7:12 a.m. Canterlot Standard Time
The biped didn't step through the wormhole, not exactly. It backed through, so that the first clear view the observers had of the thing was of its buttocks, which would have been distinctly out of proportion on a minotaur twice the thing's size. Said buttocks were covered in a green and brown fabric pattern which was probably meant to blend in with any nearby foliage. Mostly covered. There was an exposed area along what, on a considerably slimmer specimen, might have been a waist. As it was -- a bulge. Multiple things certainly bulged out of that zone, and the youngest of the observers just barely managed to swallow back her nausea.
Unfortunately, the view continued without a change in angle for some time, as the creature was moving very slowly. More of the posture eventually became visible: hunched forward, forelegs ("Arms," the veteran helped the youngest) out in front of its body and reaching partially around what turned out to be a considerable belly. Grunting noises began to permeate the atmosphere as its mask-covered head cleared the portal -- and then the arms became more visible, along with what they were pulling: a dark green metal trunk with dark markings on it. The veteran had learned to read a few vital words in the most common languages, and it only took a second to pick one out: ammunition. Extras for the multiple weapons it had strapped across its wide back.
The figure straightened up as the wormhole closed, distortions of color spinning away into the air and briefly turning a few clouds into disturbing shades of mauve. There were a few grunts of pain, and it wiped at the tiny portions of its face which could be touched around the borders of the gas mask. Not enough of the heavy sweat was absorbed by the gloves. The biped stank. Nearly all of them stank, of course, and none of them ever seemed to realize that they could be scented on the approach from twenty body lengths away -- but this one was worst than most. In the pursuit of concepts like dimension jumping, world bridges, and quantum attunement, it had lost a few more basic ideas known as personal hygiene, tooth brushing, and especially shower -- although from the strength of the stench, that last one might not have ever registered at all.
"YES!" it shouted, with the vocal tones identifying the thing as male. "After all these months! I made it through! Time to conquer Equestria!"
"And thank you for saying that on your own," the veteran sighed. "No -- really. Usually we have to dance around it for a few minutes before something slips out, but you? Just went and declared it all by yourself. Very considerate of you, really. It lets us skip a few of the formalities."
The biped stiffened, grabbed one of the weapons off its back, tried to spin around -- but the mass of its belly threw it off, and the motion turned into more of an awkward stumble which needed a few seconds to stabilize. It still managed to keep the weapon more or less trained on the three ponies who had been watching it come through.
"Please understand," the middle-aged unicorn stallion continued, "the only reason you got this far is because we're familiar with the kind of wormhole you used. The six-hour drill, we call it. Ponies heard you coming for most of the night. It produces a whining noise on this side, did you know that? Very high-pitched. Extremely annoying. And we can't close it before it finishes going through the motions without doing a lot of damage to your side, which we're supposed to avoid for some reasons which generally don't make any sense, but -- orders." He shrugged dark blue shoulders. "And this is the next part of the orders, which I will follow because even though you're holding that thing, you haven't tried to use it yet." Quoting off a memorized script, tone directly stating there were many other things he'd rather be doing and all of them were painful for the parties involved. "Greetings. My name is Crossing Guard. My companions here are Border Patrol --" he nodded towards the stocky light brown earth pony on his right "-- and Barrier." A young-looking pale tangerine pegasus mare. "We're with the Canterlot Deportation Agency. You have entered Equestria without permission, very much without welcome -- and that was before you declared your intentions to -- what was that part again? Oh, right. To conquer it. But -- because of our orders and once again, the fact that you have yet to try and use that thing, I am supposed to offer you one chance to peacefully depart on your own. Normally, I would advise that you take it. But as it happens, I have an appointment this evening which I'd almost prefer to miss, so if you're going to cause any trouble, would you please cause so much that it keeps us all here until after the Sun goes down?"
Border Patrol blinked large black eyes at the unicorn. "Crossing, you know that isn't funny."
"Not funny to you," Crossing groaned. "Not until you get a chance to laugh behind my departing tail, it isn't... Luna's mane, it's only been a week since the last one..."
Barrier frowned uncertainly. "I... don't understand... appointment?"
"You will," Crossing sighed. "Eventually. So what about it, human? Leaving peacefully -- or otherwise?"
The human male blinked behind the gas mask, tried to futilely wipe sweat away from a covered brow with his free hand. "But..." Confused. "But -- I'm the first human to ever get here!" Disoriented. He clearly had no idea what was going on. Pluses all around for the CDA.
Crossing bitterly laughed. "You're the first -- since the Sun came up. In this area. I'd give you the full list of incursions since midnight, but you'd never believe me... again, human: you can leave peacefully of your own free will, or -- well, let's just say 'or' isn't the best of your options. Please speak your decision clearly. I'll need to write it down later for the paperwork." Not that he didn't already pretty much know exactly how this was going to go...
The human was sweating more heavily: somehow, that was possible. If he had been a pony, he would have passed the point of froth several minutes ago. Upset, with no idea how to deal with the overturn in what had clearly been some very grandiose and incredibly ill-conceived plans. He was facing resistance. Resistance which had been prepared for him.
Crossing could pick up bare bits of expression through the lenses over the eyes, had trained hard to read what they meant. This human was responding to surprise, disorientation, and resistance with anger. And anger meant --
-- the human screamed. "Stupid ponies! I planned on fighting you when I got here! I planned on taking over! You've just got your stupid pony magic! I've got technology! You're gonna be the first ponies to see what a human can do! You've never seen anything like this before -- and it's the last thing you'll ever see! Eat lead, you stupid candy-colored freaks!"
He pulled the trigger.
He kept pulling the trigger.
After several long seconds, it occurred to him that there might be a reason the trigger wasn't moving.
The human brought the gun up, looked at the trigger in confusion and fear, saw the red glow around it.
"Right," Crossing sighed again. "Technology. A gun, I know -- although I'm not certain of the exact model. Rapid-fire, I'm sure. Lots of those -- bullets -- coming out every second. Leading to lots and lots of dead ponies all over the landscape -- if you can make it work. And it doesn't work unless you can make that little shape move. Which you can't." He concentrated a little more: the primary corona around his horn intensified slightly. "You also brought -- greyneighs, is that the name? No? Oh, grenades -- thank you, Barrier, as I'm sure you're learning, there's a lot to memorize with this job -- anyway, it's an interesting idea. Pull the pin and throw. Or in this case, I just grip the pin. After I've already squeezed the thing holding it onto that strap so that you can't get it away from you. Now -- would you like me to show you just how well I can pull it?"
And there was a new stench in the air.
Actually -- two.
Border sighed a little himself. The sound coming from the stocky body was surprisingly deep. "Crossing -- was that necessary? Princesses, he smelled bad enough before..."
Barrier's tangerine coat had picked up a soft tinge of green. "Um... does that -- happen a lot?" The human had sunk to his knees, hands trying to cover the fresh wet patch in the fabric over its crotch -- which didn't do anything for the problem at the back.
"Yes," Crossing told her. "It's the smell of a job well-done. For the record, human -- would you like to go home now?"
"Please oh please don't pull it don't pull it I won't come back I won't come back I won't..."
The slow head shake was automatic. "Unfortunately, since nopony was actually hurt -- attempt to do so not withstanding -- regulations say I'm supposed to at least pretend I believe you on a first incursion," Crossing told the human, not even trying to keep the light growl out of his voice. "And even more unfortunately for you, I'm not that stupid. We're going to get some information from you. A lot of it. And please believe me when I say I can tell if you're lying or not and can do so without ever letting go of the pin. All right, human. Let's start with your name."
"Can -- can I get a -- tissue or something?"
"No."
9:45 a.m. CST
Of course, some problems more or less resolved themselves before the CDA ever showed up.
Barrier, who needed the experience with it (and so many other aspects of the job), interviewed the pony who had been the target of the incident, a solidly-built bright red earth young adult pony mare named Whispers, her coat color an exact match for the octagon on Crossing's flank. Based on the number of words reaching he and Border from all the way across her front yard, Crossing suspected Whispers' parents had been into naming for the sake of irony. He leaned against the fence -- whitewashed wood, not even close to the image of the barbed wire one Border sported -- and waited, idly grooming his black tail to pass the time.
Eventually, the pegasus came back. She looked as if she was trying very hard not to laugh, with limited success. Even the brick wall on her flank was quivering.
"Sum it up, Barrier," Crossing told her. "I saw the results -- let's hear how he got that way."
"Well -- he showed up in her bedroom."
"Yes, I saw that."
"And -- he pulled down his -- what's the word?"
"Lower body? If they went to the ankles, pants. Knees, then shorts. Crotch area only, underwear. Don't ask me why on any of those."
"Pants, then. With none of the -- underwear -- on. And he told her he was going to -- um... have... sex..." The horror briefly banished the repressed laughter -- briefly. "...with her."
Calmly, "Without her consent." Not the first time. And unfortunately, there was no way to make it the last.
She nodded. "She didn't even know he was in her house..."
"So what happened next?"
"She -- asked him if underendowment was a terminal disease wherever he came from and if he thought dying from it was supposed to get him a -- in her words, sir, 'mercy buck'."
Border indulged in a snicker -- but Crossing was much better at not laughing than the average pony. "Followed by?"
"She -- nearly turned it into a terminal disease..." The young pegasus couldn't hold it back any longer: she started laughing, wings vibrating as her short white mane shook with her. "I'm sorry, sir -- it's just that..."
"You can save the 'sir', Barrier," Crossing told her. "We're all on the same team here... Yes, it is funny. But it's funny because she got the best of him. They generally do. It's never funny if it goes the other way. It's all right to laugh at the stupid, though -- after, when it's safe. Believe me, there are teams exchanging stories during every break and at the end of each shift."
"Does -- does it ever go -- the other way?"
Crossing was silent for a long moment.
Border took over. "Not if the mare gets a chance to fight, Barrier. Or the stallion -- we've had more than a few of those. But some of them bring weapons. This one didn't. So... well, those are not going to grow back. No great loss to the future of his universe, I'm sure. Let's get our new gelding stitched up. Miss Whispers did us a favor, actually -- saves the ponies at the office a few minutes..."
11:18 a.m. CST
Sometimes you just had to talk, especially with the ones who thought they were smart. Border usually took over on those.
"...and I understand that you just want to research. But we just want you not to die. There's no way you could have known this and you can't go blaming yourself for it, but you can't eat here. And I don't mean a vegetarian diet: I appreciate that you thought that far ahead. It's just that -- all our proteins and sugars are flipped. It's the background radiation of the land's magic. Everything you have that's left-handed is right handed here, and the other way around. And it happens to anything brought in. The magic is attacking the food supplies you brought with you right now, and nothing we can do will stop or reverse it. You'll starve, sir, within days -- assuming not being able to process what we think of as 'water' doesn't dehydrate you to death first, and when your lungs stop being able to handle our air... oh, that background radiation isn't kind to your people, sir. You do understand, don't you? The effort you made to get here -- magnificent. The machine -- beautiful. And those brass levers? A classic touch. I'm proud to have seen it. But we don't want such a magnificent mind to be lost. So if you'll show me which dials to turn for your home settings -- please show me, I may have to do it when the dizziness begins to set in -- are you feeling dizzy yet, sir?"
12:02 p.m. CST
The pegasus mare thought she'd been possessed by the spirit of a human and demanded that the CDA evict it immediately.
The pegasus mare also thought her neighbor had five heads.
12:35 p.m. CST
There were incursions he didn't want to take Barrier along on yet. Things where the pegasus might start to cry.
They'd come back to the office for the lunch break. And to file the paperwork. There was always paperwork.
The CDA had been set up deep beneath the Canterlot Archives, far out of reach of Sun and Moon, theoretically with some protection from a surface incursion. It had also been a matter of convenience: among other things, the Archives tracked -- or tried to, with something much less than complete success and accuracy -- every rare spell and odd talent in Equestria, which was supposed to come in handy for the CDA. In theory, there could be unicorns out there with the power to open portals to other worlds, and the Archives would know where every one of them was, which worlds they could access, how often, how many humans they could send back before needing to rest...
...but in reality?
In reality, they had yet to find any world-jumpers in the pony population. They had interviewed nearly every registered teleporter on the continent, and none of them had ever reported landing in the wrong dimension after a bad trip into the between. Ancient spells meant to access strange new worlds didn't work. No legends among the three races told of portals to lands of bipeds -- at least, none which had turned out to be true. To date, the CDA's only means of getting the humans back where they came from was -- the things those humans had used to reach Equestria in the first place. And some of the humans were beginning to figure that out. Crossing knew notes were being compared on the other side -- or rather, sides: they had evidence of at least twelve human-populated worlds which had managed to bridge the gap and he personally suspected eight more whose residents had hurled themselves back through before being interviewed. Some of the more recent incursions left the bulk of their tech and magic at home, using something they called remotes to trigger travel at a dimensional distance. If the CDA couldn't get at the actual trick, they couldn't use it to send humans back. And not everything they had confiscated worked to reach every world -- and thus the holding cells.
Crossing hated the holding cells.
Oh, they didn't call the place 'holding cells', at least not for the peaceful prisoners. There were humans who had genuinely made the crossing by accident, who didn't know how they'd reached Equestria and only wanted to get home. The CDA desperately wanted to honor their wishes -- and couldn't always make it work. For those humans who were sincerely stuck in Equestria indefinitely against their will, the 'holding cells' took the form of something that was a cross between an outdoor preserve and (no matter how many regulations said they weren't supposed to use the term) a zoo. A few acres of land, turned into a perpetual no-fly zone for the pegasi, coated with shield spells and concealment enchantments and everything else the Archives could bring to bear, where the humans could try to live peacefully until a means arrived to send them home. And some of them did get home, he'd personally escorted one out four days ago when a fresh incursion had brought something sparking and humming and spitting fumes which had been just right for a human who'd been waiting fourteen months to see her children again. That had been a good day. They tested every new find on every human who would volunteer for it (and some looked at the more -- unstable -- creations and decided they might want to wait), but this human had examined the thing and recognized a brand name on the computer chips which made it all work. It had come from her home -- and a few hours later, had sent her back to it, which had still taken a lot of additional luck. The CDA didn't understand most of the magic or any of the technology they captured and some of the humans they temporarily captured wouldn't cooperate or didn't understand the stuff themselves: all too often, they pushed buttons and prayed.
(Some of their more -- frequent problems -- had begun to rig buttons. A few of those buttons had cost them ponies. Humans. Buildings. Off-site testing was becoming the very terrifying standard.)
But for the violent ones...
As with the first incident under morning Sun, there were those who came with intent to conquer, and some weren't so stupid about it. Some had magic of their own, or technology which could counter it, or what they called psionics or powers and there was nothing the CDA could do with confiscating those last two beyond cutting off their heads. Not all who arrived by accident turned out to be peaceful or bewildered and seeking a way back. Some took out their frustrations on the world around them. Some wanted sex and didn't care about what the pony wanted. Some couldn't be sent back. Others shouldn't be sent back -- and too often, those were the ones who got away.
The CDA couldn't dimension-travel on its own. But it had found a dozen ways to detect incursions. Teleporters were recruited from all over Equestria, asked to memorize multiple safe arrival sites within their personal ranges. Those who could escort others through the between were especially prized. Fast pegasi, earth ponies lurking in wait at those sites which seemed more permeable. Put it all together and the CDA could usually respond to an incursion in a matter of minutes, even if reaching the exact location might add desperate hours to that time. Typically, they were able to get those they couldn't send back into the real cells before any pony injuries (or worse) occurred.
Typically.
Some days were -- atypical.
Some days threatened to turn into horrors.
Some horrors were more subtle than others.
"So how are we doing today?" Crossing asked Riskette.
The earth pony mare frowned. It was her default expression, giving her youthful yellow face the contours of a much older pony. It all went back when she relaxed -- but she hardly ever did. "I've seen worse. Ponyville's actually quiet. It's been three moons since I've seen it this light. Only one attempted incursion since midnight, and that was a kind we knew how to short out before the bridge hits this end. Almost too easy..."
He took a wild guess. "The Heartstrings residence?" She nodded. "Celestia's shoes, I swear I'm going to put a permanent outpost next door... Well, at least no one's trying to bother the Element-Bearers today." So far. That category of incursion had six separate names and it was a rare week which went by without a Code Fluttershy. "Anything else I should know about?"
She closed her copper eyes for a moment, taking tally. "Outside of yours -- three military, turned back. Four researchers: three science, one magic. We had about a two-second incursion in Baltimare -- popped into an alley, saw the team, said 'Sorry, wrong world,' and left of her own accord. No injuries or worse so far -- but..."
Crossing hated it when Riskette said 'but'.
"...we've got -- two special cases."
His own blue eyes shut. "Define 'special'."
She did.
12:42 p.m. CST
The first was quick. The coughing told him it wouldn't be anything else.
The human male smiled at him. Elderly, this one, near the end of its lifespan. The absolute end. "Well... and you would be my escort, yes?"
"Yes," Crossing said. Because he was the only one available: most of the CDA was taking their lunch. He hated doing this, hated so much of the job. But as incursions went, this one would be -- quick. "Are you ready?"
The human nodded. "Very, good sir." He tried to stand up. After the third attempt, Crossing moved closer and let the human brace a hand against his back. "Thank you... I was told you would --" another coughing fit, nearly a minute before it ended " -- pick the spot?"
"Yes. It'll help if you --" he swallowed hard "-- keep touching me. And -- close your eyes. The between can be hard on humans."
Another nod: silver hair moved, settled back. "I'll take your word for it, sir -- but I think I'll keep them open. I've never seen it before, and -- there's not much left to see for me, is there?"
Crossing did his best not to think about it. "Your choice." He could feel the hand still resting on his back. "All right -- here we go..."
They went between --
-- and came out in one of the places the CDA kept clear for this kind of incursion. A high plateau on a mountain overlooking Ponyville, with a perfect view of the town below. There had briefly been a dragon residing in the cave behind them, a few months before the CDA was formed, but -- the Element-Bearers had taken care of that, and nothing else had moved in. Some very complex pegasi workings kept the area warm enough for humans to be comfortable regardless of the season.
He kept his back under the human's hand, helped him towards the edge, used his field to ease the biped into a sitting position on the edge.
"Beautiful..." the human barely breathed. "I know -- this is -- not convenient for you, good sir, but -- I appreciate..." A shallow breath. Crossing thought about the green metal cylinder they'd left behind. "...that you would do this..."
Crossing couldn't look at him. "A last question. Here -- or back to your home?"
"Oh... here will be fine, I think... I bequeath myself to you... you can... just use me in whatever ways you require. Research into my kind, or... even for your pets, I will not be offended, I know meat is hard to come by for you. Or leave me... for the scavengers... I will be useful for someone, at least..." The human closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. "So very beautiful..."
Crossing waited.
He didn't have to wait very long.
1:18 p.m. CST
The second special case was worse.
"You've tried everything?"
"Everything safe," the technician assured him. A new one, Crossing didn't have the name yet and could barely make out any features under the bulky gold protective garment, could just contact eyes within the huge helmet. "Everything we know won't hurt them. And -- we can't take a chance with this one. You know the rules."
Crossing did. The Princesses had laid down all the laws when they'd formed the CDA. Not to kill unless there was no other choice, avoid injury when they could. Send humans back whenever possible. Don't hide the incursions from other ponies -- they'd known that as a secret, it had been doomed from the start -- but don't panic the populace either: let them think the numbers were minimal if at all possible, keep the stories in the press at the lowest manageable level. And there were other policies, ones he didn't like at all -- but it was the Princesses. He served. They all did.
"Why?" he asked the air. "Why would somepo -- someone send an infant through alone?"
The technician had no answer. Crossing had too many. Because there might not have been another choice. Because the sender might have been hoping the child would have a better life in Equestria than in whatever dimension had been left behind. Because the baby might have a power which sent it here by accident. Because something unworthy of sentience had been experimenting on newborns. Because, because, because.
"What do we do with it?" the new hire asked.
"I take it to the zoo --" Luna's tail, now he was doing it "-- and give it to someone there. They'll take care of it." Until they could find a way to send it -- he couldn't tell gender on one so young, especially with that diaper on -- back. Sent back from a life spent in the wrong world, to a place it might never think of as home. He carefully enveloped the infant in his red field, moved towards the door.
"Mister Guard?" He glanced back at the technician. "They say -- you were the first pony hired." Crossing nodded. "How do you do this every day?"
He had no answer. He just left.
3:22 p.m. CST
He was just about caught up on the paperwork. There had almost been a Code Dash while he'd filled out forms, but it had just about resolved itself. Whatever method the human had used apparently targeted the pony -- or at least close by. In this case, that had been at the other end of the cloud which the pegasus had been napping on. A cloud which, for the human, wasn't particularly solid.
The nap had been taken over the reservoir. The human was alive, but had several broken bones from hitting the water badly and was in no hurry to do it again.
"You look like Riskette," Border commented from the doorway. "You want to be careful with that, Crossing... your face will fall, and your tail will droop, and your wife will leave you and marry me like she should have if she'd had a drop of common sense -- actually, keep right on going with that expression. You know how much I love your wife."
Crossing managed a brief smile, mostly to disappoint Border's romantic prospects. "I've got a vague idea, yes... that's the third infant this season, Border. At least the third one we couldn't... well, the third. And we weren't seeing any before this year started. What's going on out there?"
"Were you thinking of going over and looking?" Coming from Border, the question was casual. From another pony, it wouldn't have been.
Crossing went with the honest answer. "I've thought about it."
"Despite regulations."
He nodded. "Despite everything. I know the rules, Border -- we can't go to them. We'd stand out far too much: shapechange on that level is impossible, so we're stuck as ponies. For the worlds with -- ponies and horses, non-sentient -- we still can't pass for long with the magic we can use. We can't even rely on our magics working on their side and some of the lies we keep telling them might wind up being true for us. We can't work from their worlds to cut off access to ours because the Princesses feel it's too big a risk for whoever crosses and they're not entertaining volunteers unless the incursions get a lot worse than they are now." And how much worse would it take? "We have to deal with things from this end."
"We do," Border said, careful not to emphasize either word. "But we can't ask infants for status reports. All we can do is -- well, you did it." And the topic change Crossing had been waiting for. "How did your meeting with Princess Luna go last night?"
"It -- went." She wanted him to move into the training section. She wanted him to stop going out when incursions hit. She thought he'd seen too much. He'd argued. He'd won. He wasn't entirely sure how. Crossing thought the Princess liked him to some degree, and that was why she let him have his way some of the time. But that was also why she wanted him to stop. "You know the Princess -- short, to the point, wait for my ears to stop ringing and move on."
Border shrugged, rolled his eyes. "I would if I'd ever met with her. There's a meeting upstairs at four if you want to get in on it -- one of the techs came up with a great new lie we can sell. You'll love it, especially the part about quantum."
"I'll come up." The paperwork would be done by then. "But you're the better liar."
"Sure, but you've got to back me up," Border grinned. "And you're not bad. Your eyes don't really shift, your tail is steady -- you can sell it pretty well yourself when you're talking to humans." More softly, "Not so much with ponies, though."
Crossing looked up from the triplicate form.
"Your tail flicked," Border told him. "When you were talking about the Princess. Might want to watch that, Crossing."
And then there was more paperwork. There always was.
4:46 p.m. CST
"But -- but this was supposed to be my ultimate form of self-insert fic!"
"Really? Then just think of me as your editor."
5:48 p.m. CST
The pegasi were clearing the last of the fumes from the air. It wasn't easy for them: pollution hadn't been a foreign concept before the incursions began, but it had mostly meant litter and that was something most ponies casually worked to stop. The pegasi were using techniques adapted from those which dealt with volcano smoke in small quantities. Results had been mixed. So far, that which they couldn't deal with was minor, but long-term buildup...
...well, there would have to be many more incursions for that to be a problem. Far too many. But taken over centuries -- and regardless, they still had to do something with the pollution which had already arrived. Had to seal the barriers long before the buildup became an issue. But all of the long-term plans seemed to operate on the assumption that the current problem would continue indefinitely at known levels. Or get worse. So much worse...
Crossing looked up at the leaves. The fumes hadn't altered the fall colors -- not visibly. Some of the vibrations from the vehicles had brought a few down...
His great-grandfather had told him stories. About leaves which fell on their own in the settled zones. The wild zones, of course, nature operated by its own rules there, but -- according to that ancient pony, there had been a time when multicolored foliage settled on pony lawns of its own accord. Crossing had done some research: the Running Of The Leaves wasn't that old as traditions went. In fact, it was almost suspiciously recent.
One of the things told to humans who asked why they couldn't stay was a truth. They would be told about how much magic went into making Equestria's settlements, towns, and cities safe for pony inhabitants, how most of the inherent power in everypony went towards maintaining the safe zones as just that, so that the rest of the world became unnatural. Most of the humans didn't have magic, and their technology only went so far. In theory, they could settle in a small area. In theory, the pollution could be kept to a minimum, or scrubbed away by pegasi once those techniques were perfected, or the humans could just use clean technology, something a very few seemed to have. But -- it was still an impact on the environment, something Equestria had never handled before. They didn't know what the consequences would be, and that was before thinking about what bringing in a top-level omnivore could do to the land. Some of the humans hadn't known that the species they regularly consumed were sentient here. Some -- had. And hadn't cared.
There had been one human who had listened to Border's chosen truth and sadly said "Rabbits in Australia," before adjusting the dials on his belt and fading away. That one, at least, had never returned. Others...
Crossing looked at the leaves which were still attached. Which would stay attached until somepony brought them down. Glanced up at Barrier, who was trying to help the pegasi team and not doing so well at it.
He wondered if humans were the only ones who had too much impact on their land. If every sentient species in every world who tamed the environment to their needs would ultimately do some level of damage.
Humans gave him those thoughts. Another reason to turn them back forever.
7:00 p.m. CST
Crossing waited on the top of the isolated hill.
The Sun was going down. The Moon would be emerging soon. He should have been home with his family. His day had started too early and was ending far too late. But incursions didn't respect regular working hours (which didn't really exist for the two hundred and forty Equestrian members of the CDA spread across the continent anyway) and this -- was an appointment. One he had to attend, no matter how much he hated doing so. Crossing didn't trust anypony else to handle this. Only a few ponies were even supposed to know about it. Most of the CDA would -- well, if they calmed down enough, he could theoretically show them the classified pages where the new rules had been added to the original charter by both Princesses (although as he understood palace politics, it had been Luna's idea and she'd initially had to fight for it). But they would require a lot of calming down, and he would not have been surprised if fields, wings, and kicks had come at him before words.
And right on time, she came.
Crossing looked at her, up and down. Too far up. And in the wake of the too-long day, the thought he always had upon seeing her finally vocalized itself, emerged after more than a year of private consumption. With purest disgust, "Yearrggh..."
"Yearrggh...?" she asked, sounding vaguely bemused. "What means 'Yearrggh...', Crossing?"
He hated it when she used his name -- and that gave him motivation to tell her what it meant. "It means -- those." He inclined his horn.
"They're called breasts, unicorn," she shrugged. "I know you're all mammals and I know your mares nurse. This shouldn't be a hard concept."
"Our mares nurse after they've birthed," Crossing told her. "They don't carry -- those -- things around as if they're constantly ready to go. How can you even -- don't they get in the --" well, she had to have the idea.
A small chuckle. "Would it reassure you at all if I said I'm considerably larger than the average for my species in that regard?"
"Not unless you're willing to send someone considerably smaller in your place," he reacted, trying not to grind his teeth. "Or better yet, no one at all."
Another shrug: red hair shifted, and she spread arms and hands wide, dropped the sack from the right one. "Gods, you sound like ninety percent of the guys my friends tried to fix me up with in college... Sorry, Crossing: not what Tia wants."
His teeth did grind upon hearing the casual blasphemy. "Princess Celestia."
"Right -- as soon as you let me move here, get citizenship, and have her as one of my rulers, I'll be sure to go with that." She gestured a yellow-tinged hand towards the sack. "Three this time. I think you're familiar with two of them and so was I. That silver ball with the projections is new, though."
Something -- new? Well, it had to work: she knew they would check it out, had never brought anything false. One of their -- better ones in that regard... His field opened the sack, and he carefully shifted through the contents -- yes, two familiar, one new. The new one might be a treasure. Something to evict a few remote-users with, lessen the population in the zoo, get infants home... he'd have to get it to the technicians as soon as possible. Something which would add more time to his workday, Tartarus chain it... "They look -- good."
She nodded to that. "My payment, then?"
He field-raised the little bag from the grass, tossed it to her. Released the field before it reached her so it would carry the rest of the way on momentum. Crossing wanted to see her catch it -- and hated that he did, despised his own sick fascination with hands, that smooth grasping motion, the easy flexibility and tandem motions of shoulders, elbows, and wrists. Fingers and thumbs.
She snatched it out of the air without visible thought, with one hand. Opened the bag, poured the contents into her other palm, looked at the jewels for a moment. Put them back, then met his gaze, her small green eyes on his large dark blue ones. In the exact same tone, "My payment, then?"
Of course. She wouldn't be turned aside so easily. "I can give you an hour."
He'd learned human expressions well enough to know she was seriously pissed off. "Do you know how far in arrears you are? By my count, I had four days saved up before I got here and now it's going to be a full fifty-three hours, Crossing, after you take your one out --"
"-- I've been going since five this morning!" He hadn't meant to shout. He didn't care. "We had a drill incursion which I had to prepare for, and there was an attempted rape which didn't come off well for the rapist, thank the Princesses, there was a death escort and a baby which you can't take back even if I could send it to the wrong dimension because your method can barely move your own mass plus it's too hazardous and your whole world is practically a wild zone, and Fillydelphia nearly got invaded by something called a biker gang and did I mention the driller brought weapons and if he hadn't been so bucking stupid we could have --"
-- her right hand was over his mouth.
He blinked. He couldn't focus his field to shove it. Couldn't back away.
"I'm sorry," she softly said from her semi-kneeling position. "But I don't know that when I come here. I don't know how hard your day is until you tell me, Crossing -- and that? Was the first time you've ever told me. All I know is how hard my days are. Running all over the world with my tracking equipment, trying to find people researching ways to breach the barrier. Sneaking into laboratories. Seducing my way in for the two times that actually worked and for the record, they both sucked. Destroying data, stealing prototypes, sabotaging tests when I can. Or just nearly getting killed, over and over. Spending weeks in the hospital from nearly. The job is hard on your side, I know that. What do you think it's like on mine? What do you think all the people in all the other worlds are going through, trying to keep ponies safe? All to get hours here as the consolation prize -- and knowing you have a little less to deal with as the big one?"
She released her hand, did not straighten up. Just looked at him. Waited.
In reality... in reality, Equestria couldn't do everything all by itself. In reality, those who tried to break in over and over were comparing notes, and some of them were teaming up, even doing so across different worlds. A few of those intentions were peaceful -- but not all. And every time they sent a human back, there was the chance they'd try again, bring more force to the problem, and more humans. A few -- a very few -- had been added to a kill-on-sight list. And nearly all of those got away every time, and knew the ponies couldn't follow. But they hadn't anticipated the idea of an attack on their side -- not from other humans. And so the Princesses had chosen a scant number, some of the ones who had made the most resourceful and peaceful incursions, offered them a Tartarus-forged bargain which Crossing had hated...
"...the jewels," he just barely managed. "Isn't that...?"
"More common on your side than mine," she shrugged. "Pays my expenses. And hospital bills. I don't doubt some of the human agents are doing this to get rich, Crossing. But for most, I'm guessing that's a side effect. We're doing this for our hours. For your protection, whatever we can give of it. And -- you said I've got one hour coming tonight. So let's go. I'll bill you for the rest later -- you've got a family to get home to." More quietly, "Wish I still did..."
And for a moment, it seemed as if she was about to ask if she could meet his. A moment where Crossing would have almost thought about it --
-- which then passed, leaving a pony on his own lands and an incursion which might never permanently go away.
She straightened. He looked too far up at her. The one he trusted nopony else to handle. "So," he managed somehow, "what do you want to do with the hour?"
"Just walk," she told him. "It's a nice sunset -- good color palette, some nice cloud touches, very artistic work -- let's head towards it for a while."
The two members of the Canterlot Deportation Agency headed off together.
She walked. He trotted.
Author's Note
If a few other writers somehow show interest in this concept, a CDA group may be created to coordinate efforts. ('I await with interest what will probably be an echoing silence.')
