Equestria 1939 - Weird World War

Equestria 1939 - Weird World War
Endless Roads to the Future

“The empires of the future are the empires of the mind.”
— Winston Churchill, Speech to Harvard University, September 1943

“I think I have a cold, Nanna,” said Mane. “Maybe we should catch the next airship.”

“Mama’s got you.” Nanna produced a large kerchief and held it over her son’s nose. “Blow.”

“Mother!” The indignation was muffled, partially from his spouse laughing at his predicament, and also by his son alongside, raising his nose to get some attention from Granma Nanna also.

“No sharing germs,” chastised Sherbert, producing a large kerchief and holding it over her own son’s nose. “Blow like daddy, Sprocket.”

One perfunctory honk later from each of them, producing almost no snot, both mothers tucked away their respective kerchiefs and exchanged knowing looks.

“Are you two certain you want me along on this trip?” Banana Pudding asked for an uncounted time. “I mean my skillset is slanted to history and written lore. I can’t imagine what use I could be.”

“Mother, the items you will be examining are as dry and dusty as anything you have uncovered from some hidden tomb. Besides,” added Mane with a sideways glance at his wife, “since somepony invited herself on this trip, we will need a trusted foalsitter and bedtime story reader.”

There was a brief pause in the conversation where “It will be perfectly safe” was not said, broken when the griffon steward landed silently at the bottom of the boarding ramp where the unicorn family had been hesitating.

“Madames. Monsieur. Her Highness has settled into her suite, and we are finished boarding except for your party. If you would step this way, s'il te plaît.”

The family moved with the caution unicorns normally displayed around sharp drops and flying zeppelins, moving single file up into the belly of the Indomitable, a former warship of the neutral Griffon Emperor which had been converted to passenger service. It was a slower trip to Britain than taking an American flying boat, but it allowed a certain amount of ocean observation for the crew, and if it just so happened they spotted a German submarine on the surface…

Accidents do happen, after all.

Once they had been placed in the observation lounge with a few other scattered passengers, the steward departed on other tasks. Since the immobile (for the moment) Gusty was presently snoozing the morning away in Sherbert’s foal carrier, Mane encouraged Granma Nanna to entertain Sprocket while he had a few private words with his wife.

Straight to the point was the only way to get through to Sherbert, so he started with, “Are you going to tell me why you decided at the last minute to travel along with me to Britain on this mission?”

“Officially?” Sherbert tilted her head slightly. “Honeymoon.”

“And the real reason,” he continued.

“In case you get the urge to run again, I would prefer not to give you a head start. Also, your mother has been reluctant to visit us in Manehattan due to her ongoing… tensions with your father. This trip gives several months to a year of close contact with her son and grandfoals.”

Mane grunted, recognizing an argument that he could not win. It was still important to get in at least one point for the sake of his supposed position as the head of the family. “There may be terrible things ahead of us in Britain. The war is going poorly, the Soviets are covering the whole of the steppes with their blood, and the Americans are hard-put to fight in two different places at opposite ends of the world.” He hesitated before adding the painful words, “There is nopony I would rather face these terrible times with than you. Wait. That’s grammatically incorrect.”

“Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit,” recited Sherbert quietly. “These terrible times are powerful things, which we can turn into good. Together. Perhaps we can laugh about them later.”

“It is good to see you laugh.” Mane brushed away the strand of mane that kept falling into her face. “Hopefully, our life will continue to contain more laughter than tears.”

“And many diaper changes.” Sherbert sniffed and turned away. “I’ll take your mother to our cabin and get Gusty changed. You watch Sprocket. And no getting into trouble!”

“Who, us?” Mane brought his son over to the big window overlooking the rear of the zeppelin, checked to make sure he had not found a screwdriver somewhere, and stood quietly with him while Equestria grew smaller behind them.

A son. His brilliant young son who was making whole sentences while his peer group was still trying to eat the letters. It was quite a step for a spy to become a husband, working with a brilliant young mare who constantly pushed both of their limits. It was a far greater step to become a father, one who did not run away or punish his child for no reason, and Mane was determined to not screw these opportunities up.

“Where are we going when we reach Britain?” asked Sprocket out of the blue.

“Bletchley Park,” said Mane. “It is north of London.”

“That’s where Mister Turning works. Will we get to meet him? I find his letters amusing. The puzzles particularly.”

“Perhaps,” said Mane. “If you’re very good, and obey our rules.”

“I thought the first rule was ‘Don’t get caught?” asked Sprocket. The tiny foal thought fiercely, eventually adding, “So I should say I want to see where Peter Pan was written instead.”

“Correct,” said Mane, and his son nodded while still thinking.

“What will we do there? I mean what will we say we are doing there?”

“Mother will work as a secretary and I will tune pianos and sing,” said Mane

Sprocket looked in both directions, then lowered his small voice. “No spy stuff?”

“Not that we admit. So what do your parents do?”

“Daddy tunes pianoth and sings at parties, while Mama types all day,” said Sprocket in a much younger voice with a bit of a lisp. “What do your parents do? That’s a lot more interesting than mine. Did you want to play?”

“Very good.” Mane patted his son on the head, careful to not bump the stubby horn which still bore a few dark spots from his brief experiment with electrical plugs. “And your grandmother?”

“G’rama Banana lives in Canterlot and dusts statues. She knows lots of old stories. My other g’ramma died before I was borned.” The little unicorn thought some more. “Machine-grandma is sleeping until we get back, right?”

“Correct. Uncle Herman will be taking care of her fluid levels, and Uncle Prime promised to keep her safe. She needs a year or two of rest before we can turn the machine back on.”

“And someday she can’t get turned back on. I understand.”

Mane tousled his son’s mane. “You’re a very bright young colt, but I don’t think any of us really understand that.”

“No matter how much we learn, there’s always more.” Sprocket wrinkled up his nose. “More homework. Bleah.”

“Sometimes, homework is fun. It’s how I met your mother, after all.”

Father and son stood together in the observation lounge, watching the island of Equestria get smaller behind them until it was lost from sight. Then Sprocket spoke up.

“D’wana be a spy when I grow up. Wana be an astronaut.”

“You could be an astronaut spy,” suggested Mane.

“Nothing to spy on in space,” countered Sprocket.

Many years later, when the Thunderbolt 7 rocket lifted from Cape Canaveral with Admiral Sprocket’s Equestrian photoreconnaissance satellite on board, Mane was as proud as a father could be, with his wife right at his side..

Even though he could not tell anypony else about it.

It was the downside of being a spy.

The upsides of being a father were worth it.