//------------------------------//
// SNAFU 
// Story: The Legion of Bronze 
// by Sixes_And_Sevens 
//------------------------------//

Ditzy smiled at the Doctor over the light of the candle. “This is nice,” she said, taking another forkful of ravioli and blowing on it gently.
“Mm,” the Doctor agreed. “The pasta is delicious, dear.”
“Oh, your tomato sauce is good, too. The pasta, the atmosphere, the romance…” Ditzy said. “Really, it’s almost enough to make me forgive you for blowing out the fusebox.”
The tan stallion brightened. “Really?”
“Al~most,” Ditzy stressed, playfully waggling her fork at her husband. “You’ve still got a ways to go.”
The Doctor sighed, but he was grinning. “Would a nice evening out smooth things over? Maris? Barsaddlona? Reindeerdam? Perhaps the Centaur cities on Tyr, five thousand years in the future, or the ruins of Deerillium with its singing trees. Anywhere and anywhen, love.”
“Oh, you are sweet,” Ditzy said. “But not as sweet as the pie I had in the oven when you blew up the generator.”
“There’s still the TARDIS kitchen,” the Doctor pointed out. “It’s not like that isn’t on a separate power grid.”
“Point,” Ditzy said thoughtfully. “A distinct point. Alright, we’ll bake the pie in the TARDIS and then go visit some beautiful alien city, and then and only then will you be forgiven.”
The Doctor grinned. “Sounds good to me!”
“Shall we drink to it?”
“Oh, lets,” said the Doctor, raising his cider. The glasses met with a knock-knock-knock.
Ditzy paused. “Should we try that again?”
“Alright.” Glasses raised and met, knock-knock-knock.
“Hm,” said the Doctor. “Right, either we’ve come under attack from the Onomatopoeian Empire, or—”
“Somepony’s at the door,” Ditzy said.
“Oh, right, I suppose that could be it too,” the Doctor said with a grin, pushing away from the table. “Well, the sooner we see who it is, the sooner we can send them away so we can get back to our evening.”
Ditzy smirked, wrinkling her muzzle. “Or the sooner we can get drawn into some ridiculous alien plot to take over the world.”
“And the sooner we can defeat it!”
Ditzy laughed gaily as she fluttered to the cottage door. “Well, good even—”
She stopped as soon as she saw the miserable orang face on the other side. “—ing… Scootaloo? What are you doing here?”
“Can I… can I come in?”
Ditzy stood aside as Scootaloo rolled her scooter inside. The Doctor rose from the table. “What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.
“I… I just…” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Can I use the TARDIS? I need to see something. It’s a long story.”
The Doctor looked at Ditzy. Ditzy looked at the Doctor. “...Right, okay,” said the tan Time Lord. “Where d’you need to go?”
“Past,” the orange mare said firmly. “Back along my… family history. I mean, I don’t know exactly where or when, but—”
“No fear,” the Doctor said, pushing in his chair. “Allons-y!”
He led the way out of the cottage, Ditzy pausing only to blow out the candle on the table. In a corner of the backyard, the TARDIS sat idly, waiting patiently for her passengers. A cool breeze had sprung up, and the moon was bright and massive and orange on the horizon. The Doctor gestured to the big blue doors with a mock bow. “Ladies first,” he said with a wink.
Ditzy poked her head in first, followed by Scootaloo. The orange mare gazed around in wonder for several seconds, barely even registering the bay stallion as he brushed by her. “I am never gonna get used to this,” she murmured.
The grey mare grinned at her. “I know, right? Not only does she break all known laws of physics, she’s also gorgeous.”
The console let out a garbled electronic purr of pleasure. Ditzy patted it lightly and then leaned in and kissed the woody surface lightly. Scootaloo coughed awkwardly. “So, uh, where did the Doctor go?”
“Here! Right here!” the Doctor called from underneath the floor. “Sorry, it’s been awhile since I’ve used this feature, needed to do a little test on it first. Just gimme—” There was a loud sizzling sound and a startled yelp, followed by the thud of flesh falling against metal. “It’s okay! I’m okay!”
Ditzy giggled quietly as the Doctor poked his head up over the edge. His mane was blown back in all directions, and his face was grey with soot. “Right, Scootaloo, there’s a sort of drawer underneath the navigation console.”
Scootaloo stared at the dizzying array of dials and switches. “Uh…”
“Mostly red, big screen on it?”
“Right.”
“Open it up.”
The pegasus squinted at the knob suspiciously, but grabbed it in her teeth and pulled. Slowly, a panel began to slide out. It was covered in holes filled with blue gel. “Okay, what’s this?”
“Psychic controls,” the Time Lord said. “Basically, it goes wherever it is that you’re thinking of. The gel is a sort of conduit for increasing the telepathic circuitry of the TARDIS. But you have to be careful not to let your mind wander, or you’ll end up… well, who knows where!”
“Right. Keep your eye on the ball,” Scootaloo said with a nod, thrusting her hooves into the blue jelly. “Ooh, it’s cool.”
“Okay, now think,” the Doctor urged. “Focus on everything you know about where you want us to go. Sights, sounds, smells, everything!”
Scootaloo clenched her eyes tight and willed herself to remember her Aunt’s story.





~I (said Aunt Holiday, if she could still be called that) am not your mother’s sister. No don’t interrupt— it’s a very complicated story, and you need to hear it all to understand.
 It was a long, long time ago when your father and I first met. I was still living in Vanhoover. Do you remember Vanhoover, Eurus? No, I suppose you wouldn't. It wasn’t Canterlot. It wasn't even Manehattan. But it had a university, and that was what mattered to me.
 (Ponyville didn't have a university, and Scootaloo had always had an ugly feeling in her chest about why that life had been abandoned. (But she didn't admit it, even to herself))
I wish I could have shown you the university, Scootie. It was beautiful and icy-cold, with pillars of sculpted stone, so white and shining that you could mistake it for the ancient kingdoms of the Pegasi. That was my subject there. Ancient Pegasus history. It was a good job, and I enjoyed it tremendously (She always loved talking about the things she loved
(She never talked about Scootaloo’s father)).
And then one day, he came into my life. A gorgeous pegasus, with his coat as dark as wine and his golden mane curled… I swear, he looked like one of the statues in my study brought to life
 (When she was young, Scootaloo had read the story of the artist Pigment and his sculpture, Galilee. She never liked it much. The artist wanted the one thing that he could never have and ignored everything else. (That was the day they were Cutie Mark Crusader Art Thieves (Scootaloo took along a hammer))). 
He had a jaw like rock and eyes like pools of starlight, shimmering and distant. Do you believe in love at first sight? No? Then you are wiser than I was. Some days I wish that I had never met him. That I had just stayed among my old statues and relics of ancient times, where it was safe. Maybe then I wouldn't have gotten so badly hurt…~





There was a strange grumbling from deep within the TARDIS, like a dyspeptic old mare, followed up by a disgruntled wheezing. The Doctor frowned and tapped a monitor gently. “She's never made that sound before,” Ditzy said, furrowing her brow at the Time Rotor, which was sparking erratically. “Is she sick?”
The Doctor hissed through his teeth. “Hope not. If she is, then getting where we want is the least of our worries.”
“Wait, TARDISes can get sick? Really?”
“Sort of. It's quite nasty, really, especially if she needs to, ah, toss up. Some rooms. And possibly inhabitants.”
Ditzy paled. “Don't worry! I'm sure it isn't that. Mostly sure. Actually, I think the old girl seems… confused, more than anything. Check the coordinates over on the far console, read ‘em out.”
The pegasus nodded once, then dashed to a panel next to the concentrating orange mare. “Vanhoover, 991 Celestial Era,” she said.
“And this one purports to be… Skyzantium, 1273 Pre-Unification, only three years before the first Hearth’s Warming.”
“So which is it?” Ditzy asked, frowning.
There was a dull, oleaginous sputtering that died out after several seconds. “We’re about to find out,” the Doctor said quietly. “We’ve landed.”
Scootaloo gasped as she pulled back from the psychic goo panel. “Whoa. Okay. That was… a thing that happened.”
She glanced at the two older ponies. Ditzy looked anxiously back at her. The Doctor was unreadable, but his usual smile had been wiped from his face. “Scootaloo,” he said slowly, “Where exactly were you trying to go?”
The orange mare frowned, her brow clouding. “Vanhoover. Why, where are we? What's going on?”
“There was some kind of… glitch,” Ditzy said hesitantly. “We can try again!”
The Doctor hemmed at this. “Not right away,” he corrected. “The TARDIS needs a bit of time to recover. Old girl just tried to materialize in two different places and times at once, that's no good at all.”
Scootaloo stared, blank-faced and uncomprehending. Ditzy winced. “It's not your fault, Scoots. Well, mostly not your fault. Did you think about two things at the same time? Never mind. The point is, either we’re in Vanhoover or in an ancient pegasus city before unification.”
“We’re what?”
“Lost,” the Doctor replied shortly, pulling down on a lever. The faint humming of the impossible engines faded to a low gurgle. “And likely to stay that way, until the TARDIS gets herself fixed up. Which will be… well, it's going to be a while, to put things mildly. The mercury all but boiled in its chamber, and the navigation system’s knackered.”
“More so than usual?” Ditzy teased.
The Time Lord made a face. “ Yes, yes, ha ha. But yeah, I think I've started to recall just why I stopped using that interface.”
The two mares made eye contact that spoke volumes. The Doctor coughed awkwardly. “Anyway. I suppose the first thing we ought to do is take a peek outside, see where and when we are.” He pushed up on the switch that controlled the doors, and they promptly swung outwards. “Allons-y,” he chirped, trotting out the door.
“Wait,” Scootaloo said. “If we’re in a pegasus city, that means—”
She was interrupted by a loud yelp, and suddenly a brown tail swished downward as the Doctor tumbled through the clouds.




Rainbow raised her hoof for the third time in five minutes. For the third time, it fell back to the ground. The blue mare sighed deeply, then sat heavily down in the dirt, her eyes still fixed on the door in front of her.
What's the matter with me? I’m Rainbow Miriam freakin’ Danger Dash! I beat up monsters every week and defy death every day! This is NOT the most dangerous thing I’ve ever done!
Her shoulders slumped. You didn't get to have the Element of Honesty as a marefriend and not learn to recognize when you were lying to yourself. Applejack was about the best thing that had ever happened to her. Maybe not as good as her parents, but better than Tank. Scootaloo was up there, too. They were all in the Medal of Excellence acceptance speech she had written in case she ever needed it.
Anyway.
Dating Applejack was probably the best choice she had ever made. For one thing, there was the cider, but even that was a distant second to the emotional connection they had developed. Yeah, sometimes they fought. Sometimes they did stupid stuff. Sometimes they yelled loud enough to make apples fall off trees. But after the storm came the gentle rain, when all the noise and posturing and stubbornness had washed away and they could just talk. And sometimes cry. 
Okay, usually cry. But mostly it was Applejack. 
That was a lie. 
She had told Applejack stuff that she hadn't ever told anypony else. Not Dad, or Fluttershy, not even Tank. Applejack took so much off Dash’s chest. She made her more thoughtful, more stable, more… well, honest.
But sometimes, Dash hated dating Applejack. Take now, for instance. The farmer had become part of her brain, like a second conscience, nagging at her with that disappointed look in her eyes that made the pegasus’s heart shrivel like a raisin. Ya gotta tell her, sugarcube. Tell her th’ truth.
Well. Too late for that now. But she had to do something. Probably something stupid, but what the Tartarus else was new. Dash picked up her hoof and rapped at the door. Silence. Rainbow’s brow creased. She knocked again, louder. There were lights on inside. Somepony had to be home. After what felt like an eternity, the door swung open.
The thing that struck Dash first was the eyes. Red and puffy, and even more wet and unfocused than usual, which was saying something. Her muzzle was coated in dried mucus. Her mane looked like it had been hit by a hurricane, even more so than usual. Obviously, Holiday was in a bad way. Dash quickly racked her brains for something comforting to say.
“Celestia, Holiday, you look like horse apples.”
Nice one, Crash.
Scootaloo’s auntie, however, didn't seem terribly bothered. Or maybe she didn't notice. She was distracted even at the best of times, and she really didn't look to be at her most aware right now. “Oh… good evening, Rainbow. You're here about Scootaloo.”
Dash flinched. “Yeah. I… can I come in?”
The other hesitated. “I suppose so. We do need to talk, don't we…”
Dash waited for a long moment. Holiday didn't move. “Uh, hey? Holliday?”
“Oh! Excuse me,” she replied, quickly stepping away from the door.
Dash slowly trotted in, closing the door behind her. She took a deep breath, opened her mouth, and, “I’m sorry!”
Rainbow’s eyes shot open. Holliday was staring at her in bewilderment. “You’re what?” they asked simultaneously.




The Doctor scarcely had time to think. It was exactly like thinking that there was one more step on the stairs than there really was, that same sudden low, intestinal panic like a pit in the bottom of one’s stomach. Except his hoof was not about to hit the landing. He was about to splat on the ground, somewhere far below. Suddenly, however, there was a sharp pain, and he found himself hauled bodily back into the TARDIS, tail-first.
Ditzy sprawled head over hooves backward, her husband landing with a pained grunt on her chest. “Ow,” she said, gazing up at the ceiling.
“...Sorry,” the Doctor muttered, rising to his hooves. “Should have thought that one through.”
“Well, I guess that tells us where we are, anyway,” Scootaloo said, scuffing the tile floor with a hoof.
“Not what you were aiming for?” Ditzy guessed.
The Doctor wrinkled his muzzle up, rising to his hooves again. “But this is better, surely? I mean, Vanhoover is still around, you can go whenever you like, but a trip to a long-gone city, one of your aunt’s principal areas of expertise at that, I mean, that's brilliant.”
Scootaloo stared back, her eyes dead and grey. “Yeah. Sure. Great. Woo-hoo, go Skyzantine Empire.”
Ditzy studied the orange mare for a long moment. “Doctor. About how long will the TARDIS take to fix herself?”
The tan stallion frowned thoughtfully. “Twenty hours, at least. Maybe a bit more. Less, if you can find a bit of mercury at all, but that's pretty unlikely this high up, especially in this time period.”
“Mercury. Alright, anything else?”
“In Skyzantium? Doubt it. Very military society, took notes from Minotaur culture but with more emphasis on technology, very warlike and isolationist. They probably won't bother you too much if you say that you're from, uh, Thermoponi or something. They've a vague view of foreign ponies, and any faux pas you might make will be explained by that.”
Scootaloo nodded. “Thermoponi is kinda close, though. Roan might be better.”
“Alright,” Ditzy replied cheerfully. “Look for mercury, pretend to be from another city, try to keep out of trouble. Come on, Scootaloo, let's you and I go exploring.”
The Doctor frowned. “What about me?” he asked plaintively.
Ditzy cocked her head. “Oh, right. The pie is in the fridge, second shelf up, on the left. It's behind the cottage cheese. See you later, Pocket!” And with Scootaloo close at her tail, she sauntered out of the room and onto the clouds.
The Doctor stared after her with a vague smile on his face as the door closed. The console let out a gurgling wheeze. It sounded oddly like a chuckle. The Time Lord’s face twisted. “Oh, shut up,” he muttered, stomping off toward the engine room.
Once the doors had closed behind him, the console let out another noise. The chuckle was darker this time.




Sgt. Siege Warfare did not live up to his name. From the first, it was clear that he lacked any sense of patience or stoicism, a great shame for his father. Siege was constantly jittering and fidgeting, fiddling with bits of cloud and machinery. It was thought by many that the colt had no sense of the military mind. They would be only partly right. True, he had no idea of strategy, nor tactics. Neither was he very good at following orders, or even giving them. What he did have was a sense of camaraderie and very good instincts. Of that much, at least, his father was proud.
Right now, every instinct that he had was screaming the same thing that they had been screaming for the past two weeks; stay very still and don't call attention to yourself. Ever since the new scientific advisor had arrived, every single animal instinct he possessed had begun to plead with him to run and hide in a cloud bank for the next twenty years. He had done his very best to control his fidgeting ever since. It was terribly easy when you were too frightened to move.
The odd thing was, she really hadn't done anything to warrant the unbridled terror that had been aroused in him. She really hadn't done much of anything, full stop. Silver Pallas was, in fact, scrupulously orderly and totally dull. About the only unusual thing about her was the silver bracelet that she always wore on her left forehoof. Sure, she had an air of superiority to her, but then, what officer didn't? But there was more to it than just that. He knew it was a bad idea to annoy, for instance, Propraetor Cyclone. It was a terrible idea to annoy Commander Hurricane. To annoy Lieutenant Pallas, however, would be a fatal mistake.
“Warfare.”
Siege snapped to attention. Coprus. How long had she been asking for him? She still wasn't looking at him, but that was hardly an indicator. She was always focused only on her personal projects, such as the cloud tablet mold that she was currently etching. This was, of course, ordered by the war council, and should never be questioned, upon pain of reassignment to the frozen Central Station. Any soldier who attempted to confirm these orders had been met with sudden, unexpected reassignment to the capital. Oh, wait, he was meant to… “Yes, ma’am?”
The officer raised an eyebrow, but made no other gesture of censure. “We will be receiving inspection later today. See to it that our efforts are shown in the best possible light.”
“Ma’am. Would that include your…” he trailed off. “Affairs?”
The silver mare’s feathers ruffled ever so slightly. “That,” she snipped, “is not quite prepared yet. Soon, but not yet. Although…”
The sudden glint in her violet eyes made Siege take a step backwards. “Warfare. Be present at twenty-two hundred. There will be a living test tonight, and your assistance will be required.”
There was a sudden sensation like cessation of susurration. “Yes, ma’am,” Siege said dully. Slowly, he trotted from the room. It took him a few moments to realize what he was feeling. It was resignation.




“Silver Pallas” registered his departure in the same way that one might notice a leaf drifting by in the wind. She had far more pressing concerns. More interesting, too. Her expression was thoughtful and calm as she lifted the tablet to scrutinize it more closely. Though any soldier present would see only nonsensical raised lines and circles and things, a pony from the far-flung future would see something recognizable as the circuitry of a computer chip, but massive. The silver pegasus tapped it a few times and the cloud grew darker, hissing and crackling with pent-up electric fury. Watching the crude chip spit sparks, the technician did something that nopony, especially not Siege Warfare, would ever have expected.
The Rani smiled.




Scootaloo stopped in surprise as her hooves hit the clouds. “Huh.”
“What's wrong?”
“It's warmer than I thought it would be. Y’know, Windigoes and everything.”
The weather was indeed a bit chilly, though the sun beat fiercely overhead. The breeze through the streets was crisp, but not cutting, and it made the looser areas of ground disperse into fluff, drifting away through the bright blue sky. Ditzy breathed in for a long moment, filling her lungs with the cool, thin air. “I think it probably isn't winter yet. Late summer, early autumn, in which case it really is pretty chilly.” She fluttered her wings absently as she glanced around. The architecture, the passers by, the very atmosphere was impossibly entrancing.
Then she caught Scootaloo staring at her and quickly dropped back to the ground. “So, why are we here?”
The younger mare cocked her head. “TARDIS malfunction, remember? You were there.”
Ditzy shook her head. “The TARDIS was confused. Sentient time machines don't get confused. What were you thinking about, Scootaloo?”
The orange pegasus glanced away. “Aunt Holiday told me a story.”
Ditzy opened her mouth to press further, but the younger mare was already quickly striding down the street, and the mailmare had to gallop to keep her young charge from being lost in the crowd.
Neither of them noticed the silver-coated mare, her golden mane tied back in a knot, as her lilac eyes tracked them across the agora. Neither did they notice the violet stallion whose golden eyes stayed fixed on the TARDIS.
Targets acquired.