Gdocs Version
Marks of Harmony
Part 16
The world of wood and brass that was the interior of Aurora’s ship materialized in waves before Twilight as she tumbled from the teleportation Device. A lone Changeling was still hissing somewhere near her, but it never completed its cry, Applejack pounding it with a powerful buck. Rainbow Dash appeared over her, offering a helpful hoof from where she hovered. Taking it, Twilight let her eyes scan her friends. Save for Pinkie, who Fluttershy was presently fussing over, none of her friends had been seriously injured (a miracle in its own right). She was about to trot over to Fluttershy to check on Pinkie when the Device that had so ungraciously thrown her onto the floor expelled first Chrysalis then Princess Luna in rapid succession.
Inky Jay raced past them from wherever he had been in the room, his hooves deftly unhinging parts near the Device’s nozzle, removing its plate covering, and detaching a convoluted mess of seventeen channels. What exactly he did with the channels Twilight did not know, for she was drawn to the sound of Chrysalis hissing curses under her breath. The queen was inspecting the carapace that wrapped around her midsection as it oozed her green blood from between the scales. “Dang officer knew exactly where to stick his horn,” she muttered, but stopped when she noticed Twilight staring.
“How bad is it?” she asked hesitantly, averting her gaze.
“Not life threatening,” Chrysalis sighed, drawing herself up to her full and considerable height. “But the damage means I need to be extra careful of attacks on my side.”
“Oh, are you injured?” Fluttershy asked, coming up to them. Over her back lay two pairs of saddle bags bulging with various medical supplies, though they looked nothing like any Equestrian first-aid kits Twilight had ever seen.
“I’m fine,” Chrysalis growled initially, but upon looking more closely at Fluttershy’s equipment, asked, “Is that Changeling gauze?”
“I don’t really know,” Fluttershy admitted, retrieving a roll from the bags. “General Spearhead was so brave when we came in here. He, Rainbow Dash, and Applejack knocked all the Changelings unconscious and dragged them into a room below the deck. Rainbow and AJ came back with all this stuff saying they found it in there.”
“It is the Changeling gauze we brought with us,” Chrysalis confirmed for herself. “I suppose it would be a stupid idea not to take the opportunity to be bandaged up. Go ahead, but be sure to put the side with the green specks against the wound.”
“Oh goodness, is it safe to use on nor... normal ponies?” Fluttershy stammered, eyes shifting back where she had left Pinkie.
“Better,” Chrysalis replied matter-of-factly. “It doesn’t just stop blood from leaking out of your body, it acts like a seal on a pipe to keep the blood flowing properly until the vessels can heal.”
“Wonderful!” Fluttershy said, her wings flapping briefly in excitement. She set about her work, and Twilight’s attention shifted to Princess Luna, who was listening to an animated report by Rainbow about the resistance they had encountered below.
“Spearhead’s outside watchin’ for any Changelings or ponies that come up top,” Rainbow said. “There weren’t any on the deck when we went outside, but now that we’ve taken out some Changelings that were on the ship, Aurora’s bound to send some to get us.”
“Or she wilt redirect them to fortifying defensive positions,” Luna countered. “Aurora is not a war master, to be true, but we believe her character wilt rather we seek out our own doom to justify herself.”
“Either way, I don’t think there’s any way to avoid heavy fighting,” Twilight inteposed herself into the conversation.
“We wilt have less reistance the closer we come to our goal,” Luna said. “Remember thy lessons Twilight Sparkle. Where is a shield of magic weakest?”
“At its source,” Twilight fired back automatically. “But these fields aren’t barriers. They’re invisible for one, and we can pass in and out without the assistance of a caster.”
“But for once, magic theory resteth in our favor,” Luna explained. “Though they may not be an impenetrable shield as thy brother casteth, these fields Aurora hath created still serve to block something, and for that they will wilt be weakest from whence they are cast.”
“So... no Changelings around the Devices?” Rainbow guessed.
“If the princess is right, yes, and some small magic and flight ability around the ones blocking those,” Twilight answered, though her tone remained cautiously skeptical.
Rainbow’s eyes brightened at that possibility, but said nothing, for Inky Jay shouted rather loudly, “DONE!” When everypony looked at him expectantly he elaborated, “I’ve disassembled the teleportation channel set. Even if the Changelings or ponies come this way to reactivate the Device, Lady Aurora herself will have to come to place the channels back in their proper position.”
“And will she?” Rarity asked pointedly.
“It is hardly likely,” Inky’s voice scratched. “My hypothesis is that Lady Aurora has connected her mind to the whole of the ship rather than have the Changelings crew it. That being the case, she will not leave her station to repair so minor a Device.”
“Fluttershy, retrieve our general please,” Luna turned her attention to the pegasus. “It is time for us to part company.” Fluttershy returned with Spearhead in short order, and everypony silently grouped themselves into their respective teams. “My group and Chrysalis and Rainbow Dash shalt be able to locate our goals without extensive guidance,” Luna said. “Seeking out the weakest portion of the effect ought to be sufficient.”
“Just be sure you are beneath the Devices when you find them,” Inky advised. “That will mean you will have to crawl into the maintenance shafts of the fifth floor. Once in those, the slats supporting the Devices will be obvious and you can lower them down to disengage them.”
“General Spearhead,” Twilight said to him, “the Devices powering the engines are in a room on the fifth deck as well. It looks like a long hall and there are Devices everywhere with control towers that should allow you to turn them off.”
“She is right,” Inky affirmed for Spearhead. “My advice for you after you have found and dealt with your particular Device sets is to teleport out immediately. Looking for anypony else will provide only a greater risk of death, especially if Lady Aurora takes the House of a Thousand Fangs back into combat without Changelings and dampening fields.”
“And this whole thing’s gonna go SHIIIRRRRR——BOOOM!” Pinkie explained, miming something crashing into the ground with her hooves, “when Spearhead and Applejack get through.”
“Once I’ve safely teleported Rainbow Dash out, I’ll return for anypony who can’t make it,” Chrysalis assured them. “And if I can’t do that, I’ll order my Changelings to take anypony they find with them when they teleport out.”
“Good then, let’s do this,” Rainbow said, placing her hoof out, to which everypony joined his or hers.
“Good luck everypony,” Luna said, they all rushing out of the teleportation center, across the planked deck, and down into various openings to the bowels of the ship.
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For Rainbow Dash, concentration on any one thing only came in the heat of the moment. She was not in any way like Twilight or Applejack, who possessed a bizarre talent for turning their attention on or off whenever they needed it. No, Rainbow’s ability to focus was tied directly to her need at the time, and if running alongside Chrysalis through endlessly identical hallways toward certain battle was not enough to bring out her concentration, she was not the fastest flier in Equestria. Her toned body rested in an alert middle ground between tense from her situation to relaxed from their constant use. Every movement of her eyes was to search out a possible movement of black carapace.
Dash glanced at her sister in arms only once, and Chrysalis had moved beyond simple concentration. She was driven: determined. Her pupils were slits, lids narrowed, and every hoof-fall landed against the wooden floor with vicious purpose. Though Rainbow ran parallel with Chrysalis, the Changeling queen led them, her head abruptly turning a few moments before a new corridor would open up. Through it all, neither of them spoke to one another. They were united in purpose far more than Dash herself would have ever suspected possible, and through that connection—that equal feeling of duty—words were not needed to express their commitment to success.
“Changeling Battleguards around the next left,” Chrysalis said plainly a few paces before their next turn. Dash only nodded and rather than slow her pace, accelerated. She hurtled around the bend, three of the so-called Battleguards standing at attention before a flight of stairs to the fourth deck. Even as she took in their builds and the navy blue armor they wore, Rainbow was already acting out an offensive maneuver. It was normally an obstacle course trick, but she felt it was just as, if not more, useful in this instance. Just as the Battleguards hissed at her sudden presence, Dash leapt at the right wall, using what little natural gliding power still rested in her wings to bring her up higher. Just before she would have painfully smashed into the wood, she flipped herself around and bucked the wall, catapulting herself at an even greater velocity into the left-most Changeling.
They crashed and rolled in a snarling, hissing, and grunting heap. Dash having anticipated the roll was able to stop herself atop the the Battleguard and bring a heavy hoof into his snout. Only when he completely failed to react did Rainbow’s focus begin to fade. Taking advantage of her inactivity, the Changeling swung a powerful right hook into her ear, knocking her off him. By then, Chrysalis had joined Rainbow and was engaged with the other Battleguards simultaneously. Dash had not time to observe the details of their fight, for her own opponent was swiftly bearing down on her, fangs ready to inject with the assimilation venom. The strongest self-preservation instincts combined with her limited knowledge of military technique and without conscious decision, Rainbow reacted.
Finding use for having been flung onto her back, Dash snapped her hind legs into a powerful dual buck to the underside of the Battleguard’s chin. Something (likely his jaw) cracked and he reeled back, mildly stunned from her attack. But whatever kept him from feeling pain continued to hold precedence, for he showed no signs of injury as Dash tackled him to the ground. Their fight became a flurry of hooves as both swung, countered, dodged, and left glancing blows. Dash was nursing a growing shoulder pain, her foe strong as ever, when Chrysalis roared, “Dash! Move!” Not bothering to ask why, Rainbow hurled herself away from the Battleguard, and moments later, one of his fellows was sent hurtling through the air by some device of Chrysalis’s screaming madly. He crashed unceremoniously into Dash’s former combatant, and before either could recover, she leapt back toward them and knocked their heads together, rendering them unconscious. She turned from her victory to witness the remaining Battleguard crushed against the wall by Chrysalis full weight, falling faint when she stood again.
“This is a good sign,” Chrysalis said when she had caught a few breaths. “I only brought a handful of the elite Battleguards and taking three out of the fight means we will have fewer to face when we reach the Devices.”
“Why didn’t they react to being injured though? Is that something Aurora’s field did?” Rainbow asked, picking up their pace again as they moved down into the fourth deck.
“Just like the armor of Celestia and Luna’s Royal Guard,” Chrysalis said, “Battleguard armor gives the wearer certain unique characteristics. A lack of pain for all but the worst wounds is one of the those traits.”
“Any others I should know about?” Rainbow asked.
“It gives their eye shields magical protection, so don’t try damaging those,” Chrysalis said shortly.
“What about tactics?” Rainbow breathed, the both of them having started into a run once again. “Is there anything—they might—DUCK!” Rainbow flattened her body to the floor, Chrysalis forced to ram herself against the wall. A crackling blast of turquoise magic laced with black electricity surged through the air where the two had only just been. So close was the hurtling burst, Rainbow was sure she felt the edges of her mane singed.
“Wonderful,” Chrysalis growled, voice heavy with sarcasm. “She has smaller ones inside.”
“At least it doesn’t blow everything up,” Rainbow replied, glancing behind her where the magic had dissipated against the wall. “Whenever you’re ready, by the way.”
“I am a more obvious target,” Chrysalis said hastily. “I can provide a momentary distraction for you to get close.”
“Done,” Rainbow answered, tensing her muscles in preparation to leap back out into the open from behind the support beam. Chrysalis’s eyes appeared barely open so narrow was her glare when she darted into the enemy’s firing line, postured aggressively. Her horn ignited in its acid green glow that, despite its uselessness, gave her a superior intimidating aura. The queen’s stance must have daunted the enemies further down the hall, for when Rainbow flung her galloping hooves back into danger, they still had not opened fire.
Chrysalis was not far from right in thinking Aurora had placed smaller guns inside her ship. Placed squarely in the center of the corridor was a tripod mounted Device manned by two normal Changeling warriors. Occupied by Chrysalis’s threatening appearance, they only turned the weapon in Dash’s direction when she was already close enough to drop onto her back and slide the rest of the way to the cannon. With the momentum of her slide and power in her hind legs, Rainbow bucked one of the legs of the tripod, sending it toppling backward and into the Changeling operating its trigger. The second was not so easily knocked unconscious, jumping atop Dash and landing a solid hoof to her chest. She felt the wind driven from her chest, the world flashing between light and dark as she coughed for air. No doubt her vulnerability would have meant her death were she alone, but Chrysalis was at her side before the Changeling soldier could inflict any more harm on her. Rainbow was unable to see what exactly happened as she rolled onto all four hooves, but judging by the terrified screaming chitter of the Changeling, Chrysalis had completely overwhelmed her former subordinate.
“You are not too seriously injured are you?” Chrysalis asked Rainbow, coming to her side. “I saw him hit you, but I could not tell how hard.”
“I’m fine,” Dash forced out the answer, placing a hoof on her chest as it rattled painfully with an intake of air.
“Smaller breaths for now,” Chrysalis instructed. “Keep them small and we can keep on.”
“I know... I just... Ahh!” Rainbow tried saying, wincing again when the blow stung more than it previously had. “Chill, I’m fine,” she reiterated upon seeing Chrysalis’s concerned look. “I just need to find the right pace to keep it from hurting.” The two stood silently a moment more as Dash altered her breathing rate, then equally silent, continued their determined penetration deeper into Aurora’s flying fortress.
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“She...! How doth she...?! How?!” Luna asked Rarity in bewilderment, to which the seamstress had no answer other than a shrug. They stood some distance behind Pinkie Pie, watching as she danced. Eight of a Changeling squadron of ten lay around her, twitching in unconsciousness. The remaining two were running from Pinkie in desperate, confused panic. How exactly she had managed to take on the entire patrol herself, neither Rarity nor Luna could be certain. But having lived in the same town and gone to many of Pinkie’s eccentric parties, Rarity was far less inclined to question ‘how’ when said question concerned Pinkie. She was a law unto herself, and as it was in this instance to everypony’s benefit, Rarity saw no actual reason to question. “She shalt get herself into more trouble than she can handle if she continues on in that manner,” Luna worried.
“Don’t fret, Princess,” Rarity said as they watched the remaining two Changelings buffeted into submission by Pinkie’s erratic, energetic dancing. “If Pinkie Pie needs our help, she won’t hesitate to ask.” Luna nodded, doing her best to convince herself of that truth.
After a few more minutes in which there was a conspicuous lack of Changeling defenders, Pinkie ceased to dance and took to walking on the princess’s other side. Her eyes, curiosity ever blooming in their sky-blue depths, wandered over each brass fixture and every oddly shaped knot in the wood planks. Luna and Rarity kept equal silence, though theirs was born of alertness: watching for even a hint of black carapace.
“Um, guys?” Pinkie’s voice cut through the silence like a knife through cheese. “There’s something wrong with this door.”
“What door, darling?” Rarity asked impatiently. “Any part of these walls could be a door and we don’t have time to waste on looking at odd things in an odd place.”
“Yes, she is right,” Luna added. “Our fortune hath been great up unto this point, and it would be foolish to waste it in stopping to inspect something on the fourth deck when our objective lies one deck below.”
“No, you don’t get it,” Pinkie said, shoving against a portion of the wall with all her might. “It’s...locked....!” she gasped when the wall would not give.
“Then that means it’s a wall Pinkie,” Rarity said gently but pointedly.
“No, no, I believe she may have found something of interest,” Luna amended her earlier statement, tone piqued with curiosity. “The dimensions art as Twilight Sparkle described. Miss Rarity, thou canst see the cuts for the door quite plainly.”
“It might be a decoy,” Rarity replied as she inspected the portion of wall by which the other two mares had become intrigued.
“Thou may be correct, but we believe that hidden door in addition to decoy versions is excessive, even for Aurora,” Luna said.
“There’s got to be a hidden switch to unlock it somewhere,” Pinkie insisted, stomping against the floor with all four hooves. “Help the princess check the walls, Rarity.” There was a moment of intensive rapping against the wood by all three ponies, yielding no results. “Oh, come on! I know there’s something here!” Pinkie said frustratedly when even her most bizarre techniques (which involved staring at the wood until it gave up its secrets) failed to reveal the switch.
“I hate to say this, but I told you there was nothing here,” Rarity huffed. “Now we have wasted a dangerous amount of time. We are lucky we haven’t been ambushed already.”
“One moment, Bearer of Generosity,” Luna corrected her. “We believe we have found it.” With a confident hoof, she grasped one of the many brass fixtures which seemed to serve no function whatsoever and pulled down. The wall mounted shape obeyed Luna’s instruction, rewarding her with a satisfying chink as some mechanism slid out of place. “Try the door now, Miss Pie.”
Pinkie grinned widely at Princess Luna before pushing the door with both hooves. As if it had never been locked, the door depressed and with a single shove of Pinkie’s enthusiastic forelegs slid open. Pinkie’s jaw dropped at the sight that greeted them while Rarity gasped and put a hoof to her nose to block the smell issuing from the room. Luna’s only reaction was a slow uttered, “Careful.”
Before them, crammed into what appeared to be storage closet for various laboratory supplies, was a collection of around two dozen Changelings. They were alive, but only just. Many appeared to have been beaten harshly, damage to their carapaces clearly visible in the form of severe cracks and dents and welts and swelling on their legs. They had long since given up changing their mane and tail colors to the uniform grey, preserving what little strength they still possessed. Luna suspected malnutrition both of the love and carnal kind was also at work, judging by the almost catatonic states of many of them. “Do my eyes deceive me?” one of the Changelings managed to croak out, making his stumbling way out of the closet only to collapse at Luna’s hooves. His luminescent blue eye shields were retracted, revealing brilliant orange and yellow eyes not unlike Chrysalis’s.
“Who art thou?” Luna asked stonily, the effort to do so before so pathetic a creature proving more difficult than she had thought. All the same, Changelings were notorious for not only their biological skill of deception, but their psychological trickery as well. That trait she was sure would not have been eroded by Aurora’s control of them.
“I am...was...Captain Hept, commander of Her Majesty the Queen Chrysalis’s contigent brought aboard this acursed ship,” the Changeling said, his voice barely audible for weakness.
“And the others?” Luna continued in her interrogation.
“Princess, hurry! I can hear a small patrol coming from below!” Rarity warned.
“These are my... fellow commanders... subordinate captains,” Hept breathed. “For tactical reasons... we are given... exemption... from our Queen’s hive battle mind. It is part... of our promotions. We were... attacked by our... soldiers after that... abomination.... took them. She left us to starve to death.”
“We canst not help thee presently, though we wouldst wish to do so dearly,” Luna said, Rarity whimpering behind her as the marching of hooves became impossible to ignore. “How long canst thou survive?”
“We can all enter... stasis... for the time being,” Hept answered. “But we will... need medical attention... regardless.”
“Then stay hidden,” Luna commanded. “We wilt not forget thee, and once we and thy Queen hath restored her, thou shalt receive all that thou require. Now go back, we are closing the door.”
“May Faust guide your... blows,” the commander struggled to say before inching back into the closet and whispering to those still awake.
“THEY’RE HERE!” Rarity screamed before forcing herself to leap into the mass of unknown size that had just rounded the bend. She crashed into three Changelings, who hissed in shock. Any recovery they might have made was rendered useless by Pinkie, who threw herself into the fray as though she were a ninja (she had somehow acquired a black face mask). Rarity disarmed one of her foes with a jab at his shoulders, dislocating one with a grisly crunch. The remaining Changelings had been taken on by the Princess of the Night herself. Her superior height and weight gave her both increased range wither swipes and more power in said blows. Three of her seven opponents had been knocked brutally against one another before any of them could react. However, the remaining four had been far enough behind that they had enough time to gain the bearing of the intruders. They squared in stillness with Luna while Pinkie and Rarity worked to completely subdue the three and one of Luna’s former enemies who had not fainted crashing into his brethren. Luna’s eyes flashed and the Changelings’ self-imposed homogenous manes stood on end. They were all poised to strike, and Luna mistakenly lunged first.
Lowering her longer horn, she made to run through the middle of them, breaking their formation. Anticipating such a maneuver, all four Changelings leapt into the air as she charged beneath them, descending back down upon her back in euphoric glee. Luna flailed and snorted as their hooked legs dug into her skin as she desperately attempted to shake them off. Nothing availed her, and she could feel her fury building despite her best efforts to the contrary. She knew they were not, but the Changelings’ way of fighting her seemed eerily similar to the manner in which the Pravum corrupted fought. She could not shake the memories, and with them, the enraged battle prowess she had displayed in those horrible times. Her ethereal mane flared with a momentary blue flash, the whites of her eyes became solid orange, her pupils became snake-like slits, and her soft turquoise irises appeared to leak blue tears of waving power that vanished before passing her chin. Drawing upon her latent strength, her mane rippled in command of her thoughts, beating off of her back all four Changelings. One of them she caught in a tendril from her mane, squeezing him until he fell limp. The others she furiously held off with her mane split into writhing coils, three for each Changeling. They succumbed in short order, as Luna knew they would. She had faced down over thirty Pravum infected and claimed victory. Three Changelings were nothing.
And as she realized as much, she immediately regretted her change. She had allowed the fierceness of a struggle, fear, memory, and battle mania to dominate her decisions. Her one respite was that her back faced Rarity and Pinkie Pie, and that the most they would have seen was her flared mane. With a controlled, deep breath, she withdrew into herself, allowing her mane to become whole once again and her eyes to fade from their natural appearance to the subdued tone she had adopted for so many thousands of years. She turned round hoping her assumptions regarding the two Bearers were correct.
Their eyes were wide in shock and newfound respect, but that aside, they did not seem to have seen Luna’s complete alteration. She breathed a mental sigh of relief and said, “We believe our general underestimated thy skill in battle. Neither of thee art true soldiers, but thou certainly art not helpless.”
“You were quite amazing yourself, Princess,” Rarity said, still trying to level her own rapid breathing. “Why do you even need guard ponies when you are so strong yourself.”
“Strong we may be,” Luna said, again thankful she did not have to lie or dodge the question, “but we art still but one. We couldst not face, say, an entire legion. We still need our guards.”
“It was still—!” and Pinkie proceeded to act out with appropriate sound effects her interpretation of a powerful soldier pony.
“We art glad thou find us admirable,” Luna cracked a smile. “But we must continue. We art near the—!” All of them let out an unexpected yelp as they were thrown onto their sides. Aurora’s vessel had jolted into action, its thrusters firing their strongest burst simultaneously. It was preparing to meet Celestia’s regrouped army once again. “Come!” Luna ordered with greater urgency than she had previously displayed. “If we art swift enough, we shalt lessen the casualties of this second engagement.” Her two companions nodded, firm looks on their faces as they galloped after her, around a corner and toward the final winding staircase into the fifth deck.
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“Idiot,” Spearhead muttered as he smashed a slow Changeling’s head into a brass plate on the wall. He had personally lost count of the number of Changelings he had left sprawled, twitching in pain, throughout the four decks above him. In his mind, Aurora was either incredibly dense from a strategic standpoint or she was... well, to be exact he did not think she was anything other than strategically dense. Judging by his and Applejack’s encounters with Changeling defenders thus far, she had organized the forces still aboard the ship (which he was beginning to think was a fraction of those deployed on the ground) into patrols of two sizes: four and seven. The few defended positions they had had the misfortune to come across had been easily overcome with simple coordinated teamwork, and Spearhead was gradually becoming more impressed with Applejack than with most of his subordinates who had been in the Night Guard for three years.
He could not, however, ignore Aurora’s choice of soldiers. If nothing else, the Changelings they had fought were highly disciplined and worked with more uniformity than any guard regiment. Without his magic to provide even limited shielding, both he and Applejack had suffered some significant injury. He had been bruised heavily on both flanks, making walking a pain, and had also suffered a long, though thankfully shallow, gash along his right side. He believed Applejack was faring worse than him, but she was holding her composure better than any civilian in a war situation he had ever seen. Her legs were all heavily criss-crossed by bleeding cuts, many of which would scar he knew, and she was still holding shut one eye. Spearhead had not made mention of it due to the possibility of saving it, but he knew it was likely doctors would remove it.
“I’m glad there ain’t bee no ponies fightin’ us,” Applejack spoke up randomly as they walked through the halls, looking for anything that might indicate the entrance to the engine room. “Sure, we’ve had ta deal with Changelin’s and them dang turrets, but I don’ think I could fight otha ponies.”
“Since she’s had to keep the Changelings around the ship, she’s probably using them for ranged combat,” Spearhead replied tonelessly.
“Yeah,” Applejack said, “but I’m still glad I don’ have ta fight ‘em.”
“You don’t feel it’s wrong to fight Changelings then?” Spearhead asked, feeling himself descending into a conversation he had had with one too many guard recruits.
“Well, no,” Applejack replied. “It’s different when it ain’t yer own kind.”
“It shouldn’t,” Spearhead replied crossly. “War is war, and even if it’s inevitable or necessary, it’s a bucking awful thing. Never think fighting is different just because you’re not fighting other ponies.”
“Aw, no, I didn’ mean it like tha’,” Applejack amended. “I ain’t thrilled ‘bout havin’ to fight ‘em anymore than anypony, ‘specially thinkin’ ‘bout why they’re havin’ ta fight. I jus’ don’ think I’d be able to follow through ‘gainst another pony.”
“Well, at least you don’t use those stupid definitives like all the soldiers back in Canterlot,” Spearhead said. “Drives me crazy to no end when they say ‘never’ or ‘always’.”
Applejack chuckled, “Well, my brother used ta be like that until Nightmare Moon came back.”
“I think I know him—! HA HA! YES! BUCKING YES!” Spearhead bellowed out his own interruption as he and Applejack were thrown off their hooves as the House of a Thousand Fangs surged forward.
“What the hay? I don’ get it?” Applejack grunted, standing back up.
“Listen!” Spearhead said excitedly, and with her silence, a distinctive hum could be heard echoing throughout the fifth deck. “That’s magic, and lot’s of it. She’s going to lead us right to those bucking engines.”
“But it’s comin’ from everywhere,” Applejack replied, head moving in an attempt to find the source of the perpetuating vibration. “It ain’t doin’ much leadin’ if we can’t even tell where exactly it’s comin’ from.”
“Just follow me,” Spearhead said, setting off in a aggressive trot. “As Her Majesty’s guard captain, I’ve tracked more subtle magic trails than this. Just watch our backs.”
“I dunno...! I got three sets of hoofsteps aboves us!” Applejack warned.
“Then be extra quiet!” Spearhead hissed. “If they don’t know we’re down here, they won’t come looking.” His comment was followed by a second tremor rocking the halls of the ship. Countless smaller concussive starts rapped the exterior, most of their force lost by the time they had reached Applejack and Spearhead. “She’s back in combat,” the older general muttered to himself. To Applejack he added, “Screw guard duty. Start shoving your hooves on the walls for a door. If we don’t move faster, Princess Celestia’s armies might destroy the engines from the outside; and I’d rather not find out if that causes the ship to explode or not.”
“Got it,” AJ answered, immediately swiping at various portions of the wall with all four legs at speeds only attainable from bucking apple trees at the height of the harvest season. For his part, Spearhead took a more measured approach, using his ears to listen for breaks in the humming’s intensity. He knew there were four engine rooms and that they were each larger than some banquet halls. But just as well, he also was aware that the rooms would be distinct. That said, he theorized the walls separating each room ought to cause a change, however miniscule, in the acoustics. His plan was a fool proof one exempting outside influences, but as was his experience, outside influences delighted in absolutely wrecking fool proof plans. The crash of battle both from and against the House of a Thousand Fangs was generating an uneven din that served to effectively block any difference Spearhead’s ears could pick up on. He growled in frustration, stamping a hoof against the floor.
“Holy... bucking... apples...” Applejack’s near whispered awe somehow penetrated the consuming noise around them. “I think I found it!” she shouted more clearly, though Spearhead was already running to investigate. Upon looking into the door Applejack had opened, Spearhead could not deny she had indeed found one of the engine rooms.
“Well get your flank moving!” Spearhead shouted at the still stunned Applejack, bumping her onto the catwalk/stairs leading down onto the floor. “We don’t have time to stare!”
“I know! I know!” she protested as she trotted as fast as she was able without tripping over her own hooves. “It’s jus’, when Twi said it was big... I didn’ think she meant this big.”
“Canterlot Hall is bigger,” Spearhead retorted shortly. “Now get on that second console, and we’ll see if we can’t figure out how to shut these things down.” He stood stark and tense before the first console and just as Twilight had instructed, tapped a forehoof against the small panel in the floor. To him, the grating gears and whining sound of the emerging pedestal and forthcoming magic was not so clear as Celestia’s student had described, but he attributed that to more of the outside battle than his own hearing. In a flash of light, the magical diagram of the engine layout appeared as though it were a hologram. Rather than inspect more closely the individual Devices providing the after-burn thrust, Spearhead opted for a more detailed map of the centralizing channels. It would, after all, be more advantageous for them if there was a master disconnect for each of the Device clusters. A simple brush of his hoof against the upper portion of the diagram expanded that portion, certain areas giving off a greater light and accentuated by text in an alphabet Spearhead did not recognize.
“I can’t read nothin’,” Applejack called to him from her console, worried. “It’s in all these funky letters. Are these even letters?” Spearhead said nothing in reply. When he had at first decided to become a Royal Guard (at the time for Princess Celestia), part of the training had involved exposure to foreign cultures in case of traveling with the princess on a political trip. Other languages and rune sets were the surest barrier to understanding a different race, but Spearhead had found that simple things like instructions and yes or no answers could be interpreted with relatively little difficulty if one only looked carefully enough at other details.
His assumption was not wrong, for even though the design was completely original and the runes used for instruction alien, placement and length revealed all that he needed to know. “Filly, there should be a group of eight latches around the central pipe. They’ll be in sets of four and if I’m guessing right, unlocking all eight should drop a connective ring out of the pipe. That should cut the flow of magic.”
“Right, hang on for jus’ a second,” Applejack nodded, squeezing around the backside of one of the Device clusters. “Well, I thank I can see what yer talkin’ ‘bout. But they’re too high up fer me ta reach.”
“Get out of there then,” Spearhead grunted. “Give me some time to... think... Out of the way, filly!” Without waiting to be sure Applejack had backpedaled away from the Devices, Spearhead frantically worked to unhook one of the magic machines from its cluster. Upon being freed, the weighted brass instrument dropped to the floor with a hollow thud.
“Watcha got in mind?” Applejack queried, glancing from the Device to Spearhead and back to the Device. “Anything I can do ta help?”
“Watch the entrance,” he replied. “There’s no way something as important as an engine part coming undone’ll go unnoticed.” Applejack did as she was told, giving Spearhead the time he needed to pry open the access plate. The interior housed no channels like Spearhead had been hoping, instead playing host to at least a dozen power storage spheres. His intention had been to completely melt the central pipe with the thrust Device, but it seemed the channels which produced the thrust were housed in the piping itself, thus rendering each cluster one massive Device which required all individual parts to function. In a mad scramble for some form of inspiration, Spearhead’s mind leapt back to his colthood school days and the one thing that was continually stressed to young unicorns. Magic, raw magic, was a unifying force. There had been other implications about morality that they always stressed afterward, but the principle itself was sound and a foundation for magic theory and law. And for once, theory and law, not experience, were giving him the answer to his predicament.
“Filly,” he said, “I’ve got power here, and I’ll need your help to use it.”
“Uh, tha’ don’ look like it’ll be doin’ much,” Applejack glanced behind her.
“Of course it won’t. Not by itself,” Spearhead snapped impatiently. “All it needs is direction, and I’m going to give it. If I remember my elementary teachers right, the magic will respond to my own and take it’s place since I can’t use it.”
“Ya need me ta hold it somewhere,” Applejack guessed, prying out one of the spheres.
“Tip of my horn,” Spearhead replied. Handling the sphere as though it were a bomb capable of detonating at any random moment, Applejack let the sphere ever so slightly touch the end of Spearhead’s horn. The general’s eyes narrowed and he drew in a deep breath. Applejack almost yelped when the sphere began to vibrate violently, and she thought she had dropped it. Her hoof definitely yanked back; only, the sphere remained where she had held it, levitating under its own power and washing both itself and Spearhead’s horn in a clear, magical aura. Before she could completely comprehend how Spearhead was using magic despite Aurora’s fields, similar warping glows appeared around each of the latches Spearhead had found. The stallion’s eyes twitched and in response, the locks all simultaneously flipped open, dropping a narrow portions of the piping onto the floor and utterly silencing the pervading hum the Devices had previously been generating. “One down and three to go,” Spearhead said, his voice now colored with that air of a warrior and commander confident in victory.
“The bigger they are, the harder they fall,” Applejack agreed.
“And this ship is big if nothing else,” Spearhead nodded, the two of them ascending the stairs, Spearhead still connected to the power sphere.
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Another Changeling galloped away, screeching and hollering what were no doubt curses in his native tongue. Princess Luna and Rarity loosed magic from their horns at him again, the blue beams singing his retreating carapace. Behind them, Pinkie Pie flung herself like the crazy mare she was, her hooves crunching against their numerous Changeling opponents almost rhythmically. As Luna had predicted, upon coming closer to the Devices generating the magic inhibition field, the effects had lessened. Now so near their goal, both she and Rarity had recovered rudimentary control over their latent unicorn powers. They could not direct their magic into anything specific like levitation, but they possessed enough control to dredge up a basic stinging bolt. It was not particularly damaging, but it did provide a mode by which to fight at range: a skill which was becoming more necessary the closer they moved toward the Devices.
It had not taken long for Aurora to see their intention, and as such, they were no longer running up against standard patrols. Whole Changeling squadrons were being redirected to their location, many laden with defensive turrets. These Pinkie proved to expert in evading, her erratic movements impossible for the gun teams to predict. On the other hoof, Luna and Rarity had rapidly learned to use their magic bolts to halt squadrons before becoming engaged in a close-quarters brawl. Rather than hurl random shots that truly had little offensive power, both mares aimed for the Changelings’ eye plates. The shields were defensive chitin, and thus the bolts did little actual damage, but the flash of the magic was more than effective as a disorienting burst of light. Left so muddled, subduing whole Changeling squadrons became far more feasible.
Still, their telepathic connection to one another meant they were adapting to the trick. Rarity groaned as she funneled yet another bolt from her horn, striking the back of the fleeing Changeling’s neck. She hit something important, for the soldier tripped awkwardly before collapsing in an unmoving heap. “Well placed, Rarity,” Luna commended her, turning her head back to see Pinkie smack a hoof atop the last of her foes’ heads. “Remind us to never get into a fight with thee, Pinkie Pie.”
“I’m not that good,” Pinkie shrugged. “For some reason, these silly Changelings just won’t try to defend themselves.”
“No, Pinkie, we assure thee that thou art more potent a combatant than thou realize,” Luna insisted.
“Princess... I,” Rarity tried saying only to end with a startled wince. Both Pinkie and Luna’s heads jerked around to her, watching as she drew a hoof away from her left flank. It was a hoof coated in a thin layer of blood. “Oh... oh...” Rarity began to hyperventilate upon seeing the blood spattered over her normally pristine white coat. “I... how bad is it?” She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes tight, not willing to inspect the injury herself.
“How couldst thou have not felt this thy injury?” Luna asked her, bewildered. The damage to her flank was a severe burn having peeled away the first two layers of skin, leaving flesh exposed to the air and blood free to run out in rivulets. It covered the side of her haunch and even extended up slightly to her stomach area. Luna had seen many wounds of the type before, a product of instinctual defensive reactions in cornered unicorns using only the most rudimentary forms of magic. Only in this instance, such crude magic was all that was possessed by the Changelings and themselves.
“I’m not quite sure, Princess,” Rarity winced, “but I certainly... ow!... feel it now. It burns horribly.”
“Well you’re taking it really well, Rarity,” Pinkie said comfortingly. “If it were me, I’d probably be running around screaming like a mad pony.”
“If thy wound were anything remotely similar to this,” Luna said seriously, “we doubt thou wouldst be walking, much less running. Lie down Rarity. Attempting to move wilt only worsen the damage.”
“I will not, Princess,” Rarity replied, defiant. “Taking a leaf out of Rainbow Dash’s book, however rare that is, we are all in this together and will not survive without each other.”
“We admire thy nobility, but practicality must take precedence here,” Luna smiled. “We shalt have Lady Pie stay with thee to protect against any Changelings that may come thy way. We know she wilt do an admirable job.”
“You can count on me, Princess Luna!” Pinkie affirmed happily. “If any Changeling tries to hurt Rarity, I’ll make ‘em wish they’d learned how to turn that frown upside down when they were fillies!”
“Thou needest not worry on our account,” Luna said to Rarity when she would have protested Luna going on alone. “We art an alicorn and capable of handling ourselves quite well.” Without giving either of them any greater chance to attempt to convince her otherwise, Luna wheeled around and set off down the hall at an impressive gallop. The Device casting the dampening field was close, and she could almost feel her horn anticipating being able to use fully fledged magic once again. As she flung her head from side to side as she ran, her horn flared with significantly less magic inhibition, and only a few steps backward pointed her toward the false wall which blocked her entrance. Not intending to waste time with another possibly sealed door, Luna allowed her full powers to blossom within her. Her eyes changed, altering hue and flowing power running from them while her mane became a greater extension of her will. Slicing it into multiple thin vines, Luna directed her power into the cracks into the wood; and with a single tug of her mind, splintered the door into thousands of tiny fragments.
No Changelings or other of Aurora’s inventions greeted her as she brushed wood chips aside from beneath her hooves. Her multi-colored eyes scanned the rather blank room in a clean sweep. It was devoid of any adornment save two objects which rested at its center. The first was an arrangement of Devices looking quite like five flowers stacked one atop the other with the Devices as the petals. The center of the uppermost flower was composed of a single nozzle perpetually unleashing what appeared to be a volatile beam of harsh gold magic. Occasionally a burst of green would interrupt the flow, but it did seem a detriment to its functioning. The second object was firmly attached to the ceiling of the room. It was a ten pointed star of sorts, with its edges tapering off into the ceiling itself and the center a receiving nozzle for the gold magic.
In the span of only a few seconds, several options of disassembly presented themselves, but she settled on the least destructive and possibly safest option. It had been eons since she had allowed her true power as an alicorn to surface and as she once again frayed her mane into dexterous tendrils in a less frenzied environment, she relished in the fact that skill had not deserted her. As per her mental instruction, each band of her mane proceeded to unlatch the Devices from the central casting nozzle, and with every one removed, the central beam lessened in its intensity and her connection with magic was gradually restored. At last, the final Device was removed and the beam disintegrated entirely. Now with magic once again at her disposal, Luna retreated her latent power within herself and began to retrace her steps to Pinkie and Rarity. Teleporting down to a hospital was more suicidal than staying aboard the ship at this point, but Rarity would still need what little medical knowledge and magic Luna could lend to her burn.
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“Hold!” Chrysalis ordered. Rainbow skidded to a halt, glancing back to the queen in perplexity.
“What’s up? You feelin’ something I can’t?” she asked.
“Quiet!” Chrysalis growled, eyes roving everywhere without looking at anything. “If I am not mistaken... No, I was right!” Her face became considerably brighter and she took in a large, contented breath.
“Gonna cue me in anytime soon?” Rainbow asked, no qualms about showing her displeasure at being left in the dark.
“I believe Aurora was forced to improvise her control over my Children,” Chrysalis explained. “I felt some of the interference fall away when the barrier around Ponyville was destroyed, but I only thought it was a result of a power differential at the time. I was wrong. I can feel my magic again, but I can also hear the thoughts of my subjects.”
“So what does that mean? Aside from my awesome wings coming back to the party, I mean?” Dash questioned Chrysalis, flexing her wings experimentally with a confident smirk on her face.
“That the interference I am experiencing was a layered effect,” Chrysalis explained impatiently. “It was achieved by building it into fields already in place. By eliminating this final barrier, we ought to be taking out something else rather critical to the ship’s functioning.”
“Aww, yeah,” Rainbow jumped into the air to hover. “This just makes things even better for us.”
“And more dangerous,” Chrysalis cautioned, now walking as opposed to running. “If my magic is restored to me, it means all of my Children now possess their offensive powers as well.”
“Chill,” Rainbow said. “I can outfly any old spell any day. They’ll never know what hit ‘em.”
“Stop!” Chrysalis exclaimed. “Rainbow Dash, stop!”
“What? There’s no Changeling’s anywhere around and we’ve done just fine up until now,” Rainbow passed her comment off. “Honestly, you might not wanna use that—AWW HAY!” She yelled vehemently as a Changeling tackled her onto the ground and close to two dozen more burst from hidden maintenance hatches near the ceiling. Chrysalis growled unintelligibly, dropping herself into a portal before her former subjects could close the gap.
“I know you can hear me Chrysalis!” every one of the Changelings said in their own unique voices. “Abandon this mission against me and turn your energy against our common foe.”
“Don’t listen to her, Chrysalis!” Rainbow shouted, wrestling her attacker off and knocking him into unconsciousness. “Princess Celestia doesn’t—Agh!” She yanked her foreleg away from a Changeling who had dived to upend her and brought both her forehooves down on his head.
“Equestria is nothing without Celestia! Reliance of such a kind is abhorrent!” the Changeling’s collectively bellowed Aurora’s words. They retreated from Rainbow for but a moment, regrouping into a far more formidable column. Just as she was about to rocket at them, the world behind Dash was lit with brilliant green light and joined by Chrysalis’s furious voice.
“It is called faith, you hag!” she thundered. “And it is the most admirable of traits!” With so powered a statement, Chrysalis stepped around Rainbow, lowering her lit horn. As a chittering mass, the Changeling column charged only to be met by a funnel shaped blast of crackling magic from Chrysalis. It engulfed them, throwing their limp, dazed bodies to the side like unwanted toys. Chrysalis raised herself back to her full height, allowing the magic to recede from her horn as she took a long, calming breath. “Aurora is becoming more reckless, the closer we get to stopping her,” she said.
“Come on, we’re not just close,” Rainbow said, struggling oddly with her own, normally well-paced, intakes of air. “Now that we’ve all got our wings and magic back, she’s got nothin’ on us.”
“Are you unhurt?” Chrysalis asked. “I sensed one Changeling’s brief euphoria at striking you before you subdued him.”
“I didn’t think any of them got me,” Dash replied, worried as she began checking over her body for any serious injuries. She was twisting around to check her sides when the dizziness tilted her world in bizarre ways. She blinked her eyes and shook her head, but nothing was averting it. It was like only one other thing she had ever experienced and that not so long ago. With a sense of rapidly blurring dread, she looked down at her leg the Changeling had lunged for. No, that sharp pinch of pain had not been his legs catching her own. That had been his fangs puncturing her skin. It had happened again. “Bit...” was all Dash managed to say to Chrysalis. “Like before.” The queen—her queen—swore something as Dash’s senses all but deserted her and blackness and the roughness of the wood became all that she could distinctly feel.
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Twilight and Fluttershy emerged once more into the artificial light of the halls of the House of a Thousand Fangs. Rather than go directly to Aurora by the corridors, Inky Jay was leading them through the maintenance shafts that crisscrossed the ship. The narrow spaces were filled with cold brass shined so bright it reflected any of the little light which streamed in from the deck above into hundreds of miniature pinpricks. Even so, the reflections of the many miles of brass channels running on their every side gave no true light, and the still darkness was unnerving at the very least.
But Inky’s decision to use the cramped tunnels was not without merit. They had not run across any Changeling patrols, despite having heard their hooves and chittering both above and below them on several occasions. Taking the more surreptitious route had also allowed Fluttershy to keep most of her composure. With no Changelings barring their fangs and lunging for a death blow, she had slowly been gaining more confidence in the escapade. Twilight on the other hoof could not say the same for herself. She had not been disillusioned about the sophistication of Aurora’s machines, but seeing the engineering prowess required to keep the ship at peak efficiency had triggered in her a new respect for Aurora. Before, it had been grudging: able to acknowledge her ingenuity in her chosen field of magic but still leery of her intentions considering her general hatred of Princess Celestia. But she had never felt a fear of Aurora. She was, after all in normal unicorn terms, magically inept. Now though, seeing everything she had built and that she would take any measures necessary to defend it, she was reminded that Aurora Streak was indeed an alicorn and that with such a status came a certain fear. It was not the kind of fear that paralyzed. Rather, Twilight felt that in facing Aurora, she had to have the same mindset as when she had confronted Nightmare Moon. Cautious but aggressive; perceptive but intuitive.
Inky would try to reason with his mistress, Twilight knew, but inwardly she had already thrown away that course of action as one that would succeed. Regardless of who or what had initiated the battle, Aurora was taking advantage of the situation now to destroy Princess Celestia. And as an impassioned pony herself, Twilight knew that nothing rational would turn her aside from that opportunity.
All of these thoughts flew her as she half jumped, half fell from the maintenance shaft into the corridor. Fluttershy followed far more gracefully, her wings providing extra balance. “Um, how much farther do we have to go?” she asked Inky as he surveyed the corridor to straighten his bearings.
“One moment,” he replied shortly, eyes still roaming. “There are several stations which contain Devices that act as redirection fields for many of the ship’s functions,” he began elaborating, though it sounded more like he was attempting to clear his own thoughts. “Lady Aurora possess bangles that collect and interact with those stations. Considering we have yet to be incinerated by the Devices in the walls, she must be controlling only the essential systems and is actually at the station. There is no need for us to cross through the maintenance hatches any longer. They would only take us beyond the station.”
“You know the way then?” Twilight assumed.
“Of course,” Inky replied. He began walking away with no further speech, expecting Fluttershy and Twilight to follow.
They would have, excepting that Fluttershy asked Twilight nervously, “Um, Twilight, what is noise? Could you ask Inky please?”
“What noise?” Twilight said, swiveling her head trying to catch whatever Fluttershy was hearing. “I don’t—Wah!” Twilight grunted as her body was knocked against the floor after losing her balance. Inky and Fluttershy, being more lithe as pegasi, merely splayed their stance wider as Aurora’s fortress began to breath the life of its roaring engines once again.
“She’s on the move,” Inky said, now more urgent than before. “The armies about to confront one another again and we cannot have a second slaughter!” He rushed back to where Twilight was still trying to steady herself as the ship seemed to bank to the left, forcefully grasping her hoof and pulling her into a surer stance. “Run as fast as you can,” he said, turning and barreling away even as the hall was shaken by a severe impact somewhere outside. Inky showed no inhibition about his turns this way and opening this or that door. He was on course for one goal and knew exactly how to get there. But for Twilight, struggling to stay upright as Princess Celestia’s forces pounded ever more harshly against Aurora’s vessel, there was a distinct lack of difficulty about his decisions: as though all of them ought to have come up against some difficulty, whether it be in form of Changeling guards or a wrong turn in the maze-like corridors.
Her apprehension was put to rest as a thick, pink beam of magic sliced through the wood floor directly in front of her. She screamed, throwing herself onto her back in an effort to avoid running straight into the shower of splinters and brass piping. The sound of the blast and its cracking of the superstructure rang in Twilight’s ears for longer than she thought it should, but had faded by the time Fluttershy was fussing frantically over her. “Oh my! Twilight! Are you awake!? Twilight?”
“I’m okay,” she replied with a groan. “Are you hurt?”
“No, no, I’m fine,” Fluttershy answered, relieved.
“Can you jump?” Inky hollered at them, from the opposite side of the gap now in the floor. As the ship surged through the air, the break in its hull was sucking air from the interior like a gale louder than the spell that had created it.
“Yeah, just hold on for a second!” Twilight yelled back. To Fluttershy, she said, “Okay, you go first Fluttershy. Don’t look down through it and I’ll be right behind you.”
“Oh dear,” Fluttershy whimpered, a small squeal escaping as she neared the edge (though to her credit she followed Twilight’s advice and did not look down).
“Come on!” Inky insisted. “We have to move!”
“Oh please, Princess Celestia save me!” Fluttershy said, shutting her eyes tight and leaping over the gap. As she neared the opposite edge, Twilight took a running start and followed suit. As chance would have, they both touched down at the same time.
“Don’t stop,” Inky ordered, voice now steely despite its gravel. Twilight and Fluttershy nodded wordlessly and began their gallop after him. More hallways and hidden entrances later, the battle had escalated even above its initial peak. Unicorn spells from below thudded menacingly against the ship and Aurora’s guns would reply in deeper kind. The screams of dying pegasi and hisses of slain Changelings offered a brutal, sickening backdrop that penetrated the battle whenever there seemed to be a lull in the magic volleys. Such lulls were never long enough for Twilight to truly be able to listen to the cries of dead, but they existed nonetheless and served to constantly remind her of the utter destruction happening beneath her hooves. In truth, she was glad she had something to concentrate upon, something to do, else she feared she would vomit from the savagery of it all.
“We’re close,” Inky said just loud enough for her to hear. “The door to the central command station is at the end of the hall on our next left.” Twilight shook her head in understanding, knowing Inky would see it. At the moment, she was too concentrated on her higher breath rate. All three of them tore around the corner and would have kept running as hard as they had been if Inky had not shouted terrified gibberish and skidded back around, leaving no doubt Twilight and Fluttershy were to follow. Her friend immediately snapped after Inky, not even bothering to inquire why, but Twilight’s curiosity kept her head straight ahead just long enough to see what had caused Inky Jay to turn tail hollering nonsense.
Two Changelings stood in the hall, their backs facing Twilight. That was all: two lone Changelings. But when their heads shifted in her direction and their bodies rotated to face her, she understood Inky’s reaction. Advancing on her were creatures of nightmares only soldiers could dream. From the base of their skulls to the end of their tailbone was laid a spine made of brass, their green blood dried around the edges where it had been forcefully attached. Their manes had been completely sliced away, the wound still dripping onto the floor, to make room for seven sets of brass wires traveling from the top of the spine to a plate riddled with gems of varying colors. Said plate had been crudely anchored inside a gouged eye socket, dried blood again ringing the edges. The sight of the monstrosities froze Twilight in her own body, unable to move, unable to scream. And she could not avoid observing more of their additions. Strapped around their torso and connected to the brass spine was a ring mounting two stripped down Devices: one on either side. The Devices only added to the horror of the creatures. Without the casings, the twisted channels appeared to be horrid artificial blood vessels forcefully ripped out of the Changelings’ bodies and placed outside.
“Twilight! Oh no!” Twilight barely registered somepony calling her name. She could not move as the Changelings began moving toward her faster, the Devices adjusting their angle to always be directed at her. Their sound seemed to have replaced the Changelings’ chittering: a horrid clicking like a clock ticking irregularly and far too fast. “Twilight! What are you doin—AHHHHHHHH!” Fluttershy could not help but scream as she tried to pull Twilight back only to see the mutilated Changelings.
Her friend’s scream jolted Twilight back into her body, and grabbing Fluttershy, she hurled them both around the corner. Their tails had only just disappeared from the Changelings’ line of sight when Device whines sounded through the corridor, proceeded by a withering barrage of turquoise, black laced magic. Twilight winced as the spells sparked and flickered against the opposite wall, the Changelings’ images and her close escape from certain death playing endlessly in her mind. “That would explain the lack of defensive turrets,” Inky muttered.
“What… What did she do to them?” Twilight manage to ask, her disgust coating her words.
“Be glad she rushed it,” Inky replied, eyes watching intently for if the Changelings would venture outside the hall they guarded. When their deformed heads did not edge out, he continued, “Those are augmentation harnesses, and that is unfortunately all I know. She was still experimenting when we arrived here and only had three sets with which she was satisfied. She had not begun extensive testing, ergo I had taken no notes on them and know very little.”
“Their… their eyes,” Fluttershy whispered in horror. “She took one of their eyes…”
“What do you mean? I only saw the spine,” Inky asked perplexed.
“She’s gouged out an eye and jammed some horrid brass plate with little gems in it in the socket,” Twilight replied angrily, that being the only way she could keep composure and still describe the monsters.
“That would be how she is commanding them more directly with her bangles,” Inky said, “and as such, it is that which we must destroy.”
“Okay then, Inky,” Twilight spat, “you go around the corner and try to get that close to them! We need to... wait… do you feel that?” Her voice had gone from biting sarcasm to genuine curiosity.
“Feel what?” Inky asked. “There is nothing…” He stopped himself, gingerly stretching out his wings as though they were some dangerous animal that might bite him at any moment. Twilight was ahead of him, delving deep into her magic reservoir and finding that her connection to it was restored. Restored. She was a unicorn in full once again and Princess Luna, Rarity, and Pinkie had succeeded. The odds had tilted in their favor and Twilight was not about to waste time that could reverse that trend. She lit her horn, dredging up magical power of the magnitude she had used against the Ursa Minor. Her magic screaming for release, Twilight loosed her spell. Six comets of lavender light burst from her horn, sweeping around the corner with elegant purpose. All three of them heard the Changelings’ augmentations clicking in response to the new threat, and in short order, turquoise light flared from the hall followed by a shower of violet sparks.
“Behind!” Inky warned, whirling in the direction they had come defensively. Twilight glanced back to see two squads of three Changelings advancing on them in a fierce gallop.
“Can you distract them for me?” Twilight asked him. “I need time to build a spell they can’t counter!”
“That will depend,” Inky replied, stretching his wings experimentally as the Changelings continued their charge. “How much time will you need?”
“Get me five minutes,” Twilight said.
“Done,” Inky answered firmly before launching into the little space above Twilight’s head. Now equally armed with their own offensive magic, the six approaching Changelings aimed their own green bolts at Inky. Twilight only watched him long enough to see him barrel to the side and down into their midst with much shocked hissing.
“Fluttershy! Help Inky! He won’t be able to take on six Changelings alone!” Twilight ordered, closing her eyes tight as she began to recall various spells, disassemble them, and recombine their various elements.
“O… Okay, I’ll try,” Fluttershy replied. “Um, hi…” Twilight heard her say meekly.
She would have yelled at Fluttershy in frustration had not Inky’s voice grunted, “Thanks,” in response and a crunch of a Changeling’s face being pummeled followed. Now at least somewhat confident she had the time she needed, Twilight re-submerged herself in her difficult exercise. Casting a spell was simple, since most unicorns had not trouble with a plethora of basic skills like levitation. Even understanding the mechanics of magic and spell casting was not difficult if one could set one’s mind on learning them. The truly strenuous aspect of magic, and one Princess Celestia had been impressing upon Twilight for close to three years now, was spell deconstruction and reconstruction: the ability to understand a spell so completely as to be able to isolate its individual components and add them to other components to build a spell with completely new properties.
Thankfully, Twilight need not go that far. A stun spell would work just as well on the mutilated Changelings as it would on normal ones. The trick would be getting them past the Device cannons they wielded. Meticulously, Twilight recalled multiple spells from her memory, taking an aversion directive from one, a deflection barrier from another, and an erratic motion imperative from a third. These elements she purposed to add to her basic stun beam, an arduous task as the stun spell was so basic as to have few points of exposure that would allow additives. She groaned and winced as she grappled with the forced combination. Only when she felt the rigged spell was prepared did her sense open again to the world. She wished they had not.
Fluttershy was all but crying from some injury to her wing, judging by the way she was huddled in a corner cradling it. Inky was still battling two of the Changelings, his fur not matted by blood from multiple scrape wounds. And Twilight herself could only yell out in pain at every movement. The spell she had managed to cobble together was highly unstable and every step she took produced a wracking stab of pain in her head. But she pushed forward. She pushed on because she could hear the rumble of the ship’s engines and the immense blasts of its canon fire. She knew it had to be stopped and Aurora controlled that.
Each step forward was agonizing, and with that pain, she gained more determination to push past it. A smirk of confidence appeared on her face when she reached the hall, facing the two horribly deformed Changelings once again. “Watch a true magician at work,” she said under her breath, hoping Aurora could hear. But before she could release her pent up spell, a faint buzz sounded past her ears and a dull thump sounded in the wall behind her. She had no time to register just what the Changelings before her had done. Twilight cried out in shock and pain as she was slammed away from her opponent and the spell died on her horn. She rolled uncontrolled for a brief few seconds, and when she finally stopped and was able to brush her mane out of her eyes, the world seemed to freeze.
Inky stood where she had been, eyes locked with her own and wings still open from his dash to push her away. Embedded in the wall behind next to him were the weapons meant to destroy her: Device grenades identical to those Inky had used in the bagel shop. His eyes closed in silent acceptance, and Twilight could only scream denial as the timers ended.
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White. Even behind his closed eyelids, the world became a blinding white nothingness. The sheer power of the detonation obliterated its own sound. But the agony remained. That Inky still felt. His hooves were lifted off the ground for him, throwing him like a rag doll several merciless feet. Heat gripped his side and metal, wood, and concussive force tore at his body. He only felt the beginnings of the anguish before he lost his grip on consciousness.
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Fire and shards of Device and wood planks engulfed Inky and drowned away Twilight’s scream. She could feel raw fury building in her. In some dark corner of her mind, she had just witnessed Aurora murder the one pony who was utterly devoted to her; betray him without a second’s hesitation. The rage within her burst out, raising her to her hooves, and reigniting her earlier concocted spell without an iota of difficulty. She blasted it through the corner separating her and the Changelings, watching as it twisted and curved to dodge their counter spells. The satisfaction she had expected to receive upon seeing them fall never came. Instead, as their limp bodies collapsed with the clanging of the brass and her anger drained away, Twilight could only feel dread.
Now without any explosions, magic, or combatants to fill the hall of the House of a Thousand Fangs with their noise, all that could be heard was the gentle patter of water as it fell from numerous mangled Devices atop the pile of wood that had once been a wall. Twilight gingerly made her way to what was now Inky’s grave, wincing as bruises over her side protested the motion. Drawing nearer, the water began to fall on her as well, plastering her dirt-filled mane to her body. She was not sure why she began to do it, or even why she continued, but she gradually pulled away the wood beams and chunks of brass. Something inside protested that a need to see Inky’s corpse was morbid, but her emotions won out. She needed closure about his death just like anypony needed it.
She nearly dropped a beam she had been tugging aside when it revealed Inky’s broken body… still breathing. She was certain it was a play of the water falling in her eyes. Nopony should have been able to survive an explosion like that. But as she looked, she realized Inky had not truly survived the explosion. He was lying in a pool of his own blood sickeningly diluted with water, thousands of splinters of varying sizes riddling his side. And so coated in blood was his exposed side, that Twilight did not at first see that his wing was missing. Not even a stump was left. The explosion had ripped it away and incinerated it, leaving him to bleed out through the grievous wound. And yet he still lived. “Fluttershy…” Twilight whispered.
“Oh Twilight!” Fluttershy was crying. “He died! Why did he do that!? You could have made a shield right?!”
“I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “But he’s not dead, not yet.” Fluttershy yelped upon seeing him, her hooves going to her mouth in shock.
“Is there anything we can… I mean, can he… can we save him?” she asked.
“No,” Twilight answered solemnly. “He’s already lost too much blood.” The two mares watched his barely visible breaths, unable to leave until they knew he was truly gone. Fluttershy moved over and gripped Twilight over the shoulder, and though Twilight knew she meant well, her attempt to hold back tears only became more difficult.
“Twi…light… Spar…kle…” the voice was broken, scratchy, and beyond weak, but it was undeniably Inky’s own. Only a single eye was open, the one lying closest the floor, and it was wandering frantically trying to find another conscious soul. Twilight unsteadily knelt down where he could see her. She had never talked with somepony in the last throws of life. Inky’s eye closed and opened methodically upon seeing her. “I am dying,” he managed to say.
“Yes, you are,” Twilight replied, doing her best to hold her composure for his sake. She could imagine how he would berate her for crying over his death. “Do your hurt?”
“I… barely conscious,” he heaved. “Can’t feel much… of…anything.”
“That’s good,” Twilight tried to sound optimistic.
“I made a promise… to myself,” Inky said, “to not… be… afraid of death. Now… that I am… close again… I fear it even more… I don’t believe… we can ever… not fear it… after all.” Twilight was not exactly sure how to respond, instead occupying herself with a spell stemming the flow of blood out his wingless side. “Don’t… waste…energy… on me!” Inky tried to growl in protest. “Aurora… save her… save her from… herself…” He might have said more, but strength failed him, and he drifted into unconsciousness again. For what seemed like hours, Twilight could only stare at his limp body as it’s breathing slowly became more and more shallow. She wanted to cry, to vent... anything, something! But nothing seemed adequate. Nopony would understand.
“At least it will happen… when he’s… sleeping,” Fluttershy said, jolting Twilight out of her conflicted thoughts.
“He’s right though,” Twilight murmured to her herself. “Nopony else knows where we are in this ship.” Turning to Fluttershy she said, “Stay here with him. I don’t want him to die alone, and you’re injured anyway.”
“Be careful, Twilight,” Fluttershy implored her. “Nopony wants you to die too.”
“I will. And I won’t die. Not because of her,” Twilight said, standing and marching into the hall that lead to the one thing that would be resolution for them all, for better or worse.
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A second, much smaller hall that was more or less a buffer allowed Twilight access to a second gateway. Behind it would be Aurora and whatever machinations she had in store for anypony able to threaten her personally. Twilight slid it to the side without any second-thoughts, Inky’s dying body still fresh in her mind and driving her beyond whatever caution she may have normally held. The chamber she entered was markedly distinct from every other place she had been on the ship. It was a clear place of command, shaped like the interior of a dome and with a circular dias at its center surrounded by perfectly molded circular steps. Atop the raised platform stood an imperious Aurora Streak, Devices displaying various images of the destroyed Ponyville on her every side. Aurora herself was armored with one her augmentation arrays, the part shoved into the Changelings’ eye sockets merely resting over her own. All the same, it all combined to give her a crazed, non-pony look; which Twilight reasoned was probably more to her liking anyway.
“Twilight Sparkle,” she said, enunciating every stress. “For once, I am not exactly sure how I ought to speak to you.”
“Go to Tartarus, murderer,” Twilight growled, in no mood to banter words with Aurora.
“Well, that at least gives me something,” she said, ignoring the hostility in Twilight’s insult. “I had truly thought I had convinced you of the injustices gone unattended under Celestia’s rule. It would appear though, that you are no better than the dead below.”
“How dare you just talk about the ponies you’ve killed like they are nothing!” Twilight burst out.
“Because they are nothing!” Aurora spat back. “Those that would pursue ignorance over enlightenment are but a blight upon society! They deserve nothing better than to be slain to give greater credence to intelligence and truth!”
“I was right all along!” Twilight shouted. “You are a monster. A horrid, sick, incurable MONSTER!” Unable to hold back any longer, Twilight blasted a shatter spell at Aurora. The mare above her sidestepped slightly, and fired one of her mounted Devices, countering Twilight’s spell.
“I was right to remove the Elements from the control of the likes you!” Aurora said vehemently. “Such fools only understand what Harmony means, not what it is!”
“You don’t understand it either!” Twilight yelled, this time firing three stunning spells simultaneously. Aurora met the first with a second blast from her own Device but was forced to jump away from her dias and onto Twilight’s level to avoid the second and third.
“I built Elements!” Aurora crowed. “I understand it more than anypony in history!”
“You’re nothing but a hypocrite! You let Inky Jay die! Where’s the loyalty in that!?” Twilight fought back.
“And how loyal was he to lead you here?” Aurora replied.
“He was more loyal to you and everything you stood for than you’ll ever know,” Twilight said low. “You didn’t deserve his devotion to your cause.”
“You cannot win, Magic,” Aurora said. “If you choose to fight me I will kill you with as little hesitation as I have killed all the ones below. You cannot do as much. No matter how strongly you believe I should die, I see in your eyes the same nobility that has prevented thousands from following through with their conviction of justice.”
“Who says I have to kill you to win?” Twilight said, warping first to Aurora’s left, then right, behind, and finally front again in quick succession. “Say I can’t win again,” she said, all the fury at Aurora’s cold murder of so many ponies and Changelings giving strength to her magic. She began teleporting again, reversing the pattern she had used earlier and firing a shattering spell between each movement. Aurora’s teeth ground in concentration as she whirled her Devices at blurring speeds. Their manic clicking accentuated the ringing of Twilight’s spells as they were reflected away and blasted holes in the walls.
Now rather than use her teleportation offensively, Twilight was fleeing from a withering stream of turquoise bolts of magic. Her own shields could repel Aurora’s attack, but they were only as strong as Twilight herself, unlike the near infinite endurance of a Device. Able to find some respite behind the dias, Twilight ripped up several of the wood panels and held them together as a shield with her magic. The turquoise spell was obviously designed only to harm living things, so the wood would be the perfect shield with minimal magic required. At least, Twilight had thought it would be.
“Cease your desperation, Magic!” Aurora cried out, Twilight holding up her wood planks. The barrage of deceptively soft-hued magic was gone, replaced by a concussive blast and searing red light. Twilight was blown backward and her shield was ripped and broken into shreds that floated like paper. She gingerly tapped her face where several pieces had lodged. Tiny drops of blood were leaking out. The flurry of incinerated wood had barely settled when Aurora marched through it, advancing confidently on Twilight. She was too exhausted to teleport, and any direct attack Aurora would only counter. She needed something more indirect.
Her thoughts were interrupted as all around them, the wood of the House of a Thousand Fangs groaned and creaked as she began to list heavily to the right. Twilight took her chance as Aurora howled angrily and her bangles began to glow far more visibly as she attempted to somehow right the besieged vessel. Twilight rolled with the ship’s tilt, and in a flash of inspiration, she gripped Aurora in a telekinetic field. The elder mare screamed in protest and pain as she was rolled and bounced painfully in her armor over the now severely tilted ship’s floor. Without Aurora able to concentrate sufficiently to keep the ship airborne, the list became a full crash. The world around Twilight shuddered, groaned, and screeched as she and Aurora fell against the wall. The impact happened sooner than Twilight had thought, the forced halt of the vessel against the earth throwing Twilight to the side.
But, having anticipated much of the falling and rolling, Twilight was not as heavily bruised as the shaking Aurora. Her eyes met Twilight’s and a silent hatred passed from her in the form of two hurled Device grenades. Images of Inky shoving her away and taking the explosion himself flashed through Twilight’s mind. “NEVER AGAIN!” she screamed at Aurora, her magic grasping the grenades mid-flight and detonating their glowing, firey power within violet bubbles. Seized by the desire for retribution, Twilight hurled the spheres at Aurora’s fragile form. And for the first, satisfying time, Twilight witnessed true fear in the mare’s eyes.
The explosions released, one at either of Aurora’s sides, annihilating her armor and Devices and knocking her into unconsciousness at the force of opposing concussive blasts.
The cataclysm was over. The brutality halted. The war ended. The battle won. And all Twilight could do was fall back on her rump, and finally let the tears and sobs of exhaustion and grief flow as a ring of unnatural green fire formed behind her.