Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow
It sat in the North Atlantic like a giant, glittering pearl the size of Australia. The magical land of Equestria, home to the ponies and not just one, but two living, quantifiable gods.
And their dome. That accursed dome, a barrier of hard radiation; not just thaumic, but fact was, if the other spectrums of radiation didn’t get you, thaumic would. It killed people, melting their organs faster than if they stood in a microwave. It made terrestrially-manufactured technology malfunction more and more with higher concentrations. About the only ones who had absolutely no problems were the natives.
Ponies. Unicorn, pegasus, earth, alicorn. And the other races that Equestria was home to - gryphons, diamond dogs, changelings, dragons. None of them suffered ill effects from the magic, which was a problem.
The dome was growing. Ever so slowly; it advanced, maybe, half a kilometer a year. But it advanced nonetheless, and with every year that passed, humanity lost more and more surface area of their planet.
The solution? The Conversion Bureau Initiative. By blending Equestrian thaumo-science and human technology, and mixing in a good measure of human-brand ingenuity, ponification serum was developed; crafted in labs and administered three ounces at a time to those who wanted a change of lifestyle, human beings became Eqqus Sapiens - Equestrians.
Of course, there were people and ponies alike who disagreed with the alliance. Humans, who believed that the ponies were out to do humanity a mischief. The Human Liberation Front. Ponies who believed that Equestria was on a righteous crusade to bring equine salvation to the Earth. The Ponification for the Earth’s Rebirth movement. Ponies who believed that ponification was a human plot to invade and take over their land, as they had done to themselves so often in the past. Equestria For Equestrians.
Thanks to these dissonant groups, lives had been lost. Families broken. And all for naught, as Equestria continued to grow, and humanity gradually fled to the relative, thaumic safety of equinity and Equestria.
No more, Colonel Avery Johnson of the United States Military had said. He was no spring bud, and he was a career soldier, through and through. He couldn’t adjust to the peace Equestria offered, there was no way, and he felt that there were many who thought the same amongst the human race. He sought a permanent solution. One that would satisfy all parties involved.
He would simply remove Equestria from the face of the Earth. No more Equestria, no more thaumic radiation, only peace. Equestria wasn’t all bad, it’s arrival having unified the world under the Conversion Bureau Initiative, but it was either them, or humanity that would get the axe, and Johnson simply didn’t have the heart to put the hatchet to his own kind.
Still. He wasn’t a complete monster. Morons, idiots; all clamored for the military to drop weapons of mass destruction over Equestria; nuclear, fusion, protoplasmic, viral, antimatter, and more - all had their backers, and setting aside the fact that Equestria rendered even the most failsafe fusion weapons totally inert, only a true psychopath would bring anything that destructive to a race that seemed naturally reluctant to take a path of violence or anger in any given scenario.
No, he’d separate the two worlds with minimal loss of life. At least, that’s what the scientists had told him. He’d checked with them multiple times today, and they’d reassured him each time that the very thing that separated the two worlds would prove to be their salvation.
Twelve tubular weapons; plated in orichalcum, the only thaumic-resistant metal, and equipped with warheads that were arcane fusions of magic and technology, they’d been crafted to cast a spell the scale of which had never been seen before.
Johnson turned around, and surveyed the laboratory from his vantage point in the director’s booth, high above. Below, ponies of a similar mind to his, and some of the finest human minds left on earth were putting the final touches to one of the thaumic dissonators, as they were being called. He saw a splash of violet among the pastel equines, and took a small amount of pride in the fact that he got Twilight motherfucking Sparkle, one of the most promising magical prodigies in known Equestrian history, on his project. She might have been an intern compared to the other ponies and humans who had made a lifetime’s study of their given fields, but none of them could match her for sheer power output and ability to pick up complex theories and sciences, theoretical and thaumic alike, on the fly; they provided the plans, and she carried them out with startling ease. Truly, Princess Celestia had picked her personal protege well.
As if sensing attention on her, Twilight’s head turned and looked up at Johnson in his booth, touching a hoof to her ear.
“What’s up, Colonel Johnson?” she asked pleasantly, her voice distorted a little by the ambient thaumic radiation.
“Nothing much,” Johnson replied. “How are we doing?”
“Exceedingly well,” Twilight replied. “I admit, I wasn’t a fan of contracting Synthetic Design to provide security for this facility, but it’s paid off - no interruptions from anypony or anyone outside of the project has done wonders for our productivity. We should actually be done with final tests in a day or so.”
“Then we can deploy?” Johnson asked.
“Well, you’ll need a way of throwing these missiles at equidistant positions on the barrier of Equestria with absolute precision, but yes - the thaumic dissonators will be ready to be deployed.”
“Don’t worry about deployment,” Johnson dismissed. “Synthetic’s handling that, too. We just need to get the missiles to them, and we’re home free.”
“If you say so. Was there anything else?”
“Not at all, Twilight Sparkle. Thank you for your assistance on this project, you’ve been invaluable. We couldn’t have done it without you.”
“It’s no trouble, really. At least you’re not like the last Colonel I met - Tulip was a certified psychopath. Right idea, very, verywrong particulars. As if I’d ever help him design a thaumic-proof nuclear weapon and smuggle it in.”
The radio clicked off, and Johnson breathed deeply as he watched the salvation of Earth get ever closer to completion.
======
The ship sat in the middle of the calm ocean, anchored just off the East coast of the United States. On the horizon, the dome of Equestria could be seen, a glittering pearl. On the bow, Colonel Avery Johnson stood, clad in full dress uniform as he stood alone, a sea breeze blowing what remained of his hair about and ruffling his gold braids.
“Is everything in order?” he asked, addressing the question to the general radio channel this operation was using.
“Satellite uplink is secure,” a radio officer announced. “Failsafes are reporting no errors. We’re ready to go live when you are.”
[P.A.L.L.A.D.I.O.N. receives you,] a mechanical, neutral voice stated. [Thaumic dissonator payload has been loaded successfully, no additional munitions stored on board orbital strike platform, as ordered. Capable of launching at any time, with three-leader authentication.]
“President of the United States Joseph Rosencruz, reporting in,” an older voice chimed in. “We’re ready here.”
“Dimitri Basilinkov, standing by,” a gruff, Russian accent affirmed. “Russia is ready to give authentication for PALLADION.”
“King Charles,” a measured, clipped British voice added. “We await your signal, Colonel.”
“Chancellor Denn,” a German voice sounded off. “Ve are in order.”
“Princess Celestia and Luna report that everypony who wishes to go with Equestria is assembled,” Twilight Sparkle finally sounded off. “They’re still shouting down my ear about how exactly we plan to separate our worlds, I don’t quite get why. In any case, I’m sitting just outside the barrier right now with Spike; the moment I go in, I’ll lose radio contact.”
“All is going according to plan, then,” Johnson said, smiling. “Everyone, stand by. Twilight, a word in private?”
“Roger that,” Twilight said, and Jonson turned a dial on his earpiece, changing to the private channel so few would hear what he had to say next.
“Twilight Sparkle.”
“Yes, Colonel?”
“Please,” Jonson said. “Call me Avery. I think if anyone’s earned the right for informality, it’s you.”
“You honor me, Avery. Did you have something you wanted to say?”
“I... did,” Avery nodded. “I just wanted to say thanks to you again, from the bottom of my heart.”
“Colonel,” Twilight coughed, briefly forgetting the agreement of a few seconds ago in her surprise at the heartfelt compliment. “It wasn’t just me, you know. There were others, there’s no “I” in team.”
“No, but you made it all happen,” Avery sighed. “Without you, humanity would have been locked into the path of “ponify or die”. Thanks to your power and intellect, we had a choice of a future that didn’t involve four hooves. And, um,” Johnson lowered his voice. “Let’s just say that your presence in the lab made it all worthwhile, whether this plan succeeds or fails.”
“Avery,” Twilight giggled. “Are you saying I’m pretty?”
“Maybe,” Johnson admitted. “Maybe more than that. You’re not just a cute face, you’ve got some brains behind it, a personality I...” Johnson swallowed. “I wish I’d met sooner.”
The radio was silent for a moment, and Twilight broke the silence first.
“You know, it’s not too late. I have a case of potion with me; I was going to keep it as a memento of our work here on Earth, but... I think I can spare three ounces if it was you, Avery.”
Johnson almost broke right then and there. The plan no longer needed him, it just needed someone to call the shot. He could delegate, grab a chopper, fly out to Twilight, bail out and parachute down to the lavender mare, and she’d give him a dose of her purple drink, and-
Avery Johnson sighed, and shook his head. “No, Twilight. I wish I could take you up on that, but... I’d be a neanderthal out of time in Equestria. There’s no place for an old war dog like me there.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Twilight scoffed. “There’s plenty of ex-human military over here, and they’ve all adjusted well; if you still can’t shake the military itch, there’s always a place in the Guard for somepony with your experience to help you scratch it. I can guarantee it.”
“No,” Johnson said, strengthening his resolve. “I started this project, it’s my duty to see it through to the end, and I can’t do that from inside the dome.”
Twilight was silent, then, “Very well. I wish you nothing but the best for your future, Avery. And, well...” There was a pause. “If you ever find yourself in Ponyville, somehow... look me up?”
Johnson chuckled. “Of course. Thank you, Twilight.”
“Thank you, Avery,” Twilight responded. “This has been for the most part, a blast.”
There was a click as Twilight switched back to the main channel, and Johnson followed, just in time to hear her last words to humanity.
“I guess this is the end,” Twilight Sparkle said quietly. “As the last Equestrian to set hoof on Earth, I feel like I should say something meaningful here... I know.” Twilight cleared her throat. “Equestrians and humans haven’t always seen eye-to-eye, I know that. We’ve all faced some sort of strife in the few years we’ve been together, and today, that all ends.” Twilight swallowed audibly. “I hope things go as planned, or I’m going to look like a right foal, aren’t I?” Twilight chuckled. “In the end, though... I wouldn’t have traded this experience for anything, I think. I’m personally honored to have met humans, and I’m sure I’m not the only Equestrian that would say that.”
Twilight paused. “I remember my early days in the Bureaus; I wasn’t nearly as eloquent, I feel, didn’t know when to cut a speech short - but I’ve learned since then, and I don’t think there’s much else to say, really. Except this: This is Ambassador Twilight Sparkle, Student of Princess Celestia and Element of Magic of Equestria, saying farewell to Earth and Humans; over and out.”
The radio went silent, and with a crackle of static, died.
There was complete silence for a moment, save for the lapping of water against the sides of the ship. Johnson looked out at the dome and the setting sun behind it, breathed a deep breath of salty air, and touched two fingers to his ear.
“Attention, everypo- everyone.” Johnson cleared his throat. “Prepare to commence Operation Flying Moses.”
======
High above the surface of the earth, a single human-made satellite spun slowly, attitude thrusters easily keeping it aligned on the sole target it had.
Thick stencilled letters along the fuselage spelt a nine-letter word: PALLADION. Twelve long barrels sat just below that, carrying twelve unique munitions; if all went as planned, they were going to be the last of their kind ever seen by earthling eyes.
PALLADION beeped softly as a third signal was received, this time bearing the digital signature of the King of England - authentication number three. The tubes holding the thaumic dissonators clunked quietly in the void of space.
[P.A.L.L.A.D.I.O.N. orbital weapons platform, now firing,] the AI-controlled machine stated, and with no further ado, fired it’s unique payload earthwards, aiming for a glittering dome in the middle of the ocean. The exact targets were to be just outside the barrier, with allowed deviation of no more than five metres permitted for total success in sending Equestria back where it came from.
PALLADION didn’t need to double-check. He was, as always, pinpoint precise, and this day was no exception.
With twelve synchronized streaks of flame, twelve techno-thaumic warheads shot towards their targets, and with barely a splash, shot straight into the ocean. Blue electricity flared, and a familiar, magenta dome of magic began to encapsulate Equestria.
The end was nigh.
======
“You WHAT?” Celestia said, alarmed.
Twilight was standing before a rather irritable Celestia and Luna in the Canterlot Castle throne room.
“I infused the warheads with Starswirl’s Thaumic Centrifuge,” Twilight repeated herself, scared by Celestia’s sudden display of emotion. “If this is about solutions to send us back, that was the only one.”
“Twilight!” Celestia exclaimed, getting up. “You should have talked to me first!”
“Why?” Twilight shrugged. “I did my research, the runes are flawless. The spell will cast successfully, the largest ever casting of any spell.”
“No, Twilight, that’s not it,” Celestia shook her head. “I have the utmost confidence that you can cast it correctly. The problem is,” Celestia closed her eyes. “It will not separate our worlds like you intend; if it did, we would have cast it ourselves much sooner than this.”
Twilight felt her gut twist. “Then... what...?”
“You have removed Equestria from Earth,” Celestia explained. “In this, you have succeeded. Nothing will change that. But, as they say, “nature abhors a vacuum”. That is the same here as it was on earth - the dome was no natural phenomenon, that was Luna and I holding back the innate, ambient thaumic radiation of Equestria from flowing out into the magicless world of Earth, slowing its growth; it was designed to conduct the very spell you have just arranged to cast, as well, but we did not cast it, because... when we remove ourselves from this world, we also abandon the dome, which will fade in seconds.”
“And...?”
“The dome will collapse,” Celestia said, plainly. “All the radiation that we stopped flowing into Earth from Equestria will be released in one fell swoop. And no,” Celestia said sadly, “There was not enough to cause an immediate extinction event. That would have taken another decade’s worth of accumulated radiation, at least. If we had left as soon as we had arrived, we would only have rendered a fraction of the world uninhabitable. But now... the global thaumic radiation levels will climb to an ambient level too high for humans to survive unaffected. I wish I could say it will be fast, but... it will not.”
Twilight was shellshocked into silence, and she sat down heavily, devastated.. “Does that mean we... I just... no.” Twilight choked. “I... I didn’t mean to-”
“The fault is not yours alone, Twilight Sparkle,” Luna chimed in, trying to be heard over Twilight’s sobbing. “It was primarily our fault; we neglected to keep you informed of what we had tried; we did not expect you to launch your own efforts to do what we had considered years ago.”
“That doesn’t change anything,” Twilight wept. “I... I’ve...” she looked at Celestia, who couldn’t bear to not meet her student’s red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes - barely ten seconds into life after the knowledge that she’d done the world a grave injustice, and already the guilt was insurmountable. “I promised Avery that nopony and nobody would be harmed, and... and...” Twilight hiccuped. “I’ve unequivocally, indisputably killed all of humanity. I’ve committed genocide!”
======
From a purely objective standpoint, the explosion was impressive. The pulse of light that accompanied Equestria’s departure from this universe was observable from the other side of the milky way... in about a hundred thousand years’ time, of course.
On a more local scale, the light briefly dwarfed even that of the Sun, for all three seconds it lived.
Humans and ponies all around the world felt the explosion, sensed a weight upon the earth being lifted, and cheered as they felt a fresh, salty breeze wash over them; reporters covering the operation live reported it’s success in realtime even as the on-scene reporters lamented their temporary blindness.
Then the screaming started. Ponies jumped in terror as the humans all around them burst into lilac flames, all parties involved screaming for a merciful god to save or spare the victims from the prolonged suffering.
No gods answered. The only gods humankind had ever known had left with Equestria.
Only one human did not scream or even falter. Even as the very ship he stood on crumbled and mouldered into dust beneath him, as the seas boiled and turned to vapor as it was reconstituted into a land not unlike what had been promised beyond the barrier; even as flames licked at him and his dress uniform, Colonel Avery Johnson remained upright.
Even as radiation reduced his eyes to blackened, decayed flesh, he stared at where Equestria had once stood. His lungs burned as he felt the familiar pain and regret that was unique to leaders - that of leading followers into danger, or worse. Even the fact that he’d not intended for any of this to happen, that it must be a freak accident, couldn’t stop it.
One last thought crossed his brain before the spark of life was snuffed out:
The road to hell is paved with the best of intentions.
