Vinyl headed out from Sugarcube Corner, feeling slightly despondent. It wasn’t that she was unused to her wife going away for a weekend or so for a gig, but she still felt lonely being at home all by herself. She would have to have a friend over for dinner. Trixie would probably be free, Vinyl thought. She’d swing by the castle this afternoon and see.
As she trotted up the road to her house, Vinyl mulled over other plans for the weekend. Her old buddy Neon Lights had written her about doing another collab album a couple of weeks back. She could start mixing tracks for that. She could make some nice leek soup, too. Tavi hated leeks, so Vinyl saved them as a special treat for when she was out of town.
All those thoughts went right out of Vinyl’s head when she came upon her house and found the door hanging wide open. She was absolutely certain that she had shut it tight when she left -- she’d almost dropped Tavi’s suitcase in the process, so it left a definite imprint on her memory.
But now, the door was ajar. Were there burglars in the house? Burglars in Ponyville seemed like a ridiculous concept. Maybe it was just a friend stopping by, though Vinyl wasn’t expecting anyone today. She swallowed and stepped into the main hall.
There were no lights on that she could see -- not in the kitchen, not in the parlor, not shining under the bathroom door. She crept around the house. Fear prickled the back of her neck, fear like nopony should ever have to feel in their own home. No light from any room at all. Until she came to Tavi’s room.
Vinyl and Octavia had separate rooms. Vinyl liked a nice firm mattress, while Octavia preferred one so soft you could almost drown in the fluff; besides which, Octavia had a habit of sprawling out in her sleep and taking over the entire bed. After the third time Vinyl had woken up on the floor at two in the morning, both mares agreed that it was wisest to cuddle together, but sleep apart. Vinyl was absolutely certain that she had turned off the light in there before she and Octavia had left that morning. Someone had come into their house and was rooting around in Octavia’s things.
Vinyl set her jaw, anger slowly replacing fear. She levitated a nearby chair in her magic, brandishing it like a club, and stepped into the room. “Hey! Can I fucking help you?” she demanded, glancing around for the intruder.
A blue face popped out of the closet. “Oh, would you? I’d appreciate it,” Romana said.
Vinyl massaged her temples. She and Romana had relocated to the living room. “Okay,” she said. “Explain it to me again. Slowly.”
Romana let out a long breath through her nostrils. “Half an hour ago,” she said. “I felt something pulling on my time sense. That is, I should say, an innate Time Lord trait which can sense the immediate Web of Time.”
“Okay,” said Vinyl.
“I couldn’t tell much about what I sensed, but I’m certain that your wife is in the middle of it. She might be in terrible danger.”
Vinyl pursed her lips. “What kind of danger?”
Romana waved a hoof vaguely. “Time-related stuff. Difficult to tell, really. It felt like… a pulling. Like some creature or force is manipulating her timeline down a certain path? That really doesn’t do justice to the sensation, but as you don’t really have the necessary sensory organs to detect fluctuations in the Web of Time, I’m afraid that’s the closest I can do.”
“Okay,” said Vinyl. “Let’s say for a moment that I believe you.”
“I’m not fond of what that suggests about your faith in me,” Romana noted. “But very well.”
“Why didn’t you notice this earlier? You’ve lived in Ponyville for years now.”
“I don’t know,” Romana replied. “Something must have happened suddenly to cause this. Where’s Octavia now? I’d like to speak with her about this, if I might.”
“She’s headed to a gig,” Vinyl said. “With her bandmates.”
Romana glanced at her sharply. “Bandmates?”
“...Yes?”
“Four of them? Very close with Octavia?”
“...Yes.” Vinyl said, her heart sinking.
Romana set her jaw. “They’re in danger too, then. And did they, by some strange chance, happen to meet, let's say... a little over half an hour ago now?”
Vinyl nodded silently.
“Right.” Romana rose from the couch. “Right. You’d better come with me, Vinyl. I need to know everything about those four ponies and where they’re headed.”
Minor Key sat in the compartment, hooves folded tightly in his lap, a rictus grin spread over his face. He was what might be charitably referred to as being unused to the company of other ponies. This train trip represented the first time he’d left his home in a fortnight, and the first time he’d left his adopted hometown of Hayburg in even longer. He was not fond of spending time among others if he could help it. Every social interaction he had felt wrong in the extreme. Being here, in this cramped compartment with four of the loudest ponies he’d met in a long time, grated on every nerve in his body.
But he had been ordered here. He didn’t refuse orders. He had long since learned the consequences.
“So,” said the brown one -- Frederick? “What brings you out to Hayburg, Mines?”
“I live there,” said Minor shortly.
“Really?” said Octavia. “That’s good, you can give us the skinny on what it’s like up there. None of us have been before. What’s the music scene like?”
Minor considered this for a long moment. “It is… a peaceful town,” he said neutrally. “I would not call it a hub of the musical scene, but there is a decently sized concert hall in the center of town.”
“The Grotto?” Harpo checked.
“Indeed.”
“Nice place?”
“Would you refer to a nice place as The Grotto?” Minor asked. He was pleased to see that his fellow travelers looked rather disconsolate at that.
“How’s the night life?” Beauty tried.
“There are… taverns.”
The band exchanged more disappointed glances. “Ah, well,” Octavia said, after a moment. “If we can’t find trouble…”
“We’ll just have to make it,” Harpo agreed with a smirk, reaching across the carriage to hoofbump his friend. “Could do with a distraction, anyhow.”
“Cheers to that,” Beauty said with a nod.
Minor struggled to think of something else to say. He was gradually realizing that he hadn’t really had a conversation this long with anybody but Her in at least a year. “What…” he said slowly. “What kind of music do you… perform, then?”
“Call it fusion, if you like,” Beauty said. “We’re sort of a small symphony orchestra, if orchestras could ever be arsed to write their own tunes.”
For the first time, Minor felt a faint spark of interest. “You are composers, then. I, too, write all of my own songs.”
“Really?” Harpo leaned forward, resting his hooves on the cart of pastries. “I’d love to hear it sometime.”
Minor let out a short, harsh chuckle. “Perhaps you shall,” he said. “Indeed, perhaps you shall. Alas, my violin is not with me today. And you?”
Octavia shook her head. “All our instruments are either in the baggage car or sent ahead to the venue,” she said. “They’d not fit into this little compartment, anyhow.”
“We could do vocals,” Fred said.
“That’d leave Beauty out,” Octavia countered.
“That’s alright, I’ll keep time,” Beauty said, pulling the pastry cart a little closer to her, arranging empty pie tins on the top.
Harpo shrugged. “Right, then. One, two, one two three FOUR --”
“See now boy, I think you really got the moves
(Ooo-ooo) Turn me pink from my head to my hooves, yeah
Why can’t you see the way I long for you, boy?
When you can’t see me, it makes me blue.
(That’s what you doooo~)Oo~oh every time I see you walkin’ down the street,
Yeah, and any (any) time that you and I meet, boy -
The colors they get brighter when I look in your eye,
And a rainbow arcs across the sky.‘Cause (Oooooo) my knees get shaky and my face goes green,
And my heart starts to flutter if you know what I mean,
When I see you with another, boy, I just see red,
Because I wanna see dawn’s orange light with you in my bed!
(That’s what I said~)Oo~oh every time I see you walkin’ down the street,
Yeah, and any (any) time that you and I meet, boy -
The colors they get brighter when you pass me by,
And a rainbow arcs across the sky.So please, please say you’re gonna be my fellow,
(Ooo-ooo) Light up my life like the sun so yellow
Drape me in purple like your one true queen, boy,
And let me see their eyes all envy green
(When we are seen~)Oo~oh every time I see you walkin’ down the street,
Yeah, and any (any) time that you and I meet, boy -
The colors they get brighter with you at my side,
And a rainbow arcs across the sky.”
As the last chords faded, all four of the ponies looked at Minor, grinning expectantly. He blinked several times, trying to focus despite the hammering of his heart echoing in his head.
“Magnificent,” he finally managed to say. “I’ve never heard… yes, it was powerful indeed.” He rose on shaky hooves. “I do beg your pardon, I must powder my nose.”
He stumbled out of the compartment, shutting the door behind him. He made it a few steps before he fell to the floor, shaking. He faintly heard one of the stallions say, “You reckon he actually liked it? Seemed he might’ve just been humoring us to me…”
Minor gave a quiet wheeze of laughter, something he hadn’t done in years. They thought he hadn’t liked it? The unobservant fools. Did they even realize the power that lay behind their notes?
He shook his head, then rose to his hooves again, walking slowly toward the bathroom. This required consideration.
The washroom was a large, ornate, and unisex room. It wasn’t very heavily populated at the moment, but a few ponies and a reindeer were all going about their business in peace. That wouldn’t do. Minor chose a stall and locked himself in. After a few moments of silence, he began to whistle deep and low in his throat, lower than any pony ought to be able to, hovering just below hearing range, a noise that was both piercing and utterly indaudible to any sapient creature that might concievably be listening. He kept up his whistling for several minutes, listening as a series of hasty hooves hurried out the door. When he was quite certain that he was the only creature left in the washroom, he unlocked the door and walked up to the mirror.
“Rita, lovely Rita,” he intoned. “Rita, lovely Rita. Rita, lovely Rita.”
There was a disorienting moment, where the lights faded to a dull green hue that gleamed and glistened unpleasantly on every fixture, where the world seemed no more solid or populated than a stage set. Minor could feel the rhythm of a heartbeat pounding in his head, but it was not his own heart, of that he was certain. He could see nopony. Not even in the mirror.
Then, the world snapped into focus. It still wasn’t the world he had left; it was a realm of shadows and weak reddish light. At least now, though, he was out of the liminal space he had come through. And now he was not alone. He could see her in the mirror, standing just behind and to the left of him, a pale purple mare garbed in an ornate and colorful dress, her face hidden by a bone mask with long, sharp tusks. He turned to face her. “Rita.”
It was impossible to see her expression behind the skull -- the shadows occluded her features unnaturally -- but it felt like she was smiling at him. “Key. You’ve found them, then.”
“I have. What am I to do with them now?”
“Keep a watch on them. A close one. I have arranged an opportunity for you to host them. I trust you will take advantage of it when the time comes.”
Minor Key recoiled. “Host them? As in, in my house?”
The shadows shifted, sharpened. The lights got no dimmer, but the darkness began to press in. “I trust you will take advantage of it when the time comes.”
Minor scowled. “As you say,” he agreed.
“Good.” The shadows receded, reluctantly, back to their corners. “Will that be all?”
He hesitated. Then, “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I believe so.”
“Then don’t let me detain you.”
The world flashed back through the liminal space for a moment, the barest moment of surface tension between the water and the air. Minor Key could breathe freely again, something he only ever realized when he had returned from that place. He took in a few long, shuddering breaths, then straightened up. He splashed a little cold water on his face, then made his way out of the washroom and back to the train carriage.
Vinyl trailed along behind Romana, still uncertain about what was happening. “This isn’t the way to the train station…”
“Trains?” Romana snorted. “No, we’re going to need something a little more robust than a train.” She pushed open a gate and trotted through into what Vinyl suddenly realized was Ditzy and the Doctor’s backyard.
Romana pulled a key out of her mane. “It’s a good thing the Crusaders are earthed today,” she noted. “The Vortex Manipulator might get us there, but the Ship should make investigation somewhat easier.”
“I -- you’re stealing the TARDIS? Won’t the Doctor be mad?”
“Probably, but it isn’t as though he has a leg to stand on as far as theft goes,” Romana said cheerfully, unlocking the door to the blue box. “I’ll leave him a note, you go on in.”
Vinyl stepped through cautiously, peering around. She had heard about the TARDIS before, though she’d never been inside, so the fact that it was bigger on the inside wasn’t exactly a shock. Nonetheless, she thought as she slowly made her way to the platform in the center of the room, it was odd to see it in person. The honey-brown walls stretched over her head, coming to a six-sided point high above her. Beneath that, a bronze and glass tube descended, finally coming to rest on the set of six trapezoidal panels that made up the central console. Vinyl paced around the central platform, which was tiled with red, gold, and violet hexagons, trying to take it all in.
“Right,” said Romana, stepping sprightly into the TARDIS and shutting the door behind her. “Where are Octavia and her band staying in Hayberg?”
“I think she called it the Day Tripper Inn,” Vinyl said. “Room sixty-four.”
Romana nodded, flipping a few switches, then pulling down a lever. “Right,” she said as the wheezing groan of the TARDIS engine echoed around the room. “This should get us a few rooms down from theirs, not long after they arrive. It’s just the four of them?”
“Yeah. Well, them and their conductor, Baton Tap…”
At the Hayberg train station, a skinny white mare with a short, dark-green mane and a cutie mark of a waving stick paced restlessly up and down, chewing ferociously on a piece of gum, cracking and popping it between her teeth. Suddenly, her ears pricked up and she looked around as she heard the train approaching. She stood back as it came into the station, watching as it disgorged its few passengers. She scrutinized the passing creatures, looking for familiar faces…
“Oi up, Tapper!”
Baton Tap almost leapt out of her skin as she spun around to face four familiar smirking faces. “How -- you -- why?” she sputtered.
“Us? Oh, we’re all right enough, thanks for askin’,” Harpo drawled, grinning at her crookedly.
Baton Tap merely sighed and rubbed her face. “I’m glad to see you’re all so happy,” she said bitterly. “I’ve been having a Tartarus of a day. You might as well wipe those grins off now, I’ve got bad news.”
“What?” Beauty asked. “The gig’s not canceled, is it?”
“No, not quite that bad,” Baton conceded. “It’s the hotel. I swear I booked a whole suite of rooms. Instead, we’ve got a double. I went and looked at it, and it’s the size of a shoebox. We’re going to have a very cramped time of it, I’m afraid.”
“How did that happen?” Octavia asked, surprised. “You’re the competent one, Tappy.”
“I don’t know,” Baton said miserably, starting to pace again. “I’m certain it looked large enough for us all when I booked it. Perhaps there was a misprint?”
“Excuse me,” a voice said quietly, and Beauty turned in surprise. Minor Key was looking back at her. “I believe I may have a solution to your dilemma.”
“That must be it,” Baton said. “They must have given us the wrong room. There must be a suite in that hotel somewhere, and they’ve bungled it all up! I’ll talk to the manager, see if he can --”
She turned and paused, seeing that she was no longer being listened to. This was not an uncommon occurrence, admittedly. “Who’s that—” Baton Tap began.
“WHO’S THAT LITTLE OLD STALLION?” the quartet interrupted in unison, looking up at her.
The conductor stammered for a moment, then recovered herself. “Well? Who is he?”
“Well, I think he belongs to Beauty, she’s the one that introduced us,” Harpo said with a nod.
“He’s a musician, owns a house ‘round here,” Beauty explained. “Up on... what was it?"
"Anderschwelle Road," the old stallion supplied.
"Yeah, that. Anyhow, he's willing to put us up for the weekend.”
“Nonsense! We can all squeeze into that room. Certainly, it’ll be a little cozy, but—”
“Tappy, d’you really want to be cooped up in that room all weekend with us?” Octavia asked, not unkindly.
Baton paused for a long moment. “...How much did you say it would cost?”
“He didn’t,” Fred said.
Minor Key named a figure. The conductor’s jaw dropped. “That’s… per head or per night?” she asked, scarcely daring to believe her luck.
“Oh, no. That will be all for the weekend. One gets very lonely, you see, out by the cliffs. There is only me and my music and the sea—”
“Yes, lovely, what’s the address? I’ll get the luggage sent over as soon as possible. Actually, Fred, you send me a note telling me where to have your suitcases dropped off, don’t let me keep you! Byeee!”
Octavia frowned as the conductor hurried off down the platform. “Where are you going?” she called.
“That room was paid for in advance!” Baton called over her shoulder. “I’m going to make use of it!”
Minor pulled out a hoofkercheif and coughed into it delicately. “Right. If you will follow me?”