//------------------------------// // Chapter 52: A Fate, Whole // Story: Luna is a Harsh Mistress // by Starscribe //------------------------------// Of course it couldn’t be as simple as just walking back into Moonrise and waiting to be showered with praise. After all, most of the creatures in the upper city had lived a life of plenty under Rockshanks’s rule. Whatever preparation they had to do for a war not likely to ever happen was a small price to pay. A small force of unicorns had erected a shield around the entrance, which Nightmare Moon cut through with little effort. She might not wield the power of a goddess anymore, but she was still a unicorn with centuries of experience. Once inside, there were a dozen creatures waiting, with rifles and even a mounted gun they hadn’t finished setting up. Silver fired the alien rifle at a pony in the center of the crowd, and put an end to their resistance before it had begun. It might just be one casualty, but there was nothing any of these ponies had done to prepare them for being showered with gore. “Leave your weapons behind,” he ordered, once the panicked screams had subsided and they had finally fallen silent. “Then return to your homes. Make sure all Moonrise knows that any who oppose me will face a similar death.” Silver didn’t care about the stores, or about claiming the regent’s office. He had no intention of taking command of an army he was about to dismantle.  Instead he marched straight for the heat-core, flanked by his strange escorts. The princess had taken an extra set of Voidseeker robes, which she wore as tightly as Penumbra. The princess and rightful ruler of Moonrise was masquerading as Silver’s bodyguard. They crossed a bridge between two skytowers, and Nightmare Moon hesitated near a window, staring down at the city below. Maybe she hoped to see he’d been lying, and the low ponies of Moonrise would be out working and shopping in the markets. They weren’t, though. Instead they had a clear view of the arena grounds, with a small pile of corpses frozen there and the dirt crimson with their blood.  How many more did they kill? Silver wondered, following her gaze. How big did they think the rebellion was, anyway?  “We have to get to the core,” he prompted, the bravest he could manage to the Alicorn. He might’ve threatened her, might’ve nearly killed her—but he had no illusions about how often he could act like that. In a way, it was only her kindness towards Moonrise that made her so weak in the first place. Silver would not rub that in, potentially giving up their strongest ally.  She nodded reluctantly, eyes lingering on the Arena. “What happened out there?” “Flint,” he explained. Magpie was leading them, though Penumbra seemed familiar with the streets as well. Maybe she made visits into the city more often than the princess had. “I think there was another rebellion before me. Most died, some hid. You can see how well it went.” The princess hung her head, and didn’t speak again during the rest of the trip.  Silver found the guard posts abandoned, though the door was still locked. The princess opened that too, not saying a word. Within was the heart of Moonrise, ancient machinery that kept all of them alive. Silver had never been inside, since of course it was forbidden to all but the Airmaker’s Guild, whose work earned them Green all on its own. Even in the new world that would soon grow from Moonrise’s carcass, he intended to keep these parts of the city far from the careless hooves of ponies. The heart was itself a vast space, built in the hollow cavity of the largest, oldest skytower. A gigantic metal spire ran all the way down to the cave floor, surrounded by pumps and water tanks and ancient reservoirs. There were many scaffolds and balconies surrounding it, with machines and vents visible on each. Even here, the decay of Rockshanks’s rule was visible. Many of the vents keeping the city running were covered in a cankerous rust. Cooling fans larger than Silver’s whole body barely spun, and half the pipes he could see were leaking. This single room was probably why the undercity was so damp and constantly raining, considering the little pond collecting far below them. It was yellow-green instead of clear, which might’ve also explained the smell. To their credit, the Airmaker’s Guild ponies hadn’t abandoned their posts like the guards. Half a dozen of them were tending to the machines, bent over valves and hammering at anvils and doing other things to keep the city running. The nearest mare stopped what she was doing, dropping her heavy mallet and backing away from Silver. He could practically see the thought forming in her mind—she was going to call for the soldiers. “Listen!” he called, loud enough that his voice echoed even over the sound of machinery. “The Lord Regent is dead, but none of you will be harmed. I am his replacement.” He stepped into the center of the room, glaring around at the ponies with their aprons and shiny leggings. It was meant to keep them dry while they worked, and now he could see why. “I demand to know who is in charge here. Everypony else, continue working.” A pony emerged from a dark corner of the room, with little gold buttons on his uniform and a purple pin instead of green. Silver turned, watching him approach without any particular urgency. “I don’t know who you are,” he said, his voice harsh. “But even if you’re telling the truth, we have no reason to obey you. You attack us? You’ll be dead within the week. The Airmakers’ is the only thing keeping back the darkness, little though we’ve been given to accomplish that task.” “What is your name?” Silver demanded. Maybe it was the blood and dirt splattered on his armor, or maybe it was just the extra centimeters his suit gave him. Whatever it was, the pony actually answered. “Engine Grease,” the pegasus said, his wings shifting nervously from one side to the other. “And who the buck are you?” “Silver Star,” he answered, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Listen very careful, Engine Grease. I can tell you haven’t been given enough resources to do your jobs. Moonrise is decomposing around us. The consequences might only be uncomfortable up in the skytowers, but they’re lethal down below. Moonrise is changing. Every resource we devoted to preparing to invade the world below will be shifted towards Moonrise itself.” He nodded slightly towards Magpie. “See her? That’s a crystal golem from the Sacred City. She’s hundreds of years old, and has forgotten more about Moonrise than you ever learned. You have a choice, Engine Grease. Lead the Airmakers. Help me fix all this. Or I’ll replace you, and have her do the same job.” Magpie tilted her head slightly to one side, confused. But only for a moment, long enough for her to realize what he was doing. Then she relaxed, her expression as neutral as possible.  “Why even give me the chance?” he asked, still defiant. “If you have someone better at the job, then why don’t you replace me? You’d have a better guildmaster, and a pony you knew was loyal to you.” “I’m also very good at killing,” Magpie said. Her lie was unconvincing, but she advanced on Engine Grease anyway. “Not as good as them, though. Did you study much in school? Those are Voidseekers. He has two.” “I only want you to do your job,” Silver went on. “I’m willing to bet you don’t have enough to do it right. Not enough technicians, not enough metal, not enough time in the workshops. Airmakers’ will be first priority in Moonrise from now on, along with the Greenshoot guild. If you’ll work with me.” Engine Grease hesitated for another moment more. He glanced down the catwalk, towards a unicorn far below. Working some kind of… cup, attached to the wall. They nodded, and Engine looked back. “What are your orders, Lord Commander?” A few minutes later, and they were already leaving the core behind. All and all, getting their loyalty was probably the easiest part of Silver’s new mission. The only job as important as maintaining the air and heat was keeping everypony fed and watered. That they’d been so starved of resources was completely absurd. The labor that remained would be much harder. Ponies had long-since emptied from the halls ahead of them, eager to obey at least the order to go to their families and stay there. That meant there was nopony to stop them as they finally made their way down to the lower city, and emerged from one of the many armored doorways onto cold stone. At least there was nopony to overhear them. “I always suspected that there were flaws in the way Moonrise was administrated,” the princess muttered. “I’ve seen this behavior many times. The instant ponies get comfortable, they forget how hostile the world outside really is. Even Iron Quill could barely keep them in line. Growing in low gravity has rotted their brains.” “Not all of us,” Silver countered, glaring at her. “Maybe if we hadn’t been choosing leaders based on who could fight their predecessors to the death, this wouldn’t have happened.” She shrugged. He could see only her slitted eyes through the cloak, yet she seemed entirely ambivalent. “Moonrise didn’t grow as a noble colony like Vanaheimr, unified in purpose. It was founded by the least of my army. The reserves and backups. The whores and merchants. In those years, the military way was the only way. It was an effective method to wage war against a superior enemy.” “We still lost,” Penumbra said casually. “I mean, we were winning until the end, but.” “It will be good to have other company,” the princess said. “Living with the same bitter widow for four centuries was almost as trying as the Unmade whispering in my ears.” “I’m ending this… obsession with colors. It’s possible it served Moonrise well in the past, but all I ever saw was vindictive commanders giving low colors to the creatures they wished to punish, and high ones to the families that were loyal.” “It wasn’t arbitrary before,” Penumbra said. “My husband worked carefully with the quartermaster corps and every creature with teaching experience. I never knew what they were, but I know there were… requirements. Thresholds that any could pass, regardless of their other flaws. Like our daughter. Being blind didn’t stop her from taking the same tests as everypony else, and serving Moonrise in her way.” Silver didn’t argue the point. He nearly didn’t say anything at all—unless he was mistaken, Penumbra’s daughter Faithful Gale had founded the Gatecrashers, all those years ago. Her work had inspired him his whole life. They weren’t going to any of the shelters first, though part of him wanted to. He had to know if the ordinary civilians of the Yellows and Whites had survived their rebellion. He resisted the temptation to check—it wouldn’t change what he had to do. Even if he was too late, he’d already punished the guilty. But if Silver was going to retake the city, he needed soldiers he could trust. There was nowhere else for him to go but the border checkpoint. There were a few dead ponies in the dirt leading away—they wore uniforms, and had been stripped of their weapons. Just a few bodies, though, not even half a dozen. So whatever attacks had happened after Silver’s own capture, they weren’t much. Maybe the regent had realized they weren’t going to open the airlock after all, and wanted to wait for the cold to kill them. “You there!” called a voice from high above. “We’ll have no creatures coming this way until our leader is returned! Tell the bastard to follow his own damn rules!” Silver stuck out a hoof to stop them, lighting his horn bright enough to illuminate their group clearly. “I’m back, Nidus! Get the others together, and join me downstairs.” He gasped, pointing. A few other faces peeked up from the roof, wearing their stolen air-armor against the ravaging cold. “It’s him,” he heard more than once. “Not dead.” “What happened?” Nidus shouted back, after a few seconds of whispering. “You’re general now?” “No,” he answered. “I’m the Lord Commander, for as long as we keep the title. Rockshanks is dead.” The ponies rushed to obey, and the four of them made their way past the barricade to the door. “What kind of heat magic are you using?” Nightmare Moon asked curiously. “It’s nearly as cold here as the surface. Yet your space suit is torn beyond usefulness.” He shrugged. “I don’t know how it works. The Polestar has been with me… probably since I was born. I’ve been immune to cold my whole life.” The Voidseeker stopped dead for a few seconds, eyes widening. She bounced a few times to catch up, not sliding in the dirt. “Who are your parents, Silver?” It wasn’t the answer he wanted to give, but it was the only one he had. “My father was Argent Star. I don’t remember my mother. Her name was Silver Down.” Penumbra shrugged one cloth-covered wing. “The touch of the Polestar is only given to a single pony at once, until your first child.” Despite the destruction all around them, she seemed suddenly cheerful. “Relax, Princess. My family is still carrying Moonrise on our backs.” All of Silver’s soldiers had gathered by the time they reached the central chamber. They were a few hunched and bandaged with gunshot wounds. The only pegasus in the group didn’t look like she’d be with them much longer—her breath didn’t even steam in the cold anymore. They started cheering as Silver entered, and didn’t stop for several minutes straight. Somehow the dozen of them could make that little room feel like it held a hundred. “The work isn’t done, ponies,” he said, as soon as the joy had finally died down. “It won’t be as simple as putting on all of Rockshanks’s hats, kicking all the Blues and Purples out here, and sleeping in their houses.” “Why not?” Ghostlight interrupted. “It’s what they deserve. They’re lucky we don’t throw them out the airlock like Rockshanks was trying to do to us.” There were a few murmurs of agreement from the crowd. One earth pony in particular. “They had to know what was going on outside. Where was the solidarity? They should’ve killed the regent themselves!” Nightmare Moon took a step back from the crowd, body tensing. Maybe she was going to rebuke them? Silver had to take charge, or their little ruse would be over before it began. Once the princess’s weakness was exposed, they’d lose the last symbol of unity Moonrise had left.  Where they’d all been unified seconds before, now he could see skepticism, suspicion. “So what you’re saying is, you’re going to leave everypony working in the ditch and eating gruel,” Nidus said. “You just wanted to be the one giving the orders. Is that it?” I’m going to lose them if I don’t do something. “No, Nidus.” He advanced on the pony, without actually drawing the rifle. He wouldn’t need it, not to fight against his new friends. He just needed to help them understand. “We are not going to keep all the same evils, and give them to different creatures. That means no one is starving, no one is freezing, no one is sick. Not you, not them. It won’t be hard, when we’re not giving every last kilogram of Lunarium to the army to prepare for an invasion that isn’t happening.” “We’re not?” somepony else asked. The sick-looking pegasus, her voice shaking. “Doesn’t the princess… isn’t that why we’re here?” Silver opened his mouth to say something, but he wasn’t the first to speak. Nightmare Moon beat him to it. “The princess would weep if she saw what happened to you, pony. It was her sister’s blood she wanted to shed, not yours.” There was an awkward, uncomfortable silence. Finally Nidus broke ranks. “So what do you want from us, then? Not back to the mines? Not back to empty bellies and cold beds?” “No,” he answered. “I can’t trust the army—they’re so rotten they were willing to let us all die. I need ponies I can trust to help me run things.” He raised a hoof. “Before you accept. I won’t just need you to do what I say. I need your word you’ll not take revenge on the ponies in those towers. We’ll be putting an end to their parties, and turning their mansions into homes for all the cold down here. But if I hear that any of mine harmed them, I’ll show them as much mercy as I showed Flint.” There was more unhappy muttering from the crowd. “Every victorious army wants to pillage,” Penumbra muttered. “Why would you expect civility out of these, Silver? They’re barbarians.” The pegasus stepped forward, holding out a shaky hoof. “I’ll h-help you, Silver. I won’t take revenge.” “And me,” Nidus grunted. “Not happily. But I’ll keep my buckin’ word.” Soon he had them all. “Then come with me to the armory,” Silver said. “Except you, uh… Fog Bank.” He glanced over his shoulder at the princess, speaking more respectfully. “Do you know any healing spells?” She nodded. “Going to have a hard time convincing the city I’m a Voidseeker if I keep using magic.” The transition was not easy after that, nor bloodless. Silver’s little band had to fight several times more, against little pockets of resistance still loyal to Rockshanks. But with his public defeat of the crown of their chain of command, there was less than even the princess expected.  Then the lunar morning came at last, and they could give the dead the honors they deserved. Even in death, Flint had gone a long way towards accomplishing her goal. Between the cold and the executions, a thousand Whites and hundreds of Yellows were dead. Then they were buried, and Moonrise came closer to collapse than it ever had during their rebellion. For every pony in the towers, three had lived in the cave below. None of them wanted to show mercy. Silver Star had to keep his promise, and execute a half-dozen laborers that had done far worse than that to a family of Purples. He brought the whole city out to the Arena to watch. “This version of Moonrise dies here,” he said, voice amplified until it boomed through the cave. “I know plenty of you have good reasons to resent the lives you lived, and the ones who made you live it. But the vacuum up above us doesn’t care what color used to be on your badge. Rockshanks was already leading us to it. We’re leaving all that behind.” They brought every colored badge in the whole city to that spot, piling them together into a clay crucible the size of a pony. And shaped like one, too. The statue that emerged from within was banded in a hundred different shades, particularly from the high metal alloys used by the darker colored badges. It could’ve been anypony, but as Silver carried it to join the monuments of the First Commander and all their other ancient heroes, he couldn’t help but hear his brother’s voice. It was about the size of a colt, though the hasty clay mold he’d had crafted had the features of no specific creature. “No more,” he promised, when the crowd was gone, and he was the only pony left in the ancient hall. “We’ll be better, Ivory. You’ll see.” As weeks turned to months, they were. Silver made frequent trips to Vanaheimr, consulting the library there for advice on how the city ought to run. The library didn’t listen to anyone else, but he still set the Gatecrashers back to work. There were plenty of ponies trained for risk and danger that no longer had either. The most determined members of Rockshanks’s army were its first recruits. Some even got to die for the city, though more to ancient machines and ignoring warnings than the powerful armies of Equestria. The city changed. Silver tore down the barracks completely, he melted armored wagons down into new pipes, and disbanded marksmanship training. Airmaker’s Guild became the largest organization in all the city, with plenty of eager recruits now that it was open to all instead of just the Greens. “How did you do it?” Silver asked one day, in the private confines of his high-tower office. The princess didn’t bother with the Voidseeker uniform very often, though she kept the unicorn illusion religiously. “Lunar Dawn” was to Moonrise one of Silver’s closest advisors, even if in reality she made just as many decisions. “Do what?” The princess looked up from her desk, where she’d been reading of all things. Apparently the high families of the last centuries had produced a fair few works of reference and fiction. These days she always had one close. “I require more detail.” “How did Vanaheimr rule?” he asked, shoving away a half-dozen different scrolls. If he had to read Engine Grease complain one more time about something Silver had already solved… “The Alicorns were obviously smarter than we are. We’ve been copying all kinds of things they did, why can’t we copy their government?” “I… don’t remember very much.” The princess rose to her hooves, closing the book with reverent magic. “I think we had a royal family, but… the position was mostly a tradition. Tourists visited the palace to take pictures with them. They appeared on television for speeches twice a year. Running Vanaheimr was parliament’s job. I was too young to vote for a representative there. My sister didn’t know any more than I did.” Silver brought the question to the library, and a year later Moonrise had its first “election.” They were still a small city, and having one pony to represent five hundred barely filled a room. According to the library, in Vanaheimr there had been one representative for every million. A number so large, he couldn’t understand it. The ponies of his security force seemed surprised when he told them not to do anything about the other creatures running for Prime Minister.  When he won his first election, the whole city seemed relieved.  And so went the years. Moonrise was a monument of their ancestors’ cleverness, buried by decades of neglect. It would take twice as long to get the city working as well as it had in the stories. But eventually the night came when Silver didn’t have to move a single family around because a heat-vent had failed. The day came when they started adding cans of food to the stockpile, instead of taking from it. Eventually, the day came when Silver realized that the city didn’t need him anymore. The new generation was full of brilliant minds and new ideas, full of ponies who had all the opportunities of an education without fear of starvation or a violent death by some other unfortunate. “Don’t think I’m done with you,” the princess said, when he’d finished his announcement and the crowd drained from the capital building. “The princess has her cabinet, and I have a feeling she’ll keep you close until you’re dead.” “Longer than the princess thinks,” Magpie said, wrapping one hoof around Silver’s neck and squeezing. It was hardly strange for his wife to be affectionate, though. “I’m sure of it.” “If you say so.” Dawn gathered her notes in her folio, then vanished with a teleport. Probably back to the Prime Minister’s office. “What were you talking about?” Silver asked, as soon as they were home. The apartment was far larger than the crevice Magpie had once used as her shelter, though not even half the size as Rockshanks’s old mansion had been. Space was too precious to waste on just one family.  There had been more of a family here a decade ago, when their foals were young. Now they had their own homes, their own roles. Silver suspected his eldest daughter Sapphire Down might be about to have her first election. Assuming a partly-crystal pony had any chance. He gave her good odds. “I know you don’t like to remember it,” he said, pushing the doors gently closed behind them. “But you’ll have to say goodbye sooner or later. We can’t all be immortal.” Magpie tossed her cloak aside, glowering at him. Her body caught the light of the overhead lamp, only slightly tinted glass. Only the metal skeleton of her left wing was an exception, his crude craftsmanship preserved even all these years later. “I’m not even immortal, thanks to you.” She hesitated as she said it, resting one hoof near the wall. An old family photo hung there, when Sapphire was their only foal. “Just immortal enough.” He rested a hoof on her shoulder. “You didn’t have to… I mean… me. You had to know it would end someday. Not today—the First Commander was twice my age when he took command.” And he didn’t even last ten years. “Yeah yeah.” Magpie shoved his hoof away. “I was ready to accept all that when this started. But a young new Lord Commander probably could’ve convinced half the mares in Moonrise… How was I going to say no?” He choked back a laugh. “The same way you always do.” She grinned back, then galloped away. Even after all these years, the clicks of glass on metal still made Silver nervous. She hadn’t shattered yet. “I have something for you,” she said, her voice muffled. She popped back out from their bedroom a moment later, clutching something in her lips. A bulging paper envelope. “I don’t think you should have it before the election. It’ll be weird for everypony if…” She settled it down on the kitchen table, flicking a wing towards it. “Just open it.” He stopped beside the ancient wood, lifting the envelope in her magic. “You can’t fight time,” he said flatly. “Even Penumbra had to say goodbye to the First Commander.” Magpie stuck her tongue out. “Penumbra was the one who gave me the idea. You think she’s happy about that? Best years of her life gone in a blink, and she’s alone again. But Iron Quill gave her something to remember him, the same thing you gave me. Freedom.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Penumbra ran out of time to give something back, and it tears her up inside. Not me.” Silver tore the envelope in his magic. He expected a letter, folded with Magpie’s usual gracelessness. Instead, a vial fell out from within, and nearly smashed on the table. He caught it in his magic, holding it. “Empty…” But as he brought it close, he could see the error. No, the vial wasn’t empty. There was a sliver of pink glass inside, somehow holding itself balanced between both sides of the vial without touching either. Silver had seen something like this, once before. “How the buck did you get this?” “Best thief on the moon,” she answered, embracing him with a pony hug. “The Polestar is furious with me, by the way. But I don’t care what it thinks. You saved Moonrise. Now Moonrise saves you, in case it needs you again. Buck what Polestar wants.” He chuckled, settling the vial gently back onto the table between them. “I’m guessing you won’t give me a choice.”  She glared back. “As much as you gave me.”