“I hate waiting.”

Eagle Eyes made this proclamation after they had been standing along the trench wall in silence for the better part of ten minutes, peering out across the field at the massive low concrete bunker, and the metal leviathans that rumbled across the field aimlessly. They were waiting, as best as they could tell, for Unicornian reserves to pour out from the bunker and attempt to dislodge them, but not a shot had been fired from either side for a record amount of time. After sitting on a hair trigger waiting for something, Trench was happy for conversation.

It would take his mind off the awful stench that filled his nose, and what was making it.

“Well Eagle, that’s just par for the course for you, you hate just about everything.”

“Shut up Longshot. I don’t. And this sucks.”

“If ah’m bein’ honest with ya’ll, ah could probably wait all day and be pleased as punch. What’s wrong with waitin’?”

“I just hate not knowing what’s going to happen next. If we have to fight them, and we will, I just want someone to tell me so we can get it over with.”

“See, that’s another thing that you hate,” Longshot said with a grin.

“Shut up.”

“Ohhh-ho-ho. Eagle, I got another thing you’re going to hate.”

“What.”

“You owe me 25 bits.” Eagle just frowned, glowering. “Pay up.” Longshot said, ribbing him on.

“Hm, gee, I really would, but we’re in the middle of a battle, and I think I left all of my bits at home. I got a machine gun, and ammunition, and grenades, but I think that I haven’t been able to get to the bank, so I can’t give you your bits right now. Sorry. Was there anything else you wanted?”

“Hold on ya’ll, what’s the bet, ya can’t just hide bets from your sergeant.”

“Eagle bet me 25 bits that Trench was going to wash out, but I had faith, and now I have 25 bits.”

“That’s a brutal bet,” Joe chimed in. His input was almost surprising to Trench, momentarily distracting from the content of the bet. Abruptly he realized what Joe meant.

“Wait a minute, you were betting on if I would get killed?”

“No-no-no!” said Longshot, aghast. “Just on if you could hack it or not!”

“We kinda were,” Eagle said.

“You jerk!” Longshot said, glowering at Eagle before he turned to Trench. “Want me to hit him for you?”

“Yeah.”

Immediately Longshot clubbed Eagle in the back of the head with a solid ‘thunk’, eliciting a yelp of pain from the pony. Eagle turned to face Longshot, looking for vengeance.

“Remember rank,” Longshot said with a smug grin.

Eagle stopped himself short. “Alright, but you were in the bet too.”

Longshot stopped grinning. “Yeah, I was.” He turned to Trench. “I’m sorry for taking a bet like that. But I’m greedy and selfish. What can I say, I like money, and this was the easiest 25 bits I’ve ever made.” Longshot offered a cautious grin, hoping for forgiveness.

“It’s okay,” Trench said. It was hard to hold a grudge against Longshot. Still, he was unsettled. They were betting on him going mad, or losing his will, or dying. Another thought occurred to him. He almost did. He didn’t know which one troubled him more.

“Well, ya may not like it much, but ah had another bet ridin’ on ya.” Trench turned over to his Sergeant.

“Really, you too?” Trench asked.

“Yessir partner,” Repeater said with a bit of a grin. He turned over his shoulder “Muddy, Bloody, ya’ll owe me 10 bits per. Hack told he spewed.”

The twins rolled their eyes and grumbled indistinctly as the bet registered with Trench. Quickly he threw his unoccupied hoove up in a plaintive gesture of annoyance. “Aw, come on sergeant, really!”

“Huh?” Repeater asked, turning back to see the annoyed pony and his gesture. “You come on! This is a nice and wholesome bet that ah had here. I wasn’t bettin’ on ya getting shot up like those other barbarians over there”

“But you were betting I was gonna throw up!”

“And?”

“That’s just insulting, Sergeant! I thought that you thought of me a little bit better.”

At this Repeater shook his head. “Naw, Trench, ya got mah intentions all wrong. Ah ain’t insultin’ ya by sayin’ that ya’d spew, ah was givin’ ya a complement. All the best ponies throw up at least once in combat. Ah did.”

“We’d like to point out that he was the only one,” Muddy said, leaning around Repeater to tell Trench.

“Like ah said, the best ponies!” Repeater said with a grin. Bloody leaned even around his brother.

“He’s just the only one who couldn’t hold it in.”

“Implyin’ ah ain’t the best pony?” Repeater said, turning to the twins next to him. Their lack of a response was answer enough. Repeater grinned, a little sparkle in his eye like he had all the confidence in the world. “Ah’d just like ta point out that Manifest threw up too.” The twins ears almost instantly flopped in defeat. “That’s what Ah thought.”

Trench had heard the name Manifest in passing before, but he didn’t know anything about him. Seeing what an impact the mention of his name had piqued his curiosity. “Who’s Manifest?”

Bloody answer before the Sergeant could, and his answer was almost shocking in its sincerity. “Manifest was the best pony.”

“What?” Trench asked, not anticipating that answer. Repeater looked back towards him, the slightest tint of melancholy in his eyes.

“Manifest Destiny was the pony you replaced, and he was the best of us.”

“The best? What made him the best? Was he like a good shot or strong or something?”

“He was a pretty good shot,” Longshot interjected. Repeater waved him off, then looked to Trench.

“Manifest was this short little pony from Fillydelphia, only made it through basic on force of will. He was a pretty good shot, but that didn’t make him the best. He was just a good pony. Like…” he looked up to the sky, thinking. “Alright, ya know how we saved 750 Unicornians at the first battle of Canterlot?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah don’t think that we woulda saved one if not for Manifest Destiny.”

Trench blinked in surprise. “Really, how?”

“He was just the first one ta go. We all heard ‘em, but he was the first one ta try and help. He went out there. The first guy he went ta
blew himself up, tried ta kill ‘em. The second tried ta too, but Manifest talked him down, patched him up, and brought him back. After that, we all started tryin’ ta save ‘em. But Manifest was the first. “

“What happened to him, did he die?”

“Naw, he’s still out there, somewhere. They called him back ‘cause he didn’t meet the new physical requirements. They sent him back ta train new recruits.”

“Oh yeah, you asked me if I saw him on my first day,” Trench said.

“Yessir.” Somewhere Trench could hear the beating of hoofs on the floor, slowly getting louder. Bloody leaned in to Repeater.

“Well, actually Sergeant, we were-”

“Who’s in charge here?” Everypony turned to the source of the question, a very tired looking earth pony.

“That would be me,” Repeater said, “What do ya have for us?”

“Orders.” The pony panted. Trench heard more than a few groans from his squaddmates, and a feeling of dread began to wash over him.

“I freaking called it,” Eagle muttered, just loud enough for everypony to hear.

“No, don’t worry, these are good orders,” the pony panted, “I just gotta catch my breath, I’ve been running all over telling everyone the news.

“What news?” asked Longshot. The pony raised a hoof over his head, then reached into his saddlebags for his canteen.

“Just tell us, for Celestia’s sake!” Eagle said.

“Hey, lay off him, he’s tired,” Trench said on the pony’s behalf. “just give him-“

“We won,” The pony said, taking a quick break from his canteen before taking another long drink. Everypony stopped with their talking,
the runner having their undivided attention. He stopped drinking and put up his canteen, then continued. “Your orders are to stay put in these trenches, and keep an eye on that bunker, pretty soon the royal guard and the first heavy armored are going to assault it, so you guys just need to make sure nothing screwy happens.”

Trench breathed a sigh of relief, no more combat for him today. The others were not as convinced or content.

“Do ya have any idea when the next attack is?”

“How many losses did we take”

“What does ‘winning’ entail?”

“What about the second trench system?”

As the squad bombarded the messenger with questions, Trench remembered what had bugged him so much earlier.
“Why aren’t they shelling us?”

The pony threw up his hooves, “One at a time, Geez!” the squad shut up, and the pony began to talk. “I don’t know how many we lost, and I don’t know what’s going to happen next, that’s up to the Unicornians. Either they’re going to attack us, or they’re going to fall back. If they fall back, we chase them, if they attack we stop them.”

“But what about the second trench system and their artillery?” Repeater asked.

“The Griffons and Pegasus already took it. We can now move around behind their lines and do whatever the hay we want.”

Trench let the words sink in, their implication growing in his head. If they punched a hole in the line, they could cut off the Unicornians supplies. They could attack their rear positions and neutralize artillery, they could attack from unanticipated directions. Each new thought slowly built up another, grander thought.

They might be able to win the war soon.

Repeater nodded his head slowly. “Alright partner, ya can feel free ta go.” The earth pony saluted, then ran off down the trench to the next squad. The squad must have felt the way that Trench did, for they were all quiet as they resumed their positions on the wall. They looked out at the low bunkers ahead, and the machines that sat in the field, now immobile and waiting.

“We already broke through their second line,” Longshot said.

“Yeah.”

Out in the field, the machines sputtered to life, a cloud of smoke emitting from them as they lurched forward. Slowly they turned to face the bunker ahead, their steel squealing like the brakes of a train as they traversed. They began rumbling forward.

“What time is it?” asked Joe. Trench detached his bayonet from his MMMG, and stuck it into the ground, handle pointing skyward. He looked at the shadow that it cast.

“I’d say it’s about eight,” He said as he took the bayonet out from the ground and snapped it back onto his gun.

“Wow, after sitting here for 9 months we break it in 3 hours,” Eagle said.

Out in the field a lone machine gun started firing, its muzzle-flash emanating from a slit in the bunker. More joined in with it, a rapid fire pap-pap-pap-pap filling the air. Sparks flew from the machines, but they advanced unimpeded. A heavier ‘Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop’ rung out through the air, accompanied by large flashes from the bunkers roof. Yellow tracer flew through the air from this cannon into one of the machines, but the rounds bounced with a cascade of sparks. One of the tracers bounced skyward, shooting up until it was lost in the sun.

“Pulling out the zeppelin guns,” Muddy noted.

“And they aren’t doing a thing,” Bloody finished, a evil grin on his face.

Out in the field, the things stopped, then fired. Their cannons shook even the giant machines, dust kicking up from the blast of their guns as their booming echoed across the sky like thunder, the yellow flash of their rounds flying like lightning into the bunkers, and shattering them. With every shot Trench could watch as the rounds leapt through the air and into machine gun slits, or simply bashed their way through the concrete walls. The bunkers guns and cannons still fired wildly, but with every Equestrian shot another was taken out.

Trench started shaking his head in disbelief. “They can’t do anything.”

“Nope.” Repeater said. A few of the machines had moved closer to the bunker, facing the machine gun slits directly. Abruptly a stream of flame shot out from the front of one, flying into the slit. The flame stopped, but the inside of the section was now ablaze. The other machines started with their flamethrowers as well, showering any slits or ports of the bunker with fire. Almost instantly the Unicornian guns stopped.

“Geez, this isn’t even fair,” Trench said. Not a single Equestrian machine had taken damage to Trenches eyes, and all signs of resistance from the bunker ahead had ceased. At the eastern end of the field more machines started up, rumbling toward the bunker with columns of the golden armored royal guard marching in cover behind.

“Good,” Eagle said.

“Good?” Trench asked, turning to Eagle. He shook his head. “It’s a massacre!”

“Do you want it to be a fair fight?” Eagle asked. Trench didn’t answer, and he didn’t have to.

“I just wish they would give it up,” Trench said, shaking his head. He could see smoke pouring out of the bunks, and he could see the flames dancing through the machine gun slits. He couldn’t imagine what was happening inside there.

“Hay, maybe they will,” Repeater said optimistically.

Trench shook his head again, sadly this time. “No, they won’t.”

The Equestrian machines drove up to the bunker, turning and parking in front of the machine gun slits and entrances, each a gargantuan metal roadblock trapping the Unicornians inside. The Royal Guard trotted out from behind their machines, now no longer in danger.

“Well, at least they’re only hurtin’ themselves by not surrenderin’,” Repeater said as the Royal Guard moved up to the bunker.

“And here I was thinking it would be really hard to take that bunker,” Eagle said.

“Yeah, but you thought like an idiot,” Longshot replied. “With those things on our side nothing’s gonna be hard for the rest of the war.”

“Ah gotta interrupt ya Longshot, and ah want everypony ta listen up.” The squad turned to Repeater expectantly. “Alright, Ah don’t want ya ta get overconfident. Ah get that these…things are gonna be a great help,” he said as he gestured out to the field. “And it looks like they can’t be touched, but ah just want ta remind ya that we can be. Ah’d hate for ya’ll ta get too cocky, think ya’ll can do things that ya can’t, and then get killed for it. Things are still gonna be hard for us. Alright?” The squad nodded. “Alright.”

“Well, things are gonna be easier,” Longshot said. “Like taking this trench, or taking that bunker. Those things out there are pretty…” Longshot furrowed his eyebrows as he searched for the right word. “...effective?”

“I would say terrifying,” Trench said as he looked off at them. This morning they had about scared him to death when they crossed the Equestrian trenches, and he couldn’t imagine going up against them, especially when he hadn’t seen one of them damaged in the whole battle. The thought of being in that bunker and watching everything he had fail against the machines almost made him empathetic for the Unicornians.

“I’m just glad they’re on our side,” Eagle said. The squad grew quiet, and Trench was content to not start a new conversation. He thought back to the morning. Celestia, all the things that had happened since the morning. He had been everywhere emotionally; terrified, euphoric, broken, nervous, furious. All the things that he did. He killed… Celestia, he didn’t know. He didn’t know how many ponies he had killed since he had woken up.

“Ya alright partner? Look like ya seen a ghost.”

Trench snapped out of his stupor. “Uh, no, not really, Sergeant.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know how many ponies I’ve killed.” Repeaters ears dropped, and he glanced at the ground.

“Oh, ah get it. Ah don’t know either. Ah don’t think that any of us do.” Repeater shifted about uncomfortably, “Uh, partner, let’s talk about somethin’ else. Alright? This ain’t a good conversation.”

“I’m sorry, Sergeant, but it’s just what I’m thinking about.”

“Take mah advice, and don’t,” Repeater said. “Yah need somethin’ ta do? Work helps.”

Trench shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“Alright.”

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. It was funny, almost a contradiction. Being told not to think about it just made him think about it more. How many had he killed? All of his memories of the morning blurred together into a single grotesque vision of violence that he imparted onto others.

“Hey, Cold wants to talk to you.”

Trench looked over, and saw Joe standing in the trench motioning over to the dugout that he had cleared. Cold was no longer on the Browns, and must have gone in. Trench looked at Repeater quizzically.

“Ya go on. It’s a big occasion.”

Trench hopped down, and trotted to the opening of the dugout.

It smelled like death in there, from all the bodies they had moved to clear the trench. In the dim light he could see Colds’ outline. Cautiously, he trotted in.

“You wanted to see me?”

The silhouette nodded slightly. “You killed seven this morning. If you wanted to know.”

“Seven?”

The silhouette nodded again. Trench thought about it for a moment. He couldn’t recall any of them clearly save for the mage, and he didn’t want to. Seven ponies? He shook his head.

“Does knowing make you feel better, or worse?” Cold asked.

Trench kept shaking his head. “I don’t know… I feel… I killed seven ponies? I don’t remember it.”

“So you feel the same?” Cold stated, no inflection or emotion in his voice.

“Yeah, I feel terrible.”

“You feel the same because it doesn’t matter how many ponies you kill.”

Trench stiffened at this, snapping out of his own thoughts and fears at the insinuation. “Doesn’t matter? Seven ponies are dead because of me! And you say it doesn’t matter?”

“You could have killed seven or seventy, but it wouldn’t change how you feel, because the number doesn’t matter. Would you do the same thing again?”

Trench thought about it for a moment. He had to kill the mage, the one that he remembered best, or they all would have died. The others in the dugout… he did everything that he could to not kill them, they just wouldn’t give up. “Yeah, I would.”

“That’s all that matters,” Cold said.

“That’s all that matters?” Trench asked, confused.

“Yes. Because you will have to do it again.”

“Kill?”

“Yes.”

Trench waited for Cold to say something, but the pony was silent. He had barely spoken, but what he said had set Trench’s mind awhirl with questions. “Why did you want to talk to me?” Trench asked. It was a good place to start.

“There was no one to help us after our first combat, no one who knew what it was like. I wanted to talk to you because I want to help you, but I need to know if you can still do your job.”

“My job, you mean killing?”

“Yes.”

Trench nodded, slowly increasing his pace as he became more convinced of his answer. “Yeah, I can do it.”

“Good.”

“But hey, I may not need to again. With those machines on our side hopefully we’ll win soon.”

“You shouldn’t do that,” Cold said.

“Wait, do what?”

“Hope. You know… hope is a mistake. Out here hope makes you sloppy, makes you dull, makes you let down your guard. Hope will kill you. Hope will kill people who rely on you.”

“Alright, but maybe the war will end soon anyway,” Trench said brightly, shrugging away Cold’s statement.

“If you’re going to hope for anything, hope that it doesn’t.”

Trench recoiled away in shock at the statement. “Celestia! Why the hay would anyone want to hope for that!”

“Because they know what would happen if the war ends before it needs to.”

“And what would happen?” Trench asked.

“You seem smart, you’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t get why you would want it to keep going, don’t you want to go home?”

“More than you can imagine. Do you remember your first day?”

“Yeah, with the die and the heat lamps. I remember. I hated it.”

“Remember what they told you before you entered?”

“Yep, they said that I was going to be a different pony when I came out, and when the war was over I could go back to my old self.”

“Remember that. When things are bad, remember that if you keep yourself and everyone else alive, you can go home and leave all of
this behind you,” he said as he motioned outside to the trench. “You won’t have to feel like you do anymore.”

“Ok, but how do I keep from feeling like this right now?”

Cold sighed, wearily, mournfully. “If I knew, I would tell you. Ask the Sergeant and the Sniper, they seem to know. All that I can tell you is, If you can’t fix what’s broken, you’ll, uh…” He trailed off, looking out past Trench at the light of the entrance, his eyes filled with sadness. He nodded his head and finished his sentence. “You’ll go insane.”

Cold started trotting towards the light, shuffling past Trench, done with conversing. Trench turned. Now would be one of the few chances, maybe the only chance, that he would get to talk with Cold. He had to make the most of it.

“Hey Cold, why don’t you ever talk?” Cold turned his head.

“Because I saw the future. At the battle of Canterlot.”

“What’s the future?” Trench asked.

“You can see it for yourself, just head down there.” Cold pointed into the darkness behind Trench, then turned and trotted out of the dugout. Trench looked over his shoulder. He knew what was back there. He helped make it. He didn’t have to see it, he could smell it.

What was back there was death.

Trench shuddered involuntarily, and quickly turned and trotted out of the dugout. Outside it was beginning to get warm, the start of another hot day. He shook his head, he couldn‘t understand why Celestia couldn’t just turn it down. He headed back to the squad, some of whom looked very interested in seeing him.

“I’ve been with Cold in the trenches for months, you’ve been here for days, and yet he talks to you before he talks to me,” Longshot said, the ghost of a grin dancing across his face. “What did he have to say?”

Trench thought for a second before answering. “I can’t remember, why don’t you ask him yourself?” Longshot just shook his head.

“Ask him myself? It’s a lost cause.”

“So, uh, did I miss anything?” Trench asked. Repeater answered quickly.

“Well partner, the Royal Guard finished cleanin’ out that bunker, the twins are trying ta figure one of those Unicornian rifles, Eagle complained a little and we told him ta can it. Basically ya didn’t miss anythin’ and still managed ta forget the conversation that you had with a pony who hasn’t talked in months that you literally just finished. Ah am quite disappointed in your memory-span.”

“Sorry, Sergeant.”

“Ya bloody well should be!” Repeater said animatedly, waving a hoof errantly through the air. “Ya know how big a deal it is ta have Cold Blooded actually talk ta ya? Shoot, he ain’t talked ta me in forever, and ah’m his Sergeant!”

“All I can say is sorry.”

“Partner, later on ah’m gonna debrief ya, and if you can’t start remembering what was said, then ah’m gonna have ta move ta enhanced interrogation.”

“Enhanced interrogation?” Repeater nodded. “What’s enhanced interrogation?”

“A lot a fun for me and the squad, and not a lot a fun for you,” Repeater said with a grin.

“But what is it?”

“Don’t tell me what Cold said at the debriefing and you’ll find out.”

“Alright, alright,” Trench said, waving it off. He looked back out across the field. Atop the bunker, he could see a pole had been erected. Then, rising just over the edge of the bunker was a flag. The Equestrian flag. Slowly it climbed the pole, dancing in the morning wind.

“You know what I think is funny,” Eagle said, getting everyone’s attention. “Sergeant just said that the Royal Guard just finished clearing that bunker, and then he said that Trench missed nothing.” He almost grinned. “That’s hilarious.”

“It is kinda funny,” Longshot said. “Who would have thought?”

“I guess that we’re getting pretty good at this,” Eagle continued. “This whole ‘war’ thing.”

“Yeah, geez, I guess we are,” Longshot said.

Trench pointed out to the field, “Good enough to build those things.”

“Speaking of those things, me and my brother have a theory,” Muddy said. The twins were down in the trench, fiddling with a Unicornian rifle. “Trench, how tall was your drill sergeant at training?” Muddy asked, not looking up away from his task at hoove.

“Uh, he was a kinda big guy, I guess.”

Muddy nodded his head, “And the others?”

“Um, they were all different, some short guys, but mostly tall ponies. Why?”

Muddy just nodded again and looked at his brother. “I think we’re right, brother.”

“I think we are too, brother,” Bloody answered before looking up at Trench. “We were told that everypony under a certain height was being sent back to serve as instructors at basic training. You say that there weren’t that many short ponies at basic. We don’t think they went to basic.”

Muddy finished the thought. “We think they went to the machines.”

Repeater turned to face them. “Hold up, ya think that all those ponies are now out there in the things?” he said, pointing out generally to the field.

“Precisely, Sergeant, precisely.”

“Ya mean ya think Manifest is out there in one a those?”

“Well, yes.”

Repeater looked back out to the field and grinned. “Manifest in one a those. Ain’t that funny. The weakest of us is now the strongest. Yah know, Ah hope he is out there in one a those, cause if he was able ta do so much with his hooves,” he said, pointing out at one of the things, “think a what he could do in that.”