An Apple in a Bushel of Peaches

Special Operations Business Part 1

(Sweet Nectar Acres)

Ah looked at ma brother, both of ma sisters, and Ah knew, Ah jest knew that Ah had to get us some help. At first Ah thought ‘bout callin’ Rarity and her beau. Ah knew that she had dun said that he had been in the military, but at the same time Rarity had been mighty quiet lately. It was kinda like somethin’ had happened. So, I had to give it a good think, and Ah came up with somepony. Fluttershy and her fellar. Ark, Ah think that’s his name. They’d be a couple of someponies Ah could call. Jessica helped me get that contraption on ma head, and Ah waited while HAL connected us up to Fluttershy’s home.

Time: 18:45H (6:45 PM EDT), Sunday, November 4th, 2059
Location: 217 Bleecker St, New York, NY, 10012
Place: The Visovic Brownstone

Fluttershy and I had just finished a rather filling meal. It had been a few days since she and I made love for the first time; truth be told, we spent a great deal of our time that week shut up in my bedroom, leaving its confines only for a quick meal, to pick up the mail, or to shower. Yesterday, Flutters told me she was all worn out. She explained that her estrus was over with and her needs were sated for the time being. Good news for us, I guess. Well, for me, anyway; I was starting to shoot blanks a little it, if you catch my meaning.

Since then, we’d been enjoying each other’s company. We’d talk, watch movies off the Holonet or Netflix. Sometimes, we’d just snuggle up with each other, soaking in each other’s scent and loitering in the silence. This Sunday, though, we were getting some chores that had been left neglected while we put my mattress through their paces. Laundry had piled up, our cat had been feeding on the garbage, and a thin layer of dust had built up on all the surfaces of the living room. We spent the entire morning the cleaning down, then we spent the afternoon performing upkeep on the brownstone. It was exhausting work and it took two full charges of the batteries on my cyberpros to complete every one of our tasks.

Our evening was spent rather quietly, Snuggles curling up in Flutters’ lap and purring madly. I was doing a little maintenance on my legs; all the bending and stretching I did with them made the knee servos very stiff. A bit of lubricant oil and a tweaking of the bolts and they were right as rain again. I was leaning back after accomplishing that goal when Tolstoy emerges in The Nucleus. I can see in the background of his user interface that a call is incoming.

“My lord,” Tolstoy says dryly, “we have an incoming call. Caller Identification informs that the call originates from an agricultural site by the name of Sweet Nectar Acres. May I redirect the call?”

“Sweet Nectar Acres?” I ask, “Hey, Fluttershy, isn’t that where Applejack is holed up?”

“I- I think it is,” Fluttershy replies, “Tolstoy, put the call through please, if you don’t mind.”

“As you wish,” Tolstoy answers, “milady.”

The call connects with our holostage interface after a few moments (likely the caller has a less sophisticated holo-rig at their location) which was long enough for Flutters and I to get into our immersion gear.

“Hello?” says a accent tinged voice, “Fluttershy, ya’ll there, sugarcube?”

“Applejack?” Fluttershy calls out, “Is that you?”

“Fluttershy?!” the voice on the other end replies, more certain. Soon, the eyes and most of the face of a certain Stetson-wearing, orange-coated farm mare appear in the view port. If I didn’t know any better, I would swear this is the first time she’s ever used a holo-rig to make a call before…

“Hey, Fluttershy!” Applejack calls, “How ya’ll doin’?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Flutters responds, “just having a lazy Sunday afternoon. And what about you? I heard you’re getting married soon.”

“When did ya’ll hear that?” Applejack asks, “And who’d ya hear it from?”

“From our mutual pink party paradox friend,” Fluttershy says coyly, “a couple of weeks back.”

“That figures,” AJ snorts, “well, anyway, this here ain’t no social call.”

“Why not?” Fluttershy asks.

“Well,” AJ begins, “ya see, we just found out somethin’ that we really need some help with. Ah don’t even know where ta begin…”

“Why don’t you start by explaining what it is you found out first?” I ask.

“Hey, who’s that?” asks a voice from off screen.

“Shush, ‘Bloom,” AJ says, “Ah’m talkin’ with Fluttershy. And Imma thinkin’ that’s her stallion friend. Th’ name’s Ark, right?”

“That’s right,” I answer, “so what’s going on, Applejack? Is there anything we can help you with?”

“Well, it’s about our Granny Smith…” Applejack explains, “we think’n we found her.”

“Yay!!” Flutters squeals, “That’s so wonderful!”

“Not really,” murmurs a deep basso voice. Joining his little sister on screen is Big Macintosh Apple, who has a little more technological savvy than his kid sister, it seems. I can see his entire face in the view screen, some of his overalls attired torso, and the white t-shirt stained faintly by blood underneath the overalls. My mind questions whose blood is that.

“Seems our Granny is in one o’ dem ‘corporate farms,’” Big mac expounds, “seems she turned up on their property a few days back. She done got put up in one o’ their kitchens, making her famous Granny Smith apple pies. From from Aj’s stallion saw, she’ been worked to the bone. There’s some younguns in there, too. They ain’t lookin’ too healthy or happy. Figurin’ they got ‘em working an assembly line making her pies. It’s right shame.”

“That sucks,” I growl, “how did you figure that out.”

“We smelled it,” AJ answers, “one afternoon, the smell of our Granny’s pies comes waftin’ to the orchard, come as ya please. We kept smellin’ it fer hours, not knowin’ where it blew in from. Then Anthony…”

AJ’s voice hitches a little; I get the sense that something awful happened here. Before I ask the necessary question, Big Mac adds to what his sister can’t seem to get out.

“Anthony done snuck up on the corporate farm; snapped some pic’ures of the place. Found Granny Smith, got snapshot o’ her, then their goons come down on him. They was in layin’, ya see, since he first crossing the o’er th’ wall. Bang’d him purty good, I reckon. We tried talking to their head honchos, but they keep stonewallin’ us. Won’t say a word about any ‘new hires.’”

“Knowing what I know of those farms, which is very little, mind you, it’s safe to say that your grandmother wasn’t really ‘hired’ in the traditional sense,” I retort, “what do you need?”

“We heard tale that ya used to be in the army,” AJ replies, “we was ahopin’ ya could lend some o’ yer expertise in gettin’ our Granny outta there.”

“Hmm,” I mused, “well, I was never in Special Forces, but I do have some people I can call who would know better. My uncle had some associates, for lack of a better word, who know a thing or three about getting in and out of places like that. I can call in some of the favors they might owe him, although I don’t know how much pull I have. My uncle may have been a major domo in the Russian Mafioso, but that doesn’t mean they’ll readily jump at my beck & call.”

“Can ya at least try?” Aj asks tearfully.

“I’ll do what I can,” I answer, “in the meantime, why don’t you send me your address. We’ll buy some tickets as soon as I can get in contact with my uncle’s ‘friends.’”

Strangely enough, Uncle Sergei’s old mob buddies were more than willing to lend a hand. There were some stipulations I had to agree to, but it wasn’t like I was gonna talk to anyone. That’d get in me in trouble with both the Feds and the Mafioso, which is ill advised. Before leaving for California, I had to delve into the cache of weapons my uncle left behind. He has some pretty serious hardware here, most of which I’m unsure he could use. He was more of a pistol guy, but there was a lot more than pistols in that wall safe behind the fireplace. I found some stuff that I know I could use without much trouble and would be of great benefit in a stealth operation.

My uncle’s contacts showed up late in the morning to pick up the gear, seeing as the security contingent on the train might take offense on my smuggling contraband infiltration hardware. My understanding was they were taking a glider out to Cali and wait for me in town. They had a local place where we can set up the op and a few well paid officials in their pocket to keep nosy busy bodies out of our hair. They would look the other way with the extra-legal firepower we were going to use.

Fluttershy and I caught the next train out. During the ride, Flutters informed me of what Granny Smith was to the Apple Family. Both matriarch to and for the Apple Clan, Granny Smith was the glue that held Big Mac, Applejack and Applebloom together. It was never explained in show canon, but according to Fluttershy, The Apples were struck down by pneumonia. An early Fall Frost would have killed the trees at Sweet Apple Acres, if not for their efforts. They caught frostbite and nearly lost their hooves, only for the pneumonia to set in and kill them. Big Mac and Applejack were devastated, naturally; Applebloom wasn’t even a year old when it happened, so she doesn’t remember it much.

Granny Smith took rein of the household, even though she was quietly approaching the century mark, and kept the three siblings happy, healthy, strong, and safe. To the Apples, Granny is the very mare that keeps the family as strong as it is. Given how old she is reported to be, I’d say that’s safe assumption. In any case, if she’s at the hands of those corporate farm thugs, then she’s in the most precarious post she could be in. The tales I’ve heard of life on the Farms is harrowing, to say the least. Extricating her from their clutches is priority one. Priority two is not getting caught!

Upon getting to California, the first thing we had to do was rent a car out to the little town Sweet Nectar Acres resided. Thankfully, Big Mac had a reservation waiting for us when we got there. (Rental cars are expensive as fuck! Especially in California.) A few hours drive and a pit stop or two for bathroom breaks (caffeine and long roads trips equals bad idea!) and we arrived in town. The influence of the MacDonald’s Farm was practically everywhere. You can see it in the way the buildings were built, the color scheme of the neighborhoods, and even the ubiquitous presence of their restaurants. Everywhere you looked in town, there were golden arches. My cholesterol was rising just being here, not to mention my transfats.

“So this is Ladera?” Fluttershy asked from the passenger seat, “it looks- nice.”

“Like the town Starlight Glimmer held sway in?” I reply.

Fluttershy shutters at the thought and says, “Don’t remind me.”

“Okay,” I say, “the orchard is just outside of town. From what Tolstoy provided in terms of maps, the orchard is just beyond the company roads, but the path he’s laid out for us has us avoiding all but one of them.”

“Uh, Ark,” Flutters calls, “what are those lights behind us?”

“The fuck?” I murmur before recognizing the flashing red and blue of police lights. I pull over in front of a MacDonald’s general store. The police car parks right behind us. From my rear view mirror, I see a pork belly emerge from the opened door of the patrol vehicle; the belly is attached to the rotund face and graying mane of an older man. He waddles a little as he walks towards us.

“Good evening, folks,” the police officer says, “name’s Arnold Chambers, sheriff of Ladera, though most folk just call me Arnie. How are we doing today?”

“We’re fine, Sheriff,” I answer, “we’re on our way to Sweet Nectar Acres. We’re visiting some friends there.”

“Is that so?”Sheriff Arnie says, “not many head out that way. Good food and all, what with those helper pony things tending Jessica’s farm and all but- Hey, will ya look at that! You got one of them helper ponies, too!”

“Oh, uh, hello,” Flutters says, “I’m Fluttershy.”

“And what a wonderful afternoon to you, Miss Fluttershy,” Arnie casually replies, “my, my, my, aren’t you the prettiest thing to come to this town?”

I can feel the heat coming off of Fluttershy as her blush rose up. As darling as she looked flustered, I still had some reservations as to why we got pulled over. Also, I’m not sure how comfortable I am with this sheriff hitting on Fluttershy. She is my- what, fillyfriend? My mare? I’ll need some clarification on that score, but later.

“If you don’t mind, Sheriff,” I inquire, “just what did you pull us over for?”

“Oh, yeah,” Arnie recalls, “I got a notice from the mayor, says some riff-raff will be making their way into town. He wanted me to see to any strangers rolling in, make sure they’re alright.”

“Well, Sheriff,” I say, “you don’t have to worry about us. We’ll be about Sweet Nectar for the next few days and then we’re back to New York.”

“New York?” Arnie muses, “Well, isn’t that something. The report the mayor gave me says some fellow coming from New York would passing through. Goes by the name of- hold on, let me check- ‘Ar-cade-y Vise-o-vic.’ That wouldn’t be you, would it?”

Truth or lie, what do I tell this guy?

“Uh, my name is Ark-ady Vis-oh-vich,” I enunciate, “you’d be surprised by how many people mispronounce it.”

“Oh, I see,” Arnie muses once more, then dropping his voice to a whisper, “our mutual friends came by to see me last night. They’re waiting by the old Hiller Orchard. They told me to inform you they marked the route, so you can’t miss them. Just stay clear of The Company Roads; the tolls will drain your wallet.. I wouldn’t stay in town if I were you, either. The Company’s ‘Quality Control Division’ is out in force today and through the week, too. They’re paid goons who don’t give two cents if you’re law abiding or not, they’ll hound you, beat to you to a pulp if they think you’ll give them grief.”

“Thanks for the tip,” I murmur back, “we’ll get going then.”

Arnie’s voice returns to it’s usual cheerfulness as he waves us off with a hearty, “You two stay safe now.”

“That was-” Fluttershy comments.

“Weird,” I finish, “I guess the sheriff isn’t towing the company line.”

~~~~~~ (Sweet Nectar Acres - Applejack’s POV)~~~~~~

Ah touched the cold rag ta ma stallion’s eyes. Nopony ever told me how much this could hurt. Ah grew up hearing how an Earth Pony shares the burdens, and right now… Right now ma stallion had more burdens on ‘im than Ah’ve ever seen before. Ah looked at his arm, and Ah winched. We had ta get a new confounded contraption to help all of us ta see what had happened.

It weren’t pretty. The durn contraption said his arm was broke in three places, five of his ribs were cracked, and another two were broken… They hurt ma stallion so bad, and Ah… Lawd Ah wanted to go over there, march inside, and make ‘em all pay. If’n it hadn’t been for Big Mac Ah know Ah would. Ah would have walked right in there, and Ah wouldn’t of stopped until Ah had paid ‘em back ten times over.

“Jackie?”

Ah looked at ma stallion and Ah touched his cheek.

“Ah’m right here,” I said.

He opened his eyes and Ah could see ‘im lookin’ at me. Ah felt his hand as he touched my cheek, like Ah was a touchin’ his, and then there was that crooked smile of his.

“Sorry this happened,” he said.

“T’ain’t yer fault. Those lowdown polecats dun did this ta ya,” Ah replied.

He groaned as he moved, and Ah helped, as best Ah could, and watched as he tried to get comfortable.

“I couldn’t do it Jackie. They wouldn’t had gotten me, or not as bad, if’n I’d jest went ahead and killed one of ‘em. I couldn’t. I kept thinkin’ that maybe this was all they knew,” he said, “I mean, it could have still been me in there.”

Ah knew what he was talkin’ ‘bout. But I dun’t think that Anthony coulda dun did what those polecats did ta ‘im. He liked fair fights, and those sorry bunch of horseapples hadn’t tried to make it a fair fight. They gained up on ma stallion, and they tried ta take ‘im ‘way from me. Ah wanted ta feel ashamed that Ah wanted whatever Ark did ta get Granny Smith out ta hurt ‘em. Ah wanted to feel ashamed that Ah wanted somepony ta suffer, but Ah didn’t. Ah didn’t feel ashamed, and it was ‘cause they had made the father of our foals hurt and suffer.

“Ah dun’t want ya fightin’ Applejack, but if’n somepony else starts it, then Ah want ya ta finish it,” ma Daddy had told me back when Ah was young.

It were one of the last times Ah got ta talk ta ‘im. It were right after Ah came home with a shiner. ‘Nother filly was a talkin’ ‘bout how Big Mac and Ah was a couple of hayseeds, and that we was only gonna be good fer workin’ and fer spittin’ out foals.

“Sis, they’re here!” Ah heard Bloom shout.

“Who’s here?” Anthony asked.

“Somepony that’s gonna help us get Granny away from those plotholes,” Ah said ‘fore Ah kissed him.

Ah helped Anthony git a bit more comfortable before Ah walked out of our room. Ah could see Fluttershy downstairs, talkin’ with Big Mac and ‘Bloom. She was always able ta be a bit more open with all of us Apples. Ah ain’t sure why, but she tended ta be a bit more social. Ah walked down and Ah saw that Fluttershy and her stallion were sitting at the table. Jessica had dun brought out some peach fritters, and cold milk fer the both of ‘em. Ah walked toward them, and before Ah could say a word Fluttershy headed over ta me, wrapped me up in a big o’ hug, and gently stroked my back.

“Thanks Sugarcube,” Ah said as Ah returned her hug.

“Is he okay?” she asked.

“He’s alive, and he’s healing up. It’s a might hard fer him to get up and down right now. Ah know he’d want ta come and say howdy if’n he could,” Ah said.

Ah started ta go and help with the food, but Jessica quickly stopped me. She shook her head and Ah listened as Ah continued to sit. Once all of the fritters were out Ah took a whiff of ‘em and ma mouth started to water. Ah missed ma Apple Fritters, but these here peach fritters had grown on me. Ah had beaten Big Mac at eatin’ ‘em and then Ah heard the sound of one of ‘em fritters bein’ bit inta. Ah looked at Fluttershy’s stallion and noticed his face when he took a bite. He quickly finished off that fritter, and then he grabbed ‘nother one. Ah saw ‘im lookin’ at me and Ah shook ma head.

“No need ta slow down. We got plenty ta eat,” Ah said.

[Arkady's Perspective]

"Ah, come on!" I protested, having my hand batted away from my ninth peach fritter, "these things are good!"

"Sorrah, Sugarcube," Applejack retorted, "but other ponies gotta eat."

I heard Fluttershy giggle beside me, apparently sharing some inside joke I wasn't privy to. I decided to stow away any further protest. It wouldn't do well to open hostilities this early in an operation.

"So, before we get down to business," I began,"what's say we start this over from the beginning. What exactly happened around here to warrant my skill set?"

Applejack sighed, then began, from her perspective, just how things started. She explained about Big Mac's arrival, then her own with her sister. How the whole of Ms. Jessica's orchard began to feel more and more like home, the social "intricacies" of keeping a running produce orchard running. Then, she went into deep detail about the night that everything changed.

"If Ah hadn't been a-lookin' fer the source of the scent, Ah woulda nev'r found Anthony in th' barn that night. Accordin' to Jessica's doodad, Anthony is in a heap of hurtin'. They messed him up but good. But what's worse, what's really, really worse, 'bout it all, is this."

Applejack slides a crumbled Polaroid photograph to me. I pick up and look diligently on the image. In it, a musty, aged conveyor belt is running. The belt is loaded with what looks like unbaked pies, apple I think. There are little kids and even some adults applying pie crusts to the products. What draws the attention of the photo, and thus mine, is the liver-spotted and aged green mare. Her silver mane is tied up in bun; the stress of working long hours had caused several strands of it to fray out. Her eyes are weary but not from age. The fragility of her fingers only makes the image that much more heartbreaking. I can see how exhausted this mare is just by the sagging in her shoulders, the way her entire body is more drooped than any woman her age has right to.

"This is Granny Smith?" I ask, more than familiar with the Apple Family matriarch from the series.

"Eeyup," answers Big Macintosh, "that's her. Anthony says they done got got her holed up in their bakery. Judgin' by the smell, they got 'er makin' pies fer fourteen hours straight. I don't know who this l'il feller is, but he seems a might helpful to Granny. He can't be enny old'r than The Cake Twins, I reckon."

(~~~~~Applejack’s Perspective~~~~~)

Fluttershy’s fellar seemed to look over that picture harder than Ah expected him ta. Ah watched as he studied it, and then he asked fer some paper and something to write with. Ah found a small pad of paper that Jessica would scribble out some of our orders on and passed it ta him. Fer a few minutes it looked like he was just studying the picture some more until he began writin.

“Ah asked some friends of ours ‘bout that room. They dun said that it’s smaller than our barn, but they got more folks crammed inta it then it’s supposta have during the shifts. One of ‘em said that the bruisers come through every so often jest ta prod the workers ta make sure they ain’t trying ta fall asleep. Ah…” Ah stopped and tried ta collect maself.

Ah didn’t want ta fall apart now. It weren’t till Ah heard the sound of someone comin’ down the stairs that Ah realized how quiet Ah gotten. Ah looked up ta see ma stallion comin’ down the stairs. Ah walked toward him, put ma arm ‘round ‘im and helped ‘im to the table.

“Figured that ya might want some inside information,” he said.

Fluttershy’s feller nodded, and Anthony cleared his throat.

“That’s the pie center. Everything from Apple, Cherry, to the seasonals gets made in there. The folks working in there don’t have to worry about the elements, but they don’t get much down time either. The farm doesn’t really insulate the machines so it usually gets about a hundred and twenty degrees in there by nine am. That’s if it’s not summer time,” he coughed and held his ribs with his good arm, “There’s three entrances ta it. The south entrance for the employees, the west entrance for the techs to work on the machines, and the north entrance.”

Ah watched him stop and nod.

“Yeah, that’s the entrance the management and the bruisers use. There’s a small room off to the side of that entrance. It’s not much, just a bed, a table, and a nightstand. That’s the reward for anyone who’s willing to bed the boss. They get to sleep in that small room over night. It’s locked, from the outside, but you can open the door to get out to the outside from in there. On the left side of the room is a small window, ‘bout the size fer somebody ta fit through if they wanted to bad enough. I got ta warn ya though. Sometimes… Sometimes the bruisers and the management use that room and don’t tell nobody ‘bout it. They jest snatch up somebody that catches their fancy,” he said.

“That’s… That’s terrible,” Ah heard Fluttershy say.

“That’s jest life in there. You go in thinkin’ that maybe ya can have somethin’ more, but it’s a lie. You ain’t never gonna have nothin’ in there,” he said.

“Could they get granny out of there?” Ah asked.

“If’n they ain’t got a problem with puttin’ a couple of bruisers in the hospital. They’re gonna be watching the pie center purty hard,” he said.

[Arkady's Perspective]

"I don't think that will be a problem," I said, earning a surprised and foreboding look from Fluttershy, "my associates and I will be armed with some top-notch infiltration gear. As well as these-"

I reached down to the bag I had brought with me in the car. It was one of the few articles the Amtrak security wouldn't be searching through, even the TSA is supposed to search all luggage getting on the trains. I pulled out several pieces of hardware and began to assemble them together on the dining room table. The weapon was in a similar design to the F2000 carbines I carried with me during my Army days, with but a few exceptions. One was the fact that the barrel of this rifle was a twenty millimeters in diameter. Second was the electronic diode pack that loaded into the stock of the weapon. Once that was in place, the weapon gave off a faint hum. IN the silent dining room, it may as well been a jackhammer.

"These," I began, "are Russian designed Yeltsin Antipersonal Airfoil Rifles. Strictly speaking they're- a little extra-legal here in the US, but they'll serve our purposes nicely."

"Just what are ya gonna do with them peashooters?" Anthony asks, still somewhat breathless from cracked ribs.

"Plenty," I declared, "these bad boys launch from saboted, electrically charged rounds that launch an airfoil at any given target. Silent and powerful, hit a body in the stomach or small of the back at a distance and you got one unconscious mook. Also, they work well with the nightvision goggles my associates have on hand. And, as an addendum to the contract I paid out for these fellas, we'll be recording everything we do when we breach the place. A little evidence for the Dee of Jay, if you will. I'm sure the Mafioso would love to get some blackmail material, too."

"When are ya'll headin' out?" Applejack whispered.

"In two days," I answered, "my associates need to get a lay of the land and I need to inform them of the new developments that your Anthony has just given me. Twenty-four hours to stake out the place, another twelve hours to plot and scheme, then around the time of a shift change, we move. We'll keep you guys informed through my adjunct, Tolstoy," I then turned to Ms. Jessica, asking, "is there somewhere I can connect back to my house? I need to see if I can invite Tolstoy into your home network."

It took a little while, but I finally got my stubborn and officious adjunct in the family homestead's network. After getting situated within their network and having a meeting with family DA, Tolstoy informed my associates wanted a word. I had him make a call to a man codenamed "Winepress," and we held a brief conversation about where I was going to be. He told me he would drive out that way to see me; he and his crew had already began the surveil of the McDonald's Corporate Farm.

Twenty minutes later, he arrived in a banged-up Rang Rover which was out of place in this part of California, where manufacturer names like Dodge and Chevrolet were dominant. He stepped out of his ride and I knew, almost without telling, that this guy was a special forces man. What branch of service, I couldn't say, but it was not something from America. I guessed at SPETSNAZ, which would go with the old Russian Federation baldric he wore.

He greeted me in a familiar Russian phrase and we began conversing about the operation. He explained in fine detail how he and his fellows had been keeping watch of the compound ever since they arrived here. They were using all available information they could get their hands on to complete the picture of the facility as completely as possible. He also let me know that they were operating a high altitude drone that was capturing stills of every square centimeter of the place. I didn't want to know how he got it or what kind of drone they got. It was one of the situations that it was better not to ask.

Eventually, I get handed a crude sketching of the farm's layout. Indicated here and there in a tight scrawl of Cyrillic are descriptions of good and bad places for ingress. Similar notations were found indicating excellent places for egress. Other notes appeared at the edge of the map, noting shift changes and also noting some of the hardware the guards hefted. There's no real interpretation of "sick stick" but the forty or so words of descriptor gave me enough to go on. These guys had nausea bars, as an old drill sergeant called them. I knew the effect they had on a body. Point, push button, and the target at the other end was given the worse case of nausea and vomiting you could imagine, Hell, I ralphed six times when it was my turn to get hit with it. God, that sucked.

"Are you sure?" I asked Winepress, speaking in the only language he knew. He told me that with few exceptions, every patrolman in the compound held a nausea bar. He also let me know of the security measures in place, things like low-light enhanced cameras, motion sensors, electrified fencing, and guard towers manned by bolt-caster wielding snipers. Obviously, they didn't want any of the "employees" hurt, but the message was "resistance is futile." Our conversation lasted long into the evening, discussing where and when we would strike. Under the various scribbles of locations for ingress, there was a marking on the map of when the place was most vulnerable: between twenty-two hundred and zero-hundred hours. This, according to Winepress, was when produce and other goods were shipped out of the facility; most of the security contingent would be concentrated by the loading docks.

With an agreement that we would get underway as soon as the final arrangements were settled, and passing along of the intelligence Anthony had gathered, Winepress took off.

(~~~~~Applejack’s POV - five hours earlier~~~~~)

Fluttershy helped me get Anthony back up to our room. Ah hurt seeing ‘im hurt so bad, but Ah knew that this was what Ah had ta do. Ah was his mare, and Ah’m gonna be his wife. When he got settled Ah gave him some of that medicine fer his pain. It didn’t take too long and he was asleepin’ again. Lookin’ at ‘im Ah felt proud. Ah can’t explain it, but Ah felt so proud that ma Anthony was helpin’. Ah walked with Fluttershy outside. When we got out there Ah heard Jessica cursin’ a bit.

“Jes is a little ticked,” ‘Bloom warned me.

Ah nodded and walked toward her. Ah found her lookin’ at the small garden she and ‘Bloom had started. There was all kinds of things a growin’ in there. Carrots, lettuce, ‘taters, some corn, and even some strawberries were collected in the garden.

“Damned rabbits,” she muttered.

“What happened?” Ah asked.

“Some rabbits got into the garden. They ate the strawberries, and looks like the lettuce is gone too. Maybe I should set some traps,” she said.

“A...actually, if you don’t mind, I could possibly keep them from getting into your garden. Um…. if you want,” Fluttershy replied.

“If you want to take a shot at it, go right ahead,” Jessica said.

Ah watched as Fluttershy walked into the garden. Ah tried to pay attention ta what she was a doin’ and after a minute there was a few little rabbits movin’ up ta her.

“Look, these plants aren’t yours. I know, I know. You were confused, and hungry, and I’m sure if I ask my friends will plant a garden just for you to have, but this was their garden first,” she said.

Ah watched as one of the rabbits sniffed her, moved closer, and hopped into her arms.

“Oh my, Well, I like you too, but don’t you have a little family? No? I guess that it would be okay to take you home with us then,” she said.

Ah saw Jessica looked surprised as the rabbits moved out of our garden, and into the orchard.

“They said that they will just go into the garden that you plant for them. Oh, one of them said they like the strawberries the best,” Fluttershy replied.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Jessica replied.

Ah noticed the way she looked at the rabbit in Fluttershy’s arms. Ah gotta figure if’n that little feller wasn’t there he might have ended up in a stew pot. No sooner had Fluttershy finished then Ah heard the sound of ma little nephew cryin’. Ah looked ta see Big Mac carryin’ Rusty out ta his mama.

“Little feller is gettin’ hungry,” he said.

She nodded, and took him into her arms. Ah decided ta give her a little space while she fed ‘im, but Fluttershy went ta cooin’ over ‘im somethin’ awful.

“Oh he’s so adorable!” she squeed.

“He is, and he’s gonna be big and strong just like his father,” Ah heard Jessica say.

“Ya know, it ain’t gonna hurt fer ya to see her a feedin’ ‘im,” Big Mac said.

“Ah know,” Ah replied.

“Jest figured ya might wanna get used ta seein’ it. Yer gonna be doin’ it ‘fore long,” he said.

Ah looked at ‘im and Ah knew he was right. Ah was a carryin’ ma and Anthony’s foal, or foals, right now. Ah didn’t like ta admit that Big Mac was right, but he was. Ah was a gonna be doin’ this ‘fore long. Ah turned around and saw ma nephew latched onto one of Jes’ teats. It… It looked right. Ah ain’t never seen something so beautiful. Seein’ that little feller bein’ held, cuddled, and watchin’ ‘im suckle at his mama while she softly rocked ‘im and sung ta ‘im. Ah felt ma own belly. Ah was a gonna git ta do that ‘fore long.

We moved ta the barn, inta the shade, and after a little while lil Rusty finished. Jessica burped him, and then Ah watched as she looked at Fluttershy.

“Would you like to hold him?” She asked.