The Trinity of Moons: Mending Shards

by Cloud Ring

Chapter 35: Projecting

☳☳☳

The cat was the most worrying unknown for Storm. While they walked earlier, Solid Line managed to drop a few lines about her pet-slash-teacher, but much was still unclear. Once they entered the vault, Pink went on to work on stains left over by time and neglect. 'To cobble together a little something for the party' was, apparently, the secondary goal.

Storm settled on a couch in the sorting area, and Signal sat down next to her.

Storm tried to talk to the cat, and even received some meaningful answers back, but at first they were limited to "yes" or "no".

Longer series of sounds were beyond the suit's built-in translator, although it tried to find the meaning anyway.

After a few remarks, realizing that these attempts were unsuccessful and the translator was trying to guess by the context, Storm turned it off and made a convention with Signal about gestures that would mean "almost yes", "almost no" and "I don't know."

That made the conversation somewhat more efficient, especially since Signal did not wedge in its own questions: no, it does not sympathize with the Moons, except for Black Moon. No, it does not follow any of them, and prefers to be an independent agent.

Storm could check this with her own phase dampener, as the cat had no chance to know about it and adjust its answer. The dampener showed a weak alignment to the Black Moon. So Storm, for now, identified the companion as reserved but honest, and moved on to more important questions.

"Who is in charge of your pair?" The question was not rhetorical. Storm knew there were highly functional reimplants, although she had never seen them before. Before meeting Solid and her cat, that is. The cat chose both answers at the same time, and when the question was repeated, it settled on Solid. That was enough to get a rough idea of ​​the true answer.

“Is the current state of Solid Line threatening her? Is she sleeping like that? Is it a disease?" here the words had to be thread with caution.

The miniature yellow unicorn, although going where she was pushed or directed, was still not fully conscious. Cursory on the opposite couch was soundly asleep, as she should be in accordance to the cycle time. On the other hoof, Solid's open and empty gaze with pupils reacting only on the general brightness level began to bother Storm.

Still, she did not want to take any invasive measures before getting the picture. “Does not sleep. Result of damage but not a transmissible disease. Mostly harmless, the process of repairing," was what Storm wrote down on a small monochrome screen as a conclusion.

After going through several synonyms and specifying the time, at least Storm found out that she would not have to wait very long — slices rather than cycles.

"Why did you protect me from Pink's attack?", this one appeared beyond their abilities. A sixth signal was invented indicating that the question was too complicated, and even after many exhausting lists and suggestions, Storm could not find the exact reason from the answers beyond Signal considering her to be a temporary ally. It was not exactly reassuring.

Storm used to rely on communication with the center, on support from above, but she also knew how to act on her own. Moreover, scenarios of interaction with any of the six were developed and memorised; and they were not excluding the Red’s intervention.

Except that Pink... her physical strength was definitely not on her personal card. Something was wrong, still not too much beyond the basic scenario of ‘Pinkie Pie infected with the Red.’ After all, it was Pinkie who was always considered the most vulnerable — madness to madness, color to color, chaos to chaos.

When Pink returned, rolling a cart of soup, donuts and milk in front of her, Storm found no reason to refuse — according to all the main sensors, the shelter was sterile, and even Pink herself was almost colorless. Not in the ordinary sense, of course... and she had already taken off her helmet outdoors once...

Risky, but worth it, Storm decided, chewing on a donut — juicy, with six shades of sweetness, three of sourness, and with a hint of rancid in the aftertaste, but promising to fix everything if only Storm would give just one more chance to its fellow.

She did not forget to once again test the food on possible threats though — not only moonlight, but also biochemical based ones; the suit, albeit old, was still in the blue zone, and so all its readings were sufficiently reliable.

Except phase dampener. This device, now under much less stress, was still showing warnings of possible malfunction and needed to be tested at the station.

But this donut was the last one. Fortunately, the bitterness was gone soon. Milk was losing out to donuts by a crushing score, and its sweetness was metallic — but for this taste Storm was accustomed to.

Pink looked at her with eyes wide open, transparent blue lakes. As a foal, Storm loved to search and count them on a dark ball so far below. No mental influences, just waiting on approval whether everything was good and worthy of praise. So foalish and sincere, although from a certain point of view Pink was many times older than Storm, cubic nine of times at the very least. It was beyond any will not to thank her for the dinner, so Storm did thank indeed.

Then they gave some milk to Solid Line, still switched off, for which the jug with a long nose proved to be useful, and began a conversation.

That was, Pink began, “You have no destiny. Had you had it, I’d have known what to expect from you and make a gift. I don’t, so say what you want, then I will tell you what I want and we will do it. I mean, the miracle. I want to make a gift for a friend!”

Storm couldn't avoid smiling, it was a good start for sure. Still, she took her time, and her contralto was not even close to Pink’s high-pitch bordering on outright squeaky.

“This world is being washed out. Every time your alicorns are threatened, they hardly try to negotiate. The first resistance, the first victims among the ponies, and the Moons intervene with their cancel—”

Pink interrupted, “No cancel! These are sent to another continent. Kelpies, griffins, imugis... They are quite happy without ponies.”

Storm brushed it off, “Firstly, it’s not that important. In effect, they are torn away from their lives, and in the wake of each major banishment a lot of related objects, creatures, places go away too, one way or the other. Secondly, according to our observations, they are still banished from reality. Thirdly, even if you’re right, the problem remains. Lesser things remain, and the void creeps in.”

Pink said thoughtfully, “I can’t disagree. There are rumors — you won’t believe — that Green Moon will be the one to take diplomacy and sane trade-offs under Her wing as Her aspects.”

Storm narrowed her eyes.

“She's less than a rumor herself. Or do you know more, Ancient One? Your mark is not what Pinkie Pie should have. You yourself are not behaving the way you should. In some ways you are pretty similar but…”

Pink did not answer, just winked.

Storm continued, without dragging out a pause, “As we can see, each essential withdrawn by the Moons pulls others along with it, and the speed of destruction is increasing. We ask for a miracle; we ask you to create a star bridge leading to us. No rockets, no missiles. So that every creature who makes trouble with the Moons can simply leave for us. So that the Moons had no powers over the bridge. And so that we have enough space for every entity, concept or species, a ring around the planet. I know this is not too much for you, you have done miracles comparable. The damping Net, for example, or the Labyrinth Fountain... then, once the void finally breaks in, we will have something to build a new world out of. And hurry up, there is less time remaining than it seems. One more word from the Trinity may be enough for the reaping."

Pink hugged her and touched her nose to nose; only then did Storm realize that she had forgotten to close her helmet.

“I know,” said the pink one.

Storm asked quietly, “You know, but don’t agree? I heard that a miracle should be asked for in a direct and honest way, with a future joy in a pony’s heart, but nopony gets exactly what they ask for... and I have to add one more personal, maybe insulting, issue. You yourself are destroying the world. The way you knocked down the door. It shouldn't be, and it can't be. The rules themselves are deteriorating at the seams. It is the very sign of the void. So can you... just leave for now?”

Storm tensed, but the vault was still clear, and the weak alignment to the Red was only the direction of a possible channel of power, not the channel itself.

Pink shook her head, “No, that's not what you think. Maybe not only that. I promised that we’ll talk about it too, but actually you have to see it with your own eyes. Otherwise you will interrupt me and storm away.”

Pink got up and pulled Storm further into the shelter, “My wish is simpler. I want the Red to return to the common sky and take the aspects taken away from it.”

Reflexes kicked in. A jump to the side and back, away from the straight line of attack of the earth pony, ready to make another one if need be, pattern recalled, subconsciously selected from a combat spells library, raw magic to ‘inhale’ through the horn, filling the pattern and booting it up both as an instruction and as a device, aiming the shining horn on Pink. Here she managed to stop through sheer will without resolving the pattern into Pink; her training kept requiring the final stroke of the sequence.

Storm left the canvas shining, and the external magic continued to flow on the golden fire of the horn, burning in it with neither sound nor a pattern active — for now. She did turn her head slightly to the side, leaving possible spells without a target.

“Then we have no common way,” Storm hissed, “None of us do. Too much harm and too much pain caused by the Red. Plus, the Red is cheating. We've already cleaned out its cults. Ponies who were in the Red's trace firmly believe that everything it did was worth it. Every monster created by its light, every pony wounded by its rays, everypony who never returned from under open sky when there were no vaults and no Net yet… followers of the Red think everything was worth it and one old grudge makes it somehow justified. And if you serve Red, I will destroy your current body and send your soul away to scrap for a new one with no power to inhabit living ponies. Ancient or not. I have the means. I am trained and prepared to clear its abominations. I swore that I would not be its enemy, but I said nothing of the sort to its blind servants and bloodthirsty fanatics!”

Pink shook her head, and her face was sad, “I don’t serve anypony, even myself. I just listen to everypony and try to bring some joy. By inclusion, I do not serve neither the Red nor its evil. I can hear it, but this is completely different. Let me show you? Please.”

Storm paused, assessing the situation.

A direct conflict with the Ancient One was... still almost unacceptable. Said conflict, once breaking out, was robbing her city-state of the last chance. The arrival of the six — not one of them but all the Ancient Ones together — was happening once per three lives on average. This one was very likely the last one, as the world was about to fall outside the stability threshold.

What the Ancient One said, in meaning, was usually enough to discharge the most suitable array of spells either disabling or destructive purpose, log the event, call in the decontamination team and initiate demnesis protocol.

Unforgivable. Disgusting. And all the more unacceptable.

Still, there was a weak possibility that they misunderstood each other. That Pink's words had a completely different meaning. After all, this is Pinkie Pie, and nopony will ever understand her...

"I'm listening," Storm said grimly, her horn still a bit away from Pink, “Be laconic. And do not ask for leniency just because the Red was murdered. We have the story heard, thought over and judged. It does not justify the Red’s terror.”

Pink shook her head, “I said, I can’t. Do you really insist on it? I just can’t say it without me being shot down or you running away before I even go halfway through. There is hope, but you need to see it. Let's go in. Or don’t and let the ocean devour us. This is, I think, one of a few successful attempts to make contact with the Red, and it’s recorded, and this is why the vault is abandoned — the Red came in there in full force, in person, and nothing could be done to clear the lingering presence.”

Storm didn't give in, and Pink had to fetch the projector and crystals from the darkness of the far rooms of the vault. She never figured out how to turn on the device, and Storm did not help; they sulked at each other for a long time until the drama of the moment turned into irony; Pink giggled first, so Storm's pride was barely hurt.

Solid Line, once finally awake, was lost at first but managed to stay on board with the situation after more than a few questions; they covered Cursory, still sleeping, with a blanket, and placed Signal on top of it.

Then they gave Solid a little time to deal with the old and fragile equipment, and the three of them, with the quiet buzzing of the projector and golden glow of Storm’s protecting magic, settled down and started looking at a life to never pass again other than in a tech-based reflection.