She yelped as the needle went in, and the stab of pain prevented her from noticing the gasp and sudden increase in sweat within the coat of the stallion whose field had just delivered the little wound. The followup low level of muttering to herself blocked her from hearing most of his increasingly rapid breaths, as did the drumbeat of her forehooves repeatedly hitting the examination table (or rather, the three which had been pushed together to accommodate her), with the latter sound maintaining right up until the needle was finally withdrawn -- at which point, it ended in a single heavy slam of impact.
"How much more of this are we going to do?" And with that frustrated exclamation, her head jerked to the right, angry eyes staring at the pony who had been inflicting her torment -- just in time to see all four of his knees bend by another eight degrees.
"There's... six more," Chocolate Bear just barely managed. "I still need to collect some hoof shavings, and get a -- feather sample, standard mantle and one flight --" and he stopped. His own gaze was now fixed on the table's newest dent.
"Six more."
Which eventually produced an extremely unsteady "...yes."
"A real six or a 'I just thought of something I missed when I said six' six?"
His garment was nearly soaked through. "...eight."
Her teeth ground. "Eight."
"...maybe nine." And before she could react to that, "Princess, I know it's a lot, but with no medical history for either of you, we have to start everything from scratch. We should only have to do the full round once, unless things -- change."
"Or you happen to remember something else you wanted to do."
"We're only doing what's necessary," the surgeon insisted. "We're trying to make sure the two of you haven't been infected, we'll have to do this with Princess Cadance as soon as possible -- and it's all part of trying to save Joyous and her family. It's -- doing the needful."
Her neck dipped low under the weight of frustration, leaving her head resting on her tightly-pressed forelegs. "Just get it over with."
A brief silence, just long enough for another, very close, rather loud sound to fade enough for any further discussion to take place, and then, "You know, I've had --" and this time, it was the dead stop of a pony who'd been accelerating into full gallop and had just seen the cliff less than two hoofsteps ahead.
"Had. What?"
He swallowed.
"You're going to say it," she told him. "We both know it. So just save yourself some time and --"
"-- I've had fillies and colts deal with this better than you have," he told her, and the hoof-shaving blade vibrated within his shaky field.
She sighed. "And I suppose you were expecting a Princess to be the calmest of patients, without a word of protest or complaint, who possibly couldn't even feel pain and would never admit any she did --" another pause, and they both waited for the echoes to die away "-- would that be correct?" And before he could answer, Celestia irritably continued with "Yes, there is such a creature as a perfect Princess who both nobly and silently bears every hurt in her life, and she's generally found within the less-skilled grades of fiction. However, as I would hope my sister and I had recently established, Dr. Bear, you? Are currently dealing with a pony. A pony who has been dreading this exact thing for a very long time, who has done everything she could to avoid it over that same duration, who, when it comes to medical examination and the taking of sample after sample after sample, has possibly talked herself into becoming just a little phobic over it, and is exactly as happy about having to finally submit to poking and prodding and needles as you'd probably guess. I'm currently trying not to gallop. For the sake of Joyous and her parents, for the good of Equestria, and because we all need the answers which I'm hoping these tests will provide. But I'm also trying not to fly, or teleport, or melt the needles before they can go into my skin. And incidentally, I've had to display my true mane more times in the last two weeks than in the last century, which is actually a rather minor thing compared to everything else, right up until it starts to feel like the straw which overloads the hay bale, and --"
Her cutoff was only partially voluntary: she'd meant to stop there before the verbal flow drifted into even darker currents, but the thunder had shoved its way in.
The stallion remained silent well beyond the final echo.
"Doctor Bear?"
"You're right," he quietly said. "I was assuming. And it is a lot of needles, and... Princess, it's just that... you're right. Back at our old hospital, I saw doctors stop treating ponies as -- ponies. Especially the older ones. Vanilla had his reasons for leaving, I had mine for going with him, and our friendship wasn't exactly the least of it. But part of it was because I got sick of hearing all the little defensive jokes about the sick ponies we were treating, and seeing how some of the most senior physicians couldn't meet anypony's eyes any more. They just saw cases, or studies, or -- bills to be collected. But I was looking at you, and I saw -- a Princess." A long moment of nearly-silent loathing. "No, it's worse than that. Part of me is seeing a case study. Because we are the first in -- a very long time -- to get a chance at finding out how an alicorn body works."
"Doctor," she quietly said, "I understand necessity. Perhaps better than you might guess. But there are some things --"
He spotted the look in her eyes, the tiny vibration in the feathers. "-- Princess... you would get it from just about any doctor. We're mystery solvers, at least for the best of us. Vanilla may joke about how the only way I ever learn anything is through cutting, but that's how surgeons get treated in general, and... I don't want to hurt you. I hate that this puts you in any pain. But we have to learn. That's the necessity. And because that necessity is leading to something so unique..." He sighed. "I want to help. I wouldn't have this mark if I didn't want to help. But it's very hard not to be excited, at the chance to learn. And... I'm trying to see a pony, I really am. But..."
She softly finished for him. "...but you have a lifetime of Princess in front of your eyes."
The soft brown lids briefly shut. "Yeah. A lot of lifetimes. And --" talking faster now "-- it's like there's thousands of questions I want to ask, questions I almost feel like I could ask, and so many of them feel like foal questions, but... some of them are things you have to find out about from a patient. And others might even go to a Princess. But... for a pony, even when real medical needs become involved, some of them are going to sound too personal. Invasive. And when it's you... Princess, I -- don't know how far I can go."
She forced herself to complete several deep breaths. Two of them were interrupted.
"Say what you must. Ask what you feel you have to. If I feel it's related to the problem, I'll try to answer."
"And if you feel it isn't?"
"You'll know when the needles start melting."
"Oh."
"That was a joke, Doctor Bear."
"...oh."
"Incidentally, when you're finished learning what you can, we're going to talk about the security measures necessary for your notes."
"I understand."
"And when all this is over, you'll destroy the samples."
"Yes."
"Especially the mane and tail hair ones."
"...yes."
"Use acid. They won't burn."
"...yes."
And they listened to the next sound.
"So," Celestia asked, "how did the two of you decide who would examine each of us?"
"Random number guessing. Vanilla's horrible at it. Does -- Princess Luna always set off lightning somewhere when she's stressed or pained?"
"Not always. Just -- frequently. Does your partner always faint when he's trying to repress his own panic?"
"Not always," Chocolate Bear eventually said.
"Really?"
"Just... frequently."
'She has to.'
Luna hadn't been sure about that, and still wasn't. There were many things for which secrecy was naturally best, others where it had to be enforced -- and still more where the truth would do more damage than lies ever could. Bringing the doctors into that near-highest level of confidence... with most ponies, that situation would have generally rested within the third category, and she still wasn't entirely certain that it wouldn't wind up there at some point, especially after all the needles, even if a pony she'd personally had to revive three times might not seem like all that much of a threat.
But for Joyous to be told about her parents... that seemed as if it too might reside inside that dreaded third category. Because there were times when the truth did indeed set one free, and others where it did its best to irritate the base of her own horn before the restraint was ultimately removed -- but sometimes, the truth simply hurt, and Joyous... had enough to deal with already.
She'd argued with Celestia about that, and the discussion had gone on for longer than it should have, with each questioning the other on their motives: if they were being truly neutral with their respective judgments, if every decision was influenced either by the pheromones or their attempting to deny that effect by going too far in the other direction. In doing so, they spoke about Joyous as a victim, and in her perpetual role as problem. And in doing that, both missed something vital, and neither one would recognize the missing element until it was too late.
They reached an agreement after a time, although it was a shaky one, filled with second guesses, outlined by third hunches, and accompanied by a full fleet of fourth through tenth wild suppositions. And so in the end, they took Joyous aside and told her... not everything, because that seemed to be more than she could bear. But the journey concluded with them taking her up to that one-way glass, and showing her the two mares sitting behind it.
The brilliant yellow eyes stared, and the sisters allowed the pegasus to do so in silence.
"What are they doing?" Joyous eventually asked. Her voice seemed far too soft.
"Filling out an employment history," Celestia said. "It's taking a while. The doctors have to keep going in and reminding them of how necessary it is for their newest job. But as we told you, we need to know everywhere the three of you went."
"Because... the doctors are trying to figure out where we all got sick," Joyous quietly repeated.
"Yes," Luna carefully agreed. "This is why we need you to delve into your memories, Joyous. To think of the very first time when it seemed as if their affection had begun to diminish, for when compared to the records of their travels, there is a chance that we may be able to isolate --"
"-- so they could have given it to me?"
It had been quiet. It had been remarkably even. It had been all too close to a statement.
They both stared at her.
"There are scenarios where that's possible," Celestia eventually said. "But Joyous, we need you to focus on --"
A problem to be solved. A victim to be rescued. And in the limitless bounds of their mutual nightscapes, they thought of her as something else entirely. But it meant that the sisters had made the same mistake.
"...and..."
Neither of them had spent any real time thinking about Joyous as a pony.
"...I could have given it to you?"
And they had just learned she wasn't a stupid one.
They were still staring at her. At the trembling in knees and feathers, the too-short breaths coming far too quickly, the moisture coating those yellow eyes...
"Joyous," Luna urgently said, "do not fly down that air path. We know nothing of how this condition spreads. It is possible that it is in the blood, that nopony can be affected unless they are born with it, and even then, palliatives may exist. And should it be a disease, there may be no natural way in which a pony could transmit it. In fact, there is no cause for believing that merely being near you could inflict the problem upon another. There are no other ponies in Equestria who have currently been identified as having this issue, and the Doctors Bear were very clear in their explanation as to how unlikely that would be if the condition could spread at all. You have no cause for concern. We are being tested, we have experienced no signs --"
"-- they wouldn't test you unless they thought there might be something to test for," Joyous whispered, and the tears began to fall. "Unless they thought there was a chance --"
"-- it's precautionary," Celestia hastily cut in. "They're doctors. Any excuse for a --"
"-- please." And it had been pleading. "Please... don't lie to me..." She looked to each in turn, and the tears fell for both sisters. "Not about this..."
Shivering now. Tail curled against the left side of her body, covering that mark. Head barely held aloft, body seeming to shrink. And neither could approach to comfort her.
"...it..." Luna said, and found that when it came to the creation of a cloaking, reassuring, life-mending falsehood, the single word was all she had.
Joyous forced her head up again. Yellow eyes on dark blue, Sun asking for truth from the night.
"Princess Luna... please..."
Luna took a slow breath, felt Celestia doing the same, and wondered how to best stop any attempt at suicide.
"...it... is unlikely," Luna softly replied. "The doctors are only testing to make certain it is impossible. So that all our fears may be put to rest."
"Which means you thought of it too," Joyous whispered, "or there wouldn't be something to be afraid of."
Her head went down, then came up to a normal level. She slowly turned, stared through the enchanted one-way glass at the two grumbling mares who were thoroughly sick of the stupid forms and just wanted to go out and survey already. The obsidian tail twisted with pain.
"Joyous," Celestia carefully said, "we're closer than ever to solving this. Having them here is a vital hoofstep. And there's no proof that Princess Luna and I have been affected. We thought about it, yes. It... was hard not to think about. But --"
"-- I'm going in," Joyous quietly declared.
Both sisters blinked.
"To see your parents?" Luna unnecessarily asked. "But -- they will --"
"-- they'll what?" It was the first time they'd ever heard her laugh, and the bitterness still carried a touch of beauty. "Expose me? Get me sick? I'm the only pony here who could wander in and out of there as much as I like, anytime I want to. The best case is that I'm the only pony anywhere who could do it, right? So I'm going in. Because they're my parents. And you can't stop me."
They could. They had dozens of ways of doing so, and that was just with keeping it within the options which would do no physical harm. And yet both watched as she turned, slowly began to trot towards the door...
"Joyous!"
The beautiful face, every elegant line etched in misery, glanced back.
"Your talent!" Luna gasped. "When you affect them -- if they --"
"They won't." A simple statement.
"You cannot know!"
"They never did," Joyous quietly stated. "They couldn't. They were... already obsessed with something else..." And went around the corner.
The sisters switched to staring at each other.
"If they make one move," Celestia urgently said.
"We teleport in and get her out," Luna concluded. "And no more."
With open disbelief, "So we're letting her do this?"
"Apparently," and the word was not as dry as Luna would have wished. "Since you are moving no more than I."
"Why?"
"You know why, sister. Because we can bring her out. And..." Luna forced herself to look at the glass. "...because she must do this."
Each stood in place, trying to keep their breathing steady. Both watched the mares. Both saw the trembling blue body nudge its way past the door, which didn't quite close behind her: sound leaked out. And since the filter spell was no longer active, it was all they saw: a trio of metallic pegasus mares, two older, one younger, and not the cloud which even now had to be spreading into the room...
Joyous' eyes closed, opened again with great effort. "Mom?" To Rapture, who had carried her. "Dam?" For Pleasant, whose exuberant signature had covered much of the Most Special Spell's request form.
Neither looked up from their excruciatingly boring paperwork.
"Please..."
Garnet eyes shifted. A head turned.
"Oh," Rapture said.
Neither sister could breathe.
"See if they have quarters for you," Rapture continued, every word bearing the same level of total disinterest as the first. "It's a palace: I suppose they'll have space to put you up. You've made your own supper?"
Joyous began to cry. And Rapture went back to her paperwork.
Pleasant glanced over at her spouse. "Who was that?"
"That was..." The green pegasus frowned. "That was... I think... help me out on this line: where were we eight years ago?"
"Where weren't we?" Pleasant laughed. "Come on, you remember that little dust devil breeding ground we spent two moons trying to permanently untangle! After all the times you had to redo your tail?"
"My tail? Like your mane wasn't carrying half the dirt back every night!"
They both giggled. Neither paid any attention to Joyous' weeping.
"Tricky bit of surveying there," Pleasant smiled. "You remember now?"
"Yes. But I wanted to hear you say it. How much of this do we have to fill out? Can't we just scribble some random stuff down and get out there, like we did on the last few jobs?"
"We could..." Pleasant considered. "But it's the palace. They'll check. And I don't want to take a chance on not getting to survey for the palace! Just keep going."
And then she sighed.
"I'm thirsty," Pleasant said. "Is there any water in here?" She looked up, glanced towards the door...
"Water," she told Joyous, and the tone made it clear that the salt rendered the tears unsuitable.
Joyous nodded once, turned, and slowly trotted out.
Behind her, as the weight of the door gradually brought it closer to closure, "Rapture?"
"What's up?"
"She..."
"She who?"
"...is she... older?"
"The Princess? She's older than anypony, except her sister. That's why she had the experience to choose us!"
"No, I... I meant... so, that gets us to eight and a half years back..."
There was a soft click. And then there were only hoofsteps, and light reflecting from a metallic blue coat.
"Where can I get them some water, please?" Joyous asked the sisters, and the tears streaked dark tracks into her fur.
"Joyous." Luna was having trouble hearing her own voice. "That is enough. Do not go in there again, please. There is only so much we can ask you to bear --"
"-- it... wasn't them."
They had expected a whisper. They would have been surprised if any real volume could have been mustered at all. But neither had expected --
"Joyous?" Celestia's turn. "They're your parents. We tracked them. There aren't any other ponies who qualify --"
"-- it's... not what I meant, Princess. I wasn't talking to them. I haven't..." More tears fell. None of them changed the new note in her voice. "...I haven't spoken to them for a long time, have I?"
"Joyous, you must tell us what you are thinking," Luna said, as gently as she could, for anything so harsh as insistence directed against the fragile pegasus felt as if it could break. "Without your words, we cannot --"
"-- I was talking to a disease," Joyous softly answered, and the tone in her voice was the same. "A disease which doesn't know me, or care about me, and can barely remember me at all. A sickness in two pony bodies. It was the disease which didn't come home when it promised to. Illness never picked me up from school, or took me there on so many new first days. Something which isn't my parents. Which never was."
She managed to look up at them then, and just for a second, her expression matched her tone.
"The disease doesn't love me," she said, "because it can't. But... if they're cured... then somewhere under the disease... I still have a mom and dam. I always did. They just can't get out..."
A hesitant, uncertain, fearful joy.
Elder looked to younger, and for one moment, their thought was the same.
"We will do what we can," Luna promised again. "For all three of you, now. To -- free you..."
Celestia nodded, and Luna knew her sister well enough to understand that in that moment, without the ability to press tightly against trembling feathers, offering the comfort of presence, it was all the elder could do.
"I'm -- going to go write some things down," Joyous carefully said. "What you were talking about. So you can compare it, and maybe..." She began to trot away --
-- stopped. Glanced back.
"I won't hurt myself," the pegasus said. "Or... worse. You need all three of us. The worse it might be... the more you need us all alive. So all I'll do is write things down, and -- anything else which might help. As long as there's a chance. Okay?"
Both managed a nod, and nothing more. Joyous left.
The siblings stood in front of the window for a time. Watched the increasingly bored attempts at mouthwriting.
"Sister?"
"What is it, Luna?"
"What do you think she would have been like? Without the disease?"
A long moment of thought, and then, "I don't know. If they hadn't gotten sick... it changes too many things, Luna, and her mark probably would have been one of them. All we can do is try to help the pony who's here now."
Still watching, but only in the sense that their eyes were oriented in that direction. The actual visions were somewhat more -- inner.
"I believed her. When she said she would not harm herself."
Softly, "As long as there was a chance..."
"I am aware. And so we must do our best to create one."
And now both could only see what no longer existed.
"When she said..." Luna began, "that a disease cannot love..."
"I know." Purple eyes closed, in exact concert with blue. "I thought of our father too."
"Tartarus-chained horse apple smear flying feather excuse for a --"
The thing flew past Celestia's snout, not so much interrupting the stream of invective as putting a final exclamation point on it. She glanced towards the bright hue, felt her eyes widen slightly, and then turned her attention to the physician who had just kicked the thing into the hallway -- and, having looked out to see where it had landed, noticed her in turn.
"-- sorry, Princess."
"Forgiven," and she managed a smile. "That's not an uncommon reaction in the presence of that product, Dr. Bear. Actually, the fact that it's not currently in existence as free-floating scraps actually shows a high degree of restraint, along with an unusually resilient sample. And I'd normally ask what's wrong, but I just saw it go by. Was that for one of your ideas?"
"One of the more crucial ones," Vanilla sighed. "We need that. Or at least, we need something which actually does what the manufacturer implied it can do. But I went down to the company myself --"
Celestia briefly frowned. Yes, they're still in Canterlot, aren't they?
"-- because I didn't want to risk using it with Joyous until I'd gone through a trial gallop. So I got one for me, and -- split seams, a split viewport, shedding material every time I breathed, and I couldn't even get it over my mane!" The light blue field ignited, carefully smoothed the mass upwards.
With an inner smile, To be fair, Doctor, that last portion may have been your fault. "It's a common complaint. Too common." Except for the mane part. Most manes would actually bend under pressure. "So -- I believe you just said this is crucial?"
"Yes," Vanilla groaned. "If it had worked. Which it doesn't. And I don't even know where we'd start looking for a substitute, with no other manufacturers..."
"Doctor?"
"...Princess?
"There are certain... benefits to working for us." And with that, the smile made it all the way out into the open. "And if we're going to be frank with each other, there's a part of me which has been wanting to do this for a very long time..."
"Gentlecolts!"
Everypony working on the manufacturing floor of Hoovmat Suits Limited instinctively turned around at the sound of the well-projected, powerful, happy mare voice. In three cases, the movement put noticeable holes in the material they were working on, but that was fine: the business always needed extra goods for the frequent Ponyville shipments.
"It's so nice to see you all today!" Celestia beamed. "Frankly, I've been meaning to visit for some time." Her field deposited the last of the overwhelmed (and very stupid) security force back in the office area, moving them out of sight behind the opened double doors. There was a soft sound of impact. "To see exactly how you work, because it's a fascinating business, really it is, and I just thought it's the sort of thing I had to see in order to appreciate --"
Nopony was moving now, at least for those who'd been working on the product. Only one set of hooves could be heard, pounding quickly towards the back exit --
-- Celestia's field lanced forward, and seconds later, a huffing earth pony was deposited in front of her.
"Mr. Hoovmat, I presume?" she smiled.
He went with his instinctive response. "Let me see your warrant."
Celestia elegantly raised an eyebrow. "Warrant? I'm not in law enforcement, Mr. Hoovmat -- well, technically, I do put in some time as a judge now and again. You might remember Garleek Ramshead's trial. Or not. But at any rate, I'm simply dropping by your company as a customer. To speak about your product."
He stared up at her. Celestia smiled down at him -- and did her best to loom.
Mr. Hoovmat swallowed.
"My product is... legitimate."
"Yes," Celestia smiled. "The source of many legitimate lawsuits." She began to trot down the center aisle, glancing from rusty machine to hard-sparking device. Frozen ponies watched her as she passed, her field towing the company's owner behind her at low skid. "Or at least so the ponies who keep taking you to court seem to feel. But you're on something of a winning streak there, I understand, especially after adding your most recent disclaimer. A brilliant move, really. The costs to print a few extra words are so much lower than those involved in repair or improvements, much less fulfilling promises... oh, dear, let me vent that for you..."
Her field twisted a valve. Three devices passively postponed their final breakdowns for another two weeks.
"My text," Mr. Hoovmat said with the confidence of a pony who'd gotten through his last twelve civil cases with no more than negligible court costs (which hadn't been paid until the fifth notice) and some very funny stories about the customers he'd suckered, "is legally sound."
"Oh, very," Celestia agreed, listening happily to the little scraping noise his hooves were making against the floor. "Hoovmat Suits! The full-body, head-to-tail covering which will keep you safe in wild zones! Not a strand of fur exposed to contagions! Until you move. Or breathe. I understand that just thinking about breathing is occasionally enough to start splitting seams, although that generally seems to apply to the Ponyville shipments, and yet I know of a certain trio of mares who continue to swear by you, because they are terrified of being without any protection at all and there's really nothing else, especially with your -- shall we say, aggressive approach to stopping competitors, or so the rumors claim -- just rumors, really..."
"Rumors don't hold up in court," said the increasingly confident pony.
"True, true..." Celestia smiled. "But still, somehow, you're the only manufacturer, despite the obvious opening for somepony else to go against you, much like all the obvious openings in your suits after ten minutes of use. It's to be commended, really. Hoovmat Suits! That distinctive yellow color! That one-of-a-kind rip pattern! And when ponies on wild zone expeditions get hurt, so many use their time in the hospital to finally read the fine print and see that the protection which they thought was being described is mostly implied. And you can't be sued for what ponies imagine -- well, not in a way where you lose, correct?"
"Correct," Mr. Hoovmat said with the air of a pony who'd just decided he'd won. "So if you're quite done --"
"-- and what does the fine print say? That the protection is in the color. Bright yellow, Mr. Hoovmat, just like your coat! And it's meant as protection against other ponies, because that's a rare hue to find in the wild zones, very rare indeed, and so any other pony out there will see your customers in their suits and not instinctively attack!" She briefly held her breath as she moved through a cloud of foul-smelling steam. "Which is a true benefit, I would never argue that! Ponies can be very jumpy in wild zones and having something to instinctively not react to -- it's a good idea, really. It's just that... well... when you're covered in bright yellow, to other ponies, you're a beacon of Don't Hurt Me. And to monsters? Also a beacon, which generally comes across as Open Package To Access Flavor. And still, because of your disclaimers, you've been safe -- but you still added a few more words, just a couple of moons ago. I saw them in your latest catalog, which took the best magnifying glass I could locate. And they are brilliant words." She stopped, turned to face him -- and batted her eyelashes. "Would you mind saying them for me? Please? I do so love hearing the work of a genius."
And before he could stop himself, the pony who had just gone through his first brief sliver of doubt in nearly a decade said "'For Entertainment Purposes Only.'"
Celestia smiled.
Her horn's corona went double. Sunlight intensified the factory's shadows, made some of the steam glow, glinted off the sweat in worker coats.
"Amazing," she declared. And loomed. "Do you know what's even more amazing?"
"The fact that somepony, even a Princess, has barged into my facility --"
Her field jerked the owner one body length closer.
"-- I just inspected your entire plant," Celestia quietly said. "I'm no expert on devices: I admit that. But I was happy to see that the old ones were still around -- dusty, unused, unmaintained, but present -- from when I originally visited your great-grandfather. Oh, he was a pony of vision, Mr. Hoovmat. He understood that it would take extraordinarily careful effort, time, dedication, and craftsponyship to create a truly protective garment. And the first generation of suits -- they weren't perfect. But they were on their way to the goal -- and then he died, and his offspring simply rode the reputation he'd been so carefully crafting. Into the ground. Cut corners. Don't run the good devices: they require recharging too often and who wants to pay for the thaums? But don't throw them away either, because hauling things out can take time and money, and besides, they help you keep up appearances. Don't follow his more advanced designs because that takes thought and effort. Don't use good fabric because that costs bits and you want to keep your profit margins as high as possible. Don't do anything except rely on a never-ending supply of the conned right up until the moment it does end, and you're getting very close to that point, Mr. Hoovmat. I give you four years at the outside, because ponies do talk, the majority don't purchase on faith more than once, and it won't be all that long before you're down to just the Flower Trio, and they're not enough. You could gear back up to your great-grandfather's standards within a day or two, if you were willing to invest in repairs and recharging and fabric which would hold. But you won't, even when you go down at the last. Because you're cheap, and lazy, and selling what ponies hope for from you is just too much like work."
He flinched at the filthy word, and Celestia smiled.
"And yet," Celestia told him, "I'm here today as a customer."
A bubble of sunlight went over his head, drifted behind the doors. After a moment, it came back bearing a scroll.
"Ah, here we are..." Her field unrolled it, presented it to eyes which generally refused to see anything which wasn't personally owned. "Exacting measurements. Precise requirements. And the first of that latter requires you to repair, recharge, and refit your great-grandfather's devices. This group of Hoovmat Suits will be made according to the notes for his final prototype, the one your grandfather was too enamored of his own bits to ever put into practice, a not particularly proud family tradition which you continue to practice in the modern day. You are about to make a Hoovmat Suit which would do your Founder proud -- whether you like it or not."
He was beginning to cower within her shadow. She kept smiling.
"You can't... you can't threaten me..." he eventually tried. "The palace has no right to --"
"-- I? I'm here to purchase, Mr. Hoovmat. There are standards for palace behavior, yes: well-known ones, or at least frequently-believed... but I would never threaten you."
"Then --" he unwillingly glanced at the scroll "-- are you kidding me? That's barely three percent over margin, with the repair costs included! I'm not outlaying that amount of bits for a one-time purchase when nopony else would spend that kind of money! Oh no, Princess, no way in Tartarus! You can't threaten me, and you can't make me sell to you, so all things considered, you can release your field and just get out --!"
"-- you really don't listen very well, do you?" And in that moment, her voice was only partially her own.
He seemed to have lost the ability to blink. The little jaw drop more than made up for it.
"I'm not threatening you at all," Celestia peacefully told him, and stomped her right forehoof twice.
Nopony along the manufacturing line was willing to try moving. Nopony wanted to be the next target. Which made the hooffalls coming down the center aisle into something entirely new.
Slowly, reluctantly, Mr. Hoovmat glanced backwards, and immediately wished he hadn't.
"I don't believe you've met Princess Luna," Celestia smiled. "Not that most ponies would be expecting such a meeting at her personally rather irritating hour of noon. Incidentally, did you know that she was responsible for nearly all of our nation's early tax code? Most ponies don't. But she's just that good with numbers, and that? Is why she volunteered to go over your books in order to help you with your upcoming audit. Because you do cut corners, Mr. Hoovmat, in every place you can, and it seems that one of those places is in the full and accurate filing of your taxes. Really, who could have discovered that among your numerous forms? Other than her. After about twelve seconds with your most recent return. I'm sure a good accountant would have been able to get away with calling your last escort hiring a business expense, but it's not as if you were willing to pay for one any more than you're capable of hiring legal representation because it's so much cheaper to stand in for yourself. Princess Luna, as you insisted, please go ahead and begin assisting Mr. Hoovmat in the free and proper formatting of his ledgers. The real ones."
The shivering stallion looked from one sister to the other, over and over. Celestia released her field from his body, and he didn't move, for there was nowhere to go. "How... how did you know I had another set of --"
"-- I didn't," Celestia smiled, and began to trot away. "I'm stepping out for an hour. Or two. Unless I happen to hear any screaming start, in which case, it may turn into four, possibly six. Good luck with your account balancing, Mr. Hoovmat. And please do consider fulfilling the customer order I just presented you. Because frankly, in my opinion? You're about to need all the bits you can get."
They were reading. One to a group of papers, calling out their comparisons across the narrow gap as they rested within the Lunar Courtyard.
With the parents... they had done their best to rush, but after hearing the bit of leaked discussion, Luna had gone to them and in near-chorus with the Doctors Bear, she had carefully, openly, and repeatedly noted that she needed a complete work history. It had come in time, along with the extra forms required to hold all of it. As their daughter had told them, the Releases had moved. A lot.
Under one of the other hooves, Joyous' mouthwriting was... lacking. It had been a long time since she'd had anything to write down at all, much less a cause for doing so, and the years of neglect had eroded her skill. The sisters found themselves squinting at various symbols as Equestrian offhoofedly mutated into something closer to Ancient Crystalia, along with making extra efforts to make out anything where the ink had been blurred by tear stains. But other than in legibility, she had done her best. She had made every effort to remember that first hint of neglect -- and then after writing that down, had recalled another. And another. And another.
But eventually, the trails seemed to intersect, and both stared at the results.
Luna slowly shook her head. "And thus we catch ourselves in a lie."
Celestia sighed. "We wanted him to have a reason for why she was so skittish around him, Luna. So we planned that if he asked... that would be the excuse. That he was her first."
"A question we did not ask her," Luna wearily replied. "We have been rather unskilled in seeking our questions, sister. We both knew that when Joyous fled from her home, the vanishing was reported to law enforcement -- and neither of us asked who filed the paperwork, not until after her parents were brought to us..." It had been a teacher, and both were hoping it had been out of simple concern, with neither truly believing it.
"But she told us," Celestia quietly observed. "In a way. That they even went beyond Equestria sometimes. And ponies are hardly the only species with a need for weather surveying, who hire experts..."
Cautiously, "You believe it is possible, then?"
"Yes," the elder heavily said. "Strongly enough that we have to investigate it, with Joyous writing down every additional memory she can recover along the way. And in some ways, it makes things worse. It could explain why we haven't seen this before: there haven't been enough chances for exposure. We only know our own wild zones, and that can be little enough about them so much of the time. For the rest of the world... how many ponies truly venture within when abroad? So if it's exposure to something unknown, with no other way to spread, it improves our chances of their being the only ones affected. But at the same time, we're going to have less of a clue about what to look for than we did before -- which nearly leaves us going below zero -- and very little knowledge about what to beware of. Plus it's been a long time for both of us, Luna, and just going will draw attention -- with no real way to keep the trip fully private."
"And yet," the younger said, "we will go. Yes?"
Celestia nodded. "As soon as the suits are ready and Cadance's tests wrap up. I don't want to travel without having those factors in place. But in this case, we need the extra time. Alert your staff -- it's going to take both Solar and Lunar to make these arrangements."
Luna grimly smiled. "And to keep control of whatever chaos might result while we are both away with our own country knowing it. Let us hope it ends with something worth returning to... You will contact him?"
Celestia stood up. "Right now, in person. It's best he hears this from me. You start on the letter for our embassy: I'm flying over to his."
Get ready, Torque.
They were heading for Mazein.