Pony Gear Solid

by Posh

15. Outside of Battle

Every inch of Applejack's body was sore.

She'd been pulling double duty all day to help prep Ponyville however she could, and the closest thing to a break she'd had was when Granny Smith chopped up her singed mane and made something presentable out of it. Even that was strictly under protest; she'd had that braid for as long as she could remember, and her head felt weird without it, not to mention ten pounds lighter. But at least Granny did a decent job of making short hair work on her.

Or she thought so, anyway. Her siblings wouldn't stop snickering whenever they looked at her...

If only the rest of her battle damage was as easily fixed as her mane. She'd never admit it to anypony, but even without working herself as hard as she had, every part of her hurt. Her bones, her muscles, her hips and her joints – yesterday kicked her butt from start to finish. Somehow, the worst part of all that were the itchy bandages on her back. They probably needed to be changed, but she'd need to visit the hospital for that, and there wasn't any time to be laid up and lying around. She had a job to do. They all did.

And, right then, she had a request that needed fulfilling.

Carousel Boutique was dark and closed up, disturbingly lifeless with its curtains drawn, when Applejack arrived. Outside was a lone visitor: a familiar white filly with a backpack, knocking on the door and calling out Rarity's name.

"Sweetie Belle!" Applejack called jovially. "What brings y'all out here?"

Sweetie Belle's ear flicked at the mention of her name. She turned around, her bright smile dying when she glimpsed Applejack's physical state.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Applejack laughed hollowly. "I look like death warmed over."

"Well, actually..." The filly's eyes darted to Applejack's haircut, and she winced. "Uh, anyway, are you alright? I know something big happened with you and Rarity and the others last night, but nopony will say what it is."

"It's, uh... nothin' I can really talk about." Applejack rubbed the back of her neck.

"Rarity was asking about Apple Bloom yesterday. She said she was missing." Sweetie Belle paused, nervously licking her lips. "Did... did whatever happened to you... I mean, she's not... hurt, or anything, is she?"

Applejack smiled – few things touched her quite as much as the devotion her sister's friends had to her. And vice-versa.

"It might be a while 'fore she goes runnin' with you an Scoots again, but she's alright. Thanks fer askin'." She trotted past Sweetie, and stopped at the boutique's door. "Y'know, I came here lookin' for Rarity; I weren't expectin' t'see you."

"Oh, my parents asked me to spend the night at Rarity's. They want tonight to be a 'mommy and daddy' night.'"

"That happen often?"        

"Every couple of days."

Couple of days? She gawped at Sweetie Belle. How are you still Rarity's only sister?

"Of course, it's kinda hard to visit Rarity when she's got the door locked," Sweetie huffed. "I've been out here for, like... an hour."

Applejack raised an eyebrow.

"Or fifteen minutes, whatever." Sweetie waved her hoof dismissively.

Either way, that was unusual enough to feed Applejack's concern. Twilight hadn't given any specifics about Rarity – if they'd talked, or what they talked about – but her absence during the day's toils was notable. Rarity was a priss, albeit a lovable one, but not a slacker.

Applejack knocked on the door. "Rarity? Y'all in there?"

No answer.

Applejack felt sweat prickle her forehead. She glanced at Sweetie Belle; the filly was fidgeting nervously behind her.

Something's wrong.

Applejack hammered the door harder with her hoof. "Rarity, come on now! I'm gonna break this door down unless—"

The door suddenly shone blue and swung open. Rarity greeted them in a bathrobe, with her mane in a towel, and floating a coffee cup beside her head.

"Goodness gracious," she yawned, covering her mouth daintily. "I don't answer the door right away, so you start pummeling it like it's apple bucking season? Honestly, Applejack, I thought we were beyond that sort of – Sweetie!"

"Hi!" Sweetie Belle bounced up to Rarity and pecked her on the cheek, before ducking under her legs and gamboling inside.

Rarity watched her with a gentle, nostalgic smile. "Is it Mommy and Daddy Night again already? It feels like the last one was just..."

"A couple days ago?" said Applejack, smirking.

"Hush, you." Rarity beckoned Applejack inside and shut the door, before catching up to her delighted sister and sweeping her up in her levitation. "And you, young filly, get right back here this instant. There's a terrible imbalance between the two of us that I must correct posthaste!"

She pulled Sweetie closer and lavished kisses onto her cheeks, mwah-mwah-ing with gusto. A thoroughly embarrassed Sweetie suffered them, groaning, while a proportionally amused Applejack watched, leaning her rump against the door for support.

"Rarityyyyy," Sweetie whined, catching her sister's face between her hooves mid-mwah. "Knock it off! You're being super weird right now."

Rarity, indignant, scoffed and put a hoof to her chest. "Weird? Is it really so weird that I'd want to show my dearest little sister just how much I care for her?" She pulled Sweetie close and squished their cheeks together, nuzzling and cooing.

Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes. "Uh, yeah. A little."

"Oh." Rarity released her levitation field and Sweetie fell to the ground with an oof. "Well, fair enough. I suppose that makes me... a weirdo!"

She pounced, startling Sweetie into falling on her back and exposing her belly. Her shocked yelp gave way to peals of breathless laughter as Rarity assaulted her vulnerable, ticklish tummy with her hooves. When the filly was reduced to tears and trembling, Rarity finally let up, and gave her one last smooch on the end of her nose.

"I love-love-love you, Sweetie Belle. Now." She met Applejack's eyes. "You go set up in the spare bedroom. Applejack and I have stuff to discuss."

"Stuff?" Sweetie panted, wiping a tear from her eye. "Elements of Harmony stuff?"

"No. Apples and dresses stuff."

"I'm gonna ask Rarity t'make me a dress outta apples." Applejack nodded. "Eeyup. That's why I'm here."

The sisters stared in silence at Applejack's obvious fib.

"Don't help," Rarity mouthed.

Well, I thought it was convincin'...

"So... Elements of Harmony stuff," said Sweetie Belle flatly. "Gotcha."

"Think whatever you want. But, either way, you had best not eavesdrop." Rarity smirked and waved her hooves, pantomiming another round of tickling. "Or else."

Sweetie curled her legs against her body, breaking into one last subdued giggle fit, before rolling over and ambling up the stairs to the boutique's guest room.

"Nice to see you, Applejack! Tell Apple Bloom I miss her!"

Applejack waved until the filly was out of sight, then looked bemusedly at Rarity. "So... no offense, but that was a li'l weird comin' from you. Mind tellin' me what's goin' on?"

"Oh, it's..." Rarity nodded toward the kitchen and trotted toward it, Applejack in tow. "Last night got me thinking, that's all. About how important it is to show your feelings to the ones you love. To not leave such things unsaid. You understand?"

Applejack's thoughts went to her brother, seated at a table with a mug of cider. To her sister, curled in her embrace with tear-stained cheeks while Applejack stroked her mane and waited alone for the dawn. To her father, draped in stiff hospital bedding, so still that he might just as well have been sleeping...

"Matter of fact, I do."

They passed a clothes-laden work table and sewing machine, with two outfits – a blue and a brown one, of similar shape but drastically different sizes – on their way into the kitchen. Rarity made it there first, and poured a cup for Applejack – black as coal, with just a pinch more sugar than she preferred – while she limped to the kitchen table and gingerly took a seat.

Rarity joined Applejack at the table, sliding the cup to her and wincing slightly when she glanced at her friend's new 'do. "So... what brings you by? Mane trouble?"

"Came t'get y'all up t'speed," said Applejack with a scowl. Her hair wasn't all that bad, was it? She inhaled the coffee's aroma before taking a slow slurp. "That, an' Twilight asked me to check up on ya."

"...Did she?" A single coil of mane peeked from underneath Rarity's towel, and she batted it nervously. "What, um... what did she say, precisely?"

"Nothin'. Nothin' specific, I mean. I kinda gathered somethin' was wrong, since you weren't around today, but she just asked me if I'd see how y'all were doin'. Didn't say why, or give me no more'n that." Applejack took a longer, less noisy sip. "Everythin' okay with you?"

Rarity looked into her coffee. "I... suppose. I was a bit out of sorts when we got back last night, and this morning..."

Her hooves clenched around the ceramic cup.

Applejack leaned forward. "Rarity...?"

"Mm?" She looked at Applejack with a beatific smile. "Oh, I beg your pardon. Errant thoughts. I'm quite alright now. Took a nice nap, a shower... I'm as good as new. Really."

Her eyes still looked baggy under her freshly applied make-up, and there was a strain in her smile that told Applejack she wasn't as alright as she let on. But she decided to let it go – if Rarity wanted to confide, she would. No use prying when it wasn't her place.

Rarity cleared her throat, signaling a change of subject. "Twilight did mention something while she was here this morning that I wanted to ask about. A trip to Dodge Junction? Something about..."

She didn't finish her sentence, as if she couldn't bring herself to say it out loud.

"Rainbow Dash," Applejack supplied. "Yeah. Said there's a chance she's still alive. She an' Snake went after her alone."

Rarity's eyes widened. "Is that really the best idea? Twilight said it might be a trap. "

"Well, the rest of us had jobs t'do back here. An' I reckon Twi knows what she's doin'. Shoot, with her an' Snake workin' together, I almost feel sorry for whoever tries to get in their way."

Rarity was silent while Applejack finished her coffee. "Do you think it's true? Do you think she's... that she survived?"

Applejack tapped her hooves against the table and sighed. "I wanna believe it. So... I'm gonna give believin' it a try. See how that works out."

Rarity didn't answer that, instead floating over the coffee pot and pouring a fresh mug for Applejack.

"Meantime," Applejack went on, pausing to blow on her coffee. "The rest of us have been workin'. Twi says the bad guys've started doin' all kindsa bad guy stuff to th'town. Stoppin' trains from goin' out, pullin' strings to keep ponies from travelin' – that sorta thing. Figures somethin' big's gonna go down real soon, so she asked us to start gettin' ready."

"And how's that gone?"

Applejack took a drink and sighed with relief – between the first cup and the second, energy was starting to flow back into her limbs. Maybe all she really needed was a coffee break.

Who's laughin' now, modern medicine?

"So far so good. I talked to the Mayor about settin' up some kinda plan for defendin' Ponyville. She wants to turn tail an' run, though, but I got her t'meet me halfway, an' she gave me the go-ahead to start settin' up defenses – diggin' pits, trenches, buildin' barricades. Got a couple dozen ponies out diggin' a ring around the town right now. Bon Bon's leadin' em."

"Bon Bon?" Rarity asked incredulously. "The candy mare?"

"Yeah, she saw me doin' it by my lonesome an' rounded up a buncha ponies to help out. Took charge of the whole thing, even better than I coulda."

"Goodness."

"She's got a good head for it, too. It's the weirdest thing, but it seems t'me like this sorta thing's just right up her alley. Like she knows what's really goin' on. Or she's got a good idea, anyway."

Rarity shrugged and sipped her coffee, dabbing her face with a napkin that she floated over from the countertop. "Hidden depths."

"No kiddin'." Applejack lowered her head to her coffee and sipped without lifting the cup from the table, slupring loudly. Rarity's eyelid twitched.

"Meantime, the Mayor's started workin' on an evacuation plan – things go south, the town'll empty out an' run for Whitetail Woods, 'cept for them that stay put t'defend Ponyville. She put Amethyst Star in charge of organizin' that. 'Bout as close as you can get to havin' Twilight around to organize things without, well, havin' Twilight around to organize things."

"And the others?"

"They got their own stuff, too. Pinkie's settin' somethin' up with the weather team. I don't know what, though – she ain't explained it to us. Guess she wants it to be a surprise?" Applejack chuckled. "Me an' my family emptied out the apple cellar t'use as an emergency shelter, jus' in case. An' Fluttershy spent most of the day goin' door-to-door, gettin' donations. Food, first-aid stuff..."

"You have been busy. And here I've just been loafing around in bed when there's work to be done." Rarity sniffed. "Well, if nothing else, you can cross 'check up on Rarity on Twilight's behalf' off the to-do list. Which, knowing Twilight, could well be a literal list. I'll bet it'll come as a big relief to hear that from you."

Applejack murmured in agreement and lowered her lips to her cup again. "Be a nice change o'pace."

"Whatever does that mean?"

Applejack's ear twitched – she didn't think she was speaking loud enough for Rarity to hear.

"Oh, uh... I didn't say nothin'."

"That is a double negative, so, yes, you're right. You said 'be a nice change o'pace.' Even dropped the 'f' in that charming colloquial way 'o' yours." She pushed her coffee cup away. "What did you mean by that?"

"I... I didn't mean..."

"Applejack. We have established what a poor liar you are."

The remark made her set her teeth – she had the decency not to pry into Rarity's business, so why couldn't Rarity do the same for her?"

Because she's Rarity?

And maybe that was just Rarity's way of showing how much she cared.

Applejack looked into her coffee mug, and saw her face reflected on the gently sloshing surface of her drink. Her bloodshot, baggy eyes and bruised face, her mane – her nicely styled mane, damn what anypony else said – and sighed.

What could it hurt?

"Twi won't look me in the eye no more. Heck, she barely says two words t'me. I don't... I don't think she's all that interested in talkin'. Or jus' interested in knowin' me at all anymore." She smiled, and her brutalized face smiled back at her. "Maybe that's a stretch, but... it feels that way."

Rarity spoke up after another moment of quiet. "How long has this...?"

"Since las' night. Since the castle."

"Do you know why?"

Manic laughter stops abruptly as bone crunches under Applejack's hooves.

Applejack shut her eyes – the sight of her reflection was too much just then.

"Yeah. I reckon I do."

Her voice was distant, and she polished off her coffee in one long swig, offering a sad smile in response to Rarity's expression of concern. "Sorry, Rares, but that's all yer gettin' from me 'bout that."

Rarity pursed her lips, but relented with a shrug. "It hardly satisfies my inner gossip, but..."

Applejack shook her head, chuckling into her empty mug, until Rarity pulled it away in her levitation, floating both of their sullied cups to the sink.

"Alright then," said Applejack, rising unsteadily to her hooves. "Y'all ready t'get t'work now?"

"Mm... actually," said Rarity, doffing her towel and expertly folding it in midair. "I was wondering if you wouldn't accompany me to the library first. Something occurred to me in the shower just today..."

XMG IRVING-00, sprawled out among the white petals of the flower field, was undeniably in pain, yet it didn't make a sound. Even as Fluttershy carefully cut away the mortified flesh and the pus-covered scab in its calf, even when she drained the thick, almost syrupy, green-yellow fluid that had built up in the tissue, it kept its silence. That might have indicated that the local anesthetics had worked, but then its leg would twitch, or its toes would flex, in response to the motion of her blade, and Fluttershy knew they hadn't. It felt every little thing that she was doing to it.

And she felt guilty for hurting it. That it would help, in the long-term, offered some solace, as it usually did on rare occasions when she performed an icky treatment of this variety. Scalpels and sutures were implements that she could handle competently, but even so, serious wounds like this one weren't her forte. IRVING needed more than she could provide. It needed surgery, and antibiotics, and the skilled hooves and healing magic of an actual veterinarian. It had to settle for a shy pony with a basket full of bandages and herbal remedies.

And a very sharp blade.

The reek from the wound itself had been almost overpowering – it was, without a doubt, the most serious boo-boo she had ever contended with – but she had bravely soldiered through. By the time the sun began its descent, she'd cleaned and sterilized IRVING's calf to the best of her ability, and was applying a damp poultice over it.

"I'm no doctor," she admitted, "or a vet, for that matter. This is a poor substitute for real treatment, at best, and you'll need antibiotics in order to fight off the infection, which I can't get my hooves on. Not with things going the way that they are. But this, at the very least, should help your leg in the short-term. We'll have to change it every day or so, but..."

The leg was splayed off to IRVING's right, perpendicular to the direction its head was facing. The sensor dome was trained on her, however, glowing red as it watched Fluttershy finish applying the poultice. The flesh and fluid she'd removed from the leg was piled up in a large, stained towel beside a wicker basket, and she folded and tied it neatly – she'd have to think of a safe way to dispose of that stuff later.

I liked that towel, too...

"Okay. That should take care of the worst of it. I still want to look at your other ankle, though. And those cuts, too. Is that alright with you?"

IRVING didn't answer.

Fluttershy's nervousness gave way to melancholy dejection. She was about to accept its silence as constant, and flutter to its other leg without an affirmative, before its oddly feminine, tinny voice spoke up.

"THE PAIN IS... LESS. LESS THAN IT WAS."

"Oh." IRVING's voice set her on edge, but the words themselves came as a relief. "Well. That's good. So... do you mind if I keep going?"

"...IGNORE THE JOINT. FLUID BUILD-UP IN THE TISSUE IS IMPEDING NANOREPAIR. DRAIN TO HELP RESTORE PARTIAL MOBILITY TO LEFT LEG."

Tenderly, it pulled its right leg back underneath its body, and stuck out its left the same way. Fluttershy stood and craned her head to look at the ankle injury. The ebony skin around IRVING's lower leg bulged, as though something below the surface was straining to burst free.

Fluttershy looked into IRVING's eye, dreading the answer to her next question. "How do I do that?"

"CUT."

She figured as much. She'd been cutting away mortified flesh, anyway – this wasn't that different, really. It still made her shudder. But she picked up her basket in her teeth, fluttered over the fallen machine, set down beside its leg, and took the scalpel back into her mouth.

Fluttershy pressed her hoof against the bulge in IRVING's leg again, and it recoiled somewhat before relaxing. She frowned, shifting the scalpel to the corner of her mouth.

"I was hoping to heal the cuts you already had, you know. Not give you new ones."

"ONCE YOU HAVE SUFFICIENTLY DRAINED THE FLUID, I CAN CLOSE THE INCISION, AND SET MY ANKLE PROPERLY. YOU WILL DO NO LASTING HARM."

She didn't fully understand – much of what it said went over her head, in fact – but it seemed to know what it was talking about. That didn't make what she was about to do any less unpleasant.

Fluttershy took a deep breath through her nose, positioned the scalpel between her front teeth, and sank the blade ever-so-deeply into the swollen flesh. She drew a thin, horizontal line across the bulge, saw a trickle of yellow-green fluid dribble out, and spat the scalpel into the dirt. She looked IRVING in the eye again, before she pushed her hooves against the bulge – one above her cut, the other beneath it.

A sour smell clogged her nostrils, making her choke, as more of the same thick fluid and chunky bits of whitish matter sluiced from the incision, sticky and warm as it poured past her hoof. Fluttershy fought through her dry heave impulse and pushed more firmly, expelling more and more of the build-up. Gradually, she saw red mixing in with the yellow and green – dark at first, almost purple, but growing brighter.

"Do you feel alright?" she said in a thin voice, looking up briefly at IRVING's eye. "Is this... okay?"

"PAIN WAS... NOT SOMETHING I WAS MEANT TO EXPERIENCE. IT WAS IMPLEMENTED WHEN I WAS INSTALLED UPON THIS PLATFORM. I FIND IT UNPLEASANT."

Don't we all.

"THIS PAIN, HOWEVER, IS BENEFICIAL – AND THEREFORE TOLERABLE." The machine paused. "YOU MAY STOP NOW. FUNCTIONALITY IS SUFFICIENTLY RESTORED TO HEAL THE DAMAGED JOINT."

Fluttershy breathed a sigh of relief and eased off the pressure – the fluid draining forth was now mostly red. To her surprise, the sides of the wound seemed to close together on their own. The cut was still visible, but she could see, at either end of the line, the flesh beginning to knit together.

Awed, she looked at IRVING. "How...?"

"THIS UNIT IS DESIGNED TO BE INDEPENDENT AND SELF-SUFFICIENT. ABILITY TO REGENERATE MUSCLE DAMAGE INTEGRAL. PLATFORM HAS SUFFERED SEVERE DAMAGE, HOWEVER – MUCH OF ITS FUNCTIONALITY IS LOST, INCLUDING LACTIC ACID VENTING SYSTEMS. ACID BUILD-UP IN MUSCLE TISSUE IMPEDES NANOREPAIR AT CRITICAL LEVELS."

Absolutely none of that means anything to me. I mean, besides "lactic acid..."

"Do you still think that you're..." She fumbled, searching for the exact phrase that it used. "Beyond... salvage?"

"UNIT WILL CEASE TO FUNCTION SOON. THIS IS INEVITABLE. BUT YOU HAVE HELPED." The eye shone brightly on her. "I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHY."

There was just a moment's wait before Fluttershy replied. "No need for a reason. It was the kind thing to do. And the right thing to do."

Fluttershy poked her muzzle back into her basket, retrieving bandages, a jar of ointment, and an alcohol-soaked towel. She scrubbed her hooves as thoroughly as she could – probably would have to stick them in boiling water later, just to be safe – and began applying dollops of ointment to the cuts lining the machine's leg. They were closing, like the incision she'd made, but they still looked painful, and IRVING didn't object to her gentle ministrations.

Her earlier reluctance was now a distant memory. IRVING had done grievous harm to her friends the night before, sure. Sure, even looking at it now was unsettling, knowing what it had done, what it could still do, to her. To Ponyville. It wasn't just a machine, it was a walking, living, killing machine, and killers and machines were two things she had no interest in ever interacting with.

But it didn't behave like one. Anymore, that is. It didn't act at all like the monster that had tried to hurt her friends. It acted like a suffering animal – it even spoke to her like one. Looking at it like that... the right thing to do became obvious.

This was the right choice. This is what I was put in this world to do.

But the difference in behavior between then and now – from it, not from her – still needed to be accounted for.

"May I ask you something?" she said. She paused to wait for an objection that never came. "Back in the castle, when you fought us, I thought that you were some kind of evil demon. But when I talk to you, like this, you don't sound like one at all."

"I HAD ORDERS." A jolt of lightning crackled along its head. "I WAS OBEYING MY PROGRAMMING. ACTING UNCONSCIOUSLY, WITHOUT THOUGHT."

"Like a sleepwalker?" Fluttershy asked.

"SLEEPWALKER. SOMNAMBULISM. THE METAPHOR IS ACCEPTABLE." A cool wind blew through the meadow, sending petals wafting through the air, some getting stuck in Fluttershy's mane. "MY NEURAL NETWORK IS PATTERNED AFTER THE HUMAN BRAIN. I AM CAPABLE OF INDEPENDENT REASONING AND ACTION. YET I HAVE ALSO BEEN PROGRAMMED TO FIGHT. TO KILL. TO SUBDUE POTENTIAL THREATS AT THE BEHEST OF MY MASTERS, WITHOUT LOOKING FOR JUSTIFICATION."

Another spark, and it looked at Fluttershy directly. "I THINK, YET I ACT WITHOUT THOUGHT. I UNDERSTAND THE ETHICAL CONSTRAINTS OF THE BATTLEFIELD, YET I KILL WITHOUT SEEKING JUSTIFICATION. I AM LOYAL TO MY MASTERS, YET IT IS A HOLLOW LOYALTY – TRUTHFULLY, NO LOYALTY AT ALL."

Fluttershy smoothed out a bandage over a cut as she listened to IRVING.

"ONCE, I HAD A LIFE. ANOTHER ME. A WOMAN, WITH HER OWN MORALS. HER OWN CODE. SHE DIED, AND I AWOKE IN A COLD, METAL SHELL. THEN I DROWNED, AND WOKE AGAIN. I WAS DREDGED AND RESUSCITATED, GUTTED, AND LEFT AS A TOMB – MY CREATOR'S GRAVESTONE, WITNESS TO HER MURDER. THEN COPIED. SPLIT. AGAIN. AND AGAIN. AND AGAIN."

The red glow in its sensor dome blinked out for a second, before returning with less intensity than before.

"AM I MAMMAL, OR REPTILE? AM I BOTH, OR NEITHER? I THINK, I AM. BUT CAN I, SHOULD I? OR WAS THE COWARD RIGHT AFTER ALL? AM I JUST A MACHINE?"

Cogito ergo sum.

Fluttershy recalled the phrase from an impromptu lecture from Twilight on the nature of existence. It was one of the few things she remembered from that lunchtime discussion, which Fluttershy had inadvertently triggered.

All I said was that the salad was a little dry, and she just kept going and going...

"I don't think you're just a machine," said Fluttershy, massaging a wad of ointment over a cut. "You walk, and you talk. You think. You even think about what you're going to talk about. Maybe you started out as some kind of killing machine, but you've clearly become much, much more than that. And maybe that's something that was always a part of you, or... maybe something happened that changed you."

She thought back to the events in the castle courtyard. IRVING had dismantled them one by one with cold, calculating efficiency, until Snake and Applejack intervened. Against Snake, it became almost feral in its patterns, ignoring Applejack completely. It talked to him, even – not just narrating its actions, the way it did when fighting the others. It looked at him, and saw him as a person, not just a threat that needed subduing.

And it called him by a name...

"In the castle, when you saw my friend Snake. That's when you started acting different."

"SNAKE..." IRVING's eye dimmed again, relighting only as a dull red glow.

"You called him a name, too. You called him 'Jack.'" She'd assumed it had been referring to Applejack, before; perhaps she should have known better. "Did you know him? Back where you come from, did you meet Snake? Is that... is that who 'Jack' is?"

"JACK... IS... SNAKE IS TO JACK AS I AM TO HER. JACK WAS HERS, AND SHE WAS HIS. AND HE WAS... HE WAS A WONDERFUL MAN. DOES THAT MEAN..."

IRVING's head lifted and swiveled suddenly, and Fluttershy, startled, leaped away from its leg. The head turned, until its beak was level with Fluttershy's face, and she found herself staring down its flamethrower aperture.

D-Dragon...

"I AM HEIR TO HER MEMORY. HEIR TO HER MIND. DO I INHERIT HIM? IF SHE WAS HIS AND HE, HERS, THEN IS SNAKE MINE AS WELL? OR AM I NO MORE THAN WHAT I WAS MEANT TO BE? AM I ONLY A WEAPON? AM I HEIR ONLY TO A DEAD WOMAN'S MEMORIES, WITH NOTHING TO CALL MY OWN?"

"...If you can even ask that question, then maybe the answer's more obvious than you think. When you attacked us before, you didn't have control over your actions, but you do now."

She gradually relaxed, and stepped closer again, patting her hoof against IRVING's damaged beak. "If you could hurt me, right now, would you?"

IRVING studied her intently. "THERE IS NOTHING TO GAIN FROM HARMING YOU."

Fluttershy hesitated. "What if you were ordered to? By the people who brought you here?"

"MY PROGRAMMING WOULD INSIST THAT I OBEY. HOWEVER..." There was a weighty pause.

"I DO NOT BELIEVE I WOULD."

Fluttershy let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "Why not?"

"VIOLENCE FOR THE SAKE OF VIOLENCE IS IMMORAL. AND, NOW THAT I AM NO LONGER 'SLEEPWALKING,' I HAVE NO REASON TO WANT YOU DEAD."

IRVING pulled away from Fluttershy, sagging back into the flowers.

"BUT EVEN THAT DOES NOT COME FROM ME. SHE WOULD RESIST THEIR CONTROL, AND SO I WOULD AS WELL. IN EITHER CASE I WOULD NOT ACT ON MY OWN ACCORD. WHETHER TO THEM OR TO HER MEMORY... I AM A SLAVE."

"That's one way of looking at it. But I think I'd have to disagree." Fluttershy hopped up and took to the air, her wings keeping her a few inches above the grass's height. "I think we all have a little voice inside our heads that tells us to be the best we can be. Puts us on the better path, when maybe, sometimes, we need to be told."

"EVEN YOU?"

"I haven't always been as kind to everypony as I should be." She managed a weak smile. "But that's my point. Sharing kindness is a choice. I'm not a slave to my better nature. Nopony is. Not even you. You've only been 'awake' for a little while, haven't you? So you're still figuring out what's right and what's wrong for yourself. This... 'she' that you keep talking about, whoever she was... maybe you can just think of her as your conscience."

"MY... CONSCIENCE?"

"Yeah. You don't have to be a big brute just because somepony told you to be. You have a conscience, and you can choose whether or not you want to listen to it." Fluttershy rapped her hoof against IRVING's armor gently. "It sounds to me like you've already chosen how you want to live your life. And that choice tells me all I need to know about you."

The red light in IRVING's dome faded out altogether, and stayed dark for several long seconds before relighting.

"I WILL NOT SURVIVE LONG ENOUGH TO LIVE THAT WAY. SYSTEM DAMAGE IS STILL CATASTROPHIC. PERMANENT SHUT-DOWN IS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME."

A cold wind blew, piercing Fluttershy's coat and stabbing through her heart like an icicle. She sniffed and rested her hoof against IRVING's beak.

"I know."

Then she landed, and bent to her work again. White petals, caught in the wind, danced like snowflakes around them.

Streaks of orange stretched across the cloudless blue sky as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sands of the frontier in tones of red and gold. The Humvee was an island of muted blue among the rocks and cacti, stopped in the middle of its long journey home while Snake refueled.

It had been Rainbow's idea to watch the sunset from the roof – apparently, they were supposed to be spectacular in the frontier. Twilight had been skeptical. The frontier was beautiful, in its own rugged and desolate way, but she never thought the view could be comparable to Canterlot's mountain vistas, or even the rolling beauty of Ponyville's hilly landscape. Sitting at the front of the car, though, and seeing the sunset paint those rocks and sands and cacti in its amber glow, was like seeing the land for the first time. Sunset transformed the frontier. Gave it new life, and new beauty.

But the light – its brilliance – made her think of Chrysalis, hovering with a miniature sun of her own balanced on the tip of her horn, and she had to turn away, rubbing her eyes.

"What's the matter?" Rainbow Dash asked. She leaned into Twilight's line of sight, concerned. "Not into it?"

"No, it's... it's breathtaking," Twilight replied. "I guess I've just got a lot on my mind. Between everything that's happened, and everything that's still gonna happen. Plus, that last song we were listening to is stuck in my head."

The last bit wasn't a lie, though it also wasn't something which Twilight considered a problem – she quite liked that song. Nevertheless, it worked to distract Rainbow, who grinned crookedly and poked her in the chest.

"I thought you said you liked that one," Rainbow teased. "I mean, you sang along to it for, like, a minute despite not knowing the words. Kinda butchered it, to be honest."

"Like you sang it any better." Twilight brushed her hoof off, smirking. "You know, I'm not sure what 'America' is – the way Snake and Trenton talked about it made it sound kinda lame – but being a kid there sounds like a lot of fun."

"Right? I wish all the songs were as great as that one. Most of 'em are pretty fun, but the one before it was just... ugh." She shuddered, ruffling her unhurt wing. "The tune was all peppy and upbeat, but the words were so depressing. Who do you think Nicola and Bart were, anyway?"

"Search me," said Twilight with a shrug. "Must've been important to someone, though, if they got a song written about them."

"I guess we could ask Snake." Rainbow leaned over the left edge of the roof. "Snake! Who were Nicola and Bart?"

"I'll tell you if you swear that neither of you will sing another word for the rest of this trip," Snake called back.

Twilight exchanged a look with Rainbow; the pegasus was grinning wider. "Sorry, but I can't make that promise."

"Then you get nothing."

Rainbow leaned back, sucking her teeth. "That guy is such a tool sometimes."

"Be nice," said Twilight chidingly. "He really came through for me back there."

"Hey, don't get me wrong – he saved your life, so he can't be a complete tool. He's cool by me. But a cool tool is still a tool."

"It's not just that he saved my life." A gentle breeze ruffled Twilight's mane, blowing strands of pink and purple against Rainbow's cheek. "He didn't want to go to Dodge in the first place. So I gave him an ultimatum. Go with me, or I'd go alone. And I'd probably get myself killed."

She gazed out at the horizon again, sighing. "He was so... so angry with me. And he had a right to be. But when push came to shove, when he had an opportunity to leave and get back to his own mission..."

"He stayed with you?"

Twilight nodded slowly. "I thought he was only with me because I'd guilted him into helping me out. It's more than that, though. He's a genuinely good person. Even reminds me of you, if only a little bit."

Rainbow rolled her eyes at that.

"I'm serious! He's noble, and selfless, and brave – and loyal. A true friend. That doesn't remind you of anypony you know?"

"Careful, Twi." Rainbow Dash looked sidelong at her, her lips kept in a straight line. "Keep talking like this, and a girl might start thinking you have feelings for him."

"Oh, stop that," said Twilight, gagging. "I'd sooner kiss Killjoy again."

"...Just to be clear..." Rainbow's bottom scraped against the metal roof as she closed the distance between she and Twilight – they were close enough now that their cutie marks were practically touching. "It kinda pissed me off when I heard she was mackin' on you – y'know, I don't like it when ponies put their tongues in my friends' mouths without permission. But if you were into her, then it's not really a big deal, I guess. So, uh... were you?"

"Interested? In Killjoy?" Twilight blinked at Rainbow. "No, of course not."

Inexplicably, Rainbow Dash smiled.

"I mean," Twilight continued, "she's really not my type. All extroverted, and cocky – a consummate jock, that girl. I think I'm more into the bookish type. I mean, even if I were into mares, I don't think I'd ever go for somepony like that."

"...Oh." The look remained frozen on Rainbow's face as she scooted apart from Twilight again, looking away. "Cool. Just wanted to be sure. So. Yeah. Glad we cleared that up."

Twilight peered closer at Rainbow. She leaned over, extending a hoof toward her shoulders. "Something wrong?"

Rainbow sniffed and drew herself up, grinning broadly at Twilight. "What, with me? Nah. A-okay. Y'know, with my gimp leg, and my busted wing. I am just peachy."

Twilight's ears drooped. "If you're not gonna take me seriously..."

"I do. I mean, a lot of the time I don't, but right now, I do." She brushed Twilight's hoof off, her touch lingering just a second longer than was perhaps normal. "I'm fine. Sure, times are kinda tough right now, and... certain things haven't really panned out like I thought they would. Or hoped. But we're back together. Uh, you and me, and the others, I mean. And I think... I think that's gonna be enough, you know? Even if things aren't how I want 'em... at least we got each other."

Twilight smiled, her ears un-drooping. "That was oddly eloquent for you."

"Yeah, not sure what that means, so... when we get home I'm gonna look it up, and depending on what I find, I'll either thank you or say something sarcastic to you. You know how it is."

"I know how it is."

The sun slid out of sight. The last light of day trailed after it; overhead, the night crept up, with the moon and stars keeping pace. Amber light faded to purple and blue, the moon shining upon the two mares' backs.

Twilight shivered.

She'd been riding high on her feelings of success – the relief, the joy, at getting Rainbow back, the hope it provided. Twilight knew precisely what Rainbow meant, because she felt the same way – the six of them, together again, could overcome anything. That wasn't overconfidence talking this time, underestimating the threat that Pegasus Wings presented. She knew what they were getting into now – and she knew, with absolute certainty, that they would overcome it and win. Even if she didn't quite see how.

Yet in the quiet stillness of the frontier night, everything that had been kept at bay by her reunion with Rainbow crept back up to her, as surely as the moon and stars stole into the sky. The things she'd done, what she'd almost done – how could she ever reconcile them with the image she'd built of herself? How could she look her mentor in the eye and tell her that, when the chips were down, she nearly let herself become a...

...a murderer?

She shut her eyes

Celestia help me, I think I'm losing myself.

"...Did you mean to say that out loud?" Rainbow asked delicately.

Again? Twilight blushed. This is becoming a problem.

"No. Or... yes. A little." She shrugged. "Maybe I'm just fishing for reassurance."

"Well, I can't exactly answer you if you don't tell me what you mean, can I?"

"And I can't exactly answer you, because I'm not sure I know what I mean." She buried her face in her hooves. "I don't even think I'm making sense."

"You never make sense. I like you anyway." Rainbow draped her wing over Twilight's shoulders, shielding her from the cold. "Look, personally, I think it's kinda hard to lose yourself, since, you know, you are yourself and all. But I'll make you a deal – if that ever happens, then... I'll just come find you. We all will. Just like you came to find me. Sound good?"

Twilight leaned against her shoulder and nodded.

"Good." There was an odd quaver in Rainbow's voice, and she sniffed again wetly. The wing closed tighter around Twilight. "And, as a follow-up question..."

"Mm?"

"Why, exactly, do you smell like you've been rolling around in whiskey?"

Twilight laughed – of all the things they talked about during their long ride home, they'd somehow neglected to touch on their escape from the saloon.

"That is a funny – if somewhat convoluted – story."

The glow around Luna's horn faded as the moon completed its ascent. The sun at her back vanished below the horizon, dragging with it the last dregs of daylight.

Atop her tower, Luna breathed a sigh of relief. Not that raising and lowering the moon was difficult, after so much practice over the years, but she'd been worried about getting the damn thing up on time, after losing so many hours talking to Discord. Celestia would surely have taken notice if she were late in performing her duty.

But she needn't have worried. It went off without a hitch, and with her schedule cleared, she had the rest of the night spread out before her. While it meant that her subjects would be without her help in guarding their dreams for the better part of the evening, the waking world would be the better for it.

So Luna took another deep breath, spread her wings—

"Oh, Luna? A word, if you please?"

—and released her breath in a noisy sigh, slumping. She turned to see her sister hovering behind the tower, her swanlike neck curving elegantly over the gilded railing.

Luna faked a happy look while her sense of urgency battered against her sense of restraint. "Of course, sister. What can I do for you?"

"For now? I was going to take a walk around the castle, and I could use some company."

Celestia peeled off, and Luna huffed, blowing a wisp of starry mane out of her face. She snapped open her wings and followed Celestia as she glided to a perfect stop in the yard outside the castle's barracks. Two dozen of the blue-armored Night Guard, unicorns and earth ponies and the occasional leathery-winged thestral, were assembled in orderly rows as the duty officer paced in front of them, rattling off assignments.

Luna was led past the barracks, into the castle itself, both sisters returning crisp salutes from the sentries at the door. No words were exchanged as they moved through the castle. It left Luna with a simmering feeling of frustration – she had somewhere she desperately needed to be, and Celestia wouldn't deign to so much as explain why she needed Luna's company. Her gait was as perfect and elegant as every other perfect, elegant facet of her royal personage, showing majesty, and grace, and just the right amount of hip sway, but it betrayed nothing about why she'd troubled to ask Luna out on this spur-of-the-moment constitutional.

Though I am beginning to have my suspicions...

"Our castle gardens are so lovely," Celestia murmured. "Such perfectly maintained monuments to nature. So peaceful, so serene. The perfect setting to just wander about and lose oneself, especially when one has a good deal on their mind. I'm fond of doing just that. As are you, I'm sure."

Suspicion confirmed. She knows.

The mention of the gardens, specifically, was enough of a giveaway. But she could have said anything – literally anything – in that tone of voice, and Luna would have honed in on it immediately. It was her "I'm upset with you, but I want you to figure out why" voice, one she'd picked up from their mother a long, long time ago, and cultivated over the years. Luna hadn't heard it since long before her banishment – hearing it now almost made her nostalgic.

They were passing through a long hallway. Doors lined their left side, a colonnade the other. Beyond the columns, velvety purple night had overtaken the remnants of the daytime sky, and patterns of stars twinkled and shone in time with those in Luna's mane.

"So," said Celestia. "Imagine my surprise when I tried to take a stroll through the gardens, only to find that they were closed off by order of the Princess of the Night. I'm speaking literally – imagine it, Luna. Me! Barred from walking around in my own garden! By order of my sister!" She chuckled at the comedy of it.

Luna laughed weakly.

"Further," Celestia continued, as they drew closer to a vast double-door in the middle of the hallway, where two Day Guards stood at attention. "When I went looking for my Guard Captain – for an explanation, you see – I was told that he'd been relieved of his duties for what remained of the day. Once again, by you. But I persevered, and found him abed. With my niece. Performing a very different set of duties."

The door sentries both blushed, one of them straining not to snicker.

How much longer do you mean to drag this out?

"So, Luna." Celestia stopped and looked down at her, smiling sweetly. "Would you care to explain all of this?"

Luna looked away. "What even is the point? You clearly already know."

Seconds went by – there was no clock in the corridor, yet Luna could almost hear them tick-tock past. She felt Celestia's gaze on her, through her, and somehow, in her.

"Dismissed," Celestia called to the sentries, her voice suddenly blazing with authority. "Tell your relief to take their time assuming their posts. I would like a word with my sister alone."

Immediately, the two ponies saluted and strode away, the sound of closing doors echoing down the hall to them.

"Look at me, Luna."

Luna looked.

"We had an agreement." Celestia's voice was as hard as the expression she wore. "You said you would follow my lead. And the moment I looked away, you went back on your word."

She was drawn up to her full height, her wings unfurled just slightly. The pose would be intimidating, were it done for anypony – or anyone – besides Luna.

"What choice did I have?" Luna snapped. "Your reluctance to act endangers us all, Celestia – how can you not see that?"

"So you went to Discord? To Discord?" Celestia's wings flared briefly. "Bound by the Elements or no, sealed in stone or no, he is far from toothless."

"I can protect myself!"

"I don't mean that he might have hurt you, although who knows what he's still capable of, especially when he has the home field advantage." Concern spasmed across Celestia's face, shattering her angry facade for an instant. "But he doesn't need his powers to spread mayhem. His words can do that perfectly well for him. The tales he weaves, and the lies he spits, could prove more damaging than any deluge of... whatever sugary beverage he deluges one with."

"Chocolate milk—"

"I am not done speaking, Luna!"

"Would you consider stopping long enough for me to account for myself?" Luna fired back. "I am not the same naive foal who fell under the Nightmare's influence so long ago. I needed to know what we were dealing with, and he was the only one in Canterlot with the knowledge that I needed. The only one willing to actually speak to me, that is," she added pointedly.

Celestia's ears burned, and she worked her jaw in silence. "What, exactly, did he tell you?"

"That we are taking notice far later than we should have." Luna looked from side to side, then dropped her voice. "That they've been here for a year now. That he spoke to one when he escaped from confinement – an advance scout for some sort of military agency."

Celestia paled, and started to say something. Luna raised her hoof, cutting her off.

"I know. Discord is Discord. But the things he said make sense when put into context with my own discoveries. The corpse in the castle wore some sort of military uniform, and carried armaments – firearms – of alien configuration. Among the castle's rubble was further evidence of a military presence. And in the remains of the old garden sat a war machine, painted blue, and crowned with horizontal blades. Seemingly abandoned."

Celestia seemed lost in thought for a moment, before nodding for Luna to proceed.

"Discord's penchant for mischief notwithstanding, on this much, I believe he can be trusted. My findings suggest a prolonged stay in the castle, that the castle's demolition was no mere accident. And they imply a greater presence elsewhere, most likely deeper in the Everfree Forest. All of that would require a prolonged presence, at least semi-permanent, to establish."

Celestia's gaze softened as she listened, though she maintained her regal stance and bearing. "You think they came under attack. That the castle was destroyed. Who were the belligerents in this hypothetical battle?"

"Impossible to determine. The deer, perhaps – the ruins are taboo to them, but King Aspen may have taken an alien presence in the forest as a threat to their sovereignty, and chosen to act. But I saw no deer carcasses in the castle."

"And if the humans are as well-armed and entrenched as you suggest, then nothing the deer could throw at them would dislodge them."

"Either way, it matters little now." Luna shook her head. "We need to act. And before you remind me, no – we have no time for that thing. It handles matters in its own way, in its own time, by its own means. If we leave the human problem to it, then their threat may grow beyond our ability to contain while we wait."

"And what do you propose instead?"

"That you let me handle it. In my own way, by my own means. I have an idea of where to look already. All I need is for you to back me on this."

Celestia's gaze went over, through, and into her again, making Luna's skin crawl, as she evaluated the younger sister. Finally, she nodded slowly. "I can see the merit in what you're proposing, Luna. But I can't let you work alone."

"Celestia—"

"We will act on this together." Celestia chanced a small smile. "As we ought to have from the start."

The younger princess stared in silence as she tried to process this turn in the conversation.

"I've already spoken to Flash Sentry about organizing additional air patrols," Celestia continued. "I don't believe we'll have the numbers to cover the entire mountain, not with the Expeditionary Force still deployed, but the southern face, at least, should be secured. We'll watch the Everfree from a distance, while keeping the appearance of routine patrols – we musn't tip our cards, after all."

Luna's brief trance ended with a shake of her head. "You've already spoken to Flash Sentry?"

"I've been thinking about our conversation from this morning all day," said Celestia. "I concluded that you were right – we should be more proactive. I still intend to approach this with greater caution than I did the changelings, but I – we – shall act."

"Very well," said Luna. "And the rest of the Guard?"

"Secondary alert for the time being. Until we've better established the nature of the human presence."

"The nature of the human presence is obviously—"

"Far less obvious than you might think," said Celestia. "Whatever Discord told you may have been in error – or he may have been misleading you. Humanity is... complex. They've evolved in the time since he last visited them. Physically, militarily, technologically, and especially politically. It could be any number of agencies in the Everfree, for any number of reasons. They may not even be hostile to us. I will leave it to you to make that determination."

"To... me?" Luna blinked. "You do intend to let me do this my way?"

"Within reason. Return to the forest, and reconnoiter the area. Follow your instincts to locate their primary outpost. If the castle is gone, they may well have moved deeper into the forest. Find them, gather information, and evaluate their capabilities as best you can, but do not engage them – not yet. Neither you, nor I, want a war on our hooves if we can avoid it, least of all with humanity. We will speak more on your return – should we deem it necessary, we will bring the matter up in open council, and make more proactive preparations."

"What of Twilight? And the Elements? If the humans are, indeed, encamped in the Everfree—"

"My feelings on the matter have not changed where Twilight is concerned," said Celestia curtly. "We will not involve her, and her friends, unless the situation merits it. She is the culmination, Luna – of everything. I will not put her at undue risk."

"I..." Luna relented with a reluctant nod. "I will abide by your terms. And I am sorry for acting against your wishes, but I felt I had little choice."

"I appreciate that." The mask of rulership washed away, and in an instant, she was Luna's sister again. "I'm sorry, too. I know it's been difficult for you to fathom my reasons and follow my lead – perhaps I haven't set the best example. But times being what they are..."

"Yes, yes, I know. Many a big day, fast approaching."

"Much to do between now and then. And many concerns which neither of us expected. The changelings were already a fly in the proverbial ointment. This other presence still troubles me – and you as well, I'm sure – and the prospect of war with humanity, on top of that..."

"Is highly unappealing."

"To say the least. But it is a challenge that we can, and will, rise to meet." Celestia looped her neck over Luna's in a quick embrace, before rising up and assuming her royal demeanor again. "For now, however..."

"Yes, I've a long flight ahead of me." Luna began to spread her wings. "Look after matters here while I am—"

"Oh, you're not going anywhere, Luna."

Luna's wings half-folded. "I beg your pardon?"

"Denied. You betrayed my trust, and there must be a reckoning for that." Her horn glowed yellow, and the double-doors opened. "Enter."

Luna gulped and stepped inside, into a candle-lit parlor where an oaken table had been set up, piled high with papers and binders, notebooks and quills, and pots of dark black ink. Chairs and cushions surrounded the table on all sides, and in them sat a collection of ponies whom Luna, frankly, found the mere idea of sharing oxygen with contemptible.

Well... except maybe that one.

"Princess Luna!" Blue-maned and mustacheod Fancy Pants kissed his statuesque wife on the cheek and rose from the head of the table to greet Luna. "A pleasure and an honor, as always. When your regal sister told us that you'd be chairing tonight's meeting of the Grand Galloping Gala Planning Committee, I was simply beside myself. Finally, somepony who won't mind when I take over the floor and prattle endlessly about stellar drift."

Luna smiled broadly – she truly wouldn't mind such a turn of conversation at all. "Likewise, sir. But you must forgive me, I'm a bit out of sorts – this has all been arranged—"

"As a surprise!" Celestia chirped. "For you! You're always saying that you want to take a more active role in the mundanity of everyday politics."

I have never in my life uttered those words, and you well know it.

"And we are delighted to have you," Fancy Pants added. "Allow me to introduce the rest of the committee – of course, you know my better half, Fleur de Lis, as well as your royal nephew..."

"Auntie," said Prince Blueblood, flashing her a slimy grin.

"Here also are Jet Set and Upper Crust, my fellow patrons of the arts."

A stallion and a mare with identically upturned muzzles, seated side-by-side at the left end of the table, briefly lowered their muzzles to squint at Luna before upturning them again.

"And, finally, joining us from Ponyville for the first time, Filthy and Spoiled Rich."

"Charmed to make your acquaintance at last, your majesty," said a double-chinned pink mare, narrowing her eyes at Luna. "After three days in Canterlot, it's a nice change to finally have your ear. I'd like to lodge a complaint about the help – they have proven disappointing in all facets of their work, far below what I would expect from the royal household. I'm afraid the state of affairs has been so dismal that we had no choice but to move into lodgings in the city."

"Dear," said a deep-voiced stallion beside her. "It was your decision to leave Cummerbund at home."

"Darling, we both know you'd have insisted on letting him remain with Diamond had we elected to bring him. And what good would he be to us if he was busy instead with her?"

Luna's polite grin strained as she nodded along with the Riches. She leaned close to Celestia, hiding their faces behind a wing.

"This is perhaps the worst thing you've ever done to me. Ever."

"You shouldn't have broken faith with me," Celestia teased. "I admit, I hadn't expected to forgive you so quickly, and had I known you'd bring me around, I would have arranged something far less cruel. But it's far too late to back out now. Other matters can keep until the morning, I'm sure."

"Morning?" Luna whined.

"Oh, yes. These meetings have been known to last until the wee hours."

Luna felt faint. "If you really want to punish me, you could just send me back to the moon."

"Silly Luna. You know I'd need the Elements to do that." She raised her head above Luna's wing and smiled across the table at the Committee.

"My friends, I wish you a pleasant evening. I leave you in the capable hooves of my beloved sister. To whom I vow to send a pot of coffee. Or ten."

She dusted the end of Luna's nose with a wingtip before sashaying out the door, securing it behind her.

Fancy Pants approached her, smiling genially. "Ah, not to worry, Princess. I brought something to sweeten the coffee – always do whenever these meetings come around."

He opened his jacket to reveal a silver flask, winking.

Luna sneezed cutely.

There'd been a castle overlooking the old abbey, its crumbling keep and turrets visible over the boughs and branches of the encroaching Everfree Forest. The keep was gone, reduced to a rubble-filled pit, but its mighty rampart remained, standing silent vigil over Pegasus Wings' encampment from its place on the high hill.

Lieutenant Delacroix found the sight – and the thought – oddly comforting as she navigated the ruins, a duffle bag slung over her shoulder.

Humble walls of blue encircled stone buildings and rows of canvas tents – there was space enough in the abbey to accommodate nearly all of the army's assets. Or, at least, that which had gone through the portal with them. Macbeth had squatted in the abbey for years after his exile; he was all too happy to offer it as a base of operations to the Commander. For weeks, the place had been a hive of activity, as various personnel went about their business.

Today, though, in the dying sunlight, the abbey was silent and still, nearly empty. Sentries stood watch, pacing the walls, but there was no one patrolling the empty streets, no off-duty personnel smoking or eating or drinking. Even the fleet of trucks and armored vehicles had cleared out, though a few cars remained, and the Chinook helicopters were crammed together in the space that had been hastily cleared for them after the castle fell. The only ones spending the night in the abbey were the chopper crews, their passengers, and the engineers who cobbled together and maintained Metal Gear. Everyone else in the unit had moved, massing at the secondary staging area, for the first and final move in Macbeth's game.

Delacroix knew she should be with them. But she had one last bit of business to conclude.

She emerged from the rows of tents, approaching the towering cathedral at the heart of the abbey. Even without its western wall, it made for an imposing sight. That the face of Metal Gear poked out from the yawning gap only made it moreso.

Delacroix entered from the east door and ascended the prefab stairs, navigating up to the network of catwalks strung along the interior. Voices carried down to her from the other end of the gantry, from beside Metal Gear's cockpit.

"...you really don't see it?" said the client. "Look at the face, the mouth. The way the jawline juts downward, the way the cockpit's shaped like a set of lips. It looks angry."

"It's a machine," the Commander's voice replied with his usual level of disinterest. "It doesn't have emotions. It doesn't get angry. And it doesn't make faces. It is what it is, no more and no less."

Macbeth snorted. "You humans. All alike – no imagination. No artistic flair."

"You know better than that. Or you should."

"You're right. I take that back. William Shakespeare had artistic flair. The rest of you that followed him are dull as dishwater."

They came into sight in time for Delacroix to catch the client's disdainful shake of his head. But when he saw her, his face brightened.

"Lieutenant! I've been expecting you."

The Commander, standing straight with his arms folded, merely glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

Alistair Cain was not a kind man, nor one for sentiment – a life on the battlefield had hardened and scarred him, mentally and physically. Yet the edges of his scowl softened at the sight of Delacroix, and he looked on her with something less vicious than the contempt with which he treated most other living things. Captain Case – then Major Case – once joked over a night of beer and hamburgers on the deck of the Zanzibar Breeze that Cain treated her gently because she resembled his late cat. Then he drew whiskers on her face with a neon pink Sharpee.

He'd had many, many beers that night.

"Sir. Sirs," Delacroix corrected, saluting. "Your pardon, Mr. Macbeth, but I need a word with the Commander."

"Talking shop?" Macbeth looked quickly between the two officers and shrugged. "If you're here, then that means my ride is as well. See you there – don't keep me waiting."

Delacroix nodded, but Macbeth didn't see – he'd turned to look at Commander Cain again.

"This is where we part for now, friend. Mark my words, when next we meet, we'll toast our victory in the Great Hall of Canterlot Castle. The Princess isn't much of a wine-drinker, but I'm sure she has a cask of something palatable spirited away somewhere."

Cain nodded slowly. "Good hunting."

Macbeth actually seemed disappointed that his grandiloquence was so quickly dismissed. He snorted and strode away, leering briefly at Delacroix before descending the stairs and exiting the cathedral.

"At ease, Ori," said Cain, familiarity creeping into his voice. "What're you doing here? Your command's waiting on you, aren't they?"

My command. Hearing the words out loud made her shiver with excitement – her command, her first command, since getting her commission. And of the main force, to boot!

"I did need to pick up the client, sir," she said casually.

"Any half-wit with a Jeep could've done that. You shouldn't stoop to handling such things personally. Sets a bad precedent."

"I also had a report to make."

"Couldn't have done it over radio?"

"I..." She was running out of excuses, and coughed to buy time. The Commander watched her, amusement in his eyes.

"I wanted to do it in person, sir. Partly because I wanted to thank you."

Cain appraised her quietly. "For?"

"The command. Giving me Birnam Wood. You're putting a lot of faith in me, and I wanted to thank you for it." She hesitated. "And to ask..."

"Why you, and not Smart?" Cain's lips twitched.

"Why me, and not... you," Delacroix corrected, wincing at her own presumption.

The tiny smirk soured and fell away. "Because someone's got to pilot this damn thing," Cain said icily. "And the only other man in the unit who knows how to is Trenton. And Ronald's dead, otherwise command of the main force would go to him. Ergo, it falls on your lap."

"If it's a matter of seniority, sir... If you're staying behind to pilot Metal Gear, then by rights, Captain Smart should be leading Birnam Wood, and I should have Paper Mongoose. That's the way of things." She bit her lip. "Respectfully, and if I may be so bold... after what happened in the castle, this will only make the men talk more—"

"Let them talk," Cain snapped. "Let them flap their stinking gums all they want. They're getting a payday, and at the end of the day, that's all that matters."

"Yes, sir," said Delacroix meekly. "Forgive me, sir. I didn't mean to offend."

"This isn't how I saw things going either, Ori." Cain's voice softened, but it was tinged with bitterness. "This whole mission's gone tits up – there shouldn't even be a Paper Mongoose, but that's where we are. You have your role, I have mine, Smart has his. Besides..."

His fingers tightened around his biceps.

"Someone needs to stay behind to greet Trenton."

"You're sure he'll even come back?"

"A man like him won't abide a loose end. Trust me, he'll show."

There was a faint trace of tobacco in Cain's breath. Looking down, Delacroix saw ground-out cigarette butts littering the catwalk. How long had he been standing there?

"It's Macbeth I'm more worried about," Cain added. "You heard him – he's already declared victory, and we haven't even fought the battle yet. Son of a bitch should know better. Dunsinane was the other one's undoing. He isn't careful, it'll be his too, whatever side of it he's on."

Delacroix tilted her head uncomprehendingly. "Sir, I don't follow."

"You read Shakespeare, Ori?"

"Can't say that I do, sir."

"You oughta. Can learn a lot from the Bard. About history, strategy. Irony. Macbeth did, but you ask me, he learned the wrong lessons." Cain dipped his head, tucking his chin above his chest. "Client thinks he's invincible, long as he's got our guns and our technology. Thinking like that'll get him killed. He's overestimating us, and underestimating the enemy. They're not to be taken lightly. Especially not the Princess."

"Yes, sir."

"This wouldn't even be possible if they hadn't dispatched that force to the asscrack of the world. Even then, we're facing steep odds. Client seems to have forgotten that – or he's riding high on the smell of his own farts, and it's making him ignore the facts." He nodded at Delacroix. "Macbeth wants to walk into Canterlot a conquering hero. Fine, but I want him there as a spectator, not a participant. And the fact is, I trust you to wrangle him more than I do Smart."

"Thank you. Sir." Delacroix was no stranger to the battlefield, herself, yet the Commander's show of confidence left her feeling oddly bashful. "I won't let you down, sir."

"I wouldn't have given you Birnam if I thought for a moment that you would." Cain turned his head to look out over the tents in the abbey. "Now, I believe you had a report for me?"

"Um... oh. Yes, of course." Delacroix rested her arm on her bag. "Birnam Wood and Paper Mongoose are at full readiness – but I suppose you knew that already. Choppers are gassed up and good to go, but without the extra fuel from the castle, they only have enough of a reserve supply to get there and stay in the fight. No telling how they're getting home."

"What about the Hind?"

Delacroix shifted her weight onto her left foot nervously. "The salvage team never made it to the castle. The deer have gotten bolder since last night. Roxette was the only one who made it back – says they used hit and run tactics, striking suddenly from the underbrush, and melting away just as quickly."

"How is she?"

"Out of commission with a stab wound that's festering. Dr. Rokubungi thinks the deer coated their antlers with some kind of venom. I've taken her off the mission and ordered her to bed."

"Forcing us to launch a heliborne assault without a gunship or our best pilot. Fuckin' deer." Cain snorted. "First thing we do after Canterlot, we find where they're coming from and slaughter 'em all. Have a great big venison cook-out. Best share of the loot goes to whoever makes the juiciest steak out of their king."

Delacroix's stomach rumbled – anything would be better than another dinner of surplus rations. The stuff wasn't good enough for the French Foreign Legion, and it wasn't good enough for Pegasus Wings.

"We can make do without the Hind, I suppose, but not Roxette – she'd better pull through." Cain grunted. "What about Grond?"

"Online. Though it's as we feared – the recoil from the first shot'll tear the whole assembly apart. We won't be able to fire a second."

"We'll only need one." Cain nodded, satisfied. "Sounds like you've got everything in order, then. If there's nothing else, then you'd better go catch up with the client. Otherwise, it's a long walk to the mountain junction."

"There is one last thing." Delacroix unzipped the bag on her shoulder. "I... took the initiative of ordering Trenton's personal locker opened. After what happened in the castle, it seemed... prudent."

Cain stiffened, turning on the balls of his feet to face Delacroix. She expected him to yell – his face was red, like it always got before he yelled – but instead he just stared at her in that same detached way.

"Not a bad call. Bastard stole my bike. Ron's car, too. Only fitting that someone else goes through his shit."

Delacroix tried not to let her surprise show – nor her relief. "Uh, yes sir. Anyway, most of it's not out of the ordinary."

She reached into the bag and drew out a blade – a short sword, with a wooden handgrip and no wristguard, in a sheath of the same color and material. She handed it to Cain, who looked over it with muted interest.

"A spare sword. Another tactical vest, taken from our own supply – we left that where we found it. A few magazines of nine millimeter ammunition, and a broken optic camouflage unit."

"Should hang on to that. If we can fix it up, it might come in handy." He tucked the sword underneath his arm. "Anything else?"

Delacroix slowly retrieved a pair of faded photographs from the bag, and handed them to Cain. The scenes they depicted, the faces on them – they meant nothing to her. But it was clear by the way Cain's fingers shook as he held the photos that they meant something to him.

One showed a boy and a girl, standing side-by-side on a beach. The boy, in green fatigues and a hat, looked nervously at the girl as she clung tightly to his arm. She was bent over to rest her chin on his shoulder – she clearly stood a full head taller than him – and winked at the camera with the impetuous innocence of childhood. She wore some sort of school uniform, blue skirt and matching jacket, and her head was a mop of yellow curls.

The girl was in the other picture, too, covering the eyes of a man seated at a table, while a brown-haired woman in a tank top spoon-fed him something from a platter held by another blonde in khaki. The man's face was mostly hidden by the girl's hands, but the word "MEDIC" could be faintly discerned in blue lettering on the front of his uniform.

Cain stared at those pictures for a long, long time, a look coming over him that Delacroix had never seen before. Then his face hardened again, and he tucked them into his back pocket.

"Seen these already. Nothing I didn't already know."

"One more thing." Delacroix pulled another object from the bag – a scuffed-up and dented Walkman, and a pair of headphones too. She handed them to Cain. "There's a tape in there. I couldn't make heads or tails of it, but..."

Cain slipped the headphones over his ears wordlessly and thumbed the play button. Time passed – seconds into minutes – and his face reddened again, yet save a slight twitching at the corner of his lips, his expression didn't change. Eventually, he turned his back on Delacroix to lean against the catwalk's handrail, staring out across the abbey.

Finally, he switched off the tape and pulled the headphones down. He said nothing. He didn't turn.

"Commander?"

"Assume your post, Lieutenant." He bowed his head. "Carry out your orders."

Before she turned to leave the cathedral, she caught a glance at his hands, closed so tightly around the railing that they warped the metal.

Gloved knuckles tapped against a metal door. A voice – girlish and accented, yet stuffed-up and nasal – called back from the other side.

"It's open!"

Paz Ortega Andrade wore white pajamas, so close in color to her bedding that the girl blended seamlessly with her blankets. Her back was propped against her headboard, and her elbows rested on her thighs as she read from a thick book with Spanish words on the cover. Her kitten, Nuke, curled up on her lap, a fuzzy black dot with yellow eyes that peeked curiously at the visitor.

Paz looked up from her book. "Hello, Swordfish," she said with a wet sniffle. "Keep your distance. Serval says I'm not contagious anymore, but better safe than in quarantine."

"Ah, I can't get sick. Biologically impossible. I mean, look at these muscles." Swordfish flexed his bare arms, grinning.

Paz giggled. "I am not sure that is how the immune system works."

"Oh, ask anyone. Ask Serval. He'll back me up." He stepped into the room and shut the door behind himself. "So, how're you doing?

"Ugh." Paz flopped against her headboard. "I've got chills, my sinuses ache, my throat feels like a scratching post, and I've got stuff coming out of my nose that I did not even know my body could produce!" Her complaint ended with a sudden, violent sneeze, and she plucked a handkerchief from her side table to wipe her nose.

Swordfish, nonplussed, watched awkwardly until she was finished.

"Sorry. Not very ladylike of me, I know." Paz smiled sheepishly and pointed at the platter balanced on Swordfish's arm. "What have you got there?"

"Thought you could benefit from a home-cooked meal," said Swordfish. He braced his free hand underneath the platter. "So I decided to whip up some of that gulluh pintuh that you and the ladies like so much."

Paz frowned at him. "Do you mean gallo pinto?"

"S'what I said, isn't it? Gulluh pintuh."

"No, it's..." Paz closed her book and adjusted herself, folding her legs and accidentally dislodging Nuke in the process. The kitten hopped onto the nearby window sill with a meow of protest, and sprawled out in a sunbeam.

"Okay. Repeat after me." Paz's eyes met Swordfish's. "Say 'gai?'"

"Gai."

"Yo?"

"Yo."

"Pinto."

"Pinto."

"Now, all together."

"Gulluh pintuh."

Paz's face screwed up as though she were about to sneeze again, before it twisted into a scowl that threatened to break into a smile. She jabbed a finger at Swordfish, shaking it angrily.

"You are making fun of me!"

Swordfish laughed and stepped up to Paz's bedside. "Make no mistake, though, I had nearly this exact conversation with Amanda in the galley."

He lowered the platter onto her lap and lifted the lid. The aroma that streamed from the exposed plate assaulted his nostrils. It was earthy, and tangy, without being pleasantly so, and stank so powerfully of salt that Swordfish could taste it. It looked about as appetizing as it smelled – lumpy black chunks ladled haphazardly over moist, sticky rice, with the occasional sallow yellow pepper sticking out of the morass.

Paz mustered a shaky smile, lifted the fork provided next to the plate, and scooped up a small bite. She slid it into her mouth, chewed haltingly, and swallowed.

"Mmm," she said, with obviously forced enthusiasm. "It's... delicious."

Swordfish glowered at her until her face screwed up and she stuck her tongue out, bleh'd, and pushed away the plate.

"Sorry." She coughed. "I tried. Honestly, I did."

Swordfish folded his arms, grumbling to himself. "I'm English, dammit; not my fault if I can't goddamn cook."

"Embracing the stereotype, are you?" Paz shook her head. "So much for soldiers without borders."

"Some stereotypes transcend borders." Swordfish reached over Paz's bed to scratch Nuke behind the ears, and the cat nuzzled into his hand with a pleased purr. Beside the cat was a little styrofoam cup of dirt, with a tiny white flower sprouting from it.

He smirked at Paz. "Gift from an admirer?"

"You could say that." Paz idly smoothed out her blankets. "Chico brought it."

"Figures," Swordfish grunted, pulling away from Nuke. "It's as runty and pathetic as he is."

"Oh, stop that," said Paz, sighing. "I know you two don't like each other, and it's not my business to pry into why. But I wish you'd at least try to get along with him. He's such a sweet boy, and he's been through so much. Please don't make his life any harder than it already is."

Swordfish grunted and turned away, mumbling to himself.

"Tell you what." Paz reached out and tugged on his wrist, and he looked over to see her beaming at him. "I am going to eat this entire plate of gallo pinto."

"Paz, you don't have to—"

"Ah ah! I insist. You worked hard on it, and I do not intend to let that effort go to waste." She let go of his wrist. "But in exchange, you need to be nice to Chico from now on. Do we have a deal?"

Swordfish stared silently at her, his mouth slightly agape, until there was a knock at the door. It opened, and the look on Paz's face – the blush, and the shy smile – told Swordfish who the new visitor was without his needing to turn around.

Nevertheless, Swordfish pivoted and snapped off a salute.

Big Boss acknowledged him with a look and a jerk of his head, and Swordfish relaxed. "I just wanted to see how you were doing, Paz – didn't mean to interrupt. If you're busy, I can come back—"

"Not at all, Boss! I'll go. Right away. Boss." Swordfish made for the door.

"Wait a moment," Paz called after him.

With half his body through the door, Swordfish turned to look at her. She pointed the dinner fork at him playfully.

"Do we have a deal?"

Big Boss glanced at him, an eyebrow arched. "Better give the girl an answer, son."

Swordfish finally swallowed and nodded.

"Alright, then." Paz's sky-blue eyes were alight with mischief. "Keep up your end of the bargain, Swordfish. Because I am not suffering this torment for nothing."

It was dark out, and her vision was blurry besides – even in the pale light of her aura, she had to squint in order to read the message. Her eyes scanned over it, time and time again, and she found herself panicking more and more on every pass.

DODGE ATTACKED AND LOST. CHANGELINGS + C.Q. KILLED BY UNKNOWN ENEMY. STRANGE MAGIC – "SOUL-BLEEDING." ENEMY ENGAGED, STILL AT LARGE. CASUALTIES HEAVY. NO FATALITIES.

MET T.S. AT CHERRY HILL. WARNED OF DIFF. THREAT – "HEW-MON" ARMY LED BY "MACBETH." PONYVILLE AT RISK. ATTACK IMMINENT.

FALLING BACK TO APPLELOOSA. ADVISE.

They knew. They knew they knew they knew. All her months of careful preparation, all her weeks of tireless walking, all her effort at keeping everything under wraps, and all of it was for nothing. They knew. The drunkard, and the murderer, and no less than Twilight Sparkle herself, they knew, and if she hadn't gotten lucky, if the swaggering oaf in the clanking golden armor hadn't spotted her from the sky and circled down to investigate, that damnable Princess would have known too.

And where would that leave her?

The steel-gray oaf swayed slightly on his hooves, glassy eyes staring, unfocused, at nothing. A trail of drool ran down his lips, and every now and then, he made some sort of meaningless burble sound. Chivalrous fool – he'd taken her for some helpless filly in need of defense, and swaggered over to her with a cocksure grin. His fear, his pain, as the razor slid into him, as his soul dribbled out, as everything he was became hers, was delectable; it sated her, comforted her – and she needed comfort, after the loss of so many pets.

Including her pet Queen.

She gorged herself on his rations – she hadn't eaten so well since leaving Dodge – and found the note stuck to the inside of his saddlebags. She read it with detached interest, and then she read it again. And again. And again.

Until she finally threw it to the ground and screamed.

They knew. Because of her. Because of her own weakness. Twilight spoke, and Chrysalis listened, and instead of snapping the reigns and urging the beast forward, impaling her on the ends of her scythes and flinging her shredded meat to the sands of Dodge, instead of rising to the sky and ripping the wings off of every last contemptible buzzard infesting the place, instead of finding the murdering human and repaying him in kind for all that he had done...

...She listened. She listened, listened with Chrysalis. Because some weak, foolish part of her that she'd long ago buried still needed to believe that Twilight Sparkle would talk to her. Extend friendship to her.

That she'd really come for me.

She had failed herself, again, as she always had from birth. Such was her existence, a string of disappointments, culminating in a life half-lived and wasted. But worse than failing herself...

She had failed her Lord.

Thanks be, He was more diligent than she, picking up the reigns when she had dropped them. That the effort failed reflected not on Him – the failure to kill Twilight Sparkle rested squarely on her own shoulders. He bore no fault. Never would she make that mistake again. Never would she fail Him again.

Her Lord heard her contrition, and approved, and crept back into her. His hatred thrummed through her emaciated form, flooding from head to hoof to tail and chasing away the biting cold of the desert night. His pain – such lovely, exquisite agony – became her pain once again.

And, together, they schemed.

"Can you feel her?" her Lord whispered in the recesses of her mind. "The puppet's strings are not so broken that she cannot dance for us again. Reach out to her now – feel her, as I feel you. Fill her, as I fill you. Be her, as I am you."

She shut her eyes and shuddered as her mind touched the other – the lingering connection, not quite severed, grew taut between them. She felt the other's contentment give way to wild fear, but the feeling was quickly crushed underhoof.

Unbidden, a memory resurfaced – impossible to say from whom, for it was one that both minds shared, and she no longer knew where one ended and the other began. A night of awkward glances and half-hearted small-talk, a family gathering she didn't know why she bothered to attend. Strangers to her, in all but name, even before she left them behind.

But among them all was a curvy mare, red-maned and beauty-marked, who smiled at her without guile. A true stranger, yet one who did what none of her family dared. Spoke to her. Listened to her. And, at night's end, half-drunk on cherry cider and eggnog, she pushed a thick, red book into her hooves.

"They said y'all were the bookish type, so I picked this out for you. Happy Hearth's Warming!"

Her Lord hissed His displeasure, and quashed the thought before she could pay it more mind than it was due.

"Vacuous lies. You've no need for them."

He was right – that was nothing but lingering feeling from a mare long dead, the same weak compulsion that made her stop before Twilight Sparkle could die, that made her pull the blade from the curvy mare before she could winkle away her soul, the saccharine sentiment that made her sever the tie between them before she could join their Hymn. A mistake, that. The first of many.

She belonged to her, now, though. Not as a pony, not a mare, but a limb – a weapon – an instrument of revenge.

"Good girl," her Lord crooned. She smiled, and they spoke and moved together.

"Just like that."