//------------------------------// // Fragile Unity // Story: Convergence Side-story: Downtime. // by Doctor Fluffy //------------------------------// Chapter Five: Fragile Unity. Written by: Doctor Fluffy, Jed R, TheIdiot. Editors RoyalPsycho, The Void. *** “Even so, I will...! I will believe! I will believe in the me that believes in us, humans and the future! This drill is... my SOUL!” Tengen Toppa: GURREN LAGANN! “Whatever it was, would be you, could be you.” ‘Einstein’, Farscape: Unrealized Reality. *** Canterlot Palace Courtyard, Canterlot, Year 2 Anno Harmonia - ‘Downtime’ Equestria. A small group of humans had come in after Blueblood’s entrance - a handful of men in various suits, carrying suitcases, as well as a few more scruffy looking individuals. Blueblood - this new Blueblood - was speaking with them, no doubt giving them some instructions. The lilac adjutant was stood by his side, speaking up every so often. Celestia glanced at Luna, who shrugged. Marcus and Stephan were already approaching the human group, talking with some of the scientists. “I know very little of their world,” she whispered. “The only one of their people I've met is David Elliot.” Celestia nodded slowly. “Might I suggest you invite the Prince to join us in our throne room for a conference in a few hours?” “Why me?” Luna asked. “They are Night Guard,” Celestia pointed out slightly teasingly. “And even if they weren't, I rather suspect they'll still be more receptive to your presence than mine.” Luna sighed. “Alright. I suppose in that respect you're correct.” She straightened, before approaching the small group of Night Guard. At her approach, the soldiers tensed, and the new Blueblood and his adjutant turned to look at her. “Night Guard!” the Prince called. “Stand to attention!” “Et Luna Gloriosa!” the lilac adjutant called. “Noctis aeterna!” one of the Night Guard yelled, and the rest echoed the cry. Luna blinked - the display was rather more primal than she had seen from Night Guard before. “Greetings,” she said with a regal bow to the Night Guard. “Our Equestria is honoured by your presence.” “The honour is to serve!” one of the Night Guard called. Luna smiled. “Prince Blueblood: we - that is, my sister and I - would be honoured if you would join us in the throne room in three hours?” Blueblood bowed. “The honour will be mine to be there, your highness. We will await your summons in the courtyard.” Luna nodded, before turning and heading back to Celestia. “Three hours,” she said. “He’ll wait in the courtyard for us to send somepony.” “I’ll be sure to have Iustita greet him with her best,” Celestia said with a nod. She turned and headed for the door, motioning for Luna to follow. For a long moment, the two of them simply walked in silence. “What do you make of them?” Luna asked quietly. “I'd say they're definitely different,” Celestia said with a small smile. “Did you see the armour?” “What about it?” Luna asked, “It's heavily practical,” Celestia said softly. “The shapes and curves are superficially similar to our own, but they actually serve very important functions, funnelling the kinetic force of a blow to particular areas. It's as though it was built for the front line in a way that ours was not.” “That makes sense, though,” Luna said. “Remember what we saw - these are ponies for whom war remains a recent and relevant experience, a reality still plaguing their lives.” “Indeed,” Celestia said, her smile fading. “Which makes one wonder just what sort of ponies such a history creates.” *** Marcus and Stephan approached the group of humans that had come through. Marcus wasn't eager to meet this world’s version of Blueblood, much as he sounded like he was probably a little less of a pain in the ass than the one he'd already met. Instead he approached the armoured figures, his eyes widening slightly. “Well,” he said softly. “It's good to see you guys have something useful.” One of the figures turned to him and Stephan, before moving to remove his helmet, revealing a stern looking woman with blonde hair and a scar across one eye. “I’m Samantha Yarrow, Captain, in charge of the Iron Clad detachment,” she said easily. She motioned to her troops. “We've got a combination of standard BDF and Knights of Albion here. We’re primarily the escort for Mr Steed, Mr Lachlan, Mr Halford and so on.” ‘Whatever you do,’ Marcus thought, Don’t bring up our Yarrow. Maybe later, but now now.’ “Ah, excellent!” a reedy voice in an English accent said, and one of the suited men - wearing a tweed jacket with worn elbow patches - approached Marcus and Stephan, holding out his hand. “Mr Algernon Lachlan, Watcher’s Council. A pleasure, Mr…?” “Colonel,” Marcus said. “Marcus Renee, head of the PHL. This is Major Stephan Bauer of the Bundeswehr.” “Ah, yes, I did hear briefly about you, Coloenl!” Lachlan said with a smile. “The chap with the fascinating runic modifications! Certainly will be worth a brief examination at some point.” He looked at Stephan. “And Major! Yes, a chance to examine your version of runic armour will be especially useful.” Great, Marcus thought, throwing Stephan a glance. “Is there anything we can do to assist you?” the Major asked, taking the hint. “Yes,” Lachlan said more seriously. “We will require a space to set up for our immediate experiments to begin. The sooner we are set up, the sooner we can begin taking advantage of this place, and more specifically the time it allows us. I trust you understand.” “Of course,” Marcus said. “We’ll begin arranging everything.” “Splendid!” Lachlan said cheerfully. “Now if you'll excuse me, I must go see about making some tea…” He tottered off, and Marcus sighed, before turning back to Yarrow. “Right then, Captain,” he said. “What can we do to help you set up?” *** Lyra approached one of the armoured figures with a tentative feeling in her stomach. She took a breath, trying to summon her courage. She had come here with the others to meet these new humans, after all. The figure was kneeling, as though praying, and while Lyra normally wouldn't disturb anyponyone doing something that personal, she had found herself unbelievably curious. The Thestrals of this new Blueblood’s Night Guard group were unapproachable, and the handful of humans had all but disappeared, leaving Lyra precious little chance to speak with them - to learn. As she approached, the armoured figure’s head straightened up. Lyra froze as the imposing helmet turned to look right at her. “Lyra Heartstrings?” the figure asked, its voice tinted by the mask. “Can I… help you, at all?” “I… Uh…” Lyra stammered. “Just wanted to come and… say hello…” The figure paused for a moment, before reaching up and removing the imposing helmet, revealing the face of… a human woman. No… more like a girl, no older than fifteen or sixteen, her green eyes hard and her blonde, curly hair cropped. She smiled, but it seemed tired. “Sir Eleanor,” she said quietly. “Holy Order of the Knights of Albion, at your service. Can I help you at all?” Lyra blinked. “You… you're a… a -” “Child,” Sir Eleanor said, holding up a hand, her smile fading slightly. “So I’m told, sometimes - usually by stuck-up military types. Their opinion doesn't really matter though - Eric trusts me. That's why I’m here.” “Eric?” Lyra asked, frowning. “Sorry, Sir Eric,” Sir Eleanor corrected herself. “My superior. Head and Founder of the Order.” Lyra nodded slowly, still not entirely understanding. “Uh, so…” she said, “you're a knight?” “Yup,” Sir Eleanor said with a smirk. “What, is my armour not shiny enough?” Come to mention it, the armour was a little ramshackle - there were dents and other marks that made it look like it had been through the wars, and the dullness of the metal didn't help. There were a few odd little bits of graffiti drawn on in white paint - symbols like a sword on one pauldron, or a few names written in sequence on one arm. Still, Lyra thought mentioning it would be a little rude. “It's just, Marcus told us a little about war on his Earth,” Lyra said. “‘Marcus’?” Sir Eleanor repeated. “Uh, Colonel Marcus Renee?” Lyra said, pointing to the sandy-haired human as he talked with Captain Yarrow. “He's the leader of the PHL. And he's a war hero, too, at least if what we’ve heard is true.” Sir Eleanor nodded slowly. “Well, what did Colonel Renee tell you?” “Uh… well, the way I understand it, close combat isn't really as big a factor of modern human warfare,” Lyra said slowly, worried she might upset the knight. Sir Eleanor nodded slowly. “It wasn't, or at least that's what I've heard. But we’re not fighting a modern human war. We’re fighting an army that thrives on medieval tactics backed by magical support.” “That’s kind of how people describe our version of the Solar Empire,” Lyra said. “We don’t have air support, or communications satellites, or energy weapons,” Sir Eleanor pointed out. “Or much in the way of standard ammo.” Lyra nodded. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.” “It’s funny,” the knight said. “Some of the old timers from… from before? I expected that they’d go mad over some of the technology, but it turns out they’re just happy with the little things.” “You don’t know what you have until it’s gone,” Lyra said, nodding. “By the way… what do you mean by ‘little things?’” “Internet service, running water, chocolate, coffee… bananas...” Eleanor said. “I heard that the Avatar was happy to see a new couch and television.” “That stuff seems pretty basic for the Colonel’s Earth,” Lyra said. “But on our Earth, it isn’t. Survival takes precedence. The winters are hard,” Eleanor said sadly. “The Earth that first contacted you has a population in the billions.” “And even then, it’s almost halved from what it used to be, I heard,” Lyra said. “Ours… is in the millions,” Eleanor said. Lyra drew in a gasp. “Mother of Celestia…” “Please don’t swear by her,” Eleanor said. “I know you’re swearing by yours, but... “ “I get it,” Lyra said, nodding. Though she didn’t. Not exactly. “I just. The weight of this, I can’t even comprehend this. All those people, dead…” “Not exactly all of them,” Eleanor said. “I get that too,” Lyra said. “But. I just can’t imagine that many people even existing, or that many of them just… gone.” “We took as many millions as we could,” Eleanor said. “Maybe even more.” “Ah,” Lyra said. “So what happened in between all these people coming into Britain, and you as you are n-” Eleanor gave Lyra a Look. The kind of Look conveying so much that it could only be capitalized. “We… don’t like to talk about that,” Eleanor said, blanching. “Someday, we’ll be comfortable. It’s all public record, but… We really don’t want to talk about it. Ask me about literally anything else. Please.” Usually, this was the kind of thing that would’ve gotten Lyra even more curious. ‘Lyra, don’t take Professor Shriek’s class! That stallion smells like mushrooms and he teaches silly fringe science, ooh, you sure don’t want to take that! There’s rumors he slept with Sabon and pissed her off so bad she decided to humiliate him in every one of her books!’ ‘Lyra, those oats are expensive imports, don’t eat them!’ ‘Lyra, don’t wear pants!’ ‘Lyra, don’t, oh sweet Celestia, it’s everywhere, why my Princess, why hast thou forsaken me, oh my goooooaauauuauuughghh…. bleh!’ All of these had provoked her to do the exact opposite. But Eleanor looked so absolutely haunted that Lyra couldn’t bring herself to ask. “So,” she heard herself ask. “You know me? Er, the other me?” Sir Eleanor looked visibly relieved at the question. “In passing. Operative Heartstrings is one of our better regarded officers, and a good friend with the Avatar of the reports are accurate.” Like Ambassador Heartstrings and Marcus, Lyra thought idly. “And what's he like?” Eleanor's expression turned wistful. “He's the Avatar of Albion. An inspiration for our entire order. I've never spoken to him myself, and I'm afraid I’m somewhat… biased.” Lyra nodded slowly. I guess I’ll get to meet him at some point. “What’s with the armor?” she asked after a moment. “It seems much more complex than…” “The armor’s heavy enough that we can carry any weapon,” Eleanor said. “And face anything the Solaminan regime throws at us. But to do that, the armor needed to be massively heavy. So a lot of the bulk of this armor is meant to house machines that let me move it.” She moved one arm, and Lyra listened closely. There was a slight whining sound, like a hydraulic. “You see?” Eleanor asked. “So… it's powered?” Lyra asked. “By what, batteries?” “Better,” Eleanor grinned. She pointed to some of the plates, where small glowing runes could be seen. “This equipment is run on runic energy. It's also being used to power a lot of generators. Rumour has it we’ll be entirely running on renewable runic-powered electricity in a year or three.” Lyra frowned. “But… don't you need crystal?” “Nope,” Eleanor said with a smile. “Plain old etching, magically imbued with rigorous chanting. This is old Norse I think.” Lyra blinked. “Wow. I - I didn't know humans had magic. The way Marcus tells it, Earth’s - his Earth’s magic was dormant.” Eleanor pointed to a man in a tweed suit. “Mr Steed over there, and Mr Lachlan, are members of the Watcher’s Council, a sort of secret magic society. They're the guys who helped make the armour, helped modify the people wearing it.” Lyra frowned. “The - the people wearing it?” “Oh yeah,” Eleanor said, a smile more like a grimace on her face. “The Paladin I, II and III suits are all a little too heavy and powerful for regular people, even when they're lightened. A regular person wearing this gear would be torn apart, crushed, rip their muscles, and generally crippled. So we’re… modified.” “Modified how?” Lyra asked quietly. “Oh, nothing too drastic,” Eleanor shrugged. “Hormone, psych and gene therapies taken from the old ATC Harbinger protocols and reworked by people like Mr Halford. That, combined with magical infusions, makes us - I guess, ‘super soldiers’ would be the closest term you'd be familiar with.” Lyra felt the blood drain from her face. “What - all of you?” “Everyone in the armour,” Eleanor said, motioning to her colleagues, several of whom were milling about. Lyra blinked. Marcus was technically a ‘super-soldier’, by his own description, but he was apparently unique in that regard. “How many of you are there?” she asked quietly. Eleanor looked back to her. “Somewhere in the two or three hundreds by now. More Clads are being commissioned every day, as soon as we get people volunteering and the gear together. Work’s moving incredibly fast.” She gave a rueful smile. “Back in the day, the Iron Clad program was meant to win the war. Now we’re sort of on the back seat compared to the Avatar - but we’re still bigger and tougher than most humans you’ll meet. And we will need that edge.” “To fight the Solar Empire?” Lyra guessed. “To fight the Solaminan Empire,” Eleanor clarified. “I don't know what you know about our enemy, but believe me, they won't make your lives easy.” Lyra gulped, her mind going back to DisQord’s presentation. God’s second child. She looked at the soldier in front of her, and thought back to an adage she’d heard. If this is the size of our defences… what are we expecting to fight? “I believe you,” she said quietly. *** Canterlot Palace Courtyard. They were congregating in the courtyard still, speaking amongst themselves. Every now and then one of them would stop to throw looks of mild curiosity or suspicion at the ponies watching them. Their armour was definitely Night Guard, but there were differences - concave shapes where one would expect convex, points where one would expect rounded ends. The armour was also worn - one could tell that dents had been smoothed out of each set, that scars had to be painted over. This was armour that had seen conflict. And then there was Prince Blueblood himself, standing tall and with his head tilted slightly upward: his armour the shiniest, his chestplate the most ornate, a decorated sword hung at his side. He looked for all the world like any of the most pompous officer that had ever existed - but his eyes… those told a different story. They were analytical, hard even. Royal Guard Second Lieutenant Iustita stood alongside her fellow Royal Guardsponies, all of whom held their usual stoic expressions as per their training to avoid showing any fear or expressing any other emotion while on duty. But beneath her own facade, she was perplexed and bothered, not only by the events of past few weeks, but - perhaps even more so - by the fact that yet another world had entered this war. Thankfully, she hadn’t been a part of the strike team that Captain Armor lead during the earlier misunderstanding with the human Marcus Renee. From what she had gathered from the reports, both written and oral, it had been quite a rough fight. But, ever since that moment where Princess Luna had denounced that misguided and foolish pegasus Icewind… it had been troubling to determine how justified allying themselves with many of the other races of Equus - including the Changelings (their invasion was not a good day), the dragons (it was hard not to keep an eye on them), the Griffons (their long standing history was self explanatory), and the Minotaurs (oddest of all) - was. The only conclusion to draw was that this ‘Queen’ Celestia represented a greater threat than they had ever faced before. And now? Now they were supposed to ally with another world, one that (according to scuttlebutt) had yet another version of Princess Celestia that had gone corrupted. It beggared belief. She missed Swiftwing; his attempts at lightening the mood would have been rather nice right now, even if it would have also been a break of protocol. Anything was better than this uncertainty. Her eyes narrowed slightly at this alternate Prince Blueblood: on one side, it would figure that he’d have the most ornate armor based upon her Equestria’s version. On the other side, however, his eyes spoke volumes of how different he had become; he held himself not as an arrogant member of the upper class. No, he held himself more akin to a commander or to a true royal. An improvement I suppose, Iustita mused silently. As she thought, his eyes turned toward her and he smiled. “Ah, hello!” he said, approaching her. He glanced over her armour. “You're a… Lieutenant, correct? Apologies if that's not so, I'm afraid your rank markings are somewhat different to the ones I remember.” Iustita straightened herself out, and kept her mouth shut. She held behind the stoic mask that she and all Royal Guard were trained to follow under… she still had yet to figure this version out. He coughed awkwardly. “Well, my understanding was that our group were to be escorted to meet with the other leaders.” His smile became slightly wry. “May I assume you're the escort Aun - that is, Princess Celestia - sent to take us there?” Might as well indulge his desire for conversation. “That would be correct your highness,” she said. “Second Lieutenant Iustita at your service.” “Ah, excellent,” Blueblood said with a smile. “Would you like me to get my troops together? I suspect you've got places you'd rather be than escorting me around.” Iustita stood silently for a moment, contemplating briefly and weighing her options somewhat. Finally she nodded. “I think it would be best to gather your guard so that we may get to her majesty,” she said in a simple, orderly tone. “Oh, and for the record your highness, I do have a partner already. Please keep that in mind.” Blueblood blinked, apparently nonplussed. “I… will…?” He shook his head. “Captain Doo. Assemble by ranks.” A lilac mare in Night Guard armour nodded, before turning to her troops. “By ranks! Assemble!” The Night Guard moved at once, ordered and disciplined as any force of their calibre should have been. After a moment, they were stood in formation, waiting. “Company at the ready, sir!” Captain Doo said. Iustita stood briefly before turning and gesturing for her fellow guard to move as she began to lead Blueblood and his Night Guard into the castle. As they walked, Captain Doo yelled out a marching cry. “Noctis aeternae!” “Sanguinem aeternam!” the Night Guards responded. A few of her fellow guard looked back, a bit surprised at the marching cry. Iustita herself raised an eyebrow, while trying to make out what it might have meant. Some archaic language? “Traditional cry of the Night Guard,” Blueblood said quietly, apparently noting her expression. “Or rather, a modified one.” “I can't say I recognise it,” Iustita said honestly. “No, I suppose you wouldn't,” he said idly. “Old High Unicornic still gets used for some of these old mottos, but our Old High Unicornic might well be gibberish on this world.” “I haven't heard of a language called that, I admit,” Iustita agreed. “Well, there you go,” Blueblood said amiably. There was a pause. “I'd honestly prefer they didn't make such a fuss, but hey ho. Martial culture.” He paused. “My father understood it better than I do.” “I… suppose you're correct about martial culture,” Iustita said lightly. “Our worlds are different after all. The Equestria of ‘Queen’ Celestia has some differences from my own - wars fought where we had none, and so on. It is to be expected yours would vary more.” She paused. “In fact, that would be one of the differences - your father being more understanding of martial culture than ours or… the other world.” “Oh? Was he not?” Blueblood said, glancing at her with a mildly interested air. “No, sir,” was all he got in response. He nodded, frowning slightly. “What was dear old Steelblood like ‘round here, then?” he asked after a moment of silence punctuated only by the sound of marching hooves. “Hard to imagine the stallion being anything other than a hard-arse General.” Iustita raised an eyebrow slightly, a confused frown on her face. “Ummm… I’m afraid there isn’t anypony of that name in our Equestria your highness,” she said truthfully. “I do believe you may need to be more specific.” “… oh?” Blueblood said, eyes wide. “General Steelblood was my father. He would have died - ten years ago? Maybe more? Oh, but that was in my world - I think it would have been more like three, here…” A few of Iustita’s guards broke their stoic masks and gave confused glances. “I’m afraid to say that your father wasn’t… that is to say your counterpart’s father wasn’t this ‘Steelblood’ you’re speaking of,” Iustita said with certainty. “If memory serves, he was a stallion named Azure Haven - if I’m not mistaken. I don't really keep up with the aristocracy.” Blueblood laughed. “‘Azure Haven’? Really? Well, now I've heard everything.” He sobered slightly. “So what was he like, or… don't I want to know?” ‘Unjust/deluded/supremacist/an unpleasant pony.’ “I believe you wouldn’t want to know, your highness,” Iustita answered after a long pause. “I will… take that under advisement,” Blueblood said evenly. “Well, if Steelblood wasn't around, who was it led the fourth Colonial Reclamation? Can't imagine Colonel Pristine Shield managing half as well…” He then noticed the confused looks Iustita and some of the other guards were giving him. “… you've never heard of the fourth Colonial Reclamation,” he guessed. “What about the Stratosphere war? The assault on the Rok? No?” “…No…” Iustita repeated slowly, blinking. Blueblood frowned. “Alright, what about the - oh, I don't know - the Third New Eagland invasion, right before the new Griffon Emperor sorted that lot out?” Iustita gave a soft, restrained sigh. “…your highness, I believe it would be better to assume that there are plenty of historical differences between our Equestrias.” “Alright then,” Blueblood said, still frowning. “But… that being the case, when was your last conflict? If it wasn't colonial, what was it? I find it difficult to believe you've not had something -” He paused, his eyes widening at the blank looks from Iustita and the other guards. “Oh my,” he said. “You… you haven't. Have you?” “There was that Changeling Invasion back when Princess Cadenza was getting married,” one of the other guards stated idly. “And before that?” Blueblood asked, a hint of bewilderment in his tone. He was met by silence; not a single response to his question outside of blank looks. “Well,” he said softly, his eyes glazing over slightly as he seemed to think back to something. “Still. I suppose that means you've got something worth fighting for. That… that's good, I imagine.” Iustita’s eyebrows furrowed as she frowned. “And that means what, your highness?” “Hm?” Blueblood said, glancing at her. “Sorry. Just thinking about home. It will be… odd, going back.” “Seeing how your version of her majesty has fallen just as far if not farther than the so called ‘Queen’ of the first world’s Equestria, I’d imagine it would be after seeing a world where she had not,” Iustita stated. “Perhaps it's a reminder,” Blueblood said quietly. “What we were once. What we might be again.” He took a deep breath. “Have to get there first.” ‘Never will/unable to change what had been done/tainted fore-’ “I do hope that you do,” Iustita said, cutting off that train of thought. “But I must ask something, if I may your highness.” “By all means,” Blueblood said quietly. Taking in the true expressions around her from behind her fellow guard’s stoic masks, Iustita took a breath as she prepared to speak the fear that they all shared ever since learning of the guard that served ‘Queen’ Celestia. “How is your version of Celestia controlling us?” she whispered lightly. “How is she suppressing our free will in your world?” Blueblood frowned. “I… am not sure that knowing would be a comfort for you.” “Please, sir,” Iustita asked quietly. Blueblood sighed heavily, the weight of the information overriding his manners. “It’s some sort of spell,” he finally said after a momentary pause to collect his thoughts. “‘The Renewal of the Oaths’, they called it. Best our psychology experts and spell engineers can figure, it subtly shifts one’s perception. What one thought was ‘right’, one suddenly feels is ‘wrong’, and vice versa, and questioning is… discouraged. It's subtle work. Difficult to unwork. I think something similar is used on the Converted.” A mare standing, flanked by obvious converted and sneering at the sight of guards attacking and beating supposed dissidents. Iustita stopped, closing her eyes as she shuddered lightly to come to grips with what she had heard. What felt like hours, staring at a picture - that mare looked like her… her and Balanced Scale; she could have passed for a third sister if possible. But that wasn’t true; that mare was her, is her. ‘No choice/only obedience/justice denied/victims suffering/again.’ She needed Swiftwing right now, she needed Swiftwing or Balanced Scale to talk to - this was too much. “Are you alright, Lieutenant?” Blueblood asked quietly. “No…” Iustita whispered, feeling as if a chain snapped from weight. “No, I am not. Not now, not in the first world, and not even in your world.” She tried to meet Blueblood’s worried glance while tears welled in her eyes despite her training against being compromised like such. “Well… I don't suppose this will be all that much comfort,” Blueblood said, speaking as sensitively as he could (which is to say, it was a good try), “but we don't know if every Guard is affected. We don't even know if you exist, of course, or what you might be like, given what you said about my father… but if you do exist, nothing says you're necessarily still under the Empire’s command.” “Does it matter?” Iustita replied, a bit more harshly than she intended. “I’m a slave that slowly is being driven insane in one world, but now in another I may not even exist, while the innocent are still suffering unjustly.” “One thing you might want to remember then,” Blueblood said quietly. “And I think it's a lesson I might have to learn too. All of us, maybe.” Iustita frowned slightly. “And that would be what exactly, your highness?” “That despite the similarities you share with… shall we say, ‘other’ yous - would that be the right word, ‘yous’?” he mused, before shaking his head and returning to the point. “Whatever you think you share with them, they are not you.” “… they were once,” Iustita pointed out. “No, they were more like you once,” Blueblood retorted. “But you and they are still separate people, as much as I am from whatever poor sod your Blueblood is. We’re different ponies. You don't know what she might have done or not done differently. Same as me, and my counterpart.” He tilted his head. “Yes, I actually find that rather comforting.” Iustita said nothing, just standing there before moving ahead to lead Blueblood and his Night Guard to meet the Princess. *** Assigned R&D ‘playspace’, Canterlot, Year 2 Anno Harmonia - ‘Downtime’ Equestria. Loud music was blaring through the little lab, a man in a scruffy labcoat, t-shirt and jeans air-guitaring to himself with a moderately cheerful expression. He looked like he had once been considerably bulkier than he now was - everything he wore hung off his frame loosely, and his skin seemed to imperceptibly sag. He wasn’t old, per se, just… beaten. But then, that seemed to apply to a lot of people. “Halford,” said one Watcher (Terry Halford didn't know his name - Stanley something?). “The PHL are sending some blueprints they want you to go over.” “Mkay,” the scruffy man said with a snort. “I already got a bunch on the old email. Ha! I have email! God, I missed email! I wonder if they have that video of the wolf with the hic-pups.” “Don’t you mean hiccups?” the Watcher asked. “NOPE! Is We Rate Dogs still going in this other world, too?” The Watcher just stared at him. “You were expecting me to miss high-end components more than anything, weren’t you,” Halford said, a momentary pause in his energy. “No, I was expecting you to miss pizza,” the Watcher said without missing a beat. “Hell, that too,” Halford chuckled. Even as he spoke, his email notification sound pinged on his iPad, and with a chuckle he opened it. “Well hot damn,” he said after a moment. “They just sent me the specs for the PEV-1.” “The what now? Do you mean some of the early Powered Armor? Like, the REV-” the Watcher began. “No, no, not the REV, it's the PEV,” Halford said with a snort. “REV models are like… mini mechs, more than power armour. Walking tanks, not really infantry. PEV is what me and a few of the guys used to work out the Paladin line.” He chuckled. “Looks like these guys actually have more than a few prototypes, though. They're working on a PEV-2: we never got round to that, but Armacham’s had some extra backing in this timeline.” “Is that good?” the Watcher asked. “Well, it means I’ll be able to start working out how to make Paladin IV wearable for the poor average Joes of the world,” Halford said. “PEV’s designed for every dude and his ugly ex-wife to wear, something we never managed to get down for Paladin due. It was always too resource-intensive to get all the best safety shit installed. Hell, that says something about us, doesn't it, that makin’ a bunch of magically and biologically enhanced super-soldiers is somehow less resource intensive than safety tech for their shit.” “So with this other world, and them practically tripping over resources compared to us,” the Watcher said, nodding, “Suddenly a lot of things just got greenlit.” “They got whatever kind of lit you want,” Halford said with a smirk. He frowned. “Hey, d’you think -” “Terry, no,” the Watcher sighed. “Terry, yes!” Halford crowed. *** Marcus Renee’s office. Marcus missed Babs. Admittedly, he missed Cheerilee more, but he missed the comforting knowledge that whatever he or Cheerilee couldn’t do, whatever they needed, Babs Seed would pick up the slack. So, normally he would have been finding out about this secondhand. If he heard it secondhand, then he had time to think, and react like the calm, seasoned man he hoped to be at least most of the time. “He… did… what?” he ground out, a nervous-looking Twilight in front of him. I’m going to do something I deeply regret, he thought, clenching his fists. “T-t-transported me and the others to another dimension,” Twilight repeated. “Uh - he said time moved differently - I mean, it did move differently - and - and -” “And he killed you,” Marcus finished, practically grinding the words out. “Well, s-summoned things that killed us,” Twilight said in a small voice. “I m-mean, I didn't come here to complain, I came here to say it m-might be useful for us to u-use that b-but -” Marcus held up a hand. “Breathe, Twilight. I'm not mad at you. I am, however, gonna have words with DisQord.” He cracked his knuckles. “Strong words.” *** Canterlot Throne Room. Prince Blueblood entered the throne room carefully, being sure to maintain a composed expression. Sure enough, both Princess Celestia and Princess Luna were stood on the other end, near the throne room. Taking a breath, Prince Blueblood approached the throne, before bowing low. “I am honoured to be in the presence of the diarchs of Equestria,” he said quietly, before waiting for their response. “And we are honored to be in the presence of a prince who has accomplished so much,” Celestia said. “Please, rise.” Blueblood raised his head slowly. “My thanks, your highnesses, though I dare say I haven't accomplished nearly enough, yet.” “By that token, neither have we,” Luna said quietly. “But we are all moving forward on this path together.” “Indeed,” Celestia said softly. “Now, Prince Blueblood - or should we use your first name?” “I, uh, don't have one,” Blueblood replied with a slow smile. “But by all means, I’m happy for you to forgo titles, your highnesses.” “If we are forgoing titles,” Luna said with a smile of her own, “then you should use our names.” Blueblood’s eyes widened. “I… don't know that I can do that.” “Well, we can try for nothing,” Celestia said with a smile. “Forgive me for asking this, though, but should I be concerned that you petrified another version of me?” Blueblood asked. “I just want to be absolutely sure that I-” It was impossible to miss the looks of panic and regret in Luna and Celestia’s eyes. Yep, I’m in the right place, Blueblood thought. “No, no, I promise! No!” Celestia said, frantically shaking her head. “I was just…” she sighed, looking downcast. “There is no excuse.” “Sister,” Luna said. “We were under a lot of stress at that moment. Learning about an evil version of me, having Discord tell us that all the training and morality that we learned from Sint Erklass were for naught and we should’ve been unfeeling machines - as if that is not what doomed so many in the other world - some of our little ponies being nearly gravely injured, and you were directly exposed to the mind of a human with shellshock. Everyone makes mistakes, sister. And you are perfectly fine - your regret at this very moment is proof of it.” “I suppose I should,” Celestia said. “Ah. Un-petrify him.” “Perhaps we could teach him the ways of being a better Blueblood from you?” Luna suggested. “What, and create a fop with an inferiority complex?” Blueblood asked. “That does sound terrible,” Celestia said, nodding. “Once, in the early days of Equestria, it was law for noble families to commit one son or daughter to the cause in times of war. While we’re not at war, other families do contribute their scions in the event of monster attacks. There’s nothing stopping us from enacting legal loopholes in that...” “I’m genuinely surprised that it was on the books at all, given what I’ve heard about your country’s history,” Blueblood said. “And, what’s that about monster attacks?” “The royal guard is mostly there for peacekeeping, and defending against inevitable monster attacks,” Celestia said, nodding. “How I wish that was all we had to deal with,” Blueblood said. Luna nodded, taking a sip of her tea. “So,” she said. “Tell us about... “ she looked deep in thought for a second. “About how you found yourself in your position.” “Not about the differences between our worlds?” Blueblood asked. “I have the feeling that would take too long,” Luna said. Blueblood chuckled. “You might be right. Alright. Where to begin…?” *** When Marcus found DisQord, he was staring up at the sky, as though counting something that only he could see. The marine scowled at him, walking right up to him, feeling his fist curl slightly, Twilight’s words still ringing in his ears. “Hello Colonel,” the Draconequus said simply. “Can I help you at all?” “I guess you can,” Marcus said, trying to keep his voice from sounding irritated. He needed to be calm for this. “I just heard about your 'training' with the Elements.” DisQord didn't look at him. “I see.” Marcus' fist tightened. “What the hell were you thinking? You can't just throw them in the deep end like that! Hell, you killed them!” DisQord still didn't look at him, but he raised a claw. Marcus blanched, bringing a hand up to try a warding spell - *** - and in a flash of light, the two of them were sat in deckchairs by a pool. Or rather, Marcus was - DisQord was gone, and in his place was a man with brown hair and a widow's peak sipping a piña colada, a white t-shirt with the letter 'Q' in bright red printed on it. “DisQord?” Marcus asked. “Just call me 'Q' here," the man said with a smile as he took another sip. “You don't mind the change of scenery, do you?” “Where are we?” Marcus asked, narrowing his eyes at the place. It seemed reasonably normal - except for the fact that one of the women nearby had leopard spots down the sides of her face, and another had odd nose ridges… “Risa,” Q said with a contented sigh. “I figured if you're going to give me the boring moral speech you've got stacked up, I might as well hear it somewhere relaxing.” Marcus sighed. “Uh huh.” Q glanced over at him. “Come on, Colonel. We might be in a completely different century and universe, so far away from the threats you’ve spent years fighting that it isn't even funny, but I'm sure you want to get back at some point. Get on with the lecture.” The marine frowned. “You know, you can't keep doing this.” “Doing what?” Q asked innocently. “Whatever the hell you want to do,” Marcus clarified, trying to keep the edge from his tone. “Sending the Elements into an impossible fight in some fucking pocket dimension without asking anyone, just to 'show them they can die'. Insisting we bring them to the Crystal Empire. Darting here, there and everywhere without answering to anybody. Making a point of needling Celestia very time you get the chance! Kidnapping me!” Q stretched slightly in his chair. “Everything I do, I do to help your cause - the defeat of Celestia, the defeat of Solamina, peace, freedom, ‘Murica, free t-shirts… that stuff. Except maybe needling Celly, but that’s just funny.” “Not to her it isn’t!” Marcus snapped. “No, I suppose not,” Q said with a sigh. “A shame - the Celly I knew was much more reserved.” Marcus ignored that comment. “And I might even believe that you’re trying to help, but you can't just act unilaterally!” “That’s a big word for you, Colonel Bogey,” Q said with a snort. “Careful, you might brain bad.” “Don’t talk to me like I’m some grunt, and don’t avoid the point!” Marcus snapped, feeling himself growing more frustrated. “You're not in charge, and you're not a free agent: you're part of an alliance, and that means answering to someone!” Q looked askance at him. “Who? You?” Marcus forced himself not to yell. "I'm not saying that. I'm in charge of the PHL - not of everyone. Even then, I’d rather not be - I don't like being the guy who has to order people to die.” He sighed, trying to calm himself. “Why are you even helping us?” “Because your enemies are my enemies, and your friends are - or in some cases, should have been - my friends,” Q said at once. “You don't seem to mind ‘testing’ your friends to the point of breaking,” Marcus pointed out snarkily. “Gotta be honest, I'm surprised it's not got you smacked down before.” “Who says it hasn’t?” Q retorted. He shrugged. “I’m not so bad once you get to know me. Consider that test ‘tough love’. There’s no gentle way of me preparing them for war on this scale in a hurry.” “Maybe not,” Marcus agreed, “but you can't do stuff like that - or at least you need to consult people before pulling off your crazy shit!” Q kept looking at him for a long time, before sipping his drink again. “I see.” Marcus frowned. “You see?” “I understand, I comprehend, I get the picture, the writing's on the wall, your meaning is clear," Q said, slightly snappish. "'I see'.” Marcus frowned. “I don't think you do.” “No, I do, actually,” Q said. He finished his drink, and put the empty glass down, his expression oddly morose. “Tell me something, Colonel, and be honest with me on this one. Do you feel fear?” “Of course,” Marcus said at once. “Everyone does.” “Not me,” Q said, and suddenly he looked old. His body didn’t change, but his eyes bore the weight of millennia. “At least, I thought I was above that sort of thing. I was never given much of a reason. I’m older than most of the stars you can see from your paltry rock. I’ve only met my match a handful of times. I’ve never met something that could straight up obliterate me in one shot - until the day Celestia was taken by that… thing.” Marcus frowned. “You were afraid?” “Actually, I was terrified,” Q replied with a slight, mirthless smile. “We don’t interact with that thing. Ever. When she was taken… there’s no way I can adequately explain how bad that is to a human.” “It’s like the devil moved in next door,” Marcus said quietly. “Simplistic, but I understand,” Q said, shrugging. “My point is, I was scared. I was trying to sit the thing out - then I sent Elliot somewhere, he ended up somewhere else, and I somehow wound up involved in this world, and not only have to worry about It, but about your Queen Celestia, who’s no slouch herself.” His gaze hardened. “So yeah - I’ve done things that one might call ‘too far’. If you happened to know you were going to fight the devil, I’m fairly certain you’d push yourself and your people damn far too.” Marcus sighed, thinking it over. “Maybe,” he finally agreed. “But that doesn’t mean you act like an island, or a god, or like you’re the one making all the choices. You aren’t. Neither am I. We’re a team.” He held out a hand. Q glanced at it, then up at Marcus, whose face held no trace of hostility. Reaching over, he clasped Marcus’ hand. “Alright then,” he said simply. “A team it is. Though I reserve the right to make chocolate rain.” “And I reserve the right to stand by and watch when Celestia kicks your ass,” Marcus retorted. “Speaking of - no more whisking people off for impossible fights in parallel universes. At least, not without telling me first.” “I thought you said you weren’t the one in charge,” Q pointed out with a snort. “I’m in charge of the PHL,” Marcus said. “And it’s either me, the Prince Blueblood who came with those troops from Elliot’s world, or Princess Celestia. Pick one.” Q blanched. “Alright, you it is.” “Thought you’d see it my way,” Marcus smirked. Q sighed. “Well played, Colonel Bogey. Well played.” There was a flash of light. *** The two of them were back on the balcony, Q back to his DisQord form. “So I’ve got a question,” Marcus asked, checking he was all still here. “Oh?” DisQord asked. “If you can do this… zapping people thing that you do, why don't you just zap your Celestia - Solamina - somewhere and have done with her?" Marcus asked, frowning. “Rules,” DisQord replied simply. “Bullshit,” Marcus said. “You're telling me that you've got rules against helping people?” "Yup," DisQord replied with a wry grin. "'No meddling with the Darkness, it doesn't like meddlers'. Rule… Dorxan." "Door what now?" Marcus repeated. "Q don't count in traditional numbers," DisQord said, though his expression made it unclear as to whether he was joking. Marcus decided it didn’t matter. “Anyway - she isn't affected by us. Simple fact - it's a no-go-zone for our abilities,” DisQord continued. “You might as well ask why your Discord can't zap Queen Celestia - the answer being, he doesn't have the ability. She is beyond him. And, moreover, he doesn’t have her..." he searched for the word. “Her weakness, her…” “Her green kryptonite?” Marcus suggested. “Exactly!” DisQord said. “Your Discord doesn’t have that. And even if we had her ‘green kryptonite’ - which I suspect that we might, or something that will serve - then the trick would be getting her in range.” “So, you can't do that to Queen Celestia?” Marcus asked. “If I had half a mind… probably not, no,” DisQord said after a moment's pondering. “She might not be 'the' Darkness, capitalised, definite article, italicised, but she's not the little monster kid from Undertale either. She - or Tirek, same difference - is rockin' power, lots of it, and probably more all the time if she's draining her Equus.” Marcus sighed. “Had to try.” “Of course you did,” DisQord said with a smirk. “If there’s nothing else…” “Actually, there is,” Marcus said. “Your training space - that hypertonic lion tamer or whatever it was called.” DisQord’s eye twitched. “Yes?” “I want a bout,” Marcus said. DisQord narrowed his eyes. “I thought you said no more whisking people off.” “‘Without consulting me’,” Marcus repeated. “This is me. I’m consulted. I want to spar, push my limits, see what I can do.” DisQord smiled. “Do you really?” Marcus frowned at that. “Why don’t I like that look?” “I guess you’ll find out,” DisQord promised. “Say… tomorrow at - how’d you say it, ‘zero eight thirty’?” Marcus nodded once. “Alright. That, I can do.” ***