My name is Five and I am alone. So many darks have passed in this place; for a while I mark the damaged tile every time the lights go out. Using my horn, I dig the sharp tip into the soft material; the substance is yielding yet hard to damage, but if I look carefully I can see the tiny pucker marks left behind. It doesn't take long to find the marked tile each time -- the light level falls gradually -- but I am forced to place the marks closer and closer together as the tile fills up. Eventually I run out of space and place the first mark on a new tile, the one right next to it.
The following dark I locate my tile again, but the one next to it is blank. I cast around, desperate, but the light is fading fast and my marks are too small. Tentatively, I reach for the half-remembered patterns of my early foalhood, pushing power into my horn and making it glow fitfully. There are more types of magic than the one I am trained for, I know this, but I have not performed any, other than at my Master's direct request, since I came here. I build the pattern on the fly, modifying it to increase the light output. At the back of my mind, I know this is wrong... but there were never any explicit instructions against doing so. The orange glow brightens and becomes steady, enough that I can see clearly. There it is; halfway to the wall. There is pain now, and I quickly let go of my power in time to take a few quick steps toward my prize. I make my mark and lie down, just as it becomes too dark to see. Satisfied, I close my eyes and go to sleep.
The following light I wake up and start walking; it is only after the third pile of food that I realise that I have not seen either of the marked tiles. Studying the floor as I trot, I look with increasing desperation for any sign of them, but after several kiloseconds of first trotting, then cantering, I can find nothing. The floor is as blank and featureless as it was before I started. Disconsolate with a loss that I cannot put into words, tears start to run down my muzzle, dripping to the floor and vanishing through the hair-fine cracks between the tiles to leave no trace. Still crying, and completely unable to see, I break into a stumbling run, galloping until my strength gives out and my mind is as exhausted as my body. The Masters must have been watching, because as I stagger to a halt, a small pile of food appears from under the wall. Out of long ingrained habit I walk to it and start to eat; the food tastes a little different to normal and I soon start to feel better. I don't try and make any more marks.
It is the middle of the light when the work chime sounds again. It has been several darks since the last time I was called upon, and to know that I am still needed comes as a great comfort. Even better, this will be a chance to be with the Others again, and wipe away the residual melancholy that has made my time since waking pass more slowly than normal. I hide my feelings away behind a wall of excitement, staring expectantly at the screen with head raised. It comes to life, showing me another neon orange pattern. Brow furrowed, I drink it in, building a copy in my mind. It's not quite the same as the others -- every single one is slightly different, although they are all similar, having a central, unchanging, core -- but I can manage it easily. Eyes shut, I run through the pattern a few times, then push.
The Others are waiting for me, their numbers swelling rapidly as more of us join the herd-of-the-mind. It is like coming home after a long absence; any unhappiness I have vanishes under the joy of their presence. We are all friends, companions, lovers; everything that we are is joined together. Somewhere deep inside I know this is an illusion, that all I have is a sense of belonging, rather than an actual exchange of information, but it is enough. The magic starts to build, the room blazing orange even through my tightly closed eyes, and I push harder, trying to get closer to my friends.
Where there should be the warning tingle to let me know that my time is up, there is nothing. Emboldened, I strive for greater heights of magic, thinking that if I try hard enough, perhaps I will finally be with the Others in body, as well as mind. I can feel my body only slightly during my efforts, a dim sensation of fatigue and sweat-soaked fur, but nothing that matters compared to being with the Others. My legs fold and I fall to my belly, but the floor is soft and it does not disturb my concentration.
The taste of the Others starts to change, as if a few parts of the herd are vanishing. This adds a new hope to the joy of being with them; some have found a way to leave this place, to go to a place where the most distant point a pony can see is further than a single bodylength away. Desperate not to be left behind, I make one final push--
===
Lilac cocked one ear up to the ceiling, a gesture followed by many of the other ponies in the deepest part of their shelter. "Is that it?" No new shockwaves, no little trickles of pulverised rock falling from fresh cracks in the ceiling.
"Maybe," Spiral said, stepping to his side, her brow furrowed. "I thought we’d all be dead by now, so..."
One of the other ponies poked his head into the chamber. "Hey, the comms says there’s a cease-fire!"
A gabble of relieved voices flooded the room, cut by the voice of Helium. "Really? And how do we know this isn’t some trap to get us into the open?"
"The new gryphon units are on the move, so they think it’s all over." The other pony shrugged. "For now, anyway. Personally, I think we use this as a chance to get as many of us safe as we can."
Spiral nodded sharply. "Yes, the first task is to check in with each of the shelters. I’m sure they can dig themselves out, but our assistance may be required."
"And the cloud cover!" another pony called out. "Those spells won’t last without maintenance. If the attack starts again it’s the only thing stopping the dogs from spotting us."
Which they will if we start digging each other out under open skies! Lilac ruffled his clipped wings, nodding to Random. "I can show you how to fix yours," he whispered in her ear, then flinched as he glanced at the stump of her horn. "When you are ready! Your foals are still sedated, right?" The conversation continued around them, the ponies building a response plan under the guidance of those with emergency team experience.
She smiled slightly. "It might not be that long in the future; don't tell Spiral, but I can already manage some minor telekinesis. Even with this tiny stump of a horn..." The smile faltered, becoming strained. "...don't tell anypony, please." Lilac nodded and Random sighed, looking mournfully at her featherless wings. "The dogs left me with nothing. What else were we to do with them all?" she said, looking a little guilty.
"Too young to understand." He nodded vigorously. "How long did Spiral say they would be out?"
"A few tens of kiloseconds." She shuffled her hooves, looking down, then started to back away. "Thank you for your kindness, but I really need to be with them." She turned and fled, weaving through the herd of excited ponies.
"Stupid, stupid," Lilac muttered, then joined the group receiving orders for cloud maintenance. At least I know I can do this. Should be easier without being under nuclear bombardment!
===
"Strix reports thaumic excursion alarms triggered." The voice from the communications desk was high and thin, its owner looking aghast at something on her panel. "They request an immediate abort."
The General looked stupidly at the flashing warnings on his console, trying to extract some meaning from the arcane symbols. "This firing is critical," he croaked, "these ones knew there was a risk of excursion. Evacuate the facility and go to remote mode." Has the firing solution changed? His jaw dropped as he read the predicted yield. Effect radius is... is... ten megalengths. But that’s-- Disbelieving, he checked his requested power settings and they matched exactly. But this one didn’t, he swears he didn’t! The display wasn’t how he remembered, there was no new layout, it was exactly the same as it always had been in the simulations.
Have these ones been hacked? But who would want to do this? He felt sick, then started hammering on the controls, trying by pure force to halt the attack. The system failed to respond, but that was always the risk with biological mechanisms. Can this one trust it anyway? No choice. "Sterilise the facility." He stabbed a paw at his aide, who bent to work his own console. "Hard kill."
"Order sent but this one is still receiving updates," his assistant replied, ears flat back. "The destruct did not fire!"
"General, what--" The Monarch’s muzzle twisted into a snarl when he was ignored. The guard servitor, always a pace behind, twitched and stepped forwards, a sickly greenish glow congealing around its horn.
Fear made the hackles down the General’s back rise, but he turned his back on the Monarch. "Do these ones have any strategic assets in range?" he asked, tension making his throat close up.
His aide risked a quick glance at the guard pony, then dipped his head, paws flashing again across his own terminal. "Nothing fast enough. Closest is a ballistic shot from the Oria Mountain launch site. No contact with the Strix inner security detachment. The Strix outer perimeter detail is responding, but..." He left the sentence hanging, his ears folded back.
"General, report!" the Monarch demanded, alarm on his face.
Not now! Ininil bit back a snarl, his eyes on the black-and-white-striped horror at the Monarch’s side. "Send them in," he snapped to the aide, "stop the attack at all costs." It’s one thing to nuke them all, but a death by randomised magic...
The Monarch made a gesture and green fire bloomed around the General. He fell to his knees, gasping and writhing, a blowtorch heat across all points of his body at the same time. Another gesture and the pain vanished. "This one asked the General a question," the Monarch hissed.
Ininil gasped and trembled, trying to stand. He stared at the fur on the backs of his arms, amazed they weren’t charred to carbon and ash. "T-there is a problem with Baur strategic systems. The Strix weapon is firing at full power." The look of annoyance on the Monarch’s face deepened and Ininil held back a sigh. "It will affect everything out to ten megalengths... the whole planet, Monarch."
===
A shrill warble cut through the air, a desperate tone that evoked the sound of an infant Person screaming. "Cut that Maker-damned thing off!" Oranar yelled, paws balled into tight fists inside his suit’s armoured and clawed gloves. His autocannon flicked this way and that, nosing the air like a seeker drone given full autonomy, following the direction of his eyes as he scanned the approach to the Strix compound.
There was a crack and the alarm cut off, or at least was much quieter; the tone still repeated from somewhere behind the heavy door. That they had opened under local control, so at least the heavy breacher rig could be left behind. "System still not responding to aggressive remote overrides," came the slightly bored reply from one of his sersjants. "At least they didn’t armour the speakers".
Oranar grunted something humourless and crude. Property damage is the least of this one’s worries. The little barchart feed from his thaumic defences rippled again, picking up something from deeper in the complex. It spiked, then subsided. Orders are orders. No suppressors in range... damn that traitorous servitor! He hit the ‘go’ key on his tactical bracer.
The point gryphons surged forwards, galloping into the complex. Within was the main loading bay and associated guard rooms and defence posts. The inner part of the base, which Oranar had guarded for the last quarter gigasecond but never actually entered, was full of mysteries. Command still won’t tell this one what this place does... servitors are involved, but so what? The urging in his earpiece was becoming very insistent, so Oranar waved a paw to the rest of his squad and followed the gryphons in.
Some of the soldiers set up a watch, while others breached the light doors leading deeper into the complex. The inner chamber was distorted in some strange manner; where there should have been the smooth anti-spall liner were organic bumps and curves. In some places the liner had split, showing that the aggregate and basalt whisker armourcrete was responsible; it had bubbled and flowed like tar under the hot sun. The guards that should have been in here were gone, leaving only empty uniforms and fallen equipment next to piles of...
Oranar twitched, his ears going back. One equipment belt was neatly placed around the swell of an ornamental pot, a fancy ceramic and metal thing filled with a mature plant that bore broad, lush leaves. Another was half buried in a mound of very small dolls, each identical and bearing a startling similarity to-- He swallowed, determined not to look any closer, just as his thaumic attack sensor warbled again. There were sudden screams, ragged, gargling noises only a gryphon could make, coming from the forward teams.
The spike of power climbed up the logarithmic scale of the little graph on his HUD, turning the whole thing into a mass of red. Oranar drew in a sharp breath to shout a warning, then a strange tingling swept through him, rapidly building to a twisting, burning pain--
===
Fusion stared at the world spread below them. Through her normal eye it looked peaceful, if a little surreal. Vaguely pink clouds extended from horizon to horizon, the billowy plane marked only by the occasional peak of a mountain tall enough to puncture the haze, parting the smooth katabatic flows like stones in a stream. Here and there were pockmarks, like somepony had kicked hoof-divots in an otherwise smooth lawn; smooth-sided craters in the clouds. Fusion’s ears drooped and she swallowed away the taste of acid at the back of her throat.
"How bad did it get?" she asked, voice sounding coarse.
"Bad enough. They obviously didn’t know where to strike... between the dog’s mid-course defences and my efforts we killed a lot of the weapons." She shook her head. "I got out just ahead of a blast wave. I think it would have been easier if they’d have tried the Hammer again."
"Too afraid of what might happen if we managed to divert it, I guess." Fusion flew a wide loop, the world’s biggest vulture circling a corpse as wide as a continent, studying the view through shadow sight.
Through shadow sight the cloud was filled with the interplay of decaying pastel lights, a huge tangle of threads and nodes, a vast complexity the result of the interactions between hundreds of minor spells. Amid the cobweb fuzz moved bright patches, like glowing fish over a fluorescent reef, each leaving a wake of brighter, more intense colours. How many did that really save? Even with her own magic it was hard to see far through the fog of energised water droplets; the ground might as well have vanished.
"That looks like a good sign," Gravity said, her voice a little hesitant. "I can see a lot of activity in the clouds... perhaps we didn’t lose too many?" They flew on in silence for a few seconds, through normal space and without the mad, jolting rush of chained teleports.
"We are good at what we do," Fusion said softly. "The dogs built us well."
"It’s just a shame they didn’t understand what they had!" Gravity snorted.
"I’m proud of us, I really am." Tears made the view swim and distort, and Fusion blinked them away. "I took the one bit of stability from their lives and this is how they react."
"I think it helped that Orgon gave that order... but yes."
There was an odd distortion at the edge of Fusion’s shadow sight, and for a moment she thought it was some artefact of the altitude or perspective. It was not; on the horizon magic bloomed in a complex, turbulent pattern, expanding rapidly like a physical shockwave.
===
Orgon yawned, thinking about the medical kit in its special holder under his console. He was already one shot into the course of battlefield stimulants. The taste of the stuff was putting him off. The first dose was bad enough; the second would be horrible. His clarity was fading and soon it would be time to sleep or take the drugs. He glanced down at Merlon, but the pony was staring off into the middle distance, apparently transfixed by the opposite wall. The pony would be able to make a slight adjustment to this one’s brain chemistry...
He sighed, then flinched as another set of alarms went off. The tone was new, something not heard during the current war or the one before it. Thaumic attack-- He glanced at the strategic staff, already busy directing the movement of Arclight aircraft.
The tactician in charge of the group shook her head, a slightly smug smile on her muzzle. "These ones have nothing in range, Strategist. As per the agreement with the rogues, all Arclight units have been kept at least a megalength away from their occupied territory."
She didn’t continue the thought, but Orgon was already thinking it. The ponies brought it upon themselves... these ones can’t help them even if they wanted to, but if Orgon doesn’t warn them... He snapped a claw at the communications officer. "Contact Fusion Pulse; relay the attack warning."
The comms officer bent to his task, and Orgon’s gaze went back to the thaumic warning display. The whole northern section of Lacunae was covered with a low-grade haze from the ponies’ defensive magic, but there was a spot somewhere in the middle that was showing a glimmer of greater power. It suddenly flared, then burst; a pebble dropped into a phosphorescent pond. A faint ripple spread from the initiation point; it should have faded rapidly, dropping below the ability of the global sensor net to detect, but it didn’t. The ripple was stubbornly persistent, only gradually subsiding as it expanded.
Orgon’s ears flattened. "Technical, get a reading on that strike!" He’d never seen a real thaumic weapon discharge outside of small-scale tests, the few that the World Court allowed. What is happening under those clouds? "Report, dammit!" The spellshock was moving at about a kilolength a second, roughly the same speed as a hypersonic transport.
"T-this one doesn’t know; the signature is not one Technical has on file." The military Academician’s voice was awe-filled and distracted. "The wave is not decaying as expected; it will come in range of the perimeter Arclight units in approximately half a kilosecond. This one will continue to work on parameterising the attack profile. Can this one order the expansion of the Arclight sensor perimeter? It would be useful to get a direct measure of the spellshock."
Orgon grunted, mind whirling. It goes against the spirit of the agreement, but... "Do it." Drones would be launching from the distant Arclight squadrons, remote-piloted by the onboard gryphon pilot-farm, carrying expensive and sensitive thaumic sensors. "Any communication with our new allies?" This was answered with a quick shake of the communication officer's head. Orgon made a hissing noise through clenched teeth. "Get a report from the units these ones sent to them... and get the World Court!"
"Yes, Strategist. The rogues-- ah, the independent ponies have modified much of the existing hardware; this one has not received standard comms pings for some time. This one has not managed to contact Fusion Pulse, either... he doesn't believe the Court is passing on the message." There was a pause. "The non-causal unit is still functioning, but none of the client races are present. There is no outbound link. Too many detonations. Cloud cover is still too complete to get a high frequency link from the temporary drones. This one has a ping from the ELF, but only an acknowledgement..." His voice subsided to a mutter, paws still moving over the console.
"Launch a dedicated relay; drop it through the clouds." Hundreds of seconds for the ballistic fall of a drone to take it from the nearest launch site to the shrouded valleys. "Keep trying."
===
Lilac flew through the clouds, his field-reinforced wings making the fog around him glow a faint purple. Shadow sight was too confusing for constant use; the complex mesh of spells layered over and through each other made picking out a single one a frustrating exercise. Instead, he dipped briefly in and out, relying on glimpses and near-instinctual reflex to grab the decaying patterns and inject more power into them.
None of this was particularly hard, but there was so much of it, endless tiny alterations to knit the unravelling network back into something that would shelter them from hostile eyes. He lost himself in the work, humming some half-forgotten lullaby.
A sudden momentary heaviness ran through him, like his bones were made of lead. The light from his horn and wings blinked out and the wind of his passage through the air changed from a stiff breeze to a yelling, howling gale. Water droplets from the cloud immediately soaked his fur and blasted him like he was under an irrigation hose.
His wings spread by instinct, but failed to bite the air, the stumps of his clipped feathers blown apart by the slipstream. He started to tumble, then stopped it, just as he fell out of the bottom of the cloud deck. The ground was distant, but closing at a frightening rate; Lilac closed his eyes and felt for his power, but where there should have been certainty was only an elusive vagueness that fluttered and shifted under his efforts to pin it down. The patterns filled his mind but they wouldn’t settle into the real. Flares of pale purple light danced up and down his wings, stuttering in time with the wavering sense of disconnection in his head. Nonono--
He took a deep breath, hard to do against the jet engine bellow of the wind. Did I push too hard? Tears of frustration added to those blasted away by the cold air. I got so far and now I’ve killed myself. Something caught his eye, and he blinked away the tears, staring out through slitted lids.
All around the sky was filled with rainbow-coloured motes, falling.
===
"What in the Maker’s name is going on up there?" Ellisif leaned forwards in her harness, staring out of the gunship’s windscreen. They were operating under visual flight rules, not trusting instruments within the energised clouds even with the virtual terrain profiles thrown up by the aircraft’s HUD.
Ponies were falling from the underside of the clouds, a few hundred lengths above the hull of the gunship. They weren’t falling like dropped stones, but it didn’t look controlled, either; many were tumbling, or had wings thrashing at the air. "No threats I can see; no evidence for general thaumic suppression," the pilot reported, her tawny head swivelling rapidly from instrument to instrument. "Wait... ground security reports panic among the pony rescue teams. Some sort of magical failure?" Her voice rose at the end, questioning, and she glanced at her own wings.
Ellisif popped her harness release and gave an experimental flap, the best she could in the confined space. A familiar lightness filled her and she shrugged. "Mine work. No reports from local CAP?"
"Nothing."
The falling shapes were accelerating and Ellisif reached a decision. "Assume they won’t recover in time. Send out an all-wings call: deploy for mid-air rescue."
The pilot gunned the aircraft’s engines and dove towards the nearest group, the acceleration making Ellisif reach for a claw-hold. Not going to be able to get many, but we can try. She opened the door to the troop compartment, pulling her visor down at the sudden blast of air. The side doors were already open, troopers stacking up to leap into empty air. "Pick your targets," she shouted over the slipstream, "don’t get tangled if the pony panics; knock them out if you have to... and no, I don’t know what’s going on."
She ignored the beak click acknowledgements, taking her own place in the jump queue.
===
The more he tried, the more elusive the magic became, until it was gone completely. No shadow sight, not even the simplest spell worked. The sound of rotors, barely audible over the rush of air, made Lilac twitch and he abandoned all efforts towards flight. Wings half out in an effort to maintain some sort of flight surface, he stabilised his fall, changing it from an unstable plummet to something more targeted.
Is there anything I can do? The grim calculus of glide slope, sink rate and terminal velocity filled his head; none of the numbers were welcome. The valley stretched out below him, the central river expanded into a deep, steep-sided lake some way ahead. Can I reach the water and will it make any difference? Gryphon-shapes were fanning out from the gunships, but they were some distance away. Perhaps I can give them as much time as possible.
His glide slope was horrible, but at least he had some ground speed. Cautious adjustment of wing angle found the sweet spot of air flow versus feather holding strength, enough that his dangling hind legs didn't cause too many problems; he tried to add extra air resistance with his fores, but this resulted in a disturbing tendency to pitch forwards and he abandoned any further experimentation. The lake was creeping within range, but the trees lining the valley walls had already gained a sharpness and clarity that spoke of closeness.
Something slammed into his back, sharp-edged bands wrapping around his wing roots. Lilac let out a startled high-pitched whinny and started to struggle, freezing when a gravelly voice screamed something incoherent in his ear. "S-sorry," he said, gulping in a great grasp of air.
The gryphon grunted in response and pulled him closer, long tawny body feeling startlingly warm as the creature tucked its hindpaws under his belly and held him tight. "I’m not going to be able to put you down on dry land," the soldier shouted, "too heavy. Keep your wings out and adjusted for landing flare." His wings, shorter but deeper than those of the average pony, started to backstroke, tiny motions at first but quickly getting stronger and faster.
Liliac did so, wincing as the feathers tried to separate under the still too-fast airflow. Their vertical velocity had dropped, the glide slope more glide than plummet, and soon the lake seemed to be no more than a wingspan below his hooves, little wavelets racing by. "I don’t know if I can swim," he called out, muscles suddenly tensing.
"Keep your wings and legs in and head up. That water is cold and you will want to gasp. Really try not to; I’ll tow you to shore." The soldier’s wingbeats grew suddenly faster and they pitched up, slowing dramatically. The grip of his talons tightened, turning to bands of ache tipped with stabbing pain where the sharp points dug in. "Good luck!" he shouted, then let go.
There was no sensation of falling and no time seemed to elapse between being supported by talons and being enveloped by a hungry mass of icy liquid that hammered at him from all sides. The water closed over his head and he thrashed, jaws clamped shut against heaving lungs. Desperate cold punched through his fur and he kicked out, forehooves striking the pebbly lake bottom. The impact jarred rapidly cooling muscles but stopped his descent; an endless struggle later his muzzle broke the surface.
The urge to breathe became overwhelming and his nostrils flared and he sucked in a great gasp of air, followed by water that made him cough and splutter. Something small and hard struck him on the face, hard to see past the blur of water in his eyes. "Grab the end!" a voice called out and he snapped at it, getting a firm hold of the strip of yielding plastic.
The water closed in again and Lilac gagged, but the thing in his mouth pulled up and out, dragging his head above the surface. He blew water from his nostrils, releasing great, whole-body convulsive coughs, but kept a hold on the rescue line. Ages later his paddling hooves touched bottom again and he collapsed on the shore, forehooves struggling to pull his limp hindquarters from the water. He tried to speak, but the shivering was so strong it just made his teeth clatter together.
"You broke your back? I didn't think--"
There was a look of dismay and guilt in the gryphon's eyes, and Lilac shook his head. "Old injury," he gasped, turning the shiver into a shake that shed water from the front half of his body. "Spinal cord." The gryphon landed, hooking a set of talons under one of his forelegs and hauled him away from the water.
"There are temporary mobility units; I'll radio it in," he said, taking off and peeling away, heading further from the shore to assist another struggling shape. Lilac reached for his magic in an effort to generate some warmth, but there was the same sense of disconnection; even this was fainter than before, the sense of waiting power fading like it had always been a dream. He still shivered, the cold lake shore rocks almost unfelt through numb flesh and sodden coat. The dense tangle of pine forest started a little back from the shore, looking warm and inviting and a thousand lengths away.
Hooves and wings digging into the gravel and pebbles, he slowly dragged himself towards the trees. The movement, ineffectual though it was, added a little warmth to his muscles and he paused to stare across the valley. There was nothing in the sky apart from the wheeling shapes of gryphons and the grumbling roar of gunships. Faintly, over the sound of their engines, he could hear screams. Not just me, but everypony at once. How far does this go?
===
The circle of colour expanded in Fusion’s shadow sight, blossoming from a confused mass of colour somewhere amid their claimed territory and expanding like a shockwave seen in still air. In its wake it left a subtle wrongness, the sense of something missing in the background of thaumically active clouds. The sharing she had with Gravity was closed and she had no time to speak--
~~~discontinuity~~~
--much higher, the air thinned to the point of nonexistence. Her force field bubble swept out, huge and fragile, then fell inwards, making the air breathable and her ears pop. Not far enough! A confused shout from Gravity, her own magic filling the air with darkness and violet, interfering with Fusion’s attempt to get another teleport pattern formed, then the wave of colour ran over them both.
Her power fluttered and the field expanded, then burst like a soap bubble. Fusion’s ears popped and she fell, Gravity tumbling at her side. Flight magic came back first, that and her building speed allowing some control in the thin air. She twisted her wings, feeling them bite, changing her trajectory towards the horizon, rather than straight at the ground. Her mane and tail, now plain pink hair rather than pale rainbow, whipped out behind her.
Gravity was below her now, and still struggling to regain control. Fusion reached out with her magic, gritting her teeth at the sudden spike of pain, like a nail driven through the side of her head. Golden light flashed, then went out. She tried again, and this time the power stabilised. She felt for Gravity with her telekinesis, but her sister had already stopped her meteoric descent, her wings fanning to bring her to a hover. "What the Maker was that?!" she shouted, eyes wide, the whites showing around her dark irises. A violet nimbus flickered around her horn, weak and unstable, then started to strengthen.
Gasping in the thin air, black fog closing in from the edges of her vision, Fusion re-established her defences, restoring her life support magic. Everything was harder than it should have been, like she'd spent the last kilosecond cantering uphill. "A magical attack, something aimed at us." Ellisif had much to say on the dog’s strategic thaumic weapons, but the effects of them had always been death, or manufactured insanity, not this failure-of-magic. Something new, something secret... a counter-culture weapon. "It looked big... I was watching through shadow sight, and it seemed to blanket the world."
Gravity was silent for a moment. "You jumped us away as the pulse struck, but it didn’t help. There was no drop in power?" Fusion shook her head. "I feel weak... what has this done to ponies without our strength?" Her ears flattened and she vanished in a flash of violet light.
Fusion formed her own pattern and pushed--
===
The spellshock crawled outwards, slowly fading until the global sensor array could no-longer detect it. But it's not gone, is it? A simple line replaced it, generated by the strategic systems, moving outwards at the same rate. "What is the prediction?" Orgon said.
"This one will know in... ah, unbelievable! Perimeter sensor has a reading; the spell is still active. Samples taken; analysis started... it is some kind of transfiguration, highly specific." The predicted position of the shock front sharpened, changing into a fuzzy ripple of colour, as the locally networked sensors in the drone cloud all reported back with real-world data. "Arclight coming online; weapons free." He shook his head. "If only these ones had been near the casting locus."
Black patches appeared within the onrushing wave front, then vanished as the power curled around them. "Local effect only, as expected." There was a pause, filled with more muttering. "These ones have backtracked to the initiation point--" A red thaumic hazard icon appeared on the global map, deep within Baur territory. "--it is the facility known as Tartarus."
The thaumic wave started to pass through the outer Hive settlements and bases. Orgon held his breath, but there were no immediate damage reports and no mass casualties. What was it configured to attack? The location of the strike made that obvious and that meant that it was the servitors that were the target-- "What is the closest servitor facility to the thaumic wavefront?" he demanded, searching the map. How could this one be so stupid!?
"This one, Strategist," the Academician said with a strangled whisper. "Brace for spellshock. Fifteen seconds."
Suddenly paralysed, Orgon froze for an instant, eyes drawn to Merlon, still huddled in a ball to one side of the main screen, then adrenaline surged through his body. "The servitor will get to her hooves!" he roared, jumping out of his chair and vaulting over the console.
Merlon’s head came up, panic twisting her muzzle and flattening her ears. "Sorry, Master, I--" Her legs were already churning, scrabbling for purchase on the slick floor.
"Merlon, get out, teleport away--"
Orgon didn’t hear, feel or smell anything, but the change on Merlon’s face was immediate. Her eyes widened and jaw dropped. She spread her wings and flapped them once, the great, grey gull feathers doing nothing more than fanning the fur of his face. "It’s gone," she whispered, "it’s all gone!"
===
"Monarch, the wavefront will strike this facility in half a kilosecond... these ones are out of range of any functioning suppressors."
"Remind this one of why Baur also feeds its servitors the same lucerne derivative?" the Monarch snarled, his white fur bristling. At his side, the white-and-black-striped guard servitor was visibly sweating, its skin twitching like it was packed full of fighting rats. It shook its head; the Monarch ignored the motion, but Ininil took an involuntary step backwards.
"Monarch..." Ininil waved his paw helplessly. "...the risk that these one’s plan could be discovered, and... and the scientists assured the general staff that the thaumic effect could be controlled."
The Monarch made a gesture and the green fire returned, making Ininil shriek and curl into a foetal ball. "This one knows that!" he shouted, then waved for the pony to stop. "How many will these ones lose?"
Ininil stayed on the floor, head tilted towards the Monarch but his eyes on the pony. "These ones have enough suppressor capability to protect the servitors in some of the strategic launchers; those can be saved." He thought for a moment, mind desperately trying to marshal facts he should have known. "In excess of ninety-five percent losses. These ones can save some, but there have been too many suppressors destroyed for the rest of the servitor population to be protected." He flinched in anticipation of pain, but none came. "These ones can warn the other Hives. Collecting servitor groups within thaumic suppression zones will protect them, too."
"The greatest concentrations of their servitors will be at launch sites." The Monarch glared down at him, eyes narrowed, then his muzzle twisted into a nasty smile. "It is not the way This One planned it, but he can take advantage of the situation. What are Our victory predictions, given a loss of a target Hive's mid-course anti-ballistic systems?"
Ininil climbed slowly to his paws, pain radiating from every joint. "The other Hives would still have significant non-ballistic strategic weapons, and the Court... the Hammer still has potential firing solutions on the majority of Baur territory. Even after Luna set..." He swallowed convulsively, the motion making his neck ache. The other Hives will blame these ones anyway... what will the Court do when it discovers the Baur launchers still work?
He hung his head, staring at his booted paws. "It is hard to be sure, Monarch. The game scenario results are clear for Hive attacks; it is the Court that is the unknown factor. They may decide to just hit all our launchers as a precaution." This is madness, Monarch!
"Yes, but this one recalls that the Strix effect is not easily reversed... and these ones will have almost all of the functional servitor breeding stock. Without Baur it will take gigaseconds to rebuild. They might even have to start from the ancestral lines."
"It’s going to take gigaseconds anyway! Every Hive--" Ininil bit off his reply, eyes wide and locked on the Monarch’s servitor, but there was no green fire and no pain.
The Monarch nodded thoughtfully. "This is true, there will be some losses, but Baur will come out in a dominant position. This one will prepare a statement for the Court, when it becomes obvious that the other Hives realise something has gone wrong."
"Yes, Monarch," Ininil said numbly.
===
"What has Baur done, Tundru?" Orgon snarled, keeping his gaze locked on the camera feeding to the Court conference room. The Eugenics Board servitor specialists were leading a shivering Merlon into one of the side meeting rooms, one of their number clamping a jewelled sensor module to the base of her horn, while the rest of the team were assembling a scanning station. Blood was taken, from a cannula already stitched into the big arteries of the mare's neck. She didn't resist, stumbling along behind the leader. The door closed on them, and the last thing Orgon saw was the look of desolation on Merlon's face.
"These ones have taken a just and proportionate action to secure all Hives," Tundru snapped, drawing angry looks from the other Judges.
"Baur will have to answer questions about this weapon," Chetul said, ears folding back. "This will not be forgotten." Her expression soured. "But the magic seems to be functioning as Tundru reported." She turned her attention back to her own camera, staring sternly at Orgon. "These ones have saved Lacunae! Surrender and there will be no further reprisals. Your threat to teleport nuclear weapons has been neutralised and the rogue servitors are no more."
Orgon smiled bitterly. "This one always has options. Was it necessary to attack so much of this one's Hive?" How many millions will die when the servitor-controlled systems collapse?
"Baur Hive is also making sacrifices!" Tundru said. "It was not possible to accurately define the effects radius; Baur has also lost perimeter servitor populations."
Orgon blinked, staring at the Chief Justice. "What does Tundru think is happening here? How far will the effect propagate? This one's data is not showing much decay of the pulse--" He waved a paw at the door of Merlon's meeting room. Shadows were moving behind the frosted glass, darkness coupled with the laser-glows of thaumic hardware. "Is it reversible?"
Tundru sneered at Orgon. "Now is not the time, Strategist."
Chetul held up a paw. "Enough. These ones do not have all the details of the weapon, but have been assured the damage can be undone. The Court suggests that Orgon bend all his efforts to securing his Hive's population. This one understands the stress this has put the Strategist under... Orgon was put in an impossible position, this one understands that." Her tone became almost gentle. "The servitor threat is over."
They expect this one to be grateful! "Is it? The Court knows that for sure, does it?"
"Yes. The Court tracked the rogues to within the target zone during activation."
"That's a 'no', then. Orgon will investigate."
"The Court will send its own teams."
Orgon shrugged. "Of course. There is no more need for these ones to fight." He drummed his claws against his thigh, gaze returning to the door of the meeting room and seeing again a flash of Merlon's expression before the door closed. "The Court has been given all of Orgon's findings, but he thinks they don't really understand what they are facing. The Court spoke to Fusion... no matter if Court policy dictates that servitors are non-persons, she certainly believes she is one. If the Court has failed to neutralise them both, it will soon discover the consequences of this act."
"These ones won't fail," Tundru said. "Stand Lacunae's defences down and allow the audit teams free reign."
===
~~~discontinuity~~~
--the air was filled with screams and moans, the ground under her hooves littered with twisted pastel bodies. A few still moved, tended by gryphon medics, but the vast majority lay broken at the centre of shallow craters. More struggled in the water, thrashing the surface to foam. Eyes wide, she spiralled over the water, staring at the floating bodies amid the survivors.
There was a flash-thump at her side, followed by a rising tide of cold and dark. "Maker! What have those rutting dogs done?!" Violet light flashed, cutting through the dark to cast strangely tinged shadows across the water. Sodden bodies floated into the air, moving to the shore.
Jolted into motion, Fusion's own power joined Gravity's, laying warmth across the carefully arranged bodies. Still in a daze, she walked along the shore, her horn glowing with solar radiance. Gryphon medics swarmed over the recovered ponies, checking and moving on, or occasionally working frantically with conventional medicine. Amid the dead, small body huddled under a foil and aerogel trauma coat, was a pony she recognised: Lilac. He stared out over the lake, transfixed by the feathers scattered across the water. "Lilac," Fusion croaked, "what are you doing out here?" Her gaze flicked to his hindquarters and the spindly wheeled contraption holding his rear legs off the ground.
He didn't turn to look at her, but lowered his head and fumbled with the coat's fastenings between his forelegs. Clumsy teeth tugged at the fittings, failing to get purchase. "I was in the clouds--" Fusion made a surprised noise and he glanced up at her, muzzle twisting in distress. "I worked out a way to fly, I so wanted to get into the clouds, to be useful." He stifled a sob. "Nothing but a burden." He rubbed his face against his forelegs, taking a deep, shuddering breath.
Fusion felt numb. "Not true, Lilac, not true," she whispered, leaning close. Even at this distance shadow sight showed nothing; horn and wing were as dark as rock or grass. "I know you've been working with Spiral to help the wounded... how much of that time could you have spent on your own problems?"
His head dipped again, lips groping at the fastening. Teeth finally getting purchase he pulled, the strap stretching but not separating. It popped free, still attached. "Maker dammit!" Lilac looked up at Fusion again, eyes filled with frustrated tears. "And look what good that has done me! What are we going to do, Fusion? I can't walk, I can't fly -- will we get our power back?"
"I... I'm sure you will. Gravity and I both had magic failures when the spell hit, but it went away. It will just take a bit longer, that's all," she said, putting as much authority into the trembling words as she could. Weak, Fusion, really weak. She gently separated the fastenings at his chest and under his belly, leaving the coat over his back. "I need to go, Lilac, but I'll be back."
He nodded, giving her a wan smile. "I know, Fusion."
She backed away, then turned and trotted along the lakeshore, scanning her surroundings. Shadow sight showed the terrible and incomprehensible truth; everypony still alive was in the same state as Lilac. The trot turned into a canter, then a gallop, a mad rush spraying gravel and pebbles from her hooves. There wasn't a trace of power in any of them. They've destroyed us, Gravity, unmade everything we are, Fusion thought, pushing open the sharing and sending what she could see.
Gravity was back in the air, her mind filled with flashes of imagined destruction. Who did this to us, Fusion? Despite the images, the other mare's mental tone was calm and flat. The darkness and cold had faded; her emotions were as absent as the new moon’s face. Gravity's will was bent to her telekinesis, a constant effort of pulling bodies out of the water and from the trees. Have you found anypony else with active magic?
Fusion cast about, searching again with her shadow sight, then jumped into the air--
~~~discontinuity~~~
--nothing at the first settlement, just an ant's-nest chaos of gryphons working on pony bodies, with living ponies milling about like they were lost. She jumped again and again, each time seeing only the golden glimmer of gryphon wings. "There's nopony left!" she choked out, tears streaming down her muzzle. Anger started to replace the horror, fury welling up to fill her with febrile heat--
~~~discontinuity~~~
--appearing back at the downed attack carrier. The non-causal communicator was still there, moved out of the ruined hull but still connected to the power plant, under a small shelter. Ellisif, supported by a squad of her soldiers, spoke in clipped tones with someone on the screen. Fusion landed with a crash, her mane the hard, pure colours of laser light. Ellisif recoiled, stepping back before she could be pushed aside, then raising one set of talons against the glare. She waved her guards back; they had drawn their weapons and were pointing them with no small degree of alarm at Fusion.
"You missed, Orgon!" Fusion snarled, glaring at the Strategist. "I really thought we had a chance, dog, but now you’ve gone and thrown it all away." A brilliant point of light appeared above her right shoulder, then blurred to strike a stand of trees on the far side of the valley. It detonated with a flash and a sharp crack, turning the patch of scrub woodland into a crater surmounted by a plume of burning fragments. "Do you know how many you have killed?" The flow of Fusion's anger faltered against the haunted look on Orgon's face.
"It was not these ones," Orgon said, leaning heavily against the side of a console. "The thaumic attack is still spreading; it is currently half way across Lacunae territory. Orgon knows where the attack--"
"Liar! As if I would believe a single further word from you, Orgon. You and your whole wicked species." She spat the words, the returning heat of her fury making the sparse grass shrivel. "That’s all you are, little cubs wrapped up in lifetimes of falsehoods!" Fusion pawed at the ground, glaring at the screen.
"Yes, well..." Orgon walked across the room, opening a frosted glass door. The camera tracked him, then switched to one inside the adjoining chamber. "Will the pony believe Merlon?"
The grey mare was surrounded by the instruments of thaumic examination: head clamped within a crystal crown and her wings held out by slender frames of stainless steel. Her eyes were closed, little tremors running over her skin, the flesh twitching like she was beset by swarming flies. Orgon made no gesture, but the Eugenics Board staff retreated at his approach. He laid a paw on Merlon's neck; she sagged slightly in his direction, calming slightly. "Report" he said softly, looking at the mare but addressing the technicians.
The dogs glanced at each other, uncertain and nervous, before one stepped forwards. "Strategist, this one is Academician Thul. It will take much longer to be sure, but... there are traces of an abnormal protein in the servitor's blood. These ones requested a servitor with experience in horn development investigation--" She shrugged, a helpless gesture. "The protein has some affinity with keratoblast and krustalloblast surface receptors, but it is more complex than that. The sequencing is underway." Her paws came together, digits clenched into a pair of fists. "There are megaseconds of investigation here, even if these ones still had servitor support... with the complete loss of the science teams..." She gave another shrug.
"Can it be reversed?" Orgon's paw moved, scratching at Merlon's withers.
Thul stared at Orgon's paw, following its movement with worried eyes. "This one doesn't know. Work has started on a number of other affected servitors, but this will take time. There is also a depolarization of the neurological structures associated with the horn bed, but conventional therapies for nerve damage have had no measurable effect..." She sighed, lifting her paws and spreading them. "What can be done can generally be undone, but this is outside this one's experience."
The hard colours faded from Fusion's mane and tail as she listened, replaced with a sluggish swirl of pastels. "Merlon," she said softly, "is Orgon telling the truth?"
She nodded minutely, all the restricting armature would allow. "I was in the control room when the attack happened. The spell originated in one of Baur's strategic thaumic sites. Tartarus." Her eyes finally opened, then widened, frantically searching Fusion's face. "You still have magic! Everypony in the Hive has succumbed, so how do you still have magic?"
"I don't know!" Fusion took a deep breath. "Everypony here is affected, except for Gravity and I. There are hundreds dead." She swallowed, fighting down a rising urge to scream. "All those ponies in the clouds, they all fell when their magic failed--"
Fusion, the Hammer! Gravity didn't wait for permission, just burst straight into her thoughts with impressions of terrible motion in high orbit.
"They are firing the Hammer again, Orgon," Fusion snapped, stepping back from the screen.
Orgon's ears flattened and he shouted "Get a track on that!" over his shoulder. "What will the pony do?"
"I am going to save what is left of my people, then I'm going to do what I should have done in the first place." Her wings came down, scattering leaves and forest detritus, then she pushed--
~~~discontinuity~~~
===
Orgon stared at the space left by Fusion, swearing softly. "Serg-- Gryphon Ellisif, this one will supply a full set of orbital elements for the strategic fire. Hive defences will attempt to engage the incoming projectiles with what little these ones have left." Fast accelerating missiles thrown by purely electromagnetic mass drivers, tipped with hot dust and oversized nuclear weapons... it all sounded so good in the planning stages. Shame it was impossible to test.
The gryphoness grunted something rude but generally agreeable, then nodded, wheeling about and dashing for her gunship, followed by her guards. "Good luck, flysoldat," Orgon murmured, then turned to his aide. "Update the gryphon commanders when Defence has refined the tracks."
"The Strategist thinks there will be more than one?" Faula's whiskers drooped.
"Oh yes. This one just isn't sure how far the Court will go. Inform Defence that they are to engage whenever they think best. Hold nothing in reserve." A full effort so this one can stare the pony down from the ruins of the Hive, when it returns for an accounting. The paw he was using to stroke Merlon balled into a fist and pulled away. He reached out a claw-tip, touching it lightly to the end of her horn. "Orgon will fix this. He will not fail the pony."