Flameheart sat in the piercing wind, wrapped in thick, white winter gear. The pegasus carefully examined his rifle. He pulled the bolt back and chambered a round, then covered it with a rag to keep the light snowfall from freezing onto the bolt.
Just behind him, the tent was set up, and the small explorers' lamp gave warm yellow light to its interior. Sweetie Belle and Amber Light sat on one side, working a radio receiver and planning for the next day. Rarity could hear the howling wind outside, and while all the other ponies in the tent had shed all their winter clothing, Sweetie Belle and Rarity still wore a layer of warm underclothes.
That morning, Rarity had been quite warm in the tent, but now she sat, wrapped in blankets. Her nose ran, her body shivered, her stomach churned, and her mane was a rat’s nest.
She downed three pills, at this, her first opportunity since their departure that morning. “Ohh, my hooves are so sore. My back is sore. I'm positively sore all over, and I just can't get warm enough! And my hurt hoof, nurse, it's hurting again!”
“Oh, you poor thing. Your hoof and cold should only get better from here, though. Would you like some more soup?” The Nurse asked.
“No, thank you, but I feel so sick the last thing I want right now is something in my stomach. And sleep. But wait, no, I mean the first thing I want is sleep. And to go home. I just want to go home, and out of this dreadful...” she mentally hunted for the word; “Tundra.”
“Oh, I'm so sorry but It's going to be a long while before we have any chance of getting you back,” she apologized “Are you sure you don't want a little soup?”
“Eh. Maybe a little...” The Nurse pulled out a can and began preparing two bowls of soup.
Rarity's ear and bandaged stump of an ear pulled back as she bowed her head. Her gaze went off beyond the floor, and the realization came over her. She turned back to the nurse; “How long do you mean, by... 'a long while'?”
“Oh, probably at least a few weeks, if not more than a month,” she replied over her shoulder as she opened the can.
“A few weeks? You mean groups of seven days? And a month as in thirty?” The unicorn's eyes went wide.
“Yes, Rarity, unfortunately I do.” She set one of the bowls of soup on a little rack hanging from the lamp. “That'll be the only way to warm it until Snowglade's available. Can you do any warming spells?”
“I'm afraid not... But, if I'm going to be here for a more extended amount of time... I guess I really ought to get around to asking... You've introduced yourselves, but who are you? You're clearly not from The Alliance, and so well equipped, well, you don't seem to be ruffians of some sort. And you. The names I know from Equestria are your private names, but yours is your public name. And then everypony thought I was another pony named 'Grandeur'...”
The nurse laughed a small, modest chuckle. “We're certainly not ruffians of any kind. First, I go by my private name because I'm a Neophyte, and I'm a nurse. Either one of those would mean I go by my private name in public. It's a sign of trust and good will.” She smiled.
“What is a Neophyte?”
“Oh, that's right, you don't know. We're a group dedicated to peace, and healing, of mind and body... Long ago, an alicorn gave wisdom, and she still does. She's gained a following, and that's us. The Neophytes. We're her students, and some of the best healers on this side of the globe.” She gave another proud little smile. “She's an amazing abbess, though she prefers just to be called; 'The Stewardess'. I would love for you to meet her.”
“Good?” Snowglade asked Amber Light.
“Good,” he replied, and they both began packing papers away.
Snowglade took a few steps over next to the nurse; “You wanted me for something?”
“Oh, yes,” the nurse replied; “Just a warmth spell on the soup.” She motioned to both the bowls, one more full than the other.
“One warmth spell coming right up.” Sweetie gladly obliged and began casting.
“So... You're all Neophytes, then?” Rarity asked all of them.
“No, that's just me. Neophytes take a vow, and part of it is non-aggression; the only type of soldiers we'll ever be are medics.” She took her now-warm soup and sipped a bit.
“So that's why everyone else carries a flintlock but you... Then who are you? Soldiers for what army?”
“Flintlock?” Amber Light shot. “You mean the rifles? No, those are bolt-action. Sheesh. They really don't have weapons where you're from.”
Rarity raised an eyebrow at him.
“But to answer your question,” he promptly continued, “we're an independent nation, our homeland is Bastion. We're sworn to end the winter, and the night, and bring a cerulean sky over the world once more. That's part of why we wage war with The Alliance,” he explained, then continued with vigor, “Their disharmony, by killing the unicorns, ensures that summer will never come. We're called Ceruleans!” He finished with pride.
“Oh, then the winter is brought by Wendigos!” Rarity realized.
“Yes. That's right.”
“But all this fighting... Surely it only makes the winter worse?”
“Hate feeds the Wendigos, strictly speaking, not fighting. But in any case, it won't end until The Alliance has fallen, and that's not going to happen easily, certainly not peacefully.”
Nurse Redheart sat behind him, so only Rarity saw her frown with uncertainty at his last three words.
“Are you so sure about that?” Rarity asked for the Neophyte.
“Absolutely. They kill anyone who says that unicorns might be anything less than monsters. They kill left and right, whatever it takes for them to hold power, they'll do it,” he answered in a final tone.
All the talk of killing only made her stomach more upset. She sighed, and he turned and began looking through the supplies.
“Soup?” the nurse offered her the hot bowl with the smaller portion. She accepted and took a sip. “Now, for your third question about Grandeur...” the nurse began, then paused. “I think it would be best if Snowglade told you, she was her sister, and there, after all.” The Nurse nodded to her.
“I still am her sister.” Sweetie Belle answered. “And even if you're not really Grandeur... you are Rarity. So you're still my sister,” she finished affectionately and wrapped a hoof around Rarity. The elder smiled at the warm, loving hug from her sister, but couldn't help but notice that she was a few years older than her counterpart in Equestria, and very warm.
As their hug finished, Snowglade took off her coat, and started taking off her thermal boxers; “It's always warm in the tent by the time me'n the sergeant finish determining our position...” Rarity yalped in shock as Sweetie took the boxers off. “What?” she asked.
“Sweetie – I mean – Snowglade! You have a cutie mark!” On the young pony's flank, was an image of a lightning bolt with gold waves behind it.
“So?...” Rarity and Redheart could see realization pop into Snowglade's head. “Oh, right! You haven't seen it yet!” She beamed, and a waterfall of words came out; “So, after... the incident, I went to Bastion, and joined the young recruits, and remember my hobby with electronics like you were really good at? I tried it at the young recruits, and I was really good at it, and one day we got a destroyed radio that they thought was broken for good, but I fixed it – just like you did! - and I shocked everypony and got my cutie mark! Isn't it wonderful!... Oh, and the lightning bolt means I'm good with electronics and can do electric spells, and the waves mean I can feel current running through things! Isn't that just – just... Amazing!? I was so good that I later got promoted, and graduated top of my class, so I ended up on the task forces on this team, and I've been trained in navigation and I know morse code and – and isn't it just great?!”
Rarity was leaning back and wide-eyed. She blinked twice, then smiled. “It's just fantastic, Snowglade! But I'm... not sure what you were talking about, when you said I fixed a radio, or 'the incident'.”
She bubbled with excitement. “Yeah! You fixed a radio back in South Shades – our hometown! I was just a little foal when you did it – but you earned your cutie mark – a radio transmitter! Later it saved a bunch of ponies' lives – even my own!... Because we could call for help when...” The excitement quickly melted; “...when The Alliance came...”
“Oh...” Rarity leaned in and delicately whispered. “Would you mind telling me what happened, Sweetie?”
“Well...” Belle glanced sideways without lifting her head. “It was just a little town of unicorns in the tundra. It was in a cozy, nice little place in the Foal mountains...” She faced Rarity. “You loved it there... The icicles glistened like diamond near Warmheart Cave!” Her excitement dropped. “We used to go there and collect gems together all the time...” Her gaze fell again.
“It sounds marvelous,” the older sister replied; “But whatever happened to...” Grandeur must be my counterpart in this world... Oh, my! I had a counterpart here! She was Sweetie Belle's older sister, and now it looks like she's gone... She couldn't bring herself to tell her little sister that Grandeur was dead, and she was somepony else. “...me?”
“Well, I guess it's not that bad since you're here now, right?” She cheered up, then softly began the tale; “The Ceruleans were bringing in airplanes to fly unicorns out, they had a big open area where they could land a long way from South Shades – our home. You led a lot of ponies to the planes...”
Sweetie's voice started to tremble; “You were supposed to get on one of the planes with me -” She started talking faster, “ - The Alliance was overtaking the town, a snowstorm was rolling in... But you went back, to look for any survivors to take to Bastion. You went back that one last time – and, and... and you were never heard from again...” She faced the floor once more, pulling her ears back and tapping one of her forehooves on the blanketed floor.
A short silence came over the tent before Redheart piped in; “Never heard from by the Ceruleans, or The Alliance. Every unicorn they kill or capture is documented. White body, cutie mark of a radio transmitter, and a purple mane, they killed no such unicorn in that raid. You vanished into the blizzard.”
“But it's not that bad, right? You're here now, right?” Sweetie Belle perked up as she asked Rarity.
“Grandeur died, to ever haunt the tundra, to protect unicorns from The Alliance.” Amber Light said with a tinge of parody, turning around from his work in the supply pile. “It started something of a small legend. Makes a good story, but truth be told, Grandeur froze to death, or was shot and not documented, or just we haven't discovered that document and she was actually executed. Sorry, Snowglade, that's the reality. This may be Rarity, but she's not the pony you knew from South Shades. That pony's long dead and frozen, lying in the ice somewhere, and Rarity didn't bring her back.”
Snowglade moaned and faced the ground. A hoof wrapped over her shoulders. “I am Rarity, and maybe I wasn't with you in South Shades, but I'm with you now, Sweetie Belle.” Tears welled in the young pony's eyes as she faced her sister and returned the embrace.
“Huh.” Sergeant Amber Light started, but stopped himself from commenting any more. After a few moments of their closed-eyed, back-patting, rocking embrace, not even his eyes were dry.
* * *
Governor Spectrum's medals clanged on her chest as she walked home. She didn't feel like flying. She walked the small uphill path that wound up to the back, east side of the palace. To her right she could just see over the frosty roofs of the stone buildings of the city, lit by rows of golden bulbs, which seemed to fight away the darkness far above. Behind her a small troop of high guards followed. “Alright, guards,” she started as she topped the path to a small gate, “back to your patrols.” They affirmed and flew off as she passed the low stone walls of the palace.
As she walked into the east courtyard, she looked around, surrounded by guarded stone walls and alone, she approached the pool. The water, although it was clean, reflected the black sky, and glistened with gold from the dim light of the courtyard's bulbs. She looked at her reflection in it, and couldn't help but notice she wasn't acting herself. Stopping to look at your reflection? What happened?
She thought over the day's events. Aside from an odd unicorn, nothing unusual had happened. A lot, I guess... she thought about the unicorn. She blew off the thought, reminding herself of her status. No, not a lot at all. Just another unicorn! Why am I letting this get to my head?
She looked up at the black sky. The darkness that shrouds our world... She looked at her glowing palace, a massive tower gloriously lit with gold lights, with a central tower that reached upwards into darkness. The beacon of light. Unity, order, The Order, The Alliance of earth ponies and pegasi, the organization that holds our world together, on which all life depends... She thought back to the foundations of The Order, the wars with the unicorns, the constant fight against anarchy. Upheld by sweat and blood, and the blood of the innocent... The purges came to her mind again, a necessary loss for the survival of their kind, innocent blood, a sort of queen sacrifice to save the king from the cold. I know what it takes to survive.
Some pride swelled in her as she hovered up a short ways to look over the walls, and over the entire city. I am the one who holds them together, who keeps them alive against the cold. So what, if a few die? It's the price that must be paid for the rest to survive. It simply must be done. She landed next to the pool, and looked to a door of the palace, but couldn't bring herself to move towards it.
She looked back at her reflection. Then why do I feel like a murderer?... I did what I had to! What, was there some other way to keep order?!... She huffed at the accusation made against herself. How can I be a murderer if what I did allows everypony to keep living? The Order must stand. The Vanhoover dome fell, when they overthrew The Order there. It fell. It is impossible for the domes to stand without The Order! It sent a shiver down her spine to think of it. It was cold in the domes, but outside, it was bitterly, deathly cold.
Mining colonies, refineries, military bases all survived outside the domes, but it was the enormous underground farming complexes underneath the domes that allowed life to continue, and the structures themselves stood as powerful symbols of The Order's protection against the cold. She looked back up at the darkness. The death toll from the dome collapsing alone would be tremendous... she thought, peering up at the massive steel structure in the darkness.
The very walls are enchanted to have the strength to stand against their own weight. Maybe the spell just ran out at Vanhoover. Maybe the unicorns' magic does not last forever, as we thought, and were told by the Blades. But if the Blades lied to us, that would be nothing short of a betrayal! They would have to know about the death and destruction it would cause! Would the Blades of Night really betray us like that, to not tell us? Would they really lie? Complete honesty everywhere else, so we miss the one big lie they tell us? She sighed, as her mind brought her back to one unicorn in particular. Twilight Sparkle.
Tomorrow evening, she dies... But what other options do I have? If the Blades needed more members, I could send her there to be re-educated and join them, but they're not. To keep her alive would be nothing less than high treason!
She looked at the medals on her reflection, earned by fake deeds of heroism, a fictional Governor Spectrum that had fought in great battles, a lie that the population believed. In truth, they belonged to the Governor Spectrum that had committed the purges, and been appointed her position by politics, not to the fictional, heroic governor that had risked her life for the greater good. But perhaps that's all I deserve. A shortcut to an Azure Sky, she finished her thought.
She saw the golden leaflets on her sleeves and collar in her reflection. But I'm here, doing my job, and the world needs me. I can't cower out. This is my duty. To preserve order... But do I really matter? If I die, another governor will take my place. The world will continue to exist, though I will not be in it. And can I really live with the alternative? If I struggle almost every night with the purges, can I live with the knowledge that the unicorn of my dreams has slipped by and been executed under my command? No! She grimaced.
“Governor?” came a familiar soft voice.
“Not now, Goldfeather. No. Not again. I can't tell you this time. Just go away.” She didn't even turn to look.
“But-”
“Go away,” she pressed without raising her voice. It's time for change. I can't keep living like this. I can't tell Goldfeather national secrets, I can't kill the unicorn that has haunted my dreams, and now haunts me in life. I will send Twilight to join the Blades! Maybe she will change something. Maybe I'll get caught and killed. But whatever happens, something will change.
She heard dragging hoofsteps lead away. After a minute of silence, she heard the familiar popping noise of a unicorn’s teleportation. “Good evening, Governor,” came a much smoother voice.
For a brief moment, Who now!? Shot through the governor's head, before she realized what the teleportation meant and turned to see the Chief Blade of Night standing next to her. “In the open? Like this?” she asked the unicorn, as she turned back to her reflection.
“My, what a way to return a salutation! Haven't you learned by now to trust a Blade's judgment?” she lectured.
“I know a bad decision when I see it.” She started thinking of her own decision about Twilight.
“But you don't see it. You're not even looking at me. A certain perception spell makes it difficult for you to even notice me. If I were to go silent, you would forget I'm here,” she explained with pride. “Now, down to business. You have a unicorn. One that says unusual things.”
The pegasus' gaze shot to her, her wings popped out in an agitated stance, ears perked and one eyebrow down in an incredulous look. “What do you know about her?”
“Only that you should kill her,” she croaked. The governor almost jumped. She continued in a more normal voice; “The Blades need no unicorns, as of now. But it's urgent you kill her swiftly. I would recommend paying a visit to the prison now, killing her, and putting a surrogate in her place for the spectacular, as is done for recruitment.”
“Why would I do that? What's the rush?” Full Spectrum demanded.
“She's dangerous. We've followed her leyline, and she bears dangerous powers. She must be killed for the safety of our world,” the Blade told her in an idealistic tone.
Rainbow glared at her, her wings now fully outstretched in a combative posture. “What do you mean by this!? Give me details!”
“I'm sorry I cannot, governor, as much as I can give, is that she threatens this very world. A Blade never lies, you must believe me.”
The governor had never heard such urgency in a Blade's voice. “Why don't you kill her yourself if it's so important?” she degraded.
“Now, governor...” the Blade resumed her usual smooth, condescending tone; “I would never overstep my bounds and do such a thing. That's your job.”
The governor stomped a hoof. “The Blades have never respected bounds! Give it to me straight, Blade, what's going on with her!?” Were it not for the dress, she would have seemed like she was about to charge the Blade.
“Nothing more insidious than your own dealings with Fluttershy.” She cracked a smile.
“You! You!...” The governor paused, gritting her teeth, her mind panicking. “Is this all some kind of test!?” She was terrified of being spotted talking with a unicorn, yet she could barely keep herself from yelling.
“You may consider it as such if it pleases you,” the Blade said, “but it wouldn't be accurate to do so,” she cheerfully chided.
It all came together. The dreams, Goldfeather, Twilight. “You! You planted those memories!” She took a step forward, stomping, “Maybe you even planted my own dreams!” her voice quivered.
“Planted your dreams? I'm not the princess of the night, and she only visits them. Now stop digressing. We're not here to talk about your dreams. The unicorn. Kill it,” she said flatly, glaring at the governor.
“Why don't you give me a straight answer and maybe then we can talk about it? Why don't you kill it?” the governor demanded.
“That's your job, governor. Though you seem awfully riled up about it...” her voice tapered, then she confessed; “The honest truth is, I can't kill her. Once again, I'm afraid you'll have to be patient for your explanation.” She trotted past the pegasus, regaining composure as she passed.
Spectrum growled. “Tomorrow. She'll be at the spectacular. No surrogate. Surrogates are dangerous and cruel. I'll avoid it if possible.”
“Very well, governor. Just be sure she dies.” The Blade trotted away and vanished.
This is my dome. I know what I'll do. It's MY choice to make! The governor growled.
* * *
There was never sunlight under the dome, the city being lit by incandescent bulbs alone. Yet the early morning always had an inexplicable freshness about it. General Crimson Fire filled his lungs with the crisp air as he trotted past a secured perimeter and into an administration building, a faint bounce in the red stallion's step.
To the untrained eye, Gold Will's brother would seem indifferent, but Alloy Shield did not have an untrained eye. He could notice the signs, the faintest bit of a smile and the head held high, the quick energy with which he moved, to Alloy Shield, the eternal night seemed to end in a small area around the general. “Morning, general,” he greeted from his checkpoint. “Is the good news anything you can tell me?” he asked.
The general produced a small card, and held it over the wall of the cubicle-like post. “Sharp as a whip, officer, but I'm afraid not. 'Morning, nonetheless.” He received the card back as the security officer finished checking it. He eyed the real security of the building: a concrete bunker with slit-like windows at the far end of the enormous lobby, gazing down at the building's entrance like an enormous gargoyle’s eyes.
It felt more like walking in front of a fortress than entering an administration building, but the security was similar. He continued his trot past the imposing structure and it's concrete base, down a flight of stairs and into a more secure portion of the building under the bunker's foundation.
A small, cute pink pony with a curly mane, a particularly wide grin and short dress covering her cutie mark bounced past him.
His mind darted to her short dress. In his workplace at the Delphi dome, the covering of a cutie mark would have been a breach of security, he mentally noted. Must be a different code here in the York dome. Odd uniform, though; a frilly little colorful dress like that?... He gave himself a quick mental shake; I need to stay focused on the task at hoof, and stop thinking of cute mares!
He produced his card at another small checkpoint and entered a library-like vault filled with rows of filing cabinets. No eyes watched in here, leaving no witnesses of the various changes that the highest-level officers of The Order made to the records.
As he rounded the corner to the small hall, he froze before he could gasp. A dark purple, nearly black unicorn stood in front of him. She wore a finely crafted light blue helmet, chest piece, and boots, all designed with curves and points that dripped with malice. A dark, night blue cloak flowed from where the chestpiece wrapped around her neck, reaching down to her boots, shrouding her entire body.
Her chest piece and the cloak's flank bore the crystal-blue eight-sided star: A Blade of Night.
“Good morning, General Crimson Fire” greeted the blade, “It seems you're here to change Gold Will's record, erase her crimes, and commit some form of high treason, right?” her voice was smooth, bristling with pride and arrogance.
His mind raced for an answer. “What gives you that idea?” he asked. “I'm sworn to The Order! I would never!”
She let off a small chuckle. “We Blades are powerful sorcerers. We have our ways of knowing everything and anything, like about your sister's return to life from another world, or that vow she made, or your intentions to let her begin a new life here, safe...” she gave him a piercing gaze; “...or so you would hope.”
She was a good-sized mare, yet almost a full head shorter than Big Mac, but her smiling, condescending look made him feel half as tall. She knew he meant to hide a criminal's actions, to commit treason, and he knew that if she let him deliver the first blow, he would have no chance of fighting back, so his only choice was to neutralize the threat immediately. He dropped low, preparing to charge her.
In a purple flash an olive branch appeared in front of him. “Peace. No need to fear, my dear stallion. I really don’t care enough to kill you.” The branch vanished, she walked past him and carelessly brushed her tail on his face, giving him a whiff of perfume.
“However, when it comes to your affairs, I would be lying if I said I don't care, and a Blade never lies,” she recited the mantra with an almost singing voice. “But rest assured I'm mostly harmless...” she paused. “for now,” she finished with a small flick of the tail, whipping its tip next to his legs.
He fought to keep his voice from quaking. “What are you doing here?” he finally asked.
“Oh, I would love to say I'm just saying 'hi', but that would be lying as well, Big Mac.” He cringed slightly as she called him by his private name. She continued; “I'm here on my own business, and you ought to attend to yours, and rather quickly, too, may I add.” she said with a hint of urgency. “Believe me, I'm far less of a threat to you than what you'll find on row...” She pretended to ponder, savoring the moment, intentionally leaving the general waiting.
“'G'.” she said quickly. “Now isn't that an interesting coincidence?” she feigned interest, then continued in a voice a kindergarten teacher would use to a young filly; “'G' is what 'Gold Will' starts with, so her file is right on that row. What a lucky coincidence for you.” She trotted cheerfully away. “You should go see it. Then run. You'll be fine if you run. Now, good day, general, and next time a Cerulean spy bounces past you, do try to notice,” she finished, relishing in condescension, then vanished around a bookcase, motioning to follow. He turned the corner, finding only an empty alcove as if the Blade had never been there.
'You'll be fine if you run', a Blade never lies! he thought. The stallion galloped to row 'G', and found an unattended stuffed saddlebag, sitting, leaning against the cabinets. He quickly turned to run.
* * *
A pony's voice echoed down the stone hallway; “Air Infantry, on me! There's been an attack, they're scrambling everypony. We need everypony on hoof!”
“Clockwork, stay here with the unicorn, the rest of you, on me!” The sergeant swooped into the air and took flight down the hallway, followed by the rest of his stallions, except the blue pegasus. The team left shadows in their wake as they flew by the numerous incandescent bulbs that strung the hallway, mounted where torches had been in centuries past.
“Yessir,” he replied in their direction without enthusiasm, entirely unheard as the dark shadows swept over him.
The unknown pony's hurried voice echoed down the hall as they left; “There's been an explosion in the records department, a pink pony with -” his voice cut off as a heavy wooden door slammed shut against stone with a metal click.
Clockwork sighed and looked at his charge. On the other side of modern, glossy, magic-reflective steel bars, lay the unicorn on the cold stone floor, dirty, and her mane a mess. There were no lights or windows in her cell, and though darkness filled its corners, it was still lit well enough to easily see the hog-shackled prisoner lying completely immobile in the middle of its floor.
A new, secured gag held her silent, a gem-studded ribbon on her horn held her powerless, and a bracelet-sized, thick steel earring held on to her sore, newly-pierced ear. The previous day she had spent looking bored, scared then tired. Her night had been more restless than her guards', and the morning had been spent with her screaming into her gag as her ear was pierced, then shivering afterwards. The guards' latest activity had perked her interest, and now she faced the one remaining.
“Just me and the unicorn, then...” he said nonchalantly, avoiding her gaze and looking at the bulbs that strung the hall. He started tapping the stone floor with his hoof - tap, tap, tap, ding. He looked at his hoof to see the rifle strapped to it had slid down a little. He grabbed it with his other hoof, pulled it up, bit a strap and pulled it tight.
Twilight pulled her ears back, only to let out a whine as her sore ear hit her with a surge of pain, making her wince. The whine stole Clockwork's attention. Twilight felt oddly relieved that he acknowledged her existence by looking at her. He stared at her for a few moments, opened his mouth as if to speak – then closed it, looking back down at his rifle for a few more long moments.
“The others wouldn't be so keen to tell you, and I really shouldn't, but... It's for record-keeping.” He looked back up at her and motioned to her earring. “After the execution they incinerate the body, and the earring is left to record that you existed. I... think it's only fair you know that...”
She looked at him and frowned, pulled her ears back, involuntarily whined and looked away. His own eyes went wide, his ears flopped down, and he averted his gaze.
“Your kind has committed atrocities, yet...” he paused, uncertainty filling his voice. “An Earth pony just set off a bomb, and we don't condemn their entire race... I shouldn't even be saying a word to you, never mind speaking blasphemies, but looking at you, you're just... Just another pony, about to meet a horrible fate. How am I not supposed to pity you? Spectaculars are...” he stopped himself.
“If it's any consolation, you're probably going to be drunk enough to dull the pain a bit,” he said, regaining confidence. “Everyone knows it... Well, at least some suspect it, anyways. The governor gets the unicorns drunk, we think. A drink, then off to the Azure sky for you... If unicorns go there when they die...”
Twilight's attention was caught. Her mind began racing, she looked away, lost in thought. Wait... Doesn't that mean that's their idea of an afterlife? Is that what Rainbow meant by 'take me home!?' Is she actually just going to kill me after all!? she thought. The earring! If it's a record of me... Then I'm already condemned. She lied to me! She's not taking me to Equestria, she's having me executed! No! She can't, she wouldn't!...
“I've always wondered if unicorns are truly evil, to be frank,” the small blue pegasus pony continued; “and I guess now I'll find out. If you try to rat me out just for the sake of it, I'll know you're evil. If not, then I'll finally know for sure...”
He'd distracted her from her struggle with denial. She raised one eyebrow in a quizzical look at him.
“But this is all stupid of me, really.” He lifted his hoof and carefully examined his rifle from one end to the other. “Why am I talking to a unicorn? I could get into serious trouble for this, but I'm doing it anyways. Why?”
He trotted right up to the bars of Twilight's cell, picking up energy; “Why do I feel so compelled?” he asked, looking straight at her. She met his gaze without an answer, only pulling her ears back in an even more confused look.
He turned and looked down the hall, his voice soft again. “How could this possibly change my life? So what if you are good, it's not like I could do anything about it...” he said over his shoulder to her, before turning straight back to her with renewed vigor; “I feel like this is the one chance in my life to find out for sure, and I'll never be happy with myself if I let it slip by. I must know. But why, why?...” He sighed.
“Funny thing, curiosity is, isn't it?” he asked her, cocking his head slightly to one side.
“I wonder if you feel that, too. That ferocious thirst for learning...” his voice tapered off, his gaze averting, before it snapped back to her and he continued in an urgent tone; “Tell me, unicorn, it's burning me, it's killing me, are you really a monster, or do you 'monsters' feel curiosity, too? Do you feel curiosity?” He bore down on her, looking straight into her eyes.
It pained her to see it. It scared her to see him acting so strangely, yet she understood it all too well. She saw her old self in him, guarding herself for her execution. He was full of nervous energy, intensely curious about things. He was obviously lonely, not just intensely curious but painfully curious, thirsty for something that seems forever just beyond reach, and satiating that thirst seemed more important than life itself.
She stretched her neck to lift her head off the floor, turn it off its side, and slowly nod at him.
“And what can I do about it? Nothing from here, I'm afraid...” he said, looking at his uniform. “I joined the outfit to get paid and make the world better... At least I'm getting paid, right?” He cracked a half-humored smile, before his ears drooped and he finished; “I suppose one pegasus doesn't make any difference in the world, really. If I wasn't here, somepony else would be...”
Twilight's expression softened with compassion. She looked straight at him and shook her head.
“No?... Haha, I can't believe I'm communicating with a unicorn... So you believe a single pegasus can make a difference?” He thought for a moment. “I suppose you're right, really. Look at the world the first Commander Hurricane created. But there's nothing I can do, here and now. Maybe one day I'll be in command, and the moment will come...”
He looked at her and his ears drooped again. He continued, softly; “You haven't even said a word, and you're supposed to be a monster that I'm under orders to make sure gets killed. Yet I've told you things I've told nopony else, ever, and you've understood me...” He averted his gaze once again, but only for a short pause.
“To honor you, I'll take the chance to make a difference, when it comes, and I'll watch for it... It's just...” He walked back to his spot against the wall opposite Twilight's cell, talking over his shoulder; “It's not now...” He turned to look straight at her. “There's really nothing I can do now. I'm sorry,” he apologized, and faced the floor, mumbling, “I'm really sorry.”
* * *
Amber Light's team kept walking through the blizzardy, barren waste. The morning had been unusually quiet, and under threat of being heard by Alliance patrols, it stayed silent. Rarity didn't mind. With a sore throat, upset stomach, shivers and fever, she had little to say as she was hurried along with the rest of the group. Whatever it was they were out here to do, the sergeant was sure it was important.
There was no snowfall, but in the foggy darkness they couldn't see more than a few hundred yards, regardless. Each step broke a small layer of ice over the snow, making Snowglade's job of hiding tracks almost as difficult as Rarity's struggle to keep walking through the unusually energy-sapping terrain, as if the biting cold air, sore hooves and pained injury weren't handicap enough.
Flameheart led. He raised a hoof, then made the pounding motion. They all dropped at once. He made a series of hoof signals to Amber Light, who responded with some of his own. Flameheart nodded and flew off.
After a few long moments, he returned. “We're clear. It's just our connection. Sir, it's for you.” The team stood back up.
“Right. Flameheart, take charge, hold position.” Amber Light trod off and disappeared over the next ridge.
Rarity let off an enormous, relieved sigh as she collapsed back into the snow. Flameheart shot over to her. “Need a hoof?”
“I'm quite comfortable, Flameheart...” she groggily replied. At first she was going to hold her peace, but as he stood over her, a memory came back. “What was so shocking about diamonds for my cutie mark? When you first found me?”
He froze, wings extended. “Oh, you remember that!? Uhhmm. I... I like diamonds,” he answered.
She raised an eyebrow. He has got to be the worst liar I have ever encountered... “You shouldn't lie to a lady.” She stood up. “Why, I never imagined a colt such as yourself would do such a thing.”
His wings were even more tense, he seemed to quiver. “I-I... I guess it's personal.”
“Personal? What you found for my cutie mark is personal?” she probed.
“Well... Yes. Very much so.” She was taken aback. He seemed to be telling the truth. She decided to drop it, as her sore throat demanded.
“Well that's odd,” she replied, then laid back in the snow, hoping for the conversation to end.
“You know I'm a pilot, right?” he asked.
“Yes.” Her eyes and feverish body begged her to ignore him and sleep.
“You know what that is?”
“But of course! A pony that operates a small airship, or a tugboat, that guides bigger airships through hazardous areas.” Please, let me sleep.
“Not really... Not airships, anyways. Airplanes.”
“Airplanes?” She perked up.
“Remember that big flying thing yesterday?” he asked.
“Oh, yes. The machine!” she stood up, now engaged in the conversation.
“Heh, thought you would've asked about it...”
She moved her hoof as to idly bounce her mane as she spoke, only to realize it's curls were no longer there. “Well, I was in... Other conversations. Then Amber had us sleep. It's always one thing to another...”
“Anyways, I guess Equestria doesn't have airplanes. What we saw was a T.B.-five. It's a big flying machine. It carries lots of very, very powerful explosives under its wings, that it can drop on groups of ponies and vehicles or bases... But that's not the worst part. The worst part is the machineguns on top. It's like a flying machinegun nest, it'll just circle its target, put spotlights on it, then rain fire from above.” He shivered. “All you can do is hide, and pray you don't end up in it's spotlights.”
“Machineguns?” she asked.
He paused. “Like guns. But automatic, huge, and mounted.”
Her blank look continued. He made dramatized sound effects with his lips. She raised an eyebrow.
He sat on his haunches, and put out his forehooves like he was holding a pogo stick, then feigned recoil and shooting “dun-dun-dun-dun-dun”
“What in Equestria are you doing?” she held back laughter.
“Just... Illustrating a machinegun. Big, mounted, rapid-firing gun...”
She was grinning, barely containing her laughter at his ridiculous demonstration.
“Oh, stop that. Anyways, I fly those airplanes.” He tapped the goggles he wore, as a proud grin spread across his face; “Well, a smaller one without any bombs, but an airplane, still. Small machineguns on front to shoot other planes with. And anything else, too.”
Her grin was quickly replaced by another confused look. “Why would a pegasus need a flying machine?”
“They go faster. Carry guns. And most importantly, mail and cargo. I was on a routine resupply run from Bastion to out here, when five Alliance aircraft came over me. I managed to take out two – that's really good! Then they shot my plane, it burst into flames, and I had to jump.
“The other three tried to strafe me. But luckily, I had lady justice here,” he patted the rifle strapped to his hoof, “a sweet fifty-cal. I put an explosive round straight into one of the plane's engine blocks as it came at me. It burst into flame, and after that, the other airplanes weren't so keen on attacking me. I showed them who's boss. So I kept going and met these guys.” He motioned to the team. There was silence for a few moments that was filled only by the blowing wind.
Rarity glanced side to side, then paused for a moment before asking; “What does 'strafing' mean? Fifty-cal? Engine block?”
Flameheart let out a long sigh and set his forehoof on his forehead. He looked to where Amber Light had gone.
The Cerulean sergeant trudged up the hill to approach a cloaked figure. As he got closer, he saw a fencepost on its back and deeply shaded spectacles on its snout. The figure had two stuffed saddlebags, and apparent from the bulge, something on a belt under the cloak.
“Who brings the sun and moon?” she asked.
“Celestia.” He replied. “What makes the green grass grow?” he asked.
“The blood of The Order,” she replied.
“Good to see you, Astilbe,” he greeted her.
She nodded in reply. “Mhm. Just wait until you see what I've got!” Her mane was puffed up with life.
She pulled a pair of metal boxes, some bags, and a bunch of wire from her saddlebags. “Shaped charges. Brand-new stuff. Straight from Bastion. A set of explosives melts and launches a jet-stream of copper in the direction of these circles-” she patted a copper-colored circle on one of them, “-it instantly melts other metals on contact, slicing through them like a hot knife through butter. And of course, your updated orders and intel.” She handed him a letter. “The charges are specially made for your mission. They have a focus point. For these, it's thirty-eight inches in front of them.”
“A hot knife through butter? This can't cut a dome, can it?”
She shook her head. “Of course not. Nothing cuts a dome!”
He took the equipment and the envelope. He opened it and scanned through it. “Nothing here for you. Is that a bazooka disguised as a fencepost?” he asked with an incredulous look. “You can’t be serious. What are you dressed for? Is that an equipment belt?”
“Oh, this?” She pulled the cloak back. There were a large number of cylinders with pins in them on her belt. “Flash grenades and smoke grenades.” She grinned. “And this, is, in fact a bazooka, made to look like a harmless fencepost.”
He shot her an odd look. “Astilbe, you aren't?-”
She nodded.
“You know you're not invincible. That's just suicidal! That’s stupid!”
“I have a good feeling about this one.”
“Astilbe, if you keep doing things like this, you're going to die one of these times.”
She nodded, and turned around, looking into the air. “I know... But some things are worth dying for. Some things I'd be happy to die for...” She turned back, took a step to him and set a hoof on his shoulder, “And sometimes you just can't help what happens.”
He took her hoof off his shoulder. “Take care, Astilbe.” He said, gently.
“Likewise, Amber.”