A maroon colored pony with a fluffy magenta mane and short glittery tail waited at his computer. His vibrant color and cuteness were beyond this realm. He hailed from Equestria, a magical land somewhere a few mountains east of here. The pony tongued the keyboard and the screen lit up.
DERPA: The Defense Equine Research Project Agency.
He noticed the computer to his left, powered down, with somepony’s controlled access card still inserted into the card reader. Using his lips he pulled the cac-card out for examination. He whinnied in amusement. The card belonged to the blue stallion named Noteworthy, number 23, “is very helpful and remembers everything.”
He put Noteworthy’s card in a leg pouch, and then tongued the keypad furiously to log in to the network as ‘Sprinkles.Sparkle\Greeley\Army\Mil’.
His earpiece chirped, and Noteworthy spoke over the radio, “Sparkle, our can is still in the intermodal yard at port. It didn’t make the damn train.”
“Son of a bitch! Why! Customs and Border Protection is probably giving ten-thousand stuffed alicorns full cavity searches…” Sparkle composed himself. “Where are you?”
“I was in the office a little bit ago. I have the trots. I’ll be back as soon,” splat, plop, plop, splat, “soon as I’m done blowing my asshole out.”
“Well okay then,” the call ended with Sparkle succumbing to laughter.
A human Army captain in dress uniform carrying a medical bag walked in to the computer stall, not wearing his protective glasses, and evidently thinking he was about to examine an ordinary pony. Sparkle neighed to the human, “No! Do not look!”
“Well I have never seen a pony this cute before. Are you the one with the trots?”
“Close your eyes look away sir!” Sparkle knew that some humans were resistant while others were more sensitive. Any human will be overcome in time, with sufficient exposure to excessive cuteness, if protective equipment is not worn.
The Army veterinarian clutched his beret, smiling profusely. The medical bag struck the stone floor. “Hee! Hee-hee! Cute…too…cute! D’aaw!” The captain possessed enough gumption to endure for a second and safely ease himself onto the floor, whereupon he thrashed his limbs and smiled so wide that he could have torn his own lips apart. It smelled like pee.
“Well, I’m not that damn cute! Listen to how grouchy and horse…I mean hoarse I sound. Come on!”
It’s called a “cute overload.” He will return to service in a full day, maybe sooner, once postictal impairments have improved.
Two mornings later, October 28 at zero-nine-fifteen hours, the sun was beginning to brighten the steely clouds beyond tall spindly tree trunks. Puddles of mud were in the process of crystallizing, aided by the rapid heat loss of a gusty west wind.
Sparkles Sprinkle was on a mission to keep people and ponies safe.
His ears scanned like radar dishes. There could be more of them. There should be. But, there were not.
The mission of Haasbro and the mission of whomever Sprinkles Sparkle fell under was the same mission. But Haasbro didn’t know it, and they were incapable of knowing it. They were not here to share the magic of friendship. They were here to do their job. Beyond hundreds of trees, two hundred meters on, humans blipped. He listened intently. He heard echoes of men trying to move surreptitiously. This was soon erased by the plinking sound of ice pellets. They fell in earnest, on a blasted needle wind now, enveloping all in a background hiss and whitening the ground.
Sparkle snapped his head back with the weapons-bit dangling from his bridle. He caught it in his teeth.
He winked a certain way to activate the corneal overlay interface on his left eyeball. This allowed him to see, and to control with thought, a small display of translucent green text and symbols and a menu. The color varied depending on environmental factors, and right now green was the best color. He brought up the map. In a moment he figured out exactly where he was by looking for features in the surrounding topology and looking at his altimeter and remembering landmark features he had crossed or passed by. Global positioning systems were not available, nor did he want them. All he needed was geographic information systems (digital terrain models and points of interest) and his pony brain, for this mission.
He took a call from the Colonel. “Sparkle. The train is dropping cars off at the junction. Our container is there for eastbound pickup at fifteen hundred. DERPCOM has confirmed personnel available with a loader and a flatbed. I will advise.”
“Yes sir.” Another call had been waiting. It would be Noteworthy on that channel.
He groveled, “What you got for me?”
“Thou art, the great Sprinkles Sparkle, yes?” The feminine, boisterous, authoritative voice asked.
No time for jokes. “Come on! Stop jamming me up, you asshole!”
She spoke again, “Silence! Are we a surprise to you?”
“How did you…” He still could not believe it.
“Magic, my dear subject. Now, tell me, what are your orders?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do not play me for a foal. You are tasked with intercepting a rail car which you believe contains…ten thousand Luna plushies. Am I correct thus far?”
Sparkle could see the rail line, trotting, Haasbro was way behind. “I don’t know. What do you want?”
“I want the night…to last…forever! Ha-ha-ha!”
Sparkle whinnied. “Noteworthy. Go clop off.”
The response was her laugh, the laugh, the Nightmare Moon laugh. It was not a prank. It was she; the evil giddy giggle confirmed it.
“Now, Sparkle. I am expecting somepony of your intelligence, to use this opportunity, to pledge your allegiance to me and the new lunar republic. I am ready when you are, just repeat after me…”
Sparkle gave a terse “No.” Within a minute the air had thickened with silent powdery snow, Sparkle’s coat was plastered, and the rail line was no longer visible.
Luna was trying to lick his ear over the radio, the way she cooed the words. “It is going to be a long night. Fifteen hours and three minutes. When you fall asleep I shall be waiting for you.” She terminated the call.
He found shelter in an abandoned pump house by a rushing creek and talked to Colonel Shining Armor about the latest plot twist. “What is it with the plushies? I at least want, give me something to nibble on, if you can.”