//------------------------------// // Night // Story: The Lunatics // by SpaceCommie //------------------------------// "Yes," Caballeron said. "The changelings know where we are, which is why we must leave. Now." "But Princess Luna is still interrogating the changeling," Moonshine said. "We can't just leave now." Caballeron's eyes narrowed, and he began to stalk across the room, words coming from his mouth rapid-fire and precise. "The princess is apparently unaware that she is not just contending with one mind, one little ego to be intimidated into submission. She is dealing with a vast consciousness a millennium deep. We leave now." Colgate tapped her hoof on the floor a few times, thinking. "We have a changeling on the train anyways. Moonshine, talk to the princess. Caballeron knows what he's talking about." Moonshine hesitated. "Okay..." She turned towards the vault, but before she took another step, Caballeron spoke. "Wait." "What?" she said, an edge to her voice. Caballeron said, "The changelings must not learn that we know that they are aware of our location." Colgate sighed and pushed back her mane. "So I knock him out, too." "It could feign unconsciousness." "I can make pretty damn sure it's out, Doctor." Caballeron wet his lips, tongue flickering out like a snake's. "We should kill it," he said. "It's the only way to be sure." "No it's not!" Moonshine said, voice high. "We can just talk to the princess outside of the vault. This isn't your decision anyways, it's Princess Luna's. She's not going to just kill somepony because you say so." Caballeron sneered. "I dearly hope that the princess does not share your peculiar brand of naivety." "I am not naive!" Moonshine protested. He ignored her. "The princess had best be prepared to have a good deal of ichor on her hooves by the time this is over, because—" "Caballeron!" Colgate said sharply. "Lay off her. We still have better options. Let's get out of here." "The princess—" Moonshine started. "Will understand that we have to leave ASAP. Tell her we'll explain outside." Caballeron nodded, his neck tense. Moonshine walked into the bank vault. "Princess? We need to talk outside, please." Soarin had never really liked trains. "These things are too small," he mumbled to nopony in particular. This was somewhat unfair. The cars had been designed specifically for Celestia, which gave Soarin an unusual amount of room to move about. But still. It didn't feel right. Especially not with the newest additions to the passenger list. Both of them creeped Soarin out. The drained stallion was–well, Soarin couldn't really put his hoof on it. Colgate had confirmed that he wasn't a changeling, but if anything, that made it worse. Danger was something Soarin could deal with, or at least the kind that put him a twitch of the wing from breaking all the bones in his body. He didn't have to think about that too deeply. Just react. How are you supposed to react to something that can do that? Soarin thought, peering in through the ajar door of the room the stallion was kept in. The drained stallion was just sitting there, dark blue fur seeming to soak up the moonlight coming in through the window. He hadn't moved, not an inch. And he had been in there for something like an hour. Soarin shuddered, and it wasn't all theatrical. If anything, the changeling was worse. Soarin had carried her into the train—and took a lot less care with her than he had with the stallion. She was in the storeroom, which locked from the outside. That was, of course, not very helpful against a teleporting unicorn, so the door had been fitted with a glass window, two inches thick and crisscrossed with wires to reinforce it. The idea was that it would, at the very least, be possible to spot any teleporting thief through the door. Fair enough, but it meant that whoever was inside could also see out. And that was creepy. Soarin had walked by after the changeling woke up, and there was Cherry Jubilee, standing right inside, large as life. "Soarin, darlin', what's goin' on? Why am I in here?" Soarin hadn't had anything to say. "I'm scared, honey," she said, voice muffled by the door. "I swear I don't know anythin'. Let me out." He had stared in. Cherry's eyes were watery, a tear already threatening to fall. "Please." Soarin walked away. It wasn't right. It was scary. It was wrong. But now he was back by the window. And strangely, Cherry wasn't immediately visible. He got closer and looked towards the sides of the room. Still no fake Cherry, but—was that Moonshine? She noticed him looking through the window, and walked towards it slowly, her head not coming as high to the window as Cherry's had. "Soarin?" she asked. "Yeah?" he responded without thinking. "Can you let me out now?" Soarin noted, in a half-hearted sort of way, that she was sort of adorable looking up at him like that. He shook his head. "You're not Moonshine," he said slowly. "I'm not letting you out." The not-Moonshine stamped her hoofs. "I am too Moonshine!" she protested, voice higher than usual. "Please, Soarin, let me out. I'll be really thankful." He hesitated, and walked away. Colgate tapped a pencil on the table, over and over. Click, click, click. The conference car was well-lit, bright and warm, but the night outside seemed to weigh heavily in, pressing in on the windows. “We still don’t know what happened to everypony in Dodge. The changelings cut the telegraph lines.” “There was a train full of ponies coming out,” Soarin said. “They probably got out before—” “Before what? Soarin, it would make sense if the changelings took some of them back. They could be used as hostages, intel, or...” “Consumed,” Caballeron said. Colgate nodded. “Yeah.” Moonshine walked into the car, closing the door gingerly behind her. “Hi,” she said. “Steam says he’s sorry that the train’s not going faster, but...” She took a deep breath. “They couldn’t refuel the train in Dodge Junction because they weren’t able to get to the depot in time so we have to go slower and Steam’s really sorry that we’re going slower than normal and will try to apologize before the changelings catch up to us and suck the life out of our bodies.” Soarin blinked. Luna asked, “Are you alright?” Moonshine bit her lip. “I’m probably not. Where is everypony from Dodge? Ms Cherry, Mr Deposit—my parents?” Luna nodded, and put a hoof on Moonshine’s shoulder. “They will be fine, I promise, as will you.” Moonshine shrugged her hoof off. “Right.” “I do mean it,” Luna said. “I do not make promises lightly.” The secretary sighed. “I know you don’t.” The cool night air brushed at Luna’s face as she stood at the back of the train, staring out into the desert. The Moon was high in the sky, casting a silver light across the empty expanse of dust and dirt and rock. The door behind her opened. “Guess you couldn’t sleep either,” Moonshine said, gently closing the door. Luna turned her head to look at her, the secretary’s eyes glimmering in the night’s light. “I am not accustomed to rest at these hours,” she said. “I’ve been, um, working nights for two years now. It’s not easy for me either,” Moonshine said with a hesitant chuckle. “Two years,” Luna said, looking out into the night once more. “Six hundred forty one days,” Moonshine chirped. Luna stared. “It’s, um, probably weird that I count that,” Moonshine said, looking down as she kicked her hoof against the platform. “I, um, guess I like to be exact?” “Perhaps,” Luna said. Two years, she thought. Why was the thought uncomfortable? In my exile, my fits of rage had lasted longer. My madness consumed a thousand years in the blink of an eye. And yet, Luna had expected it to be different now that the Nightmare had passed, that somehow she would leave behind that otherworldly perspective. Surely it is different than the time of my exile, but I am still— “Princess, are you alright?” Moonshine asked quietly. Luna hesitated. “I am fine. It is just that I never thought I would become this... old.” Moonshine pondered that for a moment. “And yet you don’t look a day over seven hundred.” “Flatterer,” Luna said, and laughed. “I am sorry. I believe you wanted to speak with me.” “Um.” Moonshine sighed. “Y-yes. I...” “Yes?” “I wanted to—” Moonshine hesitated. “It’s just, um, that...” Luna raised an eyebrow. “Never mind. It was a dumb idea, anyways,” Moonshine said, and turned to the door. “I’m sorry to have bothered you.” “You have not bothered me. What was it you wished to speak of?” Luna asked. “Don’t worry about it, Luna. Please.” Luna? Moonshine walked away into the varnished oak interior of the observation car. Luna called, “Wait!” The secretary didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down. Luna’s horn glowed bright as she listened to her hoofsteps. There was a flash of light and heat, the sharp scent of ozone in Luna’s nostrils. She appeared in front of Moonshine. “I worry after you at times,” Luna said. “You were possessed of more calm confronted with a snarling changeling than you are now. What is it that troubles you?” “Please, Princess, it’s nothing.” Luna raised an eyebrow. Moonshine sighed. “Do you know what it’s like, that feeling when you lay in bed and can’t sleep, so your mind paces through the same thoughts over and over and over again, and it doesn’t even matter what they are, it just makes sense even though it doesn’t really?” A shadow flickered across Luna’s face. “I have spent more than a few sleepless days in my own dark reveries. Yes, I know of what you speak.” Moonshine nodded uncertainly. “I don’t want to leave you.” She sighed. “I mean, on this mission. I just feel like something’s going to happen and then I won’t be there to help you, and it’ll mean that...” She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know.” “Moonshine,” Luna said, “you have been invaluable to me in Canterlot, but under these circumstances...” “Thank you for not saying it,” Moonshine murmured. “I would just get in your way. I know.” Luna opened her mouth, but no words came. She glanced out the window, sensitive eyes catching a flicker of motion in the darkness outside. Her wings opened instinctively, brushing both sides of the car. “Behind me,” she whispered. Moonshine froze. “Now!” Luna hissed, and Moonshine crept under her wings, her scared wide eyes looking up at Luna. The lights flickered and died. There was a thump above them, and the clatter of chitin on steel. Something nudged Soarin’s side. Insistently. He groaned, and turned his back to whatever had interrupted his very nice dream. It had involved pie and Spitfire. "Damn it," Colgate said. "Hey, flyboy—get up." "Wha?" Soarin asked. Colgate sighed. "Caballeron thinks something's going on." Soarin sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Like what?" "Changelings," Caballeron said from the doorway of the sleeping car, eyes glittering. With a grunt, he kicked something into the car. Soarin stared. "What." "Hold on a second," Colgate said, her horn lighting up. "Seriously, Caballeron?" There was a changeling lying there on the floor, mouth hanging open, eyes blank and dead. "You dragged that two cars just for the dramatic entrance?" Colgate asked. Caballeron hesitated. "I... no, of course not. That would be absurd." Colgate pushed back her mane. "Okay, whatever. The point is, Soarin, that there's changelings on the train. We think some of them are doing something in the locomotive. "You think?" Soarin asked. "We don't know what's going on. Caballeron heard screams. Now we can't get into the car." Soarin nodded. "That sounds bad." "It is." Caballeron raised a hoof. "You need to fly to the locomotive and find out what they're doing." Soarin nodded. "Sounds good." "There is," Caballeron said, "something of a complication." He gestured towards the window. Soarin looked out at the dusty desert landscape rushing fast, and said, "We must be going sixty, seventy miles an hour." Colgate smirked. "Think you can keep up, flyboy?" Soarin grinned, lifting his wings experimentally. "Oh yeah." "Then get going, cloudhead." The strange calm of combat came easily to Luna. Or at least that was how it felt, standing in the train car, wings stretched wide, power flowing smoothly through her body. The changeling’s hoofsteps still clattered on the roof of the train car, and the wind howled outside. Moonshine was crouched in the corner behind Luna, her breathing fast and shallow. Luna placed a wing over her shoulders, and tried to smile. She couldn’t manage it. Luna’s blood rushed beneath her ears. There was a thud on the observation platform at the end of the car. Jagged silhouettes flashed across the car’s walls. Luna watched the door opposite her. Its knob turned, slowly. Luna’s horn began to glow, crackling with energy, and she lowered her head towards the door slightly, orienting her body towards the intruder. The door opened slightly. Moonshine gasped and held her breath. Soarin walked in, grinning nonchalantly. “Hey guys, what’s up?” “The ceiling,” Luna responded. “Above that, I suspect, there is a changeling.” “Did you see it?” Moonshine asked, in an oddly precise way. Luna glanced at her. Soarin blinked. “A... changeling?” He shook his head. “I think you guys are getting spooked because of the night.” “I... what?” Luna asked. Moonshine put a hoof to her forehead. “Soarin, please tell me that you’re kidding right now.” “Why would I be kidding?” Moonshine kicked at the ground. “Two possible explanations. Either you’re—” She smiled softly. “—a complete idiot, or...” Soarin’s grin faltered. Moonshine drew a little closer to Luna. “Or you’re a changeling.” His face was a mask, and there wasn’t even a flash of expression as he jumped off the floor. His wings were a blur, and he darted down the length of the train, straight towards Moonshine. The room lit up in pure white light for the briefest fraction of  a second, like a landscape illuminated by lighting. Something thumped onto the floor. There was a sharp, burnt scent in the air. The body that had collapsed onto the floor of the darkened observation car was Soarin, to all appearances. Moonshine bit her lip. “That’s...” “Remember Caballeron’s words,” Luna said. “It is an... afterimage, nothing more.” “Yeah,” Moonshine said flatly. “There will be more,” Luna said. “We must leave.” “What about the others?” Moonshine said. Luna silenced the voice in her head that told her to listen to Moonshine. “They will be fine, but we must leave now.” Moonshine, wide-eyed, nodded. They walked together towards the door, Moonshine with quick, agitated steps to keep up with Luna’s long stride. She walked through the door, glancing back at the body on the floor. They stood on the platform at the end of the car for a moment, watching the landscape for signs of motion. Luna spoke. “Hold onto me,” she said, and pulled Moonshine towards her. With powerful, slow wingbeats, she made her way into the cool night sky, the train pulling away behind her. Soarin felt good. This was his stock in trade, his passion. He liked flying. He especially liked flying fast and close to the ground, where any errant current could mean a sixty-five mile an hour faceplant. That didn't happen, and he flew forwards along the length of the train, consuming the distance to the locomotive with powerful, controlled wingbeats. The Compass Rose was a venerable old engine, although it was hard to tell from the pristine iron sides glistening in the cool moonlit night. There were no lights on in it, nothing at all except for the red glow of the furnace inside. Soarin, with one final wingbeat, dropped lightly into the train. Something slammed into him, hard, and the metal of the engine underhoof disappeared as it knocked him backwards. This wasn't a problem; he slowly opened his wings and traded speed for height before hitting the ground rushing beneath him. Soarin dropped back a couple of cars from the locomotive. Given the circumstances, it was a fair bargain. The snarling changeling holding onto Soarin with all its might was more of a problem, he decided. Soarin writhed in its grasp, trying to get away from it. It held tighter, legs around his torso squeezing hard. Soarin snapped his right wing down. He started to spin and lose altitude. Neither of these was a good thing. But maybe... Soarin leaned to one side, the changeling nearing the ground. It squirmed, bashing its head into Soarin’s torso, arms flailing. Soarin’s flight evened out, but he was still dropping. The changeling hit the ground first. There was a terrible crunching sound, and it screamed, letting go of Soarin. Soarin's wing shot back out, and he breathed fast and hard, deep lungfuls of air. "Booyeah!" he yelled. "That's why you don't mess with a Wonder—" Something else hit him squarely in the chest. Soarin's wings froze for a split-second, and dropped like an aerodynamic brick. His hooves just nicked the ground below before he spread his wings, the train rushing past him again. He glanced around, catching a flicker of white teeth. The changeling roared towards him, its wings spread wide. Soarin punched it in the face, hearing something snap. It roared at him, exposing a bloody mouth that was missing a fang. The changeling screeched and dove beneath Soarin, snapping at his legs. Something cut halfway down the length of Soarin's leg. He grimaced and gritted his teeth. Soarin snapped his left wing in to his side, spinning around wildly. He tried to stabilize himself, and spotted a flash of black and white and sky blue. Soarin flailed out at it, his hoof making solid contact. The changeling screeched, and dropped to the ground with a fleshy thump. “One... down...” Soarin panted, looking back at the changeling. Huh. There was a gash a few inches across, although he couldn’t guess how deep it was. Soarin flexed his leg. It hurt, but it seemed to work fine. Good enough. Although maybe that’s just the adrenaline talking... He pumped his wings feverishly, making up the distance to the engine. Soarin searched the air around for changelings. Three-D, three-D... Left, right, up, down. Think three-D. He couldn’t see any. He dropped onto the locomotive, still glancing around for changelings. “Hey guys!” Soarin called out. “Are you here?” He stepped towards the red glow of the furnace. “Steam? Tracks? You guys okay?” There was a groan from the engine room. Soarin looked in, checking for changelings. There weren’t any. Instead, Steam Power was up against the far wall, toppled over. His eyes were blank. “Steam!” Soarin yelled. The engineer raised a hoof weakly towards the complicated array of brass on the opposite wall, and then dropped it. His eyes closed. “Steam? Steam? Oh... okay, Soarin. Keep it together. You can figure this out. Okay, this one says pressure... and it’s red... red is bad. This is bad.” Soarin scratched his head, pacing agitatedly in front of the gauge. The needle made its way through the red zone on the gauge, down to the very bottom, and kept moving. “Huh. Okay, so now it’s back into the green... and moving again... and now back in the red...” Soarin’s eyes widened, and he bolted down the length of the locomotive. He leaped off the train, his wings snapping out to catch the air, fully extended: the one thing you’re never supposed to do at high speeds. The first thought to go through Soarin’s mind was “I hope Spitfire never finds out about this.” The second was cut off by a sudden shock of pain behind his shoulders as the wind whipping past caught his wings and dragged him back. A tremendous roar came from the engine, and a jet of steam and fire erupted from it. Soarin could feel the heat, singeing his back. A blast of pressure washed over him, and he was thrown backwards, tumbling in midair. The engine slipped off the track, careening into the soft desert earth, a plume of dirt rising up around it. The rest of the train followed, the next car snapping its connections as it spun and rolled across the desert.