//------------------------------// // Chapter IV // Story: Solitaire // by Acologic //------------------------------// Only one pony sat in the office. Behind a desk was an empty chair. On the walls were photographs, framed certificates and a pencil sketch – a schooner on a calm sea. The carpet was grey and sterile. Files and stationery sat on shelves. A gable-green metal cabinet leaned against high wooden skirting. Beside it drooped a flag on its pole. The pony’s coat was midnight-blue and her mane periglacial. Her uniform was stiff and spotless, with high-ranking shoulder marks and a necktie. She sat as though at attention. She stared, unblinking, her eyes fixed on the empty chair. The door opened and she rose, saluting. A pony wearing a colonel’s uniform limped forward and, sighing, dropped into the seat. He rearranged some papers, pulled some forward, pushed others aside and read something briefly. The pony who had waited did not so much as twitch. ‘At ease,’ said the Colonel. She sat. ‘Your latest report intrigued me, Major,’ said the Colonel. ‘Sir,’ she said. ‘In which regard, may I ask?’ ‘You may, for it is the very reason that you are here. I am referring to the latest events of the Rock Dunes Regiment, to what you have called “rumours of mind-control magic”. Who is this “Solitaire”? You’ve said very little.’ ‘There is very little to say, sir,’ said the Major. ‘What you have read is what I know.’ ‘I appreciate that,’ said the Colonel. ‘And it is so little that I have to ask, then, for what you suspect.’ The Major blinked. ‘They’re rumours, sir. We cannot set store by them on principle.’ ‘Don’t include me in that “we”, Major. A rumour in itself may be worthless, but it’s how a rumour starts that intrigues me. Especially a rumour such as this. For all the vagueness, there are moments of uncharacteristic specificity. You’ve given me a list of names – of “potential eye-witnesses”? What did they see?’ ‘I don’t know, sir.’ ‘I can see that, Major! I want to know!’ The Major paused. ‘Among the rumours are references to some sort of escapade in “C” Company. Those names are of the ponies who were on duty. I included that.’ ‘Yes, I see,’ said the Colonel, reading. ‘Well, I have to say, Major, I’m disappointed.’ ‘I am very sorry, sir.’ ‘For a notion so disturbing, this isn’t nearly enough. Oh, yes, Major. Disturbing.’ ‘With respect, sir, I wish to stress that they are rumours.’ The Colonel scoffed. She continued. ‘I served at the dunes, as you know, sir. I learned their ways. Here I sense another example of them – ponies coping through commotion, through sensation.’ ‘Your personal history is hardly relevant to the matter in question, Major,’ snapped the Colonel. ‘I suggest that you don’t play “experience” to my face again. You’re fortunate, in fact, that I need you enough not to complain more. Your reports leave me with more questions than answers.  You are uncompromising, uncooperative, uncommunicative and inflexible. That’s exactly why I’m issuing you this assignment.’ The Major’s brow rose a regulation inch. ‘Sir?’ ‘I shall be frank with you. Your diligence – and it is to your credit – has elevated you beyond the rank at which you are most effective. You were an exceptional lieutenant and a passable captain. As a major, you are displaced. You do not belong near high command, and –’ The Colonel smiled, studying her reaction. ‘I think you know this. You belong in the field and, as of today, that’s where I want you.’ She blinked. ‘You are demoting me,’ she said. ‘Do not presume without evidence, Major. I thought that was your way. I am not demoting you,’ said the Colonel. ‘I do not punish diligence; I reward it. You will keep your rank. That you are so unsuited to it and have it nonetheless is testament to your ability.’ The Major’s face did not move. The Colonel leafed through the papers and sighed. ‘I want you to get out there and find out how much of this is real. Let there be no ambiguity. This could be serious, beyond serious. “Mind-control magic” – were you misleading me, Major? I mean to find out. Before you leave, I want some answers. If you do not know the answers, I want you to give me guesses.’ ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘Who is Solitaire?’ ‘I don’t know, sir. Would you like to hear my guess?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘An invention, sir,’ said the Major. ‘The name is new, not old as the rumours say. Not a spell whose maker we have on record was made by them. No one relevant whom I have contacted has heard the name before, sir – let alone its associations.’ ‘Then why have they started, these rumours?’ The Major paused. ‘My guess again, sir?’ ‘Tell me.’ ‘A romanticisation of the escapade in “C” Company. Ponies crave distraction, and who can blame them?’ ‘What about this escapade, then? How much of that is real?’ ‘Evidence exists that, during a skirmish, thralls behaved uncharacteristically. They stopped firing, perhaps directly as a result of a spell.’ ‘Evidence? This report?’ said the Colonel, skimming. ‘This report of Captain Meadow?’ ‘Yes, sir. That is, in fact, the only evidence – the only “real” thing. Even then, it is a summary of eye-witness accounts. If I may, sir, the ponies involved must be debriefed regarding events – and regarding Solitaire.’ ‘Then that is exactly what you will do. You haven’t answered the most important question, Major.’ ‘Sir?’ ‘“Mind-control magic”. What evidence is there of that?’ ‘None, sir. That is rumour. They say the thralls stopped upon Solitaire’s command. Captain Meadow’s report says they stopped – only that they stopped.’ The Colonel sighed. ‘It’s too serious, too dangerous. Too much is going on here for us to leave it be. Whether it’s this Solitaire or the Olden Pony who stopped them, we cannot ignore the implications. If a spell interfered with those helmets in any way, we have to know about it. Whoever was behind it, if anyone was behind it – they must be found and used to serve Equestria. Sombra’s power is his ability to control this.’ The Colonel tapped his skull. ‘If there’s any hope, any pony out there who can help us fight him –’ The Colonel met the Major’s eyes. ‘And if, Celestia forbid, Sombra gets to them first…’ The Major nodded. ‘I understand the gravity, sir.’ ‘I hope so, Major. You will report directly to me. Interview the witnesses first and go from there. Captain Meadow, Rock Dunes Regiment, C.O. of “C” Company,’ he read. ‘Sergeant Smoothtooth, Rock Dunes Regiment, “C” Company. Lance Corporal Sweet, Rock Dunes Regiment, “C” Company. Private Starburst, Rock Dunes Regiment, “C” Company.’ He frowned. ‘Major Masterduke, R&D,’ he read. ‘Masterduke? The spellmaker?’ ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘He’s in the field?’ ‘Yes, sir. I spoke to Colonel Spruce. He told me that Major Masterduke is working to develop better firepower.’ ‘Speak to him first, then. This Solitaire business sounds right up his alley.’ ‘I will, sir.’ ‘Leave immediately, Major. Report as soon as you begin and keep me well up-to-date.’ ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘Dismissed.’ She stood, saluted, turned and left. Licking his teeth, Masterduke walked toward Colonel Comet’s tent. He was thinner than before and his brow was furrowed. His eyes were bloodshot and baggy. His fur was lank. He rubbed his chin. Neither he nor Starburst had cast the spell since their first night together. Masterduke had been observing “C” Company, the regimental artillery, yet their duties had not involved further combat. Though they had travelled the dunes like before, no thralls had engaged. Masterduke and Starburst had said little to each other and nothing about their secret. Ivy, however, brought up at breakfast, lunch and dinner the story she had heard. Others told tales about spells and miracles, none of which Masterduke had precipitated. ‘Solitaire’ gripped the regiment like a fever. Every time he passed a soldier whispering the name, Masterduke smiled. He rubbed his jaw. ‘Major Masterduke to see Colonel Comet,’ he told the sentry. ‘Go in, sir. The Colonel is expecting you.’ Masterduke paused, licked his teeth and entered. Colonel Comet stood, absorbed in papers, at his desk. He looked up as Masterduke neared. ‘Ah, Masterduke. How are you?’ ‘I am well, sir. Tired, I must admit. In Canterlot I had many luxuries. A good night’s sleep was my favourite.’ He smiled as he repeated the words. Comet chuckled. ‘That’s army life for you, Major. There’s little slacking. Speaking of which, how goes your work? Are you making progress?’ ‘Yes, sir,’ said Masterduke. ‘You write reports?’ ‘No.’ ‘Really?’ ‘To whom would I report? Myself? I know my work, Colonel. No one knows it better.’ ‘I was under the impression that you worked for Colonel Spruce,’ said Comet. ‘Is this no longer the case?’ ‘I apologise if you have been misled. It was never the case. You must understand, sir, that neither Spruce nor myself are soldiers. We are scientists – spellmakers. We carry ranks as tokens merely. Spruce and I knew each other long before the war. We taught together at the university.’ ‘Ah. I see,’ said Comet. He was reading. Masterduke licked his teeth. ‘Why do you ask, sir?’ he said. ‘I received a message from Colonel Tango’s office. He has sent Major Honey to investigate the pony of the moment, Our Helpful Horn, Solitaire.’ Masterduke’s eyes bulged. His mouth trembled and he rubbed his chin. ‘Investigate?’ he squeaked. Comet looked up. Masterduke cleared his throat. ‘What do you mean, sir? What does this have to do with me?’ ‘Well, it’s quite simple. As I heard it, you and your squad actually saw the pony in action. You did, didn’t you?’ Masterduke swallowed and nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘So, she’ll be asking me about you in…’ Comet tilted his head back and forth. ‘Little more than an hour’s time. Brace yourself, Major. I know Honey. She used to belong here, in my regiment.’ He chuckled. ‘She’ll give you all a grilling, but know it’s nothing to worry about. Colonel Tango’s job is to keep up-to-date on these things.’ Masterduke’s face twitched. ‘But this is a waste of time, surely,’ he said. ‘Forgive me, sir, but the entire business has been greatly exaggerated. I was right there, right beside – well, whom I thought was Solitaire – and I tell you that half the things they say –’ He grimaced. ‘Well, you know. Imaginations running wild more than anything,’ he finished. Comet nodded. ‘And I’m sure you’re right in that respect,’ he said. He grinned. ‘“Solitaire”. Pah! I must admit I’m looking forward to seeing Honey’s face when she realises she’s dragged herself out here again for an anticlimax. But you saw someone stop those thralls, so someone has to look into it. And here we are. At any rate, if and when I fail to satisfy the Major’s hunger for your personal details, know that I’ll be sending her your way.’ Masterduke shivered. He licked his teeth. He turned and paused. He turned, looked at Comet and said, ‘Where would I find Lieutenant Mask, sir?’ Colonel Comet’s eyes shot upward. ‘Ah!’ he said. ‘You have time? To liberate?’ Masterduke nodded. ‘Yes, sir, I do. As a matter of fact, I’ve achieved more – and more quickly – than I thought. I would be happy, as I said, to remove any helmets.’ ‘Splendid!’ said Comet. ‘Well, that’s excellent, Major. Thank you. One moment.’ He lifted a quill and scribbled on a page. ‘Give this to Mask – my authorisation. You’ll find him in the Pit. Take the third fissure on your right and speak to the sentries.’ Masterduke left the tent and stepped out of the cave. He followed Comet’s directions. The fissure widened, then finished. At its end stood two ponies, flanking the mouth of a low opening in the rock. ‘Let this Honey take issue with a liberator,’ breathed Masterduke. ‘I’m fortunate that the Colonel warned me!’ The sun was setting as the train slowed into Rock Dunes station. The doors clanked open and the soldiers poured out. Major Honey rose, donning her uniform, and followed the tide. She stepped onto the rock and strode forward. A steep stone staircase led up onto a dune. A long, narrow stream of ponies ascended. She joined it and climbed. At the top of the steps, Honey saw the horizon. Golden light danced across the desert of rock. The caravan funnelled into a fissure and the sunset disappeared. The ponies emerged into a huge cave. Here the tide dispersed and she stood, watching. White light blared into the space from lamps high above. White-clad soldiers walked to and fro. Against one wall were pinned canvases. Under these were gear and sleeping mats. ‘More or less as I left it,’ she muttered. She walked into the mouth of the cave. The space was deep. She stepped toward a large tent near the front. ‘Major Honey, First Intelligence Battalion,’ she said to a sentry. ‘Where is Colonel Comet?’ ‘The Colonel is expecting you, ma’am.’ ‘You did not answer my question.’ ‘He’s here, ma’am, in his tent.’ ‘This is his tent?’ ‘Yes, ma’am.’ ‘I shall see him now.’ ‘Very good, ma’am.’ Honey strode into the tent. A pony with a jet-black coat and mane stood, reading, at a desk. She approached him. ‘Colonel Comet,’ she said, saluting. ‘I have arrived.’ ‘Major Honey,’ said Comet, looking up. ‘Welcome to the dunes – welcome back, rather. How are you?’ ‘I am well, sir.’ Comet smiled. ‘“Well”. If I had a bit every time I heard that answer –’ He chuckled. ‘No, I still would not be wealthy. Well, then, Major, having read Colonel Tango’s message, I propose that we’ve no need for ceremony. I doubt that bothers you.’ ‘It doesn’t, sir.’ ‘Ask away, then, Honey; ask away. I’ll do my best to answer.’ ‘I see that you expected to be questioned.’ ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘You never let trifles like “Colonel” get in the way of –’ He shrugged. ‘Well, anything. And it seems you’re well on the way to becoming one yourself. I salute your persistence.’ ‘Thank you, Colonel,’ she said. ‘You’re welcome.’ ‘Who is Solitaire, sir?’ she asked. ‘I have absolutely no idea,’ said Comet. ‘Who do you think is Solitaire, sir?’ Comet shrugged. ‘Could be anyone – or no one. What I think he is –’ ‘“He”, sir?’ said Honey. Comet smiled. ‘What I think he is, Major, is a nice little story that’s boosted morale. Exactly the sort of story that you would have enjoyed with us.’ ‘Of course, sir,’ she said. ‘Is Major Masterduke here?’ ‘He is.’ ‘Who is he, sir?’ ‘I know that you know, Major.’ ‘Humour me, sir.’ ‘He’s a spellmaker from R&D.’ ‘To whom does he report, sir?’ ‘To himself, apparently.’ ‘I have it on record, sir, that he reports to Colonel Spruce.’ ‘Yes, I asked him about it. He said he doesn’t. Take it up with him; he knows you’re coming.’ Honey’s eyes flashed. ‘Did you tell him that I was, sir?’ ‘I did.’ ‘Where is he now, sir?’ ‘Still in the Pit, I think.’ ‘Why is he there, sir?’ ‘He’s removing some helmets for us.’ ‘By whose authority, sir?’ ‘Mine,’ said Comet. Honey stared at him. He met her gaze. ‘I will speak to him now, then, sir.’ ‘By all means.’ They waited. Honey did not move. ‘Permission to leave, sir,’ she said. Comet shook his head and sighed. ‘You never make things easy, do you, Major,’ he said. ‘Yes, go on, go. Dismissed.’ She saluted. Honey walked out of the tent and out of the cave and took the fissure that led to the Pit. She reached the opening, showed the sentries her authorisation and entered. She stooped and walked. She emerged from the tunnel and into a vast, lit space. Against one wall were helmeted Earths and Pegasi, chained and collared. In the centre of the cave, two-thirds of a platoon were standing still and casting upon the other wall a translucent dome. Chained to this wall were helmeted Unicorns. One helmeted Unicorn, subdued by four, lay outside the barrier. Over him leaned a pony whose coat was sirocco. His long, shark-black mane covered his face. His horn glowed amber. ‘Now keep him steady,’ gasped the pony. ‘Steady! Ah!’ He grimaced. His horn flashed. ‘Now, now!’ he cried. One soldier pulled and the helmet rose. ‘Uh,’ groaned the Unicorn to whose head it had been attached. The soldiers stepped away. Honey stepped forward, watching him. He tottered to his hooves and felt his snout, his ears, his mane. He closed his eyes and retched. He gasped. ‘Hah!’ said the pony who had removed the helmet. ‘Brilliant, sir!’ exclaimed Lieutenant Mask. He and his soldiers guided the pony to the exit, muttering comforts. The sirocco-coated Unicorn sank to the floor, panting. His eyes found Major Honey’s. They watched each other. ‘So, this appears to be Masterduke,’ muttered Honey. She greeted him. He reciprocated, wiping his face. ‘Congratulations,’ she said. ‘Hah, yes. Yes, thank you. I haven’t done that in years, yet as you saw – positive triumph. So walks free another pony, and Sombra retreats another step.’ ‘Who are you?’ asked Honey. The pony blinked. ‘Major Masterduke, R&D,’ he said. ‘Who are you, if I may?’ he replied. ‘Major Honey, First Intelligence Battalion,’ said Honey. Masterduke paused and rubbed his chin. ‘What can I do for you?’ ‘First, let’s step outside.’ They exited in silence. As soon as Masterduke rose, Honey walked. He trotted after her and fell into step. ‘Who is Solitaire?’ she asked. She watched him. His eyes flicked to hers and his tongue darted across his teeth. ‘You’ve heard of him?’ he said. ‘Who is he?’ ‘You don’t know?’ ‘Who is he?’ she repeated, her face motionless. ‘I don’t know who he is, I’m afraid, although I know who he is said to be,’ said Masterduke. ‘It’s been chaos, Major, since I arrived. Our soldiers babble more than I would have thought.’ They walked to the end of the fissure. Honey stopped. Masterduke stopped. She stared at him. He licked his teeth. ‘What happened on your first night?’ she asked. Masterduke paled. His mouth twitched. He smiled. ‘Don’t you know?’ he said. ‘I thought everyone knew.’ ‘Humour me.’ ‘On my first night I saw him, Major. That’s what happened! I saw Solitaire!’ ‘What did you see?’ ‘I just told you.’ ‘No. You told me you saw Solitaire, and you don’t know who that is. What did you actually see?’ Masterduke paused. ‘A pony. A pony whose magic glowed purple. No, it was not a thrall. It was a Unicorn. He or she cast a spell. He or she stopped five thralls. I was there, right next to them.’ ‘How do you know that the spell stopped them?’ Masterduke’s lip curled. ‘Don’t tell me my craft, Major. I know what spells can do, when they do and how they do.’ ‘I didn’t tell you anything. I asked for how you know.’ ‘Of course. Forgive me.’ ‘Well?’ Masterduke glared. ‘You think I can give you the details? You are not a spellmaker and would not understand. Suffice it to say, however, that my experience equips me to state that the spell was unique in design, quite fantastic. The thralls did not just stop. I stress that. They did not “stop”. They obeyed.’ ‘The pony you saw spoke?’ ‘Perhaps they did not have to speak. I’ve been thinking about it. It intrigues me, you know. That spell – well, if I were to postulate, either it transferred control of the helmets to Solitaire or it affected its targets’ suggestibility. Either case is remarkable. In the former, Solitaire has proven himself at least Sombra’s equal with respect to power in this regard. In the latter, by stimulating in certain ways certain areas of the brain, Solitaire instilled a monomania, a single idea whose influence – so specific – was sufficient to displace the far more general control of the helmets.’ His lip curled. ‘“Cease fire”, for example. The latter case, I must say, is more beautiful. To achieve a power equal to that of Sombra – what a task! Yet unoriginal, a disciple’s efforts. To sabotage his masterwork through a single thought, a single obsession, a single idea… To render it worthless… Make no mistake, Major. Solitaire is the greatest mind beside which I have had the privilege to stand.’ ‘Did the pony you saw speak?’ Masterduke licked his teeth. He shook his head. ‘No,’ he grunted. ‘If this pony wasn’t Solitaire, your genius is someone else.’ ‘But it was Solitaire, Major. Take my word for it. It could have been no one else. Only him. Singular. Legendary.’ ‘Hardly,’ said Honey. ‘No one knows him.’ ‘No one knows him?’ spluttered Masterduke. ‘The regiment talks of little else!’ ‘Is Solitaire a he?’ ‘I don’t know.’ ‘You couldn’t tell?’ ‘No.’ ‘Am I to take it, then, that you are nonetheless convinced that this pony cast a spell, that the spell worked as you described and that this pony was Solitaire?’ ‘Convinced? How lay of you, Major! I make spells. I am never convinced.’ Honey’s eyes flashed. ‘I can see that.’ Masterduke’s mouth wobbled and he rubbed his chin. ‘I have another question,’ said Honey. Masterduke frowned. ‘Why all these questions?’ ‘You chose now to ask me that. Interesting.’ Masterduke’s eye twitched. ‘Why were you in there?’ ‘Where?’ snapped Masterduke. ‘In the Pit.’ ‘You saw! I was removing helmets.’ ‘You are not a liberator. You had no licence to remove that helmet.’ ‘No licence,’ sneered Masterduke. ‘Forgive me, Major, but perhaps the First Intelligence Battalion should retrace its name. I developed liberation! Liberators exist because of me!’ ‘You will not remove any more helmets,’ said Honey. ‘Won’t I! Colonel Comet himself authorised –’ ‘And General Stone will deal with him once Colonel Tango has read my report. Do not enter the Pit again.’ ‘You cannot order me, Major.’ ‘No. I have advised you.’ Masterduke glared at her, licking his teeth. Honey stared at him. ‘I am staying,’ she said. ‘Sooner or later, I may ask you further questions.’ ‘Very well, Major, so long as it doesn’t disrupt my work.’ ‘Who sees your work?’ Masterduke blinked. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘To whom do you report?’ ‘Impertinence! I report to no one! I am not a soldier! And let me tell you now that, if and when we win this war, I will not stand for this culture of hapless servitude, couched in military motley. One totalitarian is another!’ ‘I see.’ ‘I hope so, “Lieutenant” Honey. You’re alive only because of me. Me, my spells and Smoothtooth’s horn. Don’t forget it.’ Honey’s eyes flashed. She stared at Masterduke, who glowered. She took a step toward him. Masterduke’s eye twitched. She took another. He stood, rigid. She raised a hoof. Masterduke’s horn glinted. She placed it across his neck. He flinched. She pulled him close, as close as a lover, close enough to kiss. She opened her mouth. ‘Colonel Tango will be very interested, Major,’ whispered Honey, stressing ‘Major’, ‘to hear that you report to no one.’ She stepped back, turned without another word and strode out of the fissure and into the cave. Masterduke watched her leave. Once she had vanished from sight, he closed his eyes and sighed. He rubbed his chin and licked his teeth. ‘Accursed pony!’ he hissed. ‘Accursed world – insolent, ungrateful!’ He stamped. ‘Nonsense. How little patience I have left for you, Weakness. Die! Die and torment me no longer!’