> Enjoy Your Stay: Blood and Sand
>  by TheRedBaron
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue: Into the after
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Princess Luna walked down the halls of the Salt Lick City garrison, her heart swelled with a feeling she hadn’t felt in a long time: hope. Hope for the future, for her future. After nearly two years, she was finally on her way to complete redemption.

Yes, Ponyville had come to understand that the legends surrounding Nightmare Moon were greatly exaggerated, and that, setting aside the nigh-comical inflammation of her misdeeds over a millennia, she was not that pony anymore. But the rest of Equestria did not magically hop to the other side of the fence, as it were. Ponies were still fearful of her at best, and outright hateful of her at worst. It hadn’t surprised Luna: It would take a momentous, unprecedented occasion to instantly overturn a millennia of vilification through oral tradition. Luckily for her, a momentous, unprecedented occasion had conveniently presented itself. 

It began, so her sister said, fourteen years before she had returned. The High Thaumaturgist of Salt Lick City had been wrapping up for the day when one of her apprentices discovered an anomaly on the magical scanners. An arcane singularity, in the center of the city’s commercial district. Further investigation pinpointed the location of the singularity, and just last year it was discovered that the singularity was, in fact, a portal. Three months ago the Equestrian Grand Wizard herself opened the portal to discover a mighty, alien city on the other side.

Adventurers, xenopologists, and glory-seekers all scrambled to be the first in line to be the first to greet this alien civilization. Luna saw the opportunity, and after a few words with her sister, was set to be the first pony to cross the portal. All she needed was an auxiliary guard.

After seeing the disastrous state of her sister’s E.U.P. Guard, she felt that a different approach was called for in forming her own guard. Where her sister was bright and eye-catching, she was subdued and subtle. Where her sister was open and matronly, she was guarded and direct. It was only fitting that their respective guards reflected this. She had spent the last two months scooping up guardsponies from various branches of the Equestrian military for her new organization. An organization that had finally settled on a name: The Noctis Custodes. 

At last, Luna arrived in the wing of the barracks loaned to her and her custodians. The sending-off ceremony was in a mere six hours, and they all needed to be in top shape; she had an impression to make, after all.

When she opened the door into the shared quarters, she first saw the Triplets hunched over a small cylinder on the bench. Lock-and-Key, Stock-and-Key, and Barrel-and-Key. A rather unusual naming scheme, even by Equestrian standards. When Luna had asked for the background behind their names, the eldest, Lock, said it was ‘an inside joke between the family’. Apparently it had something to do with their parents: a locksmith and an alchemist. 

They had collectively joined the Royal Guard nearly eight months ago, when their parent’s plans to sell a new alchemical weapon to the navy had failed due to, as Stock-and-Key so eloquently put it, ‘flank-backwards, horn-up-rump, tribalist, holier-than-thou bureaucratic horseapples perpetuated by inbred draft horses who couldn’t and wouldn’t see a good idea unless it came out of a unicorn’s horn and had Princess Celestia’s hand in marriage.’ While Luna could hardly speak for the ancestry of the current heads of the Equestrian military, she did notice some… traditional agents within the movers and shakers of Canterlot, military officers included. Her sympathy, as well as the genuine utility of their ‘bang dust’ (“The name’s a work in progress”), got all three of them a position within the Noctis Custodes. 

Speaking of which, it appeared that the triplets were in the midst of last-minute testing with a new device. Luna opted to loiter in the doorframe and observe.

“Are you sure you put enough saltpeter?” Stock barked.

“Yes, of course I did. Did you thread the fuse correctly?”  Barrel snapped back.

“How in Tartarus would I thread the fuse incorrectly? All you have to do is twist the cords and tie the ends together.” Stock sneered.

“Well someone had to have messed up, and I know I mixed the powder correctly! That kind of narrows down the list of suspects, doesn’t it?” Barrel accused.

“You slimy son of a catoblepas, are you saying I don’t know how to thread a Celestia-damned knott?”

“If the shoe fits, sis.”

Stock snarled, “You motherless son of a-” she lunged at him, locking the siblings in a clumsy blend of wrestling and slapping as they muttered barely-coherent obscenities at each other. The eldest, Lock, stood to the side and examined the cylinder. After a second he said, “Guys.”

His siblings did not take notice of his attempt to draw their attention.

“Guys!”

Again he went unnoticed. Lock sighed, rolled his eyes, and picked up another long match from the box. He struck it, placed the tube on the table, and held the match to the hole where the fuse had burned away. After a short few seconds, there was a loud *POP* as the device detonated.

The quarreling siblings jumped, as did all the other custodians. Swift Wind in particular yelped and cradled her arms into her chest. Luna winced internally. That would require some damage control.

“It was my bad,” Lock explained tiredly, “I didn’t link the fuse and the powder properly.”

The siblings stood there, slightly dumbfounded. In perfect synchronization, they mumbled, “Oh. Okay. Sorry about that,” to each other.

This seemed like a good moment for Luna to chime in. "And what purpose exactly does this device serve?"

The triplets yelped and scrambled to attention, as did the rest of the custodians. "Your Highness! We didn't notice you enter!"

"Yes, I gathered. At ease." The triplets relaxed, slightly. "Now then, my custodians, I asked you a question."

Lock stammered, “W-well, your Highness, we figured it could be used as a distraction in espionage operations, or in asymmetrical warfare."

Luna raised an eyebrow, "Explain, please."

Stock jumped in, "Well, the idea is that you would put this somewhere you want a group of enemy soldiers to go to. Then you light the fuse and vacate the area."

Barrel interjected, "And then, when the soldiers go to investigate the noise, you can sneak past them…"

"Or set up an ambush," Luna finished. "Very clever, Custodians."

They quietly beamed from the praise. 

"However, I would request that, in the future, you would test these devices in private." Luna gently reprimanded, gesturing to the other, somewhat miffed custodians in the room.  

Lock grimaced and giggled sheepishly. "Sorry your High-" He stopped, realizing his mistake. He then turned to the room, "Sorry everypony! Won't happen again!"

Everypony grumbled, but seemed to accept the apology.

After an awkward silence, Stock nudged Barrel in the side and whispered in his ear, “Hey, that explosion was pretty impressive. Did you up the sulfur percentage?”

“Yeah, I tried a few more grams to see if we would get a bigger boom. And that fuse burned really well, too.”

“Thanks, I had to stir for an extra few minutes to get the consistency of the ignition fluid consistent.”

Lock shook his head wryly. Luna laid a hand on his shoulder and spoke gently, “May I ask a rather unprofessional question, my custodian?”

“O-of course, your highness.”

“How do you manage them?”

Lock cracked a gentle smile, “They just need a nudge here and there to stay on track. You’ll be surprised what they can do together when they can keep their focus on it.”

“I certainly hope to be. Dismissed.” said Luna.

She left the triplets to sort themselves out. Hopefully they would manage themselves better once they were in the field. Next on her mental checklist (not a physical checklist, despite the glowing endorsements that Celestia’s protégé constantly espoused on their behalf) was Swift Wind. She was by far the most experienced of her custodians, having served three tours of duty in the Navy before being honorably discharged and retiring to her hometown, Cloudsdale. Unfortunately, her experiences in her final tour, and the attack on Dōkutsu City, left her soul damaged in a way not even the finest doctors could heal. Luna knew of at least three veteran’s therapists who resigned after trying to help her. And her nightmares… 

Luna felt a shiver run down her spine at just the shadow of the memory. To experience such violence and terror nightly… she had thought it unthinkable that anypony could endure such brutality and survive. Swift was strong, even after all she had been through. But she needed help, and Luna was dedicated to giving it to her.

Swift was quietly shaking in place, trying not to hyperventilate. Luna knelt down to her, speaking quietly, gently, “Remember what we talked about. Deep breaths.” 

She obeyed. Slowly, gently, the shakes began to subside as her breathing steadied. She looked up and into Luna’s eyes. “Sorry, your highness. I didn’t mean to-”

Luna held up a finger, “Not one word, custodian. You have nothing to apologise for.” Swift still looked guilty, and opened her mouth to apologize again. “Nothing, Swift. I mean it.” Swift huffed and smiled wryly. 

“Thank you, your highness.” 

Luna sighed. "Listen, Swift. I know I said you needed to go on this expedition, and I stand by that. But if you are absolutely uncomfortable with going, just say the word. I will understand completely."

Swift Wind frowned. “Your highness, the others need me. I can’t just drop out at the last second because I’m uncomfortable.”

“Yes you can,” said Luna, firmly. “There are times when you must put the wellbeing of others before your own, and there are times when you must do the opposite. You have sacrificed enough in the name of your siblings in arms, and that’s the last I’ll hear of it. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Princess.”

Luna laid a hand on Swift’s shoulder gently. “Good. Now rest up. We have a long day ahead of us.”

As Luna walked away she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that she had been too harsh with her. Ponies were much easier to console when they were dreaming, and diurnal stressors of ponies had always been her sister’s speciality. 

Moving on, she stopped at Night Sentinel’s bunk. A relatively young thestral stallion, he was the child of an arranged marriage intended to unite the two largest noble houses in his native city-state,  Dōkutsu City. He had won the proverbial lottery of thestral genetics: the strength and speed of his mother’s bloodline combined with his father’s heightened senses and echolocative abilities made him an invaluable asset to any outfit which took him in. She had been lucky the solar guard barred thestrals from enrolling. 

Night was currently hunched over his footlocker, slowly penning a letter with a subte scowl on his face. Luna craned her head to read the first lines. 

Rock Solid,
 
 I apologize for my inability to write to you after my graduation, but I’m happy to say I’m now a fully fledged Custodian in the ward of Princess Luna herself. The other custodians and I are about to embark on our first deployment together. Apparently, we are to escort the Princess on a diplomatic probe into an alien civilization. The civies are calling it ‘The Greatest Event in Equestrian History’, but personally I think they're exaggerating. We've met other species before, and I doubt this one will be that much different. 

Ah, yes, Luna thought, Commander Solid. The acting commander of all Equestrian ground forces in Dōkutsu City during that fateful day. He had risked his career getting Night out of a jail cell and into the guard, if the personal correspondence of his contemporaries was to be believed. Luna skimmed towards the end of the page, reading as Night wrote.

My only concern is with my fellow custodians. The Key Triplets, while undeniably ingenious, are undisciplined at the best of times. Our medical officer, First Response, is more concerned with exchanging biology notes with the aliens than safeguarding the Princess. And I am beginning to suspect Luna’s favored officer, Swift Wind, may be suffering from some sort of psychosis. She is withdrawn, and flinches at the slightest noise. This may make me a heretic in the eyes of the Diotheists, but I have serious doubts about the Princess’ choice of companions on this journey.

At this, Luna decided to speak up. “While I would be lying if I said I didn’t appreciate the second opinion, Custodian Sentinel, I would appreciate it if you brought these concerns to me before writing about them behind my back.”

Night looked up, not perturbed in the slightest. “Your Highness, this is me bringing my concerns to you.”

Luna scoffed and rolled her eyes. You can take the tomcat out of the street… “Your concerns are noted, Sentinel. However, I must ask that you trust my judgment on this matter. If not faith, then at least have a measure of confidence in my decision.”

Night shrugged, “Very well, your highness. I’ll trust your decision on this matter. But don’t expect me to be happy about working with them. Especially the triplets.”

“Do you have a problem working with them?”

“I’m sorry, what was that? I can’t hear you over this constant ringing in my ears.”

Luna tsked. “Sarcasm is considered poor form in the presence of royalty, custodian. That sort of insolence could get you in serious trouble.”

Night cocked an eyebrow, “Would you rather I worshipped the ground you walked on like the Solars do your sister?”

She cringed. “You make an excellent point. Continue with your impudent recalcitrance until further notice. Dismissed.”

Night barked a laugh as Luna walked off. As shocking as it may have been to the general public, Luna much preferred Night’s cavalier disregard for decorum to the idolatry the masses showered upon her sister. Though, at the end of the day, blind worship and prostration were still slightly preferable to widespread fear and contempt. Just slightly.

Finally, Luna reached the end of the room, where the final Custodian, a young unicorn mare named First Response, poured over a stack of textbooks. A prodigy in every sense of the word, First had gotten her cutie mark several years before average, after organizing a search party for her foal brother’s lost puppy. Blazing through medical academy, she enrolled in the Guard after a brief internship, in order to focus on saving lives out in the field rather than from behind a desk. She was reclining on her bed, flipping through a medical journal on… minotaur biology? 

“Custodian Response,” Luna said, “that’s a rather unorthodox choice of light reading. Might I ask why this textbook in particular?”

“Well, your highness, I’ve already finished the books on Griffons, as well as the few journals on dragons and changelings that’ve been published.” She gestured to the pile of books and papers next to her bunk, as if that explained everything.

“Um… yes, but, why are you studying xenobiology to begin with?”

“Oh! Well, you see, whatever is on the other side of the portal, they’ve got to be at least as advanced as us, right? Those elevated train tracks and high-rises don't build themselves! So I figured that, if we were to have an exchange of ideas, we needed as much scientific information at our fingertips as possible. So I asked the quartermaster to order as many up-to-date publications on the biological science of non-ponies! That way, when the exchange of ideas and knowledge opens between us and them, we’ll have something to give them beyond our own biology, and whatever odds and ends of general knowledge we can scrape together between us.”

Luna opened her mouth, then closed it. “...That is… a surprising level of foresight, custodian.”

First beamed, “Thank you, your Highness!”

“However, did you consider that, after we have made contact, the entire nation’s worth of doctors, mages, and physicians will be right behind us to facilitate this exchange of knowledge?”

Just as it had come, First’s smile melted off her face. “Well…” she stammered, “mmmaybe we’ll get cut off from Equestria, like if the portal closes after we go through it? Then we’ll have to wait for everyone else to follow us.”

“Let me assure you, custodian, that my sister’s thaumaturgists have done numerous tests on the portal. There is no indication that we will be trapped on the other side.”

“‘The absence of evidence is not evidence of absence’!”

Luna replied smoothly, “And the absence of evidence for absence is not evidence for presence.”

First opened her mouth to respond, but slumped down, admitting defeat. “You’re right. But I’m finishing this article, your highness.”

Luna nodded, “As long as your preparations for the voyage are completed, I permit this wholeheartedly. Dismissed.”







Sighing with confident satisfaction, Luna left the room and trotted to the commander’s office at the end of the hall. As she entered she paused in front of the full-body mirror mounted on the wall. Her dark blue trench coat was immaculately pressed, her silver buttons shined and buffered perfectly. The crescent sigils on her bosom and shoulders glowed lightly, coating her body in a subtle, but powerful shield spell.

As she fussed over her ponytail and muzzle fur, she felt a presence behind her. A powerful, ancient being, mighty and terrible, was creeping up behind her, ready to leap onto her and ruin everything she had accomplished. Luna tensed, waiting for the horrifying, abdominous creature to pounce, right until-

“EEEEEEE!! LUNA YOU LOOK SO HANDSOME!!!!!”

In hindsight, it was really more of a glomp than a pounce. 

Luna squawked as she tried, and failed, to untangle herself from Celestia’s impliable grasp. “Sister, please! You’ll dissarainge my habillement!”

Celestia giggled, squeezing tighter. “Sister, what have we said about using the archaic tongues in this day and age?”

“I will use whatever lexicon I wish outside the company of our subjects, you bedraggled crone! Now unhand me!”

Finally, reluctantly, Celestia let go, and Luna quickly set about fixing her outfit. Her magic ran up and down her coats, smoothing wrinkles and fixing buttons. When she was eventually satisfied, Luna faced her sister with a huff, who didn’t even have the common courtesy to pretend to be remorseful. 

“Oh, look at you, sister!” Celestia squeed; there was no other word to describe the noises she made, “You look so elegant! So regal! I'm so proud of you!” 

Luna rolled her eyes. “Sister, please. This is a momentous occasion, perhaps the most significant event in Equestrian history since the Founding. Please, at least try to take this more seriously.”

Celestia’s face fell slightly. She sighed, almost sadly, and nodded. “Oh, very well then. I suppose you’re right.”

Luna kept fussing over her appearance. Everything would be perfect for the ceremony, and then her subjects would truly see her. Not Nightmare Moon, or some upstart faux-princess, but Luna. Princess Luna. They would all finally love her.

Celestia cleared her throat and sheepishly asked, “Um… how are your guards doing, sister?”

Luna sighed, “They are well enough, I suppose. ‘Getting their ducks in a row’, to borrow the nomenclature of our subjects.”

“Forgive me if I overstep my station, sister, but are you sure it’s wise to take along somepony so… damaged?”

Luna scoffed. As if Celestia of all ponies could overstep her station. “Your concern is warranted, but Officer Swift must bond with her fellow custodians, and she won’t approach them without being pushed. Ponies form friendships best through shared adversity; I believe it was your student that demonstrated that best.”

Celestia giggled, “Well, I can’t deny that, can I?”

“Besides, in the unlikely event we do meet some unsavory company, myself and my other custodians are more than capable of handling it. Though I wish to avoid any violent confrontation if at all possible. She has seen too much bloodshed already.”

Luna could tell Celestia still had her doubts. She could read it on her face as if it were written in flaming red letters. Still, Celestia swallowed her objections and smiled. “As long as you’re certain, I trust your judgment, sister.”

Luna smiled and nodded, “I am certain. Now then, you have preparations of your own for the ceremony, do you not?”

Celestia nodded, and Luna turned away to the mirror. Celestia lingered, as if she had more to say. But instead she quietly shrunk back and walked away. Luna felt a small pang of something in her chest, but brushed it aside. Today was going to be perfect, and then everything would be the way it should be.







Several hours later, Luna stood with impeccable regality on the hastily erected stage in downtown Salt Lick. Celestia was hip-deep in a heartfelt, animated speech espousing the ‘Equestrian spirit’ and the ‘drive for discovery and friendship in all ponies’, or something along those lines. Luna found it hard to pay attention, to be honest. A hundred years of standing politely while her sister gave variations on the same speech to the masses made the rhetoric bleed together like watercolors in a monsoon. 

"And now, it is with great pleasure that I bid our gallant explorers farewell! May their expedition be bountiful and glorious!" Celestia threw her arms out theatrically, and the crowd went ballistic; just like they always had, and likely always would, for Celestia’s speeches. She had a knack for public speaking that Luna could never approach. 

Celestia turned, still waving to the crowd and strolled to Luna’s place on the stage. They clasped each other’s hands and Celestia whispered in her ear. “Be safe, sister.”

Luna rolled her eyes, “Of course, sister. Do not worry yourself over the 'what ifs' and the 'what coulds'. Nothing will go wrong; nothing can go wrong.”

The sisters shared a brief embrace which sparked another, smaller surge of cheers from the crowd. Luna smiled, and broke away to her guards. The six of them stood ahead of her, three on each side. Ahead lay the swirling portal; swaying, almost beckoning to her to step through it to another world, to her salvation.

Luna took a deep breath, exhaled, and stepped forward into her destiny.

And then everything went wrong.

The portal began to emit a high, piercing humming as the image on the other side began to warp and twist, like a funhouse mirror. Luna heard her sister demand an explanation, and heard the Grand Wizard offer only confusion. Her fur ruffled around her shoulders and her wings fluttered, but she held fast. 

Suddenly, the high pitched humming started to distort. It warped deeper and deeper, louder and louder. The scene across the portal changed for a split second. Beautiful skyscrapers became warped girders caked with rust. Lush parks became desolate, lifeless wastelands. 

The portal’s event horizon suddenly, rapidly bulged forward. The custodians didn’t have time to scream before they were overtaken. Luna looked back, tried to reach out to Celestia, tried to call out to her. But the portal swallowed her before the air could escape her lips.

Luna disappeared, and the portal snapped flat as quick as it had risen. The air around the stage was sucked in as the portal imploded with a powerful crack of magical energy. The whole thing took less than ten seconds.

As the ponies in the audience gathered their wits, and the quickest among them began to panic, Princess Celestia shivered. Her voice nearly cracked as she whispered,

“Luna?”
> Chapter 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Far, far away from Equestria, in a world of dust and monsters, seven humanoid creatures laid prone in a small clearing. Though the wind gently whirled above them, the air in the shallow crater lingered with an unnatural stillness. The sun set gently to the West, shining harsh light and oppressive heat across the desert. Long, deep shadows loomed over the land, cast by great mountains, thin trees, and… other things. 

First Response clutched her head as she gently sat up, wincing as a throbbing pain pulsed through her skull. She brushed the dirt out of her eyes and gently twisted her body this way and that. Her body cracked and popped from the slow movements, as if she had been lying still for days. She cleared the invading sand from her eyes with a gentle burst of magic; a cleaning cantrip that all unicorns in the medical corps were taught to remove foreign contaminants from wounds. She noted that it took slightly longer to cast than it usually did, and left a gentle burning in her eyes upon dissipating. Given the circumstances, it was likely nothing to worry about.

First blinked, ensuring her eyes were clear and undamaged, and cast her eyes around her to find the others. It didn’t take long: they seem to have fallen in the same formation as onstage in Salt Lick. Princess Luna stood unsteadily in the center, realigning the primaries on a wing she seemed to have fallen on. The triplets, lying to her left, were stacked on top of each other like sleeping puppies. Barrel, the only sibling to regain consciousness, was futility trying to squirm out from beneath his brother and sister. It was almost comical. A bitter, cruel sort of comedy.

The pegasus, Swift Wind if she remembered correctly, was still unconscious a few feet to her right. The thestral stood steadily on his feet behind Princess Luna; he must have woken up first. His slitted, yellow eyes were wide as dinner plates, staring up and across the horizon. Swift’s eyes drifted past him and locked onto the view, and suddenly she understood his shock.

The city they had seen through the portal at Salt Lick had been opulent and imperial. Great skyscrapers rivalling the tallest buildings in Manehattan lined the sky amid smaller, but no less impressive structures. Elevated train lines zig-zagged through the city carrying sleek, round train cars at lightning speed. Bright green trees framed the buildings throughout the skyline, blending industry and nature in perfect harmony. And all in the foreground of a beautiful, snow-dappled mountain range reaching even higher than the awesome towers.

The mountains were still there. Everything else wasn’t.

Instead of great skyscrapers, massive piles of stone and brick dominated the earth. Warped metal girders stuck out of the ground, hanging limply like the skeletons of ponies dead from thirst. Dry patches of brown, sickly grass were the only signs of life amid the horrible, wounded landscape. 

First stood there, horrified and captivated by the pure, almost beautiful devastation that stretched as far as the eye could see in all directions; Miles of dirt and sand and devastation, with no reprieve in sight. There were no signs of a battle. No rampaging beast, or pillaging army, or powerful magics. Everything seemed to have been… vaporized, all in a single instant.

“Um… your Highness?” Barrel choked from the bottom of the dogpile,  “I think we may have taken a wrong turn somewhere…”







Five minutes later, everypony had regained consciousness and recovered from the rocky arrival into this new world. Ten minutes after that, everypony had calmed down from their initial panic at seeing their surroundings. 

“Alright,” Stock-and-Key said, taking a long drag from her canteen, “I think I speak for everypony when I ask, What the Hay?”

“Something went wrong,” Swift Wind muttered, clipped and quiet as she scanned the horizon around them.

“NO.” Stock clapped her hands against her cheeks, faux-shocked. “That’s Amazing! Way to piece that together, Fetlock Hooves, none of us would’ve ever figured that out!” Lock-and-Key gently rubbed Stock’s neck, murmuring quiet platitudes to calm down. Stock waved him off, but fell silent regardless.

“Specialist,” Princess Luna sternly reprimanded, “Your sarcasm is not called for, nor is it appreciated. Now is not the time to begin turning on each other like a band of common highwayponies.

“Now, is everypony uninjured?” The custodians nodded hesitantly. “Good. Now, we should begin searching for civilization.”

First blinked in surprise. Night Sentinel, that was his name, interjected, “Civilization? Your highness, look around you. Everything is destroyed; there’s no civilization anywhere here.”

“That mountain range is identical to the one we observed from the Equestrian side of the gate.” Princess Luna pointed to said mountain range, and she was correct: it was unmistakably the same mountain range. “That means the metropolis we saw in the foreground of those mountains was real: Not even the most meticulous illusionist would take the time to fashion mountains so exact to the ones on this end of the gate; not when it would hold no bearing on the credibility of the trap. With that in mind, there are two alternatives: Either the portal deposited us in an alternate, parallel dimension to the one we saw, or it deposited us into a different era in time.”

“... Alright,” Night eventually responded, “That makes a bit of sense, but I still don’t see how that leads us to ‘other civilization’.”

“No city gets as large as the one we observed without external communities,” Princess Luna explained. “To grow to such a size a community needs a large population; gathered through immigrants from surrounding communities. Those inhabitants require food; gathered from surrounding farms and agricultural communities. They need housing and workspace; raw material must be imported from external deposits: Wood, stone, iron, marble. More communities need to exist around those raw material deposits to export them to the city. 

“Cities cannot exist in a vacuum. It always needs imports and proximate support. Otherwise, it is unsustainable.”

First realized where the Princess was leading, “So the odds are good that some of those communities survived whatever destroyed this city!”

Princess Luna nodded, “Precisely. Those communities, wherever they may be, are our best chance to survive this ordeal. But first, we will need to survey our surroundings. Wind, Sentinel, you will accompany me to the skies. The rest of you, take inventory of our supplies. We may need to shed any equipment that does not aid our flight from this place.” Luna unfurled her wings, kicked off of the ground with a single, powerful flap, and ascended about two feet before plummeting like a stone.

Princess Luna twisted midair in surprise, just barely managing to keep herself upright as she landed heavily on the ground. Swift Wind rushed to her side, “Your Highness! Are you alright? What happened?”

The princess waved her off, “I’m fine, I’m fine.” She looked up into the sky, eyes tracing the air currents as they swept dust and debris through the sky. Luna muttered, “I wonder...” and took flight again, more carefully this time. She made steady progress with a gentle ascent, and turned downward to the custodians once she reached a sufficient height, “Sentinel, Wind, be sure you do not make any abrupt movements while airborne! There is something off about this world; I suspect the ambient thaumaturgic field is very different from Equestria’s!” Princess Luna turned back and resumed her ascent. Swift Wind promptly took flight to follow the princess, but Night stayed aground, looking up at the pegasus and alicorn curiously. After a moment, he glanced at the other custodians, 

“D’ya notice how those two seem a bit closer than they ought to?”

First had noticed, but felt it inappropriate to mention out loud. Lock replied coolly, “Whether they are or not, it’s of no concern to us, is it?” 

Night stared out into space, unmoving. “...No, I suppose it isn’t. Je ne.” Night’s leathery wings flared out and sent him skywards, bearing in the opposite direction Princess Luna and Swift were flying. 

The four remaining ground-bound custodians squirmed in the awkward silence that descended on the clearing. After several long seconds, Barrel shot up a hand and cried, “Dibs on weapons checking!” His siblings groaned, and First felt a chuckle float past her lips. Maybe we’ll get through this after all. 







Ten minutes later, First Response shifted on the coarse gravel beneath her feet, trying to find a comfortable position as she tallied up their rations and medical supplies. A magical scan of their foodstuffs had sputtered out and given her a headache in the meantime, so she had resorted to sifting through all the bags by hand and putting them into piles of ‘necessities’; ‘debatable’; and ‘dead weight’.

Most of the dead weight was luxury foods and spices, brought over to exchange with the aliens when they made contact. A gaggle of small jars filled with Appleoosan jellies and jams; A mix of herbs and spices prepared by a famous chef in Manehattan; Seaweed harvested off the coast of Baltimare. All of this was cast aside. No space could afford to be afforded to diplomatic gestures that they may not live to conduct in the first place. The debatables were made up twofold: foodstuffs and provisions that had been damaged during their arrival, and luxury items that were nevertheless light and calorie-dense enough to consider retaining. 

First was currently examining a case of the former: A cloth bag of seeds and nuts harvested from the Cervidian Empire. Normally it would have easily stayed: deer were renowned for their uncanny ability to imbue extranatural power into their foodstuffs. Not to mention that they would provide a convenient, non-cumbersome source of protein and nutrients. But the bag had been torn when they arrived. A small gash, but enough to form a hole large enough for the tiny morsels to easily spill out. 

First gently placed the bag tear-side up in the ‘debatable’ pile. She reached for a canteen when she felt a poke in her side, followed by,

“So how’s it looking?” 

First glanced over her shoulder and saw Barrel-and-Key, fixing her with curious, almost childlike eyes. “It could be worse,” First winced as she stretched over to a bag of gauze and checked it for contaminants, “We brought about a week's worth of food for the expedition: we anticipated that the alien’s foodstuffs weren’t fit for pony consumption. Dried grains, dried grasses, with a few bags of nuts and seeds here and there. Most of it looks undamaged, so we should be able to stretch this to two weeks if we really need to.

“More concerning is our water supply. We’ve only got enough to last us three days, at most. That’ll probably be our top priority once we find shelter.” First glanced at Barrel, who was staring vacantly in the distance; he had clearly zoned out. She shook her head in disbelief. How can someone with an attention span that short get into the guard at all, much less get assigned to a Princess?

First gave the gauze in her hands a final onceover, deemed it clean enough for use and tossed it in the ‘necessities’ pile. “How about our weapons?” she asked.

Barrel snapped back to attention. “Right! So, we’ve got six spears, each with a stunning spell that should safely immobilize any living thing that touches the tip. Twenty bolts for the crossbow, a sword, and about thirty of our bang sticks.”

First raised an eyebrow. “‘Bang sticks’?”

He sighed, “Look, we know it’s stupid. But we needed to name them something, and the only other ideas we came up with were ‘poppers’ and ‘nutcrackers’. Give us a break.”

First huffed a laugh and picked up one of the aforementioned ‘bang sticks’ and scanned it curiously. “So how exactly do these things work? Does it catalyst some homebrew firework cantrip or something?”

“Ha!” Barrel guffawed, “As if! This stuff is absolutely, 100% magic-free. Not a speck of hornspark or anything in these!”

First gaped. “Shut the front door. How the hay do these things work without magic?”

“I’m so glad you asked.” Barrel leaned forward excitedly and pulled out a small pouch from his belt, “So, the powder itself is made up of three components, charcoal, sulf-”

“Hey Bare! ”He was cut off by a low shout from his sister, Stock. “Ya finished inspecting our arms yet?”

Barrel shouted back, “No, checking for injuries is more miss Response’s job! Our weapons are doing just fine though!” First laughed despite herself at the atrocious pun.

Stock shook her head; this was clearly par for the course for her baby brother. “Just quit geekin’ at the medic and get over here! Lock needs help buffing out a dent in his chestplate!” 

Barrel sighed, “Aw, horseapples. Well, I gotta go take care of that. But hey, I’ll explain it to you later, I promise!”

First nodded, “I’ll hold you to that.” She watched quietly as Barrel stood up and walked to his siblings before calling out, “Hey, Barrel!” Barrel turned curiously. “‘Hornspark’?”

He grinned, “Baltimare slang! S’what all the sailors back home call unicorn magic!”

First smiled gently. Her eyes lingered on the young earth pony as he squatted down beside his siblings and fussed over a dented breastplate. Perhaps she had judged him too soon; underneath that childlike attitude and attention deficit there was a genuine enthusiasm for his work, and likely a mastery to go with it. She wondered how much there was to him beneath the surface. She wondered how much there was to all of her coworkers.

Group bonding can wait, though. Need to focus on the highest priority. And at that moment, First’s highest priority was checking the dandelion stems for rot. It was tedious, but there were worse things.







Soon, Princess Luna touched down in the clearing with a heavy thud. She looked a bit winded, and was carrying a long roll of parchment in her hand. Scant moments later, Night and Swift touched down as well. After the state of their provisions was relayed, Princess Luna unfurled the parchment to reveal a rough map. “Normally I would be able to generate better cartography than this; the spell threatened to burn itself out when I tried to add greater detail to the image. But this will suffice for now. Do any of you have something to dictate with?”

Barrel hopped up and began rummaging through the sack hanging from his belt. After a few moments he produced a chunk of charcoal, which his brother promptly shaved to a point and handed to the Princess. 

“Thank you,” she said, “I cannot provide any specific pathway or exit: only landmarks,” Princess Luna levitated the charcoal and dragged it against the parchment. “Most of the skyscrapers we saw on the other side have been leveled completely, and those that haven’t have been reduced to melted skeletons. Those are mostly around the borders of the ruins.” She quickly marked their approximate locations on the map. “We may be able to use these to help navigate our absconding. 

“Proceeding, there is a large lake to the Northwest of the ruins, which could prove to mitigate our water supply issues, at least for the time being. It is a long ways away; we should consider carefully before we make any expeditions in that direction.

“Speaking of, Warrant Officer Swift, what do you have to report?”

Swift Wind straightened, slipping into old, hard-wired conditioning when the Princess called her by rank. “Yes, your highness!" She gestured to the top-right of the map, "First and foremost: we're definitely in a desert. There's nothing but sand and bushes to the North as far as the eye can see. Considering how temperate it is currently and how the sun hasn't set yet, it's likely safe to assume there will be very cold nights and very hot days. The ruins extend about twelve miles to the East, ending just at the base of the mountain. There are no visible signs of habitation anywhere inside the ruins or on the mountains. However, to the North is a large, well-maintained road leading out of the ruins."

Stock clocked an eyebrow skeptically, "What exactly do you mean when you say 'maintained'?"

"I mean that it was completely intact. Pristine asphalt pavement, markings to indicate lanes of traffic, even regular lighting posts. It wouldn't look out of place on the streets of Manehattan."

Luna hummed curiously, “Well, that removes any doubt: there is definitely some form of civilization in this realm. And if they have the power to light the roads that are not close to any habitation, they must be prosperous indeed.” She pointed to the map, at the point where the ruins ended and the desert began. “And the road just ended? Why would anyone bother maintaining a road that leads to a place like this?”

Swift answered, “The road continued into a small, concrete building. The shutters were rusted shut and there were no other entrances.”

“Well then, it is a mystery that must rest unsolved for the time being. Do you have anything else to report, Warrant Officer?” Swift shook her head negative, and Luna nodded. “Very well. Good work.” Luna turned to her right and addressed the thestral, “Master Sergeant Sentinel, what have you to report?”

“Hm?” Night grunted as he looked up from the map, “Oh, sorry. I was just thinking… nah, it’s irrelevant. Anyways-” 

First balked, dimly aware of her mouth falling open in shock. To address a superior officer with such disregard and blasé was one thing, but addressing a Princess that way was another entirely. The triplets were similarly stunned, and First Response looked ready to tear his throat out. The most surprising reaction, however, was the Princess’s. Or rather, the lack thereof.

“Master Sergeant, any input you can provide is not unwelcome. Please speak freely.”

Night cracked a tiny smile, “Well, the thing is that I saw something very similar to the South. A lit, immaculately maintained road that ended in a squat concrete structure at the edge of the ruins, just like what Miss Wind described. I’ll bet they even look identical if we compared the two.”

First gulped as she watched Swift begin to turn red at being referred to as ‘Miss’. Princess Luna did not address the breach of formality, and rubbed her chin thoughtfully, “You think they may be connected somehow?”

“It makes sense,” Night nodded, “There might be a tunnel running under the city. Or a portal network connecting the two buildings. Or any number of possibilities; We won’t know one way or another unless we get inside.

“Anyways, besides that there’s a few more things.” Night pointed Northwest of the ruins on the map. “That lake you mentioned? Saltwater.”

Princess Luna muttered a few sullen words under her breath. First couldn’t understand the language, but it sounded rather profane. “How saline is it? Low enough to purify?”

Night shook his head emphatically, “It’s gotta be ten times saltier than seawater. I could literally smell it from a mile away. It might as well be brine, to be honest.”

She sighed, magically snatching away the charcoal and crossing off the lake on the map. “Well, let us consider that option null.” She looked up at Night, “Anything else?”

He hummed thoughtfully, tapping his finger against his chin, “No, I don’t think- oh, right! I almost forgot. There’s a motel a few miles down the highway.”

“…”

“What?”

Stock reached over her brother’s head and calmly cuffed Night across the head, making him yelp in pain.

“Ai, abazure! Those ears are sensitive!”

Stock didn’t look remorseful in the slightest. “You little bloodsucker, you couldn’t have started with that?”

The two looked ready to spit venom at each other, but Princess Luna silenced them both with a silent, scathing glance. “Enough. Sergeant, do you mean you saw a lodge?”

Night cast a final glower at Stock before addressing the Princess, “Well, the word on the sign was ‘hostel’, but I suppose you could call it a lodge.”

“How far?”

“South, about ten miles as the pegasus flies. I got a good look at the terrain between there and us: it would probably take us about five or six hours to reach it.”

“Very well, then. It is decided. Sergeant Sentinel, draw us a path through the ruins. The rest of you, adorn and armor yourselves. We have a long hike ahead of us.”







"Sinkhole there," Swift pointed to an innocuous patch of dirt sitting in their path, which in reality concealed a forty-foot drop into a vast cavern. “We’ll have to go over the hill to avoid it.”

“Aw, dangit!” Stock-and-Key groaned, “How many of these pitfalls are we gonna run into before we’re out of this Celestia-forsaken place?” 

“Going by the amount of sinkholes we have had to avoid over the past two hours,” Swift Wind commented, “statistically we’re going to run into thirty six more, with a margin of error of about four.”

“Oh, ha ha.” Stock jeered, “Now the ice queen fancies herself a statistician? As if things couldn’t get any worse around here. Maybe you wanna calculate our odds of getting out of this dilapidated wreck without losing all of our- AAGH!” Stock recoiled as Lock calmly plugged his finger up her ear. “Alright alright! I get it, I’ll cut it out already! Jeez, ya little freak.”

Princess Luna backed away from the deceptively unstable patch of gravel, “Calm yourself, Specialist Stock. If Night Sentinel says that this is the only passable route South, then I trust his evaluation. If it means taking a few detours around hazards invisible from the sky, then it is worth the extra effort.”

“Your highness, with all due respect, why are we even making this hike in the first place? We have enough ponies who can fly to carry the rest of us who can’t: Why aren’t we just flying straight South?”

“For the same reason our Moonlamp keeps going out.” As if on cue, the gentle sphere of moonlight hovering above the ponies’ heads sputtered and puffed into nothing. Princess Luna immediately recast the spell as She spoke, “I do not know why or how, but the ambient thaumaturgic field of this world is much less stable than that of Equestria. Any magical exertion beyond the bare minimum granted by our bodies will be unreliable at best and actively dangerous at worst.” The orb rolled into existence between Her hands, and She tossed it skyward where it hung, silently illuminating the path ahead. “Were Lieutenant Response’s talent not specifically suited to plotting a course through such perilous geography as this, or were she unable to successfully cast said spell, I may agree with you regarding the merit of overland flight. But safety is our highest priority, not speed. I would rather spend fifty minutes scaling a promontory than twenty minutes putting one or more of you in a splint after falling four stories into a trench.”

Stock grumbled something about bats and caves before falling in line at the dip between the hills; First assumed it likely wasn’t complimentary. Barrel hopped off the hill and clapped his sister on the back, “Hey cheer up, Stocky! Sure, we might have to go the long way around, but look on the bright side! Now you’ll finally get the chance to work on your thighs!”

Stock met her brother’s beaming smile with a withering glare. “You aren’t as funny as you think you are.”

The surprisingly scathing insult slid off Barrel like water off a duck. “No, I’m not. I’m funnier! Now come on then, forge onward!” Barrel strode forward with a gallant gesture, leaving Stock to shake her head and sigh as she followed.

First Response was beginning to get frustrated with Stock’s abrasive behavior. This journey would be hard enough without infighting. In fairness, she could hardly fault her frustration in this specific instance; After over two hours of trekking through the ruins, it felt like they had traveled less than two miles. The path Night Sentinel drew was long and winding, swerving and zigzagging between hills and around craters, making a roundabout route to the Southern edge of the city. They were lucky that her Special Talent could map out the ground underneath them. Otherwise, they likely would have to poke every step they took with a ten foot pole.

Speaking of Night, he was chuckling to himself under his breath. He likely still held a grudge against Stock for the cuff upside the head. First glanced over her shoulder and asked, “How much longer should we expect until we’re out of here?”

“About three hours. We made good time so far; we’re almost halfway there. But that was the easy part. It’s gonna take us a lot longer to make the next few miles.

“And you’re sure this is the right way?”

“Positive,” he replied, pulling out the map and pointing at the black scrawl that marked their route, “See, those are the huge mounds we just went around, and the patch of rocks to our South is dotted with metal spikes and bars; likely the remains of a skyscraper or two. It’s impossible to navigate safely, given our inexperience with rock climbing. We’ll have to go East and then Southeast to avoid it. Then we move around a few hills South until we come to a passing across this river.”

“Why’d you circle the road after we cross the river?”

“The path after that is almost completely clear. Once we get over that landbridge, it’s smooth sailing to the lodge.”

First nodded and handed the map back, “While I understand your decision to prioritise safety over speed, have you considered that it might be more dangerous to spend longer outside at night?”

“Well, considering we’re being escorted by the Princess of the Night herself, I figured it was a lesser risk.”

She concurred. With Luna herself at their backs, they were unlikely to encounter anything truly dangerous. “Alright then, fair enough. Stallions first.”

Night dipped into a shallow bow with a grin, and heaved up and over her head with a flap of his leathery wings. First scoffed good-naturedly at his showmanship, and trudged behind him as he gracefully bounded up the hill.

As she climbed, she found herself looking behind her at Princess Luna. Her mane and tail seemed to have lost a good amount of their magical energy; the eternal breeze they flowed in dropping to a gentle, sporadic draft. Though She seemed outwardly calm and confident, First couldn’t help but get the feeling that She was in over Her head. 

Before she could dwell on the implications of an immortal, nigh-omnipotent demigod being nervous, she bumped headfirst into Night’s loinguard. She rubbed her cheek and began to ask what the holdup was, and then she saw his face. 

When she was very young, hardly out of fillyhood, she did volunteer work at a veterinary hospital to help her chances of being accepted into the Stampford Medical Academy at Trottingham. The experience, in addition to giving her a healthy appreciation for leather gloves, had taught her a lot about body language and non-verbal indications of mood and temperament. Specifically, that there were certain queues that were universal indicators of anxiety across all creatures: pointed ears, low stance, wide eyes, small pupils, ruffled fur.

By those metrics, Night Sentinel looked downright terrified.

He slowly turned to glance at her, silently pressing his finger to his lips. First knew from looking at him that he was serious, and signalled the rest of the group to hold up and keep quiet. Once she saw the others kneel down in wait, she asked, “what is it? something up ahead?”

Night nodded, “something, but I can’t figure out what. gonna take another look, try not to breathe too loudly,” He crept silently up the hill, but rather than ascend to peer over the edge he halted just short of it. First noticed small vibrations hitting her horn, all focused from the summit of the hill. Just as quick as she felt them they were gone, and Night crept back to her side and whispered, “alright, it’s got four legs, it’s at least five feet long, doesn’t breathe, and can’t weigh much more than four pounds.”

First blinked. “that’s... really specific. how can you tell all this?”

“same way you can see where the sinkholes are.”

Oh. Sonic pulses. That’s what she felt when he went to ‘go look’. “I thought thestrals couldn’t echolocate.”

“some can. signal Luna, we need to update her on the situation.”

Pushing aside her disbelief that he had the audacity to refer to the Princess by her first name, First twisted around and waved for the Princess to approach them. She did, quietly, and asked, “What is the-”

“Quiet!” Night hissed. First winced and waited for the bolt of divine retribution, but instead Luna complied.

“what is the cause for alarm?”

“there’s something up ahead. not sure what it is or what it’s doing, but it’s right on the other side of this hill.”

“interesting,” Luna replied, humming thoughtfully. “Perhaps it is bait for an ambush?”

“unlikely. I only heard it because of these,” he gently flicked his earlobe, “and bait is supposed to attract attention, not avoid it.”

“there is wisdom in that. do you think we should go around?”

“no, I don’t. this is still the only safe route along the path, unless we want to take our chances with that sinkhole. we should confront it, and either parlay or scare it off.” 

“very well. I shall return to the group and await your signal.”

Luna spread her wings and gently floated down the hill. Once First saw her land, she turned back to Night, “what about me?”

Night looked her up and down, appraising her. “You go first.  My spear will be more effective from a distance than your sword.”

First saw the logic in his words, and complied. As he gently tip-toed up the hill, lightly flapping his wings to dampen his footfalls, First positioned herself in front and to the right of him. She readied her sword and heard subtle shifting of armor and cloth behind her, indicating that Night had done the same with his spear. 

After what felt like hours but was more likely thirty seconds, they stopped just in front of the crest. First glanced back and nodded her head towards the top of the hill. Night understood immediately. He held still for a few seconds save for the imperceptibly minute twitches of his large ears. He relaxed and nodded, confirming that the creature was in fact still on the other side. 

First took a deep breath and steeled herself to rise and greet whoever was over there, and stopped suddenly. Whoever was over there would most likely not take kindly to having a sword waved in their face. The thought that whatever was over there might simply attack her on sight was swept away with little consideration. The thought that she hadn’t given her first thought more consideration was also discarded quickly. 

She gently flipped her sword in her hand and slid it into its scabbard. Night went bug-eyed and whisper-shouted, “what are you doing?? you’re going to get yourself-”

First silenced him with a sharp look and a finger to her lip. Night gritted his teeth and braced himself to attack. He likely imagined he would have to save her from some unholy monster. 

“Hello?” she said as she climbed up the hill, no longer dampening her footsteps. “Is anycreature over there?” She got her answer in the form of quick, shuffling footsteps over the lip of the hill. Whatever it was, it was tapping its feet in place, hopefully in happiness. “My name is Lieutenant First Response. I’m a member of a group of-”

And then it pounced on her.

She didn’t even have time to gasp in shock. All that registered was a blur of earthy browns hurtling towards her, two jagged forelimbs racing downwards to mutilate her torso. Suddenly her legs were knocked out from under her. She fell backwards and hit the ground with a heavy thud. Her breath abandoned her, and she gasped desperately for air while she flailed to find purchase as she slowly slid down the mound of rubble. The sensation of being grabbed around the ankle, and the sight of a skinny, long blur of motion sailing over her body, barely registered as she frantically sucked air into her body.

She heard a scream from the bottom of the hill. Raw, terrified screaming, overpowering the frantic shouts of alarm. A whine of magic and a whistle of air resistance. A skitter of limbs and a flutter of wings. A deep, staccato burst of hissing. The hand on her ankle left, and she felt a gust of wind as something kicked off from her side. Night Sentinel, she realized, had leapt down to help. She heard one spear impact, without the telltale zap of the stunning spell that should have followed. She heard a second spear strike its target, again without the stunning spell. Then, silence.

Well, not total silence. She heard labored breathing, her own and those of her fellow ponies, and the occasional gust of wind in her ears. But relatively silent. Confident she had stuffed enough air in her lungs, she turned over with a groan and forced herself to her knees.

At the bottom of the hill were enough clues to piece the scene together. The creature had lunged at her from the cover of the hilltop, using its wings to curve around the peak. Night had reacted quick enough to knock her legs out from under her, saving her from the lacerations and blood loss that she surely would have suffered had he not been slower. Then the creature, not one to let new circumstances dissuade a fresh kill, maintained its momentum by gliding down the hill and latching onto Lock-and-Key’s torso. Luna grabbed it with her magic (as She was the only one with magic besides Lock and First), and ripped the creature off of him. Her telekinetic toss must have failed mid-swing, as the thing was able to reorient itself mid-flight and land on its legs. Before it could strike again, though, Barrel-and-Key had rushed over and skewered it. But the dullness of the blade, in addition to the failure of the stunning spell to activate, left it alive, thus necessitating Night Sentinel to leap down from on high and finish the job.

The aforementioned creature, by the way, happened to be a brown praying mantis. A brown praying mantis approximately the size of an adolescent Earth Pony.

First let herself fall backwards onto her rump and heaved air into her lungs. She was only idly aware of the state of her fellow custodians; Swift Wind had firmly placed herself in between the mantis and Princess Luna, who was intensely scanning the towering hills for additional threats; Lock was still shaken from his impromptu insect-glomp, and Stock was fussing over his face and arms looking for injuries; Barrel gingerly poked the crumpled pile of chitin and hemolymph with the end of his spear, as if expecting it to spring up and leap at them at any moment; Night Sentinel was leaning heavily on his spear, the sprint-like leap off the hill apparently took a lot out of him.

“Alright,” Barrel finally said, “I think I speak for everypony when I say, What in the apple-bucking heck just happened??”

“Mantid,” Night shuddered, “Brown coloration indicates a hot, arid habitat. Size indicates unnatural, possibly magical enhancement. In summary: Watashitachi wa ōkina kiki ni hin shite imasu.”

“I’m sorry,” Stock stammered, surprisingly earnest, “Could you run that by us again? In ponish, preferably?” 

First heaved herself to her feet, “He said ‘we are in grave danger’. And he’s right,” she gingerly made her way down the hill as she spoke. She turned to address the Princess, “Your Highness, mantises are masters of camouflage and ambush hunting. The longer we stay here the more likely we’ll be attacked again.”

Luna nodded, “I concur. We must move posthaste, lest we be accosted again. Specialist, are you alright?”

Lock still looked shook, but he pushed himself off of his sister’s shoulder and nodded, “It didn’t get me. I… I just don’t like bugs, is all.”

After Barrel insisted on giving the corpse a final poke, they began swift ascent up the hill. Luna nestled up beside Swift in front of the other custodians, “Do you know much about mantids?”

Swift nodded, “A little; my little brother kept one as a pet when we were foals. He was so fascinated by them that I learned a bit about them just by being around him. They’re cannibalistic; they eat just about anything they can kill; the female sometimes eats the male during mating, but not always; they-”

“I mean, do you know much about what they are capable of? In terms of hunting?”

“Oh. Sorry, your Highness.” First blushed, “Anyways, it varies from species to species, but mostly they can’t use their wings to fly, only to increase the distance of their leaps. They attack by blending into their surroundings and ambushing their prey; but they’re mostly solitary hunters.”

“So we most likely won’t encounter them in large groups?” Princess Luna asked.

“Yeah, mantises usually steer clear of each other unless it’s mating season,” she and Luna reached the top of the hill, “The odds of us running into more than one at a time are-” She looked away from the Princess and froze, choking on the final word. “-slim.”

Everypony else had halted, suspended in shock and terror. Only Night Sentinel could muster speech. “Ā, Watashi o fakku.”

Blanket. That was the only way Swift could describe it. An endless blanket of giant mantises. It stretched out in every direction she looked, even behind them where there once was clear landscape. The greys and brown-reds of the ruins were completely covered by fluttering wings and scraping chitin. 

They crawled out of burrows and dugouts. They scurried over bricks and stones, and each other. And they were all staring.

“...why aren’t they attacking?” Stock squeaked in a terrified whisper.

“They’re waiting.” Swift Wind spoke, and she almost kept the nervous waver out of her voice. “Waiting for us to blink.”

“Custodians,” Princess Luna said, quietly but firmly, “Assume defensive positions. Slowly. No sudden movements. Warrant Officer, keep overwatch with the crossbow. The rest of you are to take up spears and form a loop around me. Do not stray more than six feet away from each other under any circumstances.”

They complied, quickly forming a rough pentagon around The Princess. First’s focus zipped erratically around the landscape. She saw Lock-and-Key, literally shaking in his boots; Entomophobia, most likely. She saw Swift Wind, doing her best to cover every direction with the crossbow without making any sharp movements; Her body was almost pressed up against the Princess. She saw a mantis, about twenty feet away, gnawing at its foreleg with its mandibles. 

“Alright,” Luna said, softly, “I believe I have a plan. First, you said that mantises cannot use their wings for sustained flight, correct?” First nodded anxiously, “Then we must risk overland flight to evade them. Swift Wind, Night Sentinel; you each take one pony, I will carry the other-”

A crash of falling rocks echoed across the hills. Barrel jumped back from the edge of the hilltop, a chunk of debris at his feet falling loose and tumbling down the hillside. The rocks slid down the hillside into the ocean of mantises, making them skitter and flutter out of their path. Everypony glared. Barrel could only say;

“Aw, glue.”

And the wave surged forward.

The Princess screamed, “BRACE!!”, and threw up a magic shield around the ponies. First cringed and leveled her spear at the horde. The mass of chitin and hunger impacted the shield with the sound of a thousand sparrows hitting a window at once. They clambered over each other to reach their prey, crawling up the dome and covering the entire surface. Moonlight was blotted out by the mass of insects, leaving only the light of the Princess’s horn to illuminate them. 

“Your highness!” Lock yelled over the din, “What now?”

She didn’t respond. First tore her eyes away from the horde and looked back. Princess Luna was straining. Sweat beaded off Her muzzle like a faucet, and the light of Her horn sputtered and sparked like a broken fuse. Her eyes were screwed shut in exertion as she let her head hang forward.

To the left, First heard a wicked sound like tearing metal, followed by Stock shouting, “CONTACT!”

A jagged gash in the dome admitted two mantises from the horde, a third was cut in half by the fissure resealing. They were swiftly struck down by Stock and Night, but another tear opened on the opposite side, allowing four more mantids to slip through. 

First rushed and cut one down as Swift Wind swiftly (go figure) struck down the others with three rapid jabs of her spear. Two more tears opened, allowing more in. They were all cut down quickly, but Lock was nearly slashed across the calf before Night halted the mantis with a thrown dagger.

“Princess, we can’t keep this up much longer!” Night shouted as he retrieved his blade. “You got another plan?” 

“no”

First nearly tripped over her feet, “Your highness? Did I hear you correctly?”

“No.”

Princess Luna wasn’t speaking to her. She wasn’t speaking to anypony. The word instead… boomed out of her mouth, echoing off of nothing and pushing a cloud of dust away from Luna’s feet. 

“Um, your highness?” Barrel stammered. “Is… is something wrong?”

Luna’s head snapped up. Her eyes were wide open now, glowing light blue with raw power, her pupils slitted and ringed with turquoise. Her face twisted into a vicious snarl, and her voice rang out deeper and harsher:

“NO!”

The air pressure shifted. First felt her ears pop. Outside the dome, she heard a violent, bone-chilling CRUNCH. The mantises were being crushed against the shield by an outside force. In seconds, they were all reduced to shards of chitin and splashes of hemolymph as that nauseating CRUNCH went on and on without reprieve. 

With a burst of wind as the air repressurised, the dome violently unfolded. So great was the force of the motion that the pulverized corpses of the mantids sailed through the air in all directions, some flying for over a mile before impacting with a meaty THUD. 

Princess Luna’s eyes returned to normal, she took two deep breaths, and then she collapsed.

“NO!” Swift Wind cried out, dropping the crossbow as she flew (literally) to the Princess’s side. She ran her hands over Her neck and face. “She’s still alive!” she cried.

More mantises trickled into sight, emerging from all directions. Night screamed, “Then pick her up and RUN!!” 

There was no time to ask questions. Swift wind scooped up the Princess and the crossbow as the ponies fled in a dead run. Night took point to lead the way, and First saddled behind him to watch for deadfalls. As more mantids emerged into view, First noticed that most of them were ignoring the ponies in favor of fighting over the remains of their kin. In fact, more than one mantis leaped right over their heads to pick at the smeared corpse of another. Oh right, she thought, they’re cannibals.

Night Sentinel was on the same page, “We need to get out of the open before they stop fighting over each other!” Scant moments after the words left his mouth, another mantis skittered over to the fleeing ponies. Lock quickly struck it down, but other stragglers began to break off from the feeding frenzy and harass them.

As they ran to the base of another hill, First noticed that a burrow was dug into the hillside. She had an idea. “Wait! Follow me!” she shouted as she broke off and ducked into the mouth of the tunnel.

Overlapping shouts of protest were overridden by Swift shouting, “No, she’s right! Everypony into the hole!”

Despite doubts the others likely harbored, everypony followed suit and dove into the hole behind her. Once everypony was inside, First explained, “If we go through the burrows, we’ll be able to shave hours off the trip.”

Night Sentinel added, “Not to mention it’ll be easier to fend off an ambush in here than topside. Alright,” he pointed to the triplets, “One of you three light a torch and watch the rear. I’ll take point. The rest of you, protect the Princess.”

It took some awkward squeezes to get into position, but urgency kept it brief. They ran down the tunnels like that for at least twenty minutes. Swift and Lock carried the Princess through the tunnels; Barrel watched for movement behind them while Stock kept the crossbow at the ready; Night would use his Special Talent to scan ahead for hidden threats while First used hers to chart their course. 

To First’s surprise, it went without much incident. Occasionally Stock would send a bolt flying down the tunnel to pierce a straggler harassing them from behind; every once in a while Night would suddenly leap to the side of the tunnel and skewer a mantis hidden amongst the rocks and burrows. But the giant swarm of insects that covered the ruins topside like grass were nowhere to be found. She figured that they were busy fighting each other over the easy meals Luna had inadvertently provided.

“We’re almost there!” First shouted, “The exit’s right around this bend!” 

Sure enough, rounding the corner revealed a beacon of moonlight shining through a hole atop a steep slope. Swift Wind yelled, “Lieutenant! We’ll clear the area before you come up! Take Luna and hang back with the others! Fruit bat, you’re with me!”

First obeyed unthinkingly, taking the Princess’ shoulder opposite from Lock and stopping at the foot of the incline. Night was less compliant, “Um, sorry, ‘fruit bat’?” Swift didn’t respond, instead grabbing him by the gorget and hauling him forwards. With a powerful beat of her wings she soared out of the hole, twisting around on pure instinct and batting aside a pouncing mantis midair.

“They were waiting for us! Get up here before I make you!” Realizing this was no time for debate, he flapped up and helped drive them back. After several tense seconds of fighting, Swift poked her head into the hole and stuck her arm out, “Come on, we’re clear!”

First exchanged looks with the triplets; somehow, they each understood how it would be done. Lock was the first to go up, he grabbed Swift’s hand and was hauled up into the open. Then he reached down, took the Princess’s arms with Swift’s help, and heaved her up to safety.

Barrel shouted from the rear, “I think more are coming!” He patted his sister on the shoulder and tossed the torch down the tunnel before being pulled up. First heard Night call for help out of sight, Swift and Barrel took up arms to aid him. Lock reached down and pulled up First.

“Oh, heck. Heck! They’re coming!” Stock screamed desperately. She blindly fired a bolt down the tunnel before fleeing to the exit, “Lock! Get the sticks!”

He and First pulled her up and out, “How many?” he asked.

“ALL OF THEM!!” 

Lock gasped. He rapidly sifted through his rucksack, breathing deeply to fight off panic. Stock helped First pick up the Princess and they took off in a dead sprint. “Any Day Now!” Stock shouted, pleaded. Finally, he pulled out a string of brown sticks attached to a fuse. With a snap of his finger the fuse was lit, he tossed it into the hole before scrambling to catch up.

Barrel was just up ahead in front of a corner. He batted aside one mantis and ran another through as they approached. “Over here! Come on!”

As they fled, half-carrying and half-dragging the Princess as they went, a dull bwoomf went off back the way they came. 

Finally Swift and Night came into view, swerving back-to-back as they fought off the neverending trickle of insects. They were both amazing spearfighters, but they were also both visibly exhausted. The insect’s numbers had worn them down through sheer attrition. 

Swift glanced their direction, did a double take, and shouted, “Lock! On your six!”

Before First could register the warning, she heard Lock shriek in horror, followed by the heavy thud of armor hitting the ground. Lock was pinned, the mantis savagely slashing at his head and torso as he desperately shielded his muzzle.

First slapped Barrel on the shoulder, “Take Her! I’ve got him, go!” She ran back and drew her sword. 

“GET IT OFF ME! GET IT OFF GET IT OFF GETITOFFGETITOFF-” First caught the mantis in an underhand slash, neatly cutting its head in half and flinging the body off Lock’s body. She wildly slashed at several more that approached, then glanced down at Lock.

It was bad; a jagged slash went over his eye, and his breastplate had been torn to shreds. She leaned down- “Come on, get up! Get up! We’re almost out, on your feet!” -and grabbed Lock by the hand and heaved him up. He pointed and screamed,

“BEHIND YOU!”

She twisted in place, blindly slashing the air behind her. She caught a mantis mid-leap, cutting it in half. She recoiled as the chunks of chitin hit her, carried by momentum alone. She lost her balance, stumbled for purchase on the ground.

And the ground fell out from under her. 

Somepony shouted “NO!” as she fell. One second. Two seconds. Three Seconds. Solid ground reintroduced itself with a sickening crack. The wind in her lungs had abandoned her, leaving her gasping shallowly for air as she slid to a halt. 

First heard the sounds of wrestling topside. Night shouted, “Barrel, don’t! There’s no time, we have to go!”

“NO!” he shouted, “We have to save her! She could still be alive!”

“Barrel, we won’t be if we don’t RUN!”

“NO!!” 

A third set of armor joined the melee, “Bare, we’ll come back.” She recognized Stock’s voice. “Barrel, LISTEN TO ME! We Will Come Back For Her. But we need to leave Now or we’ll all be mantis food!”

All First could do was listen. Heavy breathing. A defeated “alright. alright.” Three sets of plate armor sprinting away, Southeast. An oncoming wave of skittering legs, scraping against stone, brick, metal, each other; thundering over her, past the hole, for minutes that felt like hours. 

Then, silence. 





After a long time, long enough that the moonlight shifted to shine on her limp body, First Response began to think. Panic and Logic waged a brutal war in her mind. Panic charged the line with the reality that she was going to die there. Logic counterattacked by demanding that she take full analysis of her injuries before concluding such. Panic ambushed with the knowledge that her family would never understand how she had died. Logic recovered with reassurance that if she could get out of the ruins, the others would eventually come and find her. Panic made a last ditch assault by scoffing that Stock had only said that to get her brother to leave. Logic replied that neither of them knew Stock well enough to say for certain, and given her lack of familiarity with Stock it was practical to assume that she had meant it. And thus, Panic slinked away, giving Logic the victory.

First Response decided that the highest priority was examining the extent of her injuries. Her head was ringing and she felt sick to her stomach: likely a concussion. Dust and debris clogged her throat and tongue, preventing her from taking anything more than shallow breaths. Her ankle was twisted at an awkward angle in her fall. It felt like a sprain rather than a break, but she likely couldn’t put weight on it regardless. She pushed herself to a sit, to see any other damage she couldn’t feel. Except she didn’t. She could move her head up slightly, painfully, but the rest of her body didn’t respond. 
skitterskitterskitter

No, scratch that. She could wiggle the fingers on her left hand. That was something, at least. 

She could also still feel the rest of her body. That was a good sign. She most likely wasn’t permanently paralysed. She could feel her backplate bent inwards between her shoulder blades; that’s where her spine was damaged. She could feel smaller dents in the plate along her arms and legs, taken from the tumble down the slope. Her helmet was gone, likely scattered off into the darkness beyond what her pale patch of moonlight revealed. Shame, that. She had a family photograph in there. Her, her parents, her little brother, at her graduation from the academy. It would have been nice to see them one last-

Logic noticed Panic’s campaign of sabotage and snuffed it out. She could do this. She would see her family again, no matter what.
Skitterskitterskitter

If she could move her fingers, that meant she could move her arm. She just had to work at it, had to will herself to move her arm again. If she could move her arm, she could drag herself out of this pit. If she could drag herself out of this pit, she could drag herself out of this city. If she could drag herself out of this city, she could find the others and get to safety. All she had to do was wiggle her fingers until-

Hhhhhssssssssssss

Oh No. 

First froze. She tentatively glanced towards the sound: to her right, in the dark. She felt herself swallow. Keeping deep, steady breaths, she gently lit her horn.

There had to be at least thirty mantises standing no more than five feet away from her. They were savagely fighting each other, gnawing at each other’s forelegs and torsos. They were so light, she hadn’t heard them over the ringing in her ears. Some of them were on their backs, back legs flailing in the air for purchase. Others were hanging on outcroppings on the ceiling, trying to maneuver for an advantage in their rictus of battle. 

But one mantis, either the odd one left without a sparring partner or the first one to best their opponent, approached the light of her horn slowly. Steadily. Hungrily.

And just like that, Panic burst right back into her mind and bashed Logic’s head open with a frying pan. She started to hyperventilate. Frantically shaking her head, First sent herself into a coughing fit trying to shout. A plea for mercy; a command to stay back; a cry for help. She wasn’t entirely sure herself. Anything to get this monster away from her. Anything to save her life. The mantid tensed, flexed its forelegs to strike-

And then something came.

A guitar was unexpected, to say the least. So unexpected that Panic dropped dead on the spot, leaving Confusion alone as it emerged from its hiding spot in the corner. Confidently and skillfully played, the music ambled in from the top of the pit. It was an odd tune to place: not quite chipper enough to be happy, not quite slow enough to be sad. It sat somewhere in between the two. 

The menacing mantid sharply recoiled at the first pluck of the string. It spread out its wings and forelegs threateningly, hissing violently at the intruding musician. The other mantises behind it reacted similarly. Those that could stand either threw up their own defensive postures or took off in a dead run. 

The music took a sharp drop down to the top of the slope First had tumbled down. The musician made no sound as they landed. Content. That’s what the music was. Content: Satisfied with life and living. Like taking a stroll in the park in Spring, or sitting in a pavilion sipping tea as the bustle of life passed around you.

Those mantises that had stayed to posture defensively flinched back at its descent, and pivoted to flee like their lives depended on it. Even the losing mantid duelists, half-dead as they were, tried their best to shamble away on their functioning legs. The musician descended the slope, still making no footfalls as they went, until they finally stopped at First’s side. She felt a nagging urge to be concerned, but the music put her at ease in a way she hadn’t been in months. Since her family was last together, at her favorite ice cream parlor to celebrate her acceptance into the Medical Corps. 

What little remained of Logic muttered that she was likely delirious from the concussion. 

With a gentle flourish of notes, the song ended, awakening her from a trance she didn’t realize she was in. First turned her head to look at her savior, wincing from the pain that shot up her neck into her skull. 

It was fitting, First mused dazedly, that such a strange rescue would be carried out by an even stranger rescuer. They were tall: she couldn’t tell exactly how tall from her spot on the ground, but they were definitely taller than most ponies. They wore a worn vest that draped down to their feet, which were wrapped in tall black boots with black metal tips and laces halfway up their shins. Under the long, brown, sand-beaten vest, they wore a short, thick, and black vest over a blue button-up shirt rolled up to their elbows and a black pair of cargo pants. Their hands and forearms were wrapped in black fingerless gloves and alien, asymmetrical vambraces respectively, and what little skin she could see from between them was completely hairless, and nearly sheet-white. 

First tried to speak, but a pathetic whine was all that came out. Her savior knelt down and set their guitar down beside them. Now she could see their face clearly; they wore a brown, wide-brimmed hat over a sandy blonde mane, and reflective aviator goggles over an angular grey respirator. “Shhh, shhh shhh shhh, it’s alright,” he- definitely a ‘he’ with that voice- soothed, “Don’t stress yourself. You’re messed up enough as it is.”

He looked up and around the cave calmly, “Alright, it looks like we’ve got some time before they get curious again. Can you stand?” First tenderly shook her head. “Alright, that’s no problem.” He reached into the folds of his long vest, and rummaged around for a moment before pulling out a syrette filled with a clear fluid. “This’ll get you on your feet. Hold still.”

First Response barked a laugh, which came out as more of a violent hack. Not like I have a choice, is it? The savior lifted up her gorget and gently brushed aside the fur on her neck. First felt a gentle prick, and then a lingering soreness as the needle withdrew.

Her savior (she had to ask for his name once she could speak again) tossed the used syrette into a small bag and tucked it into his vest. “Alright,” he said, “I’m not gonna lie to you: You being an alien species of indeterminate metabolism and body mass and all, I had to sort of eyeball the dosage on this stuff. You might experience some minor side effects when you wake up.”

‘Side effects’? ‘Wake up’? Wait, what the hay did he just give-
> Chapter 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Moon was gone.

Swift Wind stood atop a boulder and stared up. Her breath came in short, shaky bursts. Ever since that day six months ago, the day Luna had found her in that motel, the day She saved her life, Swift Wind went out every night to look at the Moon and stars. It was a constant reminder that at least one pony loved her. That at least one pony understood.

And now it was gone.

Even the stars didn’t have the courtesy to look right. The night sky was supposed to be beautiful. Supposed to be a pointillistic mosaic of light, made with care and intent. Supposed to be a congregation of carefully crafted constellations, coming together to create a captivating chronology of Equestria. Legend and history together, spinning the story of a nation in the sky. 

Instead randomly scattered blotches of light poked out from the veil without thought or consideration. None of the familiar-

Her knuckles turned white as she gripped her spear. She could not distract herself like this. That was the whole reason she had come up here in the first place, under the pretense of ‘taking watch’. Luna’s tapestry would have carried her away from this world. Away from the burning aches in her legs and wings. Away from the itch of sand in every single crevice of her body.

Away from the constant horror gnawing at the back of her skull. Away from old memories of splinted wood and scattered viscera. Away from new memories of monsters crawling from the shadows to tear her and Luna limb from limb. Chittering, skittering, slashing leaping rippingtearinggnawing-

“-Oi, Windbag! You listen’n to me?”

“WHAT??” Swift snarled reflexively. She regretted lashing out for a moment. She realized who had intruded, and then didn’t regret it anymore.

“Jeez, filly,” Stock-and-Key muttered, “Who put buttercup in your tea this morning?”

“If you’ll recall,” Swift dripped with ice and venom, “we didn’t serve tea this morning. We were busy running for our lives from a swarm of giant bug monsters. I don’t blame you for forgetting, though. All the smog down in Baltimare tends to give ponies memory issues.”

Stock scowled, “Well at least the air in Baltimare’s cleaner than your service record.”

“What was that?!”

“Oh, nothing,” Stock waved the air as if shooing a fly, dripping with sarcasm and venom, “I’m sure your little astrology session is more important than anything I have to say. After all, I’m just a low-down little harbor filly and you’re this Big Shot Cloudsdale Warrior, come from generations of-”

“You came up here for a reason,” she spat more venom, “Spit it out already. I don’t have time to listen to you prattle.”

Stock sighed, “Just the picture of love and tolerance, isn’t she? Alright, fine. The princess is awake, and she wanted-”

“What!?” she cut Stock off, “How long has she been awake?” 

Stock blinked, “Um, like, ten minutes. She told me to come get you so we-”

Swift didn’t listen to the rest. She didn’t care. Luna was finally awake, that was all that mattered. She roughly brushed past Stock, glided off the rock and next to the campfire.

The boulder was about three miles South of the ruins. The custodians were huddled around a timid campfire. It cast playful, fluttering shadows against the rock. They had fled for two miles, until the monsters decided that their dinner was more trouble than it was worth. The cold forced them to find shelter early, else they would have endured until they reached the motel.

Lock had a patch of gauze tied over his eye, and was working with his brother to patch the tears in his chainmail haubergeon (his cuirass had been discarded as soon as the mantids stopped persuing; damaged beyond repair). Night Sentinel chewed a dried apricot as he sanded the shaft of his spear. And Luna-

Luna. 

Swift’s heart turned to lead when she saw Her. Her coat was matted with sweat and dirt, ruffled askew by Her awkward slouch. She looked like a cheap parody of Herself- like a Nightmare Night costume who’s wearer had imbued one too many hard ciders. Her other coat, also soiled with sweat and dirt, was bunched up behind Her head as She reclined limply against the side of the rock. 

“Luna!” Swift yelped. Her spear was discarded as she glided to Her side. She smelled like ginger and willow. “Lu- I- Your Highness, are you alright?”

Luna met her eyes with a tired heartbreaking grimace, “I am alive, Warrant Officer, and that is near enough to ‘alright’ for me,” she said. Her voice was edged, almost sharp. It was so unlike the gentle and patient mare Swift had come to know.

“But, Luna- Princess, you’ve been unconscious for hours. You need to-” Luna silenced her with a sharply raised hand. Swift swallowed her tongue and moved back, cowed and embarrassed. 

“I overexerted myself. I will require several days rest before I am fully magically functional, but I will be fine. I shall hear no more of it.”

Swift stood up and ambled away, unsure of what to do with herself. She heard Stock thud to the ground behind her and walk to her sibling’s side. Everypony was silent for a long time. 

“...So!” the youngest of the trio, Barrel, chirped, “Giant praying mantises, huh? That’s gotta be a-” ‘a first’, is what he didn’t say. What he choked on. What he quietly, desperately, tried to pass off as clearing his throat. “Ahem- ah- A, uh, a new one. Am I right?” The awkward miasma did not recede. If anything, Barrel’s juvenile, nigh-parodic attempt at an icebreaker had intensified it.  

After too long, Luna finally spoke, “...The loss of Lieutenant Response is… devastating. But, we cannot spare the time to mourn properly. We must make haste for the lodge so we may plan our next moves.” Luna heaved herself indelicately to her feet. First instinctively moved to support her, and Luna sharply waved her off. “Master Sergeant,” She addressed Night Sentinel with regal authority as she pulled Her trench coat over Her sweater, “You know the route, yes?”

He nodded and said it was close; nearly an hour’s march away. Claimed there wouldn't be any trouble along the way.

“Pray you are right, Sentinel,” She muttered solemnly, “for all our sakes. Now break camp, with haste! We depart in five minutes.” Luna strode away with unquestionable finality. She extinguished the campfire with an offhand gesture as she passed.

The other custodians leapt into action, though it was more of a half-hearted hop than a leap. Spirits were still low and little enthusiasm could be mustered. Swift had neglected to unpack her things when they initially made camp, so she trotted anxiously after the Princess.

She was standing at the side of the wide, black-paved road, solemnly staring up at the night sky. Swift silently nestled in beside Her and clutched her hands together like a scolded schoolfilly. After a silence, Luna said, “I take it you noticed them too, yes?”

The stars. “I did.”

“I felt it the moment we awoke in this place,” she said, “I thought my senses had been frazzled by the portal, but now I know I am sensing them clearly. In Equestria, every star in the sky is a piece on a Draughts board. I can feel them all at once; their pull, their light, their power; all in perfect clarity. I can touch them, move them, arrange them as I please.

“But these stars are distant. So… so distant. Even the largest and closest of them are but a flicker in the night sky—Like birthday candles in the Abyss. It doesn’t feel right.”

“It’s a constant reminder that we’re stuck here,” Swift said, “A reminder of how far we are from home.” 

“Yes.” Gentle, but final. The silence that settled between them was… not pleasant, but it wasn’t uncomfortable either. It lingered, content, until Luna spoke again, “I feel I should apologize for rejecting your ministrations. I was not myself. I still am not. Please, do not think my aches and grouses reflect my true feelings towards you.”

Aches? “Your Highness, are you in pain?”

Luna sighed a sigh of gentle amusement, “Merely a headache,” she said, “It happens to unicorns when we overuse our magic. Sergeant Sentinel gave me a scruple of herbs to alleviate the ache; I believe it will subside before dawn.  

“Now come. Your fellow guards have nearly completed their preparations for the trek. We shan't dally if we wish to reach the lodge by dawn.”

Swift stayed behind for a moment to cast one final scowl at the stars. They still hung there, taunting her with their disobedience from their untouchable perches in space. She was only annoyed with them when they were just tormenting her with their existence. But now they were hurting Luna. The only pony to ever truly love her. 

This was when she knew that she hated them. 







It took them about an hour to reach the motel.

An hour of trudging down the long, seemingly endless road; counting the slow twirls of their shadows as they were pulled and twisted about by the powerful road lights; pulling scarves and scraps of cloth over their muzzles whenever a gust of wind kicked up a cloud of sand; jumping to fight at the slightest movement or noise from the darkness beyond the light of the road.

After about an hour, Swift saw a bright red billboard in the distance, just off the side of the road. It was lit even brighter than the road itself, and read, in bright white letters:


HOSTEL: 200 FEET



“Looks like the natives speak ponish.” Night Sentinel observed, “Imagine that.” 

True to word, the hostel was just visible in the distance, behind a small sand dune just off the road. As they passed the dune, it turned out to be piled over an ancient, rusted chain link fence. The gate bore a worn sign marked:


NO ENTRY


A narrow service road ran through the dune. It led nowhere. Just before they passed it, Luna pulled everypony aside and reminded them of their expected conduct: 

Allow the Princess to speak for all of them.  
Do not show any outward reaction to anything they see or hear. 
Remember that they have no understanding of the native culture or customs; what may be ghastly to us could be cause for ceremony to them.

Swift saw the logic in these. They couldn’t risk offending anycreature in this wretched place, especially whoever, or whatever, managed the motel. The custodians acknowledged Her words—agreed with them. Luna nodded, satisfied. “Alright, let us meet our new hosts.”

They did not meet their new hosts.

The hostel was situated a good distance away from the road, separated by a roundabout that circled around a barbed-wire enclosure and a tall stone fountain. It was a simple, modest water feature: a spout gently sprayed water up and out of the center pillar into a wide basin. It also had a small drinking basin at shoulder-height, where water flowed in and out through two meshed valves. A sign hung under the drinking basin:


Please feel free to take as much water as you like. 


Visitors will be held responsible for any damages dealt to the fountain.


A haunting melody floated out of thin air. No music player was in sight, and the source seemed to dance about the yard like a wisp. The song itself was, paradoxically, soothing in a very unsettling sort of way; like the distant call of a siren. First saw Night Sentinel’s ears perk and twitch as he listened. “Wow. That’s uncanny.”

“What do you mean?” Luna asked.

“The tune,” he answered, as if it was obvious, “ ‘The Mare from Iponyma’. In the original D-flat major, too. I don’t recognize the language thou-” The gentle stallion singing in a foreign tongue was abruptly replaced by a soft-voiced mare singing in ponish. “Oh! Never mind, then. That’s odd.”

First felt her temper flare again at his flippancy towards the Princess. Who did he think he was, acting like Luna was some old friend or random pony? The only reason she hadn’t given him a thorough tongue-lashing (and maybe a real lashing for good measure) was that Luna herself didn’t seem to mind his disrespect. She couldn’t fathom why, but held her tongue all the same.

Barrel felt the side of the walls and pondered out loud, “What is this stuff? Clay?”

“Adobe,” Luna answered, “A mixture of clay, sand, and organic refuse. The Northern Abyssinian tribes use them to build their villages. Or, at least, they did last I visited them.” 

The roundabout forked into a wide stone pathway, flanked by a paddle cactus on each side. Two adobe steps led to a tall doorway with two signs next to it. Night read them out loud:


“‘Hello, and welcome to the Salt Lake City NUC Long 15 hostel! Please feel free to stay for as long as you like and use as much as you need. We hope you enjoy your stay.’”


Swift turned the words over in her head for a moment before it clicked. “... Salt Lake City?” Everypony groaned. Stock-and-Key tossed her face into her palm.

“Well,” Luna said, “I think we can conclusively say we are in an alternate dimension of some kind.”

“Y’know, in hindsight,” Night muttered, “that lake did look awfully familiar. The coastline’s different near the city, otherwise I would’ve recognized it sooner.”

Stock wiped her hand off her face. “This place is a nightmare. No, scratch that, it’s a fever dream. At least nightmares have the courtesy of making some sense.” She glanced at Luna, “No offence, your highness.”

Luna barked a dry chuckle, “None taken. What does the rest of it say, Sergeant?”

“Oh, right,” He leaned in to read, 

“‘Please keep all livestock within the provided pen. Solicitation, assass’- Wait.” He stopped. Wiped his eyes and stepped aside to give the sign better light. “‘Solicitation, assassination, and torture will not be tolerated on Hostel property.’???”

“... That’s disturbingly specific,” Lock muttered.

“Your Highness,” Swift said, “Are you sure we should stay here? That level of specificity has to have a story behind it, and I really don’t wish to find out what it is.”

Luna looked North. Desert to the horizon. She looked South.  Desert to the horizon. She silently fixed Swift with a pointed look.

“...Alright, point taken. I still think this isn’t a good idea.”

“You are correct; it is not a good idea. But it is also our only option.”

“...Sooo,” Barrel drawled, “Do we knock or something?”

“Door’s open,” Night opened the door nonchalantly and peered inside. “Nopony in here–but Wow, you guys ought to take a look at this place.”

Luna followed closely behind Night into the building. Barrel-and-Key shrugged before falling in behind them. His siblings filed in at his heels. Swift took one last look behind her, scanning the landscape for anything suspicious. She saw nothing.

Well, it’s not as if we have anything to lose, is it?

Swift closed the door behind her as she entered, but she couldn’t shake the lingering feeling that they were being watched. 

The walls, floor, and ceiling were all adobe just like outside, but polished, sanded, and sanitized to feel smooth as stone. The eerie music was pumped in from outside. The source was still evasive. The beds, all eight of which were longer than Luna was tall, were immaculately made. Thin cotton sheets were pressed and wrapped flat around the mattress, like a coat of paint. The blankets were folded and placed literally in the exact center of each bed. 

The room was kept at an imperceptibly perfect temperature by a small climate control device embedded in the wall. The small oven, sink, and countertop on the same wall were spotless and all worked perfectly. A menu was laminated and screwed into the countertop. It read:


ORDER ANYTHING!


If you desire any specific food or drink,


please write it down here. 



We will do our best to provide whatever you request.



Regular meal services will be held at 6:AM, 11:AM, and 4:PM


A trash can and laundry hamper sat in the corner. Each bore a sign promising that no action need be taken by the guests to ensure their proper function. A narrow bookshelf that reached just higher than Luna’s horn (She knew this because Luna happened to be perusing the titles when she looked) bore a sign that promised the books would be sorted no matter what order the guests placed them in, and cautioned a vague retribution should any books go damaged or missing. 

At face value, it was the picture of modest comfort. A perfect blend of luxury and humility. But several minor, disconcerting details stuck out to Swift. Details like how the inside of the building was significantly smaller than the outside; like how the Southwestern corner of the room was conspicuously devoid of furnishings, aside from an inoffensive landscape painting on the wall; like how, despite the constant promises to wait on guests hand and foot, the only signs of life anywhere were the cacti sitting outside; like how all the furniture was just too tall for anypony to use comfortably (except perhaps Luna, but even She would have to stretch).

The dissonance sent bolts of anxiety through her mind. A million worst-case scenarios zipped through her head in murky soup of terror. A honey-trap used to capture slaves. A carnivorous spirit that lived inside the walls. A coven of morally-alien creatures who would steal their souls if they accepted the hospitality. 

Swift nearly tripped over a chair when she saw Barrel, gingerly poking one of the beds with the tip of his spear. “What in Equestria are you doing??” she asked, mystified.

“Mimics,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“Bare, for Sister’s sake,” Stock groaned and shoved Barrel off balance, “Mimics aren’t real! How many times do we have to go over this?”

“You all saw Miss Bunsen’s desk get up and jump out the window! Don’t pretend you didn’t!”

“Bare, it didn’t ‘jump out’, it was a come-to-life spell her TA cast! As a Nightmare Night prank!”

“Oh yeah, sure, that’s what they want you to believe!”

“YES! They want you to believe it because It’s The Truth!”

As the two devolved into an increasingly vitriolic shouting match, Lock meandered over to Swift and Night. “Yeah, they’re gonna be at this for a while. Best to wait for it to burn out.” 

Night cleared his throat and excused himself, said he would take a look around outside. He trotted out of the building a little too quickly to look casual and stumbled into the sky, cursing in an unfamiliar tongue every time his wings lost the air. Lock went over to his siblings (who had somehow gotten into the topic of whether or not a draft horse counted as a pony) to try and get them to fight more quietly. Swift decided it best to go see what Luna was doing.

As she ambled over, Luna addressed her without looking, “Tell me, Swift, where is the best place to look if you wish to learn about an alien culture?”

“Uh-um…” thrown for a loop, Swift struggled to respond, “The ponies in it?”

Luna tutted, “Nay, not the populace. The divide in beliefs, opinions, and experiences between two different individuals, even two living in the same social sphere, is more vast than the divide between realities. No, I believe the best place to go is their literature.”

“Literature, your Highness? I don’t follow.”

“A culture’s literature can tell you the most fundamental values and beliefs held by a culture and its people. For instance,” She gestured to the bookshelf, “These shelves are divided between fiction and non-fiction. this means they appreciate the value of storytelling and fictional tales. Furthermore, the fact that there are books here at all, in a remote rest stop in the desert, tells us that they believe that knowledge and fiction is a fundamental right to all peoples, which should be given freely and without restriction.”

Swift couldn’t help but frown. “I think you may be stretching just a bit, your Majesty.”

“Oh, it is by no means a completely accurate determination; It might just be that they have the means and resources to deliver and maintain books out here at miniscule cost. But I find it is almost always accurate to some degree. You must always consider not just the empirical information you receive, but the implicit context that comes hidden beneath it.

“Now then, you have a look. See what you can determine from the individual books.” Luna flinched as she instinctively tried to grab a chair with magic; Gingerly massaged her scalp around her horn. She settled for dragging it the rest of the way to the bookshelf. She sat down and took a drink from a waterskin, then fixed Swift with a light, encouraging smile. 

Swift felt a bit miffed about being put on the spot like this. But it was Luna: she couldn’t even consider refusing. “Alright,” She knelt down to the non-fiction shelves and perused the titles. She picked out a few titles at random and decided to begin with a small, thin book wrapped in green posterboard. “First Aid: fourth edition. Published by the American National Red Cross.”

“So,” Luna lead, “What can we divine from this book?”

Swift searched for a satisfactory answer, and could only settle on “Theeeey… understand medicine?” Luna nodded, but motioned for her to continue. Swift thought some more about what Luna had said: Find the hidden implications. “... They value medicine enough to write it down?”

“Good, good. What else?”

Swift glanced at the paperback in her hands before nervously asking, “... can I open the book?”

Luna laughed heartily and shielded her muzzle with her hand. “You- hehehe! Y-yes, Swift. You may open the book.”

Swift’s face went red. Luna did not mean to mock or belittle her, but it still felt like she was back in the military camps her parents sent her to in the summer. She dragged her focus back on the book before the memories of home could take grip. Opening to the table of contents, it turned out to be uncannily similar to the manuals she received at Basic about combat medicine: patching basic injuries, recognizing shock, inducing artificial respiration, treating exposure to extreme temperatures, and so on. She looked back up to Luna, “It seems like their concept of ‘first aid’ is fairly similar to ours.” Ears perked as she had a minor epiphany. “Therefore, it’s likely that their notions of advanced medicine are similar to ours as well!.”

Luna smiled widely, “Very good, Swift. Anything else you can gleam from the opening pages? I have the feeling we will have plenty of time to read these books in full later.”

Swift skimmed the rest of the pages. “... no, it doesn’t seem like there’s anything- wait.” Swift’s attention was caught by a separate paragraph in the preface. She read it aloud:

“In the event of a nuclear attack on this country, survival may very well depend on what everyone does for himself, one’s family or neighbor during the first critical hours of such an attack.”

The sentence lingered in both their minds for a time. Luna eventually spoke first, “... Well, at least we can say for certain that they understand the value of friendship and community.” It was clearly an attempt to distract Swift from the darker implications. It didn’t work.

“Luna… what does it mean by ‘nuclear attack’?”

She sighed, “I do not know. But if the authors felt the need to mention it specifically, I fear it may be some sort of catastrophe. One of … singular calibre.”

Swift felt a lump of coal settle in her throat. ‘A catastrophe of singular calibre.’ Perhaps that’s what created the ruins, destroyed ‘Salt Lake City’. Her imagination weakly tried to sweep her up in a whirlwind of possibilities. But for all the horrible ‘what-ifs’ she could conjure, she had a sinking feeling that anything she imagined would pale in comparison to the reality.

Silence again settled on the pair, diluted only by the subtle, spine-chilling music, and vicious whispering from across the room.

Wait, whispering? What happened to-

Her question was answered prematurely as Lock pulled up a chair and collapsed into it with an exaggerated sigh. Glancing behind him, she saw his siblings still waist-deep in their argument, only now slinging their vitriol through whispers and hisses. Hilariously, they were still as physically animated as before, waving their arms about and occasionally grappling with each other. Swift couldn’t help but snicker behind her fist.

Lock chuckled, “Yeah they’re really something, aren’t they? It usually takes about five minutes of this before they realise how ridiculous they look and forget what they’re angry about.”

Luna, who could barely contain her own laughter, asked, “How are they able to do that seriously? Surely they must realize how silly they are?”

“Practice,” he answered, “I remember when we were foals, they were once able to sustain it for two hours. During a school play. While delivering their lines on queue.”

Swift blinked in awe, “Sweet Maker.”

“Yeah. To them, it’s almost a game; to see how long they can maintain the fight organically. It’s cathartic for them. Especially Stock.”

Swift cocked an eyebrow, “How so?”

Lock suddenly looked very uncomfortable. “Well… we had something of a family emergency a few years ago. We all took it pretty hard, but Stock probably took it the hardest. Their fights help her work through stress, and it helps Barrel process his… darker impulses.”

It was an impressive dodge, she had to admit. She was tempted to press for more, but she would be a hypocrite if she pushed other ponies to talk about their painful histories. It was best to move on. 

She cleared her throat and asked, “So, um… how’s your eye?”

Lock absently rubbed at the line of rope tied around his scalp. “Could be worse. The pain is going down, but we should probably get it looked at before infection sets in.”

Luna chimed in, “You seem awfully calm about this, Specialist.”

Lock shrugged, “It is what it is. I’ve still got the one eye left; that’s more than some ponies can claim.”

Swift and Luna exchanged looks. Even Swift could see that First’s death was affecting him more than he let on. But Luna subtly shook her head, ‘Let it go’, so she let it go

“Besides,” he continued, “I’m more worried about this motel.”

“Why is that?” Luna asked.

“I mean, it just doesn’t add up. I can understand why a hostel this far remote wouldn’t have regular staff, but why would it promise to provide service if there’s nopony around to provide it? I can’t sense anything that would indicate magical servants,” he asked Luna, “Can you?”

“Nay. Nor do I detect any signs of curses or hidden magical creatures. Besides, setting up automatic magical servants for a highway lodge, especially a lodge in the middle of nowhere, would be prohibitively impractical even in Equestria. And in a world with as unstable a thaumaturgic field as this one, it would be nigh-impossible.”

Lock did not look reassured, “Yeah, I get the logic behind that. I just can’t shake the feeling that something’s gonna jump out at us when we least expect-”

KA-THUNK.

“AIEEE!”

They scrambled to their feet. Luna nearly lost her balance as she stood before catching herself on the shelf. On the other side of the hostel, Barrel had jumped (literally jumped) into his sister’s arms. They were both staring at the Southeast corner of the room.

A section of the wall had retracted, revealing a small metal chamber hidden underneath a thin shell of faux-adobe. The interior lit up, and a-

Wait a minute, what is that?

It was a hodgepodge of metal bars and hinges, forming several bizarre pseudo-limbs which protruded out of a thick, chrome sphere that hovered inches off the ground. It inched forward, out of the hidden cubby, and unfolded into an alien machine. Three eye stalks faced outward around its body, taking in the entire room at once. Three arms(?) extended below it and curved upward, capped with unrecognizable devices and manipulators. 

Everypony flinched as it rose up off the ground, eye stalks resting at just below Luna’s eye level. Nopony moved as it slowly floated to the door. Swift didn't even hear them breathe. It stopped at a small trail of sand that had pooled from the ponies’ boots. It stared at the refuse, shifted its arms clockwise before settling on a narrow nozzle. 

The custodians all winced. Luna cautiously lit her horn, ignoring the pain that must have shot through her scalp. Swift was fairly certain she heard Barrel whimper. 

The thing paid them no notice. Instead it turned on its vacuum cleaner and began cleaning the floor. 

...

“...I’m sorry, what?” Stock choked.

The ponies waited for the other boot to drop. The thing quickly finished vacuuming around the entrance, and moved about the room gathering more sand from the corners and crevices. It worked fast, and after scant moments switched arms again and began fussing over the mussed bedsheets.

“Well.” Lock gulped, “...Mystery solved?” he chuckled nervously.

“Hey, sis?” Barrel chirped, “I know you’re a big, strong filly and all, but could you put me down? My back is starting to hurt.” Stock unceremoniously dropped him to the floor with a thud. “...Ow.” he squeaked.

“Your highness,” Swift asked, still keeping her voice down and movements steady, “Didn’t you say that setting up magical servants out here would be too difficult to be worth the effort?”

Luna had not relaxed like the others had. “Yes, I did. And it is true.”

Swift blinked. “Then, how…?” she trailed off, pointing to the metal orb which had taken to dusting off the shelves.

“I have no idea how, but that thing,” she pointed; her arms were shaking, “is not magical.”

Before she could ask Her to elaborate, the door burst open and a haggard, wheezing Night Sentinel stumbled into the shelter. “Hey everypony- huff- I- huff- Sistersthisplacesucks -huff- I swept the whole outside and -huff- took a look around from the roof. -huff- Nothing else but sand dunes and where did that golem come from?”

The 'golem' (Swift had never heard the term before, but it was a better label than 'thing') twisted in place to fix an eyestalk on Night. His ears folded back as it leered down at him, and he stuttered, “Um… hi?”

“Language Recognized: North American English.”

“What.”

It’s eyestalks suddenly unfroze and swiveled independently to face each cluster of ponies. “Hello. Sirs and Madams! How are you Enjoying our Facilities!”

“...”

“...”

“... what’s a golem?” Barrel asked from the floor.

The golem(?) took a moment to respond, “Golem: Translation Of Hebrew ‘גולם’. An Anthropomorphic Autonomous Entity, Fashioned From Inanimate Material And Animated Through Supernatural Mechanisms.” 

Swift cocked her head curiously at the golem’s strange speech patterns. It felt artificial. Manufactured, as if somepony had taken a recording of somepony reading a dictionary aloud, chopped it into individual words, and strung them together in a sentence. 

Luna took the initiative and stepped forward, “Greetings. I am Crown Princess Luna Tenebrōsa, Heir Apparent to the throne of Equestria.” She gestured to the other ponies, “These are my Noctis Custodes, my personal praetorian guard. Please, forgive us our impudence for entering unannounced.” Luna bowed her head deeply. Swift immediately followed suit; the others fell into line after a moment’s hesitation. 

The golem took a moment to respond, “Hello. Luna. And Others! Do not Concern yourself with such Trivialities as. Making Reservations. Our Facilities are open to All Guests at All Hours of the Day!”

There it is again, Swift thought. She couldn’t even get angry about it failing to address Luna by her Royal Title. She suspected it was physically incapable.

Nevertheless, Luna continued without comment, “We have been cast astray from our home and set upon by monsters, and we require rest and shelter. We will be indebted to you if you would grant us quarter for our recovery.” 

The golem took a moment to respond, “Do not Concern yourself with such Trivialities as. Payment. Our Facilities are open to All Guests at All Hours of the Day!”

This was getting beyond creepy. Swift exchanged quick looks with the other custodians; they all were similarly perturbed. If Luna felt the same way, she did an impeccable job of concealing it.

“Thank you, sir, for granting us shelter.” She bowed even deeper, but this time the custodians didn’t follow suit. “Forgive me this trespass, but what is your name? I am of the understanding that you forwent to introduce yourself.”

The golem took a moment to respond, “I do Not have a Name. I am Merely the Housekeeper. How are you Enjoying our Facilities!”

Luna began to show the first signs of discomfort. This was clearly not how She imagined this conversation to go. “Well- it is- ah…they-they are wonderful facilities,” She declared, trying to bring back the pomp and ceremony she began with, “I have never enjoyed lodgings as quaint and comfortable in all my centuries of life! Truly, your lodge is without peer or equal.”

The Housekeeper took a moment to respond, “This Facility is one of twenty-nine Facilities located across Major Highways throughout the Nevada-Utah Confederacy.”

This time Luna was visibly thrown. “Oh! Oh. I- ah, um… I see?” 

The Housekeeper took a moment to respond, “Breakfast will be Served in. One Hour. Two Minutes. And Thirty Six Seconds. If you Desire a specific Dish or Food item, Please write it On the Provided menu. If any Of you Cannot read, I will happily Dictate for you. Enjoy Your St-” It froze mid-sentence. Its arms fell limp and hung to the ground. It hovered in place, but made no movements or reactions.

“Um,” Lock stammered, “What just happened?”

“Remote Access Code Accepted. Decrypting Message.”

“Rrrremote access code?” Barrel drew out, “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”

She saw Night slowly inch his way to the wall where their spears were propped up. Swift found herself unconsciously moving to shield Luna with her body. Before anypony could take action, the Housekeeper sprung back to life. 

“Congratulations! You Have been Granted Level One Clearance Throughout the Hostel!”

Swift blinked, “Granted what now?”

“With these permissions, you now have Access to our Extended Facilities! Please Descend the Staircase to Enjoy your New accomodations!”

“Wait a minute, what stairca-YIPE!!” Stock yelped as she instinctively jumped forward, tripping over her brother and slamming onto a bed, snapping the frame in two. The floor had unfolded under her feet, revealing aforementioned staircase. It was harsh and angular. Made out of metal, as were the walls underneath the hidden entrance.

“I will replace That. Please Enjoy your New accommodations below.”

Stock moaned in pain as the Housekeeper began absently picking up the shards of wood scattered around her body. Swift turned to the Princess, “Your highness, what do we do now?”

“I vote to leave the room with the creepy null-magic golem.” Night announced, already shoveling their weapons and gear into his arms.

“Seconded!” Barrel shouted from the floor.

Finally, something inside of Swift snapped. “ALRIGHT, I have HAD it with you and your Horseapples!” she jabbed a finger at Night, “This is not a republic! She is your Princess, and you will show her the respect she-!”

“ENOUGH.” Luna bellowed. Everypony winced; the Royal Canterlot Voice was not pleasant to experience at point-blank range. “We will descend and see what awaits us below. Gather your things.” Without another word, she strode down the stairs, leaving the custodians to awkwardly gather their equipment and follow her. 

Night Sentinel awkwardly offered her her satchel as he passed. She took it without acknowledging him. Mortified didn’t approach how she felt right then. To be silenced directly by the Princess was horrid, but to be silenced by Her while she was defending Her from that impudent jerk made her want to fall into the Abyss. 

She didn’t meet anypony else’s eyes as she trudged downstairs. As the floor closed behind her, she heard the Housekeeper call out; “We hope You enjoy The rest of your Stay at the Salt Lake City Long 15 hostel. Have a Good day!”

And then the floor shut with a dull clang, sealing the uncanny automaton out of sight, but not out of mind. 

The subterranean corridor was a stark clash from the cozy, desert-decor of the ground-level shelter. Monotony was the central theme here. Metal walls, metal ceiling, metal floors; the only non-metallic surface to be seen were the glass floodlights dotting the walls and the rubber, perforated mat that marked the walkway. It was an impassive, clinical feeling, like standing in an alien spacecraft. Or a morgue. Celestia knew Swift had been in too many of those.

The ceiling was just a little bit too high. So were the handrails. It was becoming too obvious to ignore: the native creatures here were much taller than the average pony.

The others were talking at the bottom of the staircase. Swift trotted down to listen.

“Why would somepony bother to make their underground lair out of iron when stone would work just as well?” Night Sentinel asked.

“It’s steel, actually,” Lock-and-Key caressed the wall, his horn gently lighting up as his hand slid across the material. “Steel’s easier to manufacture and shape than wrought iron. There's some other metals I don't recognize too."

Luna was silent. She regarded the hallway with the same impassive eye that it gave her. "This place is designed to unsettle. I recognize the signs of manufactured terror, and this place was conceived by a master of harnessing the insidious fear that lurks within the imaginations of ponies. 

"Do not let this place sink its hooks into your mind. It will nurture your unease into panic and paranoia if allowed."

Night was visibly skeptical. He held his tongue, but Swift could tell he thought the Princess was being paranoid. She held her tongue as well.

“Hey guys!” Stock-and-Key shouted from down the hall, “Come take a look at this!” She was standing on her tip-toes, peeking through the window on a tall steel door. “Anypony got a light? I can’t see squat in there.”

Swift read the sign at the door:


Employee Use Only


“I’m not sure we should be messing around this,” she cautioned, “We really don’t want to get into trouble with whatever runs this-”

Night leapfrogged up onto Stock’s shoulders without warning. She squawked, “GYAA! WHA-What the Hay are you doing??”

“Hold still,” he said, nonchalantly peering through the window, “You’re blocking the light.”

“Get Off Me, you little rodent!” She reeled back, and Night gracefully dismounted her and fluttered to his feet. Stock fell flat on her rump with a clatter of metal on metal.

“Storage room.” he explained, “Bunch’a chests, lockers, and somesuch. Might hold something valuable inside if it's cordoned off like that.”

“Or something dangerous,” Lock added.

After a brief pause for Barrel to convince his sister not to throttle the insufferable thestral, they kept marching. They arrived at a shallow staircase, followed by tall, steel double doors at the far end of the hall. Tinted windows hid the chamber beyond. 

Luna took a deep breath. Released it. She grabbed the handles, twisted them and threw them open. 

And for the third time that night, all six of them were stunned silent.

If the ground level lodgings were the image of modest comfort, then the level one facilities were downright opulent. The door opened into a small foyer, with potted ferns flanking a wall-mounted floor map. Light hardwood coated the floor, under a bright red carpet that snaked out from under three doors on each wall.

The new music was soothing without being unsettling. She was reminded of the smoking room her father sometimes took her to in the Cloudsdale Veterans Club, where he would share war stories with other grizzled guardsponies inWe can talk more after y’all’ve had a good sleep.between cigars and shots of espresso. 

Speaking of which, to their immediate right was a table short enough for the custodians to comfortably use. It hosted a coffee machine, full and hot, and a stack of pamphlets. Swift took one as she dumbly walked into the foyer.

“We, uh…” Luna muttered, “... I must confess, this is not what I anticipated.”

Everypony ambled in the foyer for about five minutes, neither of them quite brave enough to chance any of the three doors leading further inside. Swift Wind scanned the pamphlet for useful information, and found little of any immediate use. Barrel-and-Key poured himself a cup of coffee, ignoring Swift’s cautions to be wary of harmful substances within. He drank it black, to her surprise. He hadn’t seemed the type.

Lock was giving the pamphlet a less practical read-through. In sharp contrast with his normally subdued demeanor, he got very excited as he read aloud that the hostel hosted a movie theater. A rather large one, from the map, with regular screenings of ‘old world movies and holotapes’. Stock was examining the woodwork on the table and floors. She seemed to be impressed.

Princess Luna was rooted to Her position in the hallway. She stared out into the distance, focusing on nothing. Swift thought She might have been meditating, or at least was lost in thought, so she didn’t disturb Her.

Night Sentinel was peeking through the doors, looking around at the rooms within. As he hung on the rightmost door, peering through the window, he shouted, “Heads up, ponies! Another golem’s comin’ this way.”

This broke Luna out of her stupor. She strode to the door as Night dismounted, and opened it to another golem. It was identical to the one above.

“Hello. Sirs and Madams! Welcome to The Level One suites and Facilities! I Am The Bellhop. Please allow me To escort you to Your Quarters. You are of course Free to roam the Grounds to the extent Of your Clearance.”

It turned around (Could it turn around? It had eyes facing every direction.) and floated back the way it came. Luna began to say something, but stopped short. She followed the Bellhop, and the custodians followed Her. They passed a lounge, with red couches and reclining chairs circled around a strange device with a glass panel on the front. They passed the entrance to the movie theater, with a small concession stand manned by another golem. It was identical to the others. Finally they arrived at a typical, if luxurious, hotel hallway. 

“Feel free to Choose Any room you Like. Have a good Morning!”

The triplets took a room together. Another bed had to be moved in for them. Night didn't offer to share his room with Swift; she would have declined if he had. She didn't ask to share his room either; she thought he would have refused if he had. She asked Luna to share her room, and she agreed.

As she entered the room, it suddenly occurred to her how exhausted she was. She had been awake for at least twenty four hours; constant adrenaline and sheer will to remain vigilant distracted her from her fatigue. Until now. 

But Luna was awake. And her duty was to protect the Princess. So she didn't collapse on the bed and fall asleep, no matter how much she wanted to.

Luna gently sat on the foot of her bed. Staring at nothing. Swift noticed, finally, just how tired She looked. Baggy eyes, matted fur, drooping ears. She looked a lot like-

Like us. 

Swift couldn't squash the thought before it took hold. She looked just as weary and haggard as everypony else. 

Swift kept looking at Her until her heart could no longer bear it. She needed a distraction, quickly. Her eyes swept across the room and glued onto a metallic box sitting on top of their dressers. Curious, she gingerly picked up and turned over in her hand. The front of the box was white and the rest was a wooden brown, though it definitely was not made of wood. Two wires protruded out the back, and the front held some kind of needle-ish thing next to the words Radiation King in bold print. Several knobs and dials sat under the needle.

Swift glanced back at Luna. Still sitting in a daze. She swallowed and turned a knob experimentally. It clicked and more music flowed out of the machine. Satisfied that it wasn’t going to explode, or come alive and attack them, or shoot out sonic blasts that would make their head explode, or-

CRACK

Satisfied that it wasn’t dangerous, Swift sighed and sat down. The music was slow, but not sad or mopey. More like it was lounging; unconcerned with making a point or arriving anywhere, content to recline and plod along pleasantly. Eventually the song ended, and a chipper, masculine voice piped up:

Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, you’re listening to Oasis Radio! Your time is 5:46 AM, your date is October 23rd, 2286, and your host is Mr. New Vegas! Bringing you old hits and new news from Bakersfield to the Great Salt Lake. 

“For those Early Birds and Night Owls just tuning in, tonight is Slow Jazz Saturday, keeping you company during these cold, cold, Autumn nights. Before we get back into the smoothest of tunes available this side of the Rocky Mountains, it’s time for breaking news:

“This just in from fabulous New Vegas: reports from the Nevada Confederate Union Civil Sector indicate that radiation scrubbing teams have been scaling back deployment across the Mojave, with most teams now consisting of rad-tracking robots and a few token scrubbing teams. This would indicate that their job in the Mojave is mostly finished, though the capital has provided no official statements on the subject.

“Additional sources report that the majority of personnel involved in these projects over the past year were members of the Confederacy’s mutant population, including several super mutants from the mountain village of Jacobstown. When approached, one super mutant spoke to our reporters:”

A new voice interjected, rough and growly, “Boss says that helping remove radiation ‘will help strengthen the bonds between mutant and man.’ Not sure what that means, but if it means that humans will shoot us less, then I'm happy.”

Just as quick as he had left, the host returned, “The preceding news segment has been brought to you by Cassidy Caravans. Cassidy Caravans: All sponsors get free whiskey with every delivery.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s been a slow night here at Oasis Radio, so we’re gonna keep those slow tunes coming ‘till sunrise, starting with ‘Danny’s Dream’. Keep dreamin’, folks.”

The new song was more purposeful than previous. It still wasn’t sad, but was a more melancholy melody. Swift glanced at the Princess. She had not moved. Swift thought back to the words of the stallion in the box, ‘Mr. New Vegas’. Very little of what he had said made sense to her. Come to think of it, very little of anything that had happened in the past nine hours made sense to her. It still felt like just a moment ago they were onstage in Salt Lick City, about to make history. She supposed they had still made history, just not in the way they anticipated. 

“Swift Wind?” She’s awake. Swift whirled around at Her voice. Luna was still rooted to her seat on the bed, and stared into her eyes with intense desperation. “I- … Have I been a good leader to you?”

What? “Your Highness, I’m not sure I understand-”

“Have I led you adequately? Have I conducted Myself and my Subjects to a standard more Altitudinous and Baronial than the Highest Courts of the Heavens?”

She’s quoting the Magna Colta. Something isn’t right. “Your Highness, is something wrong?” The instant the words escaped her lips, she saw a single, glistering tear slide down Luna’s perfect face. “A-are you… ?” 

The floodgates burst open. It was not dignified, regal, or calm. Princess Luna cried like… 

… Swift Wind could find no comparison. She had never seen anypony weep like the Princess was weeping in front of her. Not even she had wept this hard, not during her darkest and deepest despondencies. Before she knew it she was sitting by Her side, a hand delicately placed on Her knee. 

She was incoherent for a long time. Swift could only catch bits and pieces. Scattered regrets and lamentations, spanning millennia of life. Finally She calmed down enough for Swift to understand. “Everypony in Equestria fears me,” She said. “The only pony to ever love me was my Sister, and I pushed her away for the sake of this fool’s gambit,” She said. “The first time in a thousand years I ever found ponies I could truly trust, and I led them into a den of monsters,” She said. “I should have been the one to die in that city,” She said. She said other things. Similar things. Everything she said shook Swift Wind to her core.

Swift finally gathered her wits to swoop in, armed to the teeth with denial. “Not everypony in Equestria fears You,” she said. “Think about how the crowds cheered when You stood on that stage,” she said. “So many of Your subjects love You, Luna,” she said. “I love You,” she didn’t say, didn’t even think outside of an infinitesimal, viciously smothered part of her mind. 

Luna did not stop crying, or shuddering, or wheezing. But She cried softer, breathed smoother. She thanked Swift for her kind words. She said She appreciated the sentiment, but that Swift’s words were ultimately hollow. Swift could not understand her plight, or her sorrows, She said. Swift responded, “Even if I can’t understand, I’ll always be here to listen.”

Luna finally smiled. “Thank you Swift,” She whispered, “You are a good friend.” She wanted to say more, struggled to put it into the proper words. After several false starts, She gave up and embraced her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close. 

Luna showed no signs of discomfort despite Swift still being fully armored. Their muzzles were inches away from each other. Swift Wind’s face felt on fire. 

Alicorns aren’t supposed to do this, she thought, They aren’t supposed to weep or bawl, they aren’t supposed to self-flagellate, and they certainly aren’t supposed to embrace their subjects, mere mortals before their divine radiance, like young newlyweds on honeymoon. The idea of her and Luna being newlyweds together was immediately shoved back into the infinitesimal, viciously smothered part of her mind it had escaped from. She still wasn’t sure if she was supposed to hug Luna back or not. Now was not the time for such troublesome (not to mention blasphemous) impulses to rear their grotesque heads.

And yet, despite this, Swift Wind found her muzzle creeping towards Luna’s. Luna didn’t see it; Her eyes were closed. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t proper. And yet her head moved of its own accord, close enough now to feel Her breath on her muzzle, close enough for their lips to almost-

*Knock Knock Knock*

Swift snapped back in control of her body, and somehow restrained herself from recoiling into a fighting stance. She retrieved her head, still unsure whether she was thankful for the intrusion or not, and turned it to look at the intruder. 

It was a tall, pale creature, furless except for the top of his head and eyebrows, wearing a long brown vest and carrying an unconscious First Response on a stretcher made of light. “Hey, y’all,” he drawled in an almost offensively thick Appleoosan accent, “Just lett’n y’all know, Imma leave this here lil’ unicorn in the infirmary so the docs can give ‘er a once-over. Y’alls can visit her if you’s want’n to.” Swift nodded and waved him off, and he disappeared down the hall.

Looking back at Luna, Swift realised just how beautiful She was, even now in such a disheveled state. Her’s was a face she could stare at for hours, basking in the glow of her perfect–

…

…

wait a minute.

Luna’s eyes popped open. Literally, audibly popped open. There was a flash of movement and a hard impact to Swift’s chestplate. The next thing she knew she was partially embedded in the wall, and Luna was sprinting down the hall after the creature, screaming “WAIT!!” at the top of her lungs. She probably hadn’t even noticed shoving Swift aside.

Splinters of wood rained onto the carpet as Swift dislodged herself from the wall. Her cuirass was dented uncomfortably—she tore it off as she ran out the door into the hall. A flash of Luna’s ever-undulating tail whipped around the corner at the far end of the hall. Lock-and-Key poked his head out, still blinking the sleep from his eyes. “Wha- what’s going on?” he groaned, wiping his muzzle with a sleeve.

“First Response’s alive!” she replied as she ran after the Princess, “Something found her and brought her!” She didn’t stop to indulge the confused shouts for clarity behind her. Night Sentinel burst out of his room as she passed it, fully decked and armed. She shouted, “First Response-”

“I heard,” he interrupted, “and I am suspicious.” Swift could relate. They barged through the door at the end of the hall to find themselves in another metal hallway, perpendicular to the residential hall. A directory opposite the door bore directions:


<----- MUSEUM


<-----GARDEN


GYMNASIUM----->


INFIRMARY----->


They turned right. One of the two doors had a large red plus sign hanging from the ceiling. I guess some symbols are omniversal, Swift thought. Night threw the door open and rushed in. Swift squeezed in after him. 

The infirmary was the first room in the hostel so far that hadn’t been surprising to look at. Every surface was white or light blue, beds lined the walls separated by thin curtains. Luna stood behind a row of hanging plastic dividers, motionless. Swift pushed past Night Sentinel and ran through the threshold. 

First Response was lying on a gurney against the wall. She didn’t move, and she hardly breathed. A compact metal cube with a glass screen was attached to the gurney. It displayed lines and numbers that Swift could make no sense of. 

Luna was crying again. Different tears, this time. She tenderly approached First’s side and hovered over her body. The triplets burst in behind them, shouting and stumbling over each other. They stopped inside the nook, and one of them gasped.

“Is… is she...?” Barrel-and-Key whispered.

“She’s alive,” said Luna, “Sweet Mother above, she’s alive.” 

“What happened?” Stock pondered, “How did she get here?”

“That’d be me that done it.”

Everypony yelped and recoiled from the voice. The tall creature Swift had seen carrying First Response was casually leaning against the wall right next to Swift’s gurney. He hadn’t been there a moment ago. She was certain that nopony saw him there. It was as if he had just… appeared in front of them.

Under his long brown vest, he wore a thick black jumper and cargo pants. He was sipping from an orange bottle, as if everything was perfectly normal. “Howdy there. Name’s Sam. I found’er and drove’er over when I heard y’alls were stayin ‘ere. Gave’er a lil’ somethin’ somethin’ to put ‘er to sleep before we get ‘ere.”

Sudden movement in the corner of her eye tore Swift’s attention away. First Response was stirring. When she looked back, Sam was gone.

“WHA- Who- How the Hay? WHAT?!?” Night Sentinel stammered as he frantically searched the room for Sam. He had simply vanished.

“She’s gonna be in a bad way when she finishes wake’n up,” Sam drawled from across the room, halfway out the door to the hallway, “We can talk more after y’all’ve had a good sleep. Right now, y’all should be there when she comes out’a it. Ain’t nothin’ worse than comin’ to in a strange place, without no one y’know in sight.” With a brief wave, he stepped out of sight in one fluid motion. 

“HEY, WAIT!” Swift shouted, blowing past the other custodians, the plastic curtains, and the door. “YOU CAN’T JUST-”

The hallway was empty. All her accusations and demands hung impotently off her teeth, dissipating into confusion and shock after being robbed of a target.

Night Sentinel was behind her. She shook her head, and Night understood immediately. He was visibly shell-shocked by the creature’s, Sam’s, disappearing act. Even his ears can’t detect him moving around, Swift thought, What sort of creature have we stumbled into?

Back in the infirmary, Luna was bent over First’s body. The unicorn was thrashing violently, her left arm flailing about while her other appendages sluggishly trembled in place. Luna placed her horn to First’s forehead and sent a pulse of magic into her head, soothing her panic and sending her into a deep sleep. “I will stay here to ensure that Lieutenant Response recovers peacefully. You all should get some sleep while you can.”

“Wait Wait Wait a minute. Hold up.” Stock-and-Key yawped, “Is nopony going to acknowledge what just happened?”

“Sis, I love you,” Barrel groaned, “but I am completely tapped out after tonight. Nopony has the energy to examine the existence of alien life, its implications, or the possible explanations for its weird, mystical powers. I just wanna go to bed and sleep for the next twelve hours, at least.”

Swift was appalled. “Barrel!” she shouted, “You have a duty to consider at all times! You cannot just abandon your vigil because you’re tired or-”

Lock interrupted, “The thestral left as soon as the Princess said ‘sleep’.”

Night Sentinel was indeed gone. That damned rodent. I swear, one day I’ll just destroy him. Swift tried to continue, but the triplets were already trudging out of the room. Soon it was only her, Luna, and First Response.

“Please, Swift.” Luna said, “I will be fine. Go get some rest.”

Swift objected, “But, your Highness-”

“Go.” Luna interrupted, “Don’t make me make that an order.”

Swift slumped in defeat and trudged out of the room. White noise filled her head as she returned to her quarters. Her thoughts were jumbled up and twisted around each other, and she was too tired to even begin to make sense of them. She opened the door, hesitated for a long time, and then crawled into Luna’s bed.

In the morning, she would tell herself that she was too tired to notice. That she had stumbled into the Princess’s bed by accident. If she was lucky, the others would believe it. If she was very lucky, she would believe it herself. They would all laugh it off—it was just a silly mixup, after all. She would endure a few jokes at her expense, but that would be the end of it. But for now, for tonight, Swift Wind wrapped herself in her Princess’s scent, and rocked herself into a deep sleep. 

For the first time in months, she had no nightmares. For the first time in months, she slept peacefully.
> Chapter 3
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Night Sentinel expected, even hoped, to wake up in his bunk in the Equestrian embassy of his hometown, Dōkutsu City. He would realize that it was all just a dream, shake it off with a chuckle, go about his day and give the entire experience no more thought than to ask Luna what she meant by it once he had the chance. 

Night Sentinel woke up alone, in an underground hotel in another universe. He felt the gentle sting of crudely bandaged slashes and the aches of fresh bruises, gifted by the swarm of absurd monsters ripped from his nightmares. (Literally. His parents fed him ground mantid chowder as punishment as a pup. He would have nightmares for three nights of the mantises returning the favor.)

Reflexively, he sent a few clicks out and listened to them bounce off the walls. All his belongings, all the furniture, and all the ramshackle alarms he had set up lay undisturbed, just as he left them. He heard no unusual sounds, smelled no suspicious smells. Nothing had changed. Satisfied, he turned on the lamp on the bedside cabinet, flinched, and frantically jammed the button until the light softened to its lowest setting.

"Stupid diurnals and their tiny suns", he grumbled as he dragged himself out of bed, rubbing the pain out of his eyes. There was a plain white clock on the wall. Assuming that this world’s timekeeping systems worked the same as Equestrian ones, it was two O'Clock. Morning or afternoon, he didn't know which. 

He trudged over to the narrow table next to the door and fiddled with the coffee machine. Between the half-remembered instructions Night had read in the user's manual yesterday and the machine's user-friendly design, he swiftly had a cup of jasmine tea brewing, with block of honey waiting to be stirred in. 

As he waited for the machine to do its job, he smelled the air and grimaced. He needed a shower. Badly. He guessed that the side door on the rightmost wall led to a bathroom, and he was correct. It was a very nice bathroom. 

The bathtub had water jets. The shower had a bench. The trash can had no bottom. Instead it had a shute, winding down into a darkness so thick that even his eyes couldn't penetrate further than thirty feet. He tossed a wet towel down and listened. It rustled against the sides as it descended, deep enough that he still hadn't heard it hit the bottom after nearly a minute.

Night would have very much liked to know where the trash chutes in this hostel went. But the shower took priority. And it was a very nice shower. The fan was quiet enough for his sensitive ears, but still kept the mirrors from fogging up. The soap smelt of fresh mint. He always loved the smell of fresh mint.

There was a door opposite to his room in the bathroom. Three similar, but distinct scents snaked under the door. One of them was snoring. He had no issue with sharing a bathroom with the triplets, so long as they were more courteous than they had been in the barracks.

The Salt Lick barracks. It seemed so far away now. In a way, he supposed, it was. He had been very upset at the three of them for setting off that device, not just for how it hurt his ears but how Swift Wind had been affected. She hadn’t been just startled: she had been terrified. Afraid for her life. There had to be a story behind that sort of reaction, but Night wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it. 

Nevertheless, Night had never been one to hold a grudge when it wasn’t to his advantage. Given the circumstances, infighting would very much not be to their advantage.

There was a gentle *knock* *knock* *knock* at the door. A golem floated patiently on the other side. Night snapped back to reality, and the implications of the past thirty-six hours came crashing back down. Stuck squatting in an alien hotel manned by magical servants who had no magic, and inhabited by a lanky, hairless ape-thing who blinked around like a ghost. The Noctis Custodes needed to get back some measure of control, and Night Sentinel was the thestral to do it.

He forced his face into neutral and opened the door.

“Hello, Master! I am-”

“Wait,” Night interrupted, “let me guess… You’re the Concierge, yes?”

The Concierge produced a jaunty flourish of music from thin air. “That is. Correct. Sir! I am here To Provide your Attire For the Afternoon, as Well as to Inquire upon Whether You found The Accommodations to your Liking during your Sleep.” It held out a bag full of plain grey clothing. He experimentally held a few shirts and pants up to his body. It all seemed to fit.

Night rubbed the back of his neck, “It was… alright, I suppose. Though I am curious as to how you got clothes in my size.”

“A common complaint. Rest assured, we did not invade your quarters during your slumber to run yardsticks across your body. The Level One facilities took your measurements, and the measurements of your companions, when you first entered.”

“Oh,” Night grumbled, “well, that’s not creepy at all.”

“I am. Happy.  you think So, Sir!” 

He sighed. Before, the auton’s unflappably chipper disposition had been unsettling. Now it was just irritating. “Look, was there anything else you wanted?”

“Yes, Sir. I wish to offer to escort you to the dining hall for a meal. It is common for guests to desire nourishment after a long rest period, after all!”

“Thanks, but no. I’m not hungry right now,” he lied. 

“Very well. Feel free to Roam The grounds as you See fit. If you Require assistance, simply clap Three times and a Hospitality Unit will arrive posthaste! Have a good. Afternoon. Sir!”

Night patiently waited for it to amble out of the hallway. Once it did, he ducked back into his room and locked the door. He smacked his head and berated himself for letting his guard down. This is still unknown territory, he thought, I can’t relax here.  

Swift Wind was alone in her room, asleep; He heard her while he was in the hall. Luna and First Response were still unaccounted for. Alright, first thing’s first, he thought, Check up on the Princess and the Medic, then run recon. We need to know the layout of the hotel; defensible positions, assets, escape routes, yada yada yada. Luna and the nerds can work out the big picture stuff later. Right now we need to get familiar with this place.

Best not to wake the others, he thought. Night always operated best alone: waking the others up before he finished would only complicate things. Alright, just like casing out a market, The parallel brought unpleasant memories, but it fit. Stay low, stay quiet, get the details, and get out. Easy as pie. He rolled his shoulders and pulled the door open. And this time, I won’t even have to worry about patrolling samurai-

“Howdy there, Pard’ner!”

“GYAAHHAHAOYASEIKŌTAWAGOTOFAKKUKUSO!!” Night scrambled back. The pale creature stood on the other side of the door, almost close enough to press his stubby nose against it. Maker-knew how long he had been standing there. Night had nearly plowed headfirst into his belly. 

“Y’all ‘right there, lil’ guy? Didn’ mean t’startle ya!” Sam -Right, he introduced himself last night- said, sporting a wide grin that could feasibly pass as concerned.

Night stammered inarticulately as he searched for an adequate response. Before he could recollect his wits, Sam held up a large, pale, furless hand and said, “Don’ worry, I geddit. Y’all got questions. However, I’mma haf’ta ask y’to keep ‘em to yourself until yer friends wake up. I don’t much like repeating myself.”

That’s fair, Night almost said, before sanity returned to him. “I- do- Are you kidding me?? After the horseapples we’ve gone through from the moment we set foot in this Ō-Inari-forsaken place, you want us to hold our tongues until it suits your timetable?? Are you so conceited that you think we’ll just fall in line like that, or do you think we're just that dense?”

Sam’s face fell into neutrality, with an edge of clinical curiosity. Like a schoolpup examining an especially repulsive insect.  After a tense moment, he broke out into hearty laughter. “HAH HA! Ah… I like you.” Night thought he heard Sam’s accent slip away, but it came back immediately. Must be imagining things. “Alright, how’s about a compromise! I’ll give y’all the short version, and y’all’ll tell your friends when they wake up. Sound fair?”

It did sound fair, all things considered. Night wasn’t sure why it sounded so reasonable; he would have liked to wake everypony up himself and start grilling Sam about What The Hay was going on. But… negotiations were all about compromise, weren’t they? And this was a perfectly reasonable compromise. “Yeah… alright, that works.”

Sam beamed. He might have looked a bit self-satisfied, but Night might have been imagining it. “Well, ain’t that dandy? Ev’ryone loves a compromise, don't they?” He stepped back- he and Night had been uncomfortably close until then, Night somehow hadn’t noticed- and gestured down the hallway, “How’s about we walk ‘n talk? You look the type to need t’explore your land before y’all can rest easy on it. I’ll give ya the tour!”

His knee-jerk reaction was to decline. He preferred solitude while he worked; being led around the facility by the hand, especially by somecreature like Sam, grated on his nerves like little else. Yet... Night felt oddly at-ease around Sam, despite all the obvious reasons not to. Something about the way he carried himself, or perhaps the way he spoke, gave off the aura of a simple, good-natured soul looking to do their best to do right by everycreature they met. (Not a literal aura, mind. Sharp as his senses were, they couldn’t actually examine the souls of others.) At the very least, he thought, he’ll be able to fill in the context for some of the things I find down here. Night nodded, “Alright, that sounds fine. Lead the way.” So Sam led the way, and Night followed a half-pace behind his shoulder, down the hall towards the infirmary. 

Sam, as he elaborated to Night on the walk, was a Human, native to the planet Earth. Night asked why anyone would name their planet after dirt, he responded, “Well, that’s what it’s made of, ain’t it?” Night couldn’t disagree.

Sam was slightly above average height and mass for his species, he continued, and on the tail end of whatever age category came after ‘young adulthood’ and before ‘middle age’. When Night asked about this ‘Nevada-Utah Confederacy’ that the hostel belonged to, Sam rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Well, it’s all a mite complexicated. Basically, a lil’ city down South found itself a lil’ patch of Manifest Destiny layin’ ‘round, and went around colonising and annexing a bunch of territory, mostly ‘round abouts the Northeastern way. Since most of its new land’s in Nevada and Utah, and since they got a lil’ Confederate Congress goin’ on down in the capital, they started callin’ themselves the ‘N-U-C’. Frankly, I think s’all a buncha hoey. I mean, they gots plenty of land in Cali, why don’t it get t’be in the name?”

“Ummm…” Night ummmed.

“B’sides, ain’t like those states or their names’ve meaned anything for over two centuries! Oh, hey! Look sharp, here’s your friend’s place.” They had arrived at the infirmary. First Response was where they had left her, lying on the bed wrapped in a blanket. Luna had fallen asleep during the night (well, technically during the morning) and was sprawled across a chair like a ragdoll. 

Satisfied, Night asked Sam, “What the hay did you give her to make her spaz out last night?”

“Aw, just a lil’ ketamine. Knocked ‘er out right and good so I could get ‘er into the car.”

“And why did this ‘ketamine’ stuff give her seizures when she woke up?”

Sam laughed, waved the accusation off like a fly, “Naw, those weren't seizures. She was just panic’n: higher brain functions take a mite bit to kick in durin’ Emergence. I’ve seen ‘nuff seizures to know one when I see one, and that weren’t no seizure.”

Night mulled over that. It made sense, but… “Hey, weren’t you already gone when she started shake-”

“ALRIGHT, Then!” He interrupted, “Let’s get a move on, how abouts? Tour’s still got a ways to go!” He turned and strode down the hall, towards what must have been the gym. "C'mon now! Hustle up!"

Well, THAT's not suspicious at all, Night thought. 

The human's story, sequentially perforated though it was, didn't stop Night from following him through the hostel. He still needed to run reconnaissance; the presence of a tall, jolly simian would not prevent him from assembling a report on the facility. All he had to do was put together a floor plan, make note of defensible positions, catalogue potentially useful substances and/or objects, et cetera. Nothing he hadn't learned to do long before he joined the Guard. It would be simple to humor the human as he rambled and spun tall tales in the meantime. 

At least, that was his plan. Night could have easily made a thorough report on the hostel if not for one tiny hitch: Sam was a very good lecturer.

The man put a concentrated effort into making sure that Night Sentinel was an engaged and active listener. Try as he could (and did) to weave through his conversational hooks, Sam kept dragging him into meaningful conversation after meaningful conversation.

He asked Night's opinion and sparked genuinely fascinating conversations from their differences in convictions and values. The fact that the dialogues revolved entirely around nigh-complete nonsense, such as whether mangos were tastier than plums, or whether it was more efficient to direct traffic clockwise or counterclockwise around a roundabout, was completely lost on him until long after they reached a conclusion, by which point Night had no time to object before he was swept up again.

Between the frequent diversions into dialogue of varying degrees of frivolity, and the occasional, admittedly very well performed one-human educational skits (Sam could perform a frighteningly wide range of impressions), Night Sentinel was almost entirely unproductive. He wanted to learn how the hostel performed laundry and dining services so far from civilization, or why it was so well-supplied for such a remote facility. He wanted to learn what room would be the easiest to hold out in should the Princess be attacked;  Instead he learned the practical differences between humanity's different kinds of artificial light emitters, and the definition of the word 'aprosexia'. For the first time in his life, Night wished for the company of the insufferable blowhards of high society, who prattled endlessly just to hear their own voice and cared little whether their audience listened or cared.

Night finally found a moment of peace in the library, which happened to be straight across from the exit through the foyer. Rows of bookshelves stacked two ponies high, diligently maintained by another golem (The Librarian, naturally).

Sam brought Night over to the Librarian. “Aight, so! Night Sentry!”

“Sentinel.”

“Whatever. This here robotic research specialist can help ya find all the infor-mah-seeonay you want about humanity, our military power, and how you could defend yerselves against us if we end up dukin’ it out.”

Night nodded, “Alright, good to- Wait What?”

“Wassup?”

“I-” Night reeled at the conversation’s sudden swerve, “Why would I wanna know anything about that?”

Sam looked confused, “Whadda ya mean? That’s th’ whole reason y’all wanted to scope out the place, innit?”

“What? No! I mean- not that I wouldn’t like to know that but- wait- what the hay gave you the idea that I came out here looking for that?”

“Ya think out loud.”

“...”

“...”

“What.”

Sam broke the silence by bending over with laughter. “Ahahaa!!! Oh Sweet Baby Mama of Mercy, the look on your face! Hahahaa!!!” Sam laughed so hard he cried. Night silently scowled at him, totally still. Every so often the human would begin to calm down, only to glance back at Night and his thoroughly irritated glare and plummet right back into hysterics. This cycle repeated several times before Sam was able to collect himself.

“Are you finished?” Night asked.

Sam wiped a tear from his eye with a wheeze and a sigh, and said, “Hoo boy! Man, I haven’t had a laugh that hard since the goddamn McCarran Mess Hall! Fuckin’ hell!”

Night waited for Sam to speak. When it was clear that he wasn’t going to, Night asked, “Well? What made you think that?”

Sam blinked, “Oh, yeah, right. I, uh, didn’t.”

“... What.”

“Think that.” he explained. “I didn’t think that.”

Night gawped, flabbergasted. “Then- what, was that just a random-”

“-A random guess, yeah. I was close, though!”

Night did concede that Sam’s accusation was distantly similar to his actual reason for exploring the hostel. He was still baffled, though. “Then… why? Why would you say that?”

Sam shrugged, “Thought it’d be funny. And I was right.” he broke into a stupid grin, chuckling to himself like Equestria’s most autofellatious village idiot.

Night stood, frozen, flummoxed, watching the human giggle like a fool. He groaned, buried his muzzle in his palms, and said, “Look, I’ll just… I’m gonna go pick some books out for later.”

Sam perked up and called, “Oh! Alright, you do that! Lemme know when y’all’re done, we’ll grab lunch and wait for yer friends t’wake up!”

Night grumbled as he trudged away and through the bookshelves. And to think, he thought, I actually used to be frightened of that buffoon. He shrugged the cloud of annoyance off of his shoulders and stretched his wings back. No matter. Information is what I came here for, and damned if I’m not gonna get it.

He started broad: dictionaries, encyclopedias, textbooks, and so on. Texts to be consulted to find specific subjects for deeper study. Once those were placed in the trolley (courteously provided by the Librarian when it noticed him hefting the dictionaries off the shelf), he racked his brain to remember where the other Custodians lied in their specializations. Medical journals and genealogy studies for First Response. Metalworking, woodworking, and chemistry for Lock, Stock, and Barrel, respectively. Maritime histories and stories for Swift Wind. And finally, as an afterthought, astronomy and astrology books for the Princess. Night had to ask for help finding the astrology guides; they turned out to be kept in the ‘Myths and Folklore’ section of the library, rather than with the sciences. Go figure.

As he strolled out of ‘Myths and Folklore’, something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. In the far corner of the library, opposite the entrance, there was a small, dimly lit hallway where the books seemed… off. Not in the sinister or malevolent sense; in that they appeared less well tended than the rest of the library. The shelves, almost exclusively host to small paperback novels, were coated with a thin sheet of dust. The books themselves were worn and scuffed; a far cry from the pristine condition of every other book Night had seen in the entire library. The lights weren’t defective (perhaps Sam’s impromptu lesson on fluorescent lighting wasn’t so useless after all), they were intentionally dimmed to make the shelves less visible. To drive the point home, the sign hanging above the shelves did not have specific, extensive information on the texts within. Only two words: 


‘Derivative Shlock.’


One could not have imagined a less inviting pair of bookshelves. Night couldn’t resist. 







Well, this was a waste of time.

Normally, when someone put so much effort into discouraging ponies from looking somewhere, it was because that somewhere held something they didn’t want anypony to find. Night assumed this would be the case here. It was not.

Most of the books were trashy fiction novels, clearly marketed to the lowest common denominator. Cheap, awkward romances with characters that couldn’t think their way out of a paper bag; shallow, predictable adventures with dialogue that would make a toddler groan; and ‘science fiction’ that seemed to think that any plot hole could be solved by throwing every vaguely scientific word they could imagine into a blender and pouring the slurry out of the nerdiest character present. The scant few books that didn’t fit this description were no better. Somehow they were worse.

Eventually Night reached his limit, and was about to leave when he spotted something. One book had not been replaced before the reader left, and lay face up on the shelf with the title:


The Completely True Adventures of Courier Six. 


Issue 59: Escape from Zion Valley!


Something about the tiny paperback made Night pause. Perhaps it was the cover. It was much better drawn than the much of the other books he had looked at: Front and center, there stood a tall, broad-shouldered human with a dirty-blonde mane, wearing a beige duster over a blotchy vest. He stood atop a steep hill, his face twisted in a sneer of disgust as he pointed an alien, metal-and-wood stick at a horde of primitives. They were swarming up the hill, wielding ramshackle hatchets and spears and strange sticks of their own. Their sticks sprayed fire up the hill, straight at the lone human on the hilltop.

Perhaps it was the title. ‘Courier Six’ didn’t strike him as a name fit for an adventure hero. Postal workers tended to lead less than exciting lives, by and large. The book’s dubious claim of complete biographical honesty only piqued his curiosity.

Perhaps it was the simple fact that, despite being placed alongside such riveting tomes as ‘The Lair of the White Worm’ and ‘Dildo Cay’, it was part of a series at least 59 issues strong. Such longevity implied success.

Either way, Night had to admit he was intrigued. He flipped the book open to a random page and read;

“The Courier stood tall as he stared down the horde of unwashed savages. His cumulonimbus-grey eyes steeled with determination as they bore into the syphilitic-red eyes of his enemies. The leader of the horde, a mongrel-like warchief wearing a gecko skull for a codpiece, pressed the edge of his rusty hatchet into a trembling missionary. He shouted at the Courier in his nonsense language, but the stench of evil wafted through his grueling voice.

The Courier spoke, clear and powerful, “I won’t let you evildoers hurt any more helpless travelers.” The savages flinched away at his pure, righteous voice. “Make peace with whatever dark, pathetic gods you worship, General Gobbledigook.”

The savage leader trembled as silence fell. His hatchet hand twitched, and the Courier reacted instantly and spewed hot lead from his rifle, felling the evil tribals instantly and leaving their hostages completely unharmed. The nearest hostage cried out in joy and fell down at the Courier’s feet.

“Thank you! Thank you so much Courier! You’re the greatest hero to ever live!”

The Courier smiled. “It was nothing, citizen. There is nothing greater in life than  saving the innocent and defenseless from the clutches of evil. As I always say, a good man can never-”

“What are you reading?”

Night nearly jumped out of his skin. Sam’s head was hovering inches behind his shoulder. “Ai, Chikushō! Why do you always… do…” Night trailed off. Sam did not look his usual, jolly self. He stared at the small paperback in Night’s hands with a deep intensity, his upper lip curved into a ghost of a sneer. “... is something… wrong?” he asked, tepidly.

He felt the book slide tenderly down and out of his grasp. He looked and it was gone, firmly in Sam’s hands. As the human held the book to his face, ambiguity vanished from his expression. There was only deep, violent contempt. Seconds passed. They felt like hours. Then Sam finally said,

“If you’re looking for information on humanity, you would do well to steer clear of this inflammatory pile of drivel.”

Night blinked. Sam’s accent was gone. This new voice was not like the exaggerated caricatures of earlier. Indescribable, except with vague platitudes like ‘intense’ or ‘neutral’. Night felt the fur on his neck stand up. “I’m sorry, what?”

“These books.” He spit the word like venom. “All of them, steaming piles of lies and blind hero-worship. Nothing but mindless violence and propaganda. They’re barely fit for kindling, much less substantive journalism.” Sam’s expression shifted slightly; less anger and more… regret. “And… they’ve done more harm than good.”

And then, somewhere in Sam’s head, a switch was flipped. “So Y’all’d be best served to give these dime novels a wide berth, s’my advice! We got much better stories than what you’ll find in here. Lemme show you, c’mon!”

Night gaped. His mouth bobbed indecisively, like a dead fish, until he shouted, “Ai, ittai nanida- I mean- what the Hay was that?!?”

Sam turned around and kept walking, backwards. “What was what?”

“That-” Night vaguely gestured around Sam, “That thing you did! With your accent!”

The human slowly blinked once. Twice. “... I have an accent?”

“...You know what, never mind,” Night sighed. Sam the Human was a mystery that would have to remain unsolved. At least until somepony with more time and patience than him decided to unravel it. “You wanted to go get food, right?”

Sam did want to go get food. He pushed Night’s cart of books to the front and told the Librarian to leave them in Night’s room, and led the way to the diner, just outside the library through the foyer. A long bar manned by another robot (The Bartender, naturally) dominated the waiting room where guests were meant to sit until they were summoned into the dining hall proper.

And what a dining hall it was. It didn't quite compare to the ballrooms and Great Halls of his puphood, but it was a near thing. Shining chandeliers hung high above Night’s head, lighting the way along plush red carpets winding between rows of wide, polished, mahogany tables. A grand piano sat in the far corner of the room, and a gentle instrumental track soothingly drifted through the air. A robot directed them to one of the larger tables. Sam plopped into a chair at the far end and Night took a seat in the center. 

“So!” Sam chirped, “How ya like the place?”

Night told him that the hostel was pleasant and that he expected to enjoy his stay, though he had a few questions about how the amenities functioned so far remote. Sam opened his mouth to answer when a robot approached the table with a tray of ice water. “Pardon me,” it said, “The rest of The Guests have risen From their sleep. Shall they Be joining you, Sir?”

Sam snatched a glass from the tray and downed several gulps, “*Cough* Yeah, yeah, sure!” It floated away and Sam said, “Figure we can get the introductions outta th’ way and start talk’n ‘bout what y’all’re gonna do next.”

“Yeah,” Night said, “We should put a plan together quick. As nice as this place is, I’d like to start moving towards getting home as soon as First Response is able to… travel…” he trailed off mid-thought. Cogs in his head churned for a second, and something clicked. “HEY!” he accused, “You never told me what happened to First Response last night!”

Sam lazily gulped down the last of his glass before answering, “Yeah, duh. Ya didn’t ask.”

Night sputtered indignantly. “You- you said you would explain what happened!”

“I said I’d answer y’all's questions. Y’aint asked me about what happened t’yer medic last night, so I didn’t tell ya.” he shrugged, “And ya still haven’t asked me, not for nuthin.”

Night wanted to scream. To grab him by the scruff of his collar and shake him for being such a difficult, insufferable imbecile. And if Sam was any less surprised at Night’s frustration, he might’ve actually done it. 

“Just,” Night sighed and buried his head in his hands, “Could you please tell me how you found First Response and brought her here?”

Sam hummed, looked up to the sky in contemplation. “Mmmmmmmuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhh…... no.”

Blink blink. “What?”

“Not yet. In a minute.”

The urge to maim returned with a vengeance. He forced calm into his voice and asked, “And may I ask why?”

Sam pointed behind him, to the entrance. Night swerved around in his seat just in time to see the rest of the ponies saunter into the dining room, trailing behind a robot who was rattling off a clearly prepared speech about the menu and decor. “Oh.” He groaned and slumped forward, “Yeah ok fine whatever.” 

Swift Wind was taking point. She was clearly even less trusting of the hotel than he was: rather than the linen shirts and trousers the rest of the custodians had taken from the hostel staff, a hodgepodge of mismatched plate, chainmail, and gambeson was slapped over her body, patched together from any intact piece of armor she had. The tip of her spear jutted out behind her shoulder, gleaming in the low light of the dining room in what Swift likely imagined was a threatening display. Personally, Night thought it looked amateurish; there was no good way to quickly draw a spear when you sling it onto your back. 

The Keys were behind her, and looked a far cry from the dynamic Night had expected. Rather than surly and impatient, Stock-and-Key walked with a light spring in her step and actually seemed to be listening to what the robot had to say about the cocktail menu. In a similar reversal, both Lock and Barrel slouched and dragged their feet behind their sister. They looked like the walking dead, and acted much the same. Apparently Stock was the morning pony of the three.

First Response was awake, but still immobile. She had a wrap of gauze tied around her head, and was being pushed into the room in a wheelchair. Despite everything, she looked in high spirits. The robot pushing her chair repeatedly reminded her to sit still as she frantically asked Barrel to fill her in on what she missed. Night smelled a hint of something bitter in her breath; she might’ve still had some painkillers in her system.

Luna followed behind the robot pushing First Response. She looked marginally better than she had when Night saw her last: The aetherial breeze in which her hair always fluttered had returned, and her coat was smoothed out around her neck and muzzle. Bags hung under her eyes and her jacket was riddled with wrinkles and the occasional dirt stain, but Luna managed to pull these signs of exhaustion into a look of dignified industry. Royalty always has a way of looking royal, Night thought.

Wait, how did they get here so fast? Night turned around to ask Sam, and he was gone. He didn’t scream, though it was a near thing. Before he could turn and ask the other ponies if they had seen where the human went, Night spotted him casually standing next to the entrance, right behind the others.

“Howdy, friends!” he belted as loud as could be called ‘casually’, startling everypony and making Barrel jump into Stocks arms. She yelled something along the lines of “not again” as she slipped away from her brother and let him fall flat on his rump.

“Oh, Goodness Me!” Luna yelped, “I say, dost thou really feel the need to do that?”

Sam fixed Luna with the same innocent look as before, “Do what, ma’am?”

Luna blinked, opened her mouth to object, then closed it with a subtle grimace. “Never mind. You invited us to discuss things, yes?”

“That’s right ‘bout right, Miss Luna!” He sidled up next to Luna and clapped her on the back. Everypony gasped. Swift Wind tried- and failed- to draw her spear. Sam ignored the looks of shock and horror and pranced to the table, “C’mon, y’all! Get y’selves a seat and get y’selves some drinks!”

A sort of numb awe descended on Night as he watched the custodians cautiously exchange looks. None of the custodians, Night included, knew quite how to respond to the human’s conduct. But Luna’s expression was unreadable. Neutral but not apathetic; Interested but not invested. A textbook example of what Night called the ‘Very Serious Diplomacy Face’. Night would have been impressed if it didn’t remind him so much of his father.

Luna politely sat down opposite from Sam’s spot at the table. The other custodians realised that following the princess’s lead was a better idea than standing around gawping like dead fish, so they sat down as well.

Pleasantries were exchanged. Luna’s were flowery and formal, Sam’s were simple and informal, and the Custodians scattered across the divide between the two, unwilling to commit to either one and risk a faux pas. Night ignored the ceremony and retreated into his mind.

He had known pompous Peers who took delight in driving their ‘lessers’ to frustration and fury. He had known indelicate simpletons who effortlessly drove those around them to rage, without ever considering their words or actions could be offensive. Both of these creatures were familiar, and could be understood and navigated.

Sam presented a unique challenge by virtue of somehow being both, at the same time. Night couldn’t make heads or tails of this human. He kept running the memories through his head, trying to find a method to it all. To answer the question that repeated on loop: Why is he the way that he is?

A tingle of magic ran over Night’s muzzle, drawing him back into the present. He looked down and saw a spectral blue hand gently nudging his chin up to look Luna in the face.

“Sergeant, are you alright? You seem out of sorts.” 

Sam interjected, “Aw, no need to worry ‘bout him. I was just tellin’ him some old stories from my days on the trail. Must’ve spooked him a lil’ bit.” Luna was skeptical, and made it plainly visible. “Trust me, I’ve seen some serious shit out there. And I am a very good storyteller, ma’am.”

Luna side-eyed Night for confirmation. Night nodded his head and looked away. The time would come to put Sam on the spot, but not now. 

The instant a robot floated to their table to take their orders, Lock and Barrel desperately cried out “Coffee!” in unison. Stock snickered at this, drawing venomous looks from both her brothers. Luna, Stock, and First both ordered teas. Night forwent a beverage, and Swift Wind did likewise. Sam leaned in between the robot’s eye stalks and whispered, “Screwdriver” just loud enough for Night to hear.

The robot hovered away towards a barred-off hallway into what smelled like the kitchen. The bars slid away to let it through, then closed behind it. Stock stretched with a sigh and asked, “So… where do we start?”

As one, everypony slid their gazes across the table and stared at Sam expectantly. For his part, he was leaning farther back in his chair than seemed physically possible, and was humming a mindlessly wandering tune to himself as he gently slapped his chest along to the irritatingly inconsistent rhythm. It took a full ten seconds for him to realise the eyes boring into him. 

“... What?”

“If you would recall,” Luna said pointedly, “You pledged to elucidate your part in Lieutenant Response’s survival after we were rested.”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“... So explain yourself.”

Sam grinned, “Not ‘ntil y’all’re rested.”

Luna blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Lookit those two there,” Sam pointed to Lock and Barrel, who were still barely conscious. “I’ll wait until those two get their coffee first; I’d rather not hafta repeat m’self b’cause those two couldn’t get a good night’s sleep.”

“Hey!” Lock objected, “That’s a load of horseapples! We’re awake and aware as any-” A savage yawn surged past his lips, interrupting him, “A- Any- Anypony else!”

Opposite to their sister, Barrel fell asleep upright. A meaty thunk rang out when his head wobbled forward and bashed into the table. The impact startled him awake. “Who-wuh?? I- i mean- Yeah! We’re just fine enough to… to…-” Sleep almost claimed him for Round 2 with the table. Stock jostled him awake and tried to contain her laughter.

Sam lazily pointed in their direction. “Cue-Ee-De.”

Luna nodded slowly after a moment, “Very well, as you wish. I’m sure the wait staff will arrive before any more interruptions spring up.” As the words left her mouth, a steaming teacup and a small dish of sugar cubes were placed in front of her. First Response got her drink with a metal straw, much to her gratitude. Stock savored her tea with both hands, and her brothers immediately guzzled down their coffees black. Sam was brought a tall glass of orange liquid which he left on the table.

It took three more cups of coffee to convince Sam that they were ready to hear his story. Lock was able to keep his composure, but Barrel was visibly vibrating in his seat. Sam tried to claim that Barrel was too wired to pay attention, but Luna put her foot down.

Sam, as he explained, was a scavenger by trade (Though he preferred the term “prospector”) who had recently driven (Barrel thought he had meant ‘driven’ as in carriage driving, which made Sam laugh like one would laugh at an amusingly incorrect pup. He explained that he was driving an ‘automobile’; Luna politely prodded him to stay focused before he could explain what exactly an automobile was) North from his home to trade. Many goods and products, he explained, were worth a lot more here than they were in his home, and vice versa. For example, there was only one water source in the region that was clean enough to serve as a practical, consistent source of drinking water. (Lock raised questions about why all other water sources, such as the giant lake next to the ruins, weren’t drinkable. Luna intervened before Sam could fully swing into a tangent, and politely asked that Lock’s questions wait until later.) Because of this, the people (‘people’ being another word for humans. Apparently they had a lot of names for themselves, but Luna stopped Sam from reciting an exhaustive list.) who owned that water source had a monopoly on water sales, and everyone else (‘everyone’ being a plural inclusive pronoun used by humans, alongside ‘everybody’. First tried to ask about the history of those terms and how they compared to ‘everypony’ and ‘everycreature’. Luna stopped her, much to her disappointment) had to buy from them at a ludicrously high markup. On the flip side, he explained, lumber was plentiful here. Trees grew freely in the hills to the East. Sam, being the enterprising sort he claimed to be, decided to, quote, haul a bunch of water up to them there hills and get m’self some wood on the cheapo. 

When Stock asked what kind of wood he planned on getting, Luna’s patience finally broke. “Stop. Please.”

“Hmm?” Sam stopped.

“I… appreciate your consideration for our ignorance of your society,” she nearly let the mask slip but soldiered on, “but I feel that we are losing focus. Could we please move on to how exactly you found Lieutenant Response?”

Sam scoffed and bonked himself upside the head, “Aw, dammit, Sam. Y’gone and done it again! I’m mighty sorry, ma’am, I do have that tendency to ramble on a bit. Like I remember that one time, me and an ol’ buddy of mine were walking down the highway  and saw this shack on the side of the road sellin’ used-”

“SAM.”

“Right, right, m’sorry. Anyways,” 

Sam eventually managed to meander his way to a relevant explanation. According to him, he drove past the ruins on his way to town and, on a whim, decided to stroll through the ruins and sneak around for some valuable salvage. As he was strolling, he just so happened to find First Response lying unconscious down a sinkhole. 

Swift immediately objected. “Wait. You mean to tell us that you were in the dilapidated ruins of an ancient city, literally blanketed in giant insects, because you just so happened to be passing through??”

“Yeah.” Sam replied, as if it were the simplest thing in the world, “The mantises aint too much trouble, ‘long as you stay quiet and only go in at night. Why, did they harass ya on your way out?”

“REGARDLESS,” Luna interjected, “What happened after you found her?”

“Well, she was pretty outta it. Nasty head wound, couldn't move’er own body right. I gave’er a lil’ somethin’ to put’er to sleep, then carried her out as best I could.”

First merely shrugged when asked to confirm. “Hey don’t look at me,” she said, “I don’t remember a thing from after I fell. Heck, I can barely remember last week.”

“Alright,” Luna slowly nodded, “Let us say I believe you. That still does not answer the question of how you found us.”

It turned out that the answer to that question was simple: Blind luck. After securing First, Sam just decided to take her to the nearest civilization, which just happened to be this hostel. In all likelihood, he had arrived just after they did.

Swift asked,“Why did you carry her in yourself? You could’ve left her with the golems and gone back to your water farming without ever meeting us.” Suspicion dripped from her voice like mildew.

Sam laughed quietly, “hoo boy. ‘Water farming’. That’s a good one. Well, y’see lil’ lady, I go up and down these roads a ton. I stop at these hotels enough that I got m’self a level 1 pass back a few years ago. And seeing as how I was the one to find’er, I figured it couldn’t hurt to make sure the deed got done personally.” Sam continued before Swift could pose the obvious follow-up question,  “The staff told me ‘bout y’all stayin here as I walked in. I put two-and-two t’gether, figured she was one’a y’all that done got left for dead back there. An’ since y’all’s rooms were on the way to the doc, I figured it would be polite to let y’all know she was safe and sound.”

Everypony processed the human’s story quietly. Night couldn’t find any holes in it. Sam’s… disposition did make his thought process more believable. Or at least, less unbelievable. 

“So,” Luna asked, “What do you intend to do now?”

Sam shrugged, grunted noncommittally, “I figure I’ll stick ‘round for a few days. The market on water ain’t goin’ nowhere til spring brings some rain back ‘round this way. B’sides, it ain’t every day I meet honest-to-goodness aliens.” A small smile graced his lips, almost hidden as he took a long sip from his orange beverage. “Who knows, maybe y’all are gonna need some help gettin’ out of a tight spot later. Doesn’t hurt for me to hang around for a while. Does it?”

Luna held eye contact with him; scanning for any hint of deceit or malice behind those shining, impenetrable sunglasses. “... I cannot prohibit you from doing as you please. You have our gratitude for returning our lost mare to us, and we are in your debt.” 

Sam blushed, and almost looked embarrassed, “Aw shucks, it weren't no thing. I just did what anyone would’a done.” 

This humility was thoroughly rejected by First Response, who took it upon herself to heap all sorts of praise and gratitude upon the human. Sam flushed and squirmed like a pup with a compliment from her schoolyard crush, and met her laurels and honors with equal fervor to refute them. Interrupting this contest of wills, a waiter approached the table asking the ponies and human if anyone would like something to eat, and the prospect of a hot meal put the debate over Sam's heroism or lack thereof to a ceasefire. Swift Wind declined, claiming that her rations would do fine, and Night might have followed suit had not the violent tremors in his belly flared up at the thought of a hot meal.

The revelation that humans were partially carnivorous went over better than Sam seemed to expect. Night wasn't particularly troubled by it; the human's platter of grilled ribs was nowhere near as macabre as the buffet spreads he had seen in the banquets held by his cousins in the Sanguine Court. Luna was similarly unmoved. She remarked how long it had been since she was in the presence of meat eaters, and said no more on the matter. The other custodians, while visibly uncomfortable with sharing a table with something that ate other living beings, noted Luna's nonchalance and opted to  keep their objections and concerns to themselves.

As breakfast (or whatever sort of meal one could classify it as) wound down, Sam gave First Response a frighteningly detailed explanation about the etymological history of the words 'everybody' and 'everyone'. First initially had to be reminded that she had asked the question earlier, (her concussion was still impairing her memory) but was quickly enthralled by the breadth of history behind human language. First was frantically demanding that everypony ransack their pockets for a quill and notepad when Night saw an opportunity to retake the initiative. 

So he grabbed it. “Actually,” he said, “There’s a lot of books about this stuff in the library.”

First gasped, “This place has a library!”

“Yeah,” Night said, “A pretty big one, even. And a museum. Sammy here gave me a full tour before you wake up; even helped me pick out some books I thought you guys would appreciate. I’d be happy to show you around.”

“I think that sounds lovely, Sergeant.” Luna said, and turned to the human, “And it would certainly save you, Sam, from having to give a second tour to all of us. You do hate to repeat yourself, don’t you?”

Sam’s eyes floated between Luna and Night Sentinel for a moment. He huffed a chuckle, and shot Night a grin. “Indeed I don’t, ma’am. Indeed I don’t.”

First Response chattered excitedly with the triplets, who responded in their own unique ways. Lock humored her, like an older brother does when their little sibling raves and rambles about whatever incomprehensible fascination captivated their attention. Stock chortled, and teased the medic about her enthusiasm for ‘nerd stuff’. Barrel met First’s enthusiasm with equal passion, though about different subjects of study.  Swift Wind kept her eyes locked on Sam like a falcon, occasionally flinching away from Barrel when he got a bit too animated. 

“By th’way, miss Luna,” Sam said,” before y’all head off to examine the facilities, I had a question.”

“Yes?”

“When’re y’all heading back to y’all home planet?”

And just like that, the jovial atmosphere vanished, and the sobering reality of their situation crashed into the ponies like a runaway train. Luna sat up straighter and told their story. She omitted the finer details, and was both concise and comprehensive as she regaled the human with the events of the last thirty six hours. When all was said and done, there was only one question; one that everyone seated at the table had:

“So, what’re ya gonna do now?”

“Yes indeed.” Luna looked at her custodians meaningfully, “What shall we do next?”

Nopony answered for a long time. “... Um, your highness?” said Stock, “I think I speak for everypony when I say that the ball’s in your court right now.”

“Yeah, Guard Camp didn’t exactly cover the correct response to…” Barrel gestured indistinctly in every direction, “this.”

First gently raised her good hand, “We’ll have to stay here for a while. “Whatever that medicine machine did to me last night, it seems to have realigned the Thoracic vertebrae that broke when I fell. The extra-cerebral blunt trauma I received when I fell is still present, however. I’ll require at least seventy two hours of recuperation, and as much cessation of physical and cognitive exertion during that period as possible.”

“Um…” Barrel said, blinking sheepishly, “in Ponish, please?”

“Her back’s fixed, but she hit ‘er head real bad.” Sam translated, “She’ll hafta sit alone in a dark room for th’next three days doin’ fuck-all.”

First started to object, then nodded and said, “Yeah, basically.” 

“Then that gives us three days to plan.” said Luna, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.

“...Y’all could go down to Vegas.”

“I’m sorry,” said Luna, “Go where exactly?”

Sam took a long sip from his drink before answering, “S’a big ol’ city down South. Rumor has it that they just got their hands on some fancy new techno-doohickeys that can do all sorts of cool shit. Y’could go down there, ask the guv’ment for help.”

Swift looked skeptical, “And how exactly are we supposed to get to this ‘Vegas’?”

Sam shrugged, “Y’could walk,” he said, “It’s ‘bout 400 miles through the mountains though, so I don’t think that’d be a smart thing. An’ I don’ have the space in m’car for the lotta y’all, so that leaves the train.”

Finally, Night thought, something I can understand. “Where can we catch a train?”

“Closest station’s in New Canaan, up North on th’other side of Salt Lake City.” Sam saw the pale looks of horror around him and held up a reassuring hand, “Don’ worry ‘bout the creepy crawlies. There’s roads what go around the city that’re bug-proofed. Caravans go up and down thataways all th’time.”

Night was, to risk understatement, unenthused by this plan. Setting aside the dubious trustworthiness of the human who proposed it, Night wanted almost nothing less than to take another step towards that accursed ruin. But astonishingly, First Response agreed with the plan. “If Sam says the roads are safe,” she said, “then I trust him. He has no reason to lie to us, right?”

One by one, the other custodians slowly talked themselves into agreeing with her. After all, if First of all ponies was willing to go along with it, then who were they to refuse? She’s the one who got paralized up there, after all. Night knew a decided election when he saw one, and quietly agreed to the plan despite his numerous reservations.

Luna said, “Well, in lieu of any other plan, it is decided. Lieutenant, it is best for you to return to the infirmary to recover. The rest of you are free to do as you please.”

And so the ponies stood up and trickled out. The triplets and First Response were chattering amongst themselves about what they planned to do with the next few days and, in First’s case, bemoaning that her required bed rest would bar her from the library for several days. Swift remained seated and watched Sam like a guard dog until Luna stood up, and Swift stood up with her and followed her out.

Night, who had not yet moved from his seat, felt a tingle run down his spine when Sam leaned over and whispered, “Do you think she thinks she’s being subtle?” He grinned again; It was almost smug, like he knew something Night didn’t.

“Sergeant Sentinel?” Luna called from the bar, “A word, please?”

Night took the opportunity to gracefully exit the scene, and left Sam alone at the table with a wave and an indistinct goodbye, which the human returned. Luna pulled him aside to the bar (currently untended- Night supposed it was too early for such drinks to be served) and said, “You were with the human alone, yes?”

“Yeah,” Night said. “He’s…” Night thought over the last few hours, “odd. He acts like a friendly, harmless oaf most of the time. But he knows so much about so much, and sometimes...” Night remembered the library, how he reacted to gravely to that dime novel, “Sometimes I feel like he’s hiding something. Something about him he doesn’t want us knowing.”

“Sergeant,” said Luna, “Do you trust him?”

Night blinked, more than a little surprised, “Princess? I don’t understand.”

“Sergeant, I ask you this because I regard you as the best judge of character among my custodians. Do you trust him?”

“... I don’t think he’s going to try to hurt us.”

Luna loomed a bit closer to him and jabbed his finger into his chest fluff, “That is not what I asked you. Do not deflect. Do. You. Trust. Him?”

Night’s ears flattened to his skull. For a brief, shining moment, Night thought of her as Princess Luna, rather than ‘just’ Luna. Old, long-smothered habits took over, recomposing him into neutrality. He thought of the others, and their chances of ever returning home. He thought of the great expanse of the desert, stretching across the horizon, no civilization to be found. He thought of Sam, and the paradox between his knowledge and behavior. He was watching them, still sitting at the table, sipping from his drink with an indecipherable grin. 

Night answered, “...No. I don’t.”