//------------------------------// // Revel In Your Time // Story: Slouching Towards Canterlot // by EbonQuill //------------------------------// An hour later, I was back in the skywagon. Skysign Glimmer had been in the loop since the beginning, monitoring my updates from Celestia Memorial and intending to guide me from the shadows. However, with the missing foals, she’d abandoned the charade, and pitched me straight into the Princess’s path. I’d forgive her someday for that. Maybe. The spiro had been identified as a special one-shot model, commissioned by Gold Bar, the duke of the Marean Sea colony on the Moon. His colony was under constant threat of unrest thanks to the introduction of some unpopular legislation. When the suddenly disenfranchised took to the streets in anger, he’d doubled down with the Civic Defense Force. Somewhere in all this, his foals started getting home-schooled by a new governess named Damask Rose, who had come highly recommended by none other than Skysign Glimmer. She had spoken to some of the developers, and had designed a spiro with an experimental new feature intended to allow for communication over vast distances by using a pony’s innate magic. The cables mimicked the mind of a pony exactly, providing the spiro access to any of their memories and experiences. In effect, as long as the cables remained around their target, the spiro was the target. Figuratively speaking. “I’d hoped to use that model to coordinate asteroid miners, or as a way to stay in touch with the Off-World colonies without the long delay. I never intended them to be used as weapons,” the Princess had said. Naive. One would think the ageless Princess of Friendship would know better. Then again, ‘Friendship’ isn’t about seeing the worst in each other. If I squinted, I could see her point. However, since the spiro—Damask Rose—had snared Nurse Redfern, she could be tracked along the communication frequency. The Princess had reprogrammed my kit to receive the same frequency, and had looked on as I tested it with a slightly self-satisfied smile. I wasn’t sure if the Princess was pleased at the simplicity of her solution, or smug at the execution of it. Little bit of both, probably. I swerved above a cloudlane snarl, and hit my lights. I was running out of time. Her smirk had lasted right up until the kit switched on and displayed dozens of snares. Damask Rose had not been idle, nor had Redfern been her first victim. According to the metadata feeding to my kit, the earliest victim had been taken several days ago, and never been discovered. Life in the big city, I guess. Skysign and the Princess had almost trampled me getting me out the door. Now, I was rushing towards the only moving signal. We’d coordinated a response using this data to retrieve Damask Rose’s victims. Periodically, I’d have an update from SparkleTech corporate security. They’d rescued this guidance counselor, or that political activist. Almost always somepony with an eye towards aiding those weak and downtrodden. Sometimes, they made no sense, like a filly with a solar flare cutie mark who’d been in the middle of her cute-ceañera. But there were always more. She was escalating quickly. Somewhere below me, in the middle of seventeen million ponies, there lurked a predator. A timberwolf locked in the henhouse. “Dispatch to GP61661, report in.” Swearing, I hoofed the broadcast switch. “Receiving!” There was a silence just long enough for me start grinding my teeth. I spun low over the third district, and traced the thin line of recent contacts. She was close. “From kit of GP58241, this just in: suspect sighted near Celestia’s Palace.” That was one of the larger casinos on the Strip, just inside— “Confirm receipt, I’m in pursuit!” I tuned an earbloom to SparkleTech’s internal network, and listened to Skysign and the Princess coordinate SparkleTech corporate security as they fetched Damask Rose’s victims from around the city. Then, I set the skywagon to autopilot, and pulled out my lightning rod. Twenty inches of brass conduit leading to a sapphire specifically cut to channel electricity, complete with insulation along the bitgrip. A little something CrystalCorp cooked up to even the playing field for us Earth ponies. This one had most of the safety enhancements disabled, so I could bring it to bear against most spiros and come out on top. Most. I really hoped Damask Rose was one of them. The skywagon was setting down in an alleyway, off the main drag. I leapt out of it before it fully landed, and took off towards the Palace. I was too late. Scores of tourists, revelers, and staffponies had all been cocooned by Rose’s cables. I bit into the grip and triggered the rod. As it flared to life, I dashed inside. More cocoons. What in the moonlight was she doing? All those voices in her head had to be distracting. I knew the feeling. “ST Executive to GP61661; Miss Chance, are you still listening?” Skysign’s silky tone silenced the ever-present chatter on the line. I signaled the affirmative on my kit. ‘A full mouth can’t share anything but a load,’ as my Ma used to say. “ST forces are prioritizing retrieval of the victims. Hurry. Twil— the Princess thinks she knows what the target’s goal is.” I signaled the negative and affirmative at the same time, hoping to convey my confusion. The foyer of the casino was in disarray. Gambling tables had been flipped over, cards, chits, and chips scattered all over the floor. Not to mention the dozen or so cocooned bodies. I galloped past them, following the moving signal. I pulled up a hospitality map on my glasses, and overlaid the two. She was going for the elevators. Off in the distance, there was an explosion. Why? The elevators had all stopped, killed from afar by the Princess’s orders. It didn’t look it on the outside, but Celestia’s Palace was a wholly-owned subsidiary of SparkleTech. However, one elevator shaft had been blasted open. She was heading for the roof. Over my earbloom, I heard Skysign again. “Stop her before she reaches the spire!” Why? It didn’t make any sense. My alarm went off for desk duty. Dawn was right around the corner. I waived it off. Then everything clicked. The focus on wisdom. On justice. The poor, when she’d started. Everypony, now that Damask Rose was gravid with her victims’ memories. All of their magic, Earth pony, pegasus, and unicorn. A love of Her subjects, racing towards the dawn. Sweet Sun, She was coming back.