Truth and Judgmentby MoonriseUnicorn
Chapters
I
TRUTH AND JUDGMENT
~ I ~
Crystal Air Defense Command (CADC)
18:48 Celestial Time, Lunar Date 05.24
“Sir?”
The grizzled old veteran, General Firefly, looked over his shoulder at the recently enlisted young earth pony radio operator who had called him, then turned, trotting over to the operator's station.
“Scouts in section forty-eight report unidentified four-engine turboprop aircraft. Probably a Lockheed C-130 Hercules, flying with nav beacons turned off. Bearing zero five zero, speed three two zero knots, altitude five zero zero feet, one three five miles southwest of the town of Graypony.” The operator rattled off the contact as if he were responding to a drill sergeant, his voice emotionless as if this were all routine.
General Firefly quickly scanned the meticulous white board on the wall where they recorded all expected flight operations for the day. As he had suspected, no human aircraft were supposed to be in the area today.
“Skimming the trees and flying dark, huh. Can they tell if it's a gunship? And can they identify the flag nation?”
“Negative on both questions, Sir. They are keeping their distance above and behind the bogey. They haven't been spotted and want to keep it that way.”
“Try to make radio contact with the bogey.”
“Yes, Sir.”
The young operator pressed a button on the console, the bright orange LED display switching to show a different transmitter frequency than the one he’d been talking to the scouts on. He pressed a foot-pedal with his forehoof, activating the transmitter.
“Attention, C-130 Hercules. You are in Crystal Empire airspace. Identify your tail number, flag nation, service branch, and state your intention.”
A minute, perhaps two, passed. There was no response. The operator turned towards General Firefly again.
“Sir, scouts report the humans dropped something from a side door in the aircraft. They aren't sure what it was, but it appeared to be two small boxes.”
“They dropped something?” Skyfire asked, raising an eyelid.
“Yes, Sir.”
The radio operator waited a few seconds, then tried the call again. Still, nothing. He looked at the General again.
“No response on either UHF or HF broadcast frequencies, Sir.”
General Firefly nodded slightly and responded calmly. “Scramble Third Intercept Wing at Mustang Station with instructions to intercept and identify the bogey. They are not to engage unless they are fired upon first.”
“Yes Sir.” The operator turned to his console again, pressed another button. The glowing LED reflected the switch to another frequency, and he made his call to Mustang Station.
“Hey Storm Rider, are you joining us or what? Can't play Sheepshead with only two ponies.” Captain Skyfire called from the old aluminum folding table, counting a well-used deck of cards with an image of Princess Cadance on the back of each card. Another Pegasus Guard sat across the table from him. After a few seconds with no response to his question, Skyfire looked over his shoulder to the old olive-drab upholstered couch that had seen better days. Storm Rider was sprawled on his back, all four legs in the air, his gaze focused on a poster hanging from the ceiling above the couch. The tape from one corner of it had come loose so that the edge was hanging down. Skyfire sighed and shook his head.
“Really? You're staring at that poster again?”
“A stallion can dream, can't he, Sir?” Storm Rider rolled off the couch in a dog-like fashion, landing on all four hooves and stretching himself from front to rear as he made his way over to the table.
“You and every other stallion who dreams of dating a supermodel. Besides, she's already married to her manager. That uh … Fanny Pack stallion or whatever his name is.”
“Fancy Pants, Sir,” Iron Star, the pegasus guard across the table corrected him as Storm Rider joined them with another stretch and a yawn, giving them the three they needed to play Sheepshead.
Skyfire watched six other Pegasus Guards outside the window who had been playing hoofball, but their game was currently at a standstill. The senior officer among them was holding the ball under his wing, pointing at the sky with a forehoof and flaring his other wing. He laid his ears back on his head and shook it, jawing at the pegasus standing across from him. Skyfire couldn't hear what was being said through the closed window, but based on the body language being used – the ruffled flight feathers, the scowling muzzles, the pinned ears – he suspected there was some kind of argument over the rules involving whether it was legal to fly in hoofball or not when there were no earth ponies or unicorns around to complain about it.
“Besides, she's a changeling,” Iron Star said, drawing Skyfire's attention back to their own discussion.
“She is not!” Storm Rider protested, flicking his short blue tail and giving a very horse-like snort.
“Of course she is,” the other responded.
“Fleur Dis Lee is not a changeling! What ever gave you that idea?”
“Look at her body. Nopony 'cept maybe the Princesses could maintain a body like that. Not unless they were a changeling.”
Storm Rider opened his mouth to protest, but was stopped short as a piercing klaxon siren split the air. A beacon on the ceiling lit up, casting a rotating red light on the walls like some kind of angry disco ball. All three pegasi immediately jumped to their hooves, galloping towards the exit. Skyfire threw the door open with a bang and the three pegasi rushed out. The six pegasi who had been playing hoofball joined them, their argument over the rules immediately forgotten, the ball bouncing a few times on the ground, then rolling away to Celestia knows where. They hurried to the armory, where the nine of them quickly strapped on armor equipped with dual Hellfire magic cannons and radio equipped helms. Then, Skyfire spread his wings, taking to the clear, cerulean-blue sky that nearly matched his coat, the wind whipping at his short-cut ash-gray mane and tail as he gained altitude like a rocket. He glanced over his shoulder. The other eight members of his wing were in delta formation, just as he’d trained them to be. He looked forward again and made a radio call.
“Brass Helm, this is Mustang, climbing through one five zero zero feet, bearing three zero zero.”
“Mustang, Brass Helm. Scouts report single unidentified four-engine turboprop one two eight miles southwest of Graypony. Bearing zero four two, altitude five zero zero feet. Flying dark, ignoring radio calls. Probably C-130 Hercules of unknown type and unknown flag. Intercept and report. Do not engage unless fired upon. Make your bearing two six four to intercept.”
“Brass Helm, Mustang. Bearing two six four. Intercept and report, do not engage unless fired upon.”
“Affirmative, Mustang.”
Skyfire banked his wings, the horizon flipping on its side as he made a knife-edge turn to the left, leveling out on the intercept course he'd been given. The rest of his team followed with the precision of a single organism, as if they were all limbs connected to the same body. He leveled off at two thousand feet, scanning the sky in front of him. The thrill of the hunt – the old cat and mouse game – pumped through his veins like gasoline fueling a fire in his soul. This was what every Pegasus Guard interceptor lived for. The ground sped by underneath him at a blur as he picked up speed, his team matching his pace as they flirted with the sound barrier. As they flew closer to their intercept point, another thrill arose in him: The thrill of possibly making another kill. He forced that one away, refusing to let it inside of him. For it was like sugar of lead: Sweet to the taste, but deadly poisonous if you allowed yourself to take it in. He activated his radio transmitter again.
“Brass Helm, Mustang. We're on intercept course, airspeed six four zero knots. We'll be there in two minutes.”
“Acknowledged, Mustang. Report bogey in sight.”
“Will do, Brass Helm.”
He addressed his team now, using the intercom frequency.
“Alright team, you all heard the orders. We are to intercept and report. We are not to engage unless we are fired upon. The bogey will be below us, so keep your eyes downward. We'll come in high and give her a wide berth, then slip in behind her. Scouts think she's a C-130 so she's a pretty big bird, and heavy. Remember, large birds like her produce strong wake turbulence, so when we're behind her, make sure to stay above her.”
“Yes, Sir!” his team acknowledged as they continued rushing towards their intercept point, the wind plastering Skyfire's fur and close-cropped mane to his body and causing his tail to stand straight out behind him.
He flared his wings like a speed brake, the air pressing against the front of his wings with a painful ache in his muscles as he reduced his speed, nearing the intercept point, scanning the sky. Not as young as I used to be, he thought in passing, pushing the ache from his mind and focusing on the task at hoof.
“Bogey at two o'clock, Sir. Range, ten miles and closing,” Storm Rider called out on the intercom. Skyfire turned his head, looking down slightly and into the distance, where he spotted a storm-gray bird on the horizon. From this distance, it was impossible to tell what it was, other than it was a transport-size mechanical aircraft.
“Lets go left, and climb to five thousand feet. When we get behind him, we'll make a one-eighty and trail him.”
The team did as instructed, rapidly climbing to five thousand feet and approaching the aircraft from above. Skyfire made another radio call.
“Brass Helm, Mustang. Positive contact with bogey. We're climbing to five thousand feet to approach from behind.”
“Acknowledged Mustang. Report positive identification.”
“Will do, Brass Helm.”
As they approached the aircraft, the bottle-nose design, the high, straight wings, and the four turboprop engine nacelles showed the scouts had been right. It was a C-130 Hercules. The aircraft was flying at the same altitude and had only changed direction slightly. They passed over the top of it, apparently unnoticed. Skyfire turned and began a rapid descent, his ears popping from the increasing pressure, until they were only a hundred feet above the aircraft, trailing it in their delta formation. The whine and rumble of the four turboprop engines hammered his senses like impact wrenches, and the burning jet fuel filled his nostrils with the putrid stink of flaming kerosene. He looked over his shoulder, addressing his eight team members through the intercom.
“You three go right and pull alongside of her, I'll go left with you two. The gunships have thirty millimeter cannons mounted in the sides, so make sure you look for them before dropping in alongside. Those cannons can fire four thousands rounds a minute and will make short work of you if any of their shells hit you. You two stay behind, and remember to stay out of her wake. You get caught in there, you might as well get caught in a tornado.”
“Yes, Sir,” his team acknowledged, then broke formation, each slowly moving into their assigned positions. As they moved closer, Skyfire scanned along the entire length of the gun-metal gray aircraft. There were no cannons or other weapons mounted anywhere. The logo and stenciling on the side of the aircraft identified it as U.S. Marine. The aircraft continued to maintain its course, not deviating in heading, speed, or altitude. That suggested the aircraft was probably on autopilot, even though by now the crew had to know that they'd been intercepted. But so far, they hadn't attempted to take any evasive action. That either meant the aircraft's captain was a very cool customer, or …
“I'm gonna pull up to the cockpit glass,” Skyfire announced to his team. “Make sure the crew isn't unconscious or injured or something.”
He slowly inched his way forward. It was safe to fly at the same level as the aircraft now since he was in front of the wings and didn't have to worry about wake turbulence. He pulled up alongside the cockpit window, making sure to stay a safe distance away from the leading edge of the wings and the engine nacelles. He definitely didn't want to tangle with those spinning propeller blades. The loud drone of the engines made it difficult to hear anything else as he turned his head, peering inside the large cockpit windows. The vibration from the propellers tickled his fur and rattled his bones like one of those vibrating beds you sometimes found at old, cheap human motels. The pilot turned his head, looking at him, although Skyfire couldn't get close enough to see the details of his expression, making it impossible to judge if the pilot had been aware of their presence before now. His face appeared somewhat aged, lines of experience painted on it like the yellowing of an old photograph. But with his flight helmet on, it was impossible to get an accurate idea of his age. The pilot turned his head to the right appearing to be say something to his copilot. Well, so much for the idea of the crew being incapacitated, Skyfire thought to himself with confusion. He made a radio call over the broadcast frequency.
“U.S. Marine one eight two four four, please acknowledge.”
If the pilot had heard the radio call, he gave no indication of such. His head was still turned to the right and he appeared to be conversing with his copilot; perhaps discussing what action they should take. A few seconds later, he turned his head to the left again, looking at Skyfire. He pointed to his headphones, shook his head from side to side, a signal that Skyfire took to mean that their radio wasn't working. Skyfire waved a forehoof in acknowledgment. Perhaps the radio failure, combined with the fact that their nav lights were turned off meant they had suffered some kind of catastrophic electrical system failure? He didn't think that was likely. The aircraft had backup electrical systems, and a complete electrical failure would have also affected flight control systems. And besides, the pilot had not signaled an emergency. Only indicated that their radio was inoperative.
Another more sinister possibility entered his mind: The aircraft could be on a reconnaissance flight. That would also explain why the nav lights were turned off. But they were flying so low that a camera's field of view would be very limited. That made reconnaissance almost as dubious an explanation as electrical failure. This was growing more peculiar by the minute. Skyfire made another radio call on the control frequency.
“Brass Helm, Mustang. Bogey is a C-130 Hercules, U.S. Marine Corps, no visible weapons. Tail number one eight two four four. Crew is responsive and has indicated radio failure. The aircraft is definitely not a gunship variant, but we can't completely rule out a recon flight.”
“Acknowledged, Mustang. Stand by for further orders. “
“Mustang is standing by.” There was no need for Skyfire to repeat the exchange to his team. They had heard it over the control frequency as well. There was nothing to do now except maintain formation around the large aircraft.
“Mustang, Brass Helm. Establish whiteboard communications with the bogey. Escort them to a landing at Commander Hurricane Field. Inform them that they will be fired upon if they break formation or otherwise refuse escort and landing instructions. Instruct them to stop as soon as possible on the runway, shut down their engines, and remain in the aircraft and await further instructions from Crystal Guards at the field.
“Understood, Brass Helm.”
Skyfire reached into the flight bag strapped to his armor and removed a small whiteboard, which he began to write on using the English alphabet.
In violation of CE airspace. Escorting to landing at CHF. Do not break formation or you will be fired upon. Rock wings if understood. Fishtail rudder if not.
When he'd finished writing the message, he held it up, hoping the print was large enough for the pilot to read. The pilot looked out the left window for a few moments. Skyfire began to think the pilot couldn’t read the message because of the distance. Then again, maybe he just can’t read my horrible English hoofwriting, he thought. But then the cockpit rolled back and forth once as the pilot rocked the wings of the aircraft. Finally, we've at least established communication! he thought to himself. He erased the message from the whiteboard and wrote another one, holding it up again for the pilot to see:
When on ground, stop ASAP. Shutdown engines. Remain inside, wait for instructions from Crystal Guard.
Once again there was a pause of a few seconds, and the pilot rocked his wings. Skyfire slipped himself a bit further away from the aircraft for safety, then radioed his team.
“Alright team, let's get this bird turned towards a landing. And let's climb to a safer altitude.”
Skyfire and his team banked slowly and pitched up, starting a gradual climbing turn and keeping the large aircraft boxed in the middle of the formation. The rumbling of the engines on the aircraft turned into a loud growl as the pilot throttled up. The aircraft pitched up and banked, the pilot skillfully matching the climb and turn rate of Skyfire and his team, leveling out of the turn when they did. Skyfire leveled off at one thousand feet and the aircraft followed suit.
They continued to fly for about twenty minutes. With the continuous droning noise of the engines pounding their ears like hundreds of buzzing changelings, it was difficult to hear well, so Skyfire and his team remained silent. Eventually, the runways at Commander Hurricane Field appeared on the horizon. Skyfire turned his head towards the cockpit, pointing at the runway with a forehoof. Again, the pilot rocked the wings of the large aircraft, indicating his acknowledgment that he saw the runway.
The formation made a few turns, lining the aircraft up with the runway. The growling of the engines became quieter as the pilot throttled back and began to descend, Skyfire and his team following the aircraft's lead, maintaining formation, letting the pilot of the aircraft determine the descent rate for the entire formation. The wind noise increased as the belly of the plane opened like the gaping maw of a whale. The landing gear descended, the flaps lowered.
“Remember team, her wake turbulence will be the worst when she is slow and dirty like she is now.”
“Yes, Sir,” they all responded, being careful to make sure they stayed above the glide path of the C-130.
When the aircraft was three hundred feet off the ground, Skyfire ordered his team to break off from it and circle above it. The incessant mechanical rumbling of the engines was replaced with the quiet spring-like hiss of wind from their own wings, giving his ears a much needed reprieve. He looked down, watching as the aircraft crossed the runway threshold. The runway itself was lined with Crystal Guard military police, as well as firefighter ponies and medical ponies in case the aircraft had some as yet unknown mechanical problem that had caused this situation and the landing were to go badly. But the fear of a bad landing was unfounded. A small puff of smoke appeared from underneath the aircraft as the tires made contact with the runway. The aircraft slowed, came to a stop. The propellers slowed down, the circular blur at the front of the engine nacelles gradually becoming individual blades. Eventually, they stopped completely and Crystal Guard military police rushed to surround the aircraft. A few minutes later, five men exited the aircraft with their hands on their heads. Skyfire watched as Crystal Guards approached them, cuffed them, and searched them. He waited for a minute longer, just to make sure things were going as smoothly as they appeared to be. The situation on the ground appeared calm, with the ponies and humans simply talking to each other for now. The pilot raised his bound hands, pointed with one finger in a direction, then made a kind of turning motion, as if he were trying to explain to the Crystal Guards how it was that they had ended up in Crystal Empire airspace. No doubt, the Crystal Guard ground commander was asking questions. Skyfire would have loved to hear the answers, and perhaps ask a few questions himself regarding the crew's odd behavior. But alas, his part of this ordeal was over. His curiosity would probably never be satisfied, his questions never answered. But he'd make a note to ask Air Defense Command later on what had come of the incident. For now, he turned back to his team and addressed them through the intercom frequency.
“Alright, good work team. Got 'em on the ground, no injuries, no weapons fired, and all involved are safe and unharmed. The way it should be.”
“Thank you, Sir!” the team responded in near unison. He made another radio call on the control frequency.
“Brass Helm, Mustang. Bogey is secure and the crew was taken into custody without incident.”
“Good work, Mustang. Return to base and have one on us.”
“Mustang, acknowledged.”
Celestia's Sun was beginning to set on the western horizon, setting the sky on fire with shades of brilliant pink and orange as Skyfire and his team made a sharp climbing turn. They began making their way towards their base at a much more leisurely pace than the near sound barrier breaking speed they had flown at to reach the intercept point.
“I bet the Capn could get Fleur Dis Lee in bed with him,” Storm Rider said over the intercom.
“Na. No offense to the Capn, but he's like forty years old. Fleur is what, twenty? She's literally half his age,” Iron Star responded.
Skyfire simply rolled his eyes as his team talked about him as if he wasn't right in front of them, leading their formation. He heard the idle chatter, but it had an impersonal quality to it. Like listening to a play-by-play sports commentary given by announcers who he had never met. Most of his team was involved in the conversation now, but he paid no attention to which pegasus was saying what.
“He can't be any older than Fancy Pants. Besides, Capn's a war hero. Mares go for that.”
“Says the stallion whose only had two relationships with mares, both of which lasted less than a month.”
“Hey! Both those mares loved me. It's the baggage that came with me they didn't want. First one ran away as soon as she found out I was in the Pegasus Guard. Second one was a little more understanding, until she found out I was getting stationed in the Crystal Empire. She didn’t want to move so far away from home, and she didn’t want to have a long distance relationship, so she left. Mares don't wanna marry the military. At least not stallions like us who end up getting assigned to foreign bases.”
“Then what makes you think Capn would have a chance with Fleur?”
“Cause Capn's an Ace. The only ace that war produced on either side. He's a living legend, even among the humans. He's got what … seven confirmed kills?”
“Yep. Three F-16s, two F-18s, and two F-14s. Bagged all three of the F-16s on the same day.”
“Eight, if you include the bomber. What was it, a B-52?”
“Na, it was a B-1. I know a stallion who was there and saw it happen. Told me the Capn shot the left wing clean off the thing. It spiraled into the ocean like some kind of flaming pinwheel, trailing ropes of black smoke all the way down.”
Skyfire allowed himself an inward sigh. All of his team members were too young to have fought in the Contact War. Most of them were too young to even remember it, given it had happened twenty years ago. That would have made most of them between two and eight years old at the time. This back and forth chatter among them was nothing more than hero worship. He hated hero worship, and he hated it when they talked about his war record. It dug memories up from his core that he’d spent the better part of twenty years trying to bury and cement over.
“The crew bailed out on that one though, didn't they?”
“Yeah, but they ended up in the water. The SAR ponies tried to find them and rescue them, but they never did. The search was called off after two days on the assumption they'd been eaten by a hydra.”
“Poor monkeys. Survive getting their plane shot out from under 'em, only to become lunch for a hydra.”
“What was it the human fighter pilots used to call the Capn?”
“The Red Baron of Equestria.”
“Who was the Red Baron?”
“A legendary fighter pilot from the humans’ World War One. Made somethin’ like eighty kills.”
“Capn would’ve been able to beat that score … if the war had lasted more than a month.”
Or I’d be dead, Captain Skyfire thought to himself. Even the Red Baron had eventually met his match. Skyfire often wondered how long it would have been before he met his own if the two sides hadn’t agreed to a cease fire a month after the fighting started.
“Eight kills. And meanwhile, all the rest of us got to show for ourselves is escorting a few human aircraft flirting with the borders until they decide to turn around and go home. Well, and forcing a C-130 to land that decided flirting wasn't good enough and they'd blatantly punch their way right into Crystal Empire airspace.”
“There's no sport in shooting down transports anyway. You can't dogfight with 'em. And they are big, slow, and have the turning radius of a cargo ship. It's like shooting at the broadside of a barn.”
“Kind of strange though, isn't it? They weren't just flying along the border, but staying in international airspace. These guys just busted right on through like they didn't have a care in the world.”
“Everybody plays cat and mouse games. We do it to them too. Secretly, everyone loves it. Gives us all something to do, keeps everyone's skills sharp, and gives governments an excuse to spend money on defense. These guys just got a little too close.”
“Probably got distracted by their broken radio and let their course wander a bit too far. I doubt Crystal Palace is gonna make a big stink over it. Assuming they weren't spying, those guys will probably be on their way home in a day or two.”
“They're probably more afraid of what'll happen to 'em after they get home than of anything that might happen to 'em here. Their own leaders aren't gonna be happy about the diplomatic incident they caused, even if it is a minor one. And shit rolls down hill, as they say.”
“What's it like, Sir? To actually make a kill?” Skyfire raised an eyebrow as one of his teammates apparently remembered that he was there.
“Capn doesn't like to talk about his kills, rookie. Doesn't like to talk about his war experiences.”
Skyfire finally joined the conversation.
“He's a rookie. He gets to ask once, and I answer him once. After that, he never gets to ask again. That's my rule. The same rule all the rest of you had to follow.”
“Well … what's it like then, Sir? To dogfight and make a kill?”
“Oh, here we go again,” Thunder Strike mumbled. Skyfire ignored him and turned his head to look back at the rookie once, then faced forward as he began speaking, unscrewing the lid from the memories he’d tried to keep bottled up. Hopefully, this would be the last time.
“It's the biggest thrill you can imagine. The dogfight is like sex. Like the perfect drug. Seeing the beam from your Hellfire cannon hit, seeing the bogey explode into a blazing ball of fire like Celestia's sun. It's like the climax of sex. The ultimate high.” His voice became more morose now. “But then … you land, and the withdrawal hits … At night, I would see their faces. And then the next day I'd go back up in the air and it would all start again. Every day, I’d tell myself this was the last time. Assuming I survive another dogfight, when I come back down, I’m going to the squadron commander and telling him I’m done. But I just need one more hit from the drug. The thrill of one more kill. And that night, there were new faces added to the ones I saw the night before. The war ended, and the drug was no longer available. But the withdrawal never goes away … I still see their faces.”
For a few moments, they flew in silence, the noise of the wind slipping passed them the only sound reaching his ears.
“Whose faces, Sir? The faces of the pilots?” the rookie asked.
“Mostly, I see children. Their faces staring at me accusingly, and asking me why I took their daddy away from them. I try to explain, but how do you explain something like that to a child? They tell me they hate me for killing their dad. That they hate their dad for leaving them. They tell me they don't understand why we couldn't all just be friends … Wisdom from the mouth of a child … Yes, why couldn't we all just be friends ….”
An oppressive silence hung over the team as the last remnants of Celestia's Sun sank below the horizon. The air felt muggy and heavy, as if a thunderstorm were moving in, even though it was a perfectly clear and warm late spring evening.
“You sure know how to take the wind out from under a pegasus's wings, Sir,” the rookie finally murmured.
“Never be too quick to wish for dogfights and action and kills, rookie. It's not worth taking someone's life over. It's not worth having to see those faces every night. And besides, even the Red Baron eventually made a mistake. And it cost him his life.”
Another long pause before the rookie responded.
“You … You think the human soldiers who killed Royal Guards feel the same way you do Sir?”
“I imagine they do. Might even have been worse for them because they had to see what they were shooting at. But for us, in the heat of the dogfight, you’re shooting at a machine. You don’t think about the fact that when you destroy the machine, you’re also destroying the living being inside of the machine. You don’t think of that until you’re back on the ground … We may have a lot of cultural and philosophical differences with the humans. We may not see eye to eye on economic issues, or social issues, or many other issues. But every human boy and girl, every pony colt and filly, grieves for the loss of their fathers. Grief is universal. It binds us. Even when nothing else does.”
They continued flying in silence, all the mood for the lighthearted chatter completely gone. Even the sense of satisfaction over the successful intercept seemed to have been killed. Skyfire turned his mind toward other thoughts.
Something about this intercept didn't make sense. The human pilot had indicated that their radio wasn't working, and that's why they hadn't been able to respond to radio calls. But Skyfire knew that the crew members carried portable aviation radios as well, so they would be able to communicate with aircraft from the ground in the event they had to bail out. But those portable radios could also be used in the event that the aircraft's on board radio was not working. Certainly, one of the crew would have thought about that. That meant there was some reason the crew hadn’t want to answer radio calls. They hadn't wanted someone to hear them. They hadn't wanted someone to home in on their radio signal and track their location. They were hiding from someone. And if it had been the Crystal Guard they were trying to hide from, why not answer the radio once it was clear they'd been discovered? No. It wasn't the Crystal Guard they were trying to hide from … but who, and why?
II
The last remnants of Celestia's sun sinking behind the tall Crystal City cityscape told Ice Moon it was almost time to get up. At exactly 20:00 hours, she climbed out of bed, shook her fur and yawned, then licked lightly at her fangs. She made her way to her dresser, picked up a brush, and starting combing out her mane, working the snarls out of its long strands while watching herself in the mirror and trying to keep her gaze focused entirely on her face, doing her best to shut out the image of her sides and back. At exactly 20:10 hours, she finished combing her mane and tail, then stepped in the shower, letting the warm water flow over her fur and her mane. She stepped out of the shower at exactly 20:15 hours, dried off, then went to her kitchen, removing a box of alfalfa sprouts and oat straw from a cabinet. She filled a kettle of water, set it on the stove to boil, poured it over the sprouts and oat straw when it had finished. She stirred the mixture, idly watching the steam rise from it like fog over a pond on a cold morning, and started eating at exactly 20:25 hours. At exactly 20:40 hours, she finished, rinsed out her empty bowl, washed it, and put it back in the cupboard. She went to her closet, pulling open the door and selecting one of her decorative saddle pads. Well, actually, they weren’t decorative at all. All of them were either black, or dark shades of gray or blue that were almost black. They were plain, with no fancy trim or any designs embroidered into them. Hoity Toity would probably have an aneurysm if he ever saw her wardrobe. But her clothing wasn’t intended to be fashionable. The reason she wore clothes was utilitarian, hiding the hideous disfigurements on her body like she wished she could hide the scars on her mind.
She selected a midnight-blue saddle pad with her mouth, placing it over her back and carefully adjusting it to cover her wing joints and her sides where her wings should have been. All of her saddle pads had been cut to have extra long sides to make sure they would cover the area where her wings would normally have folded against her body. It was entirely for her own benefit rather than an attempt to fool others. She knew she couldn’t do that. Had she been a pegasus, she might have been able to pass for an earth pony with the special cut saddle pads. But there were no wingless bat ponies. Wings were what made a bat pony … well, a bat pony. There was no such thing as an earth thestral. She wore the saddle pads so that she didn’t have to see those wing joints, just like she wore her rituals and routines to try to prevent her mind from seeing. Like her feral ancestors, she had nearly a three hundred and sixty degree field of vision. So even when looking forward, she could still see her wing joints and sides. They were a constant, tormenting reminder of that fateful day twenty years ago. She looked in the mirror once again, checking the position of the saddle pad and making a minor adjustment. At exactly 21:00 hours, she left her bedroom, opened her apartment door, and stepped outside.
The muggy warmth of the late spring evening coated her dark gray fur. A gusty wind blew from the southwest and humidity dampened her as if she were in a sauna. Maybe there would be a thunderstorm tonight. That would suit her just fine. It would help get rid of some of the blasted heat. When she’d moved to the Crystal Empire from Canterlot, she’d expected it to be much cooler here. But even this far north, the late spring and summer days could feel like standing in an oven. She turned down the sidewalk and began walking towards her office in the government district of the city not far from the Crystal Palace. The magic powered lamps along the sides of the street were just beginning to light, casting the buildings and sidewalk in an iridescent blue glow. A shadow covered her momentarily as three more bat ponies flew over above her. She didn't look up, but increased her pace to a trot, turning the corner. Crystal Palace loomed in front of her, but she kept her eyes focused on the street. Luna's Moon would be rising right now. But despite the fact that she was a bat pony, a servant of the night, she didn't look up at the sky. She never looked at the sky anymore. Not for the last twenty years.
She turned again, arriving at her office at exactly 21:10 hours. She climbed the stone steps of the building, flanked on both sides by towering crystal statues of ponies holding pan-balance scales in their mouths. The Ponies of Justice, they were called. They each held one forehoof in the air, and their crystal manes and tails flowed as if in a perpetual wind. The pan balance scales they held in their mouths were real, golden scales, not cut crystal. The wind caused the pans to rock back and forth slightly, like a boat being tossed on the waves of a pond. But always, the balances returned to the center, neither side weighing heavier than the other. She passed under the ornately carved pillars guarding the door, pushed it open with a forehoof, and stepped inside, the cool air a welcome relief after the muggy heat outside. She turned down a corridor, passing several doors, before arriving at one labeled Department of International Justice Affairs. She pushed at the door with a forehoof. It made a small creak as it swung inward and she stepped inside.
“Evening, Ice,” a light-brown crystal earth pony said to her in a cheerful voice. He was an intern, still in law school at the Royal Crystal Academy. He was making his way towards the door. She felt her heart flutter a little as they neared each other.
“Evening, Aspen,” she said brightly, the cool relief of the office and the cheery mood of the crystal pony making her forget about the depression that had threatened to go to war on her psyche again. “You have anything exciting today?”
“Just a simple assault case. A visiting griffon got into an argument with a cocky pegasus about who was the fastest flier. Pegasus called her a lumbering, overgrown pussycat. Griffon took a swing at her.”
Ice winced. “She alright?”
“She needed a couple of stitches, but she'll be fine.”
“That's good to hear at least. Well, you have a great evening and night.”
“You too. I have to study tonight, though. Got an exam tomorrow.”
“Which class?”
“Royal Court Procedures and Rules.”
“Ah yes, I remember that class fondly. Although to this day, I’ve never worked a case that was being judged by one of the Princesses themselves. Only the highest profile cases get their attention.”
“Not many agents get to work a case that goes all the way to Royal Court. But every agent has to know the rules and procedures in case they ever get one. Or so my professor says. And with that, I better run if I want to pass my exam tomorrow. Night, Ice.”
“Night,” she responded as he trotted for the door. Just before stepping out, he turned his head over his shoulder and looked at her again.
“Rumor is there's a bit of an unusual case waiting on your desk. Don't know what it is, though,” he said as he walked out the door.
Ice raised an eyelid, intrigue picking at her mind as she made her way to her office. She was the only thestral who worked for the Department of International Justice Affairs. Given the nocturnal schedule of the thestrals, it was a challenge to deal with the legal system, which mostly operated when the Sun was up. But she had adapted. She typically interviewed prisoners first thing in the evening, and then worked on their cases through the night. The evening prisoner interviews had actually turned out to be somewhat of an advantage she had. She had discovered that prisoners were often more relaxed in the evening, making them more likely to cooperate with investigations.
She pushed open the door to her office, letting it swing shut behind her as she entered her dark haven. Her coworkers jokingly referred to it as the Bat Cave. Unlike crystal ponies, who were obsessed with everything shiny, Ice’s office was a veritable temple to the Princess of the Night. Her walls were painted a dark, smoky gray so that they looked like staring up into clouds lit by Moonlight. Instead of the clear glass-topped desks with their quartz decorated legs that dominated the average crystal pony’s office, her desk was solid black limestone with a surface that looked like staring into the night sky on Luna’s New Moon. If the sky had no stars in it, that is. Whereas most crystal ponies used glass prisms as paperweights that refracted light in dizzying arrays of patterns (how could they not be distracted by that?), she used simple, unpolished volcanic rocks that swallowed light rather than spewing it out like some kaleidoscope spewing forth rainbow colored vomit. Most crystal ponies had bright lights mounted on their ceilings, as if they were trying to artificially reproduce the light of Celestia’s Sun itself. Ice had a single dim lamp on her desk, with a nut-brown shade that directed most of the light downward to her desk, allowing very little of it to spit out to the sides. Yes, she supposed the Bat Cave was an apt nickname for her office. The name had a slight tint of racist undertones to it, but she didn’t think her coworkers were being insensitive. She got along with all of them. Most of them. The few times she happened to arrive in the office before most of them had gone home for the day, anyway.
Ice went behind her desk, plopping down unceremoniously on her haunches. She looked at the open files on her desk. There was that changeling who'd been arrested again for posing as a prostitute mare and using it to steal emotions while getting paid for it. But she was already on her way back to the Hive, so she could close that case. And then their was Rover the teenage diamond dog who'd been arrested while trespassing in a gem mine again. She'd have to have a heart-to-heart with him. This was the third time he'd been caught stealing from the gem mines. If it happened a fourth time, she wouldn't be able to keep him out of a stint in the dungeon. She put his file aside for now. She'd talk to him tomorrow evening. Spending a day in the dungeon waiting for her might cause him to finally wake up.
She turned her attention to the file in her inbox now. It must be the unusual case that Aspen had told her about. Her interest piqued, she opened it and began to read.
At approximately 18:58, Pegasus Guard interceptors intercepted a U.S. Marine Corps C-130 transport aircraft in violation of Crystal Empire airspace. The aircraft was flying low with navigation lights turned off. CADC attempted radio contact with no response. Shortly after the attempt to initiate radio contact, scouts reported seeing two small objects being pushed out a door in the side of the aircraft, but they were unable to identify what the objects were. The aircraft was forced to land at Commander Hurricane Field. The five human officers on board exited the aircraft and were taken into custody without incident.
Her eyes narrowed, her tail flicked rapidly like pissed off feline. Anger started to churn inside of her like bile rising from her stomach as she continued to read.
The human officers told the arresting Crystal Guards that they had suffered a radio and navigation system failure which had caused them to accidentally fly into Crystal Empire airspace. Pegasus Guard officers who investigated the claim confirmed that the radio and navigation systems on board the aircraft were, in fact, inoperative. However, the cause of the failure was determined to be a simple blown fuse which they easily located. The fuse was a standard 15 amp tube fuse, so the Pegasus Guard was easily able to find a replacement for it. Upon replacing the fuse, the radio and navigation system appeared to operate normally.
The five human prisoners were transported to Crystal Palace and are currently being held in the dungeon. Interview the prisoners, determine whether any charges are warranted, and make a recommendation. Make this case your top priority. If it turns out this really was just a navigational error, we'd like to release the prisoners and send them on their way home as soon as possible.
She tossed the file onto her desk. It slid across the slick surface like shit sliding on ice, flopping onto the floor, the papers inside scattering like a small explosion. Ice stood up as her anger reached a boiling point. If she hurried, she might still be able to catch the director before he left. If he was working late, that is (he often did.) She trotted around her desk, intentionally stepping on one of the papers with both hooves, grinding one hoof into it and tearing a hole in it before throwing open her office door and storming to the director's office. She kicked open the door as if she were invading a bunker, almost knocking it off its hinges. The gray crystal unicorn stallion was sitting behind his desk, a look of surprise on his muzzle at her lack of courtesy, but she gave him no time to say anything before she started to unload on him.
“Why would you assign this case to me! You know about my history! You know I don't –”
Her heart froze, a shock of fear going through her. In her haste to yell at the director, she had failed to notice that standing next to him, were Princess Cadance, Prince Shining Armor, Princess Luna, and Princess Celestia themselves. She said nothing, forgetting even to bow. Might as well leave and write her resignation letter before she got fired after her little display. It was the director who finally broke the silence.
“I'm uh … gonna head home and let you four handle this if you don't mind, Your Majesties.”
“Not at all,” Cadance responded in her usual calmness. “Have a good evening, Director.”
The gray stallion stepped out from behind his desk, walking towards the door.
“Keep your cool if you want to keep your job. Remember who you’re talking to,” he mumbled under his breath as he passed Ice. She didn't turn her head, just standing and staring slack-jawed at the three princesses and the prince. When the door had closed, Cadance spoke in a calm, kind, and collected manner, no hint of anger at Ice’s obnoxious entrance evident in her tone.
“It was I who requested this case be assigned to you, Ice Moon.”
Ice's stomach felt like she'd swallowed a chunk of lead as she responded.
“But why, Your Majesty? Surely you know of my history. Of what happened. I don't take cases involving humans. I'll do Equestrians, gryphons, changelings, diamond dogs, Saddle Arabians, buffalo, yaks, deer, even the occasional dragon. But not humans.”
“I think it would be good for you to handle this case, Ice,” Cadance responded. Her serene voice almost succeeded in calming Ice. Almost. On one hoof, Ice wanted to take this case. A large, dark part of her mind wanted to find something to charge these humans with. Something serious. Espionage preferably. The shadowy part of her wanted to find some excuse, any excuse, to punish these humans.
But some small part of her mind, much smaller than the dark part, warred with the dark part, doing its best to keep it at bay. That part of her mind told her these humans likely had nothing to do with what happened to her twenty years ago. Some tiny part of her knew it was wrong to hate all of humanity because of what had happened to her. But the dark part of her was very strong and threatened to overwhelm all rationality.
“I want this case assigned to somepony else,” she snapped with more vitriol than she'd intended. “I do not feel that I can be fair or unbiased. Not given what happened.” That was true. She didn't think she could be fair. But it wasn't the real reason she wanted the case reassigned. The truth was, she simply wanted nothing at all to do with humans. Any of them. And that overruled even her desire to punish them.
“The fact that you are worried you will not be able to be unbiased concerns me less than if you had jumped at the opportunity to accept this case. If you had done that, I'd be more concerned that you intended to punish the humans unjustly.”
“Part of me wants to do just that, Your Majesty.”
“I understand. But I believe a larger part of you wants to do what is right. To uphold the values that the post Sombra Crystal Empire is built on, and that we hold dear. It has been twenty years, Ice. You cannot continue to hold this grudge. Continuing grudges on both sides only makes a second war more likely. Eventually, you must put aside your anger and hatred.”
Easy for the Pink Princess of Love to say. Ice was convinced that Cadance didn’t even know how to hate. She shifted her gaze to Celestia, then to Luna. Neither one of them had spoken a single word so far, appearing to defer completely to Cadance. Her mind pleaded with them that one of them would come to her rescue on this.
“Are you two really going to let her do this, Your Majesties? Are you going to go along with this?” she pleaded with her former Commander in Chief, and with Princess Celestia, a strong note of accusation in her voice. But neither Luna nor Celestia took the bait. It was Luna who responded.
“When you requested transfer to the Crystal Empire, you became a subject of Princess Cadance, and Prince Shining Armor, Ice. Neither I nor my sister have any jurisdiction or authority to overrule their decision on this. Besides, my sister and I are in agreement with Princess Cadance. This will be good for you.”
So even my own Night Goddess isn’t going to stand up for me, she thought with bitterness.
But Ice still had one last hope. Shining Armor had jurisdiction here. He was co-ruler with Princess Cadance after all. Perhaps the shining prince would storm the palace, galloping to her rescue? She cast her gaze on him, giving him a pleading look. Come on Shiny. Grow a pair of balls and stand up to your wife, she thought to herself. But all she said was “My Lord?”
“I’m sorry, Ice. But I kind of like sleeping in bed with Cadance instead of on the floor,” he said as if he’d read her mind. He had a slight grin on his muzzle, like he thought it was funny. Ice did not. Judging from Cadance’s frown and slightly narrowed eyes, she didn’t either. Shining Armor wiped the grin off his muzzle and his expression became serious. “The truth is Cady and I discussed this in advance. And we both agreed that this assignment would be good for you.”
So I’ve got a castrated husband and domineering wife team plotting against me to make my life miserable, Ice thought crudely. She turned her eyes away from all four of them now, resisting the urge to stomp her hoof in anger. It was Luna who spoke again.
“You must decide what it is you are loyal to. Are you loyal to your hatred and your desire for revenge? Or are you loyal to your Princesses and Prince and to the values of the Crystal Empire and Equestria?”
“To you, Your Majesty. And to the values of the Crystal Empire,” Ice murmured, feeling a taint of shame in her blood as her eyes drooped towards the ground. It was Celestia who responded, her voice like that of a warm spring day.
“This will likely be a cut and dried case. All you need to do is determine whether their story checks out or not and report your findings and recommendations to Princess Cadance. If it really was just a navigational error on their part, then they will be on their way home in a day or two, and you can be done with this case. You can go right back to working with changelings, gryphons, and diamond dogs.”
Ice was silent for several long moments. Conflicting emotions battled for supremacy inside of her. The desire to punish these humans. The desire to prove she could put aside her personal bias and be fair. The desire for revenge. The desire to show these humans that she had power over their fate. The desire to do her duty and to serve her Princesses, her Prince, and the Crystal Empire. After all, Celestia was right. If this was a simple navigational error, she'd be done with this case in a day or two anyway. But based on the summary she had read, a nagging fear poked at her mind that there was a lot more to this case than was apparent on the surface. And that was true even if she used all of her willpower to put aside her own bias against humans. Something about the simple answer of a navigation error just didn't add up. Finally, she called up all of her willpower and determination and returned her gaze to Cadance.
“Alright. I'll do it, Your Majesty.”
All four monarchs smiled in response. It was Luna who responded.
“I know you will do your best, as you have always done for me. You have never disappointed me, and I know you will not disappoint Princess Cadance and Prince Shining Armor in this matter either.”
Ice wished she had as much confidence in herself as Luna seemed to have in her. Even though she had agreed to take the case, the war was still raging inside of her between giving the humans a fair shake, and finding a way to punish them for what other humans had done to her. Finally, she nodded in response.
“Well, I suppose I better go visit the prisoners, then.” She felt about as much enthusiasm as if she were going to the doctor to have a colonoscopy. Then again, maybe a colonoscopy would be preferable.
“Would you like us to teleport you to the palace with us?” Cadance asked in her always kind voice.
“No … thank you. There are some things about the case I need to think about before I visit them. I'll do that on the way over.” Cadance nodded and smiled in response.
“Remember, please feel free to contact me should you need anything at all. Even if it is just to talk.” Then, a golden aura formed around the Crystal Princess’s horn, and she, together with the other three monarchs, all disappeared with a brief flash of silver light.
Ice shook her head and left the director's office, locking the door behind her and making her way back out to the street. It was completely dark now, but the sidewalks were well lit by the magical street lamps. It had cooled slightly and light raindrops danced in the air, reflecting the light of the lamps like miniature stars. They felt good against her fur, helping to draw out some of the heat her anger had generated. She ran through the summary of the case again as she made her way to the palace.
There were several things about the case and the story the humans had told to the arresting Crystal Guard officers that didn't seem to add up to her. The first, was that shortly after CADC had attempted to make contact with the humans, scouts reported seeing two small objects being dropped from a side door in the aircraft. The fact that they had dropped them shortly after CADC had attempted to contact them by radio also suggested that they had heard the original radio call, but had chosen not to respond to it. However, once they realized they were likely going to be forced to land, they had chosen to dump something they didn't want to be caught with. Likely, they hadn't known they were being physically observed by scouts at the time, and that the dump would be seen. And if they had heard the initial radio call, had they intentionally sabotaged their own radio to make their story about radio and navigation failure sound legitimate? It also seemed likely that given it was a simple blown fuse, they should have been able to figure out the cause and fix it in flight. They'd carry something as basic as replacement fuses on board, wouldn't they? And if this case was going to be so simple, why had Cadance and Shining Armor felt the need to summon Princess Celestia and Princess Luna here all the way from Canterlot? Surely, a few humans making a navigational error and accidentally wandering into the Crystal Empire couldn’t warrant getting Celestia and Luna involved., even if it was a military aircraft that had made the mistake. There was more to this case than any of the four monarchs were letting on.
She entered the palace and started to make her way towards the dungeon. A few guards greeted her, but made no attempt to stop her. She was a familiar face around the dungeon area since she regularly visited the prisoners she worked with. She responded to the greetings of the guards absentmindedly as she continued to turn over the case summary in her mind.
The dead radio and navigation system also didn't explain why they'd been flying with navigation lights turned off. She wasn't an avionics engineer or an aircraft mechanic, but she doubted that the navigation lights would be on the same fuse as the radio and navigation equipment. And why had they been flying so low?
The more she rolled the case over in her mind, the more likely one conclusion seemed to her: The items they pushed out of the aircraft were probably recreational drugs of some sort. Perhaps they'd been delivering them somewhere to make a little extra cash? That would explain why they'd been flying low with navigation lights turned off. It would also explain why they had ignored radio calls. Their own transmitter could be used by human AWACS or other electronic surveillance aircraft to find their location, even from several hundred miles away.
It was also possible that they had been spying, and the items they had dumped from the aircraft were espionage equipment that they hadn't wanted to be caught with. However, that explanation seemed unlikely to her. Why not answer the radio once it was obvious that CADC had found them? It seemed to her that they'd been trying to hide from other human aircraft that would be listening for radio calls. Not from the Crystal Guard. Their behavior fit more with contraband running than with spying.
Of course, as probable as her theory sounded, it was speculation. Definitely not enough to hold them on or charge them with drug trafficking. Not unless ground search crews could find the items they’d dropped from the aircraft. But even though the search area was relatively small, finding two small items dropped over an unpopulated area was likely to take days. As frustrating as it was, she had to acknowledge the fact that she couldn't hold them that long without filing charges that were probably spurious. Unless the ground search team got lucky, the prisoners would probably be on their way home in less than a day.
Two Crystal Earth Pony Guards unlocked the heavy iron door to the dungeon entrance and she started down the ash-gray stone stairs, turning down a corridor and making her way towards the cell block where the humans were being held. Magical torches along the walls of the corridor lit the hall so that the dungeon resembled something out of the medieval era. But the magical torches provided much more light than real torches. Unlike real torches, they also didn’t smoke and release toxins or headache-inducing smells into the air.
The closer she got, the more angry and disgusted she felt, as if she were approaching some kind of noxious fume that made her stomach turn. She could hear the humans talking amongst themselves now and she moved a little slower, using her training from her Bat Team Alpha days to move silently while perking her ears towards the sound. It was unlikely the prisoners would be dumb enough to say anything incriminating, but there was always a chance, especially if they were unaware of how sensitive equine hearing was.
“We're probably gonna spend the rest of our lives in pony prison,” a male voice said with a slight note of fear. The speaker sounded young. Probably in his very early twenties.
“Relax, Boyd,” an older voice responded. “We may not see eye-to-eye on a lot of things with the ponies, but this isn't North Korea. The ponies are reasonable and civilized.”
She waited ten or fifteen more seconds, but nothing further was said. She resumed a normal pace. When she turned the corner, she saw them. Two of the men were dressed in olive colored flight suits and standing near the center of the cell. The other three were dressed in desert camouflage and were sitting on the lower bunks. One was looking at the floor, as if he were counting the number of stones used to build it. The camouflage color of their uniforms was different from what she remembered, but the sight of the humans in their military uniforms immediately sent her mind back to that fateful day. She heard the guns firing, saw the explosion. Felt the brief, searing pain, followed by numbness and shock … She pulled herself back to the present, tearing herself out of the flashback. With a sheer effort of will, she checked her anger, keeping it at bay, and took a few steps closer to the cell. The humans noticed her now, turning to look at her. The three humans who were sitting down stood up and fell into a loose formation behind the two standing ones.
“My name is Ice Moon. I'm an agent for the Department of International Justice Affairs. I've been assigned to your case. My job is to investigate the case, interview relevant ponies, interview you, determine if charges are warranted, determine appropriate punishment, and then make a recommendation to Her Majesty. As of right now, no charges have been filed against you. Since we are not currently in a state of war, you are not being held as prisoners of war. Instead, you are simply being held for violation of Crystal Empire airspace while I do my investigation. You are, of course, not obligated to answer any questions. However, the more willing you are to cooperate with my investigation, the more likely it is that I can have you out of here and on your way home in less than a day. Assuming the story you told the arresting Crystal Guard officers checks out, that is.” She spoke to them in their own language. She could speak English quite well, with only a hint of Equestrian accent to betray that she wasn’t a native speaker. She did her best to maintain a neutral tone, trying not to let the anger she felt slip into her voice.
The man who appeared to be the oldest spoke.
“I'm Colonel Stetson. This is Lieutenant Thompson, Lieutenant Dalton, Sergeant Boyd, and Sergeant Newman,” he said, waving a hand at each one in turn. Ice cast her eyes on each of them as Stetson said their name. Except for Colonel Stetson himself, they all appeared to be young. Probably in their early to mid twenties. Even Stetson himself, didn't look like he could be older than thirty. But wrinkles under his eyes, a persistent frown creasing the edges of his mouth, and a few gray strands in his otherwise chestnut hair told of someone who had aged much faster than he should have. Someone who had seen long years of service in a combat zone that had taken a toll on him as surely as an aging spell cast by a unicorn. He had a tired look about him, as if he'd seen more horror than anyone should have to see in an entire lifetime.
“Would you care to tell me about your service divisions?” she asked.
“Myself and Lieutenant Thompson are with OSA. Lieutenant Dalton, and Sergeants Boyd and Newman are with MARSOC.”
“Special ops, huh?” she said, turning her attention to Dalton.
“Yes, Ma'am,” Dalton responded.
“What uh… what kind of charges could we be looking at?” Stetson asked. She returned her attention to him. There had been no fear in the question. He had asked it almost as if he had been asking what the weather forecast was. It was the voice of experience, confirming her earlier judgment that he was someone who had spent a long career in the military. Probably in war zones. She felt her anger starting to boil again.
“The most serious potential charge I could imagine at this point would be espionage. However, I think that's very unlikely, provided the Pegasus Guards currently combing through your aircraft don't find any reconnaissance equipment.”
She narrowed her eyes imperceptibly. The one named Boyd was looking at her. Looking at her back and side areas. The hazel eyes in his young face watched her as if she were some kind of experimental test subject. As if she were the one in the cage and not him. She bristled with contempt, waiting for the question she knew was coming. Waiting … waiting …
“Did you lose your wings in the war?”
“Yes,” she answered simply and in a monotone voice. He didn't have to say which war he was talking about.
“Both of them?”
“No … Just one of them. I had the other one surgically removed. One wing is useless for flying, and terrible for balance when moving quickly on the ground. I had to learn to live life as an earth pony.”
“What division you serve in?”
“Bat Team Alpha,” she responded, letting a hint of annoyance creep into her voice now. He nodded slightly, but his expression changed somewhat at finding out she had been a member of Equestria's most elite Special Forces unit. It seemed to be an expression of … admiration and respect? Perhaps he also felt a bit of camaraderie with her, given he served in special ops. But it was a feeling she certainly did not share.
“I know a friend,” the one named Boyd continued. “Was a Navy Seal. You know the Seals?”
“I know what the Seals are,” she responded, her irritation growing by the second, a brewing thunderhead waiting to spawn a tornado as she stiffened her stance. She flicked her tail like a whip, an equine body language sign that Boyd apparently missed, or didn’t know how to interpret.
“Yeah … Anyhow, he was on a mission to destroy one of your key communication outposts. It went badly. He was hit low by a hellfire spell from a unicorn. The spell burned so hot it literally vaporized both of his legs. The damage was so extensive they couldn't give him prosthetics. Been in a wheelchair now for the last twenty years. He'll spend the rest of his life in it.”
She paused for a few moments. Then the lightning and thunder erupted from the churning storm inside of her. She directed all of her pent up fury at Boyd. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? Or is it supposed to make me feel guilty about the fact that we gave you guys back every bit as much as we got from you?”
His look changed to one of shock and bewilderment, as if he hadn't the slightest understanding at all of why she had gotten angry and responded as coldly as she had. He cast his eyes downward, looking at the floor.
“I'm sorry … I didn't mean … I just thought ….” he stammered.
She took a deep breath, forcing the raging tornado of anger inside of her back down to Spring thunderstorm level. Boyd was young. She guessed he had probably only been two or three years old when the war had happened. None of them looked like they could have been older than ten.
“I'm not here to swap war stories with you. I'm here to interview and investigate, determine if charges are warranted, and if not, get you out of here and on your way back home,” she responded as calmly as she could manage. “Now tell me exactly what happened, and how you ended up in Crystal Empire airspace.”
“There's not much to tell that we didn't already tell the Crystal Guards who arrested us,” Colonel Stetson responded. He then proceeded to tell much the same story she had read in the summary. They had been on their way from Afghanistan to Ramstein Air Base in Germany. They had suffered an electrical failure affecting their radio and navigation systems. With no navigation system and no visual landmarks when they had been over the ocean, combined with a weather change that had caused a strong wind they were not aware of at the time, they had drifted off course, crossing over the coast far from where they thought they had been, which had caused them to wander into Crystal Empire airspace. She listened intently until he had finished his story.
“You dropped something from the aircraft,” she stated as a simple fact.
“Ma'am?”
“Our scouts saw you drop two objects from the aircraft. What were they?”
“Just some trash. Empty coffee cups, half eaten food. That sort of thing. It was hot in the aircraft and the food was kind of starting to smell.” He hadn't missed a beat when he'd said it. Hadn't paused or hesitated. But she knew the story was specious. The question had caught him off guard. He hadn't expected it and had to come up with an answer on the spot. She could smell the change in his scent. See the barely detectable shift in his posture. Human soldiers were trained not to give any verbal or visual cues when they were lying under interrogation. But often times, they couldn't hide it from their scent, or from the subtle signals they gave in their body language. Ponies were instinctively very good about sensing emotions through scents and body language. Signals that humans often didn’t even know they were giving.
But the fact that he was lying about what they'd dropped from the aircraft still left her with nothing. She couldn't prove he was lying, nor could she prove that whatever they had dropped was incriminating. The best she could do right now was charge them with littering, which was a petty infraction and certainly not an offense she could recommend a dungeon sentence for.
“Why were you flying with your nav lights turned off? And so low to the ground?” she asked.
“Special ops usually fly dark and low. We fly with nav lights off to make us less visible, and we fly low so we don't show up on radar. Insurgents have a few radar guided mobile SAM units. Hard to find and destroy cause they move them around a lot. They typically won't harass escorted transports because if they turn on their radar, they'll light up the SAM warning systems in the fighters. Then they'll end up eating an AGM-88. But when they see that we're alone … sometimes they like to take a shot at us.”
“Yeah, but once you were outside of hostile territory, why not turn the nav lights on?”
“Guess we just forgot. We're almost always flying in hostile territory, so we're so used to flying with them turned off that sometimes it just slips our minds to turn them on when we leave hostile airspace.”
She couldn't tell if he was lying this time. Unlike the question about the objects they dropped from the aircraft, he'd probably been expecting the question about the nav lights. She still detected nervousness in his scent. A lingering odor like stale cigarette smoke. But that could be residual if he hadn't recovered from the question about the dropped objects yet. Her instincts told her he was lying again, and that the truth was they'd been trying to hide from someone, but that it was not the Crystal Empire they'd been trying to hide from. But then, she wasn't entirely certain she could trust her own instincts. Could it be bias due to her dislike of humans in general? A product of her desire to find some reason to punish these humans? As much as it pained her, she had to admit that was a possibility if she wanted to do her job properly and without violating the values of the Crystal Empire and disappointing Princess Cadance and Prince Shining Armor.
“And there's nothing else you care to tell me?” she asked, glancing at all of them, inviting any of them to answer. None of them responded. It seemed they had all decided in advance that Colonel Stetson would do all the speaking for them. She had considered separating them and questioning each one of them individually, but she doubted it would do any good. They'd had plenty of time in the aircraft to discuss the story they would tell and make sure there wouldn't be any inconsistencies.
“There's nothing more to tell, really,” Stetson responded.
“Very well. Then I will be back to see you again at this time tomorrow. By that time, the Pegasus Guard investigation of your aircraft should be finished, and I should be able to tell you what charges, if any, you will face. Assuming your story checks out, you will probably be on your way home the morning after that. In the meantime, if you need anything, ask the dungeon guards.”
“Thank you, ma'am,” Colonel Stetson responded with a slight nod of his head. She nodded in response, but said nothing. Then, she turned and left them.
As she made her way out of the dungeon, she mulled over their case and what she had learned. At least some of their story had been a lie. Of that, she was certain. She suspected they were telling the truth about accidentally entering Crystal Empire airspace and as such, they had not intended any threat towards the Crystal Empire. Because of that, she strongly suspected the Pegasus Guard would not find any reconnaissance equipment aboard the aircraft. That brought a frown to her muzzle. It's unlikely she'd be able to charge them with espionage.
But, the actions they had taken during the flight also made her certain they were trying to hide from someone. She definitely did not believe their story that what they had chucked out of the aircraft was empty coffee cups and spoiling food. The more she thought about it, the more likely it seemed that her narcotics theory was correct. They'd been drug running and had disposed of the evidence once they'd realized they were probably going to be forced to land. If she could charge the humans with drug trafficking, that would be almost as good as being able to charge them with espionage. She'd be able to keep them in the dungeon for a very long time, she thought with a dark sense of glee. But that possibility was now a race against the clock. The ground team trying to find the objects they had dropped would have to find them before the team searching the aircraft finished their investigation. If that team finished first and found no evidence of espionage, she'd have to release the prisoners. The Pegasus Guard would escort them out of Crystal Empire airspace, and that would be the end of it. Even if the dropped items did turn out to be drugs, she wouldn't be able to do anything with the evidence once the humans had already left the Crystal Empire.
Her thoughts turned to the young Sergeant Boyd who had asked about her wing and told her about his friend who had lost his legs in the war. She felt a slight twitch of guilt poking at her. It hadn't really been nice of her to snap at him like she had. After all, he certainly had nothing to do with her injury. He wasn't even old enough to remember the war. He'd probably been one or two years old at the time.
She quickly hardened herself again, pinching off that line of thought like putting a kink in a running garden hose. She didn't have to be nice to the human prisoners. She didn't even have to be courteous to them. She just had to be fair. And it's not like she was planning to frame them. To punish them for a crime based on evidence she didn't have. She just hoped that they had committed a crime, and that the evidence would be found so that she could punish them. There was nothing wrong with that, was there?
III
Ice turned and walked up the stone stairs towards her office just as the disappearing shadows indicated Celestia’s Sun was dropping below the Crystal City skyline. It was shaking up to be another hot and muggy night, the light rain of the previous evening having done nothing to break the sweltering heat. A light sheen of sweat hung on her midnight gray coat, making it shine with wetness in the evening Sun. Crickets chirped their mating calls and the loud buzzing of cicadas droned like construction ponies with buzz saws. Again, a thunderstorm would be nice to take some of the Luna damned heat out of the air. She passed under the familiar shadows of the Ponies of Justice with the pan balance scales in their mouths and entered the building, absentmindedly making her way to the Department of International Justice Affairs section of the office. She pushed open the door with a forehoof.
“Evening, Ice,” Aspen said, passing her on her way into the office. It was practically a ritual. The crystal earth pony always seemed to be leaving right about the time she arrived for her shift. That was a pity, really. Every time she was near him, her heart fluttered just a little, her body got just a little bit warmer. She had, once or twice, even considered asking him on a date. But other than the fact that he was half her age, she doubted any earth pony would want to date a thestral who had basically been transformed into an earth pony with fangs by losing one wing in an explosion, and having the other surgically removed. Nevertheless, she still wished she had more time to talk to him. But it seemed they were always ships passing in the night.
“See ya, Aspen. Have a great evening and night,” she responded, completing their evening ritual of greeting and parting as he stepped out into the office hallway. Ice wasted no time before going to her own office. A new folder sat in her inbox which she quickly picked up, pulling out the report inside of it. As she expected, it was from the Pegasus Guards who had been searching the aircraft. Not surprisingly, the report stated that they had found no camera equipment, audio listening equipment, or any other reconnaissance equipment on board. She cursed under her breath. Now she’d have to rely on the ground team finding the objects they had thrown out of the aircraft. But there was nothing in her inbox from them. Time was rapidly ticking away.
She left her office, stepped out into the sweltering heat again, and made her way to Crystal Palace. Upon entering, she turned left, making her way down a lavish corridor lined with elegant tapestries depicting various royal crests, famous ponies in the history of the Crystal Empire, and so on. She stopped when she reached two grand doors, adorned with crystal trim. Two replicas of the Crystal Heart were embedded in the doors about half way up, reflecting the light of the torches. Four Crystal Unicorn Guards were stationed outside. She addressed the highest ranking one.
“I need to see Her Majesty about my case.”
“Princess Cadance has retired for the evening. However, she did say to admit you.”
He motioned to the three other guards who unlocked the massive doors and pulled them open. Ice nodded her thanks and stepped inside. The doors closed and locked behind her with a clang that echoed off the long corridor. She made her way to the double doors of the royal apartment’s interior. One of the Crystal Empire Guards stationed outside turned and called through the door.
“Your Majesty, Agent Ice Moon is here to see you.”
The edges of the door glowed with a golden aura and opened. Ice stepped into the receiving area of Cadance’s royal apartment. A large hearth made from pink quartz adorned the wall to her left, although thanks to the muggy temperatures, there was no fire burning in it. In the center of the room was a sparkling crystal table with plush pink sitting cushions along its length. Princess Cadance stood waiting for her, although she was not standing behind the table. It seemed she wanted to keep the meeting informal. Ice extended one foreleg, folded the other, and bowed.
“Please, stand,” Cadance said. Ice did so. “You have an update on the case involving the human soldiers?”
“I do, Your Majesty.” She then proceeded to tell the Crystal Princess everything she had learned from talking with them. She also told them about the Pegasus Guard search of the aircraft, and that they had found nothing to suggest that this had been a reconnaissance mission.
“Do you think the humans are telling the truth?” Cadance asked when Ice had finished.
“I think some parts of their story are true, but I think they are lying about some other parts. I think they are telling the truth about accidentally entering the Crystal Empire. I don’t think they intended any harm or threat to the Crystal Empire. But they also claimed that the objects the scouts saw them drop from the aircraft were just trash. Coffee cups, spoiling food, that sort of thing. I’m almost certain that part of their story is a lie. The fact that they dropped the objects right after CADC made their first attempt to contact them by radio also suggests to me that they heard the radio call and then, knowing they were going to be forced to land, dumped something they didn’t want to be caught with. I don’t think they realized they were being physically watched by scouts. I’m also inclined to believe they may have sabotaged their own radio to make their story about radio failure sound credible. The fix was trivial. They should have easily been able to fix it in flight. Spare fuses seem like the kind of thing they would have available, although apparently they didn’t.”
“And do you have any guesses as to what’s really going on?” Cadance asked.
“My best guess is that they dropped narcotics. That they were probably drug trafficking. The false radio failure, lack of nav lights, and low altitude they were flying at suggests they were trying to avoid detection. It seems clear to me that they were trying to hide from someone, but I don’t think it was us. After all, once they knew we’d discovered them, why continue to ignore radio calls? It had to be someone else they didn’t want to find them. I also don’t think the Crystal Empire was the intended destination for the narcotics. I think they just dumped them to avoid getting caught with them once they realized they were probably going to be forced to land.” She sighed, looking at the floor. “Of course, this is all guesswork on my part. I can’t prove any of it.”
Cadance nodded and was quiet for a few seconds before speaking again.
“What’s your recommendation?”
Disappointment, mixed with a bit of anger welled up inside Ice as she responded.
“Charge them with littering. Defer the payment of the fine since I doubt any of them are carrying any cash on them. The understanding is that they must mail their fine payment to us. Of course, in reality, we both know that once they are outside of the Crystal Empire, we’ll never see payment. But there’s nothing we can do about that. I’ll get them to plead guilty to littering by agreeing to seal the charge so that their own military commanders won’t find out about it. Assuming they agree and plead guilty, I’ll have them on their way home tomorrow. If the American government’s got any dirt on them, let them deal with it.”
Cadance nodded. “Very well.” Then she smiled, raising a forehoof and placing it on Ice’s shoulder. Ice looked up at her, her face reflecting the confusion she felt.
“I’m very proud of you, Ice Moon,” Cadance said with a smile. “And I know Celestia and Luna, and Prince Armor will be as well. You handled this case with integrity, you upheld the values of the Crystal Empire and of Equestria, and you didn’t let your personal biases and grudges influence your judgement. All four of us knew you would not disappoint us.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Ice said with a forced enthusiasm that did not match how she actually felt.
“If there is nothing else, I’ll let you get back to your work.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Ice bowed again, then turned and left the royal apartment.
As she made her way towards the dungeon, the feeling of disappointment began to rise in her again. She had really hoped she’d be able to charge the humans with something more than a petty littering offense. The dark part of her mind had really been looking forward to punishing them for her injury of twenty years ago. The injury that had ended her military career, changed her life forever, and made her … not even a thestral anymore. After all, weren’t wings and flying one of the things that made a bat pony … well, a bat pony? She tried to console herself with the knowledge that she’d maintained her integrity. She’d lived up to the ideals of The Crystal Empire, upheld the Uniform Code of Pony Justice, and served her Princess and Prince well. Cadance had even told her that she was proud of her. And besides, if nothing else, at least the humans would be out of her mane by tomorrow and she could be done with this case. She reminded herself she hadn’t wanted anything to do with this case or its damn humans to begin with.
She decided to visit Rover the diamond dog first. After all, she’d already made him sit in his cell for more than a day. The longer she could delay meeting with the humans, the more time she could buy the ground team in the hopes that they might find the incriminating evidence she was certain existed. And besides, she reasoned, the humans weren’t going anywhere for at least another day anyway. It wouldn’t hurt them to wait an extra hour to meet with her. Let them sweat about their fate for a bit longer.
She approached Rover’s cell, finding the dog crouched in a corner. There was a bed and two sitting cushions in his cell, but the dog had chosen to sit on the floor, his knees drawn up to his chest, his head buried between them. He was a pathetic and pitiable sight. He looked mangey. Large clumps of his fur were missing as if he’d gotten into a fight with a gryphon and her claws had shaved his fur for him. What fur he had looked clean and his scent was relatively fresh, but that was probably only because the guards had made him take a shower before they locked him up. He was probably homeless again. And probably going through withdrawal again.
“I wish I could say I’m happy to see you again, Rover. But I’m not,” she called out to the canine.
He raised his head from his knees, looking at her with a pitiful expression on his face, but he said nothing in response. She felt genuine compassion for the poor dog and motioned for the guards to open the cell door. They did so, and she stepped inside, the guards closing the door behind her. She went over to the corner he was in and sat on her haunches in front of him.
“Rover, you can’t keep doing this.” She spoke quietly, her voice was laced with concern. “This is the third time you’ve been caught sneaking into the Crystal Empire and stealing from the gem mines. If it happens again, I won’t be able to get you off without a dungeon sentence. I let you stay in here overnight so you’d get a taste of it. But if you do this again, it’s gonna be ninety to a hundred and twenty days in here.”
“Better off in pony dungeon,” Rover responded in broken Equestrian with a heavy Dimondian accent. “Pony guards feed me. Only vegetable food, but they feed me. Give me medicine for missing fur. Give me pills that stop headaches. Give me showers. Better off in pony dungeon.”
She felt her heart ripping in two for the pitiful canine in front of her. “To spend the rest of your life in and out of dungeons, prisons, and jails? Rover, I know that’s not what you want. And you know it too.”
“Nothing else to do. Can’t get job. Can’t get paid. Can’t buy food. Can’t afford place to live.”
“Your social worker in Dimondia told me you dropped out of school again. And that you left the turnaround house. She also tells me you got caught with roach weed again.” Ice thought of the humans in the cell down the hall and the narcotics she was sure they had been trying to traffic. It was because of bastards like them that teens ended up like Rover. Not that the humans would actually care, as long as their drug trafficking made them a pretty profit.
“Classes too hard. Won’t let stay in boarding house if not going to classes.”
“The classes only seem too hard because you’re sabotaging yourself with the roach weed. It screws up your mind. Makes it so you can’t remember what you learned in class. It’s also what’s causing your headaches and making it impossible for you to concentrate on your studies.”
“Not smart enough,” Rover said, dropping his head between his knees again. Ice reached out with a forehoof, placing it under his muzzle and pulling up gently to lift his head and make him look at her again.
“Yes, you are smart enough. And if you stay off the roach weed, and you apply yourself and study hard, I know you’ll do well.”
“Need help.”
“Then ask for it. That’s what the counselors at the turnaround house are there for. That’s what your social worker is there for. You don’t have to go it alone. There are dogs who want to help you. There are ponies who want to help you. I want to help you.”
The diamond dog lowered his eyes and she took her forehoof away from his muzzle. He kept his eyes lowered, but didn’t drop his head again. A few seconds later, he looked at her again, a questioning, pleading look in his eyes.
“You’ll get me out of pony dungeon?”
“I’ll get you out. But on one condition. You have to promise me that when you get home, you’ll ask for help. That you’ll stay clean, and that you’ll go back to school. And you have to promise me you won’t quit trying until you graduate.”
He was silent for several moments before responding.
“Promise.”
“Good. And make sure you keep that promise, because if you end up back in here a fourth time, they are gonna think I’m being too soft on you. That and I’m probably gonna have to put the moves on your social worker to get her to agree to this. So if you break your promise, you are gonna get me in trouble.” She said it with a tone that was halfway between serious and light-hearted.
“Promise to keep promise … If I graduate, you will come to my graduation?”
She smiled at him. “When you graduate, I promise I will come.”
She reached out with her forelegs, pulling him into a hug, reminded of the reason she’d gone to law school after her military career had been ended. It was because of moments like this. Moments where she could take someone who had hit rock bottom, pick them up, and give them hope that there was a brighter future ahead for them, if they only dared to reach out and take it. She released him from her hug and stood up.
“Guards,” she said, over her shoulder. The two guards opened the cell door for her and she stepped out. After they had closed and locked the cell, she spoke to the senior guard.
“Arrange for a transport to take him to the Dimondian border checkpoint the morning after tomorrow. I’ll contact his social worker and arrange for someone to pick him up there.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the guard responded. She turned and looked at Rover again.
“You’ll be out of here the morning after next. I’d like to get you out of here tomorrow, but I doubt I’ll be able to coordinate transports with your social worker that quickly. And remember, the next time I see you, it better be at your graduation,” she said with a smile.
“Promise you won’t see me again before graduation.”
“Take care of yourself, Rover. Be good and stay in school,” she said as she turned and made her way down the corridor towards the cell block where the humans were being held. She savored the moment with Rover, the moment that allowed her to forget about her injury and the depression that came with it. She felt alive. She knew what she was living for. For the moment, everything was right with the world. She treasured moments like this. They didn’t come nearly often enough. And when they did come, they were fleeting, like a falling flower from a cherry blossom tree before it hit the ground.
The sight of the human prisoners caused her mood to turn dark again, the thunderstorm of emotion to redevelop inside her. She reminded herself that they’d be out of her mane by the end of tomorrow. All five of them rose from their bunks as she approached. Except for Colonel Stetson who maintained his usual, experienced coolness, all of them had anxious looks on their faces. They were waiting for her to pronounce their fate. The thought gave her a feeling of satisfaction. If she couldn’t punish them with a dungeon sentence, at least she could savor their anxiety. All except Stetson. She resisted the urge to glare at him. He was like a rock stuck in the frog of her hoof. It annoyed her to no end that she couldn’t get under his skin like she could the others. None of them said anything, so she spoke first.
“The Pegasus Guard has completed their search of your aircraft and found nothing of concern. So there aren’t going to be any espionage charges.” The tension drained from their faces like water from a tub after the stopper had been pulled. A pity, really. She continued speaking.
“But there is a littering charge because of the … trash you threw out of the aircraft. It’s a petty infraction, of course. No jail time. But there is a fine of sixty-four bits. That works out to about eighty American dollars. Since we know you likely aren’t carrying any cash on you, we are willing to defer payment of the fine if you’ll agree to mail the payment to us when you get home.”
Of course, she knew full well the Crystal Empire would almost certainly never see the money. She paused for a moment before continuing. She really didn’t want to tell them what she had to say next. I have to be fair to them, she told herself, then continued.
“My advice to you is to plead guilty to the littering charge. If you do that, I’ll seal the charge, meaning that the U.S. Marines will never find out about it – unless you choose to tell them, of course – and you’ll be out of here by tomorrow morning. Of course, you have the right to contest the charge. But if you do that, we’ll have to hold you here until a court date can be set, and the charge will become public record because under the Uniform Code of Pony Justice, court proceedings are public. I’d also have to notify the U.S. Marines of the charge because they’d want to know why we are continuing to hold you. There’s little point in contesting the charge since you’ve already confessed to the littering and there were witnesses. So you are almost guaranteed to lose if it goes to court. So again, my advice to you is to plead guilty to the charge and agree to the deferred payment.”
It had been so tempting not to offer that advice. Part of her hoped they would contest the charge. If they did, she’d have a reason to hold them, which would give the ground team more time to find the objects they had dropped. Those objects were incriminating. Probably seriously incriminating. She thought of Rover again, and the amount of damage that narcotics trafficking did to teenage lives.
Colonel Stetson looked at his five companions. Within a few moments all of them had nodded. He looked back to her and nodded as well.
“Alright. We’ll plead guilty to the littering charge.”
She nodded, suppressing a frown. “Very well, I need to return to my office and draw up some papers for you to sign. I’ll be back in an hour or so. Tomorrow morning, a transport will take you to your aircraft and the Pegasus Guard will escort you out of Crystal Empire airspace.”
“We’ll uh … need fuel. We burned up more than we intended because of our … accidental detour.”
“Speak to the commander at CHF when you get there. He should be able to arrange it. They do accept U.S. Department of Defense purchase orders. Occasionally they do get U.S. military aircraft at the field on … legitimate and approved flights.”
Colonel Stetson shifted slightly and his subtle body language said had finally produced a minor flesh wound. He was a cool customer who didn’t get nervous or frightened. But apparently, even he wasn’t above getting embarrassed over his navigation blunder.
“I’ll be back shortly with the papers you need to sign,” she said, turning and starting to trot away from the cell.
“Thank you, ma’am … For helping us to get this straightened out so quickly.”
She stopped in her tracks as a feeling almost like an electric shock went through her. This time, Stetson had caught her off guard. The last thing she’d expected from any of them was a thank you. She shivered slightly as a crack formed in the wall she had put up and been reinforcing by adding layers and layers of new bricks for the last twenty years. No, I’m not going to let them tear down my wall with their bombs and missiles. She acted quickly, patching up the crack that had formed.
“It’s my job,” was all she said, without turning to look back at them as she started trotting again, making her way towards the dungeon exit, and eventually, the palace exit.
After a brief trot, she turned and started to climb the stairs of her office building. The two Ponies of Justice loomed above her, bathed in the lights that shined on them at night. The walkway lights caused their giant shadows to loom over her. She refused to look up at them – she never looked up anymore – but it was as if their crystal eyes were boring holes into her mind. Into her very soul. Watching her. Weighing her on their scales. Judging her. She shivered, a sense of coldness flowing through her veins like liquid ice despite the oppressive heat. Would she be found wanting?
She sped up to a brief canter until she was out from under their shadows and the light from the magical street lamps shined on her coat once again. “You’re cracking up, Ice,” she told herself, slowing down again and pushing the doors to the building open.
As she walked towards her office, she thought about Colonel Stetson and his apparent embarrassment over his navigational blunder that had brought them into the Crystal Empire. He’d blamed a navigation system failure. However, she had decided that their story about nav failure was probably false. That they had deliberately sabotaged their own radio and navigation system sometime before landing. They probably really had made a navigation error and hadn’t intended to enter the Crystal Empire. But if navigation system failure hadn’t caused it, then what had? Stetson’s look and his calm, unshakable demeanor suggested he was an experienced pilot. Probably with tens of thousands of flight hours. Not the type of pilot who would normally make an error like that. Was it nervousness? Preoccupation with some fear about being discovered or caught? Something definitely didn’t add up with all of this.
She turned her thoughts away from that. After all, it didn’t matter anymore. The humans would be out of her mane by tomorrow morning. And like she’d said to Cadance, if the Americans had some dirt on these Marines? Let them deal with it.
She entered her office, grabbing the strap for her saddle bag in her mouth before flinging it off of her and onto her desk. After that, she contacted Rover’s social worker. The social worker was hesitant, and as Ice had expected, was not thrilled with giving the dog another chance in the turnaround house. It took a lot of finessing on Ice’s part, and a lot of emphasizing that Rover really intended to keep the promise he had made. Eventually, the social worker agreed, although a transport couldn’t be arranged in time to get him out the next day. No surprise there. He was gonna have to wait until the morning after. She thanked the social worker before ending the conversation. She took a few moments to enjoy the feeling she got from helping Rover and others like him, then let the moment fade into anger and darkness as she turned her thoughts to the humans again.
She turned on her computer. Although computers had existed in Equestria before contact with humans, their use was not widespread outside of being used to power video arcade machines. It was only after contact with humans that Ice herself had started using one, although she really only used it on the rare occasions when she absolutely couldn’t avoid communicating with humans. Equestria and the Crystal Empire had established private and secure instant messaging systems with several government offices in various human countries, and it seemed the quickest way to communicate with them, as well as the fastest way to get a response. Best of all, it meant she didn’t actually have to talk to them and hear their monkey-like voices. She opened a shell window and begin to type using the special keyboard designed for ponies.
% ptalk gfaulkner::usmc.us.mil
Ponytalk v 5.8, Connecting to usmc.us.mil . . . . . . . .
Connection established … U.S. Marine Corps, General Faulkner
Ice Moon: You there?
General Faulkner: I’m here.
Ice Moon: Couldn’t find anything on your boys. Releasing them and sending them home.
General Faulkner: Good to hear. Thx for expediting this matter.
Ice Moon: We were able to fix their radio / nav systems. They will fly out tomorrow morning. Pegasus Guard Interceptors will escort them to the border.
General Faulkner: Negative. Insist that you NOT allow them to leave on their own. Will send transport to get them and new aircrew to fly their plane home.
She raised an eyelid at that, her curiosity burning like hot oil. She started to type a message asking him why. She stopped, pressed the delete key several times. What did she care why? If that’s how they want to do it, fine with her. Let them deal with the humans. They’d be out of her mane tomorrow, she reminded herself for the umteenth time.
Ice Moon: If that’s how you want to do it. Will transport them to CHF where their aircraft is. You will need to contact General Firefly at CADC for permission and to file special flight plan.
General Faulkner: Will do.
Ice Moon: Anything else?
General Faulkner: Don’t think so. Goodnight, Ice
Ice Moon: Goodnight.
Connection closed.
%
That was definitely an interesting twist. Curiosity pestered her. Like a buzzing fly she’d slap away with her tail, but that kept returning for another go at her. She tried, rather unsuccessfully now, to remind herself again that she didn’t care. If she couldn’t punish the humans, then she just wanted them gone. But the desire to have them gone was rapidly being overwhelmed by a burning desire to know just what was really going on here.
She opened a filing cabinet next to her desk, fishing out a folder and removing several forms and documents from it. She spent the next several minutes filling out various spots on the forms, explaining the agreement she had made with the human prisoners. When she had finished, she placed them into her saddle bag, then grabbed the strap in her mouth, slinging it back over her and buckling it in place before leaving her office again, passing under the giant shadows of the Ponies of Justice staring down on her with their scales again. She emerged from underneath them and made her way along the now very familiar route to the palace. As she walked, she thought about the conversation with General Faulkner. It hadn’t occurred to her before, but his decision to send a transport to get the human prisoners would delay their departure for at least two or three days. By that time, there was a very good chance the ground search team would have found the objects they had dropped from the aircraft. She smiled at the thought, her desire to punish the humans burrowing itself to the surface of her mind again.
She entered the palace, making her way down to the dungeon and over to the humans. They were all lying in their bunks, but stood up when she approached.
“Alright. I just have some forms for you to sign acknowledging that you are pleading guilty and acknowledging that you agree to pay the deferred fine after you leave. The forms also acknowledge my part of the agreement in sealing the littering charge so it won’t be public knowledge.”
She used her mouth to open her saddle bag, taking out the forms and passing them through the bars of the cell, giving one to each of the humans. Then, she gave them each a pen, and gave the paper containing the details of the agreement to Colonel Stetson. He read over the agreement, his companions gathering around him and looking over his shoulder. When he had finished, he looked at them all. None of them offered any objections. He signed the form he had been given and waited for the others to sign their own forms. He collected them all and passed them through the bars again. She took them in her mouth and put them back in her saddle bag.
“Alright, that should be it,” she said. “I probably won’t be seeing you again. In a few days, you’ll be transported to CHF field and you can leave.”
The humans looked at each other for a moment, their expressions uncertain. Then, Colonel Stetson returned his attention to her.
“An hour ago you told us we’d be able to leave in the morning. Now you are saying it will be a few days?” He had a note of accusation in his voice. A distinctive impression of mistrust and sense that he had been betrayed was evident in his tone.
“I’d thought you would be able to leave in the morning. But the U.S. Marine Corps was very insistent that we not allow you to leave on your own. They are sending a transport to get you, and another crew to fly your aircraft home.”
Colonel Stetson, turned and looked at the rest of his companions. Again, their scent and their body language gave them away. They were nervous … no, they were terrified. All except Colonel Stetson himself. As usual, he was a pillar of calmness and unreadability. Shortly, all of the humans nodded at Stetson, as if giving their consent for some priorly agreed on plan of action he was to invoke should things go badly. Stetson turned his attention back to her and spoke in a halting tone. For the first time, he seemed unnerved.
“Ma’am … At this time … On behalf of myself and my companions, I formally request that we be given asylum in the Crystal Empire.”
Ice felt as if she’d been struck, her jaw practically dropping to the floor. Her mind was blank. She knew she should give a response, but she could think of nothing to say.
IV
Ice picked her jaw up off the floor and flicked her tail once as the shock of what Colonel Stetson had said began to wear off. An explosion of words suddenly came to her. She laid her ears back and erupted, lashing her tail the whole time.
“Are you kidding me? After all the trouble I went through to get you out of here as soon as possible? And now you tell me you want to stay?” she shouted.
None of the humans responded. Looking at her as if they were waiting for her to calm down. She turned abruptly, paced a few times, high-stepping angrily. There were plenty more words ready to explode from her mouth. What kind of game were these humans trying to play with her? She took a deep breath, forcing the raging inferno back down to a slow burn. She turned around and looked at them again.
“Alright, what did you do?”
“Ma’am?” Colonel Stetson asked with a look of confusion on his face.
“People generally don’t ask for asylum in a foreign country unless they’re on the run from the law in their own country. Are you deserters or something? What did you do?”
“We’re uh … accused of killing an allied Afghan militia commander. But we’re innocent.”
“All of you are innocent?”
“Yes. We can all vouch for each other because we were all together on the day when the murder is supposed to have happened.”
Or you could all be covering for each other, Ice thought but didn’t say. Instead, she said, “But if you came here seeking asylum, why didn’t you ask right away? Why go through this whole song and dance of a navigation and radio system failure?” The raging fire inside of her was down to a slow burn and was speaking calmly now.
“The navigation error was true. We were planning to go to Ecuador to seek asylum.”
“But the story about the nav system and radio failure was false, wasn’t it. You sabotaged your own radio before you landed because you wanted a legitimate excuse for not answering radio calls. You knew your own AWACS planes could track you if you answered the radio calls.” She said it as an accusation, not a question.
Stetson nodded. “In our nervousness to get away, we accidentally tuned into the wrong TACAN frequency. That’s how we ended up flying into the Crystal Empire. Before we landed, we intentionally shorted out the fuse for the radio and nav system to make our story look legitimate.”
She nodded slightly, the puzzle she’d been trying to solve starting to come together.
“And what you dropped from the aircraft wasn’t trash was it. I had suspected narcotics. That you were drug trafficking. But it wasn’t drugs either, was it?”
Stetson shook his head. “No, ma’am. It was two portable aviation radios. Again, to make our story more believable about why we couldn’t respond to the radio calls.”
“There’s one thing I still don’t understand, though. Once you’d landed and been captured, why not ask for asylum then? Why wait until now?”
“Because we’d hoped you would simply send us on our way like you originally intended to do. If we bought fuel from you, we would have had enough to follow our original plan and fly to Ecuador and ask for asylum there. No uh … No offense intended, but because of what happened twenty years ago, and because the relationship between Equestria and the United States still isn’t exactly friendly, we didn’t think The Crystal Empire, or any other pony nation for that matter, would be amenable to our asylum request.”
“I see.” She could hardly blame them for that, given the truth was that she was not at all open to their asylum request. But an elated thrill also arose inside of her. She might actually be able to charge the humans with murder! Screw the drug charge she’d been hoping to get them on. Screw even the espionage charge. If she could get them on murder … She forced that thought back down into whatever dark corner of her mind it had come from. Not that she wanted to force it down. Not at all. She wanted to revel in it. To swim in it like it was a cool lake on these hot late spring days. But no matter how much she wanted to punish them, no matter how much she hated them, she had to be fair to them. She had to keep the scales carried by the Ponies of Justice balanced.
She gathered her thoughts, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. She had to explain to them what would happen next.
“Alright … Here’s what’s gonna happen. First, you each need to sign a request for asylum document. This document basically just states that you are requesting asylum in the Crystal Empire, and that you are doing so of your own free will without coercion or duress. Once those documents have been signed, it will start the process. Our treaty with the United States requires that I notify the U.S. Marine Corps of your request for asylum. After that, the U.S. Department of Justice will make an extradition request, informing us you are wanted on criminal charges, and asking us to extradite you to the United States to face those charges. The Crystal Empire does not have an extradition agreement with the United States because it’s our policy not to sign extradition agreements with nations that have a death penalty. However, that does not mean you won’t be extradited. It just means that we consider each extradition request individually. One of our non-negotiable requirements for extradition to death penalty nations is a guarantee that prosecutors will not seek the death penalty. The United States is well aware of this, so their first extradition request will almost certainly offer that guarantee. Any questions so far?”
She waited for a few seconds. None of the humans said anything.
“There are several questions that we consider when deciding whether or not to extradite you. The first, is whether the crime you are accused of would be a crime under the Uniform Code of Pony Justice or under Crystal Empire law, although in this case I think we can say that yes, it most definitely is. The second question is whether we believe the evidence against you is strong enough to make it reasonable for the case to proceed to a criminal trial. The third question is whether we believe you can receive a fair trial under the criminal justice laws of the country requesting extradition. The fourth question is whether we believe you will receive humane treatment in prison during the trial process and in the event that you are convicted. Any questions?”
Again, she waited a few seconds, but, none of the humans said anything.
“Now even if we deny extradition based on one of the above criteria, that does not mean you are off the hook. We could decide that we don’t think you will get a fair trial if we extradite, but that the evidence against you is sufficiently strong that the case should be prosecuted. In that case, we can try you under the Uniform Code of Pony Justice. And if convicted, you can be sentenced to serve a punishment in the Crystal Empire.” That was what she was really hoping for. That she’d be able to prosecute them here. Make them serve time in a Crystal Empire dungeon. “Any questions?”
“What is this Uniform Code of Pony Justice?” Colonel Stetson asked.
“It’s a uniform set of criminal justice laws and trial proceedings adopted by the four pony nations of Equestria, the Crystal Empire, Saddle Arabia, and Germaney. Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, Princess Cadance, Prince Shining Armor, King Haakim, and King Rheinisches have all agreed to be bound by it. A ruling made by a representative of the law under the Uniform Code of Pony Justice is legally binding in all four member nations. There are local laws as well that are not covered under the uniform code. However, murder most certainly is covered under the code. So if you were to be tried here, you would be tried under the Uniform Code of Pony Justice. Any other questions?”
None of the humans responded.
“Alright. Then if you are sure you want to do this, I’ll go get the asylum forms.”
“We’re sure,” Colonel Stetson responded.
She nodded and turned, making her way out of the dungeon and up the stairs again. Cadance would be in bed by now. But informing her could wait until tomorrow morning. And so for the third time that night, she walked to her office building, passed underneath the watchful gaze of the Ponies of Justice, and made her way inside the building towards a row of filing cabinets. It had been so long since she’d dealt with an asylum request that she had to stop and think which cabinet to look in. She opened one of the drawers and removed the forms she needed, stashing them in her saddlebag. She stopped in her office to leave the forms the humans had already signed on her desk. Then she left, stepped outside, passed under the Ponies of Justice again, and made her way back to the palace and down towards the dungeon.
“You are busy tonight,” one of the Crystal Guards at the dungeon entrance remarked.
“I never knew one group of prisoners could be so much trouble,” she said.
The guard raised an eyebrow, but didn’t ask any questions. He would know that she couldn’t give any more information if she was dealing with an ongoing case. He opened the door for her, and she made her way down the stairs and back to the human prisoners. She passed the forms and pens for signing them through the bars.
“Again, these are the asylum request forms,” she explained. “Basically, they just state that you are requesting asylum in the Crystal Empire, that you are making the request of your own free will, and that the request is being made without coercion or duress. It’s important to realize that these forms are not a guarantee of asylum. Just a request for asylum. Obviously, you will not be granted asylum if we determine that you have committed this crime. In that case, you will either be extradited, or imprisoned here in the Crystal Empire.”
The human prisoners read over the forms, and each one signed them before slipping them back to her through the bars. She took them each in turn and placed them back in her saddle bag.
“Alright. Given the magnitude of the crime you are accused of, and the fact that you are a flight risk, you are going to have to remain in the dungeon for the duration of the investigation. You’ll be allowed two hours of recreational time outside every day in a fenced courtyard under guard supervision. One hour in the morning, and one hour in the afternoon. If the weather is bad, the recreational time will be in an indoor gym instead. As you’ve probably figured out by now, the dungeon only serves vegetarian meals. The chefs cannot serve meat, but if any of you have any other special dietary requirements or food allergies, please notify one of the guards. You are also entitled to medical care, both physical and psychiatric if you need it. As far as your behavior in the dungeon … Well, you are all military. So just act like you normally would and you’ll be fine. Make your bunks, clean up after yourselves, and follow the orders of the guards. Any questions?”
Colonel Stetson looked at his companions for a moment before returning his attention to her.
“No questions.”
“Then tomorrow, I’ll contact the Marine Corps and inform them of your asylum request. I’m sure General Faulkner has already gone home for the day … If you need to talk to me, the dungeon guards can page me. I’m available twenty-fours a day for emergency requests.”
“Thank you,” Stetson responded.
“It’s my job,” she said, not hesitating this time. She wouldn’t be caught off guard by his feigned courtesy twice. Then, she turned around, left the dungeon, and then left the palace. She started back to her office, but then stopped.
“Screw it,” she said to no one in particular, then turned and started on her way home instead. Between the case with Rover and the case with the humans, she’d been working very long hours. She had no prisoners she needed to visit tonight, and there was nothing else she could do on this case tonight anyway. And besides, she’d have to go into work very early tomorrow to catch General Faulkner before he left, and stay late the next morning because she wanted to catch Rover before he was released so that she could see him off properly. That and she expected she was going to be getting very busy very soon, arguing back and forth with human JAG officers about why the prisoners should or should not be extradited. She might as well save her energy … and her sanity, and take the rest of the night and most of the day tomorrow off.
Upon arriving home, she went to her freezer, pulled out a bag of frozen hay fries, took a bag of alfalfa noodles from a cupboard, then set a pot of water on the stove. As she waited for it to boil, she went to her bookshelf, looking for something to read before bed. Several Daring Do books were stacked carelessly on one of the shelves, collecting layers of dust from years of disuse. Why had she even brought those books with her to the Crystal Empire? She should have thrown them away while moving out of her apartment in Canterlot. When she had been a teenager, and during her years in Bat Team Alpha, she had loved the series, eagerly devouring each new book within a day of it being published, and then dreading the long wait until the next book in the series would come out. But that was before her injury. Now, she hated the series. Couldn’t even stand to look at it on her shelf. She laid her ears back, her eyes boring holes into the books as if they were some kind of living enemy provoking her. As if she could burn through them simply by staring at them They glared back at her, mocking her with their adventure themed covers and spines. Why oh why hadn’t she gotten rid of those books?
In a sudden rage, she put her forehoof on the shelf, sweeping it across, catching all the Daring Do Books and sending them tumbling to the floor. She kicked them roughly, sending them flying towards the other side of the room, landing in various states of disarray on the floor, some laying limply open, their bones broken. She lashed out again, sending the ones she had missed the first time to join the others. She cantered across the room, trampling over the books as if they were a spitting cobra she was trying to kill. Covers split down the middle with explosive pops, spines snapped in half with a crack! crack! crack! sound. Pages screamed out as they were rended from their binding. But she was numb to their cries. She kicked again, punting the carnage into the fireplace. Breathing heavily, her heart thumping, she picked up a long match in her mouth, striking it against the stone hearth before tossing it in. The loose paper caught quickly, igniting the pages that were still in the bindings. Flesh peeled and burned away, curling up as it blackened. There was a blinding white flash at the bunker, briefly lighting up the area as if it were daylight. An earsplitting boom pierced the night sky and a large stack of flame rose from the building, billowing into the night sky like a fire dragon emerging from a volcano. Smoke poured from the bunker, the smell of burning skin assaulting her nostrils as flames gushed from the mutilated and charred bodies. The shrill beep! beep! beep! beep! of the battle stations klaxon pierced her ears as the humans inside the bunker finally realized, too late, that they were under attack. What was left of the bunker that had survived the initial explosion was on fire now. Flames roared into the sky, illuminating the black night with an orange glow of vengeance. Many of the human soldiers rushed out and finally started to mount a disorganized defense as they tried to make sense of what had just happened to them. A bright flash shot from the shoulder-fired RPG one of the human soldiers was carrying, The crack of an explosion split the night next to her. A searing pain ripped through her left wing joint.
And then, she came crashing back into her apartment, the images of battle disappearing as suddenly as if a unicorn had teleported them away. But the loud beep! beep! beep! beep! continued to assault her ears, and the surrounding air was muddled with haze. She coughed, the smoke burning and stinging her lungs. Gradually, like coming out of a fog, it dawned on her: The beeping was her smoke detector. She’d forgotten to open the damper on the chimney. She grabbed the poker off its stand and thrust it in the fireplace, catching the damper lever and pushing it up. The smoke that had been pouring out into the room now begin to rush up the chimney. She replaced the poker and cantered over to the side wall, going up on her hind legs, grabbing the window with both forehooves and throwing it open.
Gradually, the room began to clear as the smoke drifted up the chimney and rolled out of the open window like fog rolling over a valley. The smoke alarm ceased its attack on her ears, and all was quiet except for the gentle breeze outside.
She stood with her muzzle at the window for at least a minute, breathing heavily and gulping in the fresh air, adrenaline still charging through her veins like a herd of stampeding mustangs. She coughed as smoke still burned her throat. Her eyes watered with a stinging sensation. The mustangs slowed from a full gallop to a canter, then to a trot, and finally, to a slow walk before coming to a stop. Her breathing slowed to normal and she realized she was shivering. She looked down, finding her fur soaked with sweat.
She took her forehooves off the windowsill, coming back down to all fours and turning away from the window. The Daring Do books in the fireplace had burned down to ash. Smoldering, glowing embers were all that remained of the fire. The remains of the books made quiet crackling sounds. The gray ash remains of a page broke loose and drifted up towards the chimney with the smoke, disappearing inside of it.
She turned back to the window, pulling it closed again now that the smoke was clear. Any thought of finding something to read or eating dinner had been completely erased from her mind. Now, she just wanted to go to bed. To surrender to sleep and deaden the thought of what had just happened.
Back in her kitchen, she found the pan on the stove boiling away rapidly, sizzling and hissing as water boiled over the sides and spilled onto glowing orange heating element underneath. She turned the stove off, letting the water stop boiling before taking the pan and dumping it down the drain, a cloud of steam rising from it like smoke rising from a burning bunker. She shuttered at the thought, dropped the pan in the sink, didn’t bother with putting the frozen hay fries back in the freezer, and left the kitchen. She’d clean up tomorrow.
She went into her bedroom, climbed into the bed, and lie down, staring up at her ceiling. It was painted black. The ceiling in her old Canterlot apartment had once been dotted with all the star formations visible in Equestria’s night sky. But that was long ago. She had painted that one black too for the same reasons she never looked up at the sky anymore. The reason why she couldn’t stand the Daring Do books – synonymous with adventure and featuring a pegasus … a pegasus with wings – anymore. Why she tried to avoid looking at her back and sides, the area where her wings used to be, every time she looked in the mirror. Why she had not wanted to take the case with the humans. That was how she coped. By avoiding anything that reminded her of what her life had been before that fateful day. Avoiding anything that reminded her of what she’d lost. She’d spent the past twenty years picking up the pieces of her shattered psyche, carefully pasting them all back together until she could live something that resembled a normal life. The paste had held, but it was still fragile.
But then, those damn humans had to fly into the Crystal Empire and land themselves in the dungeon. The humans with their hammers and chisels and pickaxes. Poking, hammering, and chipping away at the fragile pieces of her psyche. Prying the broken shards away, bit by bit. Methodically taking apart what she had spent the last twenty years trying to piece back together.
She closed her eyes, wishing she could shut out her thoughts as easily as she could shut out the images of the outside world. She said a quick prayer to Luna, praying that the Goddess of the Night would shield her sleep and prevent any dreams from tormenting her. She fell into a restless sleep and awoke several times throughout the next several hours. Finally, she fell into a deeper sleep. She did not have any dreams that night.
When she awoke sometime later, she climbed out of bed and walked over to her window. The dark purple curtains allowed no light at all into her room. She was glad alcohol was illegal in the Crystal Empire, otherwise she’d be massively hungover this morning after that flashback last night.
She parted the window curtains with a forehoof. The magic street lamps lining the crystal walkways beneath her were already starting to come on. She must have slept all night and through most of the day! Oh well, she deserved it, she reasoned. She’d need the rest for what would be coming her way. And besides, she’d had a rough night last night.
She went to her dresser, combed out her long mane and tail, wincing as the brush plowed through several snarls and tangles in her mane, a result of her restless night. Perhaps she should cut it short again? No. She couldn’t stand short manes anymore. They reminded her of too much of what she wanted to forget. She finished with the comb then stepped into the shower, feeling uneasy that her routine had been disturbed and she had to do everything earlier than normal tonight. But at least she could do it in the same order. When she’d finished with her shower, she went to the kitchen, boiled some water, and had a quick breakfast of instant oatmeal and coffee. Then, she grabbed the saddlebag with the signed asylum request forms she’d brought home yesterday, stepped outside, and made her way to her office. The air was hot and felt heavy and wet. A warm breeze gusted from the west, hissing through the leaves in the trees. As usual, she did not look up, but the lack of building shadows and strong reflections told her the sky was overcast. Perhaps they’d finally get the storm she was hoping for. Hopefully it would break this Luna cursed heatwave.
She’d lost track of how far she had walked over the last two days, and how many trips she’d made back and forth between her office and the palace. For a moment, she wished she were a unicorn and could teleport between her house, the palace, and her office. But at least she was getting a leg workout, which was good. Since losing her wings, she’d had to learn to live like an earth pony. But because she didn’t have the natural strength of an earth pony, it took more effort for her to keep in earth pony like shape than it did for an actual earth pony. She turned, climbed the stairs, passed under the gaze of the Ponies of Justice, and went into the building, making her way to her office.
She sat on her haunches behind her desk and glanced over the papers scattered on the surface. So far, she’d simply been letting the documents about this case accumulate on her desk. It had made sense, since she’d thought this was going to be an open and shut case. She opened her filing cabinet and took out an empty folder, labeling it and collecting the papers inside of it. She suspected that folder was gonna be bulging at the seams by the time this case was over. Once she’d cleaned off her desk, she took off her saddlebag, removed the newly signed asylum requests from it, and added them to the folder before closing it and placing it back into the drawer. She kicked the drawer closed with a foreleg, sending it slamming shut with far more force than was necessary. The entire cabinet rocked in protest, threatening to tip itself over before it stabilized. She turned on her computer display and began to type.
% ptalk gfaulkner::usmc.us.mil
Ponytalk v 5.8, Connecting to usmc.us.mil . . . . . . . .
Connection established … U.S. Marine Corps, General Faulkner
Ice Moon: You there?
General Faulkner: Yes. Didn’t expect to hear from you again. Is something wrong?
Ice Moon: Change of plans. Your boys have requested asylum. I’m sure you know what for.
There was a long pause. She almost wished this were video chat, or at least an audio chat. She smiled to herself, imaging the string of obscenities that were probably coming out of the General’s mouth right now. She’d have gladly put up with having to talk to a human to hear it. Another minute passed with no response. Had the connection been severed? No, a few seconds later, his words flowed onto the screen.
General Faulkner: … Whatever they told you about being falsely accused of murder is a lie. They are guilty.
Ice Moon: That’s not for you to decide. At this point, you need to turn this matter over to JAG and they need to make a formal extradition request, which may or may not be granted.
General Faulkner: They are guilty of the crime they are accused of. The three MARSOC marines weren’t even supposed to be on that plane. They were fleeing the country because they knew there were gonna get caught. The court martial is practically a formality. Surely we can dispense with the red tape and just follow the original plan?
Ice Moon: Perhaps, General, if you’d been more forthcoming with information the first time I contacted you, I might be more willing to take your word for it. But instead, you chose to play games with me, hoping I’d get them out of pony world without ever finding out. So excuse me if I don’t trust your word any further than I can piss.
For a few seconds, there was no response. Ice wished she could see the General’s face.
Connection closed.
%
It was General Faulkner who had closed the connection.
“Rage quit? Really?” Ice said to herself with a smile and chuckle, imagining what his face must look like. There probably wasn’t enough Xanax in the entire world to calm the unfortunate general down right now.
Of course, the truth was, she wouldn’t have taken his word for it even if he had been more forthcoming with information. That would have been a gross dereliction of her duties as an officer of justice. But the fact that he’d tried to pull one over on her had really irked her. She hadn’t been able to resist the urge to shove it in his face and rub her hoof on it about the fact that his little attempt at deceiving her had failed.
The thoughts she had pushed back down into the dark corner of her mind began to burrow their way to the surface again. If she had anything to say about it, they would not be extradited. She wanted to try this case herself. To convict them of murder. To see them spend the rest of their lives in a Crystal Empire dungeon. The case she hadn’t wanted to take had turned out to be like a gift from Luna herself. I have to be fair she reminded herself again. But she was being fair, wasn’t she? After all, it’s not like she was planning to frame them, or falsify evidence to make them look guilty. She wouldn’t have to. The evidence was there to convict them. She just had to dig it up. Maybe finesse it a little bit. She had no doubt of their guilt. They were humans. Murder was instinctual for them. As instinctual as a newborn foal’s desire for its dam’s teat. Murder was in the blood of humans. And besides, if nothing else, they were guilty of forcing her to remember what she had worked so hard to try to forget. Of invading her fragile psyche. Of chipping away and trying to take apart everything she’d spent the last twenty years trying so hard to piece back together. If nothing else, they deserved to be punished for that.
Outside the window, the hot, muggy weather continued. Moths circled and danced around under the light posts near the Ponies of Justice, attracted to their iridescent blue glow. Occasionally, one landed on one of the glowing magical orbs, crawling around a bit before flapping its wings, and circling underneath it again. The light reflected off their wings, causing the insects to glow like large fireflies. Lightning ripped through the clouds in the distance, illuminating the western sky like a unicorn fireworks show and hailing the approach of a late spring thunderstorm. A distant rumble of thunder echoed off the buildings, and a chill west wind rustled through the trees, picking up strength and interrupting the stillness of the peaceful night. The crickets chirped loudly, singing of the approaching squall. A rabbit skittered out from under one of the Ponies of Justice, hopping its way to shelter as the bass drum rumble of the thunder grew closer. A bat swooped down under the light, snapping up one of the moths in its jaws. The bat flapped its wings, banking and gliding over to one of the Ponies of Justice before folding its wings and settling gently on one of the pans of the balance scale where it began chomping down its meal, its eyes trained on the window in Ice’s office, staring through it as if it were staring at projector screen showing a movie. The weight of the bat unbalanced the scale, swinging the pan sharply towards the ground. But Ice was not looking out the window and did not see the effect of the bat’s weight on the scale. The air grew colder, lightning slashed through the sky, a crack of thunder split the air, and heavy rain drops began to fall. The bat finished its meal, spread its wings, and flew off into the night, its silhouette passing briefly in front of the pale half Moon shining through the clouds. Moments later, heavy clouds slid over the Moon, snuffing out its light. The bat was lost to the darkness.
V
Ice left her office the next morning while it was still dark, making her way to the palace so that she might catch Cadance before her normal daily routine started.
She stepped outside. The air was cold and chilled through her fur. The line of severe thunderstorms that had moved through last night had finally broken the oppressive heat wave. The faint smell of ozone from the lightning still hung in the air. Waterlogged leaves that had been ripped from their trees by the hail and strong winds lay on the wet walkways, floating in puddles. Those that hadn’t already sunk to the bottom. She walked down the stairs, passed under the shadow of the Ponies of Justice, and quickly made her way to the palace.
Once inside, she went to Cadance’s Royal apartment. The Crystal Guards standing outside let her in and she waited in the receiving room for about a minute before Cadance walked through from a door on the other side. Ice bowed.
“Please rise. It’s good to see you again, Ice Moon.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Ice responded, walking over to one of the sitting cushions near the table and sitting down. Along one wall, a fire burned in the pink quartz hearth, chasing out the chill of last night’s storms. Against the wall opposite the fire, stood a crystal serving table with stylistic designs of the Crystal Heart intricately carved into the top of each leg where they met the tabletop. A silver tray sat on top of the table with porcelain teacups and a tea kettle.
Cadance’s horn glowed with a golden aura, and a bright yellow glow surrounded the tea kettle. A few seconds later, the kettle gave a hissing sound like a leaky radiator and steam began to pour from the spout as Cadance used her magic to heat the tea. Earl Grey, based on the flowery scent emanating from the spout. The yellow glow dissipated, the boiling noise slowly stopped, and the Crystal Princess levitated the tea kettle off the serving tray, filling one of the cups. She set the kettle down, then floated the cup over to the table, setting it down in front of Ice.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Ice said, picking up the steaming cup and sipping it carefully. It was Earl Grey, as she’d thought. The hot tea felt good, warming the slight chill that still hung onto her from the walk to the palace. Ice had always been amazed by Princess Cadance. She was almost unbelievably powerful – some even believed that Cadance was more powerful than Celestia and Luna themselves. Ice wasn’t sure about that, but a reporter from the Canterlot Times had asked Celestia how she felt about it once. Celestia had only smiled and said that there’s nothing a teacher wants more than a student who surpasses her. And yet, for as powerful as Cadance was, she maintained enough humility to forgo the use of servants and personally serve tea to her guests. She was by far the most down-to-earth of the princesses, routinely mingling with her subjects and not afraid to act very un-princess like at times. Such as that sunshine and ladybugs thing she did whenever Twilight Sparkle came to visit. Perhaps it was the Princess’s own humble origins as an orphan that kept her so down-to-earth. More than any of the other princesses, Cadance was capable of listening to and empathizing with the life experiences and circumstances of others.
“So then, how goes the case with the humans?” Cadance asked.
Ice set down the teacup. “I’m afraid it’s become much more complicated than we initially thought.”
She then proceeded to explain everything that had happened. She told Cadance about the asylum request from the humans, that they’d admitted they’d lied about the objects they’d dropped from the aircraft, and had told her what they were, that they’d admitted to sabotaging their own radio, and that they’d admitted they were, in fact, trying to hide from detection by their own forces.
When she’d finished her story, Cadance was silent for a few moments. Her ears swiveled slightly, as if she were on guard and listening for something. Was she nervous? No, nervous wasn’t the right word. Uncertainty. That was it. That was the slight change apparent in the Princess’s body language. Finally, Cadance responded.
“I had thought this would be a simple and quick case. That the humans would likely be on their way out of here this morning. But given these new developments, I will assign the case to another agent. Thank you for the effort you’ve put into it this far.”
“Your Majesty, I would like to continue with the case,” Ice said quickly, then silently cursed her zeal in answering so brusquely. It wouldn’t be good to show too much enthusiasm.
“Are you sure?” Cadance asked with a note of surprise in her voice. Her magenta eyes held a look of uncertainty. Perhaps even a hint of suspicion. Ice swallowed her fear that the Princess would catch onto her charade. She’d have to proceed very carefully now, as if she were walking through a minefield and each step might bring disaster.
“I’m sure, Your Majesty. I’m … not one who likes to abandon things I’ve started. Since I’ve gone this far on the case, I’d like to see it through to the end.” She almost reached out to pick up the teacup again, She stopped, unsure if she’d be able to hold on to it without shaking it and spilling it. Butterflies fluttered and jumped in her stomach. This must be what the humans had felt when they’d learned that the Marines had asked the Crystal Empire not to allow them to leave on their own and were planning to send a transport to get them. Only her former training and experience in Bat Team Alpha allowed her to control her fear well enough to prevent it from permeating her scent and body language and thus giving herself away to the Princess. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the alicorn might see right through her and discern her true motive for wanting to stay on the case.
Cadance’s expression was one of concern and uncertainty. Finally, she gave a slight nod.
“Very well, if you are sure that’s what you want. I trust you, Ice Moon.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Ice responded, relief washing over her like a wave of fresh, cool water. Cadance had emphasized trust. It was clear the Crystal Princess had some concerns about her ability to remain unbiased while working this case. But at the same time, Ice was confident she had not given her true motive away. If she had, she was certain Cadance would have put her hoof down and refused to let her continue on the case. Besides, other than her desire to punish the humans, she wasn’t about to turn down her first, and likely only chance to work a case that, because of its high profile nature and international sensitivity, was sure to end up in Crystal High Court and to be judged by Princess Cadance herself. As the intern Aspen had pointed out a couple of nights ago, very few agents ever got the chance to work a case that would be handled in one of the royal courts.
“Then if there is nothing else, I trust you will keep us informed of your progress?”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
“Alright. You may return to your duties, then. But please, take your time in finishing your tea.”
“Actually, I’m sorry to cut it short, Your Majesty, but I want to go down to the dungeon and see Rover off. He’s a diamond dog teenager I’m working with. Hopefully, I can get him started off on the right paw.” She did want to see Rover before he left, that much was true. But she also wanted to get out from under the microscope-like gaze of the Princess. Even though she was certain Cadance hadn’t detected her true motives, her gaze felt like a stage spotlight, focusing all attention on her and amplifying even the slightest mistake she might make.
“I understand,” Cadance said with a nod and a smile. Ice stood up to leave. Her teacup was still more than half full. But she’d been afraid to try picking it up again after she’d told Cadance she wanted to remain on the case.
As she made her way down to the dungeon, she shook off a light dusting of guilt that was clinging to her. Why shouldn’t she handle this case? After all, the result would be the same even if it were assigned to some other agent. The humans were guilty of murder, and they would be found guilty and punished for it. She just wanted to make sure that she was the one who proved they were guilty, and she was the one responsible for punishing them.
She reached the dungeon and made her way towards Rover’s cell. The dog was standing up this time and even smiled slightly when he saw her. He’d had another bath, and he’d combed his fur. At least as well as he could comb it with the clumps missing from the mange. But the mange would go away and his fur would grow back, provided he kept washing with the medicated shampoo and continued to apply the medicated cream to his bald spots. The dog was making a good effort to hold his head high and put on a confident facade, but Ice could sense his uncertainty and nervousness.
“You’ll do fine, Rover. As long as you stay clean and work hard, you’ll do fine.”
“Thank you … for helping me,” he said quietly.
She nodded and smiled as two Crystal Guards approached, unlocked his cell, and escorted him out.
“Stop for a moment,” Ice said to the guards. They complied. She pulled Rover into another hug. “Remember your promise and be good, Rover,” she said, then released him and smiled again.
“Promise to be good. Stay off roach weed. Stay in school,” Rover said.
Ice extended her hoof, giving him a hoof-paw bump before the guards lead him away to the transport chariot that would take him to the border.
“And don’t forget to let me know when you’re graduating so that I can come!” Ice called after him.
“Won’t forget!” he called back as the guards led him around a corner.
She smiled, again remembering the real reason why she liked this job. Then, she turned and started to make her way out of the dungeon. There was no reason for her to visit the humans right now. She had nothing new to tell them. It would take at least a couple of days for the extradition request to arrive from JAG. Why have any more contact with the hairless monkeys than she absolutely had to? She arrived at the exit to the palace and reached into her saddlebag, pulling out her UV blocking sunglasses and putting them on. Celestia had risen the Sun while she had been down in the dungeon. Thestrals, being ponies of the night, could not see well in bright sunlight. Once her sunglasses were secure, the guards opened the door and she stepped outside into daylight. The bright light gave the courtyard and city a different look. One that she rarely saw. Areas that were normally hidden in shadow because the magic street lamps didn’t reach them at night were lit with full daylight now. Nooks and crannies were visible that she hadn’t even realized existed. The sunlight reflected off the crystal in the buildings that gave Crystal City its name, a prism effect often causing the buildings to sparkle with the colors of the rainbow. But Ice didn’t care about the view.
She headed home, ate a quick dinner of hay fries and pasta with alfalfa noodles, then climbed into bed. She’d lost count of how many trips she’d made between her office, the palace, and her apartment. She stared up at her blank ceiling and started to go over the humans’ story in her mind again. But within minutes, her exhaustion from the long night took hold, and she was asleep.
Ice spent the next couple of days going into work early so that she could help out Aspen with his cases. He was still an intern, so he needed some guidance. She enjoyed working with him and enjoyed helping him learn how all of the theory he learned in law school applied to the real world of criminal justice. The more she worked with him, the warmer she felt when she was near him. But there was still the twenty year age difference to contend with. And there was still that fear in the back of her mind that no earth pony would want to be romantically involved with a “former” bat pony who had basically been transformed into an earth pony by the loss of her wings. She tried not to focus on that and instead, just focused on helping him learn. Office relationships never went well anyway.
For the time being, she avoided thinking about the humans. There was nothing she could do on their case anyway. Not until the extradition request came in. She continued to avoid visiting them in the dungeon as well. She had nothing new to tell them. If they wanted to talk to her, they could have one of the guards send for her.
On the fourth day after she’d notified General Faulkner of the U.S. Marine Corps of the prisoners’ asylum request, her reprieve from dealing with the humans ended. Lying on her desk was a large, yellow envelope sent via certified U.S. Post Office Express mail. Stamped on the return address portion of the envelope was Judge Advocate General’s Corps, United States Navy, in Washington, D.C. The envelope was thinner than she had expected it would be, given this was a premeditated murder case. That suggested that either JAG didn’t have very much evidence or, more likely, they were withholding evidence and were going to make her ask for everything she wanted. She cursed under her breath. That would only cause delays and draw this case out much longer than it needed to be. She sat down at her desk, tore open the envelope by pulling the seal along one of her fangs, then emptied the contents on her desk. A cover letter written in English was on top of the stack. She started by reading it:
Lt. Bradley Reid
Judge Advocate
United States Navy
Washington D.C., USA
Agt. Ice Moon
Department of International Justice Affairs
Crystal City, Crystal Empire
Lunar Date 5.29
Ice snickered at the fact that Lieutenant Reid had used Equestria’s Lunar Date system on the cover letter. Either he was trying to impress her, or trying to gain favor with her. In either case, it didn’t work. If he’d really wanted to impress her, he should have written the letter in Equestrian. She continued reading:
Dear Agt. Ice Moon:
My name is Lieutenant Bradley Reid, and I am the trial counsel assigned to the case of Colonel Stetson, et.al. Enclosed, please find the extradition request forms for all five of the U.S. Marines you are currently holding. In addition, I have enclosed a summary of the evidence in the case.
Please contact me through official PonyTalk secure communications at ltreid::jag.usnavy.mil as soon as you have had the opportunity to read over this packet so that we may discuss this case.
Sincerely,
Lt. Bradley Reid
She tossed the cover letter aside, then quickly scanned over the extradition request forms. Everything was in order. As expected, Lt. Reid had already agreed to waive the death penalty, knowing full well that death penalty waivers were a non-negotiable requirement that must be met before the Crystal Empire would even consider extraditing a prisoner. Next, she turned to the evidence summary, and began to read:
At 06:25 local Afghanistan time, three witnesses reported seeing a U.S Marine Humvee with five soldiers arrive in the general vicinity the murder took place. The three witnesses stated that three of the soldiers were wearing desert camo, and the other two were wearing aircraft flight suits. Twenty-five minutes later four village residents reported hearing a gunshot. Less than two minutes after the gunshot was reported, three witnesses (not the same three witnesses who saw the accused arrive) reported seeing a U.S. Marine Humvee containing five soldiers leaving the approximate area where the witnesses who had heard the gunshot thought it had occurred.
Fifteen minutes later, all five of the accused arrived at the temporary airfield, boarded a C-130 Hercules, hereafter referred to as “the aircraft”, and left on a scheduled flight. One hour and fifty-four minutes into the scheduled flight, military air traffic controllers reported that the aircraft entered a rapid descent, then disappeared from radar. Attempts to contact the aircraft by radio were unsuccessful, The aircraft was assumed to have been lost in the ocean and SAR aircraft were dispatched to search the last reported location. However, approximately thirty minutes after losing contact, military air traffic controllers reported seeing an aircraft dropping in and out of radar. The aircraft was running with its transponder turned off. As such, it was impossible to identify the aircraft. However, there were no military flights scheduled at the time in the given area, and it was assumed that the radar target in question was the missing aircraft, but it was far from its scheduled flight route. Plotting the actual flight route of the aircraft determined that they would enter Crystal Empire airspace before Marine or Air Force interceptors would be able to arrive and escort the aircraft to a landing. As such, no intercept was attempted. The aircraft in question, and its crew, have since been forced to land and have been detained in the Crystal Empire by the Crystal Guard.
Upon questioning base commanders at the two different bases where the accused were from, it was confirmed that all five occupants of the aircraft had been off base at the time the militia commander was killed, and that they had been AWOL.
In addition to this summary, I have enclosed the statements of all ten of the witnesses, the statements of the base commanders regarding the absence of the five accused, and an audio tape of the conversation between air traffic controllers and their attempt to contact the missing aircraft.
Ice frowned and tossed the evidence summary carelessly onto her desk, then began to read through the witness statements. As she expected, they confirmed the JAG officer’s summary report, but the names of the witnesses had been blacked out. She gave her tail a whip-like flip of annoyance. For some reason, Reid didn’t want her to be able to contact the witnesses herself. She suspected he’d give her a song and dance about guaranteeing the witnesses anonymity for their own protection if they agreed to talk to Marine Corps investigators.
Next, she dug through her filing cabinet, looking for her audio cassette player. She had one buried in there somewhere, but she rarely used it. Audio cassettes and analog video tape were the only options the humans had to send media evidence to government offices in the Crystal Empire. The Crystal Empire would not accept DVDs, USB keys, or other forms of computer media from the humans. There was still concern that the humans would use such devices to try to infect Crystal Empire computers with back doors or bugs that they could use for spying. Ice suspected that was unlikely. All Crystal Empire government computers ran a secure and classified operating system that had been specifically designed for the government and was not used anywhere else. No humans would have ever seen the operating system or know anything about it, so it was difficult to conceive that they would be able to write a virus that could infect it. Nevertheless, the policy was no computer media devices from human nations.
Eventually, she found the audio cassette player and listened to the tape. As expected, the tape confirmed the details in the JAG officer’s summary.
She shook her head, then turned on her computer to contact the JAG officer.
% ptalk ltreid::jag.usnavy.mil
Ponytalk v 5.8, Connecting to jag.usnavy.mil . . . . . . . .
Connection established … U.S. Navy, Judge Advocate General, Lieutenant Reid
Lieutenant Reid: Hello, Agent Ice Moon. It’s good to meet you. I trust the evening finds you well?
Ice wasn’t in the mood for friendly chat. She was never in the mood to have a friendly conversation with a human. But she was going to have to get on this human’s good side if she had any chance of getting what she wanted from him. She swallowed her distaste and responded politely.
Ice Moon: Hello, Lt. Reid. It does, thank you for asking. And you?
Lieutenant Reid: I am well, thank you. You have had a chance to look over the package I sent you?
Ice Moon: I have.
Lieutenant Reid: And?
Ice shook her head in disbelief, then unloaded on him.
Ice Moon: The charges are spurious. The evidence you sent me is all circumstantial. You have no motive and no witness who actually saw the crime happen and can finger the trigger-man. You can’t possibly plan to go to trial on this evidence. You’ll never get a conviction.
Lieutenant Reid: I have additional evidence, but I am not permitted to send it to you because it has been marked classified.
Ice Moon: I know what you’re trying to do. It’s not going to work.
Oh yes, she knew exactly what he was trying to do. He was trying to give her just enough evidence to convince her that the case deserved to go to trial, but not enough where she could try the case herself. That way, she’d be forced to recommend extradition on the grounds that the prisoners are possibly guilty, but that she can’t get the classified evidence to prove it, so the humans would have to try the case. Not that she had any intention of recommending that Cadance extradite the prisoners anyway. Not even if Lieutenant Reid gave her motive, gave her the murder weapon, showed her video of the shooting, and produced a hundred witness who testified to seeing one of the prisoners point the gun and pull the trigger. She was determined to try this case in the Crystal Empire and firmly resolved that she was going to be the one to punish the humans.
Lieutenant Reid: Please understand that these decisions about what evidence is classified are made at much higher levels than me. And obviously, I cannot send you classified information.
Ice Moon: Right now, you haven’t even given me enough to recommend extradition.
Lieutenant Reid: There were six witnesses who saw the accused arrive and leave the scene at the time of the shooting.
Ice Moon: The accused could have been shopping, or sightseeing, or visiting a whore. The fact that they were in the same area where the murder occurred does not make them guilty of murder.
Lieutenant Reid: We interviewed all of the residents of the village. Including all of the ones who are known to engage in prostitution. None of the village residents can account for the whereabouts of the five accused at the time of the shooting.
Ice Moon: Which could mean they weren’t even there. The six witnesses saw a Marine Humvee with three soldiers in desert camo, and two soldiers dressed in flight suits. But you gave me no indication that they were actually able to positively identify the soldiers in the Humvee as the ones I am currently holding. All you have is five marines who coincidentally happened to be dressed the same way as the marines I am holding. No surprise, given that pretty much every American soldier stationed in Afghanistan is wearing either desert camo, or a flight suit, are they not?
Lieutenant Reid: That’s true, but these five marines were AWOL from their base at the time of the shooting.
Ice Moon: All that means is that they were AWOL from their base at the time of the shooting. It does not prove they were involved.
It was not lost on Ice that currently, she was defending the very humans she wanted to punish. The very humans she wanted to lock up for the rest of their lives. But Reid had admitted what she already knew: He was withholding evidence from her on the grounds that it was classified. If she was going to convince Reid and his superiors to turn over that classified evidence to her, she was going to have to convince him that right now, she wasn’t at all convinced of the prisoners’ guilt, or even that she thought the case should go to trial. If he believed that she didn’t think the case should go to trial, then he’d also know she would recommend that Cadance deny extradition on the grounds that the humans were not receiving fair treatment under American military law.
Lieutenant Reid: But why run away? They took off in their aircraft less than thirty minutes after the shooting. There’s no way they could have heard about it yet since no one on base or at the airstrip knew anything about it yet. And they couldn’t have heard anything about it once in the air. So why steal an aircraft? Why try to hide from their own military forces? Clearly, they knew something about the shooting. And the only way they could have known is if they were there.
Ice had to admit she didn’t have an answer for that one. But it still wasn’t the smoking gun she needed. She had to convince Reid to turn over more evidence.
Ice Moon: I want crime scene photos and maps of the location where the crime occurred.
Lieutenant Reid: I can’t send those. They are classified.
Ice Moon: I want the names and contact information for the witnesses.
Lieutenant Reid: I can’t give them to you. They are classified for the protection of the witnesses.
And there was the song and dance she’d predicted he’d give her. Damn, he was starting to piss her off.
Ice Moon: I want personnel files on the prisoners.
Lieutenant Reid: You can’t use past behavior or actions to determine guilt or innocence of the current crime.
“I know that. I went to law school just like you did, asshole,” Ice muttered through clenched teeth, but did not type. She narrowed her eyes, flicking her tail as she responded.
Ice Moon: Character evidence. Since all you have given me is circumstantial evidence, under the Uniform Code of Pony Justice, I AM allowed to use past behavior and actions to determine whether or not there is sufficient reason to believe the prisoners may have committed the crime, and thus whether or not there is sufficient reason to believe a trial is warranted. I suggest you make a bit more effort to start cooperating with my requests, Lt. Reid. If you don’t, I guarantee you that we will not extradite.
“Besides, who do you think you are, telling me what I can and can’t do under Crystal Empire law?” Ice muttered under her breath. There was a pause of nearly a minute. Reid was probably conferring with someone else in his own department over the telephone or a different instant messaging system.
Lieutenant Reid: Very well. I will have their personnel files sent to you.
Ice Moon: I will contact you again after they have arrived and I have had time to review them.
Lieutenant Reid: Very well.
Ice Moon: If there is nothing else, have a good evening.
Lieutenant Reid: You too.
Connection closed.
%
“Well, that was disappointing,” Ice said to herself with a frown. The circumstantial evidence was a start, and some of the behavior of the prisoners was rather difficult to explain if they didn’t know about the crime. But it certainly wasn’t enough for a conviction, especially not without a motive. It might be enough to extradite, but she had no intention of doing so. Briefly, she thought about going to Cadance and updating her on the case, then decided against it. She’d wait until she had the personnel records. That would probably take another couple of days. For now, she’d go to the dungeon and visit the humans. She might not have enough evidence for a conviction, but the humans wouldn’t know that. If she confronted them with it, perhaps she had enough to wrangle a confession out of them.
She left her office, passing underneath the Ponies of Justice as she walked down the stairs, making her way to the palace again. Bright silver light illuminating the city and reflecting off the crystal buildings told her it was a clear night and Luna’s moon was out. But as usual, she avoided looking at the sky.
On arriving at the palace, she made her way to the dungeon. But before going to see the humans, she turned and stopped in the guard barracks. Two Crystal Earth Pony Guards were seated on their haunches at a table, playing some sort of card game. Each card in the deck had an image of Princess Cadance printed on the back. Ice tried not to chuckle, catching sight of one that had been vandalized and had a mustache and beard drawn on it. Unlike some human nations Ice was aware of, and fortunately for the guards, there was no law in the Crystal Empire against vandalizing images of the Prince of Princess.
“Sorry to interrupt your card game, sirs, but I need you as witnesses,” she said. The two looked up, giving her a momentary look of confusion. Then the higher ranking one nodded.
“Very well,” he said, as the two of them stood up and trotted over to her. She turned around, leaving the barracks. The two guards fell in behind her and on both sides and she lead them towards the cell the humans were in.
As they approached, the humans stood up from their bunks, falling into a loose formation behind Colonel Stetson. They said nothing, but all had an anxious expression in their eyes as they saw her approach with the two guards. All except Colonel Stetson, who maintained his usual serene expression. A feeling of delight flowed over Ice as she imagined the war of emotions the humans must be feeling right now. Hope that the presence of the guards meant she was here to release them. Fear that the guards meant they were going to be removed from their cells and extradited, or perhaps taken to a courtroom to be judged. They had the look of people who were starving. Not people starving for food, but starving for news about their fate. She enjoyed the brief moment of keeping them on edge.
She stopped a few paces from the bars, the Crystal Guards stopping with her and maintaining their formation. She flicked her tail once in annoyance as she cast her gaze over the prisoners. As much as she hated to do so, she knew she had to remind them that they were not obligated to answer any questions. After all, if they gave her a confession, but could later claim they had not been made aware of their right not to answer questions, Cadance would almost certainly throw out the confession. And with only circumstantial evidence and no motive, a confession was the only route forward for punishing the humans. At least for now. She swallowed the distaste rising in her like bile and addressed them.
“Before we begin, I need to remind you that under the Uniform Code of Pony Justice, you are not required to answer any questions if you feel the answers may implicate you in a crime. The guards are here as witnesses to any answers you may or may not give.” She savored the expressions of anxiety that crossed the faces of the prisoners … all except Stetson. Again, the fact that she couldn’t rattle him like she could the others ate at her like a blood-sucking insect.
“We understand,” Colonel Stetson responded.
She nodded, then looked directly into the Colonel’s eyes. It was important to maintain direct eye contact. She’d learned that in Bat Team Alpha when she’d been taught about interrogation tactics.
“We’ve received the extradition request from the United States Government. As we expected, the JAG officer prosecuting the case has already agreed to waive the death penalty. Since that gets the biggest barrier for extradition out of the way, it’s possible at this point that you will be extradited.”
She paused for a moment, looking for any changes in their scent or body language. There it was. All of them had a slight scent of fear wafting off of them now. All except Stetson, damn him. What did it take to rattle that guy? Time to play the next card in her deck. Perhaps that would do it.
“Six witnesses can place you at the scene at the time the murder occurred. Three of them saw you arrive, Another three saw you leave, less than two minutes after four other witnesses had reported hearing a gunshot. Can you explain this?” She intentionally hadn’t told them that none of the six witnesses could positively identify them. Technically, it wasn’t lying. It was just a distortion of the truth by withholding information.
That had gotten them. The scent of fear poured off four of the humans now. Saturated them, as if they’d dove into an ocean of it. To her, it smelled sweet. Like fresh apple pie just coming out of an oven. Even Stetson had finally crumbled a bit, and she could detect a slight hint of fear coming from him. It wasn’t nearly as strong as the scent that saturated the others, but it was there.
One of the younger ones, Newman she thought his name was, opened his mouth, but Colonel Stetson looked at him with stern eyes. Then he turned his attention back to her, his tired, heavy facial features looking even more weary than they had before as he spoke quietly.
“I don’t think we should answer any more questions, ma’am.”
VI
Ice frowned at Stetson’s response, although she wasn’t surprised by it. She’d expected one of two possibilities: Either he’d confess when confronted with the evidence, or he’d decline to answer any further questions. Of the two possibilities, she’d expected the second was more likely. After all, Stetson didn’t strike her as the stupid type. He probably surmised that she didn’t actually have enough evidence to bring them to trial. Otherwise, why would she bother to try to get a confession out of him if she didn’t need it? Still, she’d try presenting him with the rest of the evidence she had. Maybe it would be enough to convince him she was sure of his guilt and that it might be in his best interests to give her a confession.
“Your base commanders reported that you were AWOL at the time of the shooting. Would you like to offer some kind of explanation?”
“We decline to answer any further questions at this time.”
“You took off in your aircraft less than twenty minutes after the four witnesses heard the shooting. Approximately two hours into the flight, you turned off your transponder, entered a rapid descent, and attempted to fool air traffic controllers into thinking you’d ditched in the ocean. But you were in and out of radar coverage enough that Marine flight controllers were able to determine that you had deviated from your flight plan, and they were able to plot where you would end up if you continued on the course you had taken. There’s no way you could have known about the murder unless you were involved. So what were you running from?”
“We decline to answer any further questions at this time.”
Ice raised a forehoof to her forehead, rubbing it for a second before placing her hoof back on the ground and sweeping her gaze over the prisoners again. This was obviously a waste of time. Stetson clearly wasn’t going to talk. Briefly, she considered separating the humans and interrogating them individually. Perhaps without Stetson to keep them in line, one of the younger ones would crack. But she decided against it. A confession from one of them would do her no good since the others could simply accuse the one who had confessed of lying in order to save his own skin. No, she needed the confession from Stetson himself and she needed the others to confirm his story. She glared at Stetson, and he looked back at her. His expression was emotionless, the lines on his experienced face as hard as ever. Looking into his eyes, she knew she’d never break him. At least not with any method she could legally use to obtain a confession. Finally, she simply nodded.
“Very well. Then there will be no reason for me to visit you again until I’ve completed my investigation and am ready to make my recommendation to her Majesty regarding extradition or charges. If you should change your mind and decide you want to talk, ask the dungeon guards to contact me.”
Stetson only nodded in response. She waited for a moment, then turned and trotted away from the cell.
As she exited the dungeon, she thought about whether she should go to Cadance with these new developments. She decided against it and turned towards the exit instead, walking outside and making her way towards her office.
At this point, she had no doubt at all that the humans were guilty of murder. Not that she had ever doubted it, but their refusal to answer questions had confirmed it in her mind. But refusal to answer questions was not the same as an admission of guilt. Right now, she probably had reasonable cause to recommend extradition, and Cadance probably would extradite. The prisoners’ refusal to answer questions was strongly suggestive of their guilt, and JAG likely had evidence to prove their guilt. Evidence that Reid were refusing to share with her. But Ice didn’t want to extradite. She was still determined to do everything she possibly could to keep this case in the Crystal Empire. She had a right to punish them. They were responsible for making it all come back to her.
And besides, the fact that JAG was withholding evidence from her could end up working in her favor. She could use that to argue that perhaps JAG didn’t have the evidence at all, or that it was weak or contradictory. Thus, the prisoners would not be able to get a fair trial if they were extradited. Therefore, they should be tried in the Crystal Empire instead.
Yet, she did have to leave the possibility of extradition open, because there was one possibility on the table that was even worse: Asylum. And that was something she was absolutely not going to allow. No way was she going to allow these human monkeys to run loose in the Crystal Empire. She’d recommend extradition before she’d do that. The only way the humans were going to stay in the Crystal Empire, or in any of the other pony nations for that matter, was if they were locked behind bars where they belong.
She decided she’d wait until she had a chance to look over the personnel files before going to Princess Cadance. Hopefully, the personnel files would shed some more light on things. At least give her some leads to where she could focus her investigation. After all, right now, she had nothing at all to go on.
She climbed the stairs to her office building, passing underneath the ever-present gaze of the Ponies of Justice before stepping inside the building. Aspen was gone. Probably left for the evening while she’d been at the palace. She went to her office, stepping behind her desk and sitting down on her haunches. There were three new sealed envelopes in her inbox.
“Like I said, I’m gonna be very busy, very soon,” she muttered under her breath.
She picked up the one off the top. It was from the Crystal Guard, Earth Pony division. She dragged it across one of her fangs to open it and pulled out the report, reading it over. The ground search team had found the objects that had been dropped from the aircraft. They were two portable aviation radios. Colonel Stetson had told the truth about that, then. After his initial lie that it was trash, that is. Either way, finding the objects was no longer helpful to her case.
She tossed that report aside and opened the second envelope. This one was from the Pegasus Guard at Commander Hurricane Field. They had completed their inventory of the contents of the aircraft. She quickly scanned over it.
* Aeronautical maps - Middle Eastern region, Europe, South America.
* Personal effects - Two paperback books, fiction
* Five Beretta M9 semi-automatic handguns
* Three HK416 assault rifles
* One M107 sniper rifle
* Ammunition for above weapons
Well, that wasn’t useful either. None of the weapons would be useful for evidence. They were pretty much standard issue for U.S. Soldiers, especially those involved in special ops. It was expected that the prisoners would have weapons. The only way they would be useful as evidence is if ballistics testing could show that the shot that killed the militia commander was fired from one of those specific weapons. And that would be difficult, given that she had the weapons here in the Crystal Empire, and the bullet that had killed the militia commander was in Afghanistan, or possibly being held as evidence by JAG. She had no intention of sending the weapons to Reid. Not even if he requested them. He was refusing to share evidence with her, so why should she feel any obligation to share evidence with him?
She tossed the inventory report carelessly onto the pile with the report from the ground search team, then picked up the third envelope. This one was from the Government of Afghanistan. She opened it and let the documents spill over her desk. She raised an eyebrow and perked her ears. It was an extradition request for the humans from the Government of Afghanistan.
“Well, this is gonna be interesting,” she said to herself. No doubt, the U.S military thought the crime fell under their jurisdiction because it was committed by U.S. soldiers, and the Government of Afghanistan thought it was their jurisdiction because the crime had been committed against an Afghan on Afghan soil. Now, she had two countries and two governments fighting over which one would get to prosecute the case. She smiled at that. She could definitely use that to her advantage. She could play one country against the other, threatening to extradite to the other if the one she was currently talking with didn’t cooperate with her more. But she’d reserve that option for now. It was her ace in the hole if all else failed. For now, she was better off maintaining that she didn’t have enough evidence to recommend extradition at all.
She put the extradition request from Afghanistan aside, then looked over the evidence summary the Afghan prosecutor had provided. The asshole had written it in English. That already had him on her bad side. It was bad enough that Reid had written in English, but at least he could use the excuse that it was his native language. The Afghan prosecutor couldn’t even do that. He should have written it in Equestrian, not English. Never mind the fact that she herself couldn’t read or write in Persian, and she had no reason to suspect he could write in Equestrian. Part of her knew she was being unreasonable, but a much bigger part of her didn’t care.
She frowned as she finished reading the summary, then crumpled it up between her forehooves before tossing it towards the trash can. Score, two points, nothing but net. The summary had basically been a carbon copy of the summary that Reid had sent. Either the Afghan prosecutor was withholding evidence from her just as Reid was, or he didn’t know any more than she did because Reid was playing the same game with the Afghan authorities that he was playing with her. If that were the case, it would pretty much put an end to her plan to play the two countries against each other. But then another thought came to mind. The extradition request from Afghanistan wasn’t entirely useless. She could at least use it to buy time. She could claim that the legal question of whether it was Afghanistan or the U.S. military that had jurisdiction to prosecute the crime was unclear. She needed more time to look into that before she could recommend extradition.
Another envelope on her desk was from Interpol. As expected, she found an international arrest warrant inside of it. She immediately crumpled that up and tossed it into the trash can too. Score, two points, nothing but net. The Crystal Empire didn’t cooperate with Interpol and did not honor international arrest warrants. And besides, the humans were technically already under arrest anyway. Perhaps not in the way Interpol wanted, but they were under arrest.
Ice stuck out her forehoof, hooking the handle for her filing cabinet and pulling it open. She pulled out the case file for the humans and added the inventory summary, report from the ground search team, and extradition request from the Afghan Government to the rapidly growing pile of documents inside the folder. She put the folder back in the cabinet and kicked the drawer shut, punting it a bit harder than was absolutely necessary, taking out her frustrations on the unfortunate piece of pressed aluminum. She didn’t see any reason to contact the Afghan prosecutor right now. Let him wait. Let him sweat.
There was little else she could do on the case right now, and she had no other cases to work on for the moment. The director had cleared her schedule, knowing once this case got going, she would likely have little time for anything else. That, and given the high profile nature of the case, Cadance herself had asked that it be resolved as soon as possible. Hopefully, Reid had been quick to act on her request and the personnel files for the prisoners would arrive tomorrow. Maybe they would point her in the right direction. She stood up, left her office, walked down the outdoor stairs, passed underneath the Ponies of Justices, and headed for home. Between going over the evidence Reid had sent, her discussion with Reid over the evidence, her interrogation of the prisoners in the dungeon, and going over the reports from the ground search team, the Royal Guards at CHF, and the extradition request from Afghanistan, she’d had a full day of work. She suspected the days were only going to get longer.
Ice arrived at the office building the next day just in time to see Aspen leaving. The two of them exchanged greetings as she went into her office. Immediately, she noticed the envelope in her inbox from Lieutenant Reid at JAG. She stepped behind her desk, opening it and dumping the contents on her desk. She started reading over the personnel files for each of the human prisoners, her frown growing deeper as she went. The records were completely unremarkable. There were no negative marks on any of them, but neither were there any letters of commendation, medals earned, or other positive remarks. The only thing remotely interesting was that Sergeant Boyd had sniper training. Angrily, she crumpled up the papers. She started with Boyd’s file. He was the one who annoyed her the most. Or was it Stetson? She couldn’t decide. Boyd had asked her about her wings, which pissed her off to no end. But Stetson … Stetson was continuing to infuriate her. He was so hard to rattle. Trying to get under his skin was like trying to carve into a rock with a butter knife. Occasionally, she’d been able to nick the surface. But so far, she hadn’t been able to draw any blood from him like she’d been able to from the others.
She tossed Boyd’s file into the trash can. Score, two points, nothing but net. She followed it with Stetson’s file. It hit the rim, bounced off of it, and landed a few paces away.
“Shit,” she muttered under her breath as she walked over to the trash can and picked up the errant ball of paper. She raised her forehoof for a dunk. She stopped. Something wasn’t right about these personnel files. She reached into the trash can, removing Boyd’s file and going back to her desk, setting the white balls of paper for Boyd and Stetson on the surface. Carefully, making sure not to tear them, she unwrinkled the pages from both files, then added all of the personnel records to the ever growing case file. They might be useful later. More for what they didn’t contain than what they did contain. Now, it was time to go talk to Cadance.
She left her office again, stepping outside and passing under the shadow of the Ponies of Justice as she made her way towards the palace. The reprieve from the incessant heat hadn’t lasted long. The hot, muggy air felt as if it were clinging to her fur. The sidewalks and streets were busy tonight. To her left, a couple of well-dressed ponies laughed as they made their way towards the open doors of a noisy restaurant. When was the last time she had laughed? She couldn’t remember. Glancing at the restaurant, she noticed that it was packed, and the crowd was spilling out the doors into the outdoor patio in front of it. Then, she remembered it was Saturday, the end of the work week. Unlike the humans, the ponies worked Tuesday through Saturday, and their weekend was Sunday and Monday. Sunday in honor of Princess Celestia, and Monday in honor of Princess Luna. She’d lost track of the days. But she wasn’t interested in partying or dining anyway. She sped up to a trot, slowing down again only after the chatter and laughter of the crowd inside had become a low din of background noise.
As she walked, the ghosts that she thought had long since gone began to test the reinforced door she’d put up in her mind. Sometimes the ghosts were shapeless, nameless floating specters. Other times, they were ponies she’d known and lost during the war. And still other times, they were human soldiers, using explosives, and RPGs and any number of other weapons to try to blast away the door. She’d spent the better part of the last twenty years building up that door. Putting deadbolts and chain locks on it. Nailing boards across it to keep them from battering it down. But now, the chain locks were hanging loose, the nails starting to pull out of the boards she’d put across the doors. And somehow, the ghosts knew it and were trying everything they could to get the door to her mind open and burst in. They were knocking on it, pounding on it, wearing her down, waiting for her to give up and let them in. She would not let them in. Not by choice. But how long would it be until the door weakened to the point that it simply broke down? How long until the secure bunker she’d built to wall off her mind would be compromised?
She cursed the human soldiers in the dungeon again. It was all their fault. If they had just stayed in their own damn airspace, she wouldn’t have to deal with them right now. And her door wouldn’t be in danger of blowing apart to let the ghosts in. It was also Cadance’s fault. And Shining Armor and Celestia and Luna’s fault, but she didn’t dare curse them. Still, anger at them churned inside of her like a thunderstorm. It was their fault this case had been assigned to her. Especially Cadance. She had specifically requested the director to assign it to her. But the other monarchs were at fault too. Not one of them had had the nerve to stand up to Cadance. She cursed the director too, even though he had just been following orders from the Princess.
As she approached the palace courtyard, the laughter of ponies enjoying themselves began to torment her ears. She passed over the drawbridge, through the gate, and into the courtyard, but kept her eyes trained to the ground in front of her. Still, from the corner of her eyes, she could see ponies lounging in the palace gardens. To her right a sparkling fountain glowed under magical lighting, sounding like a pristine waterfall as the falling stream churned up white cloud-like billows from the pool beneath. Two young crystal pegasi – who were probably hiding from their parents – sat on the marble ledge of the fountain, their lips pressed against each other, their wings spread widely as if mocking her. She turned her head to the left until she couldn’t see them anymore, then sped up. The guards at the palace doors opened them and she stepped inside. Relief flowed through her when the massive doors closed behind her, shutting out the sounds from outside like she wished she could shut off the ghosts in her head. She made her way quickly to Princess Cadance’s royal apartment, stopping at the gold trimmed doors with the Crystal Heart replicas embedded into the wood.
“I need to speak to Her Majesty about my case,” she said to the highest ranking of the four guards standing at the door.
The guard nodded, then turned and knocked on the massive doors. The guards inside unlocked and opened them, closing and locking them again after she had stepped into the receiving area.
“Her Majesty will be with you shortly.”
“Thank you,” Ice responded with a gracious nod, glancing around the room. Of course, it hadn’t really changed from the last time she’d been in here, although it was slightly dimmer because there was no fire in the fireplace on this hot night. There were two teapots sitting on the table near the wall this time instead of one. It was the kind of thing most probably wouldn’t notice. But her days in Bat Team Alpha had taught her to notice any change in details, no matter how small and seemingly insignificant. It was usually those small changes that went unnoticed that got you killed.
As she waited, that nervousness poking at her again, joining with the ghosts pounding on the door of her mind. That nervousness that Cadance could read her mind. See her dark thoughts. Know what she was thinking about the humans, and of her desire to punish them, whether or not they were guilty of the murder they were accused of (although she still had no doubt that they were). She chastised herself for thinking like a filly. Such thoughts were silly. Even the Princesses couldn’t read minds.
Although, she realized with a slight shudder, Luna did have the ability to dream walk. So far, Ice didn’t think she had dreamed about punishing the prisoners. In fact, she didn’t think she had dreamed about the case at all. But what if she did? Would Luna get suspicious? She tried not to worry about that either. After all, the mere fact that she wanted to punish them was not evidence that she would actually do so outside of the dream world. And besides, Luna’s dreams were probably far darker than anything she would dream about. Yes, Luna was no longer Nightmare Moon, but Luna probably still dreamed about overthrowing her sister and taking sole rule of Equestria. It was safe to explore such things in the virtual confines of the dream world.
A minute later, Cadance stepped out of her apartment. Ice bowed as the Royal Alicorn approached her.
“Please, no need for that,” Cadance said, and Ice quickly rose. Cadance motioned to the kettles on the tray. “Shining Armor is on his way here, so I figured he might as well listen too. I’d like to wait a few minutes for him. Would you like some tea? I have chamomile and Earl Grey.”
Ice almost went for the Earl Grey, but then changed her mind. Chamomile was a mild sedative and had relaxation properties. Cadance probably used it to unwind after a long day of diplomatic functions. Ice was just starting her day, and feared the tea might make her drowsy. But then again, perhaps the tea would silence the ghosts pounding on the doors of her mind. The caffeine in the Earl Grey was probably not what she needed right now. She was nervous enough as it is.
“I’ll have chamomile, please,” Ice said before sitting on her haunches near the table.
Cadance’s horn glowed with a golden aura and the tea kettle on the table near the wall glowed as well, before beginning to steam as the alicorn used her magic to heat the water. Even using a very small fraction of the full amount of her power, it didn’t take long at all to bring the water to a near boil. Steam rose from the spout, filling the room with a sweet, herbal aroma as Cadance levitated the kettle, filled a teacup, and then floated the cup over to the table in front of Ice, setting it down gently in front of her.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said, feeling her anger at Cadance melt away, a slight taint of guilt replacing it. It was hard to stay angry at a sovereign ruler who was humble enough to take on the role of a servant and bring tea to her own subjects. The hot tea might exacerbate the warm night, but within a couple of minutes, the herb began to take effect, and she felt more relaxed. The door opened again, and Shining Armor stepped into the room.
“Please, remain as you are,” the Prince said before Ice even had a chance to stand and bow. “I’m sorry for keeping you waiting.”
“No need to apologize, My Lord.” Ice relaxed again. It was also hard to stay angry at a sovereign who was humble enough to apologize to one of their subjects for something as trivial as making them wait for what had only been three or four minutes.
“Tea, dear? I made some Earl Grey for you.” Cadance said.
“Yes, love. Thank you,” Shining Armor said with a smile.
Cadance nodded, using her magic to reheat the kettle of Earl Grey before pouring a cup and levitating it over to the table. She poured a cup of chamomile for herself before turning her attention to Ice again.
“You have an update on the case?” The two Royals moved to the table and sat on their haunches across from her.
“I do, Your Majesty. I have received extradition requests from both the United States and Afghanistan. As I expected they would, both countries have already waved the death penalty on their first request. The U.S. Navy JAG officer who is handling the case sent me limited circumstantial evidence, but he has no motive. There were multiple witnesses who saw U.S. Marines matching the number and dress of the prisoners arrive and leave the area of the murder within minutes of the time it occurred, but none of them can make a positive ID. I requested contact information for the witnesses, but JAG refused to provide them on the grounds that they had promised anonymity to the witnesses. The base commanders reported that all five of the humans were AWOL at the time of the murder. The flight the humans took was a scheduled flight. But JAG sent me air traffic control tapes confirming that approximately two hours into the flight, the humans deviated from their flight plan and made maneuvers intended to give the illusion to controllers that the aircraft had ditched in the ocean. On our side of things, the ground search team found the objects that the prisoners dropped from their aircraft. The prisoners were telling the truth about those … after lying the first time that is. They are portable aviation radios.”
Cadance and Shining Armor listened intently, occasionally sipping their cups of tea as she briefed them.
“And what is your opinion?” Cadance asked when Ice had finished.
Ice was quiet for a few moments. She’d have to play her cards right if she still wanted to be able to prosecute this case and ensure she was the one who got to punish the humans. She thought carefully about what she wanted to say before speaking.
“The evidence JAG presented me with is reasonably compelling, but completely circumstantial. It’s not enough to go to trial with, and most definitely not enough to get a conviction. I told the JAG officer handling the case as much. He claims he has additional evidence, but he’s refusing to send it to me. For national security reasons, he claims.”
Cadance nodded. “Should we extradite, then?”
Ice shook her head. “At this time, I would not recommend it for two reasons. First, the legal question about which country has jurisdiction to prosecute the crime isn’t entirely clear. I need more time to look into it. And second, I requested personnel files for the prisoners. JAG sent them to me, but … while there are no disciplinary actions against any of the prisoners, there are no positive remarks or letters of commendation either. The files are completely unremarkable.”
“And there’s something that makes you uncomfortable about that,” Cadance stated, prompting Ice to continue.
“Three of them are MARSOC. Marine special operations. That’s sort of like our Bat Team Alpha. How do three Marines with such completely bland service records get into an elite unit like MARSOC?”
“You think their personnel files have been altered?” Shining Armor questioned, raising an eyelid.
“My gut feeling is that sections have been removed from the records, My Lord. Something that JAG doesn’t want me to find out about because it might weaken the evidence and suggest that perhaps the prisoners’ claim of innocence is true.”
Ice’s heart beat just a little faster in her chest as she lied directly to the Royals. She didn’t actually believe for one second that the prisoners were innocent. She knew they were guilty. What she actually expected had been removed from the personnel files were notes about prior disciplinary problems that would suggest the prisoners were more than capable of cold-blooded murder. After all, if that were to get out, it would raise difficult to answer questions about why they had not been removed from service before they had had a chance to kill. She was still convinced that Reid’s game was to provide just enough evidence to make the prisoners look guilty, but not enough evidence for her to try the case herself. He wanted to force her to recommend extradition. She wasn’t about to play his game. The prisoners were hers. Hers to put on trial. Hers to punish. But hopefully, claiming she believed the missing information from the files might exonerate the prisoners would validate her recommendation not to extradite at this time.
“But if the human military won’t send you the missing information, then it would seem you have nowhere to go with the case,” Cadance stated. “Even if the circumstantial evidence is not strong enough for you to recommend trial, it is compelling enough that Shining Armor and I would not be inclined to grant asylum and have these potential killers running free in the Crystal Empire.” Shining Armor nodded his head in agreement with his wife.
“No, I definitely don’t recommend granting asylum,” Ice responded, suppressing a wince as she realized she’d said it with more enthusiasm than she intended. However, neither Prince nor Princess gave any reaction suggesting that they were suspicious. Ice continued, making a conscious effort of will to slow down so as not to give away her ulterior motives.
“My recommendation for now is to continue holding them. I’m reasonably certain I can convince JAG to send me the missing information from the personnel files.”
“How do you plan to do that?” Cadance asked.
“By accusing them of altering the files they sent me, which I am almost certain they did. By convincing them that there is no chance in Tartarus that I will extradite if they continue to actively try to deceive me by feeding me incomplete and altered evidence.”
Cadance appeared to think about this for several moments. Ice’s mind ran wild with irrational fears. Why was Cadance taking so long to respond? Was she on to Ice’s game? Did she suspect a lie? Ice was certain she hadn’t given herself away. Her explanations for why she couldn’t recommend extradition at this time had been perfectly reasonable. She was sure of it. After an eternity, Cadance nodded her head. Ice felt her tension snap like a breaking rubber band.
“Very well. You have done good work on this case so far. Please continue to keep us informed.”
“I will, Your Majesties,” Ice responded, downing the last swallow of her tea before standing and bowing to the two monarchs. They nodded in response, and she turned to leave. The two doors glowed with a golden aura as Shining Armor opened them for her. She stepped out and started to walk way. The doors closed behind her, and a wave of relief washed over her. It was good to be out from under the watchful gaze of the two Royals.
She made her way out of the palace. It was quiet now, except for the serene waterfall sounds of the fountain. The courtyard stayed open late on weekends for the enjoyment of the citizens of Crystal City. But by now, it would be closed, and the Crystal Guards would have made everyone leave. No doubt, much to the annoyance of the two young lovers she had seen at the fountain earlier.
As she walked, she smiled to herself. She was certain neither Princess Cadance nor Prince Shining Armor suspected any shenanigans on her part. As far as getting the missing information from the personnel files, she had no intention of asking Reid for it. There was no way she’d convince him to send it to her. He couldn’t do it now without making himself look as guilty of lying as the prisoners themselves. If he sent her the missing information, it would prove that he’d been intentionally trying to deceive her. Withholding evidence without telling her he was withholding it for security reasons wasn’t quite the same as downright falsifying evidence, but it was almost as bad. Reid would be well aware that it would completely destroy any trust that he thought she had in him. Not that she had any, of course.
Besides, she didn’t need Reid. She had something much better. Something that not even Cadance, Shining Armor, or the director of her office was aware of. Something not even Luna or Celestia knew about. She had a mole in the U.S. Department of Defense.
VII
The truth was, Cadance and Shining Armor probably suspected there might be a mole involved. They almost certainly doubted that JAG would send her unaltered personnel files, as that would be basically admitting that they’d been tampering with possible evidence. But moles were not the kind of thing that leaders of nations talked about. Everyone knew they existed, but leaders tended to take a don’t ask don’t tell policy towards them. That way, they would have plausible deniability. If the mole were ever discovered, the leaders could claim they had had no idea that one of their agents was working with a mole.
It had been a long time since Ice had talked to Dolphin, though. She hoped he was still at the Department of Defense. She had no idea what his real name was, of course. Neither did he know what her real name was. He was Dolphin, and she was Darkstar. That’s all either one of them knew. In a way, she liked Dolphin. She supposed it was because she had no idea what he looked like, had never heard his voice, and had no idea what his human name was. That made it easy to pretend he wasn’t human.
Dolphin would certainly be able to get her the personnel files if he was still at the DOD. Unfortunately, she doubted he would be able to get her any of the evidence regarding the case itself. That would likely be stored somewhere where he couldn’t get access to it. But it wouldn’t hurt to ask.
She turned left, passing under the Ponies of Justice before entering her office building and quickly making her way to her own office. Aspen wasn’t there. She sat on her haunches behind her desk, turned on her computer, and began to type.
% sptalk Dolphin
Shadow Ponytalk v 5.8, Connecting to Dolphin …….
Digging SSH tunnel ……….. Tunnel established
Encrypted connection established. Shadowbolt Cypher, 2048 bit key
Exchanging certificates ….. Positive ID established: Dolphin
Dolphin: Hello, Darkstar. It’s been a long time.
Darkstar: Hi, Dolphin. Yes it has. But probably better if we don’t contact each other any more than necessary, yes?
Dolphin: That’s true. What can I do for you?
Darkstar: I need personnel files for the Marines we are holding. You know their names?
Dolphin: I do. Transferring now.
*** File transfer initiated: marine_person.tar.gz.shadowbolt (1284 Kb).
*** Transfer complete.
“That was fast,” Ice said to herself, raising an eyebrow and perking her ears.
Darkstar: Talk about instant service.
Dolphin: Figured you’d contact me and ask for them. Had them already prepared. JAG requested files the other day to send to you, but I was ordered to remove information from them. Think you’ll find the complete files to be interesting reading.
So, her suspicions were correct. The files she had gotten from JAG had been altered.
Darkstar: Thank you. Don’t suppose there’s anything else you can tell me about the case.
Dolphin: Have no access to any case data. Someone’s really keeping a lid on this one.
Ice frowned, but she’d expected as much.
Darkstar: Understood. Thank you for sending the records.
Dolphin: You owe me.
Darkstar: I know I do.
Connection closed.
%
Ice quickly moved the transferred file to a hoof drive, then inserted the hoof drive into another computer that wasn’t connected to the network. She trusted Dolphin enough to accept electronic files from him, but she wasn’t about to open them on a computer that was connected to the network, just in case. The archive he sent her was encrypted, and she used the password they had previously agreed upon for exchanging documents to unlock and uncompress it. Then, she ran a virus scan on it just to be safe. Impatience built inside her as she waited for the scan to finish, like when she had been a filly waiting to open a present on Hearth’s Warming. What wonderful gifts were waiting for her inside these files? Now she just had one more decision to make. Whose gift did she want to open first? Boyd’s? Or Stetson’s? She couldn’t decide which one of the humans infuriated her more. She decided to look at Boyd’s file first. He was the one who’d had the nerve to ask about her wings, after all. Now, she’d see what dark secrets were hiding in his past. She opened Boyd’s file with the giddiness of that same foal tearing open the wrapping on the Hearth’s Warming present, eyes wide as she waited for a glimpse of what might be inside. When the file had finished loading, she quickly scanned over the first couple of pages. There was nothing new on them she hadn’t already seen. She turned the page, and her eyes froze, locking onto a section in bold print that had definitely not existed in the original files she’d been sent. Her jaw dropped open as she read:
NAVY CROSS
On November 14, 2013, Sergeant Boyd, at extreme risk to his own life and going well above and beyond the call of duty, threw himself into the line of fire to protect an Afghan elementary school from a sudden attack by insurgent forces. Sergeant Boyd, together with two companions, then proceeded to hold off an attack by 36 insurgents for the next fifteen minutes until reinforcements could arrive. During the entire time, Sergeant Boyd kept himself in front of the elementary school children, with only a plaster wall to shield him from incoming insurgent fire. Sergeant Boyd and his two companions exchanged fire with the insurgents through windows and doors, preventing them from approaching or entering the school building. As a result of the actions of Sergeant Boyd and his two companions, not a single child was killed in the incident. There is no doubt that the heroic actions of Sergeant Boyd and his two companions saved the lives of 84 children, who would most likely have been killed by the insurgents if Sergeant Boyd and his two companions had not seen the situation that was developing and intervened.
For a long time, Ice simply stared at the piece of paper in front of her. She shook her head once, wondering if she had read something wrong, and then read through the commendation again. She put Boyd’s file aside, then read through the files for the other two MARSOC soldiers, finding similar commendations. All three were Navy Cross recipients. All three had been at the school on November 14th, 2013, and saved those school children.
She put the files aside, reeling at the new information. All three of the MARSOC soldiers sitting in the dungeon were Navy Cross recipients? And they had received those medals for throwing themselves into a practically suicidal situation to save the lives of school children? For the first time since learning about this case, Ice begin to wonder if perhaps … just maybe … the humans were telling the truth. What if they really weren’t guilty of killing the allied militia commander? But if they weren’t, then why were they being framed for it? Why would the U.S. Marines want to frame three Navy Cross recipients of all people for murder?
Ice added the new personnel files to the existing files on the case, relieved now that she had rescued the old ones from the trash. Now, she had proof that Reid wasn’t just withholding evidence from her. He was being downright deceptive and trying to mislead her about who the prisoners in her custody actually were.
She stepped out of her office, walking outside and making her way towards the palace. Cadance might be asleep by now, but this was worth waking her up over.
It was well into the night, but the streets of Crystal City were still noisy, the outdoor patios of the restaurants lining the sidewalks still full of ponies enjoying the beginning of the weekend. But Ice paid no attention to them at all this time. She turned the case over and over in her mind, wracking her brain with the details. If the prisoners were innocent, then why had they run? There was no way they could have learned about the murder before the time they left the airfield. At least, that’s what Reid had told her. The times given by the air traffic controllers in their statements seemed to confirm that he was telling the truth about when the prisoners had left the airfield. Could the air traffic controllers have lied about the times? Could someone else have altered their statements before sending them to her? There was one way to find out. She’d contact the Pegasus Guard at CHF tomorrow and have them pull the flight data recorders from the C-130. The data recorders would have a timestamp for when the wheels of the aircraft actually left the ground. The only potential problem with that was that she didn’t know if the Pegasus Guard had the equipment to read the information on the flight data recorder. After all, it wasn’t something they would have to do on a regular basis. She immediately ruled out the idea of sending it to Lockheed Martin, the manufacturer of the aircraft, and having them read it. Lockheed would probably send the recorder to the Marines and she’d never see it or any of the information on it again. Dolphin seemed like the best bet if the Pegasus Guard couldn’t read it.
But even if the statements from the air traffic controllers were accurate, there was the possibility that the statements from the witnesses who had seen the soldiers and heard the gunshot were not. What if the times on those statements had been altered? Originally, she had thought that the reason Reid had refused to give her the names or contact information of the witnesses was because he was trying to make sure she wouldn’t have enough evidence to try the case in the Crystal Empire, which would force her to extradite. But what if there was a far more sinister reason he didn’t want her to be able to talk to the witnesses?
But none of that explained why they had run, or what they were doing in the area of the murder. Reid had said none of the village residents had been able to account for the whereabouts of the soldiers at the time of the murder, including the ones who were known to engage in prostitution. But she doubted whether any of the prostitutes would have been willing to admit they had been with the soldiers. She didn’t know a great deal about Afghanistan, but she did know that prostitution was a relatively serious crime, and that under the Taliban, it had even been punishable by death. It wasn’t anymore. Not since the fall of the Taliban. But still, if the wrong person were to find out … suffice it to say, there would be good reasons for the prostitutes to keep their mouths shut, even if they had been guaranteed anonymity.
But that still left her no closer to an answer. Why had they run if they were innocent? And why refuse to answer questions if they were innocent? Even if they had been visiting a prostitute, she thought it unlikely they would go to all this trouble because of that, especially given her thoughts that the prostitutes wouldn’t talk. There were only two explanations that seemed possible for why they had run:
Either they were involved in the crime, or they knew they were going to be framed for the crime. And how could they know they were going to be framed for the crime that soon after it had happened?
A far more sinister theory began to brew in her mind. Is it possible that they had been ordered to kill the allied militia commander? That it had been an assassination mission gone bad because witnesses had seen it happen? And after that, the U.S. Government decided to disavow all knowledge of the mission and throw their operatives under the train instead? After all, the three Marines were MARSOC. Just the type who would be called upon to carry out such a black ops mission. The assassination mission theory seemed to explain a lot of her unanswered questions. If the prisoners knew they had botched the mission and been seen by witnesses, then they’d probably surmise that the U.S. Government was going to disavow any knowledge of the mission and they were likely to be framed for murder. After all, it would be a major disaster to the American mission in Afghanistan if it were to be known that the U.S. Government had ordered the assassination of a friendly militia commander. It would also explain why the prisoners were refusing to answer her questions. If they claimed they had been ordered to carry out the murder, it would be their word against the word of the U.S. Government. They’d have no evidence to back up their claim that they were following orders. And in the process, they would have effectively confessed to murder. Yes, this theory definitely explained a lot of things.
Of course, right now, all she had was a theory that explained a lot of seemingly unexplainable behavior from both the prisoners and from Reid. Right now, she couldn’t prove anything. Somehow, she had to figure out what had actually happened, and she had to be able to prove it. She frowned and laid her ears back. There was one thing she knew for sure: If the U.S Government didn’t want her to find the evidence that they had given the order for an assassination, then there was no way in Tartarus she was going to find it. It would be far too devastating to their mission in Afghanistan for them not to have made absolutely certain that every possible loose end was tied up, every possible leak sealed.
She turned and followed the wide road leading up to the palace entrance. At this time of night, the heavy iron gates were closed. Four thestrals from Luna’s own Night Guard were on duty. It was rare to see thestrals guarding the Crystal Palace these days. At one time, it had been common. But that was in the first year or two after the reappearance of the Crystal Empire, before the Crystal Guard had been formed. But as the Crystal Guard began to take shape, the Equestrian military began to pull out of the Crystal Empire. That was as planned. The Equestrian military’s presence in the Crystal Empire had always been a temporary solution until the Crystal Guard was ready to take over all of the military duties of the fledgling empire. But even now, once in awhile, Equestrian soldiers still filled in for gaps in the Crystal Guard military forces. The plan was for Equestria to completely withdraw its military forces from the Crystal Empire by the end of next year.
“The palace is not receiving guests at this time. You will need to come back tomorrow, sometime earlier,” one of the guards spoke in a gruff voice.
“I must speak with Their Majesties, about one of my cases.”
The guard hesitated for a moment, looking at one of his companions. The companion simply shrugged and nodded. The other guard turned his attention back to Ice.
“If it weren’t for the fact that you used to be one of us, I’d say no. But I’ll allow you in.”
Ice bristled at the statement. How could the guard be so insulting? He had come right out and told her she used to be a thestral. Used to be a bat pony. But she wasn’t anymore because she didn’t have wings. But then, just as quickly as she had lost it, her rational mind took over again. Of course, that’s not what the guard meant at all. Her eroding psyche had twisted the ambiguous nature of the guard’s words into an insult. A sick feeling, like a taint of cyanide shuddered through her as she realized she had briefly contemplated attacking the guard for his statement and showing him just how much of one of them she used to be. Not only would that have been irrational, but it would have been foolish. With her Bat Team Alpha training, she could have easily taken one of the guards. But there were four of them there. They would have had her subdued quickly enough. And then she would be joining the humans as a guest in the dungeon. She was poisoning herself with this whole thing she realized with a shiver. How much longer would it be before she completely lost her mind?
“Thank you, sir,” she said with a nod of respect toward the guard, trying to keep her anger focused on those who deserved it instead of on the guard. Although, a very small but noticeable new voice had joined the others in her mind. A voice that asked her if just maybe, the one who deserved her anger was herself.
The thestral turned around and knocked on the large iron doors. “One to enter. Special business.”
There was a loud sound of clanking metal as the guards on the other side of the doors released the huge bars holding them shut. The doors began to swing outwards, and the iron grating on the other side began to rise. She made her way under the grating as soon as it was high enough to clear her head and continued on her way through the courtyard to the palace entrance. After being stopped two more times at two different gates and explaining herself, she was on her way to the living quarters area of the palace. She was stopped once more by the Crystal Guards at the entrance to the royal apartment, but they allowed her to enter after she gave a brief explanation.
“It may be a few minutes, ma’am. Their Majesties are in bed and will need to be woken up.”
“Thank you.” Ice nodded. She was glad Shining Armor would be in on this conversation. For what she had planned, she might need his support … Assuming he’d grown a pair since the beginning of this investigation and was ready to stand up to his wife.
As she waited, she noted the stark contrast between Cadance and Shining Armor’s apartment, and Luna’s apartment back at Canterlot Castle. The apartment here shined with crystal and pink quartz. Red roses decorated the fireplace mantle and also sat at the center of the coffee table in the middle of the room. The crystal in the room reflected the light of the bright lanterns on the wall, amplifying it and giving the room a bright and warm appearance.
Luna’s apartment, on the other hoof, looked more like a gothic vampire hideout. Her fireplace was constructed of black obsidian with dark blue and purple patterns running through it, such that it resembled looking at a nebulous area of deep space through a telescope. Gargoyle-like bats were carved into the mantle above her fireplace, appearing to stare down at visitors, their fangs exposed as if they were about to come to life, fly down from the mantle, and make a bloodmeal out the guests in the room. Luna’s receiving area was sparsely lit with only a few lanterns mounted on the wall. What light the lanterns did emit, did not reflect around the room. Instead, it seemed to be absorbed by the matte gray walls as if it were being sucked into a black hole. Instead of the bright, sparkling crystal tables that adorned Cadance and Shining Armor’s apartment, Luna’s furnishings were carved from deep onyx stone.
Ice looked at the tea set on the table by the wall, and remembered Luna’s tea set. Luna’s was carved from dark stone rather than cast from gold and silver. The handle on the lid of the kettle was shaped like a bat with its wings extended, its mouth open just enough to show fangs. The bat looked like it might fly off the top of the tea kettle at any moment and sink those fangs into some unsuspecting guest. It was no wonder the speculation still persisted in some circles that the thestrals were vampire ponies, given they served a monarch who felt she had a responsibility to be the Queen of Goth in addition to the Princess of the Night. There was even a crazy rumor floating around that thestrals did not sexually reproduce, but rather created more of themselves by biting other ponies and turning them into thestrals. Everything in Luna’s apartment had a dark matte finish, seeming as if were intentionally designed to capture and devour light rather than reflect it. Ice wondered if Luna’s aesthetic tastes were a remnant from her time spent as Nightmare Moon. Some aspect of the Dark Queen that had survived being zapped by the Elements of Harmony.
All that said, Ice much preferred Luna’s dark, gothic apartment to the bright, cheery, pink and red of the apartment she was in now. Well, all except for one thing. The floor in Luna’s apartment was full of night-colored rugs covered in silver star constellations. The stars on the rugs twinkled and glowed with an unnatural light that Ice assumed must be magic in nature. The glowing star rugs gave the illusion of strolling among the stars in the night sky. Ice had come to hate that aspect of Luna’s apartment. It reminded her of a time when she’d been able to fly. Thinking about it now also reminded her of part of the reason she had requested transfer to the Crystal Empire. Everything about Canterlot reminded her too much of a past she was trying to forget. There was also the Crystal Heart. Ice didn’t actually believe in the power of the Crystal Heart. She considered it an ancient relic that was treated as a sacred item by ponies who didn’t know any better. But as a last resort, she had hoped that by moving close to it, perhaps it would help her psyche heal. In the end, she had decided that it had not. Only her will of iron and her own hard work had put back together her fragile mind, which was now threatening to shatter again. Perhaps her repair job had not been as good as she’d thought.
A door at the other side of the room opened, and Cadance and Shining Armor both stepped inside. Cadance, she noticed, was not wearing any of her royal regalia. Both Cadance and Shining Armor had bad cases of bed mane, with tangles knotting both their manes and tails. Ice bowed, but Cadance shook her head.
“No need for that. So what brings you here so late?”
“New evidence, and new questions about the case.”
“Go on,” Cadance prompted.
“As I suspected, the original personnel files I was sent were missing information. A rather big piece of information as it turns out. The three MARSOC marines are Navy Cross recipients. They saved a school of more than eighty children from an attack by insurgents at extreme risk to their own lives.”
She didn’t go into the details, there was no reason to at this point. If the two Royals hadn’t been fully awake before, their wide-eyed expressions made it clear that they were now.
“That’s definitely an interesting development,” Cadance said. “So what are your thoughts at this point?”
Ice shook her head. “It doesn’t make any sense. Why would three soldiers, all Navy Cross recipients, murder a friendly militia commander in cold blood? And why didn’t JAG want me to know they were Navy Cross recipients? Why didn’t they want me to know about their heroic actions at the school? Right now, I’m thinking either they are innocent and are being framed, or it was an assassination that they were ordered to carry out, and now their own government is using them as scapegoats. The second possibility is the one that I think is most likely. But either of those scenarios, we clearly cannot extradite. And if I am to do anything with the circumstantial evidence we have, I at least need to find motive. Right now, I have no motive at all. I don’t even have any ideas about possible motive.”
“And how do you intend to find it if JAG won’t cooperate with you?” Cadance asked.
“Well, that’s what I came to you so late in the night for. I uh … need authorization for a trip.”
“A trip? To where?” The suspicious, accusing tone in Cadance’s voice and her lowered eyes made it clear that she already knew the answer to her own question. But Ice answered anyway.
“Afghanistan.”
Cadance frowned, but Shining Armor gave no visible reaction. Then, Cadance shook her head slightly and spoke again.
“No. You know how dangerous Afghanistan is right now. I will not put you in that kind of danger.”
She turned her eyes to Shining Armor. Come on Shiny, grow a pair of balls and stand up to your wife, she thought again, just as she had thought at the first meeting. But once again, all she said was “My Lord?”
Shining Armor turned his attention to Cadance. “Ice is former Bat Team Alpha, Cady. No one who decided to attack her or attempt to … take advantage of her, would fare very well. Ice is more than capable of taking care of herself.”
“I am well aware of the combat prowess of Bat Team Alpha members, dear. It’s not how she’d fare in a close quarters combat situation that concerns me. It’s getting caught in the crossfire of a gunfight, or being the victim of a roadside bomb that worries me.”
“Both situations which she is trained to avoid,” Shining Armor responded.
“If I may speak?” Ice interjected. Both Royals turned their attention to her.
“Please, add your thoughts,” Cadance said.
“Thank you,” Ice said with a nod. “I’m aware that travel to Afghanistan is a risk. But I don’t see where we have any other options if truth and justice are to be upheld. Clearly, given what we know right now, we can’t extradite the humans. Nor can we charge them with any crime and try them under our own laws. But we can’t grant them asylum either, given the circumstantial evidence that they may be guilty of murder. So what do we do with them? Keep them locked in the dungeon indefinitely? Clearly we cannot do that. The Uniform Code of Pony Justice does not allow for indefinite imprisonment without trial and conviction. So what are we to do with them?”
Cadance nodded with a frown. “You’re right, of course. We cannot. But what do you plan to do when you get to Afghanistan?”
“I don’t know yet. But even if I did know, it would be better if I didn’t tell you.”
Cadance narrowed her eyes at that, but Shining Armor gave no reaction. As the former High Commander of Equestrian forces, Shining Armor was well aware that it was better to have a don’t ask, don’t tell attitude when it came to Bat Team Alpha black ops. Plausible deniability at work again. Shining Armor knew better than to ask what a Bat Team Alpha operative planned to do to accomplish their mission objective. Cadance did not. The two Royals looked at each other, the unspoken question passing between them. Finally, Shining Armor spoke up.
“She’ll be fine, Cady. She’s trained for this. Let her go.”
Cadance bowed her head slightly in acquiescence before turning back to Ice. Her ears were lowered, leaving no doubt that she was not happy about this.
“Very well. I will bow to my husband’s far greater knowledge of Bat Team Alpha capabilities and training on this issue. But please remember, Ice, it has been twenty years since you were active in Bat Team Alpha. Please be careful and do not take any unnecessary risks.”
“I promise I will be careful, Your Majesty.” Way to go, Shiny! So you’re not a gelding after all!
“When can you be ready to leave?” Shining Armor asked.
“In two hours, My Lord. I need to go home and pack, and then I need to stop back at my office and leave a note for the Pegasus Guard at CHF to pull the flight data recorder from the aircraft. JAG could be lying to me about the timeline of events, but the flight data recorder won’t lie.”
“Very well. I will arrange for a transport to pick you up at your office in two hours. I suppose you’d better go get ready.”
“Thank you, My Lord,” Ice said, bowing to the two Royals before turning. The door glowed with a golden aura as Cadance opened it with her magic, and Ice stepped outside.
As she made her way back to her home, she broke into a trot, even though she had plenty of time. She smiled to herself, thinking about the mission that lay ahead. Infiltration into a dangerous area, encounters with potential hostiles. It was almost like old times. Like she would be able to relive her days as a Bat Team Alpha member. Granted, she didn’t have any intention of getting into a combat situation on this mission. But not all Bat Team Alpha missions involved combat anyway. Some of the missions she had been on during the Contact War had just been deep penetration recon and intelligence gathering missions. Despite the fact that she didn’t yet know what she was going to do when she got to Afghanistan, she expected this mission would be somewhat similar to those. And if she did end up in a combat situation? Well, Cadance’s concerns were unfounded. Ice had been careful to keep herself in fighting shape for the last twenty years. And she knew she still had what it takes.
She entered her apartment, quickly going to her bedroom and pulling two oversized saddlebags out of her closet and tossing them onto the bed. Then, she scanned the dresses, skirts, and other such clothing hanging in her closet. Yes, the large collection of garments she had collected for covering her wing joints would be useful now. She began to take the clothing out of the closet and carefully pack it into the saddlebags. By the time she had finished, she had packed basically all of the clothes she owned. One could easily be excused for thinking she had gone soft and vastly over-packed, especially for a former soldier who knew how to survive on almost nothing. But given she still didn’t know what she was actually going to do when she got to Afghanistan, she wasn’t sure how she was going to have to dress. One could never have too many clothing choices when working on undercover special operations missions.
When she’d finished packing her clothes, she threw her brush and other personal grooming tools into one of the saddlebags. She also made sure to pack her UV blocking sunglasses. She strongly suspected she’d have to be out at least a little bit during the day, and thestrals couldn’t see well during the day unless they wore dark sunglasses. She tried to close the saddlebags. No way the latches were going to reach. The bags were too overstuffed. She yanked them off onto the floor, then climbed on top of one and sat on it to compress it down. That worked. She did the same to the other one. When she’d secured both of them, she slung them across her back. With as much as she’d packed into the bags, she estimated the two of them combined weighed over two hundred pounds. Thank Luna she’d done all that physical training to get herself into earth pony like shape.
She left her apartment and started towards her office. As the initial shock of seeing that three of the marines were Navy Cross recipients began to wear off, she once again begin to think they were guilty of murder. After all, even if they had been ordered to kill the friendly militia commander, they should have refused to do it. Sure, they might have saved the lives of more than eighty school children. But that was then and this is now. And if it had been an order, well, all the more reason to hate and distrust the humans. All of them. Why trust any species that would kill their own friends as soon as it’s convenient to do so? The friends who were helping them in a war no less? Yes, humans were conniving, murderous savages. Rotten all the way to the core. This case would only prove it.
She climbed the stairs to her office, passing under the Ponies of Justice, and went inside. When she reached her office, she took out a piece of paper and began to leave a note for Aspen.
Aspen,
Please contact the Pegasus Guard at CHF and ask them to pull the flight data recorders on the C-130. If possible, have them analyze the data and send me a report. Specifically, I am interested in what time the wheels left the ground in Afghanistan, and what time they deviated from their flight plan and began flying on their course to the Crystal Empire.
Thanks,
Ice Moon
She folded the letter and dropped it in his inbox. It would be a good task for the intern.
She looked at the clock on her wall, then left her office, stepping outside again, to the sight of an unmarked, covered chariot waiting for her, pulled by two transport pegasi of the Crystal Guard.
“Good evening, sirs. I hope the night finds you well?” she said greeting them.
“Good evening, ma’am,” The higher ranking of the two responded. “I must say our destination has me burning with curiosity, though I know you can’t tell me anything.”
“I have a feeling you’ll know what this is all about soon enough,” she responded. If her theory was correct that this had been an assassination and she could find the evidence to support it? This was going to be all over the international news within the next few days.
She unbuckled her saddlebags, slinging them into the chariot with her mouth, then climbed in and closed the door. After a short takeoff run, she the chariot pitched up and was airborne. Briefly, she looked out the window as the lights of Crystal City dropped away beneath them. In a near panic, she checked herself, shut her eyes as if the Sun had suddenly risen in front of them, and yanked the curtains closed, securing them with the velcro along the edges. She felt the pain go through her again. Seeing the ground recede beneath them had sent the memories of when she used to be able to fly cannonballing into her. She had avoided flying on chariots for the last twenty years, always taking the train instead. This was an all too painful reminder of why. But even more important, she didn’t want to know what Crystal City looked like from the air. That was one of things that had tormented her before she’d moved away from Canterlot. She’d flown over Canterlot so many times that she had a near perfect aerial photograph of the entire city stored in her mind. That meant that pretty much every time she walked the streets of Canterlot, images would enter her mind of what various buildings and monuments looked like from the air. Images that were only memories she’d never be able to see again. At least not under her own power. Here, at least, those images didn’t torment her. She could walk the streets of Crystal City in ignorant bliss, having no knowledge at all of what anything looked like from the air. She wanted to keep it that way.
She comforted herself with the knowledge that the humans in the dungeon would pay soon enough. And when this story broke to the international news after she proved her theory correct, all of America would pay with them. Despite her emotional turmoil, she smiled.
Princess Cadance sat in the receiving room of her royal apartment in the Crystal Palace, taking a sip of chamomile tea and setting the white porcelain teacup down on the silver serving tray on the table in front of her. Gradually, the tea began to calm her and help restore her normal serenity. The human prisoners in the dungeon below the palace had thrown her off balance. She’d been fine with it at first, but these new developments had her rattled. When it had looked like it was going to be a simple case of navigational error, it had been like she was standing in a small puddle, not even deep enough to rise above her shoes and get her fur wet. But now, the case had become an ocean, and she felt she was in way over her head and about to drown. By alicorn standards, and by the standards of royalty, she was still young and, at least in her own estimation, very inexperienced. This was really the first major international incident she’d ever had to deal with, not including the changeling invasion of Canterlot. Sure, she and her husband might have saved the day and ended the invasion, but Canterlot was Celestia and Luna’s domain. She and Shining Armor had really just been soldiers in that incident. This was the first time an international diplomatic incident had ever landed directly on her own doorstep.
“Your Majesty?” one of the two Crystal Guards stationed at the door called to her. “Princess Celestia is here to see you.”
Cadance nodded and sat up a little straighter, trying to look the part of a confident monarch who was in control of the situation. “Thank you. Please send her in.”
The two Crystal Guards turned and drew back the security bar holding the golden doors shut, then opened them. The snow-white alicorn Princess of the Sun entered, stopping when she was through the door, placing one foreleg in front of her and folding the other underneath her as she gave a low bow. Cadance had to resist the urge to roll her eyes.
“Please, Celestia, rise. You know you don’t have to bow to me.”
“The Crystal Empire is your kingdom, Your Majesty,” Celestia said in a mentoring voice as she came up from her bow. “It is proper to show respect to a friendly monarch when meeting them in their own kingdom.” A hint of a smile formed on the white alicorn’s muzzle.
“Ever the teacher,” Cadance said with a chuckle and rolled her eyes. Celestia stepped forward and the two of them embraced, wrapping their forelegs around each other.
“There is always more to learn. And I will always be here for you and Twilight, even though the two of you aren’t officially my students anymore.” The two of them released each other and Celestia moved to the other side of the table, sitting down across from Cadance.
“Thank you for answering my summons so quickly,” Cadance said, then used her magic to reheat the pot of tea on the silver tray. It only took a few seconds until steam began to rise from the spout. She levitated the teapot, pouring a second cup of tea for Celestia and setting it down in front of her. Celestia nodded in thanks.
“Of course. It is good to see you again. I assume this is about the human Marines?”
Cadance nodded in response, feeling nervousness start to build in her again like butterflies hatching from cocoons in her stomach. “I’ve never had to deal with an international incident before. Especially not one involving humans … And I’m worried ….” She trailed off, moving her gaze slightly to the floor. She was supposed to be a princess. The sovereign ruler of an empire. But she certainly didn’t feel like one right now.
“You’re worried that your decisions could end up further straining already tense relations between the United States and the Crystal Empire,” Celestia finished for her.
“Yes. Yes, that’s it exactly,” Cadance admitted with a nod. Celestia smiled in response.
“I understand. You are the Element of Love. It’s in your nature to want to make friends with everyone, and to have good relations with everyone. And that is a very admirable quality that will serve you well. It will make you a great a ruler who will be loved by everyone. Pony and non-pony alike.”
Cadance smiled slightly at the elder alicorn’s praise, feeling her spirits lift somewhat. But it did nothing to boost her confidence that she wouldn’t botch the handling of this case.
“Celestia, I … I want you to take over this case. When it was a simple navigation error, that was one thing. But now … I’m in it up to the tip of my horn. We are a vassal of Equestria, and I don’t yet have the experience in foreign policy to deal with an international –” Celestia was already shaking her head and frowning slightly. Cadance felt her stomach start to tighten up.
“I can’t, Cadance. Yes, The Crystal Empire is a vassal of Equestria. But our vassalage agreement exists only to help you and Shining Armor get the Empire on its hooves after the extensive damage done by King Sombra. Primarily, to maintain a military presence in The Crystal Empire until you’ve been able to build and train a proper army. But our agreement does not allow me to have any jurisdiction over domestic affairs or policy in the Crystal Empire. Nor does it give me any authority over judicial matters. You are the ruler of the Crystal Empire, Cadance. And you must do what you think is right and just.”
“But what if I don’t do the right thing? What if I screw this up?” Cadance asked, lowering her ears and casting her gaze on the floor.
“You won’t Cadance. If you remain true to your Element of Love, and you act out of love, then I have complete faith that you will do the right and just thing.”
Cadance looked up and Celestia smiled at her, then lifted a forehoof and rested it gently on her shoulder. The two of them embraced again.
“Thank you for your advice, Celestia.”
“You are very welcome,” Celestia responded before pulling away from the hug.
Cadance felt a little bit more confident thanks to her mentor’s confidence in her. She was still nervous, but at the same time, she knew that if she were going to be ruler of the Crystal Empire, these kind of decisions and situations were something she would need to learn to deal with. She forced herself to put on a smile.
“Thank you again for coming, Celestia.”
“I am glad I could be of service, Your Majesty,” Celestia said, taking a few steps back and bowing low again. Cadance rolled her eyes before responding.
“Now get out of here before I have you thrown in the dungeon for disobeying my request that you not bow to me,” she said lightheartedly and with a grin. Celestia grinned back with a slightly trollish expression before turning and leaving.
VIII
Bank of the Night was the only bank that was open in Crystal City at this hour. In fact, this bank was only open during the night. It was run by two thestrals and specifically catered to the thestral population of Crystal City. The number of bat ponies who lived in the city was small, but large enough to support a hoofful of businesses and government services catering to the nocturnal needs of thestrals. Ice’s chariot made a brief stop at the bank so she could exchange currency. Merchants in Afghanistan probably wouldn’t be familiar with Equestrian bits and probably wouldn’t accept them as payment. However, with all of the American soldiers stationed there, they would almost certainly accept American dollars. After a short exchange with a teller at the bank, she stepped out with one thousand dollars in U.S. currency, re-boarded the chariot, and they were airborne again. With nothing else to do, Ice leaned back, closed her eyes, and slept.
Some time later, a jolt awakened her from her sleep as the chariot touched down some ten hours later. It bumped and vibrated along the ground for a few seconds before coming to a stop. Ice put on her dark, UV blocking sunglasses, opened the door, and shivered briefly as a chill wave wrapped around her body. It was much colder here than it had been in the late Spring of Crystal City.
She stepped out of the chariot, her hooves sinking slightly into a layer of gray sand. The surrounding landscape was mostly arid, a combination of sandy desert, pasture, and occasional small copses of trees. Even with the dark sunglasses, the Sun here was harsh, and reflected off the sand like it reflected off the snow during winter in her own homeland. The terrain was mountainous and jagged. To her left, not far in the distance, cattle and sheep grazed, seemingly unattended. Some of them had stopped and raised their heads, as if trying to ascertain what these strange pony-like creatures were interrupting their lunch hour for. Ice removed her saddlebags from the chariot, slung them over her back with a slight grunt, then turned to the two Crystal Guard ponies pulling the chariot.
“You will be comfortable enough out here?”
“We will, ma’am. We have rations and water for four days.”
She nodded. “I don’t think I will be that long. If I’m going to be longer, I’ll bring you new supplies from the village.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Ice nodded and began her short trek into the village alone. Even though the Crystal Guard ponies were not wearing armor and gave no indication that they were military, she had decided it would be best to maintain as low of a profile as possible. Small grains of sand pressed in the frog of her hoof, irritating it like biting gnats. She found herself wishing she’d brought boots. She frowned at the desire. The years since she’d left Bat Team Alpha had caused her to go soft. Living in Crystal City with its smooth, pristine, sparkling streets had that effect on a pony.
After a short hike, she came to the outskirts of the village. She slowed down a bit as the thought dawned on her that this was the first time she’d set hoof in the human world since the war twenty years ago. But this world was very different than the one she had known then. In some ways it reminded her of the frontier villages in western Equestria such as Dodge City. But there was something horribly different about the village she was now approaching. Some kind of monster lurked here that didn’t exist in Equestria’s villages. A monster that she couldn’t quite put her hoof on. As she got closer, it became all too apparent what that monster was: Poverty. The people living in this village were dirt poor.
The village in front of her consisted mostly of low, single story buildings with flat roofs. Near the center of the village, a few buildings with two or even three stories stood above the rest. But other than having additional stories, they appeared to be similar in design to the rest. The majority of the dwellings were of mud brick construction and had a sooty ash color to them that made them blend in with the ground, clearly showing they had been built from material gathered from the surrounding landscape. Some of the buildings were in various states of completeness … or were falling apart. It was difficult to tell which. Very few had glass in the windows, and many only had torn, dirty sheets that looked more like rags than proper sheets covering the doors. Other buildings, most of which appeared to be places of business, were constructed of dirty white plaster, much of it crumbling and badly in need of repair. They had hastily constructed wooden or tin roofs that had clearly been designed for purely utilitarian purposes. They were intended to keep out the water and the Sun, and they also seemed to double as rooftop patios.
Bearded men lounged on several of the rooftops. They wore loose-fitting white or gray cotton pants along with low hanging long-sleeved white or gray shirts that by contemporary standards would be several sizes too large. The gray shirts had probably been white at one time, but had been stained gray by long hours of hard work in the fields combined with not enough washing. Given the dry feeling of the air, water was likely a precious commodity here. Not something to be wasted on things as non-essential as washing clothes on a regular basis. The men also wore short, wrapped turbans on their heads, making them look like they had their heads wrapped in bandages. They stared down at her, some pointing, some moving closer to the edges of the roofs to get a better look at her. She swiveled her sensitive ears in their direction and could already hear some of them calling to her, some making lewd gestures. She couldn’t understand the language they were speaking in, but there was no doubt the comments they were making were as vulgar as the gestures.
“I hope you fall off, you perverted monkeys,” she mumbled crudely under her breath. She could hardly blame them for staring. Very likely, she was the first pony they’d ever seen in their remote village. Still, there was no excuse for the salacious gestures and comments.
She shuddered slightly as all of the faces on the roof leered down at her. She wasn’t scared of the men themselves. If any of them actually tried anything with her, they’d have a rather painful surprise as she demonstrated Bat Team Alpha martial arts techniques on them. But along with the men on the rooftops, she saw ghosts: Uniformed men with sniper rifles. Snipers were a constant danger on rooftops. Granted, this wasn’t the war. But it was a war. So for once, she embraced those war images instead of trying to push them away. For the first time, it also occurred to her that she had been looking up for the first time in years. Briefly, the depression poked at her. That old tormenting friend reminding her that although she could look up and see the sky, she could never truly be part of it again. She forced those thoughts away and reminded herself again that she was in a war zone. Letting her mind drift into thoughts of self pity might very well get her killed here.
A light breeze brought the nauseating smell of rotting garbage and human waste on the air. She wrinkled her nose, her stomach threatening to lurch inside of her, making her glad she hadn’t eaten anything on the chariot. How could the humans who lived here stand that smell? Or was it just such an everyday companion that they didn’t even notice it anymore. Then again, maybe it could just be that human noses were defective and couldn’t smell nearly as well as equine noses.
She stepped into the village proper, walking down a dusty, unpaved road littered with potholes and wagon wheel tracks. A wooden cart approached on the left, pulled by a ragged brown ox, one of the turban wearing men sitting on a bench at the front. He looked down at her, a glint of evil in his eyes as the cart creaked passed. She met his glare, narrowing her eyes and flicking her tail once aggressively. The man turned his gaze away from her, apparently thinking better of whatever lecherous ideas had been forming in the toxic pit of his mind. She continued walking, careful to scan the roofs, and every alley for potential danger, completely in Bat Team Alpha mode now, as if a switch had been thrown inside of her. She was surprised at how quickly it had all come back to her. That even after twenty years, she could instantly switch to combat mode like this. Every muscle in her body was ready, waiting for the command. She was a coiled mamba, ready to strike without warning. Swift as a bolt of lightning, and just as lethal. Other ox drawn carts rattled passed. There were few motorized vehicles on the street. The few cars that did exist were older Soviet models; mostly Yugos from the old Eastern Bloc. Deep wagon wheel ruts in the road left little doubt that most goods here were moved by ox cart. Occasionally, a man on a motorbike buzzed passed, casting her an odd glance and kicking up dust.
She swiveled her ears towards the left at the sound of footsteps at the same time her eyes caught a young boy jogging towards her. Instinctively, she tensed, ready to strike, even though it was just a child.
“Salom! Sahiba! Salom!” he called out to her, slowing down when he was alongside of her and then pacing her, his head turned to look at her. She let some of the tension out of her muscles and her mind, replacing it with pure annoyance at the hairless young ape walking next to her. He wore a stupid grin on his face. Like some kind of mime or clown.
“Salom,” the boy called out again, although this time his voice had more of a questioning note in it. His grin changed to a slight frown, and he lowered his eyes slightly, a dejected look on his face as she continued to ignore him.
“Equestrian, Sahiba?”
“Yes,” she said with a slight nod. Equestrian was the only word he had said so far that she recognized. Several bearded men, and a few women dressed in plain gray dress-like coverings that went all the way down to their feet were standing in front of the buildings, watching her as if she were some roadside circus attraction come to town. She wasn’t sure if they were afraid of her, disgusted by her, or just curious about her. A man laughed, then made a comment to the man next to him. No doubt, the comment was less than wholesome. The boy walking next to her was wearing that stupid grin again.
“Equestria. Celestia. Luna, Sahiba?”
She raised an eyebrow slightly, surprised and somewhat impressed that he knew anything at all about her homeland, even if all he knew was the names of the two rulers. Although, she wasn’t sure what he was trying to get at. Maybe he was just trying to prove that he wasn’t as dumb as his stupid grin suggested he was.
She shook her head once. “Crystal Empire.”
“Ah. Crystal Empire. Princess Cadance? Prince Shining Armor?”
She nodded. “Yes, Princess Cadance and Prince Shining Armor.” Okay. Maybe the kid was a bit more educated than she’d given him credit for.
Four uniformed American soldiers with automatic rifles approached from the other side of the street. Ice bristled and laid her ears back in anger. Memories of the war came flooding back to her as if a dam had burst. She forced her ears to stand straight again. She definitely couldn’t afford to attract unwanted attention. And besides, she was going to have to get used to it. If she was going to find out the truth of what had happened here with the friendly militia commander, then she was going to have to find some way to get the American soldiers to talk to her. And not only would they have to talk to her, but they would have to trust her enough to share information with her that it was clear someone far above them didn’t want her to know. The four American soldiers looked at her briefly with expressions of curiosity and surprise, but then three of them turned their gazes forward again. The fourth one kept his attention on her just a little bit longer. Just enough to make him stand out from the rest in her mind. She quickly memorized his facial features. Early twenties, brown eyes, short sandy hair visible under his cap. Rank, sergeant, last name, Duncan according to the name tag on his desert camo. The stale smell of cigarette smoke emanated from his clothing. The soldiers passed without incident, and she kept her attention on them without turning her head, able to see them with her wide peripheral vision long after they had passed behind her.
“Americans won’t bother you, Sahiba,” the boy said, apparently having seen her brief but tense reaction when the soldiers had approached. “They just come here to shop. Buy tambaaku mostly.”
So the kid spoke a little bit of English did he? Maybe he could be useful to her after all.
“You like Americans?” she asked, turning her head towards him for the first time and looking him over a bit. He was twelve, maybe thirteen years old. The hair under his cap was a chocolate brown color. His skin had a dark tan complexion, the color of tea. Probably from long hours spent working out in the sun. In cut and length, his clothing was similar to the men she had seen, although his were more colorful. Red and gold diamond cut designs were embroidered on his white top along the neckline and flowing down the chest area. Instead of a turban, he wore a short red and gold brimless cap over his head. Perhaps the more vibrant colors of his attire indicated his family had some status in the community? Or they were wealthy? Or perhaps it was just that children wore more colorful clothes than adults. The boy shrugged in response to her question.
“They spend money. Helps the keléy and my baabaa’s inn. You need inn, Sahiba?”
“Yes, I need an inn.” Baabaa probably meant father she decided. She had known she was going to need a place to stay in the village. At least that problem was solved. The kid had proven useful after all, in more ways than one. The American soldiers all had camps and tents that they stayed in. So why would they be spending money at an inn? They probably rented the rooms on an hourly basis for the purposes of sex with local prostitutes. That information could also prove useful later on.
“I take you there,” the kid said, speeding up his pace momentarily until he was slightly ahead of her.
“Thank you.” He lead her down the street. Another cart approached then, pulled by a single brown ox. The two men seated on the cart’s bench looked at her as they passed by. One of them said something to his companion that she had no hope of understanding. Then, both of them broke out in rude laughter. The corner of the boy’s mouth twisted into a scowl, but he said nothing and continued walking.
“What did he say?” she asked the boy. His scowl deepened.
“He said ….” The kid paused for a long moment, as if trying to find an exact translation. Or more likely, trying to find a way to repeat it in a way that wasn’t quite as obscene and offensive as whatever the man had actually said.
“He said I was much too young for you, Sahiba.”
She nodded, a scowl to match the kid’s forming on her own muzzle. A visual formed in her mind of the man flying off the front of his cart and getting trampled by the hooves of his own ox. It made her smile.
The kid turned a corner, leading her down a narrower street that didn’t appear wide enough for a cart to fit through. Again, the rotten smell of refuse permeated the air, assaulting her nose and making her wrinkle her nostrils. The boy didn’t seem to notice.
A short while later, they emerged onto a busy street near the taller buildings she had seen before entering the village. Women clad in long gray robes with matching scarves covering their heads bustled about. Carts lined the street and vendors with stalls sold goods ranging from cotton cloth to vegetables to DVDs and small electronic objects such as watches and desk clocks. No one here paid any attention to her at all, seemingly engrossed completely in buying and selling. The bazaar began to thin out as the boy lead her further down the street towards one of the three-story buildings. A weathered wooden sign on the front of the building said something in Persian script. Near the building, several young children, probably no more than five or six years old, both male and female, played some street game involving a small ball and two interlinked circles drawn in the dusty road. Like the boy, all of them were dressed in more colorful clothing than the adults.
Upon seeing her, the children immediately abandoned their game and rushed over to her, talking excitedly in words she couldn’t understand. Within seconds they had surrounded her, and she had to stop to avoid knocking them down and trampling on them. Little hands reached out, touching her, feeling her fur from all sides. Smiles lit up the faces of the children as if they’d just been given their favorite candy. Her heart pounded inside of her. Why were all these human children touching her? It was intolerable! The rest of the world became a blur, and all she saw were young human faces, their hands touching her, petting her, stroking her as if she were some kind of dog. They seemed to spin around her, their hands reaching for her, as if she were standing at the center of some kind of insane carousel with children instead of plastic horses dancing around her. A strong urge to rear up and bolt, or to kick out with her hind legs overpowered her. She forced the urge down. Her hooves would easily kill any of small children that they struck. Like an echoing sound from the other end of a cave, the boy who had lead her here scolded the children.
“Darawem! Biáayem! Biáayem! Dzem! Dzem!”
With a dejected look on their faces and mumbles of disappointment, the circle of children that had surrounded her begin to break up and the world around Ice stopped spinning and came back into focus. Sounds that had seemed distant and echo-like moved closer to her again. The children returned to their game, although their enthusiasm for it was clearly gone. She looked at the boy who was leading her, her unasked question obvious in her eyes.
“Afwa ghwaram, Sahiba. They have never seen Equestrian before. To them you are like ….” he paused and searched for the right words again. “Hollywood movie star, you know?”
She nodded once, her anger towards the children melting like an ice cube in the sun as she realized their fawning attention on her was not because they considered her an animal. Like some dog to be stroked and pet. Rather, it was because they considered her someone special. As if she were Countess Coloratura or something. They had just wanted to get close enough to touch her. A certain soft spot began to form for the children. But another part of her mind warned her not to let the humans tenderize her. Not even the children. If they were softening her up, it was only to make it easier to hurt her later on. So they could smash their baseball bats and throw their rocks at soft yielding flesh instead of solid steel armor.
The wooden door to the building with the sign was open, and the boy lead her inside. A rough wooden counter stood in front of them. Behind the counter and to the left was a simple arched doorway covered with a cotton curtain that had once been white, but was now stained with years of dust and grease from dirty fingers. A fly buzzed around her and she swatted at it with her tail.
“Baabaa! Baabaa!” the boy shouted out.
There was a shuffling noise from behind the curtain, like someone dragging their feet. A few seconds later, the curtain parted, and a turban wearing man walked out slowly from behind it. His shirt and pants almost matched the color of the sand outside. This must be the boy’s baabaa, though the wrinkles that lined the old man’s face, the salt and pepper color of his beard, and the arthritic shuffle in his walk made Ice decide that baabaa probably meant grandfather instead of father. The man raised his eyebrows as he made his way to the counter with all the speed of a tortoise, then put his weathered hands on it as if he needed it for support.
“Equestrian? I don’t think I have ever seen an Equestrian around here,” the man said in fluent English with a heavy Pashto accent such that she had to listen closely to understand the words. The man and boy then conversed back and forth in their native language for a short time, the boy occasionally nodding at her. The fly landed on the counter. The old man picked up a fly swatter and slammed it down, flattening the fly with a loud smack. When he and the boy had finished talking, the old man returned his attention to her.
“You need a room then?”
“Yes. One that looks out over the street with the entrance, if possible.” She wanted to be able to watch the entrance to the inn to see what kind of people entered and left. Specifically, she wanted to watch for American soldiers entering with local women, and then note how long they stayed. She swatted another fly with her tail. The open door and blazing fireplace warming the inside of the building had drawn the pestering insects inside like a moth to a candle flame. The old man nodded.
“What brings you to our keléy?” he asked as he fumbled under the counter, pulling out a locked steel box and placing it on the surface.
“I’m a reporter for the Crystal Times. Doing a special report on the war here.”
The old man smiled slightly. “It is good to see our little keléy is attracting some attention there. I always thought Equestrians didn’t care much for the plight of humans.”
Whoever said I did care much for the plight of humans? she thought bitterly to herself as the old man fumbled with a small brass key, trying to open the lock on the box. Eventually, it turned with a click and he opened the lid. It was a money box, mostly consisting of U.S. dollars. More confirmation that his clientele was mostly American.
“The rate is fifteen dollars a night. Five dollars if you just want the room for an hour or two.”
She nodded and used her mouth to open the outside pouch of her saddlebag, pulling out a ten and a five in U.S. currency and placing it on the counter. The fact that the man rented the rooms on an hourly basis confirmed her suspicions about why the American soldiers spent money at the inn. The thought of staying in a room where two humans had been doing that together repulsed her as much as the constant smell of trash oozing in from outside of the building. But given the size of the village, she suspected this was probably the only inn there was.
“Thank you, Sahiba,” the man said as he took the money, placed it in the box, and closed and relocked the lid before sliding it under the counter again.
“Omid!” The man called out. She assumed that must be the name of the boy.
“Follow me, Sahiba. I can take one of your bags?”
“I can handle them, thank you,” Ice responded. Not that she had any objections at all to using the human boy as a pack mule. Just that she strongly suspected he wouldn’t be able to carry one of the heavy bags. The boy shrugged and lead her up one flight of stairs to the second floor.
“I’d like the room at the end of the hall, please.” That would give her the most warning, and the most time to react if someone should come up the stairs. Omid looked at her and shook his head with a shrug.
“Last room,” she said, nodding to the last door on the left side of the hallway.
“Ah, yes, Sahiba.”
The boy lead her to the end of the hallway. He opened the last door on the left side and motioned her in. She stepped in to find a sparsely furnished room with peeling plaster on the walls and a scuffed wooden floor that obviously hadn’t been buffed in years. A single double-wide cot with a well worn mattress was pushed up against one wall. A mosquito net hung from the ceiling above it, currently rolled up and tied off. A window on the wall opposite the door stood open and had no screen in it, letting a cold breeze, flies, biting insects, and the smell of trash from the streets into the room. It had no glass in it. Just wooden shutters to keep out the rain. Under the window, pushed up against the wall, a scratched wooden table sat with two unmatched wooden chairs that looked like they’d probably been scavenged from a street corner. There was a dented tin pitcher and basin on the table, but no bathroom or faucet to be seen anywhere. The putrid scent of kerosene and the black streaks lining the walls suggested the electricity wasn’t reliable and that kerosene lamps were sometimes used to light the room. Probably, the inn did not have running water. She looked at the door and frowned. It didn’t have a lock on it. She was even more relieved that she’d chosen the last room in the hallway.
“It is good, Sahiba?”
“It’s fine,” she said, ignoring the lack of a lock on the door and the sickening smell of refuse wafting through the window.
The boy went to the table, picking up the pitcher and then stepped outside the room again.
“Well is outside. I bring you fresh water.”
“Thank you,” she nodded as the boy left down the hallway. His footsteps were muffled, but easily detected by her sensitive equine hearing. Yes, she’d be able to hear anyone coming up the stairs as soon as they hit the first step, even if she were sound asleep. Her Bat Team Alpha training had taught her to sleep lightly. At least the noise of the old wood would compensate for the lack of a lock on the door.
As she waited for the boy to return, she slung her saddlebags off her shoulders and onto the bed, the springs making a tortured grind of protest as the weight was carelessly thrown onto them. The mattress sagged in the middle so that it resembled a canoe with both ends upturned. She would have preferred better accommodations, but she was former Bat Team Alpha. She’d lived in conditions much worse than this. And besides, it was only a for a few days. A tinge of sympathy for the boy tried to infiltrate her mind as she considered the fact that he lived like this every day, and would continue to live like this long after she was back in her comfortable apartment in Crystal City. The boy seemed happy enough, though, and hadn’t complained at all. Either he wasn’t aware of how bad the living conditions were here, or he just accepted it with a serenity that could only come from someone who had suffered so long that they believed it was their lot in life to suffer.
A couple of minutes later, she swiveled her ears forward. The sound of his feet hit the first step, climbed the rest of them, and then walked down the hallway, the old floor boards groaning in quiet protest. It would be virtually impossible for anyone to approach her room without he hearing them. Not that she expected visitors, but her old Bat Team Alpha training was in full gear now. She was in the human world again, and she had to be hyper-vigilant. The boy entered her room a few seconds later and set the pitcher down on the table before stepping out and turning to face her.
“You need anything else, you let me know, Sahiba.”
“Where can I find the American soldiers?”
“Cafe. One block down. They go there.” He raised his arm and pointed in the direction of the cafe.
She fished around in her saddlebag, coming up with a few U.S. dollars and a couple of gold Equestrian bits, that she took over to him, His eyes brightened as he looked them over. He seemed far more interested in the Equestrian bits than the U.S. dollars, as if they were a novelty he had never seen before. They were probably worthless as currency here since no one would have any idea what they were worth in relation to local currency. Still, that stupid grin on the boy’s face again told that he clearly liked them as he turned them over and over in his hands, looking at the images of Princess Celestia on one side, her solar cutie mark on the other. He looked at the other coin, which was embossed with Princess Luna and her cutie mark … Okay, maybe the boy’s grin didn’t look so stupid anymore. Just excited and appreciative.
“Thank you Sahiba!” the boy said with an excited tone. He bowed to her at the waist before turning and skipping down the hall and down the stairs with all the quietness of a marching army, calling out to his grandfather to show him the prize she’d given him. Ice allowed herself a small smile before closing the door.
She went over to the window now, pushing one of the chairs out of the way and sitting down on her haunches near the table as she watched the street below. The smell of mildew and mold from the floor underneath the window mingled with the ever-present smell of garbage coming through the window. The lengthening shadows of the people and carts going by told her that the Sun was getting lower on the horizon. For the most part, it was locals traveling the streets below. Men and women going to and from the bazaar, buying and selling. Occasionally, children would run passed the window, laughing and playing tag or some other such game. As the shadows continued to lengthen and the light continued to fail, American soldiers began to mix with the locals. Probably heading towards the cafe the boy had told her about. The vendors at the bazaar began to pack their unsold wares into their carts and head home, the traffic thinning out rapidly as the market closed. Two more American soldiers passed by underneath the window, talking amongst themselves. They were being careless, never once looking up. Was it complacency because they had walked this street on a weekly or nightly basis and not been attacked yet? The dark thought occurred to her that she could leap out the window onto them and break both of their necks before either one of them had the slightest clue what had hit them. All of the Americans were going in the same direction, towards the cafe that the boy had mentioned. So far, none of the Americans had been with any local women, and none of them had entered the inn. But that probably wouldn’t happen until well after dark.
She stepped away from the window and over to the bed, a plan forming in her mind as she opened the saddlebags and begin to fish through the clothes she had brought with her. All of the women she had seen so far had been dressed conservatively and had been wearing scarves covering their heads. She decided it would be best to follow their example. She scanned over her clothes. Her entire wardrobe was as plain as an empty piece of paper, but she was looking for the plainest of the plain. She also looked for pieces that appeared old and well worn. It would serve her plan best if she looked like she were a bit down on her luck. She picked out a stone gray saddle pad, tossing it over her back and adjusting it to make sure it covered her wing joints and her sides where her wings would have normally shown. Then, she pulled out a matching scarf, wrapping it over her head and tucking her midnight-blue mane inside of it.
She went to the window again, looking down at the street. The shadows had almost disappeared now as the Sun dropped below the horizon and only the ambient light of the ever-darkening sky lit the ground. She took off her sunglasses. She wouldn’t need them anymore. Then, she stepped outside her room, closed the door, and made her way down the squeaking staircase and outside into the chill evening. She waited for a group of four American soldiers to pass her. They looked at her curiously, but other than that, did nothing to harass her. When they were a short distance ahead of her, she stepped out into the street and followed them.
IX
Ice stopped as the four American soldiers entered the cafe Omid had told her about. The building itself was an unimpressive single-story square with plaster walls and a sagging, rusty tin roof. Dim, hazy light flooded out of the open door, illuminating the street in front of it, and the skunky stench of stale beer and cigarette smoke wrapped around her nostrils and curled inside of them. The sounds of loud American alternative rock music pumped from inside. Clearly, the cafe was catering towards foreign soldiers rather than local clients. Then again, the majority of the locals were probably too poor to frequent cafes. She took a deep breath, feeling like she was about ready to walk into a nest of rats, then continued towards the cafe, reaching the door and stepping through it.
Inside, the angry sounding rock music blasted like rocket propelled grenades from the large speakers. How could any of the soldiers even hear each other talk over that? A quick glance at the flags on their uniforms told her that most of them were American. The few patrons who weren’t in uniform were likely civilian contractors working for the military. The interior of the building itself was remarkably plain. No pictures or posters adorned the plaster walls. They looked to have once been white, but years of cigarette smoke stained them a sickly yellow color. The tables scattered throughout the room had been arranged carelessly, with no particular symmetry in mind. It seemed fitting then, that no two tables were alike in height, width, or decor. Some were square, others were round, some were constructed from wood, others plastic, others metal. It was obvious they’d been scavenged from various sources and that aesthetics was not a primary concern here. Most of the tables were occupied by groups of American soldiers, drinking mugs of beer and talking. A card game was going at one table. They were playing for real money. The loud roar of conversation competed with the blaring, grinding guitars flying from the speakers that were mounted high on the walls, making it impossible to pick out any single conversation through the battle of competing sounds.
The room was dimly lit by exposed light bulbs hanging from cords that were attached to the rafters of the ceiling. Moths swirled and danced around the bulbs, and a haze of cigarette smoke floated lazily in the light like smoke over a battlefield. On one wall, an electronic insect zapper tried and failed to repel the invasion of buzzing flies that were no doubt attracted to the gallons of beer that had likely been spilled in this building over time. On the far end of the room stood a crudely constructed plywood bar with American soldiers seated at it. The wood on the countertop looked like it had never been sanded and would be a good place to pick up splinters.
She continued to scan the room. Her eyes stopped on one soldier. Early twenties, brown eyes, short sandy hair completely visible now that he wasn’t wearing his cap. She glanced at his name tag. Duncan, the soldier who had seemed interested in her earlier. He’d noticed her enter and was eyeing her. But as soon as her gaze was on him, he turned his attention to the other Marines sitting at his table and began talking with them. It was impossible to hear what they were saying over the pounding bass of the speakers. Asshole is probably tired of the local prostitutes and wants an experience that’s a bit more exotic. She turned her attention away from him and walked up to the bar, rose up on her hind legs, placed her forehooves on the rough, splintered top. A bearded bartender eyed her suspiciously as he wiped down glasses. His olive complexion indicated he was a local, and he wore a turban like the other locals, but his clothes were western. Blue jeans and a black Harley Davidson t-shirt. A large, silver-plated belt buckle sporting the Stars and Bars adorned his waist. Did he had any idea of the history that went along with that flag? Nothing like selling your soul to make a buck. The crude thought occurred to her that with the sunlight reflecting on that giant belt buckle, she could have shot him in the groin with a Hellfire cannon from a thousand yards away if she aimed a couple of inches below the buckle. Already, she disliked this man. But then again, she disliked all humans except for Dolphin, who she didn’t have to think of as a human. Okay, maybe she could tolerate the boy from the inn too. He seemed nice enough. The bartender continued to watch her and wipe down his glasses, making no move to approach her. She narrowed her eyes and flicked her tail once.
“So are you gonna give me service? Or am I not welcome here because I’m not human?” she spat at him.
“I’ll give you service, honey,” a uniformed man sitting to her right said in a slurred voice, almost knocking his beer over as he reached out with his arm and placed his hand on top of her foreleg.
“Take your hand off of me before I break your arm,” she warned, shooting daggers at the soldier with her eyes and curling her lips up, revealing the full extent of her razor-sharp fangs.
The drunk soldier yanked his hand back as if she had bitten him. Then he picked up his mug, sloshing some of the piss-yellow American beer out on the countertop as he stood up.
“Fuck you, bitch,” he slurred, starggering his way to the other end of the bar.
She watched him teeter away for a moment, cursing her quick anger, Had she had just blown an opportunity by threatening him? She decided she probably hadn’t. He was too drunk to have been of any use to her anyway. She turned her attention to the bartender who was finally standing in front of her.
“I don’t care what you are,” the man said in near perfect English. “Human, pony, griffon, giant walking rat. Makes no difference to me as long as you pay your bar tab. Just wondering why a pony would want to come here. That’s all.”
A sudden crashing noise from the right caused her to turn her head. The soldier who had hit on her had fallen off his new stool and was lying sprawled on the floor like a man dead. Unfortunately, he wasn’t.
Hope you feel it tomorrow, asshole, she mumbled under her breath as she returned her attention to the bartender. “Sparkling water with lemon.”
He waited for a moment longer, then frowned when he finally accepted she wasn’t going to tell him why she had come here. He turned and went to get the drink she’d requested. A few seconds later, he brought it back to her, set it on the counter, and quickly walked away to serve another customer.
I can’t imagine why a pony would want to come here either. It’s not like she had wanted to come here. It was just the only way she could think of to get the information she needed on her case. She tensed slightly as the American soldier seated on her left side slid a little closer to her, leaning towards her ear.
“Can I uh … give you a piece of advice, ma’am?” Well, at least this one wasn’t drunk, and was making an effort to be respectful and civil.
“Depends on what it is,” she said without looking at him.
“I don’t mean to sound … well, like I’m suggesting females can’t take care of themselves. But it’s not safe for females to wander around here alone.”
“So I noticed,” she said with venom in her voice as she glanced down at the drunk soldier who had hit on her. Some of his friends had helped him back up onto his stool. They’d be better off taking him to a table. Sitting him in a chair with a back on it to prevent him from falling over backwards. And if he did fall again, the chair would be a lot closer to the ground than the stool.
“Not cause of soldiers like him, ma’am. There’s a few like him, but he’s harmless. Tucker just gets a little too flirty and forward when he’s had too much to drink. The men are just a little pent up and sometimes get a little crude with their talk … But the locals … Well, some of them treat females as property around here.”
“Is that so?” she said, raising an eyebrow. Perhaps this one had potential. At least he seemed more willing to talk. “What about the local police?”
“They usually don’t do anything about it. It’s kind of local culture for females to be treated that way. I’m just sayin’ be careful.”
“Thank you for your concern.” She thought for a moment, then turned and looked at the soldier. “If … that were to happen to me … would one of you come to my aid if you saw it happening? Or if you wouldn’t because I’m a pony … would you if I were a human?” It was difficult, but she did her best to play up the illusion of being a stereotypical damsel in distress who needs a man to come save her.
The soldier averted his eyes downward and lowered his head, almost as if he were ashamed. Like he held some dark secret he wanted to reveal to her, but could not.
“All’s I’m saying is please be careful, ma’am. There’s a reason guys like Tucker drink too much,” he mumbled. Then, he stood up and started to walk away.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she called after him. But he ignored her and just walked over to a table where he began conversing with other soldiers.
Now that was definitely interesting. His avoidance of her question about whether any of the soldiers would come to her aid or not was more than intriguing. She wanted to go talk to him. To ask him the question again, but she resisted the urge. She couldn’t afford to be seen as prying. If she pressed the issue, he would start to suspect she was some kind of undercover agent from Equestria trying to get information. And if that rumor spread, the odds that any of them would be willing to talk to her would drop to damn near zero. No, she couldn’t take the initiative here. She had to let them come to her. She had to let them decide if they wanted to talk to her, and if so, what they wanted to say.
For the next hour, she sipped her sparkling water. Once in a while, a soldier would glance at her, but no more approached her. Occasionally, she looked over at Duncan and would catch his eyes on her. But then he would turn back to the other soldiers at his table and start talking again. Part of her wanted to go over and talk to him. But she knew she had to let him come to her. She got a refill from the bartender and briefly considered asking him if he knew any information. She decided against it. He was probably loyal to his regular customers. If some pony started prying him for information, he’d probably rat her out. The effect on her chances of getting any of them to talk to her would be the same as if she’d pressed one of the soldiers themselves.
Another hour passed. Frustration started to bubble up inside of her like a tea kettle starting to boil. Duncan still occasionally glanced at her, but made no move to come over to her. If she got up and left, would he follow her? She doubted it. It would attract too much attention. Either way, she was about to get up and leave. This plan was a bust. She reached into her saddlebag, pulling out some American dollars and paying the bartender, as well as leaving him a tip. She started to stand up, then stopped. Another American soldier was standing up from a table and walking towards her. He halted, turned back towards the table like he was having second thoughts, but gestures from his friends urged him to turn around and start walking towards her again. She frowned into her glass as she took another sip. This was almost certainly going to be a bust. It was clear his friends had put him up to it as some kind of dare or challenge, just to see if he was man enough to do it. She rolled her eyes as he sat down next to her, looking at her for a moment before leaning in a bit closer.
“So … you got a stallion back home?”
Really? That was the best pickup line he had to lead off with? Well, she might as well play along for a few minutes, just in case he proved useful. It’s not like any more promising fish had taken the bait so far.
“No,” she answered.
“Sometimes it … gets a little lonely here. Away from the women back home and all.”
Oh spare me, she thought to herself, but instead said, “How long have you been over here?”
“A day shy of eleven months. I count each day.”
“It must be hard. Being away from home that long,” she said, sipping her sparkling water and not looking at him.
“It is … So … so how much for an hour with you?”
“Probably more than you have, soldier,” she said. The truth was, she had no intention of letting any of them get in bed with her. But giving the impression that she did would be a way to attract attention and start conversations. At least, that’s what she had hoped when she’d learned what some of the soldiers used the inn for. So far, it had only netted her two fish, and she had had to throw both of them back. The plan wasn’t working nearly as well as she’d hoped it would.
“I can get one of the local women for cheap.”
“Then go get one of the local women. I don’t come cheap, soldier. When was the last time you saw a thestral around here? You think you’ll ever see another one? This is a once in a lifetime chance for something truly exotic. So pay up if you want it. Five hundred U.S. dollars.” That was probably a safe amount. There was almost no chance he had that much cash on him.
“That’s insane. I can get one of the locals for a Hamilton.”
“Like I said, get one of the locals then. Five Franklins if you want me. Take it or leave it.”
Anger creased his face as he got up and turned away from her. No doubt, he’d just lost a bet with his friends and it was going to end up costing him some money, even though he wouldn’t get any satisfaction out of it. He turned back to her for a moment.
“Maybe if you were a real thestral you’d be worth it. I didn’t want to fuck a wingless mutant bat pony anyway,” he spat before turning and starting to walk away again.
Ice lost it. Anger exploded inside of her. A volcano blowing its top and spewing fire high into the sky. She tensed her hind legs, preparing to spring on him. She’d show him just how dangerous a former member of Bat Team Alpha could be even if she didn’t have any wings. He was lonely here and wanted to go back home? She’d give him his wish. She’d give him a free trip to a military hospital back in the States, followed by a medical discharge. She bared her fangs and was just about to spring off her hind legs and attack when an arm reached around her from behind, a hand resting on her chest.
She cursed herself. She’d lost situational awareness, oblivious to the fact that someone had come up behind her when she’d lost her temper with the soldier who had insulted her. Instinctively, her Bat Team Alpha training kicked in and she shifted her focus of attack to the more immediate threat. She was about to spring into action against the man behind her when he spoke, giving her pause.
“You look like you’re a bit down on your luck and could use some help,” he said not unkindly. He spread the fingers of his hand that was resting on her chest slightly. American money peaked out from between his fingers, folded so it would fit under his hand and no one would be able to see he was holding it.
She shifted her eyes, glancing behind her without turning her head. It was Duncan, the one she’d been hoping would approach her all night. She reached a foreleg up to her chest, placing her hoof over the top of his hand. He pulled his hand away, but intentionally left the money underneath her hoof. She slid her hoof down her chest, taking the money with it and discretely slipping it into the small saddlebag she was wearing. She gave no reaction or acknowledgment of him at all. He backed up, turned around and went back to his friends, sitting down and resuming his conversation.
Ice stood up, turned and trotted out of the cafe putting on an intentional show of storming out in a huff to make sure her anger over the way she had been treated was known. Yes, she was angry at the way two of the soldiers had treated her, but normally she wouldn’t have shown it. The show was mainly for Duncan’s benefit, so that his fellow soldiers would think he had failed to gain her favor just as all the others had.
When she was outside, she trotted quickly back to the inn, up the stairs, and into her room. She pulled the door shut, then used her mouth to reach into her saddlebag and retrieve the money Duncan had given her. She placed the two five dollar bills on the bed. There was nothing at all remarkable about them on the Abraham Lincoln side. She used a forehoof to turn them over. One bill had writing across the top of it:
23:15 Bahram’s Coffee
There was Persian script following the English words. It must be the Persian characters she’d see on the sign of the building. She looked at the other five dollar bill. It had a crudely drawn map starting from the cafe she’d just left and ending with a star a couple of streets over. She smiled, but didn’t allow herself to get too hopeful. After her experiences with the two other soldiers, she wouldn’t be surprised if Duncan just wanted erotic, kinky sex with a thestral and had been too shy or embarrassed to ask for it in front of any other soldiers. But this was the best catch she’d had all night. If this one wasn’t a keeper, she didn’t know what she’d try next. The dark part of her mind suggested kidnapping and torture, but the rational part of her mind knew that was completely out of the question. That and some part of her moral fabric rebelled at the thought of doing that. Even to a human. She looked at the watch she wore around her left forehoof. 22:05. Just fifty more minutes, and she’d find out of this trip had paid off.
X
Ice left her room at the inn ten minutes before Duncan’s note had said to meet him at Bahram’s Coffee. The cold air tried to get under her fur and nip at her skin as she walked down the street. The infernal rock music renewed its attack on her ears again as she neared the entrance to the cafe. She glanced through the door as she passed the entrance. It was even busier than it had been before. Standing room only now. The loud music seemed to be losing the battle now that reinforcements had arrived, starting to be drowned out by the drone of mixed conversation. How safe could it be for so many American soldiers to gather in such a confined area? Seemed like a perfect opportunity for a suicide bomber.
She continued passed the cafe, turning down the side street that Duncan had indicated on his crudely drawn map on the back of the five dollar bill. The rowdy sounds from the cafe grew distant until there only the thumping bass of the loudspeakers. Unfortunately, the stink of trash and human waste grew even worse. The buildings continued to become more rundown as she walked. To the left, a plaster building lie crumbled where most of one window had caved in. Fewer people were out and about on the streets in this part of town, and none of them were American soldiers. All of them were locals, almost exclusively men.. She tensed, ready to spring into action, remembering the warning the American soldier at the cafe had given her about females walking alone. Butterflies danced in her stomach. Like that feeling of knowing that someone is following you. Was Duncan leading her into some type of trap?
She turned down a narrow alley, the stink of trash getting even worse here. Bags of refuse lined the street, most of them having been torn open and picked through by animals. A startled corsac fox jumped off one of the piles and gave her an annoyed look before darting down the alley in front of her, leaping up onto a crumbling building, and disappearing through the window.
Dim light spilled out of an open doorway and onto the narrow street from a building far ahead of her on the left. As she approached closer, the faint sounds of music poured out of the front door. But it wasn’t the grinding guitars of rock music like had been coming from the cafe. This was a softer, quieter music with a Persian melody, played on dairas, tulas, tamburs, and dhambouras. A sign above the door of the building matched the Persian script on Duncan’s note. She reached the doorway of the mud-brick building and stepped inside.
Despite the shoddy appearance of the building, the room she was in now was much cleaner than the room of the cafe she had been in earlier. There were no loudspeakers here, the music emanating from a small portable radio sitting behind the counter. A man dressed in traditional white Afghan clothing like the other locals had been wearing stood behind the bar, a long black beard hanging to his chest. His clothes were clean, and he wore a white turban on his head. The smell of smoke was prevalent in the room, but it was not the stale stench of cigarette smoke that had wafted through the cafe. It was a sweeter smell of the flavored tobacco typically smoked in a hookah. The only other prevalent smell in the room was the smell of strong coffee. There was no stale beer smell here as there had been in the cafe. The man behind the counter nodded at her once, but said nothing. She nodded back to him.
There were few tables in the room, but all of them except the one in the corner furthest away from the counter were empty. A lone American soldier sat at that one, sipping a cup of coffee. If he had seen her walk in, he was pretending not to have. His clothes smelled of stale cigarette smoke (Marlboros if her nose wasn’t lying to her). She walked over to the table. He gave no indication he noticed.
“Duncan?” she said quietly. He nodded once.
She pushed the chair out of the way and sat on her haunches across from him. His scent was nervousness mixed with fear. But she didn’t think it was fear of her. And there was something else mixed with his scent that she couldn’t quite identify. Was it shame? After a few seconds of him saying nothing to her, she spoke again.
“So what was that back at the cafe? A down payment? You want sex?” she asked him. His demeanor and the mixed messages coming from his scent put her on edge.
“No. I just want to talk,” he responded quietly, meeting her gaze for the first time. The look in his eyes matched his smell like a twin sibling. He was quiet for a few moments, but she said nothing. It would probably be best to let him get the conversation started. He spoke again in a hesitant voice.
“So what are you? Equestrian intelligence or something?”
“Crystal Empire Department of International Justice Affairs … And former commander in Bat Team Alpha.” She added the last part as safety insurance. As if warning him that she had a loaded gun in her saddlebag, although her loaded gun was her bare hooves and jaws.
He nodded slightly. “So you’re one of those ponies who can kill me five times over in five different ways before I even hit the ground?” Ice had to stop herself from rolling her eyes.
“Yes, if I wanted to … Or if I had to.” She narrowed her eyes at him.
“Hey, like I said, I just want to talk,” he said, spreading his hands in front of himself defensively.
Ice nodded once. Without turning her head, she made a motion with her eyes towards the man behind the counter.
“Don’t worry about him,” Duncan responded. “He doesn’t speak a word of English. And even if he did, he wouldn’t tell anyone.”
“And what if other American soldiers show up?”
“They almost never come here. And if they do, it won’t be until after the cafe closes and they want to try to chase away their hangover.” He reached into the left breast pocket of his desert camo shirt, pulling out a box of Marlboro Reds. “Cigarette?”
“Those things’ll kill you.”
“This shit hole will probably kill me first. You mind?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her. She waved a forehoof slightly in consent. He shook one of the cigarettes from the package, pulled a Zippo from his other pocket, lighting the cigarette and taking a deep puff from it, the orange front glowing brightly. He held the smoke for a few moments, then looked up towards the ceiling and blew it out. At least he was courteous enough not to blow it in her face. He seemed to relax slightly as the nicotine worked its poisonous chemical magic on his mind. He spoke again, in a slightly more relaxed and conversational tone.
“So is it true that if you bite me, I’ll turn into one of you?”
She did roll her eyes this time, impatience threatening to snap within her like a rubber band being stretched to its limits.
“I don’t know. Why don’t you give me your neck and we’ll find out together,” she responded, a strong hint of danger in her voice. She focused on the human with a predatory gaze, baring her fangs and leaning over the table, moving closer to him.
“Hey, I was just trying to make small talk.” He leaned backwards from her, frowning and looking as if she’d cut him emotionally with her fangs.
“By repeating stereotypes and making speciesist jokes?” she asked with anger, but closed her mouth again and leaned back away from him.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, taking another strong drag off the cigarette and blowing the smoke into the air. Trying to make small talk? Not likely. He was stalling. Trying to avoid bringing up whatever it was he had asked her here to talk about. He sniffed once, took a deep breath, let it out, then shifted his body language slightly to one of a bit more confidence, as if he had finally resolved to do what he’d come here for.
“So you’re the one holding our guys in the Crystal Empire? You here about that militia commander?”
“Yes on both questions.”
He nodded almost imperceptibly. “Can’t say I’m sad he’s dead. None of the guys liked Qadir.”
“Not liking someone is not a sufficient reason for killing them.” She remembered the two human soldiers who had walked underneath her window at the inn, and how the thought had entered her mind that she could have broken both their necks before they even knew what had happened, all because she didn’t like them because they were human. But thinking about killing someone because you don’t like them and actually acting on those thoughts were hardly the same thing.
“You’re right, it’s not. But people really didn’t like this guy … He uh … had a propensity towards the young, you know what I mean?”
“No, I don’t know you what you mean.” She perked her ears towards him. He leaned across the table a bit, moving closer to her.
“I mean he couldn’t keep his dick out of the boys and girls.”
A brief feeling of shock and disgust shot through Ice, and her stomach felt like it had been hit by a cannon ball. It took her a moment to recover enough to answer.
“And did any of you ever report this to the local police?”
“Of course. Lots of times. But nothing was ever done about it.”
“Then the police investigation must not have found the evidence to support the accusations.”
“Pfft. Are you kidding? At best, they get a slap on the wrist. At worst, the cops completely cover it up. There was a twelve year old girl who got raped by the local police chief here. He got sent to jail for less than a day. And after he got out? They forced the girl to marry him. And he’s still the police chief. It’s accepted culture around here.”
A feeling of disgust rose up in Ice again. Someone could do that to a child? And no one cared? Then again, they were humans. It probably shouldn’t surprise her that humans were capable of acting this way towards each other. But anyway, none of this helped her. None of it implicated the militia commander – or Qadir, she could call him now that she had a name to place with the dead body – in any wrongdoing.
“That may be, but it says nothing about the militia commander himself. According to the evidence we were sent, he has an impeccable service record.” Duncan took another puff on his cigarette while she was talking, blew the smoke into the air before responding.
“Of course he does. The militia commanders own the police. The militias and the police are basically the same thing. Any negative reports against him probably went right in the trash incinerator as soon as the soldier filing them walked out the door. This kind of stuff happens all the time around here. Sometimes guys hear the children screaming.”
“Is that why Qadir was killed?”
“I don’t know. And I don’t know who killed him. But I heard a rumor that one of our guys caught the bastard in the act of raping a young boy and killed him to save the child.”
“And it the local police did nothing, did any American soldiers ever report any of this to their superiors?”
“Lots of times. But they were told not to interfere. To look the other way because it’s the culture around here.”
“Then I’ll talk to the officers and get confirmation that soldiers actually did complain about this behavior and nothing was done.”
The human took one last drag on his cigarette, then shook his head while crushing it out in the dented tin ashtray on the table. He blew the smoke into the air before responding.
“You can try, but they won’t talk. They’re too afraid of losing their command or getting court martialed.”
“Why would they lose their command or be court martialed? For trying to help children who are being routinely raped?”
“It’s not that simple. See, the friendly militia commanders and local militias support the U.S. mission here. And people far above our field commanders are concerned that if we do something about the child rapes, we’ll lose the support of the local militias. Or worse, they’ll start fighting against us. They’ll get the impression that we’re trying to force our own western culture on them. And it’s critical to our mission here that we not be seen as cultural imperialists. The Afghans have to know we’re not trying to force our own culture on them or they’ll turn against us.”
“Then I’ll get a subpoena and compel them to talk under oath on the grounds that they can offer material testimony of possible serious crimes.”
That was likely an empty threat. She just wanted to see how he would respond. Technically, she could subpoena the American commanders if she could get the names of those who had taken the reports. And if they failed to respond to the subpoena, she could issue an international arrest warrant. But in reality, it was unlikely Interpol would cooperate, given that neither the Crystal Empire or Equestria allowed Interpol to operate within their borders. That and both the Crystal Empire and Equestria had a long history of refusing to cooperate with Interpol.
“Except it’s not a crime here,” Duncan responded. “Against anything that resembles human decency? Yes. But the militia commanders make the law around here. And it’s not a crime. The U.S. Government wouldn’t comply with any subpoena you sent. They can’t be seen to do anything that would make it look like they are cooperating with your investigation. The local militia commanders would take it to mean they were trying to get their own guys off the hook for murder.”
A mixture of emotions battled inside of Ice. Mostly rage and frustration. This was all very enlightening, but it wasn’t actually getting her anywhere useful.
“Can you actually prove anything you’ve told me? Have you actually seen or heard any of it happening?”
“I haven’t personally seen it or heard it happen. I just got sent here a month ago. But guys talk about it happening all the time.”
Ice lowered her eyes and sighed, shaking her head.
“You don’t believe me?” Duncan asked.
“It doesn’t matter whether I believe you or not. For legal purposes, I need firsthoof accounts. If you haven’t seen or heard anything directly, than everything you are telling me is rumor and hearsay. I can’t use that in court. If there’s even a chance I’m gonna be able to get your guys out of a murder one charge, I at least need to establish reasonable belief that this really was a case of lethal force used to defend a child from serious harm.”
Duncan frowned and tapped another Marlboro out of his pack, lightning it up and inhaling deeply. He turned and looked at the door, blowing the smoke in that direction, appearing lost in thought.
The truth was, Ice didn’t know if she believed him or not. Even for humans, the tale just sounded a little too unbelievable. And Duncan was exhibiting a lot of the classic signs of lying. When she’d said she would contact the commanding officers to verify that reports were filed, he’d told her they wouldn’t talk. When she said she’d get an international subpoena to force them to talk, he’d told her the U.S. Government wouldn’t comply with it. Effectively, he’d told her a story that sounded very unlikely, and then admitted that everyone else except him would deny it, so there was no point even trying to ask them. Perhaps he was just a friend of the prisoners who was trying to get them out of trouble? Duncan took another sharp puff on his cigarette, blew the smoke towards the ceiling, and then turned back to her, a new resolve in his eyes as he spoke.
“I can get you the girl who was raped and forced to marry the police chief.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “If everything you’ve told me is true, she’ll be too terrified to talk.”
He nodded. “Yeah, she will be as long as she remains here. I can help you get her. But it’ll be your job to smuggle her out of here to a place where she’ll be safe.”
Ice thought about that for a moment. Duncan had a point. Assuming his story about the girl was true, she’d easily be able to get asylum for her in the Crystal Empire. There was no chance at all that Cadance would allow the girl to be sent back here. Once the girl was safe and could be convinced that she would stay safe and no one here would ever be able to hurt her again, maybe she’d be willing to talk. She nodded once to Duncan.
“Okay. Get her,” she said.
“I’ll need your help, though.”
“What?”
“You said you were former Bat Team Alpha.”
“Yes, but what’s that got to do with it?”
“We’re uh … gonna have to break into a compound to get her out. I can’t do it alone. I’ll need your help.”
“No. Out of the question,” she said without even giving the suggestion any thought.
“Why not? Together I know we can get in and get her out.”
“Because I’m not teaming up with a human. Especially not an American soldier on a military operation.”
“Is this because of what happened to you? A war injury from the Contact war?” He moved his eyes briefly to the clothing covering the part of her body where her wings should be.
“Yes.”
“You blame me for that? I wasn’t even there. I wasn’t even out of diapers yet. I don’t remember anything at all about that war.”
“You joined the military. That makes you violent by nature. You might as well have been there.”
“You joined the military too. Not only did you join the military, but you volunteered for Bat Team Alpha. You learned a couple dozen different ways to instantly kill someone with your bare hooves. What does that make you?”
“That’s different.”
“Why? Because I’m a human and you’re a pony?”
“Yes!”
“Well, I guess we all have our issues with stereotypes and speciesist ideas, don’t we ….”
“My answer is still no.” She stood up, turned and walked toward the door flicking her tail at him once. She stepped outside without a second look back, and started towards the inn.
Anger boiled inside her as she walked. She passed the cafe again, not even bothering to look inside. But this time, the rock music blaring from inside didn’t annoy her. Its angry-at-everything tone seemed to fit her mood. How dare Duncan presume to think she’d ever ally herself with a human soldier? It was out of the question. Allying herself with a human soldier would be treason of the highest form. A complete betrayal of ponykind. The only way she’d ever be in the same military operation as a human was if they were on opposing sides trying to kill each other. Besides, she was sure her assessment of Duncan had been correct. The fact that he was here along with the rest of the American soldiers proved it. This was yet another country they had simply decided to invade in their imperialistic ambitions, just like they had tried and failed to invade Equestria. Okay … that wasn’t entirely true. They had never actually tried to invade Equestria. The short war had been a territorial dispute over an unclaimed island after the two worlds had merged. The war had ended when both sides agreed to a ceasefire, and to designate the island as an international scientific preserve on which no commercial operations or mining of natural resources could take place. But there was no doubt that the Americans had full out invaded this country. That Duncan had participated proved he was naturally violent and imperialistic, just like all humans.
Equestria invaded the Crystal Empire, the small part of her mind that was still rational intervened. She dug her hind hooves into the sand, stopping in her tracks, a small cloud of dust raising from her sudden halt. Not only did they invade, the Crystal Empire, but they deposed its ruler and replaced him with their own Princess. How is that not imperialistic?
No, that was different. King Sombra had been a tyrant who had enslaved his own citizens. He was guilty of crimes against ponykind and had to be removed from power and brought to justice. But was it really that much different? Like every agent involved in international justice affairs, she’d studied the history of Taliban rule of Afghanistan after the terrorist attacks in America. She knew all to well how certain citizens had been treated under Taliban rule. Particularly women. She also knew about the Taliban’s version of so-called justice. It made even King Sombra’s version of justice look fair and reasonable. There was no doubt that the citizens of this country, particularly the women, were far better off now that the Taliban had been removed from power. In the end, was there really that much difference between what the Americans were doing here in Afghanistan and what the Equestrians had done in the Crystal Empire? And either way, was she really going to let a twelve year old girl stay in a situation where she would likely be raped every night? All because she couldn’t get passed her hatred and didn’t want to work with a human on a rescue mission?
“Shit,” she mumbled to herself as she turned around and took off at a full gallop, the wind whipping through her mane, causing it to blow straight back behind her, her tail sticking straight out. The buildings passing on her sides were practically a blur. She barely noticed the music from the cafe get loud, then quickly fade as she whipped past the door. She burst around the corner, down the narrow street, around another corner, and stopped in front of Bahram’s Coffee again, peering through the door. A couple of local Afghan men sat a table smoking a hookah, but Duncan was gone.
She turned, galloping back towards the cafe. The loud, rage-filled rock music blasted into her ears as if mocking her for her own anger fueled behavior. She stepped inside and looked around. American soldiers still filled the tables and lined the bar. But Duncan was nowhere to be found.
XI
“We’ll leave tomorrow morning,” Ice said to the Crystal Guards at the chariot. It had been three days since she’d talked to Duncan at Bahram’s Coffee. Each night, including tonight, she’d gone back to the cafe and the coffee shop looking for him. But he was nowhere to be found. She could find the American military camp easy enough, but going there was out of the question. There’s no way they’d let her in unless she could give them some reason for being there. And she certainly couldn’t tell them she was looking for Duncan. That would only cast suspicion on him and probably get him in trouble.
Earlier today, she’d gone shopping in the market to bring fresh food to the guards. They’d be running short on rations by now. If they had to, they could survive by grazing along with the cattle in the area. But she didn’t want them to have to resort to that. She had hoped that she might hear some useful gossip about the dead militia commander while shopping, but she had heard nothing. Most of the buyers and sellers had been women, and it seemed they just didn’t talk much about current events.
“Thank you, ma’am,” the guards said as she delivered the food. Mostly vegetables and fruit. She hadn’t been able to find any unprocessed grains. Only ground flour, which the guards obviously couldn’t eat without cooking. She only nodded in response to the guards’ thanks, then turned and started walking back towards the village, her heart heavy with the feeling that she had failed. She had blown it by not taking Duncan up on his offer right away. Now, she’d never get the witness she needed. And worse, some poor little girl was going to continue to suffer unspeakable horrors every night. All because she couldn’t bring herself to work with a human. She tried to tell herself she didn’t care. After all, the girl, despite being a child, was still just a human. Why should she care what happened to her? But the more she told herself that, the worse she felt about her own behavior and attitude. The more she knew she was lying to herself.
As she entered the village, she stopped by the cafe and Bahram’s Coffee one last time to look for Duncan. He wasn’t there. With a sick feeling in her stomach, she turned around and went back to the inn, climbed the stairs and went into her room. She briefly thought about eating dinner, but the mere thought of food made her stomach lurch. Instead, she simply removed her saddle pad and scarf, tossing them carelessly into a heap in the corner. Then, she climbed into bed, staring blankly at the water-stained plaster ceiling. She closed her eyes, trying to will herself to sleep so she wouldn’t have to think about how badly she had fucked things up. It took an hour, maybe two, especially given that she wasn’t used to sleeping at night. Eventually, though, she drifted off into slumber.
Ice was back in her old apartment in Canterlot. The ceiling was still painted with the star constellations of Equestria. Her bookshelf was stacked with Daring Do books, mocking her with their adventurous pegasus. A pony with wings. She was dressed in her Bat Team Alpha gear, and for a moment, she thought she might be dreaming of a happier time before that horrible day. But no, she still had no wings. The scars where they had been were fresh and the stumps were covered in rust colored bandages. Dried blood. It was as if her wings had just been removed in the last couple of days. Phantom limb pain throbbed a few inches away from her left side, where her wing had been before it had been torn away in the explosion.
A knock on her door. A surge of panic rushed through her. It started as a single knock, then became two, then three, then four. The varying sounds suggested it was both humans and ponies knocking. She whipped her head around at a tapping on her window. Ghosts hovered outside of it, scratching to get in. There were humans, some missing arms or legs, some with horrible burns or giant holes in them. And there were ponies, some missing wings, some missing legs, some with blood running down their ghostly coats. The knocking on her door became an incessant pounding and she whipped her head back around. Shouts and screams assaulted her ears along with the rattle of machine gun fire and the loud hissing of magical hellfire cannons. Explosions ripped through the air around her, lighting the air like a thunderstorm and sending balls of flame billowing into the sky as if the floor in her apartment had opened and spewed forth molten volcanic eruptions.
A loud BANG attacked her ears, and one of the boards she had nailed across her door split and fell to the floor with a loud clatter.
“Stop it! You can’t come in!” she yelled out. But the ghosts continued to yell and shout and pound at her door, scratch at her window. She quickly grabbed the loose board, placing it back on the door and pounding it back in place. Then, she ran to the window, attempting to reinforce it by pounding another board over it. Just as she finished pounding the board in place, the pane shattered. The smashing noise was followed by another loud clunk as the board on her door broke loose again and fell to the floor. She galloped over to the door, picked up the board, frantically nailing it back in place once again. But as she did so, she could already hear the ghosts pounding on the board she had nailed over the window, slowly but surely working it loose.
Fear shot through her as dust started to rain down on top of her like falling rain. A piece of plaster landed on her muzzle and bounced off. They were breaking through the ceiling! An explosion erupted on her left and a large crack formed in the wall, splitting it down the middle. She whipped her head in that direction, only for her ears to be blasted with another explosion from beneath her. The floor shook and heaved as in an earthquake, boards splitting and nails popping. As soon as she had turned her attention to the floor, a splitting sound burst out from the window. She whipped her head in that direction. The board was gone, and the ghosts of humans and ponies were scrambling to get through the window, arms and forelegs reaching out to try to grab her. In front of her, a blast ripped a hole in the door, and she whipped her head around again to see the ghosts trying to force their way through the gap in the door, screaming, shouting, coming for her. She screamed, turning her head in all directions and finding the same thing. Ghosts coming through the floor, the windows, the door, the ceiling, holes in the walls. She scrunched down to the floor, and screamed again.
A blue and gold light flashed, as if a star had exploded, or a bolt of lightning had landed right in front of her. For a brief moment, the light blinded her. Blue and white spots danced before her eyes like a flashbulb had gone off in front of her. The ghosts of humans and ponies crumbled into sand before her eyes, then vaporized into nothing. The shouting, the explosions, and the rat-tat-tat of machine gun fire faded to silence like a thunderstorm that had spent itself out. When her vision cleared, she was standing in a white mist, a regal pink alicorn standing above her, her horn still crackling with the cobalt afterglow of the spell.
“Oh Ice Moon, how much longer are you going to torture yourself like this?” Princess Cadance asked, deep concern flowing in her musical voice.
“Your Majesty … I … I didn’t know you could dreamwalk.”
“I can’t. It was Luna who became aware of your distress and brought me here.”
Ice glanced behind Cadance. The midnight blue alicorn was standing in the distance, shrouded in fog. Luna had a look of concern in her teal eyes, but stayed in the distance, apparently wanting to let Cadance handle this. Ice slowly stood up, turning her attention back to Cadance. She lowered her ears and looked at the floor. Her emotions were in turmoil. A small boat on the ocean being tossed in a hurricane.
She said, “I was fine until I took on this case. I was fine until the humans came along.” She had let her voice take on a slight tone of accusation. After all, it was Cadance who had assigned this case to her. If not for that, she wouldn’t even know the humans were in the Crystal Empire.
“Were you fine?” Cadance asked with a frown. “You’ve spent the last twenty years of your life avoiding anything that reminds you of that day, or of what your life was like before that day. You requested transfer to the Crystal Empire because Canterlot reminded you of your past. You stopped reading your favorite books because they reminded you of adventure and flying. You haven’t seen the Moon or stars in twenty years because you won’t look at the sky. You wear saddle pads because you can’t stand the sight of your own body. And you avoid anything at all that has to do with humans. Is that really how you want to live, Ice Moon?”
“I moved to Crystal City because I thought that being closer to the Crystal Heart might help me heal,” Ice responded defensively. “But it didn’t work. I guess those in Equestria who said the Crystal Heart was just a sham placebo were right.”
“It didn’t work because you didn’t want it to work. For the magic of the Crystal Heart to work on you, you have to open yourself up to it. You have to let it inside of you. But you’ve spent twenty years constructing a fortress around yourself to keep everything out, including the magic of the Crystal Heart.”
“My fortress was working until I took this case.” Ice was already hard at work trying to rebuild the fortress of her mind for the next time the ghosts attacked. She’d use more nails, stronger boards. She’d switch from wood to iron and steel. She’d make the fortress blast proof.
“Was it? Is that truly how you want to live? Locked inside a dungeon you’ve constructed in your own mind? How much of your life are you spending trying to avoid anything that reminds you? How much are you missing out on because of it? Has it really made your life better? Being too afraid to go out and experience the world?”
Ice frowned, a flood of sadness starting to fill her. She remembered that she herself had said something similar to Rover. Asked him whether that was really how he wanted to live his life. In and out of dungeons, prisons, and jails. It was true, she hadn’t been living her life. She’d been spending most of her time trying to avoid living it. But it was the only way she knew how to cope. And it was all the humans’ fault. She hated them for it. She shook her head once and looked at Cadance again.
“I lost too much that I can never get back.” She made a slight motion with her head towards her wingless back.
“Maybe it would help to focus on what you have instead of on what you’ve lost. Did you know that Captain Skyfire shot the left wing off a human bomber during that war? None –”
“So, the bomber and I both got our left wing shot off. You’re comparing me to a machine?” Ice felt anger rising inside of her as she cut off the Princess mid-sentence. She winced, realizing what she had done. But Cadance didn’t rebuke her, instead just continuing where she had left off, the same patient, compassionate tone in her voice.
“There were four human crew members inside the bomber, Ice. None of them survived.”
“Well, they were trying to bomb strategic targets in Equestria. What did they expect? That the Pegasus Guard was gonna sit on their ass and let them do it?” Ice felt no sympathy for the human crew at all. If they hadn’t been trying to fly a bomber into Equestria, they wouldn’t have gotten shot out of the sky and they’d still be alive. It was that simple.
Cadance shook her head. “I doubt that’s what they expected. But did you expect that the humans were just going to let you destroy their bunker without fighting back?”
Ice frowned. She couldn’t argue with that. But still, she shook her head. It didn’t change anything.
“No offense, Your Majesty. But you don’t know what it’s like to hate. I don’t even think you are capable of hate.”
Cadance shook her head once. “No, I am not. As the Element of Love, hate is so opposite my nature that I’m not capable of it. I can’t even hate Chrysalis, despite the fact that she tried to steal Shining Armor from me. But there is somepony I know who is capable of hate.” Cadance stepped to the side now. Shining Armor appeared out of the fog, walking towards her and stopping a few paces in front of her.
“My Lord?” was all Ice said.
“It’s true, Ice,” Shining Armor said with as much concern in his voice as Cadance. “For a long time, I hated Chrysalis because of what she did to me and to Cadance. I hated her for trying to destroy our love and tear apart our relationship. I wanted nothing more than to hunt her down and punish her for what she did. I wanted to take Equestria’s army and invade the changeling lands. I blamed all changelings for Chrysalis’ actions, and I didn’t care how many of them would be killed in an invasion. As long as I was able to capture Chrysalis and punish her. I pleaded with Celestia to give the order. To let me march our armies into the changeling lands and capture Chrysalis. But Celestia refused. She said the loss of life to innocent changelings would be far too great. And she would not allow that many innocents to die to catch one war criminal who had no power anymore anyway and was no longer a threat.”
Ice stared at Shining Armor in wonder, letting her jaw drop a bit. He’d really let Chrysalis get to him that much? So much that he’d spent all that time wanting nothing more than to capture her?
“So what did you do, My Lord?” she asked after a few moments.
“I continued to dwell in the past. I even became angry with Celestia. But that wasn’t the worst part. Not by far. My hatred of Chrysalis started to become all consuming. And because Chrysalis had been disguised as Cadance when she harmed me, eventually whenever I looked at Cadance, I started to think of Chrysalis. It started to get to the point where I couldn’t distinguish between them anymore. It …”
Shining Armor stopped and looked at the ground, his eyes starting to glisten. Ice felt her own heart breaking for him. This was obviously very painful for him to talk about. And the fact that she had known none of it until now meant he hadn’t told very many ponies. But he was telling her. Because he cared about her and wanted to help her. She had occasionally joked to herself about him being under Cadance’s hoof, like when he had refused to stop Cadance from assigning her this case. But the truth was, Shining Armor was one of the most model stallions she knew. He was firm, brave, and not afraid to do whatever he had to to protect Equestria, and now the Crystal Empire. When he had been High Commander of all of Equestria’s forces, he would have thrown himself in the line of fire to save the lowest ranking new recruit. He’d chewed her tail off more times than she could remember when she herself had been a new recruit. But he had also been kind, compassionate, caring, patient, and full of understanding and empathy. And he was demonstrating those qualities again right now. A single tear fell from one of the stallion’s eyes, rolled down his muzzle. Cadance nuzzled his neck with her muzzle, giving him a reassuring nod. He found his voice and continued.
“It nearly destroyed our marriage, Ice. I couldn’t enjoy my time with Cadance. I didn’t even want to be around her because she reminded me of Chrysalis. I started pushing Cadance away from me. I was destroying my life, and hers. All because I couldn’t let go of my hatred … Ironically, I was giving Chrysalis exactly what she had wanted. And my obsession with punishing Chrysalis for hurting the one I loved, was ultimately only hurting the one I loved.”
Ice’s heart felt like it was being torn in two. Never in her worst thoughts had she ever imagined that the royal couple had gone through such a dark period. They had always seemed like the perfect pair. Like they never had any problems at all.
“What … what did you do? I mean how’d you overcome it?” she asked, her own voice trembling.
“Only with Cadance’s help. She always continued to love me, despite the hard times. And she had undying patience. She helped me realize that I had to forgive Chrysalis in order to stop living in the past and move forward with my life. And she helped me realize that I was making something personal that for Chrysalis, really hadn’t been personal. Chrysalis wasn’t out to get me. And she wasn’t out to get Cadance. She was just … trying to feed off my love for Cadance because she thought she was doing what was best for her hive.”
Ice looked at the floor again, realizing just how much her own situation mirrored Shining Armor’s. Like him, she was blaming all humans for the actions of one, and she wanted to punish all humans for the actions of one. All these years she’d been making it personal, when it wasn’t. The human soldier who had fired the RPG that took her wing hadn’t been out to get her. He hadn’t had anything personal against her. He was just trying to protect his fellow soldiers and their bunker. The RPG could have exploded near any one her team. She just happened to be the one who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Yes, the humans in the dungeon of the Crystal Palace might be guilty of murder. And if they were, then they should be punished for it. But they most certainly were not guilty of taking her wings. They hadn’t even been there. They weren’t even old enough to remember the war. And really, was it their fault for reminding her of something she wanted to forget? Or was it her fault for not being able to let go of the past and move on? And either way, it was not a crime to remind her of something. It’s not something they even had any control over. Punishing them for that would be like punishing a pony for no reason other than they reminded her of another pony who she didn’t like. Clearly, that would be unfair, and a gross misuse of the justice system. A gross misuse of her office and of the power that the Princesses and Prince had trusted her with. A new emotion began to replace the anger and hatred. Shame. Shame that she had let things go this far. Shame that she hadn’t even realized until now that she had been about to punish five humans whether or not they were actually guilty of any crime. All because they reminded her of something she wanted to forget. Salty tears began to sting her own eyes. She felt one slide from her eyelid, leaving a cold trail down her muzzle as it fell.
“I’m so ashamed of myself,” she said, looking at the floor now, her ears low and her tail drooping. “I’ve betrayed the trust of both of you. As I worked this case, I lost sight of justice, and it became my goal to punish the humans no matter what. And I didn’t even realize I was being unfair.”
She felt Shining Armor’s hoof under her chin. He gently raised her head to look at him and shook his head slightly.
“No, Ice. You haven’t harmed the humans yet. You stopped yourself before any actual harm was done. That was more than I was able to do. And I understand. I truly do. I didn’t even realize I was harming Cadance when I started avoiding her because she reminded me of Chrysalis.”
“But I’ve spent so long trying to live in the past, that I don’t even know how to move forward,” she said softly.
It was Cadance who answered. “You need to stop hiding from those events. You need to acknowledge them and decide how you want them to affect your life. You can’t change what happened to you. But you can change how it affects you. It won’t be easy. Change never is. But if you continue to work at it, you can change how you respond to those events. Every single event that happens to you in your life is an opportunity. But what you choose to do with that opportunity is up to you. You can use the opportunity to make positive change, or you can use it to make negative change. You can choose to use it to grow, or you can use it as an excuse to wither and die. It’s entirely up to you, Ice Moon.”
Ice felt another tear slide down her muzzle. “I guess I’ve pretty much wasted the last twenty years of my life, haven’t I …”
Cadance smiled and shook her head. “I do not think Rover would say that. You believed in him when no one else would. You gave him a second chance when no one else wanted to. You requested transfer to the Crystal Empire because you wanted to run away from your memories. But when you got here, you were instrumental in reforming Sombra’s tyrannical law and kangaroo court into a justice system that is fair, impartial, and that the Crystal Empire can be proud of. And in that way, you’ve already helped the human prisoners, despite your desire to punish them. After all, Sombra would have likely had them executed shortly after they were forced to land. They are still alive because of a fair justice system that you helped create.”
“I … guess I never looked at it that way before,” Ice said, raising a forehoof and rubbing the tears off her muzzle, feeling her spirits lift just a little bit. Like a storm that had been raging inside of her for twenty years was finally starting to part, and a faint hint of moonlight was beginning to shine through the clouds.
“You were so caught up thinking of all the things you could no longer do, that you couldn’t see the positive changes you were making not only in the lives of the ones you worked with, but for the entire Empire. You’ve spent the last twenty years of life giving hope to others, but having no hope for yourself.”
Ice nodded slightly. But then, the storm clouds closed back up, the thin sliver of moonlight disappearing. The tears started to flow freely down her muzzle, the events of three nights ago ripping through her mind.
“I blew it, Your Majesties,” she managed to choke out through her sobbing. “I refused Duncan’s offer of help because I didn’t want to work with a human. And now I can’t find him again. And some poor little girl is going to continue to live a life of torture because of me. Because I couldn’t overcome my own selfishness.” She sobbed heavily, again wiping her tears with a forehoof. Cadance placed a comforting forehoof on her shoulder.
“No, I don’t think you’ve blown it.” She smiled knowingly, then glanced back at Luna, as if the two of them had some secret between them. “But now, we must go.”
Cadance took her forehoof off Ice’s shoulder. Both Royals smiled at her, and then turned and started walking into the mist of the dreamworld. After a few paces, Shining Armor stopped and turned his head over his shoulder to look at her.
“His name was Dale Sherman, in case you want to know.”
“My Lord?” Ice asked with confusion in her voice.
“The human soldier who fired the RPG that destroyed your wing. Private Dale Sherman.”
“How do you know?”
“One of your teammates saw him fire the RPG. They checked his dog tags later.”
“He’s dead?”
“None of the humans stationed at the compound survived that raid, Ice.”
And then, Shining Armor turned around and he and Cadance faded into the mist before Ice had a chance to ask any more questions. The mist faded along with them, and the half-wrecked fortress she had been in when this all began came into view again. For the first time, it occurred to her that for twenty years, she had never known what the final outcome of the raid she had lead on the compound had been. The last thing she remembered was the pain in her wing as the RPG exploded. When she woke up again, she’d been in a field hospital, too drugged up on morphine to think clearly. When she’d learned about her wing, she’d immediately begun the process of trying to distance herself from what had happened. She’d never even asked how the raid had ended. It had never been a conscious decision not to ask, she had just never done it, and didn’t even realize it until now.
She looked around the fortress. She was alone again, and the damage done by the ghosts was still there. Large holes riddled the ceiling. Boards pointed upward from the floor, like sharpened stakes, where they had split and pushed up in the middle, leaving holes underneath them. The concrete walls crumbled inward and the heavy wooden door was hanging lopsided from one hinge. It would take her forever to repair this damage. No … She didn’t have to repair the damage. She needed to finish what the ghosts had started. She needed to demolish the fortress altogether.
Suddenly, the fortress vanished as she was yanked out of the dreamworld by the sounds of creaking wood reaching her sensitive ears. Someone was coming up the stairs! She leapt out of bed, quickly making her way over to the wall with the door. She turned sideways, pressing her left side against the wall near the door. She tensed and waited, the footsteps growing closer. They were at the top of the stairs now and walking down the hall. She perked her ears forward, gathering all available sound. There was only one set of footsteps, which ruled out a soldier with a prostitute. She waited to see if the footsteps would stop at one of the doors before her own. But they continued to get louder, growing ever closer. The muscles in her hind legs bunched together as she got ready to spring on whoever it was, should they open the door. She prepared herself to instantly subdue whoever came through, or possibly even instantly kill them. The footsteps stopped outside of her door and she tensed further, like a trap on a hair trigger that would spring at the slightest disturbance. A piece of paper slid under the door …
XII
Ice glanced down at the piece of paper that had been slid beneath the door, being careful to make sure she kept all parts of her body behind the door frame in case someone were to kick it in. The flimsy door bolted to the plaster wall would be easy enough for anyone to kick down on their first try. There was writing on the paper:
It’s Duncan. I’m dressed in civvies.
Her heart leapt. She hadn’t blown it! But Bat Team Alpha had taught her to be cautious. Perhaps even a bit paranoid. What if it wasn’t really Duncan? What if it was someone else trying to trick her into opening the door unprepared. She leaned forward slightly, still careful to keep all parts of her body out of the path of the door. She spoke quietly through it.
“Open the door and come in slowly. Walk straight in. Do not turn your head to the side. Do not attempt to turn. Stop when you are five paces in and do nothing until I say. Keep your hands where I can see them.”
The door opened, and a man wearing faded blue jeans and a red and black checkered flannel shirt stepped into the room. He was wearing a New York Yankees ball cap that obscured his hair and carrying a dented and chipped red aluminum toolbox in his left hand. As he walked past, she flared her nostrils, taking in his scent. There was a stale smell of Marlboros, but underneath it, she was able to determine that it was Duncan’s scent. He seemed to be trying to pass for a civilian contractor. He stopped five paces in as she had instructed, keeping his hands to his sides. There, he waited. Ice breathed a sigh of relief as she pushed the door closed with a forehoof.
“All right, you can turn around,” she said to him. He did so, a slight look of confusion on his face, as if he were surprised to see her standing there. Then again, she was just as surprised to see him, but certainly glad of it.
“How did you find me?” she asked.
“I uh … had a dream telling me to come to the inn and go to the last door on the left side of the second floor. The dream was oddly persuasive … It was your Princess wasn’t it … Luna?”
“Probably,” Ice confirmed with a slight nod, and a feeling of disappointment in herself that Luna had had to bail her out of this and fix her mistake. Still, she said a quick prayer of thanks in her mind to the Night Princess. “I went back to look for you, but you were gone. I spent the last three nights trying to find you.”
“You seemed pretty firm on not wanting anything to do with me. At least not when it came to any kind of … joint rescue operation.”
She looked at the floor. “I know … And I’m sorry. I … well, I changed my mind. Let’s get the girl.”
She walked over to the window and closed the shutters, then moved to the middle of the room, sitting on her haunches on the rough wooden floor and motioning him over to sit across from her. Even if they talked quietly, she was afraid their voices might reach the street if they sat at the table by the window. Duncan walked over to her and sat cross-legged on the floor across from her. He opened the red toolbox and pulled out a large piece of paper, which he spread out on the floor. On it was a diagram that appeared to show a top-down view of a fenced in building. It was remarkably detailed, noting where the windows in the building were, where copses of trees and other potential cover was around the building, and other such details.
He began speaking. “So this is what it looks like. There are two armed local police usually stationed outside of the building, but they are often a little complacent cause nothing’s ever happened there before. The place is fairly far outside of the village, so we won’t have to worry about attracting attention from anyone other than the guards.”
“How do you know so much about this place?” she interrupted, looking up from the diagram. He hesitated for several moments before answering, looking at the floor, that same feeling of shame she had noticed when she’d first met him at Bahram’s Coffee seeming to emanate off of him again.
“I’ve been doing recon on it for a while … Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve thought of going in there on my own to get her out. Thing that stopped me is I didn’t know what I’d do with her when I got her out. I had nowhere to send her. But now, I figure you can get her to safety.”
Ice nodded slightly and hesitated for a moment before responding. “You know … You don’t have to do this at all. I can go in by myself.”
“What? You still don’t want to do this with me because I’m a human?”
“No, it’s not that. It’s that if the guards identify me, it won’t matter because I’ll be safely back in the Crystal Empire. They won’t be able to touch me. But if they identify you … you’ll get in serious trouble. So I can do it. You don’t have to do anything, really.”
Duncan looked at the floor and she felt that hint of shame flowing from him again. He responded quietly.
“I’ve already spent too long doing nothing. If I get in trouble, then I get in trouble. As long as we can get the girl to safety. Even if we were only doing this to rescue the girl, that would be enough. But it’s bigger than just one girl. If you can get her to safety, and she can get her story out, maybe someone will finally do something to stop this shit from happening around here.”
Ice just looked at Duncan for several long moments, the damaged walls of her fortress starting to crumble more. But this time, she didn’t try to repair them. This time, she just let them fall. Duncan continued when she said nothing.
“Anyway, I don’t think one of us could pull this off alone. Someone’s gonna have to divert the attention of the two guards so the other one can go in. I’m thinking you go in, and I’ll divert the guards.”
Ice shook her head. “Wouldn’t it be better if you go in? She’s probably never seen a pony before. She might be afraid of me and scream.”
“I thought all girls liked ponies?”
Ice rolled her eyes. “Maybe the cute, pastel pink or yellow ones. But dark gray ones with vampire fangs in their mouths? I’m not so sure.”
“Point. But if the guards are gonna see one of us, it’s better if they see me. They won’t be able to identify me from any other human in the area. But it’s not exactly like there are many ponies other than you around here. And besides, the girl will probably scream long before she sees you. But the guards won’t hear her. They won’t be hearing or seeing much of anything for several minutes, and they’ll be disoriented.”
“What are you planning to do?” Ice asked, feeling a strong sense of suspicion.
“I’m gonna toss a few M-84s their way.”
“Stun grenades?”
Duncan nodded. “Probably they’ll think the building is under attack by insurgents. I don’t expect they’ll stick around to try to defend the place, especially given they won’t be able to hear or see anything for awhile. Most likely, they’ll flee into the trees and hide. Or they’ll flee towards the village. But you should be able to be in and out before they’d ever be able to get back with reinforcements..”
Ice frowned, not liking this plan at all. She said, “We can’t afford to kill anyone, Duncan. You better be damn good with your aim at tossing those.”
“Trust me. I’ll be able to get them close enough to stun, but not so close to kill or cause permanent injury. And I’ll err on the side of dropping them too far away. Even they don’t get the full stun effect, they are gonna panic and run cause they’ll still think they are under attack from a force armed with superior weapons. They’re poorly trained civilian guards. Not military soldiers.”
Ice still didn’t like it. But what other options where there? Reluctantly, she nodded her head. “Okay. So what do you need from me?”
“I’ll give you a flashlight. You get into the fenced area, and up along the back of the building. The side opposite the guards. Once you’re there, you flash me once then cover your ears. I’ll toss the first M-84. Once you’ve heard the blast, wait until the guards run away. Then go around to the front of the building. The door will be locked, but from the looks of the door, I don’t think you’ll have any problem kicking it down with your rear hooves. Once you’re inside, you’ll have to look for the girl. I’d suggest making your way up to the second floor and checking the bedrooms. He’s probably got her locked inside of one of them, but again, you won’t have any trouble kicking down the doors. When you find her, get to a window and flash me another signal with the flashlight. I’ll toss another M-84 to make sure your exit is clear. At that point, get to the ground floor and get out. Don’t come looking for me. Just take the girl and run. Get yourself and the girl out of here as fast as you can. And one more thing. If at any time you hear two explosions in rapid succession, hunker down, don’t leave the building, and don’t expose yourself at any windows. It means it’s not safe to exit the building. It shouldn’t come to that, but if it does, I’ll do what I have to to clear the guards out and then I’ll come in and get you.”
“Are you sure the girl will be the only one inside the building?”
“As sure as I can be. I’ve spent several nights watching the building. And other than the police chief and the two guards, I’ve never seen anyone else enter or leave.”
Ice took a deep breath and raised a forehoof, rubbing her muzzle for a moment. She really didn’t like this plan. It’s not that she didn’t think they’d be able to get the girl out. After all, it was only two poorly trained civilian guards, and she and Duncan would have the element of a surprise ambush. Her concern was that one or both of the guards were going to end up dead in the process. Finally, however, she nodded again, seeing no other alternatives.
“Okay … So … so when do you want to do this?”
“Now. The police chief is at work so we’ll only have to contend with the two guards. And I want to get her out of there before he comes home. I don’t want to leave her to suffer one more night there.”
Ice frowned. She was anxious to get the girl out as well, but rushing into an operation without more time to learn about the target was always dangerous. Of course, sometimes that’s just the way things went in Bat Team Alpha. Sometimes you had to move quickly and take advantage of an opportunity when it presented itself. But that was also how she’d lost her wing. The raid on the compound had been short notice. They had learned of an opportunity, and there had been a very short window of time to take advantage of it. So they’d gone in with less information than they would have liked. And because of that, the operation hadn’t gone as smoothly as they’d hoped it would. From what Shining Armor had told her in the dream, it had still been successful. But they’d taken injuries that they probably wouldn’t have taken if they’d had more information about the target before going in. She’d probably still have her wings today if they hadn’t had to rush that operation. But the idea of leaving the girl there to suffer for one more night turned her stomach. They had to get her out as soon as possible. Hopefully the Crystal Guards would be ready to leave when she showed up five hours earlier than she’d planned and told them they had to go now. She nodded her head and responded quickly before she had time to change her mind.
“Alright. Let’s go. But obviously, it would be best if the two of us were not seen together. We should leave at different times and meet outside the house.”
Duncan reached into the toolbox and pulled out a map, spreading it over the diagram of the building. Then he pulled out a marker.
“Alright, we are here,” he said, drawing a black circle on the part of the map where the inn was. “The compound is here.” He drew an X on the map. “You shouldn’t take the shortest route, though. It will lead you through areas of town that might have people about even at this time of night. Take this route instead.” He drew a line from the circle to the X that wound around a few side streets and alleys. “This will keep you away from populated areas. No one is likely to see you if you go this route.” The route he had drawn also backtracked on itself a couple of times – a safety measure to ensure that if anyone did see one of them while they were en route, it would be almost impossible to determine what their intended destination was.
“Alright,” Ice responded. “You leave first. You know the route. I’ll leave in ten minutes. That will give me time to familiarize myself with the map and the streets.” She had to memorize the map. There was no way she was taking it with her. If one of the local police officers, or an American soldier stopped her, she had no intention of trying to explain to them why she was carrying a map with a roundabout route drawn on it that ultimately lead to the home of the local police chief.
“I’ll meet you in the back of the compound. There’s a grove of trees there we can hide in. Will you be able to find me in there?”
“I’m a thestral. We can see almost perfectly at night. And even though we don’t usually bite, one thing we do have in common with vampire bats is that we can sense infrared thermal radiation. I’ll be able to find you. You might as well have a tracking beacon attached to you.” She flashed him a grin, letting some fang show. It was fair to mess with him a bit. After all, he had made that crack about wondering if he’d turn into a thestral if she bit him.
“Yeah … Okay … Good enough, then. As long as you can find me in the trees.” He had a slight hint of nervousness in his scent like he wasn’t entirely sure if she was joking about the biting part. She allowed herself the small pleasure of enjoying it. Like it was the faint scent of freshly baked bread wafting from the Crystal City bakery. After all, no one could expect that she would completely change overnight. But then, she frowned and thought better of it. Yes, he deserved it, but she didn’t want to risk him getting cold feet and bailing out on her. Better to make sure there was no chance at all of any misunderstanding. This rescue operation was too important. Reluctantly, she came clean.
“It was a joke. Well, the part about biting was anyway. We don’t bite. Not outside of combat anyway. The part about being able to sense and track thermal radiation is true though. So you don’t have to worry about me not being able to find you, no matter how well you hide yourself in the trees.” Duncan’s body language suggested he was relieved to hear it.
“Alright … I’ll be wearing black, though. I’m gonna find a place to change after I leave. It’d be too easy for the guards to spot me dressed like this.”
“Don’t worry about it. Unless you plan on lowering your body temperature to the same as the surrounding air, which I don’t suggest because it would mean you were dead and had been for quite some time, I’ll still be able to find you as easily as if there were a giant blinking arrow pointing right at you.” Duncan rolled his eyes slightly at that.
“Alright. Check your watch. Ten minutes,” he said. Ice lifted her foreleg, checking the time on the watch she had strapped to it.
“I’ll see you there. And Duncan?”
“Yeah?”
“Remember … no killing. If we get there and it doesn’t look like we can pull it off without killing the guards, we turn around and leave. I can’t investigate a murder by committing murder myself.”
Duncan frowned. “You still think we’re all violent, murderous sociopaths?”
Ice lowered her ears. She was stereotyping again already. But Cadance had told her change wouldn’t happen overnight. Not when she’d been thinking this way for twenty years now. And, it was better to be safe than sorry. Besides, even if Duncan had contemplated killing the guards, there was a part of her that had pondered doing the same thing as well. In fact, if she were honest with herself, her own hunger for blood had probably played a bigger role in her admonishment against killing the guards than any fear about what Duncan might do. She had very few qualms about killing a couple of guards who stood around and did nothing while their boss repeatedly raped a twelve year old girl. And that wasn’t just her misanthropy at work either. She’d feel the same way if it were ponies who did nothing about a filly being raped. Such people deserved nothing less than death. But she wasn’t ready to share her own violent desires with Duncan.
“I just want to make sure there’s no room for any misunderstanding. It’s better to be explicit about the mission parameters and limits, is it not?”
“It is,” Duncan said quietly, in a tone that suggested he wasn’t certain if that was really all there was to her admonition against killing anyone on this mission. But he said no more about it as he closed the toolbox and picked it up then he turned and started for the door.
“Duncan?”
“Yes?” He stopped and turned around again.
“What made you so sure that the man at the coffee shop wouldn’t talk, even if he were able to understand what we were saying? That seemed like an awfully big risk to take.”
“She’s his daughter.”
“The girl we’re about to rescue?”
“Yeah.”
“He left his own daughter there? Never tried to rescue her himself?” A feeling of disgust rose inside of her. Who would do that? Leave their own filly to be raped? Any parent with their salt would have tried to rescue their own filly, even if it almost certainly meant their own death.
“He has no weapons and no military training. What do you think he should have done? Storm the house with his bare hands, get himself killed before he ever got anywhere near it, and cause the girl to be severely beaten for his failed rescue attempt?”
“The girl will be beaten if we fail? The feeling of disgust grew like she’d just swallowed rotting meat, although it was no longer disgust for the father, but disgust for anyone who would beat a child.
“Yes, she will be. So don’t fail. And remember, you get in, you grab her, you get out, and you go. Don’t stop to look for me. Just go,” Duncan said as he turned to the door and reached for the handle. Just before turning it, he stopped and looked over his shoulder again.
He said, “You know, I never did get your name.”
For a moment, she considered lying to him and giving him an alias. But then she decided that at least a small amount of mutual trust was necessary if they were going to work together on a joint rescue operation. And she already knew his name. Well, his last name at least.
“It’s Ice Moon. But most ponies just call me Ice, so you can as well. It seems I only know part of your name?”
“My first name is Wade.” he turned around once more.
“Hey, Wade?”
“Yeah?” He looked over his shoulder.
“Do you have any kids?”
“I have a wife and daughter. She’s six years old.”
Ice only nodded in response. Duncan turned his head forward again and left the room, quietly closing the door behind him, his footsteps slowly retreating into silence as he went down the stairs.
After he left, she bristled slightly. The fact that he had been telling her what to do, like he was some kind of commander giving orders, annoyed her. Who did he think he was? He was half her age and probably had one tenth of her command experience. And besides, she didn’t take orders from humans. As soon as the thought that, she caught herself and frowned. She was doing it again. And although he might lack experience, he had been studying the house and was familiar with the local police. She had never even seen the house and knew nothing of the local police or their tactics. And his instructions were the most logical course of action she could take anyway. He could take care of himself and get himself out of there. She just needed to focus on getting the girl to safety.
She looked down at the map he’d left her again, studying the route and the layout of the streets, quickly committing it to memory. She also noted where she had left the chariot and the Crystal Guards in relation to the village and figured out the quickest way to get there without going through the village again. Then she stood up and grabbed one of her saddlebags, tossing it onto the cot and dumping the contents in a heap. She rifled through the pile, pulling out a dark black saddle pad and two matching scarves. She also selected a black tail wrap from the heap, then shoved all four items into the saddlebag before closing and latching it. She removed a cobalt-blue saddle pad from the pile and wrapped it around her back. As she dressed, she continued to go over the map in her mind and the route that Duncan had planned out. She adjusted the saddle pad, then threw the now very light saddlebag over her back, securing it in place. She checked her watch again. Still six minutes before she had to leave. She used the remaining time to glance at the map again, making sure her memory was accurate. Then, she studied the diagram of the compound that Duncan had also left behind. She checked her watch again. Time to go. She folded the diagram and the map and hid them under the mattress on the cot before going to the door and stepping out into the hallway, then walking slowly to the end and starting down the steps, setting each hoof with a deliberate precision. But even with all her skill and care at moving quietly, she couldn’t keep the occasional board from creaking under her hooves. She arrived at the last step to find the lobby empty. The old man and the boy were nowhere to be seen, although the old man at least was probably asleep behind the curtain. She continued to be cautious about not making noise as she made her way outside.
The chill of the night air soaked through her fur and to her skin. It still amazed her that such an arid desert climate could get so cold at night. The streets were silent and empty now, the cafe probably having closed a few hours ago. There was very little light, indicating that it was a rare cloudy day with a heavy overcast sky, making it very dark by non-thestral standards Only the slightest of light penetrated through the scud, painting the clouds a volcanic ash like gray. But Ice could see just fine with the small amount of light that was available. There were street lamps lining the sides of the road, but none of them were lit. Electricity was probably a luxury around here and the outdoor lights were turned off after the cafe closed. Despite the silence, Ice remained vigilant, also tuning into her ability to sense thermal radiation. A very small thermal signature was coming from her left. Far too small to be a human. It was only a rat digging through a pile of refuse.
She turned on the street Duncan had indicated on his map and continued walking, then turned down another street a few minutes later. Shortly after, she turned again, taking the roundabout route he had given her. To her left loomed a burned out building that still smelled of smoke and charred wood. Only a large chimney remained standing, connected to what appeared to be a furnace and an anvil inside the building. The place had probably been a blacksmith’s shop. Next to that building was another one that had completely collapsed into a pile of rubble. To her right, a building with a collapsed roof. A battle had recently happened here, she realized with a shudder. Her mind fought with her, trying desperately to launch itself into another flashback of their raid on the compound and the loss of her wings. She fought back with all of her willpower, telling herself that if she lost it now, she’d blow the mission, the girl would remain captive and continue to be abused every night, and she’d blow her case as well. Slowly, her mind yielded to her will and the urge to tumble into a flashback faded.
Suddenly, she realized the buildings were completely gone and the road had disappeared altogether. Now, she was just walking on gray hilly sand filled with dips and dunes. Her hooves sank slightly into the surface. She cursed herself for losing situational awareness while she had fought the flashback. She hadn’t even been aware of leaving the limits of the town. She shook her head. There’d be time to chastise herself later. For now, she had to focus on the mission.
With no shelter from the village buildings, the wind tumbled off the dunes, throwing the gritty grains of sand into her face. She winced, then opened her saddlebag and pulled out the scarf she had brought, tying it around her muzzle to protect her nose and mouth, leaving only her eyes uncovered. The other scarf, she wrapped around her head, making sure to tuck her midnight blue mane under it, leaving no strands free. She also took off the blue saddle pad she was wearing and replaced it with the black one she had packed in the saddlebag. She wanted to put on the black tail sleeve as well, but with a growing sense of embarrassment, she realized she was going to have to ask Duncan to put it on for her. There was a tool for putting the things on yourself, but she so rarely wore tail wraps that she had forgotten to pack it. Her eyes started to water as the occasional grain of sand stung them. But once again, she was trained for this kind of thing, and she was able to ignore the discomfort. Besides, there was something else that bothered her a lot more about being out there than getting sandblasted. She was terribly exposed. Someone could be hiding behind any one of those dunes. Despite her exceptional night vision, she couldn’t see through solid objects. Nor could her thermal senses see through them. Logically, she knew there was likely no one hiding out here waiting to pick off unwary travelers. After all, there wouldn’t normally be any travelers to pick off this late at night. But the thought still unnerved her a bit.
She crested a dune. The compound loomed in the distance. It was larger than most of the homes in the village, no doubt indicating the police chief’s higher status and greater wealth (although Ice suspected much of that wealth had been accumulated through corrupt means. What else could she assume from someone who was allegedly keeping a child as a legal sex slave?) Fortunately, most of its size was up instead of out. That meant there probably weren’t many rooms in the second level, and it wouldn’t take her long to find the one the girl was in. The windows in the building actually had glass panes in them, which had been a very rare sight among the dwellings of the poorer villagers. But the walls were still made of the same mudbrick construction that was common for the area. The roof also wasn’t made of tin, and was covered in genuine tar shingles. There were no lights on, but she could see the two guards standing by the door, as well as sense their thermal radiation. Ice was exposed on top of the Dune, but she had no fears that the guards could see her from this far away, so she took a few moments to observe them. They were carrying AK-47 rifles, but other than that, appeared to be unarmed. To the left and rear of the house, she could see the copse of trees that Duncan said he would be hiding in. The copse was nearly a perfect square, clearly an artificially planted oasis. She dropped back below the dune and circled wide to the left, making sure to stay far enough out that the guards would not be able to see her in the dark. She moved like a shadow, making no sound as she approached the trees from the end furthest from the building. She scanned deep into the copse, looking for Duncan. There he was. She couldn’t see him through the trees, but she could zero in on his thermal radiation like a vampire bat zeroing in on its next meal. She smiled. She might not have wings anymore, but her ability to track thermal radiation sources was completely intact.
Moving like a ghost, she entered the copse, keeping her eyes locked on the exact point where her thermal sense told her that Duncan was hiding. She moved each hoof forward slowly, setting them down very lightly. Whenever she felt a stick or other potential source of noise under her light touch, she would move her hoof and try again. In this way, she moved through the copse like a phantom. The truth was, she probably could have charged through the copse like an angry rhino and the guards at the compound wouldn’t have been able to hear her over the noise the wind was making through the trees. But she didn’t want to take any chances, nor did she want to frighten Duncan.
A few steps later, her night vision spotted Duncan. He was crouched by a thick tangle of bushes, covered in black, including his head. She suppressed a chuckle. He looked like a ninja out of some low-budget Hollywood martial arts flick. But despite his humorous appearance, his dark colored garb was effective. No one other than a thestral like herself, a unicorn with a life detect spell, or another human with an infrared camera would have been able to spot him. Besides, with the black saddle pad and scarf covering everything but her eyes, she probably looked as ridiculous as he did, she realized with a tinge of embarrassment. Duncan hadn’t moved and appeared to be unaware that she was there. She took a few more steps before stopping and whispering quietly.
“Duncan, it’s Ice.”
He jumped slightly, a brief burst of fear flowing from his scent, but he got it under control almost as soon as it had happened.
“Wow, you really did find me.”
“I told you I would,” she said, feeling smug and giving him a fanged grin to match it. Yeah, she still had it. Although Duncan hadn’t been able to see her smug grin through the scarf, she realized with disappointment. Duncan only nodded slightly.
“No offense, but you look ridiculous,” he said to her.
“No offense, but I was thinking the same thing about you,” she responded, bearing her fangs again despite the fact that he couldn’t see them.
“You remember the plan?” he asked.
“Of course I do.”
“Alright … Let’s do this, then. Remember, cover your ears after you give me the signal. Even from behind the building, the blast from the M-84 might leave your hearing temporarily reduced if you don’t cover your ears.”
She frowned under her scarf, flicked her tail once in a fidgety way, then swallowed her pride.
“Duncan?”
“Yes?”
“I need you to put the tail wrap on for me.” She felt dirty saying it, as if she’d just volunteered to star in a cheap porn shoot. Although she’d been able to swallow her pride, it wasn’t nearly as easy for her to swallow her distaste of letting a human touch her there.
“What?” Duncan asked. She could see his raised eyebrow behind his mask.
“It’s a black sleeve that covers my tail like the scarf covers my mane. That way if I get spotted, no one will be able to tell what color my mane and tail are.” She reached into her saddlebag and pulled the tail wrap out with her mouth, then held it out in front of him. He looked at it as if it were on fire, or as if he thought the long tube of nylon might suddenly turn into a cobra and bite him. After a few seconds during which he made no move to reach for it, she narrowed her eyes at him.
“Would you just take it and do it?” she asked with annoyance.
Reluctantly, he reached out and took it, he change in his scent telling her he was as uncomfortable as she was with the whole thing. She turned around so her tail was facing him. He slowly reached out towards her as if he thought her tail might rear up and bite him. Then, he carefully took the end and started to feed it into the sleeve, saying nothing. Ice gritted her teeth, but was unable to resist the urge to turn her head over her shoulder.
“Touch anything other than my tail and one of my rear hooves is gonna be in your face,” she hissed.
“You think this is any less awkward for me than it is for you? You want me to put it on or not?”
She nodded slowly, then turned her head forward again, deciding she’d rather not watch, although she could still see him in her peripheral vision. He fumbled with the tail wrap a few times, dropping it once, acting as if he were trying to hold onto a bar of slippery, wet soap. Slowly, he threaded her tail into the tube, working as if he were trying to disarm a bomb that might go off in his face if he made even the slightest wrong move. As he got closer to the base of her tail, he moved even more carefully. After what seemed like hours, but in reality was probably no more than a minute, he had worked the entire wrap onto her tail. He raised the zipper, and closed the button at the base, securing it. Then he pulled his hands away and let out a sigh of relief, as if he’d just been allowed to remove his hands from a bucket of steaming water that someone had forced him to hold them in. Ice flicked her tail to her side, looking behind her now, making sure the whole thing was covered and none of the blue strands were visible.
“Nice job,” she said, feeling her own sense of relief. In retrospect, the whole tail-wrapping ordeal had not been nearly as bad as either one of them had made it out to be. She felt a bit silly about getting so worked up over the whole thing.
“Thanks … Anyway, you look good. With the long saddle pad, the scarves covering your muzzle and mane, and the tail-wrap, even I wouldn’t recognize you despite having already seen you.” He seemed to have recovered his composure and the uncomfortable embarrassment that had entered his scent was gone. That was good. He’d need all the self-control he could muster in a few minutes.
“At least you won’t have to worry about taking it off, huh?” she said with a lighthearted note. Then, she took on a serious tone again. “Alright. You got the flashlight? Let’s do it.”
Duncan reached into his toolbox and took out a black flashlight, placing it inside her saddlebag and making sure it would be easy for her to get at when she needed it. Then, Ice crept slowly, working her way through the copse and to the back of the building …
XIII
Yay! Ice has fan art! 
Thanks to totallynotabrony for creating this!
The explosion of the M84 roared through the night, ear-piercingly loud even through Ice's forehooves which were covering her ears. Even with the building shielding her from the blast, the shock wave reverberating against her as if the Wonderbolts had just performed a sonic boom a few paces away from her. For a brief moment, the dark part of her mind tried to wrest control away from her and send her into a flashback of the explosion that had taken her wing. But she fought it off quickly and it returned to the shadowed corners. All she could feel now was the adrenaline pulsing through her veins. The thrill of the mission.
She took her forehooves away from her ears and leaped to her hooves. Terrified and confused shouting came from the front of the building. A moment later, two guards bolted from the building, running away in the direction of the copse. Ice waited, then sprang into action, kicking up sand as she darted around the side of the house to the front door. She turned around, kicking out with both hind legs and striking the door. The wood exploded into a shower of splinters as if it had been hit by an express train.
She raced into the building, relying on her wide peripheral vision to warn her of any threats approaching from the sides. She didn't like blindly charging into a target like this, but the clock was ticking. It would only be a matter of time before the two guards would likely be back with reinforcements. She found herself doing something she had never done in her entire life: Trusting a human. She had to trust that Duncan's recon on the place had been accurate and there was no one else inside the building except for the girl.
She found the stairs and quickly raced up them. They ended at an open hallway that branched off in a T. There were two doors to the left, and two to the right. There was no wall on the side facing the stairs. Only a railing to prevent people from falling to the floor below. That was both good and bad for her purposes. It meant she'd be able to see the floor below at all times and would be aware of any threats entering the building. But it also meant she was exposed to those threats when she was in the hallway.
Another eardrum shattering blast reverberated through the walls, shaking the light fixtures as Duncan tossed another stun grenade. A high-pitched scream from the left followed it. She swiveled her ears in that direction. The girl was in the last room.
She galloped down the hall, her hooves pounding on the wooden floor like thunder. She was making enough noise to wake the dead right now, but that wasn't important. No one except the girl would hear her. She reached the door and dug all four hooves in, stopping instantly.
“Away from the door!” she shouted in English. She had no idea whether the girl would understand it or not, but she hoped that even if she didn't, the girl's instinct would be to move as far away from the door as possible, knowing that someone potentially hostile was on the other side of it. She waited a few seconds to give the girl a chance to get clear, the old excitement of Bat Team Alpha filling her with an exhilaration she hadn't felt in twenty years. Then, she turned around and kicked out with both hind legs, slamming her hooves into the door. With a loud crack, the door split in a jagged line down the middle, both ends collapsing inward and rattling to the floor. Ice immediately scanned the entire room. A threat assessment that had been so drilled into her in Bat Team Alpha training that it was instinctual. But there was no one in the room except for a small Afghan girl sitting on a tattered bed pressed up against the wall opposite the door. There was a window on the wall above the bed, but a piece of plywood had been crudely hammered over it, denying the girl any ability to see outside of the room.
The girl opened her mouth and screamed again. She drew here knees up to her chest, scooting back as close to the wall as she could get, her eyes wide with fear.
“Don't be afraid. I'm gonna get you out of here and somewhere safe,” Ice said, trying to sound as calm and reassuring as possible. The girl stared at her, wrapping her arms around her knees as she tried to flatten herself further against the wall, still sitting on the bed.
Ice took several steps to the side, moving away from the door and leaving a clear path for the girl to escape if she wanted to. She hoped the girl would take it as a message that she meant her no harm. The girl continued to stare, but made no attempt to get off the bed. What was wrong with her? Why wasn’t she trying to escape? Ice’s stomach twisted as the girl shifted position, causing the long robe she wore to rise above her feet and reveal the metal rings around her ankles. The poor girl was chained to the bed! She had steel manacles locked around both of her feet. A short chain ran between them with only enough slack for her to shuffle, as if she were some kind of prisoner on a chain gang. She wouldn't have been able to walk correctly, much less run. Another short length of chain was attached to the middle of the first chain, the other end of which was attached to one leg of the bed. She quickly scanned the bed itself, finding that it was bolted to the wall and the floor. The length of the chain barely gave the girl enough room to walk a few paces away from the bed.
She looked over the girl again. Her brown hair was long and tangled into knots. It clearly had not been combed or brushed in weeks. The dirty, stained white robe was the only clothing she wore. Her skin was stretched over her face and hands like canvas stretched over a frame, revealing the details of her bones underneath – a clear sign of undernourishment. A volcano of anger smoked and bubbled inside of Ice. How could anyone do this to a child? With any luck, the police chief would show up right now. And if he did, she would kill him. She'd break his neck, or cave his skull in with a hoof. Or better yet, she'd give some truth to that vampire rumor. She'd tear his throat out of his neck with her fangs.
She took a few cautious steps towards the bed, waiting to see how the girl would react. The girl tried to push herself up closer to the wall, as if she hoped to be able to push a hole in it. But she didn't scream again. Ice moved a little faster. She didn't want to scare the poor girl anymore than she already was, but she had to get the two of them out of here as quickly as possible. If the two guards came back with reinforcements, Duncan wouldn't be able to hold them off.
But she had another problem. It had never occurred to her or to Duncan that the girl would be chained to the bed. How was she gonna get the girl out? She had no tools to cut the chain, nor did she have anything to pick the lock on the manacles with.
In desperation, she grabbed the chain going to the bed between her fangs. She bit down with all of her strength, pretending that the chain was the police chief's neck and she was trying to bite his head off the top of his body. The chain clanked and groaned as her jaw shook with the strain. Suddenly, the metal yielded, and the chain gave with a loud snap. She spit the chain out, ignoring the dirty, metallic taste in her mouth.
“Hold still,” she said to the girl. Then she took the chain binding her ankles together, and crunched down hard. Again, the chain groaned, then snapped. She spit out the bitter tasting metal. “Off the bed, and wait by the wall!” she commanded. The girl didn't hesitate, getting off of the bed and taking a moment to catch her balance. She smelled slightly less afraid now. Ice hoped she had earned the girl's trust by setting her free.
She jumped on the bed and turned around, slamming her rear hooves into the piece of plywood that had been nailed over the window. The plywood shattered along with the glass on the other side of the window, the pieces bursting outward as if she’d blown the window with a bundle of C-4. She took the flashlight in her mouth again, aimed it towards the copse of trees where Duncan was, and gave him the signal. Then, she turned around and jumped off the bed.
Let's go! And stay close to me!” she said to the girl. Ice resisted the urge to crowd the wall and scan the lower floor for activity before darting out of the room. Duncan had told her he'd throw two grenades in quick succession, causing two quick explosions to warn her if it wasn't safe or if anyone had entered the building. She had to move quick, and that meant she had to trust him, even though he was a human.
Quickly, she lead the girl out of the room and down the open hallway. As they ran down the steps, another explosion rocked the building as Duncan tossed another M84 to cover their exit. The girl screamed. Ice whipped her head around. The girl had turned and was running back up the stairs!
“No! The explosions are from my teammate! He's helping us get out!”
The girl seemed to understand and turned around, following her again. Ice turned her head forward and began racing down the stairs again. How weird it had sounded, to call a human her teammate. But she'd ponder that later. Something more urgent was bothering her: The girl's white robe. Even though it was dirty, it was still going to make her stand out like some kind of snowman running through the desert. But there was nothing to be done about that. Certainly, they didn't have time to stop and look for a different pair of clothes the girl could change into.
Ice took the last four stairs as if she were competing in a show jumping event, then raced out the door, glancing behind to make sure the girl was keeping up with her. So far, she was. She darted around the building and back towards the copse of trees. She wanted to gallop, but was forced to keep her speed at a trot so the girl could keep up. The white robe was making it hard for the girl to take long strides. Ice cursed under her breath. They were horribly exposed running across this field. Anyone with a rifle would have a hard time hitting her with her black clothing, but the girl … She could only hope anyone nearby would be too afraid to take a shot at the girl, knowing she was married to the police chief.
After what seemed like an eternity, they made their way into the grove of trees. But as Duncan had instructed, she didn't look for him. She just went straight through. It wasn't the most direct way to the chariot, but she had wanted to put some cover between them and the house. Twigs snapped under her hooves and leaves brushed passed her, branches pressing against her before breaking with a pop and falling to the ground. But it didn't matter how much noise she made now. Again, she checked behind herself. The girl was still keeping up with her trot, but her mouth was open and she was starting to gasp for air. The girl's malnutrition and poor physical condition were going to make it hard for her to get all the way to the chariot, Ice realized with a frown as they emerged from the other side of the grove of trees.
She heard a rumbling sound in the distance and looked to her left. Headlights, like twin shining eyes approached rapidly.
“Shit,” Ice cursed under her breath. She raised one forehoof into the air and looked behind her at the girl.
“Get on and hold on tight!” she ordered, forcing down her very strong distaste of the idea of actually letting a human ride her. The girl approached her, but then stopped, her face creased with uncertainty. “Get on, lean forward, and hold tight!” Ice ordered again.
As the girl hesitated, the shouting grew closer. That seemed to spur her into action, and she quickly climbed onto Ice's back. Ice waited until the girl had a firm grip around her neck. Then, she took off at a full gallop, her hooves pounding the ground, kicking up explosions of sand as if geysers were erupting around her hooves each time they hammered into the ground. The wind whipped at her muzzle, and her wrapped tail stood out straight behind her. She breathed heavily and a lather of sweat began to coat her fur as she charged through the desert. She took a quick glance behind her. The jeep was keeping pace with her, not losing any ground at all! The driver gunned the motor, the tires spun, dust rose from the wheels, creating beams in the headlights. The smell of diesel exhaust wafted to her nostrils like the scent of some kind of mechanical predator as she forced herself to move even faster, panting and huffing like the Canterlot Express climbing a steep hill.
“Luna damn it!” she cursed loudly. Twenty years ago, she would have been able to outrun a jeep on desert terrain, despite carrying the weight and aerodynamic anchor of a human on her back. She’d worked hard to keep herself in the same top iron pony like physical condition she’d been in when serving in Bat Team Alpha. But even with all of that, she had to admit one plain fact: She simply wasn’t twenty years old anymore.
Right now, the jeep wasn’t actually gaining on her, but once they reached the chariot, it would quickly start closing the distance that it could not close during the chase. She looked forward again, racing through the sand and over the dunes, flying across the desert with each long stride. Fortunately, the girl on top of her was light, because she rode like a sack of potatoes, her weight jarring against Ice's spine every time her hooves touched the ground. What kind of girl from some two-bit backwards village doesn’t know how to properly ride a horse? Ice thought with annoyance.
A bright flash like lightning illuminated the night, followed a split second later by an ear splitting explosion. Duncan! she thought with elation. But she knew the stun grenades would only slow the jeep down, not stop it.
Minutes passed that seemed like hours. The fountains of sand jetting up from under her hooves changed to clods of dirt and grass as she went from desert to pasture. She could sense the thermal radiation of the Crystal Guards now, guiding her like a homing beacon. She was close. Despite her near breathlessness she yelled out to the Crystal Guards, gasping for air between words.
“Get ready to … leave! No pre-flight checklist! Go as soon as … we're inside! Fly in the same … direction we're running towards!”
The chariot and the guards faded into her night vision like rapidly growing flames. The guards had already sprung into action, slipping their harnesses onto themselves and bolting themselves to the tongue of the chariot. Ice planned to gallop right up to the chariot and skid to an instant stop at the door. But then, she remembered the girl on her back. If she did that, no doubt she'd toss the girl right over her head and into the metal side of the chariot. So instead, she slowed to a canter, then to a trot, all the while knowing that slowing down was giving the jeep more time to gain on them. She slowed to a walk, then stopped in front of the door.
“Get off!” she yelled to the girl. The girl immediately complied. Ice threw open the chariot door with a forehoof. “Inside!” she yelled. But this time the girl hesitated as the roar of the jeep's engine grew closer. Ice raised a forehoof and roughly shoved the girl into the chariot, then climbed in herself and pulled the door shut. The wheels rumbled over the ground with a jolt, bouncing them both around as if they were inside of a washing machine. Two seconds later, the chariot pitched up and they were airborne. They banked sharply, turning and leveling out in the direction that Ice had been running.
A loud ping sounded from the back wall of the chariot, followed by a second as bullets ricocheted off the armor. The girl screamed in panic.
“It's okay. We're safe in here,” Ice reassured her. The chariot was armor plated and bullet proof, which is why Ice had told the guards to fly in the direction they had been running. That would put the chariot between the men from the jeep and the guards themselves, hopefully shielding them from any fire. They were vulnerable at the points their armor didn't cover.
A loud crack! rang through the chariot and the glass on the rear window formed a spiderweb pattern. Again, the girl screamed.
“The glass is bulletproof. We're safe,” Ice reassured her. The Crystal Guards accelerated rapidly, sending Ice and the girl sliding along the floor, until they slammed into the back wall. Two more loud pings rang out as bullets struck the armor plating. Then it was quiet as they quickly traveled out of range of the rifles. The chariot pitched up as they reached for altitude, updrafts from the dunes buffeting them with turbulence. Then, rather suddenly, the ride became smooth, as if they were gliding along a perfect sheet of ice on a winter pond.
Ice leaned back and relaxed, her heart still pounding and her breathing heavy from the long gallop. Sweat dripped from her fur and she foamed at the mouth like some rabid beast. But inside, she was smiling, filled with indescribable elation, like a hoofball star who had just won the international championship. She raised a forehoof, yanking off the head scarf and the scarf that was covering her muzzle, then shaking out her mane as if she’d just come out from a dip in the ocean. Then, she flicked her tail around, grabbing the tail wrap between her teeth and yanking it off, spitting it out like it was poison. She flicked her tail a couple of times, spreading the strands which had stuck together with a lather of sweat. She spit again, ejecting the taste of the vinyl tail wrap from her mouth, then smiled. They'd made it! And she'd proven that even without her wings, she still had what it took! Her internal celebration was interrupted by the sound of the girl sobbing. Some of her elation deflated like a helium balloon. In her brief moment of celebration, she'd forgotten the poor girl was even there.
“You're safe now,” she said in the most comforting tone she could manage, moving over to the girl and putting a forehoof around her. “He can't hurt you anymore. And no one will hurt you where we are going.”
The girl raised her arm, wiping the back of her hand over her eyes, brushing away her tears. She sniffed once, then smiled.
“Manana,” was all she said in response. Ice wasn't sure what the word meant, but assumed it probably meant ‘thank you’. The single word said enough for an entire paragraph, though. It was the first word the girl had said, and she had said it calmly and with a smile on her face. The girl leaned her head against Ice's side, and closed her eyes. Within minutes, she had fallen asleep.
Ice smiled, her breathing and heart rate having returned to normal. This was probably the first time the girl had been able to sleep knowing she was safe. To sleep without fear of knowing that soon, he would come home. And when he did, her nightly torment would start again. Still, the girl's road to recovery would be long and fraught with potholes. But at least now, recovery could begin. Ice said a quick prayer to Luna, asking her to ward the girl's dreams. The girl would no doubt have nightmares about her ordeal at some point. But not this night. This night, she was sure Luna would ensure the girl a peaceful rest.
Ice allowed the full sense of elation to return to her again. The thought was in the back of her mind that she was going to have a lot of explaining to do when she got back about how “don't take unnecessary risks” had turned into breaking into a guarded building, running from men with guns, and bringing back a chariot with bullet damage. But she wasn't going to let any of that taint her victory. Not even the slightest little bit.
XIV
The tension flowed out of Ice as they flew further away from Afghanistan and closer to the Crystal Empire. It was as if a giant rubber band were stretched between her and Crystal City and the strain was slowly going out of it as they flew closer to home. The tension had been leaving in steps. The first step had happened when they'd flown out of range of the guards who had been shooting at them with their rifles. The second step had happened when they had left Afghan airspace. The third step had happened when they were over the coast. The fourth step wouldn't happen until they crossed into Crystal Empire airspace. That would happen in about fifteen minutes.
The truth was she probably could have stopped worrying a long time ago. Theoretically, they could be intercepted by American fighter jets until they were safely inside Crystal Empire airspace, and with no Pegasus Guard interceptors to engage those fighters, they were sitting ducks in the chariot. But in reality, it was extremely unlikely that would happen. Even if the guards had told the American military what had happened, it was very unlikely they would get involved in what was essentially a local kidnapping case. And that was especially true if they had to engage the chariot in international airspace. And even if the American Air Force or Navy did want to get involved, it was unlikely they'd be able to find the chariot anyway. They were flying low to avoid radar contact. And they didn't make a good radar target anyway. That was something the Americans had learned all too well during the Contact War. They had had an extremely hard time detecting Pegasus Guard flights or Bat Team Alpha flights on radar. Living bodies absorb microwave radiation instead of reflecting it back, which made ponies very bad radar targets. The chariot would make a slightly better target, but not by much. Anyway, just a few more minutes and they'd be home free.
She looked over at the girl again. Her eyes were still closed and her head still rested on Ice's flank. She'd been sleeping the entire trip. That was just as well, since Ice didn't want to talk to her anyway. She had to be extremely careful to avoid tainting her witness. If there were any hint at all that she had influenced the girl, or had somehow coached her in what to say, then she'd be useless as a witness. It would be better if she didn't talk to the girl at all. She had no experience dealing with young sexual assault victims anyway. Far better to hoof her over to one of the criminal psychiatrists who had experience working with that kind of thing.
The chariot pitched up into a climb. That would mean they had crossed over the coast and were inside Crystal Empire airspace. The guards no longer had to be concerned with being spotted on radar. The last of the tension left her like the last remnant of fog evaporating from a meadow in the morning. But it would still be another two hours before they reached Crystal City. The tension that had left her was being replaced by the lesser tension of trying to figure out how she was going to explain the bullet damage to the chariot. She turned her gaze to the side window. The curtains were shut, allowing no direct light in, but a golden rim surrounded the edge suggesting it a was a clear and sunny afternoon. She checked her watch, confirming that it was mid-afternoon. Then, she rested her head on her forehooves and allowed herself to nap the rest of the flight.
The feel of the chariot slowing down and the pressure changing in her ears brought her out of her light slumber. She gently placed a forehoof on the girl's shoulder.
“We've arrived at Crystal City. We'll be landing soon.”
The girl opened her eyes and raised her arm, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with the palm of her hand. Then she sat up. Ice reached into her saddlebag and pulled out her UV blocking sunglasses and put them on. Then, she opened the curtains on the window, letting the golden shaft of sunlight stream through. She nodded toward the window, and the girl moved to look out of it. The girl's eyes were awe stricken, widening like saucers as she stared at the capitol city below them. A wide smile formed on her lips as she glued her face to the window, her hands pressing up against the walls on either side of it to support herself. Ice had never seen Crystal City from the air herself, and she could only imagine how majestic the city must look from up here with Celestia's golden sunlight reflecting off the crystal buildings. A tear of joy fell from the girl's eye and ran down her cheek.
Ice fought the urge to look out the window herself. She didn't want Crystal City to end up like Canterlot. She didn't want her head loaded with aerial pictures of the city so that every time she walked down the street and saw a building, her mind would visualize what it looked like from the air. That had been part of the reason she'd left Canterlot, after all. Because she couldn't even go outside without being constantly reminded that she could no longer fly over the great city.
But then, she remembered the dream. The words of Cadance and Shining Armor. Fuck it, she thought to herself, turning to the other side of the chariot and pulling open the curtains. What she saw filled her with a sense of awe.
The majestic city below sparkled like a crystal pool. The prism effect of the crystals reflected light in all the colors of the rainbow so that it was like looking at a giant, three dimensional kaleidoscope. For as far as she could see, the buildings of the great city sparkled and twinkled as they moved over them, like thousands of stars shining in the sky. It was as if they entire city were lit up with millions of lights for Hearth's Warming. Even the streets sparkled like pristine mountain rivers flowing through the city, connecting its various districts.
The chariot banked as it flew the approach pattern for Crystal Skyport, causing the breathtaking view of Crystal Palace to swing into view. Its tall spires reached for the sky like giant icicles, silver, white, and gold light dancing off of them in all directions. The flags of the Crystal Empire stood proudly on top the spires, galloping in the wind. The walls of the castle itself were like giant frozen waterfalls, reflecting the blue sky and clouds in colorful, sparkling patterns like a mirror. Ice's fear of having a montage of aerial photos permanently burned into her mind quickly gave way to regret. Regret that she had lived here for ten years and had never known how majestic and stunning the city she called her home looked from the air.
The window wasn't large enough for two faces to look out of, and part of Ice wanted to be selfish and cherish the view of the palace for as long as she could. Instead, she forced herself away from the window and turned around, tapping the girl on the shoulder and motioning her over. The girl did so, her smile getting even wider as she plastered her face to the glass, her eyes fixed on the royal palace and sparkling with tears. Ice moved away a bit to give the girl more room. As she did, she realized there was something even more beautiful than the view outside the window. And that was the expression on the young girl's face. At least for now, the girl was able to focus on the wonder of Crystal City and forget about everything that had happened to her back in her village. Ice's vision blurred as salty tears started to fill her own eyes. Never had she actually thought she'd care about any human.
But now, seeing the happiness that the mere sight of Crystal City brought to the girl had shattered the last remaining walls of the fortress she'd spent twenty years building in her mind. And the ghosts that had long tormented her – that she had long feared would overrun her defenses and shatter her mind when that fortress fell – were no where to be found. There were no enemies, no human soldiers rushing in to destroy her. There was only a vulnerable, tortured human girl who she had saved and given hope to. Given the chance of a happy life to. A life free of daily torment. A human girl who would never again be chained to a bed, and never again have to wake up to the face of a rapist hovering over her. Again, she was reminded of why she'd gone to law school. It was for moments like this. But now, she also knew why she had originally joined Bat Team Alpha. Yes, it was true she'd learned dozens of different ways to instantly kill someone with her bare hooves and fangs. But the true reason she'd joined the elite unit was not to take life, but to save it. She was certain that at some point in the distant past, she had known that. But after her injury, she had forgotten it, and it had become all about killing and vengeance. Twenty years ago, she had forgotten who she truly was. Oh, sure, her true self had come out in brief spurts, like tiny breaks in the clouds on a stormy day. But it had taken a defenseless and vulnerable human girl to truly restore her.
A yellow light illuminated on the forward wall, bringing her out of her moment of bliss. She tapped the girl gently on the shoulder to get her attention. The girl turned her head to look at her.
“Yellow light means we are about to land. We need to get away from the windows and into the landing harnesses.” She wasn't sure exactly how much English the girl could understand, but she demonstrated by sitting on her haunches and sliding both her hind legs into a set of harnesses, then looping both her forelegs through another harness. The harness system wasn't designed for securing humans, but they were able to improvise by having the girl sit on the floor and place her legs through the harness, then lean forward and hold onto the second harness with her hands. It wasn't ideal, but at least it would keep her from flying around the cabin in the unlikely event of a botched landing – an event made just a little bit more probable by the fact that it was possible one of shots fired by the guards could have damaged a wheel or axle on the chariot. They wouldn't know until they touched down.
As they neared the ground, the chariot slowed down and pitched up to maintain a slow rate of descent. The guards pulling it were coming in slower than normal, and at a lower descent rate than usual. No doubt, they had also considered the possibility of damage to the chariot's undercarriage, and wanted to land as slowly and lightly as possible in case it collapsed. But she barely felt it when the wheels touched the ground a few seconds later and the chariot gradually rolled to a stop. Any fears about damage to the undercarriage had been unfounded. Or if it was damaged, the guards had landed softly enough to prevent it from collapsing.
Ice undid her harness, then helped the girl undo hers. She looked out the window. A white chariot painted with a red heart with a bandage across it waited next to them, along with two emergency medical ponies. Fortunately, the medical ponies' help wasn’t needed.
They’d landed in the military portion of Crystal Skyport. Since there were no civilians milling around this portion of the skyport, it was possible to bring things in and out of the Crystal Empire with relative secrecy. The bullet damage to the chariot would have attracted unwanted attention. And if anypony had seen a human girl exit the chariot accompanied by no one other than a thestral, the press would have descended on her like Equestrians storming the gates of Sweet Apple Acres on the first day of cider season. It’s not like it’d be hard to figure out which thestral had arrived with the girl. She was the only one in the city who met the description of a wingless bat pony mare. And questions about why the girl was in Equestria, and why they had arrived in a bullet damaged chariot would be … awkward to say the least.
She was about to open the door, but then winced and stopped. Princess Cadance and Prince Shining Armor were both marching towards the chariot in a stiff-legged military-like fashion. Somepony must have notified them we were coming. But even worse, if the two Royals had been notified, that must have meant Cadance had specifically requested to be notified once the skyport had word that they were approaching. Ice had been gone longer than she'd intended, and there had been no opportunity to send a message back to Crystal Palace letting them know why she'd been delayed. Shining Armor's expression was unremarkable, as if the marks on the chariot where the bullets had hit and the spiderweb cracks on the rear window were all in a day's work. But Cadance wore a mixed expression of concern, relief, and anger. The Crystal Princess lowered her ears and narrowed her eyes, lashing her tail as she approached the chariot. Well, time to face the music, Ice thought to herself as she pushed open the door and stepped out. The girl, however, seemed unnerved by the activity outside and pushed herself back to the corner of the chariot, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Ice's heart ached as she watched the girl revert to the exact same behavior she had demonstrated in the house, pulling her knees up, and retreating as close as she could to the wall. She quickly closed the door, shielding the girl from the tail chewing she expected to get from Cadance. She bowed to the two Royals as they stopped a few feet from her. It was Cadance who spoke first. Her voice was filled with genuine concern, like a mother who had been worrying over a missing filly. But it was impossible to miss the undertone of anger in it.
“I was getting worried, Ice Moon. And why does the chariot have bullet damage? I thought I told you not to take risks.”
“I apologize, Your Majesty,” Ice said as she came up from her bow. “It took me longer than I intended to find someone who was willing to talk. And with all due respect, you told me not to take unnecessary risks. These risks were necessary to rescue the girl.”
“Girl? What girl?” Cadance asked, her expression looking confused. She looked briefly at Shining Armor, who simply shrugged as if he had no idea what Ice was talking about either. So neither one of them remembers the dream. Had Ice dreamt the entire thing, then? But at least part of it had to have been real. After all, they had told her she hadn't blown it, and then Duncan had shown up at her door shortly after and all but admitted that Luna had visited him and told him to go to the inn as well as told him what room she was staying in. There was no way Duncan could have dreamt that unless Luna really had walked in his dreams. And the timing had been too coincidental for her own dream to have been just a normal dream. Anyway, there would be time to worry about that latter, if it was ever worth worrying about.
“I brought back a young girl. She's a witness. And a … well, a refugee. It's a bit of a long story and I'll tell you the whole thing during debriefing.”
Ice turned around and opened the door to the chariot again. The girl continued to cower against the corner of the back wall. “It's okay. You can come out,” Ice said in the most gentle voice she could muster.
Timidly, the girl lowered her knees from her chest, then crawled out of the chariot. Upon seeing the Prince and Princess, she recoiled slightly, looking to Ice, then back at the Royals, as if she were unsure what she should do next. Finally, she gave a bow at the waist. Cadance blinked in response, her expression confused for a moment before she recovered.
“Please, there's no need for that. I bid you welcome to the Crystal Empire” she said to the girl. The girl rose from her bow, and smiled, the love and compassion in the Crystal Princess's voice appearing to put her immediately at ease. Cadance turned to Shining Armor. “Will you please take her to the palace, get her a guest room, a warm bath, clean clothes, and food, while I talk with Ice Moon?”
Shining Armor took a step towards the girl and smiled. “I'll –”
He stopped as the girl jumped backwards, her eyes wide with fear. She quickly ran behind Ice, using her as a shield. A sudden scent of terror flowed off the girl in waves. Ice frowned, and put a forehoof gently on the girl's shoulder before turning her attention back to the two Royals.
“She has a strong reason to be afraid of males,” Ice said, her stomach trying to twist around itself as she thought of everything the poor girl must have been through. “It would be better if you took her, Your Majesty,” she said nodding at Cadance. “But take her to a locksmith first and get the shackles removed from her ankles. I don't have the key for them. And it's very important that you not talk to her about her life in Afghanistan. She may have important testimony that cannot be tainted. I want her to have a psychiatry consult with Doctor Fjord as soon as possible. Both to talk to her about her experiences, and to help her deal with them. The girl … she has a long road of recovery ahead of her.” Ice again felt sick, thinking about the ordeals the girl had been through. Again, she found her mind thinking of all the ways she could kill, and would like to kill, the man who had done this to the poor girl.
Cadance raised a concerned eyebrow when Ice mentioned the shackles. The girl's long robe covered them, so the Crystal Princess wouldn't have known about them until Ice mentioned them. Cadance's expression then turned to a mixture of confusion and concern, but she nodded once. The girl slowly stepped out from behind Ice, and Cadance knelt down on all four of her legs to put herself at the young girl's level.
“My name is Princess Cadance,” she spoke in a loving and reassuring tone. “But you can just call me Cadance, or Cady if you'd like. I'm the co-ruler of the Crystal Empire, and I promise you'll be safe here and taken care of. No one will hurt you.”
The girl looked at Cadance for a few moments, then turned her gaze to Ice for reassurance. The girl's trust in her brought a warm feeling to Ice, like hot cocoa on a frigid winter day. She gave a comforting smile to the girl. “Cadance is going to get you a bath, some clean clothes and something to eat. Then she's going to take you to a mare I want you to meet. Someone who will take care of you and help you.” The girl still hadn't spoken much, and Ice still had no idea how much English she understood. However, the fact that she had quickly obeyed Ice's instructions when they were fleeing the police chief's house was encouraging.
The girl slowly took a step towards Cadance. Then moved more quickly. She stopped in front of the alicorn, and hesitated, then timidly lifted her right arm and placed her hand on Cadance's shoulder. As she felt the alicorn's warm fur, she smiled, the touch seeming to have wiped away her fear. Cadance rose from her kneeling position and turned towards the royal chariot that had brought her and Shining Armor here, the girl walking along side of her.
“After we get you cleaned up a bit, I'll take you to the royal dining room,” she said warmly. “My personal chef will make you something to eat. He makes the finest strawberry tarts in the world. Would you like that?”
Ice smiled slightly to herself as the girl nodded and Cadance continued to talk comfortingly to her. Then she turned her attention to Shining Armor. He was staring at his wife and the girl, wearing a dejected look on his face, as if some foal had run away from him screaming that he was some kind of monster.
“It was nothing you did, My Lord. She's had a very rough time. It will become clear when we debrief,” Ice said, trying to comfort the poor stallion. Shining Armor turned to her and returned her smile, but then he frowned again as he watched Cadance and the girl board the royal chariot.
“It seems my wife has stolen our ride,” he said with a corny expression. “I guess we'll have to take a cab.” He turned and trotted towards the civilian portion of the skyport, which was a significant trek from the military area. Ice turned back towards the chariot intending to grab her two saddlebags, only to remember that she'd left them at the hotel in Afghanistan. Her entire wardrobe had been in those bags! She frowned and turned around again, cantering for a moment to catch up with Shining Armor before slowing to a trot and falling in slightly behind him. The Prince turned his head and looked back over his shoulder at her.
He said, “I should warn you that there are quite a few reporters camped out in front of your office. We tried to keep a lid on things, but the story broke somehow. We suspect our own news agents heard the story from American media.”
So much for keeping a lid on things then, Ice thought with a frown. She hated reporters. Well, she didn't hate reporters, but she hated talking to the press. By nature, thestrals weren't the most sociable of ponies to begin with. They preferred small, intimate gatherings rather than large crowds and mass media. But also, she had had it drilled into her that you did not talk to the press. Not ever. It was strictly taboo. Of course, that was a holdout from her Bat Team Alpha days, and it didn't really apply now that she was a legal agent. Now, it was inevitable that she would have to talk to the press sometimes.
But for the last twenty years, there had been another factor at work: Ice was slightly agoraphobic. She'd developed a self-consciousness about her lack of wings, and because of that, she hated being on camera, or having her picture in newspapers. She always thought the ponies watching were probably focused on where her wings should be, thinking she was some kind of deformed mutant, staring at her as if she were some kind of unknown monster who had just walked out of Everfree Forest. Rationally, she knew that really made no sense. The millions of ponies who would tune into the Crystal Nightly News would do so because this was turning into a major international story. Not because they wanted to gawk at her missing wings. But phobias didn't listen to rational thinking.
At least she was reasonably certain nopony had seen the damaged chariot or the human girl. She’d be able to avoid the most difficult questions.
“Just pony press?” she asked.
“For now. But human news agencies are hammering us with requests for press visas. CNN, Fox News, ABC, NBC, CBS, BBC, Al Jazeera. All the big names. So far, we've denied all of the requests, but I don't know how long that's going to continue. The United Nations is asking for more transparency because they want guarantees that the prisoners' human rights aren't being violated.”
“If the UN is worried about transparency, and human rights, perhaps they should be focused more on the American military. General Faulkner of the Marine Corps has already labeled the prisoners as guilty, despite the fact that there's been no trial. And JAG has been withholding evidence from me and falsifying personnel records they've sent me. And besides, certainly the UN must understand that I can't discuss an active investigation with the press, and that I would advise the prisoners not to talk to the press either because anything they say could potentially be used to incriminate them. So with all due respect, My Lord, tell the UN to go jump in a pile of horse manure.”
“That's what we have been telling them … in slightly more diplomatic terms, of course. But at the same time, we do want to use this opportunity to show the humans that our justice system is fair. Some human nations have doubts because we don't have juries or defense attorneys. But we are trying to balance our desire to show that our system works, with our desire not to turn this whole thing into a media feeding frenzy.”
Ice nodded. “Well, given what I learned on my trip, I strongly suspect the Americans, or at least the American military, will be singing a different tune about wanting transparency. They are probably going to want this whole thing as hush, hush as possible.”
Shining Armor's ears perked up. “Teasing me, are you? Never mind. Say no more until we get to where we can talk safely.”
“Of course, My Lord.”
The two of them arrived at the taxi stand and walked to the front of the line where a grizzled crystal earth pony stallion wearing a checkered flannel vest and a tan newsboy hat stood with one leg cocked and his head lowered, eyes closed as he snored lightly. His tail flicked an insect off his flank, but he didn't wake. Shining Armor glanced back at Ice with an amused smirk on his face before stopping next to the cabbie.
“Slow day?” Shining Armor asked loudly. The cabbie's eyes shot open and he nearly kicked out his hind legs in surprise, turning his head. Ice didn't think his eyes could get any wider, but they did when he saw who had addressed him.
“My Lord!” he said, awkwardly trying to bow, which was quite a feat of athleticism given he was harnessed to his cab.
“Relax,” Shining Armor said with a good-natured laugh. “We need a ride to the palace.”
“My Lord?” The cabbie's muzzle wrinkled in confusion, no doubt trying to figure out why the Prince of the entire Crystal Empire would need a common cab to take him anywhere.
“Princess Cadance had to return to the palace on a special errand, leaving me and my guest stranded here,” Shining Armor explained. It was basically the truth, told in a way that wouldn't start any rumors.
“My Lord?” the cabbie asked again, looking just as confused as ever. Shining Armor shook his head and opened the door to the cab himself, holding it for Ice. She climbed inside, giving him a nod of thanks. He climbed in and sat next to her, pulling the door shut with a forehoof.
“To the palace, please,” he said. Finally, the cabbie seemed to come out of his semi-dazed state. He started at a walk, turning towards the skyport's exit, then turned down one of the crystal streets, speeding up to a trot towards the palace. The two of them said nothing during the trip. It would be better to wait until they were inside a debriefing room where no ears could hear, and no rumors could start circulating to the press.
After a short ride, they arrived at the palace gate. The cab stopped to the sound of muffled arguing between the cabbie and the guards at the gate. The cab windows were tinted such that it wasn't possible to see into the cab from outside. Apparently, the guards didn't believe the cabbie that he had the Prince inside his cab. Who could blame them? Shining Armor opened the door, and showed himself to the guards. Like the cabbie, the guards' faces became a cloud of confusion, but after a few seconds, the senior guard motioned them through the gate. The cabbie moved at a trot until they reached the entrance to the palace, then stopped. Shining Armor opened the door and climbed out, Ice following him. The Prince pulled some bits from the small saddlebag he wore and gave them to the cabbie.
The cabbie's eyes went wide and he recoiled as if he thought the bits might jump up and bite him.
“I couldn't possibly, My Lord … I mean for Royalty … consider the trip complementary.”
“Nonsense,” Shining Armor said with a shake of his head. “I insist on paying just as every other pony would. If you really want to give a free cab ride to somepony, give it to somepony who actually needs it.”
“As you wish, My Lord,” the cabbie responded with a respectful bow of his head, then took the bits. “Thank … thank you for your business.”
“You're welcome,” Shining Armor said with a smile. Then, he lead Ice inside the palace.
He said, “I would take you to the receiving room in the royal apartment, but I suspect Cady and the girl you brought with you might be there. So we'll have to settle for one of the other meeting rooms.”
“Of course, My Lord,” Ice said, continuing to follow him. Only half of her mind was there, though. The other half was busy thinking about Reid. She couldn't wait to tell him what she'd found out. That she had evidence that under the Uniform Code of Pony Justice, this might be a justified killing because it was done to stop serious imminent physical harm to a child. Well, the Uniform Code of Pony Justice used the words colt, filly, or foal, but the spirit of the law was clear. A human child would receive the same protections under the Uniform Code that a colt, filly, or foal would. Her only regret was that she wouldn't be able to see the expression on Reid's face when she told him that his attempts to withhold information from her had failed. Oh yes, she'd won this battle. It was time for Reid to throw up his hands and surrender.
Shining Armor stopped in front of a nondescript door and opened it, motioning her inside. She stepped in and he followed, closing the door behind them. The room they were in was small, but well furnished. It consisted of a round crystal table in the center of the room, with a smooth see-through top that was as clear as the water in one of the Crystal Palace's fountains. Plush, crimson sitting cushions surrounded the table on four sides, and a pink quartz fireplace adorned the wall of the room, although it was unlit in the summer heat. Wall mounted lamps with crystal reflectors to make them look brighter than they actually were illuminated the room. Tapestries showing the flags of various nations friendly to the Crystal Empire adorned the walls, intended to make visiting dignitaries feel more comfortable. There were tapestries depicting the flags of Equestria, Saddle Arabia, Griffonstone, Germaney, Prance, the Forest Kingdom of Thicket, Dimondia, The Dragon Lands – which had been added thanks to improved relations after Princess Ember became the ruling monarch there and established a close friendship with Twilight's assistant, Spike – and the newest flag, the Changeling Kingdom, which had been added after the dethroning of Queen Chrysalis and the coronation of King Thorax who was much more friendly to pony interests. So far, there were no flags of any human nations. Less than two days ago, Ice had hoped it would always stay that way; that no human flags would ever be displayed anywhere in the Crystal Empire or in Equestria. But now … well, despite the fact that she was warming up to some humans, she wasn't quite willing to accept the idea that the flags of any human nations should be hanging anywhere in Crystal Palace. But at least now, she was willing to entertain the idea that maybe a time would come when she would be okay with it for at least some human nations.
She sat down at the table, Shining Armor sitting across from her, and proceeded to tell him everything that had happened on her trip to Afghanistan. He nodded a few times and flattened his ears in disgust when she told him Duncan's story about the militia commander's activities with young boys and girls. When she told him about how she had found the girl chained to the police chief's bed, he bristled, anger permeating his scent. Based on his expression, he would have gladly helped her kill the police chief if they had come upon him, and then helped her dispose of the body afterward, possibly by magicking it into oblivion.
“Of course, right now, I don't have any proof. But I'm hoping that's what the girl will be able to provide,” she said after she had finished telling him of what she had learned. “The militia commanders basically own the police over there, and are tight with the police chiefs. If the girl can implicate the militia commander, that will validate Duncan's story enough in my mind to create reasonable doubt that this was cold blooded murder. And if the killing was done to protect a child from imminent serious harm, then it's a justified killing under the Uniform Code of Pony Justice, and I'd be inclined to recommend asylum.”
Shining Armor nodded once. “But if, as Duncan said, as disgusting as the militia commander's actions were, they were not a crime under local village Afghan law, then it's still a vigilante killing, isn't it? Aren't the prisoners bound to follow local law in the country they are in at the time?” Shining Armor asked. Ice knew the Prince wasn't defending the militia commander's actions. He just wasn't educated in the law like she was, and wanted to make sure they actually had a valid reason for refusing extradition and granting asylum.
“Technically, it would make them vigilantes, yes,” Ice responded. “But the Uniform Code of Pony Justice allows me to consider whether something would be a crime under our own laws when I decide whether or not to recommend extradition or asylum. And in this case, if true, the actions of the militia commander were such an egregious violation of everything we hold sacred, that we would be perfectly justified under the Uniform Code for refusing extradition and granting asylum.”
Shining Armor was silent for a few moments as he processed the information before responding.
“Well, it sounds like you've done excellent work. And I think you've pretty much justified the bullet damage to the chariot.”
“Thank you, My Lord,” she said, feeling a sense of pride. It seemed clear to her now that Shining Armor remembered nothing of the dream that Luna had placed him in. Given his reactions to her story, all of this had been new to him. Briefly, she considered asking him whether he remembered meeting her in the dream, but she decided against it. It had obviously been very difficult for him to tell her about how his hatred for Chrysalis had become so obsessive that it had nearly destroyed his relationship with Cadance. If he didn't remember telling her about that, there was no reason for her to dig it up. But there was still the issue of the girl to deal with.
“The girl will need asylum as a refugee, My Lord. At least temporarily until we can figure out what to do with her.”
“It's granted.”
“Not even going to consult with Cadance on it first, My Lord?” Ice asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Nope. No reason to. She'd grant the request anyway if I did consult with her. But what are your long term plans for the girl once Doctor Fjord has interviewed her?”
Ice took a deep breath, let it out slowly as she considered before responding. “I don't know. I hadn't thought much beyond getting her out of that Tartarus hole village, and I obviously have no inclination to send her back there. She's going to have a difficult recovery, and she's going to need professional psychiatric help. We could put her in foster care here in Crystal City, but ideally it would be best if she were raised by human foster parents.
“What about bringing her parents here as refugees too?”
“I only saw her father briefly, and I know nothing about him. I never saw her mother at all. But if her parents subscribe to the local culture and customs as Duncan put it, then it's not a culture I want her being raised in. I don't want her growing up thinking it's normal or acceptable for young girls to be put in the situation she was put in.”
“I completely agree. We'll get a social worker assigned to her and see what we can do.”
Ice lowered her ears, looking at the floor with a sinking feeling in her stomach.
“You see a problem?” Shining Armor asked. Ice looked up at him again.
“I'm afraid we might have a hard time finding any human nations that want to touch this, My Lord. It's too hot. After all, being completely honest about what happened, I kidnapped the girl, whisked her away from her legal guardian, and illegally took her out of the country. It may not matter much that her legal guardian had her chained to a bed, or that the kidnapping was not against the girl's will. It's still awfully radioactive from an international diplomacy standpoint.” Ice returned her gaze to the floor. “And even if I thought we could find a human nation willing to get involved, I’m not even sure we should try. I’m worried that anywhere we send her might just end up shipping her back to her Afghan village because of international pressure.”
“Well, whether it was technically kidnapping or not, you did the right thing in getting her out of there, Ice. Don't ever second-guess yourself on that.”
“Thank you, My Lord.” The sinking feeling in Ice's chest was replaced with a feeling of satisfaction.
“Anyway, at least until the whole issue with the human prisoners is resolved, we're going to treat this like an official Bat Team Alpha mission. If anyone asks about the girl, we're going to say we have no idea who kidnapped her or why, and we have no idea where she is, but we are performing an investigation to try to locate her. In the meantime, the girl will stay in the palace with Cadance and me. We will be her foster parents for now.”
“Thank you, My Lord. That's very kind of you.” Again, Ice found herself touched by the humbleness of the two Crystal Empire Royals. That they were willing to take in an orphaned human girl from some no-name village in Afghanistan. But then, Cadance herself had been an orphan and had been taken in by Celestia herself. It was no wonder she had that kind of compassion for other orphans.
“So what was the weather like there? Cold?” Shining Armor asked. Ice tried to suppress a frown. Shining Armor did have a tendency to be rather talkative. It came from a desire to make the commoners feel comfortable, she thought. To make them feel like they could carry on a normal conversation with him, and that he was interested in their daily lives, experiences, and so on. But sometimes, he tried a little bit too hard. Normally, she wouldn't have minded indulging in casual conversation with him. But she really wanted to get back to her office and confront Reid with the new information.
She said, “It was colder, than I thought it would be. I'd love to stay and talk more, My Lord, but I have a lot of work to do on the case with the new information. But perhaps I can tell you more about Afghanistan when we've wrapped this up?”
“Ah. Of course. I'll not keep you, then.” He smiled a slightly sheepish smile. He was well aware of his own tendency to draw out conversations. Then, he stood up from his sitting cushion and walked to the door. Ice followed. “I'll walk you to the castle entrance.”
“Thank you, My Lord,” she said, smiling, as she followed him out of the meeting room.
XV
Ice made her way towards her office at a fast trot once she'd left the palace courtyard, but as she approached the steps, she stopped. Shining Armor hadn’t been kidding when he’d said there were reporters camped outside. There were dozens of them, representing every city, town, and small village in both the Crystal Empire and Equestria. And it wasn't just ponies. Kallisto, a reporter from the Voice of Griffonstone was there as well. The tawny colored female griffon was talking to Ink Star, a cobalt blue earth pony stallion from the Manehattan Star. And there was Al-Karim, the brown stallion from the Saddle Arabian Times talking with Mystrium, the changeling female from the Empire Buzz. She wasn't even in disguise. Even representatives of student newspapers were there. She recognized Featherweight with his camera, a colt who had gained some notoriety for an incident a few years back where he had turned out to be the source of some unflattering photos of Princess Celestia that had appeared in the Ponyville school's student newspaper. How had he gotten here all the way here from Ponyville? Probably stowed himself away in a baggage car of one of the trains, she thought. She made a mental note to have a message sent to his parents. Although hopefully he'd at least had the sense to leave them a note. Ice took a deep breath and let it out, then approached the steps slowly.
Immediately, all heads turned her away, and the mob of reporters descended on her like a clan of rabid hyenas. The crowd erupted in a war of voices, each one trying to make themselves heard over the others. Ice shoved her way through the rabble, bombarded from the left and right with “Can you tell us,” and “What can you say about,” and “why is this”, and “How did the,” questions. She ignored all of them, continuing to work away through the maze of reporters. When one particular pony got a little aggressive, she turned and flank-checked him, shoving him to the side. Eventually, she managed to burrow her way to the door, where she turned around and raised a hoof, calling for quiet. The barrage of questions gradually slowed and the noise level faded as if the volume were being turned down on a stereo. When it was quiet, she spoke.
“I appreciate the interest all of you have in this case,” she lied, making a strong effort to keep sarcasm out of her voice. “However, given the sensitive nature of this issue, and the fact that this is an ongoing investigation, I can make no comments, nor can I answer any questions at this time.”
She turned around and opened the door as the volume knob on the mob of reporters immediately went up to full. All reporters had speech comprehension problems. She was sure of it. It was embedded in genes that made somepony want to become a reporter. It didn't matter how many ways you told a reporter that you couldn’t make any comments or answer any questions. They still continued to ask questions anyway, as if they thought you were just joking, or flat out could not comprehend what you had just told them.
She stepped inside and closed the door, the bombardment of questions becoming a dull muffle, then dissipating altogether as the reporters went back to talking with each other when it became obvious she wasn't coming back out to talk with them. A strong part of her wanted to ask the Crystal Guard to clear them out, but the reporters had a right to assemble outside of the office. As long as they didn't try to come inside the building, and as long as they didn't interfere with her work, there was nothing the Guard could do about it. If only it were winter, she wished sadistically. It would serve them right to have to camp outside in that. Al-Karim would probably pack up and go home. His desert acclimated hide probably wouldn’t be able to tolerate the bitter arctic cold of a Crystal Empire winter. Neither could the griffon, changeling, or even most of the ponies from Equestria (the southern ponies as most Crystal Ponies called them) for that matter.
As she made her way to her office, she passed several other ponies in the hall, most of them doing a double-take and wrinkling up their muzzles a bit before politely greeting her as they saw her. She almost never came into the office during the day, and most of the ponies who worked there had already gone home by the time she arrived. She wasn't used to so much bustle around the office building, and it made her slightly uncomfortable. Thestrals, by nature, were not the most social of ponies. Nevertheless, she nodded courteously and returned their greetings. The surprised glances, she could understand, but what was the muzzle wrinkling about?
“So you survived the sharks outside, huh?” A crystal earth pony mare whose name she didn't know said. “Seems like they are out for blood.”
“Can I dye your fur gray, put some fake vampire fangs in your mouth, and shove you out there as a decoy? I can probably find some at the bit store left over from Nightmare Night.”
The crystal pony gave her a questioning look for a few moments. “I think I'll pass,” she deadpanned before continuing on her way. Ice shook her head when the other pony had passed her. Sun worshipers just didn't understand thestral humor.
She made her way to her office, greeting the other ponies who worked in her department before going in and closing the door, the room becoming a peaceful sanctuary and shutting out the commotion outside. There was an envelope from Aspen on her desk. She opened it and dumped the contents on the surface. It was the report from the Pegasus Guard. They had been able to recover the data from the flight data recorder. She opened her filing cabinet, pulling out the file on the case and removing the statements Reid had sent her from the air traffic controller, scanning over the time they claimed the C-130 had left the field, the time it entered its death dive and dropped off radar, and the time it reappeared well away from where it should have been. Her eyes scanned back and forth between the controller's report and the report from the aircraft's flight data recorder. The times matched up exactly. It was disappointing, but not unexpected. And it didn't matter much anymore anyway. She didn't need to find time discrepancies. Not with the new information she'd gathered on her little hunting trip to Afghanistan. She added the flight data recorder report to the ever growing stack of documents in the case folder, which by this point, was stretching at the seams like Bulk Biceps trying to fit into a bikini. It'd be time to start a second folder soon. She placed the bulging folder back in the filing cabinet and flicked the drawer shut with a forehoof, then pulled a sheet of memo paper from the pad on her desk and wrote a memo to Doctor Fjord informing her of the girl’s situation, and the information she needed. Specifically, that she hoped the girl would have some information to incriminate the now deceased militia commander and to validate Duncan’s claims about him. When she finished, she slid the memo into a folder, then stepped out of her office and went out in the hall, stopping at the row of internal mailboxes. She scanned along them until she found the one she was looking for: Doctor Sigmare Fjord. Psychiatrist, Crystal Empire Department of Justice. She dropped the memo into the box, then went back to her office, sitting on her haunches behind her desk and turning on her computer display. Time to hit Reid with the new evidence she’d gathered on her little fact finding expedition.
% ptalk ltreid::jag.usnavy.mil
Ponytalk v 5.8, Connecting to jag.usnavy.mil . . . . . . . .
Connection established … U.S. Navy, Judge Advocate General, Lieutenant Reid
Lieutenant Reid: Hello, Ice Moon. It’s been awhile. I trust you are contacting me to make extradition arrangements for the prisoners?
“Presumptuous jerk,” Ice muttered to herself.
Ice Moon: Not quite. I have reason to believe this may have been justifiable use of force to protect an innocent child from death or serious harm.
There was a long pause. Ice smiled to herself. She could practically smell Reid’s anger through the screen. He’d thought he could pull one over on her. Thought he could deceive a former member of Bat Team Alpha. Now he would know otherwise, and perhaps finally, he’d start cooperating with her, now that he knew she was on to his game.
Lieutenant Reid: And who told you that?
Ice Moon: That’s classified.
Lieutenant Reid: ...What?
Ice Moon: That’s classified. I can’t tell you names. Certainly, you understand my need to protect my sources against any possible retaliation.
Ice grinned to herself, a feeling of satisfaction filling her as she dished out at Reid the same thing he’d given her earlier. He deserved it for being such an asshole. Granted, she was trying to take a new approach to humans after the dream and after the experience with the girl. But that didn’t mean she had to like Reid. After all, he’d lied to her, withheld evidence, and overtly tampered with the service records of the prisoners to try to hide the fact that three of them had been awarded very high honors for protecting children in the past. Combined with what Duncan had told her, everything was starting to become clear, like one of those old Polaroid photos that starts out like a dense fog, but then becomes more and more clear as the image replaces the haze.
Lieutenant Reid: Look, even if what you were told by this source you won’t reveal is true, and even if it somehow qualifies as protecting an innocent child from death or serious harm under the Uniform Code of Pony Justice, it does not qualify under local Afghan law. And you cannot force human nations to abide by your pony justice code.
Ice narrowed her eyes, as anger boiled inside of her. Did this guy have no conscience at all? No sense of morality? Did he honestly think the solders should have just stood by and watched a child get raped and done nothing to stop it? She unloaded on him.
Ice Moon: What!?! That’s not at all what I’m doing. Are we the ones who invaded their country? No! That was you guys! In case you forgot, we got dragged into this mess because your pilots got lost! But now, we are in it! And I cannot, in anything that bears any resemblance to good conscience, extradite or even recommend charges against the prisoners for taking action to stop a man who was in the process of raping a child! I don’t care which nation’s law you want to apply! I will NOT punish these guys for stopping the rape of a child!
Ice could feel herself trembling with rage. What kind of a man was she dealing with here?
Lieutenant Reid: With a 50 caliber sniper rifle? The man was killed from 1,500 yards away with a single shot to the head just after he stepped out of village hall! This was not a case of stopping a rape in progress. There was no boy anywhere near him! This was premeditated murder. They knew where he would be and when he would be there, and they were waiting for him!
Ice felt as if she’d been shot herself. A sinking feeling left a pit in her stomach. Duncan’s story had been wrong then? Had her initial instinct that he was lying to her just to try to get some friends out of a murder charge been correct? When he was telling it, his story had been a little hard to believe.
But then again, Reid had all but confirmed that what Duncan had said, was, in fact, going on in the villages of Afghanistan by stating that even if what she’d been told was true, that it did not qualify as protecting a child under Afghan local law. And there was no doubt that the girl had been abused. She was chained to the bed, for Luna’s sake! She’d seen that with her own eyes. So at least some part of Duncan’s story was true. Whether he had lied about the rest of it or just been mistaken was something she had no way of knowing. He had stated it was a rumor, though. And rumors had a way getting their details changed each time they were passed from person to person. That was exactly why secondhand accounts of events were not useful for legal purposes.
Still, a feeling for foreboding began to fill her. Yes, there was clearly law sanctioned child abuse going on in the village. The girl the police chief had had chained to the bed was proof enough of that. But that didn’t mean the militia commander himself had been guilty of any wrong doing. Even Duncan had admitted he’d only heard rumors, although they were common rumors. He’d also admitted that there would be no police reports because the police chief would have destroyed them as soon as the person filing them left the station. If Reid’s statements were true, then at best this was pure vigilantism, which was highly illegal under both the Uniform Code of Pony Justice, as well as local Crystal Empire law. For civil society to survive, law and order must be observed. If vigilantism were allowed, it would lead to a collapse of society. At worst, this was an extrajudicial execution carried out without trial against a man who may or may not have been guilty of any crime. Ice could feel her argument that this was justified use of lethal force crumbling like so much sand slipping between her hooves. Damn Reid anyway! If he weren’t playing this scavenger hunt game with her; weren’t withholding evidence from her, she would have known all of this before now!
Assuming, that is, that he wasn’t lying to her right now, in which case, Duncan’s story might still be true. And It wouldn’t be the first time Reid had lied to her. Ice realized more than a minute had passed since Reid posted his last message. Damn that too. Now he’d know he had her flustered. She’d have to recover from that. And she knew just how to do it. She narrowed her eyes, her lips curling and causing her fangs to show like large, razor sharp spikes.
Ice Moon: Alright, I’m through playing hide and seek with you, Lieutenant. This is information I would have already known if you hadn’t withheld evidence from me to begin with. I want crime scene photos and maps of the location where the crime occurred.
Lieutenant Reid: No. I already told you, I can’t send them. They’re classified.
Ice Moon: You’ll send them, or I’ll go to Cadance right now and recommend that the prisoners’ request for asylum be granted.
There was another long pause. Good, she’d taken another bite out of Reid’s composure. That bite might not have put her back in control of the situation, but at least they were on equal footing again.
Lieutenant Reid: Give me two days and I’ll see what I can do.
Ice Moon: You’ve got until tomorrow noon your time. If I don’t hear from you by then, I guarantee you that you’ll never see your boys again except maybe on your own national news as they walk out of Crystal Court as free men who are able to move around without restriction in any of the pony nations that subscribe to the Uniform Code of Pony Justice.
Another short pause before a response.
Lieutenant Reid: I’ll contact you by noon tomorrow, one way or the other.
A wave of relief washed over Ice. She’d bluffed, but it had worked. She was inclined to believe Duncan’s story. But at the same time, she had no intention of simply letting the prisoners walk if there was a chance Duncan was wrong, and they really were vigilantes who had executed a man based on nothing more than rumors of wrongdoing. She had to allow for the possibility the Navy Crosses they’d been awarded for throwing themselves into significant danger to save the lives of the children at the school meant that they were both impulsive as well as passionate. Passion and impulsiveness made for a dangerous combination that could lead someone to act out emotionally in ways that weren’t rational. The combination could also lead to poor judgement, and acting with insufficient basis, or without considering the full implication of the actions. But then again, if Reid was telling the truth, this was not an act committed on impulse. It had been planned, carefully thought out, and methodically executed as if it were a bonafide special operations mission. The crime scene photos and maps of the area should tell her whether Reid was being truthful.
But there was also still the possibility that the prisoners were innocent completely. In the witness testimony that Reid had given her, none of the witnesses had actually been able to make a positive identification of any of the prisoners. This was still a case that was based entirely on circumstantial evidence. Yes, the prisoners had run, and yes, they were refusing to talk now out of fear of incriminating themselves. But it was still possible that they had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time and had no alibi to show what they were really doing. In that case, it would be better for them if they didn’t talk at all since admitting to being in the area at the time of the killing would only make them look guilty. She might was well point out the circumstantial nature of this case to Reid again. Maybe it would convince him to throw her another bone.
Ice Moon: I also feel the need to remind you that all of the evidence in this case remains entirely circumstantial. You have no smoking gun.
Lieutenant Reid: No. But you do. You have their aircraft and everything that was in it. The MARSOC soldiers had 100 rounds of .50 BMG assigned to them. Inventory their ammo. They did not report engaging any targets. But I’ll eat both my shoes if there’s not one round missing. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do if I’m going to convince my superiors to allow me to send you classified documents in the ridiculously short time frame you’ve given me.
Connection closed.
%
Ice took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she stared at Reid’s last message on the screen. Then, she stood up and left her office, going over to Aspen’s cubicle (interns didn’t get their own offices.) The crystal earth pony looked up from his work and smiled, although a few wrinkles showed on his muzzle. What was with all the nose wrinkling?
“I was starting to worry. Hadn’t seen you for a few days. And it’s early for you to be in today. Is everything alright?”
Ice felt a few butterflies dance in her stomach at the earth pony’s show of concern. But she quickly slapped them down. It only meant he was a friend, or that he was just being polite. The idea that it meant he felt the same way about her that she did about him was reading too much into it.
“It’s fine, thank you. I had to take a little field trip,” she said with a smile of her own. She wanted to tell him where she had gone. To tell him what had happened. After her discouraging conversation with Reid, she really wanted to confide in him. It made her heart ache to hold back from him. But he was still just an intern and wasn’t press trained. She couldn’t give him any more information than he needed to do his job. She especially couldn’t tell him about the girl she’d brought back with her. For now, the girl’s existence in the Crystal Empire had to remain a closely guarded state secret. If it were to leak to either the Americans or the Afghans that the Crystal Empire officially knew the girl was here, and that they had given her refugee status and considered her a potential witness, it would destroy any chance of her getting any further information out of either of them. She didn’t think Aspen would intentionally leak it, but if the press outside …
“The reporters outside have been harassing me every time I come in. Trying to get information out of me. It’s kind of … kind of intimidating.”
And there it was. The press wasn’t even supposed to be trying to talk to interns. Attempting to talk to the interns was grounds for a fine, or in serious cases, having their press credentials revoked. Nevertheless, those rules often didn’t stop the reporters from schooling around the interns like hungry piranhas, knowing full well that they weren’t press trained, and would likely say something they weren’t supposed to if they could intimidate them into talking. Of course, the interns were told not to speak to reporters. And their standard answer was supposed to be ‘I’m not authorized to speak to the press.’ Still, if Aspen didn’t know about the girl, then there was no chance he could accidentally leak her existence to some pit-bull reporter who might try to intimidate him into speaking. Ice made a note to talk to the Crystal Guard about it. Yes, the press had a right to camp outside and try to get her to talk. But that right was conditional on following the rules. The Crystal Guard could make them leave if they continued to try to intimidate interns.
“I’ll talk to the Crystal Guard about it, and get them off your back. But in the meantime, I need you to take a little field trip of your own.”
“Oh?” Aspen’s ears perked at the opportunity to get out of the office and do some actual field work.
“I need you to go out to CHF field. Have the Crystal Guards there inventory the ammo for the weapons on the humans’ plane. Watch them do it and make sure they carefully follow all of the rules of evidence. Write down the tallies for each ammunition type and report back to me when they are finished.”
Aspen nodded. “When do you want me to go over there?”
“Right now if you have nothing more pressing to work on. And given this case has the attention of the Prince and Princess themselves, I suspect you don’t.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a smile, quickly gathering up the papers on his desk and placing them in his filing cabinet. Then he trotted out of his cubicle and toward the door of the office, his ears still perked, and his tail arched, clearly excited about the important job he’d been given.
Ice smiled as she watched him go, then gave a wide-fanged yawn as exhaustion caught up with her. Her normal schedule had been thrown completely off kilter by the trip to Afghanistan and she hadn’t slept since the raid on the house to rescue the girl. Well, except for the rough hour and a half of sleep she’d gotten on the chariot after they’d crossed into Crystal Empire airspace.
She returned to her own office long enough to pull the door shut and lock it. Then, she left for her apartment, waving to the other agents whom she rarely saw because of the night hours she kept.
After arriving in her apartment, she undressed and yawned again. She hadn’t eaten in more than a day, but she was too tired to prepare anything. She started straight for her bedroom, but then paused. She hadn’t showered since the raid on the house, and her saddle pad was still sticky with the lather of sweat she’d worked up during her mad gallop for the chariot when the jeep had started pursuing her and the girl. She turned her head, sniffing lightly at her side, then wrinkling her nose in disgust. Wow, she stank. Like the locker room of an entire hoofball team after a game. She blushed with embarrassment as it suddenly dawned on her why the ponies at the office had been wrinkling their noses at her.
She went into the bathroom, cast off the saddle pad, and tossed it into her dirty clothes hamper. She frowned, remembering that the coal black saddle pad was now the only saddle pad she owned. She went over to the hamper, reached her forehoof deep into it, and fished the saddle pad back out. The gaping mouth of the empty hamper stared back at her, like an empty cave, reminding her that unfortunately, she’d just done laundry the day before leaving on her trip. Literally, every piece of clothing she’d owned had been in the saddle bags that she’d abandoned in Afghanistan. Hoity Toity probably would have cheered in victory and said that the only thing that would have been more appropriate than her losing her entire bland wardrobe would have been to gather it all into a pile, poor lamp oil on it, and burn it.
She turned the valve on the shower, let the water warm, and climbed in, taking the noxious saddle pad in with her. She took a relaxing breath, letting the warm water flow over her back and down her sides. It had a soothing effect, washing her worries down the drain along with the dust and grime of the desert. At least temporarily. She looked down at the floor of the shower. Dark gray and brown mud flowed off of her and swirled as it went down the drain. She hadn’t been this dirty since her days in Bat Team Alpha. She squirted some lavender scented fur wash on herself, allowing it to sit for a few minutes and extract the stench of sweat from her fur before washing it off. Once she’d washed herself clean, she washed the saddle pad – normally she would have just thrown it in the wash, machine, but she was too tired to wait for the cycle to finish – then turned off the shower. She hung the dripping saddle pad from the shower head, then dried herself off quickly before stepping out, going to her bedroom, and leaping into bed.
She lie on her back, staring up at her ceiling and thinking of the star-painted ceiling from her apartment back in Canterlot before she’d had it painted over to try to wipe away her memories. That ceiling had been beautiful, with all of its twinkling points that caught and reflected the ambient light in the room like snowflakes dancing under street lamps. She made a note to call a contractor as soon as she had some free time and have the ceiling here painted like that. Ice worried that the wheels of her mind would be too busy turning over the case for her to sleep, but soon enough, exhaustion won over and her eyelids drifted shut. She didn’t have any dreams.
She awoke early the next day and went to her dresser, quickly running a brush through her mane and tail, working the tangles out. Then she went into the bathroom, taking the saddle pad down from the shower head and placing it over her back. It hadn’t had time to fully dry, and the damp chill sunk through her fur and to her skin, making her shiver for a moment. Her own body heat would finish drying it out quickly enough. She cooked a quick breakfast, then put on her sunglasses and stepped outside where it was still mid-day.
She arrived at her office a few minutes later, once again finding the stairs blocked by reporters. However, they cleared a path for her as she approached. The Crystal Guard could order them to all to pack up and go home if they actually interfered with her getting into her office. Again, she was barraged with questions as she climbed the stairs, and again, she told them that it was an ongoing investigation and she could not comment. She opened the door and stepped inside, slamming it behind her as if she were shutting out a hoard of zombies. The chatter of the reporters became muffled behind the barrier, as if she were under water.
Once again, the office was busier than she was used to. She’d arrived early enough that most of the employees who worked the normal day shift had not left yet. She nodded and exchanged polite greetings as she made her way to her office, then closed the door to her inner sanctum. Her eyes immediately went to the two new sealed envelopes on her desk. The first one was a large white cardboard mailer with the blue outline of an eagle on it. Overnight express mail from the United States Post Office, delivered to her by pegasus courier after the hand off at Crystal Skyport. The return address label told her it was from Washington D.C., Department of the Navy, Judge Advocate General. Her eyes moved to the second envelope. It was from Aspen.
She went behind her desk, anxiety rising in her and sending a chill through her body. A feeling of dread began to come over her, as if she were waiting on word of a friend who might have some horrible disease and the two envelopes contained reports from a doctor that would either give the all clear, or confirm a terminal diagnosis. For several long moments, she stared at the sealed documents, afraid to open them. What was inside stood to either make her case, or kill it. Finally, she picked up the one from the Department of the Navy, ran her fang along the seal like a letter opener, then dumped the contents on her desk.
A top-down photo of a robed man with a long beard lying face down on the dusty ground in a pool of blood stared back at her. The top part of the man’s head was completely missing, consistent with Reid’s story that he had been shot with a high powered, large caliber rifle. The spray of blood and the large, gaping exit wound on the right side of his head indicated he’d been shot from the left. In addition, the spray slanted at an upward angle, suggesting the trajectory of the bullet had been upward. Ice’s stomach sank. She felt as if she were reading a lab report, and all the numbers were serving as a sinister finger pointing towards the fatal diagnosis she feared for her case. She pushed the photo aside and looked at the second one in the stack. It was the same scene, but from a different angle, showing the village hall behind the body. There were no structures to the right in the direction the bullet would have traveled. That meant the shot angle had likely been planned to ensure the bullet wouldn’t lodge in the wall of a building, making it very difficult to find and thus making it impossible to perform ballistics testing. The upward angle also ensured it wouldn’t have lodged in the ground close enough to the crime scene to actually be found. The bullet could be a mile or more away, buried in a sand dune, or laying in the desert somewhere. Again, the photo seemed to confirm Reid’s version of events. She looked through a few more photos in the stack – closeups, wide shots, and different angles. All of them seemed to support Reid’s story.
There was, however, one benefit to the upward trajectory of the bullet. It must have been fired from well below the intendeds target. That should be able to help her pinpoint exactly where the shot had been fired from, once she had topographical data for the area.
She took a deep breath, pushing the photos to the side of her desk with disgust. The thought entered her mind that Reid could have sent her photos of some other incident instead of the actual crime scene. But that was reaching way too far. Not even worth seriously considering. Despite Reid’s withholding of evidence from her in the past, there was no way he’d take a risk that blatant. Even with the top of the man’s head blown away, it would be too easy for her to discover that the dead man in the photo was not the militia commander.
With her sense of foreboding increasing like gathering storm clouds, she opened the envelope from Aspen, skipping over the inventory report’s preamble and focusing on the interesting part:
Evidence inventory: Ammunition
* 9x19mm Parabellum (NATO) – 300 rounds
* 5.56x45 NATO – 600 rounds
* .50 BMG – 99 rounds
Ice stared at the new evidence on her desk, alternating her gaze back and forth between the crime scene photos and the ammunition report as if by sheer willpower, she could make them change to say something else. But all they did was stare back at her, laughing at her futile efforts to defeat Reid.
One fifty caliber round missing. Reid’s words played back in her head like the voice of a phantom. Mocking her. Taunting her. The photos and the ammunition report were a double blow that decimated both of the remaining options she had to defend the prisoners’ actions. Together, the two pieces of evidence were nearly fatal. They impacted her with as much force as a ball-and-chain flail wielded by a minotaur. The prisoners’ fate hung by a thread now, their future resting entirely in one place: The hands of a young Afghan girl.
XVI
Ice awoke to the tangerine radiance of the setting Sun framing her dark curtains with a fiery glow. She lay in bed, enjoying that brief moment between sleep and full wakefulness when nothing in the real world matters. But as always, that moment was fleeting, and quickly snuffed out like the flame of a candle with a cover placed on top of it. Then, the problems of her waking world assaulted her once again. It had been the same for the last few days now, and she had fallen into a repetitive routine, like she were caught in some kind of time loop and living the same suspense-filled day and night over and over again.
She climbed out of bed, going to her dresser and quickly running a brush through her mane and tail, working the tangles out, as she'd done first thing after waking up for the last several days. She wished she could work her frustration out the same way she could the snarls. The specter of the case loomed over her like a menacing cloud. Everything now depended on what the girl she'd brought back told Doctor Fjord.
Ice had heard nothing from Doctor Fjord, and a strong part of her wanted to contact the doctor and put pressure on her to hurry up and get answers out of the girl. But that would be a really bad idea. Ice had learned interrogation tactics in Bat Team Alpha. But the girl wasn't a captured enemy that she could interrogate for strategic or tactical information like she had done with captured American soldiers during the war. Nor was the girl someone she could question like a prisoner suspected of a crime. Instead, the girl was a victim of a horrible crime herself. One of the worst crimes it was possible to commit under the Uniform Code of Pony Justice. She could not be coerced into talking. She'd have to open up on her own time and talk when she was ready to talk. Putting pressure on Doctor Fjord to speed things up would do no good. Not only would Fjord refuse to do so, but she would likely rebuke Ice harshly for even trying to get her to pressure the girl. And she'd be in the right for doing so. Ice was no psychiatrist, especially not of colts and fillies … well, in this case children. But she knew enough to know that you couldn't pressure a sexual abuse victim into telling their story. Doing so would only traumatize the victim further, especially if the victim was young. Ice, the prisoners, and Reid would all just have to wait until the girl was ready to talk. The best thing Ice could do was to stay out of it and just let Doctor Fjord do her job. Fjord would contact her when she had information worth sharing. Ice took solace in knowing that Reid was probably biting his fingernails in suspense just as much as she was biting her hooves.
Thinking of her desire to torment Reid made her frown. Not because she had any love for Reid, but because she wondered if she had actually made any progress in her healing process and overcoming her hatred of humans. She no longer hated the prisoners in the dungeon. No longer wished to punish them for something that had happened to her twenty years ago and for which they had played no part in. But had she simply shifted her hatred and desire for revenge onto Reid? Was he her new whipping boy? After thinking about it for a moment, she decided he was not. It was true that her initial dislike of Reid had been for no other reason than that he was human. It was also true that she'd nitpicked for reasons to justify her hatred of him, such as taking offense at minor issues during their discussions, or taking various statements as attacks against her knowledge and education. She still disliked him, but not for those same reasons. Now, it was because she saw him as a perversion of justice. He'd lied to her. Withheld evidence from her. He'd even borderline falsified official government documents when he'd sent her the personnel files and had the information about the prisoners' medals removed. She felt sick knowing that she'd almost allowed herself to become a perversion of justice herself, without even realizing she'd been doing it.
Ironically, both she and Reid had originally started out with the same goals: Both of them had wanted to punish the prisoners. She had wanted to do it for personal reasons, and he … well, she couldn't pretend to know his motives, but if Duncan's story was true, then he wanted to do it probably under the directive of the Judge Advocate General himself, to convince the Afghans that the Americans weren't imperialist invaders trying to force their own culture on to Afghanistan. It was also possible that Reid really did believe the prisoners were guilty of cold-blooded murder, or that they had acted on rumor and sniped off an innocent man, thus appointing themselves judge, jury, and executioner of a kangaroo court.
Or perhaps the man really was the child rapist that Duncan claimed he was, and Reid, as an agent of the law, simply believed there was no place for vigilantism in any kind of civilized society. Until a few days ago, Ice would have agreed completely with Reid on that. After all, she was an agent of the law as well. Civilized society depended on due process, and making sure everyone was treated equally and given a fair shot at defending themselves against accusations of a crime. That due process was at the very heart of everything Ice's own department was built on. It's why her job, and the courts, existed at all. Furthermore, all forms of vigilantism were strictly forbidden under the Uniform Code of Pony Justice. Until a few days ago, that hadn't mattered because she'd been operating on the assumption that this was a case of justifiable use of lethal force to protect a filly (child in this case) from immediate threat of death or serious harm. But the nature of the killing, the fact that the man had been sniped with a fifty cal from fifteen hundred yards away had blown that argument out the window. At best, this was now a clear cut case of vigilantism.
So why was she still defending the prisoners? Why was she willing to make an exception to the very cornerstone that civilized, law-abiding society was built on if it wasn't just out of some petty desire to screw over Reid? It was, she decided, because she could sympathize with the prisoners. After all, she had wanted to do the same thing. When she'd seen the girl shackled to the bed, seen the pitiful condition she was in, she'd found herself hoping that the Afghan police chief would step into the room. She had wanted to kill him. To tear his throat from the front of his neck. To spill his lifeblood and feel its warmth running down her fangs and spurting into her mouth, coating her tongue with its iron-like taste. No colt, filly, or human child for that matter should have to suffer what that girl had suffered. No child who had suffered it should be denied justice. And no child would be denied justice if there was anything she could do about it. She was an official Agent of Justice of the Crystal Empire. And no child who was suffering such horrific abuse would continue to suffer under her watch, no matter what it took to stop it. Uniform code of Pony justice be damned. What was the point of a justice system anyway, if not to protect innocent young ones from the monsters of society? Wasn't that one of the most important and sacred duties of an agent of justice? To protect those who were too weak to protect themselves?
A clatter brought her out of her contemplations as the brush slipped out of her fetlock joint, hit the floor, and bounced once before coming to a stop. Apparently, she'd been idly running it through the same section of her mane over and over again the entire time she'd been ruminating. She picked it up, placed it on the dresser, glancing at herself in the mirror one more time before standing up and going to the closet, picking up the one saddle pad she still owned. She really should go shopping, but she couldn't take her mind off the case long enough to focus on something like buying clothes. The one saddle pad was becoming a liability, though. It was still volcano levels of hot outside, and Celestia's blazing sun beating down on the black saddle pad caused her to sweat underneath it. She had to wash it every night, and it never had time to fully dry by the next morning. That she was putting it on every morning while it was still wet certainly wasn't helping the situation.
But why continue to wear it at all? She'd always known that as a thestral, she wasn't fooling anypony into believing she was an earth pony. The saddle pad had always been for her own peace of mind, preventing her wide peripheral vision from seeing where her wings used to be. It had been like a foal's security blanket that she had thought was protecting her from painful memories. But now, she knew that it had really been a ball-and-chain. A harness that had been keeping her tied to those painful memories. Chaining her to her past and preventing her from moving forward. It had to go.
With great trepidation, she picked it up in her mouth and walked towards the bathroom. She leaned over the dirty clothes hamper, but then stopped. If she put it in there, the temptation would be there to retrieve it and start wearing it again. She turned around, carrying it into the kitchen, stopping at the trashcan. She pushed the pedal with her forehoof, opening the lid and leaning over it. Again, she hesitated. She knew now that her relationship with the saddle pads had been an abusive one. A relationship with a partner that had given the illusion of security and protection, but in reality had only kept her chained and stopped her from moving on with her life. But she'd lived that way for so long, that it was the only life she knew. Parting with the saddle pad was like parting with an old friend. Walking out the door without wearing it would be like leaving all her doors open, making her vulnerable and unprotected. No, that was the illusion. The saddle pads only provided the illusion of protection. With a light wince, she opened her jaws, letting the pad fall into the trash, then quickly took her forehoof off the pedal, letting the lid slam shut with a clang, as if somehow that would lock the saddle pad inside the container, sealing it away forever. Before she could reconsider, she turned away from the trashcan, making a mental note to place the bag out in the hall before she left for her office so that the sanitation pony would collect it while she was gone, eliminating any temptation to fish it out of the trash after she got home. Hoity Toity would have been right. The plain, black garments were repulsive anyway.
She filled a kettle of water and put it on the stove, then poured herself a bowl of shredded oat straw. She turned her attention towards the case as she waited for the water to boil.
Even if the girl could implicate the dead militia commander as a child rapist, which was the best case scenario as far as vindicating the human prisoners was concerned, the new developments created two serious obstacles for her. The first, as she'd thought on earlier, was that vigilantism was clearly forbidden under all circumstances by the Uniform Code of Pony Justice, as well as by Crystal Empire law. However, there was one potential loophole. Princess Cadance, as the ruling monarch of the Crystal Empire, did have the absolute and unrestricted authority to wave any law in either the Uniform Code, or Crystal Empire code. That was seen by some advocates of democracy as a critical flaw in the pony legal process. They argued that it gave the monarchs a free pass to completely ignore the law whenever it suited their purposes, thus effectively placing the Princesses above the law. However, Ice thought it was for just such extraordinary circumstances as the one she was faced with now that such authority to wave any law existed. Some criminal matters were so unique that they simply couldn't be pigeonholed into codified law, especially when dealing with crimes that crossed international borders. Assuming Duncan's story checked out, Ice planned to argue to Cadance that this was a perfect example of where she should invoke her unlimited authority as a monarch to wave the law.
The second hurdle was going to be harder to overcome. As much as she hated to admit it, The American military's reasoning as presented by Duncan was a valid argument that presented a difficult legal question: Does one civilization ever have a legal, moral, or ethical right to force their cultural values onto another civilization? There was no easy legal answer to that question. And given the actions of the prisoners were not sanctioned by their own government anyway, it wasn't an exactly equivalent situation. However, if she were going to find any kind of legal precedence, that was probably the closest she was going to get.
The tea kettle began to chirp like a bird, the sounds growing into a steady whistle as the water reached a boil. Ice turned off the stove, then poured the boiling water over the oat straw, the steam bringing the sweet, grainy aroma to her nostrils. She carried it over to the table and set it down, then sat on her haunches, idly stirring the mixture while waiting for it to cool.
Normally, it didn't take her this long to get ready for work. But she'd been stalling for the last few days, she admitted to herself. For all that she wanted to contact Doctor Fjord and put pressure on her to hurry up and find out what the girl knew, she also dreaded finding out. She went to work each day dreading finding Fjord's report on her desk, wondering if it would be the death knell to her case. She wanted answers, and yet she didn't, like a patient wanting to know whether they have some serious disease, but avoiding their doctor out of fear that they might not like the answer. Every day was another day closer to getting the answer she hoped for, or dreaded.
She tested the steaming oat straw. It was still too hot to eat. She swirled it around some more, her thoughts turning to the reporters that she knew would be waiting to greet her outside of her office, once again hounding her for a story she wouldn't, and couldn't give them. Not yet. They were another reason she was worrying herself sick over this case. Yes, everything she'd thought about earlier regarding Reid being a perversion of justice, and her empathizing with the human prisoners because she herself had wanted to kill the police chief in one of the most violent ways possible was true. But there was another, more selfish reason at work too. In the grand scheme of things, this was just a murder case involving a few suspects and a single victim. But it was a murder case that had international attention. Shining Armor had said that human news agencies with names like CNN, and Fox News, and BBC were all clamoring to get press passes. Right now, Ice was just a disabled war vet from a war that most ponies and humans wanted to forget about. She was a nopony. But by the time this case was over, the entire world would know who she was. Princess Cadance herself would judge this case. Among the humans, presidents, kings, and prime ministers would be watching. Her global reputation was on the line. And it wasn't just the human prisoners that were on trial here. The global reputation of the Crystal Empire's entire justice system was on trial. By extension, that also meant the reputation of the Equestrian justice system was also on trial given that the Crystal Empire's justice system was modeled after Equestria's. Ice herself had helped to build it after transferring here from Equestria.
She tested the oat straw again, finding it had cooled enough. She ate it quickly, then took the bowl over the sink and started to wash it. You're stalling again, Ice, she told herself. You can wash the dishes when you get home. The ominous threat of getting bad news from Doctor Fjord wasn't the only reason she was stalling, she realized. She was also nervous about showing up at work without wearing a saddle pad. Despite the fact that she knew she had never been fooling anypony there, she suspected her change in attire would draw attention and probably elicit comments that were no doubt intended to be good-natured and supportive, but which would be awkward and uncomfortable just the same. Nevertheless, she forced herself to leave the bowl for later, and left her apartment, grabbing the bag from the trashcan first and setting it outside the door. Then she stepped outside and made her way to her office, Celestia's Sun already well below the horizon.
She arrived to the usual cacophony of reporters rushing towards her, surrounding her like a pack of excited dogs rushing their master, slobbering and drooling and begging for a treat. Down boys, down girls, Ice was tempted to say. The thought made her smile and chuckle inside. She had no treats for them, and told them so. Hooves, talons, and paws all walked away, their owners like sad puppies with their tails between their legs. At least there were no human feet. Not yet anyway. She suspected there would be, though. Shining Armor had hinted during their debriefing that it was likely Cadance would eventually grant press passes to at least some human news agencies.
She entered the building, pushing the door shut and leaving the rabid wolves outside. The halls were deserted, not surprising given how late in the evening it was. So her stalling tactics had worked on that end, then. At least she'd be able to avoid the stares and well-intentioned gaffs of ponies commenting about her lack of a saddle pad. But when she entered her own department's suite, a sapphire colored unicorn mare with a sea-green mane and tail looked at her, her hazel eyes doing a double take.
"Ice! It's … good to see you finally decided to stop wearing those hideous saddle pads." As soon a she's said it, the mare's tail twitched nervously, a blush of embarrassment covering her muzzle.
"Yeah … I finally saw a wardrobe counselor," was all Ice said in response as she continued to her office, rolling her eyes once she had walked past the mare. Somehow, insulting Ice's taste in fashion didn't seem like the best way to complement her for finally having the courage to show up at work without wearing the saddle pad. But there was no reason to point that out. The mare's clumsy expression made it clear she already knew.
Ice stepped into her office and immediately forgot all about saddle pads and the mare's lack of tact. Sitting on her desk, was a manila folder from Doctor Fjord. Her heart raced as she closed the door and walked behind her desk, sitting down on her haunches and staring at the folder for a few seconds as if she were terrified it would explode in her face if she touched it. A feeling of disgust filled her. Here she was, a former commander in Bat Team Alpha, who had lead some of the most dangerous missions of the war. She'd infiltrated deep into enemy territory, been in firefights, and taken a serious war injury. And yet, she was afraid of a paper folder. She reached out with a forehoof, slowly pushing it under the cover of the folder as if she were afraid it would bite her if she moved too quickly. The cover reached the vertical point, then yielded to gravity, flopping over on the desk and leaving the cover letter exposed to her gaze. That feeling of looking at a doctor's report that might contain a terminal diagnosis come over her again as she began to read.
FROM: Doctor Sigmare Fjord
TO: Agent Ice Moon
I've finished my interview of the girl you brought from Afghanistan. It took two days to get her to open up at all. She wouldn't even tell me her name. But once I earned her trust and she started to talk, it was like a flood gate had opened. She wanted to tell me everything.
Her given name is Asalah, although she states that the police chief, whose name is Parviz, rarely called her by her real name, and instead used various insulting pet names for her (detailed in my full interview report.)
Two days after her 12th birthday, she was raped by Parviz. Parviz spent less than one day in a local jail and after being released, a local religious authority issued an order forcing her to marry him. Unfortunately, she does not know the name of the person who issued the order, or whether he was coerced into issuing the order. After the marriage, she was forcefully taken from her father and made to live with Parviz.
Asalah stated that whenever Parviz was away from his house, he kept her chained to the bed in the room where you found her. Often times, he kept her chained even when he was home. She stated that he rarely paid any attention to her except when he wanted sex. During those times, he would force it on her. Asalah was very traumatized by these incidents and it took her some time to talk about them, but eventually she told me what happened in graphic detail. I have no doubt that everything she said happened to her is true, since no child could invent such heinous scenarios as were inflicted on her. I have spared you the graphics, however, if they are necessary to your case, we can discuss them. I would strongly suggest that you refrain from eating before we do, though.
Ice's lips curled involuntarily, her gleaming fangs showing. She narrowed her steel blue eyes as her anger at the police chief, who she now had a name for, bubbled to the surface again. With the anger, came the desire to end his life. Once again, she found herself empathizing with the human prisoners if Duncan's story were true. She continued reading the letter.
I'm afraid, however, that Asalah was unable to confirm that the militia commander himself was involved in any sexual abuse or rape of children. Although she was able to confirm that Parviz was good friends with the now deceased militia commander, and that she routinely heard the two of them talking downstairs when she was chained to the bed, she stated that the commander had never actually done anything abusive to her. She also stated that she had never heard the two of them talking about anything that would indicate the commander was involved in any of these activities.
"Luna damn it!" Ice burst out. Anger, despair, frustration, disgust, hopelessness, all blasted from her in a single ball of tangled emotions, like a projectile shot from a cannon. That was it. The girl had been the last move she had to play in this case. Now, she was out of cards. All of the feeling had fired out of her in that single blast. Now, she just stared at the letter on her desk, her expression blank. She felt as if she'd injected herself with an entire bottle of emotional morphine. There was no anger, no sadness, no frustration. Only impassive numbness.
XVII
Ice stared blankly at the letter on her desk for another minute, then hooked her filing cabinet with a forehoof, pulling open the bottom drawer. She took out the case file and laid it open on her desk. The gory photos of the dead commander with the top of his head missing stared back at her. But she was emotionally numb to it. She could have witnessed the killing live, and it would have had no effect on her. The only thought in her mind now was that she wished it had been a double killing and that the body of the police chief was lying right next to the body of the commander. Or perhaps even instead of the commander. She couldn't prove the commander was guilty of any wrong doing, but the police chief most certainly was. She'd seen it with her own eyes and had the testimony of Asalah to back her up. What she wouldn't give to have the police chief sitting in the dungeon right now instead of the American soldiers. She'd make sure the child raping bastard would never see anything again except for the four walls of his cell. She continued to move her eyes back and forth between the bloody crime scene photos and the letter from Doctor Fjord. What she was hoping to find, she had no idea. But she wasn't really looking for anything anyway. She was completely numb. It was as if time had stopped, and she were simply floating through a featureless space, devoid of light, dark, emotion, or existence. She had no idea how long she remained in that state.
A knock on her door pulled her out of the void and back into her office.
"What?" she said, rudely. But there was no anger in her voice. There was nothing in her voice at all. It was like the monotone voice of a robot that was not capable of any emotion at all. There was a hesitation before a response came from behind the door.
"It's … me. Aspen," the timid voice of the stallion said. "I heard you shout something and I wanted to see how you were doing."
Emotion returned to her in a flood at the sound of the earth pony's voice. Most of those emotions were painful. She was a drifting ship caught in a hurricane, being tossed about and threatening to capsize as giant waves tried to swamp her. But Aspen was the single beacon of light on the shore, calling her home, pointing the way to safe harbor. She smiled, but then criticized herself again for letting herself get caught up in romantic musings. He was just checking on her. It didn't mean anything. It certainly didn't mean he returned any of her feelings. What would a young stallion like him see in a middle aged, disabled war vet? Nevertheless, she could use the company and moral support now that she'd been yanked out of her apathetic void.
"Come in," she said kindly, giving him a small smile when he stepped in. Aspen gazed at her desk, his muzzle wrinkling slightly when he saw the graphic photos. He certainly wasn't used to seeing such violent images. Even most seasoned agents of the department would probably get squeamish over the pictures. But Ice had seen worse in her time with Bat Team Alpha.
"How's the case going?" Aspen asked, dragging his eyes away from the gore-fest on her desk and looking at her. Ice sighed and lowered her ears.
"It's going. I appear to be out of cards."
Aspen's expression became sympathetic. "You're going to have to extradite, then?"
"Probably … As much as I hate to admit it … yes, I'll probably have to."
Aspen lowered his own ears and, with what looked like a visible effort on his part, as if he were fighting against a tether pulling his gaze the other way, he looked back down at the bloody photos on her desk. For several moments, he was silent before returning his gaze to her.
"There's one thing I don't understand. If they were guilty, why not dispose of the incriminating evidence? They had all the time in the world to do it. Why not just open the cargo door when they were over the sea and push the rifle out?"
Ice nodded. "Normally, that would be criminal 101, wouldn't it? Don't get caught with the murder weapons. But look closely at these crime scene photos. The man was shot from this angle here with a fifty caliber jacketed round. Notice that the angle is upward, and notice that they took great care to ensure that there was nothing behind the target to catch the bullet. The bullet exited his head here, and then continued to travel for an unknown distance, lodging itself Luna knows where. It could be in the ground, it could be in a sand dune. But there are two places it most certainly isn't: It's not still inside his head, and since there are no buildings behind the exit wound, it's not lodged in a wall where it would be easy to find and dig out.
"The M107 rifle was assigned to the prisoners, so military prosecutors already know they had a weapon of the type that was used as the murder weapon. But there are probably dozens of M107s in that region of Afghanistan. Sure, they could have dumped their rifle over the sea and it never would have been found. But then they'd have to come up with some way to explain how they'd managed to lose it. That'd be a very tough tale to spin in a way that was even remotely believable. Better to gamble on the odds that the bullet that killed the commander will never be found, and because of that, ballistics will never be able to prove it was that specific rifle that was used as the murder weapon."
Ice's mood had lightened a little bit while she'd been talking. She was in her element now. She had always enjoyed mentoring interns. To help them get into the criminal mindset and analyze why perpetrators would behave in certain ways under certain scenarios. That was especially true when the behavior went against what would be considered normal criminal behavior, such as in this case, hanging onto potentially incriminating evidence instead of disposing of it. Each case was unique, and an agent always had to be ready to think outside the box when certain actions didn't seem to fit the norm. Of course, the fact that Ice's heart beat a little more warmly when she was near Aspen made mentoring him even more pleasurable.
"So you think the prisoners are guilty then?" Aspen asked raising an eyelid.
"If by guilty, you mean do I think they are the ones who killed the militia commander? Yes, I do. But I also think there were extraordinary circumstances in play such that it may not be in the best interests of justice to punish them for murder." She took a deep breath and sighed, her ears lowering. "But unless I can prove it, all I've got is exactly what JAG says I have: Three marines who are guilty of the premeditated murder of an allied militia commander, and two pilots who are accessories to that murder."
Ice and Aspen both stared at the crime scene photos now, the stallion seeming to have desensitized somewhat to their graphic nature. Neither of them said anything. Aspen wore a pained expression on his muzzle. As if he were desperate to try to help her in some way, but could think of nothing to say. It definitely wasn't his fault. She'd run out cards. Exhausted all resources. Aspen couldn't think of anything to say because there was nothing to say. But he was trying anyway. She glanced at the clock, then rescued him from his self-imposed mental torture.
"You better go home and get to bed. You have early class in the morning," she said kindly.
"I wish there was something I could do to help," Aspen said, disappointment painted across his muzzle. Ice forced a smile.
"Thank you. But don't kick yourself over it. There's nothing left. Sometimes, that's just the way it happens in law. You can be absolutely certain … you can know in your heart and with every fiber of your being that something played out a certain way, but you just can't find the evidence to prove it. That's what happened here. I've played all the cards we have to play. I've given all I have to give. And it just wasn't enough." She frowned at her own statement. Yes, she had given all she had, and it had not been enough. Despite the fact that the odds had been stacked against her from the beginning because the American Government itself was trying to keep her from being able to prove what really happened, it still felt like a personal failure to her.
"Let me know if you need anything," Aspen said.
"I will." She forced another smile. Then Aspen turned and left her office. The door swung shut and latched, leaving Ice alone with her thoughts once again.
"Well, I guess you won, Reid," she said to herself. "Damn you … And damn all of your kind."
Reluctantly, she turned on the display for her computer.
% ptalk .mil
Ponytalk v 5.8, Connecting to .mil . . . . . . . .
Connection established … U.S. Navy, Judge Advocate General, Lieutenant Reid
Ice Moon: You there, Lieutenant?
It had been a conscious decision to use only his rank and not his name. Ice didn't want to dignify him by using his name.
Lieutenant Reid: I'm here. What can I do for you?
Ice felt like her hooves were made out of lead as she lifted them to type. It was as if invisible chains of her mind were trying to prevent her from doing so. She wished the chains were stronger. She really didn't want to say it. But there was nothing else she could do.
Ice Moon: I've finished my investigation. I'm going talk to Princess Cadance later today and recommend extradition. We'll make arrangements for transporting the prisoners into American military custody once my extradition recommendation has been approved. It shouldn't take long.
Lieutenant Reid:That's good news. Thank you.
"No, it's not," she spat.
Ice Moon: If there is nothing else?
Lieutenant Reid: There isn't. It's been a pleasure working with you, Ice Moon.
Ice Moon: I wish I could say the same.
\!q
Connection closed.
%
Why give him a chance to respond? There was nothing more to say.
Ice felt the numbness take over again. And with it, the blackness she'd forced out began to fill her mind once again. Her psyche was gathering bricks and mortar and tools as it prepared to start rebuilding the fortress she'd let Asalah tear down. What had failing to rebuild that fortress gotten her anyway? Nothing but pain and defeat.
But just as she was about to start laying the first bricks to rebuild the hardened bunker that had protected her psyche from shattering for the last twenty years, she heard the voice of Shining Armor from the dream. One statement poked at her mind: His name was Dale Sherman, in case you want to know. Private Dale Sherman, the American soldier who had fired the RPG round that had severed her wing from her body. She took a deep breath, a war raging in her mind. Then, against her better judgment, she turned on her computer display.
% sptalk Dolphin
Shadow Ponytalk v 5.8, Connecting to Dolphin …..
Digging SSH tunnel ….. Tunnel established
Encrypted connection established. Shadowbolt Cypher, 2048 bit key
Exchanging certificates ….. Positive ID established: Dolphin
Dolphin: Hello, Darkstar. How's the case going?
Darkstar: Hi, Dolphin. Not so well, I'm afraid. But I need a favor from you. Something unrelated to the case.
Dolphin: If I can do it I will.
She hesitated for a few moments, one part of her mind making a last stand and trying to tell her that this was an absolutely terrible idea. But she forced it down.
Darkstar: I need personnel records for a Private Dale Sherman. Circa 1991 by your calendar.
Dolphin: 1991? The Contact War? I hope you aren't aren't trying to open up old war wounds …
Darkstar: Sometimes you need to re-open a wound if you want it to heal.
Dolphin: If you're sure … Give me a minute to search for them. I may not have them in electronic format because they are so old. If I don't, we'll have to use middlemen to exchange physical documents.
Darkstar: Thank you.
Ice waited, a strong part of her mind still screaming at her that this was one of the worst ideas she had ever had. She considered simply ending the connection. But it was too late for that. Dolphin would simply reconnect, assuming the encrypted tunnel had collapsed. It wasn't uncommon for that to happen, given the large amount of onion routing that Shadow Ponytalk did to ensure that it was effectively impossible for anyone to track the origin or destination of any given data packet. Not that it would do anyone much good if they did figure out the endpoints. Shadow Ponytalk encrypted all communication with Shadowbolt Cypher. Shadowbolt Cypher was considered uncrackable, even by intelligence agencies that could devote entire supercomputers to doing it. The only way to crack a Shadowbolt encrypted message was brute force, and even the fastest supercomputers in the world would take longer than the universe had been in existence to do it.
Dolphin: You're in luck. I've got them in electronic format. Sending them now.
*** File transfer initiated: sherman_dale. .shadowbolt (830 Kb)
*** Transfer complete
Darkstar: Thank you.
Dolphin: You're welcome. I hope it helps to heal whatever wounds you are trying to heal.
Darkstar: Me too … Goodbye, Dolphin.
Dolphin: Goodbye.
Connection closed.
%
Ice copied the file to a hoof drive before transferring it to her off-network computer. She scanned it for viruses, but fully expected it to be clean. She trusted Dolphin. When she'd gotten the last file from him, it'd been like she was a filly on Hearth's Warming, waiting to open a present. But this, time, it was like waiting to open something that she was sure was going to burn her. Was there really any good reason to do this? Or was she just trying to torture herself for her own failures? Or, an even more sinister possibility, was she subconsciously looking for reasons to reinforce her own hatred of humans? She decided it was neither of those. She truly hoped that by learning something about the human who had maimed her, that just maybe, she could see him as something more than a monster. And then, just maybe, she'd be able to forgive him.
The virus scan finished. As she'd expected, it was clean. She used the password she'd agreed on with Dolphin to unlock and uncompress the archive, the whole while, part of her mind screaming at her to stop as if were screaming at somepony who were about to gallop off the edge of a cliff. This idea was crazy, it told her. She was only setting herself up for more pain. She forced herself to open the document file inside the archive as an invisible rope tried to tear her eyes away from the screen. But she kept them focused on it, starting to read the letters that appeared in front of her.
Name: Dale Sherman (deceased)
Rank: Private
Born: January 24, 1973
Died: September 5, 1991
Ice stopped for a moment. "He wasn't even nineteen years old," she mumbled before continuing.
Enlisted: January 26, 1990
Deployed to action: April 24, 1991
Killed in action: September 5, 1991
She frowned, feeling her hatred of the man melt just a bit, as if it were a block of ice that had been frozen for twenty years and for the first time, was seeing a ray of sunlight. The kid had barely been deployed for four months before her unit's attack had ended his life. She quickly scanned the rest of the page, then paged to the next one. The bold heading at the top caught her attention immediately. This was the section she had been most dreading. The moment in time that had changed her life forever … and ended his life.
CLASSIFIED * * * INCIDENT REPORT * * * CLASSIFIED
On September 5, 1991 at an unknown time, Command Post Baker 15 came under attack by an unknown Equestrian force during which all service personnel stationed at the command post, including Private Sherman, were killed. An investigation into the incident was able to determine little due to the state of the facility when it was found. However, the fact that no radio communication of an attack was ever received from the post suggests that there had been no warning of the attack, and that communication capabilities had already been destroyed before the personnel stationed at the post realized they were under attack. Evidence also indicates that a firefight ensued, but the disorganized and confused nature of the defense suggests that massive damage had already been done to the post before a defense could even begin to be mounted. A medic who arrived on the scene sometime after the attack determined that Private Sherman had been killed during the firefight by a single Hellfire blast to his forehead.
It was not possible to determine the circumstances of the attack on the post. However, the fact that there had been no warning of the attack and that no evidence was found of how the attackers arrived on site, where they had arrived, or how they left, strongly suggests the operation was carried out by Equestrian Special Forces. Furthermore, it was never discovered how Equestria found out about the existence of the post, or its importance to the war effort. Due to a near total lack of evidence or leads, no further inquiry was made into the incident.
"They don't even know it was a Bat Team Alpha raid," Ice said to herself in wonder. It had never occurred to her that their hit on the communication capabilities had been so devastating that the soldiers at the post had not been able to get any calls for support out at all. She found herself imagining what the last few minutes of Private Sherman's life had been like. Knowing he was trapped. Knowing he was going to die. And knowing that no help was coming. Why hadn't they simply surrendered, knowing how hopeless their situation was? With a shudder, she realized it was probably because they hadn't had time. Her own memories of that night were muddled and full of giant holes. They usually came in brief flashbacks that were often out of sequence and without any time reference. Like still photos that had been shuffled like a deck of cards, flashing in her mind as quick as lightning strikes. But she knew all too well that Bat Team Alpha was lethally efficient. Get in, accomplish the mission objective, and get out was the mantra. In the mass confusion, the human soldiers probably hadn't even had time to contemplate surrender. And by the time they did, it was already too late. It didn't help matters either that at that time, there had still been a lot of rumor and fear mongering floating around on both sides about what the other side did to captured prisoners of war. Perhaps, sadly, the humans had falsely believed that death was preferable to being caught. Ice lowered her ears before moving to the next page in the file. It was a newspaper clipping from what appeared to be Private Sherman's home town.
LOCAL SOLDIER KILLED IN MORTAR ACCIDENT
The U.S. Army reported today that Private Dale Sherman, a local soldier from Waterloo, was killed in a training accident at an undisclosed military firing range in Belgium. The Army said that Private Sherman was loading a 60 millimeter mortar into a firing tube when the tube exploded, killing him instantly.
Dale, 18, was born and grew up in Waterloo. He enlisted in the army a few days after his seventeenth birthday. Upon learning that he was being deployed overseas, he married his high school sweetheart two days before leaving.
Dale is survived by his wife, a one month old daughter, one brother, one sister, his parents, and his grandparents.
"His family doesn't even know the truth about how he died," Ice said aloud, her ears perking in agitation. A tear slid down her muzzle, as if to symbolize the ice block in her heart that was melting rapidly now. The kid had been married for only two days. He had a daughter who would never know her father. And his parents … No parent should ever have to bury their colt … But did they even get to bury him? The public story about his manner of death would not match the injuries he sustained from the Hellfire blast according to the incident report.
Ice shook her head slightly. She understood that sometimes it was necessary to lie about the manner of a soldier's death in order to protect national interests. But in this case, it seemed to make little sense. What point was there in denying the existence of the command bunker given that Equestria had already found it? Someone's ass was being covered. Someone who had fucked up and allowed the information about the command post to be leaked to Equestrian intelligence in some way or another. But of course, whoever Mr Fuck Up was was obviously more important than some eighteen year old private. If it were to get out that Sherman had been killed while stationed at a command bunker that Equestria wasn't even supposed to have known existed, that would cause tough questions to be asked. Perhaps there would even be a congressional inquiry. Better to cover it up, and let some nobody eighteen year old private take the fall. After all, he wasn't around to complain about it, right?
The more she thought about it, the more she pinned her ears back against her head in aggression. Yes, he had been responsible for her injury. For leaving her a disabled war vet. But of the two of them, she had come out of the war better than he had. It might have cost her her wings, but it cost him his life. And what did he get for it? Recognition as being a fallen soldier who was killed in battle? No. All he got was a mention in a local newspaper that was barely more than a footnote stating that he'd been killed in a training accident.
The ice in her heart continued to turn into a puddle of water. More tears slid down her muzzle, as if the water were using her eyes to escape. She wanted to write a letter to Dale's family, telling them the truth about how he had died. But she couldn't. Doing so would cause questions to be asked, about where she had gotten her information. And that might lead someone back to Dolphin. She felt disgust with herself, shame at knowing that she was now an unwitting part of this cover up. But there was nothing she could do about it except maintain the cover up the American Army had started. Doing anything else would violate one of the cardinal rules of espionage: Always, always protect your source. She had to protect Dolphin. And because of that, she could do nothing to right the wrong that had been done to Dale.
She narrowed her eyes, channeling her disgust into anger as she turned back to her primary computer. She might not be able to fix the injustice that had been done to Dale, but she could damn well make sure that another one wasn't done to the human soldiers sitting in the dungeon.
% ptalk .mil
Ponytalk v 5.8, Connecting to .mil . . . . . . . .
Connection established … U.S. Navy, Judge Advocate General, Lieutenant Reid
Lieutenant Reid: You got the extradition request granted already? That was fast.
Ice Moon: The extradition is off.
Lieutenant Reid: What?! You just told me less than two hours ago that you were going to recommend extradition!
Ice Moon: I changed my mind.
\!q
Connection closed.
%
She bared her fangs as she severed the connection. That police chief Parviz knew the truth. One way or another, she would make him talk.
XVIII
"Can I bring you anything else, ma'am?" the cinnamon brown unicorn servant asked. He was dressed in the standard livery of Crystal Palace servants: Powder blue cotton accented by gold cuffs and silver heart shaped buttons, along with golden trim at the neckline. The servant set a steaming cup of hot tea down on the crystal table in front of Ice. The spring-pleasant scent drifting toward her nostrils told her it was lavender.
"No, thank you," Ice said with a smile, which elicited a slight hint of nervousness in the servant's teal eyes. Sometimes a thestral's smile had that effect on ponies who weren't used to being around them. It was inevitable that their fangs showed when they made the expression. The persistent rumors about vampiric activity among thestrals certainly didn't help any. Ice quickly wiped the grin off her face to make the unicorn more comfortable.
"His Majesty will be with you shortly," the unicorn servant said with a respectful bow of his head. He left an extra teacup, along with the teapot sitting on the table on a crystal serving tray, then turned and left the room, the latch giving a slight click of metal on metal as he closed the door. Ice picked up the cup with her forehoof, savoring the flowery aroma before blowing across the top and then taking a sip.
She was in the same meeting room where she'd met Shining Armor last time. The one with the flags of the various nations Equestria had friendly relations with draping the walls. As she waited for the Prince to make his appearance – he was probably getting ready for bed, although she doubted he had actually gone to bed already – she thought on the problem of how she was going to get the village police chief to talk. The truth was, after what Parviz had done to the girl, she would have had no qualms at all about torturing the man to get information out of him. A sadistic smile split her muzzle at the thought of doing so, again causing her fangs to show. But the smile faded quickly. Her moral compass rebelled at the idea of torture, even when dealing with a parasitic piece of human manure like Parviz. And on a more objective level, information obtained through torture was usually unreliable anyway, since the prisoner usually told you whatever they thought you wanted to hear instead of telling you the actual truth. Of course, torture as a means of obtaining information was also highly illegal under both the Uniform Code of Pony Justice, and Crystal Empire legal code. If it were discovered that she had obtained information from Parviz using torture, anything he told her would be immediately rendered useless for any legal purpose. Not to mention the fact that she'd lose her job and, as an added bonus, she'd get to see what life was like on the other side of the dungeon cells for awhile.
She had another problem too. Even if she could figure out how to get Parviz to talk, how was she going to get close to him to begin with? And once she got close to him, she'd have to find some way to lure him somewhere private so she could interrogate him. Before she could think further on the problems, the door latch clicked. She stood up and turned around, to see Shining Armor walking into the room.
"My Lord," she said, bending one knee and bowing to the stallion.
"No need for that," he said, waving a forehoof dismissively. Ice came up from her bow and turned back to the table, picking up the teapot with her forehoof and pouring a cup for Shining Armor. Following proper protocol, she waited until the Prince had sat on his haunches at the table before she sat down again.
"Thank you for agreeing to see me this late on such short notice, My Lord."
"A pleasure," Shining Armor said, nodding his thanks. His horn glowed as he magically picked up the cup of tea and blew over the top for a moment before sipping it, then setting it back down on the table with more gentleness than Ice thought the powerful stallion should be capable of. He wasn't in the Royal Guard anymore, but the muscular ripples in his haunches, shoulders, and abs were evidence that he still kept himself in top military shape, as if he thought he might be called into battle at any moment. "Although I must admit I'm intrigued that you told the guard you specifically wanted to see only me and didn't want Cady to accompany me. This is something that's gonna get me in trouble with her, isn't it." It was a statement, not a question.
"How'd you shake her off anyway?" Ice was just stalling for time.
"I told her I was doing a late-night surprise inspection of the Palace Guard. It's something I actually do once in a while, so she believed the story. That's also gonna get me in trouble. When she finds out I lied to her." The Prince's voice had an accusing note in it. Ice nodded with a slight frown, a feeling of guilt crawling through her body as her own ears tiltled back slightly.
Well, no sense beating around the bush.
"I need to return to Afghanistan," she said as flatly as if she'd been stating that it was night outside.
Shining Armor's ears tilted backwards in response and a sheepish expression painted his muzzle. "Yeah … Like I said, something that's gonna get me in trouble with Cadance."
"I'm sorry, My Lord," Ice said sympathetically. "But after … well, after the bullet damage and such from last time, I figured there was no way Princess Cadance would let me go there again."
"You got that right." Shining Armor raised a forehoof, running it through his mane as if considering. "I don't suppose you want to tell me what you plan to do when you get there?"
"I don't know yet. But even if I did know, it would be better if I didn't tell you," Ice said, repeating the answer she had given when Cadance had asked her the same question before her first trip.
"I guess I should know better than to ask a former member of Bat Team Alpha what her plans are."
Shining Armor stood up and turned towards the empty hearth, staring into it as if he were hoping it were some kind of oracle that would give him advice. His ears were still tilted back, and his tail swished slowly back and forth. Ice just continued to sit there, averting her eyes to the floor and feeling like a convicted criminal must feel while sitting in front of a magistrate and waiting for him to pronounce judgment. After several long moments, the Prince shook his head and lowered his ears even further, as if resigned to some kind of horrible fate.
"I'm gonna be sleeping on the floor for the next week for this one," he mumbled to himself before turning around. But now that he was facing her again, his ears were alert, his head was up, and his stance was steady, his entire demeanor projecting power, control, authority, and confidence.
"When can you be ready to leave?"
"I need to stop at my apartment and grab a few things, but after that, as soon as you can have the chariot ready, My Lord."
Shining Armor nodded in response. "Very well. Of course, you'll have to leave from the skyport this time, since the front of your office is flooded with reporters. It would be best if they don't see you leaving. Who knows where they'd gallop off to with that story."
"Of course, My Lord," Ice said with a respectful nod.
But there was one more thing. She'd probably need Duncan's help again. Luna had contacted him in the dreamworld last time, and presumably she could do so again. But it wouldn't be safe to meet him at Bahrain's Coffee this time. Duncan had said that the owner of the coffee shop was the father of the girl they'd rescued. It would be entirely reasonable for Parviz to think the coffee shop owner had had something to do with the kidnapping / rescue of his own daughter. That meant that Bahrain's might be under surveillance. It wouldn't do for her to be seen meeting with an American soldier at that place, especially not if Duncan's story was true and American soldiers had filed multiple complaints with the local police about the treatment of children in the village. She wracked her brain, trying to think of some other place they could meet. Somewhere she had been in the village and could describe well enough for Luna to make sure Duncan knew where she was indicating. The inn was out of the question. The old man and his grandson no doubt didn't believe her story anymore that she'd been a reporter, and they probably wouldn't want her anywhere near the place if word of the kidnapping had reached them. And she didn't want to go back there again anyway. She had actually liked the boy, and his grandfather had seemed okay as well. She felt slightly sick with guilt, about the problems she might have caused for them with the village police. She definitely didn't want to make any more trouble for them. She'd rather avoid the cafe where Duncan had first approached her. The bartender, as well as a few of the soldiers, had probably paid enough attention to her to positively identify her as the same thestral who had been there before. Not that she suspected any of them would cause trouble for her. At least not when they were sober. If the stories she'd heard about the Americans being dismayed over the fact that they weren't allowed to do anything about the treatment of children were true, then they'd probably want to give her a medal if they thought she was the same pony who rescued the girl. The bartender, who had been a local, might not be so inclined to support her actions. But it was clear who his clientele were, and he'd probably go along with them to avoid alienating them. Ice herself, would probably be safe there. But she'd be putting Duncan at serious risk. The soldiers might support her actions, but they might not be so inclined to support one of their own being involved in a paramilitary black-ops rescue mission. Always protect the identity of your teammates. That was another rule of Bat Team Alpha.
She considered asking Duncan to meet her at the chariot, but she didn't know exactly where they'd land, and even if she did, describing landmarks to him so he could find it would be almost impossible. Furthermore, a single American soldier wandering outside of town alone might raise questions, as well as put him in danger of an ambush from insurgents.
Then, she remembered the distinctively crumbled structure that had caught her eye while she'd been walking to meet Duncan before the raid. The burned out building with the tall chimney still standing that she thought had probably been a blacksmith's workshop. Now if she could only remember where it was. Think, Ice, she commanded herself, trying to replay her walk between the inn and the forest grove near Parviz's house. Wait … she didn't have to remember exactly where it was, or how she'd gotten there. Duncan was the one who'd given her the route from the inn. As long as she could give Luna a good enough image of the burned out structure for Luna to project to him in the dreamworld, he would either know where it was, or at least be able to find it by simply following the same route he'd given her. Provided, of course, the building hadn't been completely leveled since she'd returned. The chimney had looked sturdy enough, and she doubted it would have fallen on its own. It also seemed unlikely that anyone would have torn it down. Given what she'd seen last time, demolition and clean up of ruined buildings didn't seem very high on anyone's priority list. Still, it would be good to have a backup plan in case one or both of them couldn't find the ruined forge. Behind the cafe, two side streets away would have to do for that. It wasn't ideal. Conceivably other Americans could see the two of them together there. But it was a fail-safe alternate that she was certain they would both be able to find. Luna willing, they wouldn't have to use it.
"There's one more thing," she finally said after all of her pondering.
"Yes?"
"I may need Duncan's help again. Will you – "
"Duncan?" The stallion narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "This isn't gonna be another one of those operations where you bring the chariot back shot full of holes is it?"
"No, I don't think so. Not this time. But I need you to contact Princess Luna for me and see if she can get a dream message to him. Tell him to meet me at the burned out smithy with the big chimney that's on the route he gave me to the police chief's house. Tomorrow, at the same time he met me last time." She then proceeded to give him a description of the ruined structure. It wasn't perfect, but it should be good enough to give Luna a strong enough image in the dreamworld that Duncan would know where she was talking about. "If he can't find that place, tell him to meet be two streets behind the cafe instead."
"Is it even possible for Luna to communicate with humans in the dreamworld?" Shining Armor asked, his ears perking up. Ice silently chastised herself. She'd forgotten that the Prince didn't remember anything from the dream. He did know she'd worked with a human named Duncan – she'd told him that much during the debriefing – but he didn't know that the only way she'd been able to reestablish contact with Duncan was via Luna entering his dreams.
"Oh, yes. She did it a few times during the Contact War, as part of a few Bat Team Alpha operations," Ice lied. "Of course, that's not something you'll want to go around mentioning to anypony." To the best of her knowledge, Luna had never attempted to communicate with any humans in the dreamworld during the Contact War. In fact, for all she knew, Duncan was the first time Luna had ever contacted a human in the dreamworld.
"Yet another Bat Team Alpha secret I didn't know," he said with a flick of his tail. Ice felt a cool sense of relief that he had bought the lie. "Okay, burned out smithy. If he can't find that, two streets behind the cafe. Got it. If there's nothing else, I'll get everything arranged. I should warn you, though, that you are probably going to get a tail chewing from Cady when you get back, given that you are a co-conspirator in this little deception. But at least she can't make you sleep on the floor."
"If this trip pays off the way I hope it will, I'll have a smile on my face even if she chews my tail clean off right at the roots."
She stood up and bowed to the Prince, a sense of guilt weighing on her over what she was asking him to do. The stallion waved a forehoof, once again indicating that there was no need for bowing. She rose, turned and walked to the door. Just before stepping out, she stopped and turned her head over her shoulder.
"My Lord?"
"Yes?"
"Is … is she really gonna make you sleep on the floor 'cause of this?"
He smiled good-naturally and shook his head. "No. But she's not going to be happy about it and I'll get an earful over it. And as I said, expect that you'll catch some fallout over it as well."
"Good to know you'll be sleeping in a warm bed tonight at least, My Lord."
"Guess it's better than the chariot floor you'll be sleeping in on your red-eye flight."
"That it is, My Lord," she said before opening the door and stepping out.
"And Ice?" She stopped, the door half open, turning her head over her shoulders to look at him.
"My Lord?"
Shining Armor flicked his tail and laid his ears back slightly. "I would tell you to be careful … but for all the good it did last time when Cadance told you the same thing."
"I'll be as careful as I can, My Lord," Ice said, then turned her gaze forward again, stepping out of the room and pulling the door shut behind her. She quickly made her way through the palace corridors and out into the courtyard. Fortunately, the gate guards knew her by now, and were used to her coming and going at odd hours, otherwise they might have refused to let her leave this late without official orders from either Shining Armor or Cadance. Once outside the palace grounds, she made her way to her apartment at a trot, pondering the problem of how to get Parviz into a situation where she'd be able to interrogate him.
It occurred to her that the guards at his house had seen a pony running off with his child wife, but that given she was covered from tail to muzzle in dark cloth and it was night, they wouldn't have been able to positively identify her. Furthermore, given her lack of wings, they would have probably reported to Parviz that it was an earth pony that had broken into his house and kidnapped his wife. That could work to her advantage. She could pose as an investigator from the Crystal Empire Department of Justice investigating an international kidnapping. No, not the Crystal Empire Department of Justice. The Equestrian Department of Justice. That would dispel any question of whether the killing of the militia commander and the kidnapping of the girl might be connected. In the middle of the night, it'd be highly unlikely the guards that were shooting at the chariot would have been able to identify the pegasi pulling it as Crystal Ponies. And as far as putting heat on Equestria by framing them for the kidnapping? That wasn't a concern either. Parviz would know soon enough that he'd been duped, that she wasn't really from Equestria, and wasn't really there about the kidnapping. He'd figure that out as soon as she had him alone and the interrogation began.
She arrived at her apartment, climbing the stairs and going through the hall until reaching her door. The trash she'd left out there this morning was gone. There'd be no retrieving the scarves, saddle pad, and tail wrap she'd thrown away. That was fine, though. She had no intention of trying to disguise herself for this meeting.
Once inside, she went to her bedroom and pulled open the middle drawer on her nightstand. She dug through it, pulling out a nondescript green file folder, setting it on the bed, and then opening it. Inside was a collection of various fake identification badges she'd collected over the years. Actually, fake was the wrong word. They were all real, issued by the department for undercover work. They had real photos of her, but false names and agencies she had never worked for, or had not worked for in years. She rifled through the badges. She was certain that she had a badge in there for the Equestrian Department of Justice. There it was.
She looked it over, concentrating on the photo at first. It was recent. Recent enough to fool Parviz, or most anyone else for that matter. Her wing joints were covered in it, of course, but that wasn't a real problem. The expiration date was still good. Just over two months left on it. Her eyes moved to the name and she frowned. Snow Dancer? Definitely not the name she would have chosen, but it would have to do. She quickly went over all of the encounters she'd had with humans in Afghanistan. She was reasonably certain no one except Duncan knew her name. Not even the boy Omid or his grandfather at the inn had wanted her name. They just gave her a room, no questions asked. Given the inn's usual clientele and the … activities that went on in the rooms, it was understandable that the owner didn't ask for names.
Even though no one except Duncan knew her name, she still had another problem. Both Omid and his grandfather could potentially identify her, as could the man who owned the bar, and any of the American service members who had been inside. She doubted that Omid or his grandfather would have talked. They probably didn't want to attract any unnecessary attention to themselves, given the fact that she'd stayed in their inn, combined with the other activities that went on in their business. She doubted any of the American service members would talk either. Duncan's reaction to what was going on with the children in the village, combined with the obvious dismay of the service member she'd met in the bar who had told her it was dangerous for her to walk the village alone, caused her to believe that most of the service members probably supported her actions. But there was still the bar owner to contend with. He was still the great unknown.
And then there were the few men she'd encountered while walking into the city. She doubted any of them had gotten a good enough look at her to make a positive identification. Most of those encounters had been from a distance, with the men jeering at her from rooftop balconies and such. It's possible that from that distance, they might have even mistaken her for a dark colored earth pony. Or if they'd recognized her as a thestral, they might have simply thought she was trying to be respectful of local custom, which dictated that females kept themselves covered. They might have thought the saddle pad and saddle bags were simply covering her wings, rather than covering up the fact that she didn't have any wings. And if the question came up, she could truthfully claim that she wasn't the only thestral in Equestria who'd sustained a war injury serious enough to require amputation of her wings. An odd coincidence that the thestral sent to investigate the crime also had no wings? Perhaps. But not an impossible one. And she had an ID to back up her story and prove she really was an investigator from the Equestrian Department of Justice.
But whether questions would be raised or not, it was a risk she'd have to take. There was nopony else she could send on this mission, given that Cadance likely wouldn't even allow the mission at all if she knew what Ice was up to.
She pulled the one small saddlebag she still had out of the closet and shoved the badge into it. This bag wouldn't hold very much. But she wouldn't be taking very much with her this time. This time, there would be no need to pose as anything other than what she really was: An agent who was investigating a crime. It's just that she was going to mislead Parviz about what crime she was actually investigating. She grabbed a notebook and two pencils, adding them to the bag. As Princess Twilight Sparkle would say, one never knew when the opportunity might come up to take a note. She also grabbed her UV blocking sunglasses and tossed them in.
She went back to the closet again, frowning as she stared at the empty space that looked like she had either just moved in, or had packed everything and was moving out. She was going to need handcuffs. Parviz was likely to become very uncooperative very quickly one he found out her true reason for talking to him. She'd need some way to restrain him. She'd had several pairs during her days with Bat Team Alpha. It had often been necessary to handcuff human prisoners they captured. But like everything else that reminded her of those days, she'd gotten rid of the handcuffs along with an entire box full of other war memorabilia. She'd have to hope that Duncan could come up with a pair. That should be easy enough. Surely, they'd need them for captured insurgents.
At least, however, the video camcorder was still sitting in one corner. She often used that during investigations to record crime scene evidence. She'd need that to record the interrogation. The camcorder had infrared and night modes, too. She'd likely need that capability. Her own word that Parviz had confessed to taking and destroying the reports from the American servicemen, and that he knew of the militia commanders activities with young boys and girls would be good enough for Princess Cadance – good enough for Crystal Court – but Ice wanted a slam dunk. She wanted damning, indisputable proof that the dead militia commander had been a child rapist. She wanted something where if she had to, she could play it for Reid so that he wouldn't be able to give her any shit. Not that she thought that would be necessary. She was convinced that Reid already knew the truth about what was going on over there and had placed all his bets on the hope that she wouldn't be able to discover it.
She gave her room a quick once-over, making sure there was nothing else she might want to take with her. Finding nothing, she closed the flap on the bag and tied it shut. Then, she slung it over her back, strapped it in place, and left her apartment again, stepping outside into the night and trotting towards the skyport. The silver light of Luna's nearly Full Moon reflected off the polished sidewalks as if they were the surface of a perfectly calm lake. A few blocks away, the lights of the palace courtyard danced playfully on the crystal spires of the palace. But this night, Ice's mind was too busy to appreciate the breathtaking beauty of the city at night.
She arrived at the skyport some ten minutes later, finding an unmarked chariot waiting for her. Two pegasus guards from Equestria were harnessed up and waiting to go. That was a stroke of good luck for her. It hadn't occurred to her to ask Shining Armor to ensure that the crew assigned to her flight were Equestrian Pegasus Guard rather than Crystal Guard. When she'd talked to him, she hadn't yet decided to pose as a criminal investigator from Equestria. These days, most airlift operations had been turned over entirely to the Crystal Guard, but Pegasus Guard Airlift Command still filled in on occasion. The fact that the Pegasus Guard was handling this flight would strengthen the illusion that she was from Equestria instead of the Crystal Empire.
Both stallions turned their heads and looked at her.
"Good evening, ma'am," the higher ranking of the two, a first lieutenant said. The other's rank insignia indicated he was a second lieutenant. "I'm Lieutenant Thunderbolt and this is Lieutenant Hailstorm. You're not going to get us shot at I hope?"
"You heard about that?" Ice said, lashing her tail once like a whip.
"I'm pretty sure all of Airlift Command has heard about that."
Ice frowned. She considered having a talk with the commander of Crystal Airlift Command about it, but then realized she couldn't be sure that the pegasi who had pulled the chariot were responsible for the information leak. It could just have easily have been one of the medical ponies, or one of the ground crew, or any other guard stationed in the military section of Crystal Skyport for that matter. Fortunately, it seemed that even though they couldn't keep a secret amongst themselves, they were all at least capable of keeping their mouth shut when it came to the press. If it had leaked outside of military circles, the press would have known about it by now and by extension, so would she.
"I don't think anypony's gonna get shot at this time." Not that she could guarantee that, of course. She really had no idea what was going to happen this time, given she still had no idea how she was going to get Parviz to talk, or even how she was going to lure him somewhere private. Talking at his house was clearly out of the question. There's no way his guards would let her interrogate him. "I'm sorry you had such short notice of this trip," she added sympathetically.
"If we wanted the drudgery of a set schedule, we'd wouldn't have joined the Pegasus Guard," Hailstorm said. "Besides, we've never been to Afghanistan before. Could be an interesting mission."
"Well, unlike the last crew that flew me over there, at least you two will be able to come into the village. For the first night anyway. we'll see after that … Although, the village is a rather depressing place. You may decide you prefer to stay outside of it." She thought of the refuse heaps, the rotting garbage, the crumbling buildings, and, with a feeling of sadness, Omid. Poor Omid who just seemed to just accept things the way they were, never complaining, never wanting for anything better. Part of her wanted to grab the boy and spirit him away to the Crystal Empire like she'd done with the girl. But such thoughts were foolish to even contemplate. She couldn't kidnap every boy and girl in Afghanistan who she thought deserved a better life. The girl had been a reasonable exception, given she'd rescued her from sexual slavery.
In this case, it would actually be best if the Pegasus Guards did accompany her into the village. Unlike last time, there was no reason to lay low. In fact, doing so would only look suspicious. This time, anything that enhanced the illusion that she was there on official business would be a welcome benefit. The Pegasus Guards accompanying her as escorts would certainly help to amplify the misdirection about why she was there. It wouldn't look at all out of place for a mare to have two armored stallions as security detail. Not given the warning that the American soldier at the bar had given her about it being unsafe for females to wander the village alone. Yes, she was fully capable of defending herself. But … well, she had to admit she'd still feel more comfortable with the two burly armored stallions escorting her. It's unlikely any of the perverts in the village would even dare to look at her the wrong way with the two of them there. The stallions would prevent any unwanted attention from jeopardizing her primary mission objective.
The door on the chariot was already open. She unfastened her saddlebag, then unceremoniously tossed it into the chariot, the bag making a slight clanging sound as it hit the far wall. She climbed in after it.
"Ready when you are," she said, pulling the door shut. She felt a few soft bumps as the chariot taxied away from the boarding ramp. A few seconds later, they pitched up and were airborne. As soon as the wheels left the ground, the ride became as smooth as gliding across a freshly fallen blanket of snow. The ground had cooled enough that most of the thermal updrafts were gone, and the night air was as calm as a forest pond on a windless spring afternoon. Unlike last time when she'd left the city, she left the curtains open. She'd seen Crystal City from the air during the day when she'd flown in with the girl. But as majestic as the city had been in daylight, with its prism-like crystals reflecting the light of the Sun, she had been itching for the chance to see it after dark. She was a thestral, after all. The night was her domain. She glued her muzzle to the window and the sight that met her eyes was even more stunning than she'd ever imagined it could be.
Moonlight played on the crystal buildings, dancing like thousands of stars, almost making it appear as if down were up and up were down. The light from the street lamps echoed off the polished roads making the streets look as if they were spokes on a wheel made of pure light, all of them leading to Crystal Palace, as well as drawing her eyes to the palace. The palace itself was the centerpiece of a grand display of lights. Its towering spires reached for the sky like mountains, reflecting the light of the decorative torches that lined the palace walkways so that it looked like thousands fireflies were dancing around the towers. The flags of the Crystal Empire flapped lightly in a thin breeze, their blue and gold emblems dancing in the spotlights that shined on them. Fountains in the courtyard erupted in columns of sparkling water, shining with the multicolored lights from their pools, then tumbling back down into their ponds of water like showers of sparks from rainbow-colored fireworks. The palace, fountains, streets, and buildings of the city worked together so that it was like flying over a moonlit lake filled with millions of stars and dancing with the light of thousands of campfires.
Ice stared in awe at the kaleidoscope of art passing by beneath her like a moving picture of light, all thoughts of the case being stripped from her mind. Why hadn't anypony told her how breathtaking Crystal City looked at night? She'd spent so much time drowning in self-pity for the last ten years, that she had missed all of this. She savored the view as long as possible, like a feast of the best palace cuisine prepared just for her eyes. Eventually, the stars on the ground begin to thin out. The streets of golden light began to look more like sparse stones of light, and the silver Moonlight became lost in the trees. Ice craned her head, pressing the side of her face to the window and trying to keep the majestic light show in view for as long as possible. But gradually it faded from view like the distant remnants of a dream upon waking. She took a deep breath, then turned away from the window, pulling the curtains shut as she did. It would be daylight in less than six hours, and she planned to sleep through most of the flight. The thoughts about the case and her current mission flooded back into her mind as if she'd been reading a book, turned the page, and found that it was a completely different story than the one she'd been reading while staring out the window. So hypnotic had the aerial night view of the city been.