And Then, Twilight Was a MarineView OnlineAnd Then, Twilight Was a MarineAnd Then, Twilight Was a MarineAn almost-gentle slap to the face woke Twilight. A voice said, “Hey Sparks, get up.” Opening her eyes revealed an alien face inches from her own. She squeaked and tried to recoil in horror, but lying on her back in bed left few options for escape. The strange creature rolled its eyes and straightened up, calling out, “Heads up, it’s another Twilight day!” A few other voices from somewhere else expressed their displeasure. Twilight sat up. “Who are you?” “I’m Thomas. Your name is Sparks. You volunteered for an experimental program to enhance Marine combat effectiveness with the ability to use magic and to survive on nothing but grass. It had the side effect of turning you into a purple unicorn mare who occasionally thinks her name is Twilight Sparkle.” Thomas sighed as if he’d explained this before. “I’m…sorry?” Twilight looked down at herself. Other than wearing slightly more clothing than normal, it looked like her usual body. Thomas turned. “You said you wanted to go to breakfast this morning. I was just waking you up so you aren’t late.” Twilight had no idea what he was talking about. Maybe she should ask more questions. She slid out of the bed to follow Thomas as he went out the door. Her legs were wobbly and the movement brought to her attention a headache she hadn’t noticed until then. Am I hungover? Her mouth felt dry. Twilight lifted the curtains, her magic wavering just a little. She quickly squeezed her eyes shut at the glare of the sun. Turning back to the room, she stepped around some clothing on the floor. It was sized much smaller than the items Thomas wore, so it was probably hers. Twilight wore thin, tall stockings on her back hooves for some reason. There was also a piece of fabric that ran between her legs and held snugly to her hips. It was not uncomfortable, so she decided to leave it on for the moment. She poked her head out the door, glancing left and right down a hallway. Another of the creatures she shared the space with stepped out of a door. “Morning, Sparks.” He stopped. “I know you’ve got the whole different species thing going on, but could you wear more than just panties around the apartment? Some people, like my girlfriend, don’t approve.” “Uh, sure.” Twilight nodded. “Oh right, you drank Killian’s last night so it’s a Twilight day and you don’t remember me.” He nodded. “My name’s Jacobs.” “Pleased to meet you.” Jacobs thought that was funny for some reason. He chuckled and walked away. Twilight retreated back into the room she’d woken up in. She picked up the clothing scattered around, putting it in a basket filled with other rumpled clothes. Inspecting the wardrobe revealed several different kinds of uniforms, probably military. There was also plenty of other clothing that resembled what Thomas and Jacobs wore. Twilight picked out an outfit, which according to the individual tags on each piece of clothing consisted of a “T-shirt” and “jean shorts.” Before putting it on, however, she thought it best to have a shower. There was a towel hanging on a hook, and the bathroom was right across the hallway. Passing by the mirror, Twilight stopped short. Her mane and tail were cut much shorter than normal, although still longer than the other creatures she had seen. What had Jacobs called them, people? She shook her head and quietly resolved to take things one at a time. It was difficult to turn off her inquisitive attitude. Refreshed after showering, Twilight returned to the bedroom. She still was not sure what purpose these so-called panties might serve, but put on a pair beneath the other clothes. She stepped into the hallway, watching Thomas pounding on another bedroom door. “Gintrowski! Get up! It’s a Twilight day.” There was a muffled groan and after a few moments the door opened. A face looked out, glancing at Twilight and nodding. “Sure enough.” “You can tell it’s me just by looking?” she asked. Thomas nodded. “Sparks walks on two legs.” Gintrowski groaned again and muttered, “Jeeze, you’d think the Polish name would help me at least a little with the beer.” “Polish?” asked Twilight. “The universal law of Polish surnames,” said Thomas. “As a group of people grows larger, the odds become greater that someone will be named –ski. It’s statistical probability.” “I like statistics,” said Twilight. Gintrowski and Thomas shared a knowing look. Jacobs came along just then. “Let’s go to breakfast.” They left the apartment and got into a contraption with wheels. Twilight’s assumption of a vehicle proved to be correct when Gintrowski put in a key and brought the machinery to life. A few glowing numbers on the dashboard seemed to indicate time. It was 10:36. “So you—we, I guess—are in the military?” asked Twilight. “We have got to get her to start asking different questions,” whined Jacobs. “But yes, the four of us are members of the United States Marine Corps. We're technically a part of the Navy and sometimes ride around on their ships, but truthfully we're the most badass fighting force in the world, we know it, we'll tell everyone who will listen, and skullfuck the ones who don't.” The others nodded in agreement, murmoring something that sounded like oorah. Twilight swallowed hard, unsure what she might be getting into. “So if we’re in the military, why are we wearing civilian clothes and going to breakfast at midmorning?” “It’s Memorial Day Weekend. We’re on a 96-hour pass. That’s the only reason we let Sparks have Killian’s,” said Thomas. “I still think we should do it more often,” muttered Gintrowski. “Sparks is starting to creep me out.” “I understand the shock of being turned female, but yeah,” agreed Jacobs. “Stockings and short skirts are not what I want to see my buddies wearing. If anyone actually wanted to tap that flank, I wouldn't let Sparks use the apartment.” “That’s another thing I like about you, Twilight, you don’t dress like a hooker,” laughed Thomas. “I’m sorry, I don’t really remember anything about switching places,” said the unicorn. Jacobs looked apologetic. “You never do, Twilight. Sorry, but Sparks is the dominant personality. The shrinks have given up trying to explain it.” That was a worrying thought. Twilight could remember her life in Equestria. Surely she wasn’t just a figment from the imagination of the mysterious Sparks? In another few minutes, the four of them arrived at a restaurant. Inside, the chairs were a little uncomfortable for Twilight to sit on, but she managed to do a reasonable impersonation of a person. “What do I like to eat?” she asked. It seemed like a silly question. “They say you’re an herbivore, but Sparks never had any trouble digesting a few strips of bacon,” said Gintrowski. Twilight did not like the connotations of his statement, but let the three of them order for her. None of the wait staff or other customers thought it odd that a purple pony was among them. Perhaps Sparks was a regular. The food was good. Scrambled eggs and toast were the only recognizable parts, however. Twilight mostly kept quiet, listening. She was able to piece together a surprising amount of information just by keeping an ear on the breakfast conversation. It helped her take her mind off whatever the mysterious bacon might be made of. It was too suspicious to put out of her mind, but too good to stop eating. It still wasn’t quite noon when they left the restaurant. Jacobs asked, “So what do you guys want to do?” “Go to a movie?” “Jarhead’s playing.” “We’ve seen that like fifteen times.” “Do you care?” “…No.” And so Twilight was introduced to the cinematic experience that was Jarhead. Creating quite an impression on her were the masturbation discussions, general attitude, and the 278 mentions of the word “fuck” over the course of the two-hour film. Exiting the theater, Twilight commented, “Is that really how the Marine Corps is?” “It can be,” said Jacobs. “It can suck a lot.” “On the other hand, you don't look anything like Jake Gyllenhaal, so we're probably safe,” added Gintrowski. Twilight frowned, trying to remember which character that was. “I’m not sure what to think.” Thomas grinned. “It’s two o’clock on Saturday afternoon. You don’t think, you drink.” And so they did. They found a local drinking establishment and entered. The walls were covered with Marine memorabilia. Twilight looked around, feeling a little hesitant, but found that a few beverages helped her relax. The four of them were soon gathered around a table, talking and laughing. The pony mostly sat and listened, occasionally sipping beer. Once in a while she broke in with questions. “So what made the military decide to turn someone into a pony?” she asked. “There are a lot of advantages,” said Jacobs. “You’re a little bit smaller target now.” Gintrowski commented, “The repeal of Don't Ask Don't Tell now allows same-sex couples, but nobody said anything about same-species." “The fur gives you a little insulation, which helps in cold climates, but also stops hot brass from burning your skin,” added Thomas. “5.56 millimeter hickey,” laughed Jacobs. “Technically it’s hair, not fur,” corrected Twilight. “What is 5.56 millimeter?” “Ammo,” said Thomas. He smiled. “One of these days, we need to take Twilight to the shooting range.” There was a general chorus of agreement. As the afternoon wore on, more people entered the tavern, the vast majority of them Marines. Before too long, it was a party. As most of the attendees were drunk young men, it was quite a wild one. Twilight could feel her self control slipping away with every sip, and was not sure she cared. After all, if this was her day to take over, why not have some fun? It would be Sparks paying for it, just like she’d woken up that morning with his hangover. A bottle of something was brought to the table along with shot glasses. Twilight amused herself and the other three with a bit of magical trick pouring. In the background, the noise of the crowd only increased and somewhere loud music was playing. More alcohol fueled the festivities, and everywhere Twilight looked the throng of people appeared to be having a good time. And then the branding started. Someone had brought a small propane torch and a metal form with the letters USMC on it. A couple of eager Marines wished to get a permanent marking of their time in the Corps. “You should go do that,” said Jacobs, slurring his words a little. “Maybe getting your ass branded would keep Sparks from wearing skirts so short.” “But I like my cutie mark,” protested Twilight. “Can you heal it with magic?” asked Gintrowski. “I suppose.” “Well, leave the brand for Sparks to find. He’ll freak, and then you can take care of it the next time you come back.” Twilight grabbed the bottle, bypassing the shot glass in favor of a swig. She giggled. “Let's do this.” Her three buddies escorted the pony over to where the branding was going on. She dropped her shorts and presented her posterior. Twilight snapped awake with a little shriek. She looked around at the bedroom’s wooden walls and her dragon assistant Spike in his own bed nearby. “Huh? Twilight, what's going on?” The unicorn moaned and lay back. “That dream again, Spike.” “You really shouldn't have volunteered for that learning experiment, Twilight.” “They said it would give me dreams about Marine Biology! 'Learn while you sleep' my flank! Not to mention the perverse side effects,” she added with disgust. “I've really been thinking about sex too much lately. Lucky it hasn't managed to work it's way into my subconcious yet.” Spike thought for a moment. “Well, at least none of those characters has ever tried to sleep with you. That would be a kind of biology.” His eyes went wide. "Oh, I'm sorry! I know I shouldn't be talking about things like that with your, uh, side effects.” Twilight's eye twitched as she tried to restrain herself, but then her face broke into a mischievous smile as a sudden idea came to her. Could it be...a new type of shipfic? The ponynet must know! She paused. No, Marines x Navy would be terrible. Nopony would read a shipfic involving real ships.
But Later, Rarity Was a TankerView OnlineAnd Then, Twilight Was a MarineBut Later, Rarity Was a TankerKABOOM Rarity screeched and flailed, the nearby explosion ripping her from sleep. Her hooves pounded off the thick steel of the box she was in. It really wasn’t a bad box, all things considered. The padded seat beneath Rarity lay back like a recliner. The solid walls that allowed plenty of room around her were painted antiseptic white. Three small rectangular windows let in some light, and a few dials and indicator lights glowed with soft illumination. The worst part was that Rarity had no idea how she had gotten there and had no idea how to get out. “Did we wake you up, driver?” chuckled a voice in Rarity’s ear. “I’m awake,” she grumped, pawing at her head. She seemed to be wearing a set of earphones with an attached microphone. It seemed that without them, the voices would be lost among a high pitched background whine. Rarity had no idea what the sound might be. She went on. “Who am I speaking to? What was that loud noise just a moment ago?” Several seconds of silence passed and then the voice came back, sounding cautious. “First, let me ask you a question. What is your name?” “My name is Rarity. I’m a dressmaker from Ponyville and—” Several voices spewing curse words drowned her out. The original voice cut through the cacophony, barking at “Floyd” and “Prosser” to get out and “take care of her.” Rarity began to grow anxious. Was the voice on the intercom a pony? What sort of creatures would have names like that? And were they taking care of her, or taking care of her? There was a sound like a heavy metal hatch opening. Muted steps sounded from somewhere above Rarity’s head, coming closer. Part of the light from the small windows went dark. “Don’t freak out, okay Rarity?” called a voice from right outside. There was a squeak of machinery, perhaps a latch. Rarity looked upwards in anticipation as a hatch began to open. Two strange creatures wearing headsets peered in. They were both dressed in a mottled grey-green uniform, with tags that read “U.S. Army.” One had the nametag “Floyd” and the other was “Prosser.” “Please don’t be fucking with us,” said Prosser. He and his companion hadn’t moved forward to attack, so Rarity decided to just let them sit there outside the hatch. She wasn’t about to trust them, but they seemed more annoyed with her than anything. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you are talking about,” Rarity articulated evenly. “Can you tell me where I am?” “Christ, Private Belle did it again,” muttered Floyd, shaking his head. “Sorry, ah, Rarity. I know you’re weirded out and not supposed to be here.” Gaining confidence, and also some confusion, Rarity asked, “Do you mind explaining what has happened to me?” “Long story short, we are called people,” Prosser pointed to himself and Floyd, “and our buddy who used to be one of us volunteered for an experiment that turned him into a unicorn. Every once in a while, Belle loses his mind and you take over.” That did not clear things up in the slightest but Rarity politely limited herself to one question at a time. Prosser sighed. “Well, at least we can use your TK up in the turret and finish up this exercise. Let’s get you out of the driver’s seat.” Floyd and Prosser offered hands, which Rarity let them use to grab her forehooves. They hauled her out of the box she had been inside. Rarity was slightly startled to realize that she was wearing one of the same ugly uniforms that the two people wore, although suitably tailored to fit her body. The nametag read "Belle." Taking her eyes off the camouflage cloth, she looked around to find herself standing atop a large angular machine. It was painted olive green. Trees were to the side and behind it, while a bare dirt trail was below. “Come on, let’s get you up to the turret,” said Prosser, nudging Rarity upwards. Floyd slipped into the seat where Rarity had been. After a moment, he emerged again, frowning and showing off an empty brown bottle with a red label. Prosser rolled his eyes and grabbed it, continuing to escort Rarity to the top of the machine. There was another hatch up there and Rarity took that to mean she was supposed to go inside. There didn’t seem to be any easy way of going about that, however. Fortunately, another person appeared in the hole and offered a hand. Between Prosser and the new person, they got Rarity inside. She found herself in a space much larger than before. There were many controls and devices that she didn’t recognize, but was grateful for the chance to stretch out. Prosser closed the overhead hatch with a clang. He turned to the other person and handed over the empty bottle. “Belle was drinking again, TC.” The one called TC accepted the bottle and looked at it sadly. “Well, I suppose when our driver gets back, we’ll have to do something about this. I don’t want to kick his ass out, but I just can’t cover for him.” Rarity shifted uncomfortably. “Am I to understand that I have replaced your driver?” “Yeah.” TC shrugged. “Not your fault, Rarity. For some strange reason, whenever Belle drinks Killian’s, he turns into, well…you.” “Is this some sort of military unit?” Rarity asked. “I take it that drinking on duty is not allowed?” “Got that right,” called Floyd through the intercom. It seemed that he had taken over as the driver. “But even if we have to file a report when we get back, we can at least finish the exercise, right Tank Commander?” TC nodded. “Yeah, I guess it couldn’t hurt. Rarity, just do what we tell you and try not to steal our secrets, okay?” She gasped. “I’m not a spy!” Everyone else chuckled, either in front of her or through the intercom. “Yeah, you sure don’t look Chinese,” commented Prosser. Rarity didn’t know how to take that comment and kept silent. TC listened to a radio for a moment and then announced, “Okay, we’re cleared for more shooting. Gunner, sabot - tank.” “Grab one of those and stuff it in here,” said Prosser to Rarity, pointing to a rack of cylindrical objects and a dark hole in front of them. Obediently, she lifted one of the strange tubular things and slid it into the horizontal shaft. It fit neatly. Prosser pulled a lever and a metal wedge closed over the top of the hole. “Up,” he called to TC. “Stand back and be ready for the noise,” Prosser directed Rarity. He turned to a small device like a telescope, that was somehow electronic, and pressed his face to it. He announced, “Identified.” “Fire and adjust,” ordered TC. “On the way!” KABOOM Despite the warning she had received, Rarity jumped. The breech of what she now realized was a cannon recoiled, pistoning into the place where she had just been standing. She made a note of where the danger zone was, and to stay out of it. While Rarity herself did not know very much about weapons, a pony could only spend so much time around Pinkie without learning about her party cannon. Rarity understood that the military used much more serious kinds of cannons. It did not take a genius to know what she was dealing with. As the main gun recoiled to its former position, the spent cannon shell thudded out onto the floor. Rarity picked up a fresh one and loaded it. "Up!" Prosser gave her a nod of thanks and turned back to his devices. “Identified.” “Fire and adjust.” “On the way!” KABOOM “What exactly are we shooting at?” Rarity asked, loading the gun again. “Practice targets. They’re about 2500 yards away,” replied TC. “We’ve scored solid hits on every shot, too.” “Impressive.” While the implications of such a weapon were astonishing, Rarity appreciated that kind of precision. Knowing she had helped accomplish the feat was nice, too. “I hate to say this, TC,” said Prosser as he lined up another shot, “but it’s too bad we can’t keep Rarity around. She’s not useless as a loader. She’s polite. Even when she’s not Rarity, we’re basically wasting her unicorn talents as a tank driver.” TC shrugged. “I don’t make the rules. Oh, and fire.” KABOOM Rarity jolted awake, somewhat surprised to find herself resting on her bed upstairs in the boutique where she lived and worked. She sighed and fell back. It had been that damn dream again. Rarity was not prone to harsh language, and even if the infuriating dream deserved it, she chastised herself to stooping for such vulgar terms. The sun was just beginning to creep under her window shades. It was still early, but Rarity was not about to go back to sleep. She dragged herself out of bed and spent several minutes getting her appearance presentable. Not fabulous, just enough so that she could go out in public for a quick trip to the library. She needed to talk to Twilight. Rarity’s cat, Opalescence, lounged in her basket by the door. Not wanting to draw the ire of her pet so early in the morning, Rarity passed by without waking her. Stepping outside, Rarity looked both ways before hurrying over to the tall tree that housed the Ponyville library. Letting herself in, she called, “Twilight? Could I have a word with you?” “She’s upstairs,” called Spike. He came into the room, looking worried. This was strange, as he was usually fawning over Rarity whenever she was in range of his affection. “I think something’s wrong with Twilight,” Spike said. “Suck it up…ah, darling,” Rarity replied. She blushed, but quickly stepped past Spike to hide the emotion. That response she'd given Spike was completely unprecedented. Rarity wondered if something might be wrong with her, too. She found Twilight upstairs, feverishly hunched over her computer. There was a ponynet webpage up on the screen, and Rarity could see that it was some sort of writing site. Hearing Rarity come in, Twilight hurriedly minimized the window and turned. “Oh Rarity, what are you doing here?” Rarity was curious what her friend was up to, but decided not to ask. “I’ve been having a strange fuc—um, a strange dream lately and I hope you could help.” Twilight’s eyebrows furrowed at hearing Rarity’s almost slip of the tongue, but said, “Actually, I’ve been having strange dreams, too. You tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.” The two of them spent the next several minutes trading information. Rarity caught herself almost uttering profanity several more times but managed to stop herself at each instance. As the two mares talked, a surprising pattern emerged. There was a facinating similarity to their dreams, mainly the fact that they both involved strange creatures called people, who were a part of the United States of America’s military. Different branches to be sure, but it certainly couldn’t be a coincidence. “Why are we suddenly tapping in to this unusual network of consciousness?” Twilight muttered. “We need to figure out why this is happening.” “Damn right,” Rarity murmured in agreement, this time not bothering to censor herself. She glanced out the window at a few early morning pegasi flying by. She had a sudden urge to get ahold of Pinkie’s party canon and fire at them, screaming, “Get some!” Rarity shuddered. In the state she was in, barely able to control her speech, downloading a copy of Apocolypse Meow for Opal had been a terrible idea. Author's Note To new readers: This started out as a one-shot, but I recently decided to restart it. There will eventually be chapters for the whole Mane 6. And yes, there is an overarching plot to tie it all together. Technical details for this chapter provided by Jake The Army Guy
However, Applejack was a NucView OnlineAnd Then, Twilight Was a MarineHowever, Applejack was a NucWhen Applejack woke up in the morning, she had a feeling that something was wrong. She wasn’t naked. The clothing on her body was a bit of a surprise. She rolled over, trying to identify exactly what she was wearing. It looked like a pair of denim pants and some sort of lightweight shirt. A hammering came from the bedroom door, startling her. A voice called, “Yo, Applejack. You all right?” “Fine, I s'pose,” she replied to the unfamiliar voice. “Do I know you?” “No. Just read the letter above your desk and then come to breakfast, okay?” A pair of footsteps walked away from the door. Applejack thought about that. Just one pair of steps, implying bipedal locomotion? She shook her head, wondering where she’d come up with that term. Deciding to see what this letter was all about, she slipped out of bed and trotted over to the desk. A piece of paper with typed text on it was taped to the wall. The page was faded a little, as if it had been hanging there for a while. Applejack studied it, her eyebrows slowly climbing as her gaze traveled down the page. To Applejack, In the likely event that you are reading this, these are the things you need to know: The United States government conducted experiments using volunteers from the Department of Defense, Department of Homeland Security, and the Intelligence Community. Lieutenant Jackson of the United States Navy was one such volunteer. He turned into an orange mare. When Jackson drinks Killian’s, a kind of beer, his personality is replaced by you, Applejack. Killian’s is Jackson’s favorite kind of beer. Jackson is roommates with Lieutenant Swartz. They are submarine nuclear officers and the kind of people who enjoy making lists like this. “Huh,” Applejack muttered aloud. Something about this seemed familiar, but she couldn’t quite figure out why. Maybe this had happened to her before? Or perhaps it was simple déjà vu. She shook her head and turned towards the door. A creature taller and thinner than Applejack was sitting at the table in the dining room when she entered. He wore glasses, and lifted a hand to give her a little wave of greeting. “Swartz?” she asked. He nodded and then gestured to a cup and plate on the table. “Got you coffee and breakfast.” With a murmur of thanks, Applejack sat down across from him and picked up the cup. The brew was quite good, and she said as much. “It’s premium Kona,” Swartz replied. The name didn’t mean anything to Applejack, but the coffee maker sitting on the counter sure looked fancy. She glanced out the window, seeing what appeared to be a sunny day with lots of green vegetation and a beach in the distance. It must be a tropical temperate climate, she realized. An unusual number of big words had been popping up in her thoughts, to the point that Applejack wondered if something might be wrong with her. To distract herself, she tried some conversation. “So, nice place you have here.” Swartz nodded. “We’re two nerdy bachelors splitting the rent while also getting paid for nuclear duty.” “What’s nuclear?” Applejack asked. Swartz mused for a moment. “You usually ask that when you show up here. Maybe we should add it to the orientation letter. Nuclear is a term for the splitting or fusion of atoms to release energy and produce useful heat. To the US Navy, that means our submarines can go for a long time underwater without having to burn hydrocarbons for fuel.” Applejack nodded. “I can see how that would be advantageous.” “Hmm, it usually takes longer to get the idea across. You're learning." “S’pose so.” The two of them sat for a few more minutes and drank coffee. The silence was broken by an electronic ringing noise. Swartz took a small device out of his pocket and looked at it briefly before putting it to his ear. “Hello?” He listened for a moment. “Yes mom, I’m quite aware what is coming up soon. Happy Fourth of July to you, too.” The conversation continued for a few moments longer before Swartz put the device away. He glanced up, seeing Applejack’s questioning look. “It’s the Fourth of July, Independence Day for the United States. That’s why we aren’t working our asses off at the sub.” “So, some kind of vacation?” Applejack asked. Swartz nodded. “Day one was Jackson getting drunk. This is day two.” He paused. “I don’t have a girlfriend or anything so I have nothing against going out drinking again.” “Guess you’ll have to show me around,” Applejack said. “We can always go to K-Bay and freak out the Marines with science,” Swartz proposed. “You should probably have a shower first, though.” Applejack did notice that her clothing was somewhat rumpled and smelly, presumably from the previous night’s drinking. She obediently returned to the bedroom where she’d woken up and collected a new outfit. The bathroom was nearby and she had a shower. When redressed in fresh clothes, Applejack stepped out the door with Swartz. She carried Jackson’s ID and money. Swartz told her that he wouldn’t mind. They traveled in a machine that Swartz operated. Everything about it looked rather expensive, probably due to the “nuc money” he had mentioned, and Applejack decided not to touch anything. They stopped along the way at a small roadside stand advertising a product called Spam. Swartz explained, “These places are all over Hawaii. Try the Spam musubi. Don’t worry, it’s not real meat.” That explanation put Applejack on edge, but Swartz seemed honest enough. The dish was filling and salty enough to be pleasant, even if the texture was strange. Paying for it with a simple swipe of a plastic card was also a very novel experience. After eating, they continued on, passing a sign that read Kāneʻohe Bay. Now Applejack understood why Swartz had shortened the name. Plenty of people were around, and Swartz parked near a place that was a bar. Some things didn’t change from Equestria to here, and this establishment was clearly made for drinking. Swartz turned. “Do me a favor? If any cute girls come up to us and say, ‘Oh, what a cute pony!’ play along.” “Uh, sure.” The two of them entered the bar. A few people glanced at Applejack, but apparently her appearance was not too out of the ordinary. Strange. Had a lot of people been turned into ponies? Applejack was pleased to find that they had hard cider here, at least. She ordered and hung out near the bar with Swartz. It was still early and traffic in the door was light. It was looking like a relaxed day. That was until a group of men came in with a purple unicorn. Applejack’s eyes popped wide open and she trotted across the floor. “Twilight! What are you doing here?” The other mare was dressed in some sort of flimsy dress and stood upright, turning on two legs to look as Applejack approached. “Who are you?” Applejack paused, realizing what she had just blundered into. “Uh, sorry. Got you confused with somepony else.” The unicorn chuckled. “Sailors.” The group of men echoed the laugh. They were all rather burly and had short haircuts. Applejack noticed a few women making eyes at them. Backing away, as clearly the purple pony didn’t want to talk to her, Applejack felt rather slighted. Sure it wasn’t actually her friend Twilight, but that didn’t mean there had to be enmity between them. There she went again with the fancy words. Applejack frowned as she walked back to Swartz. He looked sympathetic. “From what I hear, that’s Lance Corporal Sparks, of the Marines. Quite the ladies’ man before and still fairly active now, just the other way.” “Not very friendly,” Applejack observed. “Just basic biology.” Swartz shrugged. “Two of you in the same room lessens the chances of scoring.” “Guess I should have a few more drinks,” Applejack muttered. “Maybe I’d be able to forget you said that.” “Just don’t go overboard. Wouldn’t want the local spies to get their hands on you while drunk.” It sounded like Swartz was joking, but Applejack couldn’t help but ask, “What spies?” Swartz shrugged. “Chinese?” Some time passed. Applejack had a few drinks, but didn’t really feel them. Swartz suggested that perhaps it was due to her hearty biology. Still, at some point as the hours grew later, Applejack felt confident enough to do something about how she had been treated earlier. Swartz saw her staring at where a group of women were flirting with the unicorn’s friends. Somehow, the purple pony had managed to attract a man or two. “Come on, let’s get some cash,” Applejack suggested. “What for?” asked Swartz. “Science. I’d like to study the effects of currency on biological attraction.” Swartz looked confused, but showed Applejack how to operate the nearby ATM. Both of them walked over to the group of Marines. Applejack cleared her throat. “Excuse me, but my friend and I are incredibly wealthy.” Both she and Swartz whipped out wads of cash. Instantly, no one was paying attention to the Marines anymore. Applejack smiled inwardly. The experiment had been a success. Applejack’s eyes popped open, staring up at the farmhouse ceiling. These dreams she was having were getting out of hoof. More interestingly, they seemed to be tied in with what her friends were reporting. As a habitual early riser, Applejack was up before the sun. She put on her hat and hurried into town, her mind whirling with possibilities. Opening the library door quietly, Applejack spotted one of Twilight’s large chalkboards. There were a few notes on it about the mysterious dreams, but it was mostly blank. Over the next few hours, Applejack covered the board with links, connections, and hypotheses. There were a few clear connections. It seemed that all people who had been turned into ponies shared a common link of being affiliated with the United States. Their condition of occasionally changing personalities had so far been consistently caused by the beer called Killian’s. Granted, three out of three was not statistically speaking, a truth, but definitely a place to start. Applejack wasn’t going to start running the probability, although she could have. Standing in front of the board, Applejack frowned. She wasn’t sure of the reason for all this happening, but was definitely concerned about the effects. What if these humans figured out how to make the process work in reverse? There were several other possibilities related to that. But back to the basic process, it reminded Applejack of astral projection. That couldn’t be the whole answer, but it might be a place to start. Magic such as that was not her expertise as an earth pony, so she moved off into the library to find an appropriate text to educate herself. Coming back with more books than expected, Applejack set to work on them. It took a while, but an idea began to form in her mind. A particular passage had jumped out. Projections may be caused by an anchor between the projector and projectee. This can be an object, idea, or common trait. Thinking on that, Applejack went back to her correlation. When Twilight woke up, she came downstairs to find several of her chalkboards in use. Applejack had pulled them into the center of the room and covered them all in scribbling. The farmer looked up as Twilight entered. “Twi, get the girls here. I think I’m onto something.” When the six Elements of Harmony, and Spike, were assembled, Applejack indicated her points in order and laid down her summary of information. “Twilight seems to be a little more amorous than normal. Her Earth counterpart Sparks is known for being lustful.” Twilight blushed. Applejack continued. “Rarity has been having problems with her language and ladylike habits. Belle, from Earth, was said to be not very polite.” Rarity started to say something, but quickly covered her mouth. “That doesn’t sound like much to go on,” Rainbow put in, staring skeptically. “I know,” Applejack admitted. “I have a few other ideas, but for confirmation all of you need to help me gather more information.” “Okie dokie loki!” Pinkie cheered. “We’ll be the best information gatherers of all time! I don’t really know where to start with that because we’re here and the humans are in some kind of crazy dream world, but we’ll so totally give it our best shot!” “Um, yes,” agreed Fluttershy. Applejack nodded and looked around. “I’d like you all to record your dreams from here on out, every detail. If we can create a database to better correlate our information and back that up with hard numerological evidence, we might just be able to solve this.” “I’m really impressed, Applejack,” said Spike. “Since when are you so smart?” “Yeah, egghead, what gives?” added Rainbow. Applejack scratched her head. “I have no idea. I took an IQ test on the ponynet the other day and it said I was just average.” Pinkie started in on another one of her rambling monologues. Applejack thought for a moment, wondering if she could develop an equation in order to eliminate the superfluous words. She shook her head. No, Pinkie was probably not mathematically predictable.
Of Course, Rainbow Was a CoastieView OnlineAnd Then, Twilight Was a MarineOf Course, Rainbow Was a Coastie“Sorry about ruining your Labor Day, Dashiell, but we really need you out here.” Rainbow jerked awake, raising her head from the pillow. A tall creature standing on two legs was staring at her. Several seconds passed as vague memories and half-remembered dreams filtered through her head. She realized that she must be looking at a human, and remembered that it was important to learn about her situation. Exactly how she had gotten to this bed, and where the bed was located, remained a mystery, but Rainbow decided that if she played it cool and made smart choices she could complete her mission here and bring back valuable material for contributing to the solving the enigma that the Elements of Harmony had found themselves tangled up in. “Um, hello? You okay?” asked the human when Rainbow still hadn’t answered. Based on his voice, she decided that he was probably male. Rainbow shook her head. “Sorry, zoned out there for a second. What do you need me for?” “We’re just about to start for the day. I know you were supposed to have a nice Labor Day leave, and you were out partying last night, but it looks like we need you today. I know it sucks, you didn’t plan for this, and I hope you aren’t hung over.” “No, I’m good,” Rainbow replied. The man left. She lifted the covers and got out of the bed. She was wearing some sort of blue uniform with the name Dashiell on it. She heard a faint sound that built into a dull roar with high-pitched undertones. It seemed to be coming from overhead, and outside. A few seconds passed and it faded away. Rainbow frowned. What could have made that kind of noise? It sounded fast. Rainbow knew that her, or rather Dashiell’s, presence had been requested, but looked around for a few moments to gather more information. A few pictures of strange machines had been taped up and she quickly memorized them in case it turned out to be important information. Now that she’d had more time to think, memories were coming back. Her friends had been having strange dreams about a mysterious land of people and their military. Apparently, it was Rainbow’s turn. Once they’d learned what to expect, the ponies had formed a plan to gather intelligence about how to proceed. Rainbow had decided to impersonate her counterpart, in an attempt to go undercover and figure out what was going on. She grinned to herself. This was going to be awesome. She opened the door and stepped outside, nearly falling into the ocean. Glancing wildly around, Rainbow saw that she was standing on the deck of a boat, tied up to the pier next to the coast. Rainbow remembered what else had been on her uniform, besides the name tag. Huh, so this must be what “Coast Guard” means. The noise from the sky came back. Rainbow looked up to see a large contraption with four spinning propellers. It was painted white and orange and flew through the air faster than most pegasi could manage. From the pictures near her bed, Rainbow remembered that it was a C-130 Hercules. The distinctive sound of the turboprops echoed in her ears. Nearby, a smaller vehicle with one spinning rotor on top, a HH-65 Dolphin, was hovering over the water. People seemed to be jumping out of it and getting winched back up again for practice. “So…awesome,” Dash managed to say, barely suppressing a squee. “Hey, Dashiell! Come do this paperwork!” And that’s when Rainbow realized that this infiltration mission would not be so neat after all. She slunk across the deck and entered the boat’s office. A few people were doing paperwork with all the enthusiasm that those denied vacation could muster. Dash felt their pain. The forms turned out to be travel requests for those who had gone somewhere. They were not too difficult to process, and all Rainbow had to do was stamp and date them the way the official publication said. The manual was fairly straightforward, provided one had a law degree and a personality more boring than average. But it was the book, and the book was always correct. As long as you followed instructions to the letter, no fault could be found with your work. Rainbow requisitioned a pen and set to work. She kept her eyes moving, hoping that something valuable would pop out. Mostly, it was just an endless chain of paperwork and printed instructions. It was so repetitive that she began to lose track of where one form ended and the others began, yet managed to work out a system that everything kept ticking along perfectly. The manual demanded it. “Why did I get myself into this,” Rainbow muttered. “Someone has to,” one of her fellow paper-pushers reminded her. “For every person out there doing cool stuff, the paperwork still has to be filed by someone. Thankless work maybe, but it’s what the government is built on.” The entire paperwork crew began to sing. When I was four there was a hurricane in Kingston Town With a foot and a half of water Everyone was alright, but I cried all night It blew my alphabet blocks out of order And they say This boy’s born to be a bureaucrat Born to be all obsessive and snotty I made my friends and relations fill long applications To get into my tenth birthday party! Rainbow pretended to sing along, but had started to sweat with the effort of maintaining her cover. She excused herself and went out the door. The fresh air was nice, but Rainbow knew she couldn’t dawdle for too long or someone might get suspicious. Still, if she was going to learn anything while on this boat, she would prefer it to be sooner rather than later. Another door looked promising and Rainbow entered. Inside she found a passageway with a few more doors. One of them had a very fancy looking lock on it. Despite that, it was propped open. Rainbow pushed it open wider, stepping inside. Someone was already there, sitting in front of a computer. According to his nametag, he was Nelson. “Hey Dashiell. Need a SIPR computer?” “Sure,” she replied. Of course! If humans had anything like the ponynet, this would be perfect for finding information. “Okay, just sign in.” Nelson pushed a piece of paper at her. It was a form for recording date, time, and the name of whoever accessed the computers. Rainbow didn’t know Dashiell’s first name but took a gamble and made an illegible scribble. It wasn’t like anyone actually read these forms; they were just regulation paperwork. Nelson locked the door. “Okay, you're good for secret access.” He went back to whatever he was working on. His computer had a green bar at the top of the screen that read “unclassified.” Rainbow sat down in front of another computer. This one had a red bar that indicated “secret.” She grinned. This was exactly what she was looking for. A small sticker on the computer asked her to login with a card. Rainbow began going through her pockets furtively, finding an ID with Dashiell’s name and picture. There was a small chip embedded in it. Sliding the card into the computer produced a screen asking for the password. Rainbow frowned, looking down at the keyboard. She put one hoof on it and pressed down, resulting in a jumble of scrambled characters. Pressing enter, however, indicated that it was correct. Rainbow blinked in surprise. Evidently, Dashiell had adopted the instinctive pony way of using a keyboard. Interesting. Also, lucky. Taking a few minutes to orient herself with both the human-adapted mouse and unfamiliar operating system, Rainbow began clicking through things. There was not much on the computer itself, but after connecting to the network, a search box was displayed on the screen. After thinking for a moment, she typed “ponies.” A screen of links about the pony transformation program popped up and Rainbow went through them one by one. There was some good information here, but most of it things she already knew, like the existence of magic or flight. There was a list of contact information, but she didn’t click on any of the names. It was quite extensive, and Rainbow wondered how many ponies she knew might have counterparts here. Deciding what to search next, Rainbow typed “Chinese.” Quite a few more results came up this time. After hunting for a moment, she clicked on an overview. This took her to a page of basic information and news. Most of the news contained stories about hacking, new military technology, and geopolitical announcements. Rainbow skimmed the articles. In her poking around, Rainbow had discovered a spreadsheet program on the computer and began making a chart of information she already had and things that she didn’t. It helped organization and Rainbow had to begrudgingly admit that proper procedure got things done. It would have helped if Rainbow knew more about the type of information that she and her friends needed, but she also knew that she was laying the groundwork for the others to learn more. It might not have been so dazzling, but somepony had to do it. The door rattled in its frame as someone tried to come in. A heavy knocking sounded. “Rainbow Dash, are you in there?” Nelson looked up from his desk and glanced at Rainbow. “Wait, you’re the alter ego and didn’t tell anyone? In this secure room?” He quickly got up and opened the door. A crowd of angry coasties poured in. “She’s not Dashiell! Get her!” Rainbow stopped them with an outstretched hoof. “You can’t just come in here and conduct a raid on a pony that you suspect may be an imposter. Read your publications and determine the correct procedure.” It was a gamble, but a good one. No self-respecting member of the military would ever disobey the manual. Live by the book, die by the book. And then someone realized that was horse pucky and the entire group charged Rainbow. She snapped awake in a cold sweat. Breathing hard, Rainbow sat up from her bed. Her friends stood around her in the basement of the library. Twilight checked her clipboard and noted, “The sleeping potion worked as expected. Tell me, Rainbow. Did the vivid dream additive send you to the other world like it was supposed to?” “It did,” Rainbow answered. She got up. “Do you have your procedures for the experiment?” Rainbow quietly hoped that Twilight hadn't done anything...strange while she was asleep. Something was definitely off about Twilight's sex drive. In fact, strange incidents had happened to all her friends. Best to get to the bottom of things properly. “The procedures are right here,” Twilight replied to Rainbow's question, showing a page of written notes. “If the additive worked on you, I think we’re ready to declare it a success.” “Not yet, you’ll have to file a procedural application with the Food and Drug Administration in Canterlot. They’ll want a typed copy, signed and stamped as original.” “So what did you see?” asked Applejack, changing the subject. “I have new information to add,” Rainbow replied. She recounted what she’d experienced while dreaming. “I hope Dashiell is okay,” Fluttershy whispered. Rainbow frowned. “There will probably be lengthy court proceedings, but ultimately nothing can be proven. I do feel kinda bad for doing that, though. Dashiell is going to pay the price for what I did.” It wasn’t like Rainbow never did anything wrong. Just last week she had downloaded a whole bunch of music without paying for it. That was on her, though, not someone whose body she’d temporarily requisitioned. “Your foreign counterpart’s sacrifice was worth it,” said Rarity. She shook her head, evidentially still fighting whatever mental changes she had been cursed with. “I mean, it is rather sad, but to solve this we need the information you brought back.” Rainbow nodded and went over to the chalkboards that Applejack had filled with numbers and figures. “This must be organized.” Applejack waited a beat. “What now?” “Yes. You’re going to requisition paper to copy this for reference - typed properly, double spaced - and then reformat the outline on the chalkboards to meet a pre-established organizational plan. Said plan will be laid out ahead of time by a panel of voters and subject matter experts. Refer to the nonfiction section of the library for required definitions.” “I have this blank chalkboard right here that we can just add what you learned,” said Applejack flatly. “That’s a lot easier and faster.” Rainbow got in her face. “Do you want it done easy, or do you want it done right?”
Plus, Fluttershy Was a SpyView OnlineAnd Then, Twilight Was a MarinePlus, Fluttershy Was a SpyFluttershy felt like she was drowning. Her eyes snapped open and she coughed, spitting out a fizzy, slightly bitter beverage. Above her was a worried face, sporting reddish whiskers and framed by more locks of the same. “What’s your name, lass?” His voice carried plenty of accent. “F-Fluttershy.” Her chest heaved, attempting to regain her breath. The face, of what she realized must be a man, nodded and gently let her head down from the position in which he had apparently been force feeding her from an amber glass bottle. The label on it read Killian's. He moved a few steps away and gave Fluttershy room to take in her surroundings. She sat up on the bed and looked around. The place appeared to be a small hotel room. She could hear the sounds of a city outside the curtained window. It seemed to be evening. Fluttershy knew she had to figure out what was going on, to see if this situation was important to what her friends were trying to figure out, or if it was just a random event in the life of whoever she had replaced. She asked, “Who are you?” “Call me Mick. It’s easier to pronounce than my name, and close enough regardless, despite being on the wrong side of an ethnic slur.” The man shrugged. “I’m a private contractor working for the United States National Security Agency. The NSA assigned me to work with you as your intoxication specialist.” Fluttershy frowned. “Intoxication?” “Aye, the Killian’s. Apparently me being Irish is qualification enough.” He shrugged again. “I’m the one who keeps you in the stuff so you can pass undetected.” Fluttershy leaned forward, sensing this was important. “Undetected by what?” “Security guards or polygraphs. If you’re Fluttershy, then you don’t know anything, so you’re not lying when you say that you don’t know anything. We use it to smuggle you into places.” “Smuggle me where?” “Well, right now we’re in Shanghai.” “Where is that?” “China.” Fluttershy swallowed hard. Yes, this was important. Mick checked his watch. “It’s about time to be going. We have to be there after nightfall, so all the nerds will have gone home for the day. Or at least most of them. Hackers never truly sleep. It doesn’t matter that it’s Christmas Eve.” “Hackers?” Fluttershy asked, getting up. “Electronic bandits. Thieves that don’t need to break into your house to steal your valuables. Total arseholes. It’s the NSA’s job to catch them, patrolling the internet, using digital forensics, jaming with the console cowboys in cyberspace.” “Oh, okay.” Fluttershy nodded. “What’s Christmas?” “A holiday. The Chinese don’t celebrate it, but they do manufacture most of the stuff that people who do buy for the event.” Mick paused, continuing the pack things up, and changed the conversation to a different subject. “We’ve managed to track a major group of hackers to this city. One of them must have gotten a little sloppy and we actually identified the building where they operate.” “What will we do?” Fluttershy asked quietly as she got off the bed and began to help him clean up the room. “The internet is great, but there’s only so much we can do, especially if they’re prepared to counter our hacking. Sometimes we need a backdoor.” “Like…bypassing the main defenses?” “That’s right.” Fluttershy finished packing all the gear that looked like it was sized to fit her. She slung the pack over her shoulders and followed Mick out of the room. The two of them went down the hallway and got into an elevator. Mick pushed the button for the ground floor. There was a few seconds of silence as the elevator started to descend. Quiet music played in the background. Fluttershy shifted a little on her hooves. She looked at the panel of buttons. “Can you hack that?” “Huh?” Mick glanced at the panel. “I suppose so, although if it’s not connected to the internet it would be more difficult.” The entered the hotel lobby, crossed it, and went out the door. The weather was chilly and a few snowflakes drifted down from the night sky. Everywhere Fluttershy looked, there seemed to be a holiday atmosphere. Mick quickly corrected her on that. “Like I said, it may look like Christmas here, but that’s just because they sell it to us.” “Did they…hack Christmas, too?” “Sometimes it seems that way.” Mick sighed, but then smiled. “This is a perfect opportunity for your cover, though. Let’s take a walk and do a little sightseeing.” They strolled down the street looking at the decorations. Fluttershy would occasionally stop and ask Mick if he could hack something. When she asked about a bushel of plastic mistletoe, he sighed with exasperation. They paused at a street corner. Mick looked around and then knelt down to Fluttershy. “Here, I’m going to put this receiver in your ear.” He poked it in carefully, the tufts of hair concealing the small device. “What is it for?” she asked. “I’ll tell you later. Right now, we just need to get you into position.” Mick pointed down the street to where two men in uniform stood. “I want you to walk that direction. Those guys will probably stop you. Just talk to them and be polite.” “Okay.” Fluttershy began to walk, just as she had been instructed. She was a little nervous, but nothing indicated that she was in trouble. Yet, anyway. As she drew even with the men, they stepped towards her and said something in a language she didn’t understand. “I’m sorry?” she asked. One of the men switched to recognizable speech. “Why are you passing in this direction?” “I’m just sightseeing.” It was true, after all. “What is your name?” “Fluttershy.” The two men consulted a small device and appeared to be rapidly poking buttons. Fluttershy wondered if it could be hacked. Based on the trouble they seemed to be having, perhaps it already had. After a few minutes, one of the men turned back to her. “Are you just a tourist? Do you plan to hurt the Chinese government?” “Oh no, I would never hurt anyone!” They continued to give her a critical eye for a few more seconds and then waved her through. Fluttershy continued on her way. “You did well, lass.” said Mick’s voice in her ear. “Don’t give any indication that you can hear me. Just keep walking and take a right on the next street.” Fluttershy did as she was told. Mick continued talking. “Your earpiece has a small GPS beacon in it so I can track you. That will become more difficult as you go along, with interference and such, but I’ll help you as much as I can. Open your bag.” Pausing to take off the backpack, Fluttershy discovered a black suit inside. It was not quite a Dangerous Mission Outfit, lacking the cute bunny ears, but she supposed it looked stealthy enough. With instructions from Mick, she slipped it on, instantly feeling more hackery and secret agenty. “Okay,” said Mick, “Look for the nearby office building. It should be mostly white in color, twelve stories tall, and with a lot of windows. It’s also surrounded by a wall and has soldiers guarding it.” “Oh my,” Fluttershy murmured to herself. She easily spotted the compound he was talking about. “I want you to go inside,” Mick said. Fluttershy nearly squeaked in surprise. “They aren’t expecting a penetration from the air. Actually, they're not expecting a physical penetration at all. That's the beauty of this op - old school gets things done. Nerds don't expect non-internet attacks. Now get going. You’re wearing black and it’s night. You’ll be fine. Just fly to the roof.” Fluttershy gulped and forced her wings to spread. She hesitantly took to the air, carrying the backpack. As predicted, none of the guards looked upward as she drifted overhead. She gently set her hooves on the rooftop. Mick spoke to her again. “There should be a door nearby. It leads down to a bank of cooling systems that keep their security servers in check. If we force the cooling to stop, it should shut down the computers to keep them from overheating. When that happens, our software should be able to get past the security and into their deeper systems.” Fluttershy wasn’t sure how that worked, but decided that the man who spoke the technobabble probably knew what he was talking about. She quietly opened the rooftop door and descended the stairs inside. She realized this must be the literal “backdoor” the NSA was looking for. Mick’s voice was scratchier now, more indistinct. “I need you to find the…” a burst of static cut in “…cooling system. It should be…” more static. Fluttershy poked at her ear, trying to improve the reception. Mick continued. “…bomb. Small one, just a poof, really….trying to see what they’re doing. Something…Equestria Project…interested to know…” That caught Fluttershy’s attention. This must be the server farm where the malware and hacking appearing on the Ponynet was originating from. She had to stop them! While Mick’s directions were unintelligible, Fluttershy decided that to be sure, she had to take out the most pieces of equipment possible. He might have said something about just the small ones, but surely he wouldn’t be mad if she did more than he asked? She carefully moved through the maze of whirring machines, eventually finding a staircase that led lower. On the next floor, there was even more equipment, including tall computer banks and associated gear. Mick’s instructions had gone completely silent by this point. There were large tanks around the room that connected to a network of piping. Fluttershy couldn’t read the foreign labels, but surmised from the pictograms that it contained some sort of coolant, maybe liquid nitrogen. That seemed like something vital to the cooling system. She dug into her backpack, finding a small device with a magnet on one side and an electronic timer on the other. She pressed the button and it started counting down from three minutes. Fluttershy quickly affixed it to the main valve of the piping. She looked around, trying to remember which direction she had come in from. “Oh dear.” Fluttershy’s head whipped around, looking frantically for the stairs. She darted towards the corners of the building, looking for a way off this floor. Finally finding the stairs, she shot up them and then faced another challenge of picking her way through the field of cooling pumps and condensers. She didn’t know how much time was left when she found the door to the roof, and decided the best course of action was to get airborne, and quickly. Seconds after her hooves left the roof, there was a small pop as the detonator she’d planted went off. It was immediately followed by a whoosh as all the pressurized coolant was suddenly released. It flooded the computer rooms, shattering rapidly spinning hard drives and icing motherboards. On the upper floor, the pumps were instantly starved of coolant but hadn’t been able to shut down quickly enough and began to explode in showers of metal fragments. The sudden loss of load on the building’s electrical grid overpowered the remaining floors and they each blew out their circuit boxes with showers of sparks. The whole building, the data is computers contained, and all associated systems, went dark. Everywhere in the city, people looked up from their holiday decorations and turned towards the distant explosions, thinking them festive fireworks. It was the perfect atmosphere for the season. Fluttershy turned to look back at the carnage she’d caused. A smiled played at her lips. “Yay!” And that's how the NSA saved Christmas.
Meanwhile, Pinkie Was an AirmanView OnlineAnd Then, Twilight Was a MarineMeanwhile, Pinkie Was an AirmanThe small room was fairly drab and Pinkie thought it was kind of a ho-hum place to wake up. She was clad in a boring undershirt and the bed sheets weren’t pretty colors or anything. After these observations, however, she came to the logical question of where she was. There was a knock on the door. “Come in!” Pinkie called brightly. A man opened the door. He wore blue uniform trousers and jacket with silver accents. He looked at Pinkie and said, “Captain Pyle, it’s time to go.” “Okie dokie loki,” Pinkie exclaimed, jumping out of bed. “Where are we going?” The man stared at her and then quickly advanced into the room. He reached into the trash can and pulled out an empty bottle. Tied around the neck with a piece of string was a small tag that read A gift for you. “Who gave you this?” he demanded, shaking the bottle at her. The label read Killian’s. Pinkie shrugged. “No idea. I just got here. Why, what is it? Is it some super cool beverage?” The man shook his head. “We’re going to have to call your – I mean, Captain Pyle’s court appearance off. It’s pretty clear that isn’t you.” “You’re right! I’m Pinkie Pie! What’s your name?” She bounded over to him, rearing up to get eye-to-eye. The man took a step backwards. “I’m Major Adams. I’m your attorney.” “Oh, that’s cool! But why would I need a lawyer?” Pinkie rubbed her chin in deep thought. “Is it…because of a contract negotiation for the world’s most law-abiding party?” Adams shook his head. “It’s because-” “No, hang on, I got this,” Pinkie interrupted him. “Is it because somepony was complaining that my parties are too loud and awesome because they’re a total spoilsport and wanted to take a nap instead of coming to have fun?” “No. The Air Force is-” “Is it because I’m being accused of handing some really expensive and important technology over to enemies of the state?” Adams blinked. “Uh, yes, actually. But we can’t do that now, because clearly you aren’t of sound mind.” “Well, a sound mind would just be silly. I mean, your brain can’t just be an incorporeal mass of volume and noise and auditory signals, because how would you think?” “Regardless, I have to go explain why my defendant can’t appear in court today.” Adams shook his head. “They called this special session just for this case. Everyone is going to be so angry that we – that I – wasted their time by calling court so close to Thanksgiving.” “But give thanks!” Pinkie said, wrapping a hoof around his shoulders. “I can totally appear in court today. I just have to pretend to be Captain Pyle, right? What do I have to do? Is Pyle some kind of pilot or something?” “You’re not going,” Adams stated flatly. He shook her off and went out the door, closing it behind him. Turning to walk away, he came face to face with Pinkie, who was decked out in her own Air Force uniform. She adjusted her tie and slipped on a pair of aviators. “Let’s do this!” “How did you…” Adams shook his head. “Look, you can’t go. Not only aren’t you Pyle, but appearing in court as such could have serious negative consequences to this case.” “So I’ll go as myself, explain the situation, and ask them nicely not to be mean to Pyle when he gets back.” Adams narrowed his eyes. “You’re not going to try to fool an entire Judge Advocate General courtroom?” “Nope!” “You’re not trying to harm Captain Pyle’s case or reputation?” “Not even a little!” “No funny business?” “The military is full of unfunny people doing unfunny things.” “That wasn’t a ‘no.’” Pinkie grinned impossibly wide. “Don’t worry. I got your back, Jack.” “How did you know my name was…?” Adams shook his head. “Let’s go, and please don’t talk on the way.” While Pinkie was not completely able to contain herself, she and her lawyer arrived at court on time and reasonably ready to go. Adams set his briefcase down on the defense attorney’s desk and rifled through it for important documents. Pinkie sat down beside him and tried to keep a straight face. There were certainly a lot of serious people in the room. “The court will come to order.” Adams jerked his head up. “Hang on, you can’t do that.” The judge gave him a look that was equal parts ‘are you serious’ and ‘who does this guy think he is’. “Major Adams, we’ve had about enough of your stall tactics on previous days, especially since Captain Pyle was starting to be questioned. Which reminds me; Pyle, take the witness stand.” “Wait!” Adams blurted out. “I need to inform the court that this isn’t Pyle!” That finally got the judge’s attention. He turned his attention to the pony. She politely cleared her throat. “My name is Pinkie Pie.” The prosecutor threw up his hands. “Figures. Adams, I thought you made sure there was no alcohol available to the defendant?” “Yes, Adams,” the judge said acidly. “I thought you were checking for that.” “Yes sir, I did.” Adams grabbed the empty bottle he had found from inside his briefcase. “I wish the court to know that I found this in the defendant’s room. It was marked as a gift. I believe this means someone is trying to sabotage the case, taking advantage of Pyle’s emotional state. Pyle knew what consuming Killian’s would do, but at this point in the proceedings depression might have built to the point that temporary escape looked like an attractive option.” “Who do you think could have planted the bottle?” asked the prosecutor. “Maybe someone related to the UAV Captain Pyle was flying and supposedly handed over to the Chinese.” All eyes went to the speaker, Pinkie. She shrugged. “What? It’s what it said in Major Adams’ notes.” “Regardless of where that drone ended up or which borders it crossed to get there, this is going to tie up the case indefinitely.” The judge glowered at Adams. “And I believe that I will be recommending that Captain Pyle get new legal counsel.” “Objection!” Pinkie shouted, stabbing a hoof at the judge. Once again, all eyes went to her. Adams’ hand went to his face. “Ms. Pie, was it? I’m going to have to ask you to keep quiet,” the judge ordered, banging his gavel. “Sorry, I’m not very good at that,” Pinkie informed him cheerfully. “I am pretty good at making everyone happy, though. Who wants a cupcake?” Amid the judge’s protests, the assembled jurors and witnesses, bored of staring at Pinkie herself, switched their attention to the tray of treats she brandished. None were quite sure where she had gotten them from, but the cupcakes looked real enough and very tasty. “It does make sense that the Chinese would want to tie this case up. After all, we’re trying to prove that Captain Pyle didn’t willingly fly that drone from Afghanistan to China. If Pyle is innocent, then it certainly makes sense that the Chinese might have hacked the drone’s guidance system or something.” Adams’ voice sounded unsure, but if his ploy didn’t work perhaps the court would forget that he had spoken at all while they were distracted with Pinkie’s antics. Pinkie chose that exact moment to speak up, adding to Adams’ argument. “And if the Chinese were behind it, they could have also hacked all those other drones that you could have used to go after the lost drone to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands and doing anything harmful to national security. Don’t you have drones stashed all over Afghanistan in case of a drone emergency?” “That’s it!” Adams cried, diving into his briefcase as the judge again called for order in the court. Speaking over the gavel banging, Adams said, “I have testimony that states other UAV’s in the area were reporting problems at the same time. This could be related and I move that it be examined as evidence.” “I bet the Chinese done it,” Pinkie proclaimed. “Did it,” corrected Adams. “Did-done-doed it.” Pinkie nodded. The court recorder paused for a moment to figure out how to phrase that and continued typing. “Anything else before I unceremoniously throw out all of this out?” muttered the judge, having given up on reclaiming order in the court. The prosecutor and defense attorney glanced at each other before focusing their attention back on Pinkie. She looked at the two of them innocently. “So…when do we start retaliatory bombing?” “Five minutes,” said Twilight, standing over Pinkie as she woke up in the basement of the library. “You were only asleep for five minutes, Pinkie.” “Did you learn anything new that we can correlate with the data we already have?” Rainbow asked. “I’ve already analyzed everything we’ve collected to death,” put in Applejack. “We need something fresh.” “Oh, I’ve got lots of stuff!” Pinkie exclaimed. “Hell yeah!” Rarity pumped a hoof. Everypony looked at her. She ducked her head. “I swear we had better get this problem figured out soon, or I’ll-” “Choke a bitch?” Pinkie provided. There was an uncomfortable silence. Twilight asked, “Do you mean like autoerotic asphyxiation, or-” “No, I mean murder and bloodshed,” Pinkie provided. She grinned. “Of course, a simple choke wouldn’t do that in huge amounts. You’d need knives and swords, guns and cannons, rocket launchers and artillery, huge giant machines of war and nuclear death devices.” “How long have you been having these thoughts?” Rainbow asked, poised to write the answer on the nearby chalkboard. “Hmm.” Pinkie’s nose scrunched in thought. “Last week, I think. Oh yeah, it was totally last week. I remember that I played that cool new videogame on my computer, GTAV.” “Don’t you mean GT AV, that one about killing everyone and stealing their audio-visual equipment?” Applejack asked. “I heard that it’s really violent.” “Oh yeah, it is.” Pinkie nodded. “Where did you get the money?” Rainbow questioned. “Well, you don’t need to pay for stuff if you steal it,” Pinkie pointed out. “The game taught me that. Well, after I stole it online from that one suspicious website, but I’m sure that’s not related.” But it was. Working together, the group of friends crunched the numbers and put data together. With Pinkie’s new eyewitness account added into the mix, all the information was processed and a startling conclusion was reached. They all stood around the chalkboard looking at the answer. It was terrible. It was horrible. It was completely unthinkable, but the facts did not lie. “I don’t believe this,” Twilight whispered. “The Chinese have hacked Equestria.”
