This Quiet Earth

by Dafaddah

The Big Empty

Starswirl the Bearded leaned on Twilight and closed his eyes. She could feel the old pony trembling with exhaustion as he slowly sank to his haunches. She pasted a smile on her face. “I’m sure we’ll find some signs of life tomorrow, Maestro.”

The unicorn looked sadly into the distance, but kept his silence. Dark streaks from the ever present dust marred his white coat and beard, and made a mess of his famous cloak and hat. Even the little bells he favoured as trim had become clogged with grit, progressively sounding less joyful as they traveled through the day. She wondered how he could bear the garment in the oppressive heat.

“We had best rest here for the night,” he said, barely above a whisper.

Twilight nodded, relieved. The day had been hard on the legendary mage, both physically and emotionally. For hours they had trecked through areas of urban debris, the monotonous journey broken only by equally large swaths of completely barren nothingness. They had splashed across two small streams. Despite running freely, the water smelled flat and tasted metallic. However, they judged it not likely to be poisonous, and filled a canteen Starswirl had produced from underneath his wondrous cloak. Throughout it all, they found nothing new. And lots of dust, thought Twilight. She looked down at herself.

“Well, I’m a frightful mess!” she remarked.

The corners of Starswirl’s muzzle barely twitched upwards. “Princess Celestia once used a spell to clean bits of cantaloupe out of our coats...”

Twilight groaned and tried to brush her coat clean. She succeeded only in spreading the dust over broader swaths of her fur. “Right now I would do anything for that spell, and for a piece of cantaloupe.”

Without saying another word Starswirl opened the left side his cloak with a foreleg, revealing a pocket she had not noticed previously. His horn glowed and from the pocket emerged what looked like a bunch of chopsticks. The sticks unfolded into a hexagonal frame that glowed gently as he levitated it a few hoof-spans in front of his beard. Twilight’s ears twitched in surprise when he plunged a hoof into it almost to his withers and it didn’t come out of the other side. His gaze turned upwards, and after a moment his expression brightened as he pulled his foreleg back out. Balanced on his hoof was a Honeydew melon. He frowned momentarily, but then grinned tiredly as he held up his prize. “It’s not the season for cantaloupes, I guess.”

Twilight sighed and conjured up a carving knife. “I also have some camping gear magically squirreled away.”

“Good,” replied Starswirl. “The mate of my little portal frame hangs on the inside of the pantry door of my cottage near the Everfree forest.” He grinned. “We won’t starve, but I do admit, I hadn’t thought about placing any utensils within reach as well.”

Twilight's horn glowed as the knife flew to the melon and cut it into segments. Half of the resulting wedges of fruit floated in her direction. The ponies ate in silence.

“I think I know where we are, on the planet I mean,” declared Twilight while she pulled out a kerchief her camping cache, which she kept discretely beneath her left wing, and began wiping the sticky juice from her lips.

“Indeed?” Starswirl raised an eyebrow. He held out a hoof and she passed him the kerchief.

“The sun rode very low on the horizon all day. Therefore we must be close to one of the planetary poles.”

“That would make sense,” said Starswirl. He scratched the back of his head. “But on Earth the poles are places of terrible cold and ice.” He passed the napkin back. With a flash Twilight put it back into her magical cache. “Is it possible an entirely different race might have developed the same form of writing as mine?”

Twilight’s eyes widened and she grinned broadly. “In your thirty-eighth codex you talk about the multiplicity of worlds you have visited as being in completely separate universes! Otherwise the energy required to travel between them based on the laws of Neighton would be over ten orders of magnitude greater than the actual thaumic output measured by experiments you did in world-walking! Given that that is what actually happens, then there could be an infinity of such universes with some worlds so different from ours that life cannot even exist there, and others that differ by only the slightest of details, even down to the ponies living there!” Her head shot up all of a sudden. “Hay! I bet that’s how Pinkie was able to get all these duplicates of herself from the Mirror Pool!” Her grin faded and she felt the blood drain from her face and her mouth gape open. “But if that’s true, then the girls and I committed mass murder of alternate universe Pinkie Pies!”

As the realization struck Twilight's ears crashed to the sides of her neck and she fell to her knees, her vision distorting as she felt her eyes start to swim and her breath catch in her throat. From somewhere far away she heard Starswirl begin to chuckle. She glanced up in disbelief.

“How... how can you laugh at a time like this? You should be calling the inter-dimensional police, or somepony to come lock me up!”

“Lass, how can anypony talk that long without breathing?” His expression was gentle, and not at all mocking as she had feared. “I did indeed write that, and I have to agree. It does open the door to this being a world akin to mine own, but not necessarily the same one.” He chuckled again. “So, one of your friends took a dip in the Mirror Pool then? Clover and I worked for months to create that pool. It’s one of the finest and most useful pranks we ever pulled on Celestia.”

His expression softened. “She needed a laugh then. It was not so long after she had banished her sister to the moon. She cried for months.” He sighed. “You should have seen her face when she met herself standing outside the pool. She stood stock still for a good minute. Clover and I nearly died laughing! And then she surprised us both by cordially introducing herself to her duplicate, and putting the poor thing to work doing public appearances in her stead. As far as I know she still makes copies of herself for when she needs to get away for a while, or is doubly engaged and cannot gracefully refuse one activity or the other.”

Twilight stared at the old mage in awe. She arose, the fur on her foreknees now mottled with dust. "So that’s how she does it! I've always wondered how she could manage to be seen in so many places. I assumed she just teleported her royal carriage everywhere.” She looked down at her forehooves and her ears drooped. “But then, we still... I killed... so many of the Pinkie copies.”

His gaze met hers. “Now lass, don’t worry about the duplicates created by the Mirror Pool. They would have dissipated on their own over time. And they are not thinking beings but actually magical constructs all linked back to the original.” He scratched an ear. “I believe I left a spell to be rid of them in case they became troublesome.”

Twilight put a hoof to her chest as her heart started beating again.

“Perhaps I should have added some notes about the Mirror Pool with the spell.” His grin showed he was anything but repentant.

Somehow Twilight wasn’t able to gather the energy to glare at the old miscreant. He looked too worn and miserable under the grime of the day. Instead she pulled her kerchief back out. She wet it with a bit of water from Starswirl’s canteen and gently wiped the dust from his face.

“Oh dear girl, that does an old pony a world of good,” he said, eyes closed. She could tell he was quickly fading. She grinned in anticipation, reached into her magical cache, and with a loud pop pulled out their accommodations for the night.

Starswirl’s eyes cracked open at the noise, and then suddenly widened as he gaped in disbelief. “A bunk bed? Why would you have a bunk bed in your camping gear?”

Twilight looked up at the bed with affection. “In the last little while my assistant and ward Spike is on a I’m not a baby anymore rant and he categorically refuses to share a bed with me. So I got us a bunk bed for when we go camping.” She grinned and with a flap of her wings jumped to the upper berth. “I call topsies!”

Starswirl looked once more at the improbable bed. He chuckled and conjured a hook on one of the bedposts on which he hung up his hat. He then fell into the lower bunk. In seconds he was snoring softly. Twilight took advantage of the privacy to wipe the dust from her coat using her damp kerchief. The evening was still rather hot, so she lay down over the covers. A grin split her muzzle ear-to-ear. Starswirl the Bearded is sleeping in the bunk below mine! She squealed so softly she doubted even Fluttershy would have been quieter. With a final glance at the strange moon, she faded slowly into an exhausted slumber.

The next morning Starswirl felt rested, but something had awoken him over an hour before the dawn and try as he might he couldn’t quite place a hoof on it. It bothered him so much that he tossed and turned. At some point the outline of a unicorn’s head peeked over the edge of the upper bunk.

“Maestro, are you awake?” whispered the princess. He sighed.

“Yes, lass. And you can speak normally. There’s nopony else within leagues for you to disturb.”

He could just make out the outline of her grin in the semi-light. “Oh, yeah!” she said in a more conversational tone of voice. “Did you sleep well?”

“Quite well, considering yesterday’s events.” He rolled out of the lower bunk to stand on all fours. “And how did you sleep, Princess?”

“Better than on some nights, I suppose. But I kept waking up.” Twilight spread her wings and glided down to the ground. “It took me a while to figure it out, but it wasn’t noises that woke me, it was the silence.”

“And why would the silence wake a pony up, lass?” He took out his portal frame and again plunged his left foreleg into it.

“Ah. That’s basic adaptation to regular stimuli. Ponies just get used to things they hear all the time and then tune them out from their perception. We all do it, otherwise we couldn’t ever get to sleep.” From beneath a wing she produced a small camp table complete with cutlery and steaming tea service. “It works the same way with silence. What woke me up is that I’m not used to the silence, so my brain keeps telling me to get up and investigate what’s wrong.”

“Seems plausible.” Starswirl pulled his leg back out clutching a loaf of bread and a small pot, which he placed on the table. “If we’re lucky this is jam and not mustard.” His horn glowed and the lid opened. A small dollop of something golden flew out the pot and into his mouth. “Marmalade! We’re set for a proper breakfast!”

Twilight poured them both tea, and the ponies ate in quiet companionship.

As Starswirl put away the pot of marmalade. Twilight remarked with smile: "Some things never change, I guess."

"What do you mean?" he asked, feeling companionable.

"Oh, just that this marmalade tastes exactly the same as some I had at a friend's house the other day."

"Indeed?" said Starswirl, looking thoughtful. He began inspecting the contents of his cloak. From under it he took out and shook the canteen. "Hmm... could you please remind me to fill my water bottle at the next stream if I forget?"

"Sure, Maestro! Checking that all canteens of a team are properly filled in all water streams along the way is at the top in my List of Procedures for Research Expeditions in Hostile Environments. Well, not exactly at the top, it's actually the seventh item, but it's near the top and hence difficult to miss, although evidently I wouldn't miss any item as I double check every...”

“Princess Twilight!” interrupted Starswirl. He gave the young mare a reassuring smile. “The mornings are cooler. Perhaps we should get going before the sun rises too high." 

“Oh. Yeah!” Her cheeks glowed briefly in embarrassment. "Er... if you'll excuse me then I'll follow the list of Breaking Camp Procedures for Research Expeditions in Hostile Environments. I'll be ready in a couple of minutes.”

The blush and her sheepish smile reminded him that this alicorn princess was still a very young mare. He let her her take what comfort she could in her lists and procedures. He turned his attention back to the distant horizon as he continued to fuss with his pockets.

When he looked back Twilight had already finished breaking camp. He just saw her shove a paper scroll under her wing. She then lowered the wing to her flank as if the object was no longer there. Starswirl was disappointed he had been looking away when Twilight put away the bunk bed. Her camping equipment cache made his portal frame seem... small in comparison.

Dawn was breaking as together they resumed walking towards the tall ruins in the distance.

Twilight was the first to notice the holes in the walls. They were usually found in bunches of three or four, and sometimes more, peppering the walls of the ruins. “Maestro, I’ve found more of them,” she called out. By this point finding anything else in the ruins was becoming a novelty. This time however, the wall in which they were found faced the sun almost straight on so Twilight took advantage of the fact to try to peer into one of the tiny cavities. “Maestro! Hold on a moment. I think I can see something.”

He looked up as her horn field began to glow. The spell was pretty elementary and didn’t require much of her attention, so she watched Starswirl out of the corner of her eye as debris began to stream out of the mouth of one of the holes. He had seemed more cheerful after the night’s sleep, but a mere hour later his somber expression from the previous day was back. Her announcement barely caused a raised eyebrow. Nevertheless, he stood waiting patiently.

She focused back on her tiny excavation. Something gleamed dully at the bottom end of the little tunnel she had exposed. Her eyes narrowed to slits as she concentrated and pulled. The wall material, despite being light, was quite hard. Twilight grunted as she poured more and more magical power into her horn.

There was a loud crunch, and she suddenly found herself a full two ponylengths from the wall, sitting on her haunches in the dust and debris. Despite her somewhat ridiculous posture in front of History’s most famous magician, she smiled as a small metallic lump twirled in the air a hoofspan from the tip of her muzzle.

“If I’m not mistaken it looks like a lump of lead,” she remarked.

Starswirl’s ears rose and he came in for a closer look. “Lead, did you say?”

She passed the object to Starswirl and got up, pausing to inspect her dust-caked hindquarters. “Well, I guess if my friend Pinkie Pie were here she would call me Miss Dusty McDustypants,” she said with a rueful laugh. “So what do you think of the object, Maestro? I bet if we dig in the other holes we’ll find more of them. They’re obviously missiles that were projected at high speed.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “But whatever for?”

Starswirl’s expression had grown grim. The object spun before him, its tapered cylindrical form now obvious. His voice was grave. “This is a bullet, used to kill, lass. Used to wage war.”

She raised both eyebrows in surprise. “Really? But, they’d be so easily dealt with by any unicorn! I mean, a force redirection field could send them harmlessly off into the sky, or a simple transformational barrier could turn them all into harmless party decorations.”

Starswirl stared at the missile intently. “But the beings who lived here were not ponies, Princess, they were humans.” He sighed. “And humans have no magic.”

The little missile’s glow increased a moment and it transformed into a metallic grey flower. A chrysanthemum, she noted. It floated slowly down to rest at the base of the wall.

As Twilight belatedly parsed the old unicorn's words her eyes grew wide. “No magic? But you said you were born here, and you’re the greatest magician in recorded Equestrian history!”

Starswirl frowned angrily. “Discretion, lass! I have warned you, don’t tell me anything about my future.”

Twilight blushed as she realized she had broken her promise. “Oops! I’m sorry Maestro. Really, I won’t do it again.” Her sheepish grin faded as Starswirl turned brusquely and marched off. She breathed deeply and trudged in her idol’s tracks.

Starswirl stared up at the building’s entrance. It was the only intact construction they had seen so far. Bullet damage and other indications of combat had become far more frequent the closer they got to the edifice. Then the signs of strife dropped off abruptly at about one hundred yards from the building itself, as if the belligerents had feared bringing their conflict any nearer to it. Three steps led up to the entrance. Above it were displayed more words in the latin alphabet. These words were easy to understand, despite being neither Italian nor French. He noticed Twilight looking up and frowning.

“It says Reclamation Center,” he supplied.

She glanced at him, no less puzzled. “A center to reclaim what?”

He shrugged. “Let us go in and find out.” He moved up the three steps and entered.

Inside was a large atrium. Windowless walls made for an oppressive, closed-in ambiance. The only decoration was a rather simplistic painting depicting Lady Justice, her eyes bound, and holding up a balance scale in one arm. Above each dish of the scale was a symbol: the one on the left bore the Greek letter Alpha and the one on the right the letter Omega. Twilight stared first at the depiction then at Starswirl.

"Is this the appearance of your species, Maestro?"

He nodded and waited patiently as she continued to study the image. Suddenly she smiled.

"Apparently justice is blind on this world as well," she commented. Her glance fell to the floor.

A path worn into the floor snaked from one side of the room to the other, the rest of the floor’s surface seeming untouched except for the dust. One arm of the path traced the periphery of the wall and snaked back out to the same entrance where they had come in.

Twilight smiled. “It’s like at the older banks in Canterlot. Generations of hooves have scored the marble floors.” She looked around. “This place must have been in operation for a long time.”

The only other feature in the room was an opening with a counter space just above the height of his head, perhaps a yard and a half from the floor. She spread her wings and leaped up to the counter. She peered into the gloom beyond, then lit her horn. “It looks like just another smaller room beyond. But it has a doorway leading out.” She raised a hoof pointing inwards. “Shall we?”

He nooded and was surprised when he felt himself levitated over the counter. “I’m not an invalid, you know!” he groused, but didn’t make any further complaint. When his hooves touched down on the other side he nodded. “Thank you, lass.”

She seemed relieved, and smiled back at him. “You’re welcome, Maestro.” As she passed close he placed a hoof on her withers. She stopped and looked at him in surprise.

“Princess, please accept my apology.” He sighed. “I haven’t been the best company today. I hope you understand –” he waved a hoof around him “– the beings who lived here are my people, and... I have a very uneasy feeling about this place.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow after his last statement. He attempted a chuckle but wasn’t sure he had succeeded. He was suddenly wrapped in her wings, a style of embrace he had most often received from Princess Celestia. Briefly he melted into her embrace. It was only when he felt his pulse slowing down that he realized how wound-up he had become.

“I know you’re afraid, Maestro. I would be too. But in times like these I’m reminded of the words of a dusty old scholar: ‘The path to the truth is rarely an easy one’. You’re not alone, remember that.” She retracted her wings.

He looked the young mare in the eye. “Thank you, Twilight.” He chuckled and began dusting himself off. “Dusty, I admit freely. Old –” he winked “– is a relative matter. I’m not old in comparison to Princess Celestia.” He lit his own horn. The shadows beyond doubled and shifted jerkily as he moved into the corridor.

They explored the building and found mostly empty rooms. The only furnishings left were metallic or glass objects. It was in the lowest level that they finally found something else: the dried remains of a human corpse. Twilight screeched and her hooves scraped the dusty floor in panic as she tried to backpedal from the sight. This time it was Starswirl who enfolded her head in his forelegs and cooed in her ears as she wept. Finally she gathered her courage and turned her gaze back to the horrible scene. Her lingering doubt vanished, this was a being similar to the one depicted in the atrium.

It sat against a metal door, hind legs splayed out in front of it, and it was missing a foreleg. There was a loose tourniquet tied above one knee, and the hind leg below it was deeply cut. A large reddish brown stain covered the floor around the entire area, and a rusted blade lay on the floor next to the being's semi-severed leg. The scene left little doubt as to the cause of death.

On the door above the corpse's bowed head was more text and a symbol. At first she took the symbol for the drawing of a flower, but then on closer examination it proved to be a symbol she knew. Twilight again drew back in shock. It took her a moment to find her voice.

"Maestro! I... I know that symbol!" She pointed to it with a hoof.

It took him a moment to tear his eyes away from the grisly display. "What is it?" he whispered.

"It indicates a deadly hazard, Maestro. One of biological origins. We must not open that door." She looked at the text. "Can you read the words?"

"Yes, Princess, it says Danger: Nanomachines." Twilight's face must have shown her confusion at the foreign sounds. "The first word clearly means danger. As for the second, I think it means 'dwarf machines', but I have no idea what a dwarf machine is." His expression became unbearably sad. "Princess, let us depart this... dismal place."

"I think that's a good idea, Maestro."

On the way out he seemed deflated, a smaller stallion than the one who had entered the Reclamation Center. Twilight paused in the atrium to look again at the painting of the human on the wall.

"She's beautiful, Maestro," she said.

"Yes. She is," he replied. She led him out gently as he tried to hide his tears.