Terminal Leave

The Dawn Court of Canterlot convened every morning in the throne room as the two royal sisters met to change shifts after the raising of the sun. While both princesses were present, callers to court would wait to give the business of the day so that they could receive ruling and guidance. Ponies were quite self-governing, for the most part, so even the "major" issues that required mediation were usually little more than tiffs that had escalated out of hoof.

Every so often, however, came something that demanded true royal attention.

From her spot on the raised dais, Celestia, Princess of Equestria and Goddess of the Sun, warily eyed the three ponies before her. As they had approached, she'd known immediately that these ponies were newfoals, and they had not been legitimately converted. Their eyes were hard-edged, purposeful, and lacking in deference. They were humans' eyes, full of will but without joy to temper it.

Both Dusk and Dawn Court were open to the public, and ponies who fancied themselves as having a hoof on the pulse of the pony nation were always in attendance. Flanking the approach to the throne on either side was a small crowd of nobles, poets, artists, and tourists. Dozens of eyes joined Celestia in watching them closely. They could feel it too.

Chamberlain Red Carpet led them to the halfway point between the massive entry doors and the dais. She stopped, and in a booming voice, the red earth-pony mare announced their presence all the way up to the cavernous, vaulted ceiling.

"Calvin York, major, Third Infantry Division, United States Army."

The crowd burst into hushed murmurs of speculation. Celestia felt a frown tug at the corners of her mouth—that was how he'd requested to be announced?—but she held her neutral expression. Behind her suspended, glowing mane, she cast her eyes over to her younger sister Luna, who was already meeting her gaze with an uncharacteristically nervous expression. Luna still hadn't quite found her footing regarding royal duties, and probably wouldn't fully do so for another decade or two, but, even so, it was rare for her to look positively spooked.

Behind Red Carpet, the three visiting newfoals were walking in a tight wedge formation. The brick-red earth-pony stallion at the front was obviously Major York, and behind him were two slightly younger-looking adult ponies, a dark orange unicorn mare and a pale green pegasus stallion with incredibly large wings.

Celestia got the feeling that none of them had taken on pony names.

"And the other two?" she asked quietly, trying to keep the chill out of her voice.

Red Carpet opened her mouth to reply, but the brick-red stallion, Major York, spoke up first. "On my left is Staff Sergeant Fells," he said, indicating the pegasus, "and on my right is Specialist Cooper."

The tall white mare let the appropriate amount of time pass before she answered. In situations like this, it was a good idea to give out a subtle reminder of who would be controlling the pace of the upcoming conversation.

"Very good," said she, and lowered her head just a little. "You may approach, major."

A sea of heads turned in unison to follow Major York as he walked up to the dais and stopped, looking up into the two sets of beautiful eyes above him. A moment passed, and a muted gasp rippled through the crowd. This pony wasn't bowing!

Celestia found a reserve of much-needed levity within herself. She offered the newfoal a smile—a small one.

"You have the royal ears," she said. "Please speak."

"Your Royal Highnesses, you have in your service one Kyle Webster, pony-name of Rockheart. I believe he is with the Palace Watch?"

Luna stiffened, but remained silent. This did not go unnoticed by either Celestia or York.

"I know him, yes," said Celestia. The Royal Guard was a stressful and outwardly thankless job, and she knew that any given pony who chose to serve did so by declining countless other, more palatable lines of work. She knew and treasured all of her guardsponies for this, and newfoals who had made the choice were no exception. Not even their magically-altered coats and manes were enough to keep her from recognizing the pony underneath, every last one of them. Yes, she knew Rockheart, and to hear his old human name felt... unpleasant somehow. Jarring.

"I am a commissioned officer with the Judge Advocate General's Corps, serving what's left of the United States military. Sergeant Fells and Specialist Cooper are military police detailed to help me take custody of and escort Private First Class Webster back to Earth where he will stand trial by court-martial."

More murmuring from the assembled onlookers. Celestia lifted her head and let her gaze float out over the crowd. The murmurs quickly evaporated. Princess Luna daintily cleared her throat.

"With what is Rockheart being charged?" asked Luna. Celestia smiled inwardly at her sister's refusal to use his human name.

"Private Webster unlawfully left his post at Fort Lewis, traveled east towards the Barrier, joined the Railroad paramilitary organization, then later underwent conversion at one of the Conversion Bureaus in Charlotte. All of these actions demonstrate a lack of intent to return to duty. The United States Army is charging him with desertion under article 85, section A, paragraph three of the Uniform Code of Military Justice."

"Should Rockheart be found guilty, what would his sentence be?" asked Luna.

"Sentencing would be determined at the court-martial," said York. "I'm only here to take custody of Private Webster. Please send a runner for him and we'll leave."

Celestia stood, and Luna followed suit.

"I will not," said the Sun. "Guardspony Rockheart is a loyal servant of the Crown whose conduct has been without cause for suspicion. He is one of three newfoal guardsponies who assisted Princess Luna in composing a message that would speak to the hearts of the human warriors avoiding ponification out of fear of—"

"I don't care if he found a cure for cancer that also whitens teeth and freshens breath, he is wanted by the US government." That elicited plenty of louder gasps and a scant few suppressed giggles from the crowd.

York sighed and reined in the snark a bit. "Look, if you will not agree to Private Webster's extradition, then Equestrian-American relations may suffer. This is an act of goodwill and cooperation, Your Royal Highness... I highly suggest you hand custody of this individual over to us."

"It will be taken under advisement," quipped Celestia, taking a bit of satisfaction from York's resulting expression. Pony or human, it didn't matter—military types were all well-versed in the language of bureaucracy and could translate it instantly.

"Your Royal Highness, I am under orders not to return without Private Webst—"

Celestia's turn to interrupt. "Then allow me to welcome the three of you to Equestria, your new home!" she cheered, and the audience immediately burst out in robust laughter, including Luna, who held a ladylike hoof up to hide her mouth.

York's eyes were now drilling a hole in the two princesses. Celestia sighed as the laughter died down and nodded slowly. "All right, all right. I understand this is important to your superiors, Major York. I will summon whatever newfoal legal counsel I can find and review our records of Rockheart's activities, both as a human and as a pony. We will hold a hearing here at the palace in one week's time to determine whether or not Rockheart will be extradited back to Earth."

"One week? We already spent yesterday and last night in the palace waiting for this time with you." York looked back over his shoulder at the two enlisted ponies standing with the chamberlain, then back to the princesses. "What are we supposed to do in the meantime?"

Celestia gave a genuine, warm smile, and the three visitors felt a wonderful, tingling shudder run through them. "My advice would be to enjoy Equestria and what she has to offer... or would that be 'Sequestria' for you three?" Another swell of chuckling from the crowd. Celestia's eyes twinkled and she looked over to Luna. "Any thoughts, my sister?"

Luna smiled, but Celestia saw that it was backed with the faintest hint of weakness. "I already have something in mind for each of them," she said. "These poor souls have been converted, but they obviously have not yet had the opportunity to live as ponies. Perhaps that could be remedied."

"I will leave it in your hooves, then," said Celestia with a nod. "Who knows, our guests may find they wish to be done with this whole sordid business and just stay here with the friends they're about to make!"

"Are you saying we're disloyal?" piped up Cooper angrily from her spot next to Red Carpet, who winced.

"Not at all, my little pony!" called out Celestia to her. "Though it couldn't hurt to get a head start here, right? I should hope you consider Equestria your destiny, when all is said and done."

"Yeah, well, there's still quite a bit to be said and done yet," said York.

"On that," said Celestia, "we agree. That will be all on the matter for now."

York turned his back to Celestia—again not bowing—and as he passed Red Carpet, she fell into step next to him, with the two enlisted ponies falling in behind him. The three newfoals exited the throne room, and as two brown-coated earth-ponies of the Palace Watch escorted them to Princess Luna's study, they could hear the chamberlain announcing the next pony who had queued up for an audience.

*          *          *

Inkwell was Princess Luna's personal assistant, and the hapless young jet-black unicorn was struggling to keep pace with her long-legged employer as she strode fiercely through the palace corridors.

"Those three from Dawn Court—you know the ones I mean—I want them in separate quarters and under Palace-Watch escort at all times while out of their rooms," said the Moon. "No conferring amongst themselves, no leaving the palace grounds, and, most importantly, no snooping about. Keep the cage gilt, of course; see that they are comfortable and want for nothing."

Inkwell was scribbling away furiously with a quill on paper as she walked, both kept aloft with her seafoam-green magic. She flipped her sandy-beige mane out of the way of her small half-moon glasses and let out a breath. It was enough of a feat keeping up with Her Royal Highness when she had her dander up, but keeping up that walking pace combined with the concentration needed for writing magically was a trial!

"They probably won't like that, Your Royal Highness."

Luna snorted and let out a single, bitter laugh. "Not half as much as I dislike having one of our guardsponies dragged back to Earth on human business, I guarantee it!" She stopped suddenly (with Inkwell almost slamming into her backside) to lower her head and take a few sips of water from a chattering bronze fountain set into the wall.

"Besides," she said after finishing, "it shall only be for the remainder of the day. I intend to have those three out in Equestria and getting themselves some much-needed perspective by tomorrow morning."

Inkwell was taking this opportunity to catch her breath and review her notes so far. "Perspective, Your Royal Highness?"

"Verily, my dear assistant. Rare is it that newfoals come to Equestria and then return to Earth. We must see the opportunities in everything, even in unfortunate occasions such as this. Mayhap they shall share tales of their experiences here to their comrades and seed the desire to convert. You know as rumors go."

The Goddess of the Moon trotted over to a large, open-air window in the corridor and put her forehooves on the sill. Stretching her long, graceful neck outside, she called out in her royal Canterlot voice: "Sky Watch, to me!"

The Sky Watch was the pegasus branch of the Royal Guard, and their members bore coats of pure white with armor made out of brass, polished to resemble the luster of gold. It took but seconds for a pegasus guard to streak through the air and hover before her princess, bowing her head low in mid-air.

"Ah, Sunray! Summon two others and ascend forthwith to the observatory balcony, I pray you," ordered Luna.

"As you have commanded, Your Royal Highness," said the guard, who took off like a shot.

Luna resumed her brisk pace again, nobles and guardsponies alike scrambling out of her way as she marched out of the palace proper and into the quieter keep behind the main palace known as the Sanctum. The public record room was housed there, as were the study rooms, the observatory spire, and the personal chambers and studies of the Sun and Moon. As they crossed into the Sanctum, the ponies of the Royal Guard shifted from the brown, steel-clad earth-ponies of the Palace Watch to the dark-gray, silver-clad unicorns of the Sanctum Watch. The locks there were magical, and only the Sanctum Watch and the princesses could lock and unlock secured spaces in the Sanctum.

Luna ascended the observatory spire with Inkwell puffing along in her wake, and at last, blinding sunlight burst forth through the threshold that led onto the balcony. The Sanctum's observatory was the second-highest point in Equestria behind the mountain summit upon which the palace had been built. The huge, ornate telescope was the balcony's main feature, but today it was accompanied by three Sky-Watch pegasi, already standing abreast and at attention for their ruler.

The princess addressed them each in turn. "Sunray, to Sweet Apple Acres, and request they prepare to put up a newfoal earth-pony with lodging and daily duties. Updraft, to The Armoire at Prance Plaza, and tell them to make room for a newfoal in their schedule. Cloudveil, to the magic kindergarten down on Steeple Street, and see that they have a desk ready for a special guest visiting the little ones. Please return their confirmation by nightfall."

"Yes, Your Royal Highness!" cried Sunray with a salute of the hoof. With a whoosh and a few stray white feathers drifting to the balcony floor, the three pegasi sped on their way to their respective assignments.

Princess Luna sat down hard on the floor, looking rather pleased with herself. "There now! That takes care of that." She looked to her assistant. "Inkwell, please reserve three chariots for this evening. Let us get these... future subjects... out of our manes as soon as possible so that we might investigate Rockheart in peace, yes?"

At that, Inkwell smiled.

*          *          *

Pence Pocket had been a teenaged girl on the streets of Lyon, made homeless by the unrelenting advance of the Barrier east through Europe. She was now a baroness, and Princess Celestia's mare-in-waiting.

In her final days of humanity, she had been desperately trying to beg rides getting her closer and closer to the Bureau in Geneva, which had been the nearest one left at that point for any human still stuck in southeast France. During one of her many, many sweeps of the Barrier's danger zone, Princess Celestia had found her in the empty city, doubled over from hunger. She had wasted no time, teleporting the girl personally to the Geneva Bureau and politely requesting of the humans there if anyone would be willing to defer their conversion to a later time for her sake. The only problem then had been which human would receive the honor of fulfilling her request.

When the girl had been converted and had completed her Bureau education, Celestia had again arrived to personally check on her. The girl prostrated herself before the princess and kissed her hoof unbidden. She asked that she be allowed to serve Her Royal Highness—directly—for the rest of her life. Celestia had agreed, and she asked Pence Pocket for her human name. The young earth-pony mare with the copper coat and the golden mane would not give it. Celestia had smiled, and she never asked again.

The Goddess of the Sun hadn't realized just how much she'd needed a pony to simply confide in and speak plainly with. Sure, there was her younger sister or her personal student, but both of them still saw her only as a princess and goddess first, a friend second, despite uncountable assurances to the contrary from their own lips. It was a subconscious social barrier, one that familiarity itself couldn't break down. It had taken a newfoal, one who had not been raised in the trappings of pony social order, to truly be the presence Celestia needed in her life.

There was no better illustration of this than the fact that Pence Pocket was one of the few ponies who ever got to see Her Royal Highness without her gold regalia on. When Celestia was alone with her, there in her dimly-lit study in the Sanctum, she really could pretend that she was just another pony, letting out all of the frustration, anxiety, anger, and other uncouth emotions she couldn't have on display at court and in the public eye.

"It's the PER, I know it," fumed the most powerful creature in existence as she lay on her side with Pence Pocket running a stiff-bristled brush gently through her glowing mane. Celestia's otherworldly hair hardly needed brushing, but being groomed was as pleasant and relaxing an experience for her as it was for anypony else. "The tainted potion they insist on making is getting captured and used by governments now."

"We never had to worry much about PER where I was," said Pence Pocket. "There wasn't much there for them to do, so they didn't bother." Newfoals all had a strange, endearing accent when speaking Ponese, but there was something about the layered accents of languages like French and Hindi that made it even more pleasant. Inwardly, Celestia was looking forward to hearing the various newfoal accents spread across the generations to come. She'd already noted that some of the Canterlot elite had already taken to imitating newfoal manners of speech that they found particularly pleasing to the ear.

"How do you know that it was tainted potion they took, Celestia?" asked Pence Pocket. It had been established early on that the mare-in-waiting was not to style her as a princess while in private.

"I cannot recall their conversion dreams," she replied. "Also, such newfoals always have a... a look about them. A hardness in their eyes, like an adult who was never hugged as a child." She sighed under the gentle pressure of the brush on her scalp and neck.

"Are they dangerous, do you think?"

Celestia looked over at the granite fireplace. It was far too warm outside for it to be lit, but she found the crackling and popping of a good fire to be quite soothing too. She recalled Luna's haunted expression after the newfoal soldiers were announced.

"I, personally, have no reason to believe so. Still, I feel it would be best to keep Rockheart under guard until the hearing. I am no fool; in most human militaries, the penalty for desertion is death."

Pence Pocket's brush nearly fell from her mouth. "You would not give up a guardspony for death, would you, Celestia?"

The princess turned her neck about and gave the baroness a sad smile. "The charges leveled at Rockheart, if they are legitimate, predate his service with me," she said. "I would want humans to respect my own rule of law if they could visit Equestria, so it is only fair I do the same for them on Earth. It is why I'm having a hearing: to determine if there really are grounds for extradition."

The copper mare thought for a moment. "I suppose we are lucky, in a way," she said. "If Rockheart wasn't with the Royal Guard, they may have just snatched him from his home!"

The sentiment, while meant to buoy Celestia's mood, only set her to wondering if that wasn't already happening out in her realm. She quickly changed the subject; she didn't want to be a goddess again until Dusk Court at the very least.

"Speaking of guardsponies," she said, "has Fulcrum yet pulled his handsome head from his well-sculpted ass and picked up on the hints you've been dropping him?"

Pence Pocket giggled and blushed, dropping the brush from her mouth and jabbing Celestia's barrel gently. "Celestia!" she cried.

The goddess laughed, and every baby foal within a hundred miles laughed spontaneously with her. "I could give him an order, you know. 'Date my mare-in-waiting or get put on bread-and-water rations until you come to your senses!' I bet he'd clean up nice if you got that armor off him and got him into something gentlecoltly. Or if you just wanted to stop at getting the armor off him, I'm sure I could arrange for—"

"Celestia, enough!" squealed Pence Pocket through her giggles. Celestia rolled over to nuzzle her friend and join her in laughter. For those few moments, Equestria only had one princess.

*          *          *

Specialist Cooper fumed at the doorway leading out of her room, which was currently being blocked by two large, muscular brown guards with unwavering gazes. She hadn't exactly been the tallest person back when she'd been human, but she certainly would have had the size advantage on these two meatheads. You had to have a bit of scrap in you to rate as an MP anyway, but with none of her old resources available here, she felt helpless and hated it.

"Why're we being treated like criminals? Why can't I talk to Sergeant Fells or Major York?"

"We have proper holding cells for criminals here at the palace, and you aren't there," grunted one of the guards. "Ergo, you aren't being treated like criminals."

"You should take this time to prepare for your sequestration, miss," said the other. "If you would like a meal or a walk amongst the palace grounds, it will be granted to you."

Cooper clenched her teeth, and she felt her horn itch again. "Gah, just... just fuckin' leave me alone, all right? That's what I want right now."

The huge guards dipped their heads and took a single step back away from the doorway. "We will be right outside the door," said one, and his tone carried both reassurance and warning. The other guard drew the door closed, and then all was quiet.

Specialist Cooper let out a frustrated sigh, and she felt her ears droop. God. Her body wasn't going to let her forget she was a pony now, was it? The stupid horn on her head itched like crazy every couple of hours and her ears were just all over the place, swerving to listen to every little thing. She'd tried scratching her horn with her hooves, but putting any kind of pressure on the horn elicited a vague uncomfortable feeling deeper in her head, like wiggling a loose tooth.

She sauntered over to the full-length mirror next to the mahogany dresser and looked at herself. She'd been a pony for two weeks and still couldn't get used to looking and feeling like one. She'd just taken the potion, blacked out, and the next thing she knew she was stumbling around on her new stubby legs while medical techs helped to steady her. Her coat was such an ugly orange, too, she'd decided—the color of an old road cone. Her mane was a deep green, so all in all she thought she looked like a walking carrot. Her tail had a mind of its own. And that god-damned itch in her horn!

Cooper frowned at her reflection, who obligingly returned it. She should never have volunteered  for this. She wanted her human body back.

*          *          *

Staff Sergeant Fells was getting tired of all these ponies pointing out how big his wings were.

They seemed envious, or at least alluded to the notion that he should feel grateful, but since he had no frame of reference, he didn't much care. He couldn't even figure out how to use the damn things. They just sort of sat there in place, folded up. He could unfold them, but only with a level of focus that seemed to preclude flying in the first place. As soon as he relaxed the muscles, they just folded right back up anyway, snug against his torso, like how fingers curl when relaxing one's hand.

Flight would be neat, but it was a crutch he didn't have to lean on. Besides, it was unnecessary for the remainder of his stay anyhow. All he had to do was keep his head down and his mouth shut and get back to Earth as soon as possible.

He felt sorry for Webster, in his own way. Poor guy probably thought there was no way he'd be pursued through the Barrier, but there were still battles being fought Earthside, and with battles came spoils. Very interesting spoils, at times.

Fells paced over to the mirror and looked into it with a grim smile. The three longest pinions on his sage-green wings reached back to just past his tail... while folded. The humans back home who didn't want to get converted weren't holding out much hope, at this point, but he had more hope than most.

Improvise, adapt, and overcome, as the jarheads liked to say.

*          *          *

Major York didn't need to be told twice to stay in his room; he needed time to review the notes on the Webster case. JAG officers were in short supply these days, and he had the suspicion that he would be the prosecuting attorney once they were all back at Lewis.

Celestia didn't like them being there, that much was plain. If he'd had more time, he could have better explained the consequences for refusing to extradite Webster, but if she was going to use red tape to her advantage and hold a hearing, he might be able to paint a better picture for them there. It was probably for the best, he decided. A pony peanut gallery had been there at that morning's court, and he didn't want to scare the public unnecessarily. The dark-coated princess in particular had seemed on edge.

Still, most of the US's political body was gone, and the people who had plugged the power vacuum weren't the soft-bellied, kickback-obsessed civilian family-men Her Royal Highness had gotten used to dealing with in the early days. They were true believers, given neither to bluffing nor to being intimidated. York felt that, while he was here, it fell to him to do all he could to make her see that.

He was loyal to his birth country, sure, but he didn't want to see this get ugly.