//------------------------------//
// On Your Marks 
// Story: A Dream 
// by totallynotabrony 
//------------------------------//

	Pinkie sat alone in the darkness.  She swirled a glass, ice cubes clinking.  Her face wore a contemplative look.  It seemed that she was waiting on something.
“I was waiting on a natural pause in the narration like that to begin speaking.”  She paused to take a sip.  “I didn’t want to interrupt the cold open with a fourth wall break until the scene was set.  Anyway, we need to have a little talk.”
One wondered what about.
“You see, there’s been kind of a disappointing trend going on lately.  All of us here are complete personalities, but we get treated like that isn’t important.  Sometimes whole scenes and speeches are just glossed over.”
What did she propose?
“Just pay a little more attention.  Characters should be allowed to shine and do things for themselves, letting their uniqueness show.  Heck, only certain headcannons of me could even be here having this conversation.”  Pinkie grinned.  “And if it’s not too much to ask, in the future maybe give me more HLS with Fluttershy.”
No promises.
Pinkie shrugged and finished her drink.  She got up and walked away, fading into the darkness.
“That’s about enough meta for one day,” totallynotabrony muttered.
You got that right.
Elsewhere, specifically the clubhouse located in the orchard at Sweet Apple Acres, a meeting was coming to order.
“Hear ye, hear ye!” Apple Bloom called.  “The first post cutie mark meetin' of the Cutie Mark Crusaders is now in session!”
“Oh!  I’m sorry, Apple Bloom,” said Sweetie Belle.  “I was distracted by the radiance of my cutie mark.  Did you say something?”
“I mean, it’s pretty amazing how the colors just pop off your flank. It’s kinda hard to look away,” said Scootaloo.
“Why are they looking at their butts?” Cordoba stage-whispered to Twilight.  The two of them were outsiders in the room.  Twilight’s efforts to teach Cordoba about friendship had led her to bring Cordoba together with friends of her peer group.
Twilight interrupted the Crusaders.  “Girls, now that you have your cutie marks, you can spend your time doing what you like.  Your special talent should be something you’re good at.”
“That makes sense,” said Scootaloo.  She frowned.  “What was it again?”
“I don’t know either,” said Apple Bloom.  “Now that we don't have to do stuff to get our cutie marks, what is it that the Cutie Mark Crusaders actually do?”
“Our cutie marks look like little shields,” observed Sweetie.  “What was it you were saying back when we first got them, something about being guardians?”
“Guardians of Harmony, yeah,” replied Apple Bloom.  “But don’t the Elements of Harmony kind of already have that covered?”
“Well, you got your cutie marks for discovering your special talents,” put in Twilight.
The Crusaders stared at their marks.  “Um, what was that again?” Scootaloo repeated.
“Even if you have no idea what your talent is, you should at least know what you like,” said Cordoba.
“Well, what’s your cutie mark mean?” Apple Bloom asked.
Cordoba nodded to the gold medallion on her hip.  “It means simply that I am Chrysler Cordoba.  That’s how I interpret it, and that’s enough meaning for me.”
“So we can interpret it however we want…” began Sweetie.
“So we do exactly what we got our cutie marks in!” proclaimed Apple Bloom.  “Helping other ponies!
“Ponies without cutie marks!” added Scootaloo.
“Or ponies who’ve forgotten their special purpose!” followed up Sweetie Belle.
Apple Bloom nodded.  “Exactly!  We just have to find ponies who need our help!”
Twilight saw a crusade coming and hastily intervened.  “Now that you know what you’re doing, why not try splitting up to cover more ground?”
“Divide and conquer,” observed Cordoba.  “Not that I ever needed any help.”
Twilight gave her a look.  “I’m really trying to teach you to be a good pony and tone down the senseless destruction.”
“It is not senseless.  I told you, I always have a reason.”
“’Getting in your way’ is not a good excuse for murder,” said Twilight.  “Friendship is about accepting others.”
Cordoba opened her mouth to refute, but Twilight added, “And not just for your friends.  Other ponies, even if you don’t know them, deserve some measure of consideration.  The least you could do is have a sense of proportionality.”
“I struggle with that,” Cordoba said.  Between her accent and attitude, Twilight found it hard to tell whether she was asking, admitting, or snarking.
“You do,” said Twilight.  But looking back on certain moments in her own history, particularly those that involved late friendship reports...“I sometimes do, too.”
“So did my father.”
“I think he knew, he just delighted in pushing the limit.”  
Cordoba started to grin and Twilight quickly backpedaled, not wanting to give her any ideas.  “But first you have to learn where the limit is.”
“I am still unsure what you are getting out of this arrangement except exerting control over me,” Cordoba said.
“Well, friendship is a constant process.  The more I’m involved, the more information I can glean.”
“And you said you had problems of your own.  I know how much other ponies make fun of you for being a terrible friend.”
“I’m not a terrible friend!” Twilight argued.
“That is not what I said.  I said other ponies make fun of you for it.”  Cordoba paused strategically.  “But you are a terrible friend.”
Twilight fought down her consternation.  She’d been down this road before, often.  “I can tell you’re trying to bait me into an argument.  I’ve at least learned that.  That’s a tactic your father used to use.”
“I am not as skilled as he,” said Cordoba.  “He would have had you bursting into flames already.”
Twilight saw an opening.  “But you’re learning and finding your own path.  You seem to do things just because you think you should, because Valiant did them.  But what do you want to do?”
Cordoba frowned and did not reply.  Twilight suppressed a smirk.  She’d finally found something for which Cordoba didn’t have an immediate refutal.  Score!  Twilight: one.  Cordoba...um, well, Twilight: one!
“Maybe while we’re learning, you can discover what you really want to do in life,” suggested Twilight.  “I can help you find your own personal calling.”
Cordoba nodded.  “I’d like that.”
Elsewhere, specifically the restricted section of the Canterlot Archive, Trixie and Daring were looking for any information on the enigmatic Columbia referred to in Valiant’s notes.
The archive contained the Equestrian government’s most sensitive data, history, and secrets.  There was a whole section devoted to Valiant.
“I’ve got a reference here to something called a nuclear submarine,” said Daring.
“Maybe, but a submarine is a little subtle for dad,” replied Trixie.
The data they were combing through had been assembled from pieces and parts collected about Valiant: notes from observations, intercepted communications, scraps of paper he had carelessly discarded.
“Some of these are pretty new,” said Daring.  “They’re stamped SATCOM.”
“Yeah, data taken from the satellites,” said Trixie.  “We should probably retake control of the system soon.  Sunset and I haven’t had a lot of interest, though.  It was kind of dad’s project and we don’t have a lot of need for high tech spying now.”
Trixie lifted a book from the shelf and a scrap of paper fell out.  She picked it up and her eyes widened.
“What is it?” Daring asked.
“It says ‘Columbia,’ then has the number seventy eight million fifty one thousand one hundred twenty.”
“What could that mean?” Daring wondered.  “Maybe we should start thinking about visiting Earth to track down some of these answers.”
Trixie nodded.  “Dad mentioned this thing called the internet that could help with research.  Speaking of research, we’ll have to figure out how to get there.  He sealed up the methods he used to travel back and forth to prevent interference from the other side.  Twilight and I went through a portal in a mirror once.  Maybe we can reprogram it to link to dad’s home universe.”
Daring smiled.  “I’ve never written a sci-fi story before.  Count me in.”
Elsewhere, specifically the borrowed bedroom on the upper floor of the farmhouse at Sweet Apple Acres, Braeburn was coding.
Or trying to.  He was having trouble wrapping his head around the concept.  There was only so much AND/OR/NOT he could take.
He’d gotten a few books from the library.  That odd stallion Bible had helped him find them, though he’d admitted he didn’t know a lot about the subject.  Braeburn snorted.  “Like I have any right to call somepony odd.”
“What do you mean?” asked Tin Mare.  Braeburn had forgotten to turn off the radio link on which their respective equipment shared a frequency.  He didn’t know where she was at the moment, but her voice came through.
“Nothing, just talking to myself while I read these books about code.”
“What are you learning?”
“I’m learning that it takes so much effort just to make one code decision.  Trying to figure out how I’m going to rewrite your programming to remove the personality block is going to be...difficult.”  Braeburn couldn’t afford to talk himself out of this.  “But I’m not going to stop.”
“Braeburn, we have discussed this.  I cannot allow you to modify my code.”
“I’m trying to help you!”
“Regardless of your intent, I am programmed to resist any attempts to change my directives.”  Her tone was emotionless.  Or was it?  Did Braeburn detect a hint of malice or was he imagining it?
“You wouldn’t hurt me.  I trust you.”
“I do not wish to harm you, Braeburn.  However, I am more than capable and able to do so.  I was not built to follow any laws of robotics, I was built to terminate threats.”
“And that’s wrong!  You should be able to choose.  I’m trying to help you gain the ability to think for yourself!”
“Why would you do this against my will?”
Braeburn’s mouth dropped open.  She thought of herself as a robot.  She was hardwired to resist.  But even still, was it right to force her to do something she didn’t want to do?
Seconds passed.  He swallowed hard and made his decision.
But before he could voice it, a bowling ball crashed through the window.
Elsewhere, specifically right outside, Apple Bloom said, “Oops.”
“I told you I didn’t need any help!” Limestone Pie shouted.  “Leave me alone!”
That had, by far, been the most violent reaction to the Crusaders trying to find someone around Ponyville in need of help.  And they still hadn’t found anyone.  Even Coloratura, who’d just gotten out of the hospital and wore an eyepatch, hadn’t needed any.
Though perhaps she’d shied away more in reaction to Limestone than anything.  Apparently the two of them had a history.
“Crusaders,” Twilight called to Braeburn by way of explanation.  That was explanation enough.  She lifted the bowling ball out the window and fixed the glass with magic.
“Well, now what should we do?” Apple Bloom asked as Limestone walked away.
As if in answer, Guinness suddenly came running up.  “I need a babysitter!”  He thrust Skyla at Twilight.
“Um, this is a little short notice,” Twilight protested.
Sweetie waved a hoof in the air.
“Please, it’s urgent.”  Guinness next tried to give Skyla to Cordoba.
She pulled out her cutlass, turned it around, and offered it to him.  “Take this, and shove it up your asshole.”
Cordoba glanced at Twilight.  “Am I saying that right?  I was trying to learn new insults.”
Guinness was still not deterred, however.  “Please, I need help.”
The Crusaders were now all trying to get his attention.
“What’s the problem?” Twilight asked.  “Why do you need help?”
Guinness looked over his shoulder nervously.  “It’s the AIDS.”
Twilight frowned.  “AIDS?”
“Don’t you have to have HIV first?” said Cordoba.
“He said it was not HIV, but full blown AIDS,” said Apple Bloom.
“We can help!” Scootaloo shouted.
“And I know what you’re thinkin’ but we’re totally qualified!” insisted Apple Bloom.
“I even babysat my sister’s cat once and that was fine!” said Sweetie.
“Feline AIDS?” said Apple Bloom.
“No, we’re trying to have less AIDS,” Sweetie corrected.
“You have that right,” said a voice.
They all turned.  Guinness gulped.
Half a dozen mares wearing long coats stood in front of them.  All wore small gold pins on their lapels.  The leader spoke again.  “We are the SOS and we’re here to stop the AIDS, etc. ASAP.”
“I don’t speak the language that well, but are they trying to be funny?” Cordoba asked.
Twilight surveyed the serious expressions of the so-called SOS.  “Uh, no, I don’t think so.  In fact, these might be the same ponies who have been following us around all over Equestria recently.”
Twilight called out to them.  “What do you want?”
“Did I not just finish telling you that?” the leader grumbled.  “Quote, ‘we’re here to stop the AIDS.’”
“She has you there,” said Cordoba.
Twilight glanced at her in annoyance.  “Whose side are you on?”
“Mine.”
“I figured.”
Braeburn opened the window.  “What’s going on out there?”
“Catch!” shouted Guinness.  He cocked his foreleg back and threw Skyla like a football.
“Yaaaay!”
Braeburn nearly fumbled, but came up holding the foal.  “What was that for?!”
“Get her!” shouted the lead SOS mare.
They started towards the house, but a sudden rapid series of explosions threw up a wall of dust in front of them.  A fraction of a second later, they heard the muzzle blast of the gun that had fired the explosive rounds.
Tin Mare roared in, tailgate already down and primed for extraction.  Since she was offering, it made a lot of sense to climb aboard, and Twilight, Cordoba, the Crusaders, and Guinness did.  Tin Mare lifted off, passing close by the house.  Braeburn jumped aboard, still holding Skyla.
“Why is it that you’re always appearing at opportune times to provide fire support and evac?” Twilight asked.
“I have good sensors,” replied Tin Mare.  “However, in this case Braeburn called me when he suspected something was amiss.”
“Speaking of, what was that all about?” Braeburn demanded, handing Skyla back to Guinness.
“They’re after Skyla,” Guinness said.  
“Whatever for?” Twilight asked.
“Something about Alicornized Immune Deficiency Syndrome.  Ever heard of it?”
Twilight’s eyes widened.  “If they’re after Skyla because she’s an alicorn, then they must also be after Flurry.  We’ve got to get to Ponyville!”