Part 1
Applejack looked at the expectant eyes of her friend and, unfortunately, one of her co-ambassadors. The orange earth pony sighed. It was awful of her to disappoint the unicorn’s expectations like this, she knew. But… She shook her head. “Twilight, Ah have to tell you what Ah told Pinkie. Ah jest don’t know.”
Twilight Sparkle had hoped that this private meeting with Applejack would be productive, but with this new revelation most of her hopes evaporated instantly. Pinkie Pie had visited Applejack and hadn’t gotten any further than this, either? Groaning in frustration, Twilight pressed a hoof to her head and tried to massage away the rising headache caused by Applejack’s obstinacy. “AJ, could you at least explain why so that everypony can help you make a decision?”
“Like Ah already told Pinkie, Ah… Ah can’t tell if they’re really good ponies—er, Ah mean people—or not,” Applejack replied, waving one hoof as she tried to put her worries into words. Twilight simply groaned and sat down on the carpeted floor with a thump.
It had been like this for days. At first, Applejack’s earnest desire to do a thorough job had made good sense. All five of Twilight’s fellow Element Bearers were supposed to help Twilight make sure that Equestria’s newest neighbors were the honest, pleasant creatures they portrayed themselves to be. But a week into the negotiations, the lavender unicorn was beginning to wonder whether her farm pony colleague was doing this intentionally just to see how far she could fray Twilight Sparkle’s remaining nerves… No, that was unfair. Anypony could see that Applejack was getting just as agitated about the continued lack of resolution as anypony else. After all, Applebucking Season was coming up rapidly.
Twilight tried again. “Okay, Applejack. What specific problems do you have? I mean, we’ve spent hours talking with Ambassador Hudson and his staff. They’ve given us tours around the immediate area on their side of the Interface. They’ve told us everything we’ve asked about and more—even that awful stuff about the way they like eating… ergh… and their… Well, you know.”
“Ah… Ah guess it’s just all this fanciness,” Applejack admitted after a long moment of silence.
“‘Fanciness?’” echoed the puzzled unicorn. If Twilight had been forced to come up with one word to describe the two mares’ current surroundings, ‘fancy’ wouldn’t have been it.
Twilight Sparkle looked around the austere room that was serving as the Equestrian delegation’s temporary lounge here on the human side of the ‘Interface’ (or as Pinkie called it, the Big Swirly Blue Thingie). Some pains had been taken to make the ponies comfortable with the addition of slightly-too-large plush chairs and a nice carpet. Unfortunately the gray walls and blue-tinted buzzing lights made it clear that up until a week or so ago this building had been built for a very different purpose from its current existence as a sort of mutual embassy.
“Fanciness,” Applejack repeated. “It’s… There’s all this talk, and talk, and talk. Twi, Ah know you’ve heard ‘em say the same things Ah’ve heard. But… it’s like Manehattan. Ah haven’t seen one genuine article since Ah got here. Maybe if the Princesses hadn’t said what they said Ah could just trust anypony who could win the support of you, and Dash, and Pinkie, and Rarity, and even Fluttershy.”
Applejack sighed, her tail swishing in agitation as she continued, “…But the Princesses said that what y’all thought didn’t matter if Ah couldn’t give mah personal guarantee as the Element of Honesty. And Ah’m about two days away from turnin’ tail and gallopin’ back to Sweet Apple Acres as fast as mah hooves can take me.”
Biting her lip, Twilight nodded. If Applejack did that, all the work that the other Element Bearers and their human counterparts had done would be for nothing. The alicorn ponies’ orders had been clear: without unanimous consent by the Element Bearers, the two rulers would use their powers to seal the Interface for good. No more fascinating exchange of human and pony knowledge. No opportunity for Twilight to examine the road less taken in the humans’ odd replacements for magic. No opening of vast new markets for Equestrian farmers and artisans. If the human delegation couldn’t win Applejack over soon, with or without her friends’ help, it would all be for nothing.
* * *
The clock in the Interface Embassy ticked. Papers rustled as the recently appointed Ambassador James Hudson reviewed his notes. These were the only sounds in the embassy’s largest human-occupied office… save for the desperately quiet noises of Corporal Robert E. L. Cargyle trying to remain absolutely, perfectly still. The ambassador let the young man stew for a few moments more before setting down the binder with a thump. He rubbed his eyes, wincing as the habitual gesture poked the still painful injury that had recently left him a cyclops. “For the love of God, Corporal. You don’t have to sit at the position of attention for me. I’ve already told you ‘at ease’ three times, haven’t I?”
“Sir! Four times, sir,” Corporal Cargyle corrected. He shifted uneasily, unwilling to leave the safety of strict military formality despite the ambassador’s exceptionally loose approach to protocol. This was… uncomfortable, to say the least.
Ambassador Hudson stared back at the young Guardsman. Corporal Cargyle looked crisp and new in the olive green dress uniform of the Texan Guard, like he’d come straight out of a box as a life-sized action figure. The diplomat sighed. “Look, Corporal. I served in the Gulf State Militia back before Reunification. I know a thing or two about a professional military, and I can assure you I’m not going to bite or fire you or throw you over a desk just because you sneeze without asking permission first.”
“I hope it won’t come to that, sir,” Corporal Cargyle acknowledged noncommittally. The Texas Guard’s universal opinion of the Gulf State Militia didn’t include either the description ‘professional’ or the word ‘military,’ and the Guardsman was pretty sure that if someone was going to get thrown over a desk, it wouldn’t be the portly 50-something diplomat who would be doing the throwing. Not that Robert would ever say any of that within earshot of his new boss.
The ambassador’s unbandaged gray eye drilled into Cargyle’s brown ones as the two stared at each other. The diplomat blinked first… or perhaps he winked at Robert. It was hard to tell when matching gazes with a temporarily one-eyed opponent.
Ambassador Hudson’s face split in a huge grin. He laughed. “That was very… diplomatic of you, Robert. Well done. And in fact, that’s why you’re here today. Here. Look through this and ask me when you have questions.”
Cargyle nearly leaped out of his chair to catch the binder as the ambassador tossed it in his direction. He opened the first page and hesitated. “Sir… this is stamped Most Secret. I’m not cleared to read any further.”
“Oh, for f- All right, fine.” Growling in irritation, Ambassador Hudson scribbled out few brief lines on a sheet of stationery. Signing it with a flourish, he passed it over to the Guardsman along with a second photocopied page. Corporal Cargyle stared at them both. He’d only ever heard of situations like this. A direct authorization from the President?
Ambassador Hudson waved languidly at the twin letters of authorization—his and Confederate President Rodriguez’s—and drawled, “So you see, Corporal Cargyle, clearance isn’t a problem. Now then. Proceed.”
Hands shaking slightly, Cargyle began to read. A lot of the information shouldn’t even have been classified: after all, it was already public knowledge. Some few months before, there had been an incident at an experimental power laboratory here in northern Texas, right near the border with the Plains Union. This laboratory, in fact. And now the Confederacy was the proud owner of the world’s first known inter-dimensional portal… and had the distinction, for what it was worth, of being the first nation in the former United States to make contact with extraterrestrials: the ‘Equestrians.’
Corporal Cargyle turned the page, wondering what exactly it was he was supposed to be getting out of all this. He risked a glance up to see Ambassador Hudson watching him with his one good eye. The Guardsman wondered yet again what could possibly have happened, there. What, did the ambassador poke his eye out with a cocktail skewer? Robert found himself chuckling at the thought. Thankfully the cyclopean James Hudson didn’t seem to notice.
The next page was covered with a series of photos, all starring one of the six Equestrian ambassadors. Having done security detail here at the embassy for the past week, Cargyle had gotten somewhat used to the odd appearance of the diminutive little horse-people… but was still odd to think of them as real flesh-and-blood creatures instead of something out of a storybook. Amusingly enough, the pony featured in all the pictures seemed to be wearing an Equestrian-sized cowboy hat. Robert vaguely remembered seeing her a few times around the compound, usually peering out the chain link fencing into the rolling plains beyond. Heh. He could sympathize.
“Her name is Applejack,” Ambassador Hudson explained—rather unnecessarily considering the name was plastered all over the page. “She’s the last holdout. And, according to our sources, if she doesn’t sign off on this deal in the next few days, we might as well all pack up and go home.”
“..Sir?” Corporal Cargyle put the binder down. This was all very interesting, but so many pay grades above a corporal’s rank that Robert had to wonder why, precisely he was getting this information. He was starting to get an idea, but… Corporal Cargyle began to get a horrible sinking feeling. No. No, it couldn’t be. That would be stupid.
Ambassador Hudson leaned forward on his desk, making sure he had the increasingly nervous Guardsman’s full attention. “Corporal Cargyle, you are going to make sure this doesn’t happen. We believe you are the man for the job. We’ve arranged some time off for you from your usual duties for this.”
“But sir! Ambassador. What, exactly, do you want me to do here?!” Military protocol forgotten, Corporal Cargyle practically erupted from his seat. Robert wasn’t some James Bond type, damnit, he was a Texas Guardsman on the embassy detail!
“Nothing crazy, Guardsman. We just need you to find a way to convince Ambassador Applejack that we’re all good folks here in the Confederacy. Think you can do that? Of course you can.” The ambassador smiled winningly and stood, indicating that the briefing was at an end. Rounding his desk to help Cargyle to his feet, he said, “Approach it as you see fit, Robert. Take as much time as you need... as long as you don’t need more than two days.”
This was nuts. If diplomacy between the Equestrians and the Confederate Gulf States failed, it sure as shooting wasn’t going to be pinned on one Corporal Robert Edward Lee Cargyle. Taking a deep breath, Cargyle shook his head and protested, “Sir, I’m not a diplomat. I don’t understand why you’re picking some random embassy guard for this. Isn’t the situation a bit more serious than that?”
Ambassador Hudson slapped Robert on the back reassuringly. “Don’t worry about it, Cargyle. Some of the top thinkers at this conference think you’re the man for the job.”
“Who?” the corporal managed as Ambassador Hudson propelled him toward the door.
The diplomat pushed both letters of authorization into Corporal Cargyle’s hands and opened the door. “Top thinkers. Now, take these and git. I have a party to plan.”
* * *
The wide, high-ceilinged banquet room had been a loading bay in its former life, but now it was innocent of piled boxes or forklifts. Various dignitaries, Confederate and Equestrian, took up much of the floor space around long, white-swathed tables. The diplomats chatted in small groups and congregated around the punch bowls and platters of hors d’oeuvres. Waiters moved gracefully through the crowd, refilling drinks and spiriting away discarded plates and silverware.
With the notable change that half the guests were tiny little horse-people instead of humans, Corporal Cargyle had seen this all before. Being an embassy guard meant standing around bored at lots of parties like this one, and sometimes getting to attend as a guest. Embassy detail was a cushy assignment that let Guardsmen like Robert spend a year or so rubbing elbows with the movers and shakers before heading back out to the real military—standing watch on the border with the Democratic Republic of the Plains, patrolling the Rio Grande opposite Nuevo Tenochtitlan…
The embassy detail had treated Corporal Cargyle right. Up until now, anyway. Sergeant Morales, the guard at the door, gave his friend a grin and a wink as the nervous corporal walked through the door and into the party proper. The Texas Guardsman suppressed the urge to shudder as he felt the weight of his task bearing down on his broad shoulders. How the hell did Ambassador Hudson expect him to do this?
If Corporal Cargyle was going to go down in history as the man who lost Equestria, he wasn’t going to do it thirsty. He headed to the punch bowl and poured himself a glass. The punch burned his throat a bit going down, but hit the spot. All right, now to find that orange pony. What was her name again?
“Some party, eh?” drawled a soft feminine voice off to Robert’s left.
“Oh, I don’t know. The drinks are okay, but the little cracker things aren’t all that,” Corporal Cargyle replied with a shrug, keeping his eyes scanning the room. How hard could it be to pick out one of the six Equestrian ambassadors in a crowd? Damn, this was going to fill his dance card for the evening, wasn’t it? Thanks for nothing, Ambassador Hudson.
“Hah! Ah hear that.” The hearty guffaw from Cargyle’s fellow crowd watcher was hardly the demure titter of a southern belle that he’d expected. The girl chuckled a bit more when a few dignitaries shot angry looks in the pair’s direction and quickly turned back to their hushed conversations. Robert heard a crunch as his companion chewed thoughtfully on some appetizer or other. “Ayup. Mah family’s grub could beat this frou-frou stuff any day of the week. Too bad they didn’t have us cater it, hah.”
“I bet. What do you think of the music?” Corporal Cargyle found himself smiling as he continued to scan the crowd. Well, there was the purple one… And there was the white one, talking with Ambassador Hudson’s wife. Robert spotted the pink one with the frizzy hair over by another punch bowl, but quickly looked away. The pink pony had been staring right at him with the creepiest grin on her face.
“It ain’t what we play at home, that’s for sure,” the girl replied with a laugh. “Well how about that. Only a week here and Ah’m already polishing up mah dip-lo-matic skills.”
Cargyle resisted the urge to abandon his mission and to focus on his as yet unseen companion. She sounded hot and she thought he was funny, what was there not to like about that? He didn’t recognize the voice though, and the accent seemed a bit thicker than most he’d heard. Was she new on the embassy staff? She’d just said she’d only been here a week… And where the heck was that damned orange pony? Robert was going to have to go hunting for her; he could feel it.
“Definitely wouldn’t complain if they put on some of the old pre-war stuff. That’s the only music that’s any good any more. Maybe some Johnny Cash,” Corporal Cargyle agreed, refilling his punch glass and taking another sip.
It occurred to the Texas Guardsman that he was being terribly rude. Good thing his dear old mother wasn’t here to see this. He quickly filled a second glass and turned to face his unseen companion, saying, “I’m Robert. Corporal Robert Cargyle, Texas Guard. Would you like some punch, Miss—”
There was no one there. Cargyle looked down. The filled glass nearly dropped from his suddenly numb fingers. Two emerald green eyes stared up at Robert from under the wide brim of a Stetson. The cowboy hat was perched atop the head of an orange-pelted pony wearing an embroidered green and brown dress. It was Applejack. The corporal’s throat went even drier than before as he handed the glass down to the Equestrian ambassador. “Here you are, Ambassador.”
“Aw, don’t call me that. It’s plain old Applejack. Ah get confused when folks start usin’ weird titles like that. But thanks fer the punch anyway.” Somehow managing to pinch the glass in her fetlock, the mare raised it in toast. “Anyway, here’s to another boring party. Like ya said, at least the punch ain’t too bad.”
“Heh, tell me about it,” Corporal Cargyle agreed with a rueful grin. Crap, here was the ambassador herself, and he’d been jaw-jacking away as if she were just some girl. He scrambled to say something intelligent and rallied with, “My platoon’s Reunification Day party was better than this, and that was after the LT forgot to buy charcoal for the grill. Sergeant Jones and I had to go running halfway across New Austin just to find a store that still had any. By the time we got back, the rest of the platoon had already drunk all the beer. Bastards. Er, sorry Miss Applejack.”
Chuckling, Applejack waved on the hesitating Guardsman. This was the most interesting party conversation she’d had in the past several days at least. It almost made the humans seem like real ponies. Or, people, rather. “Come on now, Robert, Ah don’t bite. So, what brings ya here? Y’all with the fancy green suits there are usually watchin’ the doors and standin’ on the roof, not chattin’ with us diplomatic types.”
“I’m uh…” Corporal Cargyle had been wracking his brains trying to come up with the best approach here, but so far there had been no flashes of genius. “Actually, I’m here for you.”
The orange mare blinked. “…Beg pardon?”
Cargyle drove on, letting his father’s words echo in his brain. Honesty is the best policy, Robert. Honesty is the best policy. Honesty is the best policy. “Ambassador Hudson thinks we’re not going to reach an agreement and all this will be for nothing, and… Look, Miss Applejack. I don’t know the first thing about diplomacy, but you seem like a reasonable, um, pony. What’s keeping you from giving us a thumbs up on—oh geeze.”
Applejack laughed again at Corporal Cargyle’s embarrassed expression. She finished the rest of her punch and smiled up at the Guardsman. “Did ya know, Robert, yer the first human to come straight out and ask me that?”
“I didn’t.” Taking the raised cup, Corporal Cargyle refilled it and handed it back. He filled his own cup and drank some down. The punch was really hitting the spot… and it gave Robert an excuse not to say anything before he stuck his foot in his mouth any more than he may already have done.
Looking around, Applejack saw several sets of eyes—pony and otherwise—watching her chat with the human. She shifted uneasily at the attention and looked back to Corporal Cargyle. “Come on, Robert. Let’s get some fresh air. Fresher ‘n here, anyway.”
“Sure. This way, Ambassador.” Slipping back into formality, Corporal Cargyle started to lead the way to the door. He stopped short when he realized the Equestrian ambassador wasn’t following him.
“Now, Robert, Ah think we’ve talked…” Applejack took another sip of the punch and finished her cup, continuing, “…Enough fer ya to stop callin’ me ‘Miss’ and ‘Ambassador’ and start usin’ mah name.”
Pony and Guardsman exchanged glances. Robert took another swig of his punch and finished off his own glass. He smiled and nodded. “All right then, Applejack. Let’s go.”
Giving the puzzled Sergeant Morales a sheepish grin, Corporal Cargyle led the way through the compound until they reached the last door, flanked by a couple of serious-looking Texas Guardsmen. Robert showed them the letters of authorization. “Evening, Private Richards. Evening, Sergeant Strong. The ambassador and I are going outside for a few minutes.”
Cargyle could feel two questioning gazes on him as he held the door open and let Applejack step through into the brilliantly lit exterior of the compound. Tugging on his beret he walked after the pony as she trotted out to the edge of the fence. The cool evening breeze was doing little to draw away the heat Robert had built up in his wool dress uniform, and he wished he could at least unbutton the jacket. Instead, he suffered in silence as the Equestrian diplomat put a forehoof to the fence and glanced out onto the dark, rolling plains.
After a moment, Applejack turned and looked up. “Aw… ponyfeathers. Ah can’t even see the stars out here, with all these lights like this.”
Knowing enough to tell when words were unnecessary, Corporal Cargyle kept quiet and followed the pony’s gaze. The harsh glare of the security lights blotted out everything but the black expanse of the sky and even dimmed the crescent moon. He looked back down to see Applejack looking at him.
“Ya wanted to know why Ah haven’t given the okay yet, right?” asked the diplomat.
Corporal Cargyle nodded. “That’s right, M-- Applejack.”
“It’s… Yer the first human to come out and ask. Ah get the impression y’all love to use big fancy words and to dance around things. That may be all right for Rarity or Twilight, but Ah’m a simple pony. Ah’m not here to use ten-bit words and to agree how much everypony likes everypony else without really sayin’ anything, right?” Applejack waved a hoof expressively.
“You think we’re all hat and no cattle?” suggested the listening Cargyle as he took a seat next to the ambassador. “I mean, you think that we’re just saying this stuff to get you into bed—whoops, sorry…”
Corporal Cargyle groaned internally. What was with him tonight? Robert’s cheeks flushed hotly as the ambassador looked sidelong at him. Fortunately once again Applejack found his diplomatic misstep more amusing than offensive. She chuckled into her hoof. “Couldn’t have put it better mahself. So, since we’re havin’ this here honest heart-to-heart, a question fer y’all humans. What d’ya really want from Equestria?”
“Food,” Robert replied without thinking. Applejack took a hasty step backwards, staring at the human with wide, horrified eyes. Cargyle looked at her in puzzlement for a moment before comprehension dawned. “Wha—oh. No. Not that. God, no. No. Horses aren’t for eating.”
Gesturing to the shadowed plains that stretched out before him, Corporal Cargyle explained, “Applejack, we need more grain and vegetables and such than we can grow. Our… neighbors won’t sell to us at prices we can pay forever. They want us weak, so we can’t keep our borders safe. It’s like a family farm. If food is expensive, we can’t eat and keep our fences mended at the same time. We can’t repair our truck. We can’t even replace the shingles on our roof. Am I making any sense?”
“Ah think ya jest may be,” answered the pony. Applejack nodded with a thoughtful look on her face. “All yer diplomats kept going on about ‘mutually beneficial trade agreements ‘n suchlike. This, Ah understand. Ah’ll consider it…”
When Applejack trailed off, Corporal Cargyle turned to look at her. The wind ruffled through the pony’s long blond mane as she sighed. Finally she climbed to her hooves, the expression on her face souring. “Well, Ah suppose we’d better get back to the ‘party.’ Ugh. How Pinkie puts up with this kinda thing Ah don’t know. These things ain’t worth the word ‘party.’”
Corporal Cargyle laughed and got up, swaying a bit. Whoah. Must have stood up too fast. Making sure to get the door, he led the way back to the banquet hall. The minute they entered, Robert could see Assistant Ambassador Michaelson making a beeline for his companion. Uh oh. Turning, he bowed slightly to the orange-pelted ambassador. “Well, Applejack, I’ve said my piece. Don’t want to overstay my welcome…”
“Huh? Why do ya—oh,” sighed Applejack as she saw the diplomat headed her way. “All right. Have a good evenin.’”
Well, that had gone… surprisingly well. Corporal Cargyle wondered vaguely if he’d missed his calling to the State Department as he made his way back over to the food. One of the other of-duty Guardsmen was already there. Private Adams grinned. “Hey, Corporal Cargyle. Fun times, eh?”
“Yeah. Good stuff,” Cargyle agreed, his voice flat. He poured himself another glass of punch. “How’s it going?”
“Well I think I have a chance with this little hottie across the way… just got here from Nacogdoches. She’s a secretary. I’ve been telling her aaaaaalll about embassy guard duty,” snickered the private, leaving the amount of exaggeration in his tales to the imagination of the other Guardsman. “You got anyone going this evening?”
Thanks to Ambassador Hudson, not so much. Corporal Cargyle shook his head and took another gulp of his punch. It really was quite good. “Nope, not tonight.”
“Too bad, I bet—whoops, better go.” Seeing someone else making a move on the secretary, Private Adams hurried back to his girl, punch in hand. Once again, Corporal Cargyle was alone. He finished off his drink again and refilled the glass. Maybe after a few minutes he could get out of here without Ambassador Hudson noticing.
Unfortunately, no such luck. Corporal Cargyle stayed where he was, slowly using the distraction of the punch to dull his boredom at the insipid background music and murmurs of pointless conversations. Robert was pretty sure by this point that the punch wasn’t non-alcoholic, but who cared? It wasn’t like he had any other plans for the evening…
About five glasses in, a vaguely familiar presence intruded on Cargyle’s booze-soaked musings. A light voice with an attractive drawl called, “’Scuse me, Partner. Ah’m a bit parched. Could you get me some punch?”
Corporal Cargyle filled a glass and turned. Nobody was there. He looked down. There was Applejack, looking somewhat worse for wear from her conversation with Assistant Ambassador Michaelson. She chuckled tiredly. “Havin’ a good time yet?”
“Nope. You?” Robert passed the drink to the Equestrian ambassador and the two shared a smile. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. Cheers!”
Clinking his glass against Applejack’s, Robert trained it to the dregs. After a moment, the pony followed suit. “Ah didn’t think he’d ever stop talkin’ about… whatever that was.”
“I’ll drink to that! …Or maybe not.” Corporal Cargyle frowned down at the empty punch bowl in slightly inebriated surprise. A thought occurred to him. It was a good thought. Robert knew it was a good thought, because he’d thought of it. Yes. “Hey, Applejack…”
“Hmm?” the mare grunted, regarding her punch glass critically.
Cargyle secured the cup from his drinking companion and set it on the tray of a passing waiter. The smile widened on Robert’s face as he suggested, “What do you say we get out of here and I show you what a good time really is, Texas-style?”
Applejack matched the Guardsman grin for grin. “Why, partner, Ah think that sounds like a right old time. What’s the plan?”