The Bear, The Eagle, and The Ponies

by ObssesedNuker

Brain Freeze

Disclaimer: My Little Pony is owned by Hasbro, Red Alert by EA. Also: Britain was founded by King Alfred the Great, or at least that's what Numbuh Six-Sixtysix told me. Cheerio old chap.
THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN BETA’D NOW!

When the squad had left, the barracks had its heater running on low. Now the heater was off and instead the air conditioning was running at full blast. But the mess hall was still filled with roughly a hundred men, all of their conversation drowning out the AC’s noise. The conversations were also different from when the Spetznaz had left. The voices had a more nervous bent to them and there was an atmosphere of uncertainty hanging in the air.
One thing that had not changed was the noticeable space the regular enlisted gave their Spetznaz counterparts. The average Soviet conscript respected the special forces men for the risks they took and the skills they possessed. The few soldiers who did not, often wound up in one of the medical wards, recovering from a bar brawl.
Senior Sergeant Orlovsky was glad for that space, it let him think. The moment the helicopter had touched down on the pad, they were confronted by a mix of KGB troops and men from the divisional headquarters who confiscated the buffalo body, debriefed them, and then quite pointedly told the squad to keep their mouths shut.
Now Orlovsky mulled over it all. The Indian feather had caused a mix of reactions amongst the squad… confusion, horror, and disbelief. There had been arguments over whether the feather was an indication of the buffalo’s intelligence, a decoration from a different creature, or just random chance. But now, reflecting on it, the sergeant found it odd that there had been an argument at all.
“A ruble for your thoughts, comrade sergeant?”
Orlovsky looked up to see Gennady, the squad marksman, standing before him. The sniper had withdrawn back into himself after the initial revelation…
“Possibly.” Orlovsky replied, and then a thought occurred to him. “How are you, Gennady?”
As the sniper sat down across from his squad leader, an odd expression passed over his face. “I am… a little saddened by events. It is unusual.”
“How so?”
Instead of answering the question directly, the sniper asked one of his own: “How many men have you killed, comrade sergeant?”
Taken aback, Orlovsky considered his answer before giving a guesstimate, “A few dozen, I think.”
“Ah… I have killed eighteen.” The sniper paused, as if mentally confirming the number, before speaking again, “Do you remember the first one?”
“No.”
“I do.” Gennady took a long drag on his cigarette, “He was an engineer. Probably some kid drafted out of one of the American’s technical schools. I remember the look in his eyes… and I remember feeling nothing but the recoil of my Dragunov.”
The sniper gave Orlovsky a hard look, “You and I are killers, comrade sergeant. We are trained to kill and willing to kill. We kill for the motherland, for each other, and for ourselves. We kill because our enemies wish to kill us as well. And we don’t feel anything… or if we do, we justify it.” Another pause to take a drag on his cigarette, “So what if the buffalo was an intelligent creature… and I don’t know how that line of thought started… with family, hopes, and dreams? That is no different from the Allied soldiers we have killed, from the Allied civilians who might have been caught in our crossfire or executed for partisan activity. So why does this bother us?”
Orlovsky stared at the sniper as the realization dawned upon him that Gennady was right. The entire squad was composed of combat veterans, even the newest of them had fought and killed at least once before. And they were not bothered by it... or at least not enough to noticeably affect them. So why should this kill be any different?
Gennady had apparently finished and was watching his squad leader expectantly, as if waiting for a reply. The sergeant gave it: “I don’t know.”
“I know.” The sniper said nodding, “And neither do I.” He stood up, “By your leave, comrade sergeant.”
Orlovsky looked at the table, developing a sudden interest in considering its properties. “Dismissed.”
The sniper left his commander with even more unanswered questions… even more troubling questions.

Only a few ponies glanced up as Sheriff Silverstar entered the Salt Block. Like most towns of its size, Appleloosa was a tight knit community where everypony knew every other pony on at least some level beyond just their name. One result of such a set-up was that there was rarely any alarm at seeing persons of authority entering a bar, another result was that news travelled fast.
The latter fact was made abundantly apparent when the owner and bartender of the Salt Block, a big mustachioed stallion named Morton Shaker, immediately greeted Silverstar. “Howdy Sheriff, is Strong Heart going to pull through?”
“Doctor says she’ll make a full recovery.” Silverstar replied, wholly unsurprised by Morton’s knowledge of the event, “But have you seen Forty-Niner? I’ve got some metal-related questions I need to ask him about.”
“I think he went prospecting.” Morton shrugged, “I haven’t seen him since this mor-“
“MORT!” Everypony in the bar turned just in time to see Forty-Niner, a dusty-green coated unicorn just beginning to show his age with a cutie mark of a rock of ore wrapped in some measuring tape, come through the door. He was dragging another, even older earth pony behind him. “I need a lot of water!”
“Is that Old Salty?” Morton said, “He still hasn’t paid his-“
“Not now Mort!” Forty-Niner shouted, “He’s badly dehydrated and needs water right now!”
Spurred to action, Mort immediately began to fill a pitcher while the other patrons began to crowd around the unconscious form of Salty. Since the Salt Block was rather empty in the middle of the day, the crowd was by no means a big crowd but Silverstar still felt the need to break it up as he approached Forty-Niner. “Alright now, we’ll get him some water, move along little ponies.”
With some minor muttering, the small gathering dispersed somewhat more slowly than it had gathered. Mort brought the pitcher around, along with a few cups, and Forty-Niner telekinetically poured a few glasses of water into Salty’s dried mouth. In the meantime, Silverstar began questioning, “Where’d you find him?”
“On my way back from the desert… I had run out of water myself.” Forty-Niner set the cup down and turned to give the sheriff his full attention, “It looked like he had been running in a bit of a panic and had collapsed from exhaustion.”
“Well I’m glad he made it.” Mort added, “Salty was always a few screws short of a full bolt…” The bartender’s voice dropped to a mutter, “Not to mention a good bunch of bits short of a paid tab.”
Silverstar ignored him. Certainly, Salty was the town weirdo… not only was he a seapony, that is a salt-addict, but he also had all of these crazy theories. Still, the old stallion was harmless.
“Welp, we’ll be sure to ask him about it.” Silverstar said, turning to Forty-Niner and producing the lump of metal he had been handed at the clinic and proffered it. “In the meantime, can you take a gander at this?”
The unicorn pony telekinetically lifted the metal and held it in front of his eyes. “It has some lead… no, a lot of lead. Hmm, bits of copper… brass… that is some good quality brass. Now then…” He frowned, “Residue on this, seems like remnant of some kind of powder.”
“You could tell all that just by looking?” Mort asked in surprise.
Forty-Niner laughed, “Nah, the horn does most of it. Special talent and all…” He looked back at Silverstar, “I got the metals figured out, but the powders throwin’ me for a loop. Awfully similar to the stuff they use in fireworks, but it seems far too…” The stallion seemed to struggle for the words, “Clean. Where did you get this?”
“From the doctor,” Silverstar replied, “He dug it out of Little Strong Heart’s leg.”
“Wait? The little buffalo?” Forty-Niner said, “What happened?”
“Apparently that hit her leg and embedded itself by her bones, according to the doc.”
Forty-Niner whistled, in a tone that indicated simultaneous amazement and sympathy, as his attention turned back to the item. “Must have been moving really fast for that. How did that happen?”
“Something about a-“ Was all Silverstar got out.
“METAL BOXES!” Salty cried out, leaping from his previously-unconscious position, “METAL MONSTERS! There are metal monsters out in the desert! They gonna get us all!”
“Woah there!” Before either Silverstar or Forty-Niner could react, Mort had already jumped Salty and had the old pony pinned against his porch.
“That was quick.” The sheriff observed.
Mort snorted, “I have to deal with him every evening… and I believe ya’ll have seen me throw him out of the bar on a number of occasions.” He turned his attention to the still struggling Salty, “Calm down ya old foal! Snap out of it!”
Salty did seem to calm down somewhat, in that his struggle declined and he seemed to breathe easier, but he looked up at Silverstar and the Sheriff could see genuine panic in his eyes. “Sheriff! We’ve gotta evacuate the town! There’s metal monsters out in the desert!”
“Let him go Mort.” Silverstar ordered and the bartender complied. The sheriff knew Salty wasn’t a threat, despite the rather wild eyed ‘moods’ he sometimes got into. “Salty, what is this talk about metal monsters?”
“I was out in the desert when I heard a horrible rumblin’ sound and saw this great cloud of dust comin’ down on me.” Salty said, genuine fear in his voice, “I hid amidst some boulders and saw the… the metal monsters rolled by!”
“Roll by?”
“Yeah!” Salty was now shifting on his feet as he spoke, working himself up. Behind him, Mort tensed in case the old pony went nuts again. “They didn’t walk or slither like any ordinary ground creature, but they rolled on these great, big… tracks, I guess. But they were almost as big as Mort’s saloon! And they had huge bulbous metal heads, with great long snouts! And they belched black smoke from their rear ends!”
Silverstar got the impression that ‘belched’ wasn’t the right word, but he stood there taking in Salty’s words for a few moments. “Did ya see any kind of flying machine that looked like a bumblebee?”
The old stallion stopped in his tracks, his nervous tension rapidly replaced with confusion. “Uh… no, Sheriff. What kind of machine is that?”
Silverstar sighed, he should have known better than to take Salty at his word. He also knew better than to argue with the old pony. “Alright Salty, thanks for the tip. I’ll get word down to Salt Lick on the next train.”
Salty nodded rapidly at the sheriff, a new sense of urgency apparently taking over him, before he broke into a gallop with a speed that surprised even Mort.
“What was all that about a metal flying machine that looks like a bumblebee?” Forty-Niner asked.
“The Buffalo Chief said they saw one before Little Strong Heart got hurt.”
“Well, Salty’s always been a few horseshoes short of a complete set.” Forty-Niner said, “I reckon there ain’t anything to worry about from his little tale.”
“I suppose.” Silverstar said. He thought himself convinced enough, but something else was nagging at him… what was Salty doing out in the desert in the first place?

[SCENE BREAK]

Salty wasn’t an idiot. He knew what the townspeople thought of him, of his ideas. He didn’t fault them… most of the stuff he said he didn’t believe himself. He knew what was wrong and he didn’t really mind, at least not until now. Now he knew, he knew that the Sheriff didn’t believe him, he could see it in the stallion’s eyes. Salty cursed himself, he had been the foal who cried hydra!
He also realized that the sheriff knew more than he let on. That question about a flying machine, for instance. His old conspiratorial mind realigned with the extra information and came to a new conclusion: they were being invaded by aliens!
Salty ran out of town, back into the desert. When he had first seen the metal monsters roll by, he had tried to make it for the town taking the scenic route. This time, he would take the shorter route…
He knew those old weapons would come in handy one day.

“So…” Doctor Zelinsky said, as he observed the unconscious unicorn through a one-way window. “It is indeed intelligent?”
The room was only attached to the cell by a shatter-proof one-way window and a second hallway antechamber. Zelinsky had been called here with one of his assistants and the equipment he had just finished setting up because of an intriguing feature noticed by the scientist who had studied the unicorn. It was an incidental discovery and the data behind it was so incomplete that Zelinsky was partially convinced that it was balderdash.
The unicorn lay there a bandage added to its abdomen. The Terror Drones had accidentally inflicted some burns, but those were quickly treated.
He and his assistant were not alone in the room, of course. Commissar-General Lyvaskov was there as well and a third technician was monitoring some recording equipment, aided by a linguistic specialist. Standing guard at the back of the door were a pair of combat troops, one KGB and one army. In the connecting chamber waited two more men, one KGB and one Psi-Corps, who would conduct the actual interrogation of the creature.
“Your colleague, Doctor Barisov said as much.” The Commissar replied. The KGB General seemed to be staring at the prisoner as if he wasn’t sure that it was actually there. Zelinsky didn’t blame him, he was still having a hard time believing that there was a small azure unicorn in that room himself. “Surely you have seen his results?”
Zelinsky fidgeted unconsciously as he returned his attention to his equipment, “Barisov is a biologist. I am a physicist. My knowledge of his field is… incomplete.”
“I’m sure.” The Commissar replied.
Despite himself, Zelinsky flinched. Of course the scientist knew enough about brains to check through Barisov’s data, but he hadn’t had the time, the commissar had to know that. Fortunately, Lyvaskov didn’t appear keen to press the issue.
“The Psi-Corps confirmed it.” Lyvaskov added, off-handedly.
Ah yes, the Psi-Corps… those wonderfully secretive and vaguely-sinister bunch. If anybody knew everything humans needed to know about brains, Zelinsky reflected, it would be them. The thought turned his attention back to the features of the interrogation room: it was a standard interrogation room, although the chair that the prisoner would usually sit in was replaced with a small mattress. There was a question that Zelinsky had wanted to ask about the upcoming interrogation, but his squeamishness…
“So…” The scientist said, before pausing and starting again, “So are you going to be harsh with… uh, it?”
The Commissar gave a humored snort, “Are we going to torture it, you mean?”
Again, Zelinsky cringed, even as he nodded.
“No.” Lyvaskov said, taking a moment to light a cigarette. “You have seen too many bad American action dramas. Information gathered from physical torture is only to be considered reliable if the torture is applied with little-to-no-warning, the question is a yes-or-no one, and the answer is given inside of the first five minutes of the session starting. Otherwise…” The KGB man shrugged, “There is, of course, psychological manipulation. That works better, but takes time, which we don’t have… oh, and it assumes the target has the same psychology as humans.”
“I… uh… I see.” Zelinsky said, regretting ever asking the question. The way the Commissar had spoken about the subject was far too calm for his tastes. Looking at the unconscious unicorn in the interrogation room, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for the creature.
He sighed, it was through his intellect alone that he had managed to rise so high in the Soviet scientific community and intellectually he knew he should be swelling with self-esteem on that fact. But he was a nervous wreck, lacking ambition and completely devoid of self-esteem. The only advantage of it was that he was perceived as such a non-threat by his potential enemies that they never quite realized what had happened when he sped by them up the hierarchy. It was rather similar to Premier Romanov during the Great Purges, now that he thought about it… although the personalities involved were different, they were both misinterpreted and underestimated.
The door to the observation room swung open and Nikolai Ryzhkov entered the room. The civilian looked around for a moment before asking the obvious question, “Where are General Voroshilov and… the Psi-Corps man?”
“The General is busy getting some things coordinated.” Lyvaskov finished his cigarette and stabbed it out against the wall. “As for Comrade Vladimir… I do not know.”
“I… see.” Ryzhkov walked over to the observation window and looked through. He stood there for a good long time in disbelief. “Its… like something out of a fairy tale.” Zelinsky saw the Commissar roll his eyes at that.
Ryzhkov turned to the scientist, “Is it going to awaken soon?”
“She.” Lyvaskov pre-empted Zelinsky’s reply. “And I believe she is waking up now.”
The other two men turned to the window and realized the political officer was right… the unicorn was beginning to stir. Lyvaskov crossed the room and punched a button on the intercom. “Captain Chernov and comrade Lebedjev… you may proceed.”

[SCENE BREAK]

Trixie did not remember waking-up, so there was some confusion when she realized that she was currently staring at a simple, white wall. With that mental double take, the memories from earlier came flooding back and the show pony’s head shot up in alarm. She only breathed easier once a quick look around showed that there was no creature other than her in the room.
With her alarm subsiding, Trixie examined the room more thoroughly which, since there wasn’t much to look at, didn’t take long. She was sitting on a simple bench, which rested in front of a plain wooden table. Across the table she saw a chair… except its surface area seemed a little small for a pony to sit in.
It was then that Trixie noticed the bandage around on her side. They had been carefully applied right at the spot where the… thing had struck her.
What drew Trixie’s attention next was the lights… they weren’t the magic bulbous ones most Ponies used in place of candles, but some kind of big white strips built into the ceiling. Trixie quickly found that, also unlike the magic lights, they hurt her eyes and she averted her gaze, preventing any further examination.
Beyond that, the only other thing of any interest was the door in the left corner of the room on the other side of the table from Trixie. It looked oddly big to Trixie and she couldn’t make out any opening mechanism.
“Hello?” Trixie said stupidly and an instant later berated herself for the call. It was the kind of instinctive call that most people who just woke up in a strange place said even when they were blatantly alone and it made the show pony feel dumb.
Deciding there was no point in hanging around, she was about to hop off the bench and head for the door when she was startled by a loud, mechanical buzzing sound. The noise lasted for a second before being followed by an audible click and the door swung open.
Trixie stared at the two tall, bi-pedal creatures that entered the room. The first was clothed in some kind of vaguely bluish clothing with further… decorations pinned to its left upper section and wore a somewhat-peaked cap which was topped by a red star and what Trixie recognized as a hammer and sickle crossed over each other. The creature seemed to regard the unicorn with something akin to wary bemusement, as if it wasn’t entirely sure this was real… at least, that’s what Trixie thought. The creature’s face was unexpressive, from her perspective.
But it still showed much more emotion than the second, which wore clothing that hanged down from its body, the coattail lending it an intimidating appearance. But what Trixie found much more intimidating was that the creature had no apparent mane atop its head. Instead, some kind of strange metal contraption was attached to that part of the creature’s body and the unicorn could see some of the metal sinking into the creature’s… skin, if she remembered correctly.
The first creature sat down across from her and Trixie noted that it sat more like a dragon: with its back straight against the chair. Well, the creature was bi-pedal…
And it spoke to her, slowly, carefully, deliberately and in an utterly alien language. Trixie desperately tried to remember a translation spell and failed, instead just returning an incomprehensive look. The creature apparently noticed her look and sighed, turning to the other one, which had remained standing. The two conversed for a moment and then the standing creature looked straight at Trixie.
A shiver ran down her spine as the creature appeared to be staring right through the unicorn and into her very being. Yet Trixie found she couldn’t tear her gaze away…
“Greetings.” A stale voice in Trixie’s mind said.
Trixie literally leapt up, startled. The creature sitting across from her looked more alert but didn’t make any more movements. Instead, Trixie looked at the creature that was standing and voiced out loud, “Was that you?”
“Yes.” The voice in her mind… the creature’s voice… replied.
“What is this? Telepathy? How can you understand me?”
“Yes, this is telepathy.” The creature replied through her mind. “As for how… the language of the mind is the same no matter the animal in question. When you speak, you think directly of what you are saying and those thoughts become clear to me.”
“So-“ Trixie began.
“What is your name?”
“Eh?” Trixie blinked, surprised at being interrupted. Surprise turned to anger and the unicorn huffed as she finally began to adjust to the situation, her old arrogance reasserting itself. “I am Trixie! The Great and Powerful! Famous through all the land of Equestria as the most powerful Unicorn to have ever lived!”
To the show pony’s chagrin, the creature ignored her for a moment and spoke to its comrade. They underwent a brief exchange before the bald-one turned back to her.
“I am Lebedjev, of the Soviet Psi-Corp.” It… no he, Trixie could definitely identify a male touch to Lebedjev’s voice, said. “This is Chernov, a Captain in the Committee for State Security. Now: you say this land is Equestria?”
“Yes!” Trixie said.
“You said you were the most powerful Unicorn to have ever lived?”
“Yes!” Trixie said, getting carried away with herself as usual. So what if it wasn’t true? She had an audience and she was a show mare… and the show had to go on even if it wasn’t a grander event! “The Great and Powerful Trixie’s magic has defeated even the dreaded Ursa Major! Only the princesses possess more magic!”
Instead of pressing any further Lebedjev immediately turned to Chernov and apparently translated what she had said. Something she said must have come as a surprise because the two became engaged in an apparently heated conversation. As they talked, Trixie found her more logical mind asserting itself with its own questions, discomforting ones: where was she? What were these two creatures, apparently named Lebedjev and Chernov? What was the Committee for State Security? Why had they apparently brought her here?
The discomfort only grew when Lebedjev turned and asked her: “You mentioned Princesses, as in more than one?”
“Yes…” Trixie replied, wondering why they were focusing on that.
“Who are they?”
“Well… wait…” Trixie said, looking at Lebedjev squarely, “Trixie has questions of her own! Like what kind of creature are you, and why have you apparently brought me here?”
Lebedjev turned and conversed with Chernov for a moment, annoying Trixie even more.
Finally, Lebedjev turned back and transmitted: “We are sure you have many questions, and you may ask them when we are done asking you. To answer your first question quickly: we are humans. But please, try and help us out.”
Trixie sat there for a moment, her nervousness fading a little at the reassurance. Somewhere in her subconscious, a piece of her mind told her that she was accepting this too easily but it went unnoticed to the unicorn’s attention. She gave an annoyed snort before speaking, “Very well, ask away.”
“Again, who are the princesses you mentioned earlier?”

[SCENE BREAK]

Trixie didn’t know how long the question session went on, but she very rapidly came to realize that her audience was completely ignorant about Equestria. It was as if they didn’t even come from this planet! They asked her about the kingdom, about the various ponies, about the governments, about the economy, and quite a bit about magic.
She struggled with some of the questions and every time she tried to interject or ask a counter-question they would deflect it with something like “We will answer later” or “Please focus, there will come a time for your questions.”
And she accepted it, despite a growing unease, she accepted it. She answered to the best of her ability and when they presented a question that she didn’t know the answer to, she said as much and they moved on to another question.
Finally, after a non-stop flurry of questions, there came a moment of silence as the human named Chernov leaned back and seemed to consider something. Then, like before, he spoke to Lebedjev.
“Thank you Trixie, for your cooperation.” The human transmitted.
Trixie gave a self-satisfied smile, “You are welcome. Trixie is pleased she could offer her significant knowledge… now, if I may-“
“I think not.” The human interrupted.
Trixie barely managed to process that message before something seemed to metaphorically come down on her conscious like a ton of bricks. Whatever it was, it didn’t hurt but suddenly Trixie felt herself bombarded by thoughts as if her brain had decided to go overtime on her memories. She froze up for what seemed like an eternity, but was actually two or three seconds, before the chaotic flood was replaced with one, simple command: “Sleep.”
And with that the unicorn fell over, instantly unconscious.

[SCENE BREAK]

“And no other objects allowed.” Lyvaskov finished, speaking into a landline, attached to the intercom. It was a short while later and a group of soldiers had carried off the unconscious Unicorn… ‘Pony’…. to a detention cell. The KGB man had called ahead, issuing further instructions on modifying the cell’s set-up based on the interrogation.
It was bizarre how quickly he was coming to terms with the situation, but maybe that was because he had already become gripped by a more serious crisis looming before him: the issue of authority. The job of the KGB agents attached to the
Soviet military was to act as watchdogs, to ensure they remained subservient to the civilian authorities. Of course, this meant that the KGB had power to and was a partial reason behind some of the… excesses of the Stalin-era. But the Psi-Corps was a new and frightening counter-balance to both the KGB and the military, even though they were technically part of the latter.
The political officers attached to Soviet military units were much less powerful now than they were under Stalin, but they still could investigate possibly treasonous activity by an officer and, if the evidence warranted it, bring him to the attention of the rest of the Soviet security apparatus. But it was a system that required the support of the rest of the Soviet Union and Lyvaskov had rapidly realized during the interrogation that the rest of the Soviet Union was no longer available… quite likely permanently.
In the face of that problem, even the Unicorn couldn’t hold the commissar’s attention for long. He didn’t let on the slightest bit about his worries to those around him… no use giving Voroshilov ideas. Lyvaskov knew of Voroshilov’s history, he knew about the picture of Ivan Konev, the infamous ‘Butcher of Hamburg’, which the general had hung up in his private office. The man had all the signs of a monster every bit as ruthless as Konev… the last thing the USSR needed was this man in a meaningful command. The history of Stalin and the current association with Al-Fulani in the Middle East and that Gaddafi figure in North Africa casted something of a bad mark on the Soviet Union. It was a mark that the Chicago fiasco only cemented, bringing the otherwise neutral Europeans and their associates into the war.
“This is… astonishing, comrade commissar.” That was Ryzhkov. The civilian seemed overwhelmed by all the new information. Lyvaskov was a little overwhelmed himself for different reasons, but he schooled his appearance carefully… there was a kind of social art to being a political officer.
There was another worry reaching into the commissar’s mind now and it was one they would all have to face. He waited to see if the party man would get it.
“Indeed?” Lyvaskov said, “What do you make of it all, comrade Ryzhkov?”
“Well, it’s clear that we have a whole new civilization in front of us!” The civilian said, apparently missing the blatantly obvious, “This is momentous! A whole new civilization, of aliens, on an entirely… new… world… oh…” Now he got it, “But… our home.”
“But our home indeed.” Lyvaskov turned towards Zelinsky. The scientist seemed to be overly focused on his machinery, muttering something with his assistant. The political officer took the opportunity to walk unnoticed directly behind the man and loudly cleared his throat. The sight of seeing him jump a little brightened Lyvaskov’s otherwise grim mood by just a smidge. “And what do you make of it all, comrade Zelinsky?”
“I-uh…” Zelinsky’s nervousness had apparently reasserted itself in full. His eyes darted in both directions as he tried to reply, like he was expecting to be attacked from the side. “I was… intrigued by some readings in the cell… I hope to look over the data and-“
“Look over the data all you want.” Lyvaskov cut the doctor off, “You have plenty of time now.”
And then without waiting for any reply, the political officer simply strolled out of the observation room as if nothing was wrong…
But so much was.

Earlier…

Braeburn sat silently at Little Strong Heart’s side like he had for… a few hours now, he supposed. The only further company was the doctor stopping by, asking them how they were doing. The cowpony was actually starting to ache a little and just considering laying down when Strong Heart stirred.
“Strong Heart?” Braeburn asked as the buffalo in question looked blearily around, “You feel alright lil’ missy?”
Strong Heart chuckled, a number of Appleloosans called her that and she found the nickname rather amusing seeing how she was actually slightly bigger than a number of them. “Yes, a little stiff, but otherwise I am fine.”
“That’s good.” Braeburn nodded. “Doctor said you’ll be up and moving by tomorrow…”
A few moments of silence passed between them as the initial well of conversation dried up. A kind of awkward tension hung in the air, something Braeburn had not felt since the build-up to the incident with the grove.
Strong Heart was the one who broke the silence and in a quite surprising manner: by bursting into tears. Alarmed, Braeburn shot to his feet but before he could take any more action, Strong Heart burst out, “They killed Taking Easy!”
The amber yellow pony was completely unable to react as the buffalo immediately launched into a tear-filled explanation: the flying machine, the strange creatures within, the fate which befell the body of Taking Easy. When it ended, Braeburn was left sitting there, having to play mental catch up as Strong Heart cried.
Finally things set in and Braeburn’s emotions turned from shock to anger. But it was an anger tempered by the need to help a friend. He wrapped a hoof around Strong Heart and carefully pulled her into a hug, letting her cry into his shoulder. “There, there… it wasn’t your fault at all. Those… critters, which you said rode in the flying machine, those are the ones you should be blaming.”
“But…” Strong Heart said through her sobs, “I should have done something more! I should have knocked Taking Easy out of the way or-“
Braeburn was not just going to let Strong Heart drive herself into despondency like that, “There was no way you could have known. It can be tough to lose somepo-somebody you care about, but it happens.”
“Not like this.” Strong Heart muttered, her voice muffled by Braeburn’s shoulder “Buffalo are supposed to go peacefully after a good life, in the care and company of their tribe. Not... cut down violently.”
“That is how things should be, and how things are supposed to be with us Ponies too. But things do not always turn out like that… I’m sorry.” Braeburn paused as he recalled a bit of buffalo lore, “I’m sure Taking Easy is stampeding towards the herd of his ancestors, even now.”
Braeburn was silent now and remained so for a few more seconds, then she settled back out of the hug and into her bed. Braeburn let her go, seeing that even though her face was matted with tears, Strong Heart now had a little smile. “Thank you, Braeburn.”
The Earth Pony grinned, “Not a problem at all. After all, what are friends for?”
Strong Heart looked like she was going to reply with something witty, when it happened. A strange humming sound, almost halfway to a constant groan had started to intrude into the room as Braeburn had spoken, but only now had it risen to a noticeable level.
“What in tarnation…” Braeburn breathed as the humming sound seemed to reach a zenith, then receded even more quickly than it had arrived. Strong Heart and Braeburn looked at each other, the same thought running through their minds: that was odd.

Loud. There was really no other single word that could describe the experience of flying in the Tupolev reconnaissance plane so succinctly. The Tu-94 was loud, the noisiest aircraft on the face of the planet. It was easy to see why: its pair of contra-rotating turboprop engines rotated so fast that the propeller tips literally broke the sound barrier. If it wasn’t for their ear protection, the entire crew would have been rendered stone deaf in seconds.
But even through the headsets, the crewmembers had to shout into their mouthpieces to be heard and hearing problems among Tu-94 crews were endemic.
Still the Tu-94 could fly high and was the fastest propeller-driven aircraft in the world. Outfitted with some of the most sophisticated electronic warfare equipment Soviet industry could manufacture, the aircraft was an ideal reconnaissance platform that could only be reached by the Allies latest interceptors.
Like the rest of the base personnel, the Frontal Aviation personnel had been surprised by the strange and sudden transfer. However, the crew of this particular aircraft had taken things in stride until they were ordered into the air. From the moment they left the air strip, they immediately realized something was very wrong; the clouds were far lower than they appeared from the ground, far lower than they should or even could have been. A conservative estimate had the lowest one only a dozen meters off the ground!
The aircrew had grown ever more astonished as they continued their flight path. The desert was completely unfamiliar and unmapped, with only the way-point beacon of the base serving as an electromagnetic landmark. At first the towns were a welcome relief to the crewmembers… until the reconnaissance specialist saw their inhabitants through the aircraft’s observation scopes.
The word had spread fast amongst the crew: a town of ponies! With a railroad showing signs of even more! It was ridiculous! At first, many of the aircrew refused to believe it even after seeing the feed from the plane’s cameras. But as the aircraft, on orders from base, followed the rail line, they came across more and more towns, some smaller and some larger than the first, but all inhabited by ponies.
The crew was both fascinated and confused as they watched these ponies go about their lives, and they observed the supposedly mythological versions working with the regular-looking ones; Pegasus flying through the air and unicorns chatting on the ground. Many of the ponies would glance up, probably at the noise, as the airplane droned overhead, but the aircraft was too high to be seen as anything but a pinprick in the sky. Only contrails could have really given the plane away, but the conditions were not right.
The airplane had come across its first real city, although compared to Soviet cities it was still rather pint-sized, resting at the foot of a large mountain range and made a large number of passes before they were ordered back. The aircraft had only flown a fraction of the distance it could have and there were still enormous quantities of fuel left in the tanks, but the crew didn’t voice even a grumble, they were too overwhelmed for that.
Of course, even as the aircraft turned for home, the images and other sensor information it gathered had been transmitted back to the Soviet base in real-time. The combined info of the interrogated Unicorn, the biological examinations, and now an actual reconnaissance flight very rapidly led to another meeting called by General Voroshilov.

Headquarters, Soviet Military-Industrial Complex, Painted Pinto Desert…

Oddly enough, General Voroshilov was not there when the various commanders and Nikolai Ryzhkov turned up. Lyvaskov kept his appearance straight while his mind roiled, Voroshilov was not the only one missing… the Psi-Corps Head and Doctor Zelinsky were also absent.
When Voroshilov finally showed up and Lyvaskov had a new piece of trouble to add to his state of mind: the General had entered with Doctor Zelinsky… although the Psi-Corps Head remained strangely absent. “Comrades, at ease and be seated.”
The salutes dropped and the various officers sat down as Lieutenant Ialovskii, who had arrived ahead of the General, passed around copies of paper. The various men frowned when they saw the labels, it was a recent report from the local observatory.
“Comrades, I am afraid it has been confirmed… we are no longer on our home planet or even in our home universe.”
One of the colonels didn’t even get past the title page, instead he looked up incredulously, “With respect… how can you be so sure, Comrade General?”
“Because the sun does not orbit around Earth, Comrade Colonel.” Voroshilov replied evenly.
Perhaps the only way he could have gotten a greater reaction was if he had shot one of them. In spite of all their discipline, that absurd tidbit was too much for the assembled men. The room broke out into arguing and shouts of disbelief.
“QUIET!” Lyvaskov yelled, immediately silencing the furor. “You are officers of the Soviet Red Army! Act like it, not like a bunch of squabbling children!”
“Thank you, comrade Commissar.” Voroshilov said, “Whatever you may have believed previously, the evidence is overwhelming. I understand that our… unexpected guest was enough of a shock, but it has also provided the brilliant Doctor Zelinsky with a means to see us home.”
He nodded towards the scientist, who hesitantly stepped forward. “I was observing the data collected during the interrogation of the… intruder when I noticed an unusual reading.”
The explanation took a while, but long before it was done, the alarm bells were going off in Lyvaskov’s head. When the doctor finally finished, silence held for only a few moments. Major Malashenko was the one to speak up and ask a rather obvious question.
“How… how many of the…” the Major paused to shake his head, “Unicorns… do we need?”
“Impossible to say for certain without much more study and a wider sample of, ah… specimens,” Zelinsky took his glasses off and wiped them on his shirt nervously, “At least a few hundred, likely more.”
“A few hundred…” The Frontal Aviation Colonel said in disbelief. “Probably more… and we should just expect a few hundred to just wander in here. I read the second report, there is an entire civilization of ponies out there. Are we to kidnap them in the dead of the night like some crackpot American mid-westerner’s tale?”
The man must have been deployed in the United States, Lyvaskov thought.
Then finally General Voroshilov threw down the gauntlet. “Of course not… our only option is to take them.”
And the Commissar pounced. “I’m afraid, Comrade General that is out of line.”
General Voroshilov had not been expecting that from the Commissar. After he recovered from the surprise, his face grew heated. “This is not 1939, Comrade Commissar. The dual-command system-“
“The long dead dual-command system is not relevant here. You are overstepping your authority, Comrade General, you are making policy. That is not the job of the military… that is the job of the State.”
“Oh… well then I suppose I’ll ring Moscow for instructions.” General Voroshilov’s sarcasm was thick, “Use your head, comrade! This is the clearest shot we have at going home! Would you deny our soldiers from seeing their country and their families again?!”
Lyvaskov was actually taken aback. He had not considered the soldiers’ view on things. Most of the scientists, engineers, and officers’ families lived on base… but the rest of the personnel’s families lived back in the Soviet Union, including most of the KGB troops.
The Commissar’s position was even weaker than he thought. Instead he fell back on older communist ideology… a bad choice.
“Still, we cannot have instruments of the State make decisions on its behalf.”
Voroshilov glared at him, but the glare subtly changed after a few moments and the general looked at the ignored figure in the room. “Comrade Ryzhkov? What do you think?”
The party-man had been quiet this whole time. The emotional and mental toll of all of the revelations made had left him stunned. Hence, he was wholly unprepared to be the sudden center-of-attention. “What?”
“You are the highest civilian representative of the Soviet Government, and hence the Soviet State, we are in contact with.” The General stared down at the man, “Do we go to war with these Equestrians or not?”
“Ryzhkov is-“ Lyvaskov began.
“RYZHKOV IS THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN MAKE THE DECISION!” Voroshilov bellowed, leaping up. For a terrified moment, Lyvaskov was concerned the General would draw his sidearm. But instead the man reigned everything in and looked at Ryzhkov. “Comrade?”
The party-man looked desperately around, only to find all eyes on him. Finally, he slumped down in his chair and sighed. “Fine… Comrade Major-General Voroshilov… I agree to your recommendation and instruct the forces available to the Red Army to take the necessary measures you request to fulfill this… plan.”
“Thank you, Comrade.” Voroshilov looked over the assembled men, “We will meet back here at first light. Do not be late. Dismissed”
As the meeting broke-up, nobody saw the silent, robed figure standing in the corner of the room. The Psi-Corps Agent’s eyes tracked Lyvaskov as the group exited the room, silently analyzing the KGB man…

End Chapter

A/N: Well after much distraction from that computer virus, Battlefield 3, Skyrim, Saints Row the Third, an obscure-but-addicting game called Anno 2070, and plain old procrastination, I present to you chapter 4 of this story!
You guys are still following this, right? Right?
The Tu-94 is, quite obviously, based off the Tu-95 bomber/maritime patrol aircraft/recon plane/ cruise missile truck. If you’ve played Yuri’s Revenge, it’s the plane that does the over flight when you use the Soviet reconnaissance ability. That isn’t its actual in-game name, just one I came up with on the spot.
Well I must say that season 2 has been causing me to go a little nuts in regards to screwing with this stories fanon (notice how I said ’this stories’ fanon and not ‘my fanon’), but I have everything ordered out now. Suffice to say, ponies do not know of the same bullets as humans.
Their tanks are also different… and cannons are more recreational… Yes, I am aware of all the stuff from the latest episodes. Everything will be explained when the time comes.
If the time comes, I still have a lot more to get out of Skryim.