The Trinity of Moons: Mending Shards

by Cloud Ring

Chapter 63: Impugnment

☄☄☄

A suit felt more like a shell than clothing. Cursory Streak felt no need to enter it at first — after all, armor’s mass would only hinder her flight. Storm remarked, “Alien Moons, remember?”, and that was enough.

It turned out to be a rather comfortable and responsive shell — extremely responsive one. Cursory didn’t even feel like there was any armor, because for all the seeming clumsiness it followed every movement by itself, all but predicting it.

“It seems to read my mind. Should it?” Cursory asked.

Storm quickly shook her head, “No, tech can’t read your mind and does not mess with it! By the way, if there is an orange flash on any of the right-side indicators, relax.”

Cursory blinked, confused. Blacklight, also busy with a suit, and thus for a few beats distracted from her grief—

—“Plum Jam was the very first one Storm dragged into the sub! But then Plum said she needed to go outside. I checked for active magic just in case, as there technically are ways to circumvent the Prime Word, but it looks like Plum really did want to leave, and then new Moon, pink and fluffy one, took her, right before my eyes. I tried to catch Plum with my magic and pull her back to, I don't know, delay the ascend but—"

—giggled, "You know, their tech is something alright! Here, you will not believe it, the suit stores its own spell archive, and it is huge, and the search is even more intuitive than in my sector central library!”

Cursory took off, flew a circle over the submarine and the ocean, and was actually disappointed — wingfairings still did not interfere with movement on the inside and carried the subtle steering tilt of the feathers and bends of wings — but these attempts were decent at best. She could keep herself in the air, turn slowly, fly in a straight line, and that’s it. Metropolis was not visible from there, as She was not… before? Elseonce, as Storm had put it?

On return, Cursory cast a glance at Storm, and got an explanation, “If there’s another aftershock wave, we’ll most likely disappear. Or we will change — the new history will reshape us according to its own standards. Maybe Sunset will cover us, but I wouldn't rely on that — especially since Sunset got her own Moon-like glory."

"How do we protect ourselves?" Cursory tilted her head.

"We don’t. Please hurry up and work a miracle,” Storm said, “As they— you— have always done it. Or just say you can't and let's move on to a backup plan."

Cursory nodded but did not answer. She never had a chance to say goodbye to Metropolis, and whatever She became now, She was definitely not the same beloved city.

This thought alone made her wings ache. She wanted to rush towards this aftershock, whatever it was, hoping maybe it would somehow lead her home, or at least to somewhere that would feel like home. Where Gentle Touch is nearby, so Cursory could smell her quietude, feel their well deserved peace and listen to a quiet voice with ‘o’ too open and ‘r’ too muffled — an accent indicating how far from the central Metropolis Gentle Touch’s roots are—

She shook her head and smiled sadly. Visions so bright and inviting that a single step would suffice to get lost in them — these were the burden carried by approximately one out of three ponies who inhaled ‘Guiding Starfall-TX’, and they tended to become more frequent with the progress of age. Cursory inhaled it twice, so sooner or later it had to happen for the first time.

Too bad this first time happened right now, when it hurts the most.

And hurt it did. It was too hard to breathe, her heart was beating out of rhythm. Tears came and stopped, but they did not make the grief any easier to bear, and there was no Moon in the sky, and no napkin under the helmet. Blacklight looked at her — direct, open, from a customary distance. If you need me, I'm here; I see you, Blacklight did not say.

Sunset, still ghostly translucent in the salty wind, the only one without armor, approached them and stood opposite, closing the uneven rectangle with a side of roughly seven steps. To free her, they had to, like Plum did, let Sunset into their blood, and release it already on the surface; the ritual, mostly painless, went smoothly except leaving them all weakened; still, bouts of dizziness were somewhat manageable as they shared Sunset between all three of them. For that second time, contrary to Plum’s first attempt, it was not about proving the readiness to die for the purpose — simply to open the way for Sunset. By accident or on purpose, Black Moon never closed this loophole.

Other Moons didn’t either, Cursory thought.

She sighed, “I don’t want to give up, but… we really can’t do a thing. Even the miracle that we began to work, it was not the answer. It was a question. ‘Is this what I want, for sure?’, it asked me. We got out, and Sunset got out too, so it's a miracle that the old move worked. Is there any vault where we can wait and think it through without a hurry?”

“I still have a place where I can shelter you until the end of time,” Sunset suggested with not a grain but a full spoon of salt. Blacklight raised her hoof but said nothing, just shook her head.

Storm answered for her, “No, for both of you. We didn't have many shelters and surface bases in the first place. What was here elseonce in this story, had not even been built—”

“Was your place here not supposed to survive the… the thing?..” Cursory did not find words and pointed her hoof towards the sky.

Storm nodded, “It was supposed to. It would’ve. Had the switch-on of the shield not been deliberately blocked.”

Blacklight nodded as if she got what was said; Cursory made a note to herself to ask more on that later on.

Storm continued, “And we will not reach other vaults or bases in time, even those that remain. I can call for an evac shuttle — we, as an organization, have already gone through several shifts of history — but those who land are unlikely to be happy to see us. Dispassion was not the only Departed, just the first of the Departed. So if a miracle is impossible, just say so and I will move on to a backup plan.”

Sunset and Blacklight glanced at each other and stepped closer to Cursory together. Blacklight nodded, clearly unsure “Yes, I wouldn't want to fly or run anywhere either. I don’t want to get used to this world, you know? I have an intrusive thought that if we stay too long, we will become a part of all this, and then not even attempt to fix...”

Maybe we are already beyond repair, Cursory thought, and Storm replied, “It is more than just a thought. This is the case with operatives who have neglected protection. Then they cannot even be identified among moonburnt ponies, if they survive at all — which is a question by itself,” Storm shook her head and looked at them through the semi-reflecting glass of her faceplate, “I am distracted because I am scared. My backup plan is this: if everypony still chooses for themself and nopony can be deprived of a choice— it would be easier if we knew the exact words that the Moons uttered at the beginning of that first history when it appeared for the very first time. The Prime Word that states everypony should have a right to choose, one that eventually becomes ‘everypony chooses for themself’, how exactly did it sound? I can’t say directly how it would help, we might be observed and our conversation heard, but, please—”

She fell silent, and Blacklight intervened in a whisper, “Maybe that's why they left a loophole for Sunset.”

The one named turned around, frowning, “Maybe. Hmm..."

Cursory asked, "Are you bored with your freedom already?" Would it be better if we couldn't even swim out of the ocean?"

"Of course, not better, it would have to... Wait, are you making a joke at my expense?" Sunset snorted angrily. She waved her hoof in the direction of Cursory and after a beat stretched out into a plane of orange light, became a ray that outstretched inland.

Storm turned her head, sighed, "Well, another one gone—" but she did not even have time to finish, as Sunset returned from the ocean side; three beats had not passed yet.

“I must admit, I’m free now,” Sunset was clearly holding back her joy, keeping herself from prancing around, "Neither one of the two usurpers consider me an enemy. As Black Moon said. No more barriers for me!"

"Have you spoken with Black Moon?" Cursory's ears were up, "Why didn’t you tell us until now?! Maybe there is something important that we should know?"

“Oh, she didn't tell me either,” Storm's smile was strained, “She had enough time to tell me about the new history. She pushed it through my eyes and ears, scared me down in my suit, explained that everything is now ruined and it’s all my fault, and I should take full responsibility. Only then did she give anything actually useful. Priorities!"

Sunset was embarrassed, if only a little, but her reply was calm,

“Had the Moons truly betrayed me, like it happened the first time, I would treat you with something much stronger than guilt or fear. I was very annoyed anyway, and I will not take back a thing I said. Now that I have calmed down, I can say that it was not a betrayal, technically. But, you see, that was how I got to be sealed underwater for one more whole history..."

☀️☀️☀️

“In the new history, if we want to keep a glimmer of hope, we will have to contain the invader by any— I mean, by almost any cost. Except for those ways that suit Dispassion. We need aspects that are exactly the opposite of this monster. Pinkie Pie is an almost perfect counterbalance, but the situation will require a certain amount of brutality. This one — Gray one — will not be shy about means. Alone, Pinkie Pie will be doomed. I have known Purity long enough to say so.”

The world deprived of light seemed unmoving and unchanging, and yet there was almost no time left for a conversation with the Moon. Sunset was barely conscious after the strike of darkness sapped most of her strength; she fell into the ocean, and Black Moon was near, invisible, except for a dull green shine in the darkness — the brilliance of knowledge, comprehension, possibilities. There was no time to speak out loud, so Black Moon expressed Her opinion in three sigils, which contained both the conclusions and the chain of reasoning. That was what they carried over...

Sunset tried to portray them in front of her with a glow of dark blue magic, but Cursory immediately interrupted her "No, no, don't do that, speak with our usual words!"

“If you complete the synthesis with Red, that would be acceptable. Then the outcome will depend on the yet unknown result of your synthesis, and on whether there will be a conflict between your synthesis and Pinkie Pie. I cannot discern even the basic details of this future, but if you want, we can execute this option. At least the defeat isn’t inevitable in such a timeline, which is better than some other options.

“If you and/or the Red complete your Ascension, but without synthesis, that would not be acceptable. Possible outcomes: the Red attacks you, then loses to the monster; or it loses before an attack; or you lose to the monster, caught in the beat of lost vigilance and weakened by an unexpected strike. If Pinkie was somepony else and more experienced, she could make a gambit. Give you as a bait to the monster and seize the moment to attack while the monster is briefly busy with you. But Pinkie Pie will not do that.

“If you go for a three-way synthesis, that would also be unacceptable. Outcome: you immediately lose from either internal conflicts or lack of aspects necessary to fight the enemy, unless you have a few events to change your personality first. You will have no time to even make friends.”

Sunset smiled: in this part of Her thought, Black Moon not only omitted indication of who to be friends with; She emphasized the lack of such indication.

“If you go for synthesis with Pinkie, you will have to sacrifice two of your three aspects and make room for the necessary aspects of Pinkie. Your following of this option will please me, and you can get a much stronger position with it, although the Red can still get in your way. I understand how difficult it is to lose aspects, and, in this case, I sympathize with you in advance. It will be much worse than bodily wounds for mortals, but you can do it.

“And finally, if the Red goes to fuse with Pinkie, the chance of their success in containing the Gray is maximum. Unless you side with the monster, which you will not do. The Red will demand that the Trinity give up its influence on the world — more precisely, it will demand Our banishment. That is… acceptable. It is a price I am willing to pay, and as for the other Apexes, as you can see, there is no need to ask their permission.

“From the initial five, I have discarded two options. Please, make your choice out of the three remaining, Sunset Shimmer.”

Sunset tried to shake off her aspect of caution and foresight, jerk it aside. She could not. It was not the body that hurt, which she did not have anyway. Her essence ached; without this aspect, Sunset would not have been herself. The aspect of selfless caring for her own ponies, followed by the aspect of the one who saved drowned ones, also refused to leave.

She asked Black Moon to help with this; “No, it is inappropriate,” Black Moon replied, and that was also not a word but a sigil.

Then Sunset Shimmer made a choice and spoke it out loud; until the very end, plunging back into the dark depths of her own ocean, she never knew if the choice was her own or if Black Moon used what She knew about her to make Sunset Shimmer move like a token on the board.

💡💡💡

“So our Moons are gone?” Blacklight asked, not particularly addressing anypony. She did not like to go underground, even out of necessity, as the light of the Moons dried up there too quickly and it was too irritating to be lacking a direction for the ultraviolet disc. There was no such spark from beyond the armor either, but after Sunset's story, the unicorn began to feel, and not only understand—

—that even with armor removed, Electra will not be there. If she calls Her, She will not respond. Blacklight could write a letter with a request for an urgent meeting, and there will be neither acceptance nor refusal, nor even a change in the number of incoming messages in Black Moon’s inbox. And is her quiet and comfortable one-room apartment still there? At best it is housing alien ponies; at worst it was never built.

Blacklight nodded slowly; nopony answered her question, but she got sympathetic and sad looks. Sunset winked, though.

“Then we will have to live for Them. Because there is nopony else left to do that,” Blacklight breathed, a heavy lump in her throat. “Act in accordance with the Moons’ ideals and approval, even though They… No, because They will never know.”

Storm and Sunset looked at each other in confusion, Sunset tilted her head and began, her voice sincerely surprised, “Actually, you can’t destroy or kill—”

She neither followed on this, nor gave in to Blackligh’s pleading look; a few beats passed before Sunset snapped, “Disregard that!”

Cursory nodded, “If you keep your feelings alive for a time, you have a good chance to endure loss and come stronger out of it. So, Faraway Storm, you never told us your backup plan. Are we in it?”

“Perhaps,” Storm nodded, “If nopony can be deprived of a choice and forced to make a specific outcome of a choice, and if Moons themselves are true to these words, then... were there times when the Moons were wrong, mistaken or lying?”

Blacklight exchanged glances with Cursory and looked down, uncertain; however, she knew the answer, “Wrong — yes. They can be mistaken, yes. They can’t lie though. They are able to frame answers so that you have a certain opinion after that but if the lie is spoken by a Moon, it changes the world so that it becomes the truth. If the world cannot change in this way, then the Moon will not be able to tell this lie.”

“Great,” Storm nodded, “Approximately as we thought. Now the most important thing, this... the first word about the freedom of choice, does it concern Moons Themselves? Does Prime Word affect Them? Do you know?”

Blacklight shook her head. She really wanted to say yes. The Moons always behaved as if they were following the Prime Word, but to know the answer, it was necessary, at the very least, to have read the question written...

She had never come across such a book or brochure in her life; it was a question too fundamental.

“So, we will follow on as if yes, Moons are affected by this Prime Word,“ Storm’s smile was weak, and she did not actually wait for an answer; it was not like that Blacklight was going to answer, “Because if not, then there is no hope anyway, and at least our attempt won’t make things worse.”

☳☳☳

The plan was desperate. It was based on unverified premises. But in all the past histories of the Moons, many rules have been pronounced — too many, according to Dispassion — and therefore They had limits.

It was not even possible to speak of the plan in detail; they could be seen and heard from the sky. If during the Ascension the Moons retain the personalities and habits of the ponies They once were, then ‘could be’ might as well read ‘must be’.

Storm, the seventh out of the six, also did not want to lay much hope on miracles and fate — they were most literally not about her. Elseonce Purity, in her own words, ‘severed the connection’ between Storm and fate. Storm's dreams of past lives were too dreary, confusing and annoying, and Storm was infinitely grateful for being rid of them.

This gratitude, as well as quiet delight not unlike the one that a foal could feel before their wise and kind teacher, were forcing Storm to keep going against all odds. She just could not leave it like that. Anything but this. She could not even say what it was beyond ‘this’, but she knew that more than anything Purity wanted to return home.

I'll walk her home, or I'll die trying, Faraway Storm promised herself.

Then she asked three ponies in front of her aloud and clearly, so that the indifferent dark sky could hear her too, “If it is necessary to defeat Dispassion, which of you is ready to go through Ascension? I know it's impossible, but are you ready or not? Go with your heart, don’t be afraid!”

Three hooves rose, Blacklight being the last of the three. Sunset narrowed her eyes and stuck out her tongue, without a word; still, her hoof rose too.

“Can I assume that everypony is ready for real, so that I can rely on your answer; when I say you will go for it, even if there is not even a beat to return home,” she slightly intoned these two last words, looking at Sunset, “to think and change your mind?”

She had no time to hear or see the answer, for the sky and the air were immediately hidden by inky darkness... but this time there was a flame in it, and the very darkness felt much weaker, less total. Maybe even unsure. Three pure, albeit weak, lights, were visible, burning live in it — white from Cursory, dark blue from Blacklight, blue with orange flashes from Sunset.

Storm knew that there was no flame in herself; it was not required. She only had time to think with a bout of anger, “Well, I told her to go under the water!” when the darkness spoke. No words, but metal shine of future visions opened wide for Storm. Incredibly huge, black, angular spaceships, in an exact formation approaching multi-colored planets; a swarm of black stinging wasps, ready to lay eggs of the only sure future in them; reproduction, growth, new ships, takeoff and search for a target. That was the way, and nothing else could be, because everything that we ourselves did not have time to destroy will sooner or later destroy us.

At the head of the process was a reasoned mind — not even remorseless or merciless; in order to be called these words, one must know what remorse and mercy are and at least at times be guided by them. In the future — the inevitable, predetermined future that set out to happen eons ago and went on through Storm the only meaning of existence was the very existence in the flawless and unmistakable shell of metals and electronics. Being unconditionally protected from everything irrational — from magic, friendship, love and other emotions; and from life in general.

Storm could agree. The vision of the future was preset with a number of necessary changes in Storm's psyche, which would provide the shortest and most direct path to a dark future, and she was ready to take the first step, to pull the first tile out from the base of her personality. Technically, is there a difference in whom to follow as long as you are needed?

She had no mouth in that vision; she did not say “No.”

After an imperceptible moment, Faraway Storm was left alone, small, weak and devoid of a universe-spanning purpose, in the midst of oppressive darkness. She looked around, saw the dying lights of her friends.

She almost forgot her own little plan. Almost.

Then she smiled and said aloud, loudly and clearly, turning on all the external speakers, “Suppose I can ask a question. Suppose it could be phrased like this: “A reputable synthesis of what was once a pony named Dispassion and what was once a pony named Purity — clearly you are no longer a pony. But are you a Moon?"

She froze in anticipation. These beats were ones that decided everything; her heart was pounding, she could not even breathe; but three beats later, Faraway Storm was still alive, and realized that the first stage of the plan had worked.

Dispassion, too, knew how to calculate the options of the future. At this point, Storm knew that Dispassion had already figured out exactly why she cannot avoid a critical loss now. It remains to explain to their ponies, so that they know what to do in case of—

Storm continued, smiling, “For now, you can refrain from answering, as, for sure, you did your whole history. But if I do not hear at least some answer in the next third of a slice, the fact that every creature that pretends to be a Moon should explicitly make a choice to name or not name themself so will be inscribed into reality by another Moon,” Storm nodded towards Sunset.

She responded, “Uh-huh. It's a shame, of course— I never wanted to be the Moon. It's such a tough, limited way of being. I would say I sympathize with you, but I would lie,” Sunset grinned. “But I saw now what you have done with our world, and Black Moon specifically said that I can become a full-fledged Moon, if only by synthesis, for a price. This choice, should it be made a law, will eradicate my freedom, my being, everything that I value most, and it will cripple you too — and frankly? The result is totally worth the price.

And no, you will not stop me should I commit to the act. You bound yourself with celestial mechanics when you opted for Ascension. But me? I am still free, at least for now, and can make a beeline for the Red on the other side of the planet in the blink of an eye. Yes, the Red, whom the whole Trinity could barely keep contained; do you really want to test what we can do once reunited?”

Storm nodded to Sunset and went on, “And no, this will not violate the Prime Word, because a coercion that is present will not be forcing you to a single, predefined branch of choice. So, the freedom of choice, technically, will be preserved, and to be sure it works, none of the answers lead to you losing anything of consequence… directly.”

Sunset smiled, “And if you are to decree anything and disarm the trap, you do confirm that you are a Moon anyway. Have no doubt, I will turn it on you that very beat. I am tired of being secluded by an ancient misjudgement, and those who held me contained are now gone.”

Storm paused, afraid of saying something wrong; her head was spinning, “So, say ‘Yes’, and I demand from you to grant the freedom of choice, in accordance with the Prime Word. Specifically grant freedom to one pony. Purity, the unending one, leader of the Moonless. Say ‘No’ and you will be banished eventually, as you would thus renounce the Moon-like direct control over the world that you currently possess by uncertainty.

“Postpone the choice for a while, even by killing us, and Sunset Shimmer will return, as immortals cannot be destroyed, only weakened or banished. Or Blacklight and Cursory Streak will return, those in which the shadows of the Six dwell. They have already begun to work the miracle that will bring Sunset back to heaven, and the fact that you interrupted it does not mean that you canceled it. What had started will come to completion, as the traveler still returns victorious. Do we believe that Sunset Shimmer is worthy and can be a Moon? Yes, we do,” and flames around her went brighter.

The darkness was silent. The darkness was waiting, inviting her to speak further.

Storm was silent too, as the time given for the answer had just begun.

Sunset approached her, stood side to side, as a ghostly orange silhouette could not go inside the armor, but could be close; then Sunset said, looking into the darkness, “Get out of our world.”

There was no answer. Space itself has shifted by the length of a hoof along an impossible axis — neither the usual three ones, nor the arrow of time, and, against all Storm’s expectations, nor even the one that pierces both the everside and dreamscape. She saw the black thing that was hollow and full of stars; the thing saw her too; then she was at the submarine’s top metallic surface, and visions of outside were no more.

There was no more darkness, too. Gray one was not in the sky before; now it simply was not.

Sunset was hovering nearby, gently bobbing up and down. "We... won. Better than that. We won without casualties, without a fight. I didn't even need to sacrifice anything."

Storm's head drooped a little, and then she glanced away, pressing her neck against her forelimbs. One by one, in rapid succession, various plates began parting, some outright detaching from the suit and dropping onto the deck, seemingly prioritising speed over reversibility.

"Uh, Storm, it's not safe yet," objected Blacklight.

At that moment Storm glanced back. Not at Blacklight, but at Sunset. The oscillogram on her flank inverted colors, shining green against the black, and so did the bracelet now clearly visible on her foreleg.

Faraway Storm, the seventh of the six, did not have anything against magic, at least not intrinsically nor indiscriminately, as some other Moonless did. Even though she did dislike the magic of the Moons, the reasons were different — she was conscious when it came to sources of power. It’s one thing to rely on something that is always with you, and totally different to rely on something given from above, something that can be taken away from you at any moment. Something you can only rely on as a last resort, when the very word ‘rely’ is a misnomer.

According to one of many theories, all supernatural phenomena were akin to songs. Not normal sound-based songs, of course, for they needed neither air nor other material medium, but songs made of waves. Waves that, even as the world changed, self-perpetuated, self-corrected, and changed the world too.

And this theory also postulated that all counter-resonators, phase suppressors, and the like, all relied on an irreproducible component — a piece of a pony’s soul. Not every soul was fitting — only those rare who felt the silence behind all those songs. The device would generate counterphases, and adjust them based on the living operator’s feedback — ‘this part of the curve right there; of the generated options, this one makes it quieter; yes, now I can hear nothing but calm’.

Now Storm had no such device. Only herself, her special talent, reinforced with her bracelet, and a commendable target to unleash this talent on.

It was impossible. Utterly futile, as Sunset was, in Storm's vision, an enormous wall of orange-blue fire, reaching all the way to the sky, while Faraway Storm remained just a pony. Neither destiny's tool, nor a spark of a Moon-in-becoming, nor a brilliant prodigy. These were others; she was nothing like that.

She did not prepare nor estimate the outcome. She just did what she could. With all that Faraway Storm ever was, she countered Sunset's orange flame with her own dark-green despair and loss.

She had no chance, even as that was not a duel, and Sunset did not expect a stab in her soul. Very soon, Storm dried out; she saw a dent in Sunset's great song, and reality wavered. But not enough. Not enough.

From outside, there were a few beats of utter silence — no whistling of wind, no crashing waves. For that short time, Sunset's graceful hovering faltered. But only that, and no more. "Huh. Not to overstate the capabilities of your trinkets, but I actually felt that. You can actually do that?"

Storm glared at her, "Oh, I can do more than that. And I'm willing to do it. Anything that would lessen the chance of having to tolerate your presence for one more beat. How could you even suggest for them to leave? You were given the best opportunity we could hope for, the best possible substitute for a miracle... and instead of using it to defeat the monster, you nudged her to escape with everything, including the only one who was not willing to follow her."

Sunset sighed. "Don't want to tolerate my presence, little one? Fine. I did say I'll take your words at face value."

With that, she turned into a flash of orange, and shot beyond the horizon like an arching beam of light.

Storm closed her eyes and began to say goodbye to her mentor, lost forever, remembering and recalling all the good and all the bad, every smile and every bout of unfair anger, every cup of tea and every training awakening outside the regime.

Cursory took a step towards Storm. "We can grieve later. Right now… we have a problem, and I'm not sure of what kind. There was this big orange indicator on the right that you mentioned. With a countdown. And now it shattered into many smaller dots, weak and flickering... but the countdown cut almost in half when that happened. Do you know what that means?”

Storm laid herself down once again. "Probably the last of the aftershocks. Or something similar. What you describe, frankly, makes no sense to me. These sensors could do that but waves never occur in multitudes. Don't know, don't care. I'm going native."

"...what?"

Storm sighed weakly. "She's gone to where not even the Moons would follow. You all got more or less what you asked for. If I can't have what I truly want, then at least let me have the peace of being at home. Surely I deserve at least that much after all I've been through. Do you know that every time one of us kills a pony, the murderer gets selective demnestic treatment? These memories are not truly gone. Small glimpses remain." She sniffed. "I have my share of that. I think friends and family will be sad about me for a short while up there but they likely either are Departed already or mostly fine beyond the station’s walls. Departed are… confused or shut down right now, or some such. Whatever."

There was a silence, and for a few beats, it seemed, it would last, keeping Storm at illusion of peace. Then the annoying voice of the pegasus went on, "You can choose that, but consider: we can get through this. We can think of something, just like we always did. We can take shelter if we dive fast enough, and then work a miracle like you kept asking for. But… it would be better with you. You know how to operate the shield systems."

Storm barely lifted her head. "Don't suddenly go manipulative on me at a moment like this. If you don't want to hang around, at least let our last talk be a dignified one. And don't worry about the shield. It's still primed to activate automatically upon detection of an approaching wave. Or maybe you're seeing things my way too, but are not as upfront with yourself about it, so you waste time talking to me while merely pretending to want to reject the new world. You too have reasons to want a new home."

Upon hearing that, Cursory Streak spread her still-armored wings. "On the contrary. I have been tempted to give up, but I cannot allow myself such a luxury. If I let go of the unwritten history, nopony will remember Gentle Touch as I know her."

Blacklight went closer, to at best three steps of distance. She spoke haltingly to Cursory, “Also, now that we saw a trick, we might borrow it, I think. Don’t want to go into details now, but that’s how it goes in stories — in older times, when you did something good for a Moon, you might expect something in return. So don’t give up on Gentle just yet, okay? We all have lost our friends here, but you both still have hope.”

Cursory Streak stepped closer. Her helmet cracked and slided back, opening up her face. She touched Storm’s shoulder with an armored hoof, and just kept standing there, never breaking the touch; while that was off-track for moonburnt society, Storm’s could not say that she did not like it. After all, that gesture clearly was not an attack, and Cursory was not an unicorn, for whom an unsuited head might signify a threat. Magic powerful enough to breach armor would be obvious; soft flame, yellow like a baked milk, flickering from inside of Cursory’s suit, was barely more than some external flares to begin with, and died down completely a few beats later, before Storm formed a question.

Storm did not react to that, or to Blacklight’s prompt. Her thoughts returned to her flashbacks, to wishing that her memory would stay in a place where Purity the unending, the one that was always deserving Storm’s quiet appreciation, will never return to. But of course that could not last. The promised peace could not coexist with the very thing that was the cause of her sorrow.

She turned her eyes towards the detached plates lying nearby, with the emergency-release pistons burnt and connectors disheveled at best and irreparably damaged at worst. She jumped up, letting the remains of the armour fall overboard. "Once more, prepare to dive."

Comments

[Numinos]

Another great chapter. Some things were fixed, some are still unresolved, and I'm waiting for the next ones : )