He looked up as they approached.

“Was just making sure nobody climbed down and tried to sneak up on us.” He said quietly.

“Good idea.” Locked Breech said. Full Wing looked up the ladder.

“It’s unlocked.” Said Blackout. “Ready to go.”

Full Wing nodded. They waited. Red Field was growing nauseous.

“You know what to do.” Locked Breech put his hoof on Red Field’s shoulder. “Get out there, take them out. Once you’ve taken out the shooters, sweep as much of the incline as you can before climbing back down to the base.”

Red Field’s stomach threatened to overturn, but Full Wing kept him from dwelling too long.

“Are we ready?” Full Wing asked anxiously.

“Yep, get out there.” Locked Breech said. Red Field realized he was going first. He began to climb the ladder.

“Good luck out there Red.” Blackout said. “Just keep your head okay?”

“Okay.” Red Field said, trying to keep control of his breathing.

The lights in the compound were off. Yet as Red Field emerged on the roof of the building, he was exposed and a very easy target for whoever was shooting at them. He heard Full Wing bumping and clanking up the ladder after him. Red Field looked back at the dark, almost blackened slope of the mountain behind them. He looked down at the Gmales’ building and saw a few of them were looking out of the windows of their barracks.

Red Field recognized God. God didn’t notice him, giving Red Field a bit more hope he was less visible than he felt. The sun had been down for about an hour, and the moon was stifled behind a bank of clouds.

“Come here dude.” Full Wing had climbed up beside Red Field and he held out his fore hooves as if he wanted to hug Red Field. Red Field pulled close to him and Full Wing embraced him. A part of Red Field’s brain wondered if Full Wing was going to say something about their intimate position. “All right, just hang on and don’t move too much.” Red Field’s stomach lurched as Full Wing pulled him into the air. Full Wing beat his wings once and they left the roof. They fell for a few seconds, Full Wing spreading his wings and slowing their descent, before banking left and landing on the other side of the concrete wall. They landed in a patch of ferns beneath the trees and Full Wing let go of Red Field. Red Field could see Full Wing grimace and rub at his injured wing.

“Heh, don’t tell anypony we hugged.” Said Full Wing. “Hey so uh, what’s the plan?”

“Left, we go left so we don’t have to cross the road.” Red Field said. “Move back from the wall, get into the woods a little.”

The pair climbed down the mountain for a bit, before walking perpendicular to the slope. They walked until they came to the end of the wall surrounding the base. The forest thickened as it continued up the side of the mountain and both ponies knelt behind a poplar tree.

“We need to crawl here.” Red Field said softly. “We’re going to swing to the left about seventy meters and then head upward.”

“Okay.” Full Wing said. Red Field tightened the sling of the DMR before dropping to his belly and crawling out from behind the tree. He kept his eyes trained on the slope above.

A branch snapped.

“Shit, sorry.” Full Wing whispered. They continued to crawl. Red Field crept over and around the sticks and leaves in his path as he began the slow journey up to their destination. Another branch snapped, this one audible for probably twenty meters. “Shit, sorry.” Red Field’s snout bumped a rock and he nosed it out of his path. His bruised chest was already hurting and they hadn’t gone ten meters.

Snap. "Shit, sorry."

“Go back.” He whispered to Full Wing.

“Where are we going?” Asked Full Wing.

“I need you to go back.” Red Field said.

“What? No, we need to stay together.”

“Full Wing, listen to me. We don’t know where these dogs are. I can’t have you making any noise.”

“I’m sorry dude, I promise I’ll be quiet.”

“Full Wing, go back.”

“Red, I don’t want you to go out there alone.”

“Nothing will happen, but you need to let me do my job.” Red Field felt like he was talking to a little brother. “I promise I’ll be okay.” Full Wing hesitated, then inched back down toward the wall.

“Just, please don’t get hurt or anything.”

“I won’t, now just stay at the edge of the base and I’ll be back.” Full Wing rustled backward through the leaves and Red Field waited until he crawled up out of earshot.

Red Field only crawled fifteen meters before a strange and severe form of loneliness came over him. He looked over his shoulder. Full Wing was gone. He looked at the base. The only light radiated out of the windows of the dogs’ barracks. He felt the urge to shut his eyes and press tightly to the ground.

Belligerence had told him fear was like the cold. It made his mind chilly and incapable of anything besides trying to shake the cold. Beating fear wasn’t about confronting it, but ignoring it and letting his head warm itself.

They were most likely within three hundred meters of the camp. They could be at an angle. He looked ahead of him, he was crawling up the mountain at a forty five degree angle relative to the base. Was he crawling toward them?

He stopped crawling.

Where had Natick and Fo been standing? Natick had been hit in the back. At such an angle, they’d have to be on the very edge of the cliff overlooking the base. He started to crawl again and an icy thought entered his mind.

He was assuming they hadn’t moved closer.

Red Field crawled for forty five minutes before stopping to catch his breath. He looked up after resting for a second. A wave of panic overtook him as he lost his bearings. He was pressed to the ground and surrounded by trees. He looked around, seeing nothing but more forest. His heart rate picked up and his breath entered and exited his mouth.

Red Field's gaze swept over something yellow. The patch of light from the windows of the dogs’ barracks pooled in the middle of the base.

He’d crawled far enough up the incline he could see over the wall. Red Field made out the small pattern of dark blood from where Fo and Natick had been hit. The base felt like an anchor and Red Field had trouble looking away from it.

He was about where he wanted to be; seventy meters to the left of the compound and seventy past the top left corner. He began to crawl again, this time straight up the mountain.

They were almost certainly within three hundred meters of the base. They were firing a Molot, which could only hold an eight to eighteen centimeter group at three hundred meters. The shooters weren’t trained either, so they were probably inside of two hundred meters.

Red Field pulled his rifle over his head and laid it in the leaves. He flipped the scope covers open and drew the scope to his eye. He could see nothing. He drew the magnification back, but could still see nothing. He was too low to the ground and his view was obscured by undergrowth. Pulling his hood farther over his head, Red Field rose up slightly. He was in the middle of a small stand of pines and had to lean to look around the needles. He gazed up at the cliff.

A small dot of yellow came into focus and Red Field pulled in a deep breath. The faint yellow orb blinked. Red Field pulled in another slow breath. He magnified the eye, which hovered on the edge of the cliff. The eye blinked again and he slid the safety off.

The firefly’s wings blurred its luminescence momentarily and Red Field let go of the trigger. The miniscule insect bobbed for a few moments longer, before it flew out of sight. Red Field exhaled, then dropped back to his belly.

He crawled another forty meters and was in line with the edge of the cliff. He remembered the dogs’ sense of smell. He pushed himself deeper into the leaves. He had no idea how effective their noses were or which way the wind blew. He laid too close to the ground to feel the breeze. The pines were rustling a bit, but their branches and needles trembled without uniformity.

Red Field was illuminated with ghostly white light. The moon had escaped the clouds and now he was caught in an open patch of ground. Red Field pressed himself into the earth, willing himself into the scenery. He swallowed back the cold fear telling him to get up and run.

The moonlight drifted over the trees just behind the cliff. A shape moved between two trees about thirty meters from the edge of the cliff. Clouds closed over the moon again and the mountain fell to darkness. Red Field watched the trees. Nothing looked out of the ordinary.

But it had.

Another hour passed as Red Field crawled up the mountain. He ascended past the cliff. A thick slab of rock stood behind the woods atop the cliff and Red Field began to pass over smaller rocks as he crawled. The barrel of the DMR jabbed a stone as he wormed his way through the swishing grass. He shifted the gun under him and the front sight clinked on a rock. Red Field rolled over and lifted the rifle out of the dirt. He pushed it over his shoulder and the rubber foot of the bipod brushed his face, transferring a leaf onto his cheek. Red Field tightened the sling and started to crawl with the rifle slung over his back. The leaf clung to his face and as he lifted his hoof to brush it away, Red Field felt the leaf move.

It had legs.

Red Field drove his hoof into his face, crushing the insect. Its carapace crunched and the tiny vibration burrowed into his skull. He wiped his hoof in the grass and took a deep breath. He continued on, a drop of warm blood along with the paste of an exoskeleton pressed just under his eye.

He stopped at the base of the rock slab. He was now directly above where he’d seen the movement. He pushed aside the grasses and looked down into the woods atop the cliff.

The moonlight had been growing steadily dimmer as more thin sheets of clouds accumulated and by the time Red Field drew up his scope, he had difficulty seeing through the soft stalks of grass just ahead of him. He looked up at the moon to see if the clouds were going to pass. A storm cloud approached the blockade concealing the moon.

The wood was maybe fifty trees square and Red Field writhed down the short incline to the first tree. He crouched, listening and looking for anything. Hearing nothing, he crawled a bit deeper into the trees.

A slight whine, like the sound of a congested nose, came from his right. The edge of the cliff sat thirty meters away and Red Field lay in a patch of furry moss. His face was pressed to the ground and Red Field twitched his ear. The whine came again. It repeated after a lengthy respiratory pause. Someone was snoring. Red Field was laying within two meters of the snorer. His heart rate jumped and panic crystalized his thoughts.

He needed to move back. Red Field lifted a hind hoof, then stopped. They had let two of the robbers go.

Where was the other dog?

He caught the sound of another dog breathing, this one awake. The other robber was to his left. He’d crawled between them. Red Field fought back the instinct prompting him to hyperventilate. He crawled back up the moss until he reached a tree. Red Field inched to the opposite side of the tree. He shut his eyes and took a long, silent breath. He held the breath in his lungs for four seconds.

He unholstered his hoofgun and peeked back around the tree. The snoring dog laid on his back atop the moss. A backpack laid next to him, along with a few cigarette butts and an empty can of dog food. Red Field leaned further, looking for the other. His hoof brushed something and he looked down. The other dog was sitting against the other side of the tree. Red Field’s hoof was barely brushing the hair on the dog’s ear.

Red Field recognized the abraded fur around the lanky Scilicite’s neck, from when the dog had been accosted by the Gmales. Red Field's breathing ceased and the discomfort from his awkward pose behind the tree vanished.

The dog under him reached into his thin red vest and drew a lighter. He turned it in his paw and it clinked open.

“Ugh.” The one in the moss stirred and wiped his eyes. “We leaving?”

“Yeah, soon. I just wanted to make sure that guy’s dead. He’s been in the ponies’ building for a while; doubt they know what to do with him. He’s about dead by now I'm pretty sure.”

“What about the medic from his crew?” Asked the one in the moss, rolling over and looking back at his companion. His luminous green eyes focused perhaps half a meter below Red Field.

“They’re all huddled up in their barracks right now. I checked a few times. Guess they don’t give a shit about him.” The dog with the lighter laughed. “Maybe they owe us a ‘thank you’.”

“What about the ponies?” Asked the one in the moss.

“They’re not going to do anything. They were already sick of that guy’s shit. Don’t think they’re going to come avenge some Gmale prick that was pushing them around.” The dog sitting by the tree slid his lighter back into his pocket. “Where’s the gun? I want to rip off a few more shots to keep ‘em inside. I’m okay with just getting that shitbag who killed Bone.”

“Woulda been cool to get a pony though.” Said the dog laying in the moss. He rolled over again and yawned. “Gun’s over here.” He held up a Molot.

“Once we-” The dog sitting next to Red Field started to rise, then turned his head. His cheek wrinkled as he sniffed.
Red Field felt the fibers of his suit trembling in the wind blowing down the mountain. The dog looked back. His eyes were a bright yellow and they were focused as if he expected to see something in the distance. They widened as he and Red Field locked eyes.

Red Field saw his gun rise up between them. The next instant was a spark of yellow and the pop of a gunshot. Red Field swung his aim toward the other dog. Three more shots left a black burn in his vision.

He bolted behind a different tree and peeked out only to fire another three rounds. He ran a little ways from them, before sinking to the ground.

The three blue dots atop his pistol flicked back and forth as he waited for return fire. His accumulated night vision ruined by the muzzle flash of the pistol, Red Field blindly waited for the two to move.

The mountain was again washed with white moonlight as the curtain of clouds gave way.

A splash of red covered the moss and Red Field followed it back to the dog who’d been sleeping. The dog’s throat had been hit and bones stuck out from his neck. Another round hit his shoulder and blood bubbled out of the pink muscle. The final round had hit the dog in the cheek and exited the top of the dog’s head, splattering the moss as he tipped over.

Red Field stared at the body, at the color.

Red Field's pistol snapped up as a wheezing, gurgling breath reached him. The dog who’d smelled him was laying on his back. The dog’s ribcage dented inward and each breath bubbled from the wound. The robber lifted his head and caught sight of Red Field. Red Field’s mind went blank as the dog recognized him. He felt embarrassed, could the dog tell?

The diamond dog’s arm was drawing upward very slowly. His thumb was pressed against the Molot’s fire selector. Before Red Field processed what the dog was doing, the three dots appeared before him and his ears popped. The Scilicite’s head knocked against the ground. His paw slipped off of the rifle and into the leaves, leaving the selector midway between safe and fire.

A sigh left the dog.

Next Chapter: Chapter 24 Estimated time remaining: 3 Hours, 20 Minutes