The Doctor’s eyes fluttered open. For a long time, he stared at the ceiling, trying to remember where he was. TARDIS, he remembered.
The word sent faded flashes of memory through his head, disconnected moments and actions that fit together piecemeal. He looked around slowly -- the crick in his neck made even turning his head an arduous task. He lay in one of the disused console rooms -- the obscenely gothic one that his seventh and eighth incarnations had used. With some difficulty, he rose to his hooves for long enough to stumble toward and onto the central console.
He yanked the monitor around to run an internal diagnostic. What had happened here? Where was the TARDIS interface? None of these questions were answered on the monitor.
The display read only
Quiescia
Mutter’s Spiral
281,964 CE
Breathable atmosphere
No native inhabitants
“Quiescia?” the Doctor murmured. That name sounded oddly familiar, but he wasn’t overly concerned about that. Most planet names were. He was more concerned with the fact that he’d managed to pilot off Equestria, out of its universe, and into his native galaxy collection, and he couldn’t recall why or how. He wasn’t overly concerned about getting back -- the Fast Return Switch would sort that out easily enough. But why had he come here? Or, putting it more worryingly, why had he been brought here?
Only one way to find out. The Doctor straightened up, tried unsuccessfully to shake the sleep out of his limbs, and trotted out the door.
There was very little to see on Quiescia. It was rocky, hilly, and blue. It was a nice blue, the Doctor thought. Bluer than Ditzy’s coat, but greyer than the TARDIS. The blue also seemed very familiar to the Doctor. Quiescia seemed like an important place, but he couldn’t imagine why. There was nothing here.
He started to walk, not really conscious of direction or distance. The rocky ground made it difficult to move quickly over the terrain without tripping, doubly so when his hooves felt like they'd been stuffed with cotton, but the Doctor was too deep in his fugue state to care.
He started up a hill. The hill also seemed familiar, and the Doctor stopped for a second, conscious of a cold pit in his stomach. He closed his eyes and began to think. Quiescia. Quiescia.
He remembered digging here, lifetimes ago, while Sammy Jane watched. He’d given her his velvet coat. Or had he draped it over a rock? Surely he hadn't kept it on?
It occurred to the Doctor that he’d never had a companion named Sammy Jane. He started to think a little harder, and the events began to slowly separate in his head.
He’d been in his third/eighth body, traveling with Sarah-Jane Smith/Samantha Jones. He’d arrived on Quiescia with a body to bury, and he’d walked up this very hill with Sarah/by himself. He’d dug a grave six feet deep/until he scraped the top of the first coffin. And into the grave he’d put Laika/the D***
Laika/hims***
Laika/his own c***
The Doctor’s eyes snapped open. He began to run for the top of the hill.
He’d covered the coffin/He’d left them exposed. He’d erected a grave marker/He’d dropped in a thermosystem bomb. He’d carved a good dog’s name into the rock/He’d collapsed the gravesite into a neutron star.
He reached the top of the hill. The grave was uncovered, the marker knocked over. He looked down. There were two coffins. Neither of them should be here. He'd destroyed the grave site. Yet, here they lay. The dog-sized coffin was closed. The other hung open.
The Doctor stared into the pit, uncomprehending. His body had been stolen.
On instinct, he spun around to face the way he had come. He was just in time to watch the TARDIS doors slam shut.
The Doctor cried out and raced down the hill, but it was already too late. The TARDIS was fading away even as he watched. By the time he’d reached the base of the hill again, she was gone.
Button sat back and burped. “Sorry,” he said, patting his mouth with a napkin.
Sweetie grinned, threw back her head, and belched a perfect middle C for five seconds. The others stared at her in disbelief. She leaned back in the booth, smiling. “Benefits of learning to control your diaphragm,” she said, apparently feeling no further explanation was required.
Apple Bloom narrowed her eyes. “Well, that’s all well and good, but Ah--”
“If you’re going to start a burping contest, please do it outside the bar,” Romana said, sliding the bill onto the table.
“Yeah, that’s fair.” Bloom slapped a few bits on the table, and the others followed suit. Button made sure to leave a sizable tip.
As they made their way out into the sunshine, Sweetie glanced at the others. “So, um… I don’t like to eat and run, but I should probably see Rarity sometime today.”
Button sucked in a breath. “Yeah… and I should definitely go stop by Mom’s.”
“Same,” Scootaloo agreed. “But we should meet up again later today!”
“Yeah,” Rumble agreed. “What do you want to do?”
Everyone hesitated, unsure of what to say. “...Bowling?” Sweetie tried.
Apple Bloom turned to Dinky. “Ain’t yer dad puttin’ on that big show this evenin’ in yer backyard?”
“Oh, yeah! You should all come around and see that. He's been working on something in the TARDIS for months now. Apparently, the ‘great unveiling’ is at seven. So if you wanted to swing by around six, I think that’s when the party’s happening.”
“Sounds cool!” Button said.
“Yeah, I think we’ll all be there,” Scootaloo agreed.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Sweetie promised. She smiled broadly. “I really just can’t believe-- ooh!” She reached out and pulled Button into a tight squeeze before bouncing off toward Carousel Boutique.
Button blinked several times. “Oh. Uh, cool. I’m uh, gonna…” he staggered off, grinning like a loon.
The others watched them go impassively. “So, do you think they’re ever going to actually admit they like each other?” Rumble asked.
“Nah,” said Bloom. “They’re just gonna circle each other forever with their weird mushy-gushy romantic tension.”
“If it wasn’t so cute, it’d be really annoying,” Scootaloo said.
Dinky scrunched her muzzle. “Still pretty annoying,” she said.
“Yeah, but only in large doses. I’d better head off too. See ya tonight!”
Dinky glanced at the two others. “You guys aren’t heading home?”
“Ah’ve been in Ponyville the whole time y’all were away. Ah spend more’n enough time with mah kin.”
“And I’ve been back for three days. This is basically the first day I’ve come down to Ponyville after I finished unpacking.”
Bloom looked at him askance. “It took ya three days to unpack?”
“Cloudchaser decided it would be a funny prank to hide all of my suitcases and boxes in the clouds.”
“Still…” Dinky said.
“Well, then I had to get back at her,” Rumble clarified. “And then there was a prank war, and it was a whole thing, and as soon as I get back home I’m probably gonna find out that she removed my room and set it to drift out over Canterlot. So really, I’d like to ignore that reality for as long as possible.”
Dinky nodded. “I get that. So, it’s just the three of us then?”
“Looks that way,” Bloom agreed. “So, whatcha wanna do?”
The silence was deafening.
Twilight ached. For a moment after she awoke, she didn’t know why. Then, everything came flooding back, and she sat bolt upright. At least, she tried. In reality, she pushed herself up for a second, then fell back onto the pillows.
“Awake at last,” Sombra rumbled.
Twilight cracked one eye open. “Not in the lab,” she said.
Sombra gave her a tired half-smile. “No,” he agreed. “Not in the lab.”
“Where’re the others?” Twilight asked.
“Sunset went to obtain medical aid. Trixie is composing a letter to Celestia.”
“Haven’t been out long, then.”
“Slightly less than half an hour, yes. I presume you aren’t feeling your best.”
Twilight just gazed at him flatly, and he snorted a laugh. “Yes. ‘No shit,’ as you moderns say.” He hesitated. “Is there anything in particular you need?”
Twilight thought about that. “A hot water bottle would be nice… maybe something to drink. And to eat. Something quick, simple, lots of carbs.”
“Tomato soup and a grilled cheese?”
“...Yes, actually, that sounds perfect.”
“I’ll pass it along to Trixie.”
“You really should learn to cook, one of these days.”
Sombra’s smile slipped. “Yes,” he agreed. “I really ought to.”
There was a long silence. Twilight was accustomed to these. Sombra was never comfortable with his past royal status being mentioned, for obvious reasons. That included the list of things that he’d never been taught to do, on the grounds that his servants were expected to do them on his behalf. If Twilight’s mind wasn’t so fuzzy, she would have remembered that. She kicked herself for forgetting.
“So…” said Sombra. “What exactly happened?”
“You were there. Imagine that happening again, but without me expecting it.”
Sombra winced.
“Exactly.”
“But you mentioned a time loop,” Sombra pressed. “What was that like?”
Twilight shrugged. “Big golden light, quickly followed by me blacking out again. Or possibly being thrown back in time to when I blacked out the first time. Everything is still pretty fuzzy.”
Sombra nodded.
“I’m pretty sure whatever it was, it was using my magic to power itself,” Twilight continued. “They were definitely connected, somehow.”
“But what was it?”
Twilight exhaled and sunk back into the pillows. “I haven’t a clue,” she admitted. “All I know is, it’s powerful, it nearly killed me, and it’s still out there.”
Sombra shifted nervously on his chair. “We must warn Ponyville.”
Twilight stared out the window and nodded. “Much good may it do them,” she murmured. “At this point, I don’t think we can hope for much more than its appetite being sated for awhile.”
The Doctor was meditating. He sat at the edge of his grave, eyes closed and hooves in his lap. To any outside observer, it would have looked as though he’d fallen asleep. Nothing could be further from the truth. Which was just as well, really, considering that there wasn’t an outside observer around for half a parsec in any direction.
No, the Doctor was exercising his telepathic muscles, reaching out psychic tendrils across space and time. Relatively speaking, his corpse had only left the planet about fifteen minutes ago. The biodata it would have left behind ought to have been fresh enough for the Doctor to open communications with it, regardless of the spacetime that now separated them.
There was nothing.
The Doctor opened his eyes. “Y’know,” he said aloud, “people always say talking to yourself is a bad sign. I’d say it’s a much worse sign when you’re giving yourself the silent treatment.”
There was no reply, naturally. The Doctor sighed. Obviously, he’d chosen Quiescia for a burial site because of its near-total isolation. The whole point of this location was its lack of anything remotely interesting to anyone. It had no strategic value, no interesting minerals, no cultures, no life, no change of any sort. Nothing in the universe would have any reason to come here on purpose, and it was so far from anything interesting that coming here by accident would be practically impossible.
Theoretically, the air would run out eventually -- there was nothing to replace the carbon dioxide the Doctor was exhaling with fresh oxygen. Of course, before that happened, he would starve, and before that happened he’d die of dehydration, but at the rate things were going, before that, he’d curl up and die from sheer boredom. He’d die of exposure well before that, though.
He chuckled bitterly at that. His corpse had been stolen, but never fear. He’d replace it soon enough.
He glanced around for a shovel. It’d be quite hard to bury himself alive, doubly so with hooves, but he could make a crack at it…
Hooves.
He had hooves.
The Doctor stared at his forelimbs for a long moment, then spun around. Tail, flank, hourglass mark. He felt at his face, finding a square muzzle, floppy ears, and those delightfully big round eyes. “Oh!” He laughed aloud. “I’m an idiot!”
He sat down at the edge of the grave and began to meditate once more, this time sending his psychic tendrils in an entirely different direction. A far-ranging message, broadcast through all space and time to find the ears of his savior…
Oi! Lulu! I’m in a spot of bother!
Dinky’s stomach soured and sank. Of course. The bitter pill had to be swallowed. There was nothing left for them to do together. They had done it all already. Now they were older, with their lives ahead of them and their destinies written on their flanks. What did they have binding them together? What was left of their friendship after all these years?
She looked from Apple Bloom to Rumble. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved. Neither of them appeared to be breathing, actually.
Dinky blinked, much as her friends currently weren’t doing, and looked up and down the street. Everything was perfectly, unnaturally still. She stepped forward and waved a hoof in front of Rumble’s face. No reaction. “Guys? This isn’t funny.”
She looked around the street again. Everything seemed to be lit strangely, tinted with gold. Unbidden, thoughts about flies in amber rose to mind, and she shuddered, stepping away from her friends and hurrying down the street. For once in her life, she actually really wished the Doctor was here. There had to be some explanation for all this, after all, and he had experience enough to know what that explanation might be.
Of course, he might also be responsible for this, in which case she still wished he was here. Easier to yell at him, that way. Much more convenient. She realized she was babbling to herself.
The silence was getting to her. Nothing was supposed to be this quiet. She started to whistle, but had to stop. Hearing how shaky her voice had become was even worse than the absolute silence.
And then, out ahead of her, she heard something. A scream. Dinky broke into a gallop. Ahead of her, she could just see a figure in the weird golden light -- a stallion, with a stocky, chubby build and a manestyle that Dinky could only describe as ‘unfortunate’.
“Caramel!” she called.
The candymaker looked up in surprise. Dinky blinked. Since when had Caramel had a horn?
Then he winced and doubled over. When he rose again, he was still Caramel, with the same coat, mane, and mark, but he was… different. He stood easily as big as Macintosh, with the muscles to match. More importantly, he was clearly terrified.
“Dinky!” he bellowed. “What’s happenin’? Why do Ah sound countrified?”
He winced again, and suddenly there was a quite pretty golden mare in the road. The mane was still awful, though. Some things were universal. “It keeps happening!” she cried.
Dinky stopped dead in her tracks, unsure of what to do. Another flinch and there was a yellow changeling standing there with what Dinky could only think of as truly regrettable antennae. “Do something!” they buzzed. “I can’t remember which one I even started as!”
Dinky didn’t even think. She thrust out a hoof and grabbed Caramel.
In that moment, everything stopped. It was a little hard to tell, because everything had already stopped but suddenly Dinky couldn’t move and they were old red tall fat short unicorn classy nonbinary pink pegasus punk young blonde orange earth pony chatty blue geeky female thestral male pinto alicorn green moody
And then everything stopped again. The changes, the world, Dinky’s own heart, all completely still. There was something behind her, she could feel its gaze on her and she needed to turn around and see the architect of this madness but she couldn’t move and
“So you’re the whelp,” a voice said, grating and cold. “And you can resist my influences? How irritating. I’ll have to make more focused efforts in the future.”
And then everything started again. Caramel and Dinky fell to the dust gasping for breath, his hoof still in hers.
Caramel pushed himself up shakily and looked at her. He was male again, a little tubby around the middle, an earth pony. But for a moment, his blue eyes sparkled like shattered glass. “What -- what was that?” he asked.
Dinky heard two sets of hooves galloping up the road. She tightened her mouth into a firm line. “I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”
Luna’s arrival was neither smooth nor quick. The first the Doctor knew of it was a sensation of surprise. For a moment, a shape that might have been his old friend flickered into existence, wings outstretched, but then was gone. Her presence, however, remained. Over the course of the next several minutes, the blue rocks and soil shifted erratically, twisting in loops and whorls. Throughout it all, the Doctor remained perfectly still, eyes shut.
Finally, after half an hour or so had passed, he heard Luna’s voice, crackly and distant. “-tor, can you hear me? Doctor, are you there?”
He smiled and opened his eyes. Luna’s form stood before him, constructed from the blue earth that composed this world. “Hello, Luna. I’m glad you’re here.”
Luna’s eyes darted around. She looked rather nervous. “Where is here, Doctor? If this is a nightmare, it doesn’t seem a particularly bad one.”
The Doctor screwed up his face and waved his hoof in a ‘sort-of, kind-of’ manner. “There’s some specific elements of it that make it a lot worse for me, personally. I’ll… explain later. But I’ll agree that I’ve had worse. Trouble is, I’m having some difficulty waking up.”
Luna stared at him. “We see. And, er, when did you go to sleep?”
The Doctor thought about that. “Not sure.”
“What was the date?” Luna tried.
“Twenty-fifth of May, Year 18 Harmonic Era.” He paused. “That’s still today, right?”
“Yes,” Luna said, her tone surprisingly neutral. “Doctor, what is the last thing you can remember doing?”
“Going into the TARDIS to make some repairs.” His face fell. “Oh. Has my body been hijacked by something? Is this all some kind of elaborate metaphor?”
Luna stared at him. “Is it?”
“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking you!”
Luna shifted uncomfortably. “To the best of my knowledge... no. Your body is fine.”
The Doctor tilted his head back and to the left, studying Luna. “You’re hiding something,” he said, surprise warring with hurt.
“I certainly am not!”
“Luna, I’ve known you since you were a filly. I practically raised you. I’m practically your dad!”
She blanched. “You are no such…” she tailed off. “Oh. That’s -- that is an extremely strange way of thinking about that.”
The Doctor sucked on his teeth. “Yeah, let’s… not go down that road again.”
“Agreed.”
“Anyway. Point is, I know all your tells, and I know when you’re being cagey.”
Luna shrugged. “I know all your tells as well, Doctor.”
“So?”
“So, saying that you’ll ‘explain later’ is a guarantee that you’ll never bring that subject up again.”
The Doctor opened his mouth. The Doctor shut his mouth.
“I won’t pry if you don’t,” Luna said.
The Doctor merely nodded, not meeting her eyes. “So, er, about the waking up part…”
Luna shook her head sharply, as though to clear it. “Of course,” she said. “A moment, please.”
With that, she stared off into space for several seconds. The rock and soil that comprised her avatar began to crumble, now that there was no mental focus there to support it. This was nothing new, but the Doctor still averted his eyes. It felt like watching someone sleep.
After a few moments, Luna returned, frowning. “You can wake up now, Doctor. The mental block that was keeping you here has been removed. It’s odd, though; I couldn’t tell what had caused it.”
The Doctor shrugged. “Probably a fault in the telepathic circuits. I’ll see to it straightaway. Thanks a million, Luna! You’re a lifesaver.”
The dream faded, taking with it Laika, Quiescia, and Luna. But as he floated towards the waking world, he thought he heard his old friend say, half to herself, “I certainly hope so, Doctor. I certainly do.”
The Doctor awoke with a start slumped over the central console, falling on his flank as he flailed. He stared at the ceiling for a long moment. Apparently, the sore stiffness in his neck and back hadn’t been just a dream. He twisted around and winced at the series of pops from his spine.
Stretching like a cat, he pushed himself up to all fours and looked around. He was standing in the console room -- the current console room, not a memory dredged from the past. It was still quite dimly lit, same as when he’d arrived. The interface was standing in the corner, quite still. When had he turned it off? He couldn’t quite recall. Something about last-minute repairs. Telepathic circuits. Yes. That explained everything. Why he’d been asleep, why he’d had that strange dream that was already starting to fuzz and fade from his memory. Best look into that. Company would be coming.
Absently, the Doctor began to potter about the room, making small changes to the TARDIS in ways he didn’t even realize he was doing. A spark of red glimmered in the interface’s clear plastic eye. Everything was falling into place.
Sweetie pushed open the door of the Carousel Boutique and looked around. It wasn’t very busy today. Rarity didn’t tend to have as much trade in the warmer months, but she made up for it in commissions. Which meant, Sweetie supposed, that she was probably cooped up in the back rooms somewhere. “Hey!” she called, walking into the boutique. “I’m back!”
Only silence. Well, that wasn’t unusual. Rarity had a habit of getting absorbed in her work to the exclusion of all else. She had expected Spike to be around, though. Maybe he was out grocery shopping or something. Or they’d gone out together for a lunch date that had run long.
But that didn’t feel quite right. There was something in the air, some tension that had yet to release, like the building was holding its breath. Sweetie faltered and glanced around. There was nothing off about this room that she could see. Slowly, she made her way toward the back of the shop. She passed through the doorway that separated the showroom from the fitting area, and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She spun around.
“SURPRISE!” Rarity, Spikie, Pinkie Pie, and Big Mac chorused. Sweetie shrieked and stumbled back, laughing.
“Oh, Celestia, you guys really got me!”
Rarity stepped forward and kissed her sister’s cheek. “Welcome home, darling,” she said.
Spike made to speak, but Pinkie Pie cut him off, bouncing in place with a huge grin on her face. “Hi-Sweetie-Belle-I’m-so-happy-you’re-back-from-Manehattan-great-seeing-you-gotta-go-plan-another-party-BYE!”
She then bounced one last time, directly out of sight of everyone present, and was gone. Sweetie blinked. “Huh. And here I thought I was desensitized to Pinkie.”
“Being away so long must’ve made you forget,” Spike said, tousling Sweetie’s mane. “Although… she has been a little more Pinkie than usual today.”
“Oh?”
Rarity hummed her agreement. “She just turned up an hour ago to help us set up our little surprise, completely out of the blue. And she was like that--” Rarity gestured vaguely to where Pinkie had been standing, “--the entire time. Something about a doozy of a whammy, and her Pinkie Sense going off-kilter.”
“Oh.” Sweetie hesitated. “So… should we be worried?”
“Prob’ly,” Mac said. “Howdy, by the way.”
“Oh, hi Mac. What’re you doing here?”
Mac grunted. “Took a funny turn gettin’ mah dress fit, had to sleep it off in the back.”
Sweetie’s eyebrows shot up. “You? A funny turn?”
“Sweetie Belle,” Rarity reprimanded.
“What? Mac’s probably the most grounded pony in town. Her having a funny turn is kinda weird.”
“Thank ya kindly fer yer concern, Miz Belle, but Ah’m jes’ fine, now. Matter of fact, Ah should probably get back up to th’ farm. Gotta get th’ east orchard fertilized ‘fore the shindig tonight.”
“You’re going to see it?” Sweetie asked.
Mac shrugged. “May as well. AJ an’ Bloom are, so it’s either that or stay home with Granny. Which Ah wouldn’t mind, ‘xactly, but Bloom…” she hesitated. “Well, that ain’t nothin’ Ah wanna bother you about.”
Sweetie cocked her head. “Huh?”
Mac coughed. “Anyway, uh, mah dress?”
“I left it right up front, dear. Come along, I’ll put it in a bag for you.”
Sweetie looked up at Spike. “...So what’s up with Apple Bloom, exactly?”
“Oh. She hasn’t told you, huh?” Spike huffed, and a cloud of sparkling smoke puffed out the sides of his mouth. “Well, it’s no secret, so I don’t mind telling. Bloom’s… planning on leaving Ponyville.”
Sweetie blinked. “What? Why?”
“That, I don’t know. But she keeps talking about feeling cooped up here. She wants to move on and move out. AJ, Mac, and Granny… they aren’t taking it well.”
“Well, they wouldn’t, would they?” Sweetie rubbed her cheek. “I can’t believe she didn’t mention it at lunch. I mean, I can’t believe she’s leaving.”
Spike tilted his head. “Why’s that?”
“Well, she -- I mean, she -- I dunno. I just can’t picture Sweet Apple Acres without her. Can’t really picture Ponyville without her.”
Spike nodded. “Yeah. I think that might be the problem.”
“Huh?”
“...No, never mind. Just thinking to myself. C’mon, Pinkie brought along a sheet cake.”
“Well… alright,” Sweetie said. Internally, she vowed to bring this up the next time she saw Apple Bloom. Ponyville without her just didn’t seem right. She quickly quashed the thought that maybe Apple Bloom had thought the same way about Ponyville without the other Crusaders.