//------------------------------// // Judgement // Story: Ultimatum // by Starscribe //------------------------------// Twilight’s guest didn’t actually need to see the city. Twilight understood that, but her friends didn’t, so they proceeded with the tour as planned. Torres looked a little distant through most of it, but she put on an air of enthusiasm whenever any of the girls spoke with her, and that seemed to be enough. Their visit hadn’t been announced, so once they put some distance between them and the train station they were able to disappear into the city and experience it more. Twilight wasn’t so much recognized by many of the ponies as her wings were, making it impossible for the ambassador to get a completely authentic experience. They visited lots of popular tourist destinations, ate in a fancy restaurant, caught a play. The end of the night found them all sharing a rooftop balcony, watching the stars. Well, they watched. Torres seemed more concerned with her work, staring at her little square of metal and somehow willing words into existence upon it. If it was a spell, she radiated no magic while she did it, but that was so common a theme from the ambassador that Twilight had learned to ignore it. “Torres Dear, I’ve just realized something.” Rarity set down her glass, looking over at the earth pony. Whatever else the ambassador might be, she was polite enough to look away from her writing. Twilight wasn’t sure if she wanted that right now or not. Had Torres not come as an assessor of her whole planet, she might’ve enjoyed and respected the attitude. Yet did she want her work interrupted now? “Yes, Rarity?” “You’ve seen and asked all sorts of questions about Equestria, yet I feel so dreadfully ignorant about your home. I understand your visit was only meant to last a day: could you at least tell us about it before you go?” Torres grinned, setting down her pad. “I’ve got an hour before they take this body back. What would you like to know?” Rarity frowned at the odd remark, but didn’t waste a question on it. It wasn’t the first strange thing the mare had said today. “Well, dear... How does it compare? Is it the sort of place we would enjoy visiting? Given all you’ve seen of us today.” She shrugged one shoulder. “You might. I think you’d be a little overwhelmed, honestly.” All Twilight’s friends looked worn-out from the day. A few were better at handling the exhaustion than others. To her great surprise however it was Fluttershy who spoke up next. “Are they nice? Um... Your ponies, I mean.” “Not ponies.” Torres leaned back in her chair. “We’re called humans. Are we nice, well...” She seemed to think about that. “We try to be. But you’ve got to understand, life has been hard for humans for a very long time.” “How could it be hard?” Rainbow didn’t exactly sit so much as float nearby, watching the surrounding air with suspicious eyes. “Didn’t you come from space?” Torres nodded. “We’d be extinct now if we hadn’t.” Even Rainbow grew somber at that. Twilight frowned. “Why?” The ambassador no longer seemed distracted by her pad. “Are you certain you want to know the answer, Twilight Sparkle? You cannot unhear the answer once I give it.” She wished she hadn’t asked. She sat up, and intended to say that she didn’t want to, but she was too slow. “Ah’ reckon not knowing’ ain’t gonna make it less true.” Applejack rose to her hooves, shaking her head to banish a little of the tiredness. The others muttered agreement. “You have wars on your world, don’t you?” They all nodded again, though the answer was much less definite. Equestria had seen a few battles in their lifetimes, but no wars. Twilight knew, at least academically, that the rest of the world was less peaceful. “Imagine a war that never ended. Imagine—imagine instead of fighting another country, you were fighting a force, like... like the wind, or the sunrise.” “We’d stop it,” Rainbow interrupted. “If a wind tries to get out of scale, we’d wrangle it back where it should be and find out which factory got their production wrong.” “Celestia wouldn’t mess up with the sunrise,” Pinkie Pie added. “Otherwise, we’d be in the dark! Her sister wouldn’t let her forget. That’s what sisters are for!” Torres rolled her eyes. “Right. Bad metaphor. How about—you’ve got an ocean. Imagine a tsunami so huge it could wash away a city. Has that ever happened?” Twilight nodded. “Occasionally. It’s rarer in Equestria, since most tsunamis are weather-related, and we have teams to patrol the coast. But... It could happen.” “Well, there aren’t any teams that can stop this. It’s rising a red tide rising through space; and has been for tens of thousands of years. When it gets close to a planet, terrible things happen. When it gets there, everyone dies. Everyone.” She seemed to grow weaker, deflating into her chair. “What do you do when the tide rises? You move. That’s all we’ve been able to do. Try to slow it down... Protect developing worlds like yours... But nowhere can hold forever.” Twilight alone had the presence of mind to speak. “Is this ‘tide’ coming for Equestria?” Torres nodded. “That’s why our visit was so urgent. We have your genetic profile—we’ve been able to grow ‘ponies’ for a long time. But that’s not enough. We don’t want to save your fucking genetic material!” The pony rose to her hooves, shoving away from her chair. She was practically shouting now, though not at anypony in particular. She shouted at the night itself—the sky, anyway. “Great we came when we did. Your God damn ostrich ‘princesses’ were happy to sit back and let their planet burn.” She shoved past them all, to the edge of the roof. As she moved, it was almost as though an angry unicorn were moving from the group. Little objects—rocks, glasses, little plates of hors-d’oeuvres—went flying away from her in a uniform circle. Still Twilight felt no magic, even as she saw it before her eyes. The ‘earth pony’ stared down at the city. “Imperial navy has been around for almost ten thousand years, and do you know how many aliens we ever found? Fucking none!” Tears streamed from her eyes. “So many ruins, so many empty worlds!” She surged backwards, clutching at Twilight’s shoulder. Her grip was as strong as any earth pony’s. Well, no, there was more. There was something clutching at her mind as well, an alien presence more insistent than ever Queen Chrysalis or her changelings had been. Yet for all the strangeness of the intelligence, it didn’t seem to actually be trying to compel her to anything. “We’ve been alone for so long! No way in hell we’re going to lose the first friends we ever found!” She let go. Half a dozen little objects—stones and shot glasses and bottle caps—dropped to the ground. The pony, previously swollen with power, suddenly seemed very, very small. Her ears and tail drooped. “I’m—I should go. Thanks for everything, ponies.” “Wait—” Too slow. The pony faded, her body becoming transparent. Another few seconds, and her teleport completed, leaving only empty air. * * * Twilight Sparkle returned to Canterlot the next day, to deliver her report to Celestia. There was no sign of the aliens waiting there. Her princesses hadn’t been attacked, and neither (apparently) had any part of Equestria. Yet that did not settle Twilight’s conscience, or the growing uneasiness she couldn’t quite banish. “Is it true?” she asked Celestia, when she was done explaining the last details of the alien’s visit. “Is there really some kind of...” She struggled to find the right word. “War” certainly wasn't it. “Danger? Is there really danger to Equestria from out there, like the aliens said?” They were alone in one of Celestia's tower rooms, overlooking the castle grounds. There were no guards to overhear. Her friends had volunteered to come, but… Twilight had told them not to. Only she had been told about the secrets under Equestria. She didn't want to bring anypony if they might discourage Celestia from being honest. Celestia nodded. “The dangers are very real, but Equestria has triumphed over all of them.” Twilight couldn't meet her face. Instead she looked out the window, taking in the life below. Gardeners trimmed the castle lawns, birds sung, and further still thousands of ponies went about their lives. With such peace, it was hard to imagine anything else. “What do you mean?” Celestia chuckled. “How many monsters have you and your friends fought in the last five years?” She didn't wait for an answer. “More dangerous every year the Red Tide gets closer. They did not tell Luna and I very much about it, but they did say it would create monsters. Discord, for instance.” “But—” Twilight turned her back on the window, looking directly at Celestia. “But Discord reformed!” “He did, didn't he.” She shrugged a shoulder. “The Creators know much, Twilight. But as a little lavender unicorn once had to learn, just knowing things isn't enough. Ponies—and Creators too, I think—can easily see all they know and forget there is more that they don't. Yes, there are dangers. When they made us, the Creators said trillions had died in the Tide. Their way of fighting it must not be working. Luna and I decided to try—” A shadow filled the window. The whole mountain shook. Twilight moved to look, but Celestia didn’t. She just walked away from the window, towards a portrait on the far wall. The starship filled the sky, vaster than the mountain, vaster than all of Ponyville and Sweet Apple Acres and probably Manehattan as well. Most frightening about it was the distant way the ship looked, blurring into indistinct lines. If it was big enough to fill all the sky when it was far away, how much bigger would it be if it landed? The massive shape was longer than it was wide, elegant sloping metal broken by thousands of ridges, openings, lights, or other faintly moving apparatus. A hundred little glittering shapes buzzed around it like insects, little ships that defied the construction of the wisest griffon artisans. Openings along its bottom glowed a brilliant blue, and as they did the whole earth shook beneath her hooves. Ponies screamed in the city below, running in terror. Hooves trampled through the hallways of the castle beneath her, and guard pegasi scrambled in the air. It was greatly to their credit that they did anything at all. Twilight turned, her mane blurring around her briefly as her eyes widened in desperation. “Are they going to attack? Should I get the elements? I could probably be in Ponyville in—” “They won’t attack, my dear Twilight. Why would they need to? Once Luna and I are dead, it will be easy to replace us with new alicorns and win Equestria without a fight.” “What?” Hot tears burned Twilight’s cheeks, and she hurried up to Celestia, eyes wide with terror. “But our meeting went so well, Princess! Torres said she was sure we’d be able to convince their leaders. Why would they kill you now?” Celestia wrapped one wing around her, pulling her head to her chest. “Oh, my dear Twilight. Luna and I always knew it was hopeless. We hoped we’d have succeeded before they came—if we didn’t, we knew we would die. It’s alright. I’ve got a fantastic student to take over for me when I’m gone.” “We won’t let them!” Twilight pulled away, facing the window and lowering herself into a fighting crouch. “We fought Tirek! We reformed Discord! Together, we—” “It’s not that simple.” Celestia’s voice was loving, gently reproving. “There are mechanisms inside us, Twilight. Spells designed to prevent us from being corrupted as Discord once was. Once they’re triggered, we can do nothing to stop them. We’ll die.” She reached out with a wing, touching Twilight gently on the shoulder. “Please. Look at me.” She did. The strength fled her body at Celestia’s words, her ears flattening. The betrayal twisted like a knife within Twilight’s chest, yet she forced herself to look up. The one pony she thought she would never lose, the one friend whose rule was eternal and kindness had no bounds, was going to die before her eyes. “Okay.” Twilight hugged her, forgetting all her decorum, all her fear. She cried freely. Celestia did too. “Shouldn’t your sister be here?” She felt more than saw Celestia shake her head. Outside, bells rang in Canterlot’s streets, as constable ponies tried to restore order. Soldiers shouted outside, searching in vain for the princesses. This once Celestia did not identify herself, and apparently Luna didn’t either. There was no point when doing so would only let your subjects see you die. “No.” Celestia’s voice was quiet. “We made our peace last night, during your time with the assessor. We’ve had each other for years—we agreed that we should spend our final moments with the ponies who will need to be strongest for Equestria once we’re gone.” She reached out, and Twilight felt her mentor’s magic gently caress her cheek, wiping the tears away. “Don’t cry too much for me, Twilight. I had a very long life. Thanks to you, I can die with fewer regrets.” Twilight couldn’t bring herself to reply. They stayed like that a long time. Twilight feared what was to come. Would she watch Celestia die in agony, or would she just vanish? What would Equestria be like without its rulers? Who would move the sun? Could Cadence do it, without the more senior princesses? She had no mind for rational considerations, not with so much emotion flooding her. It was all she could do to wait. Minutes passed. The rumbling from outside faded, though the flurry of activity only grew more intense. Ponies shouted orders, the castle prepared itself for a siege. Celestia didn’t melt, or catch fire, or burn away. She didn’t stop breathing, or have some kind of heart attack. It was the most painful moment of Twilight’s life, and she couldn’t have said how long it took. Eventually though, the moment ended. Ended with a rumbling voice, echoing across the sky. The voice didn’t seem to have a specific source; it echoed from every flat surface, every glass, every pool of water. “PONIES OF EQUESTRIA, WE COME IN PEACE!” Twilight forced herself away from Celestia, towards the window. The massive metal hulk was still there in the sky, terrifying in its scope. Even as she watched, a sparkle of golden light separated from the cloud, flying straight towards Canterlot. A roar like a sonic rainboom shook the sky as it moved, traveling on towards Canterlot with unfathomable speed. After only a few moments in the air it began to slow, and Twilight could get a good look. It was easily the size of a large building, glittering golden metal in a style far more formal and impressive than all the little ships in the sky. It had many windows like stained glass. It froze completely in the air above the castle, then started to descend. It landed in the streets just outside the grounds, in the area normally occupied by the carriages of ponies who came to visit the princesses. The ground shook a little as it touched down, its vertical shape somehow holding steady without legs or other supports. Celestia approached the window beside her, watching with shock. “Why—why haven’t—” Someone spoke beside them. Twilight knew the voice, though she could scarcely imagine how it might be here now. It was Torres. “Captain Layton is waiting for you in the lander, Princess. I suggest you get your sister and the most important ponies you can and meet them. They’ll wait for you—make it properly dramatic that way.” Twilight turned. As she had expected, it was the pony body the ambassador had used the day before, not her human form. “Why?” Celestia spoke beside her, somewhere between shock and relief. “Equestria deserves better than to watch their rulers die before them. Luna and I will not cooperate in that.” Torres withdrew a little, wilting. “Nothing like that, Princess Celestia.” “That’s my name.” The alicorn’s expression wavered a little, but her tone didn’t soften. “What happened to using my fleet serial?” Torres swallowed, then straightened. “The Imperial Fleet thanks you for your many years of meritorious service. They sent me ahead to communicate their regret that your services as contractors are no longer required.” Twilight nearly screamed as the pony reached to her side, at a satchel hanging from one shoulder. She didn’t react fast enough to stop her, though. Torres tossed a glittering medal at Celestia’s hooves. It wasn’t large, not compared to some of Celestia’s jewelry, showing what looked like a miniature silhouette of the ship outside and some tiny text in the alien language. “Since you’re dismissed, it seemed right to use your proper name. The captain would probably see it differently. But I’m an engineer, not an officer.” She tossed another, slightly darker medal to the ground. “That one’s for your sister. You… probably shouldn’t show anyone.” Twilight had to admit—seeing Celestia shocked and amazed for once made the stress of the last hour almost worth it. Almost. Torres continued. “We thought you would probably prefer your history with the fleet not widely known. The decision is yours, but we guessed it would increase the hostility Equestria faces from other nations. They’ll be harder to uplift if they’re angry and suspicious.” Celestia was still too shocked to reply. Twilight wasn’t. “We changed their minds?” “It’s complicated and political and unfortunately I don’t think you’d understand…” The “pony” shrugged. “Celestia and her sister did good work, in some ways. The danger isn’t here yet, and… they obviously protected your planet from its growing influence in this space. It wasn’t as though we needed the extra troops. Heck, ponies could all be a hundred times smarter than we are and we’d have been fine without you.” Twilight balked. “But, if you didn’t need us to help you fight, or to help you think of how not to, why even come?” Torres smiled, walking past the two of them and looking out the window herself. She seemed to have regained her composure, because she didn’t seem afraid of Celestia anymore. Twilight followed, watching out the window. A crowd of hundreds of ponies was gathering around the alien ship. Guards stopped ponies from getting too close, but they didn’t have much work to do. The ponies weren’t all that unruly, just curious. Awed, maybe. She figured that was an appropriate reaction under the circumstances. “We didn’t come to Equestria because we needed you. We came because we wanted a friend.” She turned, lowering her head respectfully to Celestia. “The admiralty board agreed. Maybe you failed at your original mission, but… maybe your original mission wasn’t terribly inspired to begin with.” Celestia had recovered by then, at least enough to speak. She still sounded a little awed herself. “So what happens now? What will you do?” Torres gestured out the window. “Your world must change. The board decided that change could come through contact.” Her eyes narrowed. “It was wrong of you to lie. Wrong not to give your people a choice. Don’t take this as the board condoning your actions.” She gestured at Twilight. “How many people like this have been wasted on old age because you kept your people away from modern medicine? How much hope could your species have brought to our tired galaxy two centuries ago when the Homeworld fell?” Torres shivered, but didn’t elaborate on that subject. “We do not pretend to understand what you’ve done here, or to agree with much of it. Yet the board decided it was wrong to judge you. Your own people will do that—a few hundred years from now, when they know what you’ve done.” A little of the anger returned to Celestia’s words, though not nearly so much as before. “Our little ponies would never kill us as you threatened to do. They’re too good to earn performance by threatening with murder.” “Neither will we.” Torres reached into the saddlebags one last time, drawing out a lump of metal almost too heavy for her to hold in her mouth. Instead of throwing it, she set it down on a nearby table. It was a device of some kind, though Twilight’s eyes had no context to understand it. A flat metal base with a transparent dome, within which a speck of something floated and glowed. There were controls on the base, though the buttons were too small for pony hooves. “This is the failsafe, the one your creators told you about when you were assigned. As your service has ended, your compulsion ends as well.” “If that is so, what is to prevent us from burning that ship of yours from our skies?” Twilight recognized the voice at once, as much from the fierce pride there as familiarity with the tone. Princess Luna watched from the doorway, though she had eyes only for the device. It looked like a bunch of nonsense to Twilight, but from hers and Celestia’s expressions, it was sacred treasure. Torres did not attempt to take the device back. Instead she stepped away, retreating from it. “Nothing! Or… nothing now. I’m just an engineer, so don’t take military advice from me. Still, I... I wouldn’t suggest a war. The admiralty thought your planet conquered, Princess, not disobedient. We came expecting to fight a war of liberation on your behalf.” She smiled sadly. “After what I saw yesterday I would really rather be friends. Please don’t force us not to be.” The princesses shared a look. Twilight couldn’t read Celestia’s expression, despite her several years of knowing her. The alicorns’ expressions were complex, as they glanced from Torres to the window and back to Twilight. Some kind of understanding passed between them. Eventually, Celestia straightened. “Come, Twilight. I believe we have aliens outside our gates. We ought to go and meet them.”