Holes in Hearts
RAF LINTON-ON-OUSE, UNITED KINGDOM
250009ZJUL30:
The room was cleaner than anything he’d seen in years, “Starswirl” mused. Certainly cleaner than the shitholes that had been his life since Decimation. It was, from floor to ceiling, pure endless and unadulterated white – so blinding that he briefly wondered if this was some sort of new, unique torture that the Americans had developed. It was certainly possible, but he was also sure that once they saw what he’d brought them, they’d deal in good faith – they had no idea what else he had, even if he didn’t have anything else.
After all, what he did have was enough to get him and Zlata out of Hungary and onto a US aircraft. They’d both been blindfolded and separated, but as far as he could tell, they were treating him with kid gloves. He’d read the tales of what happened when the US military got out of hand and while they certainly weren’t as rough as his own forces, military personnel with ideas of sadism and a penchant for hurting things tended to get creative in the way many people didn’t appreciate. And in today’s desperate times, there were a lot of “creative” individuals out there.
As for now, he sat on a white plastic chair in the featureless room, wearing an equally luminescent white jumper the soldiers had given him, bored as hell and waiting for whatever came next. Right now, he could use a smoke, a drink, a fuck and then maybe cuddling with his Zlata afterwards. He knew he was probably going to have to give up the former, and those last two were part of how he’d gotten into this whole mess in the first place. Besides, he had promised himself if Zlata gave birth to a girl, he would make sure she would never date the kind of man he was, so like it or not, he would have to be one of those squeaky-clean dads they used to show on television when he was a kid.
Just then the door opened and two people came in: a young woman with piercing purple eyes and purple-and-teal hair pulled back into a braid; she wore a military uniform that bore no rank, unit identification or even her name. Next to her was a severe-looking middle-aged man wearing a well-tailored suit – and that was more than enough to tell Syhareta exactly who he was dealing with: The woman was obviously military intelligence. The man? CIA.
The woman sat down in front of him, pulled out a tablet and looked at him. «Good afternoon, Sr. Soldier Syhareta.» The woman gave an impish smile. «Or do you still plan to go by ‘Starswirl’?» He gave her an odd look and she smiled once more. «While we’re told your English is commendable, we thought you would feel more at ease talking in your native language.»
He sat back in his chair, surprised. «I…uh, appreciate that.»
The woman nodded. «Good to know. In any case, I’m an intelligence analyst with the Office of Naval Intelligence. You may call me Gleam. This man here is ah, Mr., ah…Pineapple?» The other man nodded briefly and the woman continued. «Yes. Mr. Pineapple. Anyway, he is here from a…let’s just call it a ‘concerned party’ and leave it at that.»
«I know the CIA when I see it,» Syhareta commented.
«That’s good to know, because I can tell you that Mr. Pineapple is not CIA. Can’t tell you anything beyond that, but I can tell you that much.»
“Pineapple” looked at Syhareta, holding the disc the angel had given to him. “Explain how you got this,” he said.
«You can explain in English or Ukranian. We don’t mind,» the woman added helpfully.
Syhareta went over everything in detail, pointing out things he hadn’t told his earlier captors. Things he hadn’t even told Zlata. He only knew that he had to say something, to get the angel’s words out. She had saved him for this moment – she needed him to get the world to pay attention so she could do more to save them. The brilliant angel from beyond had reached out to a sinner like him to be a saint. He could do nothing less.
“We tried, you know. We tried to have our people fire that strange gun you brought in,” Pineapple said. “Hell, we couldn’t even turn off the safety. It’s like the entire gun is set for your biometric pattern and yours only. Then that became clear from the schematics. It even shows how to turn it off on other guns…but curiously, not on yours.”
«The angel said that gun would be mine and only mine,» Syhareta stated by way of apology. «I have done as she asked. I only now ask that you protect my wife, for she is pregnant. You may do with me as you wish.» He hadn’t planned to say that last part; it was pretty much an admission that he was a deserter and some of his countrymen would even consider him a traitor, given the situation. They would feel the gun should be for the Ukraine’s glory, to give their nation an edge against the world once the war ended. But Syhareta wasn’t stupid. The plans had to go to a nation that would be able to produce the weapon in enough numbers to turn the tide, or else there might not be a world for anyone to gain an edge.
Gleam and Pineapple looked at one another, and then back to him. «I have…sobering news for you. As of two hours ago, the last known unit of the Ukranian Ground Forces fell. Russian forces were able to push back the Octos before they could destroy Chernobyl, but they are reporting a complete loss of ground forces. The unit that had been there, the last of the Ukraine’s known forces…have been wiped out. I’m sorry, Sr. Soldier Syhareta…Mr. Syhareta. You no longer have a nation to go back to.»
Syhareta’s jaw hit the floor. As someone who had been forced to join the army, he had hated it…but in the end, had found camaraderie within. He had wasted his life on drink and Zlata’s thighs…until she had become more important to him than anything else. The angel had changed that for him, had saved him when so many others of his countrymen had died. And now they were gone and he and she were all that were left.
He wanted to feel something – rage, sorrow, shame. But he couldn’t. It wasn’t as though he had just heard something that was of no importance to him; he didn’t feel that way and even if he did, he knew Zlata wouldn’t. But something in him had changed, and the land he had come from was no longer a part of his life, as if he had climbed over the old Berlin Wall when it still existed, now and forever to be an exile to the west. Though he had joked about it, it turned out that he was more like Starswirl from the old novels and movies – an exile from his old lands, bearing incredible power, destined to fight against a terrible force determined to snuff out the world.
The writer he used to be would have laughed, taken another shot of vodka and then continued on with his work.
The soldier that he was now could see the symbolism in a way that he couldn’t so long ago.
Pineapple looked at him. “You have two choices. The first is that you return to the Ukraine. The Russians have set up a temporary government and you will likely be working with them until either the Ukraine can stand up once more—”
“Or until Russia annexes my homeland again,” he said in English. “I remember what happened back in 2019, and the only reason it didn’t happen in full is because of Decimation. And now the Russians get it by default.”
“The other option,” Pineapple stated, “is that because you brought us the plans, the United States government is willing to offer you and your wife asylum. Perhaps in another time, we would have called it defection, but you can hardly run from a country that no longer exists, can you? In return for working for the US government, we will set up you and your family to live in the United States.”
“My grandparents were KGB defectors back in the 80s,” Gleam admitted; as proof, she pulled out a Russian medal; the cloisonne green-and-red enamel shone in the light. “This was my grandmother’s Excellent Border Troop 1st Class medal. It, and my grandfather’s matching medal, were the only things they brought with them when they crossed over the West Berlin checkpoint in 1981. Obviously it was a whole bunch of different circumstances there – the world was nearly at war with itself rather than an actual war from without – but the same courage and sacrifice existed. And they chose to make that call for the sake of the world and the sake of the son and daughter they would have. A choice that in the end, led down to me.
“I consider myself incredibly lucky to be both American and of Russian descent. I am lucky that my grandparents’ decisions informed my father’s choice to join the Marine Corps, and ultimately, mine to join the Navy. And I am grateful that they loved us – even when we didn’t exist back then – to make the difficult choice to continue to their new world, even without knowing how they would fare. And while I’m no clairvoyant, I think that someday your grandchild just might feel the same way I do.” She gave him an earnest smile. “The choice, of course, is yours.”
“If I may…what happened to your grandparents?”
Gleam smiled widely. “Thankfully, they both survived Decimation. They both wanted to gun up and join the US military, but even they know they’re too old. So instead, thanks to some connections they had, they run the USO office at New Chicago Airport in Gary, Indiana, making sure that US and Canadian troops can contribute to the fight. They might be old and gray, but they’re not the kind that give up that easily,” she said with a laugh.
Syhareta thought about it for a grand total of two seconds. There was, of course, no point in thinking about it. The choice, after all, wasn’t his. It wasn’t Zlata’s. In the end, the choice was for his unborn child – and the ones that would come after.
“Will we be given new identities?” he asked, the die cast.
CANTERLOT, COLORADO
241821TJUL30:
To label the central station of Canterlot ornate was, Applejack mused, like calling an aircraft carrier big – the word didn’t quite explain the whole of what you were seeing. Based roughly after the great European subway stations, Canterlot Central was more like a museum than a metropolitan transport center, offering some of the most beautiful sights to be seen in this part of the Rockies. Featuring white marble walls, a ballroom ceiling, chandeliers with warm lighting, ornate glass pillars and a massive mosaic mural dedicated to the sons of Canterlot who fought during WWII, it was often considered one of the most beautiful stations in the US, if not the world. It had been built in 1908 as a overexpensive boondoggle by the then-mayor of Canterlot, trying to keep the capital of Colorado in Canterlot when many people wanted it to be moved to Denver. The “world-class eyesore”, as many Denver newspapers of the time put it, worked and was instrumental in keeping the state capital in Canterlot.
At least until Decimation, she noted as she walked through the area, though Tammany Hall got his wish: since Denver didn’t survive Decimation either, it didn’t get to become the capitol when Canterlot fell.
She looked around and saw the station, once grand and glorious, now reduced to a shell of itself. While the place still stood, beautiful and ornate, its luster was marred by the various equipment, supplies, emergency cots and various other things of life as the war continued. Beauty only held reality in place for so long, and in the end, ugliness always won.
“You know, I remember reading about this in my high school art class,” Tempest told Applejack. “Saw a few pictures but didn’t think it was this ornate.”
Fluttershy laughed. “Speaking of pictures, did you know that during a short period in 1967 it was illegal to take pictures in here? The mayor at the time was running for governor and was hoping to win the Most Beautiful City in America award that year as a hope of boosting his chances of winning the election. Well, he didn’t want anyone to steal ideas from the station, so he made it illegal. Eventually, some hippies got the idea and came down and started taking pictures in droves; the police ended up writing dozens and dozens of tickets, but it didn’t matter. Eventually, the city lost the award to Salt Lake City that year and with it went the mayor’s political ambitions. Soon after, he lost his reelection for mayor to the first female mayor of the city and the first thing she did was to repeal the unpopular law.” The woman smirked. “That’s why the Counterculture Garden, an avant-garde statuary just outside the station at the Starbloom Ave. entrance, is dedicated to her.”
Tempest shook her head. “Weird as hell.”
Applejack spotted a number of familiar and some unfamiliar people in the distance, walking towards them. “Okay, game faces, people,” she said. At that order, the SEALs went into a ready mode, looking somewhat relaxed yet prepared to gun up at a moment’s notice.
As they approached the oncoming group, Flash waved to them. “Everything’s safe. They’ve locked down the place here and there’s been zero signs of Octo intrusions. If they know this place is here, they clearly don’t think it’s important enough to attack,” he told the others. “And with that, I think more than a few introductions – and reintroductions – are in order.”
As old acquaintances were rekindled, friendships remade and new alliances forged, Applejack looked around for a particular face. The face would look different, sure, but she knew her sister. And if there was any chance that Apple Bloom was alive, she had to do something about it. Their family needed to heal itself and the only way to do that was to bring Apple Bloom home, even if only for a little while.
“Something up, Cmdr. Apple?” one of the guys, whose name she couldn’t recall, asked.
“Yeah. I’m looking for my sister, Apple Bloom. I understand she’s the senior engineer here and I thought that she would be part of the welcome team, given her seniority.”
Before the man could speak, Luna said, “I’ll handle this, Quartzheart.” As the man deferred to her, Luna looked at Applejack, eye to eye. “Things have changed, Jackie,” the older woman stated. “I know you know that more than anyone, but the women that were once the girls of the Canterlot Movie Club are far different than what you remember. I know that you left home under…less than pleasant circumstances, and I know that Bloom did the same. You both went in the same general direction but took far different paths. And the path that she’s chosen to take means that she might not be ready to see you anytime soon.”
“I understand that, Luna, but I promised my brother that I would try to get her to go home, if only to heal family rifts that are long overdue. Does she know that she has a sister-in-law now? A niece and a nephew? That Mac’s eternally regretted the fight that sent her away from home?” The SEAL rubbed her temples. “It was hard enough for me to find the courage to come home and to be honest, I was willing to die alone somewhere in a forgotten place rather than do it. Now? I wish I had done it sooner. And I want to tell my sister that I still love her before it’s too late.”
“I’ll talk to her as soon as I can,” Luna promised, “but I can’t guarantee anything.”
“I appreciate the offer.”
“You’re risking your life to bring Canterlot back from the ashes. It’s the least I can do.”
RAF LINTON-ON-OUSE, UNITED KINGDOM
250602ZJUL30:
“Mr. Pineapple” sat in the waiting room by the tarmac, watching as the aircrew prepped the C-37A for return to the US. At the moment, he drank from a cup of coffee, feeling rumpled and spent. He was too old for this sort of thing, and if the world had taken a different path, likely he would have put in his retirement papers by now. In fact, he could see himself now, just puttering around the house like a retired old git with nothing better to do with his life while his wife, the mayor of the town they lived in, wreaked administrative havoc on the forces of paperwork. She was just like that, and part of the reason why he loved her so.
“A tired man is what I see,” a voice said, “whose endless work keeps us all free.” He looked up and saw a familiar face, equally lined with the cares of worry and metaphorical mileage. He also remembered the face when they were both younger: honey-dark skin, expressive cyan eyes and salt-and-pepper hair that she’d had her entire life.
To him, she was still beautiful, even if he’d married someone else and her life had gone in a different direction. Another part of that “if the world had taken a different path,” he mused.
“Well, I was wondering when you would show up,” he said with a grin.
She sat down in the chair next to him. “The infamous Black Plant expects a call, when I might not even be there at all?” she laughed. “Perhaps you forget – intentionally so? – that for King and Country I often go.”
Firelight, GEN, USMC, better known as “Black Plant” to those in the espionage community, faced his counterpart: code name “Rhymer”, of His Majesty’s Security Intelligence Service, better known as MI6. He had met her when the NSA had assigned him as liaison to MI6 back when he was just a young second lieutenant and they had a whirlwind romance that had been ended due to their conflicting loyalties. But that didn’t mean the fondness went away.
“Hello, Zecora. What brings Liverpool’s most beautiful lady to see me off at the airport?”
“Hullo, Fire,” she said with a smile. “I would have offered to take you out to breakfast before you departed. I know a lovely little place that serves the best fry-up in the area.”
“Alas, I wish I could, but I need to be back at the Mountain for a debrief the moment we’re wheels down in Leesburg,” he told her. “Perhaps some other time?”
She favored him with that smile that he knew she gave only to him. “Perhaps next time you’ll bring Stellar with you? I don’t believe we’ve traded all the stories we have about you just yet.”
“All the more reason to make sure I keep you two as far away from each other as possible,” he said with a weary grin. “But I take it you aren’t here to plan your next vacation.”
Zecora shook her head and instead pulled a manilla envelope from her purse. “This is all the information that we were able to get from the FSB liaison. Apparently they’ve heard about your little traveler and, while they can’t lodge any sort of official protest, they’ve decided to be petty about confirming any of the intel sharing requests the Mountain and MOD Corsham have made.”
“Even when they know they’re going to get something out of it the Russians can be petty,” Fire sighed. “Small wonder my parents bailed. Anyway, I see you got the information.”
Zecora nodded. “Ironically, due to you: your name carries some weight amongst the FSB diehards and especially amongst those who aren’t willing to play petty games when the fate of the world is at stake.” She gave it to him. “The long and the short of it is that your man Syhareta is on the up-and-up. More than one of the surveillance cameras from the solar facility caught glimpses of the Queen being there, so he’s telling the truth.”
“So she’s giving us not only protection, but the means to protect ourselves now,” he mused. “I wonder what that means.”
Zecora got up from the seat. “It probably means we’re right well bloody fucked,” she thought. “Well, you have a plane to catch and I have a debriefing to attend before my own outing to…” She smiled impishly. “Somewhere less fun than this. I hope I survive.”
Fire chuckled. “You mean you hope they survive you.”
“Right you are, luv, right you are.” She went over and kissed him on the cheek. “See you again sometime.” With that, she departed. He didn’t bother looking back, instead opening the package and starting to read.
“Oh, good, I’m not late.” Fire looked up from the report and at the girl approaching. She wore black cargo pants, a teal t-shirt and an eggplant-colored beret.
“Slipped into your civvies, Petty Officer?” While it wasn’t forbidden to wear civilian clothing on military flights, it wasn’t exactly encouraged, either, for a number of reasons from decorum to simple safety. It was why he himself had changed into his own uniform for the flight, even though he had to admit it probably would be more comfortable to dress in something more casual.
“Sir, I’m dressed as such because the moment we touch down I need to meet with the Regional Reclamation Authority to see if there are any surviving CIA safehouses that we can store our new guests in. Looking for something out by Springwind, but it is what it is.”
“Still doesn’t explain the civvies.”
“CIA rules. We’re dealing with their safehouses, we have to play their games. Personally, I prefer to wear my uniform, especially since it’ll be the last I do before I switch duty stations.” She pulled her tablet out of her backpack. “Once they’re safe, I’ll be reassigned from ONI to NAVSPECWARCOM. Probably won’t have to switch ratings – no time for that – but it’s a good thing I already have some training.”
“You do realize that if you’re going to NAVSPECWARCOM, chances are you’re going to SIX Det ALPHA.” Fire’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll have a better chance of winning the lottery or surviving a direct lightning strike than outlasting the war.”
The young woman looked at him. “It’s in the blood, General. It’s been in my blood since before I was even born. My grandparents stood brave. My father stood brave. And now, when everything is at risk, how could I do anything less? It’d be an insult to my ancestors…and worse, to my own nature. And you know my parents always taught me to do the right thing.”
Fire looked at her and his eyes softened. He’d seen too many valiant souls lose their lives for the cause. Too many corpses that should have lived to see their futures blossom and now never would. And now he wondered if he would have to bury another – and this one would hit home harder than anything.
He already lost his son last year when his fighter had been shot down over the Western Pacific. He wasn’t sure he could bear the loss.
“Just…when you go, be careful. We lost Sunburst. We can’t lose you too.”
Petty Officer 2nd Class Starlight Glimmer, United States Navy, looked at her father. Unlike her brother, the late Lt. Sunburst, she chose to go the enlisted route so she wouldn’t be accused of coasting on her family name. And now, she was going to prove it.
“Always, Dad,” she said, giving him a smile.
CANTERLOT, COLORADO
250017TJUL30:
She hated places like this, Applejack thought to herself for the umpteenth time. Buildings that could hide snipers, all with bullets with her name on them. Rattletrap ruins that could fall down on her and her troops, crushing them and leaving them helpless. Places where there was really no place to hide and no place to go. She’d seen far too many locations like this in her years in service and seeing them again did not bring her any comfort.
This went a thousandfold, especially given that the place in question was her own hometown. She even recognized the place that she stood in currently. How many times had they been to Licorice & Pizzazz when she and her friends had been downtown? Granted, the Sugarcube Corner had been their usual haunt, but that was far closer to CHS than downtown, and when they went to the main part of the town for the shopping there, Licorice & Pizzazz almost had the same feel. From the black, white and aqua tiles to the whole 1950s diner look of the place, it was kind of like a home away from home, if that made some odd sense. Pinkie had even referred to it once as the “Backup Emergency Sugarcube Corner” in case they had a need for Backup Emergency Sugarcube Corner emergencies.
Well, now, as she looked at the cracked and missing tiles of the store, gazing at a weathered and cracked milkshake glass that still had the Licorice & Pizzazz etched logo still on it, it made her wonder if any of that had been real. Sometimes it felt as though her life had really started during the war, and everything prior was a fever dream for someone who had yet to understand what real life had been.
And if this is real life, I think I’d prefer to go back to the old days, she sighed.
Her eyes drifted over to a broken, boxy shape against the wall, knowing what it was instantly. A reproduction 1967 Rock-Ola 434 Concerto “Happy Days” jukebox, she and her friends had played many a song on its CD roster on the days they had come here. She remembered the time when Sunset had completely monopolized the playlist and they had all spent hours, drinking shakes, chatting about the future and, as a result, missing the last train back to Apple Corners. Granny had ended up having to drive out to pick them up at 1 in the morning on a school night, and after the (well-deserved) ear chewing they received and the subsequent grounding, it had still been one of the more memorable parts of Applejack’s life. It had been proof that she and Sunset had become sisters in all but blood, twins in a strange sense, and both looking forward to the future.
Applejack remembered that well, because it had only been two weeks later that the Anon-a-Miss incident happened that spun everything out of control.
“Whut th’ fuck ‘re you doin’ here?” Applejack turned, her hand going to her sidearm. She’d left her main weapons behind as she was told this was a safe part of town, but she’d given orders to her own troops to have their sidearms on them at all times – this turned out to be prudent, as the person standing in front of her had weapons on the ready.
Sister looked at sister. Applejack noticed subtle differences in Apple Bloom that hadn’t been there since the last time they had seen each other a decade ago. For one, Bloom was now slightly taller than Applejack herself, maybe by about an inch or two. Secondly, she no longer wore the hairbow she’d worn all her life, but instead had her hair tied back in a braid that draped down her back.
But there was one thing that the two sisters shared besides blood: the look in Bloom’s tangerine eyes had the same dispassionate look as that of Applejack’s own. The difference was that Applejack, trained in warfare, could turn it off. Bloom, having had to face all of this on her own, had no such training – and as a result, likely always had the look of a killer. The thought dismayed the older sister.
“Ah said, whut’re you doing here?” Bloom demanded quietly – and probably only that because they were both outdoors.
“Luna told me that you’d be here,” Applejack said simply.
“Yeah, well, she was right. Bravo, her.” Bloom looked her sister up and down. “So, Army, huh?” The tone in the younger sister’s voice was dispassionate and uncaring, not just a sign of love lost, but of respect lost. The woman standing before Applejack may have been a random stranger, for all Bloom sounded as though she cared.
“Look, sis….” Applejack began.
“Ah don’t care whut y’ have to say, Sergeant, or whatever th’ fuck y’ are,” Bloom said.
“One, I’m a Navy SEAL, so not a sergeant. Two, I’m a naval officer, so definitely not a sergeant. I’m the one in charge of the combat troops we brought.”
“Oh, an’ Ah’m s’pposed to just bow down before your greatness?” Bloom scoffed. “We didn’t need you here when you abandoned us. Why would we needja now?” The tone in Bloom’s voice made Applejack unsure if she referred to her specifically, or the government in general.
“Sis, I didn’t come here to fight with you. I came to make peace.”
“An’ y’ done said yer piece an Ah don’t fuckin’ care.” The look on Bloom’s face turned to disgust. “What, y’ thought that Ah’d see ya an’ everything’d be roses an’ rainbows? Y’ ran out on us without a care in th’ world! Granny died never seein’ ya again, an’ y didn’t even care! An now you come like some golden-haired goddess, like y’re Sunset, Part 2? Hell, y’ don’t even sound like an Apple anymore, like yer too good for us! So why th’ hell should Ah care ‘bout what you have t’ say?”
Applejack ignored the taunts; she was going to be the better person here, but it wasn’t easy, and Bloom’s antagonism wasn’t making things any easier.
“From what I gathered, you didn’t do much better either, pissing off Mac like you did. And for that matter, he and I made up. Did you know he’s married now? Married Trixie Lulamoon and they have two kids. You’re an aunt now and your – our – family needs you.”
“No. No they don’t. And not that y’ give a shit – since you left ‘n all – but they gave up on me long ago. Everything Ah need, Ah have here, from mah boyfriend t’ mah rifle. An’ if Ah die t’morrow, no one’s gonna notice. No one’s gonna care.”
“I’d care.”
“Ah doubt it. Now get out of here – Ah got a patrol comin’ through in a few an’ Ah gotta give ‘em cover fire.” Nothing more to say, she walked over to the nearest window, which looked as though it had a well-worn sniper’s nest setup. It was then that Applejack noticed her sister was limping slightly, like she was recovering from a recent injury.
Applejack wasn’t sure that she should leave it like this. She then felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see another face she didn’t expect to see: Scootaloo. She said nothing, but the look in her eyes said everything: come with me.
Reluctantly, Applejack walked away from Bloom, leaving things unsaid and an uncomfortable taste in her mouth. Forget about words unsaid, she had a feeling that to solve her issue with her sister was going to take a voluminous amount of words that needed to be aired before any healing could start.
She just wasn’t sure that this was the best place to do it in.
***
A few minutes later, she found herself in Scootaloo’s apartment. Scootaloo passed her something that looked like a homebrewed beer. “Here, it tastes like shit,” Scootaloo told her, “but it’s the best thing we’ve got around here. And since I see you’re wearing a Budweiser, I guess you’ve had enough shitty beer around the world.”
Applejack took the beer and took a swill; it wasn’t the best beer she had, but it beat the formaldehyde-laden garbage she’d had back when she’d had a mission in the Phillipines – now that was shit beer. “So you knew?” Applejack asked.
Scootaloo laughed. “Remember, I was the military buff between me, Bloomie and Sweetie. Sweetie was into girly-girl things, and your sister’s always been a gearhead and tech freak. I have to admit, I’m jealous – you’re a SEAL and a commander, if I can tell your rank correctly.”
“Yeah. OIC of the SEALs here,” Applejack said, taking another swig of her beer to punctuate her sentence. “Look, Scoots….”
“Your sister isn’t the person she used to be, AJ. Sweetie’s married now and has a kid on the way. I’m pretty much the exile of the three, given that I live with my not-completely-my-boyfriend and had a nowhere life until all this shit started. But Bloom was going places until all this started. Did you know that the week before Decimation she’d received an offer to work for Cloudsdale Dynamics? The robotics manufacturer? They offered her a starting salary of $300K a year. And now? Nothing. It’s like karma got back at her for what we did to Sunset and Bloom only made it worse by pushing herself away from the rest of your family.”
“What about you and Sweetie?”
“She considers us the only family she has left, but even it’s strained between us three sometimes. She’s a proud and headstrong woman, you know.” Scootaloo laughed. “Just like every other Apple I’ve ever met.”
Applejack chuckled at that. “Well, at least she didn’t have to spend the past decade running around the world to find herself. I just hope that she can find it in her heart to make up and return to the family.” The blonde then related everything she’d told her sister, and the cerise-haired girl listened with rapt interest.
“Yeah. Sounds like it’s an overdue reunion,” Scootaloo said, getting up. “Look, it’s getting late and I gotta get on patrol myself, soon; I’m overdue and the only reason I’m getting away with it is because Luna asked me to talk to you – she knew this wasn’t going to go down easily.”
“Fancy that – the old woman that knew us as kids can still read us like a book.”
“Yeah, well, I hear that comes with age, wisdom, gray hairs and all that shit. Anyway, you go get some sleep, AJ; sounds like you need some. And I promise I’ll talk to Bloom as soon as I can. I can’t make any promises, but I’ll do what I can.”
“That’s all I can ask, Scoots. Thanks for the beer and the talk. I’ll see myself out.” Applejack went to the door and with a last look at Scootaloo, left.
The look shared between the two women was a sobering reminder to Applejack – when she’d left, she left behind angry and wounded teenagers, just like she was. Now, she was a returned woman with regrets and a recently removed chip on her shoulder. Why would any of the others be any different?
Fluttershy was just as bad as I was, Sunset, she thought to herself as she made her way back to where she and her SEALs were quartered. It was going to be an uneasy sleep before the planning started in the morning.
MARS JUNCTION, COLORADO
250147TJUL30:
The screams and rattles woke Bolt up. Remaining behind at the Mars Junction CMR terminus station as a rear echelon, she and the troops under her charge were there to provide communications and command support as well as watch over the captured…whatever it was.
Bolt reached over for her sidearm and went to see what the issue was. The chances of getting any sleep were minimal anyway, not with that grotesque parody of a person that the Octos had made being here with them. Besides, she had to make sure her people weren’t going to kill that thing – unfortunately, they needed it alive for study, because corpses tended to rot fast and that could make things worse.
She left the control room she was sleeping in and went downstairs to the platform where the troops assigned to guard the beast were. To Bolt’s lack of surprise, the creature was shaking the bars and rattling the cage, but it was doing it in a methodic manner, almost as if it were testing the cage to see what it’s limits were.
“Lieutenant, that thing freaks me the fuck out,” one of her sergeants said. “It’s almost as if it knows that it’s just a cage and that it’s trying to figure out exactly what it’ll take to break out.”
“I think that is what it’s trying to do,” agreed the lone SEAL present. As she had a broken leg, Lt. Cmdr. Apple had left the SEAL behind to assist them, mainly because Bolt’s own soldiers weren’t front line troops and if something went wrong, they would need someone with the skills to do what it took.
“Do we have anything to sedate it?” Bolt asked the sailor.
And then the rattling stopped…and that freaked out Bolt most of all. She looked at the creature and the creature looked back at her. And with that, Bolt realized that the creature knew somehow, what she’d been talking about. These things weren’t just mindless, grotesque monsters, but possibly sapient. It reminded her of something her father had told her as a child: Beware of the monsters that think, because they’re the most dangerous of all. Back then, her father had been merely warning her about child abductors and all the horrible things that could happen to kids.
She wondered if her father, who hadn’t survived Decimation, would have ever taken a creature like this into account.
“You know what we’re talking about, don’t you?” Bolt asked the creature.
The squat continued to stare at her with those beady purple eyes. Eyes that clearly reflected an intelligence. Did they somehow capture the “queen” of these things? Or merely the smartest one? And that brought other questions: if this one was intelligent, were they really grotesque parodies of humans? Or, horrifyingly, could they actually be humans? Mutants were a thing of fiction, but then again, alien invaders had been fictional, too – and so were unicorns.
And yet they were here, in the ruins of Canterlot, fighting an alien invasion, with the rumored chance to save the world being to find a woman that used to be a unicorn – a real, live unicorn.
She looked at the creature again, and saw the intelligence in its eyes, and yet at the same time the bestial rage and madness. Which one was the creature’s true nature?
Bolt didn’t have an answer. But, as she went back to her office, she wondered if she actually wanted to know if there was one – and if she would regret what that answer would be.
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this is so good! i cant wait to see more!