It was well past noon when flight practice ended. Rainbow Dash and Erin, out of their harnesses and back in town, decided to make a quick stop at a local cafe for lunch. And, all that time, Rainbow had kept up an almost non-stop stream of advice and information about flying.
“For example,” Dash said after their food arrived, “you can increase the air resistance on the downstroke, and decrease it on the upstroke. It really helps to avoid tiring you out.”
Erin, who hadn’t been able to stop smiling since before they had landed, simply nodded.
“That’s another reason to work up strength in your wings, of course,” Rainbow continued. “The stronger you can flap, the higher you can make the resistance on the downstroke. You get a lot of speed that way!”
Rainbow kept on talking, giving tidbits of advice and relating stories. She even started using parts of her lunch as visual aids, sketching out a few basic maneuvers with carrot and celery sticks indicating altitude and a cherry tomato acting as the pegasus.
“I should get you a sports camera,” Erin said vaguely as she picked at her salad. “You could wear it and record yourself as you flew.”
It took a few seconds for it to register that Rainbow had stopped talking. Erin looked up to see Rainbow staring at her, the cherry tomato still under her hoof.
“A… a sports camera?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s like a little movie camera. Lots of people use them for stuff like doing tricks or skydiving and stuff like that.”
“And it could record my stunts?”
“Well, yeah.”
Rainbow put her forehooves on the table and leaned forward, crushing her impromptu diorama underhoof as she did so. “Erin, I need one of those! I’ll... How much do they cost? I’ve got money!” She blinked and frowned. “I’ve got some money. How much? Wait… didn’t you say that tablet you got for me has a camera?”
Erin couldn’t help laughing at her friend’s sudden intensity. “Yeah, but I wouldn’t use that. Not unless you’ve got some way of keeping it really secure, and to keep water out of it. Sports cameras can take more of a beating. I’ll get one for you, I promise. Honestly, I feel a little bad I didn’t think of getting one before I came here.”
“Awesome," Rainbow said with a grin as she sat back down. Then she looked down at the table. "Oh, heck. I mushed my tomato!”
Erin started giggling at that, and Rainbow’s coarse laugh joined in a moment later.
The conversation went back to flight basics for the rest of her meal. Erin didn’t mind, and tried her best to pay close attention to everything Rainbow told her. After the bill came, they went their separate ways, with Rainbow needing to take care of some of the local weather.
After trotting away from the cafe, Erin stopped by Whirlygig’s Flight Emporium once again in order to pick up a set of flight goggles, something she had decided to get when Rainbow, in a fit of optimism, had taken her on a loop-de-loop. She’d spent the entire time screaming in mingled joy and terror, her eyes squeezed nearly shut as the wind tore at her corneas.
Whirlygig, as quirky as ever, seemed overjoyed to see her. “Twice in one week!” he said when she walked in. “I’m feeling particularly blessed, today!”
In the end, Erin settled on two pairs of goggles, one with clear lenses and one tinted. When it came time to try them on, she took one look at herself in the mirror before bursting out laughing.
“Something wrong?” Whirlygig asked.
“No, no. I just know now why Rainbow Dash keeps her mane so short.” Erin ran a hoof across her wilder-than-ever mane, the mass of hair all tangled and swept back from her face. “It’s got to make it easier to manage.”
“Aw, don’t worry, missy!” Whirlygig said with a chuckle. “You look great with that windblown look! To a pegasus, at least.”
Erin’s first reaction was to resort to her standard “smile, blush and look away” technique of dealing with unexpected compliments. This was followed by the mild discomfort of knowing that, not only did a pony find her attractive, but that his attraction was to a face that wasn’t even really hers, wasn’t even human.
It had happened before, and she still wasn’t really sure how she felt about that.
“Well,” she said, deciding to ignore the compliment, “let’s see how these things fit.”
~~*~~
Erin became aware of the not-quite-shouting discussion as she approached her home. Two ponies, both voices distressingly familiar, were having an argument. And, unless Erin was badly mistaken, she had a good idea of what, or rather who they were arguing about.
She broke into a quick trot, arriving quickly on the scene. As she feared, Meadowlark and Ditzy were having an argument in Ditzy’s front yard. Fortunately, both Dinky and Marigold seemed to be absent, most likely at school. Which was probably the reason why Meadowlark had decided to stop by now, rather than later.
“—doesn’t matter,” Meadowlark was saying, her voice harsh. “Stop trying to defend her! She knew my wishes, and even if it was your idea, she should have—”
Ditzy cut her off, a vexed expression over her features. “And I keep telling you, she wanted to leave! She wouldn’t have stayed, but I talked her into it!”
Ditzy’s right eye was pointing in a different direction than her left. Erin, remembering what her neighbor had said about stress contributing to that particular problem, picked up the pace, trying to get there before either one said something they’d regret after they calmed down.
“I have half a mind to forbid Marigold from playing with Dinky ever again!”
Something like that, Erin thought wryly. Out loud, she said, “I hope you’re not serious.”
Both ponies froze, then looked around at her. Ditzy looked slightly panicked for some reason. In contrast, Meadowlark narrowed her eyes and folded her ears flat against her head. Turning her back on Ditzy, Meadowlark trotted forward.
“About time you showed up. We need to talk.”
Those four words were never a good sign, Erin reflected. She braced herself, schooling her expression to neutrality.
“Okay,” Erin replied carefully. “Would you like to come into my house? We can talk more privately there.”
Meadowlark looked wary for a moment, then nodded. “Fine.”
“Do you mind if I stop by later, Ditzy?” Erin asked.
Her neighbor blinked a couple of times, her eyes going back to normal as she looked back and forth between Erin and Meadowlark. “Uh, sure.”
“Thanks.”
Erin led Meadowlark into her house, noting that the other mare, as angry as she probably was with her, still took the time to clean her hooves off on the welcome mat before coming inside.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Erin asked. “I’m afraid all I have right now is water.”
“Forget it,” Meadowlark said stiffly. “I’m not staying long.”
Erin checked the sigh that tried to erupt from her chest. Obviously, Meadowlark was in lecture mode and intended to have her say.
“I can’t say how disappointed I am Sun— Erin,” Meadowlark said. “I had made my wishes perfectly clear, and the first chance you get, you violate them.”
“That’s true,” Erin said. “Well, almost. I’ve had chances every day this week to stop by the Guest House. I decided to give you a chance to come to me, instead.”
“And, if I hadn’t?” Meadowlark huffed.
Erin flinched at the thought. “Then I guess that would have been that.”
“So, why, then? Help me understand, Erin!” Meadowlark gestured out the door towards Ditzy’s house. “Why would you so blatantly violate my wishes?”
“I didn’t want to,” Erin said. “What Ditzy said was true, I wanted to leave.”
“Don’t blame this on her!” Meadowlark shouted, lowering her head and pawing her hoof across the floor as if she were about to charge.
“I’m not!” Erin said, raising a forehoof defensively. She repeated herself more calmly. “I’m not. It’s true that she suggested I stay, but the real reason is because I decided to.”
“Well, then—” Meadowlark started, but Erin wasn’t done yet.
“The main reason I stayed? It was because I couldn’t think of a way to say to Marigold that I had to leave. She would have wanted to know why. What was I supposed to say?”
“Nothing. Anything. I don’t know, whatever.” Meadowlark’s mouth twisted as if she’d eaten something sour. “That’s not my problem. My problem is you.”
Erin felt her heart rate climbing. “So, what? I should have just walked away without a word? Made Marigold think I was mad at her, or that I didn’t like her, or that she’d said something wrong? Is that what you wanted?”
She had said that more forcefully than she’d intended. One corner of her mind was frantically trying to get her attention, to make her aware that she was getting upset. The rest of her was too focused on the situation to notice.
“Of course not!” Meadowlark snorted. “You shouldn’t have been over there in the first place!”
“Ditzy is my neighbor and she invited me over! I didn’t know Dinky was Marigold’s friend. Or that she was coming over last night!”
“Fine. You still should have left! Found a way not to make Marigold upset and left.”
Erin pursed her lips as she considered her response to that. “We’re going around in circles, now,” she said after a few seconds. “We’re right back where we started. I already told you, if I could have thought of a way to leave without hurting her, I would have!”
Meadowlark’s face was tight, her eyes narrow and her ears pinned back, the muscles of her jaw bulging as she glared at Erin.
“Look,” Erin said after half a minute had gone by. “I am more than happy to stay away from the Guest House, if you still want me to. And I’ll try to avoid Marigold if I can. But do you really want me to act like I don’t care about her anymore?”
Meadowlark flinched and looked away. “No. But, this? This isn’t going to work.”
“What do you mean?”
“You living here. Next to Ditzy. You have to move.”
Erin barked an incredulous laugh before she realized that Meadowlark was serious. “Wait, you actually want me to move?”
“If you want Marigold and Dinky to still be friends, yes.”
“No,” Erin said, shaking her head. “No, I… I just got settled in! I have a bed showing up later today, if they haven’t delivered it already! I can’t… I’m not going to move.”
“That would be the best solution!”
Erin shook her head as an ember of resentment started glowing in her chest. “It’s not a solution, it’s just more avoidance!”
“Do you really want me to have to tell Marigold that she can’t be friends with Dinky anymore? Because that’s what this is coming down to!”
Erin’s mouth hung open as she absorbed that. Confusion turned to incredulity, which in turn fanned that ember of sullen resentment into anger. “Don’t you dare lay that on me!” she snapped.
“Now, you look here—” Meadowlark started, her ears going back again.
“No!” Erin stomped a hoof. “You don’t get to put this all on me!”
“If you had listened to me—” Meadowlark began, but Erin was in no mood to listen.
“I did listen to you! I stayed away from you, just like you asked, for months. Months! You said you needed time, and I gave it to you, but I’m not going to wait forever!” Erin stomped on the floor once again with a forehoof, and Meadowlark flinched back defensively. “If you want our friendship to be over, that's fine! Just tell me so I stop hanging on and hoping you’ll forgive me one day. But I won’t let you blame me for your decisions!”
Meadowlark, who had drawn back and raised a foreleg defensively across her chest when Erin had started yelling, slowly put her hoof back down. And then, without a word, she turned and walked back out of Erin’s house.
Erin watched her go, guilt and anger mingling with regret, her stomach churning with nausea. She felt a strong urge to call out, to apologize for what she’d said, but it was almost as if she could hear Applejack’s voice in her ear, asking if what she’d said was honestly how she felt.
It was. She let Meadowlark leave without another word.
~~*Twilight*~~
The Earth Diplomatic Corps was contained in a large and nicely-appointed office building in downtown Canterlot. As Twilight trotted up, she took in the marble facade and the fluted columns, which indicated that the building had likely been built roughly one hundred and eighty years ago, when that sort of look had been in style. A quick glance at the bronze plaque on the side of the building confirmed her suspicion. She walked into the building with a satisfied smile.
After entering through the main door, her hooves sank into the plush red carpeting almost up to the fetlocks, making for very comfortable yet simultaneously uncertain footing. A little like walking on pillows, Twilight decided. She looked around for some indication of where to go, and spotted an information notice on the dark oak wall.
According to the sign, she could find the Equestrian Cultural Exchange Committee in room 227, up on the second floor. Twilight climbed the staircase and ended up finding the room she was looking for at the end of the hallway.
From what Celestia had told her, the director of this particular project, Backstitch, had gone to lunch a few days ago and had never come back, leaving the project somewhat in disarray on the Equestrian end. Twilight, with her love of organizing, was only too happy to look things over. Spike, the great little guy that he was, had offered to help, but Twilight had left him to be pampered by her mother until she knew a little more about what she was getting into.
Twilight took a steadying breath and knocked a hoof against the door. After a minute of nopony answering, she cautiously opened the door and peeked inside with a tentative “Hello?”
There were four desks inside the room, each in its own corner. Large metal filing cabinets took up whatever wall space wasn’t being used by the desks, or by the window on the south wall. A quick glance assured her that nopony was around.
“There was supposed to be somepony here,” Twilight muttered darkly as she let herself in.
She took a closer look at the desks and had to repress a flinch. The office was a mess, with piles of paperwork and empty paper coffee cups everywhere. With nothing better to do until the missing ponies returned from wherever they were, Twilight began idly clearing things up.
She had only meant to get rid of the empty coffee cups and other obvious refuse, but curiosity had gotten the better of her, and she soon found herself reading through the stacks of paper on the desks, and even straightening things up as she went. She knew better than to remove any paperwork from the desks themselves, though; she might lose somepony hours of work if she did so.
Still, stacking everything a little more neatly wouldn’t hurt anypony, would it?
It was while she was simultaneously reading through an exchange student’s folder and rearranging the pencils on one desk that she heard approaching hoofsteps and voices in conversation. The door was flung open and three ponies came marching in, two mares and a stallion.
“—and tell her that we don’t need any… who the blazes are you?” the stallion demanded.
Twilight quailed a little at the hostile look and tone, but quickly put on her best winning smile. “Ahem. Hello. I’m Twilight Sparkle. I was asked to stop by and make sure everything was going well after Backstitch left her job.”
“Oh. Yeah, I heard about that,” the stallion said, frowning. “I said I didn’t need anypony’s help. We got this under control.”
“I’m certain you do. Still, having an extra pair of eyes wouldn’t hurt, would it?” Twilight held up the folder she’d been reading. “For example, I see that you’re telling the students that it will be alright to bring their electronic devices—”
“Yes. Our human counterparts told us that their young people are practically inseparable from those things.”
Twilight’s smile got a little bit brittle around the edges. “From what I understand, that’s true for most humans. And please, this will go a lot faster if you stop interrupting me.”
The stallion grumbled something that Twilight decided that she was glad she couldn’t make out.
“The problem is, I haven’t seen anything regarding power converters. Have the humans said they would provide them?”
Now that seemed to finally throw the stallion off. His eyes narrowed as he frowned. “Power converters?”
“Yes. Human electronics won’t plug into Equestrian outlets. Also, the voltages are typically incompatible. Oftentimes the wattage is insufficient, requiring some sort of battery arrangement.” Twilight tilted her head to one side and smiled sweetly. “These humans won’t have any way to use their fancy technological devices without some way of recharging them, after all.”
“Oh.” The stallion let out an annoyed sigh and flicked his tail. “I didn’t know that.”
“Well, most ponies wouldn’t,” Twilight said kindly. “I just happen to know more about humans and their culture than most ponies. After all, I’m good friends with one of them.”
“Well, shouldn’t the humans provide them, then?” the stallion huffed.
“Yes, but we need to pay for them,” Twilight said, holding onto her patience with all four hooves. “Just like the humans requisitioned and paid for all the magical torcs that our students will need, even though they had to be built in Equestria.” She waved a stack of forms with her magic. “That’s these forms, here, which were supposed to have been filled out last week.”
“Ah,” the stallion said, chewing his lower lip. Then he sighed again, seeming to deflate. “Damn.”
Twilight glanced at the two mares, who had been staying silent for the duration of the exchange, and then looked back at the stubborn stallion. “Maybe we should start with introductions? Once again, I’m Twilight Sparkle. And I’m very happy to meet you, Mister..?”
“...Rivets. Iron Rivets,” the stallion said somewhat grudgingly.
The unicorn mare dipped her head. "I'm Ember," she said.
"And I'm Snowdrift," the pegasus mare said with a wide grin. "Thanks, I think we can use the help."
Twilight’s smile turned more genuine. It was progress, at least.
“All right, then,” she said, pulling out a quill and placing the stack of paper on a nearby desk. “Let’s start filling out forms!”
~~*Erin*~~
“So, how did it go?” Ditzy asked, sitting across from Erin at the dining room table. Little Dinky had come home by this point, and was coloring quietly in the living room.
“Could have gone better,” Erin said with a sigh. She was grateful that she had at least managed to stop crying by now, though it had taken her some time standing in her living room before she'd settled down.
She related the entire story, keeping her voice down so that Dinky wouldn’t overhear. The entire time, Ditzy listened with a thoughtful expression, staying silent except for the occasional encouraging noise in order to keep Erin talking. When Erin finally finished her recap, Ditzy frowned and sighed.
“That mare is too stubborn for her own good, sometimes,” Ditzy said. “I mean, she’s incredibly smart, but she latches onto things and refuses to let go.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Erin said dryly, which caused Ditzy to laugh.
“Yeah, well… Hopefully, in a few days she’ll see reason. I’m glad you stood up for yourself, though.”
Erin blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Well, Meadowlark has a tendency to just push forward relentlessly. She usually won’t change course unless something makes her.” Ditzy grinned and reached across the table to pat Erin on the shoulder. “So, congratulations on pushing back!”
“Yeah, well…” Erin’s mouth quirked up in an uncomfortable half-smile. “If I’d known that, I would have yelled at her weeks ago.”
Ditzy gave a sympathetic chuckle at that. “Well, it could still explode in your face either way. I swear, that mare’s mind is a treacherous path to walk, sometimes. Especially where Marigold is concerned.” She cast a warm look over her shoulder, to where Dinky was coloring, and smiled. “Not that I can’t understand why.”
“Yeah, I can too,” Erin replied with a sad smile.
"Well, enough about that," Ditzy said. "Let's talk about more pleasant stuff! How's the new house coming along?"
Erin offered up a lopsided smile. "Pretty good. It turns out that my new bed was delivered earlier today, so I don't have to sleep on the couch anymore."
"Oh!" Ditzy blinked a few times. "That can't be good for your back. Or your wings, for that matter!"
Erin shrugged. "It's a pretty comfy couch. Still, I'm glad to have an actual bed."
"You know, I never had to use one before I had Dinky," Ditzy said, a wistful tone in her voice. "I'd just scrape together a cloud and sleep on that."
Erin straightened up. "Oh, why did I never think of that? I can sleep on clouds, now!" She grinned, feeling happy again for the first time since Meadowlark had left her house. "I totally have to try that!" A thought occurred to her, then. "Do the hotels in Cloudsdale have cloud-beds?"
"Huh... I think so?" Ditzy shrugged. "I don't know, I never stayed in a hotel there. Whenever we visit Cloudsdale, we usually stay with my aunt or my cousin."
"Lucky." Erin sighed wistfully. "I really want to visit Cloudsdale."
Ditzy's ears perked up. "Oh? Why is that?"
"I saw it for the first time on my way to Canterlot," Erin said. "It just seemed... Well, it might sound silly, but it seemed so magical. Even more so than Canterlot." She chuckled wryly. "Of course, I couldn't have visited it then. No cloud-walking for me."
"Eh, they have unicorns to cast cloud-walking spells on visitors," Ditzy said with a dismissive hoof-wave. "How do you think Dinky visits?"
"Oh, yeah." Erin considered that for a moment. "Come to think of it, I seem to remember Twilight talking about a cloud-walking spell."
"So, how about this weekend?" Ditzy asked, leaning forward with an eager smile on her face.
"This weekend?" Erin repeated, confused. "What?"
"Visiting Cloudsdale!" Ditzy winked an amber eye at her. "I'm sure my aunt would love to meet you! We could go together, and I could show you around."
Erin gaped at her for a moment before letting out a joyous laugh.
“Oh, wow, that would be great! But… I don’t know…” Erin trailed off, frowning. “I was going to head to Canterlot this weekend. Twilight said she might need my help on some sort of Cultural Exchange thing, and I wanted to order some stuff from Earth while the gateway is open.”
“Hm… Well, Dinky has always wanted to see Canterlot. How about we go up there together on Saturday, then we can all take an airship to Cloudsdale if Twilight doesn't need you? It's a win-win, as far as I'm concerned.”
Erin couldn't have stopped the smile that spread across her face if she'd wanted to. “That would work for me!” She bounced in her seat and raised her forehooves over her head. "Yay, Cloudsdale!"
"Yay, Cloudsdale!" Dinky echoed from the other room.
Ditzy and Erin stared at each other for a second before they both burst out laughing.
~~*Caretaker*~~
The Caretaker stood at the entrance to the Chamber of the Goddess and struck his staff once upon the floor. The room was a giant sphere, thirty paces across and almost perfectly round. The interior was made of milky-white stone with veins of glowing red that provided the only light with which to see. Otherwise, the room was featureless, with the exception of the narrow staircase that led from the hallway outside to the bottom of the chamber, ending in a flat circle three paces wide.
The Caretaker descended the stairs, his staff tapping each step as he went down. When he reached the center platform, he set the staff into a hole that had been bored into the rock. Then he folded his four arms and waited.
The wall in front of him began to glow red, brighter and brighter, then faded. A line of pure blackness, wider in the middle and tapering to a point at the top and bottom, appeared down the center.
The Chamber, when active, had always unnerved the Caretaker. It was like standing inside of a gigantic eye. Which, in effect, is exactly what it was. A sense of energy filled the air, and he knew he was the center of the Goddess’ attention.
He bowed low and spoke in a language that no living ear had heard for time uncounted. “My Goddess.”
The voice that replied was low and smooth, reverberating from the walls, sounding mildly amused. “Am I, still? And are you still my worthy Ardent?” The voice of the Goddess took on a darker tone. “Or are you still as I named you, so very long ago? Betrayer. Destroyer. False Prophet.” There was a short pause. “Murderer.”
The Caretaker straightened, ignoring the taunt. The Goddess would try to divert and distract him, he knew. Instead, he got straight to the point. “There are intruders on our world, Goddess. Have you let them in?”
He waited patiently through the long silence that followed. He finally got the answer when the Goddess began hissing with laughter.
“I see,” he said, shaking his head sadly. “To what purpose?”
The laughter continued, taking on a more frantic and insane pitch. It cut off suddenly, and the Goddess once again spoke, the sharpness of her voice indicating the fury that lie beneath her words. “Free the Dreamers, my Ardent. The Dreamers, and myself. Free us, or this world shall burn. Your precious order, this stagnant world, it will crumble into chaos and madness, and you with it! This, I Foretell. Your only hope is to break the system yourself. No action you undertake can save you now, but if you free us, perhaps the world itself can still be saved.”
A shiver ran down the Caretaker’s spine. Talking with the Goddess was like walking a treacherous path in full darkness. He steadied his breathing and reminded himself that it wasn’t impossible for the Goddess to lie. Even if she were telling the truth, no Foretelling was perfect or immutable. Not even when the one who Foretold was the Goddess herself.
“No. Order shall be maintained.”
As the Goddess began to wail her protest, he snatched his staff from the hole in which it rested. The great Eye of the Goddess began to fade, her cries dwindling away to nothing as the Caretaker stood and watched, cradling his staff in his arms. Eventually, the stone dimmed and returned to normal.
The Caretaker turned to walk back up the stairs. He hesitated, then spoke quietly, though he knew she could no longer hear him.
“And, I am sorry. But you shall never be free.”
The vast, empty hallways once again echoed with the sound of his staff as he made his way back to the room in which he’d first awoken. He waved one of his four arms, calling up a holographic representation of his world. It was small enough that he could reach around it with two arms, if only barely. Continents and seas in miniature were displayed before him as the model world turned slowly. Weather patterns were clear to the eye.
If he wished it, portions of the holographic display could be enlarged to show whatever level of detail he wanted, down to the individual leaves on trees. With a word, he could switch from the air currents to the magnetic field. It could even display the fields of magic that surrounded the world: The greater field, which was strong, wild and restrained, and the lesser field which was much tame and weak.
The resonance of the intersecting veil had been recorded, and it was a simple matter at that point for him to begin acquiring information. Interestingly enough, it appeared that the invaders’ world had no magical field of its own. All the more wonder that the Goddess would bother with them, if that were the case.
If the invaders were unable to use magic, then they posed very little threat overall. In addition, the portals opened so far were small, and they all opened within a relatively contained area. This made the incursions easy enough to defend against. This wasn’t an invasion, it was a nuisance.
Once again he puzzled over what the Goddess was planning. Caution was required. For all that he knew, responding aggressively would play directly into the Goddess’ plans. He needed to gather information before any response could be made. With that thought in mind, the Caretaker uttered a word. The holographic display changed, the world itself becoming indistinct and transparent. Brilliant dots of lights appeared across the display, swarming in the millions over the land, through the seas and across the skies.
They were the Dreamers. And it was these Dreamers that the Caretaker had devoted himself to protecting. Thus it was with a sense of grim necessity that he reached a thin-fingered hand into the display and hooked a claw into one of those bright specks at random, drawing it from the teeming multitude.
The Dreamer squirmed and twisted, trying to escape, but the Caretaker’s clawed hands allowed it no release.
“I am so very sorry, my friend," he said sadly.
He brought the struggling Dreamer with him to another display, first examining the mind he held. Astoundingly enough, there were still some faint memories, a vague sense of self, still lingering. Even after all this time, this Dreamer still had some individuality. Amazing.
The fragmented memories had to go, of course. They were stripped away and discarded. The sense of individuality, however, was reinforced. And, with it, new information was added, a new purpose. The Dreamer, or what was left of it, stopped trying to escape as it finally accepted its new purpose.
Remaking the Dreamer had taken a considerable amount of time. And it needed a new name, as it was no longer a Dreamer.
“Infiltrator,” the Caretaker said, giving it a name. “The first of your kind. And, I can hope, the last.”
The Caretaker was under no illusions; this thing that he had created was a monstrosity. A work of art, maybe, but a horrific one. Still, it was a necessity. The Goddess was many things, but she was no fool. There was more to this situation than was immediately apparent, and the information this one gathered could prevent untold tragedy from befalling his world.
They didn’t need to wait long. The intruders opened a gateway the next day, once again violating the world he was sworn to protect. He imagined the Goddess laughing as he brought up a holographic display that showed the location.
A room of metal and concrete existed on the other side of that hole in reality. The Caretaker released the Infiltrator, telling it bring back all the information it could. Then there was nothing left but to wait.