//------------------------------//
// Nox Aeterna (Act Three) 
// Story: Cigarettes & Gunmetal 
// by MonoGlyph 
//------------------------------//




To distance her thoughts from the mare currently exfoliating and shining her ragged hooves, Fluttershy considered the bout of verbal judo unfolding between the two unicorns. Every phrase that spilled from Rarity’s mouth seemed expertly fashioned to make Twilight uncomfortable. Perhaps she was taking revenge for their unannounced intrusion into her private evening. 

“Twilight, dear, you simply must try one of these massages,” she said in honeyed tones as a muscular stallion worked on her back. Her insect lenses were gone but, if anything, her navy blue eyes were proving to be even more intimidating. “That tension of yours can’t be healthy.”

Twilight, for her part, remained standing and still fully clothed, unconsciously projecting an image of a coiled spring.  

“That’s not what I’m here for,” she insisted.

“Oh, I see,” Rarity inserted a musical chuckle. “You needn’t worry, you know. All the males have been castrated.” 

The librarian flushed a bright crimson. 

Fluttershy gathered the courage to interrupt. “Mm… Miss Rarity? I thought you said you’d tell us about Princess Luna?”

Rarity sighed. “Oh, very well. Are either of you well-read on the Equestrian Civil War?”

“Yeah,” said Twilight begrudgingly. “In the late 1700s, Equestria started to research unearthed anthroid relics they scammed off of diamond dog miners. It kicked off a global technological singularity, and Luna—being the stubborn mossback that she was—led a bloody campaign to eradicate anthroid technology and return equine society to its untarnished state. If I recall, she didn’t have any substantial plan besides ‘destroy what we can find’. Naturally, this didn’t work out in her favor.”

Rarity nodded, smiling wryly. “Very good. You’re glancing over much of the nuance, but I suppose this will suffice for our purposes.”

Twilight looked away, muttering to herself. The words ‘privileged’, ‘egotistical’ and ‘vamp’ were uttered in quick succession and Rarity pretended not to hear them. Unaware of, or perhaps professionally indifferent to, the tension filling the room, Fluttershy’s attendant quietly asked the pegasus to stop fidgeting.

“But you see,” Rarity continued, “This is a different era. And a fairly uncomplicated method of bringing the world back into a second Dark Age may now exist.”

“Does it?” asked Twilight, sounding skeptical. “Do tell.”

“I intend to nip it in the bud before the situation complicates.” Rarity stretched catlike on the massage bench. “Carousel Industries has already decided on a course of action. With luck, the Lunar Princess will be incapacitated and brought to justice before the night is through.”

“Isn’t that… Lodestar’s duty?” Fluttershy asked uncertainly. 

“Lodestar lacks my resources,” answered Rarity, and Twilight could have sworn that the exec sounded almost defensive. “Besides which, I’ve been commissioned by a higher authority.”

“You’re not talking about gods,” said Twilight. “Are you?”

“Do I strike you as a mare of an ecclesiastical persuasion, Miss Sparkle?”

Twilight shrugged. “I don’t know. What do devotees look like these days?”

The attendant’s voice again. Miss Fluttershy, please refrain from any unnecessary movement.

“What indeed,” agreed Rarity.





Sparse moonlight shone through the glassless windows of the old fort. The structure once served as an Equestrian guard outpost to repel foreign invaders, but it seemed to have fallen into disuse and disrepair since Luna’s departure. 

The Everfree had reclaimed much of the land surrounding the fort; a lively stream now ran adjacent to the building. She saw the inert body of a massive sea serpent floating on the rapids and wondered briefly how it had come to reside in such a small body of water, so far away from the ocean. An impromptu radio tower had been constructed from assorted scrap metal and jutted precariously from the old stone. 

She was greeted by a portly, overeager stallion who introduced himself as ‘Blue Moon’ Louis.

“It’s a pleasure to meet Your Radiance at last.” He raised her fetlock to his lips and she snatched it away, swatting him across the face. 

“Don’t misunderstand me, sir.” The title pronounced in a strained tone, clearly insincere. “I am not merely some trollop to be idled with in return for your services to my cause.”

He bit his lip. “Milady.”

A younger stallion emerged from further in. Her heart skipped at the sight—he looked similar to a pegasus, but leaner, with high cheekbones, reptilian golden eyes and leathery, bat-like wings. A thestral; possibly among the last of his kind. 

“Excuse the geriatric. We’ve arranged a gathering to honor your return. Please allow me to escort you.” 

Blue Moon bristled. “Pardon me? Do you know who I am?”

Luna spared the youth a smile. “I’d be delighted.”

Ignoring the glowering stallion following closely behind, the thestral youth led her further into the fort. A few halls were still covered in withered rugs, and torn banners hung forlornly from catwalks above. She recognized a fair number of the designs, pre-industrial coats of arms belonging to different platoons from the Solar and Lunar Legions.

“I notice you’re of chiropteran blood,” said Luna. “Tell me your name, child.”

“Nova Jr.” He looked embarrassed for a moment. “I was promoted for my heritage, but in truth there’s still an entire borough for thestral residents in downtown Ponyville.”

He led her into a vast atrium crowded with a couple hundred followers. A deathly hush permeated the air. There wasn’t a set uniform, but most among the group were dressed in somber darks, as though attending a funeral. A few higher-ranking individuals were clad in the ceremonial cobalt of the Lunar Legion. And above, much of the roof had collapsed, allowing an uninterrupted view of the clouded moon and stars. In the deserted center stood a frugal-looking altar. As she approached the structure, she saw that it supported a silver-gray headdress. 

Memories flooded back.

It couldn’t have been her original Lunar Helm: that was smelted with the Solar Crown just before her formal banishment to produce the united diadem that Celestia still wore to this day. But even so, the resemblance was uncanny; it was a replica of exquisite craftsmanship. With an air of reverence, she mounted the helm on her head once more; for the first time in two centuries, she felt whole. 

A disturbance rippled through the assembled faithful. She heard a voice, hushed but noticeable against the silence nonetheless. 

“We’re just here to watch. Unless you want a broken nose, you’ll let us.”

She grimaced. “Who ventures to interrupt this hallowed moment of my return?”

The effect was instantaneous. Those among the crowd wearing Lunar Guard plate took their stations, obstructing the doors. The assembly morphed subtly until two mares stood isolated before her. The orange-coated salt-of-the-earth laborer looked appropriately intimidated and averted her eyes, but her pegasus companion glared impudently back at Luna, unconcerned by her or the mob surrounding them.  

“My bad,” said the pegasus coolly. “Keep going, don’t mind us.”





“You’ve really done it now,” muttered Applejack out of the corner of her mouth. 

Rainbow allowed herself an aside glance toward the farmer, a calculated expression of dismissal aimed at the alicorn. “Pshaw. What are they going to do, kill us?”

The alicorn mare clicked her tongue at the cobalt-plated bouncers. “Take them outside and teach them of due respect.” 

“Now’s our chance,” said Applejack. “We can break away from them and run back to town once they show us out.”

One of the well-muscled stallions laid his forehoof on Rainbow’s neck. She shrugged away and whirled to face him, baring her teeth. 

“You’re gonna have to work for your paycheck tonight, tiny.”

Applejack grunted in exasperation. “Mind giving the snappy one-liners a rest, Dash? Unlike you, I’m not insured against provoked battery.” 

Leaves rustling outside. They heard them clearly through the shattered dome of the atrium. A harsh wind picked up, entered the interior and raced, trapped inside the antiquated hollow of the fort. The whirr of rotors served as an undercurrent to the howling of disturbed air currents. Applejack shielded her eyes as a spotlight pierced the darkness and glared, swaying back and forth, cutting blind spots into the assembled crowd. She made out vague outlines of two helidrones hovering against the starlight. 

A low-fidelity speaker built into each machine broadcast a gratingly cheery voice. 

“Wow! Quite a turnout, huh Lulu?” There was a slight delay between the two microphones, making it sound as though the crowd was being addressed by a well-rehearsed duet. “My employer would like you all to know that she’s very much looking forward to meeting each and every one of you!” 

Applejack heard a clean snap of unlocking metal: the two drones were equipped with wide-barreled riot guns. Rainbow shoved her back into the group and followed closely behind, operating almost entirely on conditioned instinct. 

The riot guns unloaded on the defenseless crowd. Tennis ball-sized pellets of a grayish-white substance shot from the barrels with the urgency of assault rifle rounds. Rainbow was thrown to the ground as a stray pellet hit her dead in the side, sticking to a wing. Applejack hefted the pegasus back to her feet before she could be trampled by the panicking crowd. 

Rainbow Dash stared in stunned fascination at the flattened pellet as it started to swell on the molded levitite alloy of her wing. “Shit. Expanding sticky foam. We have to get out of here before the fuckers smother us in the stuff.” 

The last thing Applejack saw as she turned to look back was the shadowy form of the star-touched alicorn as it sped through one of the helidrones, bisecting it with a single cleave of an ultraviolet blade. 

They burst out of the building in a mad dash, weaving through the escaping bodies. Rainbow’s right wing jerked but remained shut when she tried to unfold it; the foam had gummed over the joints. The pegasus smiled bleakly. 

“I guess we’ll have to hoof it, huh AJ?”

“Go ahead and try.”

His serpentine eyes regarded them with icy calm, apparently oblivious to the surrounding chaos. “You led those helidrones here, didn’t you?”

“And you’re that thestral kid that was with the pompous alicorn bitch, right?” asked Rainbow. Applejack felt a sharp pang of frustration hearing her not so much as try to deny the accusation. 

She’s an instigator. She’ll get us killed. 

The thestral discarded his calm like a mask, revealing the unrestrained rage beneath. He lunged forward, forelegs a sparking blur. The old cocktail seeped through Rainbow’s veins like a narcotic: adrenaline, the stir of muscle memory from ingrained drills, her brain shifting into overdrive to analyze each of her opponent’s motions like a play-by-play. She sidestepped the blow, hair of her coat standing on end, her mind turning over the information and arriving at a conclusion she wouldn’t be fully conscious of until later: the rear side of each of his legs was fitted with a high-voltage stun baton. Each electrified rod was wired into a bulky battery unit strapped onto his back. 

Rainbow threw out a speculative hook and the thestral deflected it with a sweep. The recoil of the blow took her off balance, and the stallion stepped in to take advantage of the opening. The baton grazed her static-upright mane as she ducked and retreated from his effective range. She regarded the thestral with newfound caution.

His legs rooted to the ground; simple, pragmatic strikes and counters intended to keep the opponent unsteady, without putting himself in unnecessary risk. This was not a pegasus-taught martial art. It appeared to be a modified Royal Guard stance: effective, but rigid. If she stayed mobile, she should have been able to eventually come out on top… but with one of her wings out of commission— 

Applejack sprinted past her, flailing wildly at the thestral. He rocked from side to side, avoiding one blow and stopping the next with his shoulder. Rainbow opened her mouth to warn her but it was a split second too late: one of the thestral’s batons connected with Applejack’s ribcage. The farmer grunted and thrashed, but then, by accident or by design, her forelegs closed around his sides. Rainbow Dash smelled burning plastic and battery acid in the air: the stun batons and the unit on the thestral’s back had short circuited, and the stallion himself hadn’t gotten off any easier. He collapsed, still convulsing and quickly losing consciousness.

Applejack stood over him, gasping and swaying. 

“T-t-tarnation. Nearly bit off my tongue.”

“You sure can take a hit, ‘Jack, I’ll give you that much,” said Rainbow. It suddenly occurred to her that the mob was gone. They were alone, facing the Everfree as it unfolded before them for miles in every direction. The whirring of the rotors hasn’t subsided; was getting louder, in fact. 

The remaining helidrone emerged from the building above them. It was still mostly intact, indicating that the alicorn had either fallen or—more likely—withdrawn. By the time she remembered to shield her eyes, the machine’s spotlight had already half-blinded her. The irritating low-fi voice again:

“Oh, hey there. Looks like I missed a couple! Prepare to be…” It stopped. She saw the built-in camera adjust focus. “Hmmm! You wouldn’t happen to be Rainbow Dash, would ya?” 

Rainbow gritted her teeth. Maybe I should just dye my fucking mane; save myself some trouble.

Aloud she said “Who wants to know?”

“Come along. My employer wants to have a chat,” answered the helidrone. 

She could feel Applejack’s stare on the back of her neck. “And if I refuse?”

The machine considered this. “Refuse? If you’d prefer I could just shoot you and have you picked up by my coworkers in the morning. That’s more fun for me, anyway! What do you say?” 

Rainbow sighed. She couldn’t outpace a helidrone in her present condition. 

“I’ll take option one. My friend’s coming with, though.” She winked at Applejack. “Can’t leave her hanging out here all by herself after a night on the town, can I?” 





There is a quiet bustle inside the facility as the transporters move her through the halls. The scenario seems vaguely familiar, but she can’t recall where she’d experienced it before or how it might end. Doctors and nurses scamper out of the way of the incoming stretcher. She glances at each of them in turn and, yes, they seem completely indifferent to her as she passes. The stretcher rapidly accelerates to a speed she’s come to anticipate; it’s suspended on an air cushion rather than conventional wheels. 

Windows blur past, darkened, a silver crescent peeking from behind distant clouds. Something’s tapping on the glass.  

“What’s that sound?” Twilight asks dreamily, though in her heart of hearts she already knows the answer. 

“Sound? That’s rain, honey,” her father answers.

“Rain,” she echoes.

“Indeed. Not a common occurrence anymore, I take it?”

The third voice sounds somewhere behind her, but she can’t identify it. It feels wrong, somehow. Unfocused panic sets in. With some effort, she lifts her head off the pillow, props herself on her foreleg and turns to look. 

It isn’t Princess Celestia following closely behind her and her parents. While still an alicorn, the mare is darker and wiry to the point of looking unhealthy. Nor is it the Celestial Diadem perched on her head, but a cobalt headdress reminiscent of a legionnaire’s galea: sleek curves built to deflect blades and a wide nose guard. Pinpricks of starlight shine in her flowing mane.

The alicorn mare smiles sadly at her. “You’re my sister’s apprentice then, are you. I wish there was no need for bloodshed; my quarrel is not with you or your peers. But alas.” She exhales, radiating regret. 

Yeah, right.

Suddenly Twilight feels lucid enough to speak her mind. “Fuck you.”

Nightmare Moon snaps back to her, surprised. 

“Fuck you,” Twilight says again, “and all your kind. ‘I wish there was no need for bloodshed’ you declare as you consolidate your militias, your revolutionaries, your assassins.”

A shadow passes over the Nightmare’s face. “You insolent foal…!”

The caravan arrives to the doors of the operating room. Neither Twilight’s parents nor her transporters give any indication that they hear the conversation. Twilight rallies self-destructively onward.

“Employers are losing workers, friends are losing friends, parents are losing children and you sigh, musing ‘if only it weren’t so.’” 

The hilt of the knife is in plain view. She grabs it and twists. “In the end, you’re no better than your sister; duplicitous and manipulative.” 

The Nightmare flinches, as though physically accosted. Twilight breaks eye contact; her boiling rage calms to a slow simmer of disgust. “How about you fight your own damn war,” she adds finally. 

The large bulk of the autosurgeon hangs overhead, stainless steel arms folded and withdrawn, like the legs of a massive deceased insect. There’s one arm for every instrument, be it laser scalpel, cauter or buzz saw. Its photoreceptor regards her stoically.

The Nightmare opens her mouth, but her retort is lost amid the hum of machinery as the autosurgeon comes alive. It descends slowly over Twilight, limbs dancing as it checks the functionality and mobility of each. The saw screams.

Darkness.





After having followed the helidrone back to the Ponyville corporate quarter, they were ushered into a modestly-sized room plated in whites and grays. A small waiting room table stood level with three eggshell chairs. The chairs were suspended in midair by nanofibers and electromagnets; while Applejack could appreciate the dedication to a sleek, futuristic aesthetic, the faint magnetic pull she felt on her augmented spinal column forced her to switch off the magnets and lower the eggshell to the floor. Rainbow Dash followed suit with her own chair, presumably for similar reasons. 

Something about the room made it seem less a waiting room and more an interrogation chamber. Applejack couldn’t quite determine why. 

“Sparse furnishings,” noted Rainbow. “Chilly atmosphere. Not much visual stimulus. Maybe you’re on to something, ‘Jack.”

Pointedly ignoring their surroundings, they made small talk for close to an hour. While Rainbow Dash was very interested in her time on Artemis II, Applejack noticed that she seemed evasive regarding her own past. Of course, that wasn’t to say that Applejack herself was entirely forthcoming about the expedition. The changeling invasion was to remain undisclosed to the public, after all. Knowing this, Applejack begrudgingly allowed Rainbow a modicum of privacy on the subject of her tour in Bridleon. 

At last, an austere-looking suit entered the room, carrying a binder and wearing a wooden expression. He closed the door behind himself, sustaining the impression that they were prisoners.

“Good morning, Miss Dash. Miss Applejack.” He gave each of them a shallow nod. “My name is Eiffel, and I will be your intermediary with the rest of Carousel Industries until Madam Rarity is prepared to speak with you.”

“So this is Carousel, huh?” Rainbow ribbed him playfully with her forehoof. “Guess I have you guys to thank for this expertly matched smart-eye of mine.”

“Quite,” he said humorlessly. 

“Whoa buddy, try to curb your enthusiasm.” Rainbow smiled amicably, clenching her teeth. “I could have sworn I almost heard some emotion in your voice.” 

“I beg your pardon?”

Rainbow fell silent. The stallion’s aura was like a vacuum, draining the life from its surroundings. The silence stretched. 

Applejack cleared her throat after about half a minute.

“So, uh, how long have you—” 

“At any rate, if you have any questions or requests in the meantime, please do not hesitate to ask,” said Eiffel, steamrolling over her. 

“Requests, huh.” Rainbow jerked her plastered tri-fold toward him meaningfully. “How ‘bout you scrub this shit offa my wing?”

“In due time, Miss Dash,” he said, leafing distractedly through his binder. “In due time.”

She bit the inside of her cheek. Her teeth were starting to itch.





From: Circuit Cutter
To: Blue Moon
Subject: Acceleration
Message: Luis,
Our mutual benefactor has informed me that she wishes to move our schedule forward by one week. Operation Griderez is go on the 21st. Please make the appropriate arrangements immediately. I will await your word at the launch site. 
Nox Aeterna, brother.  
<End message>

“Anything of use, Miss Pie?”

Shifting focus from her display strip, she saw her employer loitering at the doorway, frowning. The corners of her mouth tugged upwards in response and she forced them back down with more effort than should really have been necessary.

“Maybe. Might I say, your mane’s looking particularly luscious today. Productive night?”

Rarity’s frown deepened. “I will thank you to stay out of my affairs, Pinkamena. Have you found anything or not?”

Pinkie pursed her lips diplomatically and took a swig from the can of bromantane soda perched conspicuously on her tabletop. Trying to hide the nervous tremor in her pianist fingers, she overcompensated and nearly crushed the can. “Apparently the launch has been moved up to tomorrow.”

Rarity froze, aghast. “Tomorrow? We won’t have any assault ops on reserve until Saturday!”

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” said Pinkie, gently setting the deformed cylinder back on the table and tuning back to the emails. “Better figure something out, Rare. I don’t have the patience to learn another trade if this one falls through.”

A shrill buzzing filled the hallway outside. 

Pinkie’s face split in a schadenfreude-fed grin. “Speaking of patience; looks like our guests downstairs have exhausted their supply.”

Rarity clapped a forehoof to her forehead, frustration mounting at every turn. 

Should have posted some guards outside their room. 

Voices filtered in. 

She backed away from the doorway as the technicolor-maned mare Pinkie identified as Rainbow Dash turned the corner outside and peeked in at them. Having accompanied her, another mare came to rest stoically just outside the door.  

“I was told I could find management here,” Rainbow Dash said in a sour tone. “We’ve been sitting in that chamber for over an hour.”

“Talk to Rare,” said Pinkie, jerking a finger in Rarity’s direction with breezy aplomb. 

Rarity shot her a look, but the decker took no notice behind her display strip. We’ll talk about this later. She turned to face the expectant newcomer with some reluctance and noticed that she too was looking in Pinkie’s direction. Maybe she’d recognized the decker’s voice as the one that addressed her through the microphone of the helidrone. If she held a grudge about being forcibly marched here, her face didn’t show it.

Rarity swayed back and forth, trying to find a vantage point to see over Dash’s shoulders and into the hall beyond. From what she could see it was empty, save for her Stetson-wearing companion.

“Where’s Eiffel? He was supposed to address your needs in my stead.”

Rainbow Dash shrugged. 

Specks of blood stain the pristine table as she rams the stallion’s head repeatedly into the glassy surface. By the time Applejack manages to finally pull her away from him, Eiffel is fully unconscious with a fractured muzzle and several dislodged teeth littering the inside of his mouth. 

“Sleeping on the job,” she said simply. 

Applejack’s voice sounded from the hall outside, apologetic or merely embarrassed: “He, ehm, he might need some medical attention.”

Rarity inclined her head, affecting to look unimpressed. “I see.” 

She sized up the pegasus as though considering something, and then nodded to herself. “Hmm. Alright, Miss Dash. Perhaps your penchant for violence could be better utilized to serve our purposes. What do you say?”

Rainbow glared at her own reflection in the exec’s lenses. Her perfume overpowered Rainbow’s canine-spliced nostrils. 

“To what end?” she asked, strained casualness in her tone.

Rarity only smiled. 

Somewhere in the distance, Pinkie Pie downed the rest of her cola and spun gleefully in her swivel chair. “Better put your game face on! We’re saving the world, Dashie!”





With a focused effort of will, she finally managed to peel her eyelids and survey her surroundings. She was folded over an inert massage chair and covered in a heated blanket. One of her hooves protruded from the covers and as she raised it for inspection, she saw that it was smooth and bore a gleam to rival gunmetal. She stirred under the blanket, confirming her suspicions: she was naked underneath. 

She had no recollection of stripping her black denims and jacket, yet there they were, folded neatly atop a chest of drawers by her side. Her mane was slick and free of the fastidious ponytail that she habitually wore. Her back muscles, from the base of the spine to the brain stem, felt looser, more flexible. She felt vaguely violated, and the fact that she couldn’t remember much of the night before only served to support that impression.  

Fluttershy was spread face-down on one of the benches, covered in a blanket identical to her own. A gentle background of dull white noise filled the room and it took Twilight a moment to register that it must’ve been raining outside. 

One of the twin spa owners, Aloe probably, trotted over smiling.

“Hey, uh, sorry,” started Twilight. “I left my credit stick at home.”

“Do not concern yourselves with payment,” she answered smoothly. “Madam Rarity has covered your stay.”

Twilight sighed.

Well at least there’s that. I hope she won’t demand I repay the ‘favor’.

A prompt flashed on her NOI.

>Invitation to join private conversation received from Aegis.
>Accept? 

Twilight gestured apologetically to the twin, pointing at her eye. Aloe(?) nodded and bustled away to see to Fluttershy. 

Accept.

(13:11) Star-Struck joined the conversation.
(13:11) Aegis: It’s about time. I’ve been trying to contact you all morning, but both your cell and NOI were shut off. 
(13:11) Star-Struck: Sorry, I was asleep. Did you find any info on the crash, Shining?
(13:12) Aegis: Sure, but that’s not why I was trying to contact you. 
(13:12) Aegis: First off, yeah, Nightmare Moon’s back, they’ve been keeping her in a lunar oubliette ever since the civil war. Presently she’s still in a weakened state. They kept her physical and magical power in check with continuous radiation poisoning over the past two centuries.
(13:12) Star-Struck: Seriously? Radiation for two hundred years? Shouldn’t she be just one massive throbbing tumor by now?
(13:13) Aegis: Maybe. I’m not clear on the details myself.
(13:13) Aegis: More importantly, I think she may be heading to confront the Princess. There was a mass blackout in the palace two hours ago. I’ve been unable to reach anyone inside since. I’ve left for Canterlot so don’t expect me back in the library for a while.
(13:14) Star-Struck: Hold on, you’re flying to Canterlot without me?
(13:14) Aegis: Honestly Twily, what did you expect? You’re a civilian and, no offense, but you’re not any good under pressure. 

Twilight paused. Why was she so keen on going to Canterlot, anyway? It would doubtlessly have been a dangerous excursion, but… 

But I’m getting sick of this loud, obnoxious slum. And anyway, I wouldn’t mind getting a front-row seat to a showdown between Celestia and her sister. It might take that smug immortal sociopath down a peg or two.

(13:14) Star-Struck: You can’t stop me from following you.
(13:15) Aegis: Just don’t, okay? I’ve got enough to worry about without your help. Head back to the library, lay low, lay down some wards to discourage any other hit men. Once this is all sorted out, I’ll discuss what to do about your newfound notoriety with the princess. 
(13:15) Star-Struck: Sure, sounds great, Shining. Go “sort it out”. I’ll chalk up some wards and hope that they don’t fry some hapless library visitor. Oh boy, wouldn’t that be embarrassing?
(13:15) Aegis: Then lock the door and put up the ‘closed’ sign. Listen, it’s been a while since your pre-school years and I’m not Cadance; I’m not going to foalsit you. You’re a big girl now, so act like it for once in your life. 
(13:15) Aegis: Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a regicide to prevent. 
(13:15) Aegis has left the conversation.
(13:16) Star-Struck: Asshole.  

She realized she must’ve donned a grimace in response to Shining’s disdain. Fluttershy approached her, radiating well-intentioned concern. Her hare bounded after her reluctantly, still outwardly hostile towards Twilight.

“Are you okay, Twilight?”

Twilight looked away, uncharacteristically bashful. They were both still naked. Casting aside the heated blanket and struggling hastily into her denims, she cleared her throat. 

“I gotta go. The Nightmare’s gone to confront Celestia in Canterlot.”

Fluttershy’s forehoof on her shoulder again, forcing them face-to-face.

“You’re going after Luna?” she asked grimly. “Alone?”

“Yeah. So?” Twilight shook off the shaman’s grip irritably. 

Fluttershy flinched away, suddenly self-conscious. She hesitated and exchanged a somber look with Angel. 

“I know you uh, you’re smart enough not to chase after alicorns without thinking things through so… So what is it? Your plan, I mean?”

Twilight stopped half-way to the door. 

Plan? Piss off Shining, I guess. 

“Hmm.” She cast an evaluative glance back at the shaman. “I guess. Maybe I could use some help.”

Fluttershy smiled encouragingly. 

While the shaman dressed in turn, Twilight took out her cell and clipped on the earpiece. The exec’s phone number drifted hazily through her mind, a fragment of useful information among unidentifiable mental detritus. She recalled that she hadn’t been entirely sure why Rarity had given her the sequence at the time, but it was admittedly coming in handy much sooner than anticipated. 

She heard a bitten off yawn as the call finally went through. Rarity’s face appeared on the screen, and Twilight got the impression that she’d caught the exec just as she was putting on her makeup. Once again, her trademark insect lenses were conspicuously absent from her face. 

“Rarity speaking. Is that you, Twilight? I told you not to worry, I’d covered your expenses.” 

“And we’re very grateful for that,” said Twilight carefully. “I was wondering if you’d do me another favor.”

Rarity studied her impassively, and then appeared to take interest in something off-screen. Twilight waited, assuming a mask of amicable patience. When the exec turned her attention back to her phone, her voice was nothing less than cordial.

“While I’m a generous soul by nature,” she started, “I can’t help but think that you may be taking advantage of me.”

“Yeah, well, do the words ‘national security’ mean anything to you?”

Rarity blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“I got in touch with my brother. Canterlot palace has gone dark a couple of hours ago and nobody inside is answering calls. It stinks of Nightmare.”

Far from the reaction Twilight had hoped for, Rarity merely looked thoughtful. “You’re suggesting Luna departed for Canterlot to confront her sister directly? Why would she do that?”

How about you fight your own damn war?

The memory materialized without warning, but Twilight couldn’t quite piece together the context. She tried to shut down the vague notion that this situation was somehow her fault; put it away for later scrutiny.

“She’s been locked in a microwave oven on the moon for a pretty long time,” she told the exec, her inflection just short of casual. She coughed, trying to play off the apprehension in her tone. “She might not be feeling particularly reasonable right now.”

“I suppose…” Rarity ran a distracted hoof through her mane. “Carousel is spread rather thin right now. Our strike teams are being trained and reevaluated in Manehatten and the one other competent combat operative I have at my disposal is being prepped for a higher-priority mission.”

“Higher priority?” Twilight repeated incredulously. “Higher priority than the preservation of Equestria’s administrative infrastructure? Who is this ‘competent combat operative’?”

“Her name is Rainbow Dash. Would that I could introduce you, but—”

“Rainbow Dash, huh,” Twilight muttered. “Six-toned mane? Cyan coat? Wing implants?”

“Ah, yes, that’s the one.” Raised eyebrows, a note of mild surprise in the exec’s tone. Twilight felt a warmth collecting in her chest born of petty satisfaction.

“We’re already acquainted. And this mission of hers?”

“Regrettably classified.”

Of course it is.

“You can’t help me at all?” Twilight asked doggedly. 

“Before I can make that determination, you have to be more succinct about what it is you actually want, darling.”

You’ve got me. I’m making this up as I go.

“I want,” she said emphatically into the mic, “transportation, at the very least. Armed personnel, if you can spare them. I’d also appreciate the help of somebody with experience in hardware and electronic troubleshooting.”

“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere.” Rarity smirked, but the twitch in her lip didn’t quite reach her eyes. “And I take it you need these things ASAP, yes? I’ll have the transport and some sundry other items waiting for you at sead-11 in, say… half an hour. Unfortunately, I must entrust the coordination of this operation entirely to you. I’ll be indisposed for the next hour or two.”

Twilight frowned. “Indisposed how?”

“Sead-11, Twilight. I wish you nothing but the best of luck.” Rarity’s face dissolved onscreen as the line went dead. 

Twilight undid the clip on her ear and stared wistfully at the featureless screen. “I guess that’s the best I can hope for.”

She turned to sneak a glance over her shoulder, but her gaze was immediately obscured by Fluttershy’s masked face. 

Twilight recoiled with a yelp, losing her telekinetic grip on the phone and nearly crushing it underfoot. “Holy shit, haven’t you ever heard of personal space?!”

“Oh, s-sorry. Uh. What did she say?”

Twilight grabbed the cell irritably off of the tiled ivory floor and pocketed it. “We’ve got a date at the sead.”





The SE-AD, or the South-East Aerial Dispatch, was an expansive tower-mounted platform used primarily as an office by the Aerial Taxi service. Gates eleven and up, however, were open for civilian access and were more or less public space. 

Twilight and Fluttershy rode the speeding elevator in silence amid a somber-looking group of ten or so other mares and stallions. The outside wall was plated in acrylic glass so the less easily unnerved could watch the city skyline as it fell away from them at a dizzying six hundred meters a minute. 

It was a smooth ride, save for a few moments of turbulence that Twilight attributed to the elevator cab passing one of the three other adjacent cabs. She felt Fluttershy tense up behind her every time this happened. 

You don’t see me acting chicken-shit, and I don’t even have wings.

She pulled up the Grapevine on her NOI to distract herself from the bulky, sweat-dewed stallion pressed up awkwardly against her side. Her eyes scanned the selection of headings on the front page and caught on one in particular. 

Local News: Crash Landing in Folk Bazaar

Her eyes widened for a split second before she remembered where she was and deliberately wiped the expression from her face. She focused on the heading and blinked twice in quick succession, opening the file.

Local News: Crash Landing in Folk Bazaar 

5:21 October 15, G4.2015

At approximately 22:30 last night, an unidentified aircraft touched down on the commercial center known as Folk Bazaar in New Ponyville’s residential quarter. Reported casualties recovered from the collision site currently stand eighteen strong, five of which have proven immediately fatal. One of these latter cases is reportedly the pilot, but this mare’s identity is awaiting verification. 

The aircraft appears to be a small-scale space shuttle and bears an as-yet unrecognized logo. Witnesses claim to have seen a tall, unnaturally slender alicorn emerge from the wreck and vanish shortly thereafter. 

This was also the scene of an armed clash ten to fifteen minutes later, occurring between three unicorns, two male and one female, one liberally-augmented female pegasus and two earth ponies, male and female. Two of the combatants were recovered; one dead and the other currently in Lodestar’s custody (unable to be reached for comment). The rest remain at large and are wanted for questioning. Police sketches are up for distribution.

If you have any information regarding these individuals or the crash, please contact Lodestar by phone or email, listed here.

<End article>

There was a sickly tension in her lungs as she opened the attached images. 

Shining Armor’s sketch was of a handsomely generic stallion sporting a light gray coat. His features were far too angular and the highlights in his mane were absent. Likewise, Twilight seemed to have gotten off relatively lightly: her portrait had a blue-tinted coat and the single identifying characteristic of the locator ink printed on the right side of the face. The ink designs were vague and inaccurate however, and Twilight knew from observation that a fair number of other Ponyville residents also wore facial tattoos. 

Most of the detail on the portraits supposedly gleaned in the gloom of the previous night was questionable at best. Rainbow Dash might have had a harder time evading law enforcement however, seeing that her eyepatch, multi-toned mane and wing implants seemed to have been transcribed onto the image with a fair degree of accuracy.

Twilight couldn’t quite comment on the image of Dash’s earth pony companion. She didn’t get a very good look at her at the time. The image portrayed her as oddly masculine, white-haired, freckled and azure-eyed.

At last, her body started to feel like it was getting lighter. The elevator was coming to a halt. Gate eleven led to the summit of the SE-AD’s public quarter. The SE-AD landing platform assembly was vaguely clover-shaped; each quarter was oblong and composed of ten landing platforms stacked neatly over one another, looking almost like a model of a corporate high-rise hanging from a slender support beam. 

One might be forgiven for misjudging platform eleven as ‘scenic’, given its awe-inspiring views of the steel-and-silver city horizon, were it not for its thin coating of wind-strewn litter and bird shit. Despite the midday hour, it was mostly devoid of life. Two or three lonely air cars sat dormant near the edges of the landing pad; most of the other drivers doubtlessly chose to park below, keeping their vehicles inside and out of the rain and other elements. For a few seconds Twilight wondered if they’d arrived too early, before she heard a hiss from one of the distant carrier barges. 

The vehicle was large and painted a conservative, radar-reflective black. Twin rotors flanked the sleek profile of the chassis, mounted on joints, allowing for angle adjustment. The belly of the vehicle split and five figures disembarked over a narrow walkway. 

Of the five, three wore leg-mounted firearms and Carousel security duds. The remaining two seemed unarmed and were clad in less readily identifiable uniform. 

A mare wearing a long, time-worn duster, the ends of the garment flapping violently in the wind like the wings of a skewered, dying fly. Gleaming chrome columns protruded from her spine and the slot in the duster seemingly cut expressly to accommodate them. Her hat was perched on her back, hanging loosely from her neck on a length of twine. Twilight narrowed her eyes, squeezing tears into the blistering winds. The mare was familiar; almost identical to the police sketch of the earth pony that accompanied Dash, save for color. 

The unicorn stallion standing next to her was wearing a pair of bulky sunglasses that looked like they might have been in style at the turn of the previous century. A pair of enormous studio cans hung around his neck, blasting something akin to shoddy garage rock. He kept a classical umbrella suspended over his head via levitation, constantly wrestling with the wind for control. His outmoded wardrobe was brought together by a cheap imitation Haywaiian shirt poking from his coat vest. A greasy-looking halo of moss-green hair flailed over his—

“Snake Eyes?” Fluttershy pushed past and trotted briskly toward the peculiar stallion. “What are you doing here? Are you working for Carousel now?”

“Oh, uh, ‘ey there, ‘Shy.” He coughed out a chuckle, and Twilight thought his cheeks reddened slightly beneath his shades. “Nah, this is, you know, strictly on a per diem basis. I haul some Carousel shit every so often, they pay me. I get a little help with the bills, the big boss gets her merch delivered. Everybody’s happy.” 

He slapped the hull of the barge affectionately. 

“I’m gonna be real here, I liked my teardrop better, but I’m not about to turn down a free company ride. ‘Specially a fancy number like this one.”

“So you’re our driver then,” said Twilight, and turned to the duster-clad mare. “And you are…?”

“Applejack,” she supplied around her chewing tobacco. “I’m your grease monkey.”

“I didn’t ask for a ‘grease monkey’. I asked for an electrician,” said Twilight testily.  

“Ee’yup, I can do that too.” Applejack flashed a tight smile. “I’m a full-time utility gal over at Flim/Flam Agricultural. I can maintain and repair pipes, circuits and the occasional automaton. Tryin’ to learn guns too, if that’s more your speed.”

The smile somehow conjured memories of the night before; of the farmer breaking a stallion’s neck with alarming ease. All of a sudden, arguing semantics with her didn’t seem wise. 

"O-okay," said Twilight. "And the muscle?"

One of the security detail stepped forward and presented himself obligingly. He was a dark, well-built, intimidating-looking pegasus. “Name’s Thunderlane.” He pointed at each of his comrades in turn. “The gryphon's name is is Giselle; don't stare, she's on parole from camp. The rookie’s Flash Sentry. Pinprick’s still inside, sulking.”

“So that’s it, then.” Twilight glanced over the assembled troop. “I get just the four guns going up against the all-powerful ex-Princess of the Night?”

“Well chief, to be fair, it’s not certain that the blackout at the palace is the Nightmare’s work,” said Snake Eyes, lip curling. “The boss has no real proof a blackout even happened. She barely fucking knows you. What’d you expect?” 

Honestly Twily, what did you expect?

“Fine, I get it,” Twilight conceded begrudgingly. “Let’s get this shit show on the road, then.”

“Sure thing, sunshine.” Snake Eyes grinned at Fluttershy. “Your friend’s a real piece of work, huh? This’ll be a helluva road trip.”

Beneath her mask, Fluttershy’s lips quirked up until she caught Twilight’s eye. Her smile shriveled painfully beneath the librarian’s steely glare.  

“Y-yeah…”