KABOOM
Rarity screeched and flailed, the nearby explosion ripping her from sleep. Her hooves pounded off the thick steel of the box she was in.
It really wasn’t a bad box, all things considered. The padded seat beneath Rarity lay back like a recliner. The solid walls that allowed plenty of room around her were painted antiseptic white. Three small rectangular windows let in some light, and a few dials and indicator lights glowed with soft illumination.
The worst part was that Rarity had no idea how she had gotten there and had no idea how to get out.
“Did we wake you up, driver?” chuckled a voice in Rarity’s ear.
“I’m awake,” she grumped, pawing at her head. She seemed to be wearing a set of earphones with an attached microphone. It seemed that without them, the voices would be lost among a high pitched background whine. Rarity had no idea what the sound might be.
She went on. “Who am I speaking to? What was that loud noise just a moment ago?”
Several seconds of silence passed and then the voice came back, sounding cautious. “First, let me ask you a question. What is your name?”
“My name is Rarity. I’m a dressmaker from Ponyville and—”
Several voices spewing curse words drowned her out. The original voice cut through the cacophony, barking at “Floyd” and “Prosser” to get out and “take care of her.”
Rarity began to grow anxious. Was the voice on the intercom a pony? What sort of creatures would have names like that? And were they taking care of her, or taking care of her?
There was a sound like a heavy metal hatch opening. Muted steps sounded from somewhere above Rarity’s head, coming closer. Part of the light from the small windows went dark.
“Don’t freak out, okay Rarity?” called a voice from right outside. There was a squeak of machinery, perhaps a latch. Rarity looked upwards in anticipation as a hatch began to open.
Two strange creatures wearing headsets peered in. They were both dressed in a mottled grey-green uniform, with tags that read “U.S. Army.” One had the nametag “Floyd” and the other was “Prosser.”
“Please don’t be fucking with us,” said Prosser. He and his companion hadn’t moved forward to attack, so Rarity decided to just let them sit there outside the hatch. She wasn’t about to trust them, but they seemed more annoyed with her than anything.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you are talking about,” Rarity articulated evenly. “Can you tell me where I am?”
“Christ, Private Belle did it again,” muttered Floyd, shaking his head. “Sorry, ah, Rarity. I know you’re weirded out and not supposed to be here.”
Gaining confidence, and also some confusion, Rarity asked, “Do you mind explaining what has happened to me?”
“Long story short, we are called people,” Prosser pointed to himself and Floyd, “and our buddy who used to be one of us volunteered for an experiment that turned him into a unicorn. Every once in a while, Belle loses his mind and you take over.”
That did not clear things up in the slightest but Rarity politely limited herself to one question at a time. Prosser sighed. “Well, at least we can use your TK up in the turret and finish up this exercise. Let’s get you out of the driver’s seat.”
Floyd and Prosser offered hands, which Rarity let them use to grab her forehooves. They hauled her out of the box she had been inside.
Rarity was slightly startled to realize that she was wearing one of the same ugly uniforms that the two people wore, although suitably tailored to fit her body. The nametag read "Belle." Taking her eyes off the camouflage cloth, she looked around to find herself standing atop a large angular machine. It was painted olive green. Trees were to the side and behind it, while a bare dirt trail was below.
“Come on, let’s get you up to the turret,” said Prosser, nudging Rarity upwards. Floyd slipped into the seat where Rarity had been. After a moment, he emerged again, frowning and showing off an empty brown bottle with a red label. Prosser rolled his eyes and grabbed it, continuing to escort Rarity to the top of the machine.
There was another hatch up there and Rarity took that to mean she was supposed to go inside. There didn’t seem to be any easy way of going about that, however. Fortunately, another person appeared in the hole and offered a hand.
Between Prosser and the new person, they got Rarity inside. She found herself in a space much larger than before. There were many controls and devices that she didn’t recognize, but was grateful for the chance to stretch out.
Prosser closed the overhead hatch with a clang. He turned to the other person and handed over the empty bottle. “Belle was drinking again, TC.”
The one called TC accepted the bottle and looked at it sadly. “Well, I suppose when our driver gets back, we’ll have to do something about this. I don’t want to kick his ass out, but I just can’t cover for him.”
Rarity shifted uncomfortably. “Am I to understand that I have replaced your driver?”
“Yeah.” TC shrugged. “Not your fault, Rarity. For some strange reason, whenever Belle drinks Killian’s, he turns into, well…you.”
“Is this some sort of military unit?” Rarity asked. “I take it that drinking on duty is not allowed?”
“Got that right,” called Floyd through the intercom. It seemed that he had taken over as the driver. “But even if we have to file a report when we get back, we can at least finish the exercise, right Tank Commander?”
TC nodded. “Yeah, I guess it couldn’t hurt. Rarity, just do what we tell you and try not to steal our secrets, okay?”
She gasped. “I’m not a spy!”
Everyone else chuckled, either in front of her or through the intercom. “Yeah, you sure don’t look Chinese,” commented Prosser.
Rarity didn’t know how to take that comment and kept silent.
TC listened to a radio for a moment and then announced, “Okay, we’re cleared for more shooting. Gunner, sabot - tank.”
“Grab one of those and stuff it in here,” said Prosser to Rarity, pointing to a rack of cylindrical objects and a dark hole in front of them. Obediently, she lifted one of the strange tubular things and slid it into the horizontal shaft. It fit neatly.
Prosser pulled a lever and a metal wedge closed over the top of the hole. “Up,” he called to TC.
“Stand back and be ready for the noise,” Prosser directed Rarity. He turned to a small device like a telescope, that was somehow electronic, and pressed his face to it. He announced, “Identified.”
“Fire and adjust,” ordered TC.
“On the way!”
KABOOM
Despite the warning she had received, Rarity jumped. The breech of what she now realized was a cannon recoiled, pistoning into the place where she had just been standing. She made a note of where the danger zone was, and to stay out of it.
While Rarity herself did not know very much about weapons, a pony could only spend so much time around Pinkie without learning about her party cannon. Rarity understood that the military used much more serious kinds of cannons. It did not take a genius to know what she was dealing with.
As the main gun recoiled to its former position, the spent cannon shell thudded out onto the floor. Rarity picked up a fresh one and loaded it. "Up!"
Prosser gave her a nod of thanks and turned back to his devices. “Identified.”
“Fire and adjust.”
“On the way!”
KABOOM
“What exactly are we shooting at?” Rarity asked, loading the gun again.
“Practice targets. They’re about 2500 yards away,” replied TC. “We’ve scored solid hits on every shot, too.”
“Impressive.” While the implications of such a weapon were astonishing, Rarity appreciated that kind of precision. Knowing she had helped accomplish the feat was nice, too.
“I hate to say this, TC,” said Prosser as he lined up another shot, “but it’s too bad we can’t keep Rarity around. She’s not useless as a loader. She’s polite. Even when she’s not Rarity, we’re basically wasting her unicorn talents as a tank driver.”
TC shrugged. “I don’t make the rules. Oh, and fire.”
KABOOM
Rarity jolted awake, somewhat surprised to find herself resting on her bed upstairs in the boutique where she lived and worked. She sighed and fell back. It had been that damn dream again.
Rarity was not prone to harsh language, and even if the infuriating dream deserved it, she chastised herself to stooping for such vulgar terms.
The sun was just beginning to creep under her window shades. It was still early, but Rarity was not about to go back to sleep. She dragged herself out of bed and spent several minutes getting her appearance presentable. Not fabulous, just enough so that she could go out in public for a quick trip to the library. She needed to talk to Twilight.
Rarity’s cat, Opalescence, lounged in her basket by the door. Not wanting to draw the ire of her pet so early in the morning, Rarity passed by without waking her.
Stepping outside, Rarity looked both ways before hurrying over to the tall tree that housed the Ponyville library. Letting herself in, she called, “Twilight? Could I have a word with you?”
“She’s upstairs,” called Spike. He came into the room, looking worried. This was strange, as he was usually fawning over Rarity whenever she was in range of his affection.
“I think something’s wrong with Twilight,” Spike said.
“Suck it up…ah, darling,” Rarity replied. She blushed, but quickly stepped past Spike to hide the emotion. That response she'd given Spike was completely unprecedented. Rarity wondered if something might be wrong with her, too.
She found Twilight upstairs, feverishly hunched over her computer. There was a ponynet webpage up on the screen, and Rarity could see that it was some sort of writing site.
Hearing Rarity come in, Twilight hurriedly minimized the window and turned. “Oh Rarity, what are you doing here?”
Rarity was curious what her friend was up to, but decided not to ask. “I’ve been having a strange fuc—um, a strange dream lately and I hope you could help.”
Twilight’s eyebrows furrowed at hearing Rarity’s almost slip of the tongue, but said, “Actually, I’ve been having strange dreams, too. You tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.”
The two of them spent the next several minutes trading information. Rarity caught herself almost uttering profanity several more times but managed to stop herself at each instance.
As the two mares talked, a surprising pattern emerged. There was a facinating similarity to their dreams, mainly the fact that they both involved strange creatures called people, who were a part of the United States of America’s military. Different branches to be sure, but it certainly couldn’t be a coincidence.
“Why are we suddenly tapping in to this unusual network of consciousness?” Twilight muttered. “We need to figure out why this is happening.”
“Damn right,” Rarity murmured in agreement, this time not bothering to censor herself.
She glanced out the window at a few early morning pegasi flying by. She had a sudden urge to get ahold of Pinkie’s party canon and fire at them, screaming, “Get some!”
Rarity shuddered. In the state she was in, barely able to control her speech, downloading a copy of Apocolypse Meow for Opal had been a terrible idea.
Lol, love it.
The mad wizard gives you his personal thanks.
What if the ponies are all just the fever dreams of soldiers who cracked under pressure, and their buddies just go along with it?
3015606 It's an interesting what-if, but I have bigger, more diabolical plans in mind.
Yesh! :3
1531014 Oh, wow. I read this story 40 weeks ago, but today I go on the front page and see it fetured. I want to congradulate you on you front pageness.
dtlux1
EDIT
OH! YES! NEW CHAPTER! I didn't see that. I must read, even if it has been 40 weeks
dtlux1
This story. I have no words to adequately describe it.
OH MY GOD IT'S A SERIES NOW
DJRWI JDJXUEIQKAKOSL
I SMASHED MY FACE ON THE KEYBOARD FROM ALL THE GOODNESS
Well, interesting.
I wonder who's next?
What kind of strange spell could this be?
Awaiting further releases.
Oh Hell Yes. An update to THIS? ALL OF MY YES. XD
Unexpected sequels are the best sequels!
I can hardly wait to see where you take this.
So let's see. The USA is experimenting on soldiers, turning them into colorful (and as far as we know, female) ponies which coincidentally happen to match up with ponies from Equestria, and when those ponies get drunk, they wake up with their Equestrian counterpart's personality and no idea of what's going on, and the Equestrian ponies themselves experience these periods as uncannily-detailed dreams that end with some intense, startling physical sensation. That about right?
You'd think they'd become accustomed to it to some degree by now, possibly even remember things from dream to dream, but...
her her her
Let me guess RD will become someone in the airforce right?
Ragequit right there.
u got teh fier commandez rong.
u sukx.
3015761
All my this.
Woo, looks cool.
Yep, my headcanon was right.
Please read comment section of the last chapter. Thank you.
Well it may have been a coincidence but I did ask for Army, and I can picture were she ended up at, Ft. Hood.
Fluttershy: Field Medics Corp 'waking up' to horrific injuries. Fun. IED's loaded with ratsak and coming to terms with people willingly doing this to other people.
Rainbow Dash: Do I... Do I even need to bother?
Applejack, now, she's a bit harder. We'd have to say- FRONTLINE INFANTRY.
Pinkie Pie, now, she's the hardest of the lot. I mean, the thing is, she'd just know what was going on. Somehow. I suspect she'd be some sort of supersoldier constantly commiting horrific atrocities and using Ponyville as a form of mental escapism... Not unlike Meet the Pyro, come to think of it.
3015985 Let me sing you the song of my people.
3016057 Yeah, my first foray into writing about the Army was not researched as well as I usually do. With your input, I'd be happy to change it.
Fucking yes! This really is a sweet story premise, and I'm glad you decided to continue it.
3016521
TC: "Gunner, sabot(or HEAT, COAX), tank(Truck, Troops)!" *NOTE* This is on the offensive, which means the tank is moving. if it was a defensive engagement, he would also say, "Driver move out," at which time the driver pulls up to the berm*
Loader:*loads the ordered round and raises the lever, arming the main gun* "UP!" *NOTE* If the TC orders "COAX", which is the gunner's M240, the loader does nothing*
Gunner: *Upon seeing the target* "IDENTIFIED!"
TC: "FIRE AND ADJUST!"
Gunner: "ON THE WAY!"
BOOM!
If Defensive:
TC: "Target, target, cease fire, driver move back."
If Offensive, just "Target, Target, cease fire."
If you need any other advice, I was a tanker for 6 years. Also, you would NEVER open the hatch on the range. MAJOR safety no-go. But since we're talking about a person turning into a talking pony, I think we can forgive that.
Interested :) Keep going!
This is awesome! And loads of fun to read. I'm glad you decided to continue it!
YES! RD in the airforce, I will CREAM.
3016589 Thanks a lot! Since you're already involved in this chapter, is there anything else I could change?
Yay, continuation! This is going to be AWESOME.
AGAIN IT COMES. WE ARE READY TO RECEIVE IT, A PLACE HAS BEEN PREPARED. OUR BODIES ARE READY.
This premise as a series reminds me of that "This isn't my room" series. That's a good thing, and I'm looking forward to this.
I remember this story! So you're making it a series now, huh? Sweet! Can't wait for more. In both chapters you've done a great job of establishing good, like-able characters in a short amount of time and I look forward to more of them.
I have a suggestion for Rainbow's chapter: don't put her in the Air Force. It's a bit too obvious, I think. While I know not every, or even most, jobs in the Air Force involve flying, which could in fact be an interesting revalation for Dash, personally, I think it'd be interesting if she was on a submarine, basically as far from flying as you can get, or, at the other extreme, as an astronaut up in the ISS. I imagine she'd be pretty awed by seeing the planet stretched out below her, as well as learning that she's traveling at several kilometers per second.
3020810 Oh, I have a plan
Just one question. What is a TK?
You get a moustache for that title.
Have Fluttershy in the NAVY!!! She could be in one of the turrets of an Iowa! That would be funny. 'Shy as a Marine would be funnier, though.
3022245 telekinesis
I'm guessing Killian's ties into the plot somehow.
Man ... now i want a Killian's (aint had one in years) but i am kinda afraid of turning into Pinkie ...
Oh, f*** yeah! I love the one shot and this is more of the same good stuff.
What is Killian's? I assume it is some manner of alcohol.
*edit* ok next chapter explains it... Beer. meh Vodka's where its at.
I love she's trying to censor herself. 9 and 1/2 Scootaloos and the Scootaloo Seal of Approval.
Ha. No they really aren't bad boxes at all, and can at times be quite lovely.
"Usually the good Lord works in mysterious ways, but not today. This here is 66 tons of straight-up, HE-spewing, dee-vine intervention. If God is love, then you can call me Cupid!" -Sgt. Johnson
3016589
hooah, couldn't have been said better.
Though I will add that somehow Rarity knew exactly what round to grab (there is a huge difference between sabot, heat, can and mpat)
Actually this whole story I'm confident I'll love the whole way through now, wish rarity's dream was way longer then it was, the plot seems interesting enough as well.
Time to continue :)
haha nice. i used to play a game called Armored Fist 3 all the time. any good modern tank simulators?