The basement door slammed open. A smoke grenade flew into the room, spewing noxious fumes. Fluttershy and Hoops coughed and wheezed, but Con Mane removed a gas mask from his tuxedo. As two PPP militants rushed in, he ducked under a table.
“Hooves where I can see them, prisoners!” one masked militant exclaimed. He and his comrade pointed rifles at the pegasi. Fluttershy held up her hooves, but Hoops was too weak to do so.
Two muzzle flashes erupted from out of the grey, and the militants fell to the ground. Con Mane rummaged around until he found a key, and with a quick clank, removed the shackles from the pegasi. Fluttershy gave Con Mane a giant bear hug.
“Thank you!” she exclaimed. But Hoops had passed out on the ground, unconscious from the gas.
Con Mane levitated Hoops onto his back.
“We’ve no time to lose,” Mane said. “To the extraction point!”
He emerged from the cellar, the wooden steps creaking under his and Hoops’ combined weight, with Fluttershy following along. A hot blast of desert night air hit them. The flickering street lights shone down, illuminating clouds of gnats. Several of the lights were out.
They rushed down the streets, almost entirely abandoned save for a few homeless people. As they neared a corner, Con Mane took cover behind a wall.
“Reports of shooting… another pegasus raid?”
“I don’t know. Let’s investigate.”
Mane’s horn illuminated. A projected doppleganger walked out from behind the corner, then proceeded into view of the militants.
“Evening, sirs,” the decoy said.
“Who are you?” asked the first militant, his hoofsteps getting closer.
“A journalist from Trotland.”
“Where’s his press badge?”
“I don’t see one. Sir, you should be hunkering down in a cellar. Don’t you know it’s unsafe out here with all the explosions?”
The real Con Mane chuckled. “Quite.”
He lobbed a grenade around the corner at his decoy. A few seconds later, the shockwave burst down the street, spraying dirt, metal fragments, and body parts everywhere. Fluttershy winced and covered her eyes, her ears ringing.
Mane, Hoops, and Fluttershy hustled past the blackened spot in the street. At the end of the street, a warehouse stood with smashed and broken windows. Con Mane ducked beside the bay door, his horn illuminating as it opened. Inside stood a shining silver sports convertible, its sleek body glistening.
Once he checked inside and saw nopony there, Con Mane gently placed Hoops in the backseat. He hopped into the driver’s seat, with Fluttershy riding shotgun. The car roared to life as he turned the key. He slammed the gas pedal, rocketing down the street, past the two dead militants.
As he sharply rounded a corner, smashing over a garbage can in the way, two Pest Control APC’s raced down the street towards him. Gunfire whizzed past him and Fluttershy, as she cowered down. He turned around, firing back with a rocket-propelled grenade. The first APC burst into flames, but the second continued its pursuit.
Con Mane ducked down at the continued gunfire, peering his head up just to the bottom of the windshield. The sports car continued onto a short bridge, and he jerked the steering wheel. The tires screeched, and the car slammed through the guardrail, off the bridge, and onto a perpendicular train track three meters below. Fluttershy’s head jolted at the impact, though Mane was unfazed.
Mane leadhoofed the pedal, as the car raced down the railroad. Three motorcycles with two riders apiece jumped the bridge as well, landing on the tracks. Their wheels bumped up and down along the ties as they closed in on the sports car. They fired machine guns, denting the back bumper but missing the tires. Con Mane pressed a button, and an oil slick coated the railroad. One bike skidded and crashed. Off in the distance, a train whistle blew.
“Fluttershy, take the wheel, if you would. Don’t move a muscle,” said Con Mane. He shifted out of his seat, into the back seat with Hoops, levitating Fluttershy into position. Her front hooves were on the steering wheel’s ten and two, while her hind hoof compressed the gas pedal to the floor. Fluttershy had never driven a car before in her life, and would normally be freaking out, but Con Mane’s smooth demeanor and flawless transition gave her ease. She kind of liked the wind whipping her mane, and this was faster than she could even fly. All she had to do was stay perfectly still as Con Mane had placed her... easier said than done, given the rattling of the car over the railroad ties, and the oncoming train.
A train whistle angrily tooted, the conductor waving his hoof out of the locomotive. To either side of the rails stood the brick walls and wooden siding of Dodge Junction homes, shops, and warehouses. There wasn’t enough of a gap to the sides for the sports car to drive around the train! Fluttershy had to resist the urge to slam on the brakes as the train closed in, first at two hundred meters, then at one hundred and ninety...
“Keep going, Fluttershy. I have a plan,” said Con Mane.
Behind her, he fired a sniper rifle over the backseat towards the remaining two motorcycles. One of them tipped over, slamming into a brick wall. Mane levitated a syringe out of a duffel bag, injecting the unconscious Hoops. Fluttershy raised an eyebrow as she watched all this through the rearview mirror, but kept the car pointed straight towards the oncoming train. The train’s brakes squealed and emitted sparks from the tracks in vain—there wasn’t enough room to stop. The rearview mirror shattered from the biker’s bullets.
“Eek!” Fluttershy shouted, but her courage kept her pointing the car straight.
“What the… ugh…” Hoops moaned.
“The pain will soon subside. Now, when I say so, both of you fly out in front of the car,” said Con Mane.
Two ropes from the duffel bag floated out, snaking around Fluttershy and Hoops’s torsos, forming tight harnesses. The other two ends snaked through holes on the car’s front bumper. Con Mane got back into the driver’s seat, pressing a button. A turbocharger accelerated the vehicle. The train now was twenty meters away… ten…
“Now, pegasi!” Mane shouted.
Hoops and Fluttershy ascended, Hoops flying on his broken wing, as the ropes went taut and they pulled the car upward. The bottom of the car glowed a weak green as Con Mane poured all of his levitation magic into helping lift the car. Its tires slowly left the track, and it just barely soared over the train, its front bumper clipping the smokestack on the way up.
“The city is called Dodge for a reason,” Con Mane quipped.
The car soared over the top of the train, as the pursuing motorcycle collided with the locomotive, bursting into flames.
“YEAH! WE DID IT!” Fluttershy shouted.
Hoops collapsed and fell into the backseat, leaving only Fluttershy, Mane, and the turbocharger keeping the car aloft. With his hoof, Mane threw bricks from a duffel bag full of plastic explosives down onto the train cars, which said “Mareicopa Railways” on the side. It undoubtedly contained hundreds of machine guns, grenades, and other weapons destined for the terrorists, Fluttershy thought. As Mane’s magic and Fluttershy’s wings gave out, the car slowly started descended back towards the ground, hitting the tracks again just as the caboose passed them by. Once they were at a safe distance, Con Mane pushed a button on a remote control. The entire train exploded behind them, a tremendous shockwave rocking the whole city.
They were now out of the city limits of Dodge Junction, past the Pest Control roadblocks. They drove northwest towards the Equestrian Republic-controlled military base.
Manehattan Cabinet Meeting Room
All of Rainbow Dash’s cabinet members high-hoofed each other. Fluttershy stood with Dash near the head of the table.
“Let’s give a round of applause to Fluttershy for her bravery!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed.
Everyone screamed and hollered. Pound Cake whistled loudly. Fluttershy blushed cherry red.
“Thanks, everypony…” she said. “I’m just so glad to be back.”
A tear dripped from her eye.
Rainbow Dash asked, “Do you need some time to rest, or…”
Fluttershy shook her head. “No. The terrorists were really mean and nasty, but I think that the best way to get back at them, and the best way for me to recover, is to just get right back to work.”
“That’s the spirit!” said Lyra Heartstrings.
“A good day’s work always gets my mind off of my troubles… unless my trouble has something to do with work,” said Organized Labor.
Everypony chuckled.
Doctor Stable smiled. “A good night’s rest might be needed, but other than a few bruises and some minor weight loss, Fluttershy is in good health. If a patient both feels and appears well enough to work, I certainly won’t argue!”
“Alright, let’s get straight to business,” said Rainbow Dash. “How soon can we liberate Dodge Junction, and then go on to the other Palomino cities like El Lasso, Albuckerque… maybe even Mareicopa?”
“Mareicopa might be a while, but Dodge Junction is doable pretty soon. We have the city about halfway surrounded right now,” said General Spitfire.
Starlight Glimmer smiled. “My Equals have been softening up some military targets in the city: police stations, occupied government buildings, roadblocks, terrorist training camps, homes—”
“Um… Starlight Glimmer…” Fluttershy started. Glimmer turned to Fluttershy.
“I hate to interrupt you, but while I was in captivity, I heard some bad things about what your guys were doing. That they were firing at civilian homes and schools…”
Fluttershy trailed off as Glimmer narrowed her eyebrows. “You can’t believe everything that other ponies tell you, Fluttershy, especially if they’re terrorists torturing you.”
“Well, they showed me pictures…”
“Any operation is bound to have some collateral damage, Fluttershy,” said General Spitfire. “The Equals’ help in softening up the city is valuable. Normally, I wouldn’t encourage or support untrained volunteer battalions, as Pound knows from his ASDF militia days in Appleloosa.”
Pound Cake nodded.
Spitfire continued, “But I can use all the help I can get. In the past few weeks, around 30% of our overall regular army has abandoned their posts...”
“Thirty percent!?”
“What!?”
“Seriously?”
Spitfire solemnly nodded. “That’s almost a hundred thousand troops, if you’re keeping score. There’s the ones who defected to Mareicopa, and then the battalions that defected to Dodge Junction. Though only about thirty thousand soldiers have outright switched sides. The rest have simply deserted, walked off the base, or resigned. I haven’t seen a military crisis of confidence this bad since Cloudsdale. That’s just the army. Recall that not a single navy ship answers to President Dash or myself, though we do have the Uneighted Kingdom’s navy on our side.”
“Hopefully our solar and lunar committees can get the tides figured out so Soarin will listen to us again,” said Rainbow Dash.
Spitfire chuckled. “I doubt it; he can be pretty stubborn. Though we can hope there will be a mutiny against his rule and at least a few ships come back to us. We’ll need them, and the army, to take back Tall Tale and Vanhoover when the time comes.”
“Speaking of,” said Organized Labor. “I know it’s a tangent, but Big Macintosh and I have some big plans for Tall Tale and Vanhoover, if you’d like to hear them.”
“Eeyup,” said Big Macintosh.
“You’ve done a great job spreading the wealth and creating jobs so far,” said Rainbow.
“We could all use some good news. Let’s hear what the Northwest has to look forward to when it comes back into Equestria,” said Pound.
Organized Labor said, “It’ll be a boon to get those ports back. We’ll increase trade, increase taxes on the rich, and lower our deficit. The logging industry will be redirected towards building reasonably-sized housing for the homeless. We won’t let them sell to toothpick makers, or overly-large subdivision or mansion developers anymore. And, as Fluttershy would want, we won’t let them cut down any areas that beavers have made their homes.”
Fluttershy smiled.
Organized Labor continued, “The vineyards will be reformed, too. Think of all of that northwestern farmland being used for grapes that get turned into wine. Millions of wine bottles just sit in rich ponies’ cellars for years, not doing anyone any good. Instead of being made into wine, those grapes could just be eaten immediately by the poor and starving. When we retake Tall Tale, Ponies like Berry Punch won’t be allowed to profit from such crapulence anymore!”
Everypony applauded.
“Let’s not forget that zebras and ponies will be equal as well, under the Equality Act. Those people will be glad that they’ll no longer be living under a fundamentalist government,” said Starlight Glimmer.
“I have another piece of good news,” said Raindrops. “In Cloudsdale, protests are picking up against President Lightning Dust. The cops have killed twenty protesters, and Dust won’t back down, but neither will they. I think that we might have another revolution on our hooves, and this protest movement is itching to get back into Equestria and have an accountable government.”
Rainbow Dash smiled. “Awesome! Hear that, Featherweight? You’ll get to go back to Las Pegasus without needing a passport! And think of all of those thirsty ponies in Equestria we can water with your desalination plant. I hear Applewood’s in a drought, but not for long!”
Featherweight glanced up from the table.
“Yeah, cool,” he muttered, then glanced back down.
“We’re getting off subject here,” said Spitfire. “Anyway, we’ll move into Dodge Junction as soon as we have it entirely surrounded, then we’ll mop up from street to street. Now that they don’t have any hostages, it should be easier, but you never know what they’re capable of…”
Cloudsdale
Thunderclaps, shouting, and the howling of wind filled the skies above Cloudsdale. Freezing sleet and golf-ball sized hail pelted the floating buildings below, smashing glass and denting vehicles. Hundreds of pegasi flew in every direction, screaming and flying away from the mayhem. A brave few weathered the storm: hundreds of uniformed police officers and thousands of protesters. This was no freak act of nature: it was a griffon and pegasus protest. In Cloudsdale, rather than fighting the police with molotovs and rocks, the Encampment-inspired movement against President Lightning Dust fought with thunderbolts and golf-ball sized hail. Pegasus EMT personnel carted off bruised and beaten officers, and others fell to the clouds or ground below, their manes frazzled and fried.
General Thunderlane sighed, observing the storm from inside the safety of the military office. When he, Flitter, Cloudchaser, and Lightning Dust had conspired to secede from Equestria, this wasn’t what he’d wanted. Secession was supposed to bring Cloudsdale away from brutality and violence, not closer to it. But, as in Manehattan, the Cloudsdale police had used brutal tactics against initially-peaceful protesters, leading to months of spiraling violence. Cumulonimbus calamity had ensued.
His hair stood on end as he gazed towards the weather factory a few kilometers away, in the distance.
No, that can’t be it. Is it? Are they really doing this?
Yes, they were. Hundreds of pegasi protesters flew in concentric circles, creating a vortex in the sky that was the precursor to the single largest weather phenomenon that ponykind could create: a hurricane.
During the months of protests against President Lightning Dust, the protesters and police had used varying, usually non-lethal weapons against each other. The protesters had used home-made weather phenomena like lightning bolts and hailstones, while the police had used trained falcons and controlled tornadoes. When not carefully corralled, tornadoes could fly free and randomly destroy houses. The police were usually safe with them, parking small, stationary tornadoes right in front of the halls of Cloud Congress and the Presidential Mansion where the activists liked to picket. They served as excellent area denial, blowing away pegasi from a protest area just like a gravity spell might push away unicorns or earth ponies. However, a few pegasi had been smashed into walls and killed, causing further outrage.
But never, until today, had either police or protesters contemplated using a hurricane as a weapon. The destruction would be widespread and indiscriminate for the entire city. It wouldn’t be just limited to the halls of government and financial district where the protests had been concentrated. Was their anger at President Lightning Dust really that severe?
Thunderlane thought of all that had happened in the Cloud Confederacy since it had seceded. Cloudsdale had been hit by a bad recession in recent years, and President Lightning Dust’s regime was quite corrupt, with bribery, graft, and cronyism running amok. A refugee crisis had overwhelmed the city, with tens of thousands of griffons fleeing from their homelands after Zaporizhia had driven them out. Social services hadn’t kept up, especially given the griffon’s meat-based diet, and they lived in squalor compared to the pegasi. The Equestrian Encampment had inspired the citizens of Cloudsdale to rise up. But now, a dangerous storm was brewing which would make the shootings in Manehattan look benign by comparison.
Only Thunderlane could stop it from happening.
President Lightning Dust sat inside of her office, a fat cigar between her teeth as she gazed out the window at the forming hurricane. She chuckled, shaking her head. The protesters were seriously going to unleash an indiscriminate hurricane, all the while accusing her of brutality? If that wasn't the most cynical thing she'd ever seen, she didn't know what was.
True, the economy of Cloudsdale had suffered, but so had most of the other economies worldwide. There were macroeconomic forces at work beyond her administration's control. Besides, at least after the Cloud Confederacy had seceded, they hadn’t lost any more pegasi in the pointless ground-based Racial War which didn’t concern the sky dwelling cities. At least Lightning Dust was an elected leader, unlike Twilight Sparkle had been.
The concerns of corruption against her administration were entirely unfounded. Did she speak with big business ponies and moneyed interests inside the walls of her meeting room? Of course. Every president or princess had to deal with them; they were the leading figures in the economy. They had contributed to her campaign, and without them, she never would’ve won office, but she was far from beholden to them. The Cloud Congress and the voters still had the final say on economic policy.
As for the griffon refugees, what civilized country could be expected to take in a bunch of immigrants with different customs and traditions? Tens of thousands of griffons had flown to Cloudsdale and Las Pegasus, demanding to be given food, water, and shelter for free. Butcher shops and fishmongers now lined the streets, which appalled most ponies as herbivores. There had been several predatory attacks against ponies. Lightning Dust had merely been enforcing immigration law by deporting illegal griffons, though her opponents accused her of speciesism and cruelty, the same charges that had been levied at Twilight Sparkle. Sure, some of the police might’ve taken petty bribes from griffons and pegasi, and they might’ve been overly rough with protesters or suspects. After seeing what had happened to Twilight Sparkle, though, Lightning Dust didn’t want to see such violence in Cloudsdale.
The so-called “Weather Wars” were getting worse everyday. As long as the police remained loyal and guarded Lightning Dust’s building, the general public would tire of endless street battles. This hurricane would undoubtedly cause death and destruction in areas of the city that had nothing to do with the protest. Dust had ordered the police to stand down and allow the protesters to unleash it, since they were basically shooting themselves in the hoof by doing it. If she could weather this storm, she’d be safe until the next elections. If she lost, though, at least it would be from the people’s peaceful will, and not from a violent overthrow.
President Lightning Dust’s office door opened, and there stood the charcoal pegasus she’d appointed as her top general, along with two other leading military officers.
“Yes, General Thunderlane, how may I help you?” asked Lightning Dust.
He sighed. “Lightning Dust, I’ve been a longtime friend of yours, so I hate to do this. But, because of these protests and riots, I’ll have to ask you to resign.”
Lightning Dust raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? What, is this a coup or something?”
He shook his head. “Just consider it a strong suggestion.”
“These guys are about to burn themselves out and show all of Cloudsdale what a bunch of hooligans they are. We’ll have elections, but I'm not going to step down,” said Lightning Dust.
“They might lose some support,” said Thunderlane, “but whatever they lose in lukewarm supporters, they’ll gain in radicals. They’ve already killed police officers in these clashes. Soon, they won't just be using hailstones and lightning bolts, they'll be using guns and grenade launchers to start a war in this city. When we both wanted to secede from Equestria, war was exactly what we were trying to avoid.”
Lightning Dust hung her head low. She trusted Thunderlane’s military assessment of the situation; she hadn't made him a general for nothing. If he saw the potential for war unless she stepped down, perhaps it was time to allow the people to elect a new leader sooner rather than later.
She quickly nodded. “Alright, I'll prepare a statement and resign before this hurricane strikes.”
Once Lightning Dust resigned, the protesters became peaceful once more. People started sweeping up broken glass and shoveling hail off of the clouds as the sky cleared.
What a perfect analogy, thought Pound Cake. Now that the Racial War had been over for two years, the people’s hazy thoughts about separatism had also cleared. Recent polls showed support in Cloudsdale now roughly 50% for rejoining Equestria, and the thousands of newly-arriving griffon refugees were tipping it closer to reunification. Griffons had respect for their home country’s ally of Equestria, but disliked the independent city’s government that had abandoned Equestria in its hour of need. Many of the refugees and immigrants didn’t vote, though, and Pound hoped to get them more politically active. Undocumented immigrants and refugees weren’t legally allowed to vote in Cloudadale, and Pound disagreed vehemently with that law. They lived there and were affected by politicians, so why shouldn’t they be able to vote? Citizen-only voting was inherently speciesist. Lyra and Bon Bon were busy printing thousands of false documents so that griffons could have their voices heard when Cloudsdale voted in November.
Of course, Las Pegasus was a slightly different story, with only 40% of citizens supporting reunification with Equestria. After the elections were held, what would happen if both cities voted differently? It’d be hard to tie their fates together. They were each located thousands of kilometers away, over different areas of Equestria. Sure, cloud cities could float and be moved, but Cloudsdale, now hovering east of Canterlot, relied on weather and food trade with eastern cities. Horseshoe Bay’s orchards needed the monsoons, and Cloudsdale needed the fruit.
Las Pegasus, though, relied on gambling revenue from its legalized casinos and legalized prostitution. The west coast Applewood valley area, Equestria’s second-most populated metro area after Manehattan, provided LP with a huge market of nearby customers. Featherweight’s desalination plant, also a large employer in Las Pegasus, relied on drought-stricken Applewood customers. Pound didn’t approve of gambling, as the house always won, and rich casinos took advantage of poor addicts. If Las Pegasus rejoined Equestria, they’d have to close down those casinos and their brothels. Sex should never be bought, only freely given. Too many mares and stallions were being exploited by brutal pimps and madams who used their bodies to make money. It reminded Pound of his sister’s Phase Healing business.
Gilda the griffon flew above her fellow protesters, screeching in the griffon language, as they screeched back in approval.
“And now, please welcome our guest speaker… Pound Cake!” Gilda said in the pony language.
Pound jolted. This was his turn to speak. Rainbow Dash and Spitfire would’ve come to address the protesters themselves, but they were both busy coordinating the presidential and Dodge Junction campaigns, respectively. So, they encouraged Pound to give the speech. After all, they said, if he wanted to be president someday, and not just the VP, he’d have to train in public speaking.
Most ponies would be nervous about public speaking. But not Pound Cake! He took the floating microphone and pumped his hoof in the air.
“Helllloooo, Cloudsdale!” he shouted.
They screeched and hollered back in approval.
“Many years ago, I used to live here in Cloudsdale with General Spitfire, back when it was part of Equestria. I loved it! Nowhere else can you move your house if you don’t like where it is. Poor neighborhoods and rich neighborhoods don’t even exist in Cloudsdale, because land doesn’t exist. Anyone can move their house to any patch of sky. If you want a bigger backyard, you don’t have to buy land; you just have to tack more clouds on the back of your house, build a fence, and you can make whole new acres!”
The griffons and ponies cheered.
“I figure that’s why you all love Cloudsdale, too. But Cloudsdale has many faults. As an independent country, it hasn’t taken care of its poorest and most vulnerable citizens… the griffon refugees. As a rich, developed nation, the Cloud Confederacy is obligated to house the poor griffon refugees from war-torn Zebrica. We have an obligation to respect your culture of meat eating, even if we don’t agree with it. Even though she objects to predation, Interior Minister Fluttershy has made tallies of overpopulated, invasive species in Equestria’s national parks. Recently, pony-introduced wild boars and rabbits have crowded out endangered species near Hollow Shades and Horseshoe Bay, destroying their habitats. Even Fluttershy agrees that the only humane thing to do is to cull the population. Unlike zebras or ponies, these invasive animals aren’t sapient. So, if Cloudsdale votes to rejoin Equestria, its griffons will be given the right to hunt those species! The meat supply will go up, and you won’t have to pay forty bits a pound anymore!”
Everyone cheered.
“Finally, the recently-passed Equality Act will help the griffon refugees to receive jobs. Unlike in independent Cloudsdale, it won’t be legal to discriminate against griffons just because they don’t have cutie marks, and don’t speak the pony language very well. You’ll be equal to pegasi if you rejoin Equestria!”
The griffons screeched their approval so violently, that Pound thought his tinnitus would worsen and soon become indistinguishable from screeching. He gave Gilda back the microphone, and she gave him a hug. Tears were in her eyes.
“Thank you, Pound Cake. Thank Fluttershy for me, too. I’ll vote for reunification so that finally, I don’t have to hate myself for being who I am.”
“You’re special just the way you are, Gilda. Never forget that,” said Pound Cake.
In the next opinion poll, the support for Cloudsdale’s reunification with Equestria surpassed 55%.
Ponyville
Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo sat inside of their Cutie Mark Crusader clubhouse. Recently, the clubhouse had received a massive renovation. Apple Bloom had gotten some wood and completely replaced the old floorboards and siding, and had even added in a few new rooms. After all, to train a future generation of Crusaders, they’d need extra space.
At first, as the Equestrian economy had declined, the Crusaders’ spirits had been as low as the stock market. Cash-strapped ponies postponed non-essential purchases like Sweetie Belle’s albums, Apple Bloom’s construction services, or Scootaloo’s physical therapy. But the Crusaders’ spirits had soared ever since they’d had a brilliant idea for making ends meet for themselves, and helping others along the way.
Apple Bloom had started, “You know, even though we can’t put our own cutie marks to good use right now…”
“Those who can’t get a job…” Scootaloo had remarked.
“Teach!” Sweetie Belle had proclaimed.
So two years ago, the Crusaders had renovated their clubhouse into a cutie mark dojo, called Cutie Mark Counseling. Young, markless fillies and colts could come and get cutie mark advice, receive training, and schedule career shadowing.
Given that, when Starlight Glimmer had stood on the Parliamentary Square in Manehattan and had spoken of the evils of cutie marks, the Cutie Mark Crusaders had balked.
“What malarkey!” Sweetie Belle had exclaimed.
“I ain’t ever heard such a tall tale,” Apple Bloom had said. “My mark is wonderful and gives me an ultimate dream. I might not be buildin’ skyscrapers in today’s economy, but someday I will.”
Starlight Glimmer’s taking marks from young children and unwilling police during the protests had frightened the Crusaders of the Equals, and the shootout in Ponyville between Cranky Doodle and Bulky Biceps had only amplified it. Though the Crusaders didn’t think that Glimmer was coming to steal marks in the night like some boogeymare, they were still concerned that Glimmer had a cabinet position and was taking anti-cutie mark actions. For all of its good provisions about species equality, the Crusaders still despised the Equality Act’s mandate that employers not pay heed to cutie marks.
“That’s so stupid. I earned my mark, just like a college degree. It’s my destiny and shows what I’m good at. It’s not a meaningless tattoo or tramp stamp like ponies get when they’re drunk,” Scootaloo had said.
But for all of the Equals’ faults, the Crusaders were equally wary of the Pony Peace Patrol. A week ago, a donkey member of the Ponyville City Council had her house burnt down, with a note saying “Ponyville for Ponies” left taped to her car in the street. The culprit was unknown, but the Patrollers were suspected. The PPP’s actions in Dodge Junction really scared the Crusaders. Despite being called ‘Cutie Mark Counseling’, their service was open to all, including young cow, sheep, and donkey children who didn’t want to follow the tired old milking, shearing, and manual labor paths of their parents. Many of them sought out the CMCs for career advice, and were concerned that forever lacking cutie marks would hinder them.
To them, Scootaloo would proclaim, “True, you can’t get a mark, but that doesn’t make you less of a person. It just means that you get to do more awesome things with your life! You’re like a free agent in sports.”
“While some bullies might call you blank-flank, we call you flexible and open-minded,” Apple Bloom would say.
“You only have to find something that you like to do, that pays the bills, and decide that you want to do it. It’s that simple. Your mark is in your mind. Unlike a cutie mark, you can always change your mind if technology, the economy, or your interests change. There’s no pressure and no compulsion,” Sweetie Belle would conclude.
So, when the Crusaders heard the PPP say that farm animals were somehow inferior to ponies because of their blank flanks, it reminded them of the years of bullying and torment they’d suffered at the hooves of Silver Spoon and Diamond Tiara. The Crusaders saw the PPP as just older, better-organized bullies with guns.
In the Crusaders’ estimation, the Encampment-occupied cities like Manehattan and Baltimare had an Equal problem, and the Pest Control-occupied cities like Mareicopa and Dodge Junction had a PPP problem. Neither side was willing to reign in its fringe extremists, and both groups threatened Ponyville’s peace and security. So when Cheerilee and Derpy Hooves had approached the Crusaders regarding neutrality for Ponyville, they’d welcomed it.
Now, all through the streets of Ponyville, hundreds of young, markless foals, lambs, and calves walked, wearing the red and blue Cutie Mark Crusader capes. People cheered them on, giving them candy and kissing their foreheads. The youth smiled, both at the attention and because the stunt had gotten them out of school for the day.
A convoy of armored military vehicles flying the Equestria Republic’s tricolor approached the town from the north, driving south on the road towards the Palomino Desert and the Pest-Control occupied cities. The caped youths stood in the center of the road, putting out their hooves and linking their arms in a chain to block the path.
“Pleeeeeeaaaase don’t bring waaaaar to our town, soldiers,” said a lamb.
“I want to earn my cutie mark someday; I can’t if you start a war!” said a colt.
The low-ranking soldiers smiled at the young children, getting out of the APCs to pat them on the heads, while the leading sergeant and the corporals murmured to each other wondering what to do.
“It’s Azurica all over again, but with kids,” a corporal muttered.
Mayor Cheerilee stepped out into the middle of the road, and the children and their parents cheered her on.
“Hello, soldiers. I am Cheerilee, the mayor of Ponyville, and I forbid you bringing weapons of war into our city. We don’t want to be like Dodge Junction or Baltimare. We want to be Ponyville. We don’t want our marks taken, and we don’t want our farm animal friends lynched. Ponyville is a neutral town, now, and you won’t pass through here.”
“You don’t have the authority to do this, Mayor Cheerilee. Federal orders,” said the leading sergeant. “Stand aside; we have to pass through on this road to Dodge Junction.”
Cheerilee shook her head. “No. You’ll drive around Ponyville, or you won’t drive at all.”
The Sergeant turned to the onlookers and parents of the children. “Townspeople of Ponyville, you should know that your mayor is being emotionally exploitative, using your children to tug on your heartstrings—”
The kids and parents booed the sergeant.
The commanding officers whispered in each other’s ears, while their subordinates looked on with amusement and shock. Finally, after a few minutes, the convoy turned around and left. The townspeople cheered. Through a brave act of defiance by the weakest and most vulnerable among them, they had won their neutrality.
Dodge Junction, October 2028
On the police station’s top floor, Applejack paced, while Silverstar sat at his desk. Outside, gunfire and shouts filled the air. A small explosion tore through a corner store, blowing glass and merchandise all around, but luckily no shoppers were there to be hit. Almost everypony but the militia was in cellars.
Applejack said, “This city is more defenseless than a mouse fightin’ a manticore. The enemy’s now surrounded the whole city, rainin’ down rockets from the mesa overlook. We’re right on a railroad junction, and they can easily rotate their troops. The one thing that kept us from total war was that we had Fluttershy, but now she’s gone. This is turnin’ into Appleloosa again. We need to retreat to another, more easily-defensible Pest Control city. That, or maybe we could hide out near the southern badlands and wage a guerilla war. There’s caves, ravines, and rock formations to take cover in. Plus, there ain't no civilians there. I say we break the encirclement and go tonight.”
Sheriff Silverstar shook his head. “Even if we somehow broke the enemy’s encirclement, we’d die of thirst in the desert. We could go to another city, but they all have civilians, too. It's funny how you're concerned about them gettin’ hit by mortar fire, but you ain't concerned about what’ll happen if we abandon them. Their farms, mines, and cutie marks will be stolen. I ain't gonna give an inch to fascism.”
Applejack rolled her eyes. “What about the PPP? They just hung a mule from a tree ‘cause they said he raped a young mare. Lynchings ain’t justice, sheriff.”
Silverstar sighed. “I don't like their bent against non-ponies, either. I wish that mule had gotten a fair trial. But for all its faults, the PPP is still needed to defend Dodge. Compared to the Equals, they’re saints. We're mighty far from defenseless like you said. We have five thousand armed PPP. We have another five thousand ex-military, ex-cops, and defected soldiers helping us, too, plus their armor. This ain't like Appaloosa, because this time, we'll hold the line.”
Applejack shook her head, but didn't bother arguing further with Silverstar. He wasn't seeing reason. Ten thousand rebels against a far larger Equal and Encampment army could maybe hold out for a few months, but at what price? She viewed the destroyed corner store through the window. At this rate, all of Dodge Junction would look like that soon. Applejack recalled that Silverstar hadn’t wanted to retreat from Appleloosa, either, even though it would’ve been best for the civilians.
The office door opened. In walked Silver Spoon, Diamond Tiara, and Cherry Jubilee.
Diamond Tiara angrily pointed at Silverstar and shouted, “The Equals launched a rocket at my new casino, which blew out a wall and broke five slot machines! This is like the Manehattan riots all over again. Jubilee’s PPP forces are there boarding windows and building barricades... but I haven’t seen any of your militia there, Sheriff. How can I rebuild my business empire like this? Where aren’t your forces defending my casino?”
Silverstar raised an eyebrow. “Your casino? The only casino in Dodge is the Pokerface downtown, and that belongs to Chief Little Strongheart and the buffalo. It’s actually a buffalo reservation enclave.”
Cherry Jubilee smiled. “The patrol kicked the buffalo out of the Pokerface. The days of non-ponies owning the only legal casinos in this town are over. Why should only buffalo have casinos in Dodge Junction? Why can’t ponies? Poker, slots, roulette… if there’s gambling, ponies like Diamond Tiara and I will profit from it!”
Applejack could practically see the golden bits appearing in Cherry Jubilee’s eyes. She said, “I used to gamble myself, and I agree the regulations are stupid… but y’all can’t take the casino from the buffalo. That’s just like Fluttershy takin’ your mines. I thought we occupied this town to stop thievery?”
She narrowed her eyes at Silver Spoon, who blushed slightly.
Silverstar said, “AJ’s right. Trust me from experience. Takin’ property from the buffalo will cause conflict. We can’t fight a two-front battle here! Let’s fight fascists instead of becomin’ fascists. I ain’t gonna order my militia to help you steal a casino. Instead, the PPP should give it back, and focus on fightin’ our actual enemy… Manehattan.”
“Sheriff, Diamond Tiara shipped our city thousands of weapons she bought from Copa. Without her help, Dodge would’ve been overrun a week after you seized this police station with rusty rifles. But DT expects a return on investment: new hotels and casinos to replace the ones she lost in Manehattan. You know she can’t only rely on Copa for new business. I get the irony, but the bison have to go,” said Silver Spoon.
“Those guns weren’t free!” Diamond Tiara scoffed.
Cherry Jubilee said, “Silverstar, when you say that we need to be united against the cabal, you’re right. Our coalition depends on our forces working together. So, as the Ponies’ Mayor, I order you to send a squad of fifty soldiers to help defend Pokerface.”
Applejack guffawed. “‘Ponies’ Mayor?’ That’s a hoot. You ain’t Dodge’s real mayor. Where’s ol’ Nellie Stirrup? Nopony’s seen hoof nor hair of her in days. Was it ‘cause she spoke out against your speciesism?”
Cherry Jubilee chuckled. “Good help is so hard to find. Ex-mayor Stirrup couldn’t adequately perform her duties, so she was replaced. If you can’t do your job, Applejack, you’ll be replaced too… and after losing Fluttershy last month, and now failing to support Dodge’s biggest benefactor, you’re doing about as ‘well’ at this job as you did with cherry sorting at Cherry Hill Ranch. I don’t like unreliable employees. Shape up or get out.”
Silverstar said, “I ain’t leavin’ this town defenseless. Thousands of militia ponies and military defectors answer to me, not you, so good luck tryin’ to kick me out… you’d be signin’ your own death warrant.”
Cherry Jubilee smiled. “We’ll see. I just had a pony militia from Tall Tale pledge to come join the Pony Peace Patrol. There’s thousands of guerrillas who fight zebra scum and bomb their churches, but for better pay and weapons, they’re just as willing to fight against buffalo, donkeys, and Equals in Dodge. So maybe I don’t need your forces as much as you think I do, Silverstar. Maybe me asking you to send a few token squads to the casino was only a loyalty test… one that you just failed.”
She, Silver Spoon, and Diamond Tiara turned and left.
When they were alone, Applejack turned to Silverstar and said, “Just one more reason for us to get out of Dodge. Still think the PPP can be trusted as partners?”
Silverstar sighed and shook his head. “No. This is the last straw. The PPP has no respect for the rule of law. Chief Thunderhooves and his buffalo might’ve been fascist SK allies, but Little Strongheart’s buffalo fighters were some of Appleloosa’s best defenders. That casino is rightfully hers.”
“I am glad that you think so, Sheriff.”
Little Strongheart walked through the doorway.
“Little Strongheart!” Applejack exclaimed. Silverstar cracked a smile. The three had a group hug.
“It’s been a few years since I’ve seen you. How have you been? How is your tribe?” asked Applejack.
Chief Little Strongheart smiled. “After my father’s death, the tribe has prospered under my leadership. Since the Racial War’s end, I have encouraged my people to work hard and invest money in productive business ventures like casinos, liquor stores, and tobacco shops. Even in the recession, our wealth has grown.”
“Gamblin’, alcohol, and smokes are recession-proof. You made a wise investment,” said Applejack.
Chief Strongheart chuckled. “It has been difficult, but worthwhile: before you walk, you’ve got to stand. People like Pumpkin Cake inspire us. She was once a penniless orphan, but her hard work has made her a great healer worth billions. She came one friday and healed the buffalo with lightning cannons still fused to their backs, and gave a talk about perseverance.”
“Pumpkin also inspired me,” said Sheriff Silverstar. “I figured that if she could defend her city from fascists, then I could, too. I didn’t have fancy magic like Mareicopa, but I have a lawstallion’s experience, and I did my best… maybe it hasn’t been enough.”
Applejack turned to Strongheart and asked, “So what did y’all do during the protests, when Twilight Sparkle was overthrown?”
Strongheart sighed. “Many buffalo went to Manehattan to protest together with the EFA and the Encampment. Some buffalo supported the Equals for their anti-speciesism message. But as the riots became violent, and looters seized Diamond Tiara’s casinos and hotels, we noticed because of our similar businesses. Then, after the revolution, we waited like everyone else. The tobacco tax and smoking ban didn’t affect the reservations since they have a special status, so business was actually booming for about a month.”
Silverstar chuckled. “I remember. After the tax, tins of snuff tripled in price, so I bought ‘em tax-free on your Dodge reservation.”
Strongheart continued, “When Rainbow Dash threatened to revoke Mareicopa’s special status, we were fearful. Mareicopa has the same degree of autonomy within Equestria as the Buffalo Nation does. Could Rainbow Dash abolish the Buffalo Nation’s special status by the same justifications? Ponies go to Mareicopa to learn magic spells, and they go to our reservations to gamble and buy tobacco, and both are seen as social ills by the Encampment. Though we desire peace, we are willing to fight to defend our tribal sovereignty. Like my father, I will not see it whittled away any further.”
“Now you know why we liberated Dodge. They were comin’ to seize our coal mines and cherry orchards, just like Blueblood came to take Appleloosa’s apples,” said Silverstar.
“And just like the PPP has now taken my casino,” said Little Strongheart. “Thieves hide behind many different masks and justifications on both sides of the political spectrum.”
Applejack sighed. “We’re really sorry about that, Little Strongheart. We’d love to help you get Pokerface back, but if the militias start infightin’ with each other, Dodge will collapse. Heck, it will probably collapse anyway from all these bombshells! We need some sort of plan, some sort of help or backup...”
Silverstar said, “I think I know where we can get it.”
On the top floor of the Mareicopa capitol building was a large meeting table. Rarity sat at the head, with Pumpkin Cake at her right side, and along the table sat Iron Will, Nurse Redheart, Walkabout, Professor Fossil, Vinyl Scratch, and Doctor Stekton.
“Thank you all for coming,” said Rarity. “Now, first on the agenda is the Free Mareicopa’s new constitution. Iron Will, who’s responsible for drafting it, will briefly elaborate.”
Iron Will smiled. “Thanks, Rarity. Iron Will has assembled a list of articles proposed by the city residents at public meetings. The new constitution lists ten fundamental individual freedoms, which the new government may not infringe on: the right to life, property, privacy, conscience, expression, travel, self-determination, self-defense, fair trial when criminally accused, and presumed innocence until proven guilty. The government may neither preferentially treat nor discriminate against any racial, religious, socioeconomic, or corporate group. The government may only exercise specific duties: national defense, public safety, and courtroom arbitrage of disputes. All Free Mareicopa officials will be publically scrutinized to prevent corruption. Officials will be elected biennially by legal citizens over age sixteen with clean criminal records, with the next elections scheduled for November.”
The council members applauded.
“That’s marvelous! And hopefully I am able to win the citizens’ trust, or I may shortly lose my seat,” said Rarity, chuckling.
Walkabout said, “I’ve been traveling all over, talking with representatives in other Pest Control cities like El Lasso, Salt Lick City, and Albuckerque. They wish to join Free Mareicopa. Perhaps a confederation is in order.”
“Iron Will has discussed that at the public meetings. The constitution will provide a way for other cities to join Free Mareicopa,” said Iron Will.
“You know, as weird as this might sound, I think I’ll say it anyway,” said Vinyl Scratch. “We’ve, like, done what the Encampment wanted to do, except they failed and we’re succeeding. From talking to them in Manehattan this summer, I think they’d agree with us a lot, except they’d want us to have, like, welfare programs and stuff. But the Pest Control has done it better than the Encampment. We’re creating a good government without driving up the debt.”
“And we didn’t need to kill anyone to do it,” said Pumpkin Cake. “We didn’t start a war or loot businesses to do it.”
“...Well, there is a battle, at least in Dodge Junction. There’s been a lot of casualties from the conflict over there. They’ve come to Mareicopa for treatment, since Dodge’s hospital is so overwhelmed,” said Nurse Redheart.
Iron Will pounded his fist into the table. “Iron Will despises the PPP vermin! They fly the yellowjacket flag and don’t know what it really means. They say that non-ponies are inferior to ponies? It makes my blood boil, because Iron Will sees many worthless ponies everyday, ones who Iron Will tries to shape into stronger ponies… But we do have freedom of speech. We can’t become fascists like Heartstrings and Bon Bon and ban speech we don’t agree with.”
“With that said, I’ve been in touch with an old friend,” said Rarity. “She and I have had our differences, but while I prefer the big city and she prefers the orchards, we both acknowledge the virtue of hard work, industriousness, and honesty. Please welcome Applejack, where she will apprise us of the Dodge Junction situation.”
Applejack walked through the door, to a round of applause. Rarity and Pumpkin Cake gave hugs to their mutual longtime friend.
“Thanks for the warm welcome, y’all,” said Applejack, blushing as she removed her hat. “I was responsible for the initial seizure of Dodge Junction, along with Sheriff Silverstar, who’s there holdin’ down the fort right now. At first, I wanted to restore Princess Twilight to the throne. But as time went on, I realized that wasn’t gonna happen. Extremists like the PPP started taking’ advantage of the chaos, stealin’ buffalo casinos and lynching donkeys. That ain’t right, either. So I came here to ask for help.”
Pumpkin Cake said, “I’ve been keeping up with your situation, and it doesn’t look good. You’re surrounded on all sides. It reminds me of the Siege of Appleloosa. Back then, I didn’t want to surrender to the Second Kingdom, and I stayed behind with Silverstar… and Trixie captured me and the town. I’m worried the same will happen to Dodge.”
Vinyl Scratch said, “Yeah, and with Manehattan threatening Copa, too, our militia doesn’t have enough spare guys to give Dodge an edge. I mean, I can send a few special forces, but nothing beyond that.”
Applejack shook her head. “I was afraid of that. A retreat seems like the only good option, but we couldn’t evacuate on our own. Silverstar doesn’t want to, but maybe I could convince him if we had a good plan.”
Walkabout asked. “How many fighters are in Dodge, Applejack?”
Applejack said, “Ten thousand total. We have five thousand who Silverstar helped recruit and train over the past couple months, or who defected from the Equestrian military. Then, there’s five thousand or more speciesist PPP fighters who Cherry Jubilee recruited and Diamond Tiara armed. A lot of ‘em streamed in from out of town, from places like Tall Tale and Horseshoe Bay. I’d just as soon leave those guys behind, at the mercy of the Equals, let all the crazies kill each other.”
Walkabout said, “I can teleport your soldiers out, a few at a time. However, it would take several weeks for me to get all five thousand, assuming that Pumpkin lets me use her alicornium.”
Applejack blushed. “Would you? Shucks, that’s mighty nice. I don’t know how I’d repay y’all for this.”
Walkabout grinned. “No worries. If this works, I have a mission for your more capable soldiers, once I’ve vetted them.”
Applejack nodded. “Deal. We’ll keep this under wraps, draw down slowly, and leave a few ex-military guys to evacuate our armor at the end. By the time Jubilee realizes that we’re all gone, she’ll be in that city all by her lonesome. But if we leave the PPP behind in Dodge to fight the Equals, that’d leave the buffalo casino defenseless. They don’t have weapons.”
Doctor Stekton said, “I have a solution.”
They all glanced at him, their eyebrows raised.
He elaborated, “For a few years, I’ve been working on an upgraded buffalo lightning cannon. I have the blueprints for a working model, which straps on like a backpack, rather than requiring surgical attachment. Additionally, this version would have fewer negative health effects, but would be even more powerful. With the right funding, dozens of them could be mass-produced in a matter of weeks.”
Pumpkin asked, “That’s good news, but I’m curious. Why were you working on an improved lightning cannon? The war’s been over for years.”
Stekton shrugged. “It was a hobby that I pursued in my spare time in Criollo. During the war, my failure to produce a perfected lightning cannon was one of my biggest blunders. Even though the war had ended, science does not, and for the sake of my own professional dignity, I continued until I produced a satisfactory prototype.”
“Wow, this guy’s a real go-getter, huh?” asked Nurse Redheart, snarkily.
Everypony in the room laughed, save for Stekton himself.
“So, it’s settled, then,” said Rarity. “Pumpkin Cake and Walkabout will evacuate the moderate Pest Control forces from Dodge Junction, while Vinyl Scratch’s special forces and Dr. Stekton’s machinery will play a support role. Meanwhile, the rest of us will organize elections in Mareicopa and the other Pest Control-held cities to be held on the same day as Manehattan’s in November. Let people across Equestria see that they have an alternative to that madhouse.”
Dodge Junction, November 2028
Pound Cake sat in the air above Dodge, out of snipers’ range. As he rested atop a cloud and poked a spyglass down through the vapor, the city’s residents looked as small as ants.
The encirclement was now complete, with Manehattan-loyal tanks and soldiers surrounding Dodge on all sides, and positioned on the mesa to the northwest. After the defections, it had taken a few months, but they’d finally tightened their noose around the city. In preparation for the operation, the Republic forces had shelled strategic targets to soften up the terrorists. They’d targeted military vehicles, destroyed weapons stashes, and demolished railroad bridges to the west, cutting off weapons shipments from Mareicopa. Unfortunately, as Fluttershy mentioned, the shelling wasn’t wholly accurate, but collateral damage was a small price to pay to free the town. In about an hour, the military and the Equals would go into Dodge on hoof to conduct a mop-up in the city.
Pound and Spitfire had determined that, as the most motivated fighters, the Equals should conduct street warfare in Dodge, accompanied by only a few of Spitfire’s regular military battalions. She’d deliberately chosen her weaker battalions for this mission, so that the brunt of the fighting would be borne by the Equals, most of whom were also inexperienced in fighting. Hopefully, the Equals would win, but only just barely. Ideally, they’d suffer many casualties, putting a damper on them in the future if if they wanted to try any funny business. Manehattan didn’t need another revolution. Of course, Starlight Glimmer was eager to send her forces to Dodge, not realizing Spitfire’s true plan. After Hoops had told Glimmer of his tortures, she had become enraged, dedicating many of her followers to the liberation mission. Though the PPP were extremists, they were also a convenient magnet to draw Equals to Dodge.
As he glanced down, Pound noticed something peculiar. Maybe he wasn’t looking hard enough, but almost all of the enemy fighters that he could see on the streets were PPP members, wearing their signature black hoods and flying black flags emblazoned with white horseshoes. A few yellowjacket flags stood out, but always accompanied by the PPP flags. He thought this was rather strange. Unlike Pumpkin, who probably assumed that everyone in the Encampment was an Equal, Pound acknowledged that the PPP was a fringe minority within the Pest Control movement. So it was rather strange that he only saw PPP.
Three concurrent rocket blasts pummeled the abandoned town square. That was the signal. Flocks of Glimmer’s armed pegasi flew over the city, their RPGs taking out tanks parked at roadblocks. Snipers fired at PPP members who still stood on the streets, the enclosed city becoming a popcorn kettle of gunfire, explosions, and screams. The smell of smoke filled the air.It somewhat reminded Pound Cake of the situation on Parliamentary Square during the Encampment’s nadir, except with much heavier weaponry. Of course, he didn’t believe Silverstar’s lie that the Fearless Fifty had died in a false flag, but he wondered how the Equals had such accurate snipers. They didn’t have cutie marks in sniping, did they? Perhaps, like Glimmer, they had ‘temporarily’ kept their marks.
Pound’s mane stood on end, stray strands sticking up. His legs became prickly, like they’d fallen asleep. He jolted.
To the city’s west, a loud, powerful explosion ripped through a line of tanks, nearly blinding Pound. Lightning bolts rained down on tanks, their metal exteriors coruscating with an electric field. The drivers and gunners’ fur turned dark and singed. The lightning only punched a small hole in the line of tanks making up the encirclement, but this was enough. Dozens of tanks, APCs, and trucks flying yellowjacket flags—only yellowjacket flags—rushed west through the gap.
“Those idiots! They’re letting the buggers escape!” Pound shouted to no one.
A few other Republic tanks turned and tried to pursue the fleeing occupants, but were also struck by lightning bolts. The source became clear: dozens of buffalo galloping along the outskirts of town. Reminded of Appleloosa, Pound had deja vu. He wondered how big a bribe his estranged, Trixie-successor sister had given the buffalo to fight on the same side as speciesists. With the wider gap, yet more Pest Control tanks slipped through. He gritted his teeth. They couldn’t get away, or they’d be used to reinforce the other Pest Control cities in the Palomino desert like Mareicopa, Salt Lick City, and Albuckerque!
To the west, a craggy ravine stood on the Dodge Junction-Azurica highway, with only a single, narrow truss bridge crossing it. Unlike the destroyed railroad bridge across the same ravine, the highway bridge hadn’t been blown up, because Spitfire’s forces had needed it themselves. But if Pound could remove the bridge, the Pest Control’s retreat would be halted.
He brushed off the static, jumped from the cloud, and soared straight towards bridge, quickly passing the tanks. The leading tank was still a kilometer away by the time that Pound took a nosedive, plummeting towards the bridge front-hooves-first. Just as he was mere meters from the bridge, in between its trusses, he turned up, the rainboom bursting forth. He decelerated and turned back to view his handiwork.
The ground shook in a phenomenal burst of colors. A deafening roar filled the air, making his ears ring. Boulders fell from the sides of the ravines, and spiderweb-like cracks raced across the desert surface. The first two of the fast-approaching Pest Control tanks flipped over entirely, while the others skidded back. But the bridge itself stood completely unscathed… a blood red glow enveloping it.
“Ever hear that riddle where the unstoppable force meets the immovable object, Pound?”
He jolted, as Pumpkin Cake floated a few meters from him, her eyes shining white like headlights. Seeing her turned his stomach in knots.
“You!” he shouted. “You fatcat oligarch! If you weren’t my sister, I’d kill you. You started this fight in Dodge Junction! You’re ruining Equestria for all of us!”
She shook her head. “No. You started this fight when you killed police and looted shops in Manehattan, brother. Then, you started the battle in Dodge Junction when you killed civilians with rocket fire. I’m just finishing it. Like our special talents… yours is destructive, while mine is constructive. You demolish shops and infrastructure, while I build and protect it. You take life, while I deliver it. You’ll lose in Equestria, just like you’ve lost today. The immovable will win. Stop this pointless battle, and join with Free Equestria. I think you’ll actually like our new constitution. Why are we fighting?”
“Well, I’m fighting for a better life for everyone, but you’re fighting for the same old system that enriches the upper crust while killing the poor and stopping progress. If anyone should surrender, it’s you. Like today in Dodge Junction, the Equestrian Republic will win. Your guys are retreating, anyway,” said Pound.
The Pest Control tanks started crossing the intact bridge.
Pumpkin shrugged. “Dodge is a victory for Pest Control. My militia just gained hundreds of tanks and thousands of experienced, proven fighters we’ve already teleported out. You’re left with a city your shelling ruined, full of speciesist and Equal extremists fighting each other to the death.”
Pound chuckled. “If the PPP and the Equals all killed each other in Dodge, that’d solve a lot of problems. That was our plan, and I see that it’s your plan, too.”
Pumpkin nodded. “Maybe you aren’t as stupid as I thought. I was predicting you’d give your mark to Glimmer.”
Pound shook his head. “No. The EFA isn’t all Equals, ya know. The Equals are a tiny fringe, like the PPP. Both groups scare me for different reasons. Besides, I use my flight mark to help others, not like your intangibility spell. You’ve used it to grow your empire at the expense of pregnant mares and cancer patients. You’ve extorted fees from them like some mafia don demanding protection money. If they don’t pay, you let them die like that young colt.”
Pumpkin laughed. “Those patients came to me, and if I weren’t there, they would’ve died anyway! I don’t work for free unless I want to, and I have the right to be compensated. You only hate the Equals because Starlight Glimmer is just like you, and you hate yourself. Like Walkabout says, you have tall poppy syndrome. You hate successful ponies, because you’re secretly jealous of us. We make you feel inferior and self-loathing, and you want what we have. You’re just as greedy as me, but at least I’m not afraid to admit that I like having magic and money.”
Pound scoffed. “I’m not Glimmer, and I’m not jealous of you at all. I’d never want to be as selfish as you, and I can’t even believe that we’re related.”
“If you aren’t jealous, explain why don’t you like me using the WINI spell on myself. In your twisted view, am I somehow hurting others by casting it?”
Pound nodded. “Indirectly, yes. You don’t have the right to feel that much joy while there’s still suffering in the world. You could use your energy to help others, instead.”
Pumpkin said, “I won’t help them unless it’s worth my time. I’m my own mare; I’m not some slave tending your Pound Plantation.”
Pound said, “Then someday the government will force you to help, and it’s not ‘slavery,’ it’s generosity. The fat, bloated oligarchs will be cut from the vines of your Pumpkin Patch.”
“What if you couldn’t force me? Would you rather I have no talent to help anyone, or would you rather I have it and use it how I wish?”
“That’s a false choice, but I’d rather you have no talent than use it to run Phase Healing and rake in such a ludicrous, masturbatory sum of money. You’re not a real doctor, you quack! What you do is an evil mockery of medicine!” Pound shouted.
“There you go, you’ve just become Starlight Glimmer. Just because you’re jealous that I have so much, you’d snap your feathers, take my talents from me, and make everyone worse off, including my patients. Your twisted philosophy can only destroy, but you think that you’re right and that I’m evil. Fine. If caring for myself is evil, then I don’t want to be good. I will never submit to you. I will never move a muscle for you! You’re no brother of mine!”
Pound’s rage, which had been building from his sister’s words, exploded. He dashed at Pumpkin to tackle her to the ground. But before he could get there, she had disappeared in a flash of light. He cursed her, and instead flew back to the command center to meet up with Spitfire.
As he raced, his thoughts raced through his head. For all that his sister had said that was wrong, she had said at least one right thing. Pound was unstoppable, and he’d never rest until the Pest Control secessionist cities were restored to a unified Equestria. He would never let Equestria be conquered by the greedy and wealthy like her. He approached the bombed-out Dodge with a conviction that a truly egalitarian society would emerge from the ashes. And maybe someday, once the alicornium was taken from Pumpkin, she’d become a nice, caring pony again, instead of the grotesque monster her magic and money had made her.
Campdrafta, Oatstralia
In the Oatstralian capital streets, residents cowered in doorways and ducked down behind benches. Joeys jumped into pouches of kangaroos, peering out at the strange sight.
Every few minutes, groups of ponies materialized with white teleport flashes, carrying machine guns on their backs. Though some were Oatstralian, most spoke in Equestrian accents. Upon appearing, they walked over to street corners, standing in place like sentries. Dozens of such armed ponies stood.
On one corner, three militia ponies stood. A Campdrafta pegasus police officer approached them, angrily shouting, his wings flared.
“You can’t carry those guns, and you can’t teleport. That’s illegal! Stand down at once!”
“Relax, bro,” said one of the armed ponies in an Applewood accent, holding up his hoof. “We’re here to help out your country. Let’s not have a fight, ‘kay?”
“Y’all Oatsie cops ain’t even issued guns, huh?” asked a second in a Dodge Junction accent. “What would you do if we were a real threat, pepper spray us?” He pointed to the officer’s belt, which only contained pepper spray and a baton.
The officer gasped. “I’m well trained in combat, I’ll have you know!”
“How cute, he thinks he’s a real policeman,” said the Applewood pony. “Wook at the widdle pepper spway! Doncha just wanna pinch his widdle cheeks?”
The three of them laughed.
The officer scowled. “More criminals in the country illegally, I see. Are any of you even Oatstralian?”
“I am. Name’s Dreamtime, from Branacoorah,” said the third, a bright green-maned unicorn mare. “Was recruited by cousin Walkabout. These blokes are here to help turn this country ‘round. We can staht with your attitude: ahmed people are free people, and we’ll never be taken over by Zaporizhia! It’s time for us Oatsies to defend our own continent and quit hiding behind Equestria. Now go play dress-up cop somewhere else!”
She zapped him about ten meters down the street. He ran off.
“Uh, excuse me, ponies…”
The three glanced down to see a young zebra child standing on the sidewalk.
“You aren’t going to… hurt the zebras or ponies here, are you?”
“Of course not, little dude,” said the Applewood pony, smiling. “I have plenty of zebra friends back in Applewood. They’re chill people; it’s just the Zebra Empire leader is pretty cray.”
“Then, ah, why do you have guns and magic? Those are for hurting people,” said the child.
Dreamtime giggled. “Who told you that? I’ve never hurt anypony in my entire life, yet I’m branded a criminal simply for using magic spells, just like you lot are profiled simply for being zebras. All that will change ‘round here; we’ll be united and defended. And me gun? It’s not even loaded. You can hold it, if you’d like.”
The zebra child reluctantly nodded, as Dreamtime floated the gun down to him. He touched it hesitantly at first, drawing his hoof back a few times as if it were a hot stove. Finally, he held it, gazing down the sights, feeling the cold metal of the barrel. After a few minutes of him inspecting the gun, Dreamtime took it back.
With their interaction, and after seeing that the armed ponies weren’t aggressive or carrying loaded guns, some of the cowering citizens were put at ease. They started coming out of hiding, approaching the three.
“My goodness. The regular police would never treat zebras so kindly. They fear and despise us, yet you speak to us as fellow people… you even let that child hold your gun,” said a zebra stallion.
“I’ve always wanted to use magic like yours. Will you teach me?” asked a unicorn.
Dreamtime nodded. “We all will be learning, and not just magic. Pegasi will learn to make tornados, earth ponies will learn to tame dangerous animals, and zebras will learn potion making. Those who can’t will learn to shoot guns. We all will need to be as defended as possible against any foreign invaders. Not just the Zebra Empire, but seaponies, pirates, terrorists, the whole lot.”
“That’s illegal,” said an older earth stallion. “Our country is disahmed for a reason, to prevent violence. We don’t want to be like Equestria, always at war.”
Dreamtime said, “If you don’t like having a gun or a trained attack platypus, then don’t get one. But the laws must change. What if we three had started a massacre? We’d have killed hundreds before competent officers arrived to fight us… and there’s dozens of us here now. Pepper spray and cries of ‘don’t!’ wouldn’t have stopped us. Only armed, free civilians would’ve.”
As if trying to accentuate her point, five more armed ponies appeared in the streets in a flash of light.
“You’re all terrorists!” the old stallion shouted.
Dreamtime said, “If by ‘terrorists,’ you mean that we’re scaring Oatstralia straight, yes, but we’re nonviolent. This is just a drill. Zaporizhia is the true terrorist. The Encampment are the true terrorists, burning down shops and shelling civilian homes in Equestria. You think the Oatstralian branch of the Encampment won’t conduct a coup here? They’re planning one, just like in Manehattan. Cousin Walkabout is just beating them to it…”
“Mister Walkabout, I will not bow to terrorism. The pahliament will not change the laws, as they are in place to protect society. Maybe you’ve forgotten in your years abroad, but Oatstralia is a peaceful country. This isn’t like Equestria; there’s little crime and magic laws aren’t even a political issue here. After that terrible massacre, the representatives overwhelmingly rejected free magic use. You are in a small, bitter minority, upset that you lost.”
Walkabout scowled at Prime Minister Marequarie. “I don’t care if I were the last unicorn; I would never submit to your tyranny! Personal freedoms of minorities should never be up for a vote. Why don’t we jail homosexuals, too, if the majority wants it? With me in charge, we’ll be an impenetrable, independent fortress which Zaporizhia’s armies may never conquer, because our citizens will be free, united, and armed. I do this, because you see what happens with the nanny state; your country is left defenseless, as one giant gaol. Why did we even bother gaining independence from Wingland if we’d just end up a penal colony again?”
Marequarie shook her head. “You’re wrong. That’s all there is to it.”
Walkabout started, “I’m sending you someplace you can never hurt Oatstralia again… someplace with all of the other sheep...”
Walkabout charged up his horn, and Marequarie’s eyes widened.
“...Neigh Zealand!”
With a flash of light, she was gone, leaving just Walkabout and Silverstar standing in her office.
Silverstar chuckled. “I s’pose you’ve one-upped me, Walkabout. I only freed one city and had to retreat, but now you freed a whole country…”
“And we won’t retreat, ever,” said Walkabout. “It’s an island continent. There’s nowhere to retreat to. Your steadfastness will serve Oatstralia well. If you train our new national militia as well as you’ve trained your own, we will never be conquered.”
November 2028:
Maps of the Zebra Emperor's palace, planned escape routes, potion recipes, and many other papers sat on the table before Zecora. This assassination plan had been in the making for years. General Spitfire, former Agent Sparkler, and many other past and current members of Equestria’s military and intelligence services had conspired with Zecora to create the plan. Not only time and effort, but also emotion was invested in the plan. Zecora desperately wanted to kill the emperor for all that he had done, both to her ancestral homeland and to her adopted country of Equestria.
So when Zecora picked up the papers and slowly burned them over the altar candle at Reverend Zeberene’s church, it pained her more than almost every other decision in her life had. The black smoke of the consumed papers lofted into the air, stinging her eyes, knocking her already lose tears to the ground.
“You have done the right thing,” said Zeberene. “In the zebra religion, to assassinate the Emperor would only make him a martyr. His followers would cite an obscure scripture which could allow for death and reincarnation of the savior. I’m not surprised that the Equestrian intelligence services didn't know about this particular passage. It’s in a text written in ancient Swahili that only few of the top holy zebras can translate. But Zaps' priests are among the translators, and one of them would surely have capitalized on any assassination to put himself into the empty throne.”
“It's a good thing that you found us, then,” said Berry Punch.
“Yes…” said Zecora, slowly trailing off. Despite all of the wisdom she had imparted on her friends about being slow to wrath, a huge part of her was still disappointed she wouldn’t get her revenge on the Emperor.
“His day will still come,” said Zarek. “We’ll try him in a court of law, and he’ll suffer the worst punishment that a zealot like him can, to live out the remainder of his natural years in prison with no chance of martyrdom.”
Zeberene smiled. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We still need to retake Tall Tale and Vanhoover, and then we can focus on liberating the Zebra continent itself. The former we will do soon, but the latter may take years.”
The next day, the streets of Tall Tale filled with many peaceful, unarmed zebras of all ages and both genders. Tens of thousands of them packed the streets, chanting, locking arms, and demanding that Tall Tale and Vanhoover be freed from the rule of Zaporizhia.
At every police station in the city, Zeberene’s Doves sat in the doorways, on the steps, and around the squad cars. They packed every conceivable centimeter. At first, the religious police conducted mass arrests, but still the jails were overflowing and there was no room to put the thousands who remained. The tear gas didn’t work, as the Doves had brought gas masks. A few panicked lieutenants gave the order to start shooting, but their officers disobeyed. Reverend Zeberene knew his scripture, and had his followers hand out helpful pamphlets to the police.
“Zoolokai 3:42: For one to harm a nonviolent zebra is a grave sin in the eyes of God. The griffons hunt and prey on His chosen people, incurring his wrath. Those zebras who wantonly kill their own kin shall receive the same fate as griffon hunters in the afterlife.”
Even after the chameleon-disguised police in Tall Tale had successfully suppressed years of militancy and guerilla warfare, they ironically had no response to massive, peaceful protests. Perhaps Zaporizhia could’ve relied on his less-devout followers to enforce his power in the city, but he had vetted the force in Tall Tale a little too well, and they took scripture literally. And with the power grid and banking system down, any financial incentive for Zebra authorities to skirt the religious texts was entirely gone.
Outside of the city hall, courthouse, and Zebra Empire administrative building, thousands of Doves stood on the steps. They were soon joined by thousands more ponies and secular zebras who came out to support the protest because they were sick of week after week of zero electricity in the city.
Reverend Zeberene stood on the steps of city hall, the Zaporizhia loyalists trapped inside but refusing to come out.
Zeberene preached, “The residents of Tall Tale, pony and zebra alike, have spoken! The false prophet Zaporizhia shall have no power in our city, nor in Vanhoover. Instead, we will have a new era of love and tolerance towards one another. God loves all of his children, no matter if they are striped or solid coated. As his children, we should follow his example, and judge one another not as zebra or pony, but as fellow people in his eyes.”
The roaring of the crowd shook the entire streets.
“For church and state to mix is a potion far more dangerous than the chameleon brews. Now, our cities will vote to determine their own secular course, free from religious authority like the Emperor’s!”
Zeberene gave almost no other hints at the ultimate direction of Tall Tale. Though most of the militant atheists and speciesist extremists had gone to fight in Dodge Junction against the Equals, there were still a few violent ponies in Tall Tale, and violent zebras as well. Zeberene didn’t want to say anything that might provoke an insurgency again, and Tall Tale’s future course was an uncertain, contentious issue. Even amongst the partisans, there was disagreement between Zarek, Zecora, Berry Punch, and Discount as to the ultimate fate of Tall Tale: whether it would exist as an independent city or come under Manehattan’s rule once again. The four of them had finally agreed to Zeberene’s idea, that the residents of the city be allowed to vote on its fate.
While Zeberene took a pause from speaking to rest, Zecora walked off to use the restroom. Once she was away from the crowd, a somewhat timid, cream-colored pegasus flew up to her.
“Uh… Zecora?”
Zecora raised an eyebrow. She believed that she knew this pony, but could not recall from where…
“I’m Featherweight. Decades ago, I used to go to school in Ponyville, and we met a few times,” he said. “Nowadays, I’m the Finance Minister of the Equestrian Republic.”
Zecora nodded. “Hello, old friend. It is nice to see you again. What brings you so far from Manehattan? Are you here to ensure a reunification happens?”
Featherweight vigorously shook his head. “No. I’m actually here to warn you. I’ve heard terrible things in the cabinet meetings, and I’ve got them all on tape. I put in my two weeks’ notice yesterday, but didn’t tell Rainbow Dash why I was resigning. Now I’m telling you. Tall Tale and Vanhoover can’t vote to live under Manehattan. Organized Labor’s plans for the country will drive it into bankruptcy, and her plans for this city will drive its economy into ruin. Her unions are going to seize the ports, vineyards, and lumber yards, and centrally control them. It’ll be just as bad as Zaporizhia.”
Zecora’s jaw was agape. “Of that plan, this is the first I have heard. Where are the other cabinet members to speak these words?”
“They haven’t had the chance to send their goons here yet. Since you aren’t following Spitfire’s timetable anymore, this massive protest comes a surprise to the cabinet, and me. I only just so happened to be in the city today. I didn’t even know anything was planned. Quite serendipitous, though. We must discuss a strategy.”
Zecora nodded. “To avoid economic disaster would be wise. But to whom should our city’s future be tied? I do not believe that our cities should be alone. We could never field our own navy, and to Zaporizhia’s attacks, we’d be quite prone.”
Featherweight smiled. “I’ve been talking to a certain navy general through secret channels. After Starlight Glimmer and General Spitfire started recklessly shelling Dodge Junction, General Soarin and I were both appalled. We felt it was an unnecessary escalation of violence, and deadly to civilians. Soarin said that it reminded him of Zaporizhia’s wanton mortar attacks against Tall Tale and Vanhoover during the Racial War. Twilight Sparkle ordered Soarin to preserve peace in Equestria. He will extend his naval protection to the Northwest. Of course, his naval protection does little to prevent land and air attacks from Manehattan, like the attacks launched on Dodge Junction. For that, we need an ally who already has a land-based force. I know just the alliance. Tell me, Zecora, are you familiar with Rarity and Pumpkin Cake?”
Zecora smiled. “I know them very well.”
Rarity, Pumpkin Cake, Fancy Pants, Zecora, Berry Punch, and Featherweight sat in the meeting room of the Maricopa administrative building.
“This is rather ironic, I must say,” said Fancy Pants. “The last time that I was in this room, I was preparing Mareicopa to be a proud unicorn city. Now that the war is over, I am here helping the Second Kingdom’s former adversaries to reclaim Tall Tale and Vanhoover. What strange times these are.”
“And here I am helping out the former propaganda minister. I just hope that you remember how to spread a message,” said Featherweight.
Fancy Pants smiled. “Before I was the propaganda minister, I worked with the publishing industry. I am well adept at tailoring messages. Now, before developing the message, we must know our target audience.”
Zecora said, “Tall Tale and Vanhoover are happy to be free of Zaporizhia’s terror. Even many who once supported Zebra Empire rule now realize their error. For the cities now, an uncertain future awaits. When talking of possibly reuniting under Manehattan, many ponies hesitate. The Encampment and revolution against Twilight have made many ponies like Berry Punch uneasy. Though the equality message of the Encampment, to some zebras like Zarek, is very appealing. To Zarek, I take the opposite view. But his position is held by ponies and zebras numbering quite a few.”
“I’m worried that the city might be dividing again, pretty soon,” said Berry Punch. “And after we worked so hard to unite everyone…”
Fancy Pants said, “I have picked up a few key points. First, we must call for unity, the same that Zeberene so successfully preached. Second, we must dispel the notion that Manehattanite rule is good. Third, we must provide a firm, solid future for the Northwest to put the people’s uneasy minds at peace.”
“In short, we need a true leader, a true unifying voice, to sell them on joining our confederacy,” said Rarity.
“You have quite a task on your hooves, Rarity,” said Pumpkin Cake.
Rarity chuckled. “Me? No, darling, because I won’t be giving this speech at all. You will.”
Pumpkin jolted. “What?”
Rarity nodded. “I said before that I would be grooming you for leadership, and this is your first major test.”
Fancy Pants put his chin on his hoof. “Interesting… Blueblood was young when he created the Second Kingdom, but he was much older than eighteen. Age might be a disadvantage to Pumpkin in terms of her perceived inexperience. Though her youth might be advantageous in two ways. One, immigration and high birthrates have made Tall Tale’s average age quite young. Two, Pumpkin’s youth could help portray an image of a new confederacy and new ideas to the city in a way that a middle-aged mare like Rarity wouldn’t be able to… no offense, Rarity.”
“None taken.”
Zecora said, “Pumpkin Cake also has another advantage over Rarity. She spent two years living with me.”
“It’s true. Zecora was like a second mother to me,” said Pumpkin.
Fancy Pants smiled. “That’s fantastic. A history of quasi-familial relations with a zebra will help you relate to the zebras in Tall Tale, and will help them trust you. Do you have any photographs of your time together?”
“I have a few, but it’s not like I’m going to pass them around,” said Pumpkin.
Fancy Pants chuckled. “No need for that. We will be using the latest color projector technology, fed off of an independent generator. I plan on projecting pictures to go along with your speech onto the sides of skyscrapers. In the pitch-black city night, everyone in town will see it! This will help provide evidence for your claims. A picture is worth a thousand words. We will also splice in some audio from Mr. Featherweight’s cabinet meeting tapes.”
“Think of it like a business proposal to a group of investors, Pumpkin,” said Rarity. “You have to convince them to invest in your venture. In this case, by joining their cities to the new confederacy.”
At night, Pumpkin addressed the massive crowds in Tall Tale, standing on a street fronting its tallest skyscraper. All of the window lights and streetlights were out, leaving only the light of the moon and the Doves’ altar candles to illuminate the city.
She said, “Hello, citizens of Tall Tale. Congratulations on liberating yourselves from Emperor Zaporizhia!”
The crowd cheered.
She continued, “Some of you are eager to come under Manehattan’s rule again, I venture?”
About half of the crowd cheered.
Pumpkin shook her head. “That’s unwise. Manehattan is a cabal, running up massive debts, and President Rainbow Dash surrounds herself with thugs. Equality Minister Starlight Glimmer’s gang massacred police and stole children’s cutie marks, brainwashing them. Justice Minister Raindrops is a rogue prosecutor, falsely accusing ponies of invented ‘crimes’, meanwhile ignoring the east coast’s soaring murder and robbery epidemic. Cultural Ministers Lyra and Bon Bon censor critics of the government. Health Minister Doctor Stable wants the power of life or death over you. Labor Minister Organized Labor plunders industry; her unions run productive factories into the ground. Upon reunification, the Manehattan cabal plans the same fate for Tall Tale. You may think that Manehattanite rule will bring freedom to Tall Tale, but in reality, Rainbow Dash is just as tyrannical as Zaporizhia.”
As Pumpkin spoke each example, giant projections flashed onto the front of the skyscraper. A picture of looters sacking a Manehattan small business was shown side-by-side with zebra police smashing beer kegs outside of a Tall Tale tavern. A photo of a long line outside of a Zebra Empire-run hospital in Tall Tale was shown next to a long line outside of Fearless Fifty Medical in Manehattan. The union-seized JSUC munitions factory in Fillydelphia was shown, its machinery in disrepair, along with a photo of the busted Coltumbia River dam. The crowd booed at the sight of the broken dam. Short portions of Featherweight’s cabinet meeting tapes played, eliciting more boos from lumberjacks and vineyard workers.
Pumpkin continued, “Like Zaporizhia, the cabal wants you to sacrifice worldly pleasures like gambling, alcohol, tobacco, coal, oil, sex, money, and magic. Instead of doing this to be ascetic, though, they do this for the sake of egalitarianism. The Encampment’s religion is so-called equality, and their god is the government which is supposed to deliver them from darkness, just as Zaporizhia would supposedly deliver his chosen people from darkness. Ironically, the fraudster gave you nothing but darkness.”
Pumpkin motioned out to the blackened skyscrapers and streetlamps of Tall Tale. She pointed up at the overcast sky, perpetually cloudy without the pegasi teams to clear it.
She continued, “To the fascist cabal, it’s not fair if some people are stronger, smarter, handsomer, wealthier, or happier than others. That might make their lessers jealous. Someday, just as Glimmer takes cutie marks from the endowed to please the talentless, Manehattan will take wings from pegasi to please the grounded, eyes from the sighted to please the blind, and life from the living the please the dead. If you hold equality as your highest virtue, you are embracing a ministry of death.”
The crowd muttered. Maybe that wasn’t the right way to make that point. Pumpkin quickly clarified.
“Of course, not all equality is bad. The state must treat its citizens equally under the law. Violations of that principle can lead to terrible things like the zebra internment under Twilight. Terrorist groups like the so-called Pony ‘Peace’ Patrol are misguided. As the Reverend Zeberene says, we should judge a person by his merit and accomplishments, not his species. Though the Encampment claims to fight against speciesism and racism, they actually divide Equestrians. Starlight Glimmer’s Equality Act does nothing to promote equality, instead demanding that employers pay no mind to cutie marks in hiring and firing!”
The crowd booed as the relevant section of the Equality Act flashed on the tower, the words as big as the windows.
“That’s right. Glimmer wants us to ignore what makes ponies and zebras so talented. The marks that only our two species, out of all others, can attain.”
The projection showed a photograph of a smiling Pumpkin at age thirteen, taken shortly after she received her cutie mark in intangibility magic, proudly displaying it for the camera. She stood in the dark Everfree Forest, next to Zecora, her own cutie mark a sun-spiral representing the illumination of her wisdom. A spotlight shone on the real-life Zecora, standing at Pumpkin’s side on stage. The audience clapped for her, and she bowed.
Pumpkin said, “I lived with Zecora for two years of my life. After my parents were killed, she raised me. I love her like a mother. She helped me find my special talent and hone my magical abilities. She taught me potion-making and many spells, and she also taught me what incredible people zebras can be. So when I found out she was imprisoned during the Racial War, along with hundreds of other innocent zebras, it angered me. General Spitfire is incompetent and racist for organizing the internment. She shouldn’t be serving as Rainbow Dash’s general in Manehattan!”
General Spitfire’s picture appeared on the tower, showing her, Rainbow Dash, and Pound Cake all together at a Wonderbolts camp. This picture got more boos than anything else had gotten all night.
Pumpkin chuckled. “What hypocrites, screaming about prejudice while being bigots themselves. So, after all I’ve shown you tonight, please raise your hoof if any of you still wish to unite with Manehattan.”
Out of a crowd of thousands and thousands of people, less than a hundred hooves were raised.
Pumpkin smiled. “That’s what I thought. Tall Tale and Vanhoover need another option. Join Free Equestria. In our new confederacy, business will thrive. Taverns, casinos, brothels, and any other sort of voluntary business can be opened in Tall Tale. Mining regulations will be repealed, bringing jobs to this city. When Rarity and I ran Magic Mining Mares, my intangibility spell gave me an advantage. But now, you won’t need a special spell to mine the mountains’ vast wealth.”
A picture of Rarity and Pumpkin mining pink diamonds showed up on screen. Everyone cheered.
Pumpkin continued, “Government roles will be reduced to the police, the military, and the courts. Everything else will be handled by the private sector. Immigration will be made much easier, and all of your families can come here from Zebrica. The police will be retrained and won’t go after zebras just for their species. If you need any proof that my plan will work, just look at Oatstralia. Since the coup against Marequarie last month, the mining business is booming, with three new mines opening. Thanks to police reform, the zebra immigrants in Sydneigh aren’t profiled anymore. With Oatstralia’s magic laws repealed, the zebras are no longer criminals for making or drinking potions. Arrests are down by half, and violent crime is down by ten percent. In Free Equestria, Mareicopa has had similar peace and prosperity. So can Tall Tale and Vanhoover!”
The crowd cheered.
Pumpkin concluded, “Together, we’ll all be prosperous, united, and free!”
The crowd chanted, “Free Equestria! Free Equestria! Free Equestria!”
Baltimare, November 2028
The weight of betrayal hung over Luna’s head as she soared in the night sky above Baltimare. Four batpony guards—loyal guards—flew beside her, practically invisible to those on the ground.
When Starlight Glimmer had stolen Luna’s cutie mark, she did it a bit too well. Once the initial shock of losing her mark wore off, Luna began to wonder. How did Glimmer know exactly where to teleport into the courtyard? How did she know exactly where the guards and Luna would be standing? How did she get out with Luna’s mark before the batpony screech could disable her? Luna was especially curious as to why the friendly fire incident had happened, when one of her guards had misfired his screech and paralyzed Luna instead of Glimmer, enabling Glimmer to more easily take Luna’s mark. The batponies trained for years to be as accurate with their ultrasonic attacks as possible. A competent batpony could channel his sonic wave in a beam accurate enough to disable an attacker hiding in a large crowd of innocents, leaving everyone else unharmed.
Luna had given intense scrutiny to Giles, the batpony who had ‘accidentally’ fired his sonic beam at her. After searching his quarters, she discovered Equal literature. When she confronted the guard, he confessed all. As batponies were a small minority that many ponies were suspicious or afraid of, their career options were usually limited to either circus freak, horror movie actor, or Royal Guard. Giles had never truly wanted to do any of those things. He’d wanted to be a psychologist, but what pony would go to talk through their fears with a shrink who was himself a creature from a nightmare?
“It would be like hiring an arsonist to put out fires,” he lamented.
So naturally, Glimmer’s message of equality had spoken to Giles. He and Glimmer concocted a secret plan to steal Luna’s cutie mark and further the goal of revolution.
Luna was outraged, though given her thousand year stint as Nightmare Moon, she certainly understood Giles’ desire to be accepted and loved by his peers. So, she promised not to have him executed if he told her everything he knew about Glimmer.
That night in Baltimare, there was nowhere for Glimmer to hide. The batpony’s ultrasonic waves, in addition to being a weapon, also enabled them to ‘see’ around corners and ‘see’ entire rooms from under door cracks, through open windows. Luna blasted a hole in the roof with a magical beam, the burning sides of the hole singing and glowing orange with embers until they blackened. The four batponies whooshed down into the hole, their wings silent in the dark. Their ultrasonic chirps and clicks filled the hallways as they searched the compound. Starlight Glimmer was sleeping right where Giles had said that she would be… by the cutie mark vat.
Luna teleported over. “You will never steal another mark again, Starlight Glimmer!”
Glimmer frantically shrouded herself with intangibility, but it was no use. Not even intangibility could protect a pony from hearing the soul-wracking shriek of four batponies combined, like some barbershop quartet from tartarus. Though she would feel no pain and suffer no ear damage just yet, the mere spike in brain activity from perceiving such a tremendously loud sound was enough to immobilize her. Presently, her spell wore off as her concentration broke. All four guards concentrated their sonic blasts on her head, just centimeters away. Her own screams of tortured agony were whispers compared to their utter loudness. Glimmer’s eardrums bled, then her eyes. Finally, her head exploded into mush all over the wall.
With one, final, great shriek, the batponies shattered the glass of the cutie mark vat. With nothing to restrain the thousands of marks anymore, they flew out of the hole in the roof like a flock of birds, glowing and sparkling as they raced all across Equestria back to their owners. As Luna was standing right next to the vat, her cutie mark was the first to return to her flank. It glowed and shimmered, and she smiled.
Over the next few weeks, as Luna surveyed the dreams and nightmares of her former subjects, she received a mix of agony and ecstasy. In one nightmare, an elderly unicorn painter dreaded the sudden return of her mark, having a nightmare about literally painting herself into a corner with her compulsion. But in one fantastic dream, a young filly reunited with her softball cutie mark finally hit her first home run in the majors. An older paleontologist dreamt of going back to the time of wooly mammoths and riding atop the back of one.
But while those dreams all had a chance of happening in real life, Luna’s own personal dream, raising the moon again for her subjects, would never and could never come true again. She was no longer a princess and had no authority to raise it. She felt saddened by this, but happy that she’d eased the troubled minds of so many of her subjects who Glimmer had robbed. As for the ponies who were plagued with nightmares from having their marks again, Luna certainly had her work cut out for her in soothing their thoughts.
But now, she had the mark to do it with.
Ponyville, December 2028:
In the town hall, Derpy Hooves twiddled her hooves, anxious about the meeting that she’d arranged. She was the first arrival, and was now awaiting the other participants. Though former best friends, they were now as far apart as Derpy’s eyes. As their friendship had torn, so had Equestria.
A natural, continental divide stretched across Equestria from the Crystal Empire in the north to the Badlands in the south. The divide was made of geographic features: the Flatlands, the Canterlot mountains, the Everfree Forest, and the Galloping Gorge. Rainwater falling on the east or west side of the divide would flow downstream to the east or west coast, respectively. But now, the continental divide was a political divide, too. All cities and towns west of it now claimed to be the Confederation of Free Equestria. They included Applewood, Tall Tale, Mareicopa, Las Pegasus, Vanhoover, Salt Lick City, El Lasso, and Albuckerque, among others. All cities east of that divide now claimed to be the Equestrian Republic. These included Manehattan, Cloudsdale, Fillydelphia, Baltimare, Horseshoe Bay, Whinnyapolis, Dodge Junction, and Hollow Shades, among others.
Equestria’s political divisions had now gone fully international. Almost every major world power had picked a side. The Second Duchy, Criollo, and Oatstralia had signed a mutual defense treaty with Free Equestria called the Western Alliance, while the Stirrupean Union, Brayzil, and Neigh Zealand had signed a mutual defense treaty with the Equestrian Republic called the Eastern Alliance. The Crystal Empire, Zebra Empire, and the remnants of the Griffon nation were the only major powers who hadn’t yet picked a side.
In the midst of all of this division and strife, there stood one single town smack-dab in the middle of Equestria. It sat atop both the continental and political divide, and was determined to preserve its neutrality. It was little, inconsequential Ponyville, still proudly fluttering the ancient flag of the pony sisters, Luna and Celestia, who had ruled together for eons over the first ever united Equestria. Cheerilee, Derpy, the Crusaders, and all other Ponyvillians desperately hoped that those days of harmony could return again. Perhaps it was wishful thinking. Maybe there could be no unified Equestria without Celestia. After all, her death had caused a power vacuum which her nephew Prince Blueblood had eagerly filled in Canterlot. He created the Second Kingdom and sparked the Racial War to begin with, which had evolved over the years into a much larger conflict and division that encompassed not just Canterlot, but nearly every city and town in Equestria, and many countries around the world.
The conflict was mostly words and barbs at this point, and no actual shots had been fired since the Siege of Dodge Junction. If Derpy Hooves’s meeting couldn’t reunify Equestria, then at least she hoped she could keep the conflict a war of words instead of a worldwide shooting war.
The door opened, and in walked the arrivals from the Crystal Empire. Twilight Sparkle sauntered in, her head hung low, while Pinkie Pie bounded in, hopping up and down.
“Wow, Ponyville hasn’t changed a bit since I was here last! Well, except for all of the anxious ponies sitting around chatting nervously, worried that war could break out at any minute—”
Twilight Sparkle zipped Pinkie’s mouth closed with magic.
“Hello, Derpy,” Twilight said. “Thanks for having us here. Picking Ponyville was a great idea. It’s a neutral town that all of us are familiar with. Maybe it can be the way to common ground.”
Derpy blushed. “Oh, well I’m glad you liked my idea. I’ve never gotten a compliment from a princess, before.”
“The only thing that’s missing here is cake, streamers, and party favors that represent unity! Ooh, like silly string to tie ponies together, or Chineighse hoof traps that ponies can’t pull their hooves out of!”
Derpy giggled. “That idea’s kinda silly.... I like it, though!”
The door opened once more, and in walked Free Equestrian Treasurer Applejack and Director Rarity, who’d won the Free Equestrian elections in November.
“Rarity! Applejack!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed, rushing over and embracing them.
“Howdy, Pinkie Pie. How’s that rock candy farm goin’?”
“It’s hard, hard work! I don’t know how you farmed for so long, Applejack. Even my callouses have callouses!”
Applejack chuckled. “Hard work’ll do that…” she paused. “Ugh... Leave it to Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy, the two pegasi, to be late.”
“We’re right here, AJ,” said Fluttershy.
The five ponies turned around to see Interior Minister Fluttershy rush through the door, carried by the newly elected President Rainbow Dash in her hooves.
“Sorrrry, Applejack,” Rainbow Dash muttered. “Some of us were giving rides to our friends... that some of us kept locked in a basement for a month!”
Applejack shook her head. “Fluttershy’s treatment wasn’t my call. The Punisher was one of Jubilee’s stallions, and he went way too far. I asked him to lay off the waterboardin’, but he wouldn’t listen to me, only to Jubilee. I’m truly sorry for that.”
“Yeah, right. The Element of Hypocrisy, lying again,” said Rainbow.
“Girls, please,” said Twilight, holding out her hooves between them. “We have to start from a position of reconciliation, or we’ll never get anywhere.”
“Well, unless you count going around in circles to be going somewhere, which I do!” Pinkie exclaimed. She spun around on her hooves, making herself dizzy until Twilight grabbed her with magic to make her stop.
“I forgive you, Applejack. I know that you wouldn’t have had me tortured if you could’ve helped it,” said Fluttershy.
“Thanks, Flutters,” said Applejack. They gave each other a hug.
Twilight smiled. “Now we’re getting somewhere! So, Director Rarity and President Rainbow Dash. You both know that I’m not trying to reclaim the throne, here. I’m here just as a friend, to help my friends and Equestria reconcile. Now, both of you claim to be the democratically-elected leaders of Equestria—all of Equestria. In a situation where there are these international alliances, that can be very dangerous, because neither of you recognizes the other government as legitimate.””
“Because Free Equestria is phony,” said Rainbow Dash. “Equestria’s capital is Manehattan, where I have control, and it’s always been Manehattan! Also—”
Fluttershy tugged on Rainbow’s mane. She whispered, “Uh, Rainbow… technically, um, Canterlot used to be Equestria’s capital, and was for centuries, but now it’s independent and aligned with them…”
“Quiet,” said Rainbow Dash. “As I was saying, your elections were a fraud. You just let anypony or corporation with enough money run unlimited radio and newspaper ads because it’s ‘free speech.’ What a crock. I’m not a physicist or economist or anything, but I’m pretty sure money isn’t speech. So, guess who won? The Rarity-Pumpkin ticket, with two mares worth billions. Gee, what a cooincidence! Oh, and you only let citizens without criminal records vote. Way to exclude thousands of people’s opinions.”
“We spent only our own money, and accepted no contributions, so that nopony could accuse us of being bought off by business interests. I thought that you didn’t like corruption, Rainbow Dash?” asked Rarity.
“You wanna talk about a truly fake election? Let’s talk about Manehattan’s ‘elections’,” said Applejack, putting her hooves in air quotes. “Y’all sit up there in Manehattan, promisin’ free healthcare, free maternity leave, free this, free that, drivin’ Equestria into debt. You’re like a kid runnin’ for class president who promises to put soda in the water fountains. The gullible masses vote for you, ‘cause they’re votin’ themselves a paycheck. That’s bribery! And you let millions of illegal burros from Brayzil vote, who ain’t even citizens, don’t understand how Equestria works, and don’t even pay taxes.”
Fluttershy gasped. “It would be speciesist to not let them vote! How could you even suggest we disenfranchise them, meanies?”
Twilight asked, “What if Equestria held new elections, under parameters that both east and west could agree to?”
Rainbow Dash scoffed. “Not much we’d agree on.”
Rarity nodded. “In a rare flash of insight, Rainbow Dash is at least right on that point. Non-citizens and felons can’t be allowed to vote in Equestria. Nor can we limit the free speech of candidates. I refuse to compromise on these points.“
“Well I won’t, either! And I won’t live in an Equestria where ponies die in the streets instead of getting government help,” said Rainbow.
“Those ponies should work, not lay around puttin’ our country in debt!” Applejack shouted.
“That’s so unkind! You aren’t the pony that I knew here in Ponyville,” said Fluttershy.
“Neither are you, Fluttershy,” Rarity scoffed. “My old spa partner from Ponyville would never have pretended that she understood economics. She was a quiet forest ranger who knew when her expertise and opinion ended and her emotions began. She exercised deference and restraint like a true lady.”
”I’m still Pinkie Pie!” Pinkie exclaimed, frowning. “And I still hate it when my friends don’t get along!”
“I think it’s fair to say that we’ve all changed. War changes ponies. But we all used to be such great friends,” said Twilight. “Can’t you all remember that?”
“Yeah, you guys were something special,” said Derpy Hooves. “You saved this town so many times, I couldn’t even keep track. Now you need to come together to save Equestria.”
“I have to stay loyal to my beliefs, and loyal to the oath I took in Manehattan to protect the welfare of the Equestrian public. Friends come second,” said Rainbow Dash, shaking her head.
“Such a twisted definition of ‘generosity’ as forced redistribution and public welfare can not be allowed to stand in Equestria. It would be like wearing stripes and plaid together,” said Rarity, turning her chin up.
“Friends or no, I ain’t gonna compromise my beliefs. That would be dishonest of me,” said Applejack.
“If my former friends have become unkind, then… I hate to say it… but… they’re no friends of mine anymore,” said Fluttershy, lowering her head.
The group stood in silence for the next five minutes, with nopony saying a word.
Finally, Derpy Hooves raised a hoof. “Uh.. girls? About that treaty—”
“There IS no treaty! Don’t you get it, Derpy?” Rainbow Dash shouted. “I mean, we won’t launch a war if the west won’t, but you Free Equestria fatcats had better just watch your back. This week, we signed a treaty with Queen Pupa of the Changeling Collective. Turns out that flying yellowjacket flags calling for their extermination drives them into the arms of the side that isn’t so specieist! Funny how that works, huh?”
Rarity laughed. “Figures that you rogues would sign a treaty with a parasitic nation.”
“They’re not parasites! The drones have been living among us for years, most of them working in terrible conditions. They disguise as pony prostitutes in illegal brothels just to get scraps of love,” said Fluttershy. “They’re terribly misunderstood by speciesists like you. Now, we can help them finally come out of the shadows and quit being exploited for lovemaking.”
“Well, if they ‘come out of the shadows’ to attack Free Equestria, rest assured that we will respond with our own allies,” said Rarity. “King Corona of the Dragons is quite the accomplished gentledrake. Given your continuous political rhetoric attacking independently wealthy people, this should come as no surprise. Last week, the dragons sided with the west, where high achievers are celebrated and looked to for inspiration.”
Rainbow Dash scoffed. “I shoulda known you’d side with thieving fatcats like the dragons.”
Applejack hooted. “Thieves? What a whopper. The dragons built their fortunes honestly through plying their skills. Earthmovin’, transportation, smelting ores, slash-and-burn of Brayzillian rainforests—”
Fluttershy shuddered.
Rarity shrugged. “We have said all that needs to be said. It would be a terrible mistake for you ruffians to trifle with Free Equestria or the Western Alliance.”
Rainbow stuck out her chest. “Oh yeah? Well don’t mess with the Republic or the Eastern Alliance, or you’ll be toast!”
Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, Applejack, and Rarity all stormed out of the town hall.
“Well, gosh… that didn’t go so well,” said Derpy Hooves. “I shouldn’t have even had this meeting. Now I feel guilty about those dragons and changelings getting into the fray…”
Pinkie giggled. “They signed those treaties before your meeting, silly!”
“Oh. Right,” said Derpy, blushing.
“Don’t feel bad, Derpy,” said Twilight Sparkle. “At this point, the dragons and changelings are just tears on a river. There are only a few hundred dragons alive on this planet, and the changelings only number a few thousand—their population never recovered after the disaster that was the Queen Chrysalis era. The dragons and changelings have some pretty unique magic, fire and shapeshifting respectively. However, the marginal benefit they provide to combined West and East Alliance armies of millions of ponies, zebras, donkeys, and griffons is pretty minimal. I mean, unless they find some unique way to harness and store that magic, I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”
Pinkie’s mouth gaped. “Twilight! Never start a sentence with ‘unless’ and then say something bad! Then you’re just begging for it to happen!”
Derpy nodded. “Yeah, Twilight... I mean, even I know that.”
Twilight groaned. “You girls are a hoofful, you know that? I don’t believe in superstitions.”
As she walked out of the meeting room, Pinkie’s tail started violently shaking.
The Oatstralian Desert, June 2029
Rarity, Pumpkin Cake, Walkabout, Stekton, Snips, and Snails stood inside of a cinderblock shed with double-paned glass. They all wore thick welders’ goggles, earmuffs, and aluminum suits. In the desert, they were baking in their suits, but Stekton assured them that they were necessary.
Stekton started the countdown through his muffled mouthguard. “Three…”
Snips and Snails giggled like schoolfillies. Rarity stood, looking austere as normal.
“Two…”
Magic built up at the tip of Pumpkin’s horn, ready to cast at a moment’s notice, as she would shield them all if things went bad. Walkabout was ready to teleport them out if needed.
“One!” Stekton shouted. For a brief instant, Pumpkin almost thought she saw him crack a smile as he pressed the button.
A blinding orange light filled the desert many kilometers away. The goggles were barely enough, and the ponies reflexively shielded their eyes. The ground rumbled, and the thundering shockwave hit the shelter soon afterwards, knocking them all off of their hooves. Sand clods, dirt, and shards of glass slammed into the sides of the hut.
“YEAH!” Snips shouted a few moments later, returning to his hooves.
“We DID it!” shouted Snails.
“Thank Garble and Crackle, as well. They breathed their fire into that bomb every day for three months,” said Rarity.
“Oh no, we’ve really come a guster. Look at the ground,” said Walkabout. “The dragonfire bomb’s turned the desert sand into glass. We’ll be cleaning up this rubbish up for years!”
“Look on the bright side, Walkabout. At least no one lives nearby. That’s why we picked this spot,” said Rarity. “And the sun shimmering on that glass is actually rather gorgeous.”
Walkabout shrugged. “Well, I s’pose I do owe Free Equestria for the coup against Marequarie, and we can’t have another alliance where Oatstralia doesn’t pull its weight. We’ll sell you as much ore as you need to build more bombs.”
Pumpkin nodded. “Though we do need a larger arsenal, I hope we never need to use it. We won’t be like my brother, who uses his rainboom every time he needs to break an egg for his totalitarian omelet. This bomb is many times more powerful than a rainboom. It’s a defensive weapon only, a deterrent to the Equestrian Republic. Now the cabal will know that if they ever shell our cities again, they’ll pay a heavy price. Manehattan will become a giant parking lot, and the whole Pound Plantation will burn. But I think that day will never come, because not even Dash or my brother would be stupid enough to challenge us now.”
“Ironically, for all of its destructive potential, this may turn out to be the greatest peace-keeping weapon ever devised,” said Rarity. “Although, the threat of its use will only ever be implied to the enemy. We’ll let them guess at our intentions, and I do hope that we never hear a Free Equestrian, Second Duchy, or Oatstralian politician give a public speech mentioning a Manehattan parking lot. We wouldn’t want our enemy to panic; ponies who feel backed into a corner are capable of very desperate actions. Sometimes, unwise actions. I think you know that well, Pumpkin Cake.”
Pumpkin blushed slightly, though her aluminum suit hid it from view. “You’re right,” she said.
She didn’t need to be reminded of her own desperate, unwise actions that she’d taken over the years. The last thing that she wanted to do was force the Equestrian Republic into doing the same.
Manehattan, August 2029
Doctor Whooves, Rainbow Dash, Pound Cake, and General Spitfire gazed upon a large dragonfire bomb in awe. It took up almost a quarter of the conference room.
“That’s amazing!” Rainbow exclaimed.
Con Mane smiled. “We can’t have Mareicopa being the only ones with such weapons, can we?”
“Exactly. That’s why we ordered you on the spy mission to the Pumpkin Patch,” said Pound.
“That’s one huge pumpkin you’ve plucked, alright,” Rainbow chuckled.
“How ever did you do it?” asked Doctor Whooves.
Con Mane said, “Stekton’s warehouse isn’t as well-guarded as he thinks. After sleeping with a security guard, I swiped a clearance card from her nightstand and gained entrance under a clever disguise. From there, I cloaked the bomb and carried it out undetected.”
Doctor Whooves smiled. “Jolly good show! Now, I shall take a look at its workings…”
With a screwdriver, he removed a bolted panel to inspect the device’s inner workings. It contained a triggering device, radiator, and compression mechanism. Its largest component was a giant cylinder of bottled dragonfire that glowed red hot.
Doctor Whooves said, “Curious. The device appears to work by compressing and storing large amounts of dragonfire. As a plasma, the dragonfire can only be held at such high pressures by certain types of precious metal containment devices. The radiator keeps it cool—cool being a relatively icy five hundred degrees—until it’s activated by the triggering mechanism and heated up again. Then, as it heats up and expands, the bomb explodes, much as fire from a dragon’s belly. In this bomb’s case, it’s the equivalent of tens of thousands of dragons all at once, and could instantaneously levy an entire city.”
“Can you replicate it? We can’t have the enemy having such a weapon if we don’t, too,” said Spitfire. “Preferably, we’d build as many as possible, because who knows how many they have.”
“Ten,” said Con Mane.
Spitfire shook her head. “That’s enough to wipe most of us out. Can you build a dozen, Whooves?”
Whooves sighed. “That would be difficult. We’d need a massive supply of precious metals like tungsten and platinum. The ore deposits do exist in Equestria, near the badlands...”
“That’s perfect! We can get the Changelings to mine them for us,” said Rainbow Dash.
“Will Fluttershy be okay with that? Animals do live in the Badlands, you know,” said Pound.
Rainbow shrugged. “I’ll overrule her if I have to. This is more important than a few striped buzzards, horned vipers, desert foxes, or whatever else lives there. We’re talking about whole cities that could be wiped out by those terrorists, unless we have bombs of our own that we could use in return. They’d think twice about blowing us up if it meant they’d die, too.”
Whooves nodded. “With the metal, I could replicate this bomb… but for one hitch.”
They all looked at him expectantly, and then Pound smiled. “Oh, I know. Because we don’t have the dragons on our side, so we can’t harvest their fire to put in a bomb.”
Whooves nodded. “Precisely.”
Pound shook his head. “Yep, we just have Stirrup and the changelings.”
Rainbow groaned. “All that spy work for nothing.”
Con Mane chuckled. “Well, it wasn’t all for nothing. I showed that security mare a good time. When she’s hung for treason, she’ll still think I was worth it… because I’m hung for other things than treason.”
They all laughed.
“I just hope that they don’t think I was a changeling spy instead of a Trottish unicorn spy. I do hate others taking credit for my work.”
Whooves smiled. “Brilliant, Con! We don’t need the dragons to make a bomb, because we have the changelings!”
Rainbow tilted her head. “I don’t get it. Changelings have shapeshifting, not fire.”
“Yes, but what enables them to shapeshift?”
“Magic.”
“Correct, but not the usual unicorn magic,” said Whooves. “Changeling magic is far more potent at rearranging particles. Even a novice drone can imitate a target pony or animal far more convincingly and longer than the greatest unicorn magician. But changeling magic comes with a cost. It’s highly specialized, so they’re really only good at shapeshifting, with no other magic talents. Also, changeling magic is highly volatile. If a changeling’s horn is destroyed, they won’t simply suffer a loss of magic. With no horn to channel their magic, they’ll explode into a mess of particles as the uncontrolled magic consumes them and ‘rearranges’ them all over the place.”
“A few of our sharpshooters learned that trick back when the Changelings invaded Canterlot,” said Spitfire. “Shoot the horn, and the whole body explodes. Sometimes it’ll even crack the pavement below and blow out a few windows, or kill other changelings nearby. They’re like living bombs.”
Whooves nodded. “Now you see my idea. It would be a simple modification to create a bomb that compressed and detonated changeling magic instead of dragonfire. When detonated in a target city, the city would be obliterated. Of course, we wouldn’t need to destroy any changeling horns to build the bomb. We’d just need thousands of changelings to pour some magic into each rearrangement bomb, the same as how hundreds of dragons breathed fire into each dragonfire bomb.”
“I say that we go for it,” said Spitfire. “Hopefully we never have to use this bomb, except to test it. It’ll be a great deterrent, though.”
Rainbow Dash nodded. “Good thinking, Doc. Coordinate the mining and magic with Pupa. Let’s build these bombs!”
Ponyville, 2036
“We’ve come to find, our love is brittle
What’s yours and mine, it’s such a riddle
I’ve got in mind, let’s meet in the middle
We can be fine, we’ll each give a little.”
The jangly bumper music of Derpy Hooves’ talk show played over the airwaves of Ponyville, its soft rock guitar belying the seriousness of its message. The song was originally written about a messy divorce. The couple couldn’t decide who owned their joint possessions, and the singer appealed to his ex for a peaceful compromise. The song now had new meaning as the bumper music for “The Middle,” a show that called for East and West Equestria to peacefully compromise.
Derpy was never a good speaker, and often didn’t know what to say. Thankfully, she had a skilled producer who prepared much of her material ahead of time, and had a lot of good callers. Unfortunately, only Ponyville radio broadcast The Middle, though thousands of tapes could be found all over the world.
“Welcome to The Middle,” said Derpy. “Pound Cake and Pumpkin Cake, the newly-elected leaders of East and West Equestria respectfully... er, respectively... now claim they have hundreds of weapons of mass destruction. Even though each side has enough to destroy every major city in the world, they just keep building more. It’s really scary… I just hope that their love for each other as siblings can trump their hate. Like when Princess Celestia sent Luna to the moon and saved us from eternal night! Oh, wait, maybe that’s not the best example… well, like when Luna reformed, and then Celestia… uh, died—”
Derpy’s producer motioned for her to be quiet. It was always pretty obvious when she strayed off script and started improvising.
“Uh, let’s take some callers. Line one from Ponyville.” She giggled. “Well, obviously from Ponyville. It’d be weird if it were from somewhere else.”
“Hello, Derpy, my name is Reverend Waddle, Ponyville’s holy stallion,” said the caller, an elderly stallion whose voice clicked and whistled. “East and West Equestria are both godless, secular governments. Back in the day when Princess Celestia ruled, we hardly ever had conflict, because ponies respected her. If we want peace, we should remember that killing is a sin, as is stockpiling weapons. Maybe if more ponies had faith, they wouldn’t be so quick to anger.”
“Uh, I mean...” Derpy started. “I like peace, too, but I don’t wanna have a religious argument on my show.”
She hung up on him.
“Line two from… ooh, South Ponyville? How exotic,” Derpy giggled. “You’re up.”
“I’m Rose,” said a voice.
“And I’m Daisy”, said another.
“Lily’s my name,” said the third.
“We’re the Flower Sisters!” all three shouted.
“Wow, a three-in-one caller,” said Derpy. “This is like the guy who called in with multiple personality disorder, except… ya know, not crazy.”
The Flower Sisters laughed.
“We’re the best of sisters. We’d never let politics divide us,” said Rose.
“I’m for a big government,” said Lily.
“I’m for a smaller government,” said Daisy.
“I’m for no government at all,” said Rose. “But we three get along well, as long as we don’t talk politics. We still love each other. Pound and Pumpkin are brother and sister. Why can’t they understand that?”
“If they’re not careful, they’ll blow everyone up,” said Lily.
“It would be terrible, awful…” said Daisy.
“Horrible, all of the dead...” said Rose.
“The horror! The horror!” the three shouted.
“Thanks, girls,” said Derpy. “I agree, it’d be horrible if those weapons were used. Pound and Pumpkin need to remember the love that they have as siblings. But let’s not spread panic. I wanna be uplifting and stay positive. Next is line three from Ponyville.”
"Hello, Miss Derpy," said the voice. He had a smooth, sophisticated tone, with a slight arrogant twinge. "Those last callers seemed perturbed, but I, for one, encourage the widespread use of WMDs. It would be delightful!"
Derpy exclaimed, "That's terrible! How could you say that?"
The caller responded, "Oh, ‘cause wouldn't the apocalypse be so cool? We'd have roving bands of thugs enslaving and pillaging defenseless towns like Ponyville, fighting over the last bottles of soda. Gangs of outlaws would tool around the Oatstralian desert in souped-up sports cars held together by bailing wires and broken dreams. Ooh, and what if zombies or aliens entered the mix? Post-apocalypses are great fun to watch. I've already made popcorn!"
Derpy gasped. "You awful caller! Who are you?"
The voice chuckled. "Oh, just a chaotic old friend of Celestia's."
Derpy Hooves stammered. "D-d-Discord? But I thought that you were—"
"What, dead? My sweet, cockeyed jockey, did you really believe that it's possible to kill a law of nature? Entropy and decay are universal constants. Given enough time, the chance of an apocalypse increases to 100%, and everypony’s chances of survival drop to zero. Ironically, the only immortal thing is chaos. It’s an unstoppable force. Sure, people fight death and disease with medicine and magic, but they’re just delaying the inevitable. Equestria’s time will come… maybe today, maybe years from now. Maybe from WMDs, maybe from an asteroid. Not knowing is part of the fun! Ponies look to pesky structures like business, government, the church, or love to answer the problem of decay. But structures are all temporal and flawed. The twins are fighting so hard to find society’s ‘correct’ structure, but they’ll never find it, because there isn’t one! Entropy is the only constant, the only satisfying answer. The twins don’t realize, but they’re both fighting on the same side of an unwinnable war... with me.”
“Wait a minute…” said Derpy. “I think you’re a fake. If you really were Discord, couldn’t you have already destroyed everything?”
The caller laughed. "Oh, I could just snap my fingers and blow everything up… but then I’d miss watching trillions of sleepless nights, the people’s terror that once they go to bed, they’ll never wake up again. I’d miss watching the leaders’ decision to push the button and wipe out all of sapient life just to satisfy some petty political dispute… ironically proving my point about chaos being the only satisfying answer. If I blew everyone up immediately instead of letting them squirm for a while, that would be like skipping to the last chapter of a long, enjoyable book! That, or maybe I'm just a crank caller and not really Discord. Like everything else so far, it's up to you to decide.”
Derpy shook her head. “You’re wrong, whoever you are. I think that love will win in the end.”
“Eh, whatever you want to believe. As for me, I have fireworks to watch. Toodles!”
The caller hung up.