Mail Troubles 2: Electric Boogaloo

Chapters

Chapter 1: In the Beginning
Chapter 2: Time to Run
Chapter 3: S.U.A.E.I
Chapter 4: Wayward Son

Chapter 1: In the Beginning

Mornings are for murders.

Yet another alarm clock succumbed to my equine rage as my sleep-deprived hoof came down on the clanging thing and ended its short, but valiant life of waking sleepers from the dead in an orgiastic explosion of gears, springs, and assorted screws. One of its bells rolled on the floor in a final desperate attempt to finish the clock’s mission, and as it rattled to a stop it did so with the satisfaction of a job well done.

“Well shit,” I muttered, looking at the devastation I had wrought. “Guess it’s time to wake up.”

“James, you up?” called the lovely voice of my partner from downstairs. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Be there in a minute,” I groaned back, tumbling out of the bed to land on all four hooves in a perfect touch down, knees flexed as they took up the impact of my weight.

As I straightened back up, I took stock of things. Knees were working, heart was pumping, lungs breathing. That is until I took a look at the long mirror on the wall, and what I saw made me catch my breath as memories washed through me.

My name is James Allens, and I used to be a human. An average, ordinary, twenty-something out to make his mark in the world. Until I answered a very strange job ad run by a very strange person for a very strange company that literally offered me bags of gold to become a cross-dimensional pony express delivering packages of chaos throughout the multiverse.

Of course, a pony express needs ponies, and I quickly found out that I was intended to be said pony, but before you go, “James, are you an idiot? Why didn’t you run like hell?” I’d like to remind you of said bags of gold.

So like any good American capitalist I signed on the dotted line and sacrificed my body for cash and let Discord, the actual Spirit of Chaos, turn me into a pony fuzzball complete with hooves, a mane and a tail. As it turns out, being turned into another species neither gives you automatic knowledge of how to use your new body, nor does it turn you into an escapee from the Horny Jail, looking to reoffend.

So after about a month of learning to use my new body productively… stop snickering, I started criss-crossing the multiverse dropping off packages and the bits of chaos I left in my wake livened things up across the board. I’ve been to Picard’s Enterprise and even have a signed group photo from them. Been to a lot of other places as well, including Skyrim.

Which is where things went south.

I was delivering a package to the Dragonborn, when I got tangled up in a conspiracy involving Mara and her plot to take over the pantheon of gods and goddesses that rule over Nirn. Long story short, I lost my humanity, barely avoided becoming Mara’s version of Barnabas, and then… died. Or nearly so.

The only reason I’m still alive is that Discord pulled another transformation out of his mismatched butt and gave me a new body. Problem was, my stored humanity got lost in the process and the only way to make a new body for my spirit was to use that of my best friend, Derpy Hooves as a template. So instead of being a red blooded stallion, I’m now a red flanked and rosy cheeked mare. Permanently.

I’m still getting used to the proportions, and while the plumbing is definitely different I haven’t had to deal with the “time of the month” yet. Mainly because mares are apparently only fertile in the spring and fall, instead of every month of the year like humans.

“James! Your muffins are getting cold,” called Derpy from downstairs, breaking me out of my reverie.

“Coming!” I called back, and clopped out of my bedroom and down the stairs to the kitchen.

“Hi James,” chirped little Dinky, Derpy’s cute as a button daughter who was busy burying a muffin in an obscene amount of maple syrup.

“Canadian syrup makers are cackling with glee right now,” I muttered, sliding into place.

“What was that?” Derpy asked, setting down a pair of carrot muffins for me.

“Nothing!” I instantly riposted, filling my treacherous mouth with delicious baked goods before I could say anything that could get me in trouble.

Derpy was gentle, sweet and bubbly; except where Dinky was concerned. Any threat or insult to the little unicorn was guaranteed to turn the shy mailmare into the warrior pegasus, that I had learned was both her birthright and her curse. So I took another mouthful of muffin to keep my tongue busy, which is when my stomach informed me that maybe the first mouthful might have been more of a baked bad than good and that a hasty retreat was likely in order.

“Hurk,” I grunted a minute later, as I prayed to “Nice and Cold”, that most porcelain of gods.

“I don’t know what went wrong,” Derpy commented, rubbing my back. “I’ve used that recipe tons of times and me and Dinky are fine.”

I spent a few more minutes of making offerings to the god of late night inebriation before my stomach got back on an even keel and we made our way back to the kitchen.

“You okay?” Derpy asked, worry in her voice.

“Seems better now,” I answered, reaching into our fridge and pulling out some ginger ale that was there. “Good thing I’m seeing Doctor Stable for my work check up this morning.”

“You sure you’re ready to go back to work? It’s only been a couple of months since… “ Derpy’s voice trailed off as the memories of the death of my body flooded through me.

I won’t go into the details, but let’s just say it was one of the nastier ways to go and that I still have regular nightmares. Nightmares that the other mare in my life, Princess Luna, takes great pains to try to ward off with a regrettably low success rate. While my body might be all mare, my psyche is apparently all too human with all too human night terrors.

Let’s just say it’s a work in progress.

“Yeah,” I heard myself say. “I’m good.”

“Then why is the soda can shaped like that?” Derpy asked.

Looking down I saw that what had been a tin of ginger ale was more of an hourglass made by Escher. My gaze travelled from the can to a pair of worried walleyed eyes that wanted nothing but the best for me.

“I just… I just need to get out and do things. You know?” I asked, setting down the wrecked can. “I gotta move, gotta get around. I’ve got… I dunno what I’ve got.”

“Itchy hooves,” Dinky provided. “Your hooves are itchy and you wanna scratch them on the ground.”

Kids. Wiser than Solomon and Einstein combined.

“Yeah. Itchy Hooves. I better go get them checked out,” I replied, ruffling Dinky’s mane.

“I don’t like it, but okay,” Derpy acquiesced. “As long as I walk you there, and to work.”

“Hey, you’re the bossmare,” I quipped back.

“And don’t you forget it,” Derpy half-threatened, moving in for a quick nuzzle that settled the issue.

Troubles packed away in our metaphorical kit bags the three of us headed out, and after a detour to drop Dinky off at school, I once again found myself walking the familiar corridors of Ponyville General again. I exchanged greetings with several nurses and orderlies who had helped me during my original physical therapy where I learned how to operate a pony body until it was just as responsive as my human body had been.

“Come in,” called the genial voice of the good doctor, when we knocked on his office door.

“Ah James, good to see you,” continued the doctor, a brown maned unicorn stallion. “How’s marehood treating you?”

“He’s been off his feed for four days now and today he threw up,” Derpy interjected. I hadn’t realized Derpy was keeping that close of tabs on me.

“This come on suddenly?” Hooves asked, as he started to probe my chest with an excessively cold stethoscope. Seriously, is it a universal thing that all doctors keep their stuff in a freezer? Bears looking into.

“And he’s got itchy hooves too. Wants to go to work no matter how dumb it is.”

“Hey, I’m right here,” I protested. “Literally right here.”

“I think his belly is swollen a bit too,” Derpy continued, unabated and unaffected by reality. “Is it croup Doctor? Or what about Wellerman’s Syndrome? Or maybe—”

“Hmmm,” muttered the doctor, causing my overprotective marefriend to pause her litany of my potential diseases in an attempt to hear what dreaded thing I’d contracted. “Lungs are clear, heart is strong, marefriend is showing guarding behaviour, patient is irritable, nauseous and off their feed. Hmmm.”

“I’m not pregnant, am I?” I asked with a laugh.

“We are well past spring and fall is still awhile away, so I doubt it, but why don’t you fill up this little cup for me and I’ll make sure,” Dr. Stable answered, levitating the aforementioned cup to me. “You can go behind the screen for some privacy. And besides, I can use the sample to test for several other things as well.”

“Are you seriously…” my voice trailed off, while taking the cup and obediently going behind the screen while muttering various things that would get me in trouble if I said them anywhere around Dinky.

A minute later I dropped the now sealed cup on the counter, giving both the other ponies in the room the stink eye. “There’s your sample. Enjoy.”

Dr. Stable had obviously been immunized against snark by being exposed to it in the past as my commentary flew right past him. Popping off the top of the container with his magic, he dropped in a yellow stick of some sort, which sat there for a solid two minutes before changing to a deep blue.

I was at a loss for words.

“So,” began the doctor, “who’s the lucky stallion?”

“I…”

“James, have you been cheating on me and Luna?” Derpy demanded, wings flaring for a moment before a thought struck her. “Not that either of us would mind sharing. We shared you, after all.”

“But Doc!” I said, interrupting that train of memories. “I haven’t been with any stallions. I haven’t had… um… relations, with any stallions. At all.”

“Ah, the Special Spell,” Dr. Stable commented, giving me a nudge and conspiratorial wink. “I should have known. Well we can certainly—“

“NO! No stallions, no special spell, no nothing,” I interjected, strongly. “I can not be pregnant. Not will not, not should not. Can not.”

“Hmm, seeing as you're that sure an ultrasound would confirm the results or rule out a false positive,” said the doctor, rubbing his chin in thought. “I can schedule one for you in the next couple of days.”

“I’m supposed to go back to work today though,” I shot back.

After doing nothing but sitting around the house and yard for the past two months I didn’t just have “itchy hooves”, I was bored out of my skull. Yes, I still had sweats and night terrors, but I also had some of the best mental health pe—ponies I’d ever met working on things with me. All being at home was doing was giving my mind time to dredge even more interesting nightmare fuel out of a lack of something to do. I’d rather be working than coming up with more what-if scenarios in my mind.

“Other than probably being pregnant there’s absolutely nothing I’m concerned about with you, James. If you want to go to work I’ll sign off on your medical clearance,” Stable declared, adding, “As long as you come in for that ultrasound so that we can get a confirmation and an estimated due date.”

“You can’t let him work! He’s pregnant!” Insisted Derpy, clutching me by one wing.

“Probably pregnant, and medically speaking, he can work up until a couple of months before he’s due without any danger to his potential foal,” Stable responded.

“But…”

“I should point out that you worked during your pregnancy,” Stable countered, and I could see from the look on my marefriend’s face that the shot had gone home.

“You fight dirty, Doc,” was the grey pegasi’s response.

“As his herdmate I do expect you to keep an eye on him, make sure he eats right, does the right kinds of exercise, and starts seeing me for prenatal care on a regular basis,” the unicorn added, continuing to demonstrate his invulnerability to personal attacks, all while giving Derpy something to clutch onto. Which she did with a will.

“You bet!” Derpy agreed, snapping out a salute that would have done a Wonderbolt proud. “I’ll make sure he takes good care of our foal.”

Some dust got into my eye when Derpy used the word, “our”. Stupid dust. It had to be dust because guys don’t get all teary at the thought of having a family of their own.

I promised the doc I’d be in for an ultrasound the day after I got back from wherever Discord was sending me for my first job, and Derpy and I set off for the offices of The Pony Express to give our boss the good news. Derpy chatted up a storm, while the thought that I might actually be pregnant really started to sink in.

I, was probably pregnant, and that’s not something men can do. Ergo, I wasn’t male anymore. I was female. My mind kept rolling around on that while Derpy kept on talking, not realizing that the conversation was all one-sided until just before we got to the expanded barn that was our HQ.

“...and no Pinkie Punch for now and I need to talk to Tree Hugger about any good herbs or meditations she knows about—” Derpy was saying, before taking a breath. “James, are you okay? Do we need to go back to Doctor Stable?”

“It just really hit me. I’m a mare now. I’m not a guy anymore,” I said, mind reeling as I my gender change started to really sink in for the first time since it had happened two months ago. “I don’t know what I am.”

“You’re my special somepony, that’s what you are,” Derpy said, folding me into her light grey wings.

For long moments we just sat there as I breathed in the warmth and comfort that was freely offered. Ponies don’t hide public displays of affection and so we were undisturbed as soft feathers held me in a tight embrace even as the gentle smell of Derpy’s mane soothed my agitated mind.

“Thanks,” I muttered, getting another piece of dust in my eye.

“It’s okay,” Derpy soothed, wiping away the moisture from my face with delicate care. “We can still go home if you want.”

“No, I’ve got to do this,” I said, straightening up and shelving my mental issues for later. After all, a mare’s gotta do what a mare’s gotta do.

Derpy took her cue and released me from her hold of steel wrapped in velvet. Pegasi all have strong wings. No one notices that much because their feathers are so soft.

“Discord’s been good about paying me while I’ve been laid up, but it’s time to get some work done cause I’m sure the packages have been stacking up,” I added, throwing another excuse to get back to work onto the pile.

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad,” Derpy replied, scuffing a hoof and looking a bit embarrassed. “I didn’t want you to worry or anything.”

Five minutes later I was standing in my boss’s office. For all that he’s an eldritch entity and the Oh My Godfather of Chaos, Discord does occasionally love his little lapses into the realms of Order. Such as having an actual office with an actual desk. Even if said desk sat perfectly level with just one leg instead of four.

“James!” Discord enthused, “Good to see you. How are things holding up? Ready to head back out into the wild weird yonder?”

“About that,” I began, before an earth pony I didn’t recognize burst in.

“Chief!” cried the wide-eyed stallion. “Package Pile 14 is destabilizing. If she goes it could take out half of Ponyville with it.”

“Get the Schmooze on it, and while that loveable slime is glomming up from the bottom, you and the others redistribute to the piles on either side,” Discord ordered, suddenly every inch in command. The door closed and I guess my face looked a little shocked at how bad things had gotten around the office.

“You’re still the best pony we’ve ever had, and while we do have a few other delivery ponies besides you now,” he paused to ruffle Derpy’s mane affectionately, “things have gotten a little backed up without you here. So, ready to strap on those saddlebags?”

“Um, about that,” I said, and I had to look away as Discord’s face dropped. Like literally dropped. He had to pick it back up off the floor.

“James…” he began, warningly.

“It’s not that, I can go to work today. It’s just down the road there may be a small problem,” I told my boss, holding up a hoof to try to forestall any further protests.

“How small?” Discord asked, suspicion writ large on his face. With a felt marker. I swear there isn’t anything Discord won’t do for a sight gag.

“Foal sized,” I replied back, deliberately drawing things out. You can’t get much over on a spirit, but this time I think I had him. “I might be a little bit pregnant.”

“Pregnant?” asked Discord, clearly surprised and oddly pleased. “I always knew you adapted well to new situations, but I have to say I’m really impressed at you diving into one of the most fun-damental parts of being a mare. Who’s the lucky stallion?”

“That’s the thing, we don’t know. And before you jump to conclusions it’s not a mare either, and it may not be an actual pregnancy anyway,” I blurted out. Something in Discord’s comment about embracing my mare-dom slammed my mental issues back into the fore of my mind. “Dr. Stable says he wants to do an ultrasound tomorrow to be sure.”

“Ultrasound, pshaw,” Discord scoffed. “What does that quack know anyway? Let me have a look.”

Before I could say or do anything Discord swept me up and quite literally held me up to the ceiling light, peering back and forth as if he could see through me.

“Discord!” Derpy complained. “Put him down.”

“Take a look at this,” Discord said, elongating a finger to tap a spot on my belly. “Does that look like a foal to you?”

“OHMYGOSH OHMYGOSH OHMYGOSH OHMYGOSH,” the words practically flying out of my marefriend, before erupting into a full on squeal of delight. “You ARE pregnant.”

“Which means,” Discord said with a sigh, as he lowered me back down. “We need to put you on light duties for the foreseeable future. And I’d had such hopes of having you deliver some packages to Sir Integra Van Helsing.”

“Sorry,” was all I could think of to say.

“Don’t be,” Discord said with a smile. “This is a wonderful time in any adult’s life. Enjoy it. Besides, there’s more than enough light runs to do, and while you’re on the job, I’ll see what I can do about tracking down the other parent to your bundle of joy.”

“Thanks Discord, I appreciate that,” I replied.

I really did appreciate it too. Equestria may have a lot of things, but immaculate conceptions and virgin births were not among them. Plus, I was pretty sure I hadn’t been hit by a shower of gold, ravaged by a bull, visited by the holy or unholy spirit, gotten drunk and knocked up, or even had… maritals at all. And while Discord may not have been omniscient, omnipotent and an eternal asshole like his cousin Q, Discord usually had a decent head on his shoulders and genuinely cared about those he formed friendships with.

So I was reasonably confident he'd be able to track down who had stuck a bun in my oven.

“In the meantime, let's get you outfitted with your new gear,” Discord said, carrying on, “And I’ve got just the job to get you back into the swing of things. An easy job. In fact, it’s not even a delivery at all.”

“Oh?” Derpy and I chorused together. We looked at each other at that, and our muzzles nearly touched in that reflexive glance before we both shyly looked away.

“You two are adorable, simply adorable,” Discord chuckled. “But as for the job, it’s a simple one pony run to make a quick pickup for Princess Celestia.”

“We make runs to other dimensions,” I objected, frowning. “What does Celestia want with something from another world?”

“Tea,” Discord replied, giggling as me and Derpy’s jaws went slack. “You’re headed out to get Sunbutt some otherworldlyl tea from an old friend of hers known simply as, ‘Doctor’.”

“Doctor?” I asked, “Doctor who?”

“I believe so,” Discord answered. “I believe so.”

Author's Note

So welcome back to Mail Troubles. The first Mail Troubles was straight up a test bed for a lot of story ideas. Some good, some bad, and some which downright sucked. About the best thing was learning that I could indeed write in the first person. I was frankly shocked that it became a very popular story of mine considering the story's otherwise deep flaws.

Which has made me want to do sequel for a long time now. A sequel that would keep to the original episodic promise of the first one and avoid any arc that went more than 2-3 chapters.

My so-called Brightly Break was the ideal time and place to do it, and so here we are. As you've read the first story will be taking us to visit everyone's favourite Gallifreyan, The Doctor.

Chapter 2: Time to Run

I had a pretty good idea of where I was going, or at least who I was going to be picking up Celestia’s package from. Discord may think he’s pretty sneaky, and sometimes he is, but for the most part his chaos is pretty obvious. At least to me. Which made me very curious as to how I was going to catch up with someone who moved around more than a dimension crossing pony. A curiosity that I hoped would be satisfied by a door in front of me marked “Outbound Prep.”

“Hey,” I said, pushing open the door and immediately falling into silence as the insides of the room became apparent.

What I had thought was a simple room was instead an expansive cavern filled with devices, gizmos, doohickeys and whatchamacallits of all sizes, shapes and colours. The sounds from the horde of… things varied across the range of possible noises to combine into a cacophonous bedlam that pinned my ears back and threatened to overwhelm me.

I’m decently brave. I’ve stared down men and gods alike, but this level of mayhem had me backing up and away. I’d have turned and run, except a loop of magic caught me by the back of the neck and pulled me in.

“Ah, Courier James!” yelled a young mare with a yellowish grey coat, who oddly enough reminded me of Twilight Sparkle. “I’ve been waiting for you to show up.”

“What? I can barely hear you!” I yelled back at the mare, over the bedlam of her cavern.

“Oh! Sorry, I forget sometimes,” yelled the mare, and a burst of purplish magic expanded out from her horn, freezing all of the myriad devices in place. The contrasting silence was almost as loud as the noise had been. “Hey there. I’m Moondancer. Glad you finally got here.”

“Yeah, me too. Uh, what the heck is all this?” I asked, trying not to go poking at things. I’d run into too many things that poked back.

“Oh, Discord lets me run a lot of experiments into trans-dimensional theory. You can get some fascinating data, not too mention being able to interact with multiple versions of yourself can be just the best. So many insights into so many parallel ideas—” the mare kept babbling on about ‘M-theory’ and ‘topological manifolds’ and things that made my head spin just listening to her.

“Hey,” I declared, stopping the mare just as she was starting to speak in calculus and taking on a rapturous look that wouldn’t be out of place in church. “Aren’t I supposed to be getting outfitted for my trip?”

“Oh right,” replied the mare, shaking her head ruefully for a few moments before diving headfirst into the closest pile of stuff.

“Uh, anything I can help you find?” I asked, a little confused and trying not to look at the rather exposed rump of the mare as she sent various devices and gizmos flying.

I was born male, and despite my recent conversion to a female body, I’m still attracted to the female form. It kinda makes me wonder sometimes where I sit on the male/female/bi/hetero/homo spectrum. It wasn’t something I’d ever worried about when I was a human male growing up in middle class, middle America.

Sure, I knew a few people who were gay, and I was pretty sure that Ms. Lowry, the Social Studies teacher was a lesbian. At least according to the rumour mill, she was. But my parents always taught me that God looked at the heart first and the body second. So, if love was there, what did it matter what kind of body the people involved had? As long as there was love, God approved. Either way, though, my early years never even came close to preparing me for my current circumstances.

“Here we go!” Moondancer crowed, emerging from the stack with what looked like a flat, rectangular platform in tow.

“Uh, what is it?” I wittily asked, my own ruminations shelved for another time.

“It’s a mounting board,” the mare stated, and I had to blank my mind to shut down multiple inappropriate thoughts.

“Why does everypony go like that?” Moondancer complained, stomping a foot in frustration and bringing me back to my senses. “It’s a board for mounting your special shoes to your hooves. You know, so you can travel between dimensions?”

“OH!” I responded, and I could feel my brain switch back into gear. “How does it uh… work?”

“It’s super easy,” replied Moondancer, bouncing happily as she slid the board down in front of me. “All I have to do is put in a resonance crystal for the particular dimension you’re headed for, have you step onto the indicated spots on the board, touch it with a bit of magic and voila! You get a pair of shoes and covers that get you to your destination and back again.”

“So, no collars, no harness, no weirdness?” I asked, eyeing the board with a bit of suspicion. Discord loved his little tricks that embarrassed you once you were just a bit too deep to get back out again.

“Nope!” the mare responded cheerily, adding, “I can even make the shoes different colours. You got a preference?”

“Black, please,” I said, stepping onto the board and placing my feet in the spots that said ‘Hooves here.’

“You sure you don’t want something different? I can do anything,” Moondancer riposted, waggling her eyebrows. “Maybe something in a midnight blue with a lunar cutie mark?”

It was an open secret that Luna had “claimed” me as part of her herd and shared me with Derpy, something that had caused a fair bit of jealousy back when I was the first alien male that Discord had brought to Equestria. Especially in light of the seven to three female to male ratio in the pony nation. Since then however, Discord had brought in several more beings to help out in the courier biz, and I’d undergone an involuntary sex change.

“Just black. This time,” I answered, and it seemed to satisfy Moondancer, who smiled and nodded before applying her magic to the board.

The enchanted wood lit up with energy and I felt a tightening pressure around my hooves. Not painful. Equines don’t have pain nerves in their hooves the same way humans don't have them in their fingernails, but I did have the feeling that all four of my extremities were caught in four vices that had no intention of ever letting go.

The pressure built and built and built until I was about to start trying to break free, when it all suddenly faded away and Moondancer gave a satisfied nod as she examined my feet.

“Okay, all done. You can get off the board now,” the mare announced, barely giving me enough time to step off before she whisked the thing back to the recesses of the device pile.

My hooves sounded with a crisper clop as they hit the floor and I turned up a forehoof to have a closer look. The entire underside of my hoof and nearly all of its wall were covered in what looked like shiny black plastic. A couple of taps on the floor gave back a very sharp solid sound though, completely unlike the soft thud of plastic.

“What is this stuff?” I asked.

“Well, we don’t really have an official name for it, but a bunch of us around the office like to call it ‘Discordite’ cause it’s kinda chaotic like he is,” Moondancer explained, before looking at the clock on the wall and gasping.

“You’re late!” the mare exclaimed, pushing me to the door. “Oh crap, almost forgot.”

“Forgot what?” I asked, before I realized what Moondancer hadn’t forked over yet. “Saddlebags! Where are my saddlebags?”

“Here, here,” shot back the panicking mare throwing a mass of straps and leather over my head and body as we worked together to fasten it into place. About halfway through I realized Moondancer had grabbed the wrong tack. Instead of the gear being just my saddlebags she’d grabbed an entire work harness complete with horse collar and breeching straps to which were attached not my usual pair of saddlebags, but a full set of four bags. Two in their usual place just in front of each hip and two more on either side of my barrel.

“Hey, this isn’t my—” I protested, but Moondancer kept fastening buckles and shoving me toward the door.

“Go, go, go!” shouted the mare, and before I knew it I was out the door with the wrong gear on.

I had seen the clock on the wall, and Moondancer was right. I was running late and in the Pony Express running late was bad as there were specific windows of time when a pony could cross the dimensional barriers even with Discord’s help. So, I trotted down the corridor, getting the feel of the harness over my body and rolling my shoulders and hips a bit as I moved to shift the straps into position.

“James! There you are,” Discord said, as I came into the room. “You’re running a tad behind.”

“Sorry boss, bit of trouble getting outfitted,” I responded, as a couple of the Departure Room helpers swarmed over me to get me ready to head out. They worked on the harness first, cinching up straps here and loosening a couple there until I could barely feel the tack on me at all. After which they started dropping some interesting looking packages into my bags. Discord must have seen my wordless question.

“After your past adventures I realized my couriers needed a few extra things. Travel rations and a medical kit, guaranteed to work on most creatures. A way to call for help and a tracking beacon, so you can send a m'aidez and so we can find you if you get stuck,” Discord took a moment to take me by the shoulders and look me in the eye. “I want you to know how very sorry I am about what happened to you on Nirn. It will never, ever, happen again to you or anypony else that works for me.”

“Thanks Discord,” I replied, feeling myself tear up a little. “Fluttershy would be proud to hear you say that.”

“She was, and she is,” the big guy replied, smiling down at me and for a moment I could see the love he had for the Element of Kindness in his eyes. “Now get going my young sower of Chaos, before we both start crying.”

We separated, and I took quick stock of myself, settling all my new gear into place and checking it over. Everything seemed in place and I nodded my readiness to Discord as I settled myself into the starting blocks opposite a wall of the room that had a big bullseye painted on it.

Discord had a sense of humour, but no sense of taste.

“Courier departing!” announced one of the Departure Room ponies, who pulled down a ginormous switch that looked like it belonged in a Frankenstein movie. “Charging… ready in 3… 2… 1… GO!”

On “Go” I burst out of the starting blocks with everything I had and immediately felt the old familiar tingle of magic over my skin and fur. I accelerated over the scant length of the room in less time than it takes to read a line of text, the wall looming large before me. I felt a split second of fear that maybe something would go wrong, that maybe I was about to splatter myself against the bullseye, but a blink of time later a cold flush washed over me as I passed through the wall, slipping into the space between spaces.

There is no real name for where I was. During my time being laid up I’d managed to borrow a few books from Princess Twilight and do some reading. The name for where I was varied on the culture and the level of technology of whoever was trying to describe it.

Terms like ‘interspace’ or ‘dimensional vortex’ were interspersed with ‘ether’ and ‘spirit realm’ equally. I’d asked the Princess about it once and she called it a “Reinmaneian Manifold of Non-Euclopian Space” and then gone on to talk with words and terms that only Gandalf or Einstein would have had a chance of understanding.

Me, I called it the “Space Between Spaces”, and I thought it was a funky and exotic term that was way better than whatever the fuck a “manifold” was when it came to space anyway.

I galloped along, not because my hooves were moving against anything, but because movement here was more a matter of intent and will than anything else. Moving my legs gave my mind the expectation that I would be moving, so move I did. I thought I was moving, therefore I was.

One of the other things I loved about this space was how flat out beautiful it was. The whole of the cosmos was laid out before me in a rich dark blue, with various abstract concepts and thoughts made manifest drifted by in various lighter shades of blue. Equations a hundred feet high drifted by as I galloped on past. Clocks and timepieces orbited planets and stars in equal measure with the outlines of eldritch abominations.

It was enough to drive a person mad, which was one of the big reasons why I was one of only a handful of couriers for the Pony Express. A lot of folks just didn’t have a mind flexible enough to cope with seeing all of this insanity at once. As for me, I just galloped along, enjoying the scenery and letting the magic in Moondancer’s horseshoes guide me toward my destination.

Which soon enough became apparent as I felt myself banking toward a long swirling tube of energies that seemed to go on forever, and in a strange way, it even seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at once. The tube grew closer and I braced for impact with it, expecting to pop out on another world once I crossed that energetic border.

To my surprise however, I passed cleanly through the wall and found myself charging along down the tube, which from the inside was clearly some sort of swirling energy vortex. I could feel the guidance from my horseshoes peter out, and I paused in my journey, unsure of where to go next.

It was pretty obvious I was supposed to be inside this pipe, but there was nothing around here to go to. There was a sort of gentle direction to the “feel” of the space I was in so that gave me two basic directions. I could either travel “up” against the current, or go “down” with it.

I was still mentally flipping a coin about which way to go when something blew past me, sending me ass over teakettle back toward the outer wall of the maelstrom. I managed to stabilize myself just in time to catch a glimpse of the thing as it hurtled onward. Just before it zoomed out of sight I saw a blue, rectangular box with a light on top, spinning merrily as it traveled through time and space.

“Tally Ho!” I called out, and bent myself in pursuit of the object, which in truth could be only one thing.

There was only one craft in all of time, space, and imagination that looked and moved like that. The Type 40 TARDIS that belonged to the Time Lord known as, “The Doctor.”

I’d seen enough Doctor Who to know that what looked like a simple call box was actually a massive craft with power and weaponry to dwarf most star fleets to insignificance. The TARDIS was a living ship that loved and cared for those who rode inside of her, and more than once she had worked miracles to save the being who had stolen her from the tedium of boredom and the slow decay of obsolescence.

Horses might be fast, but they’ve got nothing on a pony when he or she decides it’s time to boogie, and boogie I did, with my legs blurring as fast as I could make them move as I raced down the time vortex in pursuit. It was a following chase, and my quarry knew their ground well; but I was on a mission and I had magic on my side, so it only took me a few minutes to pull within sight of the TARDIS.

As I drew even closer, I remembered that getting into the TARDIS was easier said than done, but the magic on my shoes had gotten me this far so I decided to bull straight in and see if I could pass through the last barrier between me and my destination.

In hindsight, I probably should have knocked on the door instead.

I leapt forward the last remaining distance, enchanted horseshoes to the fore, and as I made contact with the azure exterior there was a blinding flash of light. I felt myself pass through something and my blinded eyes were somehow given a split second vision of not a blue box, but a vast city in space that was both ancient and young, terrible yet kind. My mind quivered at the touch of a truly alien intelligence that seemed to find my presence… annoying.

All of those feelings were immediately followed by a sensation of impact as I ran into something solid and unyielding, and found myself piled in a heap against a white ceramic looking wall was that was covered with round hollows arranged in a hexagonal pattern.

“Ow,” I said, rubbing my abused nose as I got up and started shaking off my rather poor landing. “Ow.”

I did a quick check of the bags attached to my harness as I got my bearings. Everything seemed to be in fine shape, and nothing had spilled or fallen out into the corridor I found myself in. The passageway was long and white, with a featureless door on each end about thirty or so feet away, so with nothing to choose from I mentally flipped a coin and headed towards one.

“Okay, let’s see what’s behind door number one,” I said to no one, as I arrived at the portal and heaved the door towards myself using a recessed pull bar that was only visible up close.

The door swung open easily and I was about to step forward when two things stopped me cold. The first was a repetitive deep “bong” sound, from some sort of alarm. The second thing was the massive metal man who suddenly appeared in my path. I looked up, and up, and up at what had to be about seven feet worth of silvery bargain basement Iron Man.

The blocky helmet looked down at me with eyes of abyssal black and said, “Inferior creature, you will be deleted.”

Momma Allens didn’t raise no dummies, no sir. So I was already initiating my patented ‘Get the Hell Out of Here’ maneuver of running like fuck in the other direction, when Discount Iron Man raised his weapon and opened fire.

Blaster fire wanged off the walls on either side of me as I made tracks back the way I came, arriving at the other corridor door in about half a second flat. Thankfully, nothing was on the other side of the second door as I opened it and charged through with the high tech knight clomping along in pursuit.

What followed was a lively chase through the corridors of the TARDIS with the alarm bong ringing in counterpoint to the clatter of my horseshoes along the floor. I was starting to gain some ground when a door opened to reveal another metal being that absolutely no one with any knowledge of science fiction would fail to recognize.

“EXTERMINATE!” screeched the Dalek, sending me ass over teakettle back the way I came. Straight back toward where the Cyberman was.

Panic rose in my mind, but something in my mind twitched as I realized I had remembered the right name for the Dollar General Iron Man. Panic that grew as the Cyberman came through the last door I had passed, trapping me between deletion and extermination.

“DELETE!”

“EXTERMINATE!”

“WAIT!” I yelled back, holding up a hoof in either direction to try to forestall the approach of my executioners. “I surrender!”

“Daleks do not accept surrender,” growled the bumpy pepper-pot.

“Deletion is the fate of all inferior beings,” quipped the Cyberman.

“Please! I’m just here to make a pick-up,” I begged, feeling that alien regard on me once more, and I realized who was really in charge around here. “I’m sorry! I should have knocked on the door. Just take me to the Doctor. Please!”

Both alien killers raised their weapons and I closed my eyes, waiting for the last searing blast that would take me to wherever I was going to go in the afterlife. But a breath later nothing had happened, even that deep reverberating gong stopped ringing and I cracked open my eyes and risked a look.

The corridor was empty except for a white disk that was floating about six feet up in the air. It looked like an oversized frisbee and was probably some sort of drone.

“Look, I’m really sorry,” I repeated, facing the hovering thing. “Next time I’ll knock, but if you just take me to the Doctor, I’ll just pick up the package he has for Celestia and I’ll be on my way.”

The drone shifted back and forth for a few seconds, seeming to consider my words, before something descended from it on a line of silver wire and I groaned in recognition at the simple halter muzzle.

“Fine, fine, I guess I deserve that,” I replied, and grabbing the headgear I pushed my nose through the front circle and settled the head strap behind my head.

As expected the loops immediately tightened up, forcing my muzzle all the way through the front loop, which cinched down to keep my mouth closed whether I wanted to open it or not.

“Erv curf,” I complained, and a quick burst of electricity rebuked me, followed by a sharper one as a reflexive second complaint burst out of me.

‘Quiet,’ appeared on the backside of the drone, where I could see it, and I got the message pretty quick. The damn thing wasn’t just a muzzle, it was some sort of shock muzzle. So when the word ‘Follow’ appeared on the thing, I made damn sure to obey.

I guess the thing got bored of my obedience cause after awhile the words ‘Head up’ appeared on the drone pulling along my lead, and from that point on every attempt I made to lower my head or look to the side was rewarded with a nice little jolt. Not enough to hurt, but enough to let me know that it could hurt me if it wanted to.

‘Proud Walk,’ came next, and it took me several tries to get what the drone wanted me to do, and I found myself forced into a high-stepping walk that had a whole lot of leg motion going on for not a whole lot of distance covered.

It wasn’t until ‘Tail High’ was flashed to me that I realized what the hell was going on. The damn thing was actually some sort of automated walker for training show ponies or similar, and lucky me, I was being trained to walk like I was competing in a show.

I was tempted to fight it, or at least snark back, but the thing had made it pretty clear what the rules were and truth be told I was sort of seeing things from the perspective of the TARDIS, who I was 99% sure was in charge of the thing. This was her way of getting back at the uppity beast that had crashed in on her in the middle of the time vortex.

So, I let myself be led around like a show pony until at long last, we reached the control room. Despite keeping my head up and my eyes toward the drone as required, I still could make out much of the organic interior of the room, with its tree-like supports and arched brass dome.

“Doctor,” called out a female voice, that I dared not turn my head towards. “I didn’t know you had any pets.”

“Sorry what, Martha? I’m just having a look at the energy levels,” replied a male voice with a mild Scottish accent.

“Oh, let’s have a look at you then,” the woman said, and the drone’s sign flashed, ‘Stand for Inspection.’

So I held still as I felt hands come in contact with me, running all over my body and tracing the lines of my spine and legs in what felt like a clinical manner.. Each of my legs were lifted in turn and the range of motion in each of my joints were explored, stopping immediately whenever I made a noise of discomfort. A noise which thankfully went unpunished by the muzzle.

“Are you for real?” the woman asked, moving into view and tilting my chin up to look into my eyes. She was a lovely woman of color with wide and curious eyes under night black hair held up in a tight ponytail. “There is no way you can be real. Nothing has that kind of flexibility in all of its leg joints. Nothing.”

I tried to mutter something, but this time the muzzle did kick in; letting me know that while involuntary noises were allowed, deliberate ones were not.

“Hang on. Did that thing just shock you?” the woman asked, indignation in her voice as she noticed my reaction to the admittedly low-powered zap. “Doctor! Why the hell do you have your pet in a shock collar?”

“Eh Martha?” asked the male voice, who I assumed to be the Doctor. “What?”

“Why, do you have, your pet, in a barbaric thing like a shock collar?” the woman, whose name was apparently Martha, asked again with increasing anger in her voice.

“First of all Martha, I don’t have any pets,” began the Doctor, and I could hear the rattling of something being put away. “And secondly, if I did, I certainly wouldn’t keep them in a…. Oh.”

“Right, so explain this… this fake pony pet you have here, and why it’s fitted with a shock collar,” Martha demanded, extending a hand towards me and I couldn’t help but smile. This woman had never met me before this very moment and here she was, instantly leaping to my defence.

“Wellll, first off, that’s an Osumaran training muzzle she’s wearing. The Osumaran’s are very big on proper deportment for their fashion models,” answered the man, moving into view. He was a lean fellow with a shock of wild brown hair over dark eyes and wearing a blue suit with red running shoes, of all things.

“Fashion models?” Martha fired back, standing up to confront the Doctor. “What are these Osumaran’s, some kind of space horse abusers?”

“Actually,” the Doctor replied, rubbing the back of his head and grimacing slightly, “they are a race of space horses.”

“What?” Martha asked, head rocking back in surprise. “Space horses? Real, actual space horses?”

“Oh yes, highly intelligent too,” the Doctor replied. “Which makes me wonder why a member of Equus Sapiens Equester is wearing one of their filly training muzzles.”

“I don’t know that genus,” Martha admitted.

“Equestrian pony,” explained the Doctor, fishing out a small shining wand that I recognized from the pocket of his suit jacket. “The Osumaran’s fit prospective models with these as fillies to teach them how to stand and walk and so on. I mean, you’ve seen fashion models on Earth. You can’t tell me that the way any of them move is natural.”

“It still doesn’t excuse this poor thing getting zapped every time she doesn’t obey,” Martha insisted as the sonic screwdriver whirred as the Doctor passed it over me.

“Oh these are some interesting readings. Artron energy? Dynamic quantum level bio-resequencing? Lingering signs of paradox destabilization?” muttered the Doctor in rapid succession, utterly fascinated by what he was seeing.

“Doctor, are you going to get this inhumane thing off him or do I have to do it?” Martha demanded, regaining the Doctor’s attention.

“Oh, right. Sorry about that,” he said, and the sonic screwdriver whirred again and a moment later the muzzle popped off of me and was immediately withdrawn into the drone, which moved away to a discreet distance.

“Mmhm, thanks,” I said, stretching my jaws a bit, and moving them around after their period of enforced immobility.

“It talks!” Martha exclaimed, swiftly followed by, “I mean, you talk.”

“Heh, all good Ma’am,” I assured her. “James Allens, Equestrian Pony Express.”

“Hello James,” said the Doctor, reaching out and shaking a forehoof. “I’m the Doctor, and this is Martha Jones, and how did you get on board my TARDIS in mid flight?”

“With these,” I said, giving the Doctor a closer look at one of my shoes. “Enchanted horseshoes, guaranteed to pierce any dimensional barrier between me and my destination.”

“Ah, so you’re why the TARDIS was unhappy earlier,” commented the Doctor, with a slightly disapproving look.

“Yeah, that’s my bad. I should have knocked on the door instead of just bulling my way on through. Sorry,” I replied, putting on my best apologetic face. “I gotta say, it really scared the crap out of me having a cyberman and a dalek chase me through the TARDIS.”

“WHAT?” shouted Martha. “Doctor, are we in danger? Is there—”

“Nothing to worry about,” the Doctor smoothly interrupted. “Just time echoes that the TARDIS used to defend herself with. I suspect she viewed young James here as something of an unwelcome intruder.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” I added sheepishly. “It’s why I didn’t really complain about that muzzle either. Figured I deserved it for bashing my way in.”

“That’s no excuse to let yourself be abused,” Martha said, in a much milder tone. I could tell she was realizing there was a lot going on she didn’t know about, so she was stating her position but leaving it open enough to be corrected.

“Well, I’m an earth pony and between that and my fur, I barely felt anything,” I replied, sticking my tongue out at the drone just ‘cause it felt good.

“Plus it helps that you’re a big ball of… everything,” added the Doctor. “You know you read as pony and human, male and female both.”

“That’s because I am, er was, whatever,” I said, completely confusing both the Doctor and Martha.

“Captain Jack would love to meet you, I bet,” mused the Time Lord.

“I bet,” I laughed, thinking of the omnisexual Time Agent. “Anyway, as for the reason I’m here.”

“Yeah, why are you here?” Martha asked, and I could see that incredible curiosity fire up again.

“I’m here to pick up a package,” I said, and both the humans in the room looked at each in confusion. “For Princess Celestia. Some tea, I think?”

“Oh! Oh right! Pentraxian Basimato. I’d forgotten all about it,” exclaimed the Doctor, his face lighting up and he bounded upwards, filled with energy. “I’ll be right back.”

The Doctor got all of about three steps before he did a sudden U-turn towards the command console, and flipped several switches before hustling off.

“So… James, was it?” Martha asked, kneeling down so she could look me eye to eye. “Sorry about the animal comment earlier.”

“Ah, it’s all good,” I assured her, waving a hoof at her. “At least you didn’t try to ride me!”

“Oh God, no,” laughed the woman. “I’d have squashed you.”

“Here we go then,” called the Doctor, dashing back into the room with a large and fragrant smelling box under one arm. “Pentraxian Basimato. One of the rarest teas in the universe.”

“What makes it so rare?” Martha asked.

“Pentrax Prime is a planet that exists in a stable gravity pocket near a black hole,” the Doctor answered. “Life there has evolved to take advantage of its unique blend of radiation and gravitational shifts. Making any tea leaves grown there equally unique. Tell Celestia I’ll see her and her sister for tea soon.”

“Will do,” I replied, tucking the package into one of the larger bags on my harness.

“We’re going to be landing in Cardiff shortly, did you want to hop off there?” the Doctor asked, going back and checking the controls.

“Cardiff, why are we stopping there?” Martha inquired, leaving me to lean over the controls as well.

“Well, the TARDIS used a fair bit of energy generating those time echoes to chase James around a bit,” replied the Doctor. “Cardiff is built on a rift in time and space, just like California and the San Andreas fault. The rift bleeds energy. Every now and then I have to stop, open up the engines, let them absorb the energy and use it as fuel.”

“So it’s a pit stop!” Martha exclaimed in understanding.

“Exactly,” said the Doctor, approvingly. “Should only take about twenty seconds. Enough time for our pony passenger to hop off.”

“Not my Earth,” I commented, shaking my head. “Be better if I jump out mid-flight, but I’ll use the door this time.”

“Huh,” noted the Doctor, as he checking his instruments when the sounds of the TARDIS came to an abrupt halt half a minute later. “The rift’s been active.”

“Hang on,” objected Martha. “Wasn’t there an earthquake in Cardiff a couple of years ago?”

“Bit of trouble with the Slitheen,” replied the Time Lord, and I started to get a heavy feeling of deja vu. I’d seen this moment on TV, but damned if I could remember what came next.

“Long time ago,” continued the Doctor, looking up in reflection. “Lifetimes. I was a different man back then.”

“Hey Doctor, you might want to—” I tried to interject, before the Doctor bounced back to attention at an indicator.

“There we go, all powered up,” declared the Time Lord, throwing various switches that started the TARDIS up again. The wheezing and groaning sound that every Whovian knew and loved filled the space. “And we’re off!”

No sooner had the words come out of his mouth when a mighty crash shook the TARDIS and everything lurched to one side then the other, as the mighty craft began to battle some invisible force.

“What’s wrong?”yelled Martha, grabbing onto a console rail and me, as I started to tumble on by.

“I don’t know, but we’re accelerating,” replied the Doctor, looking at his controls in astonishment. “Destination is set for the year five billion, five trillion… One hundred trillion!”

“What comes then?” Martha asked, clutching both the railing and me in desperation.

“The end of the universe,” gasped the Doctor, his eyes suddenly focusing on me. “But at least I can get you out of here.”

“No, wait. It’s cool,” I tried to gasp out.

“Sorry, no time,” stated the Doctor, aiming his screwdriver at me and I heard the words “Emergency teleport” as the device whirred once more and the walls of the TARDIS faded around me, to be replaced by the swirling energies of the time vortex.

I had just enough time to see the blue box rocket out of sight, and I was honestly shocked to catch a glimpse of a man clinging to its exterior for dear life. His cry of “DOCTOOOOOOOOOORRRR” echoed for long seconds even after both man and machine disappeared into the distance, and it gave me the final piece of the puzzle.

The man was the earlier mentioned Captain Jack Harkness, and his grabbing hold of the TARDIS was sending all of them to Utopia, at a time just before the final heat death of the universe. I considered heading after them. I knew where they were going and I was pretty sure I could probably use the time vortex to get me there.

But that wasn’t my job. My job was to pick up and deliver packages, and sow a little chaos into the multiverse as I did so. Pushing back that final death of all things just a little more with each trip.

“Just remember Doctor,” I said into the whirling ether, as I turned for home. “You. Are. Not. Alone.”

And neither was I.

Author's Note

James is a good courier, but he really tends to act first and think later. Also, a couple of links from Dr. Who :

Osumarans

On his list of future deliveries, James currently has:

Normandy SR-2
Tyson Rios
Hogwarts
John-117
The Winchester brothers

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Chapter 3: S.U.A.E.I

My legs pounded out a rhythm as I charged along towards my next destination. Generally I only did one run a day, but I’d been cooped up for weeks and the chance to really stretch my legs had been too good to resist. Although when I’d heard what my destination was going to be I had really wanted to pilot an actual ship instead…

“Discord, I’m going to an actual space station,” I’d stated, trying to make my case to the boss. “I’d cause way less of a commotion if I went there in an actual spaceship.”

“You just want to do trench runs,” snorted my boss. Damn draconequus knew me well.

“I mean yeah, who wouldn’t,” I replied, chuckling. “But seriously, I’m headed to an O’Neill cylinder. That sucker is rotating at God’s own speed, at least on the outer edge. Way safer, and easier, for me to fly a ship in through the docking port.”

“Sorry James,” Discord replied, and though he was denying me I could still see he liked the idea. “The idea of the Pony Express is to introduce a little extra chaos to a universe. Not throw the entire plate of spaghetti at it. The horseshoes I gave you will land you there just fine.”

“Fine,” I huffed, with an eloquent roll of my eyes. “What’s the package and who on the station is it going to?”

Discord told me and it was a full minute before my belly laughs stopped echoing down the halls of the Pony Express building.

“Oh dear sweet baby Buddha on a rocket powered pogo stick,” I laughed, holding my aching sides. “Oh Discord, you bastard. He’s gonna love it!”

That had been a subjective hour or so ago and my legs were just starting to feel that nice burn when I got the sense that my destination was approaching. The interdimensional space I traveled through didn’t have road signs, but I always did have a good sense of when I was ready to pop back out in the “real” world again.

Sure enough, about a minute later I saw the five mile long shadow of the mighty station and I realized I wasn’t exactly sure where I should try to land. I knew where the command center was, but landing there would cause everyone to absolutely freak the fuck out. I knew roughly where the fusion reactors were, and planned to stay well away from those, but that still left around thirty square miles to try to pick a landing at.

The station began to loom close, and I couldn’t stop and go around without risking popping into that reality prematurely; and without a spacesuit I’d definitely be “popping” if that happened. Taking a deep breath I picked a spot midway between what I thought was the command area and the set of big, honking solar panels the place had sticking out at right angles from the station.

“Discord, if this screws up Derpy is gonna take a strip off both our hides,” I said to no one in particular, as I bore in and used my earth pony magic to part the dimensional wall just inside the station itself.

In the next moment, I realized one of the other reasons I had been Discord’s first recruit to his little chaos spreading scheme. My forward momentum, combined with rotational speed of the station, did exactly what I’d been afraid it would. Namely, utterly messing up any possibility of a nice, safe and sane landing and turning me into a cannonball of chaos.

Instead of touching down in a nice corridor somewhere, with lots of room to slow down from my ground eating canter, I was instead treated to a tumbling kaleidoscope of light and dark as my materialization spun me across various rooms and passageways in the station. Some lit, some not, some occupied, some not, and I could hear various cries of surprise and outrage as I barrelled past several blurs of people.

I finally came to rest in a soft pile of something, on my back with my ass way up above my spinning head.

“Londo?” a feminine voice asked, “Is that— oh!”

I felt a slim arm wrap around my barrel, and a moment later I was pulled up against a very well developed chest.

“Londo, I didn’t know you had pets!” the woman exclaimed, running her hands across my fur and stroking my mane, while my mind struggled to catch up with everything. “She’s so soft! What is she?”

Ponies are strong, proud creatures, capable of great fortitude and mental toughness that can carry them through the darkest times, but they… er, we, are also extremely vulnerable in other ways.

Such as having our bellies rubbed and our ears scratched. My brain had almost finished its reboot cycle when a delicate hand started scritching right behind my ear, sending my conscious mind into a happy fugue state.

“What the devil are you talking about, Cassandra?” asked a deep male voice, whose name I knew but didn’t have the brain power to recall just then. “I don’t have any pets. Except for Vir, of course. Though he is much more a moon-faced assassin of joy than a pet.”

“Well, this isn’t a doll, or a stuffed toy,” demanded the woman, now using her other hand to seal my fate by rubbing my belly.

“Lights!” commanded the male voice, and I was instantly blinded by intense radiance. From the cries of dismay in the room, I wasn’t the only one who thought things were a little too bright.

“Computer, reduce illumination to thirty percent standard,” ordered the male voice, sighing in satisfaction as things shifted from utterly blinding to something akin to a moonlit night. The burst of radiance had also had the effect of causing the woman to stop pushing my “off” buttons while clearing my head at the same time, giving me the chance to scoot a short distance away.

“Great Maker, what is that?” asked a stoutly built man in a white dressing gown, an outstretched finger pointing at me.

“I don’t know, but it’s very cute,” pouted the woman, snatching me back up against her ample, and naked, bosom.

“Cassandra, put the creature down and back away from it,” said the man, his magnificent crest of black hair bobbing as he stepped over to a nearby desk to pull out what looked like a small handgun.

“Don’t you dare hurt it,” the woman, named Cassandra apparently, shot back in a wheedling tone. “I want one.”

“Ack!” I gasped, as the woman pulled me in even tighter. “Air!”

That did it. Cassandra dropped me and scampered out of the bed like I was red hot.

“It talks!” she yelled, pointing at me as she joined the barely dressed Londo.

“Sorry to drop in unannounced, Mr. Ambassador,” I wheezed, clearing my throat before adding, “I screwed up my entry vector and crash landed in your quarters. My apologies.”

“How do you know me?” Londo asked, lowering his weapon slightly. “My apologies as well, but I am not familiar with your species.”

“Everyone knows Londo Mollari, Ambassador of the Centauri Republic,” I replied, making sure to pronounce it “tar-e” as opposed to “tor-e” as most humans did. Never mind that I used to be human, but from what I remembered of Babylon 5, Londo was never immune to flattery, praise, or recognition of his star nation as a valid player in interstellar affairs.

“My name is James Allens, resident of the Diarchy of Equestria and currently working for its courier service,” I continued, hoping to extricate myself as cleanly as possible from the minor pickle I was in.

On the plus side, I had landed in Green Sector, which was the station’s diplomatic core. On the down side, I had also landed amongst multiple aliens who could be very alien. The silver lining was, it also meant there was lots of security in the area, the problem was that I had to get out of Londo’s quarters before I could get ahold of them.

“Diarchy of Equestria? Can’t say that I’ve heard of it,” Londo replied, frowning. “Are you here to present diplomatic credentials to the League of Non-Aligned Worlds? Commander Sheridan should have notified me.”

“He didn’t know I was coming,” I admitted, getting up onto my hooves a little unsteadily on the soft bed and making sure my saddlebags were still in place. “I’m just here to deliver a package and then I’m off.”

“I see… “ Londo replied, his voice trailing off.

A lot of people viewed Mollari as a lightweight in diplomatic affairs. A braggart determined to end his days with wine, women, and song, but I’d seen the show. I knew that behind the facade that Londo showed the universe, there was the shrewd and calculating mind of a grandmaster of the game. Someone who had both the will to play and the ruthlessness to sacrifice whatever it took to ensure his Republic was returned to its former glory.

“Give me a moment,” Londo said after a moment or two, gesturing for me to stay put, while he tucked away his weapon. “How large is this ‘Diarchy of Equestria’, of yours?”

“It’s just a single star system,” I admitted, trying to put Equestria in terms he could relate to. “But as you can see, ponies are capable of travelling far and wide.”

“Really?” Londo commented, motioning his companion back to the bed. She hesitated a bit before approaching me again, but seemed to get over it. “What sort of technology does your ship use?”

“Ship?” I laughed, as Cassandra’s hand settled gently on my withers again. I didn’t mind. As long as she was close to me it was very unlikely Londo was going to reconsider putting his gun away. “I mean, a ship would have been nice, but I didn’t need one to get here.”

“Your species does not require spaceships?” Londo asked, affably. “Impressive. Either way, it must have taken you a while to get here. Would you like something to eat?”

“Thanks, but I had a pretty good lunch before leaving, and if I can find my recipient quickly enough, I should be home in time for dinner,” I answered, my own mind working now. What was Londo up to?

“You are going to reach your homeworld, from Babylon 5, in time for dinner?” Londo half asked, half stated, before adding, “On behalf of the Centauri Republic, I would like to open diplomatic relations with your people. Perhaps a trade agreement?”

Cassandra’s hand was stroking the forequarters of my back. It wasn’t as good as ear scritches, but it was nice, though not nice enough to keep me from realizing what Londo was doing. The sly bugger was pumping me for information, AND trying to get a lock on an apparently new technology for space travel from a previously unknown species.

“Sir, with all due respect, I’m just a delivery pony,” I replied, sliding out from under Cassandra’s hand to land lightly on the floor, deck… whatever.

“At least allow me to send a diplomatic note back with you,” Londo begged. “You did say you were a courier, no?”

“No, I mean yes. I mean… I guess that would be okay,” I said, a little confused. Though it did sort of make sense. Londo was a diplomat after all, and even if Celestia and Luna never would be actually having relations with the Centauri, it would make Londo happy and having somewhere I could have a pit stop could be handy.

“Excellent!” Londo declared, before punching a button on a console and yelling, “Vir! Get in here! Bring the Seal of the Centaurum with you!”

“Londo,” complained a tired voice from the other end. “I’m not bringing in the Seal just so you can impress your date.”

“I am entertaining a new species!” Londo shot back, puffing out his chest. “The Great Maker has seen fit to bless the Centauri with a new friend.”

Well, damn. After that, there was no way I could just up and leave. Twilight would have my head if I screwed up the chance for new friendships for ponykind. I mean, in my heart of hearts, I was still human, but pretty much the rest of me was all pony. Which meant cultivating capital ‘F’ friendship.

Less than a minute later another half dressed Centauri male rushed into the room, an individual I recognized from the show as Vir Cotto, Londo’s very put upon assistant. As the two of them began to hammer out a note for me to carry back to the Princesses, I felt Cassandra’s hand toying with my mane again.

“Isn’t that just like men?” she asked, sliding down to the floor so she could sit beside me. “They shower us with gifts and flattery, right up until the next shiny toy shows up and then they ignore us.”

“Sorry about that,” I replied, leaning into her a bit with an unspoken offer of comfort. It wasn’t her fault I’d disrupted her evening.

“It’s okay, I got paid up front,” Cassandra replied, ruffling my mane a bit. “Plus I got to meet you, you little cutie.”

I blushed, and she and I sat like that for several minutes while Londo and Vir debated on the correct language to use, and the back and forth between the two was fun to watch. Londo would say he was going to use a phrase, Vir would make a usually common sense objection, then Londo would overrule him, followed by Londo restating the phrase, often following some or all of Vir’s objection.

The pair of them were just printing off a hardcopy of the finished note, when the door to the room chimed.

“Londo, it’s station security,” called a voice through an intercom. “We’ve received a report of an unknown species in your stateroom and the station’s internal sensors confirm it. Please let us in.”

“No need, Mr. Allan,” Londo replied, his eyes shooting over to Cassandra, who had a very smug look on her face. “I am in the middle of a diplomatic session on behalf of the Centauri Republic, and I believe the station charter states that I can prohibit entry to my stateroom as it constitutes a legal enclave of the Republic.”

“Except in matters of station safe— Uh…” Allan’s voice paused. “Ambassador Kosh? What are you doing here?”

The door quite literally disappeared with a “whooshing” sound and the mottled green and black encounter suit of the Vorlon ambassador filled the space where the door had been.

“There is… an Agent of Chaos here,” he stated simply, and as everyone looked on in shock something invisible grabbed onto my throat and lifted me into the air. “You… should not be here.”

“Just… doing my job!” I gasped out, struggling uselessly against Kosh’s telekinetic grip.

“Kosh! Put it down. We can handle things,” the fellow in charge of the security detail said, his gaze flipping back and forth between the two of us.

“We have things well in hand,” Molari added, drawing himself up as well as he could, still in his dressing gown. “Kosh, please put the pony down.”

“He should not be here,” was all Kosh said, and I felt his grip tighten around my throat, cutting off my air.

“Put the pony down now, Ambassador!” Allans demanded, taking aim at the Vorlon, never mind that Kosh could probably melt everyone down to their shoes if he really wanted to.

Me, I just struggled as much as I could, fighting for air. Things were starting to look bad when I felt a hand shove something into one of my saddlebags.

“There!” Londo stated, stepping back from me. “The pony is now carrying a diplomatic note from the Centauri Republic to the Diarchy of Equestria. As such she is now a diplomatic courier and her person is sacrosanct under the Babylon Treaty. I demand you release her!”

Kosh waited for a moment longer before letting me go.

I was about to protest my manhandling… Vorlon-handling? By Kosh, when I realized why he was so pissed about me. Kosh was a Vorlon, basically a guardian of Order, and I worked for literally the Lord of Chaos. So while I might not be in league with the Shadows, or doing anything evil like what Morden was likely up to at that very moment, I was still what Kosh had accused me of being. Specifically, an agent of chaos. Something that was anathema to him.

“Look, let me make my delivery in peace, and I’ll be on my way,” I said, a bit roughly. “I’ll even do it with station security present so there won’t be any shenanigans.”

“Do not return,” Kosh warned, turning and ghosting back down the corridor as everyone scrambled to get out of his way.

“Thanks,” I said, looking back at Mollari. From somewhere he’d managed to shrug into a black jacket covered in various bits of gold and silver. What they meant, I had no idea, but a couple of them looked like awards and such.

“Just let your rulers know that their couriers will be safe under Centauri protection,” Londo beamed back. The man was insufferable, but he’d done me a solid favor.

“Excuse me… uh, Ma’am?” the head of the security detail interjected, hesitantly. “If you could come with us, the Commander would like a word with you.”

“I’d kinda hoped to avoid that, but I guess at this point being quiet and discreet is right out the airlock,” I sighed, stepping up to the man, who had “Allan” on his nametag. “Take me to your leader, and if you could ask Mr. Garibaldi to join us I’d be grateful.”

“Garibaldi?” Allan asked, tilting his head in confusion. “Why?”

“He’s the recipient of the package I’m carrying.”

“...And that’s why I’m here and what I do,” I finished explaining to Commander Sheridan, who was shaking his head in wonder at the idea of a human turned stallion turned pregnant mare, flitting about the multiverse delivering packages.

“You honestly expect us to believe that all of this,” Ivanova shot back, waving her arms around to indicate all of the vast station around us, “and all of us, are part of some sort of entertainment program? That we aren’t real? That nothing we’ve done over the past year and change matters because we don’t really exist?”

“Whoa whoa whoa, there,” I cautioned, holding up a hoof to stop the fiery Russian. “We are all stories in the end. All of us, everywhere. The stories of our lives and times are part of existence, and sometimes the more powerful ones bleed through to other realms. To people and places who could never know our stories except as works of fiction.”

It was a good reply, I thought. One I’d practiced several times.

“As long as no one tries to stick me with some bearded hero type as a love interest,” Ivanova groused, and I had to hide a smile as the face of Marcus swam into my mind’s eye.

“Wait, so if we’re a story,” Sheridan said, a smile suffusing his face as he turned his attention from his second in command back to me. “You know how it all turns out! You know how we get through all of this. What’s going on at Z’ha’dum. What happened with President Clark. Nightwatch. All of it.”

“No,” I stated simply, and it hurt seeing the sudden pain that crossed Sheridan’s face. It was only there for a moment, but we were practically touching noses just then.

“Why not?” Sheridan begged. “What you know could save billions of lives! Even if the details are a little off, you telling us our story could change everything for the better!”

“What I know, is a version of your story,” I replied, as gently as I could. “The stories I know of Babylon 5 were written as a narrative. A visual novel, not a historical record. If I tell you the story I know, it could have you looking for the wrong things in the wrong places. Yes, it may be right about things, but it could also be very wrong.”

“But—” Sheridan began.

“But life in the universe exists because the universe is a certain way,” I continued, grimacing ruefully. “Your story is the way it is, because your universe is a certain way. My telling you my version of this place, would be like changing the mass of the proton. A small change, but one that would doom it as we know it.”

Sheridan nodded as what I was saying got through to him.

“So we’re on our own. No shortcuts,” he stated, pulling back a bit. “So, can we expect other couriers like you?”

“Probably, now that I’ve blazed the—” I began, before being interrupted myself by the bald headed countenance of one Michael Garibaldi, Head of Station Security.

“Hey, what’s up?” the powerfully built man asked, as he strode into the room. Garibaldi paused in shock for a moment as he spotted me, before his face broke into a wide grin. “Holy crap. An original fourth generation My Little Pony figure? And life sized too! Damn. Where did you get him from?”

“Her,” Sheridan replied, smiling. The command trio of the station loved nothing better than pulling fast ones on each other and all of them were able to think on their feet. I kept silent for the moment, letting Ivanova and Sheridan draw their friend in.

“You got me a mare? I mean how? The last series using life model decoys was pretty decent, but folks said the writing went downhill after season 9,” Garibaldi scooped me up, grunting a bit at the weight. “Damn, she feels totally lifelike. How did you guys even find out I used to have a collection of these?”

“Pleased to meet you too, Mr. Garibaldi,” I said, completely deadpan.

“Hey nice… wait a minute,” Garibaldi paused, still holding me under one arm, but running his other hand over my body. “It’s warm… and breathing? Holy Shit!”

Next thing I knew I was in Sheridan’s lap, where I’d landed after Garibaldi had reflexively flung me away, staring down the barrel of his now drawn weapon.

“Michael… “ Sheridan began, trying to head off the chief’s understandable reaction.

“First off, I’m real,” I said, being sure to make no sudden motions. “Secondly, I come in peace. Thirdly, on behalf of Discord and the Pony Express, I have a delivery for you.”

“You’re… real,” Garibaldi replied, looking around at the rest of the room. All he saw were his friends and coworkers smiling and nodding that yes, I was indeed real. “How?”

“Mr. Garibaldi,” I announced, stepping carefully off Sheridan’s lap. Leaping off might have had… unfortunate consequences. “The following is an exception from EarthForce regulation, paragraph forty-seven, subsection nineteen, clause nine ‘A’, under the index listing ‘S.U.A.E.I’. By the authority invested in me, by Discord, and as an official agent of the Pony Express, I have a package for you.”

“What?” Garibaldi asked, ever eloquent. Ivanova and Sheridan’s eyes had both lit up in anticipation as they immediately recognized my reference.

“I have a package for you,” I summarized, stepping back up to him. “Right saddlebag.”

Wordlessly, the big man opened up the flap and drew out a shoebox sized package. There was a flurry of motion and off came the wrapping, along with the top of the box.

“Is… is that what I think it is?” he asked, his eyes wide in wonder. “I can get anything that’s preserved or packaged. But this? Wow.”

“Micheal, what is it?” Sheridan asked, leaning forward.

“C’mon, spill,” Ivanova likewise demanded. “What did the pony get you?”

“Eggs. A dozen grade-A extra large eggs,” Garibaldi replied, lifting out the styrofoam container for everyone to see as tears shone in his eyes. “I haven’t seen a fresh egg in over two years. How?”

“Sometimes a little chaos is a good thing,” I answered, smiling enigmatically.

Author's Note

One of the best shows on television ever. Utterly ground breaking in its format and pioneering use of CGI, which to be fair, has not aged well.

The title of this chapter refers to a moment where Garibaldi complains about the food they have on the station and the response he is given is "EarthForce regulation, paragraph forty-seven, subsection nineteen, clause nine ‘A’, under the index listing ‘S.U.A.E.I’"

Shut Up And Eat It.

Chapter 4: Wayward Son

Long distance runners say that there’s a certain point where you don’t have to keep pushing your body anymore, where things just sort of run themselves and the conscious mind becomes free to enjoy the journey or think about things in general or even just drift off on the endorphins while the world slides on by.

I used to think that was several levels of idiocy, made up by people who were desperate to convince you that they weren’t idiots. But guess what?

They weren’t idiots.

When I woke up in the body of a pony, my mind didn’t know where all the new connections went or how they worked, and it took a few weeks of physical therapy for my mind and new body to get into sync. One of the things that helped with that was… running. One hoof in front of the other, trying not to fall on face or ass, as I worked out how to move in four wheel drive.

There were a few… more than a few faceplants, but before long walking moved up to trotting, trotting to cantering, and cantering into full out galloping. I began to understand what those runners were talking about as they watched the world slide on by.

If they could only see me now, cantering along through interdimensional space on a set of enchanted horseshoes and snickering at some of the symbology that my mind came up with, while trying to describe things that were beyond my comprehension as I zipped along through a space that no physical being had any right travelling through, never mind daydreaming about running while charging along at Hoof Factor Five.

“All right James,” I said to myself, as the destination of this run began to draw close. “The score stands at zero safe landings, and way too many crash landings, let’s see if we can change that.”

My course curved inward toward the universe that was my destination. A place where two brothers fought, as the Scripture said, “against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against the wicked forces in high places…”

I was pretty sure I knew what it was I had in my saddlebags for them, so they deserved my best effort in bringing it to them intact.

Plus, I loved their taste in music.

The destination swelled in my vision and I began to focus on the transition back into the, or at least a, real world, and for a moment I thought I’d nailed it as my hooves touched solid ground and my pony magic began to reach out and make contact with the ground around me. All I had to do was just extend my not being of the world just a little further…

Which is when a wall covered with a bunch of weird runes loomed up in front of me and acted like… a wall.

I don’t know how much later it was that I woke up again, with every part of my head and neck yelling at me that I’d done something stupid and ‘we would really appreciate an aspirin, or a bottle of Jack Daniels, or maybe both?’

Following this report from front end central, I also realized I was feeling a lot of pressure around my nose, muzzle, and the back of my head; which my slowly restarting brain managed to conclude that I had run into one of my archenemies, yet again. Cracking open my eyes and peering down the length of my snout I was rewarded with the confirmation that once again, someone had slapped a muzzle on yours truly.

“Frff,” I tried to say, which seemed harder than usual. My usual slow burn of annoyance at once again being treated like an animal instead of a sentient being was somewhat dulled by my confusion at being silenced more than usual. That is until I tried to move my tongue and discovered that this particular device also included a long something that both held my mouth open and my tongue down, reducing me to grunts and moans, at best.

Fully aware now, I realized what exactly it was that had been stuck in my mouth and it pissed me off. I get being treated as a wild animal. It’s annoying but a little understandable. I get being treated as a possibly dangerous unknown, which is why I tend not to get really angry at people who put a muzzle on me.

What really pissed me off right now was being treated as some kind of sex toy.

Bolting to my hooves, I also instantly discovered that whoever had stuck this gag in me had also buckled a collar around my neck, which had two chains leading from it into what looked like concrete spikes recently embedded into the floor on either side of my hooves, tethering me quite neatly in place inside a circle of what looked like either sugar, salt or maybe talcum powder.

At that point I pretty much lost it and started doing my best to break free through pure pony power, rearing, bucking and straining at the chains as hard as I could. A solid five minutes or so of effort had me sweating and panting as hard as I could through my nose, forcing me to calm down and work on a rational escape plan.

Step one, check surroundings. Where was I? Was anyone watching me? It was hard to tell as the spot I was… chained to was in the middle of a brilliantly lit circle of light in an otherwise dark area, the contrast made it hard for me to make out details but I was able to tell that I was roughly in the middle of brick walled room with a single entrance.

Wait, there were two entrances with one of them being vaguely pony shaped. Which explained a few things to me as I put two and two together to get five.

It was pretty clear that whatever those runes I’d seen at the last second had been some sort of magic. Just as clear as the smashed hole that had almost definitely been my entrance to somebody’s high security location, who had taken offense to me busting my way in. It didn’t make me any less angry about having a sex toy strapped into my mouth, but it did explain why. Sort of, at least.

Speaking of which, step two. Get this bloody thing out of my mouth and off of me in general.

My hooves told me that the collar around my neck was just as steely as the chains attached to it, but the… $#$% gag seemed to be of simple leather, with some metal buckles and the anger inducing chunk of rubber attached to its front panel. Which meant that it could probably be stretched and broken, with enough effort.

Effort I was more than willing to exercise, and over the next several minutes I did just that. Pulling and twisting at the thing until the tongue on one of the buckles finally bent just a bit and gave me the fraction of an inch of slack I needed to start pressuring other sections of the securing straps…

“I tell you, Sam, the thing punched right through the wall like it wasn’t even there. Wards and all,” a tall muscular man with dark sandy hair was saying to his companion, as they entered the room where I was being held.

“Son of a bitch,” said the man, spotting me working the last of the gag’s straps over my head and drawing what looked like a massive gun from his belt in response. “Don’t fucking move. Demon or not, I’ll fill you so full of holes even Crowley won’t be able to patch you back together.”

I froze at that, the last securing strap of the gag painfully folding down one of my ears. I wasn’t totally sure what a bullet would do to me here, but after Tamriel I wasn’t about to take any chances.

“Uh, Dean,” said the man’s companion, a taller, leaner version of the first man, and in that moment I recognized that I’d found Sam and Dean Winchester. Monster hunters extraordinaire and men who had no fear of man, beast, angel or devil. A lot of things fell into place at that moment.

“Dean, that’s a pony,” Sam told his brother, looking at me curiously. “A cartoon version of a pony.”

“It’s a demon,” Dean insisted, raising his gun a little higher. “Look at the damn wall it punched through. I was just lucky we had some stuff left over from that ‘Naughty Nights’ sales scam we pulled last month, or who the hell knows what it would be doing right now.”

Which explained where the collar, chains, and gag had come from, but I was still pissed as hell and so taking a chance, I pulled that last strap all the way past my ear and over my nose.

“I mean it!” Dean shouted, aiming right at my head. “These are holy silver bullets with witch killer in them and they will put you down.”

“Pthaw!” was my reply, as I finally spit the obnoxious length of shaped silicone out of my mouth. “Fucking pervert.”

“What?” was Dean’s witty response, blinking at my verbal shot.

“You heard me, you fucking pervert,” I replied, laying back down on the floor. I was angry as hell, but I wasn’t suicidal.

“Hey, you got no call—” Dean began, only for me to cut him off.

“A pregnant mare has an accident. Gets knocked out, and your first response is, ‘Oh boy, time to break out the bondage gear!’” was my angry retort. “What’s with you? You see a pair of teats and you decided that shoving a fake dick down my throat was the way to go? I mean, I always thought people like you were an urban legend. Like why sheep are supposed to be afraid of zippers.”

“Shut up,” Dean ordered, waving his gun in my general direction as my tirade broke his focus like a stepped on twig.

“Is that why you strapped that thing on me?” I yelled back. “Mares should be kept pregnant and silent? Is that it?”

“Uh…” was Dean’s witty response. Some part of me noted that Sam was desperately trying not to laugh and thoroughly enjoying his brother’s predicament.

“I mean, I get the salt, and I can even understand restraining me,” I said, rolling right along, and getting the tip of one hoof under the offending device’s shaft. “But this? Tell me exactly what purpose this served in keeping you safe from a pregnant pony less than half your size?”

I deliberately kicked the offending… muzzle, out of the circle of salt around me.

“Go ahead, explain this. Horse fucker,” I added, as a final verbal cherry on top.

Dean just stared at me, trying to marshal his thoughts as Sam just stood there with a hand over his mouth and shaking as he visibly fought down the urge to laugh at his brother.

“Uh, Sam,” Dean said at last. “A little help here.”

“I didn’t know you were into ponies,” was the muffled comment.

“Shut up,” was Dean’s reply, before turning his attention back to me. “So uh… what the hell are you?”

“He chains me to the floor, probably feels me up while I was out, and doesn’t know what I am?” I fired back, rolling my eyes. “Lord, give me strength.”

“I believe that’s where I come in,” said a new voice, and all three of us looked over to the door where a shorter man in a beige trench coat was standing. I hadn’t heard him walk in. None of us had from the looks of surprise on the brother’s faces. Looks that quickly changed to happiness and warm greetings.

“Cas. I am so glad you’re here right now,” Dean said, lowering his gun and stepping over to the newcomer. “This… pony thing, smashed into our safehouse here. Right through a wall covered in things that every book says is supposed to stop angels and demons both. Right through.”

“Yes,” replied the man gravely. “Father told me that an Outsider was coming.”

“An Outsider?” Dean asked, aiming his gun back at me while Sam just looked at me curiously. “What’s an Outsider? Do bullets kill it, or do we need something else.”

I’m not ashamed to say that I just stood there as the sheer power coming off this average looking man flattened my righteous indignation like a man stepping on an ant. I’d met Q, and beings who had enough power to call themselves ‘gods’ and make the title stick, but I’d never felt as overwhelmingly tiny in comparison as I did at that moment.

“Hello James,” the man said to me, stepping past Dean and going to one knee outside the circle of salt and looking me in the eyes. “Father said it would be polite for me to say ‘Hello’.”

“Hello,” I replied, looking into a pair of dark eyes that held an ocean of serenity and calm. “I’d uh… shake your hand, but I’m a little tied up at the moment.”

“Dean, may I?” Cas asked, and as he looked away from me I realized that this being could only be one individual.

Castiel, Angel of the Lord.

“Uh, sure thing Cas,” Dean responded, and both he and Sam hurried to sweep away the circle of salt around me.

“I know your purpose here,” Castiel said to me, and as he knelt beside me and placed a gentle hand on my withers all of the anger I’d had drained out of me, to be replaced by a tremendous sense of peace and good will. “But it would help my friends if they heard it directly from you.”

“I’m a courier,” I stated, as I stepped up to the two brothers, barely noticing that the chains holding me in place had fallen away at the angel’s touch. “I travel the multiverse on behalf of the Pony Express, delivering packages.”

“James, and the ponies like him work for a chaos entity who wants to see all that is grow and prosper,” Castiel explained, straightening up and continuing to lightly touch my mane with the tips of his fingers. I didn’t mind. Not one bit.

“Isn’t that sort of… well, wrong?” Sam asked, with a thoughtful expression. “Aren’t beings of chaos supposed to be, well, evil?”

“Some yes, but not all chaos is bad. Just as not all random things that occur are either bad or good. They are simply unexpected, and chaos that has been touched by the magic of friendship while still random, tends toward the good and steers away from the bad,” Castiel continued, focusing on Dean. “As for James himself, he’s an ‘Outsider’ because he is from outside our reality. To him, all of this is from a realm of fiction that he has either seen or read in the past.”

“I don’t feel very fictional,” Dean replied, with a snort, as he tucked his gun back into his waist. “Hang on a sec, you said ‘ponies like him’, and you keep calling him a dude, but he told us that he's a chick… well, a mare, and pregnant. How can he be both? Is it because he’s fictional to us, like we are to him?”

“It’s a good theory, but the truth is that It’s complicated,” Castiel stated, before I could explain. “But as with all acts of creation, I can assure you that love was involved. James, I believe you have something for my friends?”

“Oh, yeah. Right!” I said, and snapping back into focus I reached into my saddlebags to pull out the package I’d carried across the realms of improbability.

“If either of you will just sign, or otherwise indicate here that you received the package,” I said, extending my clipboard to Sam, who scribbled something on it before his brother took the large package off of me.

“What is it?” Dean asked me, his eyes alive with curiosity.

“Something of your father’s, apparently,” I replied, smiling as I saw the eyes of both men in the room go wide.

“Dad’s…” Sam whispered, running his fingers along the side of the box.

Dean looked at me briefly before ripping off the paper to reveal a battered brown, leatherette case whose lid was held in place with a spring loaded catch. A catch which the monster hunter wasted no time in pressing down so that he could lift the case’s lid.

“Oh my God,” Sam said, reverently. “Those… those can’t be.”

“Look at the titles, Sammy,” Dean replied, his eyes watering. “They are. I thought these were gone forever. Even Bobby thought they were gone.”

“What did the pony bring you?” Castiel asked, likely pretending that he didn’t already know.

“Mix tapes,” Dean answered, and he spun the case around to reveal two dozen cassette tapes, each in a hard plastic case and set in soft holders in the larger case. The sort of thing someone back in the 70s or 80s would have used when they wanted to take a lot of music with them on a trip.

“This… this is a piece of our Dad we thought was gone forever,” Sam said, getting down to put a hand on my shoulder. “Thank you. This means a lot to us.”

“James is only a little pony, so he can only carry small pieces of chaos with him,” Castiel stated, a small half-smile on his face. “But they can change worlds, when placed in the hands of the right people.”

“Sammy, we gotta see what we’ve got here,” Dean suggested, roughly wiping his eyes. “There’s a tape player in the workshop.”

Together, the brothers turned to go, but just as they did, Dean looked back at me, “Hey man, thanks.”

“Anytime,” I replied, waving a hoof and feeling the joy and satisfaction that comes with a job well done.

A minute later, the angel and I were alone in the room.

“Ready to go?” Castiel asked, looking down at me.

“Can I ask you a question?” I asked, looking up at the being with enough power to end a galaxy.

“You have free will. Of course you can ask me a question,” was the angel’s answer.

“What am I?”

“That’s a question that many ask themselves, and one to which few ever obtain a good answer. For you, the question is more complicated than it is for many, but if you truly wish to know, I can give you some of the answer. The rest you will have to work out for yourself.”

“Please,” I begged.

“You are a wife to Derpy, surrogate parent to Dinky, and mother-to-be. You are an agent of Chaos that helps hold back the Empty Night and someone who brings joy to many,” Castiel stated, holding up a hand to forestall me as he paused before continuing. “You are one of God’s children, and he loves you as he does all creatures under heaven and earth.”

I waited an extra moment to make sure he had finished speaking.

“I guess I’ll have to be satisfied with that,” I sighed, when nothing further came.

“It’s more than most get,” Castiel said, and I could feel his power gathering around him. “You should also know that when you reach the end of this life, you are one of the few that will be able to choose where they spend eternity. You may wish to give it some thought before then.”

“What?” I demanded, only to find myself back in the space between spaces. I guess Castiel had decided I’d asked enough questions and that it was time for me to go. Getting my bearings and letting my enchanted horseshoes get a grip on the aether around me I began the trip back home, lost in thought at the angel's final words.

It wasn’t until I was almost back that I realized that there was a faint jangling sound coming from around my neck and I paused to feel around to try to determine the cause. Sometimes things like to attach themselves to dimensional travelers like myself in an attempt to hitch a ride to a new universe, but you can imagine my surprise when my hoof touched the steel collar that Dean had locked onto me when he thought I was a demon.

The jangling sound was coming from the rings on the collar. Castiel hadn’t taken the collar off of me, he’d just severed the chains, and there was no way that wasn’t a deliberate choice on his part. That sneaky bugger had pranked me!

“Pffft,” I snorted, smiling at the stunt and strangely not feeling the same anger I’d felt at the gag, maybe ‘cause muzzles were annoying as hell. “Good one, Castiel.”

Reaching around to the back of my neck to undo the thing, my questing hooves found a lock instead, which meant that the thing was stuck on me until I found something to get it off with, which likely meant Derpy or Discord was going to see it and laugh their asses off.

“Next time, a certain angel is getting pantsed. Let’s see how you like walking around in nothing but a pair of boxers,” I declared, getting back into motion and preparing my entry vector back to Equestria. Castiel had fired the first shot in this pranking war, and I was determined to give as good as I got…

Author's Note

The final bits are a reference to a behind the scenes prank war that apparently went on during the filming of the show, with the various actors pulling fast ones on each other. One of the more memorable of which was Misha Collins, who plays Castiel, having to walk around in white boxer shorts because his clothes had been hidden in the ceiling of the sound stage.

A quick note about my commissions status. The next two months are currently booked up and the next free slot isn't until December. If that changes I'll put up a blog post regarding that.

My fumbling attempts to stream my late night gaming sessions continues. 11pm to 2am Pacific Daylight Time, Saturday through Tuesday nights. Currently doing a run of vanilla 7 Days to Die, version 1.1

Link to Stream