//------------------------------// // 1.7: Seer // Story: Our Little Homeworld // by Horizon Runner //------------------------------// Time: 11:00 P.M. Location: Mothership Cafeteria A-4. You learned a lot as a bartender. Not that Pinkie Pie was a bartender. She’d been a bartender, twice, back when she’d been roaming around the dunes. Younger years. She’d been too young to legally drink the stuff she sold, but that hadn’t bothered her. She rarely bothered with alcohol. Even now, it seemed like a lot of hassle for a headache and a little dizzy stint. But still, you learned a lot as a bartender. For instance, how to read people. Pinkie Pie could read every pony in the cafeteria. The mare sitting alone in the corner booth was missing her family, and the somewhat-scrawny, young stallion trying to hide the fact that he was watching her nervously from two booths away was working up the courage to talk to her. The pair of stallions sitting at a table and laughing were old friends, possibly comrades in arms, who were enjoying their last night above the planet by telling each other stories about the time they’d been apart. You learned a lot of other things as a bartender, and a lot of them were also the sorts of things you learned when you had an Auntie and Uncle Cake. It was funny how that seemed to work out. For instance, bartenders needed to know how to defend themselves in a fight. They also needed to know when to avoid defending themselves in a fight by avoiding the fight in the first place. These were things the Cakes knew well, and they’d taught their favorite little niece everything they knew. The methods included spotting trouble before it actually became trouble, spotting ponies who needed help before they actually needed help, and dealing with both with enough speed that things never got too bad. All the while, the Cakes had taught her that you should keep positive and smile. Ponies tended to trust ponies who smiled confidently, especially when things looked bad. One funny thing about that was that being a bartender—or even a faux bartender like she was now—ponies tended to trust Pinkie with their secrets anyway. A smiling bartender? Pinkie had heard all kinds of stories. The mare who was sitting at the counter and staring at a half-full cup of tea was a tug pilot who’d just saved a pony’s life, only to find out that the pony might never use her wings again. It wasn’t a story Pinkie could relate to, but the pilot had needed somepony to listen, and Pinkie had been willing. It was amazing how much that could help sometimes. She’d been crying when she came in, but now she simply stared at the tea, mind working in the mysterious ways of a thinking thing. Pinkie was content to let her think. Ponies needed to think sometimes, to sort all the sad things, the happy things, and the really weird things into their proper places. “Not my fault…” the mare muttered softly. “Really? Isn’t it, though? If I’d flown faster… if I’d been able to fly better or land faster… would it have made a difference?” Pinkie smiled and patted her hoof. “The past is the past, right? I mean, if you could do it over, maybe there’d be a difference, but probably there wouldn’t. It sounds like you did everything you could, and that’s what matters. She lived, didn’t she? You didn’t take her wings, you saved her life!” The pilot stared at her tea some more. “I guess you’re right, Pinkie.” “Of course I’m right, Ditzy.” Pinkie beamed. “You saved somepony’s life today! If anything, I should be throwing you a congratulation party! With medals! And cake! And medal-shaped cake!” “Thanks, Pinkie,” the pilot said softly. Then, she leaned over the counter and gave Pinkie a hug. Pinkie giggled and returned it. There was nothing else she needed to say. One of Ditzy’s friends showed up a little later and took her away. Before she left, Ditzy looked up at Pinkie and smiled a cross-eyed smile. That was all the reward Pinkie Pie would ever need for her efforts. After Ditzy Doo left, Pinkie went back to watching ponies. It was late evening, though it would be early morning for the night shift. Pinkie’s sleep schedule was a mystery even to herself, so she preferred to call it afternoon. In fact, she preferred to call all times afternoon, unless a time happened to strike her as particularly morning-ish or evening-ish. Night was still night, but when the lights never went out you couldn’t tell, and thus it became whatever time she needed to be. But right now was an evening-ish time. In fact, it was eerily like those evenings she’d spent back on the ground, tending bar. Of course, she sold pastries and other assorted foodstuffs now, but the principle was the same. Even without alcohol, ponies like Ditzy still came to bars to drown their woes and find absolution. And oh, there was a pony trying to drown her woes. She came through the double doors like a storm of angsty sadness. Her head drooped, and her mane skimmed the floor. She wasn’t crying, but that was because she was trying to hold it all in. Keeping all that raw emotion inside? Bad idea. Pinkie had seen firsthand what that could do to a pony. Yes! It was time for action! The mare—a pegasus, creamy-colored with a bubblegum mane and tail—took a seat at the far end of the cafeteria, and Pinkie made her move. As usual, the mare didn’t even see her coming until they were practically touching. “Hi!” Pinkie cheerily exclaimed. “How are you doing?” The mare did that funny thing some ponies did when Pinkie snuck up on them; she jumped, eyes and wings wide, and nearly fell backwards out of her chair. “O-oh!” Pinkie waited expectantly for an answer. “I… I’m doing okay.” “Really?” Pinkie asked. “Because you really don’t look like you’re okay.” “It’s… not really anything to worry about.” “Sure it is!” Pinkie pulled up a seat, much to the disturbance of this unnamed, totally-not-okay mare. “You look totally sad. That’s no good!” “There’s r-really nothing you could do.” Pinkie leaned in. “Are you sure?” The mare looked at her with a wide and trembling eyes. “I… um… I guess.” “You hesitated,” Pinkie said. “Maybe?” the mare tried. “I can’t imagine… no, you couldn’t help.” “Well, why not try? What’s there to lose?” The mare swallowed nervously and looked around as if to check if anypony was listening. “No. I can’t. I can’t tell anypony.” “Why are you so sure?” The mare seemed to collapse in on herself, pressing her chin to her chest. “Because it would makes ponies mad at me.” Pinkie smiled with all the sweetness of a pecan pie. “Well, I promise I won’t be mad.” The mare looked up, almost as if she was letting herself be hopeful. “What?” “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.” Pinkie performed the sacred gesture. “I promise!” The mare managed a wan smile. A start. “Okay, I guess… okay, I…” She swallowed, wiped her eyes on her hoof, and looked away. “No.” Pinkie cocked her head. “No?” “I can’t. You’ll be mad.” Pinkie suppressed a sigh. If this mare had been born a nut, she’d be a macadamia. “Why would I be mad?” “Because it’s wrong.” Pinkie cocked her head. “Wrong?” “Wrong,” the mare repeated. “It’s not… moral. I mean… Celestia must h-hate me for just thinking it.” Things started to come together in Pinkie’s head. “How come?” she asked, her voice softening. The mare shut her eyes as if she could just stop thinking about it. “Because it just is.” “Who told you so?” “Everypony.” “Well, everypony can be wrong sometimes,” Pinkie said. She mimed the Pinkie Promise again. “I promised I wouldn’t be mad, so I won’t.” “Okay.” The mare looked down and clasped her forehooves in her lap. “I… like a mare.” Pinkie blinked. “So?” “But… I’m a mare.” Pinkie had to think about that one for a minute. “So?” she asked again. Something about this was making a perverse kind of sense, but she really couldn’t remember why. Something about a place… “That’s… that’s not okay! I can’t… that’s not…” A light went off in Pinkie’s head. A particularly troubling barroom confession from a long time ago slipped back into her mind. “What kiith are you from?” This startled the mare. “What? Um… P-Paktu.” All the lights went off in Pinkie’s head. “Ooooooh.” “Um… what does kiith have to do with…?” “Okay, this is probably gonna surprise—no, maybe even shock you, but…” Pinkie leaned in close, motioning for the mare to do the same. The mare leaned in hesitantly, and Pinkie whispered in her ear, “Paktu is the only kiith that cares.” The mare lurched back. “What?” Pinkie nodded sagely. “They’re kinda backwards. No offense.” “Uh… I…” Pinkie’s nose suddenly scrunched up as a thought occurred to her. “Wait, is that mare me? Was that a pick-up line?” “I… what?” “Because that’s totally cool, but if you’re from Paktu… I’m gonna freak you out.” “I… I… I… I…” The mare buried her face in her hooves and began to sob. “Oh Celestia, what is my life…?” “Well, your life is what you make it,” Pinkie said—again, sagely. She was pretty sure that was a quote from some famous pony. Or some drunk guy at a bar. Probably that one. The mare’s heaving breaths seemed to alternate between laughter and sobs, a state Pinkie could sympathize with. “Hey,” she said softly, scooting her chair around the table and pulling the other mare into a hug. “It’s totally okay.” “What is okay?” “I dunno yet, but it is.” Pinkie smiled as the mare uncovered her eyes. “I’m Pinkie Pie, what’s your name?” “F-Fluttershy,” Fluttershy whimpered in a particularly Fluttershy-y way. Then hid her extremely Fluttershy-ing eyes with an exceedingly Fluttershy-ish movement. The name seemed to fit. “That’s a good name,” Pinkie said. Fluttershy shook her head. “It’s a silly name.” “No, I say it’s a good name, and I’ve heard more names than you.” “That’s probably true.” Fluttershy slowly returned to a normal sitting position. She was totally failing to hide the fact that she’d just been crying/laughing, but that was kinda okay when you were in a bar—well, cafeteria, but who was counting? Pinkie hadn’t noticed it before, maybe because she’d been more focused on how obviously this pony wasn’t okay, but Fluttershy was cute. Not I’ll follow her to the ends of the cosmos cute, but definitely the mare she hooks up with is going to be a lucky, lucky pony cute. “T-thanks, I think,” Fluttershy said. “I, um, didn’t really know that anypony thought… that was okay. I was always told Celestia condemned it.” Pinkie waved a hoof as dismissively as she could without actually dismissing Fluttershy’s legitimate concern. “Well, if she did, then I am in a lot of trouble.” Her brow furrowed as she considered the implications of that line of thought. “Or am I? I mean, does Celestia discriminate based on kiith? On individual belief? And what about if you go both ways, what then? Does she get confused? Does she just give up? Wouldn’t that be weird if Celestia just decided she wasn’t gonna bother with that? And what if you’re otherwise good, but you have that one little thing that she doesn’t like? Does she care enough for that to matter, or does she overlook it?” “...What?” Pinkie shrugged. “Eh, I guess I’ll just ask her when I die.” “…Oh.” Fluttershy shook her head. “So, you said you also liked…?” Pinkie shrugged. “I’m Manaani. We kinda go all over the place. It’s a cultural thing.” “Oh.” Fluttershy tried to hide the giggle. “I thought that was a stereotype.” Pinkie grinned. “Some of it, maybe.” “I’ve never actually met a Manaani before.” Pinkie sniffed. “Well, yeah. Paktu won’t let us in the door! It’s like they don’t want anypony mess with their perfect little society.” “It’s hardly perfect,” Fluttershy muttered. “Celestia, I feel like I’ve been living a lie.” Pinkie was suddenly thankful that there was no alcohol in reach. While it would be a perfect little cliché to have this conversation over a dozen shots of something bracing, it would probably kill poor Fluttershy. Then Fluttershy said, “Oh.” It wasn’t an “oh” of realization, or an “oh” of remembering, no, it was an “Oh”, capital O, of a deeper kind. Pinkie traced her gaze and found that she was staring at a mare whose hotness could be compared to that of a star. She had gorgeously toned muscles under a pretty blue coat, and her mane, holy sands her mane! “Wowza!” Pinkie exclaimed. “Is that dye, or is she just so awesome that her head sprouted a rainbow?” “I… oh sands, I can’t be here,” Fluttershy whimpered. She tried to stand up, but Pinkie caught her with a hoof and stopped her. Fluttershy let out a little “eep!” but stayed down. “Hang on a second,” Pinkie said in a stage whisper. “I’mma gonna test something.” She jumped up and hopped over to the counter where the rainbow-licious mare was waiting somewhat impatiently. She brightened up as Pinkie approached. “Oh, hey, are you the bartender… or whatever? Can I get a—” “Hang on just a teensy little second,” Pinkie said. “Are you gay?” “What.” Pinkie leaned in way too close while sporting her biggest grin and wiggling her brow. “Are you into the ladies?” “Uh…” Pinkie whispered right in her ear, “Do you like to fool with the fillies in the pale starlight?” The rainbow-tastic mare jumped back. “Yes! Damn, what is wrong with you?” Pinkie felt a rush of elation. It can ha~appen! She let out a giddy “tee hee!” before zooming back to Fluttershy. “Now is the time! Seize the day!” Fluttershy looked at her like she was an oncoming train. “W-w-what!?” Pinkie lifted the cringing pegasus up and half-carried her over. “Hey,” she said to the Rainbow mare. “I don’t know your name, and I don’t think this filly does either, but she totally has a major crush on you and was too scared to say anything because she was from Paktu and like a little brainwashed, I guess, but now you two are totally in the same room together, and this kind of thing doesn’t happen everyday, so I’m betting its like a cosmic thingy, so you guys should probably at least try because you’d make literally the cutest couple in history okay bye!” And then she made herself scarce. Hiding behind the counter, she watched the scene unfold. At first, it was predictably awkward. Spectrumhead scratched her mane, Fluttershy stared at the floor, and the world was totally boring for a moment too long. Then, the magic happened. “So,” Prismatastic said. “Was she just insane, or…?” “Um…” “Wow, uh, okay.” She scratched her head again. “Uh, so… wanna sit down and grab a bite?” Pinkie let out a muted, little squeal of joy. “Y-yes, that would be, um… nice.” Pinkie all but died. The multicolorous mare approached hesitantly. “Are you gonna keep hiding behind the counter, creepy?” Pinkie popped up. “Nope! So, what can I getcha?” “Uh… cupcake. Just one… er, two?” Hexachromatica glanced at Fluttershy, who gave the most timid nod possible. “Yeah, two, thanks.” Pinkie leaned forward and whispered, “What’s your name?” “Uh, Rainbow Dash. Why?” “Oh, that is so much better than all the stuff I came up with,” Pinkie mused. “Also, go easy on Fluttershy. She’s adorably awkward. Only just found out she could be gay without Celestia hating her.” Rainbow Dash blinked. “Okay, wow. What just happened in here?” “Historyyyyy!” Pinkie sang as she pulled out two cupcakes. “Have fun you two!” She propped her elbows up on the counter as Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy sat down together, her eyes swimming in happy little tears. It wasn’t every day she got a chance to help a pony with their personal problems and set up a match made in heaven. “Totally adorabawesome,” she whispered to herself. The two mares tried to start a conversation three times, each time drifting into awkward silence. Pinkie was beginning to prep for intervention, when suddenly Rainbow Dash turned to her, face reddened. “Sands on Goddess-damned fire! Are you going to just keep sitting there watching us? What is wrong with you?” Pinkie grinned. “Kiss, kiss!” she cheered. Rainbow Dash put a hoof to her face. “Oh goddesses, why?” Fluttershy giggled. “She’s not that bad.” “Oh yeah? How is she not that bad? She just… set us up, and now she’s watching us and shouting ‘kiss, kiss’!” “Well, um… she’s the only reason I talked to you today. I was so scared of… everything, and she kind of… helped me... with that.” “By throwing you in my face! Who does that?” “I don’t know,” Fluttershy admitted, blushing. “But… I appreciate it. It was worth it, to me at least.” Pinkie Pie whooped triumphantly. “Can you not? Give us some bucking privacy, you damn perv!” Rainbow Dash shook her head in disbelief. “She’s something… and… yeah, I guess we wouldn’t have talked without her.” Now it was Rainbow Dash’s turn to blush, even if she did a better job of hiding it. “I… uh… I kind of thought you were cute when we met earlier. I would have said something, but at the time, uh…” “I understand,” Fluttershy said softly. “It… was a terrible thing.” “I don’t get it at all,” Dash said. “She was fine this morning, and then she just… well, you saw what she did to herself.” Fluttershy nodded, fixing her eyes on the table and letting a frown creep across her face. “I can’t even imagine what she was thinking.” Pinkie sighed. The conversation was rolling now; she wasn’t needed anymore. She slipped away, moving to clean off a table with a flourish. She knew the voyage wouldn’t be all sunshine and rainbows—for which the couple of the day were actually a pretty good visual metaphor—but she could savor the little moments like this. She could feel it; a tingle in her left ear, then a twitch in her cheek. Love was blossoming. The world was a little brighter today. Pinkie Pie smiled. But then, she stiffened. A shock blasted through her body as her spine shook. There was something else here, something… beginning. And she knew. Her eyes widened, and her lips parted into a smile that was sincere beyond anything she’d ever given before. It was time for things to start. Time: Many years ago. Location: Somewhere far away. Somewhere deep in the desert, hundreds of miles from anywhere else, Pinkie Pie stared up at the sky and screamed. “Why?” she asked the silent stars. Somewhere behind her, home was still burning, sending plumes of fire and ash towards the heavens, scattering everything she’d ever known across the sands. Not far away, her stolen sand-sailer rested on its side, finally tipped over by the great dune she now stood atop. So it was that she screamed at Celestia. At Luna. At any god or goddess who’d hear. She asked for an answer to all the questions of the great philosophers. A reason for all the hatred and evil in the world. An explanation. Why. She didn’t receive an answer. In time, she’d come to believe that even the Goddesses could not give one, for even they did not know. But she saw a sign. Six strange symbols, outlined in the stars. They shined before her like great beacons on some distant shore. She saw them with wide eyes, and the tears stopped as the wonder that replaced them sunk into her bones. The desert wind swirled around her, whispering the secrets of the world, telling her of destinies yet unrealized, of tragedies yet to come, of victories yet to achieve. On top of that dune, lost in the midst of the great desert, Pinkie Pie found her calling. Six ponies would come together, long after that fateful night. At their first meetings, they would be strangers, but in time their paths would cross and cross again, until their threads were forever tangled. They would come together, and they would light the way to a new age of gold, a time when every stallion, mare, and foal would have their plenty. A time when all would at last return to the promised land from whence they’d come so long ago. For any other pony, this would be where the story ended. Had any other lonely soul been chosen to receive this revelation as they wandered the sands that night, they would have have bolted off to do their task, singing praises to the heavens. But Pinkie Pie was not like any other pony. She had questions yet, and she would not let them go unanswered. She reached up, grasping at the air, trying to reach the thing that spoke to her. Her hoof caught against the sky, and she tore away the veil for just the briefest instant, long enough to receive a vision. A smiling face, silhouetted against the currents of the universe, now bent into beautiful harmony. She asked, “Why me?” She heard, “You were always one of them.” She asked, “Where should I go?” She heard, “To a great ship that sails towards the stars.” She asked, “Who are you?” She heard, “That is something you already know.” And then, she was returned to those dark sands, a star falling in place as an explosion rippled across the sky. For a hundred miles around, the sky was lit with a pale blue light. Astronomers would say that a comet had entered the atmosphere and exploded. They would be wrong. In the center of a great crater, the sand all around charred to glass, Pinkie Pie lay on her back and laughed, tears streaming down her face. One life ended, and another began. From that day, she’d known she needed to find those five other ponies, to bring them together and fulfill the prophecy. She’d known that her destiny lay among the stars. Time: Now. Location: Here. Pinkie gasped for air as the memory faded, and a wide grin crossed her face. It was them. The two of them, they were part of the five. Pinkie almost ran to them and began babbling about prophecies and destiny and how happy she was that she’d finally found them after all this time, but she stopped herself. It was too early. Prophecies were tough little things, but there was always the chance she’d gum it up by telling everypony what they were going to do. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t risk that. Besides, she could see the blushes, the smiles, the unfinished sentences. They were happy, in Fluttershy’s case, perhaps for the first occasion in a really long time. So Pinkie slipped away. She switched off the lights above the counter and vanished into the Mothership’s corridors. Even she still needed to sleep. Occasionally. But as she lay in bed, she found she could not sleep. The six were here! She’d known they would be since that day in the sand, but now she could feel it. She’d found two of them already. Tomorrow, she’d search for the other three. It was going to be awesome.