Welcome Home, Part One
The rain beat down with purpose on the car’s windshield. Driven by their command, the wipers occasionally arced up to flick the rain off the expanse of glass, sending the water off onto a new journey. Yet even still, that didn’t help much as new drops came to replace the old, an endless zerg rush of one blip of precipitation after the other. Restless, disquieting.
Just like Lyra’s mood.
“You know, Lyra,” a voice said from the back of the car, “in all our years working together, I have never known you to be pensive.”
A more familiar voice in the passenger seat joked, “It’s because she’s missing the Euro. She was rooting for Ukraine this year, but in this part of the country? Nobody cares about soccer.”
She looked at the second voice with mock irritation. “You want to get out and walk, Paul?”
“Out here where you hear nothing but banjos?” he asked, looking over paperwork for this particular visit, “Uh, no thanks. If I recall correctly, I have a distant cousin that lives thirty miles southwest of where we’re going, little town by the name of West Plains. But I don’t know her really well, and we did promise Harper we’d come visit him afterwards, so…well,” Paul Phillips looked at his wife, shrugging. “I think I can live without ending up on a milk carton somewhere.”
The unicorn ignored her husband’s odd comment; they were all feeling a little cooped up after the two-hour drive south from Saint Louis. She looked at the person in the back seat, via the rear-view mirror, smiling. “Thanks again for coming, Lorne. I know you were planning for your retirement, so getting dragged out here for this last-minute shindig’s much appreciated.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Dr. Lorne Faust wiggled his gray bushy eyebrows, smiling. “To be honest? I’ll miss being the Assistant Secretary for the Bureau of Alter-Earth Affairs. I haven’t even retired yet and I find that retirement is going to be a bore.”
“I’ll miss having you there. I mean, Charles seems like a nice guy, but it’s going to take me getting used to seeing Mr. Muenchinger on the door instead of Dr. Faust. Besides, he’s always about football, football, football. That gets old after a while.”
“Says the mare who shouts ‘GOOOOOOOOAAAAAAALLLLLLLL!’ when she punts a wadded piece of paper into the trash can,” Paul grinned. “I’m just waiting for the point when you tell our son that rooting for any team other than DC United is tantamount to being disowned.”
She gave him a lidded look. “Yup, you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”
The rain began to let up, and just in time, as the voice on Lyra’s phone told them they were approaching the destination. “Okay, here’s the point where we turn off Missouri Route 21, but…isn’t there supposed to be a sign marking the town?”
“I’m sure that’s it over there,” Paul said, pointing to the collection of buildings just right of the overpass. “Let’s just get off here and compare notes real quick.”
“Yeah, you’d think Apple would’ve updated their GPS maps to point out this. How old are these maps, anyway?”
“I’m not sure, but I know for small, out of the way towns, Google Maps only updates them once every five yea….” His voice suddenly trailed off. “Um, hon, I think we’re here.”
“You sure? I didn’t see a….” There was a pregnant pause on Lyra’s lips. “Okay, I did not expect that.”
From his seat in the back, now Lorne saw the sign. “I would have to agree. It seems things have changed quite a bit since those days.”
“Well,” Lyra said as steered down the offramp to head towards the city, “First thing, let’s get some food. I don’t know about you two, but I know I could use some lunch. Besides, a town this small, mayor can’t be full-time, so someone local might know where he is.” The other two agreed, and with that, the rented car pulled off Missouri Highway 21, connecting to Missouri Highway 106 as it rolled into town. As they did, they passed a large sign to the right of the off-ramp, a sizable carved wood billboard, lovingly done with care that read:
WELCOME TO BEAUTIFUL
PONYVILLE, MISSOURI
EST. CA. 1837
POPULATION APPROX. 2600
Shortly after entering the town, they pulled into a parking space adjacent to the Ellington Diner, a faded building with a streamline modern design that reflected a bygone era of America from the previous century. In fact, Lyra noticed as she looked down the main street, most of the buildings present were of the brick facades of the 1940s and 50s, and were it not for modern cars and LED and volumetric signage, she almost swore that she’d stepped into the past of her husband’s species.
“Something up, hon?” Paul asked.
“Just…something about the town. Seems so small and quaint,” she responded, brushing locks of her mane that the breeze blew into her eyes. “Doesn’t seem very much like a Ponyville…well, the one I knew at least. Of course, that one’s now a small city, so who am I to judge?”
“You see small towns like this all over this part of the country, and they never seem to change,” Paul replied. “My parents, sister and I used to take road trips when I was just a little kid, and we’d hit little towns like this – Ranson, West Virginia; Maybrook, Arkansas; Delgado, Utah; and the like. They survive because people just want things a certain way. Otherwise, they grow until they’re like your Ponyville. As for this one? Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Watch some Ken Burns documentaries on the subject, Lyra,” Lorne helpfully provided. “It should help explain a bit more about this sort of Americana. Oh, and for the record? I come from this sort of small town as well, so it’s not all that rustic and isolated.”
“You do?”
“Arthur, Nebraska,” he said with a note of pride. “County seat of Arthur County, Nebraska. When I was a kid? Population was a whole whopping 145 people. My brother still lives there, and from what he tells me, population has virtually exploded to a grand total of 500 folks.” He opened the door to the diner and waved them in.
As they entered, a man at the counter waved to them. “Howdy an’ welcome t’ the Ellingt’n Diner! Make yerselves at home, sit anywhere ya like.” The three of them chose a booth by the window, and sat, Paul still looking over some paperwork on his tablet while Lyra looked out the window at the town and Lorne checked his email.
A few seconds later, the waitress approached. “Howdy, y’all! Mah name’s Indy. Whut c’n Ah g….” Everyone looked at their waitress, even as she stared, her face somewhere between surprise and anger, back at the three of them.
“Okay, now I know why this place is called Ponyville,” Paul said to the waitress.
The three seated at the table looked at their waitress. She was a pegasus mare, a beautiful deep indigo color, with a lemon yellow mane done in a frizzy manestyle and a tail the same color. Her eyes were a soft cobalt hue, and no one could see her cutie mark, as it was currently covered by her clothing, a sweatshirt and jeans. But those eyes narrowed in anger at the three. “Ah got nuthin’ t’ say t’ you,” she snarled.
However, her companion at the counter caught it instantly. “Hey, Indy? Why dontcha mind th’ till an’ Ah’ll help these people.”
“Help ‘m out th’ damn door, if’n y’ know whut’s right,” the pony hissed as walked towards the counter.
As the man approached, he said sheepishly, “Sorry ‘bout that. Don’ know whut’s gotten inta her.”
“That might be my fault,” Lyra admitted glumly.
“Beg pardon?”
“Sir, my name is Lyra Heartstrings, and I’m the Equestriani ambassador to the US. Across from me is Dr. Lorne Faust, the Assistant Secretary for the Bureau of Alter-Earth Affairs at the US State Department. And lastly, my husband, Paul Phillips; Paul’s a legal partner for Lincoln, Lincoln & Phillips, a law firm in Washington DC.”
“Wow, VIPs. Anyway, Ah’m Jesse Stiles, owner o’ th’ Diner. Ah’m guessin’ yer here t’ talk t’ Indy.”
“Well, we were hoping to talk to the mayor of the town, first. Maybe he or she would be useful in talking to the ponies that live here—”
“Sentenced here,” Jesse countered, not unkindly. “Many o’ them see it as a prison without walls.”
“They had the option to live anywhere in the United States that they chose,” Lorne commented. “They all chose to come here to Ellington – or Ponyville, as it seems to be now called.”
Jesse nodded. “Yup, w’ changed th’ name ‘bout eight years ago, Ah reckon. Did it t’ show them they’re not alone.”
Lyra felt a pang of guilt at that. “Equestria has never abandoned them,” she said; even as the words rolled off the tongue, she knew it was a lie.
So did he. “Tell some’n else Ah’ll believe, lady, ‘cause that ain’t it. But anyway, yer food. Whut’ll ya have?” The three quickly gave their orders: Paul, the roast chicken platter; Lorne, a club sandwich; and Lyra, a hayball sandwich – it had been a while since she’d had Equestriani cuisine, which was pretty much the same as human food, only tailored for ponies.
The trio went back to what they were doing earlier for several minutes, but Paul caught his wife’s forlorn look, reflected in the glass of the window. “Hon, this wasn’t your fault. If anything I’m to blame. I’m the one who represented them in the legal case here on Earth.” He placed his hand on her hoof, giving it a soft squeeze. “You were just the intermediary in all this.”
“Yes, but as ambassador, it’s my job to protect my people, not just the interests of the Crown,” she said, “and I feel that I’ve let them down.”
“Damn rightcha did,” Indy said as she came back to the table with their orders. “An’ look, Ah didn’t mean t’ blame y’ specific’ly, Ambassad’r. Ah just…why us? Ah culd unnerstand th’ ones that did th’ deed, but…the whole cohort? Ah did nuthin’ wrong! Ah wus never there! An’ yet here Ah am, servin’ out a sentence Ah did nuthin’ wrong fer!”
Guilt tore into Lyra’s heart as though she’d been shot. “Indy…I don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry.”
A sudden look came on Lorne’s face. “Lyra, why do I get the feeling I’m not being told the whole story?”
She sighed. “Lorne, you obviously know about the whole situation regarding the Foalnapping Affair and the subsequent criminal trial, correct?”
“Yes. A hundred or so members of the then-Royal Guard were found guilty of attempted rape and kidnapping DJ Martinez, attacking her family and attempted trespass. Since your government disavowed the whole thing and gave us everything the Department of Justice and State of Virginia needed to convict the attackers, they spent five to ten years in jail. Once that happened, handling of the whole situation moved from State to DOJ.”
“Well, then you may not know about the rest. Under Crown law, the lawbreakers were also convicted in a court of law, and our jury issued the maximum punishment allowable: exile from Equestria, never to return again. When we found out about the convictions in the American court system, the Crown discussed with DOJ as to what needed to be done next; they in turn petitioned the states for settlements and only Missouri stepped up to the plate. Thus, in return for an annual payment – about $12 million – from the Crown to the US Government, part of which goes to Missouri, once the convicts served their sentence in court, they were allowed to resettle here.”
Lorne suddenly became livid. “And when were you going to tell me this, Lyra?”
“Lorne, you’re finding out today…which was a week after I found out! These ponies have been here for fifteen years and I didn’t know about it! This was all done behind my back and yours!” Lyra shot back. “Why the hell do you think I feel like crap? Because in the nearly two decades that I’ve been doing this job, I just found out, and by a pure stroke of luck!”
“Y’ whut?” Indy said, shocked.
Lyra looked at her. “Who are you?”
“Mah…mah na….” She paused as if to cough, and in a second the fragile waitress went away as she drew upon who she was. Eyes went steely, posture went military straight and accent went away. “Guardspony Indigo Horizon, 37th Combined Guard Cohort, ma’am.” She then seemed to deflate as she returned back to her prior self. “At least, that’s who an’ whut Ah usedta be. Now? Just a waitress an’ a wife.”
“Best wife Ah’ve e’er had,” Jesse called from the counter.
“Only wife y’ve e’er had, I reckon,” she teased back.
“Wait…you two are married?”
She nodded. “Bin t’gether nearly fifteen years now.”
“But…that would mean….” Paul had a bemused look on his face. “And here I thought Lyra and I were the first human/non-human marriage.”
“Y’are,” Indy assured him. “Jesse an’ Ah’re not really married, but we’re t’gether fer life. Commun law marriage, Ah think th’ term is.”
“Just didn’t feel like tying the knot?”
She shook her head. “He an’ Ah would love nuthin’ more than t’ do so. But, y’ see, there’s a mite bit o’ a problem.
“Ah don’t exist.”
The food had grown cold as Lyra told the story. As they were the only customers in the restaurant due to the rain, Jesse and Indy had joined them at the table to hear everything.
“It started about a month ago when the Ministry of Finance noticed a bunch of unaccounted payments going towards the Ministry of Defense. As his highness Prince Jackas…I mean, Prince Blueblood, was going through and cutting some of the fat out of the Crown’s budget, he noted that absolutely none of those unaccounted funds were unaccounted for in Defense’s budget either.”
“A black budget?” Lorne answered.
“What’s a black budget?” Paul asked.
“It’s a term for a budget for the heavily classified stuff the military does,” Lyra responded. “If you don’t want the public to know about what you’re doing, you pay for it out of the black budget. Some countries even go so far as to not even admit they have a black budget. But here’s the thing: in Equestria, black budgets are against the law. Anything that goes dark has to come out of the Special Operations budget, whether it’s Destrier training, Courser weapons or Seapony attack boats. But based on analysis, the money wasn’t going there, either. It was going into some kind of black budget.
“So Finance had the Mage Guild conduct an investigation. What we found out was rather…disturbing. The money was being sent to the Defense Ministry, and then to the Royal Equestriani Army. From there, the REA was funneling the money to the modern Equestriani Royal Guard, the ones in charge of protecting the Royal Family, the palace, etc. However, as they are the only remnant of the original Guard pre-modernization, they’ve also been tasked with handling legacy issues from those days…and that’s where the money is going.
“Indy…Corporal, if I may,” Lyra said, “It may interest you to know that the Crown now knows your unit has been smoozed.”
“Smoozed?” all three humans said.
“Smooze…it’s hard to explain, really,” Lyra said. “It’s a sort of alchemical residue that if left unchecked, grows out of control, kinda like that old Blob movie we were watching the other night, Paul. Because of that, mages make getting rid of any smooze their number one priority.”
“So what smoozin’ means t’ th’ Guard is t’ get rid o’ problem units,” Indy said, sadly.
“So…a ghost regiment,” Lorne commented. “Before I started working at State, I was briefly working for the Army at the Pentagon. The military had discovered a couple of ghost regiments that were assigned to protect the remains of bases that had been disestablished ages ago. The regiments were filled with undesirables that were of no use to the Army but too problematic to get rid of, so someone in the Army sent them to rot somewhere. In one case, a ghost regiment was assigned to the old Fort Jefferson in the Dry Tortugas National Park down in Florida, with no other purpose than to just guard the old standing masonry walls of a garrison that’s been decommissioned for over a century. We eventually got rid of the ghost regiment, but it left a bad taste in my mouth, so I jumped ship to State first chance I got.”
“So, the 37th Combined Cohort no longer exists officially, and it’s been ghost regimented to this town?” Paul asked.
“Worse than that, hon. The ponies of the 37th no longer officially exist either, and guilty or not, they’ve all been exiled here,” Lyra added.
“But…‘ts not fair! Ah wus with th’ 37th for just a week th’ incident happened an’ now we’re moved here an’ Ah c’n never go back? Ah want mah family t’ know about me an’ Jesse! Ah want t’ visit them agin!” Indy looked completely heartbroken. “D’ they ev’n know Ah’m still alive?”
“Do you know why you’re here?” Lyra asked. “It would help me to get the Mage Guild to start a criminal investigation.”
“Because we know too much.” Everyone turned their heads, and found a black pegasus standing at the door, leaning against the frame. He was wearing a plaid shirt and jeans, and had a beaten-up backwards baseball cap.
“Oh, heya, Jim,” Jesse said, waving to the black pony sitting in the door.
“Heya, Jesse – oh, before I forget: we’re getting the new Studebaker MUV-Rs in next week, since you wanted to replace Indy’s car.”
“Thanks.”
Lyra looked at the pony and recognized him, knowing him by a different name. “Sergeant Roughwind, I presume?”
“I was, once. Not anymore. Now I’m James Roughwind, owner of the local car dealership. Yeah, I went native, but what choice did I have? I’m a convicted felon here and home, and a mannulus non grata back there. There, I don’t exist – even my family there’s disowned me. Here? I can have a life, even if it isn’t the one I had. Did you know once somepony is exiled from Equestria, they no longer legally exist? My wife was suddenly divorced…scratch that, always single and had a home and all the bits in the bank that were suddenly now inexplicably hers, provided she never bothered with me again – hell of a way to end a relationship. Me? Nothing other than an end-of-incarceration check from the US Government after my sentence was done.
“I served my time in a human prison – first Red Onion State in Virginia, then Potosi Correctional here in Missouri. I know there’s nothing for me back in Equestria. I was assigned a mission and I got ‘creative’ and it got screwed up in the worst possible way. I’ve spent every day of my life haunted by the fact that Darkstreak got killed trying to pull that filly off the tree she was holding. I hate myself for not recognizing human clothing, since the others were wearing them. I’ve spent every day of my life since obsessing over all the mistakes I made and hoping that I can make up for it. I would like nothing more than to apologize to Sandalwood someday for whatever I did to her and her human family.”
“I can arrange that. DJ is a personal friend of mine and speaking off the record, I’d very much appreciate it if you did.”
“If you can arrange it, I’ll be there,” he said solemnly. “But as I was saying here, I had a chance to start life anew here in Ellington – now Ponyville – and I took it. Married one of the mares in the 37th, and we’re hoping to have a foal soon. My fellow convicts, we’ve all paid our dues and started life anew here. But the rest of the 37th? They’re innocent. Take Indy here. She came to the unit day my strike team arrived here on this Earth, so do you know what that means? It means as far as the operation went, she only knew two things: jack and shit. Fine, sentence our centuria, all one hundred of us ponies to exile. But the whole cohort, getting smoozed? And they did it because potentially somepony outside my centuria knew? That just ain’t right.”
“I see. Well, I needed to talk to your mayor anyw—”
Roughwind grinned. “You’re lookin’ at him. In fact, welcome to Temporary Town Hall. Since we’re renovating the actual building, I’ve been using the corner over there—” he pointed to a roped off portion of the diner, “—as my unofficial public office. And since Jesse’s on the town council, he doesn’t have the luxury of missing a meeting.” He moved to where they were sitting, grabbed a chair from a nearby table and said, “So if you’re here just to give us a sob story about why you can’t help us, I hope you enjoy your preferably very short visit. If not, please say your title is for than just your personality.”
“Then you’re in luck, Mr. Roughwind,” Lyra said. “That’s what we’re here for. You remember my husband, Paul, correct?”
Roughwind, after all the years, hadn’t forgotten. “You were in bed with our lawyer? Literally? Looks like we weren’t the only ones who got screwed.”
“Lyra recused herself at any step of the case, and most of it was over by the time she and I got involved,” Paul responded. “If you have any issue with that, then take it up with me.”
“Look, I enjoy two males fighting over me as much as the next mare, but one, I’m already married; and two, that’s not the point. The point is that I am here, on behalf of the Crown, to bring back those who desire to return.”
“And that ones that don’t are screwed?”
At that point, Lyra wished she could have somehow picked up her friend Fluttershy’s infamous Stare; it might let her get in a word edgewise with this mistrusting stallion. “The ones that don’t…we’ll work with the State Department to see about getting them fully immigrated, complete with green cards.”
“And the price is me telling you about who ordered the Foalnapping?” Roughwind snarled.
“Nope. The price is you telling Archmagus Twilight Sparkle about who ordered the Foalnapping.”
His black coat seemed to shift to pale gray as he blanched. “Are you nuts? The Bearer of Magic? Head of the Mage Guild? Duchess Shetland? The freakin’ younger sister of Prince Shining Armor, sister-in-law to Princess Cadance and personal protégé to Princess Celestia? And you want me to tell her?”
Lyra crossed her arms, giving Roughwind a full glare. “Yes.”
“You’re clearly in a destructive mood today. There was a reason the entire 37th got smoozed, you realize! It’s more than just the error me and my team made – this is something that could shake the Solar and Lunar Thrones at their core!”
“Would you rather talk to someone higher?”
Roughwind was about to say something when Indy spoke up. “Jim! This is a chance fer those that wanna go home t’ get home! An’ Ah wanna contribute, even if’n Ah’m stayin’ here! Y’ know th’ sheriff’s been tryin’ t’ get us!”
“Trying to get you? Are you in some sort of legal trouble?” Lyra asked.
“No, not like that,” Roughwind explained. “The State of Missouri has had endemic problems with poaching and the like over the years. The sheriff’s department and other police agencies in the general area know that all of our people are trained in police duty, so for years they’ve been relying on us for backup. They’ve even tried hiring outright, but with so many in legal limbo, like Indy here, we can’t be of help the way we want to or they’d like us to.” Roughwind looked at Indy. “I’m sorry but I….” He trailed off.
Her eyes, her heart, they showed nothing but pain. For years, she’d always stood up for when others in the 37th blamed him, Hairpin Turn, Rolling Thunder or any of the assault team for their troubles. And she tried so hard to fit in, to try to make a life for herself when she knew she wouldn’t be able to return home. But now here was a chance…and he was turning it down because of an outdated loyalty to a government that clearly no longer cared about what the fate of their vanished ponies were.
“Fine,” he sighed. “I’ll talk. But my condition is that you get these ponies help: a trip home for those who want it or legal status for those who want to stay here. That’s my condition. It’s too late to help me and the rest of us convicts, but not for the others.”
Paul nodded. “I know someone who can help us; he’s an immigration lawyer, interned for us at the firm. I think he might be able to give us a hand or at least point us in the right direction. Just let us know who’s who.”
Roughwind shook his head. “I can’t tell you who’s who; I’m just the mayor of the town, not the spokespony for the exiles here. There really isn’t one. I’m guessing those who have kids will want to stay; the majority will want to go back.”
“Okay, let me make some calls then, and I’ll see what I can do. I can’t promise anything for those who want to stay, but I will do everything I can to ensure that those who wish to go home can and will go home.”
“That’s all I can ask for,” Roughwind said, offering Lyra a hoof. Lyra in turn connected and shook.
“Well, that was certainly an interesting experience,” Lorne told Lyra as the three had dinner in St. Louis. Paul had tuned out most of the conversation, as he was currently working on trying to get in touch with the immigration lawyer he had in mind.
“And that’s why I needed you here, Lorne. I remember you telling me that you have no idea on what you want to do when you retire, only that you’ll be bored as hell and you don’t plan to stay in the Metro area.”
“No,” he shook his head. “My days in DC are done, Lyra. No interest in being dragged back for emergency sessions in Budapest because someone sneezed incorrectly and someone else took it as a pretext of declaring war. But I still don’t see how I—”
“These people!” Lyra waved. “These ponies need someone here who can and will speak for them. You’ve been Assistant Secretary for AE Affairs, so you know us – you know me! Just like I’m the supposed expert on your people, you’re the resident expert on us. These ponies, especially the ones that will be staying, will need someone strong, brave and trustworthy to be on their side.”
“Lyra, this is the 2040s. No one’s writing Jim Crow laws towards ponies.”
“You’re missing the point: no one needs to. If I recall some of the history of what you’ve told me, prior to the 2029 DREAM Act, no one was really writing laws against Hispanics legally in this country but it made them nervous. Hell, the President of the United States was Hispanic at the time and people still freaked out – if we ponies hadn’t shown up to be the resident distrusted flavor of the decade, it would have still been that way.”
“No one distrusts—”
“Let me see if I can recall some of the specist slurs made about ponies.” She paused before saying, “Kickstands. Tugs. Geldos. Roadshitters. Cathyfuckers – I don’t even know what that means.”
“Okay, I get the point: your people are still distrusted in some circles, but what can I do?”
“What you’ve been doing all along – be a voice for the Alter-Earth species. The only difference is, instead of doing it from Foggy Bottom, you’ll be doing it from the trenches. Living amongst them.”
Lorne was taken aback. “You want me to live in Ponyville?”
“Well, let me guess: you were thinking of going back to the hustle and bustle of metropolitan Arthur, weren’t you?”
“Well, let me talk to Cree and see what she says – my wife has been against moving to Arthur as well, and truth be told, I’d probably be just as bored there.”
“Let me put this out for you,” she said, waving her arms out expansively. “Mayor Faust.”
Now he looked at her as if she was joking. “Lyra I seriously doubt—”
“Trust me: once they find out you’re moving there and with your reputation amongst ponies? You’ll have to pick out a new chair for your mayoral office before you can even start thinking of campaign platforms.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
He nodded, smiling briefly. “Well, if you insist, I’ll consider it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to pay the bill so I can justify this being a business trip, and then I’m going up to my room to get some sleep. We might be the same age, Lyra, but you definitely age better than I do.”
“All a part of being a unicorn, I guess,” she said pleasantly. “See you in the morning.”
As he departed, Paul looked at his wife. “Okay, so when did you become a bullshit artist?”
She grinned. “How long have we been together now, counselor?”
“Touché. Anyways, I just spoke to the McAllister campaign. They’ll plan it out and send that immigration lawyer. His name’s Carlos Salazar, by the way.”
Lyra blinked for a second. “That name sounds awfully familiar.”
“It should: he’s one of DJ’s childhood friends and was in Equestria for the trial. He apparently went into law specifically so people like her or him – he got his citizenship through the DREAM Act – wouldn’t have to deal with that crap again. I’ll be meeting with him first thing Monday morning; bit out of my scope, but don’t I think Abe and Mary will mind.”
She leaned forward onto his shoulder, flashing him bedroom eyes. “You do know that you’re so sexy when you pull strings for me, right?”
He grinned knowingly. “I’m guessing we’re not getting much sleep tonight, are we?”
She kissed him, whispering, “Well, you know me, love – a mare’s work is never done.” She then backed off, went back into business mode and commented, “And now I have to call Twilight.”
“You’re such a tease, you know that?”
“And I thought that’s what you loved about me?” Quickly calling Twilight’s office number, she was somehow not surprised to hear her old friend burning the near-midnight oil. “Twi, there is a thing called home. You should use it more often.”
“You know me, Lyra,” the mare said in a bemused tone, “I’m not happy unless I’m in overkill mode.”
“I know. But I’ve got big news for you: you remember Roughwind from the Foalnapping case?”
“Lyra, we’re old friends, right? Let me spell something out to you, just because we’re old friends. If you ever bring that bucker’s name up again, it had better well be a good reason.”
“Easy, Twi. Well, he’s ready to talk. About who was behind him.”
“Really? No prancing?”
“Seriously. It’s tied into the 37th being smoozed out here to Missouri, and he’s willing to talk on the condition we repatriate those who want it or get full immigrant status for those who want to stay. Paul’s working the US angle, I’ll talk to our folks at the Ministry of Justice, but I’ll need you to get a team available to talk to him.”
“I can get a team together by tomorrow morning. Let me get a hold of some of our contacts in the FBI as well, since it’s technically their ballgame.”
“Give me about a week to work my magic and then we can do this.”
“You have no idea how much I appreciate this, Lyra.”
“Hey, DJ’s a friend of mine as well, so I’d like to see this solved. And I owe you anyway for the revised amniomorphic.”
“Anything else?”
“Nope, other than I’m going to drag my husband up to the hotel room for some wild s—”
Twilight laughed. “I don’t need those details, Lyra.”
“I know. Talk to you later. Bye!” She looked at him. “So, ninety minutes to digest food, maybe watch a crappy pay-per-view movie in the meanwhile and….” She leaned forward, kissing him. “I think you can figure the rest out.”
“I swear, Lyra, sometimes you play me like an instrument.”
In turn, she patted her flank, giggling. “It’s all in the cutie mark, sweetie. All in the cutie mark.”
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My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
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I'm impressed by all these awesome stories you're pulling from the universe created by one (albeit 20,000 word) story. Keep writing!
(Oh, and I'll guess it was Luna.)
*claps till hand bleeds*
keep it up sir
"Hey DJ. I'm the guy who attacked your family and traumatized you by stripping you naked in front of the whole neighborhood. We cool?"
Sweet. My home state is now number one for ponies. I hope this place gets a future that good. Right now we're only number one for meth. And sometimes racism. I wonder if Ponyville, MO has any problems with either of those. If we're getting our own ponyville in the future then maybe I won't move to another state like I've been planning.
Love these stories. They're all tied together but still very different. I'd love to hear a bit about life for a young pony born and raised by pony parents in not so pony lands. Even without most of the problems DJ had what would it be like? I'm also surprised with how humanized the ponies in these stories act. The unicorns don't even bother with their magic when they got this hoofspace thing going on, and the pegasi always seem more grounded. I wonder what air traffic laws would be enacted in our world with the introduction of a flying race.
As happy as I am to see my hometown of St. Louis pop up in this story, it's 3:30 in the morning .
Why is your series so addicting?
Doesn't the main story say that it was ordered by everyone's favourite technicolour pegasus?
If so, then we can definitely say "Foregone conclusion"
740921
Probably because they go native really quick as well as know that magic pretty much doesn't exist on this Earth, so there's an ambient fear of "using one's natural reservoir up." Developing hoofspace (not a major concern before) equalizes all three subspecies, when they were too lazy or disinclined to do so before. And I'm sure there are flight restrictions for pegasi (e.g. would have to get an FAA general aviation license) for anything above 5000 feet.
741410
Maybe, but even Rainbow doesn't have the authority to make 1000 ponies vanish. That's someone above her paygrade (at the time of the initial smoozing.)
741444
Oh, right. She authorised the "rescue mission", not the actual smoozing.
Hang on. If RD didn't smooze 1000 ponies, then who did? Did she take the blame so someone else wouldn't?
Ouch, having your life erased is harsh. DJ was exiled but was not erased, somepony must be playing something behind the scenes.
Come to think of it, I'm surprised that RD didn't getting prison time or exile since she was the one who ordered the op in the first place. Being the Element of Loyalty grants some amount of immunity I guess.
I'd immediately say it was Blueblood who did the smoozing, but since he's the one who inadvertently found out about it in the first place that would only mean he's pointing the authorities on his own trail.
Of course, it was never established how MUCH control Rainbow had over the Flying division of the Royal guard (assuming she is a Wonderbolt at this time, and in Secret of my Excess the Wonderbolts seemed to function like an independent, if absolutely useless, air force of their own), and since Cadance seems to imply Shining Armor is still alive two years after the ponies would have been Smoozed (during the early parts of "The Busker" when asked about her marriage status), it has not yet been discussed how much control the Guard captain had over the Wonderbolts, either.
742294
She got kicked from the Wonderbolts along with Scoots. It's a punishment worse than prison, for them anyway.
741958
DJ wasn't really exiled; it was an excuse Celestia used to send her back where she belonged. Note that Celestia immediately repealed it on DJ's 18th birthday.
742294
There's a reason why.
744038
Yup. To be removed in disgrace from the unit you've spent your life working to be on (and maybe someday lead), that's a huge blow. Doesn't matter if the rest of your career afterwards is stellar, everypony's going to remember you were one of the few who got kicked off the Wonderbolts.
I really like the Cathyfucker line. I can see why Lyra would be confused by a reference to Catherine the Great's apocryphal liasons, but this is just a sign that Lyra needs to read more history.
Wouldn't the rape charges have been dropped since it was clear that the guards thought that DJ was being imprisoned in those clothes?
Prince Blueblood doing his job.
Huh. I was sure he spent his entire life belittling other ponies, feeling self-entitled, and forcing people to wait on him.
I'm going to pretend he's covering for his own embezzling.
First chapter of this section and things are falling into place. Too easily. Let's see how things go horribly wrong.
744109
This must have been a pre-rewrite post. Exile sending the wrong message indeed.