//------------------------------//
// Chapter 33 - Portents 
// Story: Pandemic 
// by ASGeek2012 
//------------------------------//

"So my family moved around a lot," said Laura in a soft voice. "We rarely stayed more than about two years or so in any one place. Mom wanted to be close to her work, so when she finished researching one site, it was on to the next."

"Still, that must've been neat, seeing all those archaeological sites."

Laura tried to identify the speaker. A group of about eight people had gathered in a loose circle. Three had wings including her, two had horns, and the other three had neither. Legs and hips had become more equine such that sitting down was far more comfortable and standing a near impossibility. It had also frustrated all attempts to adjust clothing to suit, thus it had been easier to simply dispense with it. There had been some initial embarrassment at wearing nothing more than underwear below the waist, but they had gotten over it fairly quickly.

Her eyes fell on Joan. Laura smiled faintly. "Yeah, it was kinda nice, but it was really hard to make friends. I had to keep starting all over again."

"Is that why you hardly ever mingled with anyone at school?" Emma asked.

Had that been asked of her as little as a week ago, Laura would have balked at the question and never would have let herself be part of such a large group. Once a gathering grew to about two or three, she had tended to shut down. Now she was not only more relaxed but eager for the social contact, as if it had become a necessity rather than a luxury.

Her new circle of friends didn't just vary by what appendages they sported or the colors of their fur, hair, and feathers. They were a mix of fellow students, one teacher, and adults she had never met before that day. "That's one of the reasons," said Laura. "Not the whole story. It's kind of complicated."

"Does it have anything to do with what we talked about yesterday?" Emma asked. "The class president thing?"

Laura shuddered slightly, and her wings rustled. "A little."

"I never knew why you didn't run for that position," piped the girl named Kelly, the first one to have had an incident with her horn. "You would've been a shoe-in. I would've voted for you."

"Same here," said Emma.

Laura blushed but smiled faintly. "Thank you. It's just ... well ..."

Her glistening gaze flitted among the others. She had trouble considering them strangers anymore. Didn't they share a common bond now? She shifted position and discovered that joints had migrated even further. The movement of her hooves seemed more natural. She was all but fully pony below the waist, as were the others.

Laura took a deep breath. "It was something that happened when I was eight, back when we lived in Nebraska, before Mom's career really took off ..."

She told them the whole story of the storm, the tornado, her terrified little sister, her indecision, and Jenny's story of the weather wizard and his failed apprentice. "So I've been spending all this time trying to make up for it, trying to show how responsible I really could be," said Laura. "But I guess I was still afraid of taking on too much, of failing again. That's what really scared me: being in a position of enormous responsibility and choking again when it really mattered, and this time somepony would get seriously hurt."

Emma uttered a shaky sigh and wrapped a wing around Laura. "Wow, Laura, that took a lot of guts to come out and tell us that."

Laura shook her head. "Not really. I just ... I don't know, it just felt like it was finally the right time to tell somepony about it."

Joan briefly snuggled close to her as well. "I think you did the best you could, especially considering you were only eight."

"Thank you," Laura said in a steadier and more relaxed voice. The contact felt good. She had been on the verge of tears, but now she felt so much better. She lifted her gaze to find the others giving her support even if only with their eyes. Before she could express her appreciation of their support, she was abruptly pulled into a tight hug. Only when she saw a lock of red-streaked yellow fall over her face did she realize who it was. "Sunny??"

"Sorry, Laura," Sadie said in a quavering voice. "Your story was just ... well ... it sort of hit me kind of hard."

Laura hugged her back. "I didn't even know you were here."

Sadie broke off the hug, smiling, her eyes glistening, "I joined when you started your story in earnest. I didn't want to interrupt."

"I'm sorry if it upset you."

Sadie shook her head. "Don't be. It's a bit of a long story why it affected me. Let's just say I know what shouldering a huge responsibility feels like." She hesitated. "Not to mention the fear that those close to you will resent you even when you feel you're doing the right thing."

"I don't think Jenny resents her," Emma said.

"I really hope not," said Laura. "Sometimes I wish I really were some sort of weather-controlling wizard like in her story. I've hated big storms since then, regardless what kind they were."

Emma chuckled. "And you live in Colorado, which is, like, snowstorm-central."

Laura rolled her eyes. "Yeah, tell me about it. At least there won't be any more like that this season."

None of the other winged women contradicted her. The others, however, exchanged confused looks. "That's not what they were saying on the weather.gov site," said Kelly.

"I'm sorry?"

"They were predicting a wet April. Lots more snow."

"No, it's going to be drier and warmer," said Laura.

Kelly stared. "How do you know that?"

Laura hesitated. "I'm not sure. I just--" Before she could continue further, her cell phone rang. She reached over to take it only to find that she couldn't. "Oh, dear."

She held up her hand. The fingers had bent, almost as if to clench into a fist but not quite. She could barely move them, and from the topmost joint to the nail they had fused together. The wrist was bent downward slightly. The fur had advanced down her arms to her elbows.

"I hadn't even noticed it was happening," said Laura in a halting voice.

The others exchanged bemused looks and glanced down at their own hands, only to find themselves in similar straits.

Laura looked at her phone as the ringing stopped and the "missed call" message appeared. "It's my mother. I really wanted to talk to her again."

"I was supposed to call my husband," Joan said in a glum voice. "I got wrapped up in our discussion and forgot."

Kelly looked down at her own useless hands. "I was hoping this wouldn't happen until we had actual hooves. Now what?"

Sadie glanced around for a moment before lowering her head such that it was hidden in the huddle of Laura's friends. "Laura, do you have a stylus for that phone?"

"Yes, but I hardly ever use it," said Laura.

"Where is it?"

"In my bag." Laura pawed at the bag as best as she could with nonworking fingers. "Down in there, but I can't grab it."

Sadie nodded. "Now, everypony, please, don't react too strongly to this, okay? I only just learned how to do this, and I'm sure it will make the powers-that-be here nervous."

The others nodded, the horned ones more eagerly.

Sadie smiled, and her horn started to glow. The similarly glowing stylus rose from the bag. Laura's eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. Several others gasped.

"Shh," Sadie whispered.

"B-but how are you--??" Laura began.

Sadie shook her head and gave her an urgent look. Laura swallowed and nodded as the stylus moved as if by an invisible hand and punched up the contacts list on Laura's phone. It selected the option to call the number just before the phone itself glowed and rose from the floor.

"Here, Laura, I'll hold it for you," said Sadie.

Laura smiled. "Thank you!" She placed the side of her head to the floating phone. "Hi, Mom."

"Sunny, h-how are you doing that?" Kelly asked in an awed voice.

"With my horn," said Sadie. "And a little concentration."

"Can ... can you teach me how to do that? Please??"

"Me, too!" piped another horned woman. "I want to learn that, too!"

Sadie smiled. "Let me see what I can do ..."





Jenny stared at her bare feet, the fantasy novel she had been reading to pass the time sitting face-down next to her. Like her mother, her feet had started to feel cramped inside her sneakers, and now they appeared distorted, the ball of the foot pulled down, the muscles stiff and achy. She didn't have to lift the pant leg to know the fur nearly covered her thighs already.

She knew as assuredly as she knew her own name that she would have hooves by morning, yet she had made a sort of peace with it that she never thought possible. She was going to be a little blue-and-pink pony in another day or so, and it seemed for all the world to be a natural state of affairs.

Yet something in that thought still made her shudder. It was like you had predicted it. That was what James had said to her earlier. She had dismissed it out of hand and intended not to think on it anymore. The idea was preposterous; she was just a mixed-up girl with a few screws loose who liked to live in her own fantasies. Jenny was no longer under any illusions about her intentions; she knew that, had her fantasies been a novel, the "peasant girl" would be a blatant self-insert.

Yet why include herself at all instead of remain the anonymous narrator like she always had done? Why a lowly peasant girl? Why not a princess? Or a queen? After all, she was supposed to be self-centered. Why not give herself more of the spotlight all the time?

Why not a character who might be excluded from the effects of the errant magic of a "Fae Queen?"

Her mother's frustrated sigh interrupted her thoughts. She turned in time to see Sarah lower her cell phone and say, "Why won't she answer?"

"Maybe she went to the bathroom or something," said Jenny. "Or they're doing some sort of test on her or whatever."

"I hope so," said Sarah. "Are you all right? You've been really quiet since we talked earlier."

Jenny shrugged. "Just thinking of stuff."

Sarah smiled faintly. "Your fantasy stuff?"

"Um, maybe."

"It's what I said before, it's not all that you are."

Jenny folded her arms and drew her feet towards her, even as her leg muscles protested the move. "I'm not sure of that anymore." She paused a long moment before saying, "I knew her secrets."

"I'm sorry?"

"The peasant girl," said Jenny. "She knew the secret of the Fae Queen, that it was her magic causing the people of the kingdom to change and--"

Sarah's phone rang. "Jenny, I'm sorry, but this is Laura." She raised the phone. "Laura, thank God, are you all right?"

Jenny wanted to tune the conversation out, but her heart ached at the mention of Laura. Earlier she had feared she might resent her sister if she truly remembered what had happened when she was five. That was fading now, as if her situation somehow had rendered such things too petty to dwell upon.

Sarah suddenly let out a distressed, shaky sigh. "Laura ... I-I don't know what to say. I wish I could be there to help you."

Jenny closed her eyes. She could almost imagine what might be happening to her sister: fur sprouting everywhere, her body becoming more like a little horse every hour, maybe her hands starting to become hooves. In her fantasies, Jenny had never gone down to the detail of how the Fae Queen's magic changed her subjects, but the way the real thing was proceeding simply made sense to her.

"I'm very glad you took the time to call me back one more time," said Sarah in a soft voice. "I, um, don't think we're far behind you." Sarah suddenly chuckled weakly. "Yes, these bright colors should make it easy for us to recognize each other."

Jenny opened her eyes and swallowed hard. "Mom, I-I want to talk to Laura."

"Just a second, honey," said Sarah. She looked towards Jenny. "I'm sorry?"

"I want to talk to her," said Jenny. "Please."

Sarah slowly smiled and nodded. "Laura, Jenny wants to talk to you for a bit. Is that okay?" After a moment, she handed the phone over.

Jenny took the cell phone in her trembling hands. "Uh, hi."

"Hi, Jenny," said Laura in a more cheerful voice than Jenny had expected.

"So, um, you a pony yet?"

Laura uttered a brief chuckle. "Not quite. I think I'm pretty close, though. I kinda want it to be over with. This in-between state is really awkward."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Jenny said in a distracted voice.

"I have to admit, there's another reason I want this to finish," said Laura. "After what I just saw Sunny do, I really, really want to try out these wings."

Jenny struggled to find some reason to scream at her sister for even wanting to succumb to any part of this transformation. After all, it was Laura who was freaking out about it at first and Jenny the one who just rolled with it.

Instead, she could only envy her sister, yet not because Laura had wings. Jenny already knew she was gaining strength; the zipper of her travel bag had jammed earlier, and in her frustration, she ripped half the zipper from the thick cloth by accident. Yet Laura sounded like she had some sort of purpose in mind, even if she hadn't voiced it. It was far more than Jenny felt she had, despite how much of the thought of returning to her fantasies tugged at her mind.

"I hope they work really well," Jenny said in a shaky voice.

"You okay, Jenny?"

Jenny let out a ragged breath. "Laura, I'm ... I-I'm really sorry for all the times I made you feel bad. I never meant it that way."

"It's okay."

"It's not okay!" Jenny cried. "I don't resent you for what happened when I was five."

"I know you don't," Laura said in a subdued voice. "But I still feel like I need to make it up to you. I feel almost like I can, somehow. I'm not sure why."

Jenny sniffled once. "If you ever see me again."

"Hey, stop it," Laura said. "We'll see each other again. What color is your fur?"

"Blue," Jenny said in a low voice. "A few shades lighter than Dad's hair."

"Horn? Wings?"

"Neither."

"So now I'll recognize you."

Jenny sighed. "Yeah, Mom was right, you really are the responsible one."

"Coming from you, Jenny, that means a lot to me," Laura said softly. "I have to go soon. Can you put Mom back on?"

"Sure," Jenny said in a slightly choked voice. "I love you, Laura."

"I love you too, Jenny."

She handed the phone to her mother without looking in her direction. She relaxed somewhat when she felt Sarah squeeze her shoulder gently.

Jenny took a few deep breaths until her emotions felt under better control. Laura had once tried to find a deeper meaning for what was happening to them. Jenny had never voiced it, but she had thought her sister almost as crazy as the loon at Preacher's Corner. Now she wasn't so sure.

Nor was she sure why she thought her fantasies had anything to do with it.





"I want to see my wife and daughter," Harold said in a firm voice as Bob watched from a short distance away.

The lab technician gave him an exasperated look even as his voice remained polite. "I'm sorry you've been separated from her, sir, but you're not unique in this regard."

"I don't give a shit if I'm 'not unique.' I want to see them."

"Sir, we'll do our best to reunite families at a later date when the initial crisis is over, but until then--"

"You don't even have a clue what this is or how to stop it, do you?"

"We just might, sir, if people like you would cooperate. Now, kindly extend your arm so I can take a blood sample."

Harold folded his arms against his chest and stood as straight as his failing posture would allow. He forced his recalcitrant feet into laying flat against the floor, a position that Bob could not imagine was the least bit comfortable. "Why can't I at least talk to them?"

"Sir, we have gone out of our way to provide enough charging stations to allow you to keep your cell phone working, thus I suggest--"

"My cell phone?" He gestured towards the side. "She's just on the other side of that goddamned wall! If I shouted loud enough, she could hear me."

The technician sighed. "Please don't do that. My understanding is that equine ears are rather sensitive."

"I'm not the only one complaining about this."

"I know that all too well, but there's not a whole lot I can do about it. In case you haven't noticed, we're just as frustrated as you are. We wish we had this solved so we could treat you and send you all home."

It hadn't taken much time for Bob to observe how so many people at the shelter worried so little about what they were becoming. Harold had always kept his emotional cards close to the chest, but since arriving in the shelter, he seemed more willing to show his hand. Bob had no idea if the situation was getting to him or if it were another mental aspect of the transformation.

Bob did admire Harold's dedication to family. If anyone had any complaints to make about the lack of such, it was Bob. Yet as soon as that thought entered his head, he tried to quell it. He wanted to believe he had made his peace with his mother's actions, but more importantly, Eileen had made peace with them as well.

"Yeah, all right, fine," Harold muttered as he turned away.

"Sir, the blood sample?" the technician called out, though from his resigned tone, he had likely already given up on it.

Harold said not a word in reply as he headed away, and Bob tensed. Harold sometimes liked to tread heavily to show his frustration, but someone else had done that earlier and cracked a floorboard.

"Sorry it didn't work out," said Bob as Harold approached.

Harold's forlorn gaze rested on Bob, and Bob hoped it was not just because his eyes had turned dark cyan not fifteen minutes ago. "It's fine, sport. I'm just not a patient stallion anymore."

Bob gave him an odd look.

Harold sighed. "I did it again, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did," said Bob. "I have to admit, it's a little disturbing."

"Why's that?"

"It's one thing to have a physical transformation," said Bob. "And maybe the whole thing about people being so calm and accepting about it as it progresses is better than people panicking, but the speech change seems like the odd man out. It suggests something is happening at a societal level as well."

Harold wiped his face with his hand. "Forgive me, Bob, but I'm not as scientifically minded as you. Could you translate that for former country hicks like me?"

"It means it's like someone is not just rewriting our genetic code, but the way we interact with each other. I don't like the implications."

"Maybe you should go talk to these people instead. Maybe convince them that this societal change thing is just going to mean more complaints." Harold frowned. "This is ridiculous. I have the strength now to punch somepony through a wall and can't use it to protect my family."

The question that rose in Bob's mind was: protect them from what? Bob hadn't any need to hear the rumors to know that someone was pulling the strings behind the scenes to some unknown intent. He doubted all the strength in the world would protect them from that.

"Hey, I hear you," said a new voice before Bob could think of a reply. "I think you were right to tell off the goons running this place."

They were approached by a thin, middle aged man with very dark violet hair, red eyes, and pony ears covered in dusky red fur.

"Uh, thanks," said Harold. He glanced towards the technicians. "But I guess they're really only doing their job."

"Still, it's not right, separating families like that." He chuckled. "My wife must be giving them hell right now. Anyway, you're Harry Tanner, right?"

"Yeah, that's me."

The man extended his hand. "Ken Carlyle, James' father."

Harold hesitated only a second before taking the proffered hand. He gestured with his free hand towards Bob. "This is Bob, my, um ..."

"I'm his son," Bob said softly.

Harold's lips curled into a small smile. "Yeah, he's my son."

Ken nodded at Bob. "Nice to meet the both of you." He hesitated and scratched his head. "Anyway, you probably experienced my wife's, ah, temperament first hand."

Bob knew that James' mother had complained about Jenny, but he had not been privy to the details. "Yes, I did," said Harold in a flat voice. "I have to admit, I wasn't too thrilled with it."

"Yeah, um, about that--"

Harold shook his head. "Never mind, I shouldn't have said that."

"Nah, it's fine. Margaret is not exactly the most tactful person in the world, and really, James needs to learn to think on his own and not let a pretty girl turn his head to mush."

"Is James here?" Bob asked.

"Yeah, he found a boy he knows from school here and was talking to him." Ken shook his head. "Man, I swear, seeing that horn sticking up out of that other boy's head is weird."

Bob looked thoughtful for a moment. "Mr. Carlyle, may I ask you something?"

Ken nodded. "Sure, kid, what is it?"

"Are you showing signs of increased strength as well?"

Ken smirked. "You know, that's the real ironic thing about this. I kinda envied Harry here for a long while."

Harold raised an eyebrow. "You did?"

"The way you kept yourself in shape," said Ken. "I used to be that way, until I let myself go. Now it's like I've been at the gym every day. I sorta feel like I cheated, getting all this strength without working for it, you know?"

Bob wondered if the work Harold had put into maintaining his physique was simply to be ready to fend off any threats, or a means to feel like he was still in control, especially since most of the "threats" that faced the family were financial.

"I had an unfair advantage," said Harold. "I worked on a farm for most of my childhood."

"Huh, small world," said Ken. "My parents were ranchers in Nebraska."

Bob's eyebrows rose.

"They never put me to work on it though." Ken's ears suddenly swiveled, and he turned his head. "James is calling me. I'll see you later, 'kay?"

Harold managed a small smile. "Yeah, see you. And thanks."

Ken smiled before heading away.

"That's an interesting pattern," said Bob.

Harold's gaze lingered on the departing man before he shifted his gaze to Bob. "Pardon?"

"I've been trying to pick up on a pattern between those who get horns, wings, or neither," said Bob. "So far it seems like those with neither have some sort of background in doing physical labor. I mean, granted, my sample size is small, but--"

Harold smiled. "You just can't stop being the science guy, huh?"

"Nothing about the transformation itself is making sense," said Bob. "So I'm kind of desperate to find something that does make sense." He paused before adding in a lower voice, "I'm sorry if that bothers you."

Harold placed an arm around Bob's shoulders and drew him close. "It doesn't, champ, really. I'm sorry I never really connected with you on that level."

Bob averted his eyes. "We've been over that."

"I'm not sure we ever really settled it. Both this crisis and Eileen sort of interrupted it."

Bob wanted to complain that there were more important matters at stake. He was under no illusions that his nascent scientific knowledge was any match for those running the show, but he wanted to spend his limited time pitting his intellect against this transformation before it robbed him of his ability to care what he was becoming. He did feel closer to his "adoptive" father than he ever had before, but he worried whether it was coming out of his own head or just another mental aspect of the transformation.

It also didn't help that Bob had come to a stark realization: for the past ten years, the family had acted at cross-purposes. Harold had been so intent on connecting with Bob that he neglected Jenny, and Bob had refused to acknowledge that he felt closer to Sarah than he ever had to Harold.

"I told my mother that she needed to get on with her life and not worry about me," said Bob in a soft voice. "That my place was with you and Aunt Sarah, and she didn't need to feel like a failure because of that. She did the best she could."

Bob knew Harold would disagree with that last statement, but thankfully he chose not to belabor that point. "All we both wanted to do was provide a good home and a good life for you."

"And you have, that's my point!" said Bob. "Please stop getting all wound up about how our relationship turned out. It's not doing either of us any good. Just appreciate what you've done for me instead of trying to be the perfect father, because it makes me feel like I have to be the perfect son to match that."

Harold was quiet for a long moment. "You really know how to hit a guy where he lives, you know that?"

"I'm sorry."

Harold shook his head. "Don't be. You just made me realize something Sarah's been trying to pound into my thick skull concerning my own father, but I refused to listen."

"I know you don't have a great relationship with him," said Bob. "But I don't know a lot of the details."

"Let's just say I've been trying to live up to his ideals instead of my own."

"Just like my mother thought she had to live up to Aunt Sarah's ideals."

Harold chuckled. "Well, what do you know. I actually have something in common with Eileen."

"Maybe it's not really a fair comparison," said Bob. "I mean, my mother did do things she should've known were wrong. I don't think you were wrong in wanting to find your own path."

"Yeah, I was just unsure of my motivations. Truth is, I do miss the farm. I just chafed under what he had expected of me, like he just assumed I was going to pursue farming as a lifelong career. I wasn't sure whether I was leaving the farm because I really wanted to, or because I just felt the need to show him I could be my own person."

"I have to admit, I did wonder why you picked the IT industry."

Harold shrugged. "I had a head for math, so computer programming was easy to pick up. It was the biggest and easiest job market to get into at the time, and the pay was decent." He smiled faintly. "Maybe I should see this as a chance to do something different. Not like I'll be able to use a keyboard with hooves."

Bob managed not to shudder as he recalled his mother's earlier similar sentiment.





With as many people working at the hospital, the coffee supply was limited to automated dispensers that, in Kevin's view, were only one level above drinking sludge. He missed having Sunny about, as she always managed to find good, fresh coffee from somewhere. With all the talk about magic recently, he suggested tongue-in-cheek to a colleague that perhaps Sunny had a coffee-making spell. The joke had not gone over well.

Thus despite his need for caffeine, he was actually grateful to be delayed from taking the first sip when he saw Sandra rushing towards him down the hall. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Sandra said nothing, but instead grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the nearest conference room. Kevin almost spilled his coffee, but it didn't matter; seeing Sandra this flustered had instantly chased away his exhaustion for the moment.

"What's going on?" Kevin said as she closed the door behind them.

Sandra spun around to face him. "I needed to talk to you before Mr. Heller orders security around you increased."

Kevin set down the cup. "And to what do I owe this dubious honor?"

"The 'alien ponies' are suddenly very interested in you."

Kevin didn't need to think about it. "My immunity."

"Yes, I was foolish enough to mention it in my shock. I've already been chewed out by our esteemed Mr. Heller."

Kevin gave her a concerned look. "It takes a hell of a lot to shock you. What happened?"

Sandra took a deep breath. "I saw one of them teleport."

Kevin stared. "Did I hear you right? Teleport?"

"Yes, as in disappear from one spot and reappear in the other. Normally I would have doubted my senses, but the guards outside heard the noise the displaced air made." Sandra paused. "She can also fly."

"Sandra, I don't think you were foolish at all," said Kevin. "If there's any truth to their story--"

"You were the one suggesting we don't take it seriously."

"I didn't quite say it that way," said Kevin. "Now, what is it you're not telling me? Something else has you spooked to hell and back."

Sandra took another deep breath. "Miss Sparkle said that the influenza virus and ETS are one and the same."

Kevin paused a long moment. He finally sank into a seat and ran his hand over his hair. "Of all the days I ever wanted to be wrong."

"She can't be right."

"Why the devil not? We've already seen a positive correlation in flu and ETS. If this really is some sort of biowarfare like Mr. Heller thinks, it makes sense it would be engineered to make it hard to detect."

"Because if she's right, we're facing a problem that may be too big to contain!" Sandra exclaimed. "The numbers we were given for the influenza infection may be grossly underestimated. The CDC is struggling to get accurate information. We may have already lost the battle!"

Kevin remained silent, looking intensely thoughtful.

"I wouldn't be so upset if I hadn't just received a medical report passed to me from the FBI," said Sandra in a lower voice. "It was in regards to the testing they did on Mr. Turner's bunker. They found no evidence of any bioengineering equipment, but they did find influenza."

Kevin looked up. "I'm sorry?"

"Live influenza on the bathroom sink, on the beddings, on the furniture," said Sandra. "Normal influenza lasts maybe a few hours on an open surface. This lasted over a week. This hasn't just been weaponized, it's been hardened. People can wash their damn hands all they want and they'll still encounter some surface somewhere that will infect them. We already have six staff members who have been sidelined with the beginnings of the flu. Even with all our precautions, people are still coming down with it."

"What about Janet Turner and the police officers?"

"We're still treating them with antivirals. No obvious effect yet."

Kevin stood. "Are these ponies still offering assistance?"

"Yes, Miss Sparkle was very adamant about it."

"Then let's accept it."

"That's not my call to make, Kevin."

"Then talk some sense into those who can!" Kevin thundered. "At this point, we have nothing to lose! At the very least, let me talk to the ponies."

Sandra frowned. "And what if they're here to ensure that this attack goes through to completion? What if they want to neutralize you as a threat?"

"I'm willing to take that chance."

"The rest of the world may not be."

"If they really do have the power to teleport, Sandra, what's to stop them from just popping into existence next to me and doing whatever they want?" Kevin asked. "The fact that they aren't means they might be telling the truth. Being cautious is one thing, but being paranoid can lead us to ruin."

Sandra sighed. "You're not telling me anything that I haven't already thought of, especially after the latest reports I received from the shelters."

"I was going to ask you about that," said Kevin in a somber voice. "How bad?"

Sandra opened one of her folders. "We're going to have between one hundred and one hundred twenty complete transformations by morning." She gave Kevin a solemn look. "That will include one of your patients: Laura Tanner."

Kevin took a deep breath and let it go.

"I'm sorry, Kevin. I'm not sure what to say. You didn't technically 'lose' this patient as she's still alive and apparently healthy but--"

Kevin raised a hand. "It's fine. I need to stop dwelling on the past, anyway. Let's focus on the present."

Sandra snapped the folder closed. "Kevin, if you're adamant about accepting their help, then that's the message I'll convey. I've been invited to a conference in the wake of Mr. Heller's interview of the two ponies." She paused. "I'm told the President will be in attendance on teleconference."

"I take it I'm not invited," said Kevin.

"Be grateful, I expect this to go on all night," said Sandra in a tired voice.

Kevin smirked. "Perhaps it's for the best. This way I won't feel guilty that I didn't vote for him."

Sandra managed a faint smile of her own. "I'll convey your willingness to be involved, and we'll convene a conference first thing in the morning. I'll make sure you're invited to that one."





Star waited until full night had descended. Despite the silence of the neighborhood, her heart still hammered as she ventured out into the back yard. She almost reeled from the strange smells that assaulted her the moment the cool night air wafted in through the open door. None of them were necessarily bad, they were just so vastly different from what she was used to that it sparked an almost instinctual wariness.

Her stomach rumbled. She wished it were summer, as there might be a chance of some flowers she could munch on. The food in the house was palatable, but not as good or satisfying as back home.

She looked up and found even the skies lacking. Despite the cloudless night, there were not nearly as many stars out as she had expected. Sunset had warned her about that, something about "light pollution." She glanced back towards the house and shut off the lights with a touch of magic. That helped a bit.

That was another thing she had trouble getting used to: the artificial lights the natives used were so bright. Nighttime lighting back in Equestria was much more subdued, and their purpose was just to let one see enough to get ready for bed.

Star sat on her haunches, trying to ignore how the cooling air made her shiver. Her heart thumped as she contemplated what she was about to do. For so long she had wanted to deny her talent had even existed, but as she contemplated doing what had been the unthinkable for so long, she felt a strange sense of excitement. Why shouldn't she? This is what her cutie mark told her she was supposed to do.

Sunset had informed her that the natives had no similar concept to cutie marks, or any indication from an early age as to what their talent would be. She had claimed it was both a boon and a bane. Some could switch with ease from one career to another, while others agonized for years as to what they really wanted to do with their lives. Sunset, true to her mindset, tended to side in favor of cutie marks. Star was not so sure herself anymore.

Star swallowed hard. She lifted her eyes to the sky, then after a moment's pause, she lifted her voice as well.

Sunset had assured her that the neighborhood had all but emptied itself earlier that day, but she could not help but wonder if there were any natives around who could hear her. If there were, they would experience a flowing yet haunting melody, a tune not so much heard as felt, as if it had woven itself into the very threads of reality rather than carried by a mere modulated sound wave.

It was music that the deaf could hear.

Star Singer closed her eyes, yet the heavens remained in plain view in her mind. She shuddered with growing excitement, as she had not expected to make a connection this fast. It was as if the stars were eager -- no, desperate -- for contact. She gasped as she realized just how utterly vast this universe was. In a flicker of an instant, she saw the stars' endless cycle of life and death, coalescing and expanding, massive engines of creation and destruction far older than anything she had ever experienced back home. The time scales almost defied her understanding, but she craved it anyway.

Yet when she reached out to them, they trembled and drew back. Star herself shuddered as emotions not her own roiled inside her. She whimpered softly as she expressed their fear. More stars joined a chorus that threatened to become a cacophony. Star changed her melody, one intended to soothe rather than query. Even in the most dire of visions back in Equestria, the stars rarely exhibited fear. The closest they had ever come to that was during her vision of Tirek.

Star was unable to separate her thoughts from those of the heavens. They shuddered and wailed, and her body tensed as a vision appeared at the edges of her perception, just as it had back in Equestria. A dark, amorphous shape, akin to smoke or fog, just as she had seen before. Instead of remaining indistinct and untouchable, it grew closer, its edges squirming like something alive.

An orb of blue, white, and green appeared before the cloud, its surface covered in incomprehensible designs. The orb disappeared within, and Star held her breath. The cloud writhed as if in pain, and the orb passed through unscathed, trailing shredded bits of blackness behind it.

The cloud reassembled itself, a process that happened quickly in Star's mental landscape, but she felt the same sense of the passing of eons without meaningful measure. Another blue orb appeared in its path, tame and quiet, but brimming with power that sang of life and harmony.

Star's heart skipped a beat as the stars instead sang of mourning, anger, and frustration. Her haunches trembled with the desire to bolt rather than watch this vision any longer. The cloud enveloped and enshrouded the orb, and a terrible scream of pain, regret, and death rang inside Star Singer's head. She clenched her teeth and lowered her head to the earth, covering her head with her forelegs. Yet the screaming would not stop.

The monster grew bloated and grotesque until it let loose lances of energy of a power beyond reason or scale. Star Singer's song was shattered, and she lifted a shrill scream of her own to the heavens instead.