> Lyra Heartstrings v. Republic of Terra
>  by PegasusKlondike
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Lyra Heartstrings: Naturalist Extraordinaire 
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

They thought she was crazy. 

Everypony always said there was something severely wrong with that minty unicorn from Canterlot, and it made her a bit of an oddity in the already odd town of Ponyville. Oh no, it's perfectly normal for an Ursa Minor, a swarm of parasprites, a fully grown freaking dragon, and not to mention the embodiment of chaos to attack and completely destroy all of Ponyville in the span of one year. But she talks about hands and humans once at a town hall meeting, and suddenly everypony starts snickering at her when she's out in public. Okay, not just once. And there was the time she tried the Running of the Leaves bipedally. And then the time where she nearly burned down hers and Bon Bon's house trying to build artificial fingers. 

.....And she may have once been an unwilling pawn and bridesmaid to a changeling queen.

Well not anymore! 

Lyra could barely contain her excitement, but she had to. The thick camouflage ghilly suit was making her sweat profusely in the abnormally warm air of early summer. But she didn't care, for today, her entire life would be validated. Peering through her spotting scope at a pond in the edges of the Everfree Forest, she knew that her prey would make its first appearance to her.

Nearly twenty years of research, speculation, snooping around some of the oldest libraries in existence, and even constant monitoring by the Royal Guards themselves would pay off. Today, she would see her first human. Or at least she hoped. Hopefully it wasn't Sasquatch Samuel again, just doing his normal woodland business by the edge of the pond. She even talked to Sam once or twice, nice guy and all that, but his footprints were way too large to be the prints of the creature she had been tracking near Sweet Apple Acres a few weeks ago.

She had placed all her eggs in this one basket, and had prepared her 'I told you so!' banner and speech that she would rub into everypony's face when she brought back concrete evidence of human existence. Fully outfitted in gear she had discreetly bought out of the back of one of those explorer magazines, she waited patiently for her quarry to arrive.

"How the heck do those ponies do this? This damn outfit is supposed to be breathable!" she said to herself, wiping the copious sweat from her brow with a hoof. Daring Do always looked so comfortable in those khakis, on the cover of all those books. Underneath the burlap surface of her camouflage, Lyra's khaki shirt clung to her skin. "I bet Daring Do never had to hide under a soggy ghilly suit."

She remembered how she had begun this actual field work instead of relying solely on hearsay and intense research. 

It had been about three weeks ago, a couple of weeks after the Cutie Mark Crusaders had caused a ruckus by digging up something in Sweet Apple Acres. Her good friend Doctor Whooves had taken over for the fillies, getting rather serious about the excavation. But it seemed that almost as soon as he started making progress, a near full battalion of Royal Guards swooped in, declaring the excavation to be hazardous to the health of any diggers.

And before Lyra could get her two-bits on the dig site, they destroyed it. Those damn cut and paste pegasi brutes destroyed the whole damn thing! And after Doctor Whooves had been arrested, they disappeared. The six mares who seemed to be the cause of most trouble around Ponyville, Twilight Sparkle and her friends, just vanished without a trace or even a goodbye note.

Lyra thought it was very odd, but it did not really concern her interests, seeing as those real weirdos just happened to do that fairly often. But what did pique her interest was the tale that The Doc had told her after his house arrest ended. Something about strange bones, bones only comparable to those of Zebrican apes. And from years of study and research, Lyra knew that what made those apes unique was hands.

They had hands to manipulate just about anything in their environment. And what else had hands in her book? Humans. The human-ape connection could be possible, but many creatures had hands, like minotaurs and diamond dogs.

The weeks had drifted by slowly, Lyra made money by teaching the lyre to young students and Bonbon filled in the slack with her candy-making business. She enjoyed her time with her new wife, but then they reappeared, those six mares reappeared with some new creature in tow. 

He stayed hooded and cloaked at all times, but his height and his stance drew Lyra to the creature called 'Ambassador Zinra'. She'd been too intimidated by the tall creature to approach it properly, but the way it moved, and the way it acted around ponies made her wonder. Does he know something I don't? Does he have any relation or knowledge of the things that have consumed my time, my studies and my life?

And right about the time Ambassador Zinra showed up, some of Bonbon's customers started telling rumors of a strange creature that wandered around at night. A tall biped that zipped from shadow to shadow, skulking about to avoid the guard patrols. From there on, she spent much of her time in the Everfree Forest, knowing that the strange creature could just be a remnant of her obsession, hiding out on the outskirts of Ponyville. She saw no sign of bipeds in the Everfree, that is, until she wandered out into Sweet Apple Acres one day about three weeks ago. 

There they had been, plain as beautiful day. The tracks of a bipedal creature, with five toes and no claws like Ambassador Zinra. With those tracks plastered and on a shelf in her private room, she completely annihilated any connection between the strange reptilian ambassador and a possible human that had wandered out of the Everfree.

Sure, her recent spike in her crazy obsession was worrying Bonbon half to death, but Lyra knew better than her. The possible human had disappeared for a few weeks, then, she spotted signs of him by this very pond. More tracks, and fresh enough to still feel the warmth of his feet.

Lyra's extreme reminiscence was cut short by the sound of a snapping twig along the game trail she overlooked. Encompassing her binoculars in magic, she scanned slowly for any signs of the creature. A flicker of movement caught her eye. Her heart pounded like a drum, threatening to burst out of her ribs with excitement. But nothing showed itself, and Lyra huffed as she set down her binoculars.

Another twig snapped nearby, and she levitated her binoculars again. Adjusting the focus, a red-amber blur resolved into a pair of eyes staring right through the binoculars.

"Howdy, Mrs Lyra!" 

The mint green unicorn shrieked, easily leaping six feet into the air, ghilly suit and all. Trembling from being startled so suddenly, Lyra tore off her camouflage. Sitting a few feet in front of her blind were none other than the Cutie Mark Crusaders. "Girls! What are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be in school or something?"

"It's a Saturday, Mrs Lyra," Sweetie Belle told the mare.

"Yeah! And we're taking this opportunity to get our cutie marks!" Scootaloo said, pulling a black band over her forehead.

Lyra rolled her eyes, using her magic to repair the damage to her blind. "What could you possibly get a cutie mark for out here in the woods?"

The three fillies glanced at each other, jumping into the air and clapping their hooves together. 

"CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS NINJA WARRIORS!"

"Ninja...warriors. How can you be ninja warriors out in the woods? And try not to be so loud! You might scare it off."

"We're practicin' bein' stealthy by sneakin' up on critters!" Apple Bloom replied to Lyra.

Lyra slapped a hoof to her face. "Oh boy. I'm sorry to say this girls, but that will never work."

"Yeah it will, we snuck up on you, didn't we?"

Lyra lifted a hoof to point out the flaw in their logic. But stopped herself when it proved to be more flawless than the diamonds that Rarity coveted so fiercely. "Look, you girls need to head on out, there's a creature out here that might be dangerous, and I'm out here to do some research on it. So just head on back to town and play some hopscotch or something. I know I'd like a hopscotch cutie mark," Lyra said to the fillies.

The trio of fillies raised their eyebrows. "Dangerous critter? Well why the heck didn't ya say so?" Again they leapt into the air, clapping their hooves together.

"CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS MONSTER HUN-"

"Shh!" Lyra hissed to them. "This is a big monster that eats only little fillies that don't listen to their elders! Now shoo before it catches your scent!" She cupped a hoof to her ear. "Oh no, I think I hear it coming! Can you hear it? It's saying, 'Fee Fi Fo Fum, I smell the blood of little fillies."

The Crusaders just stared at her like she was a loon. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious."

The Crusaders shrugged and trotted off back towards town, leaving Lyra once again in the serenity of the forest. Shaking her head at the odd little fillies, she pulled her ghilly suit back on, hunkering down on the forest floor and hoping they hadn't arrived at exactly the wrong time and scared it away.


******************************


"I'm walkin' on sunshine, woooah! I'm walkin' on sunshine, woooah! And don't it feel good!" the strange bipedal creature sang out loud as he walked the forest trail. "Yeah! You bet your feathers it does!" he said to a pair of bluebirds in their nest, looking at the oddity with obvious confusion. The birds slapped their wings to their heads, hopefully to drown out the abhorrent, offkey singing.  

Toting a borrowed fishing pole on his shoulder, he whistled the tune, a bounce in his step. "Ah, things are finally looking up for me. I saved humanity from certain extinction, brought peace back to the land and even made myself a home in the nicest town on Earth. Damn it's good to be alive! Heck, my parents are even proud of me!"

He started singing again, inventing his own lyrics. "Princess Luna is my fri-end, woooah! Stopped a genocide from happening, woooah! Brought magic to humanity, woooah! And don't it feel good!" he sang as he flicked a small ball of light at a branch, making the flower buds bloom. He was different than most humans, certain interactions with a deity and massive infusions with an entire army of souls had endowed the singing human with his own certain brand of magic. But as the human populace slowly started to replenish, so would magic users like him. As far as he knew, there was only one other like him so far, and she was just three weeks old.

Whistling the never-ending tune in his own way, he almost felt like skipping to the pond he had found a few days ago. With humanity on the rebound after two thousand years of absence, nature had really reclaimed everything she lost. The trees here in the Everfree were titanic in size, just like the virgin forests of early America. And with the size of the fish he saw jumping out of that pond, his fingers felt itchy to put line on water. 

Which was a double benefit to the omnivorous human, he could enjoy a little protein if he caught something. Yeah, Ponyville was a great town and all, but getting meat there was harder than buying dirty movies at a convent. Ponies just didn't have any need for the stuff, and most found it utterly revolting. 

"Ooohhhh!!! I'm walkin' on sunshin- AAAIIIEEEEE!!!" the human shouted as something small and hoofed leapt on his back, throwing a pair of hooves over his eyes. He calmed as he recognized the trademark giggle, and smiled as he pulled Apple Bloom off his back. "And just what do you think you're doing?" he said to the squirming filly in his hands. 

"Gettin' mah ninja cutie mark, cousin!" she replied. 

"Oh ho! So it's ninjas today?" He set down Apple Bloom, scanning around for the other two fillies that had to be hiding somewhere nearby, ready to pounce on him. "Come out, come out, wherever you are. Aaannndd, GOTCHA!" He spread the leaves on a bush, scaring Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo out of their ambush. "Haha, ninjas! You could not escape me!"

The Crusaders all leapt on him, taking him down to the ground. "Oh no, I've been defeated! I yield, I yield!" The Crusaders all beamed at their victory over the human menace, climbing off him and letting him stand back up. 

"Whatcha doin' out here, Aaron?" asked Apple Bloom. 

"Well little cousin, I thought I'd just try the old hand at fishing." It was fairly obvious there was no real relation between the human and the pony. But the Apples considered him one of the bunch. "Does Applejack know you're out wandering the woods? And how about you, Sweetie Belle. Does Rarity know where you are?"

The fillies tried to put on their most innocent grins, and no matter the heart melting effectiveness it had on the human, it still was not enough. Grinding a hoof tip into the ground, they shook their heads. "Well you better head on back to town before something a lot meaner than me shows up and snatches you away." The Crusaders began to walk back along the trail, their heads hung low in dejection. Aaron felt like he had kicked a puppy. "Aw, to make it up to you, here's some bits. Go on and buy yourselves something sweet in town."

"Thank you!" they chimed together, taking his offered coins and rushing back towards Ponyville. He chuckled to himself, not regretting a moment of this home he had been offered by ponykind. Grabbing up his pole, he continued along the trail, remembering how he had been given so much so generously.

The Apple family had been there for Aaron in his time of greatest need, and had been a shoulder to cry on after his somber duties of remembrance. He remembered that night, only a few weeks ago, yet it seemed like eternity after what had happened. Granny Smith had seen his plight after erecting that monument in their orchard, seeing that his heart was crushed by grief for the fallen people of his race. Granny had given him the most precious gift he had ever received, she had shared her family with him. And from that day forth, he proudly called himself a member of the Apple family. 

But after that, things had become even stranger than having talking ponies and other animals take over the world from a technologically superior race, if that was possible. Although it was crystal clear in his memory, he didn't really like to think about it much. There were many moments that stood out, like being captured, being thrown in prison, being somewhat tortured by the sinful memories of his mostly extinct race, meeting God, getting possessed by aforementioned God, and ultimately becoming the avatar of all darkness before being purified by the Elements of Harmony, thus giving him the power to do the same for the resurrected humanity. 

So much of that crap, and all in about two weeks. Hell, the strain and difficulty of it had actually killed him at one point. But the deity colloquially known as 'Mother' would have none of that, and kicked his sorry soul back into his body to finish the job.

Continuing along the trail, he spied his goal glittering in the summer sunlight just past this next layer of trees. Walking out of the treeline, he picked a nice spot along the bank and tossed his lure out, settling in for a nice afternoon of fishing for some decent food.


***********************************************


Lyra's heart nearly stopped as something came quietly along the trail to the pond. At first, she was sure it was another deer or something, maybe even a prankster squirrel again. But no, this strange creature just walked boldly out into the open, toting a fishing pole.

As it settled by the shore of the pond, Lyra magicked out her notebook and pencil, scribbling notes on the majestic creature before her.

"This is Lyra Heartstrings; musician, theorist, and most recently, naturalist," she whispered to herself, the excitement of the situation inflating what little ego remained in her. "Today is a glorious day for science and indeed all Equestria, the day when I personally discovered humans. The creature in front of me is about six feet tall, give or take a few inches. It has short hair, brown in coloration. Though the limit of this coverage seems to be the top of the head, almost like a mane. I believe I shall name it. I shall call this beautiful creature Homo Lyrus, in honor of its discoverer."

Setting down her pencil and peering out through the eyeholes of her suit, she continued her study of the proud and mighty human. He just seemed to stand there, doing nothing but fishing. He twitched for a second, breaking one of his fingered hands away from the fishing pole and indiscreetly scratching what she guessed to be its flank.

"So majestic..." Lyra whispered, wiping a tear of beauty from her eye. "This explorer notes the use of short claws on the hand for removal of parasites through its clothing. Fingers appear to be long and dexterous, possibly evolved for climbing trees and plucking fruit. Short claws may prove strong enough to dig for tubers, but this will remain unknown until further observation."

The human began to reel in his bait, casting it out again at a different area of the pond. Taking in a breath, it began to whistle some strange, repetitive tune. 

Lyra's heart raced. Possible mating call?! she scribbled down. "If so, I can estimate the human mating season to begin in late spring or early summer. How wonderful it would be to see a female walk out and begin the mysterious courtship rituals, maybe even witness them breeding!" Lyra waited anxiously for any signs of additional humans to enter the clearing as the creature several yards in front of her continued his strange tune. 

"Hmm, possible rarity of humans may indicate the futility of his mating call. This explorer shall move on to the test that she can perform while the creature is still comfortable in its natural environment." 

Carefully lifting the edge of her ghilly suit, she levitated a potato, chucking it at the human. The spud flew through the air, landing in the dirt next to his feet. 

Startled by the appearance of the random potato, the creature leapt back a step, clutching the fishing pole like a weapon. Its shoulders dropped and an eyebrow raised as he inspected his assailant spud. Leaning down and picking it up, he began to look closely at it.

"Subject is inspecting my offering! Perhaps this shall result in first concrete knowledge of its diet." Lyra held her pencil ready as the creature inspected the potato, waiting for it to begin feasting. It glanced around for the source of the strange, flying tuber. With a shrug, it tossed the potato over its shoulder, resuming its fishing.

"Hmm, subject appears disinterested in my offering, perhaps it is not dependent on a starch heavy diet? I shall conclude my field studies and bring subject back to my lab." Lyra levitated a small tube out from her saddlebag, placing a dart into it. Holding it to her lips, she aimed at the creature's flank and blew as hard as she could. 

The dart zoomed through the air, impacting solidly in his buttock. The humans seized up, reaching down with hand and yanking the dart from his ass. Holding it in front of his face, he inspected it with the greatest confusion. "Huh?" he said as he scratched his head.

"Tranquilizer ineffective! I'll have to put another in him!" Quickly Lyra loaded another dart, shooting this one into his arm. Again he winced at the impact, looking down dreamily at the second dart. 

He swooned on his feet, rocking around as the tranquilizer took effect. "Hehehe," he dumbly giggled before he fell forward, flat on his face into the mud. A few bubbles rose as he gurgled in the mud.

Lyra crept from her stand, putting another dart in her blowgun and approaching cautiously. Nudging it with a hoof, it remained unresponsive. A huge smile broke her face in two, and she pumped a hoof in victory. "Bagged him!" 

Flipping the heavy creature onto his back, she cleared the mud from his nose and mouth, lest her precious biped suffocate. "That's right, they all called me crazy! Now who's laughing!" she cackled as she draped a tarpaulin over his still form, levitating his incredibly heavy form. "Holy Celestia, who the heck knew he could be this heavy?"

With his feet dragging on the ground, Lyra began to drag him back to her home to begin a more proper examination, possibly even a vivisection.


****************************************************


Bonbon hummed quietly as she trotted through her very brightly decorated kitchen. Grabbing a tube of white chocolate in her teeth, she began to draw the decorative white chocolate lines across her latest batch of chocolate truffles. Sure, she had all day tomorrow to make candy, but chocolate truffles always seemed to sell out quickly on Sundays, and being prepared never hurt anypony. Especially since she was in direct competition with those uppity Cakes and their baked goods, curse that Pinkie Pie and her otherworldly ability to make sweets that damn quickly!

A strand of her blue and pink mane fell from her hairnet, and she placed down her tube of white chocolate to slide the wayward strand back into place. Looking at the clock, she realized she had forgotten something.

"Oh shoot! It's my turn to make dinner tonight!" And with how Lyra had been acting lately, Bonbon thought she should make  her favorite dish, just to get her mind off things and hopefully bring her wife back from her obsessive craziness for a few hours.

Sure, it was a bit of a hassle living with with one of Ponyville's most notorious loonies, but there were things about Lyra that more than made up for her unnatural obsession. She was sweet, caring, kind, and always tried to give more than she received. But what made Bonbon fall in love with her was her boldness. Lyra was not afraid to declare her love for the meek and soft spoken Bonbon, even though many ponies still frowned upon them being filly-foolers. She stood up for her beliefs, even though they were outlandish and strange like her belief in humans. No matter how much anypony told her that she was wasting her time, Lyra always stuck to her guns.

And Lyra had even been the one bold enough to drop to her knees in public and pull out that ring. The unicorn had always been a pillar of strength for Bonbon, but Lyra was more fragile than she seemed. She was lonely after she moved here from Canterlot to live in the "countryside" of Ponyville. Nopony would really talk to the Canterlot transplant, but one day at her sweet shop, Bon Bon broke the ice with Lyra. 

They became quick friends, the outspoken unicorn seeming to make up for the softer personality of Bonbon. And her lovable, level headed thinking seemed to rub off on Lyra, making her take the gentler, more thoughtful option where the more rambunctious or even risky option would have been the unicorn's first choice. And only a few months after they became friends, their relationship went to a whole new level when they went to see a play in Canterlot. 

Something about being home in Canterlot made Lyra even bolder and more confident than she was in Ponyville. And as the snowflakes twirled through the lamplight of a lonely Canterlot avenue, the streets bedecked with the regalia of the holiday season, something inside of both mares drew them together. Perhaps it was the warmth of the other mare's touch, perhaps it was this unbreaking and undying friendship that had weathered so many trials. But under that lamppost, outside the theater in Canterlot, they shared their first kiss.

Bonbon sighed, a smile creeping up her lips at the fair and fond memory of sharing such a passionate and loving moment with the mare who had become her partner for life. Pulling out the skillet, she lit the stove and began to dice some shallots to saute in butter. Lyra always loved pan sauteed mushrooms with shallots, but that was just an appetizer. Another one of her wife's quirks, loving the appetizer more than the meal, even where food wasn't concerned. Thinking about that had Bonbon's cheeks lighting up scarlet, though she was alone. Tonight was going to be Lyra's favorite, celeriac stew. And though it was more of a winter vegetable, the market stalls still had a few left over, which was why this was going to be a big surprise for Lyra.

"Come to think of it, where is Lyra?" Bonbon mused out loud. There had been a big town hall meeting that morning about the absolution of a recent military crisis, and the declaration by none other than the ambassador of this once hostile race about their peaceful intent from here on out. Of course Pinkie Pie had squealed in her seat, letting everypony know she was holding a huge party to properly welcome her new friend, a creature called 'Ambassador Patterson'. Not to mention to celebrate the end of a long standing war that had apparently been raging secretly for two millenia between their races. Bonbon thought little of it, strange creatures came and went from Ponyville all the time, that strange biped was nothing special. And as for this supposed 'war', Bonbon thought even less of that. Her brother was enlisted in the Equestrian Royal Army, and often sent letters home to his little sister about how brutal the pie throwing skirmish had been between the bison and the immigrant Appaloosans. 

Of course, that zebra that lived out in the woods had been too shocked to say anything at first, running from the town hall and screaming something about how the chimpanzees were right and shouting something in her native tongue. Bonbon had to wonder what 'Wale Mrefu' meant.

But Lyra hadn't been there at all, and Bonbon hadn't seen her since she left that morning, muttering something about 'today being the day'.

The sun was well past its zenith, and the stew well on its way to being dinner when Lyra decided to show herself. 

A knock came at Bonbon's front door, and the mare cocked an eyebrow as she read a book in her living room. "Who could be visiting today?" Again the knock came, and not wanting to rise from her comfy seat, she simply called out, "Come in!"

For a third time the pounding knock on her front door came, more frantic this time. Groaning at having to leave her warm and cozy couch, she rose and walked over to the front door. Opening up, Lyra burst in with some soggy, muddy and dripping thing wrapped in a tarp. The unicorn was covered in camouflage paints, and twigs visibly poked out from her white and green mane. "Bonbon! Close the blinds, lock the door, I don't want anypony to see this before I have my chance at studying it!"

Bonbon wrinkled her nose at the scents of mud and pond water drifting from the tarp covered lump. "What's under there?"

Lyra slapped Bonbon's hoof away as she tried to peer underneath. "I'll show you when it's more private! Now get the blinds!" Concerned for her wife, Bonbon lowered the blinds and locked the front door. "Good, now grab his feet and help me drag him into my lab!"

"He?!? Wait, you have a lab?!"

Lyra's horn glowed with golden magic, lifting what she could of the unconscious creature. "Yeah, it's my special room. You know, the one I always lock?"

"Your lyre practice room?"

"Yeah, that one. NOW GRAB HIS FEET!" Bonbon lifted the limp legs and placed them on her back, helping Lyra drag the creature down stairs and into the room attached to their basement. Lyra opened the lock with her magic, opening the door to the room that she had wisely kept secret from Bonbon. (And even more importantly the Equestrian government.) 

Bonbon dropped her half of the bundle, gawking at the shear amount of conspiracy theorist stereotypes lining the walls of Lyra's special room. Pages from old books were taped to the walls, shelves of plaster footprints and bone fragments inside of jars accompanied piles of rusted junk and even what looked like a few artist's renditions of possible human anatomy. A huge map of the known world covered an entire wall, pins stuck in at places where Lyra had been to search for evidence of humans. And apparently the unicorn had done quite a bit of traveling before she met Bonbon.

A single dingy lantern dimly lit the entire room, hanging over a large wooden table. With a heave and a burst of her magic, Lyra shoved her bundle onto the table, panting from the exertion of dragging him from the Everfree Forest back to her house, and being covert in the process.

"Lyra, what is that?!" Bonbon finally said to her wife.

Sitting on her haunches, Lyra's panting broke into a victorious smile. "Hold on a moment." Her horn flared to life one more time, pulling out a large sheaf of paper that she hung from some pegs on the ceiling. 

In bold, black letters, gold paint with plenty of ribbon, lace, and a shower of confetti, the banner unfurled to read: I TOLD YOU SO!

Bonbon slapped a hoof to her mouth. "Oh my goddess.... Lyra, that had better not be what I think it is under that tarp."

Lyra stood on her hind legs, dramatically posing over the lumpy tarp. "I was gonna wait for a press conference to do this, but, BEHOLD! Homo Lyrus!" She tore back the tarp to reveal the unconscious human. 

Bonbon fell completely silent, her slack jaw quivering with horror. Lyra sauntered over proudly, holding her head high as she chided Bonbon. "I'm sorry, what was that? Lyra, you were right the entire time? I'm sorry for being a nonbeliever? Apology accepted, dearest." Lyra smooched the still shocked and motionless mare on the cheek.

"Lyra....you killed the Ambassador!"

Lyra gave a nervous laugh. "What? That's not Ambassador Zinra! And also he's-"

Bonbon grabbed her wife by the shoulders, glaring straight into her golden eyes. "NOT AMBASSADOR ZINRA!!! AMBASSADOR PATTERSON!!! The representative of Equestria's new allies! And you killed him!"

"Wait, WHAT?! New allies!? When did this all start?"

"Remember a few weeks ago when the entire Royal Army marched through Ponyville? They were marching to fight his kind on the other side of bison territory! They averted a war and we gained them as allies?! Any of this ringing a bell, Lyra?"

Lyra tapped her chin with a hoof. "Now that you mention it..."

"And you killed him! Oh goddess, do you know what the punishment is for murdering foreign dignitaries? Because I don't know! They'll probably turn you over to his people's government, and then they'll probably throw you in a cage over a pit filled with snakes or something for the rest of your life!"

"Well actually-," Lyra tried to interject.

Bonbon grabbed the unicorn around the neck, softly stroking her mane and rocking back and forth. "Shh, shh. It's okay. I won't let them take you away! Not after all the crap I went through to get you! No, they won't take my precious Lyra away."

Lyra tried to wriggle free, but the earth pony tightened her grip. "Honey, you're scaring me."

"Shh, quiet now, you've done your part. Now don't you worry your pretty little head, Mama Bonbon is gonna take care of this. Now where do we keep our ax? On second thought, I have some kitchen knives that would probably do the job just fine."

"Bonbon," Lyra tried to interrupt her.

The custard earth pony let go of Lyra, scurrying over to the "corpse" to find the way of doing this as cleanly as possible. "Yeah, we'll chop him into little pieces and bury them all over Equestria!"

"Bonbon!" Lyra said louder.

"And then we'll find some timber wolves and stuff his clothes in their den. It'll look like a random act of nature. We'll get off scot free!"

"BONBON!!"

"WHAT?! Don't interrupt me while I'm covering up your murderous tendencies! Now go get five gallons of hydrochloric acid!" Bon Bon ran out of the conspiracy room, rummaging for a second in a pile of stuff. Bringing out a rusty wood ax, she charged back in to begin hacking at his corpse.

"He's not dead!"

The blade of the ax hung mere inches from the human's chest. "Not...dead?"

Lyra wrenched the ax from Bonbon's hoof with her magic. "No! He just has enough sedative in him to stop a charging bull minotaur. At least that's what the ad said. One shot drop or my bits back."

Bonbon settled down, sitting on a stool and holding a hoof to her chest. "For Celestia's sake, Lyra. Don't scare me like that. I thought you murdered him and was getting ready to carve him up like a bar of soap!"

"No, he's absolutely fine. Well, I hope he is, he is out pretty cold." Taking a step closer to Bonbon, Lyra cocked an eyebrow. "Would you really have hacked up the corpse of a foreign dignitary, dissolved him in acid, and framed his death on timber wolves, just to protect me?"

Bonbon bit her lip, nodding slowly. Lyra smiled broadly. "I love you, Bonbon. Come on, let's wait til dark and dump him in some alleyway."

"Aren't you going to examine him or something? I mean, it's not everyday that your life long dream comes true right before your eyes. And if we're going to prison for this, might as well make it worth it."

Lyra kissed her beloved on the cheek again. "You always know just what to say. Now pass me that hypodermic needle and those shears. I want to get a few samples before we return him to the wild."


*************************************************


Hours later, under the cover of darkness, they loaded the still drugged human into the back of Bonbon's cart, Lyra slipping inside as well. Dressed mane to hoof in all black spandex suits, they would try to do this as quickly and quietly as possible.

"Heh, and you said I was thinking with my mind in the gutter when I bought these. I told you these suits would come in handy," Lyra jested to Bonbon.

"Come in what now?"

Lyra levitated an unconscious human hand. "Handy, get it?" She dropped it down with a thud, crouching down as Bonbon began to pull her wagon. 

"Okay, so apparently he lives with Twilight Sparkle in that weirdo tree library down the way. Just dump him on the doorstep as I run us by," Bonbon said as she hissed the plan to Lyra.

Lyra nodded at the plan, staying low to avoid too many witnesses at this time of night. Bonbon picked up speed, the bumpiness of the wagon nearly throwing Lyra off her hooves. Careening down the midnight streets of Ponyville, they soon came upon the odd tree library where Lyra's fellow Canterlot native lived. Dropping the tailgate on the wagon, Lyra readied herself. 

And as Bonbon brought them zooming past the door, she shoved the inert form out of the back of the wagon. A little too hard it seemed, and Lyra winced as she saw the unconscious form land head on in a rose bush by the door, entangling deep in the thorny bush. "Ouch, that's gonna sting." 

Turning back to Bonbon, she gave the all clear sign, and the pair of mares wheeled their cart about, heading back to the relative safety of their shared house.


**************************************************


The first rays of light peeked over the eastern horizon, the gentle warmth falling on the still unconscious figure sticking comically out of a rose bush in front of Twilight Sparkle's house. 

For the first time in a day, he began to move, groaning and shifting. "Oh...my head, OW, ooh, OUCH, DAMN IT!" Disentangling himself from the tight grip of the rose bush, he fell back on his buttocks, holding his pounding head with his hands and trying to pluck out all the stray thorns in his skin. 

The door to the library opened, a certain lavender unicorn walking out with a cup of coffee levitated in her aura. Taking a nonchalant sip, she regarded the human sitting on her stoop with a lack of concern. "Well then, did you have fun last night?"

"Fun where, Twilight? I don't even remember anything past about noon." 

Twilight raised an eyebrow. "Really? I thought you were out drinking or licking salt or whatever it is you humans do for fun. Pinkie Pie was crushed that you didn't show up to her party, by the way. She wouldn't stop staring out the window, waiting for you to show up and apologize for being late."

Aaron shook his head, remembering that he had missed his own welcoming party. He would be lucky if he could be around Pinkie without her using those dejected, puppy dog eyes that asked 'why?'."Oh crap. You gonna finish that cup of Joe?"

Twilight passed it over to him, the human gulping the still burning hot coffee down. The unicorn sat down next to her friend on the stoop. "So what did happen? I mean, other than rudely not showing up at your own party and not telling anypony where you were or what you were doing."

Aaron rubbed his chin with a finger. "You know, I have the strangest feeling that it's not my fault."

Twilight rolled her eyes. "Typical male. Even across the species boundary it's always the same story."

"This time it's not a lie. I was heading out to the woods to do...you know, omnivore stuff. I ran into Apple Bloom and her friends along the way, had a nice little bit of fun with them, and then made my way to the pond Fluttershy told me about."

"The one where she gets all the fish for her minks and weasels and such?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Anyways, I fished for a few minutes when a potato flew through the air and landed near me. Strangest thing ever. And then, I got hit with a dart in my ass! Things went black, and the next thing I know, I'm stuck in your rose bush. Which I'm sorry about destroying, by the way."

Twilight looked rather confused. "So you blacked out, huh? That might just explain your new haircut and your new earring."

Aaron snapped to full attention. "Wait, WHAT?!" Standing up, he turned around and looked at the library window to see his reflection. A large swath of his hair had been buzzed from his head, and a large plastic tag hung from his ear. Grabbing the tag, he flipped it over on his earlobe. "Number seven? Son of a bitch! I've been cataloged!"


*************************************************


'Nope, haven't seen a thing!'

That was the official status Mrs and Mrs Heartstrings maintained when they received some visitors at their door the next morning. Bonbon's old business enemy, Pinkie Pie, had apparently gone door to door asking about her absent human friend. If somepony missed a Pinkie Pie palooza, they were sure to be hunted down and dragged to the next one by the overly energetic mare. 

So when she came to their door, bouncing up and down with a concerned look on her face, Bonbon just threw on a fake smile and said she hadn't seen a thing, silently cursing the prying pink mare that was the bane of her candy business. So she was more concerned about her business than the imminent investigation into the human ambassador's abduction, so what? It kept her stress down and made both mares look less conspicuous.

As punishment, Lyra had to scrub all the mud stains from the floor with her toothbrush, and since they had been so distracted, her favorite stew had cooked too long and was a pot of mush by the time they remembered. And to pile insult onto injury, Bonbon had gone completely frigid in the bedroom and swore that Lyra wasn't getting any for the next ten months, if they managed to avoid prison that long.

Finishing up the last mud stain and laying out some fresh potpourri to hopefully dampen the smell, Lyra lay back on the couch, sitting like she guessed the human ambassador did. It seemed so odd, all her life she had waited for what happened yesterday, and now it just seemed like another bump in the road. She felt the aftershock of it, but it seemed small and a passing thing. Maybe now she could approach it in public, if she could ever break through that barrier of apprehension. 

Leaning back, she sighed in admiration. Everything that creature did was just so majestic. Sinking back into the cushions, Lyra came close to taking a small nap when a thunderous knock shook the front door. 

Oh crap oh crap oh crap! It's the Guards! What do I do, what do I do?! Lyra thought frantically. Hearing the same thunderous knock, Bonbon poked her head out of the kitchen. 

Lyra frantically signed with her hooves for Bonbon to get the door. Bonbon silently mouthed back, You get it!

Lyra shook her head frantically, mouthing back. I don't want to get arrested!

Grinding her teeth and rolling her eyes, Bonbon trotted over to the door, taking a deep breath before opening it. She breathed a sigh of relief that it was just Twilight Sparkle. 

"Hello, Ms Sparkle. Come to pick up a few of your favorite caramel filled chocolates?" Bonbon asked, relieved that it hadn't been the local law enforcement. 

Twilight bit her lip, wondering how to say this. "Actually, Bonbon, I'm here to see Lyra."

Lyra's relief turned back to a freezing cold feeling in the pit of her stomach, like she had swallowed a chunk of ice. With a bead of sweat coming down her brow, Bonbon turned to Lyra. "Oh dearest, we have a visitor."

With her limbs shaking like jelly, Lyra walked over to the doorway to meet with her fellow Canterlot native. Putting on the most convincing smile she could, Lyra greeted the librarian. "Hello Twilight, how can I help you this fine day?"

"Actually, Lyra. I'm not here to talk to you, he is." Stepping aside, a very tall figure filled Lyra's doorframe, easily a foot and a half taller than herself. His whipcord muscles bulged under that peachy skin, making him even more intimidating.

And he looked positively pissed.

Extending a clenched fist, he dropped something onto Lyra's doormat. The little yellow tag she had affixed to his ear yesterday looked melted and crushed, and a small speck of blood decorated it.

Raising a hoof, Lyra awkwardly waved. "Um, hi. I'm Lyra."

He extended a hand out again, holding his palm flat in front of Lyra's muzzle. A sense of bedazzlement entered Lyra's eyes, and she longed to just rub those glorious fingers across her face.

"...hand...," she said dreamily, a goofy smile spreading across her face.

"Give it back," the human growled.

The stars in Lyra's eyes vanished. "You can talk!" she exclaimed.

"Of course I can talk! I can't be the ambassador of my species if I can't talk! Now give it back!"

"Give what back?" Lyra asked, honestly confused as to what he was talking about.

"Oh, judging by how weak I am right now, the pint of my blood that you stole! Not to mention the bald patch that you left on my head!"

Lyra's ears fell flat, her eyes wide at the creature of her dreams that was tearing her a new one. "How do you know it was me? I-it could have been anypony!"

Staring her down, the human's eyes took on a glow, his outstretched hand erupting with a dancing green flame. If he looked angry before, now he looked like he could shatter bones with a stare, and the magic flowing from his stunning hands might just be capable of that. "Holy Celestia, you can do magic!" She looked back at his glaring eyes, practically ablaze with magic. "Okay, it was me. But-but-but I can make this up to you! How does that sound?" Lyra asked hopefully, hoping she could salvage this.

"You shot me, TWICE."

Lyra rubbed a hoof on her neck. "I didn't know the proper dosage."

"You kidnapped me and dragged me through town."

"Okay, I can explain-"

"Did god-knows-what to me while I was unconscious!"

Lyra cringed under his verbal assault.

"Stole my blood and cut off my hair, and finally dumped me in a rosebush! AND YOU THINK YOU CAN MAKE THIS UP TO ME?! Just give me back my blood and my hair, and I won't press charges!"

Lyra was close to tears, her eyes watering at the sheer ferocity of how her dream creature had just talked to her. Turning around, she dejectedly walked to her basement, levitating the jar of blood and the hair samples in her aura. Taking them back upstairs she held them out for the human. Swiping the samples, he tucked them away in his pocket and left without another word.

Twilight glanced at Lyra with a sorrowful gaze, knowing her fascination with humans and knowing how badly she had screwed up her first impression with the only human in Equestria at the moment. Shaking her head, Twilight trotted after the long striding human.

Holding back her tears, Lyra charged up the stairs in the hallway, slamming her bedroom door behind her and weeping into her pillow. It was all her fault, all her dreams and an entire lifetime of being 'that weirdo with the crazy obsession' had boiled down to her royally bucking it up.

Lyra's pillow became soggy from her tears, and it could not completely mask her sobs. The door to the bedroom creaked open, and the bed sagged when Bonbon sat down at the edge.

"Lyra?"

"Go away! I bucked up, I deserve this! I made another bad decision, and now everypony hates me!"

Bonbon stroked her striped mint green mane. "Honey, it could have been worse. You gave him what he wanted, and he won't press charges."

Lyra leaned out of her soggy pillow, her normally amber eyes red and puffy from crying. "He's the only human I'll ever know, and now he hates me!"

Bonbon cradled the unicorn to her chest. "Oh Lyra, nopony hates you. And besides, you were right and everypony else was wrong about his kind. Isn't that something in itself?"

Lyra shook her head. "All my life I've wanted to meet a human, sometimes I've even dreamed about what it was like to be one. And now, the first human to appear in Celestia-knows-how-long doesn't like me."

Bonbon lay down on  the bed next to her wife, hugging Lyra to her gently. "We catch more flies with honey, Lyra. We'll just have to work twice as hard next time. After all, it's the last impression that matters the most. Maybe in a couple of months we'll look back at this and laugh, and maybe he will too."

Lyra sniffled, wiping her eyes with a hoof. "You always know just what to say."


**********************************************************


Aaron dumped the jar of his blood somewhere in the outskirts of Ponyville and tossed the hair into the trash. It wasn't so much that he wanted it back, it was the principle of the matter. She had stolen from him, and he wanted justice for her injustice to him. He didn't quite understand why Lyra was so crushed about his visit, but hey, she wouldn't spend a day in prison for it. 

Working his way back to the library, he adjourned downstairs to his temporary quarters while he looked for a nice place to build a home for himself. Laying back he tried to drown out the world with some of the heaviest music on his mp3 player. Unfortunately, when the world itself is a Chatty Kathy, she's kind of hard to ignore.

Say your prayers little one
Don't forget, my son
To include everyone

Tuck you in, warm within
Keep you free from sin
Till the sandman he comes

Sleep with one eye open
Gripping your pillow tight

Exit light
Enter night
Take my hand
Aaron you could have really handled that better.

"Wait a damn minute, that's not the original lyrics." He thumbed over to another song, a more docile one from the early twentieth century.

I say I'll move the mountains
And I'll move the mountains
If he wants them out of the way
Crazy he calls me
Sure, I'm crazy
She's over there crying her eyes out right now

"Son of a bitch!" He thumbed over to a pure instrumental piece. "Gotcha now!"

Good evening ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to dedicate this song to a little guy friend of mine.
He's a cruel, selfish jerk who just shattered the hopes and dreams of a lovely young lady.

"Alright! You win! What do you want now?"

The strangely feminine voice shifted from his music player and into his very thoughts.

I want you to apologize to that poor girl.

"No way, I reserve my right as a living being to be pissed off when someone steals my vital fluids! Unlike you, Miss Deity, I need my blood to survive!"

Oh pooh, you would have made more. But she can't make a new life long dream that everyone else will think is crazy and impossible.

"You'd be surprised at what people are capable of."

A flood of images from the past flew into his mind; mostly of wars, diseases, poverty, and finishing with a mushroom cloud.

Don't remind me. But we're past that. That was the point of me guiding Twilight to you, so you could change what people perceived as human nature. And to reinforce that change, you should apologize to Lyra.

Aaron rolled over on his cot, holding his pillow over his head in a futile attempt to drown out the voice of Mother. "Okay, I'll apologize! But I'll do it on my own terms and when I feel as though she has earned it."

Fair enough.
> Making Amends (Or at least trying.)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The days trickled by for Lyra, and at such a seemingly slow pace too. After her unfortunate encounter with the ambassador, she had to make a huge decision in her life. 

Trotting downstairs to her secret room, no longer secret by anypony's standards, she levitated a trash bag and began to fill it with her propaganda clippings, her plaster tracks, even tearing down the map that adorned an entire wall. All it went into the garbage bag, and all of it would be on the curb come pickup day. 

"Lyra, what are you doing?"

Lyra turned around, seeing Bonbon enter her private room with a sense of worry. She looked around at the barren walls and shelves, and saw the pain with which Lyra discarded an entire lifetime of work.

"I'm moving on, Bonbon. I was right, they are real, they even have their own nation. I don't need any of this anymore," she said with regret heavy in her voice as she pushed an old book into her garbage bag. 

"Honey, I know this is what made you happy. Are you sure that you want to just give it up so readily?"

Lyra sighed deeply. "It never made me happy, all this crazy obsession of mine did was keep me occupied and waste my time. Did I ever even tell you why I started believing in them, anyways?"

Bonbon shifted uncomfortably on her hooves. "You said it had to do with your lyre, but you never really went into detail."

Lyra tied off the current trash bag, opening another. "Yeah. When I was a little filly, I had trouble finding my cutie mark. And even when I attended school, I was always 'that weirdo', even before I knew about humans. I didn't make many friends, and I tried to cover that up by being tough and outspoken. But nopony ever really saw much in me. Until one day when we had an introduction to music course. And in the back of the music room, where nopony ever really went looking for an instrument, was this dusty, beaten lyre that hadn't been touched in years. The music teacher said that nopony wanted to play it, because the lyre was something that nopony could ever master. And I picked it up, and I strummed on that lyre. I plucked those strings like there was no tomorrow. And you know what? A little flash of light came from my flank, and suddenly I knew what I was meant to do in life."

"And what does that have to do with humans?"

Lyra gave a small smile as she tied up the second bag of trash. "Well, a few weeks after discovering my talent, I got to wondering. Why does nopony ever master the lyre? It's such a hard instrument to play, even with magic. And if it's so difficult for ponies to play, then ponies couldn't have invented it. That's the point where I began to do research. I poured myself into long hours at the library, trying to find the earliest uses of the lyre, and what race might have originally invented it. Gryphon claws can pluck the strings, but they almost always snap them when they try, so gryphons were off the list. Diamond dogs have the proper equipment to do it, but there has never been a racial need to create music with diamond dogs. And eventually, I came to the minotaurs. Their long, strong fingers are perfect for the job, and there are even lyres in their artwork. So by a stroke of luck I found a minotaur scholar on sabbatical in Canterlot, and I asked him if the minotaurs made the lyre. He said they didn't, they found the designs on an ancient fresco in their island capital at Knossos."

Lyra trotted out of the room, levitating something in with her magic. Folding it out, it turned out to be a sheet music stand. Walking back out, she brought back in a pair of velvet pillows, placing them on the floor. "And the old bull was kind enough to show me a picture of the fresco. On it were the outlines of creatures I had never seen before, strange creatures that stood upright, played the lyre and made sport of jumping over bulls. And I asked him what they were, and he told me that nopony knew what they were, that they were possibly mythological or fairy tales for little calves."

"Humans," Bonbon said quietly.

"Yup, those archaic humans jumping over a bull were the first time I had ever been truly fascinated with something. I saw another fresco, one with them playing a lyre. Even though it was frozen in time by the artist, I felt as though I could see their fingers slowly plucking the strings. So natural, so easy for them. And once I moved out of my parent's house and started saving money, I began to travel to find out where I might find more of these creatures who made the most impossible instrument for a pony to master seem like foal's play. Six years of travelling, six years of searching and finding nothing but the barest hints. I soon learned one common fact in the mythologies of all the places I went, that the creatures hadn't been seen in two millenia at the least. And when I came home to Canterlot, I looked in the Royal Library and found one word that changed my life forever, human. And you know the rest."

Levitating her bags of garbage out into the basement, Lyra looked at her remodeled conspiracy room. A pair of pillows sat on the floor, and sheet music stand between them. Posters of musical notes and simple songs decorated the walls, and a few of the easier to play instruments rested on the shelves. "Well, what do you think? I'm going to start giving lessons again, and put that silly little phase behind me."

Bonbon seemed to snap out of her fugue. "Lyra, I applaud you wanting to start giving music lessons again. But you can't just call your entire life a 'silly little phase'. Believing in humans was what made you....well, you!"

"Bonbon, a few days ago I got the ultimate wake up call! I've been acting like a stubborn little filly for fifteen years, it was about time I grew up. I may have been right, but what did that do for me? Did I get some reward or some kind of recognition? No! I just committed felony assault and battery on a creature I've wanted to see since I first picked up the lyre. I've been selfish, Bonbon, and I don't want to be a bad wife anymore. I put both our reputations and our lives on the line with my stupid, foolish little obsession. Don't you see? I'm doing this for both of us. And besides, I don't want to be known as 'that weirdo' anymore. I just want to be Lyra."

Bonbon nodded solemnly, accepting Lyra's decision to move on with her life, to give up her insanity and just be a normal pony for once. Grabbing one of the bags, Bonbon hefted it onto her back. But before she could walk it up the stairs, it ripped and a book came tumbling out. 

Setting down the bag, Bonbon took a look at the book. It was positively ancient, and the weathered surface had been cared for untold years by each person that had owned it. "Lyra, what's this one?"

Lyra dropped her bag to take a look. "Oh yeah, that's an old book of fairy tales. Each one tells its own little story and gives a lesson on life. A lot of the characters are humans. I think I may have borrowed it from Granny Smith or somepony else."

Bonbon lifted the ancient book with care. "But why throw it out? I mean, something like this could be really special or even valuable."

"Mm, okay. We can keep this one. Mostly because it isn't junk like the rest of this." Lyra levitated the ancient book upstairs and placed it in her bookshelf, hauling the rest of her junk to the garbage can. And indeed it was junk, why dwell on footprints and articles written by crackpot theorists when the real thing was her neighbor? And though she was technically the last pony Mr Patterson ever wanted to see again, and she felt terrible about the entire ordeal, Lyra felt like she should make it up to him, or at least try to wane his disposition to her. 

After a little bit of time had passed, of course.


****************************************************


Weeks passed, and everypony began to get used to the strange bipedal creature that walked freely in their town. Apparently he was not only the ambassador of his race, he was some kind of doctor, though not of medicine. At least that's what the grapevine said. After obliterating most traces of her old life and old obsession, Lyra had taken her sweet time posting flyers around Ponyville, advertising her music lessons for colts and fillies of all ages. 

With the extra money coming in, Lyra and Bonbon felt like they could relax and indulge a little more. Lyra had never been much of a girly-girl, but she discovered that she had a curiosity for the spa one day after Bonbon had said she was going.

"Are you sure, Lyra? The spa is kind of a fru-fru place, and you're more...rough and tumble."

"Hey, what's the worst that could happen? I get a hooficure and I smell nice for my Candyass, big deal."

Bonbon blushed at her bedroom name, the one Lyra screamed some nights. (That's right, Lyra is a screamer. But their mostly stallion neighbors have strangely never complained.)

Bonbon threw on a nice, frilly hat that was one of  Rarity's creations, and proudly walked out the door with Lyra in tow towards the spa. "You'll have to try the clay facial, Lyra. It just cleans out your pores after a nice soak in a hot herbal bath. And of course we'll get our hooves trimmed and cleaned, and it just wouldn't be a day at the spa without a little work on the mane!" 

As Bonbon prattled on about what she liked best about going to the spa, Lyra let her mind wander a little. Dr Patterson was the only human living in Ponyville, but he wasn't the only human left in the world by far. So maybe she hadn't completely blown her chances. If there were enough humans out there to form their own nation and require representation in Canterlot, there had to be lots of them. Maybe she would have a better chance with some other human. 

But as she and her wife trotted towards the spa, Lyra saw an opportunity to make things a little better with the one human she knew. Dr Patterson himself was dragging a rather large cart full of lumber and building supplies, and appeared to be having trouble with it. "I'll catch up with you," Lyra said to her partner.

Approaching cautiously, Lyra altered her posture to appear as inoffensive as possible. "Um, hiya neighbor. Need a hand?"

Dr Patterson glared out of the corner of his eye. "I'll tell you when I see some hands that aren't mine."

"Ha ha ha!" she fake laughed, weeping on the inside for her lack of glorious digits. "That's a good one there. So, um, need any help?"

"I've got it," he growled, pulling on the small wagon and trudging down the street. Lyra felt like he wasn't as hostile as he could have been, which was a good sign. Taking up a light trot, she followed him, though not too closely.

"So, uh, what kind of a name is Patterson?"

"What kind of a name is Heartstrings?" he growled back.

"Point taken," Lyra said back. "So what is your doctorate in? I mean, my good friend Dr Whooves does all kinds of stuff, and he has several doctorates."

"Evolutionary Biology," he said through clenched teeth, barely tolerating the mare's presence.

Lyra had no inkling as to what an Evolutionary Biologist did or why one would become the ambassador of the human race, so as she trotted alongside the human pulling his cart, she tried something else. "So, whatcha building?"

"A bird house."

Lyra looked at the massive pile of lumber in the cart. "What kind of bird could you be building that for?"

"It's a rare bird called 'none of your business'."

Had any other person besides him said that, Lyra would have knocked him flat out and kept one of his teeth as a trophy. But like Bonbon said, you win more flies with honey. Reaching into her saddlebags with her magic, she pulled out a small box. "So, do you like candy? Bonbon makes the absolute best chocolates this side of Canterlot, and I just happened to have an extra box."

He stopped pulling the cart for a moment, turning his head and raising an eyebrow. Lyra had to control her smile as he took the box from her aura and opened it. 

Score one for Lyra! Note to self, humans like candy!

He took a whiff of the chocolate candies within. "Do I smell coconut?"

Lyra nodded eagerly. "You sure do!"

He gave her a deadpan expression, closing the lid. "I hate coconut."

Something inside of Lyra snapped in frustration, and her eye began to twitch. "Well then, maybe Twilight will like them."

"Doubtful, she likes caramel, and so do I."

Lyra tried to think of who he knew that would like it. "Well, maybe...um..Rarity would enjoy them."

His deadpan expression never wavered. "Truffle."

"Fluttershy?" she asked, growing more desperate.

"Cherry."

Rainbow Dash?"

"Peanut butter."

"Pinkie Pie?"

"Allergic to coconut. And before you say Applejack, think for a moment."

Lyra positively fumed at her failed attempts, and she could almost feel the steam coming from her ears.

Despite her grinding teeth, Lyra managed to choke out, "Well, I have to go now, nice chatting with you." Bolting off towards the salon, Lyra threw open the doors, charged past Lotus and Aloe as they tried to greet her, and shoved her face completely underwater in the herbal bath. A dulled scream of frustration could be heard by all the ponies in the spa, the bubbles furiously churning around Lyra's head.

A bath-robed and mud smeared Bonbon pulled her out before she could drown herself. "Lyra! What in Celestia's name are you doing?"

"Of all the unique flavors that you make, you made the one he hates! Coconut, damn you coconut!" Lyra shrieked to the heavens.


***************************************************


Five days passed since the infamous 'coconut scandal'. Well, it was infamous in Lyra's book. Nopony else really knew or cared. But she continued to give music lessons to the colts and fillies of Ponyville. A difficult thing to do, since most of them stopped coming after not earning music cutie marks.

Things seemed to be tanking for Lyra's little homebound music classes, and it was starting to show. She hadn't had a single appointment in three days, and her sagging eyelids told a story of complete boredom at home. Without human chasing as her hobby, she really had nothing to do but lean back in her couch and strum on the lyre with her magic.

Even the smell of melted chocolate, normally something that drove her mad with hunger, was starting to smell repugnant as it constantly drifted in from the kitchen. Bonbon bustled in, her apron covered in small chocolate stains. 

"Lyra, even though the ambiance is nice, I think you should try going out or something. I mean, how long has it been since you left that couch?"

Lyra shifted a little bit. Judging by the perfectly formed mold the couch left around her flank and the amount of sweat down there, at least nine hours. "Meh," Lyra replied.

Bonbon trotted over to her, pushing the unicorn off the couch. "Alright, lazy bones, you're gonna go take a bath and then we're going grocery shopping. It'll give you something to do."

Lyra grumbled as she shoved her lyre back in its case. Taking a quick bath, she left the house with a full purse and empty saddlebags. To her surprise, it was still fairly early as both mares took a leisurely and lazy walk through Ponyville towards the market.

Bonbon checked the list in her hoof, making sure she had written down everything she needed at the various market stalls. "M'kay, we need some apples, carrots, potatoes, some more toilet paper, a few heads of lettuce, and about a pound of white chocolate for me. Did I miss anything, Lyra?"

"Eh," Lyra grunted back, having to shield her eyes from the late morning glare.

"Lyra! Speak like a civilized pony!" Bonbon hissed back.

Lyra grumbled to herself. "Coffee beans."

"Coffee beans, how could I forget?" Bonbon scribbled that down on the list. Taking her wife on the circuit of the market stalls, Lyra thought about her melancholy, and why she was having this crisis in her life. Walking just behind Bonbon, she tried to think of a way to overcome this early life crisis. Maybe she needed a change of scenery? No, wait, that was why she moved to Ponyville, that, and she had traveled quite a bit in the past.

Perhaps she needed a new hobby? Probably not, her lyre practice was enough for anypony. Heck, she was even thinking about tossing her name around Canterlot, maybe seeing if she could get an agent to book her for some posh gala or something. There was just something missing in her life, and for once, it wasn't humans. 

Bonbon continued to chatter as she shopped, weighing down Lyra's saddlebags with groceries. Occasionally the unicorn would say 'uh huh' or 'really?' just to avoid the suspicion that she wasn't listening. Bonbon never seemed to catch on, even commenting at one point as to how good of a listener Lyra had become.

"Lyra!" Bonbon shrieked, her face glowering at the unicorn.

"Huhwhowhat!?" the unicorn stammered, coming out of her mental distraction.

"I just asked you what you thought about seeing a play next week and you answered 'really'!"

"Oh, um, uh huh?" Lyra answered sheepishly. Bonbon groaned, rolling her eyes and trotting towards her favorite cafe for a late morning cup of tea and maybe some small tea biscuits.

Ordering a cup for herself and her partner, Bonbon groaned as she sat down on her plush pillow, rubbing her hooves as if she had been doing all the heavy lifting. Meanwhile, Lyra set down her bulging and sagging saddlebags, sighing with relief as they fell to the ground. "Ah, such a nice morning for a walk. Speaking of walking, did I tell who walked into the store yesterday? It was your friend Golden Harvest, and you know who was with her? Comet Tail! That's right, Comet Tail! I don't know if they're an issue or not but I have to say they look cute together. I always heard Ms Harvest was more into pegasus ponies, something about the cloudwalking." Lyra managed to smile a little bit at the juicy gossip, even though she never really got in on it. "So, did I break your spell of melancholy or are you still a Depressed Daisy?" Bonbon asked.

"Okay, I would have answered the second one, if it wasn't so cutesy and kind of demeaning."

Bonbon sighed. "What am I going to do with you Lyra? What can I do to pull you out of this?"

"Not much you can do," the minty mare replied. "Just have to power through this on my own."

"Is this still about the Ambassador? I heard a pegasus chariot stopped by a few days ago and he went along with them. Ms Sparkle was grumbling something about a "Civil War" that he still needed to tell her about when she came in to buy some candy yesterday."

Lyra sighed, propping her head onto a hoof and staring out at the marketplace. "It's not him anymore. It's just...what do I do with my life, huh? I mean, I never really planned for anything. I figured I would just play the lyre at a few parties, maybe even an orchestra or two, and just chase humans for the rest of my life. I'm a little bit too old to start thinking about my career, and I'm too young and don't have the money to just ride out life."

The unicorn sighed at the quandary of this crisis. She'd completed her life's entire purpose, married the mare of her dreams (much to her parent's protest and chagrin), and now all she had to look forward to was going to bed at night. What could she do? Start a new business? That couldn't work, she wasn't an entrepreneur. Take a vacation? Nope, that would just delay the imminent fall back to this rut. 

The whistle of a familiar song snapped Lyra out of her fugue, and a familiar biped walked cheerily past, not noticing Lyra. The unicorn dove under the table to hide herself, lest she ruin his apparently good day by just being around.

"Lyra! What are you doing this time?" Bonbon asked quietly to not draw any attention. 

"Shh! Look, he's so happy right now, and I don't want to spoil Mr Patterson's day by just being around, okay?"

Bonbon forcibly yanked Lyra out from under the table, pushing her back onto her pillow. "Alright, I can't take this anymore! You take this box of chocolates," Bonbon placed a box of her specialty candies onto the table, caramel this time, "And you go make a damn good impression on that man! Its been days since you last talked, and I don't know a pony that can easily hold a grudge that long."

"That's the problem, he's not a pony! HE'S A BUCKING HUMAN! And from some rumor I heard, he personally held a pretty mean grudge against Princess Luna for two thousand years." 

Bonbon rolled her eyes, slapping a hoof to her forehead. "Lyra, do you know how ridiculous that sounds? Nopony can live that long except a Princess. Look at him, does he look as old as Princess Celestia?" 

Lyra leaned over to glance at the whistling human being as he walked with a bounce in his step towards Sugarcube Corner. "Well, not really I guess. But I haven't seen another human to compare his age to. For all we know, he could just be in some kind of larval stage, or he could possibly be two millenia old," Lyra said to stall for time. She had given up on her dream of having a human friend. And he seemed to have almost forgotten about his kidnapping and mild torture at the hooves of Lyra. But constantly pestering him was something that she had decided wasn't something she wanted to do to the ambassador of Equestria's newest allies.

"Lyra, you give that man this box of candies, or I won't do that one thing anymore."

Lyra gasped loudly, and despite her normal boldness in public, she blushed. "You wouldn't dare! You enjoy that as much as I do! And besides, he just walked into Sugarcube Corner, he won't want anymore sweets!"

Bonbon began to pull the box of chocolates back into her saddlebag. "Fine, I can go cold turkey."

Lyra began to sweat, seriously considering the health of her bedroom life. "Wait! You win." Lyra grabbed the box of chocolates in her aura, standing from the table and trotting away. "Stupid sexy Bonbon," she muttered under her breath.

Lyra tried to mentally prepare herself for this, something that she almost never had to do, not even when she proposed to Bonbon. Okay, I can do this, he's just a human. Wait, just?! What in the flaming Gates of Tartarus am I thinking?! Of course he's a human! But he's not just some human, Dr Patterson is some kind of magic using, species saving, war ending,  and race representing human! Oh goddess, my legs are shaking!

Indeed Lyra's knees had once again become like jelly, and the closer she got to the door of Sugarcube Corner, the thinner that jelly got. Dr Patterson himself stood at the counter of the bakery, chatting mildly with Pinkie Pie. Sweat poured down the unicorn's brow, and her shaking limbs were a trembling blur underneath her with how nervous she was.

"On second thought, I can live without," Lyra reasoned to herself, spinning around and bolting for the cafe patio where Bonbon sat. The custard earth pony shook her head in disapproval. 

"And to think I praised you for your boldness. You've gone soft, honey bun."

Lyra sat down, slamming her face onto the table and sighing. "Maybe I'll try quilting or something...." Lifting her head up, she heard something that was common in the town of Ponyville, the trundle of carriage wheels on the packed earth of the streets and markets. But her instincts told her that there was something different about this as a wagon pulled into town square. 

It was a long distance carriage, one that ponies would use when traveling over huge expanses at a leisurely pace. And for some reason, this carriage seemed taller and made for a longer trip. Two burly earth ponies pulled the wagon, coming to rest in the center of town, breathing a sigh of relief that their trip was over. 

And when the door to that carriage opened, Lyra lightly bit her own leg to make sure this was not a dream. 

"Are you seeing what I am seeing?" Bonbon asked quietly.

"Another human," Lyra whispered. 

He was another human being, a male that looked older and stronger than the one she already knew. His short, dark hair was peppered with grey, but he looked like he could still take on a much younger and more spry man. But the two mares were not the only ones to notice the new arrival. The door to Sugarcube Corner burst open, the brass bell nearly being taken off the wall as Dr Patterson ran out to greet his fellow human.

Both met in the town square, damning formality and tossing dignity to the wind. Aaron threw both arms around the other man's shoulders, his fellow returning the crushing hug. The younger man whispered something into his fellow's ear, and they broke apart, giving a more dignified handshake as well as some of the most sincere smiles that Lyra had ever seen.

And once they got over the thrill of seeing one another, the older male opened the door to the carriage, offering a hand to somebody inside. A more slender, delicate creature stepped out, long black hair gently caressing her more shapely body. Even across the barrier of species, there were just aspects of that creature that seemed enchanting and beautiful, even though she was dressed in such simple clothing as a skirt and a button up blouse.

"Is that.....a female human?" Lyra said to nopony but herself. But something about the female human caught her eye more than anything. Resting in her arms was a small bundle of swaddled cloth, a chubby pink face poking out. The female gently rocked the bundle in her arms, softly coddling the small creature. "Oh my goddess, it's a human foal. They're a.....family."

Lyra's stare of incredulousness began to change into something else, a smile of pure joy. Her eyes shimmered as she and Bonbon both looked on at the immigrant human family. A thought occurred to Lyra, and she grabbed the box of candies, levitating them in her aura and proudly trotting over to the carriage. 

"Lyra! What are you doing!?" Bonbon hissed as her partner walked away with her head held high. 

The unicorn stopped, flashing a joyous grin to her love. "Going to meet the new neighbors. We don't want to be rude, now do we?"

Bonbon looked unsure of herself, only having interacted with a human once or twice when the ambassador came to buy candy. Nervously she joined Lyra and trotted over to the wagon. Dr Patterson and his fellow human male stood off to one side, chatting idly. 

Even as she got closer, the human female seemed to just become even more beautiful. Not in a way that invoked lust in the unicorn; no, this was the pure beauty of motherhood, the love between mother and child that spilled over into the world around them, brightening the day and bringing smiles to everypony's face.

Lyra thought about what she might say. She had screwed up her first contact with the first human she knew, and she was not going to buck this up again. She decided that it was easiest to just go with a casual greeting.

"Hello there!" she said to the female human. Unlike her husband, who seemed almost uneasy around so many ponies, the woman looked down at her with a generous smile and glittering eyes that displayed far more trust than Lyra had ever received in a first greeting. "My name is Lyra, and I would like to be the first to welcome you to Ponyville. This is my partner, Bonbon."

"Hello," Bonbon said sheepishly, not sure how to greet the strange human.

"Hello Lyra," the woman responded. "My name is Sara, and over there is my husband Frederick." She extended a hand, her long, delicate fingers entrancing Lyra like none had ever before. In retrospect, Aaron's hands almost seemed unwieldy and meaty as compared to Sara's long and light fingers. Holding back her eagerness, Lyra gently took the offered hand and shook it in her hoof. "And this is my sunshine and my flower, Sophia."

Though she came up to the shorter female's shoulder, Sara had to lean down a little for Lyra and Bonbon to glance at her baby. Both ponies let out a long awwww upon viewing the tiny human infant. Little Sophia opened her eyes, looking at the brightly colored ponies. The infant smiled, giving a gurgling laugh and reaching out with a tiny hand. 

"I think she likes you, Ms Lyra," the human woman remarked.

Lyra took a step closer, letting the tiny baby place her hand on her muzzle. Sophia giggled at the soft green fur of the pony. And for Lyra, something much deeper than any desire for a hobby and overcoming of any boredom awoke within her. Something she never knew she had in her. A warm and comforting feeling, something that she felt she should embrace with every moment of her life from here to eternity. And with a glance to Sara, she knew the human woman felt the same feeling as she held her own child with such care and comfort. 

A feeling that Lyra knew only through hearsay. A deep instinctive desire...for motherhood. Maternal instinct had completely taken over the unicorn, and from what she saw, Bonbon also seemed to fall under its seductive spell. Gently, Lyra leaned in and nuzzled the squirming pink baby, feeling as though she needed to protect her and provide for her.

"M'am, she's the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," Lyra said quietly. Only when she leaned back to let Bonbon nuzzle the baby did she notice something odd on the baby's forehead. "Um, this may seem like an odd question, but what's that silver mark on her head?"

Sara shrugged just a touch. "We're not sure. It's one of the reasons we came out here, so we could hopefully find some people who could help us understand it."

"Well is it a birthmark-" Lyra was cut short by something she thought she would never see. The mark on Sophia's head took on a tingling light, a light aura of sky blue encompassing a lock of Sara's hair and gently tugging on it. 

Sara grimaced as she removed her hair from her baby's arcane grasp. "No no, no pulling on Mommy's hair."

Both Lyra and Bonbon sat aghast, their jaws slack and fallen. "It's a horn," Lyra said. "Or like a horn." She thought for a moment about how normal unicorn parents went through the magic phases of their foal's development. It would be a very stressful and tumultuous upbringing for the nonmagical parents. 

Sara gently rocked her child, trying to get her back to sleep. "And to think, without Aaron I wouldn't be here today. And...well, neither would she." Sara looked with a glimmer of gratitude to the young man talking with her husband.

The door to Sugarcube Corner opened with a crash, and a gasp loud enough to startle birds in the Everfree rang in the air. "MRS COPPELL! It's me, Pinkie Pie!" The pink mare flashed over to the human woman, leaving a trail of confetti and frosting in her wake. Pinkie's frantic bouncing only got worse when she saw little Sophia. "SQUEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!! Sophie! It's me, your Auntie Pinkie!" 

The human infant giggled at the energetic and somehow familiar pink pony. "Omigoshomigosh! You've gotten so big! Did you miss your Auntie Pinkie? 'Cause I missed you! We're gonna have so much fun together, and you have to meet Pound and Pumpkin!"

"Hello Ms Pie," Sara calmly replied to the sugary mare. "I have the strangest feeling of having met you before," she said with a wink, remembering a certain event involving a transfiguration spell and a more human Pinkie Pie, along with all her friends.

While Pinkie was obsessed withe making Sophia feel welcome to her new home, even taking her inside for a quick diaper change, Lyra continued her chat with Sara. "Ehem. Anyway, my partner Bonbon makes the absolute best chocolates this side of Canterlot and I just happened to have an extra box. Once again, welcome to Ponyville." Lyra levitated the box over to Sara's waiting hand.

"Why thank you Ms Lyra." She opened the box and popped one of the chocolate delicacies into her mouth. "Mm, that is good," she complimented.

Lyra took a side step closer to her partner, giving the earth pony an affectionate nuzzle. "Only the sweetest chocolates from the sweetest mare in Ponyville, right dearest?"

"Lyra, not around the new neighbors," Bonbon said, her words saying 'no' but her tone saying 'yes'.

Finally realizing just what the relationship between the ponies in front of her was all about, Mrs Coppell blushed. "Oh! You mean that kind of partner. That is...um... different."

A little flicker of flame began to burn in Lyra's belly, tempered by years of having to publicly defend her sexual preferences for mares and stoked by the need to defend her own honor and her wife's honor. "And do you have something against filly-foolers?" she said with a certain venom.

"Filly-foolers?" the woman asked, obviously confused. 

Bonbon immediately covered for Lyra, pushing the more aggressive mare back. "A mare-mare couple. She didn't mean anything by it, right Lyra?"

Lyra snapped out of her tiff, seriously scolding herself for almost bucking this up. "I'm so sorry, it's just that I've gotten a lot of harassment for it in the past and-"

Sara raised her hands to silence Lyra. "No need to explain, I understand completely. A very close friend of mine was attracted to other men and he never did quite get the peace and quiet he deserved."

Phew, what a relief, Lyra thought to herself. "Well, this has been nice. Hope to see you and your wonderful family around town. And if you ever need somepony, sorry, somebody to chat with or just to be a friend, I live with Bonbon at the candy store."

With a few goodbyes, both mares walked back over to the cafe, Lyra feeling as though she were a thousand feet tall. She had made a friend today. And more importantly, that friend was a human. And with Sara Coppell as a friend, she couldn't care less about Dr Patterson.


********************************************


The new immigrants paid off their drivers, unloading their fairly meager supplies and taking a break inside of Sugarcube Corner. Aaron sat the Coppells down at an empty table, paying for an early lunch courtesy of the Cakes. With their daughter being carefully watched and played with by Pinkie Pie, Aaron had to get a few answers from his fellow humans. 

"So, you two need to tell me a little story. What's the news on the homefront?" he asked.

Fred stirred a little bit of sugar into his coffee, taking a slow sip before starting. "We're civilians, so they don't keep us as informed as they should, typical government. But things are going slow. Even after Equestria signed the armistice with the Republic, the military still wouldn't let us go out onto the surface for a week. I tell you what, living in those cramped vaults is a special kind of torture. But anyways, after the soldiers reported 'all clear' in our loosely defined boundaries, we were allowed to go on up and get some fresh air and exercise. After that, General McGoff got all the civilians together and stated that with huge loans from Equestrian banks, we were going to start rebuilding."

"Good," Aaron said, nodding. "And how is that coming along?"

"Well, the first thing we did was elect a basic Congress, since we don't have any defined territories yet it had to be done Roman style, by assigned tribe. And then McGoff basically got elected President in a landslide. They really wanted you to do it though. If you actually ran for office, you would have destroyed any opposition, Aaron."

One of Aaron's finger's flared with a small stream of magic, reheating his cup. "Don't buy into the hero crap, I would have made a terrible leader. My place is here, making sure everything stays chipper between Equestria and the Republic."

"I don't think those people would have cared. Anyways, after the elections the army boys started dragging out these prefabricated buildings and setting them up. But wouldn't you know it, most of them were garages, barracks and all that kind of stuff. Only a few residential style buildings. But after they got those built, the ponies started showing up."

"After only two weeks? What were they after?"

Sara took up the slack where Fred dropped off. "They were looking for work. Most of them were construction workers, architects, engineers or just laborers. They brought huge wagons full of supplies, and actually did us a favor by cutting a road through the forest and all the way to that frontier town near the Equestrian border, completely free of charge. It must have been some kind of gesture of good will."

"Appleloosa? They built a road that long in such a short time?"

She shrugged. "Industrious little guys, the ponies. Their magic makes building things incredibly easy. They didn't even bring heavy machinery, just hand tools and their muscle. And President McGoff used our limited treasury to start writing contracts and getting some homes built. There's a neat little city springing up out there, and people are starting to move back to the surface."

Sara stopped to glance over at Sophia, the little infant enjoying a tame playtime with the Cake twins under the careful eye of Pinkie. Fred picked back up where she left off. "Don't get me started on the agriculture situation out there. The soil is tough to plow, and some of our seeds won't take as well as we would like. The science divisions claim that it will be several months before the cryogenically frozen embryos will be mature enough to actually bring out and auction off. Not that we're worried about that, some of the ponies that migrated in brought flocks of chickens and geese with them and gladly sold them off."

With a particularly loud giggle from the children, Fred glanced over at the overjoyed Pinkie Pie, who struggled to liberate a doll from two sets of magical auras. "Call me crazy, but she seems incredibly familiar. She almost has the same hair as that young woman back in the hospital in Lazarus."

Aaron gave a little smile. "Let's just leave it at 'you've met before', although the circumstance was rather odd. So tell me, what are you two doing out my direction? The Republic bursting at the seams already?" he asked jokingly.

"It's not that, and it's not that we don't have any room. There's plenty of territory in Terra to settle, and there's rumors floating around the ranks that the Terran legislation is working with the Equestrian ambassador, looking for places that might make suitable colonies when our population begins to rise."

"Doesn't explain why you're here in Ponyville."

"I was getting to that," Fred commented. "The first reason we came here was because we trusted your judgement that the ponies were good and decent people. Second, we immigrated so that we might be able to understand Sophia's gift a little more, you know, unicorn magic and such. And third, we're going to start a little operation out here."

Aaron leaned back in his chair. "Oh? And what do you have in mind?"

"Fish farming," Sara replied. "The human populace is going to need protein, there's no doubt about that. And the ponies seem to have less of a stigma for us eating fish than say...beef or chicken. They're easier to raise and farm, they don't need as much space or food to grow, and we can have two shipments of fish ready by the time one shipment of cattle is ready. Cost effective and delicious, they should sell like hot cakes. And with the controlled weather around here, the climate is much more suitable for such an operation."

Aaron nodded, thinking this to be sound judgement. "Sounds good, I'll see what I can do about getting you guys a loan and maybe a breeding population of decent fish. Local fish would probably be the best place to start, I can get you some catfish to start off with if you need it."

They nodded eagerly. "Sounds great!" they replied together. Frederick reached over the table and clapped a hand on Aaron's shoulder, giving him a grateful nod. "What would we do without you, kid?"

"Don't mention it. It's all a part of the job, try to make life as easy and happy for people as possible. Still have to find you folks a place to live until we can get you a house built. And I have to talk with the Equestrian and the local governments to get you registered as citizens. It's all a very tedious process, but thankfully Equestria doesn't suffer from the bureaucratic inefficiency that we once did."

Sara took a sip of her drink, the pleasant warmth of a pony made tea making her smile after enduring the freeze dried and preserved foods in the underground human city of Lazarus. "You've done so much for us, is there anything we can do to make it up to you?"

Aaron shook his head. "Nah, it wouldn't be right if I expected something in return. All I want is for you guys to be happy and healthy, and as for learning about Sophia's gift, I'll see if I can't ask one of the Princesses a favor when she comes of age." Turning back to the playing children, Aaron summoned an orb of his magic, shaping it and forming it into something they would enjoy. Releasing a spectral green butterfly from his hand, he gave it a little breath and a little push to flutter around the delighted children.


***********************************************************


Bonbon hummed gently as her forehooves dipped into the bubbly, warm water in her kitchen sink. Holding the sponge in her hoof, she scrubbed in neat little circles on the stubborn caramel spots on her dishes. Bonbon was in a great mood, and there was one truly defining reason for that.

Lyra was happy again. 

Simply seeing something so heartwarming as an infant human was a better pick-me-up for the aquamarine mare than anything Bonbon had tried to do over the weeks. Certainly it worked better than her experimental voice changing candies. The doldrum harp plucking had ceased from the living area in the back of the shop, and Bonbon could have sworn she heard the contented hum of the unicorn daydreaming about something.

Bonbon finished scrubbing the dish in her hoof, placing it on the rack to dry while humming a little ditty. One dish down, a mountain left to go, she thought to herself, staring at the large, precarious stack of dirty dishes. Well, maybe her mood was going to take a little dip towards the 'frustrated and annoyed' end of the emotional spectrum. 

But the normal, negative aspect of her career was not going to put a damper on today. It was a truly memorable day, the one where Lyra's lifelong obsession had truly come to fruition. She had met a human, and made friends with that human.

Bonbon's thoughts were cut short when the door to the kitchen creaked open. "Oh, Lyra, could you be a dear and help me out with the dishes? I'm a bit swamped here."

The aquamarine unicorn walked slowly, yet deliberately over to the sink. "Sure thing," she replied. There was something to that reply that made Bonbon feel warm. A suggestion that Lyra had something she desired very near to her. 

Standing on her hindlegs, Lyra slipped her forelegs around the barrel of Bonbon's chest, working her hooves slowly down Bonbon's legs and into the soapy water. The warm press of the unicorn's body sent loving waves of pleasure down Bonbon's back, and she leaned back into the unicorn's embrace. 

Leaning in, Lyra slowly nuzzled the earth pony up and down her neck, pausing to drink in the candied scents of her pink and blue mane. "Lyra," Bonbon giggled. "What's gotten into you?"

Lyra placed a delicate kiss on the other mare's neck, covering her lips with a soapy hoof. "Shh, don't talk. Just let it flow." Bonbon twisted around in Lyra's hooves, pulling the other mare closer and kissing her deeply on the lips. Her tongue flicked into Lyra's mouth, tasting the gorgeous mare and all she had to offer. Lyra's hooves ran down the soft fur of her lover, caressing her along every sensitive spot. Bonbon's body was a safe, and Lyra knew just how to crack it.

Lyra's soft lips moved down Bonbon's body, gently nibbling on every inch of the warm and inviting earth pony. A moan escaped Bonbon's lips as Lyra worked her soft lips over her chest. And Bonbon knew what made Lyra reach nirvana, and with Lyra's horn hovering so close to her face, she flicked out her tongue and caressed the spiraling horn. 

Waves of warm pleasure radiated from Lyra's forehead, and she stopped to moan with the absolute pleasure that only unicorns could experience. Her amber-gold eyes caught a reflection of light coming from the neighbor's window, and Lyra could have sworn she saw a shadowy figure holding a pair of binoculars ducking down below the windowsill of the neighboring home. She stopped to give a smirk. "Let's go somewhere a little more private." 

The two mares practically ran upstairs to their bedroom, Lyra's horn glowing with magic as she closed all the curtains.


********************************************


"Ahhhh..." both mares sighed in rapturous content. 

Lyra leaned against the headboard of her bed, her hooves folded triumphantly behind her head. A victorious grin of sexual conquest adorned her flushed and warm face, and her lover's head lay draped on her chest. Lyra freed a foreleg to wrap around Bonbon's shoulder and stroke her mane.

Bonbon basked in the afterglow of this sporadic and spur of the moment passion, feeling the soft beat of Lyra's heart as her head rested on the unicorn's chest. "Lyra, that was amazing. What possessed you?"

Lyra let her expression of conquest fall, considering how to proceed from here. "I've been thinking, and I think I've finally figured out how to get out of this funk."

"Some more of that TLT? Tender loving tongue?" Bonbon said suggestively, winking and flicking out her own tongue.

Lyra responded with a quick peck on her partner's lips. "Not really. But I want for this to be for both of us, and if one of us doesn't want to do it, I can live in miserable boredom for the rest of my life."

"Oh geez, is this going to be one of those things that you will only tell me what it is after I agree to it?"

"No! Not at all. But this is something huge, something that will change both of our lives forever. And if you don't want to change your life, I can understand that."

Bonbon rolled her eyes. "Just tell me already, the suspense is killing me," she said with a tone of sarcasm.

"Bonbon..." she bit her lip, having another of her increasingly common moments of questioning herself. "I want to have a baby."

Bonbon leaned up, looking into Lyra's amber-gold eyes with with confusion and some slight amount of shock. "Lyra..."

"I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said anything," she quickly replied. "It's just that we're such a happy couple, and I want to make us more than just a couple. Bonbon, I want to be a part of a family with you. We have so much love for each other, and I want to share that love with a child that we can proudly call our own. Remember today when we saw that human baby? Do you remember what you felt when you got to see her, touch her and even when you fantasized about holding her? It just felt so...right. It just felt like it was what I was meant to do. It felt like some deep, repressed part of me got to come out and see the true beauty of life, even for a few moments."

Bonbon blinked a few times, considering what kind of a life changing responsibility it would be for both of them. "Lyra, are you sure? I mean, a child isn't a pet. We don't just have to love a child, we have to support it and help it grow. We have to be responsible with who we are, and we'll have to change our lives. And I'm not really sure if either of us are parent material."

"I've never felt so sure about anything in my life. I want to be a mom. I'll even carry the foal, and go through all the pain of childbirth. Think about it, we make more money than we can spend, and it'll be one of the greatest things we can do with our lives."

Bonbon sighed. But a tiny glimmer of a smile peeked out of the corners of her lips. She straddled Lyra, looking deep into her eyes. "To be honest, I thought you would never ask." Lyra pulled her in for a kiss, loving this mare for all she was willing to give for her partner's happiness. Cuddling with her lover, Bonbon felt guilty for what she had to say next. "Um, Lyra?"

"Yes, my honey bun?"

"If you're going to bear the foal, that means we have to find a stallion to....donate...to our cause."

Lyra's eyes shot wide open. "Shit."
> What Went Wrong?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, the pair of mares thought about how they would get a stallion to "donate" to Lyra so she could bear a foal. Considering how attractive most stallions believed the filly-foolers to be, it wouldn't be hard finding a donor. But both Lyra and Bonbon were extremely apprehensive about having a male feast on Lyra's forbidden fruit. Eating a plate of pancakes at the breakfast table, they thought about how they might go about this.

"Well, the easiest thing we could do would be to ask a stallion friend of ours. That way, we know he isn't just some sleezebag that might have some kind of venereal disease."

"No way! That would be awkward as hell! Think about it Bonbon, what if we're walking around the market one day with our foal and one of our friends walks by and says 'hi'. Then our child asks who that was and we reply 'oh, it's just your illegitimate daddy!'"

Bonbon grimaced at the thought, setting down a cup of black coffee. "Point taken." Grabbing her fork, a thought passed through the earth pony's mind, and she had to set down her cutlery with how hard she giggled. 

"What are you chortling about?"

"Oh nothing, just thought about how funny you would look getting nailed by Dr Whooves."

Lyra's jaw dropped. "That is not funny! The Doc is a good friend of mine, we've known each other since high school!"

"Oh oh, how about gettin' you some from Snowflake! YEEAAAA!!" Bonbon said in her deepest impersonation of the ripped pegasus. "I wonder if that's how he sounds when he finishes!" Bonbon clutched at her sides, threatening to roll out of her chair with laughter. "Or maybe, maybe we could get Pigpen to nail ya! I bet he likes it dirty!"

Lyra shuddered at the thought of being within five feet of the trashcan cutiemarked stallion, and felt the bile rise in her throat at the horrible image of being in bed with him. "Eyuck! Gross! You are making this too disgusting, Bonbon!"

"What? Didn't they teach you upper crust Canterlot girls sex ed? Oooh, I just thought of a good one! Maybe we could get Filthy Rich to knock you up!"

"That is wrong on so many levels! He's a married stallion!"

"Yeah, but then we have insurance just in case things start to tank for us. You know, child support and blackmail and all that fun stuff. Alright, all jokes aside for now. Since we don't want any of our friends to do you, what are we going to do?"

Lyra thoughtlessly pushed her pancakes from one side of the plate to the other. "I don't know. Maybe I can pick up a stallion at a bar or something? I mean, I do need to spend more girl time with Berry Punch. We used to be such good friends until she cut back on the drinking."

"Lyra, that eliminates that entire spiel about avoiding a sleezebag stallion who might have a venereal disease. So we can't just pick up a random stranger in a bar." 

The aquamarine unicorn leaned back in her chair, groaning at the surprising difficulty of this. "What if we just posted a discreet ad in the Equestria Daily? You know, back in the personals section? We could throw in that we need a discreet, disease free stallion for commitment-free impregnation. We could even ask that he get checked out at the doctor's office before he...does the deed."

Bonbon tapped her chin with a hoof. "You know, that might actually be a pretty good idea. We could even have them send a little letter or something."

"Then it's settled. I'll write us up an ad, and maybe in about a week or so I can start preparing to be a momma when I go into my estrus cycle."

Bonbon agreed, settling down to finally eat her breakfast. The table remained silent for a few minutes, Lyra wondering how to word the ad for the paper. It couldn't be too long, the scalpers at the Equestria Daily made you pay by the letter, but it had to have the right amount of information to catch a stallion's eye. Using her magic to grab a sheet of paper and a pencil from the countertop, Lyra started drafting. 

The custard earth pony sat quietly, occasionally snickering to herself and trying to cover it up. Glancing up from her notes, Lyra saw a custard hoof pushing a banana over the table. 

"Um, I'm pretty full, Bonbon."

"I know, but this is to get used to the feel of it. Maybe I should go get you a cucumber!" Bonbon's face was a plum shade of purple with how hard she laughed at Lyra's discomfort. Scowling, the unicorn hurled the suggestively shaped fruit at the earth pony's head, missing by inches.


***************************************************


The week went by slowly. Bonbon kept herself busy by making candy day in and day out, and Lyra actually did what she said she was going to do and sent her name to a few talent agents in Canterlot. Her new agent said it might take awhile for him to book her for a party or something, so all Lyra could do was wait for responses to her ad. 

Wanted: Stallion for discreet meet up. My partner and I want to have a child and need a stallion to rut with me. Must have clean medical record and proof of it. If interested mail reply to 5071 Mane Street, Ponyville.

A simple enough request. Hopefully some stallion out there would be desperate enough to answer and mail their reply. Looking in her mirror, Lyra had another one of those moments of questioning herself. She toweled off her face after a warm bath, combing her mane with her magic. Setting the brush down, she gazed deeply into the amber-gold reflection of her eyes. 

"What am I getting myself into? Can I really do this? Can I really sleep with some stranger so I can have a baby? Am...am I really ready to be a mom?" The Lyra in the mirror mimicked her words, not giving any of the answers she sought. "Am I being selfish? Or is this the right thing to do with my life?"

A frantic hoof tapped at the bathroom door, an even more frantic voice coming from the other side. "Lyra, hurry up! I have to use the toilet!"

"Just a minute!" she shouted back. Quickly finishing her beautification ritual, Lyra stepped out of the bathroom and was promptly shoved out of the way by her custard colored confectioner wife. The door slammed behind her, almost catching Lyra's green striped tail in the process. "Geez Louise, you could be a little more careful, Bonnie. You nearly took off my tail!"

Adjourning down to their living room, Lyra pulled out her lyre. In the excitement of her recent revelation of desired motherhood, she hadn't really played at all in the past week. Pulling the delicate brass instrument out of its velvet lined case, she carefully checked each string for tautness and the right sound. 

"Everyone sounds just right," she quietly crooned to her lyre. "You're gonna have even more competition for my time here in a few months. As if Bonbon wasn't enough to keep me from playing you, now we're gonna have a little foal that I'm gonna play lullabies for. Maybe I should practice my lullabies, how does that sound?" Glancing around as she displayed her mushy side, Lyra planted a little peck on the lyre which had been like her child ever since she earned her cutie mark. But of course it would pale in comparison to the real thing. 

The real thing, a real foal of her own. Something which would define her life, a legacy she would leave that would stand the test of time and trial. Her own child to hug and hold and.....

The knock at the residential door of the confectioner's shop once again interrupted Lyra's deep thought and infant fueled day dreams. The mare groaned audibly, slipping her lyre back into its case before trotting to the door to answer this interruption. Opening it with her magic, a pair of dandelion yellow wall eyes and a big smile greeted her.

"Good morning Lyra!" the local mailmare said a little too loudly.

Lyra smiled at her good friend and overall one of the silliest mares she knew. "Derpy! How nice to see you. How are you-" Her pleasant greeting was cut off by the overly friendly pegasus giving the unicorn a crushing hug. With her face practically mashed into Derpy's shoulder, Lyra couldn't help but wonder what the bubble marked mare was so excited about.

Finally prying herself loose, Lyra gave her friend a generous smile. "And what do I owe the pleasure of this visit to?"

"Nothing special, just doin' my job," Derpy replied. Grabbing a rather hefty bundle of letters from her mailbag, she set them down on Lyra's doorstep. "You sure have a lot of mail today! Too much to fit in your mailbox. I wonder who it's from?" she mused aloud, knowing she wasn't allowed to peek into the mail due to privacy laws.

Lyra levitated the stack of letters in her aura, flipping through the various letters. "Oh my...." she said quietly. She expected a few bills, maybe some junk mail or even a flimsy magazine or two, but the entire pile seemed to consist of responses to her ad. "I never expected this many."

One of Derpy's eyes rolled over to check a watch latched around her foreleg. "Well, I gotta go now, I have a busy schedule to keep! Oh, and good luck!" The gray pegasus gave a wink to Lyra before flying off, leaving a contrail of letters that would probably not make it to their proper owners.

"Good luck?" Lyra asked herself. Glancing down at the pile of letters, she gave a short laugh when she realized that the wall eyed mare had probably picked up on many of the signs and pieced it all together. "Heh, she really is a lot smarter than she lets on."

Taking the letters inside, she lay them out across the coffee table, glancing over where some of these letters came from. "Manehattan, Trottingham, Canterlot....Ponyville?" She never expected to find a stallion desperate enough to be seeking such carnal desires in the highly feminized town of Ponyville. But some stallions must be more desperate than others.

Bonbon walked very contentedly into the living room, pausing when she saw the massive pile of letters. "What is that?"

Lyra gave a laugh, marveling about how simple this might turn out to be. "Looks like I have more stallions after my flank than Fleur de Lis."

Bonbon grabbed a small stack of the letters, tearing one open and taking a look at the response. "Well, let's get to sorting them out. At least this way we have options." Pulling the penned letter out, Bonbon took a quick glance. "Are you serious?"

"Am I serious about what?" Lyra replied, sorting a stack of letters by their city of origin. 

"No, that's literally the entire letter. 'Are you serious?'"

"Wow, that's almost offensive. Not as much as this one though. 'Stop trying to scam people.' And then it looks like they spit on it."

Lyra levitated another letter out of the pile, tearing it open and casting aside the envelope. "Oh geez, look at this one. 'You're going to burn on a spit in Tartarus you filthy filly-fooler. You should be ashamed for leading such a depraved lifestyle and then trying to trick stallions into rutting with you so you can bear bastard, filly-fooler children.' Signed 'The Equestrian Family Foundation'. Assholes," she muttered as she incinerated the offending letter with her magic.

Bonbon rolled her eyes, remembering their brief conflict with Equestria's least favorite and least populated organization. "Ugh, as if we didn't get enough of their propaganda crap at our wedding. Good thing you knew a DJ loud enough to drown them out. And to think I still get their 'Straight Camp' pamphlets every now and then."

"Straight Camp? What do you do with the pamphlets?"

Bonbon shrugged, thinking of the homophobic propaganda that still made its way to their house even after the restraining order went through. "Mostly burned it. I think I gave a few to some birds to build a nest with at one point."

"Cute. Think of all the little baby birds who are kept warm through bigotry. Wait, here's one!" Lyra quickly scanned over the letter, pulling a copied and signed doctor's notice of absolute health. "It says he lives here in Ponyville, convenient. And that he can be ready in a few hours if necessary."

"Few hours?" Bonbon exclaimed. "Aren't you at the peak of your estrus cycle right now?"

Lyra furrowed her brow, wondering how Bonbon knew such an intimate and personal fact. "How did you know?"

"Lyra, honey. You're more flushed than a toilet. I had to open a window last night to let out some of the heat and hopefully air the stink out. You're hot enough in the downstairs region to boil water. I mean, talk about going into heat. And besides, all of our stallion neighbors have been sniffing around with a dumb grin on their faces. It is so funny to watch them walk away all funny, blushing because they can barely keep it in their sheathe. I mean, it's really obvious what's going on down there."

"Alright, I get it," Lyra replied sardonically. 

Bonbon gave a giggle, trying to exploit this discomfort to the full comedic potential. "The point of what I'm saying is that we should get him over here as quickly as possible, and try to get you impregnated while it's easiest."

Lyra sighed, giving in to Bonbon's logic. "You win. Let's write him a letter and try to get Derpy to express mail it." Setting the letter aside, Lyra magically summoned a piece of paper and a quill to write a response. But before she could, she had to get a monkey off her back. "I've been meaning to ask you something. Why are you so energetic about this?"

Bonbon gave a smile and an outward sigh. "Well, since I was a filly, I've wanted to be a momma. But, when I started to "mature", I knew that I was different because I didn't find anything I liked in any of the colts my age. I even dated a few, but I was never really happy in a relationship. After my failed years of dating stallions and not liking it, I kind of gave up on becoming a mother. But that was before I met you, and way before you ever expressed interest in what I had given up on. In a way, you kind of rekindled the dream I've had since I was little. And I'll be there for you every step of the way. I know this is making you nervous, and that's why I'm trying to make you laugh about it, to make it easier on you." 

Lyra stared rather blankly at her mate, her mouth slightly open and hanging slack. Snapping out of it, she leaned over and nuzzled Bonbon lovingly on her nose. "Damn it, I love you so much," she whispered.


**********************************************************


The shades were all closed on every window in the house. Though the den was becoming rather uncomfortable and stuffier with each passing moment, it would stay that way. Both Bonbon and Lyra sat on the couch, listening to the clock tick and waiting in the dark. The room permeating stench of Lyra's estrus cycle was nauseating to the other mare, but to a stallion it was supposed to be an intoxicating bouquet of pheromones and hormonal stimulants. Hopefully it would smell much better for their guest than for Bonbon.

Lyra tapped a hoof in nervous anticipation, sitting on her haunches like a human being. Her eyes nervously flicked over to the loudly ticking clock, squinting through the shadows to try and tell the time. 

"Damn it, he's supposed to be here by now," Lyra muttered anxiously.

Bonbon laid a calming hoof on Lyra's thigh. "Just be calm. He'll be here soon enough."

The unicorn nervously wiped the sweat from her forehead, gulping down her building anxiety. "What if he doesn't come? What if his letter was just a prank?"

"Lyra, I don't know many pranksters that would actually go to the doctor and get checked out just to stand up some free pussy."

"Heh, you're right. They'd have to be crazy," she replied sheepishly. 

Her tapping hoof increased in its frequency, rising in speed until it sounded like a family of woodpeckers had found a sleeping timber wolf.

"Stop that!" Bonbon hissed. "You're getting all worked up over something that everypony does! Just take it easy and let things happen naturally."

The unicorn folded her hooves in her lap, trying to keep them occupied and still. She had even heard of this fantastic sounding action that humans did while bored that apparently kept them occupied. Maybe while pregnant she could master the subtle art of 'twiddling your thumbs'. Whatever a 'thumb' was.

The minute hand of the clock pressed onward in its cyclical journey, passing the the finish line at twelve only to find one on the other side. And as the clock struck noon, somepony knocked on the door. Lyra shifted herself to stand up, but Bonbon stopped her. "I'll get it," she told Lyra, her voice reassuring and comforting.

The custard colored earth pony made her way to the door, making sure the shades were all drawn to hopefully keep this as anonymous as possible. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself as she reached for the doorknob. 

The door swung open, a black coated stallion standing there, looking around as though passerby's were judging him. He wore a long coat to stay hidden, but it only made him even more conspicuous in the bearing heat of summer. 

"Um, hi. I'm here about the..." He bit his lip and waved a hoof, not really wanting to finish that sentence. 

"Come in," Bonbon said to him. He gladly obliged, hurrying past Bonbon and coming into the darkened living room. Taking off his stuffy and hot coat revealed a pair of black feathered wings and a blue-silver mane. 

Though Lyra was surprised to recognize him, she didn't think much of it. She had only ever seen him up close once or twice by random chance, and it wouldn't be hard to avoid him after this. 

Taking a seat in a chair, the pegasus looked around the darkened room as Bonbon took her seat by Lyra again. Lifting his nose he took a whiff of the pheromone laden air, visibly perking as his primal instincts began to kick in.

"So, which one of you am I-" he said, his pointing hoof drifting between both mares.

"That would be me," Lyra interrupted.

"Oh," he said with a grin, involuntarily nodding in approval. "So should we just get this over with?" he asked.

"That would probably be best," she replied. Rising from the couch, Lyra took her donor by the hoof and led him to the stairs. Glancing over her shoulder back at Bonbon, the earth pony gave her a weak smile and a nod. Swallowing her anxiety, the unicorn led the stallion upstairs and into her bedroom. The bedroom was just as darkened as the rest of the house, and hopefully it would keep everything just a little more discreet. 

Letting the stallion go, Lyra walked over to her bed, pulling herself on and laying flat on her belly. Her flank and hindquarters hung off the edge for easier access. Using her magic, she quietly pulled over a pillow and buried her face in it, hoping that he would be gentle.

Approaching from behind, her suitor took a deep whiff of her estrus scent, letting natural instinct take over. With a nicker of male approval for his soon to be mate, the pegasus positioned himself accordingly.

Lyra bit down on the pillow, almost sobbing as she waited for the act to begin. But as she lay there on the bed, almost quivering in nervous anticipation, she heard her donor clear his throat. "Um, ma'am?"

"Yeah?" Lyra managed to whisper.

"I can't really get in if you keep your tail down like that."

With a start she realized she had her tail firmly clamped between her thighs, restricting all entry and putting up a sign that said 'access denied'. 

"Sorry, just...a little apprehensive."

"S'alright," he replied.

Closing her eyes, Lyra concentrated on raising her tail, thinking of more pleasant thoughts than getting railed by a stranger. And as she lay there, she felt the first probing touch of his member, and she bit her lip and thought of Trottingham.


********************************************************************************


The doctor's office lay barren of anypony except for a few nurses passing by every now and then. Bonbon sat apprehensively with Lyra in their doctor's office, waiting for her test results to come back. The unicorn mare seemed incredibly excited to be here today, and practically shivered in her seat. 

One week had passed since her little 'date' with her stallion donor, and Lyra anticipated a positive report on her pregnancy. She'd been a little sick the last morning or two, nothing too severe, but that's what all the other mares said was a sign of pregnancy. Bonbon kept trying to tell her that morning sickness doesn't happen within a week, that it was probably just a stomach bug or something. 

"I'm so excited!" Lyra whispered to Bonbon. "I wonder if we're gonna have a colt or a filly!"

"Now Lyra," her partner whispered back, "Don't put all your eggs in this one basket. Just because you got laid once doesn't necessarily mean you're pregnant. My brother says it took four tries with his wife at the peak of her estrus cycles to get it to take. Not that he was complaining or anything. If anything, it almost sounded like he was bragging."

Their discreet conversation was interrupted by the entrance of the doctor their insurance could pay for, Ponyville's local physician, Dr Triage. "Good afternoon ladies. I trust everypony is feeling well?" he asked, levitating a file folder over to his desk. 

"We're all good here Doc. So, what are my results?"

The tan unicorn opened up the file, snapping out a pair of reading glasses before going on. "Well, it seems that a magical probe showed a low hormone level, white cell count is slightly elevated, and your blood pressure is normal."

Lyra gave Bonbon a pat on the hoof. "Did you hear that? All good."

Dr Triage snapped the file closed, setting it down on his desk. "Mrs Heartstrings, considering your goal, that's not a good thing. If you were even in the earliest stages of pregnancy, a magic probe would reveal an abnormally high amount of estrogen in your system. Your tests show that not only are you below the expected hormonal level at that stage of pregnancy, you are actually below the average for a normal mare. I'm rather surprised you even managed to have an estrus cycle."

The unicorn mare's expression of glee and anticipation began to fall. "What are you saying?"

Dr Triage sighed heavily. "You're not pregnant. In fact, the test that we did hints at a possible difficulty in your fertility. It may take several tries before something actually works."

"You mean...I have to keep trying?"

He slowly nodded. "I can prescribe you with an oral medication and some creams that may increase your estrogen level and increase the likelihood of your impregnation. But other than that, all you can do is keep trying." Dr Triage penned out a prescription for Lyra to pick up, tearing it out of his pad and levitating it over to her.

Taking it, she placed it in her saddlebag and sighed. "Thank you, Doctor Triage." Rising from her seat, she and Bonbon both left the office and exited the lobby. "Well, back to the personals," she said in defeat.


********************************************************************


Another ad went into the paper while Lyra was still in heat, and another stallion answered within a day. And within another day, the unicorn mare found herself lying on her belly and taking the second stallion of her life all the way to the bank. Afterwards, when the stallion had left and Bonbon felt safe enough to start opening the blinds again, Lyra immersed herself in the hottest bath that she could tolerate, scrubbing off her flank and her back.

She never wanted to admit that the pegasus from before had been her first. Bonbon had coltfriends when she was younger, and had probably gotten rather intimate with them at some point. But not her; not sweet, innocent Lyra. She'd always known she had a preference for mares, and disdained the touch of a colt from a very young age.

Lying on her back in the hot tub, with only her head above the bubbly water, Lyra sighed. Running a hoof along her recently filled belly, she whispered, "Please, please work."


*********************************************************************


Another month passed, and another two suitors had tried their luck with the aquamarine mare, but to no avail. Each trip to the doctor's office was met with the same message: her body just seemed to reject any attempts to fertilize her. She went into heat as expected and with no trouble, but Dr Triage's magic scans kept coming back negative.

She began to grow desperate, even going so far as to ask some of her friends for advice. Besides, it might help to cheer her up to catch up with some of the girls. Since Golden Harvest was working the market, Octavia still lived back in Canterlot, and Dr Whooves was having an anthropological study with all three of Ponyville's resident humans, she decided that tea with Derpy might be a good thing. 

"So that's what you gotta do, eat lots of peaches! Oh, and don't forget to add cream, you'll be popping out foals in no time! What do you think I was eating right before I got pregnant with Dinky? That's right, an entire bushel of peaches," the bubble marked mare said matter-of-factly.

Lyra blinked in disbelief as she took a sip of her tea. "Uh, thanks Derpy. I'll try that. Say, who is Dinky's father?" The unicorn slapped a hoof to her mouth as soon as she said it, realizing she tread upon thin ice bringing up the paternity of the single mother's child.

Derpy's normally bright face began to turn a little dimmer, and she sighed. Grabbing another sugarcube from the tray, she dropped it in her cup and stirred it in. "I don't really like to talk about my first marriage."

"I'm so sorry Derpy, I didn't-"

The pegasus held up a hoof. "No no, it's alright. Let's just say...Dinky and I are better off with him."

"Well...that's always good to hear." An awkward silence enveloped the living room, only the sound of Bonbon's typically frantic candymaking from the kitchen even making a dent in the resounding quiet.

Biting her lip, Lyra had to ask something to her friend, and being that Derpy was the only parent she was friends with, it would be rather personal. "So, what was it like?" she poked a hoof on her own belly to show the pegasus what she meant.

And then something unexpected happened, Derpy's eyes leveled out, and a very serious and deep look seemed to come from them. "It was like nothing else I have ever felt. Bearing Dinky inside of me was like remembering the warmth of a hundred summer's days, and each little movement was like her own calming touch that stroked my feelings and banished every moment of sadness. Feeling her inside of me felt as though I was basking in the gentle light of a greater purpose in my life, and that a higher power had been bestowed upon me to spread joy and happiness throughout my child's life. In a way, when I knew I was pregnant with my little girl, I knew my life was no longer something to be tossed by the wayside, I had a legacy, and I had found true purpose."

Lyra stared, completely dumbfounded at this display of emotional depth and maturity coming from Derpy. "Wow," she said quietly.

Derpy gave a quick laugh, and her eyes seemed to spin out of control once again. "But the pain of childbirth almost cancelled all that. My doctor said it's like breaking twenty bones at once! Can you imagine that kind of pain? And I was in labor for sixteen hours! Thank Celestia for morphine! If I were you, I'd drop this whole 'pregnancy' thing and just adopt." 

A breeze drifted in from the open window, and Derpy lifted her muzzle to give a sniff. "Mmm, smells like Pinkie Pie made more of those famous muffins! I gotta go Lyra, I promised Dinky I would get her some fresh blueberry muffins. Tell Bonnie I said hi!"

"Catch you later, alligator," Lyra replied to her friend as she flew out the window, completely forsaking the easily accessed door. The normally slow paced pegasus took off at a blinding speed, knocking loose a pair of hanging plants outside the window and shattering their pots. But, there was always some expected collateral damage when Derpy came calling.

And as a crash resounded in the general direction of Sugarcube Corner, a thought drifted by Lyra. "Maybe she's onto something about adopting. But that's always a last resort anyways. I just have to keep at it."


**************************************************************************


Desperation and depression filled her life. All Lyra could do was take the advice of every single friend, acquaintance, stranger, passerby, professional, amateur, and even advice from different species. 

She did manage to make some money when a few upper crust unicorns needed a harpist for their art gala in Canterlot, and she made a handsome profit doing it for one night. But almost all of that money went to trying all the mountains of advice she received. 

Bonbon was starting to grow agitated at the amount of half baked and sometimes idiotic things the unicorn did to increase her fertility. Crushing down a half eaten bushel of now rotted peaches into the trash can and dumping some mysterious herbal concoction from Zecora's down the drain, for once Lyra began to lose hope. 

She had to hold in her vomit as she tossed out the untouched jar of goat's blood that a gryphon friend had acquired for her, saying that it always got gryphon hens into a better brooding mood. Since superstitious bullshit and even modern medical science had failed her, there was only one place left to turn, magic.

Early evening began to fall on the town of Ponyville as Lyra made her way across town to speak with the most magically accomplished unicorn in all of Ponyville. If there was one pony she could turn to, it was Princess Celestia's personal protege. Knocking on the door at Golden Oaks Library, she waited patiently for Twilight to answer. 

The door creaked open, and the Element of Magic poked her head out. "Lyra! What brings you here tonight?"

"I need help, Twilight."

The lavender unicorn looked her over. "I should say so, you look pretty beat. Come on in." Wondering why Twilight had said that, Lyra obliged and walked in the open door. Seating her at a reading table, Twilight gave a little smile. "What can I help you with? Does this have to do with your fertility?"

"How did you know?" Lyra asked.

"Ponyville is a small town, word gets around quickly. So quickly that I actually thought ahead and started to do some research on fertility and pregnancy."

"You did?"

Twilight nodded rapidly, eager to utilize her research abilities to help a friend. "Uh huh. You'd be surprised how complex the entire process is. Did you know that a stallion will inseminate a mare with upwards of 180 million sperm each time he mates with her? And that through her own bodily defenses, only around a thousand make it to the ovum?"

Despite the black dog riding her shoulder, Lyra managed to weakly smile. "Well, I must have some pretty awesome defenses."

Twilight stifled a giggle. "And it gets even better! Aaron told me that the humans once had the ability to artificially create a zygote and implant it in an infertile female! And that at the peak of their technological advance, they were even experimenting with cloning. An exact copy of yourself, how would that be for a baby?"

The aquamarine mare tensed in her seat at the mention of the human, her eyes darting about to search for him. "Oh no, is he here?"

Twilight's eyes shot open, and she swallowed a lump in her throat. "Sort of. Um, so, I have a few books I think you should read that might provide with the insights on how magic has aided in the medical field. It might help with your problem. Stay here, I'll be back in a minute." The hosting mare stood from her seat, trotting into another room of the library and closing the door after her.

Left by her lonesome, Lyra once again tried to master the art of twiddling her thumbs while still trying to figure out what a thumb was. Leaning back in her chair, she sighed loudly and heard it echo in the empty room of the library. But as the sound bounced back into her ears, she noticed not everything was as quiet as it let on. There was some kind of low hum that gently vibrated the walls and the floor. 

Looking at a glass on the table, it seemed to shiver minutely with each pulsing thrum. There seemed to be a steady rhythm, the strange humming rising and falling in every few seconds. "I recognize this," she whispered. This was something that they taught every unicorn foal back in magic kindergarten. This kind of pattern of a humming was indicative of some sort of magical nexus nearby, a rare phenomenon that indicated the use of powerful magic. A nexus was caused by the disturbance of the ley lines of an area, being bent and strained to flow down a different arcane channel.

Stepping off the chair, she felt the subtle vibration in her hooves. "It's coming from downstairs." Her curiosity got the better of her, and despite Twilight's request that she stay in the main room, Lyra felt drawn to a particular door. Knowing it was dangerous to use her own magic around a nexus, she opened the door with her mouth, quietly pushing it open. A winding staircase cut from the living wood of the library circled down into a large room. 

Taking a few tentative steps down the stairs, the door shut behind her. Startled, she took a short leap forward, almost tumbling down the steps. Muttering to herself about being scared by a door, she noticed the hum had almost turned into some kind of song. It was unlike anything she had ever heard, and each note was the chime of a crystal. 

Cautiously continuing down the steps, she reached the landing and spied the source of the arcane nexus. A pale light emanated from a circle of runes drawn onto the floor, and dead center of that circle sat Dr Patterson. His eyes were closed, and his hands lay palm up, coated in his trademark forest-green magic. But what was absolutely fascinating was the orb that seemed to hover around his head. It was in itself a pinprick of light that lazily drifted about. And somehow, the orb in some way had a spitting image of his face in it. 

Lyra held her breath, and reached out with a shaking hoof to prod the human, just to see if he was alright. But before her hoof could even pass the circle of runes, a lavender hoof touched her on the shoulder. Whipping around to see Twilight, the lavender unicorn had a look of worry on her face. "Don't. It's dangerous to try and intervene," she whispered in a hushed tone.

"What's going on? Shouldn't we help him?" Lyra hissed to Twilight, seriously concerned about his safety. Though she knew he possessed magic, that amount was very dangerous to anything short of a Princess.

"That's not him," was all Twilight whispered before motioning Lyra to follow her back upstairs. Lyra took another glance back at the human, seeing the tendrils of magic that streamed out of his body and out into the world. 

Closing the door quietly behind herself, Twilight nodded. "Okay, it should be alright to talk now."

"What in Tartarus was that?" Lyra asked.

Twilight sighed, motioning her over to a couch where a pot of freshly brewed tea sat on a coffee table. "It's hard to explain. And not even Aaron is sure what is happening. But what you saw downstairs was not Aaron. That was his body."

"His...body? What do you mean?"

"Let me start from the beginning. Several months ago when we went across the frontier into the Demon Lands, what is now the Republic of Terra, my friends and I found him asleep with the rest of mankind. But something drew me to him, and only after we averted a second war with mankind did we begin to understand. What led me to him, and even led us subliminally across the desert was some kind of higher intelligence that exists beyond this plane. Something that we might call a god."

"A...god?" Lyra almost shivered at the word, knowing that many races across the Earth held religion in high regard, but ponies were almost always the exception to that. 

"Yes. This 'god' likes to call herself 'Mother' because she thinks that she is a kind, gentle and loving spirit. And typically, she is. But sometimes she has to lay down the law and dole out a bit of punishment. Lyra, don't be too shocked about this, but this deity is why we exist as we do. Millenia ago, when humans were at the height of their power, she saw how much they suffered and hated one another, and she shaped us and formed us into something that could challenge their global dominance. In other words, ponies were made to fight the humans in a war that would humble them and unite them. Aaron, Sara, Fred; they're all veterans of this war. They survived for two thousand years in stasis, and when my friends and I freed Aaron, he freed the rest of them."

Lyra tried to take in all of this, shaking her head. "Then, the rumors. They're all true? But what does this have to do with what I saw downstairs?"

"I'm getting to that. When we brought him back to Ponyville, he was captured after a few days by Princess Luna and her guards. Apparently, they shared some kind of a connection and held a grudge against each other over all those years. I didn't see him again for two whole weeks, until the Gala." 

The minty unicorn vaguely remembered seeing something in the newspaper about how the Grand Galloping Gala had been crashed by some kind of creature. "That was him?"

"Yes, but when I saw him after at the Gala, he had...changed. Do you remember being taught about creatures of pure magic?"

"Vaguely, yes," Lyra replied.

"This deity had visited him while Princess Luna had him imprisoned, and she infused him with souls. Almost all of them human souls, literal billions of them. They gave him raw power that was unimaginable in scale. He even faced off with Princess Celestia, and hands down would have won if he actually retaliated."

"He became a Legion? But how is that possible? The first thing our teachers taught us about Legions was that they always die! There's never been a recorded survivor."

"And there still isn't, it killed him in the end. But she sent him back to finish the job, to resurrect humanity. And after he came back to Ponyville when we signed the armistice, he expected that her voice would stop speaking to him, and that he could live a normal life. Have you ever noticed that he sometimes just stares off into space, and then speaks randomly?"

Lyra gave a slight snort, knowing that the human wouldn't tolerate her presence long enough for that to be seen. "I have not."

Twilight chuckled to herself. "She's still there. Still talking to him. And whenever he seems to look off into the distance, he's having some kind of telepathic conversation with a deity. I'll be teaching him something basic about magic, and then he'll stare off into the distance, and when he snaps out of it, he'll point out where I was doing something slightly different from the proper method. It's fascinating, but kind of annoying to be corrected by an amateur, especially when a god is whispering the right answer into his ear. But what really is fascinating is what started happening a few weeks ago."

"What started happening?"

"What you saw downstairs. Aaron and Mother exist in a sort of symbiotic relationship, because something about him makes his soul synchronize with her spirit more completely than most other people. He calls himself a 'Conduit', a creature whose soul can interface with that of a god. He was born that way, but only when the time was right did Mother reveal it to him. They both say that before, during the War, Mother could only interact with this world through massive expenditures of magic and energy. But she can use Aaron as some kind of antenna to enact a lighter touch on the world. But for her to use his body as an energy conduit, it has to be vacated first. Remember when I said he was 'sort of' here? That orb you saw floating around his head was his soul, patiently waiting to get back in his body while she was using it."

"You mean that person in the basement was some kind of spirit?"

"In Aaron's body! Yes! That's why his body can safely handle that much magic, because that's not actually his magic. And besides, he's channeled much more before."

A thought crossed through Lyra's mind, and the solution to her problems seemed to loom on the horizon. "So, have you ever talked to this 'Mother' character?"

Twilight shrugged, taking a sip of her tea. "A few times. She's really nice, and she loves to tell jokes. She's also the spiritual progenitor of both Princess Celestia and Princess Luna. They're her daughters, go figure."

"Can she give me...I don't know, maybe a little advice?"

Twilight's eyebrow shot up to her forehead, then her eyes popped wide open as she realized what Lyra was truly after. "Oooohhh. You think she might have an answer to your fertility problem."

Lyra rolled her eyes at the socially awkward Twilight. "To put it bluntly, yes."

The town librarian tapped her chin with a hoof, a very deep and thoughtful expression crossing her face. "Well, we might be able to ask, so long as we do it carefully. Come on, let's go try." The lavender unicorn led her back over to the basement door, opening it carefully and ushering Lyra down the steps. She tread carefully down the dimly lit stairs, seeing that not much had changed except that the orb that was Aaron appeared to be doing loop de loops to entertain itself.

The orb stopped in its antics, seeming to spy Lyra from across its shield of runes. Shrinking back, it changed color from white to a light shade of red, almost shivering in fear. "Is he afraid of me or something?" Lyra asked, looking inquisitively at the free roaming soul. 

"He's still a little apprehensive about what you did to him. It's not that he's afraid, he's just uncomfortable with you around." Twilight turned her attention to the floating soul, ignoring the body churning out godly amounts of magic power. "Aaron! Behave yourself, Lyra is my guest and I will not tolerate this kind of behavior in my own home! Do you understand me?"

The orb shivered a little bit, then bobbed up and down as if nodding, changing its color back to a vibrant white. "That's better," Twilight said in a manner that seemed almost a little smug. Turning her back to him, Lyra could almost swear she saw a face sticking its tongue out at Twilight before turning away to sulk.

Clearing her throat, Twilight addressed the spiritual conduit inside of the circle of runes. "Excuse me, Mother? Can I talk to you for a moment?"

The empty body seemed unresponsive in its extreme concentration, but the human's head lifted and his eyes opened to reveal not the normal brown of Aaron's eyes, but a glowing pool of forest green magic. Turning slowly to Twilight, it smiled.

Hello Twilight, how can I help you?

Lyra looked at his lips, but they remained motionless, despite the whispering voice that seemed to be inside of her head.

"Oh, hi. I need to ask you a favor," she asked sheepishly of the god-possessed body in front of her. 

Anything for you. What would you ask of me?

"My friend here," she nodded towards Lyra, "needs some advice, and thought that you might be able to help her."

The entity's gaze shifted to Lyra, inspecting the unicorn mare and giving her a smile. 

I'm flattered you came to me for help, Lyra Heartstrings.

"You know my name?" Lyra asked the entity.

Of course. I also know why you came to me for help.

"You do? Can you help me?" Lyra said with a rise of excitement in her voice.

That is something I don't know. The god possessed body glanced back at the floating orb, which seemed to chatter in an extreme high pitch. Calm down, I'll give it back in a minute. I'm busy right now. Typical organism, always fretting about 'time'. Anyways, I know what you're going through, Lyra. It took me literally two billion years of trying to craft even the most primitive of cells before I gave up and let the universe take its own course with life. It was quite possibly the most frustrating and depressing thing that could have happened. But it all eventually worked out, not the way I was expecting, but here we are today.

"So you just let nature take its course?"

Mhm, and let me tell you something. You know that feeling you got when you first saw Sophia? That warm, fuzzy feeling inside?

Lyra gave an understanding smile and a nod. "I sure do."

Isn't it just the greatest feeling you've ever had? That to me is the purest form of love and harmony, and it's why I choose to be known as 'Mother'. And I would be honored to assist you in becoming one too.

The minty unicorn could have jumped for joy, and her hooves beat an excited little dance into the basement floor. "Thank you thank you THANK YOU!" she sang loudly. "Thank you so much! I don't know how I can ever repay you!" Lyra tried to swoop in for a hug, but was stopped by Twilight as she neared the runic barrier. "Oh, sorry. Nearly breached the magic circle."

Not a big deal. And you don't have to repay me in any way. Simply feeling the love and happiness of a person is payment enough for anything. Now come close.

Lyra took a few steps closer, anticipating that the possessing goddess could ascertain the problem and either tell her how to fix it, or just do it on her own. A hand reached out from the rune circle and started to run along the fur of her stomach. Though having the fingers on her fur would have excited her any other day, tonight Lyra stayed still to hopefully ease along the diagnosis. 

She felt tendrils of magic seeking through her body for anything that might be causing her infertility, and with a start the deity stopped. The look on the possessed body's face started to become grim.

Oh no.... she heard whispered into her mind. No no no, damn it.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Lyra asked, concerned about the change in her telepathic voice.

Do you remember a certain event in your past? A certain illness you caught when you were about sixteen and travelling through northern Zebrica?

"Yeah" Lyra replied, "I caught a fever and was bedridden for a week. But my fever broke and I got better."

You caught a rare virus which chiefly attacked your reproductive system. If you had been given the proper treatment, the damage could have been stopped or even reversed. Lyra...I'm sorry, but all of your eggs were completely annihilated by the infection. You still ovulate, but you do not produce any eggs. I'm so sorry.

Hearing her worst fear, Lyra began to choke with tears, and she wiped her eyes with a hoof, trying to hide her sorrow and utter waste of all her efforts. "I never had a chance. I can never be a mother," she quietly wept.

The pools of green light faded from the human's eyes, and the humming noise began to dim and fade away as the goddess withdrew back to her realm. And as his body was vacated, a much more solemn acting spirit of Aaron Patterson drifted back into his body, taking up residence once again. Blinking and taking a deep breath as he once again returned to the world of the living, he looked over at Lyra.

"I'm sorry," he said earnestly. Standing from his circle of runes, he delicately wrapped his arms around Lyra's neck and gave her a gentle hug. Letting all of her sorrow and her frustration come out at once, she buried her face in his shoulder and cried like she had never cried before.


*******************************************************************************


Even as she made it home for dinner, Lyra had to continue stifling the tears. But she couldn't help it; magic, science, wishful thinking and even God all told her that it was impossible, that her time had passed before she was even available. Walking in the door to her home, she set down her saddlebag and entered the dining room. 

Bonbon looked up from the table in annoyance, wanting to rant about how her partner was late for dinner again and how it was getting cold. But the sight of Lyra's reddened and watered eyes immediately silenced her. Standing from the table, she rushed to her partner. "Lyra, what happened? What's wrong?"

Lyra let it all out once again, sobbing into her wife's shoulder like she had with Aaron and Twilight. "I can't get pregnant. It's impossible," she wept. 

"Who told you that?" Bonbon asked, willing to go and kick somepony's ass if they had said it as an insult.

"A god did. She told me that I'm sterile. I can never get pregnant."

Bonbon closed her eyes, holding back the tears of sympathy and tightly hugging her mate. "I have a confession to make," she whispered. "I've been secretly meeting with stallions since we started trying. I wanted to surprise you since I knew you were having trouble. I...I can't either."

And there they sat on the floor of their dining room, holding one another and weeping for their inability to create life and make themselves into a family. Only time would tell as to where this failed attempt in their lives would take them.


*************************************************


Well then, that turned from a comedy into a tragedy pretty quickly. How about that deep and serious Derpy? And that Thunderlane/Lyra sex ship? Also, WARNING! The next chapter will skip forward several months to advance the plotline! I know it's lazy and of bad taste, but how the hell am I supposed to fill in that much time?

Well anyways, I kinda wanted to tell you guys that my story universe got its first spin off a few months ago! Iron Sides, a fan of mine and a person who I consider to be a friend, wrote a pretty cool story called Rise of the Fallen. Mostly it is a story about the rerise of human technology following our resurrection from stasis and how we began to rebuild ourselves. And a forewarning, it is very heavy on the technical lingo for steam engines, but it's still a good read. Inter-story references will be made, and I will rely on some of Iron Sides' canon. Iron, if you're reading this, can I borrow some of your OC's? They might play a pretty integral part later on.
> By Invitation Only
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Ten Months Later



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As quickly as hope and a spark in Lyra's life had arisen, the winds of a harsh reality and a cold and cruel irony had doused any  flame that could have arisen. Things had calmed after that fateful night where Lyra had finally realized the crushing cruelty of her life. Both she and her wife had clung to one another all night, never leaving the dining room and quietly sobbing into each other's manes. It seemed that life had decided to pepper them with more trials than anypony else they could know, and each time they tried to enrich their lives or pursue greater happiness, an even greater obstacle would stand in their way to crush any hope like brittle, fallen leaves.

The seasons passed; autumn came with the promises of the chill winter whispering on the breeze. The colors of the foliage changed and changed again, giving one last splash of oranges and reds before falling down to lifelessness under the pounding hooves of the ponies of Ponyville. Life began to take on some normalcy, as normal as events could occur in the quaint hamlet. Monsters came and where driven back, political strife was endured, and friendships were tried and trusted. It was even said amongst the denizens of Equestria that the Elements of Harmony had been called upon once again to fight an impending darkness. And as always, harmony had triumphed over chaos.

The cool autumn gave way to to the bone chilling depths of winter. The fields lay fallow and barren, and Lyra would often gaze out the frost rimmed windows and know how this seemingly dead landscape was an outer reflection of her own body. Cold, barren, and incapable of life. The deep and drifting snows brought her spirits down to depths of which she never could believe existed.

Normally the falling of snowflakes around the lonely street lamps of Ponyville would raise a warm and gentle love from Lyra, a remembrance of the moment when she had realized her true love had been her best friend for months, and her true love had loved her back. But not this year. Each falling flake only tore a tiny rend into her heart. And like the lifeless fields across Equestria, Lyra began to feel cold inside.

But she kept good on one promise to herself, she let the music once again flow freely through her. The talent agent she had hired back in the summer began to book her for fancy galas, high class banquets, charity events, parties for the well to do and anywhere where her music could be heard. And after a few months, the name Heartstrings was one that was nodded to in respect for her talent of pouring her heart and soul through the soft pluck of a simple string. And though their dream of becoming a family had been crushed by impotence, both Lyra and Bonbon managed to find some solace and minor happiness through the vast inward flow of wealth coming from Lyra's music gigs. 

Lyra knew many ponies were beginning to look up to her for her soulful ballads, and in truth it was the pain of her failure to become a mother that gave those notes power. And each time she sat upon a stage, bedecked in some silly dress to fit the occasion, a tear would fall. A tear shed in dedication for the life she could not create.

Winter slowly loosened its grip upon the slumbering world; the cycle of life and death coming to fruition and bearing the signs of resurrection once more. The melting snows dripped away slowly in most parts of the world. But in Equestria, where the aloof pegasi controlled the weather, the transition from the cold depths of winter to the vibrant colors of spring would pass unnaturally quick. 

Almost literally in the blink of an eye.

Ponyville's three resident adult humans expected a longer and slower change of season, and groggily peered out the windows of their respective homes when a certain tune was sung by all the ponies as they went about their seasonal duty of changing the season manually. Not knowing nor truly caring what the town's ponies meant about 'Winter Wrap Up', they kept sleeping through it. At one point a groggy (and considerably hungover) Dr Patterson leaned out a window and began to shriek unrepeatable obscenities in the vague hope of stopping the incredibly well balanced singing. Only after being pelted with snowballs did he stop and just go back to bed.

Spring came with the warm promise of summer days with a cool reminder of winter's howling gales on the breeze. Spring was a season to be enjoyed and loved by all races across the Earth (with the exception of the wyverns of Snowreach, which are invariably driven to utter psychosis by even the slightest climb in the mercury). 

But one race took this spring to be a particularly blessed one, and would celebrate its coming with the greatest joy and mirth. The eldest yet newest race on the Earth had just survived their first winter in over two thousand years. With the first anniversary of their peace with the creatures of magic coming up, the humans of the city of Lazarus felt as though they should do something to celebrate such a momentous milestone in their new history. And the leaders of Equestria agreed, meeting in secret with the Elements of Harmony and even the human ambassador to prepare a gift for the infant nation.

And it was this desire to celebrate their lives and their independence amongst the humans that would ultimately set in motion events that would even confound the gods and make Lyra Heartstrings a household name.

It began as all things do, a tiny little spark that erupts into a roaring inferno, a infinitesimal ripple that travels across the oceans until it is a towering tsunami of change. And most importantly in pony society, it began with a picnic.




....and a small fleet of helicopter gunships. Can't forget that, it's not a memorable event if high tech war machines aren't involved in some tiny way.


***********************************************************************


Lyra poured a cup of warm coffee from her thermos, taking a careful sip to see if it had cooled enough for her to drink. Satisfied, she laid down her cup and unpacked a sandwich from the basket. Bonbon also poured a cup from the thermos, leaving her cup only half full and filling it the rest of the way with cream and sugar. 

Lyra smirked at the earth pony who had to dilute her bitter with so much sweet. "Geez honey, you want some coffee with your creamer?"

Bonbon rolled her eyes, taking a sip from her cup and laying down on their checkered picnic blanket. "That's the difference between you and me, I take the bitter with the sweet so neither one can overwhelm me. You tend to just take one or the other full force. Speaking of going full force, did I ever tell you that Comet Tail and Golden Harvest actually were dating for a few months?"

Lyra took a large bite of her sandwich, a few crumbs falling from her mouth as she replied, "They made such a cute couple."

"Tell me about it, but I think he broke it off in the end. Something about needing his space." Lyra began to go through her typical ritual of completely zoning out while Bonnie went through her gossip girl act. She lay down in the shade of one of Ponyville park's many oak trees, the expansive and stretching branches covering more than enough room for several picnic blankets. But today the public park seemed devoid of anypony at all, only Lyra and Bonbon seemed to inhabit the serene and peaceful park.

Occasionally drifting back in to the conversation, Lyra would catch snippets of Bonbon's second-hoof gossip ramblings, just in case she was questioned about it later. Typically they were complete nonsense and sometimes just plain breaches of somepony's privacy. But it made Bonbon feel good to know about the personal lives of her friends and neighbors.

And against her will, Lyra's thoughts began to drift. Two particular subjects seemed to badger her today, one she had thought about nearly every hour for the last few months, and one that she had almost completely forgotten about. She felt it strange that her obsession with humans would pick right now to tickle at her thoughts. Her old passion seemed to rekindle right now for some reason, like something would come along soon to stoke that flame. 

Lyra felt so odd about the situation. Only a year ago ponies had been dropping subtle hints about her seeing a psychotherapist. And by 'subtle', a few of her friends had even secretly put brochures in her mail every week, hoping to curb the seemingly unhealthy fixation. Lyra even had a small collection of them all entitled 'How to Spot Signs of Obsession'. But, she had been right. So right that many of her friends and acquaintances had stopped talking to her for a few weeks out of embarrassment. 

All the dreams of glamour and fame, none of it had come to fruition. The smiling crowds standing in awe of the famous researcher and theorist that had proven that humanity indeed existed. Who stood resolute in her beliefs despite everypony telling her she was crazy and despite the multiple threats from government officials for her to stop poking her nose in things. The imminent awards, statues, recognition.....none of it had happened. 

Humans were the norm now. Hell, some of their technology had been passing through Ponyville on its way to the markets in Canterlot and Manehattan. Huge, lumbering steam engines, far stronger and larger than anything ponies had ever built passed through once a week or so on the Equestrian railway, a human engineer piloting the mountain of muscular steel and hauling metal ores, lumber, foodstuffs and textiles all back across the expanses to the markets and warehouses in his nation. And another thing Lyra noticed about those human-made trains as they crossed through Ponyville, they were all dull and painted in plain colors when they were even painted at all. They made them to be workhorses, not to be a gaudy display of color and frivolity. 

Everything they did right now had to be for a purpose; any waste or letting down their guard could be a fatal blow to their fragile nation. Their species was still on the brink of extinction; a long drought, a few bad storms, some rampant virus or even an invasion from another race could utterly wipe them out in this vulnerable state. And for that reason, the humans were stocking up on every single staple and necessity needed and driving themselves into an overwhelming national debt to do it. But more importantly, they were driving themselves to the limit to increase their population and fill the maternity ward.

Maternity, the second nagging idea that had plagued her so much over these past few months. Lyra had barely psychologically survived the winter, even going so far as to think about the unthinkable once or twice. She'd always been a tomboy, so when this urge to fulfill the most feminine of desires struck her, it hit hard and it sank deep. The very thought of bearing a foal was pleasing to the mare, but the process of making one was repugnant to her. The hungry touch of a stallion as he lowered himself towards her...

A shiver ran down Lyra's spine as she lay on that checkered blanket in the park. With a start she realized that she hadn't tuned back into Bonbon in quite a while. Changing her thoughts from inward to outward, she heard nothing but silence and the chirp of birds in the park. Glancing over at Bonbon, she almost breathed a sigh of relief that Bonnie wasn't glaring at her for not listening. Instead, the earth pony leaned up on an elbow, looking almost concernedly at Lyra.

"Bit for your thoughts?" Bonbon asked inquisitively.

Lyra rolled over to grab another cup of coffee out of the picnic basket. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing, something's bothering you, and I want to know what so I can help you."

Lyra sighed, taking a sip of the much cooler drink. "It's about last summer."

Bonbon rolled her eyes and groaned, knowing this subject almost always ended in tears and one of them locking themselves away for several days. "This again? I thought we were over that. It's just something that we can't do and we'll just have to keep on living as a couple. Lots of couples live happily without children, besides, think of the agony of childbirth that we'll be spared. Think of the finances that we will save, with your music career at its best right now and my candy business booming, we could afford to retire young if we wanted to."

"What happened to your childhood dream?" Lyra said calmly. "I mean, look at all families in Ponyville; the Cakes, the Apples,  Derpy and Dinky, even the humans. Don't they just seem so happy? So close and loving? Even your brother and his wife and kids are so happy with each other."

Bonbon wanted to rebut that, seeing as both her brother and his wife looked to be dead tired when they last visited, their hyper active foals climbing on all the furniture and threatening to break some very precious and valuable things in their rambunctious rampage. But Lyra had enjoyed having her niece and nephew over for a day. 

Bonbon pulled a biscuit out of the basket, spreading some jam on and taking a bite. "Speaking of the humans-" Bonbon nodded down the pathway that ran through Ponyville park, and Lyra turned her head to see what she was indicating. 

She flashed a smile and waved over at her human friend and her young daughter as they took a nice stroll through the park.

Sara noticed the waving pony, smiling and waving back. Carrying Sophie in her arm, she walked over to the pair of ponies on their picnic blanket. "Hi gals!" she said excitedly. 

"Hey Sara, what brings you out here today?" Lyra asked politely.

The human woman took an open corner of the blanket, sitting down gracefully and setting down her toddler. "Oh, not much. Fred's out with the boys and I thought that maybe I should try to get off the farm today and have some time for myself."

"Well good for you," Bonbon said earnestly. "How is your little farm doing?"

Sara took a moment to calculate in her head, nodding at the handsome profits they should be raking in fairly soon. "Pretty good, the fish are maturing much quicker than either of us expected, and we even started dredging out a new pond. Things are pretty good for us here in Ponyville. Say, are there any good plays in any theaters right now? It's been literally more years than I care to count since Fred and I had a little date night."

"Well, Lyra and I had tickets to go see Canterlot Gardens, but the show didn't receive very good reviews. Hey hon, isn't Les Droits de Petit Chevals in Canterlot right now?"

"The one starring Curtains Up?" Lyra replied between bites of an orange.

"Yeah, that one."

"Oh Celestia yes. Sara, you should see it, if not just for Curtains. He's such a charming actor, and I think they must have rigged the awards last year when they said he was only the runner up for Best Dramatic Lead. And to think that yokel Show Tunes won the Best Dramatic Lead award with his interpretation of Commander Hurricane in Days of Reckoning. I mean, come on! It's a female role that they gave to an effeminate stallion! There's seriously something wrong with those judges in my opinion."

Bonbon leaned over to the human woman. "Lyra played the harp in a few pit orchestras for those shows, she knows a lot of the theatrical big wigs through rehearsals and gets very opinionated sometimes," she whispered.

Sara giggled a little bit, stopping to grab a rock out of her daughter's blue aura and return it to the pathway. Lyra ignored them and kept ranting about what shows she had seen and been a part of. "And of course Curtains Up wouldn't be a name at all if it weren't for that role in The Steel Dictator. Did I ever tell you about that one, Bonnie? He played such a good Vulcanos that ponies in the crowd were actually trembling! Talk about projecting your voice! And I may have played a small part in it when I did a dramatic harp solo for the scene in the baths." Lyra sat smugly, holding her head high and proudly taking a drink out of her cup.

Bonbon rolled her eyes, groaning in exasperation. "Again with the harp solo. Lyra, you might want to get an ice pack, your head is getting a little swollen there."

Lyra snapped out of her little soliloquy. "So anyway, Bonnie and I have season tickets, and we probably aren't going to use them. I mean, can you find any break in your schedule so that we can go see a play?"

"Unfortunately no," Bonbon replied, knowing that both were too tied up in their work to take the several hour train ride to Canterlot, spend the day in the capital and finally see the show once before taking the train back to Ponyville and getting back at around two in the morning.

"So yeah," Lyra said, "We could probably just give you and your husband our tickets as a little gift."

Sara smiled, giving Lyra a pat on the shoulder. "What would I do without friends like you? Oh, dang it! I'd need to find a babysitter for Sophie. Pinkie would be game for it, but she's so tied up with those twins all the time."

"Oh that's no big deal, Bonnie and I could watch her for awhile," Lyra replied. Looking down at the human toddler, she smiled. "We could have so much fun! Go on, tell Mommy, 'I'd love to spend time with Mrs Lyra!'" she coddled in a baby talk.

Sophia giggled, taking a few toddling steps forward before taking a tumble into Lyra's forelegs. Carefully catching the child, Lyra felt her heart gushing with love as she wrapped her tiny arms around her forelegs and gave a little hug. 

"Awwwwwwww," Bonbon cooed, "You are so good with children."

Leaning down, Lyra nuzzled Sophia's soft crown of black hair. "She really is something special, Sara. You're one...lucky woman." The unicorn stifled a sorrowful hiccup, holding back a tear for her own failure. 

Sara looked on at her child resting comfortably in Lyra's hooves. "You really are good mother material, Lyra. It's a shame about....your problem."

"I know," Lyra replied meekly. "It's probably for the best though. I'd make a terrible mom. I can barely keep myself out of trouble, and I just don't have the experience to be a mom."

"Don't say that! You'd make a great mom, you're kind, fun-loving, you have an even temperament and so far I've seen you keep a pretty cool head. Besides, what mother conceives her first child and knows everything she'll need to know? And so what if you can't conceive? Why not make a child's life better by becoming their mother when they need someone in their life?"

Lyra glanced up and into Sara's eyes. "You really think I should adopt? You're the second of my friends that has told me I should skip pregnancy and just adopt."

"Well, if two different people came to the same conclusion, it can't really be a bad idea, can it? Why bring another life into this world when you can enrich one that needs love? Trust me, I spent two thousand years as a spirit in the care of someone  who fancies herself as the ultimate adoptive mother, it's the right thing to do and you won't regret it."

Lyra glanced over at Bonbon, and once her eyes met with her partner's she noticed something she had not seen in months. A tiny little glimmer of light that glowed with hope, and without words the unicorn knew that Bonbon wanted to take that step and become a mother, even if she wasn't the bearer of their foal. "Bonbon? Do you really think we could?"

Bonbon leaned over and gave her love a nuzzle. "I don't think that not only we could, I think we should."

"I love you," she whispered back, careful to protect the human child still clinging to her aquamarine fur.

Sara cleared her throat loudly, interrupting the special and intimate moment between the mares. "Glad to help out, but Sophie and I had really better be goin-" Her awkward goodbye speech was interrupted a noise on the wind. The human turned her head westward, listening intently. Sara's smile turned very quickly into an annoyed frown. "Oh hell, what are they doing around here?"

"Who is doing what?" Bonbon asked, picking up the sound that was steadily growing louder by the second. Lyra strained to listen, catching what sounded like a wasp of titanic proportions heading their direction. But the buzz began to filter into separate sounds, like a whupwhupwhupwhupwhup that seemed to rattle the very air and reverberate off the trees. 

The noise grew into a cacophonous din, and both ponies slapped their hooves to their ears to try and drown out the increasing flurry of noise. "What is that?!" Lyra almost shouted.

"You'll see," Sara calmly replied, scooping up her child and walking away as if some trio of gigantic monsters wasn't approaching on the horizon. Both Lyra and Bonbon turned to the horizon to catch a glimpse of a trio of black shapes emerge from over the trees and make a beeline for Ponyville.


***************************************************


"Fold."

"Pansy! That's the fifth hand in a row!"

"Well I recall no rule stating that I must play boldly!" Dr Whooves said in his defense, laying all five of his cards on the table face down in the fifth hand he had been dealt.

"Alright, let's take a look at those cards, see what Mr Know When to Hold 'Em dropped this round." Aaron scooped up the cards, flipping them over. "Oh come on! Three fives, a jack and a deuce! You coulda won if you stayed! How am I going to take your money if you don't start playing like a man?"

Dr Whooves scowled, dealing out another hand of cards. "Well there's your problem, I'm not a 'man' as you call it, I'm what we call in the anthropological field call a 'stallion'."

"Some stallion you are," the human muttered, throwing down two cards and drawing another pair, "When was the last time you hit on a mare?"

His question went unanswered as a flush resounded from the general direction of the bathroom, Fred Coppell walking out and drying his hands on his pants. "Hey, uh, Doc. You're out of hand soap, so I had to use a little from your shower."

"What kind of soap?" the brown earth pony asked quizzically.

Aaron wiggled his fingers in the air. "Hand soap. You know, for washing hands?"

"Oh, all I have is good old hoof soap. I warn you though, it probably will burn your exposed skin."

Fred meandered through the massive stacks of papers, precarious piles of quirky mechanics and sat down in his chair, pulling into the table and grabbing a cigar out of an open box. Plugging it into his teeth, he lit it up and took a long draw. "Good tobacco you got here, Whooves."

"Thank you, I try to please."

"Okay, back to my question," Aaron interrupted. 

"What was your question?" Fred inquired.

Aaron scooped out a chip full of salsa and drained it down with a swig of beer. Wiping his lip, he continued. "When was the last time he got frisky with a girl."

Fred reached across the table and placed a hand consolingly on Dr Whoove's shoulder. "Now son, it's important to have a healthy sex life, but you can't keep starving yourself like you do. And it's completely okay to maybe 'release' some tension once in a while."

The pony scowled and batted off the human's hand. "Stop that! I'm not your son, I'm thirty years old, and I have a very healthy...bedroom life."

Aaron jabbed a finger into the pony's side. "Then fess up! When was the last time you got laid, boyo?"

Fred stared blankly at his fellow human. "Did you just say 'boyo'?"

"Yeah, I kind of went through that 'kiss me I'm Irish' phase in my late teens. But don't shift the attention elsewhere! We're prying on him! Come on Whoovesy, when was the last time you got freaky with a filly?"

Dr Whooves lay his ears flat and ground his teeth in a rage. "Alright! It was about fourteen months ago with a nice lady that you don't know!"

"Geez dude, just an innocent question. No need to flip out......unless you're embarrassed!"

"I AM NOT EMBARRASSED!" the Doc shouted.

"Then just chill out," Fred said calmly, taking a swig of cold beer.

Aaron waggled his fingers in the air, a devious grin and a slight glow of magic tingling around him. "Naw, now I'm too curious to go back. Let's take a looksie, shall we!" he said suddenly, slapping a glowing hand to Dr Whooves' forehead.

"Hey! What in the blazes are you doing?!"

Aaron's face went through various expressions while he did his magical work while keeping his hand on the wriggling Dr Whooves. "Oh nothing special, just sifting through your memories. Damn, it's so tidy in here! It's like a warehouse of files! Let me see; old travel memories, boring. Technical schematics for crazy inventions, boring as all hell. What you ate for lunch through all of fifth grade, give me a break how boring is that? Oooohhh!!" he squealed in delight. "What do we have hyar! Old love letters!"

Dr Whooves redoubled his efforts to disentangle from the human's magical grasp. "No, no! Stay out of there! I cast you out, demon!"

"Aaron, I think you should stop while you're behind," Fred warned from his side of the table.

"No way, this is too much fun! Let me see, let's move through the older ones. Hearts and Hooves letters to classmates, yadda yadda, note to a crush in high school, here we are! Fourteen months ago you went on a sexy date with-" He bit his lip, withdrawing his hand slowly and leaning back to his side of the table. "Oh Doc, the mailmare? I didn't know you went for-"

"A charming personality, a good sense of humor, and more than looks? Why yes, I DO!" the Doc said venomously.

"Okay okay! Just...be cool man. Sorry about that." Aaron grabbed the cast aside deck of cards, dealing out another hand. Swiping up his cards, Dr Whooves almost immediately tossed out three. Tossing three back from the pile, a light of mischief and a horrible thought passed through his mind. "Sssssooooooooo.....that filly of hers...."

"It's not mine," Dr Whooves said, answering his question very curtly. "Since you want to pry into my life so much, you might as well return the favor. When was the last time you pleased a lady? And doing it by yourself does not count, mind you."

Beads of sweat formed on Aaron's face, and he tugged at his shirt collar. "Uh, well, you see, the thing is....Fred! Why don't you go first?"

Mr Coppell stared intently at his cards, occasionally glancing out at the table. "What time is it?" he asked after breathing out a stream of cigar smoke.

Dr Whooves checked a pocket watch. "Why, it's one o'clock, why do you ask?"

"About fifteen hours ago," he replied, holding an open palm out for Aaron, who promptly slapped him a high-five. "Despite what all you bachelors say, marriage has its perks. And now it's your turn, buddy boy."

"Crap," Aaron muttered. "Well, you see, I don't get to be around many humans. And even fewer single women. You know what? A gentleman never tells!"

"Cut the excuses, nancy-boy! When was the last time? If you don't tell, I know where we can go to get a straight answer, and I know She will gladly tell us," Fred said with a smirk on his face. Dr Whooves chuckled maniacally, staring across the table with devilish intent.

Aaron sweated it out, shaking in his seat. "Oh alright! Stacy Hammond, winter of 2016! She went cold for two months and then dumped me and killed my cat! Then the whole world went freaking 'Planet of the Ponies' and I haven't had the time to really get out there."

Both of the other's faces squelched up, and they glanced at each other, holding it in. "BWAHAHAHA! Aaron, you do realize that means you've gone well over two thousand years without getting laid! And you gave us crap? You don't have a platform to stand on! You're drowning in Celibacy Creek!"

"I hate you guys right now," Aaron murmured, embarrassed beyond all belief. "I'm a priest...or something. I have to stay celibate for my service to my Goddess."

No you don't, I fully encourage a healthy dose of what you organisms refer to as 'sex'. As long as it is consensual and obeys all of your laws. Of course, it couldn't come to within one ten-thousandth of what I do for stimulatory pleasure.

"Shut up, nobody asked you!"

Don't talk to me like that or I will broadcast your dirtiest secrets on every radio frequency across the planet. By the way, did you ever finish our little present for your kin?

"Yeah, it's ready and I'm waiting for a good time to present it."

Don't get comfy, that opportunity is coming sooner than you think.

Dr Whooves and Fred stared in utter boredom at Aaron. "Can you at least let us in on the conversation, Aaron? It's like being in the room with a schizophrenic while they talk to the voices in their head."

"No, it's a surprise. Now whose turn is it to deal-"

His question was abruptly stopped by a humming sound that vibrated the windows and began to increase in ferocity as it approached.

"What in the flaming pit of Tartarus is that racket?" Dr Whooves asked.

Both Fred and Aaron grinned as they stood from the table and rushed over to the nearest window. "Oh my, the cavalry has indeed arrived. What are they doing out here?"

Dr Whooves squeezed between them, catching a glimpse of a black shape as it pulled over the town square of Ponyville, its spinning bladed wings creating enough noise and wind to blow dust storms out into the streets. "What is that thing?!" the pony said fearfully. The more he looked at this thing, the more it screamed of human war machinery. Four blades spun overhead in a blinding blur, keeping the main body of the aircraft aloft. It had a sleek and slender black body that tapered out into a tail with another set of spinning blades mounted for stability. Tinted windows greeted the onlookers, concealing any signs of life on the inside.

"Sikorsky UH 60L Black Hawk utility aircraft. Medium weight, capable of carrying ten thousand pounds of cargo. Looks like she's not hauling anything though, strange," Aaron replied in answer to the earth pony's question. "Oh, lookie there, she's got an escort of two Boeing AH-64 Apache gunships. See 'em up there?" He pointed out the other two helicopters flying much higher overhead. In comparison, they made their utility cousin look bulbous and fat. Sleek and planar, the Apaches were equipped with far more gadgets than the simple troop transport. And from the look of some of those attachments, Dr Whooves guessed them to be a truly awesome arsenal of flying death.

"Are they here to kill us?" Dr Whooves asked, his voice trembling in an instinctive fear. 

Aaron glanced down at the pony and smirked. "If they were here for that, we wouldn't even have heard them coming. We would be dead already in a smoldering crater. Those Hellfire missiles on the Apaches have an effective range of five miles."

"That's how we humans fight," Fred murmured, "We'll kill you before you can even see us."

"What are they up to?"  Aaron asked nobody in particular. The Blackhawk broke away from its formation, dropping low over town square and banking to the right. The Blackhawk circled town square twice before coming to a hover about one hundred feet overhead. Aaron's eyes snapped wide as he realized what they wanted. "They're looking for a landing zone! Oh shit, let's hope the pegasi don't caught up in those blades!"

Both humans and the pony bolted out the door and into the busy street, shoving through the crowds of townsponies that had come to gawk at the noisy intruder. A few ponies in police uniforms pushed through the crowds with crossbows at the ready, believing the hovering machine to be some kind of unknown monster come to raze Ponyville.

Both humans forcibly lowered the policeponies crossbows. "Don't shoot! It's just a transport! It's my people!" Aaron shouted over the noise. "Clear the market! Get all those carts out of the way!"

Several townsfolk obliged, very quickly pulling strapping into their carts and pulling them full force out of the way. Lighting up his hands in a fluorescent glow, the magic wielding human waved his hands in a 'safe landing' pattern to the cockpit. The pilot seemed to understand, and confirmed the visual display by slowly coming down to land in the cleared market square. Cutting the engines, the massive helicopter landed with a bounce on its landing gear, the spinning blades above coming slowly to a rest.

A black door unlatched and slid open, three human soldiers in full forest fatigues and combat gear hopping out and dropping to a kneeling position, their guns at the ready in case the assembled crowd of harmless technicolor ponies decided to get mean. 

Seeing no immediate threat, the soldier in center waved back into the chopper and rose from his shooting position. Stalking out of the crowd, Aaron walked over to the trio of soldiers and shouted, "Atten-HUT!" the trio immediately stiffened, moving their rifles to a resting position by their sides and snapping a hand stiffly in salute. "Alright, who is in charge here?"

"Sergeant Major Holloway, sir!" one replied. 

"And may First Lieutenant Patterson speak with Sergeant Major Holloway?" Aaron replied, speaking in third person to indicate his rank. 

"Sir, yes sir!" The soldier turned around and shouted into the helicopter cockpit. Moments later, a man not wearing a combat helmet and bearing the six stripes and single star of a Sergeant Major swung out lazily, giving a salute to his superior officer.

Aaron returned his obeisance. "At ease, soldier. First Lieutenant Aaron Patterson, ambassador to the Realm of Equestria." He extended a hand in greeting to his fellow man.

The soldier gripped his hand firmly and shook once. "Sergeant Major James Holloway, First Terran Infantry. And may I say it is an honor to meet you, sir."

"Okay, all that crap aside, what are you doing out here? From the apparent success of my diplomacy with the Princesses, we aren't at war with Equestria. And judging by your escorts you came to do some serious fighting." 

Holloway nodded. "Yes sir. But we're not here to fight the ponies. There's actually several reasons we're out here, sir. Our detachment has been contracted by the Equestrian diarchy to assist their soldiers in suppression of a bandit group near old Bangor in Maine."

"Contracted? Let me see your mission specs." Holloway dug a scrap of paper out of one of his many pockets, handing it over to Aaron. Scanning it over, Aaron came close to tearing it apart in rage. "Since when did Terran soldiers start selling themselves as mercenaries!?"

Holloway took a step back, his hand unconsciously slipping over to his side where his various forms of self defense lay, fully knowing Aaron's magical potential. "Sir, High Command does not see this as mercenary work. The Republic is in an overwhelming economic debt to Equestria and we see this service as a way to alleviate their loans."

Aaron groaned loudly, handing back the official orders from the Republic's commanding general, signed by both Terran General Pilotte and Equestrian General Steel Specter. "What else you got to rain on my parade?" 

"For you, this." Once again Holloway reached into a pocket, pulling out a sealed letter and handing it over. The letter itself was very hefty, as though it contained several sets of notes. "And are Republic sources correct when they assume this is the resident town of Frederick and Sara Coppell?"

Fred walked up to the Sergeant Major. "Yeah, I'm Fred Coppell. What do you guys want with me?"

Holloway gave a mischievous grin. "We got a little package for you." He turned back to his boys in the chopper. "Alright boys! This is the right place! Let her out!"

Several of the soldiers laughed as they gently let a young woman out of the helicopter bay. "Ugh! Hands off, you brutes!" she shrilly shouted back. They only laughed even louder, one of them leaning out and puckering his lips at their former charge. 

Sergeant Major Holloway laughed like a madman, shaking his head before climbing back into the Blackhawk and signalling for the pilot to take off, leaving the young woman behind. Glancing up from his sealed letter, Aaron's eyes went wide, and the thick stack of papers fell out of his hands. She wore a grey, professional woman's attire, with a calf length skirt. Her blonde hair was tied back in a bun, and her blue eyes, delicate cheekbones and carefully plucked eyebrows were hidden behind horn rimmed glasses that threatened to slide down her slender nose. 

Smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt, she muttered to herself about being pinched and manhandled nearly the entire way to Ponyville. Clutching a small briefcase in her delicate fingers, the young woman awkwardly walked over to Fred, the heels on her stilettos getting caught in every crack in the cobblestone street, and extended a hand. "Anita Cook, Republic Social Services. I assume you are Mr Coppell?"

Fred took her hand and shook it carefully. "Uh, yeah, that's me. Pardon me for asking, but why is the Republic sending a social worker out here to see me?"

Ms Cook opened her briefcase, pulling out a profile folder. "This is the residence of Sophia Coppell? The Republic Senate has recently passed a bill stating that we must keep tabs on all newly born human beings. I'm here to inspect her living conditions and the local healthcare system, educational programs, and anything else that may pose a risk to the development of your child."

"Risk? Sophie is in a great environment!" Fred tried to rebut.

"I never said there was negligence or a risk to your child involved, Mr Coppell. But we need to be to sure, every human child is precious to us, and we will go well out of our way to protect our next generation."

While Fred and the social worker continued to chatter away, the crowds in Ponyville began to disperse. The engines of the Blackhawk cut out all other noise for a few moments, then became quiet as it flew away to rejoin its escorts. And only then were Lyra, Bonbon and Mrs Coppell able to make it to town square.

Lyra walked over next to her good friend and stood side by side with Dr Whooves, who had remained silent throughout the entire exchange with the humans. "What's going on?" she asked her Trottingham friend.

"Well," he whispered back, "Apparently the humans are taking military contracts with Equestria and Aaron isn't too pleased with that. The Coppells are having a social worker inspect their home and Ponyville in general, as ordered by their government. And then there's the mystery package." He indicated the package that lay mostly forgotten in the dirt, Aaron staring rather dumbly at Ms Cook while she was preoccupied with the Coppells.

"What's his problem?" Lyra asked, pointing a hoof at the silent and staring human man. 

Dr Whooves poked him in the side, yet he remained unresponsive. Cocking back his hoof, his shoved his human friend rather hard.

"I wasn't staring!" Aaron said rather defensively and in a rush, snapping out of his daze.

The Doc grinned. "I know that look. Somepony's got a little crush."

"On her? No, no.....maybe a little. Okay, hell yes. I mean, look at that!" he quietly whispered. "Talk about a woman in uniform, HROW!" he growled like a tiger.

Dr Whooves squinted at the young woman in the grey suit. "I...I don't really see any attractive qualities."

"That's because you're a pony! Watch when she walks away. Carefully though, we don't want to look like pervs." Ms Cook did exactly that, following the Coppells to their farmhouse on the outskirts of town. And those stilettos did their job perfectly, each step came with a sensual sway of her curvaceous hips.

"Okay, I can see some kind of attraction there."

"You're damn right there, buddy. I think I might have to show her around Ponyville, maybe talk about local issues over dinner."

Dr Whooves took one more glance before shrugging and trotting away. "Well, best of luck. Maybe you can finally break your dry spell!"

Both Lyra and Bonbon had stared in confusion at the bachelor males, and when Dr Whooves left, Bonbon nudged Lyra and motioned to the envelope on the ground. Grabbing up the envelope with her magic, she gently tugged on his shirt sleeve. "I believe you dropped this, Mr Patterson, sir," she said as politely and sweetly as possible.

"Huh? Oh! Thanks," he replied in surprise, just noticing Lyra and Bonbon for the first time. Tearing open the envelope, he pulled out what looked to be about fifteen copies of the same letter and one sheet of paper that looked military in origin. unfolding his orders, he began to read it to himself. "First Lieutenant Patterson....yadda yadda......recalled to the Republic? Why have I been recalled?" He continued to read on. "'Please present these invitations to the leaders of Equestria and to the  Elements of Harmony. We are also in need of entertainers for our plan.' Entertainers?"

He cocked an eyebrow, and looked up from his letter. Spying Lyra, he nodded in approval. "Mrs Heartstrings, you play an instrument, right?"

"Yeah!" she exclaimed excitedly, "I play both the lyre and the harp professionally."

"Good, you want to take a little vacation? Maybe earn some money while you're at it?"

Glancing at Bonbon, the earth pony nodded heartily. If anything, both of them needed a well earned vacation. "I don't see why not."

"Then you're hired. You'll be playing at a gala in my home country in about a week. You'll need to bring your own instruments though, and enough money to pay for food and lodging until my government can pay you."

Lyra's jaw fell, and her eyes were filled with stars. "Your country? You mean....I get to see the human nation?" She turned over to Bonbon, who was just as gobsmacked at this offer of such a rare invitation. "Can we? Do you think we could find the time?" Bonbon only nodded, still in shock about the suddenness of it all.

"Here's your invitation. And one for your wife while I'm at it." He passed them two of the letters, turning about to either give out the rest of them, or see what he could do about getting Ms Cook's attention.

"Can you believe it? We're going to see where the humans come from!" Lyra said, nearly bouncing out of her horseshoes. "We're gonna see their country, experience everything about the human culture, and we're BOTH going! Maybe...maybe things are starting to look up for us," she said before hugging Bonbon tightly around the neck.


******************************************************


I'm having trouble thinking of a proper flag for The Republic, so I might need you guys to help out a tiny bit with a design and basic colors. Any suggestions? 
> The City of Man
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lyra looked with a discerning eye out over the many choices she and Bonbon had. There were simply too many to choose from, and none of them seemed to catch her eye any more than the previous one. 

"Well Lyra, what do you think?" Bonbon whispered to her as she scanned each potential candidate. 

"I...I'm not sure. But I think we've agreed that we're looking to raise a filly," she replied. 

The mare couple was not shopping for dresses, nor perusing for formal slippers for their upcoming trip to the illustrious and mysterious Republic of Terra. Nay, today they had made their decision. They would become a family, and they would enrich the life of a child in need to do it. The residents of Canterlot's orphanage played, studied, or simply rested on their beds here in the orphanage bedrooms, each one a child left here by parents that could not support them or by cruel fate. 

The matron of the orphanage stood ready with them, her grey mane curled back in a bun and threatening to slip loose with the excitement of a potential adoption. "If it will help you young ladies," she told them, "We could set you up with a little 'interview' with one of our children. I assure you, each one is proper and well schooled in their manners."

Lyra glanced out again at the room that was scarce with children. Her expectations had fallen fairly short with this visit, and her eye couldn't seem to rest on any child in particular. They were surprisingly few in number, and all of them fairly old to be in an orphanage. Her gaze drifted to a brown pegasus colt hovering over the beds, sticking his tongue out at a unicorn filly as she tried to get her dolly back from him. A pair of twin, peach coated earth ponies read identical books on their opposing beds, the only difference being the color of their blueberry and blackberry cutie marks.

And they were the youngest of the lot. Even the unicorn filly trying to get her doll back from the troublesome pegasus colt had a cutie mark. And that was the deal breaker for Lyra, all of these children seemed too old, some of them even verging on teenage life and puberty. If anything she wanted to raise a baby as her own, not foster some half grown filly until she could get a place of her own. Adopting some gangling teen almost defeated the entire purpose of being a parent. In Lyra's mind, a person needed to raise their child from birth (or near birth), be there for each achievement in their life, help them up when they fell, kiss their boo-boo when they got hurt, and be there to give that encouraging smile when they walked through the doorway on their first day of school.

"Don't you have any younger children?" she rather blithely asked the matron.

The older mare sighed, the potential for an adoption seeming to slip away with each passing second. "How young were you thinking, Miss?" 

"Well, you know, little foals." Lyra folded her forelegs, slightly rocking them to indicate a very small and very young foal that she wanted to raise.

The matron pushed her glasses back up her nose, shaking her head slightly. "I'm sorry, we just haven't had any young foals in months. Most of them find loving families very quickly. And with those new creatures out there taking out all sorts of loans and buying Equestrian goods by the trainload, the economy has been in its best state in over a century. Many ponies are much more financially secure and more comfortable raising a family nowadays." 

Lyra gave a very loud and audible sigh of defeat. So, this was what it boiled down to. In a very indirect fashion, the humans were to blame for the poor selection of adoptable children. A strange side effect of their reemergence after two millenia of absence, and not altogether a bad one for the family scene and the economy. But still one that had the ultimate detriment upon the life of poor Lyra. Even though she seemed to be the pony who might receive the most personal benefit from the human race, she had been one of the few to have little positive influence from the creatures. 

On the other hoof, the positive human influence in the marketplace just might explain the recent rise in expensive parties by rich business owners and investors, and by that proxy, the recent success in her musical career. The humans, oh what a double edged sword they were.

"And the humans strike back," she hissed under her breath. "Is this revenge for shooting Mr Patterson? Is the universe out to get me?"

"I beg your pardon?" the orphanage matron inquired, raising an eyebrow in confusion. 

Bonbon flashed a false grin to hopefully cover the situation. "My wife and I are going on a little business trip in a few days. She was just commenting that we will have to take that time to make our decision. Right, Lyra?" Bonbon growled through her teeth.

Catching her cue, Lyra scrambled to return to the conversation. "Oh, uh, yeah! I just said, um, 'I wonder what dresses will fit me.'"

"Dang," the elder mare said dejectedly, losing any hope of pawning off one of those snot nosed, troublemaking ruffians today. "Well, take your time ladies. And remember, our doors are always open here!" Spinning on her hooves, the matron turned and left for her office, leaving Lyra and Bonbon alone in the orphanage lobby. 

Bonbon turned to leave, with Lyra at her tail. "You seem a little bit distracted, honey bun," Bonbon commented off-hoofedly. 

"You think?" Lyra replied. "Why can't it work out for us? Why are we constantly getting thrown under the carriage by luck?"

"Look Lyra, we could just adopt one of the older children. There's nothing wrong with them, they're just a little...bigger, than what we want. We both agreed we wanted a filly, and there were several good fillies in there. This isn't a matter of luck at all, you're just being too picky. We should just adopt one of the fillies and see where life takes us from there."

"But what's the point? They live with us for a few years, maybe even call us 'Mom' once or twice as a courtesy. Then they go off to college or move out and we never see or hear from them again except for the slight chance of a Hearth's Warming card during the holidays!"

Bonbon sighed, agreeing in her mind that what Lyra said was probably the most plausible outcome. Even if they did adopt one of those children, there wouldn't be much love from either party. The entire relationship between mothers and their adopted daughter would be based on pity and the strain of a last resort. So, maybe this wasn't the right option. Maybe those children would be better off with a different family, or even just moving into productive roles in society.

Just as Bonbon reached the door, it swung open from the outside, nearly smacking the custard mare on the nose. 

"Excuse me," an orange pegasus filly said as she bustled in the door, tugging a box of clothing in a little red wagon. 

"Huh?" Lyra said aloud. "Scootaloo? You live here at the orphanage? That's....perfect! Bonbon! We could adopt Scootaloo!"

"Well actually-" Scootaloo tried to interrupt.

"Hey, you're right! She's still young, and we could have so much fun raising her as our own daughter!" Bonbon scooped up the filly, giving her a rib crushing hug to her chest. "You're going to love being a Heartstring! You'll have your own room, and your own toys, and we'll sing you to sleep at night! We'll have birthday parties and we'll celebrate all your important milestones with cakes and balloons!" Bonbon crooned, gently rocking the pegasus as she tried desperately to get free.

Scootaloo tried to defer, struggling to wriggle free from Bonbon's hooves. "For cryin' out loud! What's with the lubby-dubby weirdo?! Put me down! I'm not up for adoption!" 

Bonbon's eyes snapped open in surprise, and without ceremony she dumped Scootaloo back onto the floor. "You're...not up for adoption?"

"No! Why the flying feather does everypony assume I'm an orphan?!" Scootaloo replied, desperately rubbing a hoof on her cheek where Bonbon had planted a kiss.

"Well, nopony has ever really seen your parents around, and frankly nopony even knows where you live," said Lyra. "Boy do I feel like a goof. Sorry about that kiddo," she said sheepishly, running a hoof through her mane in embarrassment. "But what exactly are you doing at the orphanage with a bunch of clothes?"

The filly glared at Lyra, her violet eyes threatening to shoot daggers into Lyra's heart. "Donating them! What else do you do with old clothes? And for your information, I live on Bayberry Lane with my mom and dad, and I come here once a week to volunteer!"

"Damn," Bonbon muttered, "So close to getting a good one there. All apologies, Ms Scootaloo, just got caught up in the moment. And I would like to say that you are a very kind and community minded little filly, giving up so much of your time for such a good cause."

"It's court ordered," Scootaloo murmured, grabbing the handle of her wagon and pulling it along.


**************************************************


Today was the day! Lyra could hardly contain her excitement as she neatly and delicately placed her lyre into a trunk, padded with extraneous clothing. Well, the day her trip started. It was a full two day train ride to the human city, so far across the horizon, further than any pony had dared to settle and in territory that the bison considered both sacred and haunted.

"Oh Lyra," came a sultry voice. "Whaddya think of this one?" Bonbon crept around the jamb of the doorway, wearing that blue silk dress that hugged her flank. "Am I gonna be the belle of the ball or what?" She gave her flank a little shake, setting of an explosion of lust in the unicorn. 

"Stop it, we're leaving in two hours, we don't have time for that," Lyra countered, trying her best not to get seduced mere hours before the departure on the greatest trip of her life.

"Time for what, darling? I am merely practicing my promenade for the gala of the year. Pray tell, does miss have a companion for the ball?" Bonbon said in her most posh and ostentatious brogue. 

"Well," Lyra started, "I've got this plain-jane candy maker I was thinking about dragging along, but you've got a little something going on there." She looped a foreleg around Bonbon's neck, kissing her on the cheek. Her horn still glowed gold, packing her clothes carefully around her precious lyre. That was her money maker, and without that precious instrument and its companion harp being carefully packed in a velvet lined case downstairs, they wouldn't have this opportunity at all.

"Are you packed and ready?" Lyra asked.

Bonbon rolled her eyes, quickly taking off her dress, folding it neatly and placing it delicately in her trunk. "Alright! I'm ready, we just have to lock up and leave our keys with Dr Whooves."

"Okay, I have our boarding passes to get on the train, which arrives in thirty minutes, boards passengers and cargo for another another hour and then leaves. Which leaves us thirty minutes to get our baggage down to Ponyville station and get our baggage checked. Are you absolutely, positively sure you got everything you needed?"

"Yes, Mom," Bonbon groaned, "I'm positive that I packed everything we'll need. Now how about you, did you remember your toothbrush this time? Because you forgot it that one time we went to see my sister in Manehattan, and your breath smelled like hay fries the entire time."

Lyra quickly levitated a toothbrush from the bathroom medicine cabinet into the bag, hoping that Bonbon wouldn't notice this continual slip up in her memory. Straining her magical abilities to the limit, Lyra levitated both hers and Bonbon's trunks in her aura, taking them carefully down the stairs and grabbing her encased harp to add to the pile.

Dropping them carefully outside the door, Lyra panted as she waited for Bonbon to finish their pre-trip checklist.

"Okay, we turned off the stove, check. Closed all the windows, check. Latched the storm shutters, check. Made sure we had no perishable food that wasn't properly stored, check. And last but not least, front door locked," Bonbon took their keys in her teeth, closing and locking the door with an audible click. "Check. Now let's have us one heck of a vacation!" Bonbon trotted off towards the station, leaving Lyra up to her eyeballs in luggage.

Twenty minutes of lugging each and every heavy trunk down to the train station, Lyra dumped them in a careful heap, waiting for the routine inspection of her luggage and the clearance to get her baggage checked. Bonbon appeared by her side, appearing pleasantly calm despite the complete equivocation of what was going to transpire. 

How can she be so calm like that?, Lyra thought to herself. This was most certainly a once in a lifetime opportunity, one that ponies told to their children and regaled to their grandchildren in their golden years. The tale where grandma received a personal invitation to come and perform her art in the city of the Men. And if she weren't so beaten from dragging their bags across town, the aquamarine unicorn would have been shivering with glee on that train station bench. Hey, magic didn't make hauling that crap any easier, it just strained something other than her muscles. 

A far away whistle carrying on the wind was the first sign of the Friendship Express, the gaudy and lacy steam engine that carried passengers hither and thither across the expanses of Equestria. Lyra had to ride the train quite a bit due to the travel requirements of her job, and she decided early on that there must be at least a dozen of those pink and fru-fru trains chugging about Equestria at any given time, otherwise nothing would ever get done with just one train. 

The passenger train pulled into the station, a contrail of puffy white smoke drifting in behind it and washing over the platform.  The brakes screeched as the Friendship Express slowed to a halt, and the engineer gave the whistle a tug, letting out its shrill acknowledgement to the town of Ponyville. 

"Welp, here's our ride," Lyra proclaimed. Passing off their tickets, both mares boarded and picked a nice booth to take. And almost immediately when they crossed the threshold into the passenger car, they noticed they were far from alone. Most of the booths were occupied with what looked like Canterlot nobility. Lyra looked beyond the well dressed ponies who conversed lowly, many turning up their noses at the very quaint hamlet of Ponyville, and was stunned to see what looked like a few gryphon clan lords and some minotaur merchant guildsmen. Creatures from several backgrounds and locales all occupied the passenger car, even a few from species she was not very familiar with. But the one uniting factor was the apparent wealth displayed by every individual. A quick glance and some calculations natural to a pony raised in Canterlot made Lyra guess that some of those upper crusts were wearing more gold and jewels than she made in several months.

"Wow," she said under her breath. Spotting an empty booth, she and Bonbon quickly filled it, stowing their carry-on luggage in the seat compartment. Lyra sighed in delight as she kicked back in the seat, leaning her head over and looking out the window. "Humanland, here we come."

Outside the train, more ponies arrived at the station bearing their luggage, passing it off to a platform worker and boarding the train. Those six mares came along happily, chatting about their return to the infant nation they had left in peace over a year ago. And then the two humans came. Dr Patterson, along with Ms Cook, Aaron being a gentleman and carrying what little luggage Ms Cook had brought along. 

She's still here? Lyra thought to herself. Well, it kind of made sense. None of the human trains that passed through Ponyville were passenger trains, and that strange black monstrosity that brought her hadn't come back this way yet, so this was really the only way she could get back to her country. Did she stay with him? she pondered. Well, good for him.

But after dropping off her bags, Dr Patterson turned around and began to motion to some ponies carrying a very large crate between them. He appeared very concerned about the welfare of the crate, even steadying it with a stream of his own magic as they loaded it preciously into a cargo car. Satisfied with his object's safety, he grabbed a long, cylindrical bundle from his own pile of baggage, clutching it tightly yet gently. 

Boarding the train with his mysterious package, Lyra couldn't help but notice two things. First, Dr Patterson graciously extended a hand to Ms Cook, helping her aboard the train with a certain slight smile on his face. Second, and she had almost no doubt that all the other unicorns on the train felt the same thing, that even from this distance that mystery bundle was sending off arcane ripples like a stone thrown into a placid lake.


*********************************************************


The countryside of Equestria zipped by outside the window, becoming a wilder land as they edged away from the center of pony civilization and out towards the frontiers and closer to the center of human civilization. Aaron gently tucked away his bundle, being careful not to jostle it too much, lest he damage such a priceless object. He had no doubt some people wouldn't be too overjoyed when he presented it to his leaders as a gesture of goodwill to his people from the nation of Equestria, but he wasn't too concerned about it.

He sat down across from Ms Cook, whom he had graciously boarded in his newly built home on the outskirts of Ponyville whilst she conducted her survey of the town in all its glory. Unfortunately, that dinner he had said he would take her out to had not happened. Certain circumstances required his presence in Canterlot for a few last minute trade agreement details that could involve his people, and he had been stuck in negotiations for almost the entire week. Plus, he had to personally oversee the final preparations of his gift to the human race. Well, not him per se, but someone who knew what they were doing, in his body. Giving her a smile, he struck up a conversation.

"So, Ms Cook, how did you like Ponyville?"

Ms Cook returned the smile. "Well, it meets all government standards, and I must say it was a rather charming little place."

"Quite," Aaron replied. "In my opinion, Disneyland could never compare for the title of 'happiest place on Earth'. Sure it has suffered more natural disasters and monster attacks than any other town in Equestria. But trust me, the low taxes more than make up for it."

She chuckled politely, and Aaron got to see a dazzling sparkle in her sapphire blue eyes that set his heart aflutter. "Thank you for letting me stay with you, Mr Ambassador."

"Please, call me Aaron. And I apologize for my absence, duty calls and all that."

"Alright, Aaron," she said with a touch of novelty. "So, is it true what they say about you? When I was coming over in the helicopter, all of those soldiers said I was going to meet a legend in the flesh. Is it true that you fought in Operation Hammerstrike?"

Aaron let out an involuntary wince at the painful memories that came with the mention of Hammerstrike. "I didn't "fight" per se, but yes, I was present for Operation Hammerstrike, what ponies call the Day of Judgement. Since I was one of the few people from Greenewell that had ever talked eye to eye with a pony, they chose me to be a part of the parley force. And.....and I failed. We saw eye to eye, Cloud Hoof and I, but we both knew that neither of our peoples could back down. And after that....the bullets started flying." Aaron stopped to take a deep breath and control his emotions.

Anita regretted asking him a question that had become so personal and emotional. She knew many soldiers in the Republic, and none of them who fought during Hammerstrike told their tale without the ghosts of their fallen comrades hidden behind their stifled tears. "I'm so sorry for asking, forgive me," she said sympathetically.

"No, it's alright. It's just....I blame myself for a lot of things that happened that day. And even though I know for a fact that they would forgive me, I still can't help but feel the greatest regret. Even Cloud suffered to his dying day from the haunting memories."

"Who was Cloud?" she asked, knowing by the name alone that the person in question was most certainly not a human being.

The memory of his dear friend brought a smile back to his face. "General Cloud Hoof, first commander of the pegasus army, leader of Cloudsdale in its antiquity, and a dear friend of mine. We captured him as an earth pony a few weeks after the first Surge, and it was my job to question him and learn about what was happening. Then the second Surge hit, lo and behold the Earth Mother decides that Cloud gets to live his dream and sticks a pair of wings on his back. I never expected to find such an endearing friend in a pony, but he taught me that friendship and love have no barriers. That mare over there," he pointed to another booth, where Rainbow Dash fidgeted in her seat, bored beyond belief, "She's his descendant. I don't know if she knows it, but I see a lot of Cloud Hoof in her. And though she's arrogant and a braggart to boot, it's why I love Rainbow to death." He turned back to Anita, and saw what looked like a touch of disappointment flash in her eyes. "Like a sister," he added quickly. "Or even a niece."

And those sapphire eyes quickly gained a spark of light again, and Anita smiled. 

"Well," Aaron started again. "Look at me here, trying to kill the atmosphere. Enough about my hard times, I want to hear about you, Anita. What's your story?"

"Oh, I don't have much of a story. Nothing that could compare to anything you've ever done, or even that could compare to what half the people in Lazarus have to tell."

"Nonsense, everyone has a story to tell. And there's always someone who wants to hear it."

"You really want to hear my story?" she asked, honestly wondering why someone as important as the ambassador to Equestria would want to hear her tale. He gave a nod, and his brown eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Well, I'm originally from Newark, out in New Jersey. Or, what was New Jersey. You know, before ponies and dragons and stuff took a steamroller to the place. I was always a bit of girly girl, but I never went for things like cheerleading or any of that preppy stuff. Umm, I went to college at the University of Virginia, majoring in Social Sciences."

"You went to Virginia? I had a few colleagues that went there for research positions on the staff! Hey, did you know Kent Roth?"

Anita thought for a moment. "Really frizzy red hair, always pushed his glasses up his nose? I think he tutored biology?"

"That's the guy! He and I did postgraduate studies under Professor Bremme at Georgetown!"

"No kidding? I guess it is a small world after all."

"Anyways, sorry to interrupt your story. You were saying?"

Anita gave a laugh, leaping right back into her personal history. "After college I got a little job working in Indianapolis as a social worker for state child services. And when the Surges hit, I kind of lost my job along with the rest of society. I roughed it for a year or so, trying to survive when the monsters started coming. I tried my hand at gardening to grow food for all the people in my town, you know, since people didn't really need social workers after the apocalypse. But that didn't turn out so well. And when the soldiers from Greenewell showed up, looking for volunteers for Project Lazarus, I kind of told them a little fib and said I had a bit more manual labor skills and technical knowledge than I actually had. They ran me through a few blood tests, drove me to Greenewell....and you know the rest. Now I work for the Republic of Terra's Department of Social Services."

Aaron sat quietly, nodding his head and smiling at her quaint and short life story. "That was a good story."

"Stop teasing!" she said playfully.

"I'm serious! Up until the Surges all I could say about my life was the fact that I had a good cat and a job at the local bank."

Compliment her on her eyes, a certain ethereal voice intoned psionically in Aaron's head.

"What?" he said aloud.

"Hm?" Anita responded.

Give her a compliment on the beauty of her eyes, you twit.

"Gah, I'm sorry Anita. But you just have the prettiest sapphire eyes I have ever seen. And I have to admit, I don't really toss that around a lot."

A flush of crimson rose on her pale cheeks. "Thank you," she said sweetly. 

You've got her hooked, now reel her in.

Aaron took the goddess' advice to heart. "So, are you going to the big gala?"

Her grin slowly rose into a blushing smile. "I wan't exactly invited, but I've heard it will be the party of the year."

"Well, I have an extra invitation. Perhaps, maybe..." He couldn't seem to finish the sentence. That horrible effect of being a lovelorn male of any race was tangling the words in his throat and making his ears burn in both excitement and embarrassment. Damnable testosterone! And why did he have the feeling of that prying pseudo-deity laughing at his discomfort from the safety of her realm?

"Are you asking me out, Mr Patterson?" she asked very innocently, knowing how her natural feminine wiles were turning him to mush.

"Um, uh....yeah. Yeah, I guess I am, Ms Cook."

"Please," she said, reaching a hand up to her hair, expertly undoing her coiled bun and letting her blonde hair wash down over her shoulders. "Call me Ann," she said with a smile.


*********************************************************


The sun rose high in the sky, and swooped down low to the horizon, all the while the Friendship Express continued to plow across the Equestrian landscape. Quaint towns and hamlets gave way to endless tracts of fields growing their crops. Farmhouses dotted the landscape, singular signs of civilization, eventually dwindling away as the land changed once again to primal wilderness that threatened to choke out the very railroad track itself. Only the regular passage of the steam engine through this wild growth and thick forest kept it from being assimilated back into nature.

And like the transition from town to country and from farm to forest, the landscape once again changed on the dawn of the second day of Lyra's voyage. The forest began to thin, the hills and valleys of the forestlands giving way to more gently sloping hills and plains. Thick, golden grasses eventually conquered the trees entirely, and only hardy bushes and scrub brush claimed any holdout in the waving sea of grass.

And she learned through snippets of conversations overheard and through deep and engaging discussions with some of the other passengers that the humans had some very big opportunity planned for them, and that the only clue was that it involved great deals of money on the part of the invited guests. Both Lyra and Bonbon felt a little shorthanded, two middle class mares going to an event where the rich and wealthy from across several continents and nations would rub shoulders. Several times they questioned themselves, asking whether it would have been a good idea to bring a little more money or not.

A few times, Mr Patterson would leave his booth that he shared with the human woman, a grin on his face and a simple hum telling a tale of success. The fact he had a crush on a woman seemed to dampen his anger and fear of Lyra even more, and he even stopped by a few times for a relaxing chat, though he spent most of his time with Lyra and Bonbon dreamily fantasizing.

But those times were rare, and he spent most of his time chatting and laughing with Ms Cook in their booth. It was about noon on the second day when the train rolled through the desert-like plains and once again began to see signs of pony civilization. Appaloosa stood out on the flat horizon, the little frontier town having grown like a weed since the boom of trade that came through this part of the Equestrian frontier. It maintained that small town western charm; everypony wore a stetson hat or a bonnet to keep their heads cool, and tumbleweeds drifted through with the wind, but it began to take on the size and sophistication of a more central Equestrian town as more and more goods began to flow westward to the human country.

The Express blared out a shrill warning to the folks of Appaloosa, and the engineer in the engine began to ease onto the brakes. Like it had in Ponyville, the Express came to a perfect halt at the train station, right on time as usual. And when it came to a complete stop, the voice of the engineer magically came into each compartment.

"Folks, this is your conductor. The Friendship Express is at the end of her line, and all passengers headed further down the track to the human outpost of Gladstone will have to disembark. Your luggage will be transferred, free of charge, and we ask only that you exit in a neat and orderly fashion. Thank you for choosing Equestria Railways for your travel needs, and we hope to see you again."

Lyra stretched out her legs one at a time as she stood up from her seat. It had been comfy, sure, but being still for almost two days straight was no picnic. Magically levitating hers and Bonbon's carry on bags, she joined the stream of creatures filing out onto the platform to await the human passenger train to come through.

And with her last few days having sapped every minute of delicious sleep from her grasp, Lyra very promptly found the nearest train station bench, crashed down and took a nap.

What felt like only a few seconds later, a hoof nudged her in the ribs.

"Fivemoremems," she murmured sleepily. 

"If we wait five more minutes we'll miss our train! Come on, sleepyhooves, we've got to go!"

"Huh?" Lyra looked out at the platform and spotted a massive steam engine resting in the passenger docking area, boarding passengers as she slept. "When did that get there?"

"About fifteen minutes ago, now come on! You slept for a good two hours, now move it or lose it!" Bonbon growled, butting her head into Lyra's back and shoving her off the bench.

Trotting lazily over to the line of disgruntled creatures forced to wait in a dusty train station for hours, the mare handed over her boarding pass over. She snapped back to the waking world when a human hand took her pass, inspecting it with a discriminating eye and waving her on. Always a bright spot in her day, seeing a new human. But this one seemed disinterested in her, and she moved on into her seat in the passenger car. 

"Wow," Bonbon commented. "Look at how big everything is! And this seat, it's upholstered with felt!"

"You're right, this thing is huge!" The human train could have easily overshadowed any engine in the Equestrian fleet, and everything seemed so much taller to accommodate the taller frame of a human being. "It's like a snapshot of their era," Lyra mused aloud, her human theorist dark side reemerging. "I forget, did we pack the camera?! I have to get some pictures of this! Why haven't I been taking pictures already?! Where's the camera?"

Bonbon fished it out of their carry-on bag, tossing it lightly to Lyra. "Don't fill up on pictures of our train compartment."

Lyra ignored her wife, happily clicking away, the flash bulb capturing every nook and cranny of the human machine's plush passenger car.


*****************************************************


There it lay in the distance. The first town that any creature here had seen that had more humans than anything else. Gladstone, a temporary railroad encampment in the territory of the bison, an oasis of human life in the sprawling emptiness of the plains. Though it originally was meant to move northward while the workers laid fresh track to the still rich iron deposits in the north, Gladstone had been simply too convenient to move. It lay now at a crossroads between the Equestrian tracks, the tracks leading northward to the iron mines and the rail leading into the human heartland.

The bison, though still wary of the creatures they and their ancestors had known for millenia as the demonic and malevolent 'Hunters', almost refused to voice any negative opinion. The humans kept mostly to themselves, and they kept their distance. And they should, Gladstone was beginning to become a frontier town, complete with its own fully outfitted garrison of highly trained human soldiers. Only those bison who gave in to curiosity or needed some trade goods tread lightly into the town proper, trading their turquoise and raw materials for processed textiles.

And though they didn't even need to stop at the scratch up station here, the train put on her brakes, slowing to a stop.

And when Lyra looked out the window of her booth, she saw something that both fascinated and confused her. A full squadron of humans, outfitted in camouflage clothing and long, strange black objects that could only be weapons."What's going on?" she asked aloud.

"I don't know," Bonbon replied, a nervous feeling running through her as she stared at the heavily armed human warriors.

"Just stay in your seats," a voice said behind them. Both mares snapped to the aisle, the human ambassador stepping in. "We're going to be boarded here for a few minutes, so just hang tight. And most importantly, do absolutely everything they tell you to do," he said before leaving to inform the other passengers.

The door to the passenger car slid open, and Lyra poked her head out into the aisle. A human soldier bearing one of those wicked looking weapons walked slowly down the aisle, scanning each booth visually while keeping a finger on the trigger. His eyes were covered by a set of thick sunglasses, and his mouth covered by a rag. Waving to another soldier behind him, he entered. The second human wore some kind of pack on his back, with cables running to an odd looking device in his hand. 

As he swept it across the aisle and past the passengers, the device made a crackling, whining noise. Moving slowly through each booth, the pair of soldiers came to Lyra and Bonbon. "Please remain calm," the weapon bearing soldier intoned mechanically. 

The second one, the scanner, stepped in and began to sweep his device over the mares. And when it came to rest on Lyra, the machine's crackle and whine spiked. The soldiers glanced between each other, and the scanner reached to his side and brought out a smaller black device with two metal prongs on the end.

"Ma'am, please extend your arm," the scanner said to Lyra.

Unsure of what this device would do or why they wanted her to do that, she hesitated. A quick glance to her wife, and Bonbon's gaze seemed to say: Don't be afraid, just do what he says.

"Ma'am, please extend your arm, or we will have to use force," the soldier said again.

Tentatively, Lyra stuck out her hoof, shaking with grim anticipation. The scanner lowered the device to her foreleg, and with a press of a button, a small spark of electricity jumped from the prongs and came as a shooting pain all the way up her foreleg. She retracted her hoof in pain, rubbing the sore spot it left.

However, it seemed to satisfy the pair of soldier's mysterious needs, and without another word they moved on to another set of passengers.

"What was that?" Bonbon asked.

"I don't know, but it hurt like a motherbucker!" Lyra swore, rubbing her foreleg.

"Lyra! Language!" Bonbon hissed. "You never know when impressionable ears might be around." 

"Easy for you to say, you didn't have to get shocked! Celestia damn it, that was like getting caught by one of Derpy's stray thunderbolts!" The tingling finally began to recede, and though she had made it a bit more of an issue than it actually had been, she was more injured in her pride than anything else. "Why did I have to get shocked anyway?"

Their answer soon came, Dr Patterson poked his head back in to check on them. "Everything go smoothly?"

"No! They shocked me!" Lyra complained. "Last time I trust a piece of human technology."

"Trust me, it was for a good reason," he replied.

"What kind of reason could they have to go around waving probes in my face and then forcefully shocking my leg?!"

Dr Patterson remained calm as he said, "Changelings."

And with one word, Lyra felt the entire act to be justified. The haunting nightmare of being under that bitch Queen Chrysalis's mind control, having to survive lost in the caverns below Canterlot for three days while they did the wedding without her. Anything to make those insectoid monsters suffer even an iota was worth a little pain on her part. "But, how does that affect changelings? And why are your soldiers being so thorough?"

Aaron sat down next to Bonbon, rubbing a sore spot on his wrist, still red from a shock they gave him. "As you know, changelings take on the form of a pony or other creature to infiltrate their society and feed off of their emotions, particularly love. I got a report over the winter from my people, telling me to consult Princess Celestia on how to deal with them. Apparently, four or five changelings managed to slip into the Republic over a few months time, and they fed off of our people. They fed so much that they put three people into comas, and accidently forced a pregnant woman to miscarry. Needless to say, we went through a bit of a purge, finding every last one of the monsters and putting a few extra holes in them. But our scientists did some experiments, and we figured out a little combination that is extremely effective at sniffing out the little rat bastards. When they transform, they have a strong aura of magic to hold the illusion. That first device was called an omega detector. We use them to detect traces of energy in almost any amount. Detect too much, enough to suggest a changeling in disguise, and we move on to the second device. Just a simple personal defense device called a stun gun, and when applied to a changeling, the jolt is enough to jar them loose of any spell they might be maintaining. And if we find one, we kill it."

"And they picked me, because of my magic?"

"Not just you, every other magic user on the train. Thankfully we're clean, they would have made a mess if they found one of the damn things." And with that, he turned and left, settling in for the final leg of their journey back to his home.

Lyra leaned back in her seat, a shiver running down her spine at the mental image of sharing the train with one of those sickening bugs.

"You alright?" Bonbon asked.

"Yeah. I just...don't like-"

"Changelings, yeah, you've told me. But we don't have to worry about that. With all these human soldiers around and their fancy-schmancy doohickeys, there's no way a changeling could get past them. Heck, I bet those icky bugs are trembling in their hives right about now."

Lyra cracked a weak smile. "Yeah, maybe the humans have a flyswatter big enough to crush Chrysalis like a horsefly!"

"Ooh, one with jets and flywheels or whatever it is that humans use in their weird technology!" With the situation diffused by a few jokes, both mares relaxed and waited for the train to cross the border into the newest nation on planet Earth.


*********************************************************


Lyra pressed her face into the glass of the window, peering out with childlike fascination and intent. The plains hadn't slowly melted away, they just stopped. Literally stopped at a wall of trees and undergrowth. And something definitely felt different about the magic around here. It felt ancient, and like it was preserving this land for those who dwelt here in hibernation for so many centuries. Subtle, almost nonexistent, and its lack almost made Lyra uncomfortable.

And just like the halt of the plains, the forest thinned and was replaced with a familiar sight. Farms, with fields carved from the forests and valleys. Tender crops pushed up through the dirt, and more than a handful of humans farmers tended these fields with care. 

And finally, as the train rounded a bend, Lyra saw it.

....and was kind of disappointed.

The City of Man, the human settlement of Lazarus. What she expected was a metropolis that stretched both towards the horizon and the sky, with towering buildings that displayed not only elegance but power. What she saw looked just like a very large town. Not quite a city, Lazarus seemed to be divided into several districts, with the construction of the buildings varying by purpose. Some buildings evaded her mind in their function, but some were simply exaggerated things she was familiar with, like the titanic greenhouses that lay on the far end of the city.

Nearest to the approaching train were several buildings made of brick, with smokestacks that belched out thick smoke. Buildings that could only be factories, warehouses and train depots. And the train they rode approached one of these newly built depots, slowing to a stop.

A voice very mechanically chirped out from a PA system, "Folks, this is your conductor speaking. We have arrived at our destination a little earlier than expected. The time is four o' seven, welcome to the City of Lazarus. Please exit the locomotive in an orderly fashion, your luggage is being unloaded as we speak."

Despite the mild disappointment of the city itself, Lyra bounced like a filly. "We're here! We're actually here! What should we do first?! Maybe we could do a little exploring! Or, or maybe we could try some human cuisine!"

Bonbon grabbed her bag, slinging it onto her back. "Maybe we should find a place to stay first. Then maybe we can go sight seeing."

"Spoil sport," Lyra muttered, grabbing her stuff and joining the stream of creatures heading out into the station. And as she walked out onto the concrete station, a wave of scents slammed into her nose. The choke of acrid smoke, the heavy taste of metal in the air, and a hint of some rot, like a compost pile was nearby. It smelled of industry in full swing, and like a people pushing to their limits to fill some quota.

Over to the side, Dr Patterson appeared to be having trouble corralling his six excited charges. "Okay, alright! Rainbow, stop pushing Applejack! Now, did everyone get their bags?"

"Yes!" they answered in unison, the unicorns hefting their considerable baggage in their auras. 

"Alright, it's going to be a bit cramped in the ambassadorial quarters, so some of you might have to share beds for a few days. Does everyone have the address just in case you get lost?"

"Right here!" Twilight answered, pulling out a small scrap of paper. 

"Good, now let's stay together and try to get there without to much hassle." He stepped off to the side for a moment, dropping his bags to speak with a certain social worker. "So, Ann. I guess this is goodbye for now."

The stunning blonde smiled, reaching into her case and pulling out her clipboard. "Just remember, I live downstairs in government housing. Block D, apartment 82. Pick me up at five," she whispered, coming close and slipping her address into his pocket.

A big, goofy smile spread on his face when she turned and left, and he clutched the scrap of paper in his pocket like it was solid gold.

A certain tangerine farmpony sidled up to her human friend. "Now if she ain't the darn prettiest thang I've ever seen on two legs, call me a hog. Should Ah schedule the weddin' fer spring? When can Ah expect a bunch a' little human critters ta bounce on Auntie Applejack's knee?"

He choked on that those last two sentences, damning Applejack and her conservative views on dating. "Applejack! Bad pony! We haven't even gone on one date yet! Just for that, you're sleeping with Fluttershy!"

"Aw horseapples," she muttered, trotting off.

"Alright, I'm back home for a party that is completely political in nature, and I have to share my house with six of the craziest ponies in the world. Grin and bear it Aaron, grin and bear it. Big smiles all around," Aaron huffed to himself. "Eh, at least I have a date with a gal who should have been a Playboy Bunny."

Whilst he rambled to himself, the pink and blue maned candymaker meekly tugged on his sleeve. "Um, Mr Patterson, sir?"

"Oh! Mrs...Heartstrings, the other Mrs Heartstrings. How can I help you?"

"Well," Bonbon replied. "Lyra and I don't really know our way around, and we kind of need a place to stay. Do you know any good hotels, or maybe even an inn?"

"I'll ask," he replied. Spying a transit authority information booth, he walked over and knocked on the window. "Hey pal, where's the nearest hotel?"

The clerk behind the information desk opened up a ledger, scanning the listings of businesses in Lazarus. "Well, we have the Marlon Hotel, but word has it that it's booked full for the next week."

"Damn, anything else? Maybe an inn or even a spare apartment downstairs?"

Again the help desk clerk scanned his logbook. "Nope, booked solid for the gala. And the Undercity is off limits to unescorted creatures."

"Crap," he murmured. "Thank you for your time sir," he told the clerk. Turning back to Bonbon, he rubbed his neck and sighing. "All the hotels have already been booked for the next week, and there are no spare government apartments."

"Oh no!" Bonbon lamented. "What are we going to do?"

"What is it?" Lyra asked, appearing by her wife's side.

"All the hotels are booked, there aren't any places where we can stay!"

"Now now, hon, we'll find something," Lyra comforted, wrapping a hoof around Bonbon's neck.

Aaron felt a certain need to be altruistic today. "You can stay with me," he blurted out. Slapping a hand over his mouth, he wondered why in the hell he had said that. Then he remembered, :Oh yeah, mental link with a god. STAY THE FUCK OUT OF MY THOUGHTS!:

Don't be so mean about it. You needed to do something kind for once.

"Mr Patterson?" Bonbon asked. His eyes appeared to peer off into the distance, until he snapped out of whatever fugue he had entered. And the sour expression told the mares that he had just lost some kind of argument.

"Alright, you can stay with me for awhile. But don't cause any trouble! And you'll have to share a bed."

"That's not an issue for us, we're married," Lyra said with a smirk. 

"Right," he said with a grimace. "Here's the address, I'll go ahead and have your luggage delivered. Why don't you two take a tour and come to the house when it's over? Here, I'll even spot you some money." He stopped after handing them a hefty sack of bits, coming to a realization. "Stay out of my head, damn you!"

"Uh, right. Let's take a little tour, shall we Bonnie?" Dr Patterson grabbed their bags and walked away, practically arguing with the invisible presence that was playing with his conscious thoughts. Taking a look around the station, they spied something extremely convenient. A human man leaned against a wall, a cigarette plugged into his mouth and a small sign advertising guided tours of the city in his hands. He had sun-browned skin, and an odd little hat adorned the top of his head. "Nifty," Lyra commented. "Sir! Excuse me sir! Are you doing a tour?"

The man flicked the cigarette out of his mouth, his face sweeping into a smile as he spied two marks for his business. "Yes miss! Guided tours through the entire city, exclusive access to the most off limits areas of Lazarus! All your questions answered and sights seen for just twenty dollars!" he said excitedly in some strange accent.

"What are 'dollars'?"

"Or fifteen Equestrian bits, whichever comes first," the tour guide commented. 

Bonbon shilled out the thirty bits for their tour, but their guide didn't leave just yet, waiting for more creatures to join in to maximize his profits. Only when two minotaur merchants, three gryphons and a handful of other ponies paid did he start. 

"My name is Simcha, and I will be your guide today. Now, before we begin the our tour of the grandest city in the world, any questions?"

Lyra raised her hoof. 

"Yes, the young dame with the green fur."

She lowered her hoof. "What's with your voice?" she asked with real curiosity.

Bonbon squeaked, wanting to punch Lyra for bringing up such an odd and possibly sensitive question.

"Ah, my accent! To me, you are the one with the funny accent, but I am originally from Israel in the old world. I emigrated to New York City only two months before those bastard Syrians and Iranian dogs blew most of the Holy Land into radioactive dust! Any other questions?"

Lyra raised her hoof again, Bonbon resisting the urge to simply find a hole and crawl into it.

"Yes again."

"What does 'Lazarus' mean?"

"A good question! I'll explain on the way to our first destination." Simcha began to herd his group towards one of the large factory complexes near the train station. "Lazarus was a person in the New Testament of the Christian Bible. A friend of the Christian messiah, it was said in the book of Luke that Lazarus died of an illness only days before the messiah arrived in Lazarus's home town of Bethany. Lazarus's sisters begged Jesus of Nazareth to do something, and so Jesus came to Lazarus's tomb and he whispered to the dead man's ear, "Lazarus, come forth". And Lazarus rose from the dead, brought back by the word of Jesus. Or so they say. To the Republic, it is a name that means 'rebirth' and being given a second chance at life, and it was the original name for the scientific endeavor that allowed us to enter hibernation for two thousand years. Project Lazarus, the cryo-stasis endeavor that would allow us to survive any apocalypse short of the actual destruction of the planet!"

The group came to the entrance of one of the factories, and Simcha stopped them. "Here is our first destination, I must ask that you all stay on the catwalk and try not to get separated from the group!" He stepped inside the door, the group of ponies, gryphons and minotaurs following. "This is the main center of the Terran steel industry! A factory complex called the 'Slagworks' by the workers!" Lyra looked down from the catwalk at the inside of the factory. It was incredibly dark inside, and the only light seemed to come from the crucibles being heated to several thousand degrees to melt the raw iron ore within. Several human workers shoveled a carbonaceous black powder into an open crucible, another human in a silver heat suit approaching and taking a purity sample. 

Only when Lyra's eyes adjusted to the dark inside of the Slagworks did she see the hulking figures that worked down on the production floor. "What are those?" she asked their guide, pointing to a figure as it single-handedly lifted a heavy cart full of raw ore and dumped it into a crucible.

"That is a diamond dog. I think they call themselves the 'Stoneclaw' pack or something. Interesting story behind them, months ago an engineer by the name of Richard Mattson drove the Terran railways northward to secure a source of iron ore for our people. Unfortunately, the Stoneclaws already owned the iron mine, and so Mr Mattson did the only logical thing. He blew them to Kingdom Come! A few weeks later, the Stoneclaws showed up at the gates of Lazarus, starving and flea bitten, looking for Mr Mattson. By diamond dog logic, since he defeated the entire pack, they look up to him as their new alpha! Mr Mattson didn't want the additional responsibility, so he put them to work in the industrial district, and they've been happy doing work that they do naturally!"

It was a true story, the Stoneclaw pack had indeed been defeated by a few well placed sticks of dynamite. And like Simcha had said, the Stoneclaws wandered around for weeks before deciding that they needed a new leader, and since Rich had blown away all the upper echelons of the pack, he was the most logical choice. And since diamond dogs are nursed the ways of metalworking along with their mother's milk, it took very little effort to teach the Stoneclaws about the human metal industry.

Their tour guide continued to regale the group about the superior purity of Terran processed iron and the strength and quantity of their steel while parading them through the factory. And it occurred to Lyra, He's doing a sales pitch. That's why the Terrans had invited all the rich nobles, to build a customer base.

The group exited the factory and had to shield their eyes from the bright light of day. "Next stop on our tour of Lazarus is the market district!" 

Lyra spied another factory, one that didn't seem to spout any smoke, but let off a damp smell of fresh flesh and a tang of blood. "What's in that building?" she asked their guide.

Simcha winced. "Um, I don't take tours through that building for a reason. But I may be able to supply our gryphon and minotaur friends with a free sample!" Knowing that smell by heart, the gryphons licked their beaks at the prospect of a free meal after the tour. The gorge rose in Lyra's throat as they passed by Lazarus's slaughterhouse.

The market stood in stark contrast of the industrial district, even though it was just a stone's throw from the entrance to the Slagworks. Several newly built buildings, built in architectural styles that rang of Trottingham, Canterlot, Hoofington and even Ponyville and Appaloosa all lined the streets of the market district. And unlike the industrial district which seemed slightly polluted and even dead in some places, the market was a place that lived and breathed. Hawkers called out the superiority or low price of their goods. People of several species dealt in wares both familiar and alien to Lyra. Flocks of chickens, geese, ducks and turkeys were shepherded around the market and off to various buyers or even to the slaughterhouse in the industrial district. 

So much sound, so much color and new scents. It reminded Lyra of the market days in Canterlot, when all the merchant ponies of Equestria gathered for the heart of trade and economics. And, she thought with a little smile, the market of Lazarus reminded her more of home than most places in Ponyville.

"On our right we have a point of interest!" Simcha pointed out a rather plain looking building to the tour group, with a profile picture of one of the ugliest human beings Lyra had ever seen swinging on a post above the door. "Abraham's Pub, Lazarus's premiere alcohol serving institution. Abraham's was originally going to be a nameless, government run officer's club for the military. When the builders broke ground for the foundation, one of the workers found a strongbox containing several hundred dollars in ancient American money. An entrepreneur decided to buy up the lot and named it Abraham's, after one of the greatest presidents of the old United States of America, and one whose face happened to be on most of the money in that strongbox! Abraham's is one of three bars in Lazarus, but it serves only the best quality drinks."

Lyra glanced into one of the windows of Abraham's Pub, and took notice that most of the inhabitants were humans. No, not mostly, humans were the only patrons of the bar. "Must be the time of day," she mused. The march through the market was short, with Bonbon excitedly whispering to Lyra about the absolutely criminal low price they were selling some spices at one stand, and how she vowed to come back and get some if they had any free time and money.

"Our next destination is the central hub of Lazarus, Fort Greenewell, the bastion of military might for all of Terra!" Unlike the other two districts they had passed through, the entrance to Fort Greenewell was heavily guarded by human soldiers with some extremely heavy ordinance. Simcha stopped at the entrance. "Greetings, fellow Terrans!" he practically shouted to the stoic pair of soldiers in their urban camouflage. "These creatures are under my escort, and we would like to enter Greenewell."

"Identification?" one of them said.

"Oh, of course!" Simcha patted around his pockets, fishing out a small plastic card and presenting it. The soldier pulled out a device, swiping the ID card through a slot. After a second it gave a beep, and the soldier handed the card back. 

"Stay within the tour parameters, and don't cause any trouble."

"Of course, sir," the guide responded, giving the odd salute of the Israeli Army.

Leading them through the checkpoint, the entire group passed through a pair of odd pillars topped by spheres with coiled wires running down the entire device. And when she passed through, Lyra felt a fuzzy feeling overcome her mind, dulling and dampening her magic. Passing the strange energy field groggily, she shook off the feeling of having cotton stuffed into her head.

"What was that?" she asked to nopony.

"A Tesla device!" their guide exclaimed. "During the War, scientists from this very base ran into the problem of blocking and containing magical attacks. The Tesla Tower was the perfect answer to the problem, and human forces once again gained the upper hand in combat! Well, at least the forces from Fort Greenewell, the armies were scattered and fractured into near uselessness. That barrier is there to make sure none of us are harboring any magically bound weapons, or to make sure that none of us are nasty changelings in disguise!"

Once again justified by mentioning changelings, if anypony ever figured that part of her out, they could justify anything.

Beyond the outer fences of Fort Greenewell, life within the compound once known as Stronghold took on a different notion than either the industrial or market districts. Whereas the factories were serious and dead feeling, and the markets were carefree and lively, the center of the city was a mixture of both, yet unique. Soldiers ran in formation, repeating the lyrics to a song chanted by a sergeant leading their column. 

A flag snapped in the breeze on a flagpole, the image of a phoenix with its wings spread on a field of deep blue. The firebird clutched a star in a talon, the other talon carrying a lightning bolt and a broken arrow. Lyra glanced at soldier as he walked by, and sure enough, the same symbol of the phoenix was stitched onto the shoulder of his fatigues.

More of those hideous looking black flying monstrosities sat idle on a large field meant solely for aircraft. Metal beasts the size of Ursa Minors, painted in desert and forest camouflages sat inside of machine shops or in rows outside. Both Lyra and Bonbon had only ever seen anything comparable to this once, when they attended Bonbon's brother's advancement ceremony for being promoted into the Royal Guard.

"This is Fort Greenewell. Thousands of years ago this military base was placed discreetly at this location as a top secret research facility by the American government. The Army maintained a very strong presence here, as well as a Marine Corp company and sizable flight of Air Force vehicles. Greenewell was one of the most secure bases in the world in the days of the old United States. And even today she seems to emanate a sense of power, even in these times of weakness. Our next destination is that building over there!" The tour guide pointed to a small out building near the center of the base.

Stepping inside of the moderate little building, it appeared to remain empty except for one soldier standing next to a control panel and lever. "Undercity please," Simcha said to the soldier.

The grunt private gave a smirk. "Watch your hands and hooves and please stay towards the center of the lift." He punched a code into the panel and gave the lever a yank. The floor beneath Lyra's hooves lurched, and the ceiling began to rise up and away. Or rather, the floor seemed to be falling into the earth, carrying the tour group with it. 

"This lift is one of many spread throughout the entire city of Lazarus," Simcha shouted over the deafening din of machinery as it moved the lift downwards. "They act as cargo lifts and elevators down to the portion of the city known as the Undercity. The Undercity is itself almost an entire city, built two hundred feet underground! The tunnels and vaults stretch under every district of Lazarus, and are completely impervious to anything short of a direct orbital strike." The lift shuddered to a halt, the soldier manning his post lifting up a gate and allowing the passengers to pass onwards.

And even the stoic, silent minotaurs let out gasps of incredulousity at the main area of the Undercity. A high ceiling stretched up several stories, carved and polished smooth from the natural bedrock under Lazarus. A pony soldier could have shot an arrow down the length of the great chamber, and it would have fallen short at only around halfway down. 

And everywhere, literally every catwalk lining the multiple stories, every stretching hallway, every glass paned office and even the floor of the great chamber was covered in humans. Thousands of them simply milled about. A few dozen shipped crates from a lift to one of the large vault chambers lining the side of the main chamber, dozens of soldiers patrolled the area, omega detectors at the ready and scanning each chamber periodically for the dreaded enemy. Bureaucrats ran messages from building to building, running messages and memos to other branches of the Terran government.

"The Undercity is the seat of all Terran power. This is where our government is based, where our technological wonders are stored, and where all of several thousand years of knowledge and culture are stored and being replicated. Over there is the Lazarus Library, home to a good portion of human literary and scholarly achievement. It is being cleaned today, so no tours there. So, we're going to take a little trip to the research departments and the Lazarus hospital!"

Simcha led the group into a side hallway, under a sign with a large red cross over the doorway. "Welcome to Lazarus General Hospital, the most advanced medical facility on the planet." A nurse appeared around a corner, reading a chart when she bumped into the mixed group. Looking up, she shrieked at the sight of a party of ponies, gryphons and minotaurs, then calmed herself. 

"Sir, the hospital is off limits to visitors! Move along before I call in security!" she said acidly to the tour guide.

Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, Simcha pulled her off to the side. "Look Miss..."

"Doctor Roberts!" she said.

"Dr Roberts, this is government commissioned, I've been approved to guide these tours by President McGoff himself! It's all a part of the plan."

Dr Roberts rolled her eyes. "You political brown nosers and your damn plan. Fine, since McGoff himself gave you the green light, I guess you can see the maternity ward. But stay the hell away from O.R. and Emergency Treatment. If I so much as catch hair or hide of one of these creatures in there, it's your head on a pike!"

"Thank you for your cooperation," he whispered, letting her go and getting back to the group. "She digs me," he declared to his tour group. Several of the males of the group laughed.

"Pig!" Dr Roberts shouted over her shoulder.

"Oh! The nerve of that woman!" Simcha declared. "Calling me as foul as swine! Eugh!" After shaking off the insult to his person, the tour guide took them down a hallway. And it was in this hallway that Lyra's life would change even more than it already had. Simcha stopped them in front of a large window into a sterile room. Inside were carts containing at least twenty squirming infant human beings, bedecked in either a red or a blue blanket.

"This is the maternity ward for all Lazarus," Simcha whispered. "Within that room rests the next generation of the human race, each and every little soul more precious to our race than any pile of gold or gems."

Lyra and Bonbon looked inside the window, and both were absolutely speechless. "Oh my Celestia," Lyra whispered. They were so adorable, so small, so.....so.....innocent. And within her heart, that warm feeling of love blossomed and spread throughout her body.

"Really brightens up my day, coming here and looking in this window," a woman's voice said behind her. Lyra glanced over her shoulder and was greeted by an older human woman. Her graying blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she wore a smile that could conquer nations. She extended a hand to Lyra. "Dr Evelyn Mcentyre, Lazarus research and development."

Lyra took the woman's hand and shook gently. "Um, Lyra Heartstrings, musician."

"Oh, you must be here for the gala in two days. You picked a good time to come downstairs, five of these little tykes were born just today and yesterday. Jacob over there is only four hours old." She pointed a long finger over at a baby swaddled in blue, resting in his incubator. "I used to have a baby boy of my own, but..." She stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. "He's with God now. And coming here gives me that feeling that I had when I first held Brandon in my arms."

"I'm so sorry," Lyra said. "My partner and I," she gently lay a hoof on Bonbon's hoof. "We've been trying so hard to have one of our own. But I know that it can't compare to losing your own child."

Dr Mcentyre chuckled. "He lived a happy life, and I know he's happy where he is now." Eve glanced around, watching the tour group continue down the hallway without Lyra and Bonbon. "So, you gals want to go in and see 'em?"

"Really?"

Eve nodded and grinned like a child up to no good. "Yeah. You girls look trustworthy, and those children need whatever love and attention they can get."

"Are you sure we won't get caught?"

"What are they gonna do to us, huh? I hold so much clout around here I get salutes from General Pilotte, not to mention blushes from President McGoff. And to think I could be a few smooches away from being First Lady of the Republic. So whaddya say, all we need to do is put on some medical gowns and just walk on in."

Lyra smiled broadly. "I'm game!"

Bonbon however was not so enthusiastic. "Lyra, we need to stay with the tour group! He'll notice we're gone and then those guards will get involved! Even if we don't get caught, we'll still be lost in a foreign city!"

Eve leaned back against the wall and folded her arms patiently. "Simcha takes the same route with every merchant and minor noble that comes through the city. Right about now he's taking the group across the Undercity and to the bureaucratic offices. And even if the guards do get involved, I'll tell them to piss off. And if Simcha gets angry...well there's not much I can do about that, that son of a bitch knows Krav Maga."

Bonbon bit her lip, unsure of whether to do this or not. Who knows, it might even be illegal! While Lyra may have had a misdemeanor or two on her record, Bonbon was completely clean. And committing a crime in a foreign city was not the way to start a vacation. With a sigh of resignation, she crumbled. "Alright, I'll go in."

"Splendid, this way please." Dr Mcentyre led them down a small hallway, opening a door and tossing them a pair of medical gowns and hair nets. "Put 'em on, we don't want to expose them too much." With some difficulty, the mares pulled the medical gowns onto their forlegs, draping the rest over their backs. "And to heaven we arrive," the human woman said, opening the door to the maternity ward. 

They entered quietly, walking on the tips of their hooves so as not to wake the sleeping young of the human race. Lyra peeked over the edges of each little cradle, marveling at each baby. They all looked so helpless and lovable, and Lyra resisted the urge to just scoop one out and cuddle with it. "They're so precious," Lyra whispered.

She passed from one cradle to another, this one containing a baby girl by her red swaddling. And on that little girl's head lay a silver mark, just like Sophia Coppell. "She's a magic user," Lyra said in mild surprise. 

Eve leaned down to whisper to Lyra. "Yeah, it's so odd, they've been coming more frequent recently. All these little mage babies have a lower birth weight than normal human babies, and they only start using their magic at around two months of age."

"What kind of baby?"

"Mage. It's an old word we humans used to use when describing a fictitious person that could use magic, but wasn't strong like a wizard or something. My boy Aaron Patterson was the first mage human, and shortly after that Sophia Coppell became the second." She looked around the room, her gaze falling on several more magically potent infants. "And now we're up to about thirty, with about one hundred and fifty new children total." 

Eve walked over to another cradle and looked down at its inhabitant with slight pity. "Then there's this poor little girl."

"What's wrong with her?" Bonbon asked, peering into the cradle at the brown haired infant. She looked a little older than the others, and more developed. The silver swirl on her head confirmed her as a mage, but from her inspection there was absolutely nothing wrong.

"There's nothing wrong with her personally, she's an orphan. Her mom died in childbirth, and her dad was unfortunate enough to be one of the soldiers on duty when they found the Ursa den in our northern frontier. Poor little dear doesn't have parents." 

"That poor child!" Lyra leaned into the crib, gently nuzzling the infant child in her rest. And something happened, a little flow of magic sprang from the infant, seeking a companion flow to comfort her. Lyra felt she had to, and she summoned a little tendril of her own magic, touching the baby's mind and soothing her with a memory of a lullaby. "You poor little thing, you just need a mommy," she crooned.

"And the absolute worst part, nobody is willing to adopt her." Eve took a risk, gently stroking the sleeping infant's head with her thumb. 

Lyra felt two emotions that threatened to boil over. Compassion for the lonely and orphaned human child, and rage that humanity would cast aside such a sweet and innocent child. "Why will nobody adopt her?"

Eve sighed, turning to leave and motioning for the ponies to follow. "Because she is a mage. Magic is still new to us, so new that it frightens people that don't have much experience with it. People are afraid of a sweet little baby, all because she can make pretty lights."


**********************************************


Both Lyra and Bonbon quickly caught up with the group, and just in time to return to skip over the boring parts of the bureaucracy. Simcha seemed to take no notice of their absence, prattling on about their next destination, a place known by some as the Hall of Steel.

Leading them through a massive entryway, large enough to drive a pair of tanks through, they came to another titanic room. "This is the Hall of Steel! The mechanical megaplex! The abode of all things alloy! The-"

"Get on with it!" one of the minotaurs growled.

"Right then! The Hall of Steel is the main center in Lazarus for our locomotive and military might. This is where all of our tanks, transport vehicles, helicopters, and even our steam engines were stored and where they come to be serviced and maintained. There's even a few auto shops down here that are retrofitting some military machines to work with magic."

Though the ponies maintained indifference, the three gryphon nobles were absolutely fascinated. "What is your method of forward propulsion? How do you manage to extract so much power into such a small engine?!" Their eyes could have popped out of their heads, and one even took wing to take a look at an engine on a rack. 

"Please rejoin the group sir!" Simcha barked. The gryphon growled, then rejoined his companions. Their guide turned and led them out of the gigantic machine shop, promising that more interesting things were on the final leg of the tour.

Taking another lift back to the surface, the group came out of a building in another district on the far side of Fort Greenewell. "This is the residential district of Lazarus, there are not many sights to see here other than the various churches built to accommodate the various religions, including the Jewish Temple that I attend every Saturday. And if you follow me please, I will show you the best part of this city!"

Simcha led them through the rows of homes, homes built by ponies to accommodate humans. Many were styled like houses from Ponyville, little town cottages with thatched roofs and painted in all warm colors, but everything was taller. Finally, after a brisk fifteen minute walk and a few "shortcuts", they reached the edge of the residential district.

"And this, my friends, is the park. The true center of human art and culture." A thin forest stretched out in front of the group, with sunlit pathways bordered by flowered meadows. Their guide led them along the path, naming what he knew of the uses of the park. "Each Friday night you can get tickets to a Shakespearean play in the park, it's quite a treat, trust me! They aren't true professionals, but the spirit of the show is still the same. And over in those fields, we can vent a little steam by playing some futbol or some American football. They tried to recruit me for their soccer team, but I am busy most days they practice. Over here, Allan Sedgway spends his days carving statues from solid marble blocks, donating each one to the people of this city to decorate the park. Here are his two most famous works right now!"

They passed within very close range of a marble statue depicting a human woman bereft of clothing. The model didn't shield her nudity, she seemed to embrace it. The detail was so fine, Lyra expected her hair to flow in the breeze or for her to blink at any moment.  The statue's hand reached across the path to another statue, one that stood as the ultimate contrast. A solitary human soldier, his gun hanging by his side and his fatigues bearing the marks of war. His hand clutched a shred of a flag, and though his face was carved from stone, Lyra could see the marks of tears as they came down his war scarred face.

Two sides of the coin of humanity. On one hand, the beauty of the human being in her most natural form, and across from her was her sorrowed partner, wed to her by circumstance, her groom of pain and regret. A duality of peace and war, the purest beauty and the ultimate ugliness. And it seemed that the woman reached to comfort the soldier in his torment.

"And over here, in the center of the park, is Lazarus's greatest mystery: the gazebo."

"What's so mysterious about a gazebo?" Lyra asked.

"Who built it, for one." The group stepped into a clearing that formed a perfect ring around a gazebo. The wood was not painted, yet it was an alabaster white, and each beam seamlessly flowed into the others. Tendrils of ivy and rosebushes grew around its base, intertwining with the supports and blossoming on the roof of the gazebo.  "There isn't a nail or screw anywhere on it. It is as if it was...grown. Like someone took the decades to slowly bend each branch to conform and become one with each other. And some people say that if you come here at night, you feel a comforting presence that banishes all of your fears and worries. There's no record or evidence of anyone ever coming here to build it, in fact...we found it this way. Like it was left here for us. Some even say that angels left it here as a sign from God. A sign that we need not be afraid anymore."

The tour guide nodded in respect to the little shrine that some said was consecrated by a higher power. "Well, would you look at the time. That's the end of our tour, and once again the people of Lazarus welcome you with open arms to our city." Simcha directed the various creatures in the group towards their hotels and with the address from Aaron he directed Lyra and Bonbon to the ambassador's home in the above ground residential district.


****************************************************


The sun had fallen, and it was late before the mares managed to find the right house. It was rather sizable, even for a human residence. But it still had the charm and architecture of a Ponyville cottage home. 

Lyra was exhausted, and she stumbled up the step and tapped her hoof on the door. "Think this is the right one?" she asked almost drunkenly.

"Oh Celestia I hope so, those people at the last house were pissed when we just walked in on their dinner."

Lyra knocked again, louder this time. The thumping and crashing noises coming from inside told them someone was home, but had probably been asleep. The door swung open, Dr Patterson standing in nothing but his boxer shorts. "What are you doing at my front door at ten o'clock at night?" he said sleepily. 

"Uh, you invited us to stay with you?" Bonbon said.

"I did? Huh, that explains the extra luggage. Okay, come in." They both trotted inside, only to be regaled by the most stunning collection of artifacts they had ever seen. Shelf after shelf of rare gifts from lords of far away nations, entire bookcases with replicas of human literature of every genre. Curios ranging from dragon claws to a Saddle Arabian scimitar and even a Gorgon eye encased in crystal all made a macabre yet fascinating display.

"Wow, where did you get all this stuff!?" Lyra exclaimed. 

"I'm an ambassador, other ambassadors and dignitaries give me shit to hopefully get in good with me and my people. So I ship it all back here to be dumped with the rest of the stuff. Plus I buy a lot of stuff, anything that piques my curiosity. I get paid quite the salary as ambassador to Equestria."

"So I see," Bonbon said. 

Mr Patterson flopped down on the couch in his living room. "There's some leftovers in the kitchen if you're hungry, and the first door on the right upstairs is your room. Well, it's actually my room, but the girls are taking up every other bed in the house." Waving a hand coated in magic, he lay down, summoned a blanket and flipped off the light switch.

Both mares wearily walked up the stairs, taking the first door on the right into the master bedroom. A large bed with a plush comforter practically invited them to simply leap in. Slipping under the covers, Lyra slid up to Bonbon, cupping her form wihin her own. With a sigh she closed her eyes, wrapping a foreleg around her wife's barrel.

But she couldn't sleep yet. Not until she said something first. 

"Bonbon?"

"Yeah Lyra?"

"I think I've made my decision."


**************************************************************


Congratulations readers, you've just managed to slog your way through KLONDIKE'S LONGEST CHAPTER YET!!!! I don't know if you guys like it or not, and at this point I don't care. I was possessed by the devil and wrote for nearly six hours straight. My brain hurts, not my head, MY BRAIN!
> Bonus Chapter: Mr Patterson Talks About Magic
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Another day, another lackluster hour of talk radio. 

Ed Burns kicked back in his studio chair, switching off his headset and wishing he had time for a cigarette. Unfortunately, no companies had come forward with offers of funding and none would pay for commercial time. Whatever companies there were, at least. Though nearly every house in Lazarus had a radio, nobody cared enough to pay for a commercial spot. That, and no companies were wealthy enough to afford a commercial segment.

On the other side of the studio desk, Lisa Eddin finished with the weather report, too quickly as usual. "And our pegasus friends report that today will be mostly sunny with scattered cloud cover later in the afternoon. High around 89 today with a low of 68 tonight. And now for a little song request from one of our boys in uniform. This is Du Hast by Rammstein." Lisa pressed the play button, blasting the Neue Deutsche Härte out on the radio waves and into every home in the city. Most people wouldn't like it, but if they didn't like it maybe they should freaking make a request! But the absence of telephones made it kind of difficult to make a song request.

Lisa switched off her headset, dropping it on the table. "Well, that was a disaster."

"Yeah, typically 'no news is good news', but we need something damn it! We've replayed the interview with Senator Brownstone three times this week! There's only two sports teams, and nobody is interested in how the basketball team and the soccer team are practicing! We need something good, something that will boost our fan base and maybe even draw some investors."

Lisa busied herself by tying back her auburn hair and applying some more of her ruby lipstick. "We could do another farm report. See how the turnips are coming in vs the corn speculations for this fall."

Ed sighed, running a hand through his short black hair. "That crap is so boring not even the farmers will listen to it. I thought we were trying not to become an NPR knockoff."

"How couldn't we? We're LPR, Lazarus Public Radio, 101.3 FM!" she said in her falsely excited radio voice.

Oh how they had been so excited the day that the government had dragged out a small radio tower out of one of the auxiliary storage vaults in the Undercity, intending to sell it at auction. Instead, Ed and his best friend and roommate Lisa had offered to buy the old tower and the radio jockey supplies. After a week of attempting to set it up and finally just hiring some professional electrician to do it for them, they brought radio back to mankind. 

That is, if anyone really had the time to listen. LPR was considered by most to be a complete dud. The signal strength was often sketchy depending on the weather, or if their solar panel crapped out or not. And then there was the actual content. Public polls had shown that 'Ed and Lisa in the the Afternoon' was generally crap, just the two hosts sitting there talking about the day before, which had been nothing but working the radio station. The two of them never could agree on what genre of music to play, so the in the morning when Lisa was behind the desk, they typically played techno, dubstep and rock. But with Ed at the helm, more country, jazz and some pop would filter through.

"Hey Lisa, song's over."

She didn't respond, instead turning on something a little softer and more crowd pleasing than Rammstein. Holding up a makeup mirror, she applied a little eyeliner. 

"Who're you getting dolled up for? Got a date tonight or something?"

"Nope, got an interview today."

"Quitting radio already? What, three months of bombing and you're ready to throw in the towel?"

She snapped her mirror shut, tucking it into her purse. "Let me clarify, I got us an interview today."

Ed leaned forward in his chair, curious. "Who the hell could you con into being on our show?"

Lisa flashed a mischievous smile. "A celebrity of sorts. I caught him shopping in the market yesterday, we chatted a little, I told him about our radio show, and then I asked him if he wanted to make an appearance. And fortunately for us, he said yes."

"What celebrity? We already did Mr Sedgway on his art, Rich Mattson turned us down, and none of the politicians have any time!"

Lisa smirked. "He'll be here for the lunch hour. I've already given out fliers advertising it all around the market and the Undercity. Just read the questions I prepared, and try to avoid mentioning grimmer stuff. Trust me, it'll be a hit!"

Ed noticed the small pile of notecards on his side of the divider for the first time, and with some curiosity he began to flip through. "What kind of spells can you perform? Lisa, what the hell kind of a question is that? Are we interviewing a unicorn or something? I don't know any famous unicorns in Lazarus, they'll all be here tomorrow for the big bash."

"Oh, he's human alright. And kind of a VIP."

Ed set the cards down, his eyes growing wide. "You can't possibly mean-"

"I can and I do! I got us an exclusive radio interview with Aaron Patterson!"

Ed had to control his urge to leap over the divider and kiss Lisa on the lips. "Lis, gal, you may have just saved our radio show! I could kiss ya! I take back what I said last night!"

Lisa folded her arms and raised a well plucked eyebrow. "The little comment about the only option we had left was me turning tricks in the alleyway behind the Slagworks if the show tanked? All is forgiven, Ed. But remember, I get to ask some of the questions too!"

"Done! Put on some easy listening, I've gotta go iron my shirt!"

The disk jockey leapt out of his seat, bolting out the door from the studio and into his living room on the other side. So what he did radio out of the guest bedroom of his house? It saved money on buying and building a radio station.


**************************************************


Ed drummed his fingers on the studio desk, stealing glances at the clock ticking slowly in the corner. He could vaguely hear some Aerosmith song playing out on the radio, but the playlist would cut out at noon for the lunch hour talk show. Normally they tried to have a theme for each hour of talk. Last week it was the Arts in the Park, and the week before it was the recent tariff on iron ore imports. But today was the dawn of a new era for LPR's talk show hosts! Today, they went where few radio personalities had ever dared to tread, the misty realms of the supernatural!

Even from the mostly soundproofed studio, Ed could hear the soft and subtle knock on the front door. His eyes flicked back to the clock, noon already? Very quickly he poured a cup of coffee and tried to assume his best Howard Stern-esque relaxed pose in his chair. Just so he might actually look like he knew what he was doing in front of the man who had single-handedly prevented a war and stopped a genocide.

Taking a quick, fortifying swig out of a small bottle of whiskey that he kept under his half of the desk, he switched the mic back to 'on'. 

"And that was Aerosmith playing the title track to their 1975 album, Toys in the Attic. This is Ed Burns here with your daily dose of the Lunch Hour, where Lazarus's two favorite disk jockeys sit down and talk about all the most important subjects. My co-conspirator tells me we have a very special guest here today, and he ties in very well with today's subject. 'And what that might be?' you ask yourselves. My good listeners, it would be a subject that nobody took really serious except for what it meant on their Dungeons and Dragons character sheet or in the Harry Potter books. That's right, you'll hear it here first as we delve into the untapped subject of the arcane. You heard right folks, magic."

Lisa opened the door with their guest host, and Ed was stunned to see just some kid in a tee shirt, fairly worn jeans and some Nike sneakers that needed to be put out of their misery. Well, what else could he expect? Some old, bearded fellow with flowing robes and a pointed hat, waving a wand around like it was nobody's business? That, or some kind of wacko messiah's robe. 

Lisa passed an extra headset to Mr Patterson, switching it on before doing her own. 

"With me here today is Dr Aaron Patterson, Ambassador to the Realm of Equestria. Mr Patterson, sir. I'm Ed Burns, you already know Ms Eddin, and we'd both like to welcome you to our little studio."

"Thank you for having me today," Mr Patterson said quaintly. 

"Sir, may I simply say that it is an absolute honor to have you here on our show, and we apologize if we may have interrupted any preparations you were making for tomorrow night. As Lisa may have told you, our subject today is magic, something that nobody ever used to talk about except for fantasy roleplaying. And our first question for you is: How exactly do you use magic?"

Aaron took a sip of coffee from an offered cup. "That's actually a very good question to start with, Mr Burns."

"Please, call me Ed."

"Alright Ed, anyways, there is no real 'trigger' to making your magic work. Most of the time you just visualize what kind of action you want completed, and depending on several factors it will happen."

"What kind of factors could there be, Mr Patterson?"

Aaron reached into a pocket, pulling out a small notebook. "Sorry, just gonna have to dig into my notes here. My teacher makes me take very thorough notes, she even grades me on them." He flipped to a certain page, finding what he needed. "Should have brought Twilight today, she's the real expert. But there was this lecture that she wanted to hear on astrophysics at that impromptu university. Let me just start my own little lecture here; there are four parts to any spell. First, the knowledge of the spell. You have to know the right way to weave it, the right way to command it and control it. Second, the visualization, you have to be able to see what you want accomplished. And with a little practice it just becomes second nature. Third is summoning your willpower, having a strong will is absolutely key to performing any spell more complex than simple levitation. And after that is just executing your spell. Of course, the amount of magical power that your body and soul can wield greatly affect your range of spells."

Lisa leaned over the divider, completely fascinated by this little lecture in magic. Her early days of black metal as a teen had often incorporated odd little rites and weird chants. "Would you be willing to demonstrate for us?"

"You'd like me to demonstrate? I guess, don't really see why not. Okay, I think I have a good one for you here."

He held his hands cupped over one another, his face becoming firm with concentration. A reddish light began to glow between his fingers, and with a grin he held out a ball of fire the size of an orange before his hosts. "This is your standard fireball. It's taught to most unicorns as a self defense spell, but I tell you now that it has almost no practical use in combat. It's really just a ball of super heated air being held stable. I've only ever used one once, on a timber wolf as it tried to nosh on my leg. Startled it long enough for me to get away."

Lisa and Ed were speechless. Here this legend of a man sat bouncing a fireball on his fingertips. "You want to hold it?" Aaron asked nonchalantly. 

Lisa's eyes went wide with wonder and glee. "Can we? I mean, can someone not like you, do that?"

"If your will is strong enough. Here, I'll just pass it over slowly. Hold your hands out Lisa, and use your will to command this fireball to be yours." He extended his hands, gently cupping the flaming ball of air and holding it out to the hostess.

She'd always had this little belief in some kind of power of the universe, and now it glowed mere inches from her fingers. Lisa felt like she knew what to do, but she still spent what felt like minutes mentally preparing herself. "Okay, be mine, be mine. You won't burn me," Lisa whispered to herself. Holding her hands cupped underneath his, Lisa braced herself as he slowly released the dangerous spell into her grasp. She winced when he withdrew his hands, and she closed her eyes, expecting to be scorched, her slender hands turned into barbecue. She cracked an eye open, looking warily. A pleasant warmth rested just a few inches above her hands, held there by her will alone. 

"I...I...listeners, I wish you could see this. I am actually controlling a fireball! Are you doing this in any way Mr Patterson?"

"Nope, she's all yours right now, I'm not doing a thing," he said with a proud grin, leaning back in his chair. "Just be careful not to-"

Lisa aimed her fireball towards the clock on the wall, and after that, the room became chaos. She didn't know how, she didn't even know why, but she let go of the combat spell, firing it across the room. The fireball ricocheted off the face of the clock and began to bounce off of other objects in the room. Ed hit the deck, jumping under the desk and covering himself. Lisa shrieked as it whizzed by her head, singing a few of her auburn hairs. 

And as it sped towards his face, Aaron caught the ball of fire like a baseball. "-point it at anything. I forgot to warn you, fireballs that don't have a target can get....bouncy." Clenching his fist, he reabsorbed the magic spell. 

Ed peeked out from under his desk, checking for danger. "Well faithful listeners, that was the most excitement we've had in the studio since we found a cockroach in Lisa's coffee. If you're just tuning in, Lisa nearly destroyed the studio with a fireball, fancy that. Is it safe to ask another question, or will that somehow end in our destruction?"

"Uh, no more combat spells for today," Aaron reassured.

"Thank Jesus for that," Ed murmured under his breath. Picking up his stack of notecards again, he pinched out a singed corner that was still smoldering. "Now, we've noticed with some of our unicorn citizens that they practice different kinds of magic based on what their special talent is. Some of them rarely even practice magic at all, which brings us to the question of: What types of magic exist, and how do they differ from person to person?"

Aaron leaned onto the desk, thinking for a moment. "Mr Burns, did you ever take a physics class in high school or college?"

"Yes I did."

"And in that physics class, did they tell you how many forms of energy exist in the universe?"

Ed chuckled a little bit, remembering how he slept through most of his high school physics classes. "I am sure they did, but I don't quite remember."

"Science used to believe that there were only four types of energy holding the universe together; electromagnetism, gravity, strong radiation and weak radiation. But, we were off the count by one. Magic itself is a universal form of energy that draws characteristics from all the other types of energy. And, magic has the unique aspect of being able to alter the other four energies as well as matter. And just like the 'normal' energies, magic has its own spectrum."

He held up his left hand, glowing with his magic. However, the magic divided from his hand, forming into a hovering sphere of light. "At one end of the spectrum we have harmonious magic. Magic that tends to encourage things to come together, to reduce entropy and coalesce matter and energy into new forms. This is the type of magic that we use to heal wounds, encourage growth, reduce pain and bring about order. Harmonious magic is very powerful, but it has limited uses. And on the other hand-"

His right hand glowed with magic, separating off and forming into an oily black sphere. "-we have chaos magic. This is what encourages entropy and dispersal. Chaos magic exists simply to tear things apart, to return the universe to a state of utter simplicity by destroying anything complex. Most of that fireball was constructed of a lighter form of chaos magic. Illusion, deception, pain, decay, fear, they are all the calling cards of the purest chaos magic. Not to mention, both magics become highly contagious at the ends of the spectrum. Even harmonious magic becomes opportunistic and parasitic when presented with a good host."

He pushed the two opposing spheres of magic together. Ed and Lisa braced themselves, expecting a violent reaction from both. Instead, they swirled together, forming an aura of Dr Patterson's forest green magic. "But when combined, they form something completely new, the middle of the spectrum. The natural magics, completely neutral in their use. These are the most common form of magic in the universe with nearly infinite uses and types. There's the elemental magics, runic magic, ritual magic, shamanistic magic, blood magic, spirit magic, song magic, alchemical magic, active magic, latent magic, soul magic, heart magic, emotional magic, the list goes on and on!"

"And how does something like unicorn magic differ from something like cloudwalking, something that pegasus ponies do without thinking?" Lisa inquired without consulting a card.

"Ah yes, I have that here in my notes. Cloudwalking and by that proxy weather control are a mixture of blood and latent magic. Blood because it is an inherited trait that is passed from pegasus parent to pegasus foal, and latent because there is no conscious thought attributed to the phenomenon. I speculate that there might be some elemental in there, but neither of my pegasus friends are willing to consent to an examination. Unicorn magic however is a hodgepodge of most of the active forms of magic combined with blood magic, as it is passed from unicorn parent to unicorn foal, with the arcane strength of the foal depending on the strength of the parents. And the different mixtures of the different prevalent magics result in the specialization of most unicorn's magic, and I speculate the same thing for the magi children that will be coming into their magic fairly soon."

"It all sounds like Mendelian genetics, or even mixing chemicals in chemistry," Ed commented. "Now let me ask you, Mr Patterson, what is your specific magical talent? What is your mixture?"

Aaron froze in place, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead. "Oh god, well it had to be brought up some time. Before I tell you this, you must promise me that it will not change your opinion of me. Please do not become afraid, but also do not rouse up an angry mob with torches. Do you swear?"

Ed scoffed, a half smile forming on his face like this was a joke. "Scout's honor."

Aaron turned to the other host, a look of dead seriousness penetrating her view. "Lisa, do you swear?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

Aaron took a deep breath, bracing himself to come out about his form of magic. "I have a fairly....unique combination. I am what you might call .... a necromancer."

Ed blinked from his seat, taking it in. "Correct me if I'm wrong, my DnD lore might be a bit rusty, but isn't that a sorcerer who deals exclusively with the dead?"

"Yes and no. The age old view of the necromancer has been that of a plague maker, body snatcher and a mad wizard who makes the dead do his bidding. I assure you, I have never done a single one of those abominable acts and I never intend to do them. That is a completely different form of magic, one that is almost exclusively chaotic called reanimism, or reanimating once living entities. What I do is a form of soul magic, a natural form of magic that tends to lean towards harmony. I can communicate telepathically with the souls of the deceased. I can channel them to extract certain traits or information, or send them on their way to the next plane of existence. In a way I'm more like a priest or an exorcist than anything."

"You said you had a combination, what's the other part of your mixture, Mr Patterson?" Lisa asked.

Aaron grimaced again. "Another touchy subject. Are either of you particularly devout in your faith?"

"No sir, I left behind Protestantism when a wall of green magic hit me and then my dog told me he was leaving with the family jewels," Ed said jokingly.

"I was never really a person of faith," Lisa said.

"Right then, the other part of my mixture is god magic. Magic that is gifted to me as a part of my service to my matron. She gets to borrow my body every now and then to use as a bridge into this world, and I get the sweet pizzazz from the other side."

"Who is this 'she', Dr Patterson?" Lisa asked out of turn.

"A deity that likes to call herself 'Mother', but she's told me her real name before. Though it was in some kind of language that cannot be replicated by the human tongue. Conveniently it translates to 'Gaia', so all those Wiccan circles were at least on the right track. My communication with my matron is also telepathic, just like when I speak with spirits."

Ed tried to take this in. "If I may ask, where might I find this 'goddess' of yours?"

Aaron spread his arms, indicating everything in the room. "She uses the gravity well that planet Earth exudes as an anchor. She is constructed completely of energy fields, and can interact with any energy field within her range. Magic is what gives gods like her their sapience; and they grow, feed, fight and evolve just like us, but on a much more grand scale and over billions, not millions of years."

"They? How many gods are there?"

Aaron chuckled, taking a sip out of his cup of coffee. "Might as well ask how many particles there are in this galaxy. Each and every planet, star, large asteroid, wanton gravity well and nebula in the universe has the potential to harbor one of these celestial energy beings, if not multiple. Trust me, Mother showed her view of the universe once, space is at a premium out there. Some of them even band together to form 'pantheons', rough governments to decide how energy is to be divided amongst their members."

"Why energy? What's so important about energy to them?"

"Simple, they need to feed on energy sources to maintain their minds and expand their influence. Our matron protects us like a lioness from other gods not only because she so dearly enjoys our company, she can incorporate the excess energy that we put out, limiting her need to risk herself by venturing out for sustenance. It's not harmful or detrimental to us, she just absorbs what we don't use or what we put off as waste energy. By the way, she's telling me that your radio signal sucks and that I need to put my hand on your mixboard."

Lisa gave a nervous laugh. "Well, if 'god wills it', by all means."

Aaron nodded, placing a hand delicately on the on the electronic device, clearing his mind and allowing for a transference. A stream of magic flowed into the device, spreading into every electronic in the studio. The pulse receded, and Aaron seemed to shake out of some deep sleep. "Whew, hate it when she takes over like that without a rune circle to dampen it. But your signal should be strong enough to be heard clearly in Gladstone."

"You're kidding, right? All the way to Gladstone? Well listeners, tell me sometime soon if the quality of my voice just became HD or if we just saw some fancy smoke and mirrors. I mean, pardon me for being abrupt with you, but despite the very philanthropic gesture you just did I have a few more questions to ask. Actually, I think it's Lisa's turn."

"M'kay, this is just a personal question, what's with the color of your magic? I've seen blues, reds, purples, and even some golden magic auras, what's the difference?" the hostess inquired.

Aaron summoned a tiny glow of his own magic. "It's just like a fingerprint, there's no real correlation between the color of your magic and what it does. Unless of course your magic is one of the more pure forms, in which case it will take on a corresponding color. Typically white or polychromatic for harmonious, and black or dark purple for chaos magic."

Ed loudly cleared his throat, calling to attention the need to get back on subject. "Alright, our next question for you isn't necessarily relevant to magic users. What about the rest of us? Is there some kind of magic we can use?"

Aaron nodded, turning to another page in his notes. "You are of course familiar with earth ponies? You notice how naturally strong they are, how tough and resilient they are? I've seen an earth pony take a blow that would have hospitalized a unicorn, and just shake it off and keep working. The latent magic magic present in earth ponies makes them stronger, tougher, faster, more in tune with animals and plant life. Now, let me ask you Ed, have you felt any more fit? Or have you even noticed that you can do something you like with far greater proficiency than you ever could before?"

Ed thought for a few moments. There had been times when he seemed possessed by almost superhuman strength, like when he had lifted the entire kitchen table so that Lisa could sweep under it. And now that he thought about it, back in the old days of the twenty first century, he would never have been able to do such a job like this. "Yeah, I guess I have."

"What you are experiencing is the activation of your latent magic. You are stronger, smarter, faster, and you have activated your savant ability."

"Savant ability?" Ed asked in confusion. Typically savants were kids with autism or Down's Syndrome that could play piano like it was nobody's business or paint a picture of Buckingham Palace from memory.

"Yes, just like ponies have a special talent that is displayed by their cutie mark, humans are now starting to show signs of such specialization. Look at Mr Sedgway in the Park, how many statues has he cranked out in just one year? With such perfect features and heart wrenching emotion? It's his special talent, his savant ability to create such beautiful art from lifeless stone. I mean, just this morning I was walking around the market and walked into a shop to look for some souvenirs for my friends. It just so happened that the man who ran that shop was a recently discharged Army Ranger, with several commendations for valor and more than one medal to his name. He had arms that could put most oak trees to shame, and he was tall enough to stare a minotaur in the eye. And do you know what he was crafting in that little shop? Toys. Little toys for all the newborn children of Lazarus. And he was easily the happiest man I have seen yet today. He was doing what made him happy in life, and he did it almost perfectly. That is what the meaning of a savant ability is, doing what makes you happy, and doing it good."

"Wow," Ed said quietly. "I never thought that I might be doing some kind of magic just by doing what I do. So, does that not mean I'm a not a human, like those mage babies?"

Aaron's eyes seemed to glow with a seething anger. "Do me a favor, never say that again. I've heard what some parties are saying. I've heard all that propaganda and baseless 'facts' that seems to hold such faithful credence among some circles. Magi like myself, like those children down in the nursery, we are not some subspecies of humanity! Homo arcanus, that's what some people are to pass those harmless children off as. Some kind of separate species that deserves to be studied under a microscope, I've even heard socially conservative women say they would rather miscarry than bear a magi. There is nothing, NOTHING wrong with them! They're just as human as any person born in the twenty-first century, they just have their full potential unlocked and made available to them."

"I, uh, didn't...realize-" Ed stammered, not knowing how grave of an insult he had doled out.

"Just be sure never to think that way again. What if one of your children turned out to be a mage? What if I used my magic to peer into your genome, and told you that you were intended to be a mage child? Would you want to be treated any differently than any other person?"

"No sir," Ed replied very quickly, shaking his head.

"Then follow the Golden Rule." Aaron leaned back in his chair, folding his arms and glaring holes through Ed. "Next question, please."

Ed seemed to cringe in his chair, his eyes flicking over to his co-host and pleading with her: save me damn it!

Lisa caught his gesture, clearing her throat and flipping through the cards. In retrospect, most of them seemed redundant and repetitive. Tossing them onto her desk, she drew a question off the top of her head. "So, can anyone learn how to do magic?"

Aaron shifted over to Lisa, still seeming to hold on to that feeling of anger towards Ed. "Depends. Nobody except unicorns and magi can do the active form of magic. But with enough training, discipline and study, you can be taught certain forms of magic. Runic magic, alchemy, rituals, chants, they're very user friendly forms of the arcane. Alchemy is probably the simplest of the lot, but it still takes years of practice to make the most effective potions and it is easily the most expensive."

Lisa tapped her fingers in anxiousness, despite his little show of opinion a few moments earlier, she still wanted to learn even more about magic and how to do it. "Is it true about the old fictions of wizards using wands, magic trinkets, staves and the like?"

"Some of it, yes. I've never seen anypony use a magic wand, but I know for a fact that some unicorn wizards and conjurers bind spells to objects like talismans, jewelry, and even weaponry. Enchanting is its own field of magical study, and like all the other schools it takes years of study and practice." Aaron slipped a hand into his pocket, pulling out a large sapphire gemstone. 

"What is that?" Lisa asked, leaning close and looking for any sign of magic power coming from the stone.

"This is a little practice experiment of mine. I wanted to make it into my familiar at first, but Twilight says that is years down the road if I continue to study. Imagine that, a little gemstone golem following me around! But she said that would be a waste of a good gemstone, and then I'd probably neglect it. But anyways, I've laid a spell on it that activates with a command word. Here, try it out." He tossed the gemstone over to the hostess, who caught it in her slender hands. "Just say, light."

"Um, okay. Light." The facets of the gem began to glow with an internal fluorescence, and the sapphire shined with a bright light that easily illuminated the entire room.

"Pretty neat, huh? It's what ponies used back in the ancient days as a flashlight when torches were too cumbersome or when they needed a stronger light. You can go ahead and keep it, I've got three more. And to turn it off, just say dark." 

Ed's eyes flicked over to the slightly scorched clock on the wall. "Well Mr Patterson, I'm afraid we're out of time. Thank you for coming in for our show, and we wish you the best of times for tomorrow night. Once again listeners that was Dr Aaron Patterson, Ambassador to the Realm of Equestria, and might I say very opinionated fellow. This is Ed Burns and that was your daily dose of the Lunch Hour, and now for a few choice pieces from Eddie van Halen in his prime." 

Both Lisa and Aaron switched off their headsets, letting Ed take over the studio once again. She escorted the guest host out of the studio room and out to the living room of their house.

"Hey, thanks for coming in today. I know Ed can be a bit of an unthinking jerk sometimes, and I apologize for that from the bottom of my heart."

"It's no big deal," Aaron replied. "He just kind of hit me in a soft spot, and I overreacted to it, and for that I should be the one apologizing."

Lisa bit her lip, wondering if she should ask the question that had been nagging her throughout the entire interview. "So, um...do you think I might be able to learn some of those spells you were talking about?"

Dr Patterson raised an eyebrow. "You mean the alchemy, runes, rituals and whatnot?"

"Well, yeah."

The man flashed a quick grin. "Is your heart in the right place? Are you willing to dedicate years of study into this endeavor? And most importantly, are you willing to use such a gift for only the good of all peoples?"

Lisa had a moment of soul searching, wondering whether her urge to do magic was all selfish. "Yes. I'm willing to be nothing but altruistic."

Dr Patterson nodded, turning to walk out the door. "Good, we'll meet at the gazebo in the Park, two days from now at sunset. Trust me, after the gala it will be much simpler to practice and perform. Also, invite some friends if you want. On a personal note, a friend of mine has been whispering to me that you might try spicing up the show by adding some fresh blood."

"Fresh blood? You mean hire another jockey?"

"Yeah, and why not diversify while you're at it."


*******************************************************


Don't know why I wrote this, should be focused on the main story. Actually, I should be focused more on my slipping grades, or my crushing loneliness. Anyways, enjoy!
> Res Publica
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lyra happily hummed as she toted a pair of heavy saddlebags on her back, her eyes resting easily on the bouncing candy adorned flank only a foot in front of her face. Another of the reasons why she latched onto Bonbon, she had withers that could stun stallions, and she knew it!

"OH!" Bonbon squealed, coming to a very abrupt stop. "Sweet potatoes, in late spring for only eight dollars a bushel! How do they do it?" Bonbon had very quickly picked up the exchange rate for Equestrian bits and Terran dollars, in her profession she sometimes had to deal with more outlandish forms of currency, and knowing the exchange rates for her imports was always a necessity.

Lyra rolled her eyes at the prospect of carrying an entire bushel on her back. "I dunno, must be those huge friggin' greenhouses on the other side of the city."

Bonbon completely ignored her, bolting over to the stand to start haggling for an even lower price. Groaning, Lyra followed close behind. 

The custard mare started haggling with the salesman, who seemed adamant that the price was non-negotiable. Lyra's thoughts began to stray as she stood there in boredom. Her amber-gold eyes began to drift across the market, skipping over the boring stores for fabrics, foodstuffs, carpentry workshops, and even a few older style smithies for small metal work. And as the small arguement raged between her lover and the shopkeep, she spotted something familiar across the street. An establishment with dingy windows and a portrait of an exceptionally ugly human man swinging over the door. 

Mmm, human beer, Lyra daydreamed, staring through the window at several human men beating the minor heat of day with a frosty glass of amber heaven. She ran her tongue over her lips, her mind begging for a mug of stout right about now.

Lyra's tongue suddenly seemed to become as dry as the deserts around Las Pegasus, and her thirst begged for only one thing to quench it. "Hey, uh, hon? You look a little tied up right now, I'm gonna go grab a drink."

Bonbon waved her off with a hoof, still glowering at the shopkeeper who refused to haggle. "Yeah yeah, fine. Just don't spend too much. Now back to you buster! I think that-" 

With liberty granted to her from the hellish nightmare that she endured with Bonbon known as 'shopping', Lyra dumped her heavy saddlebags, keeping a small wallet of bits and Terran dollars she had acquired from the man boarding her at his house. Looking both ways for careening carts or wagons, Lyra proudly trotted across the street towards Abraham's Pub. 

It looked so welcoming and inviting; the mirthful and boisterous laughter of men sharing a joke could be heard across the street. And even from outside the door she could smell a hint of beer and distilled spirits begging to be in their rightful place, her stomach. 

She swung open the door and went inside, her head held high as she trotted over to the bar. She eyed the tall barstool meant for humans oddly, but with some difficulty she managed to climb atop, sitting like a human and facing the bar. Only when she became settled did she realize that the entire establishment had gone completely silent. 

Peering over her shoulder, her gaze met the glares of at least a dozen men shooting daggers with their eyes at her. "Friendly crowd," she muttered to herself, turning back to the bar. Tapping her hoof on the long, carved walnut bar top, she waited to be served. "Excuse me, can I get some service here?" she asked.

A hefty, jovial looking bartender walked in from the backroom, carrying an armload of whiskey bottles. Seeing the pony on the stool, he set his whiskey bottles down, his normally friendly look turning sour. "You lost?" he spat to her.

Lyra glanced around just to make sure this was indeed Abraham's Pub. "Nnnnope. I'm right where I want to be. Can I get a beer? What do you guys have on tap?"

Instead of reaching into his icebox to retrieve a frosted beer glass and filling it with heavenly brew, the bartender folded his arms and glared at the minty unicorn. "Nothing for you."

The unicorn laughed, thinking he underestimated her. "I'm not that much of a light weight! Come on, I can handle a little bit of booze at lunch time. What do have on tap?"

"I repeat," the bartender growled, "Nothing for you." He jabbed a stubby, meaty finger at a sign hanging over the inside of the doorway. A black silhouette of a pony stood on a white background. It could have been anypony, but it distinctly lacked horns or wings. But what defined the sign was the red circle and the slash that covered the silhouette. "We don't serve your kind here, so just head out that door and take your business elsewhere." 

Her eyes grew wide, and her jaw fell slack. But instead of breaking down like the bartender expected her to, a little flame of rage appeared in her eyes. "You're kicking me out ... BECAUSE I'M A PONY?!" Lyra resisted the urge to simply leap over the bar and whale on this jerk, but her years of being married to Bonbon called forth a more logical solution. "I'd like to speak to your manager, sir," she said with pure venom dripping from her voice.

The bartender laughed at her, his jowls shaking. "Look you freakin' farm animal, you either walk out that door in thirty seconds or we get the MPs involved. What's it gonna be?"

Several chairs behind her shifted, and Lyra could feel several pairs of eyes bearing down on her menacingly. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Lyra looked the bartender in the eye. "Fine, I'll leave." Sliding down from the barstool, she turned to walk out the door. But she couldn't just let them win, she couldn't just leave with injured pride.

Magic flared up the length of her horn, and she whisked away a bowl of pretzels from the bar as the husky bartender reached for them. "Oops," she said sweetly and innocently. "My magic slipped." Lyra smirked at the red faced bartender, stuffing pretzels in her mouth as she trotted out.

And she almost instantly regretted it. Humans apparently loved their bar fare salty, and her bone dry tongue felt like a strip of leather in her mouth. But Lyra's discomfort was worth it to see that bigoted jerk's face turn a plum shade of purple in rage.

Lyra trotted sullenly across the street to where Bonbon sat in disappointment. Apparently, humans were dead serious when they set a price, and only a quarter bushel of her desired sweet potatoes sat ready to be born by Lyra. Bonbon tapped a hoof in impatience, narrowing her eyes as she spied the curled lip on Lyra's mouth. 

"That didn't take very long. Did they short you on a pint?"

"No," Lyra growled. "They kicked me out."

"Oh Celestia! What did you do this time? Get in another fight? Break a bottle over some guy's head?" Bonbon moaned to herself, slapping a hoof to her face.

Lyra shook her head, levitating the bulging saddlebags onto her back once more. "No, I haven't done any of that fun stuff for a few years, not since I stopped going drinking with Berry. Apparently I was just born the wrong species to be served there."

"What? Wrong species? What are you talking about?"

Lyra shook her head, taking up a canter towards the residential district. "They don't allow ponies in that building. Come to think of it, they don't allow ponies in the Undercity unless they're escorted. And what's the deal here?" She waved a hoof to all the storefronts, stores owned and run exclusively by humans even though pony shopkeepers were in apparent abundance. "All the pony owned shops are on some secluded street, away from the rest of the market! I haven't seen a single non-human creature doing anything more than stocking shelves or sweeping the street!"

"I don't know Lyra. It's the human's city, so it's their rules about how things work. Who are we to question their rules? I mean, Dr Whooves said that their civilization is at least three times older than ours, so they must have figured things out to where they would work with everypony fairly rewarded, right?"

Lyra sighed, desperately thirsty for something more than just beer or even water right now. "I guess you're right. Let's get back to the house, I have to practice the music the government gave me for tonight."


**********************************************************************


"Is my tie straight?"

"Darling, for the last time, it's fine."

Aaron fidgeted with the bowtie once more, wondering if he should trade it out for a bolo or even a business tie. "Be honest with me Rarity, I'm McGoff's lifeline tonight. If I don't look as sharp as a whip crack, it'll be an affront to the Republic. If I don't look completely professional, it could mean the difference between an alliance and a potential war in the future!"

The white unicorn chuckled quietly to herself, magically hemming one of his pant legs. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were nervous about something else. Or should I say, someone else. Do you really have such trouble with females of your own species?"

The man sighed, resisting the urge to run his fingers through his hair. "You could say that. I've never really been a Casanova. Can I ask you something?"

Rarity plucked a pin from her mouth, hiding it in the seam of his collar. "Of course. Arms out please."

"What do you like on a first date? What works? If I get nervous, do I imagine myself somewhere else or something like that?"

"Getting rather personal, aren't we? Listen, if you need to imagine yourself somewhere else, then you shouldn't be there in the first place. Let it flow naturally, just be who you are and if she respects that, she's a good one." The fashionista pinched a seam, drawing it straight. "There! All done. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to do something about Pinkie's mane in the next hour. I'll need my strongest brushes," she murmured to herself, levitating a travel bag filled to the brim with her trademark fashion supplies. Rarity stopped herself before leaving Aaron's room. "If you do get nervous, just think about our little gift."

"Course, thanks Rarity." Making sure not to ruffle his tux, Aaron walked very stiffly over to a chest by the window. Running a hand along a set of runes meant to only open to his touch, the lid slowly hinged open, revealing his mysterious bundle wrapped in velvet. "It's not the date I'm worried about, it's you," he murmured to the foot long cylinder that hummed with magic. He caressed the bundle, and even through the velvet wrap he could feel a gentle and comforting warmth.

People are still too paranoid about magic, are we jumping the gun by giving them this so soon? he projected through his thoughts.

They have to learn to live with it eventually, this will simply allow them to come to terms with magic on their own. Besides, they're as ready as they'll ever be, his constant ethereal companion replied. 

"If you say so," he said aloud. Gently taking the bundle out of its most recent resting place, he cradled it in his arms carefully. "Okay, let's go pick up my date. Oops, can't forget my notes." He grabbed a small notebook from his bureau, stuffing it into his pocket. "Alright, showtime!"

He walked with a bounce in his step out of his room, and as he turned the corner to head downstairs, he bumped into a certain mint green unicorn toting her harp in its case. Both beings lost their grips on their precious packages, fumbling them around in the air before grabbing them firmly. 

"Sorry Mrs Heartstrings, wasn't really paying attention."

"Neither was I," Lyra replied, a very dejected look adorning her face underneath her layered makeup.

Lifting an eyebrow, Aaron couldn't help but be curious. "You alright? You look a little down."

"It's nothing," Lyra sighed. "Some guys in the market just gave me a hard time today, and I just can't get it out of my mind!"

"Hard time? What do you mean?"

"Well," Lyra started. "They...it's no big deal. I have to get going, gotta be there early."

Aaron grinned. "Yeah, me too. Good luck with the ambiance." And with that, he neatly and stiffly walked down the stairs and out the door, dead set on keeping his very rigorous and tight schedule.

The man whistled as he walked down the street towards the residential district's Undercity lift, toting the velvet wrapped bundle under one arm, his open hand weaving a stream of magic into a corsage made of dewdrops and gossamer. 

Meanwhile, Lyra toted her harp in her magic aura along with her provided sheets of music and a stand. Trotting easily down the street with Bonbon at her side, the unicorn noticed how many houses seemed packed with people, all of them cheerily shouting, drinking, laughing and just having a boisterous good time. The sun was still a few hours from setting, yet a few people clambered around on their rooftops setting up fireworks displays for their celebration.

And it came to her, one full year ago these people had earned a second chance at life. One full year ago the Elements of Harmony had wrested control of humanity's souls away from fear and chaos, and brought them back from the deathly sleep of stasis. Four seasons since the Royal Army of Equestria and the remnants of the United States Army had stood face to face across a field of battle, ready to shed blood in the name of their races. And one year since Aaron and Princess Luna had stood together, ancient enemies standing as one between their armies, begging to their leaders to broker peace between their peoples. With the power of harmony having healed the flaw within mankind's souls, they chose to live without bloodshed. Now, a year later, they chose to celebrate this momentous occasion in the newest chapter of their history, whether it was through silent contemplation, loud parties or by attending the elite gala in the park. 

Both mares came to the pathway leading into the park, guarded by a pair of Terran soldiers in dress uniform, not their combat gear as usual. "Invitation?" one asked. Lyra pulled both hers and Bonbon's out of the bosom of her dress, presenting them for inspection. "Oh, you're part of the entertainment. Stage is just over there, speak to the coordinator for the music schedule and your play list."

"Thank you sir," Bonbon replied as both trotted by. And as they went down the pathway to the great fields in the center of the park, they couldn't help but notice that the humans had gone all out on the decorations. Delicate paper lanterns decorated the trees like fireflies, flowers had been cultivated months in advance at the base of every tree. Even a new statue stood ready to be praised by generations to come. A fitting piece, one of President McGoff and Princess Celestia both holding a golden apple above their heads, the shards of a broken arrow lying at their feet. Inscribed at the base were the eloquently carved words: The Peace of Terra.

The pathway led the mares into the heart of the Park, and into the large field which had been converted rather quickly into a ballroom in nature. Hundreds of tables stood ready with silverware and empty wine glasses, each table stocked with either chairs or cushioned pillows for races not accustomed to chairs. At the north end of the park, a sizable stage already had a few pony and human musicians tuning their instruments, preparing for the arrival of the guests.

A human man with an ascot tied around his neck and a wispy mustache rushed around to each musician, giving each musician a time set. "Alright Ms Davis, you'll be doing Bach's Cello Suite No. 1 starting at precisely 7:13! And for once honey, try not to milk it! Mr Flume, you give Ms Davis a three second cool down, then you start up with Mozart's Rondo in D. Remember Jerry, it's a violin, not a FIDDLE! So none of that Charlie Daniels screeching that I heard yesterday! Where is my harpist!? Oh lord, McGoff said I had a professional harpist here tonight!"

"Right here," Lyra said, taking her cushion on the stage and setting up.

"Oh thank heavens. What's your name sweetie?"

"Lyra," she responded to the effeminate maestro.

"Fitting. Alright sweetie, do you have your sheet music?" Lyra levitated her provided music onto her stand and nodded. "Good, after our cello section finishes their second song, you give them a four second break moment then jump straight into Debussy's Clair de Lune. It's a good romantic dance song that we'll play right before dinner to relax everyone, got it?"

"Righto, boss."

The coordinator fumbled around in his pockets, fishing out a cigarette and lighting it. "And if it goes for more than two hours, do whatever you feel like, I didn't plan this for more than two hours anyways. And knowing politicians, they'll just want to race their little lips all night long!"

Human men and women rushed around the Park, making last minute adjustments and decorations, setting tables and preparing a huge barrel of wine imported from Prance. The human guests began to arrive, gathering in groups and chatting mildly while awaiting the arrival of the more important guests. 

Over by the pathway, Aaron promenaded his date into the large clearing in the Park. "You look lovely tonight," he commented to her. Though she wore a fairly plain black dress with pearl earrings, Anita was simply stunning to him, and he proudly escorted her to the gala. 

"Stop that," she giggled. "You've been goggle eyeing me since you saw me in my apartment."

"But it's true! I cannot tell a lie, thou art a delicate orchid that has blessed this lowly clod with thine presence," he said in his most Shakespearean tone.

The social worker giggled. "Who fed you that line, one of your friends?" she asked.

Aaron's cheeks turned a slight shade of pink, and he sheepishly smiled. "Maybe." Spying his post ahead, he turned to his date. "Okay Ann, I have to do a little meet and greet with McGoff for all the guests. So I'm gonna have to fly for a few minutes."

"Okay," she replied. She gave a seductive smile, twining a lock of her platinum hair around a finger. "Just remember, save me a spot at the head table." She pirouetted on her heels, intermingling with a conversing crowd as though she had been there for the entire conversation.

"Righto," Aaron murmured, walking over to the entryway to join the trio of men already standing there. 

Centermost stood the leader of the Republic and the one time Commanding General of the United States Army, President Tyler McGoff. Dressed in a tuxedo, he looked approachable and he wore a smile that both welcomed and intimidated. To his immediate left stood General Jean Pilotte, dressed in his military dress uniform and wearing bombardier shades. Pilotte was possibly one of the most solidly built men in the Republic, standing a head taller than his companions and having more muscle under that officer's jacket than some minotaurs had in their bodies. And finally, a few steps to McGoff's right stood Vice President Edgar Smitts, presiding officer and liaison to the Terran Senate. Smitts was considered by most to have a face like a weasel with the scheming and cunning of a fox. Smitts had a few state senate tenures under his belt, and his charisma and silver tongue made him an asset. But Terra be damned if there was a man who could get a bill floored and passed through the Senate with as little debate as possible like Smitts.

"You're late," McGoff said to the ambassador to Equestria.

Aaron took the space between McGoff and Smitts. "'Scuse me Eddie. Sorry I'm late boss, had to pick up my date."

"Date huh? Finally gettin' out there?"

"Yes sir, figured I needed to stop being selfish and contribute to the gene pool. You see her over there?" He pointed out Anita in a crowd, the platinum blonde politely laughing at some story told by a senator. Each of the three men craned their necks to take a look while staying in their spot.

"The blonde?" asked Pilotte, his deep voice edged with mild French accent. 

"Yup."

"Could we focus please?" Smitts said, eager to cast his lot in with the monarchial dignitaries that would soon arrive. "This is too big of a deal to be sitting here ogling some pretty girl. Alright Patterson, start spilling the beans, what are we up against here?"

"Oh you won't be disappointed, Eddie boy. We've got dignitaries coming from Africa, Europe, South America, and a ton from here in North America. Notables include a few higher ups in the gryphon nobility including Prince Alanon; if any of you get stuck with him, just listen while he regales you with his hunting stories. Then there's our good buddies, the Equestrians. Both of the Princesses will be in attendance; light conversation is suitable as they are very busy mares and will be moving through the crowd at a certain pace. Under no circumstance are you to allow Princess Luna more than four glasses of champagne." Aaron said by rote, reading off the list of dignitaries from memory. "I don't know the rest personally, but I can give you advice so we don't flop on the proper introduction."

A chariot born by pegasi passed overhead, casting a shadow over the gala before landing in a zone cleared for airborne guests. 

"Alright boys, showtime," McGoff said to his compatriots. A human server dressed very smartly rushed to the chariot, getting the names from one of the pegasi soldiers. 

Turning about, he cleared his throat before announcing loudly, "Announcing her Royal Majesty, Princess Celestia, Sovereign Ruler of the Realm of Equestria. Announcing Princess Luna, Sovereign Ruler of the Realm of Equestria." 

Both regal alicorns gracefully stepped down from the chariot, and for once they had shed their royal regalia in favor of elaborate and eye catching dresses. Celestia bore a gown of white interlaced with gold filigree and her mane lie in tamed curls. Luna wore a dress with night blue that almost seemed woven onto her body like spider silk. Stopping before the four human representatives, the diarchs bowed before the men who led the nation they were guests in.

"Your Excellency," Princess Celestia directed to President McGoff. "It is good seeing you after so many seasons of separation."

"I feel the same way, Princess. Please, you and your sister make yourselves at home. Tonight, our home is yours."

"I thank you for the warm welcome, Mr President. Mr Ambassador," Celestia nodded to Aaron, leaning down her horn for a far less formal welcoming that could only be done through magic. Encompassing a single finger with his magic, he touched the tip of the alicorn's horn. A moment later, Celestia smiled and said, "That is wonderful to hear, it is always a treat knowing friends are doing well." 

"Ah, it's good seeing you too Celestia. And Luna, you look positively lovely tonight."

The lunar diarch bowed before her former ancient nemesis. "I accept your compliment, dear friend. Now if I may so curt, where may I find a glass of fine wine?" Aaron stifled a laugh as he pointed out a waiter with a tray of glasses. Both alicorns left to mingle, leaving the four representatives with the next arrival.

"Announcing Lady Redwood, Lord Regent of the Crystal Empire!" A sparkling pony with a coat of shining silver and a mane like rubies promenaded down the pathway, her entourage of courtiers glancing around carefully at their strange surroundings.

"Woah, what's with her?" McGoff hissed to Aaron.

"She's a crystal pony. Don't point it out though, when among other ponies they get very self conscious about their sparkling coat. They're from around central Canada, near the shores of Lake Winnipeg. Militarily they're no threat at all, the Crystal Empire is smaller than us, if you can believe that."

"Then how are they an empire?" McGoff cleared his throat before bowing to the silvery mare. "Your Grace, I am President Tyler McGoff, may I be the first to welcome you and your people to our nation."

Lady Redwood gave a polite curtsy to the imposing President of the Republic. "Your Excellency, my people are grateful for your invitation, and we wish to extend an apology for the absence of our beloved Princess Cadence. The trials of motherhood have taken their toll on her, and she was in no safe condition to travel."

"I understand, my people are also dearly endowed with so much new life as of late."

"As are mine, one thousand years of absence have left us in the wake of many nations where we once stood proud and mighty."

General Pilotte chuckled. "Little sister, you have no idea how much we have in common right now."

Vice President Smitts jumped in quickly, hoping to curtail such crudeness. "What he means to say is that our peoples are so alike in history that we might find a compassionate bond in one another that other races may lack. Please, enjoy yourself tonight as one of our guests of honor." As the crystal mare and her courtiers passed by to mingle and talk, Smitts shot Pilotte a death glare. "Little sister?! Have you no sense of manners?"

"More than you, amerloque. I'm French, we're nursed on passive-aggressive social mannerisms along with wine soaked baguettes and those foolish berets. Mon dieu, how I hate your stereotypes."

Aaron raised an eyebrow at McGoff. "Since when did his inner Frenchie start coming out?"

McGoff rolled his eyes and sighed. "There's a reason he's wearing those damn stupid sunglasses. Jean absolutely hates parties of any sort, so he 'fortifies' himself beforehand to make himself more sociable."

"You mean he's drunk right now?"

McGoff shrugged and looked on to the next dignitary. "He's very good at holding his liquor. Besides, as long as he doesn't go overboard it keeps him behaved."

"Announcing Prince Alanon, Lord of the Wind Isle and heir to the Throne of Kali'Gryph!"

Aaron leaned over to McGoff, whispering to his ear. "He's the Duke of Prince Edward Island. Kali'Gryph takes up most of old Newfoundland, Labrador, Quebec, Nova Scotia and Ontario. Now when he approaches you, he might do something a bit odd. We may dodge a bullet and he may pass up on the rite, but Prince Alanon is one for tradition like his father, King Osgul. Do not ask Alanon about his father's health. Alanon is next up for the throne of Kali'Gryph, and Osgul could croak at any time. It's his son we want to impress. So unless there's a civil war in Kali'Gryph, we want to buddy up with this guy as much as possible."

A mustachioed gryphon bedecked in shining ceremonial armor approached, a pair of gryphon soldiers by his sides, carefully watching for danger in this foreign land. Underneath all that unnecessary steel, his fur was a rusty red, and his head feathers white with speckles of black. He had an overall sense of arrogance, and he lifted his beak at the simple settings of the Park. Regardless, he bowed before McGoff.

"Your Imminence, I am President Tyler McGoff, leader of the Republic and of the human people."

Alanon nodded. "I am Alanon Khardan, son of Osgul Khardan, King of all the Aeries of Kali'Gryph." 

The gryphon prince reared back on his hind legs, puffing out his chest and spreading his wings. McGoff took a step back in concern. Aaron grabbed his shoulder, pulling McGoff close. "Crap, he actually wants to do it! Okay, what you need to do is hit him!" Aaron whispered in a hiss.

"Hit him?! What do you mean 'hit him'?!"

"Ball up your best fist and knock the living daylights outta that gryphon! As hard as you can!"

"If you say so." McGoff took no further delay, swinging a fist with his entire body weight behind it straight at Alanon's chin. Both Aaron and Vice President Smitts winced when they heard the undeniable sound of bone on bone impact, and Alanon flew back into the arms of his soldiers, his head shaking in a dazed cloud. 

McGoff rubbed his knuckles, and Alanon stumbled back to his hind legs, staring McGoff in the face. Pilotte's hand moved discreetly over to his side, lest this come to a violent confrontation. Instead, the gryphon's scowl turned into a broad smile, and Alanon started to laugh.

"It has been far too many years since I have received such honors from a host! A fine show of strength, my good sir! Equestrians always refuse such a right."

McGoff managed a grin. "Well, you and your boys can go ahead and make yourselves at home. Welcome to the Republic of Terra." Prince Alanon and his pair of retainers marched past and into the crowd, Alanon showing off his swelling bruise like a medal or trophy. "What in the name of polite society was that about?"

"Gryphons base a dynasty's strength on the strength of their potential foes," Aaron explained. "If a person is weak, they ignore that person as a potential ally or even see that as a reason to pick a fight with them. If a potential ally shows great strength, like you did by ceremonially knocking him flat out, that means you are someone worthy of fighting and therefore worthy of fighting alongside. That shiner you just gave him is a badge of honor, a trophy that says he allowed a stronger force to get a courtesy blow, and he survived it with pride. So by punching him as hard as you could, you reinforced his status as being someone strong. I wouldn't be surprised if Alanon thinks you're his best friend now. Shit, he might even ask you to join him on a hunt."

The dignitaries continued to arrive in droves, at some points every member of the four man welcoming party was tied up with some non-human ambassador or leader. The gentleman announcing the arrival of each leader soon shouted himself hoarse and had to be replaced for a few minutes. Representatives from the Zebrican Tribal Confederation walked in right behind a few chiefs from the neighboring bison chiefdoms. An ostentatiously garbed burro from Mexicolt came representing his race, slipping a bottle of tequila to Pilotte as he walked by, much to the General's delight. More rich pony nobles promenaded in, holding their heads high. And finally, with the greatest fanfare of any representative yet came the Elements of Harmony. 

They walked proudly as a group, Twilight taking the center and the lead. Each wore a dress that was fitting for a princess or a queen tailored by the skilled magic of none other than Lady Rarity herself. And around their necks lay the Element jewels, sparkling in the fading daylight.

The gentleman announcing the arrivals stuttered at their awe inspiring presence, clearing his throat and trying again. "Announcing...announcing their ladyships, Lady Twilight Sparkle, Lady Fluttershy, Lady Rarity, Lady Rainbow Dash, Lady Applejack and Lady Pinkamena Pie, of Equestria. Bearers of the Elements of Harmony and heroes of Equestria."

The Embodiements approached the four man greeting party. Twilight smiled at her friend Aaron, turning to McGoff before kneeling down. 

"No," Tyler said to the mare. Kneeling down to see eye to eye, he helped the unicorn back to her hooves. "For what you have done for us, you will never kneel before a person of this nation." McGoff placed a hand on Twilight's shoulder, escorting her and her friends into the gala. Grabbing a glass of champagne from a waiter, the President of the Republic stepped onto the stage, holding up a hand to silence the entertainment.

"If I could have your attention please!" he said, his voice booming out across the field and reaching every person in the crowd. Silence came over the assembled creatures, and McGoff continued. "I would like to welcome you all to what I hope to be the first of many meetings of our peoples. As most of you know, I am Tyler McGoff, President of the Republic of Terra. Tonight, we honor the bonds of peace that have been offered so generously to us by those we once called our foes, and we honor those bonds yet to be made. But, we must never forget the sacrifices of those who gave their lives and their freedom so that we might be here tonight." McGoff raised his glass. "To friendships made, and friendships yet to be made. To friends both absent and in company. To the next generation, and to the honored fallen." McGoff sipped from his glass, the rest of the crowd doing the same.


******************************************************


The gala was in full swing. The musical entertainment was mostly ignored by the crowd at large, but a few people, mainly foreign dignitaries, stuck around the stage with an odd curiosity for the eloquent and stirring human music. Even Lyra herself was in awe as she plucked the delicate strings of her harp. Their ancient songs just seemed to carry so much heart and soul in every note, and she could almost feel the magical bond between the composer and his music. The toil of sweat, tears and long nights without sleep to create these masterworks that would survive even the end of humanity's time on this world.

"Alright, Lyra was it? You can take thirty minutes off," the entertainment planner told her. 

The unicorn did not respond, merely shifting her harp off to the side and stepping down from the stage, stretching her legs out from the aching stiffness from sitting still so long. Trotting towards the table where Bonbon had waited patiently for her to get off from her duties, she flopped down on the soft pillow provided for ponies. 

"Finally," she said, resisting the urge to rub her hooves. "Can we take a few before we go dancing?"

"Sure," her wife replied, using a fork and knife clenched in her fetlocks with some difficulty to carefully slice a stuffed mushroom that had been on the menu.

Lyra looked at the delicious entree with envy, her tongue flicking out to moisten her lips. "Ssssooooo, save some for moi?"

Bonbon rolled her eyes, and she slid over the plate to Lyra. Eh, it wasn't that good anyways, humans seemed to have this nearly disturbing addiction to cheese and other dairy products. Why, that mushroom alone had three types layered throughout it. Besides, Bonbon had mostly filled up on free bread. Humans may have had a strange obsession with cheese, but they knew how to make a damn good rye bread with butter.

Lyra levitated the entire course with her magic, chomping down on the fancy fare with a rather unladylike gusto. "So, di oo see meh shreddin' up der?" Lyra said, small crumbs flying out of her mouth.

"Honey, swallow," Bonbon ordered. 

Lyra obliged, gulping down the rather delicious entree and washing it down with a chugged glass of wine. "So, how do you think I did? Were you entranced, enthralled, bedazzled by my music?"

Bonbon shrugged. "It was okay. I rather liked the woman with the cello, maybe she and Tavi should do a little get together sometime, trade secrets and what not."

Lyra sat dumbfounded, her body absolutely stiff with shock. With a spastic twitch, something snapped inside of her. "Just...OKAY?!? Not heart wrenching or soul twirling?! Tear jerkingly beautiful?! Standing ovation worthy?!" Bonbon shook her head, barely containing a laugh. "Well, I guess some ponies just have no taste in music!"

Bonbon smirked at her. "Gotcha! I have to admit, you did pretty gosh darn good with that harp. Heck, the number of people actually listening doubled when you played. But double one and you get two."

Lyra melted into a puddle of pitifully criticized musician. "Why would you do that to me? You know how sensitive I am about my music!"

Bonbon pulled the plate back to herself, taking a bite out of their shared dinner. "That was for stealing my dinner. Oh, and for not taking the trash out last week. And I guess I can't forget about the pile of dirty socks you left in the corner."

"Anything else you want to add now so I can get cleared of it?"

"Hmm, nope. Not right now."

The soft rustle of a dress and the clop of hooves came from behind Lyra. "Excuse me," a vaguely familiar mare's voice said. "Is this seat taken? I must say my hooves are rather sore and I need to sit down for a spell."

"Knock yourself out lady." Lyra waved to the empty pillow next to her without even glancing over her shoulder at the mare. Bonbon took a sip of her wine, spitting it out when she recognized the new pony at the table. 

"Your Majesty!" Bonbon squeaked, leaping from her pillow and prostrating herself on the grass. 

Lyra froze, wondering which 'Majesty' she had just rudely called 'lady'. Turning slowly in her seat, her amber eyes caught the  soft, billowing blue mane and night blue coat of one of Equestria's fair and wise alicorn rulers. A block of ice dropped into her stomach, and the unicorn's jaw trembled.

"Your Majesty! Please forgive my rudeness. I-I didn't know, and...and..." Without further ado she leapt out of her seat, kneeling in the grass for Princess Luna.

Luna giggled, a touch of a smile coming to her mouth. "Oh please, it's a party! We're all guests here, there's no 'your Majesty' or 'loyal subject' tonight. I actually enjoyed the lack of formality in your response, Miss...?"

Lyra looked up from the ground, seeing the unexpectedly friendly face of her diarch. "Um, Heartstrings, your Grace. Lyra Heartstrings. And this is my wife, Bonbon."

"Hi," Bonbon said meekly, waving a hoof weakly and sliding uneasily back to her pillow.

Princess Luna sat gracefully yet comfortably on her pillow, at ease yet displaying the power she wielded with both the quill and with magic. "It is a pleasure to meet someone here who is not jockeying for favor or trying to form some under the table alliance. I must say, the dalliances are getting too out of control! The political web is thicker here than arachne silk in the Spiderwood. I can only hope you Terran ponies do not suffer from the kind of politics the nobility forces upon us."

"Terran ponies? What do you mean, Princess?"

Luna raised an eyebrow. "You are not citizens of the Republic? Hm, I merely figured that since you were not nobles from Canterlot or the Crystal Empire that I know of that you were important denizens of this fair city. I apologize for my miscalculations."

Lyra was intrigued now, and she pressed the issue just a question further. "I didn't know ponies could become citizens here."

"Why, of course they can, fair Mrs Heartstrings! It was all in the fine print of the Peace of Terra armistice. Ponies may become contributing members of human society so long as Equestria extends a reciprocal right to any humans that wish to emigrate away from their heartland."

A human man bustled over, practically wringing his hands to get a chance at schmoozing up to the Princess of Equestria. "Ah, dear Princess, I have been looking forward to meeting you! I am Alvin Brownstone, a Senator of some importance here in the Republic. As you may have heard-"

Luna did her best to look completely disinterested, which was not very difficult to accomplish. "A thousand pardons, dear Senator, but I am in no mood to discuss dalliances at the moment. I have just reunited with a very dear friend of mine and we simply must catch up."

"I understand, Princess." The Terran Senator turned his predatory gaze elsewhere, seeming to rest upon one of Prince Alanon's retainers. 

"Hmph, you would think these humans would try moderating how much politics they can engage themselves in. Unfortunately, many of them seem to thrive off of it," the Princess commented to Lyra and Bonbon.

"What was so political about that?" Bonbon asked the Princess, gaining confidence that the lunar diarch was taking a break from being a paragon or demigod.

"Everything, madam. Look over there, let us gaze upon the political process in action." Luna carefully pointed her hoof towards Senator Brownstone as he lightly chatted with the lesser gryphon lord. "Right now he is introducing himself and telling our gryphon friend what he does. And now our gryphon begins to respond with his title and his family's occupation. Oh, so we are a lesser family of nobles that produces many bales of shellfish for the throne. Well, even that can be worked with. You see, Senator Brownstone, though he is an elected member of his government, still seeks to expand his influence and power. He is starting small, allying himself with lesser nobles that are still integrated with the populace of gryphon society, enough so that he can indirectly influence gryphon society as a whole if he so desires. But the knife cuts both ways, and our gryphon noble seeks to expand his power by establishing a toe hold in Republic soil. The humans are desperate for resources, enough so that they will dally with just about anyone who controls what they want. And if a noble is allied with Terran politicians, he can be trusted to provide over other sources."

Senator Brownstone and Prince Alanon's retainer laughed at some joke that only they heard, and the Senator slipped an envelope to the gryphon, who slid it under his breastplate. "And what do we have here? The deal is made, our Senator has gained himself a 'friend' in the royal court of Kali'Gryph, and our noble has gained a potential customer and a 'friend' in the Terran Senate. You scratch my back, and I shall scratch yours."

"Wow, you sure know a lot about politics," Lyra said. She immediately regretted it, given the age of the Princess, it was likely that politics were her bread and butter for centuries.

"Not as much as they do, that is for certain. During the later years of the War, Celestia and I traveled the world seeking to end the source of what they called the Chaos Plague. We came upon a place that the humans held reverent as a cultural and religious center, a place they once called the 'Vatican'. In there I found a manuscript from their Renaissance Era called 'The Prince'. It was, and still is, the complete handbook for political maneuvering. The humans invented politics, perfected it, burned it down, built it back from the ground up and perfected it again. Everything they do contains some form of political elements, all for one and one for all. Even the most innocent and mundane of activities here are some form of either hierarchical or social politics."

Lyra glanced around, looking for the telltale signs of social politics in action. "I'm not quite seeing it."

"That is because you are looking too hard. Look at President McGoff over there." The President of the Republic was not entertaining courtiers nor seeking to expand his under-the-table network. Rather, he merely danced with a woman his own age, a strangely familiar lady with graying blonde hair that made Lyra smile. 

"He's dancing with Dr Mcentyre," Lyra said. "But she works in research and development, what's she doing dancing with the President?"

"An apt question, Mrs Heartstrings, I'll make a politico of you yet. Resources are tight for the Republic, and because of that, the budget for government expenses is constantly shifting to try and curtail economic and social degradation. Now, research requires a mountain of expenses and materials that are rather hard to come by." Dr Mcentyre allowed herself to get dipped low by McGoff, and she took the opportunity to whisper something sweet into his ear. "See, she is securing her desired resource by twining the highest authority in the land around her finger."

"Clever," Bonbon whispered. Wanting to get in on this game of 'spot the politic', Bonbon spied Dr Patterson slowly doing the steps to a romantic song with his date. Try as she might, she could find no reason as to why the Ambassdor would be promenading with a simple government worker. "But what about him? There's no reason why Mr Patterson should be courting her."

Luna chuckled. "He's not looking to expand his network of alliances and enemies. Aaron is about as innocent as they get when it comes to politics. I think he is truly just looking for a mate. Trust me, he has spent many a day as a courtier in Canterlot, he is completely averse to taking sides or delving into schemes. In fact, the only ally he truly needs is constantly with him, keeping an eye out and using him to accomplish her mundane goals. In fact, Aaron really serves as light entertainment in Canterlot, I've been trying to teach him badminton. The key word: trying."

Bonbon had a realization, and her eyes grew wide. "Then it's her who's doing the politics. She's climbing the social ladder in leaps and bounds by dating a dignitary."

Luna smiled and nodded. "Precisely. Though I hope for his sake that she truly cares for him. I do not wish to see such a once tortured soul have his heart broken. Did you know that he actually saw my memories from the War? And that we made amends and apologized after Celestia tricked us both into playing a game of chess with one another? Truly, reality is stranger than fiction!"

Lyra kept seeking the hidden motes of schemes and politics, and the more she looked, the more she found. In fact, she was so surrounded by the political process that she might as well be on the floor of the Terran Senate! Caught up in this interesting discussion with Princess Luna, she had a realization. "Oh shoot, it's about time for me to go back up on stage. Sorry we didn't dance, Bonnie."

Princess Luna also had a realization, and she sought out her sister in the crowd. The tall alicorn towered above the humans, and Celestia nodded to her once their eyes met. "Mrs Heartstrings, do not be so quick to take the stage once more. My sister and I will have to interrupt for a few moments."

Standing from her pillow, Luna joined Celestia and moved towards the stage. Finishing his dance with Anita, Aaron caught their nod, joining the alicorns. Soon, the six bearers of the Elements joined the trio, and as one group they took the stage. 

"If we may have your attention!" Luna shouted in the traditional Royal Canterlot Voice. "My sister and I wish to make an announcement. President McGoff, will you please join us?"

Tyler shrugged to all the people around him, telling everyone that this was just as surprising to him. Taking the stage, he stood before the diarchs of Equestria. Princess Celestia began, "My dearest friend, humanity is a race that has endured more than any other in this world. Your trials have been great, and your hardships many. But always you sought to overcome those trials, and in doing so you have become stronger. Today, the people of Equestria offer you respite and rest from your eternal hardships. Come with us."

The party of ponies walked through the crowd; the alicorns and the human representative leading the way. The attendees of the gala looked around, wondering what to do. As a mob they followed a respectful distance behind the party of ponies. Celestia and Luna led them deeper into the Park, somehow knowing the pathway by heart. Deeper into the ancient forest they led the humans, until they passed under a pair of carved statues and came to a perfectly round clearing. 

The pale light of the moon shone down and cloaked the gazebo in a shroud of even deeper mystery. But to the alicorns, they knew the true purpose of this place, and the true magic that it held. Stepping under the eaves with Celestia, Luna and Aaron, McGoff saw something that had never been there before. In the center of the gazebo sat a tall pedestal shrouded with a cloth.

Turning back to him, Princess Celestia smiled. "Throughout time, Equestria has had the Elements of Harmony to stand guard and serve as a beacon of hope. The Crystal Empire has had the Crystal Heart to banish away darkness and spread love. And now, it had been decided that you too deserve a beacon of your own."

Luna's horn glowed a deep blue, the shroud over the pedestal vanishing. A simple, waist high column stood, carved with runes, glyphs and etchings of the Element symbols. The flat top of the pedestal was emblazoned with the seal of the Elements of Harmony. But it was inert, and no magic seemed to flow from the pedestal.

Celestia continued the ceremony, turning to the human ambassador. "Aaron, you have protected your charge well, but now it is time it fulfilled its purpose." Aaron nodded, reaching into his coat pocket and withdrawing the mysterious, velvet wrapped bundle. Undoing the drawstrings, he slipped off the covering, revealing the object for the first time. A crystal, easily as long as his forearm and as thick as his wrist lay cradled in his hands. It was clear as spring water, and warm to the touch.

Stepping over to the pedestal, Aaron held the crystal inches over surface of the pedestal, slowly letting go. McGoff expected it to fall and shatter. But the crystal stayed put, defying gravity and hovering about three inches from the top of the pedestal. And even as he watched this defiance of nature, the crystal began to glow from within, a gentle aura of light bathing the gazebo in warmth and a feeling of harmony.

And, to his greatest surprise, he could hear it. Not with his ears, with his mind. The crystal was singing to him, gently inviting him to feel it and know it.

"Go on," Aaron said. "Touch it."

McGoff took an apprehensive step forward, glancing back over his shoulder at the clearing full of people waiting to see what would happen. He lifted a hand slowly, extending a calloused finger. The crystal beckoned to him, singing its song through his mind, reassuring him and offering nothing but light. And then, he touched it. His fingers lay on the warm, smooth surface of the singing crystal, and instantly he could feel the light within the crystal within himself.

A presence greeted his mind; powerful yet kindly. And then, it spoke to him.

Greetings Tyler McGoff, it is good to finally speak after so many years.

McGoff snapped back, gasping after hearing the psionic voice within his own mind, comforting and nonthreatening. Turning to Aaron, he could only say one thing. "That's....that's what you hear. What you see, what you feel. It's....incredible." Aaron only grinned and nodded.

"It is the Singing Crystal," Princess Celestia declared. "It is a teacher, a protector, a light within the dark, and a bridge across the realms. Harvested from the purest hearts of crystal from the Crystal Empire, it was forged in the purest magic of harmony and shaped by the will of a god. And now it shall rest in this shrine built by the spirits, and it will stand as a beacon of friendship, so long as harmony exists in this world."

McGoff was speechless, his gaze drifting from the Princess to the Singing Crystal and back. "It is...perfect. Princess, on behalf of the human race, I accept this symbol of friendship." Turning back to the crowd, he beckoned to someone. "Come here, you have to feel this!"

Dr Mcentyre stepped daintily into the gazebo, looking around apprehensively before laying her hand upon the shining stone.  She held her hand upon the crystal, a smile creeping up her face. "Hello again," she said to the familiar presence of the godly Earth Mother, given a voice through the crystal.

Another man emerged from the crowd, a soldier in his ceremonial uniform. Reaching out, he too touched the shining Singing Crystal. "I can hear them," he said quietly. "I can hear my little brother, my sister, my mom. I can hear their voices again." A tear slid down his cheek, and a smile came to his face. "I couldn't remember what they sounded like. I...I couldn't remember. I love you too Jeffy. Take care of Mom and Lana until I get there." He sniffed as he let go, turning to the Princess. "Thank you for this," he said to Celestia.

Melting back into the crowd, people gave the soldier a berth, turning back to the Singing Crystal with wonder and curiosity in their eyes. More people emerged from the crowd, entering the newly created shrine of hope and delicately laying their hands upon the holy relic.

Taking a few steps out of the gazebo to give people room, Aaron grinned. "Guess they like it after all." Within his mind, the mental link to the spirit of the Earth seemed to purr with joy and pleasure. "I guess someone else is happy too."


****************************************************************


The crowd filed back to the gala grounds in the Park, and with the Singing Crystal casting a shining light and guaranteeing a sound rest for mankind, the political atmosphere seemed to dissolve. More stories and jokes drifted in and out between conversers, and the laughter changed from polite to boisterous and more honest. 

A few human socialites even snuck off and brought back a barrel of ale. So eager was one of the minotaur merchant guildsmen to taste something other than wine that he punched through the top. The atmosphere lost the uptight strictness of an elite gala, the drink flowed freely and those who really shouldn't have been drinking began the assault on their livers with gusto.

President McGoff even dismissed the musicians, saying they would get paid in full and to just have some fun. Someone had a truly brilliant idea, running back to their house and bringing back a large set of speakers and a stereo. Setting it up on stage, they slid in an old CD and hit the play button, softly playing some of The Beatles' later albums.

Lyra and Bonbon danced for awhile, deciding that a few dances to human rock and roll were more memorable than any classical slow promenade. The two mares danced like it was nopony's business, and eventually they wore themselves out, stumbling back through the Park to their temporary house in the residential district.

It was nearing midnight by the time most of the dignitaries began to leave, promising to come back next year if invited and to strengthen their economic bonds by any means. 

About the time the waiters began clearing tables, four men took lazy seats at a table, each with a glass of wine or beer. Aaron looked positively bushed, yet his face bore a contented grin. General Pilotte leaned back in his chair, sipping a glass of water to hopefully ward off the impending hangover. The General of the Terran Army had some other concerns, like all the photos that had been snapped of him with an arm draped over Princess Luna, the pair singing the lyrics to some bawdy song in French/Prench. But like he cared.

Vice President Smitts looked rather proud of himself, despite his tiring duty of shepherding senators all night to make sure nobody made any powerful enemies. 

And finally, President McGoff kicked his feet up on the table, pulling a cigar from his jacket pocket and lighting it up. "Well boys, I think we can call tonight a definite success. Three definite signatures of either military truce or alliance, not to mention your lightbulb out there in the gazebo, Aaron."

"Hey, that thing took ten months to make. I had to give up my body so 'the big gal' could use it to make that. And don't forget, both Ambassador Vasquez from Mexicolt and Prince Alanon said they had perfect areas for human settlement; looks like the Mayflower Initiative is a 'go', so long as we can find volunteers."

"Shouldn't be a problem," Smitts muttered, taking a sip. "People want to go out and be a part of the world again, and being in a Mayflower colony might draw those adventure seekers. Besides, even if we can't get colonists, we might just suffice with a military outpost."

McGoff let out a stream of cigar smoke, sighing as he stared up at the stars. "Let's hope the Mayflower Initiative doesn't turn into another Roanoke. Last thing we need is a chunk of the populace disappearing."

"What is 'Roanoke'?" Pilotte asked, his accent becoming very pronounced. 

"It was an old British colony in North Carolina during the early Colonial Era. Every single settler vanished without a trace."

"Eugh, we do not want that," Pilotte said.

The table fell silent for a few moments, until Aaron broke it. "Gentlemen, to a better tomorrow." He lifted his glass, draining it in a single gulp. "With the friends we've made, what could possibly go wrong?"

The next morning, Aaron was very likely to find out exactly what could go wrong with the entire delicate balance that was the Republic of Terra, something minty and unicorn shaped.


************************************************************


The sun rose gently over the hilltops around Lazarus, the birds sang their morning songs to the sleeping city as the warm light of the morning star scrubbed away the blanket of dew.

The light shined through the window of the master bedroom, splashing down on the sleeping mares in their borrowed bed. Lyra swung her legs out, climbing out of bed and stretching. Glancing back at her sleeping love, she grinned as she prepared for her morning secret taboo ritual. Carefully stretching out her lower back muscles and the muscles in her hind legs, she reared back, using her tail to balance herself. 

Waving her forelegs around to maintain her balance, Lyra lifted one hind hoof, placing it forward. Gaining confidence with her ritual of bipedalism, she very slowly walked over to the window. Peering out at the rising sun, she smiled confidently. "Ah, another day in paradise." Sure her paradise had a few rough moments, but the road of life always had its little bumps. "Wish I could come here every year, just to relax and be me."

The sheets shifted behind her, and Lyra frantically dropped down to all fours. "Morning sweetie." 

"Oh don't pretend you're innocent. I know about your little 'biped' escapades. Come back to bed, my little human," Bonbon said sweetly, pulling back the sheets.

Lyra grinned, bouncing her eyebrows. "Oh yeah baby, talk dirty to me. Call me a filthy human mare!"

"Someone's excited," Bonbon purred, patting the bed with her hoof. "Come and tame me, my human mistress."

Lyra slid back in the sheets, locking lips with Bonbon. Wake up sex was always the absolute best sex, both parties were rejuvenated and could still remember the naughty dreams of last night.

And just as Bonbon began to move down between Lyra's legs, the door to the bedroom swung open.

"Mornin' Heartstr-OH MY GOD! Get a room you two!" Dr Patterson yelled, shielding his eyes.

Bonbon emerged from down below, her face flushing crimson. "We are in a room!"

"I meant someone else's room! That's my mattress you two are violating! Okay, new rule, no hanky-panky in my house!" He spun around, slamming the door behind him.

Bonbon slid back up to the headboard, crossing her hooves in frustration. "The nerve of that man, saying I can't make love to my own wife!" A bead of sweat trickled down her brow, and she bit her lip. "I'm so hot right now."

"Me too."

"Sexy shower?" Bonbon suggested.

"You know it." Both mares sped off to the master bathroom, locking the door behind them and cranking the water all the way up.

A half hour and all the hot water later, Lyra and Bonbon walked downstairs with a contented look adorning their faces. They had trouble untangling their intertwined tails so as not to raise suspicions, but they managed to look innocent enough. "Gooooood morning everypony!" Bonbon sang to the residents of the rather crowded breakfast table.

"Good morning Bonbon, good morning Lyra. Did you sleep good?" Twilight Sparkle greeted, slathering some jam onto her toast.

"I know I did," Lyra declared proudly.

Pinkie swallowed a whole pancake in one bite, pouring syrup in her mouth to wash it down. "Oh my gosh! That was such a good party last night! At first it was all 'bluh' and boring with the chit chat, but then it was all 'whee!' when they brought out the music! Not to be mean and say that your music was all boring and stuff Lyra, but it was Grand Galloping Gala-y, and I haven't had so much fun at the Grand Galloping Gala in the past."

"Um, no offense taken?" Lyra said. Twilight magically pulled another pair of stools from another room, setting them out for the additional mares. "So, where's our host?" Lyra asked, taking a stool and levitating a few pieces of toast.

"In the den eating his breakfast. He didn't want to freak us out with his more...omnivorous tendencies. I really don't mind so long as he doesn't do it in front of us. But it must be really important to them, he was tearing up and saying 'I missed you' to a pile of charred pig strips."

Rarity shuddered in her seat. "Barbaric if you ask me, eating another living creature like some kind of common beast. And a pig no less!"

The table fell fairly silent, the only sound being the clink of cutlery on plates and the rustle of paper as Twilight read the news. "Hm, the radio station hired a new host, paper says she's a pony. I might have to try listening to it again." 

Lyra and Bonbon finished their breakfast, helping out with cleaning up the kitchen and wash the dishes. Afterwards, Lyra led Bonbon back upstairs to their room to talk for a few minutes.

The unicorn sat the earth pony down on the bed, holding her hoof consolingly. Bonbon smiled at her lover, drawing her hair back behind her ear. "Lyra, what is it? You've got that look again."

Lyra bit her lip, not wanting to engage in anything right now but conversation. "I wanna talk Bonnie."

"About what?"

Lyra sighed, glancing out the window and out to the sprawling town of Lazarus. "I've been thinking. You know, about our problem."

Bonbon sighed, again with the talk of children and babies. "Lyra, we can't conceive. It's just a fact of life, you know we agreed to adopt a child in need back in Equestria when we returned home. What is there to think about?"

"I never said I was against us adopting. And I do want to adopt a child in need. But you're my partner, and I want you to be happy above anything else in this world. So I won't commit to this unless your heart is behind it as well."

"What are you talking about?" Bonbon asked, becoming more and more concerned with each cryptic statement.

"Well, we should adopt a child in need, that's what we both agree on. But I was thinking, are we sure we want to go all the way back to Equestria to adopt? I mean, there's a child that needs parents right here in Lazarus."

Bonbon raised her eyebrow, withdrawing her hoof from Lyra's grasp. "I'm...I'm not sure I understand. I haven't seen many pony foals at all in this city."

Lyra gazed deep into her sea blue eyes, and Bonbon had never seen her look more determined. "I'm not talking about a pony."

Bonbon gasped, her eyes becoming wide. "You...you can't mean....you want to adopt that human baby! Lyra, we're ponies! As much as you like humans, I don't know if it's possible for us to raise one as our own! We're two different species, we don't even eat the same things! Humans have to eat meat to survive, do you really want to do that? What would our friends say, what would all of Ponyville say!"

"I don't care what they would say. And I don't care that we're different species, that child needs a mother, and I'm the only person in this city who is willing to be that mother. And so what if they eat meat? They can survive without it, I read an article in one of those old magazines downstairs that says that being vegetarian isn't just an option, it's healthier for them!" Lyra cupped Bonbon's cheek with her hoof. "Honey, I know that you want to stick to tradition, that you want to adopt a foal and be as normal of a family as possible. But if you had felt what I felt when our magics touched, when I comforted her and peered within her mind, you wouldn't think twice about it. Lots of families aren't all the same species. Look at Twilight and Spike; a pony and a dragon, as different as day and night. But they're happy together, and they love each other like a mother and son."

Bonbon seemed to relax, her look becoming more curious than anything else. "But, how would we do that? I mean, we'd have to go through the human government and I just don't know if they'd allow two foreigners to adopt."

Lyra smiled, knowing that she was getting through Bonbon's formidable defenses. "Don't you remember last night? Princess Luna herself said that ponies can become citizens of the Republic. They won't like two foreigners trying to adopt one of their children, but I'll bet my bottom bit they won't mind if two citizens filled out the papers."

"Citizens of the Republic? I don't know Lyra, I don't want to leave Equestria behind. It's our home, the home of our people, it's where our businesses are based and where we need to be."

"That's why we apply for dual citizenship, we can be both citizens of Equestria and the Republic! Sure, we'll have to pay a few extra taxes to the Republic each year, but think about the benefits. No foreign import tariff if you're a citizen, access to the most complete archive of information in all the world, and the absolute best medical technology in all history. That, and we get to adopt."

Bonbon sighed, rubbing her neck with a hoof. There were so many things that she couldn't plan for, things that she would have to change if they actually adopted that little girl. But seeing Lyra sitting here, her eyes sparkling with more expectant happiness than she could ever recall, and her will began to crumble. Besides, who ever really planned on becoming a family, knowing everything they needed to know about motherhood? 

"Since you are as unshakable as Canterlot Mountain," Bonbon started, a smile spreading across her mouth, "Let's go become a family." Lyra's smile glowed with so much love that it warmed her heart, and her forelegs clasped around Bonbon's neck, hugging her with all her might.


***************************************************************


Stealing Aaron for a few hours, they went down to the Undercity with him as their escort. Once in the massive underground Vault, they sought out the offices of the bureaucracy near the government offices.

A single human man worked the Bureau of Citizenship and Immigration Services, and behind his desk sat a stack of papers only a few pages high. Though pony immigrants still came in droves, he was efficient enough to deal with them in a few hours. 

"So," he said, looking up from a logbook and pushing his glasses back up his thin nose. "You wish to become naturalized citizens of the Republic of Terra. Is there any particular reason I should grant you a visa, even a temporary one, Miss...?"

"Heartstrings, sir. My partner and I want to apply for dual citizenship between Equestria and the Republic. Mainly for ease, though. I'm a musician, and I performed last night at the gala. Some of the people there liked my performance so well that they considered hiring me as a musician for their own events. So, being a citizen would allow me to pay proper taxes for my performances, and make it easier to travel from my home in Equestria to here."

At the mention of becoming taxpayers, the clerk visibly brightened. "Okay. Just sign here, and then we can move on to the civics test." He pushed a form to both mares, laying a pen down on the desk.

"Wait, civics test?" Bonbon asked, a touch of panic in her voice.

"Yes ma'am, you are required to pass a simple civics test and submit yourself for fingerprinting, or in this case hoofprinting before we can confidently assess your eligibility. I can perform that test now if you would prefer."

"Okay," Lyra said, sweating at the thought of having to take a test. Bonbon stared at her in horror, wanting to choke her for not allowing them to study up beforehand.

"Alright then," the TCIS worker pulled out a clipboard and a pen. "Question one: What are the primary colors of the Terran flag?"

That's it? Colors of the flag? This test was going to be easier than she thought! "Red and blue," she said with confidence.

"Correct. Question two: Who is the current president of the Republic?"

"Tyler McGoff," she answered with ease.

"Correct. Question three: Who is the current vice president of the Republic?"

"Edgar Smitts," she said, remembering the weasel faced man at the gala.

"Correct. Question four: How many branches are there of the Terran government?"

Lyra froze, now that was a tough one. In Equestria, there were two branches of government, the diarchy and the legislation. She had no idea how many it took to run something like a human government. But Bonbon was right, human civilization was far older than pony civilization, and they knew how to do things better. And as the old saying went, more was always better. 

"Three?" she guessed.

The clerk stared for a moment, sensing her indecision. "Correct. Question five: What are the three branches of the Terran government?"

She would have sighed with relief, but that question was even more difficult than the previous one! Lyra combed through her mind, trying to seek out a possible third branch that she hadn't heard of yet.

"Executive, legislative, and judicial," an angelic voice said beside her. Turning to Bonbon, she noticed that her wife sat rather comfortably in her seat, not showing any anxiety whatsoever.

The clerk also wore a mild facade of shock, but that quickly wore off. "Correct. Question six: What is the Constitution?"

"The body of federal law and supreme law of the land," Bonbon said calmly.

"Correct. Question seven: What is a change to the Constitution called?"

"An amendment."

The questioning continued for nearly half an hour, and Lyra's wide eyed look and jaw only got lower as Bonbon answered question after question without so much as a breath in between. The TCIS clerk read off his questions and Bonbon answered them without fail. Never once did the clerk even get the opportunity to say 'incorrect'. Finally, after thirty solid minutes of civics questions, the TCIS clerk lay down his clipboard.

"Congratulations Mrs Heartstrings, you've done something that most humans would fail at. You've passed the civics test without even a single wrong answer. Now if I could get your hoofprints, I can print you both out a temporary visa until we can get your civilian IDs mailed. Congratulations, and welcome new citizens." He extended a hand to shake, and Lyra gladly took it with her hoof.

After pressing a hoof in ink and stamping it down on paper, Lyra and Bonbon left the Immigration office, and only then could Lyra ask, "How on Celestia's green earth did you do that?!"

"Easy-peasy," Bonbon said. "Most of it was in this pamphlet I read up on when we first got here. Picked it up at the train station to learn as much as I could about the Republic. It's almost like they were making it really easy for ponies and other creatures to immigrate and become taxpaying citizens. He didn't even ask the hard questions. The rest of it I logically figured out by piecing together the other parts."

"And with these visas in tow, we can finally go and become a family! Wake up, Aaron! Take us to the hospital!" The unicorn gave a light kick to the man's leg. The boredom of waiting for them had lulled him soundly to sleep, and he woke with a grunt.

"Hospital, yeah, sure. Just for this you have to make dinner tonight."


**********************************************************


The Dean of Medicine sat behind her desk comfortably. Dr Ellen Whit wished she had a window behind her to let in some light, perhaps to open and let the fresh breeze come in, listen to birds and such. But, being the Dean of Medicine of Lazarus's government run hospital meant she had to spend most of the day several stories under bedrock. Sometimes she managed to forget what sunlight felt like, and the buzz of fluorescent lights trying to emulate it was getting on her nerves.

But today a ray of sunshine had managed to beam down through two hundred feet of rock and brighten up her day. Only a minute ago, her secretary had bustled in, saying that a young lady had come to adopt the orphan in the nursery. Happy day! The little mage girl had been in there for three weeks, and her increasing appetite was becoming a strain on their nursery resources. Besides, three quarters of the nursing staff were too superstitious or frightened of her to properly care for the little mage, so any person willing to be a loving parent would have to do for her.

Pressing the mic button on her desk she called to her secretary. "Ms Johnson, is the young lady ready to see me?"

"Yes ma'am," the secretary replied, "But we're still waiting for a member of Republic Social Services to get over here and fill out all the paperwork."

"Just go ahead and send her in." She let off the button, folding her fingers to hopefully appear less annoyed by her surroundings. "I wonder if she's fine with the baby being a mage. Who the heck knows, that might be the reason she is adopting her."

The door to her office swung open, and at first Dr Whit was certain the fluorescent lights were addling her brain, or at least damaging her eyesight so badly that she was seeing things. Because at first, she could have sworn a pair of ponies just walked in, instead of an eager young woman coming to relieve them of their charge.

Blinking several times, Dr Whit rubbed her palms on her temples to dispel this odd apparition. Peering at the young ladies again, their forms remained that of pony mares. "Are you the ones looking to adopt our orphan?"

The green unicorn nodded heartily. "That would be us."

Dr Whit pressed the button on her mic again. "Ms Johnson, what's the status on that Social Services guy?"

"No sign of him yet Dr Whit."

"Crap." She let off the mic, biting her lip before starting. "Um, have a seat please." She indicated a pair of chairs in front of her desk. Both mares glanced at each other with raised eyebrows before awkwardly clambering into them. "Now, just to be absolutely sure we are on the same page, you two are here about adopting the young girl in the maternity ward."

"Mhm, brown hair, I'm assuming brown eyes, oldest one in there. Also she has a little silver tattoo on her head of a spiral, one that produces magic."

Dr Whit groaned to herself. "It seems we are on the same page after all. Ladies, if I may call you that, I don't know how to say this, but I'm not sure that's allowed."

The expression on the unicorn's face began to fall. "W-what? What do you mean 'not allowed'? Look, we have citizenship papers and everything! See, we're Republic citizens!" The unicorn whipped out the pair of temporary ID cards, presenting them to the woman behind her desk. 

Dr Whit took the IDs, looking them over for any sign of forgery or fraud. Everything seemed to be in order, even the watermark of the phoenix showed up perfectly. "Look Mrs," she peeked down at the ID for a split second. "Heartstrings, your request is completely unprecedented. And I mean completely. In the entire history of the human race, no non-human species has ever actually made a request such as yours. Much less had the capability."

"Really?" Lyra replied, somewhat in surprise. "Well, there's a first time for everything."

"We'll see about that," the Dean of Medicine replied calmly. Just then, the social worker decided to make an appearance. The door creaked open, and a young man bustled in, briefcase handy and a smile on his pale, freckled face.

"Good afternoon ladies, I'm Alex Sanders with Republic Social Services. Sorry to interrupt your little triage here Ms Whit, but I heard someone was here to adopt the Appleton girl."

"You didn't interrupt anything Mr Sanders. Please, have a seat." She indicated another chair by the wall. Dragging it over to the desk, he popped open his briefcase and pulled out a stack of papers.

"Now, where is the woman who said she was here to adopt?" the social worker asked cheerily. "Normally, the adoption process is a very long and tedious one, but thank god for small populations making for streamlined government!"

Dr Whit shook her head, sighing before pointing to the two pony mares seated before her. 

Mr Sanders raised an eyebrow in confusion, looking at Dr Whit, then the mares, then back. "Um, them? They're the ones who made the request?"

"Mhm," Dr Whit grunted.

"But...but they're ponies! They can't adopt a human child! It would ludicrous to put something as delicate as an infant into the hooves of some animal!"

Lyra ground her teeth at all the insults being flung at her. "Excuse me sir, but I happen to be IN THE ROOM! And who says I can't adopt a human child just because I'm a pony!"

Mr Sanders scoffed, reaching into his briefcase once again. "The Terran Constitution, for one. Article Five, Section 3, "As the defense of human life and happiness is of the utmost importance to the state, any and all measures must be taken to insure its sanctity." In layman's terms, we won't give you the child because you pose a potential threat to her as a non-human animal."

"Stop calling me an animal!" Lyra growled through her clenched teeth. "I have my rights!"

"Oh yeah? What are you gonna do? Sue me? Sue the entire country? Good luck you talking freak of nature. Good luck ever getting some human to ever sign away their child to something like you. Get outta here before I call the guards." Mr Sanders chuckled under his breath, his gentle eyes cut away with malevolence. 

Lyra blanched, her eyes filling with tears. With Bonbon glaring back at the smug social worker, Lyra walked quietly out of the office, sniffling at her inability to act. And when the door shut, Dr Whit simply stared at Mr Sanders in disgust.

Alex laughed to himself. "So Ellen, it's about lunch time and I haven't eaten yet. So whaddya say you and me head upstairs for a few?"

"Get out of my office you bigoted piece of shit," Dr Whit said venomously.

"What? They're freaking horses! You know what they did to humanity. I'd trust 'em about as far as I can throw 'em."

"You have three seconds to haul your ass out of my office, or I'll get the MPs to drag your scrawny ass to the brig for trespassing!"

Mr Sanders shook his head, stuffing his papers into his briefcase. Walking out the door, he turned back for a moment. "And to think you trust those animals over other human beings. People like you are why this country is going to take a nose dive."


******************************************************************


After Mr Patterson silently led them back to the surface, Lyra bolted for their house, running upstairs and bolting the door behind her. Throwing herself onto the bed, she buried her face into the pillows and screamed. She screamed until the pillows were soggy with her tears, and her throat burning like embers.

She screamed until her lungs could take no more. And she finally fell silent, sobbing for this cruelty to her life, this horrid twist of fate that had once again left her without a chance at a family. But most of all, she screamed for the one who could not. That poor child down in the nursery who would likely grow up without a mother because people were too afraid to raise her and still too entrenched in their dislike of ponykind to allow someone like Lyra to raise her.

After what felt like hours, someone knocked at the bedroom door. "Go away!" she shrieked. "There's nopony here except for a dirty animal!"

"Lyra?" a man's voice said. "I'd like to talk to you for a few minutes."

Lyra sniffled, looking up from her pillow with bloodshot eyes. Her horn glowed with magic, and the door unlatched. Coming in quietly, her host sat on the edge of her bed. "Your wife, she told me what happened. And I can tell you this, first thing tomorrow that jerk is going to be jobless. I can make it so nobody will ever employ him as more than a fry cook."

"Don't bother," she whimpered. "It wasn't him. It wasn't the way he said it, it was what he said. After a year of trying and failing at every step, I'm finished. My one hope of being a happy mother to a happy child, and my hopes got dashed again."

"Hey, don't say that." He gently patted the mare on the neck, stroking her aquamarine fur ever so softly with his fingers, knowing the comfort it would bring her.

Lyra swallowed some of the pain of her broken heart. "Did you know? Did you know about that damn line?"

Aaron sighed. "Yeah, I knew. But I didn't know it would go this far. Lyra, when we wrote the Constitution of the Republic of Terra, we were still worrying about what we would eat the next day, whether or not we would have to sleep in a cold, cramped vault underground or whether some unknown monster would decide we were easy prey. When we wrote the Constitution, we wrote it with humanity's best interests in mind, and that was to protect ourselves from this frightening, hostile new world that we woke up in. Imagine falling asleep in your bed and waking up in the middle of the Everfree. You would be frightened, confused, wary, and trying to protect yourself as completely as possible. We want our children to be happy and healthy, and some people believe that isn't possible unless they are in human hands. For ponies, it has been almost a hundred generations since a human was last seen, but for these people the War was only a few months ago. Think about how you feel about changelings. Would you tolerate one just barging into Ponyville, acting like the whole Canterlot thing never happened, and then let it try to take a pony foal and raise it as its own?"

The mare sniffled, wiping her eye with a hoof. "I guess that makes sense. I guess I just overreacted...and that I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up in the first place."

Dr Patterson frowned, shaking his head. "I wouldn't say that. Um, I kinda have a little get together at the gazebo I've got to be at. I'm going to be teaching some people some magic, and I might need a unicorn to help me out. Wanna come?"

"No thanks," she whispered. "I'm just going to go get a few drinks and go to bed." 

Aaron felt the greatest concern for Lyra. Bonbon had filled him in on what had happened over the winter, even her darker moments. And he didn't want that on his conscience. "Just...be back by ten. And take it easy."

Rising from the bed, Lyra meandered out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Grabbing a saddlebag and some money, she left for the market. Trotting past the homes of the Lazarus suburbs, she couldn't help but peek into a few windows in the fading daylight. Most homes were empty at this hour, but a select few had something more than just one or two tenants inside. 

As she neared the markets, she gazed into one lit window, seeing something that brought wistful tears to her eyes. A woman,  feeding her baby some kind of baby food. The little child bounced in his high chair, dribbling the applesauce down his chin. And the woman, she couldn't look happier as she gently wiped her son's chubby pink face.

Lyra sighed, tearing herself away from the heartwarming scene. Pacing down the street, she looked up at the well lit windows and full crowd at Abraham's Pub, a place that served humans exclusively. Sighing again, she passed it by. Taking a corner onto the street where all the pony storefronts lay, she saw the much less illustrious bar that welcomed all patrons. A ragged sign hung over the door, advertising that all were welcome at The Watering Hole.

Pushing the door open, Lyra got a good look at The Watering Hole. It was dark inside, only a few lanterns hanging from the ceiling. The floor was covered in sawdust, and several mismatched tables and chairs dotted the bar. The bar itself looked rather shabby, and was made from several planks magically fused together. The patrons were quiet, nobody talked nor even lifted their heads when Lyra walked in. Most of the patrons were ponies like her, a smattering of each breed just stared down at the bottom of their glasses, looking for something to brighten up their day. The others were creatures she normally wouldn't associate with being in a building like this. An entire pack of diamond dogs took up most of one corner, their normally loud voices silent. Their coats were covered in soot, and some lay with their heads on the table, utterly exhausted from a long day in the steel mill. Even a pair of gryphons clutched untouched mugs of ale in their talons.

Walking over to the bar, Lyra took an open seat between an earth pony and a pegasus mare. The barkeep walked over, levitating a glass and a bar rag in his aura. "What can I get ya, miss?"

"Just a beer please," she said in barely a whisper.

The barkeep poured her a glass from the tap, sliding it over to her. Taking a sip, she noticed it was warm, and tasted almost watered down. "So, rough day?" the barkeep asked, cleaning a glass.

"You could say that."

"Ah, you came to the right place then. Most everypony here has it pretty rough nowadays."

"I don't see how it could get much worse than my day," Lyra murmured.

The pegasus mare beside her sighed. "I was an actress back in Equestria, a true savant of the dramatic art. When I heard about this place, and all the great plays they had written so long ago, I knew I had to be a part of that. So, I moved here with my coltfriend and started looking into some of the plays that they were performing. Shakespeare in the Park, that's what they call it. And I saw one of their plays, and though it had some of the worst scenery and costumes I had ever seen, I was entranced by it. So, I tried out for one of their plays called 'Romeo and Juliet'. I read the lines and put in enough emotion to make a minotaur weep. But....they laughed me off stage. The director said he wouldn't cast a mare in a woman's role. They said it would be sick for Romeo to kiss a pony."

The earth pony stallion on her other side snorted, taking a small swig of his beer. "Hmph, you think you got it rough, sister? Try building houses for ten months straight while still having to live in a shanty with six other stallions. They don't pay us like they should. In fact, sometimes they just pay us for the cost of materials. Even if we do get paid, it's always some human architect that gets the praise for 'building an entire city'."

"Ponies think they have it rough," a gruff voice said from the corner. One of the diamond dogs lurched from his seat, bringing his empty mug over to the bar for a refill. "Diamond dogs work sixteen hour days. We come before sun rises, work in mill with only one break for lunch, then work until after dark. Human foremen always say, "Diamond dogs have more endurance, you're stronger than us." We think they're full of it."

The barkeep refilled the dog's glass, glancing down at Lyra again. "So, what's your story?"

Lyra sighed before she started, knowing that her story would pale to the true struggles these people had endured. "For months I've been trying to conceive. And a couple of months ago I learned I was sterile, and that the only option I had left was to adopt. But before I made my decision, I came here to play my harp at yesterday's gala. But I paid for a tour the day before that, and we went down to the Undercity and went through the hospital. And there, I saw this little girl. A sweet, innocent, charming little baby girl that had been orphaned. And I fell in love with her. So today, my partner and I went back, and we tried to adopt her. They told me that it was against their Constitution, that they had the right to deny me because they were protecting human life by doing it."

Lyra started as she felt wing feathers drape across her right shoulder, the pegasus mare laying it there comfortably. 

"That's so tragic. That's play worthy material right there, award winning tragic."

The earth pony nodded to her as well. "Little sister, I can take living with a bunch of stallions in a cramped one room house, but even I wouldn't be able to bear the thought of not havin' my family."

Lyra ground her teeth. Something about hearing so much of this hopelessness and despair coming from these poor creatures while the humans lived comfortably ignited that familiar flame in her belly. "You know what, I'm sick of this! Ever since I learned about humans when I was a filly, I always thought they were wise and benevolent people. But they're just bullies! Ever since I came to this city, all the humans have told me was what I couldn't do! Why hasn't anypony stood up and said 'I'll do what I want, because I am free!' We built this city for them! We grow the crops so they don't starve! Our generosity lets them play at opulence when they should be desperately scratching at the dirt! And what do they give us? Nothing! They let us become citizens so we can pay them more money, that's it!"

The barkeep set down his glass, a stern and angered look in his eye. "You're right! The humans had a city election a few months ago, and they didn't let us vote! They said we didn't have the right knowledge to make an informed decision, so they just left us out! I came to Terra because I heard about their democracy, and how it was supposed to be fair for everypony!"

Lyra dropped a few bits on the bar, dropping out of her stool with a determined look on her face and a stomp in her walk. "Where you goin'?"

"To make a difference! I'm a citizen of this country, and I'm going to prove to the world that we creatures deserve just as many rights as the humans!"


************************************************************


Holy, feckin, shite. That was a doozy. Even longer than the last chapter. Sorry about the huge delay for this one folks, there were so many things I wanted to put in this chapter, and so many things had to be left out! Grades haven't really gone up at all, and I blame Pinkie Pie for it with her weird G3 face. Anyways, enjoy this latest installment.
> Petition 
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lyra walked with rage in her eyes. The red haze of something akin to bloodlust burned her vision, obscuring everything except her goal: justice for the injustice done unto her. 

"They've all been nothing but jerks!" she murmured angrily. "Well now it's the pony's turn to show them up! What do I need to do to show them that ponies aren't animals!" 

She stormed down the nighttime streets of the market, snorting pure steam from her nostrils and grinding her teeth in determination. Her hoof struck a can on the street, a stray piece of litter likely left by some pedestrian that afternoon. With such passionate anger threatening to boil over, Lyra took out her rage on the can. Kicking it as hard as she could, she watched it fly down the street, landing in a dark alleyway with a clatter.

"We're people!" she ranted to the empty, dimly lit street. "People with ideas, people with feelings, people who want to bucking help you, and you guys treat us like criminals!" 

Her chest heaved with angered breath, and Lyra wanted nothing more than to strike down the first human that came in her path. Looking around for something else to destroy, she caught her reflection in the window of a closed shop. The pony that stared back at her had bloodshot red eyes, furiously bared teeth, and flecks of saliva all across her mouth. That face would have made a child cry for its mother, and make people lock their doors in fear. Lyra sat down on the sidewalk, her anger subsiding at the sight of the feral beast in that window. 

"Who am I kidding?" she said to her reflection. "I am an animal.... at least I am here. Bonbon and Aaron were right, it's their city and their rules. Who am I bad mouth them? I'm...I'm just some animal. What was I thinking, trying to adopt a human child?"

Lyra stood from her seat, head hung low and her spirit close to being defeated. "Look what ponies did to them. We attacked them and destroyed their civilization, their culture. We slaughtered their friends and their families, I should be surprised that they even let me inside their borders. Maybe I deserve this for.....for being a pony. Maybe we're the jerks, coming here and expecting the same things now that they earned over centuries." 

And as she walked down the lonesome street, she came to the one place she knew she could never go. Abraham's Pub had become almost completely deserted, the tired and drunken men having stumbled away to their homes for the night. But the inside of the bar was not her concern right now. The sign swinging above the door creaked in the breeze, and Lyra sat down on the sidewalk, just staring at the painted picture of the bearded, warty man's face. The man whose name they all said with a certain reverence and respect. A man called Lincoln.

"Aaron says that you were one of the greatest leaders of mankind. That even two thousand years after your death, your name is a synonym for freedom and doing what is right. No matter the cost. You freed millions because you knew it was right, that freedom was something that everyone was entitled to. But freedom isn't free, it has to be fought for, it has to be earned. I can't fight for my freedom, because fighting back would just make them right. What would you do Abraham? What would you do in my place?"

The sign of the pub did not answer, its sway in the breeze reminding her of the slightest shake of the man's head. 

"I guess you don't have an answer for me either. I'm sorry to have hurt your legacy. I'm sorry for being an animal to your descendants. For being who I am." Lyra stood from the curb, walking very dejectedly back to the house in the residential district.

Several minutes later, she opened the door, quietly closing it behind her. Bonbon looked up from a book she had been lightly reading on the couch, dread seeming to pour from her very heart. "There you are! I've been worried sick, are you all right?"

Lyra barely looked up from the floor as she walked up the stairs. "I'm fine," she said in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Lyra?" Bonbon said, watching with concern as the unicorn went wordlessly upstairs. "Sweetie?" 

Bonbon slid off the couch, heading upstairs and into the bedroom. "Hon? Do you want to talk about it?"

The lump under the covers sighed, and Bonbon's heart threatened to just tear in half. Her beloved lay here on the verge of the emotional precipice like she had been so many times over the last year. To see such a once happy go lucky mare beaten and dragged down to this kind of low made Bonbon want to weep. Climbing into bed with Lyra, she hugged the other mare to her body, just trying to bring her some kind of comfort. 

"Lyra, please," she whispered into the unicorn's ear. "Please, just let me help you. I hate seeing you like this, I hate seeing you suffer and beating yourself up for something that was beyond your control. I love you, and I don't like this distance that you put between us when you become like this. Please Lyra, please just talk to me. Where's the mare I fell in love with? Where's that bold, hardy, outspoken Lyra that kissed me under the lightpole in Canterlot?"

"All my life I've been fighting," Lyra finally whispered back. "I've fought ideals, I've fought hardship and hatred. I fought the very idea that ponies were the greatest race on Earth. But I can't fight this, not without hurting the creatures I dedicated my life to. At every point, I've been nothing but a burden to the humans. The best thing I can do for the humans is to just leave them alone."

And with Bonbon cradling her form, the gentle warmth of their love soon encompassed them, lulling them to sleep.


*************************************************************


There he sat, in his professional business suit and tie. A short crop of red hair adorned his freckled head, and the Terran Social Worker loomed huge over the pitiful and childlike form of Lyra. With each second he grew to greater heights, towering even farther over her.

"Yeah, you're just a worthless animal, that's what you are! You think you can just waltz into our lives and demand to be equal? You took our lives, you destroyed our nations and our society, and now you want to take our children too!"

"But-but," the puny form of Lyra tried to say. "I-I just wanted to help. Nopony here wants to raise her. I want to raise her!"

"As some kind of a pony? Now you're trying to kill our way of life! What kind of a sick monster are you!"

Lyra whimpered, curling into a tiny ball on the floor. "I just wanted to be happy," she cried.

"What's more important?" a more kindly voice asked her. Lyra looked up from the floor, seeing Mr Patterson take the place of the mean and bigoted social worker. "Is your happiness more important than the future of an entire species? We wrote our laws to ensure our survival and our happiness. Without them, we could fall back to the suffering we inflicted on each other before the War. Without our right to protect our species, we could be gone within a few generations. I worked to save my species, not to delay our extinction."

"Why can't they be the same thing?" she asked. "Why can't humanity be safe and happy and still make other races happy too?"

"Because it is dangerous!" a deep voice boomed. The image of Mr Patterson wavered, forming into a titanic, flat sheet that rose into the sky. Coated in a waterfall of words and signatures, the gargantuan document bent over, looming greatly over Lyra. "The Supreme Law of the Land is immutable!" the monstrous personified Constitution yelled. "Who are you to question the unquestionable word of the Law?"

Lyra stood shakily, laying back her ears and trying to hold her ground. "I'm...I'm Lyra Heartstrings." Something stirred inside of her, that trusted fire of passion that lit whenever she needed her courage. "I'm a citizen of Terra! I'm a musician! I'm a wife to a loving mare. I've explored the world! I've met some of the most important people on the planet! And most importantly, I AM A PERSON! I WANT TO BE TREATED LIKE ONE!" she shouted to the Law.

The Constitution of the Republic of Terra shuddered, crumpling down to the ground. Laying flat, the document encompassed her entire world. The words distended, melting into shapes and colors that settled into a desk, chairs, file cabinets, and a very despicable man now at his normal size.

Mr Sanders sneered at her, sitting in his seat as he shoved his papers back in his briefcase. "Oh yeah? What are you gonna do? Sue me? Sue the entire country? Good luck you talking freak of nature."

His words rang over and over again, becoming clearer each time they reached her ears.

"Oh yeah? What are you gonna do? Sue me? Sue the entire country? Good luck you talking freak of nature."

"Oh yeah? What are you gonna do? Sue me? Sue the entire country?"

"What are you gonna do? Sue me? Sue the entire country?"

"Sue me? Sue the entire country?"

"Sue the entire country?"

"Sue the entire country?"

"Sue the entire country?"

Lyra awoke with a start, panting as though she had just outrun some fiendish monster. Wiping the terrified sweat from her brow, she looked outside the window for a second. Still dark, not even the slightest hints of pink on the eastern horizon. 

Grabbing a scrap of paper and a pencil from the nightstand, she scribbled down the last words from her dream before she forgot them. Looking at them with discerning eyes, a slight smile cracked on her lips. "That's it. That's how I can fight back. I'll use what rights I have to fight for the rights I don't have."

She had a plan, a simple plan that had been right in her face all day yesterday. Tomorrow, she was going to find out how to do it, and then she would bring her fight to the justice system of the Republic.


***************************************************************


Once again with her borrowed human in tow, Lyra stormed to the Undercity lift in the suburbs. "Undercity please!" she said to the lift worker. Her eyes burned with determination, and without even questioning her about her human escort, the lift worker punched in the codes.

The ride was short, but to Lyra, it felt like hours. With her blood rushing and her mind dead set on justice, she tapped her hooves impatiently, and bolted out of the gate before the lift came to a proper stop.Practically running through the halls of the Undercity, she made a beeline for the government offices. 

Flying down one particular hall, she stopped at an information desk. "Where can I find the judicial offices?" she barked to the clerk. Surprised by her sudden appearance and very curt question, the clerk carefully pointed down to a door at the end of the hall. "Thank you," Lyra replied, trotting down the hall.

"Lyra, wait up for a minute!" Aaron shouted. The mare didn't stop, but she slowed to let him catch up. Jogging to her side, he panted as he tried to catch his breath. "What has gotten into you? Where are you even going?"

"You'll see," she said softly. The tone of that sentence made Aaron cringe, like Lyra was some kind of a criminal with her mark nearby. Knocking on the door to the office, she waited for a moment. 

"Come in," a voice said softly. Barging through the door, she beheld a gentleman sitting at his desk, filling out some kind of form. Noticing his guest, he slipped it into a file. "Can I help you ma'am?"

"Yeah, I'd like to file a petition." Straight to the point, none of this finagling and jumping through hoops that humans seemed to adorn their government with so much. Sitting in a chair at his desk, Lyra made herself into dead weight, a sign that she wasn't going anywhere until she got her request.

"A petition for...?" he asked curiously.

"I'd like to sue the Republic for the right to adopt a human child."

Both Aaron's and the judicial clerk's went bone white. The clerk swallowed the lump in his throat, reaching for a dusty stack of papers. "Can I see your Republic ID?"

She whipped it out, slapping it down on the desk. The clerk picked it up, scrutinizing it for any signs of fraud or forgery.

Mr Patterson grabbed her shoulder with a iron grip, forcefully pulling her closer. "What the fuck are you doing?!" he hissed to her ear. "Just think about what you're doing here for a minute, think about how generous we've been before you go down this path!"

She shoved him off, staring him right in the eye with a look that petrified. "Don't patronize me. Never, EVER talk to me like I'm some kind of a child or an animal. And I'm going to make sure that nopony else is treated that way here either."

"Just because you're pissed off doesn't mean you should take it out on us. Lyra, please, think about this before you jump off the deep end!"

"I have my rights, and don't you try to tell me that I don't!"

Aaron shook his head, groaning. He knew she was actually going through with this, and nothing he could do would stop her. "I'm not trying to tell you that you don't have rights. I'm trying to tell you that what you're doing is dangerous! You have no idea what you're getting into!"

The clerk interrupted their little chat, laying Lyra's ID back on the desk. "Everything seems to be in order. I'll have your writ of certiorari form in a moment."

The clerk rose from the desk, walking out the door. "Writ of what?" 

"Writ of certiorari, a petition saying you want to challenge a predetermined law," Aaron replied, a hand to his face in shame. 

Lyra grinned smugly, sitting more comfortably in her chair. "Don't worry about it, with my story I'll have the jury weeping with sympathy and on my side in a day."

"There won't be a jury."

Lyra froze in place, her heart sinking to a cold depth. "W-what?! No jury?!" Her entire hasty plan of action had been based on the simply idea that if she shed enough tears in court, the jury might find sympathy with her.

"No, there won't be a jury at all. You've challenged my government on one of their most basic laws, your appeal will go straight to the highest court in the land! Your case goes straight to the Supreme Court! There's no sob story sympathy, no hoping the judge will go easy on you!"

She hadn't expected that at all. In Equestria, the laws were fair enough to never really be questioned by the people. And when a law seemed outdated or unfair, the diarchy would exert their power and dissolve it or push for an alteration of that law in the legislation. She hadn't accounted for the fact that things would be radically different when there was an entire branch of government dedicated to enforcing the written law.

Setting herself firm, Lyra held strong. "I'm still going to do it."

Aaron slumped over in his chair, absolutely despairing at the horrendous implications that he couldn't seem to make clear to Lyra. "If you do this, I'm not going to help you. As far as I'm concerned, you're just going to be a warm body in my house. In fact, if it weren't for Bonbon I might just kick you out!"

"Why are you so against this?!" she demanded to know. "I want to make myself happy, I want to make the life of that child better and to make her happy! What is this going to do, huh? Make a few conservatives uncomfortable?"

"Disrupt the social balance! Politics have always been a catalyst to disaster, and nothing is more political than questioning the law!" He held his hands together, glowing with magic. Spreading them apart, a silvery magic screen floated in his grasp. A stream of magic filtered from his head and into the magic screen. Black and white images began to flicker, scenes of men standing together, getting beaten down by law enforcement as they tried to stage a peaceful protest. Water cannons knocked down entire crowds, vicious dogs strained on their leashes, snapping at any person who came too close.

"That was a little scene from the 1960's. Six hundred people ended up in prison, dozens had to get medical help, all from one day of peaceful protests against the laws back then. For thirteen years the very fabric of the social order threatened to tear apart and these things happened on a weekly basis! While I admit that it was ultimately one of the best things to happen, Terra is too vulnerable, too weak to handle something of that caliber! And it all can come from such a tiny little catalyst. Back then, it was because one old woman refused to give up her seat on the bus. But you want to go ahead and just sue the entire government. Lyra, what you're doing is a recipe for instability and political unrest. Please, for the love of this nation, for the love of my people, don't fill out that writ. I'll be perfectly happy the day that civil rights are extended to every citizen, but we are too unstable right now."

Lyra stared blankly at the human, then slowly shook her head. "I'm making a commitment to this. Besides, humans are a strong and proud species with a rich history, you can handle it. I was led to believe that you guys were all grown up since the War ended."

Aaron sighed. "God, what did I do to deserve this? And for once don't you dare actually answer."

The clerk bustled back in with a small stack of papers, laying them on the desk for Lyra. "If you'll just fill out these forms, we can process your petition."

With a pen levitated in her magic, Lyra began scribbling it down. And across the cosmos, a very powerful watcher began to take notice, taking note of this potentially interesting turn of events.


***********************************************************


Aaron flopped down on his couch, sending a tendril of magic into the kitchen to retrieve a glass and a decanter of some cheap whiskey. Setting them down on the rough coffee table, he poured himself a quarter glass and drained it. 

Lyra walked proudly into the living room, taking one of the chairs by the hearth. "One for me?" she asked.

"No. Ponies that threaten to disrupt the social balance and tear apart all my hard work don't get any free booze." He slugged down another gulp of harsh gryphon whiskey, leaning back in his couch and staring at the ceiling.

The mare stared at him from across the den, and a sense of worry trickled into her mind. A question that had to be asked formed on the tip of her tongue. "Are you a racist?" she blurted out.

Aaron looked up with angry fire in his eyes. "You know just what to say to piss people off, don't you? Of course I'm not a racist! I live with ponies, I work exclusively with ponies, most of my best friends are ponies! Why the hell would label me, your gracious host, a racist!"

"I didn't mean that as an offense. But you do seem to be really happy seeing ponies subjugated and denied their rights here in the Republic. I mean, you're almost going out of your way to keep me from acting out."

"I'm doing this for the good of my people," he retorted. "I have literally died to save them, and I'll gladly die again just to make sure they stay safe and happy. And if it means that some creatures don't get the right to vote or make a family or get paid the same as us then....then so be it."

She scrutinized him from across the room, seeing how he faltered. "You don't like it either, do you?"

He shook his head, taking a sip of his whiskey. "Someone very close to me doesn't like it, and sometimes her feelings and emotions drift over into me. Sometimes I'll wake up in the middle of the night on the verge of crying because she is having horrible flashbacks to some war or genocide. Sometimes I'll get giddy in the middle of an important meeting. Sometimes symbiosis is a real bitch." He swirled around the last of the whiskey in his glass, staring at the amber liquid as it sloshed around. "Alcohol helps, I get drunk and she gets a little drunk. Knife cuts both ways." 

Draining down the last of it, he slammed his glass down on the coffee table. "If you were born, say, fifty years from now, when the human race had reestablished themselves enough to where we were comfortable in the world again, I would support you in full. We would be stable, we would be more accepting and tolerant of pony and other creature society. Who knows, we might even have fully integrated communities by then. That would be the time to make such a request, when the generation born now, with ponies as friends and neighbors, is all grown up."

Lyra suddenly understood his position a little more, and she nodded slightly. "So, what you're saying is that the relationship between our species isn't mature enough yet to handle something like this."

He didn't say anything, and the human just leaned back into the cushions of the couch and stared off into space. But something about the way he just sat there told Lyra he didn't want to accomplish anything at all, that he wasn't even doing his odd mind to mind talk with the spirits. 

"Are you alright?" she asked. 

"I am, but you won't be in a few seconds." He looked over at a clock on the mantle, counting out loud. "Four, three, two..."

"What? What do you-"

The front door burst open, a certain custard earth pony panting and looking around with bloodshot eyes. Bonbon looked terrible, her mane was unkempt, her tight blue and pink curls coming apart and splitting. Her coat looked like she hadn't even bathed this morning, and a little dirt was caked in the soles of her hooves. "Lyra! I've been looking for you all morning! I was so worried after last night, and-and I searched all over the city! At least where I could, that is. Are you alright? Where did you go?"

"Yes Lyra, why don't you regale us with what you did this morning?" Aaron said coldly.

She suddenly felt very vulnerable, and remorse for going straight to the courts froze her in her seat. "Um, Bonnie, it would be best if you sat down for this."

"Why? Did you do something bad?" Bonbon asked, taking a spot in the loveseat next to Lyra.

"Legally no, but morally...maybe. Bonbon, today Mr Patterson and I went down to the Undercity again...and I sort of..." She couldn't do it, the words just caught in her throat at the thought of betraying Bonbon like this. 

"Just say it Lyra," her wife said, her voice edged with worry.

Lyra sighed, looking her straight in the eye and held her wife's hoof. "I...I...I filed to sue the Republic. I filled out a writ and they're processing it right now. I'm going to court for our right to adopt."

Bonbon dropped her hoof, a look of pure horror on her face. "You...you unbelievable, selfish jerk! You didn't even talk to me about this! I don't care that you did something that everypony would expect from you, but you didn't even leave me a bucking note! I thought we were partners, I thought that everything we did, we did for each other and with each other! And here you run off behind my back and do...THAT! I...I don't know if I can handle it anymore. I can handle you being the weirdest mare that anypony knows, I can handle your obsessions, I can handle your emotional highs and lows. But I can't handle your dishonesty and your selfishness! You don't even want to adopt a child and be a happy family, you just want to be right! Did you ever even stop for one second to think about me! To think about what I want!"

Bonbon slid off the couch, storming out of the den and upstairs to the bedroom. The thunderous slam of the door made Aaron wince, but not Lyra. She sat on the couch, staring at the space where Bonbon had been only seconds ago. A tear slid down her cheek, but she bit it back. She knew she deserved this, that she had betrayed her best friend and wife just so she could get what she wanted.

She vaguely heard the clink of the decanter and the splash of whiskey into a glass. Looking over to Aaron, she saw him slide a glass across the coffee table towards her. 

Lyra grabbed it in her hooves, not even bothering to use magic. Slurping down the burning gryphon distillate, she barely held down her own self loathing. "I bucked up again. I royally bucked up this time."

Aaron placed his glass aside, grabbing a jacket magically from the hatrack by the door. "I've...got a little date tonight, so I won't be back until late. There's food in the pantry, and if you want something hot there's some money in the top drawer of my desk."

Grabbing a hat from the stand, he turned to walk out the front door. But he stopped, leaning back into the den. "You know, all hope isn't lost. The Supreme Court gets dozens, if not hundreds of petitions. Historically they only take on about one in twelve. So your odds are pretty good that you can just forget that this ever happened."

Aaron left the house, the door heavily closing behind him. Lyra leaned back in the couch, levitating the entire decanter of whiskey and taking a huge gulp. Of all the things she wanted in the world, her desire to be a mom was only rivaled by her hope that they would just throw this one out.


*********************************************************


The Clerk to the Judicial Branch ran down the hallways of the Undercity, dodging people heading either back to the surface or back to their apartments down here for the night. But not him, he had a most important message to deliver. 

Jabbing a finger under his collar, he loosened his tie enough to breathe and wiped the forming beads of sweat off his face. Huffing and puffing down the hallway, he seriously wondered if he should go to the gym more often, or even the surface to get some fresh air. Screeching around a corner, he barely dodged a pair of soldiers getting off guard duty. 

"Hey watch it civie!" one grunt growled

"Pardon me!" he shouted back. Checking the manila folder in his hands for any damage, he continued at a dead sprint down the halls. Finally, after several minutes of searching all the obscure and out of the way offices in the deepest halls of the Undercity, he finally found it. 

Stopping for a moment to catch his breath and straighten his tie, he knocked on the clouded glass window of the door. He waited for a moment, seeing the fresh black letters painted on the window. 

"Come in," a voice said vaguely. Entering as civilly as he could, the Clerk stepped inside and beheld the office of the Chief Justice. A neat and ordered desk complimented several bookshelves crammed full of replica law books. Several decent and dignified photographs dating from before the War sat facing a rather severe looking woman behind her desk. 

"Your Honor," the Clerk started, still trying to catch some simile of his breath back.

The name plate on her desk denoted her as Chief Justice Abigail Haliburton. Sitting very stiffly in her office chair, the woman was seen by some as the embodiment of the stern, cold judgement of law. Streaks of early grey ran through her once shining brown hair, hair that she always kept trapped in a bun. She steepled her thin fingers, pursing her lips very tightly while she waited for the Clerk to regain some decency and civility. 

"Are you better yet?" she asked coldly. The Clerk nodded, stiffening his backbone and fixing his posture before her disapproving stare. "Then what is the reason for this little visit only one minute and thirty eight seconds before the Justice offices close? I'm a very busy woman, and you are wasting the last seconds of my precious time." A rather bold faced statement, coming from someone whose job it was to represent a branch of the government that had so far seen almost no use.

"Your Honor, we have a petition! Someone filed a writ of certiorari this morning." He presented the folder to Chief Justice Haliburton. She took it in her lithe fingers, snapping the seal and pulling out Lyra's writ. Placing on a pair of low reading glasses, she scanned the form.

Glancing back up at the Clerk, her face bore no expression. "Is this a joke? This writ says that the petitioner is a pony. It's even signed with an obviously pony name."

The Justice Clerk cringed a little from her hard tone, the sweat starting to form on his face again. "It's no joke, your Honor. She came in this morning and filed it, providing solid evidence of her citizenship and her desire to make a petition."

Chief Justice Hailburton scanned the document once more, seeing nothing out of place in this petition to challenge Terran Constitutional law. Setting it down, she sighed. "I want you to go find all the other Justices and tell them we have a case to debate. And put on a pot of coffee, it's going to be a while before they all get here."

"You want the other eight Justices right now?! But your Honor, it's almost eight thirty! Most of them are at home by now."

Chief Justice Hailburton didn't waver, rather she waved him on. "Then get the message out, we're going to convene first thing in the morning."

"Your Honor, this is against the tenets of the Court. The Justices aren't supposed to convene for another five months to consider any cases."

Chief Justice Haliburton read over the signature on the petition once again, feeling the significance of this case. "We'll make an exception here. How many more cases do you see falling into our laps in five months when this is the first one in a year? Now get to it. Maybe recruit a few couriers to get the message out."

The Clerk groaned at having to run all over both the Undercity and the surface. And as he ran out of the offices, wondering if he could recruit a few night shift workers to help him out, he suddenly remembered that Justice Nakamura lived on a small soybean farm five miles outside of Lazarus. Thank God none of the Justices had gotten too bad of a wanderlust and moved out to one of the several farm towns springing up around the border.

"Right, get a message out to the Justices at nine o'clock at night. Wonder if I'll even make it home before sunrise." Bolting down the hallway at break neck speeds, he left Chief Justice Haliburton on her own once again.

Taking a deep breath, Abigail regarded the petition with some scrutiny. Exactly one year after the establishment of the Republic of Terra, and now the ponies decided they weren't so pleased with how they ran things. The first case to be considered before the Justices of the Supreme Court, and it was from a pony. Not even the extremely few convicted criminals in the city had bothered to send their appeals as high as the Supreme Court, and so that entire branch of government had simply existed as a precaution. Just so the legislation and the President would have them handy when the time actually came for when they needed the law interpreted. And now, a year after their institution, their first petition wasn't from a human at all.

Ponies. A frivolous and far too self entitled race in her opinion. They came from a land where good fortune and easy living literally fell from the sky, and now they wanted to complain because life here was hard. Well, she thought, time to wake up and smell the coffee. This is a human country, and all your self entitlement was taken away the second you crossed that border. And when you said you wanted to be a part of our society, you agreed to be the cogs that we needed you to be in the machine. 

And this case, this petition to change the Constitution of the Republic of Terra, it might be the little fix that the Republic needed to get all the cogs spinning in their rightful place. And who knew? Maybe it would finally prove to the other branches of government that the judiciary was just as important as the legislation, if not more so. For who was to keep Lazarus a human city other than they who dictated the law?


**************************************************************


Dawn crept over the hills and farms of the small nation of Man, and those who had been chosen to decide the nature of the Law convened for the first time since the ratification of the last constitutional amendment. Nine men and women of various backgrounds and creeds crammed themselves into a tiny conference room. Chairs had to be dragged out from other offices, and the planning committee for waste management had been kicked out of the conference room they normally used for the duration of this deliberation. 

Half of the room nursed a cup of coffee, the other half tried hard to refrain from falling asleep on the desk. The only one wide awake was Chief Justice Haliburton, and she was far from chipper and cheery.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Supreme Court, I call to order this convention of the Justices. Clerk, if you will take roll."

The judiciary clerk from the night before snapped to, pulling out a sheet of paper. Even if he had been up all night running down some dirt road to wake up a Justice at two in the morning, he still had work to do. "Justice George Nakamura?"

"Present," a man of Asian descent replied, a fist propped into his cheek to keep him from falling to the table in weariness. 

"Justice Clare Watson?"

"Present."

"Justice Darryl Brockman?"

"Here."

"Justice Javier Marcos?"

"Present."

Justice Christopher Dailey?"

"Here."

"Justice Nora Lanning?"

"Here."

"Justice Glenn Rutherford?" A few moments passed, and no response came. "Justice Rutherford?" the Clerk repeated. He stared straight at the hefty man in the corner, who by all appearances was awake. Justice Dailey shoved him on the shoulder, and Justice Rutherford's head lolled onto his chest, snoring slightly. 

"Damn it," Haliburton muttered. "GLENN!" she shouted scathingly.

Justice Rutherford nearly leaped out of his seat, and he looked around wildly for the source of his interruption. Catching the glares of his peers, he sheepishly said, "Oh, um, present."

The Clerk cleared his throat, marking down the presence of the Justice. "Justice Barbara Sikes?"

"Present," a lady with the look of a Southern debutante replied.

"And Chief Justice Abigail Haliburton?"

"Present," the Chief Justice said. "Thank you, Mr Wozniak. Now, ladies and gentlemen you may all be questioning why I have summoned you here at this hour and with such urgency. No, the Republic is not going through a radical regime change and we are not here to approve the Constitutionality of a sudden life or death amendment."

"Then what are we here for Abby?" Justice Rutherford asked, wishing he was back in his specially pony-crafted feather bed. "If there's nothing worth convening for, why did you have us convene?"

Chief Justice Haliburton gave him an emotionless stare, reaching down to the folder in her briefcase. Tossing it out in front of  Justice Rutherford, she neatly folded her fingers, letting the file speak for itself.

Justice Rutherford grumbled as he grabbed the file off the table, skimming through it. Looking back up at Haliburton, he looked more confused than anything. "This is a writ," he stated. "Why are you having us convene to consider a writ in June? By tradition we're supposed to convene in October."

"Glad to see your eyes haven't gone yet, Glenn. Yes, it is a writ of certiorari. And yes, it is highly unorthodox to convene the Justices to consider a case months before the traditionally allocated time. But I have chosen to bend the rules for this one. Ladies and gentlemen, our Constitution has been challenged, and we must decide how we will answer that challenge."

Justice Brockman slipped on his reading glasses, bending over to decipher the cursive script of the writ. "It says a pony was denied the right to adopt an orphaned human child based on her species and nothing else, and that she is suing for the right to adopt without harassment. Also says that she was denied based on a clause of the Constitution, read to her by a low level worker from Terran Social Services. I'd say that is a direct challenge to the Guardian Clause. Abigail's right, this is big news." 

He slid the file over to Justice Marcos. Flipping through the file, Justice Marcos took his time, nodding to himself slightly. "Well, it all appears to be sound. A citizen of the Republic feels she was wronged by a law of the Republic. Tradition dictates that we consider this further."

Chief Justice Haliburton folded her fingers as Justice Marcos passed the file along to Justice Sikes. "And it appears your "yea" is guaranteed, Javier. And why exactly do you feel we should pursue this case?"

Javier shrugged. "I don't know, why did you call us all down here to consider it in the first place? It has potential to radically change Terran law, for better or for worse. And it's our job to decide whether this even sees the light of day. I mean, even you must think this is important enough to warrant a breach of our traditional boundaries."

Haliburton nodded. "Well said, Justice. Justice Sikes, what do you think? What strikes you about this writ?"

Justice Sikes barely skimmed through the material, her gaze looking rather bored. "Well, I say that we should just toss it in the bin."

The Chief Justice raised an eyebrow, the most show of any emotion that she had done all morning. "And why would you say that? The petitioner is a registered, taxpaying citizen of the Republic that believes she has been wronged by the government, and yet you say we should just turn the other cheek."

Justice Sikes puffed herself up like a brooding hen, an indelible and very ladylike smile on her face. "This is all some very maladroit ruse to break humanity up again. Those ponies have no sense of proper decency, living in those squalid little hovels down at the bad end of town. Think for a moment about one of our precious children being raised by a farmyard animal like a pony! The very thought of it just makes feel like fainting!" Quite the drama queen, Justice Sikes. Her melodramatic mood had of course been far more useful in her days as a debutante, but it sufficed to sway people over to her side in a debate.

Justice Lanning rolled her eyes, looking up from the file and the petition. "If you could maintain your composure for at least a minute, I would like to discuss this in a more serious manner, Barbara. If you may consider the fact that this pony has not made a normally expected petition, like a challenge to the separation of church and state or even the right to use our medical facilities. No, she has gone straight through the system, all the way up to the greatest demand one can make, the absolute right to raise one of our young as her own. The petitioner has not allowed us to wean our distrust off of her kind, yet here she boldly demands the right to adopt." Nora took of her reading glasses, setting them down on the table and sliding the petition to the next Justice. "I'm with Javier on this one, it has merits, and we really should give this one a chance. I vote "yea"."

Chief Justice Haliburton nodded, tallying down Justice Lanning's vote to proceed. "Very well, that chalks up to two definite "yea"'s and one "nay". Justice Brockman, what say you?"

Justice Brockman ran a dusky hand over his short hair, then after a moment of thinking, he nodded. "I vote "yea". This is a question of civil rights, and civil rights are something that should always be accounted for."

Haliburton nodded, marking down his name. Moving on to the next Justice, she started, "Chris, you've been awfully quiet, what's your opinion?"

Justice Dailey nodded over to Justice Sikes. "I'm with Barbara on this one, we should just throw this one out. I vote "nay"."

"And would you care to explain your reasoning for your vote?"

He nodded. "It's all a power play. They figure that if they can stir the nest enough, we'll capitulate and let them do whatever they want. I wouldn't be surprised if Princess Salami or whatever her name is put the petitioner up to this. I say we don't feed this little upstart and just let the ponies simmer down." 

Chief Justice Haliburton nodded. "Fair enough. Glenn, have you had enough rest to make a proper decision?" the Chief Justice said to the portly fellow in the corner. 

"Yes your Honor. I vote we toss this one out. Nay," Justice Rutherford said definitively. "We haven't matured our international relationships enough to question such cases like this. If we take it on, rumor could reach Equestria that we're actively trying to suppress the ponies of Lazarus, ponies that were until recently citizens of Equestria. We could lose them as our economic crutch. Worse, we could lose them as military allies."

Justice Watson finished her meticulous examination of the writ. "Your Honor, I wish to cast my vote as a "yea". I mean, why shouldn't we give it a chance? Who knows, taking it on could finally silence all the grumbling from the ponies and the other creatures. And who cares if word reaches Equestria? We did pretty good on our own, and we have other economic allies we can rely on. Besides, I don't think the gryphons or the donkeys in the city even care."

Haliburton tallied down the two votes. Looking over to Justice Nakamura, who had since gained his composure and his wakefulness, Chief Justice Haliburton gave him the go ahead. "George, what say you?"

Justice Nakamura let out a deep breath. "Yea."

Chief Justice Haliburton raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Care to explain why?"

"Because, we rely on them more than we like to admit. And it is shameful to treat such valuable assets like tools to be used when we need them and put away when we don't."

"Sound reasoning." Chief Justice Haliburton tallied down Justice Nakamura's vote. With so many votes to try this petition, even if she did vote "nay" it wouldn't have any effect. But of all the Justices that she shared the duty of interpreting the law with, Abigail respected the word of Justice Nakamura more than any other. A man of true honor, one that always sought both sides of the argument before making a decision. Unlike Justices Dailey and Sikes, who relied more on their wealthy upbringing or religious background to make a decision. 

Facing all the expectant and waiting Justices of the Supreme Court, Chief Justice Haliburton made her vote heard. "And I vote "yea". It is decided, at a vote of 6 to 3, that the state accepts the case of Lyra Heartstrings v. Republic of Terra."


*****************************************************
 

Lyra had fallen asleep on the couch sometime after midnight. Curled in a little drunken, aquamarine ball of self loathing, she had wondered all night if Bonbon had truly had enough. After all, their relationship and few years of marriage had been through more bumps and rough patches than most other couples endured in a lifetime. Bigotry, intolerance, infertility, fights, and now this. And for once...she blamed herself completely. There was no secret conspiracy by the Equestrian crown, no bigoted idiots who tried to interrupt the most special moments of her marriage, nor even a simple misunderstanding. It was all her fault her marriage and her life were falling apart.

And when she woke up late that morning, she went up to the bedroom, just to see if Bonbon's anger had mellowed over a comfortable rest. Opening the door with her magic, she saw the custard earth pony packing her clothing into her suitcase, leaving a pile of Lyra's belongings on the bed.

"Honey?" Lyra quietly said. "Bonnie? I...I know I screwed up this time. B-but it won't happen again. I'm going to be a more responsible mare from now on. From now on, it's all about us, not just me anymore."

Bonbon didn't say anything. She never even stopped packing her bags. Hefting the considerably lighter suitcase onto her back, she looked her wife in the eye for the first time that morning. "I know you meant well, that you had the best intentions in mind when you let your anger get the better of you. But there's an old saying, that the path to Tartarus is paved in good intentions. You've blazed your own trail down to Tartarus, and for once I don't want to be dragged down with you. Lyra, I'm going back to Ponyville with Twilight and her friends today. And...and I don't care if you come home or not."

And with that said, Bonbon walked quietly out of the bedroom, leaving Lyra alone, her head hung low in shame. A teardrop splashed on the floor, and as Lyra looked up, she saw something that truly made her want nothing more than to crawl in a hole and die. 

Up on the bed, lying on the pillow the she had shared with her most beloved, lay the ring that she had given to Bonbon on their wedding day.

Picking it up, Lyra cradled the wedding band in her hoof, tears flowing freely down her face. Lying down, she hated herself for ever saying anything, for ever acting out or breaching the bonds of her marriage. 

What felt like hours later, she heard the shrill whistle of the train from across the city as it departed for Equestria, her life and her love speeding away with it. Eventually, after another hour or so, the front door opened downstairs. Heavy footsteps came up the stairs, and the door creaked open.

"So, you are still here. I wondered why Bonbon was actually carrying her luggage." Aaron sat down on the corner of the bed, pulling something out of his pocket. "I don't know whether now is the best time to give you this or not. But since you're basically my roommate until I have to go back to Equestria, it's probably best that I don't bother you any more than necessary." He left the letter on the bedspread and stood up to leave.

Lyra looked up with reddened, tear soaked eyes. "Please don't go. Please, I just need somepony to be here for me."

That broken, desperate stare struck a chord of sympathy in him, and the man sat down again, softly stroking Lyra's mane. His gentle, rhythmic strokes soon began to calm her tempestuous soul, and with her horn glowing with magic, she picked up the letter. Stamped on it was a seal bearing the flying phoenix of the Republic, a set of scales hanging over its head.  

Tearing it open, her worst fear became reality. "They...they accepted my case. I'm going to court."
> Hope
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was actually going to happen.

She actually going to court to fight for her rights. And the more she thought about the events of the last week, nay, the last year in general, the more she felt like this was suicidal. Utterly insane and hopeless was probably a closer approximation. With all her bad luck and poor decisions, she was more than likely to fall flat on her face in the court room.

Staring down at a bowl of wok fried veggies on a bed of rice, she shivered inside, stifling another bout of tears. Her gracious human host sat across the table from her, taking slow bites from his dinner and lazily reading the city's newspaper. Rustling the pages, he turned the page to look at tomorrow's weather. Satisfied with a sunny and warm forecast, he set down the paper and looked across the table. 

"So, you gonna eat, or am I going to have to force feed you?" he asked, taking a bite of his takeout stir fry. 

Lyra sniffled, her mind stuck on the tumultuous events of the last few days. Her stupid decision to try and adopt a human child, her even less intelligent decision to challenge the Terran government to a bout of legal fisticuffs, and Bonbon leaving her. Of all the mind shattering and depressing things to happen, her wife's departure was the one that hit the closest to home and sank the deepest. Bonbon, the only pony in all of Equestria she loved enough to want to start a family with, and now she was gone from her life. Any day now, Lyra expected the divorce papers to be flown in via pegasi express mail from Ponyville. 

"I'm not hungry," she barely whispered back.

Aaron pushed the issue, feeling his own brand of guilt for letting such a once happy pony fall down this low. "Come on, starving yourself won't make anything better. And neither will beating yourself up. Lyra, I'm concerned for you, and I know that Twilight and the others were concerned for you too. They knew you long before I did, and they all told me that you were such a happy mare that loved smiling almost as much as Pinkie. And there's nothing that hurts me more than seeing happiness get put down like this. Please, listen to me when I say this, your decisions are in the past, and nothing can change the past. What you have to focus on is the future. And the future isn't something you worry about, the future is just something you plan for."

Lyra looked up from her melancholy, and her horn glowed a soft yellow, scooping a spoonful of the delicious smelling meal up. And even though this kind of human food was an astounding ballet of flavors in her mouth, it still didn't help with her problem, and right now it could have tasted like ash in her mouth.

Taking another slow bite, she wondered what in Tartarus she was going to do. "Mr Patterson, what do I do? I've never been to court before, I always just paid my fines and left. What do I do?"

Aaron bit his lip and sighed to himself. "I can't help you because of who and what I am. My job is far too political for me to intervene any more than I already have with this. Shit, people might think I'm pulling the strings just because you live here. I can't help you directly and I can't even take an official stance, but I can tell you to start building your case while you can. You get a half hour of oral argument before the Justices, then the respondent gets half an hour to build a case against you. It goes on like that for around two weeks every month or until both the petitioner and the respondent both rest."

"Two weeks every month? How long does that go on?"

Aaron snorted, taking another bite of his dinner. "Around six months. Typically October to April, but since they called a conference to look at your case outside of the normal time, it might be shorter or even longer. With the government being so unbalanced and wonky, who really knows? And since there's only 152,000 humans, as opposed to the 300 million in pre-War America alone, I expect a quick decision on the parts of the Justices."

Lyra sighed, thinking of the one person who this truly affected more than anyone else. "I hope it's shorter. I hope it all just closes after a few weeks. I can't stand the thought of that baby growing up without a momma. Waking up every morning to see a different person, not knowing anyone as a parent. No one there to rock her to sleep, no one to kiss her good night or read her a story. Nobody to catch her when she falls or kiss her boo-boos. I'm not worried about my future anymore, I'm worried about hers." She sniffled, a single tear falling down her cheek and splashing down on the table.

The man across the table looked like he was fighting off a small heart attack, and he let out a hnnngggg as he clutched his chest. "God damn it, you really need to win this. You'd be a better mom than any mom I've ever had." He seemed to space out for a moment, his eyes gaining that thousand yard stare. "Yes, a hell of a lot better than you!" he snapped suddenly. "You freakin' killed me once, and you steal my body on a nightly basis! You're not exactly winning any 'Mother of the Year' awards!" 

Realizing he was ranting out loud, he sheepishly grinned to Lyra. "Sorry, that was supposed to be...private. But, uh, anyways, you really should hit the books and start writing down all the merits of your case. There's a couple law books in my office." Rising from the table, he started clearing away the dishes. "So just....keep your chin up, okay? Don't let this ruin you as a person. And since you violated my bed, I guess I'll be taking one of the guest bedrooms."

Dropping off the dishes in the sink, Aaron left his for his man-cave in the den, pulling a pair of ear buds out of his pockets and plugging himself in. The mare slid out of the chair made for a human sitter, walking slowly to the room she had respectfully stayed out of for her entire vacation. And since vacation time was over, there was work to be done. 

Stepping into Mr Patterson's office, she could have gasped. Whereas his den contained wonders, curios and artifacts from cultures all around the world, his office was purely human. The last fading rays of daylight came in through a large window in the back, splashing down on row after row books on history, law, philosophy, science, religion, anything and everything that the human mind had ever contemplated with deep thought. Had this been a year ago, had this been before she knew she had human neighbors, she would have leapt with joy, her inner conspirator overjoyed at the enlightening texts on human civilization that coated every wall. 

Levitating a book on civil law, she dropped it on the office desk carefully and cracked it open. Almost instantly she was buffeted by terminology and phrases she did not understand that were spoken in some kind of language that was long dead. Latin, yeah, that's what the book called it. Whenever they wanted to make something sound important, they always threw in some Latin, seemingly just for the hell of it.

For hours she pored herself into reading and understanding as much as she could from that book. She skimmed over the pages, cramming as much knowledge of human law as she could in so little time. In two days, she would be brought into the Supreme Court of the Republic of Terra, and she would have to plead her case before nine Justices bent on protecting their people. 

Darkness fell, and Lyra switched on those fancy, newfangled "light bulbs" using the switch on the wall. Far easier than reading by candlelight, that was for sure. And as she grasped at these barren descriptions and confusing concepts, she started to learn. Human law was based on common law, the laws that a previous, older civilization had worked out. And since most of these people in this city were "American" in origin, she focused on American common law above all others.

Based on the common laws of another, older nation called "England", American laws lacked the social distinction between nobility and the commoners that English law insisted upon enforcing. Lyra began to understand something, that Equestrian law shared many traits with both sets of laws, doling out the blind justice of American law while enforcing the social distinction of commoners and nobility. And the more she read, the more she seemed to favor American law. 

It was meant to be fair while being completely unprejudiced. Judges, lawyers, lawmakers and law enforcement officers all had to follow the strict tradition of the common law, since that was what their predecessors had decided was the fairest and most impartial judgement. And that whenever something like new, something unexpected like her case came along, typically it went through the legal gauntlet, starting low with a petition or a case in a civil court. And if the judges at the lower levels felt this went higher, it did, passing through appeals and circuits and all the way up to the Supreme Court of the state. And if state or provincial Justices felt it needed to go higher, it took another tour of the federal system. 

Her case however, was different. She reasoned that since the youthful nation of Terra didn't have the territory nor the population or even the time to justify the stratification of a justice system to both state and federal levels that all cases would be considered either very high or very low, whether they were considered at all. Hence the possible expediency of her hearing. 

And though this was all rather fascinating, she could only take so much of it. Lyra searched for any inkling of laws and legal precedents that might adhere to her case, and all of Aaron's law books only held the most famous of criminal cases, not civil cases. After awhile, she began to get frustrated, skimming only through the glossaries of books, searching for anything that might help her. In a fit of magic that would have made Twilight proud, she levitated Aaron's entire collection of law books, circling them around in a storm of text, seeking out anything that might have escaped her before. 

And for all her study, nothing. She may have understood the judicial process a micron better than when she started, but nothing here was going to help her. Her eyes felt like iron weights, and the extended use of her magic made her tired and achy. And around three in the morning, she lay her head down on the desk and succumbed to exhaustion.

She woke up the next morning with bleary red eyes and less hope than ever on her horizon. And as soon as Lyra worked out the kink in her neck, she levitated another law book over and started to flip through it. Only when the sun finally started creeping in the west window again did she stop and look at the time.

"Eighteen hours. I've been at this....for eighteen hours." She looked down at the book open on the table and sighed. "And I still haven't learned anything useful."

Her ears perked up for a moment, and she had a thought. "Wait, I don't know human law very well, but I'm pretty good at pony law. Maybe if I gave them examples from Equestria, they'd think it was a better idea than their own laws!" Later in her life, she would look back on that moment and seriously ponder how stupid that sounded. Lyra was a decently smart mare, but desperation, lack of sleep and recent tragedy made for the biggest idiots.

Rummaging through the drawers of the desk, Lyra sought out a pad of paper and a pencil. She wondered why Aaron kept a baggie of grass clippings in his desk, and she thought about throwing it out for him. After all, any plant that smelled that skunky had almost certainly gone bad. But there was no time for that!

Trying every memory trick and spell that she knew of, she tried to bring back any memories of family law from Equestrian history. Almost instantly she came up to a perfect draw. "Twilight and Spike! They're not even from the same family of animals, yet they're one of the happiest little families in Ponyville! If anything will get 'em, that will!" Desperately she scribbled that down, wanting anything put down on paper to say that she at least had some stake in this, and not just a desperate sob story about her failing life and her want to make the life a child better.

It was better than nothing, but a nagging sense of doubt told her it was next to nothing.


*******************************************


Lyra stared in the mirror, trying to control her breathing. With her comb shivering in her magic, she tried once again to untangle her knotty and unkempt mane. Setting down the brush, she dug through her meager beauty kit, trying to find something that would fix baggy, red eyes. For once she cursed her usual apathy to her looks, and knew that the judges would hold it against her for looking this shabby. 

"I wish I had somepony around who knew how to make me look acceptable! Somepony like Rarity or Bon-" Her heart twinged at her accidental mention of Bonbon. She had been too focused on cramming for today's opening hearing to check the mail for her divorce papers. But....she was almost certain they would come. And after that, all she had left in her life was her lyre and this trial. And if she made a complete fool out herself before the Supreme Court, she could always just start a life as a wandering musician. After seeing all the desperate creatures in this city, she would never be able to live down the shame of failing to represent them in court. And after news reached Equestria, she would be a laughing stock in every household. 

She wondered what she would do if she failed and both Terra and Equestria were no longer options for her. Well, she'd always heard Snowreach was fairly nice this time of year. If you could get past the backwards frontier folk, swarms of black flies, rampaging tribes of trolls, and the occasional unspeakable horror that sometimes wandered down from the tundras. Yeah, Snowreach was probably a good place to hide in shame forever and ever. Perhaps those simple mining folk were in desperate need of...classical musicians. Okay, so Snowreach was off the list. Maybe Zebrica, or even Taurissian....

"Lyra!" Aaron called through the door, rapping on the door with his knuckles. "Are you ready?"

Looking at her reflection one last time in the mirror, she swallowed the forming lump in her throat, shaking her head. "No," she whispered to herself. But she accepted fate, and nodding to herself, she told herself over and over, "I know I can do this. I know I can win this."

A scant ten minutes later, the pockets of her pony made jacket stuffed with notes and papers, she walked with her human escort out the front door and towards the courthouse.

To her surprise, the address delivered with her subpoena led them to an above-ground building on the vague crossroads of Fort Greenewell, the suburbs and the market. A small ordeal that looked like it would be a schoolhouse when the infant generation started needing their proper education. Right outside the door of the impromptu courthouse stood a solitary Terran Marine on guard duty, and as the mare walked up he waved her in. Recognizing Dr Patterson, the Marine stopped him.

"Sorry sir, we're under strict orders to keep an eye out for you. We can only allow you in if you consent to be under a Tesla field at all times." The soldier nodded over to an inert micro Tesla device on the stoop, ready to use at the push of a button if needed.

Aaron shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't consent to that." With his very particular set of responsibilities, he had to be able to psionically reach the spirit world at any given time. Looking over to Lyra, he wanted to give her all the support he could in this her darkest hour. "Lyra, I can't come in with you today. You're going to be all alone in there, so try and be strong for yourself. Be strong for the little girl down there in the hospital."

The mare quivered in anxiety, but she shakily nodded to her friend. "Okay," she peeped. Walking in the door, she passed the threshold of no return. She thought about that baby girl, her silky brown hair, her perfect little fingers and toes. She thought about her losses, and how shouldn't give up because of adversity. And she found the strength to take the leap into the deep end.


**********************************************


The courthouse was almost empty. Inside the only people currently present were a few court clerks laying out all the papers and setting the places for the Justices, the respondent lawyer in his place on the left, and an earth pony janitor idly sweeping the floor in the public gallery.

It brought a small sense of calm to her that another pony was at least here, that she wouldn't be completely ostracized from her kind during the hearing. But her hopes were once again dashed when the janitor swept the dirt up and left. So much for the comforting racial instinct amongst ponies to have others of their own kind close by. 

Another soldier in dress uniform stepped over to her from beside the Justice's table. "You're the petitioner?" he asked. Recognizing him as some kind of impromptu bailiff, Lyra nodded. "Alright, you're seated over there. Court will be in session in ten minutes. When I call for all to rise, stand from your seat until told otherwise. Since you're the petitioner, your argument is first. Expect questions from any Justice at any given time, and you will properly answer beginning with 'Mr or Ms Justice.' In the case of Chief Justice Haliburton, you will answer to her as 'Madam Chief Justice'." 

The bailiff dropped her off at her desk before taking his place by the Justice's podium again. Lyra stole a glance over at the respondent's table, and nearly had a heart attack. The Attorney General, the man acting as respondent on behalf of the Republic, seemed to have everything he needed to crush her like an ant. 

He had several stacks of official documents laid out on the table, and he seemed to be organizing them, trying to see in which order they would destroy the opposition best. Lyra looked down at her own stack of tattered, ratty papers. He had at least two hundred sheets, while she had just over ten, all hoof written. One of them was even on a large napkin.

Leaning down, she banged her head on the table, wanting the imminent slaughter to just be over already. 

"Hey, you must be Heartstrings," a man's voice said to her. Looking up from the table, she saw the Attorney General standing by her table, taking a sip out of his coffee mug. He had a slick look about him, a look that came with years of experience on the courtroom floor. But he had taken some stresses; though he was still in his prime, he was graying at the temples, and the corners of his eyes showed crow's feet.

"Yeah, I'm Lyra," she said back. 

The respondent grinned, holding out his hand in greeting. "David Bennett, Attorney General." Lyra carefully took his hand, noticing the gleaming ring that reminded her of rings or bracelets that they gave to law school graduates in Equestria.

"I just wanted to say that there's nothing personal about what happens today, but I'm going to do my job as best as I can. Really thought I should be a part of this one, one pony against the whole nation of Terra, never mind the fact that it's the first case to go through the Terran Supreme Court." He looked around for a moment, hooking a thumb in his belt. "So uh, where's your representation?"

"My what?" she asked, obviously confused. 

"Your representation. You know, legal council, maybe a lawyer or something?"

Lyra laid her ears flat, her facing lightly flushing pink in embarrassment. "I uh...I don't have any."

Attorney General Bennett whistled, impressed at her daring. "Wow, not only does she have the guts to stand up to the whole human race, but she also represents herself. This really is one for the books." He checked his pocket watch, one probably crafted by pony hooves, and nodded to himself. "Well, Court convenes in two minutes, good luck. Lord knows you'll need it," he murmured once he was out of earshot.

Well pony feathers! If she'd known she could have hired a lawyer to do all the fighting for her, she wouldn't be right here in the frying pan waiting for the respondent to turn the heat up! Well it was too late now. Besides, all the money she earned here went back to Ponyville with Bonbon. She didn't even had a tarnished bit to her name in this city. All her material wealth was back in Equestria, and it was likely that Bonbon would either sell it all or move it out as soon as possible.

The bailiff cleared his throat. "All rise for the honorable Justices of the Supreme Court of the the Republic of Terra."

Lyra stood hastily from her seat, following the lead of Attorney General Bennett. A door to the right of the Justice's podium opened, a woman wearing a black robe walking in followed by eight others all dressed the same. Chief Justice Haliburton took the center seat, the other Justices taking the seats on either side of her. 

"Be seated," the bailiff said. Clearing his throat once again, he took on his secondary duty, the invocation. "God save the Republic of Terra and this honorable court. May he bless us with swift, righteous judgement."

Chief Justice Haliburton nodded to the bailiff, who took his leave. Grabbing Lyra's petition, she flipped to the first page. "We will hear argument this morning in case No. 1 of the Terran judiciary, Lyra Heartstrings against the Republic of Terra. Mrs Heartstrings, you may begin."

Lyra froze, hoping for a moment that there was some other Mrs Heartstrings in the courtroom. A quick and uneasy glance around, and the only people in her sight were the human Justices, her opposition, and herself. Swallowing the knot in her throat, Lyra tried to begin. 

"Um, Madam Chief Justice, I, uh, I pass." Almost instantly she regretted saying that. She'd just given up her turn, and court had only been in session for a minute!

Chief Justice Haliburton raised her eyebrow. "You "pass"?"

"Yes ma'am. I mean, yes Madam Chief Justice. I'd like for him to go first." She shakily pointed a hoof over at the respondent.

The Justices murmured amongst themselves for a moment, whispering their opinions to one another. The Chief Justice decided to proceed with the petitioner's request. "Very well. Mr Bennett, you may present your, ahem, response."

The Attorney General rose smoothly from his seat, a thumb comfortably hooked under his belt. "Thank you, Madam Chief Justice. I would like to begin today by saying that I come before you as a grateful citizen and expectant father in this great nation. We are here today because humanity is a race that strives everyday to better itself and to protect itself. Sure, the sins of our forefathers have come crashing down on our heads, but we are over that as a people. For the first time in history, mankind is completely united. We are one people. And this unity between all the peoples who once saw themselves different as a result of creed or heritage is enforced by our right, nay our duty as human beings to protect one another, and to assure the future of our children. The state may not have always been as stalwart as we are now in the interests of our next generation, but today I appeal to the caring heart that beats inside all of us. I ask you to simply think of our children."

The Attorney General scooped a stack of papers off of his desk, handing them to the bailiff to pass out to the Justices. "As you can see here, the government's role in the prevention of child mistreatment and abuse as per parens patriae is to cover for the child's possible opinion if they are unable to assert their own. Now, I would like to point out that young Ms Appleton, the child in question, is without parents at the present time. Since she is a burden of the state, the legal rights of two out of three parties involved, the child and the state, are completely subject to the will of the government at large. Now, I assert that the government was completely within their rights to deny parentage to the petitioner."

"And how do you say that, Mr Bennett?" Justice Brockmann asked. 

Mr Bennett slowed paced back and forth in front of the Justices, completely at ease with the situation. "Being that Terran Social Services are burdened with the responsibility of handling the young girl's affairs, it is only natural that they are the ones who decide what becomes of her. While I will be the first to admit that the presentation of the Guardian Clause by Mr Alexander Sanders to the petitioner was not socially acceptable in his mannerisms, he was in the right. As far as her parentage is concerned, she belongs to the state, and thus the human race. Madam Chief Justice, the respondent will allow for the petitioner to begin her argument."

Mr Bennett took his seat, a smirk of an easy victory on his face. Chief Justice Haliburton glanced over to Lyra as she tried to comprehend half of what had just been said. "Mrs Heartstrings, you may present your argument."

Lyra felt cold inside. Bennett had this in the bag. Only five minutes of his argument, and he was resting for the duration?! Standing from her seat and levitating a few of the papers, she cleared her throat and began. 

"Um, Madam Chief Justice, I would like to present a few cases from my people....i-if it pleases the court."

Haliburton nodded once. "May the petitioner be reminded that the laws of her people hold no true bearing in this court, and are only exemplary."

"No bearing? O-okay. Ahem, Madam Chief Justice, in Equestria we believe in the simple idea that who you are is not what you are. This simple principle has driven our nation for thousands of years. Though the majority of my people are ponies, any creature that resides in harmony and wishes to have the same rights as a pony is given them. Even creatures that you proclaim to be monsters; diamond dogs, gryphons, even dragons are welcomed as a part of society if they show the interest and the aptitude. Every creature is given the rights that they have both earned and deserve. If a gryphon serves in the Equestrian military, he is subject to earn the same veteran's benefits as a pony soldier. If a dragon finds work in industry, he still has to pay the same taxes as a pony worker for his labor. And most important to my case, if a pony or other creature wishes to adopt a creature of a different species, it is allowed and encouraged. In my home town of Ponyville, the local librarian has formally adopted a dragonling to be her son. You know this pony, her name is Twilight Sparkle, and she is one of the reasons you are even here today. And the dragon, Spike, is raised in a kind, loving and gentle fashion, as is the pony way. And though he has questioned his heritage, he does not wish to return to draconic society. Spike accepts his heritage as a dragon, but he embraces the civility and love of pony society."

Lyra stopped for a moment, draining the entire glass of water at her table in nervousness. "Anyways, adoption between species is completely legal and morally right in Equestria. Equestria is a society that has flourished for two millenia, and we only want to help a society that is just getting back on its feet. Never, ever has the question of family threatened to destabilize pony society, because to us family is something that you make, not something that fits in some predefined terms."

For another fifteen minutes Lyra babbled on as best as she could, draining the water jug on her table. And the entire time, not a word of what she said was legally applicable. She prattled on about the first example of interspecies adoption in Equestrian history between a pony family who adopted an orphaned gryphon. She regaled them with examples of when minotaurs legally called colts and fillies son or daughter. All of her legal knowledge meant nothing here. And when she finally ran out of ideas and breath, she called it and sat down. 

And though it felt like an entire day had passed since she had walked in that courtroom door, only forty-five minutes had gone by since the invocation was given. Never once did the Justices interrupt her to ask a question. And never once did their expressions change.

And when the Justices dismissed the hearing for the day, Lyra walked out of the door and blankly wandered for hours. None of the evidence or arguments she had presented had even made a positive dent in her case. For all the Justices were concerned, she might as well have been an empty space in the courtroom, and all her efforts were for naught.


****************************************************


She wandered the city for hours, wondering if it was possible to just throw this case out completely. There never was any hope that she might pull off a stunning victory in court, not with such legal precedent and a top notch representative like Mr Bennett. And all she wanted right now was to see the city from her dreams one last time before she grabbed her lyre and struck out alone.

Lyra looked at sights she thought she would never see in her life, technology that made the most innovative pony material look clunky. Art that made her heart twirl with wonder and emotion. Homes that would be filled with loving families.

And through it all, Lyra knew that she never stood a chance against such a powerhouse as humanity. She actually managed to be surprised when she looked up and saw the sky painted with the purples and oranges of twilight, the barest glimmers of stars poking through the sun's last fading rays. She'd wandered the city for hours, with no purpose in mind other than to be alone with her thoughts.

And Lyra wasn't surprised by where her restless hooves had taken her, the peaceful and idyllic Park. She sighed, taking one of the twisting and winding path through the ancient forest, passing by statues and benches, fields and meadows. until she came to the one place in the entire Republic where everyone was absolutely welcome, the gazebo. But she noticed that it wasn't unoccupied, a certain mage human stood in front of the Singing Crystal, facing a small crowd of eager faces and giving some kind of lecture as they scribbled down notes.

His magic classes, she suddenly realized. That's right, Aaron was teaching some kinds of magic to these people, magic that all creatures could use, not just unicorns. Aaron stopped his lecture for a moment, checking his watch and declaring that class was over for the evening. The students all rose, chattering to one another and looking very excited about their latest lesson as they took the pathways back to their homes.

A pair passed by Lyra, and she recognized the woman of the pair by her voice from the radio. 

"Wow, an actual healing potion recipe! I can't wait to try it out!" she exclaimed to her friend.

"Me too! But what I love is this locking rune! I wonder if it'll work on cabinets. You know, to keep a certain somebody from snacking before dinner." The pair laughed at the jest, continuing down the path. Lyra looked ahead to the now empty gazebo, and decided that maybe she needed a little of the hope that people said this place gave.

Stepping lightly onto the wooden steps, she ascended into the shrine to the spirits that this place had become. The glowing crystal stayed in its place, not changing its harmonious song with the nighttime world. 

Lyra looked at the crystal, her eyes probing into its facets, seeking some kind of answer to her prayers. Dropping to her haunches, she sighed. "Please," she whispered to the crystal on its podium. "Please, I need help. I broke apart my marriage, I've picked a fight I can't win, and I'm going to fail the little girl who needs me. All of my friends have abandoned me, all I have left is my lyre. Please, I need hope. I need help."

She looked longingly into the crystal, waiting for it to light up and banish away her desperation or give her the strength to overcome this challenge. "Please answer me," she begged to it. "Please!" she cried.

The crystal did not change, it just continued its eternal song.

Lyra sniffled, standing up and walking over to one of the benches along the side of the gazebo. She lay down on her side, like a pony should, and she started to cry again. Her tears splashed down on the smooth, alabaster wood of the shrine, and she lost everything. She couldn't take it anymore. As soon as she was through here, it was back to the house to grab her lyre, and then the open road until she died in some ditch.

The trotting clop of hooves brought her bleary eyes up. A unicorn mare like herself trotted up to the gazebo, her head held high as she hummed a little ditty. She had a dark green coat, with a curly black mane. A splash of freckles danced across her smiling face, and she had the look of a filly who had just claimed her marehood. 

"Excuse me," the stranger asked. "Is this seat taken?" She pointed a hoof to the bench next to Lyra's, and with such a pretty young face like hers, who was she to say no? 

"Knock yourself out, kid," she said quietly, still miring in her failure.

The mare happily trotted over to the bench, laying down neatly and gently. Settling herself in, she closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of the night. 

Lyra tried to contain her emotions around this stranger. Whoever she was, she was interrupting a good session of self pity. But her sniffles overcame her civility, and a fresh batch of tears rolled down her face.

The stranger opened her eyes, cocking an eyebrow at Lyra. "Are you okay?" she asked in concern.

"I'm fine," Lyra trembled.

"You don't sound fine. With all that sniffling, you sound a little sick. Are you sick? Do you have one of those icky summer colds? Oh! Maybe it's allergies! I hate allergies, they make you all icky and sick so you can't enjoy going out and having fun!" Her ramble was soon cut short by a firefly as it flew into the gazebo, lighting its little bottom and completely enrapturing the odd mare. "Oooooohhh, pretty," she said quietly.

Okay, what could have been pleasantly silent company was turning into an outing with a repackaged Pinkie Pie. And of all the ponies in Ponyville that she disliked spending too much time with, it was that pink sugar rush on hooves. And what was worse, this one actually had magic!

The strange mare snapped out of her fixation. "Are you allergic to the flowers? That would be bad 'cause the flowers around here are all so pretty this time of year. Or maybe it's all the pollen from the grass! Oh wait, you'd be pretty hungry all the time if you were allergic to grass." The odd little mare giggled at her own observation, snorting between her sweet, girlish giggles.

"Look, I'm not sick, okay!" she snapped to the girl.

The girl cocked an eyebrow. "Then why are you crying? Did you get hurt? Did one of your friends say something mean?" She gasped, covering her mouth with a hoof. "Did something really bad happen?" Her look was of actual, real concern. Something that nopony ever really gave her unless they were afraid for her, like during her human obsessed years.

"I don't want to talk about it," Lyra replied solemnly.

"Oh. I understand." She went silent for a moment, looking around the gazebo with a bored expression, one that demanded that something interesting happen right now. "I'm Dreamy," she said to Lyra, extending a hoof in greeting.

Lyra looked at her hoof with contempt, and only out of common courtesy she took it and shook once. "Lyra Heartstrings," she said back.

"Woooooooowww," Dreamy said. "That's a pretty name. I wish I had a name that beautiful."

"Tell ya what," Lyra grated, desperate to rid herself of this oddball. "When I run away from the Republic, you can have my name, okay?"

Dreamy clapped her hooves together in excitement, very pleased with this little faux-pas. She went silent for a few minutes, just looking around at the gazebo and all the beautiful things inside and outside of it. She started humming that little ditty again, and for some reason Lyra felt like it was incredibly familiar. 

"I like coming here," Dreamy remarked. "Right about now all the fireflies come out and light up like little stars on the ground. And sometimes if I sit here really quite, a forest animal will come and graze in the clearing. It's really a magical place, but it is kind of small. But hey, it's always the little things in life that make it worth living. I mean, why sweat the big bad things when there's so much beauty in the little things?"

Lyra rolled her eyes, her tolerance for this obviously crazy pony at its limit. "Look, I didn't come here to look at the small things or to be happy. I came here to find some hope in an obviously hopeless cause. I came here to find some way to salvage my life and hopefully leave this country with my pride! I came here to get my prayers answered!"

And in a blink of an eye, Dreamy lost her girlish demeanor, and a coy smile began to creep up her face. "So, is that what this is all about? In need of a little hope are you?"

"Yes, and you and your constant chatter aren't helping! This damn thing here," she jerked her head towards the crystal on its podium, "needs to do something. Because...because I just need somepony to help me for once."

Dreamy started to chuckle. Very dignified and controlled, unlike her snorting and guffawing only moments ago. "And what if someone has already answered your prayers?"

"What could you possibly-" Lyra cut herself short. Dreamy sat up on the bench, holding her head up high as she extended a pair of light, delicate wings from her back. "Horn....wings....you're a...a-a princess," Lyra managed to say.

"Correction," Dreamy said. Her entire body gained a strange aura of light, and her small pony form dissipated. And in its place sat an awe inspiring creature of beauty. An alicorn like Princess Celestia, she still had Dreamy's forest green fur and her black mane. But that mane was like Luna's, a window into the stars and galaxies of the universe. And when Dreamy had arrived clean of any jewelry, this new her wore a crystal diadem and a necklace bearing the seal of the Elements of Harmony. "'Queen' would be a more accurate title, Lyra Heartstrings."

Lyra trembled before this creature, wondering if she should leap to the floor and grovel for her insolence only moments before. "Who are you?" she asked timidly.

The alicorn goddess chuckled. "Certainly you must recognize me? After all, I have known you for your entire life, I even witnessed the very day you first opened your eyes, and your mother hummed you that song when she first looked into your amber eyes." The alicorn once again began to hum that little song, and it struck the unicorn. That song was the one her mother sang to her every night before bed, and it was the first tune she ever played on her lyre.

"You, you're her. This shrine...it's for you. You're The Mother."

The Earth goddess nodded. "Yes. And no. This shrine is not for me, it simply acts as a place where people can come to see me." She ran a hoof along the polished white wood. "Do you like it? It took six hundred years of planning and gentle persuasion to get all the plants to grow in just the right way. But it wasn't me alone, no no. This was a family effort. In this place reside the magical touches of all your celestial aunts and uncles; Aries, Aphros, Jove, Oronos, even Father Sol came to give his respects to the Fallen and add his own touch."

With her troubles momentarily forgotten, Lyra really did see the beauty of this place for all it was. "It is beautiful. But, how is this possible? You're a spirit, how am I seeing you right now?"

Once again she smiled. "You aren't. This, my dear, is a dream. I thought Dreamy's name gave it all away. After all, it isn't only the bison of the mighty plains who call me by so many names; Great Spirit, Earth Mother, Wind Shepherd, The Dancing Flame, the Dream Walker."

"But I thought that Princess Luna was the dream keeper, she's the one who banishes nightmares and such."

The goddess scoffed. "And who exactly do you think taught her how, hmm? None other than dear old Mom!"

Lyra looked down at her own hoof, wondering something. "This is a dream. A lucid dream. Does that mean I can-"

"Do whatever your imagination will allow? Yes indeed." Lyra started when the alicorn in the seat next to her faded away, leaving a human woman leaning back, her dazzling golden eyes and flowing black hair still the same as Dreamy's. 

Lyra held her hoof up to her face, and she closed her eyes, concentrating on one things in particular that had fancied her dreams so many years ago. Carefully opening an eye, she smiled in awe, a lithe human hand taking the place of her digitless foreleg.

The goddess chuckled. "My my, you are a pretty one. But all of my children are beautiful in their own way." The goddess summoned a mirror, holding it up for Lyra to see. And when she looked into the silver surface, the creature that looked back was familiar, yet alien.

Her skin was hairless except a short minty crop atop her head. Her muzzle had receded, and only a little button nose remained. She still had her amber eyes, but her ears had rounded off and become smaller. Here in this dream reality, she had done what only a few unicorns had accomplished in their labs. "I'm...I'm beautiful," she said. Raising a delicate hand she softly touched her own face. It felt so real, so smooth and flawless, yet it was insubstantial compared to her real form.

"You're beautiful no matter what form you choose to have. Now come with me, I have something to show you." The human goddess stood from the bench, holding out her hand for Lyra. She hesitated, wondering where in this dreamscape the goddess was taking her. "Come on, I don't bite," she said with a smile.

Lyra gently took her hand, and the gazebo flashed away from both of them, replaced by a misty hallway. "Where are we?"

"The Undercity. Or at least a dream world image of it. Some things exist here that do not exist in the waking world, and some things in the waking world are different here in the dream world. Now come, we must make haste." The goddess glided down the hallway, turning to a door that she opened with a wave of her hand. "Go, someone needs you in there."

Lyra walked through the open door, and found herself in the hospital's nursery. The misty room looked much the same as it did the day she and Bonbon had walked in there together. Happy landscapes and smiling suns still decorated the wall, and rows of incubators lay ready for the new babies of Lazarus. Going to a certain row, she came to the only occupied incubator in the whole nursery. And in it was that little girl, still swaddled in her little blanket.

Lyra smiled, reaching down with her new hand to gently stroke her cheek. "We're in her dream, aren't we?"

The Earth Mother appeared next to her, reaching down into the cradle to softly stroke her forehead, her finger delicately touching the mark that was Her own sign. "Yes. This is the only world she has ever known, and the only place she can dream of. She deserves something more than this, and she needs someone better than a nurse to feed her or care for her. She needs you, Lyra. And you need her." The infant opened her eyes, looking at the women above her with wonder. The Earth Mother smiled, cooing softly to the infant girl. "Hello little one."

A small tendril of magic reached out from the infant's mark, seeking a comforting companion. "Look, she still dreams of your magical touch. But I think she deserves something more." The goddess looked at Lyra and nodded down to the infant.

Lyra felt a warmth in her heart, and gently lifted the baby out of her resting place. Cradling her in her arms, she hummed her song lightly to the little girl, rocking her back and forth as gently as she could in this form. Taking a step back, the Earth Mother watched the scene with love. A single tear fell from her golden eye, and she felt the warm love of both the child and the person who wanted to be her mother in her heart. Moments like this were why she had tried so hard for millenia to see life blossom on the world she embodied. If love like this could be in everyone's heart, maybe....maybe the War wouldn't have been necessary.

"Lyra," she said gently. "Our time is short. She will wake up in moments, and I must get you out of this place before her dream fades away."

Lyra nodded slowly. Placing the child back in her cradle, Lyra leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Sleep tight, dear little angel." She took the goddess's outreached hand, and once again the world of dreams flashed before her eyes as they returned to the gazebo. 

Letting go of her hand, Lyra noticed that both of them had returned to pony form, and the alicorn stood by the Singing Crystal on its podium. Lyra took a few deep breaths. "Thank you for that," she said.

"My pleasure," the goddess replied. 

But she couldn't help but feel that it was all a temptation of something that she could never have. Even if she had found her hope once again, it wouldn't make a difference in court. "Even though that was the kindest thing anypony has ever done for me, it still doesn't help. I need you to help me in court. Can you do that, please?"

The Earth Mother shook her head. "No, I cannot. Even gods have rules that they must follow. Rules laid down by entities that transcend both the material and energy realms. And if I break these rules, it could mean that I myself end up in a kind of court. I can't infringe on a sentient species' right to self governance, and personally interfering in something like that could be disastrous to both me and everything I protect."

Lyra slumped over in her bench, shaking her head. "Then I'm back at square one."

The Earth Mother's lofty stoicism began to fall, and she turned to the crystal on its podium. "No, you're not." Holding her expansive wing around the crystal, she let out a wispy breath of mist that coalesced into an orb over the pinnacle of the crystal. Turning back to Lyra, she held the orb gently in her hoof. "Catch!"

She lobbed the orb to Lyra, who fumbled it in her hooves before carefully catching it. "What's this?" she asked excitedly. "Some kind of magic power that will give me the ability to change opinions? Some kind of telepathy or-or something like that?!"

The alicorn goddess laughed heartily. "No my dear. That will be your legal council! I cannot interfere on your behalf, but there are no rules concerning the souls of those who have passed on! Now, do everything he tells you to do, down to the letter. He's gotten me out of more than one legal jam with other gods. His name is Clarence, but he prefers that you call him "Mr Darrow". Lyra, meet your lawyer, the greatest civil rights attorney in all of human history, the Attorney for the Damned, or should I say Of the Damned!" 

The goddess laughed at that like it was pure comedic gold. The orb in Lyra's hoof shivered with a kind of life, levitating into the air. "You never get tired of that one, do you?" The voice was thick and husky, like it came from a large and imposing man.

"Never in a million years! Now, you should be off Lyra, you and your attorney have work to do! You're going to bring the good fight where it needs to go! And remember, this is far more than just you Lyra, this is for all the creatures of this nation! Now away, you have rights to fight for!"

A golden light enveloped the alicorn, sweeping away the dream world and tearing down the misty image of the gazebo.


*******************************************


Lyra snapped awake, her amber eyes looking around at the gazebo. Leaning up on the bench, she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. "What a weird dream."

"You think that's weird? Little sister, you haven't seen anything yet." 

Lyra nearly leapt out of her own fur at the thick, husky voice that sounded like it was right next to her. Scrambling to the other end of the bench, she stared at the floating spirit orb that lazily sat there. "Sweet mane of Celestia! That was real!? You're really real?!"

The orb bobbed once, nodding. "Clarence Darrow, attorney at law. The Big Gal tells me you managed to stir the hornet's nest and you need a little help."

"Uh, yeah," she replied meekly. "But, how can I see you? Don't spirits need to be inside a rune circle to be seen?"

"The Big Gal altered both of us, so get used to having a ghost whispering in your ear during the trial. Now, it has been over two thousand years since I last practiced law, so I need to refresh my memory and take in any precedents set after my timely demise. Take me to a library or archive."

Lyra rubbed her neck with a hoof. "Um, it's kind of late. And my roommate must be worried sick about me. But-but he has a lot of law books!"

"Good enough."
> Attorney for the Damned
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a soda pop day.

Aaron flopped down on the couch in his den, fairly exhausted after today's activities. Magically summoning a glass, he filled it with a fizzy bottle of root beer imported from Equestria. Some parts of the day had been stressful, like Lyra's apparent mishap in court. But other parts had been rather pleasing, like his surprise lunch date with his girlfriend. Girlfriend; the very word made his quiver with self satisfaction, and what a catch! She was smart, funny, good looking, had a great job, and most of all, she was just as interested in him as he was in her.

But most pleasing to him had been his lessons today. He had expected that when he told Lisa to invite some friends that he would have maybe one or two other people show up wanting to learn a little magic. But no, a full two dozen eager students had been at the Singing Crystal's shrine tonight, and the progress they were showing was nothing short of astounding. A handful had already mastered the focus and willpower exercises, and now they were actually practicing rune scripting and alchemy in their spare time.

Hell, a few of them had been talking, saying that the group should become a little more organized than just a few people gathering to practice magic. They'd even started calling themselves something. Druids, like the Celtic spellcasters of ancient myth and lore. But the difference between those ancient druids and these modern ones, these ones actually could use magic. Well, it was sort of fitting. There were already groups in Taurassian that practiced very similar rites, and lo and behold they already called themselves druids. Kind of weird for minotaurs to worship nature spirits, but who's judging?

So his day had started out pretty crappy, not as crappy as Lyra's though, and finished off pretty good. It was...average in the end. Not quite stressful enough to warrant a couple of shots of hard liquor, but not good enough to celebrate and open up a bottle of wine. He wouldn't need a cup of coffee to stay up, but he wouldn't need a mug of tea to relax. And thus, it was a soda pop day.

But something was niggling at his mind. Well, not really his mind, something connected to his mind. It was a very difficult feeling to describe, but he felt that someone was being unnaturally quiet right now. Her thoughts felt distant, like they were focused elsewhere. She was planning something, probably up to no good. 

...or ultimate good, whichever decided to come first. But there were always exceptions to the rule. Always.

Aaron sank back into the cushions of his couch, slugging down his hard earned end of the day beverage. "Wonder if Ann likes theater. Didn't someone say that Les Miserables was starting next week? They also said that tickets were outrageously overpriced. Who did I talk to about that?" he wondered to himself, enjoying this bit of truly free time. "Was it Eve? No, haven't seen her in three days. Maybe Ann told me about it? Oh crap, is this one of those subliminal messages that I'll end up in the doghouse if I don't do what she didn't directly say?"

He thought for moment back to his lovely little lunch out with his best gal. Even though the turkey club was amazing, and the weather had been just perfect, he could recall no message, subliminal or not, about seeing a play. He decided to be a gentleman, and he'd ask her out again tomorrow.

And just when he completely unwound from his day, sinking so deep into the cushions that his imprints would likely be preserved in the fossil record, he heard the front door open.

"Wait a minute, who the hell could that be? I thought Lyra was upstairs in her bedroom, crying her eyes out as usual."

He lurched from the couch, poking his head out the doorway. He barely caught the flicker of an aquamarine tail as it ducked into his office at the end of the hall. 

Aaron fell back into the den, slapping a hand to his gaping mouth. "She's been out all day?! Jesus Christ, she coulda done something stupid out there in the city! I should never have taken my eyes off of her for a second! Christ, she could be suicidal right now!" He smacked himself on the forehead for not actually checking to see if the mare had been in her room.

And as he shook his head, a rank scent hit his nose. An acrid, oily smell of ashes mixed with spit. A smell he knew all too well from spending time around his uncle George back in the twenty-first century. Somebody nearby had been smokin' cigars. And he knew for a fact that Lyra was not a smoker.


******************************************************


Lyra panted slightly as she latched the office door behind herself. Turning to the ghostly orb floating over the desk, she sat down in the swiveling office chair. 

"Why did we have to sneak in?" she whispered.

The loose soul peered over to the door, making sure it was latched good. "You neglected to mention that your roommate is a necromancer. I knew the moment I crossed the threshold you had one around."

"So he talks to dead people, so what?"

Clarence shivered in agitation. "Necromancers do talk to spirits, but only ones on the other side. Any free floating ghosts just seem to piss 'em off to no end. It's one of their odd little character flaws, if they see a wandering spirit, they feel compelled to deport it to the nearest soul well."

The mare raised an eyebrow in confusion. "But, I can just go back to the Crystal and summon you back."

"Not after being deported by a necromancer. I could be resummoned, but the necromancer's magic and will have a lasting effect, and bar the way to reentering this world for a long time, sometimes as long as a century. It's an adaptation to curb demon souls from escaping too often and causing chaos, but it's damn inconvenient for the rest of us. But, I must admit the boy did do something selfless for me, and indeed all mankind. So I have to give him that."

"You sure know a lot about souls and soul magic. But you died way before magic was ever around."

Clarence bobbed up and down, nodding to her assumption. "The day you stop learning is the day you die. And the day you die is the day you start re-learning everything you thought you knew. Now, let's do a little learning."

The spirit orb floated over to the bookcase, checking the spines of the books for any indicator of what was inside. The soul dove into the books, his incorporeal form passing through the matter of the books with ease. Lyra jumped when the soul popped out right in front of her muzzle, motioning over to the bottom shelf.

"Over there, in the corner. Grab the book labeled VII, green spine." 

The unicorn pulled the inconspicuous looking tome out of its place, setting it on the desk and carefully cracking it open. 

"Start reading," her ghostly lawyer commanded, diving back into the bookcase to begin his own enlightenment in the development of law since his demise.

Lyra cracked open the book, scanning through the reference table in the front. "They have an entire set of laws just for families? Jeez, humans love laws." And when she started reading through the thick volume, the more her mouth swept into a smile. Family law had been her salvation, not civil law! She'd been so stuck on the idea of this being a violation of her civil rights that she had overlooked the fact that it was a complete denial of her family rights.

A frantic knock at the door of the study startled her. Lyra looked up, and meekly called out, "Who is it?"

"You know damn well who it is! Lyra, open this door before I break it down!"

The ghostly orb popped out of the bookcase for a moment, then dove back in to hide itself. With her magic she quickly undid the lock, and Aaron stumbled in, downright terrified that Lyra might do something stupid.

"Jesus Christ, are you alright?! I swear I thought you were upstairs all day and-and I just got so worried!"

"I'm okay," she honestly replied, her voice carrying none of that melancholy that had been there since she arrived in Lazarus.

He stopped in the middle of a sentence. "Wait, you're...okay? How the hell is that possible? When you left the courthouse this morning I ran back here and locked up all the kitchen knives so you wouldn't hurt yourself! And now...you're fine?!" His eyes narrowed at her. "Where did you go today?"

She thought about it for a moment, then decided it was best to avoid suspicion and go simple. "I...I just went for a walk. Thought about how I've been so silly lately, being all depressed and such. Big emotional and mental check, that kind of thing."

"Nobody breaks out of a funk like that without either snapping or taking drugs." Mr Patterson turned to leave, but before he left, he took a deep whiff from the office. "And if I find out that it's you who's smoking cigars in my house, your little pony butt isn't allowed within fifty feet of my books."

The door closed behind him, and the ghost of Clarence Darrow materialized out of the bookcase. "That was too close of a shave. We may need to abandon this office in favor of safer climes."

"What do you mean? He didn't suspect a thing," Lyra rebutted.

The spirit openly scoffed. "He could smell me. His particular magic set is alert and aware that a wandering soul is nearby. His magic knows I'm here, but his conscious mind isn't aware. It's bombarding him with a scent that I wore often during my days, the smell of my favorite Cuban cigars. There's an interesting story that goes along with those cigars, I once hid a wire in one and smoked it in the middle of a defense argument. The ash couldn't fall no matter how much I jostled it, and the jury couldn't take their eyes off of it long enough to hear my defense." 

The ghost chuckled at that little story, but he quickly regained himself. "Now, I've taken the liberty of reading all I can from your friend's law books. But there are a few things that you need to tell me before I can proceed with the best course of action."

Lyra's jaw fell slack, her eyes as wide as plates. "You read all of those books in ten minutes?! I'm only on page three of this book!"

"Hmm, reading takes on a different tone when you have no eyes and can pass through matter at will. As I was saying, you need to tell me what ever you can about this city's situation."

Lyra sat back in the swiveling chair, wondering where to start. She pondered long and hard, and eventually she decided to start with what little she knew about the end of the War. 

"Well, I should say it all started about a year ago. I don't remember much, but I do know that Equestria's army and the human army faced off on a field not far from here. Nopony died, because my friend out there joined forces with one of the Princesses to ask for peace. And...it happened. Everypony laid down their arms, and we ponies withdrew our army. They both signed an agreement not to fight anymore, and once the army left, some ponies decided to stay and help them get back on their feet."

She told the story of the foundation of the Republic as much as she knew it, even grabbing a few books to help fill in her gaps. She told her lawyer about coming to the city, about all the wonderful and glorious sights she had seen. But whenever her eyes looked down from the glory and power of human might and technology, they always saw what got left behind in their desperate bid to prove their worth.

She regaled him with the story of the tour through the city, of the diamond dogs working in the steel mill and the pony shops being separate from the rest of the market. Her story pretty much skipped over Fort Greenewell, and she focused almost too long on the hospital in the Undercity. After that, she skipped ahead to her being kicked out of the bar, and the segregation by species that was so common in Lazarus. The story of her citizenship test came with a few nods from the specter, and her denial before Terran Social Services made him hum in thought. 

After around two hours of doing nothing but talking in a hushed voice to her lawyer, she finally finished her story. "And after I went to the gazebo, that's where you got involved. And you know the rest."

Clarence stayed silent for several minutes, the orb drifting back and forth in front of the desk, pondering a proper course of action. His pacing ceased, and the fluorescent orb took on a greater glow. "I believe I have a plan. But first, you will need something crystalline. Do you perchance have a wedding band or a bracelet set with a gem?"

A wedding band. The words bit deep into Lyra's mind, and the barest hint of a tear shimmered in the corner of her eye. The ghost noticed her discomfort, and he tried to console her as best as he could without the enhancement of form. "I apologize. I temporarily forgot about the recent dissolution of your vows. But this is not something that we can see in court. The people of this nation need you to be strong, you need you to be strong! Now I need you to tell me, do you have some kind of gem that you can wear?"

Lyra thought for a moment, biting back the tears of regret and thinking about what she carried in her meager luggage. "I...I have some diamond earrings. I wore them at my....at my wedding. Why do you need my earrings?"

"Perfect, even better than I expected. I can use your jewelry as an anchor so that I can be present during your trial. And since it is conveniently on your ears, I can whisper to you during the hearings. More importantly around the household, I can use the jewels as a safe place to hide from the necromancer. Have you ever heard of the Hope Diamond?"

The mare shook her head. Certainly a jewel called the "Hope Diamond" had to be some kind of very important and very powerful gem that protected people like the Crystal Heart, the Elements of Harmony or even more recently the Singing Crystal.

Clarence shook himself, and Lyra could almost swear she saw a grimace within the illuminated depths of his energies. "Oh the Hope Diamond. Among souls, it's legendary for being a wanderer's paradise. A demon soul from points unknown took a shine to it and haunted it for nearly six hundred years. The bastard was frightfully territorial, and used his influence to hurt anyone that dared to touch his precious prize. The son of a bitch was finally deported by a pony necromancer fifty years after the War, and his little reign of terror ended. The point of this little tale is that like the fellow who inhabited that gem, I can haunt your earrings and use them to stay stable indefinitely."

Lyra nodded. "I'll get them back in right before bed. What's the next step?"

The orb resumed his stepless pacing in front of the desk. "Step two is going to take almost the entire trial. It's an ongoing event that you must keep going. Step two is to make some friends."

"What? Make friends? How is going out for drinks with my pals going to help my case?"

Clarence laughed out loud, and he explained, "In court and politics, that kind of friend is only a pipe dream for retirement! I mean supporters, sympathizers, politicians, media, reporters! If what you say is right, this case is completely under the table, nobody who could help you knows that you even exist. We have to get this story out to the public, we have to see where the people stand on this issue, not just nine Justices. You said that there are hundreds, maybe thousands of your oppressed countrymen in this city and in this country. We need to get them to fight for their rights alongside you. Once voice can be silenced with little quarrel, but ten thousand cannot be ignored so easily! And step three, step three is to get into the minds of the Justices, I want dossiers on each one of them! Personal backgrounds, political and religious affiliations, who supports them, who's in their pockets, and whose pockets they're in. Hell, if one Justice likes to drink Earl Grey Tea before each hearing, I want to know about it."

He ceased his endless pacing, zipping over to rest right by her muzzle. "Lyra, you didn't sue the nation of Terra. You didn't stand up for rights that are being denied, you picked a fight with the biggest boy on the block. And like a fool you rushed in headfirst, hoping that your opponent wouldn't knock you out with his best moves. You got lucky the first time, and you survived with everything but your nerves intact. Well, now it's round two, and we're going to treat this like what it is, a fight to the finish. So, we're going to find you some friends to stand behind you, then we're going to train you on what your opponent's weak points are. And just when the brass bell rings, we'll hit him with our best shot! And when we find some people with the gumption and the guts to stand behind our cause, then we'll go into step four."

Clarence backed away from Lyra, shivering with anticipation of this grand and glorious plan that he had coming together. And if it was executed down to the letter, it would turn heads all over the Terra, Equestria, Kali'Gryph and parts unknown all across the world. "What is today?"

Lyra quickly checked a little calendar on the desk. "Thursday."

"Then we have court tomorrow. After that, we take the weekend to enact our plan. But for now, we read." The ghostly orb flickered over to another bookshelf, and bobbed there for a second. "You will need to read this one as well."

Her golden magical glow grasped the book from the shelf and placed it gingerly on the desk. "Psychology?" Her shoulders drooped, and Lyra propped up her cheek with a hoof. "Let me guess, I have to get inside the human mind?"

"More than you can imagine, madam. And this one too." He motioned to another book on the shelf, one labeled: The 1960s and the Civil Rights Movement.


**************************************************************


Morning in Lazarus, and Lyra prepared herself like she was going five rounds with Brawny Hooves, Manehattan's most famous prizefighter and equine pugilist. The alarm next to her bed rang early, and her hoof slammed down on it before it could finish its first round. Hopping out of bed, she immediately started stretching out.

Downstairs at the breakfast table, she shoveled food into her mouth with a vigor she had lacked for so long. Dumping a glass of milk down her gullet, her host and temporary roommate walked in with the morning paper hot off the presses. 

"Woah there, slow it down or there won't be any left for me."

Swallowing half of an apple whole, she barely took the time to look at him between reading the pages of a family law book and forcing down the mountain of food on her plate. "Can't talk, busy."

Aaron snatched a bagel from her pile, taking a bite as he sat down across from her. "So, working on your game plan?"

"You could say that. I've actually got an argument now, with valid applicable points." Her hoof raised up to scratch at her ear, where her diamond earrings sat in freshly made pinpricks.

"When did you start wearing jewelry?" he asked. 

"This morning. It helps with self image and confidence," she replied, innocently covering up the fact that she had a damned attorney haunting her left earring. 

"Don't draw attention to it, pretend as though you wear proper ladylike accouterments all the time," her secret lawyer whispered to her ear.

Aaron leaned back in his chair, unfolding the Lazarus Phoenix and checking out the top stories of the day. "So, do you need me to walk you down to the courthouse today?" he asked with a tone like a parent talking to a school aged child. 

"No thanks, I've got everything under control today," she replied sweetly, honestly flattered and glad that he would offer.

He peered over the edge of the paper, raising an eyebrow. Without further questions, he accepted her choice and shrugged it off. "M'kay." He looked back down at the paper and went silent, his only noise being the crunch of the bagel in his hand. 

With her breakfast finished and some odd semblance of her old self regained, Lyra grabbed her books and her papers, setting a course for the courthouse just across the suburbs. 


***************************************************


The setting was the same as the day before. The courthouse lay almost entirely empty, with the gallery most derelict than a ghost town and the only people present being the nine Justices, a bailiff/chaplain to open the proceedings, Mr Bennett at his table, and Lyra lugging her heavy saddlebags over to her own table. 

Little did anyone in that courtroom know except the lone pony that another person was present, though only present in spirit. The ghost of Clarence Darrow peeked out from his anchor in the mare's earring, taking in his surroundings with a grimace of some small degree of disgust. In his time he had defended the rights of the most damned souls in the highest courts of the most powerful nation in the world. Cities whose grandeur was only surpassed by ancient Rome and Athens in her prime had been his stomping grounds. The marble columns, the rosewood benches and statutes of blind justice; symbols of order and power that this dilapidated little shanty of a "courthouse" lacked. It wasn't the finest place to hold a hearing, but it sure as hell wasn't the worst place he had ever attended one. He could have shuddered as he remembered the Dayton courthouse in Tennessee. 

Damn that William Jennings Bryant, that trial wasn't even about John Scopes or the idea that he taught evolution after the first day! It had all boiled down to the social divide between the modernist Christians and the traditionalist Christians, (no such thing as a declared atheist back then). Social divides, always making trouble. Just like this trial, it would probably start just like the Scopes Trial and focus on the actual petitioned issue, then drift off on some tangent as both the petitioner and respondent ran out of steam.

Clarence quickly banished his reminiscence of the Scopes-Monkey Trial, peering out of the crystal facets of his bejeweled camouflage. By the easy swagger in his step and the way his confident smile seemed to make Lyra go on edge, Clarence guessed this man to be the respondent representative and Attorney General that Lyra had been talking about last night. Bennett, yeah that was his name.

Bennett sipped from his ever present coffee mug, leaning on the corner of Lyra's desk as she spread out her borrowed books and papers. 

"So Heartstrings, I went down to the community center yesterday afternoon. Attended a very informative seminar on the Heimlich Maneuver. You know, just in case you start choking again today." He chuckled to himself, taking a sip from his mug.

Clarence could have laughed inside of the diamond earring, whispering to Lyra, "Don't take it too personally, it's just offense-defense banter. He's testing you right now to see how confident and prepared you are. Classic move, even Cicero of Rome did it in his trials. Quite literally the oldest trick in the book. Say something snarky back."

Lyra quickly tried to think of a comeback. She didn't know what in the world the Heimlich Maneuver was, but by context she guessed it to be similar to the Hooflick Procedure. "David, you're such a sweet and intelligent person for being so thoughtful about my safety. Oh wait, I thought this was a lying contest. Nothing personal," she finished, giving him a recalcitrant smirk.

Bennett took a step back, mildly surprised at the complete turn around from yesterday. He had figured yesterday when he left the courthouse that Lyra wouldn't even show up today, and the only thing that would be left of her was a couple aquamarine hairs and a bad memory.

Without another word Bennett retreated to his stand, shifting his papers around and stealing glances over at Lyra, wondering what surprises she was hiding up her sleeves.

The bailiff cleared his throat. "All rise for the honorable Justices of the Supreme Court of the Republic of Terra."

Just like yesterday, the nine Justices filed in from a backroom, taking their respective spots along the stand. Once seated, the bailiff called, "Be seated. God save the Republic of Terra and this honorable court. May he bless us with swift, righteous judgement." The bailiff took his own spot in the corner, and Chief Justice Haliburton drew out her docket.

"We will continue to hear argument this morning in case No. 1 of the Terran Judiciary, Lyra Heartstrings against the Republic of Terra. Mrs Heartstrings, you may begin."

Lyra rose from her seat, levitating a few papers along with her. "Thank you, Madam Chief Justice," she said boldly.

Almost immediately she noticed a vast difference between their reactions today and their original take on her. The day before the Justices had loomed over their stand with scrutiny and disapproval, judging her every actions. But today her bold declaration and the swagger in her step seemed to pique their curiosity, and more than one Justice actually leaned forward, somewhat eager to hear what she had to say.

Clearing her throat, she leapt straight into her argument. "I apologize for my exemplary evidence yesterday, at the time I did not have quite the resources to form a proper case. But today, I come before the court with definitive evidence and precedence to prove that Republic Social Services were beyond their rights when denying me the right to adopt a child simply because of my heritage."

She levitated a hefty book from the desk, flipping through the pages to find her mark. "If it pleases the court, I would like to present the Multiethnic Placement Act of 1994. I will henceforth refer to this as "MEPA". From my understanding, MEPA was voted into place by American lawmakers to curtail the length that children spent in foster care and orphanages by opening up new possibilities to which a child might find a suitable home. This act prohibits an agency from denying adoptive or foster care placements because of a child or adoptive parent's national origin, color, or more relevant to my case, race. And what's more, MEPA prohibits race, color, or national origin as a basis for denying approval of a foster or adoptive parent."

"Good, that's good. Just like we practiced," Clarence whispered to her ear. Clearly the Justices thought so as well. Justice Brockmann was bent over his notes, giving slight nods. Justice Nakamura and Justice Rutherford whispered back and forth, and Chief Justice Haliburton remained stoic as usual.

Lyra stopped pacing in front of the Justices, placing her book back on her desk. "I submit to the court that my denial of adoptive care was based solely on my race and national origin. A clear violation of my rights as a Terran citizen and a violation of my basic civil rights as a person. To deny this privilege, no this right is to proclaim that I as a pony am not a person. And by allowing me to become a citizen, by allying yourselves with the nation of Equestria, the Republic of Terra has made an official proclamation declaring that you recognize us ponies as people!"

Justice Sikes interrupted her with a statement. "Mrs Heartstrings, the good book declares that Man alone is capable of becoming a thinking person. Most of the people of this nation subscribe to a Christian theology, and your assertion that all people of this country must recognize you as a person is flawed. It's the individual's choice to recognize another person, not the state at large. As of yet, there has been no legal declaration of your claim. And furthermore, that law applies to ethnic differences between human beings! There is no legal precedent to say that a pony such as yourself is to be considered an ethnicity."

"And so we find the bad apple," Clarence murmured to Lyra.

Lyra narrowed her eyes at Justice Sikes, taking a seat behind her desk. "Petitioner rests for the duration."

"Very well," said Chief Justice Haliburton. "Respondent, you may begin your argument."

Mr Bennett rose from his seat, and despite the extremely valid evidence presented, he still looked calm and cool. 

"I would like to begin by applauding Mrs Heartstrings on a well delivered and well studied argument. Indeed, the MEPA doctrine of 1994 was made law to expedite the process of adoption and make sure no child was left too long without a family and a home. Now, it is underneath us as people to question whether Mrs Heartstrings is a person or not. As a personal belief, I welcome the thought that these fine and exemplary creatures are people in their own right. But the law is not so lax, and as I recall, MEPA was not accepted by popular society like lawmakers believed it would. It was African American social workers who were the major proponents of repealing this law, saying that it threatened to distort and ultimately deprive a child of their heritage. African American children would not know their race's struggles as their own, Hispanic children would not appreciate the depth of their culture. And thus I say that we as human beings must not think along lines of creed, but we must think along the lines of protecting our culture and heritage! Any human child that is removed from the body of the human populace is bound to think of themselves as more of a pony than a human. It's the dilution of our racial identity that is the true threat to the Republic and indeed the human race as a whole! If that child is placed into pony hands, we lose her as a human being. The pony race may gain a two legged pony, but we lose a daughter of mankind."

At that point, the divide among the Justices had never been clearer. Those who had accepted Lyra's argument due to precedent stayed silent throughout Bennett's response. And those who had supported Bennett lightly nodded their heads and whispered between each other.

But Bennett was far from finished. 

"Let it not be forgotten that it is not only the child's identity and morals that are at question, it is her health and well being that are the primary focus! Although I personally recognize Mrs Heartstrings as a person, she is still a horse. A species which is far removed from the human race on the family tree. And though this is true, any man or woman in this city that has handled or farmed horses in the old days can tell you that disease between our species is incredibly common."

Bennett whipped out a paper from his attache case, reading it by rote. "Brucellosis, leptospirosis, Lyme disease, anthrax." He said that last word with dreadful emphasis, knowing the cords of fear it would strike in any person that would hear it. "These are all diseases that can be common in equines. Mind you, these diseases are often deadly to children and young adults, and I don't need to tell you about the deadly potential of an anthrax infection in a child."

And indeed he did not have to press the point. Late in the year 2016, during the breakout war between Iran and Israel, it had been all too common to hear on the evening news about teams of black operations soldiers breaking into secret labs and destroying entire strains of weaponized anthrax. And to hear that this deadly pathogen was common among ponies was terrifying to some of the Justices. Justice Dailey eyed Lyra with a small amount of repulsion and disgust.

Lyra threatened to boil over. None of those diseases had ever been reported in Ponyville, the town had a health record cleaner than the rest of Equestria! Well, except for that food poisoning scare that happened that one time when Applejack made those muffins. But she couldn't remember the last time anypony had ever reported a case of anthrax. In fact, one of the things that earth ponies did when breaking new ground for fields or building was to spread lime and ashes everywhere to kill the toxic pathogen.

"I object to that!" Lyra shouted.

Clarence immediately started screaming in her ear, "You don't object in a Supreme Court hearing! He's playing dirty, but we can play dirty too. So just calm down, and let him finish!"

The Justices stared at Lyra, glaring at her. Her face flushed red, and she sat down, withdrawing into a tiny little ball. Several minutes and no outbursts later, it ended. Bennett reached the limit of his argument, and the Justices withdrew for the day. 

Walking down the street, Lyra could almost feel the scorn coming from her left ear.

"Let me tell you this right now so I don't have to repeat it, we do not have outbursts in court! An outburst by either party will drive away the people you need on your side!"

"But he was saying a bunch of crock! Nopony in Equestria has any kind of disease like that! And I sure as heck wouldn't make that little girl forget her heritage! I'd never raise her as anything but a human!" Lyra replied, venting her frustration on Clarence.

"Then we say that on the next appointed trial day! Or, we could go back to the house, do our research and prove it at the next hearing. Or even better, we get some expert to say it for us. Once we find some sympathizers, we'll get some subpoenas written and hopefully get some professional opinions on our side. Nothing sways a jury or a judge like the word straight from the horse's mouth."

"What? But I already said that stuff!"

Clarence stopped himself to explain, but quickly caught on to his own pun. "Right, horse, I forgot for a moment. Anyways, Bennett is using cheap scare tactics to get his way. It's not unethical, but it is frowned upon heavily by the true professionals.  But we can counter that, we can show that we are the bigger man by using less coercive arguments and getting actual proof. If I didn't know any better, I would say Bennett has some kind of a deal with the Justices. Did you notice how they didn't ask a single question during his argument?"

"Yeah, you're right. Maybe we can raise that as an accusation?" Lyra wondered. It was true, the entire time Bennett had been prattling on with his rebuttal, he hadn't backed up a single word of his response, nor allowed the Justices any time to ask questions. With his germ scare, he had completely silenced the Justices. And the thought that Lyra would stop that child from learning about her heritage and embracing her humanity must have been downright enraging.

"Damn Bennett's good!" she snarled in frustration.

"He's a greasy, bottom feeding, scare tactics using, sophistry spewing, rhetoric poet, snake in the grass who could charm the pants off of a nun. All qualities of a despicable human being, but a damn fine lawyer. If I ever elected to not represent myself, I would look for a man like Bennett. But Bennett is not the enemy here. Remember Mrs Heartstrings, it's the Republic who we're fighting toe to toe here, and the Republic just found itself good back up early on. So what we have to do is redouble our efforts on researching precedent while finding our own back up."

Lyra sighed in mental exhaustion when she crossed the threshold of her temporary house. Dropping off her saddlebags unceremoniously at the door, she trotted into the kitchen, fetched a soda and crashed on the couch in the den. Taking a sweet sip of orange soda, she sighed loudly. "So, now that we're actually saying stuff that applies in court, what's the next step in your diabolical plan for world domination? How do I 'find my friends'?"

The spirit of Clarence zipped out of her earring, meandering over to the liquor cabinet and passing through a bottle of scotch, wishing he could taste it. "Even though his clout and expertise makes the necromancer the most obvious first choice, from what you say he is completely distanced from the political procedure. We'll have to pass him by."

Lyra rolled her eyes, thinking about her only real friend in this city being completely inaccessible. Hell, with his shining character reference for the pony race, his irrefutable scientific knowledge and high political standing, the trial could be over today. "He has a name you know. His whole life doesn't revolve around talking to the dead."

Clarence flickered from a dazzling white to a shade of annoyed red. "Since Aaron can't help us, we're going to have to start low. Dig down deep on the societal totem pole to the disgruntled and disenfranchised workers that keep this country afloat and rattle their cages. Tonight when all the factories and shops close, you're going out for a night on the town. Find anyone who is just as disgruntled about the situation of this city as you, and recruit them to your cause. Did you read that book on the Civil Rights Movement?"

Lyra leaned back in the couch, taking a sip of her soda. "I got to about the part when the "negroes" started boycotting businesses. By the way, what's a "negro"?"

Clarence wondered how to explain it in polite terminology. "You've seen Justice Brockmann?"

"Yeah, he's the dark man. Are there other colors of humans? 'Cause I've only seen pink ones and a few tan ones. I've been wondering why you guys aren't so colorful. I mean, ponies run the entire rainbow, and gryphons and minotaurs can have lots of colors. But then I figured that sleeping underground for so long must've done something to your colors, like some creatures that live under logs. What color were you?"

Clarence had to wonder what the hell was in that orange soda, because right now Lyra was acting like a drunk philosopher and asking some very racy questions. "Back in my later years of living, many would have called Justice Brockmann a negro. A negro is an outdated term that is typically used in a derogatory manner. Back in my days, being a negro meant that certain people in society looked down on you for the simple reason that your skin was dark. Humans in general aren't a very colorful people, we're limited to anywhere between extremely pale to very dark brown. No really bright skins out there. I myself was considered "white", as is the necr-...as is Aaron. And back in the old days, the black communities suffered through social obstacles very similar to what your people are going through in this country."

The ghost settled on the couch next to Lyra, wishing to the greater spirits that he could light up a thick Cuban cigar and relax  with his client. "You know, the blacks had it much worse. They couldn't look another man in the eye without risking their own lives." He fell silent, his mind only focused on one event in his past. Ossian Sweet, claiming before a jury of his "peers" that he only acted in self defense when he shot into that angry mob of white folks, folks that were at his home with the intent to harm his family and drive them out of their "pure" white neighborhood. He killed a man who had beaten on his door, screaming that he would murder everyone inside. 

And Clarence defended him, saying that Ossian, his family and the friends he had brought over to defend their home were simply afraid for their lives. In the end, Clarence had succeeded in an acquittal. But it never cleared the fact that Ossian Sweet was the one on trial, and not one of the murderous men who came to kill him that night ever saw a minute of jail time. The prejudice and racism of the times would ensure that the only people to ever pay for that crime were Ossian Sweet and his whole family.

And for the sake of Lyra, and for her people, and even for the sake of the tiny granule that was left of mankind, he hoped that the little bit of soul mending that Aaron had done would keep the humans of this city from repeating their history. He hoped that people wouldn't find some excuse to try and evict those creatures. Or even worse, he prayed silently to the greater forces of the universe that no person in this city got an itch to tie a hangman's knot.


************************************************************************


It had been a dreary night at The Watering Hole.

The ponies and other creatures that bothered to spend their hard earned bits and dollars to call themselves patrons silently sipped down their various beverages. There was never a song to be sung, nor any boisterous laughter at some joke. Everypony was always too exhausted or too down beat to even try. Just like last night, and every night before that.

The Watering Hole wasn't some place to go and relax and knock back a cold one like Abraham's, nor was it a dignified communal hall like the officer's club in Fort Greenewell. But you could get a drink here, if you weren't too stingy about quality or the company.

High Spirits ran his ratty bar rag down the length of the bar, just to pass the time. And as always, the rag only succeeded in smearing the dirt and grinding it deeper into the grain of the wood. The barkeeper sighed, tossing his faithful rag over his shoulder and waiting to serve a drink to somepony if they had the thirst. 

The few ponies sitting in the barstools might as well have been statues, staring blankly off into an unknown distance, only occasionally breaking their statuesque silence to take a sip of beer. High Spirits shuddered, even though this place was practically full almost every night, it might as well have been a ghost town. Well, maybe that was a bit of an overstatement. Certainly a ghost town had more life than this place. 

If somepony had come up to him a year ago, back when he was waiting tables at an establishment in Appaloosa, and said that he was going to be serving drinks in a ramshackle place like this, he would have laughed. But when these humans literally sprang out of the ground, he'd been among the first to hear those rumors that they needed just about everything. And in his book, liquor and a place to drink it in were a part of everything. And besides the rumors of opportunity, he'd heard the rumors from the returning soldiers that the humans did things very different from Equestria. They didn't have immortal leaders, kings, or nobility who always had the "wisest" and final say on any issue that came before them. No, they voted for a leader. And whenever they wanted a law instated, they voted for that too. Tax increase? Vote for it. New possible design for a road sign? Vote for it. Repeal a law that seemed like a good idea at the time? Votedy vote-vote. They voted for just about everything.

It was the rumors of a fair and righteous democracy that had ultimately lured High Spirits out of Equestria and into the Republic as a part of the first wave of pony immigrants. To be an actual part of the political process, to have his voice heard in a government built by the people. And now, a year later, he found those rumors of a system of equal government to be just that, rumors. 

"Only fair to the humans," the barkeeper muttered under his breath. He resigned himself to scrubbing off the smudges on the bar again, only smearing them even further.

And then she came in.

The door to the bar swung wide open, and a unicorn mare walked into the establishment. But instantly the barkeep focused on her. It was that mare from a few days ago, that fiery spirited girl who had been denied the right to adopt a human baby. The one who had paid for a drink, then stormed out saying she was going to do something about the humans. And instantly she turned heads all over the bar. She walked tall, with a determined look on her face. Her step was sure, and she wasn't dragging her hooves on the floor like anypony else that came in.  

Taking a stool at the bar, the mare sat down and looked around. 

"Er, what can I get ya, m'am?" the bartender asked.

The mare turned her attention to him. "I need a beer, a shot of whiskey, and a few good ponies."

"Well," High Spirits answered, "I can do the first two, but I don't even want to know why a young lady like yourself is looking for 'a few good ponies'."

The mare huffed, turning back to the bar patrons. "Listen up everypony!" she shouted to the stoic crowd. All eyes raised up from their glasses, wondering who dared to break their meditative melancholy. "My name is Lyra Heartstrings. None of you may know my name, but that's not important right now. A few days ago, I tried to adopt a human child out of the goodness of my heart. And I was denied that right! That day, I came into this place and saw that I wasn't the only one being oppressed because of who I was. And that night, I swore that I would do something to change that."

The permeating stoicism began to melt into curiosity, and more than one creature leaned intently towards Lyra, wondering where she was going with this. 

"And you know what?" she continued. She had their attention now, and now was the time to execute step two of Clarence's grand plan. "I did something about it. I didn't sit there and drink myself stupid. I didn't whine about how things were unfair in this country. I took action, and I sued the Republic of Terra for my rights!"

This set the whole room to awe, and whispers floated between the bar patrons. One lone mare, daring to stand up against the moral and intellectual might of the most ancient civilization in the world? She's crazy, some whispered. She's a brave pony, others said. Most thought that she was a mixture of both the former and the latter.

Lyra drank down her shot of whiskey, needing to fortify herself for what came next. "I may have stood up for my rights, but I can't do it alone. I need as many people to stand up for theirs as I can get. I need people to stand up and show that we are people to be reckoned with! I need all the voices I can get. So, who's with me? Which one of you has the guts to stand up and say, "I deserve better than this"?"

All across the crowd, many lost any courage that they had been holding on to, and meekly turned back to look down at the table again. No, there couldn't be any courage to stand up, because they would be in the wrong. Their races had done the ultimate injustice to humanity, and the humans seemed content to regularly remind them of that fact. Having the courage to stand up would simply deepen the wounds that they had rent over two thousand years ago.

But when courage failed, sometimes it was bullheaded stubbornness that prevailed. And of all the races that seemed to be the most stubborn and immovable in that bar, it was the tough and tenacious diamond dogs, worn down to the edge of their minds and hearts when all they had left was their wills. And among them, one stood up.

A dog with the pointed face and sandy coat of a coyote stood up. "I deserve better than this," the dog said, holding a paw to his sheenless and filthy coat.

And with the ice broken by the brave and stubborn dog, a pony stood from her seat. The same pegasus mare from the night when Lyra had been denied her rights. "I deserve better than this," she declared.

"I deserve better than this," a voice behind Lyra said. Spinning around, she spied a look of determination in the barkeeper's eye.

Out of a crowd of nearly a hundred, only three stood up to stand beside her. But it was three people she had on her side.

Lyra nodded to her three supporters. "Good. Now, I want to discuss something with you. Something that could drastically change the Republic for everybody."

Taking a table in the corner, Lyra sat down with the seeds of her growing movement, telling them what was wrong with the legal system of the Republic, and what they could do as citizens to fix it.

And when the clock struck midnight, and all the other patrons had left, Lyra decided it was time to leave as well. There was no court tomorrow, but there were plans to enact, and Clarence had once again decreed that Lyra would use tomorrow to study.

She learned the names of her supporters, and what they did. Honey Cup, the pegasus mare, was of course an actress, denied the right to perform her art in human theatre. With the ghost of her lawyer still in her ear, he could make the proper assesment and assign each one to where they would need to be. Since her voice and her presence was her greatest asset, Honey would be using it more than anypony else. High Spirits was the local barkeeper that catered to all races in Lazarus, his establishment would make a good base of operations for the movement. The diamond dog was Foxtrot, a steelworker that ranked fairly high in the hierarchy of the Stoneclaw pack. And from what Clarence kept whispering to her, Foxtrot and his dogs were going to be key parts in this movement.

Of course, before they all departed to go their separate ways, they agreed to meet in secret again later that week to develop their plan of action further. And one last thing had to be done. Lyra dictated a letter, written anonymously by High Spirits. Two of them would be sent out to the two places that needed to be informed the quickest for their plan to work. 

And when they left, Honey Cup took one letter and slid it under the door of the offices of the Lazarus Phoenix, flitting away to avoid being seen at this time of night. And when she passed it by on the way back to Aaron's house, Lyra slipped the second letter under the door of the door of Ed Burns and Lisa Eddin, the radio hosts of Lazarus Public Radio.


**************************************************


That morning, the two radio hosts shuffled out of their bedrooms, taking their spots at the breakfast table. It was still pre-dawn, and they were waiting for their newest associate to show up so they could begin the morning block of radio.

Aaron had been right, their shows had been much better after they hired Melody Medley. Her worldly experience combined with a quick to joke attitude, extremely quick learning, and exceptionally smooth voice made for a perfect jockey. And Lisa found a fast friend in the spunky pegasus mare. Of course with two girls at the helm, Ed was starting to feel a bit outnumbered (which only made the comedy elements even funnier).

"Hey hey hey! What's the news, my dudes?" the mare greeted as she practically bashed in the front door. Somehow she always had energy to spare at any time of the day. Perhaps it was that mind boggling pegasus metabolism, maybe it was all the sugar she slipped into her coffee. But no matter the cause, Melody was always on top of her game.

"Morning Mel," Lisa rasped, still too exhausted to match the mare's energy.

The blue coated mare slipped into a chair, swiping a slice of toast with her wing and the entire jar of jam. "So what's the agenda? Hear any choice bits of info that might catch a few ratings? Eddie, come on baby, give me something to work with!"

"Jeez Mel, simmer down. We've got half an hour until we start up the show, I think we've got some time to think."

The table quieted down, and Mel suddenly remembered something. "Hey guys, I think the mail carrier's gettin' a bit lazy. Left this on your doorstep." She flicked out the letter she had found on the stoop, tossing it over to Ed. 

Ed grunted a thanks as he tore it open, expecting some bill or the first piece of junk mail in over two millenia. His fatigue melted away almost instantly, and his eyes only got wider as he kept reading. "This has got to be a prank," he said to himself.

But the more he read, the less likely that seemed. Pranks could usually be seen through, they were always along some lines of being some horrendous disaster or complete Onion style satire. But this, this was so outlandish that it would have taken a professional fiction writer on drugs to conjure up.

"Lisa, Mel, do either of you have any experience in politics?"

Mel scoffed at the assertion, she'd been a comedian in her early career, and a columnist ranter for some smaller newspaper before she immigrated out west. But Lisa nodded. "Well, I did investigative reporting back in college a couple of times. Sometimes I did reports on city governments and student councils."

"Then you're on this." He passed the letter over to Lisa who read it with Mel.

"Ed, what in god's name is this?" she asked after reading the opening lines.

The radio host flashed a triumphant grin. "Our biggest scoop yet."
> Human Interest
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Only a few days since she had returned from the human heartland, and yet it seemed like months ago that she said goodbye to that one mare who had once upon a time been the only pony she had ever wanted more than life itself.

Bonbon had a business to run. And right now, it was the only thing keeping her from running into the living room, drawing all the shades and crying her heart out. Another batch of butterscotch candies found their way into their wrappers and out to the front display, resting next to mountains of taffies and heaps of caramel chews. In the few days she had been back, the custard mare had set herself into a frenzy of candymaking, one that was usually only seen around Nightmare Night. 

Bonbon grabbed the next tray, sliding them off the counter and into the display case. She was hardly even cognizant when customers would come in, buying their candies from the unnaturally quiet mare. The customers usually kept quiet themselves, seeing how close Bonbon was to crying at any given moment. Nopony had the courage to ask the mare what was wrong, but most had seen the way she had come back to town, completely alone and bereft of the unicorn who was always at her side.

Grabbing another tray of chocolates in her teeth, Bonbon hurried them up to the front. And passing over an odd floorboard that stuck out a half a centimeter over the rest, for the first time in her life, her hoof caught on it. She'd lived in this house and run her business out of this very kitchen for almost a decade, and never before had she tripped and fallen because of that board. Bonbon lurched forward and fell heavily onto her belly. The tray of chocolates slipped from her teeth, flying across the kitchen. For a brief moment Bonbon watched her hard work floating through space, the delicate little chocolates slowly spinning and rotating to their own gravity, the seconds ticking by like hours. And with a crash that must have been heard across the street, the pan and all its contents smashed into the wall, leaving a dent in the wall and clattering down to the floor.

Bonbon sat down on her haunches, tears welling up in her eyes as despair finally took over the last refuge in her life. If this had been a normal day, back before those humans had ever decided to poke their faces out of that hole of an underground city, Lyra would have been in there in a flash, making sure everypony was alright.

A quick stream of tears ran down her cheek when she thought about Lyra. And in her mind, the scene in Lazarus replayed over and over again. Looking Lyra right in the eye, and telling her that she just couldn't take it anymore. All the conspiracies, all the troubles, all the craziness in general that came as a part of the full package of Lyra. Always taking her public shame with a smile on her face while inside she died a little. And every time that they failed it seemed to set them back farther than any other pony in Equestria.

"Hello? Is everypony okay? I heard a crash."

For a moment Bonbon's heart fluttered, hoping that the sweet and mellow voice was Lyra, coming in to say she was sorry, that she had somehow convinced the Republic to drop the case and caught the next train home to Ponyville. But her disappointment was doubled when a screwy eyed pegasus peeked into the kitchen, a look of concern on her face.

"Bonbon? Are you okay?" Derpy asked, coming over to help Bonbon back to her hooves.

"I'm fine," Bonbon sniffled, on the verge of breaking out in a river of desperate and frustrated tears.

And though her eyesight wasn't the greatest in the world, Derpy could clearly see that Bonbon was far from fine. And since Lyra hadn't been seen in town since she left for that soiree, she guessed it had to do with her. "You're not fine," she remarked, gently escorting Bonbon to the living room in the back of the house. 

Sitting Bonbon down on the couch, Derpy comfortingly lay a wing across her back. "Now tell Auntie Derpy what's wrong," she said.

Bonbon sniffled again, grabbing a tissue from the coffee table and loudly blowing her nose. "I...I made a mistake," she said to her good friend.

Derpy frowned, wondering what kind of mistake the careful and ever cautious earth pony could have made. "How? What did you do? And where's Lyra? Everypony in town is worried about you two. You always look like you're gonna cry, and we haven't seen Lyra in days. Did something bad happen while you were away?"

Bonbon looked at her with red scored and tear laden eyes. "Yeah, something really bad. Lyra... Lyra did something to make a lot of people angry. And I... I...." Bonbon couldn't finish that sentence. Instead, she looked over to the small stack of papers on the coffee table, nodding to them. She choked out another sob as Derpy grasped up the official looking forms, poking through them. 

"What did she do?" the wall eyed pegasus asked as gently as she could, setting down the mostly filled out divorce papers. Derpy had been through those kinds of forms before, right before she ended her marriage with her first husband and shut the door on that part of her life. And all that was missing from Bonbon's forms was Lyra's signature and her own signature at the bottom of the page.

"Lyra was just being herself!" Bonbon snapped to Derpy, her frustration finally boiling over. "She was being a nosy, bullheaded, self righteous jerk who can't think of anypony besides herself! She did something that made the entire human race so gosh darned angry with her that I'll never be able to show my face around the Coppells without feeling guilty! You know about our problem, right Derpy? The fact that astronomical chance has worked so much against us that neither of us could have a foal? That not even...bucking magic," she swore with reserve, "could help us."

The pegasus barely had time to nod before Bonbon kept right on with her tirade. 

"We wanted to adopt a filly," Bonbon said much more quietly, her angry rant subsiding as a fresh batch of tears rolled down her cheeks. "W-we were going to wait until after our vacation. But no, she couldn't wait at all! She had to have a baby right then and there! We saw this beautiful, sweet little human child over there, and Lyra, being herself, decided that she wanted it! She had to have it, and so we went and we got these stupid visas," Bonbon directed her anger to a small laminated green card on the coffee table, "and we tried to adopt. But they said we couldn't, just because we were ponies."

The custard mare stopped to catch her breath, the next words stuck in her throat. 

"Is...is that all?" Derpy asked, trying to get a word in edgewise. "You got turned down and now you want to divorce Lyra?"

"Derpy, I can tolerate a little prejudice. I'm a filly-fooler, and I've been one since high school. And ever since I started dating Lyra people have singled me out because of who I was. It's nothing new to me, and it's nothing I can't just sweep out the door. Lyra is the reason I want to divorce Lyra. After we got turned down, she went behind my back and filed to sue the Republic."

Despite her extremely limited understanding of the absolute enormity of such a statement, Derpy could understand that whenever court got involved with anything, more often than not every party involved was going to suffer for it.

"She couldn't get her way here in Equestria, so now she's taking it out on some of the most powerful people in the world. And I know for a fact that the human justice system is going to beat her to a pulp. She doesn't know when to quit, and some day that stubborn attitude of hers is going to get her killed. So yes, I made a mistake. My mistake was saying hello to that lonely unicorn mare from Canterlot who walked into my shop one morning. My mistake was letting Lyra into my life. And now..." She once again looked at the divorce papers sitting on the coffee table, a shake of uncertainty in her voice. "Now I want try life again without her."

Derpy stared with her google eyes at Bonbon for a moment, and then something extraordinary happened. For only the second or third time in years of knowing the pegasus, her eyes leveled out. And for the first time Bonbon had ever seen, Derpy glared at her with a look that could shoot daggers. So intent was her hateful stare that a small corner of Bonbon's mind was absolutely terrified.

"Don't you ever say things like that," the normally sweet and silly pegasus hissed. "Yes, Lyra is a stubborn mare. Sometimes to the point of it being harmful to herself and ponies around her. She is my friend, and though she's stubborn and sometimes does dumb things like that, Lyra more than makes up for it! She's sweet and kind and always wants the best for everypony! And you know what? I love Lyra like my own sister. But that's nothing. You loved Lyra enough to want her to be your special somepony forever, to be there every morning when you woke up with a smile on her face. When I moved here from Cloudsdale, I knew you were a shy mare who never spoke her mind, and ponies walked all over you for it. But I saw that change when you met her, and after you fell in love I saw you smiling more than I ever did before. Never, EVER, say that you want to erase all those happy years you spent with her! You say you made a mistake, and I agree with you."

"Derpy, I..." Bonbon stuttered.

"You think your mistake was meeting Lyra, that maybe you screwed up a little when you kissed her for the first time. You think that you did something bad when you slipped that ring on her horn and said, 'I do'. Bonbon, I know mistakes. Most of the time, I just don't know what went wrong. But I never let my mistakes hurt me. Bonnie, I think you did make a mistake. But I think your mistake was leaving Lyra all alone back there. You made a promise to be there, in good times and bad. And you were the one who broke that. It's up to you to decide where you really went wrong. And if you really think that Lyra is the only reason why your life is so bad right now, by all means." Derpy slid the divorce papers closer to Bonbon, laying down a pen on the dotted line. "I'll even express mail it for you," she said coldly.

Bonbon had fallen completely silent. Any traces of tears on her cheeks had dried away, and now she sat far more stunned than anything else. Here sat one of the silliest and most happy-go-lucky ponies she had ever known, as serious as death itself. And in those dandelion  eyes glowed a passion for her friendship with Lyra, and her friendship with herself as well. Derpy truly loved both her and Lyra, almost as much as she loved her own daughter.

Bonbon picked up the pen in her teeth, slowly leaning towards the dotted line. Something in her mind was telling her not to do this, that every rose had a thorn. And that Lyra was just a budding rose with a few more thorns than most others. The nib of the pen hovered over the papers, quivering slightly as Bonbon considered her past with Lyra. The honeymoon in the tropics, that moment when Lyra had insisted that she levitate Bonbon over the threshold.  Picnics in the park under the shade of their favorite oak tree. Singing along and dancing to Pinkie Pie's often spontaneous songs. Her gentle and passionate touch. Even the day she dragged a drugged human through the living room. And with a sigh of resignation, she set down the pen.

"I can't do it," she said in a hushed whisper. "I can't sign it. And... and I can't blame Lyra for doing what she thought was right. And even though she never thinks for a minute about the consequences.... I can't blame her for being herself."

Her sullen melancholy was broken when Derpy suddenly squeezed the air out of her lungs with a hug. 

"You did what your heart told you to do," Derpy whispered to her. Letting go of Bonbon, her pretty dandelion eyes spun out of control, a sign to Bonbon that all was once again well within the kingdom of Derpy. "Now let's go clean up those chocolates. Oh! Does the five second rule count after-" she quickly whipped her head over to check the clock on the wall. "Fifteen minutes? I hope it doesn't, because I am starving!"

A tiny smile cracked on the corners of Bonbon's mouth. "You know, I think that's always been more of a guideline."


*********************************************


"GOOOOOOOD morning, Lazarus! This is Melody Medley here to kickstart your day with a double shot espresso of truth and laughs. One part kick in the teeth, one part wake up and smell the coffee! Speaking of double shots, I knew a guy named Double Shot once, and he sure loved to give me a double shot. And he sure as hell wasn't a barista! Hey-o! My fellow deviants and I are going to do things a little different today. So we're going to start with some news to rock you back to dreamland. Lisa?"

Lisa cleared her throat, holding back her laughter at the mare's overly energetic and frankly racy opening. If President McGoff was hearing this stuff, there was a good chance he would reform the FCC to watch this one venue of public entertainment like a hawk. "Thank you Melody for such a vivid and overly graphic insight to your personal life."

"You're welcome!" the blue mare called from off-mic. 

Once again Lisa cleared her throat, wanting to make history with this revelation. "This is political correspondent Lisa Eddins, reporting today on a ground-breaking claim made by a person or group of people as of yet unknown. An anonymous tip has led this station to believe that an active government cover up is underway concerning a legal issue brought before the Supreme Court early last week. Our source lacks true credibility, and our requests for affirmation of this claim to government officials have not been responded to. What we do know is that a pony by the name of Lyra Heartstrings has brought an issue of civil and family rights before the Supreme Court. We have not been able to reach Ms Heartstrings for commentary yet, and once again all government officials are either in the dark or in denial of this particular issue."


************************************************


And across Lazarus, in a cozy, unassuming town home of pony make and design, a certain arbiter of the law sat at her kitchen table in a bathrobe, sipping at a cup of coffee. Pure black coffee, as black as her withered heart, some would say of Abigail Haliburton. But that was always just a spiteful and unfair judgement upon her as a person, heaped on her by the criminals and degenerates she had put behind bars, and worse, back in her days as a circuit judge in the twenty-first century.

Every morning it was the same story with her relatively joyless existence. Wake up, wash up, (and those were pretty much the only 'ups' in her day) dress herself, eat some breakfast and then spend the day looking stern behind a desk under two hundred feet of rock. Life had become a little more interesting lately, what with Heartstrings and her case coming through the court. For once she actually had to don her ceremonial robes and sit behind the bench, silently judging this heated debate between human and pony. This battle of wills between man and animal. Or at least what was once an animal. But today, on a Saturday morning, there was hardly any reason to get out of bed at all.

No court on weekends, and by tradition the Justices took their weekends to psychologically evaluate everything that had transcended in the past week (aka, decompress and prepare themselves for another barrage next week). Abigail took another sip of her coffee, and when she set the cup down, she had to think. The ponies; the very reason why the human race was even roaming the world, the reason why she was staring at morning light blazing in through her kitchen window rather than waking up to the strictly timed schedule of the fluorescent lights in the cold, featureless dormitories in the Undercity. And now they wanted the same things as human beings. 

Part of her wanted to watch as the ponies and other creatures marched out of human territory with their tails between their legs. That part that had been born in the first days of the War, the person who wanted to stand proud and defend her race to her dying breath. That part of her that was vehemently xenophobic wanted to see Heartstrings get crushed by Bennett. And so far, Bennett was doing just that.

But... the other part of her wanted to see this through. That part of her that had been born years before the War. That part that always open minded, yet kept to precedence. Impartial, fair, yet heavy handed. That part of her that embodied the law, and the reason why Tyler McGoff had approached her the day after his election and offered her the position as Chief Justice. But this part of her was always the part that dominated, and it was the cause of her loneliness and misery. Who could ever care about a person who never followed her heart?

And with these thoughts plodding through her head, Abigail wondered if anything could ever cheer her up. She'd heard good things about the radio lately, something about a new jockey in the studio. 

Like most denizens of Lazarus, she kept a small radio in her house. Conveniently, hers was on the kitchen counter. Flipping it onto the only active channel, she listened in to the morning show. 

"...believe that an active government cover up is underway concerning a legal issue brought before the Supreme Court early last week. Our source lacks true credibility, and our requests for affirmation of this claim to government officials have not been responded to."

Abigail's face blanched, and she frantically thought about who could have squealed about this. Worse yet, every house in Lazarus had a radio. And since the judiciary had been trying to keep this low, as few people as possible had been informed about it. Which meant that despite her branch's efforts to keep this under wraps for the safety and integrity of the Republic, now the world was going to know.

And the worst possible thing to ever happen in any case, the media had latched their claws into it.


******************************************************


Lyra hummed contentedly to herself, flipping through the pages of a thick book. Once again she had managed to utilize that natural pony cuteness to get a few books from the Undercity archives. Aaron had clutched his heart when she trembled her bottom lip and stared at him with the biggest puppy dog eyes that she could muster, begging her to stop before it gave him a heart attack. And as usual, her ghost-lawyer had seen this as a possible strategy in court, using her adorable pony looks to catch the Justices off guard.

Funny, she had never thought herself as anything except rather plain looking. But apparently from the human perspective, the big expressive eyes, quick smiles and bright colors of ponies made them irresistibly cute. That was all irrelevant though, and it objectified her people. To be thought of as cute and cuddly when ponies were a proud race with many good qualities other than looks was almost an insult! Well, it could be worse. Apparently, humans thought that gryphons looked pretty imposing with their predator parts and their sharp claws. And when shown a picture of a Taurassian dryad in a book, Aaron thought the rather odd looking forest nymph to be incredibly attractive in comparison to a human being, even blushing at the creature's bare chest.

All a matter of perspective, and her goal here was to see from the human perspective, get into their minds and learn the quickest way to win over their hearts. And for that reason, the law books were set aside today in favor of basic psychology books. And as an added bonus, a few books that she wished she had years ago, basic anthropology. From simple observation she had determined that human beings followed a different social group formation process than ponies. For a pony, as long as there were other ponies (or even other sentient, friendly creatures) around to be a part of a herd with, they were fine and dandy. But humans, no no. They picked and chose their companions for specific reasons, mostly similar social status within the larger group or to possibly gain something from bonding with a fellow. As much as some of them denied it, they craved hierarchy and would always listen to a "superior".

Lyra flipped the page, skimming over the bonding folkways of primitive human societies as opposed to "modern" social conventions.

She spied a little flicker of light from the corner of her eye, a certain ghostly presence returning from his haunting jaunt into the city. "Learn anything?" Clarence inquired.

"A little. Humans like you base trust on similarity. If I can act or look more like a human, it could make the Justices and the public like me more. You get anything juicy?"

The ghost floated over to the "hidden" liquor stash behind the bookcase, passing through the scotch bottle. "Through some selective snooping in the homes of the public, I've learned that your case is a hot topic and a hot button issue. Many people want to know more, and reporters are already lining up at government offices trying to get answers."

"What do they actually think about it?"

Clarence scoffed, taking his place next to her on the couch. "Most don't care. Not enough information to really catch 'em. Some have taken a shine to it, and others are sticking to a more conservative approach and want you out of the city entirely. Have you been pursuing a scientist or doctor for scientific testimonial?"

"No," she confessed, "all the doctors and scientists are down in the Undercity all the time. And I need a human escort just to go down there."

"Well do you-" Clarence stopped suddenly, diving into the couch.

The door to the den swung open, and Aaron poked his head in. "Hey Lyra, I just got back. I'm going out tonight, so you'll have to fix your own supper. By the way, there's a few agar plates under a light in the kitchen, for the love of all that is holy, do not open them!"

Lyra cocked an eyebrow. "Why?"

The mage human glanced around unnecessarily for any unwanted listeners. "I'll let you in on a secret. I've been hankering to get back into a lab for months now, so I went downstairs to check out the biology divisions, see if anything needed to be done. They had a few things that they needed tested a couple of times, so I scooped up a couple of jobs. Those agar plates are a controlled mixture of human gastrointestinal flora, pony gastrointestinal flora, and a cross of both. It's a little precaution we're taking for the Mayflower Initiative, just to see if zoonotic transmission of internal flora has any pathogenic repercussions on both the human and equine immune systems. You know, since humans and ponies are going to be in close contact in the colonies. Wouldn't do to start a colony near Manehattan and suddenly people of both species start getting diarrhea just from being around each other."

Lyra cocked her head. "...wha?"

He chuckled to himself, enjoying the opportunity to revel in his old profession once again. "Just a forewarning, some of those plates could contain lethal pathogens. So don't touch any of them!" At Lyra's horror he laughed again. "Just kidding! Or am I?" His face became grim as death for a moment, before switching back to a mischievous grin. But before he ducked out the door again, he sniffed the air, narrowing his eyes in Lyra's direction.

She smiled sheepishly. "I'll start on nicotine gum tomorrow."

"You'd better, I might bring some people over, and the last thing I want them to smell in this house are those damn phantom cigars of yours!"

Lyra winced at the word phantom, and she wondered how much his subconscious was really telling him about her little secret. "Have a nice time! I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead!" she murmured as he left. Each time he walked in on her, he got a little closer to actually discovering what was bothering him. He had actually looked right at the cushion where the ghost hid himself!

A flicker of light rose from the cushion, and the ghost picked up where he left off. "As I was saying, have you met a doctor or scientist to refute Bennett's claim?"

"No, I haven't found a scientist. Or a doctor. Face it, I don't have a single connection in this city besides a couple of downbeat ponies and a diamond dog."

The attorney growled. "Then get to it! That's one of the biggest obstacles, and here you are worrying about the littlest ones!"

"Hey! A lot of little solutions usually take care of one big problem!" Lyra retorted.

"Unless you get someone to testify on your behalf, that big problem is going to be one of the many things the Justices will consider against you. It all boils down to who can scare them the most, or who can put out enough irrefutable facts to make themselves look good."

A knock at the front door interrupted Lyra's study session and her argument. The heavy steps on the stairs told Lyra that Aaron was answering the door, but after a minute he shouted back into her room. "Lyra! There's some people here to see you."

"People?" she shouted back, cocking an eyebrow.

"Mostly ponies," he clarified.

She glanced at her lawyer and shrugged. Trotting easily to the front door, her friend nodded to her and left. Peeking out, Honey Cup's dignified smile met her at the door. "Lyra, darling! I have the most wonderful news to share!"

Lyra levitated the morning edition that was next to the door, one that Aaron had yet to read. "I know, front page. Now everybody in the Republic is going to know about who I am and what I'm standing for."

"Going to?" Honey Cup said with a grin. "Lyra, those papers got shipped out as far as Gladstone this morning! And even if they don't read the paper, it's all over the radio! Now, I'd like for you to meet some friends of mine."

The pegasus mare stepped aside, and a whole crowd of ponies smiled and waved to Lyra. 

"There she is! The mare who stood up!" somepony in the back shouted. The veritable herd of her fellows stomped their hooves and cheered.

Putting up a meek grin, Lyra sidled up to Honey Cup. "Honey, who are these ponies?" she whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

"Your supporters, darling! After last night, I stayed up late, wondering how I could get this moving in the right direction. So my coltfriend and I went door to door this morning, seeing what ponies thought about you and if they wanted to join the movement!"

"And this is the result?" Lyra whispered back. She'd expected something like this to happen over a course of weeks, and here it had been less than a day since she had recruited two ponies and a dog to her side.

"Most certainly! We shall, as you say, rattle the cage, stir the nest! All we need is somepony who wants to be our head, somepony who will be our figure and the star of our show. And we have decided that with your daring and your smile, you could change this country for everyone. You'll be the Spitfire to our Wonderbolts, the Celestia to our Equestria, the Hurricane to our Pansy!" Honey monologued, obviously lost in the historical moment.

Dr Patterson suddenly leaned against the doorjamb, popping a peanut into his mouth. "Funny story about Hurricane, I knew her dad. Best buds, me and him. So what's all this?" He waved his free hand at the crowd of ponies. 

Lyra bit her lip, wondering if it was safe to tell him. "Promise me you won't be mad," she asked of him.

His curiosity began to fall. "Okay, that's never the best thing to hear."

"They're my...supporters. They're gonna come and sit in the courtroom, give me moral support and all that." It was only half a lie. They were supporting her, and some of them would fill the courthouse to provide that desperately needed moral support. But that was only a tiny part of the role they were going to play in this.

Aaron cocked an eyebrow. "Why would I be mad about that? If they would let me in without a damn Tesla field, I would too. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to be somewhere." He carefully picked his way through the crowd of ponies, walking down the street as if nothing had happened. In his defense, it was far from the strangest thing he had ever seen.

A certain dead attorney leapt into her left earring. "This is too perfect," he chortled to himself. "Invite them in, maybe we can get this kickstarted a little earlier than expected."

"Invite them in?!" she hissed back. "There's like sixty of them! Aaron will kill me!"

"Who's the expert here?" he responded.

Lyra's will crumbled, and she softly cursed under her breath. "Honey, bring 'em inside. I need to talk to everypony." 

Motioning back to the crowd, the group of ponies excitedly murmured to one another, wondering what heroic speech she was about to regale them with, what grand plan she had to change the way humans and ponies lived and cooperated.


******************************************


The one time Commanding General of the United States Armed Forces, briefly the Commanding General of the Terran Armed Forces, and current Commander in Chief of the Republic of Terra threw the morning edition of the Lazarus Phoenix across his desk. President McGoff glared at the woman standing stoically in front of his desk, clenching his fists under his chin until they lost all color.

"Leave!" McGoff shouted to the pair of Terran soldiers that had brought her in. The soldiers -deadly, trained killers with many commendations and a few medals for valor and bravery between them- flinched heavily at McGoff's ire, zipping out the door of his office with as much dignity as they could muster.

With his privacy assured, McGoff jabbed a heavy finger at the headline. "Tell me, Abigail, what the fuck is this?"

The Chief Justice swallowed hard, trying to shrug off the intimidating glare and maintain her legendary composure. "My job, Mr President."

"Is that so? And does your 'job' entail keeping vital information from the highest authorities! How is it that I, the goddamned President of the Republic, the leader of the entire human race, had no idea that you were threatening the stability of our delicately balanced system and had to hear it this morning from a pony when I went jogging!"

Abigail swallowed once again, trying to find a good excuse and wondering what level of the judiciary actually had to do that. "Sir, we believed that it would go through the proper channels-"

McGoff cut her short. "And yet it didn't. And here we are, barely one year into our inception as an independent state, and we are accused, rightfully, of a cover up!" The President took a few moments, leaning back in his chair, taking a deep breath and wishing he had time for a cigarette. "I trusted you," he began in a much more pacified voice. "I trusted that you wouldn't make your job about politics. That despite the fact that you hold ultimate power over the interpretation of law, you wouldn't let it get to your head."

She tried to interject. "Sir, it hasn't. This was just a-"

McGoff silenced the Chief Justice with a wave of a hand. "Don't think that you can get off the hook by calling this a mistake. Because I don't care if it was a mistake. I know exactly what it was, it was an assertion of power. This was not just a little 'slip up' or you forgot to tell somebody about a pony suing the very nation I've worked so hard to build and maintain. No, you went and took this completely into your own hands. In any other profession, that might be considered noble, you know, by lessening the burden on the rest of us. Not here, Abigail. Not. Here!"

"In all fairness, sir, it was none of your business. This is an issue of civil and family rights brought through the judicial system, where it belongs. This is not a question of usurping your power or destabilizing the Republic," the Chief Justice retorted, a touch of venom in her voice. She was in the right, the justice system was her ring, and McGoff thought he could dance into her ring?

McGoff jabbed an accusing finger to Haliburton. "Don't you tell me that this isn't my business! You have no idea what the real men and women who run this country have done, and are still doing, to keep these people afloat! I've had to make deals with kings, queens, princes, dukes, even fucking entities that are normally beyond human comprehension, just to make sure that my people sleep well at night! Do you realize just what you've done?"

Abigail shrugged, fully well knowing what the implications of this were, and fully knowing that McGoff was preparing to regale her. "If I did not know, I would not be stupid enough to go through with the case."

The President groaned, slamming a fist down on his desk. "Heartstrings is a pony, are we clear on that fact?"

"I don't see how-"

"Answer my goddamned question!" he snapped to the Chief Justice, a simmering vat of rage brewing in his eyes.

The Chief Justice pursed her lips, nodding slowly.

"Very good," McGoff continued. "And ponies come from Equestria, correct?" Again, she gave a light nod in response. "And Equestria is ruled over by the lovely, fair, and overall fairytale Princess Celestia. Celestia and I, despite being so buddy-buddy in the public eye, don't quite see eye to eye on a few issues. She knows for a fact that we don't hold her loyal subjects as the same social class as our own people. But, as a form of reparations for her aggressive actions in the past, it is tolerated. Plus we get all sorts of Equestrian goodies by the trainload for the cost of materials, with the difference coming out of her pocket. But now, all of Equestria is going to know, and demand that she take some kind of political action!"

The Chief Justice's eyes began to open a little wider as she understood the global implications. "If this can boil over so quickly, why don't you sic your pet wizard on them? The Equestrians trust him enough to hear Patterson out on anything." 

The knuckles cracked in McGoff's hands. There had been times in the past year where the mage had been indispensable in  getting the Princesses to sign over on trade agreements and other international issues that would be heavily favored towards the Republic. And with his little 'friend' at his back and superstitions running rampant with the plains dwellers, the man had been able to get the bison to concede several hundred square miles of their land to the Republic for the railways. Not to mention, there had been a time when his "pet wizard" was the closest thing he ever had to a son.

"Even Patterson wouldn't be able to stop the business owners and merchants of Equestria from hiking their prices or refusing to deal with us at all. And then there's Mayflower. If the ponies of Equestria knew the depth to which we are denying their countrymen their rights, we could lose every single colony that we have chartered with the crown of Equestria. And I don't even want to know what Prince Alanon is going to do when he finds out his loyal subjects are rightless peons. If you manage to fuck this up, our insurance policy goes right down the damn drain. Do you understand me?"

The absolute depth to which McGoff had considered this astounded the Chief Justice, and she nodded wordlessly. 

"Good," McGoff murmured. "Now, you're going to absolve this little issue as cleanly as you can."

"I can push for the petitioner to drop her case," Abigail suggested. 

"No," the President murmured. "The cat's out of the bag, and by Tuesday every human and pony between here and Canterlot is going to know. And even if Heartstrings did drop the case, someone else would be right behind her with even greater demands. Listen to me now, if at any point sufficient information is given to suggest that one side's victory will be of greater benefit to the Republic, I want you to vote that way. I don't care if your gut tells you to go the other way, you cast your lot in with the Republic. Now go out in the hallway, and tell my boys to escort you back to your house."

Maintaining her silent stoicism, the Chief Justice gave a single nod, turning to the door. But before she could reach the door, McGoff had one more thing to say. "And Abigail, if this manages to go completely FUBAR, I'm going to have Smitts drag you to the Senate floor and impeach you. And after that, you're going to have a sudden rush of patriotism and sign up for the military, where you will willingly volunteer to serve in a coalition outpost on the northern frontiers of the Crystal Empire. And according to the crystal ponies, the monsters get even meaner up there." The President of the Republic flashed a quick grin. "Have a nice day, Chief Justice."

And for the first time in several months, a chill ran down her spine. Follow the President's orders to the letter: keep her job and save the international image of the Republic, all at the minor cost of her dignity and her soul. Go against his orders and follow her strict legal protocol: get rewarded with gulag, literally getting thrown to the wolves and whatever other monstrosities were plaguing their allies in the Crystal Empire. All the while maintaining her honor and impartiality.  

Neither choice held much appeal.


******************************************


Lyra stood on the tips of her hooves, fighting for an inch of breathing room in the crowded office. It was the largest and most appropriate room in the house, and right now it was packed head to hoof with ponies, crammed in like sardines in a tin. Even the ceiling space was at a premium with the number of pegasus ponies fluttering around.

Clearing her throat, she called them all to order. "If I could have your attention!" she shouted. Instantly, dozens of pairs of pony eyes were on her. And unlike her days on stage, right now she felt a cold feeling sink down her legs. "As most of you know, I'm Lyra. And most of you also know why I'm here today. I uh, I sued the Republic because they denied me the right to adopt and raise a human child. I stood up for my beliefs and my rights. But I see I'm not alone when I say that this country should become a better place for everyone!"

She noticed how the crowd reacted to her choice of words. Lyra hadn't gone and simply said 'everypony', she had said 'everyone'. This was not simply about humans versus ponies in some kind of contest of wills, this was about improving the lives and livelihoods of every person in the nation. And so many of those ponies had made the perilous trip across the untamed wilds between the Equestrian frontier and the borderlands of Terra, braving bandits, scorching heat, wild storms and leaving their old, prosperous lives behind, just so they could have a chance to better someone else's life.

And once they got here, they bore the brunt of the monumental task of rebuilding at least a tiny microcosm of human civilization. They had been the ones to sleep in tents and flimsy shacks during the dead months of winter, the howling winds not bothering the humans in their well built homes and in their underground citadel. They were the ones who brought enough food and supplies to feed armies across the wild lands, only to eat dry hay for every meal. 

"So, who here is willing to go that extra step? I know you've all been through so much since coming here, and you've given everything you can to help those people. But this isn't about whining about getting our fair share, this is about making it right with them and making their lives better. All we have to do is take that step in the right direction. Who here is willing to take that step with me?"

Scores of hooves rose up, and a determined grin was on everypony's face. Lyra nodded, indeed this was going quicker than she had anticipated. The Civil Rights Movement had taken years to gather steam, and here she had a group of followers within a week of the first strike.

"Good," she said to the crowd. Now was the time to enact step four of the grand and glorious plan to change this country, maybe even change the world for the better.
> Dog Days
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Foxtrot looked over his assembled masses. 

Diamond dogs of every size, shape and color had gathered here in a place that seemed so sacred to the humans. A place where one could find food, warm things to drink, and respite from the nearly tortuously long shifts that wore the dogs down to miserable piles of sooty fur. A special place -an almost holy room- in their factory called "the break room". 

Most of the Stoneclaw pack was nearly eight hours into their shift. And since most of the humans had taken a break to get some lunch in the market, the foreman begrudgingly said that the dogs could use the break room, for once. Nearly a hundred dogs, a pitiful remnant of a pack that once claimed hundreds of members, one of the richest lodes of ore in the northland, and one of the greatest symbols of wealth in a diamond dog pack: seven of the rock-eating stoneworms. It was those titanic, sixty foot long worms that chewed out the bigger chambers and deeper tunnels in their dens, and unknown to most surface dwellers, the greater mass of surface level gems came from the excretions of the stoneworm, giving them that 'pre-cut' look.

But of course, the stoneworms had been highly sensitive to vibration, and when the people of the Republic claimed the dog's iron mine as their own, the dynamite used to blow the warrens of the dogs had startled the worms so badly that they had dived down several miles into the Earth's crust. With most of their leaders killed in the blast, and their stoneworms far beyond any hope of recovery, the Stoneclaws had given up any vestiges of greatness as a pack.

Glory through numbers and strength were no longer an option to the once mighty pack, and Foxtrot knew this to be true. Only through adaptation could they ever survive, and even here, where they had roofs over their heads and a stability almost unheard of in their society, the diamond dogs still faced a bleak future. Some had even been talking amongst themselves, saying that they should gather up their meager supplies and what was left of their dignity and strike out into the wild lands again. Maybe they should never have come crawling up to the gates of Lazarus in the first place.

But Foxtrot knew better than that. Out in the wilderness, they were only going to find greater despair and most likely their deaths. He knew that the future of his people lay here, in the civilization that the humans had built from the brilliance of their minds and not the brute strength of the alpha dog.

"Good to see that so many have come!" Foxtrot called out across the crowd. The cacophony of dog voices died down as they all turned their attention to their superior. A few cringed in their spots; back in the old days of the pack, the dogs were only assembled when punishment was going to be meted out, or when the pack was preparing for war. But Foxtrot's friendly tone and posture, combined with the odd gathering he had called, only served to confuse most of the pack. 

Foxtrot hopped up on top of a cafeteria table, folding his arms behind his back and pacing up and down the length of the table, like he had seen some human commanders do around their troops. He hoped it made him look even more important, despite his lack of shiny medals and a spiffy uniform, other than the trademark vest and collar.

"I brought you all here today to talk about something big," Foxtrot assured his pack. The fact that he wasn't going to thrash them brought relief to those who cringed in fear, but only deepened the permeating confusion. Diamond dogs weren't too keen on the concept of talking things out. "We are oppressed!" he declared, grinning at the chance to use such a word. 

"Diamond dogs like us work, and work, and work for the humans. We come in before the sun rises, and only get to leave when the foreman is too tired to shout orders!" Many sad faces throughout the crowd gave knowing nods. The long hours and sometimes dangerous conditions in the steel foundry had taken their toll on the hardy Stoneclaws, and some nights they had to carry the most exhausted in their number back to their communal houses. "They leave hours before we do, they get to leave for doctors when they get hurt, and they get paid more for less!"

Foxtrot pointed a paw to a grizzled old dog with the face and fur of a wolfhound. "Poor Salty too old to be working so much. I tell this to the boss, and he laugh! He says that Salty's experience make up for it!" Foxtrot turned to another member of the pack near the front, a younger female with the yellow fur over her belly swollen. "Roxxy going to be a mother, she shouldn't be working like this! I tell this to the boss, and again he laugh! More pups means more workers when they grow up!"

The more indiscretions that Foxtrot listed, the more the Stoneclaws growled their agreement. A few of the younger, more brash members of the pack cracked their knuckles, eager to enact the eye for an eye policy that was diamond dog law. The older hounds silenced them, wondering how Foxtrot intended to change all of this. 

He had their full, undivided attention now, as well as their unswayable loyalty. "I myself was a victim of all this." He spun on his hindpaws, intentionally showing the jagged scar on his right leg to the crowd, one he had earned when a cart of ore had spilled and a jagged stone had torn through his leg. "But a few days ago, I met a pony. A pony named Heartstrings. And she told me that the humans are treating us like this because our ancestors fought them, and they remember it. Humans don't trust us, humans oppress us, because they holding a grudge! But Heartstrings, she told me that she doing something about it. She not going to fight humans, she going to argue and debate to make them treat her fair!"

At the mention of Lyra's tactics, many dogs cocked their heads. Argue? Diamond dog packs didn't argue! Whenever a dispute between packs, or even cliques inside of packs, became evident, they fought it out. Might was right. Dominance always succeeded over logic.

"Heartstrings tell me that to argue with the humans, we need to think more like humans! And to think more like humans, we need to leave behind the old ways!" And with that declaration, gasps rang out through the room. Tradition was what held a pack together, other than the ever present hierarchy of dominance. "We need to leave behind the pack," Foxtrot continued, "We live in human land now, and we are citizens here. It is time to make something new, something that is more like what the humans and the ponies do. The Stoneclaws were a great and powerful pack, but we not great and powerful anymore. And I say we move forward instead of dwelling in the past! We will make something better than a pack!"

The dogs panted in anticipation, at the edge of their seats. Something that was better than a pack! The very idea tickled their imaginations, and thoughts of becoming greater than any of the wild packs raced through their heads.

"Something better than a pack!" Foxtrot declared again. "Where we vote for leader. Where we decide as a group who will lead! Where old age means rest, and hard work means just rewards! Something that will make sure that no dog sleeps in the gutters or passes out from exhaustion in the mill!"

The entire room of diamond dogs leapt to their feet, clapping and barking their excitement about this new concept of chosen leadership, ensured health and safety, and happiness for all people. 

But with one sentence, one fell blow, all of Foxtrot's force and verve was smashed. 

"What we call it?" some dog in the back shouted to the front.

Foxtrot raised a finger as if to make a grand and glorious declaration, but found that he had no fancy words left in his repertoire. He slouched over, tapping his chin with a claw. Indeed, what to call it?

"Anyone have idea?" Foxtrot said to the crowd, looking for any single word that would properly encompass their new group.

Every dog in the group soon lost himself in deep thought, scratching their heads and trying to recall any fancy words that might work.

"Oh, oh, how about 'party'!" a young hound with the face of a pug suggested. 

"No, not serious enough," Foxtrot retorted, scratching his chin in deep thought. He sat down on the edge of the table, wracking his brain for anything that might work. "Something....where people that work in same place....come together, to make things better," he thought out loud, meshing his thick fingers to demonstrate.

"Meeting?" someone else suggested.

Foxtrot scowled at the dog, feeling that to be completely obvious. "No, that's what we're doing right now."

"Oh, how about 'clan'!" a long haired fellow eagerly said.

"Nope," Foxtrot flatly denied. For some reason, he felt like the humans wouldn't be so glad hearing about a clan of dogs in their city.

"Crew!"

"Crews small, we need something bigger!" Foxtrot said back.

"Syndicate!" one of the more well read (and one of the few that actually knew how to read) suggested.

That word, though fancy enough to hopefully impress the humans, was unappealing. "No, that makes us sound like criminals."

"Get-together-to-make-things-better...group?"

Foxtrot just stared incredulously at the dog who had suggested that. "That's just stupid! We need a good name for when people like us join together for common goal! How hard can this be?! We built entire underground dens with tunnels held up by one column, but we too stupid to figure this out!" The coyote faced dog wanted to smash his head against the table. Here he had planted the seed of a grand and glorious idea, and now they couldn't get past square one because because they couldn't think of a name!

But for some reason, Foxtrot's mind drifted to human industry, more specifically, pipe fitting. Sure, diamond dogs in the past had never needed plumbing or pipes for anything. But when they had been introduced to plumbing, the inner engineer in every dog took a shine to it. But what was niggling at his mind was what humans called it when two pipes came together. When two pipes came together to make a flow, one joined it with a .... 

"Union," Foxtrot said aloud. The front row of dogs all looked up from their deep thoughts, utterly awestruck at the simplicity, yet absolute perfect fit of the word. "Union!" Foxtrot repeated loud enough for the whole room to hear. "We will call it: a union!"

And over in the offices, the next building over, Chester Mackenzie, president of the steel company, felt a cold chill run down his spine for no discernible reason at all. Feeling as though the ghosts of a thousand conservative statesmen had suddenly cried out in agony, he shrugged it off.


***********************************************


Across the city, far from the centers of industry, another meeting of the movers and shakers was underway. Lyra stood proudly before her assembled mass of ponies, but unlike Foxtrot and his dogs, Lyra and her group were beyond the problem of simple nomenclature. For now, the problem was organization, and an ultimate plan of action.

But conveniently having a civil rights lawyer always present had neatly taken care of the need to form her own plan, and the only way it could have been better was to have Martin Luther King Jr himself at her side. 

"To change a society, we have to be a part of it, whether you like it or not, and whether the humans like it or not!" Lyra proclaimed to her followers. "And to change human society, we have to work our way in. We have to prove that we can play their game, and play by the rules that they made." 

The minty mare levitated a book in her magical aura, showing the cover to all the assembled ponies. The 1960's and the Civil Rights Movement elicited a small gasp from all the ponies, and their worries as to how they would stage this societal revolution quickly evaporated. Aside from a few minor scuffles in the days of the tribal division, there had been no real civil movements in the past. The ponies of Equestria just didn't know how to stage a protest or get a petition going, not in any way that would work here.

"This book details how groups of people in the ancient human nations fought for freedom and equality. Now, I want everypony to skim through it, and pass it along. If you can get to a library, or can just get more books like this, do it!" Lyra passed the heavy history book to a pony in the first row, who immediately started perusing a chapter on sit-ins. He excitedly whispered to his friend next to him, and already Lyra could see something hitting the headlines in a few days.

Clearing her throat, Lyra launched into Mr Darrow's grand plan. 

"Now, if we're going to change this society for the better, we're going to have to split up our efforts." Again her horn flared to life with her yellow magic, and a large sheaf of paper levitated into the air, along with a bold marker. "The best way to go about this is a five-pronged plan of action on both the government and on the population. The first three steps are to get the government, the last two are going right into their homes and hearts."

She marked down a big number one, along with a quick drawing of judicial scales. "First, we need to hit the judiciary. Challenge the laws that hold us down, bring 'em to court and fight tooth and nail. That's my turf, I've got that covered."

A big two quickly joined it, along with several little stick figure humans. "Second, the legislation. This is the most important place we have to hit. If we fail here, it could take another century before we can build up the guts to try again. That's why most of your efforts will be dedicated to this flank."

A number three was quickly scrawled on another piece of paper, along with a single human stick figure, but with a stick figure phoenix above his head. "Third, the executive. I don't know how we're going to hit the presidency, but we've got to figure out a way to make sure that President McGoff won't veto anything that the Senate passes on to him. So, we're taking a rain check on McGoff."

Separate from the government flank of the great pony civil rights plan, Lyra scrawled a four onto another paper, along with a stick pony and a stick human shaking hands/hooves. "This one is going to be the hardest one to do. This part of the plan is to improve our public image with the humans. I know, it's going to be hard since we're their oldest enemies and we'll also be staging protests all over. But this is something everypony needs to do, this is something that should have been done the moment you got here from Equestria, and it's the ultimate goal of what we're trying to accomplish here. This step is to make some human friends. And not just political allies or supporters, I mean friends!"

The crowd murmured to themselves about how the humans had always put up too much of a stone wall to let them be their friends. 

Lyra sighed, sitting on the edge of the desk. "I know that seems like a difficult thing to do, because it will be. But our goal here isn't to bully them into treating us fair. What we're trying to do is prove to them that we aren't so different, and that we can help each other if we try. We're trying to prove that we aren't enemies anymore." Lyra's thoughts drifted back, back to certain time in Ponyville, when she had first learned the nature of human beings, and the reason for ponykind's existence. 

"Have any of you ever talked to a human as anything but a coworker, or just as a courtesy?" Most of the crowd shook their heads. Earning the trust of a human being was a hard thing to do. And there were so few in the world that could truly say they empathized with humanity. But, there were a few. Lyra took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Does anypony know any crystal ponies?"

A few hooves tentatively rose, and more than one pony murmured that they had visited the Crystal Empire in their more prosperous days. Back when they had the time and money to take such trips.

"Have you ever talked to a crystal pony? Have you ever asked them what it was like to live during such a horrible time? When everything they knew turned against them and tortured them? Have any of you ever wondered what it felt like to lose centuries of time, and wake up in a strange world? If anypony in Equestria understands what the humans are going through, it's the crystal ponies. And if any of you know any crystal ponies, you'll know how they feel when they are confronted with their past and their future. They're frightened, uncertain, and doubting whether they'll even live to see another year. A lot of them lost friends and family because they just couldn't help them. Now think for a moment, the human race went through twice the absence of the Crystal Empire, and they weren't enslaved by a dark wizard, their entire species was wiped off the face of the Earth by Discord."

Waves of guilt ran through the crowd, and many ponies were reminded of why they had not taken action in the first place. The humans were in a fragile state of mind, and they had every right to be angry with ponykind and the world in general. So what was the point of deepening the wounds, throwing salt onto the fresh cut slashed into their racial memory?

"And you know what?" Lyra continued, gaining a little volume. "They need us to help them. They need us to offer our hearts to them in friendship, no matter how much they deny us. I know many of you came out here to look for new opportunities, but some of you came here to make amends, to make their lives better. And we can do that by lending a hoof in support, by being there as a shoulder to cry on, a friendly smile to lift up their day. We're not here for us, we're here because we need to be there for them."

A mist of tears entered Lyra's eye, and she thought about her reason for being here. To be a caring, loving mother to a lovable little human being who needed someone to be there.

"We have to become the ponies that they need us to be, the kind and loving people that makes Equestria the model of a tolerating society to the rest of the world. And here we are, bitter, callous and acting like whipped mules. And I say, shame on us! We need to focus on this stage because it doesn't just help the humans, it'll help all of us. So, if you have any questions on how to make human friends, all I can tell you is to be your real self."

Lyra slid off the desk, looking over the crowd of ponies with a smile. They were just a tiny fraction of the number that she would need, but they were a damned good start. "So, any questions?"

A hoof rose only a few rows in, and Lyra nodded to the questioner. 

"Yes, um, you said there were five prongs to your plan, but you only gave four. What's the fifth?" he asked curiously, rubbing his neck with a hoof and shrugging.

"The fifth flank," Lyra replied calmly, "is a last resort. But step five is easily the most effective. Step five is to hit them where it hurts, right in their wallets. If the politicians won't listen to us, they have no choice except to listen to the complaints of their businessmen. And the Stoneclaw pack are the ones who can help us the most with that area. Now everypony gather into groups of about five or ten, and discuss the ways we can organize protests, stage sit ins, and make some human friends. We'll all reconvene tonight at the Watering Hole."

Outside the study, leaning quietly to the wall with his ear to the door, Aaron listened to Lyra's big plan. He knew something was up when sixty ponies had shown up at his door looking for Lyra. So, he had walked down the street and waited a few minutes, then looped back around and snuck back in to his house.

Leaning back from the door, he grinned and chuckled quietly to himself, walking back out to the street. 

"I knew she was up to something. And I can't help but feel that you're in on this too, as much as you want to deny it," he calmly said through his spirit link to the other realm. Almost immediately, he felt the chuckles of a ghostly presence in response.

I've spent enough time around the human race to know when they need a push in the right direction. Besides, this happens more than you think, in ways too subtle for the material mind to readily pick up on. I am not a being of instant gratification, but this will be good for your kind in the long run.

"Lyra Heartstrings, civil rights leader," he mused aloud. "Hm, maybe they'll give her a statue in the park with her own inspiring quote at the bottom. By the way, I noticed a huge change after she made a little trip to the Crystal." He said nothing more, and nothing more needed to be said. For the goddess seemed to have gone unnaturally quiet, possibly even fleeing momentarily into some kind of extradimensional safe haven to avoid further conversation. With a grin he knew his passive accusation to be entirely correct, but frankly he didn't care.


*********************************************************


Another day, another stack of papers.

Anita was working the desk today, and in fact for the rest of the week. There were seven registered social workers in the government run TSS, the Terran Social Services. And any given day only two or three, if any, were needed to go out into the field and do home inspections, counsel new parents, make sure that each newborn child in the city had been properly immunized and had readily available health care, etc. 

But today was a desk day. So that meant that like every other bureaucratic government worker in the nation, she had to spend the entire day under two hundred feet of solid rock in a tiny little room that made a twenty-first century office building seem like a magical fantasy land. Funny really, how actually living in some kind of a magical fantasy land put things into a weird perspective.

Scrawling her cursive name at the bottom of a form and quickly throwing a stamp of approval on it, the social worker leaned back in her desk, folding her delicate fingers behind her head. The wall in front of her was just a blank slab of concrete, and she strongly considered getting maybe a motivational poster or a landscape poster, just to liven it up a little.

"Hey Janet," she called over the cubicle divider. "You didn't happen to get the Hildeberg baby's case, did you?"

A woman with curly brown hair and a homely figure peeked over the divider. "No, I think Juan has that one, said it's another magi."

"So where does that go on a form? Birth marks? Deformities?"

"I don't know," Janet replied. "Mr Hinkley just said to write it in at the bottom. But I don't think the Hildeberg file is any news. It's the Appleton file." The brunette lady folded her arms, leaning over the divider and resting her chin on her forearms. "You read the papers, right? God, Hinkley had a fit when he heard that Sanders caused all that! He's thinking about firing him!"

"Alex deserves it. He should be flipping patties at some burger joint, but here he is shoving his nose where it doesn't belong." The two gals fell silent, Anita absently tapping a pencil on her desk in boredom.

"So," Janet started again, "Why couldn't you come over yesterday?"

Kind of a personal question, and she was trying to keep her relationship sort of quiet until it went further.  But, what the hell, she'd snagged a good one, and she had every right to brag about it. "Since you're my friend, I can tell you." She motioned her closer, and Janet leaned over the cubicle divider excitedly. "I've been seeing someone," Anita whispered to her friend.

Janet let out a small gasp. "Oh my god, good for you! Who is it? Wait, don't tell me, it's the guy over in Immigration Services. Jeff?"

Anita bit her lip, wondering if she should just say it, or go through Janet's favored method of interrogation, twenty questions style. "It's not Jeff," she admitted. "He's important, and he knows a lot of important people."

Janet tapped her chin with a painted fingernail. "Who do we know....that's important?" Her eyes grew wide, a little bit of disgust seeping into her expression. "Don't say you're going out with Mr Hinkley, please god don't say that!"

"I'm not going out with our boss!" she snapped back, just as disgusted. "He's in his forties, he's already married with kids on the way! I wouldn't touch Hinkley with a ten foot pole."

"I'm gonna go out on a limb here, ummmmmmmmmmm...... President McGoff? You manage to steal the title of First Lady from Ms Mcentyre? Everybody knows those two should get it over with and screw," Janet said offhandedly. It was true, every time those two were in the same room, the sexual tension could be cut with a knife. And Dr Mcentyre was always the one who flirted with him.

Anita gagged a little. "Okay, if I said no to Hinkley, I would say hell no to the President. But, you're on the right track."

Janet bounced up and down in her chair, wanting to know so she could gossip like a hen. "Come on, tell me! The suspense is killing me! Annie, you don't want to be a murderer, just tell me!"

Anita leaned close to her friend, whispering it right to her ear. "Aaron Patterson," she whispered so quietly that a mouse's sneeze could drown it out.

Janet leaned back in her chair, eyes wide open in shock and both hands covering her mouth. "No," she finally said after a minute of disbelief.

"Yes," Anita said back, nodding in truth.

"No!" she denied again.

"Yes!"

"Ann, you're telling me you bagged the Aaron Patterson. The guy who promenades with princesses and knows every important person from here to Kingdom Come? The guy who's on a first name basis with all of our top level superiors, not to mention every military commander. Somehow, I think that's impossible. Guys like him don't date regular girls like us. No, they get arranged marriages with the Duchess of Toad Hall or some crap like that!" She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms under her breasts and taking on look of skepticism. "I think you're pulling my leg here. You crumbled, went out with Alex, and now your mind is in some kind of super state of denial and convinced you that you're sweet with a dignitary."

"Okay, you want proof? He's taking me out to lunch today. And he'll be here any minute," Anita said smugly, quickly checking  the clock on the wall. A tiny bit of concern leapt into her mind. Aaron was ten minutes late already, she knew he was a very important person who had to be on call every minute of the day, but this kind of put her on the spot. "Any minute now," she said again, drumming her fingers on the desk. 

....... Aaron better not let her down this fucking time!

But she waited, and Janet soon grew bored, slipping back down over the divider to work on her forms and files. But not all was well within the kingdom, no sir. And soon Anita felt a repulsive, creepy tingle run down her spine. Like a huge, hairy tarantula was giving her a back massage.

"Hey Annie," a man's voice said behind her. Very slowly spinning around in her chair, she beheld the man who had nearly caused a political breakdown, as well as made the bile rise in her throat. 

"Hello, Alex," she said with a bite of venom. "Didn't Hinkley fire you yesterday?" She had to press the offensive here, the concept of 'no' meaning 'get the fuck out of my face' apparently didn't click with this guy. 

"Probation," he responded calmly. "Hinkley and I are like that, son!" He twined his index and middle fingers to show how apparently "close" he was with the boss. "So, what's a pretty little thing like yourself doing tonight? How's about you and me go find some nice little place in the market to get a steak? Or, we could just head back to my place and skip straight to dessert." His big, creeper smile made her shiver with disgust.

"Alex," she said as calmly as she could, holding back the urge to vomit, "If you were the last man on Earth, I'd take one for the team and let humanity go extinct. In fact, I would rather date a pony than be in your bedroom, or even within a hundred feet of your apartment. I would rather have my teeth pulled with a pair of rusty pliers and no anesthetic, rather than kiss you."

He held onto that dumb grin and laughed like she was joking, and the only thing Anita could truly espouse for the guy was his determination. "That's alright, baby. We can head back to your place, or we can find a nice place in the park. Annie, baby, you and I, it's like fate brought us together!"

She growled lightly in frustration. He just wouldn't give up! Anita felt like calling security, maybe getting a few of her friends in the Terran Marines to whup this guy's ass and teach him a lesson.

But a beacon of light came along, and her heart set aflutter as her knight in shining armor came to sweep her off her feet, or at least rescue her from this damned thick-skulled monster. Aaron walked down the hall, hands in his pockets and a certain bounce in his step knowing he was about to spend time with his best gal. Stopping at her cubicle, he leaned on the wall and smiled. "Hey sweetheart, sorry if I'm interrupting some important work stuff here, and I'm really sorry that I'm late." Aaron raised an eyebrow at Alex, wondering if it was just work, or if this guy was giving his gal trouble.

Anita instantly perked right back up. "No! Not at all, Aaron!" she said in an overly loud tone, hoping that Janet would hear it over the divider. And the other social worker did seem to catch on, slowly peeking over the cubicle wall. Janet's eyes grew wide when she saw the all-important man leaning so casually beside her friend's cubicle. "Come on, sweetie," Anita said with extreme emphasis, glaring at Alex, "let's get out of here, I'm starving." 

She stood from her chair, looping her arm around his offered arm and walking away, glancing back to wink at Janet, and raise her middle finger to Alex. After Janet overcame her shock and disbelief, she held up her right hand, pointing at her ring finger. "Slap a ring on him!" she shouted across the offices, damning subtlety.

Alex scowled at having his dream girl swept away by some guy like that. He didn't know who he was exactly, having never seen Patterson up close before, but he was a competitor, and that was all he needed to know.


***************************************************


After their break was over, the diamond dogs returned to work in the steel mill, a smug look adorning each of their faces. The human foreman was more than a little uneasy, seeing the normally docile and broken dogs grinning to each other like madmen. 

They each returned to their stations, and the man at the controls flipped on the machinery. With a heavy hum and the typical crashing of ore into a crucible, the steel mill returned to its normal dealings. The human workers warily eyed the diamond dogs, wondering what the hell they were up to. It was an odd thing, normally they followed instructions without question and did their jobs almost robotically. But today, after leaving that break room, they all seemed overly confident. Even going so far as to shirk their jobs and chat with each other in their low, growling voices.

Over in a carbon scoop station, next to one of the white-hot crucibles filled to the brim with fresh iron ore that needed the carbon to be converted to steel, a few human workers shook their heads as the dogs went about their lackadaisical doings. 

One worker, who went by the name of Jimmy, grunted as he scooped up another load of black carbon and tossed it into the crucible. Jimmy was a wiry young man, still just a boy by some of the other men's view. He had come to Fort Greenewell as a part of the Lazarus Initiative at the age of twenty, and now he worked side by side with hugely muscled men like his close friend Joe. 

Joe was a far cry from Jimmy, being a well muscled, tall man who preferred to work the mill with a tank top shirt, his dark and dusky skin streaked with lines of sweat. Joe was an older man, relative to the rest of the work force, having a few speckles of early grey at his temples, and a wife back at home pregnant with their second child. Joe considered Jimmy to be an impressionable kid, and he treated him like a man treated his adult son.

A heavy hand clapped on Jimmy's shoulder, and he looked up to see Joe wiping the sweat from his head. "Take it easy, Jimmy. Don't need another man workin' himself to heatstroke." Joe passed a small canteen of water to the younger man, and Jimmy took a grateful swig. 

"Thanks," Jimmy said to him, handing back the canteen. Leaning on his shovel, the wiry young steel worker looked over at a pair of diamond dogs as they halfheartedly loaded another cart of ore into a crusher. "What are they up to?" he asked nobody in particular.

Joe leaned on his own scoop, tilting back his hard hat and regarding the dogs with scorn. "Lazy bastards. One of them could easily handle that entire cart, but now they're doing it at half the speed with twice the labor. Stupid animals." Joe worked his tongue around his mouth, and spat a disgusting wad of chew straight for the pair working the carts, landing it squarely on one dog's chest. The dog yelped in surprise, lowering its ears in shame as it wiped off the disgusting blob. 

"Heh, all the damn dogs are good for is filling empty space, taking up oxygen that the rest of us could be using," Joe commented to Jimmy, nudging the younger steel worker. 

Jimmy shook his head, scooping up a load of carbon and dumping it into the crucible. "You don't really like them, do you?"

Joe started shoveling like Jimmy, his heavier muscles doing twice the labor of the younger man. "That'd be an understatement."

"Well, why?"

Joe stopped shoveling, leaning back and placing a hand in the small of his back. "My cousin was stationed at Fort Leavenworth. Good guy, had a pregnant girlfriend back in Seattle. Never raised a hand against anyone who didn't deserve it. But one day, after that damn wall of magic took us off our feet, we hear on the radio that most of Fort Leavenworth was leveled after the second Surge. I asked some guys who had been in that region, they said it was a dragon that did most of the damage, but the main force was a bunch of upright dogs."

Jimmy winced, knowing that nothing more needed to be said. Joe thoroughly believed that the diamond dogs had murdered his cousin, even though about half the garrison of Fort Leavenworth had escaped unharmed. Joe's cousin could have easily survived, he just didn't hear about it. But it still didn't change the fact that over two millenia ago, a force of mostly diamond dogs attacked his family.

Jimmy had never had a magical creature personally attack him or anyone he knew, and he thought back to the War. It had been so strange, all the monsters seemed unnaturally focused on crippling industry and attacking soldiers. Entire brigades would be engaged and destroyed, but the defenseless town only a mile away would remain unharmed. Sometimes a single house would get attacked and a single person would get dragged away. But the next day, they'd typically find something horrible and incriminating about that person.

But, Joe was his closest friend, and if Joe had a reason to hate the dogs, then so did he. And besides, he didn't actually have a reason to like the dogs. They were a bunch of shifty creatures, living in some big communal house at the edge of the city, way past the slum-like pony neighborhoods. He wouldn't doubt the idea that they spent all their money on drugs or something.

So, it couldn't harm him to hold some mysterious grudge against the dogs. It was always safer to err on the side of caution, especially with these creatures. Jimmy absently returned to his work, shoveling in the carbon to chemically remove any oxygen and purify the metal down to its elemental state. And when the purity sampler came along in his shiny thermal suit, Jimmy got to take a short break. 

Working near a 2800 degree crucible sucked the moisture out of a worker faster than standing in the desert sun, and so the foremen always encouraged their boys to take regular breaks to get water. Jimmy tossed down his shovel, wiping the quickly evaporating sweat his from forehead with the back of his filthy hand. Iron work was a dirty job, but with the booming industry and the apparent popularity of Terran steel in Equestria and Kali'Gryph, it was worth it.

Walking along the production line towards the break room, the deafening din of the ore crusher drowned out the danger that Jimmy had suddenly put himself in. 

Somewhere, at some stage in the construction of the Slagworks, someone had made a grave mistake. Up above the heads of all the workers, a rail hung from the ceiling. Structurally, the rail itself was incredibly sound, and it could easily bear the several ton loads of hot iron that moved along that rail in huge crucibles. Each crucible came with an arm that hung over the melting pots and attached to the rail. From there, a mechanism could move it anywhere in the factory in a matter of minutes, far faster and safer than moving it across the ground.

But a fatal error had been made when they built that rail. A single bolt, attaching one section of the rail to another, had been cast from a different batch than all the others, and it was comprised of a different alloy. A mix that was far less resilient against the constant high heat of the steel mill. 

And with hundreds of hot pots of molten iron passing under it each day, they had exacted their toll on the bolt, and weakened it to the point of snapping. And just when it decided to give way, Jimmy decided to take his break, and walked right under it.

The young man couldn't hear the sudden metallic creak as the rail buckled. And when he looked at his coworker's faces, he could not understand why they all started shouting at him. Naturally, he froze in place, wondering what he had done wrong this time. Only when the screech of the tortured steel rail above him reached his ears did he look up. And his whole world seemed to slow down to a crawl.

The rail snapped, and a vat of molten iron came crashing down, straight for him. The young man's mind flashed through all the important events of his life, and he was filled with regrets that he did not live more fully and love more completely. He regretted yelling at his mother as a young teen, he regretted not asking out Patty Williamson in his junior year of high school. He regretted not attending his granddad's funeral, and not paying more attention when the people around him needed him. And for a brief moment, his mind prayed to God, and hoped that Patterson was right when he said that everybody went to a loving afterlife.

Jimmy closed his eyes, and awaited fate.

But fate had a funny way of not being what is expected. Before the crucible could come crashing down on his head, Jimmy felt a furry paw land on his shoulder, and shove him out of the course of the falling vat of molten iron. The young man flew away from the disaster zone, landing heavily on the filthy floor of the factory. He bounced off his shoulder, and a searing pain overcame his world and his left arm became numb. 

But when he opened his eyes, the world began to come back to regular speed. The crucible fell to the ground with a thunderous crash that shook the entire factory. And Jimmy saw his savior, an old, grizzled diamond dog with the fur and muzzle of a wolfhound. The dog screamed as hot slag spilled from the crucible, splashing onto its chest and arms.

From there, it all became foggy as the blinding pain in his arm took over Jimmy's vision. A crew of his human coworkers rushed to his side, getting him off the factory floor as quickly as they could and yelling for somebody to shut down the entire production line. The entire Slagworks ground to a halt, a team of emergency responders rushing in to assess the damage and prevent any further damage. 

And the entire time, while a pair of military medics summoned from the street bore him out on a stretcher, Jimmy looked for his savior, and saw that the only attention the diamond dog was getting was from his fellow dogs. All the fur on his arms and his upper chest was burned away, and only the extreme resilience and natural toughness of the diamond dog kept his wounds from being life threatening. But the scars would be there to the end of his days.

And with that thought, Jimmy let the morphine that the MP medic injected him with to lull him to unconsciousness.


*******************************************


That night, Jimmy was released from a short stay at Lazarus General Hospital in the Undercity, his only damage being a few bruises and a dislocated shoulder. His arm would be in a sling for a few days, but the true damage could not be counted in scrapes and bumps. That day, that moment in the factory when a creature he wouldn't trust with his garbage risked its own life to save his, the young man's very beliefs had been shaken to the core. A diamond dog, a creature that many people said should be neutered and kicked out of the city, had done something for him that no other person had ever done.

It could have been the pain medication, it could have been the constant badgering by reporters from both the radio and newspaper that had been forced on him in his hospital bed, but Jimmy felt that a stiff drink would help to ease his mind. And so, his arm wrapped up like a pound of beef from the butcher shop, he trudged up from his apartment, through the quiet evening streets of Lazarus, and into Abraham's Pub.

His eyes downcast, and his young face bearing more confusion than it ever had before, he was stunned when his entrance was met with cheers.

"There's the man of the hour!" the hefty barkeeper called to him. All around the establishment, men whistled and raised a glass to him.

"Huh?" Jimmy stammered. "What did I do?"

To his surprise, his friend and mentor Joe laid a hand on his good shoulder, shepherding the young man to a table. "You survived, that's what. Most folks thought you were a dead man when that pot of slag decided your head wasn't flat enough as it is." He gave Jimmy's hair a joking tousle, seating the young steel worker next to a bottle of good whiskey. Joe plopped down in the seat across from him, pouring himself a shot to help alleviate the aches of the tumultuous day. 

Slugging down the burning gryphon distillate, Joe flashed a grin. "Truth be told, folks are just glad you're alive kid. And I guess it's a bonus that you're mostly in one piece. Can't afford to lose ya, none of us can," Joe said, his last words escaping in a much more somber tone.

The barkeeper appeared by the table, spinning around a chair and dropping into it. "Hey kid!" He slapped a hand on Jimmy's sore shoulder, and the young man winced. But the bartender didn't seem to notice his pain. "Which rumors are true, the ones where you leapt out of the way with your cat-like reflexes, or the ones where you used your herculean strength to lift the pot off yourself?" 

"Well-" Jimmy started, but Joe interrupted him.

"Neither of 'em, Charlie. Boy just got lucky is all. Only caught him a glancing blow."

Charlie waved him off, not wanting to believe in anything less than superhuman heroics. "Eh, the way you tell it makes it sound like crap. Jimmy, as soon as the paper gets printed out tomorrow, I'm clippin' your story and hanging it on the wall. Right up there next to those boys in blue." 

To any patron of Abraham's, getting placed up on Charlie's wall was a great honor, one that typically awarded a free drink to the person getting honored. Limit one per day or per act of heroism. But Jimmy just couldn't be excited about such a "great honor", because he knew it was all a lie. 

"Charlie, I...I don't deserve that. I was just a dumb kid in the wrong place at the wrong time. There's nothing heroic about just being an idiot." He wanted to say it all, to just lay the truth bare about the diamond dog that had taken the blow for him. But, though his beliefs in the idea that the dogs were just dumb animals were shaky at best right now, he still couldn't wrap his mind around it. "So what happened after they took me out?" he said to Joe.

Joe quaffed another shot of whiskey, working his tongue around his mouth. "Well, after all that spilled slag cooled down, the boss sent in the clean up team, and some Corp of Engineers guys from Greenewell came along to see what caused it all. Turns out it was a bad bolt. Damn thing was all warped from overheating too much. Mackenzie came over from the offices, said that everyone on shift could head out early." Joe filled his shot glass full again, gulping it down. "Rail should be fixed by tomorrow, and we go back to work."

Jimmy absently ran a finger around the rim of his glass, staring down at the amber liquid. His conscience couldn't take it anymore, and he asked the question that was plaguing his mind with guilt. "What about the dogs?"

Joe raised an eyebrow. "The diamond dogs? Who do you think is cleaning up the slag?"

Charlie nearly spat at the mention of the diamond dogs. "Oh yeah, I forgot you boys worked with a bunch of those mutts. Speakin' of talkin' animals, did I tell you guys about that pony that walked in here last week and wanted to get a drink? I told her to buzz off, but they apparently don't speak English over there in magical Ponyland."

Joe kicked back in his seat, folding his hands behind his head. "Yeah, I don't know what's worse. A bunch of talking dogs that smell like trash, or a bunch of horses that think they own the place! And don't get me started on those damn fools out there in the Park, prancing around after dark, doing all sorts of witchcraft. You hear one of them ponies sued us?"

Charlie's eyes widened in both shock and horror. "No way! What for?"

"Some red-blooded human being was doing his duty, preventing her from adopting one of our kids. So she throws a hissy fit and slaps the government with a writ."

Charlie and Joe laughed loud enough to shake the table. But Jimmy stayed quiet, his white knuckled fingers clenched around his untouched glass. 

"And you know what I heard when we were gettin' dismissed by the boss? The damn diamond dogs all gathered up today, and Elliot Hardy, the guy that works in the loading dock, remember? Anyways, he said that he overheard the dogs talking about unionizing! You heard me right, a dog union!"

Both Charle and Joe hooted and howled at the absurd notion. To them, the diamond dogs would forever be idiotic creatures that were barely above animals. But today Jimmy had learned a different set of ideas about the creatures that shared Lazarus with humanity.

"Why don't you lay off of them!" Jimmy snapped. Breathing heavily, he looked around himself, and saw that the entire crowd had gone silent. "You don't know a damn thing about the dogs, or the ponies! You want to know the truth, Charlie? I didn't do a damn thing when that crucible came down on me! One of the diamond dogs pushed me out of the way, and he got burned all to hell for it! That's right, a diamond dog saved my life!"

And with that confession, that veil of uncertainty lifted from his heart. Jimmy could see clearly now, and his confession had stunned himself more than anyone else in the room. It was as if everything he had been told was a lie, only to see that the real truth had always been much simpler. "If it hadn't been for that dog, I'd be a greasy smear. He risked his life to save mine, and the least you could do is to show some goddamned gratefulness."

Jimmy stood from his chair, grabbing the bottle of whiskey and storming out the door. He didn't know what to do now, but his conscience prodded him on, moving him down the street to a place he knew where he might be welcomed. Coming to the lonesome little street where all the ponies had set up shop (and many had miserably failed), he found himself just outside a ramshackle little establishment. 

The Watering Hole was different than what he'd heard about it. The lights were bright, the smell wasn't all that bad, and from what he could hear the conversation was flowing as freely as the liquor. Of course, few humans, if any, ever went into the Watering Hole, and Jimmy had to mentally brace himself and take a few encouraging breaths before he opened the door.

Most of the crowd turned to cheerily welcome the new arrival, but fell silent at the sight of the young human man. Jimmy could feel the eyes of hundreds of ponies on him as he walked to the bar, and dozens of whispers hissed like a swarm of locusts. What was a human doing here? The only humans that ever went to the Watering Hole were a few drunks that were  too cheap to buy drinks at Abraham's. And even then, they only showed up at the back door, paid for a keg and went on their merry way.

Settling down in a barstool, Jimmy tapped his knuckle on the bar. A pony wiping down a glass meandered over his direction, trying as hard as he could to look as normal as possible around such an odd patron. 

"Uh, what can I do ye for, sir?" the pony asked him. 

"I'm looking for someone. A diamond dog, tall for a dog, with curly gray fur, kind of a pointy muzzle?"

The bartender set down his clean glass, nodding over to the corner. "The only dog I can think of like that is old Salty. Should be right over there with the rest of them. And, uh, if you need anything, just holler."

Jimmy nodded to the bartender, rising from his stool and wandering over to the corner where the dogs normally sat. And even from across the room, it wasn't hard to spot Salty. The old hound looked terrible. Ratty bandages, probably made from torn apart bedsheets, covered both his forearms and his entire upper torso. He was hunched over in pain, and he whimpered like a little puppy whenever his burns would twinge. Several times he leaned down to lick at his wounds, but each time a younger dog would tell that it would only make it worse.

Jimmy's pangs of guilt gushed straight out from his heart, and leapt straight into his throat when he stopped only a few feet from the old dog. "Um, hey," he said nervously.

All the dogs at the table looked up, a few wincing at the sight of the injured human. Jimmy could see it in their eyes, a sense of concern for his injuries, and it comforted him enough to say what needed to be said. "Uh, Salty, right?" The old hound nodded. "I uh, I.... I came to say a few things. When you... did what you did, out there, in the Slagworks, you did me the greatest favor anyone ever has. Nobody ever asked you to be a hero, but you decided to be one. I've um, never been good at this, so.... well, thanks. You saved my ass out there today. Thank you," he said with a sense of finality.

Salty seemed speechless, but a smile spread across the old dog's face. Salty reached up with one of his thick arms and gently patted Jimmy on his good shoulder. "Any day," the old dog said in a voice that seemed as grateful as any. "You, you good boy. Make good Stoneclaw." Salty reached over to another table, pulling over another chair, and he smiled again as he indicated for Jimmy to take a seat.

A half grin formed on the young man's face, and he slowly sank down into the chair. All around him, dogs and ponies bore wide grins as they returned to their business. "So, Salty, I'm really sorry about the burns. I have some pain pills back at my apartment if you need them," Jimmy remarked to the old hound.

Salty chuckled, and waved it off like it was nothing. "This nothing bad. One time, we dig a new tunnel in old mine, stoneworm chewed into an empty cavern, and we found a stone giant in there! I killed it, but he broke both of my legs!" The old dog laughed at he apparently fond memory of his youth.

Jimmy was shocked at the thought of a diamond dog laughing away the painful memory of such a disfigurement. But, who didn't remember long since healed injuries without a touch of reminiscent fondness? "What's a stone giant?" Jimmy asked nobody in particular. 

"Earth elemental," a dog with the sharp muzzle and dusty coat of a coyote answered for him. "Big magical creature made out of rocks. Very common in caves and tunnels. Dangerous to fight, but far from the worst thing to find in our tunnels."

"Wow," Jimmy murmured under his breath. Rock monsters, warring packs, the threat of starvation, not to mention the needful expansion of a more powerful nation would have whipped any other race. But he found himself admiring the diamond dogs for their tenacity and their indomitable will to survive. And he thought with a smile that  a race as iron willed as the diamond dogs would be a good complement to the clever minds and sharp wit of humankind.

All they needed was a little bit of guidance to thrive.

"So, I heard that you guys were going to unionize," Jimmy said, throwing it out there. 

The dusty-coated coyote dog perked up, glancing over at Jimmy with a rabid curiosity. "How did you know?"

Jimmy shrugged, as he himself had only heard it third-hand at best. "Just a hunch. But, um, if you guys were thinking about making it serious, I think I can help you out. My dad was a union rep from a electrician's union, and he liked to bore to me to sleep every night by telling me about his meetings," the young man said with a reminiscent grin.

Foxtrot smiled eagerly, a certain sparkle shining in his eyes. Jimmy launched into stories about how the old unions would form up from workers of a common profession. And he told them how the workers always held the true power in an economy, and in every business. The diamond dogs remained thoroughly enthralled throughout his little lesson, believing so much in these new ideas that they had Jimmy draft up a rough draft of a union charter on a bar napkin.

And over in the other corner, overseeing the discussions and plans of the pony business owners and workers, a certain mint green mare watched the unfolding events with a smile. For that night in the Watering Hole, the civil movement had gained its first human. 

Hopefully, he would only be the first of many.
> Tinker, Mare, Soldier, Spy
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"We shall continue to hear argument this morning in Case No. 1 of the Terran Judiciary, Lyra Heartstrings vs Republic of Terra. Mrs Heartstrings, you may begin your statements."

The minty mare stood from her seat, wearing a grin of confidence like a filly might proudly wear a ribbon in her mane. "Thank you, Madam Chief Justice. And a 'good morning' to the rest of judiciary as well."

A few of the Justices on their bench tapped their fingers in apparent nervousness, and they had a reason to be nervous. On Friday, Lyra had been the only pony in the courthouse, completely outnumbered and outmatched by the humans present. But the numerical advantage and the psychological detriment that had on Lyra had completely evaporated when she had brought a few supporters.

Ponies were herd creatures, they needed others of their own kind around for emotional and mental support. It was a simple biological imperative that far predated the Surges and the sentience of ponies. And Lyra had found herself a herd. A big herd. 

Almost every seat in the gallery was packed full of ponies. To the human eye, so accustomed to a much drabber and more neutral world, the painter's pallet of brightly colored fur, pointed horns and fluffy wings could have caused a headache with very little effort. When the first few had come to the door of the courthouse, the MP guarding the door turned them away. But when the ponies came en masse, he suddenly found his courage faltering in favor of nervous politeness, and nearly four dozen mares and stallions of every tribe filed in to give their support.

And the gallery was not only filled with the hoofed citizens of the Republic. More than one curious human had wandered into the courthouse that morning, seeing for themselves about this rumor of a single pony challenging the justice system. But not just bystanders, a few paid the greatest attention, scribbling down notes on a little pad of paper, getting their frontline stories  for tomorrow's paper or the top story for their radio show.

Chief Justice Haliburton's ultimate goal of keeping this completely under the table had been utterly shattered, and now the Chief Justice had to sit on at the bench and watch as more and more residents of Lazarus learned about Lyra's case.

The mint green mare carried herself confidently as she strode in front of her desk, a few pages of notes hovering in her yellow aura. And to the surprise of everyone in the court, she reared up on her hind legs, folding her forelegs behind her back. Though it was a mild strain on her back to stay bipedal like this, Lyra's many years of practice were paying off with how comfortably she could maintain that pose for a long time.

"If it pleases the court, I would like to address the issue brought before the court at the previous convention. My opponent has so rhetorically pointed out that we ponies may be prone to certain illnesses. I will not debate the idea, because yes, we do have cases of brucellosis and anthrax."

Lyra stopped her monologue, pacing on her hindlegs. "But, it is common knowledge to the people of Equestria that these diseases are in such a state of decline that not a single case of anthrax has been reported in any county or province of Equestria in over twenty years! This is an inherent fact to my people, I did not even have to look it up!"

Nearly four dozen ponies in the gallery muttered to themselves, nodding in agreement. Disease was always treated swiftly and decisively in the kingdom of the ponies, and the knowledge of spotting it and preventing it was always taught at a very young age. In fact, thanks to Princess Celestia's continuing campaign of health, both the dangerous diseases of leptospirosis and rabies had been completely eradicated from both the North American and South American continents. The old efforts of the human based World Health Organization would have done well to take notes on Equestria's methods when they tried to stop toxoplasmosis.

A few of the more liberal Justices took note of the popular consensus concerning disease in pony society, but the more skeptical held on to the idea that it was just plain dangerous to be around ponies.  

"In fact, if you believe that it is dangerous for a pony to be around a human because of disease, can we assume that the inverse would be the same? Should ponies avoid humans because of your literal tens of thousands of transmissible  diseases? My opponent proclaims that a human should avoid contact with ponies because of the infinitely small chance of catching something. But, I say that we ponies should be more wary of being sneezed on by a human! Various poxes, staph, ebola, hundreds of different strains of influenza, these are all illnesses that rightfully should be feared. It is because of this disproportionately high amount of diseases that can be transmitted from a human to a pony, and not the inverse, that I say my opponent's argument is invalid! If I were to adopt a human child, I put myself at greater risk than I put her in."

She took a quick sip of water, moistening her parched throat. The ghost in her ear had made her memorize that speech line by line, and now was the time to launch into the almost pure sophistry that he would whisper to her.

"But, if we want to talk about disease, rest assured, I've spotted the most dangerous illness of all, right here in Lazarus," Lyra calmly said to the nobody in particular. She sat down at her desk, folding her forelegs behind her head and kicking up her hindlegs to rest on the desk. By all appearances, she had rested her case for today, but she had made no declaration.

Justice Brockmann fidgeted in his seat, and Lyra could barely contain her grin as he took the bait. 

"Mrs Hearstrings, do you rest?"

Lyra shook her head. "Nope."

"Then would you please inform us about this "most dangerous illness of all"?"

The mare dropped her hooves back to the floor, solemnly nodding as she launched into it again. "Of course. I've seen this disease attack every level of a society. I've traveled much of the known world, and everywhere I went, people were afflicted with this dangerous plague. But, no matter how much it permeated the very fabric of society, nobody ever seemed to notice what was truly wrong until it was too late. This is a plague that has wiped out entire civilizations in a matter of years, brought the greatest forces on Earth to their knees, and yet... I saw this disease, this... this... pestilence," she said as if the word left a foul taste in her mouth, "right here in this very courtroom. That disease... is ignorance."

Ignorance? many of the observers thought. How could a society so steeped in knowledge be anything but enlightened? Humanity had ten thousand years of accumulated knowledge, they had even put a man on the moon! How could she knowingly proclaim that humanity was ignorant!

"Ignorance. The very reason why I'm here today, why I even have to fight for my rights and the rights of my kind. Ignorance is the disease that afflicts this country, and this case is a symptom of it! If it pleases the court, I would like to bring the example of Mr James Howell, seen here in this newspaper clip."

Lyra levitated the morning edition of the day's paper, clearly showing the headline news about yesterday's tragedy at the Slagworks. "It was originally believed that Mr Howell was the only casualty at yesterday's breakdown in the factory, but this morning, Mr Howell himself came forward to state that a diamond dog was also injured. That dog, a steelworker by the name of Salty, suffered extreme burns to both his arms and his torso. Salty received those wounds when he pushed Mr Howell out of the path of destruction. He saved his life, just because he was in the right place at the right time. Mr Howell himself proclaimed that before the incident, he held a prejudice to the Stoneclaws, but after Salty intervened and saved his life, he could not even remember why he held such a prejudice in the first place. James Howell was a victim of ignorance, and it took a close brush with death to make him realize that he was truly ignorant of his fellow beings! The diamond dogs of the Stoneclaw pack stepped out of their way to accept Mr Howell, to see him as a true equal. And just like Salty saved the life of Jimmy Howell, I want to save the life of that little girl. And I want my people to have their voices heard, when all they want to say is how they can help you. The first ponies in Terra may have come with swords in their hooves and the command to fight in their minds, but they stayed here and offered an olive branch of peace and understanding and the determination to make things right! And the only way we can help you cure yourselves of this disease, this plague of ignorance and distrust, is if you let us try. And the only way we can try is if we can see eye to eye, and have our voices heard."

Lyra felt a pleased warmth emanating from her left ear. "Good, good, drive it home, turn the focus away from yourself and onto the bigger problem," the ghostly presence of Mr Darrow whispered.

The mare did not respond, nor even show any sign that she had heard at all. Just like they had practiced.

"How many of you live in a home on the surface?" Lyra asked the Justices. The row of stoic human judges remained silent, knowing full well where this was going. "How many of you wake up every morning to sunlight instead of a cold stone wall? How many times have you walked the road leading out to the countryside, or used the rails? And who, might I ask, helped build those things for you? Was it the stalwart government? Was it Terra's finest, the soldiers of Fort Greenewell? Was it the politicians, the bureaucrats, the doctors, the lawyers of Lazarus? Human beings may have built everything below ground, but it was ponies who built it from the ground up. And most of the creatures that worked their hooves to the bone building homes and businesses for nothing but the cost of materials, they live in shacks on the edge of the city. Sometimes a dozen stallions will live in a place with barely enough room for two, just because they believe in atoning for what our ancestors did. We helped to rebuild your civilization, and the least you can do.... the least you can do is let us be a part of it. The Republic of Terra allows to be citizens in name only, and nothing else. And that, that is the ignorance that has spread through this city."

Lyra paced back to her desk, taking a seat in her chair and resting her back from the strain of staying bipedal the entire time. "I close my arguments for the day by asking that you please think of this as a new opportunity, instead of a simple obstacle."

A few hooves stomped on the floor in the gallery, the ponies giving a slight applause for Lyra's passionate speech. And with the petitioner's argument given, the respondent stood from his seat, hooking his fingers in his belt loops and lazily pacing in front of his desk. 

"Respondent, you may begin your argument at this time," Chief Justice Haliburton said to Bennett. 

Attorney General Bennett nodded to the Chief Justice. "I would like to begin by applauding my opponent on a well delivered and very impassioned argument. It is true that the ponies who live in this city seem to deserve more than what they currently have. But, as any sensible person knows, you can only get out of life what you put into it. If the ponies live in shacks at the outskirts of town, isn't that their own fault? They have the materials and the abilities to build themselves much more accommodating living quarters, and yet they seem to insist upon living in squalor."

Lyra ignored the almost insulting observation against her people, and chose now to instigate Operation Cigar. Her horn glowed a soft shade of yellow, the musical chiming of magic barely heard to even her. She carefully fished a bit out of her saddlebag and set it on the table, moon side up. Bennett was making another of his very persuasive arguments, and right now, she didn't intend on flipping for suns or moons.

Setting her focus on the glass of water and the pitcher at her desk, she magically levitated enough water for the glass to be as close to half full as she could get without overdoing it. 

Now came the tricky part.

If one knew how to do it, and if one knew the small flaw that was present on the moon side of most Equestrian bits, a clever illusionist could safely balance a glass of water on its edge without fear of it spilling. The entire illusion was that the glass was balanced precariously, and would spill at the slightest jostle. But, Lyra had spent weeks of boredom in primary school perfecting this illusion, completely blowing off her teleportation lessons. 

Tipping her glass over to a 45 degree angle, she carefully slipped the edge into the top curve of the crescent moon, and the tiny flat spot of a star near it. A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead as she released the glass from her aura, and with a sigh of relief, the glass of water stood on its own, looking for all the world like it had frozen in mid-spill. The bait had been cast out, and now it was time to reel in some fish.

Leaning back in her chair, folding her forelegs behind her head, Lyra kicked the leg of her table.

It wasn't a hard kick, but enough to make some noise, attract the glances of the Justices, and slosh the water in the glass.

Bennett faltered for a moment, glancing over his shoulder to check on what caused that commotion. Seeing nothing but a curiously balanced glass and a smug unicorn (he had never thought in all his life that this scene would ever be considered normal), he returned to his argument.

"Which is why I say the implementation of social programs to assist the ponies is a mere reflection of twenty-first century attempts to appease minorities, when in fact that "minority" easily outnumbers us hundreds to one on the broader scale! Why should human beings, the obvious minority, be the ones to pay for the advancement of ponies in our society?"

The Justices seemed to be taking notes of that, and Lyra decided now was a good time to distract their intent and thoughtful train of ideas. She nudged her table enough so that the water visibly sloshed, catching the eye of the Justices, who expected it to fall and spill. 

Just like the ash from Clarence Darrow's infamous cigar.

Bennett paused for a moment, then continued on with his rebuttal. "Some governments have actually seen such things like "equal opportunity" programs and the encouragement of interracial equality has shown to have detrimental effects on the intended goal. I cite the near infinite examples of the attempts to make reparations to the African American communities following their emancipation from slavery in the 1860's. Countless times, the African American community was encouraged to take charge of a greater part of their own welfare. And the government spent countless billions trying to encourage racial equality. And what did that accomplish? Racial discrimination. Segregation. Poverty, distrust, even racially motivated hatred and crime! Brought about when the Caucasian majority felt the government to be favoring of the minority, and shirking of themselves."

Kick.

Again he paused, taking a shallow breath and continuing. 

Hehe, this is fun! Lyra thought to herself.

"If civil rights are simply handed to the ponies, if government programs are enacted to hopefully encourage equality, we'll see the results in a century or more, when the old timers all recall what it was like to live in a lopsided society. When the history lessons about the first days of the Republic all focus on the accusations that we humans are unfair and uncaring."

Over the course of the next twenty minutes, David Bennett put his best foot forward, and played his 'A' game. He spoke truthfully about his knowledge of the failures of civil rights movements, and the consequences they had upon societies as a whole. The distrust that they sowed, and the decades of legal fine tuning that it took to properly enforce. But not a word of the good stuff reached the Justices. For whenever he seemed on a roll, their eyes would drift over to Lyra's mystically balanced glass of water. By the end of his argument, he had started slipping in old baseball scores, just to see if they noticed. They did not.


********************************************************


"Ha! No wonder you were the best! What should we try next, balancing a feather on the tip of my nose? Chewing on a hard candy?" Lyra said excitedly to the companion that was invisible to all except herself, and a few specifically talented magic users.

"None of it," Mr Darrow responded. "Once was enough. And the fact that you got away with doing that for half an hour without reprimand is evidence to say that it didn't work. Your ploy didn't garner enough attention at the crucial points. Do you know how many times I used my cigar to distract my opposition? Once, because my opposition would always adapt their own strategies to combat mine. That trick only works once, and you jumped the gun by using it now."

"If not today, then when? Please enlighten me," Lyra replied back, a touch of attitude coming into her voice.

She trotted down the market streets of Lazarus, stretching out her legs and back from trying to use her bipedalism ploy to subconsciously garner better favor. But subtle cues and good facts didn't seem to be enough. Despite a good argument and a strong group of supporters, most of the Justices seemed to be leaning towards Bennett. And Clarence could confirm this.

At one point during Bennett's response, he had left his safe gemstone haven and taken a look at the Justice's notes. Highly unethical, but he argued that the laws concerning unethical behavior only applied to those who could actually be punished in some way that didn't involve exorcism. He had gotten his information, even gleaned which Justices had more influence over the others and which ones were still on the fence.

"In a last resort situation. Now, we need to focus on getting as much information on our three target Justices as we possibly can-" The ghost stopped himself, zipping out of Lyra's earring and scoping out the street. "Keep moving," he said to her, his tone changed from the scolding of a lawyer to a more tense sense of worry.

"What? Weren't you saying something about the Justices?"

"I said move it!" he shouted.

Lyra jumped at his sudden change, quickening her trot. "What is it?" she asked.

"There's a man in a black coat that's been following you since you left the courthouse," the ghost replied. "Get to a populated street and find a crowd."

Lyra slowed down, chuckling at her lawyer's paranoia. "Look, just because I upset a few people doesn't mean that "They" are out to get me. This isn't one of those spy novels that my dad used to read. I'm sure that guy is just coincidentally on the same route as us."

"And mirroring our movements? And keeping a precise distance back? Do you think those are coincidences too?" 

Lyra peeked over her shoulder to get a look at her stalker, and when she spied the man in a black coat, a needle of fear jabbed into her heart. He wore a black jacket and broad sunglasses, and all Lyra could really tell about him was his tall frame and blonde hair. But as soon as she really got a good look, he ducked into an alleyway.

"Okay, that was a bit more convincing," she acceded. 

Picking up her pace, Lyra moved quickly, yet calmly, towards a more populated area. But still she had a feeling of the man's eyes on her back, watching her every move, yet keeping far back. She considered just leaping into the open door of a house or a shop, but somehow she felt like that wouldn't stop her stalker. Lyra's easy trot turned to a canter, and a sheen of nervous sweat began to build up on her forehead. 

Throwing him for a loop, she ducked into an alleyway herself, emerging into the street on the other side and hoping that she had thrown him off her trail. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she stifled a laugh, wondering if that guy was just some wackjob who disagreed with her court case. But that sweat came back a second later when she spied a black-coated shape in the corner of her eye.

Looking right at the man, she spun on her hooves and ran at a gallop for the marketplace, hoping to lose him in the crowds there. She didn't know how fast humans could run, but few things in the world could catch a pony at full speed. 

But, few things in the world fatigued faster than a pony running at full speed, and after a few blocks, Lyra had to stop by the entrance to an alley to catch her breath. "I really should have laid off the chips," she panted. Peeking around the side of the building, she pulled her head back when she saw the black-coated man just up the street, scanning the area for her.

"Keep moving!" her ghost friend urged. 

Lyra stumbled onto her hooves, trying to control her pounding heart and her surging adrenaline. Whoever this man was, he was dead set and determined on getting her. And from what she saw next, he wasn't alone. A woman in plain clothes walked out of an adjacent building, saying something quick and low to the black-coated man. With a nod, they both began walking down the street, each taking a side to search.

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Lyra bolted out of her hiding spot and towards the safety of a busy street. She saw the comforting sights of crowds that she could lose them in, and even a patrol of soldiers that might protect her.

And she would have made it, had her pursuers not expected her mad dash all along. A third person stepped out of the door of a shop, placing himself right between her and her freedom. Lyra skidded to a halt, falling back on her haunches as the third person approached her. She considered standing up and fighting, using her sharp, pointed horn to skewer the man or her magic to beat him senseless. But her conscience forbade her from harming a human being, even if it meant they were going to harm her.

The other two pursuers closed in around her, blocking off any hope of escape. 

"P-please, don't hurt me!" she begged. "I never did anything to harm anyone, please, just let me go!"

The man in the black coat grabbed her haunches and lifted her to her hooves, checking her flank and her cutie mark. "This is the one," he said to his comrades. "You're coming with us. A very important citizen would like to speak with you."

"And what if I don't want to!" she shouted back, hoping her raised voice might attract attention and maybe some assistance.

The man grabbed the front of his coat, flipping it back to reveal the stun gun holstered on his hip. "I'm afraid that's out of the question." The other two humans took their places by her sides, obscuring as much of her from as many prying eyes as possible. The black coated man took the lead, and began to march his little procession towards the center of the city. 

Lyra was panicking to herself, wondering if they were going to take her out to the woods and make her dig her own grave. She stifled back the fearful tears, and the thoughts that angering the Republic could have just cost her her life. And then it hit her, she could just teleport away! She tried to embrace her magic, to think of the spell that would remove her from this horrible situation. But the moment she tried to touch her magic, she felt the rolling waves of dulling power coming from one of the humans.

They had been smart, and one of them had brought a micro-Tesla device. Whoever they were, they had been planning this for quite a while. And for a moment, Lyra had absolute mental clarity. Whoever these people were, they had access to military-grade magical suppression technology. And she still had a ghost on her side.

"Clarence!" she hissed as quietly as she could. "Go get help! Please, hurry!" But the realization struck her, souls were made of magic, and they had just put up a magic nullifying shield. Her heart raced as she thought about what might have happened to the poor specter, but her fears were assuaged when she saw the flickering spirit orb, apparently tracing the perimeter of the shield to try and find any weaknesses. "Go get help!" she mouthed to him. The ghost seemed to understand, and zipped away.

Clarence wondered what in the hell this could all be about. In all his years as an attorney, not a single one of his clients had been abducted. Sure, threats had been made, there were even a few assaults, but never anything like this. Flying through the city as quickly as he could, Clarence wondered who he could go to for help. Screeching to a halt, he realized his condition made things rather complicated. Not a single person in the city could see him or hear him, except for the necromancer. And he didn't even know if Aaron could help him or not.

"Damn it!" he swore aloud. "God damn them all to Hell! God-" He stopped his rant, realizing that no mortal beings could see or hear him, but there were immortal ones who could get Lyra all the help she needed. In a perverted sense of things, Clarence went against all his living morals, and decided that he needed the help of God to get through this one.

Buzzing through walls and flying through streets, the ghost passed the border of the homes and the residences, going straight for the heart of the Park. It was midday, everyone was either at work or beating the heat at home, and so the shrine of the Singing Crystal was barren of visitors. 

Going straight for the Crystal, Clarence began to buffet it with pulses of his psionic pleas. "Come on, answer!" he growled in frustration. "Lyra is in danger, I need your help!"

The Crystal flared with an inner light, and he felt a magical tether link his energies with the familiar energies of the other side, energies that had been his home and his paradise for over two millenia. And with that link established, he felt the awe-inspiring presence of the one that many called the Dream Walker fill the void. 

You have called, and I have answered. What is it that you seek?

"I'm not looking for anything! My client is in danger, and I need your help! Lyra was taken by some goons with an anti-magic shield, and they're taking her somewhere. Send some warrior spirits, maybe even one of the elementals or one of the Conduits in your service to save her!"

The ghost faltered when he heard the god-spirit calmly chuckling from her side of the link. 

Lyra is in no danger. She is safe now, and she is going where she needs to be. Rest easy, my child, for Lyra will soon be in the company of those who seek to be her allies.


*******************************************************


Her ghost hadn't shown up yet with some kind of a rescue party in tow, and Lyra was beginning to wonder how long it would take searchers to find her body in the woods. The three people who had taken her walked in a tight formation around her, keeping her almost completely obscured from view, and preventing her from seeing almost anything at all. They walked silently for many long minutes, turning and weaving through the streets of Lazarus until Lyra could no longer tell where they were in the city. 

Perhaps that was the intent. Maybe they knew she was trying to keep track of where she was, just to make her escape easier. But when the man in the black coat, who had taken the lead position, stopped his march suddenly, Lyra peeked around the edge of his coat, and her mind began to race. She could barely see the gray, black, and white splotches of his urban camouflage fatigues. But the gun in his hands, and the straight, stiff way he carried himself screamed one word to Lyra: soldier.

She had definitely kicked the lantern over in the hayloft now. The presence of a soldier could only indicate the government's involvement in her foalnapping. The man in front talked quickly and quietly with the soldier, opening up his coat to flash some kind of identification. And when he saw it, the soldier stepped aside, promptly saluting. The trio and their pony captive passed through the checkpoint, and again Lyra peeked out to get a good look at where she was. 

In the distance, helicopters and tanks sat idly in rows, and soldiers bearing the phoenix of the Republic on their shoulders milled about in their general duties. The flag of the Republic of Terra snapped in the breeze, and looking back she could see the chain-link fence that separated the base from the rest of the city.

Sweet Celestia, I'm in Fort Greenewell, she thought frantically, What does the Army want with me?

They marched her across the training fields, trying to avoid as many soldiers as possible, all the way to an office building at the center of the base. They entered through a side door, walking quietly down a side hallway and flashing their badges whenever someone bumped into them. And for each person that averted their eyes to the floor and kept on walking whenever her captors flashed their badges, the more she felt that these people were far more dangerous than she anticipated.

Finally, they came to a room with a pair of soldier elites standing guard outside. And once again, the trio flashed their badges. The guards nodded, and the trio of her foalnappers stepped aside for Lyra to get through.

"You go alone," the man in the black coat said to Lyra. 

Swallowing the lump in her throat, and knowing that compliance may be the only thing keeping her safe right now, she stepped through the doorway, wondering what tortures lay on the other side. What horrors they might inflict upon her for challenging them, maybe they would throw her in the Iron Mare, or pull her legs out of their sockets on the rack. Who knew, perhaps Bonbon's long ago prediction of a cage over a pit full of snakes would come into play.

But instead, she was treated to a different sight, an orderly and professional office, lined with shelves full of books, photographs, war memorabilia, and even what looked like an office plant or two. But the centerpiece was the huge oak desk, one that might sit comfortably in the office of one of Equestria's wealthiest CEOs or even in the Royal Palace. But the man behind it did not bring her the comfort that the rather plain setting had bestowed. He stood with his back to her, looking out the broad window and out at the base full of soldiers.

And with his extremely broad shoulders and huge frame that only a minotaur could compare to, he could only be one man. The one man who could rightfully claim that he held the true power of the Terran Army in his command. General Pilotte.

"Simply magnificent, aren't they?" the hugely muscular general said to his guest, not even bothering to turn around as he addressed her. A grin of pride began to grow on his face as a column led by a chanting sergeant marched under his window. "The finest soldiers in all the world, men who would lay down their lives for this nation and their people. And they have done so, many, many times."

He turned to meet his guest, eye to eye, yet his expression bore no surprise when his eye met the amber eyes of a pony mare. "Have a seat, if you will." He himself took his seat, gesturing to a plush looking chair that seemed specially designed with the comfort of a pony in mind.

And though compliance had been her saving grace with the men who had taken her in the market, now she knew that defiance was the last weapon in her arsenal. "I prefer to stand," she said curtly. Even though she was alone in the room with the general, she could feel the unseen eyes of others on her and the general, ready to come in at a moment's notice with guns leading and anti-magic devices at the ready.

Pilotte just shrugged, turning to a small cabinet and bringing out a nondescript brown bottle. "May I interest you in a drink?"

"No," Lyra responded, keeping her eyes on him at all times and keeping her horn ready with a spell in mind.

"Your loss, I suppose. This is Ardbeg, single malt scotch. Well over two thousand years old. Most likely the last bottle in the world, unless your kind has one on display somewhere in some museum." Pilotte poured himself a generous helping of the endangered scotch, leaning back in his chair. "I trust that my men were not too rough in finding you?"

"Finding me? That's what you call abducting me from the street and taking me prisoner?! What gives you the nerve to say that that was anything less than a foalnapping!" Lyra snapped.

The general took a sip from his scotch, chuckling lowly. 

"What's so funny?" the mare growled.

"Nothing, I just find pony idiom so.... adorable. "Foalnapping", "somepony", it is as if someone designed you to be cute. And as for my men, they could have been much rougher. I consider the execution of their assignment rather clean. It is their duty, after all."

"Duty?" Lyra asked.

General Pilotte nodded once, taking another sip of his scotch. "Tell me, Lyra, if I may call you that, what wins wars?"

The Terran general looked at her expectantly, and as long as she was under his power and protection, she felt that she would avoid the chopping block if she played his game. "I don't know; soldiers, weapons, tactics?" she spewed venomously.

General Pilotte shook his head, draining the rest of his glass and placing it on his desk. "Wrong. Intelligence is what wins wars. Yes, you may have the grandest and most expansive army, the finest and deadliest weapons, and even tacticians that would  put both Sun Tzu and George Patton to shame. But if you lack the knowledge of where to deploy these soldiers, how to use their weapons most effectively against the enemy, or what tactics might succeed against the cunning of your foes, you may as well have spent your entire treasury on a flashy bunch of men who sit there, sucking their thumbs while the world threatens to eat them alive. The Republic has one of the most powerful armies on the planet, easily the deadliest and most advanced weaponry, and more tactical geniuses than Canterlot could ever hope to find. All we lacked was an intelligence network. Which is where my men come in."

"So this is about intelligence?" Lyra asked. "Those men that came and took me, they aren't soldiers, they're spies?"

The huge man nodded. "In layman's terms, yes. They are three of ten, each of them a member or a trainee of an Old World intelligence agency. During the early days of Project Lazarus, we looked specifically for their types, and we found them hiding among civilian populations, awaiting orders from governments that no longer existed. Members of the CIA, MI:6, FBI, Mexican Federales, even a member of the Israeli Shin Bet, the most elite counter-terrorist force in the world. They're in every level of society, keeping their fingers on the pulse of Lazarus and reporting it all back to me. You may know some of their faces, but you would never guess that they are the most trained killers and intelligence agents in the world. Shop-owners, laborers, soldiers," Pilotte paused for a moment, smirking at Lyra, "tour guides."

Lyra blanched at the memory of the overly excitable tour guide, and how the government may have known about her since the day she arrived in Lazarus. "What does this have to do with me?"

"You were good practice for the recruits. And besides, I could not openly approach you on the street or at home, not without indicting myself and causing another unneeded controversy. I've been meaning to speak with you ever since my spies reported that a pony mare had tried to adopt a human child. I knew it would soon grow out of hand, and I've been trying to make contact with you since."

Lyra began to relax her fear and her rage in favor of curiosity. The general had just told her that he had been watching her with some of the most dangerous agents on the continent, and yet all he wanted to do was talk? "Why did you tell me about your spies? I could go straight to the press, tell them that the government is watching everyone's moves, and then your game would be up!"

The general chuckled to himself. "Clever one, aren't you? I have given you collateral, Lyra. I want you to trust me. At any moment after you leave here, you could destroy my career, wash away the entire upper echelon of the Terran Army. But, I simply want you to know, barring the fact that I can not publicly come out and say so, that we are on the same side. In a convoluted sense, we have the same goal, but vastly different reasons for achieving it."

Lyra stood stock still, and her face broke with a single disbelieving laugh. "The same goal, huh? Tha-that's what this is all about? You and I have "the same goal"? I want to enrich a child's life, and give her a chance at happiness while your government keeps her locked away in some underground dungeon! And what do you want, huh? What could you and I possibly have in common that makes it seem like we have the same goal?"

General Pilotte snorted, pouring himself another glass of his rare scotch. "But, your goal is not limited to such a specific original intention, is it not? This very morning, when I went on a little morning jog with the President, I saw a pony holding up a little sign in the middle of the street, shouting for all the world to hear that ponies deserved more than what they had received. She was staging a one-mare protest, in the middle of downtown Lazarus. And on the way back, we saw three ponies being bodily hauled out of a 'humans only' cafe. Don't think for a moment that I don't know where that idea started. You want to see your people and my people as social and political equals here in Lazarus. I dream the same dream that you do; a nice, joyous little society where a pony gets everything he works for, and a human gets the same for his own work."

It was Lyra's turn to snort in derision. "What could you possibly want with ponies having equal rights?"

General Pilotte set down his glass, taking in a deep breath and letting out a sigh. Standing from his desk, he turned around, looking out the window and at Fort Greenewell. "You see them out there? By your own words, they are "Lazarus's finest". Each one of them is a disciplined soldier, proud of his country and his heritage. General Steel Specter of Equestria once told me that their very presence sent shivers down his spine, both in fear, and respect. And seeing them in combat made him glad that he was on their side. But, each one of them is also a human being. A human being who wants to settle down, build a life, and raise children. A human being that doesn't want to be a soldier forever. Tell me, Lyra, how long is a term of service for an Equestrian soldier?"

Lyra had to really think about that one. She thought back to the only Equestrian soldier she had ever really known, her old brother-in-law. He had originally done six years as his tour, but he had gone career at the promise of a fat pension. "I don't know, six or eight years?"

General Pilotte nodded, his gaze not even drifting away from his pride and joy marching and chanting out there in those training fields. "For us, it is anywhere between two and six, typically four. Four years of service before a soldier can honorably discharge back into society. Four years before a soldier can say that he paid his dues to society, and he can rest. Many of those soldiers out there, they have gone above and beyond the call of duty, and have served past their normal enlistments. They only stay on as soldiers because they believe they have to. But one day soon, they will sign their discharge papers and go make their families. And on that day, Terra will become weak, weaker than she has ever been before. Our entire army will dwindle away, and it will be eighteen years before the children born today reach the age where we can even ask them to serve their country. There will be a lag time of nearly two decades when this country has no worthwhile army."

And with that, all the pieces fell into place for Lyra. "Your country, your people, will be defenseless. You want to attract ponies to the Republic with the promise of equal rights... and entice them into military service. You want to turn Equestrian immigrants into Terran soldiers."

General Pilotte did not look away from his army of soon-to-be civilians, nodding slowly. "Who is more tenacious and unbreakable than an earth pony? Who can fly faster, see farther, and is a better natural scout than a pegasus? And whose magic is a better complement to human cleverness than a unicorn's? And that's only the beginning, think if we used gryphons, minotaurs, diamond dogs and so many others to fill the ranks! The perfect foot soldiers for the mightiest army in the world."

"That's... that's evil!" Lyra shouted. "You want ponies to have rights, just so they can lay down their lives for your people!"

The general turned slowly on his heels, glaring Lyra directly in the eye. "Evil? Do you think you know the definition of evil? Do you think you can fathom the inhumanities, the horrors, the evils that I have seen?" He reached to a drawer on his desk, pulling it open and withdrawing a small jewel box from it. Laying it down on the desk, he sat down in his chair, staring at the closed box. 

"Let me tell you a story, Lyra. Though most of my waking life has been dedicated to the military, to protecting the people I know and love, I was not born a soldier. No one is born a soldier. I was not even a particularly large child. I was just a boy from Alsace, living in the little countryside chateau that had belonged to my family for nearly a century. I lived my days of youth roaming the meadows and playing games to pass the warm summer days. But never, not once in my young life did I have many friends. I would often go to my maman, and say to them that all the other boys were mean to me, that they did not want me to play with them. And she would frown, and tears would come into her eyes. But never once did she say why, though somehow, I knew that she knew why I was a lonely child, why none of the other children or their parents would want me in their homes. But, every week, my grand-père... my grandpapa, he would visit my home, and he would make all my tears, and all my worries vanish. I never truly knew my papa, and my grandfather did his best to fill in that void. I loved him more than I loved life itself, and he always seemed to smile, no matter how bad life seemed to be. I grew up, learning what I knew about being a man from him, learning about the rights of all people, about how it was my duty as a man to protect everything I loved."

General Pilotte took a deep breath, pouring himself another glass of his scotch. "And one day, when I was in my teens, my grandpapa died. My mother begged me not to go to his funeral, she told me to let his spirit live on in my memory as it was. But I went. And when I passed by his open casket to give my respects to the man who had been as my father, I saw this on his lapel."

The general carefully opened the ring box in front of him. Swallowing his anxiety, he carefully pulled the lapel pin from its two thousand year resting place, and set it on the desk in front of Lyra. A small black cross, with four arms bent in the same direction at ninety degrees, on a red background. General Pilotte took a deep breath, controlling his emotions. "How does one take this? How is a boy supposed to learn that the man he loved with all his heart was a Nazi?"

And as soon as Lyra heard that word, her heart sank. In her studies of human history to hopefully learn any information that might be relevant to her case, she had stumbled upon that word in the history books. And she had read about how the Nazis had exterminated millions in a campaign of eugenic superiority. How they had starved, burned, poisoned, suffocated, shot, and mutilated millions of innocent souls and threatened the entire world with war.

"And when I showed this pin to my mother, she cried for days and days, screaming about how her father had caused all of her suffering and mine. She did not have the heart to tell me when I was a boy, that all the people in my town knew about his past, and how they scorned him for selling out their loved ones and relatives back in World War II. They avoided me because of his evil. And as I grew older, I looked at the world and saw the same evil that my grandfather had done all around the world. I joined the army to fight for good, to destroy what I believed to be evil. And at the time, when I enlisted in the Brigade des Forces Spéciales Terre, that evil had a face, the Soviet Union. I believed them to be evil because of what they did to their citizens, so much like the Nazis in their day. By the time I had advanced to the rank of Commander, the Cold War ended, the Soviet Union crumbled, and I was transferred as a part of a NATO alliance deal over to America. It was there, in Fort Bragg, I met the man who might fill my heart again as the father figure I had always desired, Nolan Esera, Commanding General of the United States Special Forces. He taught me that evil was always relative, that there were always two sides to every fight. But then, he was taken from us in the heat of the greatest battle of the Great War, by the man who bore that gun."

The general pointed a heavy finger to a display case on one of his many shelves. In it, an antique pistol lay, a pistol of Russian make and original bearing, a revolver that had once been the sidearm of Brigadier General Johnathan Winters, a man whose horrid ambition had sabotaged the entire campaign at Operation Hammerstrike, whose foolish orders had slaughtered ten thousand drafted civilians, and ultimately lost the War of the Fallen Race for humanity.

"So, Lyra, I know evil better than most men in this world. And though you may believe that what I intend to do is evil in nature, remember, I do this because I love my people. And as a man, I was taught to protect everything I love. You may call my motives "evil", but what is more evil, encouraging your kind to take up arms for the Republic, or sitting back while my kind gets annihilated?" Pilotte poured himself another glass of scotch, taking a solemn sip. "Some nights, I dream about all the missions, all the conflicts, all the wars I have seen and fought. All the evil that humanity has done to itself. And some nights, as I lay on the verge of dreaming, I find myself agreeing with Patterson's friend."

His story had struck a nerve in Lyra, and now she did not see a powerful and universally respected warrior, all she saw in Jean Pilotte was a man. A man who had endured more than his fair share of hardship, and many times, he might have done acts which would be ordained as evil, but always in the interest of the greater good. Perhaps she saw a man who sought to redeem himself and his ancestors.

Lyra knew she had found a possible friend in him.

Taking a gamble, her horn lit up with magic, levitating another glass from the cabinet and filling it from his bottle. She felt the scrutinizing eyes on her tense, preparing to rush in at the drop of a pin. Taking a sip from her glass, Lyra sat down in the chair that had been offered to her earlier. 

"Jean, if I may call you that, I believe that I might be able to see this from your angle a little more. Perhaps it would only be fair that if ponies were offered the same rights, that they do their civic duty as well. And perhaps our motives for our goal aren't so different after all. I only want to protect one human being, and raise her in a good place. But you, you want to protect all human beings. In a way, it's far more noble than my simple goal. Don't you agree?" she said coyly.

The Terran general grinned. "I'm glad we could come to such an understanding, Lyra."

"Now, barring the fact that I now know your life story, why am I here?"

General Pilotte nodded, pulling out a folder from his desk and laying it open for her to see. "I'm glad you asked, Mrs Heartstrings. My agents have been keeping very close tabs on your case, even sneaking back the stenographer's transcripts. And from what I've seen, you have made many good, valid points. In fact, your turnaround was nothing short of astonishing. As if someone has been coaching you." General Pilotte raised a questioning eyebrow, for he knew that she was getting help, but the source of it eluded his best efforts. The mare only responded with a coy smile. "But from today's transcripts, you seem to be attacking the broader issue, the restriction of rights on your people. I believe I can help you with that, or more specifically, I know someone who can help you prove that Equestrians deserve fair and equal rights."

"Oh?" Lyra quipped. "Who do you have in mind?" 

"Down in Delta Company, there's a soldier by the name of Johnathan Whistler. Talk to him, and you'll get all the evidence to support the rights of ponies in Lazarus that you'll need." The general steepled his fingers, leaning back in his chair with a grin. "I've even had a subpoena filled out for him."

Lyra picked the pink sheet of paper out of her file, scanning it. Looking up at the general, she cocked an eyebrow. "You forged my signature?"

The large man shrugged. "That was the easy part. You're a slippery mare, believe it or not. So much time around Patterson makes you nearly untouchable. Did you know he sweeps his entire house for bugs, daily?"

Of course Equestria lacked the electronic technology for spy tech like receivers, but they had magical equivalents that had plagued the Royal Castle years ago. And the mare thought for a moment that this truly was like the spy thrillers that her dad had always loved. Lyra chuckled under her breath. "And I thought he was just dusting."

General Pilotte finished his third glass of scotch, pressing a button on his desk. "Now Lyra, the men who brought you in earlier are going to escort you off base, with a few more manners this time. But, they're going to get lost along the way, and stop by the canteen on the way out. Your contact should be in there. And remember, this meeting, this conversation, it never happened. And even if you dream that it somehow did occur, the government and I have plausible deniability."

Lyra rose from her chair, finishing off her glass of scotch and taking the subpoena. "You know, a few minutes ago I thought you were going to torture me, murder me and leave my body in the woods. I'm kinda glad we talked, Jean."

The general blinked at her as though she had just appeared in his office in a puff of smoke. "Talked about what?"

Lyra raised an eyebrow in confusion, but she suddenly caught on to the general's drift, forming her mouth into an O shape. "Gotcha," she said with a wink.

"Madam, these premises are off limits to civilians, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," General Pilotte said sternly to her. Whereas Lyra joked about it, General Pilotte looked ready to draw his sidearm at any moment. She very quickly made her way out the door.


****************************************


The trio of Terran espionage agents had waited patiently and stiffly outside the general's office, and once Lyra stepped out the door, clutching a few more papers in her magical grip, they wordlessly fell into position around her again. She didn't even have to say a word, yet she already could tell that they were taking her to another part of the base, and not back towards the market.

She trotted much more easily around the dangerous spies, knowing that they were under orders not to damage a minty hair on her body. And when they left the odd sterility of the offices and made their way out into the sun baked tarmac and training fields, Lyra got to wondering: What kind of a man was Johnathan Whistler? How could talking to him help her case? Was he some kind of a civil rights lawyer, perhaps a family law specialist? And if so, what was he doing serving in the Terran Army?

And when the mare and her escorts approached a large building, she knew that she might have her answer very soon. She could see half-fatigued soldiers through the window, lounging around, shooting pool or just sitting in front of a fan, half asleep in the growing summer heat.

Again, her escorts stopped at the door. The man in the black coat nodded to her and waved her in. Taking a deep breath, Lyra went head first into a place filled with people that no polite civilian should ever be around: off-duty soldiers. 

The hall was fairly quiet, a few men and women in partial uniform chatted lowly, and the clack of a billiard ball being struck by a pool cue were the loudest things overall. The place had a smell that could easily be bottled, advertised, and sold to kill small rodents. A mixture of sweat, blood, a few tears, some homemade alcohol, and the curious scent of motor oil and petroleum.

Lyra was repulsed, yet fascinated, by this display of the human warrior at rest, so similar to their Equestrian counterparts in all those military bars Lyra had frequented years ago during her global hunt for evidence of these very creatures. For a bare moment, she wished she had a camera. 

"Excuse me," she said to a man kicked back in a chair by the wall. The soldier's light snoring cut short, and he stretched out, leaning forward in his chair.

"Hmm, wha' sup?" he asked groggily. Noticing a pony addressing him, he rubbed his eyes, just in case this was some kind of odd dream. 

"I'm looking for 'Johnathan Whistler'?" she asked. 

The soldier cocked an eyebrow, then shrugged. "One sec, HEY JOHNNY!" he yelled across the hall. "You got a visitor! Looks conjugal!" The last comment raised a few wolf whistles, and when Private First Class Johnathan Whistler raised his head, Lyra suddenly understood why he might be pivotal to her case.

He was tall, with blonde hair that was cut very short like all the soldiers of the Republic, silvery-gray eyes, an easy stride, and a charming smile. 

Not to mention, a very nice pair of wings.

The soldier walked over to the mare, a big smile adorning his face at the prospect of a visitor, conjugal or not. "Are you looking for me, ma'am?" 

Lyra's jaw hung slack. Her eyes flicked over the body of Private Johnathan Whistler, making sure he wasn't one of those "pantomime horses" that Aaron had once joked about. His hooves seemed solid, his fur was clean and even, but he had the close cropped mane cut of a human, and he wore an oddly oversized army fatigue shirt.

"Ma'am?" Whistler asked, cocking an eyebrow at her silence.

"You? You're Private Whistler?" she said in disbelief. Somehow, she hadn't figured General Pilotte's ambitious plan to incorporate non-human creatures in the armed forces would come so... quickly.

The pegasus flashed a grin, snapping her an impromptu salute. "Private First Class Johnathan Whistler, 248-34-4492, Delta Company of the Republic of Terra's Third Army Division, at your service."

"But... but.... Johnathan is a-"

"Human name? Yeah, I get that a lot. I'll explain." He ushered Lyra over to a quieter table, one that was unfortunately far from all the fans. 

Lyra seemed to snap out of her funk once the soldier sat her down, and she quickly remembered her manners and extended a hoof in greeting. "I'm so sorry, I'm-"

"Lyra Heartstrings," Whistler finished for her. "Sorry, your picture has been all over the papers lately. Couldn't help but recognize you. And besides, I got a letter from the general saying you might be coming." The stallion took her hoof and politely shook, grinning widely. 

Lyra blinked at her apparent fame, or perhaps her infamy. And it stunned her as to how much General Pilotte had planned this. But there were a few things she had to know about this strange stallion. "So, um, Johnny, what's with the name?"

"I changed it," he said cheerily. "When I first came here, I was just plain ol' Tin Whistle, and when I applied for citizenship, I decided that maybe I should change it to something a little more human. "Johnathan" was the first name the Immigration Services guy could think of, and it kind of stuck. Besides, it just sounds like one of those names that sticks with you, "Johnny Whistler"," the stallion said his name with a certain reverence.

The mare shrugged, feeling that his current name felt more dignified anyways. "So, Mr Whistler, I'm sure you've heard about my case." Whistler nodded, and Lyra continued. "I've come to a point where I need statements other than my own to influence the Justices. And, well, a few people who choose to remain anonymous pointed me to you. So, I have to ask you, what's your story? How are you here today?"

The soldier pony smiled with pride as he launched into his fond reminiscence. "Well, where do I start?"

"Why did you come to the Republic? What makes a pony like Tin Whistle into Johnathan Whistler?" Lyra asked.

Private Whistler blushed a bit under his fur. "It's kind of embarrassing, but I used to be kind of a kook about humans. You know, before all the stuff happened, before even Princess Luna came back. I grew up believing that ponykind couldn't have come this far without something behind it. I would look at doorknobs and wonder why ponies even put them there, since only unicorns could use them. I would look at string instruments that could only be used with wing feathers, and question how we came to use them. And did you ever wonder what was the deal with saddles?"

"What do you mean?" Lyra asked, cocking an eyebrow. She herself owned a saddle or two, and she never really questioned what they were good for. (Other than the kinky things that she and Bonbon had done involving plenty of saddles and black spandex.)

"Humans were the ones who originally made saddles!" Whistler exclaimed. "Ponies used to be much bigger, and way back thousands of years ago, we could carry them on our backs! I got so much crap for that all through school. All the other colts would tease me for believing in imaginary creatures, for questioning the history teacher when he told us that pony history started at the Tribal Unification."

In all her days of human conspiracy theorism, that thought had never occurred to her. 

He's a stallion after my own heart, she thought to herself. If only I'd met him before I met Bonbon. And if only I was into stallions.

"And what brought you to the Republic?"

The stallion patted his shoulder and the emblem of the Terran phoenix. "You know what I wore before I wore the phoenix? The emblem of the sun eclipsed by a crescent moon. The symbol of the Equestrian Royal Army. That's right, before I was a soldier, I was a soldier, just serving under a different flag. When the Grand Galloping Gala was interrupted by a human being wielding magic and the entire army went in pursuit of him, I was one of the stallions that marched westward. I knew I was marching to a bloodbath, but deep inside of myself, I knew that I was right, that my entire life had not been wasted. Human beings were real, heck, I was chasing one! And when they signed the Armistice, and the Royal Army withdrew, I got my discharge papers and stayed behind."

Whistler chuckled to himself, running a hoof over his short mane. "I can't tell you how many weeks I slept in a tent on the edge of Fort Greenewell, hoping that each morning I would be able to go out and say hello to a few of the creatures that had fascinated me since my foalhood. And once the other ponies started building homes and businesses, I tried to get involved, but these hooves weren't made to swing a hammer. I tried everything to help out humankind; I tried growing crops, building homes, even pulling out some of the heavier stuff from the Vault. But no matter what, it just didn't feel right. I felt that I just wasn't giving all that I could. And one morning, it hit me. There was nothing in life that I hadn't excelled at more than serving my country. So I went to the Immigration Offices, made myself an official citizen, and then marched myself over to the recruiting station."

"And how was that taken? When I tried to adopt a human child, they turned my away. Heck, they insulted me!" said Lyra.

"I'll admit, it took a little while. The man working the recruitment station had to go get one of his superiors, and he had to go get one of his superiors, and so on and so forth, until there was nearly the entire recruitment branch of the military sitting there, scratching their heads and wondering what to do. After nearly six hours of debate and trying to find some kind of precedent, they decided to let basic training do the work for them. They let me in, and I went on to boot."

Lyra scribbled this all down. It could be used as evidence of usury on the part of the Terran government, accepting a pony to fight for them, but not allowing a pony to cast a vote or eat in the same building. "And what do your comrades think about you? What do they think about an Equestrian being in the same unit as them?"

"Equestrian?" Whistler said. "No no no, I'm not an Equestrian. If anything, I'm an ex-patriot. I renounced my Equestrian citizenship, and now I'm fully Terran." Lyra was speechless. Private Whistler had gone so far above his dedication to humanity than her that he had renounced his own country of birth to be more like them. It made her and her endeavor to make ponies closer as equals look like child's play. "But that's beside the point I guess. These guys here didn't like me at first. They'd call me things, trash my bunk so I'd fail inspection, and just tried to get rid of me in general. But I stuck to it, and a few patrols and a few broken bones later, I'm just one of the guys."

"Broken bones?" Lyra asked.

"Yeah, I'm the medic for my unit. You know, since I can't really hold a gun without fingers," he said with a chuckle, holding up his digitless hooves. "I tried it once with my teeth, but that was the day I learned that an M-4 Carbine has a lot more kick if it's in your face." Again, the pony soldier laughed out loud, leaving the completely oblivious mare in the dark. Whatever an "M-4" was, she felt that she didn't want to meet one in a dark alleyway.

Lyra looked down at her notes, scratching her neck in some confusion. "So, let me get this all straightened out. You immigrated from Equestria because you believed in human beings, and you believed that they would accept you as an equal. You've put your life on the line for their protection, and more than once you've even saved their lives. What possessed you to do this? Doesn't the fact that Terran law forbids us from voting anger you or offend you? Or that we ponies can't express our freedom of speech with fear of getting arrested? Doesn't that bother you?"

Whistler's normally jovial face melted into a more somber expression. "Of course it does. But I don't like to think that way. I look in this hall here, and you know what I see? People. Sure, some of them are loud-mouthed, obnoxious, and on more than one occasion they tried to sit on my back and ride into the sunset, but I don't see humans. I see people. Look, Mrs Heartstrings, I came to the Republic because I believed in humanity, but I stayed because I fell in love with their culture. I love their art, their music, their food, their... everything! I love the idea of democracy so much that I'm willing to put myself in harm's way, even if I don't get to partake in it. I do what I do, because I love humanity."

Whistler's impassioned speech had touched a part of Lyra that she had been repressing lately. That little portion of her heart that loved everything that was human unconditionally. And here she had been, trying to tear them down and turn them back into the demons that Equestrian folklore had remembered them as from ages past. Lyra felt ashamed of herself for letting that part of her get so buried under all the stress and tribulation of the past few months.

"Mr Whistler sir, in the interest of the greater good of humanity and ponykind, would you be willing to say that in court?"


*******************************************


Far across the city, in the industrial complex called the Slagworks by those who worked there, a greater part of the creature social revolution was underway.

Mr Mackenzie sat in his office, filling out one of his many response letters to his customers in Equestria and Kali'Gryph. Each and every one was brimming with positive things to say about the high quality, and more importantly, the high volume of Terran steel. Ponies and gryphons made their steel the old fashioned way, taking an individual chunk of iron ore, heating it as hot as they could in a ladle, and blowing air through a pipe to hopefully even out the carbon content. With such a painstaking process to make quality steel, it was no wonder neither of the Republic's nearby allies had any worthwhile industrial complex. It could also explain why they seemed to value iron over more easily smeltable metals like gold.

And while it took a pony smith nearly a day to get a few pounds of ore smelted into just the right alloy, it took the Slagworks only a few minutes to get several tons of slag superheated and processed. Though the smiths of Equestria hated the industrial efficiency that threatened to put them out of business, their clientele loved dealing with Chester Mackenzie. And Mackenzie loved helping them with their problem of having too much gold on their hooves.

Finishing another letter to Baron Aldo of Kali'Gryph, a client of his that liked to boast about how well Mackenzie's steel was performing beyond his expectations, the president of the steel company kicked back in his chair, glancing over at a picture of his idol that hung on the dingy wall of his office.

"Ah, Carnegie you Scottish bastard, we're two of a kind, aren't we?" he said to the black and white photograph of the great steel industrialist and philanthropist. And Chester had been trying to emulate the great philanthropist, commissioning a few of those statues in the park, and even throwing a little funding each month towards the theatrical company that did Shakespeare plays every weekend. 

Life was good to him, and he was good to life.

Or at least, on the outside he was good to life. There were a few.... "corners", he had cut. And those corners that he had been cutting were about to rise up and bite his ass so hard that it would take a prybar and the grace of god to get it off.

His relaxation was cut short by a frantic knock on his office door.

"Mr Mackenzie sir! There's a situation outside!" the voice shouted through the door.

Mackenzie rolled his eyes, looking at the clock. "Can it wait?"

"Sir, you're gonna want to see this," the dirty steelworker said, poking his head into the office. The president of the steel company quickly followed, thinking that perhaps another catastrophic accident had shut down the entire production floor again, and how much of his own money would have to go towards actually making sure his factory was up to par on safety measures.

What he saw both calmed his nerves, and simultaneously annihilated any possible hope of a good night's sleep he would have for the next three days. Standing just outside the factory doors, blocking the human workers from getting in, was the entire working force of the Stoneclaw pack. And standing with them, young Jimmy, his arm still in a sling.

"Howell! What the hell is this!" Mackenzie shouted to the young steelworker. "You get those damn dogs out of the way and get back to the floor!"

The young man stood firm with his newfound diamond dogs companions, and he shouted back, "We represent the First United Steelworkers Union!"

Mackenzie trembled with a mixture of rage and shock. "Steelworkers Union?!"

"Yeah! And we are here to make sure that every person," he said with emphasis, looking to his diamond dog fellows with a grin, "gets what they deserve! No more dangerous work places!"

"Yeah!" the former Stoneclaw pack shouted, together their voices shaking the ground.

"Equal pay!"

"Yeah!"

"Health benefits!"

"Yeah!"

"Better hours! No more foremen acting like slave drivers! And most importantly, we want government recognition! And until we get all of this, The United Steelworkers of Lazarus are on strike!"


> Diplomatic Immunity
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aaron walked down one of the many residential streets of Lazarus, thumbs jammed into his pockets, an easy swagger to his step, and an incomprehensible hum escaping his lips. He had nothing really scheduled for the day; Lyra had disappeared for the convention of her court case early that morning, his girlfriend was working on a case of her own, and all his little agar plate cultures of human and pony gastrointestinal micro-flora seemed to be getting along just fine. Just as he had hypothesized they would. How could they not, considering that most of them seemed to be related strains of bacteria!

The man snapped back to mindfulness for a moment, wondering what tune he had been humming to himself. It wasn't something that he had ever really heard or learned before, yet it came so easily that he doubted that it was simply improvised by a bored mind. Thinking for a moment about that tune, the only memories he could conjure of it brought images of swaying banks of papyrus reeds, a field of delicate shoots pushing through the hard soil by the riverside, and the smile of an olive-skinned woman as she welcomed him home from a long day toiling in the fields. 

"Was I just humming something from ancient Egypt?" he wondered aloud. Without another thought about the subject, he shrugged it off and kept on meandering down the streets of Lazarus. It wasn't like the memories of humanity's past assaulted him every moment of the day, they only seeped in when he let his guard down. But he had to wonder what was the real cause of it all; his psionic-symbiosis with the spirit of a deity, or his magical talents of speaking with the souls of those who had passed on. 

Either way, he wouldn't let it overwhelm him. And he especially wouldn't let it hurt the people around him. If anything, he would use it to help people as much as he could. Which is why he had decided to check in on a friend today, to see if he needed any help or information to assist in his current endeavor. 

Which, by all reports, was not going according to either plan or fitting of its allotted schedule. And the powers-that-be had decided that maybe he should take a whack at trying to get the project moving along.

He passed through the marketplace along his way to the industrial quarter, and almost immediately he noticed things were off, even more so than usual. The normally happy-go-lucky ponies stood in groups, holding up their signs and their banners, shouting about crimes against equality that occurred within the city.  

The man gave a wide berth to that group of ponies, not wanting to be seen publicly as a supporter, even as much as he was a supporter of ponies getting the same rights as human beings. He just had someplace to be right now. Walking along the sidewalk, carelessly perusing the store windows for anything that might tickle his fancy, his walk was interrupted by another display of the growing movement. And at the same time, the growing response to the pony movement.

A pair of military police charged past Aaron into a small cafe, making him stumble back when they nearly knocked him over. Aaron stopped, peering into the window to see what the commotion was. Inside, a pair of earth ponies sat defiantly at a table, staring up at the Terran MPs who had been called to remove them. Over behind the counter, the shop's owner stood with her arms folded, a scowl adorning her face as she waited for the guards to remove the creatures from her premises. 

"We're not moving an inch until we get our drinks," the stallion of the pair said firmly to the soldier. 

The MP reached to his belt, whipping out a pair of handcuffs and placing his free hand on a holstered stun gun. "Sir, this establishment is humans-only. Now, you need to respect the wishes of the owner, and leave!"

"I'll leave after my wife and I get our sodas," said the stallion, staring the MP right in the eye. He stayed firm, and he stared back at the MP with the determination of one who fought for what they believed. Aaron grinned to himself, knowing that the stallion and the mare had come here with quenching their thirst as the last thing on their minds. They'd come here as a challenge. They had laid down their gauntlet, and now it was the guard's turn to make his move.

The MP forcefully grabbed the stallion's foreleg, slapping a cuff around his hoof and quickly spouting out his severely abridged Miranda Rights. The stallion struggled against his forceful arrest, but the guard managed to get the other shackle around his other hoof, forcing the pony down to the floor, putting his knee between the pony's shoulders.

The other guard dealt just as roughly with the mare, though she complied as well as she could. A few moments after the scuffle had begun, and both of the earth ponies were bodily hauled from the cafe while the guards who had taken them grumbled and groaned about how many times they had encountered this very scene several times already.

Aaron stood back, shaking his head in shame at the actions of the MPs and the store owner. Though it was their inalienable right to refuse service to whomever they pleased or it was simply their job, he couldn't help but feel that they weren't handling this like civilized people should. 

"It'll all pay off," he murmured to himself. "All roads have their bumps, and the road to peace and stability is a bone-jarring one." Again he paused, wondering whether that expression had been his own, or whether it had been a snippet from another time and place, spoken by a person wholly separate than himself. How could he be sure?

These memory infiltrations were starting to bother him in a bad way. And for a moment, he felt like he should talk to a doctor, a psychiatrist, or maybe even a wizard. Once again, he shook off the chilling feeling of wondering what parts of his mind were actually his own.

But there was always one thing that chased off these weird occurrences of deja-vu, and he slipped the ear buds of his old music player into his ear, playing a couple songs from his own lifetime. The ghosts of mankind's achievements and its sins fled before the rock and roll onslaught of Robert Plant, Gene Simmons, and Trent Reznor. And after that, the jaunt through the market seemed to melt away into a nice, music filled little sojourn.

And he could hardly believe that he only got time for four songs before he almost passed by the building where he needed to be. Lazarus' industrial district loomed all around him, and even with his ear buds in, Aaron could tell that just like with the marketplace, not all was well within the center of industry. Over by the famed Slagworks, a picket-line of sign toting diamond dogs all blocked the entrance to the factory, led by a young man whose arm was in a sling. And by the loading docks of the steel factory, mountains of ore shipments piled up with nobody to smelt them.

And barely visible through his office window across the street, Aaron could see Mr Mackenzie staring at the unionized hounds, lightly banging his head on the glass of the window over and over again.

How the hell did he not see this coming? Aaron thought to himself. Until someone had actually had the pity to pay them, the Stoneclaws had been little more than slaves in the factory, with the only benefit of their considerable labor being a cheap, communal, government house on the edge of the city and a small stipend of food every week. "Good for them," he concluded, ending his train of thought. 

And finally, he came to it. The steam engine workshop, where Terra's true workhorses came for maintenance and repairs. And where a friend of his was designing and building an engine that he said would outdo all the others in terms of performance. Of course, his obsession with making the perfect engine was infringing on his actual duties.

He entered the grimy machine shop through the open garage-style door, and almost immediately he ran into something that surprised and confused him. 

"Woah," he said as he bumped into an earth pony mare carrying a large crescent wrench in her teeth. "Sorry ma'am."

"No big deal, sir," she replied, setting down her burden. "Can I help you with something?"

"Yes you can, actually. I'm looking for Chief Engineer Mattson, is he around?" Aaron asked the mare as she wiped off as much grease from her face as she could with a filthy rag.

She nodded heartily. "Yeah, I'll get him. HEY BOSS!" she shouted across the shop. "Someone's here to see you! I think it might be that auditor that you were warning us about!"

A young man appeared atop the partially completed steam engine in the middle of the shop, dressed in a welder's mask, a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a healthy sheen of machine shop grime. "Damn it, Toola Roola! I said to discreetly warn me if he showed up! There goes the entire escape plan!" Rich stopped himself, taking off his welder's mask and tossing it off to the side. Spying nobody but Mr Patterson, he cracked a wide grin. "Ah, he's not for our money."

Rich Mattson hopped down from the top of his huge steam engine, tossing out a hand in greeting. "How's your hammer hangin', Patterson?"

Aaron clasped the engineer's hand firmly. "Alright. Seen better times, but trust me, I've seen a hell of a lot worse than this. How you been, Rich? Last time I saw you, you were headed up north with a quarter of the nation's dynamite."

"Been good," the engineer replied. "So, what brings you to my neck of the woods?"

"Well, I was in Lazarus for a few weeks, thought I should check in on a few friends, make sure things stay chipper around here. Besides, the brass think that I might be able to help out around the shop somehow."

Rich scoffed at that, folding his arms across his chest. "Pfft, they've been on me for weeks now about finishing up my new engine." A grin crossed the engineer's face, and looked over to his almost finished steam engine. "So what do you think?" he asked the biologist, indicating his most recent project.

Aaron stared at it for a moment, cocking an eyebrow and tapping his chin in thought. "I got it, it's your next big plan to catch the roadrunner!"

Rich stared incredulously at Aaron. "Are you saying that this fine piece of machinery looks like it will explode into a million pieces after falling off some random cliff?"

Aaron bit his lip, his eyes shifting around, looking for an escape. ".... Maybe."

“Well, catching the roadrunner is NOT this thing’s job, Patterson. Pulling heavy ore trains is.” replied Richard with a twinkle in his eye. This was something he dearly enjoyed talking about. “You see, this is what I call a 90 ton mike. I built this off a pattern in a book. I have but I made changes to it that make it even better than the original. So no, it’s not built to catch the roadrunner.”

“Eh,” Aaron replied. “I still say that this looks like something that the coyote built out of an Acme crate. As you were saying?”

“There is a ton of stuff left to put on, but most of it is complete. The test fire of the boiler is to happen in... hey Toola! When did I set the test fire for?!” shouted the loud man.

She returned fire from across the shop, “3 DAYS!”

Rich turned back to Aaron. “There ya have it, in three days smoke will be shooting out of the stack and once the pressure is up I can test everything,” he said with a giant grin

“That’s good,” Aaron replied, nodding his head but completely out of his league. “But the brass has been saying that you were supposed to be in Canada two weeks ago. They just want you to use the other engines and plow north.”

“Ah, I see. That's not possible. If I used the engines I would need all of them. Whats gonna haul all your passenger trains then?”

Aaron smiled at that, chuckling at the futility of it all. “Heh, typical politicians, wanting things that can’t be done. But I'm not really here for the technicals, I'm here to make sure things go smoothly between us and the northern nations. I know for a fact that the Crystals won’t mind our company up north, but somebody else might have something to say.”

“As far as I know there aren't anymore... beings up there that we have to watch out for. Somethin’ you’re not tellin’ me?” said Rich, arching an eyebrow.

Aaron sheepishly rubbed his neck. “Well, technically the whole north is basically unincorporated wilderness. Nobody owns any of it, except for the crystal ponies. It’s the people who aren't associated with any nation that are my concern. I mean, there’s gryphon bandit clans that were politically exiled by King Osgul, then there’s some of the nobles of the Crystal Empire trying to restake their claims on old holds, and then once we get far enough, then we have to start worrying about caribou and trolls! We could play it safer by skirting closer to the outer territories of the Crystal Empire, but that would add so much more length to the track. Or, if we choose to just rough it out in the sticks, we’d have to have full companies of soldiers patrolling the tracks twenty-four seven. And since there’s going to be thousands of miles of tracks, that’s a logistical nightmare!”

“More track means more maintenance which means more money. Both you and me know that this country doesn't have the cash to throw at that. But, if we could somehow get some more help from the ponies with their magic acts and what not, we might be able to hold the tracks together with no work at all. But then comes the infrastructure to take care of the engines which takes time to build.” Rich took a breather after his long moment of rattling.

The biologist thought for a moment, mentally crunching some numbers and wondering if it was possible. “Can your engines run on charcoal?”

“They can, but not near as efficiently as good old coal. Coal burns WAY hotter than anything else out there, other than oil, which we don't have,” stated the engineer

“Damn,” Aaron softly swore. “After a certain latitude, it all becomes pine trees anyways. So that’s out of the question. Shit, maybe we will have to increase the coal imports. The Senate is going to hate me for even suggesting that. Wait a second, how about peat? Once you chisel off the permafrost, most of the tundra is peat bogs. The crystal ponies on the fringes of the Empire and a lot of the northern miners cut peat in the summer to warm their homes.”

Rich shrugged his shoulders. “It could work, but just like charcoal it doesn’t burn nearly as hot. Plus we’d have to stockpile so much of the stuff that it would take a whole company of workers just to cut enough. Hey, how much of the Northwest belongs to our crystal pals?” questioned the puzzled engineman.

“Not much of it. Pretty much nobody owns that. Just more wilderness that a few tribal creatures live in.”

Rich put a hand to his chin and gently tugged on his scruff, “Well, if I remember correctly there are coal mines stuffed into the rockies of British Columbia. If we can work our way there we just might be able to make it and gain another resource while we are at it.”

“But then we run into the problem of maintaining a mine in wild territory as well as laying all the tracks just to get there, and I know the government jerks won't pay for something like that unless that have some kind of insurance. Ugh,” the other man groaned. “This is all getting too complex, how about we go get a frosty cold one while we think this over?”

“I think that's a great idea! Toola, you know what needs to be done right?” shouted Richard

“Install the superheater flues and the elements!” she replied as she lugged over a bundle of pipes with another pony

“CORRECT! I’ll make a master steam mechanic out of you yet!”

The two men exited through the door of the mechanic shop, walking down the streets of the industrial district. “So, what’s with the ponies? You leading the way as an equal opportunity employer?”

“Damn right! Sure, they don’t have our dexterity, but they’re good workers and love to learn. In fact, I have noticed that they want to do this stuff more than anyone else! I think it’s because all the humans have seen the work of diesel and gas and hate the hard work of shoveling coal and tossing wood,” chuckled the young man

“Tell me about it. My roommate here in Lazarus picked up on how to be her own lawyer in one night. Talk about efficient.”

“The ponies continue to amaze me, Aaron. Their willingness to help is astounding.” he said with a smile, “Kinda reminds me of when I was young... well younger anyways.”

Aaron rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Don't start on the age confusion. Though it's been a while, biologically you're just a year older than when we were put under. Chronologically though, we're older than most of today's redwoods."

The two men meandered through the dirty streets of the industrial district, idly chatting away the summer's heat, walking slowly despite both of their cravings for a cold beer. Their chatter wandered like their footsteps, ranging from the serious issue of begging Equestria to loan some more cash or coal to "Damn, look at that one! She deserves a passage in a Tijuana Bible."

The two men wandered around the market for a little while, just talking the day away when they finally came to a place where they could wet their metaphorical whistles. But before Aaron could walk in the door of Abraham's Pub, Rich placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him from crossing the threshold. 

"Hey, you sure you want a drink here? I know this place down the street a ways, the beer's cheaper, and it's a pony joint to boot."

Aaron shrugged, not knowing the reputation that Abraham's had for being the haunt of those people who would be more opposed to the plight of Terra's creature citizens. "Hey, we're already here, and it's on me."

Rich shook his head and muttered to himself as the other man blazed the trail into possibly hostile territory. Walking into the bar proper, the odd pair of the engineer and the mage drew a few curious looks, but seeing nothing but a pair of men with sweat on their brows, they turned back to their cold glasses and their low conversations. 

The mage sat cheerily down at the bar, swiveling in his stool to face the hefty barkeeper. Rich reluctantly took the seat next to him, feeling the disapproving and prying eyes of the other patrons glaring at his back. Lazarus' chief engineer had a reputation for being extremely good and giving to both ponies and the diamond dogs, and more than one person in the bar might have some unjustified feeling that because he gave a job to a pony, he deprived them of a job that they didn't want or need. It was the issue with illegal immigration in the twenty-first century all over again, except this time around the people taking those jobs were citizens.

And Rich couldn't help but feel some of the same concern for poor, unwitting Aaron. The extreme conservatives of the city often spoke of him as a pariah or a devil walking around in what used to be an honest man's skin. If anything, Aaron was more at risk by coming in here than he was, but at least he had the threat of magic on his side.

"Barkeep! Two pints, cold as you can get 'em!" said Aaron to the bartender. 

Two frosty mugs of amber ale slid in front of the mage, who greedily grabbed up his pint and drained away a quarter of it in a few gulps. Rich took a more careful drink from his, his eyes flicking over his shoulder to peer at the crowd behind him.

Aaron slammed down his glass, letting out a satisfied sigh. "So, Rich, you a big hunter? Back in Canterlot, that one time when you, me, and McGoff all sat down for dinner with their Royal Majesties, you talked about heading out for some fresh venison."

"Hunter? Yeah, I enjoy hunting as much as the next man, if not more," the engineer replied, still distracted by watching Aaron's back as well as his own.

Aaron smiled, laughing at some joke that only he knew. "Then I have a treat for you! And maybe just a little more incentive to make ol' Prometheus back there in the shop chug on up north." Aaron grabbed a bar napkin, folding it into a tiny little square and pressing it into his flat open palm. Pressing his other hand on the folded napkin, he closed his hand into a fist and closed his eyes. A tingle entered the air, and a musical chiming that was a sign of magic sang from the green aura around Aaron's hand.

Opening his eyes and finishing his spell, he unfolded the bar napkin and laid out a nearly perfect map of the Frozen North. "M'kay, here's the Crystal Empire, down here next to this beer stain." He placed his finger on the tiny nation of the crystal ponies. "And up here, all this is what used to be the Yukon, Nunavut, British Columbia, even Alaska, it's all this wonderfully empty wilderness. And you know what's up here? Only a safari hunter's dream come true!"

Rich cocked an eyebrow, diverting his attention from the possible threat into genuine interest. "What do you mean by that? Alaska was already a safari hunter's dream." Truly it was, with the abundant populations of bears, moose, caribou, and dozens of other game species.

"Now it's even better! Tell me Rich, have you ever been to the Chicago Field Museum? Or any museum of natural history for that matter?"

"Where you going with this?"

Aaron folded up his map, cupping his hands around the paper napkin and blowing a stream of his breath into it. The glow and chime of magic came again, and when he opened up his hands, the napkin had morphed into a little origami sculpture. A rather animated one of a tiny elephant. The small pachyderm trumpeted squeakily, lumbering down the bar. Aaron chuckled to himself. "You ever seen a woolly mammoth before?"

Rich's jaw dropped and his eyes grew wide. "You've got to be joking me. You're saying that I can hunt my very own woolly mammoth?!"

"Not just that, there's sabre-toothed tigers up there too. And don't forget the giant bears! The territory they call Snowreach is like a microcosm of the Pleistocene Era! And don't get me started on the monsters. Did you know that they have some kind of a pygmy dragon up there that breathes ice?"

Rich slapped his hands over his ears. "Stop it! Stop it! Stop tempting me!"

"No limits, no seasons! Hell, I might have to join you!" Aaron taunted.

Rich removed his hands from his head, taking a drink from his glass. "Since when did clerics of nature gods have an interest in hunting?"

Aaron scoffed, taking another slug from his beer. "You kidding me? Big game hunting is in my blood. My great grandfather John Henry Patterson killed the Man Eaters of Tsavo. And who could forget my great uncle Roger Patterson, who shot that famous footage of Bigfoot. Who, by the way, is very real," the man said smugly.

"Any other famous Pattersons you want to claim you're related to while you're at it?" Rich asked, his voice carrying a tone laced with skepticism.

Aaron thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Nope. Though the 'six degrees of separation' rule does back my claim. Well, nowadays its more like two degrees of separation."

The two men let their guard down and continued to chatter about their nonsensical exploits and their outrageous claims. 

But over at a table not too far away, someone with a bone to pick was having a little too much to drink. Alex Sanders slammed down another shot of whiskey, his fourth so far, and wondered why things were so crappy in his life right now. His boss had placed him on probation after the Heartstrings scandal went public, he'd been confined to a dingy desk under two hundred feet of rock, and his house payment was way past due. And lastly, the girl of his dreams, (his current dreams at least) had been stolen away by some suave jerk.

A few of his friends sat in the seat around him, big men who were steelworkers, a few farmers from the outskirts of the city, and even a couple of discharged soldiers. They understood him and why he was right to say 'no' to that damn pony when the rest of the government was condemning him for doing just that. Filling up a fifth shot, Alex shakily tried to drain it down, spilling a little bit in doing so.

"Hey, slow it down, light weight. Happy hour isn't for another five hours," one of his farmer buddies commented. 

"Shut up, Gary," he snidely replied. When one of his other buddies tried to take the bottle and pour himself a drink, Alex batted his hand away and pulled the bottle closer.

"What's up your ass?" his thirsty friend inquired.

"None of your business, that's what."

"Hey, we're your pals, you can tell us anything. And besides, if it's good enough, we're gonna tell everybody!" That jibe got a few laughs from the table, and Alex sneered at his friend who had said it.

"Laugh it up, jerk-offs, it's not gonna make it better!" he barked. 

"Seriously though, what bug crawled up your ass and died this time?" his farmer friend reiterated. 

Alex hovered over his glass, wondering if it was really worth saying. "Some jerk stole my girl," he muttered. 

His compatriots nodded knowingly. "Ah, lady trouble. Gotcha."

The table fell silent, each man awkwardly keeping a hand on his glass and shifting his eyes around. Until his steelworker friend decided that the issue needed to be pressed. "So, what are you gonna do about it?"

"Do about it? What do you mean?" Alex asked. 

"I said what I meant. What. Are you. Going to. Do about it. You gonna kick this guy's ass? Show him who's boss around here. Sweep the lady off her feet with a show of machismo! Or are you just gonna let it chew up your insides and make you a pitiful, whiny little pussy?"

Alex swayed around in his seat, having too much whiskey in him to argue. Looking down at his whiskey, he slugged the whole shot and slammed it down on the table. "I've got an ass to kick."

His buddies clapped him on the shoulder, encouraging their shrimpy friend less out of a sense of compatriotism, and more out of a sense of boredom. It would be entertaining to watch Alex stumble around the streets of Lazarus, drunkenly trying to pick fights with guys quite possibly much bigger than himself. And as his "friends" they might chip in on his bail to bust him out of the drunk tank. Or maybe his hospital bill, if it went that far.

All of his buddies took this as the chance to steal the bottle back, and they each took a hearty drink while Sanders busied himself by getting pumped to wander the streets of Lazarus, looking for either that jerk, or Anita. Whichever came first. And as the fates seemed to ordain, the fogged haze of his vision barely caught the familiar trim of Patterson's short brown hair, and the modest build of his body. Frankly, Aaron Patterson matched the description of about eighty percent of the skinny white-boy population of Old World America, but there are parts of the human brain that defy even the most drunken haze, parts that do not forget the sight of a rival male so easily. 

"Holy shit," Alex swore under his breath. "That's him!" 

His drinking buddies cocked their eyebrows, wondering what he meant by that, and warily eyeing the bottle of whiskey. Few of them knew the true power of gryphon whiskey, and more than one of them hoped to god that Alex was just rambling, and not hallucinating from the drink.

"What are you talking about?" his soldier friend asked, gently placing a hand on Alex's shoulder.

The ginger-haired social worker jabbed a shaky finger in the general direction of the bar. "That guy, right there! He stole my woman! And he made me look like a jackass in front of the whole office!"

They all peered over at the bar, seeing that the only two men even remotely close to where Alex had pointed was the engineer and his scientist friend. The soldier, taking a sip from his drink, choked on the hard whiskey when he recognized the pair. "Woah! Alex, I think you might want to just let this one go. That guy, and I pray to Jesus that you're talking about the grease-monkey, not the lab-coat, is kind of... gifted."

"Ah, whaddya mean? He looks like every other pissant jerk who's ever had his whole life handed to him on a goddamned plate. And whaddya mean, "lab-coat"? He's wearin' a goddamned Pink Floyd t-shirt!" the social worker ranted, cracking his knuckles and getting ready to stand up and walk over there.

"Lab-coat, it's what Greenewell soldiers call the scientists, and since you are talking about him, I'm gonna have to give you some advice on this one: run like fuck, and forget that he ever hit on your girl. And pray that he doesn't turn you into a toad or some shit like that." Aaron's reputation as a mage was well known by the soldiers of Terra. And through the various channels of the rumor mill, hero imaging, and the fact that nothing seemed to be able to kill him, his image as a simple magic user had swelled far out of proportions. The rumor mill and the overactive imaginations of the bored soldiers of Lazarus had painted him as some kind of Merlin-esque wizard or a mighty warlock. After all, he did have a group of followers that were learning the ways of the arcane, and they had nothing to say about their teacher except what wonders he had shown them. 

And Lazarus' most popular radio show did say he was a necromancer.

"Fuck that," Sanders replied. Standing woozily from his chair, he slapped himself on the cheek, hoping that the pain might clear his mind a little bit. Stumbling over to the bar, he took one final moment to gather himself.

"... and that's how I came up with that crazy idea," Aaron finished, chuckling at the end his odd little story.

Rich roared in laughter, slapping his heavy hand on the bar. "Damn! Who could have thought a mare could do that with a ladder!"

The engineer's laughter became too infectious to quarantine, and though it was a fairly private and embarrassing story, it spread into Aaron, who could hardly contain himself. Slapping the bar, his body wracked with gleeful laughter and reminiscence, he didn't notice the drunken man approaching from behind.

Alex simply stood there, at Aaron's back, wondering what the best way to go through this would be. Settling on a straightforward approach, he jabbed a finger into his rival's shoulder.

Aaron swiveled around in his stool, a smile still swept across his face. "Hey, what's up! Can I help you?"

"Yeah! I mean, no! I mean... who do you think you are!" Alex said, poking his finger into Aaron's chest.

Aaron shrugged. "Well, thinking and knowing are two different things. I know that I am Dr Aaron Lewis Patterson, honorary First Lieutenant in the United States and Republic of Terra's Armed Forces. I am a diplomat, Ambassador to the Realm of Equestria, liaison and courtier in the courts of Princess Celestia and Princess Mi Amore Cadenza. I am a student of Twilight Sparkle, founder and teacher of the order of the druids, forger of the Singing Crystal. I am a friend of many, and an enemy of few. And most importantly, I am a Conduit of Mother Earth, at your service."

And as an afterthought, Aaron poked a thumb over in the engineer's direction. "And this is Rich. I'm led to believe that he's a fairly decent guy." Rich tipped his nonexistent hat to the drunken social worker.

Alex stared blankly at the mage, his dumb expression telling Aaron that he neither understood nor cared about any of his long list of titles and achievements. "Yeah, well you know what you are, you're a damn pissant, woman-stealing, asshole!" He grinned, hearing the emboldening cheers of his comrades from back at their table.

"Woman-stealing?" the mage asked in confusion. He squinted at the drunkard, trying to remember where he recognized him from. "Wait, you're that guy who was hassling my girlfriend at the TSS." Aaron took a whiff of the man's breath, and he scrunched up his nose in disgust. "Maybe you should just go sit down for a few minutes, before you make a damn fool of yourself."

Alex leaned into his face. "I'll sit down when you learn to stay away from my girl."

Aaron smirked. "Your girl, huh? I didn't see your name on her. Believe me, I checked very thoroughly," he said, waggling his fingers in a suggestive way. The men around the bar had long since focused on the growing squabble, and they laughed at Aaron's comment. "Anita's a free woman, and she can choose whoever she wants to be with. And if a woman like her chooses to be with a man like me, then you'd better get used to it."

Alex stumbled back a step, his face red with anger. Balling up a fist, he took a wild swing towards the mage's firmly set face. And he almost connected in a hit that surely would have taken out a tooth, but he found his fist firmly held within a calloused hand only inches from Aaron's face.

"Now fellas," said Rich, "Let's not do anything we're gonna regret. Let's all just simmer down, and try to keep cool." Several chairs scooted out from various tables, and Rich glanced over at all the men getting ready to come to their comrade's aid. Rich let go of Alex's fist, and the social worker stumbled back a step, rubbing his hand and swearing under his breath. 

"Wooh, look at the big badass here, thinks he's fucking Mahatma Gandhi trying to bring peace! Why don't you get your greasy ass back under someone's car and replace some spark plugs!" 

Rich's eyes narrowed, and he slowly turned in his chair. He was stopped by Aaron's hand, and he glanced over to his friend. Aaron slowly shook his head. "He's not worth it."

And with his hand on Rich's shoulder, Aaron could send a message another way. 

And besides, he has four pretty big friends back there, he said, the message ringing clear in Rich's mind. 

"Did you just....?" Rich asked curiously. The mage nodded slowly, and Rich sat back down in his chair, mystified by the show of telepathy.

But Alex was still on top of the world, and his inhibitions were so far lowered by the whiskey coursing through his system that he had to continue his little show. "You know what? You can keep her! Everyone in the office knows she's a damn slut anyways."

Aaron's fingers clenched down on the edge of the bar, and Rich could instantly see anger burn in his eyes. A person could insult a man to his heart's content, but insult his woman, and that's asking for a broken jaw. 

"You know, I heard she gives it away for free, suckin' and screwin' her way through boyfriend after boyfriend til the cash dries up or until it's not fun anymore." The social worker's friends really expected this to explode at any moment, and they stood at their buddy's back. But Rich was more concerned for their health and safety. As Aaron's anger grew, curls of smoke began to rise from the indentations that his now glowing fingers dug into the bar.

Aaron reached into his pocket, and for a moment Rich believed he was going to whip out a magic wand and turn them all into toads or some other kind of undesirable swamp creature. But a grin grew on Aaron's face as he brought out a small mp3 player, magically linking with it, and drawing out a few chunks of information. 

Spinning around in his stool, Aaron aimed a glowing finger at the crowd. And as they all recoiled in fear, he fired his little bolt of magic, straight at the jukebox. The machine hummed to life, and began to spit out a certain song from the '60s. The crowd stared at the jukebox in confusion, completely distracted from the situation.

"Is that.... Fortunate Son?" Alex asked, turning back to face Aaron.

And met the mage's fist as it slammed into his nose.

The social worker flew back into the arms of his buddies, a stream of fresh blood coming from his nose. Alex shook himself, touching a hand to his pouring face. Seeing the fresh blood on his fingers, he snarled at the mage who stood ready with fists ready. Alex shoved himself up and threw off his buddy's hands, woozily raising his dukes and taking a swing. 

Aaron slipped back a step, pressing his back to the bar, and the social worker's swing fell short of his face. The mage snapped out a shot, scoring another hit on the social worker's chin, and when Alex fell back, Aaron whipped out a foot and drove it straight into his stomach. Clutching his gut, his chin and face coated in a fresh stream of blood, Alex fell back between two of his comrades. 

The social worker slapped a hand over his profusely bleeding nose, and he screamed to his buddies, "What the fuck are you standing around for!? Kick his ass!"

The soldier and the farmer glanced at one another, and they shrugged, each of them curling up a fist and charging into the breach. Aaron thought about breaking his personal code and using a quick bolt of magic to settle this all in a second; perhaps a broad spectrum paralyzer spell, or maybe an enchantment to make the floors either as sticky as spider's web, or slicker than ice. But his troubles were cut in half when Rich barreled into the fight, crashing into the soldier and wrapping his arms around the man's chest, lifting him from the floor and smashing him into the nearest table.

And as if on some mysterious cue, the rest of the bar erupted into the brawl. Anyone who got even the slightest push felt the need to give his own push back tenfold, and it spread like wildfire through the establishment that had been quiet and peaceful less than a minute past. Push came to shove, and shove came to punch. And punch came to indiscriminate kicking and flailing.

And once he had him pinned to the floor, Rich pelted the soldier with a series of quick punches, but took a heavy blow to his cheek in response. Aaron launched himself into the brawl once again, throwing a punch into his gut and staggering him back wards. Tougher than old oak roots, the farmer swung his considerable fist into the mage's ribs, brushing across them, and using the momentum to bring his elbow into Aaron's chin. 

Snarling at the farmer, Aaron grabbed the front of his shirt and headbutted his opponent on the forehead. The man crumpled in his arms, and Aaron tossed him over the bar, shattering dozens of bottles of rather expensive alcohol on display. Taking a moment, Aaron winced as he rubbed his throbbing forehead. "Shit, why did I think that was a good idea?"

His reprieve was cut short by a chair sailing past his head, and he ducked to avoid catching too many splinters in his skull. Another brawler leaped into the mage's ring from behind, and he wrapped his arms around Aaron in a tight bear-hug. Aaron twisted and writhed, wriggling one of his arms free and elbowing his attacker in the ribs. The man grunted in pain, and after a shower of blows, his tight grip released, and Aaron spun around, taking him out with a solid hit on the chin. 

"Hey Rich! How you holding up!" Aaron shouted through the melee. 

The engineer ducked a right hook from his opponent, responding with a kick to his enemy's exposed knee that took him to the floor. "Doing good! Shit, on your left!" the engineer shouted back.

Aaron took his message to heart, spinning on his left foot and taking only the edge of a heavy punch as it came for his shoulder. Using the momentum from his pirouette, he smacked a light punch in the brawler's gut. The man doubled over slightly, and Aaron brought his fist up into the man's chin and sent him flying back to crash into another table.

Rich was having good luck in his brawl, but the soldier from earlier was made from tougher stuff than all the other men that lay moaning on the floor around him. He grabbed Rich from the side, weaving his leg into the engineer's stance and using his considerable force to trip up the engineer and slam him into the floor. The soldier took a step closer to his downed victim, raising up a foot as if to stomp on him like he was a small nuisance. And with his bare second of opportunity, Rich lanced out with a foot and between the soldier's legs, battering and bruising the soldier's family jewels. The man seized up and slowly fell over, both hands firmly clamped over his abused groin.

"Ha!" Rich laughed, leaping to his feet and brushing off his flannel shirt. "Whoever thinks I fight fair is a chump."

Rich waded through the writhing mass of brawlers, throwing a punch or jabbing with an elbow if someone got in his way. More than once he ducked a flying bottle or a thrown chair, but eventually he managed to get back beside his ally in Aaron. Standing side by side, the two men gave more blows than they took, and as the only two fighters who actually seemed to not want to beat the other senseless, they held the advantage over any person who stumbled their way.

They were kings of this hill, the top dogs over the pack of snarling, biting, kicking mutts. Any they were well on their way to saying that they kicked the ass of almost everyone in that establishment, until a thunderous roar from behind the bar froze every man and woman in mid-swing. 

The barkeeper had been hiding behind his precious bar since Aaron had thrown the first punch against Alex, and throughout the entirety of the melee, he had been looking for his bouncer.

And "Bouncer" just happened to be the name of his trusty Remington 870 pump action shotgun. 

The hefty bartender worked the pump on his gun, ejecting his spent shell and loading a fresh one into the chamber at the same time. The telltale click-click of the shotgun's pump silenced any protests that had arisen after his initial shot to calm the riot. The mage and the engineer raised their hands in defeat, slowly turning around to see the barrel of a gun staring them down.

"You two get the hell out of my bar!" he shouted to the pair. "And as for the rest of ye', get to cleanin' this place up! Joe, Frank, get these guys outta here!" Two of the bar's regulars, men who bore a few extra bruises and more than one small cut from the brawl, grabbed Aaron and Rich by the collars of their shirts and the seat of their pants, tossing them out the door.

The two men bounced into the street, where they lay for a few moments to collect themselves. 

Aaron rubbed a hand across his sore jaw. "Damn, that's the first time I've ever been actually thrown out of someplace."

Rich worked his tongue over a loosened tooth, considering how well that had actually gone for them. "Eh, that was my..." he took a moment to count it out on his fingers, mentally recalling each time he had been forcefully thrown out of an establishment. "Third, maybe my fourth time? Hell, I can't remember most of them anyways."

They sat there on the sidewalk of the dusty street for a minute, gathering their thoughts and letting the soreness of the fight wear off. "Well, what do you want to do now?" said Aaron. 

Rich shrugged. "I dunno. I suppose now would be a bad time to say, 'We should have gone to the pony bar!' "

"Hey, I saw you in there, you were having just as much fun as I was!"

A shadow fell over both of the men, and a firm, authoritative voice interrupted them. "Gentlemen, arguing only makes your case worse."

Aaron and Rich peeked over their shoulders, spying several black gun barrels hanging only inches from their backs. Half a dozen Military Police stood in a line behind them, responding to a few passerbys calls about a disturbance at Abraham's. And spying two beaten and bruised men on the sidewalk, they decided to just make a quick arrest and be out of the summer  heat. 

The captain of that particular patrol swung a pair of handcuffs lazily from his finger, nodding to the men. 


********************************************


President McGoff walked shamefully down the hallway of Lazarus' impromptu prison, a block of old apartments and storage rooms in the Undercity that had been re-purposed to detain whatever criminals that the MPs who patrolled the city managed to catch. It was an empty place, being that the only criminals these days were petty thieves and maybe the occasional assault case. The long hallway was marked by empty cells and flickering lights from the buzzing fluorescent lights in the ceiling. 

The only reason he knew where to go was the single, solitary prison guard that stood outside the door of the prison's only occupied room. The prison guard snapped out of his nap when the President approached, and snapped a quick salute. McGoff returned it, and nodded to the guard. And without the need for instructions, the guard unlocked the door and let the Commander in Chief pass.

"... and at that point, we shout, 'Man down!' The guards come running, we coldcock 'em and make our escape!" one of the beaten, bruised, but surprisingly cheerful men said.

McGoff rolled his eyes, slapping a hand to his face in shame. "Oh good god. You know, when a messenger came to my office today telling me that a biologist and an engineer had been thrown into the brig for causing a huge mess upstairs, I felt a chill run down my spine. Now I know why."

Aaron and Rich donned huge smiles as the President entered the room. "Tyler! You finally came to bail us out! I knew you'd pull through! Tell me, what's it like on the outside? It's been so long, I've forgotten the gentle touch of the breeze, the taste of fresh air, the feel of a woman's soft breast! Do ponies still rule the world? Are there flying cars yet? Did Nickelback finally make a half-decent album?"

"Yeah, and did they ever perfect human cloning? 'Cause I'd like to order a few Faith Hills, if you know what I mean," Rich said with a grin.

The President of the Republic growled something under his breath, then bared a rather frightening grin. "No, the ponies all left for Happy Valley and took all the flying cars to get there, and Nickelback went with them! But it turns out that shitty Canadian rock was keeping the Disney pop bands from reproducing in plague proportions! And yes Rich, they did perfect human cloning. But instead of making supermodels for everyone or repopulating our critically endangered species, they cloned about six thousand Honey Boo Boos, who now roam the Earth gorging themselves on human brains!"

"Wow," said Aaron. "You know, if that's the case, I think I'll stay here."

"Yeah, prison doesn't sound so bad compared to an insatiable horde of toddler beauty queens," agreed Rich.

McGoff narrowed his eyes at his prisoners. "You've been in the drunk tank for half an hour. The world hasn't changed one goddamned bit."

"Really? It felt like so much longer than that. I mean, we had an escape plan and everything! Rich started on a tunnel but broke our only digging spoon-"

"Digging spork," Rich corrected. "Every good engineer knows you can't properly dig out a tunnel or shank a man with a plastic spork. Crafty prison guards, the tunnel was doomed from the beginning!"

Aaron nodded to that. "And it's been so long since I've seen another human being that Rich's mouth was startin' to look real purdy," he said in his most hick convict voice. "And then we each had our psychotic breakdowns, smashed some furniture, got involved in a gang, found Jesus, then we formulated another escape plan, and then you walked in."

McGoff leaned back against the wall, once again covering his face in shame. "You two are like ten-year-olds. You know, it's not a pleasant afternoon when I hear that my Chief Engineer and one of my ambassadors get involved in a drunken brawl that literally knocks a building off its foundation!"

"We really did that?" Rich asked. "Awesome!" He held up a hand for Aaron, who gladly slapped him a high-five.

"You know what they have you booked for, right?" the President asked. 

"Cutting the heads off parking meters?" Aaron replied, covering up his snickering.

McGoff glared at the chortling ambassador. "Wrong, smartass. Destruction of property, vandalism, assault, disturbing the peace, inciting a riot! All on multiple counts!"

"Hey, they started it, I just threw the first punch," Aaron said in his own defense.

"Whatever!" McGoff shouted, throwing his hands out in frustration. "The point I'm trying to make here is that you two have behaved in a manner unbefitting of your responsibilities! You can't just go around punching out every guy who calls you something nasty! We have an image to protect, one of integrity and responsibility, and you bet your ass that that image is going to get shit smeared on it when this hits the front page!"

McGoff took a deep breath and let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Who am I kidding? I probably would have joined in." The President put his back to the wall, sliding down to the floor.

Aaron and Rich glanced at each other, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. Turning back to their leader, Aaron gently said, "You seem stressed, kemo sabe. Something up?"

McGoff scoffed. "You think? I'm the pretty much unwilling leader of a newborn nation, a bunch of talking animals are demanding equal rights, a bunch of politicians are demanding that things stay the same, the judiciary went behind my back with your pony's case, and Jean's been really secretive lately, so I know he's up to something. Mr Mackenzie visited me today, told me that because of the diamond dog strike he can't fill any of the orders that our economic allies placed months ago, so now our steel buyers are getting impatient and angry. The Senate is on my ass about relieving our national debt to Equestria while simultaneously scraping together the funds to get Mayflower moving. The economy is down 6% in the last few days alone because of the strikes and boycotts, and now the two men who could help me absolve this crisis are sitting in a prison cell. So yes Aaron, I am a little stressed right now."

"Pfft, what makes you think we're gonna be any help?" Rich asked the President.

McGoff looked up at the engineer. "At this point, I have no goddamned clue why I thought you two would be able to help me on this one. Rich, I thought you might be able to go over to the Slagworks and talk down the diamond dogs. They seem to trust you more than anyone else, since you blew their last leader into dog meat. And Aaron, you have a way with the ponies. I mean, look at you, you're like the Horse Whisperer over there in Canterlot!"

Aaron winced. "Please don't call me that."

The President of the Republic cocked an eyebrow. "Why not? I can call you whatever I like."

"Because the last man who called me the Horse Whisperer was General Winters. You know, the man who tried to murder me? The man that you shot twice in the back as he was trying to murder me? The man that you replaced? Ringin' any bells? And besides, my relationships with the pony race are based on trust, caring, and respect. I can't just wave my hand and suddenly have all the ponies in Lazarus drop their beliefs and sing a happy tune. Granted, I know a mare that can do that, but she's driven a few physicists and psychiatrists to insanity. The point is, if you want to get through to the ponies, you have to offer them the same things that I do; trust, care, and respect."

"You mean that in order to keep the peace, make sure this civil movement doesn't erupt into some kind of violent uprising, I have to become their friend?" McGoff said in disbelief.

Aaron chuckled under his breath. "Yup. Ponies react to friendly gestures far more than they do to aggressive ones. It's like friendship potlatch with them, they get something nice, and then they have to prove that they can be nicer in return. And besides, did violence work on the African American community during the Civil Rights Movement? Nope, if anything it just made them stronger people who held closer to their convictions."

McGoff groaned, bumping the back of his head against the wall in frustration. "So there's no winning this."

"There is a way," Aaron corrected. "You just have to play your cards right."

"How?"

The mage flashed a grin. "Talk to Smitts. He was an actual senator for a country hundreds of times the size of your own. If anyone has the Capitol Hill greasiness required to survive this with good standing, it's your Vice President. And besides, I know you're trying to go for the 'fair ruler' look, but it might be time to tighten your grip on the reigns. This country is on the verge of chaos, and they need a firm leader to guide them through it. But don't go overboard on it, this is the kind of situation that requires a light touch."

The President of the Republic sat quietly at the other end of the cell. "Wow. That... makes sense. More sense than the advice my advisors have been giving me."

"I had a feeling it would. Since you government hombres have basically forgotten to give me orders, I've taken it upon myself to offer my services as a spiritual guide. But, that's only a solution for your professional problems, there's one more problem my friend says she can help you with, a problem that is a deeper root cause of your stress. But I want full presidential pardons for both me and Rich in exchange for helping you with it."

"I don't have any more problems," McGoff said defensively. 

"Oh yes you do. All of Lazarus knows about this one, and subconsciously, you know about it too," Aaron retorted. He leaned back, closing his eyes and relaxing his body and mind. "And I'm being told that a good and inventive solution for your problem is a simple ploy, and some flowers."


******************************************


Lyra paced in front of the large chalkboard that she had acquired from one of the other rooms of the ambassador's house, levitating a piece of chalk in her yellow, chiming aura and scribbling down what she knew about each Justice.

"Brockmann, left, liberal. Sikes, right, conservative," she murmured to herself, marking down those notes beneath a rough depiction of each Justice. She thought for a moment, then underlined 'conservative' several times in her notes about Justice Sikes. Early in her legal coaching, she had learned that her salvation may lay in the natural course of the political machine and the natural division between the factions that inherently lay in the secret order of the Terran government.

Her immersion into human politics had become almost complete, and it was expected that during her education on the subject that she learn about bipartisan politics. To think that a race could build a system of government where only two basic platforms of ideology and opinion existed, or one where only the two most prevalent belief systems were listened to with any regard was simply baffling to the mare.

Equestria's central legislature had thrived for centuries under the concept of widely differing individual opinions, and the thought that each pony representing a different district of the kingdom had different ideas and concerns to bring to the table was the cornerstone of the legislative process. Though there were hundreds of political alliances and applications of quid pro quo, there were no political parties in Equestria. But not to the humans, no no.  As the statues in the Park had told her upon her first walk through the sacred groves, one of humanity's deepest beliefs was duality, that there were two sides to every coin, and that belief was everywhere in their society. 

God and the Devil, good and evil, matter and energy, left and right, hamburgers and hot dogs, and most importantly in their government, liberal and conservative. Two terms that had almost no meaning in the halls and courts of Equestria, yet here in the Republic, one's declaration of holding loyalty to liberalism or conservatism could instantly identify someone as an ally, indict one as a foe, ease one's fears, or build a wall made from ideological differences and mortared with deep convictions.

A quick flip through the pages of a history book had told her that the differences between the liberal parties and the conservative parties had quite commonly led to congressional wars of words, and on more than one occasion, actual wars. Though moderation was in their dictionary, to the ancient statesmen of humankind, it was not a part of their vocabulary. They were either for something, or against it. Though why they were differed.

Sometimes it was small things, like a slight budget increase in some sub-committee or another, and other times it was something that defined the struggles of a generation, like her own plight with interspecies family rights and civil rights for her people. 

And it was this incredible willingness to divide so vehemently on a subject that Lyra would use to dominate the court room. According to observations in the court room, character profiles derived from carefully scanning each and every newspaper that the city had released, and having a few of her pony recruits talk to their new human friends about the Justices, she could now say with confidence who believed in what platform.

"Justice Marcos, liberal, center left," she murmured, marking down the Justice's position on a quick chart of approximately where each Justice fell in their convictions. So far, each of the Justices she had examined leaned either towards the far left or the far right, with only a few straying closer to the center. "Justice Dailey, conservative, center right."

The goal of this little exercise was to find out which Justices would be more sympathetic to her cause and more open to her arguments, and aim her petitions towards garnering their favor. So far, the liberals were her target demographic, and as luck would have it, the Justices seemed to be a fairly even split between liberals and conservatives. At least, that's what the chart was telling her.

"Any progress on formulating your argument for tomorrow?" a ghostly whisper said to her. Lyra nodded absently, rubbing her chin with a hoof, focused on placing the last Justice on her list.

"I've hit a little hiccup," Lyra said to her technically undead legal counselor. "Using character profiles, what I've learned in court, and just some hearsay, I've managed to pin who I have an actual chance of getting on my side, and who I can't. It's an even split, four liberal, four conservatives."

"How is that even? You're forgetting one person."

"I know," she replied. "Chief Justice Halliburton is a mystery. The woman hasn't shown a single sign of swinging either way, and the only sign I've seen that she's even alive up there on the stand is the fact that she starts each hearing. I can't even tell if the woman breathes or not. It's like she's made from stone. Might as well be her carved from marble out front, carrying a sword in one hand and scales in the other."

"A true representative of justice, blind until all the facts are known. I'd mark her as a moderate," Mr Darrow suggested. "Now, you need to work on formulating your argument to appeal to the liberal Justices. What's your game plan for tomorrow?"

Lyra nodded, levitating her notes for tomorrow's hearing and placing on a little set of reading glasses. "M'kay. First, we'll start with a rebuttal of the facts that Bennett gave at the last hearing, followed by a little rhetoric to garner some attention. Then, we bring in the secret weapon, shock and awe, stunned faces all around, yadda-yadda. Little more sophistry and rhetoric, then we close on a high note. After that, we calmly sit there while David Bennett throws a curveball and beans the batter. Sound good?"

"Sounds almost like you don't even need me," Mr Darrow commented. "But are you sure Mr Whistler will make an argument that favors your case? From your description of the man, he seems to be devoutly Terran, and he might pitch a few answers to the Justice's questions that won't exactly sway them to our cause."

Lyra took off her reading glasses, chuckling under her breath. "Ah, you just haven't met Johnny yet, he's a really nice guy, and I swear on my tail that he is doing this for the greater good."

"The greater good, huh? Do I need to remind you of the concept of relativity? The idea that what you believe to be the greater good may only be the greater good in your mind? One Mr Einstein took the liberty of regaling every soul he came across with his theories on the relative nature of the universe, spending years arguing with several gods on their theories."

The mare raised her hoof, stopping his concerned rant. "Whistler is on our side, I assure you. The only problem is getting the conservative Justices to take him seriously."

From the front of the house, the sound of a heavy door opening and closing alerted the ghost to danger, and he dove into  the floor for his own safety. Lyra shrugged, taking a quick moment to stretch out before trotting out to the front of the house, just to make sure it was her roommate, and they weren't being robbed or something.

And for once, her odd paranoia seemed validated when a woman stood in the den instead of her familiar man. The strange woman had platinum blonde hair, and she wore a pair of tight-fitting pants, something that Mr Patterson called "jeans" that seemed to be hugging her rather ample bottom and a simple blouse. The woman inspected a curious object on the mantle, leaning towards it and  lightly tapping at the crystal casing with a finger.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Lyra said rather blandly. 

The woman yelped, jumping back a step and clutching her heart with a hand, whipping around to see the pony standing at the door.

"What?!" she stammered.

"I said I wouldn't do that," the mare reiterated. "That's a gorgon eye. If you take it out of the case, you could become stoned in a way that isn't so nice."

"Who are you?" the woman asked.

The mare shook her head slightly, chuckling under her breath. "I'm Lyra, nice to meet you."

"Oh crap," the woman lamented. "I must have read the address wrong. I'm so sorry for walking into your...." She paused for a moment, taking in the sights of Aaron's wealth and worldly possessions. Some deep part of her could not believe that a pony could live in one of the more upscale houses in Lazarus, that like all the other creatures she would live in the projects on the outskirts of town. "Rather fine house," she finished.

"Don't lose any sleep over it, it's not my house," the mare replied with a wink. "I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that you want Aaron?"

Anita bit her lip and nodded. "Yeah. Does he live here? I mean, he gave me his address, and this looks like someplace that he might live, and he didn't pick me up after work today so.... yeah. Are you...?"

"A mare that was in desperate need of temporary housing, also his roommate," Lyra responded. "So, the jerk stood you up? Typical man, heck, typical male of every species, am I right or am I right? That's why I romp on the other side of the hayloft." In her attempt to engage in friendly banter, she had accidentally let loose a secret that she tried to keep low until she knew someone comfortably. It wasn't like she was ashamed of it, one just tended to make more lasting friends if they kept their rampant lesbianism to themselves.

An awkward silence fell over the room, and the ticking clock and the tap of Lyra's hoof on the floor rang out like a gong. "So, you just get comfortable, he'll be around soon. Just remember not to touch anything, and that's for your safety."

But before Lyra could scamper back to the safety of the study and continue working on tomorrow's argument, the front door swung open. 

"Honey, I'm home!" Aaron boisterously called out, stumbling towards the den.

The mare cocked an eyebrow at all his bruises and his swollen lip. "What in the flaming pit of Tartarus happened to you? You look like you tried to take a nap on the train tracks."

"Yeah, well you aren't exactly winning any 'Miss Equestria' awards either," the man replied venomously.

Lyra scowled at the chipper man. "Bite me, ya' mangy chimp."

"Am I interrupting something?" Anita asked from behind Lyra. "Babe, what happened to you!" The woman rushed past the mare, and she cupped her boyfriend's face in her palm. "Did you get mugged, do I need to call the police?"

"Naw, this is nothin'. You shoulda seen the other guy," Aaron replied in his most masculine type of voice, sounding as though he couldn't care less about his various throbbing bruises. "Seriously though, I think I might have hospitalized him."

"You got in a fight?! Aaron, what the hell is wrong with you! You could have seriously hurt someone, you could have been arrested!"

The mage human rubbed his neck sheepishly. "About that.... I kind of was arrested. B-but I got a full pardon!"

Anita was not impressed, nor was she concerned. She folded her arms under her bosom and glared hatefully at the man. "You stood me up for our date because you got in a fight." She leaned closer, sniffing his breath. "A drunken fight. You decided to get drunk and cause a scene, then you got thrown in prison until the president very nicely decided to turn you loose on the world again. I was going to introduce you to my friends tonight! And there I went, looking for you because you didn't come and pick me up from work like you said you would!"

"I said I was defending your honor!" Aaron desperately wailed.

"Oh, so I need to be defended now? I need a man in my life to stand up for me?" she asked scathingly.

"That's not what I meant-" he said, trying to defend himself as she pushed the offensive.

"Then what did you mean, hmm?"

A look of consternation and confusion bedecked Aaron's face, and to any who had worked with computers for long enough, he might have been the personification of a hard-drive crashing after entering an infinite paradox loop. "I give up," he said in defeat.

"That's right you do! I'm not even going to bother having you meet my friends tonight, since you look like Sylvester Stallone in one of those Rocky movies. So, you're going to be a gentleman by making dinner for me and...." She glanced over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow at the mare who had smugly sat through the entire emasculation of Mr Patterson.

"Lyra," she said again.

"By making dinner for Lyra and I." Having sufficiently demeaned and punished her boyfriend, she relaxed her approach a bit. "And maybe we can relax on the couch afterwards," she said.

And instantly, the prospect of his punishment and the repercussions of his fight melted away, and Aaron visibly brightened. Anita turned back to the den to await her supper, and before Aaron could rush off to the kitchen to desperately search his cupboards for anything easy to make, Lyra stopped him.

"You know, there's a little expression we have in Equestria."

"What's that?"

Lyra swung her tail quickly, snapping it through the air with a loud whip crack. 
> Making Friends
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"We shall continue to hear argument this morning in case no. 1 of the Terran judiciary, Lyra Heartstrings v. Republic of Terra. Mrs Heartstrings, you may proceed."

As with the many mornings that had preceded this morning, and in a manner that was quickly becoming routine, Lyra arose from her seat at the petitioner's bench and strode boldly up front. And almost as an afterthought, Lyra took a deep breath and readied the muscles in her lower back, rearing up on her hindlegs and once again resuming her ploy of bipedalism.

"Thank you, Madam Chief Justice. And good morning to the rest of the judiciary, and the fine citizens of this country who have come to witness today's proceedings."

Though the previous convention of the court had drawn in a few curious people and droves of supporters for Lyra's side of the argument, today the gallery was packed with a different crowd. The entire front row consisted of flashing bulbs, press passes, and ponies eager to get the big scoop on this supposed "case of the century". Lyra could barely contain her grin; word had reached Equestria, and newspapers from every major city in the kingdom has sent their top reporters out to get the scoop in the Republic.

A reporter from Equestria Daily elbowed a columnist from the Manehattaner, who jostled for room with a rather uptight and serious writer from the Fillydelphia Inquirer. And those three only represented the greatest papers from Equestria. Half a dozen others from lesser papers and smaller cities were just as eager to pitch their own thoughts on the case at hand, or hoof.

Lyra turned back to face the Justices up there on their bench. "I would like to begin my argument this morning with a question. I ask this to you, the Justices of the Republic of Terra, the living embodiements of law in this land, sworn protectors of the rights of the people: how much will it cost to mend the rift between us?"

The Justices cast a mildly offended look to the mare, each of them raising an eyebrow in confusion. "I beg your pardon?" Justice Marcos inquired.

"Name your price. Bits, dollars, gold, jewels, pieces of shell, I'll see what I can do to pay it," Lyra said, looking them each in the eye and expecting an answer.

Chief Justice Halliburton leaned forward in her seat, unfolding her fingers and setting them very grimly on the table. "This court is not subject to the whims of the highest bidder, Mrs Heartstrings. If you are implying that you wish to bribe us, I would suggest taking your case before the Senate. They would be far more open to such an offer."

Lyra grinned, and behind her, the humans in the gallery let out a few chuckles. 

"So, she does have a sense of humor after all. Keep her going, just like we practiced," a ghostly whisper said right in her ear.

"I was only asking because it seems like the Republic is all too happy to get paid for virtually no reason at all," the mare said with a dismissive wave of her hoof.

Justice Sikes puffed herself up like a hen, pursing her lips. "And how would that be, petitioner?"

Lyra forced herself to keep a cool and calm face. Even now, after days on the courtroom floor, after months of ponies and other creatures living and working in her city, the conservative Justice would not even speak her name, or hardly even recognize her as a thinking person.

"I'm talking about the reparations that Equestria pays to the Republic. And I begin my argument this morning on the topic of the imminent failure of this country if we," she said with emphasis, "continue to accept this campaign of appeasement from the kingdom of Equestria." Of course, she had said 'we'. She was a citizen of this country, not just some visitor, and if she wanted to challenge this country and change it, then she would have to enforce the fact that she was just as Terran as any human. And as a Terran, she had just as many stakes in this newborn country as the next pony, or the next gryphon, or the next human.

"And that's just what it is, appeasement. The reparations that the kingdom of Equestria pays to this country, in the form of cash grants, debt reconciliation, the suspension of tariffs and a favored import status are all an attempt by the crown of Equestria to ease the pain that ponykind inflicted upon humanity so long ago. And I say that these reparations, though stimulating to the economic status of the Republic and a fiscal crutch to boot, are degrading to the very social fabric of this country."

Now that she had extrapolated her point, the insult factor of her original statement wore away, and the Justices seemed more intrigued.

"Furthermore, these attempts at appeasement through reparations are just a further example of the absolute futility of reparations!" Lyra's horn glowed a soft gold, and a paper whisked from the top of her desk to hover in front of her face. "I quote the Civil Rights Movement of the 20th century. During those times, reparations were paid by the descendants of slave-owning families to the descendants of the slaves owned by their ancestors." The mare took a moment to take a breath, her eyes flicking over to Justice Brockmann, a man whose own family had endured those times. And, she noticed, Justice Nakamura seemed just as interested. 

As a man of Japanese descent, Justice Nakamura's ancestors had not fared as easily as some of the other Justice's families. Even before the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960's, persecution of his people during World War II had ultimately left his honest, hard working grandparents locked away in an internment camp by people whose paranoia of Japanese attacks overcame their basic sensibility. Their businesses rotted away, their homes were taken and sold without any permission, and their assets frozen indefinitely. But the main difference between the ancestors of Justice Brockmann and Justice Nakamura was that Justice Nakamura's family had never received a penny in restitution or reparation. Not even an apology for the way the American government destroyed their livelihoods and their lives. 

Lyra cleared her throat, reading from the list. "The payment of reparations and grievances to African Americans for slavery, the Dawes Plan to rebuild Europe after the first World War, the payment of native peoples of this continent for the way their cultures and languages were snuffed out, forty acres and a mule!" Lyra slapped the paper down on her desk, whipping around to face the Justices. "What do these all have in common? Besides the fact that they were attempts to simply pay off the damages done to people. The fact that they all failed miserably! They are all poster children for the very fact that reparations and restitution do not, no, cannot work!"

"And how is that, Mrs Heartstrings?" asked Justice Marcos, taking down notes on a pad of paper.

Lyra paced a few steps in front of her desk, thinking for a moment about how she might say her next statement. "Madam Chief Justice, I request permission to ask a few more "less than professional" questions to your associates."

Chief Justice Halliburton nodded. "Granted, Mrs Heartstrings."

The mare nodded, leaning back against the edge of her desk and folding her forelegs. "Let me make up a little scenario. Let's just say that you, any one of you Justices, are walking down the street one day. It's a fine morning, the birds are chirping, the grass is green, and for once you woke up on the right side of the bed that morning."

The gallery chuckled at her little scenario, and Lyra herself let a little laugh come out. "And let's say that it's such a fine morning that you decided to wear your lucky jacket. It's your favorite, a jacket that is so comfortable that it feels like you're wearing a cloud, and sentimental because a pretty girl or a handsome man complimented you on it."

Justice Lanning rolled her eyes, groaning out loud. "Where is this going?"

"Just stay with me, I'm gettin' to the good part!" Lyra assured her. "Anyways, you're walkin' down Main Street in your lucky jacket, a jacket that hold sentimental value to you, when suddenly disaster strikes! Someone coming from the other direction, walking down the street while drinking from a huge cup of soda crosses your path. He bumps into you, and spills his soda all over your favorite, lucky jacket! And to top it all off, you trip over the other guy's shoes, fall to the sidewalk, and tear a huge hole in your jacket! It's ruined, destroyed beyond any hope of repair, you can't even use the scraps to repair another jacket in your closet! And the guy, the one who knocked you over, he throws a couple bits or dollars at your feet and walks away. Now let me ask you, how would you feel?"

The row of Justices remained silent, and Lyra shifted uneasily on her hooves. She'd thrown out her bait, and got not a single nibble in response. She swallowed hard, and wondered whether this exercise was going to make her look like a fool on the courtroom floor.

"I would feel offended."

Lyra looked up suddenly, seeking out which Justice had responded to her. And to her surprise, Justice Rutherford leaned forward in his chair, and said again, "I would be more offended than anything else."

The mare could hardly hold back her smile of triumph, her observations had pinned Justice Rutherford as a conservative, and yet he was actively partaking in her questioning! 

"Exactly," said Lyra. "But, shouldn't you feel gratified or appeased?"

"Why would I?" Justice Rutherford asked.

The mare shrugged. "I thought that since he paid you reparations for the damage to your jacket, that all the wounds would be healed and all the burned bridges rebuilt. But apparently the damage hasn't been repaired at all! You are still offended that this person so roughly handled the situation, and then tried to scam his way out of an apology by appeasing you with a few dollars."

Her point was quickly becoming clear to all those in attendance. The person in her example may have repaid some small portion of the damages, yet it was feelings and emotions that were hurt more than anything else. The exemplary jacket may have been just an unfortunate article of clothing to the man with the soda, but to the person who owned it, it was special, and carried many special memories that simply could not be replaced or repaid by a few measly, moldy bills. That kind of sentiment had no proper value.

"Now, let's try that same scenario again. It's a fine morning, main street, lucky-jacket, soda-guy, yadda yadda. He accidentally pushes you over, but this time, instead of going straight for his wallet, he reaches out with a hand to help you up. Instead of simply blowing you off, giving you a few bucks and going on his merry way, he instead shows you honest regret by offering you a hand up. And yes, he apologizes too. Maybe he brushes the dust off of what's left of your jacket, hoping that things aren't too bad that a few stitches won't fix. He shows honest concern for you, and honest regret. Now, tell me, how would you feel in that situation?"

Justice Rutherford considered her words for a few moments, seeing the scenario in his mind's eye, actually placing himself in the shoes of the man in the jacket. And as the mental man with the soda extended his hand, the Justice managed to surprise himself. 

"I would feel... wounded. Wounded in my pride, maybe a little sore from the fall, maybe a little sad that my favorite jacket got destroyed. But, I wouldn't feel so bad overall. I might feel a tiny bit of appreciation that this person was making an honest attempt to make his mistake right."

Lyra smiled. He had been honest in his response, and he had not stuck to his political platform of conservatism, despite what the public and the other Justices had expected of him. "Precisely. Instead of paying you for your trouble, he treated you like a fellow being and with dignity, and offered you a hand up. The same thing applies to reparations on the grander scale; someone is wronged, and the party that wronged them in turn tries to simply provide them money to keep them quiet. And that leads to bitterness, distance between the person who was wronged and the person who wronged them, and sometimes even a simmering hatred. But, the knife can cut both ways, and the emotions involved in the situation can become reversed."

The mare took a moment to quench her thirst, sipping daintily from her glass before launching right back into her argument. "Yes, even the most sincere form of reparations can turn sour. Even if the party who wronged the person does offer both a sincere apology and a small amount of cash to help alleviate the damage, it can turn into exploitation. The party who was wronged can claim that they are never satisfied, and find out that their life becomes incredibly easy if they continue to press for restitution. And the guilty party, the one who did them wrong and seeks to make up for it, they will keep paying, even if it ruins them. And it did happen that way. In the aftermath of the Civil Rights Movement, even when the African-American communities had earned their long deserved rights, some of them chose to exploit a system of reparations, and drove some of the families that had wronged their ancestors to ruin. I'll admit, I have never met a human being that I believe would be dishonest enough to exploit a person's willingness to try and make up for the sins of their forefathers, but one bad apple spoils the bunch. Any system of reparations is bound to be flawed, because it cannot account for the emotional depth of each person."

Justice Sikes smirked to herself. She believed that she had caught Lyra making a purely cyclical argument, one that she could call her out on. "And what would your solution be, petitioner? According to you, there is no way to make amends for the damage done. So all you've accomplished for the past ten minutes is to disprove your own argument! What's your magical solution?"

The Justice grinned at her own pun, expecting her supporters in the crowd to chortle along at her terrible excuse for attacking Lyra's main form of interaction with the world. And as a magic user, Lyra felt hurt for that comment. Unicorns didn't use magic to solve their worldly problems, just to get through the day with as little trouble as possible. 

But it didn't stop her, the mare had an ace up her proverbial sleeve. "By skipping over the reparations entirely."

The people in the gallery gasped. If they were right in their guess about what she had been implying throughout the whole proceedings, she had just suggested cutting off the Republic's lifeline! Though few truly knew how deep the reparations that the throne of Equestria had paid to the Republic had run, each and every person knew that the basic foundations for their  sovereignty and economic independence stemmed from the banks of Equestria. Cutting that cord could ruin the fledgling nation.

"But," she said loudly to quiet the peanut gallery, "it can be replaced with something that IS effective. The man in my example decided that the more courteous course of action was to extend a hand up to the person that he wronged. Thus, I believe that assistance would be the wiser way to make up for a loss. And I am talking about inter-personal assistance between people, not governments. And I can think of no better way for my kind to give assistance to yours than through good works and service, not by throwing cash at you. Which is why I would like to bring Mr Johnathan Whistler to the stand for testimonial at this time."

The Justices murmured to one another, then filed through the stacks of paper that came every morning. Each of them was surprised to find a pink copy of the subpoena that Lyra had filed to legally bring in her testifier. 

A general hush fell over the courtroom as the front door swung open. At his cue to enter, Johnny walked proudly, yet stoically down the aisle between the gallery seats. Many people murmured to the person next to them, wondering exactly how and why this strange pegasus had managed to acquire a military dress shirt and accompanying hat. Even the ponies of Lazarus felt confused as to why one of their own was in Terran military dress.

Whistler stopped by Lyra's desk, giving the mare a quick greeting and an embrace. Lyra returned his quick hug, and then nodded the soldier over to the bailiff/chaplain. The soldier playing bailiff nodded to his comrade, pulling a beat and ratty bible out from a pocket. Private Whistler placed his hoof on the tome, and the bailiff said to him, "Do you solemnly swear or affirm that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

Private Whistler nodded once. "I do." And with his oath taken, the stallion retired to the petitioner's desk, taking his seat and waiting for the Justices to begin their questioning.

But the courtroom remained silent, and none of the Justices seemed to be able to build up the courage to call out Lyra on her bold move. Since the Surges of 2017, many of these people had  seen some of the most fantastic and magical things that the world had to offer, yet the sight of a pony in a Terran Army uniform seemed to render them completely immobile and inert.

Rolling her eyes, Chief Justice Haliburton started the testimonial on a more official note. "Please state your name for the courtroom records."

Private Whistler promptly stood from his chair, very quickly assuming his at-attention pose as he rattled off his name and rank. "Private First Class Johnathan Whistler, 248-34-4492, Delta Company of the Republic of Terra's Third Army Division."

Chief Justice Haliburton allowed for the stenographer to get all that down before beginning her examination of the testifier. "Do you know why you are here, Private?"

Whistler nodded. "Yes ma'am. I'm here to testify on behalf of Mrs Lyra Heartstrings and on behalf of all the people of this country. I am here to provide testimonial evidence to support the claim that the maltreatment of my people is unconstitutional."

Justice Dailey slipped on a pair of reading glasses, quickly glossing over his copy of Whistler's subpoena. "Mr Whistler, both you and your subpoena state that you serve in this country's armed forces. What is your duty? Remember, you are under oath."

Whistler put on a proud smile as he answered the Justice. "Sir, I serve this fine country by acting as the medic for my platoon. I mend bones, stitch cuts, and just give the whiners a tough time."

"You are a medic?" Justice Sikes said with an incredulously raised eyebrow. No, it couldn't be right, the Justice thought to herself. How could the military willingly place the fate of both life and limb to the clumsy hooves of a farm animal?

"Yes ma'am!" Whistler said excitedly. "I can't really hold a gun, and crossbows and swords aren't really a part of the standard infantryman's arsenal, so I thought I would put my combat medical training to use. You see, in the Equestrian Army, each soldier is meant to be like his own squad, you learn a little bit of everything from the stallion who is your mentor. Everyone is expected to work as one cohesive unit, but also be able to survive just as easily alone. And after I serve my tour, I plan on going career, maybe enrolling in an officer's academy, and maybe even being a drill sergeant in boot, maybe see what I can do about mixing the styles of training. That's just a pipe dream though."

A few of the Justices glanced at one another, wondering who would have to ask those pressing questions that were on everyone's mind. And to Lyra's surprise, it was one of the liberal Justices that pressed the offensive. "Mr Whistler, if I may be so abrupt, why would you do this?" asked Justice Lanning.

"Do what?"

Justice Lanning groaned, rolling her eyes as if her question had been completely direct. "Why join another country's military! Why join the military of another species? Especially one that was your enemy less than a year ago!"

"Well ma'am, I don't really see it that way. You may look at me and Mrs Heartstrings and see ponies, but when I look around this courtroom, all I see is a room full of nice folks. All I see is people, not humans or ponies. And heck, maybe one or two of them would do me the honor and the favor of being my friend. I came to this country because I liked the idea of humans, and I made myself a citizen and joined the armed forces because I fell in love with this country. I love the idea of democracy, your honor, and it hurts me to see that the tenets of democracy aren't being upheld the way that every person in this country claims it should. I for one would love the right to vote, and the right to eat in a cafe without being harassed. I'd be a happy stallion if I knew that the steelworkers union was only the first in this country. I'd be overjoyed to know that our races trust each other enough to let us make a family with whoever we loved enough," said the soldier pony, looking at Lyra out of the corner of his eye. And with Whistler so passionately supporting her personal crusade, Lyra couldn't help but smile in gratitude. 

"I joined the Army because I knew it was what I was meant to do, that it was my calling in life to defend the lives and freedom of my fellow citizens. And... it pains me to see my former compatriots suffering so much in a city that has so much to offer to everyone. I think that if someone is willing to give their life for democracy, then maybe they should get to take part in it. I thought that was the point of democracy, to be fair and righteous. But, if that is the will of the people, then I will die defending that will."

The row of Justices chewed on those words. It was true, the basic tenets of democracy and a free society seemed to have been violated, even if it was in a small way. But what was more important, upholding the ancient ways, or quelling the anger in the thousands of humans in this city that had been wronged in the worst way by ponykind? 

The decimation of their society, their way of life, and their people could never be properly recompensed, and now that they held a comfortable, safe place in the world again, it was the emotions of the individual human being that were hurt more than anything.

"And I think that if you just listen to what Mrs Heartstrings is saying, you'll know that she's right. Our people can get along just fine if we get the chance to know each other better. Let me tell you all a story real quick. Right after I went over to the Immigration Offices and swore myself in as a citizen of this great country, I marched right out of there and over to the Army Recruitment Office. And they were stumped when I said that I wanted to join. But after a while, they just let me fill out the papers and sent me out to boot camp, probably because they thought that I wouldn't have what it would take to make it through. And I tell you what, it was a breeze compared to some parts of Equestrian Royal Army training. Shoot, you guys only dumped me in the woods for a week to survive, in Equestrian boot, you stay out there for almost two months! Anyways, after my sergeant begrudgingly assigned me to Delta Company, I was a little nervous. You see, I was pretty much the only person in my training group. There were four other guys, but they all discharged for medical reasons, so I never really got to know them. And then the day came, I took my gear and marched over to the Delta Company barracks. From the outside, it all sounded so jovial, and everyone just sounded so glad. But when I walked in, they went silent, and I think I ended up on more than one guy's shit list just for walking in that door."

Chief Justice Haliburton cleared her throat, glancing over at the stenographer, who was keeping very strict and explicit notes. "Please edit that last statement on the part of the testifier. Mr Whistler, may I remind you that this courtroom expects a certain decency of language."

Private Whistler slapped a hoof to his lips, his cheeks flushing red in embarrassment. "Oh, sorry miss, it's become a force of habit." 

The Chief Justice didn't show any sign of understanding or compassion. "Then while you are under oath, see to it that you break yourself of that habit."

Whistler nodded quickly before the stoic and cold Chief Justice. And he took a moment to recapture where he was in his story. And finally, he stammered out, "A-after I got settled in, then the trouble started. At first it was just a wad of paper or two thrown at me while I wasn't looking, then it came to shoving when they walked by, and a few times they took my clothes and threw them in the latrine. And once they... they threw me a blanket party." Whistler's hoof involuntarily drifted up to his stomach, where he held in at the painful memory of that night in the Delta Company barracks. "It was... it was embarrassing, and it hurt. But I wasn't going to get beaten by a few threats and ugly stares in the barracks."

The soldier pony took a moment to gather his breath and shake away that nearly traumatizing memory. "But you know what? I didn't ask for a transfer, I didn't go cry to my CO, and I sure as shoot," this time he intentionally avoided using his new habit, "didn't punch back. I smiled and took it like a stallion. And after a while, they just started running out of steam, and they ignored me more than anything. But then, my first patrol duty came along, and my whole company got shipped out to the northern frontier to drive out a clan of trolls that wandered in. We hit 'em hard, but we took our blows too. And right there on the battlefield, as I was field dressing a broken arm or putting a compress on cut, I could see the appreciation in their eyes. And after that, they started talking to me, sitting near me in the mess hall, and one or two of them even gave me back the stuff that they stole from my footlocker. A few weeks later, and a patrol or two later, the whole company started being nicer to me. And once a few of them started admitting that I saved their lives out there, they started acting more like my friends."

Lyra placed a hoof on Johnny's shoulder, giving him an appreciative nod. "Thank you." And she stood from her chair, walking out front again. "And we should all say thank you to Mr Whistler. He has done more to help this country, to help humanity as a whole than most humans in this country can claim for themselves. He has saved lives, he has placed his own life in mortal danger, and not a single person asked him to do so. Johnathan Whistler repaid his ancestor's debt to humanity through service and good intent. If anypony in this country deserves the right to vote or the right to get the same medical care, or even know that his children will be taught alongside human children, it's this fine, patriotic stallion. But everypony in this country has something to offer that will help to ease that pain that we caused humanity."

Again she scooped a list from her desk, placing a pair of reading glasses down on the end of her muzzle. "Within this city, in the past two days alone, I have met several doctors, artists, skilled carpenters, lawyers, even politicians. And they were all ponies, out of work, and destitute because of favored employment status of human beings. The doctors can't get the government to issue them a license to practice medicine; the artists are scorned, and can't practice their art to enrich this country; and I assure you, if pony lawyers were allowed to practice their skills, I would not be representing myself up here. But like Mr Whistler, we can give our full potential to this country if you let us! The ponies of Terra can mend so many rifts and make this country so much more than it already is, but only if you let us try. Madame Chief Justice, I close my argument for the day, thank you for listening."

And as David Bennett stood from the respondent's desk and began with a congratulations for delivering such an emphatic argument, Lyra leaned over to whisper to Johnny.

"Hey, you did good today," she whispered to the pegasus stallion.

"Thanks," he replied. "You know, until you came and talked to me, I wasn't really on board with this whole 'civil rights' deal. Now I'm kinda getting excited about it!" the soldier pony whispered back.

The mare chuckled under her breath. "I have a feeling that after today, the movement is going to be hitting faster and harder than ever before."


********************************************


Tap tap tap.

Tap tap.

Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap.

...tap.

The chips of marble flew off the block with precision and masterful grace. Sometimes they came in a furious shower of inspiration and artistic flame. Other times, they lazily fell away from the expectant sculpture, piling on the ground in little drifts of gray and white commissioned disappointment.  Though the commissioned sculptures lacked that edge and the flavor of the ones he did on a whim, they were still prized by those who owned them.

Art was a returning fancy in Lazarus. With their souls cleared of the taint of chaos and the scar of a flawed creation healed, humanity was looking both inward and outward to find beauty in the world with a fervor not seen since the days of the Renaissance. Aaron Patterson had not lied when he said that humans would be showing aptitudes for a special talent, even on a savant level. When they finished with their daily work, many would go back to their homes and relax, writing poetry and stories, singing songs and penning tunes, painting art from any era of human history, and shaping stone and clay into sculptures. Anything that could be done to express both heart and soul was embraced with passion. And of course, none in Lazarus knew better how to show their passion to the world and make flecks of stone fly from an uncarved block better than Allan Sedgway. 

He placed the rounded tip of his chisel on the forming shape in the stone, tapping his mallet on the butt of his chisel to carefully remove the chips of stone from their resting place. Each and every moment while working on a block of marble was life or death, and a bead of sweat trickled down his cheek from the stress of the upcoming swing of his mallet, one that would  either be another one of the tens of thousands of crucial swings in order to make a work of art that held the entrapment of its critics with its detail, or the single swing it would take to make the most expensive paperweight in Lazarus.

He took the swing, and the chip of marble flew away from the gentle curve that it had been a blemish upon. Lazarus's most famous sculptor and the artistic rising star of the Republic took a step back from his current project. He wiped his sweat away from his brow with a rag, making absolutely sure not to touch the sweaty rag to any piece of marble that he still needed to work on. The oils in his skin could discolor it, and ruin the potential art within.

Allan walked away from his unfinished project, sitting down on a bench by the door of his small home. He lived on the edge of the city, near the forested edge of the park, where few people could hear his oftentimes frantic tapping and clinking and where even fewer would bother to complain about his art. 

He took a long sip from a cool, sweating glass of lemonade, his scrutinizing eyes looking across his yard at the partially completed statue. She would be a pretty thing to behold, and one of his favorite things to portray: an angel. A few of the members of the growing druid group had pooled their cash and commissioned this soon-to-be beauty as a decoration for their shrine. Of course, his angel would be much more impressive if she was life sized and not only a foot tall.

"Hmm," he hummed, a grin curling the corners of his mouth upward. "Just a day or two more, some polishing, maybe a little bit of paint, and you'll be a centerpiece. Maybe you'll be someone's Galatea."

It hadn't always been his dream to carve sculptures. Originally, back in the good old days of the twenty first century, he had been a hopeful art student at some now-forgotten community college. Of course, the classical forms of art had not been his interest, like most of his graduating class his vision of zeitgeist-rattling works of art was spray-painting the wall of an abandoned warehouse with some obscure political satire. He didn't care about the art, all he cared about was scoring with all the anti-establishment chicks that were nuts over anyone who had an arrest for vandalism on their record. It had been a simple life; spend the day squatting in neighborhoods that most sensible people considered too dangerous to even come close to, work just enough to pay for food, and then go tag the underside of a bridge with his best impersonation of Banksy.

But, he had always looked at the great statues of his time with a sense of wonder. And it was only after the climactic end of the great War and his several millenia hibernation that he truly realized that he could shape marble and clay almost to his will. 

Before, the song of his life had been the hiss of spray paint cans and the godawful screeching of indy-rock bands. But now, in this strange new world of magic and talking animals, a world where gods and spirits were quickly becoming the new norm, he found a new song that led his life. 

Every block of stone had within it the potential to become something truly beautiful, and whenever Allan got close to an unformed block, he could see the potential that it held. And once he picked up his mallet and chisel, he could almost swear that the stones whispered to him, gently telling him to take their formlessness and turn it into something that people would admire. The matrix of the marble would sing to him, and he would try to sing back with his tempo of chiseling and scraping. And once he was done with his song, he would take a step back, and see the glory that had been given. Even if his statues could never move on their own, he could almost swear that he saw them smiling out of the corner of his eye.

Taking another sip from his cold glass of lemonade, he continued to look across the yard at the rough form of the angel on the carving pedestal. "Hmm, should I make her anatomically correct?"

Of course he wasn't thinking about the bust of his bust. He was more concerned about the angel's wings. If he continued with the design that he currently had on paper, the one that he had sketched out under the critical eye of his customer, the block of stone would not be able to accommodate the sheer size of the wings. If he went smaller, he would be going against the customer's wishes, and it could obscure the nature of the statue from certain angles. 

He rubbed a hand along his chin. "Ah, guess you'll just have to keep your wings folded in, pretty gal." 

Allan stood from his seat, walking back over to his project and picking up his chisel and his mallet to work on the details of his angel's flowing dress. He resumed his song with the stone, matching the voice of the marble matrix with the tap and clink of his chisel. 

He worked tirelessly under the hot sun, so entranced in his work that he failed to notice the visitor that walked up the road and stood silently as he chiseled out the finer details of the statue's bare feet. His visitor watched silently, noting Allan's technique and his fervor for his trade.

And only when he felt satisfied that he had found just the right person, he cleared his throat.

Lazarus's most promising sculptor stopped in mid-swing of his mallet, peering over his shoulder to see who had interrupted him. And when he saw his guest, he set his mallet and chisel on the worktable and turned to face him fully.

To his surprise, an earth pony wore a slight grin as he leaned on the corner of the sculptor's house. The pony's coat was a light shade of yellow, with a gray mane that was accented by a streak of light green. A pair of saddlebags rested on the dusty ground next to the stallion's hooves.

"Can I help you?" Allan asked cautiously, wary of the pony who had managed to sneak up on him while he was fully within his artistic zone. 

"Yes, you're Mr Sedgway, aren't you?" the pony asked back.

"Yeah," the sculptor said. "I'll ask one more time, can I help you?"

"Of course!" the stallion cheerily quipped. "I'm actually looking for a piece of marble, preferably white Yule, if you have it."

Allan raised an eyebrow, wondering why a creature like a pony, one of the types in Lazarus that usually didn't have the money for opulence, would want a statue. "Yeah, I have a block of Yule, right over there." He nodded over to a two-foot tall block of marble sitting over by his shed. A piece that sang to him like a church choir, and one that he just couldn't seem to bring himself to lay a chisel on. 

The pony trotted over to the marble block, getting his muzzle very close to the rough surface of the block. "That's a fine piece of marble. Clean cut, straight grain, no visible inclusions. May I?" he said, glancing back to Allan.

Mr Sedgway nodded once, and the pony ran his hoof over the block, feeling every little grain and wave, each tiny little mote of stone that had been laid down as sediment and silt, pressed into stone, cooked by the heat of the Earth's mantle, and pried from the ground to become something greater. With a smile, the pony turned back to face the human who had waited with his arms folded and a distrustful eye on him.

"Indeed, it is a fine piece. Masterfully cut, with no visible flaws  that I can see. Which is why I would like to purchase it, good sir," the stallion said very politely, pulling a purse full of shining gold bits out of his saddlebag.

Allan had been skeptical, wondering if this pony had simply come to scope out his home so that he could burgle the place later, but at the sight of gold coins, he immediately gained an interest in this potential customer. "Well, you can't just buy a statue on commission for a predetermined price. I need a rough idea of what you want, when you want it, what kind of inscription you might want, if you need a base or a pedestal. And after that, it's all down to sketches and measurements, which you have to approve or the commission is terminated. All the important details."

The pony smiled, shaking his head. "You misunderstand me, sir. I came here to buy a blank block."

The stallion's statement made the sculptor's curious eyebrow climb even higher up his forehead. "Why would anyone want to buy a blank?"

The strange pony chuckled under his breath. "Because I, like yourself, am an artist!" the pony said with a flourish and a bow, swinging his flank around to show the hammer and chisel cutie mark.

Allan's look of professionalism and curiosity melted into a more sour expression. This pony had first come along as an interloper, then made his intents as a customer known, and then declared himself as a competitor! Suddenly, the prospects of making a sale to this pony, even if it was just a minor, contract-free transaction, left a sour taste in his mouth.

"In that case, the price for that block just went up," Allan muttered, turning around to re-immerse himself in his current project. He grabbed up his chisel and mallet, tapping at the dress of the angel statue.

In spite of Allan's stone-wall approach to selling the block and just communicating in general, the artisan pony appeared by his side, pressing the issue. "If it's any kind of consolation for the price of the block, I'm not a sculptor like yourself. I don't do three dimensional art, I do bas-relief carvings. I used to ply my trade in Canterlot, chiseling out scenes from legend in the walls of the rich and wealthy, and occasionally doing some touch up work on a few of the statues in the Castle Garden."

"Don't care," Allan muttered, tapping harder and harder on his chisel. 

"And to be fair, a block of white Yule isn't exactly the rarest of blocks this side of Canterlot-" the strange pony stopped himself, peering at Allan's angel with a discerning eye. His jaw soon loosened, and fell slack as he too began to look at the beauty emerging from the unfinished block.

"Amazing," he whispered. "Truly astounding. She's... she's beautiful. I didn't know there were pegasus-humans," the pony murmured, pulling out a pair of glasses and taking an even closer look.

Allan stopped himself before he could swing, laughing under his breath at the pony's ignorance of human "breeds". So far, the only breed differentiation that had been seen were the new magi and the old generation, whose strength and heart seemed to be manifesting like that of an earth pony.

"There aren't," he replied, setting down his mallet and leaning an elbow on the workbench. "She's an angel. A winged messenger of God from some of the old religions." There was something about the pony's legitimate interest in his work that seemed to allay his offensiveness, and Allan continued on. "She's a malakhim, one of the lowest orders of angelic choirs, and one of the only ones that people think are pretty enough to actually depict. Heaven forbid that I should try to do a Throne, or an actual Cherub. A real Cherubim looks more like a chimera than an actual human." He gave his statue a loving and gently gloved pat, a slight smile creeping up his cheek as he seemingly forgot that he was talking to a pony.

"Fascinating," he pony murmured. "Were there many depictions of these 'angels' in the ancient world?"

Allan nodded absently, still lost in the still-rough shape of the delicate and feminine form. "Yeah, no church was complete without a couple of angels either in stain glass or in statuary." The sculptor lost himself in the song that the marble angel was singing to him, and from the corner of his eye, it seemed to be that the pony could also hear the soundless call of the stone.

The pony cleared his throat, and his hoof drifted up to sheepishly rub his mane. "I'm sorry if I came off as a little brief about the block. It's just that... in this city, ponies like me don't really have the privilege to indulge themselves in anything more than a watered down beer once in a while. And seeing that block just made my hooves itch to get chiseling again. You understand what it's like, right?"

And indeed he did understand. For when the lights had gone out, and the door had shut on his stasis module just over two millenia ago, the deathly sleep of stasis had not been without its dreams. There was a reason why the few psychiatrists that had managed to work their way into Project Lazarus had found overwhelming success in the newborn Republic. Sometimes the dreams just did not go away, and sometimes they needed to be worked through for months and months. Some people even said that now their nightmares were chased away by a friendly presence, one that the druids believed to be their very own matron, guarding the dreams of mankind, just as her daughter did for ponykind.

And when the nightmares had come upon him in the eternal sleep, they had been of loneliness. He would stand in a crumbling city, or a ruined plain, crying out futilely for any living soul. And in his brightest of dreams, he still could not find another soul to soothe his loneliness, and would reach into the ground, prying a heart of rock from the very loam of the dreamscape, and he would carve a companion. In the absence of other human beings, his dreams would let him shape the immaterial world into a friendly face.

Allan nodded slowly, swallowing the oftentimes painful memories of stasis and the eternity of dreams. "Yes. I know what it's like." He blinked hard, coming back to the real world and the concerned face of the still unnamed earth pony. "You know what? She's all yours." He waved a hand to the pristine block by the shed. And with a grin, the pony set down the purse of bits on the workbench, trotting over to his newly purchased blank canvas.

"You know," the pony said after a few moments of inspection. "I don't really have a workshop of my own, or a workbench. Would it be too much to ask if I could use one of your benches for a few hours?"

Allan shrugged, turning back to his own project with mallet and chisel in hand. "It's a free country," he said quietly. And with a start, he realized the irony of that statement, especially with the situation that this pony found himself in.

But the earth pony did not seem to notice nor care about the irony, and with some strain he managed to shift the block onto his back, and he carefully balanced the heavy stone, moving it over to a waiting workbench by the shed. And once he had it situated properly atop the bench, the pony reached into his saddlebags and carefully pulled out a rolled leather pouch. With his teeth he un-cinched the clasp and pushed it open, revealing something that drew Allan's attention away from his own work with sheer awe. 

The pony gently pulled what appeared to be a chisel forged from pure silver out of its loop, and a mallet carved from rosewood and decorated with carvings of what appeared to be a maker's mark. It was easily the most beautiful set of tools he had ever seen. And the sculptor thought for a moment that they must be ceremonial or completely decorative; no idiot would make a stonecutting tool out of a precious metal!

And when the pony laid a basic outline on the smooth face of the block and traced it through with a heavy pencil, Allan knew that he was serious about using that silver chisel. When the pony reared up on his hind legs, holding the chisel and its accompanying mallet in his curled fetlocks, and placed the tip on the hard surface of the marble, Allan cringed as the mallet came crashing down on the butt of the chisel. But to his surprise, the blade of the chisel did not instantly bend, the shaft did not bow, and a large chip of marble flew off the block, just as the earth pony had planned.

Okay, he got lucky, Allan thought to himself. And thinking that the nearly priceless tool would break with the next swing, the human sculptor resumed work on his own project. He placed the flat edge of his own steel chisel along the extended right arm of the angel figure, giving light taps to smooth out the surface of her arm.

For the next few hours, the song of the stonecarvers filled the yard with a chorus of taps and clinks and gave a show of showering stone chips like a show of fireworks. Each carver worked silently yet fervently, the matrix of the marble calling to them, telling them where to strike to make the beauty inside come alive. 

And with each tap of the pony's chisel, Allan waited for the muted curses and the flurry of swears that would come when the silver chisel snapped. But it never came, and only the satisfying shower of rock chips came from the pony's workbench.

It was only when Allan peered out the corner of his eye to steal a peek at the pony's work when it began. His eyes flew wide open at the sight. Though he had begun only a few hours ago, the pony already had the rough cut of his relief almost cut out! Setting his jaw firm, Allan gripped his mallet and chisel tighter, swinging more frantically at the statue of the angel. And once the earth pony's sharp ears heard the much quicker tap of the mallet behind him, he too began to pick up the pace.

And when Allan heard the pony pick up the pace, he in turn began to whittle away at the statue's defenses with more reckless abandon than he had ever before. This pleasant morning of work, peace, and quiet had suddenly erupted into something far more than that. Now it was a competition, a race with no visible finish line. And the only way to win was to make the other person disqualify.

For another hour each of them furiously pounded their individual blocks of marble like a woodpecker that had learned that the mother of all grubs had insulted it from inside the bark of an oak tree.

And around the sixth hour of their mutual work and the beginning of the second hour of the faux-competition, the unthinkable happened. Allan worked on the flowing hair of the angel, slightly going against his client's wishes by having her hair spilling down her back and between her wings instead of being tied back, and he came to a knot in the stone. A dreaded inclusion, likely formed when a tiny pebble of igneous rock had been pressed into the sediment hundreds of millions of years ago and had been cooked into the layers by the heat and pressure of the mantle, and one that would require an extra amount of force to break through as well as the perfect amount of care to make sure that it did not take too much of the marble with it if came loose.

But he was in a hurry, and the stress of "losing" to an earth pony whose name he didn't even know was making him take risks that he normally would just work around. And when he cocked back his mallet, his arm bulging with the muscles he had built over the months of being in the sun and breaking stone with barely more than his own strength, he swung as hard as he could.

The tip of the chisel sheared through the inclusion, taking out the chunk of deviant and defiant rock without breaking a sweat. But when he had swung his mallet, Allan had forgot to take into account the angle of his chisel. And with so much force applied in such an odd way, the shaft of his prized and beloved chisel screeched in protest, and finally snapped.

The disembodied tool fell to the dust, and Allan simply stood there, too aghast at what had just happened to fully comprehend the situation. For all his professionalism, for all his growing fame and ever increasing fortune, that had been his only chisel. Even if he was the most famous sculptor in Lazarus, to anyone else in his field of art he was just a lucky rookie, one that thought he only needed one set of tools.

Allan fell to his knees, gently lifting the broken head of his tool from the dust and cradling it in his hands. A hundred thoughts flashed through his mind; if he would have to find another job, if he could find anyone in the city with the skills to replace or repair it, and whether the song of the stone would ever sound the same again.

He could have sobbed for his loss and his foolishness. On the day that the soldiers of Greenewell had decided that the people of the Undercity could come up and begin building their homes and lives, he had gone through the storage vaults, and found this stone chisel in a pile of other assorted tools. It had been his prized possession, and his livelihood since then. And now it was all gone, shattered and lying in the dust. 

But when all hope seems lost, there is always a hand, or in this case a hoof, to help one up.

Allan failed to notice that a ringing silence had completely overtaken the work yard, and only when a shadow came over him did he look up. The earth pony stood there, holding his rosewood mallet and silver chisel in his outstretched hoof with a smile on his face.

"Here, use mine," he said, offering the priceless tools.

The human sculptor looked up in confusion, and slowly he took the silver chisel from the pony's hoof. It felt warm to his touch, and he could feel an energy within it, one that promised to make the stones sing like a choir, but only if he knew how to set the rhythm. 

He stood, and turned back to his angel with the silver chisel in hand. Placing the flat edge against the stone, he gave the butt of the chisel a tap, and to his surprise, the stone underneath it peeled away like wood shavings. Under that edge, the marble gave way like pine wood, and Allan turned back to the pony, mystified by the offering.

The pony chuckled to himself. "Quite a piece, isn't it? I had it specially enchanted by Barnabus the Dappled, a great enchanter who lives way up north. He said that it would make stone fall away like wood, and make the song of the stones ever clearer to those who knew how to listen."

"It's the most incredible thing I've ever felt," Allan said quietly, running his thumb in circles across the grain of the handle. 

"Yeah, it's a set of three, so you can keep that one. A gift from one artist to another," the pony said with a friendly smile.

Allan whipped his gaze back to the pony. "Really? This is... this is too much. I don't even know your name."

The pony offered a hoof. "I'm Chip Block."

And for a moment, the human sculptor looked at the offered hoof as if it would bite him. But when he looked into the pony's benevolent eyes and found no enemy there, he knew that perhaps the nightmares of loneliness would fade away now. 

"Allan. Allan Sedgway," he said, taking Chip's hoof and giving it a firm shake.

And all across the growing city of Lazarus, ponies took that step into the deep end, and worked their way around the stone wall that the humans had placed between themselves and the rest of the world, and offered their hooves and their hearts to humans in need of a friend. For that was the goal of the movement, not to bully their way into garnering the same rights as human beings, but rather to prove that the magic of friendship healed the wounds that were rent, and made for a brighter future for everyone.


****************************************************************


But across the city, indeed several miles away in the countryside of Terra, the ponies were taking a more underhanded route to garner public support for their movement. One that promised to have far more political implications than simply making friends or protesting.

After a few quick meetings at the Watering Hole, a group of ponies had quickly figured out a way to benefit the country at large, increase the public's positive view of the former denizens of Equestria, and open up jobs for the unemployed ponies of Lazarus. And to do it, it would take some old fashioned Equestrian know-how.

Way out in the countryside, out in the small oases of human agriculture that were hewn out of the rough forest and harsh terrain, a small group of ponies walked up a road that led to a newly built human homestead. Despite having been only recently cleared for timber, the fields all seemed fertile and clean of any stumps or weeds. It was nearing high-noon, and none of the farmers were in their fields, having escaped indoors to beat the burning sun.

But if all went well, that would change. The ringleader of this latest endeavor stopped before the door of the quaint little farmhouse, shooing away her comrades and mentally preparing herself for this next step in human-pony relations. She was a plump little earth pony mare, with eggshell white fur and a green mane that hung together in thick strands, almost like leaves of a plant. And though it looked like she dyed her mane, the yellow roots at the bottom of each hair were perfectly natural. To many who knew the mare, they said she looked like a plump little onion.

Clearing her throat, she knocked on the door, put on her most inoffensive smile, and waited to be answered.

Someone shuffled around inside, and the door creaked open, a sun-tanned woman poking her brown-haired head out.

Once again, the mare cleared her throat. "Good afternoon, ma'am! My name is Vidalia, and I represent the Creatures for a Better Terra. May I speak with the head of the household?"

The woman opened her door all the way, and she folded her arms under her bosom. "You're talkin' to her. What do you want? You nearly woke my baby up, and I don't really care for you or your kind being on my property."

"Now ma'am," Vidalia said in a comforting voice. "I meant no offense by coming here today, I only wanted to tell you about a special offer that the ponies of Terra are offering to our fellow citizens, particularly those like yourself who are involved in the business of agriculture."

The farmer gave a snort of derision. "That so, huh? I already had the fields turned, so I don't need a plow horse."

Vidalia ignored the acidic comment, one that the heavy conservatives of the country had taken to using when they were around the equine citizens. "No ma'am, this service does not concern tilling. In fact, I think it would be better if you read this pamphlet."

The mare whipped out a thin pamphlet that a few ponies had scraped together just last night and presented it to the farm woman. Raising an eyebrow, the woman did not reach out to take it. 

But Vidalia had been through this scenario too many times on this stretch of country road already to just give up, and she maintained her smile and held out the pamphlet. The woman sighed, rolling her eyes and taking the little scrap of paper and reading through it.

Her eyebrow crept up her forehead, and the farmer peered over the edge of the paper at Vidalia. "Irrigation? You're offering... irrigation services?"

"Yes indeedy!" Vidalia said with plenty of positive energy. "You see, in Equestria, ponies like myself have been known worldwide for our incredible agricultural success! Through a unique system that engages all three breeds of ponies, we have been known to produce vegetables that are three times the normal size, and at only a fraction of the growing time! In fact, since the induction of this rather ancient system, there has been no recorded famine or widespread crop failures in Equestria in over twelve centuries! And as a gesture of good will, we, the ponies of Terra, would like to offer you, the humans of Terra, a free trial of our system!"

"Free trial?" the farmer asked curiously. Leaning out of her door, she peeked around, looking for the heavy water tanks and miles of piping that it would take to water all of her fields. And all she saw was a few ponies of each breed just standing around idly, waiting for a cue. How in the hell could they be going door to door, offering free trials of their system without any equipment?

"Yes ma'am! This system does not require the tediousness of piping, eliminates the possible threat of erosion, can be used over any area of farm fields, and is safe and completely natural! So, whaddya say? Care to get a free trial of our patented system?"

The promise of free irrigation was too tempting, and the woman gave a nod. "Alright, go ahead, show me your system."

Vidalia's smile lit up, and she turned around to her team of ponies. "Alright boys and girls, you know the drill!" 

And all at once they sprang into action. A team of earth ponies split up, each of them heading to a different part of the farm fields, carefully picking their way through the rows of tender crops and inspecting the soil. Each of them carried a pencil in their teeth, and they took notes about the soil quality, what kind of crops and how far along the crops were in each section of field, what the soil acidity was, if there was proper aeration, and so forth. After a few minutes, the earth pony crew galloped back to Vidalia, who took their notes and penned the information onto a spreadsheet that she had whipped out of her saddlebag. 

And once Vidalia had all the information she needed, she shouted the orders to the unicorn crew, who began their part. A half dozen horns lit up with magic, and the team of magic users concentrated on a certain spell, one that was easy enough for even the simplest unicorn to accomplish. The humid moisture in the air began to thicken, and eventually turned to a wispy fog, and finally into a bank of clouds that neatly covered the entire farm.

Once the unicorns finished their spells, the pegasus crew received their orders from their boss, getting the specific amounts that each part of the fields would need. One by one they took off, zipping through the low hanging clouds to the sunny side above, and bouncing atop the moisture laden clouds and causing a gentle shower of rain to blanket the farm.

After the rain had given the crops their exact right amount of moisture, the pegasi cut the waterworks, and moved the clouds off and away from the farm. All in all, it had taken the crew of ponies less than fifteen minutes to water almost twenty acres of crops. And with such a perfect watering, they would not need a good rainstorm for another week!

"Wow," the farmer whispered. She had underestimated the ponies' ability to irrigate her fields like that, and she hated to say that she was actually pretty impressed.

"Tactical rainstorms," Vidalia said with a wink. "Been workin' like a charm in Equestria since the Tribal Unification."

The farmer shook herself out of her funk, wondering what the fine print on all this was. "So, how much would a service like this cost me?" she asked with narrowed eyes, suspecting that the price would be exorbitant.

Vidalia cleared her throat, whipping out a sheet of paper that included all of the weather service costs. "Well, if we factor in pay for the workers, permits, Air Force clearance for the pegasus ponies, it should come to around... a hundred and fifty dollars a month. BUT, we can knock that price down drastically!"

"How?"

"By making this a government service instead of a public one! You see, if we were to be private contractors, we would have to charge you directly for each storm. But if we were to work for the federal government, we would only have to increase federal taxes by, let's say, a dollar or two."

One dollar?! the farmer thought to herself. That was an absolute steal! For such an even and perfect watering, and the prospects of bigger crops with quicker maturation, it sounded damn well worth it! Hell, with increased sales of her crops, that service would easily pay for itself in a week or two!

"But," Vidalia started again, this time in a far more somber voice. "We can't push for the formation of a weather patrol. Ponies like ourselves do not have the civil rights that we need in order to form a petition and a proposal. If we had the rights, I assure you, we would have formed this petition to get a weather patrol formed the day ponies were allowed in Lazarus. But unfortunately, that's not the case."

The farmer shifted uncomfortably on her feet. Here this group of ponies had come with the promise of a cheap and efficient method of vastly increasing agricultural output, and now that hope had been dashed by the situation the ponies found themselves in. "What can I do to help?" the farm woman asked.

Vidalia visibly brightened, and she brought out a pair of papers that bore dozens of signatures. "if you would sign these petitions, we can take that first step."

"What are they for?" the woman asked, taking the papers and a pen from the mare. 

"Well, that first one is a petition to the Senate to create a weather patrol and to slightly increase taxes to cover the expenses. And that second one; that one is a petition by the humans of Terra to give the ponies of Terra the right to make and sign a petition."

The farm woman took a deep breath, looking out at her freshly watered fields, wondering how much more the creature citizens of the human nation could benefit them. They had already proven that they could drastically increase the output of crops, and who knew what else they could accomplish if they were given the same rights?

And with a nod, she signed her name on both of the petitions.


****************************************************************


Back in the market district of Lazarus, President McGoff walked down the street with two of his soldier elites at his back, wearing their full combat gear and with assault rifles in their hands. Despite the heavy presence of the men who had come to act as his Secret Service, this was typical for the first president of the Republic of Terra. If he went jogging, they would go jogging right behind him, in full combat dress nonetheless. 

Tyler needed no real reason to roam the city at his leisure, but today he felt as though he should be more secretive than usual. He had an appointment to make, and though there was nothing truly secretive or treasonous about it, the president felt as though it was a dirty secret that he would have to keep. Not because of what the appointment was about, but who he was going to talk to.

McGoff took a sharp turn to his right, leaving the sunny sidewalk and heading inside the open door of a tearoom along the market street. The place was quaint, a small restaurant that offered the comfort of home cooked food that was served in a room that felt like his grandmother's china parlor. Everything in that place felt both tacky and antique at the same time, like the floral printed china plates lying on a pristine white tablecloth next to odd little chicken and rooster saltshakers.

The hostess working this shift walked with a nervous smile over to the leader of her free state, and she half-curtsied and half-bowed to the president, not sure of what the protocol was for a random visit by the head of state. 

"Mr President sir, um, a table is ready for you in the back room," she said, nervously waving her hand toward the back. McGoff nodded to her, walking through the doorway to the private room meant for lunch meetings for businessmen. 

And when he looked at the person already at the table, the president nodded to his pair of guards, who wordlessly took their positions outside the door to the private room.

The man at the table stood for his guest, extending a hand in greeting. "Tyler, glad you could make it," Vice President Smitts said to his superior. "Have a seat, I've thought ahead and ordered some coffee." 

Even shaking his hand felt like making some kind of deal with the devil, and Smitts certainly looked the part. His black hair was excessively greased back, and his smart looking suit would not be out of place in the wardrobe of a senator, a business shark, or on Old Scratch as he tried to bargain for a soul. Smitts lit a thin cigar, taking a puff of the cheap cigarillo and resting it in his thin, ringed fingers. 

"So," said Smitts. "You finally decided to ask for my advice. Decided that letting me handle the Senate wasn't quite the full extent of my job description, hm?"

McGoff gave one curt nod. "I'm here because Patterson thinks that I'm not handling the situation like I should be, and he pointed me to you."

"Smart man," Smitts replied. "An invaluable asset to this country, a man who has earned his reputation, and continues to build a reputation that is going to leave him as a legend. Of course, if he were in our position, I suspect that your wizard would crumble under the pressure. We of course are a different type of man, Tyler. We are the ones who work behind the curtains, making the deals and putting our feet down when we want something."

The waitress nervously walked in through the door, carrying a shaking platter and setting down a carafe of coffee between the two men. "Can I get you gentlemen anything?" she asked.

Smitts flashed a warm smile. "Yes sweetheart, I will have a Kansas City Strip, cooked medium rare with a side of the house's freshest asparagus."

"Very good sir. Mr President?" she asked McGoff in a much more nervous tone, her eyes flicking out at the pair of stone-still soldiers standing guard.

"Yeah, I'll just have..." He stopped for a minute, checking over the menu. He scanned over the menu, not seeing anything that was more his rough and tumble style. While Smitts may have been weaned on this kind of dignified upper class fare, McGoff would have been more comfortable ordering a bacon cheeseburger at some questionable, greasy joint. "Just give me the soup."

The waitress nodded quickly, scribbling down his order and scampering away to the kitchen. Smitts silently watched the entire ordeal, shaking his head in disapproval. "You should have come to me earlier."

"Why would you say that?" McGoff asked, taking a sip of his cup of coffee. 

"Because you, my fine sir, are not President material."

"Excuse me?" McGoff grated, narrowing his eyes. What could be mean that he was not President material? He had led humanity through literally the harshest and darkest times that the species had ever seen, made peace with their most ancient enemies, and he had forged a nation through the sweat of his own brow!

A few curls of cigar smoke lazily drifted down from Smitts's  mouth. "Right. Let's dissect what just happened, shall we? That waitress walked in already receiving the wrong message from you. She almost spilled all the coffee just getting past your boys out there. Face it, she was terrified of you, because people in this city still think of you as General McGoff, the man who intimidates Princess Celestia on a regular basis. The man who declared war on a race of monstrous bugs and is so far kicking their asses. You see, the people of this city don't see you as President McGoff, a politician and head of state. They see you as the valiant soldier, the man who won the Great War without a drop of blood being shed in the final battle."

The Vice President ground out the remains of his cigar, pulling another out of his jacket pocket and lighting it with a rather expensive looking lighter. "And after you scared the living daylights out of that poor girl with your trained killers standing outside the door, dressed to go to war I might add, then you showed the ultimate weakness: indecision. You took two full minutes to make a decision that should have been on the tip of your tongue. A leader has to have to knowledge to make a split second decision and make it seem like he knew what his course of action was the whole time."

McGoff shrugged. "So what? I took a little while to order a bowl of soup, what the hell does that have to do with a bunch of ponies wanting civil rights?"

"Everything," Smitts said calmly. "And I wasn't finished yet. Even after you ordered, you failed to acknowledge that girl. You have to treat people like they voted for you, like you owe them a tiny favor at any given time. Who knows, she may have actually voted for you, and you just waved her off. What kind of a message does that send?"

Now that he thought about it, it seemed like all the small things were piling up rather quickly. "Not a very good one."

"Precisely! Being President is less about actual leadership and more about presence, about image, and being a figurehead that people can fall in behind. There's very little of that "Situation Room" bull, and believe me, I was on my fair share of committees and emergency panels."

McGoff chewed on those words, and it suddenly hit him. "Heh, it's just like the Army. Your CO may be a complete jackass, but you fear and respect him because of his presence."

Smitts took another puff from his cigar, the corners of his mouth curling up. "You're starting to catch on. Now, we know that as you are, you make a terrible public image. So what I'm going to do is groom you for your office. It may seem like it was all the public's idea for someone to get elected to the office of President, but every single man who got to sit behind the resolute desk was groomed for that job from the day he got out of high school. The Bush family made a damn art out of it. Look at George Junior, a man who convinced the world that he was a complete idiot, and yet he held that office for two whole terms because his daddy taught him to mind his P's and Q's and how to look like the President of the United States."

The clink of plates from the doorway silenced the pair of statesmen, and the waitress bustled back in with a steaming bowl of the soup du jour and Smitts's steak on an antique, pony made plate. She placed the dishes in front of their respective customers, folding her hands over her apron and giving a nervous smile to the President and his Vice. 

Smitts raised an eyebrow at McGoff, giving a discreet nod over to the waitress. McGoff cleared his throat, turning in his seat. 

"Thank you, young lady. Have a nice day." The waitress nodded excitedly, bustling out the door with a bit more grace than before. Turning back to his vice, McGoff raised an eyebrow. "Better?" he asked.

"Somewhat. You still need to be polished in almost every facet. First, we're going to make you less of a General, and more of a President. Those boys out there, the ones that I told to beat it once they started following me around, they're gonna start wearing suits now. No more military uniforms. And for God's sake, no goddamned assault rifles! It's all about appearance to the public, and if you look and act like a general, people are going to act like they live in a military junta. You want these people to be on your side because they think that you're on their side, not because they're afraid for their lives."

The Vice President of the Republic punctuated his point by slicing through his steak, leaving a stream of pink blood across his plate. Popping it into his mouth, he savored the flavor of actual beef, bred from pre-Surge cattle that had been stored as embryos years before the Surges and the War. "The rest, it's all kissing babies, cutting ribbons, letting Boy Scouts tour your office, the kind of small things that make you seem like a decent human being."

McGoff's patience was beginning to wear thin, and he slapped a hand heavily on the table, rattling the silverware. "Damn it Eddy, cut the bullshit and just tell me what to do about the goddamned ponies! We can groom me to be a better head of state later, but this little movement of theirs could boil over at any moment! International relations are being strained, our people are getting scared that something huge is going to go down, and the two of us are the only people standing between order and chaos!"

Smitts dabbed his lips with a napkin, maintaining his composure and not worrying in the slightest. "Tell me, Tyler, what's your platform?"

"What?"

Smitts rolled his eyes. "What do you stand for?" he reiterated.

McGoff sighed, taking his head into his hands, groaning loudly at the situation he found himself in. "I don't know. Truth, justice, and the American way?"

"Wrong answer. You stand for the people of the Republic of Terra. I was there when you swore that oath, said you would do anything and everything within your power to protect the people of this nation. So, that's your platform. Now, I'm going to ask you the most important question that you'll ever hear. What kind of a legacy do you want to leave?" Smitts let McGoff consider that one, taking another savory bite of his steak.

"Legacy?"

Smitts nodded. "Yeah. Do you want to be the man who is questioned in his day, but beloved in a hundred years for his accomplishments? Or do you want to be the man who is little more than a footnote, a person who people recall fondly, but schoolchildren will groan when they are stuck doing a report on Tyler McGoff, because he was little more than just a placeholder until the next mover and shaker could take office?"

McGoff stared rather blankly at the cryptic Vice President of the Republic. "I... I'm afraid I don't understand."

The weaselly man set down his cutlery, folding his fingers, taking a deep breath. "Harry Truman. Thirty-third president of the United States of America. The only man in history who has ever commanded the use of nuclear weaponry in anger. Two hundred thousand Japanese souls, snuffed out in two flashes of light. At the time, it was considered one of the most horrifying acts of inhuman cruelty ever committed. Probably one of the reasons why Patterson's friend went apeshit on us. But we remember Harry Truman today as a good man, a man whose actions caused the immediate surrender of the enemy, and stopped the bloodiest war in history right in its tracks. Because over time, we have learned that World War II would have dragged on and on, with possible tens of millions more dying in ground invasions and endless naval battles. Harry Truman sacrificed his own reputation to save his country and its people, and it was only years later that we realized that."

He paused for a moment, taking a sip from his cooled cup of coffee. "Then, on the other hand, you have men like Grover Cleveland. Sure, he had good ideas, did some damn good reform, and almost completely overhauled and re-balanced both Congress and his Cabinet. But, he did not take any risks that would have radically changed everyone's perception of him. He could have stuck up for the Indians, made sure that Arthur's cavalry didn't run them off their lands. But all in all, Grover Cleveland was a candle that slowly burned out, and now almost nobody knows who he was or what he did. So, you can decide what kind of a legacy you want to leave behind. Do you want to be a man who is praised in a century when the wisdom of his actions are realized? Or do you want to fade away, having done all you could to make sure that everything stayed on track and changed almost nothing?"

Tyler leaned back in his chair, taking a deep breath, wondering what the true best course of action was. The way Smitts told it, the only choices he had were to burn out or fade away. Had Truman known his choice would become one of the darkest moments in history? Did he know that it would cut the war short, and save millions of lives? None could truly know the consequences of their choices, not until the the choice had been made.

"I think Truman was onto something," McGoff said to his vice. 

Smitts nodded, grinning to his boss. "Good. Then the next time something major happens with this movement, we'll release a press statement, and make ourselves martyrs." He grabbed his cup of coffee from the table, holding it up in a toast. 

"To martyrdom, and doing what we hope to god is the right thing."
> The Name is Heartstrings
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kraemer and other property owners governed a restrictive covenant brought as a class-action civil suit to the state court of Illinois, seeking to block the entry of Shelley, the defendant, from owning property in their township. The Shelley family, a family of African-Americans, sought to purchase property in the district. When brought to the Illinois State Court, the plaintiffs lost the case to the defendants, but this decision was turned over a few months later by the Missouri Supreme Court. However, this decision was appealed before the federal Supreme Court, where it was decided by the federal Justices that restrictive covenants based on race and enforced by private organizations were both unconstitutional and hurtful to the nation at large.

Lyra took in a deep sigh, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her hooves over her aching and tired eyes. Slipping a hoof to her back, she rubbed in slow circles just above her rump, trying to loosen the tightened muscles. Aaron's office chair was not a pleasant place to sit for hours on end, especially for the poor quadruped who sat in it at least five hours a night.

Looking back to the open book in front of her, she sighed as she snapped it shut, levitating it back to the book shelf where it belonged. The Supreme Court case of Shelley v. Kraemer of 1948 had not been an enjoyable read. Most of it concerned property law and the discrimination against races when buying and selling lots of residential property by associations of home and property owners. 

It was boring with a capital B to say the least. 

And with a quick check of the basic set of Terran property laws, she could say with certainty that there were no explicit laws forbidding ponies and other creatures from purchasing property in supposed "humans only" districts of the city, nor any laws specifically enabling humans from preventing the entry of a would-be pony property owner into their neighborhood. Ponies were just too poor to afford those sites. So she had wasted four hours reading about the most boring case to have ever concerned the rights of man, and it didn't even concern anything that she stood for in court.

Her main objective was to get ponies and humans on a legal level where they could see one another as equals and hopefully forge a greater relationship. They were barely on the first date with each other, and it would just be crazy to ask the humans if they could move into their place. So she forgot about applying Shelley v. Kraemer to her next argument, and stared at the ceiling until she could work up the willpower to rifle through another thick law book, seeking some kind of all-powerful answer in the precedents, a veritable diamond in the rough that would make her entire case a snap decision.

But the more and more she read, and the more she considered herself an expert on the history of human civil rights, the more she knew that the deus ex machina did not exist. Human civil rights movements had always been solely about humans. Like the Dean of Medicine in the Undercity hospital had said before, there had never been a situation in history when humans and other intelligent creatures had existed peacefully in the same time and place. So there never could have been any case to concern their rights to ever reach the courts.

Lyra groaned out loud, reaching out with her magical aura to grab the next book in the series, unceremoniously plopping it down on the desk, flipping it open to the first page, and starting the long process of looking for any relevant mote of information. Propping her head up on a hoof, she skimmed over the page, and flipped through the book one page at a time.

"Boring crap," she murmured, flipping the page. "Surprise, more boring crap. And what's this? I can't use any of it? Joy."

"And yet, you're still going to read every paragraph as if it were a wealthy relative's last will and testament," a ghastly voice said.

Lyra's amber eyes peeked up from the pages of the law book, watching the flickering spirit orb of her legal counsel materialize through the western wall of the study. "Where have you been?"

The orb seemed to turn a shoulder to her. "Out talking to the locals."

"Locals? Are there other ghosts just following people around, bothering them?" For a moment, Lyra's mind treated itself to a comical farce where everyone had a ghost following them around and pestering them, and everyone also thought that nobody else was burdened by the constant presence of an undead companion. "Or did you get drinks with a pretty necromancer down at the ol' pub?" she asked sarcastically, knowing that his place was here, actually giving out advice instead of just wantonly vanishing every night.

The ghost of Mr Darrow gave a loud harrumph, settling into a habit of circling around her head like some kind of obsessive firefly. "Local spirits. The little woodland sprites, spook-lights, the lesser entities of the spirit world. The least of the Earth Mother's children, whatever you want to call them. They're chatterboxes, and they tend to hear things that most other beings tend to ignore. So I've been asking around, seeing if any of them know anything that might be helpful to you."

Surprised that a possible lead might have come from odd little nature spirits, Lyra brightened up visibly. "And? Did they say anything?"

"What they didn't say is the more proper question. Once you start talking to one, they never shut up. Mostly it's about what they saw a grasshopper do, or which oak trees are going to grow slightly faster than the others, or even how to best avoid becoming a snack for an elemental. But no, they did not say anything useful. So get back to your reading."

Lyra groaned loudly, rolling her eyes. "There's nothing here that matters," she replied, waving a hoof towards the open tome on the desk.

"Why don't you say that to the men who will write this country's history? Why don't you go into that courthouse and say that you withdraw your argument? With that kind of attitude, you might as well!"

"But it's all useless! None of this stuff even matters in my case!"

The ghostly orb flared red in anger, spinning about to face her. "None of it matters?! None of it matters?! These were the cases that changed a nation, these were lives that were placed in front of the whole world to be judged, these were men and women who were enduring the same thing as you! These people, all of them, they understand your struggle, and it is only fair and goodly that you understand theirs. Only if you understand their struggle can you learn how to overcome your own."

The mare sat quietly, taking a deep breath. Inside her head, she endlessly shamed herself for forgetting about that. It was the struggles of people that she was meant to be studying, not the endless minute details concerning cases that were dead even to the descendants of the people that had created them.

"I'm sorry," she said, lowering her eyes to the desk. "I'm... I'm just tired. I haven't slept right in a week. And I... I can't help but think about all the people who I'm gonna let down if I can't do this."

The glow of Mr Darrow dimmed, as the ghost felt ashamed himself. "Don't apologize."

"Why?"

"Because I forgot that you're only huma-... that you're only a person. You're not some restless phantasm with millenia of free time on your hands. You're an average person, and sometimes I forget that."

The smallest smile crept onto Lyra's face, and with the look of absolute love and adoration that she was wearing, Clarence began to feel slightly uncomfortable. 

"What are you grinning about?" he asked gruffly.

"You almost said, 'You're only human'. Thank you." The ghost found himself trapped in a light golden magical aura, being dragged closer to Lyra's face. And to his chagrin, she gave him an honest peck on the face, along with a thankful nuzzle. 

"Alright, stop it. Cease! Desist! I demand that you release me at once!"

After a moment, she obliged him, and released her magical grip on the specter. "You enjoyed it and you know it."

Clarence grumbled something, then resumed floating around the study, murmuring to himself about cases he had seen and been in concerning civil rights, plumbing the deepest depths of his memories for the one tactic or smidgen of information that would allow their side to gain the upper hand. And with Bennett holding the simple advantage of being a human representing a case before a panel of humans, he held the advantage, no matter how much tenacity Lyra fought with. Even now, so many court days and so many good arguments in heavy favor of Lyra, the deep set mistrust of her kind might just lose this for her.

Whistler's opinions, as well as his status as a pony whose very job and existence tore down several of the barriers that separated the two species, had been helpful. But they needed something that would hit harder, something that would be more official. 

"Where is today's paper?" he asked, ceasing his endless circuit to hover before the mare.

Lyra wordlessly tilted her head over to a crumpled pile of newspaper by the waste bin. And already, Clarence knew that to be a bad sign. Had it been neat and orderly, Lyra would not have felt the need to toss it away in such a disorderly manner. Well, it could be taken one of two ways, neither of them exactly good. 

The papers could have dug up some dirt on Lyra or one of the other major leaders of the movement. They could have started a slander campaign aimed at driving a wedge between the ponies and their hard-won human supporters. Anything that wasn't an article casting the creatures of Lazarus in a better light was potentially detrimental, and it could be one of the reasons why his client was in such a mood.

Or, there could have been nothing at all. The paper could have mentioned absolutely nothing about the movement, the case, the rise of the creatures of Lazarus, or even the growing international response. Which in itself could be the worse alternative, meaning that the civil rights movement and Lyra's case were losing public interest, and would soon lose all of the headway that it had made.

Clarence shuddered as he zipped over to the crumpled up paper, diving in without the need to unfold it in any way. The words and letters hung around him in the ethereal world that he inhabited, and the ghost did his best to pick out any key words that pertained to them. After a moment or two, he zipped out.

"Fifth page. They have you relegated to the fifth page. Damn it!" he swore loudly.

Not even looking up from her current page, Lyra shrugged. "What are ya gonna do about it? We're old news now."

"You're behind an interview for the basketball team's captain! How can you not be outraged?"

"Because I don't have time to be outraged, or pissed off, or to relax, or time to read anything except these books," she said rather quietly. And in those words, Clarence could see that his regimen of court, study, and meeting with movement heads was hurting her. When he had met her for the first time, he had found a broken mare lying there on a bench in the shrine of the Singing Crystal. And he had taken her, broken down and misshapen, and began to rebuild her into a creature of politics and procedure, one who could step into the ring of the justice system and put her foe on the defensive.

And it was destroying her. 

His process was hurting the person that she had been before he met her, and he could only feel guilt about doing that to a person that he learned had once been so happy and carefree. If he had been back at law school, and seen somebody like Lyra slaving away so fervently at a case, deep down he would have known that the poor bastard was going to burn out, that he wasn't cut out for law. 

A soft knock at the door drew Lyra's attention away from the law book, and she nodded to her undead legal counselor. Clarence did his typical routine, hiding away in her earring. 

"Come in," she called softly.

The door carefully cracked open, and to the mare's slight surprise, a familiar blonde-haired woman poked her head in. 

"Hi. Um, Aaron and I were just gonna fix up some dinner, you want to join us?"

Lyra shook her head slowly. "I'll pass. I've got a lot of stuff I need to work on, and it's all just a mess right now. Maybe some other night." 

"Okay. Offer still stands if you get hungry in a little bit," Anita replied, quietly closing the door as she left.

As soon as the door gently shut, the ghostly attorney left his safe haven, as if it was even needed. The most he could ever affect Ms Cook was giving her a slightly chilled feeling if he passed through her, or perhaps raising goosebumps on her skin if he focused hard enough. Even though she had come to the house for a few days in a row by now, she had just been a presence on the fringe of Lyra and Clarence's private world of study and rhetoric coaching.

"She seems nice," he said offhandedly.

"She really is," Lyra replied just as noncommittally. "She manages to put up with Aaron's crap all day. In my opinion, that guy has some issues with relationships. Not to mention having a job that I would take any day of the week."

"Huh? What does she do?" the ghost asked, less out of real interest and more out of a need to make mindless chatter to hopefully undo some of that damage that he realized he was causing his client. 

The mare looked up from her current book, taking in a breath and letting out a dreamy sigh. "She gets to check up on  all the new human babies in their homes. She's a social worker or something like that. Came and checked out the human homes in Ponyville."

The words "social worker" and "Ponyville" tingled the senses of the ghost, and he snapped back to the situation at hand. "Wait, what did you say?"

Lyra just cracked a grin. "That she's the luckiest gal I know. Got a healthy relationship, gets to work with kids, good job with good pay. I kinda envy her."

"No, about her being a social worker! Did you say that she went and visited your home town?"

Lyra's dreamy moment began to fall away. Slowly, she raised her eyebrow and leaned forward in her seat. "Yeah, she came for a week to inspect the Coppell's home, the schools, Ponyville hospital..." Her jaw nearly hit the desk with how low it fell. 

The ghostly orb glowed brightly in glee. "She's a government worker who has professionally assessed the potential living conditions of a human in your society. Do you understand what that means?"

The wide smile on Lyra's face could only say yes. "Her word is technical precedent! Every single one of Bennett's arguments saying that we can't live safely together could be made void!"

Mr Darrow laughed loudly. "And you thought that all that I've taught you was useless. And all she has to do is testify in your favor! Sure, it's not a huge leap forward in civil rights, but it is a massive step forward in the cohabitation and coexistence argument. Mrs Heartstrings, do you know what you should do?" 

She was too excited to properly think, and she shook her head rapidly. "No, what do we do next?"

In the swirling mists of Mr Darrow's immortal essence, she could swear that she saw a broad smile. "I think you should go have dinner."


***************************************************


"We're so glad you could join us," Anita said sweetly, laying down a large bowl of pasta on the dining room table. 

"Yeah, thrilled," Aaron grumbled under his breath. This dinner was meant to be a little more romantic than anything else, hence why he was using a stream of arcane fire to light a candelabra at the center of the table. 

Lyra sat down at a hastily brought in third chair, not caring in the least that she had interrupted a possibly romantic evening that could have ended with some "intimacy" between him and his girlfriend. "I hope I'm not imposing," she said more out of a sense of manners than an actual feeling of imposition. 

"Not at all!" Anita replied.

"Kinda," her boyfriend muttered.

Anita shot Aaron a scathing and acidic look, one that shriveled what was left of the man's defiance and crushed his masculine spirit under the weight of her feminine power and wiles. With a smile she turned back to Lyra, passing the large bowl of freshly made pasta to the mare.

"So, Lyra, what do you do for a living?"

Lyra scooped a healthy helping of pasta onto her plate with her magic, wondering if Ms Cook knew about cutie marks or not. Typically, if a pony got a good look at another pony's flank (which in Equestrian society, where pants were almost unheard of, was not considered impolite or perverse) they could generally tell what the other pony did for a living. "I'm a musician. Mainly the lyre, but sometimes I do play the harp for orchestras and such. I actually came here to Lazarus to play my harp at the gala in the park." 

Now was the time to start working her way towards earning Anita's trust. "And how about you? What does such a successful person as yourself do to pay the bills?"

The young lady in question dipped a ladle into a steaming pot, laying a thin layer of some of the most delicious smelling tomato sauce that Lyra had ever smelled onto her plate. "Oh, nothing much. I'm just a social worker for Republic Social Services, specializing in childcare and early life welfare."

"How interesting," Lyra said, leaning closer. "You know, I've heard that social workers meet such interesting people."

Anita chuckled under her breath, passing the pot onto Lyra. "Well, it could be better, and it could be worse. I could be one of the two that have to do work for entire families, or my friend Janet who is specializing in the field of community development and higher education. So when all the little kids under my jurisdiction get old enough, they transfer over to her jurisdiction. And after that, they move over to Mr Hinkley, who specializes in trade and union workers as well as social security for the elderly. It's all a thorough system."

"Fascinating," Lyra said, not caring about the technicals, yet leaning forward and resting her chin on her propped up hoof. 

The man of the house narrowed his eyes at Lyra, knowing that the minty unicorn was up to no good. "I'm a wizard," Aaron chimed, trying to derail Lyra's efforts. Both Anita and Lyra glanced at him with a less than interested eye. "Well it's true! Just thought I would throw in my two bits."

"Sure you are," Lyra said sweetly. "Oh, wait a minute, so am I!" she said with a victorious smirk, lighting up her horn with magic and layering a heap of sauce on her pasta.

"She's gotcha there," said Anita, twirling few strands of pasta onto her fork and taking a bite.

But Aaron wasn't concerned with that. "Hey, Archmage of Ponyville, you ruined your own supper," he replied with a victorious grin on his face.

Lyra raised an eyebrow, looking down at her plate. Everything seemed normal; the noodles were cooked to perfection, there was just the right amount of cheese, she even ground up a little peppercorn to add some kick. Everything was fine, except the sauce seemed a little... lumpy. 

She looked closer, trying to determine what exactly was giving the tomato sauce such a texture. And then she remembered her journeys through Kali'Gryph and its sister kingdom across the sea, Gryphonia, in search of evidence to vindicate her belief in humans. Every time she dined with one of the friendly avian/felinoids, they would make her food separate from their own to prevent contamination from....

"Is... is this... meat?"

Aaron scooped a large chunk from his own plate, forgoing cutlery to prove the point with his fingers. Popping it in his mouth, he chewed it loudly. "Italian sausage. Cost me an arm and a leg to buy it from the delicatessen. Who knows, there's probably an arm and a leg somewhere in here!" he said, laughing to himself at Lyra's obvious discomfort.

Anita realized the implications, that as a strict herbivore the consumption of meat was one of the greatest taboos in her society. "Aaron, you're being a jerk!" she hissed to the man across the table. Turning back to Lyra, she said as apologetically as she could, "I'm so sorry, I didn't know that he was cooking with meat tonight. I'll see if there's a can of regular sauce in the kitchen."

It was a good sign that Anita was willing to go out of her way to ensure Lyra's comfort, but to actually be such a bother would be a detriment to her goal. "No need," Lyra said. And as soon as she said that, both of the humans went silent, staring at her like she was leaking snakes and spiders out of her mouth. "I'll just eat around it. And besides, this ain't my first little tryst into... meat. Yeah, I've been around the world, a little... sausage, is no big deal for me." 

She was bluffing. Of course she was bluffing! The closest she had ever come to actually tearing voraciously into the flesh of another living creature had been eating a single sardine aboard a minotaur passenger ship, and that had been by accident! Even the thought of ingesting it was making her stomach churn. And as a filly-fooler, she didn't even like the suggestive shape of sausage! Well, she figured, if there was one way to prove that humans and ponies weren't so different, it was this way.

Swallowing her trepidation, she levitated her fork, jammed the tines down into the pile of desecrated pasta noodles, rife with the ground up flesh of some poor livestock creature, and brought a forkful of it to her mouth. Carefully sliding the noodles onto her tongue, the sweet flavor of tomato, and the tasty sharpness of the cheese was overwhelmed by an alien flavor, one that reminded her of iron. And when her teeth came down on the little chunks of meat, they squished in her mouth, reminding her of tiny seeds filled with juice. It had a chewy feel to it, one that was totally unlike any kind of fruit or vegetable that a pony normally dined on.

But, as she defied every instinct within her and swallowed it down, she actually managed to surprise herself. "Not bad." But the second it hit her stomach, a loud rumble and groan erupted from her belly, and Lyra doubled over as her body fought against the intruding proteins. "But not good," she groaned, clutching her stomach.

Shaking his head, trying to hold in his laughter, Aaron stood up from the table. "I think I have some salad greens in the kit-"

"That would be nice!" Lyra said before he could even finish, still clutching her complaining stomach.

"Get me a glass of wine while you're in there!" Anita called as Aaron left the room for Lyra's replacement meal.

"Make it two!" Lyra shouted after her. If she couldn't gain Anita's trust by betraying her own basic biology, maybe a little bit of free flowing alcohol could help dissolve that barrier. And time was short, Ms Cook typically left Mr Patterson's house right after dinner each night, and there was no knowing if she would be available for the next convention of court.

"So, yeah, I'll admit it, I'm not much of a meat-eater," Lyra confessed as soon as Aaron left the room.

Anita nodded. "I kinda figured as much. But hey, just because we can eat meat doesn't mean it's good for us. I mean, when I was in college I became a vegetarian, partially because meat cost too much, and partially because it was something I could do to make myself feel smug. But I'll confess something, around three months in, I pretended to be some frat boy's girlfriend for an hour so that he would buy me a steak."

Despite the loud complaints of her gut, Lyra smiled. "Tell me about it. One time I was in northern Zebrica, you know, the part where it's not all zebras, but more camels than anything, and I paid some kid fifty bits to find me a piece of fruit. Took him six hours, and after I ate it I got really sick for a couple of days..." She stopped herself, remembering what she had been told so many months ago, that it was a disease that she had picked up in northern Zebrica that had rendered her infertile. Perhaps that camel youth had felt slighted that she ordered him around like she did, maybe he had given her an intentionally poisonous melon. Maybe that hadn't been the case at all, maybe it had been one of the dozens of mosquito bites or any of the hundreds of encounters with isolated tribals, always asking about their most ancient mythologies.

"Are you alright?" Anita asked, seeing that the look on Lyra's face was not one of pain, but of regret.

"Yeah, I just remembered something. Something that I probably shouldn't have said or done."

A glass of red wine and a bowl of salad greens appeared by her hoof, and she looked up to see a sympathetic face. Aaron had heard, and he too remembered that night in the basement of Golden Oaks Library, when a "certain entity" had divined the root cause of Lyra's problems. And though still wary of Lyra's intentions with his girlfriend, he backed down on his hostilities. 

The meal passed with hardly anymore problems, except the occasional empty glass. Lyra and Anita chatted almost non-stop for a full hour, even to the point where they disregarded Aaron's proposal of everyone pitching in to help clean up. Instead, the man ended up grumbling and groaning beside a tall stack of plates and bowls, and ended up doing it all himself while the girls went and retired to the den with the bottle of wine. 

It was the chivalrous thing to do, and for a moment the man thought of himself as honorable for relieving the burden of such a menial responsibility from the two fair ladies. And then he remembered promptly that he was in fact not a hopeless romantic from sixteenth century Italy trying to favor his way into a woman's bed, and he silently cursed at the intrusions of some other desperate jerk's memories into his own. 

But for Lyra, the evening was turning into a pleasant surprise, despite the meat fiasco. The mare didn't think she would actually make a friend out of this, but she found that Anita's gentle nature, entertaining stories, and her outgoing personality were really starting to catch her interest. At first it had been all subliminal schmoozing on Lyra's part, just trying to gain the woman's trust, but as the evening went on, she found herself just telling stories and honestly laughing more than anything.

"And then... and then, there I am, drunker than I've ever been before, somehow I managed to get on top of the statue of Princess Celestia in the middle of Canterlot. And I'm screaming it to the world, "Lyrica ain't got nothin' on me!" Because back in high school, Lyrica and I were always butting heads for first chair harpist, besides the fact that our teachers ALWAYS got our names mixed up! I mean, how hard is it to tell? I'm a unicorn, she's an earth pony; she's purple, I'm green; she's a stuck up bitch, and I'm at least tolerable in small doses!"

The woman laughed, a gentle and sweet laugh that reminded Lyra almost too much of the clarion laugh of Dreamy. "My god, that's so much like this one woman I knew back in my sophomore year of college! Her name was Tracy... something, I can't really remember. Anyways, I think she was some kind of crazy stalker, because she was a natural brunette, but after I moved in to the sorority, she dyed her hair the same color blonde as me. And she only signed up for her classes after I signed up for mine, and then comes the first day of class, guess who's sitting a row behind me! Every class, every day for two semesters! Thank god she flunked out."

The mare chuckled, levitating the glass of wine to her lips to take a sip. "Some people just can't take a hint. But who am I kidding, I used to be that way."

"How so?" Anita asked, topping off her own glass from the increasingly empty bottle of wine.

Lyra sighed, leaning back into the soft cushions of the couch, one made by the skilled hooves of her people, with the comfort of a pony in mind. "Well, everypony says I've always been more bullheaded than a minotaur. I mean, before... well, you guys came around, I always believed in your kind. Nopony else really thought anything of it, they just thought I was crazy and left it at that. They told me I shouldn't waste my life chasing old mare's tales."

"So, we're like fairies to you guys? All mythical and stuff like that?"

"What? No, everypony knows fairies are real. And flitter ponies too. Believing in humans was more like... believing in the Olden Pony. Humans were just something that old timers would tell to their children to scare them."

"Wait, so fairies are real? What do they look like?" Anita asked, growing very curious very suddenly.

Lyra shrugged, going by memory about what she knew. "Well, they don't look as pretty as a human, that's for sure. They're these little bug people, only about three or four inches tall. They have four wings, and they look kinda like a naked rat, if that makes any sense. Why do you ask?"

Anita sighed. "Well, in Aaron and I's time, it wasn't too odd for a girl to fantasize about fantasy men. Like, some women would die for a chance to be a vampire's girl, or my mom always wondered what it would be like with a merman." Taking a longer drink from her glass of wine, the woman sighed once more. "Can I tell you a secret?"

This was it! The ultimate show of trust! If she said yes, then she might just have enough of the woman's trust and friendship to ask her to testify, or leverage in case she didn't want to testify. "You can tell me anything," Lyra replied, zipping a hoof across her lips.

Taking another sip from her wine glass, she readied herself. "Okay. Aaron is the sweetest, kindest guy I have ever dated. And I really, really like him. But... he's just not the type of guy I go for."

"Really? I thought that you two were Terra's sweethearts right now."

"I know! It's just that, I tend to go for... manlier guys. A guy who has a hard, rocky exterior, but a soft heart. I mean, I saw his friend the other day, Mr Mattson, and if I wasn't already in a relationship, you better believe I would be flirting with him! But with Aaron, it's all reversed. I mean, he's really affectionate and sweet on the outside, but inside... I don't think I could ever understand what's going on inside of him. He tries to lock away his real emotions, and sometimes I can't even tell if he's with me or not. Like he just stares out into space, like his mind is always elsewhere."

Lyra nodded slowly. She knew what it was. She had talked to Twilight and Dr Whooves for hours on the subject of Ponyville's resident humans. That even though they seemed like perfectly normal functioning members of Equestrian society, there was something that plagued their minds that actually made them deviant from normal human behaviors. The questioning pony in Dr Whooves had quickly determined that a good portion of the human race was undergoing some kind of shock from their introduction to a new world, and that many of them suffered from some effects of post-traumatic stress. 

But to say that might offend her new friend, and with Aaron it would only be the partial truth. "It's the magic. We unicorns go through that phase in our development. Get really introspective and stuff like that. In unicorn terms, he's just settling into his new power. It's kinda like a second puberty for unicorns, except that it happens at the same time as normal puberty. Which is also why it sucks being a unicorn parent. I'm guessing that it will also be the same for magi children. But, maybe if some unicorns were to step in, maybe help out all those confused humans by taking some of that burden off their shoulders, it could all work out."

Not exactly subtle on her part, but time was growing short, and Anita could ungraciously stumble out of that front door at any minute.

"So, what do you think about the civil movement?" Lyra asked, gently pressing the subject while adding just a tad more wine to Ms Cook's glass.

Taking another long sip, Anita chuckled. "S-S-D-D, that's what I think."

"Huh?"

"Same shit, different day," Anita explained. "This kind of stuff isn't exactly novel. I mean, back in my day. Hey, look at me, I sound like a dusty old woman! Anyways, back in my day, you couldn't go three days without some group marchin' on Washington, demanding that some long-standing law get repealed, or for the government to enforce equal opportunity to the point where it wasn't even equal anymore."

"So it's the same old stuff for you? Don't you care about the rights of the people?"

Anita groaned, even the haze of her slight drunkenness lifting as she was put on the defensive. "Look, I know who you are, Lyra. Your name is all over the papers, and you're the talk of the whole nation. And I know what you're trying to accomplish. But... I can't say that I agree with that."

A look of shock and awe fell over the mare's face. "How can you say that! I mean, look at us, less than five minutes ago we were telling each other our deepest secrets! I mean, how can you say that our races can't get along when we were pals just a few minutes ago?"

Anita set down her glass, her aura of friendliness and cheer melting away. "I never said that our people can't get along. I never said that we can't live together. But your whole point is that we are so alike that we can raise one another's children! How would you feel if a human came to Equestria and tried to adopt a pony? What if they wanted to raise them like a human, feeding them meat and teaching them to dress and talk like one of us? Even if they got it all down just right, they won't be human. They'll be a pony that acts like a human, and will never truly be a part of human society. And... and I don't know if it's the fact that in my life horses made the transition from farm animals to... you, and I don't know if it's the fact that my species is now on the endangered species list, but I just can't support my people letting you raise one of our children."

"But I wouldn't have a problem with it! Nopony I know in Equestria would say anything bad if a human decided to adopt one of our foals. We don't judge people based on who they are!" she replied angrily.

An offended look crossed Anita's face. "I'm not doubting that your kind would be fine with it, I'm doubting your kind's ability to raise a human child! It's not even my professional opinion, I just don't think that you can handle one of our children!"

A long silence fell over the room, and Lyra's eyes drifted down to the floor. "I'm sorry. And if you honestly feel that way, I can understand. But, maybe we can still be friends, right?"

Anita sighed, nodding once. "Yeah, we can still be friends."

Levitating her glass, Lyra gave a hopeful, yet defeated grin. She took a sip, then drained the rest of the glass as an afterthought. "I've got things I need to do early tomorrow, I better go to bed." 

Walking out the door to the den, she almost ran into Mr Patterson, who was leaning against the wall outside of the den.

"Do you really have to spy so much!" Lyra growled.

The man shrugged. "It's my house. Nothing is said or done here without me knowing about it. Nothing," he said with emphasis. "So, you and Anita getting along?"

Lyra sighed, her head drooping down. "Not so much anymore."

"Mm, that's what you get for trying to make a friend into a tool."

Lyra looked back up, and a quizzical look crossed her face. "You knew I was just trying to get her to testify in court? So, you knew the whole time that her testimonial could have cut short the whole case?"

Mr Patterson tapped a finger to his temple. "I have God's WiFi password, I know things that I really shouldn't know, and things that I don't want to know. Yes, I knew that Anita could have gone before the court, said that everything between the Coppells and the citizens of Ponyville was honky-dory and that little Ms Sophia was a shining example of a human being safely raised in pony society. But I know that Anita doesn't want to jeopardize her career, her social life, and her future on a gamble like your case. You know that I can't do anything to influence your case, and as long as Anita and I are together, she has my proxy. In fact, anyone that I care about, anyone that I'm close to has that same immunity." 

Lyra snorted. "You think that everyone you're close to isn't already involved?" She leaned closer to the magi, hissing to him in a voice that was barely above a harsh whisper, "I know things that you don't know. You think you're the only one with friends in high places? Think again."

And with a huff, she passed him by, going straight back to her bedroom. Standing alone in the hallway, Aaron was dumbstruck. If he was guessing right, those who claimed to be purely neutral in any human affairs were taking sides. And apparently, his matron had already picked. Shaking his head, he determined to himself that he would try to salvage something of tonight's dinner travesty, and he summoned another bottle of wine, stepping into the den to his waiting lady.

And when Lyra tossed herself between her sheets, not even bothering to do her little evening hygiene ritual, she took a deep sigh, closed her eyes, and tried to sleep. But sleep was hard to come by when one had a dead soul hovering inches from their face.

"How did it go?" Clarence asked.

Lyra rolled over in her sheets, taking in another deep breath. "Sometimes things just don't work out."

Back out in the den, Aaron was having a tough time trying to relax his girlfriend's mood. And when he found out she had far too many glasses of wine, he insisted that she stay the night. And without another word of argument, they both went up to Aaron's bedroom, and fell exhausted into the sheets.


***************************************************


He couldn't see a thing, but he knew he was somewhere familiar.

Perhaps it was the fog of the unknown, and as Aaron walked through it, all he could see through the thick shroud that encompassed the entire world were the ruins of house and home as they came within touching distance of his fingers. There was silence, the veritable sound of winter ringing in his ears. Walking through the streets of a ruined city, he stopped to touch the stone of a blasted home. He screamed as the stone burned his skin like the hottest fire, and he stumbled back, clutching his hand. He gripped it close, knowing the burn to have gone down to his bones and turned his flesh to ash. Peering down at his limb, he found it unharmed and whole. And without questioning the stones that burned with cold fire, he determined that he needed to leave this place.

Aaron walked through the thick mist, seeking the edge, trying to find his way out. But the more he walked through the misty ruins of an unknown city, the more he became convinced that the entire world had been enshrouded. 

"Hello?" he called. His voice echoed through this empty place, flowing out into eternity without any calls back. He waited, listening for any response. And just when he began to turn away, to seek another way out, he heard it.

Aaron stopped himself, straining to listen to the voice in the mist. A child's voice, by the sound of it.

"There," he said quietly, pinpointing the direction. And with no end to this foggy disaster area in sight, he stumbled on towards the growing sounds of children laughing in mist.

As he came closer to it, the sounds grew louder, the mist grew ever thicker, and he found himself without breath. Aaron struggled to breathe as the laughter of children at play surrounded him. And finally, after walking through what seemed like miles of this city in ruins, filled with the obscuring mist, he saw her.

A single child, a little girl. Standing alone, staring down at the broken pavement at her feet. Her stringy hair covered her face, and her dress was torn, burned, and tattered. 

"Little girl?" Aaron called with what little breath he could draw in. Taking a few steps closer, his skin crawled and his mind screamed at him to run.

She raised her arm, slowly pointing to the man as he approached. 

"One, two, he comes for you," she began to sing. "Three, four, pray no more. Five, six, shadow and tricks. Seven, eight, lies and hate. Nine, ten, the devil within."

Aaron reached out with a trembling hand, and parted her hair. The little girl looked up, and instantly Aaron knew this to be his darkest nightmare. Her ashen skin was covered in sores, and her once shining and beautiful eyes were nothing more than rotted pits in her skull.

Opening her mouth, the walking corpse began to scream, a wail that pierced through Aaron's bones and brought him to his knees. Clutching his head, he tried to drown it out, but the screams came through. And all around him, the mist began to recede.

The city in ruins, the avenues running slick with blood, the burnt skeletons of homes filled with the living corpses of those who had once loved and cherished this place, a city that Aaron knew all too well. This place, this ruined city, was Lazarus.


********


Aaron sat bolt upright, clutching at his chest and feeling the blood pound through every vein in his body. His trembling hands came up to his face, wiping away the cold sweat. He was still in his bed in his home in Lazarus. Beside him, the form of his girlfriend filled the sheets, her chest slowly rising and falling, a sign that he hadn't awakened her.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he murmured. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he sat for a moment, holding his head in his hands and reassuring himself that it was just a bad dream. "The fuck was that about?" he asked himself. 

Carefully rising from his bed, he walked over to the open bathroom door. Leaning himself over the sink, he took a deep breath, and tried to calm his racing heart. Fumbling with the knob, he turned on the coldest water he could get, cupping his hands under the flowing faucet and splashing it onto his face. 

He repeated that process several more times, until his cold sweat was washed away and his feelings of dread were scrubbed off. Aaron grabbed the nearest towel, gently dabbing at his face until he was patted dry.

He looked up into the mirror. "What the fuck is really going on in my head? Am I going nuts?" Carefully he pulled an eyelid back, looking for any signs of dilation that came with stress induced psychosis. He checked the other eye, finding no physical signs of anything being amiss. "Maybe this one really was just a bad dream."

Huffing at himself for getting so worked up over nothing, he grabbed on the edge of the mirror, and pulled it open to get at the medicine cabinet behind it. He quickly chose a single aspirin to help with his heart troubles, and popped the pill into his mouth, swallowing it down with some difficulty. 

But when he shut the door to the medicine cabinet, he knew something was horribly wrong. 

Though it was his face that stared back at him, it was a form of his own body that he had only seen once, in a form that would haunt him to the end of his days. Aaron stared into the mirror, into his own eyes, eyes that had gone from his normal hazel and become an endless abyss of dark fire. He lifted a trembling hand, one that in his mirror image was tipped by claws and touched his ash-skinned cheek.

"No..." Aaron whispered. "No! You're gone!"

And to his endless horror, the monster in the mirror moved on its own, cracking a broad smile with its row of jagged teeth. 

"Miss me?" his dark doppelganger asked.

Aaron fell back to the wall, screaming in horror as the demon god began to reach through the mirror, stepping out into the world. 

"No! NO!" Aaron screamed as the Devil himself laughed at the pitiful creature before him. His laugh shook Aaron to the very core, and Aaron felt the cold arms of fear close around him as the demon latched his clawed hands around his throat.

Hot breath, reeking of decay and the smoke of burning corpses, poured over his face, and the demon leaned close, his face barely an inch from Aaron's. 

"Tell me," the monster hissed, "What's your worst nightmare?"


*********


"Aaron, wake up!" a woman's voice said to him. 

Aaron continued to kick and scream, trying to free his arms and legs from the bedsheets that had become wrapped around him like a cocoon. 

"Shh, shh, you're alright, you're alright," the gentle voice said to him. "It was just a bad dream, you're okay."

Aaron slowly began to calm, and he reached out for the voice in the dark. And to his surprise, the person that embraced him did not have the smooth, warm skin of a human. But rather the silky fur of a pony. Cracking open his eyes, Aaron's gaze was met by the sight of a body of aquamarine fur.

"Lyra?" Aaron whimpered.

The mare held him gently with her hooves, nodding to him and softly saying, "Yeah, it's me, it's Lyra. You're okay. It was just a bad dream."

Not knowing what to do, and still reeling from the inescapable horror of his nightmares, Aaron curled into a small ball, clinging to the mare as if she could protect him and banish away the hideous face of the monster that he had seen in the mirror, so much like himself, yet so perverted from his natural form that it could only exist as a demon dragged from the most damned circle of Hell. Lyra's hoof slowly stroked his back, and she hugged the man to herself. "Shh, shh, it's alright now. Nothing's gonna hurt you," she whispered.

It felt odd having to reassure a grown human that the boogeyman was not going to get him, but something about laying there in his bed, softly crooning to him and reassuring him felt right. It felt like the motherly thing to do, and right now, that man needed someone to hold on to.

Finally, after a few minutes of holding him, telling him that it was alright, Aaron regained his composure. He still breathed heavily, and as he leaned up in his bed, he felt his bedsheets clinging to his body from all the cold sweat. 

"Ann?" he asked, seeing that her side of the bed was empty. Lyra let go of him, and nodded over to the doorway. Anita stood there, holding a hand over her mouth in utter terror.

"I... I didn't know what to do," she quietly said. "You were screaming so much, and-and I couldn't wake you up. I thought you were gonna hurt me. I had to go get Lyra." Anita looked over to the quiet unicorn, her eyes giving silent thanks for amending the situation.

Aaron ran a hand through his hair, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself. "It's okay," he said to her. "I'm alright." He said it more to reassure himself than the woman or the mare. "Did I hurt anybody?"

Lyra placed a comforting hoof on his arm. "No, we're all fine. Now you should get back to sleep, it's late." Her horn lit up with magic, and she concentrated on a spell that would ease him into a dreamless sleep. Aaron nodded, and he lay his head back down on his pillows.

"Lyra?" he said.

"Yeah?" the mare answered, appearing by his side.

He reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you," he said before slipping away into a deep sleep.

Satisfied that he wouldn't endure anymore nightmares tonight, Lyra turned to leave the room, only to meet Anita at the door.

"Can I talk to you for a few minutes?" the woman asked. The mare nodded, and a few short minutes later the pair sat in the kitchen, a pair of hot tea mugs sitting in front of them. "I'm... I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I thought you didn't have what it took to raise a human. But what you did in there..."

"Don't mention it," Lyra said quietly. "I just did what I thought any person should do. He needed someone to help him, and I stepped up."

"Lyra," Anita said, pressing onward. "I was wrong. I thought you didn't have the same moral compass as a human, but you proved me wrong. I mean, I broke down, I didn't know what to do. But you... you handled everything with a level head."

The mare shrugged. "I was just doing it the way I was raised." But that was only the partial truth, for it had not been her mother or her father who had comforted her just like she had comforted Aaron, it had been Bonbon. Bonbon had held her closely, whispering to her that everything was alright when she would awaken at night, screaming as she saw the fanged face of the changeling queen dominating her mind and ripping away her power of choice. Using her as a puppet to accomplish tasks of an evil ilk which Lyra could never let herself live down.

It had been sympathy that drove Lyra to risk her own safety by jumping in to calm the tempestuous soul of the mage.

"Just... did what needed to be done."

A silence fell over the table, and Anita peered down into the depths of her mug of tea, anxiously tapping a finger on the table. She didn't drink from her glass, instead the woman seemed to be having some kind of clash of interests within her head. Lyra could only speculate what thoughts were racing through her mind.

"Lyra?"

The sudden break of silence surprised the mare, and she looked up from her drink. "Yeah?"

"Earlier tonight, it felt like you were working your way to a point. It felt like you wanted to ask me something."

Lyra shook her head, her eyes drifting back down to her tea. "No, it's... nothing. I shouldn't have tried to use you like that."

"No, I wanna know, what did you want to ask me?" Anita asked.

Lyra sighed loudly. "You know who I am, and you know what I stand for in court. I want to adopt that girl down in the hospital."

"The Appleton girl," Anita murmured under her breath, knowing exactly who Lyra was talking about, the little brown-haired mage baby in the hospital nursery, a child who was weeks older than all the nursery's other occupants. And with the rampant suspicion and paranoia of even the most minor show of magic, it didn't seem like she was going anywhere soon.

"Yeah. I saw her, I felt her mind and her magic, and I knew that she needed a parent just as much as I needed a child. I knew that what I am shouldn't matter when the life and happiness of a child is on the line. I knew you came to Ponyville to inspect the Coppell's home, to see if Equestria could fulfill every want and need that a human could ever ask for. I wanted to ask you if you would give your official report before the Justices. To tell them what you knew about Equestria being safe for a human child."

"Jesus," Anita whispered. She took a deep breath, taking her head into her hands looking down at the table.

After being around humans for so long, Lyra knew that invoking that name was some kind of expression of shock. "I know, that's why I didn't ask you. I like you, Anita. I want to be your friend, and Aaron told me that if you did that, you'd be putting your job and life on the line for something that you didn't even believe in-"

"I'll do it," Anita said quietly, interrupting Lyra in the middle of her apology. Looking up from the table, she stared Lyra right in the eye. "I'll testify."

Lyra sat dumbfounded. "But.. why? Earlier you said that a pony was too different from a human!"

"I was wrong. When Aaron started thrashing around in his sleep, screaming at the top of his lungs, I thought I couldn't do anything to help him. Before I even tried to help, I gave up on trying to help him. Look at me, a woman in her prime, a person who is expected to become a mother within a few years, and I even want to have children, and I froze up when my boyfriend started having nightmares. But you, you just leaped right in. You knew what to do. And... and I'm starting to think to myself, that you'll be a better mom than I ever will. Besides, you did me a great favor back there, and did god-knows how big of a favor for Aaron."

She was stunned and absolutely slack jawed. She had not expected this kind of conversion from Ms Cook, and she stood from her chair, walking down the hall to the door on the end and into the study. Without even crossing the threshold, she whisked a pink subpoena form from her recently acquired attache case, and brought it back to the kitchen table.

"I just need you to fill out this form, and show up on the date listed." Anita nodded, scribbling down her name and identification information. "Anita," Lyra said as the woman wrote her flowing signature at the bottom of the page. "Thank you for this."

The woman cracked a slight smile as she put down the finishing touches. "Good night, Lyra." Setting her pen down, Ms Cook stood from her seat, walking towards the living room where she would sleep for the remainder of the night. 

The mare smiled. "Good night, Anita."

But before she rounded the corner into the living room, Anita stopped herself. "Lyra, could I ask you a question?" Stopping herself at the foot of the stairs, Lyra nodded once. "Does... does the word "Lucifer" mean anything to you? Does it mean something in Equestria?"

At the mention of that name, a chill passed over the unicorn's heart. And even though she did not know the reason why, she felt as though the spirits within the house shivered at the barest utterance of that most accursed of names. Like a shadow of evil itself passed over the house. "No, I've never heard it before. Why do you ask?"

"Because Aaron was screaming that name, over and over again in his sleep."


*****************************************


The night passed without so much as a peep from the nightmare-prone magi, but Lyra couldn't help but stay awake, tossing and turning in her bed, considering what a stroke of good luck it had been to gain Ms Cook's testimonial through such a convenient manner. The thought plagued her all night long; was Aaron's dream about his own inner demon just a coincidence, or were there far more powerful forces at work, pushing and prodding at the world to lay down the path for her? And even if it was just a stroke of chance, Lyra had to wonder why his celestial "friend" didn't step in and chase away his night terrors, as the people of Lazarus were saying she did.

Her long evening of thought and restlessness was interrupted right at dawn, just as the eastern sky began to turn the lightest shades of orange, by the sound of crashing and crunching outside the window. Rolling out of her bed and peeking out the window, she was surprised to see that Mr Patterson was up bright and early, despite her best efforts and the most advanced sleep spell that she knew. And by the look of it, he had just finished throwing away a perfectly good bathroom mirror.

Who knew, maybe he just had a sudden urge to redecorate.

There was no point in trying to rest now, and court would be in session in a few hours. Rearing up on her hind legs, Lyra worked to stretch out the muscles in her lower back. Bringing her forelegs together over her head, she tilted back her head and forelegs, feeling the tired and tensed muscles in her back and her belly argue with each inch that she leaned backwards. Finally reaching the limit of the narrow margin of balance that her hooves would allow, she held that pose for a few moments, then leaned forward and dropped back to all fours.

Lifting up her left-rear leg, she stretched that out, holding it parallel to the floor for a few moments, then letting it go. She repeated this process with every limb in her arsenal until she was as limber as a dancer. It would be important to have good blood-flow today, since she hadn't slept properly in weeks, and last night's almost complete lack would have her yawning during possibly critical arguments.

She made her way downstairs, wanting to grab a bagel or something before beginning her day anew. But to her annoyance, all the bagels seemed to have disappeared, and she settled for a piece of toast with a little bit of butter. After the slight taint of meat in her system from last night combined with the half-bottle of wine that she shared with Anita, Lyra would need something light on her stomach this morning.

Trotting down the hall to her study, she carelessly tossed open the door, just wanting to grab her briefcase and head out for the day. But as soon as the door slammed into the wall, she instantly regretted it, for her office was being occupied by the man who truly owned it.

Aaron was seated on top of his desk, legs folded underneath himself, facing out the tall window towards the rising sun in the east. His back was to the mare, but she knew that he was fully aware that Lyra was in the room.

"Uh, sorry to disturb you. I'm just gonna grab my stuff and... get outta your hair."

She snuck as quietly as her hooves would allow to the desk, grabbing up her notes, her forms, and her attache case with her teeth, lest she interrupt some kind of magic spell that Aaron was working.

Creeping back towards the door, she almost made it to safety at the threshold.

"Lyra?" the man's voice said to her.

Dropping her stuff on the floor, she turned slowly to face him. "Yes?" she said, wondering what crime she was guilty of this time.

Aaron stood from his seat and his meditations, and he walked over to the mare, dropping to a knee before her. For the first time in her life, Lyra had to look down to see eye to eye with a human being, and the feeling was making her uncomfortable.

"I know that I haven't been the greatest person in the world to be around. I know I haven't been the most supportive friend, and at times it seems like I've been trying to tear you down. And... I'm sorry. I'm sorry for telling you that your dreams were foolish, I'm sorry for not standing by your side when Bonbon left you, I'm sorry for being a jerk when you wanted to talk to Anita. And... and I wanted to say thank you for being a better person than I am, for being a better friend to me when I needed it."

Unexpectedly, the man leaned forward, wrapping his arms gently around the mare in a warm embrace. "Thank you," he whispered to her.

A warm feeling spread through Lyra's heart, and she reached up with her foreleg, returning his surprise hug with just as much tenderness and appreciation. "It's what friends do," she whispered back.

And as she stood there, a foreleg wrapped around the man's shoulders, she wondered how well today would turn out, considering the way all the pieces had fallen into place for her today.

Of course, the mightiest giant always fell the hardest.

> All is Fair in Love and War
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was going to be a good day in court.

Aaron had walked with her all the way to the courthouse, and this time, instead of walking away at the door, he accepted the doorman's conditions for entering, and took a seat in the gallery. Ms Cook arrived a few minutes later, taking a place in the gallery next to her boyfriend, a copy of her subpoena in hand as well as a note of excuse from her employer.

There were still a few minutes before today's session of the Supreme Court would begin, and Lyra's smug confidence was slightly dampened by a similar look on her opponent's face. In contrast of her own rather shabby and tired appearance, Attorney General David Bennett looked refreshed and confident. He peered over his rather sharp-looking reading glasses, smirking over at the mare and giving her a polite wave. 

Scowling at the man and wondering what trump he thought he had up his sleeve, Lyra barely gave him a tilt of her head in acknowledgement.

A few minutes later, the bailiff began the proceedings. "All rise for the honorable Chief Justice Abigail Haliburton and the Associate Justices."

Everyone in the gallery, human and pony, reporter and casual observer, support and opposition, stood at the bailiff's command. Just like they had in every recent convention of court, the nine Justices filed into their bench, the stoic Chief Justice leading their small column. Taking their respective seats, Chief Justice Haliburton nodded to the bailiff.

"Be seated." The crowd in the gallery did so, following the suit of both Lyra and Mr Bennett. "God save the Republic of Terra and this honorable court, may he bless us with swift, righteous judgement."

Shifting a few papers from the stack in front of her, Chief Justice Haliburton cleared her throat. "Thank you, bailiff. We shall continue to hear argument this morning in case number one of the Terran judiciary, Lyra Heartstrings v. Republic of Terra. Mrs Heartstring, you may begin."

Lyra stood from her desk, tapping the edge of a stack of papers to even them out. "Madam Chief Justice, Associate Justices," she peeked over to her opponent at his desk, "Mr Bennett. Good morning to you all, and I hope you slept better than I did last night."

A small chorus of chuckles arose from the gallery, and was quickly silenced by the cold stare of the Chief Justice. Clearing her throat loudly, Lyra tried to hold the attention of the panel of Justices. "These past few days, my argument has deviated away from the original petitioned cause to address what I believe to be the larger problem in this country: the lack of equal social rights for all thinking peoples. But with today's argument, I wish to stray back a little closer to the central point that I tried to make on the first day of court. The idea that though our individual races may seem so different on the outside, but at a fundamental level we share so many similarities that there should be no bars between our societies, that there should be no barriers based simply on the idea that we are different. That because I walk on four legs and that you walk on two, I cannot morally and ethically raise one of your children as my own."

Lyra stopped, grasping a waiting glass of water from the desk with her magic and taking a quick sip. 

"If we remove the idea that it is a deep seated grudge that the humans of the Republic hold against many of the creatures that prevents a peaceful integration of our peoples into a single harmonious and loving society, then all I'm left with is the physical and moral differences that separate humans and ponies."

"That would be the point, Mrs Heartstrings," Justice Dailey said, interrupting her speech. "Republic Social Services denied you the right to adopt a human child based on their interpretation of the Guardian Clause of the Constitution. You, and in this case any creature in the Republic or our allied states, cannot be trusted with one of our children based simply on the idea that your physical characteristics have no correlation to those of a human being! Your diet cannot accommodate the nutritional needs of a human, your physical handicaps," he leaned over the desk, pointing directly at her hooves, "would prove to be hugely detrimental in the care of a human, and your very body itself poses a threat to a fragile human. One wrong step, and her foot is broken under your hoof. One bad bump while rough-housing with pony children her age, and that's a whole set of broken bones. And don't get me started on the lack of decency in your society," Justice Dailey said, his eye drifting toward's Lyra's naked flank with disgust.

Each little prod and jibe at her "handicaps" and her "lack of decency" made that familiar fire in her belly burn a few degrees hotter. A hoof was no handicap! And ponies were gentle creatures, there was almost never any physical brutality in their childhood games! And since when was a lack of pants considered indecent?!

"Keep it together, don't let him get under your skin," came a whisper from her earring. Holding back her growing anger, Lyra took a deep breath, thinking about the possible consequences of another angered outburst on the courtroom floor. She regained her composure, quenching the growing flames in her belly with a few deep breaths. But her silence had not gone unnoticed, and the whole court waited expectantly for her to say something. "Alright," Mr Darrow said. "Now, finish your thought, and pull out the subpoena."

The mare complied, reaching out with her magical touch to open her attache case and bring out her signed subpoena. Peering back over her shoulder, Lyra sought out Ms Cook in the crowd, quickly spying her next to Mr Patterson as he lounged in a bored manner, even though court had been in session less than five minutes. Giving her a nod, Lyra turned back to the row of Justices, using her telekinetic grip on her subpoena to place it on the Chief Justice's docket. 

"Madam Chief Justice, at this time I would like to refute Associate Justice Dailey's commentary and call Ms Anita Cook to the stand for testimony." Her words carried no small amount of venom at the Associate Justice's repeated insults, innocent though they seemed. 

The platinum-haired social worker stood from her seat in the gallery, carefully picked her way through the aisle, and finally arrived at the petitioner's desk with her briefcase in hand. The soldier-playing-bailiff approached with his ratty bible at the ready, and he presented it for Ms Cook. She lay her hand upon the cover, and raised her opposite hand. 

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"I swear," Anita replied, and the bailiff tucked away his bible and retreated back to his post in the corner.

Quickly scanning over Lyra's latest subpoena, the Chief Justice nodded to herself, filing away the subpoena into her docket folder, and addressing Ms Cook. "Please state your name for the courtroom records."

Anita swallowed an anxious lump in her throat. "Anita Catherine Cook, specialist in early childhood welfare and care with the Republic of Terra's Department of Social Services."

The subpoena, signed with the social worker's own signature, passed by each Justice. And one by one, they examined the form to make sure it was properly filled out, and to ascertain the nature of her testimonial before she truly began. With Lyra's propensity for pulling rather curious information out of the air, they felt as though they should at least have an inkling of what she was throwing at them.

"Ms Cook," Justice Marcos said, breaking the silence, "You may begin your testimonial."

Anita cleared her throat one more time, swallowing down all the apprehension. "Thank you sir. Um, er, a few weeks ago, a bill was passed by the Terran Senate, bill number, um," she stopped for a moment, digging through her briefcase and seeking out the proper papers from her myriad files. "Here it is. Senate bill number 36, concerning the emigration of human beings out from the borders of Terra to allied states. This bill was enacted as a sort of early census, meaning that each and every migrant individual or family had to have their new homes thoroughly inspected by government officials to ascertain their fitness to harbor a human family. More specifically, their fitness to harbor human children. This was um, this was meant to curtail the... the uh, the effects of..."

Anita was choking. All around her were people that were judging her, glaring right at her with malice because she was taking the side of an inhuman creature that had threatened the stability of the very country they had all worked so hard to build. Lyra could see the obvious amount of stress rolling off of her, and she placed a hoof onto her friend's shoulder. "You're alright. Just take a deep breath."

The social worker closed her eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath to calm her nerves. 

"This... this bill was passed to assess the mental and physical health and safety of any humans separate from the main body of our population and insure the well-being of any human being living in a non-human culture. Sixteen families overall have migrated away from officially sanctioned human settlements or colonies; twelve of which now reside in Equestria, and the remaining four families have made homesteads in the territory of our neighbors, the bison. I um, I was assigned by Republic Social Services to assess the... the uh, living conditions and the suitability for human habitation in Equestrian district seven, also known as the township of Ponyville."

"Ponyville," Justice Sikes said with a snicker. "Quite an... imaginative name for a town full of horses." The sarcasm in her voice put every pony in the gallery on edge. Sure, only a tiny fraction of a percent of the ponies of Lazarus came from Ponyville or parts nearby. In fact, the first settlers came from the nearest pony townships of Appaloosa and Dodge Junction, while the bulk of the equine immigrants haled from metropolises like Manehattan and Fillydelphia. A few even came from the unincorporated and wild western coast, from towns like Tall Trees and Hollow Shades. There were even a few rumored to have the hardy stock of the far northern frontier settlements of Snowreach in their blood.

Even a hearty population of donkeys and their close relatives, the mules, called Lazarus their home. But it was not the denigration of Ponyville in particular that seemed to rile their spirits, it was the attitude with which Justice Sikes continually demeaned their cultures as non-humans. 

Lyra narrowed her eyes in anger at the demeaning of the small hamlet in the country that had become her home. Sure, it didn't have the most inventive name, but that did not say anything about the town as a whole.

Anita nervously cleared her throat once more, tapping her stack of papers to even them out and hopefully break just a little bit of the giant block of ice that was forming in her stomach. "As I was saying, your honor, I was sent by the Terran Department of Social Services to do a formal inspection of the township of Ponyville. I, um, I made the trip by helicopter, and was safely deposited in the town proper, where I met with the family that my particular case concerned: the family of Frederick and Sara Coppell, and their young daughter, Sophia."

"Ah yes," Justice Lanning said aloud. "First family to leave Lazarus, if I'm correct."

"First family to follow some crackpot's advice and jump into the horse stables, you mean," Justice Dailey murmured to himself. Justice Lanning shot him an annoyed scowl for his feeble attempt to correct her and overshadow her fact with his opinion.

"How about you keep your patronizing crap to yourself, Chris," the liberal Justice whispered acidly, only the people at the front desks even catching the slightest hint of it. The few people who knew Nora Lanning personally knew about her almost fanatical respect for Dr Patterson and his exploits, and anyone who tried to tarnish the ambassador was subject to a tongue lashing and the Justice's ire.

The divide between the liberal and conservative Justices was growing, and it would be harder than ever to persuade the conservatives that Lyra had marked as near-moderates to make the leap across that growing gap and join with the bloc of Justices she had slated as the most likely supporters of her cause. Maybe it was the sudden severity of the case with the growing movement outside reaching critical mass, maybe it was the natural enmity between their separate political ideologies, but whatever it was, the Justices seemed more on edge than usual.

Chief Justice Halliburton cleared her throat loudly, glaring at the embittered and verbally sparring Associate Justices. "Ms Cook, please continue with your testimonial," she said, trying to get it all back on track.

"Yes ma'am," Anita said with a quick and nervous nod. "Since my transportation situation was difficult, I was stuck in Ponyville for an entire week. Since it only takes a day or two to do the minimally required investigation, I decided to do a full case file on the entire town and its suitability for human habitation."

"And what were your findings, Ms Cook?" asked Justice Watson, breaking her typical silence. Social work and family psychology had been an interest of hers when she was younger, before the calling of law had dominated her university studies. Among the Justices, she would be the most likely to understand most of Ms Cook's terminology and the importance of certain key aspects.

"Where would you like me to begin?" Ms Cook asked in a manner that was much calmer and cooler after a few deep breaths. Her long fingernails picked through the literal hundreds of forms and documents in the thick and heavy file that she had compiled in her week-long investigation of Sophia Coppell's new home.

"Well, the obvious place to start would be basic physical health and welfare," Justice Watson replied.

Anita nodded, flicking through her thick file and coming to a portion that concerned the physical well-being of young Ms Coppell. "After the first few hours in my investigation case, I began to note that Sophia Coppell, the child in question, did not seem to be in any state of un-health. Her body, while still fairly small for a normal child her age, is well developed, and of a suitable weight for her size and age. There were no discernible bruises, lacerations, or injuries withstanding, with the exception of a few insect bite scars on her lower legs. This was attributed less to her equine neighbors, and more to the fact that she was living in a fairly rural home, where such marks are common. A quick review of her available dietary situation revealed a ready supply of fruits and vegetables, as well as protein heavy foods that a human child needs to develop properly. Mr Frederick Coppell subsequently reported that all of their food was bought locally from the daily market in town. A quick investigation revealed his assertion to be feasible, if not completely true. While the diet of a pony does include far more carbohydrates and even plant cellulose, their love of fruits and vegetables does provide more than enough nutritional variance for a human being."

Anita flipped her page on nutrition to the back of her report, trying to decide where to take this train of thought next. "Um... a thorough examination of the medical care of Ponyville was conducted, complete with a tour of the local hospital and examinations of Equestria's medical technology. I am afraid to say that it is one of the greater disappointments of my investigation, as Equestrian medical technology does seem to be rather primitive when compared to our own. However, this is only in a relative sense; the hospital I visited was capable of performing surgeries and operations of almost any difficulty and severity, short of open heart surgery. The doctor I spoke with assured me that gross anatomical differences would not be a barrier to the proper treatment of a human being in his facilities, as our microscopic anatomy shared enough similarities."

"And how would he know that?" Justice Sikes asked, interrupting Ms Cook. "Did he read a book on human anatomy? Did he dissect some poor man to learn just how he ticked?" Each and every word was laced with both skepticism and sarcasm, and the smirk on her face told everyone watching her that she believed Anita to be misrepresenting the truth before the court.

Shaking her head slowly, Anita dug through her files once more, her eyes darting back and forth, looking for a certain paper. "Here it is. Madam Justice, this is a copy of the hospital entry forms of a human citizen from Ponyville. He was treated with all the care that was necessary, and discharged with a clean bill of health. The hospital had no apparent difficulty with his differences as a human, and he was treated without any problems."

Justice Sikes narrowed her eyes, having been successfully called on her bluff. "Bailiff, bring me that document." The soldier complied, and the heavily conservative Justice scanned the hospital discharge forms with a less than professional eye. "Whose are these?"

"Those would be my papers, ma'am," Dr Patterson said from his slouched seat in the gallery. The glare of the Chief Justice struck him like a bullet, and the mage was honestly confused, unaware that he had broken court law and spoken out without a formally submitted subpoena or even being asked to. "What? I stepped on a nail, didn't want to get tetanus." That broke some of the tension, and a round of chuckles came from the gallery. 

"One more outburst from the gallery like that and you'll be on the sidewalk," Chief Justice Halliburton said coldly.

Dr Patterson zipped a finger over his lips, and the court shifted focus back towards the petitioner's desk and Ms Cook. However, Justice Lanning did seem a little awestruck that one of her idols was so lazily lounging in her courtroom. This would be a day that she would be hard pressed to ever forget.

"Ahem," Anita grumbled, clearing her throat once more and getting back on task. "After the preliminary investigation into healthcare and the local food industry, I took the liberty of doing a full-scale investigation into Equestria's -or at least Ponyville's- education system. It does appear to be similar to twenty-first century educational systems: it is government funded; the classes are divided by primary, secondary, and collegiate; and the lesson plan scales as they age. I sat in on a few young children's classes, and I was astonished. The mare who taught the students was extremely competent, and the lesson plan was incredibly... advanced." That seemed to be the only thing she could say.

"How so?" asked Justice Brockmann.

Anita pushed her glasses back up her nose, and she dove right back into her thick file. "Well, I just want to make this clear right now: these were pony foals at the equivalent of the first or second grade in the old American public school system. But they were being taught what looked like basic algebra and reading from books that we would normally associate at a middle-school reading level! Heck, if I was a kid there, I could have gotten a scholarship to some Ivy League university by the age of fourteen." The social worker cracked a weak smile, trying to laugh a little to ease her nervousness.

"Good, she's making jokes," a voice whispered to Lyra's ear. "She's getting comfortable."

"I know, now we're gonna start going places," she discreetly whispered back. "Maybe this will be all we need to win this."

"Don't get cocky, it's never a sure thing."

For the next ten or so minutes, Anita Cook regaled the court with her extensive report on the township of Ponyville and its human residents. She covered all the bases, everything from the public education system, advanced medicine, little Ms Sophie's level of mental and emotional development when compared to a "normal" human child (one raised exclusively in a human environment), which of course was normal for her age. All the while, the Justices listened as well as they could, with Justice Watson filling in the blanks for those who were too far out of their own professional zone to ask a question. 

And with each little mote of information and each passing minute, Anita seemed to gain more confidence on the courtroom floor, repeating her full report of Ponyville with increasing gusto. She knew she had stepped off the deep end, that forever more she would be seen in public as one who had cast her lot in with the creatures that had menaced humanity centuries ago. But she had made a promise, a promise to repay the debt that she had found herself in with Lyra. But it was more than that, the mare was her friend, and Anita wanted to help her friend in her hour of greatest need.

"To conclude," she said loudly, signalling the end of what seemed like the most in depth investigation by a caseworker into her case. "Though I would have preferred a much more long-term stay in which to conduct a more complete investigation, the township of Ponyville, as well as a sizable portion of its inhabitants, pass Republic Social Services standards for early childhood welfare. In most categories, they actually pass the minimum requirement mark, and are actually rather... exemplary. Not only does pony society pass every category that Republic Social Services judges on, but in some places they do better than the typical human case that we see."

Ms Cook finished her testimonial, snapping shut her folder with a confident and victorious smile. She had done all she could, and now it was time to step down and let Lyra deal the coup de grace with her oratory that was quickly becoming rather infamous in the streets of Lazarus.

Lyra stood from her seat, rearing up on her hindlegs, folding her forelegs behind her back and pacing in front of the Justice's bench. 

"So, over the past few minutes, we've been regaled with an official report, conducted and presented by a government official entrusted by the very highest powers of this nation's leadership with the judgement and protection of the welfare of this nation's children, that seems to back my claim wholeheartedly. There is now legal proof that Equestrian society, and its people, pose no physical threat to the wellbeing of a child, no threat to the direction of their moral compass, and that our system of education and welfare is actually beneficial to the development of a human child! So, about those barriers of difference..." she said smugly. "Madam Chief Justice, I rest for the day."

The Justices murmured to one another, Justice Watson seeming to be the one most affected by this testimonial, eagerly whispering to her compatriots, having firmly been convinced that there were no true barriers between the races other than emotional apprehension.

"Respondent, you may begin your argument at this time," Chief justice Haliburton said to Mr Bennett.

David Bennett stood from his chair smoothly, a confident and cool smile on his face, one that unnerved Lyra to her core. The way he glanced towards her, with his air of chilling and nerve-wracking smugness, even put the ghost in her ear on edge. 

"Good morning, Justices of the Supreme Court. Good morning, people of Lazarus. And to you, Lyra, a most special good morning." 

The Attorney General of the Republic of Terra paced up in front of the row of Justices. "I would like to congratulate Mrs Heartstrings on accomplishing something that not many have done before. You see, I am an arbiter of law, what is written is my dogma, and I shall defend that written law until my dying breath. But Mrs Heartstrings here has touched my heart, and opened my eyes. Lyra, I would like to thank you for changing my perceptions, for drawing aside the veil of uncertainty that was cast over my heart." The Attorney General turned to his opponent, giving and honest and sincere look of appreciation, holding his ringed hand over his heart. But behind that facade brewed something sinister.

"No," Mr Darrow whispered to the mare. "He's praising you. Shit! He's up to something!"

"And what is this "veil of uncertainty" that you claim she removed?" asked Justice Sikes.

Bennett turned back to the Justices. "Of course. Mrs Heartstrings has opened my eyes to the true definition of family. That even though physical differences may cast their shadows of doubt upon the bonds of family, family is what you make it. I have no doubt anymore that perhaps a pony can raise a human, or a human may raise a pony, for it is who we love that truly matters, isn't it, Lyra?" the man said, peering over his shoulder at his now trembling opponent. "Madam Chief Justice, I request permission to cross-examine the petitioner."

Chief Justice Haliburton raised her eyebrow, for this was an uncommon request, even back in the old days. The petitioner and the respondent never openly asked questions to one another. But, she could see no reason why she shouldn't grant the respondent's request.

"Granted, Mr Bennett."

Bennett smiled warmly, then turned his gaze in an almost predatory fashion towards the increasingly uncomfortable mare. "Lyra," he said with almost a chuckle to his voice. "Lyra, Lyra, Lyra. You've changed me. I'll admit, I didn't think one of your kind had the panache to handle raising one of ours, but you've got the fighting spirit of a proud young woman in you."

"What are you up to?" Lyra hissed under her breath.

Bennett just smiled, and continued with his little soliloquy. "Family. That's what you are offering to Ms Appleton. A stable home, happiness, a future, a loving mother and father. You're gonna give her all of it. Except, I have one question for you, Lyra: Where is the father figure in your theoretical family? Where is Mr Heartstrings?"

"M-m-m-mister?" she stuttered, her eyes going wide.

"Yes, Mr Heartstrings," Mr Bennett reiterated. "After all, you do claim to be a "Mrs" Heartstrings, and we have yet to see the stallion of your relationship here in court. Considering, back in the old days, the man of the relationship would be the most likely one to go before the court of law to fight for his family's rights. But where, o' where, is Mr Heartstrings?"

The whole court found itself pondering that very question. Many of these people had been coming to the convention of court since the day that it hit the newspapers, and not once had they seen a stallion claiming to be her husband. Every Justice leaned forward, anxious to hear the answer to this rather pervading question.

Bennett leaned on Lyra's desk, lording over her and intimidating her with his superior height and posture. "His absence has been so marked, and you have failed to even mention Mr Heartstrings, so I have come to question his legitimacy in your marriage! Tell me Lyra, where is he? Are you a widow? Is your husband on active military duty? Is he back at the ol' homestead, running the family business? Or have you been withholding information from us?"

A quick tap of the gavel brought everyone's attention to the front, and Chief Justice Haliburton seemed to have broken her normal stoicism in favor of a curious stare. "Mr Bennett, are you claiming that Lyra has presented fraudulent information before the court?" 

If that was so, then there would be no more case. If Lyra had lied in the smallest way about her petition, or about who she was, then it would be a mistrial, and the laws of double jeopardy would prevent her from bringing her case back to the Supreme Court.

"Not at all, Madam Chief Justice," Bennett calmly replied. He turned back to Lyra. "So, where is your husband?"

"Don't answer that question!" Clarence shouted in her ear. 

But in spite of herself, and under the accusing stares of the entire courtroom, she had to answer. "There... there is no Mr Heartstrings." A collective gasp escaped from the crowd, and a hundred whispers erupted. 

"However," Mr Bennett declared loudly, whipping out a very official appearing form from his briefcase, "we do have two listings in the Bureau of Citizenship and Immigration Services for "Mrs Heartstrings". Is this a common surname in Equestria, or would you happen to know the identity of this "Bonbon Heartstrings"?"

"I... I do." Her heart grew cold, and a wellspring of tears threatened to spring from her eyes at the mention of Bonbon. And worse, how her most beloved's name was being used against her.

Bennett leaned down very close to Lyra. "And who is she?" he asked, almost in a comforting and confiding voice.

"My... my wife," she whispered. The world was growing darker by the second, and she could feel the dumbfounded and accusing stares of every man and woman in the courtroom bearing down on her.

David leaned back up, turning to face the Justices. "Her wife. Lyra Hearstrings is indeed a "Mrs", but not to a stallion. Lyra Heartstrings... is a homosexual."

The courtroom remained silent, every man and woman, mare and stallion seemed to hold their breath. 

"Is... is this true, Lyra? Are you a homosexual?" Justice Lanning said, breaking the silence.

Instead of demurely answering that she had never found an attraction to males of any species, a familiar flame lit in her belly, and she stood from her seat, front hooves planted on her desk and a fire in her eye.

"What does it matter! I love my wife more than I love life itself! She was everything to me, she was the mare who saved me from myself more times than I can count! What does it matter who I choose to love!?"

"Because," David replied from his desk, holding a piece of paper in his hand. "Gay marriage is illegal in the Republic." He slapped down a copy of a senatorial bill down on the table in front of her. After that, the Attorney General became frenzied. "Senate bill number 23, the Marriage Rights Act! Any couplings that are homosexual or deviate in nature are expressly prohibited in the interest of increasing the human population and securing our sanctity as a species! It may be legal in Equestria, but here in the Republic, you signed away your family rights once you wrote your name on that immigration form. Once you became a citizen, your marriage was legally annulled by Terran law, and your rights to pursue the adoption of a child were forfeited! Oh yes, you may maintain your legal union on Equestrian soil, and you can still tack "Mrs" onto your name, but your claim to the right to adoption was null from the beginning. Madam Chief Justice, I rest for the duration!" He slapped the copy of the Senate bill down on his desk, and breathed heavily in lieu of his presentation of such damning evidence.

For Lyra, all her life seemed to be reflected in her mind, each little memory and detail leading up to this defeat at the hands of Bennett. It all seemed to shatter before her eyes, and how it had all worked against her was evident. Her love for Bonbon had prevented her from becoming a family, her determination had brought foolish and false hope to thousands of creatures in this city, her fascination with humans had brought turmoil to their nation, and there was nothing left in her life that could save her.

Without even letting the bailiff give the closing, or waiting for Chief Justice Haliburton to call for the court meeting to be adjourned, Lyra barreled down the aisle, running through the open front door. And all the while, her head was hung low, and her passage was marked by a trail of tears.

And all through the gallery, supporters of Lyra's cause, and even a few of those who had been on the fence glared at David Bennett. He had broken Lyra in the cruelest way, and even he seemed to hold some pity and regret in his expression for what he had just done. 

A few minutes later, after court had been adjourned and everyone dismissed for the day, Bennett walked alone down the streets of Lazarus, silently cursing himself for what he had done in court today. 

"How do you sleep at night?" a man's voice said to him. Bennett stopped, and turned around to face the stranger. To his surprise, Lyra's close friend and one of Lazarus's most famous faces leaned against a wall in an alleyway, seeming to be in the perfect spot to ambush a passerby like himself.

"Like anyone else does these days," Bennett replied, setting himself firm and not letting the reputation of the first human spellcaster wilt him like it apparently did to so many others. In truth, he slept with the fear of nightmares always on the edge of his mind, the pain of guilt and loss from the harsh days near the end of the War weighing down on him.

Patterson snorted, leaning up from his spot and walking a few steps closer to the Attorney General. "Is breaking lives and dreams really what you do? Is that who you are inside, the cold and merciless creature that all the old stereotypes say that lawyers are?"

Bennett gripped his briefcase handle all the tighter. "Some people say that business is war. Most of those types have never been on the courtroom floor. Out there, it's a goddamned battlefield. And the only way to survive is to do everything you can to win."

Aaron narrowed his eyes, and Bennett felt the tingle of magic in the air. "And do you think that what you did today was a good strategy? What you did today reminded me of General Sherman, who burned down half the South on his march to the sea."

Bennett felt goosebumps rise on his skin, and he took an involuntary step back. "Look, I'm just doing my goddamned job! If you were in my shoes, you'd do the same damn thing!"

The magi did not argue that logic, and he sighed, turning back to the alleyway and disappearing.

Bennett ran a hand through his hair, wondering if dropping that bomb today had been more of a war crime than a commendable strategy.


*********************************************************


For the first time in several days, Lyra found herself in need of the stiffest, hardest drink that dollars or bits could buy in Lazarus. She meandered through the streets, containing her sniffles and her woes, ignoring the comforts and the pleas of the ghost in her earring. Wanting nothing but to be away from politics and law for a few minutes, she told him to go back to the house, and for him to start thinking of a good withdrawal speech. Unlike the times before, her restless hooves drifted her towards the shabbier part of town where all the ponies built their businesses and their homes. She had one thing on her mind, and that was getting a hard drink before going back home.

Of course, the Watering Hole had seen many more visitors lately than it had in past days, what with it being the center and the staging point of the great creature civil movement, and Lyra was not surprised when she walked into the door to see the place bustling with customers and activists. 

At first, many of the creatures looked to the new arrival with a spark of recognition and joy in their eyes. Seeing Lyra, the mare who stood up against such unlawful oppression and challenged the government of one of the most intimidating nations on Earth always lifted their spirits. But when they saw the look on her face, a look of despair and defeat, they knew something to be horribly wrong.

Lyra took a seat at the bar, her head hung low. The bartender, High Spirits, the stallion who had so selflessly offered his establishment as the headquarters and jump point for all of the hundreds of little operations, protests, and in the past few days it had even come to serve as the union hall of the First United Steelworkers Union, did his normal duties of wiping down the shabby bar top with his ratty rag. Hell, high water, or cultural struggles between species, he still had to keep the place presentably clean.

Noticing the figurehead of the civil movement at his bar, High Spirits threw on his best grin, grabbing his cleanest glass, filling it up with a cool beer, and placing it down in front of the melancholy mare. 

"Lyra, good to see you. We haven't seen you in the last couple days, we've been gettin' a bit worried about ye."

The minty unicorn didn't say a word, but she telekinetically pulled her glass closer and took a quiet sip.

High Spirits always knew when something was wrong with one of his patrons, it was just a part of his job as a good barkeep. Over the years he had learned to detect the subliminal signs and tells in a pony's facial expression, their body language, their voice, and anything that could display what kind of a depression they were in. After all, some ponies took their problems to a psychiatrist, others just went to the local pub and drowned their sorrows.

And seeing her downcast eyes, her slumped shoulders, and gauging her silence as being abnormal for the normally outspoken mare, he knew that something was horrifically wrong. 

"There, uh... there is something wrong, isn't there?" Lyra refused to say another word, and her silence began to spread across the bar as more ponies and other creatures took note of her melancholy. Each one leaned closer to the mare, dreading to know what could rip her down like this.

"Lyra?" The form of a familiar pegasus mare filled the stool, and Honey Cup placed a comforting hoof on the unicorn's shoulder. "Darling, what is the matter?" the eloquent actress asked.

The unicorn closed her eyes and took a breath, swallowing down her trepidation. "I... I lost. I lost the case."

"Wh-what?" Honey Cup stuttered, losing her normal cool. "What do you mean 'you lost'?"

Lyra took another moment to gather herself. "Bennett gave evidence that nullified my whole case. The next time court is in session, they're going to call a mistrial."

"What does that mean?" High Spirits asked, his curiosity laced with no small amount of dread and fear.

"It means that after today, there will be technical precedent concerning the rights of ponies in Lazarus. Any time a pony or other creature tries to bring their case to court, all the defendant has to do is quote "Lyra Heartstrings v. Republic of Terra", and the case will be over," said a young man's voice. Their private conversation was interrupted by the only human in the bar, and Jimmy Howell laid his hand gently on Lyra's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Lyra swallowed hard, looking at the young man's hand with sorrow and regret in her eyes. "No, I should be apologizing to you. I should be apologizing to every last one of your people for doing this to your nation. I failed ponykind, and I hurt humanity doing it! I hurt everyone I'll ever know, all because I love a mare!"

The unicorn stood from her stool, running back towards the door. But before she left, she turned back to all the assembled creatures, creatures that had looked up to her and admired her for giving them the courage they needed to lift themselves out from underneath the scornful eye and the weighty boot of humankind. 

"It's over. Just go back to your homes and forget all about this! I screwed you all from the beginning, and now there's never going to be a chance for you all. All because of me. I'm sorry," she said once more, her tear choked voice tearing the heart and determination away from every creature in the room. And with that said, she turned and left. 

The leaders of the movement; Honey Cup, who had led the crowds with her voice and her passion; High Spirits, who had hosted and coordinated dozens, if not hundreds of small protests, sit-ins, boycotts and even small rallies; Jimmy, the young man who had gone against his own people and created the first labor union of the new human world, all sat together at the bar, having lost all of their hope with Lyra's defeat in court. 

"What do we do now?" Jimmy, the youngest of the group, asked his pony comrades.

"Nothin'," High Spirits replied, angrily slapping his rag down on the bar top and scrubbing at an invisible stain. "We do what Lyra said, and we just go back to our lives." His voice was calm, yet it carried no small amount of disappointment and shame at himself. And Jimmy could tell there was some anger in there too. Maybe it was anger at Lyra for giving up after suffering such a devastating blow, maybe it was against the human government that worked so hard to keep honest creatures like himself as second-class citizens. Maybe he was just angry at the world itself, promising so much to those who sowed their fields with hard work and determination, yet yielding such a poor crop of fairness.

"But we had a rally tomorrow. What are we gonna do about that?" Jimmy asked, refusing to just give up like High Spirits and Lyra had done. He had nothing to lose should the civil movement succeed or fail, being a human in a human nation, but he wanted this movement to come to fruition, if not for him then for the friends that he had made once he had opened his heart to the creatures that shared this nation with his own kind.

"Nothin'," the bartender growled again. 

Honey Cup had stayed silent, yet a storm was brewing within her. She had been the first to hear Lyra's plans for changing the Republic, and she had been among the most moved by such a prospect of a brighter and more beautiful future for every living person in this nation. She looked up from her glass of amber despair, a fire burning her eyes, so much like the fire of passion that some ponies said burned within Lyra's eyes whenever she spoke about her beliefs.

"No. We don't give up. We won't give up! If a theater gives their best performance, yet they are jeered away from the stage, they do not give up! They go back on stage and try even harder! A bad performance is only as bad as the ponies who give it! James," she said, turning to the young human, "would you simply wilt and die like a parched rose if your steel did not sell as well as you would like it? Or would you simply strive to make stronger metal, and stronger partners? High, if your bar was ravaged by flame, utterly immolated and burned to the ground, would you lie down in the ashes and let your dreams waste away? No! You would sweep away the dust and the debris, and you would rebuild this place with your own hooves, and you would make it grander, sturdier, and greater than ever before! But we are not a business nor a product, we are people! And our theater, our steel, our business is an idea! An idea that we are not so different, that we can rebuild that which has been ravaged by hatred and ignorance, and that idea can be shored to withstand the ravages of the storms of oppression and distrust!"

Honey grabbed her glass of whiskey, gulping it down in a most un-ladylike fashion (yet at a level of drama that was normal for the mare) and slamming her glass back down on the bar. She turned in her seat, seeing that the whole of the establishment had hung on her every word, and the flame that had burned in their eyes when Lyra spoke of freedom and equality began to spark once again. 

The pegasus smirked. "So whaddya say, boys? Are we gonna go home tonight and suck on our hooves til' we cry ourselves to sleep, or are we gonna go out there tomorrow and give this city one hell of a rally!"

"Hell, if we're gonna go down, might as well go down kickin' and screamin'!" High Spirits cheered, whipping out another glass and filling it with whiskey, holding it out for his comrades to toast.

Jimmy grinned, grabbing up his glass as well. "We may have lost one battle, but sure as shit ain't gonna lose the war!"
> Boiling Point
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bonbon frowned at her work. 

The poorly sewn darning was going to fray, she knew it. And it was in such an open spot, right in the middle of one of the couch cushions, where the near constant traffic of ponies that had come to console her in the past few days had worn through. And despite her best efforts, a little chunk of the cushion's padding poked through, an obvious testament to the futility of the custard mare's feeble attempt at trying a new stitch. She'd wanted to do a patch with a whipstitch, but no, Ms Rarity herself had said that a bit of darning with a dark green thread would hold better, prove tougher, and would look far more fabulous than just a patch, even if Bonbon just ended up flipping the cushion over.

Bonbon sighed. "If only..." She couldn't say the next words. She couldn't bring herself to say that this little project that had taken her well over four hours on her only real day off since she had come back could have been done in seconds, if only a certain unicorn had been there with a mending spell sparkling at the tip of her horn. 

The custard colored candymaker sniffled, gently dabbing at the corners of her eyes like she had done so much in the past few weeks. Her eyes drifted away from the poorly stitched cushion at her hooves and up towards the mantle. It was so empty now. Before, it had been sparsely populated at best, displaying a few photos from their wedding, one or two from their honeymoon, a few photos of the extended family, and even a gold-framed picture of Lyra in a silky black dress, standing on her hind legs with one hoof wrapped around the shoulder of her orchestral harp. 

Of course, her eyes were closed in that picture, but it didn't ruin the photo opportunity in any way. At that moment Lyra had been at her most natural, her most beautiful, her most rapturous. The way she held that harp in her hooves, so gently, so sweetly, so lovingly, reminded Bonbon so much of the way Lyra would hold her at the end of every day. And though she had always been the rougher of the pair, so much so that their friends said she was just one of "the guys", her embrace had always been gentle and warm. 

But now the mantle lay barren, cleaner than it had been in years. And Bonbon wanted nothing more than for that mantle to be cluttered, filled with memories and reminiscence of warm summer days spent in the park, of trips to the farthest places on the map, of parties and celebrations of the smallest things. Pictures of aunts and uncles, parents and in-laws, pictures of children...

"Hello?" a sugar-sweet voice chimed from the door. 

Tearing her eyes away from the mantle and trying to gain some kind of sociable composure, Bonbon managed to crack a small smile when she spied the one friend that had been there for her the most in these troubling times. A silly, most of the time cross-eyed mare who knew the pain of separation all too well, but never let it leave her with a frown.

"Can I come in?" Derpy asked.

Bonbon stifled a tiny chuckle. "Heh, you kinda already let yourself in."

"Oh," she quipped, her smile falling just a bit, then lighting right back up. "Okay then!" The bubble marked and bubbly mare seemed to leap across the gap that separated them, greeting Bonbon in the only way that could ever truly befit such a loving friend, and she wrapped her forelegs around Bonbon's shoulders in a bear hug that would impress most bruins. After a few moments, Bonbon managed to wriggle her way free, lest the pegasi's deceptively strong grip blow all the air from her lungs or crack one of the earth pony's ribs. 

"So, what do I owe the pleasure of this visit to?" asked the candymaker. Despite her melancholies, despite her guilt over leaving Lyra to fend for herself in a strange and foreign city, there was no sorrow that a strategic and liberal application of Derpy couldn't solve. The mare had taken her out for lunch and dinner a few times since she got back, just to get Bonbon out of the house and back into the public eye. Even if it was just an idiom, it was always a pleasure to see the local mailmare.

But despite her normally overwhelming bubbliness, there was something amiss with the grey pegasus today, and a thick newspaper poked out of her saddlebag. Bonbon frowned. There was normally a paper-colt that delivered the morning edition, Derpy just handled the post. She had been slightly overworked as of late, having been forced by the postal service to take on a new route that took her out to a small outpost several hours west of Ponyville as a part of a hybrid communication line between Canterlot and Lazarus. 

The bubble-marked mare's smile fell slightly. "Um, these are for you!" She dipped her muzzle into her saddlebag, whipping out a small brown paper bag that smelled absolutely delicious. It was most certainly a bag of muffins, blueberry by the mouthwatering scent of them, and Bonbon happily accepted the bag of pastries. 

"Wow, that's awful thoughtful of you. What's the occasion?" Bonbon replied, fishing a still-warm blueberry muffin from the depths of the sack and taking a tiny, polite nibble from the muffin's cap.

"Oh, um, nothing. Just thought I would bring you a smile!" Derpy put on a sheepish grin, and her eyes drifted downwards. Even the tip of her hoof rubbed anxiously on the floor. 

Bonbon swallowed her bite of muffin, and she started to become concerned. Derpy was many things; silly, a little clumsier than most ponies, extremely friendly, but she was by no means a good liar. She was not a good gambler, considering that she had more tells than most ponies had hairs in their mane.

"What's wrong?" Bonbon earnestly asked. Derpy squeezed her eyes shut, biting down on her lip. "Derpy, tell me what's wrong." The pegasus shook her head from side to side violently, as if the troubling secret that she was keeping was trying to free itself from its confines inside her head. 

Finally, she could bear the weight of it no longer, and she cracked, frantically spitting it all out. "My mom always told me to be honest about bad news! She told me give somepony something sweet to make the bitter news not so bad!" She waved her hoof towards the bag of muffins, covering her face in shame.

It was incredibly over-dramatized by any stretch, but Bonbon could tell that Derpy had the best intentions in mind when she walked in that door, bringing a bag of sweet treats to hopefully soften the blow of bad news. And judging by the fact that Miss Derpy had not taken the liberty of keeping one of her favorite pastries for herself could only mean troubling and possibly disastrous news.

Bonbon laid a hoof on Derpy's shoulder to console her. "Look, whatever it is can't be that bad. Now, calm down, and just tell me what's wrong."

Derpy pursed her lips tightly together, and she shook her head once again. But one look into Bonbon's eyes made her sigh, and she dipped her muzzle into the other saddlebag around her waist, retrieving the thick newspaper. Laying it down on the coffee table, Derpy shrank back from the paper like some ponies cowered from a big ugly spider or a snake.

Glancing from the mare to the paper and back, Bonbon slowly reached out, grasping up the newspaper in her hoof. Unfolding it, Bonbon focused her attention on the headline. And after reading a few lines in, her heart began to beat faster and faster. 

"Dozens of arrests... riots... warrants issued... city in chaos... several injured. Lyra Heartstrings confirmed as a homosexual... Supreme Court preparing to declare a mistrial." The paper fell from her hooves, and Bonbon felt a lance of shame poke straight into her heart. "She's losing. She was doing so well, and now she's going to lose because... because of... me."

Every emotion that she had managed to keep in check, every tear and every mote of self anger all spilled out at once. 

"It's all my fault. I-if I hadn't left her there alone, she wouldn't be in this mess! It's my fault that the humans are in such a mess with us! If I stayed, I could've talked her out of it, I could've convinced the court to drop the case. And now... people are hurt because of me. Don't you see, Derpy? It's all my fault!"

Streams of tears fell down her cheeks, and Bonbon felt a gentle, comforting hoof wrap around her shoulder. Feeling a level of gentleness that Derpy never normally showed, Bonbon buried her face in the pegasi's shoulder and wept.


*************************************************************



Earlier That Week


The sun beat down harshly on the small and blossoming Republic of Terra. The heat was almost intolerable, sending the mercury skyrocketing up the incline of every thermometer, and even the hardy plants of the nation drooped and wilted under the sun's relentless onslaught. With too few pegasus ponies to shift the clouds and not enough unicorns to cast weather-altering spells, the fledgling nation of the humans was fully subject to the harsh and brutal extremes of the often turbulent weather.

Most intelligent creatures would find a day this sweltering as a chance to hit the pool, or stay inside and find whatever fans they could, wishing for just a moment's respite from the heat, even thinking fondly of the cold months of winter that had been so difficult to survive in the Republic.

But the stern glare of the sun did not deter those who had something more than beating the heat on their minds. 

"Fellow citizens, friends, comrades, brethren! The time for ponies to lay their heads low and quietly accept the oppressive boot and the scornful glare of our fellow citizens is over!" the mare shouted from a atop a small stage that had been hastily erected that morning. All around her, hundreds, if not thousands of ponies and other creatures who called this city their home shaded their eyes and sweated enough to raise the ambient humidity. But they still wore smiles on their faces, and clapped and stomped for Honey Cup as she gave her usual stage spiel. 

Though the crowd was not roaring with cheers and applause, Honey nonetheless thrived off the minor claps and the occasional shout of agreement from the back of the crowd. Wearing her most dignified smile, the pegasus held her head high and strutted up and down the stage. "The time for passivity and humility shall come to an end, my comrades! Once, ponies may have been the bane of mankind, the creatures that haunted their dreams and destroyed their civilization. But that time is past! We are not those ponies, my fellows! We are not the warrior pegasi of old Cloudsdale that waged war on human soldiers, nor the noble unicorns of Canterlot that refused them aid when the monsters came to their villages, nor the humble earth ponies who would not share food and land with human neighbors! We are not our ancestors! We do not, and should not have to bear the burdens and the guilt that our forefathers laid upon us. But we shall strive every waking moment of every day to mend the wounds that our ancestors inflicted, and we will see the light of harmony flow freely throughout these streets, and the songs of love and friendship shall echo in the hills and the valleys!"

Her passionate speech did not rile the crowd like she would have preferred, but she could only expect so much in such temperamental weather. They had been wise to bring out several barrels of cold lemonade and water for anyone who wanted to come to the rally, she thought for a moment before launching back into her speech.

She wiped a bead of sweat away as it streamed down her face, and she also thought that the cold beverages were most likely the reason why many of these people had come.

But in the back of the crowd, a few people who acted behind the curtains with running the movement stayed under the shade of one of the Park's many oak trees, tallying numbers and running the roster as efficiently as they could. High Spirits clenched a pencil in his teeth, jotting down the numbers for posterity. After all, they wanted every juicy morsel of information to go down in history.

Working the pencil around in his teeth, he set it down on his pad of paper. "What's the attendance on the Creatures for a Better Terra?" he asked the young mare beside him.

"All three hundred members of the CBT accounted for, Mr Spirits," High's assistant for the day answered, giving him a complete member's roster for the association in charge of improving human-pony relations in the countryside. High quickly flipped through the roster, complete with its cover image of a stalk of corn with a handprint and a hoofprint in the ground beneath it. 

"And the HGA?"

The young mare flipped through her clipboard. "Yup, all thirty members of the Human-Gryphon Alliance are present, and they've even set up their own little rally spot, trying to recruit some humans into their organization."

High nodded. The gryphons of Lazarus were a fickle bunch, and it had been quite the small victory for the movement convincing them to form their own organization for civil advancement. After all, the gryphons of Lazarus were mostly uprooted peasants from Kali'Gryph, a land where agrarian feudalism still reigned. After that, Terra seemed like a land of abounding freedom in comparison.

And it was the small victories that would tip the scales towards the disenfranchised masses of the non-humans. Each friend made, every speech given, every petition sent towards the Senate, even if each one was almost immediately shot down, was a step in the right direction. A step towards equality and harmony. But it was a long road towards that destination, and High and his co-conspirators hoped that this rally would be a little shortcut on that route. 

"Heya, Mister Barkeep, almost didn't recognize you without a rag on your shoulder and a glass in your hoof!" 

High Spirits looked up from his notepad, cracking a bright smile when he saw Mr Jimmy Howell coming under the shade of the oak tree. Jimmy held a sign declaring him to be a proud member of the First United Steelworkers, and in his other hand a bottle of the coldest water he could find sweated profusely. And despite the temperature, the young man was wearing a jacket, a brand new acquisition in his wardrobe. One with the impromptu symbol of the First United Steelworkers stitched on the back, as well as a similar patch sewn onto his shoulder.

"Hey Howell, you got the numbers for you and your diamond dog buddies?" High Spirits asked the young human. 

Jimmy set down his sign and sat down against the trunk of the tree. "Just about everyone from the Stoneclaw pack is here except for a couple still picketing the Slagworks," he replied, unscrewing the cap of his drink. Jimmy took a deep drink from his water, and after wiping off the top, he offered it to his pony friend.

High gratefully accepted the bottle, taking a polite but quenching sip before passing the bottle back. "You know, if it wasn't such a scorcher, I'd say we're doin' pretty damn good."

"Yeah," Jimmy replied with a grin. "We got a full crowd, a good roster of speakers, a reporter from the Phoenix and a jockey from LPR are here. Hell, we even got a band to come and play. That is, we would have a band play if Honey would wrap it up already."

High chuckled. "Ah, give her her moment. A mare like her lives for the spotlight, and bein' the center of attention must be like feeding love to a changeling for her."

Jimmy leaned back against the trunk of the tree, folding his hands behind his head and taking in some of Honey Cup's self-written speech. 

"Hmph, half an hour up there and she hasn't said a word about the agenda yet. Just givin' her big speech like she was dying in a Shakespeare play. Don't get me wrong, I love Honey to death, but she is one heck of a ham. Enough of a ham to feed me and the whole Howell family at Christmas."

High Spirits looked up from his pad of paper, and he shrugged. "She may be the most overly dramatic actor in the Republic, but at least she's our ham."

But as the man and the stallion reclined in the shade, watching as more and more ponies, diamond dogs, gryphons, and even humans filtered in from the city and joined the burgeoning crowd to give their support for the common cause of peace and equality. And though they were pleased with the turnout, others within the city did not find the idea of mankind's most ancient enemies gathering in mass so appealing.


****************************************


Private Zwicky paced down the hallway, clutching a short stack of papers in his hand. The private was grim, just as his job normally entailed. And even if it was a normal day of filling out papers in the Lazarus Military Police Headquarters in Fort Greenewell, he would still be just as grim and firm set. But today was no normal day, reports had been filing in for the past two hours, demanding some kind of law enforcement action. And with the amount of complaints, the decision for forceful action could only come from one man: Provost Marshal Henry Mathers, commander of the Republic of Terra's military police and self appointed sheriff of Lazarus.

Private Zwicky knocked lightly on the door to the Marshal's office.

"Come in," the Marshal's husky voice called through the door. The private stepped into his superior's office, stopping to snap a salute. 

Peering up from his current report, Provost Marshal Mathers looked annoyed at the private's presence, and Zwicky could understand why. Even though the Provost Marshal himself was still subject to routine inspections, his office looked ransacked. Papers were strewn across his desk in a messy heap, some spilling over to form little drifts of bureaucracy on the floor. Crumpled up reports and files overflowed from the waste paper bin, and it seemed like the file cabinets behind the Marshal were ready to burst. And despite the disarray and overall messiness of his office, the Provost Marshal himself was a different case. Mathers was a heavy man, muscled well despite years behind the desk ordering around the Military Police of Old World Fort Greenewell. At the neck of his tan office uniform, a pair of bombardier shades hung, always at the ready. 

"What is it, Zwicky?" the Marshal asked.

Private Zwicky cleared his throat. "Sir, we've received sixty more complaints in the last half hour." Zwicky offered the file in his hand to the Provost Marshal. Mathers gave an exasperated groan, and took the additional paperwork from his subordinate.

"Noise, noise, noise, and more noise complaints," Mathers muttered as he thumbed through the filed complaints. "All about the same crap, that damn rally in the park. To think, I thought this was going to be a nice day; not a single non-human has made a fuss all morning, and the MP's haven't made a single arrest because of protests and crap like that." The Provost Marshal dropped the file on the desk, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at his sore temples. "What the hell do these people want me to do about it? They reserved the Park for the day, and so far all I have is noise complaints. And these people think that they can whine enough and make it stop!"

Zwicky shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "Sir, the crowd is in excess of five thousand, and continuing to grow. With this many complaints, Senatorial decree says we have to take action."

"What kind of action do you think we should take, Zwicky?" the Marshal growled back, knowing full well that his soldiers should have investigated the situation hours ago. "The crowd is five thousand strong, but we only have five hundred MPs, half of which are off duty. The only thing stopping me from sending out all my boys in riot armor is the fact that those animals have the right to peaceful assembly!"

Again Zwicky shifted uncomfortably. "Actually, sir, they don't. That's one of the reasons why we have to take action. Their gathering is unconstitutional, and therefore a threat to the sanctity of Lazarus."

Mathers leaned forward, folding his fingers. "Straight from the book, eh? Jesus, the Justice Department is going to have my ass if this gets hairy. Zwicky, call all off duty military police, mobilize the standing garrison. I want them in crowd suppression gear only. If I hear a murmur about any soldier carrying live ammo, our whole branch of the military is going to be cutting permafrost for the railroad until the sun burns out."

"Yes sir," Zwicky replied grimly, spinning on his heels and marching out of the office. 

The Provost Marshal sighed. If he took no action, it was a dereliction of duty, and a black mark across the face of the entire Terran military. But those creatures out there were in clear violation of the law, assembling in numbers that threatened the stability and the comfort of the rest of the citizens of Lazarus. He did not want this whole event to turn into a damned riot, which it always did when the police got involved. 

"Fucking entrapment," he muttered.


****************************************


"And I can tell you, my fellows of both heart and home, that my dream for a better and more united Republic does not stand alone!" Honey Cup projected to her crowd. The pegasus waved a hoof to the reluctant pony beside her, a shaky little chocolate brown unicorn stallion with somewhat of a fluffy mane that reminded the audience of foam. "Sir, would you tell everyone what your dream was?"

The stallion shrank back as the mare addressed him. "Um... er uh.... I uh, I wanted to open a coffee shop," he said quietly.

Honey Cup stepped closer to him. "Speak up darling, you'll have to project. Speak from the diaphragm," she hurriedly whispered.

The unicorn cleared his throat. "I wanted to open a coffee shop."

The actress almost knocked him over as she once again stole the limelight. "A simple coffee shop! That is all he has ever wanted in his life, a place where one can come to find refreshment, energy, and good company! And what did the federal government say to your dream?"

The stallion sighed. "They denied me a business permit, and the bank denied me a loan for capital."

"Was this because of bad credit? Perhaps a few unsightly misdemeanors staining your record?"

"No," the stallion replied, "it's because I'm a pony, and they didn't think that my business would recover enough income to pay off the loan."

Honey Cup laid a comforting hoof on his shoulder. "We all know that you would have made more than enough back in a single month to pay off any loans or debts that you had accrued. There is nothing wrong with you or your ideas, my friend. There is just the suspicion and the grudge that the human race holds against us. A grudge that we are undeserving of bearing! So I ask this of you, my fellow creatures, do not shy away from helping out a friend in need! If Mr Espresso files again for a business permit and succeeds, do not be afraid to help out his business in the slightest. We will overcome this dark time in the history of this nation not by rising up and waving the flags of revolution, but by being the most exemplary citizens that this nation has ever seen! Thank you for telling us your story, Mr Espresso."

The unicorn happily vacated the stage after being dismissed by the pegasus. Honey Cup took a moment to gather her breath, and noticed that her crowd was beginning to break apart. A quick check of the pocket watch in her light jacket revealed that she had been soap-boxing for the past two and a half hours, several times the length of time that she had been originally allotted. 

Time for a break, she decided. After all, her voice was starting to get just the slightest bit hoarse, despite her special talent of vocal endurance, being able to go for hours and hours up on stage without needing a drink, a break, or even shutting up. Honey trotted off the stage, much to the relief of the crowd, and made her way towards the nearest source of cold water.

After fruitlessly searching for several minutes, she found a water cooler with some ice still sloshing around back by the event organizers, still tallying numbers and running interception on the press. 

"Hey sweet stuff, finally run out of steam?" High Spirits asked. 

Honey sipped daintily at her foam cup of water, holding her head high and poshly replying, "One does not 'run out of steam' in my art, an actress of my caliber simply knows when to bow out."

"Whatever you say, cupcake. Anyways, if you're done up on stage there, I want you head over and rendezvous with that politics reporter from the radio," High said, once again flipping through his clipboard filled with papers. 

"Hmph, off of one stage and onto another. But it is the burden that I shouldered once I joined this movement," the pegasus murmured to herself, trotting over towards the small area of the rally cordoned off just for media and reporters. Indeed, a few of the reporters from Equestria had decided to get in on a slightly less headline-grabbing story since the seemingly imminent declaration of a mistrial in a few days.

She soon spied the human reporter, a younger looking woman that stood easily a head taller than the pony reporters all around her in the media pen. With her was a face that was vaguely familiar to the mare, one that everybody in Lazarus could easily identify. Mr Patterson didn't seem like he was at all interested in what was happening around him, yet the woman interviewing him seemed raptly intent about what he had to say about the rally. But she wasn't scribbling down notes like all of the pony reporters and columnists, she was speaking into another cryptic piece of human technology, one that Honey Cup guessed was some kind of recording device.

The pegasus waved at the woman, and realizing that Honey Cup was most likely the mare she was supposed to be interviewing, Lisa Eddins gave a quick wave back, weaving through the crowd to meet Honey halfway. 

"Lisa Eddins, LPR," she curtly said in introduction. "You must be the spokesperson for the movement."

Honey stretched out her wings, flapping them just enough to hover about a foot off the ground, yet just high enough so that she was at eye level with the tall and limber human. "Honey Cup, madam. It is a pleasure to meet you." She extended a hoof in greeting, and Lisa fumbled around with her recorder, resting it in the crook of her arm so that she could extend a hand to shake.

They exchanged a fairly formal handshake, deciding mutually that the general roar of the surrounding crowd would not be conducive to conduct their business. And so both the mare and the woman grabbed a quick drink of the quickly dwindling supply of cold water and retired to a park bench just a few dozen yards shy of the rally. Though they could both still hear the goings on of the rally, their little private place was quiet and serene, a completely different world than the protests and the speeches that continued to shake the the city of the humans. 

Lisa thoroughly settled on the bench, making sure that both she and the person she was interviewing were comfortable enough to conduct their little interview. The reporter and radio host was not surprised when Honey Cup curled up on the bench rather than sitting straight up. Satisfied that they were both in a good position away from the crowd, Lisa pressed the record button on her voice recorder. 

"This is Lisa Eddins, political correspondent for Lazarus Public Radio. With me today is Honey Cup, the new spokesperson and the figurehead of the civil movement. Ms Cup, if I may call you that, I would first like to thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to answer a few of the public's burning questions about ponies and the civil rights movement in general."

"And I thank you for being so generous as to chronicle our struggle, Ms Eddins," the pegasus replied.

"Not a problem. My first question may be a bit blunt, why are you personally such a crusader for equal rights? I have met several ponies in the past few days who were radical supporters of the equalization of rights across the boundary of species. Even Melody, one of my fellow reporters and coworkers believes in tearing down the barriers that divide us. But nobody, sorry, nopony else I have seen has had quite the fervor and the zeal for this movement that I see in you."

Honey chuckled, a beautiful yet dignified laugh that Lisa believed would translate well onto the radio, a little nuance that might humanize the ponies of Lazarus a bit more in the eyes of the Republic's humans. "For me, I've always believed that everypony has some kind of cause that they were born to bear the flag of. Some people want to take part in small causes, like getting a petition signed to fix the potholes in the road or perhaps lower some tax or another. But some people are born to take part in bigger causes: raising money to help build a new hospital, campaign to build a new memorial to fallen soldiers, or even to right the wrongs of inequality. Personally, I joined the cause because I was among the first to hear the words of Lyra Heartstrings, who dared to stand up to what she knew was wrong, and that inspired me to do my own part. She told me that we did not need to fight to gain our rights, but we needed to stand together, and prove ourselves with the strength of our hearts and the power of our words. And most ponies will comment that nopony else they know has quite the voice like me. So when the movement began to spread out from the courtroom and into the streets, I was quickly pushed to the frontline."

"Fascinating," Lisa commented in one of her stock-reporter responses. "But don't you fear repercussions? I mean, many of the ponies that regularly take place in your protests and demonstrations have faced criminal charges for multiple offenses. Charges that will permanently be on their records, even if the movement succeeds or fails in its goal. I have heard from multiple sources that pony activists have received physical threats from those humans who take the extreme opposite stance from yourself. Have you received any threats? Don't you fear for yourself or your family?"

Honey sighed, remembering back to a night not so long ago. She had been walking back to her home from the Watering Hole, just a little tipsy from her usual evening libations, when a human who had had a little more to drink than her had crossed her path on the street. Thankfully it had not been violent, but the memory of what that man had threatened to do to her hadn't been dulled in the least. "There have been incidents, yes. But I will not be deterred. There are tales of warriors who lost a leg in the heat of combat, yet they raised up their blade and continued to fight until the day was won. If somepony can do that, I can take a few foul words and still have enough dignity to forge onwards towards a brighter tomorrow."

Lisa smiled. She admired this mare's courage, and with her continued bravery, ponies like Honey were the ones who were going to change this country forever. She had known people of greater power and greater responsibility in the twenty-first century who could not compare to amount of change for the better that they could bring. She thought for a moment about all the senators and all the statesmen of old America that campaigned and promised so much, yet accomplished next to nothing in all their years of presiding over one of the most powerful nations in the world. Yet it was the small people, people like Honey Cup, who would change the world for the better.

The reporter cleared her throat, bringing herself back to the interview. "The movement is running strong, and the people here are determined, but the movement did suffer a massive blow. You of all people should know about Lyra Heartstrings's defeat in court, what we assume will end in the declaration of a mistrial. How has that affected you? Lyra was a leader of the movement, and it was her decision to pursue the adoption of a human child that sparked the civil rights movement in the first place."

Honey sighed, her shoulders drooping down in defeat. The loss of Lyra and her focused attack on the judiciary of the Republic had been one of the most substantial blows to the morale of the ponies of Lazarus. Greater than any amount of arrests, threats, or even the continued bad press that many of them received, the loss of Lyra as a figurehead to stand behind had made at least a quarter of the ponies actively involved in the movement quit overnight, and every rights organization had suffered great losses in personnel, many of whom believed that the entire plan to change the Republic hinged on a victory in court. 

"Losing Lyra was ... losing her was like losing a member of our family. Lyra was the reason that many ponies even knew that they had the option of standing up. And the day when that evidence against her was delivered, she came to us and said..."

It's over. Just go back to your homes and forget all about this! I screwed you all from the beginning, and now there's never going to be a chance for you all.

The pegasus held back those words, and she looked into the reporter's eyes with determination. "She said to us, 'Never give up. Never back down because of who you are.' And then she walked out the door."

Lisa nodded, admiring the apparent grace in which Lyra accepted her defeat. "She sounds like a real leader. Which brings me to my next point..." She stopped herself in the middle of her sentence. Honey Cup had ceased to listen, instead looking around warily. Something did not feel right. Honey Cup was frozen in her seat, her large ears radiating around, trying to pick up some kind of sound.

"Something's wrong," Honey murmured under her breath. 

Lisa strained to hear, not having the same level of sensory sensitivity that the ponies tended to have. Their place in the park was quiet enough as it was, but she finally heard what was. The dull roar of the crowd that marked the rally was different. Whereas before it had been full of cheers and the single voices of people on stage shouting their encouragements and their speeches, now the voices of the ponies of Lazarus trembled with fear and anger.

"Oh no," Lisa said under her breath. The reporter leaped from the bench, tossing down her recorder and her papers. But she was not alone, Honey Cup flew alongside her, keeping pace with her new human friend. 


*******************************************


He didn't have to come, yet he did anyways. 

Aaron was not the kind of man who willingly missed a good protest, and this was one doozy of a protest. Over five thousand ponies, humans, donkeys, a few gryphons, cows, and even a coterie of diamond dogs all rubbed shoulders in a sea of smiling faces. They came to represent the force of change that was sweeping across the small nation of mankind like a gale, and each and every one had their own reasons for coming to this rally today. Some believed that the only way to find themselves on equal ground and to achieve the success and prosperity that they had been promised upon entering this land was to make themselves a driving force in the goings on of this country. Others, like the diamond dogs, sought to bring themselves into a golden age of civilization and happiness the likes of which had not been seen since the fall of Understone, the once mighty subterranean utopia of the diamond dogs.

But for Aaron, it was more of a chore today. Certain "forces" had decreed that he be there as a witness, and to make sure nothing got out of hand. Despite his matron's declaration of forced neutrality, here he was acting like a chaperoning parent at a school dance, wondering when he could go home and relax. 

"Least I got rid of Lisa," he muttered to himself, barely dodging a zealous pegasus pony as he zipped only inches overhead. His little magic student became rather clingy when he was around, and he suspected there was some kind of idol worship going on with that woman. Maybe even a little crush or something. 

"Hey Aaron!" a woman's voice shouted. He froze, thinking for a moment that Lisa had managed to finish her interview in less than a minute and wanted to bother him again about teaching her that spirit conjuration chant that even he hadn't tested out yet. But his anxiety wore off and his confusion simultaneously rose as a woman dressed like she just dropped out of the Summer of Love walked towards him through the crowd.

"Who the hell?" he muttered, trying to see through the bandana, the overly large shades, and the gratuitous amount of flowers in her blonde hair. "Can't be. Eve Mcentyre? What're you doin' out here?" 

The older scientist laughed as she closed in on her old partner and student. "I heard that a few people were having a party up top, and I decided to drop in. It ain't a counter culture until I show up."

Aaron snorted, looking over her frankly ridiculous outfit, complete with a more-than-worn flowery skirt that was threadbare at the hem, a tank top that showed a little too much skin for a woman her age, and what appeared to be a bandana stitched with a peace sign. "Hey, 1969 called, they said that Woodstock ended a couple thousand years ago."

Eve put on a mildly offended look, one whose sincerity was completely annulled by her playfulness and her free spirit. "Woodstock?! You wish I was that old! I was just a little girl when all the real hippie stuff happened."

"Then what's with the get-up? You drive here in a Volkswagen bus with twelve of your hippie buddies?"

She smacked him lightly on the shoulder, frowning lightly at his continued jibes. "I respect the culture. And at least I'm representing the ideals of peace, love, and harmony. Even more than you, Mr 'I talk to God'. And it makes me feel twenty to stick it to The Man again."

Aaron snickered to himself. "Stick it to The Man, huh? I forget, how long did you work for the U.S. government?" he asked sarcastically. "Oh wait, and wasn't some of that studying and breeding bio-weapons? So much for peace, harmony and love. Face it Eve, you're more of The Man than Nixon. And even if you are representing that kind of stuff right now, you're still gonna go home, wake up tomorrow and go back to work for The Man."

Eve was not swayed, and she grinned victoriously despite the mounting evidence of her false flower-child persona. "Ever consider that I might be a double agent? That the reason I know my way around a bio-lab so well is the fact that maybe I gassed a few microbial weapons research facilities when I was younger?" 

The very thought seemed to quiet his objections, and for some reason the constant intrusion of the memories of the long dead blasted him with an image of six or seven young people dressed in black, breaking into a laboratory and doing exactly what Eve claimed to do back in her day. And the young man grumbled to himself about the woman who made less sense than some of the inane rants he heard from Pinkie Pie.

"So where's your little girlfriend? Word on the grapevine is that she spends a lot of time over at your place. Finally starting to act like a young man your age, eh?" she said, nudging him in the ribs with her elbow. 

"What do you mean? I act my age." 

Eve rolled her eyes at his thick-headedness. "What I mean is that you're acting like somewhat of a normal person for once. Getting a girlfriend, going out with friends, just enjoying your life instead of letting your responsibilities take over. Can you even remember what it was like to walk amongst us mortals? I mean, you've been so far out there that I was afraid you'd forgotten what it was like to be right here."

Aaron grinned at her hippie wisdom, a set of thoughts that had likely come to the woman under some "deep meditations". But after he thought for a moment, his grin began to fall. Her words were holding a lot more truth than he was comfortable with. All of the infiltrations of memories that he had never experienced, his regular communion with entities that would normally defy human comprehension, speaking with the ghosts of the dead, and even his newfound powers of magic, they were all distancing him from the here and now. Tearing him away from his true reality and replacing it with some cobbled together mind that was less and less his own with each day. 

And that nightmare... 

"Hey, you okay?" 

He snapped back to reality, damning himself for falling away from their conversation like that. "Yeah, I'm fine. Anita's working today, so she's busy for a while. My roommate has been locked in the study for the past day and a half, and I'm... I'm doing my own thing."

The older woman raised a bandana clad eyebrow. "Which would be....?"

Aaron rolled his eyes. "You know, I think that's my business and my business only. A lot of top secret stuff, savin' the Republic and kissing the ass of everyone and everything that my half dozen bosses tell me to."

Eve started to reply with something about relaxing and finding his "zen place" and how she had just as much access to that so called "top secret stuff", when a commotion at the far edge of the crowd caught their attention. Several pegasi flew overhead, zipping either towards the gathering at the far end of the park, or running from it. The dull roar of the crowd began to switch away from a pleasant gathering of like minded people to a flurry of shouts and angered jeers. 

"What the hell is going on over there?" Eve asked out loud. 

"I don't know, but it can't be good," Aaron replied, already squeezing through the crowd in order to investigate, and if necessary, to stop whatever commotion was upsetting the creatures in that crowd. Something in the back of his mind was tingling, and he knew from the commonality of the sensation that something was trying to either connect with him psionically or just trying to warn him. Either way, when a situation similar to this one arose, that tingling feeling didn't mean that there was a half-off bake sale taking place.

As Aaron shoved through a nearly solid wall of technicolor ponies and other such creatures, his ears caught the first hint of what was going on. The rumble of several diesel engines was beginning to mix with the shouts of the rallied creatures. Soon it came to drown out the roar of the crowd. And when the young mage was finally able to push his way to the front of the crowd, he finally saw the source. 

Twenty heavy military trucks and transport vehicles rumbled to a stop at the edge of the park. The doors on the backs popped open, and dozens of men dressed in black military fatigues and armor leaped out, forming a line in front of their transports two deep. The front line raised plexiglass riot shields and formed a solid wall of protection while the men in the back row raised up batons and tear canister launchers. But they did not press any kind of offensive, and one man among their number stepped forward from the line, holding a bullhorn in his hand.

Raising it up, he began his duties. "Attention citizens, your gathering is in violation of the law. Disperse immediately and return to your homes."

"Violation of the law?!" someone in the crowd shouted. "You're full of it!" The crowd shouted their angered agreement, sick of the way that the humans constantly stepped on their rights.

It was then that Honey Cup dropped from the air at the forefront of the rally, landing only a few feet from the man with the bullhorn. The ranks of military police behind him bristled in surprise, holding their batons tightly and their riot shields firmly.

"What is the meaning of this!" the pegasus demanded. "We have reserved this area fairly, we filled out all the proper paperwork! We have every right to be here right now!"

The man at the front of the MPs tucked his bullhorn under his arm, assuming Honey Cup to be the spokesperson and therefore the leader. "Citizen, the kind of gathering that your kind is engaging in is not sanctioned by either your constitutional rights or the laws of this city. Human citizens of Lazarus feel threatened by your presence. By martial edict, you must disperse!"

"We are doing no harm to anybody!" Honey Cup shouted back over the din of the crowd. "We have our rights! And if we do not, we will not leave this place until the government decides to grant us them!"

Back in the crowd, several rows in, Aaron prepared a little line-up of magical spells that he could use to break up the tension and force back both the ponies and the human military police. But he did not want it to come to that, and the forces that sent him here would prefer that he did not use that strategy. So until it came down to that, the tingle in his hands and at the back of his mind would stay right where they were. His greatest weapon now was his reputation and his sway, and he intended to resolve this with those two alone.

He took a deep breath, and began to push his way towards the front, when a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Eve shouted to him.

Aaron spun around to face her. "Doing my job," he replied firmly.

She held onto his shoulder as he tried to turn back. "Woah woah woah, you can't go up there! This isn't your fight! You see, this is what I was talking about, this is what's wrong with you! You're not Superman! You can't just go up there, wave your hand, do some heroic stuff and save the day. Aaron, are you listening to me? Aaron? Aaron!"

The young man's eyes glazed over, the world began to grow blurry for him. Everything was suddenly encapsulated in a veil of mist, as if a cloth had been drawn over his eyes. The air grew thin, and he tried to breathe in more and more, but found that he couldn't seem to breathe enough to fill his lungs. And as his body began to ache with the need for air, the unthinkable happened.

All at once, without warning or even a sign, his magic vanished. His psionics, his arcane touch, even his link to the other world all blinked out like a snuffed candle. He panicked, or at least he wanted to panic. He wanted to gasp for breath that would not come, he wanted to scream that he had become vulnerable. He wanted to desperately cling to whatever shreds and tatters of his magic and the ever present comforting link to the world of his matron. Every instinct and sense was screaming at him that he was in danger, that something wicked was falling over him and the rally. But the veil that fell over his world carried with it something that dulled his senses and made him weak, and his mind and body could do nothing to fight this sudden loss.

He heard his name being called through the ether, and the young man head lazily turned to see the slowed and blurred form of Eve looking him right in the eyes, her distant voice carrying concern and fear. 

"Aaron," her distant and far away voice said through the veil, "your nose."

My nose? the young man thought, and his hand unconsciously drifted up to his face, where he felt a warm and damp substance covering his lip and trickling down his chin. He looked at his fingers, and his mind was completely unsurprised to see them stained red with his own blood. It didn't make him concerned, it didn't startle him, yet deep down within the very depths of his soul, he was afraid.

And then it all became clear again. The veil began to lift, but the world still stayed in the slow moving snail's pace that it had taken on. The voices were still dampened, the faces of the people around him still contorted in anger and fear. The crowd was pressing closer to the ranks of military police, who in turn were readying their weapons and their shields. In the back of his mind, he could hear her, his matron, the great Mother Earth screaming at him, telling him to intervene, telling him to do stop the violence before it could begin. But her voice was too far away, so tiny that it barely seemed like the buzz of a gnat at his ear. 

He felt a grip on his arm, and he drunkenly swung around to see Eve trying to hold him, trying to keep him from falling. 

"Aaron! Just calm down! Just relax, you're gonna be okay!" she screamed ineffectually. But nothing could have been farther from the truth.

A spike of pure agonizing pain drove into his skull, and Aaron fell to his knees, screaming from the intense and searing agony. The blood in his head pounded like a thousand drums, and his skull felt as though it were splitting at each little seam, threatening to explode with each thunderous pound of his own heart. 

So weak... so... pitiful...

The mere sound of that voice ringing through his thoughts froze the man in his agony. It was not the kind, gentle, and soothing voice of his celestial matron. No, this voice carried with it the screams of untold numbers of tortured souls, and the very sound of it in his mind made him feel unclean and tainted. "No..." he whimpered. "NO!"

A single image flashed through his mind, burning itself onto his memory. A single image. A pair of eyes, blackened by an abyss of empty, dark flame, glaring into the depths of his soul. Mocking his very existence, promising so much pain.

So violent, it crooned. So easy...

Aaron looked around himself, seeing the world had continued to slow, almost to the point of being completely frozen. All around him, the looks of fear and anger had seemingly multiplied, and the crowd was on the verge of storming the MPs. So much chaos was waiting to erupt, and the dark thing inside of him was feeding on it. 

No, it was not feeding, it was causing this. It was cutting off his magic, sending out waves of anger and hatred to roll through the crowds. 

He looked up to the sky, his hands pressed against his temples, and he screamed. He screamed in agony, he screamed in fear, but most of all he screamed in despair. There was nothing he could do to stop the growing turmoil around him, and in fact his very presence and the presence of the foul thing lurking in the dark reaches of his spirit seemed to stoke those flames. 

For within him, the monster lived on.


***********************


The captain with the bullhorn continued to stare down Honey Cup, not giving an inch to the intense and unswayable pegasus. 

"This is your last warning. Go back to home immediately, and you will not face criminal charges for obstruction of justice!"

"What justice?" Honey Cup yelled back, reinforced by hundreds of her shouting supporters. "My people came here today to protest in peace, and you fascists proclaim that the only way we can even hope to change a law is breaking the law! If there is any true obstruction of justice and violation of the law, it's you people that are doing it!" The crowd behind her roared their agreement, raising their fists and their hooves in the air.

Something seemed to touch the captain's mind, and his face twisted in rage. "Violating the law? Violating the goddamned law?! You animals are the reason why we need these laws! You've tossed this entire goddamned country into chaos, and all the people of this city want is to be left alone! And as a last warning, you now have two minutes to begin dispersing!"

Honey Cup set her jaw firm and narrowed her eyes, glaring with determination, not hatred, at the angered man only steps away from her. Her eyes flicked away just for a second, looking down at his hip. In the time that she had spent among the human race, she had come to recognize the kinds of strange and alien looking weapons that their soldiers carried. And sure enough, there sat a small black object, a smaller version of the ones that the regular soldiers carried.

A puffed up actress against an armed soldier, she thought to herself, how did I get into this? All around her, the shouts and the jeers of the literal thousands of ponies and other creatures magnified as the captain made his ultimatum. Honey refused her instincts, her base urges that were yelling at her to run like a scared filly and hope she could find safety in the herd. 

If we can beat them here, if we can beat them now, we can beat them anywhere, she thought to herself. Wise words from a wise man. A wise human man, one who had fought the very wars that the soldiers in front of her had learned their fighting ways and earned their grit from.

"You have one minute to comply!" the captain shouted to Honey, waiting for her to wilt under the burning heat and the oppressive glares of him and his soldiers. They possessed enough non-lethal firepower to drive back the entire protest if necessary, but should the creatures make the first move, it would be a hard fight to win. They had the firepower, but they lacked the manpower, and though his force was imposing to untrained eye, even the simplest strategist knew they possessed the disadvantage, being outnumbered a disheartening ten to one at the very minimum.

"Ready tear gas. Fire mid-crowd, and only at my order," he said to the second rank of military police, who each slid a 40mm gas canister into their launchers.Turning his focus back to Honey Cup, he shouted, "You now have thirty seconds to comply!"

Honey wanted to turn tail and run away more than anything else in the world, but if she backed down now, everything that the movement had left would be gone. They had lost too much with Lyra leaving as it was, and she knew that the ponies behind her would lose their will should she back down.

A shaggy, dusty looking form appeared by her side, and Foxtrot laid a paw on her shoulder. "Get behind me, pony. They not hurt me as bad as they hurt you."

"No!" Honey said to him, knowing that the large and imposing diamond dog would only incite the humans to strike. "This is my fight." Begrudgingly, the sandy coated hound stepped back, though he was still more than ready to spring to her side at the slightest cue.

The captain set his face firm. "Ten, nine, eight, seven. Six! Five! Four! THREE! TWO-"

His countdown was cut short by a scream from the crowd. A shriek of pain so blood curdling and so piercing that every man in the line and every creature in the crowd instinctively covered their ears, recoiling from the suddenness of the interruption. Something within that soul chilling wail touched something primal in the field commander, a fear of the primal darkness that had affected his kind for so many millenia, a fear of his fellow man and the horrors he could commit. 

"Captain!" a young private from the second rank shouted. "Active omega signature! The needle is buried, sir!" He held up the viewing screen of his energy spectrum analyzer, showing the extreme spike in active magical energies. The machine on his back was practically whining with the amount of energy that it was feeling in the air. 

And the captain, a man who had been on multiple patrols and heard that phrase several times, as well as having been in the retreat skirmishes of Operation Hammerstrike, knew the meaning of such a spike: combat spells, or at least something similar to them. 

"Shit! Defensive positions!" he shouted, falling back between a row of riot shields. "Get a goddamned Tesla Shield up!"

Reacting more out of instinct than order, a man in the back row fearfully fired a tear gas canister into the heart of the crowd. And once it began to spray clouds of noxious and stinging gas, all hell broke loose. The crowd surged forward, and the military police responded in turn, firing more tear gas rounds, flailing with their batons at the nearest creatures, and pushing forward with their riot shields. 

And being the first person in their path, Honey Cup was the first to feel their wrath. She held her ground despite it all, and for it she received a baton to the cheek, a blow that knocked the mare completely off her hooves and onto the ground. But before a human soldier could slap a pair of handcuffs on her, and before the advancing line of riot police could trample her, a sandy coated diamond dog leaped in, bowling over three men in a ball of canine anger. Instantly the lines closed around Foxtrot, and the diamond dog was showered with a flurry of baton strikes. With a heavy swing of his burly arms, Foxtrot knocked two more riot police back as they tried to subdue him. The diamond dog snarled, retreating back and scooping up the unconscious mare from the ground and shoving his way through the crowd. 

He carried the mare through the screaming masses, holding his breath and squinting his eyes at the stinging clouds of tear gas that were erupting with the continuing barrage from the riot police's line. Others were on the ground already, choking on the noxious gas as it pumped into the air, their eyes red with tears and their lungs burning. But diamond dogs were made from tougher stuff, and they were used to the harsh chemical gasses that one would inhale when working underground or over a forge, and so members of the Steelworkers Union were ferrying out ponies and other creatures to a safer place upwind and away from the melee. 

Foxtrot ran to the edge of the park, towards the people that he knew would take care of Honey Cup. Both High Spirits and Jimmy Howell were watching the riot with horror on their faces, and their shock only multiplied when the diamond dog erupted from the crowd with a limp mare in his arms. He laid her down as gently as he could in the grass, coughing from the burn of gas in his lungs. 

"Honey!" High Spirits shouted, dropping down to check her for wounds. A large gash bled profusely across her cheek, and both the pony and the man worried that her neck might have been injured. 

"Jesus man," Jimmy swore, dropping his sign and tearing off his jacket. "What the fuck are we gonna do?!" Wadding up his brand new jacket, the young man pressed it to the deep gash on Honey's cheek.

"We're gonna get Honey to a doctor, that's what!" High tried to lift the pegasus mare onto his back as delicately as he could.

"What doctor? All the doctors in the city are humans, and it's illegal for them to treat a pony!" 

High grimaced, shifting Honey Cup so she wouldn't move on his back. "I don't know, okay! We just gotta find someone to help her!"

But before the pair could run off into the city, the mare began to stir. Honey groaned, a hoof drifting to her cheek. "What happened?" she croaked. 

Jimmy placed a hand on her shoulder, keeping her from leaning up. "You got hit bad. The whole crowd has gone nuts, and we have to get you to a doctor right now!"

As the sounds of the riots filled her ears, Honey Cup leaned up, removing herself from High Spirit's back. Spreading her wings, the pegasus turned back towards the riot. 

"Hey, what are you doing?!" High shouted as she leaped into the air. 

"I started this, and I have to end this!" Honey shouted back, flying as quickly as her swimming head would allow. 

"Damn it!" High swore, stomping his hoof ineffectually on the ground. "She's gonna get herself killed!" Without need for any kind of planning or even the need to discuss the matter, both Jimmy and High ran after Honey, right back into the heart of the Lazarus riot.


**********************************


Lisa kept towards the edge of the surging crowd, not wanting to get crushed or trampled by the writhing mass of ponies and other creatures as they both tried to hold their ground and beat a hasty retreat. The whole time, her eyes swept the massive crowd, looking for one person in particular, one who she believed could stop this all with a few words. But the clouds of tear gas and the constant shouts of ponies both in anger and in pain. 

Her search only yielded one definitive result, the knowledge that most of the humans that had dared to take place in the rally today had skipped town at the first sign of the riot police, and with their absence, the ponies lacked the assurance that their actions were completely legal. 

Right about now, she should have been doing her job as a correspondent for the media and snapping as many pictures as she could, pictures of the clouds of gas, of the line of military police swatting ponies away like gnats, maybe a picture of the stallion limping away from the riot, his entire shoulder swollen and purple with bruises. 

Suddenly, she spotted an older woman dressed in a worn skirt stumbling away from the crowd, a much larger figure supported on her shoulder. Lisa knew somehow that she had found the person who could stop this, and she ran as quickly as she could to the older woman's side, taking Aaron's free arm and slinging it over her shoulder. Without a word of thanks or the need for direction, together they carried the semi-conscious man away from the riot and towards a shaded bench. 

"Lay him down gently," the other woman instructed. Lisa carefully laid Aaron on his back, folding up her overshirt and placing it under his head. 

"What's wrong with him? Do I need to get a doctor?" Lisa asked frantically.

"I have medical training, but it sure as shit wouldn't be a bad idea!" Eve ripped off her headband and unscrewed the cap to her water bottle, soaking the rag with plenty of cool water before pressing it to the man's forehead. She took notes of all his symptoms; violent spasms, unconsciousness, foaming at the mouth, what felt like a fever, and something that a medical doctor would normally discount, the apparent headache he suffered. "Okay, he either has epilepsy, some severe heatstroke, or he has the most sudden case of rabies I've ever seen."

"What do we do to help him?!" Lisa practically shouted. 

"Epilepsy, nothing. Heatstroke, we're already doing everything we can. Rabies, dig a grave."

Lisa didn't find the morbid humor in the other woman's diatribe so amusing, and she tried to think of anything that she could do to help. And for some reason, seeing the park in turmoil, seeing her teacher lying on a bench possibly dying from some unknown malady, the classes at the Shrine began to come back to her. Certain classes, certain lessons flashed through her mind, and the reporter almost unconsciously reached for her pad of paper and her pencil. Flipping to a clean page, she began to scribble down a rune from memory. She knew she wouldn't be able to get every line straight and every little letter nuance right, but it would hold some strength no matter how badly she did it. And with her hands shaking so badly and the shouts and screams from the riot only a few hundred feet away ringing in her ears, she hastily finished her rune, tearing it from her notebook and placing it face down on Aaron's bare arm.

"What are you doing? What is that?" Eve asked, not knowing the implications of Lisa's theory nor the art of runic magic. 

"It's a rune," Lisa replied, scribbling out another rune of the same basic function in her notebook. "Celestial letters that focus magic. That one means 'calm'."

"God damn it, this isn't the time for fucking hocus pocus! Now go get-" Eve silenced herself as Lisa applied the second rune to Aaron's other arm. And somehow, through some kind of almost miraculous means, his thrashing became less violent, and he breathed much more easily. Stopping a seizure out in the field without any medical equipment was unheard of, and usually first responders simply let the seizure stop on its own, with much risk to the patient. "Do another!" Eve said. 

Lisa quickly penned the rune for 'mind' and accompanied it with another 'calm' rune, placing that pair directly over his forehead. Within seconds, the man's breathing began to even out, and his limbs began to go limp. Scripting another set of calming runes along with the rune for 'ice' to cool him down, they had him stabilized within another minute. 

But that did not stop the riot that was growing in fury. 

Lisa bit her lip, finally deciding that Aaron was no deus ex machina who could clear the air with a wave of his hand. Realizing that the best thing she could do was the most obvious, she stood and turned to run back towards the city. But before she could go, a cold hand clamped around her wrist. The reporter turned back, seeing that the magi had awakened. Or at least, his eyes were open, yet they held no spark of life, and they were filled with a dull haze.

"She's calling...." he whispered. "The abyss... I can see it. Go... go to the shrine. She's calling you." And with that, Aaron fell limply back to the bench, fully unconscious and asleep. 

"Shrine?" Eve asked, looking from Aaron to Lisa.

"The Shrine of the Singing Crystal," Lisa said, and she suddenly knew the answer. "I know what to do. You stay with him!" Lisa dropped her bag, and she began to sprint towards the center of the park, knowing somehow that the Crystal could undo all of this.

The sounds of the shouting masses, the acrid smell of the noxious fumes, and the thoughts of the deep rifts that were being gouged into the collective psyches of both the human race and the ponies who had come with peaceful intent in mind kept her running through along the path that she had come to know so well over the past few weeks. And as she drew closer and closer, she could hear the call. A single, clarion, beautiful note on a crystalline chime that echoed in her mind, encouraging her to come closer.

She arrived in the clearing where the holy relic was kept, and she slowed herself to a walk. Not out of fatigue, but out of a respect and reverence that overcame her every time she entered this sanctified place. But time was short, and each person injured out there in that field could be the first fatality in the civil rights movement. With the fate of lives and the future of the Republic in her hands, Lisa carefully approached the magical artifact that hovered inches above the pedestal in the center of the shrine. 

The crystal shined with its typical luminescence, and its soulful song filled her heart and mind with a sense of calm and invitation. 

"Okay," Lisa whispered to herself. "What do we need to do?" 

The crystal did not respond, and it simply continued its eternal song. The reporter reached out with a hand, reluctant to touch something of such reputed power. For though she was a student of practical magic, she had never actually touched the sacred relic, and the thought of allowing an entity as powerful as a god into her thoughts was unnerving. 

Lisa closed her eyes, and she leaned forward, placing her open palm against a smooth facet of the crystal. And once her hand touched the warm and smooth surface of the artifact, she felt the essence of her spirit bond with something greater. She gasped at the influx of power, at the sudden awareness of the hundreds of spirits all around her, floating in the ether. But most of all, she felt a powerful, awe-inspiring presence, one that did not seem bound to one place, yet the reporter felt its eyes upon her. 

You wish to serve harmony? Then let this be your trial by fire. 

Lisa almost disengaged from the crystal at the sound of that voice ringing in her thoughts. But she did not, she held on. The Singing Crystal flashed with blinding magical power, and Lisa was consumed by it. Her test had begun, and the spirit of Earth laid out many options for her. Lisa could feel the weaves and the commands for hundreds of powerful spells at her fingertips, each and every one strong enough to end the riot. 

But she had to choose carefully. 

Biting her lip and scanning through the hundreds of spells, she fell on one that felt promising. A quartet of runes flashed before her eyes, and a vision played out in her mind's eye. This particular spell would summon hundreds of elementals from the energy plane, and in turn they would march in and break up the riot. But the image came with visions of monsters made from stone and flame, fully fifteen feet tall, smashing through lines of shielded riot police and masses of ponies alike, not discriminating at which fragile creatures managed to fall under their bone-shattering feet or crossed their pulverizing fists.

She very quickly dismissed that idea.

Another spell came quickly to mind, one that would suspend all gravity in the vicinity for several minutes. But the thought of thousands of creatures suspended in the air and trying to continue their fight was not promising, and she dismissed that one.

Finally, after going through almost every action that the Singing Crystal could do to stop the riot, she found a spell that she believed would work. And without another moment of hesitation, she poured all of her thoughts and all of her willpower into the crystal, hoping that she had chosen wisely. The relic began to glow more intensely, as if her willpower and her intent were fueling its efforts. But she was not nearly enough to execute such a massive expenditure of magic, and her consciousness, melded with that of the Crystal, began to reach out into the land itself. Tendrils of her mind and the Crystal's magic seeped into the deepest places of the land and high up into the loftiest reaches of the sky. The world was filled with magic, an energy that was waiting to be harnessed, waiting to flow through her and conform to her will. And the Singing Crystal would be the focus that Lisa would use to harness that power. 

Lisa concentrated, and the cloudless sky rumbled with thunder.


******************************


Honey Cup flew as quickly as her body would safely allow her to. Her head was swimming from the blow, and blood continued to leak down her cheek and stain her coat a dark crimson. At any give moment she felt like she could blackout from a concussion and plummet to the ground, a danger that all pegasus ponies were warned of and trained to avoid from a very young age. She flapped her wings, though the exertion was pumping her blood and only worsening the ache of her head. 

But she had to stay roughly one hundred feet off the ground, because she was out of range from the crowd-control shotgun pellets that were shooting down other pegasi, and far enough to where the tear gas couldn't get in her eyes and lungs. Yet if she fell unconscious, there was only the vague hope that someone down below would have the courtesy to catch her, or else she would be a roughly mare-shaped splatter on the ground. 

She flew with purpose, her goal not being the escape of the forceful rout from the park, but to find the heart of the riot. Her methods of protest, and her stubbornness had caused this dark moment in the history of the Republic, and it was her solemn duty to try and absolve this conflict, even if it meant getting killed in the process.

Honey soon spied her target, and she banked sharply downwards into a dive, tucking in her wings for extra speed. She had to pass through a gauntlet of shotgun pellets and concentrated pepper spray, but she ducked and dodged as deftly as any Wonderbolt at one of their airshows. 

Flaring out her wings to slow her descent, Honey landed hard behind the lines of the military police, sending up a small cloud of dust from her landing zone. The landing had been rough on her head, and for a moment she swayed on her hooves, almost collapsing from her concussion. But she regained her focus, and she spun around to face the soldiers. And within seconds, she was surrounded by a wall of riot shields, only broken by the one man she had come here to face off with.

The field commander, the man whose hasty order had accidentally caused this disaster, scowled at the mare's reappearance, and his hand unconsciously drifted down to the pistol holstered at his hip.

"Stop this! We have done nothing wrong! Please, stop all this!" Honey shouted. 

The field commander stepped forward, his face darkened with anger. "You and your kind have threatened this city for long enough! Now lay down on the ground, put your hand behind your head, and submit!"

Honey Cup stood firm. "No," she replied.

That single word, the mere utterance of it, was her confirmation. That one word and the mare who said it would ring throughout the annals of Terran history forever. The moment of true defiance in the face of oppression.This moment was why she had joined the movement, when the humans told her that her life was nothing, and told her to lay her head low and to accept her place as a second class citizen. 

The captain grew red in the face, stepping even closer to the mare, his hand firmly clamped on his still holstered pistol. 

"This is your last warning. Get on the ground, and put your goddamned hands behind your goddamned head!"

Honey narrowed her eyes at him. "No!" she said more firmly. 

With anger coursing through his veins, and images of the final days of the Great War flashing through his mind, the captain acted out of anger and instinct.

His pistol left its holster.

And within half a second, Honey Cup was staring down the barrel of a 45 caliber. The mare did not shrink back, she did not quiver in childish fear. Honey Cup glared past the weapon only inches from her face, and into the eyes of the man who was threatening both her life and her freedom. 

The captain held just as firm, unyielding to the simple whims of an animal. His finger found the trigger, and slowly began to apply just the slightest amount of pressure. 

Neither the human nor the pony could tear themselves away from their deathmatch long enough to notice that the military police had all stopped their assault, frozen in shock that their commander would pull a lethal weapon on a protestor, and that every pony was standing stock still. The entire crowd of nearly six thousand stood transfixed, almost completely silent at the sight of a lowly mare facing down inevitable death. 

But the ponies were frozen from something other than fear and horror. Something was in the air, a tingle of magic that tickled their minds and drew their attention. The unicorns could feel it the most, and they resisted the urge to embrace their own magic and investigate the source. But this magic was not meant for them, and the tendrils of harmonious flow sought out one person in particular, one man who needed to see the truth more than any other right that moment.

The invisible tendrils of magic found the captain, and they seeped into his mind.


**************************


His finger tightened on the trigger. He was only seconds away from blasting the defiant mare into an early grave when he began to feel the tingle of magic brushing across his skin. He resisted the urge to shiver, and his skin broke out in goosebumps. The arcane tendrils crept across his shoulders, and into his head. It was not invasive, nor did he hardly even feel it, for it would take a truly advanced and experienced student of magic to know when they felt the touch of magic on their skin. 

And as it began to creep into his mind, the world around him began to shimmer and shake. A myriad of cracks spread through his vision, and as they spread, the world began to crumble into an infinite expanse of nothingness. The people began to fade away, all the world was replaced piece by piece with another place, somewhere far removed from the park in Lazarus. The shattered pieces of the world began to reassemble, and he was no longer in Lazarus. And the mare standing only inches in front of him was replaced by someone else. A young woman, barely out of her teenage years, holding a flower in her hand. 

The world behind her began to resolve into a large campus building, and dozens of other young men and women just like her, screaming for the end of a war that had come to a miserable conclusion millenia ago. The captain looked down at his own body, and he was surprised to see himself wearing olive drab fatigues, much like his grandfather wore back in Vietnam. And in his hands, a rifle that he would be more likely to see in a museum, complete with a fixed bayonet. 

It all felt like some kind of dream, or rather a growing nightmare as he raised up the rifle and took aim. With a shout from his company commander, he squeezed the trigger, and the young woman recoiled from the impact of his shot to her chest. She fell slowly, as if time had become some kind of frame by frame horror show. 

And just as she reached the ground, the world splintered and shattered again. Again the pieces the world fell away to reveal an infinite void, and again they reassembled to show him a new perspective. This time, a cold winter gale howled at his back, and crowds of shouting men and women dressed in wool and linen coats and dresses, clothing that seemed more fitting at a colonial reenactment, stood against him and his fellow soldiers. Again, he raised his weapon, a smoothbore musket, and along with the rest of his company of red-coated soldiers, opened fire on the protestors. 

And as the men and women of the crowd reeled with pain and screamed in fear, again the world cracked and shattered. And again it reassembled, this time to something he did not expect. It was him that stood alone, his hand outstretched, the only defiant citizen against a rolling war machine. For even if the line of tanks that kept on trundling towards him did not crush him into an unrecognizable corpse, his state would execute him for simply standing up and saying no.

Again the world shattered, and again it reassembled. Each and every time the delicate, glasslike surface of this strange reality broke, it would reassemble faster, and the memories of the people who had lived these lives would flash at him even more furiously and without reprieve. It seemed like a hundred memories came through his mind before the flood began to relent, and the world of broken glass began to fade away along with the tingle of magic on his skin.

As the magical touch crept out of his mind, the captain began to realize that he had been returned to his reality. The heat of the summer sun beat down mercilessly on his head once more, and the person in front of him was no longer some face from history, it was the face of a pony mare. But in her eyes, she had the same spark of defiance that all the others had, all the others that had died for their beliefs.

It was only then that he realized he was shaking, and that every eye was on him.

The captain looked at the gun in his hand with horror and disgust, pulling his extended arm back to his side and holstering the vile thing. He looked at his hands, looking for the blood that had been there in the world of broken glass, expecting the sins of that reality to follow him back to this one.

"Captain?" his corporal called out. He looked up from his clean, yet filthy hand. "Commanding General Pilotte is on the radio. We're getting orders to pull the plug," the corporal said carefully to his superior. The captain did not respond, still haunted by the images of those past sins, still looking at his own hands. "Captain?" the corporal asked again.

The captain absently nodded, still searching his hands for the blood that had been spilled on them in so many memories. Slowly, he looked back to Honey Cup. The mare's expression had changed in the mere seconds that the vision had taken, and now she wore an expression of concern more than anything.

"You," he said, pointing towards the mare. "You're under arrest for... for disobeying of an officer of the law."

Honey Cup raised her eyebrow. But the mare had been seconds away from death only moments ago, and at least he was charging her with a crime that she had actually committed. And if the Republic's laws were anything like Equestria's laws on the subject, it was nothing more than a minor offense. 

The mare stepped forward, and offered her front hooves to be handcuffed. And just as a pair of military police in their riot gear finished cuffing her, a roar of thunder rumbled in the sky.

One of the riot policemen looked up to the sky. "Thunder? There's not a cloud in the sky."

But before he could finish that sentence, a chill wind blew, making every man, woman, stallion and mare shiver with the sudden change. Again the thunder rumbled, and a thin mist began to form from the moisture in the air. Rising into the sky, it formed into a bank of thick, roiling clouds. Just like the clouds that the ponies who had petitioned in the countryside had made to bring rain, these very clouds looked bloated and heavy with precipitation. 

A single droplet fell from the sky and splashed down on the cheek of the captain. And as it slid down his cheek like a tear drop, the anger that had boiled in his veins began to fade. And he could not remember why he even was so blindly enraged in the first place.

A sheet of rain fell from the bloated clouds, pouring down on every inch of the park, before spreading to the rest of the city and the rest of the country. The chilled wind whisked away the noxious tear gas, and the rain cooled the heated tempers of every person in the park. And when the thunder rumbled once more, everyone felt the need to take shelter from the wind and rain, and the crowd began to disperse, many running for the refuge of their homes to escape the sudden storm. 

Neither side had won, yet neither one lost. The riot police had made their stand against insurmountable odds, and the rallied creatures had held their ground. In the end, it was the intervention of nature that had ended the riots before they could spread and consume the entire city.

And as the riot police began to load up their arrests, the corporal found the captain sitting on the fender of one of the many transports. 

"Sir?" the corporal shouted over the torrential rain.

"What did I almost do, Jenson?" his superior said lowly. "I was so ready to squeeze that trigger. I was ready to paint the dirt red with her brains. But I saw something. I saw the past, I saw all the faces of the men and women who had been in the same place, in the same position as that mare. I even saw through their eyes. And I knew that I was just repeating it all, that I was repeating history." The captain looked down at his clean hands, seeing the blood that could have been on them. "I'm lucky, I guess. I was spared that shame and guilt."

The rain washed down his skin, and the man cracked the smallest smile.


********************************


The flow of magic ceased, and Lisa stepped back from the Crystal, panting from the exertion of controlling so much wild magic. The reporter slipped a hand up to her forehead, taking a deep breath to calm herself. 

"That was easily the weirdest, most bat shit crazy, most ... awesome thing I have ever done. Holy shit, that was amazing!" she said, laughing and twirling in place. "Oh my god, that was magic. That was real magic!"

She felt like dancing with glee, and she did, just for the hell of it. Lisa twirled and spun, so full of joy that she had stopped the strife and ended the danger. The rain falling around the gazebo sounded like applause, and she could even feel the pride emanating from the Singing Crystal. She had bonded with it, she had seen the world of the spirits, commanded the wild magic of the world, and she had used it to bring harmony and peace.

Lisa laughed once more, flopping down in one of the many benches that ringed the gazebo's railing. A smile was plastered across her face, and the only thing she could think about was how incredible the flow of magic had felt coursing through her spirit. It had felt so pure, so powerful, so right.

But sitting there, staring at the roof of the gazebo, basking in the afterglow of such a powerful rush, Lisa was suddenly aware that she was not alone. She sat up on the bench, and saw someone standing just outside the eaves of the gazebo, holding a large umbrella that covered all of her face except her enchanting smile.

"Lovely day, huh?" Lisa jokingly called out.

"Mhm," the stranger hummed. "Nothing like a nice, refreshing rain to clear the air." She lifted her free hand out from underneath her umbrella, holding her palm flat to catch a few cooling raindrops. The stranger chuckled to herself, slipping her dampened hand into her pocket. "Here, I think you dropped this." 

She withdrew something small from her pocket, tossing it gently over to the young woman on the bench. Lisa caught it easily, and she looked down at the object. It was a small medallion attached to a silver chain, stamped with an odd symbol of the sun flanked by two crescent moons. And within the heart of the blazing sun, an endless spiral that seemed to be in constant motion caught her eye. Lisa traced it with her finger, only to find that she could never truly find the center of it. 

Lisa smiled, and she peered up from the medallion to see that she was once again alone. The reporter slouched back on the bench, slipping the silver chain around her neck and letting the medallion rest on her bosom. 

"Guess I passed," she whispered to the rain.


***************************


"Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the Republic."

Cameras flashed as McGoff stepped up to the podium emblazoned with the flying phoenix seal of the Presidency. His appearance was different, and it was all thanks to the weasel faced man that stood behind the president. Gone were the military trappings and the dress uniforms, and in their place McGoff wore a simple navy blue suit with a white shirt and a dark tie. The men who acted as his Secret Service had finally started to look the part, shedding their combat fatigues for black suits and their assault rifles for more concealable sidearms. His image, and the image of the entire executive branch of the government had undergone a massive overhaul, overseen by none other than Vice President Smitts.

And now seemed like the best time to display that new image, one that would hopefully help the people of his nation to fall in behind him.

McGoff took a deep breath, and he began his speech. 

"Earlier today, events transpired which resulted in the shedding of Terran blood by soldiers of this nation. Roughly two hundred individuals were arrested in the resulting riot, several dozen civilians were injured, and some were put in critical condition. No one knows who fired the first shot or threw the first rock, but that does not matter. What matters is that soldiers of this nation reacted in a way that was not exemplary of this nation's military. As a result, the Provost Marshal of the Military Police has been placed on administrative leave, and his service record has been placed up for review."

"But it is not the actions of the military personnel who responded, nor the aggressions of the creatures who assembled in the park today that marks this tragedy. We will not remember this day in the history of the Republic by the number of injured, nor the saving grace that prevented this event from spreading into the city. Historians will remember this day as the day that the people of this nation forsook their fellow citizens and chose instead to act in violence. But we will not be weakened by this tragedy! The Republic of Terra has weathered many trials: natural disasters, monsters, even the apocalypse itself! Today is simply one more trial along our road to greatness. The strength of this nation has always been based on trust and brotherhood, the very foundations of friendship and harmony. And it is with the intentions of brotherhood and warmth that the Office of the President stands behind the liberties and the freedoms of the citizens of this great nation. All of its citizens."

And with that, McGoff stepped away from the podium, allowing Smitts to step up and close the rather brief speech. But it did not matter, for the entire room had erupted in shouted questions and the flashes of cameras.
> Mr Hyde
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was so quiet now.

Before, the roar of the crowd had filled the air, and the searing pain of an unholy presence had tainted his mind and his thoughts. But it was quiet now, everything was calm. A sense of almost unknown serenity wrapped around his body and mind like a dark, warm blanket, shielding him from the tumult of a world in chaos and against his own failure to uphold his duty.

Duty.

What did that word even mean? What did that entail? Was he going to be punished just because he could not control a situation that had become uncontrollable? Did he ever think for a moment when he was younger that he would have the weight of the world resting on his shoulders, constantly shifting and always growing heavier? Did he ever ask to have the responsibility of making sure everyone else in the entire goddamned world was happier than he was? To bear the burden of a billion sins always weighing down on the edge of his mind?

No.

He never asked to be the modern messiah. Yet he was expected to stand strong against forces of the universe that no man had ever been able to comprehend, and to do it with a steadfast smile upon his face. And nobody asked him to face the ultimate darkness as it played his soul like a marionette. Nobody asked him if he would do these things through the kindness of his heart, but instead they forced his hand. Nobody asked him if he would fix all of their problems with a wave of his hand, they just expected him to do it out of their own sense of self-entitlement.

He wasn't a man, he wasn't a holy warrior, a guiding hand sent by some well-meaning deity. No, he was the world's puppet, dancing to the tune of an ungrateful puppetmaster. Those people out there didn't care about him. They didn't care if he suffered or if he bled. And that freak accident that happened, it nearly killed him. He knew it, he knew that the cease of his magical flow had shocked his system just as badly as going cold turkey on heroin. 

And that little nightmare, or whatever it was, sure didn't help his stressed mind.

And as he cracked open his eyes to see the blank, white ceiling of the Undercity's hospital hanging over his head, he entertained a single thought: why should I take this shit anymore?

Aaron leaned up in the hospital bed, aware for the first time that not all was as silent as his nearly comatose state had led him to believe. The steady beep of an electrocardiogram came from beside his bed, and outside the door of his room he could hear nurses passing by and the chatter of medical technology in other parts of the hospital. 

The machine beside his bed let out a continuous beep, flatlining as he yanked off the electrodes stuck on his skin. His feet touched the cold floor, and Aaron sat at the edge of his hospital bed for a moment, holding a hand to his forehead. Things were still foggy, but at that moment he felt a kind of energy pumping through his veins that could only be described as a half shot of adrenaline mixed and slammed down with a half a pep pill. It was not so much a bouncing energy, but rather a sense of confidence, one that could power him through several days worth of bullshit. 

Standing up, he rolled his head on his shoulders, feeling the satisfying pop and crack of the joints in his neck. He wasn't going to wait around for some nurse to show up and try to shoo him back into his bed; he felt too good to just piss this day away. So he strode out of the hospital room and into the halls, his bare feet slapping against the cold tile floor.

He walked with purpose and swaggered down the halls, though he among all people in the hospital that day didn't have a single thing that he needed to do or a single place he needed to be. The Undercity's hospital was almost fuller than it had ever been, due in part to President McGoff temporarily suspending the ban on inter-species healthcare. The rooms and beds were full of ponies and other creatures, bandaged from wounds inflicted by the SWAT, coughing their lungs up from breathing too much of the tear gas, and more than a few were actually suffering from heat exhaustion and dehydration.

But he didn't care, or even bother to notice. The doctors and nurses that scurried through the hallways gave him a wide berth. He didn't know why, but when they took one look at his face, their eyes drifted to the floor and they slid over to the wall, as if they were betas in the presence of the alpha. Was it respect that cleared his way, or was it something else? Either way, he swaggered through the hospital unhindered.

Aaron walked the halls without a real purpose, finally deciding that he should probably find better clothes than the rather breezy hospital gown they stuck him in. Turning a sharp right in a fairly deserted hall, he came to a dead end corridor with a janitor leaning on his mop, his thumb flicking halfheartedly at a lighter as he tried to light the cigarette plugged in his mouth. 

The janitor looked up, realizing he had been caught. "Hey uh, you ain't gonna tell anyone, are ya? I mean, I ain't gonna tell anyone that you're walking around without your nurse. Guy's gotta have his fix, right? One little smoke's not gonna kill anyone around here."

Aaron looked slowly down at the pack of cigarettes and grinned. 

The janitor raised his eyebrow. "Ah, I see what you want." He flicked his wrist and the butt of a smoke popped out of his pack. "Our little secret, eh?"  Without a word, Aaron swiped the whole pack from his hand, easily plugging a cigarette into the corner of his mouth.

The janitor put on an offended and angry look, but he didn't want to speak out against this weirdo. But what really shut his mouth was what came next. Aaron extended a single finger to the wall, swiping his hand down as if he was lighting a match, leaving a charred streak on the wall and lighting the cigarette of the tip of his smoldering finger. 

Aaron took a deep drag, savoring the smoke, though he never smoked more than a pack in his entire life. 

"Tell me," he said, leaking acrid smoke out the corners of his mouth. "What size are those shoes?"

A few short minutes later, he was once again roaming the halls, this time with a new pair of loafers and a set of scrubs he found in a closet. Flicking his spent butt into a corner, he lit another cigarette off his fingertip. And as he wandered the halls, he found himself stopped in front of a large glass window. Inside was something that was more precious to the human race than any hoard of gold or jewels. He leaned close to the window, his hot breath fogging the glass that separated him from the nursery. Several newborn children squirmed in their colored blankets, their eyes not yet open and their bodies not yet used to the world outside their mothers.

He was drawn to that room, to those children. Aaron pressed his forehead against the glass, staring in at the new and innocent life. It should have startled him, it should have shocked him, but he wanted in there . . . badly. He wanted to be in the nursery like a serpent wanted to find its way into a nest of freshly laid eggs. And this pitiful sheet of glass was the only thing standing in his way. He tapped on the glass, taunting the little infants in the nursery. And as soon as his finger touched the window, every child broke out screams and cries. 

They knew something was wrong, in that way that only children can know of danger. And it only excited him. With one good punch he could be through that glass, and the snake could slither its way into the hen's nest. He grinned, chuckling under his breath at their spectacle of futilely crying for help. 

"Hey!"

And with that one word, his focus was torn away from the infants, and he slowly looked up to see the sternest nurse he had ever seen in his life. She glared at him, puffing herself up like the proverbial hen guarding the nest full of her chicks. 

"Visiting hours are over. You'll have to leave before I call security. And if that's a cigarette in your mouth, so help me God you're gonna be in a world of hurt!"

Staring her down like a gunslinger at high noon, the man plucked the smoke from his lips and dropped it to the floor, grinding it out under the heel of his newly acquired shoes, never breaking eye contact with the unusually stalwart nurse. Aaron turned and walked down the hallway, and the nurse took that as a sign of her victory, bustling into the nursery to try and calm each crying child. 

He didn't care about being chased off, he had bigger fish to fry.


*******************************


The office was buzzing with chatter. The news that the pony protest and rally had turned into a riot, the unwarranted arrival of the entire Lazarus garrison of military police and their reaction, the extremely sudden thunderstorm that had been a little too convenient; these true stories ran alongside rumors like marathon runners. Some said that nobody had been killed, others heard from distant fourth-hand sources that the death toll was close to fifty and climbing. The woman in the corner office claimed that she heard that the entire command of the homeland branch of the military was under suspension and review while the guy by the watercooler refuted that; this was obviously an attempted coup d'etat by the Provost Marshal. The fellow who ran the mailroom heartily disagreed, it was a joint decision by the Terran Senate and the President to finally evict the unwanted parasites from Lazarus. And by the time the rumors had run through the entirety of the Undercity's bureaucracy, with so many theories and no factual updates from the surface, word of mouth had twisted the entire story into some kind of conspiracy that involved half the Terran military's commanders and a ground-force invasion by Equestria disguised as a civil rights protest. 

The thunderstorm that managed to mysteriously break up the entire affair was handily discounted as nonsense. 

But Anita didn't care about what she knew to be obviously fanciful rumors. She'd been one of those gossip-girl types back in the twenty-first century, and part of gossip was knowing which stories held at least a tiny grain of truth and which ones were utter crap. It was concern that kept her quiet when everyone else was clamoring for any more details after the office went on temporary lockdown. 

Because unlike the rest of her coworkers, someone she knew and cared about had been up there, and there was no word on what happened to Aaron. All she could do to keep herself from worrying herself into an ulcer was to focus on her work and to try and drown out the incessant chattering around her cubicle with the scratch of her pencil on her latest report. She hadn't looked up in the past four hours, and her neck was killing her. But any small discomfort was worth not hearing all the increasingly grim rumors 

"Psst! Hey, Annie-gal," her neighbor Janet said over the cubicle wall. Anita ignored her. "Anita! Little Orphan Annie!" Still no response came. "I know you can hear me!"

The tip of her pencil snapped, and Anita let out a frustrated groan. Setting her broken pencil down as calmly as she could, she straightened out for the first time in hours and turned to her friend. "What?" she said very quietly and very acidly.

"Jule and I were talking. You know, about what's happening up there." Janet poked a finger up towards the ceiling. "And we kinda figured that if anyone would know what was really going on, it might be you."

Anita was obviously confused. "Why would I know?"

"Wellllllllll, we heard that your boyfriend was up there, doing his thing, and we also had a bit of a theory that maybe you and him . . . how to say this? That you and him are . . . bonded. Like you can hear each other's thoughts or something."

"Where would you get a crazy idea like that?"

Janet shrugged. "Every single wizard story ever. Dude's like the modern Merlin, isn't he? I heard that he teleports everywhere, and that he rides a flying carpet or something."

Anita covered her face in frustration. "I've never seen him teleport anywhere. And even if he did, why would he need the carpet?" She snatched another pencil from the coffee mug near her lamp, getting back to work on her latest report. "Besides, there's no room for me in his mind." That last part was too quiet for Janet to hear, and it hurt to say. 

Even when he was looking in her eyes and holding her hand, he was never truly there. Though he was close enough to feel the warmth of his body on her own, his mind was always a million miles away. There were times when she literally had to shout his name just to get him to acknowledge her presence, even if he was looking right at her. It was understandable at times, but ever since that nightmare had him thrashing in bed and screaming a name that she never heard outside of church, his aloofness had taken a darker turn.

He was agitated, shifty, constantly darting his eyes in every direction as if he was afraid of being watched. And though he didn't seem to notice in the slightest, he had bags under his eyes every day, like he was afraid to go to sleep anymore. Maybe he was afraid of letting his guard down. But whatever it was, paranoia, sleep deprivation, some kind of depression, or even the rampant post traumatic stress that plagued many humans in Lazarus, it was hurting their relationship.

And the absolute worst part of it all? He refused to talk about it. He had spoken more to Lyra than he had to her the last time she went to his house. She was trained in human psychology, and yet he didn't say a word about what was bothering him to one of the few people who might be able to help him. Anita looked down at her current case file, and realized that she had been absently staring at the blank form for the last five minutes. 

Sighing to herself, she set down her pencil and tried to reorient her thoughts, to drive out the worries and the constant chatter all around her cubicle. All of this stress was pushing her towards a migraine, though she hadn't had one in months. Grabbing a few pills from the bottle in her drawer, she paused when she reached for her water bottle. Sitting next to her bottle of water was a tenacious little peace lily that she had been her gift at the office Christmas party last winter. And before her very eyes, the plant that had endured a life without sunlight and hardly any water was wilting. The single, delicate white flower with its bowl-shaped petal was curling in on itself, coming together and retracting all of its leaves.

As if it was hiding from something.

Anita felt eyes on her back, and a chill ran down her spine. She turned in her chair, and was greeted by the unsmiling face of her lover. 

"Aaron!" she shouted, clasping a hand over her heart. "You startled me." She regained herself, realizing that something was amiss. "I . . . I thought you were at the rally."

"I was," he replied in a cool, low voice. "I had some time to think, and I got to thinking about you." His eyes, shot with several lines of red, drifted down from Anita's face and began to approvingly look over her every line and curve. Anita felt naked under his gaze, and she subconsciously tensed as he looked her over. "Come on, let's go for a little walk. You and me, a little time alone."

It was only after she broke herself away from his seemingly hypnotic gaze that she realized what he was wearing. "Why are you in scrubs? And what's that around your wrist?"

Aaron glanced at his left arm, noticing the wristband containing all his basic medical information. In his sojourn from his hospital bed, he had never bothered to notice it there, much less take it off. He summoned just the tiniest flow of magic to the tip of his finger, and without needing to think about a spell, the wristband turned to dust. "Nothing," he said coldly in reply. 

Normally, she would just say that she was busy, that she couldn't take the time out of her schedule right this moment to accommodate him. But those eyes, just glancing into them cowed any excuse she had into submission. It was as if he was looking past her, through her, and deep down into the depths of her soul. 

Can he do that? Anita asked herself. Of course not, that was preposterous. Wasn't it?

Though she still had a mound of paperwork left, she felt compelled, almost against her will, to stand. She rose slowly from her chair, feeling a kind of meekness and apprehension that she had never felt in Aaron's presence before. Though his aloofness was disheartening, he always exuded an aura of comfort and safety. But she had never felt so scrutinized and vulnerable in her entire life.

Swallowing down the lump in her throat, she looked him in the eye. He smiled to her, looping an arm around her shoulders and very harshly pulling her close. 

"Let's go," he whispered to her. 

By now the whole office was watching quietly. Janet was peering over the cubicle wall, but when Aaron turned his glaring gaze her way, she shrank back into her chair. And it was only after the pair had left that Janet realized she had been clutching the crucifix that hung around her neck.


***************************


"Where are we going?" Anita finally asked after several minutes of seemingly aimless wandering. 

"Not important," Aaron murmured back. His eyes were set straight forward, never shifting to either side. 

If it wasn't that important, Anita couldn't understand why he had to keep dragging her through the empty hallways. She made her stand, and stopped in the middle of the hall. Aaron continued a few steps, seemingly unaware. Until he peered over his shoulder. 

"Why did you stop?" he asked.

Anita broadened her stance, folding her arms under her bosom and putting on her most commanding face. "If where you want to go isn't important, and if you have something to say to me, you can say it right here."

"Fine," he said quietly. Turning back towards her, he stepped very close to Anita, close enough to where she could feel the unusual heat of his body. "I wanted to take a little walk with you, that's all. Is it too much to fucking ask that I get a little alone time with my woman?" There was anger in his voice, something that Anita had never truly heard. 

Anita stood her ground. "What are you talking about? We get plenty of time alone together."

"Really?" he replied sarcastically. "Every time we go anywhere together, it's in public. Every time we're together, you have to make sure there's as many people as you can possibly find hovering over our shoulders. We go out to eat, it's always a cafe with a table on the sidewalk. You come to my house, you have to have Lyra in the room with us. I want to have an evening alone with you; instead we go out to the most public bar in Lazarus."

"Aaron, please-"

"It's like you don't want to be alone with me!" He was almost shouting at that point. "Better yet, it's like you're showing me off. I feel like you're parading me around, showing me off to the whole world like a little dog that you keep in your goddamned purse. And the worst part?" He leaned even closer, looming tall over Anita. "The absolute worst part is that this little dog never even gets petted. No praise or reward for this little bitch, eh?"

Anita trembled. "Please, I never said-"

"Of course you never said anything. But I can feel it, and I don't even need to look in your mind to tell. So why don't you just put it out there in the open? Why don't you just say it?" he hissed.

"Say what! I-I don't know what you're talking about!" she stuttered. 

"Am I your little dog to be showed off in public, your little fucking toy to be showed off to all the other kids and tossed in the corner when you get home? Or is it something else?"

He was only inches from her face, and she was close to tears. "Aaron, please, you're scaring me." 

For the first time that day, he smiled, and he chuckled lowly. "Is that it? I scare you, don't I? The very thought of me terrifies you, doesn't it? Are you afraid of me?" He held up his hand, and the spark of magic leaped from his fingers like a green flame. "Or are you afraid of this?"

"Aaron, please," Anita practically whispered in fear. "If there's something wrong, we can talk. Please just tell what's wrong."

The flickering magic that danced around his fingers snapped out, vanishing at his own insistence. "What's wrong? What's wrong? Anita, sweetheart, there's not a damn thing wrong with me. In fact, I feel a hundred feet tall." To her visible relief, he backed a step away. "I was in the hospital not too long ago, and I had a sudden revelation, a huge epiphany that changed my life! I realized that I've been literally everyone's bitch. My entire life since we woke up has been me bending over and taking it from one person after another. Everyone in this country thinks I'm the goddamned janitor who has to clean up their messes! And you know what my epiphany was? I'm done. I renounce my faith, I'm flipping the bird to my country, and from now on I'm looking out for number one."

Anita took a careful step closer, holding her hands out in an attempt to calm him and show that she meant no harm. "Aaron, this isn't you. The Aaron I know wouldn't back away from helping someone. You're just stressed, you're just scared of all this change around you." Maintaining eye contact, she took a step closer and placed a hand over her heart. "I know, I'm frightened too. I'm frightened of this new world, and I know how you feel. But we can get over this together, if you'll just let me in. Please, Aaron, let me help you."

Her hand delicately touched his troubled cheek, and for a moment the woman almost believed that whatever had caused all of this was fading away. His hand closed around her wrist, and the red tint of rage filled his eyes.

"You think you understand what I've been through? You think that in your entire life you've felt the amount of pain I've felt in a single blinding moment of agony?!" His grip tightened around her wrist, and Anita cried out in pain. "I have died for people like you, I denied heaven for people like you, my soul was stripped of all hope and immersed in complete darkness . . ."

A stream of tears flowed down Anita's cheek. But through her tears, her eyes grew wide. "Aaron," she whimpered, "your nose. . ."

Something warm trickled by the corner of his mouth, and Aaron dabbed his finger into the stream running down his chin. And when he saw the crimson stain of blood on his own finger, his world froze. What had happened in the park, what had brought him to his knees and nearly destroyed his entire body rushed back to him in an overwhelming wave. He remembered now; it was not a dream, it was not a nightmare. All of the pain, the fear, the anger . . . him.

Aaron looked into Anita's eyes, and saw his own reflection in her glasses. A trickle of blood stained his chin like the visceral feast of a hideous beast. And within the reflection of Anita's glasses, he saw his own eyes. An endless void, scorched of any love and any life by the ravages of its own dark fires stared back at him.

And suddenly, so suddenly, it was all so clear. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered, releasing Anita's hand. Anita clutched her injured hand, the bruises already starting to grow around her wrist. 

He summoned as much of his magic as he was willing, and without a word to her, the very fabric of space bent around his body, and he teleported as far away as he could.


***************************************


This would be one of the most difficult days of her life.

Lyra sighed as she scribbled down another line of her withdrawal speech in her notebook, trying to word this as sensitively as she could. There were a hundred little snippets of her argument that she had to consider; dozens of people she had to apologize to, an entire nation's fears to assuage, and one little girl who would have to go a little longer without a mommy.

"No," said an ethereal voice from over her shoulder. Lyra dropped her pen and groaned in frustration, crumpling up the paper and throwing it in a trashcan that had started to overflow with her failed withdrawal speech drafts. 

"What was wrong with that one?" she angrily hissed, picking up her pen with her magic and starting on a fresh page.

The ghostly orb of her legal advisor and deceased attorney ceased his unending path around the desk, facing the mare. He had taken to floating like that once they had hit dire straits, much like he had paced in his life when he needed to think. Lyra's amber eyes stared deep into the swirling depths of the pinprick of light that had come to represent the soul of Clarence Darrow, and though she complimented herself on being able to usually read his emotions and intentions, now she could see nothing but turbulence.

"It was . . . lacking," was all he said before he resumed his pacing.

"Lacking in what?" Lyra retaliated. "Lacking in boldness like the first seven? Or maybe lacking in humility like the four after that? I've jam packed this speech with every bit of sweet-humble-mare that I possible can, and it's still not good enough for you!"

The ghost stopped abruptly, the normally placid whites of his energies flaring red. "It is not me that you have to appease. It is the court, it is the media, it is the people!"

"Then tell me how!" Lyra snapped. "All you've done for the past two days is pace around and mutter to yourself. I swear, if you had feet you'd have worn a hole through the carpet by now." The ghost growled something to himself, resuming his endless track around the desk. Lyra glared at him. "That's not an answer."

Finally he stopped after two more rounds. "I have been trying to think."

"About what?"

"Ways out of this," the ghost replied, resuming his path. 

"What do you mean? This is our way out. If I go in there and say that I withdraw my petition and then they toss out my case, then nobody is any better or any worse off. When I say to Chief Justice Halliburton, "Madam Chief Justice, I withdraw my case" it's all back to square one for everypony in Lazarus. Nobody wins."

"And everyone loses." Mr Darrow swooped down in front of Lyra, hovering over her latest speech to inspect her work.

Lyra sighed, leaning back into the cushiony embrace of Aaron's sparsely used office chair. She knew he was right. She knew that the moment she withdrew her case, everything would go back to the way it had been before she set hoof in Lazarus, then it would go back another ten steps. All of the progress that the ponies had made in the arenas of politics and public image, it would all lose its steam and grind to a halt. After the riot, the human populace of Lazarus would find any reason to have the ponies evicted, and without any political influence or popular power, they almost certainly would get their wish. Without a definitive legal victory, or even some kind of visible gain or agreement, there would be no follow through with the civil movement.

But she couldn't think about any reason why Clarence was so adamant about finding a way to come out on top, though there was no way to come about this except empty handed. 

"You know, when you were out there looking for some kind of answers from the spirits, I read a little on you. You were the kind of person who never really lost, though you lost your fair share of court cases. Attorney for the Damned; it's a good name for you. The damned looked for you because you could always win, even if it wasn't a complete win. You'd get charges dropped, juries swapped, even declare mistrials if it meant victory."

The ghost's essence shifted from its bright white to a warier gray. "What is your point?"

Lyra leaned forward in her chair, folding her hooves together. "I'm wondering why you're still trying. Is it because you sympathize with my case, even though I'm just a talking animal to you? Or is it because you have a god breathing down your neck? Is Big Momma gonna chew your ass if you go back to her without a good report card? Or are you still helping me because you want a perfect track record?"

"What are you talking about?" the ghost replied in an agitated tone.

"You never lost a case because you always wanted to win! If you did anything short of miraculous, it would make your reputation look like crap! You're still here because you think that I'm another hard puzzle for you to solve that'll just bump up your reputation even after you've been long dead!"

The cautious gray flared an angry red. "I am not here because of some juvenile lust for achievement! I lived my life believing that there was some justice in a world that seemed so cruel; believing that a man did not have to suffer life with the injustices that his fellows laid upon him. I wanted to see a world where men received only what they deserved, not what other men desired for them." His angered red glow began to fade, as did his his volume and tone of voice. "Before even Mother Earth sent me back, I saw your people being mistreated and abused in this country, though they had done no wrong and their ancestors had paid back their debts in blood and sweat. You and your kind were not getting what they deserved; there was no justice for the four legged citizens of Terra. I am not a perfectionist, Lyra, I am merely a man who wants fairness for all people above all things."

Lyra felt inches tall. Of all the possibilities of why he continued to scratch for hope of gaining the creatures of Lazarus some kind of foothold, a pure motive had not occurred to her. From her experiences with mankind, there were no pure hearted actions; they always had an ulterior motive.

"I'm sorry," she said, her head hung low and her ears lying flat on her head in shame. "It's just-"

"You don't have to explain yourself. Many people have questioned why I defended them, even if their case and cause seemed utterly hopeless."

She could have sobbed, she could have hugged him if there was something to hug, but right now there was work to do. "I uh . . . I would like your opinion on this opening statement here." She indicated the first paragraph of her latest speech draft. 

The ghost peered down at the paper, and for the first time that night she could see some kind of satisfaction in his swirling energies. "Much better," he said after several moments of scrutiny. "Though I would replace 'constituency' with 'like-minded people'."

Lyra nodded. "I knew I was using that word wrong. But I'm more concerned about this fourth paragraph here, where I address the Justices -- Clarence?" Her spectral legal counselor had gone silent. "Clarence? What's up?" She waved her hoof in front of what she believed to be his face.

"Something is wrong," the ghost murmured. 

And barely a moment later, Lyra felt the tingle of magic flow through the air, but it was not coming from her, nor anyone in the house. The entire building shook as a thunderous boom! erupted from the front of the house. Lyra ducked under the desk, seeking cover from the hail of books falling from their shelves. She covered her head with her hooves, expecting the rest of the house to collapse around her or a gigantic fireball to blast through the doorway.

But no such thing came, and she carefully peeked out from under the desk. "Holy Tartarus, that was a loud one."

"A loud what?" Clarence asked from the safety of her diamond earring. 

"That was a teleport spell," Lyra explained. "I could feel it in my horn. Either that was someone's first teleport ever, or whoever just teleported into the kitchen doesn't know how to make his spells quieter."

"Could it be a burglar?"

"I don't know," Lyra whispered back. Grabbing a potted plant with her magic to use as a weapon, the mare crept carefully to the door of the study. And as she reached for the handle with her teeth, another bang! came from the front of the house. But this time she could tell that it was no teleportation spell; it sounded more like furniture being thrown and smashed against the wall. She'd never heard of a burglar who completely smashed up a house, but she'd heard that star sugar junkies would break into buildings and go on a destructive rampage. Holding her potted plant close, she carefully walked down the hallway.

The crashes and bangs continued as she crept as quietly as her hooves would allow towards the dining room. Whoever was in her dining room, he obviously was in some kind of a rage. The thought crossed her mind that it might be a smarter idea to go and get help, but she dismissed that. 

The mare and her improvised weapon stopped right outside the doorway to the dining room, all the noise from the room stopped. Steeling herself, Lyra pushed the dining room door open and peered inside. Her cursory glance gave her a vision of a room ravaged by a force of nature, as if a tornado had twirled from the sky and into her house, picking up anything in its way and casting it aside like a dollhouse's accoutrements. The table and its accompanying chairs were all piles of splinters pushed against the walls, the china cabinet and its contents lay shattered on the floor in a hazardous field of debris, even the light fixture hung haphazardly from the ceiling, swinging lazily from a single cord.

And in the middle of the ravaged room, sitting with his knees hugged to his chin, sat Aaron.

Lyra breathed a sign of relief, setting down her impromptu weapon. "Hey buddy," she said carefully, taking a slow step into the room. "You decide to redecorate a little?" He remained unresponsive, staring straight forward in the most introverted look that she had ever seen. Lyra edged closer. "Aaron?" For good measure, she carefully prodded him with a hoof.

He exploded into motion, scuttling away from Lyra until his back was to the wall. And when she looked upon his unobstructed face, she could only whisper the words, "By Celestia's grace . . ."

His chin was black with a stream of dried blood that had dried and crusted over. His skin was paler than any ghost she had ever seen. But what would haunt Lyra about that day the most was the look in his eyes. Shot with red, they reflected back to her an image of a primal terror, of a soul in turmoil and a mind cast into a realm of unknown eldritch horrors. It was as if he had seen a vision of war and slaughter so scarring that he reverted to the state of a wild beast, terrified by even the slightest gesture of humanity.

"Stay away from me," he finally managed to choke out of his trembling lips.

"What happened to you?" she asked quietly. She took another step closer.

"NO!" he shrieked, violently pushing himself farther away from her. "Please, I don't want to hurt you."

"You're not going to hurt me, and I'm not going to hurt you," she said comfortingly. "Now stay right there." She quickly dashed out of the room, grabbing a washcloth from the bathroom and soaking it in warm water. Within a minute, she was once again approaching him cautiously, holding her damp rag out wide with her magic. She crooned to him and shushed him like a scared foal or a wild animal, but the madness and the distance never seemed to leave his eyes as she carefully wiped away the dried blood.

She finally built up the courage to ask again, "What happened to you?"

His haunted eyes found her face, and he whispered to her, "I hurt people. People I didn't know, people I loved, people . . . that you love." His gaze grew distant, as if he was remembering some crime that he had committed. "Lyra, I need to ask you something."

"What?" She gently dabbed at his chin, clearing away a thin clot of blood.

"I need to speak to the dead man you've been hiding from me."


*************************************


It had taken nearly ten minutes for Lyra to convince the ghost of Clarence Darrow that their cover had long since been blown, and that there would be no deportations or exorcisms if he showed himself to Aaron. He was in no sort of mind to be engaging in such a delicate and precise practice anyways. By the time the mare and her attorney came back to Aaron's scene of destruction, he had begun to scrawl a picture on the dusty floor. It was little more than a poorly drawn caricature of his own face, but with horns sprouting from his head, and a pair of crude fangs protruding out of his wickedly smiling mouth.

Glancing up from his macabre drawing, he wiped it away with a wave of his hand. There was no recognition, no anger, no emotional reaction at all to seeing the ghost that had been haunting his house.

But his eyes imparted some strange energy, one that made the ghost's spectral energies tremble and shift to a wary grey. "You wished to speak with me?"

Aaron nodded slowly. "Yes," he replied quietly.

Clarence shifted nervously, not wanting to provoke or anger him. "And what is it that you wanted to speak to me about?"

Aaron's gaze drifted back down to the floor, where his finger began to lazily trace in the dust left by his outburst. "Do you remember, not so long ago, not far from here . . . something happened."

The ghost's energies soothed to a cool white. "Legion," he murmured. "You and I, we were one. The two of us, and billions of others, all in the same body. Yes, I remember. And how could I forget . . ."

"That's not all that happened." Aaron looked up from his drawing. "We became the host for something. Something dark, something cruel, something evil."

The ghost recoiled at the very hint of that foul thing. "Lucifer."

Aaron nodded once again. "And the Elements of Harmony destroyed it. The hole in our hearts was filled; love triumphed. Didn't it?" His last words were filled with doubt, and there was a hint of moisture in the corners of his eyes.

"What do you mean?" Clarence asked.

"Did harmony triumph? Please, you're from the Other Side, you have to know. You have to tell me!" Aaron snapped out his hand, grasping the flickering spirit orb and holding it as easily as he might hold a ball.

"Tell you what!" Clarence shouted, twisting and writhing in Aaron's grasp.

"Just tell me!" Aaron screamed. "Are my nightmares just bad dreams! Are my thoughts my own! Why can't I hear the gods! Why . . . why did I want to hurt the children in the nursery?" Aaron's fingers fell limply away, and the ghost found himself free. Aaron curled in on himself, a stream of tears flowing down his cheeks. "I-I didn't want to. I don't remember it all, but I hurt people. I hurt people just because . . . just because they got in my way." He peered up, finding Lyra through his tears. "I'm so sorry," he said to her. But Lyra did not reply, and her face seemed frozen in an expression of pale horror.

"By all that is holy," Clarence uttered in terror. "It's still alive in you. But-but that cannot be! The Elements struck true! I felt the taint as it was scoured away; I felt the light of creation and harmony as it flowed through all of us! Lucifer cannot have survived!"

Aaron sniffed and leaned up, finally reaching some kind of decision in his own mind. "I have to know." Standing shakily on his feet, Aaron left the dining room, returning shortly with a piece of chalk and a thick leatherbound tome. Setting down his spellbook, Aaron flipped through the pages until he came upon the page he was looking for. Clenching the chalk in his shaky fingers, he began to draw the outline of a runic circle on the floor.

Lyra, who had not said a word throughout the whole exchange, had been too disturbed by what he had said about the nursery to interrupt. But now she had to speak her mind. "Did you really? Did you really want to hurt those children? Did you want to hurt-?"

Aaron stopped his busy work, peering up at Lyra with the most guilt ridden gaze she had ever received. "I don't know. If it wanted them, I don't know that it wouldn't hurt them somehow."

After nearly fifteen minutes of some of the most careless runescripting that he had ever done, Aaron inspected his handiwork. On his dining room floor, surrounded by the debris of his sudden appearance, was a circle roughly six feet in diameter. The outer rim was inscribed with various wards and runes of both protection and alteration. Within the circle, a five-pointed star focused the inert magical flows and each point would act as the template for each of his limbs. 

"That's. . . an inversion circle," Lyra murmured after several moments of inspection. An inversion circle was considered to be one of the most advanced forms of runic application, and one that was strictly monitored by the Crown of Equestria. Any kind of rune was easy to make a mistake on, but this particular combination was only useful for one thing: introspection. Literally inverting someone's consciousness from the outside and placing them inside of their own mind. But it came with its risks; some people returned from inversions mentally scarred from what they had seen in their own souls, others stayed too long and could no longer determine what was real and what was not, still others never returned at all.

"Aaron, think about what you're doing," said Lyra. 

"I've thought about it enough," he replied coldly as he laid down in confines of the circle. 

"Look, whatever this 'Lucifer' thing is, we can get you help! I know a bunch of really good unicorns back in Canterlot, I can get you to a doctor!"

"There's no doctor in the world that can help me!" Aaron snapped. Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself as much as he could. "There's something inside me, something evil. Do you know about Nightmare Moon?" Lyra nodded. "She was the Queen of Night, and what's inside of me was supposed to be the King of the Damned. Nightmare Moon tried to make herself queen of the world; Lucifer wanted to destroy all life. And if I can't find out how he survived and why he's here now, a lot of innocent people could suffer."

Lyra started to object, but as she thought about the implications of allowing something as devilish as Nightmare Moon run rampant, she held it back and nodded. 

"Alright then. You watch the door, make sure nobody comes in here with anything that might screw up the flows." Lyra bit her lip, and nodded. "And you," he said to Clarence, "If things start looking bad, do what you can to pull me out."

"I will do my best," the ghost replied.

Having made all of his preparations and steeled his nerves as much as he could, Aaron laid down fully in the inversion circle. Taking a deep breath, he once again considered the possibilities. I could just be post-traumatic, he thought to himself. I could just be crazy. But he dismissed that; he had to know. 

Summoning a strong flow of magic, he directed it through the circle of runes that lay around his body. The streams of his arcane energy were seized by the runic letters, and once primed with a small amount of his own power, they would do the rest. He took one final deep breath to calm himself as the runes began to glow with mystic lights.

Aaron rested his head at the point of the pentacle, and felt the magic of the circle seep into his body, gently caressing him into a soothing calmness. Deeper and deeper it worked its way into his body, until it grasped at the very depths of his soul. And all at once, it began. Aaron felt a sharp tug, not on his body, but on his spiritual essence. I must not fight it, he thought to himself. The pull of runes grew stronger, tugging on the center of his soul until it pained him. But he did not resist the invasive pull, and he soon realized that he could not feel his fingers, or his toes, or any part of his body for that matter.

The world began to shiver, the very fabric of reality trembling before his very eyes. And as all the world collapsed down to one single shining point of light in the ether and the mists of his own inner consciousness began to swirl around him, Aaron hoped and he prayed that he was just going crazy. 


***************************


The mists parted, and the shadows began to lift. Flat on his back, Aaron stared at an empty twilight sky, one strangely devoid of stars and moons, yet giving off enough unearthly light to cast shadows in the forest around him.

Leaning up on his elbows, he surveyed the land around him. "So this is what it looks like in here," he murmured. The grass was softer than a cloud under his hand, and the trees stretched onwards towards the unseen horizon. Each tree was unique, with its own patterns of bark and shape of leaf. Some were trees that he passed by every day back before the War, others were things that he could only imagine of existing. But each and every one was spread evenly, uncrowded by its fellows.

Standing up, Aaron felt a wave of vertigo hit him, and he steadied himself before taking a cautious step forward. "Christ," he muttered as he almost fell onto his face. Struggling to stay standing, he thought about leaning against a nearby tree for support. And as soon as the thought entered his mind, his hand felt the rough bark and the solid mass of an elm. Breathing a sigh of relief, he realized that things were a little odd about this place. "Wait a minute, weren't you just over there?" he asked the tree, pointing over to a space that was now occupied by a bushy apple.

The tree did not respond. Aaron scrutinized this helpful oddity of his own mind, wondering if it was some living thing, some tiny being that made up a part of a greater whole. The leaves shook in the breeze, and they seemed to whisper comforting things to him, things that made him feel safe, things that cloaked him in a sense of serenity. The tree was speaking to him in a language that could only be understood through feeling, a language of devoted love that required no words.

Aaron looked at the rough surface of the tree's bark under his fingers, and for the first time saw what the tree wanted him to see. Under his outstretched fingers lay some kind of seam, a line of puckered bark that was about a foot long. He glanced up at the branches and the leaves, seeking some kind of sign from this mysterious entity. It communed with him, for it was a part of him, and he understood what it wanted. 

Placing his hands on either side of the seam, he gently opened the division. There was no crack and shattering of bark, it parted easily, like a curtain. And cautiously he peered inside, into the mass of swirling colors on a liquid screen as they resolved.

Within the images in the bark, a woman stood on a whitewashed porch just outside the open door to her home. A quilt hung around her narrow shoulders and shielded her from the night's chill. She was a homely woman with a round face and stringy brown hair. She stood quietly on the lonesome porch, listening intently. And from the darkness of the late winter's night, a single high pitched chirp came to her. The woman smiled. "Aaron!" she called out. For a moment, he believed that she was speaking to him through the veil of time, but his certainty was quelled when he saw a child, no older than three or four, come out of the house. 

"Yes, Mama?" the little boy said.

"Come here, I want you to hear this." His mother opened up her quilt, bundling her young son in its warm embrace. "Now listen carefully," she whispered to him. The two sat down on the steps, and together they listened. Many moments passed, but again the trilling chirp came from far out in the night.

"What is it?" the little boy asked.

His mother smiled. "It's a spring peeper. They're the first sign of spring, and soon lots and lots of them will all sing together. Then the birds will all come back to their homes, and the daffodils will start to bloom. And then winter will finally be over."

The boy's smile was full of wonder and fascination, and together with his mother, they listened to the first signs of spring and the return of life. Aaron stared long into the long-forgotten memory, one of the happiest moments he had ever spent at his home. That night, so many centuries ago, all the worries of the world seemed to vanish as the peepers promised that the cycle of life was being renewed. There was no indifference, no sorrow, no anger, only wonder.

Aaron stepped back from the tree. "You . . . you're a memory. A damn good memory. But then, what are all these?" He peered back over his shoulder, looking at the endless expanse of other trees. Picking out another one nearby, he carefully walked over, making sure to maintain his footing, and opened the seam in that one's bark. Inside the swirling mists, the vision of a younger Aaron, though much older than the little boy from the elm, sat in a cramped little desk, half asleep during an particularly dull reading of Hemingway in an English class. "They're placeholders," he realized. "Just moments in time that I lived through." They were little more than that, simply moments of his life that had little to no significance or sentimentality. They were not good moments like the friendly elm, nor bad memories like . . . he didn't actually know, or want to know, what a horrifically bad memory looked like.

But as he looked around at all of the tens of thousands of memories, each of them calling to him in their own voice, each one tugging at his heart and tickling his curiosity, he understood why some people chose to never leave once they came to this place in their own mind. He didn't know how many hours he had simply stared past the thin veil of memory into that cold spring's night so many centuries ago. He felt the elm calling him again, and he felt it shift in his subconscious to stand once again next to him. It wanted to bond, but Aaron realized that the tree was only a small part of himself, that it was a memory of a happier time, that it was his own will desiring to live again in a world with no worries.

"No," he said, stopping the tree. "No! I . . . I want to, but I can't. There's something here that is hurting all of you, all of us! This whole place, all of you and every part of us, it'll all die unless I can stop it! I need you to help me. I need you to show me where he is."

The elm tree shivered, as if a breeze were rattling its leaves. And after a few moments, all the other leaves on all the other trees began to rattle to the same unmoving breeze. Like soldiers withdrawing their arms in an honor guard, their branches parted, revealing a clear path through the wood. Aaron glanced at the elm tree, and felt an aura of concern and sadness fall over it. With a nod to the elm, he started down the cleared trail.

He walked for what seemed like hours, though with the odd flow of time in his mind, it seemed like had trudged through that forest of dreams and memories for lifetimes. As he trudged through years of his own lifetime, he would hear things, voices from his past, snippets of places and people who were long gone. 

They spoke of the moments of his life where he had known happiness, where he had felt safe and comfortable. But as he neared the trail's end, somewhere deep within the tangle near his id, the shadows of his mind began to play their tricks. From the corners of his eye Aaron would spy a fleeting shadow ducking behind the trunks of trees. They always stayed just out of sight, but he knew they were there. The trees surrounding the path had become less regal and more feral; their branches reached for his clothing like bony fingers, and their leaves were splotched with some kind of blight. The grass was no longer as soft as a cloud, now it was brown with decay, and its razor edges nearly sliced through his skin. This was a poisoned land, and the more pronounced the blight, the closer he knew he was. 

Finally, the forest ended. Before Aaron stood a wrought iron fence, the metal blackened and scorched, each rod jutting up like the spear of a warrior of chaos. And beyond that barrier of twisted black iron lay a still and silent forest of gravestones, ringing a lonely hill that was topped with a grey and solemn mausoleum. A gate stood open in front of him, flanked by a pair of snarling stone gargoyles that looked ready to pounce at a moment's notice. Taking a deep breath, Aaron armored himself with the happy memories that had guided him here, knowing that they would protect him better than any steel. Without any more preparation, he stepped through the gate and into the graveyard guarded by the wicked gargoyles.

Peering around, he looked for any sign of danger. The gargoyles didn't spring to life to attack, no zombies were rising from their graves, and none of the creatures lurking in the shadows dared to show themselves.

"I expected better from you!" he shouted into the empty graveyard. Only silenced answered him. "Show yourself!" 

But not all was as quiet as it appeared. Somewhere in the distance came the soft sound of metal plunging into dry dirt. Aaron began to work his way towards the sound, passing by the dusty and moss covered gravestones of unknown habitation. He noticed something as the sound grew louder and louder; not all of the graves were full. Some stood seemingly ready to receive a casket, others looked like they had been freshly exhumed, their caskets torn from the ground and ripped apart. Finally, he came to the end of the row, to one of the oldest gravestones in the cemetery. Already a hole had been dug, but whoever had dug it wasn't quite finished.

The head of a shovel poked out of the hole, flipping a load of dirt onto a pile before diving back in. Aaron's heart raced, and he knelt down to the ground as quietly as he could and kept his eyes on the grave and the gravedigger. His fingers closed around the handle of another shovel. Standing back up, he took one final breath, and peered over the lip of the hole. 

The gravedigger stopped. "Oh, about damn time you showed up. Here, grab a corner and help me lift this son of a gun."

Aaron's blood ran cold, and the shovel fell from his limp fingers. Inside of the exhumed grave, with a shovel in his hands and dirt smeared across his face, was the mirror image of himself. Everything was the same: the same brown hair, the same scar under his left ear, the same faded shirt. The only difference was his eyes. They were the same border between brown and hazel, yet when he looked in them, he could himself drowning in an ocean of oily darkness. 

"Or . . . not," his doppleganger said, grabbing a corner of the freshly dug up casket and lifting it to the edge of the hole. Heaving and grunting, he managed to slide the rest of the coffin out before scrambling out himself. Taking a moment to wipe his brow, the gravedigger sat down on the lid of the casket.

Aaron, pale as a ghost and trembling like a leaf in the breeze, could only utter, "W-w-who are you?"

The gravedigger grinned. "So he does speak after all. For a moment I thought you were just another one of them." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards an empty coffin. "You kinda caught me at a bad time here, I haven't had much time to renovate this heap. If you woulda given a little warning, I coulda spiffed up the place a bit."

Aaron regained a little bit of his color, and he asked more boldly, "Who are you?"

"Of course, how does one tidy up a cemetery? I do like the whole motif of death and gloom, and it's just so hard to find good renovators in this place. I mean, I could hang some new drapes on the mausoleum, but what would that accomplish?" the gravedigger said to himself, completely ignoring Aaron.

"Who are you!" Aaron screamed at the gravedigger, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and lifting him bodily. 

The gravedigger laughed in his face. "So weak, so pitiful. So violent, so easy," he taunted.

Aaron released his doppelganger and took a step back. Those words had come to him before, during a moment of agonizing pain and sorrow. And the monster that had spoken those words stood right in front of him. "You're him. You're . . . Lucifer."

The Demon King rolled his eyes. "Well who'd you expect, the Easter Bunny? Wait-wait-wait, I got a better way to say it!" His eyes grew wild, and Lucifer grinned like a madman. "I'm Bad Aaron, and you're Good Aaron. You're Goody Little Two-Shoes!" he said mockingly. "Little Goody Two Shoes! Little Goody Two Shoes! Little Goody Two Shoes!" he sang, adding a little dance to his already farcical routine. "Get it, Little Goody Two Shoes? Army of Darkness? Come on, you watched that movie like twelve times!" He roared in maddened laughter once more.

Aaron snarled at the monster. "I'd love to finish the scene, especially the part where I put shotgun to your chin and blow your goddamned head off!" he angrily growled.

A pitiful frown sank onto the mocking demon's face. "Awww, are you still mad about that whole 'unfathomable torments on both mind and soul' thing? Because I'm totally over it."

"I'll kill you for everything you've done to me!" 

Lucifer's smile only grew wider. "So, you think you can hurt me? You think you got what it takes to bring the giant down?" He spread his arms out wide. "Come on champ, hit me with your best shot. Throw me a haymaker to the gut, conjure up that little shotgun you were just talking about and jam it right here in my pretty face. See what happens when you pull the trigger."

And Aaron did just that. He summoned a small magical flow, and though the flows were much wilder here in his own mind and using any kind of magic was dangerous, he brought up the mental image of a shotgun, a sawed-off double barrel, and pointed it right at his inner demon's nose. With rage pushing his actions, he pulled the trigger.

Lucifer took two barrels of buckshot to the face, and he was knocked back several feet. He immediately covered his ruined face with his hands, wailing and screaming with what was left of his mouth. For a moment, Aaron truly believed that he had conquered one of the greatest evils to ever walk the Earth. But Lucifer's screams of pain soon turned to laughter. Aaron's heart sank, and Lucifer sat up, his face completely unscathed. 

"Did you really think it would be that easy?" the dark one asked casually. "Of course you did, you're one of those types that thinks that friendship and rainbows can stop something that has all the powers of shadow at his command."

"They did!" Aaron shouted angrily, throwing his useless weapon away. "The Elements of Harmony defeated you and all your friends! I felt you get burned out of existence, I heard your last scream, I heard you scream her name and beg for her forgiveness!"

Lucifer climbed back to his feet. "Poor, dear sweet Aaron, you don't yet realize just what you're dealing with, do you? I know what you've been thinking: how could that devilishly handsome fellow have possibly survived getting hit by a rainbow made of friendship? Look around you, what do you see?"

Aaron didn't bother to look. "A bunch of graves. Maybe an empty plot to bury you in."

Lucifer chuckled. "This is the place where you bury your emotions. A hundred graves containing a hundred memories and emotions that you pretend don't exist." The gravedigger waved his hand, and the moss on the nearest gravestones crumbled away. Carved onto the headstone that Lucifer had recently exhumed was a single word: Rage. And on the headstone next to it in the row, Lust. And beside that, Doubt.

"I didn't even have to dig very much to get that old boy out of the hole. The same was true for so many others. It took me months to gather enough strength to scrape through the dirt of your deep subconscious and weakly drink on your buried frustrations and angers. But I've grown strong on the fat of your buried emotions, Aaron. The Elements were just a setback, once I'm done digging up all of these graves, I'll be strong enough to reclaim what's rightfully mine."

"And you aren't strong enough as it is? What's holding the mighty and powerful Lucifer back?" Aaron taunted.

The table had turned, and Lucifer snarled back. Grabbing the front of his shirt, he tore it away with flourish. Underneath was a thick padlock resting on his sternum, with a pair of prismatic chains looping around his torso and binding him. Their colors constantly shifted, and Aaron could tell that they caused Lucifer no small amount of pain. "The chains of binding, cast by the Elements as they destroyed my power. They did it to Discord, but as time proved, it was only an inconvenience. Once I harness the power of all the chaotic thoughts and memories here in this little head of yours, I'll have everything I need."

"Everything you need to do what?" Aaron demanded.

Once again, Lucifer smiled with that mocking and taunting smirk. "Wouldn't you like to know. And you know what? Maybe I will tell you." Lucifer's sudden burst of movement was a blur, and within a split second he held Aaron by the shirt and stared deep into his eyes. "Take a look," he hissed. Aaron struggled. "I said LOOK!"

Aaron tried to look away, but he found that he could not. His eyes were a reflection of his own, but he felt drawn into them, and he saw his own reflected self struggling like a bug drowning in ink. He stared into the depths of his ancient enemy's soul, and the abyss stared back. He tried to break wrench Lucifer's hands away, but the blackened soul had the strength of ten men flowing through his veins. Aaron felt his own strength fade away, and the will of the Darkener seep into his body.

Lucifer released him, and Aaron stood petrified by the will of his dark mirror image. "Look at you now. Helpless, completely vulnerable to my whim. You think you're so strong. You think that you have the strength of your precious Mother on your side! And why shouldn't you? You think that your god whispers truth into your ear, she tells you that perfection is unattainable. She tells you that peace and hope and harmony are the true path. But she is wrong!" Lucifer screamed in Aaron's face. His face grew wilder, and the touch of madness crept into his eyes. "I . . . I have seen perfection, and I was born from perfection! Before your god was born, before the stars, before the universe itself, there was the Abyss. An endless plane of beautiful shadow, an eternal existence where time and the laws of matter and energy did not exist! Nothing could come together, nothing could create light. It was a universe of perfect chaos, and at the moment that your precious cosmos erupted from its singularity, perfection . . . was lost. As the universe expanded, the Abyss was set to flame, perfection was tainted by . . . order." He said the word with a shudder, as if the very concept of harmony sent chills down his spine. "First came the waves of energy. Energy turned into particles, particles turned into atoms, atoms into molecules, all producing light and heat and pain into the Abyss. By the time the first of the Star Fathers began to coalesce, the Abyss had lost too much ground to simply ignore. Before there were no boundaries, no limitations, no concept of these things! Matter and energy came as finite things, though infinite they seemed! Order marched on chaos, harmony defeated discord, and the Abyss was shattered. The Abyss, with its last dying gasps, sent shards of itself into the hated cosmos, for it knew that the embers of chaos still smoldered, and that it would only take a little breath to rekindle them."

Lucifer spun on his heels, shouting into the empty graveyard, "And we were right! The perfect chaos of the Abyss may have left us, but this flawed existence, this universe presented so many opportunities for the chaotic powers to survive! The shards of chaos waited for their opportunities, and across infinite worlds and infinite planes and infinite realities, we found our opportunities to push back! I was one such shard of chaos, floating helplessly in the ether, dreaming of the perfection that had been tainted . . . until I found it."

Aaron fought against the immobility, working both body and mind to release himself from the madman's power. But Lucifer, so engrossed in recounting his own existence, held strong. "I found a world in constant struggle, a place where the imposed balance of the gods could so easily be tipped. I saw a race of creatures, raised over millions of years to be the righteous soldiers of harmony, and I knew I had found my opportunity to strike back at harmony. I waited, and I watched. I extended my touch whenever I could, and I watched empires fall and civilization collapse because of it. I whispered into the minds of kings and priests, and I planted thoughts of anger and hatred into their hearts. And when the time came, when you and I joined in both flesh and in spirit, I inherited their anger and their fury. But I did not destroy your societies, Aaron. I made them STRONGER! Gaia made them weak, and I made them strong once again!"

"You're a liar!" Aaron managed to say through his shadow bindings. "Human beings aren't your pawns! We will never belong to you!"

Lucifer stopped his soliloquy, and turned to face Aaron. "Is that so? Tell me, who gave knowledge to Adam and Eve? Was it their loving and beneficent God? No. It was the serpent who opened their minds and gave them knowledge." Lucifer reached into the pocket of his pants, and withdrew a shiny red apple with a single bite taken out of the fruit's flesh. "Knowledge of good and evil, knowledge and power. Tell me, Aaron, who told you how to build Project Lucifer? Was it your beloved Mother? Who told you how to bring me into this world?"

Aaron felt a memory surge into his head. It was like the memory intrusions that plagued him in the waking world, but the tinge of black at the edges of his vision told him clearly that this was one of Lucifer's memories. It was a vision of himself, two thousand years earlier, bent over a twisted mass of metal and wires that would one day become mankind's deadliest weapon; a weapon that had nearly caused the extinction of all humanity. He worked without rest, and when his hands faltered, the ashen hand of Lucifer himself guided his hand and mind in completing the greatest of weapons.

His heart sank, and the juice of the apple dribbled down his chin.

"That's right. The gods would have you live in ignorance, but it was the serpent who gave you knowledge."

"You used me," Aaron said lowly. "All along, you've been using me."

"Yes," Lucifer said in a much more comforting voice. "I have used you. But I can cut the strings, and set you free. All you have to do is return the favor." A claw-like finger tapped the prismatic lock on his chest. "All you have to do is give me the one thing that every person has denied me." 

For the first time, Aaron looked at the details of the lock and the shackles. The Elements of Harmony had done their work well, and each link was forged from an aspect of harmony, linking strongly with the other links to the chains forged from friendship. The lock was sturdy, sturdier than any lock Aaron had ever seen before. But it was the keyhole that made him pause.

"Love," Aaron whispered in realization as he spied the heart-shaped keyhole. "Love will set you free."

Lucifer nodded. "A day will come when the choice lies before you: the one you love, or the world. And on that day, you will break these chains, and shadow will rise from deep within you and blanket the land. You will set me free, and it will be an act of love."

"No!" Aaron growled.

Lucifer chuckled under his breath. "You know, we came so close there for a little bit. You almost loved that girl, but she was not as into you as you were into her. But she sufficed."

Aaron's jaw fell to his chest. "You. . . you tricked me into falling for Anita?!"

"Yeah. But she wasn't the one though," Lucifer replied nonchalantly. "Besides, it wasn't so hard to 'trick' you, you just need to know how to work with chaos. Let me explain. Chaos, as you so fondly know it, is the act of simplification stemming from the breakdown of complexity. Entropy is what you call it when it happens in nature. Otherwise, you call it destruction. Allow me to demonstrate the active effect of chaos." Lucifer clamped a hand on Aaron's shoulder, and the two shifted away from the graveyard and out into the forest of dreams. Aaron fell to his knees under the boughs of a familiar elm tree. "See this?" Lucifer waved a hand towards the loving elm. "Out there in the real world, this would be a collection of particles that make up atoms, atoms to molecules blah-blah-blah. Millions of cells all working together for the common good of the whole. Kinda makes you all warm and fuzzy inside when you think about it. But watch as I apply just the slightest touch of chaos."

Lucifer held out a single finger, and a tiny flame leaped out from his hand and onto the trunk of the tree. The spark quickly grew in strength as it fed on the bark of the elm. 

"You know why I like fire? Because fire is simple, and it makes everything around it simple. A well placed fire can take such a wonder of harmony like a tree and reduce it to a pile of carbon." Lucifer stepped back and watched with malignant joy in his eyes as the fire climbed the trunk of the tree like a snake and began to slither amongst the branches. 

But Aaron screamed, and in his head he could hear the screams of the elm as the flame of chaos burned it away. The loving memory began to fade as the fires spread. The branches of the tree shook in fear, and the leaves curled in on themselves, dying in the heat of Lucifer's spite. He wanted to leap to its aid, to smother the flames and save what he could, but Lucifer held him there and forced him to watch as one of his most beloved memories was reduced to ash.

He wept as the last dying flames flickered out. 

There was nothing left of that memory. He remembered only that he once remembered it. He searched his mind desperately for any sign as to what this tree had been, but to no avail. It had been burned away, scoured completely from his memory. His tears fell to the ashy soil, and he heard a crackle of static from the charred stump where the elm used to stand. The flickering image of an oddly shaped tree took its place. It was not real like the others, rather, it seemed like it was acting as a stand in. Aaron reached into the memory that this newcomer presented, only to find the memories of some other man who had died thousands of years ago.

"It was you," Aaron murmured through his tears. "You've been burning away my memories. You've been erasing me . . ."

"Oh stop it, you," Lucifer said effeminately. "I only did a little bit of it. You were the one who kept trying to fill in the blanks." Lucifer again clamped his hand on Aaron's shoulder, and the pair shifted back to the graveyard. They appeared in front of the mausoleum at the top of the hill, overlooking all the graves where Aaron had buried his emotions. With a dismissive wave of his hand, Aaron found himself in control of his own body again. He fell down to his knees, where he stayed.

"Why are you doing this to me?" he said in a voice choked with sorrow.

Lucifer knelt down. "I'm cleaning your slate. Once I get rid of all those memories of love and harmony, I can begin to reshape you. Mother can teach you only what she is allowed and limited to teach you in a mortal body. She can teach you to be a great man. But I can teach you to be a god. I can teach you harness your anger, to direct your hatred and channel your fear. Through me, you can touch the Abyss and harness the powers of the time before creation. You will be chaos incarnate, a god made flesh. All will bow before us, and together, we can recreate perfection." Lucifer extended a hand, as if to help Aaron up. The young man glanced at the offered hand, and then to the monster's face. He had shed any semblance of good or fairness, now the ashen skin, the jagged teeth, and the eyes of abyssal fire stared back. "Join me. Join us."

"Join us . . ." A specter stepped out of the shadows, a tall alicorn mare with night-black fur and a flowing mane of the midnight sky.

"Join us . . ." Another creature stepped forward from the mists, a monster cobbled together from the parts of a dozen creatures. His yellow eyes carried the mark of insanity, and his crazed smile sent shivers down Aaron's spine.

"Together . . . " moaned the voices of a hundred souls rising from the graves that surrounded him. The ghosts of his anger, of his rage, sadness, hatred, violence, fear, doubt, shame, envy, greed, and despair, all the emotions he had taught himself to hide away flowed up the hill. 

A hundred bony hands grasped at him, trying to pull him into the graves where Aaron had placed them. A million faces, all the wrongs of his life, stood around him, whispering to take the hand of the dark one. Aaron was drowning, and the hand of Lucifer was the only thing that could save him. There was no light anymore, no beacon to strive towards. There was only the call of the Abyss. 

And as a hundred hands closed around his flesh, the tiniest voice reached through the moans of evil.

Faith, it whispered, have faith in yourself.

"A great man once said . . ." Aaron started. The ghosts of his emotions hesitated. "A great man once said, "It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles. Then the victory is yours. It cannot be taken from you, not by angels or by demons, heaven or hell." "

The fully-fledged demon king flinched. "What?"

The phantoms backed away, and Aaron stood on shaky legs, staring the monster of his nightmares in the eye. "You've always been my greatest mistake. I always thought that I could just hide my true feelings away. But now I've realized that control is more important than pretending they don't exist." 

Behind Lucifer, the doors to the mausoleum shuddered, and slowly the thick stone doors swung open.

"What are you doing?!" Lucifer snarled.

"Putting you where you belong," Aaron said coldly. 

Lucifer's mouth curled up in the slightest smile. "You know, you can't hurt me, but I can punish you with horrors worse than any hell." The abyss of black flame in Lucifer's eyes swelled with anger, and with a roar he tried to gouge Aaron's eyes with his claws. But before he could move, a chain shot out of the darkness of the mausoleum and wrapped around the demon's wrist. Snarling at the inconvenience, Lucifer tried again with his free hand, only to have another chain wrap around his bicep. Pulling taut, the chains began to drag him back into the depths of the crypt. 

The demon king struggled against the tug of the chains against his arms. "Think about what you're doing! Nations would fall like blades of grass!" Another chain shot out of the darkness, wrapping itself around Lucifer's left ankle. Despite the mighty pull, he stayed standing. "I will burn out every memory that you love, and I will make you watch as I rape the innocence of all those you cherish!" Another chain shot out from the shadows and hooked around his right ankle. Lucifer fell to the ground, relenting to the pull of his shackles. He reached out, grasping at the door with his claws. "Please!" he pleaded. "I-I can restore your memories! I can teach how to stop death itself! Please! I . . . I-I know how your pony can win!"

The pull of the chains suddenly ceased. Lucifer breathed a slight sigh of relief, and he dragged himself to Aaron's feet. "Yes, that's right! Just one little sentence, and everything that stands against her will crumble! I'll tell you it all, just don't lock me away in there!"

"Go on," Aaron replied coldly. 

Lucifer grinned. "It's all so simple, stupidly simple! Yes, I know what Mother Earth has been holding back from Liza."

"Lyra!" he angrily corrected.

"Whatever. But she's been looking in the wrong place! Yes, she's been looking in the past, when she should be looking at the present! Now get these chains off me!" Lucifer writhed in his bindings, futilely trying to tear away the chains. All of the calmness and superiority in his voice was gone, and it was replaced with fear and panic. And Aaron could almost say that Lucifer was terrified of the state he was in, bound and helpless, completely vulnerable to anyone with more power than him. 

And that was it. He hated the chains and everything they represented. Strength through unity, a bond forged from chaos and quenched by harmony. He was terrified by the way they limited him, he who had been born from a place where there were no limits. Lucifer was afraid of the chains. 

Aaron looked down pitifully at the creature pathetically pawing at his feet. Only moments ago it had been promising him ultimate power over magic and the universe, and now it was begging to not be put in the dark. "Sorry," he said without any shred of mercy. "But not good enough."

One final length of spiked chain shot out of the darkness, wrapping around Lucifer's throat like a steel python and violently pulling him back into the crypt. But before the doors could close, Lucifer's blackened eyes peered out from the shadows. "You will set me free! And it will be an act of love! You will choose love over the world, Aaron Patterson!" 

The doors of the crypt slammed shut, and the moss fell away from the placard above the door. A placard that named this tomb as the resting place of Regret. 


************************************


It was a long walk back.

He still hadn't mastered the techniques of moving around in his own mind, unlike Lucifer, who seemed to have mastered it to a disturbing degree. But it gave him time to think about what had transpired, what had been said, and what it all meant for his future.

How long had his own inner demon been tramping around in his soul? How many decisions of the past year had been his, and not some small part of Lucifer's diabolical plan? Had he been speaking the truth when he said that he was older than the universe itself? How many years of his own life had been wiped away without him noticing? 

How had he survived?

After what seemed like years of walking through the forest, he came to the place where he believed he had come in. But he couldn't leave yet, he needed some time alone. Imagining a large rock in the middle of the clearing, he sat down and took his head into his hands.

"What do I do?" he whispered to himself. Lucifer was a parasite attached to him in his most vulnerable place, right down in the depths of his heart, leeching off the very emotions that made him a man. There was no fighting him, no gaining ground; Lucifer would grow stronger, while he could only grow weaker. 

Aaron slapped himself, again and again, wanting to wake up in his mildewed apartment and go back to work at the local bank. He would trade away everything he owned, everything he knew just to be a post grad with crippling student loans. He wished he was back in the twenty-first century. Back when he was a loser with a cheating girlfriend, back when there were no talking animals, when there was no magic, no apocalyptic war, no Equestria. Back when he didn't believe in the devil.

And thinking back to those dull and dreary days so long ago, a thought occurred to him: is there a way out? If . . . if he somehow died, what would happen to Lucifer? Would their spirits go separate ways, perhaps his own going on to the next life and Lucifer returning to his beloved Abyss? It hardly seemed plausible. In nature, if a parasite was as deeply attached to a host as Lucifer was ingratiated to him, they usually stuck together until the very end. If so, would he carry that taint into whatever afterlife he was brought into? Would he corrupt the souls of Earth by dragging a sentient and chaotic disease into their midst? But a different thought chilled him even more: his gods might abandon him, and sentence his soul to the same damnation as Lucifer. It made sense, too much sense.

It was only after several minutes that he realized he had a gun in his hand. His thoughts had placed it there, and his sense of morality was telling him that it was the right thing to do. A virus like Lucifer, so apt to become a plague at any moment, had to be quarantined. The cold barrel of the gun found his chin, and Aaron determined that he would be the cure to his own cancer. The world would be a better place without Aaron Patterson in it. 

His finger tightened around the trigger. But before he could blow away his mental essence and leave his body as a soulless shell, a hand closed around the barrel of the gun and gently guided it away. Aaron slowly turned his head and beheld the one person who could have helped the most throughout this whole ordeal. She was dressed more casually than he had ever seen her before. No gown of arcane mists cascaded down her shoulders, right now a simple blouse and jeans was the pick of her wardrobe. Her raven black hair, normally home to a million stars, was tied back in a neat ponytail. Her skin was tanned to a healthy sheen, and a few sunspots danced across her cheeks. She was even shorter than usual, coming up just a few inches shy of his own height. But as always, her polished gold irises were a dead giveaway.

"Trust me," she said quietly, "lead doesn't taste as good as you think it does."

He didn't know whether to hug her or break her jaw, and he knew that she knew that. "Why?" was all he managed to choke out.

"I have a dozen reasons. Yet I could make a thousand excuses, and both you and I know that not a single one of them would be satisfactory."

"Where were you when I needed you?" He stood from the rock, and for the first time he had to look down to see his god eye-to-eye. "Did you know?"

"There are some signs that not even those with perfect sight-"

"Stop it!" he roared in anger. "No more bullshit! No cryptic riddles! No more treating me like I'm a goddamned child!" He grabbed his god by the collar of her blouse. "Did you know!? Did you know he was alive?! Did you know that Satan was in my goddamned head?!"

There wasn't a shred of fear or anger in her look, just her seemingly infinite patience. But she slowly shook her head. "No. I didn't know. None of us knew anything was wrong until you vanished."

"Vanished?" Aaron asked. "What the hell do you mean 'vanished'?"

"Poof! Gone! Disappeared! Dropped completely off the map. One moment I felt you at the rally, the next you can't hear a word I'm saying to you, and then you disappeared entirely. It was as if you stepped outside for a smoke break and didn't tell anyone. I lost you, and . . . I don't lose people easily. He pulled the wool over my eyes and blocked your mind from mine. I couldn't see you, I couldn't hear you, I only knew that you had to be there."

Aaron was utterly distraught. "How?! How is that possible? You're supposed to know everything! You are everything!"

"And he is nothing. I know what he told you, I know what he is. Lucifer is literally a patch of sentient chaos."

Aaron reeled at that statement. He believed that Lucifer had fed as many lies as he possibly could into their little conversation. "He was. . . he was telling me the truth? Why? He's the bad guy, he's a lord of chaos, why would he possibly tell me the truth!"

Mother sighed gently. "Because he knew it would hurt you more. Lies sting, but the truth can kill. He wanted to make you feel alone, he wanted to erase all the good parts of your memory so that you would feel helpless and hopeless. Lucifer wanted to ostracize you from both the people you love and the people who love you, so that in a moment of blind desperation, you would turn to him."

The blood drained from his face as Aaron realized how close he had come to taking Lucifer's hand in his moment of desperation. How long had his demon been working away at him, chiseling away at his defenses and whispering dark instructions into his thoughts?

"Where were you?" Aaron asked much more gently. "Why couldn't you help me?"

She stood gracefully, laying her hand gently on his shoulder. "Child, you must remember, your soul is only one of trillions that I must watch over. And when Lucifer threatened you, he threatened all of my children. I could not focus my efforts solely on you because I had to stop the fallout of his survival from affecting everyone. Do you know what a wraith is?" Aaron shook his head. Mother Earth turned to an open place in the grass and waved her hand. A globe of oily darkness coalesced a few feet over the ground, and spread into a vaguely humanoid shape. It was a hole in the fabric of his mind, a vacuous void that sucked in all light. The ghastly creature let out a moan that could have sent shivers down the spine of the most bloodthirsty demon as it reached out with its skeletal hands. Aaron gazed into the abyss that this nightmarish entity embodied, and he saw his own fears and doubts reflected back, much like the darkfire voids that swirled in the eyes of Lucifer.

Mother Earth banished the apparition of the wraith with another wave of her hand. 

"The moment you vanished, I screamed for you, but you could not hear me. And within a second, thousands of those shadow demons began to converge at the borders of my father's influence. We called every spirit soldier and every guardian to battle, and we managed to stave off the wraiths."

"What does this have to do with me? What does this have to do with Lucifer?"

Her polished golden eyes stared right into his own. "He called them. Lucifer sent out a call across the cosmos and summoned every wraith within eighty lightyears of Earth. The evil here in your mind sent out a call to all demons, and we were fortunate enough to intercept the worst of it, but the wraiths heard it well enough."

"He was calling his soldiers," Aaron murmured. "He wanted his armies ready for conquest." Feeling his knees grow weak, he sat down on the rock and took his head into his hands. "You should have let me do it." The gun mysteriously appeared in his hand again. He knew that she was protecting his feelings, that she was withholding information. Her warriors had gone to battle with the wraiths; how many of them never returned? Each and every spirit in the realm of the gods was a person, a unique soul that had its own hopes and feelings, and potentially millions of them had sacrificed themselves because he had been too weak to fight his own battle. The guilt of sending so many to oblivion only fed the demon within him.

"No." She lifted his chin to look in his eyes again. "Never say that. If you choose to give up on yourself, then you're letting him win. If you choose to put that gun to your head in here or out there in the real world, then you let down every man, every woman, and every child of mankind yet to be born. This has always been about more than just you, Lucifer wants you to be weak. And you're making it too easy for that bastard to hit you where it hurts! Harmony is more than just peace and love, it's knowing when to stand up and give chaos a hard look and a punch in the face. Harmony is knowing when to fight for peace and love, and not just crawling into the smallest hole you can find whenever the forces of chaos kick your ass and threaten everyone you love. Sometimes harmony means looking evil in the eye and telling it that it can go fuck itself and the horse it rode in on too!"

The gun vanished in a puff of smoke, but Aaron still was not convinced. "Harmony can't stop him. I saw what the Elements did, and it wasn't enough. He's got the chains of harmony holding him back, but he told me that my love would one day set him free."

Mother Earth grinned. "Kid, you got a lot left to learn. The Elements of Harmony don't make mistakes, especially when they're at their full strength. Sure, they could have blasted him to shadowy smithereens, but they chose not to. The Elements of Harmony spared Lucifer. And why in the flaming pit of Tartarus would they do that? I don't know! The Elements are some of the oldest orderly magic in all of existence, and if they have a plan for Lucifer, then they must have a damn good plan for his sorry hide. It may take decades for their plan to come to fruition, but it will. And when it does, everything will become clear."

He didn't know what to say. He had questioned his own faith so much that he had doubted the strength of the Elements of Harmony. Aaron almost felt the need to beg for forgiveness. "I'm . . . I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Now get out there and be the man that the world needs you to be."

It was a simple thing to undo an inversion, all one had to do was go back to the point of entry and wake up. He was only a few feet from where he had come in, but before he could go back, he looked out into the forest of his memories. The trees all seemed solemn, as if they were holding a vigil for a lost companion. Poking through the even beauty was a charred and ashen stump, once home to a beloved memory, one that he could never hope to remember. And how many more blackened stumps were hidden out there in the deep places of his mind? He sighed before he turned back.

"Hey," his god called. Aaron looked back to her, and she walked over to him, embracing him in a firm hug. "It was a cold spring evening," she whispered in his ear. "Your mother called you out onto the porch. She held you close, and together you listened to the first frogs chirp away the winter's chill. There were no worries, no cares, just you and her listening to the renewal of life." She let go of him and glanced over towards the charred stump. A little pile of ash in the center of the stump stirred, and the littlest, frailest sapling pushed through the devastation. It would never again hold the amount of sentiment and love that it once had, but it was there again, foggy and on the farthest edges of his mind. But he could remember it.

His matron smiled, and she gave him a gentle push back onto the spot where he had entered his own subconsciousness. "Remember, it's not always about the memories you've made, but the ones you have yet to make. Don't be afraid to open your heart, for though it is the key to his prison, it is his greatest fear."

Light began to fill his vision, and he felt his mental image being tugged back out and into the waking world.


*****************************


A pair of amber eyes greeted him as his own fluttered open. He could feel the warmth of Lyra's breath as she hovered over him like a mother hen watching over her brood. Her look of concern visibly lessened, but she was still far from letting her guard down. 

"How long was I out?" he croaked. His throat was as dry as sandpaper, and his entire body felt cramped and sore, like he had been lying there for days and days. He expected to feel a bushy beard on his chin, and for a moment he believed he knew how Rip Van Winkle felt when he awoke from his two decade snooze in the mountains.

Lyra cocked an eyebrow. "About two minutes. Why do you ask?"

Aaron sorely leaned up, rubbing his temples gently with the heels of his palm. "It felt like years. Time was . . . different. I stood in one place for weeks on end, just looking at one memory. And then in the graveyard, everything happened so fast."

The unicorn's horn began to sparkle with her yellow-tinged magic, and a glass of water levitated towards the man in the arcane circle. He took it and drank it greedily. "So," Lyra asked cautiously. "What did you see in . . . there?"

Aaron set the empty glass down, and his eyes grew distant. "I saw what I needed to see. And I saw things that I wished I could forget." He had a haunted look in his eyes, one that would stay with him for years to come. Lyra felt pity for the man who would have to struggle for sleep every night, knowing he would dream of what he had seen in the depths of his own soul.

"It is done?" a ghostly voice said from the doorway. Clarence had taken on a shade of cautious grey, knowing what evils lay only inches away from him. Aaron peered up at the specter, and nodded slowly. "Did you see him?" Aaron bit his lip, and he nodded again.

"He's not gone, but he is locked up tight." The magi stood stiffly from his arcane circle, carefully placing one foot in front of the other as he made his way out of their devastated dining room. Just as was about to round the corner into the hallway, he stopped himself and looked back at Lyra. "He told me something. He told me that there's still hope for you, that you've just been looking in the wrong place. The key to your victory lies in the present, not the past."

And with that, Aaron trudged away to his bedroom, locking the door and summoning a bottle of hard whiskey. He knew that not even the gods could touch someone through the intoxicating veil of hard liquor. As he settled into a long night of drinking, he made a promise to himself. If love was the key to Lucifer's prison, then he would have to live a life where he could never find such a love that he was willing to sacrifice the world to save. 

Lucifer was locked up tight, and he swore that night that he would throw away the key.
> Peace and Harmony
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was nothing left for her to do. 

The sun was setting on the day before she would officially go before the Supreme Court of the Republic of Terra and officially shame herself and her entire species by withdrawing her entire argument. Her closing statements were already written, sitting on the study desk next to her official apology to the human race and to the ponies of Lazarus. Her daring and defiance had given non-human creatures a toehold in what would certainly be a long and uphill journey in trying to prove their worth. Every creature had given their all in this fight; lives and livelihoods had been threatened, thousands had marked themselves as pariahs, and people that Lyra cared about had been hurt. All for nothing.

And so Lyra sat in the hallway, her cheek pressed against the cool wood of her roommate's door. Apparently he wasn't so honky-dory either, and all had been quiet after his announcement that some kind of . . . thing was lodged in his mind. She could never know what that felt like, but she knew what his emotions at that moment felt like: all the pain, being afraid of every little thing, even knowing who he had to leave behind.

The aquamarine mare let out a long sigh, closing her amber eyes and wondering what she could do now. The man behind that door had said there was still hope, that there was still some way she fight back and still win. But he had entered that room with a bottle of whiskey, and now he was as good as dead to the world. There were no words of comfort or encouragement that she could offer to one so far from the light, but she could talk to him. And right now, maybe he just needed to hear the sound of a friendly voice.

"The . . . the rain finally stopped." Her voice was low and in the most reassuring tone she had. "It was so sudden, you know? Forecast said the weather was supposed to be clear for another week." Lyra gave a single, mirthless laugh.  "I guess you can't really trust the meteorologist at all in this town." 

Not a single peep came from behind the door.

"So I heard that the park is getting a new statue. It's gonna be an angel with pegasi carved onto the pedestal," Lyra murmured through the door. "I . . . I didn't even know what an angel was. I had to look it up in one of your books. They're . . . they're really something, angels. Humans with wings, what a thought. I bet that she'll look really pretty out there with all the others. I mean, we never had many statues or monuments in Ponyville, but I guess you already know that. But back home in Canterlot . . . geez, you couldn't spit without hitting a statue of some famous person or one of the three dozen Princess Celestias." Lyra smiled slightly at the reminiscence of her hometown. "And Lazarus is gonna be a lot like Canterlot someday. Well, I hope it will be. After all, there's never a frown in Canterlot, and everypony laughs and smiles, and there's always a little magic in the air. And maybe there'll be statues everywhere in Lazarus too. Statues of President McGoff, statues for all the soldiers, maybe there'll even be one of you." The mare's eyes watered, and she sniffled. "No, I know there will be. Do you know why? Because people remember their angels. And if there's demons in this world, then there has to be angels too. There can't be hate without love; you can't just have evil. You just have to believe in them, and you have to be one of them. And you, Aaron, you're somebody's angel. All those people out there in that city," Lyra wiped the moisture from her eyes, "you're their guardian angel. We all need one, and they need you."

Lyra opened her eyes to see a spectral light hovering in the hallway. "Come, there's no breaking through the walls he has put up," the ghost said gently. 

The mare rose. "Can't you talk to him? Can't you say something?"

"What would I say that he hasn't already heard from Mother Earth?" The ghost began to drift down the hallway and towards the study. Lyra followed closely.

"He said that there was a way! He said that we can still win, and he has to know something more than he already told us!"

"Lies from the mouth of the devil himself," Clarence replied. "I was a part of Lucifer for mere moments, but long enough to know that he will lie through his teeth or anyone else's teeth just to cause the slightest amount of damage. Our best course of action is to act as though we never heard those words at all."

"Then what do we do now?"

"Nothing. We've done all we can for both you and him."

Clarence was stopped in his tracks by a yellow aura of magic. "I don't believe that for a second," said the mare, appearing in front of the ghost with a determined glare on her face. "Someone important told me you were the best that there ever was. People looked to you for answers, even long after you were dead. The Attorney for the Damned, isn't that what they called you? Well, our situation looks pretty bad, and right about now Aaron is just about the definition of damned. If you want to give up, go back to the park and find your way back to whatever afterlife you came from. I'll be in the study." She finished quietly, and she released him as she rounded the corner into the office that had become her headquarters.

Groaning at his lack of decisions, Clarence followed the determined mare. 


**********************************


"Burr vs Stark City Board of Commissioners? C'mon, that has got to be the answer!"

"Burr v. Stark City was about being misled by the adoption agency. It's after the fact and concerns suing for restitution. You have yet to adopt, so it doesn't apply."

Lyra rolled her eyes, snapping that book shut and flipping open another one. "At least it's more likely than yours," she grumbled. 

"The Indian Child Welfare Act encouraged best-course policies, and isn't that what you're after?"

"No. Because the ICWA was aimed at keeping Native American children with their families and their people. AKA, the exact opposite of what we're trying to do." Lyra leaned back in her chair, rubbing her sore head with her hooves. She was right in a way, the ICWA was aimed at keeping culturally related people together, and she was surprised that Bennett hadn't directly referenced it in court as a case that supported familial segregation by species. Well, she could always turn it around and say that humans couldn't adopt ponies through the same argument. That might stick it in their craws; though Lyra felt that not too many humans were going to line up around the block to adopt a four-legged herbivore that could fly or do magic.

"Present, not the past," the aquamarine mare murmured to herself. "Did you finish double-checking the Constitution?"

"Double and triple checked. There's not a single hole that I can find in the Guardian Clause or any other articles. The Constitution is designed with human welfare in mind, and not a single other thing. Would you believe that there is an entire sub-article that grants the President and his staff supreme military and domestic power in the events of a foreign attack?"

Lyra believed it; she'd read that same paragraph no less than eight times now. "Heh. They wrote in fascism, martial law at its most legal. What a country."

"I would prefer a short fascist reign over being ruled by an indefinite monarchy."

Lyra raised a hoof to object, but quickly remembered that the Equestrian Senate was essentially powerless and only convened when summoned by the diarchy. Not to mention all authoritative government positions, like the ministers, the captain of the royal guard, the high generals, and even the governors of Equestria's provinces and territories were all appointed by the Princesses. Even marriages into the Royal Family, the distant descendants of the ancient unicorn royalty that had ruled briefly before the Tribal Unification, had to be officially sanctioned by the alicorn sisters. Not that they had ever actually condemned any union, but they still had that power.

"Present, not the past," she mused again. "It's got to be something in the Constitution. Some contradiction, some loophole, a grammatical error, a coffee smudge on one of the founder's signatures, something." Lyra looked up to her whiteboard, her eyes following the web of lines that connected each amendment and article of the complex Constitution of the Republic of Terra. They all seemed to flow seamlessly into one another and supported one another like the buttresses in the castle at Canterlot. It was apparent that this was by far not the first supreme law of the land that the humans had ever deigned to write, and it displayed a level of government advancement that Equestrian philosophers had only dreamed about.

"It is not," the ghost replied, ceasing his endless loop around the desk. "The Constitution of the Republic is airtight, and the implied powers of the Guardian Clause close any holes that might be there."

"Then what else is there?"

Clarence dove into a pile of papers, emerging half a moment later. "Two dozen trade agreements, a few border limitations and concessions, and a spate of civil and criminal laws for the city of Lazarus and the surrounding country. Also two proposed constitutional amendments; one ratified, and one vetoed by the president."

"Is it one of those?" Lyra asked in a somewhat hopeful tone, though she already knew the answer to that question.

"No, the ratified amendment concerned the permanent outlawing of arcane narcotics in addition to the ones that were already outlawed, and the denied amendment was about limiting the gauge of railroads to solidify the Republic's growing railway monopoly in their own territory."

Lyra groaned in frustration. "Railroads. There's serious topical issues about basic human --and creature!-- rights to be discussed, and they're concerned about star sugar . . . and railroads. If I didn't know any better, I'd say this country has its priorities out of order." She leaned back in her chair and sighed in defeat; there was nothing in this office that vindicated her cause or enforced her claim.

"Money always wins, that's just how it is."

Lyra's neck snapped forward. "It's money, isn't it? That's the secret ingredient I need to stir in and make this shit cake edible?" A rather fitting shit-eating grin appeared on her face.

The ghost could have sighed, but for his lack of lungs. "At this point, a few million dollars in the right pocket might help. But unless that little horn of yours can make all the old alchemists proud and produce gold out of thin air, that's another route that's closed to us."

"Mother humper!" the mare swore. "That's a spell I don't know! Picked a good freaking day to fall asleep in magic kindergarten, didn't I!"

The ghost's pale white light shifted to an odd shade that was somewhere between blue and grey. "Can you really make gold?" He sounded utterly flabbergasted.

Lyra rolled her eyes. "I told you, I fell asleep that day. And it only stays gold for a little bit, then it goes back to being a rock or a piece of wood or whatever else it was before. Back on topic, did you check the taxation reports and the national census?"

"Checked in triplicate, not a single point of relevance."

"Any submitted petitions that might be bouncing around in the senate as we speak?"

"No, and those wouldn't have legal precedence or binding power unless they successfully passed through the gauntlet of senatorial committees and sub-committees and survived a vote, as well as a round of possible vetoes from the president. Even then the Justices would be the ones who ultimately decided whether it was constitutional or not, and just out of spite they would declare it unconstitutional to keep your case from gaining any leverage or advantages."

"Back at square one," Lyra grumbled. She leaned back in her chair again, pondering what else might have some miniscule amount of pull in court. Her amber eyes drifted over the mounds of papers and files that had accumulated around the desk, and for a moment her mind almost returned to the black pit of despair that she had spent so many months trying to crawl out of. All this time she had approached the situation looking for the tiniest bit of what might be considered precedent among hundreds of ancient court cases. She had been searching for the scraps of scraps, and somewhere in this garbage pile was supposed to be a feast of information. 

Sighing to herself, Lyra swiveled her chair around and looked out the window for the first time in days. The window had a clear view of the eastern horizon, so the house's true owner would be able to face the rising sun in the mornings. But now it was nearing dusk, and while the western horizon was a palette of oranges and reds splashed onto the sky by the setting sun, the east was already under the spell of night. And just as the sun slowly crept behind the hills, the barest sliver of the moon peeked out in the east. 

Within minutes, the ever watchful Mare in the Moon stared down in her full glory at the nighttime lands, and Lyra's thoughts wandered. It must be night in Ponyville by now, she thought to herself. The streetlamps are probably lit, and everypony is inside with their friends and their families. Some of them are probably in bed by now. The image of Bonbon lying alone in the bed that they had shared for so many years entered her mind. She imagined that Bonbon still slept on her side of the bed, even though she could have had the whole thing to herself. She imagined that maybe Bonbon still thought about her at night, and maybe she sometimes woke up in the morning expecting to feel the warm and comforting hoof of her partner wrapped around her. I miss you so much. . . And I wanted to tell you. . . I wanted to say that I did this because I love you. I love you with every fiber of my being, and I wanted you to be a part of a happy family with me. But I messed it all up. "I messed it all up," she said aloud.

"Don't say that."

"No, it's true. I messed up my life, I messed up my marriage, I completely bucked up this whole country, and for all I know it's partially my fault that Aaron is messed up with his devil thingy. I wanted to make families and make people happy, and look where we are now. There's been riots, arrests, bloodshed, and I've just made a deeper schism in this country. And look at me, talking to a dead man. I've broken this country, strained the relationship between humans and ponies, and I've broken the peace-" Lyra stopped herself in mid-sentence, and she stared at the moon for a long moment. "Wait. Wait just one moment. No. No way. It . . . it can't be that simple. Have . . . have you ever played street magic?"

Again the ghost assumed that odd coloration of perplexity. "Let us assume that I have not."

Lyra shook her head quickly, swiveling the chair back to face the desk. "It's a game we used to play back in Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns. I was never really good at it, and the teachers always made rules to try and stop us from playing it, but hey, we were a bunch of dumb kids, of course we played it! Anyways, the point of the game was to set two players against one another and see who could make the best show of magic. Sometimes we lifted things, sometimes we made lights, and sometimes we made little constructs to fight each other. The construct fights were my favorite, but there was a big flaw in the game: nopony could ever win in a practical way. There was an aura that limited summoning around the school so somepony didn't conjure a centaur or something, so all the magical constructs were always evenly matched, and believe me, they could fight for days! And whoever lost was the person who gave up first. But the only real way to win decisively was to try and work around their construct and hit them instead."

The ghost had shifted to a plain white. "I fail to see where you're going with this."

Lyra bit her lip and tried to think of a way to say it. "Uhhh . . . boxing! You used to love boxing! What's the objective of boxing?"

"Hmph, there is no oblique 'objective' to boxing, one must simply use his wits and his strengths to overcome or outlast a foe."

"Yeah yeah yeah, just like going to court! But when you're doing fisticuffs with someone, do you hit their hands?" The ghost scoffed and shook himself, a gesture that had come to mean the same thing as shaking his head. "Yeah, you don't hit them on their fists, or in our case, their arguments. What do you do to KO someone? You go for his head! You take out the thing that's making the fists come at you! Now, what enables the Republic of Terra's justice system? What makes their fists fly?"

Clarence began to slowly catch on, and his spectral essence grew brighter. "The Constitution."

Lyra grinned. "And what enables the Constitution?"


***************************


Like so many nights before the creature social revolution had been taken to the streets and to the courts, the Watering Hole was somber, and everypony was bent shamefully over a glass. But tonight was different; there was a sense of failure and shattered pride that accompanied the atmosphere, and the dozens of bandaged limbs, bruised bodies and black eyes from the riot only solidified that feeling. Occasionally some beaten creature would groan in pain, but overall the establishment was silent. Even the diamond dogs, who had been among the most rabid supporters of the movement, only whimpered and drank. With their instincts telling them to protect their pack, and the ponies of Lazarus having been incorporated into their pack, they had quickly moved to the front of the riot and born the brunt of the human opposition.

High Spirits, despite his mild case of toxic inhalation and taking a baton to the shoulder, worried at another invisible stain in his bar top. High had spent his whole day scrubbing every last corner of the bar, the thoughts of yesterday's riot still running through his mind. This bar was everything to him. He'd given up a comfortable and stable place in Appaloosa just to find some kind of opportunity in this strange city with these strange creatures that called themselves human beings, and now more than ever he regretted it. Like so many other opportunity seekers that stared down at the bottoms of their glasses, the thought of pulling up roots and heading back to Equestria seemed like not too bad of an idea right now.

Heck, rumor had it that a few of the former Stoneclaws were at their communal house at this very moment packing up every worldly possession they owned with their sights set on the Northern Rocky Mountains. The few gryphons that lived in the city of Lazarus had already contacted their nation's ambassador and found political sanctuary in their embassy. And the mules. . . well, the mules and donkeys seemed apathetic about the entire situation in general. The humans just didn't seem bothered by them, and the donkeys made a cozy living on Terran dollars by pulling plows and doing basic labor.

But High's place, come hell or high water, was here. And if every pony in the entire country decided to pack up and head back to Equestria, he would stay and keep his bar open until he could no longer afford to run it. 

High Spirits sighed, lifting his rag and throwing it over his shoulder. He stared down at his bartop, wondering who he was staying here for, what kind of stubborn ideals he was trying to cling to. The stallion sighed and ran a hoof through his mane. But just as he was about to break his own personal code and pour himself a free drink, a familiar pony limped in through the door. 

The slightest smile came to his face as Honey Cup sat down at his bar, obviously favoring her right foreleg. Aside from her limp, the right half of the mare's face was purple with bruises, her right eye was swollen shut, and she was bandaged with whatever bandages the underground hospital had been able to spare for her. She looked like a poorly tenderized steak, but High didn't say that. Instead, he poured her a glass of her favorite red wine.

"On the house," he said as he pushed the drink towards the defeated mare. "So, how you feelin'?"

Honey Cup looked at him sourly with her one good eye. "They said the swelling would start to go down in a few days, but I'm not supposed to sleep unsupervised or else I might never wake up. You know, because of the gruesome head injury. I also seem to have become the secondary figurehead of a pariah movement in a nation with the biggest grudge against our kind in known history. And my fiance seems to think that our lives are in peril and has started packing his bags and scraping together money for the first train back to Manehattan. The military let me out on bail, but I still have to appear in court for disturbing the peace and resisting arrest. So yes, I feel rather peachy, thank you for asking."

High shrugged inoffensively. "Just thought I'd ask."

Honey rolled her unswollen eye. "Where is James? I rather expected him to be here."

The stallion grunted something, grabbing a slightly dirty glass and wiping it down with his even dirtier rag. "Jimmy's over at the diamond dog's community house trying to talk them out of leaving Lazarus. Said he might be there all night."

"If he gets done with them early, do you think he might be able to convince me as well?" Honey asked, rolling her wine glass dolefully between her hooves. "It's taken every speech and every argument that I have to convince my beloved to stay here and not forcibly drag me to the train station. And though his pleas for my wellbeing have mostly been ignored, lately I have found myself wondering why I still fight this battle." Her eyes looked up from the glass of wine and up to High. "Maybe our kind would be better off in the welcoming bosom of our homeland."

High stopped wiping down the glass, slapping his rag down on the bar. "What about those folks?" He pointed out the door and towards the city. "I thought those people out there needed friends more than we needed opportunities."

Honey Cup hunched over her glass of wine, tracing a wing feather around the rim of the glass. "They don't want us here anymore, that much is for certain. And if the best thing we can do is to get out of their way, then so be it."

"Damn it!" High swore. "What in Tartarus happened to us? We were doing so good for everyone, and now everyone is talkin' like we lost a war or somethin'! Honey, just yesterday you were talking about humans and ponies makin' huge strides together. Hell, for a few minutes there you sounded like you would support inter-species marriage with your dying breath."

"And I still do," Honey replied quietly, taking a sip from her glass. "The only real difference now is that I realize that the more we do to try and work our way into their lives, the more they'll resent us for it. There might be a day when ponies like Lyra can adopt human children and vote in human elections and even find human spouses to their heart's desire. But we will all be long dead when that day finally comes."

High wanted to argue, but there was no point that he could make that would sway Honey. "I . . . I guess you're right. I guess we'll just have to hold our heads up high and take our lickin'." The door to the bar creaked open, and a silhouette of a unicorn mare stood just outside the dim light. "Grab a seat anywhere, I'll get your drinks in a minute," the stallion said dejectedly.

"High Spirits, you sound like a little foal who just got told that Hearth's Warming was cancelled."

The barkeeper froze. He squinted at the mare in the doorway, and through the dark he began to see aquamarine fur, amber eyes, and a defiant smirk on one of the most welcoming faces he had ever seen. His heart soared, and the stallion shouted, "Lyra!"

Honey Cup snapped up straight, spinning around on her barstool. "Lyra?"

"The one and only. At least I hope there's no other mares out cavorting around with my identity. I got a terrible credit history, and I wouldn't want them to be too disappointed." The unicorn trotted in with her head held high and her tone completely free of doubt or stress. By then, the bar was alive with murmurs. The prodigal daughter had reappeared from thin air, and the way she walked and talked sent ripples out into the crowd. Sliding easily into a free barstool next to Honey Cup, who was still frozen in disbelief, Lyra tapped her hoof on the bar. "Barkeep, orange soda!"

Lyra had to repeat herself before High could make himself grab the least dusty bottle of orange soda he could find. "What's . . . what's going on?" the stallions stammered. Lyra uncapped her soda and let the fizz bubble out before taking a long drink. "Lyra, are you . . . okay? I mean, the last time we all saw you, you were crying your eyes out and running out of the courthouse. A lot of us thought you were gonna go hurt yourself."

The unicorn set down her already half-finished soda and wiped her mouth with the back of her hoof. "For a while, so did I."

"Then what changed?" Honey Cup said, edging her way into the conversation. 

Lyra grinned to the actress. "I think I found the answer. It's a long shot, and I'm not even sure it really exists, but I have to know. And if it is real, then everything the human laws have against us is nothing."

High Spirits leaned close, his heart pounding in anticipation of the possible solution to all of their problems. "What is it?"

"Before I tell you, I need somepony to do something for me."

Honey and High shared a glance with one another before nodding. "Of course, what do you need us to do?"

Lyra took in a little breath and wet her lips. "I don't necessarily mean you two. But. . . I need someone who can fly all the way to Gladstone and back in a single night. In fact, I might need more than one pegasus pony to do this."

The two other ponies shared a quizzical look with each other. "Gladstone? What's in Gladstone?"

"If I'm right, and it's a longshot, there might be a document there that we can access. I know there's at least one copy of it here in Lazarus, but it's locked away in the Undercity's library, probably beneath a pane of bulletproof and fireproof glass, never to be opened or see the light of day. And that's if the one in Gladstone is actually in Gladstone, and if the people who keep it will be willing to let us borrow it, and if we can get it back here in Lazarus before court is in session tomorrow morning."

High Spirits leaned back, a doubtful look in his eye. "That's a lotta 'ifs'."

"An 'if' is still a possibility, my fine comrade." A little spark entered Honey Cup's open eye, and both the unicorn and the earth pony could tell that her heart was swelling with passion at that moment. "Lyra, my wings shall serve as the vessel through which the light of justice shall shine upon this land! For you, for this country, for freedom, I would fly into the fiery maw of Tartarus itself and back!"

Lyra cut her dramatic monologue short. "Not you, Honey. You look pretty banged up, and I don't want you hurting yourself again."

"Darling, if not I, then whom?" the actress implored, a visibly hurt and disappointed look falling over her face.

"I know who," the bartender said. High Spirits set his jaw firm, and he walked out from behind his bar. "Hey! If any of you worthless boozebags are still moping around about gettin' your flanks kicked yesterday, I just want to tell you that the main mare is back, and she's got a plan!" The bar patrons all turned their attention to the source of their interruption. Satisfied that he had at least caught their attention, High continued. "Now I want you all to listen up. Lyra needs some flyers. And if any of you featherheads think you're worth your wings, then we need you to head east to Gladstone! It's a long flight for anypony, and we need you back by morning. Any volunteers?"

Over in the corner of the bar, a chair scraped back, and the grizzled muddy-brown stallion in it rose. "Heck, flying to Gladstone is nothin'. I once flew from Manehattan to Dodge Junction through a hailstorm and I still arrived on time. I'm your fly boy." 

Another chair scooted back, and a navy-blue mare rose. "I was second wing before I dropped out of the Wonderbolts Training Academy. If you need speed and endurance, I'm your mare."

Several other pegasi and even a gryphon rose from their chairs, all espousing their flying capabilities, each one trying to one-up the braggart before him. Having found her volunteers, Lyra gathered them around and told them what they were looking for and who to look for to find it. As she told them about the mysterious document, whispers began to spread out through the bar like wildfire. As soon as Lyra said the name of what she was looking for, a little spark of hope was kindled in their hearts. And right about the time the sky finally darkened completely, almost twenty flying creatures took off for the eastern edges of human territory.


********************


That morning, Lyra trotted down towards the courthouse, toting a briefcase in her teeth, and a certainty in her step. Eighteen pegasi had left The Watering Hole right about at eight o'clock last night, and only ten minutes ago the first of them had arrived back with a positive report and the document itself tucked away safely in their saddlebags. But before they could hand it over, the pegasus who had retrieved it said that the document's keepers held it in the highest regard, and wished that no harm come to it. 

Before she even left the house that morning, Lyra had gone one last time to Aaron's bedroom door and knocked. Just like the night before, not a peep had come out, though she could have sworn she heard him weeping sometime in the early hours of the morning. She told him about borrowing his jacket, and then left with her new document in hoof. 

All of the people she saw as she made her way down the streets of Lazarus seemed encouraged by her confident gait, and by the time she reached the courthouse, a sizable crowd of ponies and sympathetic humans was following her to the courthouse steps, and there they would wait until judgement had passed. She entered without causing a commotion, and sat down to the right of her opponent, Attorney General David Bennett. 

She glanced over at Bennett as the bailiff called for everyone to rise, and the look on his face raised Lyra's eyebrow. The Attorney General looked solemn and stern, as if he was trying to maintain his stoicism in the face of all that had transpired and what was about to transpire. Lyra seated herself, still glancing at David. 

As they had done for weeks now, the Justices filed in one by one to take their seats at the bench, each sitting at their respective place and opening up the docket laid in front of them. Chief Justice Halliburton settled into her seat, and court could finally begin on this final day. 

The gavel slammed down once, twice, three times on the polished surface of the Justice's bench. "We shall continue to hear arguments this morning in case no. 1 of the Terran judiciary, Lyra Heartstrings v. Republic of Terra." Chief Justice Haliburton laid her gavel down, folding her fingers and looking intently at the petitioner. "Mrs Heartstrings, before the conclusion of the previous session of court, this court was presented with evidence that you were in outstanding violation of Terran civil law better known as the Marriage Rights Act before you came forward and made your challenge to the basic legality of the Guardian Clause of the Constitution. You have been given an opportunity to consider your options, and the court is willing to forgo a dismissal if you are willing to withdraw your argument. This court believes that to be more than fair, and advises you to withdraw."

The petitioner slid her chair out and stood, taking a moment to rear up on her hind legs and stand tall like a human. She had gone all out today; one of Aaron's suit jackets had been repurposed for her use, though the shoulders were far too wide for her and the sleeves not quite wide enough. She had wanted to go with the pants too, but they were too long at the ankle and too tight around the hindquarters; not to mention she would have needed to cut a hole for her tail. If she had the time she would have tried to let out the sleeves and tighten the shoulders, but Bonbon was the mare with the needle, and this wasn't even her suit.

Lyra cleared her throat. "Before I begin properly, I would first like to apologize for my actions during the last session of court. I was in a rather . . . fragile state of mind. You see, in Equestria, we ponies live and breathe because of the company we keep and the friends we make. And any time we lose a friend, it's . . . it's like losing a part of ourselves. Losing Bonbon . . . to hear her name used against me like that, it was like my own heart stopped beating." Lyra stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. "I've made a lot of friends here in Lazarus; humans and ponies alike. People I'll never forget; friends that will be a part of who I am forever. That's all I wanted in life. At first, all I could think about was being right. I spent five years traveling around the world, blowing my trust fund, my college fund, and half of my parent's life savings trying to be right about the existence of human beings. I thought I wanted the truth above everything else. And it was only after I lost everything, my wife, my cause, even my faith in myself that I realized what was important: the people that care about you."

The mare paced up and down in front of the bench, her front legs folded behind her back like she had seen some humans do. "The people who care about you, and the people you care about. That's what is important. And with that in mind, I respectfully decline the court's offer. I will not withdraw my argument or concede any point I have made thus far."

A collective groan came from the Justice's bench. Justice Dailey pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "Mrs Heartstrings, there is no other alternative. We weren't offering a deal with options, this court kindly offered you an ultimatum. You either withdraw your case and spare your people the future difficulty of having this case used against them as legal precedence against gay and creature rights, or you stay the course and every civil rights case from here forward will have your name tacked against it. We bent our own laws when we didn't just close the case at the last convention, I hope you realize that."

"You didn't just bend them," Lyra replied coolly, "You shattered them. And not just the laws that govern this court. In fact, I have evidence that proves that this court, and the entire government of the Republic of Terra, has been engaging in activities that are of an illegal nature and denigrate the very foundation of this country!"

Chief Justice Halliburton tapped her gavel, silencing the murmurs that floated through the gallery. "Petitioner, what relevance would these so called "illegal activities" have to your argument?"

The mare smirked. "It's all relevant, every last bit of it. I can show you how Terran industries have been illegally fixing prices and limiting exports to keep income high. I have proof that the Terran Army has been engaging in illegal military actions. I have proof that you've been spying on your neighbors and your own citizens. I can show you, without a shadow of doubt, that what Alexander Sanders said to me and my beloved in the Dean of Medicine's office that day was more than just an outrage, it was a breach of the law."

Justice Sikes smiled like a cat stalking a mouse. She cleared her throat loudly. "Let the courtroom records state that the petitioner's conspiracy theories and accusations of illegal activity on the part of the Terran judiciary are unfounded and lack any sort of credibility."

Lyra narrowed her eyes. "More than you think." Without further banter, her horn lit up with golden-yellow light, and with a touch of theatrics, the document in her saddlebag materialized out of thin air with a shower of golden sparks. The document, wrapped like a sacred scroll of ancient and arcane wisdom, slowly unrolled itself, revealing the standard and uniform print of a human word processor. But what caught the eyes of the Justices and the on-lookers in the gallery were the dozens of little pictographs that adorned the margins and the back of the document. They seemed like the little ochre paintings that ancient Native Americans had made thousands of years ago. 

"This," she stated boldly, "is the Armistice. The Peace of Terra. The treaty between humankind and the creatures that fought them that officially brought an end to the Great War. One of only three of its kind in the whole world. This one belongs to the bison, who believe it to be a sacred covenant between themselves and the creatures they feared for two thousand years. This is the sole document, signed by the leaders of Equestria and the representatives of your species, that grant this nation sovereignty in the eyes of the world powers. Signed before god and tens of thousands of witnesses, the Peace is what gives the human race its freedom to live and freedom to prosper."

"You're wrong," Justice Sikes interrupted. "Those rights, and the sovereignty of this nation, stem from the Constitution, not from some land agreement that looks as if it were passed around a kindergarten class." Several of the other conservative Justices nodded, though they did not agree entirely with her choice of words.

Lyra's smirk only grew more irritating. "Allow me to read a few passages." She flipped through the pages of the Peace, and finally came to the one that vindicated her. "Ahem. 'In the interests of peace and harmony, as well as the well-being and fertility of the human race, the signers of this document do so swear that persons of emigrated nationality and racial origin shall receive rights no greater and no less than the naturalized people of their country of immigration.'" Lyra gently rolled up the document. "Reciprocity. That's the immigration policy laid out by the very foundation of this country, and guess what, it's the civil policy as well! Granted, it was designed completely with human emigration out of the Republic in mind, but without specified wording, it works the other way as well. Humans who wish to obtain full Equestrian citizenship are granted that right, so long as the Republic gives pony citizens the same in return. And the last time I checked, humans could do pretty much whatever they damn well pleased in Equestria. A few weeks ago in this very courtroom, I presented evidence as to the physical and mental wellbeing of a human family that has taken up residence in Equestria. Well, I did a little more digging, and I even brought in my old copy of Equestria's civil laws."

The old ratty paper that Lyra had presented as evidence in her argument that first morning came out of her briefcase, and Lyra took a moment to smooth out some of the wrinkles before giving it to the bailiff to be presented before the Chief Justice. Chief Justice Haliburton seemed more intent than ever, and she gingerly took the piece of notebook paper and passed it to Justice Rutherford without so much as a glance. But the usual sternness was gone from her face, and the Chief Justice looked more inquisitive than anything else.

"It turns out that a lot of those examples I presented to you that first morning were completely valid if both nations uphold their side of the Peace. Equestria provides fair and equal civil rights to all of its citizens; ponies, donkeys, gryphons, dragons, minotaurs, even humans. If a human becomes a citizen, then they get the right to vote. They get the right to avoid discrimination. By simply stating that they wish to live as citizens of the fine nation of Equestria, they have earned the privilege to say and do whatever they want!"

"So what?" Justice Sikes shot back. "The Peace of Terra has as much bearing in this court as a pinkie swear. It's not a basis of civil law; it's a military declaration of ceasefire!"

Lyra chuckled under her breath. "Then I suggest that you all find yourselves a good Judge Advocate in the military, because by saying 'no' to a pony who is a legal citizen, you've committed high treason and war crimes." Lyra began to pace in front of her desk again. "Tell me, what happens when you breach a contract? The contract becomes null and the person who breached it usually has to acknowledge that they did with some kind of compensation as ordered by a civil court. The Peace of Terra is the contract between the Republic and Equestria, a legally binding document that says that our two nations shall live in peace and treat one another as equals." She spun on her hoof, and jabbed her foreleg at the Justices' bench. "By denying me my civil and family rights as a citizen simply because of my heritage, you have breached the Peace of Terra and officially nullified it! And it gets worse, oh boy does it get worse. Because you nullified the document that officially grants this nation its sovereignty in the eyes of the global community, this country has been dissolved! There is no Republic of Terra. The vast majority of the human race now belongs to an outlaw state." Lyra dropped her hoof, and her voice dropped in tone. "And the cherry on top? Because you saw fit to dissolve the legal power of the Peace, the human race immediately returns to the state just prior to the signing of the Peace."

A loud crash shattered the ensuing silence. A glass of water had fallen straight out of Justice Nakamura's typically steady hand as the full implications dawned on him. "No . . . that can't be true," the Justice murmured.

"That's right. By denying me my right to adopt a human child when the reciprocal right is fully available to humans in Equestria, you have legally declared war on the kingdom of Equestria and all her allied states."

Silence filled the courtroom, and then all hell broke loose. In an instant what had been an orderly court of law was a stew of angry shouting from the bench of the Justices, some of it aimed at Lyra, though most of it was between the Justices themselves. The people in the gallery who had come just to watch were raising their voices in a mixture of fear and confusion. With one word, one single little three letter word, Lyra had brought back the specter of death and destruction that had plagued these people, the people who had survived their own apocalypse and only now had achieved some kind of normal life. 

War. 

Such a small word, yet its power grew like wildfire. The look of triumph in Lyra's eyes faded as she saw the fear in the eyes of the humans all around her. In all likelihood, there would be no real war. The ambassadors of Equestria and the Republic would meet, edit the terms of the treaty, and life would go on. But the very scant possibility of another war brought back nightmares to these people. And as the chaos grew, Lyra hung her head low and regretted ever saying a word.


**************************************


Across the city, Aaron sat up in his bed, damp with cold sweat. He had no idea what Lyra had said only moments ago in court, and he had no idea what had woken him from his stupor, but somehow he could feel the emotions of the people affected by it. All around him it rang like the sound of a gong in the silence, a horrendous tremor in the collective thoughts and emotions of the human race that shook his core; the sound of a hundred fears all being realized at the same moment. He clutched his head in agony, trying desperately to keep the waves of chaotic emotions from poaching his brain like an egg.

And from somewhere deep inside of himself, he could hear cruel laughter and the rattle of chains.

"You bastard," Aaron whispered to himself before falling back to unconsciousness.


***************************************


"A bit dramatic, but now the Justices have no choice but to cast their lot in with our side to save their own hides," the voice in her ear whispered.

"Yeah," Lyra whispered back glumly, "at what cost?" 

All around her the humans of Lazarus panicked at the thought of shattering their hard won peace with Equestria. Although the shouts and sounds of the chaotic courthouse all seemed to meld into a single roar of noise, Lyra could hear a few words from the humans in the gallery. Some talked about leaving Lazarus and the Republic altogether, hoping to claim Equestrian citizenship before  the international community could brand them as stateless outlaws and pirates. Others more angrily spoke of joining the army in case this was the justification to the planned military campaign and foreign occupation that had been plotted by Equestria, an utter myth that had been running around Lazarus like the flu since the riots. Still others just sat silently, too stunned by what they had heard to react.

But the general rabble that had consumed the onlookers in the gallery paled in comparison to the reactions of the nine figures at the bench of the Justices. Justice Sikes leaned over the bench, her face as red as a beet, screeching a mixture of her own brand of obscenity and the occasional attempt at a declaration of a mistrial. Justice Rutherford sat with his pudgy face hidden behind his docket, desperately flipping through to find any evidence that might nullify such a claim and tossing aside any forms and documents that were irrelevant. Justice Brockman and Justice Dailey were standing inches from each other's faces, arguing and jabbing one another in the chest and shoulders, which seemed to upset the more sensitive Justice Lanning, who cringed in her seat.

And all the while, looking on from her seat in the middle of the chaos, Chief Justice Halliburton sat silently, her legendary brand of discipline and stoicism holding firm. Only, she wasn't as stoic as she appeared, Lyra noticed. The typical firmness in her eyes was gone, and now she only seemed . . . disappointed. All around her the world of civility and justice that the human race had built for itself was crumbling, and Abigail Halliburton looked down at the creature that had shattered it all wearing sadness on her face.

My fault . . . it's all my fault. I've broken these people, Lyra thought to herself.

Without consulting her legal counselor, Lyra quickly changed her plan. 

"Madam Chief Justice! I-" she shouted, only to have her declaration drowned out by the roar of voices.

The Chief Justice's eyes opened wide, and she slammed down her gavel so hard that the handle snapped in two. "Order!" the Chief Justice snapped. Despite the chaos of the courtroom, every man, woman, mare and stallion wilted under her gaze. A ringing silence quickly filled the courtroom. "What did you say?" she said lowly to the petitioner.

"I said, 'Madam Chief Justice, I retract my statement, and wish it to be struck from court records and to be dismissed as evidence.' I would also suggest that a joint committee of Terran and Equestrian dignitaries review the Mirror Clause of the Peace and correct the mistake found within."

"What are you doing?!" the ghostly voice in her ear screamed. "There is no testimony or affidavit that can be used against evidence like the Peace! This is our knockout, our trump card!" Lyra ignored him.

"Why?" the Chief Justice said in stunned disbelief. "Petitioner, why would you do such a thing? You have the entire Republic of Terra bent over a barrel! You have beaten us at our own game! You could ask for anything in the entire world and we would have to find some way to give it to you. Why in the world would you throw away something that exonerates your people and makes your claim law?"

"Because," the mare said in reply to both her lawyer and the Chief Justice, "I am not a monster. I look around here, and I see these people, these wonderful, amazing people, and I see that they're afraid of me. They're afraid of what I said and what I did. Throughout my life, I've done some dumb things. I've traveled around the world looking for something that turned out to be in my own backyard. I let my obsession destroy my career. I . . . I let the one person that I care about most walk out the door. And this," she levitated the Peace of Terra in her magical aura, "it was the biggest mistake I've ever made. But I'm done making mistakes, and I'm through with letting my dumb decisions hurt the people I care about. And I care about you," she said to the Chief Justice. And then she turned to the other Justices. "And I care about you," she said to Justice Sikes. "And I care about you," she said to Justice Brockman before turning back to the gallery. "I care about you, and you, you, you, and you too," she said as she pointed her hoof towards several people in the gallery. "I care about the human race, and I care about my own people too. And if I didn't want the best future for the both of us, then I would have withdrawn my argument weeks ago. I kept fighting because I want to see the day when a human child and a pony child can share their laughter, their dreams, and their happiness with each other. I want to see the day when the children of the old world and the children of the new world can forgive each other for whatever sins might haunt their past."

Lyra slowly looked down at herself, at the gaudy impersonation of a human that she had been so excited to wear. Slowly she lowered her forelegs and settled down on all fours. Her horn lit up, and the buttons on her jacket and the shirt underneath came undone. She removed her borrowed accouterments and tossed them into the chair of the petitioner's table. She stood the way she should stand, and was clothed in nothing but her own fur, and it felt right. She was no longer a confused little filly trying to play dress up as a creature that she had always admired, she was proud of who she was and what she was. 

"We are not enemies," she started. "But friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory will swell when again touched, as surely they will be, by the angels of our better nature. Abraham Lincoln said that in his first inaugural address. From what I've read, I can tell that he was a great man, a man who believed in rebuilding burnt bridges, who believed that everyone is born free and should live free. Lincoln believed that all men . . . that all people, are equals at heart, and that it is only our ignorance and our misgivings that separate us. That in the end, our better nature will always triumph. Please, show me your better nature. Madam Chief Justice, the petitioner rests."

Lyra sat down in her chair. She had rescinded her best piece of evidence, and now all that remained was for David Bennett to make his response and hopefully let the deliberations begin. 

Chief Justice Halliburton took a deep breath, let out a calming sigh, and turned to the Attorney General. "Respondent, you may now begin."

Bennett rose from his seat, his normally tan and confident face seeming much more pale and clammy than usual. "Madam Chief Justice, the respondent abstains from debate at this time for fear of committing treason. Respondent rests." Bennett sat down, and Chief Justice Halliburton rose from her seat. 

"At this time the Justices shall withdraw for deliberation of the presented case. Until such time as a consensus is reached, court is in recess."