Friendship is War
Chapter 1: Due awakening
Johnathan Vanderveld cursed the world around him as his hands fumbled to strike a light. His hands trembled from the cold and nerves as his numb fingers desperately attempted to kick the lighter into action. The nightmarish landscape around him, grey and barren, gave no comfort. He grew more and more annoyed as the fire refused to come. His brownish trenchcoat was moist from the damp fog that clung to them and the drips that echoed as they splashed unto his helmet. Even leaning against the broken down tank and under the cover of the remnants of a bombed building, reminding him of a city only as much as a roadkill carcas reminded him of an animal, he grew wet and tired. And all he wanted was the sigaret in his hands.
Well, that, and to go home... Home wasn't this war-torn mess of a country. Eyeing the apocalyptic landscape around him, he understood why his forefathers had left Europe behind and moved to the land of opportunity. Germany was a disaster. But perhaps that is what you got when you let madmen rule. The stories of the camps he'd heard days prior still rang inside his head, sickening him to his core. He'd never had much love for this place, but they'd settled it. Never before had he been this homesick. He feared these lands. He feared the darkness they showed man had in him. The horrible things he could accomplish. And the emptyness that left behind. He hated this place and he feared more then ever, now at the close, that he'd die here. In the darkest page of mankind's history.
"Are you quite done corporal?" His commanding officer, lieutenant Peter Donolin, demanded brusquely.
"Almost." He grunted, sweat pouring down his head. "Gotcha!"
The relief was so overwhelming, for a second he even forgot what a small thing it was. Bringing the flame to the smoke, he inhaled deeply and felt the tobacco hit his lungs like a welcome bastard. It was a lie, be it a small one, that comforted him that everything would be alright. And in that moment he returned to Louisville, Nebraska. He wasn't some twenty-six year old corporal in Germany, april 1945. He was a teacher, just three years prior. Yet it seemed a lifetime ago. He walked amongst his first pupils with an unmistakeable pride in his step and a pipe clenched between his teeth as they focussed on their tests. He had a smile back then. And why not? He had a future too. A bright one. And the girl of his dreams didn't hurt neither. The most lovely girl in all of Nebraska. He'd return to her loving arms each night. Smell Doreen's auburn hair, mixed with the sweet smell of her cooking. He missed her most of all. She was what home truly was.
And there had been talk of a child too. Or two. Or three. But that had been before all this darkness. He dully wondered if he could ever return to it all. Ever truly leave all this chaos and murder and bloodshed and cruelty behind. He doubted it, with all his heart. Could he be a teacher again, rather than tool for destruction? A loving husband, rather than a brainless soldier? A father, instead of the bringer of death?
He tried not to think about it. Thinking got you killed. And with the Führer and his forces pushed all the way back into Berlin, Nazi central, it would be a shame to die now. So close to finally getting out of this living nightmare.
"Thanks." He said, exhaling the relieving drag. Reminding his place in the hierarchy, he added: "Sir."
His commanding officer gave him a short nod. It was accentuated by his sharp features. As someone who had never been able to really grow a beard outside of a few patches here and there, Johnathan envied his lieutenant and peers. The lieutenant, ten years his senior, had forgotten to shave one day, and already he had more of a stubble than Johnathan could hope to grow in a month's time. And it worked well on the man's broad chin and defined features. It was as dark as his eyes and his serious brow. And they meant business, he could read it.
"Alright men." Lieutenant Donolin said, gesturing towards the map on the worn-down table. It looked like it would fall apart any second. "We're here. About six clicks from Wittenberge." He spoke, pointing towards a green part of the landscape. "Private Hinds managed to get into contact with the britts."
Hinds, a man of about Johnathan's age but with a crooked nose, blond hair unlike his own black and thick glasses smiled proudly as the man next to him, private Jennings clapped him on the shoulder. Jennings looked like he came right out of school before he got dragged to their little private place in hell. And probably he did. But this was one young man corporal Vanderveld was happy not to have had to teach. What Jennings lacked in years, he made up for in attitude and confidence. Johnathan might've only been seven years his senior, but he'd left behind the young man's sense of immortality a long time ago. Tobias Jennings seemed to cling to it, despite the horrible reality around him. Perhaps that's what he needed to do in order to survive.
"They've had some trouble, but half of their team got through the enemy lines and they managed to secure one raft." The lieutenant continued.
"Half of their forces?" Private Appleseed mocked in his cynical tone that Vanderveld had come to know so well. His thin smile on his thin, ginger face displayed no joy. "That's a rich way of saying two." Instantly the thirty-year old, former factory worker returned to cleaning his sniper rifle.
Johnathan could tell his commanding officer didn't enjoy the man's attitude. John himself couldn't help but agree. But he understood Brian Appleseed too. They'd lost too many friends and had seen too many things not to let it get to them. Jack "madman" Cleveland, the explosives guy... Sam "sour eye" Zührman, the spotter... Adam Dedieux, their mechanic... Garfield 'Doc' Meddins... And even young Peter Halberd... All lay somewhere rotting, and feeding maggots. There were many homes like those waiting for him in Nebraska, that would go on waiting for eternity.
"We'll meet them at the crossing of Elbehof and cross the Elbe there." The lieutenant continued, ignoring the insolence. "From there it will be a rather short march to the Ahnenerbe estate. We'll have to revise our plan on any information the Britts can give us when we meet up. But right now, I'm thinking Vanderveld, Jennings, Appleseed and me for reconaissance. Hinds, you are to stay behind with our two ferrymen. If we don't return at the designated time, you are to order HQ to bomb the hell out of the institute."
"Guess I should've been a radio-geek." Appleseed noted drylybefore blowing the dust from one of the compartiments of his rifle.
"And miss out on killing all those Nazi fucks?" Jennings joked heartily. "Come now."
"Oh yes, because catching bullets is much more fun than cowering from a distance."
"I don't need to hear that from you." Their radio-guy declared with a tone-of-voice Johnathan would have once not thought possible from the once meek Glen Hinds.
War changed people.
"Gentlemen." Their leader intervened. "We're all tired. We're all stressed. We're all cold and wet."
Johnathan found himself nodding as he finised half of his smoke.
Donolin continued. "But we're all in this together. And if we pull this off... I believe we're done."
Appleseed's laugh was hollow.
"No I mean it, private." Donolin reassured him, in a hard tone. "The bulk of our forces are storming Berlin. And on the other side the Commies are doing their very best to beat us to it. The Führer's trapped inside his little bunker and we couldn't reach him or any other Nazi stronghold before that upjumped bastard is hanged."
"So if this war is over, Sir..." Appleseed interjected, overstressing the last word. "Why we gotta risk our lives for this research institute. Let 'em take Berlin. And once the Hitler's dead, they'll surrender willingly. What's the sense in sending half a team in, other than getting us killed?"
"I told you, we're the only ones close enough to the mark, according to HQ." Hinds challenged.
Johnathan knew this to be true. The ambush had cost them two of their number and had driven them far more north into a wasteland of past European cities.
"That's not what I meant, four eyes. I mean: what's so special about his place, and why can't it wait? What are they going to do?"
"They still have missiles there. They could launch them." Donolin explained.
"Launch them where? Their communications-network is being interfered with, Hinds said so himself. They are blind, cut off from theirs and ours. They have no idea what they'll hit if they launch."
"Not if they try to hit the mainland of Europe." Johnathan brought up casually.
He hadn't meant anything by it. But Appleseed shot him an accusing look. Perhaps no more could Jonathan's silence be seen as agreement.
"So they're going to attack the Brittish?" Appleseed mocked sensitivity. "Then send those two "chaps" in. It's their country after all. Besides, what's bombing London going to accomplish at this point anyway? Why would they even bother?"
Johnathan's eyes fell on his lieutenant who exhuberated a sense of graveness. Not a grave sense of something, just graveness. Corporal Vanderveld realized it wasn't only his that found him. The entire team watched him expectantly.
"Reports indicate..." Peter Donolin spoke slowly and deliberatly. "That the Nazi scientists were working on a way to launch their V2 rockets to anywhere in the world with unparalleled precision. And though we don't know how they mean to achieve this, we understand they've been making progress. If they've gotten far enough, it's not just London we need to worry about. The entire American mainland would be at risk. New York. Chicago... Washington DC. If they've gotten far enough, they could wipe out any political, military and economical stronghold they desire overnight..." A silence befell the group. One that their leader took advantage off at the appropriate time. "It's a lot of ifs and buts. But if this is true, it's one chance, no matter how small, we must do our best to deny them. If it's not operational yet, we must wait before bombing them, it could come in handy in keeping the Russians in check after the war. But if they are ready or close to ready to launch, their weapons of mass destruction must be destroyed at all costs."
Appleseed cast his eyes to the ground, resigning his fate due to the horrid news. Even if he'd been a prick, Vanderveld couldn't help but sympathise. This entire ordeal had been one giant nightmare. And now, with them waking up from it, it seemed like the monsters that plagued their dreams came in strong, determined to get them before they could escape the dreamscape.
"So..." Jennings said, smirking slightly despite everything. "Send in us four. It's our country after all."
"Any more questions?" The lieutenant asked.
Johnathan took the last drag of his sigarette. He flicked it aside as he exhaled loudly. All eyes were on him now. He grabbed his rifle, and did his best to maintain eye-contact with the others.
"Who's ready to win this war and go home?" he asked.
Sonderführer Hans Freimann tried his best to focus. A hard thing to do with all this noise and these sparks and hasty stümpers running about. But as a German, he prided himself in being efficiënt even in the most trying of times. At the age of fifty-two, he knew he had had his best years behind him. But he refused to lie down and let his biggest achievement go unfinished. He would not finish this for the Americans. And he would not finish it for the communists. He'd finish for the Reich. Even if the Reich was finished.
Filled with determination and frustration he angrily crossed out some of the mathmatical formula on his notepad. His handwriting was sloppy and ugly. Not befitting of a Herr Doktor, he knew. It was his one weakness. The cramping pains and strains he'd inherited from his father's side from birth onward had always kept him writing efficiëntly. No matter how many times his teachers slapped his wrists and fingers with their ledgers.
The heat in the great hall of the castle at the castle of Wittenberge was immense. Small wonder concidering the blowtorches his men were utilizing the entire time. The entire hall buzzed with energy. Wiping the sweat from his brow and straightening his black, military uniform and his small glasses, the Sonderführer reflected that it was all like a dream. The entire Reich had been a dream, he knew. A dream imagined by someone strong enough to pass it on to a Nation. But it had become his dream too. And now, with the allied forces on their doorstep, he was waking up. And the harder he and his few loyal men struggled to keep the dream alive, the faster it seemed to slip through their fingers and dissapear into the corners of their minds, where long forgotten memories went to die.
But he'd make the world remember. He'd make damn sure. They could forget about the weak ones. Like the half that had abandoned them, fled the castle. They'd captured and shot about half of those, but they didn't matter. The weak never mattered to the strong. But they would not forget strength. Not true strength. And he'd show them power unlike any other they'd ever seen.
"Heil Hitler." A voice called him from his thoughts.
Turning to the right and away from his creation, Doktor Freimann found the young SS-Sturmscharführer Otto Habsburger. Otto was a small, and sleek young man with a sharp nose and thin, blond eyebrows and watery eyes. They looked up at him from below his cap. The man's right arm remained outstretched.
"Heil Hitler. " Doktor Freimann returned, they both lowered their arms. "What is it Sturmscharführer?" He asked. "How is progress going?"
"Preparations are going well enough, Sonderführer. We will have your device up and running before long. All we will need are your final calculations." The young officer spoke with his Bavarian accent.
"And you will have them." The Doktor promissed. "Is there another reason why you are keeping me from my work Herr?"
The Bavarian seemed to need a moment to choose his words. "You are aware that our communications are a mess?" He asked eventually.
"Still no word from Berlin?"
"Nein." The young officer sighed. "But our men have been picking up some other disturbances. Unlike the constant blurring of our signals."
"You think it is the allied sending eachother messages on their secured channels."
"Jawohl." The Sturmscharführer nodded brusquely. "Short distance. They can not be too far off."
Decisively, Doktor Freimann turned from his comrade and walked towards the missile lying on it's side, held up by wooden beams, in the middle of the room. His hand trailed over the fine, cold, black metal and found the red, white and black swastika emblem. The dream was ending, he could feel it. But not yet. Not yet. After a few seconds he removed his hands and commanded the young officer.
"Then we have no time. Your men will work twice as fast. And twice as hard. And we will not focus on the power-reduction problem for now. We must have our first launch before nightfall."
"You will not work on the power-reduction?" The young man asked bewildered. "But at this rate we have two, maybe three times enough essence from our collection of mystical artifacts. We can not destroy all of the Reich's enemies with just three launches?"
"Das est richtig." The Sonderführer nodded in agreement, placing his hand on the young man's shoulder. With the other, he pointed towards his prize invention. The great round, vertical circle stood taller than any two men on eachother's shoulder. The V2 rocked aimed straight at it, amidst rows of large machinery. Stone, metal and wires. For now the circle was nothing more. But the potential this creation had. The doorway it could be... Those possibilities fueled them all. "But we can keep the dream alive with it. Besides, with the right coördinates, all the essence we need will be ours. No matter the cost." The young officer seemed unconvinced, but to his credit, he seemed to be doing his best to avoid showing it to his superior. "Otto." Freimann said, breaking formality. "Vertrauen Sie mir."
The young officer swallowed and raised his right arm. "Heil Hitler." He declared, deepening his brow.
"Heil Hitler." The Doktor agreed.
Princess Celestia looked out to the setting sun from her favorite balcony. This had always been a moment of peace for her. A chance to enjoy a day's work well done and, since recently as a long time before, to let her sister take the reins. And yet now, the bright yellow orb turning red and troubled did nothing to relax her nerves. An uneasyness had claimed her and seemed not to let go. There was trouble brewing, the alicorn could sense it. But what it was, or when it would reveal itself, of that she had no clue. This only aggravated her further. So many subjects to protect. And not a clue as how to prepare. And as one worry fueled another... it seemed like nothing could break the vortex that was building up.
"Your Highness?" A familiar voice rang out behind her.
Well, perhaps not nothing could break it. The sound of her protégé's kind, innocent inquiring voice was enough to make the monarch's heavy burden recede.
"Twilight Sparkle." The white Alicorn said as she turned to face the young, pale light grayish mulberry unicorn pony. The princess found she need not fake her smile, looking into those eyes that looked at her with such wonder and reverance. "My prized pupil." She said sweetly. "So good of you to have come to my invitation."
"Well..." The unicorn blushed embarrassedly, but happily. "Not like I'm going to refuse the Princess, now is it?"
"I hope that is not the only reason you felt compelled to visit?" The amused ruler of Equestria asked.
"No!" The young Twilight Sparkle was now fumbling for words, deathly afraid to have offended her mentor, friend and leader. "No. No, no, no. I didn't mean... I mean nothing like that... I..."
"Relax Twilight." The Princess offered, walking slowly towards the young unicorn. She placed he own neck against hers and pressed slightly. The protégé did the same. Their mains, hers a mixture of turqois, cobalt, cerulean and pale heliotrope and the unicorns a mix of blue, violet, purple and a single streak of rose, flowed into one another.
"It's good to see you." The princess noted, breaking the hug.
"Likewise." The eager-to-please unicorn agreed.
"I trust you've been shown to your chambers?" The monarch asked, walkign loftily inside the great throneroom.
"Yes." The unicorn trailed happily behind her. "They are most beautifull, thank you."
"It's the least I could do... Twilight, I do apologize summoning you here out of the blue. I can imagine you may have been worried you'd done something wrong or that something was wrong... It's just that I have a proposition for you, and I wanted to ask you in person."
"Your letter was quite vague." Twilight Sparkle admitted. "But if something was truly wrong, I would imagine you'd ask me to bring the girls and Spike."
"How are they?
"Oh everybody is doing great. Applejack's working on the next harvest. Fluttershy's just invented a new cream to help wounded animals and it's working wonders. Rarity is starting a new line of fashion. And Spike is caught up in that, being the little helper he is."
Celestia noted the conspiratal tone in her pupil's voice. She couldn't help but laugh. "Yes. I imagine he wouldn't say no to being in the same room as Rarity hours and hours and days and days on end."
"Honestly..." Twilight said, sniggering slightly. "They are all so busy, it's a good thing you didn't need to call upon them too."
"And the others, Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash, how are they?" The monarch asked as they exited the throne room and entered a brightly lit hallway.
"One is full of energy and the other quite the opposite."
The alicorn shot her younger friend a questioning look.
"Pinkie Pie is Pinkie Pie." The unicorn explained cheerily. "But Rainbow Dash just organized and participated in a new pegasi race. We all went to see it. Oh, you should attend next year, your highness! Rainbow Dash would be so honored."
"I would be delighted to. What's it called?"
"The Cloud Clash Dash."
The unicorn smiled with fond memories. The alicorn could almost read them, and was glad her protégé was enjoying herself so. She stopped and it took the transfixed unicorn a few seconds to realize she'd walked too far. Standing next to a red door, the princess asked her friend a question.
"Do you know what I keep behind this door?"
The young mare shook her head. "Neigh." She declared.
The alicorn's horn glowed and opened the doors by magic. Celestia could see the young mare's eyes widen as the doors swung open.
"I saved every last one of them." The Princess said, with a fondness in her vioce.
The unicorn forgot herself and dashed inside. In amazement she admired the care with which each and every one of her written lessons in friendship had been preserved and displayed. Some behind glass on the walls, other scrolls or parchment on red, velvet sheets. It was clear it touched her greatly how much the letters meant to her mentor. Celestia couldn't help but smile.
"It's wonderfull!" The unicorn declared, reading her own words with glee. Untill... "Hey..." She said abruptly, eyeing one of the letters. "Spike made spelling mistake here."
Seeing it as the perfect moment to intervene. The princess cleared her throat.
"Twilight?" She asked.
"Yes, your highness?" The unicorn asked, bowing her head in respect.
"There is a reason why I show you this. A forthnight ago I stood in this very room and was so impressed with your lessons and your writings, that I had an epiphany. Your studies in the magic of friendship these last years have been astounding."
"Please..." A blushing Twilight Sparkle begged her to stop honoring her.
"Nothing less than astounding, Twilight." The Princess continued unbidden. "It got me thinking. You've spend your entire life studying. Learning. Reading books. And making friends."
The unicorn dared look up now, her eager to learn eyes shooting the alicorn a questioning look.
"Yours is a life most remarkeable; filled with adventures and lessons that have helped you grow as a pony." The princess continued. "Yours is a mind that knows such great truths that should be open and clear to anypony. And, as you can clearly see around you, yours is a talent to convey such messages beautifully."
"Princess Celestia..." The unicorn started, her face deciding on weather to laugh with joy or embarrassement at the compliments or cry for the same reasons. "What is it you are saying?"
"I'm saying, my star pupil, that I believe you've spend enough time reading books for now." The monarch explained with a smile. "I think you should write one instead, on the friendship of magic."
"Ohmygosh..." The unicorn said, her voice shocked but clearly excited too. "You really believe I have that in me? You think I can do that?!"
"I know you can, Twilight. There is so much potential in you, you don't even realize it. You just need to dare to tap it."
"I'll do it!" The unicorn replied after a few seconds in which her brain had to catch up to all this new information. "I'll do it."
"And no better place to start, it would seem to me..." The princess spoke. "Than here, where all your source material is kept safe and sound."
"Yes." The young librarian agreed. "Yes! This is perfect. Thank you for... Oh my... This... This is wonderfull. Absolutley wonderfull! This feels like a dream. Oooh! I'll make this the best book yet, princess! I promise you. I'll make you proud!"
"You already have, young one." Celestia said, turning to leave the room.
She could hear the young mare scramble from scroll to scroll, deciding which to take to her chambers tonight. Celestia knew her student, and knew the unicorn wouldn't hit the hay before getting at least some work done. She was far too excited, far too eager and far too diligent for that. As she left her to it, Celestia felt better already.
There was a darkness approaching, she knew. But at least her pupil was safe and happy. At least she was doing something worthwhile and would be there to help if anything bad did happen. And whatever darkness might be approaching, how could the world's first and best book on the magic of friendship not help to strengthen ties and ponies of Equestria.
She just hoped it would be enough for the storm to come.