//------------------------------// // Chapter 29: Containment // Story: The Trinity of Moons: Mending Shards // by Cloud Ring //------------------------------// ∿∿∿ “Zero.” Solid Line raised her kinetic shield over the party, waiting for the sleeping darts or grenades. The memory of past-Solid did not provide any other clues; this branch of events was in the plan, but there it was not resolved by force. The pegasus added her strength to the weaving, even though her Moon was near the horizon, and Solid took advantage of this by adding protection from heat anomalies too. But neither one nor the other fell from above. Instead, in the merciless blue light, a translucent egg-shaped capsule descended from the aviette and landed on the hill. A serpentine crack passed along the whitish surface of the capsule, the uneven parts parted to the sides—  "It's alive!", Gentle breathed out in awe— —and a pony in heavy armor in a helmet with a transparent faceplate rose from it. However, ‘armor’ may have been too soft a word — it resembled the safesuits for the first expeditions into near space, which were occasionally sent by the Black Moon. The ‘pilot’ under the helmet was a greenish unicorn mare with a two-tone gray-white mane, almost as tall as Cursory. Solid Line tried to evaluate her physique and, therefore, her mobility, but failed; however, armor of this class was usually equipped with servos, so personal power mattered little. Also, this is a distant future, Solid Line reminded herself. The pony’s mark was hidden by the body of the armor, but there was, apparently, a copy in the corresponding places; a recording of the sound spectrum, black on green. This is what the sound of thunder might look like, Solid thought; sharp and frequent high peaks, slowly converging into silence after three weaker rumblings. Pink jumped to three of her own heights, Signal followed suit from Cursory’s back, in an intercepting course. In the direction of the alien — the inspector, Solid temporarily assigned such a qualifier to her, recalling the voice from the aviette — Pink threw several knives, or fragments of glass, as her background processes suggested with a mere 37% certainty.  One of them silently went into the ground, deflected by Signal’s paw strike, the other two found a target, but did not pierce either the armor at the shoulder or the visor of the helmet; they stuck in the armor, and fell out when the inspector shook them off with a sharp shoulder thrust and took the first step towards the Trinity’s special team. Pink screamed in a high, ear-cutting tone. And she kept screaming, louder and louder. She went on even as Solid's internal sensors sealed off to prevent hearing damage; a cry of pain and joy was filling the world, and the hill was seen as through the ocean’s waves or heavy rain; for a few beats Solid felt that the swaying world is about to burst and let in unspoken abominations from beyond. But the inspector was approaching them. Slowly, heavily making one step after another, a silhouette of unnatural clarity among the wavy world; one out of four steps seemed a little slower than the others; but only seemed. Solid Line tried to charge up a jaunt, but found a ringing noise in the place of this song, and all the other songs. The cornsilk magic field did not converge into patterns, and belatedly she realized that there were no shields above her for a long time. Pink fell silent and froze, blinking — but did not take a step back. The Inspector walked the distance to her — all nine and seven steps from the shattered capsule — and stood in front of her, unacceptably close, less than one step away. The silence continued. Gentle Touch squeaked, “Hello! We're really not what we seem! Do not get angry!” The inspector tilted her head slowly, then nodded. There were no words; neither from her, nor from the aviette, nor in Solid's ringing head. Cursory tried to take off, and instead jumped awkwardly in place. “Tell me,” said a voice distorted by the speaker; Solid noted that it comes from the side of the armor, not from the head. “What to tell?” Gentle asked, surprised. “Everything. Except for the Moons’ mission, I know that. In general, I agree with it. Moreover, you can expect my help; I live not to contradict the direct will of the Moons. Please don't be afraid too much,” the inspector said. Pink cut in and shouted at the pilot, “How are you still alive?! You should have died from the first knife!” Signal snorted briefly, “As if!” — Solid understood her. But the understanding went through a glass, darkly. The intention was logged under ‘urgent investigation required’; and Solid Line assumed that Cursory Streak’s sharp exhale meant that the pegasus did not expect the line too. The green unicorn appeared unconcerned though, “Good question, an object of the Red. If I were the creation of the Trinity of Moons, your mistress, and you alongside, would have the right to take revenge on me and harm me,” the inspector tapped her hoof on the fluffy fur on Pink's chest, “I am Faraway Storm. Grade F outsourced affector. We are operating under the ‘Mirror, Torn’ scheme, and to your chagrin, I am not your enemy nor your abuser, in any of the metamagic perspectives.” Her helmet cracked around the visor and, divided, slided back with soft hissing — an utterly still, unnatural cone of bright golden aura formed around the horn — and Storm looked them over with a cold gaze of deep violet eyes. “I would rather not breathe your air for too long, but an open face is a sign of trust. And I am not afraid of you, the creation of Red, nor of your minions and puppets. Tell me. It's really not too hard for me to hold you still.” Cursory Streak pushed Solid Line by the side. Solid turned around and read the inaudible ‘She's lying!’ on the pegasus lips’ quite clearly. Solid took this into account, and began to think. With no magic, no flight, no miracles and no plans, what else was there left for them?  "Then... shall we talk?" Gentle asked. "Could you... take a step back? You are too close" “Of course not,” Storm replied. “You will run away. Now everything suits me. And I want to hear the details. All the details. From this beat,” there was a dry click, “our conversation is being recorded. You are being processed at the level of a regional resolution center.” Pink turned her head to Solid, and her voice broke through the ringing noise; there were not even words, just a general plea for help. Something shifted and clicked in Solid Line's head, and for a third of the beat she saw the world full of edges and fractures, as past-Solid once did, and in that moment she saw Pink from inside, with all her bloodlust and pain inescapable; with a pony that once had been Pink too. One who loved fun and games and parties and meant no harm to anypony ever. One who deserved to be safe and taken care of no matter what. ”Poor thing,” Cursory Streak exhaled, and with these quiet words two shadows of the past joined the team — one of cerulean blue, one of soft pearly shine, with their own share of battles won. They were beyond ponies of the present time, as shadows always are; clearly perceived by Solid Line but apparently unseen by the inspector. Still, she raised her head, looking around in the general direction of the shadows, eyes unfocused on the team, “Stop it!” she said, “Whatever is it you're doing, cease it!” “How dare you!” the white shadow mare mouthed back, and Cursory Streak yelled in sync, with a look that was condescending, disapproving, demeaning. Cursory went on, following the shadow's cue to a precise duet, “We are on a task of the royalty, and don’t you step on the tails of the Kingdom’s valiant knights, you ruffian! Take your belongings and move away before I make a formal complaint to Lady Twilight!” The inspector tilted her head — a blurred blue line of the second shadow darted to her and through her, immaterial — and took a step back, then another, confused for a beat. As if pushed away, Solid Line thought. The numbing rumble in Solid Line’s head became less intrusive, only for a fraction of a beat. That was enough. The songs were there. They were always there. Solid Line reached out to Pink’s mind — (Pink+Gentle+Solid)’s mind, she corrected herself, as some things you just can’t explain, and need to do it yourself — — the white ghost provided her with a bit of magic from outside, pure, and cold, and snowy with a tint of blue, as it happens in deep wild lands where there is no pony for many stages around, nothing except frost; enough to make a connection with Black Moon’s Void, and fuel Solid Line’s spell — — so Pink’s side of the brackets took a step back, stepped on the fracture of the world, widened by her cry before, seen only by past-Solid’s eyes and open now by present-Solid and the white ghost beside her Storm darted forward and thrust her hoof into Pink’s chest; Solid’s side canceled this movement and, on a Pink side of herself, appeared two throws away from the team in the direction of Metropolis Solid’s side found herself in a ponykinetic grip of shining gold  and she ran away from the team, alone against all the world, farther from her friends and angry purple eyes were too close up, measuring how to dismember her, and the brain behind the eyes decided whether it makes sense to do it now Solid Line shook her head, and managed to put Pink and Gentle away from the brackets of her own ‘I’. Faraway Storm made a decision; Solid was lowered to the ground, carefully placed on all four legs. Signal meowed, and the meaning was still clear: "Well, take that!" “Well then, you are not puppets. And not doubles,“ Storm whispered, staring at them, and the helmet assembled on her head again with a hiss, “Then we will follow the object. Let's go, not fly, Cursory Streak, I cannot allow your flight yet. On the way, you will tell me what it was. Should you choose to be silent,“ she smiled and wrinkles appeared around her eyes, ”I have more points in our argument to make you reconsider. But I am sure you won't like it if I will be forced to demonstrate them.” “Wait, Faraway Storm... freedom of choice?” Cursory Streak's voice was quiet and she stuttered. She laughed, “You weren’t paying attention much? I am not a creation of the Trinity of Moons. But I am not your enemy either. Moons’ wishes are my recommendations, not laws. You hoped that you would bring the avatar of the Red into the world, and the world will not find anything to reply? You should know better than anypony else that there is a procedure for every disaster.” Cursory Streak weakly nodded and asked, “So you are not mad at us?” Faraway Storm looked at Solid, apparently ignoring the question, “If it bothers you, formally I answer to Black Moon, as She is of paths, transitions and connections. And this operation is part of your entire expedition, on a larger scale. But were you allowed to bring in the Red? As far as I know, no, you were not.” Cursory Streak replied, with much more confidence than before, “Well, no explicit allowance, but we have a rule to draw in help if we needed it. And Pink promised help.” Faraway Storm took a long pause, looking straight at the pegasus’s eyes; Cursory looked back with her signature determination, and did not turn away even after a few beats. The inspector lowered her gaze first, and, after a silence thet nopony dared to interfere with, started anew, in a calm, convincing and somewhat softer tone, “Well then. That means, once we solve the problem of the avatar that you for some foolish reason have summoned, I will leave your path to you. Promise. And I need to hear out these reasons from you.” Solid Line swallowed and nodded.