//------------------------------// // CH. Nine - There is No Choice // Story: Beneath the Canon You Settle For // by The Amateur //------------------------------// The sun began its crawl up the velvet canvas of night not soon after I had left Cloudsdale’s boundaries. The contours of purple spread over the mountains like spilled wine; as my flight north went on, hues of red and green began manifesting themselves in the mixture. My long flight gave me ample time to enjoy the slow ascent of the sun. In this drugged–up reality, the subtle was something of a haven for the sane. Well, I was temporarily ‘clinically insane.’ The words were the only terms I had to agree to, and in exchange, I had more time to piece the mystery together. There were no leads to follow in this case–– no powerful shadow organizations or mustache–swirling smugglers to stomp out. All I had was my trigger hoof and my gut instinct as a detective. It was still too dark to make out anything of the country below. A void filled the expanse up to the border that separated the night sky and the dawn. Just peering into it made my brain numb. This early in the morning, it was as though rural Equestria was a toy box, tucked under the bed until the next playtime. None of those fluorescent colors or unnatural smiles would come out unless a child made use of it. I was hardly aware that I was slowing until Jetstream passed me. The autumn–colored pegasus was the sight that pulled me out of the trance. She gave me a knowing glance as I caught up. Jetstream flew level with me on my 3 o’clock, refusing to let my eyes shy away from hers. The mad pony knew I would have to acknowledge her to watch the dawn. “Frightening thought, ain’t it?” she asked. Curse my curiosity. She finally had her audience. I answered, “What is?” “The possibility that we could all be mere playthings in a world crafted for someone’s amusement. I see what you see, Fleetfoot.” “What? How did you know what I was thinking…? Actually, don’t answer that.” Behind Jetstream’s head, to the east, the beginning of the day was approaching. It was a sight to die for. Gold laced the outlines of mountains and cities: the embroidery of the sun herself. Whatever madness I had seen in the void below faded into a footnote in my mind as the features of the land lit up. The horrid thought I had looking into its depths was finally erased as the staccato singing of the lark echoed from a lonely corner below. At least, I was sure it was a lark. It took me a moment to remember the pony flying next to me. Another moment longer to find the question that had been pestering me: “Jetstream, why again are you coming with us?” – 10 hours earlier. “Hi,” Rainbow Dash squeaked. I grunted in response. Loyalty had all my legs pinned under hers, easily brushing aside any of my attempts to overpower her. So much for my flawless escape. “Heh. Nice work, Rainbow Dash!” Spitfire approached us with a brazen smile. To add injury to insult, she ruffled my mane and whispered in my ear, “You’re getting predictable, Hemingway. This whole ‘violence is always the answer’ vigilante act is starting to get old. Luckily, we brought our biggest fan along as backup.” Spitfire then stood up and walked over to where Soarin’s crumpled form lied. She gave him a nudge with her hoof, only to garner a groan in response. Weakling. “C’mon Soarin, this wouldn’t be the first time you got punched in the face. Get up.” She left me with our “biggest fan.” I did not know what was more horrifying at the moment, the fact that she was crushing my legs under her weight or the fact that she had not blinked once this whole time. Had she put on clown makeup, she would have realized all my childhood nightmares. Rainbow hardly seemed to notice though. She was preoccupied with something Spitfire said: “Did you hear what Spitfire said! She acknowledged me as your biggest fan! Oh my gosh, I don’t even know how to thank you. If you hadn’t lost your mind, I wouldn’t have ever had the chance to help out the Wonderbolts! Hope you didn’t mind the tackle… forward momentum and all that physical science. Blame the egghead stuff. But I was fast, right?” I chose my next words carefully, holding back a melting pot of explicits for someone who really deserved it. And someone who could not strangle me on the spot. “Yeah. Very fast. I barely saw you flying at me.” “Thanks! I’m glad to help! So… uh, what can I do for you, Fleetfoot? Besides letting you go.” As far as I had heard, Loyalty had been one of the harsher elements in Celestia’s regime. Stories of cruel and unusual punishment were common from folks who had been to Ponyville–– often ironically justified by a need to re–educate transgressors in “the principles of friendship.” In short, she was the totalitarian monarch’s enforcer. With the slightest hint of strain, I responded, “You could lessen the weight on my legs.” I had no idea what I expected, asking Celestia’s most feared henchpony for mercy. She seemed like a well-intentioned type, but good intentions never entailed a good pony. “Heh. Sorry about that,” she said, fluttering on her wings to take a majority of her weight off of me. Funny thing was that sometimes you could be wrong. It was certainly not the first and most humiliating time I had to recall that advice. But for the Goddesses’ sake, this was Loyalty herself. What was this world coming to? “Fleetfoot? Are you okay? You look a little out of it.” “I’m fine! I’m fine,” I answered with composure. Being a hardened veteran of Cloudsdale’s underworld, I thought I had seen it all. Now that I had been given reprieve by the monarch’s own fanatic enforcer, I knew for certain I had seen it all. Rainbow Dash cocked her head to the side, staring at me with raised eyebrows. The mare looked as though she had never seen anyone monologue to herself. I returned the expression in silence. We spent the rest of the time like that until Soarin was back on his four noodle legs. “S–she punched me! Ah, it still burns!” the whiney Wonderbolt whimpered. Soarin looked not the least bit like he had at the bar last night. It was as though all his redeeming qualities had been expurgated so as to leave only a sobbing and crass child in a stallion’s body. That did not mean I was sorry for the haymaker. “Yeah, and I took a chair to the chest. Look at me, Soarin! Hardly a scratch,” Spitfire casually boasted. She trotted around my head to stand next to Rainbow Dash. “Just you wait, Fleetfoot. After therapy’s over, we’ll work you as hard as a draft horse!” “Like Big Macintosh, ma’am?” Rainbow grinned. Now it was the devil smiling at me–– Loyalty as I heard from the rumors. “Yeah! Like Macintosh!” Spitfire paused. “That’s Applejack’s brother?” “Yes, ma’am!” “At ease!” If I remembered Wonderbolt training correctly, then draft horse training would leave me a shell of my former self. I would sooner take gunshots to the chest than fly through those sessions again! Therapy it was then. I answered through clenched teeth, “Fine, take me to a therapist. Cure me, rehabilitate me, do whatever you want to return me to the sane herd.” Spitfire hardly tried to hide her smirk. Sure, her teammate was getting committed; all that mattered then was that she had won. “There, there, Fleetfoot. The therapist Rainbow Dash found for you will have you fixed in no time.” Wait a minute, what!? Who let this mare choose the therapist? Rainbow’s grin, miraculously, kept growing. She said, “My friend’s an expert! With a bit of persuasion from me, I got you booked for an entire week at her place in Ponyville.” A whole week. I was going to need a drink before this night was over. – 2 hours later. “I forgot alcohol didn’t exist here.” Same way I had forgotten my daughter the first time I had been here. It seemed I was just as adept at self–loathing sober as I was drunk. Solar Wind––or Star Hunter, whatever it was––had reclined himself to little more than an outlet for my ramblings. “Mhmm.” The navy blue bartender was cleaning an empty counter. I had stopped by on a slow night. He and I had just each other for company. It was little wonder how he was such a good listener, considering how many sentimental ponies he surrounded himself with. I took a swig of water. The glass was half empty when it fell back on the counter. Star Hunter was not my friend, not the one I remembered, but if there was one thing that remained constant, it was that I could tell him anything. So I did. “They’ve gotten me committed, Sol– Star Hunter.” “Is that so? I was worrying that Spitfire would’ve never found you after you left earlier today.” “No, she tracked me down. I was cornered, and my only option was to accept therapy. I’ll be gone for an entire week to see some mad psychiatrist in Ponyville. Can you believe that?” Star Hunter showed no disbelief. Stoic as ever. “Now, you don’t know if the psychiatrist’s mad.” “Rainbow Dash suggested her.” “May the Goddesses see you through this week.” I emptied my glass to that. Star Hunter followed suit with a mug of cider. We sat there for a spell, peering at the bottoms of our respective drinks. It was just like old times–– as close as I would get to the past. “I should get going. I’ll need a short nap before I fly north.” I threw a few bits on the counter for the glass and conversation. They were terribly inconvenient compared to dollars, but I apparently had plenty to spare. The forgotten benefits of being a Wonderbolt. I began my trot out of the tavern. “Fleetfoot.” I stopped at the entrance. The orange light was all that held against Pulsant District’s persistent darkness. I was in no hurry to rush back out there. My head turned to look at Star Hunter, who wore sympathy like a funeral veil on his face. “I’m sorry about everything that’s been happening to you.” It was Solar Wind’s way of maintaining neutrality in my war on reality. It did not beg forgiveness. He knew better. I wished I could have stayed longer in that bar; everything I still recognized was inside this bastion. I wished. “Good night, Star Hunter.” “Night, Fleetfoot.” – Back in the present. Night had rolled back entirely. The day was past the threshold of dawn, settling at last on a foggy morning above Equestria. Only I seemed to notice though; Jetstream was too busy saying something. “What did you say?” Jetstream snorted in annoyance. “I said that I was coming along, because I have a friend in Ponyville I need to talk to right now. I figured, since you and Rainbow Dash were flying there today, that I would join you two!” “Jetstream, is it?” Rainbow fell back and took to my 9 o’clock. She had some rather impressive hearing, considering the 50 meter between me and her. “I’m not sure why you chose to fly out this early. No offense or anything, but you don’t look like a morning pegasus.” Jetstream smiled. No bags under her eyes, no sour mood. I never found out how she made her energy reserves last an eternity. “I’m the morning paper pony! It’s part of my job to wake up early.” Rainbow was scrutinizing her still. She was taking her escort duty seriously. “Don’t you have a job right now?” she asked. “I took a day off today. I never use any of my sick days.” “Heh. Wish I could say the same. All mine were used up two months ago!” I tuned out their exchange. Seeing as Ponyville was in sight, I took the time to establish my agenda. Of the highest priority was finding my daughter, of course. If what Spitfire had told me was correct, then Lightning Bolt was not in Cloudsdale. I would need a higher caliber of authority to help me find her, someone I knew lived in the pastoral town. After that, there was figuring out what had happened to Equestria overnight and determining if this case was actually all in my head. Then there was therapy. Ponyville was a neat gathering of archaic houses and farms situated around a pristine river. Even this place was not spared from sanitization. If the new Cloudsdale had the image of a child’s coloring book, then Ponyville was the sugar–topped capital of Equestria’s great toy box. What an eyesore.