“How was the meeting with the Senators, Admiral?” His secretary asks quietly from behind her desk. The Pentagon has been busy today, with officers coming and going to meetings.

“Politicians, always looking out for votes, it seems their loyalties lie whichever way the wind is blowing.” The Admiral scoffs. “Senator Corrdis is currently lobbying for more funds to be given to private contractors like Spectrum, to deal with this pony threat.”

“Are they really a threat sir?” His secretary asks in a meek voice, not wanting to make eye contact.

Turning, the Admiral looks at her “They are the greatest threat to natural security since communism. Every age has its threats. First we had Germans and Japanese, then Communists, then Muslims, now the threat for this age will be ponies.”

Turning he walks into his office, “Every nation needs an enemy, by having an enemy it rallies the people. Hitler knew that all too well, and so does the vice president.”

With a soft sigh she rubs her hip watching as he closed the door, before looking at her leg with a shiver.

***

General Murray Olsen is an imposing man, not by physical nature, but by the attitude he holds, by the way he stands, and you can't forget his chest full of jewelry. He takes a seat at the head of the table, just looking at me and the rest of the Rangers.

Next was a Brigadier General, he is part of the 75th Ranger group, wearing their emblem on his shoulder, as well as several ribbons showing tours of duty.

Finally a pair of Colonels, one was definitely part of the Judge Advocate General’s office. To be a Corporal in the presence of this number of high ranking officers is never a good feeling or sign. My career being over was starting to feel like the least of my problems.

The Jag officer looked at his note pad “Disobeying orders, assault of marine personal, theft of civilian vehicle, AWOL. Is there anything that I have left out?” he says.

“No sir,” Our LT says firmly.

“Let’s start with the first charge, disobeying a direct order.” The General looks at his paperwork, “The order came from a Navy Admiral, within the supply chain of the US Marine Command, not authorized to either transfer nor discharge members of the army. The question at hand, does that justify the rest of the charges.”

The lawyer, a Captain Mitchell, stands up and offers a tablet to the General “Sir, the team had recovered this, it clearly shows civilians and military personal being transferred to Spectrum Labs, instead of to the FBI or CDC holding areas. As you can see, several of the ponies transferred to Spectrum are listed as deceased. This brings the question of a clear danger to his squad.”

The Colonel, one Col. Rozzen, nods “While Spectrum labs was authorized to handle ponies, there has been some question as to the treatment there, given the way the information is presented here, there is grounds to assume his squad was in danger.”

The JAG officer looks over the data, “However, there is no proof this has come from the Admirals office itself, this appears to be medical records.”

Captain Mitchell is quick to point out “The source of the information is not a requirement, these could have come from Spectrum for all we know right now, the information itself is what LT Fisher was going with. Tests being done on his personal, information that the Spectrum Group or medical staff had more information than being released, and followed by an illegal order.”

The Jag officer looks over the paperwork “Did this however justify disobeying the order?”

The Brigadier General, Wilson, simply nods “If the order was deemed illegal, disobeying it was within the rights of Lt. Fisher, especially in the case that his squad was in danger.”

The jag officer looks over “The second, charge then, the assault of marines.”

The LT takes a deep breath, “Given that the orders had come through marine command, we did not know who could be trusted. From that point out, and given an implied resentment to the ponies, our first goal was escape and evasion. For that we chose the point to minimize injuries or casualties.”

“Assaulting two marine security without killing anyone, showed that this was solely about disobeying the order, and not compounding the issue.” Our lawyer states firmly.

The General stands up “Given the fact that no one was injured, the vehicle was not damaged, and the AWOL was with the intent of making their way here, I see no reason to push this issue, there is little justification at this point for a formal courts martial. This does how ever leave us with the issues of both Cpl Yiska Christian, and Cpl Walter Fitzpatrick.”

I look at Yiska and gulp.

“First off, females are not allowed to serve in forward or long range infantry units. While Cpl Fitzpatrick was born male, he is no longer eligible for front line duties under that.” I flinch at that, I knew it was coming but it still hurt a lot to hear it said.

“That being said, both Cpl Christian and Cpl Fitzpatrick are being removed from active duty. For their service they will receive a full disability pension and benefits.” He carried on.

The LT Blinked at that “Sir, that is not fair, you have a pony working right this building, why are these two being dismissed”

“That pony started as a desk job, and continues her desk job, I highly doubt either of those two would be comfortable at working as a desk assignment.” He looks back at me and I sigh as I lower my head. “Both will be transferred to the Army Reserve Force.”

The Brigadier General nods once, “As a member of the Reserve Force, we will request your special talents be put to a new use. We would like to attach you to the 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment, again, while females may NOT be active members of that team, they can be attached for special missions. As you two are both ponies, you may act as a… calming influence… on some hostage rescue or asset recovery missions.”

“As it stands, Lt Fisher, your squad will be placed on a leave of absence for now until replacements a can be made available. Some R&R will do you good after your last tour.”

“Yes sir,” The Lt says with a nod.

We return to attention as the officers leave the room. Then I look at the LT and sit down, ears drooping. “They want us as token ponies, to show to others, look it’s safe to come with us.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t sit well with me either.” He says and walks over rubbing both my mane and Yiska’s.

An Army MP steps into the room, he looks around at us “I need both the ponies to come with me.”

The LT blinks “Wait a sec, they were cleared.”

The MP turned around and looked at the LT, “Have you looked at them recently?”

“Yes I have, what has their looks got to do with anything?” He said starting to look angry.

“Simple, it doesn’t match their ID cards or record files, we need to get new pictures and ID’s for them.” The MP states matter of factly.

If the LT had hooves he’d have just face hoofed, as it is, he covers his face with his hand and shakes his head. “Yeah, ok I forgot about that.”

I walk with the MP out to the security office, with Yiska in tow, the LT also comes along to ensure our safety, he doesn't seem to be feeling very trusting about this. Well I don’t trust this either.

I have to stand up against the white board for my head shot, though they have to lower the camera a bit more than usual for this, but it goes through just fine. Adjusting the camera again the operator looks at me, “Could you lower or take off your pants please for the next picture?”

I stand there, blinking, more than a little stunned. I have NEVER been asked to drop my pants for an ID Picture before. “Excuse me?”

Blaze steps up on this one too “Hey, why do you want her to drop her pants, that’s downright rude to ask.”

The MP looks at us then, then risks a glance “Uppity aren’t they?" He sighs, "It’s for your cutie marks, to have them on record with your picture.”

I blink a few times, then I feel my face flush, I lower my pants with my magic and turn sideways for the second photo. The operator blinks a bit, “Wow unicorn magic is real, that’s new.”

Moving over to the desk I sign my name and we end up waiting while the cards are made, my ID card ends up being a little different than I expected. Race unicorn, Gender mare, age 25/unknown adult, several things carry over from my old ID, my name was listed as birth name and alias. The photo though was a split shot, my face and my cutie mark.

Blaze was next to get his done, he had a little more trouble dropping his pants than me, but still fun to watch, and finally we both had our brand new ID cards.

The MP looks over at us sternly “If either of you turn into alicorns, it invalidates your current id, you’ll need to return and have it redone.”

“Oh come on, like that’s going to happen.” Yiska chuckles and we both break out laughing.

The MP looks at us sternly “You’ll be expected to turn in all of your old gear, from your barracks, including uniforms, quartermaster will give you some extra uniforms here, as well the PX has several… um...personal… Items that may be of use.” He says, his eyes glued on me.

Why do they ALWAYS look at me when they say things like that. Turning, I walk out and show the squad my new ID. As I was putting it away I see the Brigadier General walking up. “Ten HUT!”

Standing at attention we waited as the LT Saluted him. “Sorry sir, just getting things together.” The LT says.

“No need to apologize. I’m aware you are on leave right now, but I’m wondering. Would you be interested in carrying out some operations as a team?”

The LT blinks several times, “Sir?”

“Here’s the problem, China has been rounding up any and all ponies they can find, we don’t know what their end game is yet, and that’s worrisome. Russia on the other hand is taking a capture or kill stance, trying to round up ponies from their allies, and eliminating ponies in one case, to deny them from coming to the USA. They even went after an Air Transport in one case. I’d like to know if you would be available for some special missions. Over the next few weeks, on the books as Asset Recovery, but in reality it will be the rescue or capture of ponies from situations where normal diplomatic or peaceful means are not applicable. Places like Somalia, Afghanistan, Pakistan.

Sgt Sanchez blinks, “You want us to risk our lives for ponies.”

The General looks at him “Consider for a moment, what you’ve seen Twilight here do, consider that pegasi have been clocked at supersonic speeds. What we don’t want to see is a pegasus being strapped to a suicide bomb and being forced to fly into a shopping center. Or there are even worse scenarios possible, instead of a conventional explosive, what if it's a nuke?”

We all flinch at those images. Are there those out there that might… take their change and use it for something like that? At the same time though, I was, until very recently, a member of the military still so there’s always a chance that there are those out there that are… unfriendly.

“Its 100% volunteer, per mission so there is no being forced to do this, and this is completely on the books no black ops, no denying actions. This falls in line with orders given from the Joint Chiefs of Staff.”

Nodding, the LT simply states “We’ll consider it, but right now, we need to rest, it’s been a stressful couple of weeks to say the least.”

“I understand,” and with a final salute he returns to the office building.

We head into supply first, the quartermaster looks at us as we put our ID’s on the table, then goes over to the computer. “Ok, you’ve been told to turn in your old gear I take it?”

“Yep but it’s at our old barracks.” I say.

“You’ll be put up in Transient Quarters here for now.” Walking back he picks up two boxes and comes forward, putting them on the table, inside each is 4 pairs of black… boots? Sneakers? They were black something, with Velcro straps. “Hoof boots, designed for miniature horses or ponies, they will give you traction floors and prevent you from destroying hardwood or linoleum, generally we find two sizes fit all.”

Next he comes back with two saddle bags, “Since 2012, mules have been in use in some areas for military transport, we’ve modified basic packs we had in stock.” Packs were pretty simple, digital camo pattern, Velcro flaps over the bags, and each bag could hold about 5 gallons of volume.

“2 pairs of boxers, 2 pairs of combat pants, 1 combat vest or shirt, 1 new bush cap, 1 new Beret.” He says, then looks at Yiska, he walks back, then he returns with a box and swipes it through the bar code reader. “One TG-1 band, lose it, and its 2,500 dollars out of your pay.”

Blaze blinks “The hay? What the heck is that?”

“It’s a Modified sky diver system manufactured in Germany, they provide you with your altitude, GPS location, speed, and direction. They are rated up to 40k feet but they have been pushed to 50 without problems, water resistant, well, it's waterproof down to 20 feet, but we don’t suggest that, and they include a built in transponder. Keep the transponder on Squawk 0001 for now, you will receive full training in transponder frequencies and such in the next few days likely.”

Yiska blinks, looking at the quartermaster “Squawk codes, when did I become an aircraft?”

“The moment you got your wings, 0001 is the code for high speed military aircraft that are not on civil air traffic control channels. That means you will show up on their screens but they will know they can’t talk to you. They can then warn other aircraft in the area to avoid you. Unless getting sucked into a 787’s engine is on your to do list.”

“Nope, I’m fine 0001 and fly low.” Yiska pipes back.

“The buttons were made to be used with gloved hands so it should be pretty ‘Nuzzle Friendly’”

I blinked and looked over “Nuzzle friendly?”

“It’s a term a unicorn here came up with. Since lots of things have to be done with the nose, if she could work it with her nose, it was nuzzle friendly.”

“I, just don’t know how to respond to that one.” I say shaking my head.

“You can hit the PX for other things you’ll need, I hear the military boxers are not mare friendly,” He says and I look at the pile of clothing, moving everything into my saddle bags, I plop it on my back and then help Yiska.

“Ready?”

PX, Post Exchange or Base Exchange, but everyone calls it the PX, they are on every US Base, actually several militaries have them, Canadians call theirs Can-X’s, but it’s all the same concept. An on base, military run retail store, with everything from running shoes, to uniform extra’s, not just for starch and boot polish anymore, the PX’s now sell pretty much anything and everything you need, it’s the military version of a Walmart.

What really surprised me was they had a small section already tucked in the back corner for pony items, with a population of nearly 40,000 people, including families, the chances that 2 or 3 changed just hit me. Sitting down I look at Yiska and gulp “I wonder how many of us there are here, how many were cursed.”

Yiska closed his eyes, “Canterlot, Baltimare, Ponyville were all empty… I don’t know, lots.”

I pick up a pair of jogging shorts, a pair of t-shirts, and a Velcro Wrist strap for cellphones, apparently they are repurposing or using disabled items for ponies. Trying it on my foreleg it fits snugly and doesn’t bounce or move when I walk. I glance over to Yiska who is standing and staring at one set of packages.

Leaning over his shoulder I look down, “panties, for mares.” He says and starts to laugh.

They are not a brand name or anything, obviously no company would go out of their way to produce them, instead they appeared to be made on base and shrink wrapped. “15 dollars a pair, ouch” I say as I get 5 pairs.

“You’re buying them?” Yiska says, a shocked look on his face.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I? You can use the boxers but the quartermaster said they weren't mare friendly, and I’d rather not have them going places they shouldn’t.”

“But 5 pairs?”

“Yep, means I don’t have to wash them every day.” Picking up my basket I head for the cash registers.

“Remember the days when you got away with 1 pair for 2 or 3 days in a row?” Yiska says, smiling at me.

“Mare now, and accepting it.” I put my ID card down on the counter as well as my debit card to pay for my things.

Yiska pays for his and we both meet the squad at the food court. Yiska sits down, “Well we have a little time on leave, what’s next?”

The Lt looked at Yiska, “Back to your grandfathers I think.”

“What? Why?” Yiska looks shocked, “That’s not an option or suggestion I expected to hear from you.”

“Answers, and so far we’ve come the closest to getting the truth there. I think a few days there, will do us all good.” The LT states definitively.

“Ok LT, I’m up for it.” I say as I smile.

“We can probably catch a transport out to Nellis Air Force Base or another base close to the Reservation, than rent a car for the rest of the way.” The Lt looks at us “I’d rather not use civil airlines with you two, I hope you don’t mind.”

I give my head a quick shake “No sir, I mean I understand sir, no civilian airlines.”

The LT stood up and headed out, looking at Yiska I chuckled “Ok let’s head over to the transient quarters and dump this stuff off.”

According to our paperwork, we are being billeted in Forestall Hall, but check in is at Moon Hall. Walking in, I find myself getting really self-conscious again as people starting staring at us, several with none to friendly looks.

Carefully taking out the orders, as well as my ID I place it on the counter.

The desk staff, civilian contractors, simply looked at us. “I’m surprised, I thought pets were restricted to Loal House.” He says.

Yiska flared his wings angrily “We are not, and have never been pets. We are US Military Service Members.”

“So are bomb sniffing dogs.” He says dismissively, “Floor 2, section 23, suits 3 and 4.”

Picking up the key’s I turn and head out, Yiska trots beside me, almost pounding the ground as he walks. “We are NOT dogs, we are NOT animals.”

“Somehow, I think the bomb sniffing dog would get more respect then we will in places.” I say, walking to the building. I notice along the way, some cases people ignore us, others seem to stare. “You know, its lucky we aren’t near the private married quarters.”

“Why is that?”

“Kids… especially little girls, we would likely get attacked and demanded to go home with them.” Shaking my head I continue quietly. “I can’t imagine walking down town in a big city like this. It would be terrifying. I feel sorry for any that changed in New York.”

Walking inside, we found our room’s were side by side and they were not that bad, single bed, microwave, small fridge, TV, almost like a little hotel or motel room. “Yiska, I’m going to take a shower before the flight, it’s been a few days again.”

“Roger that.” Yiska says, closing his door.

Closing mine, I break out the new shampoo, towels, Loofah, and body wash and head into the shower. Turning it on I take a moment to find a good temperature that feels comfortable and start to hum softly as I wash my mane and tail first, using one Loofah to help with that. While magic itself was ok for some things, having a sponge to force the soap deeper into the mane helps a lot. Rinsing off, and next is the body wash, again I had a 2nd loofah for that, legs, body even hooves.

I look at my hooves for a bit, “Wonder if I need a trim, where would I go to get one even?”

Shaking my head I break out the 3ed loofah and wash the last few places that are a bit more sensitive. It really felt weird having something touch those parts but had to be done. Finally finished I give myself a shake and step out to dry off fully.

Heading back into the room, I looked at the new uniforms I was issued. I take one down and set it aside, I open one of the packages and slide on the underwear first, and then look at it in the mirror. I turn side to side to see how it fits, it leaves my cutie mark clearly visible, but it covers everything else, the tail hole works well as well letting me have free movement.

The door opens and Yiska pokes his head in “Hurry up, the LT just called and…”

I turn and look at Yiska, starting to blush big time, like I just got caught doing something I shouldn’t be. “I um...”

Yiska, wings spread and raised slowly backs out of the room, slowly closing the door.

Quickly I finish getting dressed in the new uniform, packing my shorts and t-shirt as well as spare undies, I scramble out of the room with my saddlebag on “KNOCK FIRST.” I say to Yiska as I lock my door.

“Lock your door.” Yiska say as he gets his wings back under control.

“Yeah sorry about that, I really didn’t mean for you to see that.” I stammer out still blushing a bit.

“You’ll wear those, but you won’t wear a tail ribbon?” He says with a chuckle.

“What is it with you and tail ribbons? What I’m wearing you can’t see cuz its under my clothing, tail ribbons everyone see’s. So what’s the LT saying.”

“Our flight is in 40 minutes, we are supposed to meet at the airstrip, for a C-130 hop.”

“Airstrip, where’s that?” I ask while pulling out my map, “Down Reilly, then follow Hunnycutt till Parham, we better huff it fast.”

Once we get outside we both break into a heavy trot, Yiska keeping step with me as we double time it for the strip.

Looking to the side we see a group of trainee’s doing PT, they are jogging in formation, and I look at Yiska.

“Airborne Ranger, Where Have You Been?”

Keeping step we started calling out the airborne ranger cadence song as we trotted past the recruits. It might not have been as funny except for the fact that we were going in the same direction, and our trot was about twice as fast as their jog, and we weren’t even huffing.

It takes us about ten minutes to make it to the airfield, and we end up passing two platoons on the way there, one of which we just KNEW were going to get an extra ten miles tacked on to their run for paying attention to us.

We trot up to the depot, meeting the squad there, the LT blinks in surprise, looking at us “Did you guys jog here?”

“Yep, passed a few platoons on the way here too, we can really cruise on hooves.” Yiska said, “Not as fast as flying but still, not a bad way to travel.”

The LT chuckles, and we head outside, a C-130 was currently being loaded with several pallets of supplies and modular containers. We head up to the loadmaster and the LT hands him the paperwork “If you have room, we’re cleared to fly with you to Nellis.” He calls out.

The loadmaster nods once “After the last pallet is loaded, you and your… Blaze? Rainbow Blaze? Wow, I actually have the trading card of you, that’s just too weird.”

Yiska blinked, “Umm, show fan?”

“Seriously, so what’s your daughter like?”

Yiska smiles at him, “I have no idea, I’m not a cartoon character, I’m me, I don’t even know if I really do have a daughter or not.”

“Oh that sucks, hang on, let me finish loading this.” He says as he brings on the last cargo container and locks it down, once he checks all the straps he brings us in to be seated.

I look over at the LT, shaking my head “It was bound to happen sometime, even to us lame background ponies.”

Giggling I leaned back and rested, letting the loadmaster harass Yiska, at least it wasn’t me this time.

Closing my eyes, I lay my head on my forelegs, catching some rest when you can is always a good idea.

***

“Oh that’s never a good idea…” I state, giggling at Twinkleshine, “It’s best to be rested before you try learning and casting new spells.”

“Sorry ma’am, I just couldn’t sleep last night.”

“It’s ok, I’m here to speak to you foals today, about your futures.” I look over at the assemblage of blank flanks in the school room, who knows what they would become, someday. “Earning your cutie mark isn’t the end of your journey, it many cases it’s the beginning. Just because you found your special talent to be magic, for example, doesn’t mean you stop there.”

Sitting down, I smile “It’s how you use your mark to help the world as a whole that matters, and a mark doesn’t close doors to you. A musical mark has just as much chance of getting into Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, as a magical mark. Same goes for the Royal guard. Who knows, you might be a cook for the EUP, if your talent was cooking. Don’t be scared if you find what you love doesn’t seem to fit with what you want to be in the future.”

“Many times it’s not for others to try and figure out how you fit in, it’s for yourselves to, because no one knows better about what you can do, then yourselves. Don’t get discouraged.” Looking over at Sunset, I shake my head. She just wants to study it seems.

“Ok that’s my time up here, I’ll make room for another parent.”

***

The plane bounces once before settling down causing my jaw to bounce off the deck “OW, DANG IT!” wiggling my jaw I sit up and look at the LT who is snickering. “That stung. Are we there?”

“We’re wheels down,” The LT says as the rear ramp drops, I trot down the ramp and look around.

This is a BIG airbase, looking around I follow the LT to the car rental point, not surprising but the base has its own Enterprise rent-a-car. The LT had pre-ordered a small Minivan for us before we had boarded the C-130, it was still a few hour's drive to Grandfathers but at least it wasn’t like thirty hours.

Blaze takes one look at the minivan and fluffs his wings “I think I’m going to try and fly it, I need more practice and air time.”

“Ok, and avoid air intakes.” I say with a chuckle.

Looking down, he pulls back the Velcro cover and turns the foreleg transponder on. Nuzzling code 0001, he looks at it “It looks like I'm all ready”

I watched Blaze start a light trot then flinch as I see him take to the air, leaving a rainbow trail “Ow ow ow ow… I HATE hot takeoffs like that.”

The LT looks at me “What's wrong?”

“Ok picture standing beside an F-16 when it lights its afterburners to take off, the heat, the noise… Well on hot take offs like that, I’ve noticed that some pegasi that generate a lot of power on take-off create magic noise… I can sense it in my horn.”

“So you need a horn muff?” He chuckles, the avoids my playful swat at him.

I climb into the minivan, ending up sitting in the back, and the LT starts to drive, leaning back a bit I noticed Eric and Henry starting to sniff the air. Looking at each other Henry leaned over and sniffed me once.

“Ok, WHAT!”

They looked at each other, and Eric chuckles “You smell like… Strawberries.”

“Were you using scented shampoo’s?” Henry looks at me, blinking.

“Umm, it’s what the PX had, sorry.” I tried to make myself smaller and squeak.

“Don’t be,” Eric says, “we just keep thinking of you as one of the guys, not as a guy, but more like a tomboy, so when you do something really girly, it surprises us.”

“Oh.” I meep once and look out the window.