There was an envelope in Apple Bloom’s mail box. It was the first thing she noticed when she walked into the office.
The tiny, prefabricated building at the outskirts of Bagram Air Base might have been built by the Soviets during the 1980s, or it might have been slapped together just a few years earlier when the country was invaded again. It was hard to tell. Apple Bloom saw past the cracked linoleum, dated computers, maps tacked to the wall, and dirt to focus on the letter.
She smiled at the Ponyville postmark and familiar writing in the address. She reached for it, but then drew her hoof back. Not yet.
Turning around, she went to her desk. Passing the coffee maker on the way, she got a cup. It wasn’t great coffee, but the Americans only seemed to make it one way, so she had little choice.
The office had had a candy dish once, but every morsel was taken nearly as quickly as the dish was filled. In a war of waiting and endurance, it was easy to give in to treats. Apple Bloom had to admit that she'd eaten her share.
The others in the office were primarily American. It was their war, after all. Though, the ISAF patch on Apple Bloom’s Equestrian Army uniform indicated that technically it was all of NATO’s war.
The boss walked in. She was a civilian employee of the US Defense Intelligence Agency. “Has anyone found that fucker bin Laden yet?”
It was her standard morning greeting. The man hadn’t been seen in a few years. Maybe if they found him, they could go home. Apple Bloom and the others in the room, a US Navy Lieutenant, a US Army Sergeant First Class, pair of USMC Sergeants, a British Army Corporal, and two junior DIA civilians all chorused “Not yet, ma’am.”
“Well, get on it, J2X,” the boss said good-naturedly. She went to her own desk.
The J2 Intelligence Division at Bagram was diverse by design, as was the X subcomponent, but it really only succeeded in making Apple Bloom feel isolated. The Equestrian military’s footprint in Operation Enduring Freedom was minimal, so while Apple Bloom wasn’t the only pony on the base, she was the only one in the office.
She’d been told about a psychology study that ponies had herd instincts. She’d tried to connect with her coworkers and had had some success, but it just wasn’t the same. She thought about the letter, a connection to home.
She was pulled out of the daydream by a tap on her shoulder. “The op today is a little shorthanded. Are you good for security?”
She could say no, but she was expected to say yes. It was the asking-but-not-really-asking military type of question. Apple Bloom nodded.
The boss and a couple of the others began putting their gear together. The military personnel changed clothes. Due to being under the auspices of DIA-a civilian organization-they were allowed to run field operations without uniforms which would normally be a violation of the laws of war. Apple Bloom was unclear on the legal aspects.
She stripped out of her own camo. Humans didn’t seem to have a problem with naked ponies, but still instinctively looked away when the clothes came off.
Between the diverse members of the office, they’d had long talks about the differences between their respective organizations, and in the months they’d been together that had probably only scratched the surface. The conversations were usually punctuated by, “Wait, you do what?”
That was similar to the reactions Apple Bloom had gotten from many of the folks back home. It was almost as if she’d become foreign herself. So few ponies were in the military. Even fewer went to Afghanistan of all places.
The boss collected a briefcase and clipped a holster to her belt, adjusting it to not cover the pocket of her blue jeans and concealing it with her jacket. The two others going on the op also tooled up. Apple Bloom picked up her carbine from the rack inside the door.
They went outside to a battered Toyota Landcruiser. Dust nearly poured out when Apple Bloom opened the door. The boss sat in the passenger seat and Apple Bloom got in behind her. The other two filled the driver’s seat and the other half of the back.
They headed for the berm, navigating between tanks and Humvees. A pair of F-16s roared down the runway in the distance. It was a large base, with thousands of personnel. So many different things were happening all at once. Apple Bloom considered her own small role.
Winding their way out through the concrete chicanes at the front gate, they headed south. Afghanistan was a dangerous place, but if they moved fast and didn’t attract any attention to their old SUV, they should be fine. If not, they were equipped to deal with minor threats.
It was a long drive to Kabul. Threat always hung in the air, but very rarely did it come in the middle of nowhere at highway speeds. Apple Bloom kept her eyes moving, but let her mind drift to the letter waiting for her. What did it contain? The suspense was there every time she received mail. The waiting in anticipation was almost better than the reveal.
It was a trick to navigate in residential Kabul. GPS could only do so much. The directions had apparently been good, however, and they pulled up at the contact’s house. The boss went inside with one other.
The young soldier left with Apple Bloom got out and stretched, glancing around the rooftops in the process. Apple Bloom kept the window rolled down and covered her side of the street, keeping her weapon out of sight.
Time passed. Meeting with a source proceeded at their pace.
“You think the boss will start taking you inside eventually?” her partner asked.
Apple Bloom shook her head. “Not sure that’s a good plan.”
“Yeah. These guys fuck goats. Wouldn’t want to give them any ideas.”
He was teasing her, but Apple Bloom winced.
The man frowned and turned slightly. “Take a look over my right shoulder. Don’t stare.”
Apple Bloom did. Down the street, a man on a cell phone had his eyes fixed on the two of them. Apple Bloom felt her heartrate quicken, just slightly. It took her a moment to notice another observer, standing near a wall across the street.
“Yeah, I see ‘em,” she said.
“Got another maybe down the block.” Her partner lifted his walkie. “We have a couple onlookers out here.”
Within two minutes, everyone was back in the SUV and moving. Apple Bloom kept her eyes peeled, but saw nothing as they left the area.
She turned back to the front. “How did it go, ma’am?”
“Not bad at all.” The boss shuffled her notes. “Tell you what, since we’re close, I'll treat you all to the Embassy for lunch.”
All of them were in agreement. The State Department cafeteria was leaps and bounds beyond the dining facility back at Bagram.
The US Embassy was a rectangular building the color of sandstone, just like every other government building, just like the color of the country. Equestria didn’t have an embassy in Afghanistan, but if they did, Apple Bloom was sure it would be painted a lot more colorfully.
The Embassy building was air conditioned and clean. It was nice, but the contrast was striking. Apple Bloom almost felt like some sort of crusty gunslinger coming in from the range as she followed the others in their dusty clothes to the cafeteria.
And strangely enough, the others seemed to feel the same. A woman in high heels and a skirt crossed the hallway to get out of their way.
Over lunch, Apple Bloom thought about it again. She felt like an outsider, but in a crew of outsiders. What did that make her? Maybe that feeling would pass in time. Maybe in the future, her friends would help her feel like she fit in.
But the letter back in her mailbox was the here and now. Nopony writing to her thought of her as a stranger.
On the way out of Kabul, Apple Bloom wished she had eaten more of the fresh salad. It was sure to be better than whatever the military served and she hadn’t even seen the menu.
Back at Bagram, the gate guards checked their identification thoroughly and swept under the SUV for bombs. The soldiers in the Humvees in front of them hadn’t gotten the same scrutiny. Of course it was because they weren’t the usual troops.
Returning to the office, they walked through the operation debrief. Apple Bloom told and wrote down what she had seen. She filed the paperwork and wrote a few messages.
By the evening, she’d run out of work to be done. She picked up the letter in her mailbox, glancing at it briefly before putting it in her pocket.
She had barely gotten outside when the attack siren began. Hustling over to a concrete shelter, she waited in place for it to be called off. A couple of American soldiers arrived. They traded hellos, as one does when sharing a bunker.
Apple Bloom touched the letter in her pocket. She debated, but no, not yet. She could wait.
Ten minutes passed. No mortar shells landed. Perhaps it was a false alarm. The all-clear was sounded.
Apple Bloom went to her quarters, the Equestrian female barracks. The place smelled like mares, something familiar, but Apple Bloom barely seemed to know any of them. They only met briefly when coming or going.
She took off her uniform and put the letter on her pillow. She took a shower, thinking about the letter. So close.
It was early, but Apple Bloom decided to treat herself. She rolled into bed, propping up her head and holding the letter in front of her. She remembered the details, the address, the postmark of the previous envelope. She would still remember this one, when the next came.
She carefully opened the envelope, and pulled out the letter.
