//------------------------------// // Chapter 13 // Story: MLA: Perihelion // by Starscribe //------------------------------// Second Chance heard the sound of distant cannons and gunfire from within an APC with a ceiling way too high for her comfort. It was a surreal experience. I’m in a human vehicle in Equestria and I’m still a pony. There were seats along the wall for twelve men in full combat gear, which meant each of the seats was even more gigantic than they would need to be just for a pony. The space seemed all the more vast since it was almost completely empty. Empty except for one passenger, who said nothing and stared straight ahead. Their companion wasn’t even an adult. The “High Technocrat” who was apparently in charge of this entire operation was actually younger than Chance or Sweetie Belle. Well, at least from the way she looked. Maybe ten, with bright red hair and pale skin covered with freckles. Instead of armor she wore a formal-looking gray and silver robe, of the sort Chance had seen in Steel Tower holos in her childhood. Lyra had tried more than once to engage her in conversation, but without success. The girl had been curt, telling them that she was busy controlling the troops and couldn’t spare any concentration for anything not related to the battle. Lyra hadn’t really understood, but at least she hadn’t protested. “How is the battle going?” Second Chance had to give herself something to think about, or else she would start drifting back along that sea of apathy. Very little in the world seemed to matter, and the more time she spent thinking about it the more she would find herself returning to that. Second Chance felt no magic anymore. The world washed around her in a haze, and the more things she saw with brightness and life to them the more irritated she became. It was like extreme sleep deprivation, staved off only by an increasingly toxic brew of drugs in her brain and body. Sooner or later she would have to rest, and she wasn’t sure if she would wake up. Brigid’s voice was one of those things that annoyed Chance. It was high and musical, as musical as a pony’s with pitch just as perfect. “Informing you serves no tactical purpose as yet.” “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” Chance sat up, glaring at her. The APC had no windows, nor any other control buttons she could manipulate. Tower vehicles were often that way though, since they were intended for people with radio control in their bodies. Chance could do it too, but most Federation citizens didn’t have Neuroboost. “I am the only one in this APC who knows any tactical information about Canterlot. I know about its physical and magical defenses… the ones that have probably been turned on you now.” She shrugged one shoulder. “I’m guessing something must be working if you aren’t in already. You’re firing…” She listened to another explosion, feeling the shake through the treads. “That’s a 200mm gun at least. Your siege artillery won’t be able to get through the city shield.” The human (who looked like a child, but Chance wasn’t fooled) looked up. She stared at her with sudden interest, and Chance didn’t look away. She didn’t even flinch that she was sitting in such a way that more of her would be visible to a modesty-sensitive person like a human. “I’ll get through eventually. It will weaken eventually. We’ve already turned the exterior fortifications to dust.” Sweetie Belle gasped. “B-but… those were pony towers!” There was no remorse on Brigid’s face. “Manned by the enemy. The primitive cannons couldn’t harm my troop transports, but they could hurt my soldiers once they’re deployed.” “You don’t know the first thing about war, Technocrat. Of course you don’t… or you’d be a knight.” Brigid turned her glare back on Chance. “My knight decided to go off with all his ‘squires’ and fight a monster I’m not even sure exists. I’m the only hope for this city now.” Sweetie Belle turned away, lying on her belly across her seat. “We’re doomed.” “I don’t know why you would know more than I, native. Your people haven’t even dreamed of the weapons my army fields now. It might be many centuries before they do.” Chance ignored that. “I don’t know what knowledge your Tower made you learn when you came to Equestria. Whatever it was, though…” She shivered. “It wasn’t enough. What do you think the ponies of Canterlot are going to think when they see you’ve destroyed their towers outside the shield? Maybe they think they’re better off with changeling conquerors than an enemy that doesn’t even leave their buildings standing.” She rose to her hooves—it wasn’t that hard to stay balanced with the APC not actually driving. “Canterlot’s shield spell was upgraded after the last changeling invasion. My mom said they made it strong enough to take an asteroid impact.” Brigid faltered a little. She looked no less obstinate, but at least a little less decisive. “That’s not… If it was that strong, how could the invaders get inside in the first place?” Chance advanced towards where she sat, glaring. She couldn’t help it—this Brigid was far more dismissive of Equestria than she herself had been, so confident of her own strength that she missed all Equestria’s powers. Typical Tower crap, so sure they were the superior race and that no organics could ever outstrip them. We know the secret to making sapient artificial intelligences, and you don’t, she wanted to say, all too smugly. You’ve made yourselves into AI and you can’t even reproduce. It was Lyra who answered, though she looked more than a little disturbed. “Shield spells don’t stay on all the time, they take too much magic. If the changelings got in slowly over time, they would already be inside when somepony finally switched it on.” Second Chance continued where Lyra left off. To her satisfaction, the ground no longer shook with the sound of Brigid’s artillery. “A city ward is more general than the kind ponies put on their houses. They only discriminate by species: anything pony is allowed through, but nothing else. Lyra and Sweetie Belle and me could go in…” She frowned, but it wasn’t as though hiding the information would help them. She didn’t want to continue, but continue she did. “And you too. Wards don’t stop nonliving targets if they aren’t doing threatening things. If you walked nice and slow, you could walk right through.” The girl sat back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest and looking thoughtful. “The four of us could walk right through it,” she muttered. “Shut down the ward from the inside, let the army in.” “Yes,” Chance agreed. “But none of us can really fight. You’re a Technocrat—maybe you’re fast, maybe you can fly or go invisible or something, but that won’t get you to the shield. The changelings obviously control it, and they’re masters of deception. You’d never be able to fight your way through. Maybe Sir Leo could… but not you.” “Chance,” Sweetie whispered from beside her, voice timid. Brigid ignored her, not giving Second Chance the opportunity to reply either. “So we wait for him to get back from his fool’s exertion empty-handed. He can get it for us then.” Chance shook her head. “I doubt we have that kind of time. Changelings have instant communication across vast distances. I would be very surprised if more changelings are not flying on your position right now. You have… what, a thousand soldiers? If we have to wait here in the open, we’ll be overwhelmed.” “Second Chance.” Sweetie’s voice was a little more insistent, and she looked up from her resting position on the chair. Chance kept going. “Maybe we can make it back to your burrows in time, but I promise they’re watching. They might just be waiting for us to give up and turn around, so they can descend on us while we’re going back down the mountain.” Brigid nodded, biting her lip. “You… may be right. Assuming your assessment of changeling strength is accurate—” “SHUT UP!” Sweetie Belle’s scream was so high and shrill the lights seemed to flicker. She stood up on the seat now, glaring at the both of them. Apparently their shocked expressions were her desired outcome, because she smiled with satisfaction. “Good.” She turned to Chance. “I don’t think this is as hard was we’re making it seem.” For the first time, Brigid did not interrupt them. “What’s the easy way?” “Well…” Sweetie Belle hopped down onto the floor, swinging her tail about behind her. She looked so vibrant, so alive, but Chance couldn’t let it get to her. It was no fault of Sweetie Belle’s that Lyra and herself could not feel that way too. “I know your uncle was the one who came up with the shield and all… but you hadn’t come to Equestria yet, so I figured maybe you didn’t know.” “Didn’t know what?” Chance followed her, biting back her frustration. It mostly worked. Sweetie Belle didn’t seem to be in any hurry, though. “We talked about it in school, how in the end it was Princess Cadence's love magic that finally got rid of all the changelings. She did something sorta like what the Crystal Empire uses, with that heart thing…” Sweetie Belle gestured vaguely with her hoof. The human scoffed, and somewhere far away a gun started firing again. “If there was a princess in there, I don’t think the changelings could’ve taken the city.” Unless, of course, Tirek had been here first. Could the awful magic he had turned on her work on princesses? She didn’t even want to think about it. It’s not possible. The princesses are too strong. Celestia has lived for thousands and thousands of years. And Luna—Luna knows how to fight monsters. She has that magic sword of hers… Of course, Sweetie Belle couldn’t hear her thinking. “Duh! The princesses must be… fighting the monster! So they’re too busy. They’d probably get to Canterlot, but…” She shook her head. “We don’t need to wait for them. Because of the shield.” She took a breath. “Big shields like this don’t just check to see if you’re a pony! They use the way ponies feel! The ponies inside, I mean. They’re scared right now, so the shield would be on no matter what the changelings wanted. Right?” Chance nodded. “I guess…” “It works both ways!” Sweetie grinned at her. “If we’re in harmony, the shield knows we don’t need it! Just like—” “Just like at the Starlight Flower’s ruin,” Chance finished. Now it was Brigid’s turn to look frustrated. Still, that meant they had provoked some real emotion from her, which probably counted as an accomplishment. “That sounds like native superstition. Even if it isn’t though, I don’t see how it helps us. If the shield knows how the city’s inhabitants feel, then we’ll never get it down that way. Their city is occupied by monsters, and we’re besieging it. There’s no way we could make them feel… ‘harmony.’” She said the last word with enormous disdain, then muttered, “I have no idea how a species with such primitive beliefs managed to create a city-sized force field.” “I know one way.” Sweetie Belle’s grin didn’t falter. “We could sing!” Brigid laughed, her voice harsh and cruel. “You’re not serious.” She turned away from them, glaring at the wall. “Leo sends me ‘native tactical experts.’ I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” Chance might’ve thought something similar, had it not been for the person voicing her objections. If the Tower Technocrat didn’t think it could be done, though… she would get it done out of spite. “It might work. Ponies do like to sing. Sometimes it feels like once somepony starts, everypony has to join in even if they don’t know the words.” She shifted uncomfortably, struggling to find an answer. “But, Sweets, Canterlot is a huge city. Even if the dogs stopped making tons of noise and attacking the shield, there’s no way we could be loud enough.” “We wouldn’t be much use.” Apparently Lyra hadn’t dozed off after all. “Chance, what you’re talking about takes magic. Only Sweetie Belle still has any. But…” The dejected unicorn’s face suddenly brightened. “Wait a minute!” She gestured to Chance’s saddlebags, resting on the seat beside her. Chance opened them, though she didn’t have a clue what the unicorn was talking about. Then she saw it sitting there: the music player she had made for Lyra almost a year ago. The one that you could use to turn anything into a speaker, so long as it was flat enough. Chance had once worried that she would find a wall in a large building and fill Ponyville with out-of-place human music. To her credit, Lyra never had. Chance drew it out with her mouth, then switched it on. The little music player had about a half charge. Plenty of time, even with maximum volume. “Alright, Technocrat Brigid.” Suddenly it didn’t matter to Second Chance that all her magic was gone. She hadn’t smiled this wide since she had first made friends with the CMC. “We need one dog and one microphone. Give us those, and we’ll give you something to write that king of yours about.” * * * Never in her life had Brigid considered she might witness something so absurd. Even most of the Imperium’s fantasy simulations had more realism than it took for this plan to work. Brigid watched the ponies work from the eyes of one of the dozen or so bodies she had brought into battle, robes billowing about her in the fierce winds up the mountain. Brigid’s dogs were assembled now, in dense battle lines. She knew the method of their organization only academically, and did little to involve herself with the lieutenants Leonidas trained. Whatever else the green native had said, she was right about one thing: Technocrats were not trained for war. Clearly the green one hadn’t been either, judging on the plan they had chosen to get her troops into the city. It doesn’t matter how stupid their plan is if it works. Brigid stood about five meters away, hands behind her back as she watched. The city itself flew black flags from its towers, with a broken green heart visible in the center. Even the despots are adorable here. Well, maybe the rest of what the conquerors had done to the city was less adorable. There were hundreds of dark almost-ponies just beyond the shield, watching with those dead insect eyes. Well, maybe watching wasn’t the right word. They leered, resting on buildings and on the road and wherever else there was space for them. Brigid’s lieutenants had responded by spreading their troops as wide as possible along the other end of the river, so that as many as possible would be able to get a clear shot once the shield fell. Maybe I should try to get through and shut it off. It can’t be more doomed than this plan. She didn’t though. Brigid had gotten sick enough of the green pony with her self-righteous superiority and all the knowledge she claimed to have that Brigid had decided to let her try. Mostly she wanted to see her fail. But if a changeling counterattack just happened to come while she was out in the open with that vulnerable flesh, well… casualties of war, right? She watched the city from beside her APC, briefly reactivating her sense of smell and letting herself hear again. The choke of gunpowder and death almost set her to retching, and Bree had to catch herself on the side of the APC, or else put on quite the display for her army. I’m not fighting—the dogs will deal with that, she reminded herself, for all the good it did. There was rot in those walls, soldiers and martial law and other horrors. Bree had seen all of it before along the streets of London. She wouldn’t let them overwhelm her now. The natives proved remarkably resilient to the horrors. None had been discouraged when they saw the state of the city, towers burning or crumbled and distant screams coming from within. They stood strong on the bridge, right where the shield would’ve prevented Bree’s dogs from crossing. Bree had assigned all four of Leo’s “squires” that hadn’t gone with him to that task, and three held swords in their paws instead of rifles. The fourth Squire held an Old-Earth-looking music player, the sort made for bringing music to concerts and other large venues. Bree could only guess at where the adult unicorn had gotten it. Maybe from the OMICRON core Leo said he found. As though such a machine could’ve made it across the rift. Bree hadn’t actually wasted any of her resources to investigate the claim first hand, for reasons that were totally about wanting to get to Canterlot as fast as possible and not even a little related to how terrified she was of encountering one. “You about warmed up, Sweetie Belle?” That was the annoying green one’s voice, the one who knew too much about Earth and Leo had apparently respected enough to send to her. The little white unicorn finished her scale. “Yeah! I… As ready as I’ll ever be.” She pawed at the bridge, scratching nervously. Even Bree was impressed—she couldn’t have been closer to perfect pitch with electronic lungs. Not that it’s going to make a difference for taking down their impossible force-field. “Okay. Lyra and I will try to help, but…” “But it’s mostly you,” the adult added. “We don’t have any magic.” “Like we need magic to sing.” The green and yellow one sat down beside the other young one, in the weird pony way that reminded Bree so much of animals. “Most ponies do.” The adult had to set the microphone down on the bridge to speak, as she had been holding it in front of them with her mouth. Bree didn’t understand why she didn’t use that strange levitation ability, but she didn’t really care. Her tactical position was better if the ponies couldn’t, in any case. “Wait, what?” The green one turned in genuine confusion. “That’s not how singing works! It’s about rhythm, pitch, meter…” She stopped, then turned away, dismissing it. “We don’t have time for this.” She looked up. “Mr, uh…” “Simon,” the old dog croaked, smiling down at her. He looked to be enjoying the exchange almost as much as Bree herself—like watching a pair of Old Earth cartoons fight. “Yes, Mr. Simon. Could you please hold that up to the shield? The soft round part, just press that up as flat as you can. Hold it there no matter how much it shakes, and don’t press too hard.” “Yes, filly.” He stepped forward, into line with his fellow armored squires. As he did, the shield burned into faint pink life, a gradually rounded bubble that looked like it extended all the way up the city. Of course, it only stayed visible while he was close. He reached out, holding the little object to the shield. “Like this?” The green one nodded, then gestured to the blue-green pony. Without a word, she lifted the mic back up into her mouth. “Testing, testing…” The shield roared briefly, suddenly surrounding the whole city. The whole thing vibrated with sound, far louder than Bree imagined was possible even from a whole army of sound amplifiers. Must be something to do with the “magic.” The green one cleared her throat, then continued. Her voice was much more confident now, as confident as Bree herself had sounded when she first addressed her dogs. “Ponies of Canterlot!  A friendly army waits outside your shield to free you from the changelings, but we cannot get in. My friend is going to sing—everypony who can should too. Together we can bring the shield down and save all of you!” She stepped back then, gesturing at the microphone. Her friend shifted uncomfortably on her hooves, and seemed to be getting reluctant. Maybe that was the watching drones, all staring at them. None of them reacted. They know this isn’t going to do anything but make the captured city feel more helpless when it fails. The white unicorn flubbed her first few words, and whined something Bree couldn’t hear. Her friend embraced her, gesturing at the mic. It wasn’t as though Bree wanted to imagine how embarrassing it would be to look stupid in front of an entire city—not to mention the enemy. Not that there’s any other option. Even the best performance in the world isn’t going to bring down the shield. We’ll have to wait for Leo—take our chances they can’t reinforce. The white one started singing again. “Equestria, the land I love…” It seemed like a national anthem, patriotic and sappy. Even so, Bree found herself staring, disconnecting from all her puppet bodies so she could concentrate. The whole shield was visible now, under the constant barrage of sound. Even so, Bree’s drones could still circle above, and a few visual filters could cut through the shimmer of magic. Bree watched ponies emerge from their homes, or stop on the street, watching the sky. It was hard to tell from outside the shield, but… as she watched, it seemed like more and more of them were joining in. The green one sung along, though she wasn’t nearly as good as her friend. By then it didn’t matter—there were so many voices coming from within the shield that their speaker seemed to drown. Bree couldn’t have quite described what she felt next. It wasn’t unlike the way some of the Imperium’s simulations would impart knowledge of their rules to newcomers, helping them stay in sync and to work together. It was like that, but… not quite. Brigid walked closer to the little singing ponies, and found she felt the words before she heard them. Bree had never heard this song before, hadn’t read it in any of the ancient books. She hadn’t heard the melody either, though she had loved music and studied many Old Earth styles. Bree walked across the bridge, to where the little ponies sang. They weren’t all that smaller than she was, really. A foot, maybe two. She didn’t even have to stoop to join them. The little green one choked on her words for a second, eyes widening. Bree ignored her—she wasn’t singing for anypony else. Bree let her vision in her last few drones lapse as she listened, clutching at a chest that had no heartbeat. She felt them—thousands of voices, all singing together. They might not be assembled in the same place—yet all their faces were there, their thoughts, desires, and fears. Brigid felt magic. It almost wasn’t a surprise when the shield started to flicker, washed away in the love and harmony of Equestria’s ponies. Shocked changelings were no longer sheltered behind impervious magic. They stared, evidently as surprised as Bree would’ve been before she felt it. The little white pony started bouncing up and down, shouting to her friend about something. Brigid didn’t hear it over the roaring of her dogs, the hundreds of voices demanding their orders. Brigid wasn’t a knight, and she could not lead a charge. Yet she could encourage them, as she had seen him do. “Dogs of the great pack!” she roared over the radio, into the ears of every soldier in her army. “Our shared enemy has taken this city from our friends! Prove your strength to your brothers now, your sisters, and to your king!” Bree had no sword. Instead she lifted the utility knife from her belt, flicking it open and raising it over her head. “For the Steel Tower!” The ponies couldn’t hear of course, none of them had communicators. They had the good sense to get out of the way as the shooting started, running back towards the APC and past the lines of growling dogs. The dogs of the Great Pack did not all wear modified powered-armor as the squires did—that rare honor was reserved only for the best fighters. Even with only breastplates and helmets, her dogs shook the earth as they charged across the bridge towards the changelings waiting on the other end. Thus the battle began in earnest. Brigid did not fight it, not personally. For every dog there were ten anti-personnel drones, sweeping over the city with a simple directive: kill every changeling they found. Her lieutenants could request more of them to strengthen their numbers, or to assist when dogs were injured and needed to be extracted. Within ten minutes every changeling at the entrance had been dumped into the river, and her APCs were circled around the entrance to the front marketplace. Gunfire shook the city as they fought, broken with savage barks and howls and the screeching cries of changelings as they died. Brigid herself returned to the command vehicle with her pony guests. There was something different about the white one. She didn’t notice at first, not until a lull in the fighting gave her a bit more concentration to spare. She looked up at her nervous guests, where they sat conversing in the far corner of the carrier. “Pardon me…” After what she had just seen, Bree bothered to look back at the moment Leo had introduced them. “Sweetie Belle. I didn’t notice that tattoo before. Does it have something to do with that fantastic display of yours, just now?” Despite the circumstances, despite the sounds of battle and death not far away, the young pony grinned. “Sure does!” She turned, as if to give Bree a better view. It wasn’t much, a semiquaver silhouetted on a simple heart-shape. Even so, the pony wore it as though it were some sacred treasure. Her friends treated her that way too, practically awed by her performance. “I’ve been waiting for this for a really long time.” The green one—Bree checked, her name was Second Chance—rolled her eyes. “What did Truth tell you?” “Something musical where I was helping other ponies.” Sweetie Belle shoved her friend lightly on one shoulder. To see the little ponies, it seemed to them that the battle was already won. “But nothing ever came up! Doing good with the Jr. Ponytones wasn’t enough…” “You were pretty good,” the adult agreed. She turned, looking up toward Bree. “You too, Precursor.” Her expression was so weary, so tired, Bree almost regretted what she was doing. Almost. “I know we don’t have inventions like yours, but… our magic is pretty special.” “Magic,” Bree repeated, with much less disdain than she had ever said the word before. It was a strange choice of words these natives had made, but… maybe a correct one. “What was that?” The adult—Lyra, she now cared enough to remember—sounded exhausted as she spoke. “Some ponies call it… heartsong. Anypony can do it, but it’s usually the most magical, important ones…” She glanced briefly back over her shoulder at Sweetie Belle, impressed. “It’s a song that everypony wants to sing. They’re usually pretty special.” “Kinda scary the first time,” Second Chance admitted. “Hang around in Ponyville’s open air market for a week or two, you’ll hear one.” Outside, Brigid’s blitzkrieg went on. Casualties reported in the double digits, while kills were in four and still rising. Everywhere her dogs went the ponies of the city rose up, doing the brunt of the fighting for her. They hardly even seemed to notice as she replaced the four-legged black insect drones with four-propped white ones flying overhead or resting atop buildings. “Why do you care?” Second Chance’s voice returned Bree to her most prominent body. Not the one her consciousness was really in, obviously. Taking herself into battle would’ve been beyond reckless. “I thought the tower’s whole deal was that they already knew the best way to do everything. Don’t you just roll in and set things up your way?” She seemed to be making an effort not to sound insulting. “That’s true enough.” She shrugged one shoulder, rising again and gesturing at the wall. It unhinged before her, unfolding an armory rack stuffed full of different weapons. Bree selected one, a netgun often used for catching dangerous animals, and calmly removed it from the wheel. The guns stopped moving around, retracting back into their organizational shelf. “The tower’s method is the most effective ever devised. That doesn’t mean that we shouldn't make an effort to learn local customs, however.” She sat down beside the gun, not even touching it. The ponies were all staring at her now, not even seeming to notice the gun. “It’s good to know the customs of those lands we conquer.”