//------------------------------// // Chapter 24: The Tree of Rainbows // Story: Brightly Lit 2: Pharos // by Penalt //------------------------------//     Reality is a matter of perception.  Where you are and what you see make up what you know to be real and while world shaking revelations may be occurring in one place, the mild and mundane will be happening in another.  We might be experiencing something earth shaking and life changing in one place at a given time, but for someone else, it’s just another day in the sun.       However, events do not occur in a vacuum.  One occurrence will affect another, even if that effect is subtle and beyond our comprehension.  But sometimes those relationships are much more clear cut...     “I’m bored!” sighed Sweetie Belle.  “Mr. Thunder, can me, Applebloom and Scootaloo go out and play?”     “You three sure you’re okay?” Thunder responded, clearly distracted with one ear swiveled off in the direction where one of his best friends was about to play with forces little understood.     “We’re fine, and tired of being stuck inside,” Sweetie Belle replied, doing her best to reassure the stallion who had opened his home to the trio.  “We won’t go bother Foxfire and the others, promise.”     “It’s not really that,” Windweaver said, working on yet another of the harnesses that had become ubiquitous among the ponies in town.   “We’ll be careful, Ma’am,” offered Applebloom from the living floor where she had been rolling a ball back and forth between her forehooves, just as mind-numbed as her friends.. “We just wanna go out and explore, maybe.  If that’s okay?” “Let me make a call first, girls,” Windweaver responded, putting down a heavy gauge needle and picking up the receiver on an old-style push button phone and rapidly dialing a number. “Hello sir… Yes, we’re all fine, but I have a question for you.  No, nothing big, it’s just that the Crusaders want to go out, and Thunder and I are a little worried.  Especially after…  Oh you will?  Thank you, I’ll let them know right away,” Windweaver said into the device as the Crusaders look at each other with puzzlement. “What was all that?” Scootaloo asked, curious.  “Are we gonna get to go out, or what?” “Well that was Mr. Malinski, who is keeping an eye on Iron Heart and his family, along with Darter and Skylark,” the seamstress began, taking up her needle and threads again.  “He’s arranging for an escort for you.” “A foalsitter?” demanded an instantly outraged Applebloom.  “We’re not little babies anymore!” “No offense, Mrs. Windweaver, but we really don’t need someone to watch us,” Sweetie Belle added, much more diplomatically. “Girls, while I recognize you’re all big fillies, you need to remember that you three are the only Equestrians on Earth, which means it’s important that you stay safe,” Thunder said, backing up his wife.  “And besides that, I need to make sure it looks like I’m taking good care of you.” “But y’all said that those so… social people were all fulla hooie,” Applebloom countered.  “They said they were wrong and that the case was closed, but I’ve had a few bad experiences with their type,” Thunder responded, one side of his jaw clenched involuntarily.  “I—” Whatever else Thunder was going to say was interrupted by a firm knock at the door, which gathered a muttered, “Speak of the devil and you will see his horns” comment from the lone stallion in the room. “I’ll get it,” called Scootaloo, dashing over to the door and opening it before anyone could voice an objection, let alone stop the eager pegasus.   “Hey there, you must be Scootaloo,” stated a woman, standing at the doorway wearing a pair of grey jogging pants, a camouflage pattern halter top, with an accompanying fanny pack and a well secured pistol holster.   “And you are?” Thunder asked, eyeing the newcomer suspiciously. “Warrant Officer Ram, I’ve been assigned to be the protective detail for Scootaloo, Applebloom and Sweetie Belle,” the woman replied crisply.  “Captain Malinski should have let you know I was coming over?” “Just now,” confirmed Windweaver, allowing her husband to relax.  “Why don’t you come in and we’ll get to know each other.” As Scootaloo moved aside to let the woman in, her eyes were drawn to the woman’s weapon.  “Is that a gun?” “Yes, this is my service weapon.  Sir, Ma’am, is it okay with you if I give the ponies a brief lesson in gun safety?” Officer Ram asked, respectfully. “Certainly, as long as you’re careful,” Windweaver replied, earning a split second glare from the soldier before she smoothed over her face again. “Of course.  Now kids, gather around and I’ll show you the workings of the Sig Sauer P320 pistol,” stated Ram, moving across the floor in a few strides to sit cross-legged at a small coffee table. In spite of the ponies’ earlier desire to want nothing to do with the newcomer, the Crusaders’ curiosity had them joining Officer Ram around the table.  Once she was sure she had the ponies’ undivided attention the lean soldier undid the safety flap of her holster and pulled out the pistol.   “This is my service weapon.  Specifically, it is a Sig Sauer P320 Compact model pistol modified for use with the .45 ACP round.” Ram held out the brown weapon and with a few quick, precise motions ejected the magazine and worked the action.  “The weapon holds nine rounds and is currently as safe as it can be.  Any questions?” “Can I hold it?” Scootaloo asked, reaching out a hoof. “No,” Ram instantly replied, moving the weapon slightly away from the diminutive pegasus.   “She just wanted ta hold it,” Applebloom protested on behalf of her friend. “First lessons of gun safety,” recited Ram, a not unkind look on her face.  “Always assume a gun is loaded.  Always assume a gun will fire when you touch it in any way.  Always assume that anything or anyone in the path of the barrel will be killed when the gun fires.” “Then why the hay did you bring that in here and show it to us, if it’s that dangerous?” Sweetie Belle demanded, thumping a hoof on the table. “Because I’m going to be spending a lot of time around you three, and while I don’t have the time to give you the same training I’ve had to use this weapon properly, what I can do is teach you to respect this weapon and others like it,” Ram explained, hands moving in a blur of motions that broke down the pistol further into its component parts.  “There, now it’s as safe as I can possibly make it.” “Don’t look like much,” was Scootaloo’s comment.  “You sure you need something like this?” “Hopefully, no.  But if anyone tries what Mercury did again, and they don’t take ‘stop’ for an answer then they will stop for this,” Ram replied, reassembling the weapon in slow, careful stages.  “God made man, but Sam Colt made them equal.  My weapon makes me the equal of any man or pony.” “But what if you ain’t around to use it, what then?” Applebloom asked.   “Then you leave it alone, and run away to someone or someplace safe.  You never use a weapon you aren’t trained in.  Understood?” Ram asked, looking at each of the Crusaders, making sure they understood.  “Now, I heard something about going out for a run around to explore the town.  Bet I can outrun all three of you.” “No way!  We’ve got four legs and you’ve only got two,” declared the orange pegasus filly, immediately responding to the challenge.   “Last one to the village office buys ice cream,” challenged Ram, checking her watch.  “I’ll even give you a thirty second head start.” Air in the room displaced so quickly that literal dust outlines of three young ponies were left in the air as they all but teleported out of the house and began pelting their way up the street.  For her part Officer Ram calmly holstered her pistol and checked her watch. “Uh, they are pretty fast, you know,” Thunder commented, in response to the soldier’s nonchalance. “Sir, I’m Warrant Officer Eveline Mercy Ram,” replied the woman, giving the pegasus a wicked smile as she bounced up on her toes a bit and moved toward the door.  “But when I’m running triathlons they call me, ‘No Mercy’.” With that the soldier jogged out the door in the Crusaders wake, and for the next half hour the four raced against each other in the summer sun.  Brightly certainly wasn’t big enough for a foot race to last that long, and if the Crusaders had run directly to the village office things would have been said and done inside of ten minutes. Instead, Applebloom had spotted Officer Ram closing the distance before they were halfway to their goal, looking as if she wasn’t even trying hard at all.   “C’mon girls, let’s make this race awesome!” Scootaloo decreed, making a turn and leading her friends down a side street, accelerating as they did so.      For her part, Ram simply grinned and picked up the pace so that she could keep to within a few dozen meters of her prey.  Never quite close enough to be a danger to the ponies’ expected victory, but also never far away enough that the Crusaders lost sight of her.  At times the ponies would sprint for a minute or so, and the gap would increase, but the fillies simply found themselves unable to maintain that pace and would slow back down enough for Ram to narrow the distance enough to resume her constant trailing position.  After several recurrences of this; Sweetie Belle, Applebloom and Scootaloo realized that Ram could catch up and pass them anytime she wanted to, but simply chose not to. The final leg of the race was run up Brightly’s main street, from the elementary school at one end to the village office at the other, with a returned Darrell Montcalm and his staff watching as three panting ponies practically collapsed at their feet.  Tired but victorious, they had just managed to keep the distance by putting all of their energies into a full gallop. “Could I please get some water and something to towel off the ponies with?” Ram asked, barely out of breath as jogged up.  “That was a nice run, kids.  We’ll have to do it again some time.” “How?” Scootaloo demanded, panting out the question and gratefully accepting a bottle of water.   “I’m a long-distance runner,” explained No Mercy, pausing to take a long pull from her own canteen.  “I’ve run ten times this distance twice as fast.  And I had an evolutionary advantage.” “Wha?” Sweetie Belle asked, sipping on her own water. “I don’t have fur, and that lets me get rid of the heat buildup from running faster, which lets me go further than just about anything with a pelt, as long as I pace myself,” Ram replied, grabbing a towel and using it to pull the lather off of Applebloom’s hide.  “You three did pretty well, all things considered.” “But we should’ve never slowed down.  We once went all the way to the Crystal Empire with only a coupla stops on the way,” Scootaloo complained, trying to get her breathing back under control.   “Crystal Empire?” Ram asked, making a mental note. “Yeah, it’s about a week north by train from Ponyville,” Applebloom supplied.  “We went there as the flag waving team.” “Rainbow Dash said we were awesome,” Scootaloo commented, slurping back the last of her water and bouncing back up on her hooves. “So, you did sorta come in last,” Sweetie Belle said, looking up at Ram with a hopeful expression. “Ice cream is on me,” Ram conceded with a laugh.  “You girls want to go check out the Leung dig site afterwards?”             “Cutie Mark Crusader Ice Cream Racers!” exploded from the trio in delight.       An hour and a pair of Fudgesicles each later, the quartet was looking into where students from the Humanities Department of UBC were busily and methodically excavating the remains of a small warehouse that had perished long ago.     “Ah still don’t get why we got so tired,” Applebloom complained, looking carefully down into the shallow pit.  “We’ve run way further than that.”     “Probably has to do with Brightly having lost the Equestrian magic it had,” Ram replied, after a few moments thought.  “From what my briefing told me about you girls, you mainly run on sugar and magic.”     “Magic is the best!” Sweetie Belle declared, bouncing a little.  “But I can barely do anything here.”     “So, if you three had had your magic, I wouldn’t have stood a chance, eh?” Ram asked as she started to move away from the dig having picked up on several worried looks she’d seen the budding archeologists exchange at the proximity of neophytes.       “Yeah, then we would have had the evo… evlo… the advantage,” Scootaloo managed to grind out.       “Hey, you girls smell that?” Applebloom asked, turning slowly as she sniffed the light breeze wafting through the trees.     “Smell what?” Ram asked, carefully not putting her hand on her weapon as her eyes sought out any potential threats.     “Yeah, I smell it too,” Sweetie Belle replied.  “It smells like… “     “Home,” said all three ponies in unison, dashing off into the undergrowth as they pursued the echo of friends and family.     Ram, taken by surprise, ran after her charges finding out that in the woods the ponies had the advantage over her with their small size and maneuverability allowing them to swiftly outpace her no matter how fast she tried to run.  Luckily for the warrant officer, the Crusaders were also anything but silent as they ran, enabling the woman to track the ponies by sound alone.     After several minutes, and not a few long scratches to legs and arms, Eveline Ram burst into a clearing in the forest, almost running full on into the motionless rumps of the Crusaders. “Hey, you can’t go running off like… “ her words trailed off as her brain tried to make sense of what she was seeing. The clearing was wide and brightly lit by the early afternoon sun pouring down from above, and everything seemed to be just somehow better in the small glade.  The grass was greener, the small animals scurrying around seemed cuter and happier, the birdsong was sweeter and more melodic, and then Ram saw the tree that stood in the center. Tall, the tree stood, with bright green leaves and dozens of apples hanging along every branch of the great fruit tree that looked as if it had been there for a hundred years and would be for a hundred more. “Are those apples—” Ram began to ask, squinting at the fruits, “are they rainbow coloured?” “It’s a zap apple tree!” exclaimed Scootaloo. “What’s a zap apple tree?” Ram asked, looking from filly to filly. “It’s a special kind of apple tree that only grows on mah family’s farm, Sweet Apple Acres,” Applebloom proudly informed their bodyguard.  “They’ve got all the strange magic from the Everfree forest in them and they’re the best tasting apples in all of Equestria!” All three ponies ran through the clearing and over to the trunk of the tree where the red bowed earth pony proceeded to buck the tree with all her tiny might.  A half dozen apples fell down, and the three Equestrians fell on the fruits with the gleeful abandon of starving wolves.  Officer Ram was somewhat more reluctant to join them, one hand stretched out as she moved forward as if to ward off the possibility of magic affecting her, and relaxing only when her hand passed into the tree’s area of effect with nothing happening to her other than a slight tingling sensation. “Om, Thesh are grate,” Applebloom garbled out, offering Ram one of the multi coloured fruits. “Zap apples, eh?,” Ram replied, bouncing the fruit in her hand for a few moments before taking a careful sniff.  “What do they taste like?” “Home,” the Crusaders replied in unison, their faces falling as the taste of zap apples reminded them how very far away they were from the ponies they loved. “Hey, don’t cry,” Ram said, gathering the three suddenly sniffling homesick fillies into her arms, and sitting down so that her back rested against the tree.  “We’ll get you home.  It may take awhile, but if we can put people into space we can get you home.” “Promise?” asked Sweetie Belle, huge eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I wasn’t going to say anything before, but the PM is going to make a speech tomorrow asking the world to help out,” Ram confided conspiratorially. “One country put a man on the moon.  Imagine what every nation on Earth can do, focused on the single goal of getting you home.” “Wow, you really went to your moon?” Scootaloo asked, as an apple fell from the tree to land squarely in the only open space on Ram’s lap.   “When we get back to town I’ll show you the pictures, In the meantime, I may as well see what’s so great about these apples,” Ram answered, and picking up the gravitationally challenged offering, bit into it with a loud crunching sound.  “Hey, that’s pretty good.  Kinda tastes like—” There was a flashing swirl of rainbow light, and in an instant the human of the group was gone, replaced by a yellow eyed pegasus with dark and light green wings attached to a body of light chocolate brown with fawn highlights.  The newly minted pegasus had a single moment of calm to look over her body in surprised shock before a brain used to operating four limbs got very confused with finding itself in a body with six.    “This is not going to look good on my yearly eval,” Ram declared as she collapsed to the ground in jerky movements.  “Not good at all.” Ebon Donavich sat on the bench in front of a wooden desk, trying to figure out how he had fallen so far, who was to blame, and how he was going to climb out of this mess.  He sat there, working through the choices he had made, while the chains connecting his hobbles idly clinked.  The sound driving his anger higher as it reminded him of the soft and useless body he was now in. Ponies were prey animals, and he was not prey.  He was a man, dammit.  A man who had been cruelly betrayed by women he had put his trust into, and foreign magic created by an alien being who was nothing more than a talking riding animal.   “Sorry to keep you waiting, Donavich,” a tall man with the epaulets of a colonel said, entering the building and moving past the shackled pony to sit at the desk.  Donavich noticed the lack of a salute and acknowledgement of his rank with fresh fury. “Major Donavich,” Donavich growled out.  “I haven’t been stripped of my rank… Sir.” “The only reason you haven’t been put in front of a court-martial, stripped of your rank and dishonorably discharged is because right now you aren’t human,” the colonel shot back.  “Legally at the moment, you are property.  Purchased at great cost from the Canadian government, and the United States intends to recoup that investment.  Sign this.” Donavich read the sheet of paper that was pushed towards him with an even mix of anger and horror.   “Who the hell do you think you are that I’d even consider signing something like this?” Ebon snarled, slamming a hoof against the table hard enough to leave a dent.  “This says that in exchange for dropping all charges, I agree to surrender my human rights and be what amounts to breeding stock for the military.  I’m pretty certain this document is not only immoral but illegal as well.” “I’m Colonel Trask, and may I remind you that at the moment and for the foreseeable future, you aren’t human and therefore don’t have ‘human rights’,” the colonel shot back,  a cold and unforgiving smile on his face.  “Until Congress ratifies the Equine Rights Act, you are legally an animal and can be treated as such.  All of this is just a courtesy to your former species and service to this country.” “What?” Donavich demanded, ears pinned back against his head. “This. Is. A. Courtesy.  I didn't have to show you this offer.  I didn’t have to speak with you, or treat you like a person in any way, shape or form,” Trask replied, grin widening.  “The Army, in its infinite wisdom, has delivered you into my hands for safekeeping.  And so you will be kept as ordered, in the manner of my choosing.” “You can’t do this,” Donavich snapped back.  “I still have friends in both the Army and the government, once they hear about this, they’ll—” “Do nothing, because they will hear nothing,” Trask interrupted, and the smile he wore was predatory now.  “You are at an experimental farm station in Alaska that is nearly a thousand miles from anything else.  There are exactly two communication links to the outside world, both of which are codelocked with passwords only I know, and as far as anyone other than the staff here knows, you’re in a US military prison being held pending charges and trial, so no one is going to come looking for you for a long time.  If ever.” “So, I’m in my own penal colony,” Donavich said, realizing how deeply he was at Trask’s mercy. “I’m not a monster,” Trask stated.  “As long as you behave, you will be able to move about the area as you please.  You will be well-fed, groomed regularly, provided the best possible healthcare, and have a duty that, let’s be honest, most soldiers would kill to have.” “And who am I supposed to carry out this…  duty with?” Donavich replied, expecting the answer but wanting it confirmed. “Captain Watson has already signed her copy of the document, though I understand she prefers to be called ‘Sunday’ now,” Trask informed the still reeling pony.  “You’ll find her out in the north pasture, and from what I understand she’s quite eager to start work.” “May I have some time to think about this?” Donavich asked, desperate for time to come up with a plan, any plan.  “It’s not like you have to worry about me running away.” “As I said, I’m not a monster,” restated Trask, magnanimous in his victory over Donavich.  “You have until tomorrow morning to make your decision.” The next hours were a blur for Ebon as he was led away, unshackled, tagged with a locator chip in his neck and introduced to his new home.  A pony sized horse stall complete with a hay rack, water bucket, heater and a small blanket.   As night fell, Donavich’s heart fell with it.  There seemed to be no way out, and Trask was literally holding the whip hand and was obviously unafraid to use it.  Try as he might the man who had schemed and manipulated his way through the army could not think of a scheme to get out of this.   “Oh God,” Ebon prayed, in quiet desperation.  “Help me get out of this.” In response, a cold breeze blew through the small barn.  It whirled and swirled in the building before bounding over the gate to Donavich’s stall.  It’s chill touch slid under his blanket until it coiled cooly around one furry ear. “Hello Ash Heart, I’m pleased to finally meet you.”