We now return to War of the Worlds.
There was an explosion going off in Captain Adelbrand’s mind—a preview of coming attractions. He smiled as the Duchy hovered unaware in front of him, and as the countdown said “twenty-six”. You've got less than a minute, you piece of dirt.
“You can't do this, Adelbrand!” the Doctor yelled. So focused was Adelbrand on his target that he did not notice the alien's leap in time. He whipped his head around, striking the Doctor in the gut with the side of his horn, but the Doctor had already pressed the missile button and cancelled the launch.
Adelbrand stared at him as he lay winded on the ground. “You can't do this,” the Doctor wheezed.
Why would he object... oh. Adelbrand had to chuckle at this, the one note of levity he'd experienced all night. “I see. You think my target is Equestria—that I mean to spark Macrin's war. I assure you, nothing could be further from the truth.”
He faced the window once more. “The missiles will launch, and they will strike the bridge of the Duchy, executing Lieutenant Macrin and Pilot Luso for their crimes of treason and murder. My ship will be retaken, and justice will be done.” With more force than he meant, he slammed a hoof on the missile button again.
“What?” the Doctor said, as the countdown restarted. “You can't! Bon Bon, tell him he can't!”
Adelbrand peered back at the Doctor, who was now on his hooves again and pleading with Bon Bon. However, she shrugged. “You have to admit, it would solve literally all of our problems. Go ahead, Captain,” she said with a glance in his direction. Adelbrand did not deign to respond to this. As if the Captain should wait for a visitor's assent.
“Twenty... nineteen...”
“No,” the Doctor said, stepping forward. “Adelbrand, you have to stop.”
Adelbrand peered back at him. Surely there had to be some miscommunication. “I am not firing at your planet, Doctor—or should I say, your adoptive planet. Did you not hear me?”
“I know exactly where you intend to fire those missiles,” the Doctor said. “And I can't let that happen.” He took a step forward, but Adelbrand lowered his head, displaying his horns. “If you don't like it, you'll have to kill me first.”
Bon Bon zipped over to stand between Adelbrand and the Doctor. “Oh no you don't,” she said. “No deathwishes!”
“Do you need to regrow your mind as well as your leg?” Adelbrand said. His voice, despite his desire to keep it at a professional volume, was rising. “I'm trying to save your planet from war—I'm trying to do my duty as a captain! Now stay out of my way!”
“Six... five...”
“This isn't duty,” the Doctor yelled, “this is revenge! Macrin betrayed you, and now you want to get him back!” Abruptly he weaved around Bon Bon and darted forward; Adelbrand was too slow to stop him from pressing the button once more, but he did catch the stallion with his horns across the temple. The Doctor collapsed.
“Don't do that!” Bon Bon said, shoving a leg under his head at the last moment to stop it striking the floor.
“How are you so blind?” Adelbrand roared. “He blew off your leg! He tried to kill Ermi! He did kill Qeta! And he will kill thousands more on the planet below—or do you not care about them, alien?”
The Doctor pulled his head off Bon Bon's leg to glare at Adelbrand, but did not respond. Adelbrand bent down to his level and hissed, “You've made your point. You've proven that you have no idea what it means to make the hard choices, no stomach to do what's necessary. But I am the Captain of this vessel, personally chosen by the Archdukes themselves, and by all that is just, Lieutenant Macrin is going to die.” He stood and pressed the button for the final time.
“Missiles launching in thirty seconds.”
“This isn't the hard choice.”
Adelbrand glanced down at the Doctor, who glared at him still. The Doctor continued, “You're drunk on grief and duty, and on the belief that if you just kill the right person, the pain will vanish and you'll be whole. Killing can't fill the void, Captain—it just opens it wider.”
He pulled himself to a shaky sitting position. “And you know nothing about the so-called 'hard choice'. You haven't realized that it's actually the easiest choice you'll ever make, because to you it's the only choice. But there's another way. The truly hard way.”
“Twelve... eleven...”
“What?” Adelbrand said, and to his surprise he had to force the words past something in his throat. He couldn’t succumb to emotion, not now.
“Hope.” The Doctor stood to his full height, taller than Adelbrand. “Macrin is an insane murderer, but he was your friend once, wasn't he? There must have been good in him, and there can be again.”
“He killed Qeta,” Adelbrand said, and the words came out with a sob. “He killed her....”
“You can't save her, Captain, but maybe you can save him. Or at least you can try.”
“No,” he said, trying to choke back the tears as the Doctor reached for the button. “No!” He lunged forward, checking the Doctor with his body. “He has to die!”
“Three... two... one... missile launch canceled.”
The Doctor, Adelbrand knew, had not done it, and he certainly had not canceled the launch himself. Through blurred eyes, he looked up at the rest of the bridge. Bon Bon was still beside the Doctor, but Rarity—sitting in the corner of the room—had a blue aura playing around her horn. Looking back at the control panel, he saw the same aura on the depressed button.
“Why,” he said. “Why did you....” He pulled himself off the Doctor and staggered over to Rarity, who watched him with an expression of near composure. “Qeta was your friend. She said only the best things about you.”
She made a small smile. “I like to think that she's still my friend, now and always. But everyone deserves a first impression... and a second chance. At least, that's my philosophy... and I may not be a captain or a Time Lord, but I like to think it's a decent one.”
Adelbrand felt a hoof on his shoulder, and turned to see that it was the Doctor's. “I made a promise earlier,” he said. “'No one else dies today—not one soul.' You've still got a soul, Captain, and despite everything so does your friend. Don't rip yours apart for grief's sake.”
Adelbrand locked his jaw, because he was afraid that whimpers would spill out if he did not. “Make the right choice,” the Doctor said. “The true hard choice.”
Bon Bon walked up behind the Doctor. “Always the optimist?” she asked.
He smiled back at her. “I haven't given up on it yet.”
She stood for a few seconds more, contemplating this, and then yelled, “Ship!” After a moment, Adelbrand realized that the module had had no pilot for over a minute, and was drifting sideways and downward.
He pulled himself rudely to his hooves and groped at controls he could hardly see, but with difficulty he found the steering and pulled them back on course. Then, he wiped his eyes and tapped a few more buttons on the panel with a hoof, and finally the missile control button. In his peripheral vision, he saw the Doctor start forward and open his mouth, but there was no need.
“Missiles locked for one day.”
He turned back to face the group behind him. “When we redock,” he said in a heavy voice, “Macrin won't be able to fire them. And I....” Realizing he could hardly see them, he blinked a few times; it had little effect. “I am afraid I cannot act as the pilot any longer. I'll need one of you to—” Choking on his words, he gestured dumbly at the controls behind him. Without waiting for someone to take the helm, he made his way to a corner, collapsed there, and stopped trying to hold back his sobs.
Applejack stopped Ermi before they exited the stairwell, blocking Pinkie and Lorio as well. “Before we get into dangerous territory,” Applejack said, “I gotta know; what's different about Warbots compared to Bullbots?”
“Heavier armor... guns inside the horns... and a video camera that links up with the ship and the rest of the Warbots.”
Applejack rolled her eyes. “So they can take our picture?”
Pinkie Pie forced a chuckle behind them: Ermi ignored it. “Yes, and then they can send it to all the others to let them know where we are. Once one finds us, the rest can follow.”
“How many are there?”
“Ten.”
“Anything else I should know about them?”
“You will lose in a straight fight.”
“Great,” Applejack muttered. “Well, let's get moving.” She stepped forward, but Ermi held her back. “What?”
“Wait,” Ermi said. A few seconds passed. “Okay, now.” Applejack had no idea what she'd heard, but it didn't seem like a good time to argue, so she followed Ermi as she walked up the corridor, then stopped. After a moment of hesitation, she made an urgent hoof-signal to start heading the other way, and Applejack obeyed without making any annoyed noises.
They continued in this fashion for several minutes: a hushed dash here, a u-turn there. Through it all, Applejack heard none of the metal on metal noises that had characterized the Bullbots' appearances, and she was beginning to be reminded of times Apple Bloom had come to her in the night as a younger filly, claiming to have heard a monster walking through the house.
“Can't we just—” she started to say, before some force shut her mouth. She glared at Lorio, whose horns were glowing and who, without looking at her, raised a hoof to his own lips. Oh, come on, she wanted to say. I was whispering.
“But why can't we—” Pinkie Pie said, a bit louder; then, Lorio's magic was squeezing her lips shut too. Ermi stared at the two of them for a moment with wide eyes, then took off at a dead run in the opposite direction from where they'd been going. Lorio followed right after her, leaving Pinkie and Applejack in the corridor. They looked at each other in confusion, and Applejack got the impression that they were sharing a thought: They can't be THAT close, can they?
Then, Applejack heard a shot ring out. She flinched and looked over her shoulder to see a bulky mass of metal charging at them, yet she could not hear a single hoofstep. She and Pinkie started running, and not a moment too soon: as they turned the corner that Ermi and Lorio had turned left at, Applejack heard a second shot fire behind her. The bullet flew past her and struck a metal wall at the other end of the corridor with a loud retort.
“You idiots,” Ermi hissed as they regrouped against the wall. “I'll bet you thought they were far away.” When Pinkie nodded, she continued, “They know how not to be heard, and now one's coming for us. If we're very lucky—”
A metal tentacle snaked around the corner of the wall and fired. Somehow, Pinkie managed to pull Applejack to the ground fast enough that the bullet sailed over their heads. Meanwhile, Lorio fired up his magic and, neck bulging with the strain, twisted the tentacle past the corner and out of Applejack's field of vision. She heard another shot, an immediate impact, and then nothing but Lorio breathing heavily.
“Thanks,” she said to Pinkie.
“For what?” Pinkie replied. Applejack rolled her eyes, then—unable to restrain her curiosity—darted to the corner and got her first look at the Warbot.
They don't have much imagination, these Betaurans. The Warbot was identical to a Bullbot, save for a few details. It was covered in thick armor that increased its width by perhaps three inches, its tentacles had holes at the ends for shooting, and its head was utterly destroyed. Of course, Applejack realized, that was not usually a feature of the Warbot: Lorio had forced it to fire upon itself.
“So are we good?” she asked, poking the thing that had once been its head. Ermi slapped her hoof away. “Watch it!”
“Didn't I tell you that they coordinate?” Ermi said. “Now they all know where we are. Can you hear them?”
Applejack strained her ears, but the ship might as well have been one of the apple orchards at three in the morning for all the noise she heard. When she shook her head, Ermi said, “And you're not going to hear them no matter how close they are. So shut up, count yourself lucky that I know what to listen for, and follow.”
Applejack bit her tongue and did as she was told as Ermi set off at a quick jog down the corridor. She turned left and right, went up and down stairwells, without any apparent rhyme or reason. On any normal night, Applejack would have been able to outpace her, but it had to be early in the morning by this point, and she was already tired and sore-legged from kicking Bullbots. It wasn't long before she couldn't stop herself from panting loudly, let alone keep her hoofsteps quiet.
“I don't... know if I can... keep up,” she said. No one in the group seemed to notice her complaint, as she slowly but surely lagging behind them. Come on, Applejack, she thought. You're the best darned athlete this side of Equestria. If a bunch of ornery bulls can keep this up, you can! The mental motivation did either little or nothing to help; she couldn't tell which.
“Can you just...” she tried. Pinkie, at least, glanced back at her, but the two Betaurans didn't even give her that courtesy. Right, I forgot. It's 'always leave a bull behind' with these fellas. What a bunch of—
A bullet ripped into her side. She cried out and tumbled to the floor, biting her tongue hard and fast enough to draw blood in an attempt to control the pain, the tearing of the flesh that she didn't have the heart to look at—
Focus, she told herself, and looked up. The corner was less than a foot away from her, but one abortive attempt at moving her hind legs told her that was much too far. She cringed, and chanced a look back over her own flesh at the Warbot—or rather, Warbots; four of them advanced on her in cold silence. All of their horns pointed right at her. She gritted her teeth and waited.
Then she felt hooves around her forelegs; someone was grabbing her and pulling her back. As the Warbots' bullets flew over her head, she looked up and opened her mouth to thank Pinkie Pie again, but it was Lorio pulling her from harm's way. Within the second he had her around the corner.
“I thought you didn't,” she started to say, before a fresh wave of pain made her seize up.
“Wow, Applejack!” Pinkie Pie was on the ceiling above her. Applejack ignored this. “Don't let Rarity see you like that, she'll probably say that shade of red clashes! Haha!” She blew on a party horn, then dropped to the floor. “Gotta say, Qeta wore it better. I give it a nine out of nine out of nine out of....”
She trailed off. The Warbots had to be feet away. “You got shot, didn't you?” she said in the voice of a small child who'd found her cat lying motionless in the road. Applejack nodded. “Qeta's not coming back, is she?” Applejack shook her head.
Pinkie dropped for a moment like an unwatered flower. Then, worryingly, she started to vibrate. Her eye twitched at a million miles an hour, but besides that her face was covered in absolute seriousness. “Not again,” she muttered. “Not again not again not again not again not again—” And then she was gone.
“Don't—” Lorio said, as Pinkie Pie disappeared into the corridor. Gunfire erupted, but after the first few shots it was drowned out by the sounds of cannon fire, party favors, and pinball collisions.
Then, everything was silent, save for some white noise that could have been the wind’s whisper.
Applejack gritted her teeth—she had to see this. Doing her best to ignore the pain, she let herself flop over into the corridor and twisted her neck. There were the four Warbots, covered in dozens of dents and innumerable pieces of confetti. Behind all of them stood Pinkie Pie who still had the same wild, unfocused stare in her eyes, whose mouth still ran like a waterfall. Applejack realized that the white noise was her constant muttering. “Not again not again not again not again not again not again...”
She took a deep breath, and then another. “I'm okay,” Applejack gasped, even as the pain wracking her body made her doubt this statement. Pinkie Pie simply stood there and kept heaving breaths.
“Get back up here,” Lorio said, roughly pulling her against the wall. A small voice in Applejack's head told her that he was probably being gentle, and that it felt rough because of her injury, but she didn't have the patience for that small voice at the moment.
She glowered at him as he peered at her wound. “See,” she whispered, “this is why y'all shouldn't have brought guns.”
“You assume so much about us,” he muttered. “That we share the same philosophy because we share the same planet. That because we have weapons, we must therefore love war.”
Applejack snorted, even though it was painful. “Your brother can't stop talking about it.”
“He's too young.”
“My little sister's just a filly, and you won't hear her—”
A sudden spurt of his magic pressed the bullet against the wound, and her words were cut off by a strangled yell. Lorio glared at her with gritted teeth and contempt in his eyes. “You are ignorant,” he said. “So I will tell you a few things.
“My father—our father—fought in the Last Grand Unifying War. I was old enough to remember the last time he left home, before the final offensive. And I remember him telling me the true purpose of war.” Without warning, his magic yanked the bullet from her wound, and she winced in pain. “Peace. And we've had it on our planet since then, and I swear to you that the cost was worth it.
“Luso,” he continued, pulling a vial from one of his coat's pockets, “wasn't born yet. And I love my little brother, but he is a young fool when it comes to war and glory. But these are his faults. He never received that wisdom. He never went to that funeral.”
His glare was now almost as painful as Applejack's wound. She turned her head to the floor. “Do you understand now?” he said. “If I decided that your personal flaws were common to your species, I might conclude that Equestrians are boorish, backward, and afraid of change. And too quick to judge before you know the facts.”
Here he closed his eyes to concentrate, and magic poured from his horns into her flesh, regrowing it. Within a few seconds, he was breathing heavily, and Applejack could not feel any more ripping pain from her side—just a persistent weakness. She didn't feel like she was up for much kicking, but maybe she'd be able to stand.
“But I....” Lorio took a deep breath before concluding, “But I am a scientist. And I am always willing to take new evidence into account. Now don't get shot again; I don't have many more healing spells in me.” He turned and started walking away.
“Wait!” Applejack said. He stopped and looked back at her. “I'm....” What the heck am I? she wondered. I might not be shooting anyone, but I'm acting as much a cad as his little brother.
As he stood there, she made a decision, and with many a wince stood up. Well, one thing I'm not is afraid of change. “I'm sorry about your dad,” she said. “And, uh... do you wanna take a blood sample?”
He narrowed his eyes at her for a second; then, a big smile pulled back his lips.
It was easy enough to ignore the pink monstrosity at the end of the corridor—she had to be a monstrosity: what else could take down four of her girls within seconds?—and so Ermi did just that in favor of kneeling at each Warbot in turn. On each she rested a hoof, closing her eyes in a moment of silence.
Once she'd done this for all four of them, she looked up to Pinkie and said, “We should go.” Pinkie didn't seem to hear her for a moment and stared past her, but then something seemed to click, and the pony gave her a sad smile. She walked toward Ermi at a reserved pace, and Ermi fell in with her.
“Do you ever feel bad for fireworks?” Pinkie said after a while.
Ermi stopped and peered at her. “What?”
“Fireworks? You know, bang boom razzadoom, but teeny-weeny? Not a missile, just for fun?” Ermi shook her head. Pinkie continued. “So you shoot them up into the air, and they make a whooshing noise, like this.” She whistled long and low. “And then, whapow!” She threw her hooves in the air. “Big explosion! Lights and pretty colors and cover your ears!”
There was something Ermi wasn't understanding. “Why would you feel bad for them?”
“Because then they're gone!” Pinkie dropped back to the ground with a frown. “They're gone in like a second, and I'm just thinking, why can't they be in the sky all the time? Why can't you look up whenever, and see fireworks hanging there?”
“If you want durable, try robots,” Ermi said, stroking the dented back of one of the Warbots as she walked past it. “They won't let you down. Not unless people make them let you down.”
“Yeah, except... that's not the point of fireworks, is it?” Pinkie was smiling at her again. “You're not supposed to feel bad for them after the show's over. You're just supposed to be happy you got to watch them shine in the first place.”
We weren't ever talking about fireworks in the first place, were we. Ermi wasn't quite sure what to do, but she thought a nod might help. Pinkie seemed to accept it; she nodded back, and trotted forward. Ermi, on the other hand, slowed down and gazed back at her girls on the floor. You know... maybe I should stop calling them 'girls'. They're robots. They don't have genders.
She shrugged and rounded the corner, where Lorio and Applejack were—for some reason—smiling at each other. “Applejack!” Pinkie exclaimed, leaping forward and hugging her friend. “You're okay!”
“Whoa there, tiger,” Applejack said, wincing. “It's not a hundred percent yet.”
“Sorry sorry sorry.” Pinkie loosened her grip. “Hey, you like watching fireworks, right?”
“Uh... I guess?”
Pinkie beamed, and her grip retightened; she didn't seem to notice Applejack's second wince. Doing her best to conceal the pain, Applejack said, “So, uh, should we keep moving? I thought those Warbots were coordinated, and they were all gonna swarm or something. Unless you can pull another stunt like that, Pinkie.”
“One time thing,” she replied, her voice muffled by the orange coat she was pressing her face against. “Unless something bad happens to you again. Please don't have something bad happen to you again.”
“We have ten girls—Warbots, and five have just been taken out of commission,” Ermi said. “But I'm guessing that those were the only five on this module. The rest would be waiting on Duchy-5, to ambush the other group....” As the implications reached her, she trailed off. “We should keep moving.”
“Okay,” Applejack said, prying Pinkie off her side. “But... slower this time?”
Upon Macrin's return from deploying the Warbots, he opened the bridge door to see Luso glaring at him. “We need to talk,” Luso said.
“Macrin, you need to stop,” said a voice in Macrin's head. He ignored this in favor of returning Luso's glare.
“We need to talk, sir,” he corrected.
“I'm not sure I'd go that far anymore.” Luso turned and jabbed at a screen on one side of the console. “Care to explain what's going on there?”
On the screen, Macrin recognized the confused scene of a battle through one of the Warbots' cameras. There, in front of the Warbot, was Applejack, who yelped in pain like a child as a bullet hit her side. Macrin grinned in triumph, then watched as Lorio darted out from behind the wall and pulled her back with his magic, just barely dodging more bullets himself.
Luso pressed a button to the right of the screen, stopping the video, then glared back up at Macrin. “Explain.”
Macrin noticed that, with the video stopped, the screen had become black and reflective; he quickly looked back at Luso and said, “Explain what?”
“Why my brother almost got killed.”
Macrin snorted. “Because he got in the way. Have you never heard of collateral damage, Pilot?”
“That's a load of crap, sir.” Luso slammed a hoof on the screen. “The Warbots shouldn't have fired on him at all, if you told them to detain only. In fact, why did you use the Warbots? Bullbots alone would be sufficient.”
“Macrin, you have to stop.”
Shut up, Macrin thought. “I don't have to justify myself to you,” he said, closing his eyes and turning away from his pilot.
“We had an agreement, Macrin.” Judging by where Luso's voice was coming from, he'd walked right in front of Macrin's face. “No one on the crew gets killed.”
Macrin gritted his teeth. “And they haven't—”
“Well, they've come pretty damn close!” Luso yelled. Macrin winced at the noise, and turned away. “Macrin, I said I wasn't going to ask why you dropped those modules, but you can consider that promise rescinded. I want answers.”
“Tough,” Macrin said, opening his eyes and fixing Luso with a glare he wouldn't be able to ignore. “You're going to do your mission, soldier, and you're going to do it without—”
“Macrin, it's me.”
“SHUT UP!” he roared, whirling around to face the screen where he knew that that coward would be waiting for him. There she was, with those frightened eyes as his horn entered her chest. “I told you not to follow! It's your fault, not mine! You made me kill you, Qeta!”
He panted and watched her crumple to the ground, then lifted a hoof to wipe the blood from his horn. When his hoof came down unstained, he wiped harder, only to realize that his horn was clean, and that Luso was staring at him in horror.
“You... killed Qeta?” he said.
Macrin bared his teeth. “Qeta committed suicide on my horn.”
“You lying son of a—what is wrong with you?” Luso yelled. “You... you promised!”
“Consider that promise rescinded, soldier.” Macrin took a step forward. “What's wrong? You didn't realize that people died in wars?”
Luso ran a frantic hoof across his forehead. “They die in wars! Not us! This wasn't what I....” He lowered his head, displaying his horns, and dragged a hoof along the ground. “I'm going to stop you.”
Macrin snorted. “Then you're committing suicide too.” As Luso charged him, Macrin raised his light cannon and fired.
The bolt caught Luso in one of the horns, breaking it off at the tip. Luso roared as his magic flared up, but with one horn damaged it became unstable; Macrin felt its force fling him like a dummy across the room, and he landed in a corner near one of the tears. When he found his bearings several seconds later, Luso had disappeared. The boy must have run. So much the better.
“Macrin, you need to—”
“Stop TALKING!” He raised his cannon again and fired, shattering the window. A gust of wind threw the broken fragments of glass at his side like dust in a sandstorm. Against all his will, he collapsed to the ground, feeling the pieces dig into his skin.. He's wrong. They're wrong, not me. I can't be wrong. Not after all this.
Gritting his teeth, he stood up and faced the controls with new purpose. I am not wrong. A new day will dawn with fire and thunder upon the planet below, and they will know the truth.
It had taken some coaxing, but Rarity had agreed to take over from Adelbrand as the module's pilot. She stood where he had, her magic operating the various controls with, if not confidence, at least a basic competence.
The Doctor rested against a wall; he had a feeling he'd be needing his strength soon, and he was after all quite tired. Bon Bon was in a corner across from him, her expression brooding—though he knew she could have faked any emotion and he'd have bought it. As for Adelbrand, he paced the room randomly, like a scrap of paper in the wind—and after his earlier breakdown, he seemed about as substantial. All vestiges of his earlier captainly performance had crumbled.
After several minutes of this, and a few rough jolts from Rarity's piloting, Adelbrand landed next to the Doctor and sank into the wall. The Doctor glanced at him, but when it didn't seem like he was ready to talk, he looked away. No use in trying to force him. He instead began flexing and twisting his new foreleg; it had acquitted itself honorably in its first few hours, and he didn't want that changing.
“You were right, you know,” Adelbrand finally said.
The Doctor made an inquisitive grunt; anything more verbose seemed inappropriate.
“Macrin and I met in school. My father set it up with his mother—old war buddies. And Macrin really was a great friend back then. The best friend ever.” He looked upward with the vacant expression of remembrance. “We fired rockets off the cliffs into the barren deserts below, and laughed until our parents found out. And when the rain forced us inside, we'd confide everything in each other. All the bad, and all the good.” He paused for a minute, then added, “Come to think of it, sessions like those became more one-sided as we aged—he didn't say as much. I didn't notice. I was always happy to have a friend.”
“Funny thing; the ponies from around here put a lot of stock in that.” The Doctor shrugged his one shoulder. “Well, I understate.”
“‘The ponies around here’, but not you?” Adelbrand looked over at him for a moment, then snorted. “I suppose not. You look so similar, but... what did they call you? Time Lord?”
“Species name, yeah. Sorry if it sounds a bit pompous, which, in fairness, it is.”
“And you're the only one?”
The Doctor stared at him with his jaw slightly agape. “What?”
“On this planet, I mean. You're the only one of your species in Equestria.”
“Yes, I suppose.” Relieved, the Doctor sank back into the wall. “Last of the Time Lords here.”
Adelbrand looked away again, contemplative. “It must be hard for you.”
“Less than you'd think,” the Doctor said, shrugging. “And then again, maybe more than I'd think.”
“The responsibility of a whole culture riding on your shoulders.”
“What?” The Doctor hooted. “Responsibility? I escaped my planet ages ago.”
Adelbrand turned to face him, confused by the Doctor's open-mouthed grin, and said, “Escaped? How could you—why would you escape?”
“Because....” The Doctor rubbed his head. On shorter nights than this, an explanation might have come faster, but it took him perhaps ten seconds to devise a reply. “Because... look up.”
It didn't seem to be any reply Adelbrand had been expecting, but nonetheless he did as instructed, then looked back down in disappointment. “That's the ceiling.”
“I know, you can't see much from here, but....” The Doctor pulled his hoof backward to the wall. “Strip away the ceiling, and...?”
“We'd see the stars.”
“No!” the Doctor said, with an accompanying gesture that almost hit Adelbrand in the face. Reining himself in, he explained: “We'd only see a tiny, laughable fraction of the stars! And that's all the Time Lords ever wanted for us, at least officially. Look, but don't touch! Stay beneath that ceiling, and never interfere! Enough to drive a person mad!” And it might have, he thought wryly. Adelbrand was looking at him like he wasn't sure about that notion one way or the other.
The Doctor let himself relax against the wall once more. “Getting away from that... that was worth an exile. That's worth anything.”
“Was it?”
“Oh yes.” The Doctor looked up at the ceiling—through the ceiling, if he squinted and gave in to imagination. “The universe is too gorgeous a place not to live in.”
They were quiet for a few minutes, and then Rarity spoke up from the controls. “Excuse me, but what control do I use to allow us to dock with the rest of the ship?”
“It, um....” Adelbrand stood and spoke hesitantly. “It activates automatically, if you've come in precisely. Don't, um... worry if you don't get it the first—”
“Oh!” Rarity said, turning around and flashing a surprised smile. “Then I believe we have docked.”
Adelbrand blinked. “The first try?”
“Well, it wasn't too difficult to coordinate, you know.” She winked. “Now come on, we have a rendezvous to make!” Without waiting for assent, she trotted out of the room. Adelbrand followed her, followed by the Doctor, and finally followed by—as he realized several seconds later—no one.
He poked his head back into the bridge and saw Bon Bon still brooding in the corner. “Coming?”
“What? Oh, yeah.” She stood and started walking. “Sorry, just thinking about some things you said.”
“Oh really?” He raised an eyebrow as they fell into lockstep side by side. “And what was the subject?”
“The world, I guess.” After a few seconds of silence, during which they caught up to Rarity and Adelbrand, she added, “And optimism. Which I still think is dumb, but it's nice.”
“I do my best.” The Doctor considered this for a moment, then amended: “Well, to be nice, at any rate.”
The little group reached a door connecting to the rest of the ship, and Adelbrand positioned himself in front. “Remember,” he said, “our main goal for now is to link back up with the other four.”
“Really? Wasn't it to kill your crazy friend?” Bon Bon said.
Adelbrand and Rarity glared at her in the sort of unison that won Olympic medals. The Doctor just sighed. “That was bad, wasn't it,” she said a few seconds later.
He nodded. “Er, a bit entirely, yeah.”
“Okay, sorry,” she said with a frown. “Moving on?” She reached over Adelbrand to press the button that would open the door, but before she'd reached it the door opened on its own. Standing behind it were several of what looked like Bullbots, but with thicker armor and holes at the end of their tentacle-horns—all of which were pointed at them.
Adelbrand made to charge forward, but the Doctor was quicker. “Bad moment,” he said, pushing the button. As the door closed, he heard bullets ricochet off it. “Let's move,” he said, grabbing Bon Bon and Rarity to pull them into a run. Adelbrand followed quickly behind.
“They've activated the Warbots!” Adelbrand said as they turned a corner and ran down the length of the module. Behind them, the Doctor heard the door opening again and the sound of gunfire. “We're going to need to defend ourselves. Follow me!” He surged to the front of the group and took an abrupt right into a narrow corridor. He slammed his hoof into a pad on the wall, and a door beside it opened.
Behind the door were racks of the same sort of light cannon that Macrin had used. “Arm yourselves,” Adelbrand said, slipping his hoof into one of them.
Rarity took an involuntary step back. “If it's all the same, I'd rather not.”
“I don't work well with guns,” the Doctor said. “And neither do my—” He stopped talking as Bon Bon pulled a second cannon onto her hoof. “Oh, come on,” he said as his shoulders slackened.
Bon Bon rolled her eyes. “Not the time for screwing around, Doctor,” she said. “How do you fire it, Captain?”
As Adelbrand demonstrated the proper motion, and Bon Bon copied, the Doctor stuck a head out the door. The Warbots' hoofsteps were incredibly light, and he suspected that a normal pony would not perceive the sounds, but his ears told him that they were seconds away. “We need to go,” he said, turning back to the room.
“We can fight them, Doctor!” Adelbrand said.
“Not here,” he said. “Not in this dead end. We need to fight smart. Now come on!” He ran out of the room, away from the faint sounds of metal on metal. Rarity followed immediately; Bon Bon and Adelbrand were only a second later, dashing down the corridor.
As they reached the end, the Warbots reached the beginning, but Adelbrand—at the back of the group—was ready; he spun and fired as he turned the corner, sending a bolt of energy at the lead Warbot. It flinched at the impact, and some of its armor melted, but it was not destroyed, and more were just behind.
“They'll circle around and surround us,” Adelbrand said, resuming his running pace. “We need to change floors immediately.” After a moment, he stopped and turned around; no one was following him. “Are you listening?” he yelled.
“Change floors, you said?” The Doctor grinned. “Oh yes, I listened. Bon Bon!” he yelled, pointing at the section of floor that marked the intersection of the two corridors. “Fire your weapon right there. Do it now.”
“Um, sure?” she said, pointing the cannon downward. Several bolts of light flew out and struck the floor, leaving it red-hot and sagging slightly. As one of the Warbots rounded the corner, its front hoof went right into the floor, followed by the rest of its body. The weakened metal gave way under the weight, and the Warbot fell through with a massive crash. The Doctor heard the others' hoofsteps halt before the hole, before turning and running the other way.
“There,” the Doctor said, peering into the hole. The Warbot lay a floor below, barely recognizable under the molten steel that encased it. “We trick them. We ambush them. And we never fight head-on. You got that?” he asked, as Adelbrand looked through the same hole.
After a long pause, Adelbrand said, “Understood,” and turned around. “Now we need to find that stairwell.”
Adelbrand had a lot to say and no opportunity to do so. He knew how good the Warbots' sense of hearing was; speech would be suicidal at this point. So he simply followed the Doctor out of the stairwell and kept his mouth shut, while his mind boiled over.
“Hey, Macrin,” he remembered saying. “So, how was your first day? As grueling as mine?”
Macrin wore a tired, contented smile as he climbed into the bunk above Adelbrand's. “Everything I hoped for and more. We were born for this, Adelbrand.”
With a groan, Adelbrand flopped onto his own bunk—not very luxurious, or even comfortable, but then boot camp spat on such frivolities as comfort. The room around them was smaller than his old bedroom at home, but was fitted with two bunkbeds. It hardly seemed restful enough for the day he'd just endured, one filled with miles of running, acres of mud, and far too many decibels of volume from drill sergeants. “Maybe you were born for this,” he said. “I'm having my doubts.”
The Doctor stopped dead and looked back at Adelbrand, first jabbing silently at his light cannon, then placing a hoof over his mouth. After a moment, Adelbrand realized that in his distraction he'd been letting the weapon clink on the ground, and lifted it. The Doctor nodded and continued onward, and Adelbrand followed on three legs.
“Oh, by the way, your medication,” Adelbrand said, grabbing the pill bottle from the bedside table. In his fatigue, however, it slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor. Sighing, he pulled himself out of his bed, but before he could fumble for the bottle, another hoof had grasped it.
He looked up to see a granite-blue face smiling at him. “No offense, but you've got all the grappling ability of a limp fish.”
Adelbrand snorted. “A what?”
“You know, because... fish don't have... oh, never mind.” She looked up at where Macrin was resting. “Is this for your friend up there? Oh, I'm Qeta, by the way,” she added, glancing back down at Adelbrand. “Looks like we're roommates, though I dunno where the fourth bull is.” She jerked her head back over at the bunk above her own.
“He or she had better appear soon,” Macrin said, leaning down over his railing. “Curfew's already begun. And for that matter, you should be quieter.”
“Oh, lighten up, uh... Macrin, right?” She looked up at him. “What's the worst that could happen? The monsters in the closet will hear us?”
“Get down!” the Doctor yelled, grabbing Adelbrand and pulling him to the side as gunfire sounded behind him. As the two fell into an adjoining corridor, Bon Bon poured several blasts into the floor of the corner. The Warbots, however, did not approach it; evidently they had learned from the last one's destruction.
“Which... which way to Duchy-5?” Adelbrand asked, trying with difficulty to pull himself from memories that didn't want to let go.
“I believe...” Rarity said, closing her eyes and concentrating. “It's that way,” she finished, pointing down the corridor they'd just left. “But I doubt those Warbots will let us pass.”
The Doctor, frowning, untucked his tie from his suit and swung it out past the corner. Several shots rang out, and when his tie swung back it had a hole through the middle. “Dreadful thing to do to a tie,” Rarity said, shivering. “Are they to the left or the right?”
“Left.”
“Then I may have an idea.” Rarity screwed up her face again, and her horn lit up blue, as did the molten piece of floor. She grunted with exertion, and the square of metal tore away from the surrounding floor, rising slowly as a fresh hail of bullets perforated it, and the roar of massive engines filled the room. Then it flew to the left, and Adelbrand heard a wet thunk as it hit what he hoped was a Warbot.
The Doctor swung his tie out again, and when no gunfire came, he poked his head out. A smile came onto his face. “Got one,” he yelled, stepping gingerly over the hole that had been left by Rarity's maneuver. “Now let's move.”
Adelbrand looked left and saw the Warbot twitching, its head and horns cocooned by the molten metal. Then he glanced through the hole and saw not his ship but the city of Canterlot below. He'd forgotten that they were on the bottom level. That would explain the roar of engines.
“Mind the gap, now,” the Doctor said, beckoning to him. “Don't want anything to happen.”
“It's not about what could happen,” Macrin said, “it's about military discipline.”
“But what military?” Qeta smiled. “Think about it. War's over. My mom fought the last fight—losing side, by the way. Fun fact. Didn't actually matter after reconciliation, though, did it, with all the peace and such?” She lifted a hoof in a questioning gesture. “And now? We're the first generation, ever, to not have to fight a war. Heck, I'm only here because it helps me pay for school.”
“Is this... relevant?” Macrin squinted. “And could I please have my pills?”
“Relevant?” Qeta said. “It's the biggest change in a thousand years! Everything is different now! Have you never thought about that?”
“My pills!” Macrin barked.
“QUIET!” roared a voice outside their room. The three of them stiffened and turned toward the door. “IT IS NOW CURFEW!”
Qeta waited half a minute, then whispered, “Sorry. Cheers.” She tossed the pills up to Macrin, then rolled into her bunk. Adelbrand followed suit.
“Thanks,” Macrin said, grabbing the bottle.
Adelbrand was quiet for a while, listening to Macrin fumble with the bottle's lid. “Macrin?” he finally asked. After his friend grunted back, he continued, “If there's no wars anymore, then... what are we doing here?”
“Here we are,” the Doctor was saying, gently pressing the button to the door that separated their module from the rest of the ship. When it opened, and when no Warbots were there to shoot them, the group moved forward. “Hang on,” he said, and the group stopped. He cocked an ear.
“What is it?” Bon Bon whispered.
“Can you hear them?” the Doctor said. “Footsteps—hoofsteps, sorry—and they don't sound metal on metal. Come on!” He ran forward, and Adelbrand, vaguely conscious of his meaning, followed.
Macrin didn't answer right away, but he did stop trying to open the bottle. Eventually, he said, “Adelbrand, there may not be any more need for war, but there will always be a need for soldiers. Bulls who are willing to fight, to die, for what is right and true. The world will always need that.”
“And....” Adelbrand gulped. “What if I'm not... that? What if I'm not a soldier?”
“Then become one. Hold on to what you believe and never let it go. Fight for it with everything you've got, and become the best damn soldier on the planet.”
“Thanks,” Adelbrand said, relaxing a bit. “I think I’ll try that.”
“No problem.”
At last, Adelbrand heard the sound of the lid coming off. “To soldiers,” Macrin said, and though Adelbrand couldn't see him, he knew his friend was raising the bottle as in a toast.
“To soldiers,” Adelbrand said.
“To soldiers,” Qeta repeated. Adelbrand looked over to see her smiling at them. “And good night.”
They ran up a stairwell, burst from it, and almost collided with Applejack. “Rarity!” she exclaimed, quickly embracing her friend. “Bon Bon—Cap—Doc! Hey, gang!” she said, calling up the corridor to Ermi, Pinkie, and Lorio. “They're okay!”
“Doctor,” the Doctor corrected, as those three came and joined them. Pinkie body-checked Applejack out of the way to get Rarity in a hug. “We've taken out two. You?”
“Your pink friend went berserk and destroyed four of them,” Ermi said, “and Lorio took care of a fifth. So by my count there should be....”
She cocked an ear and narrowed her eyes. After a moment, the Doctor seemed to hear it too; the last three Warbots were coming for them. “Let's move,” she said, running in the opposite direction.
“I can't run!” Applejack yelled, limping after the Doctor, Rarity, and Pinkie as they followed Ermi. Bon Bon rolled her eyes and grabbed Applejack, helping her along. For some reason, it was then that Adelbrand realized that he should be running too, and he started.
“Captain?” Lorio asked, running beside him. “Are you okay?”
“I'm fine. I've just... had a lot to think about,” he said, catching up with the rest of the group as they rounded yet another corner. “Bon Bon, set up a trap.”
“You got it, boss,” she said, firing into the floor.
Ermi's mouth opened wide. “No, don't—”
But the bolt of light was much diminished, and after a few shots the floor didn't even seem warm. “Oh, not now,” she said, shaking the cannon. “What's wrong?”
Ermi grabbed her hoof and lifted it, despite Bon Bon's grunt. “It's been running at max power,” she said. “You've expended everything it's got, thank the Archdukes. Do you realize where we are right now?” Bon Bon shook her head. “Right over the engines,” she hissed. “You destroy that floor, we all fry.”
“All right,” Adelbrand said, pulling his own cannon off and sliding it to Bon Bon. “Put that on, and no traps here.” As she obliged, he turned to Ermi. “How long until they're here?”
“Seconds,” she replied. “We need to find a way to get around them.”
“Brilliant idea,” the Doctor said. “How?”
A moment of silence, and then Bon Bon laughed. “Oh, right!” she said, messing with something hidden in her mane. “I completely forgot I had this. Which I guess makes sense.” She pulled out a simple cord, wide enough to be worn around the neck, with a small metal box on it like a crude amulet.
“The perception filter?” the Doctor said.
“Hang on,” she said, putting it on and then pressing the metal piece. “The Bullbots won't know what hit them,” someone said; Adelbrand wasn't sure who. He squinted. Had there always been seven of them?
“What?” the Doctor said, gaping at nothing as nothing strode into the corridor. “No, Bon Bon, it doesn't... work on robots....”
“Who?” Lorio asked. “Who's 'Bon Bon'? Hey, where are you going—”
For the Doctor had just dashed into the corridor, for no apparent reason. “Bon Bon, wait!” he yelled. Adelbrand chanced a sneak peek around the corner and saw the Doctor tearing forward as a Warbot marched into view. “It won't work on—”
Gunfire erupted as the Doctor tackled something and dove to the side. There was a slight dinging sound, and Adelbrand finally noticed that his hooves were wrapped around Bon Bon, whose cannon had fallen from her hoof. The metal at the end of her necklace had been struck by a bullet. Adelbrand grit his teeth, knowing that soon her flesh and his would follow; there was no cover in the hallway, and all three Warbots were now present, their guns trained on the pair.
But then, something strange happened to the Warbots. A strange yellow mass of light had surrounded them, undulating and flickering weirdly; at moments it resolved itself into a prism, but mostly it was an amorphous blob. Whatever it was, the Warbots were suspended in it, and the bullets from their guns slowed to a halt almost as soon as they were fired, as if traveling through thick gel.
“Destroy them!” a hoarse voice yelled, apparently straining with effort. “Now! I can't control this!”
“Screwdriver!” the Doctor yelled, gesturing at Ermi, who lobbed it to him. With a grunt he thrust a leg forward, kicking Bon Bon's fallen cannon into the magic field, and pointed the screwdriver at it. The cannon glowed white for a moment, whistling at a rapidly increasing pitch—then it exploded, replacing the yellow light with white. Adelbrand shielded his eyes from the blinding flash.
When it subsided, he lowered his hoof and saw Bon Bon and the Doctor lying on the ground. Ermi, for some reason, was running the other way, but Lorio rushed over to them. “Are either of you hit?” he asked. “Please don't say yes. I have very little magic left.”
“I'm fine,” she said. “Just the perception filter got hit.” She prodded it a few times, and seemed to become indistinct, as if viewed through thick gauze. “I think it's broken.”
“Sort of....” The Doctor lifted an eyebrow. “It's like... I can see you, but I'm not sure it's you. Does that make sense?”
“Barely.” Bon Bon shrugged, pressed the device again, and stood, turning to face the now-melted Warbots; black ugly smoke rose from them, obscuring any view of what lay beyond. “So, thanks for saving my life and all, Mr. Racist Prick, but aren't you busy destroying the world?”
“What?” Lorio said, staring at her. “What did you say?”
“Didn't I tell you I'm good with voices?” Bon Bon shrugged. “That 'destroy them'? That was your prick brother.” Lorio gaped at the black smoke.
“Out of my way—” Ermi returned behind Adelbrand, bumping into him as she hefted a fire extinguisher with one hoof. Thick white smoke came out, cooling the melted Warbots enough that the black smoke they emitted started to lose its opacity. Behind it, Adelbrand could just make out a four-horned figure, before it turned and fled.
“No you don't—” Lorio grunted, and his horns lit up. A yellow light gleamed from behind the smoke, surrounding the bull shape and lifting it into the air.
“Get off!” the shape said, thrashing as it approached the veil, until Luso burst through the smoke and was dropped onto the ground. He was a sorry sight, shivering with exertion and pain, and something was wrong with his upper left horn. After a moment, Adelbrand saw what it was and recoiled in disgust; the tip had been broken off, leaving an irregularly pulsing yellow light at the stump.
Lorio glared down at him in anger, and Luso stood shakily and looked behind him, but the destroyed Warbots formed a barricade that was too hot to touch and too high to jump. He turned back and closed his eyes.
Captain Adelbrand stepped forward. “Pilot Luso. You have been complicit in mutiny and treason against a Captain of Gaius, and have attempted to attack a peaceful settlement without provocation. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”
“I didn't know,” Luso murmured, his head downcast and his eyes still closed. “I didn't know about her.”
“About who?” Lorio demanded.
Luso took a shaky breath before proceeding. “I suppose I am guilty of treason, and of mutiny, and all that, but... when Lieutenant Macrin and I agreed to this, he promised me that none of us would come to harm. And then he dropped those two sections off the back of the Duchy, and I guess I knew something was wrong, but I didn't know what... and then he lost it.”
He looked up at Adelbrand. “He started shouting, like he was hallucinating someone who wasn't there. And he said he'd killed Comm Officer Qeta. Is it true, sir? Is she...?”
Adelbrand, his eyes narrow, nodded. Luso flinched and turned away slightly. “I'm so sorry,” he said. “I'm so, so sorry. I didn't have any idea. If I'd known, I'd never have....”
“Just by the by,” Ermi said, looking up as she continued to cool the molten metal, “he also tried to have me killed.”
Luso flinched again. “The bull's insane, and I'm disgusted I ever let him trick me into this. And he's broken my horn,” he said, glancing at the stump. “I can barely control my magic now—I don't think I'll ever be able to pilot this ship again. So throw me in prison if you want, but first... I'd like to help take him down.” He saluted at Adelbrand. “Former pilot Luso at your command, sir.”
There was a long pause. It can't be a trick, Adelbrand mused. He'd still have his horn if it were a trick... but even so—even if he's genuinely sorry—how am I supposed to work with him?
His thoughts were interrupted as Applejack stepped forward and pressed Luso against the hot metal behind him. “You filthy cur,” she hissed, as Luso cried out in pain. “If your brother hadn't just pulled a bullet out of me, I would buck you so hard your teeth would go into orbit.”
“What—why are you—” Luso yelped.
Applejack pulled him from the metal and threw him to the ground. “So it's okay if thousands of Equestrians die in this big war you're looking to start with your buddy Macrin, right? But as soon as one bull bites it, that's going too far? You rotten, slimy—”
“What do you want from me?” Luso yelled.
She kneeled down to his level, wincing with pain, and grabbed his head. “Inside that rotten apple of a brain, there's a little worm of an idea that's got you thinking Betaurans are better than Equestrians. I want you to pull that worm out and kill it. Because as far as I'm concerned, that notion is the only reason we're in this mess in the first place! Is that clear?” she roared, right into his ear.
A yellow aura emerged at her front, pushing her roughly away from Luso. “That is enough,” Lorio said, stepping forward in her place. “You've made your point, and he understands. You do, don't you, Luso?”
Luso nodded.
Lorio stared at him. “We have a lot to talk about. But for now....” Abruptly he pulled his brother from the floor and into a hug. “Thank you for coming back,” he whispered.
Luso feebly flailed a foreleg for a few seconds before letting it rest on his brother's back. “Uh, thanks,” he said.
“And you are almost certainly going to jail.”
“Yeah, I, uh, I know.”
They stayed locked together in this way for some time, before the Doctor cleared his throat. And after he cleared his throat, too. Eventually, he sighed and said, “We need to move now. Macrin's the only one at the helm now, and I doubt he shares your sense of restraint.” This last comment was emphasized with a nod toward Luso. “Lead the way, Captain,” the Doctor continued.
“All right. Soldiers!” Adelbrand roared. “Move out!” He began marching down the corridor, plotting a course in his head that would take him to the bridge where that piece of filth—
No, he thought, shaking himself. He's my friend. He's made horrible mistakes, he's lost his mind, but maybe there's still a chance. Luso’s turned himself around; maybe Macrin can too.
It took only a few minutes to get to Duchy-6, the final module on the ship, and from there it took a few minutes more to travel its length. Here, the damage from the crash was particularly obvious; Adelbrand found himself stepping over fissures in the metal floor every few steps until he reached the doors to the bridge. Unlike the bridges of the other modules, this one was entered from the rear, and took up the whole of the front of the ship. Its doors were inset with onyx, which had sadly been cracked in the crash, and the button which opened them was... smoking.
“He's destroyed the controls!” Ermi said, grabbing the melted button. “That son of a—” Then, she noticed the two access panels on either side of the door, left open and with slashed wires hanging out. “You're joking.”
“I'm afraid not, Ermi.”
This voice was Macrin's, and though it was muffled by the closed doors, Adelbrand heard its clear note of insanity. “I have every confidence that you, Ermi, and you, Doctor, could force your way into this room, but I strongly advise against it. There is a bomb bay on the underside of this module, whose doors are currently closed. If these doors open—” Adelbrand heard him bang on the doors to the bridge “—then those will follow suit. There will be no countdown.”
“And what would that do?” the Doctor said, grimacing. “You attack Equestria, Celestia destroys your weapons and you with them. Face it, Macrin, even with a whole ship to hide behind you're no match for her!”
“Then I die for what I know is right!” Macrin bellowed. “Because that is what a soldier does!”
It's guilt, Adelbrand realized. He just wants to die at this point. Or am I just hoping that’s true? “Macrin!” he yelled, waving at the Doctor to be silent. “Macrin, you don't have to do this. You can stop. You don't have to die, you can just open the door and walk out. We won't harm you, you can just stop.”
“Or you could just jump,” Bon Bon muttered, quietly enough that Macrin—hopefully—would not hear.
“Of course you won't! Because you've forgotten what we are, Adelbrand. You've forgotten how we fight. And it's all thanks to him.”
“Who?” Adelbrand asked.
“SHUT UP!” Macrin yelled. Adelbrand's eyes widened as he heard several blasts from Macrin's hoof-cannon fire out. “JUST SHUT UP, QETA! SHUT UP!”
“She's not real, Macrin!” Adelbrand pressed himself against the door, as if he could force open five inches of solid steel with body weight alone. “She's gone now. Don't take yourself with her! Just breathe! Like she always told you to, just breathe!”
Silence from the other side for half a minute—then, Adelbrand heard the sound of Macrin's body falling against the other side of the door. When Macrin spoke next, he sounded exhausted. “There's no way back for any of us, Adelbrand. The lines have been drawn. But he tries to deny it, the coward, and he's gotten into your head too.” His voice entered a crescendo.
“Who?”
“The Doctor.” A hoof pounded the door's other side in rage. The Doctor's jaw opened in confusion. “You know, Doctor,” Macrin said, “when you stood up to me in the meeting room, I fancied you brave. You were unafraid to risk life and limb for your beliefs, however ugly they were. But that was farce, wasn't it? I watched you through the Warbots' eyes, and you've gotten your leg back—some Equestrian trickery, no doubt, but it proves one thing. You know nothing about standing for what you believe in—fighting, dying, and killing for what you know is right.”
“You're wrong,” the Doctor whispered. “I know everything, and sometimes it's worth it, yes, Lieutenant—sometimes it's worth it. But not this time. Not today. Just come out.”
“No, Doctor. You come in.”
“What?” the Doctor said.
“This is my bargain, all of you.” Adelbrand heard Macrin stand and step away from the door, as his voice returned to something resembling military discipline. “You will never know what I know, and I will never believe what you believe. There is only one valid judgment left for us—single combat.”
“What?” Bon Bon said.
“Doctor, you will enter this room alone, and you and I will fight one on one. If I kill you, then I was right all along. And if you kill me, then you were right all along. Because I will kill you, or you will kill me. And no one will interfere.”
“Macrin, no,” the Doctor said, his voice rising as well. “It doesn't have to be like this!”
“Wrong, Doctor! It could never have been any other way! So face me!” Adelbrand recoiled as he felt a bolt of light strike the opposite side of the door. “Or prove me right and vacillate outside, until this ship falls out of the sky! Choose, Doctor!”
Stay tuned for the conclusion to War of the Worlds.