//------------------------------// // The Unseen // Story: Team Quantum // by Impossible Numbers //------------------------------// Moondancer had stopped trying to yell through the gag long ago; now her throat was sore and dry. Chains clanked when she shifted her legs. Irritably, she levitated the links and yanked hard and stretched that little bit further. Around her, metal parts lay scattered. Some had been piled up against the far wall. Only this wall was not the curving, dark interior of her room, but built of bricks which glowed around the torch brackets. The flickering red prison gave her far more space, which was cruel considering what she’d lost. Overhead, however, the square of darkness showed her the stars. She stopped and looked up, her eye drawn to the watchtowers in the corners. Someone coughed nearby. At once, her mind returned to the ground. She shuffled over to the blueprints. “I’m sorry you’re here,” said a voice behind her. Moondancer ignored him. Burying herself in work was better than anything else right now. “I swear, if I could do anything, I would.” Bubbling rage seeped through her. “Just… Just go along with it, OK? No one’s gonna get hurt. I promise.” A flap of wings: instantly, her rage froze over. She didn’t dare turn around, not even when the two clawed feet slammed onto the stone floor. “You guarding her, Peewee,” said the deep voice that crept up through her shaking legs, “or waiting to give her a hug? Ha!” Moondancer picked up a pencil and traced the lines across the blue paper, trying not to breathe. “Garble!” said the one called “Peewee”. He laughed nervously. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here! What a nice surprise!” “Can it, pony-lover. I wouldn’t be here at all, except my so-called master wanted to pay a visit. And stay the heck away from me. I don’t want your pony cooties.” Moondancer clenched her jaw. Nonetheless, she didn’t dare turn around. Taking an interest might be terminal; the big dragon had made unpleasant comments to her on her way here. Which was slowly turning her mind inside-out, because she couldn’t remember how she’d gotten here. There’d been the smash of tiles and the rush of air, and her insides had thrown themselves downwards, but the big dragon had covered her eyes the whole time, and then she’d felt as though she were being stretched in all directions at once – she’d actually cried out. She’d feared her head and limbs were popping themselves out of place… Then nothing. Then the rush of wind again. Next thing, they’d landed in this castle. She only knew that because the dragon had landed with a thump and uncovered her eyes, chained her up, and left. There had been all this junk. Waiting for her. She’d only had a few minutes… or hours… or maybe even days. She couldn’t tell. Then this other – this baby – dragon had showed up. By then, she’d examined the notes. No one had told her what to do, but the designs on the prints were obvious to a mind like hers. On top of the thing, she pencilled the word: “Manifold?” Hooves tapped the stonework. She heard a male voice murmuring. “What’s that, master?” Garble’s claws clicked over the stonework. “Wanna run that by me again?” “NO!” squealed the unseen stallion. Moondancer prickled with sweat. “No. I, uh, had an invitation…” “I know, you idiot. I just carried you here. Isn’t that what I just did?” The stallion murmured again. Aloud, he added, “Did you… leave any evidence?” Garble heaved his lungs with the irritated sigh; smoky tangs filled Moondancer’s nostrils for a moment before he spoke. “What do you take me for, pony? Course I didn’t! All that’s left is a smoking room and a whole lot of ashes.” The nerve of him! Moondancer bared her teeth. Apollo’s Peak had been the best thing to home. She’d spent hours there. The place had always tickled her nose with its subtle scents. Bile rose up. Hoping to banish the dirty feeling clinging to her insides, she took a deep breath. The nerve of him! He’ll pay! They’ll all pay! Of course, she was a lot braver in her head than out of it. And a fourth voice clipped the conversation. “That’ll do, Garble.” So badly did Moondancer want to turn around. She wanted names, faces, anything… “Fire does not destroy everything, Garble,” continued the clipped voice. There were no footsteps, no shuffling, nothing but a voice so stern that it might have been a deep female’s or a rumbling male’s. No, Moondancer… don’t say anything… focus on staying alive… “Destroys most things,” muttered Garble sullenly. “Nevertheless.” Gibbering, the stallion stepped forwards, his voice rushing out. “This is going too far! Look, I’m happy with the dragon, but this!? I can’t get involved in all this! I’m a respectable citizen!” The silence was poison. On the blueprints, Moondancer pencilled in more geometric shapes. Ah, but she couldn’t work with just paper. She needed calculations. Models. A prototype. She cocked an ear. Much as she wanted to pummel the big dragon Garble into a mash of scales, she also wanted to examine the remains afterwards. If she only knew how he’d grown to such a size. No jurisdiction would have permitted it. Or maybe they had. Maybe there was a loophole. Even so, to risk so much was enough to make her mind gape. That is, if he hadn’t laughed as her home burned. Yes, home. Apollo’s Peak had been a dark little corner of the world, cut off from sunlight, but she cared for no other, and he’d laughed. Lips parted with a sickly tearing sound. “You wish to forfeit?” said the clipped, stern voice. “It wasn’t so bad when he was working,” said the stallion, his voice trembling. “I got nothing against him working for me. I swear, I’m not grateful, I owe a lot to you, pleasure to have him around really, no nicer guy, but… but kidnapping ponies? I can’t. I can’t! I just can’t DO it!” An unseen nose snorted. “For shame! You, of all ponies, growing a conscience?” “Not that! No! Stuff that! What about my business, though? If word of this gets out, I dunno what I’ll do!” Once again, that silence slowly killed the air. Only the torches crackled. “No vision,” declared the stern voice. “No patience whatsoever. Has it not occurred to you, pony –” at this, Garble chuckled “– that it is impossible for anyone to find out about Moondancer’s work here? What are you afraid of? She is here, she cannot escape, no one even knows this place exists, let alone could penetrate its defences, and everyone else has a vested interest in keeping her happily contained.” “But –” “Lack of ambition! You have one of the greatest dragons on your side, and you’re content with bigger profit margins? Where is your pride, pony? No, you will simply do as you’re told. There is no other way.” “It’s not worth all this! What if someone finds out about my dragon?” “Garble? No one will find him.” “He’s an enormous dragon!” The stern voice sighed. “Garble?” “Yeah?” said Garble. “Your master wishes for you to remain stealthy. Have you followed his wishes?” “Heck, yeah! You think I don’t know how to sneak?” To Moondancer’s surprise, the stern voice chuckled at this. It was as if they were playing a game. “Now, pony,” the voice continued. “Can you argue with that?” After a silence dying painfully, the stallion muttered, “No…” “Well, then. Take heart! Keep on course! You believe you’re doing splendidly as you are now. Thanks to me, you will not merely survive. You’ll thrive.” The stallion gulped. “Uh huh?” “Yes,” purred the voice. “Consider this; your business need not rely only on enhanced productivity. In Garble, you have the perfect tool for many other operations as well. Guided by me, as you would expect.” “Like what? Just tell me that.” Relishing the word, the stern voice rolled out: “Sabotage.” Moondancer writhed with discomfort. When the stallion next spoke, his tone was infected with delight. “Sabotage?” “Yes.” “Hm… I could do without one or two other ponies mucking things up, yeah…” “Good. I’m glad you think that,” said the stern voice, and now thunder rumbled through its tones. “Because it pains me to think you might not be committed enough to our plans. Stupid pony! Were it not the case that a dragon needs a master, you would be nothing to me! And if you continue to act like this is a friendly opt-in plan, I assure you that Garble here will not hesitate!” “What!? What!? What!? But… But I’m his master!” “A replacement could be arranged!” “Now see here –” “Think, pony! Think! You sincerely believe he would obey you if you ordered him to attack me? Here? In this realm? No, I only need your assistance in the other realm. So long as the conditions hold, you will serve your role. Garble does not answer only to you.” “You’re bluffing!” Moondancer closed her eyes tightly. She’d never been a superstitious unicorn, but a sudden premonition gripped her in its cold claws and held her in place. Coolly, the stern voice said, “Garble?” “Yeah?” “Take this bit of filth up high and then drop him.” “With pleasure.” The screams battered Moondancer left and right. Bracing her teeth, she shrank where she stood. Her pencil clattered on the stone under the screaming, the yelling, and the sudden flapping of wings. “NO! NO! Call him OFF! CALL HIM OFF!” “Garble?” called the stern voice. “What?” “Countermanded. Put the little pony back on the ground, please.” Grumbling followed. Moondancer gasped and breathed heavily. Hot gazes sizzled along her flanks. Shakily, she levitated the pencil and scrawled some random symbols, trying to fight them into order. “Thank you, Garble. We don’t want to upset our – aha – guest, after all.” Rage and shame warred in the depths of Moondancer’s heart. If I get out of this alive, I swear I’m never going to be on my own again. Do the others even know I’m gone yet? I know I don’t spend that much time with them, but they’re still my friends, aren’t they? Sobbing broke out; the stallion thumped onto the ground. “Oh, do get up, pony.” The stern voice sniffed impatiently. “Rough as always, Garble.” “It’s what I do,” said Garble with false modesty. The sobbing died away. “Marvellous. Spike, come over here. You could learn something from this magnificent specimen. In any case, it’s time for your new instructions. I have summoned you both here because you have proven yourselves worthy of these next tasks.” Claws skittered over the stones. “Spike, you and your friends shall perform a – aha – a ‘test run’. You know the targets and the means. Use your skills wisely.” Spike’s breathing was that of a child panicking. For a fleeting moment, Moondancer’s heart twisted. “No! Please, no! I’ll do anything! That’s –” “Spike! This is not a negotiation! You are bound by the magical obligation. At least act with some dignity.” The little dragon’s gasping became desperate, rasping at his lungs. Overhead, Garble chuckled. “W-W-Will do,” Spike stammered. “Good boy. Perform well, and I will select you to be my number one assistant. Consider it a high honour. Garble?” “Ready as always!” said Garble. “Assist him however you can. Make sure there are no witnesses. If anyone gets too nosy, then their existence is forfeit.” “Wait. That means kidnapping them, right?” “If possible. But the stakes are high. Kidnapping may not be enough. Should it come to that, you know what to do.” “All right! Haha!” “Now, be gone – NO, Spike! Not another word! We have now officially entered the next phase. Remember; the future depends on how you act now. Act well. Act decisively. Be gone!” Claws skittered. Wings flapped. The sudden wailing of the stallion rose up and died away. Then… silence. Moondancer dropped the pencil. She didn’t dare turn around yet. Someone was breathing, ever so quietly. “Moondancer,” said the stern voice, amusement rumbling through its tones, “I imagine you have a lot of questions. Uppermost, I imagine, is why we’re so flippant about our plan when inquisitive ears are around. Your ears, to be precise.” To her own surprise, Moondancer hadn’t. Such an obvious question to ask, now she thought about it! Then the shame swarmed among her insides. She bit her lip under the gag. Moondancer never thinks of other ponies. That’s why. Calmly, the voice continued. “The reason is simple. This location is convenient for everything. More to the point, you will never escape this castle. No one comes in here without my leave, and no one with my leave will offer you a glimmer of hope. Most of all, you have no future left beyond these walls. There will be no naughty sneaking off to tell anyone about our plans. We are not fools.” Moondancer’s gaze drifted down to the scattered metal pieces. Some of them looked weighty. Perhaps if she was quick, her spell would throw them hard enough to knock that hidden presence over. Knock it unconscious, or trap it under the weight. “So why do anything I say, I hear you ask?” The stern voice pricked the back of her neck like a knife. “Simple. You will be destroyed whatever you do. Your friends will survive if you succeed.” Under the gag, Moondancer growled. Some of the metal sparkled. Her magic welled up on the rising fury. “And if you don’t succeed,” said the voice, delight tripping on every consonant, “all of your friends will be instantly and humorously destroyed.” Roaring yet muffled, Moondancer spun around – – and something gripped her horn. Barely had she noticed the blinding light of a figure moving when pain squeezed the tender tip and stabbed down. She yelled. Metal crashed. Her knees hit the stone, and the stone sapped her strength, and she yelled again before the after-pain stung harder. The stern voice sniffed imperiously. “And they call you the cream of the crop. Oh well. Better luck next time, my dear.” Through the pain, Moondancer saw a mist close over them. Drops of condensation clung to her, and her face twitched under the prickle of dew. The glow of the thing before her faded away, taking the mist with it. Whatever had gripped her horn was now gone. By the time she was strong enough to focus her eyes again, the prison was empty. Torches crackled on. Stars twinkled overhead. Otherwise, the darkness was her only friend. Eyes raw and hot, she tried to coax her magic back. No feeling in her horn. No pain. No energy. Nothing. Soon, the magic did return, stiff as an unused limb. Moondancer stood on all four hooves again. Coldness clung to her knees. She turned back to the blueprint, wincing. They just signed their own death warrants. No one touches my friends. She scrawled more equations on the paper. More than once, she had to stop herself halfway through doodling revenge plots. Many of those involved blasting a stick figure dragon. Thoughts crossed her mind. Daring thoughts. On one corner, she scribbled a few lines. Twilight had taught her this code once. They’d invented it together. The cunning part was that, even to an outsider well-versed in mathematical symbols and functions, this code lurked out of reach of understanding. It was Twilight who’d given it her own special touch. Grinning despite her sore eyes, Moondancer turned back to the main schematic. The implied message of those symbols was obvious; build this device. She looked around at the metal parts. She looked back at the schematic. Half of the page was covered, but the other half had been open for her to scrawl and scribble on it. Not even a challenge. Only… why don’t they want me to build the whole device?