Silver Star walked away from Magpie, knowing that at any moment the Polestar might decide to kill her. There was nothing he could do—nothing beyond the threats he had already made. And I still don’t know why it wants me working for it. He wasn’t surprised the Polestar hadn’t volunteered. The less he knew about its desires, the less pressure he could put on it.
If it keeps its word and doesn’t hurt her, I don’t care. He approached the shimmering field, the shield more powerful than anything he’d ever seen. The kind of magic he could spend his entire life trying to defy, and never succeed. A little like the princess and getting us home. She couldn’t do that either.
“You may proceed,” the Polestar explained. “You will be led to the objects you require. Touch nothing else, or the arrangement with your friend will be forfeit.”
I should probably remember this thing can read my thoughts. He faced into the power of the shield for a few moments more, feeling the overwhelming magical energy radiating off from inside. Then he stepped forward, passing through. The power bent and curved around him, swallowing his whole body. He closed his eyes as his head passed through, half expecting the air-armor to be melted right off him. But no—he ultimately felt nothing. Probably instant death if I tried to break through that. Good thing it wants me here.
On the other side of the shield was a ramp leading to another rolling door, covered with a reflective silver… paint? The entire area was reflective, dazzling him and making it difficult to focus on anything. But he didn’t slip, and the bottom of the ramp wasn’t much further.
The door ground open ahead of him, shaking the floor at his hooves. Inside was a surprisingly tall space, enough that another pony could’ve rested on his shoulders and not scraped their horn on the ceiling. “You stand in the Armory, Silver. You have not come to take its greatest prize, but two of its lesser mysteries.”
Mysteries, even to you? Without telling him where to go, Silver still knew where he was supposed to walk. It was the same sensation that had led him to the Polestar, a need to be somewhere else, pressure to obey without actually dragging his hooves along. This time he did.
The armory might be tall, but there wasn’t much area in here. There were little metal boxes along the wall, what he took for the Alicorn equivalent of safes. They ran the whole length of the room, with a solid block of metal in the center forming more storage space. He made his way towards one of them, labeled with a strange, haphazard scrawl and a slip of paper. He had been able to read everything in the city so far, understand the library—but he couldn’t understand this.
“The universe is vast. Most who reach the stars wish to communicate with one another, but practical difficulties often make it impossible. Many of the last Alicorns left alive formed the population that founded this colony. They took with them great treasures, and none was greater than their relics of alien contact. Many of the objects stored within have arcane purposes known only to their creators—the merely ceremonial objects have long since rotted in ancient museums.
But while the principles that allow many of these devices to function are incomprehensible, the functions of some are known.” The metal door clicked, swinging open in front of him. Despite the size of the safe from the outside, there was almost nothing inside. A handful of little glass vials, each one with a clear shard of… crystal?
“What is this?”
“An arrangement honored. Remove only one, do not break the glass. Levitate it carefully.”
He obeyed, lifting it into the air and bringing it closer to his face. Close enough to squint inside, anyway. There wasn’t much more to see, except that the crystal was probably a soft blue. The air within was also discolored, a faintly yellow gas. The vial itself seemed totally sealed, as though its creators had somehow blown it into a perfect jar without a lid. “That’s vague.”
“You will observe its purpose when you invoke it. Retain it in your control and continue.”
He obeyed, resisting the urge to argue. It felt like he was walking through some sacred temple, where a pony of such a lowly color had no right to be. Anything he said in here might anger his patron. He kept his focus on the little vial, easier to do with no other spells to maintain. Its little shard of crystal sparkled in the faint white lights set into the floor.
“A weapon is required to guarantee your success. The colony’s present regime is unsustainable and on a downward spiral towards collapse. Only violence can halt that collapse.”
At least they agreed. Either that, or maybe his impressions of the colony had come from Polestar to begin with. Can you only project into my thoughts when I’m here? Have you been controlling me my whole life?
The safe he was heading towards now was larger than many of the others, though nowhere near as large as the strange cube set into the back wall. That one had its own little shield, protecting it from the rest of the armory. Under other circumstances, he’d probably want to know what was inside. But now he had so many bigger things to worry about he barely even considered the question.
“Direct control is permitted only when an existential threat is encountered. It would not be permissible at all, if you were an advanced race. You were a vessel for observation, and observation was what took place. In only two ways were you ever interfered with.
He stopped dead, only a few paces from the second safe. “What ways were those?”
“Recall your immunity to cold. Now you know its source. This is not the place for this inquiry. Every moment the security of the Armory is relaxed, the chance of compromise grows.” Another safe opened, the one directly in front of him. The door slid down this time, revealing… a gun?
It resembled a rifle in basic shape, with a long barrel and fatter end where the machinery of firing was stored. But nothing else seemed familiar. There was no firing pan, no place for the fuse to burn. The metal was so dark that he wouldn’t have been able to make out the dimensions of the gun at all, except for the silvery filigree. Or… maybe it was functional? It seemed to glow, but only in the places his eyes were focused on.
“In primitive societies, all authority is ultimately derived from violence. If you desire a future for Moonrise, you must be the master of that violence, so that something better can be built in its place. Delay in the hopes you would advance on your own has proven mistaken. Direct intervention is required.”
Where are the bullets and powder? I assume you’re going to show me how it works?
It didn’t look like something made for a pony, which made sense. The trigger had a little metal loop around it and was so small not even a foal could fit their hoof inside. There was no hardware for a bat to fire it, as he’d expect from anything made for the military. If he wasn’t a unicorn, he wouldn’t be able to use this.
He lifted the gun in his magic or started to. Its weight caught him by surprise, more than even a lump of solid steel would’ve weighed. He took another step back, gritted his teeth, then lifted.
The gun responded. It started to hum, its nearly black metallic surface shifting and changing until it was the same color as his coat. I bet a pegasus couldn’t even lift this. What kind of gun needs to be so heavy?
“The weapon is already loaded. There is no additional ammunition, nor do we have the capacity to create more. Proceed swiftly from the Armory. Your friend is waiting for your return.”
And she was probably overwhelmed with anxiety. He glanced briefly at the other sealed vaults, wondering what mysteries each might contain—then he hurried forward, where the entrance was still open. He held both objects beside him, having to move even slower than the suit’s usual restrictions thanks to the concentration it took to hold the gun.
“How can I liberate Moonrise with one bullet? There are two generals between me and meeting the princess—should I wait for them to stand in a line?”
“No. The weapon has a magazine of significant size, though you will not be using it to fight all who oppose you. It is meant only for forces you could not overcome in any other way. Its power could easily destroy the colony. Enormous trust weighs on your shoulders.”
“You better tell me how to use it before I go back, then.” Not that he understood how one rifle could be a risk to an entire colony, but he wasn’t going to ask. Worry over Magpie put that on standby. He didn’t think for a second that Polestar would forget about the requirements it imposed.
He passed through the shield on the other side without fanfare. The rifle and little glass vial came through too, his magic somehow undisrupted despite the incredible power of the protection.
“So now we leave? I take all this, and… bring it back to Moonrise, when the time comes?” He sped up as he left the shield behind, as though he could run all the way out of the Polestar’s chamber without being stopped. An entirely doomed belief, but he hurried anyway. You hated having Nightmare able to take and use you whenever it wanted? Our positions are about to be reversed. Polestar said it didn’t puppet him directly. But would he ever be able to know that for sure?
He went all the way to the door, past the stone in the center of the room. The interior airlock door had opened automatically for him last time. “Come on, Magpie. We’re leaving now.”
The door didn’t move, not so much as a single inch along its gears. “You are not finished. Her corruption is contained for now, but outside of this room it might turn against you. Your companion is the only creature who might take it from you. That cannot be permitted.”
“We’re not,” Magpie said. She sat up against one of the towers now, looking grim. “It still has to kill me, Silver. I know it’s convinced you, but… hopefully you’ll see. When you get out of here, maybe you’ll take better care of yourself. Enjoy your short little lifetime. Use what you’ve learned to become important… don’t throw your life away.” She sounded so resolved, like she’d been dead for hours already.
Every word was a little knife in his gut. She thinks I murdered her, and she’s forgiving. Can’t you see how little control Nightmare has over her?
But Polestar was unyielding. “Set the weapon down and give your friend the vial. She will open the vial, and you will remain far away. If you touch her in any way, you will violate our arrangement and your companion will be sterilized. It is still possible that even without Nightmare’s influence, she may’ve been conditioned to act in its interests. Comply, or necessary countermeasures will be employed.”
He settled the rifle down, careful enough that he wouldn’t scratch the paint. If it… had any. Somehow he doubted anything made by unknowable aliens would need it. He stopped in front of Magpie, lowering his voice to a whisper. “It’s not going to kill you. It had me… get something out of the vault for you, in there.”
He held up the glass vial, right in front of her. “You said yourself that Polestar killed half the Voidseekers, right? Would it need to get something special for you if it just wanted you dead?”
She glared defiantly up at him. “To fool you into doing its bidding. That’s just… a more complicated way to do the same thing. Maybe it thinks if it kills me sideways instead of looking me in the face then it will keep you as its slave.”
“No,” he said, loud enough that she jerked. “If you die, I swear never to do anything that Polestar wants. I’ll fight it for the rest of my life. Maybe I’ll take the magic rifle it gave me and shoot it.”
That provoked an instant response. “You requested flight. To grant this request, attach your wing skeleton to the damaged joint. The patch-sealer in your emergency kit should do the job adequately.”
“What emergency kit?” He spun once, before feeling the Polestar’s influence again. This time it drew him down to one of the bulges on the back of his suit. He hadn’t known what it did, but now… he pressed on it with his magic, and the pouch opened. A few objects spilled out—a tiny knife, a roll of tape, a vial of bright green fluid. And a larger cylinder with a resealable top. “Emergency patch filler” it said, in writing he could read again.
He lifted it out, replacing the other tiny objects. So small I didn’t even feel them there. “The Polestar is going to fix your wing,” he explained. “As part of this process. I don’t know how, but I don’t think you’ll have to wait until we get back to Moonrise after all.”
“Wishful thinking.” But the venom was gone, along with the resolute… acceptance of death?
He walked back to the entrance, where he’d first dropped the satchel on his way out. He removed the wing, stretching it until it was in its open position, and walking back towards Magpie. “I assume patch sealer is for holes, right? Won’t that hurt?”
“It is likely the bat is in agony all the time and has adapted. Unliving flesh never heals—the pain of injuries remains until total destruction. The pain you inflict will not be significantly worse.”
It did mean he had to hold multiple objects at once, which would tax his concentration. Many unicorns couldn’t even handle three things at the same time. But I’ve never had my own powers, have I? Polestar probably powers all my magic, and I never even knew.
But if it was reading his thoughts right then, it chose not to reply. “Hold out your wing,” he said, flipping open the sealant. “And hold still. It might hurt.”
“I got that from your half of the conversation.” But at least she wasn’t looking at him like he had stabbed her in the back anymore. Maybe if this worked, she’d forgive him one day. “You’re like a Voidseeker on their first day, talking out loud to something no one can see. Keep it in your head.”
Now you’re the one trying to buy time. Or maybe that was him. With her severed wing pointed towards him, there was no pretending that she was just an ordinary pony. There was exposed flesh in there, bone severed cleanly with the hollow, spongy tissue within. But somehow there was no blood, no heartbeat, nothing but a thin layer of something dried brown. Like her body had tried to bleed when the cut was made, but not remembered how.
Before he could second-guess himself, he spread the patch sealer over the joint of the wing—he’d thought about the complex straps and spikes necessary to hold it down, but now there was just a simple rod. He stuck it not to the exposed injury, but the good flesh beneath, coating both with glue until the bottle was dry.
It hissed and foamed in the air, growing slowly, expanding. Ingenious. If this was a cracked window, this could probably close it almost instantly. Before the glue could lose all of its adhesion, he pulled on the wing, and pressed them together with some force.
Magpie twitched and contorted with displeasure, her teeth grinding together so loudly he could hear them. She glared at him, fury on her face. “If I don’t… get my flying back from this, Silver… I’m going to kill you.”
He gestured urgently at the vial. “Just break it open and touch the inside. Then you’ll be free of Nightmare forever. It won’t ever be able to force you to do anything again.”
“Assuming I survive.” But by now, her objections seemed mostly peremptory. She took the vial in her teeth, then snapped it. The little sliver of yellow tumbled out, almost to the floor—but it hit her exposed foreleg first and stuck there. A little like a sewer’s pin might’ve fallen by chance and stuck on something. But sewing needles didn’t usually spread.
From the point of contact, yellow grew out, moving further by the second. It spread like the tendrils of fungus grew in the garden, stretching tenuously out in each direction.
“It feels… so hot.” Magpie stared down at the point of contact; eyes fixed on the growing sliver. “I feel heat, after all this time. I almost didn’t remember.” At the rate it was spreading, he could only imagine it would feel like burning soon. But she didn’t seem to care.
“Back away from her, Silver. You must not be exposed. If you touch the agent, it will affect you too. Once converted, you will not have the strength to retake Moonrise. Stay out of reach until she is immobilized.”
He took a few steps back from her, more out of intimidation than anything else. He didn’t need telling twice that he’d be swallowed by the magic if he didn’t keep his distance.
Soon enough it had covered her hindlegs and continued creeping higher. A few tendrils reached onto the ground, but they didn’t get much further than Magpie. They seemed to recognize something living, or… almost-living, anyway.
“Silver,” she said, eyes going wide. “I… I can’t move. Stuck… why? Why? What did you do?” She wouldn’t be able to question for long; the layer of crystal was growing faster now. A strangely transparent cocoon, swallowing her before his eyes. “Make it stop, Silver. Don’t… don’t leave me.”
“I won’t leave,” he promised, sitting down on his haunches. “But I can’t stop it. I don’t think Polestar could.”
“She should be relieved. She cannot conceive of the value sacrificed to perform this process even once. When that vault empties, it will be empty forever.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have forced it on us.”