~*Erin*~
“Sunflower!” Marigold cried as she launched herself forward.
Erin froze a moment before being hit in the knee by a cannonball of filly cuteness. Marigold clamped on like a limpet, all while a rapid-fire flow of words poured out of her mouth.
“You’re here?! Mommy said you were gone! And you were a hu-mam! And that you went back to Earth!” Wide, liquid eyes gazed up at her, and Erin’s heart started to melt a little. “Are you really a hu-mam? You can change shape? Can you teach me how? Is that why you have a horn? And wings! Why do you have wings? When are you coming back home?”
That last question hit Erin right in the heart, leaving her feeling shaken and vulnerable. She sat down heavily as the strength went out of her hind legs, with Marigold still clinging tenaciously to a foreleg.
A noise from the dining area caught her attention, and she glanced up to see Ditzy and Dinky both in the dining room and looking back at the pair of them. Dinky was staring with her mouth open, while Ditzy just had a small, confused smile on her face.
“I take it that you two have met before?” Ditzy asked, her face crinkling into a grin as she put a large salad bowl on the dining room table.
“Yeah,” Erin said faintly as her brain played catch-up. She noticed that she was absently ruffling Marigold’s mane and drew her hoof back sharply as if she’d touched something hot. “I stayed at the Ponyville Guest House for a few weeks when I first came here.” She smiled awkwardly down at the wide-eyed little filly who was still clamped on to her leg. “I used to babysit Marigold, here.”
The filly in question was frowning, though she didn’t let go of Erin’s leg. She poked Erin in the chest with her stubby horn. “You aren’t answering my questions,” she said with a pout.
In Erin’s heart, a near-frantic desperation was building. Marigold’s mother Meadowlark had said in no uncertain terms that Erin wasn’t to associate with her daughter without her around. As much as Erin wanted to hug the filly, she knew that any contact with Marigold without her mom’s approval could torpedo any chances she had of reconciliation with her first real friend in Ponyville.
Marigold tightened her grip a little, and Erin realized that she’d been unconsciously trying to pull away. Erin hid a grimace. For now, at least, she was stuck. Unless she wanted to forcibly remove the filly from her leg. No matter what Meadowlark might have wanted, that simply wasn’t something Erin was willing to do.
“Well, which one do you want me to answer first?” Erin asked with a weak grin.
The filly’s brow furrowed as she thought about it seriously, a tiny frown etching its way across her features. Finally, she decided on her first question. “Are you really a hu-mam?”
“It’s ‘human’, sweetie,” Erin said, glancing up to see that Ditzy had once again disappeared into the kitchen, though Dinky was still standing there and staring with wide eyes. “And, yes, I am.”
“You look like a pony, though,” Dinky said, earning her a very serious look from Marigold.
“You can talk to her after I’m done asking questions, Dinky,” Marigold said bluntly.
“No fair!” Dinky whined.
Marigold ignored her as she turned her head to look back up at Erin. “Are you coming back home?”
“Uh… Well, if you mean to Ponyville, then yes. If you mean to the Guest House, then no. I have another place in town.”
“Where?”
Erin stopped herself from answering right away. Marigold was just the type of filly to start dropping by without her mom’s approval. She gave it some thought before saying, “I’ll tell you what, maybe I can invite you and your mom over soon, and you can see. Okay?”
That got a rare smile out of the typically-serious filly, who finally let go of Erin’s leg. “Okay!”
“Momma said she lives next door,” Dinky supplied helpfully.
Marigold threw a questioning look her way. “Really?”
“Uhh…” Erin sighed and deflated a little. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
Ditzy’s call of “Dinner’s ready!” cut off any further questions for the moment. Marigold looked at the table, then back at Erin, obviously torn.
“Why don’t you go and have a seat with Dinky, Marigold.” Erin said. “I have to talk to Ditzy for a minute, okay?”
Ditzy raised an eyebrow at that, but allowed Erin to lead her back into the kitchen. In spite of the nauseating worry Erin was feeling, a small part of her couldn’t help but look around with interest and take some notes on how Ditzy’s kitchen was arranged.
The walls of Ditzy’s kitchen were painted a cheery dandelion yellow, with green vines painted along the trim. Pots and pans hung from a rack that was bolted onto the wall across from the oven, which was a more beat up version of the one Erin had in her own home. There was a large spice rack on the counter, a huge green mixer, and various other small appliances and utensils. On one wall was a framed piece of flower-patterned fabric that had the message “Mom’s special ingredient is love!” embroidered into it.
On the doorframe leading to the dining room were a series of marks, the highest of which had “Dinky, age 6” scrawled next to it. A refrigerator coated with Dinky’s school papers and drawings completed the look of a busy but well-tended kitchen.
“So, I take it something is wrong?” Ditzy asked quietly once they were out of range of the filly’s hearing. “And it has to do with Marigold, if I’m any judge.”
Erin grimaced and nodded. “You can say that.” She took a deep breath before just diving in. “Meadowlark was furious when she found out I was a human. Well, that and horrified.”
“Ah. I see.”
Ditzy’s voice was sympathetic enough, but Erin still flinched.
“I talked to her a while back, and she still hadn’t forgiven me for lying.” Erin pawed a hoof at the well-scrubbed tiles of Ditzy’s kitchen floor. “She kind of… well, forbade me from seeing her daughter without her around.”
Ditzy blinked, and her right eye went askew for a couple of seconds before snapping back into alignment. “Why? I mean, we all know humans aren’t really dangerous. Right?”
Erin cleared her throat awkwardly. “Well… there’s good and bad humans, but yeah. We’re kind of like ponies that way. But, for all she knew at the time, I could have been some horrifying brain-eating alien predator.”
Ditzy snorted and covered her muzzle with a hoof, though her shaking wings gave away the chuckles she was trying to smother. She cleared her throat and actually managed to look serious.
“So, Meadowlark doesn’t want you around her daughter because you’re an alien and she doesn’t trust you now?”
“Something like that.” Erin shrugged. “It’s complicated.” She sighed and added, “I really shouldn’t be here. I hate to do this, but I probably need to take a raincheck on dinner.”
Ditzy tilted her head quizzically. “Why? I mean, I’m here. I’ll make sure you don’t go slurping up any filly brains for dessert.”
Erin snickered in spite of herself. “Well, that’s what I brought those pastries over for. To curb any brain-slurping impulses I might have had.”
Ditzy laughed at that, and Erin couldn’t help but join in. They were interrupted by a small, almost scared voice coming from the doorway to the dining room.
“Is everything okay?” Marigold asked as she peeked around the doorframe. “You aren’t leaving, are you?”
Erin felt her heart melting once again and opened her mouth to say the hardest thing she could imagine at that moment before Ditzy cut her off.
“Of course she’s staying,” the pegasus said. “We just had to have a little talk before dinner, that’s all.”
Erin looked over at Ditzy with a mix of trepidation and hope. “I don’t know—”
“It’s going to be okay,” Ditzy said quietly in her ear. “I’m pretty sure I can talk some sense into Meadowlark.”
Between Ditzy’s assurances and Marigold’s soulful stare, it was simply too much. Erin sighed and nodded. “I’m staying.”
Marigold offered up another of her rare smiles and did a little shuffling dance with her forehooves. “Yes!”
~*Twilight*~
In spite of Spike’s best efforts to stay awake once the train had started moving, the rhythmic click-clack of the rails had gotten him drowsing less than five minutes out of Ponyville. Soon, he was curled up and fast asleep, snoring away in his typically adorable way, with his right thumb in his mouth and his left hand grabbing ahold of his tail. This left Rarity and Twilight to talk, which was a minor tragedy for the dragon but just fine with Twilight. Rarity had been extremely busy recently, and Twilight had missed having one-on-one time with her fashionable friend.
“So, Twilight, I have something to show you!” Rarity said. Her horn glowed, opening her saddlebags and removing a rectangular pouch of purple velvet that matched her mane and tail. After a quick tug on the drawstrings at the top, the velvet fell away, revealing Rarity’s tablet.
They really were a wonderful looking design, Twilight reflected as she admired the glossy white of Rarity’s tablet, along with the stunning blue diamonds painted on the back. Though, looking at her friend’s tablet reminded Twilight of something she’d forgotten.
“Oh, drat. I forgot my own tablet at the library!”
Rarity made a comforting noise and patted her on the leg. “I’m so sorry to hear that, dear. I’m surprised, though. Usually, you triple-check your bags before leaving on a trip.”
“I re-used an old packing checklist for efficiency's sake,” Twilight groused. “I forgot to put the tablet on it.” Her horn lit up and pulled a small notebook out of her own saddlebag, along with a quill and ink.
“What are you doing?” Rarity asked.
“Writing a note on my to-do list to update all of my old checklists,” Twilight said, a scowl of concentration on her features as she wrote. “There, all done. Hmm….” She tapped the feather of her quill against her chin. “I should probably make that a weekly task.” Another note was scribbled into the notebook, which was left open on the seat for the ink to dry while the quill and inkwell were tucked back into Twilight’s saddlebags.
“Well, I’m glad we’ve gotten that out of the way,” Rarity said with a wry smile. “I am a little disappointed, though.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, well… I was thinking that we could show each other what we’ve discovered with regards to our tablets. Erin can only stretch so far, after all.” Rarity offered a broad smile. “We’ll all need to compare notes in order to truly learn how to use these.”
Twilight nodded with an irritated grunt. “It’s a useful tool, that’s for sure. Who knows how we’ll end up using it?”
“Well…” Rarity cleared her throat and leaned forward with her eyes gleaming. “Would you like to see what I’ve discovered so far?”
“Sure!”
Twilight watched with interest as Rarity first pressed a hoof on the power button in the corner, causing the screen to glow. Then she cleared her throat delicately.
“Oh, François, darling, could you wake up, please?”
Twilight’s momentary confusion was washed away when the tablet answered in a heavily-accented voice that was both husky and smooth at the same time, while also being extremely masculine.
“Oui, Mademoiselle Rarity,” the tablet crooned. “How may I assist you?”
Rarity giggled delightedly. “Oh, isn’t he lovely?”
Twilight cleared her throat awkwardly, hoping that the electric tingle that had raced down her spine at the sound of the tablet’s voice hadn’t been too obvious. “I, uh… I don’t recall hearing that voice in the selection.”
“Hmm…” Rarity pressed a hoof under her chin while she considered. “I believe it was ‘Romantic French Accent, male’.”
“Oh. I avoided that one because I thought it would be in French, which is the human version of Prench, neither of which I speak.” Twilight muttered.
She didn’t mention that the thought of reviewing a voice with a description of “Romantic” had sounded far far too silly the previous day. Then again, Erin did say that she could change the voices, if she wanted. Though, it would probably be pretty awkward if she used the same voice on her own tablet. “So, what did you find out? I spent all of my time looking at the books that Erin had put on mine.”
That caused another pang of regret at leaving her tablet behind. The books it contained had all been fascinating, and she’d planned on reading one or two of them on the train ride both to and from Canterlot.
Rarity’s laugh was like the tinkling of bells. “Of course you did, Twilight. However, I found something that I believe may be quite useful in my line of work. François, dear, could you open the drawing application?”
“Oui, mademoiselle,” came the deep, silky voice. “I would be most pleased to do so.”
Rarity tapped on the screen a few times with the stylus that she had suspended in her magic. “As it turns out, this lovely application allows me to sketch quite freely. Ah, here we are!”
Rarity turned the tablet, and Twilight saw an absolutely gorgeous dress sketched out and colored in, though the colors looked flat and artificial.
“Ooh, that’s amazing!” Twilight said as she leaned forward to get a better look.
“And, apparently, I can ‘save’ each drawing before moving on to the next. Why, I could carry all of my designs with me all the time!”
Twilight smiled at Rarity, who seemed positively giddy at the thought. “That’s wonderful! Though, you may want to be careful. If you had all of your designs on there and then lost or damaged… er… François, then you could lose it all at once.”
Rarity’s head drew back and her ears flattened. “Oh, my goodness! Perish the thought. That would be dreadful!”
“Maybe Erin can help with that?” Twilight suggested. “I remember her saying something about being able to print things out from the tablets. I bet she could make you paper copies of anything you draw on there!”
“Do you really think so?” Rarity’s ears lifted and she smiled. “Oh, I’ll have to be sure to ask her as soon as I return to Ponyville.”
Rarity happily showed Twilight a few more designs she’d come up with, as well as how she applied color to the drawing itself. There were many options with the application that Rarity either hadn’t noticed or simply chose not to experiment with yet, Twilight noted. It made sense, though. Nopony would just pick up something so complex and be able to do everything they wanted on it all at once. It would take time to get familiar with it.
After that, the tablet went back into its pouch and into Rarity’s saddlebag. The two friends passed the time in idle chit-chat until the train pulled into Canterlot. Twilight put her saddlebags back on, levitated the still-sleeping Spike onto her back, and exited the train with Rarity at her side.
“Poor Spike,” Rarity said as the stood on the platform. “He must be all worn out.”
“That’s what he gets for trying to stay up all night watching movies.” Twilight nudged him in the shoulder with her nose. “Wake up, sleepy-head. We’re here.”
Spike came awake slowly and looked around with bleary confusion before a shock of understanding washed over his face. “Oh, no! I slept through the whole train ride?”
“That you did, Spike.” Rarity reached out a hoof and ruffled his spines. “You were adorable!”
Spike blushed crimson and looked away, muttering something that Twilight couldn’t quite understand.
“Are you going to be all right here on your own, Rarity?” Twilight glanced at a nearby clock. “I’d offer to stay, but—”
“But the Princess awaits.” Rarity flashed a brilliant smile. “I know, darling. You look like you’re about to fly apart at the seams.” She waved a hoof in a shooing motion, though her smile never wavered. “Go on, I’ll be fine. I’ll hire a porter and a cab and be in my hotel within an hour, at most.”
Twilight sagged slightly with relief. “Thanks, Rarity. I really do have to get going.”
“I won’t keep you, then,” Rarity said as she drew Twilight into a hug. “Please give the Princesses my regards, would you?”
“Of course! I’ll stop by your hotel after I find out what the Princess wants, alright?”
Rarity broke the hug and smiled once again. “I look forward to it, dear. Farewell!”
“Later, Rarity!”
Twilight waved, and Spike mumbled a farewell of his own while waving from her back. They hadn’t even reached the gateway that led out to the street before Spike spoke up.
“Maybe I could stay with Rarity and give her a hand?” Spike ventured. “I mean, I doubt you’ll need me with Princess Celestia, and Rarity has all that luggage…”
“Twenty seconds,” Twilight said. It was a new record for him. Usually, he tried to come up with an excuse to stick with Rarity much sooner. Either he was learning restraint, or he was still a little groggy from his nap. Twilight was betting on the latter.
“What?”
“Never mind. Anyway, if you help out Rarity, then you won’t be able to go to Donut Joe’s with me.”
That got the little guy’s attention. Spike sat up straight on her back with a gasp. “We’re going to Donut Joe? Really?”
“Yup!”
“Why?”
Twilight looked back at him with a single raised eyebrow, and he held up his hands defensively.
“Not that I’m saying we shouldn’t!” he said frantically. “It’s just… a little out of the blue, you know?”
“It’s a reward for all your hard work,” Twilight said. “I know I don’t say it enough, but I am really proud of you, Spike.”
Spikes face lit up like a beacon. “Gosh... Thanks, Twilight!”
“You bet, Spike.”
They trotted along for a few seconds before a cautious voice drifted from Spike’s general direction.
“So… does this mean that I get my tablet back, now?”
Twilight laughed. “Don’t push it, buddy.”
“Aww…”
~*Mikel Rost*~
The meeting with Dr. Maggie Henson hadn’t been as comfortable as Mikel had hoped it would be. The stout older scientist had welcomed him with aloof politeness and then almost immediately offered to take him to his lab. In spite of his longer stride, he had to step quickly to keep up with Dr. Henson as she led him through the seemingly endless maze of the Harmonics compound. He pulled the sample of Black Tide along behind him in its trunk, which, he decided, was a large factor as to why it was hard for him to keep up.
“So, why here, Doctor Rost?” Dr. Maggie Henson asked after a minute or two of walking. She slowed down slightly, allowing him to catch up and speak more easily.
“Well, mostly for the view and the lovely mountain air.”
Dr. Henson favored him with a frosty scowl which indicated that, just perhaps, flippancy wasn’t the best course of action. He cleared his throat and attempted to inject some humility into his voice. “Coming here wasn’t my first choice. But I need Doctor Edwards. His work with cybernetics is leagues ahead of anyone else’s.”
Dr. Henson’s scowl twisted sourly as she nodded. “And Tom isn’t the type to want to leave the lab he’s spent the last year building from scratch.” An obvious effort of will on Maggie’s part smoothed her features over. “I’m just a little worried, is all.”
Mikel held a hand before him in a placating gesture. “Look, I understand the squeamishness when it comes to studying it, but you have to understand. There’s literally tons of Tide material left in the Scar, and we still know so little about it. Heck, they just uncovered an intact chunk of it the size of two Olympic-sized swimming pools!”
Maggie snorted at that. “I wasn’t aware that we’d adopted ‘Olympic swimming pool’ as a standard unit of measurement.”
Now it was Mikel who had a frown on his face. “You know what I mean, Dr. Henson.”
“I do. And, for what it’s worth, I agree.” Maggie sighed and ran a hand through her greying hair. “Though, most of those studying it are content to remain near the Scar itself. That’s not why I’m worried. I’m just worried that you’re doing it here, of all places.”
“What’s wrong with here?” Mikel asked. “State of the art facilities, a good distance away from populated areas, independent power sources… Top minds in genetics, engineering, cybernetics and nanotechnology call this facility home.”
“Not to mention Harmonics, Ascent, and the Cybernetics unit. You know what those are, Doctor? Eggs in a basket.” Maggie sighed again. “We’ve got too many of them here. And now we have your little project in the mix, as well. We’re a single good disaster from losing years of scientific advancement, not to mention our contact with the Equestrians.”
“I thought the backup site in Scotland was ready? We shouldn’t have to worry about losing contact with Equestria any time soon.”
“The Kinnoull Hill site is still a few weeks away from completion,” Maggie replied shortly. “So, what is it that you’re doing differently?”
“Everyone else is studying the chemical or structural makeup of the thing, but I have a different direction I want to go,” Mikel said as he unconsciously leaned towards her enthusiastically. “The Tide looks a little bit like brain tissue. The most common hypothesis as to why is that it was a gigantic semi-organic computer. Computers hold data. If I can interface with it somehow, I might be able to read that data.” His eyes gleamed as he smiled. “Imagine what we could learn! Not in the least where the damned thing came from.”
Dr. Henson shook her head. “This seems incredibly unwise, but Bob is the boss, and he said to give you what you need. Just consider yourself lucky that he was able to scavenge some Tide-specific lab equipment from another site, or there’s no way we would have gotten your lab set up by now.”
The corridor ended abruptly in a secured door. Maggie waved her badge over the card-reader and pushed it open, revealing daylight and fresh air. Mikel followed uncertainly, dragging the trunk over the short, patchy grass.
“Uh, where are we going?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“There,” Maggie said, pointing.
The windowless building looked to be about forty feet long on each side and was made of heavy grey cinder block. The low, flat roof and plain design made the whole thing look squat and ugly. To top it all off, it was only about twenty feet away from the huge concrete wall that surrounded the entire Harmonics compound.
“That’s going to be my lab?” Mikel asked flatly, unable to keep the disdain out of his voice at the sight of it.
“You got it. We were originally building it as a storage area. Just got done with the exterior about three weeks ago, actually.” Maggie jerked a thumb over to the left of the building, indicating a bulldozer, a backhoe, a front-loader and several Bobcat tractors scattered about in the large open area between the building and the perimeter wall that surrounded the whole compound. “Even with most of the lab equipment pre-built off-site, we barely got this done in time.”
Dr. Henson took out a key and unlocked the steel door. She then held out the key to Mikel, who took it with the same enthusiasm he would have had if it had been a dead fish.
“I’ve got to say, I was expecting better than this, Doctor Henson,” Mikel said as he pocketed the key. “I was expecting to be in a lab that was at least connected to the rest of the compound!”
“Too dangerous,” Maggie said dismissively as she ran her hand along the wall. “Besides, I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised. Ah, there we go.”
She flicked the lights on, flooding the interior of the building with a bright light. The interior was covered with soft white wall panels, similar to the beige panels of the main Harmonics compound. If the lab followed the same standards as the rest of the facility, then the panels were removable, to allow easy access to wiring, plumbing and ventilation.
Immediately after the doorway was a small ramp that led up to a raised floor of pristine white panels. The drop ceiling above had still more panels, which seemed to almost glow softly in the fluorescent lights.
“I feel like I just walked into Aperture Labs,” Mikel said wryly. When Dr. Henson treated him to a blank look, he added, “The Portal games? Uh… they had a lot of panels,” he finished lamely.
Maggie grunted and walked forward up the short ramp. Mikel followed, dragging his trunk behind him.
“That’s where you’ll be storing your sample at all times,” Maggie said, pointing.
Mikel looked, letting out an involuntary whistle. A cube, about eight feet on each side and made primarily of what looked like thick glass, dominated the center of the room. The top of it was sided in steel that extended up into the drop ceiling. The glass bottom of the cage rested not on a raised floor, but on still more steel.
On each wall of the cube there were controls that linked up to robotic arms that were retracted up against the roof. A pedestal holding a large plexiglass bowl stood in the center of the cube, looking just about the right size to hold his sample of the Tide. The pedestal was surrounded by a larger, barrel-looking device.
After he’d gotten his fill of looking at the cube, he glanced around the rest of the lab with quiet satisfaction. Along the wall to his left were large lockers, and desks with glowing computer screens already fired up. To his right was a utility sink, two emergency safety showers, and other equipment that Mikel couldn’t be bothered to take in right away.
“We had to hurry to build this, and containment was our top priority. So, if you need any further equipment, let us know,” Dr. Henson said. “The lab is yours to do with as you please, with the exception of the safety protocols. You will not violate these protocols, do you understand?” Dr. Henson fixed him with a glare that immediately put Mikel’s back up.
He swallowed back his initial reply. Instead, he nodded. “I got it.”
“Here’s a quick rundown of the most important points: One, the Tide sample will stay on the pedestal,” Maggie said, confirming his suspicions. “You can use the control panels to lower it into the containment system at any time. That barrel contains liquid nitrogen. Whenever you’re not actively working on the Tide, you’re required to keep it frozen.”
That rankled a bit, but it wasn’t anything Mikel hadn’t expected. “Understood.”
“You see those cameras in the corners of the lab?”
He hadn’t. He’d been too focused on the containment cage. “I do now,” he said.
“There will be a security guard monitoring the lab at all times,” Maggie said. His outrage must have shown, because she held up a hand to forestall whatever it was he was going to say. “Non-negotiable, Doctor. If you somehow manage to reactivate this sample, you may be compromised too quickly to hit the alarms.”
Mikel’s voice was tight and angry. “This sample doesn’t have any nanomachines on it. It’s been checked.”
“Really,” she said flatly. “You’ve checked the entire twenty pounds of it for microscopic machines, and you’re one-hundred percent sure you didn’t miss a single one?”
The sardonic tone of voice didn’t do anything to calm him down. “The Tide’s nanomachines relied on a signal to activate them,” he said. “The damned Equestrian princesses themselves even said so. That signal has stopped.”
Maggie crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “And if it starts again?”
“Unlikely. But we’d have plenty of time to get it back into the nitrogen, I’m sure,” Mikel said stiffly.
“I’m glad you’re confident. But I’m more concerned with the sample attacking you directly.”
“What do you mean? It’s a blob of semi-organic brain-like tissue. No musculature.”
Dr. Henson’s eyes narrowed and her mouth set into a firm line. “First of all, I don’t usually explain myself like this. Consider it a gift to the newbie. Second, you didn’t see what it did to Princess Celestia.” Dr. Henson shuddered. “I did. The Tide has been shown to have some sort of abilities that some might call ‘psychic’. If you somehow manage to activate this thing and it does something to affect your mind, it could render you helpless before you can do anything to stop it.”
“I think you’re greatly overestimating its abilities,” he said.
Maggie stared at him for a long moment. “Are we going to have a disagreement here, Doctor Rost? Because I’m more than happy to shut all this down and send you packing.”
Mikel knew he only had one trump card, but at least it was a doozie. “Robert Thomson—”
“He’s the one who told me to set up the security as I see fit,” Maggie interrupted. “If I tell him you’re not playing ball and had to shut you down, he’ll back me.”
Apparently, his trump card wasn’t quite the doozie he’d thought it was. He stared at Dr. Henson for a few moments. If she was bluffing, she had the best poker face he’d ever seen. He held up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I understand.” He offered what he hoped was a sincere smile and added, “I’m not used to working in situations like this, is all.”
Dr. Henson grunted. “If you hated that, you’re really going to hate this next bit.”
Mikel braced himself, struggling with his temper. Making peace was important, he reminded himself. Once he was established, he could push at the boundaries. For now, he needed to at least have Dr. Henson’s tolerance, if he couldn’t manage her outright approval. “And what’s that?”
“Every person who goes into or out of this lab is going to be subject to a mandatory weekly CAT scan and check-up. To discount any chance of mental manipulation from the Tide.”
“Are you serious?”
“Again, not negotiable. I’m taking no chances, Doctor, remember?”
He exchanged a somewhat heated glare with her for a few seconds before dropping his gaze. “Anything else?” he asked, hating the sullen tone to his voice.
“A couple of things. One, see those nozzles in the ceiling of the cage?”
Mikel looked, spotting several devices that looked like larger-than-average fire suppression sprinklers, though they were made of acrylic rather than metal.
“Yes?”
“In the event of any kind of containment breach, enough hydrochloric acid to fill the cage is going to be dumped down from the ceiling in a matter of seconds. That can be triggered here in the lab, or remotely from the security office.”
“So, what you’re saying is that my work is going to be at the mercy of a security guard, who may or may not have an itchy trigger finger?”
If Mikel’s outraged sarcasm had any impact, Dr. Henson’s face didn’t show it. Instead, she nodded.
“That’s not all. Check the corners.”
Mikel did so, noting for the first time that large metal and plastic pylons were attached at each corner of the lab. “What are those?”
Dr. Henson’s face didn’t have any trace of humor as she locked her eyes on his. “Harmonics emitters,” she said, her tone deadly serious. “In the event of a full breach, if the acid doesn’t do its work, they will be triggered before the Tide can compromise the entire facility.”
“Harmonics…” Mikel felt a little weak in the legs as the realization hit him. “Where do they go? Not Equestria, I’m assuming.”
Doctor Henson shook her head. “In the case of a full breach, security will trigger the emitters, which are hardwired to rip open a gateway to the world we call ‘Hades’. This entire lab will be dumped there, and then the gateway closed. You’ll want to be out of the lab before that happens. That world is extremely active, volcanically. The atmosphere is incredibly toxic, with heavy concentrations of sulfuric acid. If the Tide doesn’t kill you, then Hades will, and it won’t be pleasant.”
Mikel took in Dr. Henson’s expression. She was somber but determined, resolve etched in every line of her face. In a flash of insight, Mikel realized that she would hate herself for the rest of her life if anyone were still in the lab when she ordered the emitters to be triggered, and that still wouldn’t make her hesitate for even a second.
A cold fear froze his chest. This entire lab was a deathtrap. It was also his best chance to tap whatever information was held in the Tide. A fierce battle between ambition and fear warred within him for a few seconds before he smiled cheerfully.
“Well, then. I’d better hope I’m right, and that this sample is as harmless as I think it is.”
He doubted that the falsely chipper tone in his voice fooled Maggie for one second. Still, she smiled back.
“I certainly hope so too,” she said, holding out a hand. “Welcome aboard, Doctor Rost.”
He only hesitated a moment before reaching out and taking her hand. She would kill him in an instant, if the situation demanded it. It was absurd enough for him to laugh.
“Glad to be here, Doctor Henson.”
~*Twilight*~
“Thank you,” Twilight Sparkle said to the guard as they let her and Spike into Celestia’s private study.
The guard nodded, keeping a stoic expression on his face that remained until Spike passed a donut over to him. He blinked and took it in his magic out of reflex.
“Enjoy, dude,” Spike said before taking another donut out of the box for himself.
The doors closed behind them as the baffled guard considered his chocolate donut. Twilight smiled and rolled her eyes at Spike’s antics. He’d been pretty happy the whole way to the palace, though he’d likely ruined his appetite by now.
Princess Celestia was seated on several dark red cushions piled up on the floor. She
glanced up from her desk as they came in and broke into a warm smile as soon as she saw them.
“Twilight, Spike! So good of you to come.” Princess Celestia stood and embraced Twilight with a wing.
“Of course, Princess,” Twilight said as she leaned into Celestia’s coat. Twilight was never sure if Celestia wore perfume, but the scent of her was familiar and comforting, like sun-warmed grass and wildflowers on a summer’s day.
Celestia broke the embrace and indicated a low table in the center of her study, which already contained a teapot and several glasses, as well as a plate of scones and cookies. “Please, relax and help yourselves.”
“Oooh,” Spike said as he hopped off of her back. Twilight’s magic snagged him just before he grabbed a cookie. “Aww…”
“Hold on, there, greedy guts,” Twilight said. “You had a bunch of donuts on the way over, remember?”
“Only four, Twilight!”
“That’s still enough sweets!” Twilight scolded. “You’re going to be sick!”
Celestia chuckled, reminding Twilight that she was supposed to be here talking to the Princess. Blushing, she removed her saddlebags and put them down near the table, in order to have easy access to them if needed. The box of donuts went next to them. She sat, and Spike sat next to her, grumbling.
“How was the trip out?” Princess Celestia asked as she sat down.
“It was nice. I forgot to bring my tablet, though.”
Celestia raised an eyebrow as she poured some tea into her cup. “Tablet?”
“Oh! Yes! Erin bought a tablet for me,” Twilight said. “For our other friends, too.”
“Including me!” Spike added with a big grin.
Celestia chuckled softly. “Human technology is spreading, I see. I’m afraid I haven’t used mine very much.”
“But you can do so many things with it!” Twilight said eagerly. “Like, read books! And there’s a calculator, and you can draw with it.”
“And movies!” Spike added.
“Movies, too,” Twilight acknowledged. “And you can keep books on it!”
“You said that already,” Spike noted.
Twilight blushed. “Well, it’s important.”
Celestia smiled. “Hmm. Perhaps I should take another look at mine. Still, that’s not why I’ve asked you here, Twilight.”
This was it. Twilight put her teacup down on the table and braced herself, making herself ready for whatever it was the Princess needed. “Why did you ask me here, Princess?”
Celestia looked away, a tiny smile curling the corners of her mouth. Twilight followed her gaze and saw that she was looking in the direction of her private apartments, which were attached to this study by large oak doors.
“I’ve been ruling over Equestria for well over a thousand years. I know that most ponies believe that I can do practically anything.” Celestia turned her head and met Twilight’s eyes, still smiling that gentle smile. “The truth is, though, that I’m still only one mare. I have a limited amount of time, and no amount of experience or magical power can change that. If I am to spend the proper amount of time caring for Prince Verdant, I’ve got to make some difficult choices. And, after careful consideration, what I’ve decided is that I should turn over the majority of my duties to Princess Luna.”
The last statement seemed to stop time itself. Spike was frozen in the act of stealing a cookie off of the tray. Twilight, herself, was stuck in place like a fly in amber. She began to feel light-headed, which confused her until she realized that she was holding her breath.
“You… You’re retiring?” Twilight asked. The room seemed to vibrate around her as one of the very pillars of Equestria shook. “That can’t be right.” She let out a high-pitched laugh. “I must have heard you wrong!” Celestia just looked at her with kindness etched on every feature. “Or, it’s a joke. It’s a joke, right? I mean, I can’t remember you ever playing a joke on me before, but it’s possible. So, you’re playing a joke on me, because you wouldn’t ever step down and stop being a princess, because you’re Princess Celestia, and you can’t just stop being that. It’s absurd. So, it must be a joke. Right?” Twilight’s desperate grin melted in the face of Celestia’s compassionate expression. The world around her shook again. “It’s not a joke…”
“Breathe, Twilight,” Spike said urgently next to her. “You’ve got to breathe.”
Twilight looked down and saw his concerned face staring up at her. She also noticed that she was holding her tail in her lap and was petting it anxiously, which she forced herself to stop doing.
“I’m not retiring, Twilight,” Celestia said softly. “Yes, I’m turning over most of my responsibilities to Luna, but only for a few years. The time will fly by, I’m certain.”
Twilight latched onto the statement of “only a few years” like a drowning mare with a life preserver. “How many years?”
“I think five will do, though that may change if circumstances do.” Celestia leaned forward, looking at her intently. “So, Twilight, I now come to the favor I must ask you.”
“Anything, Princess,” Twilight blurted instantly. Though, she knew that was a conditioned response. Pure reflex, without engaging her higher functions, necessitated by the fact that those higher functions were currently engaged with whirling and reeling like a ship in a storm. She felt like somepony had disabled gravity, and she wasn’t able to find purchase.
She looked into Celestia’s eyes and immediately started feeling calmer. Whatever else changed, Celestia was there. Celestia was an anchor. No matter what changed in the world, she could always count on the Princess. Twilight cleared her throat and stated with certainty, “Whatever you need from me, Princess Celestia, I’ll do it.” Her mind raced ahead, making a list of the things that the Princess might need of her. “Do you need administrative help? Organizational skills? Perhaps you’ll need somepony to look up relevant laws or help draft new ones?”
Celestia chuckled and shook her head, sending waves cascading down her flowing mane. “None of those things, Twilight. We have a considerable number of highly competent staff in place already. In fact, Luna will be getting several of my own staff, including two of my personal secretaries, to help her. No, I have have something much more important for you to do.”
Twilight nodded and managed to sit up even straighter, somehow. “What is it?”
“Luna will have all the advisors she needs. All the clerks, guards, servants, everything required to help her run the country. She’ll even have me as her primary advisor. However, there’s one thing that she’ll need that not even I can give her.” Celestia reached across the table and placed her hoof on Twilight’s. “She needs a friend.”
“A friend?” Twilight asked, blinking.
Celestia nodded. “You got to know Luna last Nightmare Night, didn’t you?” When Twilight nodded hurriedly, Celestia continued. “I can’t tell you how happy I was to hear that! Luna has never been good at meeting new ponies, and returning after a thousand-year absence hasn’t made it any easier for her.”
The Princess gave her an earnest look. “She needs somepony who will give her a sympathetic ear whenever she needs it, who will give advice and listen to her problems. I can do that to a degree, but I’m still her big sister. Some of the problems she faces may very well come from me. Can I ask you to be her friend?”
Twilight stared, confused, at Celestia’s heartfelt expression. “No,” she said. Spike gasped next to her, and she hurried to add, “Because friendship doesn’t work that way, I mean. I’ll be her friend because I already am, not because you ask me to.”
Celestia blinked, and Twilight felt the world wobble once again when she realized that she’d somehow managed to surprise the Princess. A smile rose like a sunrise across Celestia’s features.
“Thank you, Twilight,” she said, bowing her head slightly.
The bow had been too much. Twilight blushed and looked away, mumbling, “Don’t mention it.” She drew a circle on the table with her hoof and stared blankly at her tea for a few seconds. A question rose, and she asked it as soon as she thought it. “What brought this on, anyway? It seems sudden. Is it really just Prince Verdant?”
When Celestia didn’t answer right away, Twilight looked back up to see her mentor staring at the ceiling, her teacup still suspended by her side in a golden aura.
“Not just Verdant, no,” the Princess replied eventually. “This will be good for Luna, as well. She needs some time in the spotlight in order to shine. And… Well, this feels a little silly to admit, but I’ve been thinking about my legacy, recently.”
Twilight tilted her head, confused. “Legacy? I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“Perhaps I’m getting old,” Celestia said softly. “Or, perhaps it’s just because I’ve made myself responsible for the raising of a colt. I’ve started thinking about the things I may leave behind.”
The fear and confusion from earlier raised its head. Twilight shivered and asked, “Leave behind? I thought it was only for five years. Give or take.”
Celestia didn’t answer her right away, instead gazing down towards the table. A few seconds passed, enough for Twilight to start feeling fidgety. Right before she broke the silence to repeat her question, Celestia spoke again.
“Have you ever heard of Queen Sapphire the Vile?”
Twilight blinked, her thoughts completely derailed by the question. She wracked her memory, trying to come up with a match for the name. After some deep thought, she shook her head. “No, Princess. I can’t say I have.”
“Not surprising,” Celestia said with a short laugh. “A thoroughly unpleasant pony, as you can likely gather from the epithet.”
“Why would she pick that?” Spike asked. “Seems like a good way to give a pony a bad opinion of her.”
“She didn’t pick it, Spike,” Celestia replied. “Her subjects did, not long after her death. It’s those that survive you who will decide how you’re remembered.” Celestia shook her head gently. “No, during her reign she was called ‘Queen Sapphire the Magnificent’, or ‘the Righteous’, or even ‘the Beautiful’.” Celestia frowned and added, “And probably a few others I’m forgetting. But after she died, it was ‘the Vile’ that was remembered until history apparently forgot her name entirely.”
“Why was she called that?” Twilight asked as her horn glowed. A scroll floated out, along with her inkwell and quill. Celestia nodded approvingly as Twilight prepared to write down the story as accurately as she could manage.
“Long ago,” the Princess began, “the three pony races joined themselves into one Equestria. This… was not universally popular. Queen Sapphire was a descendant of the old unicorn kings and queens, a great-granddaughter to King Diamond. Her grandmother, Princess Platinum, had betrayed her lineage, or at least that’s what young Sapphire and her supporters believed. She left the newly-born Equestria with a number of unicorns who felt the same way. They gathered up as many pegasus and earth pony loyalists as they could. Though, there were some rumors that not all of those pegasi and earth ponies went willingly.”
“That’s horrible!”
Celestia nodded. “Yes, Twilight. But I’m afraid the young Queen was just getting started. She and her followers founded a kingdom of their own and named it Corinica. Unicorns ruled absolutely, as they believed they should. Pegasi and earth ponies were treated harshly. At best, as servants. At worst… Well, the rumors were bad.
“She developed a technique, you see. A way to punish those who were disloyal or disobedient, which the Queen considered the most heinous of crimes. It was a process that they called the Separation. They would take the offending pony, and they would forcefully remove them from the magical field.”
Twilight gasped. Celestia nodded, her expression somber.
“Indeed. She stripped those poor ponies of their magic. Their cutie marks would fade, and they would become dull and listless. Many didn’t survive their first month. Those that did were treated little better than animals, used for hard labor. They called these poor ponies ‘the Fateless’.
“The unicorn elites weren’t spared, for all their power and position. The Queen grew increasingly paranoid as she grew older, and began to see plots and conspiracies everywhere. Due to her harsh methods, those conspiracies soon became a reality. She was assassinated in her own bedchamber by a coalition of unicorn nobles, each of whom had lost someone dear to them to the Separation. They’d been pushed too far, you see.
“And that is how Queen Sapphire the Magnificent became known as Queen Sapphire the Vile. A name well-earned, perhaps.” Celestia smiled, and the room seemed to brighten as the shadows cast by her story fled. “When your friend Erin stopped by a few days ago, she reminded me of the story once again.”
“She did?” Twilight asked, feeling a little stunned by the statement.
“The first hint I had of Erin’s existence was when Professor Glimmer came to me a while ago and mentioned that you were writing a story about a mare who wasn’t part of the magical field.” Celestia said, either not noticing or ignoring Twilight’s flinch when reminded of the lie she’d told. “I was afraid that somepony had somehow discovered the means to create more Fateless. Imagine my relief when I discovered that it was only a disguised pony from another world looking for a new home for several billion people!”
Celestia laughed, and Twilight joined in weakly.
“Perhaps that’s why I’ve been thinking about it,” Celestia said before taking another sip of her tea. “I’ve been thinking about what I’ll leave behind, should I ever stop being ‘Princess’ Celestia. Verdant will be a part of that, I think. As will a stable, thriving nation, I hope. But still, I wonder… what will the ponies think of me, should I ever step down? What byname will they attach to me?”
“‘The Radiant’,” Twilight said instantly, blushing when she realized she’d said it out loud.
Celestia stared at her for a moment before breaking into soft laughter. “Thank you, Twilight, but I wasn’t fishing for compliments.” She sighed and set her cup down on the table. “Just the musings of an old mare, perhaps. In any case… enough of old, dead queens and such unpleasantness. Tell me, Twilight, how has life been in Ponyville recently?”
Twilight smiled, feeling some tension ebb. She’d discovered what Princess Celestia’s big secret project was, and it was something she was planning to do anyway. And all the talk of her stepping back from the throne… well, that would take some getting used to, but it wasn’t the end of the world. She put her scroll aside, though after she made a note to ask about whatever happened to the Kingdom of Corinica.
“Well, first,” she said, “let me tell you about the name Pinkie Pie came up with for her tablet…”
~*Erin*~
“So, what do you think?”
Erin didn’t answer right away, concentrating on chewing and swallowing first. The casserole was sweet and tangy and savory all at once, with a mix of crunchy and smooth textures. It wasn’t something you’d find in a fancy restaurant or anything. It had that undefinable something that identified it as something a Mom cooked. She looked up to see Ditzy’s smile, though the pegasus had an undercurrent of worry around the eyes. Erin smiled back.
“It’s delicious,” she said, and Ditzy relaxed visibly.
“‘Course it is,” Dinky piped up. “Momma’s the best cook in Ponyville.”
“No, my mom is,” Marigold replied in her matter-of-fact voice.
“Nuh-uh!”
“She is, though. Tell her, Sunflower.”
Erin froze in a panic as two sets of intense filly eyes locked onto her. Fortunately, her mouth was full of more casserole, so she didn’t have to answer right away. Ditzy laughed and came to her rescue.
“Now, now, it’s not fair to put her on the spot like that.” She reached over and ruffled Marigold’s mane. “Dinky thinks my cooking is the best because she grew up with it, just like you grew up with your mom’s, right?”
Marigold’s eyes narrowed. “My mom is the best cook, though.”
“Opinions can’t be right or wrong, Marigold,” Erin said. “You think your mom’s cooking is the best, Dinky thinks her mom’s is the best, and you’re both right.”
“Well, whose do you think is the best?” Marigold asked, her eyes a little heated.
“The best cook ever?” Erin asked. Marigold nodded. “Hmm… That’s easy: My mom.”
The answer didn’t seem to please Marigold, but both Dinky and Ditzy started laughing. Marigold looked a little put off for a while before the corner of her mouth tilted up slightly. She shoveled more carrot casserole into her mouth to hide the smile.
The dinner carried on without much conflict after that. The two fillies dominated the conversation, mostly by asking Erin question after question about what it was like to be a human. When she told them about skyscrapers and jet airplanes, their faces went from intrigued to skeptical.
“Are you just messin’ with us?” Dinky asked.
“Nope!” Erin grinned and speared a cherry tomato out of her salad with a fork that she’d secured to her hoof with a thick rubber band. “We have all sorts of really cool stuff. Haven’t you seen the big TV screen in the library?”
“Yeah! That’s really cool!” Dinky said.
Marigold nodded somberly and added, “Sometimes Miss Buttercup will take a class there and we’ll watch a movie.”
“Miss Buttercup. Is that your kindergarten teacher?” Erin asked.
“Yeah,” Marigold said with a nod. Her face scrunched up. “The movies are usually about animals. I don’t care about animals! Not if you have metal tubes with wings that can fly.”
“Yeah! I want to see stuff like that!” Dinky said, standing on her chair with her forehooves on the table.
“Dinky, manners!” Ditzy scolded lightly.
The filly blushed and sat back down, the perfect picture of politeness. For all of about two seconds, and then she was grinning and bouncing in her seat. “So, ya think we can get documentaries on cool stuff? Or see some regular movies, sometime?”
“There are tons of movies with the entertainment center I gave to Twilight,” Erin said. “You haven’t seen any of them?”
“No!” Marigold huffed, crossing her legs across her chest. “Miss Buttercup says only educational stuff.” She snorted.
“And the screen thing in the library looks so much cooler than the one in the movie theater!” Dinky said, still bouncing.
An idea took root in Erin’s mind. “I’ll have to see what I can do about that.”
The fillies seemed satisfied with that, and the rest of dinner passed in idle chit-chat, mostly filly-driven talk of school and art and playground shenanigans. When the dinner plates were cleared away, Ditzy came out with the box containing the last of Erin’s Sugarcube Corner treats. If the fillies noticed that the treats were a little stale, they certainly didn’t complain about it.
Ditzy had just refused Erin’s second offer to help wash the dishes when a sharp knocking sounded at the front door. Ditzy excused herself to answer it, which allowed Erin to sneak into the kitchen and start stealth-washing some dirty plates in her sink. Marigold sat in the kitchen doorway, watching her with curious eyes.
“Why don’t you use magic?” she asked. “You’ve got a horn.”
“I haven’t learned how to use it, yet,” Erin admitted. She was standing on only her rear hooves, using her front hooves to try and clean the dishes in the hot, soapy water. It was clumsy and awkward work for her.
“Hmm…I’m still learning, too.”
“You can probably use more magic than I can, kiddo.” Erin looked back over to shoot the filly a grin, which froze on her face at the sight of the expressionless mare that stood behind her.
“Marigold, get your things,” Meadowlark said coldly. “We’re going home.”
Marigold had jumped halfway out of her skin at the unexpected sound of her mother’s voice. Now she was sitting there with a trembling pout as she looked up at her mother.
“But—”
“No. Get your things. We’re leaving.” She shot an icy glare at Erin. “I thought I told you to stay away from her.”
Erin’s mouth worked soundlessly for a few seconds. Meadowlark wordlessly scooped Marigold up with her magic, ignoring the squawk of protest from her daughter, and deposited her on her back.
“Why should she stay away from me, mom?” Marigold asked.
Meadowlark didn’t answer her, instead turning and walking away. As Meadowlark got further away, Marigold’s whining got more and more distant, until it was finally cut off by a slamming door.
Erin’s head spun, and the strength seemed to leave her all at once. She slumped against the kitchen sink, staring at the floor as tears burned at her eyes.
She tried to plan. She tried to think of something she could say or do that would make things alright again, but all she could think of was that she’d blown it. She didn’t know if Meadowlark would ever forgive her, which not only meant that she might not ever be friends with her again, not to mention that she wouldn’t be allowed to see Marigold.
When Ditzy cleared her throat, Erin shook herself and realized that she’d been staring at nothing for the last minute or two. She blinked her eyes and rubbed her leg across her eyes before looking up to see a shame-faced Ditzy standing in front of her.
“Well, that could have gone better,” Ditzy said sheepishly.
Erin let out a pained chuckle. “Yeah. Yeah, it really could have.” She glanced up to see Dinky peeking around the doorframe. The filly’s head jerked back the moment she realized she’d been spotted, which turned Erin’s laugh a little more genuine.
“Look, I’m sorry,” Ditzy said. “I didn’t realize that she was that mad…”
“Not your fault,” Erin said, shaking her head. She pushed away from the kitchen counter and dropped back to all four hooves. “I’m the one who was supposed to stay away from Marigold.”
Ditzy snorted, sounding a little angry. “That filly adores you. Meadowlark isn’t doing her any favors.”
Erin grunted noncommittally.
“Gotta be disappointing, though,” Ditzy said thoughtfully.
“What?”
“All that work being nice, and you didn’t even get to slurp up one single filly brain!”
Erin gaped at Ditzy, who was wearing a big, cheesy grin.
A tiny voice came from around the corner, tinged with horrified, eager fascination. “You eat filly brains?” Dinky asked.
Erin started laughing along with Ditzy as most of the tension fled the room. In the aftermath, Ditzy relented and allowed Erin to help with washing the dishes, which turned into a three-pony affair. Erin scrubbed off the food, Ditzy rinsed, and Dinky’s little face scrunched up in concentration as she used the cloth in her hooves to dry them.
When Erin finally went home an hour later, it wasn’t as bad of a mood as she had been in immediately after Meadowlark’s departure. Still, as she lay on her couch and stared off into the shadows, she wasn’t able to get Meadowlark’s coldly furious face out of her mind. It seemed pretty likely that she might have made any kind of reconciliation impossible.
Erin sighed and tried to make herself comfortable. It was a long time before she managed to fall asleep.