//------------------------------// // REWRITE 9: Oh, So That's How it Is // Story: Halo: Ponies and Clouded Pasts // by Blazer //------------------------------// "A Roc," Luna hissed. John stared at the massive bird through the 2x zoom on his HUD. The damn thing was big—even bigger than the corpse laying near the comparatively miniscule purple blob of the other Princess. Like most creatures on this planet, it defied all scientific logic and Darwinian principles. "What about magic?" "Those beasts came before most other creatures in Equestria—they are not affected by our magic as a result." John watched as the Roc approached a grey unicorn guard. "Then what's the plan?" Hearing no response, he glanced over to make sure the Princess was still there. Fortunately, she was. Unfortunately, she regarded him with a suspicious stare. "Let us see if you truly are a powerful 'weapon,'" she mused. For the second time this evening, his stomach turned upside-down—he was being teleported again. As he regained his senses, he felt his stomach start to rise into his throat. He was falling. He glanced up at Luna who hovered above him, her horn aglow as she showed visible strain in sustaining some kind of spell. John looked down, seeing the top of the Roc approaching him quickly. Not a bad plan. Hopefully his legs would still be intact. He slammed into the top of the bird, his immense weight carrying him through the creature's neck and to the sands below. Wincing as his knees creaked and groaned from the sudden compression, John shut his eyes instinctively as the desert exploded around him. His legs burned fiercely and his ankles popped inside his armor, but he remained otherwise unharmed. He wasn't sure if it was worthy of being called an assassination attempt, but a part of him still felt pissed about being dropped like a living guillotine. Then again, he felt that something had cushioned his fall—judging by how the Roc had crumpled beneath him, he'd bet it had something to do with that spell Luna was sustaining. John slowly reopened his eyes, blinking as his eyes struggled to focus on the gore flecked across his visor. Pulling his arms and feet free of the flesh entangled with his limbs, the Spartan rose back to his full height as he studied the corpse he stood upon. He had fallen on the base of the Roc's neck, his boots and hands crushing and blending the skin against shattered bone and his armor plates. Judging by how it no longer moved, it hadn't survived John’s landing. "Brightsteel!" Luna cantered towards the gray unicorn, the latter regarding her with surprise. "Princess!" They embraced—a strange sight to see such a human gesture emulated by equines. Also wildly unprofessional. "Are you hurt?" "No, Princess. Was that...?" "Simple improvisation, Brightsteel." They both turned to face him—one ecstatic, one concerned. "For a stone, thou flew most admirably!" *** “Welcome back to Equestria, King Gaspar,” Celestia greeted, bowing her head respectfully. Bringing her gaze to the griffon’s piercing eyes, she flashed one of her winning smiles, “I pray your journey was uneventful.” The griffon king looked every part of the “Warrior King” her cabinet had made him out to be. Atop his head sat a worn bronze circlet designed to resemble the northern mountain ranges of the Griffon Kingdom. He wore a thick green cape that draped over his right shoulder and most of his glittering chain cuirass. A single polished steel pauldron adorned his other shoulder, the straps attached to his cream-colored gambeson peeking out beneath his freshly-oiled chain. A thick leather belt cinched around his trim middle with a bulky sword frog hanging from it. A black sheath dipped beneath his cape while the sword’s hilt jutted majestically from his hip, its ornate carvings occasionally catching Celestia’s eye. The fact that he had brought his father’s blade to her chambers didn’t bode well. “Aye. It was quiet,” the griffon sniffed. He took several steps towards the Princess as he gave a short nod. His eyes darted towards the space behind Celestia, as if looking for somepony. “Where are the other Princesses?” “My apologies, your grace. The short notice of your visit has made it difficult to prepare a proper reception—they attend to matters in their respective domains.” “And your sister?” Celestia’s cheeks began to ache from holding her smile. “She is currently resting—she had an eventful evening.” She cracked an eye open. Gaspar regarded her with an uninterested look. “I understand. Know that I bear no ill will towards any of your fellow Princesses—even I must admit that this meeting was arranged on such short notice.” He wasn’t taking the bait. Gaspar was a slippery one. Thankfully, she had all her proof in five cells hundreds of feet beneath her hooves. “Two days ago, a meteor shower struck the southern side of Equestria.” Her muzzle began to relax as her smile faded. Gaspar was done with pleasantries. “The entire continent was witness to the spectacle. Whatever fell from the sky that night was scattered across the southwestern deserts of your nation.” “And is that the reason for this visit?” “Perhaps.” Celestia reapplied her smile as she turned towards the nearest window, “What is it you wish to know?” “What was on that ship?” Strike one. “The ship? You mean the meteorite?” Gaspar flashed a grin of his own. Only his wasn’t very disarming or warm. “I ask that you treat me as a fellow ruler and not an uninformed country bumpkin, Princess. We both have our methods of retrieving information.” She couldn’t hold it in any longer, glancing back at the griffon despot with an irritated expression, “I believe I met some of yours the previous evening, Gaspar.” The griffon’s jaw tightened but Gaspar remained silent. Celestia turned back to face the window. “Espionage is a direct violation of the Treaty of Stalliongrad.” “Please, Princess. That never stopped you, did it?” She faced the griffon once more—the disarming smile evaporating into an icy stare. “It seems that this treaty doesn’t stop a lot of things, your grace. However, I will have you know that what it does do is prevent further bloodshed between our nations.” King Gaspar stood resolute as she approached, the Princess stretching herself to her full height. She stood at his side, facing the other direction as she spoke over his shoulder, “You think me a warmonger and a tyrant, but I can assure you that the no side was victorious back then. I do not wish for more of these conflicts, nor do I seek more efficient methods to fight them.” “What assurances can you give me?” “Only my word, Gaspar. Nothing more.” They stood in silence, uncomfortably close to each other. Celestia could hear the gentle whistle of air passing through Gaspar’s beak as he weighed his options. “I wish to meet it. Your guest.” The Princess sighed. A high price. “I can arrange that.” “Then you will show me the ship.” She frowned. Master Chief would have something to say about that. “As you wish.” Gaspar turned on his heel, striding towards the double-doors to the chamber. He stopped near the entrance, “My father worked hard to ensure peace would endure between our kind. That I would rule our people in that peace. He told me there was no glory in war.” The griffon turned slightly, his proud swagger now reduced to a pathetic limp, “Know that the steps I take are only to protect my people and ensure fairness is observed.” Celestia nodded, the beginnings of a genuine smile working across her muzzle. “Of course, Gaspar.” The king clasped his claws behind his back and sighed defeatedly. He looked back into Celestia’s eyes, sorrow flashing behind his tired expression. “I ask that you release my scouts. It was a mistake to send them in the first place.” “You have my word. Should I send them to your quarters?” “Yes. Thank you.” Gaspar seemed to relax slightly before turning towards the front door, his cuirass jingling as he departed, “I look forward to meeting your other guest. From what I hear, they’re a fellow warrior.” The Princess bowed at the back of Gaspar’s head, “I will notify you when they return from their daily duties.” The griffon ruler left without another word, his green cape billowing as he moved to the doors. His guards bowed as he passed, each turning on their footclaws to follow him out. As the door closed behind him, the Princess lifted her head. Her ear flicked towards a large fresco depicting her sister’s triumphant return from the moon. “At ease.” “Your grace.” A unicorn appeared from behind a veil of invisibility. While she loathed the use of illusion magic within castle grounds, she had to admit its use when nonmagical guests came to visit. She turned to face the unicorn colt, his ashen coat and jet-black mane contrasted by his piercing blue eyes. “Did you find it?” “Captain Brightsteel opened it yesterday. Shall we bring the contents to the castle?” “Wait until our guests have departed. Discretion is your utmost priority. Are we clear?” “Crystal, your grace. Will there be anything else?” “You have your mission.” The unicorn bowed before his outline shimmered and vanished, leaving the Princess alone with her own disgust. *** Twilight winced as her head throbbed against the tightly wrapped bandage. While the pain was entirely from her head wound, the nausea in her gut stemmed from a much deeper issue. She walked in a grungy dungeon hallway, her hoofbeats the only sound echoing alongside the drips of water as she traversed the bowels of the Royal Palace. Somewhere in these forsaken halls, her student resided—guilty of forced entry and magical manipulation. A mixture of anger and guilt bubbled in her belly as she turned a corner, her heart skipping a beat as her eyes rested upon a slumped figure facing the far wall. The shadows cast by the nearby light source hid their identity, but Twilight knew who it was. A guard bearing a brass lantern patrolled the rows of cells, giving Twilight a nod in acknowledgement. “May I speak to her in private?” “Of course, your grace.” The alabaster pegasus trotted past the Princess, retreating around the corner. She waited for the hoofbeats to fade into silence. “I’m sorry,” Starlight murmured, the shadows cast by Twilight’s horn dancing as she shifted in her cell. “I know.” Twilight’s jaw tightened. Her wings slowly unfurled as her eyes flashed with anger, “But the amount of damage you caused in such a short time…” She looked up at Starlight—her anger faltering as she saw the unicorn meeting her eyes with a sorrowful expression. She redoubled her resolve as she continued. “It was a delicate situation, and you almost undid all of our hard work. We had gained his trust and were working through each other’s terms. And then you waltz in, casually enthralling the Royal Guardsponies and our resident extraterrestrial—breaking our promise and committing high treason against Equestria!” “Nopony was supposed to know,” Starlight mewled pathetically, her eyes falling to her hooves. “When has that intention ever made anything justified?! Not to mention the use of forbidden mind-magics! If done incorrectly, you could have caused permanent damage!” “I knew what I was doing,” Starlight murmured, even quieter than before. “No, you obviously didn’t!” Twilight groaned as a lance of pain pricked the back of her head. “You’re right.” The Princess stared at the back of Starlight’s disheveled mane. “And yet… You’re wrong, too.” Twilight arched her eyebrow, “How so?” Starlight remained motionless as she spoke, “You were wrong to believe I could be reformed.” The Princess’ lower lip trembled but she remained resolute. “The knowledge I have is dangerous. Combined with the way I do things, maybe it’s best that I stay here.” Twilight felt her chest squeeze painfully tight, but she said nothing. “Is there anything else you wanted to say to me,” Starlight asked, her voice breaking. “I heard about the circumstances. Master Chief told me what happened.” Starlight twitched. “He told me you were frightened and reasoned that the spell was a reaction.” “He said that?” Twilight’s expression remained stern, “He gave you the benefit of the doubt. Of course, he wasn’t happy that you extracted information from him he would have otherwise not given up. But he conceded that he might have carelessly spooked you without considering the consequences.” She saw Starlight’s head rise briefly before falling towards the floor. “Still.” Twilight’s frown deepened. She remembered something very familiar—it was during her first Winter Wrap-Up in Ponyville. A day that had gone down in infamy. “I should have told you.” Starlight’s head rose again and stayed up—her watery eyes illuminated by Twilight’s horn. “If I had told you what was going on, none of this would have happened.” Starlight let out a dry chuckle, “You don’t have to lie to me, Twilight. Just say it.” “Say what? That you’re ‘irredeemable,’” she shook her head, “You’re barking up the wrong tree, Starlight.” The unicorn gave her a sidelong glance over a shoulder, “I can’t take back what I did.” “But you can atone. The fact that you’re guilty about it is a good thing.” Starlight turned around, hesitantly meeting Twilight’s gaze, “Really?” “I mean, if you didn’t, that’d be categorical psychopathic behavior. So, at least you’re not… one of those?” The unicorn giggled to herself as she walked to the bars, “Very reassuring, Twilight.” The Princess smiled, “Glad you’re feeling better.” “So, any ideas on getting me out of here?” “Nope. You’ll have to serve at least a week’s sentence.” “…Oh. You’re serious.” “I mean, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still angry with you.” “Fair enough.” Starlight sat down, wiping her eyes. Twilight watched her expectantly. “So… Wanna know his name?” *** “Are you going to turn that thing off?” “Don’t know how.” Cortana kept silent as the Banshee’s strange alarm continued to chime. Thankfully, it had the subtlety of a gentle reminder in comparison to the “imminent death” alarms of most UNSC ships. “I still can’t raise anybody. Alpha Base is quiet, and Major Silva isn’t answering his comms. I’ve left a message about our current objectives, but I think we’re on our own.” John’s eyes flicked to a blinking light on the dashboard. The subtle chime stopped—replaced by a louder, more obnoxious klaxon. “Can you please do something about—!” The Spartan’s fist slammed into the console, rocking the aircraft with its force. A large section of lights winked out on the console as the alarm stopped. One of the wingtip propulsion engines flared out, the smoke trail vanishing as John felt his hackles raise. Five seconds later, the wingtip began trailing smoke once more as the propulsion drive coughed to life. “We can leave it on next time.” John grunted in reply as he focused on the screen in front of him. His helmet’s compass still pointed directly at Cortana’s nav marker, the miles continuing to tumble. “I still can’t believe they took him.” The Spartan tightened his grip on the twin control sticks, “It’s why we’ve got to take this ring out.” “If we can take it out,” Cortana mused. “I’ve been running the numbers. We’ve done well so far, but I don’t know how much longer our luck is gonna last.” “You said it yourself. We’re all that’s left. We’ve got to do this.” “Well, I’m glad at least one of us is in a chipper mood.” John chose not to give in to the goading. Cortana fell silent again, the craft’s throttled whining filling the space. “Are you scared, Chief?” John hesitated. “…Yes.” “Good.” He waited for the snide remark, but none came. “I’m glad I’m not the only one.” A few more minutes passed before a burst of static jolted them out of their introspection. “Echo 419 broadcasting on all frequencies. Does anyone read? I say again, Foehammer broadcasting on all frequencies. Respond if read, over.” “Foehammer, this is Cortana. We read you. It’s good to hear you, over,” Cortana gushed. A grin tugged at John’s mouth. ”The platform is cleared, sir.” John blinked the memory from his eyes as he glanced up from the preflight checklist, “Thanks. I’ll take it from here.” “Just give us a holler.” Waving off the unicorns, the Spartan approached the Pelican—now elevated on a smooth sandstone plinth. The least-derelict of the three Pelicans sat on its wheels, one of its rear spars resting on top of an empty munitions crate to keep it upright. She was in a sorry state and was going to need a lot of work. John briefly wondered how many months it was going to take to get it running. He moved to the pilot’s seat and began to run through the checklist, confirming the correct settings for each item before circling back to the dreaded engine-check. Just as he remembered, only five of the eight engines were working—with one of the three broken Ramjets being an internal engine located in her starboard wing cluster. That was if it even was an engine problem. It could be the drive not powering the engine, or even an issue with the starter itself—the options threatened to overwhelm him right off the bat. He wasn’t even sure where to start. He could see Cortana shaking her head in disbelief at his helplessness. He narrowed his eyes before powering everything down, returning to the ship exterior. He looked up at the right wing’s engine cluster, his armored gloves feeling for any obvious imperfections on the surface of the nacelles. Finding nothing glaring, he hit the zoom on his visor and took a second pass. Blood flushed his cheeks—he felt like a child playing with his parents’ toys: He could only make educated guesses at what the function of each part was, never truly knowing the purpose of any of it. He moved to another Pelican whose starboard wing cluster was intact according to the internal readout, studying how everything looked and comparing it to the other. Finding no obvious differences, John knew it had to be something internal. Wanting to avoid working on the central engine clusters for the moment, John opted to work on the rear engines instead. From what he could remember, it was also the starboard side that was causing issues when starting her up minutes before. He took careful notes on the removal and placement of each armored plate, sometimes having to retrace them as he found other parts obstructing his progress. Almost two hours had passed once he reached the engines themselves. Despite his armor’s best efforts, he could feel the sun beating down through his visor as the brutal desert heat began to seep into his suit’s interior. The lack of progress combined with the rising temperatures had pushed his patience to its limit. It was infuriating. It was impossible. It was hopeless. He took a seat on the crate, resting his elbows on his knees as he clasped his hands together. “Sir?” One of the unicorns approached him in his peripheral. “Did you want something to drink?” John glanced up at the colt—the young technician a far cry from the stoic guards he had been dealing with until now. A total stranger. One of many he was trapped here with. He sat in silence as the reality of his predicament began to set in. The colt cocked his head. He was stranded. He was alone.