The Starlight Broadcast

by ponyfhtagn

Pt.1 - Chapter 1

“A ROCK!?” Rarity cried. “That’s my destiny!?”

Her little filly shrieks rang unanswered across the empty wasteland.

“What is your problem, horn!?” the young foal went on, trying to glare up at her own forehead. “I followed you all the way out here for a—”

Suddenly the whole world was too loud, too bright and too fast.

A blinding flash filled the clear blue sky, whiting out all colour. A rushing force blew past. Something smacked into the towering rock Rarity had just been cursing at, and she only briefly heard stone shattering before the roar of the soundwave caught up a second later.

The moment was a blur of terror.

…when at last the dust began to clear Rarity found herself panting hard. Every muscle was tensed—every joint locked. She stood unharmed in a hemisphere of pale blue shimmering magic.

“…what?” Rarity whispered.

She blinked and spoke again.

There was only the ringing in hear ears.

She shook her head and shouted in a panic until at last her hearing returned. Then she let out a little sob, and her shield collapsed with a gentle pop.

After a few moments of quiet crying she lifted her head and noticed the curious way the sunlight shone in bright shafts through the dusty air. Curiouser still, the way some of the dirty lumps on the ground seemed to glint and shimmer with gorgeous colours and sparkles.

Rarity got nervously to her little hooves and kicked at a rock.

It was not a rock. It was a bright red gem.

She kicked another. It was an emerald. Another and another and soon she was discovering precious jewels all around.

“What in Equestria…” Rarity gasped in astonishment.

A particularly bright glint caught her eye and she turned to see what was possibly the largest gem of all. It was glass-like, and coloured a soft pink she thought, though it was quite dusty. Rarity trotted up to investigate. Her childlike nature was mercifully overwriting the trauma of mere minutes ago.

“My, what a most splendid jewel,” Rarity cooed.

She brushed at the dirt with her tail and peered closer.

There was… It was almost as if… Yes, there was something inside.

“It’s…” Rarity began. She tilted her head in confusion. “What exactly is it?”

The pink crystal shook.

Rarity yelped and leap right back. Before her eyes the glassy thing trembled and then seemed to dribble—too ooze and dissolve into pink foam.

There was a huge gasp as the little creature inside was set free.

“Ughh… My head,” he mumbled, staggering about on his two hind legs. Then his green earflaps perked up suddenly. “Twilight!?” He called, looking left and right. “Anyone? Where’s Starlight? Where’s the scroll? Where…” He stopped, gazing out over the rocky and dusty wasteland. “When… am I? Is this…”

“When are you?” Rarity said suddenly.

Spike jumped and gave a yelp of surprise.

“More like who are you!” Rarity said. “Or should I say what?”

The little purple creature blinked his inner-eyelids at her.

“Ew-heww-hewww,” Rarity said, flinching back from him.

“…Rarity?” Spike said, waving the dust aside.

“And how would you know that?” Rarity demanded.

“Rarity, it’s me, Spike. You—Wow, you look… um… small?” He shrugged apologetically.

“Well you look like some kind of… horrible… dragon!”

Spike rolled his eyes. “That’s because I am a dragon.”

“A dragon!?” Rarity exclaimed, backpedalling fast.

“No! It’s okay. I’m only a baby dragon!”

“Is that what that was!? A dragon egg?”

“What, that?” Spike hooked a thumb at the pink-slime crater where his crystal-prison had crash landed. “Nah. That was just a magical entrapment created by a power-crazed unicorn I was fighting with.”

Rarity stared.

“Pretty sturdy stuff, actually,” Spike mused. “I guess Starlight wasn’t trying to kill us with it after all. I’ve never crashed so comfortably in my life. Though… that shockwave…”

Rarity continued to stare.

“And why did it just dissolve like that?” Spike went on. “Was there a time limit or something? Is Starlight out of range?”

Rarity looked around. “…are you asking me or are you just going insane?”

Spike blinked and shook his head. “What am I still doing here? Quick. Rarity, I need to get back up to the Flight Camp. The fate of Equestria depends on it!”

“Flight Camp? But you don’t even have wings,” Rarity said.

Spike blew smoke from his nose.

Rarity eyed him cautiously. “Waaaait… Did you say the fate of Equestria.”

“Yes!” Spike exclaimed. “The spell must have gone wrong, and I was—”

“Oh… My… Goodness! I knew it!” Rarity cheered. “This is my destiny. My horn lead me right to you! Right here! At this very moment. Just as Equestria needs me—this is too incredible. I have—” Rarity paused in her jubilations and quickly began spinning in circle, trying to see her own flank. “What is it? What does it look like? Tell me!?” she squeaked. Her cheerful spins began to slow, until at last she slumped down on her haunches in a droop. “Oh. I didn’t get my cutiemark.”

Spike scratched his head. “Your cutiemark?”

“Oh, yes, sure,” Rarity went on, bitterly. “Of course I wouldn’t expect a dragon to understand. But I honestly though—I mean, my horn lead me out here and everything. But I guess it’s just my unicorn magic acting up again. Just one of those things.” Rarity rubbed at her chin. “Come to think of it, that must be how I created that shield as well. Ooo, I wish I could remember how I did that. It’s so frustrating not being in control of your power when you’re still—”

Rarity stopped and looked down at her hoof.

Then she shrieked. “I’m filthy! Ugh. That’s it. I’m going home. What a waste of a day. And I didn’t even get my cutiemark.”

Spike shook his head, tapping it a few time. “Of course! Of course! This is the day you’re supposed to get your cutiemark.”

“Hmph,” Rarity replied. “Apparently not.”

“No, look.” Spike scrabbled around in the dirt and brought up armfuls of the shiny gems. “These. Take these.”

“But they’re covered in dirt.”

“I’ll carry them. It’s okay.”

“If you like them so much why don’t you keep them,” Rarity said.

Spike looked down at the shiny, colourful, delicious gathering of gemstones.

He licked his dragon lips. Then sighed and shook his head.

“No, no. Trust me. You need these.”

Rarity looked at the gems, then at Spike, then the gems. “Well… I suppose they are rather pretty. Hmm. Yes, and they would look nice if—Oh!” Rarity smiled. “In-spir-ation!” She sing-songed. “I can use these to finish the costume for the school performance. They’re perfect. Why, they’re exactly what I need! Oh, thankyou, thankyou—Uh…” Rarity frowned at the baby dragon. “What was your name again?”

“Oh. I’m Spike. At your service.”

“Spike…” Rarity repeated. “And… You’ll carry all these gems for me?”

“Well of course. It’s your destiny,” Spike said.

Rarity smiled. “Well, we’ll see. Come along then, Spike. Let’s go back to my—”

Rarity suddenly stopped in her tracks and Spike almost bumped into her.

“What is it?” Spike asked.

Rarity was staring up at the sky, now that the dust was clearing. “There’s… There’s nothing…”

“What?” Spike looked up also, and when he did he dropped all his gems.

Once there had been a sculpted cloudscape, gathered around a sealed runway, and decorated with flags and practice hoops. But now, where the Flight Camp had been, there was…

“Nothing,” Spike repeated.

Nothing save a slight jutting of rock that used to be the runway.

“…we need to get home,” Rarity said, suddenly very serious. It was parental tone, almost. A heroic tone. Thing kind of thing one would say if the ‘fate of Equestria’ depended on them, for example.

“There’s nothing we can do here,” she went on. “I’m sure there’ll be news at home.”

Spike clumsily gathered up the gems again. “Right. Yeah. I’m sure Twilight is fine. Sh-she’ll probably come find me later. Or… I’ll send her a letter. We’ll be fine.”

Rarity looked back at him as they walked. “Um… Do you have anywhere to stay? I mean, well, darling you did just fall out of the sky and hatch from a… a thing.”

“Oh,” Spike said, waddling along after her. “I, um… I think I might be stuck here.” His face dropped a little.

“Stuck where?” Rarity said.

“It’s… kind of a long story.” Spike sighed.

“Well you shall tell me all about it over dinner,” Rarity said, head held high.

Spike chuckled. “Thanks. Really. But, don’t you still live with your family?”

“Oh pish-tosh. I’m sure we’ll work something out.”

Spike smiled.

Rarity smiled back.

The cheer didn’t last long. Not with all that destruction hanging overhead.

At the same time, across Equestria in the shining city of Canterlot, a young purple unicorn filly was riding home in sullen and bitter disappointment.

“Cheer up, Twilight,” said her mother, giving the foal a pat on the head.

“Yes, that was hardly fair,” said her father. “They should have cancelled the test after that huge explosion. I mean, it probably would have shattered the windows if they hadn’t been magically reinforced.”

“Dear, don’t scare the poor child,” her mother scolded.

“She’s already scared,” her father said as their carriage clicked along. “How else do you explain her just freezing up like that?”

“Dear,” Twilight’s mother insisted again.

Her father gave Twilight a pat on the head, too. “What I mean, Twilight, is that I will do everything in my power to make sure you get to take that test again. Okay?”

Twilight didn’t look up. She just sat there, nodding her head with the jostling rhythm of the carriage wheels against the Canterlot streets.

“Why do they always insist on starting those tests with a dragon egg?” her father went on. “It’s impossible!”

“It’s meant to be impossible,” her mother corrected. “It’s to motivate students to try harder when they bring out the proper test pieces.”

“I think it’s cruel.”

“You know many applicants come from rich families where they’ve been spoon fed everything they’ve ever wanted. It’s good to knock a little sense into them before they go on with the real—”

“Can we stop talking about it?” Twilight snarled though gritted teeth.

The parents both froze.

The carriage wheels clicked.

“Oh… of course, dear,” her mother said.

“Right. Yes,” her father agreed. “Don’t worry. I’ll get this sorted out in no time. You just take it easy.”

Twilight said nothing. She only sat.

Her father looked around for something to brake the awkwardness. His attention caught something out in the passing street. “It’s getting dark.”

“Well it’s late enough,” Twilight’s mother said.

“No, I mean…” He pointed his hoof. “The street lights aren’t working.”

“You’re right,” her mother said, peering around. “How odd. But they should be powered by—”

And just then all the windows in Canterlot that faced towards the event horizon suddenly shattered, without cause or warning.

The stars came out. And somewhere on a lonely rock farm an anxious sister was calling across the dusty wastes.

“Pinkie?” Maud’s voice rang out again. Only those who knew her well would have noticed the tremble in her words.

In other distant parts of the farm there were cries of “Pinkamina!?” and even the full “Pinkamina Diane Pie!?”

When the shockwave had struck, the rest of the family had only just gone inside for dinner. The house and grounds suffered damage but worst of all little Pinkie Pie was still outside, finishing up in the south field.

“Pinkamina!?” cried their father. His voice was getting raw.

Maud calmly surveyed the grey-brown landscape and thanked her lucky stars that her little sister had been blessed with being so… well, so pink. Maud approached the stray tangle of pink hair she had spied and she found hoofprints leading away. Signs of staggering, more than walking. There were wide sweeps in the dust where the young filly must have fallen. As Maud followed the trail she found another stray pink hair. Then her ears pricked up to the sound of childish giggles.

Maud followed the sound down the path and along the track into the crystal mine. Unfortunately everything was pink in the mine. But if anypony could tell the difference between a filly and a rock it would definitely be Maud.

“Pinkie?” Maud called, more gently this time.

There was a slight echo.

The giggles hesitated. Then redoubled. There was even the occasional snort.

“Pinkie, I’d like you to tell me that you’re okay.”

The giggles continues.

Maud scanned the scene as she walked, tracking the sound to its source at last.

There Pinkie was. Scrapped and bruised and with her mane and tail in the fluffiest tangle never thought possible. But smiling.

“Pinkie, there you are,” Maud said, walking up to her.

Pinkie snorted and turned to face Maud. Her eyes were wide and dripping tears but she couldn’t stop laughing.

“…I saw it, Maud,” Pinkie whispered hysterically.

“The flash?”

“No. Everything. I saw everything…”

Maud could have winced at the superficial cuts and dirty bruises that now decorated her beloved sister’s pink hide. But as long as nothing was broken Maud assured herself that things would be okay. Pinkie was always okay.

Maud pulled Pinkie into a walk. “You can tell me all about it after we get you home.”

Pinkie snickered and wheezed. “Home? Kkhheehee… Where is home anymore? Is it this broken world? Heehee.. Or the next? Or the next? Or the next? Or the—”

“Pinkie, stop that,” Maud said. “I’d be worried you hit your head, but it looks like this cotton-candy mess would have cushioned your brains if you did.” Maud patted the fluffy pink mane.

“Hit my…” Pinkie’s eyes narrowed, unfocused. “No. I stood. I saw the light. I saw the sky open wide as it birthed all the horrors never meant to be. I saw limitless directions both forwards and sideways—all dark lines from this moment spread. It was chaos and fate. It was twilight and starlight and the hungry sky…”

“Pinkie,” Maud said in her usual flat tone. “You’re scaring me.”

Pinkie looked up at her big sister, as if recognising her at last. Her little pink face scrunched up and she began to cry. To really, properly cry.

“I’ve got you,” Maud said, stopping to hold her close.

Hoofsteps approached the tunnel entrance.

“Pinkamina!?” they called. “Pinkamina?”