//------------------------------// // Out of Time Part 3 // Story: Out of Place // by Dan_s Comments //------------------------------// Out of Place - Out of Time Part 3 DISCLAIMER: My Little Pony is the property of Hasbro, Inc. Burning Bridges (Kelly's Heroes) Mike Curb Congregation Songwriter: Paul Scott Years have passed and I keep thinking, what a fool I've been. I look back into the past and think of way back then. I know that I lost everything I thought that I could win. I guess I should have listened to my friends. All the burning bridges that are falling after me. All the lonely feelings and the burning memories. Everyone I left behind each time I closed the door. Burning bridges lost forevermore. Burning bridges lost forevermore         The crowd is far larger than anything I expected. There can't be this many displeased with Celestia's rule, I think as I look at the faces, Of course this is more like a concert than a political rally. I just hope it doesn't turn into a Nuremberg rally.         Cries of 'Luna nobis providet' and 'Luna nos custodit' shake the air. (provides us the moon, the moon keeps us).         It's like a summoning spell, if they shout it loud enough, Luna will appear.         The crowd noise fades to nothing so suddenly the sound of the flags flapping in the breeze stands out like thunder. Luna stands on a small rise at the end of the field. She looks all the world like a Princess in control, rather than as nervous as she said she was.         I bet she uses the Royal Canterlot voice, when she could whisper and this crowd would hear it, I think as I note the rapt expressions, the worshipful looks, and the feeling of expectation from each and every person here.         "De pomis fructuum solis ac luna," she says in a normal tone of voice, yet it carries across the crowd, starting little murmurs among them.         And for the precious fruits brought forth by the sun, and for the precious things put forth by the moon, I think, Put the whole thing together, not a bad motto.         "Citizens," she thunders to the crowd, even a hundred yards away, the din is still unpleasant. "Beloved ponies of Equestria, we are glad you are here. We are overjoyed you seek to serve Equestria better, with your talents, with your love, and with your loyalty."         The cheers are as powerful as the silence had been profound. It is chaotic and raucous. Some shout her name, some stamp their hooves, and some shout slogans. Luna and I alone are silent.         "My dear sister has been wrong," Luna thunders, "We ask that, for us, you forgive her. Now, that we are back, we can change things that should have been corrected centuries ago. With your voices, with our understanding, we, all of us, can convince her that we are not all children to be coddled, that we all desire and deserve to be treated as adults. That though she deserves respect, and is a goddess. None of us are infallible. And the answer for one, is not the answer for all."         More thunderous hoof stamps, and shouts of 'freedom!' Someone takes up the chant of 'we will forgive!' and more and more voices join the chant as Luna smiles on them.         I can see how she might have formed a rebellion, and that she needs the adoration of the crowd, I think as I watch her bask in this outpouring of raw emotion. Some of the ponies are more controlled than others, but there isn't a single one that isn't a true believer.         I pick out the two leaders I'll need to speak with. They are about 50 yards apart, surrounded by shoals of their supporters. Each one glances at the other, but their followers are throwing a whole series of looks my way. Their leaders aren't sure, but they do know Luna herself brought me. So am I a convert, or am I undecided? They haven't really decided which.         Luna speaks on themes which appeal to ponies, except she throws in bits indicating that they shouldn't blame Celestia for their predicament. "You all know what it means to be alone. We went, a little mad. You will all be fortunate to never have to live for a moment under what was our lives as we grew up. Then our sister was alone, and she kept doing what was right at that time. To give her ponies stability. But those days are not even legends now, and some changes are in order. But we will make those changes, and make them orderly. She will hear our voices, she will see our resolve, and she will not be alone, and she will see we are ready for change. But the changes we desire!"         The crowd takes up the chant of 'our changes!', washing the area with noise as Luna smiles and nods.         All sugar and sizzle, I guess the steak comes in individual meetings, I think.         "You, our brave ponies, stand here facing a thousand years of 'it isn't broken don't fix it.' But it is worn out, it is time to change. If the only reason is 'we've always done it that way', then it is time to look and see if there is a better way, or understand there are deeper reasons. Some of you quietly spread the word. Some of you research why things are the way they are. Some of you quietly toil, knowing things are going to change." Now Luna speaks with real emotion, "We will not be shackled by any tyrant. We will not descend into madness of stultifying order, or madness of change for its own sake! We will lift up all ponies, not pick and choose. We will not cast them down on a whim."         My attention focuses as I realize, She's talking about Discord, but refuses to mention him. But I guess her memories are still somewhat fresh of that villain. She already said that few if any remember him. Did Celestia tell her he's coming? Did she warn Luna of that? And if so, how much? I want to ask, but keep watching the crowd, and their enthralled expressions.         "Together!" Luna thunders.         "Together!" the crowd bellows back and stamps their hooves, "Together! Together! Together!"         Luna steps down from the hillock, and another pony ascends. He talks about individual posters to be made, areas to blanket. All the nuts and bolts of a Velvet Revolution, run to 'win the hearts and minds' and more importantly, to sway Celestia, as much as show her their resolve.         "What do you think?" a massive stallion in royal white, sporting two black eyes, a ragged mane and tail of royal blue, and a patchwork of bruises. The bruises were fading to yellow in splotches.         I don't want to think about what he got into a fight with, I think, and notice the entourage following the stallion. They know who I am, and they are not happy about it.         The stallion tosses his head in an emphatic nod. "Sneaking into the Princess' private quarters was pretty stupid," the stallion says, "And I certainly got what I deserved. And got off a lot more gently that I expected."         "You were guilty, Sunny Days, of doing exactly what many of these ponies accuse Princess Celestia of."         The stallion shies at that, and my cold tone. Murmurs from the others are undecided.         "How did it feel to be the tyrant, and have the revolt be less than peaceful?" I ask.         "How was I the tyrant?" Sunny Days asks, "I'm just a unicorn."         "No place you can be yourself. Fearful that people are watching at all times. Forcing someone to be their public self at all times." I turn to the crowd. "All of you have secrets you wouldn't want everyone in town or at work talking about. That you're an accountant who paints on the weekend, and are terrible but getting better. That you're a gray hair who still frolics with your spouse. That you are a banker, who loves making fancy cupcakes. Little spaces, little dreams, but yours' and no one elses'." I turn back to Sunny Days. "And you insist on knowing about and ridiculing everything her Highness does. She likes cakes. She likes teasing. She indulges her pet when it teases people. Blemishes to a porcelain character, but touches everypony shares. Places we do not want everypony to know about and comment on. But you, tyrant, denied her even that. That wasn't a secret meeting of government officials." I pointedly look around the group. "But a mare simply wanting a few minutes, or hours of privacy with her own thoughts. And if you claim her intentions are the same as the results of her actions, then you'd better take a sword to most of the ponies around you, because I would bet they each have had bad intentions they'd never act on."         Sunny Days bowS his head. "I can see why her Solarity keeps you around. Are you always so straightforward with her?"         "She doesn't usually require pounding her head on a marble floor to see she's been in the wrong. I won't go into details, but remember what her Nightjesty alluded to, that she and her sister grew up in a world that makes this one look like a golden-age of undreamt of prosperity, stability and safety. You and others have desired stability and it's attendant safety, that tomorrow be much like today, which was much like yesterday. Your movement is as much to give her Majesty permission to change, as it is giving it a direction to change."         "Well said, lad," Brown Chief says as he and a few of his coterie approach. In the distance, Princess Luna is speaking with Moon City. "Her Nightjesty said you had something to tell me. Having Celestia's latest," the earth pony pauses as I glare at him. "Protege, so eager to speak with me, and her Nightjesty bringing you here to say. I don't know if I should be honored or worried."         "I just needed to have a little chat with you," I tell him, "In private."         He looks around. "We're all friends here."         "You remember I was lecturing Sunny Days about leaving a few shadows for ponies to be ponies in. I think this is one of those things that would take a good deal more explaining than a few column inches in the paper would give."         He became suspicious. "Over there." He looks at Sunny Days. "Anything I should be worried about."         "Don't make him angry," the huge stallion warns, "And he's very sensitive about Celestia being accused of 'colt-cuddling' when she was spending time helping Luna through her recovery."         The stallion gulped and nodded, then we walk to a small building. Inside, he instantly drops all pretense of politeness. "I don't like games."         "Then you should know you have someone rooting for you to take over the mission. Imperial Intelligence," I tell him, "The Fraud Squad, the Bank of Equestria, and others will provide them with more than enough. Need I go on?"         "It was all legal, and all looked into, by those. A pony can get out of investments any time he likes."         "It's the fact you didn't warn any of your partners, that is the most damning," I tell him, "Leading the herd from a sudden grass fire is one thing, leaving them to burn is something else."         He starts to pace, for all the confines of the small building allow. "I did warn them," he says in a small voice. Then stops to confront me. "How the hay was I supposed to explain that we should get out because of some sense even I don't understand. I'm not a unicorn to have magic. But it's steered me in and out of the rapids, let me build up a very substantial portfolio, and warned me when to run from that grass fire," he says angrily, "Like it's warning me to run right now. So Intel thinks I'm a good candidate, cause they can cast me and the whole movement down with a sneeze? Well I'm not supporting Moon City." He turns sideways. "I haven't got a bit mark on my flank, just two bricks and a bit of mortar. I'm good at what I do, and whatever I do. Cutie-mark, breed not withstanding," he says, sounding defeated.         "Let's just say that I'm here to talk to Moon City about hard to explain shadows as well."         "I'm not supporting you either."         "No one need know there isn't a 'top spot'. No one in your faction would go to Moon City before seeing you anyway. Besides, I'm a Federalist at heart. Let each community choose how they are going to run themselves. Ponies have hooves, if they don't like a place, they can vote with them and walk away."         "Thanks," he says gruffly as he leaves.         One down, one to go, I think.         Moon City could barely restrain himself from stamping his hooves in frustration. Of all the insufferable things! Celestia's Intelligence deciding I'm 'harmless', I never thought that would be a damning phrase.         "How did you get this?" he asked the colt who seemed to be able to stand his ground despite the stallion's angry posture.         "The one who provided me this information very much wants to see your movement succeed. But is aware how easily it can be discredited," he said calmly.         "My wife would laugh at this 'scandal', and our neighbors' reactions," he assured the colt.         No need to tell him why, if Luna is correct, Celestia is after his energy and drive, same as Twilight. No colt-cuddling involved, he thought.         "And about the movement you're part of?" the colt asked.         "Damn you and your questions," he said without heat, "Yes, they would have a field day with that." He turned to the colt. "How did you find out? I just want to know, so when Brown Chief is stampeding us over a cliff, I know who warned I was to be the Judas goat."         "You think Brown Chief is going to get the leadership?" the colt asked a little too innocently, "I thought her Highness held that position."         "You know very well what I mean, but what do you mean? You had the same conversation with Brown?" he asked.         "Shadows, remember."         "That uptight, stick-in-the-mud, oughta-be blank-flank?!" he exclaimed in shock.         "You might be stone bruised in your forehoof, he might have a pebble caught in a rear shoe, but you both limp just the same," the colt said calmly, as if from years and hard-won wisdom belying his youth. He also ignored the 'blank-flank' comment. "Leave the 'leadership' open. Let people think her Highness has the reins, as it were. Having crazy subordinates is very 'in' this year. Celestia's knights are all a bit 'off', but they take on Nightmare Moon and dragons, by themselves. Having two, diligent but flawed supporters raises her image: that despite your flaws, Luna loves and trusts you."         "I think you might be good at the job."         The colt shook his head. "I have absolutely no ambitions in that direction. But if my colleagues found me to be the best pony for the job, they could prevail upon me to serve Equestria to the best of my abilities."         "Drop the 'might'," Moon City said and grinned, "Someday I want to find out who wanted me warned."         "After the Magna Carta and the Bill of Rights have Celestia and Luna's hoof-prints on them, I'll tell you and Brown Chief. I can guarantee, you won't believe it."         "You make it sound like Celestia herself is looking out for us."         He laughed at that bizarre thought.         "Trouble lies heavy upon thy brow," her Nightjesty says.         Again the guards are back, and I'm walking between their Highnesses. "I was never a very political animal, but they just folded far too easily," I tell the pair.         "You don't understand ponies," Celestia says, and nuzzles me.         I admit that feels good, I think and compare it to human activity.         "I don't get how they can walk away from the position of power, and let the scandals break."         "You haven't seen the teasing that a blank-flank gets. The 'jack-of-all-trades' your kind admires, is an object of uncertainty and some dread, if they aren't pitied. You have your position attracting comments, and your accomplishments deflecting them, so the complaints about you aren't centered on your cutie-mark."         "I heard the teasing, and understand the implications," I tell them, "I just don't get into the mindset of the herd. I was too independent, as a human as well."         "Then we are fortunate to have you," Luna admits.         I just don't want to think about the nightmares I'm going to have tonight about this, I consider, I guess my dreams are beyond Luna's reach.         I jump out of the bed into darkness. The moonlight illuminates the far walls of the courtyard, but little is reflected back in through the windows. I stand and listen, hearing only the clink of cooling stone, the occasional footsteps of Night Court functionaries passing through the hall outside, and, and, and silence. No entity bursts out of the now vacant bed. The shadows don't detach and come to smother me. The sun doesn't pop over the horizon and burn me to ashes as I claw at the door to escape. None of the bad things that I woke from, only to find myself in another dream happen. I stand for several minutes, looking, listening, scenting and waiting for some clue that this isn't another dream.         As the sheer normality of the surroundings drives home the point, I go to the bathroom. For an instant, I'm frightened to open the door. I'm frightened of what might be in there, I'm frightened of what might have replaced the door, and I'm frightened that there won't be anything on the other side.         I managed to get the door open, and get inside without slamming it behind me. The brighter light and the odd coloring actually soothe me. The nightmares never came in here, I remember, Of course I never made it this far, I always ran for the other door.         With the knowledge that the toilet might jump up and bite me someplace tender, I relieve myself, then wash up. The mirror shows a pony who had seen better days. "At least I should have been drunk three days to look like that," I say to my reflection, who does not jump out of the mirror with a knife, which is good, or a hairbrush, manicure set, and curry comb, which while weird, would have been welcome.         I guess that's my trouble with Discord. All catastrophe, but no eucatastrophe. Nothing good and wonderful, nothing joyous and inexplicable. If he'd stopped with the chocolate milk rain for a few days, he would have had something. Nope, straight to ponies thinking they're dogs forever, delusions and lies that hurt ponies. Has to be a horrorfest, I think as I wipe off my face.         The room has been cleared of all the papers. They are neatly stacked in a cabinet. The lathe and mill are there, along with an anvil and a small brazier. All powered by magical sources, and all solid, steady and real. None were present in the dreams. The little grabber is in its rack, and ready to show to investors. Now that I know Brown Chief's 'hidden talent' I should talk to him about it, I think, and look out the window, Yeah, fly out there in a Diane, and ask him about how 'crazy' this gizmo is to invest in.         I lie down on the floor, enjoying the cool, hard stone under my belly. When is the Gala? That's the first sign. That's when I really start living on borrowed time, I wonder, And what's after? I don't remember much after that episode, and Twilight going crazy in the aftermath. So what do I do? I lie there and think for a while. Lots of ideas and improvements for the inventions form in my head, but no new ideas for living.         Soarin' looks at me, in positive terror. "I kinda broke it," he admits, "Please no oranges!" he pleads from his knees.         "You really need to just learn to ask. That, and take more lessons from Ms. Pie," I say as gently as I can, "Take me to it." Several of the other Wonderbolts look positively sheepish as we walk to the hanger where the recently completed 'quadra-Diane' is/was housed.         It's good they're on edge today. Princess Luna has a 'surprise' for us, and considering she's Celestia's sister, I can bet how that surprise is going to go down.         The group waiting for us at the hanger is a surprise for everyone.         "Amethyst Crown?" Fleetfoot asks the charcoal-gray, sunglasses-wearing pegasus stallion who looks like he'd just stepped out of a recruiting poster.         "It's Tuxedo Stallion now, since I joined her Nightjesty's service," the dark pegasus says, although enough white peeps out of the uniform you could imagine he was wearing a tuxedo.         "You've met Topaz Breeze, Storm Diamond, and Jubilee Rider," the pegasus introduces three mares, all with the same darkened coloration, and sunglasses.         "Let me guess," I say, "The Shadowbolts."         Tuxedo stares at me in confusion. "Good guess, and accurate," he says, then looks over at a salt-and-pepper maned, iridescent-gray pegasus stallion who regards all of the group with sternness.         "S - S - Shadow Pearl!" Soarin' exclaims, "H- h - how are you doing?" Soarin remembers himself, he straightens up and salutes, "Sir!"         "I'm here to see to it that you all start workin' together. The Princesses, please note the plural, are concerned that the Wonderbolts might have a problem with the Shadowbolts, until their roles are properly spelled out," the stallion says in a vaguely bored tone, as if he expects childlike behavior from the ponies before him, and will have to make an example of one.         "Sir, should I leave?" I ask politely, "I have some equipment to check on, and I am not aware of being part of either team."         "Your equipment is the reason we're all here Mr. McHorsefly, and is of glowing interest to me, and the Shadowbolts. I can think of no better place to discuss the situation, than in that hanger, where the rest of the Wonderbolts have already been assembled."         Having received all but an order to lead the way, I do so. I ignore Soarin's worried muttering about having 'broke it'. The rest of the Wonderbolts, Glory Bell and all of my guard are there, and waiting.         "Fans won't turn," Glory says without preamble, and glares at Soarin'.         Spitfire is the only member of the entire group who looks pleased. "Captain, for a stallion who said he was through with flying, you're a welcome sight."         " 'Through with flyin' for fun' was the exact quote," Shadow Pearl says and salutes Spitfire, who returns one of equal perfection, "Raisin' a pack of colts, didn't have time to raise you colts too."         Then the two hug like the old friends they are. "I'm glad we're the same rank, I always wanted to do that."         "Technically we aren't in the same chain of command anymore," Shadow Pearl says and breaks off the hug, "And what's this about the centerpiece being broken?"         "Not broken, sabotaged," I say, "By me." I flip open the cover to the transmission, spin one of the gears, and slip a pin the size of a human pinkie back into place. Once that's locked, I put a hoof on the pedal and the small movement takes all the slop out of the drive train until the four large fan blades move ever so slightly.         "But, why?" Soarin' asks, "Don't you trust us?"         "He trusted you to do exactly what you did," Shadow Pearl says, "You always were too interested in toys."         Soarin' takes the ribbing from the others in stride.         "Forgive me for jumping ahead," I say, "But all of you have a history, even Glory seems to know who you all are, but I haven't the foggiest."         "Barnum," Glory says, "Shadow Pearl was the captain of the Wonderbolts."         "Still is," Spitfire says.         "He developed a lot of their more complex maneuvers, and handled the training regimen. They wouldn't be half the team they are today, if not for his innovations."         So not a stick up the back martinet, I realize, An innovator, just a by-the-book one.         "The rest of us," Tuxedo Stallion says, "Either washed out, or turned down a chance to fly for the crowds."         "I didn't 'wash out'," says Jubilee Rider, a mare who looked like a charcoal bodied Rainbow Dash, although her mane was the three secondary colors only.         "You wanted to be the soloist on a team," Shadow Pearl says, "Now you have that chance."         "I can't imagine that night-flying would be a popular spectator event," I say.         Chuckles from the Shadowbolts, especially Tuxedo Stallion. "I didn't want to fly, because I wanted to do something with my flying."         "The Wonderbolts do, do something. We inspire thousands every year." Spitfire says heatedly, her ears flat against her skull. Tuxedo responds with a knowing sneer.         "The Shadowbolts' primary mission, will be search and rescue," Shadow Pearl injects, before the argument can come to blows, "Our primary problem has always been heavy lift. A pegasus might carry a child, but not a full-grown adult. A flying truss can make a team carry the weight, but it's difficult to maneuver in broken terrain, and again: what do you carry? We could recruit every pegasus doctor, but that still means supplies are limited to what one pegasus can carry."         "But with a team of Dianes, you can let them carry the supplies, while the Wonderbolts, and Jubilee scout," I say, "Then the Shadowbolts carry out the close-in work."         Shadow Pearl smiles. "Pretty close. We'll work out who does what, but you're right that the Wonderbolts will be better at what they're best at: fancy flying, and the new Shadowbolts will do the workpony-like job of controlled flying. The flying truss, plus that pylon turn open up new possibilities. Possibilities the Princesses strongly urge us to look into."         The group nods. There's still tension between Spitfire and Tuxie, but Shadow Pearl glances at both and they simmer down.         "Good. Now, I want a check flight on that thing and to learn to control it," Shadow Pearl says.         "As long as the check flight doesn't exceed about a hoof-width off the ground. This is all new, no one has ever flown one of these before," I admit.         "Then we'll be the first to find out," Shadow Pearl says.         I point at Glory, who immediately snaps back her planned protest. "She's your pilot, you're the copilot. I'm just the flight engineer."         "Three?" Shadow Pearl asks.         "Fully loaded, this quadra-Diane should be able to pick up two full-grown ponies above and beyond the flight crew of three," I reply, "For short hops of a few miles. If they have to travel say here to Ponyville without stopping, it's less."         "Good enough."         Why don't you just pat me on the head? I think of Shadow Pearl's tone.         "The first flight isn't a complete disaster," I say from where I'd dropped a moment earlier. A quick survey shows that ponies are more durable then their Earthly counterparts. I.e., none of the three of us is plastered all over the landscape.         "I'd like your definition of a failure," Shadow Pearl asks as he sits up from where he was thrown.         "Any landing you can walk away from is a good one," I tell the former Wonderbolt as I walk over to where the quadra-Diane sits, and Glory hangs onto the controls with an iron grip, "Having the bird in one piece, is a special bonus."         "I think the pilot's seat needs replacement," Glory says as she slowly releases her grip on the control stick, " 'Cause I'm not sitting on it until it is."         "How soon can we be up and ready for another go?" Shadow Pearl asks as the rest of the team rushes over to where the bird sits, the rotors spinning down.         "Replacing the seat will take about 20 minutes, but I want to do a full structural and control damage check. It'll also let our pilot get a bath, and hose off the frame."         Spitfire and Claire are guiding a still-shaken Glory away from the others.         "Can you teach us that maneuver?" one of the younger Wonderbolts asks, "It looked really cool, until you let go."         "If I could decide which of the three of you said that - " Pearl growls.         "Hit the one in the middle," Fleetfoot suggests, "And you are getting a lie down as well. Your brain will work fine while the doc checks out that your structure and control system are all working, both of you."         "If it gets me out of carrying this to the shop, or the tool boxes out here, I'm all for it," I suggest and let Fleetfoot and Soarin' guide me towards a very worried-looking, medical pony. Blaze and Tuxie are doing the same for Shadow Pearl.         I see the smiles between those two, I think, proving I'm not too far gone, I think somebody followed somebody else to the Wonderbolts, then couldn't hack it.         "There it is." Barnum held the small piece of metal up for Pearl to see. "The shear pin didn't exactly shear completely, but it jammed the drive train to one of the rotors. That's why we went into a flat spin."         "Is there a way we can start up testing today?" Pearl asked.         "I can replace this pin, but the gears that chewed on it, that's a few hours work to replace them. If I had replacements. I'd also like to understand why it sheared at such low speeds. It's meant to keep someone from getting the rotors going so fast that they break."         "Don't fly without shear pins," Peal said, "Wouldn't a governor be better?"         "What soldier ever let a governor live, when there was speed to be had?" Barnum asked.         Pearl nodded. Really smart kid, the old flier thought.         "So are we clear for ground tests, pull the other pins and let the drive shafts rotate. At least we can see how the controls operate. And let Glory get a bit more settled as the pilot."         "We can try that, but all it will do is let you see what the controls do to tilt the rotors, not how they'll affect it in flight."         "For some of us, that will be a start," Pearl said, thinking of at least three of the current Wonderbolts, and two of the Shadowbolts. "What is that?" Pearl asked of a small box with a painted orb inside attached to the control panel. He hadn't been able to ask before the incident.         "An artificial horizon," Barnum said, "It indicates your actual attitude, rather than what your senses tell you. With that, a gyrocompass, and good charts, you could fly across the open sea in a pitch black night."         Pearl stared at Barnum as if he'd turned into Nightmare Moon. Barnum smiled at the stunned, old pegasus.         "Now do you understand? With good instruments, a map and a stop watch, a pilot could fly Ghastly Gorge in a flier with no windows."         "I think I'm going to go outside and be terrified," Pearl said.         "Welcome to aircraft design," Barnum said.         Pearl walked out of the hanger. Lieutenant Solitude and Sergeant Mile Stone just happened to be between Topaz Breeze and Fleetfoot. Spitfire and Tuxedo Stallion were at least being civil to one another, although Claire and Soarin's close proximity may have had something to do with it.         "He should have it useable in a few minutes," Pearl told them, "Not for flying, but for ground testing. Spitfire, Blaze, Tuxedo Stallion, Storm Diamond, Glory Bell, and Lieutenant Solitude, you'll be cycling through training with the machine. It won't be flight capable, so don't worry."         The Lieutenant looked worried. "Sir, I wasn't briefed on getting, flight training."         "How are you going to guard him, if you stay on the ground?"         "I'm afraid of heights, sir," the Lieutenant answered.         "It can't fly, and if something goes wrong in the air, you have to know what to do," Pearl replied. The mare's fear did not subside.         "That's it," I say as I horn the sheer pin to Glory. I look at the tools scattered on the desk in my room and consider what I'll need to finish the gears.         "That's nice," she says, "What am I looking at?"         "The fruits of a too-hasty design, and a few assumptions that proved untrue. There's enough slop in the shaft that the sheer pin was acting as a universal joint, so the load exceeded what the pin was designed for, and it did more than it was supposed to do. It's supposed to fix it so only part of the force goes to the rotor, not bring the assembly to a sudden stop," I tell her, "If it had happened in the air, or with a less steady pony at the controls, it might have gotten very interesting."         "Define 'interesting'."         "Sir Bell, I'm deeply sorry, here's a coffee cup full of all the bits we could find," I reply.         "You are not making me happier about our second flight," she responds, "So do we go with solid shafts, install a universal joint there, and a sheer pin near the fan assembly, or go without the pins entirely?" she asks as she walks away from the table and among the bedsteads with the designs pasted up on them.         "Don't know," I tell her, then glance out the window, "I think that's a question for tomorrow. With the sun down, it's time for some of us to get some sleep."         She walks up behind me. "Aren't you slighting Princess Luna, not walking out under her night sky?"         "To tell the truth, the sun doesn't hold any real fascination for me either. But I can understand why Luna feels the way she does. Most ponies are not nocturnal, and too many predators are. With time comes astronomy, and night clubs, but I'm an early riser. I look at her night as it ends, not from beginning to middle."         "Poetic way to put it." She glances over at Claire, asleep on another of the beds. Brushcut standing guard inside the room. "I think she has the right idea," Glory says as she floats another bed over, so Claire is between where she'll sleep and where I will. "Keeps the gossip down," she tells me, but gives me a peck on the cheek anyway.         I ignore Brushcut's raised eyebrows and settle myself into my own bunk.         The morning has us out on the Wonderbolts' practice field, the new gears going into the transmission. Many of the mechanics who set up the practice fields are watching the change out. Pinkie's gizmo is making the need for four hands to do some jobs irrelevant. Glory installs a double-cardan type universal joints to each drive shaft. It's midafternoon when the vehicle is ready for another attempt. The mechanics have tethered the machine to the ground.         "I am not lifting more than against the tethers," Glory says, "But I will run the controls."         Spitfire is with her, and Jubilee as 'flight engineer'. The rest of us watch, and those of us with horns get ready to restrain the quadra-Diane should it get loose.         Several fancily-dressed civilians have wandered past the barriers and are approaching the flight line. I move off to intercept them. Mile Stone, Tuxedo and Soarin' move up to support me. "Excuse me, I'm afraid that I must insist that you take your place behind the barriers. They were set up for your safety."         Several of the people nod and turn back, but there's always one. "Do you know who I am?" the unicorn in the polo shirt and tied sweater asks.         If he isn't a preppy stereotype, I think vaguely.         "No, sir, and if you stay here, you'd better tell me. Because if that machine breaks loose and crashes over here, we'll need a medium to discover who you were. Dental records only help so much."         "Dental records?" the preppy whines.         "Yes sir," I say enthusiastically, "Big, fast-whirling blades, restaurants use the same principle to fast chop their garnishes. Once a pony is reduced to cubes less than a bit width, it becomes very difficult to get any identifying factors, and if you're mixed in with your lovely, minced companion, we won't be able to tell who is whom."         "Perhaps behind the barrier is safer?" the mare with him asks, "Are any of the barriers more . . . solid than those ropes?"         "Ma'am, a hoof-width of concrete might not stop it. It travels in a fairly straight line, just run at right-angles and you should be fine."         The mare drags her brain-fried stallion away behind the barriers. Brown Chief and Moon City have also arrived to watch the test. They automatically stay behind the barriers. On a balcony at the castle I can see the flash of white that can only be Celestia.         "Not nice," Mile Stone says approvingly, "But very effective."         Glory and Spitfire are concentrating on their jobs. Jubilee is looking rather uncertain. Then they begin pedaling. The quadra-Diane raises about a foot into the air. The tethers strain but remain solidly in the ground. Glory moves through the various controls, making the machine dip and twist as the four rotors change their rotational speeds or directions. The crowd 'oo's and 'ah's a bit, but the test is not that momentous. Spitfire occasionally takes the controls and duplicates Glory's maneuvers. After several minutes, they land it back safely, and Jubilee takes Spitfire's position, while Spitfire moves to the back. Jubilee is clearly not the natural flier Spitfire is, or as skilled a pilot. But with Glory backing her moves, nothing untoward happens.         The quadra-Diane settles back down, and the two mares climb off. Blaze and Storm take their places, and the quadra-Diane goes back up, to complete the exact same test maneuvers. The learners are switched out and the new copilot goes through the entire set of maneuvers.         I don't know if the crowd was expecting blood, I think as I notice the diminished collection of gawkers, At least Celestia, Moon City and Brown Chief are still watching. I just wonder who that fancy pants unicorn and mare are.         Tuxie and Lieutenant Solitude are the last of the group. The lieutenant is the most nervous of any of the copilots, but the proximity to the ground gives her enough confidence to perform the maneuvers. Tuxie visibly rails against the restriction, but Glory is firm.         Good girl, I think, then spot Spitfire and Shadow Pearl nodding, I think some - pony is going to get an attitude adjustment.         When the machine sets down for the last time, Glory wilts over the bench. The lieutenant very carefully steps off, then collapses onto the ground. Tuxie sees Shadow Pearl headed over and looks more frightened that the lieutenant was. I head over to the barrier and pull them aside to let the few lookie-lous see the team.         "What exactly is the, well, purpose of this machine?" the unicorn stallion I couldn't place asks.         "P.T. Barnum McHorsefly, Fancypants," Moon City introduces us.         "What does the P.T. stand for?" Fancypants asks while the alicorn-like unicorn mare heads over to talk to Glory. Claire lets her, so I concentrate on the groups near me.         "Whatever is of use at the moment. The machine is to allow a wider access and utility to flight. A pegasus could easily outrun or outmaneuver one, but not out-carry. Enhanced carrying capacity and the inclusion of electrically or magically powered engines would make them even more powerful, but a pony-powered unit will let us train pilots and is does give adequate performance."         "Rescuing foals off cliffs, placing weathervanes on barns and the like all seem like something a pegasus/unicorn team could easily achieve. Is this some way of equalizing things for earth ponies?" Fancypants asks.         "No sir, anyone can fly one, and anyone can have the advantages of one. In a less efficient version than this, Sergeant Mile Stone and I flew from Ponyville to here, in one night. Carrying a fair weight in cargo. Most of the ponies being trained are pegasi and unicorns. Part of the reason you build devices like this, is to see what others will do with them. One other obvious use is as a firefighting machine. A large, refillable water bag, or a unicorn passenger picks up a large amount of water at a lake or stream, and moves it where they need it to fight a forest or house fire. Or even a fire aboard a ship. I'm sure if I left you three gentlemen in a room with one of these, you could develop hundreds of uses, from joyriding, to more businesslike functions. My job is to work the bugs out so other ponies can make use of them."         Fancypants nods. "I think you are correct. Too bad you can't do the same with these New Lunar Republic ponies. Can't they leave her Highness, their Highnesses alone? Do we have to hear the same squabbles about cutie-marks define us, or they restrict us? That the monarchy is inherently unfair/uncaring, and why doesn't her Highness do more for individuals and everypony?"         "If the rumors I've heard are true," I say, as both Moon City and Brown Chief are sweating bullets, "Is that her Highness Luna has them well in hand and is softening up her Highness Celestia to accept some of their more reasonable demands." I look around carefully. "I've even heard that there are elements of the government which approve of these changes. Giving the power of law, to customs which have had the force of law for several hundred years. It doesn't really change anything, but it allows other groups to voice their desire for change. They aren't going to get it right the first time, but it isn't intended to make Equestria a perfect paradise. Who could agree what is paradise in any case?"         "True," Fancypants said, "Are these for sale, or will they be, once you've ironed the bugs out?"         "Yet they will be," I reply.         "I think a sky yacht would be well served in having one or two, rather than go through the dangerous proposition of landing for each and every little thing."         "I'll make sure you are informed when we begin manufacture. If you're interested in a smaller model, you might want to contact Pinkamena Diane Pie in Ponyville. She has built several small, single-seat models."         "I think we would prefer a two-seater," Fancypant said, "And later, a cargo carrier."         "I understand, sir."         We move towards the machine. The two NLR-types hold back, leaving Fancypants free to look. I note that while he looks very carefully, he doesn't touch anything without first asking permission, usually of Glory. The inspection he gives is thorough, and Moon City and Brown Chief seem to be willing to await his pleasure. So does everyone else, including Glory. So I wait.         "Would you and your lady like to go for a short ride?" I offer, and ignore the warning looks from everyone else in the area.         "It wouldn't be too much trouble?" the stallion asks eagerly.         "No, I need a little time at the controls myself," I admit, "The tethers will hold it down, so we can't really go cartwheeling all over the horizon."         "Then what was the fence for?" the unicorn mare asks.         "If pieces came flying off, they might fly quite a distance. But I doubted that would have dissuaded them," I explain.         Fancypants accepts the nod from the mare, and they climb into the pilot and copilot seats. The Wonderbolts and Shadowbolts around the test site snicker, but I ignore them. With the two of them pedaling enough to get the rotors turning, I explain the instruments and the controls.         "You'll have to pedal much faster to get airborne." They do, and we lift, jerk against the tethers, and gently bump down again.         "I'm afraid that's all the courage I have at the moment," Fancypants admits, and his lady agrees.         "You can come back when you can just be an observer," I tell them as they shakily climb out and stagger away to sit down on the grass.         "Well, played," Glory whispers, "Discounting their Highnesses, he's one of the biggest wheels in Canterlot. And where did you meet Moon City and Brown Chief? Add my uncle and you've got the top tenth of 'who's who' in Canterlot."         "Carrying messages," I reply, "Don't ask unless you want to hear about what I did to Sunny Days."         "How did you beat up that monster of a stallion?" Glory asks.         "Pure ferocity, and no sense of morals or fairness. If just Luna or Celestia had been there, it might have had a very different ending."         "Even you aren't a match for both Alicorn sisters," Glory says as she frowns.         "That's what I said. But if there'd been only one . . . You can ask them if you don't believe me."         "It'll take at least two hours to fix," I tell Shadow Pearl as I examine the twisted drive shaft.         "I expect it in half-an-hour," he says and walks away.         "You won't get it," I tell him.         "I gave you an order."         "The order's not possible. I don't pad my estimates. You asked how long, I told you. You want to fly with three rotors, that's fine too," I tell him, "You want four, it's going to take two hours."         He glares at me, but I return my attention to the job and don't even look at him. Despite the heat of his stare, I keep working.         After a bit, Spitfire walks over. "He's going to expect that job done in half-an-hour."         "It's always good to want things. But like I told him. This job typically takes the time it takes and I'm not going to cut corners, and safety, just because he's in a hurry. We aren't being shot at, no lives are in the balance, and so there's no excuse to do something that'll endanger you and the others because he wants to prove who's boss."         She shakes her head as she walks away. The drive shaft comes out easily, eight minutes, but the holes in the mating pieces for the pins that held the drive shaft are enlarged. That means weld and temper, which means at least an hour. He walks over as I'm setting up the temper.         "This should be ready," he tells me.         "If you want a vibration from the shaft rattle tearing something loose, it's ready now. Then it's grounded until I can figure out what damage was done. Unless the connectors do open the holes more and the whole assembly slips out Then I'll be further delayed by helping with the funeral of whoever was flying it."         "What would you do if we were under fire?" he asks.         "I probably would wedge something in there and weld up the whole thing, and hang all but the briefest temper," I reply.         "Why not here?"         "Because then we'd have to replace the entire line from the rotor to the transmission, or spend hours breaking the welds and fixing things. There aren't any other shops making these, just me. If you want interchangeable parts, I have to make them, or I have to recruit others to make them to exacting specifications. That takes time that the level and speed of repairs you require don't allow for."         "So it's my fault."         "If you want 100% up time on a machine that is essentially a work-in-progress prototype, talk to your own mechanics about building a second, or even a third one. I have the blueprints of how the machine is as it currently stands. It's not a question of 'fault', it's a question of resource allocation," I tell him as I finish the tempering and begin reassembling the piece with the pins and the new drive shaft. I can feel him staring at me.         "If you quit wasting time locked up with the Princesses, you'd have more time to work," he says.         "They outrank you, sir, and that is the work. This, is the time off," I tell him flatly.         Luna looked around the small conference room accessible only through the two sisters' quarters, at the diligent ponies working with her and her sister, and felt ashamed asking these bone-weary ponies, "Why do we specifically need to prohibit our subjects from being able to sue our Highnesses?" She ignored the polite but faintly pained expressions, as they struggled to hammer out, yet another bump in the 'Magna Carta'.         Barnum looked up from his notes and noticeably stifled a sigh. "Because if you are encouraging your subjects to freely seek redress of grievances, there will be a portion who will demand redress of frivolous grievances, as well as people who will seek to use the pretense of a grievance to waste your Highnesses' time, resources, or to simply enrich themselves at the government's expense by lawsuit. There are always those willing to 'use a shield as a sword'," Barnum explained.         "Very good, young sir," Sir Eagle said, as exhausted and as polite as the colt, "We'll make a proper civil servant of you yet. It is a good point, and we are talking about enshrining items in law that have always been the accepted custom."         "If Brown Chief and Moon City knew who was really 'redrafting' their documents, they'd have a conniption fit," Barnum said.         "Oh dear, and I was so hoping for a complete coronary," Sir Eagle said and sadly shook his head, "Give them a heroes' funeral with all the trimmings. State Funerals are such a nice and honorable way to close the book on a useful tool."         Luna coughed up her tea as Celestia chuckled. "Their deaths should not be celebrated!" Luna insisted.         "Oh no, your Highness," Barnum corrected, "Their deaths shouldn't be arranged. But their deaths should be celebrated, all of Equestria honors their bravery and dedication."         "Tragic loss, cut down after such a momentous accomplishment, what other wonders could they have achieved?" Eagle Bell asked rhetorically.         Luna was staring at them with utter horror. Celestia's suppressed laughter didn't help.         "Your Highness," Barnum said, "It also prevents people from thinking the movement was tainted by these people who didn't just have hooves of clay, but were clay up to their necks."         "Tips of their upraised ears, I should think," Eagle Bell corrected, "Discovering such things after someone has died just elevates the stature of their accomplishments."         "I'm rather glad you two are on our side," Luna said, then considered, "You are on our side?"         "We are happy and eager to serve, your Nightjesty," Eagle Bell said as he and Barnum bowed slightly.