Team Quantum

by Impossible Numbers

If Life Is A Teacher, Why Go To School?

Twilight finally reached the dome of the Canterlot College, and she stopped a few yards from the entrance to sigh. Under the glorious sunshine, the dome seemed as bright and as strangely unreal as the pleasure-domes of ancient conquerors. Hidden within was something greater than a sacred river, though. This was the heart of everything. Home of the universe’s secrets.

If she could crack them.

Instantly, she corrected herself: If WE could crack them. The plural was more urgent now. It wasn’t like the old days, when there’d been only her, Moondancer, Twinkleshine, and Minuette fiddling with charts and computers wherever they could get them. Now they had a designated building, a full team of unicorns, and more charts and computers than even she knew what to do with.

Twilight scanned her pass against the entrance lock. There was a click. The sliding doors whirred open as she approached.

At the main desk, Lyra Heartstrings was leaning against the counter and gesturing wildly with the other forelimb, while… Twilight wracked her brains… The other unicorn was sitting right there like the world’s grumpiest receptionist. What was the other one called?

Lyra grinned while she spoke. “And I said, ‘You call me out here just to play the lyre at you? Did you forget I was a physicist? Well, technically a harmonics scientist, but still. Ha! Talk about laugh!’ I played, though. Yeah, ‘cause it’s music, you know I can’t say no to that, but it’s still a shame what they miss out on when they just see me as The Funny Music One.”

“Morning, Lyra!” Twilight nodded at her, and then turned to the other unicorn and realized her tactical error in saying Lyra’s name. “Um,” she added, feeling it was too late. “Morning.”

“Amethyst Star,” muttered the other unicorn.

“Morning, Amethyst Star!” Drat! Wrong way to start! “Um. What’s the news?”

Amethyst contrived to scowl less grumpily and opened her mouth –

“Hold on, I’ve just remembered!” Twilight said in a rush of realization. “Moondancer! Has she reported in yet? I need to talk to her!”

“No,” said Amethyst coolly. “She hasn’t. Last I heard, she was stuck in her room again.”

“That’s right! The window convergence theory of inter-continuum travel! And no one’s heard anything since then?”

“This is Moondancer we’re talking about. What do you think?”

Twilight stared. Vaguely, she wondered what had gotten on her nerves all of a sudden, but then she figured Amethyst was just one of those ponies in a permanent state of pique. It always threw her off, though.

“Right…” she said uncertainly. Amethyst started saying something when Twilight made the decision. “Send someone over to talk to her. I know she works best alone, but I think it’s best we keep her in the loop.”

Amethyst’s scowl deepened. “I was just saying that.”

“Excellent! It’s wonderful to see you’re on top of it.” Twilight offered a smile that stayed offered for an uncomfortable few seconds. “Um. Good. Uh… I understand Twinkleshine and Minuette are testing the window detection device today. What else? Anything else?”

She wasn’t actually ignorant of the schedule. However, she had the distinct impression that it was bad form not to let others chip in.

Lyra stopped leaning and stood to attention. “Ma’am, yes ma’am! Both of them departed at oh eight hundred hours, ma’am! I saw them go, ma’am!”

“Lyra, please. You don’t have to call me ‘ma’am’.”

Vibrating with official pride, Lyra continued, “A junior should always attend to a senior, ma’am! Don’t want to let the side down, ma’am.”

“That’s fine,” said Twilight, rolling her eyes, “but we’re not military. ‘Twilight Sparkle’ will do just fine.”

She groaned; Lyra had winked at her. There was no stopping a mare with a wink like that. Sometimes, she wondered if Lyra had really grown up, or had just gotten bigger while staying exactly the same.

“Got company today, ma’am! Need to show them who the professionals are, ma’am! Overjoyed to be working with you, aaaaaaas always, ma’am!”

“Lyra, I just said –” A memory flicked on. “Wait. Company? Not…”

“From the Natural History Museum, ma’am Twilight Sparkle ma’am!” Lyra leaned forwards and whispered, as though imparting state secrets, “She’s a pegasus, ma’am.”

“What?”

“Yeah, caught me by surprise too. I was expecting an earth pony for this sort of work. Still,” she continued, far more brightly than was apparently possible judging from her already-bright demeanour, “I say it takes all sorts to make a world, and no mistake!”

Behind her, Amethyst grunted. It was impossible to tell whether that grunt meant grudging agreement or disgusted disbelief.

Twilight glanced about, but of the chairs in the lobby, none were occupied. “Where is she?”

“In the waiting room,” Amethyst said.

“But we don’t have a waiting room.”

“Oh, we do. Officially, it’s called the HEMB Private Quarters, but I figured you knew the unofficial name we actually use.”

Twilight scanned her face for any sign of scorn, but Amethyst had gone carefully blank. If they ever had a poker night, then Twilight knew better than to play against a face like that.

“Right,” she said. “Well, I suppose I ought to talk to her.”

“I’ll send her up, ma’am Twilight Sparkle ma’am!” said Lyra.

“Oh, good. I’ll be ready.”

“After all, you are the Head of the Team, ma’am!”

Twilight squirmed under the heat of Lyra’s excited grin. “It’s just a job. That’s all.” She coughed and backed away slightly. “Hopefully, she can help us out too.”

“If you say so,” said Amethyst.

“And Sweetie Belle’s waiting in your office!” Lyra said as though announcing an early birthday present.

Twilight groaned. Of course she was. Long ago, some of the team – she refused to name names, even in her head – had invited their friends round. And one of them – she forced herself not to glance at Lyra – had invited Rarity in, and wherever Rarity went, so Sweetie Belle would follow. Worse, Sweetie Belle was a lot like Lyra in many respects. For one thing, she had the sort of cheery helpfulness that could take an annoying little problem and turn it into a terrifying big one.

Forcing herself not to pinch her own muzzle in despair, Twilight said, “Who let her in this time?”

“She let herself in,” said Amethyst.

“What?”

“Had her own pass.”

“I didn’t authorize that!”

“Really,” said Amethyst.

“I didn’t! I’d have remembered! And I’d have disagreed with it!”

“But she’s no trouble at all,” said Lyra with an economy of truth, albeit an economy going through a recession. “I know she’s not… qualified, or anything, but fair’s fair, she’s enthusiastic! You always say that the heart is as important as the head to a true scientist!”

“Yes, but the emphasis was on ‘the head’.”

“I know you don’t approve of it, but just trust me. I’m good with kids. I can keep her safe in here,” said Lyra.

“You’ve been making passes without my permission!?” said Twilight.

Amethyst opened her mouth to reply –

“Yeah,” said Lyra, and briefly her bright countenance was eclipsed by dark doubt. “Don’t ask me to throw her out again. I like – She likes being around the place. Besides, you also said we needed to get more kids interested in science. Now we’ve got the perfect foal, and you want me to throw her out just like that? I can’t do it.”

There was a crash from upstairs.

No good: Twilight pinched her own muzzle in despair. “Tell me that wasn’t –”

“Sounds like it came from your office,” said Amethyst, so emotionlessly that Twilight could almost hear the syllables twang under the strain.

To Lyra, Twilight added, “We’ll discuss this later. If you’ll excuse me, I’m already running late.”

“Why’s that?” said Amethyst. Concern creased her face for a moment. “Not another window?”

“Pacifiers again. I’m OK,” she said quickly when they both opened their mouths. “There was a mess, though.”

“Where?” said Lyra.

“The cockatrice houses, this time.”

Both of them winced.

“No casualties?” said Amethyst.

“None. Except themselves: you know Pacifiers.”

“No one knows Pacifiers. For all we can tell, we might have been lucky so far.”

“Well, that’s hopefully what’ll get solved today. Excuse me. Sorry to have to hurry, but, you know, late and everything…”

Yet as she went through the next set of sliding doors, Twilight ducked to the side and pressed her back up against the wall. If she hid in a certain alcove and cocked her ear close to the ventilation duct, and if she didn’t mind a little tinny echo, she could hear into the entrance lobby.

It was important to know what the others were thinking. It wasn’t like the old days, when she didn’t realize how she’d come across to them…

She heard Lyra say, “You think she’s OK?”

And then she heard Amethyst say, “I’m sure the Head of the Equiverse project can take care of herself.”

“You don’t have to be so cold all the time.”

“‘Professional’, Lyra. Not ‘cold’.”

A pause. “So… do you think I shouldn’t have given Dinky a pass too?”

Twilight groaned quietly.

“The fact is that it was done.” Paper shuffled, and then Amethyst went on, “By the way, you’re still on for Dinky’s birthday party?”

“Ha! Look who you’re talking to. Just tell me you sent everyone – and I mean everyone – an invitation.”

Another pause. “Sometimes, I wonder if it’d be worth quitting this project.”

“Amethyst! No! Not this again!”

“It’d solve one problem, at least. The glory doesn’t interest me, and there are only so many ways crystallography and geology can feature in this research.”

“You’re important to the project and you know it! You’re… You’re interdisciplined!”

“That’s ‘interdisciplinary’. I’m hardly the only crystal expert in the city, am I? All right, all right, don’t jump up and down like that; you’ll make me giddy. It was only a thought. I mean, there’s always the chance Twilight steps down.”

Twilight’s jaw tightened.

Sullenly, Lyra’s voice responded, “Come on, Ammy. You’re not still sore about that University Challenge thing, are you? You came second. Second’s good. Leave Twilight alone.”

After a while, Amethyst responded, “So how about that weather? Pretty sunny, huh?”

Both Twilight and Lyra growled before the former slipped out and headed upstairs. She’d heard enough. More than enough. Too much.

Anyway, she was already running late.

---

Upstairs, Twilight approached her office door as an experienced zookeeper might approach a tiger cage. Another heavy crash came from inside, followed by a squeaky little voice saying: “Oopsy. Um. So much for that idea.”

Do it quickly. Do it with the minimum of fuss. And just do it.

Twilight’s horn surged with energy. Gingerly, she twisted the doorknob. Then she threw herself inside.

Her desk was buried under a thick layer of books the size of bricks. Sweetie Belle had tipped the entire shelf over: an impressive feat, considering the shelf was built like a timber fortress. And bolted down.

Sitting on top of the shelf and hunched up tightly was a guilty little filly with curls, the picture of deceptive innocence. Like arsenic powder disguised as sugar.

Twilight rubbed her face irritably. “Sweetie Belle…”

“I only wanted to get to the highest books,” said the squeaky little voice on cue. “Um. There was a book that wasn’t pushed in all the way.”

Count to three, just like Rarity said. One… Two… Three… Nope, still don’t feel better.

“It’s… OK,” Twilight said, and she had to fight to keep the horror out of her voice. “I was meaning to reorganize those books, anyway.”

At least Twilight was better equipped to deal with large-scale messes; a few sizzling spells later, the books and the shelf were back in their rightful places. Twilight glumly noted the smashed mug and cracked pens on the desk.

“S-Sorry,” said Sweetie Belle, who hopped onto the edge of the desk like a cat looking to rest. “I wanted to help.”

Hoo boy, how do I put this? “Can’t they use your help at magic school?”

“The teacher says I’m a special student.”

I’ll bet he does. Instantly feeling the guilt cuff her round the head, Twilight added, “Maybe so, but you shouldn’t neglect your studies like this. The city isn’t as relaxed about education as the country. You can call him by his proper name, you know.”

Sweetie Belle pouted. “He doesn’t care. No one at school cares. It’s so boring.”

“Education is important. By rights, I should call them up and let them know where you are –”

“No!” Sweetie Belle leaped forwards to block her way, as if Twilight were about to crawl over the desk to make that call. “Don’t! I’m not going back!”

“You’ll have to. The holidays have been and gone. I know you like it here –”

“Everyone’s so nice,” moaned Sweetie Belle. “And anyway, it’s… it’s proper magic here. Not like the stuff we learn at school. Look what I can do!”

The tiny horn lit up. Experience forced Twilight to duck; several books shot off the shelves and circled Sweetie Belle’s head. Yet the little face was reddening fast as though on a cooker. The books sagged. Then the lot fell with a clatter and Sweetie Belle released a breath and panted hard.

“I’m… getting better… faster… here,” she said amid all the panting.

Twilight had to concede that this was true; before the visits to the dome had started, Sweetie Belle had barely managed to make an aura glow along her horn. Every time someone had let her in to watch, though, she’d stared at the magic on display as though willing it to come over to her too. And Rarity had said she’d been practising more often at home. But…

“Don’t make me feel like the bad guy,” Twilight said with a sigh. “You know what’ll happen if anyone finds out.”

“You’re Twilight Sparkle,” said Sweetie Belle with a shrug. “Who’s going to stop you?”

Well, no one, thought Twilight treacherously. But they should.

“You can stay this one time,” she said in the end.

“And be your special assistant, right?”

It was uncanny. Any grown-up unicorn who’d asked that would’ve gotten a flat “no”, or at least they would’ve been politely declined. On the other hoof, it seemed monstrous to try the same approach on a foal. Sweetie Belle’s eyes sparkled with dreams.

Helpless, Twilight said, “I… suppose you could… hang around by me… just in case…” Where I can keep an eye on you.

“Okey dokey!”

Sweetie Belle hopped off the desk. Barely had Twilight dared to lean over and see what she was doing when Sweetie Belle hopped back on with a backpack in her mouth, which was promptly placed on the surface and rummaged through.

“I brought my own writing and stationary kit, to make sure. Look, I’ve got two hundred pieces of lined paper, and one of those fancy pen things Rarity says gives it some extra class.”

“Quill,” corrected Twilight, staring in fascinated horror.

“And I got one of those little retractor stepladder thingies, in case you need any books taken off the shelves.”

“Retractable stepladder – Sweetie Belle, what is this?”

“Also, I’ve done some reading, and it turns out there’s this Gooey Decimal System, but I couldn’t find a map. Do you have one somewhere? I searched all your drawers –”

Twilight hurriedly opened and closed each drawer in turn.

“– to see if I could find anything. Do you memorize all the subjects and things? Oh, and maybe one day I could redecorate. Rarity says there’s nothing wrong with making sure a room works, so long as it works. Though I don’t know what she meant by that, but I think it means you could do with having this place redecorated.”

Twilight slammed the last drawer shut. Minimalism had always been fine by her standards. She’d only conceded the potted spider plant in the corner because Minuette had meant well and was best not upset before working on heavy machinery.

Instead, she said, “No, thank you. I’m quite capable of managing myself.”

Deep in Sweetie Belle’s eyes, she saw the sparkling dream quiver with threatened tears. It could have just been her imagination, of course. That said, there was a definite droopiness to the filly’s ears.

Pony ears drooping: now that was usually the first sign of trouble. “But… I suppose you wouldn’t mind seeing me at work?”

The ears rose. “You mean, like… using magic?”

“Actually, I was about to interview a new job applicant.”

“Interview? You do interviews?”

Twilight chewed her lip. “Would you like a seat? Only it’s going to be tricky conducting this interview if… you’re in the way.”

“I won’t get in the way! I promise!”

“I meant physically in the way.”

Crawling backwards, Sweetie Belle dragged the backpack off the table. She disappeared with a thump, and before Twilight could ask if she was all right, her head popped back up again.

“Is there a job I could do?” she said, squeaking louder with hope.

“No, I’m sorry. This is for a biology position.”

Sweetie Belle’s brow wrinkled. “Biology?”

Twilight checked the clock over the door. “Please, I’m running late. Would you sit down and just watch?”

“And maybe ask a few questions too, right?”

Twilight ground her teeth together, torn between the exacting demands of the job and the prospect of Sweetie Belle sniffling because she, Twilight, had Not Been Good With Kids Again. “M-Maybe? Just, uh… follow my lead. Take the spare chair over there.”

Giggling, Sweetie Belle magically dragged the chair across. It would probably have been easier to pick up and carry.

“Why is it a biology post?” she said as she clambered onto the seat.

“Um…” said Twilight.

Twilight’s mind wandered back to the cockatrice house, to the sight of those stalked eyes staring at her with stupid malice, and to the sound of the laser blitz bursting all around her.

Pacifiers were harmless, she’d say that in their favour, but they were a complication. Ponies exploring the nature of the multiverse had focused on the physics and the cosmology of the places, as though they were really just extensions of the same dark, empty, lifeless universe one could easily see through a telescope at night.

When the first Pacifiers had fallen through the windows and into the middle of the grand hall, of course, everyone had been caught off guard. Many had screamed; the laser attacks looked convincing enough. Apart from anything else, the beasts had ruined a perfectly peaceful dinner. Even Twilight had frozen with fear, which was how she’d immediately learned of their pinpoint inaccuracy.

And then she’d tried levitating the laser blasters off them, and half of the beasts had exploded with an embarrassing pop.

If those dullards had been military, they’d have given “friendly fire” a whole new meaning. A crack suicide squad would’ve laughed at them.

That intelligent life might have existed out there: she was prepared to handle that. Unintelligent life was another matter. Regardless, they were technically of scientific value, even if they were pests first and foremost. Pests could still be studied. After all, entomologists spent most of their time figuring out how to save rice crops from weevils, or cotton orchards from leafhoppers.

No one on the team knew enough about animals to handle them. Everyone wondered if there were any more surprises on the way. Unspoken, but trembling behind many spoken voices, was one thought, and only Amethyst downstairs had been bold enough or cold enough to voice it:

There could be worse creatures waiting.

Therefore, they needed to invite a biology expert, in case they ended up as history.

She considered explaining all this to Sweetie Belle, but Twilight had a feeling the interview was going to be tricky enough. And she was still running late as it was.

“Why don’t you watch us and find out?” she said, trying not to sound brusque. Hopefully, that would be invitation enough for Sweetie Belle to keep silent.

---

Comments

[RTStephens]

Whoops! Somehow skipped this chapter and read the one after it first. That clears up why Sweetie Belle's there.

There's snarky Twilight! She's just too focused on being a good leader that she keeps it internal. Ah, and some insecurities too. Twilight's got quite the hooffull of characters to deal with.

[Antiquarian]

Loving this so far. Such a fun spin to the story.

[Emperor]

Oh look. It's Sweetie Dumb in her full glory

It's rare for me to see a characterisation of Lyra that I dislike. This doesn't break that trend. Lyra is such a goofball and lil shid that we all know and love and the way she and Amethyst Star play off one another is hilarious.