The problem with the dark helmets was that they worked perfectly. Greg tried a few other approaches to the problem, but none of them worked anywhere near as well. He tried to change the appearance of the helmets. If he altered their code enough, they did change appearance... but then they didn't function. Finally, he admitted that he was only attacking a symptom... a symbol of what was really bothering him.

It's not like I'm trying to take over the world, Greg told himself. The helmets don't enslave the ponies, they just keep them focused on the mission. When this is all over, I'll remove them and they can all go back to Equestria... and I'll make it bigger and better than ever as a reward for them. It'll be okay.

But he was still uneasy about it.

As a distraction, he tried to find out why non-specific code always manifested itself as something recognizable from My Little Pony episodes or comics. He failed at that, too.

He began taking long hikes out into the surrounding desert or down into the narrow canyon instead of working on the specifics of his plan. He realized that he was stalling... delaying the day when he would have to commit himself and his troops to the all-or-nothing attack. But he couldn't seem to force himself to concentrate on anything. After more than a week of limbo, when his ponies stood ready for orders that never came, Luna appeared beside Greg where he sat on the canyon's rim, tossing small pebbles over the edge.

She didn't say anything but sat down beside him and then lay down, putting her head in his lap. He absently stroked her neck as he continued to gaze down into the shadowed depths.

"I can't find any way around it," he said a low voice. "If I want to do this thing, I'm going to have to kill a lot of people... people who never did me any harm. A lot of them... hell, maybe even most of them... are probably good people despite the jobs they're doing."

Luna lay quietly, letting him speak in his own time. She knew she was the only one he could really talk to... and that he desperately needed to talk.

"The silos are no problem. They're built to withstand the violence of a launch and when the missiles collapse, they won't do any damage. The smaller missiles and munitions are more problematic. Debris will certainly be an issue, but the military is equipped to deal with it. Most of it will be inextricably locked into the dark crystal matrices, but those will still be highly radioactive. Some people will probably die in those situations, but I can fool myself into thinking that it's unlikely." Greg sighed and picked up another pebble. "It's the submarines that... well, finding them is problematic, but I can unleash hordes of seaponies. I'll just wait until I'm sure they've located every sub and then..." He tossed the pebble into the canyon. He heard it clack against the wall twice on the way down but never heard the final impact. "The ponies can't get to the weapons without breaching the hulls. What a horrible way to go."

"All the crews will be killed?" Luna said.

"If I'm so fucking smart," Greg half-snarled, "why can't I find a way around it?"

Luna lifted her head and turned to face him. "If you can't see a way, it's because there isn't any."

"So... should I give up? Push the big red self-destruct button on our secret base and run off to Equestria with you? It doesn't seem like such bad an idea, now."

Luna pushed herself into a sitting position. "I've been learning more about the world and humans while you worked. Sometimes it's still hard for me to understand individuals but as for people as a whole... as armies and governments... there are patterns... constants."

Greg was surprised. He hadn't had any clue that she'd been doing something like that. But he had been shutting out so much in the past month... and she obviously had something important to say. "And...?"

"They won't leave us in peace, Greg." She said with her eyes downcast. "Their technology will get better and better. Now that they know it's possible, they'll soon be able to create ponies of their own. Or something like ponies but more... terrible. Or they'll figure out how to detect and block the programs that sustain Equestria. Whichever way it happens, they will destroy us."

As soon as she'd spoken the words he knew it was true, and that made his decision easy. It was no longer a choice between war and retreat. It was a matter of survival. And when it was his life and Luna's against those of the crews of all the nuclear subs in the world... two versus hundreds... thousands, maybe... no, it wasn't a simple matter of numbers. Greg knew he could make a better world; one without the threat of near-instant annihilation hanging over it. And with the transformative power that Luna controlled he could make deserts bloom and purify the air and water and... he could atone for the deaths he would cause. Atone with real, concrete deeds, not the twisted logic and rationalizations that were spewed across the media by the self-serving politicians who were complicit in the murder of millions.

In the end, it was actually a simple task to convince himself.

He rose suddenly to his feet and brushed the red dust of the desert off his pants. He held out a hand to Luna who still sat, looking uncertainly up at him. "C'mon Luna, we've got work to do."

Under control of the dark helmets, Greg needed far fewer ponies than he had originally estimated. Within two weeks of making his decision to go forward with the plan, everything was ready. He stood at the huge computer control console that was half-embedded in the rock walls of the deepest cavern of his base. The enormous wall screen displayed a map of the world, a bright red dot indicating each and every nuclear weapon on the Earth. Even with the comforting blue dot near each red one, indicating a team of Greg's ponies, the sheer number of them sent a cold, crawling sensation down his spine.

His guts knotted as he flipped the switch on the console that made the connection to his headset microphone. Luna stood beside him and gave his neck a reassuring nuzzle. He gave her a sickly smile and a tiny nod of thanks before he spoke the irrevocable words that would be relayed to his troops, world-wide:

"Equestrians, attack!"

There was nothing else to do but wait for things to go wrong. He had dozens of squads of ponies in reserve, ready to fill in if they were needed... but he wouldn't know much of anything for a while. He flipped the microphone off and watched the screen as a few drops of cold sweat made their way down the back of his neck.

An hour later, martial law was in effect in the United States and similar states of emergency were declared in every nation on Earth that possessed nuclear weapons. A Presidential order was issued that all Equestrian creatures were to be shot on sight... which usually caused the death of any soldiers foolish enough to try to carry it out.

When the last, stubbornly resisting red light on the screen winked out, Greg thought he should feel some sort of relief, maybe even a sense of accomplishment. What he felt was nausea. But the day was not yet over. Greg had wisely pre-recorded the statement that his sophisticated computer system would feed into the media streams. The message, delivered by satellite, cable, radio, and web in hundreds of languages, would come from a self-possessed and confident-seeming young man instead of from a pale, shaking figure who, at the moment, looked years older than he really was.

The announcement was phrased as well as Greg could manage and couched in reassuring, even comforting terms but the gist was simple: All the nuclear weapons in the world have been destroyed. What happened last year in the US will never happen again. No further hostile action will be taken unless I am attacked. For those who were killed today and their families, I am truly sorry. I will do my best to make up for those deaths. Soon I will show you what wonders I can accomplish for you all.

Greg sent the message and then shut down the computer console. "There. Now we wait and see." Luna hugged him tightly, and he mustered enough energy to give her a brief squeeze in return.

"Do you want some food? You haven't eaten all day," she asked.

"No, I'm tired. I just want to sleep."

They went to their bedroom and curled up together. Greg stared at the ceiling for several hours before he managed to drift off. Luna held him, listening to his heartbeat until it finally slowed, then she allowed herself to sleep as well.

Greg was woken by Luna who was standing beside the bed holding a pegasus stallion in her magical grip.

Greg blinked the sleep from his eyes and looked at her and then the little pony. "What's with him?" he asked.

Luna's grip was painfully tight and the little pony seemed to be having difficulty breathing. "Noteworthy entered without knocking."

"Ah... well, I suppose he must have had a good reason." He turned his gaze to the pegasus, "Didn't you?"

Noteworthy made a "Mmh-hmn" sound.

"Let him go, Luna."

"Whew! *cough* Oh, man! I just wanted to let you know there's news, boss!" the pegasus told him, glaring as much as he dared at Luna. "I wanted to tell you right away so maybe I forgot..."

Greg waved away his apology. "What's the news?"

"Uhm... it ain't exactly good news."

"Just spit it out," Greg snapped impatiently. "Or do you want me to let Luna squeeze it out of you?"

"They... uh, the humans, that is," Noteworthy stammered out, nervously, "they sorta... well... declared war on you." He crouched down and cringed as if expecting a blow.

"Ghod, I hate mornings," Greg sighed and then added to the little pony who was still looking uneasily up at him through one eye nearly squinted shut, "Thank you for bringing me the message as quickly as possible. Just... remember to knock next time."

Noteworthy gave a sigh of relief. "Sure, boss! I won't forget!"

Surprisingly, Greg actually felt a lot better once he'd had the chance to wake up completely. "Breakfast first, I think!" he said cheerfully to the unicorn mare who served as his secretary and general aid as they walked along the corridor to the control room. "A nice, big primavera omelet for me and for Luna...?"

"Roasted pegasus," Luna grumbled.

"Make that two omelets, Sugarberry," Greg chuckled. "Don't hold a grudge, Luna! He was just a little too eager."

"It's not him I'm really angry at," Luna fumed. "It's the humans! Declare war on you? Such hypocrites! The day before yesterday, if you'd asked any one of them if they would like to see all the Earth's nuclear weapons vanish, not one of them would have said 'no!' They're ungrateful, illogical, and—"

Greg placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her rant. "And they're probably frightened to death. We need to show them that the worst is over. When they see what we can do for them, they'll calm down and we can negotiate. You'll see."

And that was an important difference between Greg and Luna. She knew she didn't understand humans all that well. Greg mistakenly thought he did.

"They're ungrateful, stupid, destructive, MORONS!" Greg shouted, throwing a coffee cup at the video screen. The ceramic cup hit the transparent aluminum screen and shattered, leaving the screen untouched except for a light smear of coffee that dripped slowly down one side.

The ponies in the control room went very quiet and tried hard to avoid Greg's notice.

"I made them a paradise and they destroyed it!" He waved at the images of smoking craters and burning palm trees that flickered across the screen. Large swaths of green grass and flowering shrubs remained but were rapidly being churned to bits under the treads of the armored vehicles that rolled across what had recently been the barren, hard-baked earth of the Northern Mojave Desert.

"Why did they do it?" Greg asked, his anger slowly draining away. "The first bombings at the periphery, I can almost understand, but after the reaction had stopped... after the oasis had quit growing..." he shook his head in frustration. "All that pure water... and food free for the taking..." As if on cue, a blazing date palm, its heavy load of fruit sizzling, fell into the slurry of mud that had once been a pond of crystal-clear water.

Greg took several deep breaths to calm himself. "Okay, okay, I knew this wasn't going to be easy. We'll just try again. And again and again, if we have to! I'll jam beauty, peace, and prosperity down their throats if they won't take it any other way! Eventually they'll get tired of wrecking it all... " Greg sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to hold off the tension headache he felt coming on, and in a much softer voice added, "...I hope."

Greg tried two more transformations in different parts of the country. Each time he created just what the local residents always said they would love to see or have. Each time the military moved in and scoured the ground clean. Once it was discovered that simple extreme heat or cold would stop whatever it was that disassembled and reassembled the molecules of the landscape, ordinary citizens fought off the changes with weed-burners, welding torches, and CO2 fire extinguishers.

Greg sent several messages to various governments, pleading for reason and detailing all the benefits he could offer them. The responses were all variations on the same theme: Surrender. Then we'll talk.

He kept teams of his ponies scouring the planet, searching for hidden threats and found several. Many governments tried to set up hidden arms factories to build more nuclear weapons. Others worked on different exotic weapons, some were clever ways to generate large EMPs, some were based on the mistaken assumption that because heat and cold affected the transformative fronts, they would also work well on Equestrians. Greg destroyed them all.

Greg sent out more messages and they were ignored by almost everyone in any position of authority. Anybody who dared to suggest that there might be merit in negotiation was shouted down or denounced as a traitor to humankind. The only disagreement under public debate was exactly how he and his monsters should be killed.

There were many individuals who supported Greg, and they freely made their opinions known on social media, but were relentlessly attacked in open forums. Some were so supportive that they volunteered to become ponies. Some begged him.

"Could you do that?" Luna asked him one evening while they surveyed online opinions together.

Greg frowned in thought for a while. "It's a more complex problem than it seems. A different body would require a different autonomous system to run it. Changing the brain model I use now to integrate that, to say nothing about adapting it for using magic, well… getting it wrong would be a death sentence... or worse. Look at the trouble I had with straight-forward conversion!"

After a bit more thought, he said, "I'll keep logs on everyone who's expressed interest in being 'ponified' and get to work on that problem once things have calmed down. Right now, if people started turning into ponies… yeah. 'Calming down' is the opposite of what would happen."

After New Canterlot was bulldozed into marble and gold rubble, Greg considered changing tactics. "It was like Disney World crossed with Minas Tirith! What's bad about that?" he asked Luna as they sat together at dinner after the latest failure.

Luna said nothing in response.

"Maybe I should try something more subtle," Greg mused as he poked at the uneaten steak on his plate. "Or maybe I should just learn to laugh maniacally, and work on bringing about eternal night." He looked up to gauge Luna's reaction. She was wearing her enigmatic face. "It was a joke."

"Which part?" she asked.

Greg sighed and dropped his fork to his plate with a clatter. "They're only destroying the new creations because they know they come from us. They think they're traps or... or... I don't know... tainted somehow. If we change things they won't immediately notice... let them get used to it and then reveal we're responsible... that would change their minds, right?" He hurried on without letting her answer. "Maybe some new springs of water in the Southwest where it's needed so badly? We could seed them along the rivers and set them to increase over time. Yeah, I'll send out some squads to scout for good locations in the morning."

To Luna, he seemed happier when he left the table. But he still hadn't eaten his steak.

Two days later, Greg and Luna strolled along the banks of the upper Sacramento River, pausing every once in awhile to let Luna bend down and touch the ground with her horn. Everywhere she touched, a small trickle of pure water bubbled up from the earth.

"When we finish here," Greg said to her as he checked his map, "We'll go over to the San Joaquin, east of Modesto and—"

"Stop right there!" came a determined, but somewhat high and squeaky voice.

"Huh?" Greg folded the top half of his map down to reveal a group of small children lined up in front of him. And beside each one of them was... a pony.

"What... who the heck are you and what are you doing here?" He demanded.

A lanky young girl with long red hair and a truly amazing amount of freckles took one step forward along with her unicorn friend, and said in the same squeaky voice that had halted him, "We're the Guardians of Harmony, and we're here to stop you!”

Author's Notes:

Thanks again to my non-insouciant prereaders and editors WrittenWord333, Fana Farouche, and Jordanis. I care because they care.

Did that make any sense? I think I need more absinthe ice cream.