//------------------------------//
// Homecoming 
// Story: Gear in the Machine 
// by SFaccountant 
//------------------------------//

Gear in the Machine

Chapter 10
Homecoming





The train creaked loudly as it rolled into Canterlot station, its wheels straining and engine shuddering. Purple slime gummed up the axles and pistons driving the locomotive, and the plasma reactor powering it blasted constant puffs of steam into the air as it fed more energy to the drive shafts. The train crawled to a stop once it reached the embarking platform, and the main exhaust port let out a sound that closely resembled a weary gasp.

The ponies waiting on the platform stared. The fully militarized train had always been something of a clashing aesthetic with the rest of the city, what with its armor plating and weapon turrets, but this time the front of the train engine was splashed over with dark purple muck. The machine was mostly undamaged, which could only be attributed to superb engineering on the part of the Mechanicus, but it was obvious to everypony watching that it had crashed into something. Bits of carapace clung to small crevices and were glued to the wheel wells, and after a few seconds of resting in position the waiting equines detected the smell of ripe apples.

The passenger door slid open and a blond unicorn immediately stepped out with an irritated sigh.


“Thank my AUNT we’re finally here. I really thought for a moment that we might have to spend the night in that dreadful farmhouse when the engineers said they couldn’t get the reactor started again.” Prince Blueblood shuddered slightly in the late afternoon cold.

“Then you should be thanking Gears, not Celestia,” Dusk Blade replied while he followed the Prince out. The thestral carried a duffel bag on his back that rattled with every step. “If we didn’t have Techpriest support we would have been there all night!”

Gear Works exited last, limping to avoid putting pressure on his injured leg. “They probably would have managed to restart it without my help. The safety psalms are important, though.”

“Excuse me, but… what happened here?” asked an elderly mare, beckoning to Prince Blueblood. “This train was due hours ago!”

“Alien attack,” Prince Blueblood said dismissively, trotting down the platform stairs.

“More or less,” Dusk Blade added, following the unicorn.

“Less,” Gear Works clarified, sort of. Then the trio headed out of the station.


The beautiful, delicate spires of Canterlot were a pleasant change from the massive metal bulwarks of Ferrous Dominus, even to Gear Works. The sky was clear, with dozens of pegasi gliding over every street. Traffic was thin but constant, and not a single pony other than Gear Works himself was wearing a mask.

Despite the capital’s “traditional” Equestrian charm, the changes that had taken root in the city were stark. Large metal cylinders with glowing track lumens were attached to many homes to supply efficient power. Mixed among the traffic of pony-drawn carriages and carts were cargo autohaulers of various sizes, chugging along beside their owners on rugged tracks with a rumbling micro-motor attached to the chassis. A few citizens even had modern prosthetic augments, although that was far more rare.

Turning a corner, Prince Blueblood caught sight of a long banner and scowled. It was hanging against the wall of a metal building that had been constructed between two apartment towers, and it boasted the iron helm emblem of the Iron Warriors over the eight-pointed star of Chaos. Surprisingly, the exterior of the building otherwise lacked the grim aesthetic or security features he had come to expect of the 38th Company. There were no guards or sentry guns, and the exterior walls had colorful pict-captures of ponies in combat wargear posted on them. One of the largest posters featured a high-resolution image of Twilight Sparkle in power armor, leaping through gunfire while her horn casing was ablaze with magic.

“A recruitment office,” Blueblood spat.

“I think you’re right. Guess the flow of volunteers slowed down,” Dusk remarked, his eyes lingering on Twilight’s visage. When he finally looked over the other ponies, he immediately noticed a certain blue-haired stallion with a leathery wing to his forehead in salute. “Hey! It’s me!”

“Despicable,” Blueblood grumbled.

Gears turned to the unicorn. “What is? The use of sanitized parade-grounds imagery to attract recruits into the horrors of war?”

“No, that’s fine. I was referring to the Lieutenant specifically,” Blueblood explained, “but if I seem nonplussed at the sight of these establishments it’s simply because I am reminded that I received no such choice when recruited to serve the Iron Warriors. It’s galling that many ponies have happily given up that which was taken from me by force.”

“They should have a picture of you, too,” Dusk interjected, jabbing Gear Works with a hoof.

“What? Me? Why?”

“How about because you’re the most heavily augmented pony on this or any other planet?” Dusk said. “Or the only pony member of the Dark Mechanicus? Even most people in Ferrous Dominus don’t know the DarkMech accepts ponies!”

“It’s not something they like to advertise,” Gear Works admitted. “And I would be hesitant to recommend it to anypony even slightly less enthusiastic about physics than I am.”

“We should also not make it a habit to ship our best and brightest off to serve the humans,” Blueblood added.

“We also sent you, so it balances out,” Dusk quipped.

The Prince turned a displeased stare on the batpony. Dusk stuck out his tongue. The stallions held that stalemate for a few seconds before turning back to the street.

“Ah, and there’s the road to the palace and my estate,” Prince Blueblood said, something close to a smile appearing over his muzzle. “I don’t suppose you two need lodgings for the night.”

“Well-“ Dusk managed to utter a single word before the unicorn turned away and continued talking.

“Then this is where I bid you farewell, gentlestallions! If I am unlucky I will see you again come tomorrow, but DO try to keep out of trouble until the day after, when we are scheduled to leave.” The Prince trotted away without waiting for a response, his expression just barely recognizable as pleased.


“My, he must be VERY happy to be home,” Gears said while he and Dusk continued down the main avenue.

“Yeah, good for him,” Dusk grunted. “I’m a bit miffed that he got sent with us as an escort and he’s using it as a solo vacation, but… he DID effectively save Ponyville today, so I guess I can let it go.”

“Didn’t you fabricate your reasons for coming entirely?” Gears asked.

“Yes! But the difference is MY superiors don’t care!” Dusk said, his voice carrying a note of inexplicable pride.

“I thought the Lunar Guard was more of a stickler for discipline than that.”

“It’s a bit complicated, since our leadership takes a dim view of the Company’s order to begin with,” Dusk explained while they walked. “Within the Lunar Guard, misbehavior or even mere weakness is harshly punished. But when it comes to Chaos leadership, we’re kind of proud at how much we get away with. Nopony thinks the current rate of combat sorties is sustainable, so faking an injury report to get some time off is quietly smiled upon.”

“I see,”  Gear Works mumbled, “I’ve heard similar complaints from the Tau engineering sections. Due to the constant demand for battlesuit deployments they can’t keep up with maintenance and repair requests, and the pilots are experiencing serious fatigue.”

“And what about the Mechanicus?” Dusk asked. “You guys are also worked pretty hard, right? All the attacks on Ferrous Dominus caused a ton of damage, plus expanding protectorate control means there’s a lot of new territory that needs modern infrastructure. And there’s all the weapons and machines you still need to make to keep up with everyday trade needs!”

“Such tasks are a trifle. Chores barely worthy of our skills,” Gears replied. “It is a considerable shame that I’ve been removed from my labors for such a petty injury, in fact. But I decided it was necessary to contact my family directly.”

“That doesn’t sound terribly healthy,” Dusk admitted, “you’ve been gone for a long time! You should relax and re-energize!”

“Poor health can be repaired, but unproductive hours are lost forever,” Gears said. “Also if I’m away for too long I’m afraid they’ll change the security codices to the residential cells.”

“Ah. Yeah, that makes sense.”

A cargo walker stomped past the stallions carrying furniture, its six legs padding across the street with a surprisingly soft tread. A sensory sphere set in the frontal mount swiveled back and forth constantly, beaming a gentle ray of light over the path to check for obstacles. A pegasus mare sat atop the machine, paying only slight attention to the road while she applied her makeup.

“Well, there it is,” Gear Works said, something like a sigh escaping from his respiration mask. “My home. Or, rather, my parents’ home. Mine was never actually rebuilt after it was destroyed during the siege, you see.”

The building was a mid-sized tower, with different sections hived off into separate living spaces of varying size. Several balconies were attached to the building’s exterior, and a large metal tube covered with wires and warning notices was clamped onto one corner, looking quite out of place. The various electric lumens and magical nightglow crystals that illuminated Canterlot during the night were flickering on now, and above the city the moon was rising rapidly into the sky.

“… I suppose this is where I say goodbye,” Gears said after an extended pause, turning to Dusk Blade.

“Nah. I’m going with you,” the bat pony replied.

Gears tilted his head to one side, and some of the optical sensors narrowed on the far corner of his vision screen. “You’re… going to escort me to the front door? Or to my family’s unit?”

“Something like that, sure,” Dusk said, smiling.

Another awkward pause followed, and then Gear’s ears flipped down. “Wait, were you planning to stay with me here?”

“Yes.” Dusk’s expression didn’t change at all.

“Why?” the Dark Acolyte asked, distressed. “How am I supposed to explain bringing home an unexpected guest from our special forces?”

“Just make something up. Or, hay, you could even tell the truth. Whatever,” Dusk scoffed. “As for why, last time you spoke to a relative she tried to talk you into leaving Ferrous Dominus. Your parents are probably going to try the same thing. If I leave you alone they’ll probably browbeat you into giving up, so I need to be there to back you.”

Gear’s expression turned bemused, with all the optics circles on his vision screen narrowing into lines. “Is this because you don’t have anywhere else to stay?”

“That is also accurate,” Dusk confessed. “I don’t have an assigned bunk or barracks access right now. BUT it’s mostly the other thing. We can’t have our top recruits getting all mushy and sentimental and turning their tails on the 38th Company because their loved ones are upset.”

“Okay, no. This isn’t happening,” Gear Works said firmly, turning around. “Lieutenant, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Dusk quirked an eyebrow.

After a few seconds, Gears continued. “I’m serious, Lieutenant Blade!”

“No you’re not,” Dusk retorted.

“I’m not going to let you impose on my family like this!” Gears insisted.

“Yes you will,” Dusk retorted.

“You can’t simply intrude on my life as want because you think it’s in my best interest!” Gears sounded increasingly desperate, wagging his servo arm at the other stallion.

“I can, and it IS in your best interest,” Dusk retorted with a smile that showed off his fangs. He stretched a wing over to Gear Works and patted the cyborg on the head with it. “Gears, you remember how we handled the invasion this morning? You ROCKED it out there! Sometimes. Then there were moments where we needed to fight and kill things and didn’t have a machine handy to do it for us. Then I rocked it out there. Because we’re a TEAM!”

“We’re not a team, though!” the augmented stallion protested. “You just like to follow me around and drag me into trouble! The Tyranid purge wasn’t even a sanctioned operation!”

“LIFE isn’t a sanctioned operation, buddy,” Dusk said solemnly. “But just like the apple bugs, we’re gonna face it head-on anyway, expressly against your wishes. Now get a move on Gears, we’re already late.”

A sputtering noise came from the Dark Acolyte, but it rapidly petered out to nothing. Gear Works groaned and turned toward the front door, and then opened the way inside. “Just promise you won’t hurt anypony?”

“Of course I won’t! Swear on the moon and stars!” Dusk insisted.

Gear’s servo arm swiveled around and reached out for Dusk’s back. “Then I’ll take this for now.” The mechanical pincer grabbed the duffel bag the batpony was carrying between his wings and lifted it away. “You won’t need your weapons here, Lieutenant.”

“Okay, okay, that’s fine,” Dusk said, giving Gears a pat on the shoulder with his wing. “Whatever you need to feel at ease, buddy!”

Dusk started to draw his wing back and Gear Works suddenly snapped “It would GREATLY help me feel at ease if you put that knife back, Lieutenant!”

Dusk Blade froze, and then his wing moved to put the combat blade back in the side pocket. “All right, consider me impressed. I’ve dodged complete weapons searches with that trick!”

Gears stepped into the lobby. “These optical screens aren’t just for displaying emotional variance, Lieutenant. And if I may ask, just how many times have you smuggled weapons into some place they were not allowed?”

“You may not ask,” the thestral replied, following him.


They walked up some stairs to the second story, Gear Works in the lead. He slowed down as he approached a particular doorway, and the bag on his back shifted under his servo arm while he adjusted his gait between the extra weight and his injured leg. Dusk Blade quietly stopped behind him, his ears perked to listen. There was a conversation happening on the other side of the door, but he couldn’t overhear anything substantial before Gears raised a hoof and knocked.

“Mother? Father? I’m here!” the Dark Acolyte announced.

The voices on the other side stopped, and they were followed by galloping toward the door. Dusk held his breath. This was the moment that was going to set the tone for the rest of the trip.

The door swung inward, revealing a lime green mare with her mane in a bun and an apron tied to her body. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words died on her tongue. Her eyes widened, the pupils shrinking to pinpricks as she stared at the arc of glowing lights and the respirator mask built into Gear’s face.

Behind her stepped up a stallion of dark burgundy with a white patch over his muzzle and forehead. He had wide-rimmed glasses on, and his cutie mark was a pile of multicolored, faceted stones. He similarly stopped short when he saw Gears, and then he gasped in horror.

“Hello Mother. Hello Father,” Gears said, lazily swinging his servo arm back and forth over his head. “My apologies for arriving later than expected. Some kind of xeno infestation down in Ponyville.”

“ANOTHER one. Can you believe it?” Dusk interjected.

His parents’ expressions didn’t budge, so Gear Works swiveled his servo arm around toward Dusk Blade. “The thestral behind me is Lieutenant Dusk Blade, of the 38th Company’s Lunar Guard. He’s a ranking officer in the special forces division.”

“I’m Gear’s best friend!” Dusk said brightly, smiling widely to show off his fangs.

“That’s not true,” Gears retorted immediately. “I expect he’ll lie about other things while he’s here, so please regard him with suspicion at all times.” He pointed his servo arm to his mother and then his father. “Lieutenant, this is my mother, Dewdrop Melody, and my father, Carbide Gear.”

“Hi, Gear’s parents! Great to meet you!” Dusk said cheerfully, not obviously discouraged by Gear’s warning about him.

“Gear Works… what… what HAPPENED to you?” Dewdrop whispered.

“My augmentation has been substantially expanded and upgraded since I left Canterlot. I understand if it’s… jarring to see for the first time,” Gears said awkwardly. “However, I can assure you that the bionic augments are functioning perfectly and I am in good spirits and in good health!”

“Your leg is broken!” Carbide Gear shouted, scowling.

“That… Okay, yes, that’s true. BUT other than that-“

“You said you were fighting aliens?! What happened?! Did they hurt you?” Dewdrop asked, tears welling in her eyes.

“Er… well, I didn’t endure any SERIOUS harm… probably.”

“Probably?!” Carbide asked, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“There are sometimes lasting effects from psionic contagion. I don’t expect there was any meaningful damage, but I imagine that I’ll be dreaming about apples for some time,” Gear explained.

“Ugh. I can still taste them,” Dusk gagged.

Dewdrop finally lurched forward to seize her son in a hug. “Oh, Gears! I’m so sorry! We never should have let you leave!”

“Mother, please,” Gears grumbled.

“We have a lot to talk about, Son. Come inside,” Carbide said gruffly. “Lieutenant Blade, thank you for escorting our son home to us. We won’t keep you any longer.”

“No, no, I’m not leaving. I’m with him,” Dusk said, gesturing to the Dark Acolyte with a wing.

Carbide blinked. “I’m sorry? Did Gears invite you to stay with us?”

“Yes!” Dusk lied.

“No I didn’t,” Gears objected.

“We discussed it on the way here!”

“We did, and at no point in that argument did I invite you to stay,” Gears said, his ears pinning backward.

“It was implied by your resigned submission at the end,” Dusk insisted breezily.

“Lieutenant, Sir,” Carbide Gear said, his voice grim, “I’m afraid I cannot accommodate you this evening. I apologize for any inconvenience, but this matter is not open for further debate.”

Dusk furrowed his brow, staring into the steely gaze of the earth pony. Dewdrop Melody ushered Gear Works into the domicile behind them. Dusk said nothing for several seconds, and then sighed.

“It’s unfortunate you feel that way, Mister Gear. But if you insist, then I suppose I’ll see Gear Works again later.” Dusk Blade folded his wings and bowed his head politely.

“Thank you for understanding, Lieutenant,” Carbide Gear said, reaching for the doorknob. “Good night.”


Gear Works watched quietly out of his right-most sensor light as the door shut and his father locked it. “… Huh. I didn’t think it would really be that easy,” the cyborg mumbled.

His head was suddenly shifted to the side so that Dewdrop Melody could stare closely into the visor that had replaced his eyes and much of his forehead. The mare cringed, eyes tearing up and her ears flattening against her head.

“What have they done to you?” she asked, her lower lip quivering. “They ripped off your face and replaced it with… what even IS this?”

“That’s mostly accurate, for varying designations of ‘they,’” Gears admitted. “As for this augmetic suite, it’s a Hybrex-pattern optical veil and sensoria dock. Plus a respiratory manifold rated for class IV attenuated biospheres.”

A bar of light crossed over the length of his optical facing, pulsing with light. “No longer am I bearing salvaged bionics barely distinguishable from the garbage melted down in the tertiary foundries!” the cyborg announced proudly, lifting his head higher. “Now my augments are… well they’re generally just one or two tech grades above that, actually, but I do really like what they did with my tail.”

“Why did they put a knife on it?” Carbide asked darkly.

“It’s not a knife, it’s a dataspike,” Gears corrected. “Rather than cutting or piercing flesh, it cuts, pierces – and then typically extracts or injects – pure information!”

“It’s HIDEOUS,” Dewdrop replied.

“My appearance has a certain grim, industrial aesthetic to it, I admit,” Gear Works said, “but I came here to reassure you both that I’m doing well, and that there is no need whatsoever to leave my current duties.”

“I see,” Carbide Gear said gruffly, walking to the dining room table and having a seat. He gestured with a hoof to the chair across from him. “Well, then: sit down and reassure us, Son.”

Gear Works felt his confidence wane as he crossed the floor to the table. The servos and micro-motors in his bionic legs whirred noisily, and his servo arm swiveled around to shift the chair out from the table. He sat down, and Dewdrop quickly took the chair next to him.

“How did this happen? Where did your other leg and eye go, Gears?” Carbide Gear asked.

“They were damaged beyond repair,” Gears answered.

“HOW?” Carbide barked. “Were they caught in some kind of dangerous machinery? Were they sacrificed to some kind of insane, monstrous god?”

“No, don’t be absurd,” Gear Works scoffed. “The machinery is no great risk to navigate with adequate instruction, and the Machine God does not demand anything so crude and primitive as flesh sacrifice.” He hesitated before he continued. “Anyway, what happened I was that I was beaten to near-death by a Khorne fanatic.”

Dewdrop gasped, pressing her hooves to her cheeks. Carbide’s expression darkened further to a furious scowl.

“Those sadistic apes are just allowed to savage anypony they wish?!” the elder stallion asked angrily.

“It was actually a pegasus that attacked me, not a humanoid,” Gear Works corrected, “but otherwise that statement is correct.”

“That’s even worse!” Dewdrop said, nearly breaking into a sob.

“… Is it?” Gears asked. “I’m not sure what the exact moral ramifications are from being assaulted by another pony rather than a deranged hominid.”

“The ramifications are that Chaos is turning ponies into frenzied maniacs and turning MY SON into a lurching, mechanical monster!” Carbide Gear snapped.

“I can’t actually prove that the mare who keeps mauling me wasn’t a frenzied maniac before she submitted her remaining sanity to the Blood God,” Gear Works admitted, “but I understand your point.”

“Did she also break your leg?” Dewdrop asked.

“No, this was actually a wound sustained in combat,” Gears explained.

“You said the aliens in Ponyville didn’t inflict any serious damage,” Carbide countered.

“It was a different combat. I was deployed to an explorator task force in the wasteland. Oh! That reminds me, I want to show you-“

Carbide slammed a hoof down onto the table. “How many battles are they pushing you into?! My understanding was that you weren’t even a soldier! I thought you were supposed to stay in the city and repair things!”

Gear Works flinched. “Neither engagement was expected by the 38th Company. The wasteland town had been pacified, but I stumbled on a hidden foe by accident. And nobody knew about the Tyranid infestation until we arrived…”

“But somehow it fell to YOU both times to do battle? That’s ridiculous!” the elder stallion complained.

“I agree, actually. But there was hardly anything to be done about it… and it’s not like I was alone…” He shook his head. “But should I find myself threatened in a field of operations and have to fight, so be it! The missions I’ve undertaken are vital to maintaining Equestria’s Protectorate! And our intervention in Ponyville may have prevented a global catastrophe!”

“And just how did more aliens get to Ponyville anyway?” Carbide grunted. “Aren’t the Iron Warriors supposed to be protecting this place?”

“It’s a long and very strange story, but the short version is that the aliens actually grew out of the local apple farm due to flawed xeno-horticultural practices,” Gears released a tired sigh. “Luckily, the situation was contained swiftly and decisively. I do not anticipate further outbreaks.”





Sweet Apple Acres

“Thank ya kindly, gentlebots! You guys really saved me! It could have taken days to hunt down the other apple critters, and most of mah help is still injured!”

Braeburn laughed heartily, staring up into the unmoving glare of a green optics bar. The Dark Techpriest looming over the pony pressed the mechanical digits of his hands together, tip-to-tip, and a gentle hum came from the current running between them.

“Your weakness was anticipated. The scenario has been resolved within operational parameters.” A whip-like mechatendril snaked around one of the Techpriest’s arms as he spoke. “This has also allowed the surviving organisms to be subdued and recovered alive. This project has yielded materials in surplus to expected output.”

“That sounds… good? That’s good, right?” Braeburn chuckled nervously, adjusting his hat. “Well, if it makes you happy, and Ah don’t have no more monster bugs gnawing on mah cousins, all’s the better!”

Then the stallion brightened. “Say! The ponies who were here before couldn’t come by again so we could thank them fer all their help, but how would y’all like to stay fer supper?”

The emerald-colored visor glimmered. “I have evaluated my current task inventory, and a full 98.27% of logged objectives take preferential precedence over your proposed diversion. Your offer is declined.”

Then a servo arm swiveled about from behind the tech-cultist. It was carrying a large suitcase in its pincer claw, and it quickly but carefully lowered it onto the ground in front of Braeburn.

“Here are the replacement materials. This concludes all local objectives,” the Dark Techpriest droned.

“Replacement materials? Fer what?” Braeburn asked.

“Xeno-hortiplex spiral T-1138. The bio- forged organism cluster you have designated as ‘apple spines.’”

“Wait, what?! These’re more blue moon seeds?!” Braeburn recoiled from the case, looking alarmed.

“Affirmative. It is requested that you cultivate the replacement organisms so that the trial observations may progress.” The servo arm lowered the case to the ground on one side, and then the container cracked open. Cold mist poured from a grid of foam cells, each one containing a greasy-looking, fist-sized sphere.

“I dunno, partner. The last batch caused an awful ruckus,” the farmer fretted, scratching one leg with the other.

“These spiral cores have been further gene-crafted. They are substantially different from the previous organism index,” the Techpriest explained.

“Oh. Uh… does that mean they’re safer?” Braeburn asked, arching an eyebrow.

“… That is a rational assumption,” the cyborg replied after a brief pause.

“That’s great! Thanks!”





Canterlot

“Gear Works, please. You have to stop this,” Dewdrop said sadly. “These creature have taken so much from you already! What could be worth this much suffering?”

“Technology beyond our wildest imagining,” Gears replied without hesitation. “Look at me, Mother: I would have been dead long ago if not for the sorts of machines I manufacture and maintain now!” His voice rose as he continued, his passion building. “Neural-input codices! Flesh-graft adherosol! Vapor-respiratories! I could rebuild half a pony’s body in its entirety and I know the barest fraction of my order’s most common knowledge!”

“And something like THAT is supposed to be worth THIS?” Carbide demanded.

“It’s worth far more,” Gears said solemnly. “The technology and materials dispensed to me, the youngest and most lowly of the Dark Mechanicus, is worth any imaginable degree of suffering.”

“Is it worth DYING for?” his father asked.

“Absolutely,” Gears replied boldly.

Despite his fearless answer, Carbide Gear did not look persuaded. The elder stallion’s eyes narrowed, and Dewdrop shook her head sadly. Then Carbide stood up with his forelegs on the table and slammed a hoof down again.

“I’ve heard enough of this rubbish! I don’t know what they did to you, but I won’t stand for it any longer!” Carbide Gear barked.

“Wh-What?” Gear Works flinched back, his sensor optics widening.

“Maybe they dazzled you with some deadly machine, maybe you’ve gone insane from toxin exposure, or maybe they just put a control chip in your head! I don’t know why you’re obsessed with the humans’ wretched toys, but this farce ends now!” He thrust a hoof at his son. “You’re not going back to Ferrous Dominus! Your time in the cult is OVER!”

The Dark Acolyte jolted back in his seat, almost falling over. “B-But… But Father, you… I… that…”

“Please Gears, listen to your father,” Dewdrop Melody said, placing a hoof on his shoulder. “Maybe you really did like that place, but it’s not worth your life!”

“Shouldn’t I be the one to determine the exact value of my life?” Gear Works protested.

“Do you have any idea how crazy you sound?” Carbide Gear growled. “Giving up limbs, organs, sanity, and for what? Some shiny new guns?”

“Well, no, I don’t get any guns. I manufacture guns, but they’re not for me,” Gear Works clarified. “The actual value I receive from Mechanicus membership is somewhat abstract, because-“

“The value of living here, in Canterlot, pursuing a respectable trade, is NOT abstract,” Carbide interrupted. “You can make a fine living without having your limbs ripped off or ending up in a battlefield!”

“My first augments were granted to me after my limbs were ripped off here in Canterlot, after it turned into a battlefield,” Gears retorted flatly.

“Don’t give me that! It was all because of the blasted aliens! The aliens YOU work with now!” Carbide snapped.

Gears shrunk back, his ears flattening against his head. “It was the Tau who attacked Canterlot! The humans SAVED us! And saved me!” he protested. Then, after a few seconds, he added “Although I work with the Tau too, actually.”

This didn’t help improve Carbide’s mood. The older stallion slammed a hoof down on the dining room table yet again. “This discussion is over! We have your room prepared, and you’ll be living there until you can afford a place of your own here in the city!”

Gears shrunk back, his sensor lenses wide. “Father, please! You can’t do this to me! I’m a grown stallion!”

“You’re MY SON!” Carbide Gear barked. “Or at least half of you is! You’re staying here before I lose any more of you!”


Gear Works started gibbering incoherently, his voice turning to mush under his father’s stony glare. Dewdrop gently walked up and hugged him, trying to soothe the tech-cultist as best she could. Carbide Gear started to stand up, intending to carry Gear Works to his room by force, if need be.

“Yeah, I figured something like this was going to happen. Earth pony families are a riot.” Dusk Blade walked into the room from the kitchen, and Carbide and Dewdrop recoiled in surprise. The batpony had a large serving bowl on one wing, and a thick, brown-gray sludge gently swirled inside it. His other wing carried a dinner bowl and a wooden spoon, and he placed all of it on the dining table while the earth ponies watched in confusion.

“Wait, you’re-“ Carbide Gear began, only to be cut off.

“Dusk Blade, yeah. I don’t think we need to redo introductions.” Then he took the spoon in his jaws and started scooping the contents from one bowl to the other. “This is mushroom stew, right? I’m surprised to see it here! I thought Canterlot families always ate fancy imported veggies!”

“It’s an old family recipe. I make it with gravy and paprika,” Dewdrop Melody said awkwardly. “But didn’t you leave? I thought-“

“That there was no exterior access through your kitchen? Yeah, I get that a lot,” Dusk chuckled. “Anyway: Family! It’s just amazing to me how tight-knit you guys are. Batpony parents can hardly remember their childrens’ names and faces after they leave to live on their own. There are some that live together in clans once the foals grow up, but honestly they’re more like criminal gangs than families.”

He switched his grip on the spoon to his wing and then scooped up some stew. “My family was one of the gang ones, incidentally. I had to strike out on my own or else I’d still be robbing griffon peasants to earn my keep. But anyway.” He carried the spoonful to his mouth.

“Lieutenant, I regret having to ask you this again, especially in the same evening, but please get out of my home,” Carbide Gear said firmly.

“Wow! This is GREAT!” Dusk Blade flushed slightly, licking his lips. “I’ve never had it with gravy before! Makes all the difference!”

“Th-Thank you,” Dewdrop replied, blinking. “It must be cold, though. We were expecting Gear Works to arrive much earlier, so we already ate.”

“It’s fine. No need to reheat it on my account,” Dusk assured her with a toothy smile. “But onto the matter at hoof: You don’t seriously expect this to work, do you? Demanding a cult acolyte abandon the Dark Mechanicus for a dreary existence fixing clocks in your attic?”

“That’s none of your concern,” Carbide replied coldly.

“I’m making it my concern,” Dusk replied in a similar tone, swallowing another spoonful of stew. “On that note: I would advise you treat your son more kindly and enjoy his company while he’s here. He will be departing with me, as scheduled, two days from now.”

“Lieutenant…” Gears whispered, confused but slightly relieved. Dewdrop Melody looked downcast, hanging her head.

Carbide Gear’s expression didn’t change much at Dusk’s defiance, but he glanced between the other two stallions silently before he drew himself up and spoke again. “Is this about desertion? Do you intend to tell the humans where he is?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” Dusk scoffed, pausing to eat another spoonful of stew. “Prince Blueblood might, though. That miserable grouch probably would be asked to explain what happened and I doubt he’d make the slightest effort to protect anypony else.” Then the thestral shrugged. “But personally I don’t know Mechanicus doctrine on resignation and it doesn’t matter to me in the least.”

“Then why are you interfering with us?” Carbide demanded. “This is a family affair! If you’re not trying to enforce the Iron Warrior’s rules then finish the food you stole and leave us be!”

“Why am I interfering?! Why do you think, you crusty old mule?!” Dusk snarled suddenly, baring his fangs at the older stallion and slamming a hoof onto the table. “Your son – my best friend! – comes to visit his family because you were worried! To assure you that he’s making the most of his career! To tell you about his adventures and triumphs and struggles! To pour his heart out and defend his life’s decisions! And you’re trying to lock him up in the attic?!” Dusk took another bite of stew, his amber eyes almost glowing with anger.

“His career is slavery, his adventures are suicide missions, and his defense is… unpersuasive,” Carbide Gear said coldly. “If you were any kind of real friend you’d be helping convince him to stay where he’s safe and covering for his absence.”

“Well, good thing I’m not a real friend,” Dusk said breezily before gulping down another spoonful of dinner. “… Okay, so that retort sounded better in my head. It’s kind of accurate though, so I’m running with it.”

“This is ridiculous. You have nothing to do with this and you have no authority here,” Carbide said wearily, shaking his head. “I don’t have to listen to you. Get out!”

“I’m not leaving without Gear Works,” Dusk said stubbornly. “If you want to try to move me by force, go ahead. It won’t end well.”

“Please, Lieutenant! Think of his future!” Dewdrop begged. “Those horrible fanatics will work him to death!”

“Mare, have you SEEN your colt when he’s in a forge?” Dusk scoffed. “He’d die with a smile on his face.”

“I can’t really smile perceptibly anymore, though,” Gears interjected.

“Not helping, buddy,” Dusk replied. “My POINT is that Gears decides Gear’s fate. Gears has made his decision. And if some uppity thug is threatening that, whether it’s a vengeful Acolyte or his own blood relatives, then they have to go through ME first.”


Dusk Blade and Carbide Gear continued staring at each other angrily, with Dusk steadily scooping more mushroom stew into his mouth every few seconds. Then his ear twitched. The sound of gently creaking timbers alerted him to another pony descending the stairs.

“Gears, does anypony else live with your folks?” Dusk asked quickly, his eyes still locked on Carbide’s. “Like a grandparent or an aunt or something?”

“No, not that I’m aware of,” the cyborg pony answered. “In fact the only other family that lives in Canterlot is Swift Striker.”

“I see… that’s bad. Very bad,” Dusk replied as Gear’s sister stepped into the room.


“Well, well, well, look what the mag-hauler dragged in,” Swift Striker drawled while she trotted away from the stairs. Her mane and tail was a frayed mess, as if she’d just gotten out of bed. “Hi Gears. Sorry I missed you coming in. Spent the better part of the day running around trying to figure out what happened to your train and when I got back I needed a nap.”

“Hello, Striker,” Gear Works said, standing up from his chair. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye when you visited Ferrous Dominus several weeks ago. Why did you leave so suddenly?”

“Yes, why DID I leave so suddenly?” Swift Striker mused aloud. “We’ll go over that in a bit. For now I’m just really glad to see you didn’t lose any more extremities since the last time I saw you.” She grimaced at Gear’s injured leg. “Although it looks like you came close.”

“I realize that you all hold an irrational attachment to my so-called ‘natural’ body, but it is entirely likely and ultimately preferable that all my legs should eventually be replaced by bionic augments,” Gear Works said, sounding somewhat frustrated.

“Gears, please, don’t talk like that,” Dewdrop said, shuddering.

“And look who else came along to visit!” Swift Striker said, her voice taking on an obviously fake, cheerful quality. “Lieutenant Dusk Blade of the Lunar Guard! We don’t deserve the honor of hosting such a prestigious guest!”

Carbide Gear quirked a brow. Dusk was still glaring at him, but the thestral seemed obviously uncomfortable now. His ears were pinned back, his wings were held partially open, and he had stopped eating entirely.

“What? Nothing to say, Lieutenant? You were so happy to see me last time!” Swift taunted, facing the batpony’s back. “You’re not going to get all flirty again? Don’t tell me you mutated and grew a sense of shame since then!”

“Miss Striker, this isn’t about me and you and any alleged misdeeds and/or affairs between us,” Dusk said, still not turning to face the mare. “This is about Gear Works and his future among the Dark Mechanicus.” He pushed the bowl of cold stew away and then jabbed a hoof toward Carbide Gear. “What I said to you back then in the fortress-factory is still as true today! Gears found his fortune in Ferrous Dominus. He seized his destiny from those who did not believe in him and attained his current rank through sheer will, persistence, and talent! Unimaginable opportunities still await him, from the mass production of his own inventions to leaving this planet and traveling the stars!”

He suddenly swiveled about to lock eyes with Dewdrop Melody, who started in surprise. “All of this means nothing to you, I’m sure. How could it? To you the Cult Mechanicus is just another batch of lunatics who fight the Orks so you don’t have to. It would be absurd to expect you to privilege their weapons and knowledge over your precious son. I get it.” Dusk stood his forelegs on the table, lifting himself above all the other ponies. “But to him, that IS his life! It’s a triumph greater than any royal honor or noble favor or fulfilling that weird compulsion you guys have for doing what your cutie marks tell you to! To take that away from him would be crueler and more painful than any torment Chaos could inflict!”

Carbide Gear and Dewdrop Melody frowned deeply as Dusk Blade finished, feeling conflicted. They glanced at Gear Works, searching the Dark Acolyte’s optics cluster for the dramatic conviction Dusk spoke of. Swift Striker scowled, her mane bristling angrily. She was about to contribute some very unproductive commentary when Gear Works spoke up first.

“Wait, that’s what you talked to Striker about back in Ferrous Dominus? When you two left the Mechanicus dorms I was under the impression you were leaving to copulate,” he asked suspiciously.

Dewdrop blinked repeatedly. Carbide, who had already taken a very dim view of the batpony, scowled angrily. Swift Striker flushed, but her lips twitched into a smirk.

“Yeah, I was also under that impression,” the hoofball player said icily, “but rather than stealing my heart the sweet-talker here just stole my access card and then kicked me out of the city.”

“WHAT?!” Gear Works shouted in shock.

“Oh please, I did not,” Dusk scoffed, dropping back down to the floor. “She just got all huffy after I gave an impassioned speech defending your decision so she took off.”

“He locked me behind a security gate in the train station, told me never to return, and threatened that if I tried he’d lie to the guards to get me in trouble,” Swift Striker continued.

“LIEUTENANT BLADE!!” Gear Works shouted in a rage, his optics lights narrowing and tilting sharply.

Carbide and Dewdrop recoiled in surprise at seeing the normally mild-mannered stallion step past Swift and glare at the batpony. The servo arm loomed overhead, its pincer claw yawning open like it was preparing to snap closed on the thestral. His tail lashed back and forth, the spike on the end gleaming in the light. Dusk, for his part, didn’t look frightened or even very surprised. If anything, the Lunar soldier looked offended.

“What? I told you I didn’t do any of that! Do you really think I’d toy with a mare’s feelings like that just to get her out of the way?” Dusk asked.

“Of course you would!” Gears answered without hesitation. “You manipulate ponies all the time!”

“C’mon Gears, you seriously believe her over me?” Dusk asked.

“Of course I do!” he again replied immediately. “My sister never lies to me! You’d lie to anypony at the slightest convenience!”

Dusk frowned. “Okay look I’m trying to help you out of being foalnapped and detained by your own family but you have to work with me a little here.”

“This has nothing to do with that! You lied to her, threw her out of the city, and then you lied to me about what happened!” Gears shouted. “You exiled my family from my home and threatened them to keep it a secret! You absolute cad!”

“Gears, are you really friends with this creature?” Dewdrop asked while she gave Swift Striker a motherly nuzzle.

“Yes, and I’m as disappointed as anypony to admit it,” the cyborg groused.

Dusk pressed the tips of his hooves together. “Gears, buddy, listen: I have a plan to deal with this thing that’s happening. You know, the whole lock-you-in-your-room idea to get you to abandon your beloved career? But I really need you to meet me halfway here and stop getting sidetracked with dumb stuff like who I may or may not have lied to a long time ago.”

“It was LAST WEEK!” Swift shouted.

“You can stay on the topic if you want Miss Striker, I don’t think your opinion really matters here anyway,” Dusk said. “So back to-“

“Lieutenant, I do think you have SEVERELY overstayed your welcome,” Carbide Gear interrupted, “and in light of hearing what you did to my daughter I am going to offer you ONE last chance to leave before you are removed by force.”

“Oh. Really? We’re really doing this?” Dusk blinked at the older stallion, tilting his head to one side. “Are you ex-guard or do you have a bunch of soldiers on call? Because I was tearing the guts out of blade-limbed monstrosities just this afternoon, you know. I don’t think the ‘force’ part of your calculation here quite adds up in your favor.”

Dusk smirked and stepped away from the table, his wings lifted into a loose combat position. Carbide Gear remained at his seat, glaring down at the soldier. Gear Works heard the sound of wood sliding against wood behind him, and his ears perked.

“Lieutenant! Wait! You-“

“Yeah I know: your sister is lining up the chair to hurl at me. I have echolocation, she can’t surprise me,” Dusk said, still smiling without looking behind him. “You should be shouting desperate warnings at your relatives, not me. I’m not going to-“

The chair flew across the room like a cannon shot, and Dusk barely had time to twitch before it cracked against his shoulder and head. The furniture shattered into splinters from the impact, and the batpony was slammed hard into the wall. An agonized squeak came from Dusk before he slid down to the floor, a streak of blood coloring the wallpaper behind his head.

“L-Lieutenant!” Gears cried in shock, racing over to Dusk Blade.

“Swifty, dear, don’t you think you overdid it? You didn’t have to aim for the head,” Dewdrop chided.

“Is he dead?” the hoofball star asked, sounding only marginally interested in the answer. “If I killed him then yeah, I overdid it. Maybe.”

Gear Works leaned over the batpony, doing a brief tissue scan. “No, you didn’t. The shock knocked him out, and I’m reading several minor fractures and some internal bleeding, but it’s probably not fatal.”

“We still have more chairs,” Swift Striker said, smiling at her mother. Dewdrop frowned and shook her head in disapproval.

“Gears, go upstairs. I’ll dispose of this ruffian,” Carbide Gear ordered, walking up to the unconscious stallion.

“No,” Gears replied.

The elder stallion stopped short. “Pardon me?”

Gear’s servo arm lifted Dusk up by a leg, and he lowered himself onto the floor. “No, I will not be going upstairs, and no, you will not be disposing of anypony.” He pulled Dusk Blade onto his back, and then stood back up. A pained hiss came from his respirator as he was forced to put too much weight on his injured leg, but the Dark Acolyte endured and turned toward the front door.

“Gear Works, listen to your father,” Dewdrop Melody chided. “We’re very worried about you, and you shouldn’t be making friends with dishonest ponies like him. Honestly, things are so much worse for you than we imagined, and we want to help!”

Gears hesitated, and then Carbide Gear spoke up. “Gear Works, I’m not accustomed to making requests of you,” the elder stallion admitted, “but right now I want you to stop and listen to reason. You can’t trust these cyborg people. You can’t trust the soldiers that work for Chaos. You won’t be safe, you’ll be forced to do awful things to keep your position, and if the worst should happen to you they’ll discard you like a rusted shoe.”

Gear’s ears flipped down, but before he could speak Swift Striker began talking. “Gears, I already sat through Dusk’s stupid speech about how important the cult is to you. Twice! This crazy tech cult feels like something important and amazing that you’ll never get to be a part of unless you sacrifice the rest of your life and more and more of your body. It makes you feel special, but it’s weird and gross and - this part is really important - the other people and ponies around you are abusing and mutilating you! Whether you're willing to endure it or not, that's not okay!”

Then she took a deep breath, as if steeling herself. “And another thing… I think this whole thing is kind of our fault. We didn’t treat you very well after the accident. I avoided you and nodded along quietly when ponies made fun of you behind your back. Dad resented having to take you in after your house was wrecked, and didn’t try very hard to hide it. Mom barely spoke to you and acted like her son had died even though you were living in the same house, just because you lost a leg and an eye and… well, you know.”

Dewdrop and Carbide cringed unpleasantly, their ears flipping down and their eyes darting away from the cyborg in the middle of the room. They nodded in acknowledgement, however.

“I… suppose I thought that if I were harder on you, that it would drive you to rebuild faster,” Carbide said with a cough. “I thought that you might fall into despair with what you lost if you weren’t pushed. I didn’t think that you would turn to the humans instead. That was my error,” he finished grimly.

“I don’t have any excuse,” Dewdrop sighed. “I was shocked and repulsed by your bionics and that you had chosen them instead of magic healing. I didn’t want to accept it, so I neglected you. But when you left I was devastated all the same. I was shallow and selfish, and I’m sorry, Gears. Please, forgive me.”

“So there you have it: we were wrong about you,” Swift said, stepping up to Gear Works. “We really do miss you, and we really do want to help. Help you rebuild something like a normal life, rather than being abused by aliens and tormented by creeps like Dusk. Okay?”

Gear Works was silent, staring at his family through the array of sensors that had replaced his eyes. Swift Striker looked embarrassed but earnest, her face flushed like she couldn’t believe she had managed to give such a speech. Dewdrop Melody looked hopeful, her eyes pleading. Carbide Gear had fixed a stony frown on his face that looked like it would require mechanical hardware to alter.

One of the sensors in the corner of his face tracked down to view his own leg. A trickle of blood was crawling down it, staining the dirty chrome surface of the augmetic and seeping into the cracks. A weak cough came from the body on his back, and a bit more blood was splashed on the side of his cloak.

“Thank you, Striker,” Gears said, raising his augmetic hoof and patting Swift on the head. She blinked in surprise and some trepidation; such a gesture was uncommon ever since they had grown up, and she still didn't like the mechanical prosthetics. “Thank you Father, and you, Mother. You’re right. All of you. About me, about the Mechanicus, about the Iron Warriors, and certainly about the miserable individuals who would describe themselves as my friends. My future in the Dark Mechanicus is not a pleasant one, and I don’t know how long it will be, either.”

Gears withdrew his hoof. “But it IS my future. I forgive you. Goodbye.”

He turned and limped to the front door. There were a few stuttering words of protest, but he tuned them out entirely. His servo arm swiveled around to grasp the doorknob, and after stopping to brush his hooves against the welcome mat to remove some of the collected blood, he left his family’s home for good.





When Dusk Blade returned to consciousness it was like getting hit with a flying chair all over again.

The world was blurry, his entire body ached, and he felt like retching. A bizarre ringing seemed to echo in his head, ruining his local sonar. He shifted to try to roll upright, only for something to grab his wing and hold him down.

“Stop. Lie still. You shouldn’t be moving yet.”

Dusk’s first instinct was to lash out at being restrained, but at the sound of Gear’s voice he relaxed. “What… What happened?”

“A wooden projectile of some eight kilograms struck you at extreme velocity. You have a concussion and multiple fractures. And frankly, you got off lightly.”

“Lightly?!”

“Yes. I’ve seen Swift Striker practice. Her Aurora Driver kick demolishes steel-banded barrel targets with ease. It’s actually been banned in official hoofball games.”

Dusk flinched as he felt something rough tighten around his leg. Bandage wrappings, he realized after a moment. His vision was also starting to crystallize, and he realized he was outside on the streets.

“… Are… Are we outside? Why am I not in a hospital or something?” Dusk mumbled.

“Because I didn’t want either of us to be interrogated as to how this happened to you,” the Dark Acolyte replied. Dusk could see now that he was holding a rag against the top of a bottle clutched in his servo claw. “Incidentally, the event that led to new, suspiciously specific safety regulations in professional hoofball also left Striker with an indictment on her criminal record. She was acquitted. Barely.”

Gears pressed the wet cloth against Dusk’s head, and the thestral hissed in pain. “I think… I think it’s coming back to me. That… argument with your family, and… and your dad was going to throw me out… and then…” Dusk cringed. “Did I just… lose a fight to your little sister?”

“No, I would not characterize it that way,” Gear Works said with a slight sarcastic edge to his voice. “You did not attack her, and she hurled a heavy object at you from behind at a proximity you were unable to avoid and at a velocity you couldn’t possibly defend against. That was not a ‘fight’ in any meaningful sense.”

Dusk Blade slowly turned his head around to check their surroundings. He was laying on the sidewalk under a street lumen outside of a small shop. The shop was still obviously open late at night, which was somewhat unusual for establishments in this city. Overhead, blocking out much of the night sky, was a stone bridge of some sort with its underside encrusted with moss. Canterlot didn’t have anything that could be reasonably considered a “seedy” district, but the closest thing were the sections around and under the aqueducts that carried water to the city from the mountain’s peak. The gentle noise of rushing water from the large construct above them was just barely audible over the ringing in his skull.

“Okay, I think everything has been disinfected. Turn your head to the left and I’ll wrap this up,” Gears ordered.

Dusk did so, and then the servo claw swiveled around with the end of a long cloth bandage strip clutched in its pincer. Gears held the rest of the strip on the other side, feeding it from a roll that was spooled on a small input probe that extended from his bionic hoof.

“So. Are you… mad at me?” the thestral asked hesitantly.

“Extremely,” Gears replied sharply. “You lied to my sister and you also lied to me. You had someone I love cast out of Ferrous Dominus after toying with her emotions and may have endangered her life. I already think very little of you, Lieutenant, but this revelation has nonetheless reduced you further in my estimation.”

Dusk Blade didn’t reply right away while Gears secured the bandages around his skull. “… You’re not leaving the Dark Mechanicus though, are you?”

“Of course not,” the Dark Acolyte replied. “And I didn’t need you to drive my relatives away or threaten them to reach that conclusion, either!”

The batpony winced. “Okay, okay! I didn’t know! I thought you were really going to get bullied into giving up the cult! So I, y’know… did some friendship work.”

“That is NOT friendship work!” Gears snapped, suddenly tightening the bandages around Dusk’s head. The soldier flinched and hissed, and then Gears continued. “It’s not even that you don’t know any better! Both times you intervened and made impassioned, persuasive appeals for my career in the Mechanicus! That was appropriate and helpful! Why can you not contain your impulse to hurt others to get what you want?!”

“It’s just really worked for me a lot in the past, okay?” Dusk replied. “And frankly I expected it to be received MUCH better than it has been among the army of corrupt slavers and killers that saved us so they could plunder our world and magical power. Just saying.”

“What the blazes are you two doing out here?”

Dusk and Gears glanced behind them. Prince Blueblood was standing at the entrance to the shop. Dusk wasn’t in a laughing mood in his current condition, which was the only thing stopping him from breaking into howling laughter at the sight of the unicorn. Gear Works blinked his optics in surprise.

Prince Blueblood’s coat was in ruins; damp and rumpled, and with one sleeve torn. His hat had been impaled on his horn and the Chaos Star that decorated the brow had been smashed. The prince’s body was otherwise in disarray as well: his mane was frazzled, his eyes were bloodshot, and one cheek was decorated with smudged lipstick stains. The other cheek had a bruise shaped very conspicuously like a horseshoe.

“Partying a little too hard, huh?” Dusk Blade asked after a few seconds of awkward silence.

Blueblood grimaced. “That… I mean… Well, I suppose there are worse ways to describe it. You too?”

“I assure you Prince, what happened to us wasn’t fun for anypony,” Gears explained.

“I don’t know about that; I can only imagine the delight of the ruffian that managed to get the best of our intrepid soldier here.” Blueblood’s sneering was probably meant to sound amused, but he had obviously been drinking and there was a haze about his speech. The unicorn turned away from the door of the shop and walked over to his companions. “What happened? Did the roach-eater provoke a guard?”

“No. Somepony kicked a heavy object at me and it landed. It happens,” Dusk grumbled. “What happened to you? Looks like you got to second base and then struck out.”

“Shut up, you fanged mongrel!” Blueblood snapped, his mood instantly souring again.

Dusk Blade guffawed loudly at the reaction, and then whimpered. “Ugh… hurts to laugh.” He hissed through his teeth, and then slumped onto the ground. “Anyway, you’re not the only pony here to get violently discarded by a mare you were into, so don’t let it bother you.”

“I’ll have you know this is no mare’s hoofprint,” Blueblood huffed as he sat down on the other side of Gear Works, “it’s the husband’s!”

Dusk and Gears turned toward him, staring silently.

“… I meant… uh… it…” Blueblood winced and shook his head. “It’s a long and tedious story, and you can guess at the conclusion. Suffice to say I won’t be welcome back at that party.”

“Most unfortunate,” Gears said. “Were you here to purchase something before you returned to your estate?”

“… Yes and no,” the unicorn grumbled. “The party was AT my estate.”

Dusk laughed again, but it quickly trailed off into pained coughing. “Oof… well. Looks like we’re homeless for the night, gentleponies!”

“Don’t you have a barracks?” Blueblood asked.

“I’m not stationed here in Canterlot anymore, so no. Lunar guard usually bunk during the day anyhow; the beds will all be full of the other guards right now.” Dusk lifted a wing and pressed the tip against his bandaged head. He winced at the pain, and then continued. “I didn’t bring any money, either. I figured I could mooch off you two while we were here.”

“You’re an embarrassment,” Blueblood growled.

“I’m not the one who got beaten up and tossed out of his own mansion,” Dusk countered.

“Prince Blueblood doesn’t own the property himself. It’s registered to one Senator Highbit,” Gear Works explained. “A close relative, I imagine. And hopefully not the previously mentioned ‘husband.’”

“He wasn’t!” Blueblood yelped, looking slightly panicked. “Wait, how do you know all that?”

“I’m using the noosphere to peruse the local property registry codex for vacant homes,” Gear Works explained. He was staring straight forward, and the lights in his optics visor pulsed in a seemingly random pattern. “Once I’ve located a suitable property, we’ll at least have somewhere inside to sleep tonight.”

“Are you serious? We’re to break into an empty home like common burglars?” Blueblood asked, wrinkling his snout.

“Well, YOU don’t have to do that, Prince. I’m sure if you went back home and apologized profusely they’d let you back in,” Dusk suggested with a fanged smile.

“Lead the way, Techpriest,” Prince Blueblood said, standing up again without acknowledging what Dusk said.

“I’m a Dark Acolyte.”

“I still don’t care. Oh: and do try to find a hovel to break into that’s decently furnished. I detest sleeping on the floor.”

Gear Works stood up, and his servo arm tugged on Dusk’s wing to bring the thestral upright. “I have a location nearby. I must credit Miss Raven for actually installing an up-to-date noosphere registry and keeping to regular updates. I have little regard for most of the Royal order but Princess Celestia’s administrators are entirely worthy of their station.”

“You’re being escorted by a member of that order right now,” Blueblood reminded him.

“More specifically, I’m leading a member of that order into an abandoned home so that he doesn’t fall ill sleeping on the sidewalks,” Gears replied.

“… You’ve gotten cheekier since this afternoon,” Prince Blueblood mumbled while he and Dusk Blade followed the cyborg.

“My fault,” Dusk Blade volunteered, limping after the other stallions.

“… Care to elaborate?” Blueblood said after a pause.

“Nope.”

Gears approached a house and paused, cycling his vision modes to search for any heat signatures or significant power flow. “All right, I think this location will do. This street is very well-lit though, so-“

Dusk leapt into the air with a flap of his wings, and a few seconds later the street lumen went out, blanketing the area in darkness. Blueblood almost tripped in surprise, and he stumbled to a stop right before the batpony landed in front of him. Landed badly, as it turned out, because Dusk was still suffering some disorientation from his concussion and landed on his injured leg.

“Ah! Ow! Oh!” Dusk hissed in pain and pranced back and forth, flapping his wings wildly. In doing so he accidentally slapped Blueblood in the face, further unsettling the drunken unicorn. Blueblood yelped and recoiled, and this time he did trip, striking a hoof against the lumen post and promptly tipping over onto his side.

Gears ignored the shouts and thumps behind him, walking up to the front door. The knob had a simple mechanical lock, more for assuring privacy than deterring what little crime there was in even the shadier districts of Canterlot. He raised his bionic hoof to the door knob, and the edge opened up to reveal a pair of metal probes.

“What the hay is wrong with you?” Blueblood wailed, lighting up his horn so that he could see.

“Shut that thing off!” Dusk hissed back, squinting his amber-colored eyes against the light of the prince’s magic. “Why do you think I took out the lumen to begin with?”

“I’m not a nocturnal beast OR a cybernetic abomination! I can’t see in the dark!” Blueblood complained. Nonetheless he cut off his magic, and once again that particular patch of sidewalk was engulfed in darkness.

A click and a creak came from the building, and the bickering stallions turned to look. The blue-green glow of Gear’s optic lights hung in the shadows in front of the doorway, and then tilted in the direction of the entrance.

Dusk Blade and Prince Blueblood scurried inside, although the latter struck his hoof against the doorstep and fell over again. With a cry of surprise followed by an embarrassed grumble Blueblood staggered through the doorway, and then Gear Works entered behind him and closed the door.

“NOW may I summon a light?” Blueblood asked impatiently, afraid to move further and risk tripping again.

“Yeah, sure. If you really need it,” Dusk said smugly, trotting ahead of the other ponies.

Blueblood’s horn flashed, generating a floating ball of magical light and illuminating the interior of the home. It was fairly cramped and lightly furnished, and what furniture there was had plastic sheeting over it. It had the look of a home that had been abandoned in a hurry, but wasn’t being prepared to be sold.

“Whose home is this?” Blueblood asked. “This doesn’t look like some Senator’s rental property.”

“The registrar codex lists the current owner as Starshine Bell, currently a rank two enchantress among the 38th Company’s cabal unicorns,” Gear Works explained, causing the other stallions to wince. “Her property is currently being held in trust, under the very reasonable assumption she will not be returning to Canterlot.”

“Bleak,” Dusk replied, heading for the stairs.

“I don’t know about that; I remember that name. She was present at both the battle of Ponyville and the subsequent founding of the Nethalican. Her efforts were integral to the survival of our planet,” Gears replied.

“Some of us expected to go HOME after our tour of planet-saving,” Prince Blueblood grumbled, following Dusk up to the second story.

“Highly unlikely. After the Iron Warriors successfully weaponized unicorn magic and used it to rescue us from certain doom, why would they abandon that capability? Even if all the unicorns were good for was summoning Warp storms, it would still represent a fantastic strategic advantage.” Gear Works carefully limped up the stairwell after the others, and the trio emerged into the master bedroom. “Really, I’m surprised they haven’t been more aggressive in utilizing pegasi as well; being able to shape the weather on command surely has significant tactical applications.”

Blueblood twisted his head around to address the cyborg. “And what if we don’t WANT to waste our lives away as servants to cultist fanatics in a smog-choked factory-city or monstrous space craft?”

“I can barely comprehend such a perspective,” Gears admitted.

The master bedroom was much like the rest of the rooms, with a plastic sheet laid over the bed and a few chairs stacked in a corner. Dusk Blade tugged the sheet off with the claw of his wing and then flopped onto the bed with a groan of pain.

“Well I don’t know about you guys, but I’m ready to head back to base tomorrow,” the batpony announced. “A brief vacation in Canterlot sounded dull back when I was merely faking a combat injury. If I’m ACTUALLY going to be laid up until my skull heals I’d rather do it in my own bunk in a city that can do nanostitching sutures.” He sighed, then added. “I’m aware of the irony.”

“So what did you come here for, if you didn’t want to actually visit someplace you can actually see the sun for a few days?” asked Blueblood, standing at the other side of the bed.

“Why would a thestral want to see the sun?” Dusk scoffed. “I came here to make sure Gears didn’t get talked into abandoning the Iron Warriors! Or forced into it, as it were.”

“A grossly unnecessary intervention,” the Dark Acolyte huffed, his voice rising again. “Besides, you were probably just to trying to prevent me from finding out about what happened to my sister.”

“No! That wasn’t it! Honest!” Dusk insisted. “I completely forgot about her after I threw her out of Ferrous Dominus! I had NO long term plan for hiding that!”

Blueblood glanced between the two stallions in confusion. “What in Tartarus happened to you two?”

“It’s a Friendship thing. You wouldn’t get it,” Dusk replied. “Oh, speaking of which: I never did thank you for dragging my unconscious body out of your parents’ place, so thanks for that, Gears.”

“It was the Techpriest’s PARENTS who savaged you?” Blueblood asked incredulously.

“Something like that, yes,” Gear Works answered before lowering himself onto the floor. “In any case, I concur with your earlier proposition. We can leave tomorrow.”

“Ugh. And I suppose as my escort I have to go with you, don’t I? Asinine,” Prince Blueblood grumbled, letting the previous topic drop entirely. He climbed into the bed opposite Dusk Blade, fluffing the pillow with a few telekinetic pulses from his horn.

“You already got kicked out of your house after a single evening; what would you do tomorrow if we didn’t leave?” Dusk asked.

“Perhaps to seek out the couple he encountered and apologize?” Gears suggested.

Dusk Blade and Blueblood laughed, with the former trailing off into pained coughs after a few seconds.

“Ahhh… still hurts to laugh,” sighed the thestral. “Anyway, let’s aim for noon or something to leave. You’ll probably be sleeping off a hangover, Prince, and I need some extra rest for the ringing in my skull to die down.”

“It’s later than I’d prefer, but all right,” Gears agreed. “The sooner we return to Ferrous Dominus, the sooner I can return to reviewing the field data for the Striders.”

“You’re still injured,” Blueblood reminded him. “In fact, I’d guess our little scuffle in Ponyville probably made your wounds much worse.”

“There’s a great deal of work I can do while immobilized,” Gear Works insisted. “For me this trip was only ever an excuse to meet my family and achieve some degree of closure with them. I don’t expect to be visiting more often in the future, if at all.”

The Dark Acolyte laid his head on the floor, and the lights under his hood winked out. Blueblood squirmed in place for a few seconds, and then the magic from his horn dimmed. The bedroom went totally dark.

Dusk Blade stared at nothing for a minute, his thoughts racing. “Hey, Gears?” he said suddenly, interrupting the silence. “Can I ask you something?”

One of the smaller optics lights in the corner of Gear’s hood turned on, creating a single speck of glimmering blue-green down near the floor. “What is it?”

“How do you do it, Gears?”

“……. How do I do what? Field analysis studies?”

“No, not that specifically. Just… uh…” Dusk frowned, wetting his lips while he thought through his question. “It’s like… you really love your family. You truly appreciate them, whether or not they treated you very well, right?”

“Affirmative. They’ve made some mistakes, but they’re all good ponies and each of them has helped me far more than they’ve ever hurt me with negligence or careless words. What about it?” Another few optics lights turned on.

“That’s just… amazing to me,” Dusk mumbled, staring up at the ceiling. “You really love and care about them, but you still defied and left them. I thought I was going to have to talk you into staying with the 38th Company at some point, but you never had a doubt in your mind you would go back, did you? They would have really had to force you to stay.”

“Yes. And then I would have gone back anyway, as foal-napping me and imprisoning me is not a feasible long-term solution,” Gear Works replied, finally lifting his head and turning toward the bed. “Father is rather headstrong and decisive, as I’m sure you noticed. But my family simply isn’t capable of restraining me for long.”

“Incredible,” Dusk mumbled.

“… Is it?” the cyborg asked.

“Not all of us feel our destiny so keenly as you do,” Blueblood interjected, deciding that he may as well join the conversation if his companions weren’t going to let him sleep. “The Lieutenant and I were conscripted under the Iron Warriors. You made your way to the city and joined one of its most mysterious and exclusive orders on your own. There’s a certain… strength in your simple-minded certainty and devotion to your future in the Mechanicus. I do not envy you, but it is not without merit.”

“I see it as nothing more than the most obvious fulfilment of my destiny, much as any other pony is drawn to a craft related to their talents and cutie mark,” Gears explained. “Perhaps I sought my true destiny in a place where other ponies fear to tread because my fascination with the Mechanicus is that much greater, but I’m no braver than anypony else.”

“Haven’t you EVER thought about quitting, though? They hate you!” Dusk pointed out.

“I have, actually. During my stay in the Mechanicus penitent cells,” Gears admitted bitterly. “There are, in fact, tortures that could make even me regret the path I have chosen.”

“Until someone let you out,” Dusk added.

“Yes, of course,” Gear agreed, tilting his head to the side. “Once I was free to go, I had access to my research again. It would have been foolish to throw that away over a mere 30-hour lockdown in the mag-chambers.”

“Incredible,” Dusk and Blueblood mumbled simultaneously.

“I… don’t understand,” Gear Works said, his ears flipping down.

“Many batponies tribes don’t have cutie marks. Mine doesn’t,” Dusk said, changing the topic. “I sometimes wonder what it’s like… There’s a whole legend about us losing them after Luna’s banishment by ‘breaking free of our destiny’ or whatever, but I’m pretty sure it’s mostly lies. We… didn’t do very well without them, I think. Lots of deprivation and civil strife and provoking the local pony settlements into hunting us down. And it would have been REAL nice if somepony in the caves randomly turned out to have a talent for medicine or cooking, let me tell you.”

“You thestrals do have quite an insidious reputation,” Blueblood said grimly. “Hostile, unruly, uncivilized, and none of you work an honest trade.”

Dusk Blade was glad that the darkness hid his expression as he replied, “Yeah, we know. We joined the Lunar Guard to try to fight that type of prejudice.”

“Prejudice? You earned that reputation AS the Lunar Guard!” Blueblood retorted. “Most Canterlot citizens thought batponies were an ancient myth before Princess Luna was purified and brought a pack of you savages here to serve her during the nocturnal hours! And we dearly regret tha-AUGH!”

“Prince, please refrain from shouting,” Gear Works said, lowering his head back down to the floor. “If the neighbors hear conversation coming from an abandoned home they may call the guards to investigate.”

“He BIT me! The psychotic mongrel actually bit me!” the unicorn complained, thrashing about under the covers.

“Wasn’t me. Must have some kind of bug under the sheets,” Dusk lied.

“That was no insect, you scoundrel! I think I’m bleeding! What if it gets infected?!”

“Some third of our army worships a greasy ball of disease, you’ll be fine.”

“I’m not one of them!”

“Not YET, you’re not.”

“Please stop fighting,” Gear Works implored the others. “The two adjacent units ARE currently populated.”

“You’re the ones who are keeping me up! I turned my horn light off long ago!” Blueblood complained.

“Nopony asked you for your opinion on Gear’s career OR batponies in general,” Dusk retorted.

Gear Works groaned, and the lights under his hood turned off again.





Canterlot City
The following day

The next afternoon saw the three stallions crossing Canterlot once again, two of them in a particularly awful state. Blueblood’s eyes were bloodshot and his mane was in disarray, with his clothes even more rumpled and dirty than they were the previous night. His hat had at least been removed from his horn, but it now bore a very large and obvious hole in the front. Dusk Blade was in, if anything, even worse shape, with several deep bruises on his head and one leg. The batpony’s ears and wings hung down, his eyelids struggled to stay open, and every once in a while he’d stumble and sway to one side.

Gear Works still had one leg bandaged up, but was obviously better rested than the other two. With the sluggish pace set by his companions he didn’t even need to limp. The Dark Acolyte rather enjoyed the leisurely walk to the train station, and frequently snapped pict-captures and spectrograph images of objects they passed by that he found interesting.

“Canterlot has changed a lot since I lived here, hasn’t it? It’s a shame I couldn’t spend at least one evening with my parents to discuss what everyday life is like with a municipal vox net and noosphere bank,” Gears said to himself.

“I would likewise like to spend an evening with whomever of your relatives gave Lieutenant Blade a concussion,” Prince Blueblood grunted.

“Are you going to be like this the entire trip back?” Dusk asked, pausing to yawn. “Because I’m probably going to sleep on the train, and Gears really shouldn’t have to put up with your whining on his own.”

“No, actually, once we’re on board I plan to become inebriated as quickly as possible,” Blueblood admitted. “Until you’re unconscious I do insist on being insufferable, however.”

“Urggh…” Dusk released a pained groan, squinting his eyes and pressing his wingtips against the sides of his head. “Hey, Prince? Are you allowed to see Princess Celestia personally? Like, whenever you want?”

Blueblood quirked an eyebrow. “More or less. Why?”

“Can you tell her to turn the sun down a little? Is that a thing she can do?” Dusk asked. “Seriously, this is just WAY too bright. How do you guys stand this?”

“You were a Canterlot citizen for months, at the least. How did you stand it then?” the Prince asked.

“By SLEEPING during the day!” Dusk Blade snapped, only to slump and yawn again. “I know I’ve changed my sleep cycle to be awake more during daylight hours, but this is too much! Don’t they use cloud cover?! Won’t it get too hot if you just… let the sun… just… uh… shine on everything? There were clouds in Ponyville!”

“Clearly the Lieutenant isn’t much of a morning pony,” Blueblood sneered. “Pathetic.”

“In defense of the batponies, the atmospheric differences between night and day are rather muted within Ferrous Dominus,” Gear Works interjected. “The pollution blocks much of the sun, the extensive lumen matrix lights the streets very well at night, and the ambient temperature doesn’t vary by much since the manufactorum starts venting plasma after nightfall.”

“You really needn’t defend the batponies,” Blueblood responded. “Seriously, it’s not worth it.”


Dusk made some sleepy retort to the unicorn, but Gears filtered it out as they approached the train station. His companions had been cranky and noisy during the brief walk across the city, and despite their claims he didn’t expect them to calm down during the trip home. He just hoped the train ride out would be less eventful than it was coming in.

Then the cyborg pony stopped. His optics jumbled about in his visor for a second, and then several of them zoomed in to magnify a particular pony at the edge of the train platform. Not that she was difficult to spot and identify with her particular color scheme, but he was surprised enough to see her that he needed to be sure.

“We may have a problem,” Gear Works announced.

“What? Is there still alien apple residue on the train?” Prince Blueblood asked. He stepped up next to Gear Works, but couldn’t see anything that obviously warranted a warning.

“Swift Striker is here. I believe she’s waiting for us.”

Dusk jolted, raising his head up straight and spreading his wings in preparation to take off. “What? Here? Where?!”

Blueblood was surprised by Dusk’s response, but also very puzzled. “Swift Striker? Of the Canterlot Sunbeams?”

“The very same, Prince. Are you a fan?” Gears asked.

“Somewhat, yes. I hosted their championship victory banquet two years ago. Unfortunately the last season was canceled due to alien invasion; I believe a Dreadnought wrecked the stadium wall while it was chasing some Tau Pathfinders through the district.” Blueblood spotted the mare in question sitting at the edge of the embarkation platform. She looked distracted, and stared off into the distance while other passengers walked around her to board the train or get somewhere else in the station. There was no mistaking the pony athlete, however; she was even wearing her hoofball jersey with the team’s sun emblem on it. “What is she doing here?”

“Doesn’t matter. We need to evade,” Dusk Blade said, his eyes darting back and forth. “I can infiltrate the train directly, and I don’t think the prince has anything to worry about, but Gears can’t sneak. Here’s what we’re going to do-“

Rather than indulge the Lieutenant, Gear Works lifted his servo arm higher and then raised his voice. “Striker! What are you doing here?”

The mare jumped up in surprise at hearing the voice, and Dusk also jumped once she swiveled her head around and sighted them.

“GEARS?! What are you doing?” the thestral asked in a panic.

Swift Striker spent a moment to pull something onto her back. Gears recognized it immediately; it was the duffel bag that he had brought to his parents’ home and had subsequently abandoned. Then she rushed toward the stallions at a fast trot.

“Why are you greeting a star hoofball player like you know her?” Blueblood asked before turning to Dusk Blade. “And why are YOU suddenly so nervous about it?”

“Gears! You’re here! Thank Celestia! I checked the hospital and couldn’t find you, so this was the only other place I could think of!” Swift Striker stopped in front of the Dark Acolyte, a tired smile on her face. Dusk Blade recoiled and spread his wings as if to take off, but she ignored him entirely.

“The train station was a good guess. After… what happened, I have no particular reason to stay.” Gear’s servo arm nudged forward. “I believe that’s the bag we left at home?”

“Yeah. Mom was NOT happy to see how many weapons were in there.” Swift Striker grimaced while Gears lifted the duffel bag off her back with the claw of his servo arm. “But, well, that’s not the real reason I’m here…”

Gears pulled the bag over and onto his back. “I guessed as much. Go ahead. I’m going to return to Ferrous Dominus and the Dark Mechanicus regardless, but I will hear you out.”

Blueblood swiveled his head between the mare and the cyborg. “Wait, hold on! What is going on here? How do you two know each other? You were visiting Swift Striker’s home? What is this?!”

“Huh? Oh, Prince Blueblood! Geez, sorry, I didn’t even notice you with that getup.” Swift tried and failed to suppress a chuckle at seeing the unicorn’s disheveled state. “How do you know my brother Gear Works?”

“BROTHER?!” Blueblood yelped.

“Yes, we’re siblings,” Gears replied. “As for the Prince, he’s a menial Overseer in Ferrous Dominus. His accompanying me is more of a bureaucratic oversight than anything else.”

“I… I don’t understand…” Blueblood looked absolutely shaken by this revelation, his eyes wide and his ears pinned back. “Were one of you adopted? Is that what happened here?”

Swift’s expression soured considerably. “Prince, you’ll have to excuse me. I came here to talk to my brother. And possibly finish off Dusk Blade, but I haven’t decided on that quite yet.”

Dusk flinched, his hair standing straight up like an angry cat’s. Blueblood staggered backward, gaping. Gears made a tsking noise through his mask.

“Striker, please don’t bully the Lieutenant. You’ve humbled him sufficiently since your last meeting.” Then he drew himself up. “That said, I have taken his words to heart regarding my role in the Dark Mechanicus. I won’t abandon my course now.”

“Yeah, I… I think I get it.” Swift hung her head and her ears flipped back. “I’m still really afraid and I hate what they’ve done to you and… well, I think we all said plenty. But... you really want this. It wasn’t that we drove you away or that you didn’t have any other options. You WANT to be a spooky cyborg magician, right?”

“That’s an unorthodox way of putting it, but yes,” Gears admitted.

“Then that’s… well, it’s not fine, but I understand.” Swift seemed to be building up to something, her eyes darting away from Gear Works as she chewed her lip. “But… before you go, could I… could I get a pict-capture? With us?”

Blueblood perked suddenly, and then he started patting down his rumpled coat. “What? Oh, no, but my mane is just-“

“No, not you,” Swift Striker corrected, sounding annoyed. Then she started rummaging through a saddlebag. “All the pictures of you that we have now are from before the accident. I think Mom even dug up a few more and hung them up after you left town. They… They still want to remember you as you were before, I guess.” She pulled out a pict-capture surveillance unit.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Gears replied. “The accident was traumatic for all of us, even if I’ve recovered adequately. But if you want a more current photo, I’d be happy to oblige you.”

“Thank you, Gears. It would mean a lot to me,” Swift Striker said, something approaching a smile breaking over her face. Then she waved the machine in Blueblood’s direction. “Excuse me, Prince? Could you do me a favor and take the pict, please?”

Prince Blueblood actually paused to consider it, weighing the trivial effort of granting the request against the likelihood of things escalating to violence if he made Dusk do it. “Oh, fine. If you insist.” His horn lit up, and the pict-capture device lifted off from Swift’s hooves and into the air. “Here, stand in front of that fountain so I don’t capture any of the tourists gawking at the cybernetic cripple.”

The earth ponies moved over in front of the fountain, and Gear Works swiveled his servo arm around and over Swift’s back. She yelped slightly in surprise, and then adopted an extremely forced smile as the metal pincer pulled her into what could charitably be considered a hug.

“Is that really the best expression you can manage?” Prince Blueblood asked, levitating the machine to eye level.

“S-Sorry! I’m trying!” Swift Striker insisted, trying to force a smile harder and visibly sweating at the effort.

“I was speaking to the cultist. I don’t expect you could do better with him touching you,” Blueblood grunted before pushing a button on the side. The view screen pulsed, and a small indicator lumen turned red and then green. “There. I don’t imagine we’ll do better than that.”





Blueblood spun the pict-capture unit around in the air with his magic so that it faced him, and then he grinned and pushed the button again. The machine clicked and whirred, and again the lumens changed colors.

“And there’s something slightly more pleasant to bring home with you,” Blueblood said with a smirk.

“Lovely,” Swift deadpanned while Gears withdrew his servo arm. “I don’t suppose you want to snap one of Dusk too? I could print out his face and put it on my training targets.”

Dusk Blade released a high-pitched screech in response, spreading out his legs and wings with his tail whipping back and forth. Blueblood and several other ponies nearby recoiled at the noise, and then pinned their ears back.

“Striker, I asked you to stop that. He’s actually been behaving himself for the last few minutes,” Gears chided.

“I believe those two things are connected, actually,” Blueblood quipped, returning the pict machine to Swift Striker’s saddlebags.

“All right Gears. I guess… this is goodbye, then,” Swift said with a slight hitch in her voice. “I… can’t promise I’ll see you again in Ferrous Dominus.”

“You can’t get in! You’re still a security discrepancy!” Dusk snapped, shaking his hoof at the mare while using Blueblood as cover.

“I’ll fix that as soon as I get back,” Gear Works assured his sibling, patting her gently on the shoulder. “You don’t need to visit, but if you ever want to do so, I’ll ensure you are welcomed and protected. Goodbye, Striker. I love you.”

“Awww! Gears!” Swift Striker was suddenly overcome with emotion, and she lunged forward to seize her brother in a hug. “Please be careful back home! And don’t let your evil friends hurt you anymore, okay?”

“I can guarantee nothing. But I’ll try,” the Dark Acolyte said solemnly. Then they parted, and Swift Striker turned and trotted away.


Gear Works spent a moment watching his sister leave, and then turned back to the train station. “It seems our business here has concluded without further complications. Shall we depart?”

“I still want to know how it is that YOU are related to one of the most celebrated professional athletes in all of Equestria and nopony mentioned it until now,” Blueblood said, following the hooded pony to the platform.

“I can’t believe she called us evil and neither of you said anything,” grumbled Dusk Blade.

“She called YOU evil. I’m not his friend,” Blueblood corrected.

“You bully Gears too!” Dusk retorted as he stepped into the train.

“Yes, and I take pains not to generate any expectations to the contrary,” the unicorn explained while he followed. Then he stopped, suddenly looking worried. “Oh, drat! What if Miss Striker thought I was friends with you two? Somepony might ask her how she got a picture of me in this state! If she were to mention you two my reputation would never recover!”

“Why are you more worried about being seen with us than you are about being thrown out of your home after a drunken fight?”

“I promised to be insufferable until I acquired more synthehol and I meant it, you unwashed savage.”

Attention! Line four rail service to Ponyville, Saddlebrook, Palomino Junction, Happy Hills Unification Complex, and Ferrous Dominus will be departing once ticket scans are complete. Please ensure that all luggage has been properly stowed and all weapons and explosive devices are inactive and safely secured!
Enjoy your trip, and remember: We are Chaos, and Chaos is strong!

The train doors slid shut.