//------------------------------// // Chapter 5 // Story: Spectre of the Past // by Juntao112 //------------------------------// Noble citizens of Equestria, I would like to speak of the incident that occurred in Parliament late Monday night. What you have heard from the government is true; the three changelings who 'represented' House Argent were attacked by the Patriotic Order of the Nation of Equestria. However, I have come before you today so that you may hear our side of the story. Let me begin by saying that we do not relish the thought of violence; indeed, we took steps to ensure that no permanent harm would come to the changelings. All of you will be relieved to know that they are currently in stable condition, with one already on the verge of emerging from his coma. Why did we do it, then? Simply put, we could not stand idly by as changelings set foot in our country's great legislature. Parliament is supposed to be the voice of the citizens of Equestria, and we must take steps to ensure that it is always the case if our country is to prosper. This is a governement by ponies, of ponies, for ponies; other species have no business in its hallowed halls. I tell you now, we desire no more conflict with changelings, but they must not further encroach upon our sovereign rights! We have made too many compromises already; they invade us, we defend; they infiltrate us, we look the other way; they kidnap our kin, we parlay. I say no more! The line must be drawn here! This far, and no further! From this day forward, let us brook no further acts of aggression against our great country, let no pony consort with foreign influences, and to all the enemies of Equestria, take heed, for we shall emerge victorious, no matter the cost! "...EEG readings are stable, but the patient is still co..." Darkness? "...frequencies hovering at around 12 Hz, but there are signs of..." There was a brief flash of light, then all was black again. "Spike in activity! He's coming to!" Where was this? How did it come to be? The darkness was everywhere. Then came the realization that it was because both eyelids were shut. They instantly sprang open to reveal that the world was a bleary mess illuminated by harsh fluorescent lighting. Ponies in white coats clustered around strange machines next to an uncomfortable bed. A pink blur broke through the crowd of doctors and nurses to wrap her hooves around his neck. "Discord Q. Draconequus," he groaned, through a parched mouth and sore throat, "What happened to me?" The world finally came into focus; the doctors, nurses, medical devices, and Stiletto. He realized, with a start, that she had draped herself over his body; his chitinous body. Ace reflexively tried to assume his pony form, but found his magical reserves as dry as his mouth. He feebly dragged his hospital blanket over himselffor all the good it would have done, but he had been snugly tucked in and the blanket refused to budge. A team of Royal Guards in shining gold armor stormed into the room, sending the medical staff into disorder as they marched up to his bed. Their leader, an orange pegasus, pointed at Stiletto. "Get that mare out of here! This is a restricted area!" She shot Ace one last look before she was taken away. The doctors swarmed on him once again, each asking a dozen questions. He tried to focus on them, but the onslaught of voices overwhelmed his mind. "I'm sorry, I need you to give me more space!” He finally managed. "Can you please leave? And send in that mare?" The head doctor shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to refuse you on both counts. We need to make sure you're not suffering from any after–effects of that attack, and quite frankly, that mare shouldn't have even been able to get in here." Ace slumped down in his bed. "Fine, if I answer you questions, will you at least try to keep her around? She's...I think I owe her an apology." The doctor shook her head. "Kids these days...fine, I'll see if I can't put in a word for her, but don't count on it. The guard has this ward is on a security lockdown incase anypony tries to finish the job. They wouldn't even let your changeling friends in." She grabbed the chart at the foot of Ace's bed and flipped through it. "So, we couldn't figure out exactly what was wrong with you, but we did detect traces of dark magic. What do you remember?" What had happened to him? Fragments of memories flashed through his mind; he closed his eyes and did his best to stich them into a coherent narriative. "I was taking a break, and waved over a food cart. The servant pushing it took off…his? Her? Well, they took off a hat and I saw this horn, but…" Ace furrowed his brow. "Maybe I'm misremembering, but it didn't look right. Didn't match the unicorn's coat. It was...black, I think, or maybe red? A combination of both?" The doctor raised her eyebrows as she recorded Ace's words. "Both?" "Sorry, everything goes fuzzy right about then, because that's when the unicorn started flooding us with negative emotional energy. Gah, I hate thinking about it — you know how changelings feed on love and positive emotions in general?" "Yes, I was in Canterlot during the invasion." Other ponies Ace had encountered would have said the line with a trace of bitterness or venom, but the doctor sounded as if she were talking about his blood cholesterol level. "Er, right. Well, we don't respond well to negative emotions — they're frankly toxic to us. As a matter of fact, traditinally the hives has a policy of keeping Equestrian ponies happy, because unhappy ponies mean less food for them." She raised an eyebrow. "Not your's, I take it?" "Chrysalis always preferred brute force over traditional techniques." Ace cleared his throat. "Anyways…I don't think I've ever felt such raw hatred coming from anypony, ever. And that's about when we went into mental shock from it." He shuddered from the memory. The quill continued its journy across the page, unpeturbed by Ace's acount "Well, I wish your companions were awake to corroborate your account, but it seems roughly in line with what other witnesses and the evidence suggest. You'll be happy to know that Lord Blackwell's honor guards busted through a door on the far end of the corridor and scared the intruder off, though they unfortunately chose to escape via teleportation." "No leads?" "The Guard tells me they're still pretty much in the dark." She finished jotting down Ace's account and ripped the page off of the clipboard. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to show this to the Guard. I'll see to your girlfriend." Ace failed to correct her as she stepped outside. He caught a glimpse of the hallway as the door swung open, and saw Stiletto surrounded by guardponies and staring fiercely into the eyes of their commander. The occasional snippet of conversation made their way into the room; Ace caught the words "stable", "blatant violation", and "house representive on official house business." Five minutes later, Stiletto walked through the door, free from guard interference, and gestured for the nurses to leave. "Doctor says you should give us some privacy. I'll just be a moment, I promise." Some of the nurses grumbled, but most looked happy to leave. Ace told himself it was because they had a long day, not becaus they had a long day caring for a changeling. Ace swallowed nervously as Stiletto approached him. Tension built up in his midsection, to the point where his hooves were trembling. The blood rushed from his face as she sat down next to him, leaving his head spinning. He had no doubt that the flesh under his chitin was as pale as a grub. "Hey there." He put on a weak grin, barely showing off his fangs. "I, uh, bet you didn't expect this?" "Well, not quite…" She struggled to think of something to say, before lapsing into silence. They looked at each other for an eternty before she reached out and touched his mane. "Don't most changelings have a fin in place of hair?" "Technically, it's silk, and it's covering my unextended cranial fin." Ace flexed a muscle and Stiletto felt something brush past her hoof inside his mane. "Soldiers don't grow silk; it's more of a worker thing since we use it to make cocoons and webbing." Ace involuntarily sank into her hoof as she gently toyed with his fin. Despite her obvious nervousness, she was curious, and he could still sense affection wafting off of her. "Um, you're taking this really well…" "Actually, the fangs are kinda cute," she winked, before punching him in his chitinous foreleg. "Don't think that you're out of the woods yet, though. You should have told me!" "I...well…" Ace took in a deep breath. "You're right, I should have. I just wasn't sure when the right time was, and I didn't want to jeopardize our friendship. I mean, you make really great Prench toast, and I'd hate to lose that." "Ass!" She punched him in the shoulder. "If you don't watch your mouth, I'll stuff so much toast down it that you choke." There were several steps to making a good vodka martini. The most obvious one was to start with high–quality ingredients, such as very dry Prench vermouth and a well–filtered, potato based vodka, preferably one imported from Stalliongrad. Never grain based, though — Thunderball considered any alcohol distilled from grain to be a whiskey, including grain vodka. Underaged, overdistilled, heavily filtered whiskey, but still whiskey nontheless. Vodka was the spirit that remained when the rich body of a whiskey was stripped away. It was whiskey with low self–esteem, willing to mix with anything. The ratio between the vodka and vermouth was a matter of fierce debate in the cocktail community. Originally, martinis were made with gin and had an equal mixture of vermouth, but the amount of vermouth had steadily decreased since then, with some advocating that the cocktail glass be filled with spirits and waved in the direction of a bottle of vermouth. Thunderball walked up to a drinks cabinet next to his sofa and pulled out a cocktail shaker. He then opened the bottom cabinet to reveal a refrigerator with a bucket full of cracked ice. (Cracked ice was also important, for the greater surface area allowed the alcohol to cool much faster than if ice cubes were used.) The ice went into the shaker, followed by an 18:1 ratio of vodka to vermouth, with just a dash of orange bitters for flavor. Four solid shakes later, the mixture was in a chilled cocktail glass and garnished with a lemon twist. Thunderball sipped it slowly on the couch as he ran through Twilight's morning schedule. At 7:00 every morning, her alarm clock would sound. She would then hit the snooze button and wait ten minutes before it rang again, whereupon she would turn off the alarm and finally get out of bed. At 7:11, she would head into the bathroom, and depart eight minutes later for the kitchen, where Spike would serve her breakfast and tell her the news. Thunderball checked his wristwatch. It was 7:20, which meant that it was time to make another vodka martini. He mixed the ingredients again — adding an olive in place of the lemon twist this time — and finished just as a violent violet explosion filled his office again. "Why didn't anypony tell me that an attack took place?" The glass in his hand rattled from being subject to a close approximation of the Royal Canterlot Voice. Thunderball offered her the new martini. "Good morning, Your Highness. Would you care for a drink?" She ignored him and began wearing a hole in the dungeon's stone floor. "This is a disaster! Ponies are actually using violent measures to keep changelings out of Equestrian society! If we don't–" "Your Highness! If I may say so, this is precisely why I suggested Celestia not tell you about it last night." Thunderball gently guided Twilight to the sofa. "Forgive me, but I was afraid — and Celestia agreed — that you might do something rash. Now, I've been receiving reports, and can assure you that this was not an act by a common pony." "How can you be so sure?" "Residual dark magic was detected at the crime scene, and whoever did it scrambled their teleportation signature as they left. We're dealing with an extraordinarily powerful unicorn, not some bigot with a bone to pick over Canterlot." Thunderball sipped his martini. "On the brighter side, the general population is appalled at the attack, and this will, if anything, garner more sympathy." "I suppose. It's just that this is so…gah, not what I wanted to wake up to, you know?" Twilight looked over at Thunderball and saw him picked up the olive in his empty glass by its toothpick and examined it closely. "Isn't it a bit early for you to be drinking?" "I've been up all night, so technically, no." Thunderball ate the olive and tossed the toothpick away. "Back to business, the Internal Security Service has launched an investigation, and I'm sure they'll find our pony." Twilight squeezed her pillow in a manner that would have been lethal had it been alive. "So you're saying that I should do nothing?" "Oh no, not at all. But you should learn to delegate, Your Highness. We are no longer in the day and age where the monarch has to micromanage the affairs of state." Twilight's mane twitched. "But taking an active role in things is how I approach a problem! Maybe I should spend more time around Adjutant, Bonling, and Ace? But Adjutant and Bonling are still in a coma in Canterlot, while Ace will be back in Ponyville soon. I'd have to be in two places at once." Twilight looked downcast for a moment, then sprang up off of the couch in glee. "Wait, I know; the mirror pool! I'll just–" "Alternatively," Thunderball added with indecent haste, "You could just spend time in Canterlot, while I arrange for additional security in Ponyville." "Oh, right." Twilight grinned sheepishly. "I guess that works too."