Chapter 17: Don’t Tread on Me
Rear Admiral Shane shuffles his feet across the concrete pier, after having a stress-release walk to view the packed navy shipyard that contains his carrier strike group. As he strolls, towering over him is the Wasp-class USS Boxer, blocking the soon setting sun in a cooling shadow. Many of the sailors, marines and engineers by the amphibious assault ship stop to salute the admiral, who returns the favor, before getting back to work.
Even after standing outside gazing at the crowded shipyard doesn’t seem to help the admiral. He skims through his memories to where he spoke to Washington. Unfortunately, they weren’t too happy when the media from Japan and Hawaii finally slipped into the hands back at home, regarding the three missing ships from Yokosuka and the encounter with the strange crystal island. To add more pressure, Congress is pressuring him to give up the Nimitz for extended repairs on the twin nuclear reactors. If only politics could understand the thoughts running through his mind.
The admiral shakes his head, and proceeds to walk at an almost brisk pace until his ship comes into view. Like a person under surgery, the USS Nimitz has white tents laid across the flight deck and over the sides. All sailors and crew are replaced with engineers and scientists repairing and experimenting on the admiral’s ship. It still hurts him to see it in this state, let alone giving it up.
“Admiral,” a voice calls. Admiral Shane turns around to see Commander Stannor of the Arleigh Burke-class USS Preble, standing at attention with a file by his side.
“Commander Stannor,” the admiral salutes back, and both of the officers begin to walk. “Any reports from the Ronald Reagan?”
“Strike Group Nine just left San Diego five days ago. Reagan, Cape Saint George, Momsen and Sterett. When they arrive here, they’ll swap carriers with Strike Group Five from Yokosuka.” The admiral nods. He remembers the memo from Congress, though it has been a hassle with the economy, the young 22-year-old carrier USS George Washington will be undergoing its mid-life overhaul, while the younger 11-year-old USS Ronald Reagan replaces it as the flagship for Strike Group Five.
“It’s going to be a bit crowded when they get here,” Shane says as both officers turn to look at the USS Nimitz before entering a building.
“Indeed, sir. You wonder how it all went to this.”
“Well, sometimes, you learn that from years of sailing in the seas.”
“But, nothing like this.”
The two officers stare at the aircraft carrier, admiring it like a piece of artwork. Though, it is true of what Commander Stannor said. Over a thousand men in four ships he was leading to fight, gone from a simple floating island of crystals in a flash of light, and the same fate with the three ships from Yokosuka. He already lost two other ships; one, the USS Halsey, demolished from the crystal, and the other, the USS Kidd, sliced in half. The admiral has faced countless times facing incoming enemy threats, especially during the Gulf War, but facing a crystal island that shoots a laser beam and destroys a guided missile destroyer, and takes four other ships is something new, and it makes him cringe full of agitation.
“Let’s get to the briefing room and discuss the details with the rest,” Admiral Shane finally speaks after struggling through his dry throat.
“Of course, sir.”
*****
“Alright, so the train ride will be a little over eight hours,” Commander Ketcher says pointing to a certain location on the railroad line between Ponyville and the White Tail Forest on a map Diesel has given them. Standing around him are the rest of the Navy ships’ commanders, four of the MV-22 Osprey pilots and Twilight Sparkle.
“We’ll stop at the halfway point, from there, it should be about at least two hours back to the Anchorage,” one of the pilots says. “We’ll refuel and head over to Manhattan—”
“Manehattan,” Twilight corrects him.
“R-right… we’ll head over there and, hopefully, get the Bonhomme Richard and our two destroyers to our current location.”
Commander Cullens turns his head to the lavender unicorn. “Do you have another map that shows more south of the country?”
“Sorry,” Twilight shakes her head. “As far as I know, we never ventured further south beyond that point.”
“Well, that’s great. The three ships could run the risk of heading south for too long, possibly taking weeks or months, running out of fuel before they get to our current location.”
“It’s a risk, we know,” Gaines says, and thinks for a moment. “We could send one of the ships south, probably launch a SanEagle to observe the area while we head to the Bonhomme Richard by Osprey.”
Though Twilight has been at her one hundred percent at listening to the humans’ conversations, she has no idea on most of the topics they are talking about. As they continue on, she jots down notes, trying her best to spell out certain words they are mentioning a dozen times. Even though she doesn’t understand it, Twilight can feel herself bursting with much knowledge the humans may offer; their past, their technology, how they think. The complete works. She has never felt this excited since she was at the Crystal Kingdom solving almost every of King Sombra’s tricks, like it was a test she knew was coming.
“I guess that’s an only solution,” Commander Harbort says.
“So,” Commander Gaines says to the others, causing Twilight to return from her travel through her imaginations. “Anyone want to volunteer to head south?” There is a silence through the entire group. Twilight, almost flushing red by the amount of scribbles and crosses in her notebook, tries to act normal after daydreaming of learning an entirely new intelligent species.
“I’ll go,” Commander Harbort says, forcing all eyes around to focus on him. “I’ll set the Michael Murphy on course once we arrive.”
“You have a ScanEagle?” Gaines asks, and Harbort nods.
“I have one in the hangar. But, I need someone who knows the seas around the country.” All eyes then turn to the lavender unicorn. Twilight suddenly feels a shiver run up her spin right up to her horn when she sees the humans looking down on her. Now, she feels like she is about to faint like Fluttershy.
“Do you know anyone of high-ranking that knows the seas?” Gaines asks.
“W-well, uh, um…” Twilight stumbles on her words, before taking a breather. “I, uh… don’t know anypony who knows the Equestrian seas, other than sailors and pirates.”
“We can’t allow anyone that will risk my sailors’ lives,” Harbort says almost demandingly. “Do you know anyone of at least close to royalty or a high-ranking officer that knows the seas?”
“N-not really. But, I can ask the princess.” Twilight suddenly feels a sense of stupidity and guilt running all over her head. Not only did she make herself almost look like an idiot in front of an intelligent species, but also she ruins her only chance to see how these giant grey structures the humans call ‘ships’ operate up close.
“Alright,” Commander Ketcher says. “We’ll ask the princess when she returns. In the meantime, lets wrap things up. We’ll leave by midnight and stop at the halfway point.”
Twilight lets out a small sigh of relief, thankful that the commanders didn’t think negatively of her. Though, her mind has been at a race since the day she first encountered the humans. And this day has been the most heart-wrenching race her brain can handle, with all the commotion of the media still trying to get a look from both in the sky and on the ground, the close-ups of the MV-22s and having conversations with the humans. She still has nearly seventy unanswered questions written down in her notebook, but now, she must be as patient as possible. Hopefully, she can still cling on to that.
LCpl. Kevin Brooke
2nd Battalion 1st Marines
Ponyville, August 31st Day 9 16:11:01 PM
My stomach starts grumbling as Private First Class Michaels, Private Darwin, a journalist stallion Summer Pine and I reach an open area in town after going through an empty backstreet. Just right in front of us, approximately twelve meters, sits an over-decorated gingerbread-type of house, with a crowd of ponies walking around but none entering or exiting. I remember spotting this last night when Michaels and I were walking with Banana Seed. But, looking at it in the daytime makes my stomach growl even louder. The last time I ate something was my last MRE in the morning, plus a few other offerings from the town.
“Alright, we’re almost there,” Summer Pine whispers to us, and prepares to move, but is quickly yanked back to us by his tail from Michaels.
“Not so fast, buddy,” Michaels says. Soon, the stallion’s eyes are filled with fear, and sweat starts dripping off his face like he is in a rainstorm. “Now listen, we don’t wanna cause you harm, okay?” We wait a couple seconds, before Summer Pine finally nods, but still trembles with fear. “Okay. I understand you’re trying to keep us from other journalists roaming around the town.”
“B-bu-but I—”
“No ‘buts’. Listen. You can’t keep us like this forever. We’re our own nation and species, and we’re already introduced to your country.”
“Y-yes, b-bu… but I… you know… d-don’t wanna… lose this… ch-chance.”
I let out a sigh before speaking. “Look, we know you want this chance to ask us as many questions as you want, but, this is really not going so well. So, instead of hiding us, how about we roam the area like the rest of ‘them’?” I point out to the open where the ponies are continuing their stroll.
“I… I,” Summer Pine stammers, before his head drops. “I understand. I-it’s just that… you know… my boss will fire me if I really don’t get this report.”
“I understand, but that doesn’t mean keeping us all to yourself.” The journalist nods his head understandingly, though feeling defeated and shameful for being selfish. “Now, we’ll go out just like everyone else around here. We don’t care if the whole damn town stares at us, or if a mob of news reporters charge at us. Got it?” The stallion nods again. “Good. If you want, we can answer some questions when we get to that place over there.” I point to the overly decorated gingerbread house, and Summer’s ears perk back up. “Depending on the questions, understand?”
“O-of course! Th-thank you! Y-you have no idea…!”
“We get it, buddy,” Michaels interrupts with a wave of his hand like he is growing impatient. “Let’s just go.”
The moment the four of us walk out of the small backstreet, all eyes of the locals divert to us. Already, I can feel that sense of uneasiness, as we are not even five meters out. Maybe I was being a little overboard about ‘we don’t care if the whole town sees us’ quote. Now, I’m starting to regret saying that. I can feel my heart beating harder with every step I take and sweat beginning to run down the side of my face through the helmet straps. Almost half of the area around us has gone silent, some ponies start whispering to each other while the rest continue on aweing. It feels I am having a case of stage fright.
Before long, as if it feels like I went through another five-kilometer march in boot camp, we finally reach the front doorsteps of the gingerbread-type building. The building itself has the conventional look of the cottages in Ponyville, except for the roof and other detailed features. The roof shingles are shaped like half cookies with white frosting on the edges. A tower in the shape of two cupcakes with pink frosting stacked up on each other, sits in the very center of the building, with three glowing purple candles stuck on the top. The windows, shutters and split door together are a magenta-like color, while the doorsteps are close to a light purple. To my complete surprise, the building almost smells as if it were literally made of the sugary treats, unless, it’s the baking that’s coming from inside.
Summer Pine is the first to enter, the bell rings from inside. As Private Darwin is next, a faint ‘ahem’ stops us three. It sounds coming behind, and fairly close. When I turn around, I notice a baby-type pony, almost the size of Banana Seed, standing a meter away. I didn’t even notice it until I looked down. Its coat is a peach color, while its hair and tail is a bi-colored dark and light pink formed in a soft curl.
“U-uh… um,” the little pony trails off, judging by its trembling voice, I believe is a filly, if I remember correctly what Banana Peel told me about genders in Equestria.
“Hey there, little fella’,” Michaels softly coos. I look around to check the surroundings. Sure enough, the entire square has stopped and is staring right at us like they are all watching a thriller movie.
Slightly scared by our size and probably looks, the filly scrunches a little. “U-uh, um…” She reaches behind and pulls out a white-pedaled flower, and quickly holds it out in front of us. “We-we… wel-c-co-come…” she whispery speaks out the word, and holds her breath for something else to happen.
I stare at the filly, utterly surprised she mustered up the courage to walk right up to us and hand us a daffodil. A part of me feels like it melted by the adorable pony and the warm greeting she is willing to give us, another part suddenly tensed up and I can’t move. I wait for a reply from either Michaels or Darwin, but none of them do anything. Everything around us holds their breaths, eagerly waiting for something.
As if a whole ten minutes just pass, I finally muster whatever courage I have, and got to move. Moving my M16 to the side, I slowly drop down to my knees, trying my best to shift my center mass to equalize the weight of the forty-pound assault backpack and Remington 870 shotgun on my back. The filly jolts back, surprised as I come down to my two knees, but still holds out the flower. I bring up a warm smile, noticing the filly beginning to relax. I pull off my glove, and slowly extend my hand out until I stop at an inch away from the daffodil. I can feel the cool breeze gently brush against my sweaty palm. The filly brings up a faint smile, and moves a little closer until the flower is right on top of my hand. I reach up, slowly wrapping my fingers around the stem just above her hoof. The filly jumps a little, and then quickly relaxes, but I still have a soft grip on the flower. Both of us stare at each other for a long five seconds, when out of the blue, both of us smile again, and the filly starts giggling. I notice from the corner of my eye a flash of light goes by, then another and another. I know ponies are starting to take pictures, but I don’t care at that point.
“We-welcome,” the filly says, her voice a bit more confident.
“Thanks,” I reply, giving her a warm smile, slowly take the flower and putting it in my left shoulder pocket. Soon, Private Darwin kneels down next to me, and holds out his hand.
“Hey there,” he says, and the filly smiles. Somehow, it makes me feel warm inside and want to giggle as well.
“What’s your name?” Darwin asks.
“P-Peaches,” the filly says, moving up another inch closer.
“It’s lovely to see you, Peaches.” Darwin reaches a little closer with his hand, and Peaches grabs it with her two fore hooves. I can hear the ‘Ooh’ and ‘Aw’ coming from the crowd. “My name is Darwin. This here is Brooke, and the one behind is Michaels.” Peaches can only giggle as she bounces Darwin’s hand up and down in a funny shake before finally releasing. With one last smile from, she runs off back into the crowd calling to her mother. A split second later, the crowd of ponies start stomping their hooves on the ground, whistle loudly and take photos, like they are cheering for us. Darwin and I stand back up, and the three of us merely wave. I wonder to myself if this is how being famous feels like, except you’re a soldier and not a celebrity.
As the three of us enter the gingerbread shop, we are greeted by a fair amount of eyes, including Summer Pine. This time, instead of fear, their eyes are filled with some comfortableness.
“Boy, was that something,” Summer says walking up to us.
“Heh, no kidding,” Michaels says rolling his shoulders.
“I’m surprised that filly had the courage to go up to you three. Nopony here would do that when a creature walks into town.”
“Well, now you know.”
The interior of the café is almost what I expect. The wood panel flooring is a mix of a green-blue color, with different carpets varying in sizes, colors and shapes spread out. There are counters both in front and to our right, one with different assortments of candy, and the other, which is larger, has trays of many kinds of pastries. Everything around us feels colorful, bright, almost as if I’m in a candy store. Not too much where everything is packed, and not too little where it looks plain and dull. Just right.
The only thing that slightly sets off the mood are the ponies, who are all pretty much glancing at us with mouths agape. Luckily, there are only three round tables filled with two ponies each. So, it won’t feel too awkward to have three humans being interviewed. But, my eyes catch the glimpse of two other ponies behind the counter. One is yellow with and orange spiked mane, a striped bowtie and a hat, and the other is light blue with a swirly bi-colored dark and light pink hair. Judging by their aprons, they seem to own this place. Both of them freeze up with their widen eyes covering almost half of their faces.
“Um… g-good day,” Summer Pine says to the two ponies behind the counter, trying his best to act natural. “Uh, table for four please?”
“O-oh, uh, uh, uh…” the blue pony stammers after a long moment of staring. “C-cer-certainly! U-uh… n-need a… big table?”
“Uh, please, thanks.” In a flash, the two ponies dash to the side, and reappear a second later with three large stools. They hastily set up two tables and the stools on the opposite end of shop, before returning back behind the counter with a nervous smile.
“O-over there!” the yellow pony says.
“Uh… thanks,” Summer Pine says with a crooked smile, and steadily moves to the recently set up table, with us following suit. I take a quick glance at the two shop owners, and give them a wave. Both of them wave back almost immediately.
As we sit down on the table, Darwin nearly bangs his knees on the edge, as well as Michaels.
“Y-you guys okay?” Summer Pine asks almost jumping out of his seat.
“We’re fine, we’re fine,” Michaels says lifting an arm up. I take off my ILBE, and settle it next to the leg along with my M16, leaving my Remington on my back. I can still hear the crowd going on from outside, but none of them seem to bother entering the shop, not even the six customers across the room didn’t seem to scurry out after encountering us. Still, it is best if I keep my guard up for safeties. I sit down on the stool, sadly though, the seat feels as though it is meant for middle school students. As we finally settle in our small seats, except for the journalist, we sit there in silence as Summer Pine gathers his notebook and a couple other items. One of them is a tape recorder. Flashes of light from cameras and chattering can still be heard from outside.
“So,” Michaels breaks the awkward silence. “You, uh… been to this place?”
“N-not really,” Summer replies. “But, uh… I heard they have the top best treats in Equestria.”
“Well, I can’t wait,” I say patting my stomach, a puff of dust flies off my tactical vest with every pat. Darwin smiles and looks around the place, when the light blue pony hesitantly makes her way.
“Uh…” she stammers, and turns her head to the side for a moment before returning back to the table. “We-welcome! T-to… Po-Ponyville.” The three of us give the pony a warm smile.
“Thanks for the welcoming,” I say, acting as calm as ever. Somehow, the crowd outside is not doing a swell job at calming down, but they certainly are being dignified to not barge like a hoard of zombies in like any fan would when they see a celebrity.
“O-oh, of course,” the light blue pony smiles. “W-we, um… saw you, um, three… yesterday, during the, uh, ceremony. W-with the princess.”
“Oh, yeah. That,” Michaels chuckles a little and takes off his helmet and headset. The mare arches back a little, probably surprised to either see Michaels’ shaved head, or to see that his helmet is actually removable.
“It was, uh… quite a crowd there yesterday,” he continues as he lets his hair breathe. Darwin and I do the same, and remove our helmets and headset, except for my headset in case Staff Sergeant Alcatraz contacts me.
“U-uh, uh… i-indeed,” the blue pony replies with a crooked smile. “S-so, um… wo- um… would you like something?”
“I’ll have a blueberry muffin and tea, please,” Summer Pine raises his hoof.
“I guess I’ll have the same,” Darwin says with a smile.
“How about a slice of that?” Michaels asks pointing to one of the counters filled with cake. “What’s the, uh… the one on the very top second to the left?”
“O-oh! Um, that’s uh… hmm… our, uh, fellow friend made that, b-but hasn’t given it a name yet.” She chuckles nervously; sweat starting to build at the top of her forehead.
“I guess I can try it. It does look good. I’ll take a coffee as well.”
“O-of course!” The pony turns to me last, as I already made my final solution. “A-and, uh… you, s-sir?”
“You have a grilled cheese sandwich, right?”
“Wh-why yes, we do.”
“I’ll have two and a water.”
“W-would you… l-like some hay fries… as well?”
“Uh, do you have just… regular fries?” The mare nods rapidly, her head bobbing so hard it’s as if it will fly off at any moment. “I’ll have that a bit.”
“C-certainly. Uh… let’s see… two blueberry muffins, two teas, Pinkie’s unnamed cake, a coffee, and two grilled cheese sandwiches with ‘regular’ fries and water. Got it.” She rushes back to the backroom located behind the counter as faster than she appeared. When she is gone, I finally let go of my breath I have been holding for God knows how long. My heart rate suddenly spiked when I look around the entire shop. Everything within it seems quiet, probably too quiet, while outside is as loud as a busy market. Ponies wanting to get a glimpse through the windows of us and taking photos with nineteenth-century cameras, putting me in a restless state. It still bothers me why they don’t walk in, but in a way, I’m glad.
When I turn back to the group, Darwin is twisting his head left to right and back almost frantically, getting a glimpse of the ponies on the opposite end of the large room who are non-stop staring at us. Michaels, however, has been staring at me with a look of suspicion.
“What?” I ask my friend as I wipe off the sweat off my forehead.
“Really, man?” Michaels says. “Grilled cheese in a place like this?”
I chuckle. “What? I’m starving. A five-foot eleven person gotta’ eat something big.”
“Well, at least have a cupcake or something.”
“Well, excuse me for not having a big sweet tooth like Mendez.” Michaels chuckles loudly, but tries to contain it when I mention Sergeant Mendez’s love for indulging sweet treats. I still have that vivid memory of him back at Hawaii, where he snuck a pack of Kit Kats before our training exercise during RIMPAC, and shared most of them with the South Koreans. And boy, did they enjoy it during that night operation.
“S-so… okay,” Summer Pine says, putting down a couple sheets of paper when Michaels finishes his laughter. He has a curious look as to what we were referring to, but later shakes it off. “U-um… if it’s alright… about the questions.”
“Sorry?” I ask turning my head, not even paying attention, but realizing the tape recorder is sitting in the center of the table already playing.
“Uh… the questions… f-for, uh, my report.”
“Okay, we can start with that,” Michaels says. “However, depending on the question, we will not answer any questions that are related to how our equipment work and military operations, as it is part of National Security of ‘our’ country. Got it?”
The stallion nods. “Y-yes. Of course.”
“Alright,” I say resting my arms on the table. Little did I know until now, my right foot has been tapping on the ground by its own. I start twiddling my thumbs rather rapidly, as my heart rate begins to rise once more. I don’t know why, but I have a feeling this may not end well.
*****
“Lyra! Where in Equestria are you?!” a certain cream-colored earth mare, Bon Bon, screams at the top of her lungs as she looks around her house finding her friend to be nowhere. “Ugh, I swear to Celestia’s beard if she went to Ponyville just for those creatures…!” She curses as she stands on top of a stool with her hind legs, and finally places back a book on the correct shelf, before tipping back and falling on her rump with a ‘thud’. She shakes her head and curses again. “Ugh! How in Celestia does she even stand on her hind legs?! It’s almost impossible without support!” Before long, the book she just placed falls on top of her head, giving her a legit headache.
“Why do I even bother?” she mumbles with a heavy sigh, and looks up at the clock. “She’ll be here anytime soon.” She looks around the living room, which she had just spent hours on cleaning. “Well, at least the entire place is clean. It would’ve been faster if Lyra were here. But, no! She just had to go to Ponyville to see those tall green creatures!” Just as she finished complaining to no one in particular, the doorbell rings, knocking the mare off her stressful trance. “Oh no. Here already? She was supposed to arrive in half an hour.” Bon Bon rushes to the door, and stops just in front to make herself look more appropriate by straightening her hair.
“Okay, Bon Bon. You can do this. Hopefully, this won’t end up like last year when we went to the spa.” Bon Bon takes a few deep breaths, and opens the door.
Standing right in front of her is a dark cream-colored earth pony. Her mane is an almost tangled curl, with two different shades of dark and regular blue, while her tail is fine and curls at the tip with said colors. She has a small patch of freckles between her eyes just above her snout. And her cutie mark is a bottle of milk surrounded by two wings.
“Milky Way!” Bon Bon cries happily, and embraces her cousin in a hug.
“Hey, cousin!” Milky Way greets, and the two pull apart.
“How was your trip?”
“Tiring as usual. But, boy, when I arrived at Ponyville, the whole place was crowded with journalists and reporters. Are…” The mare leans close to Bon Bon and whispers. “Are they still in Ponyville?”
Bon Bon nods. “Yeah. It’s been a hassle lately. Both in Canterlot and Ponyville. Right now, the princesses are helping… whatever they are called, out with those few things that fell from the sky.”
“I see. Oh, how’s living in Canterlot? When I arrived here, I was like ‘wow’! A lot of fancy places. E-except for the ponies here, you know, kept staring at my… you-know-what.”
“Y-yeah. It’s a bit difficult for me, since a lot of the ponies here are into their fanciness, and seem to interact very little with each other.”
“Aw, that’s a shame.”
“Other than that, it’s not bad living here. You just have to get used to the society of fancy living.”
Both ponies enter the house, with Milky Way’s luggage placed in the living room.
“So,” Milky Way begins. “Where’s Lyra?”
“Don’t know,” Bon Bon replies with a grumble afterward. “My guess is she went back to Ponyville for those creatures that were introduced.”
“You have something against them? They don’t look ‘that’ menacing.”
“No, I don’t. It’s just that Lyra has been non-stop talking about them for days and it’s almost driving me nuts.” Bon Bon and Milky remain silent as they stand there, both waiting for one to speak first, but no words come out.
“W-well, actually,” Milky says rubbing her chin. “I know I just arrived here, but, how about we go to Ponyville and see the creatures the princesses introduced? It would be amazing to show my friends back in Trottingham I get to see the new creatures. It’s spreading all over Equestria, even about those three floating things in Manehattan.”
“A-are you sure? Even after that long train ride?”
“Don’t worry, cous’. I can withstand the traveling. I’m always in the mood to do something.”
“I was about to think of the same thing,” Bon Bon mumbles as she veers her eyes down to her cousin’s undercarriage. “W-well, when do you want to leave?”
“Anytime is fine, really.”
“Okay. The train to Ponyville will leave in about fifteen minutes. If we hurry, we can make it.”
“Sounds fun to me.”
*****
“Alright,” Summer Pine says adjusting his glasses and takes another sip of his tea. When he sets down his cup, he takes one glance at us waiting for his next question. “What is that symbol on the patch?”
“Sorry?” Darwin asks.
Summer points to his center of his chest and makes a small circle, referring to our identity patches on our tactical vests. “That patch on you, clothing I suppose? Well… I realize you have more than one.”
“Well this one,” I begin explaining, first pointing to my identity patch on my vest. “This is our identity patch. And the symbol here, is the symbol of our corps.”
“And, uh, what is it?”
“It’s a globe of our planet, Earth, with an anchor going through as you can see. And right above it is an eagle with a ribbon in its beak.”
“Interesting, what does the eagle stand for?”
“It stands as our nation’s bird,” Darwin takes my place. “It’s the symbol of freedom for our country.”
“And, uh… is there, uh, a reason why this eagle is holding a ribbon.”
“Normally you don’t see it on our patches, but there is text on the ribbon, ‘Semper Fidelis’.”
Summer stops writing. “Uh, can you spell that for me?” Michaels takes the notepad from the journalist, scribbles down the word, and hands it back. “W-wow. What does that stand for?”
“It’s Latin. It means ‘Always Faithful’. That’s the motto for the United States Marine Corps. It means that the US Marines will always be loyal to their brothers and those who help, and always bring faith whenever in doubt.”
“’Always faithful’,” Summer repeats to himself as he writes down the translated word. “Very interesting concept. Thank you.”
“Any other questions you have?” Michaels asks as he finishes his coffee.
“Let me check.” Summer Pine briefly looks through his list, while I turn my head in all directions to check our surroundings.
Some of the locals from outside have left, but there are still a lot of ponies wanting to get a glimpse of us through the windows. Even the ponies across the room are still here for a whole half hour after they ate, staring and whispering to each other.
“W-well… no other questions in particular,” Summer says with a smile, probably the first normal smile we have seen since we met him.
“Well, that’s good then,” Michaels says, attempting to lean back against the wall. I finish downing the water after having what are probably the best sandwiches I had. Even though the place closely resembles a shop and deli, they do make amazing meals.
“Uh, ma’am,” Summer Pine calls for the light blue pony, “can I have the bill please?” As fast as ever, she returns with the bill in five seconds flat, much to our surprise. Usually, it takes a few minutes for a bill to arrive. I have a feeling it’s because of us. Summer lays down a few gold coins, at least twenty or more, after a brief look at the bill.
“What type of currency do you have?” Michaels asks out of curiosity, pointing to the gold coins.
“We pay in bits,” the journalist replies. “I, uh, assume you don’t have bits where you’re from?” The three of us shake our heads.
“No,” I say. “Our currency is dollars.”
“Hmm, interesting.” After a brief silence, Summer Pine takes one more glance at us. “S-so, uh… if you don’t mind, can you tell me… how you became what you are?” The three of us lift our heads almost at once.
“Sorry?”
“How, uh… did you became, marines? L-like… why did you join the military? U-unless it’s personal, that’s fine. You don’t have to say it.”
“N-no, it’s fine. We don’t mind talking about it,” Darwin says raising a hand. “For me, I joined because… well, I’m sure a lot of people will agree on this… I wanna challenge myself.”
Summer Pine looks at the marine with a perplexed look. “B-by joining the military? Y-you know you could do all sorts of things instead.”
“I know. The thing is… from where we’re from, we just have nowhere to go. The real reason I joined is so I can get into college. Colleges where we’re from is too expensive, and my family didn’t have the money.”
Completely stunned, Summer Pine remains silent for a moment as to what he just learned. I notice a trickle of sweat running down the side of his face before disappearing underneath the coat.
“O-oh, I… uh… I’m truly sorry… a-about that,” he says shockingly.
“It’s not biggie,” Darwin says waving a hand. “In truth, being the Marine Corps really teaches you some good prospects.”
“I… I see.” Summer turns to me. “A-and, uh… if you don’t mind… what about you?”
I freeze for a moment, staring at the stallion starting to calm down after Darwin’s explanation. When I turn to Michaels, he merely shrugs.
“Well,” I begin. “Michaels and I first met when we just started college. At first, we didn’t properly introduce to each other like majority roommates do on their first year in dorms.”
“O-oh, so you two know each other for a while?”
I nod. “Yep. And right after the first semester, we dropped out and joined the Marine Corps.”
“I… I see. Why, i-if you don’t mind?”
“Well…” I look down at my gear, still in place just like I left them, before looking back up. “My parents forced me to get into a good school and get a good job, something that was against my will. My mom is a skilled doctor, and my dad is a lawyer, which is why I grew up in a rich family. The problem is… as far as I remember they were rarely there for me. We always had a nanny to take care of me through certain situations until I can handle on my own while they were away. Both of them wanted me to get into law school and become something into law or… whatever.” I rub my forehead as my mind is exhausted from finding the correct term. “So, I just dropped college and joined the Corps.”
Summer Pine swallows hard. His eyes seem to widen a little further after I told my story. He never imagined anyone who being told to do something for their life against their will, let alone by their parents.
“I… I, uh… I’m deeply sorry,” he says looking down. “Y-you know… you know what cutie marks are?”
“What now?” Darwin asks tilting his head. Summer Pine gets up from his seat, and shows a picture of a pinecone with a small yellow swirl to the top right of it on his rump.
“This is,” he says.
“Oh that,” Michaels exclaims. “Ya’ know, I always thought these ponies here each had their own tattoo, except for the little ones.”
Summer Pine chuckles a little and sits back down. “No, not really. Those are cutie marks. I suppose you don’t have them?” The three of us shake our heads. “Well, they appear when we discover our special talents. We discover them when we are young, when we do something we feel passionate towards to, or love doing so much we don’t realize it. For me, I got my cutie mark when I was taking a walk through the forest with my dad. I love the nature outdoors, especially the scent of pinecones.”
“Well, I can see why,” Michaels jokes.
“Yes, indeed. B-but, in all seriousness, we got our cutie marks from something we enjoy doing in our lives. And everypony here accepts it.”
“We do have something we enjoy,” Darwin says. “Except in our world, the only thing stopping you is money.”
Summer Pine’s eyes widen once more, almost baffled from Darwin’s simple explanation. “Wh-what do you mean?”
“In our world, as long as you have money, you can have whatever you want to achieve what you do. If you don’t… well, it’s the complete opposite and you’re screwed.”
“B-but why?”
“It’s how our society is,” Michaels explains. “Probably world-wide as far as we know.”
Summer Pine rubs his ears, hoping he didn’t hear what Michaels just said. As he stares at us with a shocked look, we nod our heads. “S-still, that shouldn’t—!”
The stallion is suddenly cut off by a loud scream emerging from outside. We all stop, glancing at each other for a moment, before turning to the windows to investigate. Immediately, the crowd is rushing by loud screams when a flash of light, followed by a ‘pew-pew’, erupts.
“It’s her! She’s returned!! Everypony run!!”
“Outta’ my way!! Scram!!”
When the same noise appears once more, I feel myself diving back to when we arrived on the beach, ambushed by the Royal Guards. I freeze in position, my body tensing up whenever I hear the noise of a laser gun being fired.
“What the hell’s going on?” Michaels says getting up.
Before long, the door bursts off its hinges and lands just in front of the counter. The ponies across from us shriek in horror. As the cries of the crowd seem to settle down, but I can still hear the screaming, a familiar pony dressed in a purple cape and a large hat casually walks in, and stops almost in the center of the room facing us. In quick reaction, Michaels, Darwin and I grab our rifles and ready them, but didn’t point at the pony hiding its face. I kick my ILBE assault backpack under the table, keeping an eye on the mystery pony. The ponies in the background quickly huddle to a corner and cower, unprepared of what’s to happen next.
“Summer, get down now,” Michaels orders, and the stallion quickly obeys.
My heart rate suddenly spikes up again, as we hold our breaths as to what will happen next. Is it a robbery? A pony that wants to challenge us? Will she kill us?
Thoughts scramble my head, when Michaels finally shouts. “This is the United States Marine Corps! State your name and business, and we will not harm you!” The pony seems so familiar, as if I have met it somewhere.
“You,” the pony says. Just that one voice, I suddenly remember that pony. Before I could figure out any more, she raises her hoof towards us. “I am tired of waiting! You three shall serve under the Great and Powerful Trix—!” A pan slams right to the side of her head at point blank, causing the pony to fall face first into the floor.
We all stand there for a good long moment, contemplating on what just happened. Everything happened in a split moment. Neither of us could speak out, when I spot the light blue mare with the swirly mane, and the yellow stallion, walk out from the counter with pans in their mouths. I stare at them, looking like I just had a short circuit in my brain.
My attention turns back to the mare dressed in the purple cloak, and quickly rush over to her aid. The first thing I do is check for a pulse, placing two fingers on the mare’s neck, and pray to God she has one. I look around; the two shop owners with shocked eyes fearing the worst, the ponies on the other side of the shop with worried looks, and then the silent crowd beginning to reemerge to check on the situation. I hold my breath, and finally feel the beating heart from the mare.
“She’s alright,” I breathe. “She’s just knocked unconscious.” The two shop owners drop the pans and breathe relief. “Darwin, check on the others.”
“Aye.” The private races over to the startled ponies on the other side, and slows his pace at a meter away. I turn my attention back to the unconscious pony, when I hear her mutter something inaudible to my ears. I look back up on my surroundings, the first thing I see is the crowd from outside, and all eyes are glued to me. I feel a sudden panic slowly take over my body as my heart begins to race. This is a real situation, but not combat-related. But, all eyes are on me, us. I take several deep breaths and try to remember my training. What would I do when a person, or in this case a pony, do when they are hurt, or knocked out?
“U-ugh… h-he-head,” the pony below me mutters, though sounding a little clearer, a sign that she is beginning to stir.
I gently nudge her. “Hey, hey. Can you hear me?” I quickly remove the magician’s hat, revealing the pony is a unicorn, and has ice-colored hair in two different shades. I even notice a large swell developed on the side. The unicorn mumbles something again, but I couldn’t make it out. Taking quick measures, I move my M16 to the side, and turn to Michaels who has been helping Summer Pine. “Michaels, help me out over here.”
“I’ll be right back,” Michaels whispers to the journalist, and scurries over to me as I carefully take the pony in my arms.
“Alright, help me move her to that couch over that area,” I instruct, and turn to the owners. “Do you have a bed or something for us to settle her in?”
“U-uh… th-there’s a guest room upstairs,” the yellow pony says pointing to my left. “I, uh… can show you.”
“Thanks.”
Carefully but swiftly, Michaels takes the pony’s hind legs while I take hold of her upper body.
“Careful, careful,” I say, as we both carry the sleeping unicorn, following the yellow stallion to the stairwell. The mare in our hands grunts a few times, murmuring out a few slurred words.
“How the hell did we get into this situation?” Michaels grunts as we move upstairs.
I only shrug, as my mind is too busy to comprehend on today’s recent event. “Don’t know, man. I just don’t know.”
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As the author of another naval story, particularly the Bismarck, I'm enjoying this even more. Any naval action soon? :D
No, "Don't Tread on Me" is one of the mottos of the American Colonists during the American Revolution
3958913 It is also the motto for the USS America, it just came originally from the Colonists.
damn..... trixie, what in the world were you thinking
I absolutely love this story. The first like. . . 10 chapters had me hooked and reading up till midnight. Even in the more recent chapters, the whole 'Secretive Celestia' thing really works well. While reading the story, I can tell you that one thing that bothered me were the constant grammar and occasional spelling errors throughout each chapter. I really recommend doing a once-over after you create each chapter and fix some mistakes you might have made, or at least consider getting someone to edit your chapters once you finish them. There were times throughout each chapter where I had to mentally fix some sentences for them to make sense. Another issue would be the pilots of the four jets that were introduced earlier in the story. They seem to have been completely forgotten about (unless you're using them as part of your Celestia keeps secrets thing. In which case we should get some sort of hint to that.) The last we heard of them, they encountered a grey pony that talked to them, and now nothing! I hope you can bring some insight into their whereabouts and perhaps include some more information about the three ships that are in the Manehattan harbor. Other than that, I'd say you've got everything else spot-on! Keep up the great work!
3968425
I am glad you are enjoying this. Yes, there are a few grammatical errors (everyone here makes mistakes). I will be making a few changes when I am done with it (not anytime soon). And don't worry, you will see the fighter pilots and the ships in Manehattan after the next chapter I am working on.
Thanks for the feedback
Still a awesome story but it takes more pawor than Trixy has to Erving shot trancaliser laser she can barly use a tickling one without getting tired so how dose she thing she can put two sentient beings under her control that are smarter than her
oh and if I was her I wold have stolen the stick(assault rifle or MI6) and use it on twilight instead since thy can break a shield that can ceep a dragon under control
I shit you not... share anything with the south Koreans they will eat it.
In an alternate ending:
3969161
Are you dead