Vacation to a Pleasant Country Retreat

by Sixes_And_Sevens

Engaging in Seances for Amusement and Social Gain

The Doctor stared at Fancy Pants. Fancy Pants stared at the Doctor. “So,” said the unicorn. “What do you say?”

The Time Lord shook his head. “I’m sorry, old friend, but I can’t. I won’t,” he said firmly. “There are no circumstances which will change my response.”

Fancy’s moustache drooped. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “Might I ask why?”

The Doctor stared incredulously. “Fancy, I don’t want to go to the canteen for coffee because I’ve drunk it before! You know as well as I do that it’s absolute manure.”

“Oh, come now, it isn’t that bad—”

“Yes, it is,” said Fleur, sweeping into the room briskly. “Which is why I had Sergeant Steady go make us all a cup of tea.”

“Ah, that’s more like it,” the Doctor said with a grin. “Nothing like a good cup of tea! Superheated infusion of free-radicals and tannin, just the thing … Did I tell you about the time a cuppa saved my life?”

Fancy Pants leaned forward in his chair. “No, I don’t believe so. Sounds terribly fascinating, though, I must say.”

“Anozzer time,” Fleur said briskly. “Now, Doctor, ze question is zis; will you come back to work here or not?”

Fancy blinked, mildly disapproving of the abruptness but unsurprised. The Doctor exhaled. “It’s not quite as simple as that,” he said.

Commander de Lis raised a perfect eyebrow. “Explain…”

The tan stallion shifted uncomfortably. “Well, you see…”

At that moment, the door opened and a pale grey unicorn mare trotted in, a tea tray clutched between her teeth. “Ah, Sergeant! Thank you very much,” Fancy said happily, accepting the service gladly. “I’ll be mother, shall I?”

The Doctor leaned forward in his chair. “Oh, let me,” he said, pulling the kettle toward him. “Sergeant Steady, was it?”

The mare simply nodded once. Fleur frowned, her forehead creasing in concern. “Fancee,” she said slowly. “When we get home, remind me to dry clean my uniform.”

Every couple has their own little pass-phrases and subtle cues, warning signs ranging from “Your fly is open” to “Say one more word about politics and you're on the couch.” When the couple in question happen to also be high-ranked paramilitary officials, the code necessarily takes on new connotations.

The stallion stopped suddenly in the middle of reaching for a teacup. Was ‘dry clean my uniform’ code for ‘review subjects for recruitment’ or ‘beware, there is an interloper’?

Sergeant Steady’s eyes narrowed. In the next instant, her hoof was swinging toward the back of Fleur’s head, but Fancy grabbed her before she could connect. Steady whipped her body down and away from the stallion who, with a cry of surprise and pain, went flying. Fleur grabbed the mare in her magic, but she simply pushed off the floor and out of the aura. The commander, dazed from the backlash, stumbled backward. The sergeant pulled something shiny out of her saddlebag and prepared to throw it, but Fancy leapt up and bodychecked her to the floor. The object went flying and landed on the table. It sprung up on a dozen little scuttling legs and spun to face the Doctor. The tan stallion flinched back, then grabbed the teakettle and tray. The little machine leapt. The tray swung. They connected, and the crab was flung back.

The Doctor popped the lid off of the kettle and flung the hot tea at Steady. It splashed in her eyes and ears and she flinched back, screaming silently. Fancy pushed her away from him and Fleur lifted the mare into the air.

The mustachioed stallion smiled. “Job well done, there,” he said proudly.

Then the robot leapt onto his back and he screamed. The Doctor lunged across the table and scooped the device up in the teakettle before it could do a thing. Fancy breathed out, a slow, ragged exhalation. “Yes… well… good job all of us, what?” he asked.

The little silver machine rattled angrily around the inside of the kettle, stabbing at the sleek metal walls of its prison. “Yes,” the Doctor agreed, his face darkening. “But this job is far from done, I’d say…”

---

Scootaloo raced along the streets of Ponyville, her wings beating furiously to propel the pegasus forward. “Sorry! ‘Scuse me! Comin’ through!” she shouted as she bounced along the rough dirt roads, followed closely by a series of dismayed exclamations and colorful colloquialisms. Finally, however, she skidded to a halt outside the Stick and Carrot, Ponyville’s premier (and only) bar.

The orange pegasus quickly pushed the doors open and ran inside. Startled, Berry Punch glanced up from the counter, where she was rinsing out stein glasses. “Whoa, whoa, where’s the fire?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “I may not be Pinkie Pie, but I know you won’t be twenty-one for another few years.”

“Hi, Berry. I’m actually here to see Minu— Romana. Is she in?”

The barkeeper's eyebrows rose and she nodded. “Yeah, she’s upstairs. Pinchy’s helping her build… something. Why, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know yet,” Scootaloo admitted. “But try to keep an eye out for ponies acting weird.”

Berry frowned. “We’re in a bar.”

“...Weirder than usual, then. And I think Rainbow Dash got hit by whatever it is.”

The wine-coated mare let out a low whistle. “Bit more than the average Tuesday, huh?”

“Like I said, I dunno. So, can I go up?”

“Yeah, sure.” Berry tossed a key over to the young mare. “Just… try not to make any loud noises, right? I’ve learned the hard way about interrupting any experiments up there.”

Scootaloo nodded and made for the door leading to the upstairs flat. Berry sighed and reached under the counter. When she pulled her hoof back out, there was a heavy plank of wood in it. She had a nasty feeling that she was going to need it for something worse than rowdy drunks…

Scootaloo hurried up the stairs to the flat that Berry had long shared with the town’s former dentist. When Colgate had been revealed to actually be a Time Lord, Berry had just shrugged and said that as long as Romana could put up her half of the rent and watch Ruby Pinch, she had no problems with her species or planet of origin. She soon learned that Time Lords made infuriating roommates, as they were constantly fiddling with machinery, wearing bizarre clothes, talking about far-distant times and places, and generally being impossibly arrogant. Ditzy and Berry had taken to meeting up every Sunday to drink and discuss their children and their Gallifreyan housemates.

Still, at least Ruby Pinch was never bored. She was the only pony in Scootaloo’s grade that was better at science than Dinky. She had become fascinated with Romana’s ability to build sonic disruptors out of radios and wind-up squirrels out of clockwork, and had become the Gallifreyan’s eager lab assistant. Apart, they were both serious, interesting scientists who did serious, interesting things. Together, they tended to loosen up a little. This tended to result in lots of very serious, but interesting, explosions. So, it was with some trepidation that Scootaloo knocked on the door at the top of the stairs.

There was a muffled shout and the sound of flying sparks, followed by near silence. “Come in,” somepony eventually shouted.

Scootaloo peered around the door and her eyes went wide. The ceiling had turned black and crispy with ash. The two mares at the kitchen table were sooty, their manes blown back in true mad scientist fashion. The elder one smiled gently at the pegasus in the doorway. “Sorry about the mess,” she said, only slightly apologetic as she wafted away clouds of smoke with her huge white hat.

“Uh, it’s cool,” Scootaloo said, trotting in slowly. “What were you trying to do?”

“We’re building a new K-9 unit!” Ruby Pinch proclaimed cheerfully. “I always wanted a dog.”

Romana coughed out a bit of smoke and looked at Scootaloo more closely. “So, what are you doing here?” she asked cheerfully. “Aliens invading Ponyville?”

Scootaloo’s mouth fell open. “How did you know?”

Romana’s smile fell like a bad souffle. The large hat slipped from her hooves, but Ruby caught it in her magic before it could hit the ground. “I was… joking. This body does that, I suppose. Wait, seriously?”

The orange pegasus pulled off her saddlebags and opened it. Romana and Ruby leaned closer to look inside. A little silver robot feebly waved its legs in the air. Scootaloo gently lifted it out so they could see the incriminating mark on its dorsal side.

“Well,” said Romana, plopping her enormous hat back on. “That’s definitely beyond anything this world’s level of technology. Do you think it can communicate?”

“It hasn’t yet,” Scootaloo replied.

Ruby’s brow furrowed. “Hold on,” she said, hopping off her chair and making for her bedroom.

Romana peered closely at the robot. Gently, she tapped its carapace, but it flinched away before she could touch it. “Interesting,” she murmured as Ruby rushed back to the table, holding what appeared to be a board game.

Scootaloo squinted. “What are we going to do, play chess with it?”

“This isn’t a chess set,” Ruby said, setting the box on the table and opening it up. “It’s a Ouija board.”

The pegasus blinked. “A Ouija board. Aren’t those a little…”

“Dangerous? A little, yeah,” Ruby admitted. “I tried it once. Long story. Didn’t work. Doesn’t matter. Here we go…”

She laid the board flat on the table and gently sat the robot on top. She leaned down close to it. “Can you read the board?”

The device rotated around slowly, then quickly scuttled over to YES.

Ruby grinned. Romana patted her on the back. “Cleverly done,” she said. “Quick and efficient. Well done, indeed.” The younger unicorn beamed.

“Okay…” Scootaloo said slowly. “What are you?”

The little crab tapped the letters R-D.

The orange pegasus’s mouth dropped. “Rainbow Dash?”

H-I S-Q-U-I-R-T.

Romana leaned over, frowning. “How did this happen?”

B-E-A-T-S M-E. I W-E-T T-O T-A-L-K T-O A S-T-A-L-L-I-O-N.

She paused. W-E-N-T. H-E D-I-D-N-T S-A-Y A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G. S-O-M-T-H-G L-A-N-D-E-D O-N M-E. W-H-E-N W-O-K-E U-P W-A-S L-I-K-E T-H-I-S.

She rested for a moment. Then, H-E-L-P.

“Of course,” Romana agreed. “Now, the question is, what sort of alien are you?”

No A-L-I-E-N.

“You’re in an alien body,” Romana said gently. “Or, well, a robot body. It’s quite interesting, really, some sort of uploading of consciousness into a theoretically immortal shell…”

G-R-E-A-T. H-O-W U-N-D-O

Romana shrugged. “No clue. Let me examine you, I’ll see what I can find out,” she replied.

There was a long pause. Then, grudgingly, Yes.

---

Civil sighed as he trotted on weary hooves to the next shop on the street. A bakery? Well, why not? The old stallion had to eat, didn’t he? He’d not been in the cinema, nor the local restaurant. Anyway, after the morning Civil had had, he certainly felt like having a nice cupcake. He pulled himself up to his full height. Yes. He would have a cupcake, and Daddy’s whereabouts be darned, er, danged. Proudly, he trotted into the shop and up to the counter. “Hello, there,” he said to the pink mare at the counter.

She stared at him for a moment, then gasped, leapt five feet in the air and dashed off.

Civil blinked in surprise. “Er,” he said.

“Oh, don’t mind her,” a male voice said from behind the counter. “It’s just Pinkie being— Civil!”

Civil turned his head and smiled. “Oh, hello, Carrot,” he said, inclining his head. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

The lanky yellow stallion glanced around. “Well… it is my bakery,” he said.

Civil coughed. “Yes, of course, of course. How’s business?”

Carrot waggled a hoof from side to side. “Not terrible, but, y’know, with two kids…”

“Oh, yes,” Civil agreed. “You just wait until they’re in college.” He shook his head. “So, who was that mare there?”

“Hm? Oh, that’s just Pinkie. She’s our top employee! She’s very, uh, enthusiastic.”

“About baking?”

“About everything. She also likes to make new friends and… well, never mind.” He chuckled. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“I see. Well, I’d like a cupcake, if you please. Chocolate, with…” he scanned the glass-covered counters for a long moment. “Espresso frosting and mini-marshmallows,” he decided firmly.

Carrot smiled as he grabbed the treat out of the display case. “Got a bit of a sweet tooth?”

“I’ve eaten plain oatmeal for breakfast every day for the past ten years. I can afford a little treat,” Civil said flatly.

The yellow stallion chuckled. “You won’t hear me argue. Anything else?”

“No—oo… yes, actually, I’m looking for Hyacinth’s father. He wandered off after lunch, and I’ve been sent to find him again.”

Carrot shook his head. “Sorry, haven’t seen him.”

“Ah, well. How much do I owe you?”

“Take it on the house,” Carrot replied. “Ten years of plain oatmeal? I consider this to be a public service.”

Civil grinned broadly. “Thanks. See you around, Carrot!”

“‘Bye,” the thin stallion replied, waving and smiling as he watched the other stallion leave. Still smiling, he turned and bumped straight into Pinkie Pie.

The smile dropped slightly. “Pinkie, remember what we talked about? Don’t run away from patrons?” Then he realized something very strange. Pinkie wasn’t smiling.

“Mr. Cake,” she said quietly. “My nose is twitchy and my throat is itchy and my left foreleg is wibbly and you need to take the twins and run.”

The lanky stallion’s brow knit. “What Pinkie sense is that?”

The pink pony shook her head. “I don’t know, but I know you need to run. And don’t tell Mrs. Cake.”

Carrot inhaled sharply. “You’re sure about this,”

Pinkie nodded. “Go. I’ll get Pound and Pumpkin,” she said. “I don’t like this Pinkie Sense, not one little bitty bit! Go to… to… I don’t know! Twilight’s castle, that should be a good hidey-hole. We’ll meet you there.”

He hesitated no longer. He ran out of the shop at a dead tilt. Carrot Cake was many things, but he was not stupid. He knew enough to wear a hard hat when Pinkie’s tail was twitchy.

Pinkie watched him go, a distant expression on her face. She had already sent Pound to Sweet Apple Acres and Pumpkin to Fluttershy’s cottage. They were old enough to get where they were going without her help. Hopefully, the thing her Pinkie Sense was detecting wouldn’t be able to get them all. As for her, well. A Pinkie had to do what a Pinkie had to do. She knew, somehow, that the whatever-it-was had already got Mrs. Cake. The Pinkie Sense had told her that much. So she had to keep Mrs. Cake in here.

There was a faint crashing sound from upstairs. Pinkie swallowed and planted her hooves firmly on the ground. And then the thing she had thought was a pie plate leapt up onto her back and stab#hY*89003&^th;;IOPARTYPARTYPARTYPARTbed her and then it fell off again. Pinkie blinked. She shook herself like a wet dog, her back suddenly aching like she’d gotten a flu shot to her spine. She had the sudden, unmistakable sense that something very important had just happened. She looked down at the little metal thing that had tried to jump her. It lay, twitching, on the ground. From upstairs, another crash.

The party pony glanced, indecisive, between the robot and the stairs. Ooh… she had locked all the windows and back doors already… Alright. She picked up the unmoving lump of metal with her mouth and made quickly for the door. As she reached the threshold, a great thumping sound came from the direction of the stairs. Pinkie glanced back for only a second. A rotund blue mare stood framed in the kitchen doorway, her eyes blank and her expression hard. In the next instant, Pinkie was on the other side of the door, slamming it closed and locking it up, her face twisted into an expression of pain. “Okie dokie,” she mumbled around the metal crab in her mouth. “Who can I take this to?” She sat in contemplation for a moment, then brightened. “Oh! Of course! Ditzy and the Doctor can help!” She hopped to her hooves and pronked off. From across the street, a yellow unicorn with staring eyes and blank expression watched her go. Watch this one, she told the hive, but do not approach.

MESSAGE RECEIVED.

---

Rarity stared at the collection of wires and machinery. “Well, I can’t make head nor tails of it,” she said. “Though I will say that the colors aren’t very well coordinated…”

Mac sighed. “We can’t rely on traditional wirin’ colors, neither,” he said. “Heck, Ah don’ even see any red wires."

Rarity brightened. “Ooh, that’s the one you’re always meant to cut in spy movies, yes? Or was it the blue one?”

Ditzy shrugged. “It’s only convention, anyway,” she said. “Actually, I’m pretty impressed that those little guys made something so complex with just their claws.”

“Hm,” said Mac. “Well, what if they didn’t make it?”

Rarity frowned. “Sorry, darling, I don’t follow.”

“These fellas are metal, too,” Mac said, “Metal don’t reproduce, ‘least not on its own.”

Ditzy frowned. “So you think there’s a third party? One who made the crabs and this base?”

“Eeyup.”

Rarity nodded thoughtfully. “Reasonable,” she agreed. “If, after all, you were on a walk across a heath and came upon a high-quality ball gown, you would not assume that it had arrived there of its own volition!”

Ditzy nodded, not looking away from the wiring in the wall. “That does seem to make sense,” she agreed. “But does that tell us anything new?”

“Well, it does highlight the gravity of the situation, somewhat,” Rarity said. “Likely, it means that this is a planned invasion.”

Mac blinked. “Say again?”

“This is a planned invasion?”

“Nope, b’fore that.”

Rarity hesitated. “It highlights the gravity—”

Mac stomped a hoof. “Gravity!” he exclaimed. “That’s what th’ trouble is!”

Ditzy glanced up from the wiring. “What do you—” she paused. “Do you two smell something funny?”

Rarity sniffed the air. Her eyes went wide. She spun around to see the hallway illuminated by an onrushing wall of flames. There was a flash of light—

Silence.

Comments

[Xanderfox]

Pinkie's mind it too strange to download, makes sense.

[jimerjam]

10002415
not download, transfer. There is a difference

[Prince Leviathan]

One does not simply enter and take over the mind of Pie.
It's a realm of it's own.