“I've been wailing like a child
At the bottom of a well
I've been pacing like a man
In a prison cell”
– Buried Above Ground, Giles Corey
“Next!”
The magically-enhanced shout had clawed its way out of the cacophony of sounds and mutterings all around the crowded area and into the mind of one lonely unicorn mare, pulling her out of her thoughts.
She had reached the front of the enormous waiting line, the cabin where she was supposed to enter flanked by heavily armored Imperial Guards with silver plates obscuring their eyes.
Already spotting some nasty looks from some of the more hasty ponies waiting behind her, she hurried over to the tiny cubicle, the heavy curtain shuffling open right as she passed.
The seat, raised off the ground, was a bit old and worn but the crystalline wall with the reinforced frame looked freshly installed as it separated her from the spectacled unicorn stallion behind - which spoke absolute wonders of the Crown’s priorities.
Just your typical Imperial logistics.
Not that her sore flank was going to complain. She had waited hours in the middle of a bunch of ponies just to get here, went through an unimaginable number of background checks, endured the surprise visits from the Loyalty Guard to ‘check her certificate and family connections’.
Discomfort had been a promise, not a risk.
“Code of registry,” the young unicorn behind the glass droned out with a perfect pronunciation born from repeating the same phrase hundreds of times. He didn’t even look away from his crystal screen.
This was it. Hours of recounting what she’d have to say in front of the mirror, rephrasing the words - written in the notice she’d received in the mail - until they were seared into her mind. Finally about to pay off.
“EMU-016180,” she repeated her code perfectly. “I’m volunteering for training in a PER cell. Group leader Stalwart Stasis, former Trailblazer, with additional asset listed as Mr. Crane, active Fixer.”
“Name.” He didn’t even inflect it as a question. It was simply the natural progression of this exchange.
“Alice LeBlanc,” she replied without thinking.
Upon hearing Alice’s name, the stallion seemed to be momentarily reimbursed with the cognition his job had usurped from him.
He looked at her for the first time, his strong jaw tight and eyes serrated, stretching his neck to look for her cutie-mark.
The picture emblazoned on her flank - a crimson heart with rolls of gauze by the side - was still there, as proud as the day she had gotten it.
Alice was one of the few that had gotten lucky with her mark still being useful to the Empire. As it were, it was difficult to find jobs for ponies with marks dedicated to cultivating flowers or making cheese when the country needed soldiers, crystal welders and doctors.
Everyone had to adapt, one way or another.
The officer shook his head in an attempt to get back in order after checking that, indeed, her mark was there. She released the silent sigh she was holding hostage as he eased back into his chair.
His horn glowed, eyes scanning intently the words showing up in the crystal screen after he entered her identification.
“Purpose,” he finally said.
Alice blinked. “I… told you just now? What-”
“Purpose,” he interrupted in the same monotone.
“Erm…” She cleared her throat and dredged up her mind for what he might be looking for... What was their official name again? Oh!
“Training for assignment as Non-organized Variable Agent?” she offered.
He gave a slight nod. Or maybe that was just his mind drifting away. “Confirmed NoVA. Papers, please.”
She looked back at her stuffed saddlebags, magic grasping the bloated folder carrying all of the necessary certificates and vistas and checks and whatever else the Empire demanded from a volunteer.
She gently floated them to the little alcove where the officer would pick them up for dissection.
“Please hold,” he stated.
With not much else to gaze at without creeping on the fellow, Alice readjusted herself on the seat. Because of her long legs, the tips of her hind hooves were slipping on the cold stone floor where the old pillow didn’t reach and it was starting to bother her.
She noted a little speaker right above the crystal glass, quietly jamming out little patriotic tunes that were occasionally interrupted with a nice, pre-recorded message. At least the tones were warm and cheery to contrast the gray and blocky cubicle she was in.
Quick Cure had warned her to have patience, but the butterflies in her stomach wouldn’t listen. The stories she recounted about her work on Earth as one of the Fixers for the PER, of how many lives were saved on the frontlines and not on some stuffy, sterile room… how could she just sit by and wait? Every second could be a life spared of pain.
She even had organized her folder in alphabetical order to try and save some time. But the bureaucratic underbelly of the Empire was not a beast that could be rushed by the whims of those under it.
Nopony wanted it to trip and hit the ground, after all.
“There’s a discrepancy with your name, ma’am.” The stallion’s voice ripped her from her thoughts. “You said Alice” - her first name was spat out - “ LeBlanc, but there are records in the Canterlot General Board of Medicine that-”
“I changed it!” Alice interrupted him, wincing at her own exclamation. She looked back at the curtain to see if the guards outside had moved - she knew from experience that Earth veterans could be touchy about this. “Sorry. I spent quite some time under that... alias.”
She pointed through the glass to the folder he was holding. “The papers have my legal name,” she added.
The stallion on the other side readjusted his glasses, a hard expression on his face. “I’m obligated to inform you that bearing a name with explicit human origins is extremely discouraged on Imperial soil, ma’am.” He hunched closer to the glass. “Please, think of the Newfoals.”
“I know.” She sighed, chewing on her cheek. “This was from... before.”
“Of course...” He didn’t sound very pleased with the explanation. “Please hold.”
He rose from his seat and disappeared out the back.
Darn it. Cure had assured her the name wouldn’t be a problem with the Equestrian checkpoint - as long as her papers were in order. But the Earth checkpoint was harsher when it came to slights like these.
She hoped that little mistake wouldn’t cost her an even longer wait. Years of being called a name behind doors with close friends and later on actually changing it often accrued an unconscious habit that was hard to shake off.
Not that she ever wanted to shake it off. It meant too much at this point, the legality of it all be damned.
She fiddled around with her braided ponytail, little tufts of royal-blue mane entangling themselves on the red ribbon keeping it orderly. She went for a look of practicality, forgoing all the dress etiquette drilled into her head ever since she was a foal.
Just another aspect of her early life she’d rather not take to heart.
Instead, she opted to wear her cherished medical coat over her snowy white fur and added a simple tie to her long mane. The colors were so similar, one could barely notice where the coat ended and her fur began.
She remembered dozens of hours spent with the medical committee, being reprimanded for using the coat outside sterile medical facilities, for spending far too much time with her infirms, for wasting resources on lost causes...
Anyway, that committee was now busy with an increased income of patients and she was a whole world away from them. And they probably preferred it that way, the proud snobs.
The young stallion returned with her folder nestled in his forearm. She noticed it had been flash-scanned, if the little wafts of smoke coming off of it were anything to go by.
Somepony really wanted to make sure of the veracity of her documents, it seemed.
“Everything else seems to be in harmony. Please follow the guard waiting outside.” He pointed to her left, at the exit covered in a white, opaque sheen. A magical barrier. “He’ll take you to the hub and use the focus to teleport you to your destination. Glory to the Sun Queen.”
Picking up the monstrous pile of papers with her hooves so as to not magically burn her horn from the recent flash-scan, Alice stuffed them back in her saddlebags.
Finally being able to stand up from that uncomfortable seat, she turned and trotted through the field obscuring whatever lay before her.
As she passed through, she expected to be met with a sprawling sight full of colorful dots moving about in synchronized trots, some galloping around the perimeter as an angry-looking officer yelled at their backs, crates of weapons and supplies being transported from point to point. Enormous metal pillars stretching up to the heavens, supporting the arched crystal roofs that kept Earth’s weather from sullying Imperial operations and protected any communications using the proles from being tracked.
And, indeed, it was all there. But it was the details that differed.
Imagining a sight like this from the high towers of Canterlot was entirely different from experiencing it with her own eyes. She saw not the flowing architecture and uptight ponies walking the streets, but the straightforward and efficient engineering influenced by the Kirin and the preoccupied movements of all the creatures scuttling about.
One earth pony with a faded yellow coat wasn’t all that preoccupied, however, as he waited patiently for Alice to stop gawking all around, an understanding smile on his muzzle.
His face brightened once she finally looked at him.
“G’morning, ma’am. Name’s Trotted Path, 4th Trailblazers Company, Logistics Division. Welcome to our little slice of Equestria on Earth!” he proudly announced, straightening up with a half-hearted salute.
“Thank you for the warm welcome, Mr. Path...” Alice blinked, just remembering she was talking to a member of the Trailblazers. “Oh! Should I have referred to your rank? I don’t want to be disrespectful.”
Trotted Path dismissed her worries with a throw of his hoof, his smile still strong. “Heh, don’t worry about it. We barely talk to the recruits that pass by, might as well have a friendly chat.” He hunched over and pointed back at the cabin she’d just left, continuing in a faux whisper. “Don’t want my job sucking the life outta me like Paper Clip back there.”
Alice would have introduced herself as they started making their way around the site, but the assault on her senses was just too much to keep ignoring. So many industrial smells she’d never expected to breathe, so many metallic sounds making her ears twitch that she’d imagined only the heaviest of factories would ever produce.
A world her mind could have never done justice, for it drew from a well she had never drank from.
Everypony in Canterlot knew, to some extent, that the Empire sheltered them from the specifics of the war. It was to be expected: nopony wanted to hear all the dreadful news of the hundreds that have died just last hour, every hour.
Living with those constant reminders of misery was… miserable. And if nothing could be done to change what was the very nature of war, then why suffer meaninglessly?
But even if Alice found the reasoning sound, it did nothing to amaciate her sorrow at knowing most ponies would never get to experience this personally. The work being done by the bravest of Equus.
The ponies working on welding the metal beams, the hippogriffs barking off orders to the Newfoals with heavy materials on their backs, the zebras and their few marching units… this was a scene being shaped by them. And maybe one day, she’d help shape it as well.
But first, she had to earn it.
Alice followed Trotted Path closely as he slithered through the many ponies carrying boxes full of hoof mortars, disassembled crossbows and purple vials of various sizes. Everypony seemed to know where to go, and the urgency they needed to arrive there. Every time Alice thought two ponies might collide, they easily swayed off of each other’s path.
They passed by sky-boats that were neatly lined up near an enormous opening in the front of the facility, all being filled and fueled for long-range flights.
Alice wasn’t sure where exactly on Earth she was - the Equestrian checkpoint refused to tell her - but from what she remembered of studying Earth’s climate and geography, she’d guess the warmer areas of Europe.
Trotted Path, keeping to his promise of a friendly chat, decided to break the silence and pull Alice’s mind away from being lost in the sea of novelty.
“So! You’re going for -” his eyes quickly scanned the clipboard held on his fetlock “- Stalwart’s group? Hay and feathers, mare. Plenty of regiments needing good unicorns, you go and pick Stally’s mess?”
“Well… I’m not being assigned to her specifically,” she explained. “I’ll be tutored by the stallion. Mr. Crane, I believe. I… I’m not sure I’d be much help in a regiment just yet.”
“Stallion?” Path looked back at her, his face scrunched up in confusion. “Oh, the Fixer. Heh, good luck with that.”
As they walked and talked, Alice could see a tall crystal spire coming up further along. There were many Newfoal unicorns spread around it in a pattern that eluded her, with streams of magic connecting each other and the spire.
They were barely moving, eyes closed in concentration. Alice almost mistook them for statues at this distance.
“Suppose you picked well after all,” Path continued, not missing a step, “I’m all for more ponies in those Fixers, the fuckers.” He snorted derisively. “I know us Blazers are stretched as is, but… not a fan of relying on humans. PER or not.”
“What was that Path?” Alice heard a strong, deep voice suddenly intrude on their conversation. “Cussing like a human now?”
She turned her head to the source of the sound. There, lounging upon a sky-boat, was the most well-built stallion Alice had ever seen.
He was an earth pony with a lush coat the color of gravel, with combed locks of the darkest black mane suavelly hugging themselves around his toned neck.
His eyes were a fiery red that robbed your vision and forced you to look in their direction. The only itens concealing his form were the golden bands covering his whole shins.
And what a form! Did Her Majesty come down from the heavens and sculpt his body from a perfectly polished stone, chiseling it and leaving the perfectly sharp edges?
“Sorry, Granite.” Path shrugged his shoulders. “Enough time on Earth… you know the rest. Just running my mouth, as usual.”
Granite’s confident smile never wavered as he jumped down from the sky-boat. “Careful you don’t run it too much, my stallion. Willow hears ‘the f-word’, she’ll pop your head.” He turned to look at Alice. “And who’s this?”
Alice would have said something, where she not still flabbergasted at his sudden appearance. And his appearance. All she managed was opening and closing her mouth futilely.
Path decided to save her from further embarrassment. “The newest addition to the Fixers, from what I gather.”
“We still get those? Well, let me be the first to greet you, then!” He approached her with a disarming expression, offering his hoof. “Name’s Granite Fortress, Anchor for the Fixers.”
Alice shook it absentmindedly. He had a very firm grip. “My name’s- wait a minute... you’re an Anchor?”
That managed to bring her full faculties back. Anchors were supposed to be rare, right? Quick Cure had said something about them, being one herself. Fixers had some sort of hierarchy, though right now Alice couldn’t recall what exactly it was.
“Why hello there, Ms. Wait-a-minute.” He grinned cheekily at her. “Yes I am. Bunch of equestrians got promoted in the Fixers, and I was in that bunch. Long time ago, though.”
He let her hoof go, disarming smile still ever present. “Say, d’you already have a trainer? Can’t imagine you got through Quick Sight without one.”
She recalled the letter she received in her family’s estate on Canterhorn Plaza. Signed by Sir Quick Sight, approving of her request to be trained and initiated into the Fixers.
She nodded, shoving the embarrassing unladylike yell she gave that morning into the back of her mind. “Indeed I do. He assigned me to Mr. Crane.”
“Crane?” Granite said, surprised. “Well, fluff me. You look more like Quick Cure’s kind of gal, what with the medical coat. But I suppose Sight knows his stuff.”
“You know Quick Cure?” she asked, interested piqued.
“Know her?” Granite’s eyes glazed far away. “She was the best combat-medic we’ve ever had. Saved me and Willow more times than I can count. Even Quick Sight once, though he won’t admit it.”
Oh. So it was from before Cure arrived in Canterlot General. Before they met each other.
“She never mentioned...” Alice started, not really knowing where to go with that.
“Ah, right…” The somber expression in Granite’s face was an undesirable squatter in a sunny villa. “Well, those’re not the best times. Pretty sure she went to a mind-healer after. Hope she’s doing better in Equestria.”
Alice opened her mouth to reply, but a static crackle stopped her. “Fortress. Return to Canterlot ASAP. Golden Nova wants to talk to you. Bring Willow. This message will re-”
The stallion tapped the little crystal in one of his golden hoof guards. Alice had missed them earlier. “Whelp, that’s my cue. G’luck with Crane… and don’t mind his attitude. He’ll warm up quick enough.”
With that, Granite left them, quickly trotting over to another crystal spire on the other side of the compound.
He looked even better from the back... No, bad Alice. Leave the nice stallion alone.
Path had a restrained grin on his muzzle, as if remembering an inside joke. “Congratulations, miss. You just survived meeting with Granite Fortress without being hugged to death. Guy’s a softy... well, until you get in the training ring, that is.”
He rubbed his foreleg, looking at where Granite had gone with something resembling a grimace. “Bucker almost broke my leg,” Alice heard him whisper to himself.
They had to stop right in front of a whole section of ponies marching in tandem, doing their daily routine around the checkpoint. Their numbers were large enough that Alice couldn’t count each head, but their hooves stomping the ground quickly and with force spoke of dozens of souls, ready and willing to fight.
Path clearing his throat grabbed Alice’s attention. “Sorry miss, but I have to ask: did you have somepony in Canterlot to help you get in the Fixers? Family or the like?” Alice could almost feel Path’s face souring. “Can’t imagine the apes there wouldn’t raise a fuss otherwise.”
She couldn’t hold back a quick chuckle at the absurdity of his claim. “Oh, I assure you, the last thing my family would do is help me get to where I am.”
His eyes widened in understanding. “Ah, I see. Fair enough. I’m a Fillydelphia colt myself, so I don’t much get all the family feuds and Guild clashes of you Canterlotians.”
He seemed to wince after speaking that, turning his neck back with a sheepish smile. “Erm, no offense.”
Alice gave him a weak shrug, managing a small smile despite herself. “Can’t be offended if it’s true.”
As they finally arrived at the crystal focus, Alice saw a squad of pegasi - more Trailblazers, judging by their light armour - being warped out of existence. Probably being teleported somewhere else for one of their various specialized missions.
A natural-born pegasus mare with a fiery coloration was at the helm of the dozen or so Newfoals spread around, flying above them for a better view. She was shouting orders for them to reposition as they quickly, and effectively, arranged themselves in the right spots.
Trotted Path signaled for the mare to come down and hoofed her the clipboard he was carrying.
“G’morning, Cinder,” he greeted her. “One ‘port, PER cell. Coordinates are right here.” He pointed to a line in the paper.
Cinder frowned at him, her voice scratchy. “Newfoals are getting tired, Path. I just sent a squad to help out settlers in North Africa.”
She quickly scanned the clipboard, tapping it with a wing. “This is really far for a single mare, you know?”
Path shrugged. “She’s with the Fixers. Got a problem, send it to Nova’s office and handle that hassle yourself.”
“Fixers? They still kicking?” Cinder shook her head, her yellow cropped mane barely moving. “Bah, better the Newfoals with a headache than me.” She huffed and, with a beat of her wings, rose back up.
“Hey, Bright Star!” Cinder shouted over to a pile of wooden boxes. “Need a natural-born here, this one’s long-range.”
A unicorn stallion popped his head above one of the large boxes, a scowl slowly forming on his face. He trotted over while grumbling to himself, using his telekinesis to pick up a Newfoal mare and sliding her aside to make space for him.
Once everything was in place, Alice was instructed by Cinder to stand in the center of the formation and in front of the pillar, much like the squad before her.
This was it. Just one step away from being out, miles away from any pony civilization.
Waiting for her letters to arrive, waiting for the background checks, waiting in line, waiting for the officer at the booth to finally let her through… those were all mind numbing, easy to lose herself. Now? It’d be worth it. No going back. Not until she was done.
She ignored the cold feeling rising up in her gut.
Path remained outside the circle, but gave her a friendly wave. “Alright. Been a while since we ‘ported somepony to a PER cell. Bit of a warning: Stalwart’s got a very old crystal focus - PER’s at the bottom of the list for resupply - so the ‘port won’t be as clean as we usually have ‘em.” Path looked up at Cinder and she threw him an okay sign with her wing. “You might have to trot a bit ‘till you find her.”
Alice nodded, a bit uncertain. “Canada, right? I got this.” She patted her stuffed saddlebags, comforted in knowing she had prepared everything.
“Cumberland County. Somewhere in the woods south of Wallace. They’ve been having some heavy winds there.” The crystal on the breast of Path’s armor glowed in a specific pattern of blinks. “Alright! Stalwart’s pinged us back. May the Unconquered Sun shine bright on your path... and convert a human for us!”
“Alright you sacks of mana, power it up!” Cinder barked from above. “You too, Bright!”
Alice noted how content the Newfoals looked, helping the natural-borns to the best of their abilities. She could only imagine how much of a contrast it was to their lives before, surviving on a dying planet on the cusp of losing a war.
Bright Star only grumbled in his corner, horn lighting up.
As the streams of mana being fed into the spire got thicker and thicker, a heavy white glow shone brighter right above Alice until everything around her took on the same shade.
A moment later, and everything on the Earth checkpoint slowly dissipated from her blurry view, as if her eyes were watering too much.
Path’s waving self was the last thing she could discern, until she discerned no more.
***
Alice could hear the loud pop of her entrance fading in the background as her hooves found the soft soil beneath them.
The sudden change in the ambience was noticeable as shivers made their way up her spine and a loud whooshing noise took up most of her hearing.
Taking a look around, she didn’t spot any significant landmarks. All around her were unfamiliar tall trees and uneven ground. Path did say she was going to be a bit displaced, but he had failed to mention by how much exactly.
Hopefully not much.
Deciding on a direction, Alice started making her way weaving by the trees and pushing through the light snow covering the ground.
Unlike most ponies, she had never walked on snowy ground before - when the Crystal War came, she was too young to be drafted. And Canterlot wasn’t a very good place to experience it: the weather teams were ordered to do their best at keeping sunny skies, even during Hearthswarming.
She was expecting it to be… mushy. Turns out, snow felt much more like fine compacted sand rubbing itself at every press of her hooves. Maybe that was an Earth thing?
The colors here were also more faded than what she was used to - even though her family’s estate was also big on white-on-even-more-white. But that only accentuated the few spots dotted with some yellow flowers and the glimmer of the sun reflecting on them.
She almost dared say it was its own kind of beautiful, but the incredibly loud wind was holding back that praise. It was biting at her extremities, pinching her ears and robbing her of her warmth in the short couple minutes of being exposed.
She could barely hear her own thoughts.
Alice pulled the lapel of her coat up as she dodged a large branch hidden by the snow - to try and shield some of her face as she trudged forward. It protected her cheeks well enough, but her ears were still being victims of the wind’s whispers.
Well, unfortunately for Nature’s chaos, this mare had come prepared!
She stopped and floated out some of her documentation from her saddlebags, almost sticking her muzzle in them to look for her favourite white beanie. There were so many things crammed inside, it was hard to spot the little wool accessory.
A sudden metallic sound, similar to a lever being pulled up and down, broke the constant white noise of the wind.
Startled, her magic shorted out and her papers swayed down to the snowy ground.
“Keep that horn dimmed or you’re dead,” a hoarse voice, gruff and laced with danger.
Alice managed to restrict her movement to a small jerk of her neck upwards, ears not knowing whether to hide in her mane or stay up to hear the apparent threat better.
Whoever was beside her - a human man, judging by the tone and angle of the voice - had just pulled on something that definitely wasn’t a hoof-held camera.
A deadly something, going by his words.
“Don’t turn your head,” he warned, “just identify yourself.”
His voice was stripped of emotion, carrying just a slight edge. Stronger than she’d have judged it capable of being, from how abused his vocal chords sounded like.
This was bad.
She knew the basics of self-defense and even took some pride in her ability to create personal protective bubbles - the Empire stressed that every unicorn should be able to maintain a shield - but that was it.
She didn’t know any offensive spells, so she’d be stuck hoping this man ran out of patience before she ran out of mana. If she could even cast it before he did... whatever it was that he could do. Was that… a gun?
It had to be. Was Stalwart’s cell under attack? Is that why there were humans with guns here already? Could she yell over the wind in the hopes somepony heard it?
No. She could barely hear the man right behind her as it was. Any desperate calls would be lost to the hills.
“Your number,” he stressed the word, losing patience.
Alice couldn’t keep the stutter out of her voice. “N-number? I don’t-”
“PHL tags,” he interrupted, “or HLF identification. Don’t fuck with me, I know Yarrow’s split has ponies in 'em. You better give me something.”
Alice breathed in and out, trying to calm herself. All that did was encourage her hyperventilation.
Her mind was failing to conjure up a believable lie. All she could think about was how much time she was wasting thinking about her wasted time- STOP.
She was scrambling to come up with something, anything. Did she read about how the human groups identified each other?
There were… uh… three? UNAC, PHL... Wait. Those were the same. Were they? She couldn’t remember! Why did she read so much about human architecture and art and so little about their warring factions?
“Guess no one’s going to miss you, then.”
No!
“EMU-016180!” she shouted at the ground.
“Huh?” there was obvious disbelief in his tone, not as forceful as before.
Did… did it work? It was the only number she could speak convincingly enough... Could she breathe normally now?
“...Well, congratulations.” His voice took back its hard edge. “You just signed your own death warrant.”
What?
Oh. Oh no. She gave him an Imperial identification. To a human.
And he recognized it!
“Wait! Please don’t-!” she started turning her head to beg him. To reason with him. To do something!
The next few seconds proceeded like dripping tar. She heard a faint groan of cold metal being pressured. It gave way to a satisfying ‘click’ of finality.
Not one thought was fast enough to pass through her sluggish mind. Not one emotion managed to manifest itself on her face.
An explosion rose up above the wind and deafened her senses, shaking her to the very core. A cold feeling splashed into Alice’s muzzle. Her eyes squinted in an unconscious reaction. Her words died in her lips.
A moment passed. Then two. Her mind slowly came back to its usual function, no longer held down by the sudden desperation.
It had been a gun. He had shot her. She was...
Unharmed?
Alice carefully opened her eyes as they frantically scanned her surroundings, trying to make sense of what just happened.
There was a spot in the ground where she noticed the snow had been moved. Like a whip had snapped there, flecks of clumped snow and dirt patterned the white ground.
Some of it had splattered her muzzle, but she didn’t feel like there were any new holes in her body.
All she could feel was a faint ringing in her ears and the beating of her heart.
Her old medical professor - Doctor Sinew - piped up from the back of her memories, telling her all she had was sudden temporary tinnitus and a faster heartbeat - just barely sinus tachycardia. Nothing worth crying about.
According to him, she was the typical mare with an affinity for catecholamine. Bastard.
“Shame. Really thought PHL had stepped up their game.” The man muttered as his boots crushed the snow, cautiously getting closer. “All right, what’s an Imperial doing all the way out here?”
The sudden casual tone of the voice made her turn.
Right behind her was a human man squatting down and looking at the papers she’d let drop. He had a small gun - a pistol! - on one hand, slightly pointed down as his forearms rested on his knees. There was a larger and much meaner-looking gun strapped to his back.
Was that what he had pointed at her? That thing was almost as long as she was!
“Wha…?” Alice breathed out, some remains of hyperventilation still leaving her system.
“Breathe. You’re off the hook.” He shot her a quick glance. “An Opposer wouldn’t stand there and get shot. Plus, nobody can fake these flash-scans.” Alice wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or himself as he perused her documentation.
The man’s visage chilled her. No matter how many times she saw a human, they would always be captivating to think about.
All the little facial expressions and their combinations. The minutiae of their speech necessary to convey the context that a creature without a tail and moving ears couldn’t… the tragedy that such a being was plagued by a violent nature despite its desire for rationality and kindness.
She could never bring herself to hate them as some in the Royal Guard did. Admittedly, she had not witnessed the Army’s suffering at human hands, either.
This one in particular looked weary. His face had fading scars and eyes made to fool somepony into thinking they were tired and inactive. But she recognized that glint behind those hazel dots.
The way they every so often snapped up to her and went back, how they glided over the scenery to mask disinterest… he was watching Alice, still waiting for her to make a move.
She was reminded of Cure’s recountings of human soldiers. The sleek armour that looked like cloth instead of enchanted metal, the gun strapped to his back that was as dangerous as five crossbows shot together, the willingness to use it without second thought.
But that made no sense. The human military on Earth would not spare her if they knew she was an Imperial. They were at war, much as she disliked it.
She didn’t know the political landscape as well as she’d have liked, but she was told all humans fell into two groups: those who would harm her for being a loyal Imperial, and those who wouldn’t. And that meant...
“Are you... with the PER?” she tentatively offered. Perhaps a bit too trusting, but she was still reeling from the whiplash of Trotted Path’s friendly welcome to... this.
His gaze bore into her for a few seconds, then he pulled out a little purple vial, thin and easy to hide, from inside his backpack and held it out for her to see. “Last time I checked, yeah. Careful throwing those letters around, though.”
He put the vial back and collected the pages laying in the ground, holding them in front of his face. “You didn’t answer my question,” he added.
Alice, calming down now, collected her scattered thoughts and answered. “I was looking for Stalwart Stasis’ group...”
Hold on a minute, why was she the one being questioned? She had clearance from the Empire. What did this man have?
Alice shook her head, a frown crossing her face. “Wait, nevermind that, you shot me!”
The man clicked his tongue. “At you. Don’t worry about it. Wind like this? Nobody heard a thing.”
Alice puffed her cheeks out. “That’s not the point!”
The man rolled his eyes. “Yes, I shot you. That’s what guns do. What did you want? Bloody biscuits?”
“Bloody…?” Alice stuck her tongue out at that mental image. “Ew. Just... no. But also not a gun!”
He raises an inquisitive brow at her, papers lowered. “You’re not Royal Guard material, definitely not a Trailblazer... you look like a doctor.” A shadow fell, his eyes hardening. “Don’t tell me you're a volunteer.”
“Is... is that a problem?”
Her question prompted a low chuckle to himself. With no mirth or happiness, it sounded too much like a scoff. The insincerity was palpable, almost desperate.
Shaking his head, he stood up and offered her papers back. “Come on. We’re just couple minutes away.”
***
Crane carefully observed the tall mare as they walked back to the lodge, making sure to stay a bit behind her. With his left arm swinging with his stride, he keep his right hand stationary near the hip, where his P365 was. Just in case.
She gave a little gasp as she saw the lodge come up, horn lighting up with a cold blue glow. Out of her saddlebags came a little notebook and quill, with which she quickly started drafting something.
She had the excitement of a bookworm filly who’d read about something and was just now seeing it with her eyes.
His fingers had twitched at the sudden shimmer on her forehead, but he managed to stay his hand. It was just a basic spell, nothing offensive.
Stretching his neck to see over her azure mane, he noted she was making quick sketch of the scenery. As her eyes quickly jumped from detail to detail, the quill drew all the images she sent through her telekinesis, as if it had an excited little life of its own. A pretty good draft, if he dared say.
Her notes looked horrible though. Written hastily, resembling a bunch of scribbles made by a bunch of chicken pecking around, dripping ink on the page. Crane swore one of the words was literally just a scratched line with dots.
A doctor, indeed.
She was so focused in her intense note-taking, she didn’t even notice as two newcomers walked outside through the front door, talking to each other. Stalwart was in the front, her face looking back, while Scauper looked as if he’d been rudely woken up.
Actually, Scauper looked like hell. He had lost even more feathers, one of his wings was slightly unfurled and his eyes were squinted.
“Just go out and find him,” Stalwart said, exasperated. “We’ve got a volunteer coming and I want everypony here for it.”
Scauper, for his credit, only grumbled at having yet another task on his claws. Though he quickly eased himself into a relaxed stance as he spotted Crane and the new mare in the background.
The griffon tried repressing a smirk but Crane saw the corners of his beak twitching slightly. “Sure thing, boss,” he said with a self-assured tone, pointing a claw at Crane. “Found ‘im. Now, can I go back to nappin’?”
Stalwart seemed confused for just a moment. Her drooping ears warned Crane the moment she figured it out, as the mare quickly turned around with practiced hoofwork.
Crane shouted over the wind, “Found your ‘volunteer’, Stalwart. Popped right as I was patrolling. Why the hell are we taking more recruits?”
“Celestia smite me…” Stalwart muttered, then continued in a louder voice, “I’ll explain it all inside. Better have everyone there to hear it at once.”
“You better.” Crane said and started walking towards them.
He stopped as he noticed the new mare was still blissfully lost in her drawing, the quill furiously adding some finishing touches to the paper.
She was looking at it intensely now, and some strands of her blue mane had fallen in front of her face despite the braid. The world might as well be considered just a backdrop.
Once again, totally oblivious. Did she learn nothing?
He snapped his fingers right next to her ear, making it reflexively hide away as she squeaked some weird noise and fizzled out her magic.
Crane caught the book before it hit the ground, expecting a magical shortage much like earlier.
“Got to work on that composure, volunteer.” He suppressed the little upturn of his mouth and kept his voice neutral as he held the book out.
She huffed back at him, snatching it from his outstretched hand and securing it back in her saddlebags.
“Glad you arrived safely, Ms. LeBlanc.” Stalwart said, once they all were under the porch. “Sergeant Path gave me a very late warning about your arrival. I hope it was a decent journey.”
LeBlanc then. Unusual name for a pony, but it fit with her pristine white fur. Hell, with the blue mane and that sneaky red ribbon tying her braid, she looked like a perfect mascot for France. Joanne’s going to love her.
“Sergeant Stasis.” LeBlanc nodded respectfully, putting some weird emphasis on the ranking. “It was a bit disorienting, but overall fine. Thank you for having me.”
“Don’t thank her yet, filly. You haven’t seen the mess she’s got on her hooves.” Scauper sniggered from his place, leaning on the doorframe.
Stalwart squinted her eyes at the griffon. “Do you want a permanent nap, Scauper?”
“Naw,” he said, a shit-eating grin forming on his beak. “That’s more Coffee’s thing, innit? Appreciate the offer, though.”
Crane could almost hear Stalwart grinding her teeth, yet he spotted a hint of a blush at the tip of her ears.
Stalwart could handle one snippy bastard - sometimes admirably so - but two? And together? That was a job beyond most leaders in the PER.
Crane would know. He had the unfortunate experience of having to lead one such cell for a couple of days. He was relieved to hand them over to their new leader - a gangly pegasus who would probably break in his first month.
He cleared his throat. “Alright. You three can stay out here discussing Stalwart's sex life if you want, but I’m out of this wind.” He pushed open the door, looking away from Stalwart to hide his little smirk.
***
The rather large fireplace had been lit while Crane was out patrolling, with Dice sitting beside it like a dog with a lit horn - filtering the smoke so it wouldn’t trail outside. He noted she had her eyes closed and a toothy smile pushed her cheeks up.
Felicia was sitting right in front of the blazing embers and humming a little tune, skinny hands warming in front of the fire while Bart and Coffee shared the couch right behind her.
Bucky had to stand up beside them, seeing as the bulk of the large man and stocky earth pony was occupying the whole couch. He didn’t seem to mind, though, as he was lost in a rather hefty book floating in front of his muzzle.
“Alright, everypony,” Stalwart started, standing straight and making everyone look in her direction. “I’d like to introduce you to-”
She never got to finish, interrupted by a grinning Felicia appearing in front of them in one flash and three hops. Almost touching LeBlanc’s face, much to the latter’s surprise.
“Oh my Celestia. Hi there! I’m Felicia Esperanto. What’s your name?” Felicia blurted out.
LeBlanc was taken back at the sudden invasion of her personal space. She tried her best to keep her eyes away from the ghastly burns on the woman's cheek and neck, but that was a difficult job considering they were suddenly all that the mare could see.
Felicia noticed it. Crane saw how she slightly turned her head to the left, pulling back a bit. How her smile was just slightly dimmer than before.
LeBlanc deftly cleared her throat and put on a warm, reassuring tone. “Well, a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Esperanto. I’m Alice LeBlanc.”
Crane’s eyes widened slightly from his place in the back. Seems like he had been hasty in calling her surname unusual.
Felicia gasped, putting her hands in front of her mouth and looking for all the world like she’d just witnessed a puppy being dropped. “Oh, you poor thing. I’m so, so sorry.”
“Erm… for what, exactly?” Alice asked, her head turned in confusion.
“For being given a nasty human name, of course. It couldn’t have been easy.”
“Oh, that? Heh, actually, I was the one that chose it.” Alice rubbed the back of her neck with a hoof, a sheepish smile on her muzzle.
Felicia seemed at a loss. “You did? I-I didn’t... uh...” She switched her gaze over between Crane and Stalwart, as if begging for some help.
He gave a noncommittal shrug. It was unusual, sure, but hardly what he was worrying over. She could’ve been called Sprinkledink McGee for all that it mattered.
What he wanted to know was why she was here. New recruits don’t just show up these days - Penelope, rest her soul, had been the last they ever got.
Stalwart was willing to take it from there, not looking the least bit surprised by the name. “Names aside, I was informed yesterday Alice was going to be assigned to us, effective immediately...”
A smile grew on her face. A sickly sweet smile that she made a point to direct it towards Crane. “Would you like to inform us as to why, Ms. LeBlanc?”
That was not the smile of good news, at least not to whom it was directed. And of course the direction was his.
Alice nodded, oblivious to the tension brewing. “Gladly. I’m here for a two-month period, to be under the tutelage of Mr. Crane as a trainee to the Fixers, under the approval of Quick Sight,” she stated matter-of-factly.
What.
If her name had shocked everyone near the hearthy fire before, this new revelation had stunned them silent. Even both Newfoals looked around, confused at everyone’s confusion.
Crane could barely form a sentence. A Fixer trainee? That made no sense. Fixers didn’t get new recruits, not since Europe fell. If anything, they were losing people by the day - Portland alone had cost them three members, even if they had been just Frighteners.
And that was without touching on the fact that he was supposed to train her? Who the hell thought saddling him up with a unicorn was a good idea? All he knew about offensive spells was how to not get hit by them.
The silent mood was having an effect on Alice. What was initially a confident expression quickly morphed into confusion. Then uncertainty. Crane - through the haze going by his head - noted that she seemed to be chewing her cheek as her eyes darted left and right.
It was Bart that broke the shocked silence.
“Crane… the fuck is wrong with you?”
Crane leered at the burly man, his brows knitting together. “Don’t put this on me. I didn’t ask for her.”
Alice snapped her head back at him, eyes widening. “Wait… you’re the Fixer? But you’re a human!”
A quick unbuttoning of his sleeve and a flick of his arm showed her the PDA that denoted his function. “How many ponies you know named Frank?”
“I know plenty named Crane!” she exclaimed, stomping the linoleum floor.
“Well then you got me beat. I don’t know any named Alice.” He stressed her name out and turned on Stalwart, pointing an accusing finger at her. “You set this up, didn’t you?”
“Her entry was signed and none of the captains in the Guard vetoed it.” Stalwart said simply, shrugging one shoulder.
“Of course they didn’t. They leave that shit to Nova.” Crane locked his arms together. “Send her to Granite - he loves training new ponies. Or Willow, or any of the other Anchors. Just not me.”
Alice frowned slightly. “I wasn’t exactly given a choice on this matter either.”
“Stalwart had a choice,” he rebutted. “Could’ve denied it, told them we’re maxed out. Which we are.”
Stalwart bristled. “We are also without a way to deliver a foal!”
Her ears were stiff, and Crane could see the veins lightly popping on her neck. This had been eating at her for a while.
She took a calming breath before continuing in a quieter tone. “I’m not going to turn down somepony with medical experience. Human hospitals will have Seeker tagged as PER the moment she doesn’t present them identification.”
Crane knew that well enough. Without an equestrian identification, there was no way to get Seeker out of whatever hospital delivered her baby. And considering her past as a Bureau doctor… yeah, that wouldn’t be pretty.
“You’ve got a mare expecting?” Crane heard Alice whisper to Scauper in the background.
He noted the griffon clicking his beak. “Told ya it was a right mess, didn’t I?”
Crane tuned them out as he put a hand on his chin and focused on the problem.
Nobody in their group knew how to deliver a foal, except for the pregnant mare herself. He had hoped to come up with a plan before she got into labor, but the past couple of days had put a lot on his mind. The pain in his leg still spiked every so often.
Stealing an ERIC - a nifty acronym for equestrian refugee identification codes - wouldn’t be too hard, but considerably risky. And a shitty move. Pretty much damning whomever he stole it from to the life of a nobody. Seeker would never accept it.
Stalwart did have a point. Add to it the fact that apparently Quick Sight had signed this and Golden Nova hadn’t vetoed it… yeah, Crane knew this mare was staying.
But maybe he could still squeeze something out of this. Adding another mouth to the table might just break it. They had to get another source of food, and that meant...
“Fine. I’ll do it.”
Stalwart huffed, satisfied. “I’m glad.”
Crane pointed to Alice, who still looked a little lost. “She and I will be getting a mission for today, then.”
Stalwart’s mouth snapped down. “Oh the buck you will. I already told you: one week. At least.”
His gaze bore into the mare. “You want another member, you need more supplies. Scauper is dead on his claws the way he’s flying back and forth. This is unsustainable and you know it.”
Silence was all that met his remark. Stalwart’s deep orange eyes were sizzling him faster than eggs in a frying pan, her face not even twitching.
Her lack of a rebuttal was telling. She didn’t disagree, but she wasn’t entirely on board either.
Crane decided to roll back and try another route, for that final push. “Stalwart, I’m back to shape. I can barely feel the pain in my leg anymore,” he lied through his teeth. “Besides, I’m training her, right? Do you really want us making a racket here and risk attracting somebody, wind be damned?”
Stalwart finally turned her chin down, taking a deep breath. She didn’t have her eyes closed, but her gaze was far away.
Felicia put a comforting hand on the mare’s withers. “He… might have a point, Stally. Everyday we spend here is a day we’re not helping save humanity.”
Bart was nodding as well, though he still gave Crane the stink-eye. “Wouldn’t mind going back out to fuck the PHL over. For Penny,” he added quietly from the couch.
Stalwart deflated. “Fine. However! I’ll be the one setting the rules. And Crane won’t leave without fixing that bucking mess.” She pointed to the still broken PDA on his forearm.
Crane gave her a curt nod, satisfied with what he got. Just getting out would do wonders to his psyche - relaxing for a day or two was good, but with the impending storm on the horizon? He’d much prefer making sure he had an umbrella.
“Did you ever find those tools, Bucky?” Felicia piped up from her place next to Stalwart.
The stallion lowered his book, oblivious to the tension previously in the room. “Unfortunately not. I haven't the faintest idea where they disappeared to.”
Alice’s ears perked up at that, her head tilted slightly to the left. “Tools? For crystal welding? I saw some pointy shapes stuck on the roof, when I was sketching.”
Alice magically opened her notebook and floated it over to Bucky. “Looked like crystal-tipped tuning poles to me. Didn’t fit with any human architecture I’ve ever read about - not even lightning rods.”
Bucky’s face brightened. “That’s them! Sharp eyes, Ms. Leblanc. Thank you so much.”
“You’re more than welcome, mister…?”
Bucky folded his leg over his chest, bowing his neck. “Do-it. Bucky Do-it, crystal architecture and engineering, at your service.”
Crane made a fine point of looking straight at Felicia.“How the bloody hell did they get on the roof, I wonder.” He slathered his voice in sarcasm.
The woman just rolled her eyes, the pink frosted tips of her hair bouncing around. “Skies and Joanne were playing outside. Something about ‘harnessing the power of lightning’. Maybe it was that?”
Crane narrowed his eyes. “Did you-?”
“No,” Felicia interrupted. “Joanne’s old enough to come up with her own shenanigans, Crane. You should know - I heard about the Italian PER.” She finished with a large teasing smile.
Italy… what a mess. Europe as a whole had been. He was younger, a lot less restrained, PER was still somewhat young and more daring in their actions, with a lot more leeway.
They were all riding higher than they should.
Literally. His old group hijacked a helicopter - an old EC155 - from the Bundespolizei, hours before the Barrier swallowed Munich. He had faked an injury to the policemen running rescue, making them fly higher to lessen his apparent blood pressure.
High enough in the skies that a quick swab of potion to the back of the neck wouldn’t doom them to a Newfoal pilot crashing on the buildings.
A lot of stories came out of there, a lot of myths were born. Some memories that Crane cherished dearly. Some that he wasn’t particularly proud of.
“Aha. That’s the face of somepony who’s reminiscing~” Felicia chirped, wagging a finger.
Crane didn’t bother acknowledging her, losing himself in the large windows and the snowy countryside shown in them.
Barth harrumphed from the couch, looking at the flickering embers. “Fucking Skies. Figures the Opposer bitch would be the one losing our shit. Bet she was planing this from the start.”
At the mention of the pegasus, the room took on an uncomfortable atmosphere. Alice was the only one who looked lost.
“Mr. Vega, I understand not being... thrilled with Ms. Skies actions, but let’s not be too forward here. It’s not as though… as though she went to the PHL. Or anything of the sort,” Bucky said, unsure of his words.
Bart gave a single, booming guffaw. It sounded to Crane like a bear coughing its lungs out. “Yeah, right. She was just taking a stroll outside for some fresh air, no warning us or nothing. And this asshat blew her fucking shoulder out for the hell of it... know what?” He sneered towards Crane. “I sincerely fucking believe that last bit.”
Crane’s nails dug into his palms, though he maintained a neutral face. “Don’t pretend to know what I have to do and why I do it.”
Bart scoffed in return. “You Fix-its and all that hush-hush bullshit. I’d much rather just throw those government-loving, corporate-licking bastards some well-deserved potion.”
Crane tried, but failed to keep his face from twitching. “Fixers,” he corrected in a forced tone.
Stalwart stomped her hoof. “I will be deciding what to do with Skies, after Crane interrogates her,” she said, leaving no room for argument. “Now, somepony go get Bucky’s tools. My crystal focus hasn’t seen this much use ever since Washington, and the old girl is getting testy.”
***
Dice turned out to be the one to go outside and get the poles stuck in the roof. They were a bit dented at the tips and frozen all over, but the crystals seemed just fine. According to Bucky, that was all that mattered.
They decided to go up to Seeker’s shared bedroom for the scholarly stallion to have his desk to work in peace. Crane noted that Alice had followed him upstairs and away from the warm fireplace, though decided not to comment on it.
Crane wouldn’t want to be near Bart either. The chip on that wanker’s shoulder just seemed to grow.
Seeker wasn’t inside the very well-kept room, with all its furniture neatly cleaned and properly aligned. He heard she had insisted on keeping the same bedroom, nevermind that she was pregnant and it was on the second floor
If you could call a internal veranda overlooking a lobby ‘the second floor’.
Crane could hear some comotion inside the bathroom that was annexed in the back of the room, and figured that’s where the mare was. Joanne was supposed to be up here too, but she was nowhere to be seen. That girl could be quite sneaky when she wanted to.
Bucky seemed completely ignorant of the lack of people. He focused entirely on arranging all his tools on the desk, ordering them by size and utility. He fumbled a bit with two poles that apparently had the same length, then shrugged and put both on top of each other.
Once satisfied, he nodded and pulled Crane’s arm with his magic, plopping a stool for him to sit his flank and work on the crystal contraption. All the while humming an annoying little tune.
Crane didn’t get a stool, so he had to awkwardly hunch over and watch as all the metal poles floated around with precision, every so often having arcs of electricity jump between them and his PDA.
Just as he started losing himself counting the wrinkles of the wood in the desk, he faintly heard the click of a door being unlocked.
A soft voice broke through his bored self. “My Celestia. I didn’t quite believe Bucky when he told me. Four days and you don’t even come up greet me, Francis?”
That was Seeker’s voice, the earth pony mare standing right in front of the bathroom. She had a light-red coat bordering on brown with a maroon mane, cut short. It reminded Crane of a slightly longer pixie cut.
She looked visibly pregnant. Way more than Crane would’ve expected since he last saw her. Three months ago, nobody even suspected she might be carrying, yet there she was, looking like she’d been at it for six months.
If they got hit by one of the HLF groupies or, even worse, a PHL raid… she wouldn’t be able to outrun them. She was already a bit unstable on her hooves as it were. It was a grim thought, but one that couldn’t escape his mind.
All the more reason to deal with this new threat in the northwest as soon as possible. The longer they waited, the worse it could be.
Crane cleared his throat from his uncomfortable position. “Ah, morning, Seeker. Sorry about that, I was busy helping the Newfoals seal some of the windows, then Stalwart wanted help making glue grenades with the last of our solidifying paint...”
Seeker held her hoof up, stopping him. “I understand completely, Mr. Crane.” There was a warm, motherly smile touching her muzzle. “I, for one, am glad we have you back. Sun knows my bloated flank will need it.”
“You look fine,” he said. “When are you due?”
“I honestly don’t know. The spells I have are not really suited for obstetrics. I’d much rather work with Newfoals than actual foals.” She chuckled. “They kick less.”
Alice choose that moment to clear her throat and make herself known. “Excuse me, Ms. Seeker? I believe I could help with that.”
Seeker turned to look at the voice, surprise on her face. “Oh my. Pardon me, dear. I didn’t even see you there.”
Alice had a comforting smile, the kind you expect to see on a friend bringing good news. “That’s quite alright. I’m Doctor LeBlanc.”
Seeker gave an acknowledging nod, then put a hoof to her breast. “Thrill Seeker, Newfoal physiologist. I know, not a very fitting name for an old mare like me.”
Crane scoffed at that. She looked barely five years older than Alice herself, even with the foal on the way.
Seeker continued unperturbed, “You’re from Canterlot General, I assume?”
Alice nodded surprised, with her mouth hanging slightly open at the accurate guess.
“I knew it. I could never forget those customized medical coats. They were a hit on the Bureaus,” she explained, pointing at the accessory in question.
Alice looked at her own white coat - no, not her fur - and smiled, fondling her lapel. “Well, they are quite comfortable.”
Seeker approached Bucky, still slaving away on the crystal device. “Bucky, you didn’t tell me there were new ponies!” She gave him a playful jab in the flank.
The stallion jolted with a shrill whine, neatly combed mane momentarily disheveled. Crane suppressed a snicker, though he didn’t bother hiding a smirk.
Bucky settled down with a nervous chuckle, hoof dusting his brown vest. “Sorry, dear. Stalwart sprung this up on us just today.”
“Blast.” Seeker cursed, her brows knitted together. “Of course she did. Let me guess: she wants you to do the labor.”
That had been directed at Alice, who rubbed a foreleg sheepishly. “Well, my specialty is mnemology but… I have some experience with parturition.” She looked up with a timid smile. “Emergency shifts are no joke, heh.”
“Oh, that mare.” Seeker said, her tail flicking angrily. “As if stopping Bart from converting wasn’t enough, she rips a doctor from Canterlot - one with emergency training no less! I swear, I’ve never met a more stubborn pony.”
“It’s no problem at all.” Alice said. “I actually chose to come here, originally. To train under -” something caught on her throat “- Mr. Crane.”
Seeker’s right brow spiked up as she turned towards Crane. She didn’t look very pleased, judging by the tight-lipped smile forced on.
He put his free hand up, palm outstretched. “Don’t look at me. I didn’t know.”
Seeker was still staring at him, the hints of a frown ebbing their way in, just to be sweeped away in afterthought. Like motes of dust that the owner found undesirable.
Crane shifted around uncomfortably, hand still being held in place.
“Well…” Her face finally settled back on its warm features. “Today is just full of sur-”
“Aha!”
A shout. Of course it had been Bucky, his stool falling backwards as he shot up.
Seeker gave a little jump, caught of guard by her husband’s shout interrupting her. Alice looked startled as well, her ears attentive and eyes widened.
“Bucky!” was his wife’s indignant cry.
Bucky turned to her, head tilted. A clear of the throat was necessary to recompose himself. “Ah, my apologies, gentlemares. It’s fixed, Mr. Crane.”
Took him long enough. His back was hurting like hell. “Alright, thank you Bucky… wait, where’s the nurse?”
Crane was looking the contraption all over. Some of the previously warped metal had been melted back into a clean surface, the crystals now warm to the touch. As smooth and slim as the day they installed it, with just a little bit of an extra thrum of energy he had never felt before. Maybe Bucky gave it a boost?
Though no matter how much he fiddled around with the settings, his tiny companion was nowhere to be seen. The screen looked… empty without her. Like a clock missing one of its hands.
“Nurse? I’m afraid you only have doctors here, Mr. Crane.” Bucky gestured to the room. “Even if I am not of medicinal background myself...”
Crane shook his head, still fussing with the screen. “No, no. The little avatar on the screen. She’s been there ever since… well, ever.”
“On the screen? A background daemon, you mean?” Bucky’s eyes took on a dangerous, excited glint.
Crane saw the lecture coming a mile away as Bucky’s chest swelled with air and pride.
The stallion quickly enunciated each word with perfect diction, “Lady Sparkle’s primary architecture doesn’t allow for daemons on such devices. The unix environment of the prole network requires an init process, or a template if you feel daring. Your PDA doesn’t support unix-based appli-”
Crane held Bucky’s muzzle shut, the stallion still mumbling regardless.
If he could figure out what happened to the tiny pony nurse, listening to Bucky vomit two dozen different books on the matter would not help in the slightest.
“I... eh… got it, Bucky. Thanks for the fix.” Crane got up, his back popping painfully. “Guess I’ll leave you to it, then.”
“But I haven't even explained-!” A glare from Seeker cut his words short. “... nevermind.”
Dusting himself off, Crane left the ponies and their respective goodbyes behind. Alice chose to stay in their room a while longer, to handle some health concerns with Seeker. Questions about her pregnancy and the like. He didn’t mind.
Next to the now closed door, in the shadows cast by the sun’s rays coming through the panes of glass, Crane leaned his head back on the wall and rubbed his eyes.
A trainee.
A civilian trainee, no less. One that most certainly didn’t fully know how guns worked or how to fight properly - hadn’t even bothered throwing up a shield when she got held up. Judging by the size of her horn and the glow of her corona, she could’ve even put up a decent fight.
This was going to be… complicated. Most unicorns would’ve reacted, no matter his threat. Giving up on their magic was giving up their life to whoever got them with their pants down. This unicorn clearly didn’t have experience with danger, yet here she was, volunteering for Earth.
He didn’t know if he should applaud the effort, or look away to spare himself the pitiful sight.
At least she seemed knowledgeable enough on her area. Crane never worked with a medic before, but he figured it’d be better than suturing his wounds with fishing line. His leg was still aching from that mess he made.
Besides, this wouldn’t take more than two months. After that, she’d either be hopping around places like Granite, or staying in Equestria like Cure. Only some human Fixers really bothered being assigned to a PER cell.
Static blew up in his ears, his tympanus ringing like a bell.
“-rane? Is that you? You’ve pinged in the grid… A-Are you back online? Oh, please be back online!”
Crane winced, massaging his right ear. “Jesus, Vigil. Yeah, I’m here. My hearing on the other hand...”
“Oh, thank the Illustrious Queen. Where did you go? One moment you were there, the next you... weren’t! The PDA’s signal can’t just disappear like that!”
“I...” Crane didn’t continue.
Where did he go?
His eyes roamed the lodge. Coffee was still sitting on the couch, giving an empty stare to the fire, while Bart had gone out for his shift on the patrol.
He saw Skewer near the foot of stairs, gazing out the window in a searching pattern, her face a comical caricature of a hardy soldier looking for the enemy, hidden in the bushes.
It was pretty quiet now, with most members of their debased group of desperate derelictors either on their own rooms or planning the end of the world. At least that was probably what UNAC was printing about them.
Or maybe ‘humanity’s only hope’ was just raiding another PER safehouse, slaughtering most of the people inside and torching the rest, not once looking back or stopping to think about what they did. No, they were drinking heavy liquor and patting each other’s back for a job well done.
The Human Liberation Front, the Ponies for Human Life, the UNAC...
‘Damn good aim, Echo 0-1. That bitch’s head is a goner for sure - hell, she’s still twitching! Echo Leader must be proud.’
The... goddamned... UNAC.
“C-crane?”
Crane snapped his eyes open and looked down. His knuckles were losing their warm, red color and his fists were tightening ever more. His injured one more so than the other.
Where did he go, indeed.
He slowly opened them, finger joints creaking and snapping in protest. “It’s... complicated. I went off grid, investigated those PER disappearances, found… nobody, then my PDA got damaged.”
“Damaged? How did-? Are you… okay?”
He looked himself over. His leg, his arm. The sting on his brow was barely there anymore. “I will be. Stalwart cleared me just now. So, tell me you’ve got something.”
“Uh, y-yes, actually. Quick Sight sent this one straight to my office just this morning, high priority. Didn’t even pass by Golden Nova.”
“Sight gave you a debrief personally?”
“I know. It’s unlike him, e-especially keeping this from her. He said Pochard thought it’d be a good start for your, uh, ‘newly assigned professor career’.”
Really funny. Seems like everyone in the top brass was having a laugh at his expense. As much as Crane could call those two ‘top brass’. “Right. What are the details?”
“Okay, um… here. Convoy raid at the Confederation Bridge, one civilian truck with no markings - plate Y29 693. Expected resistance is minimal if not non-existent.”
His eyes narrowed. “Unmarked truck, no resistance? The hell does Sight want us to raid, a family running from the coast?”
“Would that be… a problem?”
Crane gave it some thought. “It would be unusual,” he finally said.
“It’s probably not a family. Sight suspects it’s moving important cargo to Montreal, under the wraps. Once secured, you are to confirm the contents and deliver the truck to the nearest PER cell... t-that’d be the one in Port Elgin, I believe.”
“Elijah Cross’ cell.” Crane nodded, even though there was nobody to see it.
Cross was… quirky, but decent at getting the job done - he was a natural at converting little settlements off the beaten path. “Alright, I can get to the Bridge in two hours max.”
“The truck should be arriving in four hours. I’ll be close to the radio… i-if you need me.”
All right. Seemed like a simple ordeal to be finished in a couple of hours, if a bit weird. Alice would probably need some saddlebags prepared for her, though. Crane doubted the ones she brought were filled with actually useful things.
He descended the stairs, turning to the Newfoal mare still watching out the window. “Hey, Skewer. Do you mind prepping some saddlebags for a day trip?”
Skewer’s ears perked up. Her characteristic lusterless grin growing to meet Crane’s neutral face.
The grin didn’t reach its usual proportions, though, as a little wince went through her muzzle.
“You alright?” Crane questioned, keeping the concern out of his voice.
She was massaging her temple, with one eye closed. Then she looked quizzically at her own hoof. “Ow… nn- yes? Yes, of course, mister... Crane.” She looked around in a disoriented haze. “Uh, what was I supposed to do again?”
The confusion didn’t last, and she perked up right quick. “Ah right, saddling. At your service!” she snapped a salute, beaming.
And off she went, sauntering to the kitchen with a singular goal in mind.
Crane fiddled with his ring, swiveling it around on his right ring finger. Who had Skewer been before conversion? All he knew was that she was Dice’s twin, both converted at the same time by the same vial. Yet he couldn’t help but think...
He drew a shaky breath, his mind somewhat disarrayed.
Stalwart, with some probing from Seeker, took care to keep the Newfoals in the cell alive - it’s how they managed to survive so long with a life-expectancy measured in hours. Crane agreed with the idea on principle.
But after Europe, he stopped giving Newfoals the time of day, stopped the friendly banter that they barely ever kept up - maybe it was too human? He limited his interactions to be business-like: hello, thanks, do this, get that, hand me some potion...
That last one usually got them a bit too happy, eyes fluttering open and close as the sounds of bottles broke and wails of horror followed. And the unnatural progression to the screams of bliss.
Much like a horrid creature holding your trembling vocal chords, then surgically pulling each of them taut - one yank at a time - until it was satisfied with the sound.
Crane shook those thoughts away. He had to be ready for this raid. His first real outing after returning to the fold, and he’d be accompanied by a complete unknown that was easily startled and didn’t have horn discipline.
He was better off not wallowing in the past.