28. Pony Pachinko
Farmer Bruener Has Some Ponies
Pony Pachinko
“For some reporters, access is more important than solidarity.”
― Jim Acosta, Enemy of the People
- - - - ⧖ - - - -
Time: 6:45 A.M. Tuesday June 23, 2015
Location: Somewhere Over Central Kansas
- - - - ⧖ - - - -
With as much as Agent Karla Anacostia had been through over the last few days, she expected to sleep in on Tuesday. To be honest, this morning was going to be a real nutcracker once she turned her phone back on, so sleeping in a little was justified. She had enough accumulated annual leave to choke a goat, so a few days off would be nice. Delusional, but nice. Once the phone turned on, she would have to return Clyde’s inevitable voicemail, and every single moment of Karla’s life for the next few months was going to be spoken for, mostly by FBI bureaucrats who were going to tell her what to say, where to stand, and to look suitably FBI-ish while it was all going on.
She would be expected to produce a report of her actions since the moment she took the hospital elevator up to Widget’s room until… well, the time she was writing the report, in fifteen minute intervals, including sleep.
2:15 A.M. Sleeping on couch in alien visitor’s room, dreaming about chocolate.
2:30 A.M. Shifting restlessly on couch. Granny Smith snores.
At least Claire had provided a sleeping bag for their girls night sleepover at the Bruener house. The fitting of each one of them to the appropriate bag had been… interesting. Humans were more I shaped while ponies tended to the H, which left Widget able to fit into one of the bags with a little squirming around, and Goose…
The more Karla tried to think about the big-winged batpony twisting herself into a knot to get comfortable, the more she wanted a drink. With all the associated wings and limbs, Goose had looked somewhat like a knot of blacksnakes dancing on a live electrical wire. At least the night had been cool, so they had left the windows wide open while curling up in the four-creature bedroom huddle to look out at the star-strewn Kansas sky. Whatever the FBI had in store for a misbehaving agent tomorrow was worth it, just for the experience Karla had lived through so far.
Although the breeze seemed a bit excessive for Clarie’s bedroom. As well as the voices.
Karla opened one eye and peeked outside of the sleeping bag.
This was not Claire Bruener’s bedroom.
- - - - ⧖ - - - -
Time: 6:45 A.M. Tuesday June 23, 2015
Location: Somewhere Over Central Kansas
- - - - ⧖ - - - -
Nick had never slept better. There was something to be said to living through an aborted alien invasion return portal failure… or whatever you wanted to call the Equestrians missing their return bus. He had gotten changed into his cammies just after midnight, curled up in the Army bunkhouse for the temporary deploy-ees, and been asleep before his head hit the pillow.
The suspiciously furry pillow, now that he thought about it. And warm. And why was there such a stiff breeze? And so bright?
He opened one eye. Determined that he was not in the mobile bunkhouse that had been moved to the Bruener farm pasture. Turned his gaze downward through the perforated aluminum floor of the Equestrian chariot, and the exceedingly long distance until the Kansas farmland below.
Fuck. I’ve been kidnapped!
“Shh,” hissed Widget, who was holding one plastic-splinted foreleg to her lips just a few inches away. “We don’t want to wake Goose.”
“You couldn't wake Goose with a gong and a trumpet solo,” said a pegasus next to them. The mare had a mottled white coat that looked a lot like clouds, if not for the sleek teal mane that would have made her easier to see in the sky. Every indication he could see just shouted ‘Nurse!’ from her short-trimmed mane to a bobbed tail, in particular the Red Cross symbol on her rump, another parallel element between humans and ponies that Nick was just baffled about.
Then again, the nurse was an unlikely kidnapper. Nick rolled his head enough to look Widget in her big, dangerous eyes, but before he could say anything, she pointed at the unconscious batpony.
“It was her idea!”
Sitting behind her, Claire Bruener nodded vigorously. “We had to give her some Valium to come along… Well, Nurse Crosswind did. She’s like the B.A. Baracus of our team. And since you’re assigned to guard the Equestrians… You know, this sounded like a lot better idea when we were sneaking you out of the Army barracks.”
A restless motion one pony over made Nick look down and lock eyes with an unfamiliar woman, or at least one he had not met in person. “Oh, Agent Anacostia,” he managed, “I’d like to report a kidnapping?”
- - - - ⧖ - - - -
Time: 7:02 A.M. Tuesday June 23, 2015
Location: The Bruner Farm, Kansas
- - - - ⧖ - - - -
Rank Hath Its Privileges, but it also came with some real hum-dingers.
One of the privileges appeared to be baby alien princess morning snuggles, from the soft, pleasant shade of green that greeted his eyes when he awoke, still a few minutes away from his alarm. The Brueners had ‘loaned’ him one of the basement guest bedrooms with the understanding that a small herd of smaller ponies would be watching the big-screen TV all night doing some sort of horror movie marathon, and therefore there might be some screaming to disturb his rest. So while his 2IC and staff took care of incidentals outside in the Kansas summer heat, he had sacked out for a good night’s sleep without even a twitch from the ecstatic movie audience just a few feet away.
Although he did admit to sneaking to the doorway and taking a picture of them before going to bed. Apparently, he had not closed the door afterward, and little Princess Clover had been wandering the house, much like a lonesome puppy seeking a comfortable spot to nap.
“You are a cutie,” admitted Hackmore, giving the sleeping foal a gentle push to get his face out of her furry side. “But Grandpa Hackmore has to get up now.”
Clover relaxed with a tiny sigh and snuggled down to press her cold nose against the side of his neck. Gregory Hackmore decided a few more minutes in bed would not affect the earth’s defenses against the alien invasion, such as it was. Surrender, for at least a few minutes, was a perfectly valid option, at least while he snagged his SMEPED off the bedstand and checked his email.
It kept him from using profanity as he scrolled down his emails.
“They’re sending them by the dozens,” he murmured. “It’s like a plague. He has erected a multitude of new offices, and sent hither swarms of officers to harass our people, and eat out their substance. We’ll have ten times the men here tomorrow than we have now! I’ll bet half of these ‘working groups’ didn’t exist before yesterday, and if any of them know what end of a rifle…”
Consideration as to exactly how he wanted to properly respond took some time, and during his morose meditation, the familiar scroungy green of Lucky’s nose poked in through the bedroom doorway.
“Ah, General. I see my daughter found you. Gave us a bit of a panic.” The shaggy stallion came the rest of the way into the bedroom and shrugged out of his saddlebags. “She doesn’t need to be changed, does she?”
“No, but I think I do.” General Hackmore turned off his SMEPED and tossed it back onto the bedstand. “The Pentagon is sending a ‘few’ working groups and committees on fact-finding missions. They’ve got about everybody on board, from the SEALS sending one of their teams down to AMEDD flying down what seems to be a hospital. Army Medical Department,” he added to quell Lucky’s obvious confusion. “Then to make matters worse, I’ve been ordered to turn over the direct security detail to the National Guard, which some genius thinks will remain under Army control. Governor Brown will have a declaration of emergency out by the afternoon, and the whole thing will wind up in his hands.”
“Why not just tell them all no?” asked Lucky. “Your Army has been doing a fine job keeping the site secure and any threats away. Although I think Sergeant Hardhooves wants to take one of your humm-vees with us when we go. One of your crews gave him a ride, and he won’t stop talking about it.”
“I can’t… Well…” Stood on its head, the problem seemed far too simple, sort of the exact opposite of what Jim Carrey did in Bruce Almighty. Worst case, the CinC would relieve him of command and he could retire, secure in the knowledge that he would save about ten years of paperwork in the process. All it took was a simple message to his second-in-command.
Deny all Pentagon requests for any visits unless and only if ordered directly by the president.
It was difficult typing with only one hand, but he didn’t want to give up holding Clover. A few minutes of texting later, he leaned back against the headboard and shifted the sleeping foal to a more comfortable position. It was a lot like cradling a sleeping grandchild, complete with the warm glow of love under his ribs. Only with sharp hooves.
“You will hear vast amounts of screaming from the east in a few minutes,” he added, “from hundreds of crusty old men and women in the Pentagon. Unfortunately, I’ll still have to turn over your security to the National Guard, and that’s going to be a nightmare. The Posse Comitatus Act prevents the Army from engaging in law enforcement activities. The problem is you’re friendly. If you had been invading, and the Army was fighting you off, we could stay as long as needed.”
The shaggy stallion had a look of intense concentration, and Hackmore had to remind himself that Lucky had an advanced degree in history back in Equestria, and although he looked cute and cuddly like the rest, he was as much a professional as Secretary Franz. And he didn’t know anything about the US military.
“The National Guard is a transition from the regular service,” added Hackmore in about as brief a summary as he could manage. “They’re reserve units who train a few weekends a year and hold down civilian jobs. The governors of the states can ‘call out the guard’ for declared emergencies like disaster relief or… well, alien invasions in this case. The equipment they’ll be moving in are hand-me-downs from the armed forces, so I suppose we could transfer the tanks and vehicles to the Kansas units to avoid the cluster it took to get them here.”
“So… you could transfer the existing security people to the reserve guard while we’re here, and hire them back when we’re gone?” asked the pony. “They’d still be under Governor Brown’s command like the Highway Patrol, and we haven’t had any problems dealing with them. Except when the Cutie Mark Crusaders drove one of their cars into the lake.”
“I… um…” General Hackmore reached out one hand and flexed it into a claw. “Not a bad idea. I just hate the idea of losing control over the situation. I just want to grab it. Human nature, I suppose.”
He snugged the sleeping alien princess up higher on his shoulder and grabbed his SMEPED again.
Begin procedure to transfer all on-site personnel and equipment to the KSNG. Both will remain in place under NG command to comply with Posse Comitatus act. Off-site units remain in place on standby as before.
Punching the send button turned into a scramble to change his grip on the SMEPED, which had started to ring and incidentally finished waking up Clover from drooling on his shoulder.
“Phon?” she murmured.
“Bottle,” said Lucky, and scooped her up so Hackmore could answer his call.
“General Hackmore,” said Greg into his secure phone. “Go ahead.”
He limited his comments to mostly grunts, although he had to say “Kidnapped?” when the topic came up, and scribble a few notes for later. The information Nick transmitted was simple, straightforward, and indicative of much higher rank for him in the future, perhaps even a spokesman of some sort, although he might need a step-stool to reach the microphone. Tall soldiers just didn’t go into Armor, for obvious reasons.
“Lieutenant Comena, you’ve done such a good job here that I’m not going to write you up for Failure to Repair. Instead, I think you deserve a break. Take a three-day pass and enjoy yourself with the Equestrians in Wichita. Just not too much. I’ll even send your crew to bring your gear, so you make a good impression on the locals. I’ll see you back here when they return. Dismissed.”
Lucky was eyeing him when Hackmore hung up the call. “I recognize that expression,” he said, still holding the bottle to Clover. “Feel like everything is slipping out of control?”
“I’m trying to figure out just why I was suffering under the delusion that I was controlling the situation in the first place,” said Hackmore. “Apparently an FBI agent and three children have kidnapped my top TC and are flying down to Wichita. I knew your bunch was going to play tourist for a few days, but this is a bit much.”
Lucky shrugged and continued to feed his daughter. “Kids. We’ll be gone in two weeks. Time will just fly by. Trust me.”
The SMEPED took that opportunity to ring again, and Hackmore thumbed it on.
“Yes,” he snapped, then sat up at attention. “The President? Yes, I’ll hold.”
Things were getting more complicated. Two weeks from now could not come fast enough.
- - - - ⧖ - - - -
Time: 8:16 A.M. Tuesday June 23, 2015
Location: Somewhere Over Central Kansas
- - - - ⧖ - - - -
“So…” The crippled pink unicorn had the most plaintive eyes that just bored their way into Nick’s heart. “Are you in trouble?”
“No, I’m fine.” He handed the phone back to Miss Bruener, but did not get up. There was entirely too much air between him and Kansas right now. “Apparently going AWOL by being kidnapped by aliens is worth a three-day pass now. Do you have an itinerary for this kidnapping, Ma’am?”
“Landing first,” said Agent Anacostia. The dark-skinned woman was up on her knees, but no further, to look around. “I really don’t like being on anything I’m not flying.”
Widget nodded vigorously, making her shortened and patchy mane flutter in the breeze. “Claire showed me a bunch of places on her phone. After your Air Force takes us on some airplane rides, except for Goose there—”
Goose gave out another Valium-induced snore.
“—there’s a big zoo and a huge flower garden and a bunch of museums, but I want to go to boing.”
“Boeing,” corrected Miss Bruener.
“She says there’s a bunch of really big buildings there, and I thought Goose could fly around in them without triggering her fear of heights.”
“It’s a fear of wide open areas,” said Nick, but he most certainly did not add that Laminia thought of himself as Goose-therapy. He had enough trouble with the kids egging her on. “The hangers may actually be too large, if I remember right. Boeing built whole airplanes inside of them.”
“Oh.” The pink unicorn was slowed, but not discouraged, and shoulder-nudged the FBI agent to her side. “And we’ve got Karla with us for security. With Goose, of course. She says she can rent a car and go bar-hopping. Oh, wait. That was Claire,” she added at Karla’s brief objection. “And sing karaoke! Whatever that is.”
“We are going to lose dozens of you in Wichita,” said Agent Anacostia. “You’re going to get lost, and I’m going to get fired a dozen times. We need—”
“Phones,” declared the medical pegasus, producing one tucked into her wingtip. “Each group has one, and the Air Force base general said he’d assign an air man to each group. They’re wonderful devices! I’m going to take a dozen of them home with me and give them to all of my friends.”
Nick started to object, considered he was on a flying wagon pulled by pegasi with a unicorn by his side, and closed his mouth. Who knew, maybe they could find a way to make them work without cell towers. They certainly were no end of surprises, as the Navy was about to find out.
- - - - ⧖ - - - -
Time: 2:36 A.M. Tuesday June 23, 2015
Location: An undisclosed location south of the Bruener farm, and a few hundred feet up
- - - - ⧖ - - - -
Everything about the mission bothered Captain Kevin Rogers, USN, which was one reason he made such a good officer in the Navy Seals. After the first notification he had of the alien invasion last Friday, sufficiently verified, he had put out the word to his team, expecting to be airborne out of San Diego in a matter of hours.
And then, nothing…
Google Maps had provided terrain for the surrounding area, the San Francisco Chronicle of all places had no end of photos, and… Nothing could possibly be that cute without being dangerous too. The world was full of creatures with bright colors who were advertising their lethal abilities, times ten in the ocean depths. True, the aliens could be what they claimed, but they also could be a convenient group of their civilians being used as guinea pigs, shoved through a portal into an alien world to see what kind of response they would provoke.
Without time to prepare a mock-up so they could practice an assault, Rogers had improvised, then improvised again when it turned out the aliens were being dispersed among the civilian population of the area. Various elements of higher rank discussed their responses while Rogers tried his best not to over-train his men, or allow them to grow too attached to the helpless creatures. They repeatedly played the video of the Felts family assaulting the local Kansas police officer along with the related response by the ponies, determined weak points to concentrate on should force be required, and modified their equipment loadout in return.
By the evening of the alien’s supposed return, the ‘ID cards’ of their targets were expanded until every one of the men under his command could ID them by silhouette or rump-symbol. The way the local military mixed freely with the aliens was of a particular concern. If the aliens indeed had some sort of mind-control abilities, they would also have control over four tanks and associated armored vehicles. That concern was only magnified by the video that the Army provided of their joint exercise, both at Camp Victory and the paintball arena, as well as a report detailing the ‘enchantments’ they had on their armor.
If their observation mission turned into a fight, any alien in armor was to be targeted first, and shot until they were no longer a threat. In the head, preferably.
Then the video of the batwinged alien’s fight with the FBI agents in Kansas City became available, and priority shifted again. The dark pegasus aliens had only three adults, so any assault (if needed) would start with neutralizing them. Hard.
With the ‘failure’ of the alien’s return portal, prepared wheels within the Navy began to turn. In short order, Captain Rogers and his team was headed east, leaving the sunny beaches and friendly girls of San Diego for a long, noisy trip in a C-130J into America’s heartland.
Still, it was planned as an observation mission, with the observation, “Be polite, be professional, but have a plan to kill everybody you meet.”
His current observation point was five thousand feet AGL and closing fast.
A proper HALO jump was never complete without some jackass landing a few hundred feet off-target, despite endless training. This one was going according to plan, which made Rogers look for anything else that was going wrong.
Sixteen men, oxygen bottles, hundreds of pounds of gear, sniper rifles, bean-bag guns, LRP packages, gallons of water, all jerked to near stops as they pulled their rip cords in unison. A short period of maneuvering later, they were all standing on Kansas grassland, stuffing their chutes into bags and looking around.
“Hell of a lot better than dropping in the sandbox,” said one of the men out in the pitch darkness, just barely lit by the glimmering stars. “There’s a shallow gully about twenty meters south of here, Cap. Good place to rendezvous?”
“Agreed.” Captain Rogers keyed his microphone. “All units, meeting at the green chemlight. Sound off.”
Thankfully, that also went without a hitch, and in moments his team was huddled up like the worlds most heavily armed football team, night vision goggles and IR chemlights giving out a faint glow sufficient to read maps or check gear. Every weapon was properly stowed, since Rogers did not want to take any chances with a negligent discharge or surprised farmer this close to the target. With this much gear and with as many other people were in the area, their landing zone was practically on top of the middle observation point. Just because SEALS could hump a few hundred kilos of concentrated death dozens of miles did not mean they had to.
“So far, so good,” said Rogers, orienting the map tablet to the surrounding terrain. “I’m just glad this is eastern Kansas or we’d be trying to find cover in prairie dog holes five miles from the targets.”
His men chuckled, but remained alert, just as he wanted.
“Alpha, you’re over there, Charlie off that way. Bravo is with me, about a hundred meters over the top of that hill. Find the positions we have marked, dig in, and get out your ghillie suits. Avoid the radio if at all possible, because we don’t know what these aliens are capable of. We’ve got about four hours before sunrise—”
There was a faint ripping noise like cloth in the wind, and a very angry dark shape landed right next to their huddle.
“What do you idiots think you are doing!” the armored pony hissed. It was hard to make out exact features in the green-tinted glare of his night vision goggles, but the dark pony looked like Laminia, the adult female ‘batpony’ and the unhappy foal in her back-carrier could only be Stargazer, due to the pale stripe that ran down her dark mane.
And Mama wasn’t happy.
“I just got her to sleep, and it’s been two weeks! Two weeks since I’ve had any free time with my husband. Then you idiot humans come plummeting out of the sky and off we go, ready to save yet another bunch of blithering fools, and it wakes up Stargazer and now I’ve got to pee because the other foal is giving me indigestion. For two bits, I’d dig a hole and bury all of you out here, but no! I’ve got to be friendly and nice! ‘Maybe the humans just forgot to tell us’ he says. ‘Maybe they’re just practicing’ he says. ‘Maybe they—”
Glittering yellow eyes darted to one side, catching Owensby in the act of trying to draw his pistol in the most subtle fashion possible.
“Pull that out,” she growled, “and I will stuff it up your ass, sideways!”
“Yesma’am!” stammered Owensby and saluted out of reflex.
“Where was I?” muttered Laminia, her face set in a disagreeable scowl.
“Ask them if General Hackmore is aware of their arrival,” said a deep rumbling voice out in the darkness, much as if a huge embarrassed panther was lurking there.
“Uh, no, sir,” managed Rogers.
“Well, what in the blazes are you doing out here, then!” snapped Laminia.
“We… uh…” This situation was certainly not in any scenario Rogers had ever run, and the truth seemed oddly compelling, mostly because he was just a little afraid of what would happen if he lied to the snarling mare and she ever found out. She was actually a lot like his first ex-wife, with fangs. “Observation mission, sir. I mean Ma’am. Some of the brass are concerned that you might be… influencing the other soldiers.”
Narrowed golden eyes carefully examined every one of his men, along with their gear. “Guns?” she asked.
“A few,” started Rogers, then corrected when she glowered at him even harder than before. “Each,” he added.
“Humans and guns are worse than Twilight Sparkle and her books,” she muttered. “I am not waking up Hardhooves for this. Or General Hackmore! And it’s too much bucking work to dig a hole big enough for all of you. I swear, you humans are as big as whales.”
“You have whales on your planet too?” asked Rogers, who rather liked whales at the proper distance.
“Yeah.” Laminia frowned and put a hoof on her barrel. “Every time I get pregnant, here come the whale jokes. Observation, eh?”
Rogers nodded. The rest of his team did also.
“Show me where you’re setting up, stay out of the way, and I’ll tell your general about you tomorrow during Day shift. If Hackmore and Hardhooves say you can stay, fine. If not, you go.”
“General Hackmore isn’t supposed to— Yes, that’s fine,” said Rogers when Laminia looked back at him. That crack she made about digging a hole suddenly did not seem very funny.
“Fine, fine,” she grumbled. “Just remember three things while you’re ‘observing.’ First, if I see one gun, even one of those blasted paintball guns, whoever is holding it is going to eat it. And second, there’s a little patch of yellow wildflowers over the hill that way.” She waved with a grim smile. “Any ‘observation’ in that area is going to be met with real violence. And third…”
Dark lips pulled back from sharp teeth in what could be technically be considered a smile. “We’re going to need somebody to watch Stargazer then.”
In the US armed forces, there is an unwritten rule: Never Volunteer
Breaking that rule turned out to be not so bad after all.
Even though Stargazer was teething and bit him.
Twice.
Thankfully, she did not like the taste.
It was probably better for the planet, anyway.
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Happy New Year from the ponies of Kansas.
Laminia is just a little ball of sunshine⁽*⁾.
(*) White-hot, prone to unexpected outbursts, and will burn you to a crisp the minute you forget she's there.
10012833
Also, she adds gravity to any situation.
10012833
Happy New Year!
Seems the vaunted SEALS have met their match!
Happy New Year from Wichita, KS.
The army is being ordered to stand down because of legal requirements and now some bozo is sending in the SEALS. Wouldn't this still be in violation of the law though I'm sure someone will either bend the law or justify it in some way..
Though it was rather stupid of the seals not to realize it would be almost impossible to drop in. I mean Goose creamed the FBI agents in a dark office even in the middle of nowhere Kansas with no moon probably has more ambient light than a dark office
I dunno, waking up General Hackmore would have solved so many problems. Nothing like letting the Army and Navy yell at each other for a bit to get them out of the way.
(Although I'm guessing that's what the President was talking to Hackmore about).
Proof that teenager ideas don't need alcohol to be not good ones. XD
So, it isn't a total win-lose situation. :D Definite silver lining.
I can't help but think there is going to be a heck of a lot of best selling memoirs about ponies after they are gone. With probably a whole book alone about the CMC.
Well, yes. I thought that was obvious. ;)
10012833
Happy New Year!
"Failure to Repair" = "Failure To Appear"?
10012905 NO I doubt that remember the military is being stood down due to legal concerns. Also the General knows how hard it will be for people to arrive without being noticed also how serious the Equestrian Guard is about protecting Lucky and Clover.
This is being done on the down low because they are worried the ponies are influencing the soldiers already onsite. Thankfully this is happening in the US failure to communicate by various groups of soldiers entering a situation has ended up with many friendly fire incidents over the years
10012852
That sounded like a whale joke! I hope Laminia didn't hear you!
10012950 The Army doesn't talk to the Navy, who doesn't talk to the Air Force, who don't talk to the Army. Yep.
10012946 Failure to Repair UCMJ Art 86 (1) "The accused, without authority, failed to go to the appointed place of duty at the time prescribed." Most common in the Navy with sailors who show up just in time to see the stern of their ship vanishing off into the ocean, although it can be reduced by *immediately* contacting the CO and explaining yourself (groveling helps).
10012914 SEALS (the real ones, not the ones bragging about it in a bar) are some of the nicest, most polite people in ordinary company. By day.
10012905 No, the President doesn't normally get involved with DEVGRU deployments except on High Value Targets. The President's call is (to be revealed later) to clear the decks for an Official Visit next Saturday. (US Presidents have visited Manhattan nearly a dozen times, so its not an unique thing for us)
10012892 They dropped in on a moonless night from 20k feet plus more than a mile from the farm in as remote a section of pasture as possible. They just didn't check the romance potential of the area first. It's not like you can put a sock on the doorknob of a pasture.
10012879 Happy New Year, too! I'm sending you ponies!
10012869 A pissed-off mama batpony who was just about to get some long-delayed sugar when they barged in. No number of SEALs would have been safe. Chuck Norris would have backed off.
10012852 Crushing, angry gravity.
Sleepy cranky thestral foal, suddenly awoken by 16 thumps of rapidly compressed air reflecting off the ground?
Yup, its Pumpernickle Pickle Time.
I wonder what these guys faces would be like if they ever saw the Crystal Express, never mind if they found out it can punch clear through the berg that took out the Titanic.
I thought I remmebered something many days eariler about Optio verses a truck?
The Coast Guard is completely outside the restrictions of the Posse Comitatus Act, being both an armed force and a law enforcement agency. Technically the Navy and Marines aren't included in the act too, but they observe it anyways.
10012976
).
When it was written, they probably didn't give much consideration to maritime forces pursuing targets onto land (other than harbour-side bars
Of course, that was before Navy SEALs, Marine infantry ("Every Man A Rifleman"), etc.
10012959
I wonder if it's too late to redirect it into being a joke about Pumpernickel's density?
10012967 And how many soldiers have been caught in friendly fire that way.. But none of them like to give authority to the others I can see
10013005
I think you still have time, since it seems like you are unharmed.
That's a really cute little law, considering the amount of "police actions" our military has undertaken for the past several decades.
10013116 Ahem. Law enforcement *inside* the US. Yeah, I know.
10013052 10013005 She's got a long list. It could take some time.
10013007 Admittedly, that's a constant in warfare. Allied forces have implemented Blue Force Tracking since the Kuwait war at least as far as I know. Very useful.
10013003 Or the USMC (Uncle Sam's Misguided Children)
10012976 Yeah, but the largest Coast Guard station in Kansas is in Topeka, where they process timesheets.
10012971 Hm, blanking on that.
Well it seems the disaster i expected from the seals entering a situation like that has been headed off at the pasture. Thats good this bright idea of sending heavily armed troops into a situation like this without informing anyone just screamed friendly fire incident waiting to happen.
I would love to see the report on Nicks kidnapping. Tank commander was abducted by aliens, on confirmation they were headed to witchita it was decided to give him a 3 day leave and to enjoy the probing about his relationship with one of their number called Goose.
Not mind control, as such, but could be considered ‘conditioned reflex’.
Definitely conditioned reflex.
While the rest of humanity would probably argue about this observation it is probably fair considering Lamina’s limited exposure to a localised subset of humanity.
Good to see motherhood has not reduced Lamina’s possessive intensity... it has simply spread its area of effect to a slightly wider scope beyond Luna, Lumpy and Celestia.
I needed this. Happy New Year! And thank you.
Personally, I'd want to take a look at the LZ with thermals before committing, you know what they say about assumptions and all that.
Snipin' is a good job, mate.
I do hope the ponies aren't too disappointed when most of the "gifted" technology doesn't work as well as it does here-- like the phones and other devices critically dependant on a global communication and power infrastructure. Still, a room full of clever unicorns (there /are/ other smart ponies out there besides Twilight, heh) could probably figure out how to reverse-engineer the things before Equestrian tech goes off on it's own tangent with their own uniquely designed phones, computers, and humvees.
10012971
10012971
I think it was the heavy lift unicorn (name escapes me) vs an APC.
Best! New Year's! EVER! I was so excited to see an update! Georg, you are a magnificent bastard <3
I think that's a rule in every armed forces everywhere.
General, general, general... when and where did you manage to lose your Sergeant Major whose job it was to tell you that you were never in charge in the first place?
GENERAL: Leaps tall buildings, is more powerful than a locomotive, is faster than a speeding bullet, walks on water amid hurricanes, gives policy to God.
COLONEL: Leaps short buildings with a single bound, is more powerful than a switch engine, is just as fast as a speeding bullet, walks on water if the sea is calm, talks to God.
LT. COLONEL: Leaps short buildings with a running start and a favorable wind, is almost as powerful as a switch engine, is faster than a speeding pellet, walks on water in indoor swimming pool, talks to God if a request form is approved.
MAJOR: Barely clears a Quonset hut, loses tug of war with a switch engine, can fire a speeding bullet, swims well, is occasionally addressed by God.
CAPTAIN: Makes high marks by trying to leap buildings, gets run over by locomotive, can sometimes handle a gun without shooting himself, dog paddles, talks to animals.
1ST. LIEUTENANT: Runs into buildings, recognizes locomotive two out of three times, is not issued with live ammunition, can stay afloat in a Mae-West if properly instructed, talks to walls.
2ND. LIEUTENANT: Falls over the doorstep when entering buildings, says "Look at the choo-choo, wets himself, plays in mud puddles, mumbles to himself.
SERGEANT MAJOR: Lifts tall buildings and walks under them, kicks locomotives off the track, catches speeding bullets in his teeth and eats them, freezes water with a single glance...
HE IS GOD.
10012967
He would have TRIED to back off, Laminia, recognizing the potential of the Alpha of the Species, would have said "Mine!" and The most Powerpuff Herd ever would have been formed
10013005
"What is "No", Alex?"
10013384
And if not, it should be
Except when the Cutie Mark Crusaders drove one of their cars into the lake.
It occurst to me that at this point, everypony must be blaming everything that goes wrong, every accident caused by a foal on the poor CMC. Because it will always be believed, and they seem to never really get seriously punished for any of it.
But if you aggregate everything they've done in this exile, three fillies couldn't possibly have done it all. Unless they've transcended time and space, and become Three-maned Trouble, incarnate.
10013304
Well they have in the show gone from paper billboards to tv screen ones possibly LED and the floats were powered by internal combustion. So they do have technokogy equivipwnt to the late 1990s its just not in use everywhere.
10012967
10013423
Chuck's actually a pretty nice guy, maybe a bit kooky with the religious beliefs but not the type to start a fight over them. Mostly because he knows he'd "win" but also knows it wouldn't prove anything because everyone knows that Chuck Norris versus most people isn't a fair fight. (Memes aside, he's earned six black belts if you count the one he got by inventing a martial art out of bits of the other five)
10013429
Are you saying they didn't?
never and i mean never piss off a pregnant thestral.
i love this chapter grate righting team.
(Later, at a military R&D lab.)
Navy Brass: Will you kindly explain to me how our best stealth gear was beaten so easily?
Scientist: Apologies sir. We never counted on someone with ultra sonic hearing.
Soooo happy this fic finally updated.
10013429
Well, their cutie marks do seem to indicate that they are the Pony Fates...
Poor, Nick, kidnapped in the prime of life. Along with Goose. Lamnia is going to kill him.
Well, he's not wrong. "Accidental diplomacy and/or defusing potentially explosive situations by exposing foreign personnel to diabetes inducing adorableness occasionally including foals" is technically a form of influencing...
10013294
Just so long as you have standards and you're willing to deal with parents who don't particularly like your occupation.
Oh, but so many of us want to be influenced! After all, only monsters can resist the adorbs!
Wait! Is that Captain America?!?
10012833
Happy (Slightly Delayed) New Year! :)
Yes, but you have to remember that the ponies are not of this world.
Not to say they don't have a variety of lethal abilities. And for all we know, they may be poisonous on top of that. (Though probably not venomous. Not in a biochemical sense. Pretty sure Laminia is worse than any cobra when it comes to long-range nastiness.)
In any case, looking forward to further mad escalation. The next two weeks will be quite the event.
I can clearly see the scene in my head. The patrol vehicle careening wildly on and off the dirt road, taking out mailboxes and narrowly avoiding other vehicles. The sirens, windshield wipers and headlights alternately turning off and on. The whole while, the voices of the three fillies are clearly heard from the car’s crowd control loudspeaker.
“Go left! Go left!”
“No! Go right!”
“Keep hitting them buttons an’ switches! There must be some way to stop this dang thing!”
“No way! The last time we tried that, we got Merle Haggard!”
“Ah happen to like... Look out!”
“AAAAH!”
“That was a close one!”
“Sweetie! Stop pressing that pedal!”
“I did stop! We’re still moving!”
“Scoots! Dodge the lake! Dodge the lake!”
“Try pressing the pedal all the way down!”
“But... OK... AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
“YEEEEEEEEEEEEHAAAAAAAAA!”
And for some reporters, honesty and integrity is more important than agenda.
*snerk* BWAH HA HA HA!! Oh, I couldn't keep a straight face there! Those god-damned muckrakers haven't changed since the Civil War Era when they were demanding Lincoln make peace with the South.
10015061 And the most deadly of all are highly camouflaged (sand viper, krait) or opaque (box jellyfish), or often hidden (cone snail).
Many of the brightly colored ones are actually just distasteful, especially insects.
Brightly-colored birds aren't toxic at all.
Many fruits are brightly colored when ripe to ENCOURAGE eating of them to spread seeds.
Poison arrow frogs are one of the few very showy animals that are genuinely lethal to the touch.
10015743
You forgetting monarch butterfly being poisonous. Or a number of fishes.
Warning coloring is just that - a distinctive factor that can be remembered
10016998 But it's not a hard and fast rule. Other colorful butterflies are completely non-toxic, and then there are the mimics, like the Viceroy butterfly, since you bring up the Monarch. The Viceroy caterpillar eats willows, sequestering the salicylic acid contained within and thus are bitter and can cause stomach upset in some animals that eat it (though not for humans! You can eat them to cure headaches!), but they're not outright poisonous.
The pattern tends to be more important than the color. It's the combination of both that seems to be the warning.
Nice update!