Out of Place

by Dan_s Comments

Out of Options Part 2

Out of Place - Out of Options Part 2

DISCLAIMER: My Little Pony is the property of Hasbro, Inc.
America: Man's Road - written by Jimmy Webb, 1982
Found on The Last Unicorn Soundtrack

I'm hungry, weary, but I cannot lay me down
The rain comes, dreary, but there's no shelter I have found
It will be a long time till I find my abode
Here I am on Man's road, walking Man's road

The list of metal- and wood-working tools grows with each trip to the library. How am I going to pay for any of this? I wonder as I glance around the room that has been effectively ceded to me, I need to do something to balance the scales. I have a roof over my head, some clothes, regular meals, and no means to pay for it. I pack the list away, and begin my daily trip to the library. The other reason for the trip is a break from the experiments: what began as being able to sense cracks and faults in a material, has grown to being able to move them in metal and glass. They have to be heated, which is also a growing ability. I guess my cutie mark is going to be an arc welder. Or a recrystallization rig, I think as I walk, Funny, I've got a power that would be an engineer's dream back home: find flaws in a material, and move them all to one part of the material. Cast something and then sweep all the flaws into the sprues, then break them off. Better parts every time. Except I'm making the guards nervous. I bet they're thinking I could burn my way out of any lock up.

The only reason I don't stay the entire day at the library is the after-lunch sessions with Hardwood. And I suspect those are merely to make sure I take a break and eat something, I think, If I'm hungry I eat, if I'm not I don't. Nothing shows you have to eat three meals a day. But I guess ponies are used to 'grazing' all day.

The guard today is the one who looks like a neanderthal pony right down to the beetling brow. He refuses to give his name, yet still has a deeply-ingrained intellectual streak. His mane and tail color is very different from 'Brushcut's', and he's got a basso profundo voice.

Maybe I should suggest a barbershop quartet, I think of the group who seem to be on 'crazy unicorn' rotation.

" 'By the brand on my withers, the finest of tunes
Is played by the Lancers, Hussars, and Dragoons,
And it's sweeter than "Stables" or "Water" to me,
The Cavalry Canter of "Bonnie Dundee!"

Then feed us and break us and handle and groom,
And give us good riders and plenty of room,
And launch us in column of squadron and see
The Way of the War-horse to "Bonnie Dundee!" Rudyard Kipling."

Neanderpony's expression is one of weighing confusion. He is deciding if he can show he likes it, or not, I think as he considers. We enter the library, and proceed to the stacks.

"Never heard of him, or her," he answers as I collect the books for the first part of the day's reeducation.

"One of my wild memories," I explain as I head back to a table I favor. Near the light, but out of the main paths of traffic. "A poet beloved by the army."

"I can see why," he replies.

Tough crowd, I think as I look at the people rushing towards the windows.

"Should we join the stampede?" I ask as I look.

Perambulate pursuit of the precipitate precipitation of panicked ponies peering at the panorama, I think, then close my eyes and shake my head.

"Are you all right?" he asks.

"Just thinking too alliteratively," I reply.

"There's a dragon out there!"

Pronounces a panicky prince prancing past, I think.

"I think I need to take you back to your quarters," my guard tells me.

"I was going to offer to go with you to the battlements, but if I keep alliterating, I think it's a bad idea."

He stares at me as we get up from the table and head back. Out in the halls, more ponies are running here and there. The military and some civil servants with a sense of urgency. The rest with panic and confusion.

"If I run, you have to chase me, right?" I ask.

"Until I tackle you, yes," he replies.

"Then save the tackle until you can lock me in, I'm headed towards my room. Big windows facing the prime direction," I tell him as I dash away. I arrive at my room, to discover someone has taken the door off the hinges. Inside is a command post: maps of the castle and surrounding grounds attached to the empty bedframes stood up as makeshift plotting boards. Several officers and troopers are setting more bedframes on end, and attaching maps. And framed perfectly by the windows, is a thick cloud of black smoke. My guard arrives, and seems as nonplused as I am. Fortunately, I spot Sergeant Mile Stone and Major Hansom. "Should I leave?" I ask.

"No, lad," Mile Stone says, "We'd be collecting you anyway."

Hansom glances at the sergeant, and lowers his voice, "Auxiliary damage control, and as one of the more heavily shielded rooms, we're assembling a lot of the too-young royalty and VIPs."

Get the useless kids all in one place, I translate, At least I'm not thinking alliteratively any longer.

"No sliding on the floor, lad," Mile Stone reminds me that I look like a midteen, despite what I think I am. My guard is collected by one of the other lieutenants, and tasked with some job.

VIPs is right, I think as the dignitaries arrive, There are several zebra, a griffin, a young buffalo, as well as dozens of ponies.

"So, you're the blank-flank who caught Celestia's eye," one white unicorn mare with a pack of sycophants sneers at me. Several of the others, and especially the diplomatic group, watch with interest.

Queen Bee going after the local, round one, I think, then smile.

"If that's what you choose to believe, I can't stop you," I reply, "I can chuckle, even laugh at you, but I can't stop you."

"I don't see a cutie mark, or do you call it a 'stud stamp'?" the bee's beta nudges me in the flanks as she laughs.

"You're too young to do that to a boy," I tell her in a stage whisper, "And this is the wrong place if you mean it." She's shocked enough to retreat. "All that means is I haven't discovered my talent, or that I have, and the mark is the same color as the rest of me."

"I think it means you'll never amount to anything," the Queen Bee says.

"Quite an insult to our diplomatic friends," I reply and nod to the others who lack markings, "I'll have to tell your mother to school you in manners."

You're out of your league kid, I don't tell her, You can sneer, but I know it's you, and your friends who don't break away, who will grow up to be nothing. I've already been through High School. The prom queen married the quarterback. He's a used car salesman, and she sells cleaning supplies. Most of their money goes to booze on the weekends. The nerds like me and second stringers are the engineers and entrepreneurs with the fancy cars and houses.

Queen Bee puts her nose in the air. "I don't know why I'm talking to you," she snorts and walks away. Like a shoal of minnows, her pack follows.

"You were bored?" I offer, and walk over to the legation kids, who all seem somewhat nervous. "Don't worry, Princess Celestia has her most trusted knights on the job. At this moment, I bet they're assembling to deal with the dragon," I tell them.

If I remember the episode correctly, I think.

" 'Knights?'" the buffalo asks, "Like, her?" She looks over at the Queen Bee and her pack, who are harassing Mile Stone about 'doing something'.

"Good Lord, no," I tell them, "Not royalty, or nobility. People who actually go out and do things."

"Like Daring Do?" the griffin asks excitedly.

"More like that, than the Queen of the May Not," I reply and nod over to Snooty the Great who is on the receiving end of Hardwood's most patronizing 'I'm here to help' speech. "Have any of you ever heard of a heavier than air flying machine?"

There's confusion among them. A few of the other royal/noble ponies drift over, deciding on safety in numbers, while the shark pack cruises for victims.

"There isn't one," the griffin says, "An artist came up with pictures of a machine that would fly like a bird, but nobody can build one."

"An ornithopter," I say, then realize what I've done. They are all staring at me in confusion. "A machine that flies like a bird. Ornitho - for bird. Sorry, ancient language. But nothing other than that?"

They look around, politely discussing and shaking their heads.

"Why would we need that?" the griffin asks, extending and preening one wing, then the other.

"Some people can't fly naturally," I reply.

"What about balloons and airships?" one unicorn filly asks. She's wearing a vest and shorts, but the muffler and tail 'bag' are the odd parts. She's more than slightly resembles the Princesses: tall, thin legs, smaller barrel, but the look in the eye is the clincher.

"They aren't the same. The gas bag gives you lift, but it also gives drag, so you're limited in speed by the very thing you need to fly. And the winds will drive you more than any motors would." I borrow a blank piece of paper, and draw out a diagram. "Lift, weight, drag and thrust, each pair in opposition. Pegasi, griffins, and other flying creature have less drag, but more weight, a balloon has more lift, but more drag. A flying machine would be more like a pegasus or griffin. Or maybe even a hummingbird."

They laugh, but it's different than the discordant sound from the shark pack.

"Hey loser, what's this?" the Queen Bee asks as she holds up a metal box that I had concealed beneath a loose board in the window sill.

"That contains the dye I use to hide the mark on my butt," I tell her, "I wouldn't shake it if I were you."

"Why's it labeled 'sch-muck bait'?" she asks as she shakes it next to her ear.

"Because 'Do Not Open' never seemed to keep people from doing just that," I reply, "I wouldn't, by the way."

The officers are overhearing, and putting things together. One or two have broken away from their discussions and are heading her way. Too late, she opens it. The dye covers her to her withers, three of her posse get a face full. The dye is the exact color I am.

There are a number of filly screams, and more as they realize magic won't get the dye off. Most of the legation kids and the Queen Bee's normal victims are laughing at her. The officers corral the fillies who've been dyed, and hustle them towards the bathroom. Mile Stone is heading my way.

"Excuse me, I think I'm going to be punished," I say as I stand and separate myself from the group. I move to meet the sergeant halfway.

"While I do think she deserved it, what would prevent anyone else from tripping that?" he whispers sharply.

"I had it hidden. And it's going to get worse. That dye is fairly magic-proof. I ginned it up after I found out someone other than the security forces had searched this room. It's been tripped before, three times. I needed some way for the tabloids to explain why I was a 'blank flank'."

The poor sergeant crosses his eyes, then shuts them. "I'm going to let an officer deal with this." He glares at me. "You stay here, lad."

I nod, and let him head over, not to the Major, who actually looks worried he would, but to a senior lieutenant who seems to hold an advanced degree in superciliousness.

---

The lecture on responsibility and deportment had been vaguely entertaining, and admitting all wrongdoing while reducing the lieutenant to raging contradictions had been useful in keeping the diplomatic kids occupied until nightfall, when the all-clear came through. They'd thanked me. The dyed fillies ran to their mommas and daddies, who were horrified by the 'maiming', but even more so when they were informed their darlings had decided to break into the place where the labeled material was kept, and ignored two clear warnings not to do what they'd done.

And my punishment, after they discovered the dye does not come off, and that it didn't affect their eyes, is to clean up the mess, I think as I sweep up the food wrappers, and mop up the spilled drinks, while half of Canterlot is celebrating the victory. The upright bed frames still have the maps hung from them, and those are harder to deal with. Why is paper the thing my telekinesis is weakest against? I can practically weld and forge metal with my bare horn, but paper . . . I guess I'm no Rarity. The mop and broom handles are wood, which presents no problems. The dust pan and buckets are metal, which are trivially easy. The maps I take down with my teeth, and carefully roll them up as best I can. If no one comes to get them, they're mine. I leave them where they aren't easily seen from the doorway, but a trivial search would spot them. The door is back, and bolted from the outside. A demand the Queen Bee insisted on, and I was only too happy to agree to.

Restacking the beds, and finally, applying the special lye soap to remove the dye from the floor and the bathroom fixtures completes the evening's cleanup. The party sounds like it's still going on, I note as I see the lights of the city illuminating the room's ceiling, and the sounds coming in.

I stand on my rear hooves, with my forehooves on the window sill and look at all the lights still moving through the town beyond the castle. The Great Hall is ablaze with light and people move through the gardens. But I could care less. Tomorrow, assuming they let me out, I've got a project, I think as I hop down to the floor, And if the Mane Six just dealt with the dragon, a trip to Ponyville will get me plans or at least examination of a working prototype.

---

Morning brings a rough shake from a guard I've never seen before. That's bad. The angry, white alicorn is a greater threat. "Lye soap, a minimum of water, and a bit of scrubbing. It's the ink they use on magic scrolls," I say quickly, "Good morning, your Majesty." I do my best bow, considering I'm still in bed and half-asleep. The paper that drops in front of me tells me I guessed wrong. There is a picture, of me, full side-view and the caption 'What is Celestia's toy hiding?'

"Ah, uh, oh," I manage as my brains spin up to speed. "Nothing, your Highness, but they don't need to know that." A skim of the article reports almost verbatim that I dye my cutie mark to hide it.

"There's no shame in not having your cutie mark," she says, stern, but motherly.

"Your Majesty, I never mentioned that, until last night. And the people who'd previously opened the box, and got a dye job, never hung around to ask." I glance around at the squad of guards, all of whom seem as disturbed as her Highness, "And this is irrelevant, isn't it?"

"Clear the room and lock it," her Highness orders. Some of the guards follow the order unwillingly, but in a few moments we are alone. One of the stacked beds floats over, a mattress floats from where they are stacked onto the bed, and is then covered with a sheet. All before the frame lands. It's an impressive display of power and control. Celestia kneels on the bed, eliminating the obvious height and size difference.

I wonder if she's even aware she feels a need to do this, I think uneasily, I am not going to tell her it's unnecessary. But I may mention it to Hardwood, let him decide what gets back to her Majesty.

"I can't understand more than a tiny amount of what I saw in your mind. And I thank you for the warning about Discord. I hope to be more ready than my counterpart. But you have to understand something about burying yourself in your work, or your studies. While your mind is in some ways more durable than my ponies. You've sealed away a huge pool of pain. If you don't find a way to release it, the explosion will destroy you. And I don't think a hug from friends will restore you. While my ponies break more easily, they heal much more easily."

This was not what I was expecting, I realize as I try to catch up to where I thought this was going.

"I'm doing what I always do," I admit, "I'd bury myself in work, to avoid dealing with problems. I thought I was over that."

"Pon - people do what they are comfortable with, especially when they don't know what else to do," she tells me.

"Something I suspect you've learned from recent experience," I say, and get a stern glare, "I guess I haven't decided that all of this is real. I mean this is a kids' show. Except it isn't, and I don't know how to deal with that. I have - I have to make sure I am who I was first. Then I can start discovering who I am now. There's a simple way to do that, and it might give one of your knights an insight into herself she desperately needs."

"Another of my students goes to Ponyville?" she asks sardonically, "The poor Ponyvillians are going to get a complex."

"I think they'll get an even bigger countercomplex when I get what I'm after. I think they'll survive."

"Can your trip wait?" she asks, "I'm planning to visit there next week. Why don't you come with me?" she asks, and nuzzles me.

She draws back when I react with horror. " 'Next week'?! I think I need to get there as soon as possible, and I'd better have an accordion when I get there."

"Trouble?" she asks in alarm.

"Nothing the locals can't deal with," I assure her, "The other is a just an immediate credential and entry."

"I'm not sure I want to know," she admits.

Then something about the column catches my eye. " 'What is Celestia's toy hiding? By Sunny Days'?"

There's only two people in Equestria who would get that reference, I think, And they're both right here.

The look of utter and abject innocence practically radiating off the ruler of Equestria tells me all I need to know. "You are trolling the ponies who think you're a monster."

"I don't have any idea what you mean," she replies.

---

I look up from my packing. "What's up, doc?" I ask Hardwood as he enters my room.

The poor pony looks chagrined. "One of these days, you're going to have to explain that. I asked her Majesty, and she had an attack of the giggles. While it's good to see her Majesty able to laugh, I'd really like to know what's so funny."

"It's the ears," I tell him, "They're perfect."

He tries to stare up to see his own ears. "That's nice, perfect for what?" he asks.

I sigh. "A joke isn't really funny, if you have to explain it. Suffice it to say, you physically and intellectually resemble a cartoon character."

"One different from the cartoon ponies we all resemble?" he asks.

"Exactly."

He shakes his head briefly. "I'm glad you're going to Ponyville, once you see you fit in there, maybe you'll let yourself fit in here."

"Whatever do you mean, that everypony in Ponyville is crazy?" I ask, "That's a paraphrase from the show."

"More an egalitarianism that exists there, but is lacking in all but the real movers and shakers in Canterlot," Hardwood says, "Too many people wondering about the pecking order here. I don't think you like that too much."

"Okay, now I'm worried. No questions, just statements?"

"Oh, I'm here as Major Hardwood, not Doctor Hardwood," he offers, "And we'll need your help on a mission of some importance. One I don't think you would have seen on the show, but one of significant importance to the rest of us."

"I've been sponging off the government for a while. I'd be glad, no eager to pay back."

"You'll need to use your insights to get a very special mission completed, for Princess Luna herself."

---

"I'm glad they sent Corps-Sergeant-Major Mile Stone with me on this trip," I tell him as he walks beside me. For a few moments pride wars with embarrassment on his usually stoic expression.

Although he has a mission of his own, I think as the two of us walk through the town of Ponyville, Although Hardwood tasked me to help, in between preventing a disaster.

"I think you look good in charcoal-gray, although the solid black sideburns makes you look younger than the salt-and-pepper did," I tell my friend, guard and the eyes of Canterlot, and especially Princess Luna.

The sergeant who glares at me currently possesses the highest, noncommissioned rank in the entire Equestrian military.

"Just think: There is no one, not even the princesses, who is the sole holder of a high rank, commissioned or noncommissioned." I glance over at him. "You'll forgive me eventually," I tell him. The scowl is worth it. "On a serious note, if they didn't believe you deserved it, you wouldn't have gotten it. The Night Guards have their own princess back, and they have to establish an identity of their own. Other than 'the Day Guards' castoffs'."

"They will need more than that."

"The First Special Services Force was recruited from an elite Canadian force, and Americans assembled from training cadres all over the west. So you had half-trained ruffians, who'd learned lots of nasty tricks in their civilian life, and a disciplined force of professional soldiers. The combination had their enemies name then 'The Devil's Brigade'."

"Where do you come up with this stuff, lad?"

"Human history."

The Ponyvillians are preparing for the princess' arrival in a few days. They note our arrival, but take no real mind of us. "I very much doubt I'll forgive you, sir, but it is something of an idea," he replies. His only revenge for my 'help' in getting his post, is redoubling his efforts to turn a callow youth into a good officer, despite me not being a member of the military. He notes the large tree/house we're heading towards. "I thought we were heading towards this genius. I believe the library is Miss Sparkle's domicile."

"I need to drop off a housewarming gift, and a way to introduce myself without it appearing completely contrived."

"She might have read the recent column by that despicable 'Sunny Days'," the sergeant says, "That mare has never been given proper training in manners. Or even, discretion."

"You were about to say 'decency'," I tell him. "When we can secure an area, I'll tell you some things you need to know about him."

"Him?"

"Sunny Days is no Earth Pony mare, Unicorn mare or Pegasus mare," I reply, "I even think I've figured out who Sunny Days is. I'll hold your coat, while you give the blackguard a good, sound thrashing." I smile at his embarrassment.

"I hadn't meant that," he explains, "I am sure a stern talking to would suffice."

"I can just about guarantee, he'll politely tell you to mind your own business," I explain as I knock on the door. The voice on the other side is not the one I came to see.

The baby dragon revealed by the opening door looks at us in confusion. "Hi, I'm Spike. Twilight Sparkle's assistant."

"Hello Spike. I'm P.T. Barnum McHorsefly, and this is Corps-Sergeant-Major Mile Stone. Is Twilight Sparkle in?"

The little dragon looks worriedly at the mess inside. "She left to check on the preparations for the Princess' visit."

"Do you know where Miss Rarity's boutique can be found?" the sergeant asks.

The little dragon perks up immediately. "I can take you there!" he says happily, then his joy fades. "After I've cleaned up here."

"You take Sergeant Mile Stone to the boutique. I can't properly reshelve the books, but I can deal with the dirt."

"Would you?" the dragon asks happily.

"There are worse ways to introduce yourself," I tell him, "Besides, with my magic, it won't take long."

"Would you teach Twilight those spells?" he asks eagerly as he and the sergeant leave.

The dust and dirt are easily gathered in one spot, that being directly over the dust bin. The cleaning supplies, mostly for cleaning wood, are quickly mixed and a dozen sponges are soon hard at work on the shelves and carvings. With only the books to reshelve and the wood gleaming, I remove the gift I brought for Twilight. The stuffed bumblebee toy with the gray collar marked 'Mrs. Buzzy' I leave in a prominent place.

That should have her a bit curious, and just slightly off-balance, I think, then immediately facehoof.

"I didn't ask him where - " I facehoof again. "She should be at Rarity's." I check the rest of my parcels and head in that direction.

---

"Does anypony know where I can find an accordion?" my target asks the people within Rarity's boutique, "Gals, hello! This is important!" She stamps her hooves in frustration.

"Ma'am," I say, "I have one"

The pink mare immediately brightens up. "Ooo! Can I borrow it?"

"Parasprites?" I ask, praying that I correctly remember the details of the episode I only saw once.

"Of course, silly!" she says happily.

"Where can I set up to start assembling the instruments? Frankly, my musical skills would get me banished to the moon by either her Highness, if they ever heard me play. But I can build like no one's business."

"I'll have to modify it!" Pinkie Pie announces as she runs away with the accordion.

"I'll be glad to help," I tell her as I pursue.

"I'll have to make it a player accordion. Do you like ice cream, what's your favorite flavor?"

A player accordion!? Is that -? Never mind! This is Pinkie Pie we're talking about! I remind myself.

"I'm a fair engineer, I can help."

"Okie dokie loki. You drive trains?" she asks, "What do trains have to do with ice cream?"

"Only to test them after I build them. That's what I came to talk to you about, but let's deal with the Parasprites first. What do Parasprites have to do with ice cream? Feeding them makes them multiply!"

"Yeah, and we want to subtract them from the town!"

"So are you a descendant of Sleipnir?" I ask.

She turned her head to look at me. "How do you know that? Are you some alien being who dropped down to Equestria from outer space?"

"I'm from Canterlot," I tell her, "I only work in outer space."

---

The evening is spent assembling, welding, screwing bits together, and getting Pinkie Pie to get a night's sleep. 'Pinkamena Diane Pie, you are going to have to run this thing tomorrow. It's important that you rest. So you will rest, or I'll knock you out,' I had told her, and checked up on her twice. We compromised on two three-hour naps. With her cutting the roll that would control the accordion's player mechanism between those naps. During one of those naps, I located the wreckage of her Pinkie copter.

"I still have to get more instruments," she announces as she leaves at first light, "We need a banjo, and some tambourines! Maybe AJ will have a harmonica."

"Don't forget the tuba, that's the centerpiece. I've got the mounting fixtures all ready when you get them," I tell her as I work on the collection of musical instruments, and the frame that will hold the assembly comfortably. I've progressed steadily from an NDT lab on four legs, to being able to do a form of welding that most machinists only dream of. All based on my growing unicorn magic.

I'd almost be afraid to describe this to people, I think as the crystals of material twist and shape themselves into each other like roots or tentacles growing and twining, wood, metal and glasses all are easily attached to each other using my new power, I'm almost glad this doesn't work on living things. That would be a little too tempting.

The sergeant enters. "There are Parasprites in this town!" he gasps as he closes the door behind him.

"Hence the musical instruments." I don't look up from my work.

"That will get rid of them?" the sergeant asks.

"Yep, lead them back to the Everfree Forest, where the predator-filled environment will make short work of them," I explain as I test the spell to power the player accordion. The music is serviceable and I listen as I watch the clock. "I've have got to improve that spell," I comment, "Four minutes isn't enough. If I can't get at least twelve, we could be in a lot of trouble."

"There is a magic expert in town," Sergeant Mile Stone points out.

"Been by three times, and she's been gone each time. If she's avoiding me, she's doing a good job."

"What can I do?" the sergeant asks.

I glance around. "Are you any good at jigsaw puzzles? The real reason I came is in the shed out back, and it's in a lot of pieces." I look up from the cooling weld. "Oh, did you have any luck with getting the uniform designs out of Miss Rarity?"

The gentleman doesn't show his true frustration. Instead, he manages, "Yes, although I need better words to explain the difference between 'dress', 'battle dress' and 'ambassadorial dress' uniforms."

"Black tie, Business Casual, and White tie," I say as I return to staring at the mechanism, and try to wrack my brains to figure out how to store more power in the assembly, without blowing it up or setting it on fire.

Pinkie Pie drops off the sousaphone-style tuba and rushes off.

Now I can integrate that into the assembly . . . and now I have the mass to store the energy the spell needs! I think happily and begin threading the harness and the other instruments through the circular coils of the sousaphone. I note the sergeant has departed at some point.

"That is what you were after, sir?" the sergeant asks as he returns from the shed, "It appears - " Even his ability to remain polite and expressive fail him.

"It's a level of technology beyond anything you're used to. I'll give you a hint," I say, between using my horn to carefully tack weld the frame to the tuba, "It is damaged from crashing. It did actually fly."

"And the lady, flew it?" he says in disbelief.

"The lady designed, built and flew it," I tell him. I look him over, then abandon the thought. "No, you're too big, help me on with this thing. She has to have freedom of movement and I have to keep the weight balanced. It's going to be hard enough playing a half-dozen instruments all at once, without the harness stabbing you someplace, or the whole thing trying to tip over."

"I don't understand," he admits as he helps me test fit the assembly.

I walk around the room, trying to make sure all the important pieces are within reach. "What is that rattling sound?" I ask as I look around.

Mile Stone sticks his head in the bell of the sousaphone, the impulse is tempting. "There appears to be a harmonica at the bottom," his voice echos strangely.

"I am not going to ask how you saw that," I say as he helps me set the 'one-pony band' rig down, and I fish the harmonica out of the tuba and fit it into the wire frame. "All we need now is the musician." I feel a massive surge of magic pass through. "What the hay was that?" I start looking around, expecting the Death Star to appear.

"I didn't feel anything."

Before I can explain, there's a hammering at the door. "Don't let me in! They're eating the tambourines!" Pinkie Pie shouts through the door.

"If they get the tuba or accordion before we're ready -" I shout.

Mile Stone has lowered his head, and paws the ground. "Let the lady in," he says harshly.

I yank the door open for the pink blur, and slam it behind. From the ruined satchels, and the disappearing tambourines, come dozens of the grapefruit-sized monsters.

"Go, lad!" he tells me. Then we get a display reminding us that Celestia's soldiers are not decorations, or ornaments, and that sergeant means he's a master of the fighting craft. Dozens of Parasprites try for the musical assembly. Rear hooves, fore hooves, teeth, and tail, he lashes out at the Parasprites, dashing them against the walls and ceiling. He whirls and twists, too utilitarian to be a dance, but none of the Parasprites gets past as I buckle Pinkie Pie into the contraption.

"This only has 12 minutes, the player roll is looped, so it'll play as long as it has power," I tell her, then strap the cymbals on her legs.

"Ready, steady, go!" she grimly announces, as the Parasprites outside begin eating through the door.

"Gone," I tell her as I release the spell that sets the mechanism going. The door falls away, revealing a swarm of the eating machines. She plays the tuba and harmonica as she marches determinedly through the pack and out onto the street. The Parasprites stop trying to eat the instruments, the building, or anything else as she moves long.

I glance at the sergeant, as he trots after her, and I fall in behind.

I came here to convince Pinkie she's not a caricature or a joke, but I was thinking Sergeant Mile Stone was a bit of a joke, I realize, That too proved not to be true by a long shot.

"Lad," the sergeant asks as we follow the pink music machine and her trail of Parasprites onto Ponyville's main street, "What are we really doing here?"

"Getting our horizons broadened, sergeant," I reply.

"You'd think we could get that in the capital," he says.

"Good Lord no," I reply, "The capital, any capital, is the last place that can happen. True here, true everyplace I remember. Cosmopolitan, but not really inventive."

He puts a hoof on my shoulder. "Before you start making plans to repair all this damage." He and I look at the collapsed and collapsing buildings all over the town square. "When was the last time you slept?" he asks.

"Canterlot. Too long," I admit, and glance back at the shed. "A half-hour, then I'll help."

"Agreed."

I trudge back and collapse on the floor, exhausted.

---

My nose tells me I'm not asleep in the shed anymore, there is no smell of wood, dust, burnt metal or machine oil. I try and place where I've smelled this before, as my other senses report I'm in a bed, with clean sheets and a comforter, and I've been washed.

The last brings me fully awake. I sit up and realize I'm back in the library. Twilight Sparkle is below, studying diagrams and papers, and I'm in the guest bed. Okay, I don't know the societal implications of this, so I'm just going to go with being a good neighbor.

I look around carefully, and spot the sergeant asleep on a couch in another room. Spike is asleep in his basket in the bedroom alcove, and Twilight is off in study land. Outside it's dark, with barely a moon in the sky. I make it down the stairs to the library's main floor before she notices me. I carefully close the door to the sergeant's sleep room, before walking to the table she's working at.

"How long have I been out?" I ask.

"Since yesterday afternoon. I appreciate your help with Pinkie Pie and the Parasprites, but from personal experience I can tell you that depriving yourself of sleep is not the best thing. Especially for a growing colt who's trying to do delicate work and make good decisions," she replies, and visibly restrains herself from continuing her lecture. "I do have one question," she says as her horn glows. "What is this?" Mrs. Buzzy lands in front of me, and the glow around her fades.

"The mathematician's answer is 'A present of a stuffed bumblebee named 'Mrs. Buzzy''," I tell her.

" 'Mathematician's answer'?" she asks.

"Technically correct, but utterly useless," I reply, I look side to side, then lean close. She leans closer. "It's a joke that even should you bend time and space for a solution, you shall never know, for it rests in a universe twice-removed from your own."

The flat ears and frown show exactly what she thinks of that answer.

"I heard you only had Smarty-Pants and Spike, so I figured you needed a fourth for bridge," I tell her. She stares at me worriedly. "If your partner messes up the bid, can't you declare 'dummy' and play their hand?" I ask. She still stares at me. "You do know I came here primarily to get Pinkamena Diane Pie's permission to produce industrial versions of some of her inventions?"

"Pinkie Pie?!" she asks, now adrift in the only island of rationality in an insane world.

"Yes, the flying machine, and a few other items," I tell her, "Pure genius."

"Pinkie Pie?" Her mane is noticeably frazzled by now.

I pick up Mrs. Buzzy with my horn magic and set her before Twilight. "Go get some tea, and cuddle Mrs. Buzzy a while. The world will make much more sense."

She puts the bumblebee on her back and walks into the kitchen. "Pinkie Pie?" she asks the universe in general.

I look over the lists and diagrams, mostly involving the repair of Ponyville. "I think I'm going to have a lot of work to do."

The sergeant comes out of the room he'd been sleeping in. "No arguments, you needed the rest," he tells me without preamble.

I shrug as best I can, and return to staring at the plans.

"What do you think?" he asks.

"She's a great organizer, but a rotten engineer," I reply, "There are much better ways to do this."

"You are two of a kind. I was referring to her charm," he says, "She's quite lovely, and an intellectual. Considering your desire to shake things up, you could do worse. Especially if 'Sunny Days' got a hold of the idea that Celestia's favorites were stepping out on her, with each other."

I stare at him. His expression is guardedly neutral, but I've learned to see the laughter in his eyes. "I still think I used to be a married, hairless ape. I'll take your word that she's attractive, but I don't see it. I have enough trouble telling girls from boys without looking underneath."

"Your loss, lad," he says and shrugs.

Okay, you're learning my tactic of giving up something easy, and going for broke on what you really want, I realize as I can still see the hidden laughter.

"So, are the designs unusable?" he asks, "Or just inefficient?"

"Poor use of resources, and bad, well, overly complicated designs," I reply, "It overworks the fliers, and under-works the ground-bound. But there's a simple way to fix that."

"Glad to hear it, Engineer Officer, you're conscripted, her Nightjesty's orders," he says and grins at me.

I look at him. His grin remains unshakable. "Great," I comment, "Shanghaied on dry land. So does an Engineer Officer outrank a Corps-Sergeant-Major?"

"In everything but ordering troops around. And now you have a rank no one in all of Equestria has. And no one to command but yourself," he says, just barely hiding his grin, "Congratulations." He salutes me. "Sah!"

"Great, now I am the Royal Corps of Engineers, Ubique to you too."

---

To their Highnesses Princess Celestia and Princess Luna,

The repair work is going surprisingly well, and quickly. Having a mage who rivals the Alicorn Sisters in raw power is handy. Teaching said mage and the Ponyvillians about prefabrication made the speed possible. The Earth ponies and a few others would assemble a large section on the ground. The unicorns led by Twilight would raise the piece into place, and hold it there. Then Earth pony/pegasi teams would drive the nails or turn the screws to attach it securely. Entire buildings would go up in a day, instead of requiring several. Patches took minutes instead of hours. Once they got the bit in their teeth, they ran with the idea.

Of course Sergeant-Major Mile Stone walked around like a proud poppa. More proud that I was smart enough to teach them something, and let them work it out without micro-managing. That left the final touches . . .

---

"How could you?" Rarity holds me in the alley's corner, and shows every intention of driving her glowing horn straight through my chest and into my heart.

"I only mentioned dazzle painting in passing, and I only mentioned it to Rainbow Dash," I explain quickly to the irate unicorn, "I had no idea Pinkamena Diane Pie and Derpy Hooves would paint your shop that way."

"I want it fixed!" she says carefully and emphasizes with a hoof stomp. She glares at me, so I understand my entire future rests on my answer.

"We'll have to give it a coat of dark, gray primer to cover the existing paint, then start over from there."

"Fine," she says, satisfied. She moves back to give me figurative, and literal breathing room.

I decide to take a chance. "You should leave one interior room in that pattern," I suggest.

She stares at me, as if I had been the one threatening to impale her.

I think waking up to find the two or possibly three of them painted her boutique, inside and out, with the garish patterns has pushed the refined mare too far out of her comfort zone, I think as she looks at me in horror, It was originally designed as naval camouflage.

"Why would I ever do that?" she asks, nearly swooning.

I shrug. "Oh, inspiration, a reminder that no matter how badly something fails, people have done worse on purpose," I suggest, "Or as a waiting room for really troublesome customers."

She smiles and laughs at that. "Like your dear friend, Sergeant Mile Stone. I simply do not know what he wants."

"Something simple, comfortable, that could intimidate an enemy into surrendering/negotiating with a good hard look."

She leans back and stares. "Why didn't he say that?"

"Because you two don't speak the same language," an inspiration hits and I get it out before it fades, "Ask Fluttershy's help. She's a wildlife expert. She understands about threat displays. The clothes should say 'no better friend, no worse enemy.' Has he asked for camouflage?"

"Oh goodness, yes. Urban, woodlands, and arctic." She looks at me in confusion. "How does one hide in snow, unless one is solid white?"

"Like I said, ask Fluttershy."

Rarity stares at me. "I think I believe you did come to town to speak with Pinkie Pie," she tells me and saunters off.

Go talk to the paint crew! I think, then spot Twilight staring at Rarity's hideously and insanely striped boutique, the glow from her horn and sigils of the spell visible in broad daylight.

Rarity's shriek as the spell takes effect sends me running.

"Get the paint crew, NOW!" I tell myself.

---

The Mane Six, minus Pinkie, watch as the Apple family's barn goes up. Again prefabricated, and four walls go up against each other. Twilight is saving her strength to place the roof.

"I'll have to ask you all to forgive Pinkamena Diane Pie," I say as I look up from the progress on the roof. The crews are fixing the four walls to each other with practiced ease.

"Pinkie Pie?" Rainbow Dash asks, "What did she do now?"

"Oh, she was doing what she was supposed to be doing. You see Twilight Sparkle, Pinkamena Diane Pie had to keep throwing parties and dragging you to them, to prevent you from concentrating your efforts on the pony space-program. Rainbow Dash could theoretically have been the first pony sent by rocket magic to outer space."

"I coulda flown higher and faster than the Wonderbolts!" Rainbow Dash exclaims, "Pinkie! Why'd she do it?"

I ignore the agitated pegasus' frantic circling, and reply in a calm tone, "The fear was that they'd send someone to the moon, and release Nightmare Moon. Then she'd come back on the return rocket."

"Hold your horses," Applejack interjects, "That makes no sense no how. We freed Princess Luna from Nightmare Moon, months ago. Pinkie is still throwin' parties like crazy. Always has, always will."

"The change in bylaws hasn't made it through the steering committee," Rarity says, "Semicolons must be used properly, on such a momentous document."

"You mean you kept me from being a - space flyer?" Rainbow Dash laments to Rarity, "I thought we were friends!"

Rarity looks offended. "It's not as if I painted your home some hideous color scheme."

Twilight sighs and shakes her head. "I'm going to go check the roof."

"Say what you like about good ole' Twi, she can raise the roof when she wants to," Applejack says as she trots after her.

Rainbow Dash begs, "Rarity, please, please, please tell Pinkie Pie I can be a -"

"Astromare?" Rarity offers, "I shall consider it."

"Is that a yes?"

Fluttershy just stares at me for a moment, then flutters after Twilight and Applejack.

---

"Why does he have to take me seriously!?" Pinkie Pie shouted in frustration as she sat with her friends in Sugarcube Corners. She gripped the straw in her teeth, glared at the wall and blew bubbles in her drink.

"Don't you like that someone appreciates your inventions?" Fluttershy asked quietly, "You seemed happy about it."

Pinkie glanced over at Fluttershy. "I told him I was going to build a moon rocket, and he said to be sure Rainbow Dash got a ride on it."

"Well, I -"

"Then I told him I was going there to solve world hunger," she exclaimed.

Pinkie's hair went flat, and her eyes half closed. "I think that you should check with Princess Luna," she said in a deep monotone, "About the presence or absence of cheese on the moon, before committing so much effort to the endeavor."

Her eyes widened and her hair reinflated to her usual style. "It was a joke, and he acted as if I was serious! Just to test it, I told him my funniest joke!" Pinkie Pie exclaimed.

Then her hair flattened out. "Oh, very droll," she said in a deep voice, "Very droll indeed."

Her hair poofed out. "I told him about adding all the candy canes and flower decals to my flying machine."

Her hair flattened. "I think that would be very good for sales models, but for an engineering unit, plain is better."

Her hair poofed. "I even got his friend to laugh. But not him, I tell a joke and he looks like Twilight reading a book."

Her hair flattened and she stared at the wall. A faint wisp of smoke could be seen rising from where her gaze fell.

"I'm not that bad," Twilight grumped.

"Sugarcube, sometimes you're worse," Applejack said and patted Pinkie on the shoulder, "Maybe you've just ain't got to what he thinks is fun."

"Oh, I know what he thinks is fun!" Pinkie exclaimed, "Work! I leave him with one of the things I just threw together and he's so busy studying it, that his friend has to remind him to eat."

"He isn't ignoring you," Fluttershy pointed out.

"No, he just won't go to any parties, and when I invite him, he acts like he's imposing," she said, "Let's have fun!"

Her hair went flat. "I am having fun Pinkamena Diane Pie."

Her hair poofed. "But you're working all the time!"

" 'The joy of discovery can exceed what any party ever conceived can do. And I appreciate your eccentric genius,'" Applejack said along with Pinkie Pie.

Pinkie stared at Applejack in surprise.

"I heard him say it when I invited him to this little get together. He was out at Sweet Apple Acres, I think he was taking your new 'Diane' out for a fly," Applejack added.

"And that's the other thing!" Pinkie shouted, "Why did he name it after me? And why not name it a 'Pinkie'!?"

Her hair flattened out. "Diane has more gravitas, and sounds like 'dyna' which is movement, and di- means two which can refer to the twin rotors. The inventor gets to name the invention, and you deserve an honored place to cement their recollection in history."

Now her hair stuck straight out. "I don't even like cement! I really don't want it all over my name, and all over history!"

"I think that's not what he meant, dear," Rarity said, and forcibly hid her smile.

"He hasn't made you feel bad, has he?" Fluttershy asked.

"No! He's . . ." Her hair flattened. " . . . been very respectful and encouraging. Praising my ingenuity, my ability to think beyond existing design paradigms, and designing superb manufacturability into even the prototype models." Her hair poofed out. "But where's the FUN!"

"Don't ya'all want to be thought of as somethin' other than 'party, party, party'?" Applejack asked nervously.

Pinkie stared at her. Applejack drew back.

"If I can't have that, and parties too. I - don't - want - it!" Pinkie returned to angrily blowing bubbles in her drink.

Rainbow Dash couldn't help herself. She fell on the floor, hooves waving in the air, laughing.

"And what do you think is so funny?" Pinkie Pie indignantly demanded.

"I think she realizes, he pranked you," Fluttershy said, "Maybe he shouldn't have. You seem hurt."

"Pranked me?" Pinkie asked in confusion.

Twilight quietly explained, "He gave me a stuffed bumblebee, and told me it was a joke I'd never understand. And after a week studying everything I could about bumblebees, stuffed animals and my family tree, I still don't get the joke!" Twilight ended shouting.

"That's the joke!" Rainbow Dash laughed, "You couldn't just leave it alone."

Twilight growled at her friend.

"He had Rainbow Dash convinced that you were preventing Twilight from making her an Astromare," Rarity told her.

"He gave Angel a set of little bagpipes," Fluttershy added, then glanced around nervously, "Uh, he is really good with them."

"I kin think a better ways to scare off bears, but I ain't no bunny," Applejack said.

Pinkie Pie was looking from friend to friend in amazement. "You mean, all the seriousness, 'yes Pinkamena Diane Pie', all the-" Her hair flattened and her eyes half closed. "Was a prank? On me?" She shook her head. "Help! My face got stuck this way!"

Twilight leaned over and whispered in Pinkie's ear.

Pinkie's hair stood straight up and her eyes opened to the size of saucers. "Don't even joke like that!" she exclaimed. Then her expression went back to normal. "Ask Fluttershy, bees are hardworking, they'd never cheat at cards."

Twilight grinned.

"Well, if you want to give him a piece a yur mahnd, he's out at mah farm. That would be the best place, and I reckon all a us should talk ta him," Applejack said.
Mrs. Buzzy
Creation of FiMFlamFilosophy
(in My Little Pony: The (Abridged) Mentally Advantaged Series)

Comments

[MrDenim]

*scratches head* ...wtf is going on???

[NONEshallTell]

3399217 Mathematician's answer; stuff. Second time reading, still good.

[Prismmirror]

Started well, but then...

[Siluriax]

"More like that, than the Queen of the May Not," I reply and nod over to Snooty the Great who is on the receiving end of Hardwood's most patronizing 'I'm here to help' speech. "Have any of you ever heard of a heavier than air flying machine?"
"There isn't one," the griffin says, "An artist came up with pictures of a machine that would fly like a bird, but nobody can build one."

Believe it or not, they have airplane but instead of engines they have tied pegasi. It's shown in one of the mlp comics.

[Vaalintine]

Can't say i'm very fond of how it seems he's still a prisoner of sorts, or that he isn't being allowed freedom. Woukd be much better a relationship if they just decided if he was evil/a threat or not and acted on it, rather than send him on with guards to control him as they put him to use. It just feels like hes still under arrest for being different, and considered bad for it.

[Dan_s Comments]

9919339
He's visibly a kid. So if he needs authority with ponies who don't know him, he needs an adult with authority. So there's a trade-off of appearing under authority versus the illusion of freedom.

[Vaalintine]

9920119
I know he has the body of a foal, that's not the issue. Mile Stone doesn't feel like he is there to be a chaperone, but a watchdog. It feels like the princesses have decided to just use him and put him to work even though they still think he is evil, dangerous, insane, or just not to be trusted. In short, they haven't cleared him of wrongdoing and he is still considered guilty of unspecified crimes. Since hes been totally compliant this is infuriating, he cooperates but still is considered under suspicion and badmouthed.

With him doing everything right and helping out, them never declaring him innocent and just putting him to work for them says that the ponies are utterly terrible. It seems like an abusive relationship that they're just.. okay with, for some reason.

[Dan_s Comments]

9920691
He is a tremendous asset, which would logically require a guard.
Princess Celestia also sees he has an adult self-destructive streak in a child's body, that requires an overseer/counselor.
He appeared beside Discord's statue and he knows too much about the future, which make him an irreplaceable asset and weapon against Discord, see above.

[Theresa]

9922211
Plus most folks are going to see the kid first and the adult mind second if at all.