Message in a Bottle

by Starscribe


G5.05: Gyroscopic Failure

James preempted her guest, stepping slightly in front of him. If the major wanted to attack him, she would have to hurt her first. Some small corner of her mind balked—this pony really had attacked her not too long ago. Major Fischer might’ve made some dumb choices, but she had never done anything to threaten James or any other member of the crew.

“I haven’t disobeyed your orders,” she said confidently. As confidently as she could, anyway. “Deadlight isn’t escaping. I haven’t let him out of Othar. You can see he’s wearing the tracker. I just didn’t think it was right to leave him trapped in his cell.”

The major stepped the rest of the way into the room. Behind her, the steel door zipped closed, sealing in place. “I know you weren’t trained, Dr. Irwin… but even you must understand why we don’t let someone we want to stay in prison outside of the brig.” She didn’t raise any of her weapons, though she did stalk towards Deadlight, as though she were three times his size and was about to beat him to a pulp. “You think he’s stupid, Doctor? You think he isn’t watching everything we do? Isn’t searching every minute for a way to escape?”

“I…” James began, but she couldn’t finish her sentence. It was too hard to be stared down by the filly, her glare intense enough that it might’ve melted through steel.

Deadlight himself seemed unafraid of what he was seeing. If anything, he looked amused. Like he was on the edge of laughing, and had to constantly beat it back.

“He’s going to try and escape,” the major continued. “Maybe today, maybe tomorrow, maybe next week. Then the anti-air will put a thousand bullets in him, and that will be that.” She stopped inches away from James, eyes wide and fury all over her face. “Do you want to be responsible for that, Dr. Irwin? I know you civilians have bleeding little hearts that are so sad to see this innocent little native who never did anything wrong locked up in a cage!” She paused, taking a deep, gasping breath. “But he’s locked up because the alternative was either dosing his brain full of memory drugs or shooting him!” She yanked James suddenly and violently forward, so her head pointed at the screen.

Even knowing they were all enhanced, feeling the tug come from such a small body was incredibly disorienting. James very nearly fell over under the force. She didn’t, and soon the satellite image of the ring filled her vision.

Major Fischer was properly screaming at her now. “WHOEVER BUILT THAT RING COULD FLATTEN US LIKE WE’RE FLIES, IRWIN! YOU THINK MY GUNS ARE GOING TO MAKE ONE SHIT-LICKING SCUM FUCK OF A DIFFERENCE WHEN IT COMES GODDAMN ROLLING OVER YOUR PEACE-LOVING ASSES?”

She paused, just long enough to take another breath. James whimpered, unable to meet her eyes. Major Fischer was right, obviously. Anyone who could build this would not be stopped by anything humans could build.

“We’re alone out here.” Olivia let go of her shoulders. “Our only chance in hell is that the builders are dead, don’t care, or they never, ever learn we’re down here.” She pointed back at Deadlight. The stallion watched with concern, one of his legs twitching, almost like he wanted to intervene. But he didn’t.

“The more he learns about us, the more dangerous he is. The more you force me to think about flushing his memories, or flushing him. The kindest, most generous thing you can do is give him his meals and tell him fucking nothing. Then when this is all over he gets to live, we get to live, and nobody gets flattened by unknowable fucking H.P.-Lovecraft-ass space gods. Got it?”

James nodded. She was crying—something she’d learned over the months that ponies could do just fine despite their alien biology. She kept it as quiet as possible, though. It could be worse, and Olivia could make it worse.

Martin kept her head down too—she hadn’t moved from her seat during this whole exchange. James didn’t blame her for that—this adventure was James’s idea to begin with. No defense would get them anywhere. The major’s logic made sense.

But the major wasn’t the one to speak next.

“It’s already too late for that,” Deadlight said, staring across the room at the major. He spoke with even more confidence than he had in the cell—more than anyone had ever showed to Olivia.

He’s been wearing the headset this whole time! James cursed herself for forgetting to give the command to shut it off. But she hadn’t exactly been thinking clearly while the major reamed her.

There was no taking it back now. Major Olivia Fischer turned slowly around, facing Deadlight on the other end of the room. “Nice headset. That’s a translation program, isn’t it?”

He nodded, apparently unmoved by her icy anger. “I know who you are, I know where you’re from, and I know what you’re doing here. But that doesn’t have to be a disadvantage.”

Please don’t get yourself killed, Deadlight. Now that Major Fischer had pointed it out, James realized she would be to blame if this stallion got himself killed. Olivia had wanted to keep him locked up, ignorant, where he could one day be released. But now he knew things—enough that anyone informed about the possibility would recognize the civilization he described capturing him was alien despite its looks.

“It sounds like a disadvantage to me,” the major said. She edged casually around the room, until she stood between Deadlight and the door. This angle also meant that James no longer blocked the path of a potential bullet. James looked—sure enough, the major was wearing a real gun today. She reached for it, very slowly.

“But it’s not,” Deadlight said. “I know you’ve come here from past the horizon. I know your part of the world is dangerous, that you’ve faced constant invasion and enemies. Maybe you heard the stories about Celestia and Luna and you’re afraid your long-separated friends might not be so friendly after all.”

“Oh.” The Major stopped reaching for her handgun, settling her other hoof back onto the ground. “Dr. Irwin told you all that?”

The conversation wasn’t quite real time. Between each new statement there was a pause, as Deadlight waited for the headset to translate. “A little,” he eventually said. “But mostly I figured it out. I’m an expert on ancient civilizations. Been exploring all over. I know about what came before Equestria. I know about Nibiru, about the Endless City. I know Equestria was wrong about the world past the border—knew there were other civilizations out there. If you’ve come all this way to learn about Equestria, well… I think you have just the pony for the job right here. I can help you figure out anything you want to know. In exchange… because this is an exchange, obviously… you’ll tell me about your country.”

He walked up towards her, slowly, apparently unmoved. “But this prisoner thing stops right now. I’m not going to leave the first group of ponies from past Equestria I’ve ever met in my whole life. Maybe the only one to ever penetrate Minotaur lands. But then…” He gestured around the room. “I can see how you would. With all this. But you know you’re not invincible, and I respect that. I can respect not wanting Celestia and all the others to know you’re here when you don’t even know what they’re like.”

He stuck out one hoof towards her. “How about it?”

Major Fischer seemed to consider a long time. She glanced down at the offered hoof, then her pistol. Then she took it. But she didn’t speak to Deadlight. She glared straight across the room at James when she spoke. “The AAs are still on, Dr. Irwin. This is your mess.” She turned and stormed out of the room without another word, the heavy steel door opening and shutting with a thump behind the security bot that followed her.

There was a long silence. Deadlight stared down at his hoof—James was still too flooded with emotion to say anything.

Martin wasn’t. “Was that your plan all along, James? That was neat. Better than I expected. But you should tell me next time—I could’ve helped.”


Lightning Dust was moving up in the world. Well, in some ways she’d been moving down for some time now. But she’d moved so far down that she’d finally started moving up. Did that make any sense?

For the first time, Lightning Dust had been invited to participate in every stage of the supply run. Her business associate, Rocky, insisted she would not have to make the trip very often. Even so, her involvement doubled her cut of the profits.

A few runs like these each month, and she wouldn’t have to worry about hauling contraband up into the city each day. Yes, the long trip underground was a little more dangerous, and it would mean about a week of the month she would be gone. But that seemed like a small price to pay. Besides, all that time not working for Rocky is more time I can be looking for more respectable work.

She had tried a few times to find a job that could support her and a filly without requiring experience. So far, she hadn’t found anything. There was a state stipend for orphans like Lucky, but to claim it would require revealing who they were and where. For obvious reasons, the office was known for quite thorough investigations.

We could go somewhere else. With her certificate and my skill, both of us could work. Any weather team would want us. Lucky’s cutie mark wouldn’t help her get a weather job, but it shouldn’t hurt her. They just needed to find somewhere where they would be more in demand.

Lightning Dust thought about that, and many other things, as she took her last load of contraband up into the streets of the Crystal Empire. She made her way out from an alley and back onto the main thoroughfare as she always did, and immediately she could tell that something was wrong.

The Royal Guard were here in force, their stern eyes watching everything. They flew overhead in tight formations, watching the city’s skies. Lightning Dust kept her head down, hurrying into the marketplace as fast as she could.

She rounded the corner, and was suddenly stopped by several guards. She would’ve seen them holding up traffic for some distance if she hadn’t come in from an alley.

But she ignored the angry looks and shouts the merchants behind her gave, meeting the guards’ eyes. “Import permit,” he said, sounding bored and annoyed. He was a crystal pony stallion, in a local guard uniform, though the spear-wielding guards on either side of the stall were not.

“Of course…” Lightning Dust unhooked herself from the cart, walking slowly around to the back. There was fake paperwork on board for a random inspection, though at no point during her time on the job had Lightning Dust had to use it. The forged permit would be expired by now, thanks to how lax ponies usually were with their laws.

“What’s the occasion, officer? Isn’t the border checkpoint enough?”

“Wouldn’t you think so,” the soldier said, laughing amicably. “We certainly thought so. But with the princess missing and all, well… Princess Cadance insists that strictly following the rules will find her the quickest. I don’t really see what finding a missing princess has to do with inspecting grain, but then she’s the princess and I’m not.”

Lightning Dust removed the notebook of her forged documents from under the back of the cart, moving over as slowly as she could without looking suspicious. This is the last time I try to cut in line. But until today it hadn’t mattered—ponies just flowed in as quickly as the wide boulevard would allow.

Her cart would pass a glancing inspection, if the ponies didn’t remove any of the goods it contained. Her manifests always read “barrels of flour”, and one of them was filled with flour. The rest, though, had a false bottom under only a few cups of flour.

“Here, officer.” She looked away, blushing. There was no sense lying about it. But maybe she could get him not to look too closely by being honest with something that was wrong. The strategy had worked with all of Lucky’s paperwork. “I know I’m behind. It’s just that nopony at the border checkpoint ever cared until a few days ago.”

“No, they never did.” The stallion’s eyes narrowed as he read over the forgery. It was apparently good enough to convince him, because his eyes went only to the date. He took a big red stamp, then plastered over the whole thing. “I’m sorry, miss…” He squinted down at the name. “Storming Skies, but we have new orders.” He gestured, and at once a guard on either side of the cart stiffened and began to approach. “If I find any discrepancy, my orders are to hold the goods for inspection, along with the ponies transporting them. Scuttlebutt is that the princess was smuggled out by a trader like you.”

He pulled out another pad of forms, this one half-empty. He copied over some of the fake identification information from the fake permit. “Turn slightly, I need to get your cutie mark on this.”

Lightning Dust did so, resisting the urge to whimper, or to take off and flee.

“Don’t worry, Miss Skies. Dozens of other ponies are in your exact position. We don’t think any of you have done anything wrong.” He lowered his voice, leaning towards her. “Mostly we’re playing along until this all blows over. Once the princess turns up, things should go back to normal. Anypony who’s lived here knows that when Flurry Heart does something, there’s nopony but herself to blame for it. Cadance just needs to keep busy until it settles down.”

He straightened again, handing Lightning Dust the ripped form. “If you would just go with the sergeant. We’ve rented out a block of hotels for the duration. Your goods will be held in confidence until the inspections are complete. At that point, you’ll be free to go back to business. Though… you should probably renew your permits while you’re at it. Never know when something like this might happen again.”

Lightning Dust nodded. She could’ve protested, could’ve argued or shouted, but didn’t think that was terribly wise. Anything that would draw attention to her, set her apart from a legitimate merchant in her exact position, would prompt a closer inspection. So long as they don’t lock me up, I can get away. Lucky will be upset that she has to change schools.

“If you could go with my sergeant.” He gestured with one hoof towards one of the spear-wielding soldiers. Like most of the guards in the Crystal Empire, his spear was not sharp. He didn’t expect to use it today.

“Sure,” she said, looking down at the ground. Lightning Dust was one of the few ponies who wasn’t terrified of the mere idea of lawbreaking. But she did her best impression of one of those ponies. Mostly she acted like she might have before her experience with the Wonderbolts. Back when she still respected Equestria as a country.

And it worked. Lightning Dust was led away from her cart of contraband, shaking as though she were genuinely afraid of what the soldier might do to her. And that might include some serious punishment, if she was caught before the princess was found again.

When ponies get upset, they lash out. Want to find someone to blame, punish those who they think hurt them far more than they deserve. Dust remembered those words, the only words a princess had ever spoken to her. But for all her kindness, Princess Luna had not remitted her sentence, or intervened on her behalf beyond sitting in at her trial. She had not prevented the destruction of Dust’s life that followed her mistake.

So she resisted the urge to run. She walked alongside the sergeant, talking amicably with him about affairs in the city. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had one suspicion about what might’ve happened to the princess. That her daughter could’ve kidnapped her or somehow brought her against her will was entirely unfathomable to her—Lucky was a filly after all, barely even grown into her cutie mark. She couldn’t kidnap an Alicorn.

Please don’t be involved with this, Sweetheart. Please let me be wrong. But she would have to wait a little longer to find that out. A little longer, and then it would be time to move again. There was something infuriating about that—after all these months, she had to get caught the day she’d started making enough to save again.

At least I still have my savings. Even if I don’t get anything from this, even if Rocky doesn’t get a bit, and won’t let me help again… it should be enough to get far away. She’d heard diamond dogs didn’t like the heat—maybe they would move south for their next home. Somewhere with a great big weather team that wouldn’t put them on the ground for a long time.

Lightning Dust waited until they made it to the hotel, accepting a key from the front desk as she was escorted to the stairwell. The young guard pointed down with one wing. “If you don’t mind, miss.”

She stopped, confused. “A basement room? B-but… I’m a pegasus! You know how awful it is to be trapped underground!” He knew, because he was a pegasus too.

He sighed sympathetically. “Forgive me, ma’am. We know it’s pointless. But we’re taking every precaution to prevent an ‘escape.’” He rolled his eyes. “We know it isn’t fair—whole city has to suffer because the little princess spends too long out on the town. But we don’t make the law, we only enforce it.” He gestured again. “Apologies.”

“Apologies,” she repeated quietly, before walking past him towards the stairs. She stopped beside him and smashed his head into the wall with her shoulder as hard as she could. He dropped, but not before yelping with surprise. Several guards answered the shout with calls of their own, asking what was wrong.

Lightning Dust ignored them. She took to the air, zooming up to the next floor. Another guard was there, an earth pony with no weapon but his hooves. But then, earth ponies didn’t need them. “It’s down there!” she shouted, pointing down the stairs. “A changeling attacked one of the guards!”

The Royal Guard nodded solemnly, charging down the stairs with narrowed eyes and gritted teeth. Lightning Dust didn’t continue up, but focused instead on the other end of the hall, where a large window was open to let in a breeze. Unfortunately, there was also a guard resting beside it—a pegasus like herself, with the familiar spear resting on his shoulder.

He hadn’t left his post, didn’t move from it even now. “Stop, you can’t leave! We have orders!” He didn’t actually raise the spear—which was good, since it could’ve easily skewered her. But ponies were like that—the idea of seriously hurting each other rarely seemed to enter their minds.

Lightning Dust, on the other hoof, would do anything if it meant protecting her filly. You’re the only thing I’ve done right in the last decade, kid. I’m not going to let them find you now.

She gathered wind behind her as she flew, curling in a tight corkscrew in the tiny hallway. Vases of flowers and tiny candleholders were ripped right off the wall and slammed into the guard, a second before the wind itself hit.

The window didn’t swing open so much as shatter into a thousand pieces, right before the wind carried the guard and his spear right out the opening.

Lightning Dust didn’t look back to see if he’d recovered before hitting the ground. Instead she tucked her legs and beat her wings as though Cerberus himself were after her. She didn’t fly above traffic, as was the safe way when you wanted to go quickly—instead, she flew at city level, weaving between obstructions. If she made even a single mistake, she’d be splattered into Lightning-Dust-colored slime all over the ground.

But she didn’t make a mistake. Lightning Dust was the best flyer in Equestria. She was better than the Wonderbolts, no matter how impressive their shows had been. She might even be better than the princesses.

By the time she arrived in the outskirts of town, there was nopony following her she could see. She could hear shouts going up through the city, alarm bells tolling and whistles blowing, but nopony seemed to know where she’d gone. She landed outside her building so abruptly that a nearby window shattered from the force. Somepony screamed, but she ignored that too—there was no time.

Lightning Dust ducked through the now-missing window onto the floor above her own, not even bothering to apologize to the family whose supper she had just interrupted.

She jumped down a floor, and opened the door to her apartment.

Lucky Break should’ve been back from school by now—her classes would’ve dismissed hours ago. She wasn’t there. “Lucky, are you in here?” she called, flying straight to the painting on the far wall, and turning it around. She reached in for her stash of bits… and found nothing.

Lucky? What in Celestia’s name did you do? She scanned around the little apartment, searching for any sign of her wayward daughter. Her saddlebags were missing from the hook, but her books were piled on the desk. So she didn’t go to class. She made her way into the bedroom, but didn’t make it all the way to the closet.

There was a dress lying flat on the bed, nice enough that Lightning Dust knew immediately where the money had gone. Only the finest ponies could afford clothing made by designers like this—clothing dusted with gemstones and sewn by hoof instead of in a factory.

Why? Dust sat back on her haunches, momentarily stunned by what she saw. You were always so smart, Lucky! You knew how much danger we were in! Why steal now?

Then she saw something else—beside the bed, there was a note tacked to the wall, a note that hadn’t been there before. A small cloth bag was hanging from it.

Dust was conscious of voices from the hall, but she ignored them for the moment. She leaned forward to read.

“Mom—you shouldn’t ever read this. In case you do, it means something went wrong. I’m taking Flurry Heart to the ruins. Don’t worry—I’ll make sure she takes credit for everything. We probably just got delayed, but just in case, you probably remember where to find me.

-Lucky.”

Dust didn’t have more time to study the letter for more—there were probably guards outside already. They would be coming in soon. She had to run.

Lightning Dust almost left the little bag hanging right where it had been, but the fact Lucky had hung it right beside her note made her yank it into her mouth as she left. She had nothing else—her saddlebags were on the confiscated cart, and there was no time to gather anything from the apartment. She hurried out the front door, and could hear hoof steps pounding downstairs.

Someone yelled and pointed at her. She galloped a few steps, then out the window into the streets.

There were no guards waiting outside, though she could see a few running around the streets. She would not stand out from the many other fearful ponies moving out here—there would be no reason to look more closely at one frightened pegasus than any of the others. But if she’d really triggered an alarm, then she couldn’t just fly over the border. They’d stop anypony who tried to leave.

But Lightning Dust had other ways to leave the city. She dropped to the ground in a remote alley, pushing aside the entrance to the sewer, and clambered inside. She had no lantern with her this time, so had to feel her way by memory until she got to one of the magical crystals that hung every few dozen meters. She set the little bag down, yanked the crystal off its bracket, then looked at what Lucky had left for her.

Her eyes widened as she saw the glimmer of something like glass from inside, and she pushed the bag a little wider with one hoof. There were gems inside.

Gemstones were not worth as much as some things in Equestria. Precious metals were harder to get, for reasons she didn’t know. Probably something to do with the way gems could be grown and metals couldn’t. Even so, gems were worth more than bits. Those who had larger deals to make frequently used gems instead of bits to save weight. She didn’t know how to evaluate them, except that they weren’t that large, so probably not a fortune or anything.

Lightning Dust had expected to enter a life where she’d be showered with wealth like this, but that hadn’t materialized. Weather ponies could go far, but not when they got cut down the seniority pyramid every few years and had to move.

Lightning Dust sighed, settling the glowing gem into the bag with the others. It made the whole thing shine diffusely, lighting her way.

For a moment—and just a moment—she thought about going back to the diamond dogs. They wouldn’t blame her for getting caught—not with the whole town being inspected. Maybe they would want her to trade elsewhere. If not, she could always fly on, leave Lucky Break to her own devices. The little filly had caused this—she’d somehow got herself involved with the princess, set the whole city on alert, and indirectly gotten Dust caught. She’d stolen money, and who knew what else.

But Lightning Dust wasn’t about to abandon her, despite all that. Lightning Dust had made her own mistakes in her youth. Each time she screwed up, that meant a new transfer to a new home, and new ponies who she would have to get to know all over again.

Lucky Break wasn’t just an orphan—she was her daughter. It didn’t matter what she’d done. Dust would find her and help her out. Somehow.

Despite all her many mistakes, Lightning Dust had never managed to foalnap a princess before.

She dismissed the thought, forced herself to keep walking into the dark. She couldn’t let herself dwell on the details of that time. She hadn’t even found the filly yet. It’s a long flight. She would visit one of the northernmost villages, trade a few gems for a little food, then continue on. She’d fly all through the night if that was what it took.

Thank Celestia I have such a good sense of direction.


“Not nothing,” Lucky muttered, stepping into the room. She paused, setting her saddlebags down in the doorway. Maybe they would stop the automatic door from shutting and sealing them in here.

“It might be some kinda cell…” She set her computation surface down on the ground at Heart’s hooves. “If I get trapped down here, you can… follow this out and get help. All right?”

“Okay.” Flurry Heart looked down at the computation surface, momentarily more interested in what she was seeing than the room they had reached. “What kind of map is this?”

I probably shouldn’t have showed her that. “Later,” was all she said. “It wants us to go there. It might be a communications platform. But if it isn’t, you can be out in the hall, so we won’t both be trapped. Okay?”

“Right.” Flurry Heart lifted the computation surface into the air, retreating a step. She watched Lucky, expression dubious. “I guess that makes sense. You really think it’s gonna trap you?”

“It might,” Lucky answered, frowning to herself. It was possible a system like this might be able to tell the difference between a real pony and a fake one. It might imprison her without doing the same to Flurry Heart. But I’m disposable. The Forerunner has my last report. “If something goes wrong, Princess… I do have one last request.” She switched to English. “Computer, enable arbitrary use of communications subsystem.”

“Command acknowledged.”

Flurry Heart tilted her head to one side. “What language was—”

She interrupted. “If I get stuck, then as soon as you get that map to the surface, just tell it:”—again she switched to English—“Failsafe Gamma.”

The tablet beeped loudly in acknowledgement of her command. “Transmission failure. Retry?”

“No,” she told it. “Disregard commands for sixty seconds.”

“Command acknowledged.”

“Wait, all that?” Flurry Heart scrunched up her face in confusion. “That was a lot of weird words, Lucky.”

“Just ‘Failsafe Gamma’,” she said. “The magic map was trying to do what I asked, because it heard me. But it won’t work down here. It has to have a path to the sky.”

Failsafe Gamma would turn the tablet into its own transmitter, to send a single message. In this case, that message was “Dr. James Irwin has been killed. Self-disable all equipment and do not attempt to recover.”

The process was meant for emergencies—it would do irreparable harm to the computer’s delicate components. Flurry Heart would have to fly south using her own sense of direction.

“Okay.” The princess sat back, looking nervous. “The more careful you are, the more this looks like a trap.”

Lucky shrugged. “Maybe it is. But maybe it isn’t. I don’t wanna come all this way and miss out.” On talking to whoever built Equestria, she finished silently.

“I guess,” Flurry Heart said. “But the next dangerous thing we find, I’m doing. I need something to put in the story!”

“You’d rather there be dangerous animals and lots of traps?”

Flurry Heart blushed. “Well…”

She didn’t pressure her to finish, but instead strode straight up towards the raised platform. As she got close, she felt her flanks begin to warm up a little, as though a light was shining on them. A glance told her that her cutie mark had begun to glow, as bright as Flurry Heart’s horn. “I hope this doesn’t hurt like last time,” she muttered in English, stepping up onto the platform.

Well, she tried. The space above the platform didn’t seem to care much for the ordinary rules of gravity. Lucky stepped, and her hoof kept going, tugging her forward into the space. She squealed, wings beating in protest, but the pull was irresistible. Flapping her wings didn’t even move her.

She heard voices then—words in innumerable array. Some she knew—most she didn’t. Her skull felt warm, and she tried to scream. Blood poured out instead of sound, and the world exploded into stars.