Pinkie stared at me from across the table with wide eyes as I told her how the entire debacle at Bunker Bridge started. The deaths and desertions, the fear and panic.

All of it.

Then she grimaced at me.

“You lied to me, Mister Shale,” she said flatly. I felt a slight chill go down my spine as I tried to figure out what she meant.

“Uhm... I... how?”

“You said you were just one soldier, that you weren't the one who saved my sister, but that's not true. You pulled everypony together, you were the one who made sure all the civilians got put in a place were the other soldiers could keep them safe.”

“O-oh... I guess I did,” to be honest I hadn't really been thinking of it that way. “To be perfectly honest Pinkie, I was flying by the seat of my flank, I had no idea what I was doing. I was just trying my best to keep as many ponies safe as I could. If I hadn't stepped up I'm sure somepony else would have.”

“No!” she countered, “I don't think that's true, you said everypony was afraid, even that meanie pants Brick only tried to take over after you'd done all the hard work getting everypony together!”

“There were hundreds of other soldiers there, I couldn't have been the only one, Pinkie.” I refused to believe that nopony would have tried to help. I couldn't imagine a bunker full of soldiers just sitting with their hooves up their fundaments waiting to die.

Pinkie rubbed her chin in a manner that made me imagine gears turning in her head before finally saying, “I just... I think that being able to inspire ponies the way you did isn't a very common thing.”

“Maybe, maybe not, all I know is what happened, I can't know what would have happened if I'd kept my mouth shut.” Or maybe I didn't want to. For all I knew somepony else would have kept more soldiers alive.

“So... what happened next?”

“Next? Next, ponies started to die.”

A shout of warning from the direction of the barricade broke the mood of the hour.

“Attack! The Griffons are coming!” the sound was punctuated by the crack-crack sounds of the long-arcs firing.

“P-platoon one! With me! Number two, hold in reserve, everypony else, secure the civilians!” I shouted as I galloped towards the barricade. The Griffons were here; fear gripped my heart but it was the stymied by the analytical part of my brain telling me that it couldn't be a full scale attack. No commander was dumb enough to commit a total attack on a defended outpost without gathering information on its capabilities.

I was right, fortunately, five of my soldiers (and wasn't that a novel idea) were taking careful aim with the long-arcs through the small gaps that Strong Boulder and his crew had thoughtfully left in the barricade. I peered carefully over the wall, which was constructed out of surprisingly sturdy materials. Piled up concrete blocks left over from the hasty construction of the bunker were reinforced by wooden tables that had been sawed apart to form a five foot thick wall over where some of our basic issue sandbags had been placed.

From what I could see the Griffons were charging suicidally down the forty foot hallway, trying to avoid the shots and make it to the barricade. It almost looked like they were competing to see who got further before dying. I shuddered at the callous cruelty that must be a defining feature of Phaestus, to knowingly send dozens of his warriors to die on our makeshift wall just to get our measure. I could already barely see the floor of the hallway for all the feathered corpses.

What was he thinking? I mused, Surely there were better ways to determine our capability than to sacrifice all these warriors. Even for a psychopath like Phaestus this is absurd.

A few shots went wide, chipping away the hardened concrete of the bunker, I seized the soldier who'd fired them by the shoulder, “Take the time to aim soldier, we haven't got the ammunition to waste you hear me?”

He nodded frantically as he cracked off his last round and the spent gem rolled out of the chamber. He carefully pocketed it and slipped in a new one before taking aim again, more carefully this time I was pleased to see.

Charmer approached me, carefully, moving fearfully towards the barricade, I called out 'Switch!' as they expended the last of their ammunition and the soldiers from my platoon took up position smoothly. The sounds of long-arc fire never missed a beat.

“What are our numbers looking like Charmer?” the not-so-subtle crack-crack underpinned my words as we sheltered behind the wood and concrete.

“Uhm, there are about six hundred civilians, but the main mess and the adjoining rooms can fit over a thousand comfortably, more if we squeeze.” She consulted a few more papers, “and we have three hundred and fifty-six soldiers from the assorted platoons sir, as well as some from second company but we haven't had any word from the rest of them.”

I nodded grimly, “I hate to say it but we have to assume the Griffons caught them the same way they caught the command squadron.”

Her eyes turned into dinner plates, “B-but Sha- C-Captain, that's almost half our number!”

“Intel said the Griffon contingent numbered almost fifteen hundred right? We were outnumbered from the get-go. Command counted on them being to prissy or careful to enter the bunker and they were dead wrong.” I countered angrily, remembering the idiotic confidence the Lieutenant Colonel had had during the briefing. “This is all because they didn't count on the blitz tactics that Phaestus employed. In short, they caught us spread out with our heads in the sand and our flanks in the air. I'm surprised there are this many of us left.”

I could see tremors of terror shaking my unofficial second in command in her greatcoat, I cursed myself for being so grim. I was a leader now, I was supposed to be optimistic.

“H-hey, look, we got off to a bad start, a real bad start,” which didn't help her mood at all, “but look, we're all here; we've got a plan, defenses, and all our troops in one place. All we have to do is hold out and wait for support.” That helped a little, she visibly relaxed as I projected a level of confidence into my voice that I was certainly not feeling. “Go ask Honey what the status with the comms is, I want to know right away if we hear from the other platoons.” she nodded and dashed off, the fear was still in her but giving her a task had put that fear to work for her.

These ponies needed a leader. I was not a leader. Unfortunately I was all they had so I had to fake it for their sake, even if it meant a lot of panic and terror being bottled up. I idly imagined what I'd be like by the end of this whole debacle, assuming that I got out of it at all which seemed wildly optimistic at this stage.

“These featherheads are really determined,” one of the long-arc'rs muttered as he cracked off another shot. “What are they even trying to do?”

“Who knows, probably just crazy,” another one answered.

“I'm not so sure...” I joined them at the wall.

“What do you mean Cap'?”

The affectionate shortening of my ad hoc title caught me by surprise. I could hardly believe how fast they'd accepted me. I supposed that if I were in their position though, I'd just be happy we weren't running around headless anymore.

“Phaestus isn't an idiot, he took out almost all of our leadership in his opening move, we don't even know where nearly half our regiment even is.” I didn't want to admit to the line soldiers that I was pretty much counting them as dead. “So why is he just throwing his warriors at us? It doesn't fit.”

“No clue Cap', sorry.”

“Switch out!” I called as the last of the rounds were expended and the first line took back their positions.

I saw the soldier I'd admonished earlier taking much more careful shots. His accuracy had improved considerably. I made a mental note to talk to the ponies that were now, unfortunately, under my command one-on-one more often, it seemed to work well.

At least we're keeping them out.

That thought was the one passing idly through my head when my world turned into noise and fire.

Everything happened at once, there was a shout and another distinct crack-crack, and behind that the squawk of a Griffon warrior. My mind registered the sound, thinking that it sounded too close to the barricade just as a small object flew over the wall and landed no more than a few hooves away from me.

“GRENADE!”

Somepony screamed and time seemed to slow down as I saw the tiny, gray, rune-covered metal sphere strike the ground and roll. Then I was struck by something heavy, throwing me to the ground right before a deafening explosion ripped through the air and I was struck by flying debris, as well as something wet and sticky. The disorientation seemed to last for minutes although it couldn't have been more than a hoofful of seconds at most. My ears were ringing painfully but soon I could make out screams and sobs of pain around me, I was surrounded smoke and the sickly rich smell of blood filled my nostrils.

I staggered to my hooves, “Is everypony alright?!” I yelled but it sounded muffled and distorted, I knew it was just my ears re-adjusting after the explosion though. Frankly, I was amazed I was still alive, much less able to stand. I'd seen examples of grenades before in military history class as well as some practical demonstrations in boot camp. The Griffonari alchemists made them out of volatile chemicals and packed them into balls of pig-iron. They were deadly forces of destruction, and at that range I should have been dead. That was when I saw the reason for why I wasn't. For a second my brain couldn't accurately reconcile what I was seeing.

Absurdly, the thought of; 'I don't remember the floor being painted red,' crossed my mind right before logic brutally asserted itself.

The floor was covered in the blood and gory remains of a pony, the tiny fragments I'd been stepping on were probably equal parts bone chips and destroyed concrete. I lifted my hoof in shock, I could discern some staining on it but my coat, somehow, seemed untouched. At least, it did until I brought it to my nose.

As it turned out, blood just doesn't show up on my coat very well. It was just the right shade.

My stomach heaved and I lost everything I'd eaten that day on the floor. Somepony had pushed me away and thrown themselves on the grenade, it was the only reason we all weren't absolutely dead. I looked around frantically, for some reason it was insanely important to me to know who had done it. I counted out the long-arc'rs and my heart kicked as I realized the only one missing was the colt I'd spoken to about his aim.

Rage flared up, bright and red behind my eyes, I drew my short blade from within my coat and dashed towards now-battered barricade. It was clear to me now, that maniac Phaestus hadn't just been testing our defensive range, he'd been sending suicide bombers at us. He probably heard me shouting orders and had been timing his troops runs to coincide with my soldiers reloading or switching out, to give them the best chance.

I stepped beyond the barricade just as the first Griffon reached it, I emerged from the smoke and reacted without thought, driving the blade into the soft flesh between the warriors ribs. He hitched and went slack as I jerked the blade violently from his torso. As I pulled my blade free I could see second warrior, a female, descending on me for a beheading stroke, her curved talwar pulled back. I would have been dead if I hadn't been a unicorn. A dull thump of bass sounded as the Griffon I'd just skewered was kicked up into the air, smashing into his diving comrade and bearing her to the ground. I rose up on my hind legs and brought my hooves down with a bone-jarring Crunch. I felt her skull cave just as two more charged in, I was ready for them, I was ready to kill the murdering bastards, even if I went down with them.

Two sharp reports from long-arcs interrupted their charge though, dropping them to the ground. They'd been so focused on me that they hadn't noticed the second line take up position and aim. To be fair to the Griffons, neither had I.

I roared, rage still pumping hot through my veins. An oncoming Griffon entered my sight, a perfect target, without thought I did something I'd never been able to do properly before. I released my grip on my short blade and for a split second it fell from my mouth before my magic it caught it in a field of vibrations and sent it hurtling into the left eye of the charging Griffon. I marched forward again, yanking the red and gray-stained blade unceremoniously from the dead creature's socket.

“PHAESTUS YOU SICK COWARD! COME OUT HERE!” I roared my challenge at the top of my lungs, the charge had stopped, no more Griffons were coming down the hallway.

“WELL?! WHERE ARE YOU?!”

“Captain! Please come back behind the barrica-”

Summer Wither's had was trying to pull me back but I fought her, I don't know why, I was just so angry. Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of movement, a flash of motion from the far end of the hallway and a tiny object hurtling towards me. Summer cried out and froze in terror. I knew I had seconds before the tragedy repeated itself; another sun-damned grenade, I thought and the notion reignited my hate, I roared again, and a ripple of tectonic force split the air in front of me in a cone, catching the tiny sphere and rebounding it back down the hall. It struck the floor with another deafening detonation. I heard screams and howls of pain from what I presumed were soldiers who got caught on the edges of it.

I wanted revenge for the pony who'd taken the grenade for me and I had gotten it, or at least a small measure of it. It was only as I reached the barricade that I realized something that stopped me in my tracks.

I never asked him his name.

Pinkie looked a little ill as I finished the first part of my story. I couldn't blame her, it got real bad pretty quickly.

“I didn't sleep at all that night, but then, I don't think any of us got a good night's sleep while we were in that deathtrap.”

“I... I guess I see why Octavia never wanted to talk about it...” Pinkie's hair had gone almost flat, a stark contrast to her usually fluffy mane.

“It's just one of those things you can't really describe. Words just... don't do it justice, you know?”

Pinkie nodded, I had a feeling she probably got the gist of it better than most ponies might. She seemed to have a pretty vivid imagination, I guessed that at that moment it wasn't her favorite aspect of herself though. I stretched out and cracked my neck and shoulders, we had been sitting and talking for hours and it was getting dark outside.

Pinkie Pie got up and moved into the kitchen, she came back to two steaming mugs of what smelled like cocoa, “So what happened after that?” she asked as she sat back down and scooted my own mug over to me.

“After that we regrouped, repaired the barricade, and did our best to refill our ammunition,” I ticked off the list, even now, years later, the little things came back as clear as day. “Summer and Honey had the idea that probably saved us all, they had all the unicorns amongst the civilians refilling the gems. After all, none of them were soldiers, and this way we could keep our own magic in reserve for the hairier moments.”

“Is that where the stuff about the civilians working with the soldiers started?”

I nodded, “yeah, after that more and more civilians wanted to help. Eventually the soldiers that were off barricade and patrol duty started up a militia. They gave the civies basic training, drilled them in simple combat maneuvers, tactics, how to take orders, all that stuff.”

“Wowie... everypony?” I nodded again.

“Everypony that could, did. In situations where survival is on the line the barriers between civilian and soldier get blurred. Even the most sheltered pony in that hole figured out pretty quick that even ponies who aren't soldiers can still get killed by them.”

She went quiet for a few minutes, apparently mulling something over in her head before finally meeting my eyes again.

“Uhm... Jasper?”

I felt a question coming on that had been on Pinkie's mind for awhile. I figured there was more to this than just knowing what happened in the bunker.

“W-... uhm... what did my sister do?”

That was a fair question, I supposed, “Hmmm, what was her name again? Octavia?”

The pink pony's head bobbed up and down, “her stage name is Octavia Philharmonica, but her real last name is Pie. She's a gray earth pony with a black mane, she wears a little bow tie around her neck while she's performing.”

Pinkie's description brought her face came back to me in a rush of memory and emotion.

A gray mare stood next to the medic, both wearing surgical masks, hooves covered in blood as they frantically tried to save the dying soldier. Her eyes wide with fear and tears barely held in check, handing tool after tool to the doctor. Tiny spots of blood stained the incongruous collar and bow tie she wore.

A high voice redolent with grief could be heard over the stuttering gasps of the dying soldier: “Summer! Oh Celestia, Summer! Please don't die! PLEASE!”

“-sper? Jasper are you ok?” Pinkie's voice snapped me out of the memory. It had been so real, the rusty smell of old blood that eventually sank into the very stone of the bunker was fresh in my nose.

“Y-yeah... I'm fine, I remember your sister, she was a medical assistant to the regiment's senior combat medic. She helped save a few lives herself.”

For some reason she seemed unsurprised, Pinkie nodded in an understanding manner. I didn't really want to go in to the details of the things her sister had dealt with since battlefield wounds could get ugly on the best days and that month wasn't exactly chock full of 'best days'.

“You knew?”

Pinkie shuffled a little uncomfortably but shook her head.

“I just... thought it might be something like that. After Bunker Bridge Octy came to visit, she said she was putting down her Cello for a while because she wanted to go back to school... for a medical degree.”

“That... doesn't sound too bad,” we could always use more good Doctors and Nurses after all but Pinkie shook her head again, her eyes were downcast and sorrowful.

“You don't understand. Octy's cutie mark is a treble clef, music is her special talent, she loves it more than anything. For her to say that she's gonna 'Put down her Cello' is like me saying I'm gonna stop partying and making sweets for a while!”

“I see, I don't know what to tell you Pinkie, war changes people. I'm glad she didn't have to endure more than she did but your sister probably saw the readers digest version of the worst that war can offer.”

“I know... I just... I wanted to know why. I feel terrible for going behind Octy's back though. I thought maybe it would help but...” Pinkie's expression was heartbreaking, I knew the look though. She was trying so hard to understand, but she couldn't relate to it. It was her sister too, which I'm sure only exacerbated the issue.

We sat at the table quietly while Pinkie fought back tears, I wished I had some kind of comfort for her.

“S-so what happened after that...?”

I opened my mouth to continue my story but for some reason the words wouldn't come. The smell of blood, the memory of my... my soldier lying on the concrete bleeding her last kept interrupting everything in my mind.

“I'm sorry Pinkie... but I'm not really in the mood to remember any more of that place. Another time, maybe.”

I could see the disappoint on her face, but I had told the truth. Every memory brought me closer to what Celestia had told me to leave alone. Not only that but the memories themselves were bad enough that I knew the dreams waiting for me tonight would probably be worse than usual.

“It's getting late now, I should probably go.”

Pinkie nodded and stood with me, as I turned to leave she intercepted me and wrapped me in a tight hug.

“T-thank you... for everything. I really... needed to hear that stuff. I'm really sorry I had to ask though,” the regret and self-reproach in her voice was strong, I returned the hug though.

“You're just worried about your family, no shame in that Miss Pie,” I countered with a dry smile, Pinkie brightened a little and nodded.

“Hey Mister, I told you, call me Pinkie.”

“Right, sorry Pinkie, goodnight then.”

“G'night Captain.”

At those familiar words my breath caught in my lungs. For a moment I wasn't looking at the baker, Pinkie Pie, from the open doorway of Sugarcube Corner. Instead I was back in the Bunker, it was nighttime and I was lying in my bunk, and the words were coming from the beautiful, green-coated, brown-maned mare sharing that bed with me.

G'night Captain.

I left the small shop with my head wrapped in a fog of memories. Haunted by the dead and all the ponies I sacrificed to end that sun-damned war. Before I knew it I was back at the door to my cottage. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and a shiver went down my spine.

The door was cracked open.

With a hiss I drew a metal haft from the holster in my coat, from the ridge running down the center a curved crescent of metal snapped out with an audible ~click~. I pushed the door wide and stepped in to the lightless interior. I swept my gaze left and right, taking in the entrance, it was clear. I stepped through, cautiously, my ears perked for any extraneous sound in what should be a silent and empty cottage on the edge of town. A quick glance in the kitchen told me it was empty, the case was the same for the living room and the bathroom. All that was left was my own bedroom.

I moved silently down the hall, old habits coming back to me even after three years of disuse. The bedroom door, like the front door, was slightly ajar. Somepony was in there, possibly an assassin from the Griffon Empire, I'd made no friends over there. I'd put enough folks in the ground that the list of possible threats was far from short.

Then a playful voice came from the room, a voice I'd told myself over half a decade ago that I would never hear again.

“You coming in Captain? Or do I have to come get you?”

The scythe dropped from my mouth with a deafening clatter. I didn't even bother to retrieve it, I stepped over my weapon and pushed the door open fully. With a small effort of magic I ignited the glowglobe in the corner, illuminating the room. Sitting comfortably on my bed was a mare, her coat the color of a forest in the season of her namesake and her mane a mess of bronze locks. Scars riddled her body, one massive one dominated her chest though, a furless slice of scar tissue that went down to the bone. An absolutely fatal wound, without a hope of survival. She had been no exception to that.

“Hey Captain, long time no see.”

I worked my jaw for a minute before letting the name I'd never thought I would be able to say again without a pang of sorrow and loss pass my lips in a dry breath.

“...Summer?”