Red Wings

by PropMaster

Chapter 6

- Chapter 6 -

The Crimson Score flew above the Wastelands, heading south towards the marked ‘x’ on Wendy’s map. Red was a wreck, his ears drooping and his eye glazed with exhaustion. He’d been piloting for a few hours, maneuvering low to the ground to more effectively break the line of sight of any would-be pursuers. He sincerely hoped that the Ogres in the crater decided to leave him be; he doubted that he’d have the skill to evade any more experienced pilots for any amount of time. The Score may have been bulky and well armored, but it had no way to defend itself in the air; if Red was forced to confront any attackers he’d be in serious trouble. As it was, he already found himself making stupid mistakes and his lack of sleep was causing his focus to drift: a dangerous thing to have happen while flying an airship.

Red glanced back towards the crew compartment as he heard the sound of paw pads on the deck, and was met by the grim visage of Ace. The older Diamond Dog’s eyes were bloodshot and scarlet, and he stared through Red for a moment before focusing on him. Ace reached out and gave Red a pat on the head, a normally condescending gesture that was oddly comforting in that moment.

Red opened his mouth to speak, but ended up coughing instead. He cleared his throat and said, “Hey Ace.”

Ace nodded in reply, and Red asked, “You here to take over?”

Nodding, Ace gestured towards the copilot’s seat. Red gratefully slid out of the pilot’s chair and into the infrequently used copilot seat, and Ace took the controls of The Crimson Score from him. Ace gave Red a sidelong glance, dropped his head to his chest, eyes closing briefly and his mouth going slack, before looking up at Red. Red gave Ace a weary nod. “Yeah. I’m beat. You know where we’re going?”

Ace nodded, pointing to the map on the control surface and the marked location on it. “Do you know what’s there?” asked Red.

Ace didn’t react, simply focusing on flying the ship. Exhaling, Red leaned back in his chair and watched the dark sky. He closed his eye, sighing, trying to sleep, but every time his eyelid shut all he could see was Quint’s head snapping back as the bullet pierced his skull. Red shifted uncomfortably for several moments, until Ace glanced at the younger dog quizzically. Sighing, Red asked, “Ace, what you did back there...”

Ace’s eyes hardened, and he turned and looked out the front viewport once more.

Red’s ears drooped. “Too soon?”

Glancing away from the viewport at Red, Ace exhaled slowly and nodded once, a pained expression crossing his face briefly. Red nodded. “Okay. That’s okay. Just... thank you. You saved my hide back there. I was so exhausted that—”

Without looking away from the controls, Ace reached over and clamped a paw over Red’s muzzle, silencing him. Red grumbled quietly and leaned back in the copilot’s seat, closing his eye again. He tried to clear his mind, but he was so tightly wound up that he found the task impossible. Red stood up from the copilot seat, announcing, “I’ll be in the storage room.”

Ace gave Red an acknowledging nod in reply, and Red walked back to the storage room, sitting down at the table. The table was a mess, covered with the accumulated junk he’d thrown out of his satchel in his haste to mount a rescue almost two hours ago. He began sorting through the stuff, tucking away his journals, charcoal writing implements, and various other odds and ends, until all that was left were the clock parts he’d collected, along with the three books he’d retrieved from the reliquary in the ruins. Red perused their titles: ‘A Foal’s Guide To Magic,’ ‘A Treatise on Unicorn Physiology,’ and ‘Leylines Across Equestria.’

On a whim, Red flipped open ‘A Treatise on Unicorn Physiology,’ and began to read.

...while all ponies possess similar physiologies in most regards, unicorns and alicorns are uniquely blessed to be able to manipulate leylines through use of their ‘magicae cornu,’ commonly called the ‘horn.’ Each unicorn’s horn is, itself, a tiny leyline, and is connected to the world’s leylines through the energies displayed between natural or ‘wild’ leylines and the organic leylines...

Red yawned, feeling his eyelid droop lower, and chuckled to himself on such an astute choice of bedtime reading. The tome was very dry, though certainly full of information. However, the last pony was no unicorn; that much Red was sure of. Why she’d been carrying unicorn horns was far beyond his understanding. Red skimmed the next group of pages, looking for something to catch his attention. His eye widened, and he sat up in his seat as he read on.

…the unicorn’s horn can store magical energy, building a charge over time even without nearby natural leylines, simply due to the fact that it is a leyline as well, albeit a small one...

Chuckling, Red tapped the side of his head, pleased with his own knowledge. “Who needs you, book? I figured that out on my own. I bet it even mentions using lunar dust to store magical energy somewhere...”

…if a unicorn allows this energy to build up beyond a certain point, it can result in headaches and magical sensitivity, similar to a sore tooth. The easiest way to reduce this energy is to simply use magic...

Red snorted. “Easy for you to say.”

… or, in the unlikely case that this is not possible, to drain the magic through use of mana batteries. Though more advanced mana batteries can be created with gemstones and advanced enchantment, lunar sediment...

“Bingo.”

… lunar sediment may be used to hold the charge of magic power. A unicorn simply must focus their magical current and direct it into the lunar sediment. Though direct contact can serve to drain minor amounts of energy, this is never enough to fully remove the charge from the horn. The charge will continue to build, until the horn becomes overcharged.

“What? That’s impossible, I’m certain injecting the lunar sediment worked.”

Failure to reduce the charge from a horn completely can result in extreme magical sensitivity, to the point where shifting leylines can cause minor to severe headaches, or the use of advanced and highly powerful magic can set off a magical reaction through the sympathetic resonance between leylines. This can cause extreme pain, massive migraines, unconsciousness, and hallucinations. In extreme cases, where the unicorn’s horn has become overcharged, they may even experience spell-like side effects from the highly powerful magic spells being cast. These spell-like side effects usually mimic the triggering spell in some way...

Red blinked. “The use of advanced and highly powerful magic?”

Frowning, Red set the book down. He was too tired to process the information fully. This was important though, and he knew it. He rubbed at his eye, setting down the book and marking his place. Standing, Red moved out of the storage room and into the crew cabin, lying down in one of the bunks. He closed his eye, trying to untangle the information he’d just learned and draw rational conclusions. He began to drift off, and was soon asleep, lulled by the motors of The Crimson Score.

---

Red’s eye snapped open as he awoke with a start, sitting up in the bunk. He stood up and moved back to the storage room, grabbing the copy of ‘A Treatise on Unicorn Physiology,’ flipping it back open to the most recent page. Squinting, Red scanned down the page, until his eye fell on the passage he was looking for.

“Resonance from the use of advanced and highly powerful magic can cause massive headaches, hallucinations, pain, and unconsciousness...” he murmured.

Red sat down in a chair, trying to piece things together. Things were beginning to make sense. He’d been having those smaller headaches ever since he’d been impaled by the unicorn horn, and he’d been able to reduce the magical charge the horn had been accumulating by using the lunar dust. He still injected himself every few days, out of habit, though recently it seemed that his symptoms were getting worse, and the lunar dust was not helping. This explained why—he was dealing with more than shifting leylines.

Somewhere, someone was using magic, and Red had a good guess as to who was responsible. “Gluestick,” he growled.

The unicorn horns strung on the pony’s hoof were explained now. Though the pony wasn’t a unicorn, she must have found a way to harness the energy stored in the horns to use magic, and it seemed that recently she’d been dabbling in more than just minor sorcery. Red shook his head, something in the back of his mind highly impressed by a non-unicorn having learned to harness ‘advanced and highly powerful magic.’

“What are you up to, pony? What spells are you using?” he muttered quietly.

A paper airplane soared through the air and hit Red on the side of his nose, interrupting his train of thought. Red blinked, unfolded the paper airplane, and discovered Wendy’s map and note. He turned looking forward to the bridge, only to see Ace smirking back at him and waving. Red stood up and walked over to Ace, giving the older dog a hesitant smile. “Hey. What’s going on?”

Ace snagged the paper airplane out of Red’s paw and pointed to the ‘x’ marking, and then drew his finger north a small ways to a large dot marked ‘Petra.’ He tapped his claw on the big dot, and then gestured to the copilot seat.

Red sat down next to Ace, watching out the forward viewport with interest as The Crimson Score dropped through the thick cloud cover. As the Score breached the clouds, Red gasped at the sight before him. A massive construction grew from the ground, an immense and multi-tiered spire of iron that glowed with thousands of internal lights. The construction pierced the clouds and disappeared in a surreal orange glow, hiding the upper tiers of the hive-like construction. Red looked at Ace, at a loss for words, and even Ace seemed a little more serious than normal, faced with the sheer scale of the incredible conglomeration of imp-built platforms. “This is Petra?”

Ace nodded, and pointed to the radio. Red powered up the device, spinning a dial to listen in to different frequencies, but did not find any communication directed at their ship. He smiled as he stared at the massive city, its lower tiers tapering slowly skyward. Counting, Red spotted over twenty individual platforms that were gigantic in size, bigger than any city he’d ever seen. Comparing the two were not really possible though. A normal city sprawled, spreading across the landscape, while Petra was a study in conservation of space. There were no open areas, no wasted space. Everything had purpose, and that purpose was industry.

Various hovercrafts and airships swarmed around the city, transporting goods to and from different tiers. Red could see tracks that ferried steam-powered locomotives around the spire, bringing passengers and materials between the lower platforms and the center of the towering construction. Hidden deep within the bowels of the city, some massive industrial construction that glowed with the orange light of a smith’s forge lit the entire central area. Steam and smoke billowed from stacks all across the struts, filling the air with a smog that permeated the entire sky.

Red swallowed. “So, this is where Wendy lives?”

Ace shook his head, and tapped the map, gesturing to the ‘x’. Red nodded. “Oh, right. Petra is separate from her ‘x’ on the map. So, we’re just passing through?”

Instead of replying, Ace suddenly squinted out the forward viewport. Red followed his gaze and spotted two goblin airships approaching rapidly. As they approached, the radio squawked at them. “Attention unknown vessel, this is Petra Air Defense. You are entering Petra airspace. State your intentions; failure to comply will be met with lethal force, over.”

Red considered briefly, before replying, “Petra Air Defense, this is The Crimson Score. We intend to dock briefly within your city before continuing on south. We need to take on supplies for our journey.”

Ignoring Ace’s quizzical expression, Red gestured towards the city. Ace scowled, and banked the score towards the massive construct. The radio crackled a reply. “Crimson Score, Interceptor Squadron Nine will escort you to outbleeder landing platforms, located on Strut Nine. Deviation from their flight path will be interpreted as hostile action. Petra Air Defense, out.”

Red chuckled. “Twitchy little imps, eh?”

Shrugging, Ace piloted the Score into the massive city. The two interceptor ships led them towards one of the lower struts of the city, and Ace followed their flight path. Red smiled, still awed by the sheer scale of Petra; he’d never imagined something so colossal could possibly exist.

They approached the city proper, the scale of Petra becoming rapidly apparent. The city was a massive tribute to industry, culture, and technology. Tenement halls and warehouses, massive complexes of housing and factory buildings filled each strut of the great imp city. The place seethed with activity as imps moved materials and goods from place to place, airships loaded cargo at a plethora of berths and docks, and trains ferried raw materials up from the lowest struts and in from the surrounding hills and mountains. The single strut of the city that they were approaching was nearer to the bottom, and as they flew closer to their destination, Red peered down towards the lowest reaches of the city.

Thousands of imps worked below the city, harvesting what appeared to be clouds of steam from a massive ruined city that spread across the whole of the base of Petra, partly buried in a massive crater that was many times larger than the one Red had grown up in. Red quickly understood why the imps’ chief export was steam powered technology and the pressurized steam batteries that ran it. Oil fires burned down in the depths, and slag from foundries poured into the pits, adding to the hellish atmosphere of the crater’s shadowed landscape.

Getting closer still, Red began to ascertain the structure of Petra, and how it supported itself. The central core of Petra, a massive stalk that pierced into the sky, actually was less of a straight construction and more of a tapering spike. Each strut was a massive circular platform, holding three levels of buildings, like three blocks of the ruined pony cities stacked atop one another. The struts were positioned equidistantly around the tapering central stalk in a spiraling formation. The uppermost struts were slightly smaller, their edges showing signs of construction towards expansion.

The central stalk seemed to be a hub of all industry, as all the raw materials flowed into the center of the vertical city. The interior of the stalk glowed with reds and oranges; light from a thousand forge fires and metal foundries illuminated the areas of the struts closest to the stalk. The flash of lights from loading docks and vehicles moving into and out of the stalk revealed that they wound underneath scaffolds and walkways and catwalks with grates and porous metals that allowed the light to pass through them.

Red was in awe. Petra was more than a marvel of construction and ingenuity—it was a beacon of radiance. The all-metal aesthetic of the imp’s construction made the city shine. Brass edged almost every building, and aluminum covered every roof. Even the rusted metals sparkled with flecks of iron and corrosion. The darkest places of Petra were brighter than even the most well-lit of the Diamond Dog caverns where Red had grown up. His species could see far better in low light conditions, certainly, but that did not change the fact that, to him, this city was a light in the darkness of the twilit wastelands.

“It’s beautiful.”

Ace smiled at Red and gave him a pat on the head, obviously unmoved by the sight before him. The Crimson Score closed with the strut that the two imp hovercraft were guiding them to, and Red gestured to the lit path into a ship berth designed for larger vehicles like the Score. Ace nodded, seeing the landing lights delineating their berth, and carefully brought The Crimson Score in, landing without issue. Red stood up and clapped a paw on Ace’s shoulder. “I was thinking, Ace. We need to send off Quint. Honor his memory, in some way.”

Ace scowled, shaking his head and crossing his arms, obviously not interested. Red scowled back at him. “Why not? I think it’s important. Besides, I’d really like to see this city up close, and I need to get a few things for the ceremony.”

Shaking his head, Ace sat obstinately in his seat, not moving. Red sighed. “Fine. You sit and stew in it. I’ll be back shortly, after I’ve gathered a few things.”

Ace shrugged at Red, and Red turned away, heading out of The Crimson Score and into the massive city.

Red climbed down the ladder, into the docking area that the Score had landed on. A multitude of other ships, mostly not of imp design, were also berthed there. The docking area was dingy and rank with the smells of spilled oil and fuel, and moisture dripped from the corrugated metal in the ceiling. It was, altogether, an unpleasant place. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, Red slid past a few drunk goblins and climbed a ladder to a catwalk that ran around the circumference of the area. Following some crudely daubed orange arrows that were painted on the catwalk, Red found himself before a small office area. The place was mostly silent, except for the frantic shuffling of papers. Red glanced around, and spotted a sign above a desk piled with refuse and paper.

Dockmaster’s Office

Strut Nine

Outbleeder Docking - Ring Bell For Service

Red frowned, peering into the pile of refuse for anything that even remotely resembled a bell. He reached forward hesitantly, intending to shift some papers aside, when a taloned foot stretched out from the pile of junk and clasped around his wrist. Red yelped, jumping back, but the clawed foot hung on tightly. Red jerked his arm back hard, and the entire mountain of garbage toppled forward, nearly burying him, and releasing a screeching mess of black and white feathers. Red found his wrist free, and darted back to the doorway of the office, watching with concern. A massive, gangly bird extracted itself from the refuse with quietly muttered curses in a heavily accented tongue. The bird turned to peer at Red, and Red swallowed hard. The avian was almost completely white, shaped like a massive hawk. The ends of all its feathers were black, and a messy topknot of plumage protruded from the back of its head like some sort of insane mohawk. The bird coughed once, clearing its craw, and spoke more loudly, its voice chipper. “Thanks, mate. My boss is a bit disorganized. He’s been out for a tick, so I was trying to clean up when a pile of junk toppled on me.”

Red blinked at the odd bird, before remembering he was expected to reply. “Oh! Um, yes, no problem.”

The bird’s head bobbed forward, peering at Red. “So, I suspect you need to put in for a berth. You got the strips to pay?”

“Yes. I’ll only be here for a few hours, though.”

The bird’s head cocked to the side and his eyes narrowed as he considered. Showing considerable balance, the bird stood on one foot, the other talon darting into the pile of refuse and pulling out a form. He glanced around for a moment, grumbling something unintelligible under his breath, and then reached up to his wing. He tugged sharply and pulled out a single feather, and offered the form to Red. Red took it, reading through the form, while the bird rummaged around and found an inkwell. The bird dipped the fresh quill into the ink and gave it to Red. Red took the quill, smirking as he finished reading the document. “So, if I’m reading this right, I simply leave a ‘security deposit’ here with you, and since I’m not staying for a full day, you’ll return it to me when I come back?”

“That’s the short of it.”

“That seems... entirely too reasonable. What’s the catch?” asked Red.

The bird chuckled. “Ah, not as fresh as you look. Read the fine print.”

Red peered at the form for a moment before spotting a tiny scrawl across the bottom of the paper. He frowned. “This is impossible to read.”

The bird snickered. “That’s the point, mate. I’ll clue you in, though, seeing how you helped me.” Clearing his throat, he recited, “If, at any point, you are found guilty of any misdeed by the clan militia of Strut Nine, or any struts above or below, you will lose your security deposit.”

“That doesn’t seem too bad,” replied Red.

The bird nodded. “Not so bad for most, sure, but you’re an outbleeder. The imps will have you under scrutiny, and they’ll take any opportunity to make a profit on you with fines for perceived misdeeds. Especially now, with the trouble they’ve been having with the ogres.”

“I’m no friend of the ogres,” muttered Red darkly.

The bird shrugged in reply, and took the form from Red, tucking it away into a box. Red pulled open his pouch and retrieved his purse of silver strips. “How much is the security deposit?”

“Twenty silver strips.”

Red scowled. “Twenty? I’ll give you fifteen.”

The bird nodded. “Fair enough, mate. G’day.”

Red paused as he dug the silver strips out of his satchel, and glanced at the bird. “... That was too easy. How much do regular customers pay?”

“Oh, sharp as a tack, you are! The regulars pay ten, but seeing as you’re an outbleeder, we usually look for a bit more silver.”

Red scowled, but handed over the strips. He turned to leave, before pausing and asking, “So, what are you, exactly? Some kind of secretary?”

The bird nodded. “Secretary bird, yeah. I’m surprised you know! Most of your kind have never even heard of the Zebraharan serengeti.”

“I’ve read a few things, actually. Didn’t everything from that area speak in rhyme?” asked Red, with interest.

The bird snorted, and cleared his throat. “Ask again about my rhymes, and your murder will be an unsolved crime.”

Red smirked and left, heading out of the docking area and into the city proper.

Eye wide, Red walked through the tightly packed streets of the city, trying to take everything in. The city was a mass of imps and other creatures hustling about their business. Shopkeepers leaned out their doorways, hawking their wares. Crowds of goblins moved together, bringing loads of cargo towards lifts to the higher struts, while others hassled passers-by, pointing them towards shops and other locations on the Strut, trying to drum up business for their clan. The buildings loomed over Red, and above him the higher struts blocked out his view of the sky, creating a feeling not unlike the caverns of his home. Red was almost comfortable, until he felt a tug on his satchel.

Red reached out and snagged a small goblin by the ear as his hand slid into Red’s satchel. Red snarled at the emaciated imp, “I don’t believe that anything in this satchel belongs to you.”

The goblin winced, and replied in a whinging tone, “S-sorry! Sorry! My mistake.”

“Your mistake indeed,” Red growled.

A voice from behind Red called out, “Problem, outbleeder?”

Red turned, keeping a tight hold on the goblin’s ear. Before him stood a group of goblins, all heavily armed. They wore red sashes with three white dots on their waists. Red replied, after a moment, “Yeah. This goblin was trying to snag something from my satchel. Got it handled, though.”

The foremost goblin scowled. “Pickpocket, hm?”

The small goblin shook his head, wincing as his caught ear was tugged painfully. “N-nosir!”

The head of the group gave Red a nod. “We’re the militia on this level, outbleeder. Barrow of Cog Blood. We’ll take it from here.”

Red gave Barrow a nod, and stepped aside. Barrow scowled at the trembling imp. “Third time we’ve had a complaint about you, little troll. Anything to say for yourself?”

“Please! I... I won’t do it again!”

Barrow rolled his eyes and pulled out a steam pistol, aiming it at the imp’s forehead. “Well, let’s find out what blood runs through those veins, shall we?”

The pickpocket lifted a trembling hand up, offering it to Barrow. Barrow drew a small knife and ran it over the goblin’s palm, drawing blood. The militia goblin then reached into a pocket and retrieved a silver shard of metal, and pressed it to the shallow cut. He scrutinized the bloody metal. Red leaned forward, interested, and watched with awe as the blood suddenly reacted with the odd piece of metal, shifting its color suddenly to a inky black with green splotches.

Barrow nodded. “Look at that. A Score-bleeder. I thought you were all slaves by now, Score-bleeder.”

The unlucky pickpocket winced, and Barrow gestured to one of his compatriots. The other militia goblin drew a rope from his side and bound the pickpocket’s wrists together, and then the group of militia began to take him away. Red called to Barrow, “What’s going to happen to him?”

Barrow scowled at the Diamond Dog. “Why should you care, outbleeder?”

“You mentioned slaves.”

“Yeah, I did. He’s a Score-bleeder. His clan is in debt to Cog Blood. We own their worthless hides.”

Red scowled. “Since when have the goblins needed slaves?”

Barrow ignored Red, moving to catch up with his companions. Red watched him leave, hackles standing on end, but calmed himself down after a few moments. “There’s nothing that you can do. This isn’t your place,” he murmured to himself. Though he’d initially been curious about Petra, now all he felt was the need to finish his business and leave.

Moving on, Red wandered farther down the street, keeping more aware of the surrounding crowds. He didn’t want another incident on his paws, not if the trouble he could bring might result in another being becoming enslaved, and he wanted his ‘security deposit’ back. As he walked, he paid closer attention to goblins around him, noticing that many of the groups carrying cargo to the upper levels were shackled, and being escorted by other armed goblins. Red shook his head, disgusted by the state of the great city. For all of its industry and technology, the widespread use of slaves was startling.

Pushing his personal feelings aside, Red continued deeper into Strut Nine until he arrived outside of a jeweller's shop. Red smiled and ducked inside, staring around at the wares on display, in more familiar territory among the bounty of Gaia’s earth. A goblin popped from behind a display case, smiling. “Ah, greetings. Are you here to sell?”

“Here to buy, actually.”

The goblin squinted at Red, head tilting curiously. “Ah. I see. That is surprising. Most dogs come to sell gems!”

“I assure you, I’m a customer. Do you have any fire opals?” asked Red.

The merchant gave Red and eager grin. “Of course.”

Red considered for a moment. “I’ll take two fire opals, then. And, before you ask, I’ll give you fifty strips for both of them.”

The merchant clapped his hands. “Excellent! I’ll get your opals.”

The goblin retreated to the back and returned with two small boxes a moment later. Red dropped the fifty strips of silver on the counter and took the boxes, tucking them into his pack. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

“Likewise.”

Before he left the shop, Red asked the merchant, “Excuse me. I have a question.”

“Yes?”

“Earlier, I saw a goblin of the militia use some sort of silver metal to test another imp’s blood, and it changed colors when it touched his blood. What was that?”

The merchant’s eyes narrowed. “Nothing for an outbleeder to concern yourself with.”

Red frowned, gave the merchant a curt nod, and left, returning back to the street and following his route back along the avenues and alleyways. He paused only once, briefly, to buy a bottle of potent alcohol from a bar, before returning to the docking area of Strut Nine.

Red walked into the Dockmaster’s office, and called, “Are you trapped under trash again? If so, I’ll just be taking my security deposit and leaving.”

The secretary bird poked his head up from behind a slightly smaller mound of refuse, making a disgusted face. “G’day. I almost wish I was buried again. Then I wouldn’t have to do any of this work, eh?”

Red smirked. “Right. Well, I’ll take my strips and be gone, then.”

The secretary bird nodded. “One second.”

The bird strode out from behind the mess, moving to a lock-box. After a moment of careful manipulation with less-than-dexterous talons, he managed to open the box and retrieve Red’s fifteen silver strips. Red tucked them away into his satchel and gave the bird a nod. “Thanks.”

“You enjoy our fair city?”

“Well, I got what I came for, anyway.”

The secretary bird snorted. “Lucky you.”

Red rolled his eye. “I suppose. How long have the goblins been slavers? I didn’t realize that they took members of their own race as forced labor.”

“They didn’t used to. Not often, anyway. The problems with the ogres, though, have gotten them desperate. Lots more clans been slipping into debt with the bigger clans.”

Nodding, Red exhaled slowly. “I guess desperate times call for desperate measures. I don’t like it, though.”

The secretary bird cocked his head. “Not much you can do about it, though.”

Red shrugged. “Still doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

With that, Red took his leave of the Dockmaster’s office, returning to The Crimson Score.

Red slid into the co-pilot seat and gave the sleeping Ace a nudge. Ace snorted and sat up, glancing at Red with a scowl. He jabbed a finger at the map, pointing to the ‘x’. Red sighed. “I know you want to go, and we will. Let’s just get out of here, first. Then, we gotta make a quick stop somewhere quiet.”

Ace sighed, and fired up the engines. Red powered on the radio and transmitted, “This is The Crimson Score calling Petra Air Defense. Do we have permission to leave Petra, over?”

After a moment, the radio squealed a response. “Crimson Score, Petra Air Defense. Interceptor Squadron Four will escort you from Strut Nine to the edge of our airspace, over.”

Red nodded to Ace, and Ace lifted off from the berth, turning the ship south once they cleared Strut Nine. Two imp hovercraft flanked the Score, following her for two kilometers before breaking off and returning to the city. Ace exhaled as they left, visibly untensing. Red chuckled. “Yeah, that’s not exactly pleasant. Maybe when we get to that little ‘x’, I can take some time to build that interceptor vehicle, so we can have a way to defend ourselves. Maybe even mount a gun on top of the hull?”

Ace nodded once, smiling slightly. Red leaned forward in his seat, peering into the wastes, and gestured to a small crater on the surface. “There. Set us down.”

With a grunt, Ace did as he was told, flying lower and bringing in The Crimson Score to land.

“Come with me, Ace. Quint would want you there for this.”

Ace shook his head emphatically, frowning at Red. Red sighed. “I know you’re still upset, but I don’t see why you’d want to miss this. Quint’s spirit should be returned to Gaia.”

Ace ignored Red completely, his ears flattening back on his skull angrily, and he brought the Score down at the edge of the small crater. Red stood up and walked towards the crew cabin, calling back over his shoulder. “I hope you change your mind.”

---

Red sat in the dust of the crater, digging away at the ground with his powerful claws, opening a small hole in the earth. He sat back, panting, and carefully piled the dirt into a mound. Slowly, he lay the two fire opals and the bottle of alcohol into the hole, and then stood up, staring down into the tiny grave.

“Quint. I didn’t know you very well, but... Well, you helped me build my ship. You brought news that made me remember something important to me.” Red hesitated, trying to find the words to express his gratitude. “You gave me a purpose, gave me a reason to become more than a simple mechanic. You would have gladly joined me on my hunt for the last pony, because you were a tough soul. You were a survivor. I’m just sorry I couldn’t save you. I needed your savvy, Quint. But... I’ll figure it out. I’ll take care of Ace, and I’ll...I’ll kill the last pony.”

Red scowled at himself. Those last words sounded hollow, even to him. “I will kill the last pony,” he repeated, with more conviction. With a nod, Red spat onto the dirt mound beside the hole.

“Merciful Mother Gaia, I return this dog to your bosom. Take his body and enrich your being with his form, which was dutifully given serving his pack.”

With that, Red kicked the dirt into the hole, covering the gemstones and bottle. He carefully smoothed over the dirt, brushing fresh ash over the mark in the earth, leaving no trace of the buried items. Red took a step back and tilted his head to the black, starry sky. He howled, a ululating call that echoed over the wastelands.

He howled his sorrow to a moon that was no longer there.

---

Red returned to the Crimson Score, his steps heavy and expression pensive. Ace sat on a bunk, arms crossed, waiting for Red. When Red arrived at the cockpit, he frowned at Ace. “You should have been there.”

Ace scowled at Red and stood up, jabbing a finger into Red’s chest emphatically, obviously trying to make a point. Red’s ears flattened and he growled, and Ace’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know why you’re making a fuss. This was important, Ace!”

Silently snarling, Ace turned away from Red, his paws clenching and unclenching. Red hissed, “You’ve got something to say to me? Let’s just get this out of the way, right now, then. I’m tired of you getting mad when I mention Quint.”

Ace turned around and shook his head at Red, and jabbed a finger again into Red’s shoulder, and then pointed at himself, shaking his head. He repeated the motion, pointing to Red, pointing to himself, and shaking his head. Red frowned, not feeling up for a mime show at that moment, and turned away, walking towards the bridge. He couldn’t resist making one last comment to Ace, though. “You know, for somebody who was so close to Quint, you should have been there for him at the end instead of running away.”

Red heard stomping footsteps behind him and whirled, just in time to meet Ace’s heavy haymaker punch squarely with his jaw. Red’s head snapped back and his vision blossomed with bright lights. Red moved his hands up to defend from another blow, but too late. Ace threw a second punch, a left hook that popped Red’s right brow. Red gasped as pain suddenly exploded across his forhead, the horn in his skull jarred by the blow, and he dropped to his knees as darkness began to overwhelm his vision. The last thing he saw before blacking out was Ace’s stunned expression.

---

With a quiet yelp, I jerked awake from my nap. I exhaled as my brain unclouded, and sat up, touching my jaw lightly with a hoof. I realized what I was doing and smirked, shaking my head. That dream had been extremely vivid, more so than some of the others. I’d practically felt the punches that had been thrown by that big Diamond Dog. Regardless, though, it was still a dream; nothing had actually punched me. I lay down once more, rolled onto my back, and stared up at the night sky.

Returning to work after my all-too-brief sabbatical had been trying. It was hard to simply jump back into the swing of things after what had happened. I’d had to rely on others to retrieve my samples for the past several days, as after the “incident” it had been suggested that I stay away from changeling drones for a while. The one that had “tasted” me was still there, apparently, and I had no desire to go near the creature, or any of its kin for that matter.

I had been working on my device again, testing the construct’s effectiveness and re-checking the spells woven into the materials and focusing crystals. Everything was ready for a full test with a live subject... except me.

I couldn’t shake the fear that the changeling drone had instilled in me, a uncertainty in not only my work but the ethic of what we were doing in this place, so far from home.

Sitting up, I looked away from the night sky’s beauty towards the desolate features of the place I found myself in. I sat on a rock outcropping that was tucked into the side of a mesa. The front entrance to the lab was cleverly hidden with both magic and physical camouflage. Around me, the world was desolate, a dry and arid landscape of black sand and red sandstone, with only scruffy tufts of brittle grass growing in patches. The mesa I sat on was one of many, like black and red monoliths that rose out of the desert like daggers, plunged into the carapace of a great, black beast.

The black sand was unnatural, a by-product of the swarms of changelings that lived in this area. Their hives, great jagged constructions of alien design, dotted the land, spiking into the heavens. Green lights emanated from within the hives, a natural bioluminescence that the changelings created. They fed off emotion, the most potent being love. The central figure of every hive, the queen, fed off her drones’ adoration for her, and the larger hives had stronger queens.

I exhaled slowly, releasing the tension of the day, allowing myself to relax briefly, feeling energized by the outside world. It was strange, but though I’d only been to the surface once or twice in this place, the deserted and empty landscape felt familiar to me, almost like home.

Frowning, I ignored the odd feeling of belonging that I felt in this place. This was not my home, of course, but the nagging sensation of familiarity would not leave me. I felt that I knew this place, and it knew me. I had been retreating outside over the last few days to gather my thoughts, and it had stuck me as odd that I was more comfortable in the “hostile” territory than the safe base hidden within the mesa.

It must have something to do with the dreams.

Yawning, stretching out and rolling to my hooves, I slid back through the shields and invisible wards to the front entrance and the base hidden within. I moved through several guarded checkpoints and submitted myself to magical searches and security questions, before finally passing through a magically secured metal hatch designed to withstand any sort of destructive force. Passing through the portal, it closed behind me with a whir of metal, locking once more. I shivered slightly, feeling briefly claustrophobic, but the fear passed. I walked calmly to my lab and sat down on a pillow in front of my workbench, bringing my muzzle level with my creation. The device sat before me, glowing softly, and I sighed.

It was time to face my fear and bring the device in for a full test. The test chamber was ready, and the sample had been prepared. A few of the senior unicorn mages were finalizing the wards and spells, and then everything would be ready. Several senior members of the Equestrian Military were there to see the test, as well. They’d heard what I’d accomplished already, and felt that I was on to something. I stared at the device, admiring the aesthetic beauty of the design that I had created, and quietly dreading the coming test. I knew that it would work. It’d proven itself in the previous tests, but this was the first full-scale test on a changeling drone.

I stood up after a quiet moment of contemplation and put on my armor—had to look good for the senior staff after all—and then carefully levitated the device into the air. I left my lab and cantered quickly into the depths of the facility, to the secure chamber that had been prepared for the test.

I arrived outside the chamber at the guard post just in time, as the two generals that were there to observe the test and their aides reached the check point. I saluted the generals sharply. “General Light Brigade, General Brass Top. Glad you could make it. I’m honored to have you both here, sirs.”

The two generals returned the salute, and smiled at me. General Brass Top spoke gruffly, “Lieutenant Armor, from what we understand, this is certain to be an historic day.”

I smiled. “Thank you, sir. If you’ll excuse me, generals, I need to get to the test chamber. The observation area is just around the corner.”

Turning sharply, I moved through a door into the test chamber’s ready room. Several senior mages and a contingent of fully armed and armored guards turned to look at me. I blinked, startled by the larger-than-average security detail. “Gentlecolts.”

The guards all nodded to me, and two of the senior mages approached me, smiling nervously. “Don’t worry, Lieutenant Armor, just an extra precaution! The test chamber is ready for your device to be deployed. Just a few last minute things to see to.”

“Good thing you thought to wear your armor, Lieutenant. We’ve adjusted the test slightly, but everything should be well within the capabilities of your device. We’ll just put a few wards on you, and then you’ll be ready to go into the chamber.”

I frowned as the mages wove a plethora of wards and protective spells into my armor and around my person, feeling layers of magic settle over me like a tingling shroud. After a few minutes, they were done, and nodded to me. I smiled, trying not to seem nervous, and moved to the metal hatch that separated the ready room from the test chamber. I gave the guards a nod. “All right, let’s get this done.”

The guards gave me a salute and then flanked me, raising their spears towards the hatch. I frowned at them and opened the hatch with telekinesis, wondering why they were so nervous. The test chamber was a simple affair, a dense metal room that was egg-shaped and completely devoid of any furnishings. The walls were smooth, and covered in protective wards against everything from physical assault to magical overload. As the hatch opened wider, though, the cause for their heightened security became immediately apparent.

There wasn’t one drone in the chamber, there were a dozen of them, held in place by magic that kept them from moving, and they weren’t alone. In the center of the room, held suspended in a bubble of magical energy, was a changeling queen.

The queen was a horrific mix of equine form and insectoid parts, with a flowing teal mane that shimmered unnaturally, and an onyx carapace that glimmered and enclosed the lime-green exoskeleton of the creature. Her head was similarly equine, with the long muzzle and feminine features, but blue slitted eyes and fangs betrayed her true nature. She bore a twisted horn that pulsed with sickly green energy, and she struggled weakly against the magical bonds that held her.

I took a step back and glanced over my shoulder at the senior mages, my face a mask of horror. This wasn’t just a simple test against a drone! This was far more than I had planned for!

“This won’t work!”

The mage frowned. “You will deploy the device, Lieutenant Armor!”

With that, the guards shoved me roughly into the test chamber and closed the hatch, leaving me alone with the changelings and their queen. I shivered, staring up at the thrashing changeling queen. She halted her movements and turned her head to stare down at me from her prison, her slitted eyes narrowing with anger.

“Release me.”

I ignored the queen, moving slowly into the center of the room, directly below the queen’s magical cage. I set down the device and took a step back, trying my best to calm myself. A voice echoed from a sonic rune in the top of the chamber. “Very good, Lieutenant. Our mages are keeping the queen caged, so you will be quite safe as long as you do not deviate from the planned procedure.”

I nodded. “All right then.”

I could hear the senior mage begin to explain, obviously more for the generals’ benefit than my own. “Gentlecolts, Generals, this is the first full-scale test of Lieutenant Armor’s creation, a ‘Spell Locus,’ as he calls it. The concept is fairly complex, but to put it into lay terminology, the device enhances the power of a spell that is channeled through it, using the organic material placed in the four sample orbs as the focus of the spell’s targeting. With this device, Lieutenant Armor believes that he can create spells that can specifically target only certain species of creatures.”

In the meantime, I carefully focused myself, channeling my energy into the Spell Locus, using it as the center of the most powerful spell of shielding that I could muster. The sample orbs glowed with potent arcane energy, facilitating the targeting of my spell down from a general spell of shielding to one specifically targeting changelings. I exhaled slowly, closed my eyes, cast the spell, feeling my entire body weaken as I channeled all my power into the central focusing crystal.

The changeling queen’s voice echoed around the chamber. “I’ll warn you only once more! Your meager pony spells cannot hold me forever!” She did not sound very convincing, and I detected a quavering tone of fear in her voice.

I settled back onto my haunches as the spell completed, panting with exertion. The central crystal processed my spell rapidly, my pink magical aura flowing inside the crystal, out into the helical body of the device, and out into the four sample orbs. The orbs pulsed, and a circular shield slowly expanded into the room, growing as the powerful Spell Locus processed the arcane energy I had imbued it with. I winced as the shield touched me, but was glad to see that the shield ignored me, leaving only a gentle tingling sensation as I passed through the shield’s expanding magical field.

The shield expanded and touched the first changeling drone. The changeling resisted the shield’s expansion for only a few moments, body straining and eyes wincing closed, but then was roughly pushed away. The changeling jolted sharply and screamed with insectoid pain, and with horror I realized that the wards that had been keeping the drone in place were still active. The changeling’s front legs buckled and snapped as the wards exerted increasing force against its carapace, mauling its body. The changeling passed out as one of its leg joints popped with a sickening wet noise.

“Release their wards! I’ll be fine!” I shouted.

“Why? What’s happening?”

“The shield! It’s exerting kinetic force against the changelings, pushing them, but your wards are trying to keep them in place! It’s hurting them!”

There was a brief discussion, and then the magical wards fell. The changeling slumped and was pushed away by the shield, its front legs shattered by the exerted force of the holding wards. Green ichor leaked from its injuries, smearing across the ground, and I coughed sickly as the smell of the changeling blood reached my nostrils. The rest of the changelings, similarly freed, buzzed about the room frantically, scurrying away from the shield in a panic or bashing themselves against it in a vain attempt to break through. I felt only a meager satisfaction at my success, tempered by the pain I’d inadvertently caused one of the test subjects, and as the shield expanded into the room the changelings pressed themselves against the circular walls, chattering at each other and hissing frantically. I noticed that even the unctuous fluid the injured changeling had been leaking was being pushed along the floor by the shield’s expansion. Two changelings quickly flitted down to the floor, retrieving their unconscious brother and carrying him up to the side of the room and away from the advancing magic spell.

I frowned, glancing up. The changeling queen watched the advancing arcane wall, her eyes wide and terrified. As my shield encountered the wards surrounding her, the two magical fields interacted spectacularly, sparks of energy spattering across the shields. The mages dropped their barriers, releasing the changeling queen, and she landed atop the shield, only to be violently repelled away into the air. She righted herself with a buzz of her wings, glaring balefully at me. “Do not pretend that you are safe, pony. This shield will break!”

With a hiss, she called her drones to her, and the drones complied, buzzing around their queen. The queen gestured to the drones and pointed to the shield that had filled almost three-quarters of the room before finally halting in its expansion. The drones focused their efforts, bashing against the spell at a single point, and the changeling queen sent flashes of green energy from her horn into the powerful barrier, attempting to weaken it.

I watched their efforts, noticing how they rebounded off the shield every time they made contact. However, their work was beginning to show some results. Their battering and blasting was creating a weakness in the shield spell, a visible series of cracks in the glassy, domed surface. I remembered the Queen’s warning and clenched my teeth. “It needs more power or it’s going to break!”

I closed my eyes, drawing from my inner strength, and sent more magical energy into the device. The cracks sealed themselves after a moment, and I sighed with relief. The changeling queen snarled and hammered an insectoid hoof into the shield, ineffectually venting her frustration. The shield suddenly expanded, pushing the queen away, and inexorably began to fill the room.

The changeling queen hissed with startled fear, flying towards the top of the shield. Most of the drones stayed put, still attempting to weaken the shield as the distance between the shield and the walls shrunk to nil, though two followed their queen up to the top of the room. The ones that did not move became trapped between the wall and the shield, hissing and jabbering at each other as they squirmed. The shield continued to expand, and I gasped, realizing what I had inadvertently caused.

The changeling drones rapidly ran out of space as the shield pressed them into the walls violently; their legs tried to brace against the shield, only to be rebuked by the shield’s effect. They became wedged, pressed against the wall, and thrash convulsively, their screaming turning to gurgling coughs and cries of pain as their carapaces crushed between the shield and the wall. I closed my eyes, horrified, but could not block out the sounds of their foalish mewls as they died whimpering. Their cries ceased, one by one, as wet, meaty popping noises assaulted my ears, followed by a terrible crunching and crackling sound. Finally, I opened my eyes, and sharply spun away as I was confronted with the mortal remains of the dozen or so changelings that had been so horribly killed. They had been reduced to nothing more than black, flattened sheets of crushed carapace intermingled with green, chunky fluids. I spat as my stomach heaved, and barely managed to hold my gorge, trying to find something to focus my attention elsewhere.

The changeling queen screamed, and I looked up. The shield had expanded to fill the egg-shaped chamber, and then passed through the walls as it continued to expand. The only places the shield was still visible was where it was stuck between the crushed and flattened remains of the drones and the wall, and at the top of the room, near the ceiling. The queen and her last subjects were trapped at the top of the room. The two remaining drones desperately battering themselves against the shield. She snarled at them to stop, but they disobeyed, crashing again and again into the shield, damaging themselves as their carapaces began to give and crack under the repeated violent assaults against the shield. She stared down at me, her desperate eyes darting between her last wounded subjects and me. “Do something!”

I nodded, gathering my wits. “I’ll try!”

The mages in the other room called out, “Lieutenant! If you disable the shield, you’ll be defenseless!”

“I don’t care! I didn’t mean to kill them!”

“Lieutenant, perhaps it would be best if you let the shield complete its expansion.”

“No!” I searched frantically for a better explanation, something that would appeal to the mages. “I can only assume acquiring a changeling queen was incredibly difficult! She is more valuable alive than dead!”

There was silence from the mages for a moment, then one of the generals responded, “Very well. Do what you can, Lieutenant.”

I exhaled, and quickly drew power out of the device, using my horn to store the energy contained within the Spell Locus. The changeling queen hovered at the topmost point of the oblong room, the shield a mere foot away from her. “Please, please; don’t let me die!” she beseeched me, fearful tears filling her eyes. Her two drones were spent, hanging weakly on the ceiling and panting with exhaustion and pain.

I grit my teeth as the energy built up in my horn, a headache turning into a migraine turning into blinding pain. I hadn’t realized how efficient the focus crystal was, and now I was paying the price, as I was forced to reabsorb more than double the energy I had expended on the spell. I groaned with anguish as my horn turned into a hot poker driven between my eyes. The shield slowed as I reached my limit and collapsed to my side, moaning as my horn glowed and spat sparks of magical power, well beyond the safe limits of energy storage.

The changeling queen saw me collapse and wailed, “No! No! Please!”

I turned my head up, looking at her as she was pushed against the ceiling by the shield. “I’m s-sorry! I’m sorry! I tried!”

The queen screamed, turning her face away desperately and squeezing her eyes shut as the shield pressed closer. The two drones bravely interspersed themselves between the barrier and their matriarch stretching out and pushing desperately against the shield. Their legs gave way first, snapping and dislocating at the joints. They fell limply and crawled to their queen, pressing themselves against her and in front of her. The shield pressed in, and with sickening snaps they began to compress, cushioning their queen with their bodies. They did not make a sound, simply clinging to the changeling queen as they expired. The queen screamed, turning her head away as the shield pressed closer, pushing her dead subjects aside. The shield pressed into her chest, her carapace fracturing with sickening snaps, like the cracking of eggs.

Then, finally, the Spell Locus dimmed, it’s energy expended. The shield shrunk away from the ceiling.

The changeling queen shivered, sobbing, as the shield collapsed back into the Spell Locus, her weakened carapace leaking emerald vital fluid. She fell from the top of the room, finally, sliding down the wall, leaving streaks of fluid in her wake, to land in a crumpled heap. I stood up shakily, but went to my knees as pain shot through my skull. I could see the desert, suddenly, but it was different—black char melding with white ash, the sky dark. I shook my head, clearing the image from my mind, only to find myself face-to-alien-face with the changeling queen. She stared into my eyes, her expression unreadable, and murmured, softly, “Thank you.”

I jerked back, gasping with fear, as her head darted towards me. Her lips touched mine, and I found myself caught in an embrace with the changeling queen. I exhaled with surprise, squirming in her grasp, and winced my eyes closed. I felt, suddenly, her cold carapace become warm, and soft. Her embrace deepened, and when I opened my eyes, instead of looking into the green and reptilian pupils of a queen, I found my gaze locked with the beautiful violet eyes of a princess.

I screamed.

---

End of Chapter 6

---

Special Thanks To: Warden, Skirts, Brian, Raz, and Ponky

Comments

[PropMaster]

Note: Instead of Chapter 6, Part 1 and Chapter 6, Part 2, I decided to go the easy route and just make these next two updates "Chapter 6" and "Chapter 7".

Oh! Oh! Also, FIRST.

[Emberspeak]

Wow! That was fantastic! Explaining (well, more like hinting at) the link between Shining and Red as a product of The Last Pony travelling in time is quite clever, and I'm interested to see if the 'powerful and advanced magic' used by Shining in the past will come to affect Red in the present.

Everything else worked well too, however I would've liked a little more detail on Petra as seen from street-level, although Red is going to be going back there at some point, so maybe we'll see it then. Also, what kind of accent does the secretary bird have? There were some Australian idioms in there 'G'day' etc. but it could also be cockney accent or something similar.

Heh, in my final little splurge of comment-y goodness, that final scene was AMAZING. It was actually chilling to see the horror of what was happenning from Shining's perspective.

[KMCA]

That powerful magic? Not gluestick, I blame the asthmatic dragon

[Ralatr0n]

Poor changelings... Crushed by shield magic is quite low on my "How I want to die" list. Right below "Stranded on a haunted moonbase without supplies".

I also wonder where in the timeline this happens. I assume somewhere before the events of the S2 finale considering Shining is referenced to as lieutenant as opposed to commander. Yet this does cause one to wonder how Shining could be lured into queen Chrysalis grasp, considering his extensive knowledge of changelings.

[dubbed_hoof]

I liked the style of this chapter based on what has happened so far. After the action of chapter 5 and the death of Quint, this was a nice way to handle it, and you kept it interesting with some revelations. As interesting as it was to finally find out what Petra is (I stayed away from the canned versions of EOP, and just had to stare at the name continually popping up), I enjoyed Shining's section more, especially the change of perspective.

Yet this does cause one to wonder how Shining could be lured into queen Chrysalis grasp, considering his extensive knowledge of changelings.

I don't know exactly what Props plans are, but it seems like he could tie this in quite nicely with canon information. I was always a bit annoyed by the fact that the Wedding Episodes started with them making some mysterious claims that something was afoot (a "threat", the shield being placed over Canterlot), and then was never really addressed. What prompted it in the first place exactly? Go Props go! Fill in that missing canon!

I don't if it has been revealed yet or not, but do we know if Shining's time frame is occurring before or after the Wedding? Did he refer to Cadence as his wife?

I was a bit surprised with how low you kept the tone of the first half of this chapter. I was expecting Red to have a funeral that involved something fancy with the gems (I dunno, making them start on fire or something?), then getting completely wasted on the booze. That seems very "diamond dog" to me. Also nothing really happen in Petra. I hope Ember is correct that this merely served as an introduction to it which will be revisited later, otherwise you sure wasted a lot of exposition for a fifteen minute walk around.

Onward and upward!

[Pacific Penguin]

during the experiment scene, I kept imagining parallels to the black mesa experiment going wrong... heh.

[Luminous Lead]

1413318 It looks like Shining's heart is stronger than his head. The changeling queen (Chrysalis I assume) was likely in very real danger, and it's not really surprising that she'd bond with him for self-preservation. He is her knight in shining armour after all :D

[Esme]

This makes me wonder; what happened to the changelings after the apocalypse? Did they all die too, just like the ponies?

[Ponky]

Oh my gosh that was soooooooo awesooooooome

This story just got ten times cooler. I've never seen anything like this--the Shining Armor side story, I mean, exploring and expanding his relationship (and ponies' relationship) with changelings. It's fascinating, exciting, and interesting. Best of all it's believable and fits with canon in a dark and gritty way. How Skirtsy of you.

Which brings me to my next point: I love how you are building on Skirts' universe in your own way, explaining leylines and things. I really like that.

Yeah, this story is getting so freaking good. I love Red, I really like Ace, you describe the world and its awful details so beautifully, and the changeling thing is just plain fantastic. I'm so excited to be almost caught up. You've constructed this very well. I'm hooked.

[theworstwriter]

I'm looking at your descriptions of Petra next to Skirts', and I think you've done a fine job of getting that right.

I LOVE some of the parallels between Red and the last pony that he's eventually going to have to face.

I don't have a whole lot to say here other than yes. An excellent chapter.