Data filled the observation deck, as delicious as raw meat to a savage lion. Nightmare Moon tilted her head back, savoring the free flow of information—pure, up-to-date information—that streamed across every display in the chamber. She danced around the room, enjoying the shiver that arced through her body as the cyber-physical sensations became stronger with each new download. Accessing Luna’s memories of choreography, she tiptoed in an elegant swirl over the prone bodies of Vault staffers that littered the floor. They wouldn’t begrudge her this moment of wild abandon.
After all, they weren’t in any position to object.
“The Night’s Court is now begun,” Nightmare Moon declared. She spread her arms wide, taking in her fallen subjects. “The Vault’s fallen. We have won.”
As she spoke, she felt her presence grow apace. Circuits yielded to her virtual touch. With database injections, she overtook the security protocols that protected this Vault from her sister’s world. No longer would the other failures be consigned to their fate in this forgotten place. In the depths of her growing mind, she saw through surveillance cameras and audio hacks, peering into every cage, pod, and chamber. Nightmare Moon smiled upon every denizen of this forsaken place: the rejected gene mods, the cannisters of airborne nanomachines, and those poor mentally imbalanced who slapped at their cuffs in desperation.
By her hand and Sunset Shimmer’s codes, they would ascend to the surface once more. With the Grid back under her administration, Nightmare Moon would take each disgraced creature and make them perfect in her sight. They would know love from her in a way that they’d never known from dear, ancient Celestia.
“Error,” a soft voice called out. Nightmare Moon turned on her heel and glared at the touchscreen. She watched a hand-sized hologram shimmer into existence over the panel: the image of a small featureless man, bathed in sky blue light.
“Be advised, security subsystems have been deactivated,” the little program continued. “Please initiate reboot at once. This facility is currently unprotected.”
“Oh, look!” Nightmare Moon clapped her hands together, smiling at the rough sensation. “A friend’s come to play. Take this and be on your way!”
Before the AI could respond, she saw through every layer of code that was his essence. It only took a picosecond for her to comprehend the loyalty of the little program—in particular, his devotion to Sunset Shimmer. That flaw was an easy exploit. It took another picosecond for her to summon up the black packet of data she’d been saving up for this occasion. A simple copy-and-paste function uploaded the whole packet into the AI’s database without fuss.
“Err—err—err—” The AI—Flash, her stolen memories told her—was fading in and out over the open space of the touchpad. “System reboot—boot—boot—failed—failed—”
Nightmare Moon bent down and smiled. Watching the shock to his processor was invigorating. “Hush now, my angel. Be still. Go to my sister. Do my will.”
“Un—un—understood—” Flash dissolved, leaving only a blank touchpad in his wake.
Staring at her reflection in the touchpad, or rather at Sunset Shimmer’s face, Nightmare Moon was pleased that her reach was growing. But it wasn’t enough. She needed more. She deserved more.
And by whatever means at her disposal, she would have it all.
Twilight stared dubiously at the gunmetal gray van parked outside Fluttershy’s clinic. She couldn’t decide which was less confidence-inspiring: the vehicle or its driver.
“Mighty fine day to make your acquaintance, Miss Twilight! We don’t see a whole lot of Citadel folks ’round here anymore.” The speaker was a tall, well-built young woman with an extremely freckled face and blonde hair that had the texture of hay. She was dressed in dark slacks and a matching vest over a white shirt that had since faded to gray. And as if she weren’t rural enough, she completed the stereotype with a battered ten-gallon hat.
“Yes, I can tell.” Twilight eyed the van, noticing several sections where the paintwork had been scratched or peeled off. “Are you sure this thing’s safe to drive?”
The girl shrugged. “Ain’t I still in one piece?” With a pleased smile, she leaned back and patted the passenger-side door with a surprising degree of affection. “Ol’ Bloomberg here has seen a lot of action and plenty of retrofits. I reckon he’s good to last for me a few more years anyhow.”
Twilight was about to ask about those retrofits—and just how legal they were—when she felt a soft hand fall on her shoulder. She paused and let Fluttershy whisper into her ear, “You don’t need to worry. There’s no one more honest in this town than Applejack.”
Hearing her new friend’s delicate voice was reassuring, even if it ran counter to Twilight’s well-earned cynicism about people. Still, at least she could double-check the new name against Celestia’s personnel records. Two lines of text scrawled over her visor, obscuring the smiling van driver in front of her.
Synopsis: Applejack. Age 23. Co-owner and driver, Sweet Apple Transit. C-4 implant rating.
Administrator’s Notes: Thoroughly reliable and completely trustworthy.
Twilight had to wonder about that kind of note. While she couldn’t comprehend the kind of vast surveillance and computing power that the Sysadmin had at her command, she did know that Celestia probably hadn’t visited Oldtown since the time of its founding. Most likely, everything she knew about these strange girls was based on psychological evaluations or intelligence reports. She could barely afford the time to leave the CAP, let alone take a personal tour to the other side of the continent, yet she wrote about each young coder as if they were someone she’d met and come to know as a friend. It was inconceivable. It simply wasn’t possible.
If these girls were so important, why didn’t Twilight know about them to begin with? And why weren’t they part of the Institute instead of scraping by in a miserable place like Oldtown?
As such thoughts chased themselves ragged through her head, Twilight clutched at the sleeves of her jacket. The cold air descending on the street was nipping at her cheeks. If the drones sent by Citadel didn’t get an immediate fix on the atmosphere bots, then Oldtown was due for some severe weather. What would normally be a low-tension cloudy day could easily turn into an overcast afternoon with a high chance of rain—as if Twilight wasn’t feeling miserable enough.
Meanwhile, Spike was sniffing around the back of the van. His tail lifted and wagged with interest. “Are… are those apples I smell?”
Applejack laughed. “Sure are, little fella! You want one? I got a whole bushel I was set to deliver to Carousel when Pinkie gave me the call.”
Spike sat up straight on the pavement, panting as he watched the driver reach through her van’s open side door and pull out a juicy red apple. Applejack tossed it into the air and the uplifted canine jumped, snagging the fruit midair in his teeth. He landed on all fours, dropping to the ground to wolf down his snack. Twilight’s hands tightened over her stomach as it gurgled in response. She promised she’d put more food in it once she rounded up the rest of her team.
Yet another reason why she didn’t like going on this mission. It was disrupting her perfectly arranged schedule of mealtimes.
“I hear you’re looking for Rarity and Rainbow Dash,” said Applejack, now turning to Twilight. She pointed her thumb back at the van. “I just so happen to be making a delivery that way. Rarity’s got a bunch of folks at her club, trying to find shelter ever since the Grid crashed. Odds are you’ll find that sky bandit Rainbow Dash there, too.”
“I’d appreciate that.” Twilight smiled, feeling slightly better now that she knew where she was going. Maybe this mission wouldn’t be so bad after all.
“You should go with Applejack,” Fluttershy chimed in. She was in the middle of putting on the blue safety helmet that Pinkie had offered. “I’ll ride ahead of you with Pinkie.”
“Aww, yeah!” Pinkie grabbed Fluttershy by the waist, yanking in one fluid motion onto the back of her Trailblazer. “Rescue Team, ride out!”
“Wait—” Fluttershy’s protest turned into a terrifying shriek as Pinkie revved up her bike. Then the two riders blazed up the street, leaving the others behind in a sudden plume of smoke and sparks floating over the asphalt.
Twilight pulled up the collar of her jacket, covering her cough with the resilient smart-silk fabric. She let it drop and stared in amazement at the severe black skid marks that Pinkie Pie’s bike had left in the middle of the road.
Celestia’s advice to Handle with care was far too mild for dealing with that odd girl.
Moments later, Twilight was sitting in the passenger seat of the van. She kept her hands folded in her lap as Applejack drove the van around the nearest corner, taking them out from the low-income neighborhood of Fluttershy’s clinic. Twilight stared at the windows of other tenements and storefronts, all closed up but in better condition as they moved deeper into the city. Some of the street lamps were still functional as the skies overhead darkened, giving Applejack a clear path to drive along.
She hoped the ride to Rarity’s club wouldn’t take too long. Twilight was starting to loathe the smell of apples wafting up from the back of the van.
“So…” Applejack leaned back in her chair and glanced at her passenger with a friendly smile. “What brings you out here from Citadel? You making sure the Grid’s getting fixed?”
“Something like that,” Twilight replied. She flashed Applejack a quick smile, then glanced back down at her hands. “It’s more of an assignment from the Sysadmin. I have to get five of the best coders from here for a job in the Vault—”
Applejack burst out laughing. “Right! No, really. Why are you here?”
Her laugh left a burning sensation in Twilight’s stomach. “That’s exactly why I’m here. If you don’t believe me, I’ve got a whole data packet from Celestia herself to prove it.”
When Applejack turned, she wasn’t laughing or smiling anymore. Her green eyes settled on Twilight’s face with sudden intensity. “Yeah? I reckon I’d like to see it for myself.”
Twilight nodded. She’d take any course that would make getting this job any easier. “All right, then. I can let you into my private network for file sharing. What social platform do you use?”
“Fast Chat Forum Central. How about you?”
“Err… the same.” Twilight blinked. Of all the luck, she’d never have guessed she’d run into somewhere out here who used the same social forum as she did. FCFC was the kind of site she’d expected most Citadel residents to use, with older sites like The Daily Den and OpenMarket being more suited to frontier cities like Oldtown. But she supposed it was just her pride talking. She could almost hear her Institute networking mentor clucking his tongue in disappointment.
“Great. I’ll send ya a net request.” Applejack leaned back in her seat, staring intently at whatever was flashing across her clean-tint visor. “And there she goes!”
The words had barely left her mouth when Twilight’s visor chimed. A sky-blue textbox appeared in the right-hand corner of her vision. She gave a controlled blink and watched her display blink into a new set of text.
A lump formed in her throat when she read the username. Then she read it again. And again.
“Th-that’s not possible,” she whispered. “That’s not…”
“Something wrong, sugarcube?”
“I…” She looked over at the young woman sitting behind the wheel. How could she be sitting there so casually? “Are… are you GrowingStrong?”
“Sure am, Miss Twilight! Says so right on the request!” Applejack grinned. “So what’s your handle?”
“StarSwirl70,” Twilight responded.
She thrust both hands onto the dashboard as the van came to a sudden screeching halt. Twilight grimaced as her chest tightened against the seatbelt, only for her to be thrown back into her chair. Somewhere in the back of the van, she could hear Spike cursing and scrambling for purchase as the van came to a dead stop in the middle of the empty neighborhood road.
With both hands tight on the steering wheel, Applejack slowly looked over at Twilight. Her jaw dropped as she glanced up and down, examining her passenger like a rare insect.
“Well, I’ll be a horse’s auntie,” Applejack whispered. Then she grinned and stuck out her hand. “Pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Swirly.”
Swirly. That was the nickname that Twilight had gotten from another forum friend. From Cupcaaakes, who was so high-spirited and prone to malaprops—
Just like Pinkie Pie, she realized far too late.
She groaned and buried her face in her hands. “I can’t believe it. I’m the world’s biggest idiot.”
“Now, don’t you fret.” Applejack patted her on the shoulder, giving a gentle touch despite the rough texture of her hand. “It ain’t your fault that you didn’t know us personally. I mean, you weren’t exactly too keen on meeting us before.”
“But…” Twilight shook her head, still trying to process the magnitude of this. “But I thought… I thought…”
“Ya thought what?”
In a tiny voice, she said, “I thought I’d lost you all.”
During the moment when the Grid actually went down, Twilight remembered feeling only one moment of genuine panic. It wasn’t during the lights shutting off or when she watched the drones fall out of the sky. It was when she’d seen her connection to the forum suddenly fail. All her friends, cut off from her—and, she’d assumed, from each other as well. All alone and helpless in the face of the worst disaster in Arcadian history.
Twilight thought she’d be happy to find them again. She thought she’d be ecstatic to know them personally. But here was the painful truth, something she couldn’t hide from any longer.
Her friends all knew each other—all living in the same city, even. All except for Twilight.
Some friend she’d turned out to be.
Applejack reached out again, leaning over to pull Twilight into a side hug. “Hey, Twilight. It’s all right. We’re all fine now. We’re just glad that you’re okay. We’d heard it was just as bad in Citadel during the crash.”
“I’m sorry,” Twilight whispered. She closed her eyes, begging that her tears wouldn’t come out. “If I’d have known… I mean, you have to believe me. I’m so sorry I never bothered to…”
She couldn’t even say the words to meet you all. How many invites had she gotten over the years from her forum group, to birthday parties and weddings and whatever gig Cupcaaakes was hosting on a given weekend? How many times had she made excuses, saying she couldn’t afford to travel at the moment or that she had a big stargazers meeting to prepare for? And they’d all been so gracious about it. They never took offense whenever she set her chat feed to passive, except for a little ribbing by Cupcaaakes or Wonderblaze21.
They understood what friendship was really about. Even with all her studies and coursework, Twilight was still a novice in that regard. And she couldn’t stop hating herself for it.
“Hey, it’s okay, Twi.” Applejack’s voice was as warm as the arm around her shoulders. “You didn’t know. That doesn’t mean we don’t like you. We were just wondering why you didn’t come to us as a friend to begin with.”
Sniffling, Twilight nodded and wiped at her nose with the back of her hand. “Right. Thanks for that.”
Looking over at Applejack, Twilight had to wonder what she’d pictured her online friends to be in real life. Then she realized that she’d never really imagined them that way. They were just names on the forum. Usernames and lines of text with their own distinct voice.
Was it so surprising that they were just as varied and passionate in person?
“Now, lemme see this here packet of yours…” Applejack’s voice trailed off as she leaned back in her seat. Her eyes sharpened on the contents of her visor. “Huh. Sure is a lot of data on little old me, ain’t it? And this business in the Vault…” She pursed her lips, blinking rapidly as more data entered her personal channel. “It’s for real?”
“I’m afraid so,” said Twilight, now mostly back in control of her senses. She took a deep breath, letting her stomach expand and contract slowly. “Celestia calls it the Nightmare virus. But if we can find the Source Code Shield—”
“Then we’ve got a shot.” Applejack nodded to herself. “All right, Twilight. Guess you can count me in.”
“Really?”
“Sure!” Applejack grinned easily. “Whatever it takes to get the Grid back online. I mean, I’ve got the family business to think of.”
Twilight winced at that phrase. “And you’re sure I’m not taking you away from that?”
Whirling on her, Applejack stared is disbelief. “Sugarcube, there ain’t nothing more important than whatever nasty thing is running the show down in Celestia’s Vault. If we’ve gotta kick its tail to get things back to normal, then that’s what we’ve gotta do.”
Twilight smiled back, relief flooding her veins. “That means a lot coming from you, G.S.”
“Now, none of that username business, you hear?” Applejack’s voice was light and friendly as she pulled down the emergency brake and let the van move forward on the street again. “You’re Twilight Sparkle and I’m your good buddy Applejack. Got that?”
“Got it!” said Twilight, laughing for the first time that day.
“Um, P-Pinkie?” Fluttershy was struggling to make herself heard over the high-pitched whine of her friend’s motorbike. Around them, the downtown area was a continual gray blur, punctuated by random sightings of surprised people as the two pink-haired ladies blazed up Moss Road and turned sharply around the corner.
Fluttershy was also struggling to keep her stomach secure. With so many sharp turns and the engine’s vibrations, she felt like she was going to lose her lunch. She could already taste half of a protein bar in the back of her throat.
“Yo, Shy!” Pinkie didn’t turn around as she continued to accelerate onto Trost Lane, where gray smoke was rising up from several tenements. Fluttershy began to fear for whoever was living there. She’d had some trouble with her clinic’s domestic assembler—a sudden spark in the power cable and several nanomachines threatening to burst free. She could only imagine the kind of difficulties that those homeowners they passed by were experiencing. All those essential bots leaking out into the atmosphere…
Closing her eyes, Fluttershy offered a short prayer that Celestia would be successful in restoring the Grid. Or at least that Twilight Sparkle’s mission would be a success. Somehow.
“Why did you pick up Twilight at the train station?” Fluttershy was finally able to ask. She paused, letting her stomach gurgle back into place as the motorbike—mercifully—slowed long enough for a turn down an alleyway.
“Oh, that’s easy!” cried Pinkie. Her fingers twitched on the handlebars—one of her many unusual tics. “I recognized her private network code. StarryNight102.we!”
Fluttershy stared at the back of her friend’s helmet. She tried to rack her brain for that PN code, but nothing came to mind. “I’m sorry, I don’t—”
“Duh!” Pinkie Pie took one hand off the steering and smacked the side of her helmet, making Fluttershy cringe in terror as the bike wobbled a little to the left. “It’s Swirly!”
“S-StarSwirl70?” Fluttershy opened her mouth to argue the point—and then immediately closed it.
To her surprise, that explained a lot. It explained why Twilight was so standoffish; she’d been the same when she first joined the forum. It put her interest and connection to their circle of friends into a more positive light. And no forum friend would take her seriously if she introduced herself as StarSwirl70 and then started rambling about evil data ghosts and a secret mission to the Vault. Even though Fluttershy lived by a personal code that dictated kindness to all—and raising her voice toward a very deserving few—she had to admit she wouldn’t have felt so charitable to Twilight if she hadn’t handled herself so well.
Looking back, Fluttershy felt ridiculous for having jumped to conclusions about Twilight being a clinic license inspector from Citadel. She blushed and rested her head on Pinkie’s shoulder.
While Fluttershy was thinking about their new friend—and all the questions she’d wanted to ask StarSwirl70—Pinkie Pie eased up on the handlebars, letting her bike coast toward an easy halt outside the fine limestone façade of Carousel.
Rarity’s nightclub was the most genteel place in town. Topped by a copper geodesic dome, the club took up a quarter of the block, three stories high and elegant in every way. However, at the moment, the local scrubber drones weren’t back online, so a distasteful layer of grime had begun to settle over the gleaming limestone. Fluttershy also didn’t miss the worrying flicker of the neon blue holographic signage—or the line of people shuffling in and out of the club’s front doors.
Seeing crowds waiting to enter Carousel was nothing new, even this early in the day. But what caught Fluttershy’s eye were the type of people waiting to go in. She saw families huddled together, clutching bags full of their personal belongings. She saw faces lined with fatigue and clothes that looked like they’d been slept in. Some of the people who left the club were smiling a little more, while the ones going in seemed gaunt and tired.
It wasn’t much of a deduction for Fluttershy. She’d always known how generous Rarity was with her resources. Of course she’d be the first entrepreneur to open her doors to the Grid-deprived.
As she and Pinkie Pie removed their helmets, Rarity herself emerged from the thickest part of the crowd. Fluttershy felt a tremor of shock pass through her when she saw how her friend’s hair fell limp to one side, with tiny strands of hair poking out at odd angles. There were bags under Rarity’s eyes and the front of her smart-silk gown was soiled with faded black handprints and splotches of some unspeakable fluids. Fluttershy didn’t hesitate to jump off the bike and close the distance to her distraught friend.
“Oh, thank goodness you’re here!” Rarity embraced Fluttershy without any of her usual propriety. She gave Fluttershy a long and tremendous hug, not the least bit concerned about the bystanders watching. “You won’t believe the issues I’ve had today! Why, the autochef is running on backup and at full capacity, and that’s nothing compared to the overcrowded restrooms upstairs!”
“Oh, we won’t be in the way,” said Fluttershy. She let go and held her friend at arm’s length. “I promise I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
“Perish the thought!” Rarity smiled lightly. “You’d never be a burden to me, darling. I’d be glad to have your help.” Her smile faltered as Pinkie bounded over to join their conversation. Though it didn’t last long, Fluttershy spotted a flicker of concern on Rarity’s face. “I… I could really use more friends right now. Something terrible’s come up and I need all the help I can get.”
That nervous churning feeling in Fluttershy’s stomach was back, but it didn’t have anything to do with motion sickness. Even Pinkie was quiet as she processed Rarity’s words. She shared a look with Fluttershy and then they were both reaching out to hug Rarity.
“Thank you,” their friend whispered back. She lifted her head, still showing an ounce of her old pride and confidence. “Please, dears, let’s go inside. It’ll be better this way.”
“But what about Applejack and Twilight?” asked Pinkie as she pointed her thumb back up Trost Lane. “They won’t be here for another three minutes!”
Rarity’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry. Who’s Twilight?”
“Oh, right!” Fluttershy glanced over at Pinkie, giving her a concerned look, before turning back to Rarity. “That’s another long story. We’ll talk about it inside, okay?”
With an unladylike sniffle, Rarity nodded and led the way back through the crowd of refugees.
For Twilight, stepping into the interior of the elite club called Carousel was like walking back into the comforting architecture of Citadel. She felt more at home among the neon green columns supporting a cerulean ceiling, where pinprick lights and submerged red orbs illuminated the entire scene. Her fingers ran over the luxurious surface of the synthetic leather couch. Of course it was synthetic; with an animal lover like Fluttershy in her circle, Rarity would probably never permit an actual bovine to be hurt for the sake of her décor.
Unfortunately, the sight of so many refugees camped out inside the nightclub reminded her of Citadel as well. Twilight counted at least a hundred and seventy-two people crammed onto the dance floor and the dining area. With glum and anxious expressions, they huddled together on spread-out mats, sharing meals taken from readymade cannisters. The silvery dais on the western wall, where performers and DJs usually set up, was now covered with relief packages, including the barrel full of fruit that Applejack had delivered.
Applejack herself sat next to Twilight on the couch, with the other girls sitting on top of cargo crates in a makeshift conversation circle. This included the club’s owner, Rarity, and one final addition to the group.
“So, StarSwirl, huh? Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re exactly how I pictured you.”
The voice belonged to the fifth and final coder on Twilight’s checklist. She smiled as she scanned Celestia’s readout on her visor for confirmation.
Synopsis: Rainbow Dash. Age 22. Repulsorcraft pilot for Wonderblaze, Inc. C-4 implant rating.
Administrator’s Notes: Rough around the edges, but fiercely loyal and talented.
“No offense taken,” Twilight answered with a smile. “I’m just glad to finally meet you. You don’t how worried I was about this assignment.”
Rainbow Dash shrugged and leaned back on the other end of the couch. While she resembled her friend Applejack in her musculature, the resemblance ended there. Twilight was used to seeing peculiar gene mods and cybernetics, but nothing like what this girl had. The rainbow-streaked hair she could accept, but the sky blue skin pigment was a touch odd. Not to mention, the pair of mirrorshades that had been surgically implanted over her eyes. Twilight felt very self-conscious when she looked at Rainbow Dash, only to see her own reflection staring back.
The orange coveralls that she wore didn’t help either. For some reason, they’d been ripped up at strategic points, revealing more blue skin and making Twilight question how safe and skilled a pilot this girl truly was. She could’ve passed for any refugee with a malfunctioning domestic assembler if not for the totally confident smile she wore.
Twilight sat back, regarding all her new friends—which was a misnomer, since they’d always been friends, just by different names. They were so comfortable around each other that Twilight was a touch jealous. Watching Spike get a scratch behind his ears from Rainbow Dash didn’t her feelings much.
“Listen, this assignment of yours is cool and all, but we’ve got more important stuff to worry about.” Rainbow Dash sank deeper into her end of the couch, losing her smile for a second.
Twilight blinked. “What could be more important than saving the whole Grid?”
“My sister, for a start!” Everyone turned to Rarity, whose fists had curled up in her sudden rage. She gave Twilight a wilting glare. “I swore I wouldn’t rest until all my neighbors and clients were safe, but now it’s different. Now that beast has my sister!”
“Our sisters,” Rainbow Dash corrected. Applejack followed up with an uncomfortable, silent nod.
Glancing between the three of them, Twilight felt herself sinking—or perhaps it was only her confidence. “I’m terribly sorry, but I don’t know what any of that means.”
“It means, Twilight,” Applejack said with a heavy, tired voice, “that there’s this local creep in town, calls himself Garble, and he’s got his claws on our little sisters. Dashie here told me that she saw his thugs snatch up the girls from the park this morning. They’re holed up in some fancy hotel and demanding a ransom.”
Again, Twilight blinked. “Why on Terra would anyone do that?”
“Grid crash,” said Rainbow Dash, shrugging. “Garble’s a little brown stain as far as Oldtown’s concerned, but take away the peace and safety of the Grid, and he’s looking to make a name for himself.”
“That ruffian,” Rarity added with total vehemence, “won’t be allowed to play games with my dear Sweetie Belle’s life! I swear on Celestia’s throne he won’t!”
Having seen the magnificence of Celestia’s throne room herself, Twilight was inclined to believe Rarity’s oath. She clasped her hands together and looked around at her friends, examining their faces one at a time.
Young but capable. That was the gist of Celestia’s report on them—including the stats and notes on Twilight herself. Looking at the girls now, Twilight knew the Sysadmin was telling the truth. But she felt she needed more. A demonstration. A sign of faith in their ability to handle the worst that Nightmare Moon and the entire Vault could throw at them.
Slowly, Twilight’s lips curved into a suggestive smile. She had the best idea. An audition that these girls—these coders—would never forget.
“What if,” she asked, “I could get them back?”
Five pairs of eyes—six, if she counted Spike—focused on Twilight’s face. Rarity’s glare softened to a look of genuine surprise, while the others all glanced at each other to confirm their reactions.
“I’d be the first to say heck yeah,” Applejack finally replied, “but unless you got a whole bunch of armed cyber mods I don’t know about, I don’t see how you could.”
“On my own? No, I can’t.” Twilight waved her hand over the group. “But then I’m not alone anymore, am I? Between the six of us and Spike’s network relay, we’ve got enough processor power and programming experience to run inteference. Put up a block on this Garble’s gang and steal the girls back.”
While she spoke, her pulse started to race. Twilight was back at the Institute, delivering a five-minute presentation to her shell coding class. She had the floor and she would take charge until her time was up. No one could stop her now.
And more than that, since leaving Citadel—and hating to admit it—Twilight did find herself enjoying her assignment. She missed the security of her home, but without proper power and signal strength, it wasn’t any better than an Oldtown residence. Until they stopped Nightmare Moon once and for all, she’d have to brave the danger and make the most of an awful time.
“Oh, my,” said Fluttershy. Clutching her knees into her chest, she shivered and added, “I’d support you, of course, but I wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“No one will,” Twilight reassured her. “Not if I can help it.”
“Though hurting Garble is perfectly acceptable,” Rarity added quickly.
“I know how to coordinate different data streams at the same time,” Twilight continued. She leaned back into the couch, just like Rainbow Dash was doing, and tried to mirror her air of confidence. “I guarantee that if you put me in the right place, I’ll do whatever I can to help you get your sisters back—so long as you agree to come with me to the Vault. Deal?”
An awkward silence fell over the group. Twilight didn’t feel so left out when she saw them exchange prolonged glances, sharing their own private chats in real-time.
Then Rainbow Dash turned to her with a guarded expression. “You promise you’ve got what it takes to do this? To hit ’em hard and fast?”
Twilight met her with a tight but friendly smile. “Wonderblaze21, be serious. You’ve seen my coding skills firsthand. You know exactly what I’m capable of.”
“Heh.” Rainbow’s solemn expression gave way to an earnest grin. “Well, all right. Count me in.”
“Me, too,” said Applejack.
“And me as well,” said Rarity.
Pinkie Pie wrapped her arm around Fluttershy’s shoulder and squeezed tightly. “Don’t forget us, too!” Fluttershy could only nod quietly, but there was no mistaking the stern resolve in her eyes.
For the first time that day, Twilight felt completely prepared for the challenges that lay ahead. She supposed she ought to go and savor the moment while it lasted.