There were shadows in the fog. Figures that he could see, but not ones that he could discern. Figures that made him feel something. As he gazed at them, he tried to figure out what it was. Melancholy? Nostalgia? Both? They were walking toward him, but he was moving away at the same pace. He looked harder, trying to spot some features.

He could swear that two of them were the same, tall and lanky, horns protruding from their heads like spears. There was a bulky unicorn and an earth pony close by his side. It all seemed familiar to him. His eyes looked to the first pony, leading the way with confidence and his head held high. His rifle glinted silver in the pale morning light. He squinted more. There was a stenson silhouetted upon the leaders head.

“Repeater?” the unicorn whispered.

“Commander, you’re looking over your shoulder again,” a grainy voice said into his right ear, snapping him back into reality. The ponies that he looked at changed, slightly, but enough. He didn’t know them, and the feelings faded. He faced back front.

“That’s like the fourth time you’ve done that this morning Commander,” the grainy voice said into his ear again. He looked over left at the pony who sat next to him, a red beret askew on his head, clamped into place by a headset. He reached for a button upon his chest and pressed it.

“I’m just looking corporal.”

“Looking for your old squad?”

The unicorn was quiet for a moment, and then answered. No point in trying to hide it. “Yeah.”

“You think they’re out there?”

“Yes.”

“You’re worried about them, right?”

“Yes again.”

A third voice cut into the conversation through the headset. “I bet they’re just fine commander.”

“Well, they are right now; the battle hasn’t started yet.” The unicorn shifted uncomfortably in his spot. His mind wandered to his old friends, about to go head to head with the Unicornian army, and without the luxury of the protection that he had. Time for a change in subject.

“Deadeye, Lead Hooves, knock it off,” he said into his mic.

“Sorry Commander,” the other voice in his ear said. The earth pony who sat next to him glanced over quizzically before speaking.

“Commander, are you as worried about us as you are about your old squad?”

“I’m not worried,” the unicorn said. This was false. He was worried, but he was also in charge, and right now he didn’t need to be passing any of his concerns to his underlings. He had never been a good liar or even a liar at all, so he hoped that it was convincing enough.

“Well Commander, you are the most worried looking “not worried” pony I’ve ever seen.” Darn, he wasn’t as convincing as he hoped he was after all. The earth pony noticed the unicorn’s annoyance and grinned. “So, are you as worried about us as you are about your old squad?”

“No.”

“Any reason?”

“Because I know where you are and how you’re doing.”

“Oh, I thought it was because of our steel box.”

Deadeye did bring up a solid point, with emphasis on solid. The unicorn looked down at the thing that they rode upon, a giant assembly of metal upon metal that noisily rode forward across the dewy morning field. It was a near perfect combination of the protection of thick armor, the firepower of artillery and machine guns, and the mobility of the cavalry units. In summary, it was the future.

From where the unicorn sat it did seem perfect. It’s innovative endless track system that went over the wheels allowed it to traverse the soft ground, and do it quickly. The turret that he sat in could bring a 6 pounder cannon, machine gun, and a flamethrower to bear on any target in seconds, and the thing did it all while he and the crew sat safe behind 50 mm of armor. Once they stepped down in and closed the hatch, they would be almost completely invulnerable.

“Yeah, ‘The Flyer’ helps too,” he replied.

“Can’t believe that you named our tank after your old newspaper,” Deadeye said with no small amount of disappointment. “You could’ve named our tank something awesome, like ‘Pain’ or ‘Death Incarnate’, and you name it after... a newspaper.”

“Oh! What about ‘Fury’?” the comms squawked again as Lead-Hooves chimed in. “That’s a good name for a tank, right?”

“Better than naming it for a newspaper.”

“Yeah, definitely.”

The commander clicked back onto the comms with a sly grin. “Maybe I don’t worry about you two as much as my old squad because I don’t like you as much as them.”

Deadeye looked over with an exaggerated pout. “Commander, that hurts, all our time together- ”

“Doesn’t matter if you don’t like the name,” the commander said, eager to rib them on. “My old squad would like the name.”

“I like the name,” the headset interjected. “I just wish it was cooler is all.”

“Thanks Lead, you’re still in my good books.”

“Suck up.”

“Hey!”

The commander looked off ahead into the fog, quickly slipping from reality and into his thoughts, or in this case memories. The cheerful ribbing, the fog, it all reminded him of his first day in combat. Did Deadeye and Lead really know what they were about to do, what they were about to see? He remembered that he couldn’t even imagine what it would be like, how they talked about it around the campfire on that damp morning at the Galloping Gorge and tried to think of what it would be like but couldn’t. How the shells started falling and the war became real. He reacted though, he did his job, all of them did.

But that wasn’t true, two of them didn’t, and they died. The commander thought about his two subordinates. How would they react? Would they function, or shut down? It was a thought that occasionally graced his mind before, but now with the battle close at hoof he began to worry. If they couldn’t function, either of them, they could all die.

“Hey Commander, got an apple!?”

He turned left again to a waiting Deadeye who had a hoof extended to him. the commander nodded and reached into his saddlebags, pulling an apple from his rations and hoofing it over. Deadeye took a large bite, then tossed it over the front of the turret. “Incoming!”

Over the rumbling of the engine the Commander heard a yelp of pain. “Direct hit!” Deadeye shouted. The comms squawked back on. “Celestia! Deadeye, you jerk, I thought that was a grenade! Can you hit him for me, Commander? Please!?” The Commander obliged, swinging a hoof into the back of Deadeyes head.

“Ow.”

“You earned it, jerk,” the driver said bitterly through the comms.

“I gave you an apple.”

“You threw it at my head!”

“… You still got an apple.”

They abruptly fell silent, letting the rumbling of the engine fill the empty noise. The commander thanked the Ordnance Department for rubberized road-wheels. He had heard infantry tanks before, they squealed.

“Is it usually this boring?”

The Commander turned over to Deadeye, a look of disgust on his face. “Boring?” Deadeye leaned away from the commander’s glare slightly. “Do you want it to get exciting?”

“Not particularly Commander, but I was expecting it to be more interesting than this.”

“Give it a few minutes, and it’ll be interesting, and I’ll guarantee you that you’ll wish it was boring.”

Deadeye nodded understandingly, but as the commander looked into his eyes he could see that he didn’t. “But is it usually this boring?”

The commander sighed. “Yes, it usually is. Nothing happens for a long time, but whenever it does, you miss the nothing.”

“Hey Commander, how much longer?” Lead-Hoof asked. The commander looked at his foreleg at the one standard piece of equipment that all TC’s had, a watch courtesy of General of the Calvary Clockwork Engine. It was 5:03.

“It’s time. Button up.”

“Do we have to?” Deadeye whined.

“Yeah.” The commander looked down into the machine; he didn’t want to go down either, but he knew that he had to. He slid down onto the padded metal bar that served as his seat, then reached up to grab the hatch. He looked up into the grey fog one last time, at the warm natural light of Celestia’s sun. Then he brought the hatch down.

He slid the metal bar of the hatch lock closed, paying only the slightest of mind to the words on the hatch. IF THIS HATCH IS LOCKED YOU ARE INVUNERABLE, DO NOT COMMAND THE TANK IN BATTLE FROM OUTSIDE. He knew it was right, but at the same time he knew why it was on there. The thing may have outwardly seemed like a perfect war machine but from where he sat it left a lot to be desired.

Not that he had time to linger on the machines faults. He turned to face the rear of the turret and switched the radio on, tuning in to his platoons frequency and listening. Silence so far. He glanced at the .30 Cal that lay stowed across the top of the bulky radio. He hoped that they wouldn’t need it. He looked over to the left of the turret at Deadeye, who was completely obscured by the giant six pounder gun that dominated the center of the turret. He could see his ears though, and that was enough. He reached over the gun and gave the pony a flick.

“Load the co-ax!” Deadeye nodded and went to loading as the Commander quickly checked to see if everything was in order before the battle started. The 57 mm rounds for the cannon were secure in their carriers at the turret rear by the radios and below him. By his head was a bustle of frag and smoke grenades next to the machine gun port. Up front on the side of the turret was a metal carrier of 2 inch smoke and high explosive rounds for the bomb launcher next to the main gun. All was in order, but the commander didn’t care about any of it right now.

At the front, by the bomb launcher, were the items of his concern. Taped to the turret wall were 3 photographs and a small scrawled note, crumpled and stained with water. In one of the pictures was a group of eight earth brown earth ponies and unicorns standing abrest in front of an equestrian flag, each with a weapon in hoove. Below that was a headline. “MIRACLE! EIGHT SOILDERS PUNCH THROUGH ENEMY LINES IN BID FOR SURVIVAL.” Next to it was a picture of two unicorns and a little colt standing outside of a movie theater. Below was a picture of a mare in a shop. It was black and white, but the commander knew her colors by heart, and his mind filled in the gaps. He smiled a little, and looked at the note.

Don’t choose to be someone that you’ll regret being.

Sergeant Manifest Destiny reached forward and tapped the note lightly. “I won’t.”

Manifest looked at his memorabilia nostalgically, then went back to the more pressing matter of getting ready. He leaned back to take a look through his commander’s periscope, and sighed. He may have been safe inside the machine, but he was also mostly blind apart from what he could see through the narrow slit. Luckily he could swivel the periscope, but the fact remained that the entirety of the Unicornian army could be just 50 feet outside of his constrained view. Of course, right now the entire Unicornian army could be 50 feet to his direct front and he wouldn’t know either. The fog was so thick that all he could see was a green blur at the bottom of his vision that marked the turret, then nothing but grey.

In fact, it was too thick. The commander tapped his horn to the glass and started putting magic into it, heating it up slightly. He looked again. The periscope was now clear, meaning that he could at least see the top of the turret clearly. “Deadeye! Check your sights! Can you see anything!”

“No! Not a darn thing commander!” Manifest made a mental note to add heated periscopes and gunsights to the list of complaints as he put a hoof on the top of the gun and pushed the breach down. He leaned over the gun to Deadeyes half of the tank and heated his periscope, then leaned down and did the same for the gun sight. “Thanks.” The commander returned to his half, and looked through his periscope again. The fog was still there, but the ground had changed to a brown of dirt.

The radio rumbled on with a buzz of static in his ears. “Third platoon, check in.”

“Sure-Shot, standing by.”

The commander clicked on his comms. “Manifest standing by.”

“Alright, button up if you haven’t already, we’re close. Remember the plan, and keep on this frequency if anything goes awry.” The voice cut off. Manifest took one last look around at where everything was. He had to know by heart, because in a few minutes he was either going to be a very busy pony, or a very dead one.

‘You’re not gonna die,’ Manifest thought to himself. ‘The Unicornians have no idea what’s about to come out of this fog, and they aren’t gonna be able to beat our armor. Everypony knows that… but they don’t know that, they just think that. The Unicornians may be able to bust tanks with such ease that we’ll all be dead the second we break the fog.’ The mental argument that Manifest was having with himself was doing very little to calm his nerves.

“Third platoon, the cavalry tanks are reporting that they have contact with the enemy lines. The fog did not hold and surprise was not achieved. Once we break the fog bank put your tanks parallel to the trenches and wait for artillery support. Copy?”

“Copy.”

“Copy,” Manifest said, immediately switching to the interior comms. “Deadeye, Lead-hoove, The Duke said that the fog didn’t hold and that we didn’t achieve surprise, so be ready for a firefight. Lead, once we break this fog swing us around left and halt once we’re parallel to their trenches. Deadeye, you traverse right and wait on me to call targets. Copy?”

“Copy, Commander.”

“Yeah, I got it.”

Manifest looked back through the periscope. It was the same. A moonscape of craters that the machine rode up and down that quickly disappeared into the pale grey. They were close, and he knew it, but he had no knowing of how. The fog ahead flashed yellow, and Manifest found himself not tensing up, but relaxing. They were at least close enough to see the flashes of friendly fire. The fog lit up again, periodically, but growing in volume and intensity. Manifest wished that he could hear to get an idea of how far the explosions were, but the rumbling of the engine made that an impossibility.

The fog was thinning out now, the grey lifting by the second, the flashes of gunfire increasing. A few bright yellow streaks flew out of the fog, quickly whizzing out of Manifests limited field of vision. ‘Tracers,’ Manifest thought, quickly doing a little bit of mental math. They were within 1500 yards at most based on an Mgs range. Good. The flashes in the thinning fog persisted.

The grey was changing, reflecting the warm yellow of the sun as the fog thinned and the light began to break through. Shadows emerged and as Manifest’s machine moved forward he could watch them become cavalry tanks, turned parallel with the trenches he knew were ahead to shelter the ponies behind. A low hill that flashed with fire appeared in the distance, behind the earthworks that appeared. The fog had dissolved into a thin mist.

“Lead, anytime now.” Manifest said into his receiver. The tank jerked beneath him, and quickly the small slit of vision that he had panned left quickly, the trenches ahead being rapidly replaced by more of the Equestrian tanks. Abruptly the tank stopped. “Deadeye, bring it around.”

With a whirr the hydraulics kicked in, and Manifest’s view began to pan back right. In his periphery, he could see the floor of the tank turning beneath him as his seat moved with the turret. He focused back on his scope.

“Deadeye, enemy machine gun nest at one o’clock, 700 yards!” Manifest said as he moved back from the scope and grabbed a HE shell from stowage. He fed the tip into the gun’s breech and threw it in, the gun closing with a solid ‘thunk’. He hit a small button on the side of the gun to indicate he had loaded.

“AWAY!” Deadeye yelled, and the gun went off. A muted quick ‘boom’ echoed through the tiny space as the breach jumped backward. Manifest yanked down on a lever on the side of the breach and it slid open, ejecting the brass cartridge onto the floor with a noisy clang and a puff of smoke. “ONE MORE!” yelled Deadeye. Manifest was already grabbing up the next round from the ready rack and preparing to ram it in as his gunner called out, repeating the action and hitting the indicator button. “AWAY!”

The gun went off again, rocking the tank with its recoil as the breech rocked backwards and then halted. Manifest pulled the lever down again, filling the cramped space with more putrid smoke as the cartridge ejected. “TARGET ELIMINATED!” Deadeye shouted. Manifest swiveled in his seat back to the periscope, silently cursing the machine’s design. There was no way that he was going to be able to command effectively when he was spending most of his time loading the gun.

He looked into the periscope at the field, and in the space of the seconds that had passed the field had changed. Small clouds of dirt dotted the trenches ahead, more erupting into existence as yellow streaks of rounds arched their way from Equestrian cannons into the dug in positions. The trenches flashed furiously with rifle fire, but none of it seemed directed towards Manifest’s tank. For a second he was lost in the spectacle, then he composed himself, looking for another target to bring the gun onto.

Abruptly the tank jumped beneath him, throwing him into the lens of the scope. Manifest war gripped with sheer panic, ‘Celestia, we’re hit!’ He looked around the cabin turret wildly for the damage, but everything seemed fine. They weren’t hit.

“The hay was that?” he heard Deadeye yell into the comms. The tank rocked again, and Manifest could hear a muffled explosion from outside. Manifest realized the answer, and hit the transmit button.

“They’re shelling us! Lead, if it gets too heavy get us out of here! Head for their trenches, we’ll be out of their fire there.” Manifest immediately realized that they would get out of the Unicornian’s artillery, but if they charged the trenches they would drive right into their own fire. they were stuck between a rock and a hard place. “Wait, Belay that!”

“You want us to just sit here!?” Leads voice said into his ear in disbelief.

“Yes, our armor can take it!” Manifest responded, not sure if he was telling the truth. He hoped that his bluff worked on his crew as he looked back into the periscope. The trenches ahead still flashed with fire, the suppressing fire from the Equestrian tanks not enough to convince the Unicornians that life was precious. There wasn’t a good target to pick. “Switch to the co-ax! Put their heads down!”

The turret turned slightly, and then the turret was filled with the rapid fire rattling bams of the coaxial and the pinging of the shell casings on the metal floor. He could follow the rounds path out of the gun, curving down until they hit the ground right before the trench, kicking up spurts of dust. The turret traversed, putting rounds across the front of the trench as it went and putting Unicornian heads down as they dived away from the incoming fire.

The tank hadn’t shaken with the impact of artillery for a few seconds. Manifest didn’t know why they stopped firing, but he didn’t question it. What he did know was that it was a temporary reprieve at best, and if they were still here when it started again he didn’t like their chances.

Trench kept looking through the scope, each second that they sat immobile becoming more nerve wracking than the last. ‘Where the hay is-‘

His thought was interrupted as the ground around the trenches began exploding upward, and The Flyer was rocked with the reports of multiple explosions. Manifest had seen it before, but the sheer volume of fire that the Equestrian artillery was capable of still amazed him. Only seconds had passed and already the trench had disappeared into a thick cloud of dust, the explosions happening so rapidly it sounded like one continuous roar. The tank shook like it was sitting five feet from a passing train, the artillery quaking the earth.

The explosions of dirt ceased but the artillery didn’t, the shells now exploding above the trenches and raining shrapnel down. “Holy…” Manifest turned over to Deadeye, who was transfixed on the sight in his periscope.

“Wow,” said Lead, in the understatement of the year. Manifest wanted to share in their awe, but the fact that they were still sitting there in the open watching an artillery barrage was becoming a preview of their own fate if they didn’t move. Seconds before he was waiting for it to start, and now he was praying for it to end.

There was a blinding flash behind the dust cloud ahead, and the tank nearly leaped into the air, throwing Manifest into the periscope once more and nearly knocking him out of his seat. For a second Manifest feared the worst, that the Unicornian’s were commencing their own barrage, then the comms erupted with chatter from the two crewmates. “HOLY CELESTIA, THAT WAS AWESOME!!” Deadeye yelled euphorically. The normally reserved Lead-Hoove was cheering wildly. Manifest scrambled back up to the periscope to see what had happened.

Towering even above the cloud from the barrage was a gargantuan pillar of smoke and dust, slowly expanding into the heavens even as clumps of earth fell from above, trailing dust like the tails of comets. Manifest couldn’t see the entirety of the explosions remnants through the periscope, having to shift in his seat to see the top of the cloud.

“THAT’S IT, WAR’S OVER!!!” Dead-eye yelled, quickly lapsing into laughter. “L-Look at that!!!” he said through his fit, “There isn’t anypony left to fight!!”

The statement snapped Manifest out of his stupor. “Yes there is,” he said flatly, and in the cabin and on the comms the laughter cut out at his voice. Manifest flicked the radio back to the platoons frequency, then returned to his periscope. No new rounds had fallen since the explosion.

The radio crackled on. “Third platoon, advance at trotting speed and resume the plan.”

Manifest flicked to the intercom. “Lead, right 90 degrees and then advance at trotting speed.”

The tank lurched beneath him as the engine grumbled back from its rest, and turned to face the dust cloud from the barrage ahead. The low grumbling of the engine was complemented by the high pitched whine of the hydraulics as the turret rotated back to the front.

Slowly the tank began moving towards the dust cloud, towering above them ominously. Out ahead of them he could see the cavalry tanks advancing, the cavalry troop advancing bunched up behind them, hiding from gunfire that wasn’t coming. The poor ponies would be in the trenches soon, ponies like Repeater, and Cold and Joe, and Muddy Ruts and Bloody Guts, and Longshot. ‘Celestia, keep them safe,’ he prayed silently.

“Are we gonna help them?” Lead asked over the radio. Somepony shared Manifest’s concern. Manifest moved to answer, but Dead-eye beat him to the punch.

“Do you want to win the battle, or the war?”

“Deadeye’s right, we have to stick to the plan.”

“So we’re just going to leave them?” Lead asked, his voice tinted with sadness that was unmistakable, even though the static of the intercoms.

“They have cavalry tanks, they won’t be without support.”

“I know, I just feel bad not helping.”

“We’ll help them,” Manifest said reassuringly. Ahead the cavalry tanks were fading into the dust, and Manifest’s view range dropped until he could hardly see past the front of the tank. The tank kept inching forward, far too slow for his liking. He felt like any second the Unicornian’s would open up the sky with their artillery, and no amount of armor was protection against 250 pounds of explosive.

Out of the dust came a muted boom and flash, followed by more. Manifest was beginning to be able to pick out what the different tones of explosions meant. The ground didn’t shake with the booms like it would with artillery impact, so it had to be the cavalry tanks. Out of the gloom ahead a cavalry tank reappeared, it’s turret facing sideways and its co-ax blazing away as it straddled a trench.

The Flyer pulled up along the side of the tank that the turret wasn’t facing, and Manifest braced as the front of the tank pitched down into the trench. He was thrown forward as it hit the trench back, then The Flyer climbed over and out the other side. A wave of relief washed over him. Finally they were in the Unicornian’s positions and safe from their artillery. More than that, they were finally able to do their job. He got on the radio.

“Lead, open her up!”

The tank lurched beneath him as the engine’s low contented grumble grew into a roar, pausing for a second as Lead changed gears. As the tank accelerated, the uneven ground that they rode over pitched their tank up and down like a ship at sea, but Manifest kept his head pressed against the periscope despite the bucking. His visibility was still reduced to only a few unclear feet past the front of the tank, and it occurred to him that if something came out of the dust ahead he would only have enough time to realize his mistake before he and his crew either pulverized or were pulverized by whatever they hit. He couldn’t order them to slow down, though. Once they passed the first trench and successfully got the squad that trailed them across the field they had to move as fast as they could, or the whole plan could unravel.

Suddenly Manifest saw a dark blur in the cloud ahead, low to the ground. Before he could identify it or even warn his crew to brace the Flyer jolted hard beneath him as they impacted it. for a second Manifest was terrified that they had ran into another tank or a bunker, but as quickly as it had happened it was over, and the Flyer kept moving at its fast clip.

“What was that?” Deadeye asked in alarm, despite the fact that whatever it was no longer posed a threat as they sped away from it.

“Another trench,” said Lead quickly, not in the mood for talking as he focused on steering The Flyer forward.

The dust outside grew thinner, letting more of the morning light through. They were reaching the end. Abruptly the cloud ceased, and The Flyer burst through it and into the open morning, still trailing plumes of the light brown cloud behind it. They were still driving through some craters from the barrages, but just ahead the ground leveled out into untouched and unkempt grass. Beyond that, in the distance, Manifest could see tan tents set up. The Unicornian rear positions. They would be there in two minutes, give or take.

“Deadeye, get rid of the casings.” Manifest ordered. He swiveled the periscope to the left, relieved to see that flanking him were more of the tanks, all charging full bore along with them.

“Third platoon, are you still combat effective?”

“Affirmitive.”

“Affirmitive.”

“Guide onto the tank flying the green and gold flag. We’re going to clear out the trenches for the Airborne and then move on to the primary objective. Stay close to me, and keep an eye on each other and the co-ax ready for any clingers.”

“Copy,” Manifest said, swiveling the periscope looking for the flag. One in three of the tanks that were thundering across the field were flying a banner, and Manifest quickly found the platoon leader’s just ahead to the left. They were positioned well to cover him.

He reached to the ready rack and pulled out a shell. This one didn’t have a pointed end like the last, instead having the brass of the shell go the full length of the round, and end with a flat face. It looked like a large cylinder. The round made a soft rattle as he hefted it up to the breach, a small reminder of what it was. On the side of the shell it was stenciled “CANISTER.”

Inside the shell were 200 small metal balls. It was in essence the largest shotgun shell ever made. He threw it in and the breechd closed with a heavy thunk as Manifest hit the indicator. He reached up to the bomb launcher and broke it open, levitating up a smoke round and putting it in before snapping it shut. He went back up to his periscope.

It hadn’t even been a minute, but they were already markedly closer, the black lines of barbed wire and the small raise in the ground that signaled the enemy’s second trench system now visible. Manifest got onto the intercom.

“Alright, Lead, keep the Flyer going full speed until we get to their trench, then I want you to stop and straddle it. Deadeye, when we’re almost there swing this turret left and then fire into the trench, we gotta get as many as we can so we can clear the way for the airborne. Lead, as soon as we’re done with that, get us out of there and head west until we find their artillery. Watch our buddies and call out if you see any trouble. Copy?”

“Copy Commander.”

“Yep.”

Manifest took one last quick look to the sides, making sure The Flyer was abreast with all the others, and then he brought the periscope back to the front. They were closing the distance rapidly, maybe a half mile away now. Manifest felt a bit of unease. It seemed too easy. “Why aren’t you firing?” he muttered.

Almost as if by command, the trenches ahead began flashing, and he was able to watch as the first tracer round flew out from the trench and curved through the air towards him, finally hitting The Flyer with a puff of smoke and a cascade of sparks. Hundreds of rounds followed it, all pinging off of the steel armor harmlessly. Inside it sounded like a heavy rain falling against a glass window, and the bullets that threw themselves against the armor concerned Manifest about as much.

The Flyer kept barreling forward along with 89 of its brothers through the enemy fire unimpeded, and as the tank weathered the barrage of bullets with nothing to show for it Manifests fears went away. If the enchantments in the armor held, there was nothing that the Unicornians could do to stop them. The inscription on the hatch was right. They were invulnerable.

The Flyer crashed through the first barbed wire fence, not even slowing as the wire was smashed into the ground and snapped. They were still hundreds of yards out, but at the rate they were moving they would be upon them in seconds.

“Should I suppress?” Deadeye asked over the radio.

“Hold fire,” Manifest said. They needed to be point blank for the canister shell to do it’s worst, and the Unicornians weren’t able to stop them from getting there. The fire from the trenches slowed as the Unicornians paused to reload their expended magazines, allowing Manifest to see their distinctive 3-point silhouettes. They were close.

“Bring it around!” With a whine the turret began rotating left, bringing the other tanks on the field into his vision, their turrets traversing as well. The tank began decelerating, making Manifest put a hoof against the turret wall to brace against the force. The tank coasted the final few yards to the trench, pitching down as the ground fell out from beneath it, then back up as the treads grabbed the earth and pulled the tank back up before stopping. The tank was bridging the trenches, the gun pointing down it’s length at the Unicornians.

Manifest could see everything at this range. Some of them were desperately attempting to reload their rifles, others were desperately firing them, shooting without aiming as fast as they could, their faces filled with terror as their bullets bounced off harmlessly. Manifest saw one throw down his rifle and dive for a dugout, the one closest scurrying under the tank. Manifest froze. With one word he could end them all, but his mouth couldn’t say it. They couldn’t hurt him, they weren’t a threat. He remembered the note that he taped to the turret. He didn’t want to be a killer. His body trembled at the thought. For a moment, less than a second, Manifest couldn’t do it.

Then he remembered his responsibilities, and the moment ended.

“FIRE!”

“AWAY!”

The cannon roared, and 200 steel ball bullets flew out and into the trench. The muzzle flash obscured Manifests view mercifully, and the dust kicked up by the report and by the rounds impact in the dirt concealed the deadly results of the canister shell as the ricocheting bullets flew down the trench at thousands of feet per second. The co-ax roared to life as Manifest turned away from the periscope and opened the breach, ejecting the spent casing with a plume of smoke. He grabbed a second canister shell out of the rack and fed it into the gun. Next to him the co-ax fell silent. Manifest hit the indicator.

“Fire!”

The familiar reply of ‘Away!’ didn’t come, and the cannon sat silent. Deadeye must not have heard him. “FIRE!” Manifest shouted again louder. Deadeye still didn’t respond. “Deadeye?” Manifest asked, quieter, looking up over the top of the gun. All he could see were Deadeyes ears and his beret, sitting perfectly still. Dead still. “DEADEYE!” Manifest shouted, the concern that he felt echoed in his yell. The co-ax could have misfired and killed him and Manifest wouldn’t have even noticed.

“Celestia.”

Deadeye’s voice came in over the radio, weak and quiet, all the usual bravado gone. Manifest was terrified now. Something was horribly wrong.

“Deadeye, are you hit?!” A dozen possibilities went through his mind. Maybe the Unicornians had a gun that could go through the armor and hit him. Maybe the co-ax blew up while he fired it. He looked to the turret floor, looking for blood, or flesh.

“Look at it.” Dead-eye said.

Manifest could tell that Dead-eye was looking through his scope, and Manifest moved to look through his. This had happened before. Even as he put his eyes up to the glass he knew what sight awaited him, and he knew what had happened to Deadeye.

Through the clearing dust in the trench before him were the shredded bodies of Unicornian soldiers. The ones that were closest, the ones that he could see the best, were unrecognizable as ponies. The close range blast of the canister shell reduced them to maroon mush. Farther off they began to regain their form, but their wounds were all too prominent. They looked down a trench choked with bodies, and the sight was only too familiar. As the other tanks roared to life outside and moved away from the decimated trench Manifest waited for Deadeye to react.

“I can’t do it,” Deadeye said, backing away from the scope. “I won’t do it.”

Before Manifest could respond the radio cackled to life. “Manifest, respond, why aren’t you mobile?”

“Crew troubles Duke, give it a minute. Out.” Manifest switched the receiver off before his platoon leader could respond. He didn’t need another voice in his head while he tried to help his gunner.

“Deadeye, you have to, at least until the battle’s up. They need us.”

“No Sergeant, I can’t do it,” Deadeye said it with sincerity and seriousness, two words that had never described his sentences. Manifest could tell by his tone that he meant it.

“Hay,” Manifest muttered to himself as he thought. The Flyer needed to be operational, needed to be doing it’s mission and helping to win the battle, and it needed a gunner to do that. Manifest leaned his head back against the turret wall and sighed. Should he force Deadeye to do his job? Immediately Manifest felt revulsion. He wouldn’t do that, and even if he would he didn’t know how he could. Manifest almost moved to turn the radio back on and report that he was combat ineffective, but he didn’t. They were needed, and he wouldn’t run from the battle. But he needed a gunner that he no longer had. ‘What would Repeater do?’ Manifest thought.

The relative silence was interrupted by a cackle on the intercom. “Sergeant? Orders? Everypony’s driven off,” Lead asked. Manifest knew that he had been listening to everything based on his worried tone. He had to do something, and now.

“Hold here for a moment Lead,” he ordered. “Deadeye, the Duke and Sure Shot need us out there, and for us to help we need you. Do you hear me, I need you.”

“To what, waste more ponies? Buck that! If you want them dead, you kill them! I’m keeping my hooves clean!”

“Dead-eye, if we don’t get going-“

“SERGEANT!” Lead yelled, his loud voice blasting into Manifest’s and Deadeye’s ear. “ENEMY TO THE LEFT!” To Lead’s left was were the turret was facing, so Manifest quickly looked through his periscope. The one unicorn that had dived into the dugout had come back out, standing just outside of the entrance looking at his fallen comrades in shock. He carried no weapons, and looked too devastated to be a threat. Slowly his gaze turned to The Flyer, the gun still pointed down the trench toward him. The Unicorn stumbled away from the cannons aim back into the safety of his dugout, almost tripping on the bodies as he fled.

“Celestia, look at him.” Dead-eye said with sorrow. “We murdered all his buddies, Sergeant. I can’t murder pony’s buddies.”

Manifest backed away from the periscope in resignation. He knew that after seeing that Deadeye wasn’t going to pull the trigger, and there was no way that he was going to be able to convince him to. “Alright Deadeye, we’re pulling out.” He turned around to turn the radios receiver back on.

“Guys!” Lead exclaimed. Manifest turned back to the periscope quickly. The unicorn that had stumbled back into his dugout had come back out, a brace of grenades in his hoof and another on his back. There was fury in his eyes as he glared at The Flyer, and his horn lit up with magic that bathed the grenades.

“Deadeye!” Manifest said urgently.

“He can’t hurt us,” Dead-eye replied, his voice detached from the situation even as every pin on the Unicornians brace pulled simultaneously. If those grenades landed on the engine deck Manifest didn’t know if Deadeye would be correct, and he only had a fraction of a second to react. Manifest reached forward and yanked the trigger on the bomb-launcher.

The Unicornian was in mid-throw when the smoke launcher fired, the round flying low and ricocheting off of one of the corpses and back up into him, knocking him off balance. The Unicornian fell into the growing cloud of smoke, his brace falling from his hoof and disappearing. Manifest sat frozen, staring at the slowly growing cloud. From outside there was a loud firecracker bang and flash in the smoke, and then a ragged limb flew out from the cloud, landing on the ground a few yards to the left. Manifest relaxed subconsciously, his shoulders dropping and a breath he didn’t know he held escaping his mouth.

“You just killed that guy.”

Manifest nodded, though nopony could see it. “Yes, yes I did.” Manifest turned back to the radio, his eyes skimming over the cannon. He stopped, and looked back at it. “Deadeye, can you load?”

“What?”

“Can you load the cannon?”

Deadeyes response was uncertain. “Y-yes?”

“Alright, switch spots with me.”

“Why?”

“If you won’t shoot that cannon then I will, but I need you to load.”

“I don’t want to do it.”

Abruptly Manifest lost his temper. “Darn it Deadeye! You don’t want to kill ponies and if you load you won’t have to, but if you don’t load that gun I’ll take you back to the base and have you court martialed and arrested! Load the gun, that’s an order!”

Manifest heard Deadeye shuffle, and then he crawled under the gun to Manifests position, crowding the already cramped side of the turret, he crawled toward the front, giving Manifest more room. Manifest reached to the radio and switched the receiver back on.

“Duke, Manifest. The Flyer is back in action. Give a position and we’ll get there, over.” Manifest crawled under the gun and into the gunners seat, looking at the controls. The telescopic sight was just behind the periscope, running parallel to the cannon. To Manifest’s direct right was the heavy rubber shoulder pad attached to the gun shield. Beneath that were the two triggers, one for the co-ax, and one for the cannon. Manifest nodded to no one. ‘Piece of cake.’ He turned to the radio and shut off his transmitter, only having to reach a little to do it.

“Lead Hoove, let’s get going. Advance forward, see if we can’t catch up.” The tank rumbled back to life as Manifest looked through the periscope. They were still looking at the trench, and Manifest quickly turned away from the sight of the bodies, looking for the hydraulic traverse controls. He found them, a small handle to his left, and pulled it to the right, turning the turret away from the carnage of the trench and towards the fires that lay west.

The tank jerked forward as the tracks caught, and pitched up as the back of the tank went over the trench wall, but as it came back down onto the level ground the engine surged, and the tank accelerated smoothly deeper into Unicornian territory. Manifest hefted the back of the cannon up and slid his shoulder into the shoulder pad, putting a hoof through the trigger guards and looking back through the periscope. They were now just outside the Unicornians tent city, or what remained of it. The tents burned furiously, set ablaze by the flamethrowers of the tanks that had gone before them. They needed to catch up.

The Flyer entered the conflagration, the heavy smoke of the flames dulling their visibility to only a few feet. Manifest was tempted to order Lead to drive right through the burning tents, but knew that if they got a canvas on their tank they’d be blind, and almost certainly vulnerable to being swarmed. Manifest looked down at the ground in front of the tank, the only place that he could see with any clarity. Furrowed into the ground were two gashes like a pair of plows had run through it. “Lead, follow those tracks.”

“Copy,” Lead answer crisply. Thank Celestia he hadn’t been the one to break. He was in a separate compartment. If he was rendered unable to drive, nopony would be going home.

“Manifest! Where the hay are you at?” The Dukes voice was so loud in Manifest’s ear that he could have been sitting next to him. He almost reached behind him to his left before he caught himself. The radio wasn’t there anymore. “MANIFEST!”

“Deadeye, put the transmitter on,” Manifest ordered.

“I don’t know how, Sergeant.” The statement was dripping with disdain and resistance, but Manifest brushed it off.

“On the radio, second knob from the left, turn it clockwise.” Manifest waited for the tell-tale burst of static that would accompany the transmitter being switched on. The radio cackled tellingly. “Just left the trenches, Duke, heading through the tent city to the rear.”

“Fighting’s pretty heavy where we are Manifest, so I need-” the Duke’s response was punctuated by a loud boom. “One o’clock! Co-ax! Manifest, get your tank back here darn it!” The radio clicked off as the co ax rattled, cutting the sound of its burst short.

“Lead, get us there as fast as you can,” Manifest ordered. “Deadeye, give me a high explosive.”

“How?” Deadeye asked again, still simmering with anger at his sergeant. He knew full well how to reload the gun but right now Manifest didn’t want to be fighting his crew, not when they were already about to get back into a fight with ponies who were ready to kill them.

“Pull that lever down, grab the shell with the pointed end and throw it in, then hit that little button on the side of the gun.” Manifest could feel the tug of the cannon as the breech went down, and with a heavy clang the unfired canister shell fell to the floor. The gun shifted as Deadeye fed the new round in and rammed it home, jostling Manifest in his seat. A small red light popped on, and the gun was ready.

“Good job,” Manifest said as he checked the co-ax’s ammunition. Deadeye snorted into the radio his reply. The co-ax was basically full. Good. Manifest looked back through the periscope, readying himself for contact. As they careened through the burning tents Manifest listened for gunfire, or any clue where the enemy was, but the steady rumble of the engine drowned out any sounds from outside.

He couldn’t see through the billowing smoke of the blazes around him, and he couldn’t see the Unicornians in the tank’s path until it was right on top of them. Manifest tightened his hoof on the trigger of the co-ax as he raised himself up, depressing the gun. By the time he had brought it down, the Unicornian cooks that were hurriedly trying to douse the nearest tent had already leapt away from the tanks path. Manifest let his hoof off the trigger. If he had quicker reflexes, he would have killed them where they stood. Manifest backed off from the periscope. He almost blew away a bunch of cooks.

If the war would give him the time, he would have thought about what had just happened. But The Flyer didn’t stop, and they still headed towards a battle that could be just seconds away. Manifest reduced his thoughts on what he had nearly done to a simple ‘Identify targets before I engage,’ then went back to the sights.

They were still in the smoke, amongst the tents. Manifest kept up his guard though, any second they could break out and back into the battle. He thought that he saw a few silhouettes in the cloud, but he kept his hoof away from the trigger, and they disappeared before he could see them better. The smoke thickened as they drove by another fire, the cabin darkening as the smoke let less and less light through the periscope. It was dark outside now, almost as if the morning hadn’t come. Slowly the light began to grow outside, the near black turning to grey, the visibility improving. And then, abruptly, The Flyer burst through the smoke cloud into the open field, and back into the battle.

Manifest gave himself maybe a second to determine the situation that they had driven into, any longer and they’d be in trouble. They had just driven into an open field, at the other end just a few hundred yards away he could see the friendly tanks that had moved on without him, all parked and aiming his way. Behind them he could see smoke and dust, and more importantly the silhouettes of Unicornian cannons. Thank Celestia, as long as the Unicornian cannons were out of the battle, the Cavalry wouldn’t be getting shelled and they had done their jobs. With the cannons dealt with, Manifest looked for the Unicornian soldiers. He didn’t have to look hard.

Hardly 20 feet in front of him, a group of Unicornians were lying down on the ground steadily pouring optimistic but ineffective fire into the Equestrian tanks ahead. Two of them turned to face the threat that had just roared out of the smoke behind them, and were already reaching for their grenade satchels. Manifest pushed up on the cannons shoulder-pad and quickly put his eye to the gun sights. The Flyer was still moving, and Manifests field of vision shifted wildly as he brought the gun down, but the second he saw grey in the gunsights he pulled the trigger for the cannon. The tank shook as his view changed from green to brown in a flash of light.

“DEADEYE! CANISTER!” Manifest yelled as he immediately traversed the turret to the left. “LEAD, 90 DEGREES LEFT!” he had a suspicion, and needed to confirm it as quickly as possible. The tank heaved beneath him, and he braced himself up against the cannon to stay balanced. He backed up from the gun sight to the periscope again and looked. One glance was all he needed. Along the back of the Unicornian tent city and at the edge of the field the Unicornians had set up positions, firing a wall of rounds into the Equestrian tanks.

There was no way their rifles would be able to damage the tanks, but the tanks weren’t what Manifest was concerned about. As long as they held the ground, the battle wasn’t over. He aimed the gun in their general direction, and pulled the trigger on the co-ax. The gun roared loudly, spraying rounds into the Unicornians at the edge of the field, through the periscope he couldn’t aim the gun well, only able to point the tracers in their general direction. He couldn’t tell if he was scoring any hits, but scoring hits wasn’t his main goal. He let up off the gun. “Lead, parallel their lines, and don’t stop for anything. Deadeye, where’s that canister shell?”

Manifest felt the gun shake beneath him as Deadeye operated the breach, and fired the co-ax again. The flashing of rifle fire on behalf of the Unicornians kept up, but judging by the sparks on the tank and the return of the pattering sound of bullets off the armor Manifest was having the effect he wanted. As long as they were shooting his tank, they were distracted. The little red light on the gun flashed, and Manifest pulled the trigger, firing the cannon into their lines again. “Keep them coming Deadeye.”

“Manifest, is that your tank!” The Dukes voice asked through the headset, a mixture of anger, confusion, and disbelief. Manifest almost asked Deadeye to switch the transmitter on, before remembering that he could do it himself, he leaned back and with a quick burst of magic flicked the receiver back on.

“Yes Duke, that’s our tank,” Manifest said, rattling off a burst with the co-ax.

“What in Celestia’s name are you doing!”

“Distracting them! If they’re focused on me they aren’t focused on you!”

“You’re going to get cut to pieces!”

“My armor will hold!”

“The Hay it will! Manifest, you-” Manifest shut the radio off, cutting The Duke off mid-sentence. If he went back there with the rest of them, the Unicornians could bunker down out of their shots and still hold their ground. Right now he was keeping them occupied, but keeping them occupied wasn’t going to dislodge them. The red light popped on again, and Manifest pulled the trigger instantly.

If he didn’t have to focus on aiming and firing the guns he could have thought more about the situation, and come up with a plan, but right now all that he could do was keep the barrels hot. He fired the co-ax every time he saw an enemy cross in front of the gun, and fired the cannon every time the indicator showed that he had a round in.

The co-ax stopped firing, and Manifest quickly checked the gun. It was out. He opened the bridge and levitated out another box of rounds, slotting it on and putting the first round on the tray. He threw the bridge closed and pulled the charging handle back, and moved to look back through the periscope.

Just as he looked back through it, a beam of orange light flashed out of the Unicornian positions straight at the tank. Before he could react or even process what it was the beam hit with another flash, this one nearly blinding him. The inside of the tank rang like a bell hit with a sledgehammer from the force of the impact.

“What was that?!” Dead-eye yelled out. They weren’t dead, and as Manifest looked about the cabin there didn’t seem to be any damage. Another loud gong reverberated throughout the tank as Manifest got back onto the periscope and looked out. Another beam of light flew from among the burning tents, and Manifest looked to the source as the light impacted with another gong. It was a ways off, and obscured by the smoke a little, but Manifest could see the silver glint of steel at the source, too small to be a tank or a cannon. It was a mage. Manifest hit the traverse, swinging the turret around to face the threat.

“Sergeant, what is it?”

“It’s a mage, just keep loading the cannon,” Manifest said as the turret finally lined up with where the mage stood. Manifest snapped the shot, firing just as soon as the cannon looked like it was pointing in the mages direction, but a quick flash at the mages position meant that he had teleported away. Manifest looked for a second flash for where the mage teleported to, but none came. “Where did he go?” Manifest muttered.

There was another flash through the periscope, like lightning through a window, but Manifest couldn’t see a source. Abruptly the tank shook with another sledgehammer gong, this one louder than the last, Manifest rotated the turret again, trying to find out where the incoming was coming from. He still couldn’t find the mage. A bright orange light came through the periscope, like the orange of the burning tent, but he couldn’t see the source of the flame. The turret had traversed all the way around back to the front, and there was no sign of the mage. The tank just wasn’t agile enough to compete.

‘Doesn’t matter’ Manifest decided. ‘There’s nothing that he can do anyway, every spell he’s shot hasn’t done a thing.’ He turned the turret back to the Unicornians tent city to fire again, when Manifest heard another loud bang on the tanks armor, this one almost directly above him. he looked up at the turret roof in surprise. All the other impacts didn’t seem to have a direction, seeming to come from everywhere at once. Manifest noticed that the pattering sound of rifle bullets off of the tanks armor had ceased. There was another loud bang on the armor, and what Manifest saw almost made his heart stop. The hatch just above his head shuddered. Quickly he looked back to the periscope and spun it around to the rear of the turret. Just inches away from the periscope there was a metal clad hoof on the turret.

“EMERGENCY STOP!” Manifest yelled into the intercom as he clutched the periscope tightly. The entire tank shifted beneath him as the tracks clawed the dirt, skidding to a halt. Through the periscope Manifest saw the Mage lose his balance, falling off of the turret to the front. Manifest quickly hit the traverse controls, spinning the turret to face where the mage had fallen. Through the periscope there was another flash of light as the mage teleported again, out of Manifests sights.

“Lead, bring it around 180 degrees and get going!” Manifest said. If they stopped moving, they could be swarmed, and even though the mage was still about and would easily be able to stay with them Manifest wasn’t interested in making his job any easier. It was apparent though that while the mage had yet to do anything to The Flyer, there was no way that they were going to do anything to him in return. Not on their own anyway. Manifest turned back to the radio. If getting chewed out was the price that he had to pay for not having a mage rip off the hatch and incinerate him, he would gladly pay it. He switched the radio back on.

“Duke, I need a hoove here.”

“Manifest! Why the hay have you not been responding!”

“Radio troubles,” Manifest lied hurriedly. He didn’t have time to justify himself to The Duke, not now. “Can you see my tank?”

“Everypony in the army can see your tank.”

“I have a mage on me, so I need you to shoot The Flyer with canister shells.”

The Duke answered with a threatening tone. “That sounded a lot like an order, Manifest.”

Celestia, there was a mage trying to force his way into the tank, and his platoon Commander was worrying about rank. “Lieutenant, I need covering fire!” There was a flash through the periscope, followed almost immediately by a loud bang on the hatch right above Manifests head. “I need your help!”

“Turn that tank around and regroup Manifest. Now.”

The hatch shuddered with another loud blow as the mage beat on it. “Lieutenant!” Manifest yelled as he looked at his options. The only thing that he could use was the spare Machine gun that sat atop the radio, and that was far too big for Manifest to grab and maneuvered in the small cabin. The hatch shook again above him.

“Regroup Manifest, that’s an order.” The hatch jolted upwards, the metal bar that kept the hatch closed bending, but still holding. Manifest looked up at the bent bar, and the hatch shuddered again, straining the metal a little more. A feeling that he hadn’t felt since he was last in combat fell over him like a shadow. Complete helplessness. He was trapped in a metal coffin, and as soon as the hatch was pried open he would die in full view of the entire regiment.

“I got you.” Manifest heard Sure-Shot say on the radio, and immediately he heard the sound of bullets hitting his tank, hundreds at once as the tank was raked with canister. Above him he heard one last thump on the hatch, this one lacking the force of the others.

“Alright Sergeant, regroup on me, now.”

Manifest was still looking up at the hatch. He wasn’t going to die, not today. Thank Celestia. A breath he didn’t know he was holding released itself loudly. He looked at the bent hatch lock. A few more seconds and the mage may have gotten it opened. The pinging and pattering of bullets on the hull resumed. It was almost comforting.

“Sergeant, regroup on me now or I will have you court martialed for disobeying a superior officer!” Manifest kept looking at the hatch. The Duke almost let him die just seconds ago, and now was threating him with a court martial. Manifest clicked on his receiver.

“Copy, regrouping on you,” He spat into the radio. He clicked off and sat up to the periscope swiveling it to see the line of Equestrian tanks. “Lead, regroup on our tanks, look for the green and gold flag.”

“Copy.”

The Flyer turned away from the enemy, heading back to the other tanks. Manifest turned the turret to face the enemy, leaving it to Lead to get them to the right place. The edge of the Unicornians burning tent city still flashed with rifle fire, and Manifest fired off the co-ax in their direction. It was hardly worth firing, at this range there was no way he could hit them, he could hardly even see them. In fact, it wasn’t worth firing. Manifest took his hooves off of the trigger. Once they were regrouped and stationary he’d fire again, but for now it was better to save ammunition.

Manifest leaned back from the periscope. For the first time in what felt like forever there was nothing for him to do. He shook his head at the notion. ‘No, there’s always something I can do.’ He looked around the tank, shell and bullet casings littered the floor. That was a start. He swung the turret back to face front as he levitated a shell casing off of the floor, and then reached up to open the hatch. The hatch lock wouldn’t budge, the rod bent out of shape. He put the shell back on the floor. He looked for something else, but then decided against it, choosing to relax as much as he could for as long as he could.

Hardly a minute passed before the tank swerved hard left beneath him, then swung around 180 degrees to the right before stopping. Manifest got back up to the periscope as he swung the turret away from the rear to face the front of the tank.

“Now you listen to me Manifest and listen well,” The Duke said bitterly. “You are to stay at this position with us until I give you the orders to do otherwise. We will wait here for the griffons to flush the enemy out of their position, and then we will crush them here. Do you copy?”

“Yeah, I copy,” Manifest said with enough bitterness to match The Duke. Out ahead he could see the burning tent city at the end of the field, but there were no more flashes of rifle fire. Now that they weren’t actively being engaged by the tanks, they were bunkering down and hiding. Manifest scanned for any signs of movement or obvious positions, but the smoke of the burning tents obscured his vision. Around him the tanks were quiet, the cannons and guns still. They were playing the waiting game.

Manifest kept looking for movement in the smoke, a growing feeling of discomfort building inside of him. Here he was in the cutting edge of technology, a near invulnerable combination of firepower, armor and mobility, and he wasn’t doing a thing.

In the smoke something moved swiftly, and Manifest immediately diverted his attention to it. it was up above the ground, where the smoke had thinned into the atmosphere. A lone griffon flew overhead, but more and more flew into Manifests vision from the gloom. Abruptly a group dived towards the ground, descending into the smoke. Another followed, then another. The first group flew up out of the smoke, regrouped then dived again. It was almost comforting to watch the graceful arcs that the griffons flew as they rocketed up out of the smoke, peaked, and then dived back down.

Manifest followed the first group with his eyes, keeping track as they dived down, waiting for them to emerge. They dived down again, too far off for him to make anything out other than their outline. He waited for it to come back up, and the griffons pierced back up into the clearer skies. As they ascended, one suddenly halted, diving back toward the ground. Another followed quickly. Manifest looked on, confused. Why did they dive early? Another dived before reaching his apex, but with the thinning smoke Manifest could see his dive lacked form, his body tumbling to the earth. All comfort that he gained from their flight left him immediately. They were getting shot out of the sky. They were dying and there was nothing that he could do about it.

No, there was plenty that he could do about it. He was in charge of a tank. He could drive into there and start engaging the Unicornians, drawing their attention from the griffons, breaking their spirits, providing cover. But he wasn’t allowed to. The Equestrian tanks still sat silent and immobile, bunkers instead of tanks. Griffons were dying and all he could do was watch.

“We should be out there.” Manifest said, careful to keep his radio off. “We should be helping them.”

“When you say helping, you mean killing, right?” Deadeye asked in annoyance. Manifest ignored him, looking at the griffons, and counting those that fell from the skies. Finally he just couldn’t watch.

“Lead, tell me if something happens.” Manifest said, leaning away from the periscope and resting his head on the back wall.

“Taking a break?” Deadeye asked.

“I don’t need to hear it,” Manifest answered.

Deadeye was still fuming. “Don’t like watching griffons die?”

“No, I don’t.”

“But it’s ok for Unicornians to get wasted by the dozen?”

Manifest sighed. “Deadeye, we can talk about this later, but for now I just need a break. Please.” Deadeye turned away with a snort, but at least he was listening. Manifest shook his head. If it wasn’t for The Duke, he’d be up there, supporting the griffons. Contributing. But here he sat. The thought was gnawing away at him. In all of his time in the cavalry he had never just watched his allies die, while he sat idle.

“Commander, they’re charging!” Manifest bolted upright, not bothering to look through the periscope and going directly to the gunsights as he put the guns padding under his shoulder. There were about a hundred Unicornians that he could see running out into the field brazenly, their numbers too small to make a difference. It was a suicide charge. He looked harder now for weapons. If they still had fight in them he would take it out of them, but he couldn’t see any rifles or spears amongst them. He saw one of them drop something as he ran. He looked at the others, each one shedding equipment as they ran. They weren’t charging, they were fleeing. He took his hooves off the gun.

Out in the smoke he saw the flash of rifle fire, and one of the fleeing ponies fell. “Deadeye, give me High Explosive.” Manifest felt the breech open as more flashes issued from the smoke, striking down more runners. The breech slammed shut, and Manifest waited. Another flash appeared and Manifest aimed for the source, then fired. The cannon jerked beneath him as the round flew out, the tracer arching through the air until the round hit with a flash and a plume of dust. Everypony running out in the field dived to the ground, ducking away from the cannon shot. Manifest felt the breech open again.

“Third platoon, load canister and blow these Unicornians off the field,” The Duke said.

Manifest clicked on his radio. “Lieutenant, they’re all ”

“MANIFEST, DO WHAT I BUCKING TELL YOU TO OR I’LL HAVE YOU THROWN IN JAIL!”

“But-”

“DO IT SERGEANT!”

Manifest yelled into the radio, hoping Sure-Shot would hear. “DON’T SHOOT THEM, THEY’RE UNARMED!”

“Unarmed?”

“MANIFEST, THIS IS NOT YOUR PLATOON, IT’S MINE! AND YOU DO WHAT I TELL YOU WHEN-” Manifest looked at the radio and turned to the all company frequency.

“D Company, be advised, Unicornians in the field are not armed.” He closed his eyes and hoped.

“Company, hold fire on the Unicornians in the field until their intent is verified. Copy.”

“Copy.”

“Copy.”

“Copy.” The last one was The Duke, who sounded surprisingly calm. Manifest opened his eyes again.

“Holy Celestia, that was close,” he muttered as he switched back to the platoon frequency. He looked back through the periscope. The Unicornians in the field still were cowering on the ground, but there were no more flashes in the smoke. He couldn’t see where the griffons had flown off to, but they were no longer flying and diving into the Unicornian positions. Out of the smoke more Unicornians trotted into the field, slowly and without weapons. Manifest waited for a moment before he could fully relax, but the field was still.

The Second Battle of Canterlot had come to an end.