//------------------------------// // Chapter 40: Polar Fate // Story: Luna is a Harsh Mistress // by Starscribe //------------------------------// The Alicorn air-armor changed everything for exploring their city. Silver could use the bubble spell just fine, but using it limited their time out to his endurance. The longer they stayed in a bubble, the more stale that air would become. It was why his ancestors had been forced to restrict themselves to short trips, so the air within could be refreshed. The armor required none of that, though it did have a dial of “filter entropy” that dropped whenever he was outside and rose again when he left the suit in the library. There would be no returning to Moonrise until night came, and the protection of the aching cold that would make their discovery unlikely. Silver had set the very first night as their deadline to return—as much because of the atrocities taking place as his dwindling food supply. A search of the Sacred City could lead them to many incredible things, but not food. Even with the great inventions of the Alicorns, Silver wouldn’t trust eating anything they’d left behind for a thousand years or more. “You should be further by now,” Magpie said, landing on his workbench beside the skeletal wing. The workbench was populated entirely with Alicorn tools, which the library had helped him find. True Lunarium could be worked only within the auspices of the finest unicorn forgemasters—or apparently with something the Alicorns called a “plasma-arc foundry.” “Seriously, these are just bones. There’s no way to make them move. When does the magic come in?” She nudged at the wing with one hoof, causing its jointed bones to move slightly backward. It went as far as the natural range of moment of any bat wing, then sprung back into place. Her eyes kept darting back towards the flame, without ever getting close enough to touch it. “This is the hardest part,” he said, flipping up his polarized visor and switching off the foundry. The warmth radiating from within died immediately, and he turned to glare at her. “The library says you shouldn’t look at it while I’m working. I can’t make metal eyes for you, you know. You need to protect the ones you have.” Magpie scoffed, exposing her little pointed fangs, before hopping down beside him. “Hardest part? Didn’t you just copy my wing? There’s nothing hard about copying bones.” Silver’s teeth ground together, and he turned slowly to face her. “These aren’t just bones. They’re joints. Getting joints that bend the same way as yours and can hold up half your body when you’re flying isn’t easy. You’re half the size of a real bat, that means I have half the space to work with.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” She yanked him down with a hoof, pulling on the collar of his air-armor. He rarely took it off, except when he was sleeping or washing it. “I’m full grown, Silver. I was the tallest pegasus in my family.” She let go of him, posing. “I probably would’ve had foals if it wasn’t for the war.” Silver would’ve sworn she was taunting him then, with the way she held her tail up behind her like that. Don’t even think about it, Silver. You’re not the First Commander, and that’s no Penumbra. We’ve got a city to liberate, remember? He turned pointedly back to his work, flipping his mask down with a jerk of his head so she couldn’t see his expression. “I’ve been doing what I said. Whenever we’re not out searching the city, I’m working on your wing. I’ll have it ready by the time we get back to Moonrise, okay? Isn’t that enough?” He didn’t see wherever she moved next and couldn’t even hear her steps. But suddenly she was on the other side of his bench, standing on a chair so she was at eye level. “If you focused on the wing, I could be flying again before we even went back. Then you could use all the time after that to explore all you want.” He closed his eyes, counting slowly from five. “I’ve already explained, Magpie. I can’t put the wing on you. Making it is hard enough. I was a colt when my father was a craftspony. I’m…” Mostly improvising and letting Vanaheimr tell me how their machines work. “Already working quickly. But I’m not a surgeon. You don’t want me to cut into your wing, I wouldn’t know what I’m doing. There’s no point finishing the wing before we go back to Moonrise, because only in Moonrise will we find anypony who can attach it anyway.” And even that’s a gamble. We’re going to have to find something bucking valuable in these ruins to make a chop-shop pony willing to risk cutting into a Voidseeker. He hadn’t said as much, because any suggestion that the favor wouldn’t be repaid made Magpie incredibly upset. But he’d been keeping his eyes open every time they traveled for something valuable to use in trade. Without success. “Fine.” She slumped to the table, closing her eyes. “But the hard part is already done, right? All that’s left now is… skin?” “No.” He pushed up the mask again, mostly by reflex. “Now I need to do some spelling, so the wing moves with your existing one. The ancients would probably build machines for it… but I couldn’t do that if I studied here for a century. So magic it’s going to have to be. I haven’t come up with a way to keep it powered, since you’re…” “Since I’m a corpse,” she finished for him. “No life-force. No eternal glowing necklaces for the Voidseeker. You’re right about that, by the way. Nightmare Moon already tried to cheat that to give us, like… her Lord Commander’s armor. But once the charge runs out, it just… stops.” “So the wing will need another power source,” he continued. “Heat is our best option. If you’re in the city, you won’t care if it feels cold, you’re dead. And if you’re on the surface, just leave it out in the sun.” Magpie froze, expression suddenly hard. Or… was that pain? “Won’t work,” she said, ears flattening. “We can’t be out in the sun. Nightmares come to sleeping ponies at night, while they sleep. During the day…” She gestured with one hoof, turning it horizontal in front of him. “If the sun touches you, you’re dead until the full moon. Like… dead dead.” She vanished, reappearing moments later with her threadbare cloak. “Why do you think we wore so much? Or why we didn’t fight during the day. A single cut, an inch of wing slips out, and…” “Oh.” He shuddered at the thought. “You… know what it’s like?” “I know I’m done talking about it,” she said, vanishing again. I should probably find a way to turn the lights on in here and stop her from doing that. Silver sat back in his quiet corner of the second floor, surrounded by his collected tools and boxes of scrap metal. At least coming here meant they didn’t have to plunder the armor of the Purples for True Lunarium. Once he’d figured out that the Alicorns had their own name for it, he had as much Titanium as he needed. But he didn’t feel like working on this project for much longer. The city was still calling to him, begging him to discover its secrets. After tinkering with the foundry for a few moments more, he switched it off again, tossed his mask aside, and started packing up the wing. He probably should’ve started cutting up a suit by now to use for fabric, but he still hadn’t managed to. The idea of destroying air-armor built by the Alicorns hurt too much. He grabbed a satchel, then carefully folded the wing inside, along with a knife and a measuring tape. Eventually they’d find something else strong enough to use for the wing, and when they did he’d be ready. Of course Magpie was by the door, watching him on the other side of an empty glass shelf as he picked up the helmet of his air-armor. It made a faint hissing sound when it reattached, then settled over his head. Not quite glass, it stayed flexible enough for him to adjust it if he had to. Yet it held in the pressure, while remaining as clear as the finest telescope.  “You’re going back out already?” Magpie asked, her voice slightly muffled. When there was air on both sides, they could still talk. But there wouldn’t be where they were going, which was likely the source of her frustration. “You know I have to come with you.” “You don’t have to,” he argued, though without much energy. There was no point when she was so convinced about it. As if there would be weapons and defenses in a library. “But yes, I’m exploring again. I still need to find the…” He waved a hoof through the air. “The thing. That makes the difference for us. The thing that lets us fight back.” She rose, following him. “I could stop you from leaving if I wanted. As long as I wanted. You can’t fight me.” “You can’t fight either, remember?” he said. “You’re a thief, not a real assassin.” She stuck her tongue out, right up against the helmet. “Well I wouldn’t fight you by fighting. All I’d have to do is hide that helmet somewhere, and then—” “I’d use an air-spell.” He started walking again. “I told you, if you want to talk to me while we’re out, you could wear a suit yourself. Then you could touch helmets, and the air would let us talk back and forth. I’d like it better that way too.” She shifted uneasily, falling behind as he approached the airlock. “I don’t know if my clothes would try to kill me. You wouldn’t want to live with that pressure either, Silver. Those things have magic in them, I’m telling you. The Alicorns made their city kill creatures like me. You say the suit will make it ignore me—I say the suit has weapons in it. We can die, and it’s not something I’m keen to experience. I’ll go without.” He stepped into the airlock, holding it open for her with a hoof. “Then let’s go. We’ve only got five days before nightfall. I’m going to make them count.” Perhaps to a trained Gatecrasher, there was some semblance of order to be extracted in the way that the great Alicorns arranged their city. Maybe it was arranged according to cosmic truths, or the constellations whirling above.  But Silver Star wasn’t a Gatecrasher, not even the lowliest assistant to one. He might be able to fumble together some metal to look vaguely like a wing, but he couldn’t make sense of the city. The most infuriating part was having the library behind them. The entombed spirit could answer any question he could think to ask, so long as it was incredibly precise. “Where can I find a latrine?” A concrete destination, answer given. “Help me find a weapon I can use to kill an evil general” returned only silence. Even a simpler “Where are the weapons?” returned a query for more information. It was almost as though the library was intentionally evading him, answering questions only when it wanted him to learn. And it didn’t want him to know about war. Who attacked this city? Database connection not available. Where is the armory? Polestar. Were there any survivors? There is one living creature in the library at this time. As Silver crossed through the towering structures, he turned over the spirit in his mind, imagining what new ways he might ask for its help. This is probably what the Gatecrashers did here all the time, asking questions until it told them things they could use. New developments from Vanheimr hadn’t come quickly, even when the guild still existed. His father had been quite clear about that. That was partly why the princess had let them be shut down. And now I know why. But somehow I have to do things differently. Normally Silver spent his time climbing as high as he could, reasoning that if it was built like Moonrise (or rather, the other way around), then the most important things would obviously be the highest up. But climbing high rarely found anything interesting. Often there were broken machines, or entire structures crumbled and collapsed with debris. But one of them would eventually lead to his answers. Today he was in a strange mood, and he didn’t want to stop walking. He could see Magpie’s big eyes behind him, looking hurt whenever she didn’t think he was watching. Before they’d been friends, but now—what had he said to get her so angry with him? So instead of finding a doorway he hadn’t marked with chalk, he turned towards the stairwells leading to nowhere. Wide meant important, so maybe there was something lower that he’d missed. And while he walked, he was entirely alone with his thoughts, and the quiet clicks of his own hooves against the cement, echoing in his helmet. What can I even do? What if the library stopped trying to hide from me, what would I ask? Magpie said she didn’t know how to fight, that she was just a thief. But she’d also spent most of the Lunar Rebellion at Nightmare Moon’s right hoof. Even if she didn’t know how to swing a sword herself… They came to another door, so massive that he momentarily thought it was a wall. Dull metal, like a massive gear. It’s a security door. There’s something important on the other side. Magpie touched his shoulder, pulling him back with both hooves. She yanked hard—yet his suit went rigid, and barely compressed under her touch. Her intention was obvious in her face, even if he couldn’t read lips. She didn’t want him to open that door. He almost turned to obey, except—something in him didn’t want to. If Vanaheimr had any weapons in it, then surely they’d be protected. Maybe they’d been kept so safe that the invaders hadn’t looted them. Obviously no Alicorn weapons had made their way into Moonrise, or he would’ve heard about them. Every officer liked to brag about their sword, or the quality of their new rifle. How many shots it could fire before the plastic bullets inevitably jammed it. I won’t try that hard. She doesn’t like my kind of teleporting. I’ll just… He reached out and touched the side of the door the way he’d done to a dozen others before it. Sometimes doors opened for him when he touched the black thing, sometimes they didn’t.  This one did. It rumbled and hissed, blasting back the dust around the entrance. There’s atmosphere in there. Not only that, but the lights inside were completely intact, the wall undamaged by weapons. Like this section of the city had somehow come forward in time. It was clearly an airlock, brightly lit from all sides with even spotlights almost as bright as the sun. He gestured, stepping inside. “Come on,” he said, knowing full well she wouldn’t be able to hear. But he suspected she could read lips. She’d been doing it for hundreds of years to talk to the other Voidseekers, after all. She backed away from him, as close to the ramp leading away as she could. But she also didn’t want to be away from him. As soon as he made for the door, she hurried to follow, clearly furious with him. “Trust me,” he said, speaking slowly and clearly for her to see. “I know you’re afraid. But this place hasn’t hurt us yet. If it tries, I’ll teleport us back to the library.” He could see her doubt, but he ignored it. The massive door didn’t care about her standing halfway in it, beginning to retract. She jumped forward, glaring at him. Then something hissed around them. Fog billowed, collecting to vapor that pooled around their hooves. His hearing outside gradually returned, and the air-armor proclaimed: “Exterior atmosphere detected. Carbon capacitor disengaged.”  “You’re going to get me killed, Silver. I swear I’m going to start believing in souls again just so I can come back and haunt you. I’ll make food spoil and all your fancy machines will break when you touch them. I’ll—” He rested an armored hoof on her shoulder, ignoring the sound of machinery in motion. “Relax, Magpie. If this place wanted to attack you, it would’ve attacked by now. It’s not, see? You’re fine. If this thing didn’t want you in here, all it had to do was not open. It’s letting us in!” She shook visibly with fear. “You kn-know how a pony survives as long as I have, Silver? She’s buckin’ careful. This is not careful. This is inviting the Alicorns to kill us. Reading from their library was one thing and taking bits of metal. But we’re going too far.” “Why?” She was getting through to him now, her horror obvious on her face. “Why should they care about this locked door that they opened, instead of all the others?” “You don’t feel it?” Magpie asked, pointing ahead. The second airlock door began to open, a much smaller version of the same basic design. Just as thick, but now maybe tall enough for the princess to pass through. “It’s here. The city, its… heart. It’s through here. If you’d left when I said, we could’ve gone back to the library!” Its heart. He could take them back right now, yet… how could he leave such a tantalizing target? If the spirit in the library wouldn’t share its secrets with them, maybe this would. Light spilled in from the other side, so bright that Magpie pulled up her cloak and Silver’s helmet polarized. The world darkened, turning the airlock into gloom by comparison. “You could stay behind,” he said. “But I have to see it.” Was she crying? He didn’t look—couldn’t bear to look. He had to keep going. Up another short ramp, and he stood in a space unlike anything in Moonrise. Towers perhaps twice the size of a pony rose around the room, each one covered in lights and little machines. Vapor collected around his hooves, obscuring the floor, but it hadn’t condensed on any of the glass. There was another slope on the far side of the room, leading towards… a magical field. A shield spell, so powerful that his horn went numb if he looked at it. That magic is stronger than the princess. And in the very center of the room—its obvious centerpiece—was a pedestal, with a sphere levitating just above it. Light streamed in from above, where a skylight shone all the way up to the stars. The sphere seemed to hum, calling to him. Demanding him. “Measurements will be quantized. Account and rectify.” You’re talking to me? he thought back, taking another step into the light. He left no shadow behind him, though he couldn’t have said where the light was coming from. What are you? “Cognitive Singularity. Designation: Polestar.” If only that made any sense. Maybe if he’d grown up where he belonged, or if he was with a crew of Gatecrashers. They might be able to make sense of all that. The light before him shifted, changing from an even white glow to something as red as blood. The room all around him went dark, except for a brilliant beam emanating from the crystal, pointed straight back. It landed on Magpie, lurking near the now-closed airlock. “Armory inviolate. Intrusion, sterilize.”