//------------------------------// // G7.01: Downstream // Story: Message in a Bottle // by Starscribe //------------------------------// Lucky Break worked for a year. It was a good thing that time moved differently on the inside, or else she might very well return to an Equestria that had already made important movement without her. More importantly, she was inches away from being able to see Flurry Heart again. Her friend had already endured a long time with whatever Princess Celestia had done to her. Lucky didn’t intend to keep her waiting that long. Still, she could take solace in the work. There were many dead ponies waiting to return to Equestria—more than the ones she’d come to help. She wanted to help them all, but knew that wasn’t her place. Harmony had already stepped in to stop her from sending some of them back, insisting that the Equestrian level of development could only support a population so high. Discord had chosen as many of his supporters as he could without overtaxing the infrastructure. “Until the other districts can be terraformed and restored to organic habitability.” The timeline for that was depressingly long, though. We’ll have to figure something out way sooner than that. Equestria would soon be giving up any semblance of obedience to the “natural” cycle of birth and death. It would become an advanced society—though the process was likely to take time. How much time wasn’t her business, really. The Equestrians were their own civilization, far more enduring than the early twig of Earth she’d been snapped from. They would make their own decisions. And we’ll make ours. Eventually, Lucky Break found her way back to where she had started, at an apple and pear orchard located in a rural section of Equus’s Upstream. As she emerged onto the path, she found the trees looking much the worse for wear. With the exception of the grove right beside the house, it looked like the ordered rows had been swallowed by woodland, growing wild and untamed. The trees were being slowly strangled by hardier, more natural species. The farmhouse itself had changed—it was now connected to the barn, which had been transformed into several attached dwellings with their own entrances. Instead of old wood, most of the new construction were standard Hab-Fab segments, which was rather interesting considering Forerunner wasn’t here. There were also a few rolls of standard solar mats, and a large transmission antenna. Of course, the most dramatic change wasn’t any of that—but the gigantic cloud hovering over where the orchard had been largest. One look at it, and Lucky understood why it had transformed so quickly into a terrifying forest. It was twice the size as Stormshire’s weather factory had been, with a few signs of human designs connected here or there. Human pipes instead of pony-made clay ones, for instance. Lucky strode up to the door as bravely as she could—but there was no reason to expect suspicion from these ponies. They wouldn’t be like those who had been living upstream for decades or even centuries while they waited for still-living family members. She wouldn’t have to overcome the common-sense truth that there was no way to travel between worlds and the only thing to do was wait. Lucky knocked, and her eyes widened as she saw the pony standing there. A wiry pegasus stallion, with a dark coat and white mane. “Lucky? Lucky, it’s so good to see you!” He reached out, and embraced her like an old friend. Lucky stiffened a little, but not much. Ponies were typically more physically affectionate than humans, and she was long used to that, even if this pony was a total stranger to her mind. “The others are still on shift, but maybe I could put some tea on for you.” He stepped to the side. “Do you drink tea? I honestly can’t remember.” His voice wasn’t familiar exactly—but his dictation was. Like someone transformed a pony I knew. Who would do that? That math was simple enough. “You’re… Martin, aren’t you?” She followed him through the open door. “That cutie mark is some… fancy science thing.” “Good guess!” he said, not turning around or stopping for her. He was wearing a vest with a few bits of electronics stuck in the pockets—stray wires, some tools—but no pants. “If it wasn’t for Lightning Dust more of us probably would’ve made the switch back to being human—this whole world isn’t real anyway, so there’s no sense being something you don’t like.” The kitchen had been upgraded with the typical array of human conveniences, though it still had a rustic look. Like they’d been progressively updating it one day at a time, grafting more of their human lives onto the old pony appliances. Martin filled a kettle with water and set it to boil in the induction heater like a pro, not struggling to hold anything with his hooves like the Martin she remembered. No trace of cybernetic claws here, either. “You decided to be male again, but not human.” He nodded. “I am a little disappointed I never got the chance to experience what Melody did… but it was probably for the best. If I’d had a baby, it certainly would’ve been killed when I read Selene’s memories.” The kettle made a cheerful dinging sound, and Martin removed it, pouring it out into a few quaint porcelain glasses. “Weren’t you biosex male too?” “James Irwin was.” Lucky shifted on her hooves, pawing at the ground. “But I don’t feel like I need to go back to being him.” She spread her wings, tapping the side of her horn with one hoof. “That me is growing in Othar right now—from generation one. I’m not sure if I ever told you about that. But by now, changing back would just be going through the same misery I did all over again.” Martin shrugged, offering her a steaming cup. “You do you, Princess. I’m not suggesting there’s a way you ought to do things. If anything, these ponies seem matriarchal. If our diplomacy goes through an Alicorn princess, then we won’t seem so strange even if we’re different in all the important ways.” Lucky lifted the cup in her magic—well, magic was what it was called. And in here, the limits of the physical world didn’t apply, so it might as well be. Outside there were much stricter requirements, the least of which would be her own body. But all of her experience was within the “simulated” space that was Upstream, so she didn’t know what those would be like yet. At least she could use it simple enough. Just pretend she had a hand there, and move it. She didn’t spill her tea—not like she’d done plenty of times while on her mission from Discord. “So what has everyone been up to all this time? Beyond… building this place. Please tell me you didn’t steal real parts to build a virtual house.” “We used the designs,” Martin corrected. “And Forerunner didn’t mind sending them. You can call him if you want—Harmony got a link set up about three months back. There’s still a difference in execution speed, though—he takes a few days to answer our questions. So it’s not like things were back in Othar.” That was a terrifying thought. If their minds were running on some kind of computer while upstream, how powerful was Equus? More powerful than the now-ancient Neptune Brain, that was for sure. We’re children to these people. “I was going to ask you about that,” Martin said, after a few more moments of awkward silence between them. “This link we’ve got to Othar, there’s no reason we couldn’t use it more. It wouldn’t take much to build a… a room, say, which we could step into and slow down to the same speed as people living in the universe outside. That way people in here and people out there can collaborate in real time, without sacrificing the advantages of living here.” “Uh…” Lucky took a deep breath. “Martin, I’m bringing us all back. It’s almost sunrise, just like I promised. Othar is waiting for us.” Well, for you. Lucky intended to take a brief detour before she went back to Othar. She needed to see Flurry Heart. “Well…” Martin looked away from her, walking back to the sink to pour another glass of tea. “The more I think about it, the more I realize that the advantages of physical existence are greatly outweighed by the opportunities provided by compressed time. My work doesn’t require interaction with the outside, except for observatory hours. That could be wired in super easy. If anything I would be able to contribute more this way, since even if I only had daily meetings I could get in a year of work.” There were footsteps from down the hall—a set of two footsteps, instead of four. “Oh, you’re back. Martin’s giving you his spiel, eh? I hope it came out better than he rehearsed.” Perez sounded almost unchanged from what Lucky remembered, unlike Martin. But as she turned to look, the one standing in the doorway was nothing like Lucky remembered. Tall, olive-skinned, black haired, and without the constant spite that had become common after Olivia’s death. He wore more-or-less ordinary clothes, with a leather work-belt and tools. Martin stomped one hoof, obviously frustrated at Lucky’s lack of response. She turned back. “Did you ask Major Fischer about this? What does she think?” “She thinks she’s done being in command,” Perez said, without bitterness. “She could’ve done better than I did. Or you. If Olivia hadn’t gotten herself martyred, we might have been able to accomplish the same mission without losing Williams. Poor bastard.” He knocked twice on the wall with his knuckles. How is he standing in here? Aren’t humans supposed to be bigger than that? Lucky always felt so short compared to Forerunner’s synthsleeve. Then again, scale is just a variable. I would rather be shorter than not be able to live with my friends. “You can have this argument later!” Martin finally exclaimed. “You should say it’s okay, Lucky. It’ll be great for Othar.” Lucky set down her empty teacup. She could still feel Perez’s eyes on her—obviously that wasn’t over either. But he could wait a few seconds. “Do you know what I’ve been doing for the last year, Martin?” She didn’t wait for his answer. “I’ve been sending Discord’s allies back to Equus—all the ponies he made promises to. They taught me something—Harmony is always trying to lead people closer to it. There was a time long ago when Harmony was just one computer, and most of the citizens of Equus lived on the outside. They made it big enough for everyone, if you counted all the space stations and stuff that are all gone now. There’s like, maybe a billion people in all who didn’t get hoovered up and join the conflux one step at a time. “Back when I was studying Equestrian history, it confused me a little because of just how much everypony I read about seemed to be like the famous ponies of today. I wondered if the myths had been constructed to glorify Equestria’s current rulers, like some Earth despots used to do. It wasn’t that at all—turns out there were just so few people that they kept getting cycled through over and over. Most of those billions I talked about don’t even want to be physical anymore, they just don’t want to give up their…” She struggled for the right word. So many of these concepts lacked the framework to be properly expressed in English. “Individuality,” is what she settled on, even though it wasn’t right. Harmony’s minds were still individuals in the ways she understood, they just weren’t in others. “What you’re asking for sounds like the first step to leaving us. I won’t order you to stay, but I’ll ask. Othar needs everyone with experience. Please come back with us, and stay at least one lifetime’s worth before you decide to stay up here.” Martin mumbled something noncommittal, then looked away. Not that I could force you even if I wanted to. Harmony doesn’t care about our command structure. She turned to Perez next. “I’m sorry about Williams. I know how shitty it seemed—but I hope you realize that killing Twilight’s brother right in front of her would’ve… Well, Alicorns do more damage than cannonballs.” Perez nodded. “I don’t question what you did during the battle—not anymore. I question what we were doing there in the first place.” He walked casually past Martin, resting one hand on the counter. He still seemed enormously tall, but not gigantic. He could use all the furniture without stooping the way Forerunner had in Othar. “I don’t blame you, Lucky. I used to—but that was small of me. You made so many simple strategic mistakes—starting with how much of a fucking rush you were in all the time. Ponies were obviously shit at finding us, why were we always running? A good op can take years of intelligence. That was what Olivia was planning. Working from the periphery, inserting ourselves into the underground, rallying support…” “You mean you lied to me.” Lucky felt herself stiffening a little as she said it, her voice drifting into the accusatory. “When I asked what you were planning, and you didn’t tell me any of that…” Perez nodded, without a trace of shame. Or anger—he still looked calm. “Civilians like you don’t have a clue how to manage a war. You think it’s all about murdering people—it isn’t. Those kinds of wars are ancient history, kid. These days, it’s about information. You only push where you need to, exactly the right amount. Olivia knew that. With her in charge, we could’ve got the same result without the near-total casualties we suffered.” Martin looked away from them, muttering something as he slipped away down the hall past Perez. Lucky couldn’t really blame him. “Forerunner didn’t seem to think so.” Perez nodded. “And that’s who I blame. Not you—you were just the computer’s puppet. Forerunner AI—they’re not as good at the long game as we think they are. It’s a gradient thing—Mogyla can explain it. They hate intermediate steps that lower their odds, even if they open up a better outcome in the process. Forerunner did its dark arithmetic, and decided it liked your direct approach better than Olivia’s patient approach. It’s the one who deserves the fucking court-martial over Williams.” Lucky didn’t know what to say to that. So she didn’t try. “Does that mean you aren’t going to cause trouble when we go back to Othar? I realize we’re immortal now, but I won’t bring you if you’re going to try and shoot me.” Perez nodded, as casually as he had before. “There’s a reason the ISMU existed in the first place, Lucky. So people like Olivia and I could protect well-meaning idiots like you from yourselves. Besides—now that Olivia’s retired, you’re going to need someone to run the damn thing. If nothing else, last year I proved for you that my team can get shit done. We’ll… need some reinforcement. Bring Lei back on duty, maybe think about recruiting… but we’ll still be able to do that.” He raised a hand before she could speak. “Don’t give me any bullshit that you don’t need us. Your type always talks like that. Then when our budget is cut in half you wonder why we can’t save the world for you.” “I wasn’t going to say that,” Lucky said. “Actually, I was going to ask if you would object to being a pony again.” Perez raised an eyebrow. “Why should I go back to that?” “Because I already have a mission for you. You’ll make a lousy Harriet Tubman if you look like a space alien.” “Maybe not a pony,” Perez answered, after a thoughtful silence. “But I’ve heard good things about dragons. Always armored, fire breathing, hands. That’s the shit.” “I’ll see what I can do.” Lucky didn’t wait for the weather shift to be over. It wouldn’t have been terribly detrimental—in terms of time on the outside, one more day would hardly even be noticed. But considering this place was about to be abandoned again, Lucky couldn’t entirely control her curiosity. She wanted to get a good look at what the dead members of the Pioneering Society had been able to achieve. Plenty of the names on Discord’s list had lived in the clouds, so it wasn’t as though she’d forgotten how to fly during her trek. The closer she got to the clouds, the more impressed she was of what they’d done. I always knew Lightning Dust understood weather magic. But this is… really impressive. That made her sad as she landed, tucking her wings against her side and glaring up at the splayed solar mat. This is what we could’ve been doing if we had made peaceful first contact. This is what our colony could’ve been like without the quarantine. But the quarantine was over, and the ones who had attacked ponies were all dead. So was the pony who had sworn to kill her. Maybe they could all just forget about the past and move on. So long as we never go back to Dodge Junction. Those ponies probably had their fill of us for a lifetime. Lucky stepped into the weather factory, and was a little surprised to see so many new ponies. She attracted glares as she stepped through the empty locker room onto the factory floor, though nopony dared try and stop her. She was an Alicorn. Even if many of the ponies she spoke with in here understood on some level that being an Alicorn was one of many possible permissions flags, most of them had come from Equestria, and that bias was hard to break. She saw a few familiar faces working the machinery—Mogyla was there, supervising a few jury-rigged motors connected to a field-programmable array. He only nodded as she passed, apparently far too engrossed with his work to rise. She didn’t see either of the ponies she’d come for, at least not until she reached the office. Lightning Dust wasn’t the one busily typing, as she had hoped. Instead, she saw Olivia. Well, someone like Olivia. Just as the others had changed themselves, Olivia had changed too. She no longer looked like a filly, but an ordinary pegasus adult, athletic and sleek. Not the sort of pony who spent most of her day in an office. She looked a little nervous as Lucky entered, though she was already sitting down and had nothing to drop. Instead she sat back in her chair, watching as though she expected an unpleasant surprise any second. “You came back,” she said. “Has it been a year already? It doesn’t feel like so long.” “Yeah,” Lucky answered. “I think so.” She sat down on her haunches across from the desk, taking in the room. Most of what she saw looked like it could’ve belonged in any Equestrian weather office. There were awards for efficiency, group photos with the factory staff, that kind of thing. Then she saw the nameplate. “Where’s my mom? You sitting in for her today?” “For the last two weeks,” Olivia said, without malice. If anything, she sounded frustrated, maybe a little nervous. “Every day I expect her to come walking back in here, but the longer I wait the less that seems likely. I guess you must have sent her back before the rest of us.” “I… had nothing to do with it,” Lucky muttered, frowning to herself. “There’s probably a spell I could use to find her.” But she didn’t look it up—didn’t query Harmony or try to cast it. For now, she just watched Olivia. “Sergeant Perez says you’re retired.” “He’s right. It’s not like I don’t think there’s still important work to do—but I’m done. Forerunner chose your way. Whether it made the right or wrong choice, I can’t say. It isn’t my problem to solve anymore.” It wasn’t exactly happy news, but she couldn’t argue with it. Forerunner had rejected Olivia’s strategies once she died, and chose Lucky’s instead. She imagined she might’ve felt similar frustrations if she were in Olivia’s place. “So that means you’re going to stay here? Life is better in virtual reality?” “No!” Olivia slapped the table with a contemptuous hoof. “Othar is a dreary, dreadful place. It should be a tropical paradise… and we can make it one, with a factory half as good as this. Lightning Dust really knows her shit. She should’ve made it at least to divisional headquarters, maybe even regional. But someone’s got to run the day-to-day.” She leaned back in her chair. “It’s not the hardest thing I’ve done. But it’s important work. It provides a tangible benefit. Most importantly, nobody dies. Forerunner thinks you’re better at those decisions, so by all means. You be governor. I’ll just make the weather. Out there, where it matters.” Lucky hesitated for a few seconds. “You know that…” The only reason pegasus ponies have to do that is Discord sabotaged Equestria’s environmental subsystem. Now that he’s gone we could repair it. But she just shrugged. Olivia wasn’t the only pony who derived personal satisfaction from their work in weather. Turning that system back on now would erase an entire sector of Equestrian culture. We can make sure it still works in the newly terraformed sections. No reason people can’t do more work because they want to. Even she had used a manual keyboard, though dictation technology was perfect. There was satisfaction to be had in doing things personally. Making sure they got done right. “That sounds great. I’ve been… I’ve learned that slavery is more widespread on Equestria’s periphery than I knew. Lots of Discord’s friends were… well, that doesn’t matter. Point is, I think I know where Othar can get lots of willing people. Those places don’t have weatherponies either, but if they did, we might be able to build our first satellite cities. I have a feeling Equestria isn’t going to want us living in their territory after assassinating their princess.” Olivia smiled. “Sounds like a fine job to me. Just so long as I don’t have to be the one fighting the slavers, and I can run things my own way. Or… Lightning Dust’s way, probably. Now that there’s no war for survival—I leave the other decisions to you.” There was no resentment in her voice, at least not that Lucky could hear. It was simple confidence, contentment with her choice. Lucky could accept that. “In that case, I’ll bring us back to Othar tonight, once you’re done with your shift. You’ll have to pick someone else to run your sim-weather factory in the meantime.” Olivia shrugged. “It was really just about the practice. We always knew it was just something to do. But there are plenty of ponies from Everton working here now. I’ll ask Sky Drop to take over for us.” And she did send them back that night, exactly as she suggested. Even Martin, who muttered frustration about it the whole way, but eventually agreed to return despite protest. Her doorway opened onto Othar’s docks, which were actually a submerged corridor made of transparent composite about thirty meters down. It looked like she’d opened a passage down a corridor that wasn’t there, and they came wandering out. Albeit slowly, as Equus’s systems created new bodies for them with their passage. Lucky brought up the rear, leaving the doorway open behind her as she always did. She wasn’t quite done yet, after all. As they emerged into the corridor, Lei and a small group of ponies came walking down the hall from the docking port—from the Cyclops, probably. Lei just stared, while the ponies took one look at Lucky and dropped into a bow. “You’re back from Equestria,” she said, staring at the still-glowing opening in the air. Instead of transparent composite, the view to the modified farm house was still there, surrounded by its gloomy woods. “And made some new friends. Dragon, and… handsome, and…” “I’m Martin, actually,” he corrected, apparently ignoring the implication. “And this is Diego. I don’t know how he convinced Lucky to let him be a dragon.” “It’s true,” Perez said, not reacting to the use of his first name. But then, Lucky had seen that just about everyone who had been stranded was on first name terms by now. The use of rank and procedure had obviously not survived a year in the “afterlife.” “I hope you’re ready for active duty again, Lei. That graft has got to be fucking done by now. We lost Williams… I’m going to need you to take his place.” Lucky stepped back through the open doorway, feeling the slight buzz of energy. I really, really hope that isn’t killing me every time I do it. “I’ll be back,” she said, mostly addressing Olivia even though she realized the pegasus no longer wanted to be in charge. “I’m not sure I want to bring our friends through this thing, since they’re not dead. Don’t shoot down any Equestrian airships, please. In fact just don’t shoot down anything unless it shoots you first.” Her horn glowed, and she closed the doorway. That left her alone on the edge of the farmhouse, now empty. “Harmony, are you there?” An artificial pony appeared beside her with a faint flash and barely any sound. “Always.” “What happened to Lightning Dust?” “Returned Downstream via medical intervention on that side.” Lucky sighed, but wasn’t surprised exactly. It’s probably worth remembering that we don’t have to be dead to visit here. I wonder how easy it would be to come here in dreams like Luna does. “Could you do me a favor?” No response. “Could you make sure this house is still here? I have a feeling Martin will be back here soon. I don’t want it to be all run-down and crappy. As a matter of fact you might as well just make this place the spawn for any of my crew who die in the future.” “That decision is theirs to make, not yours. We will offer it when they arrive regardless.” “Thank you.” It was time for one last spell. She’d been living upstream for too long. She was probably too used to its never-ending supply of magic, its perfect food and flexible time. If she stayed for too much longer, she might end up won over to it like Martin, and not want to leave. Lucky Break had memorized quite a few Equestrian coordinates during her time working for Discord. She knew of at least two parts of the palace she could visit with ease—and she picked the simpler of them. She opened a doorway into the throne room, and stepped through. Before she could second-guess herself, she closed the doorway behind her. The effect was instantaneous. She felt momentarily frozen, as though her body was catching up with being on the outside again. The weight of gravity dragged her back down a moment later, as the glow faded from her flesh. The inexhaustible magic ended. Lucky realized then that she probably couldn’t open a doorway back, even if she wanted to. Discord hadn’t been exaggerating when he suggested her lack of experience would be a limiter once she got here. Lucky had seen the throne room in pictures, though once Celestia proclaimed her desire to see her killed, she hadn’t ever expected to visit in person. There were many guards here—at least two dozen. Many of them were staring at her in fear and horror—maybe they’d been expecting an attack, but had no way to quantify an antagonistic Alicorn in terms of their worldview. She didn’t intend to stay long. It was a beautiful throne room, by all accounts. The throne itself was gold and adorned with jewels, and placed on a living fountain of clear water. The largest of the chairs was empty, though—Princess Luna sat on one of the smaller seats, and Cadance on the other. She saw no sign of a revived Celestia, or what might’ve become of Flurry Heart. “Out of her way,” Princess Luna ordered from the throne, and at her command the guards scattered, lowering their pikes. She walked past a row of wary soldiers, looking like they were each competing to scowl at her with the most disapproval. But the princesses showed no signs of anger she could see. They remained placidly on their thrones until Lucky stood before them, lowering her head in a polite nod of respect. Not a bow—Lucky was done bowing to greater powers. “My name is Lucky Break—I have come to initiate formal contact with Equestria in the name of the Stellar Pioneering Society. We come in peace.” What else was she supposed to say? She wasn’t the one they’d trained for this. “You’re the one my daughter is waiting for,” said Princess Cadance, when the pomp and ceremony was over and the agreements of mutual non-aggression had been signed. Cadance did not sound very much like the pony Lucky had heard at a great distance during official ceremonies and festivals in the Crystal Empire. She sounded weary, overcome, and constantly fighting tears. A pony who was a few steps from a cliff. “What I cannot determine was how a pony like you had been living in my city for so long. Ponies of talent are meant to be gathered, so that their growth can be… encouraged in more positive directions.” “We knew of her,” Princess Luna said, offhand. There had never been hostility from her, not at any point during the brief meeting. But then, neither side had been asking for much. Mutual assurances not to attack or even visit the other without permission was all Lucky had wanted, and Luna had been happy enough to give it. Well, that and her ponies returned. “I briefly glanced at her university application. A promising talent. But we seldom encounter translators who went on to shake the world.” Cadance ignored that answer. “Flurry Heart has not left her room since she was…” Cadance shivered, looking away. “Since she escaped. She will see nopony, not even her father and me. I think she plans on leaving with you.” There was a danger in that voice—like the growl of a mother bear, ready to spring in defense of her cubs. But Lucky could hardly take her side. Princess Cadance had not tried to fight Celestia to free her daughter. Not like Lucky herself had fought. It was easy to imagine how that would look to the young princess. “Will you allow her?” That apparently wasn’t the response Cadance expected. She sat back in her chair, frowning deeply. There was a long, awkward silence, and nopony else in the room to break it. Princess Twilight was not here—neither were any of the guards. The throne room was a gigantic space for three ponies, even when they were Alicorns. A lonely, cold space. “Perhaps,” Cadance eventually answered. “If she agrees to return to the Crystal Empire every solstice… and consents to bring a detachment of house guards. Assuming you will allow that.” Unlike the Princess of Love, Lucky didn’t have to think about it. She was the governor, and she was certain Forerunner would see the wisdom of her choice. “I will.” “Then you should see her.” Cadance turned away, voice bitter and dejected. “She obviously wants her space, and needs the love of somepony other than her parents.” “One who has been so damaged cannot be easily healed,” Princess Luna muttered. “She did not suffer as long as some, but I fear for her. You shouldn’t bring her if you don’t have the means to care for her. I may… wish to see your city, as you have seen ours.” Lucky nodded. “That’s fine, so long as you radio ahead first. We have a lot of people who are afraid of Alicorns after… after what happened.” She left, escorted through the palace by a frightened-looking guard. Lucky did not go quickly—the more she heard about Flurry Heart, the more afraid she was about what she was going to find. A palace filled with art and evidence of many years of history could not interest her the way she knew it should’ve. What had seemed to matter before just didn’t. I wish I could’ve done this sooner. But Perez had been right about one thing—rushing in to perform a rescue would not have improved their odds. I wasn’t even in charge back then. Could I have made a difference if I flew off with Lightning Dust and tried to set her free ourselves? No, probably not. But this truth did not make it easier to remember her awful state. A year ago to Lucky, but less than a day for her. It was a good thing she hadn’t been upstream either. A bone needs to be set right before it heals, or it will set badly. Maybe it will never be straight again. She could only hope that nothing had set too rigidly yet. There were several guards outside, wearing the livery of the Crystal Empire instead of the ordinary gold Canterlot guards. Her escort passed on the message that Lucky was permitted inside, and somepony began working the lock. “I told you, nopony comes in! Dad, I said you could put food under the door! That’s it!” The guards looked back at Lucky, panicked. Like they didn’t know what kind of havoc this Alicorn might inflict on them, if she wasn’t soothed. “It’s not your dad,” she called through the door. Her voice sounded the same, at least to her ears. Lucky hadn’t made herself older while she was upstream, like the others had. She intended to finish this the natural way. “Flurry Heart, it’s me.” The protests stilled, and the glow that had been building under the crack of the massive door went out. “We take the safety of the princess seriously,” said one of the crystal guards from behind her, with enough bravery that Lucky was actually impressed. “If it sounds like she is in any way in danger, we will protect her.” He turned just slightly, so she could see the sword sheathed at his side. It looked to be in good order, or at least as much as Lucky’s visits to the renaissance faire had taught her in her youth. “You won’t need that,” she said, ears flattening a little. “I’m the reason your princess isn’t being tortured anymore. I would never hurt her.” That silenced them—she didn’t know how much they knew about what Flurry Heart had endured, though she doubted it was as much as she did. And the one who did it to her is dead, so there’s no one to take out their anger on. Just so long as they don’t choose me instead. The palace bedroom they’d given Flurry Heart was lavish and spacious, far beyond anything Lucky had ever enjoyed. It made her a little uncomfortable, with ancient furniture and intricate art rising all around her and reminding her of just how common she was. I grew up in a van down by the river. Of course, she didn’t have to be too worried about breaking things. It looked like Flurry Heart had already started on that. There were tears in the tapestries, every drawer had been dumped and much of the upholstery had been shredded. The Alicorn had done an efficient job, destroying one priceless valuable with another. As Lucky shut the door quietly behind her, she disturbed a snow of white feathers, no doubt torn from mattresses and pillows whose carcasses were too numerous to name. “Flurry Heart?” she called, her voice becoming small and timid as she tried to do as little additional damage as she could. “Are you… I heard you before, I know you’re in here.” “Over here,” came a small voice from an open doorway. Lucky could see only faint red light from inside, flickering occasionally through the spectrum. Is she watching TV? That was how it looked, like the shadows a screen might cast on the floor. Have ponies invented those? She was, as it turned out, though it did not look like the machine had been built by ponies. In the other room was a large device, made of the same transparent resin she’d seen in screens all over Equus’s infrastructure. A pile of metal objects—lamps, clocks, cutlery—anything Flurry Heart could get her hooves on, were scattered haphazardly around the screen. A few tiny cracks laced its surface, or maybe they were just scratches on the screen. It looked like a desk of sorts, with three screens set at different angles. The furniture was unfathomably old, with scrollwork and delicate gold inlay. It looked like the screens and the keyboard could be concealed within the desk, though Flurry Heart hadn’t done that. From the look of it she’d beaten the keyboard to pieces and tried to do the same to the screens, only she hadn’t been able to in the latter case and was now staring at the screens with a hollow, haunted look on her face. Blackout curtains over the windows ensured there was no light from outside, only the awful glow of the screens. Lucky approached slowly, squinting to try and see what the princess had been watching. On one of the three screens, Lucky could see a massive, spherical shell of tiny parts, through which she caught occasional glimpses of something round and bright. After a few seconds the sphere opened to reveal a star within, and a beam of energy emerged—through the depths of space it went, until it reached a star system full of life and cooked everything. The other screens portrayed similar scenes of horror—of warriors in golden armor, holding the entrance of a building against an unfathomable hoard and being slowly overwhelmed. On the last was a slideshow of dead worlds, their populations decimated by biological weapons. “Why are you still watching this?” Lucky asked. As she watched, the awful presentation switched to some new horror. Lucky looked away—the images were too terrible, and too graphic. More than that, some of those she saw dying looked familiar. “I keep hoping…” Flurry Heart muttered, not looking away from the screens. “If I keep watching long enough, I’ll see… see it go different. There are billions of them. Celestia made me watch for months, and I haven’t even seen a tiny piece of it. Maybe one has a happy ending.” She turned then—and she looked worse than she had in the simulation. Her mane ragged and patchy, falling out in places. Her eyes swollen and bloodshot, her coat thin and faded. If she’d been a stray a pound took it, they probably would’ve put her down for fear of getting all the other dogs sick. “Some were close!” Flurry Heart went on. “There was this big, important-looking place. It had lots of ships… I thought they were going to win for sure.” “It did go different somewhere,” Lucky said, her voice as gentle as she could make it. “It went different here. Equus survived.” “That’s not what I mean!” Flurry Heart stomped one hoof, and as she did so her horn flashed. Another painting ripped itself from the wall beside her, crashing down. “I mean from somepony who didn’t hide. Lots of them were… they were so brave. These tiny little planets, with barely anypony living on them. They flew out and died fighting even though they knew they couldn’t win.” She shivered, and looked like she might fall over. “I need to see her be wrong.” Lucky didn’t know what to say to that. But she remembered Discord’s words, remembered that first rant he’d given what felt like years ago. “Someone won,” she said. “Discord… told me about it. Maybe we could ask Harmony to show you.” Flurry Heart wilted visibly as she spoke the name, and glanced towards the door behind her. Almost like she was going to run. “We don’t have to,” Lucky quickly added. “Hey, just relax! I was thinking out loud. If you’d rather not, we don’t have to.” She took a step closer to the frightened Alicorn. “I’m… I was wondering if you wanted to come to… well, to leave Equestria for a while. You’ve never seen my home before, not my real one. It isn’t much, but… it might be good for you to get away from the familiar. Meet some new ponies.” She lowered her voice, closing some of the distance. “Some of the ponies who did what you said. Ponies from far away who didn’t just curl up and die, and didn’t run away. Maybe you’d like to meet some of them.” Flurry Heart looked up, like a wounded animal afraid of another blow any second. Even so, there was hope in her eyes. Daring, desperate. “I think I’d like that.”