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. Next Chapter: XVIII Estimated time remaining: 25 Minutes