34. The People That You Meet
Farmer Bruener Has Some Ponies
The People That You Meet
“The human spirit is not measured by the size of the act, but by the size of the heart.”
― Yakov Pokhis
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Time: 7:30 P.M. Saturday June 27, 2015
Location: Highway 65 Southbound, Missouri
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“We’re doing a video log!” Widget bounced in her seat and mugged for the camera while Goose Down squirmed around to get in the seat beside her. Without the armor, the smallish mare could maneuver into the smallest of spaces, despite her large wings, but it still was a tight fit even if she was grinning more than her partner in equine crime.
“We have to check in with the mayor first,” chided Goose, finishing her wriggling in order to look straight at the camera Claire Bruener had secured on the tripod, but was interrupted before she could say another word.
“Are we on the air yet?” bubbled Widget. “I know you said you didn’t have enough bandwidth on the hotspot to do a livestream—”
“Just go,” said Claire, waving one hand for emphasis. “Eddie will edit out the awkward spots before he puts it up on the channel.”
“Okay. Okay. Oh-kaaaay!!” Widget waved frantically at the camera. “We’re going to Disney World and driving in this big Whinneybago only they won’t let me drive and seeing all kinds of things.”
“And we’re going through Missourah now, or Missouri or however you pronounce it because they say it both ways,” added Goose just as fast while fumbling out an iPhone. “I’ve got pictures of where we stopped at the Brass Armadillo only Claire wouldn’t let us buy an actual giant brass armadillo to take home so we bought a plushie—”
Said stuffed armadillo sailed through the air and landed on their table with a clatter of plastic claws, which Widget promptly turned around so its beady black eyes were facing the camera.
“Thanks, Karla!” Widget waved again and settled back down. “So we couldn’t stay as long as we wanted if we’re still going to make it to Disney World because we could have stayed days with the antiques.”
“And bought enough that we couldn’t take them all home,” added Goose with a superior sniff. “I restricted myself to a T and some fudge,” she added, straightening up so the camera could get a good look at her ‘Bats are my Spirit Animal’ shirt.
“They love bats here,” admitted Widget.
“And unicorns,” said Goose, giving Widget a quick head-rub and wiping her hoof afterward. “We still don’t have all the cotton candy out of your mane.”
“And we got squooshed pennies,” said Widget quickly. “There are squooshed penny machines everywhere, and they’ll help keep track of where we stop and stuff so Karla can finish her homework.”
“It’s important FBI documentation,” said Karla from out of sight. “I’m so far behind and was getting behinder before you two kidnapped me off on a trip to mouseland.” There was a brief pause. “Eddie, edit this part out of the video, okay? I don’t want to get in trouble.”
“Yeah, don’t want the world to realize that FBI agents are real human beings,” said Claire from behind the camera. “Relax. We’re going to see Elvis tomorrow.”
“Graceland!” squealed Widget. “I got to see one of his movies when we were in the hospital, the one with all the singing and colorful clothes and surfing and the little blue alien. I’d love to go see where they made it, but it’s over across the ocean and Goose can’t fly.”
* * *
“Nelson!” snapped Jan Schwartz. “Can we get them comped tickets on any of the ships going from California to Hawaii before the ponies go home.”
Nelson grabbed for his notepad among the mess in the middle of the conference table where the board of directors for Princess Cruise Lines had been taking a coffee break before diving back into their meeting. ‘Pony tourism’ had been a unanimous choice for viewing material, although many of the older members of the board only admitted to the video choice reluctantly.
“Star Princess leaves in two days from Los Angeles,” he said, scribbling a quick note. “If the ponies turned around now, did a Cannonball Run to LA, and we held the ship for about an hour or two, we might be able to get them on board, but it’s a fifteen-day cruise, and they’d get back to Kansas about a week after their portal home closes. And they’re serious about not being able to fly. Goose has some sort of acrophobia bad. My daughter follows everything they do online,” he admitted.
“Darnit,” growled Missus Schwartz while pulling out her phone. “Disney will probably monopolize them once they’re in the park. Let me see if we can’t work out some sort of pony-sharing so they can at least get a tour of one of our ships instead of— Hey, Bob. Jan here. Sorry about the hour, but it looks like the Terrible Two are headed to Florida, and I was wondering…”
* * *
Claire had to admit she loved watching the two ponies happily talk about the places they had been and driven by in just the last few hours. She kept the camcorder rolling until Widget gave her a wave and closed the video blog with a happy bubbling about Elvis, then clicked it off.
“I’ll upload it to Eddie along with the photos, and he should have something out by tonight for your mayor,” said Claire. “You two menaces go look out the windows and wave at passing cars.”
“Carefully!” added Karla from where she was scribbling on her notes. After checking her phone, she added a note that most probably read ‘Observed blog taping session’ before turning the page and giving out a low groan.
“Trying to remember where we were a few days ago?” prompted Claire.
“No, the FBI team back at the office put together a time framework out of all our video footage and Widget’s little bugs,” said Karla, rubbing her temples. “So all I have to do is think of something meaningful to write inside each half-hour section. By the time we hit Memphis, I should be caught up and ready to hand it off to the agents who are going to meet us at Graceland.”
“And FBI agents for the next century will be criticizing your spelling,” said Claire.
Karla quickly erased a word and re-wrote it. “Don’t remind me. I don’t write well when starving. Are we going to stop for something to eat!”
“There’s still some sandwich stuff leftover in the RV fridge,” called back Dakota from the driver’s seat. “Fix me a sandwich too, woman.”
“Give me the armadillo,” muttered Karla as Claire grabbed for it first. “Gimmie! I think I can hit him from here.”
“All right, all right!” Dakota peered out the windshield at the passing signs. “Anyplace in Ozark you want to stop? I’ll buy you real food, if you promise not to pelt me with stuffed animals or anything else.”
“Oh, I got this.” Claire slid into the passenger seat with her phone out. “Dad took us here once when we made a Branson run. It’s a couple of exits ahead, and should soothe the savage beast that FBI agents turn into after dark.”
Agent Karla Anacostia turned back to her late homework without a word, but acute ears could probably hear a low growl nearby.
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Time: 8:25 P.M. Saturday June 27, 2015
Location: Ozark, Missouri
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Lamberts Cafe was no stranger to famous people dropping by, since they were so close to Branson. Natasha was only famous by reference, but she was still friends with several of the employees, so she ate here whenever she got the chance, even if she still had to wait for a table to open during their busy times.
Famous aliens, however…
There was no trouble for the five travelers to get a table, because the waitstaff and the other customers were practically scrambling over each other to see them. Perhaps a little too eager, because if the crowd that quickly grew in their vicinity were not suppressed somehow, the ponies were going to starve and miss their trip to Disney World.
“People!” called out the young lady Natasha recognized as Claire Bruener, who had climbed up on a chair to get above the crush. “Chill, please. We’ll sign some placemats… And pose for selfies too,” she added, looking over at where Widget and Goose were mugging it up something fierce for an older grey-haired lady and her cell phone. “We just want to get dinner and be back on the road. We’re hoping to overnight in Memphis to get an early start on Graceland. They’re going to open two hours early so they don’t have to fight a crowd there either.”
Elvis had passed away before Natasha’s time, but she had visited Graceland several times, and the experience had been educational. Natasha had avoided the rush forward, because her younger years contained many good learning experiences on how famous people could so easily get overloaded by their fame. She watched the happy ponies over the last of her coffee while the crowd took pictures and drifted back to their tables, chattering about their brief moment of celebrity exposure.
It gave Natasha some time to make a few mental calculations as the waitress took the pony party orders and some sanity began to return to the restaurant. The distances and times for their Branson visitors all worked out, but in the direction of disaster. She just had to figure out who was in charge in order to bring up the obvious flaws in their travel plans. It wasn’t Goose Down, who had just bounded up into the air to catch one of Lambert’s famous ‘Throwed Rolls’ or Claire Bruener, who had encouraged the pony into her startling action. From what she had heard, the photographer was more of a bus driver, and the FBI agent was a bodyguard, so that left…
Natasha stifled a girlish giggle at how she would have reacted as a child if her father had returned from one of his many trips with a live pink unicorn instead of a plushie. Dad was going to flip. He knew just what it was like to be a foreigner with his own traditions coming into the strange but wonderful world of America.
* * *
“Hey, girls!” Widget bounded over to their table in slower, cautious hops than before. The tile floor had proven slightly treacherous to her normal bounds, and the plastic brace had kept her fall from injuring her ankle any more. Blue unicorn magic snagged a passing overhead roll and she dropped it on her plate as she hopped up into the bench seat. “I’ve got good news, and I’ve got not quite so good but not totally bad news.”
“Is it about Graceland?” asked Dakota. “Because I was talking to the Highway Patrol officers who have been tailing us—” he waved at a pair of officers at another table “—and they said there’s enough druggies out at night in Memphis that driving there and camping across the street from Graceland would be like waving a cookie in front of Widget here.”
“Wugmph?” asked Widget, who had managed to butter and jam her fresh roll on the fly and was trying to see how much of it would fit into her mouth at once.
“It’s going to be bad enough trying to stay on that dinky highway all night,” added Kota with a yawn. “I don’t want to be unarmed if we have to fight drug dealers for turf when we get there.”
Claire looked up from where she was signing placemats and passing them over to Goose for hoof-stamping. “Do you need a loan? I picked up my M&P when we were in Manhattan and stuck it into a drawer in the Winnebago next to my LCR. With all the ponies running around the farm, I didn’t want them getting into the wrong little hooves.”
Dakota pinched the bridge of his nose. “You realize Nick has tanks at the farm, right?”
* * *
Sergeant Spasowski heaved upward, dragging the kicking and struggling little pony out of the tank hatch and finally silencing the goose-like honk-honk-honk of the magical alarm. “Scootaloo, is it?” he asked, getting a wingtip to the face in return. “You’re too late. Nick had Specialist Epsilon drop by and put some sort of warning spell on each of the vehicles when they were transferred to the National Guard this morning.”
The little pegasus slumped and let herself be set down on the tank’s skirt next to her two accomplices without further struggling. “We just wanted to see how the big gun worked— ouch,” she added when Spaz flicked the end of her nose with a finger.
“No begging eyes,” he pronounced sternly. “Captain Rogers said he would be willing to show you kids some of the Army’s more polite toys over at the local firing range tomorrow, but one more stunt like this and the demonstration is off. And that includes trying to get into Mister Bruener’s gun safe again,” he added to the three of them with the wag of a forefinger. “Epsilon put a spell on it too. Guns are dangerous even when we know what we are doing. The vast majority of our training is to keep us safe when we are using our equipment.”
* * *
“They’re not my tanks,” said Claire. “But they’re my pistols, and I’d feel terrible if any pony got hurt with them.”
“Which is why I promised not to look at your guns without your direct supervision but that’s not the point right now,” said Widget in one long roll of words while waving her iPhone over her head. “I talked to the Graceland people and they didn’t like the idea of us parking the Winnebago there overnight either, but I met this nice woman here at the Lamberts and she said we could park at her father’s house in Branson since it’s already getting dark, and he would love to see us. And I didn’t want us to hit any deer in the dark,” she added with a nervous frown, most probably from the number of dead deer they had passed in the ditches on their way here. “So I have Mister Pokhis’s address in Siri and she says it’s less than an hour away.” Widget gave a little squeal. “Oh, it’s just like Twilight Sparkle, going to new places and making new friends!”
Several of those new friends tried to pay for their dinner at Lamberts, but Claire told the restaurant to apply the generous customers’ money to a rather large tip before pulling out what she was starting to think of as her ‘Pony Express’ card. It was an otherwise normal debit card, which was linked to the revenue generated by her videos and other elements of Widget and Goose Ltd.
A large name for a tiny limited company which was going to be dissolved in a week anyway.
After one final group selfie with the staff of the restaurant (and a doggie bag for the road), the mismatched bunch piled back into the Winnebago and headed south. The scenery was comfortably lumpy and green with sharp road cuts exposing the rocky underlayer of the Missouri landscape, which Widget tried her best to capture with her new video camera despite the oncoming darkness.
“I can take this home with me, right Claire?” asked Widget, clutching the camcorder after a particularly good shot of a natural landmark.
“As long as I can get a copy of the SD card inside,” said Claire. “I think there’s a lot of people who want to see your first reaction to our tourist stops, and what you think is most interesting.”
“Like all the places full of new cars,” said Widget, taking a picture of a passing car dealership. “You have so many cars all over your country, it’s like everybody has one.”
“Or two sometimes,” said Claire. “Oh, the turn is coming up.”
Two fascinated ponies watched the gathering darkness with house porchlights scattered around as Siri guided their path. Personally, Claire was glad Branson was not as ‘Hillbilly’ as the other sorority members from Chicago had thought when she had gone to college there a few years ago. It was amazing how hundreds of miles had turned Kansas and Missouri into one state in their teenaged minds, but then again, when Claire had gone to Japan as a high school student for a few weeks one summer, physical distance and social scale had been just as much of an issue. Rednecks in the country appeared to be a universal constant, in Japan or the US. Even Widget and Goose had social tiers to them, since Goose had been raised to be a proper Canterlot mare who obeyed her clan structure while Widget was an only child of country wagon mechanics, and displayed a glorious lack of sophistication at times.
It was difficult keeping both ponies in the video frame at the same time while the RV was traveling through an expensive housing development, but Claire was doing her best while Kota narrated for the blog.
“One of the locals offered us a place to park so we don’t have to drive through the Ozarks in the dark,” he said in his best voice. “Miss Anacostia checked him out online so we don’t have to worry about any stalkers.”
“He’s… not quite what I expected,” said Karla in the passenger seat, turning to look at the camcorder with a suppressed grin. “But I talked to my boss, and we decided this was about the best possible experience for our guests in the area. After all, he’s an immigrant from a foreign country also, with all kinds of stories about his experiences in America.”
“And an entertainer like Elvis,” said Kota as he turned on his blinker for a turn. “Just not quite the same.”
From her spot near the middle of the RV, Claire could not see what had gotten the ponies so excited, but when Dakota pulled the Winnebago up into the open driveway, it took a few moments to realize just exactly what was going on.
Underneath a paint-smeared bedsheet banner, there was a small but polite crowd waiting for them. It was only about a half-dozen people, which was probably about the best size for the two ponies. From the glittering outfits, several of them obviously worked at one or another of the Branson attractions and had dashed right over after their shows, but the short man up front with curly hair and a trim beard was instantly recognizable to all the humans.
The banner proclaiming ‘Velcome Pony’ with a red star in the middle only made it more obvious.
“Hi!” he called out as they came out of the RV. “My daughter, she called and said you were going to be staying with us for the evening. We would be glad to have you in Branson for the whole week, but—” he shrugged “—we understand the overwhelming appeal of long lines, crying children, and giant rodents.”
“Ah…” Widget gave a nervous look over her shoulder at Claire, only to have Karla hurry up to her side, looking as giddy as a schoolgirl.
“I guess some humor is not universal,” she said, sticking out her hand to be shaken. “Mister Pokhis, we’re honored to be your guests this evening. I didn’t tell Widget who you were because I thought it would be better for you to introduce yourself, so—”
“I’m Widget!” said Widget, who had regained a good portion of her original pep when the conversation turned in a familiar direction. “This is Agent Anacostia of the FBI, and Kota Henderson from the San Francisco Chronicle. My friend Claire Bruenner is running the video recorder, and Goose…” Widget looked around, not finding anything batpony-shaped in the gathering darkness. “She does this sometimes, because she’s shy around groups.”
“Is good to meet you, Widget. My name is Yakov, and I am famous comedian in America.” Yakov waited a moment of relative silence before continuing, “Apparently not as famous a comedian as I thought. Come, I’ll introduce you to the rest of my neighbors from Branson, and if you have a few minutes before you go to bed, we’d love to talk with you.”
Widget squealed and danced on her hooftips before following Yakov over to the rest of the people, who received her with open arms and a few girlish squeals of joy also. Karla closely followed, seeming just as fascinated by Mister Pokhis as the people were of having an actual talking unicorn as a guest. Claire followed last, turning off the camcorder so the ongoing informal chat would not be spoiled by being broadcast to their web audience later.
Which left Dakota stifling a yawn in the driveway. He had been driving fairly solid since they left Manhattan, and the idea of Ozark roads in the dark really… No. He was starting to think their idea of road construction was to follow existing cow paths and deer trails, because the roads always seemed to be going up, down, left, right, or some combination of the four all at once.
“Mister Henderson!” The tall lady from Lamberts hurried up to Kota with a quick look around. “I guess dad took our guest into the back yard to introduce them around already. I would have been here sooner, but I had to run an errand, and parked a few blocks away so there would be space for more cars. Some of dad’s friends are rotating through in small groups, because we didn’t want to overload poor Widget. I saw the way she looked during the President’s visit.”
“Some of your father’s friends from the entertainment industry here in Branson?” asked Kota. “Will there be banjos involved?”
Natasha stifled a chuckle. “Yes, it’s inevitable. If you’d like, I can set you up in the guest bedroom. You look beat.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” He touched his forehead in a half-salute. “I appreciate it. Just don’t let them take off tomorrow without me, please.”
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Time: 11:45 P.M. Saturday June 27, 2015
Location: Farmer Bruener’s Movie Pavilion — Randolph, Kansas
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Lieutenant Nicholas Comena of the Kansas National Guard (newly assigned) was unsure how he had been appointed Unofficial Equestrian Military Liaison Officer in the process of moving from Army to Guard. It had certainly been a far easier process than moving from the Marines to the Army, where each of the services had lusted after his body in different ways. 1st Tank Battalion would have been overjoyed to welcome him as a Marine officer, provided he met a long list of troubling qualifications. The Army was willing to poach him for OCS, provided he busted his ass and got his Business Administration degree. Making a move in the Army’s direction made the Marines suddenly decide that maybe he was worth keeping after all, and they promptly came up with a few tempting breadcrumbs of their own, although the Army eventually won the bidding contest.
There was none of that during an alien invasion. Lieutenant Comena signed one piece of paper that the top brass had produced, which instantly did everything, from uniforms to 401K straight to the National Guard. He was still a 2LT though. His pending promotion was most probably going to be forgotten in just under a week when the ponies all went home, and he would just have to struggle through normal Army paperwork for the rest of his career. The rest of his squad had teased him about writing a book, which would probably be easier than dealing with stubborn ponies for the rest of the week.
“No,” said Nick, bending down slightly so he could look his questioner in the huge mournful eyes by the dim illumination of the nearby walkway LED lighting. “I will not talk with the projectionist to run Apollo 13 again. It’s time to run Widget and Goose’s report about their activities before shutting down for the evening. Since most of you ponies are stuck here in quarantine, they’ve agreed to send us a status report to run after the movies are over. Why don’t you take the Apollo DVD downstairs in Mister Bruener’s house and watch it there?”
Cherry Berry scowled at the broad concrete wall that made up the outside-back of the Bruener Seeds warehouse, along with the flat slab that had once been a basketball court for the local children. “I just went there and asked. The kids took over the basement and are watching Japanese anime. The pony kids.” Cherry stopped and looked puzzled for a moment. “There’s something odd about them, though. I’m not sure they’re from Ponyville.”
“Oh, there you are!” Lucky came galloping up to them, displaying unexpected agility as he swerved around several ponies resting on beach towels to watch the evening entertainment finale. “Cherry, you left the house so quickly that Bon Bon didn’t catch you.”
He pointed one scruffy green hoof at the prim earth pony standing outside the Bruener house back door, who was wearing sunglasses despite the darkness.
“I want to watch the movie again,” said Cherry with a short stomp. “I just about figured out how they managed to get their space ship into a return trajectory.”
“Bon Bon will take care of you,” said Lucky with a nudge. He watched until the two ponies went into the house, then leaned up against Nick’s leg with a sniff. “New trousers?”
“New uniform, new everything down to my underwear,” admitted Nick, and as much as he wanted to scratch where the new clothes itched, he restrained himself. There were several static cameras pointing in their direction from across the dark field where the remainder of the new media was camping, and any awkward photos would be replayed ten thousand times on every TV screen in the country. “Looks like Clover conked out,” he said instead. “Ahh… young Clover, that is. How many time traveling kids you got in the house now anyway?”
“If I find out which pony taught my daughter time travel spells… Oh, I know who did it. Is going to do it. Whatever.” Lucky rested one hoof against his forehead. “The sole redeeming point in having that bunch of future troublemakers visit is that I know for certain that next Saturday is the end of our visit, because one of them let slip they had to scram once ‘Aunt Starlight’ showed up.” He started to frown. “I wonder if it’s fair to yell at her for something she hasn’t done yet.”
“I’ll miss you guys after Saturday,” said Nick with a short chuckle. He unfolded two lawn chairs and settled down as Lucky spread out a towel next to them. “I’ll bet you a dollar that Goose and Widget don’t get back by then, and you have to come back in a week or two so they can get pried loose from the east coast tourism industry. The President hadn’t even gotten off the ground before they were headed mouse-bound.”
“I… um… better not take that bet,” said Lucky as he settled down, getting Clover out to sleep at the far end of the towel. “Specialist Grace still hasn’t finished loading books on the Kindle we got as a present, and Mister Bruener says I can take his father’s whole library back with me when we go. I don’t think that will satisfy Twilight for more than a few months. It might encourage her. And if she gets here—”
“Mamma ain’t gonna leave without no fuss,” filled in Nick. “You think our media and politicians are going nuts now, just wait until they get royalty to pander to. Hey, Cap!”
The aforementioned Navy captain changed course and sat down in the offered lawn chair, passing over the red solo cups he was carrying. Any casual observer would never have been able to pick him out as Navy since he was wearing the same informal camouflage greens that the rest of the area seemed to have in such abundance. It would have been attention-getting if he did not have any rank or unit insignia visible, so in keeping with his unofficial status, Navy Captain Rogers was wearing the supposed rank of PFC in the Big Red One and also a grim expression visible beneath his billed cover.
“Comena,” said Rogers tersely once he was settled in his chair and arranged so anybody with a night telephoto lens in the distant press corral would have needed to see through Nick to get a good shot. “Lucky,” he added with a short nod to the green pony. The sleeping Clover, who was the one responsible for his presence here instead of still in his concealed location, was not referenced other than a brief glance and a softening of his serious expression.
“I hereby call this meeting of the Hindmost Puppeteer council to order,” said Lucky jovially after a quick sip of lemonade.
“What?” said Nick.
“Known Space series,” said Rogers. “Niven and Pournelle. The Puppeteers did not lead from the front, but from the very back. In this case, he’s right. I think we’re about as close to the back of this mess as possible. Any news from home, Lucky?”
“Specialist Grace has the new templates they’re going to use to set up the return portal on Saturday,” the pony said casually. “Twilight will be setting up a dimensional opening from her side, and the two will meet in the middle. She said it would be easy.”
“And you don’t think so,” said Nick, “or you wouldn’t have said that.”
“Some mountain tunnels on Earth are made that way,” said Rogers thoughtfully. “It takes a lot of accuracy. A lot more than your spouse has demonstrated so far.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” said Lucky in a tone of voice that indicated great insincerity. “So Grace and the other unicorns here will be using a set of magical templates that they don’t fully understand to go drilling through the dimensions in a direction they might not be able to control. What could possibly go wrong? So, anything new on your end of the world, Captain Rogers?”
Rogers was writing in a small notebook, and only looked up once he had finished his thought. “Washington has been under political pressure and is pulling out all the stops this week. The Admiralty had a conference call after the President’s visit and I got to listen in. On mute. Seems there is a contingent of political donors who are flexing their muscles. They talked about everything from cleaning up hazardous emissions after the ponies go home to ensuring our guests don’t get the wrong idea about how peaceful and non-violent humans are.”
Nick, who commanded a platoon of 21st Century war machines parked a short distance away, suppressed a snort of humor at the SEAL’s words by taking a sip of his own lemonade. “I see we’re going to be talking quietly to Sgt. Hardhooves so we can put together a private go-to-Hell plan in case the portal opening goes poorly. Your teleconference would have been a lot more frisky if you mentioned how you were going to give a gun safety class to a bunch of adolescent ponies over at the Fancy Creek range tomorrow.”
“No,” said Rogers. “Considering how certain congressmembers wanted all of the Ft. Riley officers court-martialed for showing the Equestrian military Victory Village a few days ago, not only no, but Hell no and no photos. The Senate Armed Services committee was on the call. A certain Senator from Hawaii wanted to know what nuclear defense measures might be needed to keep the ponies from swimming across the ocean and invading them.”
“Excuse me,” said Lucky, raising one hoof. “In your defense, I would like to point out that some of the nobility in our Parliament are quite probably dumber, and have suggested far worse ideas. Our country has probably a few more than a thousand Royal Guard. Inside a good day’s trot of here, I believe there are more than a thousand armed humans who go out once a year to shoot deer about our size, only not as colorful, and yet I am willing to bet cold hard bits that at this exact moment, a minimum of one of our nobility is proposing an invasion just as foolish.”
“Really?” asked Nick.
“Lord Trottingham,” said Lucky.
“Would you like to trade for one of ours?” asked Rogers.
“No,” said Lucky, “Because you offered so quickly, I suspect you have a list of them, and would help them pack. Will anything else from your conference telephone call affect us before we leave on Saturday?”
Rodgers made a sour face, but kept writing on his notes. “Not your people, I don’t think. Our military is going to catch it in the shorts. A committee will be redefining our rules of engagement down to what I suspect is ‘don’t shoot ever.’ Every action, no matter how small, will need to be evaluated by a committee with regard to how it will affect the ponies. The definition of ponies is even going to get an overhaul. Friendly non-aligned extra-dimensional alien something is as close as they could come during the call, but I suspect your end name will be unpronounceable. Half of the Senators think we should prevent you from taking anything home you didn’t bring, and the other half want to line up a bunch of semi-trucks filled with beads and mirrors. Oh, and there are a few who think we need to run a division of our soldiers through the portal the moment it opens, with your new shiny tank in front, Comena.”
“They should just binge watch Gate on Netflix. Apparently three wars at once on our planet aren’t enough for some people.” Nick considered the A/V station where they were trying to get Widget and Goose’s first nightly video to play. “I’d volunteer to go as a tourist in a moment,” he added. “Provided we stay away from a few of the dangerous places you mentioned, like the Everfree Forest and Parliament. Oh, wait. It’s starting.”
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Time: 9:00 A.M. Sunday June 28, 2015
Location: Moscow, Russia
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There was nothing Colonel Vaslov could do to accelerate the download process other than scowl at his crew of specialists, who had gathered around the Japanese big screen television with snacks for this morning’s first “Vidzhet un Gus” show. While they were waiting, one of the men looked up from his laptop and called Vaslov over to speak privately about what seemed to be bad news.
“What is it, Yuri?” he asked once they would not be overheard, or at least by the other men. “Did the contact you were placing in Graceland get caught?”
“Worse, Colonel. He was assaulted.” Yuri ran his fingers through his thinning hair and let out a brief Ukranian curse. “Hit on the head and all his possessions stolen. Their police have him in the hospital now. His identity should hold until he is released, so no need for additional resources to retrieve him.”
“That, at least, is good news. The Americans are so violent. At least they believe in doing our surveillance for us,” he added as the splash screen for the video showed up across the room. “I just wish we had some Russian resources watching our two wayward ponies. For their own protection, of course.”
“Of course,” agreed Yuri.
About thirty minutes later as they were watching the video of two happy ponies and a dozen Branson entertainers in somebody’s back yard, Yuri leaned over to his superior and asked, “Does Yakov count as Russian resource?”
“No,” stated Colonel Vaslov before pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. “What a country.”
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Time: 8:30 A.M. Sunday June 28, 2015
Location: Branson, Missouri
- - - - ⧖ - - - -
Dakota Henderson was having a very pleasant dream. Either that, or some warm woman had just crawled into bed with him and was running her short fingernails up and down his sides.
He opened one eye. He was not sleeping.
“Hey, Kota,” murmured Karla Anacostia. “You want to get up, or you want to get it up?”
It was a very fair question, and Dakota rolled over to answer it, although he did pull the sheet up over a very physical indication that showed what he was thinking about. It didn’t help that Karla was dressed as a Marine Playboy model, in little more than his faded Marine t-shirt and a shoulder holster, and looked delightfully damply rumpled in an early morning just-out-of-the-shower fashion. Thankfully, he was wearing his boxers, although they provided little more than token modesty at the moment. “I knew listening to you girls talk about sex all day while driving yesterday was going to come back to bite me.”
Karla bit him on the stubbly chin and wrinkled up her nose. “Those are things that will never make it onto ‘Out There With Claire’ or whatever she was calling her travel videos. This better not either,” she added with an additional stubble nibble. “The girls are out with our host to a traditional Branson Sunday church service. They were up most of the night chatting with the neighbors and being musically social, so I expect them to conk out once we start driving. So as much as I’d love to chase you around the bedroom this morning, you need to get showered and dressed so we can be on the road once they get back.”
It was a nice change of pace from Missus Formal FBI in public, and certainly a better way to wake up than a pony in the face. He rolled out of bed and scooped up his shaving kit from the bag he brought up to the room yesterday, although he paused before going into the guest bathroom.
“You know,” he called back over his shoulder, “the bathtub fits two.”
She threw a pillow at him.
And true to her prediction, an hour after they pulled out of Mister Pokhis’s driveway, Kota was the only awake person left in the RV, which was not all that bad. He got to listen to his country music and enjoy the scenery on the way to Graceland.
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Well, what other person from a foreign culture do you think would be most appropriate for Widget and Goose to meet while traveling through Branson, eh? (I considered Dollywood, but that's too far away for the travel time.)
I'm so confused, how did this road trip happen again? I dimly remember them hopping the Kansas-Colorado border to visit a hospital, and now they're somehow going clear to Disney World. Wut the zog?
I say, does Mr. Yakov know he's cameoed in a pony fic?
Oh boy, a chance to see how much firepower a tank platoon can unload when it really needs to. This should go a way towards swinging that pony/human awesome dial that people keep grumping about...
Given Twilight's record with new spells... I think those tanks should all be aimed at the portal just in case she unleashes an elder evil on Earth. Add in a bunch of other ponies and if somebody/pony doesn't make the suggestion I'll be very worried.
10566713 Last week, they hopped the Kansas/Missouri border headed east. Since most of the other ponies are quarantined for a week due to flea bites, and Widget and Goose aren't, and it's only 20 hours to Disney World, and they've got sunglasses, a full tank of gas... Oh, wait. That last bit is from the wrong movie. Anyway, Dakota has a RV, and they want to see the mouse before they have to go home on Saturday.
i.gyazo.com/fb5c4d446e0f2dc401eb5a944f6d7ac3.png
I was honestly going to email Yakov and tell him, but I froze up when it came time to actually use words. He still has his comedy show going in Branson so if anybody wants to attend and tell him, I'd appreciate it.
10566728
Ah yes. Well nobody ever accused me of having an overly-accurate memory.
10566713
10566726
And they're enchanted too. Sure, it's only an alarm now, but somebody in-universe is going to ask permission for a contingency plan.
10566695
Mrs. Parton would absolutely be on my list of "celebrities visiting ponies". She'd probably have half the Earth Pony seats in Parliament pro-contact and eating out of her (metaphorical) hand before you could say "sugar cube".
But that would be for another tale- which since we're seeing the Glimmer Express stopping here bodes very well for further contacts later.
In Soviet Union, you trap mouse.
In capitalist America, mouse traps you! :)
Naw. They should read Flash of Blades, Rumble of Guns, or Retreat, Hell instead. They are both far better in every conceivable way.
10566728
Aye. It would take at least 2.5 tanks of gas, considering how constant high crosswinds were buffeting literally all the way across Missouri (and Iowa) over the Thanksgiving travels, sending MPG plummeting. My shoulder is still killing me from having to keep a tense, tight grip on the wheel to stay centered in the lane the whole time for close to 20 hours driving time, total.
edit,
Confusing anti-inflammatories with analgesics.
10566728
I take it his daughter isn't actually a waitress in some random Ozark diner, though?
OK, that's a brick joke well-delivered.
O yep this is going to be interesting to see play out.
Is Widget a Third-Person Person or does she mean Goose?
I see your Gate and raise you the much better Outbreak Company:
Or VOTOMS if you still want a war show.
All things considered if you had to miss Manehatten... Manhatten, KS is a safer option than if they had hit the east coast Manhatten though people in DC would've probably preferred the later except for the highly nasty fall out that was more than likely
10567518 ME thinks Widget is slightly confused since she is obviously talking about "Lilo and Stitch".
10567582 Still in the list of 'alien' movies.
10567518 Oops, got it. Thanks!
10567480 Brick to the head!
10567469 We drove to Bronycon twice from Kansas, with quite a few detours from the wife. And we drove to Everfree NorthWest with other stops from her, including Mt. Saint Helens. Hint: The Columbia river is *HUGE*
10567212 Now you have me reading it.
10567203 And your money, too.
10567069 Be careful what you ask for.
10566713
Y'know, I would actually like to see that in a fic.
*Eldritch horror starts pulling itself through the mis-aligned portal*
Twilight: "Oh, that's not good... Sorry! I'll take-"
Soldier: "Princess... DUCK!"
*Tank platoon unloads a volley of high explosive*
Twilight: "Wowee! I guess that takes care of that."
Soldier: *thumbs up*
(Humanity! F*** yeah!)
I'm happy to see such classic Missouri institutions, such as Lambert's and Yakov being included. Although, it threw me off a bit, cause I thought the of the one in Sikeston first.
Fun Fact: The city of Branson was named after Rueben Branson, who was postmaster general and ran a general store in the area. He was also my great-gransfathers uncle (On my mothers side).
10566728
Of course, it's a short trip back if they go through Nashville and up through St. Louis. They could always swing through to check out the Arch. Of course, I am sure they would be invited to check out Busch Stadium as well, only fair after going to Kaufmann Stadium.
10567682
Ha! You have fallen right into my trap.
Two things: One, I *adore* the GATE reference (and as I started re-watching it last night, I was CACKLING about it)
Two? I love the fact even the Russians don't care, because 'Proximity to Cute' works so damn well even over video feeds and I'm fairly sure they'd feel bad in about twenty seconds if they tried ponynapping Widget because of said cute. And given said Russians likely have the video feed from when Goose got to cut loose, they wouldn't DARE in her case.
10567692
I always prefer the more "They balance out" approach where comparing ponies to humans. They can both handle the giant monster, it's just technique difference.
Of the stand by "Do not given Twilight access to high level tech, she'll create some Magitech monsterosity!" That way leads to spell casting cell phones and magic robots.
10567805
Been there, done that, thought about taking a selfie but fortunately had second thoughts. A later version was just an app that ran on a smart phone having multiple imagers.
Well this was a nice December present to wake up to! Though I'm honestly shocked none of the Ponyville residents are suggesting a half mile exclusion zone... And maybe a few more of those fantastic metal boxes we can all hide behind in case it all goes horribly right.
I can spot famous last words when I see them.
My heart has grown 3 sizes this year!
My doctor tells me I have 3 months to live...
Pfft, no they're not. That's like trying to convince me the CIA is NOT staffed entirely by Zuckerberg's lizard alien race.
And then the REAL ponies invade... THE DEMON PONIES WITH DIABOLICAL MIND MAGIC THAT TURNS EVERYONE INTO HENTAI ADDICTS!!
And that's when it's revealed that this was all Japan's clever ploy all along to defeat America!
10568106
Chekov said he wants his gun back.
Thank you for writing. :D
10567480
I didn't think she worked there?
"Natasha was only famous by reference, but she was still friends with several of the employees, so she ate here whenever she got the chance, even if she still had to wait for a table to open during their busy times."
Y'know, I may have shouted that to myself when I read Lord Trottingham's name.
It is good to see such worlds live on.
10566728
Y'know, with only a tiny course correction, they could swing through Huntsville, AL and hit the https://www.rocketcenter.com/ museum. Last I checked, they have at least one of the Space Shuttles and a SR-71 shell, along with a plethora of other rockets.
- I see what you did there.
If there's going to be a false start requiring Starlight's intervention.... Hrm, the shenanigans will be extensive!
Business people sure do think and act fast. At least faster than those FBI.
10569491 Yeah, I spelled her name wrong twice in there. Good catch.
10569711 The FBI is all about procedure and planning. Every step of their operations is documented to establish an unbroken Chain of Custody over the evidence they produce to the court. Well, in theory. Business is a matter of elbow-rubbing and instant decisions, although at the top of the chain there is also a paper trail of "describe just exactly what did you did to the court" tracking and running by of lawyers to prevent legal issues. So in all odds, her assistant is right now marking the exact time and date of the call on her calendar.
10569567 What could possibly go wrong?
10569286 There's always the return trip. And the Cosmosphere in Hutchinson already had an SR-71 along with Brian Shul (hey, as a Kansas native, I have to stick up for us)
10568701 I must bow at the hoof of the master, after all.
10568359 I have to shoot a few people first to make it count.
10568106 Would I do that? Again?
10568088 "So you want to buy...?" General Amstrad looked down at the paper with pursed lips, but Filthy Rich finished his sentence.
"Old tanks," said Mister Rich. "In particular, your decommissioned M-113 Armored Personnel Carriers. I was going to market them as mobile shelters in case of monster attack from the Everfree Forest. Your army doesn't use them any more, and they don't have any weapons, so..."
"Certainly," said the general, who did not look it, but had a Masters in Business through Yale. "Tell me, how much does aluminum sell for in Equestria? Because an M-113 is about ten tons, and half of that is aluminum. That wouldn't have anything to do with your request, now would it?"
10569917
Let’s see this is set in 2015 so The Chieftain’s Inside The Hatch should have been running for a couple years at this point. I wonder if any of the ponies will ask the tankers if they want help with track tensioning?
10569985 Marked down for a future Widget and Goose expedition to the great Pacific Northwest when they visit The Flying Heritage museum.
10569917
That’s actually a good leading question! If a civilization has a spell that can partially transform a frog into an orange, would it have developed equivalents to the Hall–Héroult and Bayer processes? For all we know, Equestrians use rhodium foil to wrap sandwiches with simply because it looks nicer than alumin(i)um foil.
10570058
Don't forget there's also the Pima Air & Space Museum in Tucson, along with Davis-Monthan AFB which houses the single largest Military Aircraft bone yard in the world, which houses some of the rarest birds in the US outside of the Smithsonian... As well as the former Titan Missile Facility about a 20 minute drive south of said museum. Should also point out it is the largest non-government funded Aircraft museum in the world. I mean, I gotta stick up for my state here, pride is on the line!
10569917
Statue of Limitations on that for you is three days, so, yes, possibly twice in one week.
I can't help but imagine this becoming a tradition: The Twilit Pilgrimage, traveling to exotic places and befriending exotic people. Staying in Equestria's universe is wholly optional, of course.
I'm imagining a Jaegermonster welcoming committee. The actual result was almost as good.
Oof. Clover and friends brought a whiff of 2020 with them.
... I don't suppose there's any Lovecraft in the Bruener library?
Always good to see more of this, even if I did take my time to get to it.
Let's see how much everyone can fit in before that predestined time of departure.
I'd say I want to see Lord Trottingham somehow end up stranded on earth, but he'd probably end up as a lobbyist.
Well luckily this isn't our dimension in the present day or they'd be very dissapointed by what the Disney parks have become
I feell Claire is underestimating the size of that company...by a lot.
I hope nothing goes wrong with the second opening.
I suspect politicians on both sides are both overestimating and underestimating the other side. Then again the princesses have already being wandering around taking steps to protect their little ponies.
I'm quite happy about this development between Dakota and Karla. Thanks for another fun update.
10571778
... You know, I can absolutely see this happening. Heck, isn't this what Starswirl ended up doing in the show?
Ahhhhhh!!! BAD TASTE!
I don't remember that part? Hmm...🤔
Looks like the circus continues, but who is actually in charge of which rings, and who is handling side showss and concessions.
And just whats been contracted out for clean up.
So, I just realized this is one of those fics everyone claims to hate - you know, where the ponies go to Earth and make friends and have a wonderful time, surely you've heard the people complaining about how generic and dull they are.
Well, this just goes to show that even a generic, boring concept can be spiced up into a whale of a tale with a little thing we call imagination.
You being of advanced age means your life experiences combined with your accrued education makes the storytelling deeper and richer, more realistic.
I didn't read it, but as one craftsperson to another, atta boy and well done. Also, I wanted to see if you were waiting for someone to figure out the in-joke, if that was an intentional injoke on your part.