Applejack pressed forward. She heard nothing except the infrequent groaning of machinery, alarms, and her own footsteps. Warning lights and her own flashlight provided the only illumination and the slow, constant flashing gave her a headache. And she never saw any sign of anypony else. The entire maintenance section was practically dead. Maybe literally dead.
No, don’t think like that. They AIN’T dead. “Helloooooo!” she called out again. “Anypony out there? What’s goin’ on?”
No response except her own echo, thin and scared.
Applejack swallowed and kept walking, her footfalls clanging. “Alright, girl,” she whispered to herself, “it ain’t that bad. Maybe- Who’m I kiddin’, there’s no way this ain’t bad. ’Cept if it’s worse. Bettin’ it’s worse.” She did not know when to shut up, did she?
The hallway forked ahead, one part still going straight, the other going hard to the left. A set of signs hung from the wall, pointing straight, left, and back. All of them were maintenance terms meaningless to her except for one, along the straight path: Neurothaumatics. Wasn’t that where they made neuromods? What was she doing here? Whatever. It was a way out. She looked straight. Featureless corridor. She looked left. Featureless cor-
Something twitched in the corner of her eye. Applejack whirled straight again. Nothing but a tipped-over garbage can. She strained her ears. Nothing but some metallic echoes.
Left it was. She’d find another way out.
Applejack crept along, trying to keep quiet. If something was in here with her, she wasn’t going to make it easy for them. The added slowness? Worth it. She glanced over her shoulder and saw nothing.
The metal floor vibrated strangely beneath her hooves as she walked. It wasn’t really solid the same way ground was — or, heck, metal floors in the main part of Golden Oaks. She couldn’t say what, exactly, was different — was it “bouncy”? Did it just vibrate more? — but it was different enough that her attention kept getting drawn back to her hooves.
After she didn’t know how long, she came to another intersection. She stopped to read the signs. Just like she’d predicted, there was another sign pointing to the exit. Rather than the way she’d just come, it pointed to the ri-
Applejack wasn’t moving, yet the floor was vibrating.
She froze, refusing to even breathe. Yes, the floor was definitely shaking, just a little. Someone — or something — besides her was walking on it. If she had to guess, they were close. Her ears twitched this way and that, but she couldn’t hear anythi-
Clink clink.
Yes, she could.
Applejack locked her ears into facing the same direction. The sound was quiet and hearing which direction it was coming from, down here, was nearly impossible. But Applejack held her breath and wished her heart would stop beating so loud and listened and…
…didn’t hear anything. The sounds had stopped.
After almost a minute of waiting, the sounds refused to come back. Even the floor had stopped moving. Applejack looked down each hallway. Blackness. She swallowed, checked the signs one last time, and set off towards the exit. She tried to get her hopes up; she’d be out of here soon.
But that didn’t change the facts: there was something down here.
CelesTech was in the interesting position of being both a free-rein think tank and government-sponsored. It’d created many grand, wonderful things for Equestria and its allies in the past half-century, but all of that was at the behest of the Cosmic Thrones. Sun Queen Celestia IV wasn’t as much of a micromanager of the company as her predecessors had been (according to some of the company’s older members), she still sent up representatives to Golden Oaks for regular checkups. Having somepony be up there in person let them get a feel for research progress and morale far better than word processed reports ever could. Although Celestia wanted the chosen ponies to be as close to the diarchy as possible, most of the time, they were a carefully-selected scientist, someone who could understand at least most of the science being done, and a member of the royal family, solely for the first to report to. After all, it wasn’t like there were a lot of royals who were in possession of one of Equestria’s brightest minds in centuries, a thirst for knowledge that couldn’t be quenched by a lifetime spent in Zebrabwe in the Library of Rakotiru, and a better understanding of classical, quantum, and arcane mechanics than most doctorates.
Enter Princess Twilight Sparkle, a mare so sharp having her rule the country seemed a terrible waste.
There had been some aristocratic furor when Celestia had not only passed over her own son for ascension to alicornhood and the throne, but the replacement was from outside the nobility. Yet Celestia had remained resolute and unwavering in her decision. (One of Applejack’s more politically-minded friends said Celestia’s hour-long speech on the matter boiled down to, “She knows friendship like whoa and I’m the Sun Queen. Deal with it.”) Princess Twilight had gone on to be a perfectly capable leader-to-be, and the dearth of tabloid articles about her that were juicier than Princess Dislikes Ketchup shut up more than a few duchesses about not anointing Blueblood.
Outside of her usual duties, Twilight had proven to be a near-fanatical enthusiast of damn near every field of science and able to keep up with the top ponies. In spite of CelesTech’s already large budget, Twilight kept pushing to increase it further and take her own position in the organization. While specific that issue had yet to be resolved between queen and princess, Twilight’s intelligence meant there was only one option for Golden Oaks’ biannual royalty visit.
CelesTech’s uniforms might’ve looked a little bit silly, but their mandatory nature certainly meant one thing. Applejack didn’t need to worry about what she was going to wear. As she headed to the shuttlebay to greet the princess’s spaceship with everypony else, Applejack reflected that, on Equus, she probably would’ve spent a day trying to figure out what bows went with which dress and what colors went with her coat and still would’ve looked terrible once she dressed up. At least on Golden Oaks, everyone looked equally dorky.
Applejack fidgeted in place as she waited for the shuttle to arrive. The bay was big and cavernous and even surrounded by other ponies, she wasn’t sure she felt comfortable in it. She couldn’t even say why; the lobby of the station was even bigger, and Applejack felt just fine in that. She never went to the bay if she could help it. And she got the feeling she wasn’t the only one.
VP Glimmer paced back and forth at the head of the rows, back and forth, back and forth. She was muttering loudly. “Food? Good. Quarters? Welcoming committee?” She looked at one side of the aisle, then the other, and nodded. “Good. Tour? Good. I hope. So why can’t I calm down?”
“Because the princess is wearing off on you?” suggested a bearded researcher Applejack knew by sight but not name.
“Probably,” Glimmer muttered.
The intercom crackled. “Attention all personnel. Semi-Sacred Geometry is on her final approach, landing in one minute.”
“Okay! Okay. Be ready, everypony!”
Next to Applejack, Rose leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Why do we keep doing it like this? Twilight herself doesn’t even like it!”
“Dunno,” Applejack whispered back. “Protocol?”
Rose snorted. “Protocol is stupid.”
The seconds ticked by. Outside the windows, a big, sleek shuttle, the height of modern luxury, slid into view. It briefly cast the bay into shadow as it passed in front of the sun. It came to a smooth stop outside the port and the entire room trembled a tiny bit as it locked into place. Silence fell, so complete you could hear a pin drop on the other side of the room. Then the airlock hissed open and Princess Twilight Sparkle strode onto Golden Oaks.
Applejack had known Twilight for some time before she was chosen for ascension, and a large part of her personality had survived the species and class switch intact. So it might’ve just been because she knew what to look for, but there was no denying: beneath all those sparkly clothes, Twilight was the most regal dweeb in history. When she entered the bay, her eyes twitched up to marvel at the scienciness of the space, even though she’d seen it plenty of times before. When she glanced at Glimmer, her pace hitched for a quarter of an iota as she ran over (and freaked out about) the dozens of ways the conversation could go. And when she smiled at Glimmer’s greeting, something in her eyes made it the happiness of meeting a close friend rather than mere politeness.
The crew of Golden Oaks bowed to Twilight as Glimmer went over her usual spiel and rose as Twilight went through hers. Glimmer was saying something about how thrilled Twilight would be to see this or that when it happened. A certain somepony among the cafeteria workers squealed, “Hi, Twiliiiight!” She hopped up and down, waving a hoof at the princess from a back row. An embarrassment, a disgrace, a truly terrible breach in propriety and protocol.
At least, it would’ve been if Twilight hadn’t responded in kind. “Hi, Pinkie!” she yelled joyfully, waving like a foal would. She hovered a few feet above the deck so they could get a better look at each other. “I’ll get to you as soon as I’m settled in!”
“I’ll have cupcaaaaakes!”
“Remember to leave off the cherries this time!” Twilight landed again and turned back to Glimmer. “Sorry. You were saying?”
They’d well and truly broken the mold when they’d made Princess Twilight Sparkle.
Behind Twilight, her dragon bodyguard/assistant Spike rolled his eyes. He was a big fellow, taller than Twilight (horn included) and built like a brick outhouse, albeit a winged and extraordinarily dapper one. His toughness definitely clashed with his purple-and-green color scheme. But you forgot the latter because, well, dragon. And with a dragon bodyguard came a certain mystique for Twilight; dragons only protected people (of any species) they held great respect for. After the last treaty, dragons had supposedly been lining up to guard her.
Unfortunately, after Spike came the other guest.
Prince Blueblood stalked out of the shuttle like somepony inside had spat on him. His blonde mane was immaculate, his white coat was pristine, he himself was beautiful (almost sexy, Applejack didn’t want to admit), but the expression his face was twisted into made him look thoroughly punchable. As protocol dictated, and for no other reason, the crew of Golden Oaks bowed. Unlike with Twilight, they didn’t hold their bow.
“I mean, sheesh,” Rose whispered, “who spat in his ear?” She wasn’t the only one with such a sentiment; the ponies around Applejack were stiff and looking straight forward.
Blueblood looked at the crew, like he was expecting something more, then fell into line behind Twilight’s dragon. Trailing him were two pegasi bodyguards: a cyan one who looked like she’d rather be literally anywhere else and a grayish one who had apparently decided that even being a bodyguard to Blueblood was being a bodyguard to royalty, so she should act like it, dang it.
Once Glimmer led the royals and their guards out, the entire order of neat rows broke apart into chaos. Some ponies trotted out of the bay to snatch another look at Twilight, but most found their friends to talk with. Applejack and Rose just found a bench in the waiting area to relax on.
“So,” said Rose, “did you hear why Blueblood was sent up here?”
“Nope,” said Applejack. “And I don’t really care t’hear, either.”
“Oh, come on.” Rose elbowed Applejack lightly in the ribs. “You really don’t want to hear why Her Solariness is picking now to try to whip him into shape?”
“Not at all. I’m less interested in that than a mole is in the sky.”
“Huh. That one actually made sense.”
Applejack swatted at Rose with her hat. “When y’get home, y’need t’get out more.”
Rose laughed, then turned serious. “But, really, this is the first time Celestia has made him behave like a royal in… ever. Most of the time, they yell at each other in private or whatever.”
“So she just got sick o’her son actin’ like a foal when he’s thirty. Ain’t that complicated.” Applejack shrugged. “Wonderin’ why it took her so long, but that ain’t my business.”
“I guess.” But Rose didn’t sound all that convinced. She looked up. “Speaking of changing the subject, how long do you think Pinkie’s welcome cake will last?”
“You know we can take our time, right? She made an entire cake separate for leftovers.”
“Yeah. I mean just the first one.”
“Hmm. If it’s anythin’ like Twi’s last visit…”