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. Next Chapter: XI Estimated time remaining: 2 Hours, 49 Minutes