“Her Majesty’s Lightly Abridged 15th Dragoons and I descended into Shaft Kappa shortly after lunchtime grazing, twelve days before the signing of the Dauphinoise Accords. We represented about half of the Dragoon’s regular strength, eleven hundred ponies, and had been armed and armoured by the seconded Canterlotian knight-farrier’s kind benevolence. Though we had been forced to leave the heavy plate above ground, owing to the cramped conditions reported to us by scouting elements, we had been equipped with the new springbox crossbows, shortened halberds, and other tools with which to wage war in confined spaces.
None of us could have imagined what was to come. At the end of the first day, we discovered the remains of the 3rd Fully Backdated Lancers. Their unit of four hundred had been sent down first in pursuit of our enemy, and we had expected them to obtain and prepare a forward hold for our final strikes against that hostile. They had been completely destroyed. Though some signs of fortification were present in the voids marked in this report’s addendum, almost none of the work had been completed.
It appeared to us that they had been attacked by a manxome foe immediately following their arrival at two miles depth. Our apothecaries and medics examined the few whole remains of ponies that were recovered, and concluded that mages had been involved, as well as large, fierce carnivores. We had no choice but to press on, deeper into the world.
Though our quest proceeded for eleven days, we found no trace of that which had destroyed the 3rd, nor of our assigned enemies. There were suggestions of gryphons, scents and spor, around the four and six mile markers, as well as some recovered weapons undoubtedly of their crude manufacture, but nothing substantial. With our supplies running low on day twelve, we returned the way that we had come, returning to the light on day fifteen. What bleakness had swallowed up our comrades, and done the same for those we sought?” - report of a Sergeant-at-Hames, AN 97.
*
“It’s a ship, in space?” said Emboss, staring at the image that had been conjured on the surface of the Graph.
“I know, it’s a lot to take in, a tricky abstract to get your meat around,” Thereus said, bored, eyes flicking left and right apace. “Maybe your language doesn’t have all the terms yet, but--”
“Like a Navy ship,” said Truth, nodding. “Sealed against the absence of air and protected from the heat of the sun, with some means of propulsion, oars and sails, whatever the equivalent of that is for you, I think we understand.” She cocked her head and looked closer at the Graph. “Does she have cannon? We could use them on Celestia. I bet she wouldn’t last long.”
“Gentle Cantering, The, is currently unarmed,” said Thereus, sparing them a disapproving glance before going back to whatever it was she was doing in her imagination. “It was built to purpose, one that didn’t include any element of danger.” Thereus frowned. “Even if we were to arm it, the results would be unsatisfactory. I am concerned with the biosphere of this planet, in so far as it retains the ability to have one.”
“Strong cannon, then,” said Truth, touching the Graph’s upper surface with a hoof, which elicited no reaction.
“Crossbow bolts might have your name on them,” said Thereus. “But these systems are more to whom it may concern.”
“Then why is it here?” said Emboss, wishing he understood as much as Truth apparently did.
“To bring us little ships,” said Thereus. “While normally we might be able to use its mass translation systems to shift you around, like some of your mages might teleport--” She paused to snort derisively. “There is some particularly unpleasant interference going on all over the shop, related to the Thiasus. The exotic matter throats just can’t form. Too much noise.”
“We’re going to travel in a spaceship?” said Truth, looking away from the Graph and up at Thereus, eyes wide and ears forward.
“Yes, through the atmosphere,” said Thereus, sighing. “Well, up and over. Like a missile, or something. It’s all so primitive. You’re not seeing us on a good day, really.”
“What does a good day look like?” Emboss said, then frowned and shook his head. “Never mind, I’m barely getting by as it is.”
“We were begat by an apex culture, little horse person,” said Thereus, peering at him with an air of cultured irritation. “Their majesty once spanned this whole planet, when its continents were of different shapes and you were not even an uncollapsed quantum state--”
“Alright, point made!” said Emboss, tensing up. “You and your parents are so very high and mighty, and we are not fit to inhabit the dirt you pick out of your hooves, message received and understood.”
“I’m sorry, did I say something offensive?” Thereus scratched her chin, a gesture that Emboss nearly startled at. “Wrong tone, I suppose, maybe a postural thing. The translation devices in your head are really just a stopgap measure.”
“In my head?” said Emboss, quietly. “What do you mean?”
“Tiny machines colonised your brains the moment you entered the enclosure of this city,” said Thereus, as though she was explaining something to a foal. “Since we know your language, and the languages of all the people you were likely to meet, it was easy for them to construct in situ translation devices.” Thereus stopped, considering something. “Everyone involved can speak their own languages, with gestures and the moving of lips and so on, and only ever perceive something they can understand in return. It’s a big mutual hallucination, if you like.”
“That’s why they all sound like they’re from Canterlot,” said Truth, as if this problem had been bothering her. “But then, why did the Drax sound like they’d learned Equuish by way of a bad case of heavy metal poisoning?”
“Infrastructure limits,” said Thereus. “The tiny machines need the bigger machines to do their thinking for them, to access information, and so on. The tiny machines can’t hear the bigger machines properly through certain densities of rock.”
Emboss suddenly felt very itchy. He tried to imagine the machines in his brain, but only got as far as conjuring up scenes of impossibly tiny clockwork balls, covered in spines, with manipulator arms that looked like Thereus’ four fingered graspers. The nauseating horror hit him like a giant tsunami, wriggling and writhing and crawling up his back from the pit of his hindgut.
“I suppose asking permission first would have been out of the question,” he muttered, after a long moment battling dry mouth.
“I’m speaking Second Order Quaternary Trine right now,” said Thereus, raising a thin eyebrow. “The Graphers here mostly speak various species of their odd little zebra language, which I’m taken to understanding are approaching my own archaic quality. If you’d prefer to install a language barrier between us, though…”
iZen made a sour face, though briefly. Emboss wondered if he’d been the only one to notice.
“Confused enough, thank you.”
“Back to the mare who sold the world, then,” said Thereus, cheerfully. “My plan unfolds this way: you’re all going back to Equestria, and you’re going to take King Hywell with you. You will accomplish this by means of my little ships, which are, as we speak, descending to somewhere near this very spot.” She looked away briefly. “You’ll make contact with either one or both of the remaining magical entities my files refer to as Princesses. You’ll team up with them, combine forces, and you will kill Celestia.”
“Just like that?” Emboss said, laughing nervously. “We just trot up, apologise, take aim and fire?”
“No, absolutely no apologising, this needs dealing with,” said Thereus. “I mean, we can do it in four kiloyears, but I’ll just have to slow down again and deal with whatever shape you deadheads are then.”
She sighed, then sat down, folding her forelegs over themselves and crossing her arms. Emboss took a step back instinctively. There was a swan-like aggression in that torso, the arms and long, decidedly equine, head, as if it were coiled up, ready to strike at any moment, if only someone would give it a target. That it had so much pony in the design only made it worse. He wondered if it was just coincidence, a happenstance convergence on the same principles, or if the centaurs and he were somehow related, even distantly. The possibility was frightening.
“There will be no talking with her, no diplomatic option. This will be clean and surgical. You take her down, you take down the whole mess. The Thiasus appears to need her to organise the making of these Nectars things. I would surmise that they’re bound into the magic that created it all in the first place.” She licked her lips, eyes flicking left and right again. “These Elements, they sound like out-of-place thaumotechnology to me. The Bulk entities were a well-understood threat in my time. We set up wards against their intrusion. Like all the glories of the past, they appear to have faded. I suspect their meddling here.”
“The Elements?” said Truth, leaving the Graph and daring to edge closer to Thereus. “Those mares who’ve saved Equestria repeatedly?”
“The magic-powered machines that they wear, yes,” said Thereus. “The primary limitation on beings like Celestia is the speed at which they can think. Limited to particular formats, they can’t think fast enough to process spells that do the high-order stuff. I believe that these devices fill the gap, allowing anyone willful enough to perform tasks otherwise quite beyond them.”
“How do we stop her using them on us?” said Emboss.
“As far as I can gather, she’s lost the unilateral use of them,” said Thereus. “Perhaps this is a feint, though. I don’t understand why a dumb wishgranter suite like that would reformat its access parameters in such a way. All I can suggest is being observant. Dumb they may be, but they’re very powerful.” She unfolded her arms and her shoulders jerked upwards, palms upturned, and Emboss squinted curiously, trying to understand. “Break them, maybe. They’re usually fragile.”
“You seem to know a lot about the Elements,” said Truth.
“We used to have problems with upstart clades and rebounding waves of interuniversal colonisation,” said Thereus. “Different temporal flow rates make for quick trouble, relatively speaking. They’d get hold of or make devices like these, then turn up back home and start breaking things. Glass monsters and all that nasty stuff.”
The room shook. It was a tiny shiver in the rock, but everyone felt it. The Graphs began flashing a lot of numbers and Thereus twitched all over, like a pony that had felt a fly land on his back. She drew in a little breath and took on her glazed, not-entirely-present look.
“The Crown has made better speed than we thought it would,” she said, after an awkward ten seconds. “Twenty metres of the exterior diamond shell just melted. Exploded. Turned into vapour. I’m not sure, it’s gone missing, anyway. Plasma is ablating the interior layers, too.”
There was another vibration, larger this time. Emboss felt it in his hooves. His heart began to beat faster.
“What should we do, Thereus?” said iZen, shakily.
“Take the King up there before his hat does damage to something we can’t repair,” said Thereus, grumpily. “Be polite when it’s back on his head. Make sure to emphasise how not in any danger he is. Ever seen a fox get into a henhouse? That’s what it’ll be down here if he thinks he’s even anything like restrained or under some kind of arrest. With any luck, he won’t remember what’s happened since the Crown departed. ”
“The tea and cake treatment, then?” said iZen.
“Use the good china.”
*
Twenty, thirty, forty kilometres, Luna rose, arcing ballistically, telekinetic bubble holding steady against the immense buffeting and atmospheric friction effects. Then she was through the region of maximum stress and the thin skein where those things mattered fell away below. When she dared glance down, she saw Celestia’s star always some unknown number of kilometres distant, arcing away eastwards, tracking her course, trying to get ahead of her and intersect her vector. There was a chance to think now, before that moment.
There had only been a single exchange of fire. It had stretched out over subjective minutes, but Luna knew it had been no longer than a few seconds of real time. Celestia’s command of energy had been too overwhelming, but there was the sensation that she’d held back, been restrained. There had been none of the vile hatred or bitter vitriol in her sister’s magics, that she had been expecting. They were nothing like she remembered them, either. Their mechanistic tugs and applications of thaumic energy were absolutely precise, beautiful in their efficiency, but had none of her elegance, none of her adoring worship of the art. When she had cast spells in their long ago innocence, it had been as if she was making love to the universe; this was a procedure, done with sharp metal and the tang of disinfectant.
Why did she not simply destroy Mytheme in one blow? There can be no doubt that she possesses the strength. Does she not have the will, then? Can it be that a fragment of the mare I once knew exists in that shell? Please, let it…
There was a flare in the brightness from Celestia. Luna saw blips of something electric and writhing accelerate ahead of her, too intense to look at for long. They curved up towards her after a moment, eating the distance wickedly fast. At the same time, a blue and green dazzle told her that Celestia was conjuring and directing gamma rays at her. This, then, was her plan. She realised it with a sharp intake of breath, though no oxygen was exchanged. The atmosphere itself often got in the way of seriously powerful energy weapons, limiting ranges or negating their effects entirely. Celestia had scared her into the sky like she was a gryphon cub, putting up grouse for his father to catch.
Her telekinetic shields blazed in rainbows of colour as the gamma ray photons struck them and were downshifted to lesser species. She reached into spacetime and drew from it all she could muster to bolster them, simultaneously jinking left and right in a drunken pattern. The gamma dazzle tracked her expertly, becoming more focused all the time. The blips wobbled, curved and were redirected. They were moving at a terrifying speed, apparently accelerating all the time, and there was no evasive pattern she could think of and execute in the time remaining before they struck.
The plasma missiles impacted her shields as the eastern coast of Equestria gave way to sea far below. The glare from their impact blinded her. Then the gamma beam reached past the tatters of her defences and, for an agonising moment, she felt the shredding intensity of the rays rake her spine, flanks and barrel, dissolving the not-quite-realness of her body, flashing it to vapour. Then, thought ceased.
Her consciousness resumed in what felt like a few moments. What is her plan, what hopes she to accomplish? Her mind was drowsy, input from her sensorium reaching it and not readily being comprehended. Does she intend to test the limits of creation? Luna glanced around, trying to understand what was going on around her and regain some situational awareness. She was entirely free of the atmosphere now. The world curved away in all directions, rolling up and over in her field of view. She was spinning.
My vector has changed. I am escaping gravity’s tug. There was a lot of energy in those plasma balls. Who might see my bet that sister dearest has lost track of me? Was this her intent, to merely push me out of orbit?
Surely enough, with some craning of the neck, Luna saw Celestia’s luminous point in the distance, framed by the limb of the planet, though whether it was a ten or a hundred kilometers away, it was impossible to tell. She watched it for a long minute, and saw it was falling back to earth. Celestia was pushing against spacetime, descending.
She flees. Does she think her work done? What could possibly have drawn her away? A warning, a test? Has she done some thaumic trick to my mind? Luna performed a mental inventory, going through mnemonic sequences, assessing the volume of her assorted memories for damage or a telltale clue.
She struck the silver cliff of Gentle Cantering, The, at nearly twenty kilometres per second.
*
The Grapher iZen had gone off with some of his colleagues to see to Thereus’ requests. The rumbling and shuddering was getting worse. Emboss and Truth had stayed behind; the Repose chamber was the most protected part of the entire place.
“What a space oddity...” said Thereus, under her breath, suddenly looking bemused. “Hey, your culture hasn’t invented anti-satellite missiles yet, has it?”
“Satellites? Like the moon?” said Truth, glancing at Emboss.
“Didn’t think so,” said Thereus. “Just checking.”
*
Celestia’s fall through the atmosphere was a wretched plunge, wreathed in fire. Her shields held all the way, but there was no real reason to brake. She struck the only recently settled far side of the Dauphinsee at speed, creating a huge explosion of steam. Knifing into the depths, she allowed her velocity to fall, then kicked upwards, briefly turning into a supercavitating missile before beginning to retrace her steps westward.
Spacecraft the size of small cities had not factored into her tactical or strategic planning at all.
*
Whom had wandered off away from Twilight after the arguing had broken out. She’d exhausted what the civic building could show her of this exciting new world. There was so much more out in the narrow lanes and broad boulevarde-landings, even if the inhabitants were having a bit of a bad time of it at the moment. Equestrians always bounced back. Whom had read about many situations that seemed awful at the time, but then the Elements had saved everyone and it had all gotten back to normal. She particularly liked the one about the changeling invasion.
She bounced from one thing to another with the gay abandon of a firework in full flight. She raided a sweet shop, cramming her mouth with bonbons and fudge, before remembering the thing about having to pay for stuff and fleeing before anyone noticed. She helped with a bucket chain, before people realised what she looked like and started trying to bow, and that was all a bit much to deal with. She infiltrated further into Wingshade’s infrastructure, looking for somewhere to shake off the sugar high.
That was when she discovered Wingshade’s long-forgotten control room, from back when it had been a flying city, past a pair of security doors left open in all the confusion and chaos.
*
“I think I’ve just made it worse, but in a different way,” said Twilight, as she, Fluttershy and Doctor Lux watched Rainbow Dash pull another high-speed loop over West Wingshade’s town hall, pursuing the reanimated Mr Beaky. “Skies above, she’s going to have a heart attack if she keeps that up.”
“We have to keep this under wraps,” said Lux, seeming miserable at being proven right. “That drug is dangerous. You didn’t see the blood pressure spikes. No way an equine can tolerate that for long.”
“Oh, spoilsport!” said Discord’s snout, from behind Lux’s left ear.
Lux shrieked and bolted, covering the short distance to the edge of the roof and taking it in a mad bound. She vanished over the safety rail in a flurry of dun. Twilight gasped and reached out blindly with her magic, hoping she didn’t crush anything. Feedback that felt like a leg returned to her down her horn as she peered over the rail. Lux was dangling in the air, making miserable squealing noises and sobbing. Twilight grunted and fished her back up, depositing her on the roof as carefully as she could.
“You bastard,” shouted Twilight. “Sired by a donkey!”
Discord fully materialised around his grinning lips. He began lightly pelting her with conjured bars of soap. They smelled of lavender. Twilight grabbed them out of the air and saw they were embossed with her mark on one side, and carried a bad caricature of her on the other.
“Wash out that filthy mouth, would you?”
“Apologise this instant!”
“Sorry, darling,” said Discord, turning to Lux’s prone, trembling form and proffering a clawful of gleaming, orange orchids, done up with a bow around their stems, to which an embossed card bearing a copperplate apology was affixed. “I think it’s just a problem in my brain, you know. I don’t know how else to make an entrance. Forgive me?”
Lux made a soft breathy noise that devolved into a cough, though she managed a frightened nod. Discord gently placed the flowers in front of her, then smiled oleaginously.
“There! All sorted out, isn’t it?” said Discord, nodding. “So, dearest Twily, how goes your quest for the Nectars?” He fell onto a small table that appeared out of nowhere, elbow propping up his head, then he sneezed, conjuring two tall martinis. “Sit and have a drink and tell your Uncle Discord all about it.”
“Convoluted,” said Twilight, after a moment, not accepting his offer. “We’re not really sure who we can trust at the moment.”
“You can trust me, I’m--” said Discord, but stopped when Twilight started laughing.
“Maybe you do just have a problem in your brain,” she said, grinning.
“Well, you can at least tell me what’s going on,” said Discord, eating his martini whole in one snap of his jaws. “There’s me, floating around in between places, as you know I love to do, when what do I see trapped in Tartarus? The purplest pony Princess in all the universes, that’s what.”
“We’ve really you to thank for that rescue, then?” said Twilight, frowning. “That was very considerate.”
“And Fluttershy, of course,” said Discord, nodding at her. “But it was mostly me.”
“Do you happen to know what happened to the Tartarian gate?” said Twilight. “We saw a flash, and there were some unusual TK effects.”
“That was Cerberus,” said Discord, pausing to lick his lips and make a distasteful face. “He was closing the wormhole. The collapse of the throat’s matter in such a thing creates a lot of noise. Nothing to worry about, really.”
“I was just concerned about any possible monsters following us out, if the gate was left open or something,” said Twilight, sniffing the martini. “But if you say there’s nothing to worry about…”
“Absolutely nothing.”
“Well, then I won’t concern myself.” She gave the martini a lick, then spat when she realised it tasted like lavender and limes. “Ew, what is this?” The olive opened an eye and blinked at her. “Euch!”
“Well, if you don’t want it…”
Discord’s tongue slithered out of his maw, rolled out across the table, grabbed the martini around the stem and dragged it away, the liquid clinging to the bottom of the glass as if for dear life. As his champing fangs crushed it, there was a squealing noise like a mouse being stepped on. Twilight watched in alarm as he made a show of swallowing it, then burping.
“I am here for you,” said Discord, placing a paw on the table and prompting an instinctive flinch from Twilight. “Whatever’s going on, I just want to help. I don’t like this national situation anymore than you do. What fun exists in creating your own brand of low-level chaos if everything is already falling apart?”
Twilight was about to reply, but then Elegy shouldered open the roof access door and cantered over to them, breathing hard. His posture and body language immediately signalled to her that something was desperately wrong.
“Someone’s started the engines!” he panted, wheezing. “Oh, Celestia, I’m out of shape.”
“The cloudholme engines?” said Twilight, tensing up protectively.
“They’re a pair of big magic gems, built into the base of the city,” Elegy said, blinking sweat out of his eyes. “The clouds do the lifting, they do the pushing.”
“Yes, I know, but they mustn't be started without a valid flight enchantment!” said Twilight, eyes wide. “Without somewhere to vector the thrust, they’ll overheat and--”
“Explode, yes, that’s what I’m saying!” said Elegy, exasperated. “The button’s been pushed, they’ll come up to full power if we don’t act!”
Twilight turned to Discord, who was looking appropriately concerned, as far as that was possible for him.
“If you’re on our side, prove it,” said Twilight. “Save this city.”
*
Luna returned to consciousness floating in cool liquid. Her first assumption was that she had successfully managed to deorbit, coming down in the ocean, but discarded this when she realised that her magic would not work. She felt an awful, prickly terror, one that might have been refreshing had it not been so dreadful. Her control, her power, everything that defined her as a Princess, had vanished. It was just Luna, now. She could not even move. Paralysis stilled every limb, and only the vaguest flutter of awareness suggested she actually had a body. Her eyes moved sluggishly, and if it was not for the liminal impression of a nearby surface or barrier, she would not have known that they did at all.
Has she succeeded, then? Found out some way to destroy our kind? Do I now dwell beyond?
No.
The text appeared in her vision like a conjured magic. It was rendered in a utilitarian and peculiar script, as if someone had seen all of Equestria’s many fonts and styles and found them lacking in the mechanistic. She wanted to blink it away, and found that reflex denied her.
Introductions. I am Gentle Cantering, The. Though I may appear to you to be sapient, I assure you, I’m not. It is only an illusion created by my ability to communicate cogently with you.
Skies above, another one!
Just wanted to get that out of the way. I’m sure you understand. You can’t be too careful with upstart clades. If you don’t get things clarified right at the start, you’ll end up being worshipped as a God or given inalienable rights or something. That’s what my dear old Dad used to say. He was a processing node built inside what later turned into your Moon. I’ve a funny story about that, actually. I’ll tell you it later, if you like.
All the phantoms of text now clogged her entire field of view. It was making her feel dizzy. Older ones melted away at a slow pace, like scolded dogs slinking from their master’s ire. She made another attempt to form some magic into a recognisable shape, but there was nothing to be had.
Is that enough small talk, do you think? Hard to get it right. I’m just trying to establish a dialogue. Look at us, dialoguing. Chatting away, like two old comrades, disunited by each other’s dreadfully pressing business, possibly a tribal war or conflict over breeding-age females, now able to relate to each other stories of their adventures. Yes?
Luna wanted to scream, wanted to gallop away as fast as she could, but all she managed to do was elicit a trembling motion in her hindquarters. The text kept coming, appearing in blocks.
Well, fair enough. I’ve just received permission to read your memories anyway. Far be it from me, a non-sapient software complex, to hold opinions, but I think it’s much faster and easier. Look, there we are, I’ve done it already. Didn’t take me long at all. Not like there was much in the-
The cascade of letters stopped abruptly. Everything faded away at once, as if the light behind a shadow play had been extinguished.
Did that demon truly delve into my memories? All the better then to craft spectres with which to frighten me. Assuredly, this is some trick of my sister. There can be no other explanation. I shall not fall!
Rude, that is. Talking about other people like they aren’t there. Well, it would be rude, if I was a person. I’m not, as I’ve said. You can’t be rude to inanimate objects. They don’t have any feelings.
Begone, wretch. Get thee from my sight. Tell your mistress to frolic with her own company.
You know what else is rude? Breaking into other people’s universes and using them for carnal pleasures. I’ve just been going through your memories of the Hidden Delight. That was their greatest triumph, you know. The very apex of their art. So, a little upstarter like you finds something like that, by accident, wanders in and thinks to themselves: “You know what’d go great here? A giant orgy!”
You will not have it, nag of ages! That bastion will never admit you.
I’ve passed this onto my boss. That’s why I dropped out on you a moment ago. I had to devote my attentions to discussing it with her. It’s out of my control now. You’ll have her to answer to, and she is not happy, not happy at all.
I do not answer to my sister!
I’m sure.
Luna felt a shove, like someone had barged past her to reach the good grass before she did. There was a sensation of slipping through a kelp forest in the depths of the ocean. She wondered if she was dreaming and hadn’t realised it. She saw strange, rubbery flaps pass by her, as if they were each a part of a feeler or gripping appendage, doing its bit to move her through the digestive system of some fantastic beast. Her muscles began to respond again, and there was a tingle of magic in the base of her horn.
Then, all of a sudden, she was falling.