//------------------------------// // 13. The Calm Before // Story: Synchronicity // by Sev //------------------------------// Rainbow Dash turned a slow spiral in the air as a thick plume of purple and black clouds trailed out behind her. The ground raced by below at breakneck speed, and the pegasus grinned at the ease of it all. It was the uniform; it had made distance flying dramatically easier. Part of the job, she figured. The uniforms must have been enchanted so that the Wonderbolts - and likewise, the Shadowbolts - could arrive at whatever distant destination they needed to be and still have the energy to perform their intended task. She even felt rested, despite having not slept in quite some time. Granted, the company helped. “And that's how I got my cutie mark,” Soarin explained, matching Rainbow's spin. Rainbow grinned at him. “And went on to be Equestria's greatest altitude champion?” she asked. Soarin laughed. “So I've got a record or two. I dunno if that makes me thegreatest,” he replied. “Besides, I've dived from heights most pegasus ponies don't get anywhere near, and I still didn't manage to pull off a Sonic Rainboom.” “Yeah, that's really something, filly,” Spitfire agreed. “How did you do that? I keep meaning to sit you down and ask you, but every time we run into each other there's always something else going on.” “You remember running into me?” Rainbow asked excitedly. “Sure!” Soarin replied easily. “Best lookin' mare at the gala! Plus, you saved my pie.” He looked like he had to restrain to keep from salivating at the memory. “Mmm… pie.” “Best looking mare at the gala, huh?” Spitfire asked with a tone of mock-jealousy in her voice. Soarin snorted. “You don't count,” he replied simply, “you're Spitfire.” Rainbow's blush was hidden by Spitfire spiraling over her and thunking the other Wonderbolt over the head with her hoof. She restrained a giggle and did her best to maintain her cool, but as practiced as her social image was, picking her words in the presence of ponies she idolized was never her strong suit. “Oh, it’s just uh… something I figured out as a filly,” she said, attempting to sound nonchalant. It was partially true. “I'm sure you could get it with enough practice!” she added. Less true, she knew. No amount of practice had gotten her the Sonic Rainboom. There was another requirement involved, but to reveal it in front of the Wonderbolts might compromise her credibility as a champion flier, to say nothing of violating a very old promise to a very dear friend. The trio had made considerable distance since departing Canterlot, and were now cruising low over the open plains that preceded the shores neighboring the Griffin Lands. Griffins had a continent of their own, beyond Equestria's borders, but being winged creatures they had long ago spread beyond the confines of their homeland and now had a small but stable population within Equestria itself. Griffins as far inland as Ponyville were rare, but on the eastern coastal lines there were several small towns where griffins and ponies mingled regularity, and one in particular that housed an old friend. Rainbow sighed inwardly as she thought to herself, her slowly fading smile lost amidst the casual banter of the other two ponies. 'Friend' was a step beyond stretching. She hadn't spoken to Gilda in person in almost a year, and while she had (more or less) 'made up' with the griffin by means of letters, there had never been an apology by either party. It had boiled down to 'Those are your friends, and you can keep me out of them,' which had resulted in a relationship in which both girls could still talk to each other through literary correspondence, but had nailed the wedge between them rather firmly into place. Rainbow didn't know what to expect from Gilda one way or the other at this point. Had it not been for the grave necessity of the situation, she likely never would've taken the trip to begin with. Having the Wonderbolts with her was a blessing, though. Gilda and Rainbow had initially bonded through a shared love of flying and pushing their own limits, and the Wonderbolts fit that bill perfectly. Griffins and pegasus ponies had a mixed bag of advantages and disadvantages when paired together in the air, but by and large both races considered themselves on an even playing field. That in mind, the Wonderbolts had repeatedly bested the cream of the griffin's crop in interspecies flight competitions, and it was not unusual for young hatchlings to have Wonderbolt posters hanging on their walls. Gilda was one such girl, and Rainbow hoped their presence would provide the icebreaker that would at least get her talking. The knowledge that she was using her childhood idols as bargaining lubrication to try and persuade her once-best-friend to commit her father to a war wasn't lost on her though, and it did little to improve her fading mood as their destination grew closer. “Just over that hill,” came Spitfire's voice from beside her. Rainbow hadn't realized the other two ponies had stopped talking, and shook her head to clear the inner turmoil out of it. She didn't have the luxury of distractions anymore. The familiar determination she'd honed from race days and flight tournaments crept into her posture, and her jaw set. She nodded to the flame-maned mare beside her, and narrowed her eyes. “Let’s do this.” I can't DO this! Princess Rarity thought in terror as she forced a cheerful smile to remain on her face while desperately juggling the cluster of concerned business ponies that had accumulated in front of her the moment she'd entered the palace. Representatives from every guild, corporation and trade had poured out from the woodwork as soon as they'd felt the fluctuation in power, all seeking explanation and some sort of statement as to how this would affect their business. Add to that the media, who surged in now that the Pegasus Guard had lifted the lockdown on the city and collected the first damning pictures of the fractured palace wall and the new pony who had taken Celestia's place. Who was she? Where was she from? Where were her wings? What in Equestria had happened to Celestia, and what was going to happen next? Rarity could hear them speaking to their fellow journalists, frantically taking notes, dictating, and snapping picture after picture. It was the first time she'd been the subject of everypony's attention and wanted nothing to do with it. And all the while, out of the corners of her eyes, she could see ponies still in their homes. Fillies stared out the windows fearfully toward a darkened sky that should have been light long ago, and parents were too unsure of the safety of Canterlot to risk opening their doors. More than the frantic, never ending questions of the crowd or the harsh, judgmental flashbulbs of the press, that hurt her. They had questions too, but were too frightened to come out and ask them. And even if they did, she didn't have any answers for them. “P-Princess… er… Celestia will be alright,” she said aloud, in response to a question directed to her by yet another unknown face in the crowd. “We're doing everything we can to get her back safely and securely-” “Where is she?” a voice asked, “What's happened to the palace?” “There was a bit of a, uh… a minor conflict and she was ponynapped and-” She winced at the sudden plague of gasps that washed over the crowd. A poor choice of words, perhaps. “But I'm sure she's going to be fine! Princess Luna is-” “Why would Princess Luna leave you in charge is she was fit to rule herself?” came the cry of one inquisitor. There were shouts of agreement. “Is there something wrong with Princess Luna?” “Where are the other Elements of Harmony?” “What caused the declaration of martial law? Why has it been lifted? Is the threat over?” Rarity's responses were cut off within seconds whenever she tried to speak them, each time by another, more complex question from one of Canterlot's news ponies. All the while, ponies in suits and ties, clustered up front, bowed and shook her hoof, introducing themselves as representatives for pony-this or pony-that and asking if their Princess Celestia authorized transaction letterhead documentation was still valid or if they'd have to put in for replacements, and offering dozens of expertly crafted arguments for why this policy or that policy was unfair to their business and should be removed, and how eager they'd be to write a new one. As a favor, of course. Tall as she now was, Rarity felt like they were swarming about her legs like small, rabid beasts closing in for the kill. She could feel instinctual panic swelling in her chest, and was rescued mere seconds before a rather terrible first impression by Fancy Pants, who had gotten the door to the private levels of the palace open and escorted her inside, closing it in the face of the still clamoring crowd of chattering ponies and cloistering her inside. Rarity leaned against the wall for a moment, listening to the muffled noise outside the door. It was so very different than she'd imagined it. She loved the spotlight! As a fashionista, it was her heart's joy to answer the questions of doting fans and talk for hours about her work, her opinions, and how wonderful (or horrible) this, that and the other was. But this... “Rarity...” Fancy said softly. Rarity shook her head slowly, muttering in a small voice. “I don't think I can do it… I… I don't know how...” “Rarity,” he replied in a slightly firmer voice, “Listen, you-” “I don't know how to HELP them!” she replied suddenly, with tears welling in her eyes, “They..they all need help! They're lost, their princess is gone, everything they've ever known is missing, they don't know what they do and they're all looking to me for answers and I haven't GOT any! I'm lost too! How can I help them find what they're looking for if I'm just as lost as they are?!” She circled in a tight, rapid pace, and her hoofbeats echoed down the hallways. “I've only ever taken care of myself! I run MY business, I sell MY dresses, I… I can't even take care of my little sister for a week without it turning into a family emergency! I have to help them all, but I don't know how to-” “RARITY.” Rarity startled and looked up at Fancy, who cleared his throat and smiled. “What is important right now?” he asked her. She blinked. The question seemed so broad it bordered on ridiculous. “I'm… What? Important? Its’ all important! Half of Equestria's economy is wrapped up behind this door trying to figure out if they have to change their mailing addresses and-” “No,” he said, shaking his head, “forget the details dear. What is IMPORTANT, right now?” Rarity blinked again, and realized she was panting. She took a moment to catch her breath, and tried to mimic Fancy's calm, upright stance. Important. Right now. “The stars are falling,” she said, and looked surprised at herself. She'd forgotten. How had she forgotten that? “Yes. And?” Fancy asked, prompting her to continue. “And ponies in Canterlot are frightened,” she replied, her eyes scrolling across an unseen page. She could feel them. She hadn't noticed it until now, but she could feel them, scared and alone in their houses, unsure what was going on. “Not just Canterlot… everywhere. They're looking for guidance.” “They're looking for leadership,” Fancy corrected, and smiled as he adjusted his monocle. “Darling, you've taken the title, but you haven't taken the position. These ponies all have questions, certainly. But their questions can wait. YOU have a job to do, and YOU know what matters right now. You simply need to do it.” “But...” she considered, looking back at the door, “but how can I ask them to do things for me? Some of those ponies-” “Rarity,” Fancy replied with a smile, “you're a princess. A princess doesn't ask. A princess commands. Don't ask them, and don't answer them. Rule them.” He winked. “There will be time for velvet gloves when the world isn't under siege by terrible alien beings.” Rarity's eyes widened slightly in surprise, and she considered. A moment later, her hoof was at the door, and she thrust it open, stepping purposefully into the light and the flashbulbs and the sudden rancorous hail of questions. “SILENCE.” Her command echoed off the stone walls of the fractured palace and radiated across what window's still remained in the main chamber, and every pony took several steps back and hunkered slightly in surprise and instinctual revelry. The tall, brilliant white unicorn thrust her hoof in the face of one of the closest business ponies, and she lifted a brow at him. “Name?” “Er… Fine Print, Princess,” he stammered, and continued with “I represent the-” Rarity cut him off. “How many ponies are under your employ, Fine Print?” she asked sternly. He blinked and considered. “I'd… say just over three hundred or so, Princess.” “Those three hundred ponies are now your personal responsibility.” Rarity said flatly. “You will assemble your employees, every last one of them, and travel to every home they live in, and find every family member they have, and ensure that ALL of them know that Canterlot is safe, secure and that there is a Princess on the throne. Her name is Rarity.” She cast her hoof across the crowd. “EACH OF YOU! Every business owner in this room, it is YOUR TASK to ensure the safety of your employees. Travel to their homes, make sure they're alright, collect them with you and send them to other ponies homes to do the same. Spread out, find everyone! I expect the Canterlot streets filled with ponies within the hour with the knowledge that it is SAFE to do so!” She set her jaw, and addressed the media. “The rest of you are coming with me. I want the Sun Dais prepped for a public address in two hours, and everypony needs to know it’s happening. If we need to go door to door to make that happen, we will.” Her expression softened a little as she looked at the seas of startled faces. “There are a lot of frightened ponies out there,” she said, “and I won't let them sit in the shadows feeling like no pony is watching out for them. I may not be Princess Celestia, but I am Princess Rarity, and MY little ponies are not afraid of the dark. Today begins in two hours, and Celestia or not, it will begin with the sunrise. I will see to it.” When she stepped forward toward the palace door, the crowd split open to grant her passage, and the ponies to her sides dropped to their knees as she passed them. She didn't need to look back. She could feel them follow her, keeping a respectful distance, and trotting in silent reverence. Not for the first time, Rarity realized the astounding amount of impossible work that lay before her, and found herself smiling. “Even if I wanted to help,” Gilda snapped, “and I don't, OUR legends say the stars can't be hurt anyway! I'd be asking my dad to lead his entire army to destruction. For what? Ponies? You caused this problem to begin with! You can deal with it yourselves!” Rainbow grit her teeth and stamped a hoof on the floor of the aerie. “You OWE us, Gilda! Call it payback for rescuing your butts from Discord! TWICE!” The griffin blew her feathery hair out of her face with a dismissive huff. “None of us saw Discord come back, Dash. Lots of griffins don't even think it happened. Six ponies put down the lord of chaos in a couple days time? Alone? I've met your 'friends'. I could take one of them completely out of the picture by tossing her rabbit off a cliff. If it was a cupcake instead, the pink one would follow her! You're telling me-” “You shut your beak about them,” Rainbow hissed defensively, her wings flaring in aggressive posture and fanning outward. “They've done more for me than you ever have. If you weren't so busy being a… selfish… arrogant-” “I'M selfish and arrogant?!” the larger griffin snapped, her own wings flaring. Rainbow was keenly aware of Gilda's superior size and strength, but it seemed more of an issue now than it had been in the past. “At least I stick to my friends, Dash! Aren't you supposed to know something about that, huh? 'Loyalty'? You dropped me on my butt pretty quick when I didn't get all touchy-feely with your dweeby new crayon-box buddies!” Rainbow blinked, and her wings drooped a little. “Is that what this is really about?” she asked incredulously, “You're… jealous? You? The coolest cat in flight camp?” Gilda sneered, but she didn't respond. Slowly, after a moment or two, her angry expression faded, and was replaced by one of subdued, quiet sorrow. The face of someone who'd come to terms with something a long time ago, and only just now had the chance to voice it. “... Yes.” she said simply. Rainbow had no immediate reply, having been knocked silent by the admission. Getting Gilda to admit to weakness was a feat of rare occurrence as it was. To admit to something like jealousy was nothing less than biblical. The golden griffin folded her wings and took a seat in the middle of the thatched floor of her tree-borne home. Aeries like this one littered the tall trees off the coastline, making a town of interlinking bridges and platforms that contained all the comforts of any other habitation: stores, a town square, a market, but all suspended above the ground. Gilda, being a griffin of some importance herself, had the largest of the residential 'nests', and had been shocked and amazed when Rainbow had arrived at her doorstep with the two most prominent members of the world's greatest aerial team. Their presence had bought Rainbow the legitimacy she needed to convince Gilda of the severity, and accuracy, of the situation. But when she'd requested help, the griffin's attitude turned sour, and she refused to continue the conversation in front of Spitfire and Soarin. Both ponies had left some time ago to patrol the surrounding area, and Rainbow was thankful they weren't here to listen to the fight that had broken out not long after their departure. “I… didn't know.” Rainbow replied, and even she realized how weak the response felt on her lips. Gilda snorted. “Of course not. Why would you?” She rolled her eyes and looked over at the uniformed pegasus. “Do you know where I live, Rainbow Dash?” Rainbow's ears tucked back and she looked around her at the room they were in. “Er...” she chanced, “here?” “Yeees,” Gilda chided, “and where is here?” “In a… tree?” Gilda sighed. “In Equestria, dweeb. Land of pretty little pastel herbivore magical happy musical marshmallows. Which, you may have notice, I am not one of.” She slumped a little. “The other griffins are here to trade, or pick out new land of their own. They associate with each other socially, and chat with ponies when it’s convenient or necessary. But that's it! When they go home, they go home to griffins, in griffin houses with griffin morals and they leave all the ponies behind. But I'M here as my father's ambassador. I have to attend functions and go to camps and immerse myself in pony society every day because I'm supposed to be a good example! And you know what?” Her face had transformed from aggressive to saddened, and Rainbow could hear her voice crack, just a little. “I'm terrible at it, Rainbow. Just… just really bad. I don't understand ponies. I don't understand how you can't eat meat, and think I'm a dangerous, evil thing for doing it. I don't understand how you can all sing and dance and play like little kids, and still be the beings responsible for saving the world again and again and again from things our greatest warriors couldn't hope to fight. I don't know how you can have three totally different kinds of yourselves and still get along so well. I just… don't know how to be a pony.” Rainbow hadn't heard any of this before, and found the entire admission shocking. Gilda had never mentioned it, not even in her letters. But she'd clearly thought about it, enough that she was venting it all now. The blue pegasus pony chose to stay quiet and let her talk, but moved a little closer. Fight or not, she'd always rather hoped she still had a friend in Gilda. And that friend needed a little support. “I tried, you know,” she added after a moment, when Rainbow sat beside her. “I tried a lot. But every time something would happen that just… flew in the face of all my logic, and I got mad at it. The way you all behave, your society, your values, they don't make any sense by our standards. The only things we have in common, REALLY in common, are money and competition. So we trade with you, and we talk business, and we play sports. And when they're over, we leave. Except me. I go to camps and towns and piss ponies off because I'm not pony enough for them.” “You were pony enough for me,” Rainbow offered. Gilda chuckled. “You made sense,” she said. “You were the only pony I'd ever met that did. You didn't care about all the magic or how I ate or dancing and singing, you just cared about flying. You wanted to race and soar and do the things that we like to do. I… pinned a lot of hope on you. I thought you were the bridge I was looking for. You could be my friend, and through you I could do what I was supposed to do.” She shook her head slowly, and looked out of the window at nothing in particular. “You were the only pony friend I had. That was valuable in and of itself. But more than that, it made you special to me. I think I got a little over-attached.” “But...” Rainbow chanced, “When I tried to introduce you to Pinkie, you-” Gilda grunted. “That cotton candy creampuff? She's everything I can't figure out about you ponies. Shes the DEFINITION of what I can't wrap my head around. And, more than that...” she dragged a claw idly across the floor, “she was cutting into my time with you. I think, seeing you with her, I got it into my head that she was turning you into a pony, when I'd always seen you as something more like me.” She reclined and lay prone on her back, staring at the ceiling. “Annnnd I think things just… spiraled from there.” Rainbow chewed her lip. Time was short, and getting shorter by the moment, but she'd never seen Gilda open up like this before. She wanted to help her friend. She wanted her friend BACK, and considering how badly she needed her help right now, she stuffed down her instinctual need to rush things and gave the griffin time to level with her. “Why didn't you ever...” she chanced, “I mean, we sent letters and stuff, you could've explained it-” “PONIES explain things in letters,” Gilda said sharply, “Griffins don't. See? That's what I'm talking about. I wouldn't even know what to write! It’s not like I've been trained for this kinda thing, Dash. You know how we learn to fly? They kick us out of the nest until we don't hit the ground anymore. My social preparation consisted of being assigned a house here and instructed to spend at least a month out of every three in the company of ponies, full time. Usually, it’s a flight camp or something, 'cause that's the only environment I can seem to relate to you guys on. But even those have been somewhat abysmal since… you know.” Rainbow did, and draped a wing over the griffin sitting beside her. “I've missed you, Gilda,” she said simply, after a moments pause. “A lot.” “I've missed you too, dweeb.” Gilda replied with a tired smile. She cast a sidelong glance at the pegasus pony and smirked a bit. “Nice pajamas, by the way.” Rainbow laughed and shoved the larger avian. “These are ceremonial!” she protested, “It’s an ancient uniform!” “It smells like one.” Gilda retorted with a chuckle, and Rainbow blushed. “Its been a really long flight,” she explained in her own defense, “and I haven't slept since… yesterday? Day before? I can't remember. The suit is helping keep me awake at this point, Gilda. I've been non-stop for a day and a half now. We all have.” Her own statement made her think of her friends, and was accompanied by a pang of sympathy. She hoped they were alright. “It’s really that big a problem, isn't it?” Gilda asked. “It really is,” the blue pony replied. Gilda stood up, and paced slowly around the room, before lifting her head and nodding firmly. “Alright, Rainbow Dash,” she declared, “I'll tell my father Equestria needs our help. You've got your backup.” Rainbow leaped to her hooves and hugged the griffin tightly, who responded with a laugh of protest. “Hey! Don't ruffle the feathers! You just get your pretty little ponies ready. I'll make sure the word gets out.” Her statement trailed off as a low, hollow droning, vibrating from the very bottom of their audible range, shook the treeline from overhead. Out the window they could see a long, alien trail of dust streaming from an object slowly descending toward the horizon line. It was close now, closer than Rainbow had seen it before, and the noise rattled her very bones. A deep and painful bass so profound it deadened the air and forced all other noise away. A silence so loud not even the birds dared to speak. Rainbow swallowed hard as it cleared, fading to obscurity toward the distance. “I don't think we're going to get another pass,” she said, and tried to hide the fear in her voice. Gilda, stunned silent, could only nod. “I think we had better get going.”