A friendly stranger delivers some unsettling knowledge about Life, the Universe, and Everything.
A visitor arrives in Equestria, bearing a wealth of knowledge and a troubled past. The Mane 6 are quick to befriend the stranger, who helps them to discover what they truly value in life, and how to achieve it.
But learning to overcome their fears and achieve their desires comes at a steep price, paid by their innocence.
“Applejack! Applejack!” The young pony cried as loudly as her burning lungs could manage. Her mane and flanks bore numerous scratches from her frantic dash through the underbrush of Everfree Forest, yet still she sped over the hilltop at a full gallop. Her voice, already hoarse and raspy, continued to shout with urgency as she closed the distance with her older sister.
“Applebloom! Tarnation, girl! You’re going to give me a heart attack if you keep on hollerin’ like that. Now slow down and catch your breath. Tell me what happened. Is anypony hurt?”
Applebloom wheezed as she approched, shaking her head from side to side while she caught her breath, but turning to point one hoof back in the direction she came. “Sis, we saw something.. “
“Tell me later,” Applejack stared her sister in the eyes. “Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo - are they okay? Tell me that first lil sis!”
“Yes,” she gasped. “They’re right behind.. “
The young filly turned to look back to the hill - no sign of her friends in sight. Her eyes widening as she stammered “They’re right behind.. they were right behind.. ohhhh” The gulps of air turned into a long sobbing wail as she collapsed into the tilled soil, her watery eyes still sweeping the horizon for her friends.
“Mac!” Applejack shouted. “Get her inside on the double. I’m headin out to find Scoots and Sweetie” She knelt beside her sister, placing one hoof on her dirty mane. “Now Applebloom, you have to tell me what you saw. Was it a monster out there? Did it follow you?”
“No sis. I don’t think it’s a monster. It’s different than that. Ah don’t know how to put it out, but it’s not natural lookin. Not natural at all.” Her gaze never left the horizon.
“Okay. You hang tight here. Get on up and go with Mac when you’re ready. I’ve gotta run now, but me and yer friends will all be safe and sound back here before you can say baked apple fritters.” With that, she shook off her fruit-laden saddlebags and dashed off towards Ponyville, leaving Applebloom weeping softly under Mac’s shadow.”
“Its not natural sis.. All made out of metal with a head of glass. Just not right.”
But she was already gone.
* * *
“Okay Pinkie, we give up. What does a zombie plant eat?”
Pinkie bounded on top of the park table, rearing her legs in the air and contorting her face into the visage of a reanimated corpse. “GRAAAAIIIINNSSSS,” she snarled. This left Rainbow Dash bawling in laughter on the grass, with Twilight Sparkle unable to decide if Pinkie’s joke or the pegasus’s uncontrollable braying was funnier. Pinkie leaped down beside her, doing her best impression of a bloodthirsty-yet-immobile vegetable stalk.
“Whew, that was a good one,” Twilight said with a smile. Studying magic all morning had left her in dire need of distraction. “Would anypony care to join me for tea and cakes at the bakery?”
“You know I can’t turn down that,” said Rainbow Dash.
“For your tea madame, one lump, or twenty?” inquired Pinkie in a posh accent.
“Enough sugar to knock out a hummingbird, of course!”
This cause another round of giggling.
“Well girls, let’s.. ”
“Twilight!”
“..go,” She stopped to listen.
“TWILIGHT!”
The three ponies turned to face the growing cloud of dust and flying gravel barreling towards them. Applejack’s hooves beat the ground frantically as she charged towards the group.
“Twilight! Thank Celestia you’re here. Y’all gotta come with me right away.”
“Is everything all right Applejack?”
“No, no it ain’t. Now keep up - I don’t have time to explain. Applebloom saw something in the forest. Can’t find Scoots or Sweetie Belle. I’m heading in there right now, but I need y’alls help.”
Twilight and Pinkie galloped alongside as Applejack barked orders. “Pinkie, you tell Rarity about Sweetie Belle. Round up some other ponies to help us search the Everfree Forest.
“Search Party!” Pinkie bounded gleefully, just before the smile melted from her face, and her witty outburst tailed off into concrete seriousness. She locked eyes with Applejack, gave a sharp nod, and turned to gallop towards Rarity’s shop.
“Rainbow, go high and start looking for Scootaloo.” The pegasus departed like a missile trailing every color of the sunbeam.
“Twilight, got a job for you, girl,” she gasped between breaths. “I need you to call up Boss Hoss and let her..”
“You mean the Princess?” Twilight gaped at the crude nickname.
“Darn it girl, you know damn well who I’m talking about. I wouldn’t be calling her for any old reason like somepony getting lost, or some beasty thing in the forest - but I ain’t never seen my sis get spooked like that. I reckon she ran harder than any of us put together when she saw it. I don’t know what we got ourselves up against, but it might be all the difference to let her know. Now.
“Okay.. ”
“GO!”
With that, Applejack bounded into the chilly veil of the forest’s shade, her hoofbeats steadily receding into the dim interior.
“Be safe,” Twilight breathed. Applejack was no where to be seen, and the staccato of her hooves had drowned under the rapid beating of Twilight’s heart. She turned to look back once more, before closing her eyes and feeling her horn flare with magic - leaving her standing in the familiar confines of her library.
Already, ponies could be heard assembling outside.
* * *
Sweetie Belle could hear something in the woods. It was coming closer. She dared not to move, laying under the gnarled tangle of tree roots washed clean by a slow moving creek. The cold mud of the bank felt oppressively close to her skin, and all manner of bugs were blindly leaping from the base of the tree to explore her quietly heaving chest.
The footsteps were coming closer. A slow rhythmic pace that echoed through the ground. Each footfall carrying the weight of a boulder, each step in perfect cadence. She dared not to turn and look. Once was enough. Her eyes were tightly shut, but she could only see the interloper. Standing taller than any pony, shiny like polished metal, with the head that looked vaguely like a dragon’s skull. Two legs, maybe. Two heavy blunt claws on arms that folded out from it’s midsection. And the eyes. It was hard to tell where the eyes stopped and the head began. So many of them.
The footsteps grew louder and more distinct, coming closer. Each step sending a subtle tremor through the mud bank that Sweetie Belle lay firmly against.
The footsteps stopped.
* * *
Everfree Forest was not well travelled by the ponies of Equestria. Least of all by Applejack. Her purposeful strides had slowed to a trembling walk, her only sense of direction reduced to the beeline path she took on the way in. Her trail of hoofprints melted away in the wet grass and waterlogged soil, leaving almost no trace of her passage. Just as the forest would leave no trace of brave little Applejack if she lost her way.
She shuddered at the thought of becoming no more than a lush patch of well fertilized grass. Or perhaps the mossy remains of a vaguely pony-shaped statue, should she cross paths with a cockatrice. The forest was not friendly to ponies. One hundred ways in, but only one way out. She shivered as she pressed forward, threading through the bushes that grew up to meet the hanging branches of the trees. In the stillness of the forest, the rustling of the branches and briers against her coat felt like an ever present cacophony in her ears, drowning out the din of voracious insects, and the predatory footsteps of the forest’s true denizens.
One hundred ways in, one way out.
But she was brave, even when she wasn’t. She never let her feelings show in front of her little sister. Even when the two were younger, trapped for a whole night in the old barn at the end of the orchard, listening to the curious footsteps of a winged basilisk pecking at the door.
“Don’t you fret now Applebloom. Your big sis ain’t afraid of nothin”. She had cooed to the young filly to keep her calm and quiet. Even as the door rattled and the wood began to faintly smoke from the basilisk’s caustic breath, the two ponies had stood firmly together without so much as a single noise that would pique the interest of the slithering abomination.
"Ain't afraid of nothin,” Applejack repeated to herself. “Ain’t afraid of nothin.”
She strode forth, ears perked and eyes wide. Her heart hammered rapidly inside her chest as every cautious sense inside her screamed to turn around and run until she could see daylight again. But she couldn't listen to that. Scoots and Sweetie depended on her.
Through the trees came a sudden shrill scream, cut short by a deep thud, and a high pitched crack that even the dense forest could scarcely conceal.
Applejack stood breathless for a moment, struck to her core by that terrified helpless cry; the sudden recognition of the young filly’s unmistakable voice shocking her body into action. Her nostrils flared, and her eyes focused into a baleful gaze. Trembling hooves turned to adrenaline pumped steel springs. She lowered her head as she turned to face the noise, whispering her mantra through clenched teeth as she charged through the brush with the force of an errant locomotive.
“Ain’t afraid of nothin!”
* * *
Scootaloo ambled quietly through the forest. The young pegasus felt very alone, even if she was not. Sweetie Belle had fallen behind in their short frantic dash, and Applebloom was long gone by then. She could barely remember why they were running in the first place, aside from that look on Applebloom’s face.
She sighed and stamped the ground. This was not turning out to be a good day, and it would probably only get worse once they got home. Hopefully nobody would find out about their trip into the forest today.
Scootaloo froze. In the bog and grass lay a near perfect circle of plump berries on small leafy shrubs. A gardener plant! She had seen one just like it in Zecora’s hut, as part of her exotic menagerie.
The gardener, as Zecora had instructed, was not to be trifled with. Its flat wooden leaves curled into the shape of a shallow basket, low to the ground where the splatter of rain would cover the bowl of leaves with dirt. In time, the dirt would collect seeds - some nourished by ducts in the gardener’s leaves, others culled by emissions of diluted acid. The gardener’s bowl would eventually grow a small thicket of fruit bearing plants. Their branches stunted by the gardener’s chemical secretions, but carrying unnaturally full and numerous fruits.
The fruit basket was just the tip of this horror.
The real bulk of the gardener was firmly buried several yards away. A thick vine lay just inches below the dirt, ripe with tension. The flat leaves at the terminus bore several hair-like spikes, waiting patiently for the touch and hot musky breath of a grazing animal. Triggering these two senses would prompt the thick woody leaves of the gardener’s bowl would twist and close abruptly, clamping down firmly around the neck of its prey. Then, the serpentine vine would suddenly coil around itself, tearing free from the soil and twisting the flower on the end around in a violent circle - hard enough to spin its victim like a ragdoll and wrench its head from its neck. Often leaving its prey paralyzed, yet still conscious.
The gardener could not completely envelope its prey, but this offered little reprieve. The sudden twisting squeezed the vine, pumping a concentrated jet of gastric fluids into the ears, eyes, throat, and lungs of the Gardener's new meal. The torrential release of searing caustic fluid would break down the fibrous bulk of the underground vine as well, pushing a slurry of plant fiber down the lungs and esophagus of the stricken animal, whereby growing into a branching root system that fed upon the partially digested flesh.
Zecora’s gardener was the size of a small saucer plate. This one was the size of a dinner table.
Scootaloo skirted around the small tuft of tasty fruits, having abruptly lost any trace of appetite.
It was nearly noon, but the forest concealed it neatly. Infrequent shafts of light broke through the leafy canopy, casting a glow through the blanket of haze. Scootaloo fluttered quickly through the red tinged air, casting furtive glances through the forest for her friends.
Her stubby juvenile wings were not strong enough to fly, but she still skipped across the ground in long shallow arcs. Dashing through a burbling creek into a small grassy opening, something caught her eye. The small field looked like an inviting place to rest - away from the hanging vines and twisted tree trunks that grew with wild abandon throughout Everfree forest. An oasis of warm sunshine. But the light revealed something odd; a sizeable clump of dark brown branches nestled beneath the vibrant greens, pinks, and yellows of a flowering hedge.
She set one hoof in the lush meadow, and froze - her wings beating madly to keep the rest of her airborne. Something moved in the bushes as she touched the ground. No, not moved. Tensed. The dark articulate shapes just under the hedgerow were locked rigidly in place, just as her limbs dared not to move.
The clump of wood lay between her and the hedge. She loosened her gaze from the hedge for only a moment, just to examine the oddly colored pile of bent sticks. The pile of sticks gazed back - two empty eyesockets and a jaw hanging open, as if still delivering it’s last mournful shriek. Bones bereft of any flesh, save for the ichor stains and ragged tissue that had been passed over.
Her other hooves never touched the ground. Scootaloo rebounded into the air, distancing herself from the macabre sight. She was nearly across the small field when her hooves touched down for a second time.
The hedge erupted behind her. Hundreds of hairy articulated legs stamping the ground rhythmically in swift pursuit. She ran, and did not dare look back.
* * *
Twilight’s hasty letter had barely disintegrated into the green magical aether that would carry it directly to the Princess when there was a knock at her door. She bolted past Spike and down the carved wooden stairs of her loft, flinging the door open with a bolt of magic from her horn. Rarity stood trembling - her eyes speaking what her lips could not.
“Rarity, did Pinkie tell you everything?”
A slight nod broke through her barely suppressed sobbing.
“She did, yes, and then she left. I could have strangled her for leaving like that, but surely it’s for the best that I let her work.” She motioned outside, where “Pinkie’s Army” had mobilized. Teams of ponies, still in afternoon attire, bolted towards Everfree forest as soon as they received their orders.
“Ohh..” Rarity’s head hung like a wilted rose. “I do hope we get to them in time. I know it hasn’t been long here, but I can’t imagine what they must be going through”.
“I think they’ll all be okay,” Twilight reassured her. “Applejack and Rainbow Dash made it into the forest before Pinkie got here. Besides, we’ve been through the forest before. It’s not the safest place in Equestria, but I know those girls are smart enough to stay out of danger."
Rarity allowed the trace of a smile to return.
“Oh, Twilight. Thank you. I know you have a positively uncanny knack about being right, even when we have doubts. They probably are quite all right.”
She thrust her head up, regaining some modicum of her usual composure.
“But I can’t help to think that all this commotion seems.. a bit unusual,” as she gestured out the window.
“It might just be an overreaction,” Twilight mused. “But you know what Princess Celestia would say. Better to be safe than sorry, and never to give a half-flank job when somepony could be in trouble.”
Rarity smiled at Twilight’s impish grin, giggling at the implication that the Goddess of the Sun might earnestly utter such a saucy remark. Her mirth was short lived however, as she leveled her eyes and let her concern show once again.
“Twilight. What did Applebloom see?”
“What?”
“What did she see in the forest? What if this is not an overreaction?”
“I.. I don’t know Rarity,” she said weakly. “I don’t think Applejack even knows.”
She sighed weakly, letting her gaze drop to the floor.
“I probably should go. Pinkie did say she wanted everypony to help search.”
Twilight placed a hoof over Rarity’s mane.
“I will go with you,” she said solemnly.
Before they could turn to the door, an immense crash was heard just outside the library, followed by the sound of many stampeding hooves and a shower of loose gravel. Twilight flung the door open, expecting to see somepony’s house laying sideways in the street. Instead, and perhaps more surprisingly, Princess Celestia’s royal coach was parked only yards away - its gleaming white elegance juxtaposed against the deep ruts that marked its violent landing. A compliment of four Royal Guard pegasi, golden armor reflecting brightly through the cloud of dust, stood ready to loft the carriage back into the air.
“Oh my..” Twilight intoned, mouth agape. “Princess Celestia! I’m glad you could come! We’ve been worried..”
A Lieutenant of Canterlot Palace leaped from the carriage, and shouted in their direction.
“Miss Sparkle! Your presence has been urgently requested. Miss Rarity, I understand that you may wish to join us as well.”
The brief statement spoke volumes.
Twilight and Rarity hurried to enter the carriage. Two empty seats awaited them.
“Where is Princess Celestia,” Twilight inquired.
The Lieutenant simply gestured skyward. A wide “V” shaped procession streaked overhead, with the fierce glow of the Sun Goddess at its crux. Her majestic wings beating the air with a force that left her Royal Guard escorts straining to endure the gruelling pace.
"Now this can’t be normal,” she whispered to Rarity, who nervously nodded in return.
Without further delay, the lieutenant ordered the carriage aloft, slamming the two ponies backward into the plush seating. The familiar landmarks of Ponyville raced away as they went airborne, careening towards Everfree forest.
* * *
The rustling of so many distinct legs had fallen quiet some time ago, but Scootaloo still pressed onwards at a breakneck speed. Bounding over obstacles, and weaving through the trees as quickly as her short wings could take her. She stopped eventually, more exhausted than relieved.
The forest was unnaturally quiet.
Wheezing hard as she fought to stem the burning sensations in her wings, she stepped slowly in a circle to take in her surroundings. More forest, just as expected. The ground dipped into a long shallow ravine; murky water lazily threaded through the trench as Equestria’s poorest excuse for a river. Nearby, a tall wizened tree nearly straddled the stream, leaving a flat thicket of roots jutting out above the soil which had long since eroded away.
Sweetie Belle!
She lay still beneath the thicket, one flank embedded in the cloying bog. Her vivid purple and pink mane lay streaked and dirty across her back. Eyes shut to the world.
Scootaloo tried to call out, but her voice choked within her. Tears welled in her eyes as she stamped the ground furiously, angry with herself for leaving her friend behind.
“No. No. No.. Oh Sweetie Belle,” she raised her head to look once again.
But Sweetie Belle’s eyes were open now. Shocked wide and staring directly at Scootaloo with no trace of joy or relief. Only the same terrified expression that Applebloom wore as she wordlessly tore past them earlier.
“Run,” she whispered.
But she could not. The young pegasus found herself enveloped by a shadow, abruptly cut off from the reassuring warmth of the Equestrian sun. Where there had been an open bog of wet leaves now stood a towering statue of blackened metal. It’s many eyes bearing down on the terrified young pony, silently peering as it stood motionless.
“RUN!” screamed Sweetie Belle, who had extricated herself from the riverbank, and rapidly closed the distance with the foreign creature. “RUN!” she cried as she planted her fore hooves in the soft ground, and spun to deliver a precise kick with all the force her hind legs could muster.
Scootaloo needed no further prodding. She leapt away in the confusion, pounding her hooves into the ancient forest floor as a sharp ear-splitting bang echoed from behind her. The interloper erupted with a gutteral scream, breaking into a rapid fire procession of unintelligible barking. The ground vibrated as the metal giant shifted its ponderous weight, moving much more quickly than before. But the two ponies were already speeding away in opposite directions.
Further down the river, another tree had nearly succumbed to the inexorable erosion. It slanted halfway between the vertical and horizontal, propped up only by the strained branch of a neighboring tree.
Scootaloo darted towards it, pushing her wings to the limits as she galloped straight up the dying trunk. Chunks of bark were sent flying by the force of her hooves. When the tree ended, she did not stop. Her wings beat frantically, despite never having flown successfully before. It seemed like a good time to start. But just as her arboreal assisted jump sent her arcing over the forest canopy, she felt the rush of wind and gravity reclaiming her struggling body. The sunlight disappeared as she crashed through thick leaves and thin branches, careening straight back towards the dark carpet of the forest floor.
* * *
The skies of Equestria had become remarkably crowded in a few short minutes. Flights of palace guards and pegasi citizens swept over the leafy carpet of treetops, furtively watching for any signs of life. The Sun Goddess Celestia was no exception, tirelessly pumping her wings for altitude, then gliding in long winding “S” patterns just above the tree tops.
Suddenly there was a burst of light, coalescing into a rainbow hue jet stream behind one light-blue pony, her wild multicolored mane flapping vigorously as she ploughed through the humid air. Her swift dive into the forest caught the collective attention of the other pegasi, who hurried to veer towards her.
She returned from the forest moments later, wings beating skyward as she clutched another young brown pegasus tightly with her legs.
* * *
The ground raced to meet Scootaloo. Her eyes squeezed shut as she prepared for impact, but rather than a cold hard thud she suddenly felt herself grasped tightly and pulled through a stomach-lurching arc - the firm unforgiving ground rushing away just inches behind her.
Her eyes opened, cautiously at first, but then wide with relief to see nothing but a swatch of light blue hair.
“Dash! You made it!” shouted Scootaloo.
Rainbow Dash turned her head to look at the young pony cradled tightly between her hooves, before letting her gaze drift back to the forest below. Her usual boisterous demeanor had melted into surprise and terror.
“Dash?”
“WHAT WAS THAT!” screamed Rainbow Dash. “What was THAT!”
“The metal monster?”
“No, no no! Something else! We have to go back.”
“What!”
“It got Sweetie Belle!”
Scootaloo barely felt the words register before she was flipped upside down again, clutched tightly through a sharp turn. They dove once again toward the maw of the forest. It was just then that something unusual caught their eyes - a trail of smoke that sped over the horizon, whistling distinctly as it crossed their path, and angled down sharply beneath the forest canopy.
A crack of thunder and a gout of flame erupted from the forest floor. Dash and the other pegasi reared away in panic as fire and debris shot upwards into their path.
“Dash! What about Sweetie Belle!” cried Scootaloo as soon as she regained her breath. “What happened to her?”
A stream of tears was her only response.
* * *
Sweetie Belle’s back hooves delivered a violent jolt against the towering legs of the metal giant. Still completely terrified, but sporting a grin from ear to ear, she listened to the interloper’s outburst of foreign profanity growing steadily quieter behind her.
There was a soft rustling in the bushes nearby.
There was an intense and terrible sensation in Sweetie Belle’s flank.
She spun wildly from the impact on her rear quarter, sending her flailing into the slick bog. Her rear legs had gone completely numb - with that cold anesthetic feeling slowly creeping along her spine as well. She was facing backwards now, forelegs fighting for purchase to prop her head up from the dirt and decay.
The metal giant was moving with an alarming swiftness. It’s tree-trunk sized legs stamping angrily as it bore down on Sweetie Belle. But something else was holding her attention, something much closer.
In the annals and encyclopedias and bestiaries of the kingdom of Equestria, there were a great many plants, animals, and magical apparitions that had been studied, catalogued, or at least vaguely mentioned in the findings of exploratory journals. On the other hoof, there were a variety of creatures that were not, or would not ever find their way into the written record. The elusive nature of these creatures could generally be explained on their innate and well honed ability to camouflage themselves from prying eyes, thrive in climates or regions that were rarely travelled by the ponies of Equestria, or simply and viciously devour anything that approached.
That which stood before Sweetie Belle was firmly in the third category. Long hairy spider-like legs bunched into hundreds of brown bristling segments; the juncture where the arachnid characteristics clashed neatly with “giant carnivorous centipede”. If only it were that simple to describe. The head of the creature bore no resemblance to any known insect. Where one might expect to find eyes or a mouth, there was simply a mass of tendrils; eel-like protrusions with gibbering tooth rimmed mouths that thrashed blindly, bearing the force to knock down smaller prey.
The fangs bore a venom as well. A paralytic agent. Not one powerful enough to completely silence the prey, but just enough to leave it thrashing the ground with one or two remaining appendages in a desperate bid for survival.
The panic-stricken flailing of the young unicorn's matted muddy limbs sent vibrations through the ground that could be sensed through the spiderpede's many articulated feet. A sense that held a particular meaning for the creature. Lunch time. Albeit an extended lunch, since the dozens of tiny mouths could only consume flesh and bodily fluids in small measured chunks.
The numbness helped with cooperation.
As the paralysis crept past her forelegs, and the tears in her eyes blotted out the nightmare world before her, she began to scream. She screamed as the spiderpede darted towards her supine form, as the otherworldly metal monster ran towards her, and even as a flash of rainbow hued blur heralded Scootaloo’s rescue. Her face sank into the mud briefly, as she struggled to roll her uncooperative body to the side. Brackish water stung her eyes as she forced them open to witness their last sights.
The spiderpede was held aloft, grasped in four separate places by the metal monster. Clumps of legs were torn free as the mechanical arms efficiently punctured and dismembered. Still it fought back, the poison tipped tendrils beating uselessly into the head and neck of the interloper. With a grunt, the metal monster spun and threw the spiderpede to the ground, where it lay writhing. Then it pointed, making a series of odd, but distinct gestures.
And then, it ran. It scooped up the screaming Sweetie Belle and held her close to its blackened steel armor, running with long purposeful strides. Moments later, there was a great and terrible explosion. Flames, debris, and the innards of carnivorous pony-eating insect flew in haphazard arcs past the interloper and Sweetie Belle’s field of vision.
The forest flew by at a dizzying pace, suggesting a far more jarring ride than the gentle support from the steel gauntlets. It was hard to tell if the interloper was exhibiting real concern, or if it was just the dream-like effects of near total paralysis.
Either way, she hoped before slipping unconscious, that it didn’t hold a grudge.
* * *
“Did you see that!” Twilight screamed over the whistling wind.
Rarity peered over the edge, her face bereft of any visible emotion. Slowly she closed her quivering eyelids, and turned to face rear of the carriage. Twilight averted her attention from the chaos below to hold her friend; gently shuddering as she softly wept.
There was a sudden commotion from the front of the carriage, as the Lieutenant scrambled to one side.
“INCOMING,” he shouted as the carriage rocked with a sudden thump. Twilight and Rarity twisted around in the increasingly cramped area, turning to see Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo, breathlessly sprawled across the seat.
The glances they exchanged conferred a distinct absence of good news.
“Have you seen Sweetie Belle?” Rarity asked through a facade of hope. “What happened to her?”
Rainbow Dash began to shake her head, but hesitated.
“I.. don’t know,” she breathed. “I don’t even know what I saw down there, it was so fast”
She still held Scootaloo tightly to her chest, almost afraid to let go.
“What did you see Dash? What caused that fire -”
“INCOMING,” the lieutenant loudly interrupted again. The carriage rocked a second time as the remaining space was taken by the gleaming majestic flank of Princess Celestia - straddling the side rail with two legs hooked in the car, and two dangling in the air. One wing folded tightly, and the other extended in the airstream to keep her aloft.
“Girls, I am glad to see you safe! But I must not delay.” She turned to Twilight. “I must commend your judgement for bringing this to my immediate attention. I know you had very little to go by, but there are no shortage of surprises in Equestria, and it never hurts to stay one hoof ahead of them. You have my thanks.”
She turned, a somber expression creeping over her regal disposition.
“Lieutenant, stay aloft until given the signal to land. Otherwise, if you see anything else out of the ordinary, return immediately to Canterlot. I charge you with their safety.”
“Understood, your majesty.”
“Rarity. Know this. Your sister is in my care.” She leaned close to Rarity, their horns touching for a brief moment as she whispered to her.
A tangible sense of calm washed over her, as she quietly nodded back to the Princess.
“Rainbow Dash. Your brave actions have made a difference today. The depth of my gratitude can not hope to match what you are truly owed.”
Dash tried to protest, shaking her head weakly.
“I couldn’t get to her in time. Something carried her away into the forest.”
“But there is still hope, is there not? Hold onto that thought like a candle in the darkness, and let it guide you.”
Rainbow Dash simply nodded.
“I will.”
“Now I must go. Be strong, my little ponies.”
And with that, the Princess Celestia kicked off from the burdened carriage, spreading her wings and diving into the jet stream. They watched as she swooped down into the fray.
“But.. where is she going?” asked Scootaloo.
They looked. Dozens of pegasi, citizen and soldier alike, had begun to descend through the cloud of smoke wafting up from Everfree forest. The first wave of Pinkie Pie’s search party were not far behind. But the Princess had turned to seek a different objective. She followed the smoke trail that still hung over the forest, before diving through the leafy canopy, out of sight.
* * *
Sweetie Belle laid nearly still on a silver blanket, breathing softly through fitful sleep. The punctures on her flank had been painstakingly cleaned, and bandaged with sterile cloth. A portable electric blanket rose and fell with the movement of her ribs.
The interloper remained still, holding vigil over its comatose patient. Nearby, a metal case lay open - nearly buried in the clutter of tiny wrapped packages and stainless steel implements.
A solid thump in the ground announced a new presence behind the interloper. The measured and uniform stomp of four hooves conveyed a very clear demand for attention.
A crown of eyes spun around to face the newcomer, even as the interloper kneeled motionless in front of the makeshift triage area. Slowly and deliberately, it began to stand, shifting it’s body to show the young Sweetie Belle laying safely in front of it. It’s careful and practiced movements bespoke considerable experience in this sort of situation. A seasoned veteran of awkward encounters at gunpoint. Finally it stood, rocking back and forth with small steps as it turned to face its visitor.
A big glowing unicorn with wings. The interloper shrugged plaintively, before slowly holding one hand in the air and uttering a deep electronically tinged greeting.
For Princess Celestia, this sounded virtually indistinguishable from a stagecoach sliding sideways over a gravel strewn cliff, and violently immersing itself in the bottom of a lake - except backwards and softer.
* * *
Applejack continued her trek through the forest, meandering through unmarked trails. Her burst of vigor had since faded, as with her sense of direction. Still she pressed on, even as her creeping doubt began to manifest as a bear trap snapped tightly in the back of her mind.
She was lost. No other way around it.
Her head hung low, she steadfastly continued - refusing to succumb to the choking sobs that swelled in her throat.
As she pushed past yet another low hedge, bespackled with tiny pink and yellow flowers, she came across something odd. A perfectly circular patch of berries and fruits, hanging delectably from short stunted branches.
“Well,” she said, putting aside her thoughts of Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo for a moment, “Ah never seen anything quite like that before, but I know them’s good eatin.”
A full stomach never hurt anybody.
* * *
Over the blanket where Sweetie Belle lay, the two giants among ponies faced off. The luminous alicorn, magestic in her splendor and graceful in poise, stared fervently across the space between them; eyes narrowed to angry slits and jaw set with fierce determination. Flank muscles tensed to lunge forward at the slightest provocation as she leveled her gleaming white horn at the interloper.
The visitor firmly held ground. Its suit of armor bore a very simple and utilitarian purpose; to inspire shock and terror in those unfortunate to face it, and swiftly follow through with brutish mayhem. Such a suit would find itself only mildly impeded as it smashed its way through flesh and bone, or hardened steel bulkheads. But despite the nightmarish appearance, it tried its best to appear friendly.
A rumble of countless hooves could be heard, encircling the standoff. A sea of hushed gasps and quiet shouting. No pony approached, even as the encroaching circle swelled with their numbers.
They stood this way for minutes, neither flinching from their mutual gaze. Their eyes locked unwaveringly, even through the sudden commotion, screaming, and frantic galloping of ponies clearing a path for one errant pegasi drawn royal carriage. It struck the ground hard, wheels fracturing in segments over the uneven terrain. In a panic, the Lieutenant hammered the release for the harness, allowing the draft pegasi to fly upwards out of the path of the impromptu missile. The remains of Princess Celestia’s royal chariot bounced and slid through the soft grass, wooden debris flanking the uneven furrow it carved.
The carriage skidded to a halt, settling just inches away from the dead broken limbs jutting away like a ring of spikes from the trunk of one particularly deformed tree. Despite the renewed and deep seated fear of Everfree forest held by the occupants of the carriage, they unanimously reached a wordless decision that it couldn’t be any worse than spending another minute in the wreckage, as they dove out in all directions.
With great and deliberate caution, the interloper perceptibly gestured with one steel gauntlet in the direction of the carriage, as if to say ‘Hey, did you see that?’.
She didn’t.
Sweetie Belle stirred gently, roused by the cacophony of vehicular carnage, and the screaming that accompanied it. Her eyelids fluttered open further at the shrill cry of her older sister.
Rarity had galloped straight away towards the trio, only stopping short of entering their mutual space. She looked at Sweetie Belle, anguished at the sight of her wounds, but buoyed by the monumental relief that she still lived. Flush with conflicting emotion, she settled back on her hindquarters, staring up with nervous trepidation at the formidable metal giant before her.
It looked back. With a soft hiss of hydraulics and artificial muscle, it slowly descended, placing one knee next to Sweetie Belle. Under the alicorn’s watchful eye, the interloper’s steel gauntlets gently slid under the young filly’s flank; lifting her up and into Rarity’s embrace.
Sweetie Belle broke the collective silence, whispering softly enough to be heard across the entire forest clearing.
“Is that you, sis?”
“Yes,” Rarity spoke, as she struggled to regain her voice. “I’m here now.”
Scootaloo and Rainbow Dash nearly bowled the two over as they joined to hug Sweetie Belle, followed closely by Applebloom - who threaded her way through the crowd and ran across the clearing faster than her older brother could give chase.
Not another word was spoken for some time, until Applebloom piped up curiously.
Applebloom weaved through the crowd, oblivious to the angry bellowing from Big Mac. The wall of ponies were pressed nearly flank to flank, but she squeezed through where she could, and crawled where she couldn’t.
She heard a pony shouting above and behind her. Applebloom turned briefly to see what was causing the commotion.
This was easily the second most horrifying thing she’d seen all day. Princess Celestia’s chariot, lacquered a brilliant white and trimmed with gold, was barrelling in just above the crowd. The four pegasi of the draft team held their wings folded tight against their bodies as they plowed through branch and bough of the forest. A brown and white pony in royal livery reared upright on two legs at the head of the carriage, screaming orders as the whole ensemble glided toward her like a well thrown brick.
“Make a hole! MAKE A HOLE!” the Lieutenant shouted.
The ponies moved. Not necessarily in the same direction at the same time, but it was a good start that strongly implied they were quite serious at not becoming Equestria’s first case of roadkill. Few however were afforded the luxury of an expedient extrication, and the entire swath of them simply threw themselves to the ground and hoped for the best.
The carriage roared overhead, narrowly missing a set of trees as it burst through the clearing. The pegasi pumped their wings furiously, pulling the carriage out of it’s dive before they were cut loose at the last moment. The unencumbered draft team rocketed skyward as the wheels met the forest floor with a heavy crack, sending spokes and wooden bands flying.
Applebloom clambered over the many ranks of awestruck ponies, exploiting the momentary confusion and chaos to reach the clearing. But then she stopped abruptly.
The metal monster was there.
* * *
In the center of the clearing, the metal giant kneeled before the focused gaze of Princess Celestia. It gingerly lifted Sweetie Belle from the ground, before passing her semi-conscious form to Rarity, who accepted her without fear or hesitation.
Sweetie Belle stirred against Rarity, whispering into her chest as her older sister answered through tears of joy.
Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo raced across the field. But just before they arrived, the interloper shot to its feet suddenly, in a state of panic. Those closest to it, even Princess Celestia, involuntarily reared up on hind legs. Tranquility giving way to fight or flight.
The interloper deftly turned on one foot, judging a path through the forest against it’s internal bearings. Celestia and her guard prepared to engage again, but it was already running.
There was a high pitched whine, and a loud *whump* as twin pillars of flame erupted from the interloper’s back. It bolted into the air with alarming speed, crashing forcefully through the thick foilage.
Celestia and her guards were already in pursuit, leaving Rarity and Sweetie Belle huddled together in the clearing. Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo zipped next to them, staring in awe at the sudden turn of events.
“Did you see that!” they shouted simultaneously.
Applebloom finally made her way to the middle, gasping for air from her labored journey.
No pony spoke for some time, until Applebloom finally caught her breath.
“Where’s Applejack?”
* * *
Applejack nibbled cautiously on the swollen berries. The sweet nectar soothed her lips and slid easily down her throat. There was a lingering sense in the back of her mind that these could be poisonous, but just a few shouldn’t give her more than a belly ache.
Besides, they were delicious!
It was around this time that she heard something odd. She looked up, and immediately recoiled backwards - tripping over her own legs and landing upright on her bottom.
The one half ton bundle of articulated armor landed heavily before her, two enormous metal boots embedded in the grass, and one claw-shaped steel gauntlet buried deep into the small circle of fruits and berries.
The wooden leaves of the gardener’s flower snapped shut over the interloper’s arm. The metal giant wrestled with it momentarily, before grasping the supple vine and ripping it from the dirt. Still it twisted and pulled, coiling hard enough to force the metal giant into a struggle for balance.
The interloper aimed a stubby metallic tube at the base of the vine. There was a brilliant flash and a thunderous retort, as the vine disintegrated into glowing embers. Flaming bits of peat moss showered the general vicinity.
Applejack continued to stare, all instincts set aside as she grappled with what she saw.
The metal monster still struggled to extract it’s arm from the vise-like grip of the gardener’s flower, bashing the fibrous wooden leaves repeatedly with it’s other hand. It held firm though, seemingly determined to crush the contents of its vicious maw.
That could have been her trapped in there.
Finally the husk of the decapitated carnivorous plant landed with a soft thud, and the interloper turned to face Applejack.
A million thoughts raced through her mind. Was this stranger friendly? Were Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle okay? Why did it come here when it did? What in the name of Celestia’s green pastures was that explosion?
What happened next was quite positively the last thing she would have ever expected. It picked her up easily, cradled in metal claws designed to tear holes in starships, and gave her a long heartfelt hug.
Her mind raced, but the gear was in neutral. Just over the giant’s shoulder, she caught sight of Princess Celestia - her jaw literally hanging in surprise.
There were very few times when “I can explain everything!” just simply could not. In the grand collection of history, throughout all such moments of epic awkwardness, this qualified as ‘Exhibit A’.
“Aw, what the hell,” she thought to herself as she hugged the metal monstrosity back.
* * *
“Can I have everypony’s attention please! Yes, I’m up here. All of you, please settle down for a moment!” The Lieutenant shouted from atop the wrecked carriage, stamping his hooves with impatience.
“Hi!” exclaimed Pinkie Pie, as she bounced up to the carriage. “Whatcha doing?”
“Trying to put things back in order here.. oh hey! HEY! You there! Stop what you’re doing and come back please! No wait. Go and tell those other ponies who just ran off into the woods to come back at once. The Princess is taking care of.. whatever we just saw take place. Tell them to come back immediately. We’re here for the fillies, who are now accounted for! We’re done with that, and now we need to.. OH! Catch hoof fungus you manure for brains goatmilk sucking salt licker! Anyways, pardon me about that, what did you say your name was?”
“I’m Pinkie Pie!” came the turbocharged saccharine response.
The Lieutenant sighed.
“That’s wonderful. Suppose you could tell me who in Celestia’s green pastures managed to round up the entire population of Ponyville and sent them into the middle of the forest here?”
“That would be me, silly! I know every pony in Ponyville, and I brought them all with me!” The cotton candy colored pony smiled like a shark in a swimming pool.
“Oh what.. you can’t be serious. You are serious. Gah.. Why on Equestria did you..”
“It’s a Search PARTY!”
The day of the Lieutenant’s inevitable debilitating brain aneurysm seemed that much closer.
“Auughh..” The Lieutenant rubbed his temple with one well polished hoof. “I don’t suppose it’s occurred to you that this is the Everfree Forest, and there are an awful lot of ponies who probably shouldn’t be out here. And if they start wandering off and getting lost, we’re going to have a real crisis on our hands. We need to focus on getting everypony back safely, rather than just standing around bumping flanks - er, pardon my language miss.”
“Well I can help!” she giggled with disconcerting confidence.
Without waiting for a response, she zipped into the milling throng of ponies. To the Lieutenant, she looked less like a pony, and more like a bouncing pink bulldog, as she swiftly herded the loose circle into a neat and terrified grid.
“Theeeey’re all yours!” She squealed, as she reared up on her hind legs and snapped off a salute that would bring a tear to a Drill Stallion’s scornful eye.
“Right then. First off, on behalf of Her Majesty Princess Celestia, and the Royal Guard of Canterlot, you have our thanks for coming here today. Bravely coming here, I might add. Great! Now that’s out of the way, I would like to remind everypony that we are in the middle of the forest, and the sun is going down soon! Now I know that not many of you are a part of Her Majesties forces, but I would ask that you follow my lead, and hopefully we can get everyone back to Ponyville in an orderly fashion.”
“Why should we take orders from you!” came a voice from the crowd.
There was a bright and terrible flash of pink.
There was a quiet whimpering from the heckler in the crowd.
“Theeey’re all yours!” Pinkie shouted.
* * *
“Applejack, my little pony. Are you okay?”
“Yes ma'am, I mean, Princess. I sure am glad to see you here.” She paused to look over her shoulder at the interloper. “Mighty glad the big fella was here too.”
Celestia overturned the gardener’s flower with her hoof, shuddering slightly.
“I would say so. Very fortunate,” she trailed off.
“Princess, pardon for interrupting, but have you seen Scootaloo or Sweetie Belle? I’ve been awfully worried.”
Celestia leaned forward, face to face with the cornsilk hue pony.
“They are both safe and well. And I believe we have our guest to thank for that.” She smiled warmly. “But know well that we all are indebted to you, my dear Applejack. Your bravery and determination has made a profound difference in the course of this day.”
Applejack nearly collapsed with relief.
The alicorn reared her head back gracefully, drawing up with magnificent regal splendor. She turned to face the interloper one more time, bowing her head with all sincerity.
The interloper raised it’s iron gauntlet again, waggling it around from side to side, and emitting a rumbling salutation that sounded not unlike a sick dragon gargling with a barrel of rainwater.
In the complete and exhaustive annals of awkwardness, this was ‘Exhibit B’.
After a few moments, the metal giant tried a different approach. It swung one of it’s smaller arms forward, fingers splayed ever so slightly with the palm facing up. Celestia eyed the strange pose, and attempted to mimic the otherworldly greeting; her hoof pressed softly into the mechanical gauntlet.
They shook.
* * *
“All right, is everybody clear? Task element Barley, your job is to proceed back to Ponyville, leaving two-pony teams at 50 yard intervals. You will be relieved by task element Oatmeal, as they pass through. Stay tight with your groups, and leave no pony behind”
The Lieutenant sighed with a small measure of relief. Not only for the satisfaction of an orderly procession, but the sudden stroke of brilliance in asking that shrill pink maniac to take a complete headcount.
“Now, Thank you again, everypony, for your cooperation. Task element Hayseed, are you prepared to embark?”
“Eeeyup,” affirmed Big Macintosh, towing a makeshift sled with Sweetie Belle comfortably strapped in.
“Excellent. Now If there are any volunteers, I’d like to see if we can do something about this,” he tapped his hoof on the stricken carriage. “It shouldn’t be too hard to strip down and carry back to Ponyville.”
The carriage already bore a conspicuously absent space where a Sweetie Belle sized plank used to be.
“Any volunteers at all? Love to get this thing home and slap on a little bit of glue and polish. It’ll be just like new, and no pony will ever know the difference.”
“Know what?” intoned a familiar voice.
The Lieutenant spun abruptly, losing his footing and tumbling from the roof of the carriage. He rebounded up from the pony-sized depression in the mud and came to attention. Years of well hardened discipline suppressing his sudden urge to brush away the wet leaves plastered to the side of his face.
“Your Majesty..” he stated, deftly concealing his sudden lack of anything to say as a declarative salutation.
Celestia peered across the clearing - the organized chaos of ponies marching home in staggered intervals, and the entourage surrounding Big Mac as he pulled Sweetie Belle on a gleaming white lacquered plank.
She looked at the carriage, and back to the Lieutenant.
“Permission to speak freely, your Majesty?”
“Go ahead.”
“I’m sure that will buff out.”
Many thousands of years of experience bearing the crown of Equestria came to bear in suppressing a very un-princess-like braying laugh. But only just.
“It’s perfectly all right, Lieutenant..”
“Lancaster, ma’am. Laurence Lancaster.”
“Ah. I apologize if we did not have the time to meet properly this morning. And I feel that our time here may be short as well. But I must stay to commend your quick thinking and superb organization.”
“I did have some.. help, your Majesty.” He let his eyes flick to the sides, nervously twitching at the thought of leering pink visage appearing from nowhere.
Celestia giggled softly. “I think I know exactly who you mean.”
“She has some natural.. talents, I have to admit. I have her performing a headcount to make sure there’s - “
“All done!”
If there was a terrible and abrupt end of the world, this was exactly how Lancaster had dreadfully imagined it; his vision filled with the bright eyes and wide smiling teeth of the gleeful rending of existence.
“Pinkie Pie, my resourceful little filly. Is everypony accounted for?” Celestia mused, already certain of the answer.
“Of course, silly!”
The Lieutenant’s fateful destiny with a brain aneurysm crept several years closer.
“I’ve got them aaaall right here!” She tapped a hoof against her head with a force that would leave larger animals in a six month coma.
“Well done my little pony,” she said with a trace of astonishment, glancing up at the sea of near-indistinguisable ponies, and back down to Pinkie - who’s attention had suddenly gone cross-eyed on a lavender butterfly, her lips whispering softly as she attempted to discern the secret language of it’s ancient and storied fluttery race.
“Lieutenant Lancaster, I have yet another assignment for you to partake in your service to the crown. If you would please, and with haste, inform Miss Twilight Sparkle that I urgently request her presence again. Please escort her back to the clearing, and I shall return shortly. Secondly, I will ask that you secure lodging in Ponyville for a brief but indefinite duration, as soon as you have finished seeing everypony out of the forest.”
The Lieutenant nodded sharply.
“One more thing. Please inform Twilight and her companions that their friend Applejack is safe, and will join them later this evening.”
“Understood Ma’am. But if I might say one thing, you can just call me Laurie instead of that other mouthfull.”
“I see. Then I shall call you Captain Laurie from now on.”
His lungs took a sharp intake of breath, though it felt as if the exact opposite had happened.
“You are dismissed, Captain.”
Laurie saluted, unwittingly adding another layer of mud and detrius to his proud bespackled face.
Celestia turned to depart, leaving the two next to the carriage.
“Yaaay! A promotion!” Pinkie cartwheeled around Laurie.
His eyes bore twin hollow pupils, a thousand yard stare that silently screamed for sweet release from this nightmare. Explosions rocked around him, sending his heart racing - the streaming confetti and showers of glitter from Pinkie’s emergency party rations. He turned briskly, and ran after task element Hayseed - where Twilight and the others formed a loose entourage around Sweetie Belle.
“Oh hey, did she say you’re going to be living in Ponyville! That’s great! I know just the place where you can stay too, it’s right next to Sugarcube Corner! I know we can be the best of friends! FOREVER!”
Captain Laurie broke into a sprint.
* * *
Applejack waited patiently, examining the odd plastic netting draped over the squat hulking structure behind it. She backed up and walked forward several times, amazed at how the facade of artificial leaves and mismatched colors blended seamlessly with the forest. Even the Royal Guards couldn’t help reaching through the fake foilage to gently tap the drab boxy metal craft.
“Is it still inside there?” Celestia asked, gliding silently behind Applejack.
The Royal Guard ponies of Canterlot abruptly snapped back to their posts.
“Yes Princess,” Applejack responded with a husky sigh. “Not sure what for, but I reckon it’s not polite to rush things.”
“Oh, I agree.”
They sat for a moment, before Applejack changed the subject.
“Never knew something that big n scary could be all affectionate like that,” she said with a chuckle, concealing a hint of blush. “Almost like it hadn’t seen me in a while.. which would be kinda silly, since neither of us ain’t met before.”
“I agree. It certainly was an interesting reaction.”
‘Interesting’ did not begin to describe the depth of what Celestia opted not to say.
From behind the netting came the sound of footsteps - much softer than before. There was a hiss of hydraulics and lubricated metal as the ramp lifted and sealed against the belly of the craft.
What stepped out was much smaller, but only slightly shorter than before. Eyes nearly level with Princess Celestia. An upright frame lacking the bulging haunches and chests of Equestria’s inhabitants. It raised one hand, pink fleshy fingers splayed flat in the evening air.
It opened it’s mouth. What came out sounded like a short singing note, combined with the winning entry in last year’s Apple Family annual “pie-eatin, cider-drinkin, belch-athon” contest.
* * *
“Miss Sparkle! Miss Sparkle, yes, sorry, thank you all for stopping. Miss Sparkle, I have instructions to escort you back to the Princess.”
“Oookay. It’s just Twilight by the way.”
“And I’m Laurie. Sorry we haven’t had a chance for proper introductions. Ah, Captain Laurie actually. No wait. I’d have to check the regs on how fast a field promotion from the Princess is supposed to take affect. Oooh, no wait - I need to check when my new pay grade takes affect first, oh god I hate the paperwork that comes out of that office. Augh! Anyways, sorry about that. Oh, good news! I’m happy to let you know that your friend Aa.. Actionjack.. Applesauce.. oh gods.. “
“Applejack?”
“Yes! That’s the one. I have some important news about her! She’s ahh.. good. She’s doing good. Don’t ask me anything else because that is everything I know at the moment.”
“Wow, you are good,” Rainbow Dash said with a snicker.
“Anyways, glad to see everything is proceeding smoothly. Miss Twilight, when you’re ready.. Oh hold on, Hey! HEY! You there! Get away from that! Those things are unbelievably dangerous, I don’t care how hungry you.. HEY! You dragon teat sucking, dung-wallowing, flank-on-both-ends, miserable excuse for a quadruped; back away from that thing, NOW!” Laurie stopped to catch his breath. “Now all of you, get back in line, and don’t go anywhere near those berry patches again! I will make you march single file all the way to Ponyville if you can’t keep your oat-stuffed noses out of trouble!”
The crowd looked back at the raving mud and leaf plastered pony. Pinkie was there next to him, bouncing back and forth between her fore and hind legs, chirping a constant stream of “Can I help, Ooh, can I help! I love to help!”
They zipped into line, marching away in lockstep terror as fast as they could manage.
“Ahh, sorry about that. Anyways, Miss Twilight, when you’re ready -”
“What’s a..”
“APPLEBLOOM!” shouted Big Macintosh, staring sternly at his younger sister.
“That’s when you..”
“PINKIE!” shouted the other ponies, save for Rarity, who immediately blushed beet red and threw her forelegs into a makeshift muzzle around Pinkie Pie.
Captain “or is it Lieutenant?” Laurie shot Twilight a glance that spoke “Let’s run and never look back”.
Day broke over the lush rolling hills of Ponyville. Radiant beams peered in through windows and slowly crept over the face of one brown and white pony.
Two eyelids stirred, gently opening to take in the light of dawn; ears perking to the chirping of birds and the growing bustle of the streets outside.
The refreshing tranquility caused the pony to bolt upright from bed, gasping for breath with panic stricken eyes, in the same manner that one might rouse themselves from the gruesome climax of a soul wrenching nightmare.
“I’m LATE!” Captain Laurie screamed within his head.
Slowly he adjusted to the sight of the unfamiliar room, easing himself back down into bed. “No, no. False alarm,” he thought. There was no need to scramble out of bed, or sneak into the morning formation before headcount was finished. He had a special assignment today, free from the clockwork rigors of Canterlot Palace.
He reached for the bucket of water on the bedside table, greedily pouring it into his mouth. The cool water soothed his raspy throat, painfully inflamed from the past night’s screaming expletive laden orders, expletive laden words of encouragement, and expletive laden thank-you speeches. He coughed and sputtered momentarily, sinking back into the sheets as the memories of last night began to assault his tenuous grasp on sanity. The ponies, the forest, the mud.. Oh god, the mud.
Some pony had managed to get a nasty bruise, complete with lacerations on his foreleg. It was really the only blemish on an otherwise successful operation. Laurie sighed with exasperation, shaking his hoof angrily at the ceiling of the cottage inn. A stick! A stick! If you want to pull the berries out of a gardener plant, you used a blasted stick! It was right there in the damned Royal Guardpony field manual. He shook his head, awash with rage. Flipping over, he buried his face in the plump goose feather pillow and bellowed a single drawn out curse.
Through the soft pillow came a muffled cry, which sounded vaguely like “civilians”.
He hopped out of the makeshift foxhole of rumpled blankets. A sense of urgency drove him to get started on his tasks for the day. As he surveyed the room, he was taken aback by how small it was, as if someone took a normal sized room, shoved in an extra set of bedding, and tacked a bolt of fabric down the middle to divide it in half.
Which would explain the bolt of fabric, tacked hastily down the middle of the wall and ceiling.
Laurie knew exactly what had to be done. He cleared the writing desk, and emptied his satchel into three distinct piles. One well abused copy of the Royal Guardpony field manual, several sheafs of loose paper, and a writing quill. He opened the book, diving straight into the appendix. From there, he painstakingly copied several pages, taking obsessive care with the margin spacing, the neatness of the lines, and the strings of numbers adorned across the top and bottom of each page.
He went over them again, hastily scrawling his name, hoof number, and terse wording in the spaces he provided. Several minutes of furious writing later, he sat back to admire a job well done. One copy of Form P-4211-004, ‘Combined Multi-Part Request for Basic Housing Allowance, Cost of Living Allowance, and Substandard Accommodation Comfort Allowance, and one copy of Form P-2300-4-23, Request for Advancement of Pay Grade Due to Unscheduled Field Promotion.
He mentally wrestled with the last form. A set of check boxes near the end remained blank, demanding a choice which he could not answer. Laurie spat the quill onto the desk, rubbing his temples with both hooves. Who actually witnessed the field promotion? If he could remember, it would be a simple matter of checking the first box, and writing the name of somepony that could vouch for the event.
He chuckled with a tinge of pride at the previous block, the Granting Authority. It read:
[ ] Unit Commanding Officer [ ] Surviving Unit Ranking Officer [ ] Sword-Wielding Magical Aquatic Apparition [x] Celestial Deity
That one was considerably easier.
With a sigh, he backed away from the desk. Curiously, he parted the curtains to peer outside at the bustling backwater town of Ponyville.
Directly across the street was a bakery. A pink hoof waved excitedly from the window.
Laurie fell to the floor, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. He crawled along his side against the base of the wall - all the while hearing the incessant shouting of his old Drill Stallions demanding that he go lower and faster. For a moment he stayed in the corner, curled in a fetal position, gently rocking back and forth.
He steeled himself for what came next. With a bolt of determination, he launched himself from the base of the wall and skidded to a stop in front of the writing desk. He grasped the quill quickly, suppressing his shaking hooves as he bent down to check “[x] Will submit additional form P-2442-84-2 ‘Waiver for Lack of Witness to Unscheduled Field Promotion’”.
* * *
“You look positively exhausted, sister,” Luna proffered a hoof to Celestia, helping her up from the pile of books strewn in a semi circle around the throw pillow. “You’re not planning to face the rest of the day like this are you?”
“I believe I can manage. The palace staff can handle today’s events without any hoof-holding. Just so long as we can reschedule any further crises until next week,” Celestia smiled weakly.
“I’m dying to know more about this visitor you mentioned. I caught sight of him briefly last night before they reached Ponyville. And I must say the Lieutenant down there was doing a remarkably entertaining job as well. A real way with words.” Luna smirked.
“That would be Captain Lancaster now, or Laurie, as he prefers to go by. He seems to be quite adept at handling crowds.”
“He can certainly speak their language.”
Celestia permitted herself to a loud snorting laugh. But just this once.
“I trust that he will be an excellent host to our new guest,” Luna continued. “Although I understand there’s something of a language barrier. Do we expect Captain Laurie to take on the role of linguist as well?”
Celestia tapped the pile of books and parchment at her hooves, and gestured at Twilight Sparkle, who had completely passed out in the middle of an open tome.
“We have something that may help with that. It did take us some time to research the elements of this spell, but it may help us to communicate.”
“While I understand your desire to bring your protege` in on this, were there not more experienced scholars of magic to help you develop this spell?”
“There were. I imagine they will be sleeping on your schedule for the next few days. But Twilight is who I trust to use the spell. It is not so simple to transliterate spoken word without an understanding of the meaning behind it. And that necessitates an ability to listen to the mind, rather than the tongue.”
Luna pondered this.
“Such a spell would allow one to read minds like a book.”
“I know what you are thinking. It would bear grave consequences if used improperly.” Celestia intoned. “Though pardon my figure of speech, I did not need the spell to discern your reaction.”
Luna looked back to Twilight. “And you trust her implicitly with this?”
“That is why she is my protege`”
“Mmm.. It will be interesting to see what she learns. Although our guest may grow tired of only having one pony to talk with.”
“That did not escape our attention. A variant of this spell may allow our guest to project the thoughts behind his, or her, words. Likewise, it can be used to delve into the meaning of our language as well.”
“Is that wise?”
“Do not fret sister, the spell has limitations. Our guest cannot read minds, and Twilight’s ability will only extend through the bond between her and the visitor. As for me, I shall take no part in this spell, for even the potential to do so would undermine the nature of my rule.”
“Does our guest possess the ability to harness magic? I can not see how this would work without it.”
“No, at least not that I can tell. But our research last night was not in vain. I have a plan to deal with that.”
“And what becomes of this?” Luna motioned towards the pile of books and hastily inked scrolls.
“Sealed away. Forever, I should hope. Much like their original author.“
“The Draconequus?”
Celestia nodded.
“Sister, could I ask of you a few small favors?”
“Anything, Celestia.”
“If you could send for our guest in a few hours, around Noon perhaps. And wake me before he arrives. Twilight as well.”
“Consider it done.”
“One more thing. Bring me a knife when you come for me. The sharpest you can find.”
Luna eyed her sister curiously. “I don’t suppose you have a plan for that too?”
“Yes, you’ll see.”
“Okay. Sleep well Princess.”
“That’s Boss Hoss to you, sister.”
Luna giggled as Celestia slumped over on her side.
“I’ll bet that was Applejack.”
“Eeeeeeyup!”
* * *
“Oh, good morning, Applejack.”
“Same’s to you, Fluttershy. What brings you around these parts?”
“Oh, I wanted to see what all the commotion was about last night. I was away tending to the frogs in the swamp behind my house when it happened. I was really surprised to come back and find Ponyville almost completely empty!”
“Sugarcube, I got enough tales from that night to tell all week.”
Fluttershy smiled, her thoughts partially elsewhere.
“Did you see that new pony?”
“Might wanna narrow it down a bit, sugar.”
“The one covered in mud and leaves.”
“Oooh, him. Some officer from Canterlot, I reckon. I was pulling up the rear of that wagon train, so I only spotted him a few times.”
“He had such a way with his words!”
Applejack winced, rubbing one tan hoof against her forehead.
“And the way he ran back and forth through that crowd. I’ve never seen anypony with such.. “ Fluttershy trailed off for a second, looking away suddenly, while tracing her hooves through the dirt.
“Any such what?”
“Um..” Fluttershy whispered. “Stamina.”
Applejack cocked one eye at her friend.
“I mean, well.. Do you think he’s nice?”
Applejack laughed nervously, trying to eject herself from the trainwreck of morbid embarrassment.
“Ohhh, no sugarcube. If I ever go cross eyed and head over hooves for somepony, I reckon he’d be more of the strong and silent type.” She smiled nervously herself, concealing a trace of blush.
The two friends went quiet, having reached a verbal detente` in mutually assured awkwardness.
“You know, I rarely see you this early. Are you all caught up with bucking apples for today?”
“Oh, no. Just came into town to fetch some supplies”
“Did you forget your saddlebags?”
Applejack looked back, feigning surprise.
“Aw shoot. Reckon I did. Need to add that to the list.”
* * *
The more Laurie thought about it, the less sense it made. The general condition of the dwelling, which he thought about briefly to determine the proper adjective; ‘adequate’, seemed out of place with the fabric curtain that bisected the room. It just smacked of a rush job. But why?
Something else nibbled at the back of his mind as well. Somewhere between his colorful public service announcement about “why to avoid gardener plants at all costs - unless you were really hungry, in which case you can try this little field technique”, and drearily stumbling his way into a decidedly inadequately lit cottage, there was something else. He strained to remember.
The memory involved a hoof tap on his shoulder.
Not just any hoof, as it suddenly dawned on him.
He turned to look at the curtain. He could hear a slight rustling behind it.
A guest? Laurie grimaced. He could barely remember anything about that. He approached the curtain and cleared his throat
“Ahem, excuse me. Hello. Is anypony in there?”
The rustling stopped.
“Anyways, hello, again. I think. I believe I should introduce myself. I am Lieu.. er.. Captain Laurence Lancaster. But you can call me Laurie for short. I hope I didn’t startle you there, but I believe we should get to know each other. After all, I understand you are a guest in Her Majesty’s kingdom of Equestria, and I am here to be your escort, your guide, and quite possibly your friend as well.”
Laurie paused for a moment, suddenly drawing in his breath. Memories of the previous day surged in his mind. The dawning horror of the branches slapping his face, the rush of the ground to meet them, his barely suppressed urge to scream “women drivers!”, and the abrupt painful crash in Everfree Forest. But there was something else that crept into his painful flashback. The metal monster!
From across the curtain, footsteps could be heard.
* * *
“You’ve been working on your list for a while now.”
“Don’t rush me girl, you know I ain’t the sorta filly that has to make two trips.”
“At this rate, I don’t see you making any trips.”
“Fluttershy, don’t you have some cutsie wootsie little green hoppers to handle back in the swamp?”
“Oh, I do!” She said through gritted teeth. “And you know what? It’s applesauce on the menu today!”
* * *
Laurie recoiled as the curtain began to pull aside, steeling his body into the panicked position of attention that had long since superseded the typical fight or flight pose of less disciplined creatures. The haphazardly placed tacks gave way from the ceiling, and the whole curtain fell to the floor in a *whump*.
Staring across the room were two surprised individuals. Not equally surprised, but sharing some mutual modicum of astonishment.
Laurie attempted to relax slightly, but the chain of command in his brain had efficiently lost or routed any such thoughts into bureaucratic oblivion. The ‘guest’ standing before him did not bear the formidable nightmare-inducing suit of armor he had seen earlier. In place of a dragon’s skull, forged from blackened metal, and rimmed with glowing glass eyes, there was a simple round face with a neat tuft of wavy hair. Only two arms, instead of four this time, and a white cotton fabric that draped loosely over a slightly rounded belly, in place of the many interlocking scorched steel plates.
It raised one arm, waggling it’s flat palm with five fingers pressed together as a shallow bowl.
To Laurie, the greeting that followed sounded not terribly unlike a bulldog clearing it’s throat in preparation of singing a baritone part in a Bel Canto style opera.
After a few brief moments, the interloper returned to its chair. It picked up a pair of boots, and began to rub a greasy black cloth in tiny circles around the toe.
Laurie looked down at his own hooves suddenly, and then to the small metal tin of ebony hued wax next to the interloper. He approached cautiously, pointing an inquisitive hoof.
The interloper dabbed the cloth in the tin, smearing it around on the face of Laurie’s hoof, and then brushing it vigorously with a wooden block stuffed with short stiff bristles.
He looked down in amazement.
Now, that was shiny!
With wide eyes and an exuberant grin, Laurie took a look at the rest of the Interloper’s belongings. He extended a hoof to delicately touch the crisp shirt hanging from a makeshift line strung across the room. The creases were impeccable, and the fabric itself held stiff with only a soft pliant give. Laurie stopped to look at his own royal sash wadded in a barely laundered heap at the foot of his bed. He turned back to face the Interloper.
It stood there, aiming a stubby metallic tube at Laurie’s neck.
There was a soft whine, and a blast of hot air. The damp hairs of his mane ruffled and dried with perfect wavy volume.
Laurie searched a moment for the best adjective to describe how he felt.
This was Fabulous!
* * *
Twilight stirred gently at the incessant prodding of one polished azure hoof.
“Ooh, what time is it?” she mumbled, blearily opening one eye just far enough to bare her pupil to the stone floor and wooden tables of Celestia’s private study.
Both eyes shot open. Luna stood before her in the dim library, deftly levitating a long wicked blade within the shimmering magical aether of her glowing horn.
A million questions raced through Twilight’s head. Foremost of these was just how well an entire wall of books would insulate her final gurgling screams from the rest of the world.
“I’m glad you are awake Twilight. I know it has been a while since we’ve seen each other!”
Twilight gulped.
“Anyways, I have a slight favor to ask. I have just sent for our guest, who should be arriving here soon. Celestia asked me to wake her before then, but I’m afraid she’s completely dead to the world!”
Twlight gulped, again.
“I have a few loose ends to wrap up myself.. Are you all right?”
She nodded weakly, glancing across to see Princess Celestia’s chest still rising and falling, as she sprawled loosely over the throw pillow.
“Okay. If you could wake her up soon, that would be tremendously helpful. Oh, and could you give her this as well?” The tip of the polished ornamental blade sank smoothly into the wooden bench.
Twilight drew her gaze to the sharp silvery implement, just as Luna leaned in closely - their horns nearly crossed.
“Between you and me, she can sleep like a bear - and the snoring isn’t that far off either.”
Luna turned to leave, making her way to the door before Twilight found her voice.
“What is the knife for?”
Luna stopped, and looked back.
“Beats me,” she said with a shrug.
* * *
Laurie’s hooves gleamed pitch black, and his sash hung smartly over his forequarters; the beleaguered fabric pressed flat with a silvery polished brick that blasted steam like a sleeping dragon.
The two stood to inspect and admire each other, helpfully correcting any minor imperfections. Despite not sharing a single word, they conveyed their thoughts easily through a wealth of common experience.
There was a slight muffled commotion outside the cottage. They turned to look, before exchanging a glance that clearly spoke “Ehh..”
Laurie’s guest gestured with one hand, pursing its fingers together against its lips and chewing.
The brown and white pony nodded understandingly.
Feeling the hairs rise on the back of his mane, Laurie stepped back towards the window, peering out through the curtains. He sighed with relief at the distinct lack of anything pink.
Just then, the door burst open.
“Gooood Morning!” squealed Pinkie Pie, delicately balancing a cupcake on her nose through her violent entrance.
Laurie could not scream, but he tried with all his might.
Pinkie jerked her head up with her teeth bared wide. The cupcake sailed upwards.
Laurie could not help but share a brief emotional bond with the tiny confection. His heart wrenched and his eyes glistened with fear and sadness as it arced through the air, before succumbing to the inexorable tug of gravity, and disappearing with a single wet snap in that voracious jaw. You and me both, brother. You and me both.
“Who’s hungry!” she shouted through frosting smeared lips.
The interloper stared quizzically, turning to look at Laurie, then back to Pinkie, then back to where Pinkie was looking.
“Fluttershy? Applejack? What are you doing there?” she asked through mouthfuls of masticated mush.
The tangled morass of tan and yellow pony stopped abruptly, staring up from outside the door.
“Oh well! Breakfast is served!” Pinkie announced as she bounced out of the cottage, and across the street to Sugarcube Corner.
Laurie and the interloper stopped to exchange a glance with Fluttershy and Applejack. Awkward transcends all language barriers.
They left quickly. Laurie would take his chances with Pinkie.
* * *
The tan pony gently spat out a tuft of delicate pink mane.
“Fluttershy?”
“Yes Applejack?”
“Reckon you’re in the mood for a bite to eat?”
“Ohh.. most definitely”
* * *
“You should’ve seen me!” boasted Scootaloo, through bites of a rainbow sprinkled doughnut.
“Oh I saw you allright. I thought you were going to launch all the way into Cloudsdale! Don’t try anything like that again tho, or you’re going to get picked up by the Wonderbolts before me!” Rainbow Dash ruffled Scootaloo’s mane.
“Wasn’t nearly as awesome as what you did, Sweetie Belle. I heard you kick that thing from fifty yards away!”
Sweetie Belle smiled, her body still sore from the near-fatal encounter with the spiderpede, her mind treading carefully around the terrible memories of the incident.
“Oh, it was nothing. Although, I just hope there were no hard feelings,” she grinned slightly, but hanging her head. “I know I didn’t feel very brave yesterday.”
The door crashed open.
“More tea, girls?” asked Pinkie Pie, as she bounded back into Sugarcube Corner.
“With lemon drops, and enough sugar to knock out a humming..” Scootaloo paused, looking across the dining area.
The otherwordly visitor, and a spectacularly well groomed officer of Her Royal Majesty’s Palace Guard stood at the threshold.
Laurie broke the silence - oblivious to the sudden tension in the room - as he sidled up to a free table, and motioned to Mrs Cake.
“Hello, and good morning. I was wondering if I couldn’t get a little something for myself and my, er, friend here. I’ll have my eggs runny, my coffee black, and my toast blacker. Oh, and a receipt please. Travel records, you know. And for him, eh.. oh wait, where are you going?”
Rainbow Dash’s hoof pressed firmly against Scootaloo’s, as the interloper approached their table.
Sweetie Belle held her head high, returning the gaze.
It gave a disconcerting smile, leaning over the table. Slowly it raised a fist, and brought it down hard into the side of its own thigh.
The diner grew unsettlingly quiet.
Slowly, the interloper reached across the table to Sweetie Belle, past the other nervously immobile ponies, and raised its fist again.
A gentle tap connected with Sweetie Belle’s flank, careful to avoid the bandaged portion.
A palpable sense of relief filled the diner, as the interloper tousled Sweetie Belle’s pink and purple mane. She smiled deeply as he returned to sit next to Laurie.
“Huh? What was that all about? Arghh.. You can’t understand me? Can you? Oh well - just thought I’d put that out there. So! What will you be having? Gah! Still no idea what I’m saying right?”
* * *
“Now that was the bravest thing ah ever did see,” breathed Applebloom.
Sweetie Belle shook her head. “No, I’m not that brave. Really.”
“That’s just it. My big sis used to tell me that being brave only happens when you ain’t, but you do it anyways.”
The Cutie Mark Crusaders each placed a hoof in the center of the table, wordlessly acknowledging that which did not need to be said.
“Speakin of which, what’s she doing here this early anyways?”
* * *
The two devoured their breakfast in relative silence. While every eye in the diner was locked onto Laurie and his strange looking guest, Laurie felt one set that seemed to be drilling a hole in the back of his neck with focused intensity. They both turned around to look.
Applejack and Fluttershy sat several tables behind them, their plates untouched. Applejack suddenly looked up with a start, reciting the next month’s rain forecast from the Apple family Almanac, while Fluttershy abruptly buried her face in an upside-down newspaper - in much the same manner that a blushing Victorian lady might demurely conceal herself with the switchblade deployment of a folding fan. If only she could be seen from behind it.
Laurie and his guest turned back to their meal, blissfully oblivious.
He watched Pinkie as she bounded industriously around the diner, feeling slightly more relaxed in the close proximity to her hyperactive pink presence. A humorous thought crossed his mind. ‘Give me a few more soldiers like these, and we’ll never see another war!’ He sighed with amusement. He really shouldn’t be so worked up when she was around.
“Desseeert time!” cried Pinkie as she barrelled towards Laurie with a large wobbling tray, overloaded with towering stacks of frosted and jelly slathered sweetbreads.
Laurie’s eyes darted from the structurally ‘temporary’ assortment, back to his groomed fur and crisp immaculate sash, and then back to Pinkie.
Oh god oh god oh god KEEP IT AWAY!
* * *
A gentle trumpeting heralded the arrival of the pegasi drawn coach, as it set down with the grace of a falling leaf on a still pond. It glided smoothly on well greased wheels towards Sugarcube Corner, narrowly missing one panic stricken brown and white pony who had bolted from the door scant moments prior.
Unfazed by the near brush with death, the pony could be seen looking back with alarm, as if it had forgotten something terribly important. The cry of “My receipt!” barely audible over the screeching of its hooves.
“Lieutenant Lancaster, I should presume,” the older black haired pony shouted dryly.
“Oh, hello!” Laurie trotted over to the carriage.
“Ahem”
“Huh? Ohhhh.. A salute. Right. Ahh, I figured that since we’re both Captains now, it wasn’t necessary. Sorry about that, one for old times sake eh?”
Laurie saluted smartly. The other pony performed a similar motion that might appear as a salute to the casual onlooker, but really looked like rubbing his temple in anticipation of a crippling brain aneurysm.
“Exactly how long have you been a Captain, Mr Lancaster?”
“Ahh.. about twelve hours now. No wait, more like twenty or so.”
The older pony glared.
“I have the chit right here too..” He ruffled through his satchel.
“Nevermind. We’re here for our ‘guest’. Perhaps you’ve seen him, or her, or whatever, in the last twenty hours?”
“Well speak of the devil, here he comes now.”
Laurie motioned towards his guest to enter the carriage, as he clambered aboard.
“Mr Lancaster.”
“Yes?”
“Get out.”
“Ahh.. right.”
“Normally I understand this would have been your job, but I hear you’ve been having some carriage trouble recently.”
“Gargle in a slit trench, sir.”
“What was that? Speak up Lieutenant, or whatever it is that you call yourself these days.”
“Understood perfectly, Sir!”
The two exchanged a mutually professional glare.
“Sir, permission to speak freely, Sir!” called out the lead pegasus.
“Go ahead.”
“Sir, permission to hydrate before we return airborne.”
“You’re serious? You are serious. Aghh. Fine! You have three minutes. Stay right here, and don’t let our guest leave. I’m going inside to de-hydrate.”
He turned to Laurie before he descended from the carriage.
“Enjoy your stay in Ponyville, Lieutenant. I’d love to stay and chat, but we have work to do back in Canterlot.”
The door to Sugarcube Corner closed behind him.
“Captain, permission to speak freely?”
“Huh? what? Oh hey, you’re the team with me yesterday. How are you guys holding up? But yes, ah, go ahead.”
“Get in.”
“Ahh..”
“Now.”
“You don’t suppose somepony might have an issue with that?”
“Negative sir. Orders state that we return to Canterlot without delay.”
“If you say so..” Laurie’s words cut short as the carriage rocketed forwards, slamming him into the soft plush seat.
Twilight continued to prod, but the slumbering white alicorn did not budge. Exasperated, she leveled her horn at Celestia's flank, and nudged her gently. Still she did not stir, save for a low grumbling, and a faint whisper.
“..who brought the whipped cream.”
It was then that Twilight knew the utter depths of fear.
* * *
“Thank you so much gentlemen. Remember, this is all my fault. Direct orders from a ranking officer, and all that. Please do come see me at my inevitable court martial, and have a good flight!”
Laurie and his guest proceeded through the serenely decorated main hall, footsteps and hoof taps synchronizing into a rhythmic cadence.
“Okay, if you will just wait here,” Laurie tapped a seat in the Princess’s antechamber. “I will inform Her Majesty that we have arrived. Er.. Yeah. Still cant understand me, I know.”
The interloper seated himself at Laurie’s request, reclining slightly.
Laurie approached the door to the study. He took a quick inventory of his grooming, came to attention, and rapped his hoof on the door three times with perfect courtesy. There was no response, but he could hear something in the room beyond.
"Allright then,” he said to himself as gently parted the door. “Good afternoon your Majesty, I would like to present.."
Laurie stopped abruptly. What he had to say was no longer relevant to what he saw. Entering partway through the door, he caught sight of the Princess Celestia sprawled ungracefully across the floor. Her grand and massive body the lodestone against which one perspiring purple pony persistently pushed.
"Uh.."
The throw pillow slipped across the polished stone, sending Twilight sprawling across Celestia’s slowly heaving flank. She looked up angrily at Laurie’s shocked countenance. Her eyes glared with a message; not the look of “I can explain everything!” that Laurie was so well practiced with, but something more base and savage.
I Will End You.
Laurie exited the room quickly, slamming the door behind him. He stood there, breathing heavily for a moment, before turning to look at his puzzled guest.
"I will not lie. I'm going to need a cold shower after this. You still can't understand me right? Well don't worry, it's for the best."
Just then a familiar pony rounded the corner of the grand hall, striding silently towards the antechamber with the inexorable determination of an active tectonic plate. He stopped no less than a whisker's breadth from Laurie's face, his royal blue tunic sporting the indelible stains of pink frosting and raspberry glaze.
"I Will End You," He whispered.
Laurie gulped.
From within the study, came a deep rumbling sound.
“What was that?” the dark haired pony demanded, as he glanced around Laurie’s head.
“A bear, I think.”
“Get out of my way.”
“No, no, wait!”
Laurie attempted to shield the door, tripping backwards as the other officer attempted to push past. The dark haired pony tumbled on top of Laurie as they both landed, sprawled halfway into Celestia’s private study.
They scrambled to extricate themselves - pulling their heads clear as the door slammed shut. It vibrated with the distinct *thwack* of a long polished knife embedding itself in thick varnished wood.
They both faced away from the door, staring off into oblivion. After some time, one of them spoke.
“Ah.. Captain Lancaster, is it?”
“Yes, Captain Dornier?”
“We’re both fired.”
“What?”
“Medical discharge, you see. After I finish throttling your windpipe, I’ll be gouging my eyes out with the kitchen utensils.”
“Ahhh.. right.”
* * *
“Huh.. wonder what that was all about,” Applejack mused at the panicked flailing exit of one particular brown and white pony. She elbowed Fluttershy with a wink. “Yep! Definitely not the silent type!”
“Ohh.. I hope he’s not the silent type,” she responded dreamily.
Applejack found herself halfway across the room before she could speak again, torn between a sudden urge to follow the interloper out the door, a sudden urge to distance herself from any further brain melting single-entendres, and a sudden urge to chug every bottle of cider from the top shelf in the Apple family cellar.
“Love to stay and chat, ya know - but them fields ain’t gonna harvest themselves. I’ll just be.. Ooof!”
“Ach!” The dark haired pony cried, as they collided and tumbled to the floor. “Watch where you’re going!”
Applejack was already out the door, her autopilot apology suddenly drowned out by the beating of pegasi wings and the rattling cacophony of a royal carriage launching under “wartime emergency power”.
This left the dark haired pony in a state of distress. His eyes bulged, and their fierce unfocused stare seemed to be on the cusp of channeling a torrent of raw hatred into a formidably tangible manifestation. The same raw hatred that, were it to escape the rigor mortis of his lips, would erupt forth in a deafening roar of thunder, bellowing a wordless unholy curse that would rend asunder the many souls of all life in all universes.
However, he simply appeared to be choking. On air.
He turned with a snarl, steeling himself to burst out through the door in one predatory leap. It was then that he was given pause.
If there were a terrible and abrupt end to the world, this was exactly how Captain Dornier would have dreadfully imagined it; a leering pink visage with teeth bared wide, framed by two towers of sickly sweet confections stacked like the skulls of a conquered civilization; arms stretched wide to deliver a crushing embrace to all that remained good in the world; its throat warbling with the exuberant singsong malfeasance that heralded the end of time itself. It sang, “cupcakes”.
“Oh god oh god oh god KEEP IT AWAY!”
* * *
Applejack walked glumly back into Sugarcube Corner, halfheartedly tiptoeing past the frosted shrapnel and raspberry flavored ichor that one would expect if a wedding cake were to suddenly explode in a room full of crowded people.
As she sat down to finish her untouched breakfast, she turned to Fluttershy.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d reckon you were part unicorn,” she said, patting her forehead with a hoof.
Fluttershy gasped, feeling her own forehead. “What makes you think that?”
“..Forget it.”
* * *
“We have a problem.”
“I’m looking at it.”
“No. Look around! What do you see missing here?”
“You, shortly.”
“Just shut up and listen to me!” Laurie gestured around the room. “That table needs to be turned sideways and moved to the center. Equal representation of parties, and all that. There’s no tea ready, those chairs have to be moved, we have to take up positions here, annnd here, and that flag in the corner needs to be unfurled and canted half-forward facing away from the door.”
Laurie threw his hooves up in exasperation. “And we need a second flag facing the opposite way on the other side! We don’t have much time!”
“What in her name are you going on about?” Dornier gestured towards the door.
Laurie turned and slapped the thick square deadweight in his satchel. “Chapter eighteen, section five! Protocol for official meetings between Equestrian Sovereignty and visiting foreign dignitaries, diplomats, or military officers! And I’m pretty sure that he’s all three.”
“Oh for the love of..”
“Listen! Duty comes before.. whatever it is you’re planning to do with a blunt kitchen utensil. Or what you’re planning to do to me, for that matter. Even if they’re probably the same thing. The point is, there will be a very important official meeting taking place in the very immediate future, and we can’t be standing around waving our campfire rations at each other when it takes place!”
The door burst open. Laurie and Dornier gasped, suddenly holding each other for protection in the face of what horrors were about to befall.
Twilight Sparkle stepped through into the antechamber. Her head hung in dejected frustration, the last traces of her energy directed in a glare at the two officers.
They held each other tighter, momentarily.
“Um.. okay. Right then..” The two distanced themselves, having quickly forged an unbreakable pact to never speak of this event again.
“Aaaghhh, it’s no use!” Twilight wailed.
“What is?”
“She will NOT wake up!”
“Perfect!” cried Laurie. “We can still do this!”
“Whaaat?”
“No time to explain. Here!” Laurie fetched the weighty slab of dog eared pages from his satchel, slamming it to the table in front of Twilight, and ruffling through the bookmarks until he found chapter eighteen.
“It’s all right there. Pictures and everything. I think I drew some annotations over in the corner there. But anyways! Please follow it to the letter!. I’m going to tell the kitchen staff to prepare some tea, and then I’ll be running halfway across the palace for another flag with the same size and insignia as that one!”
“But..” Twilight protested.
“Do it nooooooowww!” Laurie cried as he galloped down the main hallway, rounding the corner and disappearing from sight.
Dornier and Twilight looked at each other briefly, then to the interloper who had been sitting patiently through the whole exchange.
It raised one hand, waving it gently back and forth.
The greeting it issued sounded not unlike a wheel-less carriage plowing a furrow through a leafy compost-rich forest floor.
* * *
“Now what the hay was that all about?” Rainbow Dash wondered aloud.
They surveyed the damage caused by the dark haired pony’s sudden rush out the door. The first collision had sent Pinkie Pie flying, to say nothing of the twin plates of desserts. The next collision was not seen so much as heard, as the officer had barreled straight into Applejack a second time, outside of Sugarcube Corner.
There had been Words exchanged, followed by an indignant stream of noise that steadily diminished as it raced down the street.
The Cutie Mark Crusaders listened with eyes wide and mouths open.
“How would a whole bag of oats even fit there!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed.
* * *
Laurie returned triumphantly, brandishing the temporarily appropriated flag like a lance. The furniture of the antechamber had been moved into a rough approximation of the drawing in the Royal Guardpony field manual - even though the layout described was a few castles old.
“Are you happy now?”
“What, are you kidding me!” Laurie pointed at the tray of cups surrounding the steaming kettle. “No, no! Ahh.. Wait, perfect. Let’s move that stationary desk just outside of the room. That way when it comes time for tea, we can bring it in properly. Not have it staring them in the face during the initial meeting, or make them wait while we dash back to the kitchen. Even says so in the manual!”
“Un-rutting-believable!” Dornier turned back to Twilight. “Ah, pardon the language, Miss.”
Twilight stared blankly, barely noticing the minor impingement on her ears.
Laurie propped up the flag next to the door, before pushing the small desk out into the hallway. He motioned to the interloper with a series of quick gestures, who understood them perfectly - as he got up to push a sizable potted plant against the side of the door, and planted the unfurled flag at an angle that matched the first.
“Seriously! Where do you find time to read all this crap?”
Laurie looked up angrily. “I..”
“..well I’m lonely sometimes,” he finished defensively.
Dornier guffawed. “Pffffff.. I don’t think I’ve known anyone this pathetic since I heard of that one recruit that got caught clopping off while reading a field manual.”
“Those were two entirely independent actions!” Laurie shouted. “Err. I mean.. multitasking, you know. The section on woodland survival.. Oh go to hell!”
A malevolent grin spread across Dornier’s face. One that he appeared to enjoy immensely.
Twilight sat upright, snapping the Royal Guardpony field manual shut with a twitch of magic. Slowly, she brought her hooves up to the level of her unfocused eyes, shaking gently as she sought refuge in the portion of her mind that was not responsible for conscious thought.
“Do you have one useful thing to say? Hmm? Is there anything I could expect to come out of that horn polisher that you mistakenly refer to as a mouth that could, in any way, be helpful? At all?”
“Ahem.. yes. There is,” Dornier stiffened to a position of attention and saluted. “Good afternoon, Princess Luna.”
“Oh shit!” Laurie shouted as he spun around, snapping to attention.
“Uhh..” Luna regarded them through bleary eyes.
“Ahh. Belay my last. Good afternoon, Princess,” Laurie managed carefully.
“Oh, it’s all right. At ease gentlemen. Where is Celestia?”
Twilight shook her head.
“I see.. well don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. By the way, the room looks perfect! Good job making use of the extra time,” she smiled.
“Oh, and Captain Laurie, right? Um. Don’t worry. I like to read books too. Ahem, just not always in that way.”
Laurie stood mortified, but cocked an eye at the Princess’s choice of words.
“I mean..” her indigo face tinged with the slightest flush of red. “Twilight likes to read a lot too! You two should probably trade books sometime!”
The awkwardness in the room had manifested itself in a metaphoric three-way reach around.
Luna pushed open the door to the study.
“Huh? How’d that get stuck there?” She turned back to face the trio, plus guest. “I’ll have her out in five minutes. Be ready!”
The room was quiet, with the three ponies waiting for the arrival of Celestia.
One pony felt as if he was going to die of embarrassment.
One pony felt as if he was going to die from suppressed laughter.
One pony was in her happy place.
From behind the door, Luna’s voice could be faintly heard.
“Wake up sleepyhorn! Come on, lets go. I know you can hear me. What? No, I’m not the Phillydelphia Clydesdales! How would that even..? ARRGHH!”
There was a sound of a short running start, followed by the sound of two heavy sacks thrown together. Again. And again.
It was a very long five minutes.
* * *
“Are you okay, Miss?”
Pinkie looked up, still dizzy from her encounter with Captain Dornier. When any two ponies meet in such a manner, physics always wins.
“I invented the hippogryph!” Pinkie exclaimed, dispelling any indications of permanent brain damage.
“Ehh..” remarked the grey pony, not entirely convinced.
“Ooohh. Who are you?”
“Ahh, forgive me,” the grey pony said, turning one leg sideways and bending it into a crescent shape. “I’m ..”
“No, I mean who are you? I’ve never seen you before. Are you new here?”
He thought for a moment, letting his leg fall back into a normal stance. “Yes and no. I don’t live here, but I am visiting. I’m.. a reporter. And I’ve heard that something rather interesting took place last night.”
“Oh..” Pinkie’s bubbly smile returned. “Would you like a cupcake?”
“I would be delighted.”
* * *
Princess Celestia smoothly parted the doors to her study, her horn glowing slightly with the trivial effort as she entered the antechamber. Her body cast a gentle luminance across the room, as she stepped forward looking remarkably refreshed and envigorated.
“Captains, I see that everything looks perfectly in order. Very well done.”
Laurie allowed the hint of a proud smirk to cross his face, which prompted Dornier to respond with an imperceptible roll of his eyes.
“And Twilight Sparkle, my most talented and trusted student, I am so glad to have you here for this occasion.”
Twilight nodded weakly.
“I was having the most wonderful dream earlier. I think you might have been in it too! I simply must tell you all about it..” Celestia pondered her next words carefully. “..sometime later.”
Twilight hid her emotion behind the veneer of a smile. This was surprisingly easy, since horses and ponies lack the physiological capability to vomit.
“And now, to business,” she approached the table confidently.
The interloper stood across the table. He bowed respectfully, to which Celestia responded in turn. The alicorn extended her hoof, which was met by a firm grasp. They shook for a second time, with practiced fluidity.
“Luna, if you would please.”
Princess Luna approached the table alongside her sister. A long polished knife slid out from an ornate holster strapped across her foreleg, levitating over the table and laying itself down between the two parties.
Celestia nodded to the interloper, as she put forward one hoof. Her leg could not twist far enough to turn over completely, but the gesture was understood. The otherworldly visitor extended his hand with the palm facing upwards.
The knife rose into the air with a delicate precision, hovering directly over the outstretched palm. Their eyes locked together as the sharpened tip traced a fine line across the skin, which slowly welled up with a single drop of blood.
The interloper winced slightly, but remained still.
The knife rose again into the air between them, flipping upside down. Celestia closed her eyes, and lowered her head. It spun in a circle, coming to rest gently against the base of her horn.
It slid down the length, shaving away a glowing filament that curled into a loose spiral. The strand of Celestia’s horn floated down lazily, landing in the visitor’s outstretched palm. She braced her wings against the edges of the table, lifting both hooves to meet the interloper’s clasped hands.
They stayed that way briefly, as Celestia intoned a long and soft incantation. As she finished, her horn gently descended, pressing firmly against the crown of the his head.
There was a soft flash of light, and a brief silence that left everyone’s ears slightly ringing.
Princess Celestia returned her hooves to the floor, smiling at the visitor. The two stared thoughtfully at each other for some time, before Celestia spoke.
“Hello.”
The interloper’s eyes widened slightly, but not with alarm or undue amazement. It raised one hand, gently waving it side to side.
“Hello,” he replied.
The other ponies stared with rapt attention.
“I believe there is much we have to talk about,” Celestia stated. “But first, could I offer you tea?”
“Good afternoon fillies, I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time?”
“What fer?” Applebloom asked cautiously.
“A story we’re hoping to publish for tomorrow’s edition of the Northern Lanshire Reader. Have you heard of them?”
They responded with a chorus of shaking heads.
“Well, it’s a newspaper, and I’m a reporter. Now, I imagine you can already guess what my story is about,” he gestured to where the Interloper had been sitting, minutes prior.
“And who might you be, again?” asked Rainbow Dash.
“Raines. Tory Raines,” he bowed slightly, canting one leg into a curved arc.
He looked across the table for a moment, before letting his leg relax.
“I’ll begin,” he said, as he unwrapped a pink frosted cupcake. “I understand you three..”
“Four.” Rainbow Dash corrected.
“Mm.. That you four were among the first to actually meet this visitor. What can you tell me about that.”
“Well, I know we were all a bit scared at first. But that turned out to be a big ol misunderstanding,” Applebloom said sheepishly.
“I see.”
“I think he’s a lot nicer than he looked.. the first time around anyways,” Scootaloo offered.
“I thought he was brave, and very caring,” Sweetie Belle spoke softly.
Tory finished swallowing a mouthfull of cupcake.
“It seems like he must be a very powerful user of magic as well,” he remarked. “After all, you saw what he did to that creature.”
Sweetie Belle looked up.
“Yes, very powerful magic,” she said.
“But..” Rainbow Dash was interrupted by a hoof kick from under the table.
“Hmmm?” Tory inquired of the light blue pony.
Dash looked back to Sweetie Belle for a moment.
“Yeah, sure looks that way. But I’ve seen better. I’d bet Twilight could run rings around him! You know.. in like a magic contest, or something.”
“I see,” Tory remarked.
“Excuse me, but what’s this all about?” Applejack interrupted as she walked up to the table. “Is this feller bothering y’all?”
Tory turned with mild surprise, a sudden grin appearing on his face as he recognized the newcomer.
“Ahhh.. You must be Applejack.”
“Reckon so,” she eyed him inquisitively. “Who’s askin?”
“Forgive me, Miss. Tory Raines, reporter for the Northern Lanshire Reader. I’m writing a story about our new visitor here, and I understand that you may have run across him.”
* * *
“Has everything been to your liking?”
“Ah, yes. Very much so,” the Interloper replied through sips of tea. “This really is a beautiful place. I have no other way to describe it.”
“I am honored that you feel that way,” Celestia took another sip of tea, her cup suspended in the air.
He stared at the teacup for a moment.
“I’m still not quite sure how you’re doing that. Or how exactly we can suddenly understand each other.”
“Do you not have magic, where you come from?”
“Nothing of the sort, save for stories and ancient beliefs. I will say that the word you used sounded a bit odd in my head. My definition of the word feels like only an approximate match to the way you spoke about it.”
“I see,” Celestia set her teacup on the table. “I find that very interesting, that you and your people have almost no concept of it.”
“I can imagine it perfectly well, but I have never seen it used in a manner that proves it exists.”
“But we, you even, are using it at this very moment,” she lifted the teacup and swirled it gently, as if to prove a point. “Not to mention that which allows us to speak by conveying our thoughts alongside our voice.”
“Mmm.. “ he contemplated. “As much as I would normally be inclined to dismiss such claims for lack of evidence, I can’t help but to notice that it’s staring me in the face. I don’t suppose that sliver of horn that you placed in my palm had anything to do with us being able to communicate?”
“It was a necessary step. The enchantment does need some magic to operate, even just a tiny amount. You had nothing of the sort. Please consider what I have given you as a gift. Perhaps one of many that we may share in building a harmonious relationship.”
“I am honored by your consideration, and I hope that we may grow together not just as allies, but as friends. I must ask though, did that hurt much?” He gestured to the Celestia’s horn.
“I’m sure that will buff out,” Celestia smiled.
The Interloper chuckled slightly.
“You know, we do have a saying from where I’m from. Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”
Celestia winced slightly at the unfamiliar word.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m sorry, but something you said was rather obscure.. very hard to put my hoof on. It felt like it meant ‘things that make things that make things that make things’, over and over again.”
“I see. I think I know which word you’re referring to, and I can understand if it’s not easy to grasp right away. The concept is simple, but the implications are many - and I must have been thinking about the latter definition when I stated it.”
“And how would that be, as you say, indistinguishable from magic?”
“Hmm. Let me think for a moment. Ahh, here’s an example.”
The Interloper raised his left hand, balled in a fist. All four fingers flipped open at once, leaving a grid of glowing squares across his palm, each with a strange symbol. He quickly tapped the squares in a sequence, and then curled his hand as if he were holding an invisible cone. A strange rhythmic beeping filled the room for several seconds, before he slapped his fingers closed against his palm. The beeping abruptly silenced.
The ponies in the room stared, absolutely dumbfounded.
“That wasn’t part of the spell,” Celestia looked across the table with a trace of confusion. “I thought you had no magic?”
“See?” the Interloper stated dryly. “No, in fact that was not magic. What you heard was the signal from an embedded private branch exchange client to indicate a loss of connection to any master or fail-over network.
Every pony winced at the perfectly understandable, but completely unintelligible concept attempting to force its way into their mind.
“And the symbols you saw were numbers, activated by a graphics driver controlling a bioluminescent grid array..”
“Enough, please,” Celestia raised one hoof in acquiescence. “I appreciate your explanation, but please understand - the concepts behind some of these words are completely alien, yet the spell attempts to force an understanding, even when it can not. It can be uncomfortable to grasp so much at once.”
“I understand. Perhaps we can save such things for later. But before we change subjects, I would point out that what you witnessed appeared to be magic to you, but is well understood by myself as a relatively mundane collection of interconnected systems.”
The ponies winced again.
“Sorry.”
Twilight cleared her throat. “Are there many powerful.. ‘technology’ users among your people?”
“That is a very good question, although I can not answer it with a simple yes or no. In a sense, everybody uses it, though not all understand it. But it works regardless, even if those that use it simply take it for granted without realizing how or why it works in the first place. Does that make any sense?”
“Sort of..” she replied - feeling more confused than before.
“Now don’t get me wrong. I still have no idea how you use magic, and I would be interested to learn. Although at the moment, I wouldn’t say that I even know the right questions to ask.”
“If you plan to stay for some time, “ Celestia interjected, “my student, Twilight Sparkle, may be able to learn of your ways, and help to offer an understanding of ours.”
“I will look forward to it.”
He looked across to Twilight, who was easily the youngest participant of the meeting. She looked back at the Interloper; her curiosity becoming the lifeline that tugged her conscious back into sanity.
“Your mentor speaks very highly of you, as I believe we both understand the depth of this undertaking. Tell me, what would you be most interested to learn?”
Twilight stared blankly for a moment, her brain whirling into action with all the coherence of a tornado in a trailer park.
“Thats.. hard to say. Everything, I guess,” she admitted sheepishly.
The Interloper smiled kindly. “Well, I must admire your enthusiasm, but ‘everything’ is quite a lot to take in. Believe me, I’ve tried,” he said with a wink.
“Well,” she continued, “I think that everything can be explained through rational examination leading to logical conclusions. I don’t see why that it couldn’t be done, given enough time.”
“It seems we have an aspiring scientist among us.”
The ponies in the room winced slightly, save for Twilight. The word did not exist in her mind, but it made sense easily.
“Are there a lot of.. scientists among your people? Are you one too?” she beamed with curiosity.
“Yes, and yes. To some degree at least.”
“This is exciting,” she exclaimed, as her thoughts began to inadvertently leak out as words. “Can you show me how you do it? Er.. science, I mean.”
The Interloper sat back quietly for a moment, contemplating her request. Celestia was about to say something before the conversation completely derailed, but she delayed just slightly too long.
“I know. Here, lets say I have a hypothesis regarding this magical ability that lets me talk. Based on my hypothesis,” several ponies winced again, “I will attempt to run an experiment to see if my observed results can support my idea.”
He looked at Celestia again and waved.
“Hello!”
“Ahh.. Hello?” she replied, slightly confused.
“Great! That worked.”
The Interloper stood, and walked around the table, approaching the potted plant near the wall that bore the weight of a wooden flagpole.
“Hello!” he spoke to the plant. Nearly every pony winced, but not because of the spell.
“Hello!” he repeated, tapping his foot impatiently. He swatted the small shrub with one hand, before leaning back on his heels, and crossing his arms.
“Oy, you could stand to loose some weight!”
The plant said nothing.
“Oh well,” he muttered as he returned to his seat. “So anyways, did you see that? I conducted an experiment to see if I could talk to any living thing, or just some living things. Now it didn’t say anything back, and that could be explained by the fact that it doesn’t have ears to hear me, a brain to come up with a response, or a mouth to say anything. It is a plant, after all. Either that, or I need to talk louder next time.”
Luna cleared her throat. “Forgive me if this sounds rude, but why on Equestria did you attempt an experiment for which thou knew the outcome?”
“Ahh, well I can answer that with three reasons. One, it was funny. Two, science is not a discipline about testing what we already know. It’s about challenging one’s existing assumptions, and letting curiosity reign over learned complacency. And three, that was her first lesson on the matter.”
The proverbial dam holding back a thousand other questions in Twilight’s mind was nearing the breaking point. Celestia reacted much faster this time.
“Twilight, if you would please, could you fetch the small wooden chest from my study? I trust you remember which one.”
“Ahh,” she paused, just nearly on the cusp of asking how the Interloper managed to perform certain bodily functions while wearing half a ton of articulated steel armor. And by ‘certain’, she meant ‘all of them’.
“Yes, your Majesty,” she ducked her head and proceeded through the door.
The room was blessed with blissful momentary silence.
“Ahem, pardon me, your Majesty. I would like to interject a question.”
“Go ahead, Captain.”
“It seems that my contemporary, Lieu.. er, Captain Lancaster.. has offered the suggestion that our guest may have a military background of sorts. Would he care to answer?”
Celestia nodded, looking at the Interloper. “I would be interested to know, as well. Are you a soldier?”
“Mmm. That is an interesting question, but my answer may not be very definitive. No, I am not a soldier, or an officer in any branch of any military. However, I have, in the past, carried a very close relation to them. The sort of relation that you may be quite familiar with,” he looked to Celestia.
“As a leader of your people?” Luna queried.
“That would be closer to the truth. But at this point in time, I would consider myself to be more of an envoy, or a diplomat. It is somewhat complicated,” he shrugged plaintively.
Dornier continued. “From the way you say that, it sounds like your relation to the armed forces of your people seems to have been closer than you let on. I am curious though. Have you seen war before?”
“Yes.”
“I see. Would you care to elaborate?”
“I am happy to talk about many things, but this is one subject I prefer not to discuss lightly.”
Dornier nodded.
“I apologize for the intrusion, but I would like ask something of a simpler nature,” Celestia intoned. “Would you say that you, and your people, are peaceful?”
“I would like to say yes. This is yet another question that has many answers, but for all intents and purposes, I would say yes.”
“You did mention that you have seen war, is this not true?” Luna asked.
“It is.”
“Forgive me for asking then, but would you still describe your people as a peaceful race, in light of facing conflict?”
“This is hard to answer with a single statement. I can not speak for everyone, but I would say that we are generally good, and peace loving.”
He sighed, before continuing.
“However, I must admit that war and conflict are not something that we are only superficially acquainted. It runs quite deep, nearly defining us in some manners. It’s been said that one day we may have known an end to war, not because we grew to shun violence, but that we became too good at it.”
He smiled weakly. “Does that help to answer your question?”
The room fell into nervous paralysis for a moment.
“Ah, yes,” stated Dornier. “But perhaps we could change the subject. This is something I prefer not to discuss lightly either.”
“Have?” Celestia asked, nearly under her breath.
Behind her, the door opened slowly. Twilight returned to the table, allowing the small wooden box to levitate gently down before her.
“Ahh, Twilight, you have such impeccable timing,” Celestia softly praised.
The Interloper eyed the small aged wooden box curiously.
Luna stared at it too, eyes wide and breath drawn in sharply.
Her horn glowed slightly as she concentrated. The box was held shut by a lock with no key. Tiny rings and tumblers could be heard sliding gently within the tarnished bronze lock. After several moments it clicked, and the lid popped open slightly.
Luna backed away slightly, looking nervously back to her sister.
“It is perfectly safe, I should assure you,” she said as she gently opened the lid, revealing a dull silvery ring. “The magic imbued within this artifact was the basis for the spell which we now use to speak.”
“Ah. If we can already speak with each other, what is it for then?”
“To understand.”
The Interloper looked on with interest.
“It is my intention that Twilight Sparkle will bear this ring, as to help gain clarity into the depths of what you wish to tell her.”
“I see.”
“However,” the ring levitated into the air, just above the tip of her gleaming white horn. “I first wish to..”
She was interrupted by Luna’s hoof pressed gently against her shoulder. She looked down at her sister, who stared back fearfully into her eyes, shaking her head with gentle fervor.
“No..”
“Just once.”
“I’m afraid.”
They whispered back and forth for several moments. Luna quietly pleading for her to reconsider.
“Just once, sister.”
Luna looked to the side, lowering her head and nodding slowly.
The ring slid down Celestia’s horn, fitting snugly at the base. She contemplated it for a moment, not entirely sure of what could happen next.
“So far, so good,” she smiled. “Perhaps you could tell me..”
Her voice trailed off as she faced the Interloper. They stared at each other intently - his jovial demeanor melting into impassive sympathy, her regal and proud countenance giving way to awe and fear. Her legs began to tremble slightly as she lowered her hind quarters to the floor.
“Sister..” Luna spoke softly.
Hoof and hand shot across the table suddenly, meeting firmly in the middle. Their eyes closed as they held each other tightly, both seemingly afraid to let go. They remained clasped together for several moments longer, slowly relaxing as their grip loosened. Celestia’s trembling subsided, and they both raised their heads to regard each other once again.
“Are you okay?” they both asked of each other, with sincere concern.
“That would be my question as well, sister,” Luna deadpanned.
“Fear not, I am quite all right,” Celestia soothed. She rose up to her former stature, allowing her calm composure to return.
The Interloper drained the last of his tea, returning the cup to the saucer with an audible clink.
“I must say, that was interesting,” he stated.
“I agree,” Celestia said with a slight chuckle. “Not only do I know what a ‘firehose’ is, but now I know what it feels like to drink from one. Perhaps, I should have taken a smaller sip.” She swallowed the last half of her tea in one head-rearing gulp, before refilling each cup with a twitch of magic.
“Princess?” Twilight inquired. “Were you planning to ask our guest anything while you were using that ring?”
“I believe that we have both said enough.”
The Interloper nodded.
“Although,” Celestia pondered, “I did have one question.”
“Ahh, yes?”
“Do you recall that one plant from the forest, on the night we met? The gardener plant.”
“I believe I know the one you’re speaking of, and yes. I remember it quite well.”
“You burnt it into a crisp. Knowing you have no magic to speak of, I can only presume that you used some sort of.. ‘technology’ to do this. Can you tell me what that was?”
“Ah, yes. It was a gun.”
“A gun?” She looked puzzled for a moment. “Perhaps I can learn more about..”
*BANG*
*BANG*
*BANG*
Celestia jerked upwards three times in rapid succession, her pupils shot open, staring blankly. Her ears flared back across her head, as she stumbled backwards on her hind legs.
Laurie and Dornier rushed to her aide, steadying her as she clutched a hoof over her chest, probing expectantly for gaping wounds, but only feeling her frantic pounding heartbeat.
“What in thine name was that!” Luna exclaimed, having heard nothing.
Celestia gasped for breath, lifting her head to see the Interloper before her - with one hand pressed to her shoulder, reassuringly.
“I must apologize if that startled you. I truly did not intend or expect you to react like that.”
“React to what?” Luna asked hotly.
“Sister, before I grow tired of saying this, I am still okay!” Celestia exclaimed between deep breaths.
She stood slowly, and returned to the table. With a quick shudder, she lowered her head, and flicked the ring with her hoof back into the small wooden box.
Twilight stared at the small unassuming silvery ring with visible trepidation. She looked up to Celestia, uncertain about the prospect of accepting such a powerful artifact.
Celestia turned to the Interloper quickly.
“You did not bring that with you, I should hope.”
“No. I did not feel it would be appropriate, or welcome here.”
“Thank you.”
She turned back to Twilight.
“Are you willing to accept this?” She said, sliding the box in front of her.
Twilight gulped hesitantly. “Are you sure I should have this? I mean, well, you..”
“I am fine, my little pony. And you will be too. No physical harm will come from this,” she tapped the box.
Twilight looked at it again, before turning her confused gaze back to Celestia.
“I would trust no other pony to handle this. It will require wisdom, care, and responsibility - all traits that I know you hold in great measure.”
Twilight nodded slowly.
“Should I try it?” she asked.
“Go ahead. Just be careful.”
The ring levitated slightly at the behest of Twilight’s glowing horn. She was interrupted briefly by the tap of one polished azure hoof on her shoulder.
“Please, Twilight Sparkle. Do be careful,” Luna whispered.
Emboldened, she thrust her horn upwards, feeling the ring slide down firmly to the base. Nothing felt out of place, though she felt another presence within the room. Looking to the Interloper, the ring tingled her mind slightly, as if she could sense the well oiled ticking of many thoughts flowing at once.
“So far, so good,” she quietly spoke.
“Does it feel all right?” the Interloper asked.
Twilight nodded, looking back to the otherworldly visitor. The questions racing through her mind parted way for one more pressing than any other. Feeling her thoughts intertwine with the Interloper’s mind, she wordlessly put forth her request.
Who are you?
The response came back the same - not as any spoken message or coherent thought. Just as a feeling that manifested itself as two sentences burning brightly in her mind.
Emperor of a thousand suns.
Death of a million worlds.
She gasped, focusing on the smiling face sitting across the table. She tried to peer into his mind a second time, asking the same question, but was met by only a quiet thrumming.
“Oh, that was interesting,” the Interloper exclaimed. “It felt as if you were asking what I was called, or what my name was - I’m not quite sure which.”
“Yes..” Twilight answered shakily.
“Well, you can call me Trent. Pleased to meet you..”
“Twilight. Twilight Sparkle.”
“Ahh, yes.”
Further introductions were made, placing names to the faces that Trent had learned over the past day. The conversation shifted to more pleasant subjects, skirting away from topics that only invited more questions.
Before long, the tea had dwindled to droplets, much like the last grains of sand through an hourglass. As such, the meeting drew to a close. Much to the welcome relief of the two recipients of the enormous teapot normally reserved for Canterlot Palace staff meetings.
"I believe that wraps everything up. I would like to thank everypony, and every person, for attending."
"Yes. I feel it was very productive as well. Perhaps we will have time for more of these meetings in the future."
Every pony in the room groaned inwardly, save for Celestia and Trent. They lived for this sort of bureaucratic bliss.
"We will be out shortly," she concluded.
The room emptied quietly, leaving the two facing each other across the table. As the double doors clicked shut, they nodded to each other.
"I feel you have something more to say."
"Yes."
"Ask away."
"The gardener plant, you recall.."
"Yes."
"How did you know."
"Call it a lucky guess, I suppose."
"You landed almost right on top of it. How did you know where to find her?"
"Applejack, you mean?" The name sounded strange from his mouth, almost as if it were a foreign pronunciation.
"Yes. Applejack."
"Well.. I do have exceptionally good hearing while wearing that suit. Perhaps that.."
The glare from the gleaming white alicorn suggested a different answer was needed.
Trent sighed. "I do not wish to lie, as I deeply value our new friendship. And I consider myself to be an honest man by nature. But this is something that I can not tell you. I will let Applejack know everything, when she asks, and when she is ready."
Strangely, the pronunciation was perfect this time.
"I should not have to let you know that it puzzles me greatly."
"I know. It must be disturbing to consider the possible implications. But let us treat this as one of the many subjects that should not be broached until we both understand each other better. In due time, but not right now."
She nodded reluctantly.
"One more thing. Twilight seemed a bit.. shocked earlier. What did she ask of you, and what did you tell her?"
"It may have been a slight miscommunication. She asked what I am named, but she learned what I am called. It is not a title I wear proudly, and I shall leave it at that."
"I see."
The interloper shook his head.
"Someday you might see, but I would hope that it never comes to that."
“From any other, I might take offense. But from what little I know of you now, I will trust your judgement.”
“Thank you. Truly. From what we’ve shared, I feel as if we have much in common. But that is not the only reason why I have revealed certain things to you. Secrets that I would tell no other soul.”
He slumped forward on the table slightly, as if the weight of the world were suddenly felt upon his shoulders. His head sank into his cupped hands as Celestia leaned forward, rubbing one hoof across his back.
“You are kind..”
“I feel that is exactly what you need.”
Trent looked up, smiling weakly. “This really is a beautiful place.”
They hugged each other briefly, their firm embrace going beyond any trivial formality.
“Will you be staying?”
“Absolutely, yes.”
Celestia smiled warmly.
“Are there others, like you?”
Trent was taken aback slightly, as if not entirely sure how to answer.
“Many.”
“Will they be coming here?”
“I.. can’t answer that,” he sighed. “No, no. Don’t take that the wrong way, this is not me being secretive. I simply do not know.. and if I did know, I am not sure how I would feel about it myself.”
Catching her puzzled reaction, he continued, “In good time, Princess. We may both know the answer in good time.”
“I see,” she sighed.
“Hmm.. if you don’t mind, could I ask you a slightly personal question?”
“Go ahead.”
“Ah, do people, er, ponies.. or you in particular, normally drink that much tea in one sitting?”
She laughed softly. “No, never. Although I’ve been tempted to ask you the same thing.”
Trent nodded.
“Would you know..”
“Out the door, down the hall, second door on the left.”
“Thank you!”
They shook once again, hand to hoof, before departing in their separate ways at an urgent pace.
* * *
Some time later, Celestia returned to her private chamber. She opened the door to see Luna waiting impassively.
“Finally. What has taken thee so long?”
“My private discussion with our guest?”
“Nay. In there,” Luna gestured impatiently with one hoof. “It sounded like you started a shower.”
“Oh..” Celestia blushed slightly. “No, no. Nothing of the sort.”
Luna looked on, still puzzled.
“Did you try the tea?” she asked helpfully.
Before Luna could answer, a certain mental connection was made.
“Aaaauughhh!” she stated, slapping one indigo haired foreleg over her eyes.
“Oh stop that. Is this going on your list of ‘Troublesome and ghastly noises emanated by my fairer and much more gracious older sister’?” she asked mockingly.
“No, sister. For now, it would need a book to contain it!”
“Why you little..”
“Enough!” Luna exclaimed. “We have a serious matter to discuss.”
Celestia marched across the room, rolling her eyes with a force that only a goddess could conjure. She flopped across the bed, legs and wings splayed in all directions across the taut velvety sheets.
“Is this about Twilight?”
“Indeed. I cannot fathom why you seemingly thrust her into this. Are you truly confident in her well being, whilst bearing that ring?”
“She will be fine.”
“Thine self certainly did not seem fine earlier!”
“What you saw was not the ring’s doing. I do not fear it. I fear.. him,” her voice became much quieter.
Luna studied her sister carefully.
“Is he dangerous?”
“No, it’s not that. I bear no ill will towards him, and I can feel that he is good by nature. But there is a certain potency about him that I feel humbled before. I know that he is not old, not nearly a match to our collective millennia of life, but in our brief moments together, whereby he willingly bore open the chronicles of his past to me, I could feel something different.”
“Why, then?”
“He needs our help.”
“Help? He has come from what unforeseen land to seek our charity?”
“No, sister. Help not borne from our hooves, but from our hearts.”
“He needs a friend? I find your explanations increasingly tenuous.”
“Listen,” Celestia’s eyes bore a severe finality. “Before today, I have never known of another soul like his. I have felt his life, from the time when it must have burned brighter than the sun, until now, as a cold dying ember in my hoof. We must hold and kindle that spark, for I do not wish to see what will become of him when it sputters into ashes!”
Luna cocked one eye at her sister, puzzled by the sudden outburst.
“I have not seen you this distressed in some time, sister. I feel as if your insistence behind Twilight’s new role now bears a greater importance than simply learning about the ways of our visitor.”
Celestia nodded.
“Do you remember, when you said that the artifact could allow one to read a mind, as if it were a book?”
“Verily. Tell me, as I follow this analogy, what did you read that has you feeling so overwhelmed?”
“Bloody hell, that took forever!” Laurie hissed under his breath.
Dornier simply shrugged in begrudged agreement.
“Why haven’t they come out yet?” Twilight asked, as she tucked the small wooden box into her saddlebag. “Do you think they’re still talking in there?”
Luna turned to Twilight. “I would expect nothing less at this point. For I know my sister is keen of perception, and sharp of wit. Certainly she has her own questions to ask, for she knows that some pieces to this puzzle do not fit.”
Twilight giggled slightly. “For a moment there, you sounded like Zecora.”
“And you, young Twilight. Thy innocent mirth bears similar to the mewling of a lamb before the altar.”
Twilight was taken aback by Luna’s annoyed response.
“Um... altar?”
“You know not, the gods of yore. Be forever grateful,” she spoke evenly. “But know this, my concern for you runs deep, in light of this endeavour.”
“Because of this?” she nodded her head towards the bag hanging from her side.
“It is no trinket,” Luna stated. “I dare say I am still not comfortable with you, or any pony, bearing such power, but you have my sister’s trust, and I am not wont to question her judgement. However, I must impart upon you the gravity of this seemingly inconsequential weight that you now bear.”
“I, understand, Princess.”
“Nay, do not allow thy comfortable grasp of thine own domain to lend thee false confidence. A calm sea may conceal unfathomable depths, or the lurking of terrible denizens, yet only impart feelings of peaceful tranquility. Do not simply be careful. Remain careful.”
“Well, can you tell me anything about it? Anything helpful?”
Luna sighed, shaking her head slightly.
“I am afraid that I can not be too forthcoming, dear Twilight. It pains me to leave you ignorant of the past history of the artifact, but to reveal it completely would only tempt that history to repeat itself.”
Dornier muttered several words with a solemn whisper, far too low for any other pony to hear. Luna shared a glance with the old soldier, and nodded in turn.
“I might imagine our guest has felt the same way, in responding to some such questions. No doubt there has been sly concealment of the truth. But whether it plays to his benefit, or ours, is what troubles me.”
Twilight thought back briefly, to the single thought she gleaned from the Interloper’s mind.
“Luna? Does the ring ever lie?”
“Nay, Twilight. It’s clarity is a blessing and a curse, for it will only tell the complete truth. Why?”
Twilight stayed silent for several moments, before softly responding.
“No reason.”
Luna sighed, staring at the closed doors.
“I recall my sister telling me of an enchantment placed upon the ring. A limitation of its use.”
Twilight nodded. “Yes, it should only work on him.”
“Just him?”
“Ahh...” Twilight thought for a moment. “I think so. I’m not sure if it means just him, or just those like him. But he’s the only one, right?”
“Once again, thine faith does not readily lend reassurance.” Luna furrowed her brow.
“Twilight.”
“Yes, Princess?”
“Allow me this once.”
“What... what do you wish to do?”
“An experiment.”
Twilight nodded, still confused. With a flare of Luna’s magic, the small wooden box deftly rose from her saddlebag, opening in mid air, leaving the dull ring floating before her polished indigo horn.
Dornier stiffened his back, but bowed respectfully before Luna.
“Be careful this time, Princess.”
Luna acknowledge the request with a slight nod, knowing full well the depth of the statement. The ring slipped down her horn with a certain familiarity, resting snugly at the base.
“Hmmm...” she contemplated. She turned from the door, levelling her horn at each pony in turn, wielding the ring with fierce inquisition. Dornier flinched slightly, turning his head from her brief focused gaze.
Their thoughts remained silent.
“It appears that her handiwork has succeeded admirably. Know well that I still have my fears about this matter, but I may rest somewhat easier with this in your capable hooves, Twilight Sparkle.”
“Thank you, Princess,” Twilight replied. She levitated the box before Luna, holding it expectantly.
She looked down at the rough hewn container, reluctantly bringing her hoof up to her horn. She paused for a moment, turning to look back at the double doors.
The ring tingled slightly against her skull.
“A copper bit for thy thoughts...” she whispered softly.
Her head dipped gently, waving her horn towards the door. It was not but a moment later that she recoiled violently, rearing into the air with her wings flapping in alarm. The tips of her hind hooves scratched the floor in swift retreat.
“Princess!” they shouted in hushed voices.
Luna dropped back to the floor unsteadily. Her hoof hooked behind the ring, and flung it towards the wall with as much force as she could muster.
“Are you okay!” Twilight urged. “Did you... ask him anything?”
Luna stayed speechless for a short while, shaking her head and shuddering with disgust.
“Nay child. I asked nothing. I only saw.”
“Saw what?” Laurie asked, breathlessly.
“Only that which I will bear to my grave,” she growled.
Twilight gulped. Luna’s tone was suddenly more frightening than her botched wake-up call from a few hours prior.
The ring and the box shot into the air, one forcefully thrust within the other. The lock’s mechanism clicked loudly, as it descended before Twilight.
“This is now yours to possess. Guard it, and thine self, well.”
“Yes, Princess,” Twilight nodded firmly, as the box tucked itself back within her bag.
“Captains.”
“Yes, your Majesty,” Laurie and Dornier said at once, coming to attention before her.
“Lancaster. You are no doubt familiar with you mission. You will watch over our guest.”
Laurie nodded, before saluting, and stepping back.
“Dornier. I task thee once again. You will watch over Miss Sparkle, and her artifact. I grant thee whatever means necessary to ensure their safe keeping.”
“Yes, your Majesty,” he repeated, with a slow and deliberate salute. “Shall I make ready to depart for Ponyville?”
“No. Thou shalt remain here. We do not wish to place undue attention where it may draw more prying eyes. Our guest is no secret. The ring is."
"Understood."
The three ponies shared a quick glance, breathing a small sigh of relief at the prospect of limited mandatory socialization.
Dornier looked to Twilight, and back to Luna.
“Princess, if I might ask, how exactly am I to keep watch?”
“Allow me but a moment, Captain.”
Luna trotted over to the hastily relocated stationary desk, pulling out a single sheaf of paper, and two envelopes. The paper hovered just inches over the desk, as Luna bore the quill against it. In place of ink, a blinding spark shot from the quill’s tip, etching a several glowing runes of a long-past language into the clean white parchment.
As she finished, the paper rose into the air, and burst into swirling green fog at the touch of her horn. The glowing aether split into two smaller clouds, each funneled into the two open envelopes. The paper flaps closed, and sealed with a small electrifying flash.
“Take this,” she spoke to Twilight, as one letter drifted lazily towards her. The second envelope floated back to Dornier. “If you find yourself in dire need, then do not hesitate to open this, and help will arrive shortly.”
“What does the letter say?” Twilight asked curiously.
“Exactly what needs to be said.”
Twilight nodded again, tucking the envelope into her satchel, next to the small wooden box.
The four ponies found themselves facing the door again, expectantly awaiting the return of Trent and Celestia.
"Princess, what do you think about him?" Twilight asked.
“That remains to be seen.”
“He does seem to be a pretty decent fellow,” Laurie offered.
“Formidable,” Dornier contemplated in his own manner of respect.
“He does seem very intelligent,” Twilight continued. “I imagine the greatest scholars of Equestria would give anything to hear what he might be saying in there!”
Just then, the door opened swiftly, conveying the urgency of the hands that pushed it.
“Ah, hello!” Trent blurted to the assembled ponies. “Say, Laurie... right? It’s the second door on the left down this hall?”
“Uhh... what?”
“Does the phrase ‘like a racehorse’ mean anything to you?”
“Oh... Ooooohh... Yes, follow me!” They broke into a quick run.
“Sorry about the language,” Trent apologized to Twilight as he hurried past.
Twilight stood speechless, again. Her hanging jaw and wide eyes working together in perfect harmony to express shocked incredulity.
“Um... Wait for me!” she cried, as she galloped after them.
“Whaaat?” Laurie and Trent shouted in unison.
“I don’t knoooow!” she cried, pondering the meaning of her previous statement with mortified embarrassment, as she raced around the corner.
The three were nearly gone from sight.
Dornier shouted after them. “Lancaster! I hereby order you not to bring that damned field manual within fifty paces of a bathroom!”
A slightly mumbled response was heard, followed by a shout of “Sir!” Had his words been any louder, the paint would have cracked and peeled from the palace walls. Fortunately, the only collateral damage from Laurie’s weapons-grade retort were the ears of a young purple pony.
The double doors finally creaked shut, leaving Luna and Dornier alone together. She sidled next to him, as they both stared off into empty space. Not as Princess and Captain, but as two soldiers facing the interminable unknowns hinted by the rays of dawn breaking over a battlefield.
“Judgement. Inquisition. War. That is what I heard, was it not?”
Dornier nodded quietly.
She sighed. “I do apologize if I frightened you.”
He shook his head. “No, no. It’s different this time. I trust you are doing the right thing.”
Dornier turned to look at Luna briefly.
“It’s good to have you back.”
She nodded gently, placing a hoof next to his.
“Hmm... A set of crossed quills,” Luna remarked. “I should suppose that our new Captain’s mark bears the truth. He does seem to have a way with words.”
Dornier rolled his eyes, with noticeable purpose.
“Captain,” she said with a small grin. “Doth my ears sense the tinge of envy?”
His answer came as a drawn out sigh.
“I do feel that my sister’s field promotion was not without warrant. Just as I remain satisfied with my decision to grant thine own rank in the same manner, so long ago. Do you still remember?”
“I do remember it clearly. Gah... Thank you as well, my Princess, for dredging up memories of myself at his young and stupid age.”
“I find it surprising that thou hast not proceeded further since we last worked alongside. Many of thine contemporaries have long since adorned their sashes with the emblems of leadership, or returned to the green pastures of their formative years. Yet you have stayed as a humble captain, despite having a record that commands its own filing cabinet. Why, if I may ask?”
Dornier gestured to the crossed blades adorning his flank.
“My place is not one of comfort, your Majesty. I will not forget what appears to be my calling in life.”
“Mm. You need not bear such formality, for I already know the depth of your respect, Little Darling.”
“Now that is not a name I have been called in quite some time. Please, do feel honored that you remain the only one to remember it.”
Luna giggled slightly, elbowing Dornier with a wink.
“Since my return, I have not once seen you wearing the armor afforded by your rank. Thou were inseparable from it, so many ages ago.”
Dornier snorted derisively. “I shall wear it, when it is needed, and only then. The rest of these,” He stumbled for a moment, paring back the venom from his words. “toy soldiers. They hide behind their polished plates as a foal behind its mother’s legs.”
“Hmmm,” she smiled. “Polished plates never seemed to be your style. I imagine that if I were to inspect the breastplate tucked away in your quarters, it would still bear every dent, scratch, and bloodstain from so many years hence.”
“I never was good with such formalities,” he smirked.
They sighed together, continuing to gaze at the far wall.
“Do you think Laurie is cut out for his task?” Her voice fell slightly flat.
“Hmm? Well... I believe he will make a fine officer some day. But the time to prove himself has yet to come.”
“And this troubles you?”
“It does. I feel his time will be coming, soon.”
Luna nodded.
“Princess. Could I ask of you, what you saw earlier?”
Luna shuddered.
“For you, but a hint. Are you familiar with a certain pony, tan in color, and rustic of nature?”
“Does she wear a cowgirl hat?”
“Applejack, yes.”
“Ahh. I think I may have ran into her this morning. Why?”
Luna started to speak, but held her tongue.
“No reason... But I do feel relieved that you have witnessed her to be in good health.”
“Well... there might have been some bruises,” Dornier admitted.
Luna cocked an eye at the Captain.
“I feel the depiction of your encounter may have been more literal than I expected.”
“Eeeeyup!” Dornier softly bellowed, with a trace of mockery.
She sighed, giggling slightly.
“I bid the well once again, Little Darling. For now we must pursue our separate ways.”
“Rule Equestria. Rule these lands. Forge thy will as such our Princess commands,” Dornier smiled as he uttered the first lines of the long forgotten battle hymn. “Fare thee well, Princess.”
“Thine self as well, Captain.”
* * *
The sticky sweet confectionery carnage was nearly cleaned, and Sugarcube Corner had returned to some semblance of normalcy.
“Need a hoof with anything else there, Pinkie?” Applejack asked of her friend.
“Nope, I think we got it all. Thanks for the help!”
“Ohh, you’re welcome,” Fluttershy managed with a small broom clenched between her teeth. “We’re always here to help.”
“I know it. Unlike Some. Other. Ponies!” Pinkie said with a huff, turning her nose up towards the door. “I just can’t believe the nerve of that guy!”
“Are you okay? He ran into you pretty hard!”
Pinkie nodded, rubbing her bruised side.
“He got me twice, sugarcube. Darn fella couldn’t make up his mind if he was a coming or a going.”
“That other pony seemed a lot nicer at least.” Pinkie mused.
“Oh yeah, now that you mention it,” Applejack puffed up with pride. “Ah might just be a lil bit famous. That feller Raines says I’m going to be in a story he’s writing for that newspaper of his.”
“Don’t forget about me, Sis!” Applebloom shouted as the Cutie Mark Crusaders made a beeline for the door. “I’m bettin them northern Lanshire folks are gonna be slack jawed six ways from Sunday when they read about my brave an heroic adventure! Why, I bet they’ll think I’m bravest pony this side of the Dragon Mountains!”
“Oh you are so full of... Wait up a minute now, where's y’all headed?”
The trio stopped in their tracks, bristling with excitement.
“Rainbow Dash is gonna show us how she caught Scootaloo! Cutie Mark Crusader Stunt Doubles! Yay!”
“Uhh...” she rubbed her temples - partially from the noise, partially from the stupid.
“Hah, eh, yeah,” Dash admitted sheepishly. “They kinda twisted my wing into this. Don’t worry though, I’ll keep an eye and a pair of hooves on em the whole time. Heh. Who knows, I might turn this into a routine at the next Cloudesdale Young Flyers competition.”
They shared a glance, their matched expressions briefly conveying a sincere severity befitting those several times their age.
“Stayin outta the forest?”
“Nowhere near it.”
“Well, y’all have fun then.”
Applejack sighed deeply as they departed. Pinkie and Fluttershy had started their own conversation near the racks of pies and apple crisps. Their fervent exchange suggested that something big was afoot. Pinkie talked about parties in the same manner that other ponies would discuss world domination.
“Miss Applejack?”
“Oh, hey there Sweetie Belle. What can I do fer ya?”
“Um...”
“Better spit it out quick, or you’re gonna be late with your friends there, sugarcube.”
“I just had a question. Do you remember last night, when you met... him?”
Applejack looked embarrassed for a moment, remembering quite clearly. A nervous smile broke out as she tried to maintain her composure.
“Well, I remember it pretty well. Shoot, lotsa things happened that night, come to think of it. Wasn’t nopony that saw us, er, I mean... Getting lifted up like that... Um... Oh, hey! How’s that flank feeling there?”
Sweetie Belle continued to stare. Something more serious was on her mind.
“It’s fine, thank you.”
“Umm... Well yes. I did meet him. And nothing else happened!” she added quickly.
“Applejack?”
“Yes?”
“How did he know?”
“Huh? The big fella?”
“Raines. How did he know?”
“Ohh,” she pondered for a moment. “Well, I guess word travels fast around here. I’m sure it’s nothing Sweetie. Time for you to skedaddle now. Go on and get some sun and fresh air.”
Sweetie Belle left, still worried.
Applejack was left worried as well.
“Horsefeathers.” she muttered, before returning to Fluttershy and Pinkie.
* * *
The carriage streaked across the sky at a leisurely pace, overlooking the pastel yellows and earthy tones of the Whitetail Woods. Trent smiled as he leaned over the side, enjoying the wind in his hair, and the serene vista of the lands below. The pegasi team had long since grown numb to the breathtaking sights, in their many routine trips over the kingdom.
Twilight sat perplexed in the back of the carriage. Her mind bore a question that she did not dare answer herself.
“Excuse me, Officer Laurie?”
“Oh hello. We should be there in another fifteen minutes, I believe.”
Twilight shook her head. “Thank you, but I had a different question.”
“Oh?”
“Well... It’s something you said earlier. It’s not really possible, is it?”
“Ehm, what?”
“Well, you know. What you said to that other guard earlier.”
Laurie’s eyes suddenly grew wider.
“That’s not really possible, is it? To have... Um... it, go in one end, and out the other?”
“Umm, no no... Just a figure of speech really!”
“I mean, can that even work? Or even losing ‘that’,” She looked aside while mentioning the unmentionable. “if it’s going through from the other direction?”
It was Laurie’s turn to be mortified to the point of physical ailment. Even Trent turned around to gawk at the utterly clueless discussion of depravity.
Suddenly her brain caught up to her mouth, throttling her vocal cords until a high pitched “Nevermind!” squeaked out.
Curiosity. It’s a hell of a drug.
The three remained silent for the next fifteen minutes.
“And then, after the livestock races, we can herd them into pens to make a petting zoo!”
“I see,” Fluttershy said, between sips of tea.
“So that makes two more staging areas, one for the musical instruments, and another for the hay and feed. We can’t use the hoist for moving the hay bales though, because that’s already going to be used by the flying platform for the barbershop quartet with pyrotechnic launchers.”
“Mmm hmm.”
“But I was thinking that the ponies on hay bale duty could also dress up in a parade style dragon costume! Won’t that be so exciting!”
Pinkie raced around the kitchen area on her hind legs, growling and hissing, as her forehooves swiped at the air in front of her.
“Ohh, my.”
“And that comes out to fifty-eight silver bits so far, with the singing quartet, pyrotechnics, dragon costume, and hay feed. Add that to the catering, dunk tank, bouncy castle, face painting booth, tightrope lessons, along with everything else I mentioned before, and we’re looking at...”
“Howdy y’all,” Applejack interjected.
Fluttershy had never been so relieved to see her friend.
“Oooh, you made me loose count!” Pinkie wailed. “But don’t worry about that! I simply have to tell you EVERYTHING that’s going on!”
“What now?”
Pinkie’s smile spread from ear to ear, locking her jaw in place.
“Go on, tell her, Fluttershy!”
“Umm... Well...”
“Yes?”
“Pinkie was telling me all about her idea...”
“Is she throwing a party?”
“Yes! That’s exactly what I’m planning.” Pinkie threw her hooves into the air, releasing twin bursts of powdered sugar.
Applejack rolled her eyes. “Lucky guess there.”
“Fluttershy said she could help me get everything ready. Would you like to help too?” Pinkie blinked her eyelids sweetly, attempting to draft yet another unfortunate soul in thrall to her diabolical scheme.
“Uhh, when are you thinking about having this little shindig?”
“Tomorrow night, if we all work together!”
Fluttershy stopped midway through her sip of tea. Her eyes shot open wide as she expelled the hot dark liquid with enough force to aerosolize her drink into a very fine mist. If tea vapor had a lower explosive limit, Sugarcube Corner would have been levelled.
“That seems like it’s kinda short notice,” Applejack remarked, judging by Fluttershy’s reaction of atavistic terror.
“Maybe just a little,” Pinkie conceded. “I still need to find a place to host everything.”
“Hmm... Wait up a second now. I think I might have just the thing for ya.”
Pinkie’s eyes lit up as she placed her hooves on Applejack’s shoulders.
“You know where I can find a top hat, bow tie, and monocle that can fit on an elephant?” She squealed with excitement.
“Ah, no, not that."
"Because I already have the cumberbund."
"Hold up a sec, Pinkie. This party is for our new guest, right?”
“Well, who else!” she danced on her hind hooves. “Actually, there is that other guest that was in here this morning as well. Hmm. Looks like I’ll be planning two parties.”
Fluttershy appeared to be in a state of distress, as if she were suddenly choking on air.
“Whoa there nelly, lets take this one step at a time. You need a place for this party, and I reckon you could use a few more days to get ‘er all ready.”
“Go on...”
“Well, it just so happens that we’re having a little get together over at Sweet Apple Acres next week. You know the one we have every year about this time?”
“The annual Apple Family Pie-Eatin Cider-Drinkin Belch-a-thon Contest?”
“None other,” she said with a grin. “Think we can kill two birds with one stone here, instead of tryin to organize em both separately.”
“Hmmm.. Oooh, that would be perfect!” Pinkie exclaimed. “Are you sure it won’t be too much to ask?”
“Ohh, I wouldn’t mind a bit! Love to help make that big fella feel welcome here,” Applejack responded, suddenly more excited about the prospect of a party than Pinkie had been, if that could be believed.
“You’re the best, Applejack!” Pinkie shouted as she threw her forelegs around her. “But there are still a few things that have to be worked out.”
“Like what?”
“Catering, for starters.”
“I thought that was your speciality there Pinkie. Well, I know we can help whip up a batch of pies, fritters, and cobblers, easy enough.”
“Nope, that’s not the problem. What about our guest?”
“Uhh... well I’m sure he ain’t gonna object to anything we make.”
“Anything we make?” She exclaimed. “No, no, no. The problem is we have to make something special just for our guest! It can’t just be anything!”
“And how is that going to be a problem? We’ve got all week to take care of it now.”
Pinkie gasped. “You’re right! Ohh, thank you Applejack. You know I’d go crazy some days if it wasn’t for you.”
“Ehhh... Yeah.” She reluctantly agreed.
“So now that we have enough time to make everything, there’s still the problem of carrying it out to the farm. I know the cake is going to weigh a ton by itself!”
“What now? Just how many ponies are we trying to feed here?”
“I didn’t say anything about ponies. Here, let me show you!”
Pinkie reached into a cabinet and pulled out a heavy burlap sack. She dumped it onto the counter, letting nearly a dozen small irregularly shaped metal disks spill out with a loud clatter. Each iron disk appeared as if it had been cast in the form of a chocolate chip cookie.
“Voila! Just for our guest! I asked Stampy Steel, the blacksmith, to make this batch just this morning!”
“Pinkie Pie.”
“Yes!”
“Just what is it exactly do you think the big fella likes to eat?”
“Well duh... He’s made out of metal! Therefore, I can only postulate that he comes from a world where everything is metal. Maybe not even a world at all! If a star were to eventually burn itself out, and leave nothing but a hot core of degenerate matter with a surface of heavy metals floating on top, that could be where he’s from! Oooh, wouldn’t that be exciting! He might even feel like he could fly here, given how much lighter everything would be! And maybe he can see with X-rays too, because all other forms of in-falling light would be blue-shifted towards the high energy end of the spectrum!”
Applejack and Fluttershy winced painfully.
“And, based on all that gobbledygook, you think that he eats...”
“Metal.”
“Arrrghhh... Pinkie, did it not occur to you that he was here, just this morning? And he didn’t eat the silverware for breakfast.”
“Whaaat? When was he here?”
“He was with that other officer pony - the first one that you scared away with your stupid mountain of cupcakes.”
“You mean that tall mostly hairless monkey thing in a wool suit that could balance itself on two legs?”
“One and the same.”
“Then that metal thing...”
“Was him, wearing some kinda suit of armor.”
“So he...”
“Probably won’t eat these!” Applejack slapped her hoof down on the pile of cast iron cookies with high carbon steel chips.
“Oooohh... Well that explains a few things,” Pinkie pondered aloud. “I was wondering who that other guy was.”
The sound of two ponies smacking their foreheads echoed loudly throughout Sugarcube Corner.
“Heh. Guess that cake probably would weigh a ton.” Applejack muttered to herself.
Pinkie’s eyes shot wide and her jaw dropped.
“Be right back, girls!” She shot out of the kitchen, burst through the door, and galloped frantically in the direction of Stampy’s blacksmithery.
It was a few moments before either of them spoke.
“Fluttershy, If I ever do something that dumb, promise me that you’ll be there for me. That you’ll do the right thing. That you’ll pull the plug.”
“Umm.” She looked aside nervously.
Applejack chuckled. “Hey now, I’m just kiddin ya.”
“Oh, no, it wasn’t that. I was just thinking about something.”
“Oh?”
“Well... It’s about this party.”
“Yes?” Applejack prepared herself for another game of twenty questions.
“Umm... Do you think he’ll be there too?”
“Who?” she said, rolling her eyes. “Oh wait a sec, do you mean that officer pony that was covered in mud and leaves last night?”
“Yes! That’s him!” Fluttershy beamed.
“Reckon he might. He’s new around these parts though, so he’d probably need an invitation to even know when an where it’ll be at”
“Oh, Umm... About that.”
Applejack sighed. “Fluttershy, do you want me to go and find that pony and invite him to the annual Apple Family Pie-Eatin Cider-Drinkin Belch-a-thon contest that’s set to take place next week?”
“Oh! Yes!” Fluttershy barely finished her response before she clutched Applejack in her forelegs and flew upwards, spinning them around in a tight circle.
“I mean.. I would appreciate that, if you would invite him.” She said bashfully, as they settled back to the floor.
“Uhh... You’re welcome.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Fluttershy exclaimed. “I’ll see you later!”
“Oh, wait, Fluttershy!”
“Yes?”
“Ahh...” She turned her head slightly, looking down at her hooves. “Would you wanna see about letting the big fella know too?”
“Oh, I think I could do that...” Her brow furrowed in a manner that could only be described as ‘gracefully’. “But I don’t know if he can speak our language.”
“Oooh... Almost forgot about that.”
“But I’ll see what I can do!”
* * *
"I'm still not sure how you're doing that," Twilight remarked.
"Hmm? What's that?"
"Well, you only have two legs. You would need at least three to remain stable."
Trent rolled his eyes with a wry grin. “Well who’s to say that... Ahh, never mind.”
“To say what?” She inquired.
“Well here we are!” Laurie announced loudly, interposing himself between the two. This left Twilight slightly confused, as the carriage had rolled to a stop several minutes ago.
“Right then!” Trent exclaimed in agreement, as he hopped from the carriage. He landed with the practiced grace of a cat leaping from a balcony, his boots chalking up yet another firm contact with a strange new world.
“Now that’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Twilight said as she stepped out of the carriage. “Two legs just aren’t stable, and you should have fallen straight over into the dirt. Augh... And how are you even doing THAT?”
“Doing what?” Trent asked, as he hopped in place on one foot.
“Never mind...” she sighed with exasperation.
Laurie briefly attempted to mimic Trent, rising up on his hind hooves, wobbling unsteadily. The pegasi coach team rolled their eyes until he stopped.
“You are right, you know. Two legs are pretty unstable.”
“Huh? Then why aren’t you falling over?”
“I can balance perfectly fine, so long as the weight of my body is directly over my legs. But any other time, I am falling. I simply fall in the direction I wish to go.”
Trent started walking towards Twilight, freezing abruptly mid-stride, and awkwardly stumbling forward. He caught himself at the last moment, returning to a normal gait.
“Ohh... I see.”
“You seem to have a natural instinct to question everything. That’s good. Some people, or some ponies, would be content to accept a simple explanation, and never give it another thought. Don’t worry if you get confused though. Discovery and understanding are not always quick or easy.”
“It still does look kind of strange,” she remarked while watching Trent shuffle around. “Do you think it would be better to have four legs?”
“Naah... These two work just fine for me. And sometimes, I don’t even need them!”
“Okay... Wait, what?”
“I’ll tell you later. But don’t be fooled by these. They’re the fine product of millions of years of trial and error.” Trent gestured towards his body, from head to toe.
Twilight’s jaw dropped for a moment.
“You’re not really that old...”
“No, not hardly. That’s another thing I’ll explain later.”
“How fast can you run anyways,” Laurie asked. “I’d imagine that four legs would give you a bit more power than just two.”
“Ahh, now that’s a good question. While I might say reasonably fast, the more interesting question is how far I can run.”
He paused a moment, basking in the silence before continuing.
“You see, where I come from, there are plenty of four-legged creatures that share our world. Some are dangerous, and some are relatively harmless. But we’ve got em all beat when it comes to endurance.”
“Hmm, I’ll believe that when I see it,” Laurie muttered. “Why is that important anyways?”
“To chase them down, of course.”
“Umm...” Twilight cleared her throat, not entirely sure how to respond.
“To pet them?”
“Usually just to eat them.”
There was a small moment of silence as every pony and pegasi turned to look at Trent’s smiling bared teeth.
“Anyways, speaking of which... What’s the plan for dinner? I’m starving!”
Without further ado, the pegasi drawn carriage rocketed back into the air, making haste toward Canterlot.
“Oh, okay, see you later!” Trent shouted as he waved after them. They seemed to speed up noticeably.
“So as I was saying...” He turned back to face the wide eyed purple pony.
“Wait a second, just wait a second here,” Laurie interrupted. “I’m not sure how to put this, but you don’t really look like a...” his eyes darted upwards, looking for the right word.
“Yeah, that. More or less. I mean, you don’t have any claws, huge sharp teeth, poisonous quills, or what-have-you. No acid spitting, fire breathing, or lightning bolts shooting out of your eyesockets. I mean, just how exactly would you have a go at something?”
“Ahhh. Well, claws and fangs can kill individual creatures. But this,” he tapped at his forehead, “could subjugate or annihilate an entire species!”
Laurie was silent for a moment.
“Do you hit them with it?”
“What? Gaah, no! I was trying to make a point.”
“Well I’m not seeing it.”
“This!” he pointed to his forehead again. “We make tools. We’re a species of tool makers. If we can’t bend nature to our will, then we make a tool that can do it for us.”
“And your forehead makes the tools?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”
“So it’s like a hammer?”
Trent stopped to rub his forehead, as if it had been used like a hammer. He collected himself before responding. Linguistic misunderstandings were just another challenging and unglamorous part of inter-species diplomacy.
“No. I don’t mean it that way. We simply think up any sort of device that helps us meet our needs. Whether it’s slings and stones, spears, swords, rifles, or small area effect sub-orbital clustering munitions with inherent dispersal reduction capabilities, they’re all just different ways of solving the same problem.”
“Hitting things?”
“Well... Yes.”
“By the way, that last thing you said...”
“Yes?”
“Owww...” Laurie rubbed his forehead, still throbbing from a magical migraine.
“Ahh, sorry.”
“Why would you do that?” Twilight asked, still shocked at Trent’s dietary revelation.
“Hmm... You don’t, I take it? That is interesting actually. Most of the people I come across generally do.”
‘People’ sounded odd in Twilight’s head, almost as if her definition was only a close approximation to what she heard.
“Eating others?”
“Yes. We are predators, after all. Most of us, actually.”
Twilight’s face slowly changed from shock to a mixture of fear and revulsion.
“You wouldn’t... eat us, would you?”
Trent looked genuinely surprised.
“Ohhh, no, no, no. No, no, absolutely not,” he spread his hands with his open palms facing Twilight. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
He leaned in close with a disarming grin. “But for you, maybe a just nibble.” His lips smacked together quickly before he broke into a hearty laugh.
She responded with her own nervous laughter, before pressing back with another question.
“Well, which is it?”
“Ahh, well perhaps I should explain myself a bit more clearly. When I say that I am a predator, I do not mean that I start each morning sharpening my teeth, or making plans to thin out herds of grazing animals. It simply refers to what I am, not necessarily how I act. A fair segment of the people I knew, er... know, actually abstain from eating meat whatsoever. But like it or not, they still carry that legacy of being vicious flesh eaters.”
“Some of the nicest and most caring vicious flesh eaters you’d ever meet, mind you,” he added quickly.
“They can’t all be like that, can they?”
“Afraid so, which is why I find it interesting that everyone here seems to be strictly vegetarian. Sentient civilization-building species are almost always descended from some sort of predatory ancestor.”
“What about descendants of peaceful or plant eating species?”
“They typically became lunch.”
Twilight and Laurie gulped.
“What’s more, is that they don’t face the same competitive pressures, or have access to the same protein-rich diet, as a meat-eating species. Eating all that meat tends to grow bigger brains,” he tapped at his forehead a third time. “And facing competition from other predators tends to give those brains a workout.”
“That sounds... kind of terrible,” Twilight remarked sympathetically, though still intrigued by the explanation.
“I never said it was fair. But, if it makes you feel any better, we consider it a pretty fundamental tenet of our culture that we do not go around eating other intelligent species. Just because we can does not mean that we should, and that particular line of reasoning is the crux between civilization and barbaric anarchy.”
“So you can choose not to?”
“I certainly can. I can’t say the same about every single one of my ancestors, but I can’t really fault them for their decisions either. If you go back far enough, when our species was just another breed of uncivilized animals in a world where the only way to thrive was to eat the competition, I’m glad they made that choice. Otherwise, I, or perhaps my entire species, wouldn’t be here.”
“What if they didn’t make that choice?”
“Then we would have been replaced by a slightly more vicious pack of bloodthirsty killing machines, who may or may not have developed the same sense of moral restraint. Imagine a visit from one of them.”
Twilight grimaced slightly.
“I see your point.”
“Never judge someone for who they are. Only for what they do.”
She nodded slightly, still unsure how to feel.
“Is that something you would do here?”
Trent sighed softly, rolling his eyes with a slight grin.
“Look, I’ve come to accept that I belong to a race that’s both renowned and infamous for a great many good and horrible things. I am the final link in an unbroken chain of bloodthirsty meat eaters. I have hunted down innocent creatures for my own sustenance. However, I would personally find it despicable to end the life of a creature that had the wherewithal to ask me not to.”
He paused, bending down to Twilight’s eye level.
“If it makes you happy, I can have a salad tonight.”
“You really mean all that?”
“Absolutely. But let’s not get sidetracked here. It’s starting to get late, and I am getting rather hungry.”
* * *
“Is he one of yours,” asked the grey pony.
“No.” came the emotionless reply from the small metal box.
“But he is like you.”
“Yes.”
* * *
“So you say that light and heat are both the same thing?”
“Mmmhmm,” Trent managed through a mouthful of baked potato. “Electromagnetic radiation.”
The word still felt odd inside their heads, but no longer headache inducing.
“Are there other sorts of radiation?” Laurie asked, slowly working his way through a plate of steamed carrots.
Trent simply nodded, busy chewing.
“What do the other kinds of radiation do?” Twilight asked. The meal she prepared lay mostly untouched, due to her non-stop line of questioning.
“Mmm.. usually? They lower property values.”
“What?”
“I’m only halfway kidding. The other types of radiation are typically composed of small particles - and I mean very very small things - flying off at speeds that could damage living tissue. Now that’s not so bad in small doses, but radioisotopes tend to be rather persistent at what they do. Sooo... if someplace becomes contaminated like that, you really wouldn’t want to spend a lot of time in there.”
The headaches returned, in full force.
“Ughh... I feel like I’m making more questions than answers,” she rubbed one foreleg across her weary temples.
“Mmm. Well, as they say, ‘the more you know, the more you don’t know’.”
“But where does it end? Isn’t there some point where you can catch up with all the questions and just simply understand everything?”
Trent looked thoughtful for a moment.
“Maybe. But would you really want to?”
“What do you mean?”
“If you could truly know everything, then where would the magic of discovery be? Or logical deduction, or the thrill of exploration? And what would that say about nature itself? If we could really understand it all, then what would that say about the universe we live in?”
“Umm...” Twilight struggled for an answer. She looked up suddenly, and dashed over to the nearest bookcase.
“Okay, I think I know. Look at these,” she gestured to the set of bookends at either end of the shelf.
“I see.”
“All these books between here could represent all the knowledge in the universe.”
“I should only hope that your cookbook made it in there.”
“Oh, Um... Did you like everything?” Twilight was thrown off guard for a moment, letting a shy smile creep over her face.
“Dinner was fantastic, yes. But let’s keep going with the book analogy. I think I see where you’re going with it.”
“Okay. So there’s a certain number of books. Even if I added more books, there will still only be a certain number of them, right?”
“Mmmhmm.”
“As long as there’s a set to contain them... Then they, um... They’ll be...”
“Finite.”
Twilight gasped. The concept made such perfect sense with the thought she was trying to convey, that she bounded into the air with excitement.
“Yes! That’s exactly it.”
“Which implies...”
“Um, that there could be a limit to the amount of knowledge... Or that, oh... Hmm.”
“Here, lets say that you’ve managed to read every single book in this library.”
“But I already have read every single book in this library.”
“Okay, I rest my hypothetical case. But lets say that this was it. You’ve read everything, and there’s nothing left. Now what?”
“Well, I guess there would be nothing left to read,” she pondered.
“There is that. Not to mention the idea that the universe itself had some sort of limited boundary.”
“Hmm... I think I see. Is it actually like that?”
“To the best of my knowledge, no. Either it’s infinite, or simply large enough that we could never hope to see, or understand it all.”
“Infinite?”
“Unbounded. Endless. Larger than any number, or finite set. It goes on and on forever.”
“Oh...” She paused, letting the concept sink in. “How does that make you feel actually? If you could never really live to learn everything?”
“I can accept it.”
“But it seems like you understand so much.”
“By that token, realizing the depth of what exists, compared to what I’ve learned, I must know very little.”
“Does that feel frustrating?”
“I feel it’s more humbling, actually. It is a big universe out there.”
“Oh.”
Trent finished his dinner quietly.
“Say, Twilight,” Laurie asked, “were you planning to use that ring?”
“I will soon. But first, I don’t think that I even know the right questions to ask.”
“Ah, that will come in time,” Trent offered. “Preferably, some other time. I’m about to call it a night.”
Laurie nodded in agreement.
“Yeah, I could stand to take a little nap myself. Can somepony wake me up next week?”
He found himself alone on the concourse. His shoes squeaked against the polished tile, each reflecting the shimmering flicker of the cold fluorescent bulbs overhead. The silent crash of an ocean wave was depicted through the many irregularly shaped ceramic shards, their chaotic ordering conveying a brisk dynamic image through the silent still mosaic.
It was more vivid this time. He walked aimlessly in a tight circle, taking in the scene with stark clarity. The long plate glass windows of the concourse revealed a pitch black void on either side. Nothing discernible save for the faint twinkling of so many points of light. One side of the corridor neatly melded with the other. There was no way forward. Only a interminable winding passage that lead back from where he came. This was the terminus. This was safe.
His shoes scuffed against the low pile of the well trafficked nylon carpet. It felt familiar, much like the diamond stamped steel plates or the tile mosaic that he had trod upon before. Discolorations from years of neglect and mishandled coffee cups littered the utilitarian environment.
Don’t look back.
Before him stood a glass case, mounted neatly upon a rough hewn, but well varnished wooden pedestal. A bear stood within it. Brown fur draped over a lumbering frame, two sightless glass eyes staring listlessly down the never-ending concourse. Heavy paws rested upon sculpted boulders, propping the stuffed carcass up; mercifully unaware as it gazed eternally against the harsh empty vista.
Staring into the sun would only burn your eyes. Staring down the corridor would burn your soul.
He walked around with care. It left him nervous, not as if the beast would suddenly come to life, swinging sharpened claws or lunging forward with bared teeth. But rather, instead of roaring a hostile challenge, that it would merely utter a whimper. An agonized plea.
The single path stretched out ahead. Barren beige walls and shiny plastic flooring. He stopped for a moment, to glance behind. As he turned, the corridor’s path branched off into innumerable fractal hallways, each bearing their own unique features.
The paths did not beckon to be explored. They simply bespoke the travels of others. He quickly turned back to face the concourse.
All paths lead forward. One path lead back.
He was not alone. The concourse bustled with activity. A veritable migration walking in opposition to him, eyes glazed as they stared singlemindedly down their own path, striding purposefully towards their own destination.
Each one was him.
Each path, a choice once made.
The heavy rhythmic stomp and soft hiss of hydraulics caught his attention. Amidst the crowd was him, once again. The blackened steel breech suit with the head shaped like a dragon’s skull and the crown of glowing glass eyes towered slightly over the heads of others. He looked to it, and it looked back briefly, not saying a word. The bleak countenance of the utilitarian armor did little to hide the forlorn sadness of the man inside it.
He nodded sympathetically, knowing well the weight cast over that heart. The steel clad interloper strode past him, utterly resigned with regret. That which drove him seemed to be only a tiny sliver of hope, a candle in the harsh uncaring void. A sense that wrong could be righted, even at a terrible cost.
“See you soon,” he whispered, as the heavy metallic footfalls receded behind him.
He continued down the endless corridor for some time, lost in his own listless thoughts. Every rendition of himself shuffled past silently, unwavering in their journey.
Do I have somewhere to be?
The concourse was nearly as wide as a freeway now. The crowd shuffled by at their strident pace, briskly following the path that stretched as long as the universe was old. Each fleeting lifespan touching upon a fraction of that long branching thread.
He stopped, turning around to gaze into the depths.
The universe gazed back. Myriad alternate realities, each of their own unique structure and unfathomable detail. Each pathway forged by seemingly arbitrary or inconsequential decision. The total sum of all that he was or would be. Every one of him receding to an infinitesimal point in the distance, crossing the event horizon of a future he would never know.
He saw everything.
* * *
Laurie awoke with a start. Not from any imagined nightmare or panicked sense of anxiety. A deep guttural bark from across the room sent him bolting upright.
He looked across to see Trent, sitting up and perspiring heavily.
“Are you okay?”
“Ahh... Yes. Sorry, did I wake you?”
“Just me, as far as I know. No idea about the rest of Ponyville. Dear Celestia, I didn’t know you could make noises like that!”
“Sorry. I think I was having a dream.”
“Well I don’t want to hear about it. I’m going to have enough trouble getting back to sleep already! Bloody hell. I think I know the last thing those animals must have heard before they ended up on your dinner table.”
“Eh? Oh... Not really like that actually. I’ll explain later,” he mumbled as he flopped back into bed.
Laurie sighed. “Okay. Auughhh... What in Luna’s Oceans were you actually dreaming about there?”
“I can’t even remember.”
* * *
The first rays of sunlight cast their warmth over Ponyville, greeting those who started their mornings early. The streets were still mostly bare, and the beds were still mostly full, but one small grey pegasus stood ready to meet the break of dawn.
This was her favorite time of each day. The early sun warmed the soft fur of her neck as she craned her head upwards. Her haunches rested on a thick gnarled tree root that jutted out from the base of the Ponyville Library, as her bright blonde tail absentmindedly swatted at the packed earth. Every day brought something new and different, but she enjoyed the constant familiarity of her morning ritual.
A looming shadow slowly moved across her, marked by the soft crunch of gravel under boots. She looked back to see a tall strange figure approach. A pair of eyes that would match the level of Princess Celestia’s stature gazed downward curiously. She stared back; surprised, but intrigued.
It raised one hand, palm flat with fingers gently splayed, and waved.
“Hello,” Trent said.
“Oh, hello!” she replied, happy to meet a new friend.
“That bag looks pretty heavy.”
She nodded enthusiastically. “Yep! It’s all the mail from yesterday! And I know just where to deliver it!”
“Ahh... I hope I’m not keeping you from that.”
“Nope! No problem! I’m waiting first.”
She turned back to look up into the tree. Overhead, an obscenely swollen honeybee nest buzzed with activity.
“I see. What are you waiting for?”
“To get everything right!”
“Hmm?”
“My mail route! I need to get it just right, every morning. That’s why I’m here!”
“Oh. Do you have it written down?”
She gasped slightly, shaking her head and twitching her tail against her flanks.
“Oh no, no, no... If I wrote it down, it would be... It would be always... Always the same! No, I can’t do that. It’s never the same! Never. I keep it all in here instead!” she swiped her foreleg across her head and nodded vigorously.
“That sounds very... dynamic.”
Two yellow rimmed pupils widened, each locking their gaze on Trent for a brief moment. A smile broke across her face as she nodded her head with her whole body.
“Yes! I like that word! It’s all very dynamic! Dynamic!” She hummed to herself as the new word made itself at home. Her tongue happily slathered itself over the wet matted fur around her lips, as she turned back to look at the beehive.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s so interesting about that?” he gestured towards the hive.
“They have to make deliveries too! Just like me!” She watched the bees overhead - not seeing them for individual black and yellow specks, but for their flow and direction.
“Is that why you like to watch them?”
The blonde and grey pony nodded, her eyes still tracking the Apinae swarm.
Trent stepped over the tree root, settling down next to her, and looking up as well.
“I guess they have a very dynamic route to take too,” he observed.
“Oh yes. So many routes too! So many routes! If they all flew to one field at a time, they would just get crowded! And all the pollen would be used up! All that flying would be wasted. And then...”
She turned to look at Trent, torn with worried empathy.
“They would have trouble making enough honey. They did have trouble making honey! They didn’t make enough to keep them all fed!” she began to tremble slightly, shaking her head from side to side. She sniffed slightly, holding back a tear. “Those bees aren’t here anymore. These ones are.”
Trent looked down, intrigued at the sudden outburst.
“There, there, now. It’s okay,” he stroked the fur on her back. “Here, I think I have something that might cheer you up.”
“Oh?”
He reached into the paper sack, recently procured from Sugarcube Corner. Out came a steaming hot muffin. Derpy’s eyes locked on with precision.
“Ooooh! Thank you, thank you!” she exclaimed, diving forward and biting into the cinnamon sprinkled top. Trent held his hand out, pressing back against the firm nose and greedily lapping tongue until nothing was left but a crumb-laden paper wrapper.
“You’re welcome,” he chuckled.
She smiled gratefully, before looking back up at the hive.
“So what happened to all those other bees?”
“They’re just not here anymore. Not even the others. Just these. They’re here because they’re the best bees! The very very best!”
“Because the other bees were not as good at getting pollen and making honey?”
She nodded sagely.
“Hmm... It sounds like these bees were selected... Naturally.”
She turned to look at Trent. Her ears flapped against the side of her head, as she twisted her neck, deep in contemplation. The inconsequential pairing of words seemed to allude to a hidden meaning within her mind. A subtle reference that rattled around like a nut inside of a hard burled shell. A nut that soon cracked within a vice-like grip.
She gasped with excitement.
“Yep! They’re the best bees! That’s where they came from too! Naturally too! They were naturally selected, because they’re the best!”
She looked up happily at Trent. He returned the stare, wide eyed and mildly shocked. As if he were sitting next to a lit powder keg, but held in place by an overwhelming curiosity to see what would happen when the fuse ran out.
“So why do you like watching these bees?”
“Because they know just where to go!”
“There are a lot of places they could go...”
“Mmmm, yep! But these bees know the best way to go!”
She turned to look at Trent again, smiling from ear to ear, with her tongue poking out the side of her mouth.
“They’re the best!”
“Heh. Okay, I believe you there. Do you like to watch them every day?”
She nodded vigorously, one eye on Trent, and one eye on the hive overhead.
“They help me think! I have to think about my route every day. It’s always different!”
“Your route must be pretty long,” he said, eyeing the hefty brown sack of letters.
“With so many places to go,” she agreed.
“How do you usually plan it?”
“Oooh, it takes a lot of planning! There are so many places to go. And there’s so many paths to take between each place. And then, there are so many packages too! Most of them weigh just a little, but some weigh a lot! I have to think about that too.”
“Sounds like a travelling mailman problem.”
The blonde and grey pegasus bounced up, her head twitching as the gears in her mind started to spin. She kept her head low for a moment, backing up in a tight circle. Suddenly she spun back around to face Trent, ducking her head between her legs, and looking back up.
“But I’m a mail mare!” she whined.
“Ahh, of course.”
“And it’s not that hard! You just have to add more... More... Things! More things.”
“Hmm, I don’t follow.”
“Things! More things! Like going from one house to another. That’s like...”
“A route?”
“Yes. But no...”
“A vector?”
She looked up again, twitching her ears slightly.
“No. But yes! It’s like a vector. But it’s not. It’s like a vector with vectors all on it’s own!”
“A metric?”
She danced with excitement, her hind hooves tapping the dirt at a staccato pace.
“Yes! Yes! All routes have metrics! So many metrics too!”
“Hold on a second. I never said what a metric was.”
She looked back, confused.
“But I know what it is! I know what it is now! It’s like a trait, or like... Like a... Oooh! Like a price in a store, but its different for everything.”
“So each route has several metrics, each with a different cost?”
“Yes yes yes!” she nodded her head vigorously.
“Interesting. Did you know what a metric was before, but just needed to match a word to the idea?”
“Umm...” she looked confused again, crossing her eyes slightly and bobbing her head in a small circle.
“Did it make sense after I said it? Or more sense, for that matter?”
“I think it did.”
“I have a question for you.”
“Okay!” she exclaimed excitedly.
“What is spread spectrum frequency division multiplexing?”
Her eyes went wide for a moment, independently staring in their own direction. She sat down for a moment, letting her head twist about as she thrust her nose upwards.
“It’s like a piano!” she squealed, as she hopped back up.
Trent stared for a moment, before breaking into a smile.
“Very good. Would you like another muffin?”
She practically bowled him over as she dove head-first into the paper sack.
“Thank you!” she managed, with the paper wrapper still sticking out from her lips.
“You’re welcome.”
She finished the warm muffin, smacking her lips and running her tongue over her grey furry jowl.
“You’re very nice.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
“My name is Ditzy Doo! But a lot of ponies call me Derpy... I don’t mind really.”
“Mmm. I’ve been called a lot of things too. But you can call me Trent.”
They both turned back to look at the hive.
“Did you see that big metal monster the other night?”
“Hmm... can’t say I have. What did it look like?”
“Well it was really scary! But it also acted really nice. Everypony saw it, and even the Princess came to see it too!”
“Maybe it was from outer space.”
Derpy breathed slowly for a moment, deep in contemplation.
“No, I don’t think it would come from outer space.”
“Oh?”
“It must have come from another place just like this,” she stamped her hoof against the dirt.
“Another planet?”
“Yes yes! Another planet! A planet in outer space... Not this planet, but another one like it!”
“Would you like another muffin?”
“Oh yes please! But... I’ll save this one for later,” she smiled.
* * *
“Any day now,” Spike muttered, tapping his small claws against the floor.
“Mmmuurmmmghhhh,” Twilight responded, with all the lucidity she could muster.
“Finally. I hope you remembered to give the Princess a change of address, because I’ll be happy if I don’t see another one of these for a while!”
The juvenile dragon unceremoniously dumped the pile of letters next to Twilight’s bed, a mixture of clean white parchment and cracked yellowed scrolls, each coalesced from the magical vapors that emanated from the dragon’s belly.
“Whaaa?”
Spike did not dignify her question with a response. He simply held out the calendar pilfered from the downstairs kitchen, tapping one claw at the series of X’s that blotted out the next week.
“Ohh... Your grooming thing.”
“Molting! Do you see these?” he poked at the loose scales around his belly.
“Well, that just means your baby scales are going away.”
“Why, you’re exactly right! Thank you, wise and learned magical master of the obvious.”
“Spike...” she groaned.
“I know what you’re going to say. The books are shelved, the kitchen is swept, and your supply of ink and paper is stocked. Everything should be just fine here, while I’m gone.”
“The caves near Dragon Mountain?”
“Only the best place to get a mineral oil bath. And did you know they have fresh pumice from the lava pools? I’ll have my new scales polished until I can eat off them! I hear they have water polo in the sulphur springs too. And all the gemstones I could eat!”
“That sounds...”
“Like the most relaxing week of my life,” he said with a grin.
“Mmm, well don’t let me keep you waiting,” she said as she buried her face in the pillow.
“What did you make last night? The kitchen was a bit of a mess.”
“Oh, that was for our guest. You were already asleep when he came over last night.”
“Hmm... Meh. How’d that go?”
“Well it was interesting, but we didn’t have a lot of time. I think he’s going to come over here again today.”
“Ah. Well that would explain the mostly hairless monkey looking thing standing outside.”
“WHAT!” Twilight bolted out of bed.
“He’s been out there a while now.”
“Aaaagghh!”
Twilight tore around her bedroom in a circle, brushing her hair back into long straight strands, jabbing a toothbrush in her mouth, and spitting it back into a levitating bucket. The magical multitasking mare stopped to collect herself, breathing steadily as she marched down the staircase with measured restraint.
She turned to look back upstairs.
“Well Spike, I hope you have fun at the Dragon Mountain spa. I’m going to be busy learning new and amazing things from our guest. And it’s only fitting that he, where-ever he’s from, should make official contact with only the most intelligent...”
She paused for dramatic effect.
“Smartest...”
Her mane tumbled across her back as she propped herself up with the absolute worst display of false humility ever known to Equestria.
“And scientifically minded pony in all of Ponyville!”
The door opened swiftly, and she stepped outside with confidence. Moments later, her jaw dropped as she caught sight of Trent and Derpy sitting on a tree root, staring up absentmindedly at the hanging bee hive.
This left the proud purple pony in a state of panic. To the casual observer, it would almost appear if she was choking.
On air.
* * *
“Have you finished planning your route?”
“Almost done!”
“You must be very good with math.”
She shook her head.
“Oh, no. No... I’m not. But I wish I was.”
“Well, you must have a natural talent for it, if you can do this every day. It really is a very hard problem.”
“But I don’t... I don’t know how to do it like that,” she said, looking up with a hint of sadness and shame.
“You can still solve the problem though. You should be proud of that.”
She looked back and forth between the hive and Trent several times, still feeling uncomfortable.
“Other ponies at school always told me to solve problems one way, but I was never good at that.”
“Can you show me how you solve it?”
Derpy’s eyes lit up, as she smiled and nodded.
“Oh yes. Yes yes! I know a lot of ways!”
“I’m listening.”
“First you add things!”
“Ummm... you add the route costs first?”
She shook her head.
“No no... First you add things that make the costs! Things that change... Things...”
“Variables?”
She nodded vigorously.
“Yes! Variables! And some variables that change too! Sometimes a lot of variables change.” She stood up and pointed her hoof up, slowly tracing out a large circle in many discreet ticks.
“Sometimes time is a variable! Sometimes it’s a vector!”
“Okay. What do you mean when a lot of variables change?”
“It’s like... It’s like... Ohh, It’s like a tree!”
Trent looked at the enormous trunk of the glorified treefort library.
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Trees grow up!”
“Yes, yes they do...”
“But they only grow up!”
“Hmm... And if they grew sideways?”
“They wouldn’t line up! Nope! Things fall down, so trees grow up!”
“So they line up with gravity?”
She thought to herself for a moment, before nodding slowly.
“Yes, but it’s not because of that. It’s because of what it is!”
“Trees grow up, because gravity creates a vertical gradient?”
Derpy shot into the air, spinning around several times with her wings outstretched, bouncing on her hind hooves.
“Yes yes! Yes! It’s a gradient! So is the wind! It changes so many variables at once.”
“Hmmm. So when you plan your route, you add all the variables to create route metrics, and then you add a wind gradient to follow...”
“Which changes during the day! It’s a gradient with a time variable!”
“Oy... That sounds like it makes things more complicated.”
“Nope nope! All that makes it easy!”
“Do we have the same definition for ‘easy’?”
“It’s easier to choose. It’s... There’s more choice. The choices are bigger, so they’re easier to make!”
“The number of choices?”
She shook her head.
“The relative cost of each choice?”
Her eyes lit up as she nodded excitedly.
Trent thought for a moment, rubbing his chin and studying the bubbly grey pegasus.
“So... You add many variables, such as the wind speed, wind direction, the weight of individual packages, distance between houses, density of houses, and whatever else... So that the costs of various paths will have a wider range of magnitude. Then you can group routes by similar costs, and use a selection bias to preferentially favor lowest cost aggregate routes?”
She stood still for a long moment, letting here eyes roll gently back and forth.
“Yep!” she said, with a curt nod.
“That’s really impressive, actually."
“Yep! Yep! Almost finished too!”
As they sat staring, they heard the unsteady trot of hooves approach from behind.
“Um... Hello,” Twilight said.
“Oh, good morning,” Trent returned with a smile. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, I did. Did you have a good night yourself?”
“Ah... It was okay. Woke up a bit early for some reason.”
“I see. Am I interrupting anything?”
“Oh, no. We were talking about trees just now.”
“They grow upward!” Derpy nodded her head with enthusiasm.
“Yes... Yes they do...” Twilight remarked. “Um, Derpy? You’re not getting sidetracked again, are you? I see you still have a pretty full bag of mail sitting there.”
“She’s planning her route.” Trent offered. The grey pegasus nodded in agreement.
“Well, do you need me to get some paper so you can write it down? I imagine it might be kinda hard to keep track of it all?”
Derpy’s eyes went wide again.
“Ohhh, no no no... Nope! It’s okay. I’ve got it all ready!” She tapped her hoof against the side of her head.
Trent nodded sagely.
“Goodbye Trent! And, thanks for all the muffins!” She squealed happily as she hoisted the hefty mail sack over her haunches.
“Have a good day. I know you’ll get it all delivered too, because you’re the best pony.” He winked. “The very very best!”
She danced around happily for a moment, before waving to the two, and departing into the cool brisk morning air.
Twilight approached slowly. “I’m sorry about that. I hope she wasn’t bothering you or anything.”
“Hmm? Oh, no, it’s quite all right.”
“She can be a bit... out there. But I’m glad you were nice to her. Not everypony is.”
“Ahh.” His brow furrowed.
Twilight sat next to Trent on the tree root, curious about his fixation on the bee hive.
“What’s so interesting about that?” she asked.
“They know just where to go,” he turned to look at Twilight with a grin. “They’re the best bees. The very best.”
“Uhh... Ok.”
“She’s brilliant, you know.”
The purple pony simply slapped her forehead by reflex.
Daylight crept over the fruit laden orchards of Sweet Apple Acres, rousing one young filly from her slumber. She descended the stairs gingerly, muttering a variety of recently learned expletives with each painful step. The rest of the family had already left before sunrise, tending to the ripened fields in preparation for harvest. She tip-hoofed into the kitchen, hurling her uncooperative body into the nearest chair and slumping forward across the table, savoring what few minutes of peaceful tranquility she had to herself.
Her reprieve did not last long.
"Mornin' sis. Sleep well?" Applejack asked cheerily, as she rounded the corner.
"Ughhh... Sorta."
"You okay, Applebloom?” she peered at her younger sister’s fresh bruises and uniformly scraped knees. “Land’s sake girl! You look like you’ve been dragged up one field and down the other. What in tarnation happened?!”
Applebloom shook her head slowly. “Ah’d rather not talk about it.”
A stern glare from Applejack suggested otherwise.
“I guess we’re not Cutie Mark Crusader Stunt Doubles after all,” she sighed.
“Ughh... Sugarcube, I’ve always had the sneaking suspicion that you were born with more spunk than sense. Days like today, Ah’ve gotta wonder why I spent so long wonderin,” she shook her head.
“I’m sorry sis,” she looked up worriedly. “Ya ain’t gonna be sore with Dash are ya?”
“Oh, I’ve got some words for that filly, believe you me.” She leaned across the table, eye-level with Applebloom. “But ah can’t rightfully say it’s all her fault, seeing how you three roped her into yer lil’ shenanigans.”
Applebloom sighed. “Ah know, sis.”
“Hey now, what’s done is done. Ya fall down five times, and ya get up six. Now you best get those scrapes washed up and get some grub in that belly. Big Macintosh has been out tendin’ them fields since well before sun up, so it’s time for you to get out and lend a hoof. We’ve got a busy week comin’ up, ya know.”
“For the big Apple Family get together?”
“More than just that. Pinkie’s got some ideas she’d like to throw in the mix. Seein’ on how she’s planning a party to welcome the big fella here, I figured we’d roll em all into one.”
“You mean he’s coming here!” Applebloom exclaimed in surprise.
“...Ya best clean out them ears, too. Yes he’s coming here, and it’s just right that we should try an’ make him feel welcome.”
“Gosh,” she breathed. “It might be like somethin ‘outta one of them books I borrowed from Twilight. Like, ‘The Day Equestria Stood Still’, or ‘Forbidden World’ or that other one, ‘Close Encounters of the Unnatural Kind’. Gee, that’d be exciting. Is he gonna be staying for a while then?”
“Reckon so. Not sure for how long... Wait up now, how long have you had those books?”
“Um, a while now... Prolly ought to give em back soon,” she mumbled.
“Mmm hmm,” She shot Applebloom a stern gaze.
“Ah promise, sis... Next chance I get.”
“You do that. I’m headin’ out for a bit.”
“What fer?”
“Oh, eh... You know that party comin’ up?”
Applebloom nodded.
“Got a few invitations to hand out. You know, the whole Respond You, Silver Play sorta thing.”
“Riiight...”
“Mmm, yep! Now be a good filly and get yerself washed up. Gonna be a busy week!” She said as she pushed open the door, and trotted outside.
Applebloom watched through the window as her sister steadily increased her pace, until the casual trot picked up into a gallop, and finally became an excited sprint as she raced over the lip of the hill.
She crossed her hooves over the old and polished planks of the kitchen table, and rested her throbbing head atop her forelegs.
“Invitations my flank... Wonder what pony she’s all hot to trot for.”
A disturbing thought crossed her mind - one inspired by the garishly romantic cover art of John Canter and the Planet of Mares. She shook her head violently, with what feeble energy she had.
“Naaaaahh...”
* * *
“This really is a beautiful place, don’t you think?” Trent spread his fingers and gestured towards the dew laden meadows.
The two sat by the enormous hollow tree trunk, basking in the glow of the rising sun.
“Well, yeah. You’ve said that a few times already. This place does have a certain charm to it, but I’d imagine you’ve seen more interesting places before.”
“Mmm... Some were quite interesting, yes.”
“So what do you really find so amazing about Equestria?”
“Oh,” Trent smiled as he turned to Twilight. “If I had to say one thing, it would probably be everything. But if you really must know, I find it to be very tranquil here. Rather peaceful. A certain unspoiled innocence,” he trailed off, deigning to add further pithy adjectives.
“Equestria has been at peace for just over a thousand years now. It’s hard to imagine anything different.”
“I can.”
“Oh... You mean, times where everything wasn’t peaceful?”
Trent nodded quietly.
Twilight remained silent for a few moments longer.
“War?” she asked.
Trent nodded again, more quickly this time.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, no. It’s quite all right. Conflict is a very... regrettable thing. Regrettable, but necessary at times.”
“Necessary? I can’t even imagine how or why that would ever be...” Twilight looked slightly appalled for a moment. “Is it something that you would... enjoy?”
Trent sighed. “You’re quite good at asking questions that require several different answers.”
“Well, what do you mean then?”
“There is a little saying that we have. ‘The billet does not become the blade without suffering the furnace and the anvil.’”
“I can kind of see what you’re getting at, but that doesn’t say why it’s necessary.”
“There is much to be said on the subject. But, even for all that is dark and terrible in the universe, loathsome as it may be, only serves to contrast against that which is good. Without strife, we would not know peace. Without struggle, we would not know strength. Without loss, we would not know happiness. And without sacrifice, we would not cherish that which we already have.”
“Oh...”
“I know,” Trent smiled slightly. “Sounds a bit melodramatic, doesn’t it?”
“Well, not really. Maybe just a little,” Twilight spoke, shuffling slightly closer to the otherworldly visitor.
“It’s okay. I’d think so too if I haven’t seen it for myself.”
Twilight brushed a hoof against Trent’s hand.
“Is that why you like it here?”
“It’s enough to make me shed tears of joy. Had I any left to spare.”
“Okay, now you’re being melodramatic,” she poked at him.
“Oh, of course,” he smiled. “I try not to take myself too seriously, and that goes for you too...” His voice trailed off again. “But, since you asked, I feel it’s only right that I tell you. With all sincerity. I have faced terrors that I would wish upon no other, and I would not change it for the world. And yet, I have known moments of glory and victory that will give me nightmares until the day I die.”
“That sounds...”
“A bit too melodramatic?”
“I was going to say absolutely terrible.”
“Mmm. I may have to agree with you there.”
“Do you still think about it a lot?”
“I try not to dwell on the past. The future tends to be where all the surprises are stored.”
“Hmmm.” She leaned back further against the tree, staring up into the clear blue sky. “What do you think the future is like?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure I’ll find out.”
* * *
A firm insistent tapping roused Laurie from bed.
“Urghh... Already?” he mumbled.
The knocking continued.
“Jeez, hold your haunches... I’m coming,” he grumbled as he rolled out from under the rumpled mass of blankets.
He landed unsteadily on two hooves; balanced precariously between landing firmly on the floor, or tipping back into the warm inviting bed. A living analogue of a peculiar thought experiment whereby Laurie could be said to be both awake and asleep in two superimposed states, awaiting the gentle push from a decaying atom to firmly thrust the brown and white pony into one potential reality. Unfortunately for Laurie, physics is a cold and uncaring beast, with just the slightest bit of sadistic revelry.
Gravity planted his four hooves firmly on the floor.
Murphy’s Law strategically placed several sheaves of paper from his spilled satchel underneath those hooves. His legs flew out from under him, as he smacked his chin into the bedside table, and tumbled the rest of the way to the floor. A large candle, normally stable by its’ thick squat shape, found itself tumbling as well, connecting painfully with the side of Laurie’s head.
Gravity plays no favorites.
From within the cottage could be heard a slight commotion, followed by a whimpering cry of agony that gradually rose into a deafening crescendo of barking profanity addressed ‘to whom it may concern’.
From outside the cottage, Applejack only managed to hear the portion of this muffled rant that seemed to imply a very determined threat to ‘shove all the kumquats in Neigh Haven’ up somepony’s posterior.
Some short time later, following a peaceful interlude that bore a distinct absence of shouting from the inside and knocking on the outside, the door opened.
“Ahh, good morning,” Laurie managed through bleary eyes and a painful throbbing in his head. “Can I help you, Miss...”
“Name’s Applejack. Say, you’re that officer fella from the other night in the woods, right?”
“Ahh, yes Ma’am. I’m Lieu... er... Captain Lancaster. But you can just call me Laurie for short.”
“Gotcha. Say, I was wondering if by chance... Err. Is the big fella in there?”
“Who? Oh, right. Of course. He’s right over...” Laurie turned to gesture to the neatly made bed, bereft of its occupant. “I mean right back... he’ll be right back! Yes, I just remembered now. I believe he had some very important errand to run, and he will be right back... very soon!”
“Uhh... Sure about that, are ya?” She drawled as she peered through the doorway.
“Yes, absolutely! Oh, and that reminds me. I have an errand to run too! Um... Yes, let me just, uhh...”
Laurie tried to close the door as nonchalantly as possible, but it was stopped by one firm tan colored hoof.
“I’ll leave ya to that, then. But I’ve got a message for you and the big fella first.”
“Oh?”
“Seein’ how you’re both kinda new around these parts, a friend of mine got it in her head that we should throw a lil' welcoming party for the two of ya. A lil' somethin’ to make y’all feel right at home.”
“Ahh... Well that sounds very thoughtful. Is it taking place here? Tonight perhaps?”
“Next week actually. Just outta town, over at Sweet Apple Acres.”
“Okay. Ah... Thanks. Is it going to be a big party?”
“Reckon just about every pony in Ponyville will be there. Pinkie sure knows how to throw a party.”
“Ah, right. Well that sounds...”
Laurie froze for a moment. His eyes widened and his ears twitched nervously. Visions of a poofy pink mane and that perpetual psychotic smile squealed loudly in his head.
“...great,” he squeaked.
“Oh, and one more thing. Now don’t be tellin anypony I said this, but I think a certain friend of mine has her eye on you. I know she’s gonna be there, so don’t act all surprised if some pink haired pony can’t keep a hold of herself and tries to sweep ya off your hooves,” she said with a wink.
“Oh...” Laurie started.
“Especially since she’s the one that asked me to come and invite ya. Fair warning. Anyhow... See ya later, partner!”
The door closed, as Applejack trotted off towards the Ponyville Library.
“...GOD!” Laurie screamed.
* * *
“I see you have a telescope up there.” Trent pointed at the balcony of the library. “Do you like stargazing?”
“Oh, well, yes. I don’t do it all that often, but it’s fun sometimes.”
“Mm... Lots of stars to look at.”
“Yeah. I’ve managed to see most of them. There must be hundreds of stars out there,” she said proudly.
Trent’s brow furrowed, as he turned slowly to look at Twilight.
“Hundreds, you say?”
“Umm, yes. Maybe even thousands,” she stated, matter-of-factly. Princess Luna raises them every night, after Princess Celestia lowers the Sun.”
“They move the stars around?”
“Every day,” Twilight smiled.
“Hmmm... So what happened before that?”
“Before what?”
“Before the two Princesses took up a career in celestial mechanics.”
“Oh... I’m not really sure. I don’t think there was a time when they weren’t here.”
“I see.”
“Umm... Would you like me to show you some stars later?”
“I was thinking about asking you the same thing.”
“With my telescope?”
“Eh... Well, that’s one way of doing it,” he chuckled.
“Huh? What other way did you have in mind?”
“Well, there’s one for starters,” he pointed at the glowing disk, just above the red tinged horizon.
“Where?”
Trent slapped his forehead.
“Seriously? It’s hard to miss.”
“But, it’s daytime now. All the stars have gone down. Is there one that you can still see?”
“Ahh... what exactly do you call that?” he pointed again.
“The Sun.”
“Which is a star.”
“What? No...” she said uncertainly. “It’s way too big to be a star.”
“And exactly how big do you think a star is supposed to be?”
“Well, they’re almost the size of pinholes. Some of them are just barely the size of specks of dust, even when I’m using the telescope.”
“Ahh huh.” Trent turned to look off into the distance towards Canterlot.
“What are you looking at over there?”
“I don’t know, but it’s very rocky, shaped like a cone, and I can vaguely make out a tiny castle sitting near the top.”
“Uh... Do you mean that mountain?”
“Ohh, no. It’s way too small to be a mountain.” He held up his fingers, framing the distant rocky protrusion from the base to its peak.
“Arghh... Now I know you’re just being sarcastic. Why is it that everything you say has to be some kind of half-flank riddle... oh...” Twilight paused for a moment, as a very unsettling idea found its way into her mind; the enormity of it crushing many well formed pillars of unequivocal truths and card houses of knowledge.
“Oh?”
“Um... You mean that... I mean, if that whole mountain can appear so tiny from here, then the stars...”
“Your Sun is a star. And all stars are as big as your Sun.”
“Really?”
“Actually, no. Most stars are much bigger than that. They can be several hundred times more massive, with several million times more volume.
“Ohh... My...”
“And perhaps a fair number of those pinpricks of light you mentioned are actually cosmic juggernauts. Can you imagine how far away they must be to appear so tiny?”
Twilight was at a complete loss for words. Her head throbbed, and she cradled it with both forelegs, as she gently rocked back and forth.
“I’m sorry. Was that from the translation spell?”
“No.” she squeaked out, eyes still shocked wide as she tried to glimpse upwards at the brilliant blinding light from Equestria’s star.
“Understanding?”
She nodded weakly.
“There’s more.”
“More?” she cried with a tinge of panic.
“Ohh, much more.”
She simply stared, wide eyed.
“How big do you think the Sun is?”
“I... I don’t really know. I mean, it doesn’t really look that big. If I hold my hoof up to it, it’s practically covered.”
Trent nodded. He leaned forward to draw a large rough circle in the ground, roughly the size of a small wagon wheel.
“This probably isn’t completely accurate, but it should be pretty close. Let say that this circle is the Sun.”
“Okay.”
“And this dot,” he pressed his fingertip into the loose soil, “Is us.”
“Wait, what?”
“Like a marble next to a beach ball. Although thankfully, we’re a lot further away than that,” he gestured at the ground.
She stared at the diagram, puzzled.
“Hold on. What is that dot supposed to be, exactly?”
“A planet.”
“Which one?”
“The one we’re standing on.”
“Waaaiiit... Wait a second. I’ve seen planets before through my telescope. But they’ve always looked so tiny, just like the stars.”
“Well they are tiny, compared to a star. And much closer than any star, aside from that one,” he pointed lazily.
Twilight breathed slowly, deep in concentration.
“I wonder who moves the planets.”
“There’s your answer,” Trent grinned, as he pointed back to the Sun.
Twilight Sparkle looked even more confused than before. Unfortunately, this particular expression only made her more adorable.
“What do you mean?”
Trent picked up a small stone, and let it slip from his fingers. It accelerated towards the ground at a swift pace, landing with a quiet thud.
“Gravity pulls us down, right?”
“Well, every schoolpony knows that.”
“But gravity is proportional to mass... How big or heavy something is.”
“But what does that have to do with this?”
“Watch.”
Trent picked up the stone again, and hurled it in a low arc. It nearly vanished in the distance before it landed, bouncing up briefly above the tall blades of grass, and disappearing from sight.
“Umm...”
“Yes?”
“That looks like it could hurt somepony.”
“Ahhh... Well, I did say that we got along just fine without fangs or claws. Imagine if that was a long stick with a sharp point on the end, and you’ll know how we kept ourselves fed.”
She grimaced.
“Claws and fangs might make a creature fearsome, yes. But the real predators are those that can wait and plan to fight on their own terms. Ahh. So many tasty fearsome creatures out there,” he patted his belly in the manner which another animal might flex it’s claws. “Anyways, back to what I was saying...”
He drew another circle in the dirt, with a short line sticking out from the top.
“Let’s say this is me. And that rock I threw can be represented by this line.”
He drew a small arc from the top of the line until it intersected with the circle.
“Now if I threw it twice as far, that line would be even longer. If I threw it really hard, it might end up going all the way around and landing on the other side.”
“Around? Wait, what do you mean by the other side?”
Trent sighed patiently.
“Just how big is Equestria?”
“Well, it’s pretty enormous actually! Even a really fast pegasus like Rainbow Dash would take weeks to go from one end to the other.”
“What’s at the end?”
“The great oceans, of course.”
“And beyond that?”
“Umm... More ocean?”
“Has anyone ever tried to go beyond that?”
“Well, no. I mean, why would they? Not even a pegasus can fly that far, and I know that some have even tried. What does this have to do with that circle anyways?”
“I’ll get back to that in a moment. Has anyone tried sailing across the ocean in a ship?”
“Well, yes. But they’ve never seen anything. It’s just ocean all the way, as far as they can go.”
“Maybe they need a bigger boat.”
“Huh? why? It’s not like there’s anything out there. It’s all ocean, and it can be kind of dangerous too. Besides, there are a lot more problems to worry about here, than trying to explore something that has no practical value to anypony.”
“I’ve heard that argument before.”
“Ah... So you know what I’m talking about?”
“Ohhh, yes. I’m very familiar with that, as a matter of fact,” he glared at Twilight.
“Is something wrong?” she looked suddenly concerned.
“No. Just tragically disappointing.”
She looked confused again for a moment, before Trent’s words sunk in. The realization hit her like a kick to her belly, as her head gently sunk, and her eyes began to moisten.
“I’m sorry.”
“Now there, don’t take it personally. Do you remember what I said earlier? About science?”
“Umm... To challenge one’s existing assumptions, and to let curiosity reign over complacency?”
“Very good. And don’t forget to have fun while you’re doing it.”
She remained silent for a moment, as she considered her question.
“What would happen if they sailed all the way into one of the oceans?”
“They would come out the other side.”
“Huh?”
“Look,” he pointed back to the circle, tracing a line around the entire circumference.
“But, it doesn’t look round like that!”
“If you were the size of a flea on the surface of a watermelon, you might think the same thing. In fact, you could walk all the way around and never realize that you ended up where you started, but it would still look flat the whole time.”
She pondered this for a moment, before her eyes shot wide. She looked down at the ground, then back to Trent, and then turned in a circle, taking in the whole landscape of Ponyville; from the mountainous horizon back to the rolling plains, and distant thickets of forest. A vast rolling landscape under a bright blue sky, reduced to a single dot stretched over a tiny portion of an enormous sphere.
“I... Oh, my...”
“Now look back here. You asked how the planets moved, right?”
“Yes.”
“So let’s say I throw this rock so fast that it flies all the way around the world, and hits me in the back of the head.”
“Um... Ouch?”
“Yes, you’re right. It wouldn’t be pretty. We call those kinetic kill projectiles for good reason. Anyways now, if there was no gravity, I could throw that rock at any speed, and it would just keep flying off in a straight line. But because the planet has gravity, it will always be falling. The trick is to make it go fast enough that while it’s falling, it always misses.”
“So it flies in a big circle around the planet?”
“Ohh, no. It’s still flying in a straight line. But that line is curved into a circle by the gravitational pull.”
“Whaat?”
“Mm, I’ll explain that later. It gets a little complicated. But you know that gravity is responsible for pulling fast objects into a perpetual circle, or an ellipse. We call that an orbit.”
“I guess. It’s kind of hard to understand without seeing it.”
“The moon orbits Equestria.”
Twilight’s jaw dropped.
“And the Sun... It has gravity too. A lot more than the planet we’re standing on. Therefore we’re orbiting the Sun right now as well.”
Her jaw dropped further.
“Just look at it. Can you feel it pulling us closer? The speed at which we orbit is the only thing saving us from being pulled straight in. Could you imagine that? Hurtling towards that nuclear furnace without any hope of holding ourselves back. It would just grow larger and larger as we sped down the throat of its gravity well. Hot enough to turn our bones into ash before we got anywhere near it. Even now, it pulls us relentlessly, as we skirt just safely along the edge of it’s voracious grip.”
She stared up into the sky with a new found terrified reverence. Almost as if she could feel the pull from that hot blinding disc.
“The moon orbits us... We orbit the Sun... Does the Sun orbit anything?”
“That is a very good question, and yes, it does.”
Trent stooped down to draw several spiral arms radiating out from the middle of the big circle, each one traced with several fingers pressed together. A large oval shaped depression was pressed into the center.
“That looks kind of like a whirlpool.”
“Yes it does. A very apt comparison.”
He reached down again, tracing a tiny circle midway down the length of one spiral arm.
“What’s that little circle?”
“Well, you remember how you asked if the Sun orbits around something larger?”
“Yes. Is that circle our Sun?”
“No, but you’re close. That circle is much too big to be the Sun.”
“Well, what is it then?”
“All the stars you can possibly see from here.”
Everything hit Twilight at once, and she suddenly recoiled away from the picture in the dirt. She could not speak. She could not gasp for breath. She looked up, almost pleadingly at Trent, as if the joy of discovery had suddenly turned terrifying through the sheer oppressive enormity of all that she could suddenly comprehend.
“All that...” she breathed.
“I think your world just got a little bigger.”
“And we orbit around that?” she pointed to the thick oval in the center.
Trent nodded. “It’s a galaxy.”
“How... How many stars are in a galaxy?”
“Do you recall when you said ‘hundreds’?”
“Yes.”
“Hundreds of billions.”
She thought about it, and then thought some more. Then her legs began to shake, and she collapsed like a stack of potatoes. Trent dove quickly to break her fall, cradling her neck in his arms.
“It’s so much. I can’t... I just can’t believe it.”
“Well, you did say you wanted to learn everything. I feel compelled to oblige.”
“Is there more?”
“So much more.”
“But... How do you believe in it all?”
“I don’t.”
“What? After all that you just said... I mean, how do you expect me to believe it then?”
“What I tell you is not idle speculation. It is the product of theories supported by evidence, tested by experiment, and standing up to generations of questioning.”
“How is that different from believing?”
“Hmm... For the most part, they are very similar. Two sides of the same coin, as it were. However, there is a subtle, but key distinction. Belief withers under the spotlight of questioning, yet that very same scrutiny is the engine that makes ideas grow and flourish.”
“You say that, like questioning everything automatically makes your ideas right,” Twilight countered.
“That’s a good observation. I suppose what I’m trying to say is there’s an appropriate sense of humility at work. The hubris of absolute conviction builds itself into a grand and soaring tower, magnificent in splendor, and visible for miles. It boasts the truth, because it cannot afford to be wrong. But science does not build towers. It builds foundations. Those who admire the tower will do so because it is pretty. Those who admire the foundation will do so because it is permanent. It is the humble approach that imparts the truly humbling experience.”
“So that makes it safe from questioning?”
“Nope. Finding the truth is an impartial process that steps on many toes along the way.”
“Can science be wrong?”
“It wouldn’t be science if it proclaimed itself to always be correct.”
“But how do you know when it is right?”
“Think of it as carving a statue from a stone block. You simply carve away everything that doesn’t look like a pony. Sounds easy, right? At first, you may only have a vague idea of what it should look like, and you’ll probably waste a lot of blocks before you even get close. Then, after you get the rough shape worked out, you can go back and work on the details until it’s almost perfect. Science works the same way. You come up with an idea that explains how you think something works, and then you throw questions at it until you’re left with a theory that supports your observations, or a complete illogical mess that contradicts everything.”
“That sounds like it could take forever, if you’re just doing everything by trial and error.”
“Mmm, perhaps. Tell me, when you learned how to use magic, was it difficult? Did you make mistakes along the way?”
“Umm...” she blushed slightly. “Some. Well, more than I want to admit actually.”
“So if you could go back and change it all... Would you? If you had to start over from scratch, would you try to stop yourself from making those mistakes in the first place?”
“I...” she paused for a moment, thinking back. “Well, maybe.”
“All of those mistakes, failures, and frustrations. Just washed away. Where would that leave you? Would you ever have succeeded if you never tried?”
“I don’t really know.”
“Mmm... As long as you can admit to failure, you will never admit to defeat. Keep that in your mind at all times. It may take courage to face a challenge, but it takes perseverance to prevail.”
“Okaaay. What does that have to do with science again?”
“Because, sometimes the most audacious thing you can do in life is to question it. Believe what you are told, or believe in yourself. That is the crux between complacency and curiosity.”
“But what if I end up being wrong?”
“Then learn from it. Knowing when you’re wrong will inevitably help you find what is right.”
“Is that how you know?”
“This is how we’ve known. Long before we could see that up close with our own eyes.” he gestured towards the ground.
Twilight looked back to the large swirl in the dirt. A cosmic map of dizzying scale and terrifying distance that belied the humble tracing of its finger-drawn furrows.
“You’ve seen that?”
Trent nodded. “That, and more.”
“There’s more?” Twilight looked up weakly, her mind near the limits of fatigue.
“Mmm. You did say that you could show me the stars. Perhaps I can return the favor some day.”
Her jaw gaped, looking back and forth between Trent and the galactic map.
“But not right now. I imagine you could use a break first.”
She nodded weakly.
“Just remember. Question everything, but believe in yourself. Let that be your one true faith, and it will burn brighter than all of the stars combined. A candle in the darkness that will illuminate the very depths of the universe.”
A smile slowly blossomed over Twilight’s face. She stood before Trent, staring into his eyes with all sincerity.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
Trent smiled back at Twilight, as he sat down against the base of the tree, stretching his legs as he did. A wry grin crept over his face as he planted his boots in the dirt, straddling the curved arms of the spiral disc.
“This really is a beautiful place.”
“Why do you keep saying that?”
“Because I’ve been to a lot of places.”
They sat in silence for some time, contemplating the warm glow of the Sun.
It struck them both deeply. Twilight’s feeling of awe and respect against Trent’s perpetual feeling of child-like curiosity. Yet still they shared a particular feeling, that one could learn so much, and understand so little.
After some time, they could hear a knocking on the front door of the library.
“Twilight?” A call that came from Applejack.
“Hmmm?” She looked up suddenly.
The knocking continued, with barely measured restraint.
“Oh, that sounds like Applejack. Have you met her before?”
“I have, actually,” Trent replied.
“Let’s go see her!” Twilight bounded up, and trotted around to the front of the library. “Applejack, we’re over here!”
Trent followed, tiptoeing along a more circuitous route.
“Oh hey there, Twi. How’ve you been doin this morning?”
“Amazing! Just amazing! Ohh, I have so many things on my mind right now, it’s just... so much! Ohh!” She skipped in the air.
“Whoa there, Nelly, what’s got yer skirts all in a bunch?”
Twilight smiled maniacally. “The Sun! Just look at it!”
“Eh... I try not to.”
“Can you feel it pulling us in?” she exclaimed with amazement. “It’s the speed at which we orbit that keeps us from falling into a quick agonizing death by nuclear inferno!” She exclaimed with a cheerful smile.
“Aaaannnd... What in the hay is all that supposed to mean?” she cocked her eye at Twilight, backing away slowly.
“Oh... Well. I just mean that it’s really beautiful, the way it all works,” she said with a slight blush.
“Are you all right, Twi?”
She nodded happily. “Yes. I just feel amazing right now!”
“Well, I guess I’m happy that you’re happy. Say... Have you seen the big fella around?”
“Ohh, well...”
“Because I’ve... I mean, ah... Been kinda wanting to see him again.”
“Huh?”
Applejack stepped close to Twilight, her face wrought with nearly conspiratorial levels of shyness.
“Now don’t go tellin nopony about this. But you remember back to that night when we met the big fella? Somethin’ happened that ain’t nopony knows about ‘cept me, him, and the Princess herself.”
It was Twilight’s turn to back away slowly.
“I mean, it all happened so fast. But it seemed like he jumped in at just the nick of time and kept me from losin’ my head in one of those fiendish lil snapping berry patches. And you know what else? When he saw me, it was like he ain’t seen me in a while, and just swooped me up off my hooves and gave me a big ol’ hug like some long lost kinfolk that’d been waitin’ for years to come an see me.”
“Uhh...”
“And now I don’t trust nopony to keep a secret, other than you and myself, pretty much. But I gotta tell you anyhow. I don’t know how I’m gonna say it, or even why I should be getting myself all worked up over it in the first place. I mean, I don’t even know how to tell him, and I’m not even sure if he’ll be around long enough for us to learn how to talk to one another. But I just gotta tell him how I feel...”
“Uhhhh...”
“I mean, I’m mighty grateful and all. But there’s more that I gotta get off my chest. If I could, someday, I’d just like to give him a big ol’ hug, and just not stop. It’s not that I feel like I owe it to him as returning a favor or anything. I just want to let him know that... Well... I know it sounds a bit strange and all, but I wish I could just be with him, till the end of time itself.”
“Applejack?”
“Yes?”
“He can understand everything you just said.”
“What!” she cried out in alarm, her face flushed with a deep burning red.
“Long story...”
“Well... Twi, promise you won’t tell him what I just said. Not yet at least. I mean... Oh horsefeathers, I’m sounding like some dumbstruck filly with her heart all a pitter patter.”
“Ehh... He’s right here.”
“Where?”
“Huh?” Twilight turned around suddenly. Trent was nowhere in sight.
“You said he was right here, just now?”
“Yes, he was just right behind me!”
Unfortunately for Twilight, this could not be further from the truth. There was a sudden rustling from behind the two ponies, as a large hulking mass hurled itself from behind the trunk of the tree, flinging towards them in one predatory leap; hissing through bared teeth and raising many fingers in a mimicry of razor sharp talons.
“Boogedy Boogedy Boo!” Trent shouted as his boots landed with a crunch behind Twilight and Applejack.
Unlike cats, ponies could not ascend trees in the face of danger. This did not stop them from trying. They tumbled back to the ground, holding each other tightly in anticipation of their final moments as living, breathing, metabolizing organisms.
Trent stood there, bent over with his hands on his knees, giggling madly. He broke into a deep braying laugh, snorting and gasping for breath.
“AAUUUUGHHH!” Twilight shouted. “Why would you do that!”
The ‘Emperor of a Thousand Suns’ collapsed to the ground, slapping his palm against the packed dirt as he cried through tears of laughter.
Applejack stared in shock, her heart still racing from the sudden adrenaline fueled endocrine explosion. There were a million things that she wanted to say, but only one sentence blurted out.
“You can talk!” she exclaimed.
Trent restrained his laughter for a moment, looking up from his doubled-over stance.
“Oh yes. For the last sixty thousand years, give or take.”
The giggling resumed with full force, much to the bewilderment of the two ponies.
“Ahhh...” Applejack breathed. “Did you catch what we were saying just now?” She asked nervously.
“Hmm. Well I heard something just after I made it all the way around. Stupid tree is a lot bigger than it looks.” he waved his hand at the enormous trunk.
Applejack’s eyes went wide.
“Umm... You didn’t hear what I was sayin about...”
“Oh, hey now. If you’ve got your eye on some dashing young colt out there, I’m not one to gossip. Your secret is quite safe with me, and I’ve got the security clearance to prove it!”
“The what?” they asked in unison.
Trent sighed mirthfully, letting the last fits of laughter escape his system.
“You must be Applejack. I’m glad to see you again.”
Applejack’s mouth moved, but nothing came out.
“It seems that your friend Twilight is quite the up and coming scientist, scholar, and a top notch chef to boot. What do you like to do in Ponyville?”
“I... Uhhh... I like to buck apples!”
Trent’s face screwed itself into a mix of surprise, shock, and gutter-level amusement.
“You what apples?”
“Umm, yep! All day long!”
“Uhhhh...”
Twilight came to the aid of her friend.
“Ah, what she means is...”
“Ya see, it’s like this!” Applejack shouted nervously. She leaned on her forelegs, and turned to deliver a solid kick to the trunk of the library.
A shower of apples did not descend.
A swarm of bees did.
“OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD, KEEP THEM AWAY!” Trent shouted, as he tore across the field, waving his arms and swatting at his neck.
* * *
A quick burst of magic from Twilight’s horn calmed the angry swarm, sending them back to the confines of the buzzing nest in an orderly manner.
She turned to look at Applejack, who watched Trent disappear over the horizon, still flailing his arms in panic.
“Umm...”
“That could’ve gone better,” Applejack sighed, hanging her head.
The door burst open, and Spike ran out to meet them.
“What was that! What in the name of Celestia’s tracts of land was THAT?”
Applejack raised one hoof sheepishly.
“Are you serious? You are serious... Agh! Do you know how long it took to put all those books on the shelf?” Spike demanded.
“I... Umm...”
“Oh, wait. Let me finish that for you. I’m leaving for Dragon Mountain, and someone else is cleaning that up!”
“Spike...”
“I love you too, Twilight. Have fun while I’m gone. Don’t forget to write, and by all means, please don’t destroy anything. Else.”
They watched as the baby dragon marched back inside the library, returning moments later with two swollen suitcases; their tiny wheels dragging a set of ruts through the polished gravel near the door. Nearly on que, a carriage arrived near the library, and was quickly boarded by one impatient young molting dragon.
Fluttershy raised her hoof with nervous trepidation, hovering inches away from the cottage door. She wanted to knock. She was driven to knock. Every waking moment of this new day had compelled her, against all fear and uncertainty, to bring her to this very point. Yet she hesitated. Seconds became minutes as she stood before the cottage, fighting against the doubt that shackled her limbs as surely as forged chain. Still, she struggled. Every day of her life bore the oppressive weight of timidity. Every inaction, every overwhelming feeling of inadequacy, only served to underscore that meek subservience. That the breadth of adventure and depths of joy; every fleeting opportunity for glory wrought triumphantly from an indifferent world; could only be glimpsed from afar. Only tasted by an insatiable palate. The albatross of obsequiousness that hung heavily over her soul bore a persistently depressing and bleak ultimatum. The very magnitude of her happiness could only be measured in meager portions, humbly accepted as an animal that only knew freedom within range of its leash.
She breathed deeply, steadying herself. The journey that began from her home this morning would not simply end here. She raised her hoof, even as her mind tried to conjure any rational excuse to abstain. To postpone. To go her separate way. In the span of seconds, she faced a million reasons not to continue forth. A burning pit of anger welled deeply within her, spiteful and mocking of who she was. Shy. Tame. Fearful. Her eyes stung with the faintest glistening of tears as she rebelled against that very nature. The fire in her trembling belly grew as a roaring furnace within her mind, forging her resolve, and empowering her with the forceful impetus of an errant locomotive. It was just enough.
Beyond the door was a pony unlike any that she had even known. The complete polar opposite to her. Forceful, yet reserved. Belligerently confident. A way with words that simply made her knees tremble. A patchy brown and white coat that screamed undaunted pride in the face of imperfection. A pony that she had never met; who was everything that she was not.
She hesitated for one final moment. It was foolish at best, and futile at worst. The raging torrent of hormonally fueled romance roared like a river within her, but rational arguments and pessimistic logic stood stubborn as boulders jutting from a stream bed. It really was absurd to think that even if all went well, her life would be satiated. That meeting the living embodiment of all that she secretly yearned for would somehow complete her.
Fluttershy sighed, but looked up suddenly; her jaw set with renewed determination.
If she failed, so be it. The courage to simply try was all that she wished for now. In doing so, she would complete herself. Her hoof raised towards the door, with renewed and unwavering purpose.
Just as her hoof connected firmly against the door, there was a sudden, shrill, shriek. A comically high-pitched squeal from the direction of the library. Fluttershy looked back in surprise.
The door was abruptly yanked open from inside.
“Treeeeennnnt!” shouted Laurie, as he shot from the cottage like a missile, the sash of his royal uniform only vaguely in place around his neck.
What happened next took place faster than either pony could comprehend. A short sharp smack, followed by a smattering of stars.
As Fluttershy’s vision cleared, she looked up to see another equally stunned pony just inches from her nose. The loose gravel of the road pressed firmly into her back, as the brown and white haired pony pressed warmly against her belly. Two heartbeats hammering just inches away, but miles apart.
“I...”
“Oh, my, I am so sorry, Miss. Terribly sorry about that, really. Bit of a rush here.”
“Oh...”
“Anyways, the name’s Laurie. Officer Laurie I mean. Er, Lancaster actually. Again, terribly sorry about that. Feeling okay there, I hope? Yes? Anyways, my apologies again. Was right in the middle of carrying out my duties... Er, ongoing mission in service to the crown of Canterlot. Long story there. Very important duties. Afraid I can’t stop to chat and tell you all about it. Highly secretive actually. Shouldn’t be talking about it all, come to think of it. And it’s quite urgent I must say! Thanks for understanding. Oh... Um. My apologies. I should probably get off you, perhaps?”
“It’s...”
“Right then, there we go,” Laurie stammered as he untangled his legs from Fluttershy’s shocked supine body. “Anyways, sorry about all that again, but I must really be going. Ahh.. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss...?”
“Fluttershy.”
“Miss Fluttershy. An honor and a pleasure to meet you. Anyways! I, um.. have to meet up with someone. Right now actually. Sorry about everything there. These sort of accidents do happen. I do hope there are no hard feelings. Or concussions, or broken bones, for that matter. Ahh... Hope to see you again soon. At some point in time that isn’t this one in particular. So, yeah. See you later then, of course. Um... Goodbye!”
Laurie turned and took off with a start, coming to a full gallop in a matter of hoofsteps. He stopped suddenly, skidding to a less than abrupt halt.
He turned to look back at Fluttershy, as she laid still on her back, breathing heavily.
“You have a very nice mane!” he blurted out. “Very nice, really.”
She rolled her head back to look, but Laurie was already sprinting away.
A smile began to slowly spread across her face. An upwelling sense of satisfaction that surged to the very extremities of her sore and tender body. It hadn’t gone exactly as she planned, but she wouldn’t trade that for the world now.
“You did it, Fluttershy,” she whispered to herself.
She rose unsteadily, still tingling from her small victory and still aching from the violent collision. Grey dust and dirt matted her bright yellow fur and feathers. A shower was needed... A very cold shower. She bit her lip gently as her eyes closed, playing back through the indelible memories of the past minutes.
The soft staccato of Laurie’s hooves tickled her perked ears, barely audible over the horizon of the gently rolling meadows. She began to trot in that direction, all rational compunction rolled aside like the broken boulders of a bursting dam.
The shower would have to wait.
* * *
Trent ran. His adrenaline-fueled foray left Laurie struggling to catch up. The bounding strides of the alien visitor looked completely bizarre and unnatural, yet carried him surprisingly fast.
“Trent!” Laurie shouted in alarm.
“Oh! Hey!” he shouted back over his shoulder.
“What happened! Why are you running?”
“BEEEES!”
“What? Beads?”
“Beees! I hate bees!”
“What? Are you serious? Oh for the love of Celestia’s flank, would you stop already!”
The two slowed to a jog, and then to a meandering shuffle.
“What the hell was that all about!” Laurie demanded.
Trent bent over with his hands on his knees, gulping air as he tried to recover his voice.
“Best bees, my ass!” he swore.
“What about them?”
“Just got swarmed by a whole hive. Angry little bastards. Some little cowgirl pony got the bright idea to turn around and kick the side of the library - which happens to be a giant tree, mind you! Bees, bees everywhere, and here we are! Gah!”
“That tree is a library? Damn, I knew it looked kind of funny in the dark. Who the hell would build something like that?”
“Don’t know, don’t care. Just.. Ugh... I HATE BEES.”
Trent stopped for a moment, looking introspective.
“Except bumblebees, maybe.”
“Ahh, why?”
“Because they taste like fruit juice.”
“What?”
“Motorcycle. Open helmet.”
“What?!”
“Long story.”
“Oh for the love of pay and hay, I get it! Eating things is your answer to everything! When in doubt, you just cram it down your snout. No wait, that doesn’t really make sense. Aaaghh! Just what were you doing out this morning anyways?”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
Laurie drew a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let out a long measured sigh. A martial trance to tame the seething rage that boiled in his gut.
“I see. Now let me get this straight. You couldn’t sleep, so you decided to go out for a stroll this morning. Maybe swing out for breakfast while you’re at it, and then pay a visit to a certain prancing purple pony, hmm? Does that sound about right?”
Trent nodded. “Stopped to check the mail, too.”
Laurie’s eye twitched.
“Did it ever occur to you, that maybe... Just maybe, you could have TOLD ME FIRST!”
“Ehh...”
“I’m supposed to be guarding you! Not to mention being your guide, concierge, crowd control, and whatever the hell else Celestia only knows. It’s not like I just woke up one day with half my tail shoved up my arse thinking, ‘oh, gee - today might be a GREAT rutting day to play bodyguard to some carnivorous two-legged jackass!’ No! It’s my job! I take it seriously, and I need you to remember that! Just... Just don’t sneak off like that again. Please. I was worried this morning. Not just about what might happen if you had managed to get yourself killed in some spectacular manner, or accidentally started a riot because every damned pony in Ponyville decided they wanted to be first in line for some sort of alien autograph. And not just because that would be really rather difficult to explain to not just one, but TWO living celestial goddesses, slash commanders in chief, slash royal Princesses, slash signers of my paycheck... Who have both specifically instructed me, in particular, in no uncertain terms, to NOT FUCK THIS UP in exactly the manner I previously described!”
Laurie stopped to catch his breath. “But most of all, because I was worried about you. Really.”
“Mmm. You’re right, actually. And you do have my apologies. Although I do have to wonder, what exactly would I need to be guarded from, around here.”
“Beats the hay out of me. Never can be sure about that sort of thing, though.”
“True, that.”
“Say... Did you say you met some pony dressed like a cowgirl earlier?”
“Ahh, yes. Why?”
“Hmm. No reason.”
* * *
“Ah think that’s the last one, Twi,” Applejack said, as she pushed the thick tome back into place on the shelf. “Really sorry about that, earlier.”
“It’s okay. You don’t need to blame yourself”
“I know, I know. Don’t know why I get all a flustered around him. Really ought to keep a level head, but ah keep thinking back to that night in the forest. Ever since, it’s just... Well it’s hard to describe. Reckon he probably saved my life and all, but there’s just more to it.”
“Like what?”
“Well, it’s like he knows me. Like he knows me better than I know myself some days. And more than that, it felt like he honestly cared about me deep down enough that I’d be an ungrateful whelp to not see that, and show how I feel about it in return.”
“How you feel about him, you mean?”
Applejack sighed, shaking her head at the ground. “Yeah. Just like that. And the first chance I get, I make myself out to be the biggest donkey derriere in all the history books.”
“I...” Twilight began.
“Please promise you wont tell nopony what I just said, Twi. Please.”
“I will. You have my word, as a friend. But I wanted to tell you something,” she looked around before leaning in close. “You’re not the only pony that’s come close to dying from terminal embarrassment around him.”
“Wha... Who would that be?”
“Promise you won’t tell?”
“Cross my heart, sugarcube.”
Twilight leaned back, rolling her eyes and blushing.
“Me.”
“Do I want to know?”
She shook her head. “You really don’t want to know.”
“Ah huh... I’ll take your word on that. Don’t suppose it’s anything like my little faux pas of the century?”
“No... No, no. Nothing quite like that,” she giggled. “But I don’t know if it’s better or worse!”
“Eeeyeah...”
A momentary silence ensued, as the lull in the conversation left them glancing awkwardly around the living room.
“You know, I’m starting to notice that he seems to act completely different to everypony he meets...” Twilight trailed off.
“Sorta like one of them color changing lizards?”
“A chameleon, yeah. Like he changes how he acts to match anypony’s personality. Or tells them exactly what they’re most interested to hear.”
“Like a spy...”
“What?” Twilight’s voice fell to a whisper. “Do you really think that?”
“No, Twi. Not him. Least I don’t think so.”
“Some other pony?”
“I ain’t namin names just yet. Not especially if I don’t know the whole picture. Look - daylight’s a wastin outside, and as much as I’d like to spend the rest of the day hiding under a blanket with a tub of chocolate marshmallow swirl ice cream...”
“Oh god I love that flavor.”
“...Yeah. Me too Twi. But I’ve gotta get back to the farm and start catchin up on the work there.”
“Oh...”
“But before I go, promise me this. If some pony comes up and starts askin you about the big fella, powerful magic, or any sorta thing where they seem to know the answer before they’re askin the question... Let me know. Okay?
“Well, okay. Who is it?”
Applejack sighed. “Do you remember what I said about me meeting the big fella in the forest? How nopony saw that ‘cept the Princess herself?”
“Yeah?”
“A grey pony named Raines. He knew. He didn’t say it outright, but he knew!”
“Well, he could have been part of the search party.”
“Celestia’s guards cordoned that off. I never saw anypony from the search party make it over to where we were. Now Twi, I know I’m not the best with math an all, but would you mind calculatin the probability that this Raines feller just happened to be taking a stroll through the Everfree forest that time of the evening, and just so happened to end up close enough to see me and the big fella together?”
“Um...” Twilight shifted her eyes upwards as she started to multiply numbers in her head.
“It’s a rhetorical question, Twilight. Ain’t a snowball’s chance in July that he’d just be there by accident.”
“Wait a second. Do you mean where he had Sweetie Belle, or where he found you?”
“Where he found me.”
“Urrgh.. this is making my head hurt. How did Trent know where to find you in the first place?”
“Huh? Is that his name?”
“Yes. How did he know where to come and find you? You were about a mile away from Sweetie Belle!”
Applejack went slightly pale. The sickening snap of the gardener’s leaves played back through her mind.
“A whole mile away?”
“Yes.”
“Oh sweet gravy... I ain’t feeling so good right now, Twi.”
“It just doesn’t make any sense. If Trent knew where to find you, how did this Raines pony know where to find Trent?”
The two were silent for some time, as they pondered a rather unsettling question.
“Twilight?”
“Yes?”
“Think I best be going, before my head starts to spin worse than it already is.”
“Okay. Um, Applejack?”
“Yes, sugarcube?”
“When did he get there? Were you anywhere near that gardener plant when he showed up?”
Applejack’s ears twitched erratically as she responded with a lengthy silence.
“See ya around Twi...”
* * *
“You ready to do this?”
“Been ready all morning! This is gonna be the best!”
“I know! It’s gonna be Sooo Awesome!”
Rainbow Dash traced an arc in the dirt with one light blue hoof, followed by a second line that corkscrewed around until it met up with the other end of the arc.
“Just so we’re clear. This is where you get released, and this is where I pick you up.”
“Yep!” Scootaloo nodded with excitement.
“Then we break into the next routine,” she said while drawing a set of parabolic arcs, one inside of the other. “This smaller arc is you, and I’ll be taking the longer route.”
“Lets do it!”
* * *
“Ehh. So, what were you planning to do today?”
“I dunno.”
“Back to see Twilight, perhaps? Was she using that.. ah.. ring, this morning?”
“Nope. I imagine she’s tempted to try it though.”
“We should head back that direction, although the town is probably awake by now. Most of them haven’t seen or met you before, so I don’t know how they’re going to handle you strolling around in broad daylight.”
“I get mixed reactions. You know that place next to the cottage, where we had breakfast the other day? Sugarcube Corner I think it’s called. The owners of the place could barely move when I went in there by myself. Had their eyes glued to me the whole time. Even worse when I started talking, and they realized that I could understand everything they were saying to each other.”
“Ouch.”
“Can’t hardly blame them. It’s not every day that something from another star walks into your establishment with an empty stomach.”
“Yeah, I can imagine that would feel, oh great devourer of helpless tasty creatures. Wait a second. Another star?”
“Yep.”
“Those tiny little things that only come out at night?”
“Urghh... Long story; explain later.”
“Whatever.”
“Anyways, good thing that other pony was there. Pinkie Pie, I believe.”
“That shrill pink maniac? Oh gods, are you still in full possession of your sanity?”
“Hmm? She seems all right to me. Very polite and rather charming individual, with a great sense of humor.”
“Charming?” Laurie nearly choked on the word.
“Yeah. We hit it off pretty well. She’s rather bright too. It’s like the two of us practically think on the same wavelength.”
“You mean like a caffeine fueled chipmunk in a broken hamster wheel?”
Trent shrugged. “Yeah, sorta.”
“Oh gods... No wonder that ring sends ponies into catatonic shock when they try to peer into your brain.”
“Mm, yeah,” Trent said as he casually glanced across the field, and back to Laurie.
“Very nice pony anyways. Oh, you’re going to find this interesting!”
“What?”
Trent pulled a small irregular metal disk from his pocket. A cast iron cookie with high carbon steel chips.
“What the blazes? Where did that come from?”
“I told you she was nice. Turns out, she had some blacksmith make these, because she thought I was made out of metal. And by logical extension, that I would probably eat metal as well!”
“Oh what? That has got to be the stupidest...”
“Well I thought it was pretty ingenious. Even if it was completely wrong. And it was nice of her, after all.”
“I... I have no words for this. So she just gave it to you anyways?”
“Well, she did try to see if I was going to eat it first. Can’t blame her for trying to experiment. I took it anyways, and told her I’d save it for later.”
“Oh, you tricky bastard!” Laurie chortled.
“Heh,” Trent’s eyes glanced across the field again, then back to Laurie. “Say, whatever you do, keep talking. Keep looking at me.”
“Eh, what?”
“Keep talking. Don’t turn around.”
“Why?”
“We’re being watched.”
“Ohh... Right, then. Hate it when that happens. So tell me, Trent, how many, how far away?”
“Just one.”
“Armed?”
“Can’t tell. If it comes to that though, get behind me. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”
“We’re not that far out of town. Probably should try to make a break for it. Lot harder to murder someone in public.”
“You’d be surprised...”
“That’s not what I wanted to hear!”
“Hold on a second.”
Trent’s hand rose into the air, his fingers tapping at invisible buttons. He waved his palm around ever so slightly in a series of confusing gestures, before curling up his fist with one index finger pointing straight out.
“What’s that supposed to do?”
“Vertical Launch System with clustered anti-personnel munitions. It’s armed now.”
“What?”
“I point, it shoots. Things go boom.”
“Oh... That sounds kind of cool actually. Um, what are you waiting for?”
“Making damned sure before I use it. There’s a saying, you know. ‘Friendly fire isn’t’. I’ve got no idea who’s back there.”
“...I see your point.”
“Lets try to get out of here. Slowly. Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“On three, we both start walking to town. Stay behind me. Count thirty paces, then you stop to tell me something, got it? I’ll turn around and see if we’re being followed.”
“Ready.”
“Okay. One... Two...”
There was a tremendous explosion.
* * *
Twilight’s soft slippers padded against the carved wooden staircase as she carried her tea to the upper floor of the library. She sprawled over the edge of her bed, shuffling her hind legs around until they were evenly covered by the warm fuzzy bathrobe.
The library wouldn’t open until Noon. She was going to enjoy this next half hour all to herself. She sipped from the steaming tea mug, as she eyed the piles of letters that littered her bedroom.
“Down to business,” she sighed.
The first letter floated up before her, chosen randomly from the loose pile.
My Dear and Faithful student, Twilight Sparkle.
Have you seen my copy of the “Canterlot Royal College Handbook of Alchemy and Magic”, Edition 332? The only one I have here is from a few centuries back. Really wish you were here, because the Canterlot Library leaves something to be desired in comparison to your organizational skills.
Yours,
Princess Celestia.
“Next...”
My Dear and Faithful student, Twilight Sparkle.
I must sincerely apologize regarding the sudden deluge of mail. Much has been written in the past days and nights since the encounter with our visitor. I trust that you can follow this correspondence in the proper chronological sequence, as I imagine that by the sheer volume, it has likely become a sizable pile in the corner of your room.
Please offer my thanks and condolences to Spike for delivering these letters. Our line of communication bears great importance in light of recent events.
I apologize in advance if any other letters get mixed in among more pressing topics. Again, our filing system here is a bit turn-of-the-few-centuries-ago. I hope your meetings with our guest are productive and enlightening.
Yours,
Princess Celestia.
“Next.”
The crisp white scroll joined the first. The foundation of a growing parchment pyramid. A new scroll hovered before her, musty yellow parchment that she unfurled delicately. Princess Luna’s writing desk appeared to have been left untouched for some time as well.
TWILIGHT SPARKLE.
KNOW THAT IT HATH BEEN MANY LUNAR CYCLES SINCE OUR LAST CORRESPONDENCE. AS SUCH, I WISH TO REPEAT MY PREVIOUS INQUIRY AS TO WHETHER THE PONYVILLE LIBRARY HATH AVAILABLE A COPY OF “JOHN CANTER AND THE PLANET OF MARES”. IT WOULD BE MOST PLEASING TO OBTAIN THIS AT THE EARLIEST CONVENIENCE.
THE COVER ART IS SIMPLY AMAZING AS WELL, WOULDN’S’T THOU AGREE?
PRINCESS LUNA.
Twilight rubbed her forehead, still feeling the stentorian voice ringing in her ears with the subtle impetus of a hurricane.
“Neeext...”
Dearest Twilight Sparkle,
Have I ever told you how much you’ve grown over the last summer? I can hardly conceal my envy at the supple curvaceous shape of your flank. The way it flexes as you trot can only be summarized in a single word, one which scarcely conveys the full depth of the meaning it is meant to express.
Delectable.
Yours...
“NEXT!!!!” she screamed.
TWILIGHT SPARKLE.
WE ARE PLEASED TO HAVE YOUR FORMIDABLE SKILLS TO AID US IN THE ONGOING STUDY AND WELCOMING OF OUR VISITOR. KNOW WELL THAT WE PLACE OUR UTMOST FAITH IN THINE ABLE HOOVES.
IT APPEARS THAT OTHERS HAVE EXPRESSED INTEREST IN YOUR WORK AS WELL. I HAVE BEEN APPROACHED BY A JOURNALIST WHO WRITES FOR THE NORTHERN LANSHIRE READER, WHICH I CAN ONLY PRESUME TO BE A THRIVING COMMUNITY THAT HATH COME TO BE DURING THE TIME OF MY ABSENCE.
HE IS AN INTERESTING FELLOW WHO’S UNDERSTANDING OF POLITICS AND HISTORY SEEM TO BELIE THE MODEST ACCUMULATION OF HIS YEARS. PERHAPS I CAN ARRANGE FOR HIM TO MEET WITH YOU AT SOME TIME OF YOUR CHOOSING.
FARE THEE WELL.
PRINCESS LUNA.
“Next...”
Dearest Twilight Sparkle,
I have some good news! Recently, I have been reading through a book that describes numerous therapeutic exercises. I know. I am the Princess of Equestria and all, but sometimes even a Princess needs to relax, and mentally refresh one’s self.
But I must say that it has been an incredibly rewarding experience. The act of carrying so many thoughts in one’s head can exert a terrible strain on one’s facilities. Fortunately, I have found a chapter in this book that describes the act of writing letters to convey your deepest feelings, and simply not sending them. It is quite brilliant, I must say. You should try it sometime too!
Just make sure those letters never get sent! Ha ha.
Your mentor and friend,
Princess Celestia.
The sound of one hoof smacking a forehead could be heard throughout the library.
“Next...” she sighed.
Dearest Twilight.
While we’re on the subject of my previous letter, don’t forget to ask him how they calculate casualty figures in Mega Deaths per initial incident versus post-attack casualties due to radioactive fallout, lack of medical care for injured, and subsequent periods of logistical and societal breakdown as it relates to levels of urban population density.
I know this is not a subject to be broached lightly, and I can agree with his reluctance to discuss such matters. As terrible as it may be to learn, I am compelled to have more information, than to remain blissfully ignorant.
If my choice of words are not entirely familiar to you at this point, they will be soon enough. In but a brief moment, I have learned of many great and terrible things that exist in the world outside of our own.
Use the ring. I implore of you to learn as much as you can from him. As I write this with an unsteady quill, know that I understand the gravity of your undertaking, and the implication that for better or worse, that this may be an irreversibly defining point in your life.
For this, I can never truly express the depth of my gratitude, nor will I ever forgive myself for forcing you along this path before your time. You are an adult now. I can imagine that you have not considered yourself as a filly for some while, but allow me to state that from my perspective, perched atop a veritable mountain of lifetimes, this is where the joyful innocence of childhood ends, and the sobering responsibility of adulthood begins.
You’re welcome...
Princess Celestia.
Twilight furled the letter, and shakily placed it upon the growing pile.
Her eyes squeezed shut as she opened the next letter before her. She peeked slightly to see the familiar bold strokes of Luna’s hoofwriting.
TWILIGHT SPARKLE
I HAVE RECENTLY RECEIVED AN ANONYMOUS CORRESPONDENCE THAT HAS DESCRIBED A FORTUNATE TURN OF EVENTS FOR A FAMILY OF PONIES THROUGH ANECDOTAL CIRCUMSTANCE. THE CHANGE OF FORTUNE, AS DESCRIBED, IS ATTRIBUTABLE TO THE FORWARDING OF THIS CORRESPONDENCE TO FIFTEEN OF ONE’S CLOSEST FRIENDS, IN THAT DOING SO WOULD GRANT THE SENDER OF THE LETTERS GOOD LUCK AND FAIR FORTUNE. AS SUCH, I DO HOPE TO SEE YOU BENEFIT FROM THIS SUDDEN WINDFALL AS WELL. I KNOW NOT WHAT SORCERY ALLOWS THIS TO HAPPEN, BUT SURELY YOUR STUDY INTO THE MAGIC OF FRIENDSHIP MAY SHED LIGHT UNTO THE UNDERPINNING NATURE OF THIS AMAZING PROSPECT.
P.S.
PER INSTRUCTION, I AM TO SEND FIFTEEN COPIES OF THIS LETTER TO MY FRIENDS. AS SUCH, I CAN ONLY THINK OF YOU, MY SISTER, AND CAPTAIN DORNIER, TO WHOM I HAVE SENT FIVE COPIES EACH. I HOPE THEY FIND YOU WELL!
PRINCESS LUNA
From within the confines of the library, a muffled scream could be heard through a thick goose down pillow. It sounded vaguely like “idiots!”
Dearest Twilight Sparkle
If my sister asks you for that “John Canter and the Planet of Mares” book again...
Don’t.
Just don’t.
I am completely serious. I’ve read the pages where her bookmarks are kept. That is, when she even reads at all, instead of staring at the “art” on the cover . And don’t even ask how I know which parts she seems to enjoy the most.
If you need me, I will be gouging my eyes out with various kitchen utensils.
You have my thanks.
P.S.
I don’t know where that book is right now, but if she ever returns it, color me surprised if some of the pages aren’t stuck together.
P.P.S
Wash your hooves.
Yours,
Princess Celestia.
Twilight rolled her eyes and flicked the letter towards the growing organized pile.
“Gods... What’s next?”
dearest twilight sparkle
you asked me if the ring always bears the truth
i said yes
i pray to what gods ruled this land since before equestria arose that i am wrong
keep applejack safe
princess luna
Twilight stared for a moment. It was Luna’s writing. Concise yet cryptic, but a pale shadow of her bold assertive voice.
“Keep Applejack safe,” Twilight whispered softly. She shivered, thinking back to how Luna had recoiled away from the antechamber doors.
What did she see?
The scroll slowly furled itself, and set atop the pile of read letters.
Another letter at random presented itself.
Dearest Twilight Sparkle
As I write this with trembling hooves, I am overwhelmed with the sensations the day brings to us. Just us two. The brilliant rays of sunlight cast their glow over our land. The morning dew clings to the grass, and fights for purchase within our prickled fur. In the chilled air, our heaving breath bursts forth as plumes of steam, laden heavily with our musky aromas...
“Oh god!” Twilight shouted, rearing her head away from the letter. She leaned back for a closer look.
...the bit fits snugly behind your teeth, and I pull gently upon the reigns. Tugging firmly as I thrust...
“OH GOD!” Twilight leapt from the bed, huddling beside it. She peered cautiously over the edge, to see the letter still floating mid-air, suspended with a slight glow of magic.
She stared for several moments longer, breathing heavily. Her eyes narrowed at the tawdy prose from across the bed. Slowly she stood, regarding the letter with a fiercely judicious and disapproving gaze.
Her head turned to each side. Her ears pricked up, listening for any sounds within the library. She checked her clock. Fifteen minutes until Noon.
Swiftly she jumped back onto the bed, flattening the scroll against the headboard. Her eyes darted back and forth fervishly. She bit her lip at one paragraph, and let her jaw drop at the next.
“Ohhhh god...”
It was three minutes until Noon.
Twilight’s breath came in fast shallow puffs. The letter was nearing it’s end, and she could not be torn away.
Just then, a loud terrible explosion thundered overhead. Twilight leaped in alarm, impaling the parchment with her horn, and punching through the thin wooden headboard behind it.
The meticulously stacked pyramid of scrolls tumbled into an incoherent mess, intermingling with the other indistinguishable letters that had not yet been read.
Overhead, a rainbow hued shock wave could be seen spreading across the bright blue sky. Residents of Ponyville looked on in awe, and the whole town briefly experienced a moment of near silence.
A moment of silence, cut short by an enraged scream from the Ponyville Library, in a language that would have left Captain Laurie awestruck.
* * *
Laurie and Trent threw themselves to the ground as the shockwave rattled their lungs and rang within their ears.
“What did you do!”
“Nothing! That wasn’t me!”
“Flaming slit trench barbecue! What the hell was it, then!”
“Look! Over there!”
They stared upwards at the spreading rainbow colored ring that blotted out the sky.
Overhead, a blue streak released a brownish orange dot. A tiny juvenile pegasus beat her wings against the thin rarefied air as she arced across the sky on a ballistic trajectory. The faster blue pegasus sailed around the arc in a tight loop, fighting centripetal acceleration through the constant hard turn. The two met again in a shallow dive, before sharply executing a Split-S maneuver.
“Ohhh, wow... Wait! What about that pony that followed us? Trent!”
“It’s all right,” he said, as his finger curled back into his fist. He waved his hand through another series of gestures. “VLS disarmed. I don’t think she’s after us.”
“She? It’s a she? And what do you mean she’s not after us?”
“I think she’s after you.”
“What! Wait, what color is she. Pink? Is she pink? Tell me!”
“Yes.”
“Oh god, oh god, oh god...”
“And yellow.”
“Pink and yellow? Ohhh... Hey, that sounds familiar. Yes. Ah... Fluffer... Flutter... Fluttersomething!”
“Know her?”
“Ehh. Ran into her once.”
The blue and orange pegasii screamed overhead, just above the treetop level.
“Whoooa... ho, ho, hoo! Did you see that!”
Trent nodded. “Not bad.”
“Freaking amazing! She’d run rings around some of the palace guards, lemme tell you. Oh! Forgot to mention. We can all stand down now! False alarm there. Everything is under control. Threat level has returned to condition four.”
“Who are you talking to?”
“Ahh... Well just you, I guess. Anyways. Glad that’s all over. Good work everyone!”
Trent rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”
“It’s Lancaster actually... Hey!”
The two pegasii rocketed straight into the air, trailing a stream of condensed vapor behind them.
“Oooh, this is gonna be good. Oh, wait a minute! I think I recognize that blue one!”
“They both look familiar to me too.”
“Wait, what now? When did you meet them?”
“Once at Sugarcube Corner, and once back in the forest.”
“Ohh, right.”
The light blue pegasus raced down from the top of her arc, deftly grabbing hold of the younger pegasus as they swooped into level flight. Laurie stood on his hind hooves, whistling and waving at the two, who rolled in acknowledgement as they passed overhead.
“Did you see that? Did you see that!” Laurie shouted as he tracked the flying duo.
Trent’s attention was elsewhere. A bright yellow and pink pegasus had taken to the air, straining her wings as she attempted to speed past the sky where Laurie had been looking moments ago. She attempted to roll in a tight spiral, but her legs flung outward from the sudden angular acceleration, tumbling her body into an end-over-end spin. She attempted to recover with a panicked flapping of her wings, but to no avail. Trent watched as she slowly arced into the treeline, disappearing in a shower of leaves and small branches.
“Naah, think I missed it.”
“Well, they just landed. Wanna go meet her?”
“Be with you in a minute. Going to take a quick stroll into the woods over there.”
“Ahh. The call of nature. No worries there. I’ll be waiting. Anyways! Hey! Hey, you there! Remember me from the forest the other night? Name’s Captain Lancaster, Imperial Canterlot Guard. Lemme just say that was absolutely brilliant flying! Brilliant!”
* * *
Fluttershy lay still within a webbing of branches. The epicenter of surprise and terror to the many birds and squirrels that had occupied the leafy boughs just moments prior.
Her muscles were tender and her bones were sore, but her pride had been completely eviscerated. Tears slowly dripped from her eyes, falling far and fast to the compost rich forest floor below.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid...” she sobbed.
Her thoughts raced. Half of them urged her to reconsider. To eschew adventure. To live the life that she was cut out for. The other half jeered loudly in her mind, “I told you so!”
The sound of footsteps approached, suddenly drawing her attention.
“Um, Hello?” a voice called from below.
She froze for a moment, not sure how to respond.
“Oh. Hello,” she softly spoke after some hesitation.
“Are you okay? That looked like it hurt.”
“I... I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine. Can I help you down from there?”
“That’s very nice, and I appreciate the offer, but I can get down by myself. I just.. need a minute.”
“I have all the time in the world.”
Fluttershy blew a frizzled tuft of pink mane from her face, as she slowly positioned herself to stand on the thicker branches below. Her hooves offered a merely tenuous grip upon the thin bark. Getting down was becoming much more difficult than she had anticipated, and there was very little room to attempt to spread her wings. She shifted her weight slightly, reaching one hoof for the next branch below.
The bark slipped from the branch, sending her rear hoof flying out from under her. She tumbled through the mesh of thinner sticks and twigs with a frightened squeal, racing towards the unforgiving ground.
Just before she struck, a set of arms wrapped around her body. She collided heavily with Trent, as he fell backwards with the weight of one terrified pink and yellow pegasus on top of him.
“Ow...”
“Oh my, are you all right?” Fluttershy gasped. “Oh, its you! And you speak! I couldn’t be sure when I followed you earlier. I mean, when I saw you earlier! Ohh...”
“Owww...”
“Oh, right. I should probably get off of you. I’m sorry.”
Trent tried to sit up, sending pain shooting through his back where he had landed on a knotted tree root. He hissed as he moved, with his teeth bared.
Fluttershy’s eyes went wide as she backed away slowly.
“Arghh... Wait. Don’t go. You don’t need to be afraid. I don’t bite.”
She paused, still eyeing him with apprehension.
“You really shouldn’t sneak up on people like that. You actually had us a little scared,” Trent groaned as he propped his back against the base of the tree. “Why were you following us, if I might ask?”
“I had you scared? Oh my. I don’t look scary to you, do I? I’m sorry. You don’t need to be frightened though. I’m really nice.”
“Likewise,” Trent groaned.
“Umm...” The pink and yellow pegasus averted her gaze momentarily, brushing one forehoof through the leafy soil. “I’m sorry about following you before.”
“Were you following me, by chance?”
“Oh, no. Not at all. Well, actually, yes. Just a little bit. But it’s for something else. It’s not important right now.”
“Some pony in uniform, rather?”
Fluttershy squeaked. Her face erupted with a gleeful smile, before disappearing into wide-eyed shocked embarrassment.
“Oh, well. Eep! I mean... Ohh...”
The ‘Morse Code’ series of nervous squeaks and gasps told Trent everything.
“Have you tried to talk to him?”
The squeaking rose in pitch and tempo.
“I see... Would you like to go talk to him?”
She gasped for breath, shaking her head side to side as she peered out from behind the smooth locks of pink mane.
“Still working up to it?”
She nodded weakly.
“Is that why you tried to fly past us earlier? To, ah... Introduce yourself?”
Fluttershy looked down meekly. “Not really.”
“To show off in front of us?”
An imperceptible nod conveyed her response.
“Sort of like that other blue pony? Er... pegasus. The one that Laurie is talking to right now?”
Fluttershy’s head jerked up, eyes level with Trent.
“You know, I’ve heard that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. But somehow, I don’t think that’s what you had in mind.”
“No.” she softly growled.
“Do you know her by chance? That blue pegasus with a the rainbow hair. It’s really quite dashing on her.”
“Yes.”
“Ahh. Are you good friends with her?”
“Yes...” she spoke through gritted teeth.
“Hmmm...” Trent furrowed his brow, as he contemplated the seething ball of barely contained rage before him.
“You’re not mad at her, are you?”
“Well, no... I’m...”
“You’re mad at yourself?”
Fluttershy marched forward several steps, placing her nose within inches of Trent’s. Her wide eyes had narrowed to angry slits, each pupil gleamed with the polish and precision of an interstellar warship’s laser collimator.
“Yes,” she hissed.
“Mmm. But you don’t want to be like her, though? Am I right? You want to keep being yourself, but you want yourself to be something... Something more. Something you can be proud of.”
“Well... Yes.”
“But you cant.”
The glare returned at full intensity.
“Or... At least you think you can’t.”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I already know the answer.”
The human and pegasus stared at each other for an interminable time.
“You know... I could teach you to fly.”
Fluttershy’s face screwed into a visage of incredulous annoyance. She hopped up, flapping her wings gently as she hovered in front of Trent.
He pretended not to notice.
“Can you fly? I don’t see any wings.”
“Don’t need em.”
“Then why are you wasting my time?”
Fluttershy dropped to the ground, and turned to leave.
“She can fly pretty fast, right?”
“Her name is Rainbow Dash. And yes, she can.”
“I can make you go faster.”
She paused, mid-stride.
“Higher. Farther. Longer...”
“She’s the fastest flier in Equestria!”
“Yes. For now.”
“...How fast?”
“The light of day would have trouble keeping up.”
She turned again to face Trent, staring with exasperation.
“You can’t be serious.”
“You’re quite right. I shall only be exactly as serious as you are willing to be, which is to say, not at all right now.”
Trent leaned forward from the tree, standing up and turning back to the field.
“But the offer stands. You know where to find me. Hard to miss, and all that.”
Fluttershy watched as he strode off. She shook her head and began marching home.
* * *
“Oh, hey! There you are! Took you long enough.”
“Good to see you too.”
“So, anyways! Had a great meeting with that pegasus we saw. Really hit it off. She goes by the name of Rainbow Dash. How cool is that?”
“Mmm. Pretty cool, I suppose. Is she still here?”
“Nah, took off a few minutes ago. Her and the orange filly too. Real chip off the block, that one is. Bet she could melt the ears off a drill stallion when she grows up. Feisty and fearless.”
“Fearless, hmm?”
“Anyways, while you were out doing god knows what, we got to know each other a bit. Says she’s been trying out for the Wonderbolts team. Lifelong ambition of hers there. Gotta admire that sort of commitment.”
“Yeah.”
“And I told her how I felt about that. Really impressed, that is to say. And it’s true. Not just me sprinkling out compliments like birdseed. Guess she saw how sincere I was, and next thing ya know, there was a bit of the back n forth. Got mushy enough to make that orange filly nearly gag! Hah! Know I was that way at her age. She called me some things that I haven’t heard since the academy! Now that filly’s got some spirit!”
“Is there a point to this?”
“Yeah! Yeah, I was just getting to that. So while you were out, we got to talking, and one thing lead to another. And I sorta popped the question.”
“Oh?”
“And... Well, she said she’s gonna think about it. Definitely interested though. You know how it is. Big decision and all that. I mean, here’s me. Grizzled old Royal Canterlot guardspony Captain. Veteran. War hero... Someday, maybe. And her. Just getting into her prime. Whole life ahead of her. Just brings a tear to my eye imagining the two of us growing old, seeing the world, building up a solid career.
“I see.”
“Ohh, and there’s a bonus too!”
“What’s that?”
“Uhh... Well, It’s... It’s a bonus. Typically a lump monetary sum on top of a regular paycheck. Usually handed out for exceptional performance, or on a regular yearly cycle.”
“No, no. What’s the bonus supposed to be?”
“Ohh. Ahh, I’d have to look it up. Tends to change up every few years. I think it starts at about three hundred bits for the first recruitment, and then goes up in twenty-five bit increments from there for additional recruits.”
Trent’s jaw hung open for a moment.
“I know! Right?” Laurie squealed with excitement. “Then I think its another hundred on top of that for picking up someone who’s got the aptitude to fast track to officer academy. She’s a right shoe-in for that. Oh, and you know what else? There’s a thirty bit per month stipend for recruitment duties, and that lasts half a year right there!”
“Laurie?”
“Huh?”
“Do you like her?”
“Uhh, well... She seems pretty allright. Wouldn’t mind joining her for a brew sometime when she gets old enough for that sorta thing. Probably have to wait a while anyways, otherwise it’d seem like fraternizing - and I wouldn’t want her to get in trouble over that. Gotta keep it professional, you know.”
“Ahh... Yes, of course. For a minute there is sounded like...”
“Ohhh! Ohhh, no, no, no. Not exactly my kinda type for... well, that. I mean she’s great and all, but I don’t think I could handle a twenty-four slash seven stream of whatever she’s full of. I mean, you know me, right?”
“Not really.”
“I mean I’m generally the quiet type. Like to read a lot, generally keep my nose clean. Sorta shy sometimes too. Not really that good at dealing with other ponies.”
“Never would have guessed that.”
“So, you know... I’d probably do better with someone that was kinda like that. Quiet, demure... Just a bit of an assertive streak. Hard to find somepony like that though. I probably wouldn’t know though, even if I smacked right into their flank.”
“Mmm.”
“Eh, what’s that now? You’ve got that ‘I’m thinking up some bastardly scheme’ sort of look on your face again.”
“Oh, it’s not that, I assure you. I was just about to head over to the forest again for a bit.”
“Again? Already? And is that really the face you make when you... Nevermind. Nevermind. Don’t wanna know. Um, you gonna meet me back here when you’re done?”
“Yes.”
“Where to afterwards, then?”
“We’ll see.”
* * *
The afternoon sun beat down upon the grassy clearing. From either side, one pony and one human entered, striding forth at a slow deliberate pace.
They did not turn.
They did not look at each other.
They stopped in the middle of the clearing, separated by a mere arms length.
There was a period of silence for some time, as they regarded each other. Words were not needed to convey what was said.
Eventually, one of them spoke.
“Are you sure this is what you want?”
“Yes.”
“It won’t be easy.”
The yellow pony nodded.
“It will require, in no uncertain terms; courage, commitment, and perseverance.”
Fluttershy’s head drooped like a wilted rose.
“But I’m not brave like that.”
Trent kneeled before her.
“You wouldn’t have come back, if that was true. Keep your chin up.”
A genuine smile began to creep over her face.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because I see potential in you. I feel that you have the proper drive to do something great with your life. But it’s not a matter of showing you how. It’s a matter of showing that you can.”
“Thank you. But, why?”
“I like to help.”
“Oh.” Her smile brightened perceptibly. “I love helping others too.”
“That’s wonderful, actually. In fact, you’ve given me an idea.”
“Oh? What kind of idea?”
“A good one. Something better than just teaching you how to fly fast.”
“But... I thought that’s what you wanted to show me?”
“That goes without saying. But there’s something more now. Something more important than just teaching you to show off.”
She looked up expectantly, yet puzzled.
“You’ll see.”
She nodded firmly.
“One more thing, I forgot to mention. I’m Trent.”
“I’m Fluttershy. Oooh. That reminds me! I was asked to invite you to a party next week.”
“Ahh. Who’s it for?”
“It’s for you,” she beamed. “My friends are putting it together. We wanted to show you that you’re welcome here, and that we’re all very very excited too meet you.”
“Ahhh. Next week, you say?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Perfect. That gives us more than enough time.”
She gasped slightly.
“You mean that you could show me how to fly really really fast before the party takes place?”
“Of course! As long as you’re willing to keep up.”
Fluttershy nodded with excitement.
“When do we start?”
“We already have. But we have some preparations to make first, so it will be a little while before we’re ready to begin. Need to gather some supplies, make you a suit, and start your training regimen.”
“Ohh... I thought you said we would be ready by the end of the week.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you have a very nice mane?”
Fluttershy blushed slightly, looking around furtively before she answered.
“Oh, yes. Just this morning.”
“That was nice of them.”
“Yes. Well, I mean...” She sighed wistfully. “I hope he thinks that way.”
“Ahh.”
“Trent?” she beat her wings softly, hovering alongside him. “How do you fly?”
“Ahhh... Well, first, an airfoil or lifting body generates a pressure differential...”
Fluttershy rubbed her head gently, at the unexpected tingling sensation.
“No. I mean, how can you fly, if you don’t have wings?”
“I can fly without wings as well as I can run without shoes.”
She gazed quizzically at him.
“Which is to say, not very well.”
“Oh.”
“But, where shoes can help me walk, something called an airplane can help me fly.”
“Eep!” She rubbed her forehead vigorously.
“I’m sorry, did that... Try to make sense?”
“...Yes. How did you know?”
“A bit of magic imparted by your Princess. I can understand what you’re thinking...”
Fluttershy’s eyes shot wide, and her face turned beet red. She slowed to stay behind Trent, out of his view.
“...as you say it. Kind of interesting actually. And it works the other way around too. I say something, and you suddenly think about the meaning of it.”
“Umm... Are you able to read anypony’s thoughts?”
“No. It just helps me understand what they say.”
“Ohh,” she sighed with relief, quivering slightly as her heartbeat slowed back to a hummingbird’s pace.
“But, as you’ve just felt, it doesn’t work right unless we both understand what’s being discussed. Like you’ve probably never seen an air... Eh... You know what I mean.”
“Won’t that be a problem?”
“Only slightly. I can teach you from the ground up, the old fashioned way. That way, you can understand things as you go, rather than trying to understand it all at once.”
“I see.”
They continued to walk, leaving the forest clearing for the rolling meadows.
“Where are we going?”
“The Everfree forest, I believe you call it.”
“Oooh!” she gasped. “No. No, we can’t go there. Not by ourselves. It’s not safe!”
“Hmm... You’re quite right. I hear that it’s the home to the most dangerous creature in all of Equestria.”
“Oh?”
“One that devours tasty animals.”
“Eeeep!”
“One that shoots fire from its hands,” he intoned in a deep rumbling pitch.
“Ooohh! No!”
“One that has set cities ablaze, and left fields of ash in its wake,” he said, as his arms swooped wide in the air.
Fluttershy began to quiver, and fell over on her side. Her legs twitched erratically, despite their imitation of rigor mortis.
“No, no, nooooo!”
“One that has toppled powerful nations!” his voice rose to a booming crescendo.
She gasped.
“One that has ended the lives of entire worlds!” his hands clapped together with a final thunderous retort.
Her mouth hung open, a drawn out silent scream.
Trent stood over her, looking down with an amused grin.
“It’s me!” he exclaimed with bashful modesty. He broke into a mischievous smile as he touched his pinkie to the corner of his lips.
“Whaaaat?”
“Ohh, Fluttershy,” Trent said as he sat down next to her. “Don’t worry. I like to make jokes sometimes.”
She stared at him, her chest heaving rapidly. A nervous laugh bubbled up from within her, as she tried to calm herself.
“Ahh. Ha. Ha. Ha...” she laughed in stuttering bursts. “G..Good one.” Her wide shocked eyes did not dare to waver or blink.
She rolled upright, looking over to Trent.
“But why are we going there?”
“Before we start, I want to show you something. Something that no other pony has seen. Later, I will present you with a choice. One that decides whether you wish to continue, or whether you want to return home. I will support your decision either way.”
“Oh.”
“But before you make that choice, I want you to think deeply about who you are. What drives you. What defines you. It will be a very important decision, and I want you to weigh both options equally.”
“Why? Why would you offer a choice like that?”
“It is not mine to offer. It’s yours entirely.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Well, I don’t want to spoil any surprises... But let us say that I can show you what you could become. And then, you will decide if that is who you want to be.”
“Oh... I thought I already said yes?”
“You did. That’s a great start.”
“But...”
“I want to know that you will continue to say ‘yes’, all the way through till the end. Like how a bird always flies south for the winter, makes a nest for its eggs, and takes time to feed it’s young. What would happen if they decided to shirk that responsibility? It would be fine for them. No consequences. But what happens the next year, when the nests are empty and the air is quiet. Not a song, warble, or chirp.”
“Oh.”
“You said you like to help others, right?”
“Yes. Very much so.”
“Then show me. Show me how deeply ingrained that is. Show me that compassion is your conviction, rather than your hobby.”
“Ohh, but I...”
“No, no. Don’t tell me now. When the question is asked, you will know the answer. Tell me then.”
The two travelled in silence for a short time, plodding through the lush green meadow.
“Umm, Trent?”
“Yes?”
“Do you remember that joke you made earlier? It... Well, it wasn’t very funny.”
“Hrmm? Oh... Yes. That would have been absolutely terrible as a joke.”
Fluttershy looked at Trent for a moment, before shaking her head.
* * *
“Oy! Took you long enough this time! No idea what you’ve been eating lately, but I can safely assume it’s by the shovel-full.”
“Good to see you too, Laurie.”
“Oh, what’s this now? Heey, did you make a new friend there?”
“Yes, indeed. Have you met Fluttershy?”
The pink and yellow pegasus timidly peeked out from behind Trent.
“Ahh, yes. So it is you. Knew we’d see each other again. Or rather, you’d be seeing us. Isn’t that right?”
She nodded, still retreating from Laurie’s chastising gaze.
“Now, now... No need to worry. You’re not in trouble or anything. If Trent’s okay with you getting up close... Ahh... Breaching our defensive perimeter, yeah. Then it’s all right by me. Lot less paperwork that way too, you know. Incident reports. Filed in triplicate. Real world of pain that you don’t want to set hoof upon. So I can let you off with a warning here, see? Please don’t sneak up on our visitor like that. Gave us a bit of a scare earlier, and I was whisker breadth away from springing into action. Didn’t look that way, did it? Just goes to show how well they train us back at Canterlot. Strictly professional. Elite. The vanguard of her Royal Majesty’s armed forces.”
Trent’s eyes rolled far enough to complete a full circle.
“Another minute like that, and I might’ve had to assume the worst. And that’s where the fun starts. All those years of training kicking in. All at once. Take your eyes off us for one second, and then... Gone! Vanished! Look around to try and to spot us again, and that’s when you hear a little rustling in the bushes. Next thing you know, you’re flat on your back, and there’s me! Holding you down against your will... Er... Well, that’s the way it has to be, I mean. Holding you down, until backup arrives. Or till you’ve learned your lesson, I guess. Could be a while, anyways. Holding you down. Probably have to rethink that a bit.”
Fluttershy darted out from behind Trent, her expression erupting into gleeful ecstasy.
“Umm... Yeah. Sorry, let’s forget I said that. Just sorta came out wrong there.”
“I wouldn’t mind!” she blurted out.
“Ahh... That’s the spirit. Cooperation with authorities, due process... All that. Right then. Okay. Sooo... Trent! What’s the plan for today?”
“Taking a little trip into the Everfree forest.”
“Splendid! Er... I mean that’s crazy and dangerous, but great idea nonetheless! Yeah. Ahh, Miss Fluttershy. Sorry to run here, but it appears that duty calls.”
“She’s coming with us.”
“Beg your pardon?”
“There’s something I’d like to show her.”
“It’s not slow agonizing death, or sudden evisceration by some nightmare-given-flesh that might be lurking around in there, is it? Because there is plenty of that.”
“No.”
“Trent. It is dangerous out there,” Laurie repeated.
“That may be. Fortunately, we have the vanguard of Canterlot’s royal forces here, to ensure us safe passage,” he grinned at the nervous brown and white pony.
“Ahhhh...” he raised one hoof in protest - a placeholder for a lengthy verbal rebuttal against the idea of wasting a perfectly good afternoon by dying horribly.
He looked aside to see Fluttershy staring at him expectantly, her hooves clutched together over her chest as she gently hovered with her wings flapping excitedly.
“Lead the way. Captain,” Trent smirked.
Laurie drew a hissed breath through clenched teeth, before shaking his head in resignation and marching towards the treeline at the far end of the meadow.
“...hate you,” he whispered, as he trod by.
The two followed Laurie from a short distance back.
“Umm... Mr. Trent?”
“Yes, Fluttershy?”
“It is dangerous in there. What if we do see a monster?”
“Good question. Some monsters can be quite friendly, you know.”
“But aren’t you scared?”
“No.”
“Because you’ve never met one before?”
“Because they’ve never met me before.”
* * *
The clock read Noon. There was a knock on the door.
Twilight groaned. Partially from the throbbing in her head, and partially from the fragments of the headboard encircling her neck. She tugged back slightly, but found herself stuck.
“Well Twilight, there’s always a logical and rational response to any problem!” she said, to no one in particular.
She smiled. Her horn flared with a twitch of magic. The bed exploded.
“That’s better!” she exclaimed, walking through the maelstrom of wood chips and splinters. She casually brushed the impaled scroll from her horn, watching it lazily drift to the floor.
“And what a great idea. Writing letters to convey your deepest feelings. And just not sending them! Ha. Ha.”
She turned her cheerful gaze to her writing desk. It exploded.
“Ohh, they just don’t make them like they used to...” she trotted happily across the room.
A single scorched sheet of paper floated above the carnage of it’s former home. It was gripped violently by an unseen force, jerked upwards, and slammed against the wall.
Twilight grinned at the blank sheet, contorting her lips into the smile of a Cheshire Cat, and lolling her head to one side. A quill floated alongside her - ink still dripping from it’s sharpened nib.
“Never can decide what I’m going to write...”
The quill shot forward at the immobile sheet. It slashed, it stabbed, and it drew tiny hearts over the letter “i”. The corners of her lips twitched upwards with each violent stroke.
The paper fell to the floor, lifeless. She wrenched it back into the air, hovering just inches before her face.
“Nothing like a job well done!” she exhaled happily. The letter hung in the air for a moment, before abruptly bursting into flames.
Not the magical aether kind.
The burning kind.
Oddly enough, it did make her feel better.
The knocking at the door repeated. She checked her clock again.
Two minutes past twelve.
“Well, time to open the doors to Ponyville’s book reading public!”
The clock imploded into a steel ball the size of a marble, and fell to the floor.
* * *
Applebloom raised her hoof to knock a third time, but thought against it.
“Horsefeathers...” She turned to leave, just as the door opened behind her.
“Oh, hello Applebloom. Please do come in.” Twilight greeted from beyond the threshold.
“Hi missus Twilight. How’re you doin today?” she trotted inside.
“Just wonderful actually. I’ve been trying a few therapeutic exercises recently, and now I’m feeling very relaxed and refreshed!”
“That sounds mighty swell. Shucks, I know there’s some days I’m feeling a bit steamed, and it just makes me wanna see the whole town go up in a big ol ball of flame. Might hafta try some of them exercises myself sometime,” she grinned sheepishly.
“Yeaaah... I know how that can feel,” Twilight said with a wistful roll of her eyes.
“Anyhow, I figured it was high time I brought these back,” Applebloom reached into her saddlebags and tossed a small stack of books onto the nearest chair. “And you can keep this one too. Wasn’t much all that interesting,” she picked up John Canter and the Planet of Mares with her teeth and set it atop the pile.
Twilight’s ears twitched.
“Gotta wonder who reads this stuff. I mean, just look at it.”
The cover depicted an enormous warhorse, standing atop a ruins of a castle wall. The sky was a blackened tapestry with a smattering of stars, and the barren landscape was dotted with towering spires of grey rock. A metal tube with wide fins and a tapered nose sat upright in the distance. The warhorse clutched a spear within it’s yellowed teeth, holding it’s head high, with knotted muscles that rippled all the way from it’s neck to it’s obscenely bulging hindquarters. A bevy of green hued otherworldly mares lay supplicant around it’s stout hooves.
“I don’t think they even bother reading it.”
“Heh,” Applebloom replied, as she wandered into the library, zipping from one shelf to the other.
“Missus Twilight, do you know if there are any more of these sorta books? Any more with excitin adventure and all kinda unknown things happenin?”
“I think you’re looking at all of them right there,” she pointed at the stack.
“Awww.”
“But we do have a fairly wide selection of other genres. Books that deal with what we know, rather than any made-up fantasies.”
Applebloom’s enthusiasm deflated noticeably.
“That’s allright Miss Sparkle. Don’t think I got time for all that, what with all the chores I gotta get to.”
“Hmm... Why do you like those books so much? I’ve read them myself, but I didn’t learn anything, and they weren’t even very well written.”
“Oh, I don’t read em to learn about things. I read em to think about things!” Applebloom pranced with wide eyed excitement.
“Eh?”
“I know it sounds like a whole mess of gobbledygook in there, and often times they can’t even get it straight themselves. But I like it when they talk about ideas that are all new and exciting. Not for what’s it themselves, but because fer what they can do! How things get all changed up. Like... Like... Ohh, I know. One of them books talked about planets actually being whole giant worlds all of them own, and because of that, they had to travel between em in giant metal tubes that shoot flames out the back. Crazy huh? And another one where everypony could talk back n forth to any other pony out there - but without havin to put a letter in the mail, or havin some dragon spit fire on it. It’s little things like that, that make it all exciting. Thinking that someday we could see that sorta thing fer ourselves.”
“Planets?” Twilight eyed Applebloom curiously.
“Yes Missus Sparkle. Ah know. They’re really just tiny lil dots that come out with the stars. Just like we learned in school.
“Ooh, no. It’s not that... Um...” Twilight wrestled with her response for a moment.
“It’s okay, I know what’s in them books is all just made up make-believe.”
Twilight shook her head, through no conscious effort of her own. She leaned in close to Applebloom, with a nearly conspiratorial expression.
“It’s okay to question things. It’s good, actually. There’s a lot that we don’t know yet.”
“But I thought you knew near just about everything?”
Twilight shook her head again. “I thought I did, too.”
“Huh?”
“It’s hard to explain.”
“Missus Twilight, I think I might kinda know.”
“Oh?”
“It’s kinda like a dark room with all the lights turned off. But just because you c’ain’t see nothin, doesn’t mean there ain’t nothin in there.”
“Oh... And asking questions is like lighting a candle to help you see your way around.”
“Well, kinda, yeah. But here’s the thing. What if that room’s so big that the candle can’t light up the walls on the far side. Still doesn’t mean it’s full of nothing. There’s just more stuff out there that we can’t see yet, till we get some more candles.”
“Or turn on the light switch.”
“Yeh, but you ain’t never gonna find that light switch until you get in there and start flailing around a bit.”
“Is that why you like those stories so much? Because they like to talk about the unknown?”
“Ahh... I guess. Sometimes they have pretty neat pictures in em too.”
They both turned to look at the book on top of the pile.
“‘Cept that one...”
Twilight giggled.
“You know - I think you should meet Trent sometime. You kinda talk like he does.”
“Who?”
“Our visitor.”
“You mean the giant metal thing with a head made outta glass?!” Applebloom’s eyes went wide with a mixture of fear and excitement.
“Yes, and no. That’s him, but that metal armor is just a suit he wears.”
“Oh! Ooohh... I was wondering who that tall mostly hairless monkey thing was. Gosh. How do you think he does his business while wearin a whole ton of moving metal?”
“I never thought to ask...” Twilight deadpanned.
“Wait a second. Did you say he can talk too?”
“Yes.”
“That sure is convenient...” she remarked suspiciously.
“Oh, it’s not that. He can’t speak our language on his own. We used magic to help him communicate.”
“Ah... Wonder how he got here too. More magic?”
“He doesn’t have magic. If he used something to get here, it was probably something called technology.”
“What’s that? Is it like magic?”
“Only when it’s sufficiently advanced, apparently.”
“What if... What if he got here in somethin that’s made outta technology?”
“Made out of it? That’s just... How can you make something out of a skill or ability.”
“I dunno.”
“Well...”
“And you don’t neither!” she snapped.
Twilight sighed. She had a point.
“Er... I’m sorry, missus Twilight.”
“No, it’s okay. Asking questions like that is what helps us discover new things. And it never hurts to ask, even if we’re wrong.”
“Cuz if we never ask all the wrong questions, we might not ever find the right ones!” Applebloom beamed.
“Are you sure you haven’t met Trent before?”
“Umm...”
“Besides that.”
Applebloom shook her head.
“Hmmm... Miss Twilight? What other sorta things did he talk about?”
“Well, he did talk about science. The act of observing natural phenomena, creating a hypothesis that attempts to describe how it might work, and then performing testing and experimentation to see if the hypothesis can match or predict the observed results.”
“Oh? Well, that kinda makes sense pretty well.”
“I know. It’s something I’ve done myself, even if I didn’t know it at the time. But he told me how much they use it, and how many things they’ve discovered before they could even see them directly. It’s like they have the act of doing science, down to a science!”
“Gosh... That’d be somethin fun to try.”
“After you finish school, you mean?”
“Well, not really... I mean, why wait around to get started?”
“Because you’d need to learn the fundamental laws first. And then...”
“Yeh, I get all that. But just learnin about things ain’t gonna do me a lick of good if I wanna think about things.”
“Why don’t you learn things first, and then think about them later?”
“Because thinkin about things is what makes me wanna learn about em in the first place! Don’t work the other way ‘round.”
“But how would that even work?”
Appleblooms eyes widened. “I know. You said that science involves making an idea, and then running an experiment to see if it matches up, right?”
“Yes... That’s part of it, at least.”
Applebloom ran to the chair, and tapped her hoof on the stack of far-fetched stories.
“Just like this here! Some of these books have ideas that are outta this world. That’s like a hypothesis right there!”
“But there’s no way to test that.”
“Not yet! But someday maybe. Someday we might be able to build giant flaming metal tubes that can take us out there and see what them planets actually look like up close. Someday we might all be able to fly around without wings, or travel back in time to keep ourselves from doin’ something we didn’t know we was gonna regret. Can’t know till we try and test it out, but we ain’t gonna test it out if we don’t got the ideas to start with!”
“Yes, but there’s no way that you can experiment like that. Some of the ideas in those books won’t even be possible for a very long time.”
“Oh, I know it. But that’s just the thing. Coming up with those ideas now means somepony can try and run an experiment way off in the future!”
“In the future, you say?”
“Yep! Reckon that’s where all the fun stuff is, anyhow.”
“Are you sure you haven’t talked to Trent?”
“Not yet... Any reason in particular?”
“No reason...”
The two ponies stared at anywhere but each other for a short time. Adrift through the sudden lull in the conversation, as a ship without the wind beating its sails.
“Well, it was very nice of you to stop by...” Twilight began. “If I see any more books like those, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
“Mmm, yeah... Uh, missus Twilight?”
“Yes?”
“Do you have any paper? That I could borrow?”
“Borrow? It’s not exactly borrowing if it comes back covered in words.”
“Well this is a library, ain’t it? Figure I’d be doin you a favor if it came back like that.”
Twilight rolled her eyes and furrowed her brow. A thick ream of paper floated up from the lower shelf, and firmly crammed itself inside Applebloom’s saddlebag.
“There you go...”
“Oh, and do you have a pen or a quill I could borrow too?”
From the upper floor, a sharpened quill darted upwards from the ruins of the bedroom, flitting about in the air, before aligning on the young red-maned pony. It shot forward, covering the distance in a heartbeat, stopping just inches from her nose.
“Ah, much obliged,” she stated, as she gripped it with her teeth and placed it within her bag. “Gonna need it back anytime soon?”
“Keep it.”
* * *
The trip through Everfree forest had been fairly quiet. Not necessarily because Trent had instructed them to be quiet, but rather that Laurie and Fluttershy were equally terrified of saying anything further within earshot of each other.
He walked slowly. A casual pace where he seemed to know his footsteps well in advance, and simply allowed his body to slither along from one to the next. As he walked, he held his arm out in front of him, swinging it lazily from side to side. A rounded rectangle of polished metal with a ring fused to one end lay within his upturned palm, held loose within his fingers.
“We’re here,” he announced as he slipped the device back into his pocket.
“Where?” the two ponies asked at once.
Trent stuck his fingers into the plastic camouflage curtain and tugged it aside.
“Inside here.”
They stepped through. The sunlight filtered through the plastic mesh, showing each irregular swatch. Overhead, a drab metal structure hung over them, vibrantly coloured in many shades of grey and black.
“What is this?” Fluttershy trembled.
“Think I know... This is what those guards were looking for earlier. The draft pegasii team told me about it our last flight. Said they were ordered to go find it, and setup a perimeter. Thing is, they never could find it! Said they ended up searching for a few hours, before just setting up camp someplace, and telling the rest of em that’s where they were supposed to be. Case of ‘lets not, and say we did’ sorta thing.”
“Hmm... Our little secret for now, then.” Trent mused.
“You know what this thing is?”
“Of course.”
He pointed his finger at the structure’s belly and bent his wrist downward. There was a sound of many slick steel pins sliding out, and the blackened hull plate lowered with a soft hiss. A second ramp laid down over the first, telescoping out until it pressed into the forest floor. A cavernous black gulf stood before them, beyond the sharp edges of the rectangular threshold.
“After you.”
Fluttershy stood at the base of the ramp, nearly paralyzed. She looked up at Trent with pleading eyes.
“You will be fine.” Trent stated.
She gulped, closing her eyes and letting one hoof fall forward. It struck the ramp with a metallic ting. The second hoof fell, causing the ramp to echo with a tiny reverberation.
“Trent. Trent! What are you playing at?” Laurie hissed. “What’s inside there? Why are you making her go?”
Fluttershy’s hoof slid backwards slightly, towards the familiar soil of Equestria.
“What is inside bears no importance at this point. And I am not making her go. She has to do that on her own.”
“Trent. What is inside there?” he raised one hoof at the inky black shade.
“The unknown. The future.”
Fluttershy let her hoof slide back, until just the tip was touching the ramp. She looked sidelong at Trent again.
He smiled reassuringly. “You will be fine.”
Trent marched up the ramp, stopping at the halfway point. He turned back, and offered his outstretched palm.
“Are you sure this is what you want to do?” he asked.
Fluttershy raised her hoof from the ramp, staring at it for a moment. She turned to look back through the camouflage mesh canopy, to the filtered beams of sunlight, and the lush vegetation of the forest outside. Beyond the shimmering mesh veil, the life that she knew well.
Beyond the ramp, a dark gulf. That which she knew nothing of.
Fluttershy turned without flourish, marching up the ramp with measured pace. She hesitated as she approached, nearly stopping short of Trent. Her hoof thrust out, coming to rest firmly in his hand, just as her legs would carry her no further. She looked up, trembling and breathing heavily through nervous shudders.
Trent smiled back.
“You did very well.”
Fluttershy’s back stiffened, and her legs straightened. She rose to look at Trent.
“I don’t think I could have come this far without you.”
“I don’t think you would have come very far without yourself.”
She broke into a short laugh.
“Um, Trent? That joke was pretty terrible too.”
“Heh. Yes it was, wasn’t it.”
Trent turned to look at the brown and white pony standing by the edge of the ramp.
“Captain Laurie!”
“What.”
“Did you say that the Celestia’s guards were looking to setup a perimeter around here?”
“Yes, assuming they haven’t buggered off and left already.”
“Ahh... It appears to be your lucky day then!”
Laurie groaned hard enough to make himself heard.
“We won’t be longer than a minute. Just going inside to get something.”
“Whatever.” Laurie snapped off a salute, before turning and stiffly marching several paces toward the opening in the mesh. At this point, he tossed his satchel to the ground, fished out a dog-eared pocketbook, and laid down.
“Miss Fluttershy, are you ready to continue?”
She looked up at the dark interior one more time, swallowing nervously.
“Yes, I think...”
“Splendid!”
Trent snapped his fingers, and the two ramps shot upwards, sealing against the belly of the craft with a tight hiss. Trent and Fluttershy were gone.
Fluttershy buckled from the sudden jolt upwards. The acceleration stopped abruptly, leaving her suspended in air for a brief moment, legs scrambling to regain their purchase.
The last rays of daylight narrowed to a thin band. A razor-fine sliver that shone brilliantly against the pitch blackness surrounding her. And then it was gone, leaving no hint of the world outside.
She swung her head from side to side in panic, straining to see.
“Trent! Trent!” she cried softly.
“I’m here.” She could feel his steady grip around her forehoof.
“I can’t see. I can’t see anything!”
“Ahh, but you can hear me, yes?”
“Yes,” she whimpered.
“You can sense many things, even without your sight. Concentrate on those. What can you feel?”
“I’m scared.”
“That’s okay.”
“No, no, no. It’s not. I’m afraid Trent.”
“It’s okay,” he said soothingly. “I’ve been afraid of many things too.”
“But... What about this? Are you afraid of this?”
“No. It’s just a dark room. Now, I’ll turn the lights on in a moment, but there’s something I want you to do for me first.”
She responded through a whimper and a nod.
“Relax. Don’t panic. You’re perfectly safe here, even if your mind is screaming otherwise. Can you do that for me?”
“Y.. Yes,” she stammered.
“Just try to relax. Relax harder, if you have to. Breathe slowly. You’re in control of yourself, even if it doesn’t feel that way.”
“Okay,” she said. Her hoof returned to the floor. A metallic tap that pinged into the cavernous space, echoing back softly.
“Are you still afraid?”
“Yes! Well... No, actually. Just a little, now.” She tapped at the floor again.
“You’re doing very well. I think that’s rather brave of you.”
“Ohh, but I don’t feel very brave.”
“That’s okay. If you didn’t feel a little afraid at first, then you wouldn’t be brave at all. Just foolhardy, or overconfident. And that sort of approach can end very badly.”
“Oh, I see.”
“You can never really know what the future holds, and every little step along the way may bring it’s own surprises.”
“And the future is the unknown. That’s what you said, right?”
“Yes. And there’s no shame in being cautious. Anyways, I’m about to turn the lights on. Close your eyes for a moment, will you?”
“Okay,” she said. Her eyes squeezed shut.
There was a high pitched humming noise, and a short silence. It left her feeling dizzy for a moment, which quickly grew into a deeply unsettling sensation. She was falling.
“Trent! Trent!” she shouted, as her eyelids shot open. The lights overhead flared to life, causing her to wince as she shut them tightly again. Her hooves scrabbled at the steel floor until she could no longer feel it.
“Easy there,” he said.
Fluttershy’s hooves tapped the steel deck again, as the feeling of weight returned, and her stomach no longer felt as if it was trying to crawl out through her throat.
“What was that?” she demanded, cautiously opening her eyes again.
“Fun!” he squealed, through a big stupid grin.
She looked aside from Trent for a moment. Smooth steel walls surrounded her, slowly coming into focus through the bleary afterimage of the overhead lights. Blackened spots resolved into a regular pattern of squat mushroom shaped rubber protrusions. A coarse mesh of vivid purple and muted grey rope netting strung taut between them.
The room was spacious, yet it felt cramped. A minuscule volume compared to the hulking mass of the structure outside. The utilitarian scheme left any single feature as wholly unremarkable. Yet taken together, they conveyed a sense of dizzying precision and fluidly organic design.
“Trent?” She asked again. “What was that, really? It felt like I was falling. No... I was falling! I left the ground without moving my wings!”
“Ahh, that was artificially induced gravity. Mind you, not quite the same as artificial gravity. Two totally different principles. Even if we sometimes use the word interchangeably...”
“What? What do you mean by artificial?” The words made sense by themselves, but felt unpleasantly foreign when used together.
“Come to think of it, that was actually the lack of gravity. Artificial, or otherwise.”
Fluttershy lowered herself to the deck. It pressed back against her, reassuringly.
“But... Gravity pulls everypony down. How could it stop? Did you make it stop?”
“Errmm... No and yes, but not really.”
“Trent!”
“Well, you know what gravity is, right. Or at least we both have the same general concept. It’s the force that pulls you down. But that’s not exactly the most accurate way to describe it.”
“Okay...”
“In a nutshell, mass makes gravity. Planets have a lot of mass, so they make the gravity that holds you down.”
“Oh, thank Luna.”
“What?”
“For bringing out the planets at night.”
“Ehh... The ball of rock you’ve been standing on all morning is a planet too. That’s what makes the gravity that you feel.”
Fluttershy responded wordlessly with a look of stunned disbelief.
“So, there’s that. Gravity. Scary stuff actually... You know we used to think it was the weakest of the four fundamental forces in the universe. I mean, it still is, for most intents and purposes. And that’s not to say that it’s as strong, or stronger than the other forces, because that’s a meaningless comparison. There’s no fixed way to measure it really, especially since we haven’t really nailed down whether it’s weakly interacting, or it simply has a.. “long” way to get to our dimension. Either way though, thank whatever deity you ascribe to that we’re pretty well insulated from it.”
“...What?”
“I’m sorry, I’ll try to keep it straightforward. Planets have lots of mass, mass makes gravity, and that’s why trees grow up, and we fall down. Any questions?”
Her usual countenance of surprise and terror has been firmly stuck in baffled incredulity for some time now. Finally she spoke.
“Then where did the gravity go?”
“Ahh, perhaps you should ask, ‘where did the planet go?’”
The look of surprise and terror returned with a vengeance.
“Did something happen to Equestria! Is it still there?”
“Nothing happened to it. I’m sure it’s fine.”
“Then... Oh... What’s going on?”
“Discovery!”
“Oh... You don’t make any sense... Ever!” She huffed in frustration.
“Well lets step back for a second. Where are we right now?”
“Inside of a metal box,” she looked around nervously.
“Are you still afraid of this metal box?” He gestured around the cavernous confines.
“Well... No. Not really.”
“Ahh. Splendid! You were afraid when you first ventured inside, but now that you’ve seen it, it’s not nearly as intimidating.”
“But what does that have to do with anything?”
“Well, to venture off on a tangent for a moment, I’d like to say that I’ve appreciated the welcome I’ve received from those I’ve met. Welcomed to Equestria, that is. I only hope to return the favor, and welcome you to my home.”
Fluttershy turned her head around again, looking at the steel bulkheads covered in rope netting.
“Oh... Ah, thank you.” She looked around a bit longer. “Um... Do you like living in a metal box?”
Trent’s hand slapped against his forehead, massaging it firmly.
“Ehh. This is more of a memento than an actual home. Sort of a keepsake, rather. But yes, a steel box is all right, given the alternatives.”
“Oh. Well, it’s.. nice.”
Trent burst out laughing. He leaned over to Fluttershy’s eye level, kicking his feet out as he stooped over. Surprisingly enough, given his sudden panicked flailing, this left him flat against the deck.
“Are you okay?”
“Ugh, yes,” he propped himself up on his elbows. “Sorry about that. Force of habit. Stupid gravity. Anyways, I appreciate your false modesty in my aesthetic adornments. Really isn’t much to look at in here.”
“Um. I could help you.. decorate, maybe?”
“Ohh, no. I appreciate the offer, but I’d prefer not having any free float projectiles bouncing around my hull, no matter how pretty they look. Long story, you’ll understand soon enough.”
She looked slightly miffed.
“Now now... Lets get back to what I mentioned earlier. Discovery, right?”
“What did you mean by that?”
“Discovery! That’s why you’re no longer afraid of a metal box. You know what it is now!” He shuffled towards her across the floor, pushing himself up to her eye level.
“Oh...”
“And not just that, but you faced your fears, even if you were more afraid that you’ve ever been in your whole life. Before you had any idea of what was inside here.”
“Well, maybe.”
“You did. Don’t be shy about it.”
She squeaked softly, as she nodded in begrudging agreement.
“And most important of all - you had the drive to press forward. You could have backed off easily enough, but you didn’t. Just stepping onto that ramp was a profound decision on your part. Think about it... Think back to all the times where you were given the opportunity to take part in some sort of adventure, activity, or romantic pursuit. All those chances lost forever, simply because you never took that first step.”
“Oh. Um...” She blushed slightly. “Was it really that important?”
“I would say so. Do you remember what I said while we were back in Equestria?”
“What?”
“I mean, when we were still outside, before we stepped onto the ramp?”
She eyed Trent strangely.
“You told me what was inside here.”
“Yes.”
“The unknown. The future.”
“Yes. Then what happened?”
“Oh... I came, and I saw it” she said meekly.
“And you conquered it!” Trent cheered, grasping her forehooves and standing, holding them high in triumph.
“Meep!” she replied. The maniacal grin of flesh-rending teeth bared just inches from her nose.
“Sorry, I’ll put you back down. Anyways, as I was saying, the future is the unknown. It will always be the unknown. You may fear the unknown, or you may face it. And to face it, you only need three things. Curiosity, conviction, and courage. And you have demonstrated all three just now.”
“Oh, my... Um.”
“Don’t argue with yourself. You know it’s true.”
The hint of a smile began to spread over Fluttershy’s face.
“Is that what you wanted to show me?”
“Ohh, no. This is just the start of it. There are many things ahead of us that are much scarier, and much more dangerous than just a dark metal box. And you will face them. This was just practice.”
The smile vanished.
“Um...”
“Stop saying ‘Um’.”
“I... I don’t think I can go through with this,” her voice trembled.
“Hmm. Are you sure of that?”
She nodded quietly.
“Even if it meant that you never learned how to fly fast, gain self confidence, face down terrifying encounters, or even find the love of your life?”
She nodded again. Her eyes clenched shut, as several tears began to stream down her soft yellow fur.
“Would you do it, if it meant that you could help others?”
Her head hung like a wilted rose, but it did not rise.
“Is that a maybe?”
Fluttershy nodded firmly.
“Well, you have time to think about it. All the time in the world, really.”
“Thank you.” she breathed.
“Now, you did ask me, how I fly... Did you not?”
“Y... Yes. You said something about an... Air... Plane.”
“Would you like to see one?”
She was quiet for a moment, before whispering, “Okay.”
“That’s the spirit. Let’s go!”
“Go where?”
“Right outside,” he gestured back to the leveled ramp.
“Ohh... Are we done in here?”
“Yep. No more scary metal box.”
She rolled her eyes, and sighed, stepping forward onto the ramp.
“Thank you for inviting me in here.”
“The pleasure is mine. Anyways, brace yourself, I’ll lower the ramp now.”
“Okay,” she exhaled, as her gaze sank to the deck.
There was a soft hiss of metal sliding against metal, and the ramp twitched with a loud twang. Slowly it began to lower.
It was pitch black outside.
“Trent!” she gasped. “Something’s wrong! Why is it so dark now?”
He walked past her, unperturbed; disappearing within the inky void at the base of the ramp.
“Trent! Officer Lancaster! Hello?” She raced down the ramp, her hooves tinging against the folded metal channels. She reached the base, and froze.
She had left the ramp, but her hooves still tapped loudly against metal. The echos of each step reverberated from far in the distance.
“Trent?”
The ramp lifted with a soft whirr, sealing against the belly of the craft, and shuttering away the only source of light with it.
“Fluttershy?”
“Trent!”
“Remember what I said. Just relax.”
Far overhead, tiny pinpricks of light began to glow and flicker. Fluttershy looked up with relief.
“Ohhh... Thank Luna for the stars on this night.”
“And thank the Kreshtahl - Phillips Electric Glass Company for the XAP 7500 halide arc element array.”
“What?”
“Close your eyes.”
“Why!”
The pinpricks of light exploded like a string of firecrackers; each blazing with fury of a bottled star, each flash accompanied by the sharp retort of high amperage breakers slamming closed. The light bathed them, and the heat shone through the bright yellow fur of her back.
“EEEEEeeeee!” She squealed, huddled against the deck with both forelegs pressed across her face.
“I told you,” Trent sighed.
Slowly she peered out, blinking away the searing after-images through wide bleary eyes. The world slowly came into focus.
She stood upright, forcing her eyes open. Her jaw slowly dropped. She blinked again, several times, trying to comprehend what was before her.
It was a canyon of metal.
Steel platforms jutted from the far wall, like the many parallel combs within a honeybee hive. Embossed panels laid flat over each cell. The smallest doors were packed into many layers of neat rows. The largest doors surpassed their entire length. Every flat surface bore a myriad of geometric lines that followed unseen contours. Each set of lines tracing out a network of paths and regions, each colored from one of many unique rainbow hues.
A haze hung in the gulf before her, twinkling as motes of dust within the beams of the sun. It obscured the far wall slightly, but only slightly, compared to the distance that stripped away any sense of scale.
“Trent?” she asked, her voice shaky and nearly cracking. “Where are we...”
Something had caught the corner of her eye, and she turned to look. Where the far wall could be discerned as a tiled mosaic of steel doors, the wall to her left appeared just the same - but from the perspective of an ant. She swiftly turned around. The wall to her right stretched onward in the same manner. Above, both walls met along a vaulted ceiling. An impossibly large rectangle, framed by the harsh blinding glow of halide arc lamps, loomed overhead. If it were a door, it would span the Ghastly Gorge.
“Okay, okay,” Trent intoned. “It’s just another metal box. Just a bit bigger than the last one. Oh... Just don’t look down.”
She looked down.
The floor beneath her was yet another door - opened away from the vast wall, hanging as a tiny precipice over a cavernous pit. The platform extended nearly fifty feet out into the empty space, and its width spanned twice that distance. But as she turned her gaze down, past the sharp edges of the steel platform, did the sheer enormity of the bay began to sink in. It stretched out below, farther than the height of the ceiling. The depths receded into darkness, punctuated only by the sporadic flickering of smaller burnt out fluorescent bulbs.
Fluttershy responded with a long slow gasp, steadily inhaling as her eyes tried to fixate on the distant reaches of the entire bay.
“Told you...”
She shivered, backing away slowly. Her legs fighting against terror stricken paralysis.
“Where are we?” she gasped. “There’s nothing nearly this big in Equestria!”
“Yep.”
Trent stood with his thumbs hooked into his pockets. The toes of his boots extended just over a green and red line that bisected the platform. Fluttershy dashed towards him, flapping her wings to bring herself to his eye level.
“Ohh, careful about that line there,” he pointed at the deck.
She barely had time to look before she flew over the line. The uneasy sensation of falling returned immediately.
“AHHhhhh! Trent!” Her legs galloped mid air, furtively clawing towards the steel deck, less than a foot out of reach.
“Now just relax. Use your wings... Oh, wait.”
She tried to twist around to face Trent, and began pumping her wings furiously. However, instead of flying back to the platform, she simply shot up like a cork in a bathtub.
A high pitched echoing scream steadily diminished as she sailed onwards and upwards.
“Told you...” Trent sighed as he shook his head. He looked up at the flailing yellow and pink pegasus, as he absentmindedly kicked himself across the green and red line with the tips of his toes. He folded his arms together and threw his head forward, slowing his body as he bent his legs. His arms shot upwards as he crouched, moving smoothly with the grace of an underwater ballet dancer.
The deck pressed against the soles of his boots for just a moment, and he was off.
* * *
By most standards, which included week days, weekends, week nights, holidays, or besiegement by hostile supernatural beings, it was a relatively slow day at the Ponyville Library. Twilight paced the main floor with mechanical determination. She was too engrossed in thought to read, and too impatient to relax. The thick walls of her wooden sanctuary grew imposing as the hours passed, a solitary confinement within a fortress of knowledge.
She trotted up the stairs again, surveying the wreckage of her bedroom. Coiled metal springs, torn strips of fabric, and wooden splinters carpeted the polished wooden floorboards where her bed once stood.
“Urrrghhh...” she muttered. The thoughts racing through her mind demanded to be discussed, yet there had been nopony to talk with since Applebloom had left. And even then, that which she had to say could not simply be told to anyone.
“Spike, take a letter. Ohh...”
Spike was gone.
She trotted over to her writing desk, sighing in exasperation when she remembered that it too had become no more than a mound of jagged sawdust.
“Oh sweet Celestia, how much longer is it going to be.”
A small flare of magic from her horn, and her bedside clock zipped in front of her face. Unfortunately, it had been crushed into a small shiny ball, the size of a marble.
“Ughh... No, wait. You can fix this, Twilight. Just have to un-crush it until it’s exactly how it was before.”
She concentrated. The magical glow from the tip of her horn brightened considerably. She tried to unfold the steel ball, but it had become fused together as a single lump. Her teeth gritted as she tried a new approach, squishing the molten steel like a piece of clay, flattening it into a bowl shape, and painstakingly forming a sharp crease to make the base of an open cylinder.
The result of her horn-work was held high for inspection. However, while looking vaguely like a clock, it lacked certain important functions, such as the counting of time. And while she did pour a considerable amount of effort and perspiration into the reconstruction, the most positive aspect she could think of to describe it was that it wasn’t completely lumpy everywhere.
Twilight sighed. The clock dropped. A small patch of her floor began to smoulder and smoke.
“Eeep!” she exclaimed, stamping the ersatz timepiece into the approximation of a tin platter. Tiny flames began to creep out from underneath.
“Oh no, no no...” she frantically looked around her bedroom for something to extinguish the miniature blaze. There! A small wooden bucket with a toothbrush sticking out, and a frothy solution of mint-flavored baking soda inside. Perfect! She darted over to the bucket, jammed her face into the rim, and slurped up as much of the regurgitated mouthwash as she could hold, before racing back to the small charred spot on her floor. The flames had nearly died out, leaving a few charred spots where the hot metal had touched. Though, still In a panic, she straddled the minuscule conflagration and spurted the foamy fluid all over the floor. The remains of the tin clock sizzled briefly, and all was silent.
Silent, save for the despair laden groan of the most intelligent, smartest, and scientifically minded pony in all of Ponyville.
She looked back to the small bucket, experimentally lifting it with her magic, before letting it drop. The bucket hit the floor, and her hoof smacked her forehead, both with a loud synchronised *thwack*.
“Oooh, don’t break anything else, Twilight,” she mumbled derisively in Spike’s deeper voice. “Oh, whatever would I do without you, Spike?”
This, obviously.
Twilight flung open the doors to the balcony, seeking escape from the demolished bedroom. Her hooves kicked through the pile of rolled scrolls as she stepped outside into the afternoon sunlight.
It warmed her fur, and set her eyes squinting. She looked up cautiously, shuttering her eyelids as she tried to look at the glowing orb that hung motionless in the blue sky. At the edge of the balcony, her telescope hung in it’s cradle, pointing down at the wooden deck.
“And the sun is a star...” she said absentmindedly. “Hmmm.”
She walked over as she lifted the wide lens with her magic, pointing it at the stellar furnace.
“What do they look like up close... Wait... What!”
A small spot on the deck quickly charred and burst into flames. She stared at it momentarily as she let the telescope drift. An invisible line of flame sprouted up, tracing away from the first spot.
“Oh Celestia! Not again!” She raced back inside, bringing out the bucket with the last few ounces of liquid. It splashed across the deck, extinguishing the guttering flame, and dripping down to the branches below.
She collapsed to the deck, sobbing quietly. The telescope had returned to it’s original state, staring blindly at the ground.
“I can’t do anything right,” she wailed.
She stayed that way for nearly a minute, before her head shot upright. An inquisitive look vied to replace her expression of despair. Slowly she approached the spot on the deck where flames had mysteriously erupted.
They traced a line, punctuated by larger spots where the fire had been more intense. But still, it made little sense. The element of fire could only be conjured through a set number of well defined conditions.
1. Dragons. 2. More fire. 3. Close proximity to things that were previously on fire. 4. Friction. 5. Lightning 6. Meteorites. 7. Angry mobs. 8. Sparks - electrical, or otherwise. 9. Unattended children. 10. Improper handling of magnifying glasses. (See 9. Unattended children)
She tallied the list in her mind, paying attention to the last entry. A telescope was very similar to a magnifying glass! Yes! She was making progress. And when combined with the ninth entry, ‘unattended children’...
Twilight rolled her eyes and scowled, shaking her head with a snort.
Moving on. Magnifying glasses focused light. However, a focused point of light was simply very bright - and thus no different from standing next to a very large light bulb. And while a large light bulb could be very warm, you could only feel that within inches of the surface, yet you could see its light for miles away.
She scowled a bit longer, mentally wrestling with the many varying sets of data. As she thought, she wished that Trent were here to give her a clue - as he seemed to know everything about anything.
Electromagnetic radiation. That’s what he called it. He even said that heat and light were both different kinds of electro...
Twilight’s eyes shot open. Heat and light were both electromagnetic radiation - but differing in terms of energy. Energy! Both heat and light had energy, the same sort that could be measured in the work done by a draft pony, or the energy in a speeding locomotive. She pranced back towards the telescope, feeling the warmth of the sun beat down upon her back and flank as she left the shade.
If a lens could focus light, then perhaps it could focus heat as well. And where focused light would appear brighter, focused heat would simply be hotter. Or, perhaps it wouldn’t even matter, since both light and heat were simply invisible carriers of energy.
She tilted the telescope back to the sun. To her delight, a tiny patch of the deck began to smolder and burn within seconds.
Science!
* * *
The steel plates drifted by as Fluttershy sailed along weightlessly. Her breaths came in fast shallow puffs, as her heart pounded within her chest, and the contents of her stomach demanded immediate relocation.
Suddenly she caught sight of Trent, drifting up alongside her. He stood casually with his thumbs hooked into his pockets, appearing to lean back within an invisible elevator.
“What’s up?” he asked casually, concealing the traces of a smirk.
“Trent! Help!”
“Why?”
“We’re flying upwards, out of control!” she shrieked.
“Ohh... Okay. Don’t worry, I’ve got just the thing.”
Trent slowly lifted his knee and extended his leg, before swinging it down swiftly. He began to tumble through half a rotation, before he kicked his leg out again, and slowly brought it back. His arms extended, and he brought them in suddenly, one clutched to his chest, and the other behind his back. As he spun around to face Fluttershy again, he flung his arms back out, and slowed to a stop.
“Now we’re falling downwards! Problem solved.”
“But we’re still moving!”
“Says who? What if we’re standing still, and the whole ship is moving?”
“Ship? What?”
“Listen, I could use your help here in a second. You have wings, and I have a B plus in college physics. I think we can work together here.”
“How?”
“Well, you know how gravity always pulls you down, right? Your wings are designed to lift you up. However, without gravity, that seems to throw you off a bit. But you can still fly in here! You just have to know which direction to flap them.”
“Oh... Okay,” She stuttered.
“Look towards me, and push your wings behind you, like you were pushing yourself through water.”
Fluttershy bent her wings downward, and flapped a few times experimentally. The distance between her and Trent narrowed.
“Oh, my! Trent, I’m doing it!”
“Very good. Now give me your hooves.”
Hand and hoof clasped together in the free floating void.
“Now if you want us to slow down, you just need to spread your wings, and let air resistance take care of the rest. Okay?”
“Okay!” She said, as her wings thrust outward to plow into the still air. As promised, she began to slow down quickly, yet Trent kept going.
The two tumbled wildly, holding on as centripetal forces firmly stretched their bodies apart. Fluttershy gasped at Trent, who smiled as the vista of steel plates, bright lights, and cavernous depths spun behind him.
“Now this next part is a bit tricky. We want to get back to the walls there, because the catwalks have artificial grav... I mean, artificially induced gravity.”
“TREEENNNNTTT!”
“Just remember, keep your hooves pointed downwards. I mean, in the direction you’re travelling... No, wait. Keep them pointed in the direction of whatever you’re going to run into first, and then just flap your wings normally to slow down. Okay?”
“What?!”
“Here we go! Frame change, frame change!”
Trent’s hands sprang open, and the two parted ways at a modest velocity with respect to each other.
“You’re doing very well,” he shouted across the bay. “It might be a little confusing at first, but I’m sure you’ll pick it up as we go. In fact, this is a really good way to demonstrate Newton’s three laws of motion!”
A terrified scream echoed back in response.
“And Doppler shifting too. Anyways, hold tight, and I’ll be over there in a minute.”
As he sailed towards the wall, Trent pulled up the legs of his pants, and kicked. A set of stilts unfolded from the back of his calves, locking in place beneath his boots with the quickness of a switchblade. He scissored his arms and legs as he floated, orienting his feet towards the rapidly approaching array of steel doors.
The rubberized talons at the tip of each stilt connected firmly with the wall, compressing a stiff spring just above his heels. His legs bent as he came to a stop, and then he rocketed back out into the bay. He pressed his toes down, and the stilts unfolded into a set of fins, clear plastic stretched taut between the carbon fiber poles.
“Now, just open your wings up like we practiced. Burn off some of that delta-V you’ve got.”
Fluttershy had tried to point her hooves towards the oncoming wall, but exactly the opposite had occurred. She looked directly up in horror, to see the enormous array of steel bulkhead approaching rapidly. With nothing left to try, she shut her eyes, and spread her wings wide, feeling for a moment like she was laying gently on her back, with only the soft puffy vapors of a cloud holding her up. The feeling slowly diminished, and the sensation of falling returned. Her eyes squeezed shut even tighter as she prepared for the impact that should have happened already.
After some time, after Fluttershy was sure that she should have crashed painfully into the far wall, she timidly opened one eyelid to peer out. She had half expected to see Nurse Redheart, and the ceiling of the Ponyville hospital. Instead, there was Trent.
“Well done!” he exclaimed.
“Whaa?” She looked up. The steel wall of the bay was only several feet away. The catwalk, several yards off to her left.
Trent swam through the air, circling her with the patient undulation of a shark in still waters.
“You’re getting the hang of it.”
“No!” she cried. “No, I’m not! This is too much for me, Trent! I can’t do the things that you can.”
“Look. There’s nothing special about me. If I can do it, you can too. You just need to relax a bit. More thinking, less panicking.”
She whimpered, looking sidelong at the catwalk.
“Now, I’d just like to point out something here to make this a bit less confusing. This is artificially induced artificial gravity. Rather than centripetal artificial gravity, or actual artificially induced gravity - because that’s what we use to tear starships in half, smash planets from the inside out, or strip the coronal gas from stars. Told you, it’s scary stuff. Anyways, it’s a bit different, which is why it feels like real gravity, but it only has a few yards of range before it tails off. Whole loads cheaper on the energy requirements too. Many orders of magnitude. That’s why we can use it all over the place here... Ugh, are you even listening to me?”
She looked back at Trent, still too frightened to respond. Trent sighed, and gave her a gentle push. She drifted towards the catwalk slowly at first, and then more quickly. Her wings flapped, and she settled down normally, hugging the metal pole that served as a guard rail.
As she watched, Trent floated down outside the catwalk. His leg shot out, and the rubberized talons of his stilt grasped the rail, pulling him inward. The other stilt pressed firmly on the catwalk, and he towered before her, standing nearly a foot taller.
“Are you okay there?”
She looked past him, staring at the wall that joined the two sides of the bay. It appeared as several massive segments of steel plating, with unreadable inscriptions that towered as high as a small mountain.
“Trent? What does that say?”
“Hmm, that? Two Alpha dash Three Alpha.”
“What does it mean?”
“It means we’re in bay Two Alpha, and Three Alpha is on the other side. So we’re facing aft.”
“What?”
“And we’re going to bay Four Bravo, so we’ll have to go through here, and transit across Three Charlie. That stands for centerline, by the way. That’s the maintenance area on this ship.”
“I... I don’t understand.”
“You will. Just follow me.”
“But, where are we going?” she asked, as they approached the expansive barrier.
“Through this door.”
“That’s a door!?” she shouted in surprise.
“Yup. Watch this.”
Trent thrust his hand into the air, and snapped his fingers. All around the door, red lights began to spin, and green lights flashed. An ear-splitting klaxon alarm blared, sending Fluttershy’s hooves to clamp over her ears. He pointed at the door with two fingers outstretched, and swept his arm to the other side of the bay. The door shot open along its rails, each segment racing aside and slamming into the next with a terrible crash that made the catwalk shake repeatedly.
Beyond the door lay a pitch black cavern. Lights flared overhead, and the terrifying expanse of the next bay was abruptly revealed. Not terrifying for it’s size, but for the simple fact that it was exactly the same size as the enormous steel canyon that they already stood in.
Several seconds passed. Fluttershy’s jaw hung open and her eyes bulged. Eventually she gasped for breath, despite her exemplary imitation of a stone statue.
“Ready to go see an airplane?”
A high pitched squeak came as her reply.
“We need to get to the other side over there. It’s about half a mile altogether, so you’ve got the choice of taking the catwalk, or going there directly. You can take your time, either way.”
“All the way over there?” she whispered.
“Yep. See ya on the other side,” he said, as he stepped to the edge of the catwalk, his stilts gripping the polished rail.
She peered over the edge, retreating back from depths with a newfound sense of acrophobia.
“Ironically enough, it only feels like you’re falling when you’re in the place where you aren’t falling.”
“Whaat?”
Trent rolled his eyes. “In other words... Screw gravity!”
He bent his knees and kicked off from the rail, swimming through the expanse with his fins kicking behind him.
She watched as he departed. As she crept back to the edge of the catwalk, she cautiously stuck one hoof over the rail, feeling the tug of gravity diminish. She flapped her wings and lifted away from the catwalk, prodding the weightless space again with one outstretched foreleg.
Several deep breaths later, she closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and fell into the free float void.
* * *
Twilight scribbled furiously in her notebook. She flipped back several pages to re-read her findings.
Name: Twilight Sparkle
Experiment: Study of the effects of focused sunlight on various objects. For Science.
Hypothesis: Direct sunlight appears to have several components, including heat and light, as well as potential others not yet discovered. This experiment uses the assumption that heat and light are both forms of electromagnetic radiation (see footnote 1), which differ only by the energy inherit to the wavelength (see footnote 2) of each. Furthermore, it is theorized that wave-like properties of light may have an additional component of amplitude (footnote 3), which may play into the energy conveyed (footnote 4), yet the experimental apparatus does not yet allow for any discernible measurement of this distinction at this time.
Experimental Apparatus(s):
1: The Sun (1) 2: One (1) telescope, pointed at the Sun. 3: One (1) small wooden bucket with a thermometer inside, and a marking inside to allow the bucket to be refilled with the same volume of water between experiments. 4: Secondary bucket (1) to refill the first bucket, and provide unexpected conflagration control. 5: Various objects, (many) as described in Observational Reports.
Observational Reports:
1: Wooden planks. Observation: Caught on fire. Notes: I’m sure that can be buffed out.
2: Toothbrush. Observation: Melted, then caught on fire. Notes: This wasn’t really my best idea.
3: Large rock. Observation: Warmed up considerably over the course of ten (10) seconds. When dropped in bucket of water, noticed the temperature rose by three (3) degrees. Notes: Acquire oven mitts.
4. Small rocks Observation: Exploded. Notes: That wasn’t supposed to happen!!
5: Loose paper. Observation: Caught on fire immediately. Notes: Lost due to fire. Previous entries of this report have been transcribed to this notebook from memory.
7: Remains of former bedside clock. Observation: Melted within seconds. Notes: Former bedside clock suffered magically induced topological deformation prior to experimentation, which also produced a buildup of heat. It is possible that magical energy, when applied through momentary lapses of sanity, can also induce a transfer of energy, which in turn exhibits a buildup of heat.
8: Hoof clippings. Observation: Did not melt, so much as bubble up vigorously, before catching on fire. Notes: Dear Sweet Celestia, this smelled horrible! Acquire nose plugs.
10: Spoon. Observation: Heated up unevenly, and deformed when moved. Raised water temperature by about one (1) degree. Notes: Spoon still serviceable, but no longer matches set.
11: Candle. Observation: Caught on fire. Vigorously. Notes: Acquired second bucket of water to deal with unexpected fires that are not part of standard testing procedure.
12: Wooden planks. Observation: Caught on fire. Vigorously. Notes: Unplanned repeat of first experimental observation while acquiring secondary water bucket.
13: Glass salt shaker with salt inside. Observation: Salt melted. Glass exploded. Notes: Construct barrier to prevent potential exposure to molten salt. Owwwww.
14: Small potted plant. Observation: Deceased, despite plant’s natural affinity to sunlight. Notes: This is stupid!
15: Clay pot, containing deceased potted plant. Observation: Exploded. Notes: Didn’t see that coming.
Findings: Focused sunlight appears to have many potential uses, if it can be learned to be harnessed safely in large scale. Potential practical uses may include, but not be limited to, renewable energy, fiery destruction of encroaching armies, ore smelting, and demolition of structures that are primarily composed of wooden planks and/or tiny rocks.
It was observed that the ratio of the telescope diameter to the focal area diameter was approximately twelve (12) to one (1), which corresponds to an area ratio of which is considerably smaller. It has become unsettling to consider that the warmth of the sun over a broad area can be turned into such violently hot pinpoint with the use of simple refractive or reflective lenses. Please note that figure three (3) depicts a representational drawing consisting of the Sun, Equestria, and a hypothetical lens between the two, where the lens is depicted as approximately the same size as Equestria itself. This is NOT TO SCALE. I do not want to even imagine what could happen if someone built a lens that big.
Note: Every time I try to divide the ratio of a circular area’s circumference by it’s diameter, I ALWAYS get an answer somewhere between 3.13 and 3.145, with my most accurate measurement being close to 3.1415. This is incredibly frustrating, and I feel like I must be doing something completely wrong. I, as your faithful student, and in the interest of my elective scientific pursuits, will vow to figure out what’s going on here.
Twilight slapped the notebook shut, surveying the disaster that had become her balcony. Still, it was oddly satisfying, despite the numerous mishaps.
And by numerous, she meant nearly all of them.
A copy of the Canterlot Royal College Handbook of Alchemy and Magic lay open next to her. The list of ten (10) conditions for the creation of fire were crossed out, with the word “Energy!” scribbled in the margin. This too was crossed out, and replaced with “Energy divided by area x time”. She felt giddy at the thought of publishing a correction to the venerable old book. The “Big Red Paperweight” as it was known in scholarly circles, and the “Twelve Inches of Terror” to students who were unlucky enough to punished by transcribing various chapters.
Her hooves rubbed together gleefully. There would be fame! There would be recognition!
There would be a big fat research grant!
The telescope faced back to the charred deck again, and she looked wistfully back towards the sky - her eyes skirting the glare of the Sun.
Something didn’t quite look right though - and it wasn’t because of the botched mirror experiment. There was a tiny shape casting a shadow at the edge of the fiery disc. She squinted her eyes tightly for a better look.
The tiny shape was growing larger.
She gasped, and threw herself to the balcony’s deck as the shape sprouted a pair of wings, and rocketed through a fishhook turn, clearing the railing of the balcony by mere inches and sweeping through the open doors to her bedroom.
Twilight stood gasping at the intruder. While it vaguely resembled an overgrown pegasus, her eyes could barely focus upon it properly. It bore a patchwork suit of irregular swatches, each overlapping like the scales of a dragon. Where she could have sworn that the suit was a perfect sky blue with traces of puffy white and grey just moments before, it now resembled the colors of her bedroom. Brown and tan, with a smattering of other colors she recognized as belonging to the covers of the many books that littered her floor and shelves.
“Who... Who are you!” Twilight gasped.
The intruder’s horn flared beneath the hood of the camouflaged suit, and Twilight felt herself picked up, and swept inside.
She flapped her wings with growing confidence. Her head craned up as far as it would go, and her hooves dangled behind her. Trent swam lazily ahead, kicking his fins through the air as he pretended to backstroke across an invisible lake.
“Now I want you to try something real quick. I want you to kick your left legs backwards, and your right legs forward. Hard as you can. Okay?”
“Ooo.. Okay!”
She kicked forward and backwards simultaneously, and the world began to spin.
“Eeeeee!” she squealed, as she spiraled along.
“Now do it again, but exactly the opposite. Left legs forward, right legs back.”
Her eyes closed as she kicked again. She cautiously opened them again to see the whole world upside down, but more or less stationary again.
“Good job!” Trent clapped.
“Ohh. Thank you!”
“Now, do you see that wall we’re about to painfully crash into?”
She did. She gasped.
“Right... I’ll take your moment of silence as a cognizant response, pursuant to my previous comment...”
“TRENT!”
“Just follow my lead. All of your legs, kick them back at the same time, and then forward once you’ve spun around. Just like me. Watch!”
He curled his knees to his chest, flipping backwards through half of a somersault. His legs straightened again, and he came to rest staring back at Fluttershy.
“Your turn!”
She kicked and rolled, angling her neck downward to follow the new orientation. The wall was nearly upon them, and she began to flap her wings instinctively.
“Ahh, very good.”
“Trent!” her voice rose with a hint of panic.
“You’re doing fine, don’t worry!”
“No, no! Trent!”
“What is it?”
“Behind you!”
“What? Oh Shi...”
Trent smacked into the bulkhead with a resounding bang, and then fell to the walkway above, landing with all the grace of an anesthetized cat.
“Oooh! Trent!” Fluttershy cried, as she vectored in to land. She kicked the wall, rebounding up to the underside to the ledge, and settled next to the supine pile of askew limbs.
“Are you okay?”
A semi-lucid groan came as the only response.
“Will you be okay!” She asked again, gently nuzzling his shoulder.
“Eventually... Owwww... You don’t mind if I lay here for a few minutes, do you?”
“I don’t mind. Um... You don’t feel any broken bones, do you?”
“No. Don’t think so, anyways.”
“Can you feel this?” Her hooves pressed gently along his shins and thighs.
“Yes...”
“And what about... Ohh! Ohh no.”
“What?”
“Ohh! It’s horrible!”
“What is it?”
“Trent! You’re bleeding!”
“Huh?” He tried to lift his head to look, but a hoof to his chest gently pressed him back.
“No, stay there. Let me think for a second. I know it looks bad, but I need you to stay with me,” she commanded.
As she trotted nervously in a tight circle on the narrow catwalk, Trent looked down and prepared himself for the worst.
The non-skid polycrete of the catwalk had thoroughly lacerated his trousers around the knees. Beneath that, the flesh was bruised, and lightly perforated with thousand tiny pinpricks. Blood oozed forth as semi-coagulated droplets.
“Ooh, that does look serious,” he said.
“What can we do?”
“Well, there is a medical facility, about thirty decks down,” he gestured with his thumb hooked towards the dark abyss. “Centerline, near the first beam.”
Fluttershy crept to the edge of the catwalk, looking down. The light from above did not reach all the way below. Strange shapes sent sinister shadows as spotlights strobed silently.
“Down there?” she asked quietly.
“Mmm hmm.” He laid his head back and rolled his eyes. “Don’t know if I’ll make it without an aspirin and a band-aid.”
As he tried to sit up, Fluttershy pressed him down again.
“Trent. Hold still. I have an idea.”
“Whaaa?”
Fluttershy bit into Trent’s belt, and tugged him towards the edge of the catwalk. She trotted to the other side, and pushed in the small of his back until he slid under the handrail and fell off the ledge, floating freely in the bay.
“Oh.. Thanks...” he mumbled, slowly tumbling into the void.
Fluttershy dove from the catwalk, flapping her wings in tight controlled bursts until she was just underneath Trent.
“Now hold on tight!”
“Ahh...” He lay across her back with his arms around her neck. “You’re the best, Fluttershy.”
* * *
Twilight let out a surprised yelp as she dropped to the floor. The intruder towered before her, asymmetric and indistinct behind the patchwork camouflage. It let out a mirthful sigh in a feminine voice that sounded both vaguely familiar, and just slightly sultry.
The purple pony bolted. She headbutted the balcony door and burst outside, filling her lungs to scream for help. A glowing haze of magic gripped her hind legs firmly, and yanked them from beneath her. Her forehooves scratched frantically at the wooden planks, clutching a thick heavy object just before she slipped back into the bedroom.
The doors closed again, locking with an audible click.
She whirled to face the intruder, standing high on her hind legs. She hoisted the twenty pound cube of empirical observations - the bright red CRC Handbook of Alchemy and Magic - high overhead, tensing her body to throw it as hard as she could.
“Back off, lady! I’m a SCIENTIST!” An angry snort underscored her fierce narrowed gaze.
A light chuckle came from the hooded figure.
“Ohh, Twilight...”
She froze briefly, stunned at the sudden familiarity of the voice.
“I have been looking everywhere for that, actually.”
The CRC tome zipped away from Twilight’s hooves, hovering gently beside the intruder.
“Princess... Celestia?”
The hood withdrew, revealing her mentor. Her head bore no crown, and her face was streaked with thick black lines over a patchwork of dark green and earthy brown.
“Twilight, my most prized student. I trust that we are alone?”
Twilight gulped. Her head nodded involuntarily with shocked obedience.
“I have had much on my mind lately. Many thoughts that simply must be shared...” She strode resolutely towards the quivering young unicorn, rustling quietly within her patchwork suit. Her head dipped close to Twilight, as their horns nearly crossed.
“...In private.”
Twilight raised one hoof in meek objection, a placeholder for a lengthy rebuttal against...
She gasped suddenly. Her eyes went wide, her ears folded alongside her head, and a deep blush crept across her face.
“Hmm?” Celestia murmured. She looked up suddenly, casting her eyes about the wreckage of the bedroom. A long whistle escaped her lips as she turned slowly.
There was a short pause before she spoke.
“You know, Twilight,” she said evenly. “I have a book you may wish to borrow. It describes some very useful therapeutic exercises for relieving stress and tension.”
“Princess...”
She turned back suddenly, giving Twilight a sly wink.
“I should know. It’s saved me a small fortune on new furniture lately. Ha ha.”
“Um...”
“Ohh my...” Celestia exhaled with a deep woof. “I wish my bed could end up like... Ahh... Excuse me. Twilight, my faithful student. You have my apologies for this sudden intrusion, but we have much to discuss.”
“Ohh. Is that what you’re here for?” Twilight asked in confusion. The relief in her voice carried a faint tinge of disappointment.
Celestia eyed her strangely for a moment, before giving a slight shake of her head.
“Yes, I’m afraid.”
She unhooked the clasps holding the patchwork suit around her body, and let it shuffle off to the floor. The colors of each ragged cloth faded back to the dull yellow of unbleached cotton. Her wings stretched majestically within the confines of Twilight’s bedroom. Feathers ruffled, and drops of perspiration flew from her flanks and chest.
Twilight could scarcely recognize her. Where her face was swatched with simple black lines and earthy colors, her body was a bedazzling tapestry of stripes and swirls. A canvas of dark pitch and light shades, with brilliant jagged streaks of red and yellow. Where her mane and tail once undulated with a palette of pastel hues, a hot glow of crackling embers radiated in their place.
“Does it suit me, still?” she asked carefully.
Twilight stared, mouth agape. She was at a momentary loss for words, wrestling with the mental image of a phoenix mating with a zebra, and the logistical challenges that implied.
“Princess! I.. I’ve never seen you wearing anything like that!”
“Ahh. It has been some time. Nonetheless, I must remind myself on occasion... Lest I forget my true colors.”
“Your true colors?”
“A figure of speech, dear Twilight.”
“What about that suit you were wearing?”
“Oh... That,” she pushed the lumpy mound of torn fabric with her hind hoof. “It breaks the outline and deceives the eyes.”
She waggled her hips with a mischievous grin.
“And it can add an extra ten pounds where you’d least want it.”
“Huh?”
“It allows me to travel unseen, with only a slight enchantment imbued within it. No magic otherwise. The keen eyes of the Palace guard, and the ethereal senses of the court unicorns are left none the wiser.”
“But... I’ve never seen you wear that either!”
Celestia rolled her eyes.
“Exactly.”
“Why?” Twilight breathed.
“Because!” Celestia exclaimed hotly. She kicked the patchwork suit into a mound and collapsed onto it. “Because... Because.” Her voice grew soft and tailed off, as her head lay heavily across folded legs.
“Because what?” Twilight asked.
Celestia looked upward to her student. She blinked several times, her puffy eyelids wiping away the traces of tears from an unfocused stare. Eyes which bore weary witness to the march of time, yet steadfastly carried depths of wisdom, kindness, and comfort. Eyes which now simply stared back at Twilight, vulnerable and pleading.
The wild colorful patterns of her coat screamed with a predatorial ferocity. Yet, as she lay there in Twilight’s bedroom, atop a patchwork of rags, she looked frightened. Hiding behind the guise of war paint as a young colt might clutch a toy soldier for protection against the shadows lurking at the foot of the bed.
“Twilight... Have I been a fair leader?”
“Um... Of course! Princess, why would you even ask...”
Celestia raised one hoof.
“Have I been kind?”
“Yes.”
Twilight’s earnest words fell upon deaf ears.
“And where my hooves step, and my light warms... Has Equestria been better for it?”
“Princess!” Twilight shouted.
Celestia jerked back slightly, shocked at Twilight’s outburst. Two purple hooves firmly clasped the sides of her head, pulling her eye to eye with her protege.
“I don’t even know where to start with you! First you nearly scared the living oats out of me, flying in here like that. You’re dressed up like it’s Nightmare Night, and you’re set out to win the most terrifying costume category. And now you’re asking me how I think you’re doing as the Princess and ruler of Equestria! It’s crazy! It’s completely unlike you!”
“Twilight, I...”
“Who’s the nicest Princess in Equestria!”
Celestia stared into Twilight’s raving eyes, inching backwards ever so slightly.
“Saaay it!” Her hooves shook Celestia’s head into a forced nod.
“I... I am,” she stammered.
“Who’s the fairest Princess in all the land?” she raised her voice.
“I am,” she sighed.
“Who rules Equestria, and has given us a thousand years of peace and harmony!?”
Celestia stared distantly for a moment, before shaking her head and blinking hard.
“That would be me.”
“That’s right!” Twilight hissed. “That’s you. The Sun Goddess and Princess of Equestria! None other!”
“Yes, Twilight. Now...”
“Now buck up and start acting like it! Don’t ever forget that we always look up to you, and that... Well, and that we will always love you!”
Twilight pulled her close, and planted a kiss to underscore her declarative ultimatum. Celestia’s eyes bulged from the sudden affection, staring wildly in every direction as the seconds passed with glacial swiftness. She backed away suddenly, just as she felt the slightest hint of tongue crossing her lips.
“Ooh my... Thank you, Twilight. Ahem...” She stood quickly, blushing furiously beneath the mottled paint.
“Princess...” Twilight’s voice had raised several octaves until it resembled a high pitched squeak. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve never seen you like... Like this, before.”
“I could easily say the same,” Celestia gasped.
The two stared intently in every possible direction except than at each other.
“So, how...” Celestia thought fervently for a moment. “...has Spike been?”
“He’s doing good! Ahh, ha ha. His usual fiery little self. Haven’t seen him since this morning, but I’m sure he’s, ah.. around here somewhere.”
“Ahh. Isn’t he starting his vacation today?”
“Yes! That too. You know how baby dragons can be sometimes.”
“Oh, of course!”
“Ahh... Has Princess Luna been doing well? I see she’s been busy writing a lot lately!”
“She has! It has really been.. pleasant to have her back!”
There was a long uncomfortable pause.
“Really?” asked Twilight.
Celestia sighed, rubbing one hoof against her head.
“Yes... I do love my sister. Even if she can be.. nevermind,” she shook her head lightly as she settled back down on the pile of fabric. “Twilight, we have something important to discuss, and I don’t have much time right now.”
“Why is that?” Twilight asked carefully.
Celestia held her head high this time. Despite Twilight’s boldly delivered words of encouragement, she still looked emotionally drained.
“Do you recall the letter that you sent last? Scarcely two days ago? You had very little information to go by, yet you felt that whatever was happening was important enough to warrant my immediate attention.”
“Yes...”
“And now, I come to you.”
“Huh? What’s going on?”
“I do not know. I wish I did, but alas, I have very little to go by.”
“Then why...”
“Why did I come to you? Because I trust you, Twilight. This matter must be treated with the utmost secrecy for now. That is why I made my way here unseen, and why I must return to Canterlot soon, before I am noticed to be missing.”
“Oh...”
“And for what I’ve gone through to come here in secret, I should expect that my words, and the knowledge of my presence shall remain equally guarded.”
Twilight nodded. “Yes, Princess.”
“It does involve you, as well as the other Elements of Harmony.”
Twilight’s eyes brightened.
“Well, you can count on us, Princess! There’s nothing that we can’t handle,” she tapped her hoof on the floor, flexing her foreleg with confidence.
“Twilight...”
"Has Discord, the god of chaos, been released from stone imprisonment?"
"No."
"Outbreak of cutie pox?"
"No..."
“Rampaging elemental apparitions that feed upon negative emotions and sow further dissent among once-peaceful societies?”
“Twilight, I said I don’t-”
“Has an elder god of cosmic evil arisen from its underwater tomb in an ancient sunken city?”
“Wait, what? I don’t even-”
“Has there been a national shortage of chocolate marshmallow swirl ice cream?”
Celestia’s eyes shot wide with panic. “Oh dear sweet Me, I hope not... Aughh... No!”
“Well,” Twilight scowled in confusion. “What could it be?”
“I do not know.”
“But... You said it involves the Elements of Harmony, right? The physical embodiment of a magical enchantment that will ensure the continued and peaceful existence of all Equestria?”
“Yes.”
“Then... What do we need to do?”
Celestia sighed, and opened the satchel strapped to her flank. She pulled out a plain polished wooden box, and set it before Twilight.
“Nothing, I’m afraid,” she said as she opened the lid.
Twilight gasped, fixated upon the contents. Nestled within the velvet interior lay a golden tiara, beset with sapphire gems, and crowned with a pink ruby carved in the shape of a twinkling star. One of the six Elements of Harmony. Her Element of Harmony. Where it had once gleamed and glowed, now laid tarnished and dull. She upended the box, and the tiara fell, clattering to the wooden floor.
She swiftly placed it atop her forehead. Where the powerful bond of potent magic had coursed through her, was now merely a faint tingling. Only a trace. No different from any number of museum artifacts that only held a faint whisper of the torrential magic they once wielded.
Twilight began to shake. She looked back to her mentor, scarcely concealing the fear within her eyes.
“Who? Who could have done this!”
Celestia rested one hoof upon Twilight’s shoulder, steadying her with comfort and assurance.
“It is not a matter of who. It is a matter of what. And that, I do not know yet.”
“Something did this to the Elements of Harmony?” Twilight exclaimed in alarm.
“The Elements did this themselves. I have seen it happen several times along the span of my life.”
“Disappear?”
“No. They change.”
“Change into what?”
“Exactly what Equestria needs to survive.”
Twilight sighed. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“A candle may be all but invisible during the day, but a shining beacon within the depths of night. The Elements will present themselves as they are needed, but only where and when.”
“But why would they change?”
"Only to provide safeguard against that which threatens us all."
"But what is it?"
"I do not know, and we may not find out until it is upon us. This is not our fight to wage, dear Twilight. We can only watch, and help... And hide."
Twilight laid her head down upon crossed forelegs.
“Does it have anything to do with Trent?”
Celestia shook her head.
“No. Not him. Not that. I can not say with any certainty as to what this may entail, but I feel that the very obscurity of this may hint as to what we must face.”
“What is it?” Twilight repeated.
“The unknown...” Celestia said softly. “The future.”
* * *
Fluttershy beat her wings gently as she sailed into the abyss. The cavernous space narrowed steadily as she drifted downwards. Latent feelings of claustrophobia gripped like an invisible vise, squeezing tight as the walls crept closer.
Jagged shapes jutted ahead in the gloomy distance, as teeth within the mouth of a serpent. Cranes on inlaid rails held their burnished brass claws aloft, patiently poised to snatch their proximal prey.
The walls closed in, and her heartbeat raced. A steady thump that beat through her veins and hammered loudly within her head.
“It’s okay,” cooed a voice from behind her. Trent’s hands pressed firmly against her chest, cupped over the frightened staccato of her heart. “You’re doing great.”
The whispering echoed and reverberated from within the still dark depths. She glanced around furtively as they threaded through the forest of articulated steel towers.
“We’re almost there.”
Fluttershy nodded sharply through forced quivering breaths. Tiny beads of tears shook loose from her shut eyelids as she resolutely pressed forward.
“Are you okay?”
Her head nodded as if to say yes. The telltale trembling of her body said otherwise.
“Are you afraid right now?”
The answer caught in her throat. She shook her head quickly.
“We didn’t have to come this way.”
“No!” she asserted. “We have to!” Her voice trailed off in a whimper.
“It’s okay,” he patted her shoulder. “Really, it is.”
“Trent... I have to.”
“I understand. And I think you’re very brave for coming all this way, just for my sake. But I have something I need to tell you.”
She nodded quietly.
“First off, I’m going to be fine. It’s just a little scrape. We didn’t need to come all the way down here, but I’m glad you did.”
“We didn’t?” she whispered incredulously.
“It’s just a few scratches. I’m pretty sure I’ll live. But that’s not what’s important. I want to talk about what you did just now.”
Fluttershy spread her wings and the two drifted to a stop.
“Is it because I over-reacted?” she asked quietly.
“Yes!” he cheered. His voice echoed many times over, resounding as a booming crack and a dull whisper from the near and far reaches of the bay.
“Ohhh... I’m sorry,” she wailed.
“No, don’t be. I’m really happy that you did that for me, just because you thought I was hurt. But there’s something else you did that was really important. About the decision you made.”
“Yes?”
“Well, that was it. You made a decision, and acted upon it.”
“But I made the wrong decision!”
“Who cares! You made the decision anyways, and that’s what counts.”
She couldn’t look back at Trent directly, but she wrinkled her brow in confusion regardless.
“What.. do you mean?”
“Come on. Lets keep going. I’ll tell you along the way.”
Fluttershy turned to look back at the steady glow from the far end of the bay. Ahead, through the forest of cranes lining the narrow trench, was nearly pitch black.
“Um, Trent?” she gestured at the inky abyss with one hoof. “Can you...”
“Hmm? Oh, yes. Of course.”
He pushed himself off from Fluttershy’s back, gesturing in the air for several moments with his free hand. He straightened out, posing with the martial concentration of a wizard preparing to summon the elemental forces of nature, arms outstretched as if commanding the heavens to rain fire upon an encroaching army that bore their weight upon the trodden land as far as the horizons.
“And the Lord spoke... LET THERE BE LIGHT!” His voice thundered throughout the empty cavern.
Nothing happened.
“Umm...” he tapped his fingers at empty air. “Light! Let there be some of it!”
Nothing but the echoes of a frustrated shout returned from the depths.
“Oh, come on!”
He tapped at the air with angry forceful strokes. The trench illuminated with a soft red glow, revealing a wide flat tunnel beneath them.
“And the Lord spoke... Close enough!”
Fluttershy looked strangely at him, shaking her head slightly.
“Um, Mr. Trent?”
“Yes?”
“You have, um... Its just that... Your jokes are really weird,” she pawed her hoof awkwardly at the empty air.
“Nothing wrong with being a little bit weird. Anyways, lets keep going.”
Trent kicked his legs, but the fins had snapped in the crash, flapping uselessly. The ragged fabric of his pants rubbed against his bruised, abraded skin, and he hissed in pain.
“Ow... Um, a little help?"
“Oh, okay.” She hooked her legs under Trent’s arms, clasping firmly around his chest. “Where do you want to go?”
“I take back what I said about the extent of my injuries. Let’s go through here. Medical is next to the embarkation platforms, which are next to the runway below us.”
“Ow.” Fluttershy winced.
“I’m sorry. A runway is a long flat area...”
“Where the airplanes land?”
“Yes, exactly. How did you know?”
“Oh, well, when you said that, it made my head hurt. But just a little. It made me think about airplanes, and how they take off, and land.”
“Interesting. I never mentioned that.”
“No. But it made sense when you said it. Just a little bit.” Fluttershy spread her wings in alarm, suddenly looking from side to side, peering down the long narrow passage that opened up along the bottom of the trench.
“What’s wrong?”
“Airplanes go really fast when they land!” she gasped. “And they’re really loud and scary sounding too! Ohh, we shouldn’t go down there. We might get in the way!”
She darted towards the lip of the hangar, quivering softly as she stared down at the twin tracks of red lights.
“Well... That’s a rather good observation. I never mentioned anything about that, but it seems that you have a grasp on what this is for. Interesting. I say what it is, and you understand what it does.”
“Just a little bit,” she squeaked.
“It’s a good start. Anyways, you don’t have to worry. There won’t be any planes landing. We can go down there, and cross the embarkation platform into the medical bay. Won’t that be fun?”
She nodded nervously.
“Is that where people get on and off the airplanes?”
“Yes. Very good.”
“And is the medical bay like a hospital?”
“Yes it is. You’re getting the hang of...”
“Why is the hospital next to the place where the airplanes land?”
Trent paused. The innocent curiosity of the question prompted for a somewhat unpleasant answer.
“Well, sometimes airplanes carry a lot of people. And sometimes, those people might be hurt.”
Fluttershy was silent for a moment as well.
“Is that what ‘inbound with casualty’ means?” she asked slowly.
“...Yes.”
She half stepped, half fluttered past the edge of the hangar into the landing raceway. Her head swivelled back and forth, cautiously peering for the signs of a hulking high-speed aircraft barreling down the tunnel, as one might look both ways before crossing a railroad track. Trent gestured towards the stack of platforms set into an offshoot from the main raceway.
“There,” he said.
She nodded, pushing off, and ascending towards the flat runway overhead.
“I’m going to close the door.”
“What door?”
“Watch this.”
Alarms blared, three blasts in quick succession. Fluttershy winced at the noise, but didn’t panic. Below them, a pair of steel doors slid slickly from their smooth recesses, coming together where they had passed through just moments before. The bright glow of the halide arc lights winked out of sight, and they were left floating upside down above the raceway. The tracks of small bright red lights trailed off in either direction, casting their dim illumination.
“Oh...”
“Was that scary?”
“Just a little bit,” she admitted. “But not really. Not anymore.”
She flapped one wing gently, flipping the world right-side up. The runway grew closer, and she angled into a swooping dive, arcing gracefully towards the stacked platforms.
“Is that where the airplanes.. dock?”
“Yes. Each one of those platforms can accommodate several.. airplanes.”
“And each one carries a lot of people, right?”
“Yes.”
Fluttershy furrowed her brow with a hint of confusion.
“Then where is everybody?”
Trent was quiet for several seconds.
“I’m not sure.”
* * *
Twilight paced erratically about her bedroom, glancing at the dull golden tiara, and back to the knowing eyes of her mentor.
“Princess? You once bore the Elements of Harmony. Back when Nightmare Moon was banished.”
“Yes, Twilight.”
“What happened after that? Did the Elements of Harmony.. change?”
“It is not that simple. As I said, they take their form as they are needed.”
Twilight sighed forlornly.
“Then.. what happens to me? To my friends? Are we no longer important?” she asked shakily, rubbing one foreleg across round moist eyes.
“Twilight...”
“What happens to us?!” she pleaded.
“Ask yourself, what has happened to me, dear Twilight. The Elements do not chose their avatars on a whim, nor simply cast them aside.” She leaned close to her student. “So long as you remember what has been asked of you, and cherish that which has been given.”
Twilight looked puzzled.
“What has been asked of me? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“There is a certain foregone finality when the Elements choose those who will bear them. They ask for unwavering commitment, and they know the answer long before you even realize the question.”
“What question?”
“That you are willing to give your life in their service. Without fear or hesitation.”
Twilight’s eyes widened in horror.
“My... My life?”
“Your life, for so long as you lead it.”
She stared for some time, mouth agape. Her head slowly shook from side to side.
“No. No... I couldn’t. I wouldn’t have... Why? Why?!”
Celestia laid one hoof over Twilight’s shoulder.
“Twilight...”
“Why? Why would it ask that of me? Why would the Elements even accept me if I would never have agreed to something like that?” she breathed heavily.
“Because, my dear student. Your actions speak louder than your words. The Elements do not choose incorrectly.”
“But... My life?”
“Shall be long and fruitful, I should hope. Just as mine. So long as you bear the Elements for the sake of Equestria, the Elements will help to bear the number of your days.”
It was Twilight’s turn to speak. However, she simply slumped forward, landing heavily upon Celestia’s shoulder, cradled within her firm embrace. She stayed that way for several moments, sobbing softly.
“It will be okay.”
“No. I’m not ready for all of this. I never was!”
“Ssshhh...” Celestia patted Twilight’s back. “You have a calling in life. It is only asked that you fulfill it.”
She stared long and hard, slowly drawing in a breath to ask one simple question. One simple demand. One thought that bore the weight of a galaxy within a swirling constellation of stars.
“Do I have to die?”
Celestia shook her head.
“No, no. Forgive me Twilight. I did not wish to give you cause for concern. It is the purpose to which you devote your life, rather than a blind sacrifice. It is a pact that will endure... Until the end of Equestria. Until the end of time.”
“But, what about this?” Twilight prodded the wooden box. “It’s gone. The Elements have changed into something else. How am I supposed to...”
“It is not gone, dear Twilight. It is sitting here before me.”
“What?” she turned to look at the dull tiara.
One white hoof, streaked with dark lines and vibrant colors, turned Twilight’s cheek back to face her mentor.
“You don’t need that. It has served its purpose.”
“But...”
“It is not an Element of Harmony. You are.” She tapped at the box. “This was no more than a crutch. An extension of yourself.”
“A crutch?”
“A candle to guide oneself through darkness. A match that ignites a bonfire. A spark. As I said, the Elements will present themselves as they are needed. When, where, and to whom. It dwells within everypony, but few ever realize it. Sometimes they just need to take that first step, and they will be met halfway.” Her mane and tail blazed brightly as she fervently spoke.
Twilight breathed deeply, still reeling from the sudden clarification.
“Will I live as long as you?”
Celestia swallowed hard, a lump in her throat that she stumbled over briefly, before finding her voice.
“Yes, I should think.”
“Oh...”
“So long as you do not forget. So long as your faith holds strong.”
Twilight averted her gaze for a moment, glancing at the floor. One smooth white hoof touched beneath her chin, and lifted it to meet the wise and knowing look of her mentor.
“Buck up, kiddo,” she said sweetly. “Don’t forget that you will always have my trust, my faith, and my love.”
Twilight nodded quietly.
“Princess...”
“You seem a bit apprehensive.”
“Yes,” she sighed.
“And you have good reason. Had you blindly accepted what I have said, I would wonder if you really understood it.”
“Sometimes,” Twilight spoke softly to the floor, “the most audacious thing you can do in life is to question it.”
She looked up nervously. Celestia’s smile did not waver.
“Those are wise words.”
“Trent told me that.”
“It sounds as if you’ve had much to talk about.”
Twilight wiped her eyes again, smiling as she sniffled.
“He’s given me a lot to think about.”
“I should hope to hear about it sometime,” Celestia smiled. “But I must be leaving soon. We will have to continue this later.”
“Okay”
“If you need me, or if there is anything I can do to help...”
They both stopped, glancing around the demolished bedroom.
“...such as providing a yearly stipend to pay for upkeep and replacement of Library furniture due to routine wear and tear...” She spoke evenly, crafting her words in the manner which a Palace accountant might use in casual conversation.
Twilight giggled deviously.
“Yes, that would be very helpful.”
“I daresay that’s another story I’ll need to hear about, but in good time.”
Celestia stood, looking down at the thick red CRC tome near her hooves, and back to the thin empty satchel that hung across her side.
“Can you send this by mail, when you get the chance?”
“Of course! Um... Do you mind if I finish reading it first?”
“Reading it?”
Twilight flashed an awkwardly sincere smile.
“Sort of...”
Celestia shook her head slightly in exasperated disbelief.
“Twilight.”
“Yes?”
“Go outside sometime.”
“Yes, Princess,” she blushed.
“I’ll leave you to this... But remember what I have said. Always remember what has been given, and never forget what is expected.”
“I will.”
Celestia smiled warmly. The flaming embers of her mane and tail faded into the familiar rainbow of pastel hues. She leaned down to nuzzle the top of Twilight’s head as she made ready to leave.
As she turned to pick up the patchwork suit, a broken steel spring from Twilight’s bed slipped and rolled beneath her hoof, swiping its jagged tip across her leg.
“Oww!” she cried, holding her hoof close to her chest.
Twilight gasped.
“Princess! Are you okay?”
Celestia stared at the tiny gash. It was only a scratch, but a thin line of tiny blood droplets had already started to seep out.
She stared for a moment longer, before rubbing it across her other leg. The hair quickly became slick and matted with a dull red.
“Twilight.”
“Yes Princess?”
“Your washroom. Allow me, please.” she spoke uneasily, still staring at the bloody stain.
“Of course,” she nodded. “It’s right there...”
Celestia darted into the bathroom, hurriedly opening the taps to the wash basin. She thrust her hoof under the hissing stream of water, scrubbing furiously at the tiny red tinged spot.
“Are you okay, Princess?”
Celestia’s head nodded silently, as if to say yes. The fervent washing of her foreleg said otherwise.
The torrent of tap water splashed loudly in the basin, drowning out the few words that Celestia quietly repeated to herself.
“I will not forget... I will not forget... I will not forget!”
“Did you say something?” Twilight asked.
The faucet handle twisted closed. The white hairs above her hoof were clean. She stood there for a moment, her foreleg held firmly before her, as she shivered slightly.
“No. Nothing of importance.”
“I’m pretty sure you’ll be okay,” Twilight offered helpfully. “I’ve had worse scrapes than that.”
“As have I,” Celestia murmured.
She turned quickly, leaving the washroom and striding swiftly back to the bedroom. She lifted the patchwork suit with her teeth, hurling it across her back, and shuffling her wings and limbs into its recesses.
“Will we be seeing each other again soon?” Twilight asked.
“Soon. But not like this, I should hope.”
Twilight watched quietly as Celestia finished donning the ragged patchwork suit. Each swatch seemed to be made of a different weave, imprinted faintly with patterns long since faded.
“Um...”
“I know you must have many questions for me.”
She did.
“Well, yes.”
“I may have time for but one,” she stopped to turn and smile.
Twilight nodded.
“Princess? What is that suit supposed to be?”
Celestia’s smile did not waver, though her eyes briefly lost their focus - staring far into the distance. She shook her head softly and turned to look back at Twilight.
“Penance.”
“Pennants? You mean, like flags and banners?”
She swallowed hard, as she nodded.
“Yes.”
“Oh... Well, that’s kind of interesting. I guess. Sounds like a fun craft project, or an interesting way to recycle older flags...”
“Twilight.”
“Ohh, yes, Princess?”
“I must go now.”
The purple pony nodded, opening the balcony door with a slight flickering of magic from her horn.
Celestia crept forward, shuffling softly within her suit. Her head swivelled slowly as she stepped back into the afternoon sun. She turned, one last time. Her face barely visible through the veil of the suit.
“Be strong, my little pony.”
And with that, she leapt from the balcony, landing below with all the noise of a falling leaf.
Twilight ran out to look, but she was already gone.
Ingress. Triage. Quarantine. The unfamiliar words swirled within Fluttershy’s mind as she drifted across the expansive landing platform. The concepts themselves were not completely foreign, but the enormous scale and clockwork coordination they implied were dizzying to comprehend. Stranger still, how the feelings simply manifested as she passed the lip of the platform, drifting closer to the rows of doors at the far wall.
“Mr. Trent?”
“Yes?”
“What do you mean, you don’t know where everybody is?”
“Well... It’s hard to say. They could be anywhere.”
“Somewhere on this... Ship?”
“No. I think they might have left.”
“All of them?”
Trent shrugged. “All six of them.”
She spread her wings and coasted to a stop, rubbing one yellow hoof against her forehead.
“I’m sorry, was that from the translation spell?”
“No,” she winced. “It just didn’t make any sense. That wasn’t one of your jokes, was it? Because it didn’t sound like it.”
“Huh?”
“It’s just that, well, this place is really big. And it wouldn’t make sense to only have six people here.”
“That is a good observation.”
“How many people can this ship hold?”
“The crew, or rather the people that run the ship, would be about seven thousand or more. Similar to an older aircraft carrier, but this is actually a lot bigger.”
Fluttershy winced again, squeezing her eyes shut for a few moments.
“Oh... Um, Mr. Trent? Does an aircraft carrier float on water?”
“Why, yes it does. This spell is pretty handy.”
“So... Is this a spacecraft carrier?” she asked slowly.
“Okay, now that’s just spooky. But yes, it is. And this is where the spacecraft come in to dock.”
She nodded slowly, contemplating the steady stream of new ideas.
“Space feels very empty,” she shivered.
“It is very empty.”
“How many people can this spaceship hold? I mean, besides the crew?”
“Oh, between embarked commands, civilians, science teams, and other ancillary positions... About a quarter million.”
“A quarter of a million people?”
“Yep.”
“That’s almost as many ponies that live in Phillydelphia!”
“Ahh, that’s interesting.”
“But why? Why only six? Who would send out a ship this big with only six people?”
“We only needed six people to run the ship.”
To Fluttershy, the word ‘We’ sounded odd in her head. As if it were somehow talking about the same person.
“Um... If you only needed six people, why were they sent on a ship like this? On a ship this big?”
Trent smiled wistfully. “We had a ship like this to spare.”
Fluttershy’s eyes bulged, and her mouth hung open.
“But why... Why was it sent?”
“To conduct an experiment.”
“Ow,” she rubbed her forehead again.
“Sorry.”
“It’s.. okay. I’m sorry, this really doesn’t make a lot of sense yet,” she meekly protested.
“That will come soon enough.”
“Oh. Okay. Um, Mr. Trent? Where do we go now?”
Trent raised one hand, and pointed at the far wall. His fingers twitched, and a door quietly slid open. Unlike the rest of the doors, this one was just big enough for one person and one pony to walk though.
“Through there.”
Fluttershy nodded, flapping her wings and sailing across the platform. Her forelegs grasped Trent against her belly, carrying him as a torpedo bomber would firmly clutch its precious payload.
“Um... I still don’t understand how you’re doing that. Is that some kind of magic?”
“Doing what?”
“How you open doors, just by pointing at them.”
“Ah. Radio.”
“Ow! Ow! Ow!” she squealed.
“Ach... Sorry about that.”
She wrapped both forelegs around her head this time. The magical migraine was nearly excruciating. Trent drifted free, scissoring his legs until he turned around to face Fluttershy.
“Well... You’ve listened to a radio, right?”
She nodded quickly, legs still pressed across her throbbing temples.
“Yes, Well, some of my friends have a radio. Sometimes we listen to the news, or music on there.”
“And it doesn’t make your head hurt when I say it like that, does it?”
“No, not really.”
“Do you know what a radio uses to play music?”
“Um... Magic?”
“Radio.”
“Oww...”
“Sorry.”
“Um, it’s okay. It wasn’t as bad as the first time you said it. But what do you mean, that it uses radio?”
“Well, do you know how light comes from a light bulb?”
“...Yes.”
“Radio comes from an antenna.”
She clenched her teeth as she inhaled, feeling the headache subside slightly.
“Are they the same kind of thing? The antenna and the light bulb, I mean?”
“In a way, yes. They both produce electromagnetic radiation.”
“Ooh...” She winced slightly. “So light and radio are both kind of the same thing?”
“Yes.”
“And, heat too?”
“Yes. Well, infrared radiation, which induces heat when it's absorbed. But very good anyways.”
She whimpered softly as she rubbed away the last traces of pain from her head.
“Then what was was that word you used the first time? It sounded exactly the same.”
“Sometimes the same word can have many different meanings.”
“Well, I know that.”
"Like feather."
She looked at him oddly as she ruffled her wings.
"Like these?"
"Yes. Not to be confused with feather."
Her face scrunched up in confusion.
"To.. twist?" she asked slowly.
"That's part of it."
“Or fold, like this?” She tucked her wings against her body, until they were perfectly streamlined.
“That’s pretty close too.”
“Um. I don’t really understand,” she sighed.
“Don’t worry, I can explain later. I’m going to turn on the gravity first.”
“Ohh. Okay. Do you turn on the gravity with radio too?”
“Sort of.”
Trent tapped his fingers at the air, and the platform began to pull them closer. Fluttershy trotted against the deckplate as her weight slowly returned, while Trent simply touched down and slid on his back for several feet.
“Here we are!” Trent announced as he sat upright, and stood gingerly.
Fluttershy walked towards him, her hooves tapping with a metallic tinge against the platform.
“Does radio carry information?”
“Yes.”
“Or is it made out of information?” she pressed the question, already knowing Trent’s response.
“Yes. That too.”
“This isn’t one of your jokes, is it? Because it’s very confusing how you say it’s both at the same time,” the yellow pegasus stated succinctly.
“Oh, no. It’s not a joke. But understanding it probably will make your head hurt - even without the translation spell.”
“What do you mean?”
Trent stretched his back, as he wobbled slightly within the artificially induced artificial gravity.
“Never mind what it’s made of. Forget about that for now. Let’s focus on what it can do, rather than what it is.”
“How it.. carries information?” she asked.
“Yes. And like any sort of information, it has to be interpreted for it to be useful, right? Sort of like how everything I say would sound like complete gibberish, if it wasn’t for that translation spell.”
“Okay.”
“And do you know how that spell lets you know if I’m telling a joke - or when I’m being a sarcastic ass?”
“Um.. yes,” she blushed slightly.
“So, I can say the same exact set of words, but they can have completely different meanings - all depending on whether I’m being serious or silly. Now when a radio system is conveying information, it has to send the information itself, along with a signal to tell what the information means. Or it has to have some sort of pre-defined language used on both ends. A protocol, basically.”
“A protocol is like a language?”
“Yes. Very good.”
“And radios have many many different languages? I mean.. protocols?”
“Again, yes,” he shook his head. “Fluttershy? Do me a favor, and never get a job as an interrogator.”
“Am I asking too many questions? I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s not that. Just another one of my jokes. Don’t worry...”
“I wouldn’t want to hurt anyone. By asking questions, I mean.”
Trent sighed.
“Let’s forget about that for right now. I’m just surprised that you’re able to get the right answers without asking hardly any questions.”
“Oh. Um... Okay,” she paused briefly, as they began walking towards the door. “Um, Mr. Trent? If radio can be used for a lot of different languages.. or protocols, then who is actually talking?”
“Ahhh...” he muttered as he slowed to a stop. “Okay, this might be a little hard to explain, but I’ll try anyways.”
“Okay,” the pink and yellow pegasus stopped, and looked up attentively.
“Now, do you remember how I said that a planet’s mass creates gravity?”
“Yes.”
“Well, something called a superconducting electron channel collimated quantum field induction array.. or SECC-QFIA, for short.. that can create artificial gravity. Like what we’re standing in, right now.”
Fluttershy blinked slowly, wordlessly acknowledging that she had heard what he said, despite not understanding any of it.
“Ohh... I hope that wasn’t painful to listen to.”
“N.. no,” she lied as convincingly as possible. Tears welled in her eyes as her head pounded, but she tried her best to hide it.
“Okay, moving on...”
“Um... It doesn’t create gravity, does it? It just.. lets it through?”
“Ahh, yes...”
“But just a very tiny amount?”
“...Yes.”
Fluttershy shuddered as she looked at the deckplate.
“I’m scared of gravity.”
Trent nodded quickly before he quietly spoke.
“I am too.”
Her ears flattened against her head as she considered the statement. It wasn’t a joke.
“Anyways,” he continued. “Let’s not get too sidetracked. You wanted to know what uses radio to talk, right?”
She nodded.
“So gravity can be made naturally through mass, or artificially through technology.” He tapped his foot at the deckplate.
Fluttershy winced.
“This ship is made out of technology, right? A lot of different technologies?”
“Yes. Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“I still don’t really understand it though. Not all of it, anyways.”
“We’re getting there, don’t worry. Now, this,” he tapped at his forehead, “is what gives me thoughts, and intelligence.”
“Oh... Well I know that already,” she said evenly, resisting the urge that any other pony might have to cross their eyes and shout ‘Duh!’.
“And just like superconducting electron channel quantum induction thingy can create artificial gravity... A computer can create artificial intelligence!”
She blinked, genuinely not expecting to hear that.
“Is a computer a kind of technology that thinks?” she asked in a high pitched quaver.
“Almost. It’s not quite that smart yet. But it’s still very good at certain tasks. Like, how a plow is really good at digging furrows in the ground, but it doesn’t know anything about how to plant crops. Someone still needs to tell it what to do, right?”
“Um, yes. Okay.”
“So some computers just exist to calculate or process tasks. Like solving math problems, or recording information. Others are designed to act as artificial intelligences. And some others, are just designed to help us communicate.”
“By radio?”
“Yes.”
“And the computer that talks with radio knows all of the.. protocols?”
“You’re pretty quick at this.”
“Are you a computer?” she asked, her eyes opened wide.
“Ehh... No. But I do have one inside of me.” He waggled his fingers in the air. “I talk to to the computer, and it talks to other computers by radio.”
She stared at Trent contemplatively. The word no longer sent her head spinning.
“Did you understand all of that?” he asked hopefully.
“Yes, I think... The superconducting quantum interference array attached to your C3 vertebrae picks up signals from your central nervous system, processed by a field programmable gate array which sorts recognizable signals through a buffered memristor loop channel. Then the primary command module compares modulated nervous signals in the buffer against the precompiled symbol library, which are interpreted as actionable commands when the synchronous control channel is active. Then, the processor nodes attached to the thoracic T3 through T5 vertebrae interprets the commands through portable runtime software cluster, and sends packetized data to the software modem controlling the radio interface on your C5 vertebrae, which then modulates the data signal with an intermediary frequency, before sending it to one of the antenna arrays in your forearms, back, or shoulders.”
Trent crossed his arms, and the two stared at each other for a short time.
“Did you understand any of that?” he asked again.
She shook her head gently, as she cradled it upon her crossed forelegs.
“No. Not at all.”
“But it’s a good start,” he smiled as he kneeled next to her. “You already seem to grasp that a computer can act like a person, and carry out lots and lots of complex repetitive tasks. That’s a good thing to know, because you may end up learning a lot more about that.”
“Is that why the ship only needs six people? Because the artificial intelligence can run everything by itself?”
“Mm, yes. Very good observation.”
“What does it like to talk about?”
“Oh, I’m not really sure. It’s designed to run the ship, not to hold conversations.”
“Have you tried asking it? It might be lonely out here. In space, I mean.”
Trent chuckled. “I haven’t asked it how it’s feeling, but I suppose I could give it a try later. Or maybe I could let you talk to it.”
There was a brief pause as she looked up nervously.
“Would... Would I need a computer inside of me? To talk to the ship?”
“Well, that’s one way...”
“Are you going to put a computer inside me?” she asked quietly.
“Umm... I’ll leave that up to you. Sometime later. Don’t worry about it right now.” He stood, and offered his hand to Fluttershy’s trembling hoof.
“Mr. Trent?”
“Yes?”
“Does the ship know where those six people are?”
“No. It just knows that they’re not here. It doesn’t know why they left.”
She looked around nervously, before staring back to Trent.
“But I’ll try to find out, okay?” he said reassuringly.
“Okay.”
Trent pointed his hand at the unlit room beyond the doorway, and snapped his fingers. The clinical glare of harsh white fluorescent lighting flickered to life, revealing the entrance to the medical bay.
“Finally... Good to find some lights that aren’t burned out already.”
“Um.”
“Yes?”
“Is Officer Lancaster okay? We’ve been in here for a while now.”
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be fine. He brought a book, after all.”
“Yes, but we’ve been in here nearly an hour.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll be back before he knows it.”
* * *
Countdown. Four minutes to impact. The stopwatch ticked silently in the dark cramped compartment, strapped tightly to the cuff of the secondhand space suit. There was no light to see the dial, and no air to convey the incessant mechanical ticking of the large brass gear inside. Only the muffled tapping through the back of the watch as the seconds were sliced away. Tap, tap, tap, tap. Three sharp taps and two soft taps in rapid succession. Three minutes, thirty seconds. Tap, tap, tap, tap. Just like her rubber reflex mallet in her toolkit. Just hard enough to be felt through the suit against the terminal spur of her ulna.
Not the radius. The ulna. She should know. She had to know. She was going to be a doctor.
Six cervical vertebrae. Twelve thoracic. Five lumbar. Five sacral. No... Seven! Seven cervical vertebrae.
She clenched her fists in frustration. She was going to be a doctor! Doctor’s can’t make mistakes like that. Seven cervical, twelve thoracic, five lumbar, five sacral.
Hangman’s break. Fracture of the pars interarticularis or pedicles of the C2 axis vertebrae. Common injury sustained due to hyperextension of the neck during sudden deceleration.
During a crash.
TAP, TAP, TAP, tap. Three minutes, fifteen seconds to impact. She reached out to touch the console, feeling it in the dark. Airbags on both sides. Nitrocellulose charges. Easier to make than sodium azide. Not as touchy as some of the other propellants. She hoped they would fire anyways. The heaving of her breath came as a muffled rush of hot air within the glass faceplate. That’s what the airbags were for. To keep the glass from shattering against the console, or the canopy.
Vacuum exposure. Exhale as fast as you can. Scream until all the air is out of your lungs. Scream until you pass out. No way to know if you’ll wake up, but it’s the only chance you’ve got.
TAP, TAP, TAP. Three minutes.
Fifth cervical compression fracture. Paralysis from the arms down. T12 disc herniation. Loss of feeling in the lower limbs. She hooked her fingers beneath the spiderweb of thick nylon straps, and pulled. The restraint harness still didn’t budge. She kept checking anyways.
Nothing floating in the cabin. No free float projectiles. She felt her forearm. The stiff metal handle of her scalpel was sealed within the riveted sleeve of folded leather. She unsnapped the sheath to feel the smooth roundel at the end of the milled stainless steel rod. The counterweight. Her fingers squeezed the familiar shape through the silicone pads in her gloves. It was reassuring to her. The only thing within her reach that she felt comfortable with.
Seven hundred and sixty five kilograms of steel, carbon fiber, and propellant. A singleship quietly adrift in the plane of Sol. Ahead, a small B-type carbonaceous chondrite asteroid. Low albedo. Nearly invisible from the dull distant glimmer of the sun.
Seven hundred and sixty five kilograms of spaceship. One scared little girl. Two minutes, thirty seconds to impact.
Dim pinpoints of light burned quietly overhead. The old stars. The remnants of the early universe. Children of the stellar titans that forged the first heavy elements. So few remained, high in their eccentric orbits above the galactic bulge. She stared longingly at their steady glow, thinking back to the times when the sight of the universe outside instilled a sense of amazement and wonder. Back when space was a rich and beautiful vista that beckoned for discovery. Back before the war. Before the raids. Before the colony firefights, and the vacuum deaths. Before the hunger and the long silence. Before life became a vicious and vindictive game of cat and mouse.
Before they made ten year old girls learn to pilot spaceships.
When she was little, she had wanted to become a doctor. After the raids started, it became a necessity. But that changed nothing as far as she was concerned. Learning a little about everything was a necessity. Specializing in medicine went beyond that. It was her drive. Her duty. Her hand drifted back to the leather sheath strapped to her arm, feeling the long heavy scalpel silently rattling inside.
Kids her age, kids back on Earth. Those kids got presents. They got toys. The scalpel was neither a present, nor was it a toy. It was a gift. A tool. A symbol of her special talent.
Her instrument.
The scalpel could harm, or it could heal. A spectrum of potential. But the scalpel was useless without the hand to guide it. Just like her. Useless without her instrument. It was an extension of herself. An infinitesimally narrow edge through which she could touch another life.
To harm, or to heal. Her legacy written by the scalpel, as a pen within her fingertips. That was her purpose in life.
Their purpose.
The light from above shone down faintly. The same light that had witnessed the birth of humanity, and the fiery genesis of the planet that borne them. Light that sang across the heavens since long before the furnace of Sol flickered into a stellar inferno. The ancient stars. Wise and stalwart in the immense measure of their years. Cold and uncaring in their unfathomable distance. Feeble pinpricks of light that silently whispered the violent and breathtaking history of the early universe.
For what stories they could tell had long since been lost to the void of space. All that remained was an undisputed moral. That all things, meek and magnificent, will someday end. Even the stars. Even the cosmos. Time had the final say.
The crude grid of welded tubing cast a barely perceptible shadow across her. The waffle grate was wired shut across the crumpled rim of the cockpit, where the glass canopy would have been. She reached through the gap, seeing the glove of her suit illuminated brightly outside of the dark confines of the steel bathtub. A distinct shadow crossed her arm where it passed through the metal grate of the ersatz canopy. The brass bezel of the watch glinted in the void.
TAP, TAP, tap. Two minutes, fifteen seconds. She quickly pulled her hand back inside.
She leaned forward, and the seat leaned with her. Solid stainless steel segments that followed her body like a second spine. Metal ribs that curved with her back. Thick nylon straps that embraced her limbs and torso. She was not sitting in the ship. She was melded with it.
Her helmet pressed against the grate, and she peered through. Where the stars above were sparse and distant, those to her side were thick and bright. Clouds of gas became clouds of stars, stretching brilliantly across the disc as far as she could see.
Seven hundred and sixty five kilograms of spaceship, adrift in a river of stars. A young girl, at peace with the universe. Gliding quietly through contested space.
A species of hateful factions, vying for control of a damp rock circling a glowing mote of gas, as ants fighting for purchase upon a leaf within a turbulent stream. Resolute in their reasoning and prideful in their prejudice. Words shouted into microphones were amplified into the roar of nations. Indignant in their imagined impotence, united against one another. Strained by their incessant squabbles until they were stranded upon that very rock, defiantly dictating their will upon those who had left them behind. Hurling their enraged epithets to those who watched from above.
Yet those who looked down from high above were not immune. Gravity held back the mass, yet light still carried the message. A message of dissent, and polarizing division. At one time, they were explorers and entrepreneurs. Scientists and scholars. Colonists of the void, one and all. Those few of Earth’s burgeoning population that were driven by their own free will to nail their names into the pages of history. To simply go forth, and leave behind the world they knew.
Those times were gone. The ties had been severed, the bridges burned. The Van Allen belts burned hot with radioisotopes, their magnetic regions grossly swollen and impassable. Dirty bombs. The few and final shots fired in a war of independence. An act of containment. Defiance against those who sought to carve up the colonies into their far-flung fiefdoms.
Across the barrier, through the many years, two branches of humanity endured the sacrifice of separation. Resentment stewed and smoldered, but slowly fell by the wayside. New conflicts emerged. New hatreds festered in the minds of good men.
All from a simple decision.
Indecision kills you faster than the wrong decision. That was drilled into her head many times. Many clung to it as a spiritual mantra. Their last refuge against self doubt.
The decision to go to war against Earth. To blockade her orbits with hot fissionables. It was not the right decision, as some would argue, nor was it the wrong decision, as others steadfastly claimed. It was simply the decision that they lived by. It had been argued for and against many times, by many words. Many impassioned speeches, fervent debates, and pleas for compromise.
Now it was argued by the barrel of a gun. The scientists and explorers and colonists were no more. There were no citizens of space. It was simply us against them.
Stupid, stupid, stupid...
TAP TAP. Two minutes.
Too dark to check her notes. She had to go by memory. Thirty minutes since the last burn started, seven minutes since it ended. Frame change. Low thrust with the flame suppressor bolted on. Didn’t want to be seen. Push the throttle too hard and everybody on this half of Sol will see the infrared plume. Don’t want that. Don’t want to be here at all. Two impulse turnaround from the reaction wheel. Not a good idea to use thrusters. Delta-V burned off, relevant velocity knocked down to about fifteen meters per second. About thirty-five miles per hour. Whatever a mile was supposed to look like. Stupid unnamed rock, relevant in less than two minutes. Six hours of being strapped into the ship. All going to be over in two minutes.
Assuming her math was right. Assuming she flew the ship properly. Didn’t want to miss. Or come in too fast. This was her test. Her training day. The last place she wanted to be.
TAP tap tap. One minute, thirty seconds.
She leaned back, feeling the seat recline as straight as a ramrod. Checked the straps again. Still tight. The faint pinpricks of light peeked through the grate of steel tubing. She laid back and blinked her eyes for a moment as the singleship sailed quietly toward its destination.
Interloper. Intruder.
She hoped that she was alone.
TAP. The brass watch snapped against her wrist with one last solid thwack. One minute.
She felt at her arm again, pushing the end of the scalpel home into the leather sheath. Pressing the button on the end of the flap until it clicked shut.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
Training day. Nobody cared about birthdays anymore. Didn’t matter. Three hundred and sixty five days. Days didn’t make any sense. Not out here. Not in the harsh monochrome palette of space. The bright sunlight of the day and the muted twinkling starlight of night were always there, just depending on which way you looked. To the sun or to the stars. Days, months, and years were meaningless. Just an arbitrary increment on a clock or a computer. Nobody kept track of days. Nobody kept track of birthdays either. No. It was training days that mattered. That’s when your name changed. Today she was going to become a pilot. Someday she would become a doctor. First things first.
She closed her eyes and sighed, nervously clenching her fists within the loose fitting gloves. Today would be over soon.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
Impact in about thirty seconds. Her last test. She pressed her back against the seat and checked the harness again. Solid. She didn’t want to crash. Even if she knew exactly what she was supposed to do. Can’t use the radio. Rescue beacon disabled. Had to pretend it was active, and wait. Waiting was the worst. Waiting could make you claustrophobic. Even with just millimeters of rolled steel between you and the rest of the universe. No way to see out, but they can’t see in. She’d be lit up like a light bulb in the IR spectrum. The ship could be kept cool. She couldn’t. Had to stay inside. And wait.
Tap, tap, tap.
She hated waiting.
The seconds ticked by. Impact any time now. No way to tell if she was going to be perfectly on time. No way to tell if she was going to hit her target. She didn’t want to crash, but she didn’t want to fail. She’d just have to do it all over again.
Tap, tap.
The cockpit was dark. The world was silent. Her body was calm, but her mind raced.
She wanted to be a doctor.
Tap.
The watch stopped. She did not dare to look. Laying flat, and staring through the grate, she forced herself to relax.
Never close your eyes. Ever.
Seconds passed. The watch had stopped, but she could still feel the invisible tapping.
No! Something was wrong! It should have happened already. No, no, no! Her hand shot towards the watch, grasping the bezel and twisting it a quarter turn. Tap tap tap. About fifteen minutes. Had to keep it ticking. Had to keep track.
What if she missed. What if she had to do this all over again! No! Her breaths came fast and shallow. What if...
There was a short sharp shock, and a long silence.
Tap, tap, tap...
* * *
The medical bay did not share the vast quiet expanse of the hangar. As Fluttershy stepped through the door, the abrupt transition to a straight narrow corridor within the belly of the ship sent her heart racing within a renewed grip of claustrophobia. Back in the hangar, the hot steady glow of the arc lights cast their diffuse glow through the twinkling of dust and reflected from the grimy texture of every steel surface. Inside the medical bay, bright artificial lighting flickered across shiny sterile tiles that melded neatly into the beige plastic walls. It felt lifeless, as if the corridor strove to be impartial and wilfully ignorant to the lives that passed through it.
“Is this the hospital?” she asked quietly.
The corridor stretched on for a ways, ending in a set of tall imposing steel doors with circular glass windows.
“Well, this is the entrance to the hospital,” Trent began.
“The ingress?”
“Ah, yes. You see how long this corridor is. Imagine how it would look when it’s filled with people, all standing in line.”
Fluttershy nodded.
“And not everybody that comes in needs to be treated, but it’s a good idea to check them out, just in case.”
“What about the people that are hurt?”
“Well, they would go into one of these rooms,” he gestured at the wide squat doorways that marked the corridor at regular intervals. “That’s where they can get treated.”
There was a sharp gasp.
“Is something wrong?”
She shook her head, but stared fervently at the doors running along the wall.
“That’s not really where they treat people, is it? That’s where they decide who gets treated,” she uttered nervously.
“It can be,” he said slowly. “It’s called...”
“Triage,” she finished.
“Yes, very good!”
“But why would they do that? It would be just awful to make that kind of decision!”
“The decision about who gets treated?”
“Yes!”
“Well, you see how many people can fit in here, right? Imagine if a lot of them are hurt. Seriously hurt.”
Her knees began to shake at the vague imagery of Trent’s idle thoughts.
“This isn’t like any hospital I’ve ever seen. Hospitals are where sick ponies go to get better. Not... Not like this.”
“Ohh, Fluttershy. Don’t worry. It’s not always like that. Just, sometimes.”
“Sometimes? You mean that only sometimes people are hurt really badly?”
“Yes. But sometimes, a lot of people are hurt really badly.”
“But... Is there another place they could go? Is there a hospital like this for every platform outside?”
“Yes. Now imagine if every one of them is being overrun with refugees, survivors, and the seriously wounded. It’s not an easy decision to make, you know... To say who dies so that others might live. But they try to do the best they can, with what they have.”
“Is that what the doctors on a ship have to do?”
“Yes.”
Fluttershy shuddered at the thought.
“Trent?” her voice cracked as she slowly asked the question. “How do they decide?”
“As quickly as possible.”
She started to look sick.
“That... That wasn’t one of your jokes. Even if it did sound like one.” Her voice carried no trace of question.
“No. It wasn’t. There are times where they don’t have the time to choose carefully. At that point, it’s not about who gets saved, but how many get saved.”
She stepped back, and sat near the base of the wall, shaking her head firmly.
“I don’t think I could ever do that. I’d never, ever want to make that kind of choice.”
Trent kneeled next to the pink and yellow pony.
“Nobody wants to make that choice. But sometimes they have to. Life isn’t always easy.”
“I couldn’t do that.”
“Are you so sure about that?”
She started to nod, but looked back up at Trent.
“Are you asking me, because you already know the answer?” She sniffled, staring back through wide wet eyes.
Trent grinned.
“Well maybe. Maybe. It depends on you, really.”
“I said that I can’t do something like that. Not ever.” Her head shook resolutely.
“Ahh! But you did! Just now!”
She started to look surprised, but no longer had the capacity for it.
“What do you mean?”
“When you brought me down here. You thought I was seriously injured, right?”
“Yes... But I was wrong.”
“Doesn’t matter. You acted, and you acted because you knew what had to be done. You acted when any other pony might have just screamed and ran around in circles.”
“But I am the pony that screams and runs around in circles!” she wailed.
Trent shook his head. “You did it when it mattered. That’s what was important. And it was very brave of you.”
“Oh... Um, I mean...”
“You’re welcome.”
“Why do you keep saying it’s so important? You said that you’re going to be okay. I didn’t really do anything to make a difference.”
“Because... Indecision can kill faster than the wrong decision. And not just yourself, but perhaps the lives of those who depend upon you. Remember that. Imagine if I had been injured badly. Perhaps bleeding out, and unconscious. In that case, you would have made a difference. You would have saved both of us.”
“Both of us?”
“Well, without me, you would be trapped here.”
Her only response was a sharp intake of breath.
“Sorry. I probably should have mentioned that sooner. But don’t worry though. I’ll try not to die or anything. Or become otherwise incapacitated.”
“Tr... Trapped?” she choked out.
"Well, yes. I don’t think we’re in Equestria anymore, Toto.”
“What do you mean trapped?” her voice rose several octaves.
“It doesn’t matter right now. We’ll be fine. But I wanted to point out that you had a very hard choice to make. You were terrified of coming down here, right? But you did it anyways, because you knew exactly what needed to be done, and you didn’t let your fears get in the way of carrying that out. You didn’t hesitate. You did the right thing.”
Her head nodded slightly. Her eyes simply gazed at an invisible point far distant from the confines of the corridor.
“Sometimes, the doctors who would work in here, would have to make hard choices like that. Sometimes it’s an absolutely terrible choice to make, but if they let that slow them down, then more people would have perished. They couldn’t stop, because others depended on them. The same goes for the pilots that repeatedly threw themselves into harm’s way for the fleeting chance that the risk to their life might save another.”
“I can’t make that kind of choice...”
“Sometimes... It’s hard to make the right choice, and sometimes the right choice is hard to make. But be aware that time is very rarely on your side. You have to think quickly, and act quickly.”
Her head shook. “I’m not a hero.”
“That’s what they all say.”
She turned to look quizzically at Trent, seated next to her. He flashed a quick smile, and patted the base of her neck.
"Come on. Let's go."
She nodded.
“Through there?” her hoof gestured to the end of the corridor.
“Nah. Nothing we need in there, right now. Let’s go this way,”
Trent stepped to the squat wide door set against the hallway, pressing his palms against it, as if he were listening through his fingertips. It lacked the slick automation of the other doors in the ship. Instead of pointing and gesturing, Trent grasped a long bent stainless steel handle, and threw his weight behind it. There was a loud groan as metal slid against metal, and a soft hiss as the bar reached the horizontal position, clicking into a mechanical detente. Satisfied, he rotated the bar to the floor, and pushed to the side, sending the large steel plate sliding along its rails.
What lay before them appeared to be a hospital emergency room, but unlike any that Fluttershy had seen. In place of soft comfortable beds, there were rows of folding steel gurneys topped with thick plastic slabs. At one corner of the room, dozens of these beige slabs were stacked like plates at the end of a buffet table. One slab laid atop supports jutting from a track in the wall, ready to carry its contents elsewhere within the ship at a moments notice.
“Are those the hospital beds?”
“Yes. Well, not really. They’re just temporary until the patient is, ah...”
“Stabilized?”
“Yes. Exactly. Anyways, they’re used to transport the patient to a specialized room, depending on what sort of injury they’re being treated for. It’s really rather quick and efficient, and it does help speed up triage.”
“Oh...”
“Hmm?”
“Well, I was just going to say, they didn’t look very comfortable,” she tapped a hoof at the utilitarian slab of plastic.
“Ahh. Yes. The comfy beds are elsewhere in the ship. Just not here.”
“I see.”
“And sometimes it’s not even a bed. Sometimes it’s a pool, a walk-in freezer, or something that looks like a tanning booth.”
“For all the different kinds of people?”
“You guessed it. Anyways, let’s get me patched up, so we can get out of here.”
“Okay. What do I need to do?”
“Two things. First, do you see that bag hanging on the wall there? Grab one of those.”
She flew gently up to the wall, where a bulky plastic package hung on two metal rails. A plastic strap emblazoned with bright red letters stretched loosely across the top.”
“Trent, what does this say?”
“Pull here.”
“Oh.”
She grasped the strap with her teeth, and pulled. The plastic rings tore away from the rails, and the bag fell against her chest. Suddenly, there was a quiet shuffling sound from above her, and she darted backwards.
A new bag fell down from an open chute, sliding along the rails until it slapped into the wall. ‘Pull here’, emblazoned in bright red letters across its handle.
“See? Guaranteed fresh. The Autofab never sleeps.”
Fluttershy winced.
“Ahh. It makes things.”
“It made this?” she said, dropping the bag on the gurney.
“Yep.”
“And this?” she tapped at the plastic slab where Trent was sitting.
“Eeyup.”
“And even the whole ship?” she gasped incredulously.
“Well... No. But it could, if it had to. Things wear out after a while, and it’s easier just to make replacement parts than carry them around.”
“What if the Autofab breaks?”
“Then the other Autofab would build a replacement.”
Her eyes went wide, and a soft whimper escaped from her throat.
“And you had a ship like this, to spare?”
“Ah, yes. Doesn’t mean it was cheap, though. Just happened to be the right tool for the job.”
“Are there.. a lot of ships like this?”
“Yeah. Don’t know the exact number off the top of my head though. Kinda lost count. Anyways, lets not get sidetracked here.”
“O... Okay. Um. What was the second thing you wanted me to do?”
“Ahh... Well. Kind of an odd question, but do you, or the other ponies, generally wear clothes?”
“What? Well, um... Yes, sometimes. Why?”
“I suppose what I’m asking is, is it generally considered vulgar or obscene to not be wearing clothes?”
She winced, again.
“Ah... No idea what I’m talking about, right?”
“Not really,” her head shook at the completely alien thoughts. “Why?”
Trent sighed.
“Nevermind. I was going to ask you to turn around for a moment, but I guess it’s not really necessary. Or applicable.”
“Oh. I could still turn around, if you want,” she said, thoroughly confused.
“It’s fine. My sense of modesty died out a long time ago.”
“What?”
“Nevermind.”
He reached into his pockets and emptied their contents onto the gurney. A matte black plastic cylinder, the rectangular metal handle with the ring on the end, and a thick brass timepiece.
A pen, a knife, and a watch.
From his back pocket, he proffered the cast iron cookie that Pinkie had made. Fluttershy stared at it briefly.
“Um... Mr. Trent?”
“Yes?”
“Did Pinkie Pie give you that?”
“Oh, this? Yes. I thought it was very nice of her.”
“Oh. Um...”
“What is it?”
“Can you see in X-rays?”
“What?”
“Um... Nothing. Nevermind.”
Trent shook his head, as he pulled his belt from his waist. He kicked his boots off, and shuffled his pants down, before hopping up and sitting on the gurney.
“Mr. Trent?”
“Yeeessss?”
“Why do you wear two pairs of pants?”
“...I’ll tell you later.”
“Do you need to take those off too?”
“No.”
“Oh. Um... Mr. Trent?”
“Look! You know how male ponies tend to keep it tucked away when it’s not in use? Not us. It just hangs out, all the time. Ponies go clippity-clop, and humans go flippity-flop. I’m sure you’re dying to learn all about human anatomy in the context of emergency medicine and trauma response, but probably not on the first date.”
She blushed until her face was as nearly as pink as her mane.
“I’m sorry. Is that what you were asking about?”
Her head shook. Her eyes stared straight at his midsection.
“No,” she squeaked.
“Ahh. Sorry about that.”
There was a long awkward silence.
“Mr. Trent?”
“Yes?”
“When you said that we could be trapped here...”
“Don’t worry, we won’t.”
“Okay. But... This ship is in space, right?”
“Yep.”
“Then where is Equestria?”
“On a planet.”
“Is the planet in space too?”
“Yes.”
“Are they in the same space?”
“Do you mean, are they near each other in space?”
Her head shook.
“Umm... Probably. I don’t really know, to be honest. I just got there a few days ago.”
“Twice?”
“Huh?”
“How did you get there twice?”
“Ahh, I’m just loving this translation spell... Yes. I can come and go to the same place. Just like we’ll be going back to Equestria when we’re finished here.”
“Oh, well I understand that. But how did you arrive twice, at the same time?”
There was another long awkward silence.
“No more questions right now, please. I’ll tell you later, when it can make sense.”
“Okay...”
“Now do you see this bag?”
She nodded.
“Let’s start with this,” he said, as he pulled open it open. The thick plastic hissed and inflated as the vacuum seal broke. Trent dumped the contents onto the gurney, and shuffled them with his free hand.
“Here we go. Gauze, bandages, a saline sponge, and an iodine sponge. Don’t touch anything yet.”
“Okay.”
“Now first you need a sterile covering - but I don’t think this would fit you,” he waved a five-fingered latex glove, before setting it aside.
“Is that to minimize.. contamination?”
“Yes. Very good.”
“Against germs?”
“Yes.”
“What are those?”
“Ahh, well... Do you know what happens when a pony gets sick?”
She nodded. “Do the germs make ponies get sick?”
“Well, sort of. Being sick is what happens when your body is fighting off the infection caused by the germs.”
“Ohh. But... How do germs make ponies sick? They’re very very small, right?”
“Yes, but they reproduce and spread very quickly. Fortunately, your body can fight them off, and kill all the germs that make you sick.”
Fluttershy blinked.
“But, how do you know that? You’ve never met one of us until just a few days ago, right? How do you know that our bodies would um.. kill germs?”
“Because. You’re still here, right?”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Well, just about every creature you know of has the capability to fight germs. And it’s been that way for a very very long time.”
“What happened to the creatures that didn’t kill germs by themselves. By getting sick, I mean.”
“They’re not here anymore.”
Fluttershy breathed deeply.
“I’m sorry. No more questions,” she shuddered.
“It’s fine, don’t worry. Although, I have a question for you.”
“Oh, yes?”
“Are you able to grab anything with those? Er, your hooves, I mean.”
She nodded, once again resisting the urge that any other pony would have to roll her eyes and shout “Duuuh”.
“Can I see?” he held out the packet containing the saline sponge.
Her hoof pressed over it and flexed, squeezing it between the horseshoe shape.
“Oh, that’s interesting. So your hooves are kind of flexible?”
“Well, yes. Everypony knows that. How else would we hold things?”
“Where I’m from, we have ponies too. But they don’t look anything like you. Their eyes are a lot smaller, they don’t have binocular vision, and their hooves are completely solid.”
“Oh! How do they eat then? Or pick up things?”
“Straight from the ground, or a feed trough. And they don’t pick things up, build houses, or organize themselves into nation-states either.”
“Oh.. my.”
“And they don’t have wings and horns. Or speech. Or tool making. I mean, they’re sentient, depending on who you ask, but not sapient.”
“Um...”
“Yes?”
“What’s binocular vision?”
“Ahh, that’s when you have two or more eyes facing straight forward for better depth perception, or stereopsis. Like you and me. It’s common in most...”
“Predators?” she asked quietly.
“Er, yes. Just like animals that have eyes on the sides of their head are usually...”
“Prey?”
“Yep!”
“And the other ponies, where you’re from... are prey?”
“Well, technically.”
“And you’re a predator?” she shirked away slightly.
He sighed again. “Yes, yes. Just as much as you are,” he pointed two fingers at Fluttershy’s wide eyes. “But don’t worry. We don’t eat ponies. Just... No more questions for right now, okay?”
“Okay,” she squeaked.
“Right. Now, put this on,” he held up a large floppy plastic tube.
It was the sort of tube that caused universally widespread snickering among any heteromorphic species that shared a similar reproductive topology.
“Umm...” she eyed the luridly dangling plastic sheath. She took a deep breath, and swallowed.
“Yes?”
“I don’t think I can do that.”
“Huh? Why not?”
“Well, it’s just that... Um,” she looked nervously from side to side. “I don’t think I have the right... I mean... I’m not sure if I ever told you that I’m actually a mare,” she stammered.
Trent slapped his hand to his face.
“It goes on your hoof.”
“Oh! Ohhh. Okay.”
“Urghh... And in case it ever comes up, never ever use it in the manner you were just thinking.”
A high pitched embarrassed squeaking came back in acknowledgement.
“It’s just like a regular glove, but this is the one-size-fits-all variety.”
“Oh,” she held her foreleg up high. The sheath slid down past her knee.
“It’s called heat-shrink latex, despite being made of neither. Really complicated chemical name, but that’s the best way to describe it. Now do you see that loop at the end? Pull it.”
A seam ran down the length of the tube, terminating with a small loop. Fluttershy bit it with her teeth, and tugged. The whole length of it stretched like taffy, until the rest of the plastic suddenly shrank around her leg until it resembled a sausage casing.
“Eeep!” she darted into the air, shaking her leg in a panic.
“It’s perfectly fine. Just relax. I told you it shrinks. Mechanically catalyzed chemical reaction. It’s not too tight is it?”
“No,” she stared at her encased hoof.
“Once again. Never use it as a substitute for... Oh, nevermind. You’d be surprised how often people can’t follow simple instructions. Anyways! Moving along...”
“Okay.”
Trent pulled his knees up to his chest. The flesh was raw and abraded, with dried blood caked around the jagged bits of torn skin. He picked up one tiny packet, and tore it open. A moist sponge fell out.
“Saline.”
Fluttershy rubbed the sponge over the wounds, washing out dried blood and blackened flecks of non-skid.
“Iodine,” he said, opening up the next packet.
She grasped the reddish sponge, and pressed it against the wound. Trent hissed.
“Ow... No, no. Keep going. You’re doing good.”
“Is this what sterilizing means? Killing all the germs?”
“Yes. You’re pretty astute at this.”
“Thank you.” Her wings ruffled with pride.
“Now for the last bit.” He tore open a package of gauze. “Hold this here, and put some pressure on it. If someone’s bleeding, always apply pressure first. You can think about the next step later.”
“Okay,” she said, as her hoof pressed firmly.
He started to roll a long bandage around his knee, holding the gauze in place.
“This can be kind of hard to do without opposable thumbs. But you’re doing a great job so far.”
She smiled. “Well, I have had some practice. I take care of many animals near my cottage, and in the nearby swamp. All kinds of pets and woodland creatures, really. Sometimes they get sick, or hurt really badly, but I was always there to help.”
The roll of bandages passed from hands to hooves, and she finished wrapping it around Trent’s knee.
“That’s quite admirable of you.”
“Thank you,” she said, carefully pressing the wet sponge against his other leg.
“Did you ever have to rescue an injured creature from something dangerous?”
Her head shook. “No. Well, not usually, I mean.”
“Not usually?”
The iodine sponge pressed firmly against Trent’s knee, beneath a gently quivering hoof.
“There was one time,” she started softly. “When a log rolled down from the edge of a stream bank, and there was a baby deer drinking from there...” her voice trailed off.
“Oh? Was it trapped?”
She nodded. “It was. It was nearly crushed too. The stream was only a few inches deep, but... But the baby deer could barely keep its head above the water.”
She pressed the gauze to Trent’s knee, and rolled the bandages with mechanical precision.
“Did you have to call for help?”
“No. No, I couldn’t. It was inside the forest, and there were no other ponies around. Just me.”
The bandages pulled tighter.
“I’m sorry.”
“The log was so heavy. But when it happened, it didn’t feel that way. I tried to move it later, but it wouldn’t budge. I couldn’t even make it roll. But when I was there... I lifted it by myself. Enough to pull the deer out and fly us both out of there, before I dropped it.”
Trent listened.
“I did everything I could. Everything. But it didn’t move. It couldn’t move. It... It was still breathing, for a while. I don’t think it could feel anything. It must have been really painful, but It didn’t seem to feel anything where... Where it was broken.”
“Have you ever told anyone about that?”
Her head shook.
“I think... That must have been very scary for it. Not being able to feel. I wasn’t able to help. I really wish I could have. But all I was able to do was hold its head in my lap. I sang to it too. Mostly lullabies. That’s all I could think of.”
She looked up at Trent.
“I told it that everything would be okay.”
Her head sank. One stiff palm rested atop her shoulder, and squeezed gently.
“You did everything you could. You did exactly what needed to be done.”
An imperceptible nod came as her only reply.
“It wasn’t enough,” she whispered.
“I’ve been in some situations like that. Not that I can say that it’s anything like what you’ve been through. No. I’m not going to make your experience sound cheap by saying that I feel exactly what you’re feeling. But... I’ve seen things before. The kind of things that I don’t like to tell to anyone.”
There was a long pause, as the two sat on the gurney. One hand softly patting beneath a pink mane.
“Were you a doctor?”
“No. No... I had a good friend that was one though. Picked up a few things from him. Swell guy, even if he was a bit of goofball.”
“Did you ever see anypony... I mean, any person, die?”
Trent pursed his lips together, holding his words back carefully.
“Stransky. I remember Stransky.”
“Oh? Who was that?”
“Third platoon leader. Down planetside in Colombia. He got hit.”
The fur pricked up on the back of Fluttershy’s neck.
“I wasn’t really there to help,” Trent continued. “Had more pressing matters at the time. But I stayed with him for a bit. Good kid. He came from a different country with a different language. He taught me a bit of it, but Меня зовут Трент Питерович is about the most I can remember. Anyways. It was pretty dark at the time. Third platoon was making an advance, trying to keep up the pressure. Had to stay low. Plasma and counterbattery fire coming from downrange. Bastards just wouldn’t climb that hill. We sent the banshees after them. Pneumatic cutters and discus launchers. Shaped charges that looked like a frisbee. Puff puff puff, POW POW POW! There was this godawful scream when they recharged their differential tanks. Hilsch tubes. Maxwell’s Demons. That’s how they got the name. Robots made out of razor blades. They tore into em while we beat them down with the auto howitzers and the fission drones. Still wasn’t enough.”
He paused to breathe.
“Anyways, like I said... It was pretty dark. Pitch black jungle lit up by the criss cross of green plasma and flashes from the shot-fall. Everybody stuck out like a sore thumb on the thermals. Even them. Couldn’t see them up close, but they didn’t look like anything natural on the IR scope. That... That’s around the time he got hit. Some people scream over the radio when they get hit, you know. Not Stransky. No. He tried though. Just... Didn’t have the lungs for it. Diaphragm torn out. Wasn’t plasma though, that would’ve been easier. Rail shot. Took out half of his torso. Made my way over to him, but I couldn’t do much to help. Fleet Surgical Team Four did the real work. Up on the Houston. I wired a teleop circuit into a few grunts on the ground and they got him stable. That’s pretty much all I did. All I could do at the time. Had to keep the pressure up. Had to keep moving.”
Fluttershy listened quietly. Her head swam with hundreds of thoughts, all bizarre and unintelligible. The descriptions were meaningless, yet the emotion struck with profound clarity.
Trent continued to speak, breaking off into disjointed sentences and slurred fragments of dredged thoughts. His lips moved, but his eyes simply stared.
“Ninety thousand feet. Skipping like a stone over a river. Dove in over El Atlantica Concordia. They used to call that Venezuela, you know. Dove hard. Down to thirty thousand in a few minutes. Glowed red like a cherry, all over. Ground came up fast, and so did the streamers. We traded hard. Lit em up with the bright lights. Dumped every point defense we had. God... Just so many of them.”
“Mr. Trent?”
“Counterbattery fire looked like a red carpet. Nowhere to run. Just had to stay put and let the mechs sort it out. Thunderclaps in the sky. Thunderclaps on the ground. All walking towards you. Everyone was a statistic eventually. Pencil rain made sure of that. Trying to fight two wars at once. Shot-fall tearing up the jungle. Streamers and pop tops slamming into the hull. Engine three gone. No lateral control. Pitched her into a dive while streaming a forty tesla coronal loop behind us like a kite tail. Lost power, and the field collapsed hard enough to induce a paramagnetic ionization heave in the thermocline. Dropped past five thousand, and the potential equalized. Whole forest canopy lit up. Lichtenberg lightning off the tip of every treetop, all in one big blinding swoop from everywhere at once. Then there were the big flashes. Electric field strong enough to jam the reset button in your brain for a few seconds. So bright you couldn’t see. Loud enough to give you a concussion. Couldn’t remember much from that. Nobody could.”
“Um... Mr. Trent?”
“They had a whole army in front of us. Planetary beachhead. But they were too late though. Ohhhh.. ho ho. Just a little too late. I got to stand there and watch. I watched them burn.”
“Trent?”
His lips peeled back into an angry snarl. Short breaths hissed through bared white teeth.
“Bastards almost got away with it. Oh, how they pleaded. And we fell for it. Lambs to the slaughter, each and every one of us. Even those poor bastards we fried in the jungle. Even them.”
“Trent,” she laid one hoof on his shoulder. His head snapped up with a jolt, eyes coming back into focus, staring back at Fluttershy in confusion.
“Huh? Oh, yes?”
“It’s okay.”
“Yeah... Yeah. It’s okay,” he sighed.
“You did everything you could, right?”
His head shook quickly.
“No. I didn’t really. I could have stayed. Wouldn’t have changed anything, though. He’d probably still be dead. Myself too, perhaps.” He slumped forward, resting his head on his freshly bandaged knees.
“But... I thought you said you saved him? Stransky, I mean.”
“High explosive round. Didn’t hit him directly, but the shockwave did him in. Him and the other three guys teleop’d back into the Houston. It might have been different though. The mechs and the mobile platforms were keeping the sky clean, but... I had the priority. So much shot-fall. Not enough pinpoint beams to go around. I had my job to carry out, and I did. We traded pretty hard, but we won. Anything else might have gone differently. But that was the choice, and it was the choice I made.”
“I’m sorry.”
“They tried to call me a hero when we got back,” he closed his eyes and shook his head. “That’s us. The survivors. The Heroes. Everyone else was a statistic. None of us believed that for a minute.”
“I think,” she said quietly, “that you all were heroes.”
“We were all just statistics. Task force against a forward army. Had to play it by numbers. Wasn’t any choice there. That’s the game we played. Could have saved a lot of people that night by not engaging. Let it be someone else’s problem. But that... That would’ve been a full scale war, with exponentially higher losses. The lives of many were paid for by the lives of us few. We could have done it differently though. Might have found a better way. We had at least that much of a choice. You didn’t. There was nothing you could have done differently. But you did it anyways. You did everything you could when there was no hope of changing the outcome. That... That’s something more than being a hero. That’s compassion. Selflessness. That’s who you are.”
His head lifted, eyes locked with the pink and yellow pegasus.
“I told Stranksy that everything was going to be all right.”
They stared at each other for a short while. Hoof and hand grasped together, silently speaking what words could not convey.
“Are you ready to go?” Trent asked, after some time.
“Are we all done here?”
“Yes. I believe so. Lets just clean up here, and pack everything else back into the bag. Waste not, want not, you know.”
“Oh, of course. Um... Trent? What about this?” she held up her gloved foreleg.
“Ahh. That’s easy,” he said, hooking his finger into the plastic loop, and giving a sharp pull. The glove split down the seam, all the way to the tip of her hoof, shedding like a skin of a snake.
“Thank you.”
Trent stood, and dressed, slipping the various items back in his pocket, and cinching his belt.
“Fluttershy? Do you remember a little while back, when I said that we didn’t need to come down here?”
“Yes, I do. But I’m glad that we did. You’ve shown me that I really need to face my fears, and press on when I might be too scared otherwise. You showed me that the greatest obstacles are sometimes in my mind, rather than directly in front of me. And that sometimes, others might depend on the actions I take, and how quickly I can do it.”
“Mmmhmm.”
“Um... Is that what you wanted to ask me?”
“Oh, not really. I was just going to mention earlier, before you pushed me off the platform... That we could have just taken the elevator,” he pointed at the wall and flicked his fingers.
A single smooth recessed door slid to the side.
“Ready to go see a spaceplane?”
She smiled and nodded, waiting for Trent to turn around before twisting her face into the most grotesquely profound visage of incredulous annoyance.
"Well, I mean its very nice of you, and I really do appreciate it. But why are you spending so much time just to show me a space plane, when there are so many other things you could be doing."
“I have all the time in the world, remember?”
The elevator hummed to a stop.
“That joke is getting a little old,” she mumbled.
“Well I am old! So I get to make all the dumb jokes I want,” he harrumphed, as the door slipped open.
"It doesn't sound like a joke though..." Her head shook. “Mr. Trent? Do you remember how you said you wanted to teach me to fly?”
“Yes.”
“Did you really mean that you were going to teach me how to fly a spaceship?”
“Well... Maybe.”
Fluttershy sighed.
“Well, it’s just that when we first talked, it sounded like you were just going to teach me how to fly faster.”
“Still technically true.”
She trotted alongside him, her hooves squeaking softly on the Polyslick deck.
“Was it a trick?”
“Hmm?”
"Why did you really bring me here?"
‘Well, do you remember what I told you earlier?”
“Yes. You said that you would show me what I could become. And then you would ask me if that is what I wanted to be.”
“Mmmhmm.”
“Then why are we doing this?” She flew in front of him, face to face, eyes wide and imploring.
“Seeing the spaceplane?”
She nodded curtly.
Trent stopped, leaning against the glossy white bulkhead. He scratched his chin for a moment, as Fluttershy hovered patiently before him.
“Well, here’s a question. Do you know any ponies that work on a farm?”
“Oh, yes, as a matter of fact. One of my best friends runs her own farm.”
“Ahh, and how much farming would she be able to do without a plow to till the fields, or a wagon to harvest the crops?”
“Apples.”
“Eh?”
“Oh, um. She runs an apple farm. The largest apple orchard in Ponyville, actually.”
“Okay... So, um... What if she had to pick all the apples by hand, er, hoof. Ugh, this probably isn’t the best example.”
“It’s not a problem for her. She’s one of the strongest apple buckers in Ponyville!”
Trent’s hand slapped across his forehead, before sliding down to clamp over his mouth. His belly quivered as he struggled to hold back the staccato of explosive chortling.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Yes! It’s all fine,” he blurted out through a forcibly restrained smile. “Anyways, as I was saying...”
“And her brother Big Macintosh can buck enough apples in one day to fill a hundred barrels!”
Mr. Trent was in a state of distress. Both hands pressed over his mouth as he slid down the wall, and fell to one side. His body convulsed with chest spasms as he lay twitching against the blue and white speckled deck. To Fluttershy’s sudden horror, it appeared that he was choking.
On air.
“Oh! Oh no, Mr. Trent!”
She sprang into action, swatting his hands away from his face just as his mouth snapped open to gasp for breath. One surprisingly tactile hoof squished his nose shut as she planted her lips across his, and the canary yellow pegasus huffed with all the force her lungs could muster, forcing Trent’s chest to rise, and his eyes to bulge from their sockets.
“MMMMMMPPPHHH!” he said, as his limbs flailed in the body language dialect of thrashing gesticulation.
“Are you okay!” she gasped breathlessly.
He rolled to one side, panting through fits of laughter.
“Yes! Yes, I’m fine,” he wheezed several times before slapping his palm to the floor and letting the last of the giggling subside.
“What’s so funny?” she demanded.
“Oh, nothing. It’s just that this Big Macintosh fellow sounds like quite the ladies man... Er, stallion. Heh, quite the stallion indeed.”
“Ohh,” she said, nervously looking to one side. “Well, he is really nice. Very quiet, but nice.”
“Ahh. Too quiet?”
She shrugged slightly before returning to face Trent.
“Why are you doing this? Why are we here?”
He sat up with deliberation, leaning back against the smooth wall; trapped between the steel bulkhead and Fluttershy’s unwavering stare.
“A farmer can plant seeds, but he needs a plow to sow fields. He needs a tool.”
She took a step back, looking back down the corridor towards the elevator.
“You said I could help people. This isn’t going to do that.”
“The plow is what separates a flowerbox from a field. The farmer needs a tool to farm.”
She stamped her hoof, echoing sharply in the silent corridor. She turned back to glare at Trent, but he was already kneeling inches away from her, serious and sincere.
“You want to help others. I know. How many then? What kind of a difference do you want to make?”
“I don’t understand. Yes, I want to help, but...”
“Then you need a tool.”
“And the spaceship is the tool?” she nearly shouted, thrusting one hoof toward the far end of the corridor.
“Exactly.”
“Then what do you need me for?”
“Because a plow doesn’t till a field on its own. Just like spaceships don’t save people by themselves. People save people. But sometimes, they need the right tool for the job.”
“And that’s it? You want me to teach to fly a spaceship? That doesn’t make sense.”
“Not yet.”
Fluttershy sighed, sitting back on her haunches.
“You said... I would have the choice to continue, or to go home. Mr. Trent, I really appreciate everything you’ve done so far, but I don’t know that I want to continue this.”
“Mm... Still technically true.”
“What is?” she sighed weakly.
“Well, I did say that I would show you first, before you made that decision. Then perhaps you would know the answer. But as of right now, the question has not yet been asked.”
She looked toward the elevator, then back down the corridor.
“You just want me to see it, right?”
“Yes. I know that everything about this sounds very far-fetched, but I would appreciate your trust in my simple offer. I think you might find it rather interesting.”
“I do need to get home soon. It’s nearly dinner time for my pets. I know Angel, my little bunny, always expects dinner to be ready on time,“ she trailed off wistfully.
“Ahh. Well, we’re not far now. Would an extra five minutes be too much to ask?”
“No, it’s fine,” she sighed, stood, and turned toward the far end of the corridor. “Oh, Mr. Trent?”
“Yes?”
“Do you know what time it is?”
Trent’s fingertips twitched absentmindedly as he walked. He stopped suddenly, his face contorted into an incredulous scowl. He shook his head, and stared again at the empty space in front of his nose.
“Well, that’s weird,” he muttered; his train of thought racing down the tracks with the line of cars still parked at the station.
“Hmm?”
“Huh?”
“The time.”
Trent stopped again, turning around with a confused look.
“Oh? What about it?”
“Do you know what time it is?” she repeated, grating out each syllable.
Trent clapped his hands together gently, staring upwards. His body swayed in the manner of a doctor who was ready to announce that the operation had been a complete success, but wasn’t entirely sure which leg was meant to be amputated.
“Ahh... That. Well, you see, I don’t know exactly. The clock seems to be off.”
“The clock?” she looked around, seeing nothing but a web of right-angle conduit and polished brass boxes adorning the white enamel walls of the corridor.
“Ah, the ship’s clock. Radio, you know,” he waggled his fingers in the air.
“Oh, I see. Um, is it off by a few minutes? A few hours?”
“About seventy thousand years.”
* * *
Tap, tap, tap.
She gasped for breath. Air filled her lungs, and she relaxed with palpable relief. Step one on the self assessment checklist completed. She wiggled her body from her neck down to her toes. No problems there. Step two finished, on to step three.
After a cursory examination, she concluded that she was not on fire.
She checked her suit’s gauges. About half full. She initiated a software check on her radio. Diagnostics passed, reception active. She checked the ship’s propulsion control. No thrust. The gimbals sat motionless. The navigation console reported no translation, post frame change. Everything looked good.
On a minor positive note, she also reached her target.
She settled back with a deep sigh, looking up.
The waffle grate over the cockpit was open.
She jumped back, retreating by what few millimeters the restraint harness could afford. Within the dark confines of the cockpit, a gloved hand was slowly reaching toward her. Her fingers crept quickly across the belly of her suit to the leather holster strapped to her other arm.
The glove felt around in the dark, fingertips tapping at the metal collar of her suit. The hand opened, and pressed firmly over her faceplate.
A glowing greenish cross filled her vision, drawn with photo-luminescent paint on the palm of the glove. She sighed with relief, reaching up to grasp the probing hand.
It withdrew from the cockpit, and returned holding a thick wire wrapped in neon yellow electrical tape. She grasped the jack, and plugged it in; listening to the metal contacts clicking softly as it seated home. The headset strapped across her ears crackled to life.
“Good job, kiddo. Now tell me how my kidneys are functioning!”
Goddammit.
“Umm...” she started. “The... Um... The nephrons within the kidney contain the glomerular structure, which filters particulate from the afferent arteriole input side, which, um, passes to the Bowman’s capsule before transport by the proximal tubule. Umm...”
“Close enough. How are you feeling down there? Everything okay?”
“I think so.”
“Well, good to see that the ol’ noggin is still working,” the gloved hand patted her faceplate. “And that’s my official diagnosis.”
“Did I pass?”
“Oh yeah. Looked great. You came in a little fast, but not too fast. Good thing too, because I forgot to bring my spatula! Hah!”
“Ughh,” she groaned. “That joke is really getting old.”
“Well I am old! I can make all the dumb jokes I want! Anyways now, lets get you outta there. I bet your dad’s gonna be proud that his little girl wrecked her first spaceship. Haah! Not sure if he’s gonna be thrilled when he sees the new insurance premiums though.”
“Insurance what?”
“Tell ya when you’re older. Now, quick! How many thoracic vertebrae?”
“Twelve.”
“Uhm hum. Now, what would we do if one of those slipped? Number ten for example.”
“Lock the restraint harness, and decouple the scaffold from the post,” she recited from memory.
“Mmm, good, good. You can wiggle your toes, right? Nothing out of place?”
“I think I’m okay.”
“Course you are. God-given gift of indestructibility. Enjoy it while it lasts. Before you know it, you’ll be hunched over with hair growing out of places it shouldn’t, and making two trips to the bathroom for every cup of coffee!”
“Ughh! Gross!”
“Hey, that’s no way to talk about my ex wife! Haah!”
Within the vacuum of space, nobody can hear you smacking your helmet.
“Okay, freakishly tall apprentice of mine, few more questions. What’s the channel for a craft in distress?”
“Um... One thousand sixty four kiloHertz...”
“Nope.”
“Two hundred and eighty two...”
“Agh, never pay attention to anything that doesn’t involve physical trauma, do you? Oh well, you were kinda close. The two you mentioned are both search and rescue. Want me to give you a hint?”
“Okay”
“Ahem...” He cleared his throat, “You’re listening to One Twenty One point Five, FM! All craft disasters, all the time! ‘Oh god we’re goooing down! Ahhhhhh!!! Cabin pressure dropping, oh god oh god nooooo! Pssshhhhhhhh!’”
There was a short awkward silence.
“Um, Okaaay. I think I can remember that. But why did you try to sound all weird there?”
“What, you’ve never heard how a DJ talks on the radio? Jeez, kids these days...”
“What’s a DJ?”
“Aaaaghh! Stop it, stop it, stop it! You’re making me feel way older than I already am! Anyways, one more thing. Show me how you’d get out of there if the release was jammed. Use your wire knife, but don’t open it, capiche?”
She dutifully reached into her thigh pocket, pulling out a rounded rectangular handle with a ring attached to the end. Lightly, she brushed it across her right shoulder strap, and then across each strap running down the left side of her torso.
“Good job. Didn’t miss any. Now pop the release and shimmy your skinny little butt outta there. We’ve got people waiting on us.”
Before she could respond, the gloved hand wrapped around the audio cable, and yanked it from her helmet.
Peace and quiet, once again.
The release handle pointed left. Left for locked. She gave it a twist, pulled, and rotated it down until it was between her legs. Half a dozen nylon straps zipped away into the steel ribs of the articulated scaffold behind her. She ducked her head to clear the canopy opening, folding her six foot frame into a near fetal position as she pulled herself upright. She released the hook-snap umbilical connecting her suit to the craft, replacing it with the hose bundle from her support pack stowed in the side of the cockpit.
Straddling the lip of the craft was a man who’s rotundness was scarcely concealed by the stretched synth-fabric of his space suit. Nor could the thick impact-rated polycarb faceplate conceal the torrent of hyperactive inappropriateness radiating from his doughy grin.
He rapped his gloved knuckles on the side of his helmet, pointing with his other hand.
Hey dumb-dumb! Anyone home? Are you forgetting something there?
She grabbed the wire knife and shoved it back into her thigh pocket.
He stood with one boot hooked inside the rim of the cockpit, careful not to mar the pitch black mirrored foil that enveloped the craft. He reached down and snapped a tie-off line to her suit, before helping her the rest of the way out.
She patted the top of her helmet.
Thanks, Terry.
The craft had crumpled at the nose and starboard hardpoint pylon. It drifted slightly as she pushed away, tethered by a thick cable to a small breakaway anchor embedded within the wall of dark grainy rock. The asteroid bore pockmarked depressions from the impact, with the few slowest jagged pebbles still gently drifting nearby.
Soft sunlight cast sharp shadows across the pits and prominences of the asteroid. A line of spacesuited silhouettes stood on the sunward face, clapping their hands silently and cheering without a sound. She knew each of them, mostly teenagers from an earlier creche. Kids in suits casting shadows of giants.
Their eyes turned to Terry. He raised both hands with his fingers spread, as if grabbing an invisible box. His thumb hooked over his shoulder, as his other hand splayed three fingers sideways across his chest.
Allright twerps, you know the drill. Loot and scoot. Thirty minutes!
* * *
Fluttershy gasped in panic. Her head shook and her chest heaved, until the words finally escaped her throat.
“Seventy thousand years!”
Trent stood with his thumbs hooked in his pockets, tapping his foot in impatient contemplation.
“I know. It’s impossible.”
“That this ship could be that old?”
“I never said the ship was that old. I just said the clock was off. Hell, this class of ship is only about three years old. I have boots older than that!”
“Oh,” she relaxed slightly. “So it really would be impossible for the ship to be seventy thousand years old, then?”
“Never said that either. I just meant that it’s impossible for the clock to be off. That’s what’s got me stumped.”
“What?”
“Look, you know how clocks have a pendulum, right?”
“Well, yes.”
“And the smaller you make the pendulum, the faster it ticks, right?”
Fluttershy nodded.
“The ship’s clock uses a single atom of aluminum for a pendulum! It’s trapped in an electromagnetic bottle, and measured with an ultraviolet laser. It’s so accurate that it wouldn’t drift by a second in nearly four billion years! And not just that, but there’s five of them scattered around the ship, so they can all keep each other in check. And do you know what else? If one of those atoms spontaneously decays, the clock just inserts a new one. Do you know what happens when an aluminum atom decays?”
“No...” she gritted her teeth from the painfully pedantic translation.
“We don’t either! It should be stable until the universe eventually fizzles out. And if by some random chance that the clock uses up all its teeny tiny pendulums, or breaks in some other spectacularly miraculous manner, then the Autofab would just build a new one.”
She pressed one yellow hoof firmly to her forehead.
“Ohh, well that’s nice to know. Really great,” she winced as the uninvited party of bizarre thoughts rudely made themselves at home. “I’m sorry, I was just a little surprised when I thought you said that the ship was seventy thousand years old.”
“Didn’t say that either. It’s more like seventy thousand years young.”
“Whaaat?”
“I know, right? My species was just learning how to bang two rocks together around that time. Definitely not building starships.”
“Well, what does it mean then!”
“A detour,” Trent sighed. “I’d like to find out what’s going on.”
“Oh... Will that take more time?”
“Yes, but not much. There will be a lot of information to go through, but I just need to download it for now, so I can read it later.”
“Like checking out a book from a library? Is that what a download is?”
“Yep. You’re getting really good at this.”
A smile crept over her bashful face.
“Thank you.”
“Now we just need to take the tram to the bridge. Shouldn’t take very long.”
“Is that like an elevator that can move sideways?”
“Exactly!”
* * *
The singleship had been stripped to its aluminum spars. The Rocket Jocks had started first, securing the fuel lines and surgically removing the cryogenic reaction mass tanks. Zip guns and cutting wheels quietly eviscerated the crafts underbelly, unbolting what could be unbolted, and unwelding that which was welded. Meanwhile, the Sparkys gutted the cockpit and the sensor pods, carefully stockpiling their precious electronics. Two of the older kids, the Spectrum Spooks, had peeled the mirrored foil onto rollers, careful to preserve the swaths of midnight colored metal.
Terry floated at the end of the tether, arms crossed, judiciously observing the ant-like disassembly of the ship. He watched as they deployed a device that looked like an inside-out umbrella - a blackbody radiator capped with a half-inch polarization filter.
He gestured with one palm flat, and the other hand pointing straight up.
Out of plane.
They didn’t need to ask. The radiator sat at the end of an anchored stalk, pointed parallel to Solar North. A thick insulated cable ran to the thermocouple within the ship, dumping the craft’s pent-up heat from its reservoir of molten sodium into the blackbody radiator, shining an infrared pencil-beam away from watchful eyes.
Never can be too sure.
Tap tap tap tap. Twenty three minutes elapsed. She waved to Terry, holding up all five fingers, and lowering three. He tapped the top of his helmet in lieu of a nod, and repeated the gesture to the organized chaos of the teenage crowd.
Listen up twerps! Seven minutes! Hustle hustle hustle!
Terry glanced back to his apprentice. With deliberate exertion, she pressed her fingers together and tapped the faceplate of her helmet.
Hungry...
He patted the back of his helmet.
I know. I’m sorry.
She quietly returned the gesture, before turning back to watch the recovery operation.
The singleship was scarcely recognizable. A bare skeleton of the craft that once plied the coastline of the cosmos. The piecemeal plundering of parts had passed, and the looted remnant lay lashed against the face of the rock. Pneumatic anchors as long as a man’s leg were buried to the hilt within the primordial planetoid, pulling taut against the webbing of steel rope threaded through the ship’s frame; ensnaring their Lilliputian prize.
Downspinning the reaction wheels would normally take hours. They had five minutes. There was no emergency stop for the dynamo of invisible inertia that the craft perched upon, as stopping suddenly would constitute an emergency of its own.
A single cable snaked away from the craft’s gutted innards, floating just above the dark gritty chondrite, running past the junkyard bundle next to the utility craft some distance away. Beyond the artificial barricade, eight suited figures knelt - shoulder to shoulder, belly to backpack. The cable plugged into an adaptor. The adaptor plugged into a control tablet. The control tablet plugged into one pair of keyed gloves. One pinkie finger extended, and tapped at empty space.
The craft lurched violently within the steel webbing, pulling hard at the unyielding restraints. The competing gyroscopic forces played against each other, forcing the singleship to writhe in lockstep with their torque fueled tango. It spun nearly one quarter turn despite the strained wire rope, carving ruts in the soft rock as a stricken animal might make its last anguished claw marks against the jaws of a spring loaded trap.
After some time, four minutes and thirty-nine seconds to be exact, the craft gave one final shudder and lay still. Eight suited figures turned to look at the doctor and his apprentice.
Radio silence was still in effect, but the two thumbs up from the bulky gloves said everything. Terry clasped his hands together, then slapped one hand across his chest with two fingers extended.
Good job twerps! Haven’t seen a chop job that fast since I made the mistake of stopping for coffee off the Jersey Turnpike. Err.. wait. Have any of you even seen a car before? Pfeh. Kids these days. Wouldn’t last a minute in I-95 traffic. Never mind. Swell job anyhow. Don’t get too comfy though. Rendezvous in twenty minutes!
Seven of the kids made their way to release the singleship from its ad-hoc anchorage. One kicked off from the utility craft, and dove in the other direction, coming to a stop with a short puff from his suits hypergolic thrusters.
She couldn’t make out the face behind the one-way permeable mesh. The six foot spaceman reached over and slapped it’s glove over her faceplate, showing off a glowing arrow with a spiral wrapped around it; a force diagram depicting an electromagnetic mass driver.
Her hand patted the back of his glove, before waving dismissively.
Well if it isn’t Jake O’Dwyer. What’s the matter Jake, can’t find any other girls to pick on out here?
He raised both arms and shook his hands, laughing heartily at her response. He tapped two fingers over his wrist, and hooked his thumb over his shoulder. Then one hand curled into a thumbs up, while the other hand swung out and punched her in the arm.
Ach! Well our blade fulla cheek, inn’it? Or whatever. Aight, anyways, nice one scutchin` up into this ol rock. Bleedin header of a bang up job ta is. Give us a bell sometime an maybe we’ll run a tear. Later, ya gobshite wee yank!
Before he turned to leave, she slapped her hand against her thigh, and pointed at his leg. His suit was mottled with sewn patches and SuperTape, all showing the telltale signs of age. However, the patch on his right leg was still bright and clean.
He patted his leg, and tapped the top of his helmet.
Nice one, no joke. Feelin right fine that is now. Ey, no free snogs outta the deal tho!
She smiled behind her darkened faceplate, watching as he bounded away in a flying leap towards the utility craft. He snapped his suit hook onto the seat of the ‘crotch rocket’, deftly straddling it while twirling his arm overhead.
Oy! Takeoff, takeoff! Skive off ya ha’shilling knackers!
A puff from the forward thrusters sent craft and rider rearing up, like a cavalry soldier from an earlier time. A short blast from the wide rocket bell sent him flying towards Solar North, spraying nuggets of loose rock across the face of the asteroid, and trailing a coil of wire rope.
Terry leaned over and plugged a cable into her helmet.
“You know, when I was your age, we didn’t ‘play doctor’ that literally. Haah!”
She elbowed him.
“Not a bad job though. Not bad for a rookie.”
“Thanks,” she conceded.
“Just make sure you don’t get too close to me for the next week.”
“Huh? Why?”
“Oh, well you know. I can’t take the chance of getting infected.”
“What?”
“COOTIES! Haaah haaah!”
She flicked the cable from her headset as Terry’s laughter devolved into a series of guttural snorts and gasps. She rapped her fist on the side of her helmet and threw a backhanded gesture as she kicked away.
Peace and quiet, once again.
There was a short bright flash, followed by a low hiss.
She turned to look. Terry had gone as still as a statue, raising one hand and cupping the other against the side of his helmet. The other kids heard it too, glancing among each other to see if anyone would fess up to accidentally transmitting.
The static in her ears slowly resolved into something more organic, a faint voice drowned out by the whistling rush of air. A whisper. An agonized plea.
“...help.”
Her eyes raced up the beanstalk of wire rope. It seemed to stretch off into infinity, as the crotch rocket had become an indistinguishable dot within the few short minutes.
There was a short bright flash from the end of the wire. The hissing stopped.
A rough shove sent her barrelling toward the rest of the group, gliding within fingertips reach over the porous gritty rock. She turned back to look, moments after colliding into the outstretched arms of the others. Terry tapped the side of his helmet and fanned his glove at his neck. Then both arms folded over the top of his head.
Radio silence! Radio silence! We’re under attack!
* * *
The tram ride lasted less than a minute. The most terrible and intense set of adrenaline drenched consecutive seconds that Fluttershy could ever remember.
“Fluttershy?”
Her heart raced and her chest heaved. Falling from Cloudsdale as a filly had been one defining bookmark in the tome of atavistic terrors that occupied the library of her memories. This wasn’t like that. This was worse. This was like being propelled straight into the ground with the aid of a three mile long slingshot. The acceleration had gripped every fiber of her body, leaving her sanity hanging on for dear life.
“Fluttershy...”
So much power! Even the roaring furnace and hissing boiler of a steam locomotive could not hold a candle to the raw torrent of force that she just felt. The simple interior of the modest tram car did not even begin to hint at the violent wellspring of energy on tap just beneath the fuzzy red carpet. It was like being pitched towards the horizon with the snap of an invisible giant’s hand, yet with the careful precision and gentle reserve of a father rocking a foal to sleep.
“We’re here.”
She shivered, eyes blinking in swift sharp snaps. Trent stood at the threshold, one foot propped against the edge of the persistently protesting door.
“Ooohh... O.. Okay.”
“You can come out now.”
“Okay.”
“You need to let go of the handrail first.”
“Okay...” she squeaked, as she gingerly unwrapped her foreleg from the polished stainless steel pole.
“Now do the same thing with your other three legs.”
She gulped. With slow deliberation, she peeled the rest of her limbs from the reassuring anchorage.
“You’re doing very well,” Trent deadpanned.
She gingerly lifted her haunches from the floor, and scooted back from the pole. Her outstretched wings and swishing pink tail slapped against Trent as she darted through the door. Fine fluffy feathers flapped furtively as she fought to fold them flat against her flanks; feelings of fight or flight forcing the frightened filly to flutter frantically.
“I’m sorry if that scared you. I didn’t really think about that.”
Her wings flapped erratically and her legs wobbled like jelly, but her hooves stayed firmly on the deck.
“Oh, it’s...” her words softly huffed through the hint of a smile. “It’s okay. It is really.”
“What’s going on with your wings?”
“Umm, well... Sometimes when I get frightened, my wings will snap closed all by themselves, and stay there,” she said bashfully.
The canary yellow feathers were spread open like a fan, their tips pointed to the ceiling. An embarrassed smile crossed her face, as she tried to fold them neatly against her sides.
“Are you still frightened?”
She gave a halfhearted nod, peeking out behind a waterfall of pink mane.
“Just a little.”
“Are you.. excited?”
The wings sprang back into the air of their own accord.
“Maybe a little,” she squeaked.
Trent gave a bemused sigh, facing the open end of the corridor. They exited the narrow terminus, stepping into a wide funnel-shaped vestibule.
He stopped, turning slowly. Behind him, the vestibule branched off into several other corridors, each with their own terminal stations.
“Mr. Trent? What does that say?” she pointed one hoof at a rectangular placard on the wall.
“Hmm? Frame three hundred and seventy two.”
“Oh... That’s interesting,” she paused. “It doesn’t look like the other words.”
“That’s because it’s a number.”
She cocked her head at the brass plate. It bore a series of pits and pyramids in three separate lines.
“Is that how you write numbers?”
“It’s a way of writing numbers.”
“Oh..” she furrowed her brow.
“See these?” he tapped at the brass pyramids along the top row. “Two hundred and fifty six, sixty four, thirty two, sixteen, and four. Those add up to three hundred and seventy two. That’s how many cross frames are between us and the bow of the ship.”
Fluttershy grimaced, feigning comprehension.
“It’s like coordinates on a map,” Trent offered.
“Ohh,” she looked from side to side. “I guess that’s kind of like a map. But why are there three lines if a map only has two directions?”
“Back and forth, top to bottom, and side to side,” he pointed at each row in turn.
“That makes a little more sense,” she spoke softly. Her hoof tapped at the tile floor, nervously pondering how many more rooms and corridors lay hidden beneath.
“Well, it’s usually like that now. We used to have a saying that a ship at rest is very long, and a ship in motion is very tall. Before we started laying artificial gravity decking everywhere, that is. Come on, I can tell you more about it later.”
As she followed Trent, her eyes were drawn to the deck. A mosaic of tile shards, arranged in the shape of a crashing wave, lay still beneath a thick layer of clear polished plastic. It stretched across the center of the room, a violent crescendo of white foam upon a thrusting juggernaut of blue ocean. Chaos contained within a frozen snapshot, a vast circle cut into an unbroken slab of black granite. Flickering fluorescent light reflected from the crystalline rock, twinkling as a tapestry of stars on a pitch black night.
The teardrop shaped room came together towards the end, both walls curving as a slice of an hourglass turned sideways. Two unlit windows lined either side; impassive sentinels to the narrow aperture before them.
“Fluttershy.”
She jolted at the sudden break in the silence.
“Oh... Yes?”
“Wait here.”
She nodded, hooves squeaking on the tile mosaic as she came to a stop.
Trent stepped forward to the glass, tapping his fingertips at empty air. He stood still for a short time, as if regarding what lay behind the darkened window.
“There, that’s finished. Fluttershy, can you stand next to me now? Right here?” he pointed to the deck.
“Okay,” she trotted forward, propping herself up on the tips of her hooves to peer into the window.
“Now stay still.”
She looked. Where she had expected to see her own reflection staring back, there was nothing. A chill crept down her spine, as she nervously faced the towering slab. The light from the room reflected faintly from the smooth obsidian surface, yet appeared as devoid and uninviting as the mouth of a cave.
“Just a few seconds...”
Her legs trembled and her eyelids refused to close. She stared into the void, and the void stared back. A reflection of herself, as yet unmade.
“There we go, all done. Sorry about the wait.”
She tore her gaze away, retreating by several timid steps. A quick glance over her shoulder showed the other monolithic black mirror quietly querying her quivering form. She turned swiftly, facing toward the narrow exit, eyes averted from either window. Her back stiffened and she raised her head, resolutely suppressing the heavy metronomic pounding within her chest.
A small recess opened in the wall, and Trent pulled out a pair of lanyards, white plastic cards dangling from each.
“Here you go. Please wear this while we’re inside, and make sure you stay close to me at all times.”
The card bore a stunningly detailed picture of her wide eyed face, with a smaller picture of Trent’s slightly bored grinning countenance inset on the corner. Red blocky letters ran along the bottom, with a small pulsing green light just beneath the skin of the plastic.
“Oh. Trent? What does that say?”
“It says Escort Required. And do you see my picture there? That means I’m your escort.”
He chuckled quietly as he placed the lanyard over her neck.
“But please, think of me as your guide, your conciergerie, and your friend.”
“Um, okay,” she blushed softly. “Why do I need an escort?”
“Well, think of it like this. If you had to go to your nation’s capital... Um. The one on the mountainside with all of the tall pointy towers.”
“Canterlot?”
“Yes, that one. And you had to go and meet with the Princess...”
“Celestia.”
“Yes. Okay, I knew that one. Anyways, if you had to go up there and meet with her for some reason, like say...”
“Being called upon to save Equestria from some terrible, awful, nightmare-given-flesh that intends to terrorize and enslave all of ponykind?”
“Suuurrre. Let’s go with that. So what happens next?”
“Well, we would meet with Princess Celestia. Or maybe Princess Luna. It’s been a little different since she’s been back,” she contemplated.
“Before that. How do you get into the castle itself?”
“Through the front doors.”
“Right,” Trent rubbed his forehead. “And who opens those doors?”
“The Royal Guard.”
Trent’s eyes rolled hard enough to rebound his gaze from the ceiling to the floor.
“And what do they say when you ask them to open the doors?”
“Oh, umm. Usually it’s ‘Right this way, Miss Fluttershy’,” she gruffed in a baritone imitation.
“Uhh. Don’t they ever say something like ‘Halt!’ or ‘Identify yourself’?”
“Well, yes.”
“Okay then. So...”
“But then they usually apologize later. After Princess Celestia talks to them.”
Trent slowly sat down, kicking his legs out straight, and flopping his back against the cool polished granite. Both hands pressed over his face as he shook his head from side to side, groaning in resignation against Fluttershy’s impeccable logic.
“This probably isn’t the best example.”
“What do you mean?”
“Okay. So the Princesses both know you well enough that you’re allowed to waltz right in, anytime you feel like it, right?”
She nodded.
“Well, the ship doesn’t know you. Not yet anyways. And if this ship were a country, then this would be the gate to the palace,” he pointed toward the narrow entrance.
“But.. I don’t see a gate.”
“It doesn’t need one.”
“Oh.. What if someone tried to walk through there?”
“Well, it would alert the ship’s security forces, who would meet up with the individual of interest, and politely ask them to return to this area, so they can be properly registered and assigned escort.”
“Umm. What would happen if they tried to make their way in by force?”
“Then the ship would deploy countermeasures, and the intruder would be neutralized.”
Trent sat up, the slightest hint of a smirk crossing his lips. He stood, brushing himself off as he rose, slowly turning to face the terrified pink and yellow pony.
“Oh, my. Fluttershy, I am so terribly sorry. I just don’t know what I was thinking.”
Two large round tepid eyes gazed forward, locked in a thousand yard stare amidst the imagined booming staccato of heavy autocannon fire. Her jaw hung open, gasping for gulps of air through her tightly clenched throat. One hoof patted expectantly across her chest, feeling only unblemished silky fur in place of ragged gaping wounds.
“My apologies again. Perhaps we should try to save those sort of questions for later. Much later, perhaps?”
Her head jerked up and down in the semblance of a nod, eyes darting between the many well hidden recesses and grooves within the walls and ceiling.
“You don’t need to worry. The ship trusts me, and therefore it trusts you. It won’t hurt you...” He paused for a moment, pointing at the flashing green dot on his badge. “But just to be on the safe side, you might want to stay close to me, otherwise this little dot will turn yellow, and then red. And the ship might not like that.”
Shivering, she slowly lifted the card with her hoof. As Trent walked through the opening, she saw the tiny light begin to flash with a faint tinge of amber.
“Right this way, Miss Fluttershy...”
Trent’s footsteps grew softer as he passed through the opening. The green dot began to flash with a sickly yellow tone.
“Please proceed, Miss Fluttershy.”
Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and she inhaled deeply. One hoof swung forward, followed by another, tapping against the tile mosaic and stone slab. Her wings pressed tightly against her sides as she trotted swiftly through the aperture.
“Ahh, there you are,” Trent grinned. “Next stop, ahhh.. eenie meenie miney moe.. combat information center, here we go.”
He paused.
"Did you hear something a few seconds ago by chance?"
Her head shook with the trace of a nod, not entirely sure of her answer.
"Hmm. Oh well. This way, please."
“Welcome back, Miss Fluttershy.”
Trent stopped again, twisting his head around, puzzled at the strange noise. After a moment, he shrugged, and opened the door with a flick of his fingertips.
* * *
The audio jack clicked into the port on her helmet. The other end snaked away into the homemade junction box - a coffee can with switches drilled into the side and dozens of cables belching out of the open end. Nine spacesuited figures crouched around the ad hoc communication hub, staring with fearful faces behind featureless faceplates.
“Set your watch. Five minute countdown. Now!”
She twisted the brass bezel, and pressed a lever on the side of the watch - one made for manipulation by bulky pressure gloves. The mechanism whirled inside, coming to a stop with one sharp clack. She turned it again slowly, five clicks. TAP, tap, tap.
“What happened!”
“What happened to Jake?”
“What are we going to do?”
“SHUT UP!” Terry boomed.
They did. It was the best plan so far.
“I think they used a laser,” Terry continued. “That means it’s probably another ship out there. Too much power draw for a small craft. And in case it’s not obvious, they’re close enough to engage.”
“What about our ship? They’re going to be here in fifteen, right?”
“What about us? We’re sitting ducks here, if they shoot some back scratchers around this rock!”
“Once again, SHUT UP! Now they probably don’t know we’re here, or they would’ve zapped us on the way in. I think the asteroid was blocking their field of view. Count your blessings there. Now, they probably don’t know about our ship either, otherwise they would’ve stayed quiet and gone for the bigger kill.”
Despite their space suits, Terry’s last words seemed to knock the breath out of everyone.
“We have to warn them!”
“How do you know they don’t know we’re here?”
“Because there aren’t any frag cannisters coming over the horizon,” one kid suggested.
“Yet...”
“HEY!” Terry shouted. “Do you know what Jake would say right about now if he could hear you? It’d probably be something like ‘Oy! shut yer cake holes and get yer bleedin arses a movin!’ He’s still out there, and we gotta go get him!”
“They killed Jake,” came one shaky voice.
“They shot Jake. There’s a difference,” Terry spoke, slow and measured. “Now first things first. You two, go grab all the mirror foil that we scavenged from the craft, and get me the twenty millimetre wire guide. You, give me your pogo stick. I’m going to wrap myself up in that mirror foil and get Jake from the top of the beanstalk!”
A chorus of “No!” came from the suited figures.
“SHUT UP!” Terry boomed. His finger jutted out to his assistant. “Time?”
“Four minutes, thirty...”
“Hear that? That’s how long we’ve got! That’s how long Jake has.”
“You can’t go!”
“I don’t have time for this!”
“We don’t want you to get shot too! We need you down here.”
“They can’t see me if I’m wrapped up in the foil.”
“It won’t fit! The pieces aren’t big enough.”
“Huh?”
“Your ass is too big.”
One wide glass eye levelled a blank baleful gaze at the bearer of bad news. A stare that suggested a different answer was needed.
“Uhh. I mean your mass is too big.”
“That too,” came another voice.
“Oh for fucks sake! Sorry twerps, but we don’t have a choice in the matter. I’m not going to sit here and piss away our only chance at saving Jake.”
“No! One of us has to go.”
“Ehh, no. No. I’m not putting any one of you in that position either. You could get killed.”
“If you’re not down here, we could all get killed!”
Terry sighed. “Jake is going to need a doctor. We don’t have time to reel him back down here. Hold on a second..”
He stood and waved his arms at the others returning from the scrap pile in the universally understood sign language of ‘Hurry the fuck up!’
“What about warning the others? We have to get a message to them!”
“I’ll think about that in a minute. One thing at a time, please!”
“We can use the thermal radiator beam. Take off the filter, and point it sunward. The craft still has some heat in the reservoir, so we can do it in Morse code, without flashing in their line of sight.”
“Fine. Good idea. Get on it.”
“I don’t know Morse code.”
“Oh. Right. Hold on a second,” Terry sighed. He pulled the plug from his headset, turned around, and bellowed a string of profanity at the top of his lungs, clenching his fists and doubling over from the sheer volume of vitriolic verbal exertion.
Unfortunately, in space, no one can hear you scream.
Terry turned around, snapping the plug back into the headset jack. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped.
“WHAT IN THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!”
The hydrazine fuelled pogo stick was strapped to the wire guide with several wraps of Supertape, its rollers latched to the beanstalk of steel rope. One skinny girl in a tall slender spacesuit was standing on the footrests, her legs wrapped in a cocoon of null spectrum mirror foil.
“She weighs the least, so she can get there the fastest. Once she goes up, we can send the warning message back to our ship.”
“No!”
“And then we’re going to bolt the engines back onto the singleship and get it ready to fly.”
“Jesus H Fuck... Wait, what? Why? Fly us out on that thing?”
“It’s a diversion. After she gets Jake stabilized, we’ll launch the singleship. That should keep their attention while we reel them back down. Hopefully the other ship will try to shoot at it, and give away their position.”
“Right about the same time our ship gets here. If they start shooting, we can light em up.”
“Who’s goddamn idea was this?”
The children went silent. The girl on the wire rope turned back to look at Terry.
“Ohh.. No.”
“You said he needs a doctor,” she spoke just above a whisper.
“God. No... Don’t do this,” his voice cracked.
“He needs help.”
“Please. You don’t have to go. Nobody is making you go. Let me do it. I can help him.”
She pulled the watch from her wrist, and dropped it in the weightless void between them.
“Three minutes, fifteen seconds. Warn the others.”
He numbly reached for the brass wristwatch, slipping it over his wrist in sullen surrender of his protests.
“Terry! We need your help with the Morse code.”
“It’s dot dash, dash dash... Agh, just get the radiator setup and I’ll be there in a minute, okay? Just go, now!”
The two suited figures stared silently at each other across the wire rope.
“Look. Um. If the wire is cut, the forward rollers on the guide should make contact and fire the explosive clamps on the back. Just don’t go faster than twenty five meters per second.”
“I know.”
“And tune to the search and rescue channels. Uh...”
“Ten sixty four kilo and two eighty two meg. I know.”
“Right. Don’t transmit until I break radio silence, got it? Um... Just stay safe up there. I don’t know what’s going to happen in the next ten minutes. Fire the pogo stick at full throttle for about five seconds, but don’t burn after you get over the starward horizon of this rock.”
She nodded.
“And make sure that you... Um. Ah... Just...”
“Terry, can I borrow your marker?”
“Ah... Yeah. Sure.”
She took the photo-luminescent marker from Terry, and scribbled a symbol on her palm. Her glove curled into a loose fist, clutching the glowing symbol away from prying eyes.
“Hey, I guess you’ve earned it. Just be safe. I don’t want to lose you too. Er... Shit. You know what I mean.”
“I know.”
“Terry! Move outta the way!” one kid shouted urgently.
Terry placed his palm over her faceplate, and plucked the jack from her headset. Her glove pressed the back of his hand for a moment, and they separated. Two kids wrapped the mirror foil wrapped around her upper body several times until only a narrow slit was open across her helmet.
He kicked backwards and leaned forwards, scraping the toes of his boots across the cold dark rock, pulled down by the perceptibly pitiful gravity of the asteroid.
His fists curled into two thumbs-up, and he rapped his knuckles together.
Good luck, skinny-butt.
The rest of the suited figures backed away, save for one standing directly before her. He whirled his arm in a small circle over his head, and whipped his arm out straight. The nearly invisible cocoon of foil, darker than the starless voids of space, shot upwards on a hazy jet of superheated gas.
The children watched her ascent until the flame winked out and she disappeared from sight. The semicircle of suited figures looked back down to see one angry ogre of a spaceman barrelling toward them.
“Get that rope anchored! You have about three minutes before she hits the brake rings. You two! I want walking wires strung out for fifty meters in four directions! And someone tell me WHO THE HELL TOLD HER TO GO UP THERE?”
A nervous silence gripped them for several seconds. One voice finally broke through.
“It was her idea.”
“Bull.. SHIT!”
“It was, Terry!” The rest of the kids nodded in agreement. “Kind of your idea too. You trained her to do this sort of thing.”
“I taught her medicine. Not crazy goddamn stupid! Gah! No, I think she gets that from her idiot father.”
The was a nervous silence, cut short by a more pressing matter.
“Um... When is he getting here?”
Terry reset the watch, and twisted the bezel.
“About ten minutes. Now get to work! Anchor that rope, setup walking wires, and get that piece of ship ready to fly!”
“Terry, look behind you.”
He turned. Two of the kids had plugged the thermal radiator back into the singleship’s heat reservoir. One of them was holding onto the inverted umbrella with a piece of foil covering the aperture, and the other was waving his arm at Terry with urgency.
Hurry up and get over here, you fat bastard!
Terry sighed.
“Twerps! Back to work! Rendezvous in ten minutes! The day’s not over yet!"
He yanked the cord from his headset, and dove toward the singleship.
* * *
“Here we are. Now this should only take a minute,” Trent spoke as he strode into the room of short ceilings and stout steel beams.
“Oh? What is this place?”
“Forward Dorsal CIC. Err.. Combat Information Center. It’s a command center for the whole ship. There’s about half a dozen rooms like this scattered around, actually.”
Fluttershy crept forward, shaking off the dull throbbing in her head from the attempted magical translation. Dim blue lights cast their dusky pallid glow from the far corners of the room, faintly illuminating the many rows of squat square steel terminals. A shaft of white light bathed the raised dais near the center, the foundation for a plain padded chair atop a polished metal pipe.
“You said this was like the palace, right? For the whole ship?”
“More or less.”
“Then... Is that the throne?”
She stared with reverence at the aluminum chair with blocky foam cushions. The slick sheen of the shiny blue synthetic seat reflected the bright overhead lighting, a dazzling artifact within the center of the dim metal cave.
“Sort of...”
She circled it slowly, subtly bowing her head as she went.
“Is that where the Prince, or the Princess would sit?”
“Eh?” Trent looked up from the glass console. He stepped closer to the wide eyed yellow pegasus, straining to hear her excited whispering over the low rhythmic thrum of the command center.
“Or maybe... Is this where the King would sit?”
“Not really. Not a king, anyways.”
Fluttershy’s eyes widened as far as they could within the physical bounds of her intrinsically adorable countenance. She stooped to the floor, looking up at the gleaming chair.
“An Emperor?” she shivered softly.
Trent rolled his eyes and let out a long forceful sigh through the corner of his mouth.
“No. Just a Captain. Maybe even an Admiral. Anyways, there are a lot of fancy chairs in this ship, and some of them are for pretty important people. But this one is just a glorified drivers seat.”
He spun on one foot and flopped backwards into the seat hard enough to set it spinning.
“See?” he twirled with one leg hanging out. “Just a chair.”
“Oh..” she blushed slightly. “I’m sorry. You must think I’m awfully silly, getting all worked up over something like that. I mean, like you said, it’s just a chair.”
“Well, it’s not just any chair. This one commands the whole ship.”
The magical meaning of the words hit Fluttershy like a near miss from a meteorite, a mere hint of unfathomable power hidden behind Trent’s casual description.
“Mr. Trent?”
“Yes?”
“What does the ship do?”
“Well... Lots of things, really. But if you want a short answer, it’s like a home away from home.”
Her thoughts turned back to the grassy meadows and vibrant pastel colors of Ponyville. The singsong warble of the birds near her cottage, her menagerie of animals, her close circle of friends.
She blinked hard and inhaled softly, opening her eyes again to face the calculating stare from the man of many things, sitting atop the throne of light, entombed within the fortress of steel.
“Are you far away from your home?” she asked.
“Mm...” he leaned back. “You have one question, and I have two answers.”
“Never mind.” She sighed, softly shaking her head.
“No, I’ll tell you. I think... I think that I am very far from home. But I do not know yet, whether my home is the one that I left, or the one that I will someday reach.”
They stared at each other for a moment.
“Do you want to sit in the chair?” he offered.
Fluttershy gasped slightly.
“Oh, me? Really? Are you sure... Um...” She looked around fretfully. “Is that okay? With the ship, I mean?”
“Sure, why not? After all, it’s ‘bring your cute cuddly alien companion to work’ day.”
“Really?”
“No.”
An exasperated hiss escaped through her suddenly clenched smile.
“But there’s a first time for everything!” Trent hopped out of the chair and hooked his hands under Fluttershy’s forelegs, hoisting the startled yellow pegasus into the air, and twirling her around. Her legs squeezed together around her long pink tail, as the cold plastic seat cover pressed against her back and flank.
She blinked again, resigning herself to the fact that she would never cease to be surprised by Trent’s stupid impulses.
Her rear hooves dangled over the edge of the seat. She looked around around the command center with a heady feeling from the high vantage point. Before her was a blank wall, striped with bare girders, flanked on both sides by rows of consoles with their own smaller chairs. She leaned back slightly, imagining for a moment the ranks of officers and enlisted manning their stations, looking up to her. Awaiting her orders. Running the ship to her calculated whim.
The excitement faded, and the oppressive weight of reality settled atop her. It was getting late back at home, and here she was, sitting in a dark metal room in a dumb metal chair.
“Oh. Thank you. Um.. Mr. Trent? Are we ready to go soon?”
Trent’s hand patted her shoulder.
“Yes. Soon. But I was wondering though, if you wanted to see my home. The one I came from.”
“What? Where? It’s not here, is it?” she whispered, looking around in confusion.
“I’ll show you.”
His fingertips reached out, and the lights dimmed. There was a soft crackling buzz from beneath the round white platform, and a shimmering translucent veil rose around them, as if tracing the smooth curve of an invisible sphere.
And just like that, the curved veil flashed into a pitch black sheen. The round dias faded from bright white to a muted grey, and the command center disappeared from sight.
She gasped, stiffening her back and folding her wings tightly to her sides. Trent squeezed her shoulder again, and she relaxed slightly.
Before them, dim pinpricks of light hung on the black ephemeral tapestry. Most were faintly perceptible, but two shone brighter than the others.
“There,” he pointed at a single speck of light. “That’s us. That’s home.”
“That? But, what is it?”
“Do you remember how the stars look at night?
“Oh, yes. Um, are those stars?” she pointed one hoof at the cluster of tiny lights.
“Yes.”
“I see,” she stared inquisitively for a moment, her brow furrowing. “But, I remember there being a lot more of them than this. Hundreds more, in fact.”
“There are.”
“They’re so tiny, though. How do you live on one?”
“They look tiny, because they’re very far away. And no, we don’t live on the stars themselves.”
“Oh... Where do you live then?”
“On the planets that orbit the stars.”
Her hoof shot to her forehead. The concept of an orbit did not make itself known as an academic explanation or a mathematical formula. Rather, as an instinctive ingrained feeling.
“Ow...”
“Sorry.”
“Um... How far away are they? The stars, I mean.”
He waved his hand at the screen. A thin green circle encompassed the bright tiny dot. Strange letters and numbers scrolled next to it.
“Oh, about one hundred and fifteen million light years.”
The translation spell managed to imply a sense of ‘really far away’, and then simply gave up.
“That’s about a thousand times far away as our galaxy is wide.”
Both hooves cradled her temples.
“Eeep!”
“And that’s not just one star. Each of those pinpricks is a whole galaxy. Do you want to know how many stars are in our galaxy?”
She quivered, eyes fixed on the tiny dot. Two different answers screamed within her head to Trent’s simple question. But when she opened her mouth, nothing came out.
“Let’s count them!”
The tiny green circle grew to the size of a hula hoop. Another circle took its place around the cluster of galaxies. It exploded in size, followed by another, and another, and another. Hundreds appeared and expanded, giving the impression of racing down a tunnel at speeds that would leave even the fastest pegasus at a standstill. With each passing circle, a tiny counter incremented. She could not read the numbers, but she watched as it quickly sped into the range of three digits.
It was then that she noticed something. The tiny dots of light were beginning to grow. It was slow at first, as the pinholes of light became small shimmering blurry blobs. The one at the center began to grow into an oval shape.
And suddenly that tiny bright oval, no bigger than a grain of rice, exploded in size as it rushed towards her like the business end of a speeding locomotive. A galaxy of light, stretching across her entire field of view, looming silently within one wide green circle, coming to an abrupt stop just inches from her face.
Fluttershy could not scream, but she tried with all her might.
“There we go!” Trent exclaimed, pointing at the blinding white disc. “Ahh, lets see. One, two, three, ninety nine... Three hundred billion!”
She gripped the armrests surprisingly well without the benefit of fingers. Her chest heaved and her belly quivered, two shocked wide eyes reflecting the many twinkling lights of the vast cosmic engine.
“They do look so small, don’t they?” Trent mused.
She tried to respond, but her voice had shifted into the octave of dog whistles and electronic toothbrushes.
“It’s strange, really. You grow up with the stars over your head. All your life, staring up in awe and fear and envy. And then one day, you look down to find the stars at your feet. And here you are, standing upon the shoulders of giants, crawling from the teeming cradle of your world into the empty throne of the cosmos.”
Along one curving arm of glowing gas, a smaller green circle appeared. The galaxy exploded in all directions as the view raced towards one tiny glowing speck, zooming in until it was alone among the pitch black void. Fluttershy shivered, still reeling from the depth of scale.
“From that vantage point, everything seemed so much smaller. We left home, and became part of a much larger world. There was no going back. The sense of belonging among the stars was exhilarating. Intoxicating. We tamed gravity and outran light. We shattered the barriers of time and distance to please our whim. We became the means for the universe to know itself, and we wrought the tools to shape it as we saw fit. We wielded and witnessed power that made the wrath of any imagined gods seem insignificant by comparison.”
The tiny dot burned distantly, yet did not rush towards her. Trent’s fingertip gestured to it, and a list of indecipherable runes appeared alongside. He tapped at one.
The screen went black, and then the whole world flashed white.
Her eyes snapped shut, but she could still see the afterimage of the hellish glow. An immense orange and yellow sphere hung before her, boiling and blazing with appalling energy. Wispy strands of gas erupted from the roiling violent surface, writhing along invisible magnetic lines as a snake roasting on a spit.
“Look at it, Fluttershy. Don’t be afraid.”
Her body retreated as far back as the seat would allow, but her eyelids crept open.
“This is a star. There are many like it, but this one is ours. Every light you can see in the sky. Every speck, every pinprick, every fuzzy glowing cloud... Even your own sun, warm and brilliant in the bright blue sky. All are stars, from the meek to the magnificent. Even the tiniest stars are still terrible behemoths in their own right, but those very largest of them are the stuff of awe, beauty, and nightmarish reverence.”
The glowing orb shrank to the size of a softball, ensnared within a rounded green rectangle, still burning brightly within it’s shrunken cage. It was joined by several other animated icons: stars, planets, a galaxy, and one looming mass of rounded steel and angular protrusions. Trent gestured at the display, and the icons rearranged themselves. The first icon glowed, and the starship exploded into focus. A floating city, armored and armed, aquiline and angular. A patient peaceful predator within the vast void.
“But as we looked beyond our domain, we saw the universe looking back. That which we commanded, was but a speck within a cold uncaring cosmos. For as long as we imagined ourselves to last, the universe would last longer still. And for all that we could hold, we were surrounded by that which we could never truly reach.”
The dreadnought shrunk down to an invisible speck, dwarfed by the planet that appeared next to it. The cloudy marble of blue oceans, greenish land, sandy steppe, and ivory ice caps, hovered before her momentarily, then shrinking down as the ship had done. A new planet took it’s place, smooth swirling bands of brown and reddish clouds. A sphere of hazy gas that beckoned travellers through its siren call, to peer into its well of hopeless gravity.
“We were proud of how far we had come. Sitting upon the throne we had built, wearing the crown of hubris, we felt beckoned to explore the cosmos. Entitled to it. To take it and bend it to our will. But that is a journey that knows no end. To imagine ourselves as the lords of all creation is to enter a race where you must go as fast as you can, just to remain still. Lest the total sum of all your works is someday lost, spread by the solar winds and evaporated by the steady cadence of time. A race that nobody can win.”
The gas giant shrunk down to the size of a tiny marble next to the blazing sun. It too was replaced by another star that made the first seem as insignificant as a candle to a sunrise. Fluttershy gulped, whetting her throat and filling her lungs. The view zoomed out once again, and the bright blue behemoth disappeared as a tiny mote of dust within a spiral arm of the galactic disc.
“I am Ozymandias. King of Kings. Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair! So sayeth the inscription on the crumbled statue buried beneath centuries of sand. It is the oldest and most seductive of all religions. A belief as old as our species. The foolish confidence that our legacy may outlast time itself.
The galaxy sped away into nothingness, a tiny pinprick of light on a black backdrop.
“It’s a great big universe out there, no matter how high we sit and how far we can see. No matter how big we may think we are, we are still tiny. But, we are still a part of the entire cosmos. Small, yes. But, insignificant? No.”
The ship drifted back into view, enormous against the backdrop of distant galaxies.
“And here we sit. A universe of atoms, an atom within the universe.”
Trent sighed contentedly. He withdrew his arm carefully through Fluttershy’s outstretched upright wings, patting her shoulder as he went.
“You’re a part of a great big world, Fluttershy. The biggest one there is.”
She turned to look at him, her face straining to show every emotion she felt at once. She had not the words for all that she wanted to say, save for one dense meaningful phrase.
“Thank you,” her lips parted with a soft whisper.
“My pleasure. Now, no need to get up. I’ll just be a minute with the computer terminal. You can keep looking if you want.” He brushed past her outstretched feathers, stepping off the dais and disappearing through the protesting buzz of the plasma projection screen.
Her hoof rose from the armrest, shaking slightly as she gestured toward the tiny green box. It glowed as the tip of her hoof passed through it, and the galaxy sprang back to the forefront of her view. From the corner of her eye, she saw Trent through the translucent veil, scowling at the grey metal terminal.
“Whaddya mean I need to change my password? Again already? Pfeh..” Trent glared at the terminal. “Oh come on. Three special characters? Ughh.”
She sat back and stared at the great glowing disc, a brilliant white pinwheel with faint tinges of blue. It was as terrifying as it was magnificent. Striated arms trailing outwards from the blazing ring at the core. Her heart still thumped loudly, and her lips were frozen in a permanent state of amazement, but she did not avert her eyes.
It was beautiful.
“Warning. Database integrity failure QS-00899. Multi-coherence state exists for database grid.system.events. This should never happen. Please do not contact your Systems Administrator. Depot level maintenance required for following event: QS-00899.”
Fluttershy turned her head to the side. The veil turned transparent as she locked eyes with Trent’s exasperated expression.
“Well that’s what it says!” he pointed an accusing finger at the terminal.
“Oh..” she nodded at the cryptic message, pretended to understand.
“Okay, lets see here. Don’t care about fixing it right now - just want to pull some data. Um... Oh, great. Completely unreadable at the table level. Oh hell. The metadata has multiple coherent quantum states too? What the hell is this? A rejected Star Trek script? Gah! Oh, wait. Here we go. Reconstruct all table data by unique state. Think that’s what we want. Uhh... Ohh... My.”
Trent gasped. He turned to look at Fluttershy, eyes wide and quivering.
“That is a preposterous amount of data,” he said, sincerely shocked.
She nodded again. Of all the cryptic thoughts flying through her head, she recognized some of them as words.
“It says it will take several hours to complete the operation. I know I said I was planning to just download it and look at it later, but it won’t all fit!” he pointed at the base of his skull.
“Oh...”
“But don’t worry! I’ve got an idea. I just need something bigger to put it all on. Something like... Ah! There!”
He jumped up, pointing at a small square tablet sitting on an empty table. He reached for it with his hand outstretched, curling his fingers in anticipation.
The small grey monolith sat there, unperturbed.
“Oh, what? Come on!”
He thrust his hand towards the table again, quivering angrily as his palm remained empty. Finally his arm fell to his side, and he huffed loudly, stomping towards the table some ten feet away.
“Use the force, Luke. Great idea. Pfff...”
He snatched the grey tablet and thrust it into the air before him. He let go, and the tablet fell swiftly to the floor with a sharp bang, cartwheeling several feet away on its rounded corners.
Trent’s mouth fell open, utterly flabbergasted. He stooped down to pick it up, regarding it curiously. His fingers jabbed at the blank metallic surface to no avail.
“Hmm... Must be completely dead,” he muttered.
He held it in one hand, as the other pinched two fingers together around an invisible cable. He brought his pursed fingers towards the edge of the tablet, and looked expectantly.
The tablet did nothing.
“Oh we’re gonna do this the hard way, are we? Okay, lets see how you like a taste of this!”
The tablet was unceremoniously jammed into his back pocket.
“That’s better,” he grinned, pressing the tablet against his posterior as a hen would hatch an egg. “Near-field power transmission. My ass can jumpstart anything!”
A dim green dot blinked through the metallic veneer. He pursed his fingers together and pressed them again to the side of the tablet. The green dot flared brightly, and raced across one edge of the device. The metallic sheen disappeared, and he dropped the tablet next to the computer console. It hung motionless in the air, a thin slab of glowing glass.
“Okay, so like I was saying. I just need something to put the data on. This will do.”
He grabbed the glass slab by the corners and pulled, stretching it from the size of a paperback to a picture frame.
“Now the database is like a library. We just want to check out a book. However, for the book that we want, there appears to be two copies with the same title, but their contents are completely different. Actually, all the books are like that. Two different copies. We’ll need to read both to figure out what’s really going on. Oh, and I should also mention, that someone’s taken all the pages out of all the books, and shredded them into thin narrow strips. So we’ll need to wait for the computer to put those all back together first and sort everything out. Also the library is about the size of all the libraries in Equestria. Except maybe a few million or a few billion times bigger. Make sense?”
She nodded again. Applejack was the Element of Honesty.
“Ahh, good. I can give you the rundown in a bit more detail. The process for re-assembling the quantum multi-coherence is already taking place on the ship’s computer. We can encapsulate that within an exportable virtual machine instance, and transfer it to this tablet here. That includes the data it’s working on a well, which is several compressed petabytes. Not a problem for memristor state caching arrays with a deoxyribonucleic acid synthetic base octet storage, though,” he tapped at the edge of the glass tablet.
They waited. Fluttershy turned back to look at the image of the galaxy again, two hooves pressed firmly against her aching forehead. It hung still, but as she watched, she could just see it slightly spinning.
“There we go! All done. Told you it would only be a few minutes.”
He squeezed the tablet down until it was the size of a matchbox, and dropped it in his pocket.
“Ready to go?”
She nodded gently, slipping out of the seat, and stepping forward through the screen. It prickled her fur as she walked through it, and disappeared as she stepped off the round dais.
Trent pulled the tablet out of his pocket, fiddling with the screen as he walked back to the door.
“Oh, this is good. The clock is off on this thing too.”
“What time is it set to?”
Trent turned and knelt, holding the device on two upturned palms. His eyes grew wide as he whispered in hushed reverence.
“The beginning of time itself.”
Fluttershy gasped, regarding the timeless artifact.
A grin broke through Trent’s serious facade.
“January first, nineteen-seventy. The dawn of the computer age,” he held back a snickering laugh.
Fluttershy rolled her eyes, pushing past Trent. She stopped behind him, as he giggled at his own joke.
“Um, Mr. Trent?”
“Oh, yes?”
“What does that say?” she gestured to a scrawling sentence written across the face of the door.
“Hmm? Ohh...”
He stopped and stared.
“Umm.”
“Well?”
Across the door, written neatly in with thick hasty strokes, a single sentence meant for a single person.
God damn you, Trent.
“Uhh...” he looked down at Fluttershy, his face stretching into a shaky smile.
“It says: Last one out, turn off the lights!”
She sighed. He shivered.
“You...” she growled.
“What?”
“YOU! Ooohh! You... You’re like the king of a thousand dumb jokes!” she erupted.
Trent’s fingers flicked at the door, sending it racing into the recess in the wall.
“And the death of a million punchlines,” he muttered.
The sun lay waning, plump and shimmery in the pale blue sky. A milky white orb that cast crepuscular rays through the roiling cloud bank that soared across the western horizon.
The cool light warmed Twilight’s face, but could not match the inferno within her head. Where one might stare at the sun with a squint, Twilight simply scowled ahead.
She turned with a snort, stamping back to her bedroom. Books lay strewn in discarded heaps, arranged as sandbars within a flowing stream. Her mind raced as her hooves paced. The sum of written knowledge within her trust placed had failed to answer the questions she faced.
“Come on, Twilight. Think.”
She did, ever so painfully.
The sun was a star. Equestria orbited the sun. Gravity caused less massive objects to orbit around more massive objects.
Or so she was told, earlier that morning.
She tapped her hoof as she contemplated Trent’s matter-of-factly stated principles. It seemed so natural coming from him. No trace of smug condescension, or haughty declaration forged from fervent faith. He didn’t even believe in what he said. He didn’t have to! He simply knew it to be true beyond any reasonable shadow of a doubt. Unmistakable unshakable confidence.
Just as she knew that Princess Celestia brought the light of the sun to Equestria, and Luna raised the veil of night’s starlit tapestry.
A chill ran down the length of her spine. One innocuous little thought that sent shudders down to the tips of her hooves.
She considered Trent’s explanations again. They made sense, even with her admittedly tenuous understanding. Had it been any other subject, she might accept it on face value, with the same trust she extended to the many authoritative reams of knowledge penned within many books of many libraries. Silent sanctuaries of immutable wisdom.
Yet, it tore at her. Knowledge was truth. Truth was inviolate. It was comfort and stability within a tumultuous existence. Contradictions were heresy.
The sun was a star. Stars were the same size as the sun, if not larger. Equestria orbited around the sun.
Sometimes, the most audacious thing you can do in life, is to question it.
Her thoughts turned briefly to Celestia. A mentor like none other. She respected her. She challenged her to excel. She trusted her, and Twilight drove herself to deserve it.
Equestria orbited the sun. Celestia raised the sun every morning.
Question everything, but believe in yourself.
It was treachery. Two-timing. Treason. And probably a whole lot of other words that began with the letter ‘T’. Her horn glowed as she absentmindedly pulled another book from the shelf.
She shook her head. The tome titled ‘Thesaurus’ tumbled to the trestled floor.
Celestia raised the sun every morning. Equestria orbited the sun.
A low whisper escaped through the hairline crack between her lips.
“Prove it.”
* * *
Into the black she arose. The dark chalky asteroid disappeared from her narrow band of vision, and she released her thumb from the throttle. The thrust from the pogo stick ceased, and she held tight to the handles as the stick began to pull down and away. The guide wheels raced along the braid of wire rope, sending an angry buzz through the palms of her clenched gloves. Several wraps of SuperTape held her boots fast against the stubby metal rods that served as footrests. She was losing speed slowly, but she could almost feel her ankles pressing into the collar of her boots, as if she was hanging upside down.
Three minutes, or thereabout. Counting down from five. Couldn’t be counted on, though. Longest recorded survival was shy of four minutes. And even then...
She shuddered.
Don’t hold your breath. Scream until you pass out. That’s the only hope you’ve got. Hope that someone’s there for you. Hope they get there in time. No good if your blood boils from the outgassing, and every vein ruptures in your body.
She squeezed her glove around the glowing symbol she drew. She hoped she would be there in time.
Through the narrow gap in the pitch black foil, she could see out. She watched fervently for movement, searching for a single speck among the backdrop of a spiral galaxy. A hunter was out there, stalking between stars as a lion would watch patiently behind stalks of amber grass.
The radio hissed softly, crackling with the faint afterglow from the dawn of creation. She could be seen if she wasn’t careful. The clockwork hum of a turret motor would be her death knell. Then the whistle. The screaming radio whistle of a hot slug trailing metallic plasma as it crossed the distance. The ship could be kilometers away. It would be all over in less than a second.
At this range, even a gas rifle would be point blank. You couldn’t hear those. Just a tiny flash. Easy to miss. Not for them.
She strained her eyes, peering through the gap in the foil that masked her telltale infrared signature.
A thin metal collar shot through the forward rollers of the wire guide, squeezing the brake calipers with a ratcheting click. The pogo stick jerked downwards in her hands, and she could almost feel her feet slipping from her oversized boots.
*Click* *Click* *Click*
The cable pulled taut behind her, whipping from side to side in a meandering metronomic fishtail. She gripped the pogo stick with all the force she could exert with her bony arms, crushing the bulky gloves around the handles with toothpick fingers.
It was starting to get rather warm inside the suit. Nowhere for the heat to go. Only two minutes, and it was starting to feel like an oven. Her gloved fingers could still move freely, but the joints in the suit were starting to swell from the pressure.
With a sickening lurch, the wire guide stopped. She could feel the cable behind her undulate and sway, as if standing atop the tallest rung of the narrowest ladder. The suit didn’t give her the mobility to look up, but she raised one arm tentatively, and felt something solid. It was the towing bar from the crotch rocket. Raising her other arm, she felt her way along the tail of the vehicle, reaching further towards where Jake would be sitting.
A jagged gap swallowed her probing glove. She pushed herself away to see.
The craft had been eviscerated, ruptured from the inside out where the lance of light speared through the pressurized reaction mass tanks. She unhooked herself from the pogo stick and pulled herself up smoothly, careful not to push away from the craft.
Jake was nowhere to be seen. Nearly blind, she reached forward and tugged on a white nylon strap concealed within the floating seaweed growth of shredded flex hose, ruptured brass pipe, and stripped copper wiring.
She tugged, and the strap went taut.
There was a soft steady hiss from the radio.
No time to think. The wire knife was trapped in her leg pocket, but the scalpel found it’s way into her hand readily. She pulled the nylon ribbon, and slashed through it with a flick of her wrist, pushing away from the craft with one panicked push from her long gangly legs.
The craft pushed back. For a split second, she could feel a rapid staccato of taps through the tips of her toes, and then the craft tumbled away from beneath her. She pulled firmly on the strap, turning her back as she climbed. Jake’s spacesuit nestled between her arms, now concealed by the foil cocoon wrapped around her suit.
Through the corner of her eye, she could see the craft gaining momentum, lurching away as a hailstorm of invisible slugs silently tore through it.
She shuddered silently, not daring to move a muscle. Her voice refused to betray her as well, even if she was the sole audience for one final shrill shriek.
It was nearly four minutes. The watch didn’t remind her. The severed hose dangling from Jake’s suit did.
As quickly as she could risk moving, she tore a hole through the inky black foil wrapped around her belly. She squeezed the release on the hook snap, and detached the life giving umbilical from her suit. She wedged her pinkie finger between the pair of hoses, holding it within reach as she deftly removed the coupling from the other suit, slapping hers in place with a quick fluid motion.
The suit inflated quickly, revealing a perforated line across the belly. Droplets of blood leaked through in some places, fizzing as the gas boiled away from the dull red plasma. She held her breath as she worked, shutting down any portion of her mind not responsible for guiding her hand. A small silvery tube was procured from her belly pocket, which sprayed a clear sticky sealant across the holes. A roll of inside-out tape stuck firmly to the side of his torso, and she pulled it quickly across the breach.
It was getting very hot inside the suit. Her faceplate began to fog up, cutting her off what narrow band of vision she had left. It was starting to get hazy, not just from the oppressively hot and humid air, but within her mind too. Slowly starved for oxygen. The tank strapped to her leg was their oasis in the void. She pulled the hook snap release and plugged it into her suit once more, feeling one last respite of cool air.
The hose returned to Jake’s suit. Her arms wrapped around his chest, and she squeezed as hard as she could, compressing his chest several times. She held him within her arms as the foggy dreamlike state returned. With one last motion, she reached around his helmet, and pressed her hand against the faceplate.
A blocky medical crossbar set within a squiggly drawn heart. It glowed in the palm of her glove.
It was getting too hot. Her lungs were burning from the lack of oxygen, but she was past caring. Pain slipped away beneath the encroaching comfort of sleep.
No! She couldn’t sleep. He needed to wake up. She needed to stay awake... Awake. The day would be over soon. Just need to stay awake. Her vision blurred.
She could still see everything, yet her eyelids had long since fluttered closed.
Please wake up.
* * *
It was a boring day in Ponyville.
It was an exciting afternoon for Applebloom.
The pen laid still for a moment, a slick black instrument that seemed out of place atop the cheery cherry red tabletop. It was a good pen, much better than those favored for the routine and mundane acts of jotting notes or scribbling shapes onto the backs of cocktail napkins.
It rolled smoothly beneath a small yellow hoof. A slow and methodical rhythm that passed the time as one’s limb would lazily dip in a fast moving stream, drawing ripples with the absence of effort. Each measured movement as the silent swing of a pendulum. An impatient ticking in the background of calm pensive contemplation.
This particular pen’s days of scribbling and jotting were long past. For some time, the pen had served as a keepsake rather than a writing utensil. Carried as a memento of many brief momentous moments, where the flourish of its tip would write history. A time when words shaped worlds, and a signature spoke for civilizations.
It rolled, and stopped. The hoof holding it against the table paused in anticipation.
The history of the pen would remain secret beneath the unassuming ebony finish. Were it to be properly appraised, one might expect a bidding war from collectors willing to hurl their fortunes with the same zeal that warring nations would hurl thermonuclear bombs, consumed by the glinting hope of a pyrrhic victory.
The red haired filly bit firmly on the pen, holding it between her tongue and cheek as the glistening black tip pressed tentatively against the coarse white paper. It nestled comfortably between the crowns of her molars, as the glossy synthetic hardwood gave with the firm pliancy of ballistic rubber.
The pen was not a toy. It was a gift. A tool brimming with potential and purpose.
Ideas swirled within her head. A roaring furnace of imagination that stoked the forge of creativity. Every idle thought built relentlessly upon a towering edifice of ideas. A tower that pierced the constant constraint of the pale blue sky, soaring higher than any pegasus, and seeing farther than any telescope. A perch of dizzying heights that revealed the full majesty of unseen lands, unparalleled in scope and scale.
Applebloom slashed the first sentence into the sheet of paper.
The pen once shaped the course of worlds.
Now it would build them from the ground up.
* * *
“Almost done, I guess,” Trent sighed.
They walked through the narrow aperture, back into the vestibule. Fluttershy trailed behind, not speaking a word.
“Look... I’m sorry about this. This probably isn’t my best idea, not by a long shot. We’ll be on our way out soon, unless you’d like to go right now.”
“It’s okay,” she whispered softly. “I mean, I really do appreciate what you’ve shown me. We can still see the ship. I don’t mind.”
“Okay,” he conceded.
The vestibule widened, revealing the circular stone mosaic set into the floor. A breaking wave driven by typhoon force winds blotted out the distant dry land. Just above the wave, a tiny gleaming gray glass shard soared above the battered harbor. A symbol for the ship itself, as a still bridge over turbulent waters.
Trent stared at the end of the vestibule. The far wall branched off into several corridors, each departing in their own direction. It somehow felt familiar, and at the same time, unsettling.
A strange noise crackled to life from recessed speakers. A whisper that seemed to reverberate from every compartment within the empty hull.
“What?” Fluttershy asked.
“What? Oh hey, did you hear that too?”
Fluttershy nodded slowly, still looking up at the ceiling.
“Sounded like gibberish to me. Ship must be having some problems. Have to look into that later, when there’s time...” Trent groaned.
The speakers spoke once again.
“Everything will be all right, Miss Flutter...”
“There,” Trent announced with a snap of his fingers. “Speakers muted.”
“Ohh. Okay,” she gulped nervously.
He sighed.
“Sure you want to see the ship?”
Her eyes shifted from side to side, unsure which answer to give.
“Well, you did say you wanted me to see it.”
“I know, I know. Just that, I’m not sure if it’s still such a good idea. I mean, teaching you to fly it as well. Even if that meant that you could help some.. people,” his voice trailed off.
“Um... Mr. Trent?”
“Yes?”
“You did say that a bad decision was better than no decision, right?”
He smiled weakly.
“Never can be sure, until you’ve tried it.”
“I think..” she paused for a moment. “That everything will be all right.”
Trent shuddered, ever so slightly.
“Which way do we go?” she gestured one hoof toward the array of passages.
He paused for a moment, before the flicker of a smile crossed his face.
“Oh? What do you mean by that? There’s only one way we can go."
“Where?”
“Forward!” he grinned.
“Oh,” the corners of her lips curled upward. “Um.. Mr. Trent? That joke wasn’t nearly as terrible as the other ones.”
“Pff. Tough crowd.”
“Lead the way, Mr. Trent. If that’s okay with you, I mean.”
There were many passages leading to many tram stations. One would take them to the ship, and one would take them home. A simple decision with any number of outcomes.
Don’t look back.
Trent shivered.
“Second passage on the right. That will take us to bay Four Bravo.”
“Okay,” she trotted across the tile mosaic.
“Ah, Fluttershy? I’m sorry if the tram frightened you earlier. We can take a detour and walk the rest of the way, if you’d rather.”
“Oh. No. I think it will be fine,” she said nervously.
He shrugged, and waved his fingertips in the air. The tram doors opened, and she darted inside. She was already seated when he entered, her hooves hooked over the back of the seat, and her wingtips nearly brushed the roof of the cabin.
An unmistakable smile radiated through the nervous facade. One that Trent returned as he sat down in the seat behind from her, their eyes locked together for a brief tender moment.
“Fluttershy?”
“Yes?”
“You’re facing the wrong way.”
“What?”
The tram departed with the speed of a bullet, and a high pitched squeal.
Trams do not usually squeal.
* * *
It was a slow day in Ponyville.
It couldn’t be fast enough for Scootaloo.
The wind whipped through her fuschia mane as the grass receded behind each sharp stamp of her hooves. Her short wings buzzed as they bit into the air, pushing herself with every erg of energy she could muster.
Tap tap tap.
The brass watch rode high on her foreleg, nearly up to her shoulder. It threw off her balance when it had been fastened near her hoof.
Tap tap tap.
Her sight blurred as she forced herself forward, speeding past her own persistence of vision. A small hill was fast approaching, followed by a dip that curved down into a wide open meadow.
Time it just right...
TAP.
She leapt into the afternoon sky. Her wings spread further, slowing their rhythm but pushing harder with each swoop. The ground fell away as she drove onwards and upwards with exhilarated determination.
Tap tap tap.
Scootaloo’s wings were undeveloped for a pegasus of her age. Not to say they were small or stunted, because that would be a very insensitive thing to say to a nervous young filly. Even if it was true. Undeveloped was the preferred choice of words, as most doctors would agree. It pointed out the obvious, while offering some meager measure of hope that the wings might someday develop normally, while retaining plausible deniability in the case that they most likely would not.
Tap tap tap.
It was a difficult subject to broach. Pegasi were born to fly, much like giraffes were born to reach the leaves from the high branches of tall trees. Not to say that a giraffe was born with a long neck to reach those leaves, as that’s not quite how nature works. Rather, the giraffes that could not reach the tall branches simply ceased being giraffes after repeated and sustained bouts of malnourishment.
Nature is so fascinating.
Fortunately for short giraffes, people with glasses, and pegasi with underdeveloped wings, there was little pressure for selection on these traits. The same could certainly not be said for their ancestors, whereby natural selection honed such features to a needle-like point. A sharpening of the species paid through the whittled sacrifices of the many undeveloped individuals that ended up on the wrong side of the cut.
Tap tap tap.
Pegasi of yore were a fierce and proud race. Warriors and poets, one and the same. They wore their emotions on their shoulders, and their personalities were often as fiery as the brilliant colors of their manes.
While nearly all animals are subject to the “Four F’s”, that genetically hardcoded programming of fight and flight, feeding and.. well.. fucking, pegasi bore the notable distinction of taking ‘flight’ a bit too literally.
They had asked for it, after all.
If one were to pick a specimen to personify the valiant spirit of the pegasi, you would be hard pressed to find one more fitting than Athon. A thoroughbred brute with a heart of gold and a vocabulary that could tarnish steel. Her coat was a deep cobalt blue, a luscious hue, as if stolen from the very depths of dawn. Her mane and tail bore the brilliant fury of a sunrise, a sight oft seen streaking across the morning sky, as night was routed before the break of day.
She stood nearly shoulder to shoulder with Princess Luna, and could match her bellowing timbre with ease. Yet where a Princess was the very model of calm reserve, Athon remained proudly bereft of this concept.
Patron saint of awesomeness, if such a word existed in her day. If not, she would be the one to invent it. There was little doubt to her physical prowess, though it remains in question as to whether the word ‘athlete’ was named after Athon, or if it were the other way around.
Tap tap tap.
Scootaloo may be a far cry from Athon physically, but if the Iron Mare herself happened to be watching from beyond the veil on that particular day, seeing that tiny orange pegasus putting forth every effort to defy the towering edifice of low expectations that had been built up over her entire life; brick by brick, every condescendingly hopeful prognosis, every sympathetic shake of the head, every eschewed pick for the hoofball team; she would have bared her teeth and grinned.
There was more to being a pegasus than just having wings. There was a spirit to it. A spirit of moving forward. Charging forth into the unknown. Treating every challenge as a juicy morsel to appease an insatiable hunger. To define predator and prey with the same blind distinction as ‘me’ and ‘everything else’.
This particular sense of spirit was not well remembered by the pegasi of today - some particularly more than others. The doldrums of peace and harmony afflicting Equestria had left that sense to atrophy over the ticking centuries.
Tap tap tap.
Athon was a rather notable pegasus, alas one lost to history. Few remained to recall her exploits, but for those few, they are remembered vividly. She was a champion to the royal court, long before the first stones of Canterlot Castle were set to mortar. A confidante to the Princesses themselves, and ambassador to the kingdoms of Dragons and Gryphons in the days when such alliances were raw and tenuous.
While it is unknown whether she bore a foal to carry on her genetic jackpot, she was certainly responsible for birthing numerous stories and legends. Yet, even the most outrageous embellishments of these tales often suffered from an imagination that was far too modest. As they say, truth is often stranger than fiction.
She had never slowed down to consider the placid pace of family life, and spent many years living outside of the loosely drawn borders of Ponykind. Indeed, she had drawn many of these borders in the first place, along with the maps to keep track of them. However, if one were to place a wager, it would be safe to bet that one or more descendents of Athon lived on within modern day Equestria.
Athon was a mare who took her “four F’s” very seriously.
Tap tap tap.
Her renown was not limited to the Royal Court, nor even the surrounding nations. Her importance extended far beyond any distant horizon, or any line drawn on a map. She bore an Element of Equestria. One of six.
The Element of Sacrifice.
While there are few who remember Athon, and even fewer that remember her personal brand of vitriolic vibrance for squeezing the most out of every moment of every day, there is just one that remembers her final minutes. Her final words. Her last blood choked whisper.
“A pillar of light strikes the East, and moves to consume us!”
Few words. She had made them count.
Tap tap tap.
Despite Scootaloo’s best efforts, her flight was looking more like a parabolic trajectory. She strained and struggled, but the apex was behind her, and the ground was coming to meet her. It was a fight that she would not win, but one she would not concede.
The nature of a pegasus was not simply to fight. Anypony could play that game. Any pony that was certain of victory, would play to win.
Cowards.
It took a special sort of derangement to fight against hopeless odds. An honor of acquired taste. One did not simply wrestle a full grown dragon, lash a sinking ship to an enemy vessel, or challenge a Type III galactic civilization, and then scream in defiance as claws pinned your chest to a cavern wall, or as your ship sank beneath your boots, or as planets burned under the onslaught of an interstellar armada; “I have not yet begun to fight!”
Tap tap tap.
In a roundabout way, Athon was the inventor of penmanship. Not as a champion of succinct legibility, but rather that her infrequent illiterate illegible drunken scrawlings left such a blighted besmirchment upon the heart of wordcrafting that entire generations of scribes and schoolteachers were united in their cries of ‘Never again!’
Yet, she did leave one lasting written legacy. A short and lucid treatise of her reflections on a life of adventure and turmoil. One clear message hidden amidst the charcoal chicken-scratching that occupied the careers of a small legion of historians and graphologists to decipher.
“The measure of a mare (or a stallion (and I do not mean *that* kind of measure (though I shall admit freely to receiving the measure of a great many))) lies not upon such tally of bygone victories, but rather the hunger for challenge (and stallions) and resolve to carry on through defeat. Those who play to win shall never prevail against those who play to lose.”
Scootaloo was playing to lose.
Yet it was not gravity that Scootaloo fought, despite all appearances to the contrary. She had challenged a far more insidious beast. One that drove the engines of the cosmos. One that laid eternal siege to the bounds of mortal existence. One which ground away the traces of kingdoms and empires with inexorable impassive aplomb. A vulture that patiently awaited the demise of the stars themselves. A beast that eternally laughed with shrill mindless prejudice as it delivered the one rule of its game; that one must run as fast as they can to simply stay in place.
She was fighting time. And she was determined to prevail.
She could hear it.
Tap tap tap.
The brass watch ticked against her foreleg. The heartbeat of the invisible demon that spanned every measure of the universe.
Tears streamed from her eyes and her wings burned from exertion. The ground was approaching quickly, and she raised her hooves to forestall the inevitable.
Her wings were noticeably undeveloped. In fact, they would certainly stay that way if she never learned to flap them properly. Buzzing along like an overgrown hummingbird does not properly stimulate the full range of muscles needed for flying, and she would certainly not be flying if she never flapped her wings properly. And why would she? The official prognosis was always to wait for her wings to develop.
Waiting. Indecision. Inaction. The demon laughed.
Ha ha ha.
Tap tap tap.
Scootaloo landed fast, the tips of her hooves tearing through the soft grass as she skidded to a gallop. She slowed to a trot, and finally stopped, panting for breath. Her heart pounded with a tempo that outpaced the methodical ticking of the brass watch by three to one.
Her flight was finished, but she was not. A manic grin spread across her sweat drenched face as she craned her neck around to look at the glass faceplate. Thirty-one seconds! She had stayed aloft for thirty-one seconds!
This was not a record that most pegasi her age would be particularly proud of. Yet, she was.
It was four seconds longer than the last time.
For one brief moment, time was given pause. A respectful nod to a worthy opponent. This little orange pegasus wielded one of the few weapons that could pierce its Achilles heel.
Impatience.
A small tremor ran through the ground, a vibration in the very firmament of bedrock that could be felt from Ponyville all the way to the outskirts of Canterlot. It briefly captured the attention of those who felt the tremble through their hooves, as a moment of mild interest in an otherwise ordinary day. Such trifling events could be readily explained by recent theories of geology, whereupon tectonic activity was actually caused by great slabs of underlying rock grinding against each other, powered by the millennia long nocturnal stirring of great and terrible elder leviathans entombed many score of miles beneath the upthrust rise of mountains and plateaus. It certainly was not caused by the long dead spirit of a long forgotten mythical pegasus stomping her hooves in exhilaration as she whooped and cheered for those few and far between who let their actions speak for their convictions.
Scootaloo bit the lever on the side of the brass watch, and the gears whirled inside, resetting the countdown. She twisted the bezel by five clicks. Four to cool down, and one to fly like her life depended upon it.
Five minutes.
TAP, tap, tap, tap.
* * *
TAP, tap, tap, tap.
Five minutes.
The parabolic radiator faced the distant sun. A glowing marble that grappled all within its reach. Bodies of gas, rock, and flesh swung round in their eternal ballet, guided by gravity’s indiscriminate precision.
The polarizing cap floated against the face of the rock, falling in the slowest of motions. In it’s place, a sheet of foil that absorbed everything yet emitted nothing, save for frequencies that could not be easily perceived.
A hole was torn in the center of the gossamer metallic sheet. A hole covered by one large glove, belonging to one even larger person.
“Pelorus manned. Chain locker tapped for thermal dump. Negative sixty and sitting pretty.”
“Good. Standby. I want you to bring me that floating fat man.”
“Hah. Load called at one-four-eight-zero kilos. That’s Terry plus the singleship, and the kids are a rounding error.”
There was a loud snorting symphony of laughter over the intercom, echoing from many different compartments at once.
“Okay. Very good. Frame offset two-two dot three meps, bearing one-eight-zero, relevant ten minutes.”
“Shite! Bleedin arseholes. Ya could’na just said about fifty miles inna hour. Or is ye too busy playin pirates up there? Swabbin each ya other’s pretty little poopdecks?”
“Never knew you were so fond of the English system, O’Dwyer.”
“Oh feck off!”
“No love for the NATO phonetic standard these days. Damn shame.”
“Think they’re still using that?”
“Eh, probably.”
“No, I mean, do you think NATO still exists down there?”
There was a pause. A weary collective sigh.
“Don’t think that really matters much anymore.”
“Okay, okay, kill the chatter. Day will be over soon. Just a pickup and a frame change. Naught seven degrees off axial. Next hop is about seventy-six hours.”
“Hey!”
“...is for horses.”
“Line discipline on the net, please.”
“Bridge, Comms. EM return on forward element.”
“Whoa.. okay. Um.. Comms, Bridge. What sort...”
“Bridge! This is Dorsal lookout.”
“Dorsal, stand by. Comms, Bridge. Report.”
“Weak signal in the S-band. Peak at two dot four-four-three-seven. No sideband data. I’m guessing it’s voice. Terry’s group is using channel eight, right?”
“Ahh... Confirmed, channel eight. Could you hear what they said?”
“Negative. Signal’s too weak. Only lasted a few seconds. Someone might’ve keyed their mic on accident.”
“Roger that. We’re still about twelve miles out. Can you calculate the driving power from isotropic falloff? Make sure the range matches up.”
“Guessing about ten to fifteen milliwatts from the source. And, um.. twelve miles out. Yeah, looks about right.”
“Bridge! Dorsal! Flash spotted!”
“Dorsal, Bridge. When you’re giving a report, you need to tell me properly. Like, IR return, bearing such and such. I’m assuming that’s what you’re seeing, right?”
“It’s IR and visual! I mean, it was.”
“Right... Now, where exactly did you see it.”
“About three arc degrees above the asteroid.”
“Dorsal, that’s the rendezvous point. You’re looking at the tail end of a crotch rocket.”
“Um.. Bridge, I don’t think so.”
The mute button flickered red with a quick jab from Jones’s finger.
“Someone needs to relieve that kid...”
“Bridge, Dorsal. There were two flashes. IR return was...”
“Och.. I’m bettin thas me boy showin off for the lassies. I’ll be havin a talk with ‘im, believe you me.”
Jones tapped the mute button.
“Understood. Thanks O’Dwyer.”
“Bridge, Dorsal..”
“Dorsal, standby! All hands, can we get any cateyes up to Dorsal and verify what he’s seeing?”
There was a momentary lull on the bridge, save for the soft static hiss of the ventilation.
“I’m on the way, Jones. Gimme a minute to get up there. Still in my rack with the blackout goggles on.”
“Load Toad here. I’ll take Hobgoblin up to Dorsal.”
“What.. and sacrifice your precious beauty sleep, mon ami?”
“C’est bien. J’ai besoin de regarder le RCB, bientot.”
“A watched kettle that never boils.”
“Ha ha, oui.”
“Okay. Dorsal, bridge. Report on IR return.”
“Nothing hotter than a spacesuit. I don’t see any exhaust plume.”
“Dorsal, I want you to check the calibration indicator. Has it popped up?”
“No.”
“Is the scanner set to ‘static’ or ‘pan and scan’?”
“Static.”
“Hmm. Okay. Go to pan and scan. Widen the FOV until you’ve got it trained on target.”
“Bridge, the second flash was really bright, but it’s gone now. I’ve got no visual, and just a weak IR return at the rendezvous. I do have normal IR return on the rest of the group though.”
“Well, sit tight. Hobgoblin is on the way up to lend a pair of eyes. Do you have magnification on visual, by chance?”
“I don’t have access to the big scope. Just a pair of binocs. Can’t make anything out clearly.”
“Acknowledged.”
Jones sighed. The forward telescope was stowed. A short squat cannister with a big wide shiny lens. A telltale twinkle in the starlit sky.
Couldn’t risk that.
The monitor showed the same unfocused patch of pitch black plate. The same image for the last three weeks. A high precision piece of Earth engineered optics, staring at it’s own servo mount. A dangerous liability, if pointed elsewhere.
His fingers drummed the console. If there was some cock-up with the rendezvous, it would be worth knowing now. Worth the risk. Jones reached towards the small black box mounted above the console. It would be quick. A flip of a switch would let him know everything.
“Do you think you’re being a bit hard on him?”
Jones paused, his fingertips hovering over the camera’s servo control. He turned to look back at Trent.
“Well, he’s a good kid. But he’s gotta learn a few things. Comms protocol for starters.”
Trent leaned back in the padded chair, idly swatting at the floating straps of the restraint harness.
“They grow up fast, out here,” he mused, staring ahead at the whitewashed wall.
“Pff. Literally. They’re taller than us before they hit puberty. First humans born off Earth.”
Trent sighed. “You know what I mean.”
“They’re tough. They’ll adapt. Hell, they’re doing things that we wouldn’t have dreamed of back at their age! Like how O’Dwyer’s boy built a working railgun a few weeks ago when nobody was looking, or Saeed’s girl managed to fabricate a bipropellant actuator with better flow control than the standard Energia kit. And your girl just piloted a four frame course by instrument, dead reckoning, and a pocket watch. I know you’ve gotta be proud of her for that.”
“I am. Don’t get me wrong. It’s just..” Trent sighed.
“They’re gonna make it,” Jones declared. “We’re gonna make it.”
“I hope.”
“Trent, we all hope for the same thing. That’s what got us into this mess, and that’s what’s gonna get us out. I know you like to wax poetic sometimes, even when nobody is actually listening. And I know you can be a moody sonofabitch when you stop and think about what’s been riding on your shoulders. But you need to get over it, and start looking forward again. The ship’s set sail, and you need to remember that everyone out here still thinks you’re in charge.”
“I never said I was in charge.”
“I didn’t say you were in charge. I said everyone thinks you’re in charge. I’m the captain of the Hornet here,” he slapped his hand against the command console, “And I still think you’re in charge.”
Trent sighed, staring blankly at the confines of the steel bunker.
“Sometimes, I wonder why.”
“Because I’ve got a nuclear starship, and you’ve got a way with words. Odds go to you.”
“Some starship. I hear it’s a long way to Alpha Centauri.”
“Gah. You and Terry are the king and queen of stupid jokes.”
Trent cleared his throat, speaking with a solemn and steady measure.
“..And here we are, past the familiar blue horizon of starless skies, looking forth upon the interminably vast cosmos. Leaving one home to seek another..”
“Oh fuck me, he’s going to give a speech, ladies and gentlemen!”
“Ah, no. I’ve spewed out enough hope and promises already. I’d rather not start another civil war before this one’s finished.”
Jones snorted in amusement.
“It’s been months since the last major raid. We’ve got some agriculturals back in operation, and the capacity to manufacture new ones. Give it another three months and we can go back to rationing instead of just plain starving.”
“Please stop talking about food.”
“The point is,” Jones continued, “That war is over. They’re hurting for resources more than we are, despite what they’ve managed to pilfer from us. But it won’t be long before Earth gets its shit together and tries to colonize in force what we’ve built out here. And when that happens, they’re not going to dole out any favors to those Benedict Arnold scumbags. It’s going to be quick and indiscriminate. There will be kangaroo courts and lynchings for us, and everything and everybody else is going to be divided up between the highest bidding Transnationals and continental Protectorates. That’s where we’d be right now, if it wasn’t for you. And if our former compatriots have any brains, they’ll get with the program and realize that.”
“I wouldn’t put it past them to try and hang us in zero gravity.”
“Never underestimate incompetence combined with imagined authority. Anyways, we can be ready for them. We’re rebuilding, we’re training, and we’ve stopped fighting. Well, mostly. And do you know why? Because we’ve got hope. We’ve got a future. When we meet up with Earth again, it’s going to be on our terms. I know it’s been tough on you, and I don’t blame you for staring out the window sometimes. But, we need you. There’s a whole lotta people out here that look up to you, because they’re hoping for a future without food shortages, kinetic jousts, supply raids, or having their livelihood auctioned off by the Powers That Used To Be. Trent, I can tell people what to do, but you’re the one that makes them want to do it in the first place. So for everybodys’ fucking sake, we need you to put on a big smile, lend a guiding hand, and keep all of us looking forward to that day where we get to choose how we’re going to live the rest of our lives.”
Trent plastered both hands over his face and groaned.
“I thought I was the only one that loved to hear myself talk.”
“Touche. Anyways, back to work. I’m starting to wonder if Terry’s got a problem getting the rendezvous set up. I’m thinking about deploying the 280mm scope to see what’s going on.”
“Would they call us if there was a problem?”
“If there was a problem, yeah. If it was serious enough. I’m not too worried about using the radio here. Million to one odds that anyone’s going to listen, and a billion to one that anybody’s in range to take a pot shot. Terry would radio us if there was some sort of cock-up.”
“Suppose so.”
“Hey, Trent. You remember that one thing you said a while back?”
“Mikey, I’m a thirty-eight year old senior citizen. I don’t remember shit anymore.”
“And I’m a forty-four year old Lieutenant Commander in the old Wet Navy. Now you’re making me feel old. Anyways, that thing you said.. something about ‘hammering our names into the history books’ or words to that effect.”
“Oh, that. Back before we even got the Public Space Infrastructure Group off the ground. Something like ‘Space is not a spectator sport’. ‘Get there first’... And..”
“Don’t look back,” Jones finished.
“Don’t look back. Yeah,” Trent sighed wistfully. “For a second, I thought you were going to ask about that other speech.”
“Well, you managed to take ‘Give me liberty or give me death’ and turn it into a five minute dissertation, but it got the job done.”
Trent grunted. “Dirty bomb diplomacy.”
“Without any casualties either. I’ll take Cold War part Two in Space for eight hundred, Alex.”
“..What?”
“Oh. Yeah. I think Jeopardy was before your time.”
Trent shrugged.
“Anyways, what about this?” he gestured at the telescope console.
“Right..”
The intercom crackled to life as Jones reached for the controls.
“Bridge, Dorsal lookout. IR return forward. Repeating flashes. On the face of the rock.”
“What?” Jones and Trent whispered in unison.
“Ah, Dorsal, Bridge. Say again your last. Repeating flashes?” Jones’s fingertips rested on the telescope servo joystick.
“I think it’s Morse code, Bridge.”
“What does it say?”
“Um. Bridge, Dorsal. I don’t know Morse code.”
“Ahhh. Shit. Okay, I think we have a codebook up on the real bridge. The one with all the painted windows. Can someone traverse there and grab it?”
“Bridge, Hobgoblin. I’m at Dorsal lookout now. Don’t worry about the code book, I still remember it. Used to operate shortwave sets back on Earth. I’m looking at the scope now. Yeah, definitely reads as Morse. Stand by.”
“Is this part of the exercise?” Trent whispered to Jones.
“No. Shut up for a minute.”
They waited. A minute passed.
“Bridge, Dorsal.”
“Bridge. Go ahead, Captain Greybeard.”
“Jones, You need to set Ship Condition One, and Suit Condition Two.”
“Whoa, what?”
“Just do it, Mikey.”
“What the hell is going on? What do you see?”
There was a brief pause. A slow raspy intake of breath.
“O’Dwyer, are you on the net? Trent, you too?”
“Aye.”
“Listening.”
“All stations this net, Dorsal lookout. Message received as follows: ‘Ambush. Ambush. Laser. Jake hit. Rescue underway. Make ready to return fire’.”
* * *
It was a tranquil day in Ponyville.
It was a waking nightmare for Sweetie Belle.
A scenic trail meandered along the shore of a shallow pond. Through a break in the vegetation, a brown muddy beach claimed ground between the placid water and the thick burl of grass that marked the edge of the meadow.
Sweetie Belle drew her breath as she stepped past the thin green line, her hooves sinking softly into the smooth brown sand. Her hind legs followed numbly in turn, pushing forward despite her silent screaming protest.
She was alone. She was scared.
A gentle breeze wafted across the meadow, rustling the leaves of the bushes surrounding the pond. It was a soft innocuous sound, amid the chirping of larks and warbling calls of unseen insects. Just like what she heard only two days before; a rustling of branches followed by the rhythmic stamp of so many black bristling legs.
She shivered.
The beast haunted her through dreams and waking hours. A segmented chitinous carapace that silently stalked the spaces out of sight, but not out of reach. In lieu of a head, dozens of gibbering tooth rimmed tendrils flailed blindly with violent vile ambition. She could see them still, no matter how far she fled from that afternoon in the Everfree.
Such a creature was seldom seen by ponies. Just as ponies were seldom to never return from the lush labyrinthine jungle. Fortunately such meetings were rare, in spite of how unfortunate they were.
The meadow near the pond was a well trodden playground for Sweetie Belle and her filly friends. A sanctum of innocence and laughter, mirth and play. But those feelings were behind her now, beyond the green line of the meadow’s edge, and a distant memory of recent days.
Against all rational compunction, she felt compelled to step to the very edge of the pond. The mirrored surface shimmered and sparkled, a wavy reflection of the far bank. The gaping maw of the Everfree Forest spread far and beyond the distal shore, a fortress of hidden terrors near the place she used to play.
She was scared. But it was not the forest, nor it’s quick quiet denizens that caused her heart to race. It was a something small and innocuous. Something carried with her, and something carried within her.
A candle to light the darkness.
She could faintly feel the small object tucked away within a cloth purse, and braided securely within the base of her mane. A little secret that she could not reveal to her older sister, nor even her closest friends.
A spark to ignite the flame.
It was a strange gift. Hers to use, provided that she did not. Not without reason, anyways. The cloth purse was tied tightly within her mane, and sewn shut with sturdy thread. Retrieving it would be either painstakingly slow, or painfully quick.
A path to true purpose, and a promise to be met half-way.
It was not the small silvery object that had brought her here, to the edge of the pond, within a stone’s throw of the forest; but it had helped.
“Being brave only happens when you aren’t, but you do it anyways,” she whispered.
Her flank still stung from the paralytic venom, and the tiny sutures that pulled the skin tightly back together. Despite the tiny scar, it was still white as eggshell, and blank as a newborn foal’s.
She sighed. The last few years had been a fruitless struggle to find her cutie mark, but that felt pointless now. Not that she didn’t want to keep trying, if only for the fun she had with her friends in the frequently disastrous process.
There were many things that she dreamed about doing someday, and a great many more that had been unceremoniously crossed off that list with a vow never to attempt again. On the other hoof, singing seemed to come naturally, and she was quite good at it. She actually enjoyed singing from time to time. It was a nice hobby, but to define herself by that single talent, it suddenly seemed a little underwhelming.
Sweetie Belle sighed as she tapped her hoof at the water’s edge. She spied a small branch that had fallen from the far forest and beached itself upon the near sandy shore. Long lapping waves gently nudged the piece of wood, beckoning her attention.
It was about the right size.
Living under the shadow of her older sister had instilled a fair amount of awe and envy for her talent and fame. Though she gagged inwardly at the thought of being so fussy in exchange for such fabulousness. She gagged again at that last word too.
Her horn glowed weakly as she attempted to lift the stick from the sandy shore, but it scarcely budged.
Rarity’s command of magical telekinesis was quite exceptional among unicorns. Elegant efficiency and delicate control that even Twilight couldn’t pretend to match. Sweetie Belle wished for a mere fraction of her sister’s ability. Yet, while Rarity was busy summoning a hurricane of strange shiny fabrics and assorted metallic implements within her workshop, Sweetie Belle was exerting the very limits of her concentration to pick up a stick from the mud.
At least it had kept Rarity preoccupied enough for her to sneak out.
She tried again, focusing her ethereal sense upon the waterlogged branch. It felt much different than it looked. Had she picked it up, it would have felt grainy and solid, albeit rather damp. Through her magic though, it felt like bundles of tightly woven fibers composed of impossibly small membranes packed together like a foam of tiny bubbles, each filled with graveyards of inert chemical machinery, adrift listlessly within a sea of derelict protein chains. Not that she knew what those were, or why it felt that way.
It probably just meant that she wasn’t focusing properly.
Her eyes squeezed shut and she concentrated; attempting to focus on the stick, rather than its innumerable components. A glowing corona surrounded her horn as the stick began to stir.
A gentle breeze washed across the pond.
There was a rustle in the bushes.
There was a sharp stabbing sensation on Sweetie Belle’s flank.
She bolted away with one panicked heave of her legs. The stick shot into the air, and slashed viciously across the space where she once stood. A prickly bush exploded in a shower of pointed leaves, leaving stripped bare branches waving in their wake.
The waterlogged stick remained firmly fixed in the air, enveloped by a bright green magical haze. Jets of steam whistled from both ends of the stick, crushed tightly within her telekinetic grip.
After several long laborious seconds, she remembered to breathe again. The stick dropped to the ground as she forcibly exhaled, gasping for air to appease the ravenous hunger in her chest.
What if somepony had been next to her?
What if she was holding something other than a wet stick?
The thought sent shivers down her spine.
A cutie mark in singing would be okay. It would be nice and safe. And she did like to sing. She really did.
What if that hadn’t been a bush full of prickly leaves?
It wasn’t a desire to sing that brought her out here today, near the edge of the forest. She tentatively lifted the stick again, somewhat more easily this time, but she didn’t imagine it as a microphone before a captive audience.
She could be anything she wanted, so she was told. And it could be whatever she wanted, rather than something specific or predetermined. Or safe.
The stick hovered unsteadily before her, and she closed her eyes once again. She would need to practice, if this was what she wanted.
There were monsters in this world. And maybe even beyond this world as well.
The stick speared through the remains of the brush, straight and true.
She was scared. But it was not the forest, nor its skittering abominations that terrified her.
It was her.
* * *
The tram hummed to a halt.
Trent spat out a delicate tuft of pink hair.
Fluttershy was no longer kneeling on her seat, which was absolutely the wrong way to ride the tram. It even said so on a series of glossy white public service placards on the wall, describing the several ways to properly ride the high speed eMag, and the several other ways explicitly depicted under a big red slashed circle. No loose objects, no weapon discharges, no unrestrained children or wild animals, and no sitting backwards on the benches.
Failing to heed these warnings, she was splattered across Trent’s lap like one big yellow feathery snowball.
“Um, Fluttershy? I’m sorry. That was probably my fault.”
A low growl issued forth in response.
“Anyways, you’ll be glad to know that we’re finally here! We can see the ship, and then go back home, if you like. Whenever you’re ready.”
She shook her head the way someone might slap the side of an old television, attempting to merge several blurry images into one clear signal.
“Again, sorry about that. But I will have you know that these trams are perfectly safe. Er, as safe as they can be while still doing their job. I mean, this isn’t exactly a civilian ship, so it doesn’t have all the safety protocols you’d expect. They go really fast for a good reason, because you don’t want to skimp on acceleration when you’re trying to send firefighters to fires, technicians to hull breaches, or just trying to outrun.. um.. really bad things.”
Fluttershy rolled off of Trent’s lap, and looked up with a forced smile, taking deep breaths through clenched teeth.
“They’re actually vacuum rated with self-contained life support systems. In case.. you know, one gets stranded, or ejected from the ship. The odds of that happening are pretty rare, but they’re built for contingencies like that. They also provide quick egress to the Torpedo, which is kind of like a giant escape pod, except it..”
Fluttershy smiled a little wider, bearing a grin that could be best described as ‘mostly herbivorous’.
“..Right. Ah, follow me please. This way.”
Trent strode briskly out of the tram. Fluttershy followed moments later, after successfully resisting the urge to hurl herself upright on two legs and wring Trent’s neck as best as she could without the benefit of opposable thumbs.
“Miss Fluttershy?”
She halted, just inches from the tram door.
“We are so glad to see you again, Miss Fluttershy.”
“Oh..” she looked up to the speakers set in the tram’s ceiling.
“We are so glad that you made it, Miss Fluttershy.”
“Um. Thank you,” she said nervously.
“You’re welcome,” Trent called from the platform outside.
“We never forgot about you, Miss Fluttershy.”
“Okay..”
“You don’t need to be scared. Just step onto the platform. Mind the gap though. We’re almost there.”
Fluttershy poked her head out of the tram, setting one hoof on the suspended steel grate.
“Miss Fluttershy?”
“Yes?” she asked softly, turning her head to look behind her.
“What time is it?”
“Um..”
“What time is it?”
“I.. I’m not sure..”
“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Trent coaxed.
“WHAT TIME IS IT!”
Fluttershy dashed out onto the platform and huddled behind Trent, looking back at the open doors of the tram. Her wings folded tightly against her sides.
“WHAT TIME IS IT!”the voice thundered throughout the station.
“Ow!” Trent clapped his hands over his ears. “Noise, noise, noise... Mute! Hah!”
Fluttershy watched the tram doors close and seal with a soft hiss, before it sped away.
“What the hell was that all about?”
“I.. um,” Fluttershy gulped. “It was nothing.”
“Huh? No, I was talking about that noise we just heard. You heard it too, right?”
She nodded slowly.
“Weird. Oh well. Are we ready to go?”
“Um.. Mr. Trent?”
“Yes?”
“What time is it?”
“Ahh.. it’s the year Sixty-Seven thousand, Nine hundred B.C., give or take. I was wondering why I felt so jet-lagged.”
“That was a joke, right?”
“Yes. Mostly.”
“What do you mean by ‘mostly’?”
“Okay, we didn’t magically travel into the past just now. And I’m using magic as a metaphor for anything completely inexplicable here. Not your kind of magic. Anyways, the year is.. um.. what did I say earlier... Ah, yes. It’s the year Two Thousand One Hundred and Twelve, minus about one hundred and fifteen million.”
Fluttershy blinked.
“Remember how I said that this ship is one hundred and fifteen million light years from where it departed? That, then, and there was the year Twenty-one Twelve. But from here, what we see is one hundred and fifteen million years old! That’s how a light-year works. It takes one year for light to travel one light-year. But the ship travels faster than light! So we’ve arrived at a place that’s a hundred million years in the future, relative to where we left, which is now a hundred million years in the past, relative to us right now. Mind you, this is the incredibly simplified version, and I don’t have a differential chronometer to give me an exact answer. If you want me to get any more specific, I’d say it’s probably Tuesday.”
Trent crossed his arms, rubbing one thumb pensively against his chin, oblivious to the pounding magical migraine that Fluttershy suffered from his helpful explanation.
“Now, the ship thinks it’s still seventy thousand years before it was invented. I don’t know why, and I really don’t have the time to fix every starship with a clock blinking twelve. I can’t! That’s a really complicated job on something like this! It’s not supposed to happen in the first place! I mean, seriously! If the clock was off, the hyperdrive wouldn’t work, the AI systems would fence off into a split-brain condition.. not much of anything would actually work. Ohh. Oooh, wait a second...”
“What?”
“The hyperdrive!” he waved his hands excitedly. “It’s what makes the ship move! If it wouldn’t work then.. then they’d be stuck here! I mean the big ship would be stuck here, so they would have probably left on the smaller ship. But the other smaller ship is still here! So that means they could be back already!”
Trent’s fingers flipped open, showing a patch of glowing green symbols on his palm. He tapped at one, and curled his fist in front of his face.
“Any station this net, any station this net. Please respond. This is Trent. I say again, this is Trent. Please respond. Wilber, Branson, Richards.. you guys there? Jones? Terry? Anybody?”
Trent’s voice boomed from the overhead speakers, yet to Fluttershy, the words sounded like gibberish, and the names foreign.
He tapped his foot, waiting expectantly. After a minute though, he shrugged and sighed.
“They’re probably out there somewhere..”
“Why do you think they’re here? Didn’t the ship..” Fluttershy glanced upward nervously. “I mean, didn’t the ship say they were gone?”
“Yes it did. But can we trust it?”
Fluttershy’s eyes grew wide.
“I mean, we’ve got complete database corruption, a minor case of clock skew, the entire crew is MIA, hyperdrive probably doesn’t work, and we’re literally the farthest away you can get from any star system in the whole local group. Fat chance of getting towed home. Anyways, when I said we can’t trust it, that’s because it could be wrong, rather than, well, being malicious or deceitful. Computer’s don’t do that, so there’s no need to worry. Well, not unless you explicitly program them to do that, but that’s also unlikely. Then again, it’s pretty unlikely to be wrong too. Hmm.”
Trent blew a raspberry with his lips as he swung his arms back and forth, lost deep in thought.
“What about the ship? I mean, the one you wanted to show me?”
“Huh? Oh.. yeah. Yeah. It’s right this way.”
He pointed his finger at the wall, as if he were firing an imaginary gun. A light blinked red, and a metal cage descended.
“No ordinance, no unsecured objects, and no gravity. Hang on to the rails, please,” he gestured at the sign on the wall.
Trent stepped past the green line on the floor, and drifted weightlessly into the white wire cage. Fluttershy followed, flapping her wings as she slowed to a stop in the center. The feeling of falling gripped her like a python’s embrace, but she took a deep breath and exhaled calmly.
“I mean, about the ship, are we just going to take it?”
The wire cage moved, and so did they.
“I don’t see why not.”
“Doesn’t it belong to somebody? Will they need it?”
“It was registered to a Mr. Simon Hadley,” he said with a smirk. “Knowing that, where it came from, and where it is now, I can safely say that it’s sitting there waiting for nobody but me.”
An airlock slipped open as the lift cage zipped through.
“But what about Mr. Hadley?”
He chuckled.
“I wrote a silly little story once, a long while ago. Mr. Hadley happened to be in it. However, he is fictional, along with any claims to who owns that little ship. So I probably left it there for me to find.”
The wire cage started to coast, and Trent flipped his feet toward what used to be the ceiling. Fluttershy followed, flapping one wing as the world rotated around.
“Probably? Do you mean you can’t remember?” she furrowed her brow. It didn’t sound like a joke.
The cage started to slow, and they fell to the ceiling.
“Eh, sometimes I forget where I put things. Keys. Wallet. Atmospheric dropships,” he counted on his fingers with a wry grin. “Anyways, that ship is there for me to use however I want, as long I want, and I have all the time in the world to figure out why.”
Fluttershy decided not to ask any more questions, as it only made more of them. Trent continued, blithely disregarding any such plea.
“Anyways, if the crew of this ship needed to get away, they could have borrowed it. But since it’s here, then they would be back. On the other hand, they could have left on their own ship, or had the AutoFab build them one. But then they’d be gone, and I’m fairly sure they need to be here. Hmm. At least they’d be safe..”
In Fluttershy’s mind, the word ‘safe’ didn’t sound the same as it meant.
“Will they come back?”
The cage rattled to a stop, and they were flung back to the free float void.
“They would be back,” he stated flatly.
“But...”
“It’s complicated.”
Trent kicked away from the cage, rolling his feet towards the deck as he flew into the field of false gravity. He resumed walking without breaking stride, flinging aside a solid steel door with a flick of his fingertips. Lights flickered in the compartment beyond, revealing a bathroom and a break room, a table and a television.
There was a small glass window set into one wall, black as obsidian and as reflective as the depths of a well. He sauntered up to it, and raised two fingers in a vee shape.
“Two, please.”
Fluttershy stepped over the groove in the doorway, listening as it scraped shut behind her. The room was dingy, but not dirty. A vacuum cleaner was clamped to the wall, just inches above the threadbare green carpet. Rows of lockers stood as silent sentinels across the far wall, each concealing a pile of dust where a space suit once stood.
She lofted into the air, traversing the dimly lit room. A solid door occupied the far corner, with a window inset in the upper half. Light flickered in the far room, revealing a vault of machinations standing as hollow men, a tomb of steel sarcophagi awaiting their occupants.
“That’s the armory,” Trent spoke nonchalantly, as he pulled two plastic cards on lanyards from a receptacle on the wall.
Fluttershy hovered in front of the door, still peering through the window.
“You know how most of the guard ponies wear suits of armor, right? Same goes for the people that would work here.”
“What do they need it for?”
“For whatever awaits beyond this wall.”
Fluttershy frowned.
“You don’t really mean it like that. There’s no monsters. Or things that would try to hurt people. Are there?”
Trent smiled.
“No.. no monsters. No storybook ones, anyways. But it’s always good to be prepared.”
The door near Trent opened.
“Come on, this way.” He jingled the lanyard, and tossed the access card into Fluttershy’s waiting forehooves.
Fluttershy followed Trent into a small vestibule. To one side, there was a wide door emblazoned with the red cross that she had seen earlier in the medical bay. Straight ahead, there was another door, slick with condensation and cool to the touch.
Trent slid his hand across the door, flicking the water droplets from his fingers. He tapped at a round gage, noticing the needle was slightly off center.
“Hmm. A little pressure differential. This will probably feel funny.”
Trent twisted a handle on the wall, and the air rushed out with a whistling wail. The needle slowly returned to vertical as the pressure equalized.
To Fluttershy, the sudden drop in pressure felt like a quick trip up a tall mountain, but it didn’t feel terribly odd otherwise. On the other hand, Trent winced as he alternated between puffing his cheeks and opening his jaw as wide as he could.
“You okay?” he asked, while pressing his palm against his ear.
Fluttershy nodded.
Trent turned his attention to a long metal handle set into the door, throwing his weight against it. There was a squeal as spring-loaded catches ground against well worn metal ramps, and a small sudden whoosh of air as the door was pried away from the frame. He finished rotating the lever until it pointed down and away, and then pushed with a labored grunt as the door slid sideways along slick steel rails.
The room was black as pitch, save for a small square of illumination that spilled from the vestibule. Two silhouettes stretched into the interminable abyss, huddled upon an island of light within the empty gulf; standing at the threshold of what was, and what may become.
Fluttershy shivered. The air was chilled, teeming with fine dust that swirled within the plumes of steam from her nose. A blackened veil encroached from all sides, offering no hint of what lay beyond. Yet, even in the absence of sight, her ears perked forward at every creak and groan of the ship’s labyrinthine structure. The very whisper of her breath could be heard from the depths of the void, a soft siren’s call that echoed in vast distant chorus.
“After you, Miss Fluttershy,” he beckoned.
Her wings folded tightly against her sides, as surely as her hooves remained rooted to the deck. Trent crossed his arms, waiting patiently.
“You’re still curious to see it.”
She nodded. It had not been a question.
“And you know there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“It’s just another dark room,” she nervously asserted.
Trent tapped his foot, toeing the line where the door once stood.
“Just another dark room,” Trent mused. “One that could contain anything. Anything and everything, or exactly nothing at all. Adventure and excitement, romance and fulfillment, or despair and anguish. Any of these. An infinite number of paths leading out from the crossroads beneath your very hooves. The paths are meant to be taken, Fluttershy, and you will travel them, no matter how still you stand. We have no say against the cadence of time. You will march to the drumbeat that drives the universe.”
He drew his breath, kneeling down to stare directly into Fluttershy’s eyes.
“But you do have a choice. Any path to choose from. All depending on where you step. Standing still will not lead you to what you desire, nor will it delay that which you fear. You will find both in many forms, just as it will find you. The path is not clear, and the choices are not always safe or easy. But you can still decide. You have that freedom to choose, Fluttershy. Curiosity is your candle to light the darkness. Courage will be the spark that ignites that flame. All that remains is the conviction to take that first step, and you will meet your destiny half-way.”
They shared a short silence, a quiet lull suspended within the very center of the vast eternal nothingness that dwarfed the galaxies surrounding it.
“Mr. Trent?”
“Yes?”
“You really do like to talk a lot.”
Trent erupted with a loud bellowing laugh that reverberated from the far end of the maintenance bay.
“Onward then! To the unknown!” Trent thrust his arm into the dark room, his fingertips crossing through shadow and disappearing from sight.
Fluttershy gulped, uneasily raising one hoof over the threshold.
“To the future,” she whispered.
Hoof and boot stepped across together, plowing forth into the cold still air. They marched side by side, stepping off the island of light and plunging into the sea of shade.
Trent waved his hand, and light flooded the bay. It burned bright and brilliant, as expected from the Kreshtahl - Phillips halide arc array.
The bay stretched tall and wide, stopped short by an immense door. Cranes dangled from the ceiling and towering cages rose from the gritty gray floor. Tools lined laden chests, slick with grease and arranged neatly within their metallic nests. A broad boulevard through the city of steel offered passage for two long awaited guests.
Hangars stacked along the walls in sweeping expanse, an empty hive where hulking spacecraft once moved and danced. The scope and scale hinted at the bustling activity that took place in the brightly lit room. Now quiet, save for their footsteps. Silent as a tomb.
Red lights spun and green lights flashed. A klaxon blared with shrill warning as Trent waved the mountainous door aside with a deafening crash. Onward they strode with purposeful gait.