• Published 25th May 2017
  • 11,159 Views, 1,341 Comments

Spectrum - Sledge115



Secrets come to light when a human appears, and the Equestrians learn of a world under siege – by none other than themselves. Caught in a web that binds the great and humble alike, can Lyra find what part she’ll play in the fate of three realms?

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Act III ~ Chapter Twenty-Six ~ Here's To You

Spectrum

The Team

TheIdiot

DoctorFluffy

VoxAdam

Sledge115

RoyalPsycho

TB3

Kizuna Tallis

ProudToBe

Chapter Twenty-Six
Here’s To You

Dedicated to Jeremy Whitley

* * * * *

“No distance of place or lapse of time can lessen the friendship of those who are thoroughly persuaded of each other’s worth.”
Robert Southey

~ Ponyville, Equestria ~ Day 20 of the Convocation ~ First Day of the Month of Gytrash ~

For the past few weeks, ever since Miss Heartstrings had come knocking at their Ogres and Oubliettes session, things had been quiet in Ruby Pinch’s corner of Ponyville. Of course, Dinky’s campaign hadn’t finished yet, and Featherweight’s indecisiveness had only prolonged it. Where they’d been planning five hours, they were now looking at twenty. Still, it was fun playing. And perhaps Feather really was holding out hope for Dinky’s older sister. Ruby couldn’t be sure.

What she felt sure about, though, was the lack of sense both her aunt and mother showed in their talk over tea. It would’ve been awkward for anyone to see her right now, with one ear nearly glued to the living-room door. But it paled in comparison to what she was hearing inside.

“Look, I-I know all the other parents’ll be signing their kids up,” said her mother’s nervous voice. “And I don’t want Ruby left out. B-but… you know what it’s like, every time they set up something big, there’s trouble.”

“I know what you mean, Berry,” said her aunt. “But try to think of it this way, this is something they’re doing to get everyone prepared for when things really get big. That’s why they’re putting it in Summer, instead of dropping it on us when school year begins.”

Ruby did pay a bit of attention to newspapers. You couldn’t be friends with Featherweight and not keep an eye open, especially with him snooping around. But it had been hard to get interested in what the papers were saying about that convocation of creatures. Ruby had heard her aunt mention it was a meeting “in high places”, and she supposed it couldn’t get any higher than a mountain.

However, instead of pictures or stories of new creatures from around the world, the newspapers were just full of talk about trade deals and negotiations. All that stuff which growns-ups liked to chat about, yet she and friends couldn’t stay awake for. Dinky at least might have been interested if there was some science talk. But there was none, either. So they’d stopped paying attention. Now, it looked as if they should have prepared for the worst.

Classes, in Summer! The nerve of her aunt. If this was as bad as it sounded, perhaps she’d have to find another favourite teacher.

“And besides,” said Aunt Cheerilee. “It’d make a difference for Ruby to get lessons from someone who isn’t family.”

“You really think so?” her mother replied. “Not that I disapprove, no, it’s just she doesn’t accept change that fast. Well, I guess you’ve been teaching her a while... I wonder who they’ll bring in.”

“A pony, I guess?” said her aunt. “Someone who’s had time to do quick research? I mean, this is meant for kids, they’re not gonna pile the higher-level stuff on them, surely.”

“I hope so…” her mother said. “I… Sorry, it’s just you know I get a bit… skittish, when we’ve got strange new creatures about.”

Ruby gasped. So, this did have to do with what Feather saw.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Aunt Cheerilee said again. “Let’s hope it’s… I don’t know. Let’s hope this is another Zecora, in the end.”

“It’s got to be, right?” her mother said uncertainly. “If they’re talking classes about it…”

Ruby didn’t wait to hear more. She knew how talks between her mother and aunt went. They’d go over it in circles for hours, but at the end of it, Aunt Cheerilee would talk her mother into this, tell her it was for the best. Grown-ups always liked to do that.

She pulled away from the door. It had been a good day till now, with her friends shouting about whether or not Pip should have used a fireball again. But then Aunt Cheerilee had popped in unexpectedly for tea, and her mother had said they needed to clear the living-room. Just her luck they’d been playing Ogres & Oubliettes at her house today.

And because of this, Ruby thought as she climbed upstairs, it might be the last of the good days.

Ruby opened the door to her room, and hopped onto her bed. The Sun shone between her rose-tinted curtains. Nightfall was still hours away. Maybe Aunt Cheerilee and her mother would have finished talking by then. Her friends would want to know, but Ruby didn’t feel like giving them the bad news just yet. Ponyville had been crazy for the last couple of years, ever since that one Summer Sun Celebration gone wrong. Maybe this was just one other crazy time to pass by, with stranger things yet to come.

A new picture-book rested on her night-stand. Rather than wait to read it with her mother, Ruby picked it up. The Dragons on Dazzle Island.

Leafing the pages, Ruby tried to make her worries fade by immersing herself in the story, about the dragons’ eggs on a gem-filled island, and how Windigoes kept them from hatching until they were warmed by love. But the watercolours of exotic creatures led her mind to stray.

It had been Featherweight who took the picture. He’d taken lots of curious pictures before. Maybe he wouldn't have thought much of this one, if it hadn’t been for his mother requesting she give him that one picture for safe-keeping. His mother was a Forest Ranger, she probably knew what she was doing. Ruby didn’t know much about the grown-up talk going on elsewhere.

All Ruby knew was that it had something to do with the creature Featherweight had caught on photo weeks ago, carried in from the Forest by Miss Twilight and her friends.

* * * * *

At Sweet Apple Acres, Applejack was wrapped up in work, like always.

“Applebloom!” called the farmer to her little sister, “Be sure to keep an eye on the pies, alright? Ah’ve got somethin’ to check up on with Big Mac.”

Whatever crazy cutie-mark seeking scheme the filly had been planning this time, Applebloom came into the kitchen at a quick trot and without needing to be called twice, a sisterly eagerness in her amber eyes. Winona hurried after her, barking excitedly. However, in her haste, ‘Bloom had forgotten to take something off her back which was knocking her pink hair-bow askew.

“What’s that?” asked Applejack, unable to get a closer look while she kept glancing at the oven.

“Skis!” Applebloom said proudly, putting down what Applejack now saw were two blue skis. “Got ‘em this morning. Ah remembered, Rainbow Dash keeps all sorts of her old sport stuff in her dojo’s locker room, and she gave Scoot the key before she left…”

“Say what? Skis?” Applejack said, turning. “It ain’t Winter for another five months!”

“Not those skis. Water-skis,” explained Applebloom. “Me and the girls are plannin’ on tryin’ that out next this Summer.”

“Oh,” said Applejack, getting it now. “Crusadin’?”

“Yep,” Applebloom said brightly, patting Winona. “But also cos’ it looks like it might be fun.”

A momentary urge arose within Applejack to bid Applebloom to take every possible precaution. She instantly suppressed it. But she felt a little shakey. After what Discord had done to her, she’d gone through a period of acting very overprotective of Applebloom, trying to shield her from every possible danger.

Which had almost cost her a sister. Over apple pie, of all things, just like what was baking in the oven at this moment.

“Well, keep watch on what’s cookin’, alright?” Applejack said fondly. “Ah’ll be back in a tick.”

Yet the thought of her baby sister, so stubborn, heading off with a risky apple-pie delivery and wandering right into a dangerous fire-swamp, still made Applejack feel chilly, such as had reawakened within her lately.

And not because it was Winter, which it certainly wasn’t. Though Winter felt like it was coming.

A feeling, speaking of chill, which Applejack found best alleviated by another kind of freshness. On her way out from the kitchen, she stopped just to pick herself a small carton of home-made apple juice from the ‘frigerator.

She couldn’t help giving the fridge a critical look as she closed it. The new-fangled Kirin device reminded her a little too much of the Flim-Flam Brothers, and their darn tootin’ mechanisation, for her liking.

But it sure had its uses, Applejack reflected, sipping from her juice-box as she walked. She found herself wondering about the human world and what she’d heard, in Twilight and Lyra’s letters from the Hall of Unity, of their technological prowess.

It made her frown slightly. On the one hoof, for a people who didn’t have the sturdiest bodies, it was mighty clever to have lasted so long and invented all kinds of means around their handicaps. On the other, Applejack had to ask herself if too much machinery wasn’t too softening.

She was proud of the work she did for the sake of Ponyville, proud of it even if she didn’t always live up to her own expectations, like when she’d attended that Rodeo to win the repair money for Ponyville after Spike had gone on his greed-induced dragon growth spurt. And how many times had she fixed the old barn? A barn that always seemed to be undergoing a makeover of some sort, right down to that time she’d even asked Rainbow Dash to demolish it.

Still, what was more impressive than finding solutions to problems with no magic at all? Twi’ had also said that, with the return of the Crystal Realm, new windows would be opened to Equestria’s use of magic, on what she called the macro and the micro level. Which was simply a fancy way of saying in big ways and small ways.

Now, speaking of big…

“Howdy, Mac,” Applejack greeted her brother, bigger than her in more ways than one, as she came into the living room. She lay down her juice-box on the cabinet below the bookshelf. “Said ya had somethin’ to share ‘bout the accounts?”

“Eeyup,” said Big Mac, with his customary laconic delivery.

What he then showed Applejack, on the other hoof, was rather more descriptive, a familiar means for people who didn’t talk much to express themselves. Ever the head for numbers, Big Mac had written up the latest accounts for Sweet Apple Acres.

Applejack accepted the piece of paper from him. She gasped softly when she saw what it read.

“Whoa, nelly… An order for that many new bushels?” Applejack asked her brother. When he nodded silently, she responded with a shake of the head, disbelieving. “So many apples… Ain’t it a darn shame, the Royal Guard gotta spoil it by bakin’ them into those military biscuits… Looks like they’re stockin’ up, they are…”

She gave the list another look, before casting a glance at Granny Smith. Who, as was typical at this time of day, was napping away the afternoon in her comfy chair by the stairs. But the old mare was far from oblivious to the recent going-ons.

If anything, Granny had needed to get her daily rest a lot more lately.

“Mayhap we should start thinkin’ of packin’ more of our products in tins…” mused Applejack.

Zap Apple Jam, of course, was the first Apple product which came to her mind as something that could be packaged into tins.

Applejack had to smile crookedly at the thought of Granny Smith in her non-standard Royal Guard helmet, processing empty jam jars as if they were the troops. Where had that silly headgear come from, again? Probably her late grandfather, a former Guard.

Except the helmet seemed a lot less silly to think about, knowing what she knew now.

“Okay,” Applejack said, returning the list to Big Mac. “Thanks for tellin’ me. Well, the pies ought be done soon. Hey, Mac,” she added, leaning in to touch his shoulder, “Glad ya agreed to deliver these ones. Ah know, ‘Bloom knows the Everfree and Zecora’s her friend, but… Funny things have been comin’ outta that Forest again, of late.”

Big Mac gave her a quiet nod. She was then surprised to hear him speak. “What about that… other thing we talked about, AJ?”

Right. Their visitor from Manehattan.

“Ah’ll tell Applebloom in town, once she’s with her friends,” Applejack told him. “And when Ah’m with mine too. Heh, Twilight’s already asked me to look after one townie we got comin’ in soon… It’s gonna be strange, havin’ someone else takin’ care of her library. But Ah hope that ‘Bloom and her cousin will get along.”

Applejack really did hope so. When Babs’ parents had written to say their daughter was getting teased in school over her blank flank, naturally she’d concluded the filly and Applebloom would be birds of a feather. She really didn’t get why some foals mocked others for lacking a mark yet. She’d been last in her class to get her mark and this had never bothered her. It was always going to be there one day. Kids just liked finding excuses to shut out others.

Only it wasn’t just kids, Applejack considered sourly. The so-called grown-up world was far too full of people who’d never stopped their schoolyard bullying, except that when they did so, it was no longer just the schoolyard, but villages, towns, entire countries. People who apparently found it such a hard thing to grasp, that a little friendship really was magic.

And, now, this was something which had become an issue of worlds…

“Eeyup,” Big Mac said again, interrupting her thoughts.

Friendship, and family, them’s were Applejack’s values. Her sister and Babs had better get along. Apples stuck together. Thinking this caused her eyes to drift towards the cabinet where she’d left her half-finished juice-box.

Most prominently displayed on it was the framed photo of their parents.

Applejack’s eyes began to go moist. Dad had never been a Guard, unlike his own father. Yet with his strong, strapping golden physique, different only from Big Mac’s in that her brother was red, he could have been. She silently pondered whether Mac might be called into service.

Hopefully it could at least wait until the Harvest Day Parade. And Zap Apple Season, Applejack recalled as she cast another glance at a still-napping Granny, would begin not long after. The Timberwolves would be out then, a yearly period when their farm did have enemies to fend off, more than the usual varmints.

But in ordinary times, afterwards, they’d be able to kick back a while and enjoy a good ol’ Apple Family Reunion. It had been planned for early Autumn this year. Maybe this year, rather than risk cancelling it, the Reunion should matter more than ever. Regardless, it was going to be on a different date than the one they’d arranged to coincide with the thousandth Summer Sun Celebration – two years ago now, when she’d first met Twilight Sparkle.

* * * * *

Rarity was busy taking measurements in her Carousel Boutique.

“What do you think?” the dressmaker asked her client, peering over her red designer glasses. “Given your daily profession, doesn’t this have a certain je-ne-sais-quoi?”

While this was the demeanour Rarity was used to adopting in her relationship with her clients, there was an undeniably odd side to keeping it up with this particular client.

“Mmh, yes, maybe it does,” said Nurse Redheart, patting down the fabric that covered her.

The white-and-ruby garment was still in its unfinished state, lacking the adornments which Rarity had planned she’d slip over the sleeves and the hemline. In this sense, what she had here wasn’t unlike the simple plain dress she’d ended up giving Twilight for her last birthday. A pity that Twilight’s newest assignment from Princess Celestia meant she wouldn’t be spending her birthday this year in Equestria.

Summer in Saddle Mareabia. Rarity had winced to consider how terribly hot that must get. She was loath to imagine what the desert Sun could do to her white coat. Still, if she was planning to go on tour in Twilight’s wake, maybe she would pop by in time to see Twilight for her birthday. Despite the inclemency of the weather, Saddle Mareabia provided some of the most gorgeous products on the market, definitely the most pleasingly fragrant. With the Convocation going on, business would beckon beautifully.

“Hey, Sis?” Sweetie Belle’s voice echoed. “You’re in a trance.”

As it was, her little sister’s squeaky voice snapped Rarity out of it. She found both Redheart and Sweetie staring at her queryingly.

“O-oh, I’m sorry,” Rarity mumbled. “Just the muse taking me at an inopportune moment, is all.”

It was clear that while Redheart may have elected to believe her, Sweetie didn’t really buy it. The little white filly knew her older sister’s buttons too well nowadays.

Heh. Button,’ Rarity thought, keeping a smile hidden at the name of the tiny chocolate-brown colt. ‘I wonder when Sweetie’s going to notice that boy has got eyes for her nearly as much as he does those silly arcade games…

What a thing, to be young and have the brightest dreams, not all of them mere puppy love. Sweetie’s pegasus friend had simply wanted Rainbow Dash to become her sister, and Rarity knew said wish had got granted, during that hike to Rainbow Falls. Trust Sweetie Belle to have roped her into going camping, though. The filly was getting clever, alright.

But the thoughts of youth led Rarity’s mind back to the future, and the glimpse she’d seen of it.

Redheart, her shoulders held between Rarity’s forehooves, must have sensed something change in her dressmaker’s touch, because she cast a meaningful glance back at Rarity.

“I think it’s going to be lovely, Rarity,” Redheart whispered. “With you, it always is. Your work has got a way of brightening the day… One of our biggest pop-stars sure thinks so.”

Too bad Sweetie didn’t know much about pop music. She couldn’t know how much of step on the ladder of Rarity’s career it was to be personal dressmaker for the Pony of Pop, Sapphire Shores. Which reminded her, the season for sapphires was coming up soon. If she was going from Ponyville for a while, she still needed to outsource the gem-digging to someone.

Gems… Oh, right now, I wish my gem-tracking spell weren’t so unique,’ Rarity lamented. ‘If only there was some device… Wait, didn’t Twilight say there was a gem-tracker? That’s right, they found one on–’

Her joints stiffened. It was the other-Redheart who’d had a gem-tracker.

“Okay,” said the Redheart before her. “I like it.”

At her hooves, Opalescence gave a contented purr. For Rarity’s demanding white cat to display her approval was a sure seal of quality.

“Glad you do, darling,” Rarity said falteringly, as she gingerly removed the dress. “I’m glad…”

Stepping out of the textiles, Redheart smiled at Sweetie. “Look to your sister as a role model, little filly. It isn’t many who’d whip up a dress I might not… might not wear for a long time.”

Sweetie nodded cautiously. “Then you’re really joining the Guard again, Redheart?”

“Yeah,” said Redheart, hesitating only a little. “It’s hard to explain, but the time… seemed right.”

“I hope you’ll be okay,” said Sweetie. “You know my friends and I need you.”

Rarity began laughing awkwardly. “N-now don’t make jokes about that, Sweetie, dear!” she said. “It’s not like your cutie-mark crusading gets you sent to the hospital all the time!”

“Hey,” Sweetie protested, “that’s not what you usually–”

“Isn’t she precious?” Rarity said, cutting across Sweetie and pulling her away while addressing Redheart. “I cannot wait to take her as my plus-one to the Grand Galloping Gala, after going back with her to Sisterhooves Social this year!”

“Rarity!” Sweetie interjected. “The Gala is before Sisterhooves Social!”

“Oh, my, is it?” Rarity blinked twice. “Time these days! It’s not what it used to be, you know.”

“You’ve been acting weird,” Sweetie said, easing away from her grip. She stared in concern at both grown-ups. “Is it because Redheart’s returning to duty?”

Rarity shared a look with Redheart. “Something like that.”

“It’ll be fine,” Sweetie smiled reassuringly, brushing back her coiffed mulberry-and-pink mane. “If Redheart was in the Guard, she can deal with anything, right? Scoots told me Rainbow Dash was joining up as well.”

“I hope it will be, Sweetie,” Rarity said, to an agreeing nod from Redheart. “I hope so.”

In a minute, Applejack would be knocking at her boutique’s door, coming to take Sweetie and Applebloom to Sugarcube Corner, where Dash had asked everyone to meet. While all three Cutie Mark Crusaders would stay to hang out together, Rarity and her friends had places to go, once they’d left their pets at the Forest Rangers and picked up Fluttershy.

If only, Rarity thought, her gaze falling upon a year-old line of many-coloured dresses still popular this day, she’d spent more time trusting in Sweetie’s help around the shop. This was how she’d come up with Full Spectrum Fashions, for instance.

… It was a good name, really, “Spectrum”.

* * * * *

Rainbow Dash had just flown down into Ponyville Square, returning from Canterlot.

She knew she had a lot to thank Twilight’s parents for lately. First, Twilight’s mother had been so kind to send her that advance copy of Daring Do & The Volcano of Destiny, which she currently still carried in her saddlebags. That was already a totally awesome thing, but even more importantly, a series of lucky breaks had led to it saving Lyra’s life. To her saving Lyra’s life. Now she’d spent a few days boarding up with Twilight’s parents, long after her friends had returned to Ponyville, while she sorted out her application to the Royal Guard.

Dash gave the surrounding skies a quick, critical look. She wondered who’d be replacing her as Ponyville’s main weathermare. Oftentimes, this was a task picked up by Sunshower Raindrops, but she’d heard from the weathermare association that Raindrops had signed on for a place in the crew of Lyra’s Expedition.

It was mad stuff, even for Ponyville, so many things starting to change so fast. Dash had felt bad enough already to leave her new little sister so soon, when she’d gone to Wonderbolts Academy. Once they’d got the paperwork figured out for Dash’s unexpected change of department, the Wonderbolts would be giving her over to an even more demanding institution, and she’d see still less of Scootaloo.

“Rainbow Dash! You’re back!”

Well, speak of the jack-in-the-box. A small orange filly was zooming her way, not using wings, but the red scooter she drove everywhere. Of course Scootaloo would have spotted Dash arrive from above, trailing her distinctive rainbow trail behind her. The girl was her biggest fan.

“Heya, Squirt,” Dash smirked.

She’d have ruffled Scootaloo’s unruly purple mane, except it was covered by a biking helmet. Safety first. So she did the next best thing and patted Scootaloo’s helmet affectionately.

“You’re here to stay?” Scootaloo asked her hopefully.

It pained Dash to disappoint her with a shake of the head. “Sorry, Scoots,” she said. “Like I wrote, I can only take you as far as Sugarcube Corner today.”

Dash couldn’t help considering the filly’s biking helmet. Protection provided against a fall, sure, but worse blows? That’d need a full armoured Guard helmet.

She disliked thinking this way, yet she kept doing so, at the moment. So very recently, on their camping trip, she’d helped Scootaloo face her fear of scary stories that were just stories. Yet, not only had experience taught her there were some truly scary things out yonder, but now she had learnt that scarier than anything she could imagine was what lay closer to home.

And that story she’d been planning to write about an awesome pegasus becoming Captain of the Wonderbolts… Such a thing seemed so quaint.

Witnessing Scootaloo’s unshakeable attachment to her was making Dash regret that unlike all of her friends, she had never taken on an animal companion, perhaps one as sturdy as armour. Someone to whom she could give uncomplicated love and care and who’d always wait for her.

It would be nice to get a pet, someday.

* * * * *

Pinkie Pie was on the job, behind the counter at Sugarcube Corner.

With Bonbon away with Lyra at the Hall of Unity, there was nowhere else in town where the little colts and fillies and even certain grown ponies who loved sweets could buy succulents, so business had got especially busy for Mr. and Mrs. Cake of late. Which was good for Pinkie, because it gave her a packed routine she could enjoy committing herself to, helping her perpetually-active mind to avoid going places she didn’t want.

“Four more éclairs, please, Pinkie,” piped up Dinky.

The pea-sized blonde filly and her family, seated by the window, were spending the afternoon at Sugarcube Corner. Pinkie was aware that Dinky would have loved to pursue the Ogres & Oubliettes session she had going with Ruby and Pipsqueak and Featherweight, but given Amethyst’s recent close shave in the Forest, going with Lyra to confront the other-Redheart, the tight-knit four-pony family had every reason to spend all the time together they could.

Oh, how crazy it all was, Pinkie thought as she served Dinky. Humans and parallel universes and evil Equestrias and ponies who said they were one thing but were not. That last one hurt deep, when remembering how she’d gone a bit crazy – well, crazier, after what Discord did to her and her friends. Made it so she no longer trusted her friends and had forgotten her own birthday. Okay, forgetting her own birthday, she might have done anyway. But losing trust in her friends?

For what was not the first time this week, Pinkie sensed her mane begin to go limp. It was becoming so hard to make new friends these days. Yet she was Pinkie Pie. She lived for friends. Even that aptly-named cranky donkey, she’d managed to befriend earlier this year. Just in time to invite her to her birthday a few months later…

Pinkie gazed towards her pet baby alligator, standing motionlessly on the counter. Gummy was two years old now, and they were beginning to show, his terrible twoes. The little Cake twins would both be turning one year old this Winter.

What did their future hold, these kids? Pound and Pumpkin, Dinky and Ruby and Pipsqueak and Featherweight and Applebloom and Sweetie Belle and Scootalo…

She paused. The last three of those fillies had just entered Sugarcube Corner, to the tune of the wind-chimes above the door, flanked by Applejack and Rarity and Rainbow Dash, all of whom looked at Pinkie quietly.

Strangely even to herself, Pinkie thought of how the last time she’d tried to “make” new friends from the Mirror Pool, this had created an army of Pinkie Pies.

* * * * *

Fluttershy lay huddled in her Chamber of Extreme Knitting.

She’d come in here for hours, upon her return to Ponyville, becoming more reclusive than ever. Surrounded by ceiling-high stacks of yarn in every conceivable colour, a full spectrum of rainbow hue to rival Dash’s or Celestia’s, over the years, Fluttershy had knitted anything and everything. Cutie marks, cloud gremlins, dictionary-sized books, an explosive butterfly creation she felt particularly proud of…

What she was knitting now would seem, to the uninitiated, the most grotesque mish-mash of creatures the world had seen. Goat, bat, eagle, lion and more all rolled into one.

But to Fluttershy, as she finished knitting one of the mad eyes on Discord’s face, it was source of comfort in her sorrow.

A tiny knock sounded at the cellar door. She stopped, lay down her needles, and sighed. Her white pet bunny, Angel, came in.

He glanced at her creation, smiled at her sadly, then gestured to say it was time to go.

“Okay…” Fluttershy murmured. “I’ll be there…”

Shortly after, a picnic basket in her mouth, Fluttershy met her four friends outside her cottage. They had come with the purple Friendship Balloon, ready to set off for the Hall of Unity.

“You brought snacks, Flutters?” said Pinkie, as Fluttershy deposited the basket, next to where a box of apple pies was already placed.

“Um,” said Fluttershy. “It’s just… jam, really. For Alex. I thought he might like it.”

Rarity and Dash stared at her pensively, but Applejack went to nuzzle her.

“Ya holding up, Sugarcube?” Applejack said sympathetically. “Ah get it. Ain’t easy when someone close to you disappears. But sometimes, they come back, ya know. Ah’m still holding out hope for mah Great Grand-Uncle Chilli Pepper.”

“That’s nice, Applejack,” Fluttershy said. “That’s real nice.”

~ The Hall of Unity ~
Four hours later

“We’re going places, aren’t we, Twi’?” said Lyra. “I’m going to the Arctic. You’re off to the desert.”

They sat facing each other across a table piled with books in, where else, Twilight’s favourite spot in all the Hall, the Great Library. In nearly three weeks of Convocation, nobody had dreamt to displace Twilight’s private hideout of pillows. While Lyra would have preferred somewhere less monumentally quiet, like the dining-hall or karaoke bar, she’d been pleased to discover Twilight was less fussy about silence in a libary so large.

Twilight smiled amiably. “I wondered when you’d hop on that train, Lyra, as it were,” she said. “Studies took up too much time for me to travel much, but Princess Celestia insisted every Summer that I accompany her on a foreign trip.”

“Somewhere sandy, I hope?” Lyra smirked. “With beaches and ice-cream, that is.”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Twilight said. “The Princess likes visiting her friend, the Duchess of Monacolt, for the Summer.”

Lyra’s head jerked. “Monacolt?” she gasped. “Ohmygosh, Twilight, why don’t you ever tell us these things? What’d you see? The Formula Wave Grand Prix? The Top Carts Collection? The Mistmane Garden?”

“Oh, none of those, but it was still pretty exciting, really,” said Twilight. “The Princess would take me to the Monacolt Magic Academy, where they’ve got the Time Glass.”

Lyra rolled her eyes. “Never change,” she said. “Time Glass… Hm. Sparkler told me about it, once. Local legend, isn’t it? But still, surely you can’t have spent all your Summer holidays studying.”

“Spike went sight-seeing. I’d busy myself learning,” Twilight said, a little primly. “You shouldn’t let whatever you’re doing get in the way of extra knowledge. Take your Expedition, for example. While you’re up there, you ought to make use of it for science.”

“Hold on,” Lyra frowned. “It’s already a scientific exped–”

“I mean for other things,” Twilight hurried to say. “Once you reach the Arctic, you’ll have the clearest view of the night skies of anyone in the world. Are you bringing an astronomer along? You should, Lyra. I understand if it’ll have slipped your mind in all the excitement, but there’s a major astronomical event coming up. Secratariat’s Comet’s will pass us by in twenty-five days.”

“An astronomer?” said Lyra. “No, can’t say that we are… But thanks for the tip. Maybe if you’ll lend us your telescope, if that’s alright by you?” While Twilight nodded, she went on. “Okay, Secretariat’s Comet, now… Blimey, that’s a tri-millenial event, right? The last time it passed by was three-thousand years ago, when the Two Sisters were born.”

“Close to when they were born, but not quite,” Twilight corrected. “Although it feels neater to frame it that way.”

A suspicion arose within Lyra, who looked sideways at Twilight.

“You sound awfully interested in astronomy, right now,” said Lyra. “Anything brought this on?”

Twilight blinked. “Um… No, not exactly. Why?”

“I’d have figured,” Lyra said casually, “We’ve both got trips to make. But maybe nowhere as far as we could be going. It just sort of makes sense to me, you know, that if I were to visit Earth, like I wouldn’t mind doing someday– hopefully when this war is over– then you’d be off to the Moon or something.”

“Off to the Moon, huh? Well, I can’t say the thought hasn’t crossed my mind. It’s funny, but when I was little, I used to think the Mare in the Moon was the Mare on the Moon, so I kind of… wished I could go there, to pay her a visit…”

Lyra held back a snicker. These days, it hadn’t escaped anyone’s notice save for Twilight that the mare who’d once lived up there wasted little time in paying her a visit.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past you to build a rocket to travel there.”

“But would it have enough propulsion…”

“Okay, no,” Lyra groaned, “we are not having this argument.”

“It’s a valid question!” Twilight protested, holding back laughter. “Come on, a little math wouldn’t hurt, would it?”

“Well, most ponies aren’t you.”

“Yeah…” Twilight subtly blushed. “That’s what Cadance always used to say.”

“Twi’?” asked Lyra. Twilight’s ears flicked in response. “I wanted to ask you. That evening during the party, back when we were discussing threeso– Um, discussing humans and your trip to Saddle Mareabia. How’d you get to talk to Lady Cadenza?”

“It was easier than you’d think,” said Twilight. “She… approached me, before we talked to you. Was a nice talk, too. Just cleared the air between us, if you get what I mean.”

Twilight shook her head, then held her forehoof to Lyra’s shoulder, once more. “Besides, she told me that, well, I shouldn’t have worried too much about the Archmage. She knows I’m… well, me. So my path is mine to make. If that makes sense.”

Lyra’s thoughts drifted back to the night before her grand speech, where that brilliant, caring mare they called Cadenza had spoken to her, too. She met Twilight’s eyes with renewed confidence, beaming.

“Yeah. Yeah, it does.”

Yet Twilight’s eyes seemed a bit distant.

“Everything okay?” said Lyra, her smile receding. “You appear… deeply thoughtful.”

Her friend’s gaze came back to reality. “Ah…” Twilight said. “On that evening. There was someone else you were hoping to meet, weren’t you?”

To which Lyra nodded hesitantly. “Yeah… But then I ran across Professor Shriek, and that human, Miss Bjorgman…”

“Well,” Twilight said, wavering, “after we parted ways, I stuck with Cadenza. She knows me, Lyra. She took me to meet…”

Twilight did not finish. But Lyra understood right away. They were in a library. And Twilight had been talking about an astronomer.

“Oh, my…” Lyra whispered, leaning forward. “How did that go?”

Upon Twilight’s face, many fleeting emotions crossed.

“You can ask her yourself. She wanted to come and see you here. Right about…” Twilight took a glance to the side, but it couldn’t have been for a clock. This library aisle had no clocks. And then her sights settled upon a spot outside of Lyra’s periphery. “Now.”

Taken aback, Lyra turned to where Twilight was staring.

As if by magic, the figure wearing the PHL’s colours had materialised before their table. Yet the remarkable discretion, practically noiseless, by which she’d shown up was no feat of sorcery. Lyra knew this mare, and she’d long been at home in libraries as Twilight was. Seen up close, it was plain she looked a little older than Lyra remembered, a little gaunter, the violet-and-amaranth of her mane fading.

However, there was resolve in her purple eyes, amplified by the careworn, square pair of glasses.

The bespectacled mare’s lips curved. “Hello, Lyra Heartstrings.”

Lyra stood up slowly.

“Moondancer…”

“Are you surprised?” Moondancer smiled. “You saw me come through the gateway. Same as Cadance and Amethyst. And Spike.”

“But…” Lyra stuttered. “Wh-what’s going on here? I thought your… thing, was with… Twilight.”

Moondancer laughed softly, even while Twilight looked ashamed. “You’re Lyra, alright,” she said. “Always so humble. You never did get why people made such a big deal out of you. May I sit?”

“Um… Sure…”

Already standing, Lyra moved back, offering Moondancer her seat. Moondancer, after looking momentarily bemused, accepted it graciously. She sat down, yet though facing Twilight, she kept her eyes on both of them.

“Didn’t Twilight tell you?” Moondancer said. Her smile had gone small, yet remained. “I moved past that grudge a long time ago. We had greater concerns to deal with. It was… hard times.” She blew through her lips, softly. “Yet if any good came of them, it’s that it brought us closer.”

“Even with one of your friends fighting on the other side of a war?” Twilight said in a tiny voice.

“Twilight,” Moondancer said, very seriously. “We talked about this. I fought alongside you against the Dark King. I was at the forefront of Lyra’s diplomatic relations with Earth. Some things, terrible as they are, will strengthen friendship like no other.”

“Wait…” said Lyra. “You fought in the Crystal War?”

“I did. My older sister, Morning, she was the Guard in the family, but…” Moondancer sighed. “Six months of hell. Six months doesn’t sound like a lot. But those six months took so much from us. A few merely suffered earlier than the rest.”

There Lyra saw the look in Moondancer’s eyes she could see in Alex’s face. And not only Alex, but Cadenza, Amethyst, anyone who’d crossed through the Crystal Mirror. All, and this included Miss Bjorgman, betrayed a hint of that look.

Seemingly at random, Moondancer picked a book from the table.

Treatise On Ponies,” she read. “Heh, nice one, Twilight. You get around yet to teaching me Hayscartes’ method here?”

“No…” said Twilight. “I… didn’t know how to break this, but… I tried mending fences with… you. Lyra was there. It… didn’t work out so well.”

“Ah,” said Moondancer, replacing the book. “To be honest, that’s what I thought.” She let the pause hang. “Lyra. About this Expedition of yours. It may not surprise you, but, I’m the one who reminded Twilight about Secratariat’s Comet, if she’s mentioned that already.”

“Um, yeah,” mumbled Lyra. “She kind of did.”

“Were this a few years later, I’m sure I… that is, the other-I, would happily join you,” said Moondancer. “It was madness, going to war. But believe it or not, it brought me out of my shell. You don’t want to wait for something like that to happen. Especially now that it might...”

“What am I supposed to do?” Twilight said, before Lyra could talk. “I tried, and f-failed, because I can still be so bad at friendship. I invited you to come meet my Ponyville friends over dinner. I hadn’t realised, until it got spelt out, that it’d hurt you to see I’d made new friends.”

Sighing, Moondancer removed her glasses. “You’ve got to keep trying,” she said, wiping her glasses pensively. “Aren’t you leaving for Saddle Mareabia soon? Hm. Well, who’s going to be looking after Golden Oaks Library, then?”

“You know ab– Wait…” Twilight goggled at her. “You think… Would that work?”

“Allow me to let you in on something, Twilight,” Moondancer said wryly, as she put her glasses back on. “Sometimes, I feel that so much about both of us could’ve been different, if we’d walked in the other’s horseshoes. You have an older brother in the Guard. I had an older sister in the Guard. And I might have become a librarian, if I hadn’t held myself back for far too long…”

Here, Lyra saw how she could chime in. “It’s true, Twi’,” she said, marvelling. “And maybe… maybe that’s what’d help… y’know, Moondancer. Doing more of what you did. In Ponyville.”

Moondancer chuckled. “On the ball as always, Lyra. And, oh, don’t you worry, Twilight. I doubt I’ll ever be replacing you as Bearer of Magic.”

“But you don’t have to be a Bearer,” reflected Lyra, considering herself, “to be a friend…”

“Yes…”

After she’d seated herself, Moondancer had kept her focus evenly distributed, made sure to keep Twilight and Lyra each within her sights. With that last word, as she drew it out, her gaze rested solely upon Lyra.

The resolve in it had become coupled with something harder to name. Melancholy, perhaps, or regret for things that cannot be said, cannot be made right again.

She got up.

“I’m sorry. I cannot stay,” said Moondancer, averting her gaze. “Lyra, I… wish you luck on your Expedition. I hope so dearly that it’ll turn out better than the last time you boarded a ship… Give my greetings to old Headmaster Nexus.”

Maybe Moondancer simply forgot to also speak farewell to Twilight, or maybe she’d reasoned they’d still get a chance to see each other in the time they had. Whatever the rationale, the PHL’s Moondancer left them to their corner of the library, and did not turn back.

Shortly after, Lyra released her breath, rubbing her temple.

“Hey, are you alright, Lyra?” asked Twilight. Lyra shot her a glance, then shook her head.

“You… you saw what she was like there, right?” said Lyra. “She thinks I’m the Ambassador. You know what I’m saying, right?”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “I mean, I do, but… listen. Don’t let it weigh you down.” She let out a little sigh in turn. “I see now that she’s looking for the same thing I was with her. Am.”

“What’s that?”

“Closure,” Twilight said. “But Cadenza said to me that’s why she’s avoided seeing Shining. She knows she isn’t going to find it here.”

“I know, I know,” said Lyra, rubbing her forehead. “I really shouldn’t be worrying like this, but…”

Twilight tugged at her shoulder, beckoning her to sit herself down. So Lyra did, laying beside her on her pillow-fort. “Lyra. For you, it’ll be alright. I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”

“You do?”

“Well, if you put your mind to it. Half the time, all you needed to do was just, do that, you know. Besides… Ponyville got us prepared for this, right? Next to what’s going on over there, this is pretty tame adventure fare.”

That, if nothing else, brought a small grin to Lyra’s face.

“Didn’t think of it that way but, yeah… yeah, I guess it is.”

“Hey, if the six of us can bring an ancient alicorn back into the light,” said Twilight, playfully poking Lyra’s chest. “Then you can handle a few sea monsters, Lyra, trust me. You got the world behind you.”

~ Departure of The Kaikishoku ~ Day 1 of the Expedition ~ First Day of the Month of Gytrash ~

From the Hall’s pagoda gardens, Ana Bjorgman watched the three sky-turtles far below, as the Sun’s light gleamed off their metal carapaces, creating a beam that shone between the pillars, one of the very pillars she pressed a hand against, basking in the warmth, savouring the poetic imagery of the moment.

She closed her eyes and breathed the scent of flowers. Ana had stayed clothed this time, taking no chances. She had to be in uniform for later this evening, to respectfully see off Captain Reiner. The least she’d allowed herself was to keep her feet bare, caressed by the grass.

Frieda would come get her, when it was time.

Ana heard a little snicker. Turning, she found that behind her, Princess Luna stood, a gardener’s hat covering her ears.

“I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were…”

“You’ll see more of me,” Luna said kindly. “The war is not over. But it is my duty to nurture the realm of dreams, and yours have been troubled of late, An-na.”

“Pardon?”

“Sorry,” Luna coughed, embarassed. “Slip of the tongue.”

* * * * *

Outside the Kaikishoku, on the Hall’s boarding platform, Proxenos Darkhoof placed both hands around the shoulders of the young bull he wouldn’t see for ages.

Again.

“Go well,” he quietly told his son. “And make me proud.”

Basil nodded, his eyes shining with sadness, but also a little love. “You have my vow, Father. From the toils of this journey and the learnings at its end, I will attain the gnosis which eluded my grasp in the Labyrinth.”

“Aye,” said Darkhoof, “but when the time comes, just beware that your worldly pleasures do not get in its way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I doubt not that the Prince loves you,” Darkhoof said. “But he is one for whom loves shines twice as bright and half as long. You may think you understand and accept that now, yet no rational processing can prepare one for emotion’s rawnesses.”

“I know that well,” Basil said. “It’s why I must undertake this.”

“Basil,” Darkhoof said seriously. “It is not emotion itself that is to be rejected. Motion is life, and it is through our ability to feel, to perceive that we are alive.” He pinched his nose-ring. “But this is what a true Tauren initiate wears these for. Paradox though it seems, it is through our own discipline that we are not emotion’s slaves.”

His son gave him a thin smile, having heard this often, and then leaned forward to kiss his cheek, un-ringed snout brushing against Darkhoof’s own.

“I’ll seek to learn that,” Basil promised. “Give my love to Thymos. And to Unathi… To Mother.”

* * * * *

“Surprised they’re letting Prince Blueblood onboard,” General Skybeak commented. “Given his track record with the Kirin.”

Shining and the hippogriff had been watching from the stands as, on the platform before the newly-docked Kaikishoku, flagship of the three sky-turtles of the Expedition, Blueblood exchanged farewells with his two best friends, Awesome Fire and Shieldwall.

“I’d agree,” sighed Shining. “But, diplomatic immunity, right? My wife and I have had to grit our teeth every time I walk by a Changeling here, General.”

They both stared further up the stands, where the Mikado and his Prime Minister were observing the proceedings impassively.

“Still,” grunted Skybeak. “Look at them, sitting there. As if we didn’t know they were pulling deals on the side with the Storm King.” He shook his head and looked at Shining. “You were talking Changelings, Captain. Before we even talk about military preparations for this war on Earth, we ought to talk local. Security here at the Hall needs serious ramping up.”

“I expect you’re speaking from experience?” Shining said. “Princess Celestia told me, but I didn’t get the full picture of how you disappeared, all those years ago…”

“The Storm King’s getting clever, alright,” Skybeak said lowly. “Even hiring ponies, now… I remember it like it was yesterday. Two souls, at our gates, one night. One of my guards let them in to see Her Majesty– Stratus Skyranger, his name was. A unicorn, and an… Abyssinian. Yeah, it’d break Queen Saba’s heart, I know… Her Majesty didn’t quite trust ‘em, but she let ‘em stay the night. Well, surprise, that very night, the unicorn tried stealing Mount Aris’ magical pearl. Her Majesty caught her, but before you knew it, Storm Guards had appeared all ‘round the city. Good news is, they didn’t get the pearl. Yet the unicorn, she fought like a devil. Her Majesty had no choice but to ‘port us all out of there.”

While listening quietly, Shining had spared a glance below, as Professor Nexus formally transferred his ceremonial Archmage duties to Professor Inkwell. Not Raven Inkwell, Celestia’s personal secretary – but a similarly-named hero who, decades ago, had helped defend Canterlot from an invasion by Shadows.

An icon for these times.

Skybeak sighed. “Her Majesty made ‘em welcome, because her daughter, little Skystar, was so very young, so curious about the world… A world she’s never seen, and we’ve tried not to forget, but we’re scared will forget us…”

Shining looked at him. “Oh…” he said, picking a book from his saddlebags. “I believe Celestia remembered you.”

The hippogriff took the book in his talons.

Under The Sparkling Sea,” Skybeak read out, peering at the author’s name. “Written by…” He stopped and looked up. “Sunny Skies. So this is…”

“A pen name, that’s right,” smiled Shining. “She wrote this a year after you guys left. And another book for my kid brother, when he hatched.”

* * * * *

“Scrolls?”

“First thing in the case.”

“Ink and quill?”

“Wrapped and ready to go.”

“Element of Magic?”

“Spike, you know I can’t bring it.”

“Aw… just in case?”

Twilight brushed against Spike’s cheek, chuckling. “No, it’s in good hooves. The best, and you know it.”

Spike laughed, pushing her hoof away. “Pfft, fine, if you say so…”

“I do,” Twilight said, turning from him to all the others present of her little circle of friends from Ponyville, recently expanded to an honourary seventh member she’d known in Canterlot. “Say, Lyra? You pack my telescope?”

“Not in your suitcase, hopefully,” Lyra said jokingly. She glanced at the arched doorway leading out onto the landing platform, where the ceremony was dying down and Bonbon was patiently waiting for her, then back at them all. “Nah, it’s cool. Secratariat’s Comet, check. I’ll make sure to get you some nice photos.”

“Remember to dress up warmly, darling,” said Rarity. “Oh, and Spikey, too,” she added, ruffling Spike’s dorsal fins, making him purr. “You both need it where you’re going.”

“And Lyra, be sure to get Galatea her new chocolate cake,” grinned Pinkie. “It’s a surprise.”

Dash, holding Fluttershy close, was looking at Rarity and her own mass of luggage. “Hope you’re not packing heavy clothing. You won’t need to dress warm in Saddle Mareabia.”

“Just a few essentials, for the road,” said Rarity. “What about you, Dash? They dress heavily in the Royal Guard. How’s that coming along?”

“Um, it’s funny,” piped up Fluttershy. “My brother sometimes talks about joining the Guard.”

Dash rolled her eyes. “Harmony forbid. But it’s cool, Rares. Slow, but my Wonderbolts Academy time should put me on a fast-track.”

“Applejack?” Twilight began. “Listen… um, about the caretaker I mentioned…”

Applejack raised a forehoof. “Show her ’round the place, make sure she’s well fed, and keep an eye on her. Just don’t you worry ’bout it, Twi’, I got you. Well, her. Now you worry ’bout yerself first, ya hear me?”

A moment’s pause. Then Twilight crossed the distance between them, and pulled her best friend into a warm embrace.

“I will,” she whispered. “Just… I’ll miss you guys, so much.”

One by one, all seven of them joined in the embrace, with nothing more but soft sniffles and the cool mountain breeze to break the silence.

Yet, as she waved goodbye to all her closest friends, all that Twilight could think of was the slim hope that maybe, just maybe, Moondancer would be happy after all.

* * * * *

Discoveries in the Everfree Forest, tackles with foreign spies, presentations before the leading figures of the world and evening gatherings had all, collectively, contributed to a backlog in what Lyra Heartstrings considered her “normal” days. Those largely carefree days spent on her cryptozoological pursuits in Ponyville, laying down snares for creatures that never came, or hours on watch for figures so elusive, they were either invisible or non-existent. All of it punctuated by occasional busking with her lyre so Bonbon couldn’t claim she was the only breadwinner in the house.

Not that the money she’d earned ever sufficed for more than the odd book, or drawing material. Even knowing she could turn to her parents for additional allowance, Lyra had always wished for some form of self-reliance. But as a result, funding any project more ambitious than amateur excavations at the Castle of Two Sisters had remained a pipe dream.

Then, almost overnight, the evidence of one of her pet passions had quite literally dropped into her lap, and suddenly, approaching Princess Celestia to request public support for funds had become a formality.

Standing here on the lip of Mount Metazoa, Lyra suddenly longed for a time before all the fame. Her holdover from that time stood by her side, but soon, she’d be leaving even Bonbon behind. Her girlfriend gave her forehoof a squeeze, making Lyra swallow. Bonbon had accepted early on that there was no changing Lyra’s mind, yet now Lyra wished she’d argued harder. It was what her voice of reason should do, right? A few weeks’ physical exercise, ten times more than she’d practiced in a year since finishing school, weren’t going to equip her for the Unknown. And that was just counting what she could prepare for.

In Gallopoli, seeing the ships at the dockyards had given her a small thrill. Seeing them up-close, gliding in to dock at the Hall of Unity, made Lyra feel dwarfed.

The Kirin sky-turtles had been transformed. The old vessel exteriors were still there, of course, with the dragon-head figurehead poking out the bow and steering fins below the gunwales, but the scaled hull had been stripped and refitted with the flat, sealed plating seen on most Equestrian skyliners, plus the two tall masts that held the lightning-harvesters were gone. A network of steel scaffolding now encased most of the body, with galleries circling the vessel. Where the masts had been, there were now a series of low-lying funnels not dissimilar to what Lyra had heard were seen in Cloudsdale’s Rainbow Factory.

And then there were the slogans. Lyra had to blink a few times from the eye-straining, multi-coloured neons that blinked constantly as they spelt out the names of one Kirin corporation after another. Names such as Doteki Omocha, Denki Arashiporu, Senkofuku, and Ryuppon National Shipping, the last written entirely in the Common Tongue. There were neon signs on the hull, neon signs on the roof, even a big neon sign on the bow, placed under the figurehead.

At the very least, that last sign wasn’t for some big company, but instead showed the symbol of the Concordat, a white star within the petals of a sunflower; each petal blinking in sequence before the star lit up.

“Pretty, isn’t it,” remarked Bonbon, drawing Lyra’s eyes back to her. It was plain Bonbon sought to ease her nerves. But Lyra welcomed the thought.

“Yeah…” Lyra smiled awkwardly. “Bit… flashy, though. I hope they turn it off at night. Or, maybe they could not have it on all the time? I mean… I’m gonna be living in there for… for… I dunno how long…”

Bonbon frowned slightly. “Three months, wasn’t it?”

“Right, right,” said Lyra. “But, it could be longer than that. You know.”

“Well, I hope not,” sighed Bonbon. “You mightn’t realise it yet, Lyra, but we’re gonna need you back here, I know we are. Once you do your thing up there, you’ve gotta come back. Promise? You may’ve set this up, but this isn’t the end. Not by a long shot.”

And Bonbon kissed her, and passed Lyra her saddlebags. As they broke away, Alex, who had been conversing one last time with Sutra Cross, rolled up.

“Safe trip,” smiled the human, “John Connor.”

She smiled back at him, while Sutra Cross walked past her. “You know, I still don’t get it.”

“And maybe it’s best you don’t,” Alex said wryly. “Even so, Lyra… even if we don’t meet again, I hope you’ll come visit Earth, one day. I know a lot of people there would love to see you.”

“That’s kinda what I’m worried about,” Lyra said, although she did manage a chuckle. “Well, Alex, I… I dunno what else to tell you, except… good luck.”

“Thank you. That… that might be all you needed to say.”

With the last of her goodbyes said, Lyra turned and, taking a deep breath, followed her way up the ramp which led into the belly of the beast. Or so it felt at that moment. She was only glad that on this occasion, there’d been no big speeches required of her. Of those, she’d had her fill in the early days of answering the Concordia Maxima.

As her forehooves touched the boards, Lyra lightly blew at a loose strand of her mane, trying to keep her eyes straight ahead. Despite the ramp’s width, or the railings, she was currently feeling acutely aware of how little separated her from a sheer drop, should she stumble.

Pegacorn blood or no, the idea of freefall did not appeal…

She kept her pace steady. Here she was, the guiding figure on an expedition of learning. There were others behind her, bringing up the rear. Stumbling was not an option.

At the entrance to the Kaikishoku, an imposing yet utilitarian, rectangular frame within the gunplate metal belly of the ship, the Kirin first officer stood on wait.

“Madame Heartstrings,” Katashi greeted her in finely enunciated Modern Equish, giving the light bow customary to the Kirin. “In the name of the Blessed Mikado, this one bids you welcome aboard the Kaikishoku.”

Lyra stopped in her tracks, trying to draw herself high as she dared.

“Thank you, Commander,” she replied after a second, remembering the etiquette Cadance had taught her of these peculiar people. “This on– I mean, I give you my gratitude for your grace, by which you grant me entrance to and residence in your domain.”

The phrase sounded a trifle stilted to her ears, yet Cadance was formal on the topic, as it were. On first encounters if nowhere else, such verbiage was a requirement to opening relations with Kirin of standing.

“Your cabin has been provided for you on the third deck, Madame Heartstrings.” Katashi handed her a slip of paper. “You will find it under the designation 3C.1, for your convenience. This is your complimentary map and simplified schedule concerning meal times and deck access. This one wishes you a pleasant stay aboard the Kaikishoku.”

“Thanks,” Lyra replied, seeing Katashi already returning to perusing an itinerary chart.

Opening the sheet, Lyra quickly found it larger than she’d thought, folding out several times, until it took up most of her view. It didn’t take too long for her to find the entrance on the map, indicating she was on the sixth deck, and that on top of this, the ship truly was as massive as it had appeared on the outside.

Walking the narrow, metal-sheathed corridors, Lyra found the nearest stairs and climbed them, finding herself on a wider deck lined by wide, metal doors shut with wheeled locks. Each door was marked by a sign in the Common Tongue’s characters, placed over Ryupponese ones. All the map said about this deck – the fifth one, as she found out – was that it was ‘Cargo’. Another set of stairs later and she was on the fourth deck, which was functionally identical to the fifth.

The third deck was, thankfully, different. Wider than the sixth, but clearly built for something smaller than shipping crates. The first door Lyra came to also looked more similar to a Ryupponese sliding door, with a twist-handle added on. Stamped on it was a sign reading 3E.6. To its left was 3E.7.

“Right it is, then,” Lyra muttered to herself, checking the map for confirmation.

Turning right she began to trot down the corridor. She had yet to meet anyone, but there was plenty of noise – aside from the steam, and water rushing through the pipes overhead – to indicate there were in fact other beings aboard the ship.

Finally, Lyra came across the door marked 3C.1, her room. Using her telekinesis to turn the handle, Lyra repacked the map and opened the door.

Lyra’s cabin was reasonably large, the walls covered by wood and the floors made of tatami. There was a bed set into the right-hoof wall, but the materials were decorated to fit with the other aesthetics, and a rather moderately ornate lantern hung from the ceiling. A small door in the left-hoof wall opened onto a toilet and sink, but there was no bath or shower – Lyra had checked the map earlier, to find one of the rooms down the corridor was a shared bathroom.

Modest conditions, then.

Settling herself down on the bed, Lyra retrieved from her saddlebags a captioned photo, one that’d make the rounds of all the Equestrian papers tomorrow morning. Her science team, whom in a minute, she’d go join in the mess hall to continue making their acquaintance.

Left to right -
~ Pr. A.B. Ravenhoof, professional archeologist
~ Brumby Cloverpatch, freelance archeologist
~ Pr. Noctus Shriek, mythologist and mycologist
~ Prince Astron Blueblood, cartographer
~ Lyra Heartstrings, cryptozoologist
~ Pr. Spell Nexus, arcane physicist
~ Princess Ember, cultural attaché
~ Dr. Emerald Vine, botanist
~ Dr. Sutra Cross, xenobiologist
~ Dr. Shale Pie, geologist
~ Dr. Yugame Kazumi, linguist

Lyra grinned at the penultimate name on the list.

Look at that, Galatea had actually managed to block the shot so half her face was hidden behind Sutra, and her cutie mark wouldn’t show.

* * * * *

The Kaikishoku had yet to pull away. But it would soon.

And when it did, the airship would be taking Ember away from here. Away from the Hall of Unity, where she’d hoped that she might leave her mark, a dragon taking her steps towards leadership. Yet although she still held the Bloodstone Sceptre clutched in one claw, the Dragon Princess, sitting cross-legged upon the plated carapace that was the roof of the main sky-turtle, felt she’d come no closer in three weeks to becoming its true owner.

Her moment in the spotlight had been as the first signatory of this new Concordat. A not insignificant gesture for a dragon, to pledge themselves to a shared purpose and a greater whole – the last such pledge went back hundreds of years ago, between Dragon Lord Scintilla and Ulysses, Prince of the Yaks. One people, she noted, who had not showed up for the Convocation. She didn’t feel too surprised by this, though. It may be just as well. Where a dragon might smash when provoked, she’d heard yaks loved to smash whether happy or sad.

Mind wandering, Ember asked herself what a human might do. Obviously, she had witnessed the honour duel between Pharynx and the human soldier, Alexander, and seen the latter win. A praiseworthy feat, considering how tough she’d found Pharynx.

Still, this was only one sample of humanity she’d seen. Now that she was finally here, gazing upon blue skies towards the North, Ember began to regret she hadn’t taken a closer interest in humans when she’d had the chance.

This whole business of a war across the gulf of time and space, brought upon by an alternate Equestria, was indeed surreal to her, stranger than any magic on this world, despite hearing the truth of it from the mouth of the Chaoskämpfer, currently stashed safely in her cabin. But she did not find it unbelievable.

With their sanctimony, ponies imposing their values upon others is plausible enough…

Ember sighed to herself. Upon her crossed legs, she’d lain her guitar, stolen from a child on a caravan across the Bone Dry Desert, although for some reason, she didn’t want to think about this too hard. Anymore than she really wanted to fill her mind with such thoughts about ponies. After all, she’d be spending an expedition with them. Yet even her brief contemplation about Pharynx made it impossible not to think of something else, when she looked at the guitar.

Had Pharynx been telling the truth? She’d thought Thorax might at least come out to see the Expedition as it departed. Alike though all Changelings looked, she felt sure she could have recognised him undisguised, with those puppy-dog eyes of his. Perhaps Thorax had come to see, but behaving like a typical Changeling, he’d not come as himself, and so she could never have found him amidst the crowd.

Well. So much for him, then. At a slow pace, having switched the Sceptre for the guitar, Ember began plucking its strings, eyes closed as she let her mind get lost in the melody, until she was uninterrupted from an unexpected place.

“Pretty music, Miss,” said a voice close by.

Ember’s eyes went open. As she had been playing, the sky-turtle’s carapace had been accosted. By a smaller vessel, a sky-boat in fact, comprising a silver balloon attached to a wooden gondola.

Small enough for her to see the aeronaut at the wheel, exposed to the air. They were a pony, but had no wings or even a horn, though it was possible these were hidden under their attire, as the pilot wore a heavy coat and a top hat adorned by goggles, covering bronze, perhaps sunburnt male features. For a pony, they looked positively rugged. A long mane blonde as strawberry, flowing in the wind, was complemented by wispy hairs on their chin.

“Who are you?” Ember asked, surprised and a little annoyed. She’d expected to be alone up here.

The aerounat doffed his top hat, smiling. “Brumby Cloverpatch, of Alto Terre. At ya service, Miss. And this lady here,” he added, tapping delicately upon the boards of his sky-boat, “is the Reflector, steadfast companion on many an adventure.”

“Adventure, you said?” Ember repeated, feeling a frown coming on. “Then you’re what ponies would call… an adventurer?”

“Well, that ain’t the professional title,” Brumby said modestly. “But, aye, that’s what folks call it.”

Ember felt the frown only deepen. In the typically limited interactions of dragons with ponies, none was either so familiar amongst her kind, nor so notorious, as an adventurer.

What made ponies the most wretched little creatures, her father had said, was when they fancied themselves brave. Because then they either got it into their heads to filch from a treasure trove which a dragon may have preciously guarded for centuries, or more absurdly, challenge a mighty dragon head-on.

The old tale of the Fireproof Shield was particularly well-known to her family. Her own great-grandfather had taken part in that tussle with the pegasus warriors.

“You’re on this Expedition?” Ember said coolly. “I don’t remember us meeting.”

“Ah, right. Ya weren’t there,” Brumby wittered on, oblivious to her demeanour. “For the dinner at the Hall. You dragons are such reclusive types… Shame, ya missed out on a sweet couple o’ melodies by Madame Heartstrings. Mind ya…” he said, slowing slightly. “Can’t say I don’t know what it’s like, closing yourself off for a few years.”

She had a sense the polite thing would be to ask, but Ember didn’t want to encourage him. She wanted nothing more right now than peace and quiet.

“You don’t seem too bothered about talking to a dragon,” Ember said, fixing him a glare. “I thought ponies were scared of us.”

“Heh. A skittish lot, most ponies,” Brumby allowed, holding to one of the ropes that connected his gondola to the balloon. “But I happen to know a dragon myself, actually.”

“What?” This was too fantastical for Ember to believe. “Say that again.”

“I wondered if ya knew them,” Brumby smiled. “Knuckerbocker, he’s called. Ring any bells? Helped me on an adventure, once.”

Knuckerbocker. At first, Ember wanted to say she didn’t recognise the name. Ridiculous that any proper dragon would help out a pony adventurer.

Only, it turned out did know the name from somewhere. She had read it, one time, when a few overly-inquisitive Kirin courtiers in Kyorito had shoved some silly pony book onto her lap, enquiring if its portrayal was in any way accurate of dragons. She’d dismissed it as pure fiction, back at the time.

“Wait a sec…” Ember began. To her dismay, the aeronaut had caught her interest. “The Isles of Scaly– I thought only dragons can reach them, but in a book, it said a pony– that was you?”

Brumbly chuckled gently. “Nay, that be a different story… Though, a fine one too! Yer talkin’ there of Daring Do & The Eternal Flower, Miss. I ain’t had nought to do with questin’ for that pernicious plant… Although,” he noted, looking amused, “we got someone else aboard ya could ask ‘bout that. Emerald Vine, our botanist– her family was seekin’ the Eternal Flower for years, till her uncle got struck down by illness.”

Ember put her claw to her chin. She didn’t get half of what he said, but enough fitered through. “But… Daring Do, those are just books. Make-believe.”

“Some of it’s padded out for a good story,” Brumby shrugged, tugging at the ropes so his sky-boat would stay in place. “But plenty of them folks in ‘em is real people, names used with permission. Miss Yearling likes to do a lot of research. She’s thankin’ her consultants accordingly.”

The urge to shake her head was one Ember resisted. Ponies were truly something else. “When I’m Dragon Lord, I’m summoning this… Knuckerbocker. I’ve got a few questions for him.”

“He’ll come when he’s summoned, aye,” Brumby said, feeling inside his coat to pull out a shell. “He’s helpful like that. Mayhap not up North… Too cold n’ far. But any other time. Aye.”

Frankly, this was all sounding like a tall tale to Ember. Dragons knew a thing or two about those.

“So,” Ember said, eyeing him warily. “Who summoned you here, then?”

She meant it as a jab at him intruding on her privacy, but Brumby took her up on it.

“Well, lass,” Brumby said amiably, pocketing the shell, “when my old friend Professor Ravenhoof tells me there’s an expedition gettin’ put together for the far, far North, n’ said the likes of Noctus Shriek or cunnin ol’ Spell Nexus are goin’ to join the party… How could this explorer resist?” He paused, his eyes gone contemplative. “Even after findin’ what he spent so long lookin’ for.”

Ember wrinkled her brow. “What’s that mean?”

This time, Brumby actually took a moment to reply.

“Higher than my station, she is… ‘The Caring’, is what some folks call her, them Stonecarvers, mainly, and a good name it is… But, for too long, she thought I didn’t care for her. When it broke my heart to leave her… We’ve been makin’ up for it ever since, travelin’ the world. Only, duty calls, ‘n this was one trip she couldn’t be part of. I’d hate to be away from her longer than I must… My cloud countess.”

He went silent then, adjusting the goggles on his top hat.

“Beg pardon,” Brumby said next. “I’ve got to dock my boat inside the ship, afore they leave.”

“Of course,” Ember replied, relieved, stroking her guitar. His last few words, she’d found oddly troubling to hear. “That’s quite alright.”

“Glad we met,” said Brumby. “But if you don’t my sayin’, Miss Dragon… Ya got a look o’ someone waiting to be summoned yourself.”

Now Ember blinked in bewilderement. “Excuse me?” she said, finally feeling her temper leave. “I came here to be alone!”

Brumby nodded, unaffected by her outburst. “Tis’ just what I mean,” he answered patiently. “You’re here on a group expedition, but ya went off to be on your own. I think what yer hopin’ for is someone will notice, and ask where ya are.” He smiled softly. “Well. I noticed ya. Take care.”

And with that, the aeronaut pulled away his sky-boat, leaving Ember to a confused state of mind.

* * * * *

Up above, a crew of Kirin and ponies and other creatures busied themselves on finishing touches before departure. Those lucky enough to be assigned to the upper-decks eagerly awaited the magic moment when, upon leaving, the sky-turtle’s gleaming carapace would be lowered, and they’d be as onstage before an audience, greeted by the clamour of the receding crowd simply for being in the spotlight. Until then, there remained a last gasp, during which if someone had a change of heart and wished to jump ship, they still could have. That is, if it wouldn’t have undermined the image of the whole thing. And if most people onboard hadn’t signed on for this – or got signed on.

It was also the final chance Garble would get to drop off this damn letter.

Lying back in the steadily-swaying hammock, the young drake bit back frustration as, scratchily, he tried once again to set quill to parchment. He’d considered placing the parchment upon the floorboards so he could write lying down. But that’d provide too much risk of getting seen. Anyway, a dragon should never be caught kneeling.

Matter of fact, now was the only time he’d ever really got to himself, even in his hammock. There was no privacy here. Crew members were in constant rotation, six different shifts a day, and whether they came or went, all were quartered down here in one, low-ceilinged room. And the work was tiring, even if you were a dragon.

But that wasn’t why he hadn’t written yet. He just didn’t want them to know.

Maybe, had his neighbour been someone else, he’d have taken a deep breath and played tough. Problem was, not only were the Kirin and ponies who worked as sailors a bit hardier than most, the officers had cunningly picked out where he’d be sleeping. At the hammock to the far end. Which would suit him fine, if it hadn’t been next to a Minotaur. A blasted Minotaur. Not many creatures gave a dragon pause, but Minotaurs were one. Garble gritted his teeth. They knew what they were doing. They wanted to keep him in line.

He had to clear his mind. Eyes scrunching, Garble pinched his brow, then looked once more at the parchment, mockingly empty but for a few inkblots. With a heavy sigh, he let one foot slip over the edge of the hammock, dangling over the boards in a rhythmic sway. Yellowed toe-claws clicked against unvarnished wood. The musicality of the sound, but mostly the slouching, helped relax him, somewhat.

Determined, he began to write, drawing upon half-remembered spelling lessons in Common.

Hey Smol,

Been a wile hasnt it? probibly longer without Me arund, yur Bro noes you miss him.

Stil off with the Dragun Lords welp go see wat ponys are up to. Aparently it werent just us draguns that got messed with, But hey, least I got to fite sum roaches and I won. Almost cookd one that tryed to tackl Me but had to wressel one that turnd something Big. wouldve sqwashed it if there roach Qween hadnt got involvd and ruind it.

And then after that we got to see ponys at this Big mountinnhall. Kinda like the Dragon Lurds thron realy. it wasnt smal but wasnt Big, was like being in a caje. Idve recked it too but the blue welp she wouldve wine about it probibly. printsess Emburs shes just lucky the Kempfer told me Guard her or I wouldve beatn her tail by Now.

Anyway theres this other thing tha t happend with the ponys. Something happend, I dunno wat, but its got the welp on edge. But shes been lookin a lot at that thing the Kempfer gave her. Yu no, the can thing with His green Fyr in it. dunno if shes gonna smash it or stash it but hasnt realy done anything with it sofar.

Oh, I got that packige you sent. Youve no idea how hard I wanna beat from how boaring this has been espeshiuly now they got Me helping out on this airShip. something too do with an Xpedishiun. dunno the ponys arent making much sense, they got others helping but aint telling Me Nothin! Not even the welps saying much. I just no shes goin North an I got to go too, can u belive that! so cold up there. Ur packige is gonna help keep Me wurm Sis thanx

Hows things back in the DragunLands? Has Fizzel or Klump added anything to the Hoard or are they hangin back? Is Promminents getting any new ideas fro the Gauntlet? or is she still just hauling stuff from outSide? coz if she is, she cold get you one of thos prinsess things yu like.

Havent seen Razr yet but wen I do Ill let yu no. Hed probibly figure somethin outby now if he was Here an

There came a mild shake that threw off Garble’s concentration, punctuated by a steam-whistle from up above. If he had to guess, they were going to leave soon.

Oh, scorched rock,’ Garble thought, quickly refocusing on finishing his work.

sorry sounds like were gonna be leaven soon. Dont noe how long itll be But Ill beback. Kaempfer only noes wahts got the ponys and the welp so rattled. but He probabli noes what kinda beat Id get out of this.

Will rite back to you soon,
~ Gar-Bro

PS
Make shur the Eggs are hatching. An if they aint then tell Fizzle get onto it. If he aint listening, make him.

With a slight flourish, the drake finished his writing as best he could, before rising from the hammock and folding the letter. Once done, he tucked the letter under his shirt and hoped for the best. Departure or not, Garble wasn’t going to let anyone stop him from sending a message to his little sister.

Thankfully, despite his size, Garble managed to crawl his way through the bottom of the ship without anyone noticing or asking.

Or maybe they noticed, but it didn’t matter. Because Garble, upon reaching the loading bay, saw the bulging mailbag in the same placed he’d spotted it earlier, tucked by the primary ramp. A Kirin of the crew had already loaded it onto a trolley, but seemed busy talking to a pegasus in postal uniform.

Carefully, while their backs were turned, he snuck the letter into the bag.

Relieved, Garble slunk back towards the crew quarters below. He wondered what to do now. His next shift wasn’t for two hours, but he didn’t feel like returning to his hammock.

An opportunity seemed to present itself. Passing by the rows of hammocks, namely, Garble saw a group of crew members had gathered around a low wooden table. They looked like they were going to play a game, cards or dice, maybe. Amongst the Kirin and ponies, someone noticed him. A grey griffon gal. He recognised her. She had a yuckily cheery attitude. The gal dithered a bit, before offering him a tiny smile and an inviting gesture.

Naturally, Garble had the best thought to this.

No, thanks.’ That was his thought, as he marched on. Ponies were ponies. And the Kirin were so very weird-looking. ‘Are they ponies or are they dragons or what? Why have they got those branch-things sticking out their heads?

In all the ship, there was only one place he’d find some relaxation.

Within a few minutes, Garble’s blue-and-white shirt had been left on a hook, and his claws were turning a faucet in a series of faucets. Ordinarily, the crew showered at set hours, so this wasn’t a private place, yet nobody else would come here during launch, he felt sure of it. He tried not to flinch as the showerhead splashed his face.

Turning around, Garble also turned the faucet all the way up, aware he only had a few minutes. Wasting water was a punishable offence.

His back pressed to the tiled wall, Garble let himself slide to a sitting position, legs akimbo, feeling the water trickle unpleasantly down his fins. Through closed eyes, he told himself warm water was just like bathing in lava back home. But of course it wasn’t. Still, his mind went home. Only, now it no longer thought of Smolder. Now his mind went to other faces. Jolly, fat Clump and tall, dandy Fizzle. Long-haired Fume and long-faced Spear… Mottled Vex…

There it was. Prominence, so magnificent, with her sharp cheekbones and chunky legs. Nothing like that shrimp, Princess Ember… Although, Ember did have a nice set of horns, now the teenage drake thought about it… No, focus. He wouldn’t get many such moments alone.

It was going to be a long voyage.

~ Isle of Storms, The Frozen South ~

The Commander stood against the frigid winds.

Here, at the Southernmost reaches of Equus, it was a cold few could endure at length.

Nothing she wasn’t used to.

Feeling the chill throughout her armoured body, the Commander tightened her scarf, resuming her watch over the Isle’s expanse of machinery, toiling away without rest. She had her summons to answer, yet there was little harm in a few minutes’ silent introspection as she waited upon the balustrade that beheld all outside the throne room.

What was once a barren, rocky island had been converted into a mighty fortress, with walls blackened from coal, and cranes overhanging docks where sky-boats would ferry in supplies from the mainland, beside armoured airships fitted where they rested. Within its walls, creatures from all walks of life and all corners of Equus, from Ornithians to Diamond Dogs, worked away under the image of their master, his icy eyes and proud gaze overseeing them all upon banners hanging throughout.

He had his priorities in mind, and so did the Commander. When she’d arrived here, those many, many years ago, she’d set to work as best as she could.

The Storm Guards, hulking beasts that they were, could still be refined. And that she did, overseeing the drills which her tragically-fated predecessors had neglected. Right now, the Guards were marching lockstep across the cobbled streets, before the awestruck eyes of the factory and dock workers.

Truly, an army as fine as any. And then some.

Her brows furrowed, however, upon glimpsing the flashes of a camera operator, somewhere in the distance. How disappointing. She’d have thrown it into the crowd if she could.

The broken stump of her horn fizzled at that thought, prompting a quiet sigh. Perhaps another time. Her master, after all, had his commercial interests in mind, when it came to photographing his armies for intimidation and exposure.

Or, and this was his priority much of the time, merchandising.

What a waste…

She couldn’t say it, though. Best not to trigger another of his mood-swings.

Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, the unicorn wondered if she ought to have listened to old Rambler, on her long-ago trek for purpose. She had found no healing, no crystal-horn in Saddle Mareabia. Only the underworld, which led here. Where she still was, a decade-and-a-half later.

The double-doors creaked open behind her, automatically, granting her passage to her master’s throne room, relieving her of pondering more of this travesty. With a huff, the Commander turned around and crossed the doorway, into the great chamber housing the lord of these benighted lands.

Upon entrance, tall braziers ignited by her sides, illuminating her in the same dim, cold light which silhouetted the great warlord standing off to the side of the throne, peering through a reinforced window to behold his domain.

“Patience, my friend,” whispered her master, using an old language she understood a little of. Not to her, but the tall Staff held between his hands, caressing it with almost-loving affection. “Your time will come. Now…” He turned from the stained-glass window. “Ah, Commander!” he said, now in Common. “Took you long enough. I was beginning to think you might have left us in the lurch, hmm. So, what’s your update?”

The Commander waited for silence before she spoke. “We continue to have a confirmed location for the Hippogriff Queen and her advisor, Your Excellency.”

Her master showed no sign he’d heard her news. “Haven’t you forgotten something?”

Seeing him gesture, the Commander understood his meaning, and without reticence, she knelt to give him the respect he demanded.

“Yes… that’s better,” said the master. His face brightened. “Hmm. Say, how’d that track as ‘intensely intimidating’? I mean, marketing research from our Kirin friends says the new brand’s been testing out well– and if you can’t trust the market, who can you trust? But you know what, I need to back it up. And you know what I need for that?”

Suddenly, his attitude shifted again.

A storm!” the master shouted. “A real one, a huge one! Can’t keep dazzling the rabble with the same old flashes and bangs forever! With every year, I’m expanding outward, and this thing–” He banged the Staff on the floor, “–gets harder to charge! Sustainability, what’s that!?”

She merely stared at the floor and listened to his rant with emotionless fortitude. She had heard it all before. Just part of the price she paid for his gratitude, she supposed.

The Commander half-gazed upwards. “Yes, Your Excellency.”

Despite her bored tone, this seemed to placate him.

“So. Novo and Skybeak, still at the Hall of Unity, after all these weeks?” Her master smiled toothily. “Clever little birds in a cage… They got patience, I’ll give ‘em that. Surely it won’t be much longer till they head back home… And then we’ll see where they’ve hidden that treasure of theirs. Any signs of movement?”

The Commander gave a small cough. “Actually, that’s what I wished to tell you–”

“Bah,” he cut her off, his thoughts consuming him again. “Pearls, malachite, what good are those? It’s all a stop-gap. I won’t be happy catching those birds. No, thanks to you, my eye’s set on the main goal, those pegacorns– or whatever they call themselves now.”

As his words petered out, the Commander saw her chance.

“Well,” she said calmly. “It seems there are more alicorns than I knew of, when I left Equestria. If two more have made their appearance in the last few years, maybe one more shall follow?”

“But I need four, to truly power my Staff,” the master hissed impatiently, “Not two, not three, four! Otherwise, what am I holding here? A branch, a twig, what!?” He stomped the Staff’s base on the floor, twice, to conspicuous lack of effect. “Might as well ask the Kirin for some bonus– a couple extra lightning bolts would’ve come in handy for this blasted thing. Pah! Did I ever tell you how close, how close I came once before?”

He pinched two of his fingers in front of his brilliant, pale blue eyes.

“This close! I was this close to catching one alive! Sure, she hadn’t grown a horn, but... a real, live pegacorn, this, this close! If only that sorceress, that interloper hadn’t meddled… Twice…”

The Commander remained impassive while her master, knuckles covering his mouth, seethed over an old slight.

“There’s been a development,” she said. “Movement from the Hall. It’s as Grubber reported. Three Kirin sky-turtles departed in the early hours, headed due North. It’s the Kirin, sir… I thought this might interest you.”

She wasn’t wrong. He stopped gnawing his knuckles to look back her way. “The Kirin, you say… Where do they think they’re going?”

“Grubber didn't mention it, but what’s interesting is that it isn’t just the Kirin. It seems we’re looking here at ships packed with creatures from all over. All working together, and all heading the same way. An international expedition.”

The Storm King contemplated this shortly.

“An expedition… Can’t have Kirin poking around where they don’t belong,” he said, snapping his fingers and pointing at her. “Get me Grubber. Now. And you make the call. Just because I built the thing doesn’t mean I can ever get it to work. Blegh. Chemicals and tech I can handle– it’s that ruddy spell which always gets me.”

A brazier was kept in the centre of the throne room, specially prepared for such occasions.

Rising from her kneeling position, the Commander marched towards the brazier, retrieving a vial of glowing, blindingly blue liquid from her armour. She unstoppered it and poured its contents into the basin. Reacting with a fine powder kept at the bottom, dark blue flame instantly erupted, which soon morphed into an image of her spy at the Hall.

Grubber had stayed in wait on the stealth-ship like she’d ordered him to, but it looked as if he hadn’t quite been expecting this call. She saw him jump.

“Oh, hello, Tempetht!” the hedgehog said brightly, cleaning his paws. “Been wondering when you’d call. Want thome thpongecake? The big princeth took a thlice though, tho, not my fault thith time it’th not–”

“Grubber,” said the Commander coolly. “His Excellency wants an update.”

She reached for the brazier and turned it around, bringing their master in full view of the spy.

“Mathter, thir!” the hedgehog yelped. “I didn’t ecthpect–”

“Commander Tempest’s informed me about an expedition. Tell me, where is this expedition heading, Grubber?

By now, the Commander had moved to their master’s side, and she observed as her associate stammered out a few words.

“The Far North, mathter. All… all the way into the Unknown. ”

“What.”

He said this with a flatness so unlike him that, for the first time, the Commander felt a tinge of worry like none of his ranting or raving had caused her.

“The Unknown, is it…” he whispered. “Then why… didn’t you… tell us earlier?”

“B-but, you thaid you only wanted to hear ‘bout the hippog–”

Silence!

The Storm King slammed a fist on the brazier’s side, causing embers to scatter and the hedgehog to yelp. But, composing himself, the master hunched forward to peer at Grubber. The brazier’s light cast a colossal shadow creeping up the walls behind him.

“And that puts me at fault for your inability to improvise, does it?” he hissed. “You want to think very carefully on what you say next, grub-eater. Anything else you might’ve missed? What’s this expedition about?”

Grubber gulped.

“W-well,” the hedgehog began, “I, I d-dunno everything… Th-they don’t allow thtaff into the private c-conferenthe roomth… But… B-betht I can tell, they’re l-looking for thith plathe c-called… D-dream Valley, wath it?”

Their master’s eyes had turned into mean, thin slits, and he wasn’t saying a word.

“I… I th-think it’th got thomewut to do with thothe, at the Hall, thothe alien c-creatureth…”

“What did you just say?” the Storm King said suddenly. “What alien creatures?”

“Y-yeah, uh… Can’t pronounthe it, hoominth or humanth or thomething…”

The Commander felt a waft of hot, angry breath wash over her.

“Guard,” the Storm King spoke, dangerously low. A Storm Guard appeared behind Grubber, its hulking physique towering over the little hedgehog. “Strangle him.”

The hedgehog’s eyes shrunk to pinpricks.

“M-mathter-mathter, wait-GACK–”

His words were cut off as the brute reached for his neck, and tightened its grip. Grubber’s limbs were flailing around, his choked-up squeals growing weaker and weaker. The Commander tore her gaze away from the projected image.

“If I may, sir,” the Commander spoke aloud, frowning. The Storm King glanced at her – as did the Guard, and the hedgehog still in its clutch. “It’s thanks to him that we have the information you need, late as it was. And he may still be useful.”

He looked contemplative for a moment. With a scoff, he raised an arm. The Guard released its vice-like grip, dropping the hedgehog to the ground. The whimper Grubber let out gave the Commander some relief.

Then their master reached for his Staff, stomping it once more.

“Make do with what you’ve got, they say…” the Storm King grumbled. “Oh, fine, fine... We set out North at once, Commander. Take the fastest ships and get Grubber to rendez-vous with us… Hmm, at the Griffish Isles. Trottingham Lighthouse, let’s say. I feel the stealth-ship will be useful. No banners. If we hurry, we might just overtake them, those fools… They don’t know what they’re getting into...”

“As you wish… It won’t be a problem.”

“That is precisely what I wish.”

Abruptly, the Storm King’s face took on a cheerier demeanour, as he held aloft his Staff.

“Great! I’ve been pining for some action, dontcha know? Gonna badda-boom, baby, they got no idea what’s coming for ‘em…”

~ The Hall of Unity ~

“I’m afraid our calculations were correct,” said Amethyst. “Retaining its expansion rate of about two miles every day, the Barrier hasn’t stopped advancing. In accordance with the model we set up five years ago, it’ll hit Boston next week, on December 12th. But that thing’s been looming over the harbour for days now.”

In his hands, Alex turned the jar of jam over and over, digesting her words.

“Have we got an exit strategy?”

The question sounded feeble even to him.

“Exit strategy?” Amethyst laughed without humour. “Captain Reiner, the place we’re standing in right now’s the best exit strategy we got. And you’re about to leave it.”

“Yeah,” said Alex. “It’s amazing we’ve even got this. But… feels like it could be more, somehow.”

“That’s war. There’s never enough of anything. Except rubble.”

Amethyst looked up from her iPad. Her eyes darted left and right a moment, before she leaned in closer to his wheelchair.

“I don’t know if our new friends can pull a magic trick, Alex,” she whispered. “But they’d better find your locket soon, or we’ll be losing the Eastern Seaboard. President Kaine has issued the order that New York, Philadelphia and Washington DC are to be evacuated next.”

He nodded, grim, resigned.

“Take me there, Amethyst,” Alex uttered. “Roll my chair.”

There was a procession of honour awaiting them, leading to where in the Wachtower the Crystal Mirror was stored. It wasn’t what Alex personally would have wanted. But he understood it was what they needed. In the military, the parade ground’s ceremony, so divorced was it from the filth and fear of battle, had good reason for existing. On both sides of the corridor, a row of people in PHL dress uniform stood at attention. Each saluted in turn as they passed by.

When Amethyst brought him to the cusp of the Crystal Mirror, he allowed her to turn his wheelchair around, so as to face them, all twenty of them. And there, he initiated what he’d prepared himself for. His runes shone, blue and bright, and with calculated motion, he pushed himself up, to his feet.

It hurt. He hoped it didn’t show. He couldn’t let it.

So Alex made himself focus on the only thing he could. The people in front of him. Humans, mainly, but others too. Privately, he determined to commit their faces to memory. A middle-aged Asian man with a scar on his lip. A short, strawberry-blonde woman who looked Nordic. A she-griffon with dull grey plumage, but blazing eyes. A young African woman, her hand replaced by a prosthetic. A unicorn stallion, a Southerner by the look of him, whose horn was crystal.

And so on.

“I was just the messenger-boy,” Alex told them, simply. “The real work belongs to you now.”

~ San Francisco, USA ~ December 02nd, 2024 CE ~

Earth greeted him, a shock to the senses.

Alex’s first impression was the pain. How acute the toll on his legs felt, compared to Equus! He nearly collapsed on the spot.

What kept him standing was the feel of the air. Never could the air of either world be mistaken for the other. A delicate scent lay in the air of Equus, that tasted like the first lick of cake frost, or cool waters of an untouched forest pond, a place of slow-moving sweetness. Here on this world, even the cleanest air carried a faint tinge of the chemical, the industrial, the dust-laden, and this city had never had the cleanest air. He marvelled that neither Princess Luna nor Cadance had brought this up. Maybe it was politeness.

But this was the air of Earth.

A man in armour was waiting for him in the hangar of High Castle. Alex smiled wryly as he saw Stephan Bauer. His friend smiled back. Without a word, he approached – pushing what Alex had grandly discarded before witnesses on Equus, but still needed. A wheelchair.

He collapsed into it gratefully, his runes dimming.

“A message came in, from inside the Empire,” Stephan said, wasting no time. “The Blue Spy’s on her way back from Saddle Mareabia. She’s been there gathering a team for her rescue mission. Those plans you sent were a great help, Amerikaner. We might still put mud into their eye.”

Alex shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, I’m back.”

Author's Note:

Spectrum 2.1 - Autumn 2021

VoxAdam:

  • A chapter that was created from splitting the prior Chapter Twenty-Three (‘Here’s To You’) into two chapters.
  • Displacement of a scene; see above.
  • Addition of a set of scenes; a montage of the five Element Bearers in Ponyville going about their day as they prepare to head for the Hall and bid Twilight farewell before her departure to Saddle Mareabia.
  • Lyra’s own departure on the Expedition is slightly expanded upon.
  • Addition of a scene; Ember’s thoughts and feelings during departure.

Spectrum 2.0 - January 21st 2021

VoxAdam: Before you ask – no, King Sombra is not Princess Cadance’s father.

January 2021 was not planned to be the month which would see three pieces of Spectrum material published in as many weeks; a new chapter of The First Second of Eternity, a new tale of the ‘verse beginning with In Night’s Garden, both linked below by Sledge; and finally what you’ve just finished reading, unless you start by scrolling down to the authors notes.

In Sledge’s own notes below, speaking of scrolling down prematurely, he specifies he wasn’t as closely involved in this chapter as the last. Unfortunately he uses Ana and Luna’s very short moment together as an example of outsourcing to me, which makes me sound either negligent or corner-cutting. :derpytongue2: Which is funny, considering I’m traditionally pointed to as responsible for making these chapters so big.

Truth is, Sledge sells himself short. For a lot of Spectrum, I find myself acting mainly as an ideas’ guy and then relying on partnership to see those ideas take shape.

Also true is that Chapter Twenty-Three (‘Here’s To You’) was originally going to be published a lot more closely to Chapter Twenty-One (‘So Say We All’) and Chapter Twenty-Two (‘Unveiled’). For instance, the Storm King’s introduction was written back in February 2020. But then a variety of real-life and behind-the-scenes issues got in the way again, of which Sledge’s university is thankfully but a small part.

On occasion, I think it’s something of a miracle that I can still make time myself for Spectrum, even with external factors such as the COVID-19 lockdown theoretically giving me days with only so much else to focus on. This may be the last long chapter in a while. But it’ll regrettably be the last chapter, period, in a while again too, while we dabble away at the upcoming two-parter reimagining of ‘The Answer’. I’m sorry I haven’t different news to give those of you who were hoping for an increase in pace – that’s why I’m personally so thankful that January turned out to be a Spectrum all-around month.

… And if you were one of our readers who found the previous chapter nice and cosy… Oh, that is not this chapter, at least not for about half of it. Even while the war has yet to make its violent return to the forefront, this is a chapter full of regret, sorrow, frustration and lurking threat.

This chapter was also, even with all the typical hurdles, one of my favourites to write. :pinkiesmile:. A major component of this has to do with something you’ve probably noticed. No other chapter in Spectrum, an intended Ultimate Universe, has as much of a Continuity Cavalcade for the whole range – there’s another word for that, I’m sure there is – of the G4 MLP Expanded Universe. Some of these are just meant as loving references or winks to those fans who can recognise them, while others are designed to pay off within the story. I hope you’ll find it fun guessing which is which, about as fun as I found adding them in.

No doubt there are better things in life than ponies, but when you’ve been in restricted conditions throughout 2020, you catch up on all sorts of things. :raritywink:

And that’s why this chapter is dedicated to Jeremy Whitley, lead writer on the concept behind the “Season 10” comics from IDW, writer of Legends of Magic and Nightmare Knights, not to mention those comic stories which gave Tempest Shadow her poignant closure or made Blueblood into an actual rounded character, and the creator of Radiant Hope.

To him I’d say our work owes the last few threads which tied everything together.
~Vox

P.S.
Yep, in the end we timed the Storm King’s introduction to coincide with a real-world mood-swinging, marketing-obsessed public figure taking leave of office.

Sledge115: Hello there! Sorry for the long wait :twilightsheepish: and, well, here we are! This will be the last long chapter in a while. Promise.

I am not as closely involved with this chapter as I was in the previous one, or at least that’s how I feel (Yep, that Ana and Luna scene? Vox’s to write, for an example), but I did my part here alright :ajsmug:. Had a lot of fun writing for the Sisters, and all their banter and such. Unfortunately, university matters take precedence, so, for the most part, it’s been a very busy few weeks for me.

But don’t take the delay as sign that we’ve been laying silent, nay! Galatea’s story, The First Second of Eternity has been updated, yet again, and Luna’s own side story In Night’s Garden, showing her life and times, has been published, huzzah! Because best pony deserves it. Have a look, and enjoy :twilightsmile:

The matters of her family, naturally, remains an intriguing thread to follow. I can’t say much more than that, but, well… there are some things that aren’t quite what they seem, you see. At any case, well, just look at Radiant, and then young Luna! Family resemblance, I tell ya.

This chapter was a fun one, I admit, in tying all the plot threads together, before everyone goes their separate ways. An Ultimate Universe and Continuity Cavalcade, as the TV Tropes go. Just for a quick example, all the members of the Expedition’s Science Team? Most of them canon.

Another highlight of the chapter, personally, is writing the Changelings’ scene, with Vox. Such a precious little trio. It’s nice to see how their personalities bounce off one another, and as always, writing Aphid’s mostly mute dialogue is quite the fun challenge :twilightsheepish:

And, yep. The Storm King has come to play, and as he declares so proudly, they won’t know what hit ‘em. And as Vox said, well, we timed it good, alright, heh. Stay tuned.

Here’s to 2021, and cheers!
~Sledge

TheIdiot: Honestly, what can I say? Twenty-twenty was a terrible year for everyone involved. Yes, there were great things that happened here and there, but no, it was terrible from the start - Australia suffering the largest brush fire in modern history - to the personal, almost the entire state of California on fire at the same time. Beyond that, and COVID, there’s the fact that the previous semester wasn’t kind mid way through with my laptop throwing a fit and I almost hit an utter dead heat.

And while 2021, personally, started out with the first two days being mixed… nothing’s on fire thus far. Instead, we have a transition of power in America, two vaccinations to combat COVID, and a long road ahead for us all to recover, or continue on our lives. And that’s the most important.

Well, almost as important as getting this chapter done and over with for you all to read. And at that, dear reader, I hope you enjoy the work from us here on the Spectrum.

Thus, let’s make this year better. Because no matter how off it might get, it’s still not 2020.

Until next time,

Carpe diem, everyone.

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