• Published 5th Mar 2016
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Earth Without Us - Starscribe



Human civilization ended on May 23, 2015, when everyone on earth became a pony. This is the story of how they lived, how they died, and what they achieved.

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Episode 1: Archive

Author's Note:

For those of you who read Eternal Lonely Day as of the 9th of March, this is the exact same content as "Epilogue 3." After serious reflection, I've decided to move it here for the sake of clarity.

For those who read Eternal Lonely Day after that time, this is the right place to start reading Earth Without Us.

Sorry for any confusion!

Archive didn't have long to wait for her assassination.

It came that very night, as a little vibration on her hoof jarring her awake, yet she forced herself not to struggle. In her silence she could gain a few moments to think, without the watchers knowing she had awoken.

Archive did not wake slowly, not when she was already so tense. A single moment was all she needed to collect her bearings and be ready. She did not hear Athena's voice in her ear. The vibration was the effect of a dead-man's-switch, connected to the same signal Athena used to watch her with cameras. Cutting Athena off from the sensors in Alex's room had also tripped the vibrator, silently alerting her of danger.

Archive kept her eyes closed, and opened another sense. There wasn't anything supernatural about it really, the connection she sensed to all beings. There were those in the HPI who thought her ability to sense their nature made her divine. She exploited that belief, but that didn't mean she deluded herself.

Archive found the thin cords that bound her to the assassins. No drones here — Athena's drones could not kill humans. Through the magic of her nature, Archive read their names, their history, and their intentions. There were three, each wearing active-camouflage and wielding only blades. She didn't hold on long enough to look and see why that would be. Why not just shoot her and be done with it? Why not roll an explosive through the doorway and run?

She saw their memories. Cutting the lights, a powerful jamming signal and a hacker to keep Athena's influence at bay for the few minutes the assassination would take. These men had come for blood.

Archive opened one eye in the gloom. The console set into the wall was the only light, its status indicator flashing red to indicate no uplink with the central core. Not that it would matter if there had been more light. Her assassins were almost invisible. One crouched behind the open doorway, one was creeping in along the floor to the left, another stood in the exit doorway with sword upraised.

Alex's sensitive ears could pick up the faint sound of their suit ventilators, but that wasn't how she found them. Instead, she kept her feeble connection to these men in mind, drawing on them as she never had before. She couldn't use such weak sympathy to influence their minds, not as she had done with the miners back in Motherlode. She didn't need sympathy to read their intentions, though.

“Stop where you are!” Archive jerked upright, throwing off the covers. Her motion came in a blur, almost too fast for human eyes to fully register. Thus was the second power of her new tribe, the only one that was of any use to her indoors. With no weather to control, Archive had only her speed.

That, and the knowledge of her entire species. “Gabe, Asriel, Zachary!” She shouted their first names, her whole body tense. She was a coiled spring, soon to snap. “I know why you've come. Leave now, and we can forget this. If you fight, you die!”

They stopped, and as one considered her offer. One, Gabe by the door, seemed almost on the verge of accepting her offer. She dared to hope for a second — but no. Another moment and he readied his sword, determined. Three humans would die tonight.

Her shouted declarations had done something, though: it revealed to her enemies that she knew they were here. Archive felt the change in Asriel before he even rose from his crouch — he intended to charge and cut her down. It was a good strategy, ending the fight before she could draw on her magic. Up here in the pony levels they were all wearing anti-magic suits. Even so, they were too well-informed to think those suits would protect them long from a pony with Archive's magic.

He lunged, moving with the lightning-quickness of a trained warrior. A sword of black metal was all she could see, if only by the blur passing through the air. Another second and he brought it down violently towards her, curved blade slicing the air with a harsh whine.

Archive couldn't see him, but she could see his thoughts. She knew where he was going to swing, and so she dodged out of the way at the last second, calling on the speed of her race. His short sword slammed down into her bed, slicing through sheets and pillows.

She jumped under one of his arms, aiming straight for the side of of a knee. The fabric of the suit was feather-light, and it offered no protection. Bone broke under the force of her hoof, and he screamed, dropping to the other knee and clutching at the injury.

The HPI could train scientists and technicians in martial arts and swordsmanship if they wanted. They could not give them the determination that came only from battle experience. Archive rolled, jumping back onto the bed. She dodged the human's head, braced the fallen sword against one leg, then shoved hard against the grip with her other forehoof. It shot forward, right into Asriel's gut.

Sparks exploded from the armor where she pierced it. The camouflage flickered and died, and she could see an agonized face through the faceplate. Archive twisted violently upward, slicing through most of his organs, then snapped her hoof down sharply on the flat of the blade. She chose the weakest point, and moved with all the speed of her tribe. Metal snapped, breaking most of the blade in Asriel's chest.

He slid sideways, gurgling as he died.

Archive took up the now-pony-sized blade in her teeth, ignoring the bitter tang of blood and the stench of ruptured guts. These people want to enslave what's left of humanity, she told herself. Their deaths save a million lives. Athena was better at using logic like that. Still, Archive was good for her word. Two of the assassins still lived.

The second assassin still crouched just outside the open doorway. Impressive restraint; maybe it would've been enough to kill a regular pony. Not Archive.

Instead of charging through blindly, Archive galloped to the very edge, then twisted her head sharply to the right. Her broken sword flew straight — straight into the second assassin's skull. Zachary didn't even flinch as he died, just dropped like a puppet with no strings.

She didn't take her weapon back. “Gabe, I know you didn't want to do this.” Archive glared straight at him, invisibility notwithstanding. “Drop that sword and I will break his chains.” She wiped the blood from her face with the back of one leg. “The Ancestors were noble; their backs were proud. I can show you why.”

“No.” His voice was muffled by the suit — stealth armor had no exterior speakers — but she could still make out his words. His hands shook, and the sword drifted down. He nearly dropped it. “I can't.” He took a step towards her.

“You can, Gabriel.” His sympathetic connection was still there, a little stronger after she had spoken. Archive tugged on it, pouring in all the magic she could. Magic alone wasn’t enough, and he kept advancing. “Your parents would be ashamed of you, Gabriel. They wouldn’t have sold themselves to Charybdis. They wouldn’t have given up the dreams of ten thousand years for the promise of an easy way out.”

He slowed, the sword no longer shaking in his hands. “I have no parents. I—"

“An artificial womb, I know.” Archive stepped towards him, spreading her wings. She had no armor, not even any clothes. “Your embryo was frozen before the collapse. Your parents sacrificed fantastic wealth to give their family a chance to survive into the world to come.” The connection was much stronger now. Archive reached back, finding the face she wanted. The face of Gabriel’s father.

Archive knew nothing of him, of course, but she didn’t need to. Gabriel would see the resemblance. Stern, wide features. Hooked nose, light scruff of facial hair. “Your father.”

He stopped advancing, the sword dropping nearly a foot. He didn’t let go.

“You didn’t know them, but your parents loved you. You were their future.”

He advanced again, though the step came even more slowly. He walked as though fighting his way through molasses. “I—”

She didn’t give him time to think. “Your mother has already returned. A dark red earth pony. She’s living in the city they’re building in Seattle, just a few miles from where she first returned. You have no idea how rare an opportunity you have! Almost nobody separated from their family gets to see them again.” Archive could not show her face; she could only count on the simple truth of her words.

“I can’t — they’ll kill me. I have to…” He raised the sword over his head. “Too late for me.”

Archive let him advance, unmoving. “The Order wants to make you a slave, but they can’t if you won’t let them.”

He stopped only a few feet away, sword high above his head. This close to him, the fur of her coat stood on end, drawn by the strange static the active-camouflage produced. Not that she needed it to find him. “He won’t let—” His voice was twisted and distorted, as though each word cost a great effort.

“I don’t care what it wants to let you do.” She pulled on the connection to humanity within him, however feeble. She spread her legs a little, bracing for the effort, then tugged. Her wings flared out as wide as they would go, and for a single instant light flashed. Wind rose around her despite the lack of connection to the sky, whipping up the papers from the nearby table, taking her pencils and drawing tools and tearing them away.

Gabriel was no slave to Charybdis, that would’ve violated the treaty. Yet his presence was still there, willingly invited. Whispering, encouraging, demanding. The other assassins hadn’t had even a flicker of regret or hesitation at killing her. This man, though… maybe he didn’t have to die.

He’s mine, Archive. You cannot take the power my servant chose to give me.

She did not respond, didn’t waste her energy. Instead she advanced, drawing in the strength of her every connection. The high priests of the Ancestors, refugees rebuilding in the world above, the ponies in Alexandria’s university. Motherlode’s miners. All of them. She anchored each thread to herself, then took Gabriel in her grip and tore.

He screamed, the sword tumbling from his hands. It fell beside Alex, hitting the metal and cracking along the blade. The man dropped to his knees, shaking all over. His suit flickered, then came into being; mostly transparent fabric with patches of circuitry, hugging tight to his body. Through the faceplate, Archive saw tears. “Why didn’t you kill me?”

Archive stepped forward, embracing the strange soldier, one wing around his shoulder. “Because we need you. You cannot be replaced.”

It took him a moment to form words, wiping vainly at his face with one gloved hand. Tears smeared onto the faceplate. “Y-you don’t… don’t understand…”

“I do.” Archive stepped back. “I’ll call High Priestess Arinee. We’ll make you disappear. Smuggle you into Bountiful. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“No!” He shivered. “That’s not what I mean!” He leaned forward, spitting out the rebreather in his mouth so he could speak more clearly. “Archive, we weren’t the only ones! We were—” he shivered, clutching at his head again and retching in his suit. She waited, letting him finish. “Your friends, the ones across the hall—”

In her chest, something froze. All this time she had been fighting, and she hadn’t even thought about her daughter! Archive kicked his sword away, towards the door. “My priestess will help you!” she shouted back. “Don’t stay here for them to find you!”

The door was before her, stubbornly closed. She fumbled with the console beside it for a second, prying off the shield. A few seconds of tinkering, and one of the lights flickered on. It slid open an inch. She braced one shoulder against it and shoved; her strength was enough to lift the door a few inches, but that was all. “Gabriel, help me! I don’t have time to fight with this!”

The man turned, then rose. He made his way over, bracing himself against the other half of the automatic door. “You’re already too late.”

“SHOVE!” He did. The door gave another few inches, gas whining from its mechanisms as it opened. Archive didn’t step out into the hall, or completely take her eyes from the man beside her. She might’ve banished the spirit from his mind, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still decide to attack. He didn’t though, and the hallway was empty.

Jackie and Ezri’s door was open. Alex took up the sword and slipped through the opening in her door, practically gliding across the hall into her daughter’s home. The place had been ransacked, photos torn, books off the shelves, glass table shattered. What she didn’t see was any blood, or the shells from any weapons. The lights hadn’t even been shut off.

She made her way back into the bedroom, but she already knew what she would find. An empty room, signs of struggle everywhere, but no friends. What she didn’t expect was that one of the consoles would be on. It displayed a face, sitting comfortably in her desk.

“Director Salazar.” Archive stepped up to the camera, not bothering with the formalities. “What did you do with my friends?”

The elderly woman leered at her through the camera. “Ah, Alex. Your friends are with me; safe.” She gestured to one side, and the camera panned. A pair of armored Centurions held them in their metal grip, too tight for them to struggle.

“You don’t seem surprised to see me.”

The woman’s smile widened. “Of course not. We found the ones we were looking for.” She gestured again to the side, at the armored figures holding her friends.“They’re waiting for you. Why don’t you come down here, and we can talk.”

“Your office?”

“No.” She rose to her feet. “Lower Engineering, central reactor. The sunlight is good for my complexion.” She leaned close to the camera, her expression hard. “You have ten minutes, Alex. If you’re not naked and unarmed when you get there, they die. If you’re late, they die.” Her image vanished, the signal cut.

Archive turned to leave before she had even finished. She didn’t think, didn’t consider, just moved. Yet she couldn’t ignore the voice.

“Wait!” That was Athena’s voice, as loud as she had ever heard it. Archive searched, and found a fallen gauntlet on the ground in one corner. The screen was cracked, but she could still see the AI’s image reflected there. “Don’t go!”

Alex slipped the gauntlet on and galloped out the door. “Transfer my credentials to this gauntlet, Athena.”

“You need to turn back, Archive. If you proceed further, I will be unable to assist you.”

“I know.” Alex practically flew through the halls, or at least as close as she could with no magic and no ability to fly. She was completely unprepared: no weapons, no armor, no spells. Not that the last of those would do her much good. Where she was going was as close as it was possible to be to the CPNFG. As she dodged down the halls and lept whole flights of stairs, she felt her magical reserves fading.

By the time she reached the engineering section, she was completely submerged in the field and had no magic left at all. The unpolished metal of the unfinished sections above gave way to smooth, white plates, sweeping in elegant vaulted ceilings. An even light radiated from them all, filling the entire entryway with sourceless brilliance.

“I cannot see within the reactor chamber. I cannot send drones within, or access the security cameras. If you go in, you’re on your own.”

“I know.” Alex had to jump to reach the scanner, waving her gauntlet in front of it. A light set into the wall went green, and the huge bulkhead began to retract. As it did, the vibrating hum of the central reactor rattled through her body. “I won’t let them kill my friends. I brought them here. I’m responsible if anything happens to them.”

“Your vision clouds, Archive.” Athena’s voice from her wrist had no more emotion than ever, yet she still managed to sound judgmental. “Their deaths, however likely, would have no significant impact. If something happens to you, on the other hand... you will not have completed our mission. If this cult survives, they might kill millions.”

“Or they might not.” The bulkhead had been half-retracted now, foot-thick steel rotating slowly away into the floor. A few more moments, and she would be able to get inside. “I can’t exchange a possible danger in the future for my friends in danger now.”

“The logic is simple, Archive. Your present pain and theirs is significantly outweighed—”

“It’s not about the logic, Athena. I understand your logic. I just...” She shrugged. “I can’t give life a value. Or... I can. Infinite value.”

“I do not understand.”

The door finished retracting, and a smooth white plate slid over it, completing the walkway. Far brighter light shone out from within. “When you do, you’ll have found your soul.”

As she passed into the reactor room, she watched Athena’s face vanish from her gauntlet. Ordinarily, the AI would still have access to this room through its cameras and screens, even if no wireless transmission was possible so close to the reactor.

She could sense the reactor even without looking at it, but she turned her attention on it anyway. The containment chamber was two-hundred feet across, a twisting donut pierced by supports and plasma injectors. Numerous little windows broke the metal, radiating artificial sunlight out into the room.

Even as her limbs shook with worry for her friends, even as she raged against the Order of Endurance and their audacity, she could not help but marvel at what she saw. Even before the Event her kind had struggled to master the stars’ great secret. Seeing the reactor was like feeling magic, but it was a kind of magic that no CPNFG could intercept. For an instant, she felt almost as though something from within were calling her. But how was that possible?

Archive continued past the reactor, ignoring the implacable impression. She kept the fusion chamber always close beside her as she moved, going slowly now. With every step, she scanned the area around her for signs of danger, watching for ambush. There was less than a foot of clearance under the containment area, not enough for a human to be hiding in the open area underneath.

The main reactor didn’t need human intervention, at least in theory. Yet she had never seen less than twenty technicians down here, swarming over their consoles on the outside wall, watching always for the first sign of danger. The fire that burned in the bones of stars needed to be carefully tended, lest it rage out of control. Yet tonight, she didn’t see a single person. No engineers, no technicians, not even any drones. The room was deserted.

Again something tugged at Archive’s mind, more insistent this time. It glowed from the magic of the reactor, demanding her attention. She stumbled, and time seemed to slow.

She was in the library, on the very top floor. The sky, ordinarily bright and glowing with light, raged with a storm that did not quite reach into the garden. The doorway leading further into the Dreamlands was closed: only a thestral could open it. Archive stood on two legs, wearing the body of a Valkyrie. Even so, the figure beside her seemed towering by comparison, his body hard and worn by great hardship. She turned to face him, taking in his features.

The man was not so young as he had been, and his hair had thinned on the top of his face. His body was covered with armor lined with gold, and a laurel of worked metal rested upon his head. For all the harshness to his muscles, for all the scars on his arms, the face she saw was neither condescending nor judgemental. Even so, he did not smile.

Archive rested one hand on her book, and inclined her head to the stranger. “Ave Imperator.” Though she had never seen him, Archive knew this man.

“Si vales bene est, ego valeo.” His response came in Latin also. It was fortunate she had taken the time to learn it. “But I know you are not.” He rested one hand on her shoulder, so large she felt herself a child again, though of course she was nearly twenty by now. “I see the pain in your eyes.”

She flinched, but didn’t look away. His eyes were dark, so dark they were almost black, yet she thought she saw love there. “I have no choice, shade.” Well, that sounded more polite than “hallucination.” She paused, glancing around the garden. She expected some soldiers up here, or at least a few senators. There were none, nor any other figures besides the two of them. “How are we speaking without magic?”

The man released her shoulder. “If men needed magic to do great deeds, our history would be a sore one indeed. No Hector, no Aeneas, no Theseus.”

That wasn’t much of an answer. Archive searched her mind, but could find no help there. Of course, nothing she saw indicated that magic was necessarily required to speak with this phantom. Perhaps seeing him here was evidence that it was all in her head. There was one thing in common, at least with all her previous visions: they seemed to take almost no time in the real world. Thank God for that, or else she would probably have been shot while she stood stupidly in place.

“Why you, then?” These things usually happened for a reason, right? Maybe if she figured out what the reason was, it could end and she could go back to saving her friends. “Aren’t you the emperor?”

He nodded. “I found Rome a city of bricks, and left it a city of marble. I labored all my life for that which reviled and hated me unjustly, and I was murdered in the house of my friends.” She could no longer look into his face anymore, not when it brimmed with such sadness. “If my life does not seem familiar to you, perhaps another reason. We have a vested interest in you, Archive. The shadow you cast into the future is a long one. These cowards have sold their souls to barbarian gods. In their hands are the last of our great bloodline, and they cast ruin and shame upon our name.” He reached down, resting one of his hands on the hilt of a golden sword. “Someone must ensure you survive. I am he.”

“You can’t do anything for me.” Archive didn’t sound dismissive or derogatory. Even so, she winced as she spoke. This was not the sort of man you wanted to disappoint. “Noble Emperor, we may have built our society in the shadow of yours, but you had already been dead for thousands of years. Unless you’ve made some contract with Pluto and you intend to return to help me here...” She shrugged. “You are but a memory, shade. They can’t see you, can’t hear you... and my time here isn’t unlimited.”

“I arrive as a reminder.” He took a step forward, narrowing the gap between them. “Your condition is not unique, and neither are your enemies. Neither my proclaimed divinity nor the greater gods I served protected me. For the sake of our species, you must survive — when you do, it will be because of your own strength. No artifice, no matter how sophisticated, can undo the truth of who you are.”

The vision began to fade. Archive remained where she was, wishing she could smile. “Nos morituri te salutamus.” She raised one hand in salute, touching it to her chest in the old way. The vision did not last long enough for her to see his expression in response.

Archive was a pony again, walking along the edge of the reactor. If any time had passed, there was no sign of it. She hadn’t been shot... well, nobody would dare bring any kind of projectile near the reactor. She hadn’t been stabbed, then.

As she walked around the reactor, searching for those she had come to meet, Archive tried to figure out how an apparently supernatural manifestation like seeing a dead emperor could happen so deep within the field of a CPNFG. She could remember only one clue: Sunset Shimmer hadn’t been able to visit Raven City when she built the spell that let humans become ponies. The magic of an Alicorn was so powerful it would’ve overwhelmed the field, even at its strongest. She had seen this aboard an ancient aircraft too, the night Taylor became a pony. Sunset’s power had nearly overwhelmed the CPNFG in a matter of moments.

Archive was no Alicorn. Was it possible she was starting to inherit some of the power even so? It wasn’t her pegasus nature, that was for sure. Her wings still didn’t feel like they fit. Further, she was completely underground. No path at all led through the airlocks to the upper wind, so none of that kind of magic could get to her. The other pegasus talent, supernatural speed, would probably have worked just fine down here, were it not for the field.

“We hear you coming, Honored Memory. Please hurry... I think your little friends are getting impatient.” Though the voice spoke her title in the religion of the Initiative, she said it with far more profanity than reverence. A few more steps, and Alex could see them.

Director Emma Salazar stood in her formal uniform, a flowing black coat that obscured her sleeves and went all the way to her boots. She carried no tools, though the soldiers at her either side certainly did. Her soldiers both wore the armor of full Centurions, rising to eight feet each of metal that could stop tank-shells. Neither carried weapons beyond the armor itself. Archive had seen Centurion armor stop a charging earth pony before. As a pegasus, well... a single strike would probably break half her bones.

Instead of weapons, one soldier held her friend and the other her daughter. Their grip was not tight, but it didn’t need to be. Neither struggled. Each had a finger gently on their necks; enough to kill them with ease long before they could escape. The soldiers watched Alex, not their prisoners. The message was clear: try anything, and they die.

“There was no need to kidnap my friends to speak with me, Director.” She stopped perhaps ten paces away, bowing in the formal way.

Salazar did not return the bow as protocol required. “I do as I will, Alex.”

For once, she wasn’t happy to hear her first name instead of the frustrating religious one they had invented for her. “Release my friends, Director. They aren’t involved in any of this, and they’re no danger to you. When they’re gone, we can talk.”

To her great surprise, Salazar complied. Or, almost complied. She gestured, and the soldiers released their grip on Ezri and Jackie. The ponies darted to her side. Neither wasted any time in running over to embrace her, Ezri with all the restraint of a child, eyes full of tears, while Jackie was more dignified. She shoved them away after a few seconds. “You two, get out of here. This is nothing to—”

She heard metal clanking behind her, though she tried to ignore it. What she couldn’t ignore were Salazar’s words. “They cannot leave, Alex. I merely permit them to reunite with you before...” She shrugged. “Well, before our unfortunate business is concluded.” She gestured, and another figure stepped up behind them. Another human, body concealed in the enfolding plates of Centurion armor. “Please, don’t run. The result would be... unfortunate.”

“There’s no way out,” Jackie whispered in her ear, as quietly as anypony could whisper. “I watched. Behind that door, she’s got a big barrel. I think she’s gonna... d-dump our—” Ezri whimpered, and clung to Jackie a little, hiding her face.

Archive forced them to meet her eyes, and did not whisper as she spoke. “They will not.” There was no sign of hesitation in her voice, no insecurity or doubt. Archive spoke as Celestia had spoken, as a pony so sure of something that no other outcome was possible. They visibly relaxed at her words, Jackie nodding a little. As their eyes met, Archive saw hope reflected in those big bat eyes. It was harder to see, but she could practically feel the emotion from the changeling. It burned in her, and for an instant it seemed something was calling her again, like another vision. She ignored it.

It had only been a few seconds. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Alex. You don’t yet know my intentions for you.”

“I can guess.” Archive took a breath, then advanced, placing herself between her friends and the Director. “You feel my political activities are out of hand. Very well; banish the lot of us to some deserted island. My friends don’t know where any of your stations are, they’re no danger to you. My word is good, Salazar. Search your records: I’ve never broken it.”

Salazar frowned. “Perhaps the animals you befriended couldn’t say where exactly this base is located... but perhaps they could. Without our secret, we are doomed. Suppose they noticed the time of sunset, or the times the constellations rise, or the composition of the soil... any number of these might provide another clue to those searching for us. However inferior the animals, they could overwhelm us if they came in numbers. No location, no matter how remote, would be suitable for abandoning any of you. Even if we sever your wings, there is a chance you will be rescued. However miniscule that chance, it is unacceptable. No...” She shook her head. “The only solution for you is the permanent solution.”

Alex shivered at the finality in her tone. Yet, Salazar was still talking to her, right? That meant there was at least some room for negotiation. Otherwise, she could've ordered her soldiers to attack. Once she did, their chances of survival were slim. Without magic, even several lifetimes worth of experience would do her little good. “Your only solution is the peaceful solution,” she argued, advancing. “Ask anyone on this base, read any record you wish, my word is my bond. I think it’s part of what I am.” She shrugged her wings. “Look, point is, you can’t kill me. Maybe you think you’re clever and you’ve got some secret cell down here to lock me away instead... but it won’t work. Ponies can’t survive in a thaumic-neutralization-field, not for long. Try and keep me down here, and I’ll just rot away and die. Or, maybe you’d like to test my immortality. Maybe you think the stories aren’t true.”

She advanced a pace, trying to look as intimidating as possible. “They are true, Director. I have seen beyond the iridescent veil, I have glimpsed the fathomless abyss. When I return, I will do so at a place of my choosing. Make an enemy of me by harming my friends...” She trailed off. Her word was good. She could not honestly say that she would turn the ponies of the world against the HPI. Not because she thought she couldn’t, nothing like that. Archive knew she could do it, if she had wanted to. But just because their leaders had become corrupt did not mean the regular people were. If ponies stormed this compound, far more good people would die than monsters. That she would not do. “... you’re gonna have a bad time.”

Salazar was quiet for a moment. Alex tried to read her expression, but could see little that suggested what she might really be feeling. This woman had served her whole life in politics, she was a master at hiding her feelings. Not to mention that humans were so much harder to read than ponies: their scents were much harder to judge, they had no big ears or tails. When she did speak, her words were measured. “Perhaps you have. The limits of magic have not yet been well explored, so I couldn’t discount it.”

Alex went on, emboldened. “Why does it have to be violence, Director? We have settled disagreements peacefully before. The HPI has persisted longer than so many other human organizations in part because it has remained cohesive. Even if you don’t agree with the religion, you must understand that killing me would not remove the reverence people have for their Ancestors.”

The director shrugged one shoulder. “Our Ancestors deserve some reverence, sure. They had the foresight to found the Initiative, even at great risk. They supplied us with what we would need to survive. They invented the technology that enabled us to remain self-sufficient when the rest of industry collapsed. For that they deserve our thanks, but... not our praise, and certainly not our loyalty. Holding to their vision for our morality... or even their vision of what humanity is. Charybdis has shown me what we might become if only we cut ourselves free of the anchor binding us to the past.” She gestured meaningfully at Alex.

“You couldn’t have known the Equestrians would use you to trap us in the inferior forms nature gave us. Use you to keep us weak, vulnerable. They knew we would want revenge the next time their world got close enough. When it does, Charybdis assures we—”

Alex interrupted, shouting now. “Are you insane? Read the history, Salazar! Equestria did not know any humans had survived, they didn’t intend me to trap you as anything. I don’t... understand what they did to me, but... any resistance my survival grants you to the soul warping Charybdis wants is to your advantage! I know you think that’s Equestrian propaganda—” She huffed. “Surely you see how fucking insane that is! I’m not saying it’s wrong for you to want to change ideology, or overcome human weakness through science or magic. All that’s great, but enslaving yourselves isn’t the way!”

Tears streaked her face as she continued, yet she did not falter or look away. “Look at the footage from raids with that demon’s 'human' followers! See the way he’s twisted and defiled them! Worse — ask a pony to tell you the state of their souls. Or wait, I will. They’re fucking gone! They’re husks, and that’s exactly what you’ll be! Whatever you want, I’ll help you get it! Whatever abilities, whatever powers. I know magic better than most Equestrians! What’s better, I’m human! Or I was, anyway. I want you people to be successful! If you really think making war with Equestria is the right thing to do, then fine! Just... don’t do it as slaves! Please, God... don’t do that to yourselves! You’re so much better than that!”

For all her passionate words, Salazar did not seem convinced. “How will your magic bring you back if you die within an anti-magic field, Alex? Do you really think the spells the Equestrians made for you are stronger than Paradise Crater's core?” She gestured up at the ceiling, where Alex knew the CPNFG itself resided, consuming the vast majority of this reactor’s output. It was so powerful that the animals for miles around this base had lost their intelligence, so powerful that, when it had first been installed, they had to lower its strength, because pegasi who flew anywhere nearby would fall out of the air.

Archive did not know if her immortality could break through that much anti-magic. If she died here... what would happen? Would it really be that easy to kill an immortal? Salazar was probably wrong, of course. But Archive had never died within a field, and until now there had never even been a field like Paradise Crater. Too bad she didn’t have the time to call Sunset and ask.

Archive took a breath. “You’re better off taking your chances with that after you let my friends go. Do that... swear that they can live their natural lives in peace... and I won’t retaliate if you fail. I will still give you my word.” She heard Ezri gasp, Jackie’s teeth practically grinding together. Yet neither spoke. They understood that this negotiation was hers.

Salazar again seemed to consider. She stood still, muttering to herself in a tongue that Archive did not speak. This was itself remarkable, since so far as she knew she understood all human languages. She reached out, extending her mind to the realm of connection as Sunset had taught her to do. Evil or not, these people were human. She ought to be able to...”

Archive would’ve thought the CPNFG was somehow cancelling out the magic, except that she could sense three connections in the room quite clearly. Jackie’s bonds were the tightest, not to her as a person but to the humanity that still wasn’t that far away. Ezri, though only the child of a former human, had evidently picked up enough of the attitude that the bonds came from her, too. The third connection went to the soldier behind her, more tenaciously than Ezri's but still clearly visible to her.

Director Salazar and the soldiers at her either side were something Archive had never seen before: humans she could not sense. Strong cords bound them all right, so thick that she had been amazed she had not noticed... yet none went to her. Something had stolen her connection to her very own species. The very creatures she had been created to remember and preserve had gone unbound from her.

It would have been wonderful to have the strategic advantage, but even that was not her first thought. It was like looking into a mirror and seeing a stranger’s reflection. It was more horrible than anything Salazar could’ve said. Even so, the very sound of her words seemed to darken and dirty the air, like a stream of guttural profanity. She wore no communicator, yet she paused more than once as though she could hear responses from nowhere.

When she finally looked up, her eyes had grown darker than ever. Before she even spoke, Archive knew what she would say. No matter how generous the compromise she offered, nothing Archive had to give would be enough. It was not really the director whose will was in opposition to her. Director Salazar might have taken one of her compromises, but Charybdis never would.

So instead of waiting for her to speak, Archive spun around and looked directly at the camera in the soldier’s visor. Looked, and tugged on the connection she felt to the man inside with all the strength she had. She shouted, her voice echoing around the room. “You know the chains Salazar wishes to bind you with, Isaac! Help me break them!” The armor had no names printed on it, but she needed none. Her connection to the young man’s essence was enough.

“Kill them!” The director retreated a pace, though not towards any of the doors. The bloodlust in her eyes made it quite clear she intended to enjoy the killing in person. “The pegasus last! Let her see her friends die.”

The pair of Centurions advanced on them, shaking the earth with each step. She glanced behind, searching Isaac’s soul for any sign of what he was about to do. She need not have bothered. “Memoria Nobilis!” There was no trace of hesitation in him, no doubt or fear as there had been. Isaac burned with the zeal of any of her most loyal supporters.

Again, time slowed. Archive could not move faster, but she could think. She considered the Centurions ahead of them, a pair heavily armored and completely beyond her ability to influence. Suppose crewman Isaac was as strong as one of them, that still left one centurion and an angry but unarmed director. A director insane enough to order her killed in the main reactor room. What if the fight went badly? Even minor damage would probably kill everyone down here instantly... and anything more serious could potentially destroy the entire base. Was that what Charybdis really wanted? His treaty would not allow him to strike at the HPI, but... if it destroyed itself, he wouldn’t have to.

Centurions charged, shaking the earth with slow-motion steps. If she couldn’t damage the reactor, what could she do? Archive examined her resources:

1. Two sets of pointy teeth, on Ezri and Jackie.
2. Her own considerable skill in physical combat.
3. Higher speed and dexterity than either of the armored humans would be able to manage in their bulky suits.
4. One loyal Centurion, currently occupied.

Was that a conflict she could win?

Archive heard the emperor’s voice in her mind, as clear as it had been ten minutes before. “You will succeed because you have no choice.”

“Under there!” Alex gestured furiously towards the reactor, shoving on Ezri with one shoulder. The gap under the containment chamber might not be large, but it was more than wide enough for a pony to wiggle under without touching any of the casing. Alex spoke with such authority that her friends did not resist, scrambling away. There were ladders that could be used to access that space, but none of them were within convenient reach of someone wearing Centurion armor.

So long as they stayed inside, her friends would be very hard to hurt. Kill her friends first, huh? Archive’s eyes locked on the retreating director, and she knew who her first target would be. Centurion Isaac charged past, intercepting one of the other armored figures and taking them straight back with a charge into the rear wall. The other slowed a moment, watching the ponies clamber under the containment chamber, then began a charge of their own.

In that moment, Archive was reminded of another important truth: though trained in unarmed combat, even the HPI’s most skilled soldiers never trained for unarmed combat in armor. Why bother, when there were assault weapons literally built into the suit? Archive leaned to one side, as though preparing to jump out of the way, but feinted to the other side at the last moment. Her attacker fell for the feint, jumping in a way that would’ve pinned her and collapsing violently to the ground.

Unfortunately for them, Archive had already charged past. She ignored Isaac and the other, and instead charged straight for Salazar’s retreating back. This woman hadn’t just ordered her friends murdered, she was also either loyal to or enslaved by a soul-devouring demon. Archive would feel no remorse in her death.

The pegasus crossed the space far faster than the soldier could follow. “Director, look out!” he shouted from behind her, his voice distorted by the suit. Archive had very little weight, particularly as a pegasus, so she used her speed instead, kicking out with all the force she had.

Salazar’s sudden turn saved her life. Instead of taking the kick in the spine, Archive’s hoof connected with her side, right in the gut. The force of the kick sent her tumbling backward and twisting in agony, but it did not kill her. She writhed, rolling onto her back and fumbling around in one of her pockets. The Centurion closed, lunging for Archive again. Again she dodged, twisting smoothly between his arms this time. She didn’t bother striking him; the armor was too tough for even a strategic blow to make a difference.

But the director was unarmored. Archive jumped again, right for her head. Yet as fast as Alex was, this human was apparently faster. Salazar rolled at the last moment. The blow connected with the woman’s jaw, snapping it in one place and dislocating it with a sickening crunch. Blood flowed, yet the woman did not die.

The Centurion froze a few feet away, glancing between Archive and the director. Isaac and the other Centurion hadn’t noticed, and seemed to be beating each other to a pulp alongside one of the control consoles, which their collective mass had apparently flattened.

Salazar didn’t struggle or scream, as Archive had expected. Few humans experienced the agony she had to be feeling, particularly when they grew up as a sheltered, protected class in their secret bunkers. Yet she didn’t scream or cry out. She just kept fumbling, at least for another few seconds.

The next thing Alex heard was the sound of a gunshot. It wasn’t loud; there was no gunpowder involved in the magnetically-accelerated rounds. Even so, the bullet went right through Alex’s torso, spraying blood and tearing flesh as it went. The pain was so intense that Archive dropped almost at once, gasping. She too had long ago mastered her pain, but... that didn’t mean her body could ignore the damage.

Ezri screamed, her voice growing distant and stretched. Archive struggled to get her legs under her again, but found they refused to comply. The shock of the blow had done terrible harm to her insides, probably enough to kill her. She gasped. “Used a... gun... in the reactor... chamber...” and as much blood came from her mouth as words.

“Aiming straight up.” Salazar’s mouth barely moved as she spoke, and her voice didn’t sound much healthier than Archive’s. Even so, her wounds were minor by comparison. “Insurance. You’ll die for good now, Archive. Your friends... the traitor... all of them.”

“No!” Where Jackie had come from, Alex couldn’t see, yet the gray blur of her form soared overhead, fangs bared for Salazar's neck. The other Centurion, content to watch Alex bleed, was not so slow that he couldn’t catch her. One of her wings tore under his grip, and several little bones broke under the carelessness of it, causing her to retch with agony. Even so, her eyes were determined. She did not stop struggling.

The world grew gray. Archive’s body was soaked with her own blood, and her heartbeat came irregularly now. It wouldn’t be long after a blow that severe, from such a range. The bullet had missed her heart, but that hadn’t mattered. It was probably going to kill her. Ezri charged too, rage practically glowing from around her, and the centurion swatted her aside like an insect. She fell, and one of her chitin plates broke from the force, her wings mangled beneath her.

“I have the traitor!” shouted a female voice from somewhere distant, her voice imperious. “Give the order and he dies!” Alex realized that, indeed, the sound of struggle had stopped. She was going to die, then all who had believed in her or trusted her would die too. Her foolish attempt to repair the corruption of this organization would end, whether she returned from the grave or not. How would she ever live with herself after getting Ezri and Jackie killed?

She saw Jackie’s face, twisted with pain, yet still watching her. She no longer struggled, but neither did she look as though she had given up. Though it obviously caused her great pain, Ezri rose to her hooves again, preparing for another charge. Archive saw her eyes, and saw the Truth reflected there, the Truth she had been searching for since she had come back from Equestria. She saw her purpose there, if flickering only dimly.

Archive screamed. Power flooded into her, vast beyond anything she had felt. Magic crackled through the air around her, strong enough that she defied her wound and stood. The bleeding stopped, wound cauterized by the force of it. Alarm sirens blared from all around the room, flashing with ‘thaumic exposure’ warnings. Archive felt the power filling her, hot enough that she could begin to ignore the wounds. The light glowed from around her forehead so brightly that she no longer saw gray, or even the orange of the engineering lights. She saw white, and through it the place she had been longing to go. The place she had been missing.

The Centurion in front of her dropped Jackie and began to convulse, shaking in the characteristic agony of magical poisoning. The director too had dropped her gun, collapsing back to the floor as she screamed. Archive did not know how long the power would remain. She did know that she couldn’t stay here anymore, not manifesting a power like this. There were no decks lower than the reactor, so disrupting the field here would harm nobody else. Yet if she remained, the CPNFG might fail entirely, killing everyone inside.

She had to go, and she knew exactly where. Archive screamed as she slashed out at the air in front of her, tearing open a rift in the world. This wasn’t like a teleport, calculated and precise. Instead of delicately folding through the universe, she simply tore it open with the raw force of her will. Brilliant, scorching light poured through from the gap, brighter than Death Valley had ever been. Even so, it did not burn. Archive didn’t know where the tear would take her, but she knew she had to go. “Get in!” she shouted, gesturing to her injured friends. Together, Ezri and Jackie limped towards the rift, vanishing.

She didn’t leave herself, not yet. Isaac lay on the ground on the other side of the room, convulsing in his armor along with the others. Archive forced her will upon his armor and tore it off his body in a few smooth strokes, casting it aside as she might the petals from a flower. Underneath, the young man wore a skintight fluid-cooling suit over most of his body. Even so, the part she could see, the face and hands, did not bode well for his health. Thick black blisters had formed on his skin, and his eyes rolled back into his head. Blood dribbled from his mouth, and he had clearly lost consciousness.

Archive lifted him too, fully conscious her magic was doing even more damage. This man had wagered his own life in her defense; he deserved better than being abandoned here to die. Wherever that light came from, he had a better chance of living than here. She lifted, then shoved him through the rift. The opening seemed reluctant to take him, as though someone were pushing back on the other side. Archive’s will was stronger. She concentrated, digging up every spell for insulating a passenger and dispelling force, and casting them at once without a second’s hesitation. The young Isaac finally slid through, though the skin on his face had been burned almost black by the time he had.

Archive moved to follow, marching purposefully towards the rift. Beyond it waited... well, the rest of her soul. Once she made it there, she would be complete at last. Even if the vast power of her awakening would fade, she would still be a powerful ally for humanity. Celestia’s vision for her would be fulfilled.

She felt the next gunshot as though it were happening to someone else. She looked down, and almost didn’t believe it. Pain swelled, and blood pooled from the wound. The edges of her rift began to fuzz as her concentration faltered. She surged against the pain, glancing to the side as she advanced another step.

She felt another gunshot, this time in the neck. It missed the spine, but sent blood gushing as it passed. Archive’s eyes widened as she saw the one holding the gun.

Director Salazar was no longer convulsing on the ground. She seemed different. Her flesh, pale from a lifetime in the dark, was already turning angry green, particularly around her neck and injured jaw. Instead of blood, brackish slime dribbled from her wounds, staining her jacket. She fired again into Alex’s torso. “Humanity must adapt,” she muttered, her voice guttural and strange. Another gunshot. “Your time is over, Archive. Humanity no longer needs you. We will be weak... no... longer!”

Powerful as the magic was, it evidently was not infinite. Around her, the CPNFG’s antimagic field crashed down again. The rift collapsed with a deafening boom, shaking her from her hooves. The magic gathered around her forehead flickered once, then vanished, taking the light with it. Archive screamed as colors fled her vision again, her heart laboring for a few last beats.

“F-forgive—” Archive’s breathing stopped. Her willpower held her for another moment, just long enough to see Salazar’s satisfied expression distort beyond anything that had ever been human.

Then she died.