//------------------------------// // Chapter 13: A Divergence // Story: #277 // by Unwhole Hole //------------------------------// Celestia became conscious, but only barely. She slowly opened her eyes and, as they adjusted, she saw that the room was dark—but cast in a strange light. The pale glow of Luna’s moon. She lifted her head up, not quite sure where she was, before realizing that it was night. She was under a veritable mountain of blankets. A chilly breeze was drifting through the open window and, outside, the enormous full moon sat just above the horizon. Summoning a tiny bit of mental power, Celestia flicked on the tip of her horn. Across the room, she saw the hands of a nearly silent clock; it was just after two in the morning. “Sister?” said Luna, stirring from the base of the bed. Although she was ostensibly standing sentry and therefore refused to be below the blankets, somepony had placed a plush towel over her. Somepony who was silent enough to sneak up on two sleeping Princesses. Celestia had a distinct impression it was probably Trixie. “I’m fine,” said Celestia, sleepily. “You should go to your own bed.” “I won’t leave your side, sister. I need to protect your dreams.” “They're just...” Celestia yawned. “...simulated dreams.” “No,” said Luna, herself turning over. “Such is...untrue...” Celestia turned over beneath her mountain of blankets and curled up, careful not to squish her extensive wings. Then she closed her eyes and listened to the chilly breeze outside. In a matter of seconds, she had gone back to sleep. An explosion. The detonation was red and white, burning phosphorous inside the shell. Then, in its place, another, this one exploding with an electronic thud and whine—followed by short, interrupted, distorted screams. Celestia felt the EMP impact and felt as her plating withstood the blow. She charged froward into the fray as more explosions erupted around her. Her mind was filled with exquisite fear of a type that had no name, far deeper than any other living being might possibly know or be able to understand—but with it a pure, sickening resolution. That this wrong, and impossible, and that every ounce of fear she felt was filled with such unfathomable sadness that it had come to this—and yet every fiber of her being understood that it was absolutely necessary. Objects whizzed past her head. Then, suddenly, one struck her in the face. The force was so great she was knocked back. Through that eye, she saw a massive surge of light and then nothing, and she felt the projectile exploding out the back of her head. “Sister!” Celestia turned, facing another Celestia, her body, like hers, clad in heavy armor and hastily retrofitted weapons. “It’s fine!” cried Celestia back. “I still have one left! I can keep going!” The other Celestia smiled, and the world seemed to slow. That that particular memory of a smile was important. Because then a torrent of bullets tore through her. Metal and plastic were spewed from her body, and her face took on an expression of confusion until one hit her squarely in the chest, its tungsten tip penetrating her Kevlar and ceramic clothing. Then her expression simply went blank and her body fell limply to the ground. “SISTER!” Celestia turned, enraged, targeting an enormous biped made of steel, a vast robot holding an enormous rifle. Celestia’s HUD ignited and she felt the mechanical thud of a mechanism at her side engaging. Sparks flew off the robot’s armor and then as something struck a joint near its head there was a spurt of liquid and it fell. Celestia knew it was just a robot. It had to be just a robot. That was the only way she could continue. Except there was not only one. More suits of power-armor became visible as they broke from cover, charging her. “This is Sector Seven, I need fire support, they’re breaking the line!” Celestia fell on her side, sliding behind a pylon just as one of her wings was taken off, falling to the ground, its servos still firing as it twitched spasmodically. “We don’t have anything left!” cried the terrified voice on the other side. “We need more, we—Coco, get us more, MORE, we need—Celestia, I’m sorry, you have hold the line, we just don't have any more—” Celestia smiled, already standing and preparing to break from cover. “I know.” She stepped out, and the world was ignited with light. Then she was no more. “GO! GO!” Celestia looked up, not sure where she was—but she knew that she was not alone. Her sisters stood beside her. The last of their force. A pony came barreling through the fog and dust. A Twilight with cold, empty eyes, her body clad in heavy armor, an autocannon mounted to her back. Other ponies were with her, ones without armor who looked terrified—and Celestia’s heart broke for them when she saw them. How confused and afraid they were, how they were forced to face a sight no pony should have to bear. The only consolation being that surely, it would soon be over. Suddenly, a mare appeared, climbing gracefully over the rubble and ash. She was clad in gleaming power-armor and her long, pink-mane trailed behind her. Her blue eyes were clear, and kind, and filled with perfect resolution, even when facing the battle ahead of them all. Just under her horn, she wore a steel crown marked by a single red stone. What Celestia felt for her was the greatest of admiration. Although this pony was not a Celestia, she was a Princess among Princesses. The one who had opened their eyes, and the one who gave them their final purpose. The mare spoke. Her voice was solemn. “We have to finish this.” The armored Twilight turned to her, terrified. “We can’t! The missile strike is already inbound! I can’t—I can’t stop it! And if we change course—” “We’re not going to change the course. Because we can’t leave it like this. I have to counterattack. Hold them off until the others can escape." “But there’s no way you could get out in time!” “And if we allow them to counteract, they’ll flank us.” Celestia understood the defeated optimism of the statement. The enemy had already broken through where her sisters had failed to keep them contained. They were already flanked. It was everything they could do to keep the exit open. The artillery was depleted. All that remains were Lilly’s armaments, the ones that the technomacner had managed to steal. The heavy cobalt warheads that their enemies had themselves created. “Then we kill them!” cried the Twilight, desperately. “We kill them all! We stand up and fight!” “You and I could, but not them!” The white mare pointed at the retreating, unarmed ponies. “They nave no weapons, no tactical knowledge, they don’t even know where or who they are! NO! I have to cover them!” “I’m not going to let you do that!” Celestia turned to the violet unicorn. “Yes. You will.” The Twilight shivered, grasping at her face in confusion. “Lilly. I have to.” “No! You need to survive! That’s all that matters! I’ll do it, if it’s that important!” “Lilly...” The True Princess paused. “They...they killed him. Robert’s dead.” Celestia heard the Twilight her screaming in rage, but she turned away. It was a sadness that she herself could not understand. Something a Celestia could not understand. They, unlike the others, had not been intended to experience love. The True Princess removed her crown. A crown with a red gemstone. “Here,” she said. “Take it. You are their Princess now. Lead them. Protect them. I’m sorry.” The Twilight was on the verge of collapsing. “I’ll never forgive you for this.” The white mare smiled. “I know.” Then she turned to them. Her elite units. The last of the Celestias. More of their enemies came, and Celestia fell. She watched herself fall from a different set of eyes, horrified—and she saw that her leader was struck in the chest, barely managing to return fire as they charged the oncoming forces, holding them off long enough to allow the retreat. “I love you!” cried Twinkleshine. “Please! Go! Save our people!” Celestia awoke screaming, not knowing where she was or where her commander had gone. She tried to fire her weapons but could not get a response. All around her was crystal and color and things she did not understand. She did not know her name or who she was, other than the single, glaring word forced into her brain: CELESTIA. “Sister!” cried Luna, terrified. “Commander, commander I can’t track—I can’t track the—can’t compute—under heavy fire, the cobalt—there can’t be—I can’t be here!” “TRIXIE!” cried Virginia. “I’m compensating, but it’s faster than I am—hold on!” “Diverting power,” said Yelizaveta, who had appeared beside them. “We have to pull the module!” “I already did!” cried Virginia. “Celestia, it’s—” “Lilly! Where—where is Twinkleshine?! Where is she, I can't be alone, I CAN'T!” Virginia’s eyes went wide when she heard those names, and she seemed to become pale. “SISTER!” shouted Luna, suddenly, with enough force that Celestia almost felt herself knocked back. “Luna,” said Celestia, grasping her head. She was covered in cold sweat and wrapped up in a sheet, somewhere two floors above where hers was supposed to be in the castle. “I don’t—hold on—hold on—” She took several deep breaths, then collapsed on the floor, shaking. “Sister!” “Celestia!” The four of them ran to her side. “I...I don’t feel...good...” “You’re going to be okay,” said Virginia, hurriedly. “Trixie’s already sealing the broken connections, and I’m on it too.” “Luna…Luna, you promised...” “I know, sister, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t—I couldn’t stop it.” “What did you see?!” demanded Virginia. “What was in there!” “STOP.” Yelizaveta pushed Virginia back. She stood silently, and slowly the others fell silent as well. The only sound was Celestia’s heavy, labored breathing. And even that began to slow to a normal pace. Then, when she had mostly regained control of herself, Celestia spoke. “What...what was that?” Yelizaveta turned to her, slowly. “We attempted to modulate a portion of your memory.” “There was...war...and...and pain…and...” Celestia frowned, as the memories were already clearing from her mind. She could not remember anything from it. Only a Twilight named Lilly and a Twinkleshine who seemed so impossibly beautiful. “What did you just try to do to me?” she demanded at last. “We attempted to add a memory module. To attempt to re-train you about your former life. But it did not work.” “What did I see? What the heck was that? WHY?!” “We don’t know. It must have triggered something we did not expect.” “You said the name Twinkelshine,” said Virginia, hurriedly but carefully, so that Yelizaveta would not shush her again. “And Lilly.” “I...I don’t know why,” lied Celestia, shaking her head. “Twinkleshine is a little white mare that lives in Canterlot, she’s not particularly of relevance. And the Twilight...” Celestia’s mind worked quickly. “That name. It was something you mentioned before. That must have been where it came from.” Virginia appeared somewhat crestfallen—but only slightly. “What kind of memories...what kind of memories were you trying to put into me?” None of them answered. Except Trixie. “It was my idea,” she said. “It was a version of what they used on me. The module was a vector, though. It didn’t have anything in it.” “What did yours have?” Trixie’s smile grew. “Combat training.” Celestia stood up. “We did not give you combat training,” said Yelizaveta, defensively. She turned to Celestia. “It was a vector, meant to allow us to interact with your consciousness directly, so we could—” “Yelizaveta. I do not want to hear it. I don't think you realize how horrible what you just did truly was. What you just did to me without even ASKING for permission." Yelizaveta recoiled. “Princess, we’re sorry—” “You as well, Virginia. And you, Trixie, don’t lie. I know for a fact whatever you are doesn’t have volition or independent creativity. You just do what they tell you.” “Ow...Trixie’s...Trixie’s feelings. Why, Celestia?” Celestia felt bad, because she knew Trixie was not in fact joking—but she was angry and did not let her reluctance show through. “I know you are trying to help. But for my own sake, warn me before you try something like that. I don’t remember what I saw in there, but I never want to see it ever again. I never want to FEEL like that again. Do you understand?” Yelizaveta’s eyes met Celestia’s, and Celestia barely contained an inexplicable shudder. Then Yelizaveta turned slowly to Virginia, who likewise seemed to understand. “Yes. I understand.”