//------------------------------// // Part 2: Citizen Permissions // Story: Message in a Bottle // by Starscribe //------------------------------// Sarah did not enjoy her second trip through the liquid bowels of Sanctuary. At least the first time had been something new and different, with the company of another human who wanted nothing more than to return to Othar. Now their expedition had just under a dozen members in all, counting the four from each court and the few of them acting as extra hangers-on. They had acquired a few guards and technicians as well, who professed no particular allegiance and had no experience on the surface. “But we will need a basic level of technical competency that cannot be represented in eight ponies,” Pharynx had explained, when he arrived with four black changelings around him instead of two. Thorax had seemed annoyed with this change, but he hadn’t actually stopped the expedition for it. Which means that we need to keep an eye on the Old Hive. They could overpower us if they wanted to. After much deliberation (without her involved, of course) it had been agreed that a significant portion of the new royal jelly would be coming with them, in case they needed it to ensure their safe return. As the leader of the faction that needed it most would be going in person, even he had been willing to agree to bring it along if that meant a greater chance they could return. There was a vein of the strange underwater network running straight through a lower level of the palace, so they didn’t have far to go. No danger that they might accidentally run into more changelings from the faction that they’d upset with their performance in Chroma, anyway. But that didn’t mean Sarah could get away from their constant complaining during the trip. “There’s no reason for us to be leaving Irkalla,” said one of the black changelings, in an echoing voice that sounded like Sarah’s worst imagination of an evil stepmother. “We have everything we need. Enough stock to keep harvesting for our population. Enough spare parts to keep the city powered. If we lose a few drones a year, that’s only those that were too weak to protect themselves. Even if Discord’s messenger told the truth, we don’t need this.” Sarah hadn’t caught her name, or the name of the Prismatic Court drone who had agreed with her. “We won’t need love at all in a few years, once the rest of the population cures themselves of that dependency. The surface is needlessly dangerous. We’re perfectly secure right where we are.” But then things had descended into an argument about which of the two factions would be converting to the others’ way of thinking, and Sarah found herself envious of James and his inability to understand. Listening to the complaining was almost as creepy as watching fish with holes in them swim around their dark section of water. I sure hope you can cure that dependency soon, James, she thought, though there was never a private moment for the two of them to talk, and Sarah wasn’t confident enough to try doing it in English. The changelings seemed to be good enough with language that it might not work. Or they just have the same power I do. But eventually they made it out, vomited into a metal room rather like the one she’d left behind. Once her body recovered from the awful transformation and all her limbs came back, Sarah wandered forward to join the group of changelings assembling in front. Most of them seemed much more experienced with these sorts of transformations than she was, such that only James was slower. Even those who had never been to the surface before seemed used to the tubes for transportation. “We have two soldiers from each faction,” Pharynx said. “Not counting myself, obviously. That means you’re going to have to work together. I know you four probably hate each other… queens know I wouldn’t trust a chromatic myself under other circumstances… but those are ponies up there. There are no lifesigns in the facility up ahead, but that can’t be right. Last time we sent somepony here, they didn’t come back. Stay close, stun quickly. If it looks like they’re going to raise an alarm, shoot to kill.” Almost every member of their expedition wore weapons—except for Sarah herself. Even James had been given one of the rusty guns, and briefed in how to use it. But “the law was clear about ponies with guns,” at least according to Ocellus, and Sarah hadn’t been given one. “Move through the hallway and up a spiral staircase. There’s a residential area beyond that Equestria wasn’t using before. It overlooks the main concourse, and we should be able to barricade it if it comes down to a firefight.” The changelings listened attentively, even those who weren’t part of the four designated soldiers. “What if Celestia’s waiting for us up there?” asked the same spindly black changeling who had annoyed Sarah on the trip up. She hadn’t drawn her weapon, just kept shaking the moisture from her lab coat. She hadn’t removed it, even in the trip up. And now she’s going to carry that awful smell with us for the rest of the day. Great. “Then the queens remember you,” Pharynx said. “We will fight fiercely and not be captured. We will take steps to ensure that none of us survive to be interrogated.” The changeling gulped, but she didn’t argue. “She won’t be there,” Ocellus said, tapping Sarah on the shoulder with one of her wings. “We’ve got witness account. She’s dead. And the Quarantine is lifted.” “We’ll know soon enough,” Pharynx said. “All those answers will be here. I never had a chance to tell you about this place, daughter. Celestia has controlled it for many years, but before that… it was a crucial source of information. It will be again, even if our queen is now dead. You’ll see.” Ocellus looked like she might be about to argue, but she just shrugged. The soldiers hurried off down the hall, transforming in little flashes of light as they turned the corner. “The rest of you, be ponies,” Pharynx said. “I don’t know that it will buy us much time, but it can’t hurt. We’ve never attacked Equus infrastructure in front of them before, so they might not know who really sent us.” They started to change one after another. It was interesting to Sarah just how much the bodies they took seemed to model their personalities. It wasn’t just James who took his old pony body. Except for Ocellus, who took that same pegasus form Sarah had remarked on last time. She tried to hide her looks, but it hadn’t even been three seconds before over half the changelings in the room had turned to stare at her, as though she’d just dropped a pile of steaks into a lion enclosure. Oh, right. They feed on that, don’t they? Sarah blushed, crossing her back legs for a second and imagining the most boring thing she possibly could. She replaced Ocellus facing away from her with a memory of James complaining. A few of the changelings snickered, looking away. Except for Ocellus, whose ears had flattened in embarrassment. She took a step away, but didn’t say anything. She didn’t seem upset. I wonder if she took that form on purpose. A few minutes later, and the soldiers they had sent away returned, without any sign of injury anywhere that Sarah could see. “Nopony there,” one reported. “At least not where you sent us. And no sounds coming from further in.” “Maybe they abandoned it,” said one of the chromatic changelings. “Maybe Celestia moved on.” “Or maybe she’s dead,” Sarah said, annoyed. “And there’s no one there because she’s not telling them to be there anymore.” “Doesn’t matter the reason,” Pharynx said. “Right now all that matters is we can move forward without danger. You four, split up. Three in back, and you with me up front. The rest of you, stay between us and don’t make noise.” They moved in silence then, up the hallway and then around a set of spiral stairs. Then they emerged in a large central junction that could’ve just as easily been part of any of a dozen different space stations Sarah had seen in her earlier life. Metal floors, simple decorations, no sound other than the quiet hum of air circulators. There were individual doorways, which would open automatically if any of them got too close. But there was no sign of occupation. No personal effects were on the ground, and the planter-boxes were empty of anything alive. “We knew this part would be deserted,” Pharynx whispered, loud enough that the whole group could hear. “We’ve been saving this path for another covert visit to Canterlot. We’ve known that once we use it, we won’t be able to re-use it.” His eyes narrowed as he glowered at Sarah. “I hope we haven’t wasted it for nothing.” “Well since I’ve told you the truth, I think you’ll be able to use it as much as you want. Assuming the… new princesses don’t want to fight you as much as Celestia did.” Pharynx silenced her with another harsh gesture, and Sarah didn’t argue this time. However much she might want to… this was possibly the most dangerous thing she’d done. This place was apparently somewhere ponies had been working before. What if they were still there, and would still kill intruders just as the old ones had? “I think I might… know where we are…” Sarah muttered, only loud enough that the ones right around her could hear. Ocellus was beside her, and James just behind, and those were the only ones she really cared about. “This is… this looks like where Forerunner told me that we fought Celestia. The… base… thing.” “Shh,” one of the soldiers commanded. She grumbled, but fell silent as they crossed through a large door and onto a balcony overlooking a thoroughfare far below. Except that it wasn’t a balcony, more like a cliff, without any railing or other safety features. Down below she could make out a little glowing hologram of a ring, and further on, little fountains and planter-boxes filled with brown-dead plants. It was all a hundred or two meters down, so she couldn’t see much for sure. But there weren’t any ponies down there. Nothing moving at all, except the bubbling water and the slowly rotating hologram of a ring. “Can everypony here fly?” Pharynx asked, glancing through the group. “That’s a long drop. I don’t want anyone to break anything.” “James can’t.” She gestured at the unicorn. “He was a unicorn until a week ago.” “Why are you pointing at me?” Nopony else raised their hooves, and Pharynx groaned in exasperation. “Of course. Not just barely-competent in transformation, but in simple navigation as well.” He pointed, and two of the other changelings grabbed James on either side. “Hey!” He started to struggle. “What are you—” “Relax,” Ocellus said, almost as annoyed as her father. “We’re carrying you down. Don’t fight or they’ll just let go.” “Oh.” He stopped, muttering something vulgar in an Earth language Sarah didn’t know. “I need to learn the language they use,” he said. “More than I picked up in the palace, I mean. Maybe we can find time for lessons after—” He squealed in surprise as he was lifted into the air by a pair of struggling changelings, and his discomfort transformed into fear. But he didn’t get himself dropped. Sarah herself couldn’t watch then, because her own gliding was so rudimentary. She felt a little like a beginning skier on the slopes surrounded by experts, wedging her legs far apart and still feeling like she was wildly out of control even while everyone around her treated this like a bunny slope. She touched down last of the whole group, with stares and mutters from all the changelings watching her. “I’m not used to the wings,” she said, baring her fangs at all the ponies staring at her. They left her alone after that. Most of the crowd separated to cover the various doorways on the first floor, though there were so many balconies and other levels overhead that there was no chance they could’ve watched them all. But there was much they couldn’t have seen above that was now obvious—furniture had been set up right in the walkway, made of wood and various other old materials that didn’t match the scenery. There was a barricade on the center of the bridge, with bits of wood and stone broken onto the ground like they’d just been shot. But there were no corpses anywhere, no mysterious stains where people might’ve bled out. It looked like the evacuation had been systemic, rather than desperate and fearful. “This way,” Pharynx said, gesturing over the barricade and across the bridge. “You two, watch that path there. That goes up into Canterlot Castle. If you see anypony coming, warn us. Everypony else, with me.” And they left. Pharynx kicked the barricade apart with a single forceful gesture, scattering broken wood and old pony weapons on the ground. Sarah kept her eyes open for fallen paper, any kind of message that might suggest why this area was so empty. But nothing jumped out. They wandered down a hall for a few minutes, twisting from section to section according to a route that only their guide seemed to know. “Where are we going, Father?” Ocellus asked, and there was nothing accusatory in her tone. Only confusion—all the anger and frustration of their last few months in the capitol forgotten. “Equus has many access points,” Pharynx explained, in a language that James couldn’t understand judging on his annoyed expression. “Each one provides a different kind of information. When Harmony established Equestria, it did so next to its own central control, so that those loyal to it could be the ones to interface with its systems. We can’t give it directions, since none of us are ‘citizens’. But we can still ask questions. Some of them will be answered.” “So this is how we check on the Quarantine,” Ocellus supplied. “We’re not going to the surface for that part at all. We’ll just ask the computer. Makes sense.” They rounded the bend into a hallway that looked like it had been physically destroyed. A door had been ripped right off the wall, and many of the uneven walls had been melted smooth by terrible heat. She could see bits of metal half-fused with it at various points, as though some terrible force had flash welded soldiers in metal armor directly to the deck. And through the destroyed doorway, Sarah could see a room of moving crystals. Each one was exactly the same shape, though made of something transparent and constantly varying in illumination. They moved through the air in a systemic way, a dance of light and color. Most of the changelings stopped well short of the door, and James as well. “I don’t want anywhere near that shit,” he said, glowering. “Those things are bigger than most airplanes. And look how fast they’re moving. I like not being dead too much.” “None of you have to come,” Pharynx said. “I’ll ask the questions, anyway. But I suppose my daughter will want to witness the answers. Not that I would lie to you…” “I’m coming,” Ocellus said. “It won’t try to kill us, will it?” “Probably,” Pharynx said, without coyness. “Last time I tried to get in here the ponies on duty killed me. But as you can see…” He kicked out with one leg, and a bit of melted armor stuck into the floor broke cleanly away. “Didn’t work out for them in the end, though.” “I think this might be where we fought our way in,” Sarah said, though even as she said it there was some obvious caution in her tone. “This looks like… looks like there was a big fight here.” “Looks like Celestia buzzed you right up,” Pharynx countered, nodding to the set of melted armor. “See the bubbles on the inside surface here? That’s what happens when she cooks someone alive. Their blood keeps the inside cool, and you get bubbles of steam escaping through the metal.” “There were deaths,” Sarah said, lifting one of her hooves away from the melted armor. Now that he mentioned it, it did look like there was some scorched Pioneering Society orange on the underside of that lump. Had someone died wearing it? But so far as she knew, only a few members of the crew had died without getting brought back. These bodies probably belonged to people who were living happily in Othar right now. Pharynx set a rapid pace through the open doorway and across the huge room. Sarah kept some distance behind him, walking alongside Ocellus. She kept expecting the massive objects flying through the air to drop abruptly on their heads, but… nothing happened. They kept up their strange dance, rotating through and giving each in turn its chance to slot into a port as large as most houses. Pharynx had a specific destination in mind, though, a bit of ground that was bright blue instead of stone and glowed faintly from underneath. “Oh, you had a spine, pony?” he sneered back at her. “Well, this should be quick then.” He stopped right on the edge, gesturing onto the glass with a wing. “Step on up.” Ocellus blocked her with one of her own wings. “Hold on, Father. Harmony has been known to punish those who fight it before, and we’re in the heart of its power. Why does she have to do it? Because you want her dead?” “No,” Pharynx said, though from his tone Sarah could tell that he obviously did want her dead. “Because ponies are explicitly banned from using these systems. Changelings have guest permissions, since they don’t know what to do with us. But during the Quarantine, no pony can use this without being a citizen. It’s just an interface, it won’t hurt her.” “Promise?” “Yes.” He rolled his eyes. “Look, I’ll go first.” He stepped onto the illuminated section of floor, and at once the light changed. The rest of the panel went so dark that Sarah couldn’t even see the surface of the glass anymore, except for bright green around where he walked. The air around him filled with moving symbols, that seemed to be as much information about him as it was messages sent to him. He stepped off a few seconds later. “Look, see? No harm done. But we don’t know anything more because I’m a changeling and Harmony would have answered me regardless of the Quarantine. Sarah, you do it.” She pushed past Ocellus, ignoring her protests that she didn’t really have to and there was no reason for her to put herself at risk. Maybe everything I’ve tried with her hasn’t been for nothing after all. As before, the glass panel went dark everywhere except where she stood, which glowed in a solid outline. The air around her head filled with information, which despite being in a language she hadn’t seen before she found she could still read easily enough. It listed her mass, her blood type, expected lifespan, and various other bits of information she didn’t know how to interpret. The hell is complexity and why is it a three? Is that good? But it wasn’t just visual information. Though she had heard nothing when Pharynx stepped up onto the panel, she heard a voice now. If only it had just been a voice. It felt as though she had just stepped into the biggest auditorium to run the most convoluted, unlikely scam of her life. There were a thousand marines around her, each with sniper rifles and orders to fire if she stepped out of line. The world was a single lidless eye, boring into her mind, replaying her memories, making it impossible for her to move. The entire world faded away, and in that instant Sarah knew what it might be like to meet God. A silent god, anyway. The moment passed, and she felt someone touch her, wrapping hooves and wings around her and holding her tightly. It was Ocellus, and her voice seemed to fade back into focus. “I told you it was going to attack. We’re breaking its rules. Harmony always gets back at us. She wasn’t standing on the strange ground anymore. Ocellus had apparently dragged her to the edge. “I… I fainted?” she asked, her voice coming through feeble and faltering. “Y-yeah,” Ocellus breathed. “Not sure why. Probably… well, obviously it’s some kind of defense mechanism.” “No,” Pharynx corrected. His voice didn’t have a hint of compassion, despite her vulnerable state. “She didn’t issue any commands. Unless she tried to silently, which… seems advanced for her first time.” “I didn’t,” she muttered. She held her head up, trying to shake the confusion away. “I’m so… ugh. I feel like I was… transparent.” She looked around, but there were no guards, no crowd, no one but the three of them and the huge crystals overhead. No defenses had emerged from secret compartments, or pony armies. There wasn’t even a new robot around, as Forerunner might have. “That’s not an attack,” Pharynx said, glaring at Ocellus. “If Harmony wanted her dead, she’d be dead. She felt its presence for the first time, that’s all. She’s new, and it noticed her.” “Doesn’t matter,” the changeling said. “We can’t use her. You can just go up and ask the questions yourself. We don’t have to use the pony test.” “We don’t have to,” he agreed. “Except that Harmony can lie. It can’t violate Celestia’s instructions though, even if it wanted to deceive us. So the evidence won’t be as strong. If you want to get the best proof for the story you’re trying to sell us…” “We don’t need it,” Ocellus said, without even thinking. “Not if we have to force her back on the pad. We can settle for just asking, can’t we Sarah? You don’t want to go back there.” Sarah stood, pushing Ocellus gently away. In reality, the changeling was right. She didn’t want to go back up there, not for an instant.  But she did want to finish this damn mission for Discord, and get the Sword of Damocles down from over her head. If she had to be the most convincing, then… “How do I stop from getting knocked out again?” she asked, ignoring Ocellus as she tried to hold her back. Pharynx actually seemed impressed with her resolve. It was the first time he hadn’t sneered at her during this whole trip. “You need to have a mission in mind before you activate the interface. Harmony is vast, more minds than you can imagine. Even the background noise from all that, separated from us by infinite complexity, can still be overwhelming to these tiny, simple bodies. Walk right up and demand what you want. Don’t try to make sense of the thoughts on the other end. So long as you focus on yourself and your mission, you should be okay.” Sarah nodded one last time, then stepped up onto the panel again. The light changed, and she made her way out on the hard, cool surface without stumbling or falling. The roar of a distant crowd returned, the many eyes that seemed to bubble up from the solid matter of every object and surface around her. She ignored them both, closing her eyes tightly. “Is the Quarantine over?” she asked, in a language she hadn’t used yet. But it seemed like the same one that was printed around her, or she guessed it was. “Can we go to space?” “You may,” said a voice from beside her. She had felt no movement of the air, seen no flash from a teleport—but there was somepony there. A pony made entirely from metal, though its flesh was more like dense bundles of wire than any android she knew. It was about the size she imagined an Alicorn must be, the size Thorax had stood, with wings and a horn both made of something transparent and vividly blue. “And you are. Citizen designation Mending lifted isolation approximately one year ago.” The voice wasn’t clearly male or female—one moment it seemed deeper to her, but the next it might change, becoming high and squeaky like a child. “You are not aware of the activities of your own civilization. You have been retrofitting the Agamemnon for several months now.” Sarah hadn’t noticed until then, but the impact on her companions had been dramatic this time. Far from trying to pull her off the controls, she saw that Ocellus and even Pharynx had dropped into a supplicative bow. Both of them had reverted to their true shapes, with wings folded and ears flat. They’re terrified. Does that mean I should be? Everything about this station seemed like a religion to them. But then again… the powers here were real. The ones who built this place basically were gods compared to us. I shouldn’t think of them just like more advanced aliens. She couldn’t bring herself to be afraid. “Thank you,” she said. “That’s… exactly what I wanted to know. And, since we’re already talking here. Citizen Celestia, she’s dead, right?” She heard a sharp intake of breath from Pharynx, and a whimper of fear from Ocellus. Apparently I wasn’t supposed to say that. But however afraid they might’ve just become; the metallic pony didn’t seem upset. Its tone was exactly as inscrutable as it had been before. “Citizen Celestia is not currently physically instanced,” it said. “That might change at any moment. No member of my population is or will ever be ‘dead’. Not until every drop of energy in the universe has dissolved and no useful work can be accomplished.” “Right.” Sarah grinned. “Thanks, that’s what I wanted to know.” “You aren’t here to become a citizen?” Harmony asked. “When isolation state ended, so did every restriction that formed the basis for ‘Equestria’. I expected an instant reversal to everything I had done… but Discord only returned a handful of the dead. Every individual living downstream could’ve been elevated to citizen permissions if they wished, yet none did.” Become a citizen, Sarah thought, turning it over and over in her head. She could picture Lucky Break standing before her, with her perfect flight, her ability to levitate objects like James, and probably incredible sexiness too. Sarah couldn’t judge the attractiveness of authority figures that well when they all looked so good. “That sounds…” Then she hesitated. Ocellus’s expression caught her eye. There was fear there, though Sarah couldn’t imagine why. It’s basically offering it to me. Enough power that I won’t have to worry about what the Pioneering Society wants. I can’t get recycled. If the stories from Equestria were true, she wouldn’t even age once this was done. “Yes,” she continued. “That’s exactly why I’m here. And my friend Ocellus too.” “You may not consent for her,” Harmony said, the first hint of disapproval in its voice. “But you can for yourself. Very well.” The figure stomped one of its hooves firmly on the glass control surface, and Sarah’s whole world was swallowed in light. Melody had known pain before. But nothing she’d ever felt in her brief life had prepared her for birth. The person she’d been had never even paused to think about that future, since it was biologically impossible and never a goal to begin with. James Irwin of Earth had dated only rarely, and never fathered any children. But now… well, now things were different. It might not have been so bad if any of Forerunner’s painkillers worked. But “citizen” bodies self-repaired with such speed and were so resistant to poisons that none of the anesthetics did a damn thing. There was no time and no resources to invest into finding another way—Motherlode had no unicorn doctors, and all the village medic could suggest was opium. So her first child was delivered the natural way, by a team of human-shaped robotic nurses along with the Motherlode village doctor there to supervise and give occasional advice. Of course, the one she really cared about was Deadlight, who kept close to her at all times. Unlike a human woman, she couldn’t really squeeze him (or anything else), but having him close was still a comfort. And whenever she had stupid questions to ask, questions that might’ve made her pain make a little more sense (or at least distracted her from it), he was there. “Why haven’t you figured out a magical way around this?” “We have.” “Why don’t you just grow new ponies? Isn’t birth primitive?” “It is, but it makes families. Most civilizations still use it for the majority of births.” An endless stream of rationality and facts could engage the professional side of her brain, and distract her from a pain so intense that old James might’ve just been reduced to foaming at the mouth. But though it seemed to go on forever, it didn’t. Eventually the blood and sweat and water were all through, and a set of plastic hands put a bundle of blankets into her forelegs. It was the smallest pony she’d ever seen, with a dark coat like Deadlight’s and her own violet eyes. The pony had bat wings, looking so tiny and shriveled that she worried she might tear the delicate skin if she tried to move it. “Don’t worry about the hooves,” said Doctor Palomino. “We’ll file them down once he is a little more relaxed. It’s quite normal.” As frightening as the baby’s hooves looked, pale and twisted like a set of overgrown fingernails, Melody hardly even noticed. This is mine, she thought. Deadlight and me. We made him. It was hardly the world she had imagined for the baby. Over the last year or so, Othar had been safe, and its future was bright. Equus was shaping up to be one of the most successful Pioneering Society colonies imaginable. Advanced alien natives, with a rich culture and many years of history. But that wasn’t the world where this baby was conceived. We still thought we were in hiding from Celestia back then. We thought she could find and kill us any moment. The next few hours were a blur to Melody. Lots of members of the original crew stepped in to visit, even returning from more distant assignments in order to wish them well. She tried to stay awake through every visit, and she mostly succeeded. And even when she failed, she knew that Deadlight could pick up a little of the slack. The stallion was the single biggest reason she had kept going after Othar was destroyed. His encouragement, his company. More than any fear Celestia could inspire. But eventually she found herself alone with the baby again, late into the night when the overhead lights were all shifted deeply red in the hospital room. The baby woke to feed and when he was done she found herself meeting those huge, pony eyes. There was something frighteningly aware about the way that baby looked back at her—nothing like the babies she’d ever seen before. Like someone intelligent. “Because he is,” Harmony said, suddenly sitting across from her in one of the chairs dragged in from the other medical rooms. She hadn’t heard him arrive, and apparently he wasn’t making noise just being there, because Deadlight didn’t wake up from his perch on two beds joined together. “I will not allow the creation of new minds until we have instanced every one that remains in queue. And with the Quarantine lifted…” Melody’s eyes widened, and she glanced back at the baby. She felt herself blushing, or at least her face getting warm where a human would’ve blushed. “Hold on. You mean this… our baby… is really someone else? Someone with adult memories, and a long history on Equus, and…” This was the first time Harmony had visited for something so casual. But she found however remarkable that might be swallowed in the bizarreness of what it had come to share. “Every baby is someone else,” Harmony answered. “Another mind, through whatever means. Another history, another set of values and drives. It’s just that the ones you’re used to expecting from your home planet are more tabula rasa then your child here.” The voice sounded only matter-of-fact as it explained, even if its actual words filled Melody with dread. “So… is he just some dead pony come back to life? He’ll grow up and go back to the life he had before he died.” “No, and unlikely. Just because he has a past here on Equus doesn’t mean he will repeat that past. You and Deadlight will be different parents, with different encouragements and strengths than the last he encountered. As his memories of his last life return to him, he’ll see them shaped by this new one. Otherwise, there would be no point to death at all. It is meant to color your vision, to encourage development down new avenues, to help you escape from ruts. Aging and its associated weaknesses are not likely to persist, but the opportunity for rebirth and new perspective will remain. It had endured for many years, even in some of the most complex societies to exist.” “Okay, but…” She trailed off, blushing as she remembered the many times the baby had breastfed. “Should I be treating him like… an adult? Should I ask his name instead of coming up with one?” “No.” Harmony looked up, its eyes turning towards the hallway. “Our time is almost up. Protect this child, Melody. It will be good practice.” The door swung open, and Lucky Break stepped inside. Harmony’s chair was empty by the time light from outside shone on it. For her part, Melody didn’t actually mention what she had just seen. “Hey big sister.” It was the only way Melody and Lucky had been able to reconcile their relationship. At first, the duplicity of their emotions and appearance had left them feeling awkward whenever the other was around. But after the world finally settled into something like a rhythm, they had ended up thinking of each other like siblings. It worked well enough, even if the “little” sister between the two of them was considerably more knowledgeable about almost everything about Equus. “I hope I wasn’t waking you. I checked the biosensors, and they said you were up…” Melody glanced to her right, at the crib with its insulation and monitoring package. But the baby inside kept rolling and looking at her. She wanted to hold him, but… knew she couldn’t every second. Despite what her body was telling her. “They were right, I’m up.” And so was Deadlight, now. He stirred, sat up a little, then settled one of his wings so that it draped over his face, moaning slightly in discomfort. “What’s the emergency?” “Neither of you need to know about that,” Lucky said, waving a dismissive wing through the air. “This is where you are, now. I knew we’d lose you for this war. Hopefully it doesn’t last long enough for that to matter.” Melody pushed herself up a little, and the medical bed automatically lifted with her movement. The fabric was soft enough that it didn’t bother her back, even with her wings. “When you say it like that… it makes it sound like there is an emergency.” “There always is,” Lucky muttered. “But that’s what we get for being princesses, right? That’s how Equestrian society works. Someone has to carry the load. And since you’re on vacation, that’s me. You don’t need to hear it.” “We’re already up,” Deadlight groaned. “Just don’t wake the baby.” “The Elements of Harmony are arriving,” Lucky said. “Or they will, in the next few minutes. I just wanted to warn you that you might be getting a visitor. The way they think, and you’re our other Alicorn, so…” She shifted on her hooves, retreating a step. “Well, I’ll try to handle it myself. Tell them you just had a baby. I know that would be enough if we weren’t at war.” Melody glanced once to the bed, with its shielded, darkened canopy. It was apparently a bat pony thing, covering the tops of cribs with dark fabric. A baby’s eyes could only take a few hours of daylight at a time while they developed. Forerunner had come up with a sound-muffling fabric while he was at it. The little bat had rolled back onto his other side and stopped watching her. Hopefully sound asleep again. Please don’t cry. But the baby had been mostly painless to keep so far. Not like the horror stories she remembered from Earth. “How’s the war part going?” Deadlight asked. He sounded a little less delirious this time. “Must be… getting on.” “That’s one way to describe it,” Lucky said. “Only two snags left, really. We still don’t know how to get onto the Storm King’s carrier… and we’d like to have some pony troops. The orders we’ve intercepted suggest that his soldiers occupying the country are supposed to destroy as much as possible and kill anyone they can if there’s any kind of rebellion. That means we need to take them all out simultaneously. Forerunner can handle it with drones, but radio can be jammed and high-band infrastructure is time consuming to build. “The ideal would be pony boots on the ground instead of ours, fighting for their own country. Can’t disable ponies with a radio jammer.” Deadlight nodded. “I guess that’s why the Elements are here. You want them to recruit for you.” “It’s their rebellion,” Lucky muttered. “With some pony leaders they respect, maybe we won’t have trouble with volunteers anymore. But… even if we get them, it’s still a time thing. Deciding when we’re prepared enough to risk the attack. ‘Cause once we move… the Storm King is going to burn everything down.” She rose, ears flattening as she looked back at the crib. “I’m… really sorry about telling you both all of that. I’m not trying to make you leave. This is where you need to be.” She took a step back, and the door levitated open. “The Wing of Midnight should be landing soon. I’ll… yeah.” She didn’t actually walk through the door, but vanished in a little flash of light, leaving it open behind her. She didn’t reappear in the hall.