//------------------------------//
// Chapter VIII 
// Story: Solitaire 
// by Acologic 
//------------------------------//

‘Major Masterduke is Solitaire, isn’t he?’

Starburst swallowed quickly his mouthful of porridge and stared. ‘What?’ he coughed. Ivy blinked at him. 

‘I mean – he must be, mustn’t he? That’s why she left after she summoned him to Captain Meadow’s tent. She’s gone to fetch a warrant.’ Starburst relaxed a little. He shrugged. 

‘Maybe.’ 

‘You don’t think so?’ 

Starburst worked his mouth. ‘I don’t know.’ 

‘Well, I think it’s tosh,’ interrupted Smoothtooth, slurping. ‘“Solitaire” this, “Solitaire” that – I’ve had enough.’ 

‘Butt out, then, sarge,’ said Ivy, grinning. Sweet grunted. Smoothtooth scooped another mouthful from his tin, watching instead the soldiers who had finished breakfast start early-morning duty. Ivy returned to Starburst. ‘She as good as told me it was him! I thought you’d know, being his friend and all!’ 

‘He’s not my friend,’ snapped Starburst. She looked taken aback. 

‘But you’ve been speaking to him.’ 

‘I have,’ admitted Starburst. He paused. Sweet noticed. 

‘I think you know something we don’t,’ he remarked, ‘because you’re not acting normal.’ Starburst’s eyes flicked to his. Sweet’s gaze was steady. Starburst worked his mouth. 

‘We fell out,’ he said simply, paused, then added, ‘over his views about the war. About everything.’ 

‘Views?’ Smoothtooth was interested again. ‘What, brought out some barmy academic thoughts, did he? Come on, then,’ he snorted. ‘Give us a laugh.’ 

‘Not academic,’ said Starburst. ‘I thought he saw things one way –’ He frowned. ‘Well, I didn’t really.’ He stopped. ‘I didn’t really know him.’ He worked his mouth again. ‘Shows you.’ 

‘What?’ grunted Sweet. 

‘Can’t you see?’ chimed Ivy, grinning. She nodded and waved a hoof. ‘Here’s a pony who feels let down! And that’s what I always say – that you never know another pony until you really talk!’ 

‘That’s why you never shut up, is it?’ sniggered Smoothtooth, tossing aside his empty tin. 

‘But that’s what it is, isn’t it?’ Ivy said to Starburst. ‘You realised he wasn’t who you thought he was.’ Starburst looked at her. He nodded. 

‘So, what’d he do, then?’ demanded Smoothtooth. ‘Come on! You’re acting like he took you out back for a touch!’ Smoothtooth’s grin widened. ‘But then he was your teacher, wasn’t he?’ Ivy spluttered with laughter. Sweet was smiling in spite of himself. ‘Bad taste?’ chortled Smoothtooth. ‘Sorry, sorry.’ Starburst said nothing. ‘Well?’ he prompted. 

‘He said he doesn’t care who wins, basically. Sombra, Celestia, us, them, anything – doesn’t matter. All the same to him. He doesn’t care.’ His eyes darkened. ‘He doesn’t care at all.’ 

‘Is that it?’ Smoothtooth shook his head. ‘Boring! I hoped for so much more!’ 

‘Because you don’t care either,’ grunted Sweet, but he was smiling. Smoothtooth reciprocated. 

‘I don’t “care” about the war,’ he chuckled. ‘I care about doing what I want to do. Sadly,’ he said, ‘to do what I want means we have to win the war. So, here we are – winning it,’ he finished, shaking his head. 

‘He didn’t just “not care”,’ added Starburst, working his mouth. ‘It was more than that.’ He paused, eyes firm. ‘A disgust,’ he muttered eventually. ‘Flanks. A hatred, even, of the idea that ponies have things they care about.’ He snorted. ‘Because they didn’t match his.’ 

‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ said Sweet. ‘I’ve always thought he was a pony to avoid.’ Starburst looked at him. ‘I don’t know what it is about those types,’ he went on, ‘but I can sense it. There’s an instability, a fire – something. You can smell it. Steer clear, that’s what I said. To Honey,’ he added. 

‘Didn’t listen, did she?’ snapped Smoothtooth. ‘“Solitaire”, “Solitaire”,’ he said again. 

‘He probably made that up, sarge,’ said Sweet. 

‘Eh?’ 

‘Made it all up,’ said Sweet. ‘Don’t know why.’ 

‘For fun!’ Ivy was nodding. ‘And that’s what you told me, Sweet! You said she’d mentioned “his own gratification”.’ Sweet nodded. 

‘That’s right.’ 

‘But it’s the stopping the thralls that gets me,’ said Smoothtooth, frowning. ‘Did he actually stop them?’ 

‘Maybe that’s more “fun”,’ said Sweet. 

‘But he killed the officers!’ Ivy said. They all turned to Starburst, who nodded. 

‘He did. Flanks. In front of me without a moment’s hesitation.’ He swallowed. ‘I said, “Handle them,” and he did that.’ 

‘Well, lies or not, at least he’s done some good for us,’ said Smoothtooth. ‘The spells, the helmets and the officers. Three good things, prat or not. It’s kept me alive, and I’ll take that any day.’

Starburst’s face darkened. He shifted. ‘I bet he’d love to hear you say that,’ he mumbled. Ivy sighed. 

‘I do hope we’ll find out soon,’ she said, fiddling with her tin. ‘I need some new material.’ 

‘Your wish is my command,’ grunted Sweet. Ivy frowned at him. 

‘Eh?’ 

Sweet nodded. Ivy shrugged. ‘What?’ Sweet nodded again. ‘What?’ 

‘Look.’ 

‘Wha—? Oh!’ 

Major Honey had joined the lines streaming from the station into the cave. She was easy to spot on account of the six red-uniformed soldiers surrounding her, like a bloodstain on white cloth. They marched ominously toward Colonel Comet’s tent. She went inside with two, leaving four, who guarded the flap, preventing entry and drawing stares. Ivy stared. Smoothtooth stared. Starburst stared. 

‘She must be here for Solitaire! With a warrant?’ squeaked Ivy, trembling. 

‘Calm down,’ sniggered Smoothtooth. ‘Bet it’s the Captain.’ Sweet raised an eyebrow. ‘Yeah.’ Smoothtooth smiled. ‘Word got around that she thinks he’s been less than honest in his reporting.’ 

Ivy’s face fell. ‘No, no, it can’t be that!’ 

Soon the flaps were thrown open and out marched Honey. The red-clad squad gathered around her, listening to her speak. Starburst worked his mouth. Then he walked to that of the fissure and toward them. ‘Hey, where d’you think you’re off to?’ called Smoothtooth. Starburst did not change course. 

‘Forgot to tell her something,’ he grunted. 





The fissure they marched Masterduke into was private and deserted. He hadn’t struggled upon announcement of his arrest. Honey had watched him closely; he’d merely given her smirks and stares. ‘Sergeant?’ 

‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Coal. 

‘Stay with me. Everyone else, guard the exits.’ They obeyed at once. The fissure was tall, steep and narrow. No Unicorn could escape without fighting his way out, and the odds – against a squad of trained soldiers, three with horns, three with attack hooves – were long. Honey made a seventh. ‘Now we can talk,’ she said coldly, glaring at Masterduke, who snorted. 

‘Talk? I see you must really be desperate, Major. You leave only to return with trumped-up charges and soldiers to bully me.’ 

‘Hardly,’ said Honey. ‘This –’ she produced a paper, embossed, bearing the stamp of her battalion and Colonel Tango’s signature ‘– is a pardon for any and all violations currently attributed to the accused, made available to me to give to you,’ she said smoothly, ‘on the condition that you provide me today with a full confession and –’ she produced another ‘– sign this to confirm it.’

Masterduke read slowly, carefully. As he read, he snorted. He glared at her. Then he raised the paper to her face and tore it in two. Honey did not so much as blink. ‘You’re going to have to do a lot better than that, Major,’ said Masterduke. 

‘How about charging you with intention to pervert the course of justice?’ 

Masterduke licked his teeth, still smirking. ‘You can charge me with whatever you like – starting the war or stealing your porridge – it doesn’t matter. Your official charge,’ he went on, grinning, ‘is “suspicion” only. As soon as we’re done here, I’m free.’ 

‘Are you?’ 

‘I am.’ 

‘Don’t be so sure.’ 

Masterduke chuckled. ‘It must be frustrating,’ he mused, ‘trying so hard to impress your superiors.’ 

‘Admit to me that you are Solitaire.’ 

‘Trying to intimidate me into believing I’ve done something wrong,’ he snorted, glaring at her. 

‘You have.’ 

‘Oh, have I? Prove it.’ Honey stared. Masterduke grinned. Honey watched him closely. 

‘If you do not sign a confession,’ she said quietly, her eyes boring into his, ‘then I’ll go to Private Starburst instead.’ Masterduke started, shifted, stared. Honey watched him, stiller than stone. ‘I’ll go to Private Starburst,’ she continued, ‘and he’ll say it for you. And you’ll be arrested for far worse than “suspicion”, as you put it. And,’ she added, watching Masterduke’s tongue dart across his teeth, hoof scratch his chin, ‘I can promise you’ll see no kind offer of pardon then. You won’t see anything except the bars of your door and the walls of your cell,’ she finished in a whisper. Masterduke’s gaze darted to Sergeant Coal, whose face hadn’t twitched, then back to Honey, whose eyes were bearing down on him. His face twisted into a smile so tense that veins appeared. Honey watched quietly. 

‘I see,’ he muttered. ‘That’s how it is, is it?’ His voice shook. Honey nodded. 

‘That’s how it is.’ 

‘A confession.’ 

‘A confession,’ repeated Honey. Masterduke snorted. 

‘You arrogant –’ he breathed. ‘I have worked tirelessly, toiled endlessly –’ He struggled to find words. Honey waited, silent. He smiled; his eyes popped. ‘A confession?’ he snorted again. Honey nodded. 

‘Admit it. You created Solitaire and precipitated him. Why did you?’ she added, raising a brow. ‘For gratification?’ 

‘“Gratification”,’ sneered Masterduke. ‘Gratification! Whims! Why else? Why else does a pony do anything? You tell me, Major. You, standing in a uniform, giving and receiving orders – why? You tell me first.’ Honey said nothing. Masterduke shook his head, chuckling. ‘I have done,’ he began, ‘exactly what I wanted. And you owe me for it, you and everyone else. If I hadn’t done as I wished, this war would be over. We’d all be wearing helmets, and I’d be free of your wretched whining about “gratification”!’ 

Honey frowned. ‘Whining?’ 

‘Whining!’ spat Masterduke. ‘“Oh, how could you?”’ he sneered in a mocking voice. ‘“Think of the other ponies!” “Think of the difference you’re making!” “They won’t love you for it, Mast, but they’ll be grateful.” Except they aren’t!’ he hurled at her. ‘You ponies! You steal me from myself! You think you can leave me at a desk to slave away for you, and when I have something to say about it, I’m the one who’s playing up? I’m crossing a line? The “truth” –’ he snorted the word, fixing Honey with a stare ‘– is that I’m better than you. All of you! And what has been my reward? To sit, to work, to make spells – to see nothing in return! Nothing! So, forgive me, “Major Honey”, self-gratifying fool that you are, for doing the same!’ He lapsed into heavy breathing and glared at Honey, who hadn’t moved a muscle, only stared. ‘Except it isn’t the “truth” at all!’ He exploded again, started to laugh. His sniggers devolved into cackling. ‘It’s “the nonsense”! The utter nonsense of it all! I am free to do as I wish, yet do I take it? No!’ he shouted. ‘No! No! Because, whatever I am – if I am anything – I am a fool! A weak fool!’ There was a long pause. Coal had glanced twice at Honey. Both times she had held up a hoof. She watched Masterduke. 

‘You’ve lost me,’ she said. He snorted with laughter. 

‘Of course I have!’ he snapped. ‘Soldiers,’ he sneered. ‘Empty heads with emptier lives, forced to fight for nothing, all according to their betters’ whims.’ 

‘I have never fought for nothing.’ 

‘Indeed! You fight for grand Celestia against the mighty Sombra! What fun! What lies! How did you join the army, Major? Were you drafted?’ 

‘I was.’ 

‘So! And have you enjoyed it?’ 

Honey watched him. She waited. Masterduke waited for her. ‘No,’ she said eventually. ‘I haven’t.’ 

‘Of course you haven’t. What fulfils you? Fighting for a cause that claimed you? It’s brought you nothing, yet you do it still. You have no whim to do it, yet you bow like a cripple and let the tide sweep you away.’ 

Honey’s lip twitched. ‘Just like you.’ 

‘What?’ snapped Masterduke. 

‘You told me you are a weak fool who’s been mistreated.’ 

‘Well,’ he said, grinning. ‘Quite.’ 

‘Unlike you, by the sound of it,’ continued Honey, ‘I’ve served because it’s my duty.’ 

‘Well, well, look at you! “Your duty”,’ sneered Masterduke. 

‘Except you haven’t been mistreated at all,’ added Honey. ‘You’ve done “exactly as you wanted”.’ Masterduke scowled. 

‘There’s a context,’ he hissed. ‘No matter, for one way or another we return always to the eternal problem, the agonising paradox of knowledge! “Your duty” – prove it! Tell me now!’ 

Honey blinked once. ‘What are you asking?’ 

‘Prove that it’s your duty.’ 

‘I can’t prove it. I think it.’ 

‘Prove that you think it, then!’ 

‘How? Either you take my word for it or you don’t.’ 

‘Then prove it to yourself!’ 

‘I have. I thought it.’ 

‘No!’ cried Masterduke, grinning, pacing on the spot, licking his teeth. ‘You think that you thought it! You think that you think that you thought it! Once again, the horrible possibility of it all! You’re standing on rock – yes or no!’ 

‘I am not here to debate philosophy.’ 

‘Well, how convenient! The arrogance! You presume to tell me what I have and haven’t done wrong, yet you have no concept of anything! “Confess”,’ he sneered. ‘You want me to confess? You’re standing on rock – yes or no!’ 

‘Yes.’ 

‘Prove it.’ 

‘I can see it. I can feel it.’ 

‘Not good enough.’ 

‘Sergeant?’ 

‘Ma’am.’ 

‘Can you see that?’ 

‘Yes, ma’am.’ 

‘Can you feel that?’ 

‘I can, ma’am.’ 

‘Thank you.’ She turned to Masterduke. ‘Sergeant Coal can feel it too.’ 

‘Only if you take for granted that your senses haven’t lied!’ snarled Masterduke. ‘You sickening dogmatists! All of you! Swallowed whole by the lies of the world, the illusions! The “truth”, if ever there was a statement that deserves the term, is that you do not know, and you cannot know! None of us! All of us, we stumble around blindly, acting for reasons we cannot know and do not understand. That statement in itself is subject to a lack of proof! So is this one! The agony! The endlessness! Circles or infinity! Or dogmatists like you, who think they have it all figured out. You ponies,’ he growled, shuddering. ‘The worst kind!’ 

‘This won’t save you,’ said Honey. ‘Confess, and you’ll have your pardon.’ 

‘I don’t care about your stupid pardon!’ snarled Mastrduke, voice breaking, spit flying. ‘To Tartarus with it! Stuff it down what you think is your throat! You have no appreciation of the scale! No idea what you’re doing!’ 

‘I know,’ said Honey. 

‘Then tell me!’ hurled Masterduke. ‘Enlighten me!’ 

‘Since you ask,’ said Honey. ‘I think you’re right. Ultimately, we don’t know. Where does that leave us? Each of us behaves chaotically, independently?’ 

‘Yes!’ choked Masterduke, slapping the stone, grinning broadly. ‘At last you begin to understand! Chaotically! Independently! Freely! Whatever whim I wish! Because none of it I can prove to be true!’ 

‘It doesn’t have to be proven true,’ said Honey. 

‘Of course it does.’ 

‘No, it doesn’t, and it can’t be anyway, as you said.’ 

‘So, where now?’ demanded Masterduke. Honey watched him. 

‘We operate on what appears –’ 

‘No,’ muttered Masterduke. 

‘– to be true –’ 

‘No.’ He was shaking his head. 

‘– as best we can,’ she finished. ‘And what appears to be true is that you are Solitaire, and you demand that I prove it while simultaneously espousing our inability to prove anything.’ Masterduke giggled. ‘You are Solitaire; say it,’ said Honey. Masterduke was shaking, wiping his forehead, rubbing his chin. ‘Say it,’ said Honey again. ‘You will be pardoned.’ 

‘Say that word again,’ hissed Masterduke, gritting his teeth, wiping spit from his lips. ‘I – don’t – care –’ 

‘You are Solitaire,’ said Honey. ‘It’s clear to me. You have explained adequately the reasoning behind all of your behaviour. Your arrogance,’ she added, watching him as she said the word. Masterduke bristled. ‘Your overwhelming selfishness. Safely out of harm’s way, your mind has been able to wander to these places. You are quite happy to let other ponies die for you. You gave them the tools to do it, but they’re the ponies actually doing it. Without them, neither you nor Solitaire –’ she looked him in the eye ‘– mean anything.’ 

‘Out of harm’s way?’ he heaved, voice crawling. ‘I came here! I stopped the thralls! I killed the officers! Me! Me! Me and no one else!’ His lank mane swung from side to side, eyes popping, straining, red with blood. 

‘Yes, you did,’ said Honey, breathless. ‘You stopped them with your spell. You are Solitaire,’ she repeated. ‘Say it.’ 

‘I am,’ giggled Masterduke, a hoof on his horn, grinning, swaying. Honey watched him. 

‘You are,’ she prompted. ‘You are Solitaire.’ 

‘Yes.’ Masterduke smiled. He stopped. He beamed at her. ‘I am. I am Solitaire. Thank you.’ 

‘Sergeant Coal, we’ll take him with us.’ 

‘Yes, ma’am.’ 

Honey sighed. She closed her eyes briefly and smiled. There was a flash and a whistle. She blinked. She looked at her hooves. They were yards away, on the rock. Blood oozed from stumps. Her head rolled.