Chapter 6: Triviality
Chapter 6: Triviality
Golden Sword stared around the library, glaring at each human in turn. “You will tell me!” he shouted.
“Oh stick it up your ass. We didn't do anything to your precious princesses, so lay off, ya prick.” Greubel brought his best glare up to compete with the iron faced stallion.
“Back down, Greubel.” Taylor stated. “They said we needed to stay here till they got back or something like that,” he said to the fuming guard captain. “I wasn’t paying too much attention.”
Sword dropped his aggressive posture, but retained his wary expression. “I see.” The remainder of the ponies continued to trickle back into the library. “I suppose that she also—”
Golden Sword was interrupted by a flash of green flame, the sound of a burp, and all of the human soldiers taking cover behind various objects. “What the fuck was that?” Stivers shouted.
“Flamethrower?” Taylor hazarded, peeking around the chair he hid behind.
Captain Sword looked at the humans with bemused confusion etching across his face. “That... was dragonfire. You know, a way to instantly transport messages across great distances?”
Stivers looked out from under his table, and surely enough, the baby dragon was lying on the ground grasping his stomach, with a letter floating in the air before Twilight. “But... that’s not possible...” Stivers mumbled.
Gallivan left his hiding spot beside a shelf, “Really sir? Instant communication is the thing that you find most confusing about this place?”
Stivers felt heat rising to his face. “Er... I mean... Why—”
“Hey listen!” Twilight shouted, “I got a letter from the princess.”
“Well that was fast... I mean... she just left and all...” Taylor’s face was contorted in confusion.
Ignoring Taylor, Twilight began reading the letter aloud. “‘My most faithful student, I had urgent business to take care of in Canterlot—’”
“Urgent business my ass!” Greubel interrupted. “She just didn’t like how we whooped her ass in conversation!”
“Ahem,” Twilight cleared her throat violently, as if to say, We’re all still in the room. “May I continue?” Stivers nodded an affirmative. “Fine then.” Irritation was evident in her voice as she resumed reading the letter. “Urgent business, blah blah blah, stuff you would mock us about, and, aha.” She scrunched up her eyes in concentration before letting out the most inelegant expletive of surprise any of the soldiers had ever heard.
“That... was...” Taylor began, but even his wit failed him at the moment. “Well, it definitely was.”
“The princess,” Twilight began again, only to falter a second time. “She says that you are free to, and I quote: ‘wander around Ponyville’ until she has found the ritual you need to get back...”
“What?” Stivers, Taylor, and Sword all shouted at once, simultaneously slapping a hand, and in Sword’s case, a forehoof, to their faces.
Greubel and Midnight Arrow laughed. “What a total balls-up,” the Marine opined.
“So,” Stivers’ puzzled expression betrayed the motif of his question. “She expects us to just meander around your quaint little village, unsupervised, and not do anything bad? After, of course, she captured us for absolutely no reason.”
“Umm... I guess so.” Twilight looked just as lost as Stivers.
“I refuse to let you go around unguarded amongst the citizens of Ponyville,” Golden Sword stated. “If it wasn’t a direct order from Celestia, you wouldn’t even be leaving this library.”
Midnight cleared her throat and took a few steps toward the group. “Erm, it was actually rather indirect, don’t you think Captain? I mean... it was directed from a letter...”
“Regardless, Captain, you and your guards are dismissed from my library.” Twilight flushed as she came to the realization that the princess had blown her off. “And you humans,” she said, her voice rising angrily, “get out, too.” The horn on her forehead glowed a bright violet, and with a sudden flash, all of the room's occupants, minus the bearers of the Elements, found themselves outside.
“Huh. Now what?” Stivers asked as the door to the library shut behind them, leaving only four humans, and five armoured pegasi looking about in confusion.
“Well, now we—” The Captain narrowed his eyes as a mint green unicorn interrupted him.
“Oh... My... Celestia! What are those?” She galloped to the humans, eyes wide in wonder, oblivious to the glare turned her way as the captain turned to block her advance.
“Not so fast citizen, This is property of the Royal Guard of—” The captain’s explanation didn’t get very far as he was abruptly knocked over by Gallivan. The Marine sergeant stood over him, his expression livid, his fists bunched up in tight knots.
“We are not your property!” Gallivan yelled through clenched teeth at the stunned pony before him. “Don’t even think about—”
Shadow took the opportunity to jump on Gallivan, knocking him away from Sword, while Crimson Hoof took up a defensive position near his commander.
Taylor and Stivers grabbed the pony atop their friend by his armoured collar and hauled him off. “Everyone just calm the fuck down!” Taylor shouted. Stivers still held the struggling guard while Taylor eyed Gallivan closely. “What the hell was that?”
“I am no one's property.” His voice hardened as he stared at Golden Sword, then at Shadow. “I am a legal citizen of the United States of America, which is a free land.” His voice rose to a shout. “And I am no one’s slave!” He spun on his heel and started walking away towards a small apple orchard in the distance.
Midnight Arrow flew in front of the Marine, a concerned look in her eyes. “We would never presume to own somepo... er, someone.” Gallivan simply stalked past the well-meaning pegasus without a reply, his hands balled up tightly into fists, the tendons in his neck standing out in high relief as he fought to suppress a response. She turned to follow his movement, looking at him unhappily. “Sir, please stop. If you don’t stop, I will detain you. I want to be nice, though.”
Gallivan stopped, took three deep breaths, and turned to face the gold clad stallion who was still getting to his hooves. “You will never own me,” he stated, pointing a finger at Sword. Beside them, the amber eyed unicorn who had set everything off now stood forgotten for the moment, staring at Gallivan in awe while apparently oblivious to the conversation around her.
Behind the raving Gallivan, stood a crowd of ponies who had been minding their own business until the humans were thrown from the library. Stivers released Shadow as Sword moved to address the crowd. “Return to your business, everypony. There is nothing to see here.”
Nopony moved.
“This is a matter of the Royal Guard of Canterlot. You will vacate the premises immediately or be incarcerated under royal law.” The various ponies scattered, going out of their way to look busy while still remaining in earshot of the strange creatures.
The mint-colored unicorn still stared at them in utter fascination, not moving from where she stood.
Gallivan glanced at her; the mare was almost close enough to him to qualify as a fashion accessory. “You heard the Captain, piss off,” he hissed, his face hardening again.
“All right Gallivan,” Stivers said, anger in his voice. “Stow that shit. What the hell is wrong with you? I have never seen you act so outright... hostile. Ever!”
Gallivan turned away from the nonplussed unicorn, looking Stivers in the eyes. The sergeant said nothing, but the mute expression in his eyes was clearly begging his commander to change the subject.
Sighing, Stivers complied, glancing over at Captain Sword. “So, what do we do while we wait?”
The Captain's eyes lit up in surprise. “What do you mean, do?”
“You know...” Stivers replied. “Around here? We're here till the Queen says we can go... right?”
“Princess. And yes. I guess you are...” Sword looked around at his assorted guards. He was left with Shining Star, Midnight Arrow, Shadow, and Crimson Hoof. “Where are the rest of my troops, Lieutenant?”
“Erm...” The pegasus floundered for a moment. “I... The Princess told me to dismiss them. She gave me a letter and everything!” she added, seeing her commander’s withering gaze.
“Give me that letter, Arrow.” Sword’s order was flat and toneless, giving away nothing.
Shakily, she retrieved the letter from a saddlebag on her armour.
As Golden Sword read over the letter, Taylor was looking at the saddle bag in complete confusion. “How do you do that?” he asked dumbly.
“Do what?” she shot back. Her commander had never, ever addressed her in such a tone of displeasure before, and Midnight was quite flustered.
“Live with having to reach over your back whenever you need anything. I mean really... that has to be inconvenient.”
Midnight looked at Taylor quizzically. “Well, I’ve been a pegasus pony all of my life, so... I guess I’m just used to it?”
“Huh.” Taylor scuffed at the dirt with one boot and put his hands in his pockets. So... what’s it like having wings, anyway?”
Stivers noted the two lieutenants chatting, and looked back to Sword, who was now looking at the letter in shock. “Well?” the Marine asked.
“It says that we’re to escort you all around town, so you can get a feel for ‘the environment.’” Sword dropped the letter and stared past Stivers at nothing in particular. “This assignment is ridiculous.”
“You’re telling me.” Stivers mumbled.
Sword glared at Stivers, then looked quickly amongst his squad. Arrow was talking with Taylor, both Hoof and Star were watching over the brooding Gallivan, and Shadow was chatting with Greubel; the two had scuffed a tic-tac-toe square in the dirt and were rapidly working their way to a tie game.
“Guards!” Sword shouted, all conversation ceasing as both ponies and humans looked to him attentively. “You all seem to have already found a buddy, so go and show them around the town, as per the Princess’ orders.”
“Sir, is that such a good idea?” Star said, looking at Gallivan uneasily.
“Not in the slightest.” Sword replied ominously. “But the Princesses have never failed us before so we shall... trust them again.” The last of his words had lost his earlier passion, and he let out a loud sigh of annoyance.
“Well that was unexpected.” Taylor said, realizing it was not himself that was being addressed. “Maybe we can get some food. I’m starving,” he said, patting his stomach.
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“So...” Private Star began. “What do we do now?”
“Um... I guess we let him do what he wants?” Corporal Hoof shrugged.
“So...” Star turned toward the human. “What do you want to do, then?”
Gallivan stared blankly at the pair of pegasi, he turned and again started walking towards the apple farm that stood off in the distance.
“I guess we go to Sweet Apple Acres then?” Hoof inquired, trotting beside Star. Both pegasi kept a wary eye on the visitor, whom continued to ignore them.
After a few minutes of silent walking, Hoof cantered forward to catch up with Gallivan. “So big guy, how’s your day going?” Gallivan stopped.
“What?” he asked, staring at Hoof in complete and utter disbelief at what he had just been asked.
“You know... how have you been?” Corporal Hoof asked sincerely. Private Star put a hoof to his own forehead and groaned.
“You... but...” Gallivan stuttered, still confused.
“But I...? Finish your sentence.” The Corporal said slowly, as if talking to a child.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Gallivan deadpanned.
Private Star moved to catch up, interest perked, “What’s ‘fucking’?”
"Are you simple or somethin’?" Gallivan retorted, looking at both guards for a moment. "Please don't make me explain this," he sighed. "Didn't your parents ever explain where little ponies come from?"
Star paused, then reddened and then placed a forehoof to his brow again, shaking his head. "Oh. Um... okay."
Hoof blinked, momentarily nonplussed. "What does that have to do with me kidding you? Which I wasn't, by the way."
Gallivan gave him a long look. “You don’t get out of the guardhouse much, do you?”
Star snickered, then clammed up as the corporal gave him a dirty look. “Ahem. As I was saying...”
“How was my day? Aside from being arrested, threatened, beaten, and generally not having a great time? Pretty fu— um, pretty darned low.”
Corporal Hoof shrugged uncomfortably. “Sorry about that... orders, you know.”
Gallivan stopped for a moment, stretching, his spine making muted popping sounds. “On that, I can agree with you, short stuff. Orders... the source of most of the problems in my life.”
“What’s your army like?” Star asked eagerly. The concept of this foreigner’s military excited him.
To the guards' surprise, Gallivan burst out laughing, a cheery, hearty sound neither pony had expected to hear from the tall human. After a moment, he straightened, wiping his eyes. "The army’s pretty sorry in my opinion, but I'll admit, I'm prejudiced. I'm a Marine, not a doggie."
“What’s a ‘Marine?’” asked Star.
“Marines do what the army does, but more and better,” Gallivan replied smoothly. This was a question he had fielded many times while on liberty, and the pride in his voice was evident to both his listeners. “We’re assault troops. We take the names, kick the butt, and move on to the next target.”
“Sounds like you’ve seen quite a bit of action, sir,” Corporal Hoof said respectfully.
Gallivan came to a total standstill. “Listen here, fella,” he said in a tight, clipped voice. “If we’re going to get along, here, you need to remember to never, ever call me ‘sir’ again. I’m a sergeant, not some dumbshit officer who thinks he knows everything.”
“Got it, Sarge,” Star replied. Both of the guards exchanged a somewhat relieved look. This was a soldier from the ranks: somebody they could understand, at least, and not some pompous ass who would demand everything brought to him on a silver platter.
“Anyway, yeah, I’ve been there and done that a few times.” Gallivan resumed his slow, even pace, the two guard ponies falling in unconsciously on either side of him and matching his stride. “I will say this though, this is a hell of a nice place you folks live in.” The Marine turned his head to watch a flight of birds swoop past them, flitting from tree to tree. “Do you live here? In this town, I mean?”
“No, we live and work in the capital of Canterlot, at the Royal Court.” Corporal Hoof took note of how adroitly the tall figure had dodged his question about battle experience, and decided not to pursue the matter. Hoof had asked the question out of politeness only; the guard had seen a skirmish or two himself, and he wasn’t much inclined to chat about the experience to somepony he’d just met, either. The three meandered off the main path, cutting through a low field toward a farm several hundred yards away. “The town itself is named Ponyville, and we’re familiar with some of the residents, but that’s about it.”
Gallivan frowned. “Canterlot?” The name sounded vaguely familiar, for some absurd reason. “So this is just a temporary duty station, huh?”
“Oh, you have those, too?” Star was delighted once again. “I got stationed in Fillydelphia once, and there was this one mare...”
Corporal Hoof groaned. “Oh Celestia, not this story again.”
Star offered a wounded expression, and Gallivan motioned to continue. This sounded like it had the makings of a good sea story, after all. The three continued walking slowly, passing under the shade of a large apple tree at the edge of an orchard.
“Anyway, I was on leave, and trying to ask for directions, and there was this one mare, oh, you should have seen the mane she had! Well, I walked up to her, trying to look all young and pitiful—”
“Star, you are young. And pitiful,” Hoof interrupted.
The other guard began a retort, but their conversation was abruptly cut off by a screech that set the teeth on edge. “What in tarnation are y’all doin in my apple orchard?” The three looked over to see a small, green pony of advanced age glaring at them openly. “Helllp! Thieves! Thieves in th’ apples!”
Corporal Hoof stepped forward. “No ma’am, we’re not thieves, honest!”
The sound of heavy hoofbeats approaching filled the air, and a reddish pony, much larger than any of the others Gallivan had yet seen appeared, trotting up to stand next to the oldster who still stood staring at them, her expression dubious at best. “Well who are ye, then? Speak up, now!”
The red pony offered them an equally stern expression. “Eeyup,” he offered laconically.
“Well, we, that is, I... um.” Hoof backed up a step, and then glanced helplessly at Gallivan.
“Christ,” the Marine sighed, “sometimes I hate shore leave.”
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Shadow and Gruebel had paired off rather accidentally, and at the Captain’s command they had obligingly wandered off, each holding to the old military maxim that orders were orders, even if they made no damned sense at all. They had wandered aimlessly for several minutes, with Shadow quietly shooing away anypony who ventured too close, but Gruebel made the task more difficult by repeatedly changing direction, seemingly at random.
Several turns and one dead-end alley later, they both came to the realization that they had each been trying to follow the other, both also following the much older maxim that you were never actually lost as long as you didn’t admit to being lost.
“Where are we going?” Shadow finally asked.
Gruebel eyed the familiar-looking intersection ahead with suspicion. “I have no clue, anywhere away from that asshole Sword, or whatever his name is.”
“Captain Golden Sword; and he may be tough, but he’s a great leader” the pegasus said proudly.
“Sure...”
“How about we head over to Carousel Boutique?”
“What's that? A night club?”
“Uh, no.” Shadow stared at him as if he’d gone insane. “It’s a famous fashion shop that sells-”
“Fashion? Hell no,” Gruebel interrupted.
“Oh come on, you're going to need something other than... whatever that is your wearing.”
“It’s a jumpsuit, used by pilots like me.”
“What’s a pilot?” Shadow asked.
Gruebel blinked. “It’s somebody who flies planes.” He stuck his arms out straight and waggled them. “Zoooom, you know?”
“Wait, you things can fly? But I thought only pegasi like me could.”
“We don’t fly like you do, heck, I don’t even know if those wings really work,” Gruebel said, pointing to Shadow’s wings.
“Well, time to prove it.”
Shadow extended his wings and flew straight up into the sky, leaving a cloud of dust behind. He flew around in circles, did a few loops, and finally skirted to a stop in front of Gruebel who stood speechless.
“Well?” Shadow asked.
“Damn, you really can fly,” Gruebel said in amazement. “I thought I was imagining things when I first saw you guys.”
“Thanks, I practice when I can.”
“Heh,” Gruebel chuckled. “So do I... that’s kinda the reason I’m in this mess, I guess. I was on a training flight when... well, when whatever happened to us, happened.”
Shadow was moved by the forlorn tone in the human’s voice. “Don’t worry. If there’s a way to fix everything, the princess will find it. You can trust me on that.”
“Well. We’ll see, I guess.” Gruebel looked down at his companion. “You know, for a flying, talking pony who’s tried to kick my ass more than once over the past twenty-four hours, you're not that bad.”
Shadow digested that one for a moment. “Thanks, I think.”
Gruebel examined the guard’s gleaming armour, and then looked down at his own grubby jumpsuit. “You know what? You're right, I might as well get some new clothes, or at least get this cleaned.” He sniffed and grimaced. “Soon.”
Shadow beamed, inwardly grateful that he didn’t have to bring up the delicate point. “Come on, I saw it from the air. It’s this way.”
Shadow and Gruebel walked for a little bit, turning a corner now and then until they came upon a three story purple and pink building.
“Well” said Grubel. “If it were a nightclub, it would be terrible.”
Shadow snickered at the joke. The two walked through the entrance, with Gruebel ducking carefully to avoid braining himself on the doorjamb. From overhead, a bell jingled, the sound striking Gruebel with a palpable pang of homesickness; in some ways, this place was too close to his own world by half.
A melodious voice floated out to them from a nearby doorway. “Welcome to Carousel boutique, where everythi- oh, it’s that thing!” The white pony with the horn on her forehead and the purple mane stared at Gruebel with obvious disdain. “I don’t have time for a ruffian like you, get out.”
“Please stand down Miss Rarity, he’s with me,” Shadow said.
Gruebel scanned the inside of the building: dresses and fabric were displayed on the walls of the shop, and almost every one of them had gems decorating them, glittering viciously in the sunlight that streamed through the main window.
Probably fake, he thought to himself.
“Ugh, fine, what can I help you with, uhh, what was your name?”
“Private Robert P. Gruebel” he said, sketching off a sloppy salute. “At your service.”
“Right... I’m Rarity, future world-famous fashion designer extraordinare!” she said proudly. “Now what can I help you with?”
“Well since I’m going to stuck here for a while, I thought I needed some new clothes—”
“Yes!” Rarity yelled, leaping forward with measuring tape and fabric. “Ok what would you like? Something flashy? Something classy? Or maybe-”
“Woah, woah, easy now” Gruebel said, stepping away. Shadow who was sitting in a chair, just laughed. “All I need is a simple shirt or two, shorts, and my jumpsuit cleaned.” His eyes wandered back to the precious stones applied liberally to every garment in sight. “Oh, and no fake gems.”
“Fake?” Rarity gasped. “These gems aren't fake,” she said with a touch of wounded pride. “I only use real gems, straight out of the ground.”
“There’s no way those are real. Real gems rarely get bigger than an apple,” Gruebel said, using his hands to illustrate the point.
Rarity sniffed haughtily. “Nonsense. I assure you, darling, that these are real.”
“Whatever.” Gruebel held up his hands in surrender. “Just don’t use any in my clothes.”
“Oh fine, I just need some measurements and I’ll start right away,” Rarity said. The horn on her forehead glowed a bright azure, and the measuring tape lying on the desk next to her matched its glow. It shot over to Gruebel and did a rapid dance about him, unreeling this way and that.
"How very odd," she muttered. "Still, we can work with this. Please have a seat, and don't... touch anything," she sniffed, eyeing his coveralls with a shudder. "I'll have something for you in a tiff!" The measuring tape shot back over to the desk and landed in an untidy heap, the glow fading. The unicorn turned and trotted up a staircase out of sight, reciting the numbers under her breath.
“Ugh, women,” Gruebel signed before taking a seat next to Shadow.
“I know what you mean, that’s why I never got married,” Shadow said. “So what do you think of Equestria so far?”
Gruebel looked blank. "What's Equestria?"
Shadow returned the expression. "This is. I mean, that's what we call our land."
The Marine digested that information for a moment. “It’s a whole new world, a very colourful one,” he said diplomatically. “And it takes a little getting used to.” The expression on Shadow’s face showed that this wasn’t the response he’d hoped for. Gruebel tried a different tack. “Hey, at least I got somebody to show me around.”
Shadow grinned at this. “Yeah you're not half bad either.”
The two fell into a discussion about flight, the one subject that most easily connected them, and the conversation rapidly became a one-up contest about who had flown through the worst weather. Gruebel was motioning with both hands and describing the storm the human pilots had encountered just before arriving...well, wherever here was, when they heard Rarity's hooves descending the stairs.
“Ok,” Rarity said, levitating a few items. “I have a couple of plain shirts and a couple of shorts. And now for your jumpsuit.”
Rarity’s horn glowed once again, and with a bright flash, Gruebel’s jumpsuit was completely clean.
Gruebel tugged and pulled it; the jumpsuit was as clean as if it had been just been pressed, but without the harsh feeling the starching always gave it from the base laundry. “You know what? I’ve seen enough strange things today to last a lifetime, I won’t question this.” He fumbled around his pockets moment in reflex, then looked at Rarity, his face turning red. “Uh, I don’t have any money...do you even use money?”
“Oh it’s on me darling, I always love to design something new!” Rarity said. “Just remember to tell everyone where you got your fabulous...plain...well, at least be sure to give me a reference, hmmm?”
“Well ok, thanks.”
“Goodbye, darling.” The unicorn had already turned away and was fussing over a half-finished dress, the measuring tape, a pair of scissors and several gems coming over to hover about her in a glowing cloud. “Oh my, this won’t do at all...”
Grubel crouched down once more as he and Shadow walked outside into the sunny afternoon. "I take it back. If that's what a clothing store is like around here, I don't even want to know what a nightclub looks like."
Shadow snorted and laughed. "Your loss."
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Midnight Arrow glanced over the form of the tall human that stood beside her, then cast a wistful glance back at the closed door of the library. She couldn’t help but wish that Fluttershy was here with them; the yellow pegasus seemed to have a depth of understanding that brought out the best in a pony, and if ever Midnight needed help understanding someone, now was the time.
Get a grip on yourself, girl. Are you going to go running to her every time you have a problem that needs solving?
She took a deep breath, and turned back to the human. "So, um, you said you were hungry?"
Taylor, who had been bemusedly looking over the upper floors of Twilight’s library, started. "Oh, yeah, definitely." He glanced around, frowning. "You have a café or something around here? I mean, what do horses, ponies, whatever you are, do for lunch?"
"Usually, we go to a café, or something," Midnight replied dryly. "Unless you’d prefer to go out in a nearby field and just chow down on some grass?"
Taylor blinked. "That wasn’t my first choice, no."
"Mine, either. I’ve done it before, on exercises, but I’d prefer a hay sandwich any day of the week." Midnight was surprised at how smooth and normal her voice sounded, and she reminded herself that the tall fellow in front of her was completely out of his own element and likely more nervous than she was by far. "Sound good to you?"
"A sandwich sounds great. Just maybe not hay."
"Suit yourself." If he wanted to eat a dandelion club sandwich instead and get indigestion, that was his business. Midnight turned and began to walk slowly down the street; she glanced down idly as if looking at an interesting insect on the path, and noted that Taylor was obligingly following along. Good. "So…if we’re going to have lunch together, would you mind a proper introduction? Between the name-calling, cursing, angst and general mayhem since we met, I haven’t figured out what to call any of you."
She was inwardly pleased to see him blush slightly; her instinct had been correct. This had been the one who had spoken to Fluttershy on the way back from that first disastrous meeting, and if anything, he seemed to have a well-developed sense of propriety.
"Yeah, um…sorry about the language." He shrugged. "We get a bit salty sometimes when we’re under pressure. It’s kind of an occupational hazard of being in the Navy, I guess."
"Ah, you’re in a naval militia, then? I’ve heard of them, but never met anypony who belonged to one before."
"Um, no. The United States Navy. We have thousands of ships and hundreds of thousands of sailors." Taylor’s professional pride was showing. "It’s a little bit more than a militia, ma’am."
"Fascinating," Midnight said. "And when they ask you to sail to this place or that, do they call you anything other than ‘Hey, You?’"
He laughed, the sound light and pleasant, causing several heads to turn and look at them curiously. "I’ve definitely been called worse things. My apologies." He stopped and came to attention. "Lieutenant Charles Taylor, United States Navy Reserve."
Midnight nodded professionally. "Always pleased to meet a fellow officer, sir. I am Sub-lieutenant Midnight Arrow, Cloud Section Leader, Second Company of the Canterlot Royal Guard, at your service."
Taylor’s eyebrows arched. "Damn, that’s a helluva mouthful. Royal Guard? I don’t feel as bad now, at least we got captured by somebody important."
"We do what we can," Midnight replied modestly. "For brevity’s sake, please call me Midnight. Or Sub-Lieutenant, if you want to stand on formality."
"I don’t think rank protocol is going to be a picky issue right now," Taylor said, an odd smile on his face. "Midnight it is, then. Call me Taylor; Charles is my given name, but I’m used to being Taylor." The crooked smile vanished, and his expression turned abruptly stricken.
"What’s wrong?"
"Just thinking about the rest of my squadron back home. They probably wonder where the hell I am. Shit, I wonder where the hell I am. What am I doing here?"
"Language, Lieutenant." Midnight nodded at a couple of fillies who were peeking out at them from behind a large fountain in the town square ahead. "Mind the children." The human immediately clapped a hand to his mouth and turned bright red, and Midnight couldn’t help but laugh out loud at his distress.
"Sorry," he muttered.
"No harm done, I believe." Midnight motioned with a foreleg and they began moving slowly forward, into the press, hustle and bustle that was Ponyville during a business day. "Why and how you’re here, I can’t tell you, Mr. Taylor. However, what you’re doing here is simple. You’re going to have lunch with a lady who’s about ready to eat the flowers off of a cheap, two-bit hat if she doesn’t get a sandwich in her soon."
Taylor, who had been gawping at a nearby fruit stand, came to a stop again, clapping a hand to one leg. "Sh…uh, I mean, shoot. I don’t have anything to pay with, Midnight."
She feigned shock. "Take a lady out to eat and then stiff her with the bill? What kind of officer and gentlecolt are you, Taylor?"
"No, no, it’s not that, I swear! We don’t fly with any mo…" He broke off. "Officer and what?"
"I’m just twisting your tail, Taylor. So to speak." Midnight giggled and shook herself slightly, the small saddlepack she wore emitting a soft jingling noise. "I don’t carry a pile of money around on operations either, but I do have enough to buy lunch for myself and a guest."
Taylor raised his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, your treat." He shook his head. "Thank God I’m not one of your troops. You fight dirty, lady."
"And I rarely lose," she replied agreeably. "Ah, that looks like a good spot." Midnight changed direction and angled toward a small outdoor restaurant off to one side of the main square. Taylor followed close behind her, casting nervous glances about him at the ponies on every side: ponies arguing over prices, hawking wares such as clothing, food, ornaments, and every other thing you could think of…it looked practically like a small town back home on a Saturday, except for the bewildering multicolored hues of talking ponies. The crowd around him peered back at him with just as much interest, and he overheard several remarks about his height, his clothes, his strange accent. News from Captain Sword had gotten around fast, however, and he was never confronted directly. Staring was apparently in open season, though, and he felt his ears burn.
He came to a halt, staring open-mouthed at a newspaper stand. There seemed to be a variety of publications on display, and his eyes moved over the headline of what appeared to be a popular tabloid titled "Cantertainment Weekly."
Octavia! Is she a tortured soul who pours out her immortal longings into dignified passages of stately music, or is she just a silly poof who writes tunes? Answers INSIDE!
A picture on the cover showed a pony with a forbidding expression, dark, flowing hair and wearing what appeared to be a bowtie while playing a cello. Taylor rubbed his face and turned away, breaking into a jog to catch up with Midnight Arrow.
"Here we go!" Midnight took a seat at a low table, settling herself comfortably on a clump of hay that seemed to stand in for a chair. Taylor stared for a moment, and then sat down on the matching clump across from her, wincing as he heard it crackle under his weight.
"Relax, silly, that’s what it’s there for."
"Right." After a moment or two, a buff colored pony wearing a white-collared shirt edged hesitantly over to them, placing two menus on the table. "G-Good afternoon," he managed to stammer out. "Can I get you something to drink?"
"Sarsaparilla, please." Midnight picked up the menu absently out of habit, fairly certain of what she wanted to eat, but checking over the specials just in case.
"And y-you, sir?"
"Just water, thanks." Taylor had never wanted a beer so badly in his life, but he felt alcohol might be a bad idea right now. A very bad idea. As the waiter moved hurriedly off, Taylor looked sharply up at Midnight. "Wait. You have soda pop?"
Midnight looked briefly up at him over the edge of her menu, her expression patient. "Yes, Lieutenant. We also invented the wheel a short while ago, as I recall."
"Okay, okay." Taylor sighed and picked up the menu. The first few entrees on the list made him freeze up again, and it was only with a heroic effort that he suppressed the first words that threatened to jump out of his mouth. Hay bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich? Dandelion Club Classic? Hay fries?? His stomach and brain both began to debate the wisdom of this venture.
The waiter returned with their drinks, then produced a pad. "Are you ready to order yet?"
"I’ll take the hay sandwich special, light on the sauce, please." Midnight closed her menu and handed it over to the waiter as he busily scribbled down her order. "How about you, Taylor?"
Taylor’s eyes frantically scanned over the offerings before him. A few seconds of silence passed, and the waiter, mistaking the lieutenant’s reticence for indecision, spoke up hesitantly. "Perhaps the—"
“Do you serve any form of meat here?” Taylor interrupted.
“You eat meat?” Midnight’s eyes were wide as saucers as she took in the new information. “Dear Celestia...”
“Don’t worry Midnight,” Taylor looked to the armoured pegasus, wary of scaring the only guard who hadn’t tried to hit him yet. “Humans are omnivores, meaning we can eat both meat and greens.”
The waiter, whose eyes matched Midnight’s in size, timidly pointed to the front of the menu before Taylor. Boldly emblazoned on the front in big letters was what appeared to be the café’s motto. This is a vegetarian restaurant — we serve no meat of any kind. We're not only proud of that, we're smug about it.
“Oh...” Taylor said as he continued looking through the menu.
Another minute passed by in silence as Taylor scanned through the menu, the two nearby ponies too afraid to ask him anything.
"Oh thank God!" Taylor shouted, causing several heads to turn. The waiter jerked back, his pad flying off the table and nearly knocking the water glass over. "I’ll have the house salad!"
"E-Excellent choice, s-s-sir," the waiter stammered. Seizing his order book from the ground, he took their menus and beat a hasty retreat toward the kitchen as Taylor grinned triumphantly at Midnight.
The sub-lieutenant arched an eyebrow at him. "Really like your greens, hmm?"
"Honey," Taylor said, "you have no idea."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As Stivers watched his comrades and their odd body guards walk off in their various directions, he gave out a long sigh.
“Well then Captain, what do we do now?” Stivers asked the still irritated Sword.
“I guess now I give you a tour of the village.” His irritation quickly became a grimace as he too let out a long sigh. “This is the town library, as well as personal abode of Miss Twilight Sparkle, prodigy of our loving and benevolent empress.”
“I can’t help but notice the sarcasm there.” Stivers stated.
“Seems your perceptive abilities don’t need any work.” Sword retorted.
“I need good eyes to be a pilot.” Stivers commented as they walked towards a house that appeared to made of candy.
“What’s a pilot?” the Captain asked.
“It’s a guy who flies planes.” Stivers replied, nonplussed.
“And those flaming metal contraptions you were camped around when we found you are ‘planes’?” Sword raised an eyebrow, as he stopped before the candied building.
“The ones that didn’t turn into scrap metal on impact, yes.” Guided tour or not, Stivers still considered himself in enemy territory, at least for the moment, and he wasn’t about to divulge any technical information if he could help it. Changing the subject, he stopped and pointed. “Please tell me this building isn’t edible.”
“No, you barbarian, it’s a bakery,” Captain Sword snapped. “Haven’t you ever heard of theming?” He caught himself and took a long, slow breath.
“So,” Stivers said in a dull monotone. “This is a themed bakery?” Sword nodded his head in affirmation. “What’s the theme?”
“Uh,” Sword looked towards the top of the building, eyeing the candy like structures. “I think it’s for—”
“Wrong!” Stivers and Sword jumped at the sudden appearance of the pink pony. “It’s theme is delicious is what it is!”
Stivers and Sword shared a glance, neither sure of what to make of the pink blur that was bouncing faster then their eyes could follow.
“Oh, you should come in I baked all kinds of delicious muffins and cupcakes and, Oh! I haven’t thrown you a welcome to Equestria party yet have I? Oh I am so sorry—”
Stivers starred in mute horror as the small pink machine spoke at a seemingly impossible rate, not once stopping to take a breath.
“—and there will flour and pin the tail on the pony and—”
Stivers leaned over to the pegasi Captain, “Is this normal behavior?” he asked in a hushed voice, so as to avoid offending the pink pony.
“No... I don’t know what this is...” Sword responded in kind. “But from what I know about the Elements of Harmony, she is the manifestation of laughter. So...”
“So... what?” Stivers concern was splayed across his face. “So what do we do?”
“We take it like stallions, and hope for the best.” Sword stated plainly.
“You’re not being very encouraging, here.” Stivers frowned down at the pegasus. “If it’s as bad as you make it out to be, maybe we should just go somewhere else.”
“No, she outranks me, and gave a direct order.” The fear in his eyes told Stivers that he did not want to go in with her.
“—and then they put a bag on my head and threw me in the trunk of the carriage again! After a while, we got back to Ponyville and they threw me out! I mean, how rude is that?” The pink chatter box was staring at them intently, clearly expecting an answer.
“Yah,” Stivers answered, the first of the two to pick their jaws up. “How very rude of them... I can’t believe they would do that... thing.”
“Most unpleasant indeed Miss Pinkie Pie.” Sword took up the slack where Stivers had faltered.
“I totally know right?” she answered while working her hooves around the necks of both pony and human and dragging them into Sugar Cube Corner.
“Stivers,” Captain Sword looked at the human squarely. “Brace yourself.”
“For what?”
“Anything, Captain. Anything at all.” Sword took a deep breath.
“Roger. You watch my back, I’ll watch yours.” Stivers was vaguely aware of being dragged into the kitchen of the establishment, but he was too busy trying to fight his way out of the pink ponies impossibly strong grasp. “We… we have a term for this where I come from.”
“What’s that, Captain?”
“We’re here!” the pink pony had interrupted, dropping both of them in the pitch black area surrounding them. As Pinkie fled into the darkness, the sound of knives being sharpened was all that was heard throughout the dark.
Stivers spoke into the blackness. “It’s FUBAR.”
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"Hay bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich?" They're vegetarians and yet they eat pork?
1985326
*GASP* THEY KNOW!
artificial bacon.
i have a new term for their situation
Fubabar 'Fucked beyond all belief and recovery'
Not for food anyway........
And in Pinkies case, she would be SNAFU... Situation Noramal All Fucked Up
3092556
WRONG! There's nothing normal about Pinkie...
Why are the MLP/WWII fanfics always written by British?
(the good ones, anyways)
2597758 it's actually "fucked up beyond all rescue/reason"
And now you know.
The way Twilight just forced the humans and Royal Guards out of the library's premises just seems a little too forceful. It's understandable that she'd treat the humans this way, but I don't see her using teleportation magic to aggressively vent her frustrations at being 'blown off' by Celestia on... Celestia's own guards. Then again, she is shown to treasure Celestia's regard to the highest extent, so that's justifiable.
Like any other Marine, Gallivan clearly exudes the camaraderie that anybody familiar with the USMC would expect. I applaud the writer for portraying that attitude in a faithful manner. That being, said...
Considering that they're all flyboys, I find that remark a little unusual. After all, they're not the ones slugging it out on the ground and taking over hostile territory.
You might want to your memory checked, Marine. You just saw Midnight Arrow flew in front of the Gallivan a few minutes ago.
I was willing to give this one more chapter, but the turn-around with the attitudes of the Guard is so far beyond logical, I am nearly at a loss for words. First, they're fully prepared to fight, bully, seriously injure, and potentially murder our Humans. Two chapters later everybody is suddenly buddy-buddy as if they're all life-long fucking friends. The completely uncaring and openly hostile attitude was bad enough from the Guards, but then I saw this bullshitery:
Really? You're a god-damned MARINE! Fact: if a Marine is under the impression they are in hostile territory and confronted with openly hostile unknowns pointing weapons at them, they will die before they surrender the only weapon they have at their disposal. And there is no way you can make me believe that a Marine is going to walk around in obviouslyhostile territory willingly after he was been forcibly disarmed, next to any individual that has been needlessly antagonistic and is carrying a weapon. The ONLY thing you would get out of a captured Marine is his name, rank, and social security number repeated until rescue. This is ridiculous.
8507518
Honestly, fixing up the first 10 chapters was on my to-do list for the better part of a year, before I abandoned ship on ponies... So yah, take it or leave it.
All I can say is it does get better after a while once my co-author took over most of the writing.
This is a vegetarian restaurant — we serve no meat of any kind. We're not only proud of that, we're smug about it.
I will eat you, I don't care. Meat is meat, protein is protein