“I am the bone of my sword,” Iron Heart intoned solemnly, before dissolving into a fit of giggles. “Bone, bone, boney bone sword.”
“No more Crunchyroll nights at the firehall for you, Mister,” Medevac commented, quieting the giggling pony smith through the simple method of squeezing some sugar laden gel into his mouth from an emergency packet.
“How bad is he?” asked Kevin Banta as he prepared the ambulance’s stretcher to carry the enervated Iron Heart to Brightly’s small clinic.
“Believe it or not, this is an improvement,” Medevac replied, frowning at the results of another diagnostic sweep of her wings. “His blood sugar levels are maybe a one or one-point-five, and that’s after running in a full bag of dextrose.”
“Shit, he’s not a closet diabetic or anything is he?” Banta asked, trying to recall what he knew of his fellow fireman’s medical history.
“Not as of six months ago when I did all our physicals, he isn’t. Could be a case of overwork trying to make those,” Medevac swept a wing to point out the five blades that glowed like molten fire as the sun’s first rays touched them. “Foxfire, you have any idea what Iron Heart was doing in particular? Anything he might have done or touched, or even magiced up, to have triggered a reaction like this?”
Silence greeted the question and the paramedic pegasus glanced upwards to see the white unicorn standing completely still, her smokey eyes staring out into space.
“Right,” Medevac stated matter of factly, as she and Kevin quickly shared a look.
More than once the paramedic had seen relatives of a victim “check out” during an emergency, becoming completely unresponsive, and even though it was completely out of character for either Jean Pedersen or Foxfire to shut down in a crisis, there was a first time for everything and Medevac’s training was to deal with the individual in greater danger first.
“Kevin,” Medevac ordered, in her ‘official’ voice. “Get Iron Heart loaded up and to the clinic. Keep giving him sugar both orally and by IV until he’s up to at least double his current levels. I’ll clean up the scene and follow on. Got it?”
“Transport and administer oral and intravenous sugar until levels reach three point oh, or higher. Got it,” Kevin replied, repeating the order to make sure there was no miscommunication.
“Also, check his blood sugar every ten minutes in case I’m delayed. We’re barely making headway against whatever’s thrown his metabolism into overdrive,” Medevac cautioned. “We’ve got to keep pouring in the fuel to feed his fire, but we can’t overshoot either, or we’ll throw him into hyperglycemic shock.”
“Not my first rodeo,” Kevin quipped, getting ready to lift the supine pony. “On three. One, two…”
With the smoothness of drilled practice Banta lifted Iron Heart the short hop onto the stretcher while Medevac simultaneously lifted her patient’s IV and other necessaries along with him. Swift motions secured the still delirious metal worker to his conveyance and inside of sixty seconds Iron Heart was being slid into the waiting ambulance. Less than a second minute’s passing found the stretcher itself secured in place and Kevin settling into the driver’s seat.
“Right, heading out,” Kevin stated, before jerking his chin back toward the door of the workshop garage. “You gonna check on Foxfire too?”
“Yeah, it’s not like her to freeze up like this,” Medevac answered, concern in her voice.
“It’s been a long time since she’s let anyone get as close to her as Arn has,” Kevin noted, starting the engine. “Seeing it all come apart might have made her come apart a bit too. Don’t be surprised if you don’t recognize her right now.”
“Yeah,” Medevac said, chewing her lip for a second before shaking herself and getting her train of thought in order again. “Get going. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
“See you soon,” was Kevin’s answer, not quite sending gravel flying as he left his friend’s home.
“Okay then,” Medevac said, to no one in particular as she headed back into the garage, where Foxfire stood exactly where she had for the past several minutes in wide eyed silence.
“Hey, Foxfire,” Medevac said, waving a hoof in front of the unicorn’s face. “Foxfire… Jean… Hey, it’s gonna be fine. We got to Iron Heart in time, he’s gonna be okay. You in there?”
“Hit me,” Foxfire whispered.
“What?” Medevac asked, thoroughly confused.
“Hit me,” Foxfire said, anger in her voice but her body still motionless.
“Are you nuts?” Medevac gasped, wondering if some sort of joke was being played on her. “Why the hell should I hit you?”
“Because I am stuck,” growled the unicorn. “I need the pain of a physical blow to return your Queen to her proper place. “
“Back up the truck, buddy,” Medevac protested. “I am not—”
“You will obey,” Umbral Foxfire commanded, magic flaring as the entirety of Medevac’s world became the smoke filled eyes of Foxfire.
“I… I... “ Medevac stuttered, as she tried to tear herself away from the dread gaze of the Umbral. The strength of her will may as well have been smoke trapped in a bottle for all the good it did her.
“You. Will. O. Bey. Me,” again commanded the Umbral, and any resistance Medevac had was crushed like a beer can under a tidal wave of power.
“I will obey you,” replied Medevac, her voice monotonous, ears listless and drooping, mind completely frozen in place.
“Who am I?” Umbral Foxfire asked, her magic infused voice quick but firm.
“You are my Queen,” Medevac stated, the answers supplied to her and engraved into the deep places of her mind. “Foxfire, Queen of Brightly and the Lands Beyond.”
“Who are you?” asked the Umbral, the responses of Medevac’s mind to the question showing the dark creature where it needed to scribe the pathways of power into its new minion.
“Medevac, your loyal servant,” Medevac answered, the replies given to her now a part of her psyche.
“In a moment I will command you to strike me. After you do so, you will forget this conversation and your subservience to my will, until such time as your Queen refers to herself as ‘Nytefyre’,” commanded Umbral Foxfire, her confident tones belying the tension as it strove to ensure both Medevac’s mental domination, and keep its host in the dark as to what was going on. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, my Queen,” Medevac replied, her body completely slack, held up only by the psychic grip on her mind requiring her to stay upright.
“Also, you will show proper deference to your Queen from now on,” added the creature, hastily. “Now, strike me in the head with enough force to either stun or render me unconscious. Do this NOW!”
Medevac’s wing swept up in a powerful arc and delivered a mighty buffet directly to the point of Foxfire’s right jaw. The blow launched the unicorn off of her hooves, sending her crashing into a nearby workbench where grime and soot soiled her shining white coat. Silence reigned for several moments in the shop until both mares blinked and seemed to come to their senses.
“What the hell?” Foxfire demanded, rolling to her belly and rubbing her jaw. “What’s going on?”
“What did I...” Medevac began to ask herself, looking from her still upraised wing to the fallen body of Foxfire. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”
“What just happened?” Foxfire asked. “Everything went dark for a bit there, and now I’m on the floor and—Ow.”
My apologies to you and Lady Medevac both, supplied the Umbral, returned to its home in the back of Foxfire’s mind. As embarrassing as this is to admit… I made a mistake.
“Hang on a second,” Foxfire asked Medevac, who froze in mid-step on her way toward the fallen unicorn. “I’m getting an explanation.”
We Umbral are not used to giving up what we have made ours, unless we are forced to do so, explained the sorcerous being. So, when I attempted to keep my given word and surrender control of your body back to you, I found myself unable to do so. This caused your consciousness to be stuck between.
“And what does this have to do with me having a sore jaw?” Foxfire asked angrily.
I reasoned that a blow would both shake my grip and allow me to “surrender” my place back to you, continued the Umbral. I was correct, of course. Once Medevac struck us I was able to yield to your will, and allow you to resume your place in charge of our body.
Getting up to her hooves, Foxfire relayed the information to Medevac, who immediately finished dashing over to examine her friend.
“No concussion, but you’re probably going to have a nice bruise there in a bit,” Medevac said, after a much softer sweep of her wings. “Why the hell can’t I remember hitting you? I remember the whatsit telling me to, and me arguing. The next thing I know, you’re on the floor.”
Please convey my apologies to Lady Medevac, requested the Umbral. Her loyalty to you was such that she refused to strike you, so in order to keep my sworn word, I’m afraid I used magic to compel her to obey. It will not happen again.
“YOU DID WHAT?!” shouted Foxfire, causing Medevac to shrink away as if expecting to be hit herself.
I am required to keep my word to you, the Umbral stated calmly. Our agreements allow me to take action to keep true to those contracts, and so I did. I regret the necessity of my action but it was required. You should probably relay this to Lady Medevac, before she tries to flee our presence.
Wait, what? Foxfire asked, before looking outside of herself to see a cringing Medevac, huddled against a wall.
“Rise Medevac, for you have done no wrong,” commanded the white unicorn, the order and phrasing feeling right somehow. “The Umbral made you hit my body so that I could come back. It’s okay. We’re good.”
“You sure?” Medevac asked, to which Foxfire nodded. “I dunno, I feel like I should be doing that bow thing, or something.”
“Well, if you really want to,” Foxfire laughed, before relaying how. “Head and forequarters down, both forelegs out in front. Hindquarters up, with both wings arched forward and parallel to the ground. Oh, and the tips of your outermost primaries should just touch the ground in front of you.”
Medevac followed the instructions, red and white feathers forming a graceful arc to either side of her, and even Foxfire had to admit that the pose suited the pegasus to a T. Then, the Umbral whispered something to Foxfire that turned her white furred cheeks a rosy red.
“What?” Medevac asked, watching her friend’s entire face blush. “What am I doing wrong?”
“Just… just… Oh Goddess, put your tail down,” Foxfire begged, before muttering, “Thanks a ton Umbral, I’m never going to be able to unsee that now.”
Medevac’s tail had already slammed down to the ground to cover her hindquarters when she asked, “Do I want to know?”
“Apparently,” Foxfire began, slowly beginning to recover herself, “a raised tail in that pose means that you’re offering your body to me. As—”
“Oh God!” Medevac laughed, and it was her turn to fight off a furious blush as she broke position trying to cover her flaming face with her wings. “I mean you’re— You’re my qu— You’re engaged!”
Both ponies laughed and hugged as mutual embarrassment broke the tension and drama of minutes before. Neither of them were able to note the pleased satisfaction of the Umbral watching the scene from inside the mind of the unicorn that had been Jean Pedersen. A problem had been turned into an opportunity, and a seed had been planted and nurtured that would in time, bear precious fruit for the magical being when it decided to truly step forth into this world.
Flying westward, the Gulfstream G700 winged its way across the continental United States at 30,000 feet. The gleaming white jet was the new flagship of its manufacturer and had rolled out of its birth hanger only a few weeks earlier. Hurtling high overhead, the aircraft was the epitome of modern technology with all of the latest refinements. Inside the plane’s cabin however, things were transpiring that were nearly as old as humanity itself.
“Okay people,” Ebon Donavich began, sitting in the excessively comfortable chair. “I’d like to start off this briefing by thanking Officer Piet… Pet… Pyetro—”
“Call me ‘Prism’,” supplied the pale skinned woman, seated near the large flat screen mounted on the rear bulkhead of the passenger cabin. Her immaculate white blouse covered her torso, but still showed off an impressive bust. “It’s easier for you non-Slavs to say.”
“As I was saying,” the major continued, fixing the woman with a condescending look. “I’d like to thank Officer Pjetrovic from the CIA for supplying the transport for this mission.”
“The Agency has a vested interest in helping out with the President’s request that a pony, or at least someone who uses magic, comes to the United States,” said a woman with exotic asian features under a length of long ebony hair. “Besides, when you called in your markers, me and Prism were more than happy to get out from under your thumb.”
“Speak for yourselves,” chuckled another woman, this one with freckles and a short bob of red hair. Her loose Army service uniform did little to hide a physique that was more than a match for the other two women. “I’m always ready to help out Mercury for one of his jobs. Beats the hell out of being shoulder deep in a cow any day.”
“And I’m always glad to have you… with me, on these efforts, Captain Watson,” Donavich stated, the pause not being lost on the two CIA officers, who were too well trained to share the look they both felt. “And maybe we should start this briefing with introductions.”
“Officers Nao Takamura and Kyo Pjetrovic, CIA,” Ebon began, indicating the blond and asian woman respectively. “I got to know them when I was seconded to the Agency for some very well rounded, off the books assistance.”
The flat looks the CIA agents returned were belied by the sparkle of anger in both sets of their eyes. It was obvious to the captain that there was some serious personal history between both women and her current boss.
“Officers, this is Captain Cassandra Watson aka ‘Sunday’, US Army Veterinary Corps,” motioning toward the woman he had boarded the plane with. “She’ll be our medic and if necessary, vet, for this mission. Nao, why don’t you brief us on the mission and target?”
“Yes sir,” replied the asian woman, standing up and using a remote to activate the screen, which lit up to show an aerial view of Brightly. “This is the town of Brightly, British Columbia. Currently home to both the only known extra-dimensional portal and beings from another world. The portal is giving off an energy currently described as ‘magic’ which is capable of inexplicable activities by the local residents.”
“Are we still really calling it magic?” Prism asked, rolling her eyes. “Bohze moi, you would think we would have a better term by now.”
“Every other explanation sounds like someone put twenty pages of a ‘Star Trek’ script into a shotgun and fired it at a wall,” Nao shrugged, the motion making blue highlights roll up and down her black hair. “Regardless of the terminology, seeing as the Canadians have refused multiple requests by us the President has tasked Team Mercury to bring a resident of that town, preferably one who can use this phenomena, back to the US for study.”
“While the President has said he would be happy to have anyone from Brightly, I aim to overachieve,” Major Donavich declared proudly, striking a seated pose that made him look like something out of a recruiting poster. “I want to do more than just bring back someone who can light candles or break a coffee cup. I intend to bring back a pony.”
“Isn’t that what the last team tried, Sir?” asked Watson, tilting her head in curiosity. “Didn’t they fail spectacularly?”
“Rios couldn’t have brought us back a pony if one gift-wrapped itself for him and shipped itself to the White House via Fedex,” Donavich snorted derisively. “He didn’t even have a specific target. We do.”
“Care to enlighten those beneath you, Major?” asked the asian agent. “Seeing as you’ve rendered useless the briefing you asked me to deliver.”
“My apologies, Officer,” answered Donavich, standing up and taking the remote for the screen. “Consider the time spent a training exercise for you could get to know the lay of the land.”
“As I said, I intend to get America a pony,” smoothly continued the major, ignoring the barely repressed snarl of the intelligence officer. “The available target pool is small. Starting with the aliens themselves. Princesses Celestia and Luna of Equestria.”
“We aren’t going after them are we?” gasped the Army captain, as the image shifted to show both Equestrian monarchs. “They are lovely though. I’d love to get a saddle up on either of them.”
“No, going after either of them would be a horrible idea for multiple reasons, not the least of which is that both of them have the ability to move celestial objects via magic,” Donavich answered, shaking his head. “That's unverified, but considering everything else that is within their proven abilities, we aren’t going to take a chance on that.”
“Okay, that makes sense,” Watson commented. “So, maybe one of those cute little bat ponies?”
“The ‘bat ponies’ as they are referred to, aren’t suitable for our purposes either,” Donavich responded. “Their particular magic seems to be ‘locked’ into a single method, and while potent, those abilities seem instinctual rather than planned. Worse, Princess Luna views the forty-two of them as her personal vassals. I have no intention of causing an inter-dimensional incident.”
“Oh, I see where he’s going with this,” muttered Kyo, just loud enough for her fellow intelligencer to hear. “He always did try to go big…”
“Which leaves us with known Brightly residents who have embraced being ponies,” continued Donavich, showing no sign that he had noticed the aside. “First off, is Jess—”
“With all due respect, Major,” Nao said, interrupting smoothly. “Aren’t you forgetting the four Americans who travelled to Brightly on foot and managed their own transformation? I think they would be primary targets of our mission, especially as they are already American citizens. We would have lawful authority to bring them home.”
“Even though your preferred codename is ‘Empress’, I’ll thank you to remember that I’m in command, Officer Takamura,” was the cold response from Donavich. “Besides, as I recall you do some of your best work under me, so you had best get used to being in that position again.”
Both of the other women in the cabin tried to hide their responses to that comment, but they needn’t have bothered as the dark haired CIA officer was too busy eviscerating the army major with the glare she was sending his way, to notice the other women at that moment.
“As I was saying,” Donavich continued, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Jessica Harkins—”
“Ebon, much as I hate to admit it, Nao’s point stands,” Prism interjected, much less smoothly than her fellow agent had. “What about the American ponies in Brightly?”
“Prism, I know you like topping your fellow agent, with facts, but as I told her I’m the one in charge on this mission,” said the major, planting both his hands on his hips as he turned to look the CIA agent in the eye. “Believe it or not, the ‘Stormriders’ as the media calls them, have requested political refugee status and due to numerous treaties with the Canadians, we have to let their court process go through its motions.”
“That’s insane!” argued Watson, before pausing to think. “Wait, why can’t we just wait for the Canadian courts to simply deny the claim and scoop them up when they’re deported back to the US?”
“Because we’re under time constraints,” Mercury answered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Trudeau, like his father before him, is a bleeding heart liberal. As such, there is no guarantee that Canada’s courts will make the proper judgement, or make the right one in any sort of timely manner. Now, can I please get on with it?”
“Oh, by all means Sir,” Cassandra agreed, before adding with a sly smile, “I always love helping you get on with things, like that time you gave me a hand improving the K-9 Corps breeding stock.”
“Um, yes,” Donavich replied, a hint of pink tinging his cheeks. “As I was saying, the Stormriders are off the table. As is Jessica Harkins, aka Medevac. With her position as the primary medical caregiver in town, her absence would be missed immediately and she likely would be very resistant to any persuasion.”
“At least in the short term,” interjected Nao. “Give me enough time, and I can get anyone to do just about anything.”
“Psyops is why you’re here, Nao. But with the President’s term coming to a close soon, we don’t have time for most of your better work,” Mercury commented, before flicking the remote to show a strongly built man. “Arnold Kye, aka ‘Iron Heart’ when in his earth pony form. No extraordinary abilities shown as yet beyond what is considered to be exceptional strength and endurance.”
“Damn, he’s a cutie,” commented Watson as the image changed to a still of Iron Heart, glossy black flanks caught in mid-flex as he cantered along. “Reminds me of a friesian. Good conformation too.”
“Your personnel file did say you do enjoy working with animals,” Kyo chimed in, brushing aside a lock of cornsilk hair. “I didn’t realize that it was to such a degree.”
“Ladies, please hold your comments until I’m done,” Ebon ordered, rolling his eyes at the in-fighting between his team members. “Iron Heart is off the target list as well, due to his connection with the most problematic of the Brightly ponies.”
The image shifted to show a unicorn who was a near total contrast to the pony who had appeared before her. Where the previous pony had been a dark and massive beast, the unicorn now pictured was a brilliant white, with a slim and graceful body, and while that lean and delicate appearance should have made the mare pictured appear small and fragile, the wreath of dark purple power around the eyes and horn of the unicorn gave her a foreboding presence.
“This is Jean Pedersen, aka Foxfire. She is probably the single most dangerous pony in Brightly,” noted Donavich. “She’s likely the most powerful magic-user in the town, barring the princesses themselves. What’s more, she is also possessed of a hair trigger temper and has absolutely no problems unleashing either on anyone she sees as a threat.”
“She’s also a convicted murderer,” added Nao, from the briefing notes for her own pre-empted briefing. “Victim of repeated spousal abuse over an extended period. She killed her husband by poisoning him with foxglove tea, which prevented him from triggering a lethal shock device he had locked to her to keep her under control.”
“Good for her,” Prism commented, with a nod.
“Canadian Crown Counsel thought so as well, and so although she was found guilty on all charges, her sentence was suspended,” Nao recounted. “Her profile indicates pronounced distrust of men, and particularly men in power. Unless they have proven themselves otherwise to her.”
“Which is why she and her fiance, Iron Heart, are both off the target list,” explained Ebon, before adding, “it’s also why we are giving her daughters Rowan, aka ‘Shield Maiden’, and Romana, aka ‘Seeker’, a wide berth as well. Make no mistake people. Foxfire may look small and delicate, but that pony was a killer before she got a hold of magic. We aren’t going to give her an excuse to be a killer with it.”
“Seems to me she’s still flesh and blood,” Pjetrovic said, lips set in a thin smile. “A ketamine dart to the flank to render her unconscious, followed by some VR goggles to keep her disoriented and earphones to keep her from concentrating enough to use her abilities. Two hours later we could be back across the border and delivering a nicely bundled up package to the President.”
“And if something happens and she isn’t instantly taken down we have an enraged engine of destruction on our hands who would have the reason, ability, and willingness to horribly kill all of us,” Nao countered.
“REGARDLESS!,” shouted Donavich, giving up on having an orderly briefing delivered to compliant and quiet subordinates. “We make no move on Foxfire or her family unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
“And if it is?” Watson asked, a small note of anxiety in her voice.
“Then we take her down hard and fast,” the leader of Team Mercury stated, projecting confidence in order to bolster the team’s veterinarian. “We’ll bundle her up in a suspension isolation bag and go with Kyo’s idea to keep her abilities suppressed.”
“Yes sir,” Watson replied, feeling somewhat steadier. “I can probably prepare a drug cocktail to keep her sedated for a long period of time as well.”
“Good,” Ebon said, nodding and shifting the image on the screen to a smiling family of four. “This brings us to our primary targets, among which is our best chance of success in this mission. Meet the Harding family. Ernest and Lynn Harding, who are the parents of Zach and Kylara.”
The image quartered to show a different pegasus in each of the four views, the older two shown standing on the ground, with the younger pair each pictured in flight. The family resemblance through fur and plumage was clear and obvious to all.
“These four are our target, but there is one pony in particular who we feel we have the best chance of bringing home with us,” declared Ebon, enlarging the image of the adult stallion first. “Ernest Harding, aka ‘Thunder’ was considered as a primary target, but was ruled out due to his local position and his known ability to generate and direct lightning.”
The screen then shifted to the young male, his face set in a whoop of joy. “Zach Harding, aka ‘Darter’ is considered our third best target. He’s young, impulsive, and tends to charge off on his own. However, this ability to control the weather could be an issue, which puts him in the number three spot.”
“Going after the ladies per usual, Major?” Nao asked, getting a sharp look in return.
“Lynn Harding, aka ‘Windweaver’ is our number two choice, and in the event we can’t get our primary target, she will become the pony we try to take back with us,” Donavich continued, not even acknowledging Nao’s comment. “She’s a homemaker, and her combat abilities are limited to the manipulation of winds. Her profile indicates that she would likely ride out any situation passively rather than resort to violence.”
“Particularly if we tell her that remaining with us ensures the safety of her family,” provided Nao, receiving a sharp look followed by a nod of understanding from Ebon at the interruption. “Provided we don’t try to harm her, she likely will go peacefully with us if she feels it will protect those she cares about.”
“Which brings us to our primary target,” Major Donavich revealed, the image on screen showing a closeup of a black bodied pegasus with a crimson mane and tail. “Kylara Harding, aka ‘Skylark’. A pre-teen pegasus pony. Shy and introverted for the most part, her primary pony ability is to lift massive weights into the air. Making her nearly the perfect choice of candidate.”
“Her profile indicates complete passivity if taken forcefully,” Nao stated, as she pulled a large manila envelope embossed with the emblem of the United States Air Force, and passed it to Donavich. “But that’s not your plan, is it, Major?”
“No, it’s not,” replied Mercury Prime as he looked at the envelope’s contents with a smile. “But with this, we should be able to get Skylark to come along of her own free will. Smile people, we’re about to take a pony to America.”