21: A Matter of Ritual and Tradition
Twilight Sparkle tried to process the reasoning behind Alf’s request for ritual combat. While she was able to use her lifelong experiences to keep a regal and professional posture, her silence over the visual-call made Alf worry. “I know this is much to ask, O Honorable Lavender One, but this is the only path I see that will allow me to avoid the Gates.”
Twilight was at last able to compose herself and cleared her throat. “I’m not against the idea of ritual combat, Alf, provided we don’t do anything obscene or fight to the death. However, I have to ask, why are you afraid of the Gates? I thought Rea’s offer to keep them open was a good thing.”
At this, Alf grew somber, trying to keep from looking too desperate. “It was, at least before The One of the Shroud gave me a better option.” Even with as little interaction he had with ponies, even he could pick up on Twilight’s confused visage. “Forgive me, I have not given you… context.”
And here I was thinking I’d have to straight out ask you for it, Twilight mused with measured academic interest. “Something tells me these Gates are the lesser of two evils.”
Alf nodded slowly. He screwed his face in concentration. “For my people, our souls had four possible fates after death. The first, and worst of them all is Abandonment. When one is so evil or immoral that none of the pantheon are willing to take them, the soul is left to roam the mortal plane, never able to interact with anything or anyone.” Twilight allowed herself to recoil from the story. “The loneliness would eventually drive the soul to madness to the point where they can no longer survive. The soul dissolves over millennia.”
The very idea of being alone and isolated for so long drew a deep seated knot of fear in the ageless pony. I would rather be cast into Tartarus than suffer that. Shaking off the dread, Twilight gave an acquiescent nod. “A… troubling fate indeed. Is it safe to assume these Gates spare you that torment?”
“In part…” Alf wrung his hands nervously. “Its proper name is the Gates of Oblivion. Less evil souls are sent there to be dissolved immediately, sparing them the eons of isolation.”
At this, Twilight was starting to get nervous. If this is the fate awaiting Alf, then is he hiding something? “Why send you there instead of a better fate?”
“Rea the Polite Judge holds dominion of judging souls and of the Gates themselves. It is Yeltra the Great Mother that allows others to reincarnate, and Beladas the Great King who presides over Paradise. With none of my people left, there is no one to reincarnate into, and I know in my failure, that I am not worthy of Paradise.”
Paradise? I wonder if the translator is being lazy with that name.
“Without either one of those two, the Gates of Oblivion is the only solace Rea the Polite Judge can grant me.”
That would explain a few things. Twilight motioned for continued silence when Alf did not immediately continue. Is he really a good person denied a proper afterlife, or is he more sinister? It took Twilight roughly a minute to come to a decision. “From what I’ve seen of you, Alf, you seem to be honorable and a good, if understandably peculiar, person. Forward to me the details of this ritual combat. But I must wait at least two weeks. Giving birth takes much of my magic and nursing greatly reduces my reserves.”
The joyful and relieved broad smile from Alf was enough to even brighten Twilight’s mood a little. “Two weeks is more than adequate. You have my eternal gratitude.”
As he said this, Alf prostrated himself as low as he could go, making Twilight uncomfortable. After he becomes a pony, the first order of business is to get him to stop worshipping me like that.
Alf got up and tapped a series of commands into the holographic console nearby. “I will organize a list of preparations to minimize effort on your part, but I have the place of combat itself already planned out. You need only to participate in combat and order your citizens to prepare the battle site.”
“Doesn’t sound too bad.” Upon receiving and opening the files, Twilight observed the overall shape of the octagonal arena. It was covered in crude, rushed iconography made by an unskilled hand. It was difficult, but she could make out scenes of ponies and some of Alf’s people fighting, with shadowy figures of both species watching from above. “And what will you be doing?”
“I must consecrate myself and ask the pantheon for aid to prove they are more worthy than you.”
The forced neutrality of the answer made Twilight twist her lips in contemplation. “I thought you said the pantheon was gone or at least fading away.”
“...They are,” Alf replied with averted eyes. “I do not expect to receive any aid, but the rituals must be done.”
Twilight nodded in both sympathy and understanding. “Then I shall leave it to you. For what it’s worth, I hope it works for you.” When all Alf did in reply was nod silently, she ended the call with a sigh.
Two days later, Praxia sat alone in the middle of the cafeteria, gnawing away on a fish melt sandwich. The loud din of conversation surrounding her from the dozens of filled tables comforted her in a way she couldn’t get anywhere else, as if the constant noise filled a need she could never place. In a way, the background noise gave her focus, as if her brain needed it to work at its best.
Presently, she was fortunate enough to claim one of the booths near a window overlooking the coast. She didn’t indulge herself much in the way of art, so snippets of natural beauty were held precious. Praxia’s personal display was chock full of lists, work schedules, and data maps that guided her in work. In the top right corner of her display sat a picture of Twilight and Prism smiling at the camera.
Let’s see. If what Dr. Genome said is true about Prism’s air filter, then live testing should be concluded today. I can start considering having future buildings being modifiable to allow free atmospheric ventilation for the day we don’t need protective helmets anymore.
Ideas both new and old danced around in her head, offering a nice and worthy distraction. Maybe we could try modifying the throat filter to work for ears too, maybe? Nictitating membranes for the eyes could work. It might be possible to front that idea to the biomechanical division as well. Then again, Chief Engineer Clattering Cog’s been hounding me for something to do other than replacement limbs all the time. If all this works out, then this first generation of foals won’t know what it’d be like to grow up having to isolate themselves from the atmosphere.
With a plan of action in place and a goal in mind, Praxia dictated her orders to the various divisions, making a special note for Clattering Cog. No sooner had she sent the letters than did the sound of feathers on air drag her attention to Prism, who was coming in for a landing. “Heyya, Praxia, mind if I join you?”
Praxia swallowed her bite of fish and swept a hoof at the empty opposing booth. “Go ahead, I just finished with some written orders.” Giving quick thanks, Prism clattered her tray on the table and slid on in.
For the first minute or two, Prism was mostly silent as she devoured a burger and some fries. That gave Praxia time to polish off the rest of her lunch, and was content to sit there quietly and drink in the ambient love Prism had for her. Prism was about to start her second burger when she gave Praxia a pensive look, yet it was her turbulent emotional aura that drew the orange haired changeling’s attention. “Something wrong?”
Prism wrung her hooves after retracted her hands. “How are things between you and Silver?”
Prism’s aura was troubling enough for Praxia to close her personal display and gave the pegasus her full attention. “Good, last I knew. We hung out for lunch yesterday. Why do you ask?”
“Well, I want to take him on the Flight of Feathers.”
Praxia gasped behind a hoof. Sympathetic excitement and a touch of melancholy hit her. Putting on a glad face, Praxia clapped her hooves. “Wow, I didn’t think you’d actually follow tradition.” Praxia was dodging the issue, and she knew it. “I could have sworn you thought that particular tradition was a bunch of hooey.”
“Yeah well, I was young and dumb back then. And as mom would say, he passed enough tests. I want to take this next step with him, but I wanted to know if you were too.”
Praxia couldn’t stop her ears from falling as flat as her frown. “Prism, you don’t need to wait for me. I can’t be part of a herd.”
Prism threw her head back with her eyes wide. “What!? Why not?!”
Praxia’s embarrassment flared at seeing a number of nearby diners look their way, and was grateful when their eyes didn’t linger. “Look, I like Silver as a friend, I really do, but you and I both know it would just get weird if I got romantic with anypony.”
Prism pushed forward, half standing on the table. “That’s a bunch of malarkey. The whole point of setting you up with Silver was so you’d stop isolating yourself.”
“I’m not trying to isolate myself,” Praxia yell-whispered, trying to keep outside attention at a minimum. “Look, what you did for me in helping me make friends with Silver is great and all, but at the end of the day, I’m a royal changeling.” Prism gave her a stink eye, but calmed down enough to get off the table. “Underneath all my fur, I’m still a bug, as you keep reminding me almost daily. I can’t have foals with Silver.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t fall in love with somepony,” Prism growled reproachfully. “Whatever motives your bug mom had in giving you to momma, she wanted you to integrate into pony society, yes? So what if you can’t have foals with Silver. That’s – ah –.” Prism shook herself to put some logic into her voice. “That’d be my job… At some point.” Prism’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment for a moment. Before Praxia could speak, Prism thumped the table with a mechanical fist. “Look, the fact is, you need love. You said it yourself that romantic love is the best kind.”
“I can get by with a friend’s platonic love,” Praxia replied with little conviction.
“You would really settle for a cheese sandwich when you could have steak and lobster?” Prism shot back with a raised eyebrow. “Why do you do this to yourself?”
Praxia fixed Prism with a screwed frown. “Because it’s easier to have a platter of cheese sandwiches, than to have only one plate of steak and lobster.”
Prism halted her first response, and was left speechless for a long moment. When she recovered, she gave the grey changeling a sidelong look. “Are you actually saying you want to make friends instead of hovering around mom’s door like a peeping tom? Like a bunch of them?”
“I already have,” Praxia replied with a bit of smug satisfaction, steadfastly ignoring the peeping tom comment entirely. “Well… one so far at least.” Praxia noted Prism’s expectant nod and grin. In a way, Praxia felt touched by Prism’s concern over her, made plain by the sisterly love she radiated freely. “Her name’s Sunlight Shade, she’s currently assigned to the solar farm.” Praxia kept a moderately happy face. “Besides, with Sensei taking some much needed maternity leave, I won’t have the time to keep a romantic relationship up. But I can handle a few new friends.”
Prism sat with a contemplative look on her face as she munched on a few fries. Seeing the opening to turn the conversation away from herself, Praxia spoke up with that conspiratory tone for juicy gossip. “So you’re actually going to drag Silver on an expedition?”
“…Well I haven’t asked him yet,” Prism said after debating if she’d allow herself to get distracted. “That’s the whole reason I wanted to ask about you and Silver. I didn’t want to jump the gun if you weren’t ready.”
A thin smile wormed its way onto Praxia’s muzzle. She reached out with a hoof, laying it halfway across the table. “Don’t worry about it. It may be a bit scandalous to say this, but I’m going to use Sunlight Shade as a springboard to get into more friend circles.”
Prism tilted her head at Praxia with a wrinkled brow. “Uh, I don’t know how to tell you this, Praxy, but that’s just how friends work in general.”
“Oh. Is that right?” Praxia rubbed her chin at the information. Oh right. Sensei told me that a few times, I guess I just… Never could make it work and it slipped my mind. A mix of deep embarrassment and sorrow over forgetting important lessons threatened to bubble to the surface. I’ll just have to fix that by actually making more friends. Somehow. Casting those thoughts aside, she refocused on Prism. “So when are you going to ask him?”
Prism’s hummed purposely loud as her eyes scanned her personal display to the side. “Should be any second now.” A wide predatory grin cleaved her muzzle, giving the changeling a bit of a fright. “There he is. Catch ya later, bug girl.”
Praxia waved goodbye as Prism jumped away from the table and sped off. A bittersweet sigh escaped her. It’s for the best. I was kidding myself for ever thinking of getting too emotionally attached to a pony outside of Sensei or Prism. What lover could possibly understand or stay in love once I begin to turn into a giant queen? It was a long-repeated excuse. No, it was a reason, not an excuse. It couldn’t be. For it to be otherwise, would require a change. A change Praxia was trapped into never being able to make. So a reason it had to remain.
It was rare, but Praxia found she was incapable of focusing on her work. Metal fingers tapped the table as her mind burned on that reason. The pressing work on her display forgotten, the distraction sparked a fire of irritation at herself. Praxia banished all thoughts of lovers or romance from her mind and forced herself to focus on work. Control yourself, damn it! I have to remain focused. Twilight is counting on me to cover for her. Friends can come now, and maybe a special somepony after I mature into a queen.
Finding the self-control to focus, Praxia lingered in the cafeteria for a while longer. She polished off the last of her food while trying to find a stopping point in her work so she could move to her office. She was in the middle of reviewing plans for a dedicated mobile facility for processing the mineral wealth of the various geological phenomena known as Ruby’s Towers when Dr. Genome’s avatar materialized asking for a call.
Huh, looks like the good doctor actually came to me. I guess Sensei was too busy to witness the final test. Adopting a professionally neutral posture, Praxia opened the call, allowing the green unicorn stallion’s face to appear. “Doctor, I take it you have good news.”
The scientist’s face was ecstatic, while bordering on the manic with his mane in a frizz. “I do, I do! Very much so. Please, I would be honored if you witnessed my work in person. I-if you have time of course. Don’t want to inconvenience the Regent after all,” he added with a slightly unhinged laugh.
Praxia furrowed a troubled brow at the scientist. Well, I guess I can finish this work order along the way. Sensei will probably want me to see this anyway. “It won’t be too much trouble, Doctor, I’ll be over there shortly.”
Genome plastered a wide grin and let off a quick laugh. “Excellent, marvelous! You shan’t be disappointed, I guarantee it!”
Prism followed the alert on her personal display, and spotted Silver Belle sitting with Firefly and another unicorn Pathfinder engineer. Witnesses, perfect! Prism hesitated in midair, keeping her eyes fixed on Silver. Before the other night, Prism had to admit he was growing on her, but after he watched over her dreams that night, she finally realized something. She saw his fluff-topped bat ears, that way he always gave a wry grin during conversation, and that bookish intelligence that resonated with her. Her cheeks went rosy just thinking about it. Come on, girl, you can do this. Not like he’d say no or anything. I mean, he’s got to love you too right? This is me we’re talkin’ about here, what’s not to love? Boasting didn’t quite have the same effect when it was only for her benefit. Why am I stalling? Just go down there already!
Steeling herself, Prism flew down, weaving through passing fliers until she arrived at Silver’s table. The trio of stallions had waved her down towards the end of her arrival. “Hey, boys, mind if I get a minute with Silver?”
Firefly winked at Silver and gave him an elbow jab. “Sure thing, PF. Come on, Whistle.”
If only I could let you leave, Prism mused with thinly veiled annoyance. “Actually, I need you two need to hear this.”
All three stallions shared a confused look just long enough for a hint of understanding to cross Firefly’s face. “Is that right? This should be entertaining. Do please enlighten us.”
Can’t believe tradition says I have to do this in front of his friends. Clearing her throat and hovering next to the table, Prism took a grey feather out of her mane she had pre-plucked, and handed it to Silver. “I want to take you on a Flight of Feathers.”
The two unicorns gave her a puzzled look while Silver was no better. His expected exuberant acceptance was instead a poster child of complete bafflement. “Uh, thanks?” he said hesitantly while claiming the feather. “Not sure what a Flight of Feathers is though.”
“Wwwhat?!” Prism all but jumped onto the table, casting the napkin dispenser aside. “How could you possibly not know what the Flight of Feathers is?”
Firefly scoffed at the irate mare. “Leave it to the scion of an alicorn to be all traditional.” Prism snorted angrily at him, only for Firefly to lean forward and rest his chin on his hooves. “Can I hazard a guess and say this FoF is some kind of mating ritual?”
Grinding her teeth in trying to remain somewhat calm, Prism got off the table. “It’s not a mating ritual, Firefly. It’s a time-honored tradition shared between Canterlot and Cloudsdale among…” Prism’s ire and ears wilted with her face burning bright red in embarrassment. “…Among aristocratic pegasi.” Oh Celestia, Silver was raised by the state after his parents died, of course he wouldn’t know! I’m so freak’n stupid!
“Well there ya go,” Firefly rebuked while waving dismissively at her. “Last I checked there’s only ten people in this colony who can claim to be nobles, and it ain’t anypony at this table.”
With her cheeks burning bright red through her fur, Prism backed off and made to leave. “S-sorry about that, guys, I just remembered I gotta go prep for – something.”
“Wait a minute!” Silver slipped under the table to avoid the food trays and crawled over and caught one of Prism’s back hooves before she got far. A feat that left more than a few dropped condiment stains on his engineer’s jumpsuit. “Lemme hear about this Flight of Feathers thing.” When Prism turned around, Silver climbed back up to his hooves and clasped one of her forelegs. “I mean, it sounds important to you, so I’m game to at least hear you out.”
A thankful smile crossed her lips as Prism settled back down to the platform. She tried to ignore the two stallions behind Silver, and distracted herself by running a mechanical finger through her hair. The act briefly exposed her horn. “The – the Flight of Feathers goes back like, since like the fall of Luna. It was a thing guard pegasi did to show…”
She clammed up after spotting Firefly and Whistle poking their heads closer. Just ignore them, PF. You got the public part done, just move on. “That they wanted to go beyond just special someponies.”
Silver stood stock still with his ears shooting straight up. “Whatever it is, I’m in, one hundred percent!”
Prism’s face brightened immeasurably, her embarrassment forgotten. “Yay!” She glomped the hapless bat stallion and crushed him in a bear hug. An act made slightly deadly with her burgeoning earth strength. “Oh you’re going to have so much fun! Just you and me!” She glared at Firefly who was quietly clapping his hooves at Silver. “And away from the peanut gallery.”
“Love you too, darling,” Firefly jeered with friendly mockery.
Prism pulled back, sneaking in a short kiss on the way out. Silver barely had a second to reciprocate her kiss before Prism detached fully. “Meet up with me tomorrow morning at the garage, oh six hundred sharp.”
“The garage? Why there?” The afterglow of the kiss bled out quickly upon hearing that, making one of his ears droop from weirded out surprise.
“You’ll see!” Prism whispered cryptically in his drooped ear before sprinting away at breakneck speed to the exit. She giggled to herself in anticipation. Now I just need to get Ruby to let this happen.
Silver’s gaze lingered on Prism as she vanished from the cafeteria. Any thoughts were abruptly cut off by Firefly all but jumping on his back and giving a congratulatory head slap. “Ha! What’d I tell ya, Batsy? I knew she’d be into you if you just showed a bit of spine at first.”
Silver could only partially pay attention to his friend as Prism’s declaration echoed in his head. Beyond special someponies. I wonder if I should pop the question after this Feathers thing. A blank, content smile lingered for a few moments as he basked in a dream come true. His rapture was long enough for Firefly to climb off and wave in front of his face without eliciting a response. Silver’s revelry ended in a snap as he realized the garage was the least romantic place he could think of. He turned around to see Firefly and Whistle were back at the table stealing his food. “Hey! That’s mine!”
Firefly scoffed and shook a dismissive hoof at him. “Puh leaze, you’re going to have plenty to eat tomorrow morning, am I right?” Firefly jabbed Whistle with an elbow, but the other unicorn was unresponsive as he scanned his personal display.
Silver groaned, but otherwise let the matter drop. He cantered back over to his seat. “What she and I do behind closed doors aside, do either of you know what a Flight of Feathers is exactly?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Firefly goaded as if he was speaking to a neophyte. He roped Silver in with a foreleg and poked the bat stallion’s chest with his other hoof. “It’s an invitation to get some lovin’ in, some ooo la la, some dy no mite,” Firefly said with suggestively moving eyebrows. “You’ve seen vids with aristocratic mares, you know how they love to think up weirdo names and ceremonies for stuff when it’s about getting a good rut.” Firefly adopted a terrible tone of a stereotypical highborn mare, “We don’t say those nasty plebeian words here in high society. It ruffles our oh so delicate sensibilities to scandalous proportions. Oh dear me.”
Silver yanked himself free from the unicorn’s grasp. “Does Prism even come close to looking and acting like the kind of mare? She may have a thing for a tradition or two, apparently, but she’s not one for confusing flowery talk, and nor is Twilight Sparkle last I checked. Or Praxia. Which between the three of them basically accounts for the entire aristocracy anymore. Besides, why would she want to do that… ‘ooo la la’ at HQ at the crack of dawn?”
At this point, Whistle called out as he closed his personal display. “You idiots could have just asked Voyager what FoF is.”
Firefly shrugged and spoke before taking a sip of soda. “What, and take all the mystery out of it? Where’s the fun in that?”
“Well I want to know,” Silver replied while giving Firefly a light smack in the ear. “She’s probably expecting me to do some research anyway.”
Whistle lived up to his name and whistled at the bat stallion while transferring the files to both friends’ personal displays. “I can tell you this much right now, the FoF is the furthest thing possible from a tail call.”
Silver grabbed his goggles off the table and pulled them back over his eyes. As he did so, he spotted Firefly light his horn to look at his own display. Silver Belle read the summary file on the Flight of Feathers. Two things happened within the span of a minute. Silver’s jaw fell open in abject terror while Firefly spat out his soda in choking uproarious laughter.
Firefly banged the table laughing his head off while trying to see a stunned Silver through teary eyes. “She wants to do that with you!? OOooo boy, you are one dead bat.” He shook his soda can at him. “My condolences.”
Whistle used a bit of magic to pull a piece of half-chewed hay off his shirt and patted Silver on the back. “I could ask Ruby to hamstring this. You-“
Silver cut him off with a hoof swipe. “No.” Summoning up enough force of will to harden himself from certain death, Silver focused on what mattered to him most: Prism’s love and respect. “I have to do this. Maybe she’s for real or maybe it’s just some test of hers.” She is the daughter of the Alicorn of Tests after all. And I’m pretty sure she still wants revenge for that fish pancake. “I have to do this.”
Whistle knew when to pick his battles. “It’s your funeral, or both of yours.”
A few hours later, Prism was at Pathfinder Headquarters standing in front of the couch and coffee table Ruby was currently using as her desk. With no other Pathfinders present, and the on-duty engineers busy repairing or upgrading the rovers, the pair had a measure of privacy. Ruby’s rifle was completely disassembled on the table she had pulled over with dirty rags and lubricants scattered about with everything on top of a microfiber cloth. Ruby had stopped her efforts and gently placed the trigger assembly down. “You’re going to have to run that by me one more time, because all I was hearing was word vomit.”
“It’s not vomit, it’s tradition,” Prism fumed, trying to come across as mildly cordial. “Granted I can’t take him on a proper Flight of Feathers like I could on the Old World, but I’m pretty sure I can adapt it.”
Ruby let off a groaning sigh and glared at Prism. “Look, Prism Flash, I may have grown up in the Crystal Empire, but I know about the Flight of Feathers. Going up against the toughest monster you can find out there, with may I remind you, an engineer who has barely any combat training is stupid beyond belief.” Ruby leaned back in her couch. “But considering the source, I don’t know why I’m surprised.”
“Come on, Ruby, it doesn’t take a genius to control an autocannon. I’ve even planned to give us a few days to practice. It’s not like Silver would be going up against a hydra or manticore with just a sword or spear like the old days.”
“I can’t believe I’m actually having this conversation.” Ruby rubbed her temples, trying to control an oncoming migraine. “Silver’s horrendous choice in mares aside, he’s a damn good engineer. I’m not about to authorize this asinine safari of yours.” Ruby jabbed a hoof at an increasingly irate pegasus. “Let’s make sure you haven’t been skipping the warning reports on the local fauna. Anything worthwhile for a Flight of Feathers is either quick and dangerous or huge and dangerous; just about all of those things will kill you on sight these days. Our standing orders are to avoid them at all costs.”
Prism propped herself up on the table to lean in. “Come on, Ruby, you know darn well that’s because we usually only have our rifles with us. Spike already said I could requisition one of the new combat rovers that’ve been rolling off the printers since two days ago.”
“Wait a second,” Ruby nearly barked as she looked Prism dead in the eye. “You want to do the Flight of Feathers in a vehicle that can’t fly?”
Prism’s cheeks burned red. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I have to edit tradition some more. It’s not like we have any two person attack aircraft, let alone any that I’m rated for. The light tank rover is the best I can do.”
“So much for holding tradition.” Prism refused to get baited by that statement, leaving Ruby hanging without satisfaction. Eventually, Ruby grabbed one of the cleaning solution bottles and upturned it to soak some rags. “I can’t believe you can still sit there and tell me you didn’t get that rover because of blatant nepotism.”
“Are you really going to pull that card again?” Prism chided, losing some of her diplomatic mentality. She squeezed her eyes shut to keep her temper in check. “The fact that Twilight is my mother had nothing to do with it. Some people out there are just old enough to respect tradition, in case you forgot just how long the Commander’s been alive.”
The scowl on Ruby’s face deepened, and she forced her attention away from the soon-to-be alicorn and back to cleaning her weapon. “You can think that all you want, but it’s a public secret he sees you as a niece.”
Prism pulled away from the table and took a few deep calming breaths. “Alright, Ruby, I can play your game. How about I cut you a deal?”
The red crystal mare huffed and continued cleaning her weapon. “…I’m not interested.”
“Just hear me out. I know for a fact you take it upon yourself to do the FUBAR assignments trying to keep up your ‘right to lead’. You give me this, and I’ll take any two shit assignments that come your way, provided,” Prism warned with a wagging finger, “it doesn’t interfere with the Flight of Feathers.”
“Assuming neither you nor Silver dies in the field,” Ruby countered.
“You know full well I’d do everything I can to make sure Silver gets back home in one piece,” Prism shot back. “Come on, Ruby, would you really say no to Brilliant Topaz if he asked you to do the Jewel Cascade?”
“The Jewel Cascade doesn’t involve going out and fighting monsters.” Ruby shot Prism with an inquisitive eye. “How do you even know about the Cascade?”
“Uhh… I was raised by like, the Purple Smart, duh.”
Ruby remained quiet for a solid minute, keeping her eyes fixed on her weapon as she cleaned it. Prism kept her face stony to keep any kind of smirk from ruining her chances. “Come on, Ruby, we’ve all been uprooted from the Old World. Sure we still have an alicorn on the throne, but that’s about the only tradition we still have. If you let me take Silver out there, then maybe other ponies will start to care about our culture more. How long do you think it would take before you crystals stop caring about the Jewel Cascade? One, maybe two generations?”
At that, Ruby stopped her cleaning, and blankly stared down at her handiwork. “Has Silver agreed to this farce?”
Prism couldn’t help but to grin. “Yup.”
“Did he even know what a Flight of Feathers was before agreeing to it?”
Her grin fell into one of sheepish guilt. “N-not at the time, but he’s probably asked Voyager what it’s all about by now.”
Ruby made a show of checking her display’s inbox and found no pleas for mercy from Silver. “A bunch of fraternizing foals. Fine, go on your stupid version of a honeymoon.” Ruby grabbed a guiding rod from the table and shook it at Prism as the younger mare danced on her hooftips. “But I’m holding you to your honor. The next time I’m called into investigating a miasma swamp or drone nest, you’re on the chopping block.”
“Deal!” Prism pumped a hoof in celebration. Time to get that tank moved over to the garage.
Praxia arrived at the Sparkle Science Labs rover hub to find Doctor Genome actually waiting for her on the raised steps at the doors. His frizzy orange and red hair gave Praxia the image of grass being on fire. “Ah, there you are, Regent Praxia, please, please, right this way!”
Praxia weaved through the mass of ponies leaving or arriving at the labs and joined the scientist who immediately started guiding her to their final destination. “Doctor, I must admit I was taken aback when I heard your work was so close to fruition. How have you managed such a brisk pace?”
The hallways were clogged with lab assistants and supply logistics personnel, most of them male with the new mothers on a short maternity leave. Yet Genome filtered through it all with practiced ease. “Oh you can thank the sim units for that. Are you familiar with them?”
Praxia had heard of them of course, and inwardly chided herself for forgetting about them. “Yes, naturally. We used them during the Seed Project to debug structural errors in the Seed Ships before construction. But I didn’t think the software could handle genetic tailoring.”
“It took me some time cajoling Binary Bit and her team to adapt a few for us,” Genome admitted with a mix of pride and self-satisfaction, “but it has been a smashing success. We’ve compressed decades of simulations down to a few months.”
The pair arrived at a set of double doors with a plaque above them stating: Fluttershy Genetics Lab. Within was lined wall to wall with computers. The center was taken up by a cobweb of holographic displays with other geneticists conversing with both themselves and the sim unit subsection of Voyager. On the far wall was a small enclosure similar to Alf’s original domicile. That had both a mare and stallion of each tribe of pony standing around impatiently with full environment helmets, but no body suits. They did however have a few sensors on them to monitor vital signs and other things.
Upon seeing the chief scientist and regent changeling arrive, the rest of the geneticists went into a slight panic trying to get the holograms into something presentable. Genome ignored his assistants while Praxia was a bit put off by the clutter. “Saying this for posterity, my fair regent, but we finished the genetic tailoring of our brave volunteers here. We would be honored if you witnessed the first set of non-alicorn hybrids to breath unfiltered native air.”
Praxia stepped up to the glass divider, prompting a few of the test subjects to wave nervously at her. “I must admit I’ve been looking forward to this day. Let’s see if you’ve been successful.”
Doctor Genome and half of the assistants joined her at the glass with him tapping the intercom on the edge. “Alrighty, everypony, the moment is upon us!” he cried with all the enthusiasm of a military commander psyching up the troops before battle. “Take those air filters off!” With another series of hoof gestures, Genome commanded the enclosure’s exterior doors to yawn open wide, revealing the ocean in the distance.
One by one, the ponies detached the muzzle part of their helmets off, leaving the ear and eye protection in place. Each of them took long deep breaths with some of them walking or flying over to the doors to make sure they got outside air faster.
“Filters functioning within optimal efficiency,” Praxia heard over her shoulder to find one of the assistants monitoring the read outs. “Particle concentration within the lungs is near zero. More than sufficient for natural removal.”
“Oxygen and CO2 exchange remaining steady within normal levels,” announced another one with increasing optimism.
“No signs of allergic reaction.”
Praxia returned her focus on the volunteers, allowing herself to only partially follow the announcements. Initial fearfulness had already fled most of them with the ponies hovering around the door, relishing the feeling of breathing unrecycled air.
“Most impressive doctor. How long until you think we can implement wide-scale gene tailoring?”
Beaming a triumphant smile, Genome’s hair almost seemed even more frizzy. “Immediately, Regent Praxia! I’ve even gone the extra mile to edit the volunteers’ gametes. Any children they have will inherit the filter.” Praxia shot him a dangerous look. “W-with their consent of course.” Praxia’s visage softened. “The sim units have already accounted for genetic drift among the entire colony, the chance of rejection is as close to zero as equinely possible. We even dedicated a separate sim unit solely for you and Commander Spike.”
“Glad to hear it. The Colonial Princess will of course have the final say before we can deploy the gene therapy colony wide, but I can grant you authorization to begin manufacturing the necessary gene editors.”
Thunderous cheering erupted among the scientists with Genome roping Praxia into a cheerfully crushing hug. Praxia was completely taken off guard and grunted trying to keep air in her lungs. All around her the scientists were jubilant to the point where flickers of love danced between them. Love that Praxia was more than willing to soak up. Love takes all forms it seems.
Genome dropped Praxia to her hooves and clapped to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, team, we have a lot of work ahead of us. So let’s get to it!” He turned around to press the intercom as the assistants scurried about. “Thank you all for participating in the next step of evolution! Please keep your monitors on juuust in case we missed something.”
Uh oh, I hope I didn’t jump the gun on approving this, Praxia worried with flopping ears. “Uh, Doctor, I hope those sim units are still running the data, right?” He nodded vigorously. “Good. Just keep some of those going as you move into live deployment.”
“Oh I planned on it,” he said with no reservation. “I want to move into projecting future generations to see if there might be some complications down the road.”
As much as Praxia was pleased to hear that, there was an issue she couldn’t leave be. Having the whole staff doing just that would be inefficient. I guess now is as good a time as any to present this. “Glad to hear it. But might I give some suggestions on how to move on to eye and ear adaptation?”
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Ok harmony rout well established and did I pick up on some supremesy and purity?
I had hoped the ritual fight to at least start in this chapter, after the previous one's cliffhanger.
Wait…
… magic transforming sandwich? It wouldn't exactly surprise me.
“Deal! Prism pum
Missing a " <- after deal.
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Well she did say she wanted a whole plate of sandwiches.
Metaphor became real life.
Purple Smart...
Your memeing is strong with this one
Yawn?
I'd thought you'd have the combat going this chapter, but I see the chapter title is referring to more than that.
Looking forward to the next installment. 
Nicely done chapter!!
No. They have a Dance of the Horny
How does biological modification fall under the purview of the chief engineer? I see you mentioned a biomechanical division, but wouldn't that have more to do with prosthetics than this kind of thing? This task seems more like something for Dr. Genome, whom Praxia even thinks about in the previous paragraph.
That is something I was wondering about... If the atmosphere was oxygen laden, and merely had organic particles making it unbreathable, why did everyone have to wear oxygen tanks instead of air filters when they went outside?
I've been re-reading the Hive series recently. Those of you who've read it, how much of that continuity do you think carries over to this story? After all, Praxia's description seems pretty similar to another royal changeling's description in that series. What do you think? Is she related to any of the queens from that series?
P.S. Neat fanart of Night Wind / Fire Shrine.
Me, maybe? Changeling queens are hot.
It's proceeding well. I like it.
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Egyptian and Greek Gods could be killed. Rarely happened, but there are a few.
As for the God of the Abrahamic Faiths. I wasn't misrepresenting. In the land of Canaan http://biblehub.com/judges/1-19.htm that god couldn't drive out the people because they had chariots fitted with Iron. As for the wrestling match. https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Genesis%2032:22-32 God wrestled with him physically, but when he wasn't able to win. Touched his hip and made it come out of the socket. Jaacob still won.
What I was getting at is that even he had weaknesses. And wasn't all powerful. Sure he bested lots of nations gods, but other nations got the better of his followers, in other nations he was tied. Doesn't make him better or worse. All deities have strengths and weaknesses. And there are many tiers of power.
That said, I know that all deities exist, and the "right faith" is whatever one chooses to believe. A soul goes to the spiritual / divine plane said soul resonates with. So I really don't play favorites, but at the same time I won't ignore the good or bad of any one pantheon.
I already caught up with the story? Aw, man.
Either way, well done crafting this world, and I look forward to the next chapter.
However, you'd do well to get as editor to clean up what's already there. There are quote a few SPaG errors peppering the story.
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We're working on it. A few weeks ago I offered to comb through all the previous chapters for errors, so they'll be resolved shortly.
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I feel the need to preface this with "I mean no antagonism here" because people get really testy online.
I remember that reference now.... sorry to burst your bubble, but it wasn't that God couldn't drive out the people, but rather that Judah was afraid of the iron chariots, so they faltered in their faith in God to deliver those Canaanites into their hands. They could very well have defeated them, but they thought they couldn't, so they didn't. And with the wrestling, the account wasn't about God's ability, but his testing of Jacob. Again, it'd be like you or I beating Magnus Carlson at chess: he must have had a reason to let us win because ain't no way we could win him all things being equal.
Online in a forum, I don't really care whether you believe in the God of the Bible (in real life is another matter), so I don't want to argue on this. But please, in the manner you'd yield an information discussion to a member of a fandom you're less familiar with, be it Star Wars, Star Trek, Zelda, Ender's Game, No Evil, etc., I'd kindly ask that you yield to someone a bit more familiar with the Bible. Within the biblical lore, the God of both the Old and the new Testaments has no weaknesses (Isaiah 46 - especially verse 9). He created everything, it was ruined, and he has a plan to restore it.
I'm not going to touch the "I know all deities exist" comment. *cough*howdoyouknow*cough* :)
You kept switching between "Flight of Feathers" and "Fight of Feathers." Not sure which you intended it to be.
3 days to catch up.