Without Mirrors
The little office was as close to the center of the castle as possible, impossible for any direct ray of sunlight to reach. It was mostly in the name of keeping the rainbows down.
The pegasus standing in front of the desk understood the reasoning, and not just because he'd overheard two of the
not my companions, not my squad, not my -- anything...
Guards talking about it. While that higher rank, command position, and just marriage should have theoretically saved the Captain from some of it, the fact was that his officer had the same problems which practically everypony in the Equestrian delegation had to deal with every day. (The pegasus hadn't managed to adjust to a single one of them.) And high on that list was light -- or rather, what happened to light after it touched the walls, the furnishings, and every last pony among the native population.
For light to contact a surface in the Empire was generally for that illumination to fracture -- but if it reflected through the proper surface, it could also intensify. A crystal coat would just bounce that beam somewhere else, while those of the Equestrians -- well, one of the first things everypony had learned was that if they started to feel oddly warm, it was time to move. (The lesson concerning being very careful about where you placed your paperwork -- well, some had been later to that one than others.) But even when the visitors were being cautious, they could often find themselves trying to practice that caution while stumbling around half-blind, frantically blinking in the desperate hopes that it would somehow make their vision clear a little faster -- because there were also times when that light would go directly into their eyes, and the frequency of those occasions was generally at least seven times daily. (For the pegasus, closer to twenty.) The few doctors who'd had a chance to examine the crystal ponies had found an unusual layer within their irises, something which seemed to fully protect them from the toll everypony else so casually paid while stumbling into the walls of the city. The Equestrians were just trying to introduce the concept of 'sunglasses' to a species which didn't need them, generally in bulk.
Of course, there were other ways to fight the problem. Considerate crystals would wear thin layers of cloth while among the Equestrians, cutting down the local number of reflective surfaces. Curtains were very much in imported fashion, along with wall drapes, tapestries, screens, carpets, and the occasional full-wall painting. But still... at any moment, there was a chance that a stray beam would find just the right surface, get past every defense the new arrivals could construct. There was no way to completely avoid it, because you needed light to see, even when the pegasus just wished he could close his eyes and let the darkness wash over him in waves of angry sound, with what had to be yelling (the Captain had to yell at him eventually, should have done it so many times already) driving those shadows deeper and deeper, until the pressure finally sent him out the door.
He was standing on the thick carpet of that office: an unnecessary luxury for a Solar or Lunar officer, a first line of defense in the Empire. He theoretically had the option to look at some of the wall hangings, or inspect a few of the wedding photos on the Captain's desk. But he knew where the Captain wanted his gaze to rest: on the unicorn, and nowhere else. And so the pegasus looked straight ahead as the light rebounded around the room, fracturing and recombining with every fresh impact, filling the air with the current possible minimum of rainbows.
I wonder what it'll do when it hits the sweat in my coat.
In theory, his armor should have been good for hiding a little of that. In reality, it was mostly good for keeping the little drops from evaporating, allowing them to drip down his body until they united as small rivers which generally flowed out around his forelegs. (He tended to keep his front knees slightly bent, just to make sure it would wind up as the forelegs. His existence was already humiliating enough.) He could feel the moisture gathering on his skin, with not enough of it soaking into the fur.
The Captain's horn ignited. A drawer opened, and a bubble of glowing field brought a file up to the surface of the desk. This wasn't a casual thing: the file was twice as thick as the pegasus' armor and might have been able to take a rather heavy kick if only it hadn't been put together with the intent of inflicting damage. As such, watching it emerge was rather like witnessing somepony donning the world's most solid pair of diamond-edged hoof daggers.
The pegasus forced himself to look at the Captain, waited, and listened to the thought echoing within his own mind, the same one he had every morning at the moment he first opened his eyes.
I'll get fired today.
"I just want to make sure I have all the facts straight," Captain Armor said as his field began to flip through pages. "Now, as I hope you recall, when last we met, I decided to try you out on law enforcement duty." A little too sharply, "You do remember that?"
"Yes, sir," the pegasus tried, followed by immediately hoping for a chance at better last words.
"Looking out for basic things," the Captain continued. "As most of Sombra's laws have been repealed and we're still drafting most of what should be enforced. Nothing which would take very long to memorize."
The pegasus forced a nod. The Empire didn't have a police force of its own -- or rather, it hadn't had one which operated in the open, not for a very long time. The early parts of Sombra's reign had used those ponies who were willing to betray their neighbors in exchange for a chance at the illusion of power. The latter portions had mostly taken place after Sombra told his secret police that a pony who would betray a neighbor was one who would consider doing the same to their leader, which was a horrible thought to be having about somepony you were supposed to love. And so he'd put together a two-stage operation for dismissing them: first from the job, and then from existence.
The Empire needed to have so many things replaced or repaired, and the latter started with the morale of its citizens, few of whom were emotionally capable of truly keeping an eye on their own. So while the Cabinet both tried to put together an effective training program and searched for the ponies who could fill it, the Guards were filling in the gap. With the exception of the pegasus, who generally only wound up doing so after inevitably falling into the newest crack.
"According to this report," the Captain went on, "you were patrolling Geode Park. On hoof, as the natives still have trouble with shadows falling across their bodies. You apparently decided, in a move which would normally qualify you as a true police officer, that your hooves were tired and you wanted to take a little weight off them for a few minutes, which is understandable after a full day in armor. Also, the witnesses report, at least for those who can remember something which isn't the final crash, that you weren't wearing your sunglasses."
"I lost them, sir."
"Again," the Captain stated.
"Yes, sir." He didn't know what had happened. He'd taken them off with the intent of dipping them in a fountain and rinsing them clean. He'd heard a sound off to his left, looked towards it, wound up temporarily blinded (for the eighth time that day, sunglasses or no) and by the time his watering eyes had cleared, they'd vanished.
"How many is that now?"
"Six."
"Six this moon," the Captain said.
Oh. "This moon, sir? I thought you meant this week --"
"-- and that would be why you sought out some shade." Pages flipped. "In the shadow of a statue. One of those Sombra had put up as a monument to himself. The ones we're still removing. In fact, at least for the park, you found the very last statue, which was apparently supposed to be gone shortly before you -- had your encounter." More paper moved, fast enough to shift the strands of carpet in a sweat-tinged breeze. "Now according to the crew, they'd been working hard all day, they were running low on energy, and they'd just managed to get it partially out of the ground before they figured out they were too exhausted to finish. So, being ahead of schedule anyway, they lowered it back and left it there. They departed. Then you came along, saw a statue which certainly casts a rather significant shadow, and being tired, leaned your body against what the excavation crew is estimating was eighty bale-weights of stone, at least when it was still intact. What do you weigh, Private? In armor."
"About a bale and a half, sir." Pegasi tended to have a little less mass than the other two major Equestrian species.
"So confirm for me," the Captain said. "Tired. Probably tired of dealing with Sun on both crystal and crystals. A little sore from a day in armor. You saw the statue and decided its shadow, as something which doesn't terrify you, created a good place to rest. Do I have all that right?"
"Yes," the pegasus reluctantly said -- then, because one of them was going to say it anyway, "And there were children. Playing at the bottom of the little hill, sir. It's the first time I'd seen anypony playing in the park, and -- I just thought I would stop and watch them for a few minutes, sir."
(There had been another reason for his having stopped there. Exactly there. He hadn't recognized it in time, hadn't realized what he'd truly been listening to, and could never tell the Captain about any of it.)
"Oh, yes," the Captain nodded. "The children."
Silence settled across the office, or rather, pummeled the pegasus until the increasing pressure drove down the crest of his mane.
"Sir," the pegasus finally said, "it could have been so much worse --"
"-- you're a bale and a half in armor," the Captain cut him off. "Minus something right now for lost water weight, but let's say that's where you were at the moment you leaned your full mass against the base of an eighty-bale stone statue. If I was about to work the final total of that equation, would you say I had everything prior to the equal sign right?"
"...yes."
"In that case, Private," the Captain said as he reared up, planted white forehooves on the desk, "why don't you explain to me how a pegasus weighing in at a bale and a half knocks over an eighty-bale statue by leaning against it, sending it rolling down the little hill you mentioned and scaring the horse apples out of about fifteen colts and fillies. Because I am trying to do the math and none of it is working out, not even when I try to add in the rather surprising and constant variable that is you."
The pegasus couldn't say anything. There might have been nothing to say at all, at least not that he wanted to say, not even in the face of what was coming, the inevitability of what frankly should have happened so much earlier than this. He couldn't explain himself to another pony, not with the only reason he truly had to give.
It was bad enough that they all knew he was the worst Guard in history. He didn't have to tell them how just badly he was broken. And so the words only sounded within him, the sentences he'd started repeating to himself even as he'd flown down to help the terrified children.
I was tired. I'm not used to being on my hooves that long, not on ground and not on crystal. It's not the same as clouds. I get sore. And I wanted to rest, and then I knew I wanted to rest in the shadow of the statue, and then I thought that if I leaned myself just right against the stone, it would rub against that one place where the armor irritates my skin.
I don't know why the statue toppled.
I don't understand how it toppled over me. How I could have turned into a fulcrum point, where the top hit the ground and the bottom rose up without any of the weight crushing me, and then it just went end over end down the hill.
But it toppled away from the children. They just heard the noise, and looked up to see a giant stone Sombra moving, and it -- brought things back for them. I'm sorry for that, I am, but it could have been so much worse and...
I wanted to rub a sore spot in the shade, where my eyes wouldn't sting so much and maybe I'd feel a little better for a while. I could pretend I felt better.
Only it wasn't me who wanted to do that.
"I was looking over your file," Captain Armor said. "That takes a while. Especially getting through all the transfer requests."
The pegasus didn't move.
"It's amazing, really. How every single commanding officer you've ever had has begged to have you transferred out."
He couldn't move.
"Refresh my memory," the Captain ordered, "because it all starts to blur together after a while. Pundamilia Makazi. What happened there?"
"I -- knocked over a vat of potion."
Eight more pages turned. "Right. The one which takes three years of tending to make. Constant tending. The zebras work in shifts under Sun and Moon because if it's left to itself for more than twenty seconds without magical attention, everything goes wrong. They were showing it to the ambassador you were accompanying. On bottling day. Just before she got the first taste."
He winced, which at least counted for movement.
"Then there was the Appleloosa assignment," the Captain continued. "It's a very neat trick, defiling a buffalo's burial grounds. You do know how obsessive they are about land ownership? And how they continue to assign those rights to their dead? How upset they get when they discover somepony's crossed that line? They had to reconsecrate from scratch. Two weeks of singing and dancing. Very loud singing, more than enough to reach our settlement -- and incidentally, all of that also goes on continuously under both Sun and Moon until it's done. What exactly is your fascination with long shifts?"
"Sir, I was just inspecting the border and it looked as if --"
"-- oh, and the palace." He was approaching the last page, what the pegasus so hoped would be the last page ever. "That's the one just before we got you. I understand that Princess Luna picked you out of her bath. Eventually."
He'd been half-deaf for three days following the rescue. It had been a combination of waterlogged ears and being Canterlot Royal Voiced for twenty minutes within echoing marble.
"Why did you become a Guard, Private?"
"My parents were both Guards, sir." He suspected it was an answer the Captain already had, along with being the only one he'd ever believe. "I was a -- legacy hire."
"Oh, right. Bulwark and Tower. Before my time, but I've heard of them. It's hard not to hear of legends." With brief thoughtfulness, "You were born rather late in the marriage, then." Followed by, with a surge in volume and the corona around the horn finally beginning to show spikes, "And now that we know how you started -- looking at this file and everything recorded within it -- why are you still a Guard?"
Let it happen. Please, please just let it happen...
"I think it's the same reason, sir," he submitted in every way. "My superiors thought that because of who my parents are, there had to be something of them in me. And then they sent me to where somepony else could look for it. Somewhere else."
"This is the Empire," Captain Armor softly stated. "There is nowhere else."
It was coming. The pegasus could feel it.
"One time is happenstance," his most recent (and last) Captain quoted. "Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action. You are, shall we say, accident-prone. Disasters follow in your wake, generally about two tail strands behind. And anypony can have one bad moment. Two is understandable. The truly unlucky might get to three, and calling that pony an enemy would be often somewhat unkind. But what term would you use for a pony who, if left to himself, would soon fly past the half-century mark while still accelerating?"
He knew what the term was. Fired.
"Everything you've done," the Captain said. "Everything which just seems to happen, with you at the center every time. There's a mark for luck, Private, although I've never been fortunate enough to meet somepony with one. Perhaps there's also one for disaster, or for luck which goes wrong at the worst possible moment. And when I add this entire file to your bed..."
The pegasus blinked.
"Sir?"
"It's a little thing," the Captain continued. "And yet, when I add that little thing to everything else, it feels like the last thing. Nopony says anything good about you. Nopony among the Crystal Guard says anything about you, unless they happen to be laughing. I told you on the first day you arrived in the barracks, Private: when you make your bed, I expect something so solid as to let me bounce a bit off the sheets. Or a Crystake, here. You have been among your barracks-mates for a few moons now, with all the things which happen to and around you -- and your bed still isn't properly made. I generally expect to see a new arrival up to standards within three weeks, but with you..."
The Captain had mentioned it, on the very first day, right after introducing him to the rest of the Guards, while standing within the barracks, next to that soon-to-be-cursed bed. And the pegasus hadn't understood.
Oh, he'd understood the goal. And he could see that every morning, after he got back from toiletries, everypony else had accomplished it. Sheets tight enough to bounce a coin off, or in this case, a little crystal shard. But he didn't know how it was supposed to be done. He'd tried pulling with his teeth, nudging with his head, balancing the mattress on his snout. Nothing ever worked. He could make a bed, certainly -- to normal standards: slightly rumpled, looking somewhat inviting if not for the barracks (because he was always on edge in the barracks, had been from his first day and didn't know why) and the fact that everypony else had pulled their beds away from his. He didn't know how to make a bed to the Captain's requirements. As far as he could see, only a field would do it -- and the Captain had forbidden the use of unicorn telekinesis for mere bedmaking.
"You have been everywhere," the Captain quietly finished. "Under just about everypony's command. It's hard to travel the world at your age, Private, and yet you've done your best, through doing your worst. But this is the Empire. The last possible stop."
It was happening.
He was finally going to be free.
"So --"
-- and the hoof knocked on the door.
Captain Armor's expression froze.
"Don't move," he told the pegasus. Then, towards the door, "What is it?"
The crystal panel swung inwards. "Captain?" the Empire's head of Education said. "The meeting is about to start. Your wife asked me to make sure you'd be there. On time."
The Captain seemed to swallow most of his sigh. "All right, Tanza. I just need a few --"
"-- and on time," the blue-black crystal mare finished, "was three minutes ago. Are you coming?"
After a long moment, "Yes. Right now." He reared back, dropped to floor level and came out from behind the desk, began trotting towards the door. "Let's go see what today's crisis is."
Tanza sighed. "It's not much, Captain. Mostly just the new discovery."
He nodded. "We'll work something out." And then, just before he would have gone into the glittering hall, "You. Follow me."
The pegasus slowly turned. "Sir?"
"We're not done," the Captain declared. "And until we do finish, I want you where I can keep an eye on you. So you're attending the meeting."
"Sir --"
"There's nothing classified that I'm aware of," his final officer stated. "And in the event that you manage to be everything your file says you are in the middle of the Cabinet, there's an alicorn on the premises. I'm almost sure she's up to stopping you. This is an order, Private: Follow. Me."
And Flash Sentry, standing within the last place he could ever go, with what he saw as his final fate only briefly postponed, followed.
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So it finally happened. After his minor cameo in the prequel story above -- I've finally brought him all the way into the 'verse.
*spreads arms wide*
LET THE AUTOMATIC DOWNVOTES FLOW!
Chapter 2 will likely be up tomorrow, and the story should be complete by Friday.
7970281 In the grand tradition of proving you wrong...
Everyone, upvote!
Huh, I wonder what his magic does. It's certainly going to be weird.
....Estee you've made a flash sentry fic I have to upvote. Stop breaking reality harder than Discord and Q teaming up with Pinkie Pie...
So it sounds like the only place to safely put Flash Sentry is in a position that you *want* screwed up.
"So let me get this straight, sir." Flash looked down at the paper again, in the forlorn hopes that the letters had decided to rearrange themselves into something sane. "You're assigning me to escort Discord on his visit. And you're ordering me to do whatever he tells me to do. Is that right?"
Poor Flash. Still, I get the feeling he wants to be fired, ike he only went into it because he was a legacy
I didn't notice this was a multi parter, glad I saw your comment
No downvotes yet. I once got three within half an hour of a Flash story going live. I'd say you're doing well.
In any case, definitely looking forward to seeing what you make of the waffle thief. This should prove very interesting indeed.
7970281 ...I hate you for writing a Flash Sentry fic I can't in good conscience not upvote.
Interesting. So it seems he wants out of the guard. I wonder if any of his mistakes have been deliberate, or if he just is that clumsy
Probably the only thing worse than coming out of a meeting without your job when you went into it thinking, "It's finally my day in the sun!" is coming out of a meeting with your job when you went into it thinking, "This time for sure!"
Even moreso when the job you have is one where you can't just quit.
7970389
↑↑↑↑↑↑
Written by a man who briefly forgot the other local definition of 'escort'.
It's been an hour and there are no downvotes yet.
I think you're going to be breaking some kind of record, Estee.
And Flash Sentry...gods, I wish I didn't know and understand why the bed exemplifies his experience in the guard so well.
Also, I have a suspicion about how exactly his ineptitude came to pass. Not the "gods, hopefully if I screw up even here I'm going to get fired" but the one that came from before he actually joined.
7970459
Something tells me Discord would remember.
And if Flash is one thing (judging from his status at CHS), it's eye candy.
Now here's an idea: Discord and Cadance teaming up to create a matchmaking service.
"Have somepony you're totally into? Don't worry! We'll make sure you will both be... madly in love..!"
A different kind of story. I'm really interested in how this goes.
Oh, and for those of you reading Shining's dialogue and hearing just a touch of Samuel Vimes...
...me too.
I may now have an obligation to put an angry Shining and ticked-off Celestia (who, when furious and in the mood for revenge, already gets written as Princess Havehock) in the same room.
...the Pony Flash Sentry and the human Flash Sentry switched places a long time ago, and there is no mirror for him to get back with? (The business of being unable to make a bed, the way other Pegasi obviously can, is somehow suggestive).
I don't like the comic canon that Sombra was an actual creature of shadows rather than an evil unicorn wizard, but if he was, this story gives another reason he would have really hated living in the Crystal Empire.
Poor Flash. He only exists in the first place because someone at Hasbro said "it's magical girls at a highschool, right? So there has to be some sort of romance. Make it so." And so, for the sins of Hasbro, he has suffered the eternal scorn of a large part of the fandom ever since. [1] I hope whatever happens to him in this story, he ends up in a somewhat better place by the end of it.
[1] Although there are actual Twilight-Flash shippers. De gustibus non est disputandum.
Reminds me of Derpies.
"I just don't know what went wrong!"
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derpicdn.net/img/view/2016/4/10/1128746__safe_equestria+girls_screencap_derpy+hooves_sad_friendship+games_spoiler-colon-friendship+games_flash+sentry_guitar_comforting.png
The difference being, of course, that Derpy is still upbeat and cheerful and a little oblivious, while Flash here is painfully aware how much the universe hates him.
I see where this one is going. He has the mark of Murphy, but it's also a mark of sacrifice. All of the incidents he's been part of, and the accidents therein are actually beneficial if unacknowledged. Either by fate/chance or some sort of Sentry-Sense he's always in the right place at the right time to fix an issue.
A statue that was going to fall anyways, managing to be redirected through him nudging it slightly. A potion that was probably bad or poisoned somehow before it gets bottled, and then something with Luna's bath... assassin? Thief? Intruder of some form? Evil sentient bathsoaps created by a nightmare moon cult intent on giving birth to a new nightmare?
Now... what other incidents can he get involved in to stumble into the solution...
Curious, were you the one who came up with the crystal lenses concept or are you borrowing it? I've seen it elsewhere though I can't remember where for the life of me.
Edit: And of course we eventually learn that Flash Sentry is one of the doctor's... an abnormal talent like many others.
7970937
Except that, in this universe, Dulcinea ("Derpy" is the nickname everypony calls her, which she hates) is also aware of the universe hating her and so deliberately plays up the doofball role in order to both not have ponies expect much of her and so she can get away with subtly avenging herself. That time she dropped all the stuff on Twilight's head, or smashed the town hall? Totally not accidents.
7971013 I feel bad replying to such a long comment for just one question, but the crystal lenses? I think they're a reference to The Wizard Of Oz - in the Emerald City, everything is so bright that everyone has to wear special sunglasses or they'd go blind.
This poor, unfortunate bastard about to get thrown out on his flank. And I really, really want it to happen.
Which means, considering it's an Estee story, that I'm going to be sorely disappointed.
Sombra was a clever pony. The more I red about him, the more I like him.
What?
I AM Evil, afterall...
Poor Flash Sentry. It's almost like he suffers from the congealed ire of thousands of sapient/sentients across hundreds of dimensions, a magnet for ill-feeling misdirected at an instance entirely unrelated to the primary instigator. Which, actually, given the Continuum (and occasionally Practettian leanings of the author) would not hugely surprise me if it was the truth...!
7970837
Yes. Please. So very much please. The guards are my favourites and Vetanari probably my favourite Discworld character (which will surprise no-one who spent any time around me (or even just read the first part of this post!), I'm sure).
Not especially related, only insoiar as thinking about Shiny and Caddy in the Continuum, I'm just having a quiet moment of horror, thinking about the 'verse and what Flurry Heart (if she ever exists at all) would be like here, given the popular (and rather delightful) fandom conception as her as some sort of gleeful avatar of destruction....!
Flash Sentry, huh? Interesting choice of character, you do like to get into the heads of all the poor unloved waifs and strays of Equestria. And he's about as unloved as its' possible to get, the poor bugger.
And yet, in one chapter, you've made him rather sympathetic. Because everyone has days or months where everything they touch turns to disaster. I'll read this with interest.
Oh, and writing Shining Armour as a distant pony relation to His Grace, The Duke of Ankh, Commander Sir Samuel "Blackboard Monitor" Vimes is an entertaining touch.
My follower count dropped today.
And yet we go on. Starting composition on Chapter #2.
ETA: Initial composition complete: beginning edits.
Dude, is he related to Trouble Hooves or something?
7972195
Everytime i see your name i yearn for Austraeoh
7970837
Samuel Vimes has Views on armour. If it isn't dented to the point it can't hold a polish then it's wearer isn't doing their job. Shining Armour's opinion on a well made bed seems to be something of a counterpoint to this. I often imagine Mister Vimes sneering at Shining Armour. So not especially. But I can see where you are coming from.
ah, so THAT'S the "bounce test" the title refers to!
7970837 Discworld eh, is that why I'm getting hints of a Moist Von Lipwig vibe in Flash?
7970837
But then... Who is in Mr. Lipwig's place? The wonder twins?
Huh, that's an interesting take on rainbows here.
I mean, if you really want to get drummed out, it can't be that difficult to arrange. Just up and punch somepony or summat.
So Flash Sentry has the Murphy.
'Evrything that can go wrong, will go wrong.'
A good character trait.
7972592
reminds me of something i read somewhere, i think it was in a "Ripley's believe it or not":
a certain armor-maker would TEST the armor before selling it to see if it could stop a Crossbow Bolt at close range.
so if it had a dent but not a HOLE it passed the test and could be sold.