//------------------------------// // “When in doubt, throw stuff at the future and see what sticks.” // Story: Stopped Clock // by Carabas //------------------------------// Spike felt the universe go thwp as he rummaged around for pen and paper. It was the sort of sensation he associated with magic briefly discombobulating reality to the point where the universe had to stop and readjust its approach. This being Equestria, such sensations were a dime a dozen, and he shrugged it off. “I hope you appreciate that. Bah,” he continued with nary a hitch. One probing claw found a quill pen, and he smoothly dipped it into an inkwell on the same shelf as his other claw alighted on a dusty sheet of paper. He turned to face Twilight, still speaking. “One of these days, I’ll just rush off and do my own exciting stuff. With blackjack! And hookahs! Though I don’t actually smoke, so I might not bother with the latter. Why’s everypony so keen on adding some dumb waterpipes to anything, anyway?” Twilight, her eyes bright and her expression abruptly and oddly more cheerful, let out a breezy giggle and said, “That’s a ‘why’ to be answered when you’re older, Spike.” Behind her, Rainbow Dash tried and failed to suppress a snigger, Fluttershy blushed, and Rarity coughed and shuffled. Twilight ignored their reactions, instead suddenly appearing thoughtful. “Actually, I’ve had second thoughts about the letter.” “About the letter? Why’s that, Twi?” Applejack tilted her head, a motion Spike mirrored himself. If anything deserved an intervention the size and shape of Celestia, surely time-travelling assassins would? “I’m thinking … I’m thinking we hold off on alerting Celestia, for now. I mean, she’s surely got a lot on her plate, what with the parasprite infestation across northern Neighvada and the Pachydermian trade disputes and that sort of thing.” Her voice was measured and thoughtful, as if gearing up for that lecturey mode Spike did his best to avoid. The suspicion that he’d have to take notes on all this entered his mind, and he quickly put the pen and paper away. “Darling, are you sure that’s wise?” said Rarity. “We’ve just been attacked by these Time Police. I’m sure that’s a problem it’s only wise to consult her for.” “If they really are Time Police. Look, I know it’s scary and unexpected. I know that more than anypony, I’ve got all the memories revealed to me. But … maybe you’re right. Maybe they really are just elaborate pranksters, and we’ll soon get to the bottom of it all.” “I … well, that was more a statement of confidence in yourself, Twilight, than an actual possibility I considered realistic. But -” Twilight pressed on. “Thinking about it, it has to be something closer to home. I’ve just resolved to not be a tyrant, haven’t I? Since that’s the case, then there surely wouldn’t be Time Police coming back in the first place. And if they were genuine, they’d hardly set the situation up where I’d decide to change the future course of time, accidentally or otherwise, so as to make them never come back at all. That’s some exciting flavour of paradox, all in itself.” “I ...” Rarity’s eyes crossed slightly in the ensuing attempt at comprehension. Spike sympathised as his own brain frothed. “Er, do hold on, Twilight, I’m trying to sort out the logic of that in my head.” “I get it!” said Rainbow Dash with a grin. “If they were real Time Police and did all that, they’d just paradox themselves into next Tuesday. Or some part of the future. Or … uh … what does happen if you paradox yourself? Does time get all tangled up, or does the Creator come down to have an angry word with you, or -?” “I’d have to look it up,” said Twilight. “I’ll look it up while we have that sleepover. After a night’s rest, I’m sure we’ll all have clearer heads.” “Sound thinkin’, that alicorn,” said Applejack, nodding. “Ain’t nothing lost by walkin’ away from something and returnin’ with a sound mind.” “And we’ll stay on guard!” said Pinkie Pie, whose sudden acquisition of a helmet and prop crossbow Spike wasn’t about to question. “You’ll have nothing to worry about, Twilight. We’ll make any Time Police that try to wipe your memories away have to do so o’er a breach filled with our equine dead!” “Wha -” started Fluttershy. “Our equine dead, Fluttershy.” Another helmet, filled to the brim with marshmallows, was conjured and abruptly pressed into Spike’s claws. He stared, shrugged, and popped one into his mouth. “You sure about this, Twilight?” said Spike, as the others moved off to busy themselves around the library. The unicorn smoothly turned to face him, her motions surprisingly quick and graceful. The same dexterity that informed Twilight’s dancing usually manifested to some small degree in most of her motions. Something seemed off. He would have blamed nerves for Twilight’s oddness, except that Twilight’s reactions to stress usually consisted of desperation, anger, and only occasionally mass-brainwashing. Instead of those, however, Twilight sported a gentle smile. “Don’t worry, Spike,” she said, reaching to draw him into a light hug. “Whatever this all is, I’ll get it all sorted out. I promise.” And because, if nothing else, Twilight had a good track record on that sort of thing (with capable and handsome draconic assistance, of course), Spike chose to believe her. That night as Spike slept, his belly full of amethysts roasted between layers of marshmallow and cracker, he tossed and turned, his dreams full of little but fleeting flashes from the day’s events. The sensation of biting on an assassin’s leg came back to him, and as his body pitched, something like the tread of hooves of floorboards intruded on his unconscious mind. Then there was a flash of blue in his dream, and Spike slept through the rest of the night as soundly as a log. The morning upon awakening, after a quick communal breakfast of whatever Spike had found and prepared in the kitchen cupboards, he and Twilight saw the others off at the door. “Thank you for coming to the sleepover, girls,” said Twilight. “We haven’t had one in a while. I thought it would be nice to catch up.” “T’weren’t nothing, Twi. Stay inside now, but if you’re free later, you’d be welcome to mosey by the farm once the weather’s cleared up.” Applejack frowned out at the steadily falling snow, and at the darkening sky. “Rainbow Dash, don’t suppose you know -” “Couldn’t say for sure; I’m off this week. But last I saw, the schedule was all blizzards. Snow’s gotta go somewhere,” Rainbow replied with a shrug. She looked out towards the ground, and looked briefly quizzical. “Huh. The ground outside the library looks disturbed - as if foals have been making snow pegasi. They must have been super-stealthy about it if I didn’t hear ‘em. And why’s there coloured bits?” “Coloured - ? Hey, that looks like my confetti!” Pinkie Pie hopped out to critically regard the few pieces of paper poking out above the snow. “Silly confetti. Escaping from me again?” Spike looked up towards Twilight, and saw her frown, as if regarding a problem. Even odds she’d be spending the rest of the day on the Mysterious Travelling Confetti Case. Her frown slipped away, though, and she shrugged and smiled. “Must be picking up your mysterious ways, Pinkie Pie. Stay safe, everypony.” They moved out and away into the snowfall, Spike waving at their backs until Twilight gently closed the door. “No sense letting any snow in,” she said. “We’ve got enough to clean up here already.” “- Markedly reducing the bureaucratic costs of maintaining a court system. Reason eight hundred and forty-two for pursuing your glorious future! We shall do away with antiquated and grotesquely inefficient ways of administering to the dead, such as cemeteries, crematoriums, or sky burial. In addition to previously-discussed initiatives such as the Soylent project and the industrial glue facilities -” “Shut up,” said Twilight, her tone dull and hoarse, as the projector screen flickered to show a cross-section of a smiling cartoon pony, down through the muscle and bone. This was surely just some egoscopic projection of herself, so how could it get tired? How could she be getting tired? “- Vellum is an admirable complement to existing forms of parchment, and its use saved costs for our own bureaucracy - as well as minorly contributing towards our balance of trade.” The helpful image that showed then, demonstrating the vellum creation process, was one that couldn’t actually raise Twilight’s egoscopic projection’s gorge, but which really, really made her want it to. “Shut up,” she whispered. Maybe the ongoing list of atrocities was a factor in the tiredness. Maybe. After the first few horrible moments, Twilight had spent a leisurely however-long running through any method she could think of to get loose. Absent access to magic, her viable options weren’t many. Teleporting was out. Becoming temporarily ethereal was out. Sending distress flares to the effect of ‘HELP I’M STUCK IN HERE BREAK ME OUT’ through her eyeballs was out. But even though magic was beyond her and that being a sufficient source of hopelessness in and of itself, she’d thought she had other options. What would a brave pony like Rainbow Dash do? The projector had proven resilient to pummeling, even prolonged over what she guessed to be half-an-hour. As had screaming and pounding the glass-like surface itself whenever Spike or one of the others had drifted near. Now Twilight lay huddled in a dark corner, and pleaded with her brain to answer when called. “Reason eight hundred and forty-three for pursuing your glorious future! Slavery is a term with many undeservedly negative connotations attached to it over the years by ponies who simply didn’t sit down and examine its utility in certain -” “Shut up, shut up, shut up, not a single thing you - I - you have said is anything even approximately -” Twilight trembled where she lay. This couldn’t be hopeless. It couldn’t be. She wasn’t going to cry, she told herself. Not yet. Not yet. “I need some idea, some detail, some … something useful!” “Why, dear Twilight, I can do useful,” interjected a new and familiar voice. “Circumstance-dependent, of course. And for varying definitions of ‘useful’.” Twilight slowly dared to look up, her own dreadful voice briefly becoming mere background noise. Out from the projector, out from a pie-chart helpfully detailing the optimal distribution across industries of a chattel slave force, a familiar horned figure wound. Discord emerged into the darkness of the room and glanced around, his expression betraying curiosity as he studied the projector. Another head sprouted from his shoulders to look quizzically at Twilight. “D - Discord?” Twilight rose unsteadily, hope swelling inside her like an airship, all but enough to lift her off her hooves. Her mouth opened and closed before she dared to speak. “I’m not going to lie; you are a very, very welcome sight right now.” “I’d like to think I’m that all the time, being the dashing entity that I am,” said the draconequus, his two heads schlurping back into one. He glanced around and prodded the projector with a clawtip. “You wouldn’t believe how many confused pony minds I had to wander through before finding the source of all the chaos. What are you doing in your own mind to produce that sort of effect? I’m more confused than usual.” Twilight sighed and gathered breath. “An evil version of myself from the future has imprisoned and is attempting to brainwash me in order to stop me from trying to stop her from existing and foiling all her evil plans in aforementioned future.” Discord regarded her. “When I say it out loud -” said Twilight hesitantly. “Well, of course when ponies spell their problems out loud, it’s going to sound obvious,” said Discord irritably, throwing his forelimbs up in the air and catching them as they descended. “Do make allowances, I’m still trying to get in touch with this whole ‘pony nature’ business. Friendship is involved; that’s as far as I’ve gotten.” He paused. “So what’s the actual problem here?” “The pro …? Discord, what part about an evil me isn’t a problem?” “Remembering what are and aren’t appropriate times for afternoon tea with Fluttershy is enough of a trial as it is. Excuse me if I need this ‘good’ and ‘evil’ thing explained for me in smaller words.” Twilight opened her mouth, closed her mouth, and then gesticulated towards the projector. “L … listen!” Discord crooked a brow and leaned closer to it. “Reason eight hundred and forty-five for pursuing your glorious future! In addition to being an excellent source of protein, orphanages are also an excellent recruiting ground for brain-washed soldiers! So long as they’re recruited early on, of course. Doing so will entail at least a twenty percent rise in -” “You see?” Twilight gesticulated with as many hooves as would let her keep balance. “Wrong, of course,” said Discord contemplatively, as he leaned away from the projector. “The amount of protein you can extract from the average orphan just isn’t worth all the hassle. Though I suppose if you’re just using existing orphans rather than specially cultivating them -” “I … wha … how do you know … wha … no!” “It’s okay, it’s okay,” said Discord quickly, waving his claws to settle her. “I only borrowed their protein when finding that out; I gave it all back. Eventually. That’s a good thing to do? As I understand the term.” Twilight very badly wanted to go somewhere by herself and scream for a while. Or explode something. Maybe both at once. Instead, she forced herself to breath slowly and steadily. In and out, Twilight, came the soothing voice of Cadance from memory. Breath out the stress. No need for anything to go on fire. Yet. “Discord, you need to let me out. Please,” she said, her tone calm and carefully measured. “I’d be very grateful. And you’d be helping Equestria a lot. I can’t emphasise that last part enough. Millions of ponies and other creatures would owe you their lives and happiness.” The draconequus looked dubious. Twilight heaved the latest in a series of that day’s groans. “And you’d get to tear the best-laid plans of the future to shreds.” “Now that’s a goal I can understand,” said Discord, beaming. “You just want me to break you out of here, then?” “Yes. Can you?” “Hmm.” Discord frowned at the projector for a long moment, and let an elongated tongue roll out of his mouth to carefully lick it, leaving an ultraviolet smudge on the current displayed cross-section of a soul-powered golem. He drew it back it, swished thoughtfully, and then said dubiously, “Tricky.” Twilight winced. “Tricky?” “Tricky and tricksome. I muddle minds, certainly. Unmuddling is a different beast.” Discord gave the projector a hard flick; static buzzed briefly across it before the image re-clarified. He turned back to Twilight and shrugged. “The enchantment on this is potent, besides. I mean, I could try warping you yourself, whatever’s conscious and talking to me -” Twilight gathered breath for a No! loud enough to express her opinion of that plan, to be cut off as Discord pressed on. “- But that wouldn’t solve the problem I think you want solved. I think. Shall I go get some outside help, instead? And throw a little spoke or two through the plans of the future while I’m at it?” “Yes! Please,” said Twilight. “Get Princess Celestia, tell her what’s going on. She’ll know how to solve this - hey!” Discord reached out suddenly to snap his claw just to one side of her snout, with the sensation of a static jolt across her teeth and a brief burst of white noise. She stumbled back, raising one warding hoof against the little white orb that now hovered a inch from her mouth. “What the hay is that?” “A way of keeping in touch. Do give a running flattering commentary on my technique. It’s the least a fair damsel can do for her knight in patchwork armour.” Discord winked and began to grow ethereal around the edges. “Watch with awe, princess!” “Watch wi - technique? Discord, what are you planning? Discord? Discord!” But the draconequus had already all but faded away, leaving only his disembodied grin in mid-air. After a few moments, the grin wavered, looked sheepish, and flitted out of existence. Twilight mutely turned to the windows that were her eyes. “I hate today,” she said with feeling. “I hate today, I hate today, oh stars above, I hate today. What is he planning?” “Wonderful things, dearest Twilight!” crackled Discord’s voice from the orb. “I promise you, you’ll love it.” “Love it? What even is it? Discord?!” Twilight cried at the orb, which thereafter remained silent despite the torrent of increasingly desperate and unkind invective Twilight poured upon it for the next moments. When her breath failed her (did an egoscopic projection even need to breathe, or was force of habit keeping her doing so?) she subsided and tried to take stock. The initial onslaught of Time Police and assassins had been a frying pan in its own right. Her older self’s appearance and means of problem-solving were the subsequent fire. With any luck, Discord represented a friendly-ish set of tongs, rather than a dropped barrel of black powder. She caught a motion outside one of the eye-windows in the corner of her vision and, in dire want of a distraction, looked towards it. Outside, her physical self seemed to be reading a book by the upstairs window, white snowfall framing the book’s dark binding and old cream-coloured pages. Would her physical self even be reading the book, or would it simply be looking? If you were implanting some sort of psychomantic puppeteering, you wouldn’t necessarily need any magical construct capable of thinking for itself. You’d just need something that could blindly and automatically go through the motions, produce the right noises, and respond to stimuli convincingly enough to persuade onlookers that nothing was amiss. Horrendously complicated, no doubt, but if you were as potent as a dark magic-empowered, Alicorn Amulet-wielding alicorn, and had all the available magical lore in the world at your hooves, and had a potential model of yourself to extract from your own memories … it could almost be foal’s play. And it was undoubtedly intriguing, and wouldn’t necessarily have to - “... we shall reimpose the Pax Equestria. This will be due to there being only Equestria after the previously described series of targeted solar flares -” interjected her older self’s voice, breaking Twilight from her train of thought. Right. No. Bad Twilight, she told herself. No finding your evil self’s work intriguing. No evil trajectory. She could surely avoid that whole future if she just kept those thoughts at bay, and if Discord broke her free from here. However he planned on doing that. “Hot chocolate, Twilight?” As if from a great distance, there came the voice of Spike, and her body’s field of vision rotated to see the little drake offering her a gently steaming mug. A pang that had shot through Twilight’s heart at the sound of his voice redoubled once she saw his face, innocent and smiling and utterly unsuspecting. “Thank you, Spike,” her own voice replied, all-surrounding and distant at once. Purple magic enveloped and lifted the mug up for a sip, giving Twilight a brief view of the contents. “Did you finish cleaning the dishes?” “So clean you could eat your dinner off them,” he replied proudly. “Made a start on reorganising the library as well, using that … Daisy Decimal system, right? Complicated as heck. Heck is complicated.” “It’ll be a good system to introduce, Spike, especially if we ever have the library expanded,” her body replied. “If we start organising the books by related topics rather than just an alphabetical circuit, it could really improve -” Please notice something, Spike, Twilight silently pleaded, as the words broke around her like distant thunder. Something had to be off, surely. The puppeteering force couldn’t be doing a perfect job. He knew her best, he had to notice something. Had he noticed something wrong and was making an effort to not let on? She studied him as her body spoke. ...his face shouldn’t usually be glazed over like that when she was talking, should it? “- and if it brings us into accord with the other libraries in Canterlot and Manehattan, that means that cross-library orders can be made much simpler for -” “That … that’s great, Twilight. I get it. Not confusing at all. Honest. So, uh, it shouldn’t take me too long to finish. Anything needing done after?” “I’ll help. It’ll take even less time, then. After that, we can wrap up and trot over to Sweet Apple Acres. Chat with Applejack, and drop off her and the rest of the Apple’s Hearthswarming cards.” Another sip from the hot chocolate. “I doubt it’ll be one of those especially exciting days, Spike.” And as if on cue, that was when the explosions and screaming commenced. Light pealed and flashed outside the window, and a shockwave seemed to tremble right through the library and even wobble Twilight in her own mind. The world pitched wildly outside as her body trembled. The mug of hot chocolate tipped over, and even with every other new and old awfulness grabbing for her attention, Twilight still cursed with horrified fury as the contents sloshed over the pages of the book before her. To her older self’s credit, her body did the same. “That was a first-edition Damsire collectio -! What was that?” Her body steadied, and looked out through the window, towards the tower at the top of the town hall. A snow-shrouded silhouette clambered up it, hulking and huge and seemingly lit up by golden fire. “I’m getting the others! Stay here and watch the library, Spike!” “What? But I -” “Stay here!” “Discord,” Twilight growled at the orb, as her body teleported from building to building, coming upon and spiriting away her similarly startled friends. “What are you doing?” The orb flared to life, and a little ethereal claw swirled out of it to boop Twilight’s snout. “Tsk tsk. I’m not one to spoil surprises.” Twilight waved away the claw and ground her teeth. “Explain how exactly this is intended to go about freeing me, or I swear to the Creator I’ll -” With a sudden thwp all about her, her body teleported herself and all five of her friends into the snow-packed streets around the town hall. Flakes of snow drifted up from the ground, each flashing different colours and reforming into musical notes to harmonise with the screams coming from the ponies fleeing in all directions. The sky pulsed with yellow polka-dots, and the air gyred and gimbled serenely to itself. At the hall’s summit, the hulking figure of Discord rose, packed over with slabs of furry muscle and blistered over with gratuitous antlers and horns. He waggled a great clawed fist at the polka-dotted sky, red eyes blazing like twin beacons. “TREMBLE AND OBEY IN THE CHAOS CAPITAL OF THE WORLD, FEEBLE PONY FOLK! BOW BEFORE MY EVERY FLEETING WHIM! FORGET WHAT YOU EVER KNEW OF ORDER! IN THIS NEW WORLD, THERE IS ONLY DISCORD! UP THE DECIBELS ON THAT SCREAMING, PONIES, COME ON!” “What,” said Twilight, her voice as cold and flat as a glacier. “RIGHT HERE! CHAOS CAPITAL! BEHOLD MY SUDDEN BUT INEVITABLE BETRAYAL! ARE YOU ALL PROPERLY INTIMIDATED YE - oh, there you all are. Hello!” The beams that blazed forth from his eyes turned in the direction of the group. “You are surely pullin’ my tail,” murmured Applejack, to the right in Twilight’s field of vision, as she stared up at Discord. “No, no, no,” came the soft voice of Fluttershy. “What are you doing, Discord?” “I’m apparently becoming a complete, undiluted, chaos-based menace once again, for deep and subtle reasons beyond your immediate ken. Look, I can make things explode!” He pointed at a drifting and entirely blameless cloud, which immediately found itself blasted out of existence. “And that thing there!” A streetcart full of cabbages met oblivion via fire. “And that bird!” Multi-coloured light flashed and feathers flew. “Discord!” shrieked Fluttershy. “It’s alright, Fluttershy,” the draconequus said hastily. His claw snapped, and a small cloud of particles flew over from where the bird had been flying and swirled in his palm. “Look, I’ve got its molecules. I can reform it. See? Good as new.” The reformed bird tottered awkwardly on his palm, chirped, and then fell over. “Getting the cerebellum right is always a bit of a skitter, though,” muttered Discord, scratching his head as he regarded the bird. “How do you fleshy things cope with all that complicated anatomy?” “Enough of this!” yelled Twilight. “Enough of this!” yelled Twilight’s body. “Do you think we’ll hesitate to seal you away again if we have to?” “Do I think? Why, certainly. There’s a certain degree of method to my madness, if that means anything to you and certain other skeptical parties for whose benefit this all is. In the meantime, you know that big mountain range running up the middle of Ungula? The Greycairns?” “What about them?” snapped Twilight’s body. Discord snapped his claw. The world went thwp. “Correction. You knew the Greycairns.” “What in the hay did you just do?” said Rainbow Dash. “Re-distributed some of the geopolitical landscape. Capra had an unfair share of mountains anyway, and the Diamond Dogs were getting bored of all those cosy underholds. How about another trick? A nice, straight-forward diplomatic incident?” “I regret every single decision I’ve ever made,” said Twilight softly. “Especially this one.” “When in doubt, throw stuff at the future and see what sticks,” said the orb cheerfully. “That should hinder your older self.” “You don’t need to go this far! And how will this break me out?” “You’ll have to speak up, Twilight. All I caught there was ‘You need to go this far’ and ‘Break me out!’ Hold your horses!” The orb dimmed once again, and Twilight uttered every Equuish profanity in a sudden release of breath. “For my next trick - where you will behold nothing up my sleeve,” Discord continued outside, “Prince Blueblood! Give him a rousing hoof-stamp, everypony!” “What the actual deuce?” screamed Blueblood, who manifested in Discord’s spread claw with a single flourish. His mane and coat were wet and covered in soap-suds, and he flicked his golden tail around to cover himself. “What’s going on? Where is this? Who and what are you? “And in his possession - the Crown Jewels of Bovaland!” Discord tweaked Blueblood’s ear and, with a surprised squawk from the prince, withdrew a heavily jewelled crown, several torcs, ornamental barding, and a monde. All were abruptly shoved into Blueblood’s hooves, and he all but toppled off Discord’s claw. Discord sneezed, and Blueblood vanished with the crown jewels as abruptly as he’d appeared. “Wha … what was the point of - no, you know what? I don’t even wanna know.” Applejack glowered up at Discord. “You stop actin’ like a lunatic, or you’ll be beggin’ for a sharp dose of the Elements!” “Point? Mostly for fun. And for unspecified though undoubtedly fun consequences. And to get attention.” Discord smiled blithely. “What Elements, by the way? You returned them to the Tree of Harmony.” His expression suddenly sharpened. “Oh my. You did indeed return them. What’s a poor draconequus to do?” “Creator’s mother!” shrieked Twilight. “No! Don’t even consider it. We have a deal, Discord! You said you were going to let me out!” “A time limit wasn’t specified,” grumbled the orb. “What’s a little new reign of chaos between friends?” “Do you think Fluttershy would want that?” “Flutters would ....” The orb trailed off. “Oh. I see. Fight dirty, do we?” “Yes. You wouldn’t?” The orb didn’t deign to respond. Outside, her body and her friends looked up at the unmoving Discord. “We don’t need the Elements,” said Rainbow Dash, stepping forwards. “We’ve still got other ways of knocking you down to size.” “Name one,” said Discord absently. Rainbow Dash waggled her right forehoof as she limbered up her wings. “I call this one ‘Concussy’.” In the sky, unacknowledged by anypony save Twilight, gold and blue and pink light pulsed out from different directions. Twilight held her breath. “That’s nice,” said Discord. He snapped his claw. “Concussy is now a shark.” “Wha - ? Aargh! Get off!” Rainbow Dash flapped backwards and flailed as the small shark suddenly sprouting from her forelimb snapped affectionately up at her face. Applejack immediately wheeled to try and land a kick on the shark, and succeeded in landing one on the pegasus, who tumbled backwards into Pinkie Pie. Twilight’s body sprung up into the air to avoid the developing scrum, while Rarity yelped and then leapt in to assist. Fluttershy looked from her friends to Discord, her eyes pleading. “Please!” she called. “Discord, you were doing so well. You don’t have to do this.” Discord winced, and held one claw over his improbably muscular chest. “Dearest Fluttershy, please let me assure you I do have something like an ulterior motive behind all -” White-hot lines of fire stitched through the air, and with a thunderclap, Discord was all but sent whirling off the hall’s summit, holding on by only one claw. Past him, the shape of a white alicorn came swerving back around for another strike. Discord flailed up with his other claw at Celestia, a motion which the princess casually avoided as she flew. The next moment, with a flash of uncannily-glowing unlight and a sound that was just the complete cessation of noise, Luna smashed right into his exposed torso. Discord toppled backwards, his grip lost altogether, and after a moment of ponderous falling, landed with an almighty crash in the snow. He flailed on his back like a turtle, and was altogether helpless to stop Cadance crashing upon him like a pink hammer-blow. The shockwave briefly blotted out sight, and Twilight was left blinking for a few minutes. When her vision finally cleared, she saw Discord lying deflated down to his original size. Three alicorns stood poised above him, wings spread and horns blazing with pent-up magic. Twilight’s vision was obscured slightly as Cadance came to stand between her body and Discord. “Oh, woe is me, I have been undone and now see the error of my ways and all that,” croaked Discord. He rose his claws and waved them placatingly. “Truly, I shall be a better draconequus from now -” “Silence,” snapped Luna. “Restore the Greycairns, or see weeds watered with thine blood.” “Luna, at ease,” said Celestia. Her words soothed, her tone was controlled and cold. “This old battle again? Foolish, Discord. Do you think the Elements are beyond my ability to retrieve if need presses?” “No. You’ve got something like a few tricks to pull in that area, I respect that much.” Discord sprung up into the air, as if he’d never been struck at all. “I suppose it would just have to come down to whoever could stop the other faster. How are your reflexes these days?” “Speed would be so easily made a non-factor,” said Celestia, a hint of weariness showing past her chilly exterior. “I’m disappointed. I’d been told such promising things regarding your redemption.” “Oh, that’s still on-track,” said Discord casually. “This was more deliberate attention-getting than an actual return to form.” “Attention-getting,” repeated Celestia. “You’ve succeeded there, I’ll grant you that. To what end?” Discord yawned, poked at a tooth, and then said, “You might care to take a look inside your most faithful student’s head. She’s got something she’d like to tell you. And something she’d like you to break.” All eyes turned towards Twilight’s body, while Twilight herself heaved a sigh of pure relief. Her body hesitated, and then stammered out, “I … I have no idea what he’s talking about, princesses. He’s clearly gone mad. Madder.” “A ploy,” Luna murmured. “He seeks to divert our attention. Retrieve the Elements from a suitably unattended time and cut our losses here.” “I suspect otherwise,” replied Celestia gently. “But even if that’s the case, taking the Elements from a point in the past and returning them promptly would be a one-alicorn job. My job, anyway. We can hedge our bets. And you are the better psychomancer.” Luna’s frown held for a moment, and fell away when she shrugged. “True enough.” Her posture straightened, and she looked towards Twilight’s body. “Twilight Sparkle, do you consent to the examination of your mind so that we may investigate Discord’s claims?” Her body opened her mouth. Her body closed her mouth. Magic fizzed reflexively around her horn, and Twilight saw the projector screen inside her mind dim somewhat. Then, like lightning from a clear sky, magic erupted from the tip of Twilight’s horn, more than she should be reasonably able to draw upon even as an alicorn, magic that had an unhealthy tinge to it even as it spilled light down over her eyes. It came out as a blue-and-violet flash, the mark of the memory-wiping charm, spiralling right towards the nearest Princess. Twilight’s body was turning even before the spell landed, rotating smoothly to fire off another spell. The sheer blazing intensity of it forced Twilight to turn away from her own eyes, shielding her vision from the pandemonium beyond. There was the sound of a scuffle and a bodily impact, Discord crying ‘Oof!’ and then the unmistakeable shiver of powerful magic taking hold. Wings flapped and familiar pony voices cried. There was the crash of impact as something hit her body, which even Twilight’s egoscopic projection could feel. She dared to look up, and where the world wasn’t seared with the aftereffect of magic, it was a steady pink. “Easy, Twilight!” cried Cadance. “You’re going to be okay! Luna, now!” “I have my doubts,” muttered Twilight. There came another crash from outside, and Twilight saw it came from her own body slamming into the snow. Cadance held her struggling body pinned, and something else pressed down on her horn and disrupted the energies there - she could see the frustrated sparks of it leaping down across her body’s vision. Dark blue light inveigled itself into the chamber of her mind then, and Twilight turned to see its source. A shimmering indigo cloud resolved itself into the shape of an alicorn, an outline of Princess Luna in which stars glittered. The princess stopped, looked at Twilight, and then turned to regard the projector at one side. “Princess Twilight?” said Luna, her voice gratifyingly immediate. “What has assailed you?” “A ...” Twilight hunted for a way to explain it that wouldn’t invite all manner of follow-up questions to the effect of ‘What?’ or ‘Do you need to take your medication?’ or ‘Die, future-tyrant!’ “A powerful magic-user has sealed my consciousness away behind a psychomantic construct that’s designed to both act like me and try and break my will. They - she’s exceedingly powerful and clever, and she may have used dark magic.” Luna nodded and stared thoughtfully at the projector. “Reason eight-hundred and fifty-six for pursuing your glorious future!” helpfully chirped Twilight’s own voice. “The assumption of Luna’s magic will provide excellent scope for dreamwalking and establishing a more-or-less stable reign of terror. Undeclared rebel leaders can be subjected to unrelenting nightmares even in the waking day, and thus rendered unable to -” Luna turned to look flatly at Twilight. “Ah,” said Twilight. “Ah. Um. There is an exceedingly reasonable account behind that statement and the others like it being produced. I don’t, um ...” “I suspect ‘reason’ wants nothing to do with this whole mess,” replied Luna. She met Twilight’s gaze, and her expression was gentle. “Regardless, I shall see you safely out of here, Twilight Sparkle. Accounts can come later. Just let me examine the construct, that I may dismantle it appropriately and safely.” Luna turned back towards the projector, her tongue protruding slightly from her mouth with concentration, while Twilight heaved a sigh and looked back towards the outside. Her body still appeared to be pinned and struggling on the ground, while a rapid-fire conversation went on overhead between Celestia, Cadance, and her friends. Variations on ‘What the hay was that?’ and ‘I don’t know’ seemed to be common refrains. Luna’s body was still, her eyes closed as if she was sleeping while standing. Discord stood at one side, blinking and smiling amiably at anything and everything nearby. “Pardon me,” she heard him say, “The last thing I remember is a flash of blue light. Do any of you happen to know who I am?” The situation was settled, just about. Twilight dared to let herself relax. Just by a fraction. And then there was an eruption of white light from just behind Celestia and the others, light that cleared to reveal the shapes of a squadron of ponies in barding. “TIME POLICE! STOP IN THE NAME OF AN ORDERLY CONTINUUM AND WE WILL USE LETHAL FO - for - uh. Force?” Twilight stared out at the squad of Time Police, who in turn found themselves looking at Twilight pinned beneath an alicorn princess, another alicorn princess sleeping at one side, another alicorn princess turning to loom over them, a befuddled draconequus, and the Element Bearers, one of whom had a shark for a leg. “Oh, Tartarus,” said Lieutenant Bramble, in the instant before magic and chaos started happening everywhere, to everypony, with no particular discrimination. “How’s everypony faring out there? I hear a ruckus,” said Luna, as she prodded the projector with a hoof. “Everypony’s fighting a squad of ponies from the future, who apparently keep time going the way they think it ought to go.” Twilight paused, and her voice fell. “The … the way they need it to go, if they want to keep existing.” Luna paused before answering. “Hmm. Yes, I shall be keen beyond measure for this account, I think.” She considered the projector for a moment longer, before blue magic flared to life around her horn and her hoof. “This should do the trick.” “What should?” said Twilight. By way of response, Luna swung her hoof forward into the projector, the crash of it sending splintered glass and randomly-sparking trails of green-and-violet magic everywhere. Twilight leapt back with a surprised yelp as more sparks and magic flew out from the machinery, indigo lines of static now crackling across her vision and making her stumble. “Brace yourself, Twilight Sparkle!” Luna’s voice came, as if from a great distance, as the static spread to swallow Twilight’s whole vision. “Reality shall be upon you!” Twilight tried to respond, found her mouth gone, found herself spiralling down … away? … elsewhere, all inchoate and disintegrating around her. Reality hit her. It hurt. Twilight coughed feebly, the pain of her abused magic hitting her as a thunderous headache. She lay inches-deep in cold snow, and trying to so much as shift her legs sent waves of fatigue shuddering through her. A weight rested atop her and pressed down on her horn, warm and gentle for all that it was firm and unmoving. From somewhere before her, dark legs moved, and there was the sound of wings triumphantly spreading. “Huzzah!” came the voice of Luna. “We solved the problem!” A moment’s silence followed before Celestia’s voice broke it. “She doesn’t appear especially solved … Twilight? Are you alright?” “I … ” Twilight coughed, and she felt the weight atop her relax and the pressure lift from her horn. “I’m alright. No longer psychomanced. Ow. Yes. Alright.” A nuzzle came down against her own then, softly brushing across it. “You’ll be alright, Twilight,” said Cadance. “We’ll make sure of it.” “Are those my feet?” said Discord, to one side. “No!” came another voice, from somewhere in front of Twilight. “No, no, no, no, no!” Twilight blearily lifted her head to find the source of it. Past them, where the white aftereffect of the Time Police’s retreat hung in the air. Underneath, a pegasus mare desperately scrabbled through the snow for pieces of a shattered metal leg band. “No! Please, no! I can’t be stranded!” “Stranded from what, exactly?” Celestia spoke, and the pegasus leapt up as if electrified. She stared wide-eyed at Celestia, and her mouth opened and closed mutely. Celestia pressed on. “I do not recognise your devices, and you and your fellows came to one of my towns armed and armoured for battle. I will know who you are and who you represent.” “I … Constable-in-Training Jiffy, of Equestria’s Time Police, serial number one-naught-seven-seven-four. I, I have a badge.” Jiffy’s face crumpled. “Please don’t hurt me, ma’am! I … I have a gran, she needs me for -” “Nopony is going to harm you, Constable Jiffy. But you are going to tell me everything I need to know about this situation and your involvement.” “I can help with that as well, Princess” said Twilight. Her friends had gathered around her, and helped her back to her hooves as she spoke. “I can help a lot more than Jiffy, I think. One important thing, though. You can cast time magic?” Celestia crooked a brow. “When the need is at hand. Why?” “Can you … is there any spell you can cast that can stop ponies travelling back to our time? I’m being attacked by - well, I’ll explain it all shortly, but essentially ponies from in the future. They either want to kill me or keep me on a bad course and ...” A yawn threatened. “I need a breathing space. Please.” Celestia’s soft smile broke like the dawn, and her horn began to flare with golden light. “I can promise nothing indefinite. But I can let you at least breath, Twilight. Breath - and if I may ask it of you, even speak.” Twilight felt the motion of magic more powerful than most anything she’d felt before tremble through the earth, through her, sending the world all-a-thwp, and all she felt was fatigue. Applejack and Rarity on either side were all that kept her standing.“I think I need some tea as well. Very, very badly,” she croaked as the world reeled around her. “Do you know you’ve got a shark on your leg?” Discord said brightly to Rainbow Dash. In a far-distant office in a far-distant time, Twilight Sparkle sat in the shadows of her office and watched a little pony puppet on her desk, jerking and alive with an internal green light, fall as if its strings had been cut. She sent out a probe of magic, found it inert, found the connection through time severed. At one second, a dial denoting Fray chimed as it ticked upwards. Her teeth ground, and she called that same magic back. Streams of magically-produced numbers and letters uncoiled from banks of dials and gears at the back of the desk, readouts for the relevant squadron. She clocked their immediate deployment with satisfaction. Their return the instant later, with one less member than they’d gone in with, failed to inspire the same satisfaction. The Fray dial chimed. Why couldn’t ponies just do what was required? Why did she have to solve everything herself? Twilight summoned a drop of her magic once more, the method for chronomancy now as easy to her as breathing. She clocked the time and position from the readout, plugged them into the co-ordinates the magic required, and prepared to plunge back into the past. The Alicorn Amulet purred on her chest and the beguiling shadow that now permeated her magic seemed to simmer with want of release. Soon, she promised it. She plunged back in time, and was almost immediately knocked back where she came from, dazed and blinking. A simple wall of pure golden force had flown up in her path, a familiar sort of magic. Magic whose bearer she’d once sent down in flames, who was now a drooling pet in Canterlot Palace. She could conquer that. Given time. But time was running out as the damned Fray dial chimed, and her younger self would be preparing. “Fine,” muttered Twilight as she rose from her desk. “I can do harsh measures. I’m very, very good at harsh measures. I’ve never fought a war across time, but I fancy I’m still a fast learner.” The speaking tube for Bramble’s department thumped, and she ignored it. He’d get his orders along with everyone else, and hopefully lead himself and his incompetent squad to a neat and unobtrusive end in whatever followed. Her magic reached into the depths of her own throat, linking it up to every speaking tube in the headquarters and attached barracks, and coughed once, making the tubes thumped. A moment passed, in which she felt every squad leader and commander in the force rush to pick up the tubes. They all knew better than to keep her waiting. She began to speak, and as she did so, almost unconsciously shifted into the form of Tenebris - a tall and gaunt grey-coated unicorn mare, with a sea-coloured mane and eyes as dark and pitiless as the night sky. “All of you will mobilise your squads and take them to the Crisis Chamber. It falls upon us to conduct a full-scale incursion.” Voices chirruped in her ear. Some of them had the gall to query. She cut them short. “All of you!”