Mid Pleasures and Palaces Though We May Roam

“...and so, what must the answer be?” Melissa finally stopped writing out the equation, and turned around to look at the rest of the one-room schoolhouse.

The foals all were either staring blankly at her, or feverishly scribbling down the math as she stepped to the side.

Briefly, She wondered how her teachers had managed to survive years of doing this, an eternity of thousand-mile stares barely comprehending what one was teaching them.

“Anyone? C’mon, I know one of you has an answer. I don’t bite.”

A foal in the back raised a trembling hoof.

“Yeah, you in the back. What do you think?”

“Three?”

Melissa pulled her calculator out of her pocket, turning the solar-powered device back on. Sure enough, that was what it said.

“Frak, that’s something else I need to make…” she muttered, and said more loudly, “Yes, correct!”

Abruptly the school bell began to ring, and the foals did what students did best; got the hell out of there before they could hear the teacher say any more.

Melissa let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding, and tossed the filed-down piece of chalk onto the old-style blackboard.

She walked over to Cheerilee, the local teacher. The pony had been taking notes along with the students, oddly enough. As the human approached, Cheerilee hastily added “= 3” to the end of the equation before getting to her feet.

“Thank you for your help, Ms. Foster. You seem to have quite the gift for mathematics!”

Melissa replied, “You’re welcome. By the way, do you think I might get paid more for doing this? I mean I spent two hours on this…”

Cheerilee shrugged, “You might. Let’s hope they don’t take it out of my paycheck though.”

Melissa grimaced. Did anyone pay their teachers a good salary? “Don’t worry, I don’t think anyone will blame you. They’ll just think it’s more of my future knowledge.”

Cheerilee breathed a sigh of relief. Melissa had originally come in for a workshop, to demonstrate some modern science, but somehow had found out about the unfortunate state of their mathematical education.

It wasn’t Cheerilee’s fault, she was the only teacher in town. She was still pretty good at teaching it, just...lacking in some areas.

The school board probably wouldn’t see it that way, they would likely have her sacked in an instant.
Or not. Again, only teacher in the town. It paid to be safe either way.

“You might wish to do more workshops in the future, I’ve never seen the students so alert.” Cheerilee suggested, “Especially given your payment. I hope it’s enough for now.” Cheerilee handed Melissa a small sack of coins.

Melissa opened the bag, squinting at the contents. “Holy hell, that’s a lot!” she hissed.

“200 bits, they said.”

“200--?” she looked in the bag again, “How did you fit them all in here?” She shook her head, “Know what, never mind. I gotta go. School bells give me an upset stomach. It’s been a pleasure, Ms. Cheerilee.”

Retrieving her backpack, and a waiting firearm, Melissa rushed out of the building. The weapon was a replica of the cosmonaut weapon, the TP-82. It was of a much poorer quality, and the third barrel wasn’t rifled, but it served its role. “Anduril” was written on the side, continuing her naming tradition.

Instead of walking down the short walkway to the main road, she took a right, hugging the edge of the playground. The children gave her a wide berth, either from her intimidating height, weapon, or association with a teacher.

Peering about, she looked for...ah! There they were. The three little figures she was seeking stood under the shade of a tree, right next to...oh hell.

Memories of taunts, jeers, and insults were shoved back into the mental bottle they belonged in, as Melissa shook her head, and collected herself. Confidently, she adjusted the strap of her new weapon, and moved along the edge of the playground to the tree.

The Cutie Mark Crusaders had evidently moved over to the tree to play a game, or talk over something, or do whatever it was they did, but were apparently disturbed by the arrival of two annoying little--fillies, Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon. The popular girl and her supporter. The CMC had their backs to Melissa, and Diamond Tiara was saying something; judging by body language, it was anything but nice. Tiara seemed to be holding something as well, a small object she tossed up and down, making the crusaders cringe every time it landed.

Though her mood darkened, Melissa screwed the lid on her nasty memories, wrapping duct tape around them for good measure and instead thinking about what Commander Greylorn would do.

“Hey, girls!” She called out cheerfully, grinning a bit, “You all ready to head out?”

The surprised fillies whipped around, surprised. “Melissa!” Sweetie Belle called out, “We--uh--”

“Sorry you two,” she interrupted, staring at the pair of slack-jawed brats, “But their sisters will kill me if I don’t get them home.“

She faltered for a second as she finally caught sight of the thing Diamond Tiara was holding.

A small tin and wood device. A long hollow cylinder at one point, with an undercarriage and two spoked wooden wheels attached to either side. It was a relatively decent model of a Quick-Firing 4.7 Inch British Army Medium Field Gun. The barrel was painted orange, with the wheels in purple.

Melissa knelt down in front of Diamond Tiara, staring at the toy instead of the filly, “It’s a QF 4.7 inch Gun. A model at least. It was originally a naval gun for the British Royal Navy in the late 1880s and 1890s, but somehow it got turned into a field gun around that same period, straight up into the First World War in 1914.”

She extended her hand, smiling pleasantly, “It’s got a pretty fascinating history I’d be happy to discuss with you, but we need to get going. May I have it?”

Wordlessly, the little bully handed the device over.

Putting her index finger and thumb into a circle, with all the other fingers extended, Melissa touched her thumb to her temple, “Be seeing you,” and stood up.

At her beckon, the crusaders eagerly followed her, falling in stride beside her.

They were forced to walk. Oscar was currently sitting a few kilometers away under a tent atop the hydroelectric dam, several guards hired to protect it while it trickle-charged.

“Wow!” Scootaloo was the first to speak once they were out of earshot, “I’ve never seen anyone do that! Is that some sort of human superpower, mind control?”

“Wait, really?” Sweetie Belle inquired, curious.

“Is that true?” Apple Bloom asked excitedly, as inevitable as it was.

Melissa facepalmed as they continued to bombard her with questions, but laughed, “No, I just did what Commander Greylorn would do.”

She turned the 4.7 gun over in her hand, shaking it. When no rattling reached her ears she passed it to Scootaloo, “I recommend you be more careful with this. I’ve heard far too many stories of bullies smashing what does not belong to them.”

Scootaloo hastily put the little toy into her saddlebag, and Apple Bloom hesitantly asked, “You know about Diamond Tiara?”

“Yep. That frakking brat’s gotta learn some manners.”

The Cutie Mark Crusaders looked at each other, Sweetie Belle mouthing how does she know? To the others.

Both shrugged, and after some silent debate, realized Melissa was looking at them with a small smirk, waiting patiently.

“How’d you know?” Apple Bloom inquired, “We’ve never told anyone.”

“Call it a hunch. How’d she get your 4.7 anyway?”

“Well,” Scootaloo began, “We wanted to try out more of that game…”

“Little Wars,” Sweetie Belle finished, “We wanted to try an idea we had. So we each brought some of our armies…”

Her horn igniting, she opened her bag to reveal a carefully wrapped cloth parcel. As if of its own accord, it unraveled partly to reveal one corner of it; a single poorly-made human figure on a stand. Frozen in time, the figure stood at rigid attention, rifle in parade-ground position, and was painted entirely in white. Next to the parcel was another 4.7 gun, its barrel white and wheels a light purple.

Apple Bloom had brought many more soldiers in her bag. She also brought variously colored projectiles, made to look like miniature artillery shells to be shot from the 4.7 guns.

After the Cutie Mark Crusaders saw her playing Rome: Total War for a few minutes, they had immediately wanted a try. They didn’t know what strategic command was, but by god were they going to try and get a cutie mark in it. Given the many limitations; keyboards built for hands, lack of computers, electrical charge, and many video game concepts in general, such acts would be impossible.

However, Melissa did have one thing for the briefly disappointed fillies. On her kindle she possessed a copy of HG Wells Little Wars, or known by its full title, Little Wars: a game for boys from twelve years of age to one hundred and fifty and for that more intelligent sort of girl who likes boys’ games and books. The famous writer had first published the book in 1913. It was a manual on a fairly complex game one could play using toy infantry, cavalry, and spring-loaded artillery guns. Sexist comments aside, the game had proven fairly popular, and was reprinted numerous times.

It had been in public domain since at least 1988, and completely free on kindle. Thus Melissa downloaded it awhile back. She came from a long line of military servicemen and women, developing in her a keen interest of warfare.

Building model soldiers and spring-loaded cannons had actually proven quite helpful in testing the pony manufacturing capabilities, and she’d been happy to do so. Several dozen cavalrymen, infantry, and a handful of guns had already been made.

“I left my cannon out on the desk,” Scootaloo spoke, snapping Melissa back to reality, “And Diamond Tiara grabbed it.”

“Just to mess with you I take it?” Melissa asked.

“Why does she do anything she does?” Apple Bloom inquired, rolling her eyes, “She just does it to be mean.”

“Amen to that,” Melissa agreed, “Back home there’s a certain type of school we have for certain ages, called high school. There are so many people who do things like that just for that reason.” her free hand balled into a fist, “And some people who make some crap up about you on Facebook and send it to the whole school, then you become a laughing stock, and--”

She blinked, realizing the crusaders were staring at her.

“Sorry. Flashbacks.”

“Your home sounds really weird.” Scootaloo stated bluntly.

“You have no idea, Scoots. You have no idea.”

They rounded a corner, and thankfully bumped right into Andrew and Fluttershy.

Melissa grinned upon seeing Andrew’s attire: he wore a full suit of purple armor, made from the scales of a dragon it looked like. They were likely the scales left over from Spike’s kaiju incident. His face was covered in sweat, and he looked fairly exhausted.

“Well, well, well,” she said, able to control her amusement unlike the crusaders next to her, “Hello, Barney the dinosaur! And to you too, Fluttershy! You guys missed the dragon migration! Be glad I have a video camera. If I can get my projector charged, I’ll show it to you.”

Fluttershy avoided eye contact, but Andrew glared at her, “Laugh it up, Melissa. Laugh it up.”

“Way ahead of you!” she laughed, “Why the he--frell are you wearing that?”

He rolled his eyes, “According to the doctors, I have a habit of getting myself injured. Might as well have told me to wear a bike helmet at all times…”

Melissa cocked her head, her smile faltering, “Well, that’s awful sexist, isn’t it?”

“Huh?”

She unzipped her N7 jacket and revealed a vest of her own made of the same material as Andrew’s armor. It was styled after modern US Military equipment, with loops and pockets and webbing all over the place, perfectly complementing her combat boots and camouflage side cap.

“I got my own MTV made, and they didn’t complain. Meanwhile, you get treated like a child with your equipment.”

“MTV like the cable channel or…?”

“Can it, you…” she hesitated to curse, noting the little fillies standing right next to her, “...you belemnite. Modular Tactical Vest. Anyway, this is just blatant sexism right here, only directed towards the guys instead of the gals.”

She turned and looked at Fluttershy, “What’s the deal with this? Do stallions in your culture need more protection or something?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Fluttershy replied, “What would that have to do with anything? He, uh...just has a tendency to attract trouble.”

“Well, be glad I’m here,” Melissa said, “I imagine you would’ve gotten yourself killed sooner or later, but since I’m here, that won’t happen!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Fluttershy blurted, “Are you saying we haven’t been protecting him?”

“And what makes you so special?” Andrew inquired with a less confrontational tone, “You just have a gun and a car, that seems to be our only difference.”

Melissa’s hand snapped up to her collar. It was frozen for a moment, trembling slightly as she compiled a response, suddenly very nervous for no apparent reason, “I...uh, well, I didn’t mean any offense, I just...and I…Engineering degree!”

She shook her head, “Forget it, Andrew. C’mon girls, I don’t want to get stiffed.”

“Huh?” Scootaloo grunted at the unfamiliar word, “‘Stiffed’?”

“Oh, let’s just go…”

As Melissa and the fillies she escorted moved out of earshot, Fluttershy found the courage to shook a dirty look at the departing human.
.

“Well that was weird…” Andrew commented, before noticing Fluttershy’s expression, “What?”

Fluttershy immediately shrank again, “Nothing!”

“What happened between you two? Tension’s so thick I could cut it with a chainsaw.”

Fluttershy whimpered a little, “I don’t like her.”

“Any particular reason?”

The pegasus flapped her wings to hover up next to his ear. She glanced up and down the deserted street, then whispered like she was part of a conspiracy, “...she’s dangerous. I don’t like having her around.”

Andrew furrowed his brow, a little surprised at her bluntness, “What on earth are you talking about?”

Fluttershy shushed him, somehow he was being too loud. “You were there when it happened! what kind of person would do such a thing?”

“Okay, I’m confused. Where, when, and what?”

“You know…” Fluttershy mumbled, “When she did the...mgfhf…”

“What?”

“The velociraptors...what she did to those poor birds…monstrous behavior.”

It took Andrew about a minute to figure it out, “Oh...she…” he mimed shooting an imaginary target.

Fluttershy winced, and nodded. Her voice raised slightly, “That...beast killed two of them! The third would have died if Twilight hadn’t saved him! His wound was infected too. He’s still sick! Why Rarity allows Melissa to stay in her home, why anypony allows her near foals is beyond me! That monster murdered two helpless--”

Andrew groaned, knowing he had to say something, but regretting what he knew would happen. “Fluttershy, you have to understand, where we come from--”

“But right now she isn’t where you come from! She’s here! We have rules of our own here, and they don’t involve killing helpless animals!”

“Were they really helpless?” Andrew inquired.

“Yes! How could they stand up to her horrible weapon? She’s a menace, and it’s only a matter of time--”

Andrew held up a hand, “Okay, stop. Don’t say you people don’t kill things in self defense, I’ve seen enough to know that if certain critters are bad enough, ponies will have to take them out. And it’s not Melissa’s fault. She didn’t start anything, she was grabbing some salvage for crying out loud! Those ‘helpless creatures’ were intent on eating her, that’s what they do! They surrounded her, and she did what I would have done! Don’t blame her for doing what she judged to be best, shooting a bunch of predators who would have liked nothing more than to have made her a meal! And she hasn’t even been here for more than a few weeks! She’s still used to our home! Give her a chance to adjust! Look at how long I took to adjust!”

He realized he had raised his voice as well, and was breathing hard.

“You never did anything like that.” Fluttershy said, “You’re gentle most of the time, and kind. But her...she’s different. Not just because of the velociraptors,” she added quickly, “There’s something else. Have you noticed the way she walks? The way she speaks and the way she handles that pistol? There’s something off about it, something...”

Andrew hesitated before replying, “No...I haven’t noticed anything odd. She sounds like she’s from the east coast, but other than that, nothing.”

He didn’t mention the flash of silver he saw in Melissa’s collar.

XXXXX

Dropping Scootaloo off in town at her home, Melissa led the remaining members of the Cutie Mark Crusaders back to Rarity’s place.

The rest of the Mane Six wouldn’t be back for several hours, hence why she’d been asked to babysit.

She made sure they had something to occupy their time, a series of movies selected from her small library, and set up on her pocket projector. Once that was done, she decided to step out for a long-awaited shower. Or closest thing she could come to.

Melissa moved into the woods, carrying a towel and a pile of clothes in a ziplock bag. The hot spring in this section of woods, where Rarity got her hot water most of the time, was a perfect--and private-- place to scrape the grime off her skin.

And a place she might pretend it was home, and not a land where talking monkeys were unheard of.

As she walked along the trail, she idly glanced at several of the plants. She halted suddenly, stooping to look at one of the ferns.

Nothing significant about it, just a fern...but something was off. She didn’t know what, it was just...different.

Anxiety, always at the back of her mind, suddenly pulsed through her heart. Anxiety, and aching loneliness, isolation, and sadness. An awareness that no matter how she imagined, this wasn’t home.

Releasing it, she walked away with a bit of a stumble.

Moving to the spring, unnaturally warm for the season, she yanked off her jacket and other cold weather gear.

The water was reasonably heated for bathing, Rarity had said, but Melissa tested it to be sure.

As she pulled off her “Cool. Nerd stuff” shirt, she let out a choking chuckle, “I really do stink!”

The Yuri Gagarin t-shirt underneath had been repaired--though it had taken no small amount of persuasion to keep Rarity from altering it--and was almost back to the way it had been. Key word “almost”. The lower half was patched fairly well, but if one looked close enough they could see the sewing lines, and the areas below them were a slightly different shade of black from the rest of the shirt. Take what you can get, I suppose.

Pulling her boots off, Melissa absent-mindedly withdrew her phone, flipping to her YouTube Red offline mixtape. Whenever she showered she liked to play music. Who didn’t?

Soon enough, The Hobbit(Rankin/Bass) soundtrack spilled from the device’s speakers, as she quickly washed all the dirt and grime off.

Sitting back at the edge of the pool, grimacing at something on her foot, she caught a glimpse at the mountains that rose in the distance over the treetops out of the corner of her eye.

She froze, then looked at the hills in full.

Home…

The damn hills were almost the same shade as the Appalachian Mountains.

Another wave of anxiety and homesickness washed over her, not helped by the realization that Home Sweet Home was playing in the background.

Angrily, she shut off the song, and climbed out of the water, seizing her towel.

Melissa opened the ziplock bag, withdrawing her “fall-in-the-river” clothes. Usually hikers will carry an extra set of clothes in their backpacks for emergencies, and Melissa was no exception. Now it was her only other set of clothes. The main kit of spare clothes was sitting in her laundry basket back on Earth.

Well, the two she had at the moment weren’t her only sets of clothes. They were simply the ones she could wear without risking her safety.

She sighed as she drew out her t-shirt. A blue Babylon Five t-shirt, with the titular station featured across the front along with three starfuries.
One of her flash drives back at Rarity’s contained the first four seasons, several of the movies, and the pilot. So the problem wasn’t that she wouldn’t see it again. The problem was where the shirt had come from.

Her brother, Garrett, had given the shirt to her a few years previously as a birthday present. Their parents were big fans of the show when it first premiered, and passed that onto their children. Melissa may or may not have developed a crush on Sheridan.

Melissa sniffled, and pulled the shirt on with pride. “Let’s hope the station’s luck will rub off on me, Garrett.” she whispered.

Her second layer, a long-sleeve shirt, only deepened the emotions. An Eagle Transporter from Space: 1999 flying over the lost moon, engines blasting silently across the right flank of the shirt. Her dad had given her this one, he’d been a big fan of the show as a kid.

The tears moved silently down her face, and Melissa could not resist. Pulling out her wallet, she looked at a small photo placed within.

Garrett, their parents Douglas and Elaine, and herself, standing together smiling on a bright and sunny day. They stood on a dock, before a massive battleship looming in the background. Grey and powerful and menacing, bristling with weaponry and sensors. Its primary armament, a pair of tri-barreled gun turrets, lay on the bow, pointed into the sky in defiance. A third sat in back, facing away but at the same elevation.

In massive white paint the number “64” was on the side of the hull, just past the anchor.

In the image she held Garrett in a headlock, ruffling her black shirt and blue legged formalwear with the effort. Her regular-suit-wearing younger brother fought back, grinning as he tried to keep his glasses on. His hair was kind of orange, like her own, though only a single color rather than stripes. She didn’t have any stripes in the photo either, her hair was mostly red; the light hitting it made it turn gold.
Her mother Elaine, a well-built woman with a full head of blond hair, had her arm around her husband, smiling, the color of her United States Air Force dress blues contrasting with his grey suit. Douglas was a redhead himself, and was gesturing to the battleship in the background.

The photo had been taken several months previously, after her graduation. To celebrate, they had gone on a brief road trip. One stop had been in Philadelphia.

Melissa’s thoughts wandered from past to present. What was her family doing now? Garrett was supposed to be training as a US Marine aviator, Elaine and Douglas were supposed to be working more on their private company, making profits and slowly becoming a powerhouse.

Melissa sighed, shakily, touching the photo gently. Guys...I wish you were here. I’m all alone.

Alone. She buried her face in her knees, trying to keep her sadness from escaping.

“Damn it Garrett, I wish you were here,” she said aloud, “This place is so frakking frustrating...I’m helpless. I can build guns and cook, but I’m reaching my limits! The plumbing’s a joke, there’s no internet or electricity, I’m running low on toiletries…”

She rubbed her face, “Something’s wrong here. I don’t know what I did, Garrett, but aside from Rarity and a few others, ponies keep shooting me dirty looks.. I can’t buy things without screwing something up, I feel like everyone’s watching me. I feel so alone, so isolated. I feel like I’m intruding every second I’m here, like I’m doing everything wrong.”

Melissa sighed, recalling a quote, “‘I never thought there could be anything worse than being all alone in the night.’ ‘But there is--being all alone in a crowd.’”

Peering at the picture again, she whispered, “You could’ve smoothed everything over, you charming little jerk.”

Growing up, there had never really been a “smart” one of the siblings. They were both bookworms in their own way, but Garrett had always been more charming. Where she wouldn’t understand humor and would get offended at random things, he would laugh and reply with the correct response.

Even so, they had been very good friends when they were young. All through school in fact. Despite his charm, they never really had a big circle of friends in high school. All they had was each other. He kept them from being hated, and she made sure those bullies shut up.

“Garrett, you probably could’ve figured out a way to get us home by now, just by being yourself, you jerk. Heck, you’re a bigger fan of the show than I am.”

He’d been a brony long before Melissa had discovered the show, and while she had quickly gotten herself up to speed, it always felt that he had been two steps ahead of her. Like she knew 99% of it, but he knew all of it. And that somehow made all the difference.

“Garrett, you would have half the town working for us, just like…”

Her sadness disappeared, replaced with anger, “...like Andrew.”

What did he have that she didn’t? He had nothing. Nothing! A liberal arts degree, the clothes on his back, and a cell phone.

What did she have? Oscar, Glamdring, every mobile device she owned, a stockpile of data, a massive library of her favorite films and shows, books, ammunition, food, medical supplies, an engineering degree, training...and yet that bastard was perfectly adapted.

She fumed continuously as she retrieved her filthy clothes.

He was dating Twilight and Fluttershy--she was sure of it--, had the Mane Six all adoring him, the town tolerated him, no food restrictions, plenty of income, everything that a displaced human could want.

What did she have? Several injuries, most of the town hating her, Celiac Disease, one possible friend, and very unstable income.

Their situations weren’t much different, why wasn’t he having a problem? Why was that Antediluvian bulldozer perfectly happy?! She was alone, depressed, and isolated.

“Goddammit!” Melissa roared, realizing she had accidentally dropped her dirty long-sleeve shirt into a mud puddle, “Why the hell is this planet conspiring against me?!”

“Stupid motherfucking miserable molecule of mildew!” she screamed, tears streaming once again, “Why?!”

Grabbing the shirt, Melissa threw it into the hot spring, breathing heavily.

“Well, that’s one sweater that won’t threaten us again.” A voice said in a deadpan tone.

Melissa yelped, realizing that she all she had on was her underwear. Seizing her towel and holding it around her, she rounded with shock and anger on Rarity..

“Cthulhu and all the elder gods themselves, woman! Don’t you people have any sense of privacy whatsoever?!”

It took her a moment to process that Rarity was smiling, and looked in Melissa’s general direction with eyes clamped tightly shut.

“This isn’t good enough, darling? Perhaps I should tie a blindfold as well.”

Melissa tried to hold a straight face, but couldn’t. She burst out laughing. Sitting down on a nearby rock, she laughed until she could barely breath. Tears still came, but perhaps she could pass the redness of her face off as being from laughter.

“I didn’t realize it was that funny…” Rarity muttered, raising an eyebrow, still with eyes closed.

“I know!” Melissa squealed in reply, coughing as she continued to laugh. She quickly pulled on her shirt and pants, “I don’t know why it’s so frelling funny! It just is!”

“Well, don’t leave your clothes sitting in the water, you never know what might happen!” Rarity turned around when Melissa allowed her to. Her horn flared to life, and the soaking wet shirt drifted between them, “And besides, that’s not how you wash clothes. Honestly, you could’ve asked me for help!”

“I didn’t want to impose, plus some of these things might need a washing machine.”

“A what?” Rarity inquired.

“It’s a big machine that you put clothes in, dump soap on, then the machine pours water on and tumbles it around. Then you put it in the dryer which does something similar except it’s used to dry the things.”

The unicorn nodded, and shook out the shirt a few times, “I’d love to have something like that--” she paused, and tilted her head to look at , “That was quite a rapid detailed explanation.”

“Andrew’s not too good at explaining Earth, is he?” Melissa asked.

“Twilight did interrogate him quite a lot, but yes, you are correct. He’s no good at explaining...many things.”

“I can see that. Fragging Jim Eckert impersonator…”

“That’s one he’s quite adept at not explaining; cultural references.” Rarity pointed out.

“I can give you my kindle if you want,” Melissa offered, “So long as you don’t break it.”

“Ah, your magic library! What marvels your people have…I’ve always wondered; what do the cities of Earth look like?” Rarity asked, tilting her head.

Melissa sighed, trying to keep it together, “They’re...they’re absolutely amazing works. Filled with skyscrapers. Buildings taller than anything you’ve seen, and dozens of them filling a city. Glimmering cities made of steel, glass, and stone. Technological marvels filling each and every one of them. Automatic doors, climate control, electric lighting, indoor plumbing hundreds of meters up. The whole of human knowledge at everyone’s fingertips, invisibly transmitted through the air. Automobiles roving the streets, massive aircraft capable of flying halfway around the world soaring overhead, trains traveling underground...And the people...Oh, the people. Millions of men, women, and children, of all sorts…”

Lifting a hand to her eyes, Melissa turned away, “We should get going,” her voice cracked, she cleared her throat, “We have things to do, don’t we?”

As they walked, they discussed the novel The Doomfarers of Coramonde. One of the few physical books Melissa had on hand.

“So how far did you get?” Melissa asked.

“I’ve gotten to around the halfway point, the Lobo vehicle just made it back to Vietnam. You were right, that could have been the endpoint. What happens next?”

“Honestly, I never read past that point. Anything later felt odd. I always find it weird how many dimension/time hopping characters have no connections back home, or are just that willing to throw their own societies away.”

Rarity nodded, “I know! Ponies are always extolling the virtues of previous periods, but just don’t understand the details of those periods, before modern magic, medicine, and technology!”

“‘One must point out...that many who now deplore the oppression injustice, and intrinsic ugliness of life in a technically advanced and congested society will decide that things were better when they were worse; and they will discover that to do without the functions proper to the great systems-- without telephone, electric light, car, lighters, telegrams-- is all very well for a week or so, but that is not amusing as a way of life.’” Melissa struggled to recall the entirety of the quote, but managed it eventually.

“Exactly!”

Ever since Melissa had shown up at Rarity’s door, soaked and on crutches, the two had been roommates. The human had been quite surprised to find that Rarity was a bit of a closet nerd, discovering that they had similar tastes, at least in terms of books.

Rarity had been her first real friend on this world, Melissa would eventually realize.

XXXXX

Hours later, when it was the appropriate time, Melissa walked Apple Bloom back to Sweet Apple Acres without any trouble.

When they got there, however, they found the family barricading the barn. As they arrived, the members of the Apple family ceased their work to look over. Melissa avoided the deadly gaze of Granny Smith, why the old mare was glaring she knew not.

“Hey, you two!” Applejack called out, releasing her hold on a large wooden beam she had been pushing, “You made it just in time!”

“They comin’ again?” Apple Bloom asked, trotting forward.

“Yep. They just can’t leave us alone!” Applejack grimaced, “Hope they don’t damage too much this time…”

“Hope who doesn’t do what when?” Melissa inquired, confused, “What’s going on?”

“Aw, the timber wolves are bothering us again.” Applejack explained, “This pack seems to have it out for us.”

“Huh? Timber wolves?” Melissa scratched her head, “Just kill them, if they’re such a threat.”

Applejack raised an eyebrow, “Sugarcube, creatures back on your world--”

“I’m not talking about terrestrial animals, I’m talking about your timber wolves. Big, made of wood, terrible breath, hard as heck to kill, but killable. Why don’t you just crush them?”

The orange pony was surprised at Melissa’s knowledge, “If we’re talking about th’ same critters, you should know that smashing them only slows them down. Guns don’t do anything, and we’ve never tried magic--”

Melissa grinned, prospects filling her mind, “Stopping them permanently is easy as pie! I can do that if I have an hour to prepare. Do you mind?”

Applejack stared at her like she was crazy, “How could you possibly stop those things?”

“Well, fire.”

“We’ve tried that,” AJ replied, “Then we’ve got a timber wolf running around on fire.”

“Okay, addendum, if I’m using that word correctly. Fire and explosives. I can get both working in an hour, I just need Andrew, some kerosene, a bunch of scrap metal, and Pinkie Pie.”

Applejack was silent for a time, simply staring.

“Trust me, it makes more sense than it seems to. I’ll do it for free or for pay. Guaranteed to keep those things away from your farm.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Applejack nodded, “Alright. We’ll give it a go.”

XXXXX

“Why do you need me again?” Andrew hissed, peering at Melissa through the low light. They both crouched in a dugout in the bushes atop one of the numerous hills on the Apple Family land, looking out over the landscape. The sun had gone down, but still offered some light. In the distance, there were sounds of a pack of wild animals moving.

“We’ve only got two TB-82s, dumbass,” she whispered back, adjusting her helmet and laying her shotgun, Anduril, on the ground, “and you’re the only guy with shotgun experience aside from me! What’s the big deal? You’ve got that armor!” She wore her standard outfit, with the addition of her MTV and a battered fire department helmet. The reflective tape, insignia, and bright yellow was all covered by a woodland camouflage net, courtesy of Rarity. A darkened headlamp was mounted to the front, behind her raised plexiglass visor.

“Don’t remind me…” he grunted. Andrew was still wearing his dragon-skin plate armor, though at Melissa’s advice, several pieces had been stripped from it to lighten the load. He awkwardly held a TP-82, and a Roman-gladius-ripoff lay on the ground beside him, “also, Twilight asked me to take notes. On your tactics or something.”

Melissa lifted a set of binoculars to her eyes, “Of course she did. They’re actual tactics versus just spamming lead all over the place like a certain statue-stealing wannabe-Indiana Jones dino fucker I know.”

“Well okay, asshole, then why’d we need her?” Andrew jerked his thumb back at Fluttershy, a bit angry at Melissa's sudden and unexpected anger, “She doesn’t seem like she wants to be here.”

Sighing, Melissa rubbed the bridge of her nose, “Look, I don’t care about your stupid little love triangle. Fluttershy, you’re the closest thing we’ve got to a combat medic, and you have experience treating shrapnel injuries. There’s no guarantee these things won’t explode the instant we fire.”

“Why the hell are we carrying them, then?!”

“Because, idiot. What, do you wanna take your little sword up against them? News flash, it doesn’t work without a shield! 300 isn’t an example you want to follow for anything! Frank Miller was drunk, high, or all of the above off his ass when he wrote that!”

They stared at her.

“Don’t...call him an idiot…” Fluttershy murmured.

“Well, I’m sorry for being stressed right now!” Melissa said, a little calmer than previously, “But there’s a bunch of timberwolves I’m trying to think about, and I can’t really think about the little niceties right now!”

“Or ever, apparently…” Andrew grumbled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Nothing!”

Melissa growled, and banged her head against the ground. She'd never been so happy to see a bunch of bloodthirsty monsters arrive.
Below the hill, the Timberwolves emerged from the gloom, doing their best to eat the apples and wreck up the place.

“Cover your ears.” she ordered, as one of the wolves reached a trap.

It stepped on a large leaf, and heard a click from under its foot. It didn't even have a chance to look down; immediately an explosion rippled through the ground, annihilating the wolf.
In a chain reaction, three other IEDs went off, incinerating two of the wolves, and showering the rest with debris. Shrapnel bounced against the humans’ helmets, making a rapid tinkling sound, not that they could hear it.

Melissa pointed her weapon toward the sky, and squeezed the third trigger. Flares were an old invention, dating back nearly a millennium on Earth, and their use as a signaling device went back to the 1700s. At least, that's what Wikipedia said. The article she'd read during lunch in high school. Several years ago.

Man, I remember the weirdest things... Melissa thought as the flare shot into the sky. Wasn't a star shell, but it was certainly effective in lighting up the forest for a brief couple seconds. There was a sound like thunder, and a group of three Timberwolves exploded into fragments.

“That's our cue,” Melissa grinned, happy as can be as she slammed her visor down, jumped up, and moved to the edge of cover, firing her shotgun once at a dazed wolf. To her relief, the weapon didn't explode, and the ammunition went off fairly well. A Timberwolf’s head exploded, splinters bouncing off the plexiglass, as she turned and shot another.
Andrew followed suit, firing off his flare at one of the wolves, setting it aflame. They could not halt the magnesium ignition.

The remaining wolves charged up the hill, much quicker than Melissa had anticipated.

Standing up out of cover, Melissa reloaded, firing again. Once, twice.

Normal bullets would’ve just torn holes in the beasts, but shotgun pellets were known for being able to shatter wooden sheets.

And these were simply made of a few logs and kindling.

Down the hill, the remaining IEDs thinned out their ranks a bit, as did the continuous firing of Pinkie Pie’s four-pounder party cannon. Apparently the thing could be loaded just as much with grapeshot as it could be with cake.

Hastily, she attempted to reload, breaking open the stock and sending three smoking shells flying. She didn’t have the formula to smokeless powder, nor did she know how a handful of discharges had completely immersed the hilltop in smoke.

Andrew shouted something, before her thoughts became a litany of pain, and she was sent flying across the hill by something hitting her on the side of the helmet.

Rolling to a stop, she briefly felt her braincase, noting that no blood came away. Stupid, stupid, watch your damn back, watch your damn back!

Melissa struggled to get up, and raise her weapon, as a pair of villainous green eyes moved towards her through the smoke.

A sickening clack answered her when she pulled the trigger, and looked down just in time to see one of the shells she had just loaded be crushed underneath the wolf. She hadn’t closed the stock before she had been hit.

A pair of shotgun blasts echoed through the hills, as the dozens of tiny pellets sent the timberwolf straight to hell.

Coughing, Andrew moved out of the smoke. He kicked the remaining logs. “Piece of shit,” he managed to gasp, before going into a coughing fit.

“Thanks!” Melissa called out, coughing herself, as she retrieved a large bottle about the size of a jerry can from its hiding place in a bush..

Upending it, she began to pour out the contents onto the shattered remains of the wolf, a clear colorless liquid. Once finished, she lit a match, and threw it onto the body.

Immediately, the kerosene lit up, limited to the body(hopefully), and the fire diligently went to work making sure it could do no harm.

There seemed to be no other foes around, as the smoke dissipated somewhat, and four ponies came marching up the hill.

In the distance, they could see Rainbow Dash and several other pegasi dumping water onto the fires.

“Well?” Melissa coughed, swatting at the air, “How was that?”

Applejack, and the rest of the Apple family, only stared wide-eyed at her.

“What? I got rid of your wolf problem, didn’t I?” she gestured to the still-burning wolf behind her.

Peering around her, the other family members stared at the fire.

“Hello? Good, bad, what?”

“You...you really did.” Applejack finally said.

“Duh. What’d you expect?” Melissa made a face, “You expected us to fail, didn’t you?”

“No, no!” Applejack quickly said, “Jus’...Didn’t expect this.”

“Well, how else do you deal with gaseous life forms?” she asked, then held up a hand. “Hold on a second,” she started jumped up and down on a branch that wasn’t burning, the wood crunching under her weight.

“Gas-what now?” Applejack inquired.

“The wolves. They’re really hard to destroy because they possess the wood.” She picked up the stick, covered with her size-ten footprints, and held it out. Wisps of green smoke began to drift away. “The only shape they’ve been known to do seems to be timberwolves, maybe that’s the best way to get nutrients. Gaseous life forms don’t exactly have teeth, y’know.”

“What are gaseous watcha-call-it?” Pinkie Pie called out, pushing her party cannon up the hill toward them.

“They’re organisms that aren’t carbon-based, like you or I, but made of gases, like this.” she held up the stick again, gesturing to the wisps of smoke. Understanding this time, the other members of the family drew back, frightened.

“Oh, it’s okay!” Melissa hastened to say, “Less dangerous than…” she coughed, “This freaking smoke up here, man, we’ve gotta fix that formula!”

“You’re darn tootin’!” Granny Smith called out, coughing a bit herself, “These...old...lungs...bleah, can’t talk in this stuff!”

Melissa waved them further down the hill, “Let’s talk over here.”

As they filed by, she called out, “Andrew! Might wanna get off the hill! Need help with Fluttershy?”

“No, we’re fine!”

“You sure?”

“I said we’re fine!” he barked.

Melissa rolled her eyes, “By Cthulhu, crabby much?”

She realized the others were staring at her, “What?”

“Nothin’...” Applejack said.

“Okay then, what’d you think?”

Before Applejack could reply, Granny Smith stepped forward, “It’s effective, you bet yer left boot it is, but lookit the damage it’s done to our orchard!”

She gestured to the uprooted trees, “Those magic thingies jus’ tore out half a dozen trees! Trees that will take a while to grow again!”

Melissa crossed her arms, “Mrs. Smith, it’s not magic. They were Improvised Explosive Devices, or IEDs for short. I am sorry for the damage, but it was either this or dozens of trees and their harvest ruined. Do you really want that?”

“Least those ones still had roots!”

“Mrs. Smith,” Melissa ground out angrily, trying to stay calm, “Your crop is your lifeblood. How much of your harvest would you have lost had I not intervened?”

“That’s not the point--”

“I repeat, your crop is everything. Your pride is not worth your life. Six trees for good, or half a harvest gone. Besides, you don’t need IEDs every time, all you need is a few of these!” she held up her TP-82, “Cthulhu, why don’t you people have shotguns? Did you just not invent them?”

“Okay,” Applejack tried to interrupt loudly, “I think that’s enough--”

“Shotguns are fine. We jus’ don’t want anything you made, you--you-- witch! We don’t need your kind around here!”

Melissa tilted her head in confusion for a moment, as the gears turned in her mind. “Cthulhu’s left testicle, that’s what this is about.”

She turned to Applejack, “I am respectfully requesting my payment.”

The green elderly pony nearby snarled, “You don’t get--”

Applejack pushed forward a sack of bits, cutting off her grandmother, “Go on, Melissa. Thanks for trying to help.”

Melissa took the sack and stormed off, brushing past Andrew and Fluttershy.

Granny Smith started to say something loudly, starting with “good riddance”, but Applejack muttered something rapidly that Andrew couldn’t hear.

“What happened?” He asked.

Applejack face-hoofed. “Ah am really sorry ‘bout all this, Andrew,” she said, taking a moment to pull off her hat, “Granny and her got in a bit of an...argument.”

“About what?”

“That weapon of hers, Granny said some not-very-kind things.” she looked disgusted, “...She called Mel a witch.”

Andrew peered after Melissa, who pocketed the bags and began to walk off through the orchard.

“Your grandmother really said that?” Fluttershy asked, hesitantly joining the conversation.

“‘Course I did, I told that filthy witch--” Granny Smith began, but was surprised to see her granddaughter shoot her a glare filled with daggers.

Applejack rubbed her face, “Granny, I know you have problems with magic, but doesn’t she already have enough of her own?”

“So? We all have problems! That filly’s gotta learn some manners--”

“Maybe she wouldn’t have such a tough time if people like you wouldn’t around calling her a witch!” Andrew blurted, and facepalmed, “God, what’s the matter with you? I know she can be rude, but so was I when I first showed up!”

He started to walk off, “I’m gonna go talk to her.”

Fluttershy pulled him back, “Wait! We should give her time to cool off, first! She might release any pent-up rage on you!”

“She’s headed into the forest though!”

“Melissa is more than capable of taking care of herself,” Fluttershy assured him, “just give her some time.”

XXXXX

Melissa gently shut the door to Zecora’s hut, flicking her headlamp on as she trudged down the steps.

So she was right. The Timberwolves were more than just wood, there was something else to them. Zecora hadn’t believed it to be a gaseous life form, but there was little else to go on. An energy being didn’t fit the description.

In all likelihood it was just some gaseous life form that emulated wolves in order to reproduce and gain sustenance. The bad breath when there wasn’t much to give off such a smell other than rotting food supported this hypothesis.

Once that was done, she could consult the zebra on their secret projects, things she had been surprised the zebra knew, considering the main Ponyville residents did not. It was reminiscent of some examples of imperialism she recalled, where technologies and medicines were ignored because of the cultures they were attached to.

The sun had long since faded, and her light cut deeply into the darkness, much deeper than any bioluminescent light or lantern around the small building could.

She sighed wistfully at the thought of mass-produced flashlights, light bulbs, electric lighting, and so many things that could have improved upon the dim glare produced by the hut.

Her boots crunching and squishing in the mud, Melissa began the long journey back to Ponyville.

The road was wide, but the edge was very disturbing. There could be anything hiding just beyond the range of her light.

Skinwalkers, nightmarish creatures of Native American lore could be waiting, their vicious howls signaling the approach of dozens more. Eight feet tall, black except for their bone-white head fur, with savage claws ready to devour an unwary traveler.

She jumped at the sound of something thudding behind her, and whirled around, Anduril at the ready.

Nothing revealed itself in the light, and Melissa giggled nervously; her water bottle had fallen out of her pack.

She picked it up, careful to keep her head up to keep a light on her perimeter.

Though she would never admit it, ever since she was a child Melissa had been terrified of the dark.

A minotaur could jump out at her, wanting to do whatever it was they did in the myths.

Slenderman could exist. ‘Nuff said.

Heck, another cockatrice could come out and--

“Johnny, get your gun, get your gun, get your gun,” Melissa suddenly burst out in song, singing as loudly as she could, and put her pistol on safety, “Take it on the run, take on the run, on the run...Hear them calling you and me, every son of liberty. Hurry right away, no delay, go today, make your daddy glad to have had such a lad.”

She quickened her pace, and yawned slightly before slipping back into, “Tell your sweetheart not to pine, to be proud her boy’s in line…”

Melissa grinned as she went into the chorus; though she stumbled a bit onto the edge of the path, “Over there, over there, send the word send the word over there, that the yanks are coming, the yanks are coming, the drums rum-tumming everywhere…So beware…” she said to herself, pausing for a second, “Wait. No, it’s so prepare. Right.”

“So prepare, say a prayer…” around this area of the trail, where the path was the most thin, there was a particularly big tree, its thick roots jutting into the road. She’d have to be careful. “...Send the word, send the word, to beware…We’ll be over, we’re coming oh…” Her boot caught on a root, and for a second she hung precariously on the edge of the trail. She scrabbled at the wooden branch nearby, but it was dead. With a sickening snap, it broke. “Oooohhh Shit!”

Melissa rolled down the hill. Her helmet fell over her eyes and she lost her weapon as she bounced off branches and a rock or two.
She finally came to a stop on something soft. Too dark to tell what it was, and she was too scared and in pain to find out.

Groaning, she fearfully backed up against a tree, yanking out her pistol. Bracing herself against it, Melissa carefully panned her headlamp and the weapon’s light around, searching for anything that might try to eat her.

When nothing jumped out to scare the daylights out of her, she hastily grabbed the small amount of gear that had spilled from her bag, her TP-82, and scrambled back up the hill.

“Johnny, get your gun, get your gun, get your gun,” Melissa sang again resuming her tromp home. “Take it on the run, on the run, on the run…”

She gasped slightly. A massive yawn threatened to escape. “Hear them calling you and me...every son of liberty…”

Melissa paused again a few seconds later, and leaned over onto her knees. “Hurry right away...No delay...go...today...” she yawned, and tried to stand up.

Man, I’m tired...Melissa thought. As that crossed her mind, another yawn escaped. Her strength ebbed away with each passing second. She didn’t even know if she could make it back to Ponyville.

She had to, though. “Make your daddy glad...to…” Melissa didn’t remember much after that.

She didn’t remember making it to the apple trees. All she remembered was waking up eating grass.

“Melissa? What’re you doing back, and this late? I thought you went back to town!” A voice asked.

“Hey…” another yawn, “AJ...It’s only 7:30.”

“Yeah...That’s late.”

“Right. Farmer.” Melissa mumbled, and tried to get up. She fell on her face again.

“Sugarcube, you alright?” Applejack asked, helping her up.

“Yeah, I’m fine just point the way…” she pushed off the pony, and fell on her face. Again.

“No, I don’t think ya are. You look exhausted.”

In fact, she looked worse than exhausted. Her clothes had minor scuffs and scratches, she was nearly drenched in sweat, and her skin was looking off-color.

“I hope you’re not sick…” Applejack muttered. “C’mon inside, You need sleep.”

Melissa struggled again, “Wait, no...I can’t stay...I need to...To…” her head went limp, and she began to snore loudly.

“Celestia, what do humans eat?!” Applejack grunted, as she dragged Melissa towards the barn. Only place big enough to fit a human.

Applejack barely managed to drag Melissa into the barn, and rolled her onto some hay.

“Phasers...Full spread…” Applejack heard the young woman mutter, as she put a few blankets over her. Applejack also made sure none of the elecky-thingies fell out. Those were really important...For some reason.

“Aliens. They always have to use magic to store their info, don’t they? Never stories or books.”

Applejack went back to retrieve some of the stuff Melissa had dropped back in the orchard. When she came back, she tilted her head to the side in confusion.

Wonder what’s with her hair? she wondered. Melissa’s hair looked odd. Shiny, and rigid. When the pony touched it, it wasn’t soft. It was tough.

Aliens. Probably molting or somethin’.