Railroad Seven-Three

by Defoloce

3. Chesapeake

Home in the darkness
Home on the highway
Home isn't my way
Home I'll never be

-Blue Öyster Cult, “Burning for You”

---

The gray-blue fog coming in off of the bay prevented Railroad 7-3 from seeing even a hundred feet ahead. The final six miles to the Chesapeake were a torturous crawl of negotiating husks and wrecks of cars. Broken glass was everywhere on the road, glittering weakly in the truck's off-road lights, and it crunched and popped beneath the tires as they inched along.

The quiet and the closeness of the air was getting to Melody. She had never been claustrophobic as a human, but something was running through her now, an aching restlessness in her wings and a desire to break free of the enveloping mist. She looked at the others. Her fellow ponies seemed calm enough, given the circumstances, and Balthazar looked downright relaxed. The man was sitting on the ammunition crate, reclining against the back of the cab with his black assault rifle cradled in one arm.

She bit her lip. Was something wrong with her?

"You all right?" asked Gavel with a prod of his hoof. Melody startled a little and nodded hurriedly.

"She's spooked," said Balthazar. "It's plain as day." He pulled his baseball cap off, scratched an itch on the back of his head, and put it back on. "Pegasi don't like the sensation of being confined."

Gavel tossed him a sour look, and he shrugged. "Am I wrong?"

Sugar Spoon scooted away from Melody to give her some space. "Is there anything we can do to help you feel better, Mel?" she asked. A small smile materialized on her dark-green face. "Maybe a little carb therapy?"

Melody looked up from her red hooves. "Carb therapy?"

Sugar Spoon giggled. "Look in your bag," she said.

The red pegasus nosed her complimentary Conversion Bureau travel sack open and saw, to her delight, a single glazed cinnamon roll sitting atop a stack of books. Her eyes lit up.

"A Cinammon Eye-Roll!" she squealed, rolling onto her side to be able to reach Sugar Spoon's chin for a nuzzle.

"One last one for the road," she said. "I made one for Gavel and me, too."

The gray earth-pony smiled. "Well hay, let's dig in and eat them together!"

Needing no second bidding, the three ponies pulled their treats out of their bags and began devouring them. Balthazar watched them for a moment, then looked out into the fog.

"'Cinnamon Eye-Rolls'?" he asked. "Doesn't sound too appetizing."

"They're called that because they're so good they make your eyes roll with pleasure," said Gavel between bites.

Melody proffered her roll—now crescent-shaped from the bite taken out of it—to Balthazar, holding it out in her mouth. "Here, Howhahar," she said. "Hry it!"

The lean young man recoiled a bit. "No thanks, you go ahead."

Melody put her roll down. "Your loss. They're really good!"

"Aw, Balthazar is scared of pony-cooties, is that it?" teased Sugar Spoon. Gavel chuckled.

Balthazar frowned. "If that were true, then constantly being around ponies would be an odd choice for me to spend my time running out the clock."

Gavel raised his head, a bit of glaze still on the corner of his mouth. "What do you mean by that?"

Balthazar studied Gavel for a moment. "Fine," he said at last.

He pause for a moment, considering whether or not to continue. "Do you know where it is calculated that the very last piece of Earth will disappear into the Barrier?" he asked.

Gavel looked at him, uncomprehending.

The young man turned to Sugar Spoon. "Do you, Equestria?"

"I have a name," she said sharply.

"Tasmania," said Balthazar. "The antipodal point of the Barrier's epicenter is Tasmania. The Barrier has erased Ireland, Britain, Portugal, Spain, Morocco, and most of France already. Belgium is standing by to be erased and it's knocking on Delaware's door now too. Dover's already had to close their Bureau because humans can't stay that close to all of that magical shit the Barrier's flinging out. Anyway, as it swallows up humanity, we'll all be chased to Tasmania, where..." He shrugged and let out a single, mirthless chuckle. "...where I guess we'll die of magical poisoning and then get ground up into dust."

"That... that doesn't make any sense!" said Sugar Spoon. "Just get ponified and you'll be okay!"

Balthazar was already shaking his head. "You don't understand, Equestria. We've made passenger runs to the coast eight times already, and ponies from the other side never understand."

Sugar Spoon frowned. "But I'm not them," she said. "Try me."

"Don't get me wrong," said the man. "I'm not trying to imply you're stupid. You just... you don't have the perspective needed to understand. I'd rather die than become a pony, and why that is is not something I can explain to you."

"Sounds like HLF talk to me," murmured Gavel.

"Yeah, well, we're not HLF," said Balthazar. "As long as you're with us, you're safe. Like Mel said, reputation is everything now. We'll get you where you want to go. Besides, just because a human wants to hang onto their humanity doesn't mean they're HLF."

"Why don't you want to get ponified, Balthazar?" asked Melody, cocking her head slightly.

The man's voice quieted almost to a whisper. "It ain't for people like us," he said.

Sugar Spoon snorted. "Horseapples!" She said. "I know you've heard Princess Celestia's broadcasts, seen the advertisements. You've read the brochures, right? Ponification is for everypony! All are welcome!"

"Celestia doesn't understand, either," he said. "It's almost funny to see someone supposedly as wise and all-knowing as her miss the mark on something like this. And what was all that nonsense back at the Bureau about her watching us, smiling down on us?" He snorted. "Doesn't matter if it's Equestria or Earth, if you ask me; the folks in charge are fumbling around in the dark at this point, just like everyone else."

He turned to Gavel with a genuine smile. "Isn't that right, senator?"

Gavel sighed and lowered his head. Melody looked over at the earth-pony.

"'Senator'?"

"Paul Lancaster, senior senator from the Great State of Idaho," answered Balthazar for him. He looked to Sugar Spoon with a cocky smile on his face. "Back when there was a government to speak of, Senator Lancaster here voted 'yea' on a bill to seize unwilled assets left behind by familes moving to Equestria. Of course, the people leaving Earth didn't care what happened to their cars and houses, so it seemed a shoo-in bill, but as folks started realizing that Celestia was serious about the Barrier expansion thing, well... suddenly Uncle Sam had all this money and nothing to spend it on.

"And, I do believe," he continued, tapping his chin, "that's around the time that Congress started trading in their slush funds for hooves themselves. Senator Lancaster here's one of—if not the—last holdout of authority left in the legislative branch."

Gavel scowled at him. "It's in the past," he said. "I've changed."

"I don't have much difficulty believing that."

"No, not just the body!" he let out a breath and collected himself. "All right, so you know something about governments, son?"

Balthazar turned his head away to squint into the fog. "I keep my finger on the pulse of who's coming into the DC Bureau, that's all."

"Do you know who the first world leader to get ponified was?"

Still looking away, Balthazar said "No idea. The Queen of England?"

"Close: Queen Rania of Jordan. She went to the Bureau in Zurich, the very first one to open in the eastern hemisphere. She's a unicorn now, and I hear that Queen Rania—well, Sharing Smiles, these days—has her own little chocolate shop in Thistlespring.

"As for your guess," said Gavel with a smile, "Elizabeth the Second now makes crossword puzzles for Fetlock's newspaper. She even brought her corgis with her to Equestria."

Balthazar shifted on the ammo crate, fiddling with his rifle, trying not to look at the senator-turned-pony. "Why're you telling me all this?" he asked.

"Son, maybe Equestrian ponies don't understand what you're getting at, but I do," said Gavel.

The truck began to turn, then dipped off-road again. The truck bed rocked and jostled about, and the ponies splayed out their legs to keep from rolling around. Melody blinked, the movement jarring her back into remembering the fog.

Balthazar slid over to the starboard side of the truck and leaned out, squinting at a murky, square white shape slipping by silently.

"Those were the toll booths," he said, standing up. "We've reached the bridge."

* * *

Conversation died on the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. Balthazar was tense, remaining standing in the back of the pickup, his rifle aimed forward and resting between two of the off-road lights on the roof. Nothing could be seen, though. There was only the gray curtain that seemed to move with them, the smell of salt, and a gentle sloshing of water against the support pylons far below.

The bridge connecting the two shores of the bay actually consisted of two separate bridges, each a little over four miles long with two lanes headed in one direction. Dead traffic had clogged the northern, westbound bridge with the human exodus from the coast, so the eastbound bridge was now the only way to traverse the bay on foot or land vehicle. Fortunately, Railroad 7-3 was able to pick up a little speed on the bridge, and they started making better time.

Melody studied Balthazar's face as they moved further out over the bay. His eyes had grown steely and distant, and she could see the muscles at the corner of his jaw pulse in and out as he ground his teeth. He seemed like a completely different person now, even given his rather caustic attitude before. Instinct told Melody that now was not the time to be loud.

"Balthazar," she whispered.

Just like Gaspar, the man didn't look away while he was scanning. "Yeah?" he whispered back.

"If you got ponified, I think you'd make a very handsome stallion."

Balthazar smiled. "Well now, something new!" he whispered. "You know, every delivery, a pony gives me the pitch. Equestria's been pitched to me a dozen times and in a dozen ways, and this is the first time someone's tried flattery."

The young man looked at her out of the corner of his eye. The pegasus was looking down, her ears drooping. He went back to watching the road ahead.

"It was nice of you to say," he said quietly, "but maybe you're starting to realize why it ain't for me."

The truck suddenly slowed down hard, causing Melody to slide forward. Balthazar stuck out a leg and cushioned her stop, keeping her nose from hitting the cab.

As the pickup came to a halt, a knocking came on the back window of the cab. Sugar Spoon opened the sliding window with her magic. Melchior's face peeked out from behind the tinted glass.

"You'll be happy to know that the brakes work," deadpanned Balthazar.

"Dispatch called," said Melchior, ignoring the comment. "I've got bad news and I've got worse news."

"Bad news?" asked Gavel. The truck's engine shut off. Gaspar was already getting out with a canvas satchel and a small spool of brown insulated wire. He jogged ahead of the truck, disappearing into the mist after only a few steps.

"Some weather pegasi operating out of Baltimore just told Railroad Seven-Two that an HLF technical is roadblocking this bridge. They saw it from the air."

"What's the worse news?" asked Sugar Spoon.

"This fog we're in? Those ponies put it down to keep the technical from being able to shoot at any air-carriages. The carriages have been diverted north, though, so now they've been ordered to lift the fog again."

"A technical?" said Balthazar. "You think they've got a fifty, then?"

"We're already a mile onto the bridge," said Melchior. "If they're on the bridge too, then they wouldn't even need a fifty to hit us once this fog is up. And if they do have a fifty..." She shook her head.

Balthazar nodded. "...then we're gonna get melted." He picked up his rifle and hopped over the side of the pickup bed.

"Melted?" said Sugar Spoon, her eyes growing large. "That doesn't sound good." She looked to her fellow ponies.

Melchior got out of the truck as well and shut the door quietly. "It isn't good," she said. "Gaspar was tellin' me in the truck that he and the Cordon guys dug several fifty-caliber bullets out of the carriage's hull while we were patching folks up. That means a heavy machine gun, which is serious hardware this close to the Barrier."

Balthazar nodded. "These're probably the boys who shot down the carriage," he said. "We don't have enough fuel to turn around and swing up through Baltimore and then make it the rest of the way; we'll have to go through them."

Sugar Spoon felt her heart start to beat harder. "Wait... w-wait. 'Through' them? You mean fighting, right? Combat?"

The man smiled a little. "Sure do, Equestria."

"Just stay behind the truck, and keep low," said Melchior as she lowered the tailgate. "I already told you that nobody's gonna be shooting at you. Us, maybe, but not you. This ain't our first time to the rodeo." She winked and pulled her own rifle out through the open window of the truck.

At that, the three ponies hopped down from the truck bed and tucked themselves under the tailgate.

"Wait," said Melody, "if you have a radio, just call and ask the pegasi not to remove the fog!"

Melchior shook her head. "They've already taken off from Baltimore, and they don't exactly use radios themselves," she said.

Balthazar knelt down by the pickup, looking Melody in the eyes. "You're a pegasus," he said. "Can you fly?"

"I..." She shook her head slowly. "I can't."

"Have you tried?"

Melody's mouth moved, but she said nothing.

Balthazar set his rifle down on the asphalt and put a hand on her shoulder. "Melody, listen to me," he said. "You've got to try and get above the fog and stop those pegasi from pulling it away. No time like the present to learn."

"I can't!" she blurted.

The man spoke slowly and calmly. "I know you're scared, but you can really help us out. All of us." He gestured to Sugar Spoon and Gavel. "They're your friends, right? You'd be helping them too. You'd be making it a lot safer for us. We know they're here, but they don't know we're here, and as long as we have this fog, we have the advantage."

"Y-yeah, I get it, but—"

"Give it a try, Mel," whispered Gavel.

"Yeah," said Sugar Spoon. "I believe in you!"

"I don't know how easy or hard it is to fly," said Balthazar, still keeping her gaze, "but I've seen pegasi do some crazy shit in the air, so there has to be some natural ability in that body of yours. Just... do what feels right. Or natural, or whatever."

Melody let out a nervous giggle and nodded. "If I don't, we're all dead anyway, right?"

"Hey now!" said Balthazar, picking his rifle back up and standing. "Don't sell us short over here!"

Melody moved out from under the tailgate and looked up into the gray, extending her wings. She closed her eyes and felt the thickness of the air, the mist on her feathers, and the very mild currents of the salty bay breeze in her mane. They caressed her wings, driving a thrill into her, melting the claustrophobia from her mind. Every minute shift in the air registered with her sensitive wings, and as she began to flap, she could almost feel the sky bending to her will. She felt lighter, and lighter, and lighter still, and when she opened her eyes, her hooves were free of the bridge.

"You did it!" cried Gavel, and Melchior promptly shushed him.

"That's great, but we don't know how close we are to the bad guys," she said.

"You're doing great, just keep it up!" hissed Sugar Spoon.

Elated, Melody flapped harder, finding climbing to be easier when she did so rhythmically, like talking a walk and having her steps match the beat of a song on her MP3 player. Crazily, at that thought, "Stayin' Alive" by the Bee Gees began to play in her head, and her wingbeats changed tempo to match. She giggled quietly to herself. In a way, she really was trying to stay alive.

The afternoon sun struck her face, glorious and warm. Her eyelids fluttered, and when the little red pegasus looked down, there was just a white cottony floor beneath her. She had climbed through the fog without even realizing it!

She tried to rein in her glee and keep her wits about her. She had to find those other pegasi, she reminded herself. She began looking around, shielding her eyes with a hoof.

Three dark specks were coming out of the horizon, and as they neared, she could see they were flying in formation. It was them! It looked, however, as though they wouldn't be passing by close to her, so she started waving all four hooves as she flapped, calling out to them once she was able to make out their colors.

"Hey!" she shouted. "Hey, ponies! Over here! Hello!"

One of the pegasi peeled off from the formation and shot towards her, seemingly too fast to stop. Melody could think to do nothing but hover there and curl up into a ball, waiting for impact.

A whoosh of wind buffeted her about, but there was no impact. She uncurled and looked up, surprised to see a pegasus stallion in a flight suit hovering there just a couple of feet away from her.

"A newfoal!" he said in a surprised tone. "What're you doing up here? There's HLF down on the bridge an—"

"I know!" she said. "There's two other ponies and three humans down there on the bridge right below me! You need to let the fog stay! Hurry and tell the others!"

The stallion blinked, then whirled around in time to see the other two pegasi start to drag the misty fog in their wake a hundred meters away. Putting a hoof into his mouth, he whistled sharply twice, signaling them to abort. The two pegasi broke off, releasing the trail of fog, which settled into its new position.

As the other two weather-pegasi joined them, Melody let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you," she said. "Thank you so much."

"You should take this opportunity to turn back," said the stallion, pulling his flight goggles up off his eyes. "We can't do too much to help you against HLF fighters as we are right now."

"That's fine, that's..." she thought about the humans down below and decided not to go into details. "You've done plenty. Thank you."

The stallion nodded once, then turned to his wingponies. "Come on," he said. "We're RTB." He gave Melody a crisp salute and then banked hard, the other two falling in behind him in a V formation.

As they disappeared back behind the sun's rays, Melody realized how hard she was breathing. Her wings began to slow, and she started to sink. Panic set in, and she set to flailing, unable to keep herself aloft.

She slipped down through the clouds (wasn't she supposed to be able to perch on them? she wondered), her descent becoming more rapid. She let out a keening wail of terror as her fatigued new wings gave out completely, causing her to plummet, disoriented and fear-stricken, through the uncaring gray shroud.

She landed roughly, but not roughly enough for it to have been asphalt. She opened an eye and saw Gavel and Sugar Spoon staring agog at her a couple of feet below. She then turned in the other direction to see Balthazar's cold-eyed stare right next to her nose.

He had caught her.

Melchior leaned over. "Fog's still here, so I guess you did it!" she said.

She was set down gently, quickly sidling away from Balthazar, not looking at him. She slowly folded her sore wings up against her sides.

"I... it was such a lucky break!" she said, breathless. "I was up there, and I was just lookin' around, and then suddenly I see these—"

Three muted cracks slid through the air like the sound of two hands clapping far away. Balthazar and Melchior instantly turned and ran up to the pickup, opening both doors to the cab and taking cover behind them. Melchior looked over her shoulder and gestured for the ponies to get back behind the truck.

"That's gunfire," hissed Balthazar. "Stay covered."

Gaspar's huge silhouette appeared in the mist ahead. He was running. He slid to a stop behind Balthazar on the driver's side and tossed his satchel back into the extended area of the cab behind the seats.

"Clays are up," he said, "but they saw me. Some of the fog got pulled off the bridge up ahead. There's three of 'em, and yeah, one's on a fifty-cal."

Melody winced as she heard it. She gritted her teeth. Damn it, she hadn't been fast enough! If only she hadn't been such a scaredy-pony, they wouldn't have lost the element of surprise!

She felt a hoof on her back. Gavel was there, giving her a reassuring smile. Somehow, ponies knew.

"So they're coming," said Melchior.

Gaspar nodded. "Ears on, high ready," he said.

The three humans took the headsets from around their necks and fit them over their ears. Once they were in place, Balthazar and Melchior brought their rifles up and rested them in the windows of the open doors. Gaspar moved to the back of the pickup, and the ponies could see he had his own weapon ready.

"There's gonna be shooting, and gunshots are loud sons-of-bitches," he said grimly. "Cover your ears and wait for instructions."

Sugar Spoon swallowed hard and tried to bury herself in the asphalt, pinning her ears down against her head with her hooves. "Oh Celestia, Luna, Celestia, Luna, Sun and Moon, Sun and Moon..." she chanted in a whisper.

More claps and pops. Weird, miniscule thumps could be felt in the pavement from the force of the gunfire. Gavel wept a tear. Sugar Spoon kept on chanting.

"Vault of the sky, vault of the sky, show us your grace, show us your grace..."

The Railroad was shouting. Melody couldn't make it out with her ears covered. More shooting. Gavel could feel the vibrations of the gunfire in his teeth.

"Horn and wing, hoof and mane, horn and wing, hoof and mane..."

Other voices now. Angry voices. Huge booms kicked up road-dust even in the moist air of the fog. The truck above them shuddered rhythmically, the tires burping out tiny screeches of pain as they moved.

"Beseech thee now to end this pain, beseech thee now to end this pain."

All went quiet. The tangy, smoky smell of spent cordite filled the air. Sugar Spoon gagged on it a bit. Gavel felt a rough hand tap his head, and he craned his neck around to see Balthazar's face, his headset back down around his neck.

"Gaspar's dead," he said. "He was manning the clays. I need you to step up."

Melody's jaw dropped. "Dead?" she whispered.

He snapped his head up to bore a hole in her with his eyes. "No time for mourning, we're not out of this yet," he said. Not waiting for a response, he looked back to Gavel and held out a small, simple-looking device made of green plastic.

"Okay, senator," he said. "This here's the clacker to the Claymore mines Gaspar set up ahead of the truck. The fog's still ahead of us a ways, but we couldn't get them to advance into the mines. Come to the front with me and keep that clacker ready. The mine's hidden behind a light post on the left side of the road. When you see them reach the light post, step down twice—rapidly—on this thing and it'll make the bad men go away."

Gavel stood there, frozen. Balthazar shook him firmly.

"Hey, snap out of it!" he said. "Do you copy me, senator?"

"I... I..."

"Good enough. Come on. You two stay here."

Balthazar jogged back to the front of the pickup, leaving Gavel to look at the green thing on the ground in front of him. He gingerly picked it up in his mouth and stumbled after the human.

Gaspar's corpse lay on the shoulder of the road, belly down, his face mercifully turned away from the ponies. Gavel felt several new tears slide down his cheeks.

"Right here," whispered Balthazar, kneeling and waving Gavel to a spot directly behind him. "Stay behind me. If the HLF boys even see the silhouette of a pony they'll go apeshit."

Gavel looked across the front of the truck to see Melchior there, her rifle trained ahead, her face set and determined.

"C'mon, let's talk this out!" came a gruff male voice from behind the curtain ahead. "We got no beef with brothers and sisters."

Balthazar, still kneeling, lowered his rifle slowly. "We're not with your cause, we were just trying to pass through," he said. "Then you had to go and open up on us. I think you can appreciate our caution now."

"Just a little jumpy, you know?" said the voice. "Nerves is all."

"We get any of your guys?" asked Melchior.

Gavel swallowed. Was he going nuts? Were the humans really talking about this?

"One," came the voice.

"So we're even," said Balthazar. "You gonna let us by if we play ball?"

A pause. "Absolutely, brother."

"Get ready," whispered Balthazar to the earth-pony. The young man set his rifle down on the road and stood up, putting his hands behind his head.

"I'm unarmed," he said. "I'm moving forward so you can see me," he said. "You do the same."

"Comin' up," came the voice again. Seconds seemed to tick by over minutes. Gavel was certain his breathing could be heard out across the bay. Blood thundered in his ears. The clacker waited patiently by his right forehoof.

A human outline took form on the periphery of visible space, then another. Two stood there in silhouette, shifting dark-gray shapes of men holding what were quite easily firearms.

They were standing by the slim vertical line denoting the lamppost. Balthazar cocked his head slightly, catching Gavel's attention.

"Hit it," he whispered.

Gavel lifted his hoof over the clacker, and it froze there. He couldn't. He knew the fact as simply as his date of birth and the name of his wife. He would not be able to step down. He could not kill those men.

"I can't!" he hissed.

Balthazar stalled for time. "Hey, gents, that's not very sporting! I know you can see me, what's with the heaters over there?"

Gavel looked to Melchior, pleading with his eyes. She wouldn't meet his gaze.

"We're just makin' sure you're not trying to pull a fast one on us, calm down," said one of the shapes. They shifted their weight, about to take a step forward.

Balthazar slid to one side, exposing the pony to the men directly, and Gavel's eyes widened.

"What the shit!" shouted one of the man-shapes.

"They're fuckin' pony-lovers!" shouted the others. The rifles went to their shoulders. Even then, Gavel couldn't snuff out their lives. It was beyond the pale to even consider if he could.

Balthazar spun and lifted Gavel easily, carrying him back through the concealing gray wall. The shapes disappeared again.

"Son of a bitch! When we find you, pony-lover, we're gonna—"

An earsplitting pow sounded out across the bridge, and oily white smoke billowed into the space in front of the pickup. Melchior withdrew and rendezvoused with the others at the back of the truck.

"Everyone okay?" she asked. "Everyone got their fingers and toes?"

"Not funny," wheezed Sugar Spoon. Melchior gave a devilish grin and ran ahead again, disappearing.

"H-how did that happen?" asked Gavel. "I-I didn't... I never even touched the—"

"Tripwire," said Balthazar, kneeling by the ponies. The clays were set to go off from a tripwire all along. The clacker isn't a remote control; it has to be wired straight to the mines. You could have stepped on that thing all day and the mines wouldn't have gone off."

The earth-pony looked at the lean man, horrified. "Then why did you—"

"I had to see, all right?" Balthazar snapped. "I had to see if what they say is true."

"What they say?" asked Melody.

The man turned to her. "That ponies can't kill," he said. "That they can't willingly hurt others, not even if inaction would cost them their lives. I had to pressure the senator here, I had to make him think only he could protect us."

He sighed. "I fucked with you, senator, and for that, I really am sorry. But I just kept hearing it, and... and I had to see for myself."

Gavel was trying to work up some anger, but he was still just too confused. "What does it matter?" he cried. "I'm going to Equestria, son, a place that doesn't have HLF or whatchamacallit mines or fifty-cals or anything like that! Why in the world would it matter if a pony could kill or not?"

Balthazar shot to his feet, towering over them. "Because it's what we do!" he shouted. He lifted his rifle, holding it out with one hand. "Do you know what this is? It's a Galil, model AR, manufactured in Israel. It fires the five-five-six by forty-five millimeter cartridge, also known as five-five-six NATO. Its detachable box magazine holds thirty-five rounds and it operates via a long-stroke gas piston design adapted from the Kalashnikov family of rifles, of which my dead friend Gaspar here used to use.

"What in the good goddamn is any of that knowledge going to do me over in Equestria? Huh?"

The ponies shrank away from him, their ears against their necks. Melchior came jogging up.

"The one that Gaspar tagged is still alive," she said.

Balthazar looked up at her. "You sure about that?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah, he was laying still, but he was moaning a bit and had—"

"Might wanna check again," said Balthazar, even quieter. Melchior let out a breath, nodded slowly, and walked back into the fog.

Balthazar looked back to the ponies. "Let's take a field trip," he said. "I want to show you guys something." A gunshot rang out from the grayness. He didn't even acknowledge it.

The young man walked ahead, to where the carnage had taken place. Now rather frightened of him, the ponies tried to resist, but theirs was a herd, and the herd leader had started to move. To Melody and Gavel, it was strange, but also unnervingly right to do it. Guidance, direction, confidence: it was infectious.

He stopped at one of the bodies that had been caught in the Claymore, now a shredded mess of red flesh and flayed clothing. Balthazar turned the body over with a foot and pulled the man's wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. He flipped the wallet open, looked at it for a moment, flashed a joyless smile at it, and then showed it to the ponies.

"I should hope you know what this is, senator," he said to Gavel.

Gavel looked at the slain human's photo ID. "It's a CAC card," he said, "a military ID."

"Ferris Gartner, United States Marine Corps," said Balthazar, letting the wallet drop from his hand. "Once upon a time, he and I were on the same side. That was before Equestria came along, of course."

"You knew this man?"

"Of course not! But we were comrades in arms. I was 82nd Airborne, senator. Gaspar was a Marine, and Melchior was a Navy Seabee. Are you seeing a pattern here? Are you wondering how I'd know that a perfect stranger would have DoD plastic on him?"

Gavel lowered his head a bit. Melody and Sugar Spoon looked at the earth-pony curiously.

"We're prior-service!" he shouted. "All of us out here are! All of us! HLF, PER moles, Railroad, Cordon, good guys, bad guys, we were all military, and do you know why? Because we're the only bastards crazy enough, dedicated enough, to do what we do in the shadow of that god-damned fucking Barrier! The jagged edge, where people who actually give a damn about their lives don't tread! Two years ago, I would have laid down my life for this man, and now he's the one who has to give me the red mist! You're alive because he's dead, and the hell of it is that you can't even fucking appreciate it. Especially you, Equestria."

Sugar Spoon moved her head from side to side, trying to think of something to say. Melchior slipped back in, having heard the outburst, hugging her elbows to herself.

"Why... didn't you become HLF, then, if you hate ponies so much?" she asked at last.

"There but for the grace of God go I," said Balthazar. "If only one or two things in my life had been different, I could very easily see myself as having gone HLF. I didn't, though."

"So what are we supposed to do, huh? I was out! I was a year into college on the GI Bill, but then all... all this shit... happened, and suddenly we don't need systems analysts, we don't need park rangers, we don't need cops or airline pilots or fucking ditch-diggers because hey! A new life awaits in Equestria, come one come all, except for one very specific kind of person, that is. There's only one thing I know how to do, my little ponies, only one fucking thing I'm good at, and since the good senator here was so kind as to confirm the rumors, there's apparently no place for it in your happy-scrappy storybook world."

His shoulders slumped, and he caught his breath. "There's nothing else for us," he said. "That's the long and short of it. We're getting left behind. We are servicemembers." He gestured to Melchior. "Us. We're serving you. But eventually all of 'you' will be gone, and there'll be nobody left to serve, nobody left to fight. Queen Rania is making truffles and Queen Elizabeth is thinking up crosswords? Then what the hell would someone like me be doing? Painting birdhouses? Shoveling manure? Uh uh. No thanks. I'd rather die. I'm not ashamed of who I am as a human, and I'm not afraid to die, either."

Melchior patted him on the shoulder. "We should get going," she said.

"Yeah, you're right," said Balthazar. He then looked to the ponies. "But there's some cleanup to do first, and I don't think you folks want to see it."

As they ambled back up into the truck bed, Balthazar lifted and locked the tailgate, fixing Sugar Spoon with a look. "Think about your princess, Equestria," he said. "Once you're settled in nice and snug back home, try and remember the people her perfect world can't cater to."

"You can yell at me all you want, if it helps you feel better," said Sugar Spoon, "but I'm not giving up on you. You aren't HLF, but you also didn't deny hating ponies. Why are you helping us?"

Balthazar smiled bitterly. "Simple," he said, "because it's the right thing to do."

Comments

[Chatoyance]

Man is the Ape that Adapts. A human who cannot imagine themselves doing something new or different is already dead. Perhaps Balthazar still has some life left in him. I guess we'll see.

I have yet to hear - from anyone - a convincing argument for staying human. I wonder, sometimes, if there actually is one. I certainly can't think of one. I keep asking though.

[Defoloce]

322436

I actually did want to explore how incomprehensible a mindset choosing to remain human might be to ponies. Most humans would see Equestria as deliverance, while the soldierly mind would see only shameful capitulation followed by a life of lonely mediocrity. The way I see it, humans—no matter their affiliation or personal beliefs—who would choose to operate right on the cusp of the Barrier have a kind of death wish already, a comfort level with dangerous conditions most people never need to cultivate. From there, it becomes a kind of bizarro refuge for those who have no ties to Equestria, no loved ones waiting for them there, and nothing they think they can offer it.

[Sorren]

I am loving this story. The writing is genious, the story is enthralling. This is one of the best fics i have read in a very long time. Keep up the good work, cause i'm loving it all the way.

[PresentPerfect]

Nuance in TCB? No wonder this story is so well regarded.