“Sergeant”

The word jolted Manifest out of the perfect blackness of his sleep, and into the imperfect darkness of the waking morning. There wasn’t enough light to distinguish the shapes around him, only the vague forms of contours and movement in the night.
“It’s time to wake up, Commanders’ briefing in 5.” a shadow in front of him said. Manifest nodded, his gesture swallowed by the blackness.
“I’ll be there, thank you.” Manifest said. He heard the hoofsteps of the pony trotting away, and reached up until he felt his hooves touch the cold metal of the Flyer. Manifest rolled over to the right, and reached up again. His eyes were still not adjusted to the dark, but he could rely on his sense of touch. The grass that was beneath him was wet with dew, and the soil damp and muddy. His hoof hit the armor again, and he could feel the condensation collect on his hoof and roll down his leg. He rolled over again and looked up. He could see Luna’s stars dotting the sky, but the black mass of the tank’s armor swallowed up half of it. To his eyes it looked as if there was a line beyond which the stars simply ended. He rolled over again to clear the bottom of the tank, then got to his hooves.

Manifest closed his eyes and listened. He had learned through his time in the trenches that his sense of hearing was far better than he thought, and that in the darkness of the night he could hear conversations being held a hundred yards away if he only tried to. Right now he could hear obscured, hushed voices off to his right, and looked that way. In the darkness was a small sliver of golden light, coming from the hazy shadow of the command tent. Manifest trotted that way and pushed through the partially open tent flap to the inside.
The tent wasn’t too crowded yet, but Manifest knew that once all of the Tank Commanders in the company had arrived the poor tent would be packed to capacity. He looked at the ponies around him. Most of them looked like death heated up, trotting corpses that wanted nothing more than to clamber back into their coffins to slumber again. One pony yawned heavily, another weakly fighting against his closing, sleep filled eyes. A final poor pony could only keep his head up for a few seconds at a time before it would slump forward, only to jerk back erect. Manifest wasn’t tired, not yet anyway, but just as soon as he got to the tank he was going to put water in the boiling vessel and prepare some coffee. They had been up at 5 and to bed well after midnight for almost a week now, and while they were keeping the Unicornians on their toes, it was taking a toll on everypony.

More ponies trundled in, each at varying levels of consciousness. Sure Shot stumbled into the tent like a pony who had far too much cider to drink, and following him was a perfectly alert Duke.

“Good morning.” Manifest said to them. Sure Shot nodded wearily, The Duke said nothing. The two ponies filed in beside Manifest.

“If you are going to greet me, greet me by my rank sergeant” The Duke said, eyes forward to the front of the tent, where a billboard with a map of the area was being assembled.

“Good morning Lieutenant, sir.” Manifest said, also refusing to look at the Duke.

“Good morning Sergeant.” The Duke now said cordially to the air around him. No bridges had been built between the two since the events from six days ago, and Manifest was certain that with the Dukes attitudes that none ever would be.
“Attention!” came the call from the front of the tent, and all the ponies immediately stopped their chatter and gave their level best impression of actually being awake. Their Major, an earth pony with a large and well-groomed moustache trotted up to the map and cleared his throat.

“We’ve been doing this for 5 days now, so I won’t be wasting any of your time.” The Major spoke with disinterest, as though he was reading through a grocery list. “Orders are the same as yesterday. Drive out, find the Unicornians, and harass them. Keep them falling back, and keep them from regrouping. Operate on the platoon level, 3 tank teams. If the platoon leader determines that he needs support, radio company command. Each platoon leader will get his individual brief, please brief your subordinate T.C’s.”
“Now due to recent events, there are some doctrinal changes. So if you weren’t awake before, you need to be awake now.” The Major had snapped out of his lethargic recitation and into a more animated delivery, and the room stirred to life before him. “First and foremost, if you have not heard by now, yesterday we suffered our first casualties since the armored corps was formed. Lieutenant Covenanter and Corporal Valentine were killed yesterday.” The major paused for a few seconds, then continued. “Their tank was ambushed by Unicornian cavalry while they were unbuttoned. From now on, the moment that you get into your tanks all of your hatches will be closed until you reach the rendezvous point at the end of the day. I do not care how much better your vision is outside, or how much cooler it is, if you have the hatch closed you are invulnerable. So keep it closed.”

The Major took a heavy breath, then continued. “We also lost thirteen tanks yesterday to breakdowns, which combined with our first combat loss leads us to our next doctrinal change. The Unicornians want a tank. Badly. And we cannot allow them to have one. If your tank breaks down try to fix it and radio for reinforcements, but if you think that there is a chance that the Unicornians can take the tank you douse the engine deck with the spare gas, burn it, and put as many shots of anti-concrete rounds as you can through it before you leave. Everypony understand?” The room nodded dutifully. “Good. Do your jobs, and keep your crews safe. Dismissed.”

Everypony noisily stumbled up to their hooves, quickly gathering into groups of 3 as the platoon leaders began to give their individual briefings to their subordinates. The Duke was already trotting out of the tent, levitating his brief in front of him as he walked. Manifest and Sure-Shot followed suit.

“Will you be briefing us this morning, Lieutenant?” Manifest asked hopefully as they trotted through the tent flaps. The Duke closed his briefing as the flap closed behind them.

“No need Sergeant, I know the brief, and I want a head start.” Manifest sighed in response, but he didn’t argue. He had plenty of other things to expend his energy on. He trotted up to the Flyer and leaned under the lower glacis.

“Lead, Dead, time to get up.” Manifest said. He heard rustling from under the tank as he clambered up onto the tank's hull and towards the turret. In the dark he couldn’t see the gunners hatch so he ran his hoof across the turret roof until he felt the handle. He lifted the hatch, and clambered inside.

He sat down behind the gun, listening to the disconcerting sound of hard hooves tapping on armor. Memories of harder hoof-falls crawled into his mind. He looked up at where the hatch was, and imaged it shuddering under the mages magic a week before. Now all that he could see was the spotted night sky through the gaping hole. He reached up to the hatch, and brought it down.
With the hatch down, the darkness was complete and all encompassing. To his right the commander’s hatch opened, and Deadeye dropped in. Manifest found his radio headset and put it on, then placed his beret over that. Manifest leaned back until his head touched the armor. Maybe he could squeeze in a little more sleep before…

A high pitched whine permeated the cabin, followed by a loud road as the tank shuddered into life. The roar continued, fluctuating up and down in intensity as deadeye shut the hatch above him. No sleep would be happening right now. Manifest turned over and felt for the radio’s controls in the dark, then switched it on. He felt further for the boiling vessels switch. If he couldn’t have sleep, he needed to have caffeine.

The tank lurched from beneath him, but he managed to keep his balance on the miniscule gunner’s seat. He fumbled for the interior light switch, and flicked it onto a warm red glow throughout the cabin. He was told that the red light didn’t affect night vision as badly as others, but the hue made everything look only slightly lighter than the shade of blood.

He grabbed up the map of the area and began to unfold it as the tank groaned and limped its way out of the camp. Manifest gave its hull a tap with his hoof. It sounded just as tired as he felt. “Don’t give up on me today,” he muttered absently to the tank as he found his bearings on the map. All that he could do without a briefing on their mission was keep a track on where they were, and he intended to do so.
He shook his head in contempt to nopony in particular. The Duke not briefing them on their missions for the day robbed everypony of the ability to relax, and left them completely dependent on his orders. ‘Which is why he does it’ thought Manifest bitterly. It also left him unable to prepare. With a briefing, he could analyze the area, know how many troops he was up against, and make plans and contingencies. Without it, all that he could do was keep up with the map and wait for whatever was going to happen to happen. And the best part was he had no clue when that would be.

He looked wistfully at the boiling vessel. The coffee couldn’t come soon enough.

Manifest desperately wanted to open up the hatch. He looked up, and was confronted the hatches stenciled warning.

The message stayed his hooves, but only just. He couldn’t stretch, the light was barely adequate, the droning of the engine unending. But the worst was the heat. Celestia, he may have thought that the tank was hot before, but having been cooped up in it for over 3 hours now he knew that it wasn’t. It had started off cool and comfortable but now this, this was a nightmare. This was like the heat lamps back on day one, but they weren’t turning off. His skin glistened with sweat, and he was running out of water to replenish it. He took another sip from his canteen, the warm water still preferable to the hot moist air. The only thing that had been distracting him from the heat other than tracking their position on the map had been the list of improvements that he had been writing, and even then most of his recent recommendations had been curiously fixated on how damn hot the tank was. He looked at his watch, it was about 8:45. The sun had only started warming up.

His head set buzzed, and Manifests ears perked at the sound. Perhaps the Duke was about to give some orders and clue him into what the hay was going on. “You know commander, I’m glad that I’m getting out while I can. A few more days of this and the cavalry will find The Flyer on the side of the road, and a pair of skeletons and a pile of ash inside.”

Manifest turned to his right, surprised. Deadeye was looking at him, tired, covered in sweat. “Why aren’t we popping the hatches?” Deadeye asked, glancing at the locked turret roof above him, “I’m burning up in here.”

“Orders are to keep it closed, yesterday two ponies got shot outside the hatch.”

“Dead?”

“Yeah, first deaths in the armored corps.”

“Oh. Well then I guess that it is a good thing I’m leaving.”

The conversation was pained, haunted by the specter of Deadeyes departure, but it was happening. Further than that, Deadeye had been the one to start it. Manifest continued. ”If you still want to.”

“Yes, I do.” Deadeye said, almost forcefully, the defensive edge from days earlier resurfacing. “You aren’t changing your mind on me, are you?”

“No, if you want to go tomorrow, I’ll let you.” Manifest said. Deadeye relaxed visibly, a slight sigh escaping his lips as he closed his eyes and leaned back.

“Good.” He paused for a moment, letting the whir of the engine fill the cabin. He then cracked an eye open and looked at Manifest. “Oh, um, I don’t think that I’ve said this yet, but…thanks.”

“Thanks? What for?”

“For letting me go home. I think that some other ponies may not have let me, or may have court martialed me, or dishonorably discharged me, or some other crap. So thanks, for just letting me go and not ruining me for not being able to shoot anymore. I just couldn’t do it.”

“Well. Your welcome.” Manifest said. He felt a little like he was Deadeyes psychiatrist right now. ‘Repeater was yours for a while.’ He thought to himself. ‘That’s just part of the job.’ Manifest brightened up a little at the revelation. He was beginning to compare himself with the best leader that he knew.

“But I could do it, can do it” Deadeye said. Manifest looked over to him. Deadeye was staring off blankly in thought, then noticed Manifest looking at him. “I never want to do it again, but I could. And it was that it was so easy.” Manifest cocked his head. Deadeye held his right hoof in front of him, like he was holding something, then he pulled it toward him less than a inch. “Bang. And they’re all dead.” He shook his head. “I thought it would be harder.”

“That’s the easiest part” Manifest said, “It’s everything else that’s hard.”

“Yeah.”

“But you know why you did it, right?” Manifest asked.

“Sure. I get it.” Deadeye said dismissively. “It’s just not for me.”

Silence filled the tank again, and Manifest went back to the periscope. The sun was now high in the sky above, and through the dust kicked up by the two tanks in front of him he could see the Dukes’ tank, its pennant waving above the khaki cloud.

“So, when you discharge me tomorrow, what’ll you and Lead do?” Manifest kept his eyes to the periscope.

“Don’t worry about us. There are enough tanks out on repairs that we can pick up some spare gunners to load. I doubt that every tank will be back up at the same time again with the rate they’re wearing out, so we won’t have to worry about being one pony down.”

“Glad to hear that you’ll still be doing what you want to be.”

“I don’t really want to be doing this, Deadeye. I just have to. Maybe a gunner can get a free ride home, but not a T.C.”

“Well maybe you don’t want to be doing this, but if tomorrow morning they said you could just go home, would you?”
The question made Manifest pause. He hadn’t thought about it. That by itself was strange, considering how Deadeye was going to be taking the ride home tomorrow. He had thought plenty about Deadeye going home, even wondered where he would go and what he would do, but Manifest had yet to think about it for himself.

“It isn’t a 50 point question on a final exam.” Deadeye said, “it shouldn’t be that hard to answer.”

“If everypony could just go home, and they did, then we give up and lose the war.”

“Not everypony commander, just you.”

“Then it wouldn’t be fair to everypony who has to stay.”

Deadeye put a hoof to his forehead and sighed.”Freakin’ Commander Equestria here,” He muttered. “Forget fairness, nopony would hold it against you if you left, in fact they all say you earned it and give you a medal to boot. Would you leave?”

“No.” Manifest answered immediately.

“Why?”

He had answered before he had thought of a reason, and had to search for a justification. Too long. “Celestia, you don’t even know, do you?” Deadeye said.

“I gave you two reasons,” Manifest said defensively.

“I told you they didn’t matter. And you said that you don’t like doing this. So what would keep you?”

“Wait, I already told you” Manifest said in annoyance, “If I’m not here then more of our guys don’t get to go home when this is all over.” The way that Deadeye was questioning him was getting on his nerves. “So stop acting like I’m some sort of crazed murderer for not wanting to desert my post.”

Manifest had hoped that that would shut Deadeye up, but the pony immediately tensed up, his eyebrows furrowing as he glared at Manifest. “If you stop acting like I’m some sort of coward for not wanting to kill ponies.” Manifest was the one who was quieted. He lightly tapped his head against the turret wall. ‘Way to go, jerk,’ He thought to himself. He didn’t even know why he had gotten so annoyed.

“I’m sorry,” Manifest said.

“It’s fine.” Deadeye replied. “I’m going to need to get used to hearing that.”

Manifest cocked his head. “Hearing what?”

“That I’m a coward, for leaving.”

Manifest felt a wave of revulsion. “Noponys going to call you a coward. Everybody back home is better than that.”

“Maybe they won’t call me that, but they might be thinking it. I mean, you implied it.”

“Because I was being a jerk, deadeye, no one’s going to blame you for coming home.”

“Eh, they might.”

Maybe Manifest was still spun up from whatever it was that was annoying him earlier, or maybe the heat was messing with his temperament, but the thought of anypony berating Deadeye after what he had been through made him near furious. “If anypony, anypony, calls you a coward for coming home early, without having been here and living through this, you call me, and I’ll buck their teeth out.”

Well, uh, thanks, I guess.” Deadeye said, looking at manifest with only a hint of surprise. “Kinda a violent way to show that you give a crap about me, but thanks.” He looked slightly past manifest, his eyes losing focus. “I don’t think I could let you do that to everypony though.”
Manifest followed deadeyes gaze to the picture taped up on the turret wall, with the stallion and colt. “Your brother?” Manifest asked.

"Yeah.”

“And you think that he might think that you’re a coward?”

Deadeye nodded grimly. “I try to be somepony that he can look up to. If I make a mistake, I tell him how to avoid it. I help him when he needs it. I give him advice... I try to be the best brother that that little punk deserves, you know?” manifest didn’t, he was an only child, but Deadeye kept on. “And I’m just afraid that when I get back, he’ll think a bit less of me.”

“He won’t.”

“How the hay do you know what a little spuddy pony like that will and won’t do?”

“He shouldn’t.”

“But he might anyway.” Deadeye said. He looked back at the picture. “And it freaks me right out.”

Manifest looked over at the picture as well, but his mind had drifted elsewhere. Would Amber think poorly of him if he left? Would his parents? He’d like to think not, but as Deadeye had pointed out, he couldn’t predict what other ponies would do. A shiver ran through him despite the tanks heat. He had an inkling of an understanding of Deadeye’s fears, and it almost scared him.
“Well, there is a way that nopony will call you a coward.” Manifest said.

Deadeye cocked his head in curiosity, then his mouth dropped in a look of near disgust. “Dear Celestia, really? Really?” he shook his head. “I don’t believe it, I just don’t believe it. I don’t believe you. How much clearer do I have to make myself? There is nothing that you can do that can convince me to stay in-“

A high pitched scream of metal on metal obliterated Deadeye's sentence as Manifest’s head was thrown sideways into the periscope. His hooves flailed for something to break his fall, and latched onto the 6 pounder as the tank ground to a rapid halt beneath him. His head rung from the impact on the periscope, and only the thick padding on it saved him from serious damage. “Deadeye! You okay!?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Deadeye mumbled, more than a little shocked as he picked himself from the floor of the turret. Manifest clambered back into the gunner’s seat and reached for his throat mike.

“Lead, the hay was that?!”

“The Dukes crashed.”

Manifest pulled himself up to the periscope and put his face to the padding. His vision outside was obscured by a hazy yellow cloud of dust, but the mass of Sure Shot’s tank was unmistakable. Manifest panned the periscope left, looking for the Duke’s tank. Lining the left side of the road was thick brush, with trees jetting out over the bushes. Manifest couldn’t see the Duke’s tank, so he began panning back right. A sudden movement in the corner of his eyes arrested him, his body tensing. He looked to it quickly, and felt a wave of relief flow through him. It wasn’t an ambush, not yet anyway. The Duke’s green and gold pendant was wrapped up in a branch, the pole that held it swaying beneath.
“Lead, reverse 50 yards.” Manifest ordered. The Flyer shuddered beneath them as the gears clunked into position, then the tank lurched backward. Manifest hit the transmit button on his throat mike. “Duke, you and your crew OK?” he released and waited for the response as the Flyer trundled backward. On his left he could see a large gap open up in the brush, no doubt caused by the Duke’s tank, but from this angle he couldn’t see where it had ended up. The radio remained silent. “Duke, do you copy?”

The slight sound of static was the only response that manifest could hear as the tank continued backward, and Manifest began to feel unnerved. The seconds of silence dragged on for far too long, each one raising Manifest’s concerns until he spotted the Duke’s tank. the relief that he felt upon seeing it was slight at best. The tank rested at the end of a path of gouged earth and decimated vegetation. Manifest could see smaller trees snapped like toothpicks, and a sizable oak simply ripped out of the ground. it was this oak that the tank rested upon, listing at a near obscene angle. The pennant had been ripped right off of the tank, the pole that it was attached to still swaying from the collision.

“Lieutenant, come in!” Manifest said forcefully. The static continued, unmoved by his intensity. “Come in!”

The radio squawked, and Manifest felt a glimmer of hope grow within him. “What happened? Can you see him?” The glimmer snuffed out as soon as Sure Shot’s voice came in.

“The Duke crashed, I see him.” Manifest said curtly, nearly annoyed that Sure Shot was the one answering. Manifest knew he was alright, but the continued silence from the duke’s tank made him fear the worst. “Lieutenant, are you there?” only the rumbling of the engine on idle replied.

“How’s his tank look?” Sure Shot asked.

“Looks fine to me.” Manifest answered, “The flagpoles ripped off.”

“Manifest, he put his flag on the radio antenna.”

“Ohhhhh…” Manifest felt his stomach sink. There was no way to communicate with the Duke’s tank. Worse, that was the only radio amongst them powerful enough to reach any other tanks in the area. There was no way to call in the cavalry.

“Are there any flags? Has it moved at all?” Sure Shot’s voice was now near frantic, and it wasn’t doing Manifest’s nerves any favors.

“Nothing, not at all.” Manifest heard an engine rev, and despite his better judgement allowed himself to think that the Duke’s tank had roared to life. No telltale smoke erupted from the Duke’s exhaust, and Manifest put the notion down.

“I’m coming back there.” Sure Shot said. Manifest turned his periscope forward, and saw Sure Shots tank roll backwards past his. The engine’s noise cut out from behind him, and the radio popped back on. “Still nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Crap… I guess that means that I’m in charge.” Sure Shot said quietly. The radio went silent.

“Sure Shot?”

“Just gimme a minute, I need to think.” The radio went quiet again. Manifest waited for his reply, looking intently at the Duke’s tank for any signs of movement. Periscopes, flags, anything. Still none.

“You think they’re ok?” Deadeye's voice cut the silence, but Manifest stayed focused on the tank, as though if he concentrated on it enough it would do something, anything. He briefly pondered his answer, wondering if he should try and make his crew feel better.

Manifest heard a snort on the radio. “You know commander, someday we’re going to have to play poker. I’ll clean you out. You think they’re all dead?”

“I hope not.”

“But what do you think?”

“I don’t know.”

“It was a really bad looking crash.” Lead Hooves interjected, the concern in his voice transparent. “It threw a track and just went into brush at full speed.” Manifest looked at the tracks, and indeed the left one was missing from the tank, the driving wheel clearly visible.

“Manifest, come in.” Sure Shot said.

“Read you.”

“I need you to send your driver out to check on the Duke’s tank, have him knock on the hatch. I’ll cover trees to the right, you cover left. Canisters.”

Manifest shook his head. “If my driver gets ambushed, then this tank isn’t getting out of here. We can’t drive, and we have to get out of the tank to get to the drivers position.”

“Crap, you’re right. Send your gunner then.”

Manifest looked over at Deadeye, who was watching his expressions. Clearly he gave something away, because Deadeye tensed up slightly. “Uh, my gunner isn’t fit for this, I’ll go.”

“The hay you will!” Sure Shot said authoritatively. “I may only kinda know what the buck I’m doing, but I know that I am not sending out a TC into a potential ambush with a gunner that won’t shoot backing him up.”

Sure Shot had the correct argument, and Manifest knew that he was right. None of that meant that he could send Deadeye out. Manifest glanced at the pony next to him, Deadeye couldn’t hear what was transpiring on the radio, but he knew enough to look worried. Manifest didn’t know what to say.

“Manifest, do you copy?”

“Yeah… I, uh…” Manifest stumbled over his words. Deadeyes look wasn’t helping him feel any better about this. “I don’t want to send him out there without knowing where the Unicornians positions are.”

“I don’t want to either, but we have to check on the duke, and I don’t see another way. Do you?” The last part of Sure Shot’s statement was a plea, begging for a way out of this plan. Manifest couldn’t think of an alternative.

“No,”

A burst of static in his ear toyed with his hopes, but it was only a long exhalation from Sure Shot. “Ok, tell him, give me the word when he’s ready.”

“Copy.” Manifest said, and he let go of the transmit button. He looked over to Deadeye, who looked nervous. Manifest glanced away. He couldn’t look at this pony that was hours away from going home. “Deadeye, I need you to go out there and establish contact with the Duke’s tank.” There was a pause, and Manifest subconsciously braced for a fight.

“Copy that.”

Manifest looked over, surprised at Deadeyes acceptance. “Is that the whole plan?” The pony looked unsure, but his voice was not.

“Me and the other tank will cover your flanks, just make it quick.” Deadeye nodded, and let out a nervous chuckle.

“Trust me, I will.” He looked up at the hatch, then reached for his canteen and took a large swig of water.

“Load a canister for me.” Manifest said. He put his eye up to the sights, and traversed the turret to aim to the left of the crashed tank. he felt the breech block drop through the rubber padding at his shoulder and with a metallic ‘shink’ the round slid in, terminating with a violent ‘chunk’ as the block slammed shut. A faint red light shined at the edge of manifests vision.

“Just wanted to let you know, I loaded that for me, I mean, I’m the one whose flank’s on the line.”

Manifest looked away from the sights, and turned his attention to the radio behind him. He noticed the .30 cal sitting atop it. “You want the machine gun?”

Deadeye followed Manifests eyes to the gun, and he burst out laughing, then quickly composed himself. “First I’d have to be able to pick it up.”

“The bomb launcher then?” Manifest asked.

Deadeye shook his head. “It would just slow me down. Besides, I wouldn’t use it anyway.”

“Okay,” Manifest said. Deadeye put his eyes back to the periscope. Although the pony was looking, he wasn’t seeing. His thoughts were elsewhere. Manifest felt conflicted, like he was looking at a condemned pony who had turned down the offer for a last request. “Grenades, or anything?”

“Nope. Just send me out before I think about it too much.”

“Alright.” Manifest said, and he hit the transmitter back on. “Sure Shot, we’re ready here.”

“Good, send him out.”

Manifest nodded, and let the button go. He turned to Deadeye. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Deadeye backed up from the periscope, undid the latch, and took a deep breath. ”be back in a minute.” The hatch flew open, and the light of the sun blinded manifest for barely a second, but by the time he could see again the commander’s seat was empty, and he could hear the sound of hooves on the armor. He magically threw the hatch shut and latched it as he put his eyes back to the gunsight. Deadeye had already halved the distance to the Duke’s tank, and was at a full gallop. Manifest tensed up his hoof on the trigger as he scanned the foliage for any movement, but there was none. Deadeye leapt under the Duke’s tank, and disappeared into the shadows beneath.
And now there was silence. No gunfire that he could hear, no yelling of orders, no thudding of Unicornian hooves on the armor that he may have expected when the hatch was thrown open. Only the steady idling of the engine rumbling through the compartment. Through his scope he could see the limbs of the trees sway with the wind, but no figures hid there.

More specifically, no figures could be seen in the field of view that he had. As he waited for any signs of life, from Deadeye or the Dukes tank, the thought that the enemy was out there just beyond his vision began to eat away at him. He wanted to look, but if he went to the periscope to do so he would abandon the gun. If during the time that it took for him to transition there was an ambush, Deadeye would be half defenseless. And it would be Manifest’s fault if anything happened. He stayed behind the trigger.

But as the seconds of silence dragged on without end in sight, Manifest felt the pull of curiosity eating away at his resolve. Leaving the gun could be the wrong choice, but at the same time not looking for enemies through the periscope could be as well. He didn’t recall seeing anything in the woods before, and there wasn’t any movement now. There could have been no Unicornians in the area to begin with. Another look could satisfy him. Manifest took his hoof off the trigger.

From the shadows underneath the Duke’s tank, he saw movement. Manifest froze, and concentrated on the darkness. The movement stopped, then Deadeye's face slowly pushed out from the veil of the shadows into the late morning sun. Manifests heart nearly stopped. He knew that Deadeye would have to expose himself to complete this task, but Manifest sat in fear that he would watch his gunner die through the sight in a matter of seconds. Deadeye crawled out further, his forehooves and body sliding out from under the tank. Slowly and exposed, no speed to save him now. Manifest hardly dared to breathe. Deadeye crawled all the way out and stood up, looking into the woods and panning his head around slowly. Apart from that he didn’t move for seconds.

Slowly, as Deadeye turned and hopped up onto the back of the Duke's tank, Manifest began to think against his better judgment that there was no danger outside. Deadeye clambered up to the turret and knocked on the hatch. Manifest could see the gunners periscope spin, and felt another hint of relief, somepony at least was alright in there. The hatch cracked open, and Manifest could see Deadeye talk. The hatch shut, and Deadeye turned and galloped back. Manifest opened the hatch as Deadeye hopped up onto the top of the tank, and Deadeye climbed inside as quickly as he could. Manifest threw the hatch back closed.

Manifest exhaled a breath that he didn’t know he kept. “Oh Celestia, I’m glad you’re ok.”

“You’re glad?” Deadeye said sarcastically “I’m the one running out there with my flank in the wind.” He reached for his canteen and started gulping it down.

Manifest nodded once. He had a point. He almost continued the conversation when the burden of command came back to him. He shook his head as if to shake off any levity that he could muster and looked back to Deadeye. “Are they OK?”

Deadeye stopped drinking. “No.” Manifest stopped breathing, for a second. He had been afraid that they could be injured, or… but the confirmation hit him like a low blow. Deadeye read Manifest’s look of horror, and quickly pressed on. “Noponys dead, the gunner and driver are fine, but the Duke is out cold, and his head is bleeding pretty bad. The gunner is bandaging him up as best as he can.”

“Oh.” Manifest said, the news only being a slight relief to him. He fumbled for the transmitter. “Sure shot. The Duke is unconscious and wounded.”

“Crap. The other two?”

“They’re fine.”

“Geez, I guess that I really am in charge now.” Sure Shot said. There was a pause in the transmissions. “Are they patching the Duke up?”
“Yes”

“Well that’s good.” Sure Shot said. Silence again. “Ok, let’s grab the Duke and his crew, douse their tank with whatever gas they have left, burn it and shoot it with as much anti-concrete as we can, and head back to base.”

Something about the plan didn’t sit right with Manifest. “Where will the crew go?”

“I guess on the back of one of our tanks.” Sure Shot may have been in charge, but his voice gave no indication of the sort. Manifest shook his head

“They’d be totally exposed, and we have no clue where the Unicornians are at. We may have passed them and could run into a group of them retreating on our way back.”

“I guess that’s a risk we’d have to take?” no mistake there, that was a question, not a statement.

“If we repair the tracks, then we wouldn’t have to have them riding exposed. Manifest said.

“We can’t take the time to repair the tracks, like you said, we have no idea where the Unicornians are at.” Manifest shook his head ‘if only the Duke briefed us, we’d know where the hay everything is supposed to be and what the hay we’re doing before we’re bucking doing it’ he thought. Despite being injured, the Duke had managed to both inhibit them and also engender virtually no sympathy to his plight. ‘If I had the briefing-‘and there was the solution.

“We need to get this morning’s briefing.” Manifest said, “That would have the Unicornians movements and we can make a plan from there.”

“Oh, yeah. Makes sense. Do that.”

Manifest turned to Deadeye, who had been listening. “I’ll get it.” He threw open the hatch again. ”I’m gonna ask for a raise if I have to do this again.” With that he leapt out.

Manifest got back on the gun. But this time the wrenching concern that he felt the first time Deadeye went out was diminished. Now he expected nothing to happen. Quickly his brain crushed this complacency. ‘You know the second you let your guard down, that’s when ponies will die.’ Deadeye hopped up onto the top of the Duke’s tank, and knocked on the hatch. Manifest waited, hoof on the trigger again. The hatch opened, Deadeye talked for a moment, and then a folder was passed out him. He took it in his mouth, and galloped back. Manifest opened the hatch and let him back in.

“Here, all the stuff the Duke was working on.” Manifest opened up the file, and quickly shifted through the excess papers to get to the Duke’s map. He folded it open and looked, trying to compare it mentally to where he had pegged them. From a glance he could tell that they had penetrated the Unicornians retreat. The map was marked with several notifications of troop locations, and times they were spotted, as well as the locations of the rest of the company’s tanks. They were far ahead of the others for some reason, all of the company’s other tanks were right behind Unicornian troops, nipping at their heels and herding them further east. He looked to where he had last placed them, and nearby he saw a large X positioned on what appeared to be a railway line, with the time 9:30 written next to it. Manifest looked at his watch. It was about 9:15.

Manifest flipped through the Duke’s papers to the morning’s briefing and read with a newfound case of urgency. In 15 minutes something was supposed to happen and the Duke’s obstructions had made sure that he had no clue what it was. He did not like what he saw or read.

Operation Firefighter

:

This platoon has been selected for combat record and prowess to find and destroy enemy rail asset known as ‘Wrecker.’ Ambush point, time, and route as indicated on map. Enemy asset must be disabled to point that it is unrecoverable. Success of this mission is vital to continuing offensive operations.

Beneath this was a photo taken from the air of a train in station, entitled ‘Wrecker’. The train shown was relatively short: a pair of locomotives in the middle, a mix of boxcars and flatbeds making up most of the consist, a crane and flatbed at the front, two other cars that appeared to be crane cars sans booms toward the front and rear, and what looked to be a flatcar with a large hook facing downward at the back. This caught his eye, because it looked like no other car he had ever seen. It appeared as if the hook could be lowered to dig into the tracks behind the train. He looked at the tracks in the photo. Out ahead of the train they were fine, behind it they were mangled.
Manifest had heard of the wrecker. Nearly everypony had heard of how the all the rails heading east were mangled beyond repair in an act either of desperation or cruelty.

Manifest had a sudden sinking feeling. The ambush spot on the map was close to where he had last positioned them before he started talking with Deadeye. They had driven on for another few minutes after that. Wherever they were, it was going to be close to the rail line, but Manifest didn’t know how close close was. He put his eyes up to the periscope and looked. No signs of any railway in front of him. He spun it right to face the west, nothing but an open field and a row of trees that edged it to the right, manifest kept turning the periscope until it faced the rear of the tank.

“Oh… great.”

Hardly 50 yards behind them, the road crossed a railroad track. Manifest looked at the treeline that he now knew ran next to the rails. It was patchy and nonuniform, with gaps throughout. He spun the periscope back to the Duke’s tank. There was no way anypony on the train could possibly miss the path of destruction that the Duke’s tank made, nor the hulking mass of the tank itself. He looked back at the picture of the Wrecker. The first two cars of the train were a crane and flatcar, and he knew what the Unicornians would do with them if they saw the Duke’s tank.

“Manifest, have you got the Duke’s stuff? What’s the situation?” Sure Shot asked. Manifest hesitated, then clicked the transmitter.
“We are behind the Unicornians lines, and we have been tasked with destroying the Wrecker. Which will come within spitting distance of us in about 15 minutes.”