Worlds Apart

by Elkia Deerling

Chapter fifteen: Democracity

Triggerhoof flew as fast as he could. He guessed he had been flying for about a day through the foul, radioactive air. It was now late afternoon, and the faint glow that gave away the sun was starting to settle in the west.

Triggerhoof chose to fly to the northeast, making sure to stay away from the crater of Aurora city. As soon as his Geiger counter started clicking, he would veer off further to the east until it went silent. He knew he was wearing a lead-lined, protective suit, which should theoretically allow him to venture far into the Aurora crater; the largest hotspot in the state. But he didn’t. Under the motto ‘better safe than sorry’ he stayed clear of the radiation. He knew he was overreacting, but nevertheless, he flew as he flew—out of the radiation.

He did notice something peculiar, as he approached the threshold of the Aurora crater. As might be expected of a crater, it should have looked like a valley, a large, man-made, radioactive valley. But there was something sticking out of that valley. Had some building miraculously survived the atomic blast that incinerated houses and people and everything else? Was something still standing?

The permanent, greenish mist that always surrounded the crater made it impossible for Triggerhoof to spot the hardy building below. But he didn’t care. He had to get to the American base and find his friends, not go sightseeing on Ground Zero. And besides the fact that he really wanted to see the general again, Trigg had another important thing to tell the American soldiers: the changelings.

As he flew, Triggerhoof kept thinking about the changelings which had come from the metro tunnel. He had seen firsthand how powerful those monsters were. They were almost impossible to kill. According to Princess Twilight Sparkle, only magic could take them out permanently. They could pose a real threat to the American army. Because, where there’s one, there could be more.

General Johansson had once told Trigg about the vast, underground metro system. Apparently, Aurora city had been famous for its safe and comfortable public transport, which made sure that everybody could go everywhere. If those tunnels were all connected with each other, then the changelings could also go anywhere they wanted. Thinking back to the strange, upside down membranes he had found together with the heat seekers, Triggerhoof concluded that the changelings had made the metro system their home. If they really reproduced themselves underground, then who knows how many are skittering and skulking underneath Ground Zero? For all Triggerhoof knew, there could be a whole army underground, waiting for an opportunity to strike the unwary. No, Triggerhoof had to alarm the Americans.

On his journey, Trigg flew over a forest. It looked untamed and dense. The trees closest to the Aurora crater were just black, scrawny toothpicks, devoid of any leaves or needles. It looked as if a scar ran through the forest, and as if the forest retreated from the irradiated crater. Triggerhoof couldn’t blame it. Yet, despite the forest’s revulsion to the Aurora crater, it stood its ground bravely. The trees looked a healthy green, and the leaves rustled in the wind. Triggerhoof wondered if there were still animals living in it, oblivious to the fact that mankind had destroyed itself with atomic bombs. If anything, the nuclear holocaust had been good for the animals, as they could now go wherever they wanted without having the fear of getting shot and eaten.

“They are reclaiming the land taken from them,” Triggerhoof said to himself. He had heard stories and seen pictures of how the world used to be, and he had seen that the role of animals in it was nihil. But now, the animals were the ones most capable of surviving. They survived, while the rest of humanity tore at each other’s throats.

The forest shot by underneath Trigg’s wings for a long time. It truly was enormous. The GPS system sent him further northwards. He should be close by now, but Trigg couldn’t possibly imagine an American base this close to such a beautiful, untamed piece of land. Yet, his assumptions were wrong.

Something strange came into view. It looked like a tower, but at the same time not. It looked more like an hourglass than a tower. The thing was gigantic, and spiraled up into the air, where it was topped off with clouds of white smoke. It was at that moment that Triggerhoof knew he had found the base. Where there’s smoke, there’s people.

Triggerhoof searched for a high spot to oversee the base. He chose a rocky hill. Landing, he checked the outcropping on its stability, and then he let his eyes feast on the facility below, and be amazed.

The base looked like a whole city. It wasn’t just a bunker, but also a facility, and the tower belonged to it. Triggerhoof racked his mind to remember what humans called it. Was it ‘powerplant?’ Triggerhoof concluded that whatever was going on inside, it must be important. There were tubes everywhere, running through metal brackets all over the building. Triggerhoof could see soldiers everywhere, walking over suspended catwalks and over the concrete area surrounding the base. They were well armed, wearing combat armor, helmets, and carrying large automatic weapons. Whatever was going on in that building must be important to them. There was a chain link fence around the perimeter, snaking around the whole area and disappearing behind the building. At some places, the fence was reinforced with metal plates, and gates had been made, with machine gun nests nearby.

Suddenly, the light came. First the searchlights flickered to life, but then other lamps started shining too. The sight of the illuminated facility made Triggerhoof gasp. There was light everywhere! For Triggerhoof, it truly was a spectacle, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. A breeze blew. Trigg saw the American flags waving in the wind. He knew there and then that this was where he was supposed to be. This was his new home.

At last, when the sun was below the horizon and the moon took its place, Triggerhoof found himself able to look away. He wanted in, so badly. But, as General Johansson had advised him, he wasn’t going to enter the place without some proper intel. He took to the skies, made sure to fly high so no one could spot him, and observed the base from a different perspective. That was when he saw them.

On the other side of the power plant, a whole battalion of helicopters stood, neatly arranged next to each other. There were two dozen of them, maybe more, and some of them even had two rotors. A metal wall was built around them, and colored lights marked the different landing platforms. Lots of soldiers patrolled the area, and with good reason, Trigg thought. No one would be so dumb as to leave a treasure like that unprotected.

He had seen pictures of the machines soldiers use to fly around to do recon missions or to destroy a target. But seeing them in real life was enormously different. They looked even bigger, even deadlier, even more impressive than in the books. For a moment, Triggerhoof truly felt jealous. If only he would have had one of those machines when the changeling attack started… He could have shot Chrysalis right out of the sky, and make the changeling army burn with missile fire. He nodded. Maybe they do stand a chance against the changelings…

There were trucks and jeeps as well, neatly arranged on a parking lot, but those looked puny compared to the helicopters. With a sigh, Triggerhoof realized he had seen enough. This army looked orderly, mobile, powerful. This base looked impressive and unconquerable. Triggerhoof couldn’t wait to swoop down and enlist. He wanted to be part of this superior force, to fight side by side with General Johansson for this glorious army and for this glorious nation. He wanted to devote his entire life to this army, and pledge his iron allegiance.

So what was the best angle of approach? Triggerhoof concluded that it would be at one of the gates. He flapped his wings, steering towards the main gate. Slowly he landed, filled up with excitement. He walked towards the gate.

A cry resounded. Searchlights swiveled and cast their rays upon Triggerhoof. He narrowed his eyes to slits to be able to see, but he couldn’t see much. Didn’t matter. He was dealing with soldiers, so he hadn’t expected a warm welcome anyway.

“Halt!” a voice said. “Don’t move a muscle.”

“I’m here to join you!” Triggerhoof shouted. “I want to fight for you!”

“Throw your weapons on the ground and approach—slowly.”

That was what Triggerhoof did. He unstrapped his two guns and let them fall to the ground. Then he walked towards the gate.

It opened, and a squadron of six soldiers appeared. After a quick search, they escorted Triggerhoof inside. They kept throwing glances at him, as they guided him towards the building.

“Another horse,” one of the soldiers said to an other. He spoke softly, but Triggerhoof could still understand him. “That’s pretty curious, isn’t it?”

Before someone else could answer, Triggerhoof asked, “What do you mean ‘another horse?’ are there more Equestrians here?”

But the soldiers didn’t answer, and stopped talking altogether.

They passed another metal door. Behind it, there was a concrete staircase leading down. At the bottom, it branched off into some hallways.

“We’re taking you to Admiral Montgomery,” one of the soldiers said to Triggerhoof. “He will see if you can be an asset to us or not. And anyway, I’m sure he would like to see you.”

Of course I can be an asset, Trigg thought, but decided to remain silent.

As they walked through the hallways and rooms, Triggerhoof noticed something strange. Beside the soldiers, there were people in lab coats scurrying about. Triggerhoof got a brief flashback to the day he entered that hospital. The men and women in lab coats had clipboards or stacks of papers in their hands. They looked a little out of place, but somehow Triggerhoof had the feeling that they belonged here as well.

Another door appeared. They went through it, and entered yet another hall. Two of the soldiers left through a door, while the other two remained with Triggerhoof. The soldiers asked him to take off his suit and his gasmask. Then, they sat him down on a bench.

A few moments later, the door opened, and the soldiers reappeared with two other persons. One was a man, broad shouldered and wearing a neat soldiers’ uniform. Many medals hung from his chest, and many stars shone on his shoulders. Admiral Montgomery.

But Triggerhoof’s attention was drawn to the other person. Next to the admiral stood a pony. She was an earth pony, light brown with a straw-colored mane in a short model. She wore a soldier’s uniform as well, but had adorned it with some purple. Her cutie mark was a golden trophy. She looked stiff and stark, both in her movements as in her facial expression—and so did the admiral.

The soldiers next to Triggerhoof stood up and saluted. Trigg decided to do the same.

“Well, well, well,” Admiral Montgomery said, “another horse indeed.” He nudged with his head towards the soldiers. “Dismissed.”

Once again the soldiers saluted, and then retreated the way they came.

“I knew this day was going to be interesting, even though it is already over,” Montgomery said. He reached out a hand. “My name is Admiral Montgomery, and this“—he gestured to the pony—“is Miss Harshwhinny. And you are…?”

“Triggerhoof,” Trigg said, returning the handshake.

“Very well.” A curious smile appeared on the admiral’s face, breaking his serious expression. He turned around. The same smile didn’t appear on Miss Harshwhinny’s face. “Follow me, Triggerhoof. Let’s have a private chat.”

The admiral’s office was big compared to Johansson’s. At the far end were some chairs and a desk, and the rest of the space was taken up by art. Where Johansson’s office had been dedicated to all things military—maps, charts, strategies, photos, newspaper clippings—Montgomery’s office was dedicated to the fine arts. There were paintings and sculptures on either side of Trigg. He watched them with a strange curiosity.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Montgomery said, sitting down in his chair.

“Where’s the intel?” Trigg asked.

“The ‘intel,’ is where it belongs, in thebriefing chambers,” Miss Harshwhinny said. Her voice was haughty and formal, and not very pleasant to listen to. “In one’s personal space, there is only room for things that ease the mind.”

Triggerhoof shrugged, and walked to the last remaining chair.

Admiral Montgomery took a minute to look the red pony over. His eyebrow slowly went up. Folding his hands together, he said, “Tell me something about yourself, Triggerhoof. What brought you here to Democracity?”

And so Triggerhoof told the admiral everything. He talked about Crossroads, about the Heat Seekers, about the attack of the changelings. When he mentioned them, Miss Harshwhinny stiffened. For a moment, Triggerhoof looked through her mask, and spotted bafflement—maybe even fear. But she said nothing, so he continued. When Admiral Montgomery asked Triggerhoof how he found out about Democracity, he showed him the tape recorder. Naturally, Montgomery took a listen.

As the last words of General Johansson flowed out of the recorder, Admiral Montgomery eyed Triggerhoof, and slowly nodded. “That’s quite an interesting story you have there, Triggerhoof. I can only say that I am glad you want to join us. If the Heat Seekers were only half as capable as you described, then you must truly be a great asset.” He paused, and cleared his throat. “Yes, the exploration of the other states had made us stumble upon your little bunker. We took everyone in. And, I am pleased to say that they are all here, alive and well, working for the American military.”

“General Johansson too? And Doctor Goodman?” Triggerhoof asked.

“He said everyone,” Miss Harshwhinny said, looking annoyed.

Triggerhoof perked up. A smile appeared on his stubbled muzzle. “But that’s great! Can I see them?”

Rummaging in her saddle packs, Miss Harshwhinny got out a clipboard and eyed it for a moment. “General Eric Johansson is currently on a mission, and Doctor John Goodman is on duty in the medical bay. You may speak to them later.”

Trigg didn’t like the tone of that pony. He realized that she must have hated him from the start. He couldn’t guess why, but he also didn’t care. His smile disappeared and he gritted his teeth. “Fine.”

“Triggerhoof, could you tell us more about these ‘changelings?’” the admiral said. “I want to know more about the nature of the enemy we’re dealing with.”

Nodding, Trigg began to explain. “From what I have seen of them in combat, they possess magic, and can launch a great amount of deadly energy towards a target.”

As Trigg talked, Miss Harshwhinny took out another form, put it on her clipboard, and started to write.

“Magic, you say…” Montgomery said. He turned towards Miss Harshwhinny for a second. When she nodded, he looked at Trigg again. “Anything else I should know? Anything that would help our soldiers fight against them?”

“Yes, sir. They can fly, and have a poisonous bite.”

Admiral Montgomery winced. “Sounds nasty.”

“It gets worse,” Trigg said. “They are immune to bullets, and maybe explosions too. They attack in numbers. But the worst trait of them is that they can shapeshift. They can disguise themselves as one of your soldiers, and infiltrate your ranks.”

Frowning, Montgomery said, “That is very disturbing. We should make up a codeword which we can use to identify ourselves, and maybe we should start coding our messages. Could you write that down, Miss Harshwhinny?”

“Certainly.”

“I’ve got one more thing to say, admiral,” Trigg said. “I came here not only to reunite with the people to whom I swore my loyalty, but I also came to warn you. These changelings breed underground, in the metro tunnels. Most likely an attack will come from underground. I don’t know how many they are. Perhaps there are thousands of them already.”

The admiral stroked his chin with his hand. “I see…”

When Miss Harshwhinny was done scribbling all of it down, she tapped the admiral on his shoulder. “Regarding this pony, admiral”—she cast a disdainful glance at Trigg—“I say let’s put him with X-ray squad.”

The way she was speaking about him sounded as if she was working with a mass-produced object. And besides, Triggerhoof didn’t like the name X-ray. He didn’t address Miss Harshwhinny, but turned his attention instead to the admiral. “Can I ask what my main objective will be, sir?”

Admiral Montgomery looked at Miss Harshwhinny.

“X-ray squad is tasked with hunting in the forest, to provide us with rations for the soldiers,” she said.

“Thank you very much,” Admiral Montgomery said. “I think that is an excellent suggestion. That way, Triggerhoof will get to know how we operate, and he will get used to our soldiers.”

Triggerhoof didn’t quite agree with the admiral’s plan. Hunting in the forest sounded boring. He’d much rather clear out a communist compound or retrieve a high-priority component. The hunting mission sounded so… easy. Triggerhoof was a Heat Seeker, not some greenhorn rookie soldier who doesn’t know which end of a gun kills. But of course he couldn’t go against the will of a superior. Therefore, he said simply, “Yes sir.”

The admiral turned to Miss Harshwhinny again. “Miss Harshwhinny, could you perhaps settle the paperwork and make sure that the proper gear will be given to our newest recruit tomorrow?”

“Yes, admiral,” she said. She turned around and headed for the door, but not before smiling an uptight smile at Triggerhoof. The feeling of dislike was mutual.

Once the door closed, Triggerhoof couldn’t help but ask, “If I may ask, sir, what is the story behind Miss Harshwhinny?”

“Well, she came in here just like you, and she joined our ranks just like you. We were quick to recognize her sublime skill at organizing, so I made her my personal accountant. If there is anything wrong, then go to her and she will fix it for you with the right papers.”

I highly doubt that, Trigg thought.

“Do you have any more questions, Triggerhoof?” Montgomery asked.

Trigg had a million questions to ask him. About this base, about the army, about his friends, about this world, about the war against the reds. But he somehow had the feeling that he would have to discover the answers to those questions himself. That’s why he said, “No sir.”

“Then you’re dismissed, soldier. Go get some food and meet your commander at the briefing at 9:00 sharp. Make us proud, pony.”

Triggerhoof saluted. “Yes, sir. I will, sir.”

**

Triggerhoof would never go against the commands of a superior officer. But he wanted to see them—so badly. Of course, he didn’t believe one word Miss Harshwhinny said, so he therefore concluded that Doctor Goodman and General Johansson were somewhere in the facility. After a bit of asking around, he got the location of the soldiers’ quarters. They were, just as in Crossroads, close to the surface, so the army could mobilize and react to threats on Ground Zero as quickly as possible. At first Triggerhoof thought he was lost, as he ended up seeing more and more lab coats around him. There were rooms with beds and lights and surgical equipment, and offices, loads of offices. The sound of typing was everywhere. Triggerhoof was in the medical bay.

“Raspberry? Is that you?!”

Upon hearing his name, Triggerhoof swiveled his ears in the direction of the sound. He had just enough time to turn his head and see Doctor John Goodman, before the man embraced him.

“Raspberry Trick, my God, you are here!”

“Indeed I am,” Trigg said. With a simple shift of his weight, he escaped the hug. They looked at each other for a moment. “How? Where? Why?” The doctor had a lot of trouble keeping himself from hugging the pony yet another time and never letting go. But he managed to keep himself in check. Doctor Goodman gestured with his hand. “Let’s go inside. I have a lot to tell you.”

Trigg followed him. Goodman’s office looked just like his office in Crossroads. He was a creature of habit. Triggerhoof expected Goodman to sit down in his chair, but instead, he turned around, closed the door, and locked it.

“Expecting trouble?”

Goodman took a seat, and motioned for Trigg to do the same. “Raspberry, oh, Raspberry,” he said with a sigh. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

“Why not?” Trigg said. “The place looks good.”

Doctor Goodman rubbed his face with his hand. “It isn’t, Raspberry. It isn’t.”

Triggerhoof ignored Goodman’s statement. He wanted some answers now. “What is this place anyway?”

Goodman put on his glasses again. “A nuclear powerplant. Heh, it’s quite ironic that the thing that almost destroyed us all helps this base to live, isn’t it?”

“A nuclear powerplant,” Trigg repeated. That did make sense. A powerplant which had been spared from the atomic annihilation would be a very valuable target. He was glad the Americans found it first.

“Yes.” Goodman looked left and right, as if the walls could eavesdrop on what he was about to tell the pony. “But that’s not important. What is important is that you have to get out of here.”

“But why?”

“Because things are bad here,” Goodman said. “We are with so many… and the leadership here is in military hands.”

Triggerhoof tilted his head. “But that isn’t bad, right? Surely the military knows how to handle things.”

Slowly, Doctor Goodman shook his head. “They don’t. They prioritize military targets over everything. They prioritize their soldiers over everybody else. They get the most spacious quarters, the most food…”

Triggerhoof wanted to object, but then he noticed that Goodman might be telling the truth. The man swam in his shirt, and his lab coat hung over thin shoulders. His cheeks looked hollow.

“They are so busy with their war against the reds, they forget about the people who run things here,” Goodman said. “There are too few scientists here. The scientists that are here are working almost twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Already there are rumors about a revolt circling around.”

“A revolt?” Triggerhoof raised his eyebrows. “Against all of the military personnel here? Heh, fat chance.”

“That’s right, Raspberry. Things are bad here, and a revolt will get everyone killed. No one will be better off. I don’t want to see such a bloodshed. We have to do something!”

“But what about the hunting parties?” Trigg said. “I got assigned to one of those when I arrived here.”

Goodman threaded and unthreaded his fingers. “I don’t know about those, but somehow there is always a shortage of food. After the military personnel has eaten, there is barely anything left for the scientists and doctors. Maybe the hunting parties aren’t that successful, or maybe the military is stockpiling the food, keeping it away from us. I simply don’t know. You have to ask Johansson about that.”

“He’s here too? Where?”

“Just a few hallways away from here, but Raspberry, please stay for a while. I want to know what happened to you. Why didn’t you come back from that mission Johansson gave you?”

Triggerhoof really wanted to go to the general, yet he knew that Goodman deserved to know what happened to him. He told him about the changeling attack quickly, leaving out many details he had told Montgomery. But when he began about the changelings, Goodman interrupted him.

“What?! Changelings?!” he almost fell out of his chair. “How is that possible?”

Trigg shrugged. “Dunno. They were there, and they wiped us out. That’s all I know.”

Goodman pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Well, that’s quite curious…”

“Can I go to General Johansson?” Trigg said, already standing up.

Goodman raised his hands. “Raspberry, please, wait.”

Trigg turned around. “What is it?”

“I’m just… I’m just glad you’re here, and alive.” Goodman looked at the floor. “Although I’m sorry you arrived at the wrong time at the wrong place.”

“We’ll see about that,” Triggerhoof said. “I’ll make sure to bag as many animals as I can. Tomorrow, you’ll have a feast. I guarantee.”

“Could you do me a favor, Raspberry?” Goodman asked.

“If you call me by my real name, you can.”

“Please, keep an eye on the military. The scent of mutiny is in the air. And… and keep an eye on the food too. I want to know where all of it goes.”

“Roger that,” Trigg said, and disappeared through the door.

As he walked through the hallways further into the base, Triggerhoof became absorbed in his thoughts. If it was true what Goodman said, then he might find himself in a civil war soon. And then he had to choose sides. Of course he couldn’t choose now. First he had to see for himself if the military really malnourished its inhabitants, and discriminated the scientists. He had to see for himself if they really hid the food away, for fear of running out. Triggerhoof wanted to find out the truth.

Maybe Admiral Montgomery’s warm welcome was a little too warm…

More and more soldiers were walking through the hallways. Trigg knew he was on the right path. It didn’t take him long to find mess halls, equipment storage, and even a shooting range. The sound of gunshots was a beautiful melody to his ears, every different gun adding its own melodic layer of barks and bangs. Instantly, Trigg felt home. He knew he would run into the general soon.

But instead, he ran into Miss Harshwhinny. Triggerhoof had been so lost in thought, that he hadn’t spotted the mare. Now, they were almost muzzle to muzzle. “You’re going with me,” she said, and the tone of her voice indicated that ‘no’ was not an option.

Triggerhoof didn’t want to make any trouble, so he shook off his surprise, and obliged. They entered a room which was probably a briefing room, judging by the chairs and the projector screen. Miss Harshwhinny closed the door. Then she turned around, and fixed Trigg with a stare. “The admiral doesn’t take kindly on soldiers who disobey his command.”

“How do you know?” Trigg said with a snort.

Miss Harshwhinny waved her hoof. “We have a wonderful army of security cameras everywhere. Some are visible, some are not. And I happen to have authorization to see whatever I want to see.”

Triggerhoof grunted. He didn’t like being watched. “So now you’re the admiral’s spy too?”

Miss Harshwhinny adjusted her purple scarf. A content smile appeared on her lips. “In a certain way, yes.”

“So why are we here, huh?” Triggerhoof snapped.

Miss Harshwhinny’s smile disappeared. Her eyes went cold. “I just wanted you to know that total obedience is required to earn our trust. So far, you have done little to prove your worth.”

“So that’s why you hate me?” Trigg concluded.

“Not in the first place, but yes. You could say so.”

“Then what is the reason in the first place?” Trigg said, his rough voice sounding like a smoldering fire.

Miss Harshwhinny met his words with her cold stare. “You came from the outside. You came from Ground Zero, therefore, you can’t be trusted.”

Trigg didn’t understand. “And what has coming from Ground Zero got to do with being untrustworthy?”

“I have seen first hoof what happens with men in that wasteland. Ground Zero changes them, turns them into the worst versions of themselves just to fight and live another day. They would backstab and eat their own children if it allowed them to lengthen their miserable lives. You come from Ground Zero first, and Equestria second. I mean, look at you.” She waved a hoof at Trigg.

Trigg followed her hoof to himself, but he couldn’t spot anything peculiar.

“Look at you,” Miss Harshwhinny said. “All covered in scars and with those hard eyes and a harder voice. I bet you are a far cry from the pony you once were in Equestria.”

“Equestria is dead.”

“However much you can deny it, ‘Triggerhoof,’ you are from Equestria. You were once a brightly colored, cheerful pony, and not the ruffian you are now. Tell me, how many lives have you destroyed? How many ‘confirmed kills’ are on your name?”

Triggerhoof wanted to say something back, but couldn’t come up with any words.

Miss Harshwhinny closed her eyes and nodded. “That’s what I thought. You have lost count, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Trigg said through clenched teeth. “But every kill was necessary.”

“How?”

“Because I kill for a cause. I kill for my friends, so they could live another day. I kill for them so they survive in this Celestia-forsaken land. Hell, I flew all the way from the other side of the crater just to see them again. I’m not just a dull-witted raider, Harshwhinny. I am a soldier, and soldiers fight for something, they swear an oath and are only relieved when they die. There’s more to me than meets the eye, Harshwhinny. Now, are we done?”

Miss Harshwhinny was silent. She narrowed her eyes, giving Trigg one last, vicious stare. “I believe we are. Now go to your ‘friend’ General Johansson. He’s on the shooting range opposite of this briefing room.”

“Do you have cameras there?” Trigg bluntly asked.

“Yes, but I promise I won’t spy on you. Call it a token of my trust.”

Triggerhoof left the briefing room with a grim smile on his stubbled muzzle. He knew he had won the argument.

As soon as he entered the shooting range, he saw that Johansson and he were the only two persons there. Johansson was shooting an assault rifle. When he paused to reload, Triggerhoof stood next to him. “General Johansson, sir,” Trigg said, and saluted.

Johansson stopped reloading the gun, put the magazine down, and gazed upon his lost soldier. “Triggerhoof!”

Triggerhoof smiled. “I found your message, general. I came for you.”

With an open mouth and big eyes, Johansson said, “That’s great! I’m glad you’re here.” He stuck out his hand, and shook hands with Trigg. “It’s an honor to have you back on the team, Trigg.”

“And I’m looking forward to serving under you again, general.”

Then Triggerhoof told Johansson all about the mission and the changelings. He told of the bravery of the Heat Seekers, and how they fought till the last man.

“So.. they’re all gone? Simon, Amanda, Brockheart, Andrei?”

“I’m afraid so, sir,” Trigg said.

The general took off his beret. “They will be missed.”

“But they will be remembered,” Trigg added.

It was Triggerhoof’s turn to ask questions. Was the military really priority number one? Was there really a famine?

The general answered ‘yes,’ to both questions.

“But that’s so strange,” Trigg said. “I can’t wrap my hoof around the fact that there’s so little food. What about trade? Surely there must be some trading outpost nearby.

“There is,” Johansson said. “I’ve never been there myself, but I have heard stories from soldiers who accompanied the trading parties. It’s supposed to be a big hub somewhere to the west. According to the soldiers, the entire Ground Zero comes there to trade. There are reds too.”

“Reds?”

“Yes, and they are the problem. We constantly have to raid other military bases in the area to keep ourselves fully stocked. But the reds, they apparently have ammo and guns enough. All the traders there want either pre-war money, guns, or ammo. Sure, we have some guns and ammo, but the reds always outbid us, snatching away all the food in front of our very noses.”

Trigg scratched his stubble-covered chin with a hoof. “I see… But we have a forest nearby, right? So there should be a lot of food coming in from the hunting parties. But Doctor Goodman told me barely anything comes in. I just don’t get it! We should be able to hunt well; we’re a goddamn army! Well, I guess I will soon find out why, because I got assigned to a hunting party.”

A sudden gasp came from Johansson. “They assigned you to X-ray squad?!”

Trigg nodded.

Johansson rubbed his head with his hands, and looked with wide eyes at Trigg. “Then you should be careful, Trigg.”

“Why?”

“Because that squadron is doomed,” Johansson said. “Every day they go out to hunt in that infernal forest, maybe two dozen men, sometimes even more. And every day, just half of them—or even less—return, with barely any game.” Johansson crouched down so his eyes were level with Trigg’s. He grabbed the pony’s shoulders. “Something very strange is going on in that forest, Triggerhoof. Whatever it is, it is deadly and cunning, and able to kill our well-trained professionals. You should be very, very careful, and watch your back.”

Trigg wanted to scoff and tell Johansson that he didn’t believe in ghost stories, but the general’s expression looked dead serious. He looked at Trigg as if he were seeing a ghost right now. So Trigg just nodded. “I will watch out, sir.”

“Good.” Johansson still crouched, and looked Trigg deep in the eyes. “I don’t want to lose you a second time, Triggerhoof.”

Then Triggerhoof asked Johansson some more questions about the state of Democracity, and got many answers to his questions. The military was well aware of a possible riot, and made sure to keep every weapon they had safe. There were the occasional screenings and interrogations, to flush out any renegades. Upon asking him which side he would join, Johansson shook his head. He didn’t know. Most likely, when shit hit the fan, he would look for another base.

“But the army here looks so good and well-equipped,” Trigg said. “They even have helicopters!”

Johansson shrugged. “Well, helicopters aren’t worth a damn if there isn’t any food to feed the pilots. There are a whole lot of other American bases on Ground Zero.” He patted Trigg on the back. “Don’t worry, Triggerhoof, we will fight for America, one way or the other.”

That statement eased Trigg’s mind. Johansson hadn’t changed; he was still the patriot he used to be. “We will fight for America,” Trigg repeated.

**

With the sound of screeching metal, the gate opened. X-ray squad was quite a big hunting party, with about two dozen soldiers. They were all equipped with shotguns, to take out birds and small animals like rabbits; and sniper rifles, to kill big game like wolves or bears. Triggerhoof himself wore his familiar harness with his combat shotgun on one side, and his assault rifle on the other.

They moved through the gate, walking in tight formation. Every soldier was able to see one of his squad members to the right, and one to the left. The men seemed nervous. On their way to the forest, they sometimes stumbled over rocks or gaps in the road. They all reckoned they were going to die. Survival in the forest, apparently, depended on luck and luck alone.

But Triggerhoof wasn’t nervous; he was curious. He was curious to know what exactly happened in the forest. He didn’t believe in ghosts, and he knew everything could be killed eventually. There were probably just a few bears or a packs of wolves which stalked the area. Whatever the true reason was, Triggerhoof would find out soon. They reached the forest.

It truly was as dense as Triggerhoof had seen from the sky. The first few hundred yards were relatively flat, but soon there were massive trees and dense shrubs all around him. Triggerhoof looked up. He couldn’t see the sun. Not even the watery haze that made desperate attempts to penetrate the radioactive cloud cover could be spotted. It was almost as dark as the night.

Triggerhoof looked left. There was a soldier. Then he looked to the right. Another soldier. It was strangely quiet in the forest. The only sounds were the huffs and puffs of the soldiers, as they marched through the dense vegetation, the sound of snapping twigs, and the rustling of the vines. There wasn’t even wind. The temptation to take off his gasmask and sniff the healthy forest aroma almost made Triggerhoof reach for his mask, but then he remembered why he wore it in the first place. The forest was close to the Aurora crater. The burnt part of it was just a mile away to the east. Radioactive particles could be anywhere in the air.

Triggerhoof watched his Geiger counter. He didn’t need to worry; the needle was almost at the very bottom. Theoretically, he could take his gasmask off. But of course he wasn’t going to do that. No way!

They came upon a grassy clearing, and when Triggerhoof looked, he could see three soldiers far. The squad was still complete. After a hill, they plunged back into the dense forest. The undergrowth changed. Where before there had been ferns and other leafy bushes, now there were brambles which hooked itself to his protective suit whenever Trigg stepped forwards. Flapping his wings, he started hovering in midair. He smiled a thin smile, as he saw that the soldiers were looking at him in silent awe. They had seen a pony before, but they had never seen a pegasus before.

A gunshot shredded the silence apart. Trigg jolted at the sudden sound. The soldiers left and right from him stopped. In the distance, a flock of birds soared into the air. Trigg nodded. Somebody is getting lucky…

He wanted to move on, but a second gunshot echoed through the forest. By the sound of it, Triggerhoof guessed it was a sniper rifle. Maybe someone shot an elk.

Another gunshot. Another flock of birds took to the air. Triggerhoof was feeling increasingly jealous. They were shooting game, and he hadn’t encountered a single animal yet. Sometimes, life on Ground Zero seemed so unfair.

Suddenly, there was a whole cacophony of barking guns. Five, six, maybe seven guns Triggerhoof could hear. Was everyone that lucky but he?

But Triggerhoof didn’t need to worry, because the shooting soldiers were far from lucky. More guns fired. The sounds became mixed with yells here and there, and they weren’t animal cries. They were the cries of men fighting for their lives.

Triggerhoof landed, and stuck the feathers of his wings through the trigger guards. If something showed itself, he would be ready.

He caught a dark shape in the corner of his eyes. Trigg turned around and fired his shotgun. He hit only empty air.

Directly after the shot, a terrible shriek cut through the air, making the symphony of disaster complete. When Triggerhoof blinked his eyes, the soldier to his right was gone.

He looked to his left. The soldier was still standing. Something came from the shadows of the bushes. Triggerhoof wanted to yell and warn him, but it was too late. The dark shape pounced on the soldier and pinned him to the ground. Then, a strange red glow appeared. It was as if the soldier was being leeched until there was nothing left of him. He kept screaming and screaming. His torture didn’t seem to end. His arms and legs flailed around, and then dropped. He was dead.

Before it took to the sky, the creature that had attacked the soldier turned its head towards Triggerhoof. Cold blue eyes glimmered for a second. Then it was gone.

But Triggerhoof had seen enough. More cries echoed through the forest, as more changelings found their prey. The hunters had become the hunted. Triggerhoof needed to get out of the forest. To him, the mission was aborted. The squad leader was probably dead anyway.

Triggerhoof ran. He didn’t fly, because he wanted to keep his guns at the ready. He knew bullets couldn’t harm the creatures, but he wasn’t going to go down without a good fight.

The leaves rustled to his right. Trigg turned around, and fired his shotgun. A changeling tumbled out of the bushes, dead.

So apparently bullets can stop them…

Trigg moved on. He charged through the brambles and jumped over tree trunks. Sometimes he looked back to see if he was being chased. The sound of the screams went fainter and fainter. That could either mean that Triggerhoof was making progress, or that there were fewer and fewer soldiers left alive.

Thanks to the cries of help, he didn’t hear the skittering of the changeling’s wings. A changeling dropped from the skies and on top of Triggerhoof. He went down, but managed to change his fall into a small roll, shaking the changeling off of him. When he jumped to his hooves and leveled his shotgun, the changeling didn’t stand a chance.

BLAM! Off went the changeling’s head.

A grim smile played upon Trigg’s lips. He having fun with this.

From a small bush to his right, another changeling appeared.

“Whoa!”

This changeling was easily twice as big as the ones he had shot. Besides that, it was wearing red armor, and its horn curved upwards through a helmet, covered in spikes. The changeling hissed, creeping closer.

Triggerhoof wasn’t dumb. He knew that this changeling was different from the others. He reached back, and grabbed his knife in his hooves. He narrowed his eyes. “Come on, then!”

The changeling charged towards Triggerhoof. At the last second, the pony rolled aside, and jabbed his knife towards the monster’s knees. He hit home. Green fumes escaped the wound, and green droplets oozed down upon the ground.

The changeling let out a shriek. It limped, as one of its legs bore a nasty cut. Instead, the changeling fluttered its wings and took to the sky. It turned around, and narrowed its icy eyes towards Triggerhoof.

Trigg searched for the thickest tree he could find, and positioned himself in front of it. Once the changeling would charge at him again, he would once again roll to the side, and the changeling, carried by its momentum, would crash into the tree. A simple plan, and maybe a cliché, but clichés work.

With wild flaps from its big, translucent wings, the changeling charged towards Triggerhoof. But the moment he wanted to roll aside, the changeling stopped, landed, and swiped its tail at the pony. Trigg’s legs were swiped away from under him.

Triggerhoof smacked to the ground. His knife flew out of his hooves, and landed with a clink somewhere in the foliage. When he gazed up, he looked right into the soulless eyes of the changeling. Even though its eyes were blue, they radiated such hatred and fury that Trigg thought they could turn red any second. His view became blocked by two enormous fangs, the size of a strong soldier’s hand. The changeling struck.

“Not this time!” Triggerhoof planted his hind legs to the changelings belly, and bucked for all he was worth. The changeling didn’t expect such resistance from its prey, lying on the ground helpless. But not so helpless after all. Triggerhoof rolled and kicked the air, jumping to his hooves. His wings curled around the triggers of his assault rifle, and he fired.

He kept shooting and shooting at the changeling. Bullet cases flew everywhere. Trigg screamed as he let his gun roar. The changeling was already in the air again, shielding its body with a wing. Trigg knew that the things were hard to kill with bullets, but he had to do something, and he had dropped his knife. He stepped closer and closer to the changeling, until he was at point blank range. He aimed for the eyes, the head, the vital parts of its body. Only when the magazine of his assault rifle was empty and his gun clicked instead of roared, Triggerhoof stopped yelling.

The changeling unfolded its wings. A pile of lead had formed around its hooves. Trigg’s effort was useless.

But the changeling was tired of the gun. It jabbed its horn towards Triggerhoof, who barely managed to dodge the move. Instead, the changeling sliced the leather strap around Trigg’s barrel.

Trigg looked, his eyes full of surprise, as his guns clattered to the ground and the changeling tossed them away, all in one fluent motion.

Now he was defenseless, and out of weapons. For moment, Triggerhoof just stood there, gazing at his enemy. He could bolt off into the foliage and try to find his knife. It was the only option he had. Trigg shook his head and ran for the shrubs.

Concentrating, the changeling charged up its energy lance. Its horn glowed with an unearthly light. Crackles of electricity and raw magical power emanated from it.

Triggerhoof looked up, and shielded his eyes from the light. The next moment, his world exploded.

He felt the white-hot lance burn his skin and singe his mane. Trigg cried out, but it did nothing against the pain. It felt as if he were cooked from the inside. The boom that followed the flash shredded his ears. He thought he would never hear again. He fell down to the ground. It was over.

The changeling panted a bit after such a powerful attack. It fluttered downwards, and slowly walked towards the fallen pegasus.

Triggerhoof knew he was defeated. His barrel hurt, and he could smell the scent of burned hairs. He saw the changeling approaching. But even though he was in terrible pain, he still wasn’t going to go down without a fight. As much as it hurt, he rolled over, trying to get a look on his enemy.

The changeling approached slowly, still eyeing its prey suspiciously, wondering if the pegasus had another trick up his sleeve. As it opened its mouth, some bullets dropped out of it and fell on the ground. The changeling’s tongue appeared, and it hissed in delight. An Equestrian pony should have a lot of love in him. When the changeling reached Triggerhoof, it rolled him over until he was lying on his back. The changeling opened its mouth, and began to feed.

At first there was nothing in Trigg’s mind. The past years, his years on Ground Zero, had left him with little love or affection. Of course, there were the Heat Seekers, Goodman, and Johansson, but those were just comrades in arms. The changeling dug deeper.

And there it was; Trigg’s memories about Equestria. Trigg could feel the changeling draining away everything he loved. The archery club, Nockle Stringer, his parents Building Block and Carrey, his friends from the club. Every positive memory disappeared into the changeling’s open mouth. All those ponies were gone in the blink of an eye, as if they never existed in the first place.

But the changeling wanted more. The green haze started to change color. Now it was red, and Triggerhoof could feel that something else was being drained out of him now: his vitality. He felt every scar on his body open up into the fresh wounds they once were. He felt the pain of a thousand battles skin him alive. He saw things that would make even the bravest soldier cry in agony. And lastly, he felt his life force disappear.

Must… do something… Thinking was hard, as every thought got sucked away from his brains. He forced his eyes to move, and spotted his weapons lying beside him.

Slowly, his shaky wing traveled to the trigger of his shotgun. Slowly, it slipped through the trigger guard. Slowly, it curled around the trigger.

BLAM!

The shot didn’t hurt the changeling, but it made it stagger backwards, breaking its spell. Triggerhoof slumped down. Darkness descended upon him. He tried to keep his eyes open, but it cost him as much effort as moving a mountain. The last thing he heard was the sound of glass breaking, a strange sound in a forest. A grey mist formed around him, and he wasn’t sure if that was his failing eyesight or that there was actually a mist in the forest. The grey faded to black. The blackness slowly overwhelmed him. But strangely enough, there was also white. Black and white were the last colors he saw, before the pain faded and his eyes left him in the dark.