Being out in the open did miracles for Static Sparks concentration. After spending all morning in that horrible processing building the breeze on his face and grass of the parade ground under his feet made him feel like a new pony altogether.

‘But Sparks, you are a new pony. You aren’t even Sparks anymore, remember? You’re 010518412 now.’ He reminded himself as he trotted towards the three barracks buildings in the distance. Barrack 3 for third platoon was his destination, and it was the furthest from the parade grounds. He looked around at the other ponies making their way to their respective barracks. It looked off. The sky was colorful, the fields were a luscious green, but the ponies were all so uniform and dull. It just didn’t match up.

He arrived in front of the large wooden barracks for 3rd platoon, and the fact that the building didn’t exist three days ago was apparent. He could see small gaps between planks in the construction, and the smell of paint still lingered in the air. He shoved open the door with his hoof. Inside the barracks a single large fan spun from the ceiling, fighting to keep the temperature that was brought in by 70 ponies down. The only things in the room were several groups of two-pony bunks, each clumped in groups of five. On the floor next to the groups of bunks Sparks could see inscribed squad numbers. Each bunk had an I.D. number stamped onto the end; all that was left to do now was to find his and he would be paired up with his squad.

He had a top bunk in the cluster for 5th squad, and at the base of the bunk where two footlockers. One of them had his I.D. Number stamped on top. He trotted over and casually kicked the top open. Inside there was a dress uniform on the left, a large hollow area that he was meant to fill, and most importantly papers and a set of pencils on the right. Sparks didn’t bring any personals with him, so that part of moving in was easy. The paper, on the other hoove, that was important.

Sparks levitated a sheet and a pencil and climbed up the small ladder on the side of the bunk. He lay down on the mediocre spring mattress and began to write.

Dear Mom and Dad,

I’m just writing to tell you that I’m alright. They processed us earlier today. Dyed us all brown, cut our manes, took our names and gave us a number. They said we had to earn new names, and that they were going to make us killers. The guy in charge knows what he’s doing. We have only two weeks of training before we get sent to the front, but I know that by then we’ll be ready to fight.

Sparks stopped as he wrote the words. By then we’ll be ready to fight. Would they be? He looked over from his bunk at the other ponies in his squad. He recognized the twin unicorns and their tall spindly frames. There were two other unicorns that were about his size, maybe taller. A unicorn with a large build. A large earth pony. And three other earth ponies of roughly regular size. Already the dye had made them hard to separate. Earlier it had been so easy to identify who was who. But now…

Now he was getting distracted. He looked back at the ponies of his squad, all busy writing letters to loved ones. The entire barracks had gone quiet except for the sound of pencil on paper. Were they ready to fight? Were they even capable of fighting? Sparks thought back to the past, to school. He was picked on for being a ‘blank flank’ but he never got into a fight. He never even seen anypony fight except for in the movies. He remembered what that pony said earlier before the conversion.

“Do you want to be a killer!?”

“Naw sir, Ah’ve always tried my hardest ta never even hurt anypony.”

Has anypony ever been in a fight?

Sparks heard the sounds of the pencils stop suddenly. He looked and saw his squad mates looking back at him.

“What was that?” one of the earth ponies asked, his voice tinged with the unmistakable accent of Manehatten. Sparks sat for a moment; he must have spoken his last thought out loud.

“Has anypony ever been in a fight?” Sparks asked again. His squad mates stayed silent, some shaking their heads no.

“Well, ah was almost in a fight once”, a familiar country drawl said from under Sparks bunk. Sparks leaned over his bunk and looked down at the earth pony who spoke. It was the same one from the beginning room, Braeburn, maybe?

“Almost in a fight?” asked Sparks incredulously.

“Well, yeah”, Braeburn replied. “When we settled Appleloosa we made all the buffalo upset because we planted trees on their stampedin’ grounds. After some bickerin’ they decided ta kick us off the land, and us settler ponies fought them back.”

Sparks furrowed his brow in suspicion. “But you said you were ‘almost’ in a fight?”

“Ah didn’t take part. Ah didn’t want ta fight ‘em is all. Those buffalo folk were plenty kind enough and we get along great now. It was just a misunderstanin’ was all.”

“Okay, has anypony actually been in a fight?” Sparks asked. A few of them shook their heads no again, the one with the Manehatten accent simply resumed writing his letter. Dear Celestia, none of them had ever fought, not even on the playground as kids. “How about shot a rifle?” he asked. It was a longshot; he didn’t know anypony who actually owned a rifle, and if nopony ever even threw a kick then he doubted that anypony would have fired an honest-to-Celestia gun.

“Ah’ve shot a rifle before”, Braeburn responded. At this the squadponies stopped what they were doing. Braeburn had their full attention now.

“You’ve shot a rifle?” asked Sparks.

“Yeah, a beautiful .30-30 Marechester lever action, model of 997.” A smile grew on Braeburns face as he remembered back to it. "She held 15 rounds, and could shoot a tick right off the back of a coyote at 50 yards.”

“Was it somepony else’s?” one of the unicorns asked.

“Nah, a lot of us settler ponies had a rifle of some sort when we set off to found Appleloosa, for shootin’ varmints or in case some bandits were out there. Ah bought mine for 150 bits.”

The earth pony with the Manehatten accent sat up in his bunk and looked at Braeburn. “If all of you settler ponies had rifles, and the buffalo start giving you grief, why the hay didn’t you use your rifles on the buffalo?”

Braeburn looked horrified at the idea. “Ah couldn’t do that! We didn’t want anyone hurt, and I don’t think that they did either. Our hearts just weren’t into it.”

“If you couldn’t use a rifle then, what says you’ll use one now?” Manehatten shot back “I don’t want to be in a squad with some conscientious objector.”

“You know full well that this is different now. Ah’ll fight just a good as anypony.”

Manehatten narrowed his eyes. “You swear?”

Braeburn stared the pony down, eyes filled with intensity. “Yeah, ah swear. I ain’t afraid of a fight, ah just don’t want ta get in one unless it’s necessary.”

“Alright then”, said Manehatten, seemingly satisfied with that answer. One of the normal build unicorns turned to Braeburn.

“if you didn’t use your rifles, what did you fight with? Harsh language?”

“Naw, we used apple pies.” Braeburn said it with absolute conviction. Everypony in the squad stared in disbelief. Manehatten started chuckling, and buried his head into his sheets.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Oh Celestia, this is rich.” Manehatten started back to writing his letter. “We should get baking; Apple pies will fell the armies of Unicornia.”

The others took the news less well. One of the earth ponies finally broke the silence. “So out of us ten, only one of us has ever almost been in a pie fight, and now we’re gonna go up against unicorns who flay the flesh off of bone.” It was a statement, not a question, and the meaning of it made the whole squad still.

“We ain’t gonna be ready, are we?” Braeburn asked. Nopony answered. Manehatten continued his writing, and then looked over to Braeburn.

“Speak for yourself, pilgrim. I’m gonna be ready. Or I’m gonna die trying.” He picked his pencil back up with his mouth and went to writing again. Through gritted teeth he continued to speak. “You know what’ll happen to ponies that aren’t ready. That won’t happen to me. I’m going to be the best soldier there is, because I have the soldier’s mentality.” He looked over to Braeburn. “It’s a mental war, pilgrim. You gotta be a killer in here” he said as he motioned to his head with a hoove. “You gotta be able to put all that ‘good folks’ garbage away. I can, and that’s why they aren’t gonna get me.” With that, he went back to his letter, satisfied that he had the last word on the matter.

“I just hope the training works”, Sparks said. The others nodded in agreement and went back to their writing. Sparks looked for a clock, and found one on the back wall. 2:10. Fifty minutes until training. Time was crawling. Thank Celestia.

He looked at his letter. Despite the Manehattenites bravado, Sparks wasn’t sure they would be. Still, it would probably be better to lie than to tell his parents he was going to war and wouldn’t be ready. As a matter of fact the letter looked fine to him. There wasn’t too much to talk about anyway, other that the torture of the heat lamps. “Screw that room”, Sparks muttered. Just thinking about it drained the life from his body. Come to think of it, a nap seemed to be just what the doctor ordered. With that, he put his letter up and lay down on the cot to sleep.

Sparks couldn’t see.

He could hear a harsh metallic heavy breathing, and feel uneven loose rock beneath his hooves, but he couldn’t see more than five steps in front of him. Grey dust filled the air to choking, but his lungs were fine. It was dark, like during a heavy snowfall at dusk. Ash drifted from the grey heavens above. He saw this world without color through two heavy lenses, like portholes on a ship. He listened more. The breathing was his. He heard something else from his back right.

“-othing left, -ey detona…”

“-there anyone out there?”

“-elestia, they’re all…”

“ -asting on all frequencies, help is inco…”

The box on Sparks’ right saddle continued to make these sorts of strange noises. He felt like he was in the dye bath again, like he was swimming from place to place. All of the noise was muted, and he could only just feel the loose rocks beneath his hooves. He looked over his left shoulder, he was carrying what looked like a small cannon.

There was a light patch in the fog ahead, and sparks started toward it. He could make out the outline of a pony with some weapon he had never seen before in the gloom. Without thinking he grabbed up the small cannon and reared up on hind legs, tucking the stock of it into his shoulder and aiming down the barrel at the silhouette.

“Starswirl!” Sparks shouted. Even as he said the word he was confused.

“Bearded”, The silhouette responded. “Calm down Commander, it’s me.” The silhouette trotted over, revealing an earth pony in a gas mask and light uniform, with a searchlight mounted on his back. “Found anypony?” Sparks stood confused. How did I get here? Who is this?

“Commander?” the earth pony asked. “Commander, Wake up.” The pony said as he shoved sparks with his hoove.

“WAKE UP!”

“WAKE UP!” Braeburn shouted as he shoved Sparks hard in the chest. Sparks woke with a start. “It’s about time ya woke, ya got to get to trainin’ soon. Just about slept through everythin’” Braeburn said with a characteristic grin on his face. “Ah reckon ya could sleep through darn near anything, could ya?”

Sparks looked to the clock on the wall. 2:50. Training was set to start soon. The other squad ponies were getting up and putting up their things. He looked at Braeburn. “Do we need to bring anything?”

Braeburn smiled “Naw, just your four hooves and a willingness to exercise.” He seemed almost too happy to Sparks. Didn’t he realize he was only two weeks away from a war? Maybe this was his way of coping, sparks thought. Maybe this was just what he was like. Sparks dismounted his bunk.

“Hey, partner”, Braeburn said with a serious tone, and Sparks turned in response. “Can I ask ya a question?”

“Sure”, Sparks replied.

“Seein’ how we share a bunk and are in the same squad and all, would ya like to be mah buddy? Ya know, watch my back and ah watch yours. Help each other out. That sorta thing?”

“I guess” Sparks said groggily, still trying to sort out the events of the past few minutes. The dream was already fading from memory. He remembered a radio, Something about a gas mask, and grey. Even as he tried to think of it the memories was slipping away.

Braeburn was smiling again. “Well let’s get goin’ partner, ah would hate to be late. The Major wouldn’t take too kindly to that.” He was already trotting out of the barracks as Sparks stood in confusion. “What the hay are you waitin’ for, let’s go!” Braeburn shouted from the doorway.

Sparks began to follow him absentmindedly, still confused and not entirely awake. He caught up to Braeburn. “Hey, just a question”, Sparks asked.

The stallion turned, big silly grin still plastered on his face. “Shoot.”

“What happened back there?”

“You made a friend, partner.” Braeburn said with a smile. Sparks stopped and stood there, trying to comprehend that piece of news.

“I made a friend.”

Despite the processing and the training and the war and the whole rotten mess, it was beginning to look like a good day after all.