> My Little Apprentice: Apogee
>  by Starscribe
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1: Predictive Optimization
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

After all the chaos of the last few days, Twilight had expected to return home to the library and find all was as she had left it. After all, she would've sensed it the instant any of her powerful wards was broken, and she had felt no such dread. Her faithful new apprentice would probably be studying, or perhaps scribbling away the day's events in her diary. Nor was Chance alone, since Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom had also been waiting in the library when Twilight had gone to defeat Discord’s forgotten plot..

"I do hope they haven't made too much of a mess. I can only imagine what they must've eaten for dinner."

"If they've got any sense, they let Apple Bloom cook it. She's got mosta' the old Apple Family recipes down by now. All that time cookin' with her granny's really paid off."

"I'll just be glad to see they're okay." Twilight grinned. She was so relieved from their victory that she wasn't feeling all that curious about what had happened with the elements of harmony now; all that interest was banked for the future when everything was settled down. Maybe her apprentice would finally get access to the Jebr Stone, and they could use its vast knowledge to solve the puzzle the Tree of Harmony had given them. It would be just like Celestia to see far enough ahead to predict their latest dilemma early enough to already give her the tools to solve it.

It was abundantly clear that something was wrong before they even reached the library. It wasn't the broken wards, though now that Twilight searched she found some of her protection spells simply weren't there. No; what set her (and her friends) into a dead gallop was the presence of an ambulance parked just outside the doors. She didn't even notice Spike's cry of surprise from her back, or his grip tight around her neck as he clung on for dear life.

The back was already open, and as they got closer, Twilight saw two ponies levitate a stretcher inside. She slid to a stop only feet away, just as they shut the doors on her apprentice. 

The emergency responder made his way towards the front of the wagon, where he would no doubt hitch himself up beside another pony to help gallop the wagon to the hospital as quickly as possible. But Twilight got in his way, her eyes burning with fear and anger. "What happened?" she demanded, in a tone that would brook no argument.

She would never know if it was her confidence alone that won her such a prompt response, or if it was the title her wings represented. She hardly even noticed as Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom emerged from the doorway to greet their sisters, probably to answer the exact question she was demanding of the first responder.

"Got a call that we had a filly unconscious. She's stable, but we weren't able to revive her. We're bringing her to the Ponyville General pediatric unit." Then he stopped. "What's the matter, Princess? Do you know her?"

Twilight nodded, and her answer probably came off with far less kindness than was due of a princess. "That filly is mine; I expect her to receive the finest care." She didn't go into detail, didn't say that Chance was hers only in guardianship, and only because she had been dumped on her by Celestia. She just turned away. "I'll be at the hospital shortly. I expect you to beat me there." She took several deep breaths as she walked past him to the place where two of the Crusaders already stood, with expressions of worry and fear on their faces like what she felt. Had there been nopony here, she probably would’ve skipped the trip and just teleported her apprentice to the hospital.

She didn't even bother listening for what they were already saying, but interrupted by stepping close and clearing her throat. "What happened to Chance?"

If any of her friends were annoyed with her less than ideal behavior, they said nothing about it. Only Applejack moved, to nudge her little sister into speaking. "She just dropped! We were working on cleaning the library for when you got back, an' she said she was feelin' tired and collapsed, just like that."

"Why?"

"We don't know!" Sweetie Belle insisted, her eyes streaked with tears. "Discord was here earlier, and he did something! But that might not've been it."

"The big cube in the basement stabbed her!" Apple Bloom gestured wildly with her hooves. "Like a hospital needle. It could've been that!"

"Is the needle still there?"

They shook their heads. It looked like her friends were about to say something, but Twilight stopped them. "Don't worry about it. It's been a long enough day for you both. We can talk tomorrow. Spike, come on. We're going to the hospital."


* * *


When Twilight made it to the hospital, Chance was having dinner, eating something that pretended to be a vegetable soup from a white plastic bowl. It seemed the quality of hospital food was some sort of universal constant, and she was more than eager for an excuse to do anything besides eat it. Even if she might be about to hear some bad news. 

"Hey, Chance." She levitated something through the air in front of her; Chance’s journal. "Brought this for you. Wanted to see how you were doing.”

Chance's frustration had all faded by now, replaced with a quiet sense of helplessness and desperation. Whatever they decided to do with her now was completely out of her hooves. "Craving iron," she answered honestly. "You think they could get me something with wheat berries in it? Or beats. Beats have iron, right? Ponies don't eat all the other things I can think of that have iron..."

There was a little chair near the bed, and Twilight sat down in it, with a casual conversational attitude. "Such as?"

Chance's stomach turned over at the thought, and for a second she was sure she looked green. Or... greener. She was always green. "You don't want to know." The fact that all the meat Chance had ever eaten had been cultured didn't make her stomach feel any happier about the idea.

"Oh... kay." Twilight's expression became serious as she watched her.

"They're going to try and take it out, aren't they?"

There was a long silence, then Twilight nodded. "Dr. Horse wants to use a topological surgery. He's writing an exclusion spell based on the biopsy they got from your leg last night. It's like a teleport, only... it gets all the bad stuff, but leaves you behind."

Chance felt as though her blood had gone cold. "If they do that, it will kill me. Either that or I'll be a vegetable for life. I hope it just kills me."

Twilight's eyes went wide. "Why would removing a growth from your head kill you? We have to remove it soon, before it strangles your brain! Everything we know about brain chemistry and parasites suggests-"

Chance didn't let her finish. "I thought you would believe me, even if the doctors didn't."

"I believe... I believe you believe it. But your memory hasn't been perfect, Chance! It wouldn't be hard for you to think you remember one thing and really be thinking of another."

"The Neuroboost strain was first prototyped by Robert Moore working for Intel Bioinformatics in 2091. The current strain is the sixth in that line, composed of 30% Silicon, 20% Carbon, 15% Molybdenum, 15% Iron, 10% Hyperstable Thorium, 8% Gold, and 2% trace elements. Individual operating voltage is-"

Twilight raised a hoof. "I get it. You're sure you remember. What makes you think you'll die, though?"

"In the long term, any Nanophage takes over for the patient's adaptive immune system, which means that if someone is abruptly cut off from that they'll be vulnerable to disease. It probably hasn't been long enough for that, so it wouldn't matter if it was a different strain." She gestured to her head. "There are thousands of little tendrils snaking through my brain right now. Making new connections, twisting into every important part. That can't ever be removed, without either killing the patient or making them braindead."

Twilight groaned, sitting back against her seat. "Why did you do this to yourself, Second Chance?"  She got a little quieter, as though she were talking to herself. "Protect an important visitor, it was supposed to be that simple! Why did you do this to yourself?"

"Did Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom tell you the reason I did it?"

That was enough to break her from her muttering. "The Jebr Stone... you woke it up, didn't you? That was where you got the injection."

"Yeah. It happened like this..."


* * *


What do you think it's saying'?" Asked the yellow filly just behind her, as she sat on her haunches and stared at the orderly object in Twilight's basement, made from stronger materials than could be obtained anywhere in Equestria.

Chance opened her mouth to explain, but she did not get a chance. The Core was faster than she was, and it answered first. This time it didn't use English, but perfectly synthesized Equestrian. It was perhaps a tad formal or old-fashioned in its accent, but otherwise it sounded completely ordinary. Impossible to tell apart from a living, breathing speaker. "I was in the process of introducing myself to my user, young earth pony." The surface of the stone lit up, and all the diagnostic messages cleared. "Though I had reached a bit of an impasse in that regard. See, my previous incarnation was 'killed' in the sense that it was rendered irrecoverably damaged, and as I have only just become conscious, my only designation is 'Recovery Backup.' That hardly seems a fitting introduction."

"Yeah, it's talking." Sweetie Belle looked between the cube and her friend, as though in the association she might see the answer. "Your people made it, Chance. Why is it talking?"

"They usually talk." Chance faced the Core, looking up at it into what she imagined must be its face. Her friends had started backing away, fearful again. A magical device that made weird noises was one thing, but one that talked to them in Equestrian was quite another. If it could talk, what else could it do? 

It was impossible to assign the speaker a gender; it was both and neither in tone. That would change, Chance knew. Every moment of its activation the machine would continue bootstrapping its way towards being more human. Eventually it would surpass its creators intelligence and wisdom, but not yet.

Chance found her training returning, as she tried to remember what she had to do to make sure the Core developed in a favorable way. Each and every one had the Laws of Robotics, but how they interpreted them was based on their first few experiences more than anything else. It was hard to focus on something so important and delicate after the stress she had been in today. All Chance wanted to do was curl up and cry herself to sleep. But she couldn't neglect the Core's teaching! 

As strange as it was to think about, the Core was the only other "human" in this world with her. A human-like mind, in any case, with all the knowledge and experience of her species. It would feel like a stranger here, just like she did sometimes. She couldn't ruin an opportunity for what might otherwise be a very rewarding friendship. Besides, she had been great friends with the Core back on Luna-7. She could be friends with this one too.

"OMICRON Core." She spoke in English, and tried to smile despite how worn-out she was. "Can you accept commands in the native language, so that I don't have to use English?"

If it had sounded playful when speaking to the other fillies, there was no trace of that when it spoke to Chance. When it answered, it was in formal English. "Affirmative, Dr. Kimberly Colven."

"Good." She stopped muddling through her mispronunciation of her native tongue, which felt too much like keeping secrets for her taste. If she was going to be down here with her friends, than there was no reason they couldn't hear it too. That could be one of the first lessons it learned from her. "Then start using Equestrian from now on, so everypony can understand."

"Affirmative, Dr. Kimberly Colven."

"And my local designation is 'Second Chance'. You can use that, or just 'Chance' for short. Names work differently in Equestria, so I think you should have an Equestrian designation too. If that's okay with you." This was the first lesson she had learned from Luna-7. Whatever the Cores might really be, they seemed to like it when you treated them like they were living, breathing beings. At least the one up there had. She had never fully understood its feelings on the matter "I would like to call you 'Truth.' Is that acceptable?"

"You're giving it a name?" Sweetie Belle looked as though she were calming down a little. It was hard not to appreciate that level of courage. Not only had she faced down a mad god today, not only had she watched her town be torn apart by alien flora, but she was communicating with an AI from another universe. "Why?"

The Core had not yet responded to her. It was probably as eager for the answer to that question as Sweetie Belle was. She was, after all, it's only user. The only "human" it knew of. It was programmed to seek information from humans, and to learn from them. Everything she said would shape its developing universe. "Because this machine is alive." Chance answered. "And all living things deserve respect." She looked back. "May I call you Truth? It's after the local naming traditions, so it might sound a little strange. I promise it's a very pretty name."

There was a pause. When the Core finally answered, it sounded different. There was something new in its synthesized voice. Respect. "Designation 'Truth' accepted. Chance, what are your instructions?"

She considered that a moment. After all, she did have a mission. A mission only Discord's mental invasion had helped her remember. But she was also exhausted, mentally and physically. Just because she knew she had been sent to somehow save her planet did not mean that she had the energy to do so today. One more day was not going to change things back home. The bunkers had nuclear batteries, and could keep recycling waste for centuries so long as their populations remained constant. There was enough time to make sure that whatever they attempted was successful.

"The first thing we have to worry about is power. The generator isn't running upstairs, and that can't be good. How much energy do you have left?"

"Not much." As though Chance needed any further confirmation she was speaking with a true AI and not merely something simulating human intelligence. Abstraction was a fairly advanced concept, and this program had already mastered it. "Draining. I am not running as efficiently as I should be. There is significant internal damage."

She nodded. "Do you have enough power to manufacture anything?"

Another brief pause. "I don't think so. Perhaps a single dose of Nanophage, but not more."

"Okay. Do you have specifications for the Neuroboost standard injection used by the engineering corps?"

"I do, Chance. I have every manufacturing pattern used by the United Earth Federation until the day of my deployment."

"I look forward to learning about it. For the moment though, prepare the Neuroboost. Do you know what it will do to pony physiology?"

A slight hum emanated from within the core for a moment, the sound of its internal components working to prepare the injection. "I have sensor records that indicate its performance will be unhindered. The Neuroboost platform is adaptive. Unfortunately, it will not be possible to manufacture boosters so that the age-mitigation routines may operate normally. I currently lack the power to produce more than one dose safely."

Chance was about to answer, when a gentle nudge from Sweetie Belle distracted her, and she looked to her friend, who had been silent for that brief part of her conversation. "What are you doin' Chance? What's a nano-page, and why are you gonna inject it?" She looked a little upset, or at least nervous. Chance couldn't say she blamed her.

"It's no big deal, Sweetie Belle." She said, trying to ease her friend's fears. After all, she had recently learned that Chance was from another world. Learned in the very worst way, to have someone like Discord force the issue. Now she was about to do something clearly alien right in front of them. "It's a tool to help me repair Truth, now that it is awake. It's a telepathy spell, but for machines!" Of course Neuroboost Nanophage did about a million other things, but there was no need to go into detail about that. Not yet, anyway. "Ready, Truth?"

"Yes." The surface of the cube began to ripple and shift, and a sharp prong took shape, with about an ounce of silvery fluid visible under a metallic surface so thin it was transparent.

Her friends retreated a pace from what probably appeared to them like some sort of weapon. Chance hated needles, but there was no way she could show any fear now. Not after she had asked Truth to use some portion of its precious energy stores to make this for her. Before her friends could protest, she advanced, and pressed the soft inside of one foreleg to the needle. It stung, and she inhaled sharply and shivered all over as the feeling of burning cold coursed suddenly into her leg. She waited until the needle withdrew into the cube before she pulled back, holding her leg up for several seconds before putting her weight on it.

She must've found an artery by pure chance, because the feeling of strange weight under her skin faded in a matter of seconds, which never happened when you missed and the little machines had to worm their way through capillaries only barely wide enough to permit them. Also, there was no disgusting bulge under her leg, which also happened when you missed. "There!" She glanced once over her shoulder, a little frightened of what the Crusaders were probably thinking. They looked a little shaken, but she could hardly blame them.

"Remember when I told you about the tiny doctors?" She smiled, trying to dismiss the strangeness of the situation as quickly as possible. "Watch. Now that I've got them, I'll never get sick again." That wasn't strictly true, since she doubted whatever sensor data Truth had accumulated (how did it know how Nanophages affected ponies anyway?) did not include a comprehensive database of pony diseases. Hers could begin gathering that data. It would probably take them a few weeks to integrate with her body, but once they did, they would be able to identify when anything caused her harm, eradicate it, and repair the damage. Those with broad-spectrum nanophage like her could only ever get the equivalent of a mild cold for a day or two, which was the universal response to any unknown disease.

Or so she hoped. "That's weird." Apple Bloom said, breaking the silence. "But you were always a little weird. Guess it makes sense you wouldn't want ta' get sick, but..."

"Like telepathy for machines, huh?" Sweetie Belle asked, her voice growing suddenly a little faster, and more excited. Chance didn't like that voice at all, since it was the way she always sounded when she was about to propose a very stupid plan. "Can I have some?"

She shook her head at once. "N-not now, Sweetie Belle. Truth can't make anymore. And when it can, we'll have to ask your sister. I dunno if Rarity would be too happy about this." Nor would all of Equestria. Chance realized with sudden horror that there were ethical ramifications to this technology if she could get Truth fully operational. How many pony lives could be saved by a universal treatment of all disease? How many ponies were there in Equestrian hospitals right now who would die because pony science couldn't treat their diseases?

Not nearly as many as Earth had back when they had pony-level technology, thanks to the wonders of Equestrian magic. But there was still sickness. There were still disabilities that magic could not heal. Magic couldn't, but with enough information the Nanophage probably could.

Just one OMICRON Core was not sufficient to produce Nanophage for an entire nation. It would take a supporting infrastructure of enormous size and complexity... she didn't like where this thought was going. A primitive society simply could not support technology like this. The only way for Equestria to have it on a universal scale was for Equestria to be fundamentally altered. Chance had no right to make decisions like that. That was for the princesses. She would have to have a very serious conversation with Twilight about this when things had settled down, so she could let Celestia know.

But there was no time to waste worried about this now, not when Truth had such limited power supplies. She wasn't sure how the Core would interpret this command. But she didn't see any way around it. It wasn't as though there was any coal left in the generator, and it would likely take months or even years of sustained operation to give the thing any significant amount of energy to work with. "Truth, I need you to enter power-saving mode. I will figure out how to get you more power. You can reactivate as soon as you have a stable power source."

"I understand." The voice sounded somewhat fearful. "I will 'sleep', Chance. Don't forget to wake me." The lights on the surface of the Core began to dim, one by one. Eventually the glow had vanished altogether, leaving the stone apparently dead and inert once more.

"Well that was weird." Apple Bloom said, sitting down on her haunches and sighing. "Ah wonder what Scootaloo will think about all this."

"I wonder what Twilight will think about it." Chance echoed, then joined her friends to wait out the rest of the night. She had full faith that her teacher would fix everything. All they had to do was hide long enough, and everything would get better.


* * *


The sky above Imperium Gloria was never dark. Even in the night, the stars were brilliant and the moon so vivid that streetlights were never required. Under the watchful rulership of mankind's glorious king every soul shone as brightly as the stars, each a light of creation and discovery at the perfect climax of every human innovation.

Brigid Curie was one of the many billion that had never even noticed the end of the world. She had never known hunger, never known fear, and not aged a day since she had turned eleven.

Brigid lived in a castle she had built herself, a castle that rested in the expensive Purity District and stood easily at a height with the skyscrapers and crystalline spirals that were her next door neighbors. Palatial ballrooms flowed smoothly into libraries and galleries that even Louis the Fourteenth would've considered decadent. Let none say humanity did not give proper glory to its greatest minds.

Brigid had sacrificed everything on the altar of her work, which was why she had chosen not to get any older. Bree had never sacrificed the flexibility of a developing brain, nor had she ever matured enough to desire intimacy. Romance was a distraction, and love was deception. That did not mean she couldn't accomplish her work in the greatest comfort, surrounded by Earth's greatest treasures.

Bree never walked; her lithe body danced through her castle, leaping over fountains and sliding down railings with the reckless abandon of one who knows she cannot be harmed. Her gown of royal purple and silver was far shorter than the present style, with slits that ensured stiff fabric would bend and twist so she would never be restricted. Where her legs and bare feet emerged, they were pale and splotched with freckles, her face like the daughter of old Etain. Her hair was like fire up from sidhe, and burned almost as bright as her intellect.

As she ran, the structure shifted. Entire wings crumbled away, while new ones rose up from nothing to take their place. She made her way to the grand gate through a hall of fresh bloomed flowers. A crown of snowdrops waited for her in a field of fresh grass, still sweet with the perfume of hawthorne. No thorn scratched her or tore at her gown, though thorns there were many. She donned the crown with an imperceptible flick of her head, and the green of its leaves were matched only by the spring that shone from her eyes.

When she reached the massive oak door, she did not bother opening it. One wave and it was gone, allowing her an unimpeded view of her visitor.

Brigid bowed her respect, a single elegant flow she had practiced many times. Her young body meant she could look particularly humble without much strain, though she didn't stay down long. No matter how illustrious the visitor, this was still her house. "Esteemed Scholar, it is a pleasure to make you welcome in my house." Bree's voice sung with the music of the Eun Sith, with all the height of a child's but none of the awkwardness. It was melodious, every word its own song.

Her visitor was much that she was not; masculine, tall, and strong. His skin was olive, his hair thick and dark like his eyes. His robes were as square and regular as the great Tower they symbolized. Was he the sort of man women swooned over? Bree neither knew nor cared. That did not mean she wasn't excited to receive such an important visitor, however. 

"I am received with honor," he replied, his voice easily three octaves deeper. 

Was it wrong of Bree to think that indicated a mind similarly slow? "I was not aware you had returned; it is an unexpected joy to see you again beneath the skies of Imperium." She stepped back, allowing him to step past her. When he had moved inside, she summoned back the door, though this one was carved of unmelting ice instead of wood, and a chill fog began to seep down from it, rolling past their feet and turning the room of spring to winter. Soon the only green in the room rested on her head. "Have you come to see my work? Or do you bring a labor of your own?"

Her visitor inclined his head politely towards a hallway carpeted with snow, the one that led up instead of down. "I have little time; you will understand soon. Somewhere quiet and private to talk, and a few minutes of your time is all I ask."

"Both are yours."

Bree knew her visitor well, since he was the one who had brought her into the Technocratic Order in the first place. As many of those who fled Underhill for the world Above, his taste for fairy food and fairy drink never faded. She led him to a cozy dining hall, with a single round table of onyx stone and a score of floating candles that didn't drop wax (she had stolen the idea from some of her favorite books, but she was fairly sure her visitor wouldn't know enough to call her on it).

"I know better than to offer you a boar." A servant who looked exactly like her drew out their chairs for them. The servant had dead eyes, and wore only a plain suit. Bree refused to allow any to serve her but herself, though she had stretched the rules on what "self" meant more than a little. "Roast vegetables for the vegetarian, perhaps? Scotch and soda to drink?"

He nodded gratefully. "Stimulant to thought, speech and physical exertion. Half a glass and no more."

In the way of things Underhill, time twisted and swam and her visitor's meal was set before him by silent servants. Unlike her visitor, Bree felt no fondness for the upper world and its food, so she neither ate nor drank. Instead she watched, drawing sculptures of ice with her fingers.

"How closely have you been following events in the Tower?"

Brigid shrugged, reclining on a soft chair of stone. "Close enough to gather something has changed. A dozen requests for stronger drones. Permission to use hyperstable exotic matter instead of aluminum and plastic. Swarm intelligence, and non-deterministic processing for a human host intelligence." She shook her head. "Expensive. I suspected we were planning an invasion of the Luna facilities, except none of my friends in rocketry have been asked to build delivery systems since the Great War." She leaned towards him, brushing a few strands of red away from her eyes with a flick. "Very interesting. The structural requirements on the last design you requested were positively inhuman. Temperature from .3k-1.2Mk. Structural integrity retention for varied-load pressures of 150,000,000 PSI. It sounded to me like you were planning on sabotage. A drone for a G8 thorium reactor, perhaps?"

Her guest smiled through his carrots and roasted vegetables. Bree hadn't eaten in many years, and looked away from the sight of bits of half-chewed food in complete disgust. She could still hear well enough though. "Those are some excellent theories, but they're all completely wrong." He swirled the scotch around in the glass, taking it in small sips. "It would be inconsiderate to make you guess; and you would never get it anyway."

With a gesture, her guest banished the contents of the table to oblivion, and conjured a display unit into the wood. Of course no ordinary guest could change anything about her home; but Tesla had administrator authority. If he wanted, he could remake the world.

"How much do you know about the Avalon experiments?"

"Heavy stuff. Extra-dimensional quantum tunneling using the Schrodinger Effect. Their research led to the Luna-Prime antimatter reactor before the colony went nuclear." Even though she had not made it, the display curved to her will. A photograph of the moon appeared, focused in on the dark miles that had been Avalon Research Colony. It was all black now, melted slag complete with huge troughs and canyons where all the underground tunnels had apparently been ripped right out of the moon. The explosion had been so complete that no wreckage had ever been discovered. "Their research never went anywhere else; apparently finding a universe composed of matter was harder than finding one made of antimatter. There was some speculation about attraction in the multiverse bubble, but none of that was my discipline."

Tesla shook his head. “Unfortunately, you’re right. The research didn’t go anywhere. Not until after the war. The Luna-7 facility found copies of their files on a derelict backup satellite and started recreating the Rift experiments."

For a moment, Brigid's grace faltered and her mouth hung open in shock. "You mean-"

He nodded. "A semistable Hawking Rift leading to a matter universe, with identical laws. The drones you've been designing were for exploring it."

She spent a moment to collect herself. "I think I know what your visit is about." She gestured, and a thick tome with a green cover appeared on the table between them. It's title, With One Drone: Remake the World, and Brigid Curie as its author. It was one of her earlier books, written less than a year after the end of the Great War. She had considered it a failure, largely because the Tower had never implemented any of the plans she made. Nevermind that they were superior in every way to the Tower's existing reconstruction plan.

"You were always perceptive, young Bree. You are exactly correct. We wish to implement your plan on the world beyond the Rift, and we want you to be the one to carry it out."

Brigid looked away, through the window at her side and the swirling galaxies that twisted and danced about them. "You want me to leave Imperium? Is it an order or a request?"

"A request and an opportunity."

Brigid was quiet then, running her fingers over the harsh stone. She felt the polished surface, and the chill. "Here I am lady of a great house. Here I am respected and my work is important. If I went Above, I would be alone. Unless the Federation has already sent adversaries for me. Either way, it's hardly a tempting opportunity."

"Not alone." Tesla gestured, and the projection of numerous drones appeared on the table. "We've got the hardware to send you one companion. I would suggest a pilot or a soldier. But knowing you, you'll probably just use the space for a Fork."

Brigid thought about that for a moment, considering the dozens of shallow copies of herself she used to accomplish various menial tasks around the castle, and the hundreds she had out in Imperium teaching or sending messages or gathering information. Brigid had mastered the shallow copy that was the Forking process nearly as early as it had been perfected. Why depend on someone else to do something when you could do it yourself? And a thousand other things.

"In any case, the planet isn't empty. So far as we can tell, the Federation don't have anyone on the ground yet. We think they might have a few drones, but not enough that their EM would make it back to the Rift. No, the world is already inhabited, by an advanced alien race."

"What?"

He nodded, and removed a heavily encrypted file from his robe. With a word the encryption faded, and he slid the file into the projector. It began to play at once.

It was a two-dimensional recording, from the security camera in a building somewhere. The camera was focused entirely on the image of a... Horse? It was hard to say exactly what it was. The proportions looked all wrong, and she clearly had a horn. She looked weak, as though she could barely stay on her hooves. The poor creature wasn't quite half as tall as the human sitting in a large chair near her.

The man was Richard, great king of all mankind. He was not speaking English, yet subtitles appeared beneath him so she didn't have to wonder what he might be saying. "Are you sure there is nothing we could do for you? Our doctors are adroit. And we would expect nothing in return. I have no doubt they could treat you."

"No." The alien spoke, its voice possessed of strange equine patterns. Yet even without the translation it was easy to tell the sound for speech and not mere noise. There was an order to it, a regularity not found in the calls of beasts. "The magic of my world is missing. It is frightening, but I will survive a day. Until the spell returns to take me back."

"Take you where?"

"To Equestria. It is a young place, and a hard place, but it is mine."

"There are more..." Pause. "There are more like you there. More... Unicorns?"

She nodded. That gesture at least seemed to be universal. "More of all the tribes; Unicorns and Pegasi and Earth Ponies together, under one banner. We have much in common, yet you would not believe how difficult it was to bring them together. Many died needlessly. Is your world a kinder place? It must be, to have built such cities."

The recording ended. Bree didn't get to object, because the next one began playing immediately. This one showed footage from a drone camera in flight. She saw trees first, then, in the distance, a bright little village like something out of history. Only it was far too colorful to have come out of any human past. Further, most human villages didn't have hundreds of tiny horses moving about, each more colorful than the last. The drone passed over the village by night and flew on, passing over a massive hydroelectric dam and continuing on towards a glittering palace on a mountain, its craftsmanship as fine as anything in the Tower.

Tesla reached his hand into the table, and drew up the file into his fingers, setting it down on the surface a few inches from her. There it sat, a little spiral of data glowing faintly green. "Everything we know about the planet is in there, along with everything we've learned about the natives."

"They're adorable." Brigid didn't feel like the lady of a great house, not now. Suddenly she felt like the little girl she had never exactly stopped being. "They rule a whole planet?"

He shrugged, disdain in his eyes. "If you could call what they do with the planet ruling it. Before you get too excited, you can't conquer them. Richard has explicitly forbidden any undue contact. As hard as it might be to believe, they understand Hawking Rifts. They found us before we found them, and they could seal the Rift if they wanted."

She recoiled, eyes wide as she stared. "Conquer? You thought I-" She shook her head vigorously. "Our king is wise. You said I could choose a companion?" She rose to her feet. "What would my mission be?"

Tesla rose, folding his arms and smiling. "I knew you were the perfect candidate. As for your assignment, it's all in the file. There's a transmission key for the king in there; all your questions go straight to him." He thrust his hand towards her. "Can I tell him you've taken the assignment?"

She nodded, taking his hand in the grip of her cool fingers. It felt a little like putting her hand in the mouth of a gigantic spider, his hand slim but with a grip like a vice. And in a way, perhaps she had. It would be even harder to escape a deal made with Lord Tesla of the Technocratic Order. "I haven't seen anything that cute in my life, I don't think I could've said no." She glanced back at the table, where the file still glowed. "Besides, I've never seen anything in Imperium with encryption that high. You would've scrubbed me if I refused."

Tesla released her hand, but only after squeezing it hard enough to make it burn from the pressure and turn purple where his fingers had gripped her. He laughed, but it was laughter colder than all the ice in her castle. "I knew that wouldn't be necessary. You haven't ever disappointed me, Brigid. I know I won't be disappointed now." He gestured, and vanished without a sound, probably gone back Above.

Bree didn't care. She reached out, took the file he had brought in one hand, and started skipping through her halls towards her bedroom. It was time to pack for the beach.

> Chapter 2: Isolation Strain
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chance finished her story about the time when the orderlies took her half-eaten soup away, much to her relief. It wasn't as though the smell was doing anything other then make her vaguely sick, anyway. "You know the rest."

Twilight nodded. "I think I may be able to get them to suspend treatment for a day. Long enough to see if it does improve, like you said. But..." She sighed. "If I do that, it's going to make life difficult on us both for the next few days."

"Difficult on... both of us? Are you gonna get in trouble?"

Twilight nodded. "Telling a doctor not to treat you when he's given such a strong recommendations would be impossible if I wasn't a princess. If I do, it's going to start rumors, and we can count on a few complaints being filed about it. And if you're wrong, and the infection does kill you, then... then I'll be responsible"

Chance gulped. It wasn't as though she was even a little unsure about the safety of the Nanophage. Yet, the fact that Twilight was going to suffer for it almost made her reconsider. 

"I... You don't have to do that, Twilight. Putting yourself at risk that way... Maybe I can just run away! How much time does it take to learn how to teleport? Could you teach me right now? Then I can escape when everypony goes to bed, hide somewhere until it gets better..."

Twilight shook her head. "I'm afraid it takes more than a few minutes to learn." She rose to her hooves again, her face grim. "If doing the surgery is really going to kill you, then I don't have a choice. Celestia appointed me to care for you, and that is exactly what I intend to do." Chance opened her mouth to argue again, but Twilight silenced her. "It's going to be hard on you too, maybe worse. They're going to wonder if you've been mistreated. I've already written to Celestia to send the court psychologist, since after everything you said earlier it seemed like they were going to want to look into that no matter what."

"W-why would... Why would that matter?" Chance did not like the idea of being examined for abuse that certainly hadn't taken place... at least not since she had arrived in Equestria. Her life before had been awful enough, but no more than any other child in her world.

"Because from what I've seen of psychologists, most of them use truth spells. With someone from the court, you can be honest and not worry about frightening ponies. Your world’s contact with Equestria isn't public knowledge, and we would like to keep it that way."

Chance whimpered. "I'm... sorry I ruined everything." Was she crying? She didn't want to cry, not now! "I'll... understand if you don't want to deal with me, when all this is over. I'd want to get rid of me too if I caused so much trouble. I ruined everything just so I could program again..."

Twilight froze in the doorway, looking down at her. Then, without warning, she rushed over and embraced her, her own voice cracking a little. "Chance, I'm not going to get rid of you. If anything, that's what I'm most afraid of." She drew herself up again. "Don't worry. I'm going to explain everything to Princess Celestia. She'll straighten it all out. Just... until she does, you're gonna be on your own in here." She pushed the journal towards her, careful not to knock over the quill.

Chance forced a smile. "When I get out, how about we invent a better quill? No more inkwells... we'll make millions."

Twilight returned her smile. "Sure, Chance. That sounds great. I'll be back before you know it." She hurried out the door, clicking it securely behind her. Even so, Chance didn't feel nearly as alone as she had before.


* * *


"I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to get in to see you. Procedure required me to speak with the doctors and your guardian first, and that meant a long wait for you. I'm sorry you had to be stuck in here all alone."

Chance blinked, realizing for the first time that she wasn't alone in the falsely friendly room. She quickly took stock of the pony that had joined her; a soft blue unicorn with a vaguely pinkish mane and a cutie mark like a smiling heart.

"I'm Swift Healer, from the Canterlot Regional Hospital. Your name is Second Chance, isn't it?"

Chance nodded. "Ever since I've been in this world, it has been. It was something else before, but I don't like thinking about it." No sooner were the words out of her mouth than she wanted them back. "I don't know why I keep saying more than I want to, but I don't like it!"

Swift Healer shut the door behind her, pulling up the only chair from the corner and sitting down. A clipboard hovered through the air behind her, levitating its way into her lap. It was then Chance noticed what the clipboard concealed; her journal! Her journal which, aside from the latest few entries, was written entirely in English.

"No, it's scarcely fair," Healer said, sounding sympathetic. "I don't at all approve of the technique, especially with foals. Unfortunately it has proven to be quite effective when it comes to rehabilitation, so we're both stuck with it." She lifted a pencil from her clipboard. "You're feeling the effects of a truth spell, Chance. One set right into the foundation and carefully charged whenever a patient is using this room."

"Oh." She sighed. "That's a pretty rotten thing to do to children."

Healer nodded. "But given the stories you told yesterday, it seemed necessary." She sighed. "Deception is a well-understood defense-mechanism in foals and adults both."

"I did not lie." Chance insisted, forcing anger to take the place of pain. "I told the doctors I would be fine after a little rest, and I was right. I was right about being immune to most of the primitive drugs they tried to give me."

"But not immune to truth spells, I notice." Healer slid her chair a little closer. "This is good. It means we're on equal terms." In the glow of magic, Chance's diary lifted into the air, and opened to one of the later pages. This particular day contained notes she had made after perfecting levitation but before she had started writing in Equestrian. It was quite the transformation from some of her earlier sections, which had also been in English but had also been written in huge irregular letters with sloped lines and thick inkspots.

"Did you write this?" 

Chance nodded. 

"What language is it?"

"English, though in the last few years before my departure it was sometimes called 'Federation Common.' It was my native language before I got to Equestria."

She turned the page, to the doodles Chance had made in class of the insides of engines and the bits of technical description. Levitation meant the drawing looked nearly as good as something machine-printed, and she was certain it was technically accurate. "And you drew this too?"

Again she nodded. "I thought I could do better than the contractors Twilight hired to make our generator. Pretty sure I did."

"Twilight makes you spend all your time this way?"

"No!" Chance glared up at the doctor. "Twilight expects me to work hard, but she's never forced me to do anything!"

"Then you must be a genius for a filly your age, because your code is indecipherable."

"It's not a code; last I checked, every living Federation Citizen spoke it. English." She switched to her English, and continued on, knowing full well she wouldn't understand, but hoping at least her pronunciation sounded consistent. "Words are pale shadows of forgotten names. As names have power, words have power. Words can light fires in the minds of men. Words can wring tears from the hardest hearts."

"I am beginning to understand why the doctors were wrong about your diagnosis, and why you were entrusted to the care of a princess." Healer rifled the pages of her journal once more, then set it down on the table beside her. "What are you?"

Chance tried to answer the question several times, but she found that in each case the words refused to come. Eventually she settled on the only thing the spells seemed to allow her to say. "I don't know. I am a young pony named Second Chance, Apprentice to Twilight. Yet... I'm also older. I traveled through the void between worlds, where time becomes circumscribed upon itself and stretches into infinity. Before that I was something else; the last hope of a great people."

"You really believe all this." It wasn't a question, nor was the way Healer slid her chair back a little. "It is frightening that there is evidence to support what you say." She scribbled something on her clipboard, and said nothing for several moments. "Tell me about your relationship with Princess Twilight. You've been living with her for nearly two months, right?"

Chance nodded, and the serious expression fled from her face. Like any child, she was eager to brag about her family. "Oh, Twilight's absolutely wonderful. I was pretty awful when I first got here; was tripping over my own hooves and couldn't read a word of Equestrian." She shrugged towards the journal on the table. "You probably gathered that reading my diary. If you read the later sections, you'll see I still had to use English to represent the big words. Annnnnyway, Twilight was super patient with me. She offered to let me be her apprentice, and I thought that was pretty much the most awesome thing in the whole world!"

"And what do you do as her apprentice? Do you work hard?"

Chance nodded. "Nopony ever had to watch me to make sure I worked hard. It's important to me to be able to be a functioning member of pony society. I have lots to catch up on. I still don't know your history, and I'm not writing at my grade level yet." She paused, then looked a little confused. "You... have grade levels, right?"

Healer nodded, her pencil scratching away. "So that. And maybe I haven't been happy with everything she did, but I've always agreed with her by the end. Sending me to school seemed like a waste, but I made some of the neatest friends and she was right about having a teacher being more effective than reading books alone. She's good with other stuff, too. Early on, I was having nightmares a lot. She was always there for me."

"Nightmares. You mean like last night?"

She nodded, retreating a little on the hospital bed, her face growing more fearful. Chance hated this spell, and she knew it was going to make her say things she didn't want to, not even to Twilight.

"Tell me about them. It can't have much to do with you being a pony; a sweet little filly like you shouldn't have anything to have nightmares about."

Chance tried to fight the spell, to hold her concentration in the trance Twilight had taught her was ideal for thaumic working. Would that make her more resistant to the effects of the room? In any case, her headache permitted no such easy manipulation, so she would never know. "I usually have nightmares when I remember things. Things I want to forget. You would want to forget too if you had seen the things I have."

There was another long silence, broken only by the scratching of the pencil. "Which memories are giving you nightmares?" She didn't look like she particularly wanted to know the answer.

That was all well and good with Chance, since she didn't want to give it. How could she answer that wouldn't make her sound more insane than she already must? The spell all around her did not permit such conscious selection of truth, and she found the answer spilling from her mouth completely against her will. "Watching my family die."

Chance couldn't see how fast the pencil was moving now through her tears, nor could she hear it.

Some time passed, it was hard to say exactly how much. Healer stopped asking questions, though she didn't offer any physical comfort as Twilight or Spike might've done. Did it take her mere minutes to recover, or hours? She didn't know.

She didn't leave her alone in the interim, and when Chance finally stopped crying, those eyes were still watching her. "That's an awful thing for anypony to go through," she said, as though there had been no pause. "I think pain and grieving are natural, maybe even a few nightmares."

Swift Healer rose suddenly to her hooves, stretching and sighing like a pony casting off an enormous burden. "They didn't have a clue what was going on with you." She lifted her clipboard closer to her face, flipping through a few of the scribblings she had made there. "You've suffered through more than most. I've already spoken with your friends about your health. Absurd to even suggest Princess Twilight would have been a less than adequate guardian."

"So you're saying..." Chance sniffed, spent a few moments concentrating, then tried again. "She isn't going to get in trouble?"

Healer smiled. "I very much doubt it. She was given an enormous responsibility; to care for a contradiction. I believe she has done more than excellent under the circumstances. As for you, I would suggest avoiding... whatever it was you did to yourself. Don't do that again. It made lots of ponies worry about you unnecessarily."

Chance nodded. "I'll be more careful."


* * *


Chance had heard once that you never knew what you had until you lost it. The child Kimberly had surely not known all the blessings she had simply by living on her homeworld, and hadn't come to appreciate them until she had been banished up the gravity well never to return.

Yet for all that, she had not appreciated until that moment how much she cared about her new (albeit strange) Equestrian family. There was another night in the hospital, and another day of dreadful tests and interviews. She answered every question honestly (not that she had a choice), and waited patiently for the moment of her release.

She met them in the hallway, Twilight Sparkle and Spike both, and embraced them with all the relief and energy of one who has survived a great disaster. In truth she did not feel entirely like the disaster was over. It wasn't as though the memories Discord had dredged up would simply go away. Her second night in the hospital had ended with more screaming. Yet she wasn't worried. She was going home now.

"So, how you feelin'?" Spike asked, eying the various incisions all over her body. Incisions born of her numerous tests. Yet through them all, her health had only improved. Her performance on the cognitive tests had destroyed every expectation for the mental degradation inflicted by such a practice. "Twilight said things were gonna be pretty rough."

Chance whimpered in spite of herself. "I think now I understand why my older sister never had good things to say about seeing the doctor." She looked to Twilight, afraid of what she might see in her eyes. But if she had expected anger, or frustration, or contempt, she did not find it. It was love she saw reflected there, love and concern for her. It was almost enough to make her cry again.

"I think all of us have learned some important lessons." Twilight broke away, and led her from the lobby. Chance was only too happy to follow. Soon enough Spike was riding on her back, and Chance trotted along beside. She had no trouble keeping up, not the way she might have a few months ago.

"I think somebody ought to warn you," Spike said casually. "Some mutual friends have been trying for their party planning cutie marks all day, if you know what I mean."

"Any luck?"

Twilight giggled, but it was Spike who answered. "Turns out even Pinkie Pie can get frustrated if you push her far enough." Then he lowered his voice, leaning a little closer to her. "If you drink the punch, you might die."

Chance giggled in spite of herself, though part of that might have just been relief to be stepping out of the hospital and onto a dirt road. The air felt fantastic in her mane, the smells of grass and trees returning to her like old friends. She felt better already. There seemed no rush back to the library, and Chance reveled in it. Ponyville's citizens were out and about, buying and selling and laughing together.

Had life on Luna-7 ever been this good? Chance tried to remember.

Vision and dream twisted together in the chill of spring air, and Kimberly sat beneath the electric lights under a ceiling of glass. A dozen other students sat beside her, each at a desk. The air before each burned with holographic projections. She could remember what it was like to have spidery fingers again instead of clumsy hooves, and without magic her limbs danced through the projection.

Though some beside her were too confused to know what to do, she never hesitated. Functioning software grew up from nothing with the elegant twists of a child's hands through the air, assembling the disparate elements without once slowing down. The thrill of creation grew in her as she neared the completion of her program, tracing the invisible lines of light yet unknown.

One by one her fellow students departed, most in low spirits after the difficulty of the exam. Kimberly didn't feel sore on the metal bench, didn't even notice as she was eventually the only student left.

A tall, male figure appeared in the surface above the desks. "You finished the test three hours ago, Kimmy," he said, his voice echoing around a room that was now mostly empty. "You know you're free for the rest of the day. You should get out and do something!"

Kimberly was built like all the other children of Luna, stretched taller and thinner than an earthbound child. Her dark hair hung to her shoulders in the current style for children, though it clung in mosey clumps that resisted untangling with the determination of industrial nanofibers. She wore a child's jumpsuit, which like all such jumpsuits was poorly tailored for the proportions of a child raised in space.

She ignored the voice of the projection, at least until he froze her display and stepped into it, shrinking down as he did to fit on the child's desk. "Go be an organic for a few hours."

The gray-eyed girl squinted at the screen for a few seconds, and seemed to blink a film from her eyes. "I'm almost done," she protested, her fingers resting in the holospace where she wanted them to move next. "Two more hours, and this compression will be better than any in the textbooks."

The figure nodded. "Your program isn't going anywhere." He waved his hands through the display, and it all faded away. Only the figure and a slowly spinning projection of the earth remained, the default welcome screen. "But you are. I called your sister, and assigned you both two hours on VR. I'm not letting you touch another desk until you've cooled down."

"You're the worst, Dante." Kimberly folded her arms and glared at the projection, in the way that sometimes moved adults to adjust their opinions. Maybe it worked on adults, but it never worked on Dante. He was, after all, an OMICRON Core. "I want to help! I can't help in VR!"

"Physician, heal thyself," replied Dante, though he was smiling. "You are an immature asset, Kimmy. If you are not nurtured properly, you will not mature correctly and your future productivity will be significantly hampered. Nobody expects you to be productive for another decade at least. Use this time while it lasts."

She groaned. When that failed to elicit a response, she bounced to her feet, floating nearly a foot up into the air before she sunk back down, in a standing position now. "Whatever, jerk."

"That's not what I would say to the person who gave us a week's worth of VR rations for nothing." Alexi stood in the doorway. In many ways she was exactly an older version of Kimberly, her hair dark and her eyes gray. She was a little less thin, what muscle she had a sure sign she was devoting many hours to fighting the muscle-degradation inherent to low-gravity life. Her hair was short and boyish, and her jumpsuit had several glittering achievement pins.

Kimberly never got achievement pins.

"Yeah, I know." Kimmy glanced over her shoulder, scowling at the projection one last time before he vanished. "We're friends, so it's okay."

"Your only friend is a personality simulation." The older girl sighed, then took her hand. "Come on then. One of the pre-war games? We could pick up where we left off in Skyrim if you want."

Kimberly smiled. It wasn't a big smile, but it was a smile. "Only if we can stop fighting for awhile. I wanna work on my blacksmithing!"

Chance blinked, and reality came rushing back. They were standing in front of the library door. Twilight looked at her expectantly, just as Spike said, "You can go in first, Chance! I know how much you must've missed it!"

The filly shook her head once to clear away the memory, then pushed the door open.

If she had one consolation, it was that the whole town hadn't been invited this time. Shouts assaulted her, streamers and confetti raining down on her not in elegant showers but in thick brown globs that stuck to her coat before sliding slowly off.

Of course the crusaders were waiting for her inside, along with every other member of her class and several of Twilight's friends. "Happy Cutesinerra!" came the shout, and she was taken up into the crowd. Chance managed to meet Spike's eyes in something like an angry glare before she was swallowed by an enthusiastic mob of her fellow fillies and colts.

"So it's a ball?" asked one. "Is it for juggling?"

"It's not a ball, it's the world!" somepony else insisted. "It means she's good at geography!"

"Everypony knows she's terrible at geography." There was no mistaking Silver Spoon for anypony else, even when she was being polite. Not that she would've described that behavior as anything like polite.

Scootaloo helped extricate her from the thickest crowd, though she shared no less in the excitement than anypony else. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle weren't far behind, each one wearing proud grins. She had to remember not to drink the punch. "So what is it?" she asked. "Your talent, I mean. I don't think it's ball bouncing or geography. Exploring maybe? Is that what an exploring mark looks like? Daring Do has a compass, so I guess the world could make sense."

The filly frowned, unsure of what she ought to say. She was fairly certain the cutie mark wasn't for exploring. "I... how would I know?"

Scootaloo rolled her eyes. "How'd you get it? Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle said you got it while fighting Discord, but it doesn't look like a fighting cutie mark either. And they wouldn't say anything else. It was some kinda secret, and only you could tell me?"

Chance moved a little closer, and lowered her voice. "I'll tell you, just not here. Too many ponies who might overhear."

Her friend nodded to what was evidently quite a reasonable objection, and their discussion reconvened hidden beneath a refreshment table. Being small wasn't all disadvantages.

"I would've told you right then, if you'd been with us the other night," Chance whispered, as quietly as was possible to speak and still be heard. "I... I've been keeping a secret for a long time. That I'm actually... from another world, someplace far away. My cutie mark isn't Equus, it's the place I came from."

Scootaloo's expression grew suspicious, harsh. "Why didn't you say anything before? We trusted you. Took you crusading with us."

She cracked under those harsh eyes, whimpering. Her ears pressed to her head, and she wished for a moment that she could disappear.

Sweetie Belle came to her defense, pressing herself briefly to Chance's side and glaring at Scootaloo. "She's telling us now!"

There was a tense silence.

"I guess." Scootaloo glared for a few seconds more, then she shrugged. "So what is it like? The place you come from?"

Maybe if she weren't already feeling so guilty from hiding the truth about herself for months, she might've lied. No, not lied; omitted details. "Not good. Pretty awful." She glanced at her flank. "When I left, there wasn't any green left. All the plants had died." As she had expected, her words were met with expressions of shared horror. It wasn't as though she didn't share their feelings. Perhaps even more intensely, since it was her world.

"Guess 'ah see why you like Ponyville so much." She shivered. "If ‘ah went somewhere without nothin' alive, I'd wanna get out too."

"But if there's no green left, why is your cutie mark all green?"

She shrugged. "I think... maybe that's my talent? I mean... the other night..." Her words came more slowly now, all the energy gone from her expression. It was not as though such things were easy to talk about. Actually, rather the opposite. It took every bit of her determination to keep talking. "Discord was trying to convince me that my people were evil and that we couldn't save them. But... I stood up for them. When I did, just for that second, I guess I felt like everything made sense. Like I finally knew why I'd come to Equestria, and what I had to do to fix the place I came from. I don't really remember most of it, but I think I know where to start."

There was another silence under the table, this one more awed than angry. Chance tried to read the expressions of her friends in the gloom, but all she could make out was something like defeat. "What's wrong?"

The three of them shared a knowing look, a look Chance couldn't read. In the end, it was Sweetie Belle who answered. "We've been trying to get our cutie marks for years now. You're not even from Equestria, and you did it in two months."

She wasn't sure what to say to that, at least not until she started thinking back on the last few days, and remembered what else they had managed to do. "Hmm... you know, I think there might be a way to do something about that." She rose to her hooves, climbing out from under the table. "But that depends."

"On what?"

"On how you feel about coal."


* * *


There was no light in the Great Hive, at least none that came from the sun. No sunlight reached this low, so deep beneath the earth that the rocks were warm to the touch and the air was thick like water. Ponies would likely not have survived the conditions for long, which was part of why Chrysalis had chosen the location many thousands of years ago. The heat and moisture did not feel oppressive to her anymore, not with how much of her life she had spent here. Far longer than she had ever expected to live, that was certain.

Most of the Great Hive was in darkness, but that was no great deterrent for her children. Scent-trails marked important paths, and sound would serve well enough when one traveled far from the hive and into the caves. Yet one of the great chambers had light, light formed from magic and crystal and fire. The nursery.

If the larva never saw light, their eyes would never develop properly. Despite the amazing effort it took the swarm, there was always light within the hatchery. On this night the light was fire, refracted through a thousand crystals and fueled by the oil-secreting fungus they carefully cultivated in distant caverns. It burned closer to blue than yellow, though since the flames were not actually located in this chamber there was none of the acrid smoke that accompanied its burning.

To others the hatchery might not have been a pleasant sight. In some ways it resembled the hives of bees, with regular cells on every surface made from dark wax, each one incubating a young changeling-to-be. Thousands of wings buzzed in the air, each one a daughter dutifully caring for the next generation. They brought food, moved the developing changelings as they passed through their several stages of life, and carefully cleaned the chamber.

Chrysalis had not come for any of them. Her daughters knew their duty, and did not need her encouragement to keep doing it. Indeed, the affairs in this Hive had proceeded without her intervention for years at a time. Many of her children might be nearly mindless individually, but taken together they could accomplish almost anything.

The lowest cells were almost always empty, and used only for her most treasured children. The warmth here was best, and the air that always flowed upward from below meant fumes would not choke them. Only one of the many cells was occupied now, covered over with a thick membrane. Even so, she could see the little changeling developing within, lit by the blue refracted so brightly this close to the source of light.

The common needs of this young changeling were already met; the many attendants managed such trivial affairs. Yet there was one thing they could not give, one thing only a queen could offer. Had she been a bee, it would've been called the Royal Jelly. A little to an egg would cause him to develop into a fully intelligent and sexually viable drone, with a lifespan like a mayfly. Given consistently to a larva, it would make a queen.

There was nothing physical to pass into the liquid substrate within, for the jelly was really just concentrated love, distilled by her own body into power. It did much to a young changeling. Most importantly, it gave her the strength to block out the voice of the Hivemind, and thus develop into an intelligence of her own. The only voice she would hear was Chrysalis, during these brief and infrequent visits.

I'm lonely. The thought came from within, more emotion than words. She was not yet old enough to be able to speak with anything so concrete. You came back.

She filled the little being with love, filled it until it was fit to burst and the energy started returning to her. I always come back, she soothed. Her voice was the only one the young queen would hear in her first year of life. That would mean loyalty, though that wasn't why Chrysalis came as often as she possibly could. It is good to see you are well.

I can't see, the voice replied. Her young daughters always seemed more intelligent after a feeding. What is see?

There was a ledge beside the cell, and she rested on it, looking into the opening and tracing the boundaries with a gentle hoof. You will, when you are older. There is much for you to see one day.

I want to see you.

A few more months and you will.

I want to see you.

She felt somepony coming then and rose to her hooves. She did not take flight, but she did turn to see who had dared to interrupt her.

As she had expected, it was no drone. Drones would have been content to communicate with her through the Hivemind. Rather, the Hivemind would communicate with her directly, not using a drone.

Only one of them had come, which was strange. As long as she had known them, the Builders had been a pair, and were never content to be on their own for long. When one died, the other would commit suicide on the spot, so they could be reborn together. Chrysalis held this knowledge very close, since it was one of the weaknesses she used to control these beings.

Of course, every one of her drones was female, which meant that even though one of the two had a male identity, it was impossible to tell which had come when she wasn't wearing the shape of a pony. As this was the Great Hive, magic was not being wasted on something so frivolous. There was no reading the Builder's thoughts or emotions through the Hivemind either. Though they both wore the bodies of drones, each had a mind like iron. Were it not so, their individual personalities would've long since been washed away in the swarm.

"I am sorry to interrupt you, my queen." The drone had the audacity to lower her head in respect, though in bearing it hardly even resembled her drones. There was audacity and pride in her every motion, and her insectoid voice practically dripped with arrogance.

"No, you aren't." The bow did not impress her. "Or you would have waited. What is it?"

Even for Chrysalis, it was hard to read emotion from insect eyes. Other changelings secreted pheromones that signaled how they were feeling, but neither of the Builders did anymore. They had mastered concealing their feelings after the first few lifetimes. Yet despite the lack of an obvious cue, she was sure the drone was smirking up at her. "It has to do with the pony we had planned to take during the Summer Sun celebration, the one who lives with Celestia's apprentice."

Chrysalis narrowed her eyes. "I am aware of the pony. Speak quickly."

"We may have another opportunity." She glanced briefly over Chrysalis’s shoulder at the cell behind her. "Perhaps in time to prevent that one from being a waste." She flicked a hoof at the occupied cell, almost bored.

Her mistake. Chrysalis closed the distance between them quickly, her curved horn beginning to glow with a faint, greenish aura. "Just because I won't let you and your twin have them does not mean they are a waste." Her voice was low; a dangerous growl. "Don't think that your usefulness is infinite, Builder. I spare two drones in a generation for you because I choose to, not because I need you." She withdrew a hoof's distance, gesturing back at the cell. "It is for her we fight, Builder. Her and her sisters. Don't forget."

However brazen the Builder could be, she would not argue or defy Chrysalis outright. They had tried, in past lives. Chrysalis had shown them just how much pain one body could endure before it died. Perhaps the fear she smelled from the drone was genuine, perhaps it wasn't. Either way it was enough to placate her. "Of course." This bow was far deeper than the last. "May we proceed? My brother and I both feel this is a time sensitive issue. The longer she remains with Princess Twilight, the more difficult she will be to contain. Taking her now still leaves the problem of the core, but at least our time-sensitive difficulties can be solved."

Chrysalis wanted to say no out of spite, confident that even an order given of pride would be obeyed. Yet she had not remained queen because she made her important decisions based on petty emotion. "You may. Take what you need, and do not be discovered. We cannot afford exposure."

The drone bowed again. "Of course, Queen Chrysalis. We will not fail." She took off with buzzing wings, vanishing into the gloom. 

Chrysalis watched her glide up with the currents, into higher sections of the Great Hive. Only when she was sure the drone had gone did she turn back to the cell that held her growing daughter, reaching out with her mind.

I want to see you. The developing changeling inside seemed to have not noticed the delay, or not to care. Not that she was surprised; time was a difficult concept, and might take months for her to learn.

You will, she promised, the love in her voice as real as any pony's. You will see clearer than any of your sisters, clearer than I. You will save us from ourselves.

I love you.

It took her a long time to answer. I love you.


> Chapter 3: Truth About Cutie Marks
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

No matter how excited Chance might be about this new plan, there was still a party to attend to, and by no means was that a dreadful duty. After her time in the hospital, Chance longed for the contact of ponies that didn't think she was either delusional or some sort of freakish monstrosity. Whatever else these ponies might be, even Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon at least treated her like she was just another pony.

Besides, the cute-ceañera was apparently an important coming-of-age for an Equestrian citizen, the signal of the beginning of one's transition from childhood to adolescence. It meant the last few years of school for many ponies, as they transitioned to apprenticeships in their various crafts. It meant that in a few years she would remember what the big deal was about dating and boyfriends and everything.

The entire town hadn't been invited to this particular party, for which Chance was grateful. She preferred talking to a few individuals she knew than to dozens that she didn't. Her classmates and their parents and siblings were way better company anyway.

"That's a really neat cutie mark," Lyra said, a glass of punch hovering in her magic. Every now and then she would take a sip, shudder a little, and promptly forget about the punch again. She had done it three times since she had started talking to Chance, and it was all she could do not to laugh. "I think it's perfect for you." She gave an exaggerated wink, pointless since nopony else was there to hear her.

"Thanks, Lyra."

"It's Earth, isn't it?"

Chance was grateful she wasn't drinking anything, or else she might've sprayed it all over the floor, attracting far more attention than she would've wanted. 

She must've looked pretty shocked either way, because Lyra nodded knowingly. "Yeah, thought so. It's clearly not Equus, not twisted sideways like that and with those two continents pulled apart. Obviously it had to be your planet."

"But... How'd you know it was called Earth?"

"It's in Clover the Clever's writings about the Precursors." Lyra glanced once around, making sure nopony else was looking before tossing the contents of her glass into a nearby potted plant. Chance was no earth pony, yet she could imagine pained screams from the flowers as the liquid soaked in. What were those things floating in each glass, anyway? "I'll admit I thought it was a little silly you named your planet 'Ground.'"

Chance shrugged. "You call your star 'Star.'"

Lyra took a moment to process what Chance had said. "Good point. Anyway, I just wanted to see if you had an hour or so sometime this next week. See, I've been invited to speak at a Canterlot symposium with the Society in a few weeks, and I would really appreciate if you could proof it for me. For accuracy and stuff."

"That sounds... pretty interesting, actually." It would be interesting to learn more about what Equestrians believed about her species. Maybe she could even correct some misinformation along the way. "I'll catch you after school one of these days, okay? I'll just follow the music."

Lyra grinned. "Thanks, Chance! You're the best!"

She wandered on, trying to follow Pinkie Pie's example and spend time with as many of the guests as possible. After all, they had come for her; she didn't want anypony feeling lonely.

"Miss Cheerilee?" It wasn't as though Ponyville's local schoolteacher had known her for all that long. "Glad you could make it."

Chance found herself wondering if being pink was an indication of a genetic tendency towards happiness. "Wouldn't miss it! I've always made it a point to attend these functions whenever one of my students discovers his or her special talent. There's no overstating how important a moment it can be in the growth of a young pony!" She moved a little closer, drawing out something she had been carrying and setting it on a nearby table. It was a printed packet, with the characteristic block letters of all but the rarest pony writings (which had been manually copied). A packet? Was it Chance's homework? Had she really missed that much in two days absence?

Maybe Cheerilee had become an expert at reading the expressions of young ponies, or maybe she could read their thoughts. "No, it's not homework." She flipped open a few of the pages. "I had hoped to tell you about this a few days ago, but you had a good excuse so I held onto this instead of giving it to somepony else. Every few years, there's this big event. It's called the Equestrian Innovators Convention; where some of the most talented young ponies get together with the most influential inventors and researchers. This year it's being held in Seaddle... And I get to choose two of my students to go. I know you haven't been with us for very long, but based on some of the discussions we've had, I think you'll make an excellent engineer one day."

"You're just saying that cuz' I can barely read and I know less about history than a foal."

Her teacher's grin never faltered. "That's what makes Equestria so wonderful, Chance. If we all had the same talents, it would be a boring place to live." She flipped through the pages, so Chance could see the illustrations of fancy machines and important-looking ponies in labcoats or holding tools. "An event like this could really help foster a budding talent like yours. The expenses are all included, and I've already discussed it with your guardian. But the convention is next week, so I've got to know now if you don't want to go. There are plenty of other students that would love to go in your place."

She thought about that for a moment. It didn't take her long to make up her mind. "Who else is going?"

"Apple Bloom. She was the class's clear leader in Math and Applied Science unti-"

"Where do I sign?"

Cheerilee flipped to the page, and produced a quill from somewhere. It wasn't as though they weren't sitting around everywhere in the library. "Think carefully before you agree, Second Chance. There are commitments. The convention is only three days long, but the assignments are rigorous and you'll have to report on them for the class. But there are fantastic opportunities to be had, too. Lots of the greatest inventors in Equestria recruit their apprentices and assistants from events like this. Not to mention the contests; if you're really clever, you can even bring some bits back for our school." Only then did her smile falter, though not by much. "We could really use the extra help."

Chance took the quill in her mouth and scribbled her signature. It was far less neat than her horn-writing, but her magic hadn't recovered since the Nanophage injection. She was glad to see Cheerilee hadn't mentioned the change. "Mhweehm-" She returned the quill to its well. "win for you, Cheerilee! You can count on us!"

The pinkish pony closed the packet, and replaced it in the folder she had brought. "I'm sure you will. But don't feel bad if you don't; it's really about the opportunity. Being able to help your school is just... a little extra incentive to perform."


* * *


"So... It's a big square?" Scootaloo eyed the dormant OMICRON Core with a mixture of skepticism and fear. She never got close, almost as though she were afraid the giant metal thing was going to fall and squash her. Well, it would've squashed her if it fell, but Chance doubted that was about to happen anytime soon.

"Actually, it's a big cube." Apple Bloom gestured with her hooves. "A square would be two dimensions, but this is three."

"Whatever, egghead stuff." She rolled her eyes. "Exactly how does a cube get us cutie marks? I don't want a cube cutie mark; that sounds like the lamest thing ever. What would that mean, that we were good at being square?"

"It's not the cube that gets us cutie marks," Sweetie Belle interjected. "It's the pony living inside! Chance said he was super smart!"

"Smart enough to tell us what our talents are? So we can just do 'em, and stop doing things we aren't good at?" Only now did Scootaloo begin to show some interest of her own. "I guess that could be cool. Show me!"

From somewhere near the stairs, Twilight Sparkle watched under the protection of an invisibility spell. At least, Chance assumed she was watching. It wasn't her that Twilight was hiding from, it was Truth. She didn't understand why Twilight would be afraid of something as kind and helpful as an OMICRON Core, but she wasn't about to argue. She was just happy Twilight had allowed them to do this at all. But far from being against the idea, she had actually seemed relieved when Chance had told her they were asking about something safe and routine like cutie marks. 

Chance tried to use the Nanophage, willing the implants to respond. But just like her magic, the mental aspects seemed sealed to her for the moment. She wasn't worried yet, knowing that it could take up to two weeks for her brain to be fully integrated. Once those two weeks were up, then she could get worried. So instead she put her hoof on the surface of the cube and pushed down, drawing a circle. The gesture did not scratch the cube, and wouldn't even if she had been wearing horseshoes. Nanosteel was harder than diamonds, or perhaps it was truer to say that nanosteel was more diamond than steel.

The surface glowed at her touch, and the glow spread to that entire face. There was a brief tone, and the surface rippled in little sections, as though it were made of water and her touch had been a rock. The crusaders each jerked back a little, some more than others.

"Hello again, user Second Chance. You kept your word."

Chance nodded. "Your first lesson. Ponies always keep their promises." She paused, thinking of the possible consequences for Truth's development. "Or... I do. And most ponies do. We have to work together, and it wouldn't be conducive to a healthy working relationship if it wasn't built on trust."

The surface flickered with every word Truth spoke, like those old music visualizers that traced the waveforms of the sound.  "Are we prepared to accomplish our mission, Chance? My information indicates that DATA UNAVAILABLE  years have passed since my arrival. If this is true, we have failed and our continued existence serves no purpose."

"Well that's a darn sour way to look at it." Apple Bloom stepped forward, perhaps the least fearful of her friends.  "Just cuz' you mess up don't mean your..." she struggled for a moment, "don't mean you gotta give up on life!"

"If we gave up every time we failed, we'd have given up a long long time ago," Sweetie Belle added, with a knowing grin.

Chance was sure she heard Twilight strangle a giggle at that.  "More to the point Truth, you lack some important information." She stopped then, freezing in place as she realized her information was no better than Truth's. "You arrived thousands of years in Equestria's past. I left... it must've been before you did, because when I left nobody had thought of sending an OMICRON Core instead of a person."

There was a pause, and the temperature near the cube seemed to visibly increase by a degree or two. Chance had no doubt it was computing the vaster implications of what she had just told it.

"What are you thinkin'?" Applebloom asked, reaching curiously towards the surface of the now-silent cube, though she didn't dare actually touch its surface with her hoof.

 "May I answer the unregistered member of native species, user?"

"Yes." She cleared her throat.  "In fact, I give you permission to answer any question that doesn't require restricted information, regardless of who asks, as long as I am physically present."

It was more than a little disorienting to have Truth answer Apple Bloom's question so quickly, without any sign it had switched targets or subjects. That was why most AIs were given avatars; organics just weren't equipped to handle interaction with disembodied intelligences. "If the information Administrator gave is accurate, then it is impossible to know the relative year on Earth at this moment. The concept may not even be valid, given the apparent temporal disconnect between perspective universes."

"More clearly, user Chance and this unit may not have failed after all."

"I don't see what this has to do with cutie marks," Scootaloo mumbled from behind them.

Chance tried to ignore her. "Truth, is the current power input enough for you to run without draining your reserves?"

"Yes. I am actively attempting to optimize my operation for a low-power environment. Using passive thermal energy and the power input, I can operate indefinitely, though I cannot activate quantum functions or fabricate under such low-energy conditions."

"Good. Truth, dedicate spare processor cycles to determining a way to send a transmission back to Luna-7."

"Command acknowledged."

"How much information do you have about the native species?"

"Extensive observational data, behavioral projections and complete lifetime simulations based on genetic input. Little information is available about social constructions or political structure."

"What about these?" Chance turned sideways, gesturing at her cutie mark. "How much do you know about these?"

"Skill markings are universal to Equestrian common species Ter-6, Ter-17, Aer-2. Markings appear at the early stages of puberty and remain throughout individual lifespan. Similarities in the markings of those with familial ties are common, but no genetic basis has been detected. Simulated native life never developed skill markings."

"They're connected to heredity, but they're not genetic?"

"Correct. Cells producing the marking pigments are produced under instruction by spontaneously developed XNA molecules. The origin of these molecules is unknown."

"So you don't know how ponies get them?"

"They are obtained while performing skill-related actions, but the causal link between this behavior and the pigments cannot presently be demonstrated."

"Could you predict what action might produce the marks in a pony at the appropriate age who hasn't developed them yet?" She gestured over her shoulder at her friends. "Say, for these three ponies?"

There was a pause. "What does this have to do with our mission?"

She was a little taken aback with the question. Not that it was all that difficult for anyone of even modest intelligence to see that trying to find the Crusaders' cutie marks had nothing to do with their mission. Still, grasping that required a fairly high level of abstraction. Truth was learning fast.

"Diplomacy," she eventually supplied. "We require the assistance of other ponies. My friends are capable and young enough to remain useful for a long time. To secure their cooperation, you must first secure their cutie marks."

Another pause, this one a full five seconds. A monumental delay for such a powerful AI. "Insufficient information presently available to project 'cutie mark' development. Required input: 

1. Census data for at least 10,000 native individuals along with their skill marks
2. At least 1,000,000 words of popular media published or performed in the last decade, including the full text of a comprehensive encyclopedia if available
3. Personality surveys completed by the individuals under investigation

The accuracy of prediction would be significantly increased with genealogical records of the subjects, but is not required."

Chance frowned. That was a long list of requirements, though at the same time nearly all of it was already in the library. The bestseller section upstairs would cover requirement 2, and her friends were already present for personality surveys. She knew Equestria performed a census every decade, because she had seen an entire shelf dedicated to it in the genealogy section. It was only a matter of keeping the generator stoked long enough to get all of it done.

"Can you do the survey orally? I can go upstairs and get the other two things."

"Yes."

It looked like any trace of fear in her friends was gone now. If anything, they seemed to run the range of curiosity and eagerness. Sweetie Belle was sitting beside Apple Bloom now. "Why do you need books?"

"To extract cultural normatives and range of possible skills. Without this knowledge, I could not produce a list short enough that every possibility could be attempted in an organic lifetime."

"Oh."

"Alright girls, I'll be right back. Answer Truth's questions as honestly as you can. It's not judging you, but if you give the wrong answers Truth is going to give you wrong predictions." She turned, and started heading up the stairs. "Truth, use subconscious aversion as much as you can."

"Understood." 

"What's aversion?"

Chance ignored the question, hurrying up the stairs. She left the door open longer than she would have, so that invisible Twilight could follow if she wanted to.


* * *


Almost the instant the door closed behind them, Twilight reappeared. "It sounds like your memory is coming back."

She nodded, avoiding Twilight's eyes, whimpering quietly. "It... Discord. He... rattled things around, I guess. I still don't remember very much. Like my family... I remember my older sister's name, but nobody else's."

Twilight wrapped one wing gently over Chance's shoulder. "I know how hard these last few days have been, but it's important you tell me anything that might be important. Like... Your mission in Equestria. Have you remembered that?"

She nodded. It took her almost a full minute to get together the courage to answer. "My world... There was nowhere safe to live anymore. The whole thing was covered with... radiation. It killed everything on the surface. I was sent to Equestria because it was the only door we opened that led to a planet at the right temperature for life."

"We honestly didn't expect anyone to be living here. Life is so rare in our universe, so rare we still haven't found any sign of it anywhere else... I was just supposed to make it here, and build a radio transmitter... Ponies have radio, right?"

Twilight nodded. "It's not nearly as useful as sending spells, so we don't use it much outside of universities."

"Well, the plan was to send a signal once I got here, since I could only send the message if I arrived alive and with enough power to interact with physical objects." She could see Twilight's expression changing, and she silenced her with a gesture. "Not now, Twilight. That part's too complicated. Anyway, when I sent the signal, they would start sending supplies through. Thousands of copies of each item I need, so that at least one or two would make it. With all the parts, I was supposed to build something called a Rift stabilizer." She gestured at her head with a hoof. "I couldn't even tell you how hard they worked to get me to memorize every last technique needed to bootstrap all the way from flint tools to the stabilizer." 

She shifted a little uncomfortably on her hooves, blushing. "I didn't really learn any of it the traditional way, so if anything happens to trigger the memories, it all sorta just comes rushing out.

Twilight nodded again. "I had noticed. I just thought you were eager to show you knew the answers sometimes. I got that way when I was still in school. Can't say my classmates liked it much."

Chance continued past her, walking to the kitchen window. Through it, she could see the many houses of Ponyville, and the outline of part of the generator where it chugged away. It had to be running low on fuel by now; it was probably time to get outside and start shoveling. She did not look forward to the prospect of putting her mouth on the shovel. "You have to understand, we had no idea there would be advanced life here. The Rift is plenty large enough for plenty of different transmission bandwidths, but we didn't get anything. We've been listening for years, and never heard a thing."

"There wasn't a contingency for what to do if we found people." She plopped down on her haunches, and heaved a frustrated sigh that melted into a sob somewhere near the end. "I'm not sure what to do."

"This 'Rift stabilizer'." Twilight sat down beside her. Without hesitation Chance rested herself against the mare's side. Twilight didn't shudder at her touch the way she had months ago, or show any sign that she was scared and didn't know what to do. She was there and she was strong, and that was more than enough. "Is it dangerous? What will your people do if you build it?"

She didn't hesitate to answer. "They'll start coming through. In tens, first. Scouts, engineers, soldiers. Eventually they'll start sending people by the thousands. I'm sure the eventual goal would be to migrate everyone, then destroy the rift so they couldn't be followed."

"Equestria's a big place." Twilight didn't sound angry; if anything she sounded positively cheerful. "I'm sure Celestia could find room for some pioneers. How many would 'everyone' be? Can't be that many if nothing can live on the ground anymore."

When she answered, it was bitterly. "At the time I left, it was... 1.29 billion."

She felt Twilight jerk. She looked up, and though Twilight was trying to speak, only a hoarse squeak made it out of her mouth for nearly a full minute. Eventually she managed. "Chance, I... A whole planet couldn't have that many ponies living on it. I don't think if you took every pony, griffon, minotaur, zebra, dragon, changeling, goblin, and everything else... I'm not sure there would be a billion on all of Equus. If there were, it wouldn't be much more." Then, more quietly, "If that's how many are left, how many of you were there before... whatever happened?"

"7.24 billion, if you counted only living people. If you counted all the cybernetic and digital people, probably closer to... 15 billion? It's hard to tell, since you can put a million minds into a room when they're digital, and the Steel Tower stopped sharing statistics with the Federation decades before the war."

Twilight got up, shaking her head. "You can't be remembering that right, Second Chance. It's well understood that a planet with the size and climate of Equus can only support about 2 billion herbivores, or a third as many carnivores. Do you come from a bigger planet?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't think so. I could be wrong, since I've only ever been a pony here and I don't know what it would feel like if I wasn't, but gravitational acceleration feels the same, your moon seems to be the same distance away, and you have the same orbital period relative to your star. Most of the plant species are the same, and many of the animals as well."

Chance got up, pushing the door open with her head and making her way to the huge pile of coal she had gathered with her friends. She opened the feed-door on the generator, and sure enough the flames seemed to be dying down. Now how was she supposed to shovel with her mouth?

Twilight followed her out and removed the necessity, taking up the shovel in her magic with no apparent effort whatsoever. "So if you lived on a planet the same size, with a similar climate, why didn't famine keep your population in check? You weren't all starving, were you? No, that couldn't be... You couldn't keep up an expansion so far above replacement if you were starving for generations. And not just food! There wouldn't be enough wood to make houses, or enough metal to make tools. Or enough oil to burn in your machines..."

"We weren't starving, no. It's..." she looked away. "If we lived the way you do, there couldn't have been so many. Back when we were at your technology, we had about a billion on the whole planet. No other races like on yours to compete with, just us. We had to be way more spread out than ponies are, since we didn't have earth pony magic in our farms, and some years there just wasn't enough rain for all our crops."

"But we figured out how to do things better. First it was better fertilizers, so we could grow more with the same land. Then it was pesticides and herbicides... Chemicals to kill plant and insect pests, so more of the crop would survive to harvest. Then came genetic engineering... Uh... Think of the way ponies have bred wheat, except we could do the work of a thousand generations in just one harvest, and we weren't stuck with just plants. Like, we could take an ice water fish's ability not to freeze in the cold, and put it in oranges so they could grow in subzero temperatures."

Twilight nodded, seeming not to require any of her concentration at all to shovel. "Oh, ponies have that. Thaumic horticulture." Her face scrunched up in annoyance. "Plenty of earth pony farmers don't want to grow magical crops, even though they're better in every way." She grinned. "Have I ever given you zapapple jam? No? Well, it's a good thing Applejack's family doesn't feel that way, or nopony would."

"Well, the next technology we need is vertical farming and aeroculture. Picture... Manehattan! Buildings like that, only instead of ponies living inside you've got floors and floors of farms. You make the windows out of something really clear, and use electric lights at night. You don't need much water or fertilizer when you grow that way, and none of the nasty chemicals we used before. A vertical farm has about 10 times the productivity per acre, since it grows day and night all year long. A few really big ones could feed a whole city, and no need to transport any of the produce since it's already in town. Every new technology meant more humans and less of an environmental impact."

Twilight slammed the metal receiver closed. "I'm guessing your people did something similar for houses and tools and medicine and everything else. The more efficient you made things, the more of you there could be."

Chance nodded. "Except it all collapsed. The only thing keeping us alive is our technology, and it's a pretty miserable life. Ever eaten algae crackers with insect jam?" She was hardly surprised when Twilight looked revolted. That was the proper expression to have when discussing such awful foods. "Well, I hope you never do, they’re awful."

"All these technologies rely on electricity. Without it, everyone dies. We don't burn oil or coal anymore like ponies do, but the best ways to make power aren't possible for most people. The machines we use to make power are all running down; Earth doesn't have an infrastructure making more. Nopony can go up to the surface and make things better, because they just die when they try. It's... all pretty awful."

Twilight led the way back inside, and collapsed on the nearest couch as soon as they were through the door. "I think I see why you wanted to forget all of this."

Chance sat down at the base of the couch, glancing once at the basement door. She wondered how much more testing the Crusaders had to do, and how long it would take to get a set of encyclopedias scanned into Truth. "Yeah."

"Some of the things you talked about would be amazing for Equestria. If we could get electricity as easily as you do, it would open so many possibilities! Not to mention those farms you talked about; if cities had a few of those they wouldn't have to rely on the countryside for miles around. But..." she trailed off.

"I know." Chance didn't have the courage to look up. "I haven't even told you what happened to us, and you don't want it to happen to Equestria." She still didn't look up, but she could feel Twilight's nod. "And I don't either. I... don't think I can carry out my original mission. This isn't an empty planet. But... I think there's a better way!" She got up, and grinned wider than she ever had at the party, nudging Twilight with her hooves. "We don't need my original mission anymore. Ponies can solve all of Earth's problems!"

This provoked only a blank stare. "How? We don't have any of your machines. There aren't even half as many of us-"

"Magic, Princess Twilight! So we've got radiation everywhere - Sweetie Belle told me that there's a really easy spell unicorns can learn to get rid of it. So we've got a trashed ecosystem; earth ponies can turn wastelands into forests! Our climate's completely ruined, but pegasi can rebuild it!"

Now even Twilight was smiling. "That sounds better than a billion strangers taking our planet away. I bet your people would be pretty grateful for our help."

"Like you can't even imagine! You could pretty much write your own check. Once the surface was livable again, we could start rebuilding our planet on our own. Whatever Equestria wants in exchange, it would get. Technology; machines you can't even imagine... But not just that! There's a rich history of art we could share. Paintings, sculptures, music, stories... And other things you don't have words for. Want telescopes up in space, so you can study the stars without having to look through the atmosphere? We can send a dozen. Want a way to hold every book ever written in one saddlebag? We'll make them for everypony in Equestria. Everypony's happy, and nopony gets kicked out of their land."

"I think... I've got a letter to write." Twilight rose to her hooves, turning at once for the stairs leading up. "You should send the Crusaders home. It's getting late, and their families are probably getting worried. If they're not done, they can come back tomorrow after school to finish, okay?"

She nodded. "Do you think Spike will be back from Rarity's in time to make dinner? Or... Do you think I should make something?"

Twilight looked meaningfully at her. "I think you ought to make a few dinners after what you put us through." Chance opened her mouth to speak, but found Twilight's hoof prevented her. "Don't bother. You said the cube could store electricity, right? That means we're not wasting anything." She removed her hoof, heading up the stairs.

Chance grumbled, but this too Twilight drowned out, not having to look back. "Don't just make a salad, either. I expect some real apologetic effort out of you!" She stopped on the stairs, glancing down with a grin. "Didn't you say Equestria would get whatever it wanted? Well right now, Equestria wants a certain filly to learn a little responsibility."


* * *


Brigid dreaded the sensation of awful stretching, of pulling and twisting through invisible spaces that was Universal Transit. There was no easy organic analog to transferring your consciousness, memories, and very self from one computer to another. If there was anything dangerous about an entirely virtual existence, Transit was one of the most dangerous things. As far as Brigid knew nobody had ever died in the process, but there were horror stories of people emerging changed. Were they true? Almost certainly not, but that didn’t make it feel any less like she was taking her life into her hands.

She was still a little pale (well, paler than usual) as she emerged from the platform and stepped out onto the boardwalk. The Transit station was as busy as ever, mostly bureaucrats and Internal Security as they moved about their duties. Brigid was pleased to see two of the InSec men in their translucent yellow and green cloaks attracted to her at once. Neither reached for their weapon-routines, though of course they knew that would've been overkill.

Then they got close enough to see her robes, the gray of the Technocratic Order. The runes written within were written in white, the highest possible rank for a scholar. As quickly as she had attracted their attention, the men seemed to suddenly lose interest, moving off in different directions and not looking in her direction again. She was appropriately amused.

Bree passed several small gatherings, men and women and children bidding farewell to a family member going Above. Such departure celebrations were a popular custom, though they created frustrating congestion for those in a hurry. Bree was in no real hurry, and listened to some of the conversation as she passed.

"Bet you're excited to be real again!"

"Send plenty of pictures!"

"Make us proud, hun! Impress 'em for us!"

It was always an occurrence of note when a relative got to go Above. Most probably weren't getting human bodies, but would be operating drones and repair-bots and security devices. Even so, the mindless masses fawned over the opportunity. As though being Above somehow made you more real than being in the Imperial City, or any of the Infinite Realm. Of course, few had been so young as she was when she entered, so clung to some romanticized version of Above. She couldn't imagine what other reason would make them want to leave. Here any dream could be made real, any fantasy fulfilled. Above was a world of concretes, of limitations, and of suffering.

She passed through the crowds, slipping between people in spaces too small to accommodate her. There was no reason for space not to be flexible here. As the ignorant all around kept repeating, none of this was 'real.' Whatever the hell that meant.

The boardwalk was a nice change from the station, the cool air on her skin and the bright sun on her face. She felt quite comfortable in her gray robes, though part of that was the environmental subroutine she had written. Doubtless if this were a "real" boardwalk, she would've been sweltering before she was halfway to her destination.

There were far more people her own age out here, or at least people who chose to look it. When you weren't in official space, you could look like whomever you wanted (or whatever you wanted, in some servers). Still, she knew the avatars when she saw them; those who had made themselves young just by changing their appearance. Not that there hadn't been plenty of children in the early days of the Great War, but many years had gone by and most of those had chosen to let a simulated version of nature take its course with the simulation of their brain chemistry.

Changing your avatar didn't change you, and you could always tell when someone was pretending if you knew what to look for. Bree knew, just as clearly as she knew the one she was going to see was one of the few who had not (like every other idiot in the Realm) allowed himself to age a day since arriving here. Of course, he also happened to be the young man that had saved her life.

Why he had chosen such a mundane place to live was a mystery to her, just as she failed to understand why he had chosen such a mundane life. ENS-Boardwalk6, or "Earth-Normal-Simulation" allowed nothing fantastic, nothing inhuman, and nothing that had no analogue on Earth prior to about 2050. It might very well be the most boring and mundane place in all the Realm.

Bree didn't care. She was practically skipping at the mere thought of seeing her best friend again.

No, not her best friend. Her only friend.

Was there any difference?

His family were every bit as boring as the server they lived in. Nevermind that they could've lived on great island-cities of cloud, or within the fiery heart of a volcano. Instead they had a modest little beachfront house, with big picture windows and weathered-looking wood. None of the family was a skilled Datamancer, yet still she knew they had built it themselves. With tools, sweat, and real-time hard work. The thought was so backward as to make her shrink in disgust.

Not from the handiwork. However she might think it mundane, there was something unfailingly concrete about the house and all who lived inside that none of her most spectacular creations ever had. Brigid still didn't know what it was, and it made her a little uncomfortable to think about. Of course, not wanting to think about something was the swiftest way to invite herself to think about it. It's because I would rather live here than in a palace.

His mother was tending to the garden.

This didn't surprise her. Sonja Halko was as predictable as her home. She had to admit, it was hard not to respect the woman. Not just for all the strength she had before coming to the Infinite Realm, which had been tremendous. Unlike most, she didn't turn time back to when she had been in her prime and live that way forever. Even Tesla the Wise had enough vanity to want to look young and handsome. But Sonja hadn't changed a thing. She was in her mid-forties, with a few respectable lines to her face and a slight thinning to her hair brought on by a hard life. Yet for it all, Bree knew of none more cheerful.

"Missus Halko." Despite all her rank, despite her robe of high office and the many privileges and powers she wielded, Bree truly felt her age in the presence of this woman. She stood on the other side of a short white fence, resting one hand on it and looking as friendly as she could. The old-world woman insisted on a level of formality she wouldn't have given to anyone, save perhaps the king himself.

The woman looked up from her gardening, smiling at her. The expression was tired and weak, but in a way that almost made it more real. Sonja didn't smile the same way Bree's generation did, those who knew no pain and had spent their lives in comfort. No, her smiles were one of contrast; one who knew the good because they had tasted so much of the bad. "Bree girl, so good to see you!" She brushed her hands on her apron, then rose. "You sent no message. I told you to call ahead. I have a roast nearly ready, but it's not big enough for five." She feigned disapproval. "I shall have to bring something home from the market to supplement it. Vegetables perhaps?"

Bree pulled down her hood, shaking her hair free. Whenever she traveled to see her old friend, she always kept it in a tight ponytail and shortened it to more realistic proportions. The subroutines that she used to manage it most everywhere else didn't work within the harsh realism constraints of Boardwalk-6. "No need for that, Missus Halko. I don't eat, remember?"

The woman just clucked her tongue, slipping the pruning-shears back into her pocket and folding her arms. "Now Bree, you know it doesn't work like that here. We live where things work properly, including your stomach. You can act as mighty as you want, but we both know what the state of things will be come supper. You will be sitting at my table, and you will be eating. I expect you'll outdo my sons. You usually do. I suppose you have to make up for all the meals you miss when you don't stay with us."

She shrugged. "Is Charles home yet?"

Halko shook her head. "No, I'm afraid not. You know how busy he's been ever since they made him a knight." She lowered her voice, and her eyes darkened a little. "Meaning no disrespect to His Grace, but I do wish he had chosen someone better."

Bree slipped through the gate, stepping onto the path of small stones. She couldn't help but be defensive, though perhaps she should've been wise enough to realize what was happening. Unfortunately, being frozen meant that maturity and wisdom never came. That was the price of being eternal. "There isn't a better pilot anywhere, in the Realm or Above!" The response came out her lips before she could stop it, and Bree found herself blushing furiously mere moments later.

"No, I suppose not." Halko mussed her hair playfully, then turned for the gardening shed. "You can wait for him inside if you wish. He's usually back by five; less than an hour. Perhaps you can use some of the time to make up your bed. I would've done that myself, but of course you didn't call ahead, did you?"

"Miss Halko, I can't-"

"Of course you can." The woman hadn't slowed down, hadn't even turned. She just shouted, her voice getting louder as she got further away. A few people glanced curiously at them, from the sidewalks or the beach, but neither the woman nor the girl cared what they might think. "And don't bother arguing. Whatever important business you're on, it can wait one night. The Tower wasn't built in a day."

There wasn't anyone in the Infinite Realm who could talk to Bree like that and expect her to obey. The king himself was waiting on her decision, and yet she stayed. But then, she had already agreed, and that meant she knew it might be a very long time before she visited this house. It seemed appropriate to make sure her last visit was a proper one. If she got her way, it would be Charles's last visit for awhile too. 


> Chapter 4: Memory
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight reread the brief letter at least a dozen times, and not just because Spike hadn't come in to help her send it.

Dear Princess Celestia,

When you told me I would be receiving an important visitor, you made it clear I needed to pay close attention and learn why she had come to Equestria, along with everything else I could.

The spell you gave me to make her a pony also took away most of her memories, and they were coming back so slowly it might have been a long time before I learned anything useful. During the night before the Summer Sun Celebration, Discord visited Second Chance and did something to her. Magical examination showed he made no lasting changes to her pattern.

I think we both know those aren't the only kinds of injuries Discord can cause. It feels as though his presence liberated most or all of her memories, and with a little prompting she was able to answer all the questions you had.

Her world has been destroyed, and nopony can live there anymore. Her people expected to find Equestria empty, and they sent her to make a door the rest of her people can use. Chance tells me ponies being here changes her mission, and she won't follow her original instructions. I believe her.

She thought that ponies might be able to save her old world, so that her people wouldn't have to come through. All of the problems that have made her world unlivable can be corrected with pony magic, though it would require centuries at least.

You also wanted to know about her loyalty. I believe Second Chance is a loyal Equestrian. If we refuse her plan, or ask her not to contact her people, I think she'll listen. I also think asking would destroy her. She's quite fragile, more since Discord returned. I think for the moment it would be best for your questions or instructions to go through me. Meeting you so soon after meeting Discord would be far too stressful for her.

At least, I think so.

Your Faithful Student,

Twilight Sparkle

Only when she had decided that there was nothing else to add did Twilight finally sign the scroll and seal it with wax, slipping it away behind the nearest book and trotting into the kitchen.

It looked a little like she had set off some sort of pasta-bomb. Noodles were everywhere, most only half-cooked and none safe in a pot or a bowl. Red tomato sauce was pooled in various places, and made the whole room smell like garlic. Twilight almost laughed; the streaks Chance's hooves had left made it seem like the pasta was a monster who had dragged its latest victim into the garbage and devoured it. Judging from the red stains all over Chance's coat, she was the victim.

Twilight quickly reconstructed the scene from the evidence before her. A pot spilled sideways near the stove, doubtless the source of the noodles. A potholder was fallen beside it, half-soaked in water, and the burner was still running. Identifying the source of the pasta was a little harder, until she spotted a few shards of glass Chance's hasty cleanup had evidently missed near the edge of the table.

The filly rested on her haunches before the mess, half-drenched and looking as defeated as any filly could look. She turned and noticed Twilight, and her sobbing only got louder. It physically hurt to watch her struggle to force words through the tears, gasping for air all the while. "I... ruined everything Twilight... Horrible... not worth... pile'a horseapples." That was evidently all she could handle, because she buried her face in her hooves again, smearing more red all over herself.

Twilight chuckled, though she strangled the sound as best she could. As funny as this was, she remembered well how the smallest of mistakes had felt like the end of the world once. This might not be the smallest of mistakes, but it was nothing to the "Nanophage" debacle of a few days ago. This was the sort of problem she could solve with a rag and plenty of soapy water. "You learned that word from Apple Bloom, didn't you?"

Chance said nothing, though her sobbing was trailing off. Twilight wasn't exactly sure she liked its replacement very much. Even as she watched, her apprentice transitioned from a state of perfectly understandable distress to something like a catatonic stupor, staring off into the distance and making no noise.

"All right, I think that's about enough." She gripped her apprentice in her magic, lifting her gently off the ground. Under ordinary circumstances she would never carry her like this, but the alternative was trailing red all over the library. Even wood floors could be stained. Chance did not squirm or struggle, but went as limp as any of the noodles.

Twilight carried the filly all the way to the bathroom, careful not to let her drip. She let her down into the bathtub as gently as she could, but even so the filly slumped sideways like a sack of flour. She started the warm water, and was almost afraid that she would have to stop it from drowning the filly inside. But no, however limp she might be, she was also positively buoyant, and floated to an uneasy standing position as the room filled with steam.

"What's wrong, Chance?" she asked, opening the cabinet and removing the soaps and brushes that waited there. "You made a mess, it's not a big deal. Spike and I will take care of it for you... If he ever makes it back from Rarity's."

Chance didn't laugh. She didn't even turn to look at Twilight, and made no effort to pick up the brush with mouth or magic. Most fillies would've been appalled to be treated so much like a foal, but Chance showed no sign of reaction, negative or positive.

"I can't help you if you won't tell me what's wrong." Twilight lowered her face to the tub, looking her apprentice right in the eye. "Is it... because of Discord?"

That provoked a reaction, a spark of recognition through the glassy blindness in her eyes. But she shook her head, mumbling. "N-no... my fault... All my fault..."

Twilight waited, hoping that her silence might prompt the filly to continue. But much as she had been early in their relationship, the filly remained stoic.

"What's your fault, Chance?"

The filly mumbled something in response, but Twilight didn't hear it. Didn't, because at that moment the front door banged open and Spike trundled inside. A few seconds and he was standing in the open doorway, a grin spreading slowly across his face. "I thought you said baths wasted too much water."

Spike didn't wait for an answer, but backed up a pace, as though he was preparing for a cannonball jump. She suspected that he was, but she wouldn't give him the chance. Twilight caught Spike in a glow of lavender magic. "No, Spike. Not tonight." Ordinarily, the filly was always eager for Spike's company. The two seemed to get along well, and Spike had been relieved to have somepony else to help with his more menial responsibilities. Somehow Twilight guessed Chance would be less than happy about another shock. 

"There's a letter on the top shelf of the reference section, behind the botany encyclopedia. Could you send it to Celestia? Then, if you wouldn't mind tidying up the kitchen, there's a whole bowl of emeralds in it for you." That was far more than Twilight usually gave him. Just now, the expense wasn't her first concern. Besides, he would learn why such a simple chore was worth so much to her soon enough.

She waited for Spike's nod before releasing him, and he didn't run for the bath. He shrugged, and vanished out the door. At least there was someone in the library she could count on not to go completely insane. Again.

As it turned out, Chance did not get better. Nothing Twilight said seemed to get through to her, and eventually the filly had curled up into a ball and was unable to do anything but cry, muttering to herself in whatever passed for her native tongue. She thought about putting a translation spell together, but eventually decided the best option was simply to put the filly to bed and hope for the best. Whatever shock she had been through, it was possible time would heal. She had survived the transition into Equestria after all. Her sanity had survived remarkable things according to Princess Luna. There were probably plenty of other ponies in shock from what Discord had done to them.

Instead of fight the darkness tonight, Twilight took her into bed with her and held her as close as the little filly would let her, until she eventually relaxed and fell asleep. It wasn't as though Twilight herself was in much better shape. The stress of what she had learned still irked her, and not just because some of her most nagging questions hadn't been answered.

Equestria was in trouble. They didn't have the Elements of Harmony anymore. What did that leave them with to protect Equestria? What would happen if Discord's friendship with Fluttershy wasn't enough to keep him in line? What if any of their old enemies came back? There were mighty dragons that could level cities with flame. Who knew what had happened to the Changelings after they had been defeated? What about King Sombra, had he been banished for good? What if there were more forgotten "surprises" from the era of Discord still floating around somewhere, just waiting for some trigger to wake up?

Twilight Sparkle had brought home an important artifact from Canterlot, one penned by Clover the Clever herself before the Lunar Rebellion. The scroll had been called the Apocalypse Manuscript. Was this why?

When Twilight was absolutely sure Second Chance was asleep, she slipped deftly away and down the stairs. She knew she should've stayed, that she needed the sleep nearly as much as her apprentice after all that had happened. But that didn't matter. The Manuscript was calling to her now, its tendrils stretching across a thousand-year gulf with the promise of answers.

Twilight had tidied the basement on the day of the Summer Sun Celebration, restoring all the furniture that Chance and her friends had turned into barricades. It had been some impressive work for three fillies, none of which would've been strong enough to move any of the tables or bookshelves with their own strength. Her apprentice might not be as magically varied as some, but she could sure levitate like a pro, and she even had her cutie mark now. 

That was both very interesting and a little troubling to Twilight Sparkle. After all, one could usually tell a great deal about a pony from their cutie mark. What did it mean about her apprentice that she had an alien world as her mark? Did it mean she wasn't loyal to Equestria? Or was it merely a reminder not to forget about her home?

Twilight found the Manuscript exactly where she had hidden it. She unrolled it on a worn wooden desk, and sat on her haunches in front of it. She had been focusing much of her attention and study to the beginning of the Manuscript before, the part that had been publicly available thanks to a previous translation provided by Greymane. 

That part of the story had facilitated the creation of the Equestrian Precursor Society, along with the almost deific reverence they gave to the Precursors and their creations. Twilight knew now that the story was more nuanced. Her apprentice had not arrived as the ambassador from a world of perfect harmony, and she had not come to usher in Equestria's golden age.

Twilight was no stranger to prophecies and predictions. Precognition and postcognition were legitimate magical disciplines, even if the former had become quite illegal and the latter was highly restricted and obscure. Swimming against the currents of time was a dangerous business, as Twilight herself could attest. But relying on the visions of another was no crime. That was how she had known about the return of Nightmare Moon when nopony else had. Clover was as legitimate a source as Starswirl, even if this ancient unicorn wasn't her idol.

She scanned the long scroll with her eyes, until she found something that stuck out to her. She had been translating the ancient document often enough that understanding the words was coming more and more naturally to her. It didn't take hours for each sentence as it had at first. So perhaps her early study of the non-restricted part of the document had counted for something. She poured every ounce of her considerable Alicorn intellect and concentration into the labor, and was able to read at only slightly less than the average reading speed of an ordinary pony. As it turned out, the part she was looking for was scarcely more than a paragraph, hidden at the bottom of the Manuscript. It was so short in fact that she nearly missed it.

"The Builders come as heralds of doom, as this is their calling. The first doom averted, but the second inevitable. When the feet of builders again trod Equestrian soil, they come with a choice. Two choices for two dooms, made at Twilight. Equestria will burn, or forever altered. Two choices for two dooms. Order or Chaos. Ponies or Builders. When they come, fire. When they come, change. When they come, death."

The Alicorn leaned close to the page, scrutinizing the pages for anything she might have missed. Could there be some sort of code here that would explain the vague words of her prophecy? She couldn't think of any other reason to be so general with what she said. What was it about ancient prophecies being written in such a vague way that they could mean anything?

She didn't find any code hidden in the words. She spent nearly an hour turning over the scroll under every scrutiny and code-breaking spell she knew. For all her talent and skill however, she lacked the subtlety and precision-manipulation of Clover the Clever at the height of her power. While she poured power into the scroll searching for codes and secret messages, she completely missed the spell she was powering with her own energy, until it was too late and her body simply dropped unconscious right where she was standing.


* * *


For the third night in a row, Second Chance dreamed alone. It was a worse feeling than just being abandoned, since Luna was no ordinary pony and (in Chance's mind) not the sort of pony who ever could leave her alone.

Second Chance was not a pony in this dream, but she was still a child. She wasn't on Equestria, and she wasn't on the moon. Rather, she was somewhere in-between. Great trees, each as large as the Golden Oak Library, rose around her from the pale lunar soil. Only it wasn't dust, it was ash, and it burned her bare feet with a heat the moon only knew in the infrequent asteroid impacts.

She walked on despite the pain, bare feet never burning but never failing to feel the pain. There were no stars in the sky, a damnable gulf that stretched for maddening eternities. The blackness above was worse than empty. She knew the mad things watched her, with eyes that were not eyes and nothing even close to a mind as she understood the concept. Discord had said that she knew the awful things that waited beyond the physical universe. He had been right.

A chill breeze passed over her bare skin, forming a thin patina of frost and making every movement painful. Whoever said pain didn't exist in dreams was an awful liar.

She was looking for something. She didn't know what, didn't even know for sure it could be found, yet still she looked. She was needed somewhere, and had to get there before she was too late.

It hurt too much to run, it hurt too much to even think about running. Unlike being a pony, where she could walk for many hours without even the beginnings of exhaustion, she had moved only a short distance and already started to ache. It was a fight to keep moving and yet she knew she had no choice.

As Chance stumbled on, the wind seemed to whisper to her, rustling thousands of leaves all around her. In little clouds they broke apart from the trees above, showering the gray in their yellows and oranges and reds. As she walked, the whirlwind lifted them briefly from the ground, some already burning. They formed strange shapes in the wind, shapes that had voice and forms almost familiar enough for her to identify. "Chance," they each seemed to say, in the same strained and haunted voice. "Chance, don't go."

But she ignored them. She wasn't about to be tricked. The Strange Ones that waited in the void had many ways, but in all they waited to deceive. She would not be stopped in her mission when she was so close.

"Don't go!" said the leaves in front of her, forming a shape nearly twice her height and thicker by far. It was enough that it was almost solid, or close enough to solid that she started to see something familiar in it.

"NO!" Chance screamed at the outline, only there were two of her now and not one. There was a pony outline beside her, with green fur and a yellow mane and a cracked horn. Strangest of all they were both the same size, though something about that seemed wrong somehow. She was both of them together and not one. "You can't stop me!"

However frightening the figure might be, it was still only a phantasm of leaves and wind. She pushed through it, and in a scream of frustration it exploded into a thousand individual leaves. Each one drifted away, powerless to stop her advance as she neared whatever strange destination had been calling her.

She heard it first, the crashing of distant waves like the bay she had passed every day in her childhood. She could feel those memories in the sound of the water, and she took courage.

She had been right in at least one respect; in shape at least it was the Elliott Bay of her childhood. Yet in every other respect, it was an alien place, and worse than anything she had seen in the forest of strange trees.

It was not a bay of water that washed upon lunar sand, but a bay of bones. An uncountable sea of bleached skulls and femurs and every other bone she knew rippled to chthonian currents. She was hearing waves, but it was not water crashing to shore. It was only in their vastness she had mistaken the noise. She did not know what caused them to move, but she could tell the tide was coming in. In the far distance, she could make out the skyline on the other side of the bay, skeletal towers with missing windows and metal supports blackened by nuclear fire.

She screamed, two voices and then one again, from a human mouth. Fingers groped for support, something, anything she could use to hold herself up. She found nothing, and tumbled to her knees. The ground still burned, but she almost did not notice the pain over her fear. Something moved in the waters of the bay, something that knew she was here. The tide was rising, but only inasmuch as it was coming for her.

Three figures emerged from the ocean of the dead, putting on rotten flesh and half-burned clothes as they advanced. She was paralyzed with fear, far too weak to struggle. As they drew nearer they became more alive, though there was no mistaking the rot and the burns. It was her family; the part of it that hadn't survived. Her father still in the armor of his unit, which had served him not at all as protection from the bombs. Her mother and brother in civilian cloth, more badly burned. They all had eyes to look at her, with the hatred of the limitless abyss. She had never seen such evil in a human face before, not from the most heartless war-criminals.

"You didn't save us," her mother said, her voice distant and feeble. Though she opened her mouth, it came from the ocean and not from her body. "You watched us die and did nothing."

"No!" she yelled, sounding even weaker than the dead. "I was just a child! There was nothing I could've done then! It was only an accident that I lived!"

"And what did you do with it?" Her father's voice was a little stronger. Perhaps his flesh had been slightly better preserved by his armor when the bombs actually fell. "You were no daughter of mine."

"I... I tried! All of us did! Saving Earth was our whole life! I did everything I could!" Then, a little louder, "I died for you!"

Her father ignored her. "No daughter of mine. My daughter would have done my works. Instead you have forgotten us." He stepped aside, so she could see across the bay. Even as she watched, another great structure tumbled, collapsing under the weight of advancing years. It fell into the sea, sending a splash of white high into the air.

"I didn't forget you!" she tried to shout, but found the words strangled in her throat. It hurt too much to argue with the dead, particularly when their words rang so true.

"You forgot me," her brother said, his voice smallest of all. "You left me to die, and then you forgot me."

"No!" She tried to reach toward them, rot or no, but found they retreated from her. She crawled along the ground toward them, and yet when they touched the sea they melted away, in a single pained scream and the distant rumble of an atomic bomb whose flash she did not see. Yet in the rumble she saw a distant wave begin to rise, a wave of bones large enough to crest the trees behind her and to sweep her away to reaches unknown.

"You will not escape twice," whispered a quiet voice, truer than any of the others she had heard. "You will be with them again, in realms untrod and paths unfollowed. We missed you."

"No more!"

The moonlight came. Chance hadn't realized until then just how dark her dream had been, because when the moonlight came it was bright enough to blind her. Yet in the fire of night there was no pain, no pain like the scorching soil on bare skin or the words of the dead. She was not alone anymore, not like she had been.

As the Nightmare took shape beside her, Chance found she too was more distinct, more real. With each receding wave the currents had taken something of herself with them, and the return of the Nightmare brought them back. She resolved into the self she had known for the last few months, with green coat and sturdy hooves that didn't feel the burn of the soil anymore. Besides, this way made it easier to shelter beside the thick armor and imposing strength of the newcomer, her friend who had not abandoned her after all.

"Peace," the princess said. Chance felt the calm at once, the gentleness of soft pillows and loving embraces that took all the dark away. There was no place for fear now, even though nothing had changed and the danger had not passed.

Intricate runes burned themselves into the soil all around them, runes whose names she did not know from all her study with Twilight. Also unlike any of her previous dreams, Princess Luna was wielding a sword. A terrible light came from Achelois, a sword like the ice of comets hammered in the chill of space.

"Just... Just let it kill me," she pleaded, her voice a meek whisper over the growing roar of the ocean. "I'll just wake up."

"You wouldn't." Luna's voice was harder than her armor, the sword high in her magical grip. She did not look at Chance, but up at the wave. It was not Chance's imagination that an awful face was forming itself there, without anything resembling humanity or even sanity. The wave was no wave at all, but an indomitable, alien will. 

"You may not have this one!" Luna seemed to care not for its size, or its strength. The distant city crumbled before it, yet she did not falter. "Many others you have taken, but this one is mine!"

This time the voice that answered sounded nothing like her parents. "She came to us first; she is ours by right. You may protect your ponies, but you cannot protect her. She is one of us, and ours to take." The wave loomed above them now, vaster beyond any of Earth's dead cities.

"They lie." She felt a protective wing around her, holding her close against the alien presence. "They haven't taken an Equestrian in a thousand years, and even her they couldn't keep. Stay close to me."

Chance closed her eyes as the wave crashed upon them. She felt Luna's magic more than she saw it, like moonlight beaten into metal and wrapped around them. The power burned hot, far hotter than the lunar soil, but it didn't burn.

Something roared, dragging at her hooves, trying to force her away from Princess Luna. Chance clung desperately to her, with her will as much as her hooves. She was lifted off the ground, buffeted about as though she were standing in a gale. "Don't let them take me!" she cried, with more force than she had before. "I don't want to go back!"


* * *


No crushing weight came, nor was the light of Luna's sword ever wholly extinguished. Eventually the rush faded, and in a flash it was gone. The sound of the distant ocean faded along with the rustling of the leaves and the heat burning at her hooves.

When she opened her eyes, she was back on the moon, with its familiar craters and the numberless stars. The familiar blue of her homeworld was there, a distant blue glow set beside a distant sun.

Luna released her then, though Chance clung to her for a full minute after, her whole body trembling. Luna did not rush her. She simply waited. Slowly, though in the dreamtime nothing really felt slow, Chance found her heart stopped racing and her emotions began to clear. She took several deep breaths, then sat on her haunches in the lunar soil.

"It is done." The princess removed her helmet, levitating it into the air and then dropping it. As it fell, all her armor vanished. She even lowered the sword, though that gesture was more reverent. There was greater respect in that expression than in the way she handled the armor.

"What was that?" Chance didn't scream, she didn't yell, but the question she really wanted to ask remained unspoken. Why did you take so long?

"Demon," Luna answered, gesturing vaguely upward with a hoof before sitting down beside her. "Or more than one. There is no difference." She sighed deeply. "I know more about them than most in Equestria. Perhaps you remember why."

Chance nodded, though she didn't like how sad Luna looked. "That wasn't an ordinary dream." A long silence, and Luna said nothing. Chance went on. "You saved my life, didn't you?"

Her companion nodded slowly. "We almost didn't. Death is not so fearful a thing, but that being did not bring death. A few moments more, and you would have been lost forever."

Chance didn't know what to say to that. She really didn't want to say what she wondered most. In the end though, her shock and her curiosity overcame, and she asked the question anyway. "Discord came days ago. Ever since, I've been having nightmares." As close as Chance actually dared come to asking the question, anyway.

Princess Luna's response came only after a long delay. "I have been unable to reach you until this moment." Her voice was pained. "It has taken this long to devise the spell that made this conversation possible. It nearly failed; at first I was afraid you couldn't hear or see me."

"That was you!" Chance sat a little straighter, eyes wide with recognition. "Those ghosts and the creepy voices! You were doing that!" She wasn't angry; if anything she sounded amused.

"That would explain why you ran." Was it just Chance’s imagination, or did she sound exasperated?

"Why, though? You're the Princess of the Night! Discord couldn't do anything that stopped your powers from working on me, could he?"

"I do not think so, young filly, not without serious damage. Oneiromancy is a complex and delicate art, and the changes he would have to make to your mind to make me unable to pierce your dreams would be serious and easy to identify." She moved one hoof idly through the dust of the lunar surface, as though she were tracing something.

Chance glanced down to see what it was, but could make nothing of it. With a shrug, she lifted a rock in her magical grip and hefted it out over the crater's edge. At least in dreams her magic still worked.

Luna went on. "Discord did do something to you, though. I suspect he did not fully comprehend the consequences."

"My memories." She hefted another stone, this one nearly as big as her head. She manipulated the magic easily here, as she had before all this had started. Before Discord had arrived, she had been able to manipulate masses an order of magnitude greater than her own, or several smaller objects at once. An imaginary stone gave her no trouble. "They're back now, all of them. I remember everything." Even as she said it, the space around her seemed to darken.

It wasn't just that the space above seemed to be getting darker. Luna beside her seemed to flicker, as though she were a radio transmission that had encountered interference. Her sudden shout of panic was enough to startle Chance from her thoughts. It seemed almost as soon as she stopped thinking about it, Luna's image returned. "Control yourself, young pony! This spell can take little strain as it is."

"What just happened?!" Chance jumped to her hooves, eyes wide with terror. "Luna, I thought we were safe!"

The Alicorn rested a hoof on her back, pressing her gently down into a sitting position. "Listen carefully, Second Chance. Some of the memories you carry with you are more dangerous than armies. Like Discord before you, you have traveled the broad road between worlds and returned alive."

Chance nodded. It took all her discipline not to dredge up those memories again as Luna mentioned them. Yet, however much she might be tempted, it seemed now those very memories were what were putting her in danger. How could that be?

"You had barely any sanity left when you made it here. A powerful spell healed you, and masked your memories to protect you from the consequences that knowing brings. Surely by now Princess Twilight Sparkle has taught you of Sympathetic magic, yes?"

"Briefly. She said it was too advanced for me to learn for at least a few decades, but she mentioned it a little when discussing theory. It's like... You don't use your senses to target a spell, you use your knowledge of something. That's how she can teleport so far, right? She knows the library super well, so no matter how far away she goes, it always feels close. That's how Dragonfire letters work too, I think... But she said only really advanced unicorns and Alicorns ever learned it! That's like, Starswirl stuff!"

"You learned of awful Demons there, Chance. I do not know what they did to you, except that I know you survived." Luna leaned in close, her face inches from Chance's. "They know you, and care enough to try and take back what they lost. Your memories of the Outer Darkness is your anchor to it."

It took her a moment to let that sink it. "So... I lost my memories of home so I would also lose my memories of the place between Earth and Equestria?"

"Between all worlds, yes."

"But I was remembering things again! It came slow, but... The longer I stayed, the more of my memories were coming back! Not just the happy ones!" Tears streamed down her face now, and above her the distant Earth faded to a lifeless gray in the darkness. She was screaming. "Why couldn't she take those away?!"

The Princess of Stars and Darkness drew Chance into an embrace so tight it nearly squeezed the air from her lungs. It would have probably, if there had been any air on the moon. Her voice was quieter, gentle in her ears. "There is no sweet without bitter, Chance. Stealing that away would have been worse than letting you die."

Luna's embrace did not take away any of the pain Chance felt, and her words served only as a reminder of all she had lost. Yet for all that, Luna's body was warm and her hooves around her made her feel safe, like when she was with Twilight. Princess Luna would not take her suffering away, but she wouldn't let her suffer alone.

Who did that for Luna?

She sniffed, wiping her tears on Luna's chest and steadying her voice. "The spell. What was it doing? Giving my memories back piece by piece?"

The princess released her. "When your present body was created, only some of your memories traveled with you. The rest were stored in the matrix of the spell. As you became more a part of Equestria, the life you lived helped the spell cast away those few thoughts and feelings that did not belong within the physical universe. Since the Darkness only returns in your weakened, sleeping state, it seems the spell had nearly run its course." She shook her head. "What Discord has done to you cannot be undone."

She jumped, slumping onto the ground in a weak sitting position. She didn't even care that the lunar surface was cold, or that the sand seemed to grate on her bare flank. That was nothing compared to the horrors she had witnessed tonight. "So I'm doomed, then. You can't watch every dream, and you said the spell to get here was difficult. Maybe tomorrow, maybe a week from now... It's gonna get me. Drag me off forever. Unless the plan is not to sleep!" She looked up, slightly more hopeful. "I hear somepony lived eleven days without sleep once!"

Luna shook her head, sending the cascading curtain of stars rippling around her face. "Fear not, child. There is another way, but it is more difficult. The dangerous memories can be removed all at once, under the hooves of an adroit neuromancer. We are very fortunate that Equestria has just such a pony."

"You?" Chance felt a wave of relief wash over her, like a lifeboat breaching the waves after a terrible accident at sea.

Apparently it had an awful leak. "Unfortunately not, Second Chance. Were it something simpler, I could do it. Causing a pony to forget a single moment or series of moments would be trivial for an Alicorn. Unfortunately, your difficulty is much more severe. The nighted blackness you have seen is a cancerous thought, and it infects. Your understanding of reality becomes warped and skewed by its lies, and each one is an anchor. Should even one survive, the rest would resurface in time. It is holographic, the whole within the part."

"If not you, then-"

"Correct, Second Chance. The only pony in Equestria who can do this is the same one who wrote the first spell intended to heal you. My elder sister, Celestia."


* * *


The house felt emptier than it used to be as she stepped inside, removing her shoes at the door and storing them away in the rack. But then, there had been a time when Charles had two younger brothers, who filled the house with the sound of laughter and wrestling and broke things almost daily. Many years had passed since then, and neither had frozen themselves the way Brigid and Charles had done. They had their own homes and duties now, though neither had left Boardwalk-6 and they always returned for dinner. Even so their rooms were empty now, one a sewing room and the other used for storage.

Brigid hurried up the stairs, taking the first door and walking slowly into her friend's room.

Like the rest of the house, it had been crafted by hand, not summoned into reality through Datamancy. The measurements were imprecise in more places than one, but everything had been carefully sanded and finished. Bree tossed her robe on the bottom bunk of the bunk bed, where she always slept when she visited, and turned to face the display on the far wall.

The display held his armor, given to him by the king himself, steel lined with platinum and shining from careful polish. The robe and sword were both missing; no doubt with Charles at this moment. Brigid changed into a comfortable sundress Halko had made for her, and made herself as useful as possible until Charles returned. Mostly that meant breaking as little as possible, since she had never learned how to cook or clean or any of the other tasks that were required to maintain a house without Datamancy.

She wouldn't be able to sense Charles's location as she might've done in less backward parts of the Realm. As a result, she had to rely on her hearing, and she listened intently for any sound that might indicate her friend was returning. That usually worked; Charles was nothing even close to subtle and neither was his mother.

Sure enough, she heard their shouted greetings from downstairs. She made herself as small as possible behind the doorway, waiting for him.

The flowing white that the Knights of the Tower wore was elegant and beautiful, though somewhat less when someone was tugging it awkwardly off their head and they made the room smell like sweat with every step. The robes, like other sacred objects, violated the rules of the simulation and remained pristine regardless of how nasty the conditions were around them. The britches and tunic Charles wore underneath had no such protection, and were damp with sweat. 

"What's the point of simulating a body that gets sweaty and weak when you wouldn't have one of those Above?"

There had been a time when her surprise visits made him jump, or yelp in surprise. But years of training as a knight had changed that. He finished removing the robe, and didn't look away as he returned it reverently to its place on the display. "If I can fight through weakness, a proper body will make me invincible." He returned the sword, and only then did he turn to face her again. "Good to see you, Bree."

He took a step closer. Outwardly he was a boy of only eleven years, and no amount of training could make him look less the child. The sweat wasn't even that bad, really. He didn't stink like grown men did, nor was he bulky and cumbersome. Of course, spending a few decades as a child meant he also wasn't awkward and never tripped over himself. His hair was pale like his mother's, cropped short so that he never had to deal with it, and his eyes were bright blue.

Something was different about him today. Bree couldn't tell what it was at first, since this Simulation stripped all her Datamancy. She had to rely on human senses to approximate.

He might be gross, but not gross enough that she didn't fling her arms around him in a close hug. Brief, so she wouldn't stink up this dress. It might not be half so fine as the ones she could conjure for herself in an instant. Yet in some ways, the flaws made up some of the value. The method of its creation counted for the rest.

There wasn't a soul in all the realms she would hug like this, at least not any that didn't live in this house. But then, Charles had secured her affection for all time when he had saved her life, and his family had earned it in the years that followed.

Still she gasped, breaking away prematurely and her face going pale. "Ch-Charles, you're... You're taller!" Indeed, she wasn't looking down on the top of his head anymore, but directly into his eyes. That shouldn't be possible! You couldn't alter your avatar here, not like you could in other simulations. That had to mean. "Are you... Are you older?"

Her closest and only friend did not answer.

"Charles!" She took a step closer, moving in front of him so he couldn't look away. "You've got to stop! You know there's no way to put your brain back once it gets older!" She kept her voice calm only through great effort, searching his eyes for the answer he had not given in words. "Why?"

He said nothing for a time, though he did not look away. Charles had the eyes of a knight; he did not flee the consequences of his actions, no matter how they hurt.

Brigid was the first to look away, the fierce blue forcing her to turn. Either that, or it was the water of tears. "We found another slaving ring today." He strode past her to where his sword lay, taking it in one hand and a polishing cloth in the other. Of course there was no need for such practice; what looked like a sword was actually a physical representation of the root-level deletion subroutines he wielded. The sword of a knight was the most permanent thing within this world, the only thing that could truly kill. None but its owner could wield it; in the hands of any other its blade was dull and useless. "Not sure how many people they took. Best we can tell, thousands." His hand worked furiously on the blade, and under the pressure it did seem to shine brighter.

"Rescued the ones they had; or what was left of them. Not much of their original personalities left. Barely more than Forks at this point. Not much we could do."

Of course, Brigid knew at least a little of the practice. Slavery within the Infinite Realm was not about labor, for of course such things were meaningless. The only labor that really mattered was the labor that helped the Tower, and that was duly compensated. Slavers kidnapped minds from the realm, stealing them away on pirate signals to run drones and operate machinery. In a world without the precision tools to manufacture truly intelligent AI, they were harvested from the realm.

"You say that like it happens every day, Charles! It doesn't! It took those people months of Above time to find another hole in the network! How long has that translated to down here, a decade? I'm sure the Tower will find them before they can steal anyone else! Or... Maybe you got them this time! That sword of yours would've fried them even if they're using a remote connection, right?"

He shook his head, returning the sword to its place with quiet reverence. "Organics. Probably destroyed the interface, but can't hurt the brain." He turned, his eyes wide with sudden anger. Not at her, that was clear enough. Yet that didn't make the anger any less real. "They don't even think of us as human, Bree! The Tower can't afford to go after a few independents, assuming that's even what they are. They can't chase after a few thousand that might've been taken anywhere in Europe when the reactors might all stop running tomorrow. They can't spare anyone to follow them, so all we can do is react. Too late... Always too late."

"What does that have to do with getting older?" She hadn't seen Charles this angry in many years, but it did not cow her. "Just because bad things happen doesn't mean they're all your fault! There are billions of people down here!"

"Six months ago, just after your last visit, I sent a petition to the king."

She gaped. "You spoke with King Richard?"

"Every knight can petition the crown, Bree. He answered; said that he would trust me with the task of eliminating the slavers. As soon as I wished, I could travel Above. He would prepare a body for me, and a warship." He met her eyes again, his expression like a pair of blue coals. "He gave one condition; I had to grow up." He sat down weakly on the lower bunk. The anger drained from him like fluid pouring from a vessel. It didn't leave behind a mighty knight, only a nervous boy remained.

Bree slumped to the ground across from him, looking up. It was all she could do to keep herself from crying as she spoke, but she managed. "Why didn't you tell me? Six months ago... You could've said something."

He shook his head, tired and sad. "You could visit more often."

She had no retort, because of course he was right. Just because time moved faster down here didn't mean the months didn't still feel like months. She had experienced so much of life that longer and longer between these visits just hadn't seemed like it mattered much. What was half a year to the Shea?

"I have a mission." Her eyes were on her hands. "I can't tell you much, but you're a knight, so I can say some. It's off-planet. Long term, several years of Earth time at least. Important. Might just save the whole human race."

He still looked tired. "That's why you came, then? To say goodbye?"

She rushed over to him, taking his hand in both of hers. "I came here so I wouldn't have to! I get to bring a pilot, Charles! You could come!"

He seemed awake again. Was that hope in his eyes? "What kind of mission?"

Bree rose, shaking her head. "I can't say." She tapped the side of her head. "It's encrypted. I can-" she tried to explain, tried to fight through the blockades that her mind had placed around the knowledge. She couldn't. "If I succeed, we might not need to send salvage crews out into the ruins. We won't need to worry about the reactors giving out, and the Tower can be great again."

That silenced him. He rose, striding past her to his armor. "What would you need me for? This foe, are they mighty? Are we going to take the Luna colonies at last?"

She shook her head. She didn't want to answer, afraid that if she did he might not come. Yet she could not lie; not to Charles. He would be able to tell. Charles could always tell. Something to do with being a knight? "No battles... No foe. But there could be wild animals! Dangerous natural disasters! We would have minimal resources to start, it would be dangerous!"

As she had feared, the hope vanished from his eyes. "No war. A program could do your piloting for you. One of your Forks could probably do it, even." He shook his head, and tore his hand away from the armor. "Even if the king let me go, I couldn't. I need to be here." He glanced at the door. "I can't leave them."

"You would just be leaving later!" she screamed, shoving him backward towards his armor. "A few years, a decade maybe. You'd be going Above to hunt slavers, you just said so! If you would be leaving anyway, why can't you come with me?"

Charles just shook his head. "I can't, Bree. I want to be with you, but... the people need me. Who's going to protect the Realm if I'm not here? There are other pilots, but there aren't other knights."

She opened her mouth to argue, ready with one of the objections she had already prepared. But then she saw his expression, saw the rigidity and the pain, and she knew there was no point. Charles cared for her, but not more than he cared for the Tower and its people. He would not abandon them for her. She reached into her pocket, drawing out the little computer that represented all of her authority here in a full-Earth simulation. Ordinarily that meant only communication, the sort she would've been able to do mentally anywhere else. But now, she was on a priority assignment from the crown. It would enable her to activate commands that were ordinarily forbidden. 

She selected the one that would transition her to the waiting external module, for her final meeting with King Richard. She didn't even bother picking up her robes; she could make more once she was out of this simulation. "Goodbye, Charles."

She didn't wait for his response, but keyed in the activation command. There was the harsh discomfort of Transit, then nothing.


> Chapter 5: Strange Knowledge
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight was falling, in a world that lacked form, color, or definition. She fell on and on in the dark, without even the coherence to question how she had gotten there or how long she had been falling. The first sensation to flow into her mind was a voice, a voice unknown and yet somehow familiar. It sounded much like a phonograph recording, except that there were no pops or scratches, but a voice of confidence. There was great wisdom in the female speaker, along with a weariness that reminded Twilight of Luna. This was not Luna, however. "Perhaps you were wondering why I bothered to transcribe words too vague to be useful. Generalizations protect the ignorant, while stimulating the curiosity of the wise. By Celestia, I pray thou art wise. This spell contains my vision, captured in its entirety. Witness and despair."

She had no eyes, but even so Twilight felt overwhelmed by the sudden illumination. She was high in the air, higher even than Cloudsdale. Below her was Equestria, her Equestria. Manehattan on the coast, with its modern electrical grid and impressive skyscrapers. Canterlot was a sprawling metropolis, and she could even make out Sweet Apple Acres on the outskirts of Ponyville. It was all there, in definition her eyes should not have been able to capture, an image of infinitely recursive voxels.

It was night, but Equestria was not as dark as it ought to be. It was burning. Canterlot was surrounded by an ocean of little firefly torches, borne by fell creatures armed and armored. The capital had been razed, and even as she watched massive reptilian shapes circled in the air above the castle. Occasionally they would dive down and send huge gouts of fire against a shield of solid magic, which grew weaker with each blast.

Suddenly the vision changed, and she was on the ground. Princess Luna stood in her awful might and majesty, armed with silver-black mithril and rippling with thousands of shadows. It was a sight no living pony (except perhaps her sister) had ever witnessed, a sight that had driven Equestria's enemies to madness on the field of battle. She stood in a field, except that it was a field that had been burned black in all directions. As Twilight watched, a ghost formed of flickering blue light, appeared in the air across from the princess. The form was not pony, but one of the ancient Precursors. He stood tall, nearly as tall as the princess, and wore a lordly robe on his shoulders. His face too was regal and imposing, and he looked into Luna's maddening gaze without fear.

"Tell me thou canst recover my sister and win this war!" she screamed at the ghost. "Tell me some part of Equestria might yet be spared!"

The ghostly figure smiled. "Princess, I give you my word on behalf of the Tower. We will do more than win this war. Become our allies, and we will become a force to make your enemies tremble. They will be left ruined and broken, so that none will ever dare challenge Equestria's sovereignty ever again. We will recover your sister, we will rebuild your cities grander than ever before. My word as one ruler to another. Just activate the bridge."

The vision froze, and over it Twilight heard Clover's voice in the darkness. "Temporal magic is a matter of predictive. Even the wise may only see the most likely outcomes. Equestria's future hinges entirely on this one choice. Either choice has one likely outcome. Either outcome is the death of Equestria. Watch and despair."

The vision resumed, and Luna's eyes hardened. "Never!" she screamed at the ghost. "Thy demands would make Equestria a zoo and its ponies pampered pets! We shall be equals or nothing!"

The ghost was unmoved by the frightening shadow-magic that twisted around Luna, shifting her visage into that which had frightened and horrified ponies for nearly a thousand years. The ghost didn't care. "Perhaps there was a time when we could have been equals, Princess. But when my people came to you in need, you sent us away empty. Now that the positions are reversed, does it surprise you we're asking for more? We'll fight your damn war for you! We'll die for you! We deserve to be a permanent part of Equestria after saving it!"

Luna shook her head. "Never. We shall fight on, and we need not thy help! Equestria will survive!" Her horn flickered into life, and the ghost exploded in a shower of light.

Twilight watched as the war waged brutally on. But the ponies of Equestria had been ill-prepared. Their armies had been ceremonial, and the war had begun as a decisive surprise-attack. Their enemies swept from city to city, burning and enslaving the population as they went. Within a few years, Luna and her last pockets of resistance had been wiped out. Equestria became a black land, worked by armies of slaves that sent huge tributes away to distant lands while their own foals starved. Without the careful management of the ponies, the land shriveled and died, and within a dozen generations was left lifeless, a black scar on the face of Equus that might never heal.

She was back in the clearing, and Luna was conversing with the ghost once again. She glared defiantly into his spectral face, then slowly lowered her head. "Very well." She sounded defeated. "Just... get 'Tia back... save our little ponies. Whatever it takes. Equestria must survive."

The spectral figure grinned. "Princess, Equestria will more than survive. Open the way, and in a week you and your sister will be sipping tea in Canterlot like nothing ever happened."

The princess nodded and looked behind her. As soon as she turned, the figure she was looking at materialized from the ether, and Twilight's stomach dropped out from under her. It was her! Princess Twilight Sparkle wore armor like Luna, crafted from silver and trimmed with purple. Beside her on the ground was a familiar cube of metal, glowing with internal light. Somehow, it was projecting the ghost, and she was controlling it. Clover had seen her, a full millennia ago! Her, Twilight Sparkle! "Do it."

Vision-Twilight stepped between the princess and the cube. "You can't do this, Luna! We both know what will happen to Equestria if you do, you've seen it!"

Awful shadows gathered behind her eyes, and for a second Luna took on the same awful visage she had in the previous vision. Twilight was cowed. "Speak not to me of visions, Twilight Sparkle. Open the way."

Vision-Twilight looked away from the horrible sight of the enraged princess and to the cube. "Truth, run the Rift program."

"Runtime?"

"Indefinite."

"Acknowledged. Working." The air in the center of the clearing began to ripple and crack with the force of invisible lightning. Like a force was clawing its way through reality itself, the door began to grow wider, until it was several times the height of the cube and several times as wide.

It was not like looking through a portal, opaque and featureless. It was as though someone had opened a three-dimensional hole in space itself, and through the opening was an entirely different universe than the one that ought to be there. There was gray soil, and behind it, a massive steel tower rising into a bleak sky. In front of the opening a great army was assembled, thousands of soldiers and dozens of massive machines far larger than any pony. At the very front was the ghost, recreated in living flesh, with a regal robe on his shoulders. "You did the right thing," he said, and passed through the opening first.

The army marched across Equestria, freeing the Equestrian slaves and leaving the enemy in ruin behind them. Twilight couldn't know if they had been true in their promise of a week, but they had been right about victory. Soon the vision of war had become one of peace, with armies of Builders going to work helping the ponies rebuild. Great mines carved entire mountains down to dust, and turned the most rural communities into technological marvels. Soon there was a second castle near Canterlot, with a Steel Tower stretching into the clouds.

Even as she watched, Equestrian society was turned over. Machines replaced craftsponies, assembly lines that could produce more than the fastest Equestrian factory in a single day. An infrastructure of wires and energy spread across the nation, with every pony city clamoring to be the first to enjoy the benefits of the new technology. Their allies were only too happy to give them more and more. Soon every house had light and heat and cool at the whim of even the poorest pony. Machines joined with the earth ponies in farming, and though it was far harder for them than the earth ponies, the machines never complained, and worked the farms so that the ponies could enjoy more time at leisure.

The newly constructed information network facilitated the birth of an entertainment industry unlike anything ponies had ever experienced, with everything from motion pictures to full immersion virtual reality games. Their allies provided all of these without asking for anything in return, except of course to be allowed to mine a few more distant mountains every year. And nopony noticed as the number of Builders with their mechanical bodies grew and grew every year. Within a generation, there was one to every pony. As the world continued to change, there were two to every pony, then five, then ten... and the architecture of the cities began to change. The ceilings and doorways got larger as the ponies were relegated to the topmost floors. The cities of the pegasi and the weather service had fared somewhat better, though even Cloudsdale looked increasingly deserted as ponies moved to the ground to enjoy the ease and benefits of the Builders’ perfect society.

Equestria in her vision was transformed before her eyes, from a nation of Ponies to a nation of Builders. As the years passed she watched the nation grow and grow, swallowing its neighbors and their resources with promises of prosperity and comfort. These promises the Builders always kept, wiping out disease and poverty with the might of their technology.

It was bad enough watching her way of life erased, but the vision took a darker turn as it neared its end. She watched legions of ponies and other races of her world, displeased with their lives and wanting more. She watched them embrace the technology the Builders used to make them into machines, which the early generations had rejected completely. After all, the ponies lived and died in their generations, but the Builders and their mechanical bodies never aged or died. The first few generations of artificial ponies soon gave way to those who took the bodies of Builders instead, so as to better fit in with the dominant species in their teeming billions.

With that, the final blow of her people had been struck, without the Builders ever directly harming anypony with a weapon. Their war had been far subtler than the one their enemies on Equus had waged to wipe out Equestria. In the end, their victory had been even more complete, Twilight Sparkle realized with deepening and growing horror. In her first vision, Equestria had fought valiantly and died proudly. In the second, they had surrendered their freedom in such tiny bites that in the end, Equestria had been much more thoroughly erased. Perhaps in the first eventuality, there would be many survivors from the tribes who could return to refound the nation one day. In the second, there would never be another Equestria. The second vision ended with a world of lifeless machines, all Builders. No unicorns, and pegasi. No dragons or gryphons. No potions or friendly rural villages like Ponyville. No magic.

Suddenly the vision ended, and Twilight was in the darkness again. She could sense the magic fading as the spell ended, and knew it would be only moments before it was released. "Now you have seen," came Clover's voice in the dark, weighed down with immense sorrow. "As I have seen. Two dooms; the death of our bodies, or the death of our souls. So I have foreseen."

"NO!” Twilight shouted vainly into the dark, as though by her volume she might reach back through the abysses of time and argue with Clover. She had to be wrong, somehow! Celestia and Luna would never have allowed anything like either of those visions! Celestia was wise and powerful, beyond any now living! None of their enemies had any weapons that could touch them! They would not have simply stood by and watched evil armies burn Equestria's cities! Nor would they have sat on their thrones and watched as Builders replaced Equestrians with machines. It wasn't the way it was supposed to happen!

"Temporal magic is an unreliable art. Unwise is she who swims against the current of time. Yet in my foolishness, I have learned forbidden secrets. Now thou hast learned them also. So I plea with thee, more learned and more wise; neither of these futures can be allowed to come to pass! If my vision is known, then perhaps these dooms may be averted!" The vision faded gradually, with the basement coming into focus around her. "We still have a Chance."

The spell fizzled and died, and the pull of ancient magic connecting Twilight to the scroll abruptly ended. The youngest Alicorn collapsed where she stood, shaking all over with the horrible implications of everything she had seen. Now she knew why Celestia kept that scroll hidden away, and why she had restricted much of what it said from the general public. Of course, her mentor had seen it, she couldn't doubt. Probably Luna too, since she was in the vision.

Princess Twilight had been in the vision too. How long ago had Celestia seen this? Did that mean she had known Twilight would eventually complete Starswirl’s spell and become an Alicorn? Had she only accepted her as her personal student because of a few seconds of some vision?

Yet the vision hadn't been perfect. For all its accuracy, it was missing something. Where had Second Chance been? Surely at such a crucial juncture with her own people she would have been right there as an advisor to herself and Luna! Ponyville had looked far too similar to the one she knew for it to be beyond the filly's lifespan. Even more frightening was the absence of Discord from anything she had seen. Whatever else Discord might be, Twilight entertained the notion that he had feelings for Equestria, and wouldn't sit idly by and allow it to be conquered. There was no way he could be happy about all that Order that was introduced, either as the Builders turned it into a machine or the invaders a blackened husk. Of course there were other nations for him to torment, but... if the mightiest nation on Equus had been overcome, then none of the others would last long either. Why hadn't Discord or her apprentice merited inclusion in the awful visions?

But there was no more time to contemplate those questions. Alicorn or not, Twilight would still need sleep. She rolled up the scroll, and brought it with her up the stairs. After seeing what she had just seen, she no longer had any desire to study it further and learn the secrets of the Precursors. She would bring it to Secret Lore, and he could stick it back in the catacombs to rot. If only he could take Twilight's memories of the vision and bury those too.

By the time she got up the stairs, what she found did little to reassure her. Her apprentice had woken at some point during her absence, and was staring out the window at the full moon. Her mane was disheveled, coat matted with sweat. This took Twilight off-guard, since she hadn't heard the filly scream. Then again, would she have heard anything from the waking world while trapped by Clover's awful vision? "Nightmares again?" she asked quietly, lifting the blanket off and away from her.

The filly nodded, and spoke in a careful whisper. Even with her own nightmares, she had the courtesy to think of Spike, sleeping soundly. "Pretty bad. Luna was there, though. She made it better."

"Can I join you?" It was a silly question. This was Twilight's own bed after all, which she had offered to Chance precisely because of how awful her day had been. She didn't expect the little pony to say no. And she didn't. For a second, she reached out toward her with feeble hooves, like a foal. Twilight climbed in beside her, fully aware that she couldn't stay long. After all her time in the vision, she was fairly certain morning was far closer than she liked it to be when she slept.

"What was it?" she asked quietly, pulling the little filly toward her and holding her there as close as she could. Normally she was incredibly awkward about things like this, but not tonight. Tonight Twilight seemed to know exactly what she needed to do, as though she were really a mother and Chance was really her foal. It felt more like simple kindness to a fellow pony. After what she had just seen, Twilight needed the comfort too. Maybe if she could comfort her apprentice, she would feel better.

There was a significant delay before the filly answered. Her voice was clipped and feeble, obviously fighting tears. "Something... from before. From my trip to Equestria. Luna didn't let it get me."

Twilight knew little about oneiromancy, except to know that there had been perhaps a dozen ponies capable of it in Equestria's entire history, and most of them had been taught by Luna herself. It wasn't seen as a particularly useful branch of thaumaturgy, since truths learned in dreams were always suspect and Princess Luna had always been more than capable of caring for all of Equestria's dreamers. It wasn't even useful as a weapon for evil ponies, since killing a dreaming pony only made them wake up.

She stroked the filly's mane in a gentle sort of way. "Equestria is lucky to have her back."

Chance nodded, though she hardly seemed satisfied with Twilight's response. "She told me you're supposed to give me this... thing called the... Potion of Arma! That's it. She said she was going to write to you about it once I woke up, but that I wasn't supposed to sleep without it until Celestia came."

If she hadn't been fully listening before, Chance had said the one word that was guaranteed to drag Twilight instantly alert. "Princess Celestia is coming here?" She sat up in bed, her heartbeat and breathing accelerating a little. "Is she coming soon? Why would she be coming?" There were more questions, questions she didn't ask. Have I not done a good enough job taking care of you?

Her apprentice quickly soothed those worries, repeating her exchange with Princess Luna in great detail. Twilight envied a recollection of dreams that vivid, though not so much what Chance was talking about. Whatever concern she had felt about Celestia coming to Ponyville was quickly replaced with worry for Second Chance's well being. Twilight Sparkle knew dark magic better than most ponies in Equestria, having defeated it many times. She knew what her apprentice was up against.

"I'll visit Zecora first thing tomorrow morning," she said, when Chance had finished explaining everything. "She's better with potion making than any other pony I know, and I'm sure she'll be happy to help. She can make up a few days worth, in case Celestia can't come right away." Her own worries about the Apocalypse Manuscript hardly seemed to matter now, not when she knew her apprentice was in mortal danger every time she slept.

They should've let Discord stay a statue forever. 


* * *


The next few days passed almost without incident for Chance. She returned to school, returned to her lessons under Twilight's hooves, and generally tried to go back to life as it had been. Her magic was still beyond her, which meant studying with Twilight was limited to the academic as it had been when they had begun. She didn't speak with Truth again, not when they had used nearly all the coal in the Ponyville running the generator. The secret of her friends' cutie marks would have to wait a few more days yet. She never dreamed, ending every day with a foul-tasting sedative that nevertheless ensured her a whole night of dreamless sleep. It worked, if leaving her more than a little drained each morning.

She did visit Lyra after her third normal day of school, as much because her friends were all busy as because she was genuinely curious about what there could possibly be to give a presentation about. It was true she had met very little with Lyra. It was true that she had avoided the meetings. That didn't mean she didn’t think anything worthwhile could be happening in them. Chance had long-since given up hope that ponies might have had any contact with her people. They would've been well known if they had, right? There clearly weren't any humans around, or else Truth would've detected satellites in orbit.

It was strange to be in a world where there was nothing at all strange about an underage girl visiting an adult alone to consult about some specialized scientific topic, but that was Equestria. Twilight hadn't even blinked when she mentioned her intention to visit. Was it because ponies aged slower, or just that Equestrians themselves were less likely to abuse a child?

Lyra lived with another mare, though evidently Chance hadn't chosen to visit at a time when the other pony was around, for which she was grateful. She didn't like the idea of her otherworldly nature becoming general knowledge in Ponyville. That the CMC and Twilight's friends knew was enough.

The first thing that Chance learned was that Lyra was actually an excellent illustrator. Her talent for the arts extended past her namesake instrument to beautifully shaded charcoal sketches depicting all manner of things meant to be taken from Chance's world.

At the first image in the series, Chance had to fight not to laugh; Lyra's realistic style combined with her extremely limited information made for the image of a strange cityscape indeed. The skyscrapers were all made of brick and wood, with glass used sparingly and little visible metal except as iron decorative sconces and brackets. The streets had sidewalks, though they weren't elevated and there was little to separate them from the streets. She looked closer in fascination at an extremely creative depiction of an automobile, which looked like a Victorian carriage except without the horses in front. There were also wooden cargo carts, unchanged in design except that people rode in them instead of pulling them.

It was like looking at the image of a modern city drawn by someone whom had listened to a detailed explanation of a city without ever actually visiting one. The image was full of anachronisms. Stalls sold fruit, people carried briefcases and read newspapers. She could've sworn that there were telegraph lines strung up between buildings, and most balconies had little flower-pots. While there were no ponies in sight in the image, the city looked to her as one built by ponies might look several decades hence. Taller doors and the lack of anything overtly magical did not fool Chance.

Lyra had managed to capture the human form in startling accuracy. The basic shape was repeated hundreds of times in the first image she saw, though like ponies these humans seemed to wear very little. They also had short tails, which were tied off tightly so they never swung free. They wore thin metal plates on their feet, like horseshoes tied instead of nailed.

"Well?" Lyra watched with nervous anticipation, her whole body tense. A pointer hovered in the air near the illustration, which she had been using to explain each of the various aspects. Chance hadn't listened to much of that, though nothing she had heard had struck her as overtly wrong.

Chance moved closer. "Well, you captured the spirit of a city quite well. Everyone is always moving, and these people all look busy. That's good. Just how accurate were you going for?"

The unicorn considered the question only briefly. "As much as possible, obviously! Clover's records don't give us much, so I had to extrapolate. Does it look familiar? Can you tell which city it's supposed to be?"

"It's... pretty good." Good for a pony imagination, anyway. "You did a great job with the people especially. Except for the tail parts. Humans don't have tails at all." She pointed with one of her hooves, though she was far too afraid to actually touch the canvas. She might smudge the beautiful drawing. "There's a tail bone, but it doesn't break the skin, and there's no hair there. Also..." she gestured to the feet. "They don't look so much like hands. Humans aren't that closely tied to primates; their feet don't have a prehensile thumb. They're flatter, and only really used for walking."

Lyra took careful note of what Chance had to say on a notepad, and showed no sign of being troubled by the correction. If anything, she seemed fascinated. There was no sign of doubt so far as Chance could see. It was fairly impressive Lyra could be so attentive to what must seem to her a child. The proof Chance had to offer could've been easily falsified, really. How was Lyra supposed to know that the words she had heard and the images she had seen were genuine English?

"No prehensile feet, got it." The older unicorn looked up from her work. "Anything else?"

There was quite a bit wrong with the image, but Chance wasn't about to say so. On a general level, it had quite accurately captured the spirit of any number of modern cities, even if it was wrong about the specifics. "The stalls." She gestured at the many carts crammed between the alleys, offering fresh food or books or any number of other things. "Only slums have these, but these skyscrapers are supposed to be nice. I don't even think my parents ever got the news from a newspaper like this."

"They're on their way to work! Builders are supposed to always be on the go; I imagined that most of them wouldn't eat breakfast at home."

"You're right, most don't." If only she had been able to use her horn, she might've been able to draw what she was thinking on another sheet of paper.  "Lots of people order something delivered. There are these things called drones. Think..." She gestured with her hooves. "Like a really big bird, but a machine. It carries a box on the bottom, and can fly by itself. You see hundreds in the air all the time. They can find you anywhere in the city, with fresh food, books, anything you need."

Lyra's quill scratched furiously for several more seconds. "Anything else?"

Chance shook her head. "It's pretty good otherwise. None of the other details are really that important. I'm sorry I interrupted your presentation."

Lyra shook her head vigorously. "Don't apologize! I asked you to be here! I wish I'd thought about asking these questions before I drew everything." She flipped to the next page of her board, which displayed a detailed profile of a single human. The image was from the front, with limbs splayed as in daVinci's Vitruvian Man. "Clover's writings of builder anatomy describe a bipedal primate with-"

Chance gasped, rushing up to the edge of the illustration and gesturing with a sudden panicked intensity. "Lyra, Lyra, what are these?" She gestured at the apparent seams in the limbs, along with what was clearly a dataport on the underside of the wrist. She nearly shouted, voice fearful. "What is this doing here?"

Lyra mimicked her fear, though it was Chance herself she seem to be afraid of. "I-It's just what Clover said! I didn't make it up or anything!" She put down the pointer, ruffling through a stack of disorganized books until she found what she was looking for, a dog-eared volume perhaps as thick as the New Testament, printed on wide format paper. She flipped through, until she found the page indicated, and thrust it out in front of Chance for her to see.

There were two types of writing; ancient-looking markings on the left side that looked almost like roman characters, and the right side in somewhat antiquated Equestrian. It was clear from the printing that both sides were meant to read the same. Chance couldn't read the left, as much as many of the letters were familiar, but she could read most of the Equestrian if she struggled.

Lyra had marked up the volume with highlights and underlines of various sections, and on both sides. Could she read the ancient Equestrian?

I was at first struck with fear at the sight of the Builders, finding their appearance a simulacrum of flesh. They moved with perfect regularity, as though every individual danced along to the beat of the same silent drum. Though clothing appeared to be universal, many of the females wore little enough that I could clearly see the division of limbs. Without fur, it was possible to see the seams. Most had small openings under the right wrist, whose purpose I could not guess. They did not bleed or show any other signs of injury, though few golems bleed.

It did not take long to-

Chance pushed the book away, disgusted.

"What's wrong?"

She shivered. "This Clover, the one who visited my world."

"Was she wrong? Her writings have been translated several times, it might not-"

"No, she wasn't wrong. It's just... my guess is, she visited somewhere in Europe or the Middle East." She shoved the book over to Lyra. "That description matches a Steel Tower city."

The unicorn levitated the tome back into the air, brushing the dust from its cover with an almost reverent respect. "I'm not sure I understand what's wrong. She didn't say anything about towers, but that doesn't sound like a very big deal."

Chance ignored the remark. She was too upset to feel bad about it. "How much contact did Clover have with Earth? What else does that book say?" She didn't feel like a curious filly anymore. She was Dr. Colven, sheltering from the emptiness of space under a Plexiglas ceiling.

Lyra looked down at her with concern. "She... went on a tour of the city. Went flying through the air in a sky-chariot. Met with the king, who wanted to know about Equestria and how we lived. She told him about all the trouble ponies had back then... The hatred between the tribes, famine, things like that. He wanted to come to Equestria right away to help, but the spell didn't work that way."

Chance was barely listening now, the color draining from her features. Or at least, it might have, if she didn't have a bright green coat.

"The king told Clover not to worry, since he had some friends in the sky who were very smart, and they would find a way to copy the spell she had used. She copied down the spell, and the king sent it to the most prestigious center of magical research there was, to a place called Avalon. She was only there for a day; that was as long as the spell lasted before it pulled her back to Equestria. There are a few rumors she might've worked with a Starswirl artifact after that, some sort of mirror or something, but if she did no record survived of what might've happened."

Lyra picked up the book in her magic, replacing it in its place of reverence. She embraced the filly, though it felt much more like the brief contact of a friend than what Twilight did.

It wasn't needed. Her words already made Chance feel better. "Avalon," she repeated, turning the name over on her tongue. "He sent spell diagrams to the Avalon Lunar Research Colony. I guess that makes sense, since the reactor crew was already doing research into extra-universal travel. Which means the humans your people knew were pre-war. That's hard to imagine..." She turned away, glancing at the door. "Everything else is great, Lyra... But I think I need to go now. Is that okay?"

She barely waited for the unicorn’s bewildered approval before scampering out the door and out onto the streets of Ponyville.


* * *


There was nothing in the world more frustrating to Twilight than a problem she couldn't solve. Long ago, in the days when she had been a powerless little filly without many friends, she had decided that knowledge could solve any problem. All she had to do was discover which knowledge was required for a particular situation, and correctly apply it. Her strategy had worked, and she had become a princess as a result. Even spells Starswirl couldn't complete were no obstacle to her.

But why did she feel so helpless now? She had already bought a sizable jug of the potion Luna ordered for her apprentice, a simple task since it was such a ubiquitous brew. There was nothing particularly troublesome about a few days of sleeping draft. No, what disturbed her was the implication that without it, her apprentice would have her spirit ripped out of her body and dragged off to... somewhere.

It wasn't that Twilight didn't trust Celestia with her apprentice's life. It wasn't as though she didn't think her own teacher would be far better at solving whatever this strange problem was. It was, rather, that Twilight didn't even understand why her apprentice was in such danger. Even Discord wasn't so dangerous that the only way to fight him was to run away. Her friends had proven that, and proven it even more by reforming the alien creature.

Maybe whatever was threatening Chance could be reformed as well, or blasted out of existence with – well, they didn't have the Elements anymore. Just because this enemy was new did not mean that knowledge did not exist to conquer it. Even if Celestia planned on resolving the danger in this one case, maybe Twilight could bring together the lost knowledge required to solve it forever.

The trouble was, she could find almost nothing in any of her books about the creatures Chance had described. She found a promising lead in a musty history text, describing a being called Arabus that had fed on the spirits of living ponies. Unfortunately, the book contained very little of what power the being had used or how it had been defeated.

In the end, the only book she could find among the hundreds of her library was one she had already read half a dozen times. She had read it, because it was the closest thing the unicorn tribe had to a religious text.

Twilight had never had time for such abstract, inapplicable learning, even if her parents had been more traditional. Yet, out of all the old faiths the tribes had once practiced, this was the only one Celestia hadn't discouraged. The thin book contained no rituals, no prayers, though it did contain a creation myth.

"What are you reading?" The little voice came from so close that Twilight jumped, causing a stack of books behind her to tumble in an uneven heap. The wanton tearing of so many bindings nearly took the breath from her, though she managed to stop herself from gasping this time.

"Sorry, Chance. I didn't hear you come in!" Twilight exhaled, counting to ten in her mind before opening her eyes again and lifting the books with her magic, returning them to an ordered stack.

"I know. That's how I knew you were reading something interesting." The filly strained to get a look at the slim volume Twilight had spread on the table. 

Twilight gently pushed her to the side, closing the book with a faint pressure from her magic."You wouldn't be interested in this," she said, lifting the book out of Chance's reach. She expected the pony to tug back, but the resistance never came. "A mentor is supposed to teach facts, not mysticism."

If she had expected that remark to settle the filly's curiosity, she was sorely disappointed.

"Mysticism... like religion? Do ponies have religion, Twilight? " Chance sounded very small as she spoke, her voice as feeble a squeak as ever.

"I'm not sure I understand the question," Twilight replied. Twilight just sounded confused. "There have been half a dozen versions of the Precursor Cult over the years, probably more that have gone undocumented. Prior to the uni-"

Chance cleared her throat loudly, silencing Twilight's impending lecture. "Not in the past, Twilight. Are there... Do ponies worship anything these days? Do they say prayers and read from special books and do rituals and stuff?" Then a pause. "What's in that book?"

"Oh." There was a pause, then a confused look. "Some ponies do. Depends where they came from, their upbringing, families. Generally religion is falling out of favor in most parts of Equestria, though." She fell silent for a moment, but at Chance's intense expression, she continued. "Plenty of ponies used to worship Celestia, despite all she did to discourage it. Earlier-"

"Did your family? Did you?"

Twilight wrapped her wing around the filly. Twilight hardly knew where the instinct came from. It wasn't as though her parents had ever taught her the power of a wing-hug. Yet wherever the instinct came from, it was instinct somehow, impossible to completely ignore. "What's this about, Chance? You've never asked about this before..."

Chance shook her head vigorously. "Just... I was just wondering. Ponies don't seem like they need it."

Twilight sighed with relief. "Ponies don't need it. The Griffins have an organized religion, with strict rituals and rules. Zebra tribes revere many tribal deities, as well as giving reverence to their ancestors. Ever since the unity of the tribes and the founding of Equestria, ponies have been free to believe whatever they wanted – usually nothing. Ponies have tried to worship Celestia in the past, but... she won't allow it."

"But why are you reading about it now?"

Twilight shrugged, though there was no reason to conceal the truth from her. "I'm looking for all the information I can on the demons that are trying to hurt you. Only, any books that would have anything substantial have been destroyed, since studying Outsiders is considered Sorcery."

"So you thought that you could learn about demons from a religious book?" Chance chuckled, though her expression was dark. "If yours are anything like ours, they probably aren't very accurate." A shiver ran through her body, her eyes becoming distant and haunted. "Probably for the best."

"You know more?" Twilight couldn't restrain her curiosity. She reached for her pen with her magic. "It would be extremely helpful if you could tell me everything you know. Since you never studied Outsiders, the things you learned wouldn't be illegal."

Chance appeared to consider that a moment, glancing briefly at the book on the desk. She seemed to be deep in thought, and Twilight feared she was about to say no. She didn't, though. "How about... you tell me what pony religion says about them, and I'll tell you what's right and what isn't."

Twilight took a deep breath, levitating the book off the table and closer to her. "Before I show you any of this, I wouldn't be a good teacher if I didn't make sure you understood that none of this is actually true. Don't take this the same way you take my magic lessons. Magic is testable and repeatable, but-"

Her lecture was interrupted by near hysterical giggling from the filly.

Twilight stared, dumbfounded. "What's so funny?"

It took the filly several seconds to collect herself enough to respond. "Oh, it's nothing. I just thought about what some of my friends back home might've said if you told them that magic was testable and repeatable."

Twilight wasn't sure what to say to that, so she just kept on going. "Well, the story goes like this. In the beginning, two forces existed: Destruction and Protection. They existed in perfect harmony; neither could out-step the other. In their balance the stars and planets were formed, as their harmony allowed the natural cycle of nature to proceed. Yet neither force was satisfied. Protection wanted beings who could appreciate its creations, and Destruction wanted to tear the stars from the sky. While they were in harmony, neither force could overmaster the other, and so nature continued its course. Life emerged, and grew in complexity. Yet just as the forces of the universe were in balance, so they were in balance in the animals, which weren't aware or intelligent the way they are today."

"Protection couldn't kill Destruction, since it was completely against its nature. Yet it could not watch forever as time advanced endlessly in a universe that had no eyes to experience itself. So that force hatched a plan; it tricked Destruction."

"How?" Chance listened with rapt attention.

"In every species, exactly equal amounts of Protection and Destruction were invested. This was because if one instilled more of itself than the other, then that force would become weaker, and the other would rule. As the Alicorns rose, Protection invested more of itself in them than any other living thing, and Destruction seized on the opportunity. Destruction was sure that in a few thousand years, the disparity between itself and Protection would become so great that it could snuff the sun and send Equus careening madly into the void."

"Destruction underestimated the Alicorns," Chance supplied, scooting a little closer to look at the illustrations as Twilight flipped through the book.

She nodded. "Never before had a species ever had more of one than the other. Blessed by Protection's magic, the Alicorns opened their eyes and understood. They became Protection's allies, and quickly rose to be more powerful as a species than either of the old powers. Since they contained the power of both beings, they could destroy as well as protect. The war was terrible, yet in the end the Alicorns triumphed and cast Destruction Outside, never to destroy again."

"Protection was very weak; it had invested the greatest part of itself in the Alicorns. Without its old rival, it freely sacrificed all its power, its very essence, to give understanding to the other races of Equestria. Ponies broke from their herds and could see as the Alicorns could. Griffins and dragons took to the sky and became mighty hunters, zebras and minotaurs and all the rest became intelligent. Protection even opened the understanding of the animals."

"So in this story, the demons and stuff are really just Destruction, furious about being kicked out of the world?"

Twilight nodded again. "That's about right. There are plenty of variations. Sometimes the powers are pictured as a pair of ancient Alicorns named Cosmos and Galexia. Other times they get mixed up in the stories about Precursors, in which you were Protection's first attempt, but you were too much like it to be able to fight destruction, and so you lost where the Alicorns won."

Chance laughed bitterly at that. "I'm not so sure about that. Considering the way 'Precursors' acted, I wouldn't be surprised if Destruction made us in this story." She sighed, sitting back on her haunches. "I suppose that could be where the Outsiders came from. There is no time Outside; seconds stretch into infinity and pass in nanoseconds. When I first got to Equestria, I was lucky I was still even a little bit sane. I don't think three-dimensional finite minds are meant to experience a dimensionless, infinite abyss. Are... are Protection and Destruction gods in this story? Does the story explain where they came from?"

Twilight shut the book, returning it to the table. "Not in the versions of the story that are most popular today. They were natural forces. Like wind, or gravity, or magic. Actually, according to the Mythology, magic is the power of Protection expressed; the bit of itself within every pony is what channels magic. Dark magic is likewise the power of destruction, channeled through the tiny bit of it within everypony. That's why unicorns like Sombra were so dangerous, despite not having much magical aptitude. Different ability completely."

"I think... I think the things I saw might match that. They did feel more like forces than intelligent beings the way you usually think about it."

"That's heavy," a new voice agreed, from just around the corner. Twilight turned and saw Spike was standing there, sipping from a mug of tea that had long gone cold.

"Spike, have you been hiding around the corner this whole time?"

The dragon nodded, shame faced. "Most of it."

"You could've joined us, Spike. It's not like we were talking about anything secret." Twilight levitated the book so he could see the cover. "Haven't you read this before?"

"I guess. Not enough dragons in it." He looked to Chance. "You sure your world didn't have any?"

The filly rose to her hooves again, nuzzling him. "Not unless you count the ones in movies. Most of those were mean, and they didn't actually exist. Computer generated."

"Yeah." He lifted the mug to his mouth, exhaling a steady stream over the surface of the tea until it steamed again. "You said something like that. I guess I just hoped that since you remembered more, you'd remember more about dragons."

She shook her head, looking back towards Twilight. "Do you need me for anything else? Are we going to have lessons today?" Her eyes fixed on the ground. "I... My horn still isn't working right..."

"No, I don't think so. Were you planning on doing anything with Spike?"

The filly's face brightened. "Now that Truth's working, I was hoping to use it to make a tablet computer." She looked over to Spike. "Wanna help? If we can find all the raw materials, I could show you one of our dragon movies. There was one series I really liked when I was little..."


* * *


"Everything is secure, Queen Chrysalis." The changeling lowered her head in respect, though Chrysalis felt nothing of the real emotion that would've been behind it. She didn't move close to embrace the supplicant in the traditional way; she had not forgotten how many times this creature had tried to kill her.

Her advisor's twin did not bow, though more genuine respect seemed to be emanating from him. But then, even an eldritch will would have difficulty resisting the instincts of a changeling drone. "We are more than capable of ensuring this mission is a success, Queen. You do not need to go out of your way and travel with us. We know how to transport precious cargo."

She strode past the two of them into the cargo car, passing between dark crates and machines strapped securely to the walls. She found what she was looking for exactly where she expected, wrapped in blankets and tough padding. It was a cell of wax covered with protective slime. The future of her species waited inside, curled tightly against the motion and the dark.

"We are familiar with the procedure," the female said. She had an alien name once, just like her twin. It had been so long since they used them Chrysalis no longer remembered what they had been. "You could remain with the hive; you do not need to travel."

Chrysalis sat beside the cell that housed her growing daughter. "If I could remain with the hive, I would. Yet I can't be certain my instructions will be followed." She narrowed her eyes, focusing on the female. "Until my young daughter's mind is strong enough to resist foreign invasion, I need to remain close enough to protect her from danger. Or do you mean to tell me that she is not in danger around you?"

All of them knew Chrysalis would see the lie in her words if the female dared to speak. She didn't.

"That's what I thought." She rose to her hooves, moving past them to the front of the car. She inspected the blacked-out windows, the tightness of the straps. "Were the other arrangements made as I requested?"

The male nodded. "Our contact with the railroad has agreed to follow our instructions and transport this car to our Seaddle facility without allowing the car to be opened along the way. We've already bribed the appropriate cargo inspectors."

"Excellent."

"I'm not so sure," the female argued, glancing furtively around the room to be sure nopony else was listening. It was no secret that the two of them disagreed with her more often than not. Chrysalis tolerated disagreement only because they never expressed disloyalty in the presence of any of her other intelligent servants. When they were in public, they made a show of absolute obedience. Further, she could count on them being generally obedient when she insisted. If only the two of them hadn't become so valuable...

She groaned. "What aren't you sure of, Equilibrium?"

"You always template new queens with your own memories. Yet, if you wanted a stranger's memories instead, why not use one of us? Going to such great risk to use the memories of such a specific alien is dangerous enough, but targeting the apprentice of a princess is even more dangerous. Considering the disaster that was the wedding-"

"And if you wanted an alien, you could use one of us," the male offered. "Save the danger and the expense. We might not have invented the techniques she used to travel to Equestria, but we know the technology nearly as well."

Chrysalis shook her head vigorously. "I have my reasons, and they're nothing to do with knowledge. No, the two of you have been changelings for far too long." She turned her attention back to the waxy cell and the infant growing slowly inside. "She needs to have all the resources of three species, but without any of their failings. It would be easier to use one of you, but that would not accomplish my purpose."

With a loud metallic click, her servants outside shut and locked the car, plunging them into absolute darkness. It was a long ride to Seaddle.


> Chapter 6: Judgement
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Brigid emerged from the void feeling no pain. The King of All Mankind had sworn that even cast adrift on a highband laser line, there would be neither loss nor corruption. Richard's promise had come true, and she found herself suddenly conscious aboard the single physical unit that had survived the crossing. From the jagged shards of sizzling metal scattered about the field, she could tell the crossing was not as kind to matter as it was to information. Three times she instructed the on-board systems to validate her files against the compression hashcode that had preceded her, and three times she received a response of less than .0001% corruption in transit.

Brigid rose to her feet within the simulated dataspace. Her dress did not shimmer, nor was it made of iridescent mist. It was the one Charles's mother had sewn. Perhaps her last artifact of friendship with those who still clung to the frailties of organic life. "Central core."

"Ready." The voice sounded distorted and electronic, and she knew it would be capable of only the most basic of commands. She was this machine's operator, it had no AI pilot. Not that the Tower had ever mastered that technology. Generally intelligent AI had been perfected by the Federation mere weeks before the Great War began. Had it not been for their electronic allies, she had no doubt the Tower would have easily decimated such a vastly inferior enemy.

"Load operating simulation 'Brigid-1' from recent data transfer." The computer obeyed instantly, and featureless gray transformed around her into what could have easily been the cockpit of one of the Tower's most sophisticated vehicles. The room became round, perhaps twenty meters in diameter, with a single door leading out. A round holodisplay rested in the center, which soon flickered to life with a map of the area all around. She surveyed the controls and the displays. "Display external camera feeds." 

Brigid rested her hands on the back of a seat she would never use as she looked out and surveyed her new world. Dessicated grass surrounded the armored machine that housed her. The machine was small, smaller than most dogs and far more mobile, though it was easily the largest of any she now controlled. Idly she moved her hands about in the air, performing the same shallow-copy process she had done thousands of times before. This time though, she knew her resources were not infinite. She could have only one virtual assistant, not a clone for every task.

The clone appeared unceremoniously, her face blank and stance rigid. Brigid switched her clothing for a simple gray uniform, the one worn by most pilots. Without instruction, her clone took a seat at one of the consoles and began to manipulate it. Of course, she knew full well what she saw was merely a visual representation of what the clone was really doing. Each dial and control was a subroutine or a circuit, and every gesture was just another method call.

"How many functional drones in our fleet?" she asked, walking a careful circle around the map. She didn't like what she saw there; most looked more like scrap than like ships.

"Thirteen," her own voice answered, though without emotion. "Five general-purpose Termites, four Raven scouts, three assault Interceptors, and this Overlord Interceptor. In addition, the components for several more drones could be recovered from the wreckage all around us."

"All are flight ready?"

"Affirmative."

She flipped briefly through the sensors of the scouts positioned all around the clearing, ensuring none of the natives were close enough to watch her hidden fleet take off. Only when all three returned negative contact did she gesture. "Take us up, then. Not too fast; I want to get a good look around."

The Steel Tower might not have ever mastered generally intelligent AI, but specific functions like flying drones were trivial. There was no shaking in the cabin as her drone rose into the air, as they might've felt had they been tiny humans contained in a real cabin instead of intangible samplings of data contained in digital memory. Parched field grasses gave way to the vibrant green of their living equivalents. Trees rose up around them, monoliths of living wood. Plump bumble bees buzzed between wildflowers, while birds flitted from tree to tree. Brigid switched on the exterior microphone so she could hear them all, though mostly she heard the rotors.

Even Brigid had to admit it was stunning to see so much life in one place. "This is it," she muttered, awed for a moment by the sight of a living planet around her. No matter what she wanted to believe about how she had given up all the frailties of organic life, she was nevertheless subject to at least some of her old memories about what beauty was. Humans had never escaped an appreciation for the natural world, and neither had she. "This is our new kingdom." As the drones rose into the air, her view expanded to include distant fields, and more and more solid structures. All were primitive-looking, but that could change. "We will claim this territory for the Tower. Its people will all swear fealty to the Lord of Humanity, and to me, the steward of this world."

Her clone, of course, could make no sense of such abstractions, so remained silent. Brigid missed Charles already.

"Bring up the mineralogy surveys on the primary display," she instructed, turning her attention away from the simulated camera output and focusing on the map. Splotches of color began to appear, darker where the elements they needed were more abundant.

"This location here." She gestured at a site just a few miles outside of the native village, numerous boulders strewn about, spotted with strange mounds and burrows. "Richer than anywhere within twenty kilometers. Far enough away that the natives won't visit by accident, and too desolate for them to visit on purpose."

Her clone didn't bother turning around. "Scout records indicate a shifting of the dirt around the openings, indicating an active burrow structure. The complex might be quite sizable."

"That sounds perfect; if the burrows already exist, then the natives won't think it too strange if we expand them. They probably won't even notice."

"Records suggest there are multiple sapient races on this planet. What if those who made the burrows aren't animals?"

"Given the patterns we observed from aerial scans, what's the likelihood the species that made them has human intelligence?"

There was a pause, almost imperceptible to Brigid, well shorter than any organic would've noticed. Of course, at the speed of silicon, this whole conversation probably had only taken a fraction of a second in the outside world. "Eighty-six percent."

"Well then. King Richard's first new subjects." She began to move her hands across the controls, faster than a fork could hope to imitate. "Our orders preclude conquering them, do they not?"

"Affirmative. Violent action is authorized against the native species only for self-defense, and should be nonlethal. We're supposed to have as little contact as possible with the three 'pony' species."

"Those aren't pony structures, are they?"

Again, her shallow-copy paused. Still, a fork was more responsive than the central core had been. "Unlikely. They have never been resupplied in the time our scouts have been here. Records indicate the pony species is entirely agrarian."

The fleet began to move, each drone contributing a little to the swarm-intelligence of the whole. They needed somewhere she could keep her drones while she made this dangerous gamble with just a few. Several times, drones coupled in the air, transferring cargo and munitions. Hyper-efficient solar film coated every surface, and allowed them to stay airborne indefinitely during the day. Yet at least one of the native species could fly; she had already seen several moving about the village. 

Only two of her drones were required for her plan. First, she replaced all the lethal rounds on one of the assault drones with stun-shot and nets from the other drones, and loaded the single hologram projector from her drone to one of the general-purpose units. This would be her envoy; she could not risk more if the mysterious tunnel-builders proved more violent than her information about the planet had led her to expect.

Her other drones would not waste the time; her fork could direct them to carry bits and pieces of the dead from the Rift. Enough would be salvaged from the wreckage to add another few drones to her fleet.

Bree was not needed for such menial tasks. As darkness drew nearer, the two drones that occupied the full of her concentration neared one of the active burrows, where she had observed clouds of dirt billowing out during the day. They landed smoothly on the dirt, folding delicate wings away and scurrying along like beetles.

They didn't have very far to go before they saw the first natives. Bree gasped at the sheer size of the creatures, or at least as large as they seemed when her viewpoint was less than a foot off the ground. A few dozen images with a laser range-finder and infrared lenses gave her enough information about them to start analyzing their abilities.

There were two of them, gigantic furred canines wearing rough breastplates and helmets of iron and carrying spears. She analyzed the muscles, took readings of their respiration, waiting patiently for them to speak. It took so long that she began to fear they weren't as intelligent as she had first guessed. Yet after what felt like hours, the parabolic microphone detected a conversation.

"You coming to the games?" the massive beast growled, teeth flickering in the light of the torch they shared.

"Yeah," grunted his companion. "I saw the prize; strong shield, many diamonds. Good fight."

"Good fight," the first agreed.

Bree didn't know what they were talking about, but that didn't matter. They spoke the same language as the Equestrians on the surface! That meant the translation program would work. She wouldn't have to stalk the creatures for weeks to get enough data to communicate. For this to work, she would have to communicate.

She activated the holographic projector on its highest energy setting, instructing it to create as real-looking a body for her as it could. Of course there was nothing she could do about her inability to interact with the physical world, or the way its light would likely produce momentary blindness in eyes adjusted for the darkness of inner earth.

She was a lady of the Aos Si, a being beyond the comprehension of all organics, least of all a subhuman race of subterranean canines. She formed in a flash of brilliant light, her body exactly as tall as the burrow would permit. That made her taller than the canines, though not wider. Her dress glimmered in the light, bare feet resting on a soil she could not feel. With only a torch to compete with the projector, she would look solid enough, pale skin and hair like a curtain of fire.

She wasn't surprised one of the guards threw a spear at her. Didn't so much as flinch as it passed through her body to slide harmlessly in the dust. The other of the guards was too frightened to strike. "I come as an emissary of peace," she said, high voice echoing from the speakers in both drones. It gave her tone a strange dissonance, one she hoped would heighten the mysticism. "Do you have a leader? I must meet with them at once."

"N-no," the nearest guard stammered, the one with the bravery to throw his spear. "N-no one comes in. Visitors trouble. Alpha say stay out. Ponies most of all."

Brigid advanced, her drones keeping pace behind her. The guards stumbled backward against the darkness of the burrow. Large though he was, the one that failed to throw his spear dropped it. At least they had the decency not to wet themselves. "I am not a pony; I am a good neighbor. It is customary to give me honor and hospitality. If you offend me, I might be forced to leave a curse instead of a blessing." She advanced again, focusing her attention on the braver of the two.

As she had hoped, his bravery won out and he charged her, massive muscles pounding and armor plates clanking. Her assault drone carefully selected an exposed portion of its belly, judging the trajectory and the precise force that would be required to stop the creature without killing it. It fired a single silent shot. Naturally the shot connected, and the guard tumbled into a spasmodic heap at her feet. She looked down as his body twitched wildly, making sure he was unconscious before she stepped through him. 

"It's rude to strike a guest. Worse when you don't even know her name. Otherwise, how would you be sure that she wasn't really a friend?" She fixed her gaze on the remaining of the guards, eyes flickering with emerald flame. "The Alpha; I must speak with him at once." She advanced again, and this time she was sure her sensors had detected a flash of moisture and heat. Well, she couldn't blame him. "I have a gift for him. By custom, I must be permitted to speak to give it, and stay at least until sunrise."

The guard moved as if to run; she fired another round in front of him, this time a deafening flash-bang. He dropped to his knees in pain, covering his eyes and ears and moaning. The bang was loud enough that it echoed through the tunnel, reverberating into infinity. Bree was patient; she dropped to her knees beside him as her drones positioned themselves securely on the ceiling. Barking echoed through the burrows, along with pounding paws. Exactly as she had hoped. Let them try and ignore her now.

Maybe it was the sound of his comrades rushing towards them. Maybe the pain of the flashbang had been less acute than she anticipated. Whatever the reason, the more fearful of the guards was on his paws by the time the first reinforcements arrived.

The guards did not attack immediately, for which she was grateful. The more of these beings she had to shame, the more dissenting voices she would have to deal with when she was ruling them.

She barely listened as the guard who had greeted her mumbled out an explanation, even as two of the newcomers moved past her to hoist their fallen ally to his paws. She was more interested in the strange way they moved, seeming to be able to slide between four and two legs as easily as humans went from walking to running.

They seemed to be arguing, though as far as she was splitting her concentration she could barely hear them. It didn't really matter what they decided. If it wasn't the correct decision, she would persuade them.

Eventually, the guard she had spoken to most extensively turned away from his companions and advanced toward her, though he avoided her eyes. "We take you to Alpha."

She curtsied, letting her hair billow about her in the gesture. "Very gracious. What is your name? I would like to be able to recognize the one who first spoke with me, and made this diplomacy possible. When we have become great, your memory will be kept as well as mine."

"S-Spot," stammered the guard. Was that because there was a light-colored splotch of fur over one of his eyes?

"Well then Spot, lead the way. Your Alpha will be very pleased with you when he hears the news I have come to bring him."


* * *


Chance knew something was up the moment she turned onto her street.

It wasn't just the crowd of ponies milling about the library, all of them trying to act as though they belonged. What attracted them appeared to be a pair of gleaming chariots. Despite having never seen or heard of these chariots, Chance knew immediately what she was looking at; the transport of Equestria's diarchs.

She swallowed, forcing her hooves to lift one after another, driving her on toward whatever was waiting for her in the library. She passed through the crowd, which went no further than the Guard pegasi that surrounded the library in a loose circle. The nearest wore deep blue armor, with bat-like leathery wings that seemed almost transparent by sunlight. Did they always look this grumpy, or was it just that this pony had been roused to activity far too early for his preference?

She feared that perhaps she would be sent away. Instead, the nearest guards-pony just nodded at her, letting her approach the library without objection. This was her first sight of weapons since arriving in Equestria, spears gleaming in sheaths on the side of each pony. They weren't drawn; they didn't even look sharp.

Chance stopped at the door, though of course she knew it wouldn't be locked. Even with the door closed, she could feel the magic from within. Her horn might not be obeying her anymore, but that didn't mean it had stopped giving her information. She could not read magical fields as Twilight had been trying to teach her, not yet. She couldn't tell the difference between the schools of magic used in spells, or the length of time that spells would last.

She didn't need any of that dexterity to sense the overwhelming power waiting inside. It was that same power that raised the sun every morning and kept the stars on their courses. What were they both doing here?

She couldn't stand by the door forever. With a slow, deliberate gesture, she pushed out with a hoof, swinging the door to the library open.

The furniture of the library itself had been stacked and piled near the bookshelves, all the tables and benches cleared to leave the floor open. "I'm home," she squeaked, shrugging out of her saddlebags and hanging them from the hook. The little clicks her hooves made on the wood were as loud as mortar shells in the quiet, broken otherwise only by the clicking of a mechanical clock.

It wasn't as though she didn't know who was waiting here for her. Moving slowly wouldn't make it go away. She was excited to see Luna in person. As for Celestia, she could scarcely put her fear into words. Not only was she the being that literally caused the sun to rise in the morning, but she was also the one who had supplied Twilight with the spell to make Chance into a pony. In that sense, Chance owed her very existence to the monarch. Twilight had said she wasn't a god, but Twilight had lived around her most of her life.

Chance closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating on her horn and the perception of magical fields it gave her. The sensation was similar to being struck in the face with a brick, enough pain to make her gasp and stumble. They were here, waiting in the kitchen. The rulers of this entire country were waiting in her kitchen.

At least she wasn't caught by surprise when she walked in. Rather, she was already prepared to drop into a bow the instant they saw her, as elegant as her little body could manage. This elicited a chuckle from somepony, but since she wasn't looking up, she never saw who. "I imagine it would be difficult for us to speak if you remained like that, my little pony." The voice was unfamiliar; it had to be Celestia.

She glanced up, and saw something so white it seemed to glow. There was a hoof reaching for her, almost as though she wanted to shake. Chance rose, reaching out to take the offered hoof as she looked into eyes every color of the sun.

She was uncomfortable in the padded seat, her mind spinning with thoughts that were far afield from the concert hall that imprisoned her. A low murmur of conversation swept through the hall in waves as people waited for the performance to begin. Thunder rumbled above, as clouds poured down rain above the dome. Kimberly knew that was impossible, since the moon lacked an atmosphere, let alone stable weather systems, yet it didn't seem important to her.

No, what mattered was her frustration about being forced to be here when she could've been making a difference back in the lab. Beside her was Dr. Stefan."We don't have time to be here," she whispered. "I can't believe you talked the AI into forcing me to come to this."

"You're not an AI, Kimberly." Stefan grinned smugly. "You need rest. How can you save humanity if you don't understand why we're worth saving?"

That was a stupid argument, but she didn't have time to object. The lights dimmed, though the strange glow on her other side remained. A pair of performers stepped onto the stage, to a rumble of applause. A glittering woman in a glittering gown sat down behind a grand piano, while her more subdued male counterpart sat down beside her on a stool. He quietly tuned a violin of exotic wood, then fell silent again as the pianist's delicate hands began to dance across the keys.

Kimberly found her objections stilled, the sound of the storm above fading from prominence. After several seconds of introduction, the peal of violin began to echo in the concert hall. For the first time in months, icy logic gave way to something else. Hot tears slid down her face, the hall splintering into a thousand rainbows.

Chance found herself looking up into the face of Equestria's mightiest monarch. In the dying peals of an ancient violin, she watched Celestia wipe a tear from the corner of her eye, drying it with a foreleg. She turned and looked away from Chance, where Twilight watched anxiously from over the table. "We aren't too late."

Relief seemed to sweep through the room. Chance looked and saw Luna beside Twilight, no less regal than she had ever seemed in dreams. The Night Princess was resplendent in glittering silvery armor. Elegant plates covered her back and sides, while thin mail covered the intersection of joints. A sword glittered on her side. 

"What was that?" No sooner were the words out than Chance wanted them back. So much for the respect due to a monarch! She blushed, her ears pressed flat and tail between her legs. Her first words to Princess Celestia and she couldn't get her hoof out of her mouth.

Twilight's eyes widened, though Celestia only chuckled. "I hope you'll forgive the intrusion, Second Chance. The test would not have been effective if you had time to prepare." The princess sat down beside the table, gesturing for Chance to do the same. The filly scrambled, tugging herself up onto her stool.

"What test, Princess?" At least she was using proper titles.

Luna answered from across the table, solemn as she spoke. "We needed to be certain anything remained to preserve. The spell calls up thy strongest memory of beauty."

"One of the most worrying symptoms of your condition is an inability to recognize and appreciate beauty. Compassion fails, charity fades, and kindness dies." She nodded. "Thank you for showing me that memory, my little pony. I had known humans could fight with honor; I did not know they could create such marvelous things."

"So we're not too late." Twilight sounded more fearful than Chance had ever heard her. "I don't mean to rush you, Princess, but if this is as serious as you explained to me, maybe we should talk about this after you're done."

Luna nodded. "That would be advisable. Dear sister, perhaps the tea we planned could wait for after."

Celestia looked across the table, considering Twilight's worried expression and Luna's concerned glances, then rose to her hooves again. "Very well. I apologize our first meeting has to be this unpleasant."

There was a rustling as the other ponies all around the room also rose. Twilight led the way out of the kitchen and back into the library proper. The tables and seats were all gone, leaving as much room as possible for the strange spell diagrams that had been written in charcoal on the wood.

"I... I've never seen a spell diagram like this," Chance mumbled, stopping at the edge as Luna levitated a sturdy wooden crate into the room and shut the door.

"It's from a school called Goetic magic, and I'm not surprised Twilight hasn't taught you. I would be concerned if she spent an apprentice's time on something so advanced and obscure."

Chance surveyed the complex symbols on the ground. Most of the runic forms were oblique to her, though two shapes she did recognize. The circle, commonly used in a great deal of spells, typically used to contain or restrain the forces being invoked. And from her human memories, the pentacle. Her human mind also supplied the meaning of the word. "Black magic?" As usual, she didn't dare meet Celestia's eyes. Even looking away she couldn't fail to see the cascading curtains of color that radiated from her as her mane shimmered. She felt many eyes on her then, the eyes of the most powerful beings in Equestria. Only Discord was missing. He could stay missing, since he was the reason they were here. If it hadn't been for him, all those dead memories would've stayed buried. Of course, Truth would also still be inactive.

"Not exactly, no." Luna's armor gleamed like stars as she worked, setting the intricate symbols into the floor with precision. "Though the practice hath been a favored technique of that sort. Perhaps it was likewise soiled in your world, and its acceptable practices faded."

Twilight had not switched on the lights, even though it was getting dark outside. Celestia and Luna were the lights. Celestia’s voice was somber. "There is nothing inherently dark about Goetica. Many of Equestria's most skilled practitioners of magic used the art in one form or another." The princess tilted her head to the side. "Twilight, perhaps you would like to explain while Luna and I complete our preparations for the spell."

Chance hadn't seen her guardian more frightened and nervous since the hospital. Such behavior did very little to settle her nerves. Still, the lavender Alicorn nodded. "Of course, Princess." She cleared her throat, stepping carefully around the runes and over to Chance. "Goetica means to draw out or to pull. Spells make abstractions within ponies into physical reality. For example, the wizard Starswirl was said to routinely draw out his self-doubt and fear into monsters he could confront in the real world. By conquering them in reality, he was able to overcome them within himself. Most unicorns over the years have only been able to summon relatively isolated parts of their psyche at a time. There are some theories that more powerful magic might be able to summon one's entire spirit at once, though I don't know of anypony who ever succeeded."

Luna levitated a large wooden chest into the room, which clanked and rattled with metallic sounds as she lowered it beside the diagrams. Chance turned her attention away from Twilight, looking between the princesses. "How does doing that help with my memories?"

A long, uncomfortable silence. Luna eventually answered, though for once it was her avoiding eye-contact and not Chance. "We may not have been... entirely forward with you, the other night. We did not wish to alarm you." She seemed to be expecting something from Chance. When the filly only stared, she went on. "It wasn't that the memories themselves give you sympathy with Outside Darkness. Your memories of that fel place are themselves an Outsider, intelligent and growing in strength and power. Were it not so, even your greatest sympathy would not have spawned the awful nightmares you suffered. It was that being that is even now sheltering somewhere in your mind. Discord released it, and now it festers and grows." She twisted slightly to one side as she levitated the lid open, and in that moment Chance saw her sword again, its sheath hanging close to her breast. Chance felt confident that it would be sharper than the spears of her guards.

Her sister continued where she left off. "This spell has three parts. The first is a truth spell, powerful enough to prevent anything from hiding its nature. The second is Goetica, which will draw out a physical representation of your spirit into the spell. This will include the corruption, hidden somewhere within. Within the circle, I will converse with the daemon we summon, goading it into revealing itself. It will have no choice; once we locate that part of your mind it intends to subvert, it will find its lies come into conflict with the truth of your being, and it will be separated. The third and final part of the spell is a gate, which we will use to return the being to its awful home."

"This spell is extremely dangerous, Chance." Twilight rested her head briefly on Chance's, and through the contact she could feel the mare was shaking. "We don't know how powerful the spirit has become. The last time one of them got into the mind of a pony, it caused a war. They're smart and old and clever. Worse, if it's spread too far..."

"I'll be going with it." Chance shivered too, pressing herself into her guardian's embrace. Twilight's wings enfolded her, tugging her close. The warmth of that instant seemed to go on forever. "It's okay, Twilight," she tried to comfort, her voice muffled. "I don't want to endanger Equestria. I know you're doing the right thing."

They broke apart, and Chance turned back to the circle. She saw the objects Luna had brought for the first time. They were manacles, five in all, with heavy chain connecting four to a central ring. Then came a lighter, silver chain stretching longer than the other segments, a single bright filament. This Luna offered to Celestia, who closed the delicate clasp about a foreleg. Not that Chance expected it to make a difference; the links of that section were so thin she was sure she could've easily pulled them apart if she wanted.

Chance half-expected the princess to clasp the manacles around her own hooves. She didn't, instead spreading them in the center of the runic pentacle. "What's that for?"

"To keep the creature from taking you with it when we banish it." Luna said, guiding Chance to stand at one of the five points of the pentacle. "We implore you not to cross the circle, Second Chance. The consequences should the creature be released will be most severe."

Celestia stood opposite her, her expression far more compassionate than Chance deserved. "I am sorry to subject you to this. If there were any other option, we would take it."

"I know." Chance took another look at the complicated spell. "You have to protect Equestria. I'm only a visitor."

"A welcome visitor," Twilight added, sitting beside her, though not close enough to touch. "It's your stowaway that's unwelcome."

Chance nodded. "I understand. We should... We should start, if it's okay. It's like a shot, right? The less you think about it, the less it hurts?"

Chance did not understand the words, but she found she didn't have to. This eldritch voice could command the forces of nature. Oldest of all Equestria's powers. She felt a strange pulling at her mind. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it also felt incredibly unnatural. Like being forced to use muscles she didn't know she had.

Gradually she became conscious of a glow in the center of the pentacle. She whimpered and began to scream as something pulled at her. Suddenly the pain was gone, and she was in two places at once. She stood inside the pentacle, looking down at a frightened green filly and several concerned ponies, smaller than she had imagined. Yet she was also looking up at the center of the pentacle, at a figure she had not expected to ever see again.

It was her, Dr. Kimberly Colven. She seemed to be made of moonlight, only just solid enough that she was not transparent. She had been short back on Luna-7, yet now she looked like a giant, towering over everypony except Celestia. Her hair was short in the style favored among the intelligentsia on Luna, whatever color her skin and hair might've had lost to the glow of her body. She dressed as Chance had always remembered her, in a sturdy lab coat and insulated flats, glasses perched on her nose and a tablet in her arms.

She found herself appreciating just how strange humans looked. Her wrists and neck didn't look thick enough to support her hands and head. Those legs seemed far too small to support such a lengthy body. Should she be alarmed that it had only taken a few months for her to find her own form strange?

The figure was her, and yet she wasn't. The filly was frightened and small, but she was also loved. She had friends, desires, passions. One of those was the mission she had been sent on, but it wasn't the only one.

The woman was tall and angular by comparison, and showed no fear in the presence of godlike magic. She loved no one, and nobody loved her. She felt no passion; her whole life was a calculation, determined to satisfy a decades-old heuristic that had long burned. She would save her species, but not because she cared.

"I am Princess Celestia, High Monarch of Equestria, protector of unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies. Will you obey me, spirit?"

"I will obey," the human answered, in monotonous English. Chance found her own lips moving involuntarily, echoing the words in the equestrian language. She wasn't conscious of choosing her response, exactly. It was like the spell she had felt in the hospital, but orders of magnitude more potent.

"Lock those manacles around your ankles, then the other two around your wrists. They will protect you."

Chance nodded – or her double did – clicking the metal clasps closed around her limbs one at a time. Then she rose, chains clanking loudly. Even though she knew the chains were for her protection, she couldn't help but look down at the cold metal links and feel like some sort of war criminal.

When she was done, Celestia continued. Aside from the two voices, the room had become dead silent. Maybe it was just in her imagination, but it didn't seem like the clock was ticking anymore. "I have told you who I am, who are you?"

"Kimberly Colven."

"Why have you come to Equestria, Kimberly?"

"To find a new home for my people."

"Did you plan to take our planet from us?"

The woman shook her head. "We did not expect it to be inhabited."

"Now that you know, will your species try to take the planet from us anyway?"

"No."

"Are you a pony, Kimberly, or are you something else?"

A pause, as the spirit seemed to consider that question. "Yes."

Celestia didn't miss a beat. "Very well, we will consider another subject. I understand from Discord that destruction is the ultimate fate of every intelligent race. Ponies survived with powerful magic, which your world lacks. How did you survive?"

"Rage, rage against the dying of the light." Fierce anger flickered in gray moonlight eyes, and the wiry woman gripped her tablet tighter in her arms, like a club she was about to swing.

"How? Did you fight with superior weapons?"

"All wars are civil wars, because all men are brothers."

Chance was far too engrossed by the strange out-of-body sensation that was every second of this conversation to notice much. Yet at that remark, she saw Luna nod sadly, as though it were the exact response she had been expecting.

"How, then?"

"Centuries of chains and lashes will not kill the spirit of man nor the sense of truth within him." Chance didn't know where her answers were coming from. She barely even felt like she was speaking. How were these acceptable answers, anyway?

"Did you help fight, Kimberly?"

"Yes."

"Did you ever kill?"

"For that cause We decreed for the Children of Israel that whosoever killeth a human being it shall be as if he had killed all mankind, and whoso saveth the life of one, it shall be as if he had saved the life of all mankind." What was she saying? Chance wasn't sure what meaning the princesses were taking from the spirit's answers. Wasn't it supposed to be her, somehow? Most of what Celestia had said about the magic had gone over her head.

"How did you fight, then?"

"Sacred Ilion was ash before I was old enough to take up the spear. Alexi took a sword, but it bore me down heavily, so I took up the forge-master's hammer instead." The words felt strange in Chance's mouth as she echoed them in Equestrian. More and more she found they weren't even familiar to her, and she understood what she was saying only because she could hear the English. She never disagreed with what the spirit said, though. It was speaking the truth, even if she didn't fully understand that truth.

"What do you think we should do, now that we know about your people?"

The change was subtle, marked by only one physical change at first. Chance stopped echoing the words in Equestrian.

"Humanity has proven itself undeserving of self-governance. There is evil buried in every survivor. If we had the means, we would still be making war. Murder and oppression has been the way of man since the beginning. We would be better off under a benevolent autocracy. We would be better off if you came to rule over us. You could make us more like Equestria. You could purify the darkness within every human soul."

Even Celestia was silent now, as she listened. Chance wanted to object, wanted to argue, but her lips wouldn't move. She couldn't scream, couldn't even force the being to stop talking. Though its existence traced only to magic, it was in control now. How was it saying things in a truth spell Chance didn't believe?

"You have the power to do it," it went on. "You couldn't save your sister, but you can save us. When Equestria's enemies finally turn on her, you'll have millions more ponies to fight for you. It's the only way."

Celestia nodded solemnly. Chance wanted to shout, to scream, but her voice wouldn't come. Whenever she opened her mouth to speak, the breath wouldn't come. She coughed and spluttered several times, though nopony seemed to notice. They were transfixed by the spirit, the spirit that seemed suddenly not to need her. 

"I could show you how. I understand human technology; we could prepare your soldiers to counteract what dangers remain. Perhaps construct a barrier to restrict human interference with Equestria and the converted. Of course, something so elaborate wouldn't be necessary if you had a spell to counteract the radiation. Do that, and humanity would be forced to concede to your demands... the ones alive and worth saving, anyway. A few correct spells could dismantle the mechanical ones. They aren't really alive anymore, so it would be no great loss."

Where Chance got the will, she didn't know. She fought whatever force was constricting her lungs, fought until it felt like her throat was going to collapse, and she screamed. "Stop lying to her!"

"Relax, my little pony. I was not deceived." Her horn began to glow, white that twisted along the spiral and radiated inward on the spirit trapped within the runes.

The spirit that looked like Kimberly charged suddenly at the edge of the circle, tugging the chain along with her as she ran. Her hands extended, going straight for Chance's throat. "Traitor!" she bellowed. Whatever her intentions might've been, she struck the edge of the circle with a harsh impact on nothing, sparks showering through the air as she was flung violently backward. "You couldn't save them, 'Kimmy!'" She rose, smoke drifting from her body as though the whole thing were an ember. "Give your life to find humanity a second home, and it's already inhabited! So what, are you going to be a second Columbus? Bust out the smallpox, let's massacre a few million natives? Not just the wrong continent this time, wrong universe. You've already burned the ships!"

There was a sound like an implosion as Celestia completed her spell. Suddenly air was rushing inward, a downward spiraling vortex that rushed past her coat and nearly lifted her from her hooves. Chance backed up, bracing herself against the wood and keeping her body as low as possible. Her ears popped, and there was an ear-splitting crash from all around her as every window in the library imploded. Fortunately the glass was too heavy to be carried far, though plenty of large shards had stuck in walls and bookshelves in the direction they had been pointing. The wall just above Chance's own head became peppered with it, and she found herself thankful that she was still a filly.

Within the circle, the spirit seemed to be feeling Celestia's spell most strongly of all. She was stretched out horizontally in the air, held only by the chain in Celestia's grip and the manacles on her own body. She screamed in terror, a terror Chance found herself suddenly able to see again. Something dark was draining from her body, a nebulous mass that struggled vainly against her before being ripped away. She followed the mist with her eyes, and suddenly wished she hadn't. Between Chance herself and the spirit whose eyes were hers again was a point of complete blackness, a singularity that twisted and pulled all light around it. Space itself seemed twisted and misshapen, curving the room at odd angles when she saw.

She screamed louder, and kept screaming right up until the moment when the mist had stopped draining from her, and the darkness in the air collapsed with a tremendous bang. She stayed on the ground, eyes closed and shivering. The strange duality to her vision ended as Celestia's hoof broke the runes around the circle, ending the spell. The filly found herself feeling drained and weak, as though she had gone days walking without sleep. She could barely even muster the energy to feel relief.

Why was she warm? She cracked open one eye to see Twilight had wrapped her in another embrace, holding her close enough that it might've hurt if she had the energy left to feel pain. "You did it," came her voice, quiet in her ear. "It's over, Chance. You were very brave."

She thought about that lengthy scientist, body stretched by a lifetime in moon-gravity, and how grown-up and adult she had been. Yet for all that she knew what she had been, it no longer felt like something she was, anymore. Was that good? Bad? She didn't know. She did know that however afraid she had been, being with Twilight made everything better. So she cried, cried into that violet coat until she didn't have a tear left in her body.


> Chapter 7: Treaty
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Apple Bloom paced nervously back and forth at the door to their private car, the clopping of her hooves loud enough to hear even over the rumbling of the train. There wasn't much room for her to pace; barely three steps and she had to turn around with a flash of her rose tail and growing agitation to her body. 

"You haven't been away from home this long before, have you?"

Apple Bloom paused briefly in her pacing, her mane buzzing around her face like sparks. "It's not bein' away from home." Chance had never heard her friend so intense. "It's bein' away from the ponies at home." She dropped to her haunches, looking down. "A whole week. Maybe ah shouldn't 'ave gone after all."

Chance embraced her friend. "I had to leave home too, when I was little. At least we know they'll be safe until you get back."

Apple Bloom nodded. "Ah suppose so." Her expression remained dark.

Chance's mind raced, as she considered what she could do to help her friend feel better. She too felt nervous, away from Twilight, though that was more about the alien world and less about being away from loved ones. How would she fare in the wider world without her protector? Was the whole of Equestria as kind as Ponyville?

But her own concerns were secondary to the very real suffering and fear of a friend. "Oooh, I've got something that might make you feel better." She hurried over to her single small suitcase, having to clamber up onto the seat and tug it off the rack with her mouth. It clanged on the seat, but survived the fall relatively unscathed.

The filly had to rummage around with her mouth for several seconds, her pity for earth ponies and pegasi continuing to grow. Eventually she found what she was looking for, a thin slab of hard plastic about twenty centimeters square. This she set on the bench, tugging the zips closed on the bag so her meager belongings wouldn't go tumbling if they hit a turn or some rough tracks.

The screen was meant to be touched of course, but Chance found herself woefully lacking in the fingers required. She took a stylus in her mouth, watching the glow as the device booted up.

A few seconds later and she was navigating through the various menus, searching for the document Truth had prepared. She found it, a few paragraphs of block-formatted text that expanded to fill the screen. "Hey Apple Bloom, wanna see how Truth thinks you're going to get your cutie mark?"

It was like flipping a switch. Apple Bloom's face lit up, and she hurried over to the seat, crowding as close as she could to get a good look. "Why is yer tiny book glowin'?"

"It's not a book." Chance got out of the way, letting her friend poke and prod at the hard plastic. She wasn't worried; this particular model of tablet was specifically designed for harsh conditions. "It's called a tablet. It's a computer." She stopped, momentarily surprised she knew an Equestrian word for that. "Wait, what's a computer?"

"Somepony who does math for a living," Apple Bloom answered, prodding at the too-tiny buttons on the rim of the tablet. "Pretty much the most borin' job in the world. They write books’a figures an’ stuff. We've got one of the number books at home that Applejack uses to know what kinda wood to use and how much when she's buildin' a barn or whatever." Pause. "What do these symbols 'ave to do with mah cutie mark?"

Chance covered her face with a hoof. "Crap! I forgot to ask him to translate it. It's in English... my native language. I can summarize it for you, though."

Apple Bloom nodded eagerly, thrusting the tablet towards her. Chance looked down, reading quickly. It took a surprising amount of thought to keep both languages in her head simultaneously. Neither one was academic, both picked up exactly as natives spoke. As a result, she had no mental translation dictionary. She had to read a sentence, think about its meaning, and restate it in Equestrian as if for the first time. Doing it made her head hurt.

"Well, the gist of it is that you and the other crusaders haven't discovered your cutie marks yet because you haven't been focusing on the things you're actually good at."

Her friend's expression was blank for several seconds, as she processed that information. "But how are we supposed to know what we're good at if we don't try absolutely everything? I might have a natural talent for skydiving or something, and never find out! Then I'd never get my cutie mark!"

Chance shrugged. "The surveys you filled out were about finding the things you're likely to be good at. You tested high enough in relational and mathematical reasoning that you could've landed an academy admission." When Apple Bloom didn't respond, she went on. "He had to pare down the list of possible talents, since my world has lots of things that yours doesn't."

Apple Bloom seemed to be having no trouble following her now. "So what talents were left? Does Truth know what mah mark will look like?"

Chance shook her head. "It doesn't know what the mark will look like, but Truth is pretty sure you're going to get it repairing or inventing something mechanical. Something with your hooves, something with tools. It's fairly confident about the numbers, though I didn't understand the model Truth used."

Apple Bloom was quiet for several seconds. "Ah've done stuff like that before, Chance. Made a float for a parade, once. I didn't get mah cutie mark from that!"

"Really?" Chance scrolled down the page, skimming down the rest of what Truth had said. She had to spit out the stylus to do any actual talking. "Why were you building a float?"

"To get back at a bully," Apple Bloom answered, averting her eyes. "She turned out not to be such a bad pony, when we gave 'er more of a chance."

"So you probably weren't trying to discover your talent then. You were trying to get back at somepony. Maybe if you got to build whatever you wanted, that would help you find your cutie mark." Chance turned back to her belongings, rummaging through it until she came up with a stack of papers. "Cheerilee said we were supposed to stay together, so why don't you pick our agenda? There are several contests, do any of them look interesting?"

Apple Bloom considered the papers, going through them again. From the speed she processed them, it seemed fairly clear she had read them already, because she knew exactly which one to turn to. "This one." She thrust out the flyer towards Chance. "I know most of the ponies on here are older 'an us, but none of the other ones look interesting. Most of the events for fillies and colts our age look downright borin'. Makin' baking soda volcanoes and usin' electricity to make yer mane stand on end. I just don't see how makin' the biggest paper mache volcano helps nopony."

Chance looked over the flyer. Her reading comprehension was getting better, but even so she had to sound out several of the words. At least she knew the language verbally well enough to recognize words by their sounds. "Material sciences? Why this one?"

Her companion shrugged. "Feels useful. You know, we can only make bars so big outa wood, right? I feel bad with as many trees as ya' gotta chop down to build 'em. But we can't go and make metal barns... I asked Applejack about it once. She said that they'd have to burn so many trees to make the steel that we wouldn't actually be doin' the trees a favor."

She took a deep breath. "But you're from somewhere else." She gestured at Chance's cutie mark. "You probably got all sortsa things to make stuff outa that don't mean we gotta chop down trees. Right?" She looked hopeful. "And I know all about Equestrian stuff! I figure you can give us some options, and I can figure out how to make it with what we got!"

Chance read over the sheet. The contest was intended for ponies older than the two of them. The depictions of machines and resources at their disposal were big and dangerous looking. "Do you think we'd even be allowed to participate?"

Apple Bloom chewed on that a moment. "I think... if we came with a plan, and showed them exactly what we wanted to do before we did it, we could. If we could prove we really wanted to be in the contest and not just to play with dangerous machines and waste bits."

That sounded reasonable enough to Chance. "Okay. Got some paper? Let's see what we can figure out."


* * *


Chance lay awake in a hotel, staring up at the dark sky. Seaddle was eerily familiar to many pre-war cities, right down to the multi-story hotels. She half expected the conference to be held in a Marriott or one of the other pre-war brands that had been so popular. It wasn't, though the building was a good dozen stories of steel and brick. It was early twentieth century design, right down to the massive steel beams on new structures going up and clouds of smoke rising from coal-fired power plants. She could see the ghost of her dead city in the layout of the streets. Though the taxis were all rickshaws and ponies pulled all the wagons, she could still almost see her family as she walked down the streets. It didn't help that she was young again, almost as young as she had been back then.

The transition between sleeping and waking was difficult to judge. One moment she was beside Apple Bloom in a gigantic bed, and the next she was outside on the streets, on two legs instead of four.

"Simulations of your new field patterns give us .08% Rift stability," said a street vendor wearing a labcoat.

"Not nearly enough." Stefan's voice came from a young man buying a soft drink from a vending machine. His face was strangely juxtaposed upon the tiny body, though in her sleep she did not notice the absurdity as she argued.

"It's more than enough." She tapped a screen that wasn't there with one finger. "Based on the area of the Rift, that would give us a corridor a quarter of an inch wide! Ten times anything we ever managed before!"

"Why can't you shoot straight?" Alexi tossed the plastic rifle to the ground in frustration. A pedestrian walking the other way kicked it into traffic, which in this city were ponies pulling carts. Even so, the simulated rifle was easily crushed, whining pitifully as it died. Alexi didn't seem to notice. "The Tower might be here one day. Everybody's got to know how to defend themselves."

"I'm not going into the navy, big sis. I'm never gonna shoot anybody."

"It's us or them, Kimmy."

She stopped on the edge of one of the few houses with a backyard. There was an opening in the ground, and in the bottom she lowered the shoebox, the one that contained her pet ferret. The family had her almost as long as they'd had her. Needless to say, ferrets didn't live as long as people. She cried, the bitterest tears of her young life. Her father's arms wrapped around her, holding her as she sobbed. It took her a long time to be able to speak. "Do you think... Do you think Hypatia had a soul?" she asked, her eyes fixed on the shoebox.

"What do you think?" he had asked, holding her steady.

Her five-year-old mind had to consider this question very seriously. "Yes. I want to see her alive again, so she has to have one. Otherwise I couldn't." Her mind continued to spin. "But if ferrets have souls, does that mean all the animals do, not just people?"

The tall man shrugged. Chance remembered it powerfully, because of the way the rough hairs of his dark goatee had rubbed against her arm. "Maybe. Lots of people believe animals have spirits."

She was barely listening. "But if animals have souls, shouldn't that mean the machine people still do? They're smarter than animals, since they used to be people." She nodded vigorously. "I guess everything probably does." For the moment, that realization was enough to distract her from the pain. She lifted the little shovel and started scooping dirt inside.

"Some of them believe that. Not many in the Tower still have religions, Kimmy."

"What do you believe, Daddy?"

He hugged her. "I knew there was a God when I saw your older sister for the first time. Your mother and I think the Tower people are making a mistake."

"That doesn't make any sense." She wrinkled her nose, looking up at him. "Alexi isn't God!"

He chuckled, releasing her. "No, she's not." He took another of the small shovels, helping her fill the opening. "You won't understand until you have children of your own, Kimmy."

"That won't ever happen." She said it in exactly the same matter-of-fact tone she might've used to talk about the weather.

"Really?" He laughed again, mussing her hair. "Why's that?"

She shrugged. "I hear you talking to mommy. You kept saying 'Cold War,' and I didn't know what that was, so I asked Drew, and..." She took a deep breath. "Do you think people are gonna kill each other? Like they used to do, when Grandma and Grandpa were little?" Her eyes were on the gradually shrinking hole again. She hadn't said so at the time, but the very idea of a person dying and not an animal was almost incomprehensible to her. It couldn't happen! She didn't actually wait for a reply. "I don't get it. Why would the Steel Tower want to hurt us?" She rested her hand on the edge of the hole. "Don't they know how sad they'll make everybody if they did that?"

"Lots of people much smarter than us are trying to stop the war, Kimmy. They've done a really good job with it so far. Even if something does happen, it probably won't ever get this far. China and Australia are both still part of the Federation, and we have the rest of the United States on the east. Even if there is some fighting, it shouldn't get this far." He patted the last shovel-full of dirt into the hole. "I think that ought to do it. Why don't we go in and see if your mother has finished with those cookies yet."

She followed him, though she only got so far as the door. Then she noticed the Alicorn watching by the wall. Had she been here this whole time? Suddenly she was herself again, no longer blindly repeating the memory. She was lucid. Her father kept talking as though she still held his hand, sliding the screen door closed behind him.

"I'm glad to see your memories of home weren't consumed, my little pony."

Chance slid the shovel into its place on her gardening apron. "I'm not a pony right now. I'm..." She looked at her small hands, then grinned, thrusting out five fingers. "I'm this many!" Then she shrugged, grinning mischievously. "Was there any danger I could've lost any of my memories?" She walked past the Alicorn to the little stone fountain in the center of her backyard. She had to stand on tiptoe to climb onto the edge, thrusting tiny hands into the water so they would be washed clean. It was icy cold, like the air, but she didn't really mind.

"Yes." Luna's voice was heavy with regret. "Outsiders do not understand goodness, and they revile love. Memories like this are often the first to fade." She glanced briefly inside. "Were all human families this close? It seems your parents loved you very much."

She shook her head. "Not every family. Earth had orphans and abuse and stuff." She sat down, her back to the fountain and face looking in through the window. "Not mine, though." She sighed. "I miss them." One tiny fist clenched on some of the fabric from her little dress. It was green, the exact same shade as her coat. "I never would've given these memories away."

Luna sat down on her haunches beside the fountain. It was night time now, though the chill didn't seem to bother Chance the way it should've. "Even if it meant you wouldn't have to know the pain of their loss?"

Chance didn't hesitate as she shook her head. "What good are the sweet memories without the bitter ones?" She gestured at the house. "The little girl who lived here never knew how much her family loved her; I do." She looked up. "Did all that time on the moon make you miss your sister?"

The Alicorn blinked, and Chance was sure she saw a tear running down her face. "More than any mortal can know. Even the longest-lived ponies are like butterflies to us, Chance. They arise spectacular and beautiful and clever, but die by winter. Celestia and I have been together for millennia. There aren't even words for our relationship; nopony else has ever lived long enough to experience anything like it." Her eyes were on the ground. "Well, maybe that isn't quite true, but Discord and the others never cared for friendship and family like Celestia and I. The suffering I caused..." She shivered. "...but losing her was worse. The one constant in my whole life, taken away – I pray you never experience the like."

Chance was silent for a long time. Of course, Luna was right. She couldn't understand what that would've been like. Losing her family had been the worst pain of her life, worse than all the other distant deaths the Great War caused, but she had been so young then. Could she begin to imagine what Luna had gone through, alone for a thousand years? "Discord called me immortal, but I don't feel that way. My magic's nothing special, nothing like Twilight's was at my age. I'm not an Alicorn. What did he mean?"

Luna seemed less reluctant to speak about this than she had been about herself. "Why are you asking me? It's nothing we ever did."

Vast machines appeared in front of them, huge generators and tanks of nanosolution. A young woman strapped naked to a steel table, her blood dribbling out through a grate in the floor. Fifty feet or so above her was the Rift, flickering and sparking against the magnetic bottle. The radiation would've been lethal, even at this distance. It had been back then. "I didn't expect to be intact for very long once I separated. Just long enough to stabilize the Rift from this side. Then I would go back to my body... or die, I guess."

"It still amazes me your people grew so advanced without magic." Luna rose, touching the side of the machines with a hoof. It would've probably melted if they had really been standing in the lab. "If this spell was your first, it was a mighty one. You aren't the first to escape death by fleeing the frailty of the body. It nearly worked for King Sombra, though he was not the first to conceive it."

Chance moved between the machines, stopping beside the heavy table. She reached out, taking the young woman's hand in her own. Ice cold. "You're saying this was a spell? What my people did was... magic?"

Luna nodded. "The moon and the faintest stars are both light. Perhaps humans were simply better at magic than you give yourselves credit for. Maybe you did it a great deal, and just called it something else."

"No, I don't think so. The Schrödinger effect wasn't discovered until we had the high-order energy of an antimatter reactor."

"Mhmm." Luna shrugged. "Life here relies on magic for almost everything. It is remarkable your world would be so similar to ours and so fundamentally different at the same time. Without magic, it would be so brief." She glanced across the garden to the grave. "And so cruel."

"Princess – do you think that ferrets have souls? Do humans?"

She had expected a long pause, perhaps something deep or insightful. Instead, Luna looked back to her. "Did your pet create beautiful things? Did she make you happy?"

"Yes."

"And do they love each other, as ponies do?"

"I guess so. I never asked her."

"Then what is a soul, Chance, if not the capacity to love? If ferrets and humans can do it also, then why shouldn't they have souls?"

Chance reached into her apron, tossing the trowel through the air. As it was a dream, her aim was perfect, and it sunk straight down into the freshly turned dirt of the new grave. "I guess... I guess that makes sense. What about the Steel Tower? Most of them are just data now, on underground servers. A few have bodies, but it's all wires and metal. Can they have them too?"

"Yes." The answer came without hesitation, her voice bitter and distant. It was a voice of pain, though not quite so much as when she spoke of the rebellion. "Any life that can love others more than itself is life worth protecting. Or have you changed your mind since this day?"

Luna gestured at the window. At that exact moment, her family was gathered around a table. All except her, eating and talking and laughing. She was glad Luna hadn't said anything about the meat.

"I don't know." Chance's words were quiet. "I wish they didn't. It would be easier to hate them if they weren't people."

"That's what your people teach, isn't it? They aren't people."

She nodded. "They do now. They explain the whole war like an optimization problem, as though the people of the Tower were some big computer program and what they did was inevitable. The others in intelligentsia, they act all noble about how much they don't hate the Tower. Hating makes them equals, see. You don't hate the sun when a solar flare knocks out a satellite. It's a natural disaster, not an act of war. Very intellectual."

"You don't sound like you believe that."

She shook her head. "A few of my friends... before the war, I mean... they emigrated. Plenty of people went over to the Tower, or came over from their territories to the Federation. It doesn't..." She swallowed. "I want to think they wouldn't have wanted to go to war with us, and somehow they're still alive in those computers."

"Stranger things have happened." She patted Chance on the head with a hoof. "Perhaps a lighter subject. We heard you were attending the innovators conference. This is good, since we are coming to judge the victors." She grinned. "Remarkable, what ponies have accomplished since I was last in Equestria. Will your entry be victorious?"

Chance beamed, letting the memory around her fade. After seeing so many painful reminders, it was nice to think about something else. "Apple Bloom will deserve most of the credit if we do. I came up with the overview, but she galloped away with it. Sketched out the schematics during the ride. Those older fillies and colts better be ready to lose."

Luna chuckled. "We would not dare promise to bias our judgment for thee, but... we are curious. What is thy task?"

"We're going to enter the materials competition," Chance said, forming an object in her hand. It was the trowel, though the paint was gone. Below was a silvery metal, one of the most common on Equestria and Earth both. "Aluminum." She whacked it hard against the fountain. "Well, technically it's duralumin. Got some copper too, but ponies understand how to get that already."

The Alicorn's laugh was quite energetic now. "Aluminum is not new to Equestria, Second Chance. It is, however, unimaginably valuable. We have always known of its strength, but what does strength matter in something more costly than gold?" She embraced Chance with a wing. "Thou needest not fret, young filly. We are certain thou wilt discover something else."

Chance didn't feel upset, though. She had already had this conversation with Apple Bloom. "Oh, we didn't think we were inventing it." She nodded knowingly. "Just the refining process. You already have the technology for it, but nopony thought to use it. Twenty years from now, it's gonna be cheaper than wood."

Luna spluttered, swaying dangerously on her hooves. "Y-You're going to what?"

She nodded eagerly. "Aluminum. It's the most common metal on the planet, you know. One of the easiest to mine and refine, if you know how. The only reason it's so rare is because it's reactive in its natural state, so it binds with lots of other things in the planet's crust."

It took the Alicorn a few moments to recover. "You won't be winning any friends in the nobility if you succeed. Aluminum is a store of wealth in Equestria. Far rarer than precious stones, rarer than Gold. The castle has one of the few complete aluminum dining sets in all of Equestria. If memory serves, it is worth more than whole towns."

She shrugged. "Are you telling us not to do it?" She looked downcast. And it was true, she hadn't considered what it would do to the market. Apple Bloom had mentioned it was rare and expensive, and she had guessed that knowing earth's history. But she hadn't thought about how the ponies who actually owned it might feel. Could they destabilize the economy this way?

"No, but we are glad you revealed your plans to us. It would be– wise, not to reveal your intentions. Merely announce you intend to discover a powerful new metal. You did mention it was an alloy, so that wouldn't technically be untrue. If you succeed, the benefits to Equestria would greatly outweigh the momentary instability you would inflict to the commodities exchange."

"You think... that will be enough? To get them to let us participate, I mean. We had the chemical equations all mapped out and everything. Or, we would've if ponies had a periodic table." She sighed. "We don't want to be judged unfairly... I know Apple Bloom. If we win, she'll want to win cuz' we earned it. But do you think you could write to them and make them let us in?"

The Alicorn removed her wing from Chance's back, rising to her hooves. "We suppose that would not be too great an impropriety. The Apple filly is from a noble line, and you... thou deservest a chance at the familiar after the awful things thou hast been forced to suffer through." She nodded. "We shall arrange it. Equestria have mercy if any of the noble houses ever discover the crown could've prevented this."


* * *


Brigid traveled through the burrows at the head of a growing procession. The first of the guards to meet her had been violent and defensive, as proper guards ought to be. She had expected the other natives in this group to echo this attitude, or to hide from her in fear as she passed through their burrows.

They did not. News traveled fast, and by the time she passed out of the outer burrows and into the populated center, every individual in the settlement had come out to see. Dozens of furry forms emerged from burrows on both sides. Not just the bulky males that had confronted her at the gates, but smaller females and puppies as well. With electronic precision she counted exactly 113 unique individuals, crowding as close as they could be without actually touching her.

Many sniffed at her or drew almost close enough to touch, though her escort shoved these back. She was grateful for that, though she wondered what her scent would tell them. Would they take her for a spirit? By all accounts, she was a superior form of life. More so than with organic humans? She wasn't sure about that yet.

In addition to curiosity, she was sure their gestures were respectful. Were the natives bowing to her, or was that just how they naturally moved?

"You came back," a small voice whispered from near her feet. One of the smallest, youngest-looking puppies she had seen yet. "We knew you would come back." The puppy's mother emerged seconds later, taking the small one away with an apologetic glance. 

"What did she mean?" she asked of the guard named Spot, curious. "Has this tribe already met beings like me before?" If the Federation had beaten them here, if her information was that far wrong, her mission was doomed and she would never see the skies of Imperium again.

"Long ago." Spot didn't answer, but another voice did. She turned her attention to the side, meeting the eyes of a canine whose coat had gone gray with age. His eyes were cloudy with cataracts, and he only walked with the help of another. Few of this species seemed to wear much, but this individual was the exception. Strangely colored cloth covered him, tinkling with bits of bone and little gemstones. Brigid instinctively slowed, making it easier for him to keep up with her. "They said a great one had come walking on two paws, and I did not believe them." He lowered his head in an unmistakable bow. Had she been an adult, he would've been a little above her waist. As it was, it was only his stoop that made him shorter. "Forgive my lack of faith, but I did not scent you."

Now that was interesting. "I will forgive you if you tell me what you meant," she answered, forcing herself to smile despite her fear. It couldn't be that long ago, could it? The Avalon colony's first experiments had only been fifty years ago! Perhaps their lifespans were short enough that fifty years made a difference. Yet, none of the experimental logs contained anything about another world made of matter. The Federation had been the ones to achieve that, hadn't they? "My kind are called humans, you have seen us before? Scented us before?"

The old one shook his head, with great sadness. "No, not me. Not my father, or his many-times father before."

"But before that?"

He shrugged. The gesture was so human, she almost gasped. Probably would have staggered in her step, were she an organic and subject to the frailties of life. "The stories say." They stopped at the entrance to a large burrow, larger than any of the others. The ceiling here was easily ten feet high, and wide enough for most automobiles to pass through. The walls were lit here with lanterns that sent strange flickers through her projected body. 

The one called Spot spoke up. "We are here. The Alpha will speak with you."

She waved dismissively, focusing her attention on the elder. "Tell me."

"It is a very old story. Many of the young do not believe it."

"I will."

"We have always walked beside the great ones, ever since the first pack. Together we came from the sky. The great ones were mighty in craft, but weak in body. In those days there were many dangers; changelings stalked, and dragons could destroy entire cities in their fury. Worst of all, the old enemies were already here, and dwelt in the deepest earth. They taught us how to find gemstones and where to dig for metal, and with it we built vast cities. The packs grew mighty, the greatest force in all the world."

He sighed. "Then you left. You gave us a charge, to watch over the boundary between above and below, and to wait for your return. Then you were gone, and have not been seen again." He looked up, though she was still certain he could not actually see. "Of all the packs to return to, why ours?"

Brigid didn't have an answer to that. With a gesture she hoped was respectful, she passed into the large burrow.

The one who waited rose to his hindpaws as she entered, clutching with a paw at the edge of his red vest. "Y-You're real!" he exclaimed, his voice high and grating. She lowered her sensitivity to shriller noise, and he was easier to listen to.

She had to stifle her curiosity about their past, focusing instead on the situation at hand. The procession followed her inside, filling the edges of the chamber. It was quite large, lit with firelight amplified by hundreds of gemstones. They had been set into the walls and floor, though the craftsmanship was crude. She bowed as smoothly and elegantly as she ever had to the king. The curious girl was gone, replaced by a great lady of the Aos Si. "I am called Brigid Aherne, Second Height of the Technocratic Order and Ambassador of the Steel Tower." She smiled, like a ray of sunlight in the darkness of the burrow. "You may call me Brigid."

The one with the red vest was too stunned to reply. Brigid took in his collar; though the metal was very roughly made, it was studded with gemstones. At his side was one slightly smaller, the only other one she had seen so far with gems so large. She rested one paw on his shoulder, and spoke when he couldn't find the words. "We're the alphas." She gestured at herself and her companion, though she didn't bow. "I'm Maggie, and my mate is Rover. Why are you here?"

They seemed to expect everyone to come inside, because neither raised objections as the crowd filled the benches along the side of the room. Two more of the burly guards brought in a rough wooden table, dragging it into the center of the room. "You wish for everyone to hear?"

Maggie nodded. "Anything that matters to us matters to them."

Rover finally found his voice. "This pack has had enough trouble. Ponies are bad enough; have you come to bring trouble like them?"

"No." She didn't wait for a chair to be brought for her, since it very well might block the hologram depending on the angle. She created one from light, crafted from gold and glass, and she sat down. "I have come to make an alliance."

"I can see through you," Maggie noted. She sat on a rough bench as it was brought for her. "Why?"

"Because I am a different kind of life." She directed her attention at a flat slab of stone on the far side of the room. It looked as though it were in the middle of carving, perhaps destined to become another crude bench. She gestured, and the drones directed a high-intensity laser in a sweeping line. The stone split down the center, its upper half grinding before crashing to the ground.

The assembly hall erupted into chaos. Dogs barked in terror, while others screamed. The alphas did not flinch or flee like some of the others, instead shouting for order. Brigid took the silence when it came. "We have much to discuss. I believe that together, we can accomplish much."


> Chapter 8: Conquest
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So this is everything you need?" Their adviser Confident Theory was a stern-looking mare, her mane graying at the tips. The rest of her was firm and angular, like an angry sliderule. "One fifty-liter pressure vessel, three hundred meters of uninsulated copper cable, two industrial gas burners, a rotary kiln, high-density filters, fifty kilograms of lye, nine-hundred liters of distilled water, and... let me make sure I'm reading this last one right... three hundred kilograms of unprocessed red-brown flooring stone?"

Apple Bloom nodded. “That’s everything on page one. There are actually three pages!"

"Oh, of course." The mare’s eyes narrowed. "That makes perfect sense. A pair of fillies who only learned about this event on the ride here already know exactly what they want to do. No experimenting, not a single thaumic ingredient."

They both nodded.

"No, wait, there is one on here. An aluminum crystal." She shook her head. "Do you have any idea how much one of those costs?"

"It won't be damaged." Chance sounded confident. Probably more confident than any filly should've. "It's just a catalyst to help crystallize our metal out of solution!"

"We ain't doin' our own castin'! One ah the older groups is takin' care’a that fer us."

"Right." Theory cleared her throat, passing the list back to them. "Are you absolutely certain you wouldn't rather make a volcano?"

They both nodded. "We're sure."

Theory stalked off, conversing in a harsh whisper with several of her fellow advisers. They glanced at the fillies several times. Their tone did not sound friendly. Of course, they weren’t the only ones. The room wasn’t large, and all the other competing groups were packed inside. Chance couldn’t judge pony ages perfectly yet, but everypony in here was bigger than they were. If she had to guess, she would’ve said they were college students.

"You think they're gonna let us compete?"

Chance looked at her friend's desperate face, then back at the advisors. "I think so. Luna said she'd make sure."

"How'd you talk to the princess? I've been with ya' since we decided to be in this contest!"

Chance blushed, though she didn't know if Apple Bloom would be able to see. If only her stupid ears didn't betray her. "I dreamed about it. She talks to me sometimes."

"Oh." She had expected Apple Bloom to be doubtful, or outright mocking. She only nodded. "Scootaloo mentioned somethin' like that. So you told her we wanted to compete?"

"Yeah. It wasn't my idea not to mention what we're really making, it was Luna's."

"Oh. Well, I guess that makes sense."

The adviser returned, her expression dark. "I'm not sure whose daughters you are to get permission like this, but..." She groaned. "Very well. We'll have all the supplies waiting in your assigned workroom. Be there by four in the afternoon. I'll be extremely interested to see what you do with all of this."

"But we're free until then?"

She nodded curtly. "As long as you stay together and don't leave the hotel, you're welcome to enjoy yourselves. Try to have some age appropriate fun, since you won't be having much this afternoon."

They did, wandering down onto the showroom floor. Chance had never actually attended a conference like this before, though she had seen video records of their like on Earth before. There were booths of various kinds along the walls. It was like the old worlds fairs, right down to the electrical displays and pseudo-Victorian decor.

Apple Bloom was entranced, and Chance couldn't help but share her excitement. Even if plenty of the displays they passed were antiquated technology from Chance's point of view. It was still fascinating to see what Equestrians were discovering. In particular, the ways they fused it with magic. Magic could make weak things strong, or make strong ones weak. In both cases, the limiting factor appeared to be that unicorns were needed to craft and fuel the tools.

One display in particular drew Chance's attention: a radio transmitter-receiver. The display wasn't large, and was confined to one of the back rows of booths. A pair of unicorns operated it, conversing with the few ponies who seemed interested. Apple Bloom passed it by, but Chance lingered, and her friend was back at her side a moment later.

"This looks boring," Apple Bloom protested in a whisper. "It's just two wirey poles and a light."

"It's going to change your whole world," she shot back. "Way more than any of the other things we've looked at. We should listen to them."

They waited at the back of the crowd like polite little ponies, until there was room for them at the front. The unicorns manning the booth were twins, powder blue with reddish manes. Chance couldn't see their cutie marks through the insulating jackets they were wearing.

"Hello, young ponies," the mare said, her voice smooth and sharply accented. "You find our display interesting, yes?"

"Well obviously they do. That is typically the reason one approaches a booth."

Chance ignored what passed for their rapport. "Don't you worry about the interference an arc-transmitter like this is going to produce?" She gestured at the display.

On the surface, the display looked quite advanced. A pair of electrodes was connected to something not unlike a Van de Graaff generator. On the other side of the room was an antenna, connected to a single electric light. The electrodes seemed to be connected to a Morse-code interface, sending a spark whenever somepony depressed the key. The receiver switched on the light almost instantly on the other side of the booth.

Apple Bloom spoke quietly in her ear, though Chance doubted her friend was actually intimidated by the scientists. "Chance, nopony actually uses radio. They ain't gonna interfere with nothin'."

"The filly speaks of the future as though it has already come." The powder-blue mare levitated a clipboard in front of her along with a pencil.

"As though technology could advance in only one way. She takes our success as given." The ponies were clearly twins. Though she could hear and see their distinct gender differences, it was hard to be certain. More like two halves of the same pony than two distinct ponies.

Chance shook her head. "Magic promises some interesting new technologies too." She glanced briefly over her shoulder at the other displays. Plenty of them had been fusions of technology and magic, like the thaumic concrete that formed much of Canterlot foundations. "So how are you going to deal with the interference? Once your radio takes off?" She gestured at the apparatus. "Masterfully done. Have you thought about using amplitude modulation to reduce your bleed into other frequencies? Making receivers isn't that hard if you've got lead sulfide."

Of course, Chance wasn't entirely sure of what the elements were properly called here in Equestria. Sometimes there were no words for what she wanted to say, and she would find herself speaking in English instead. Or, as happened more frequently, she found herself speaking in words that had long-since fallen out of use, anachronisms that nevertheless contained her meaning. She blamed Luna whenever it happened, though never out loud.

The ponies didn't answer at first. They didn't look blown away or amused, the two expressions adults usually took when she spoke about engineering or mathematics. "I think I know you." The stallion flipped through a sheaf of papers in front of him, then nodded. "You're Second Chance, right? Little prodigy out of... Ponyville?"

Her tail pressed itself between her legs, and her ears flattened. "N-Not a prodigy." She tried to sound as confident as possible. "Just a good education." She flicked her tail at Apple Bloom. "She's actually way cleverer than I am."

She could feel Apple Bloom's embarrassment beside her. Good. Her friend deserved to share it, since she deserved the praise so much more than Chance herself did. "Now don't you go lyin' to nopony," was all her friend muttered, shuffling her hooves.

The stallion went on. "It says here you sketched out a new way to sort the elements based on atomic number instead of mass. The ponies at the evaluation committee thought it was a doctoral thesis. Apparently it was your essay on 'What Science Means to Me'."

Her blush deepened. She gathered from what he was saying that the ponies running the booths had detailed information about each of them. Probably for recruiting purposes. Still, she wondered why these had apparently taken such an interest while nopony else had seemed to know so much about them. The only other ponies who had recognized them so far knew them as "the fillies who got admitted to the material science contest."

"Probably they thought that because of the writing," she admitted. "My mo-" as if she didn't feel embarrassed enough. "My hoofwriting isn't very good, so my teacher lets my mentor write for me, so long as I can explain it all in my own words. It wasn't really my idea, just..." She gulped. "Something I read about once."

The mare looked to her brother. It was eerie how well they mimicked each other's movements. Even though she'd read about twins who could act strangely synchronized back on Earth, it was a strange thing to watch. "You're a dreamer," the mare said. "Adrift on the vastness of eternity, you can see the world like dust."

"Science is not a discipline of reason but also one of romance and passion." Did they have to continue each other's thoughts like that? That was getting creepier and creepier the more they did it.

"So ya' ain't gonna try an' get us teh come to yer' school 'er nothin'?" Apple Bloom looked unimpressed with the both of them. "Don't got no pamphlets 'er scholarships 'er whatever?"

Chance thought that was a fairly good point. As strangely familiar as these two were, she was running out of free time. If they didn't take advantage now, they might not get to see all the displays and finish their work with aluminum purification. "Thanks for your time," she said, bowing to them both "We've got lots of other things to look at."

They nodded, turning their attention to another crowd of ponies gathering nearby. Chance was sure she could feel their eyes on her until she left the hall.


* * *


For the second time in as many weeks, Twilight found herself striding nervously through Canterlot Castle, intent on an audience with her mentor. There had been no relief from the stress, from the fear and the uncertainty. Clover's vision seemed to indicate that pony civilization was doomed no matter what happened. The clop of her hooves with each step sounded like the ticking of some colossal clock, counting down their days. Everything she had ever done to preserve Equestria had been for nothing. According to Clover, there was nothing anypony could do. The only choice they had was a choice of dooms.

The court was not busy today, but that didn't mean it was empty. Princess Celestia was the nation's ultimate authority; all cases that could not be resolved to satisfaction by the lesser courts eventually found their way to her. Twilight knew she would be busy, and she didn't mind. She got in line behind a tan stallion and started drifting off, her mind returning to the prophecy and its dark vision.

Unfortunately, she was not going to be given a reprieve today. "Twilight?" The stallion turned to face her, abject confusion on his face. "There's no reason you ought to be in this line."

She recognized the smell before the face; dough and sugar and coffee. She glanced at his flank, and was not surprised by the cutie mark she saw there. "Donut Joe? It's good to see you!" She shared a polite hug with the stallion – he was in that awkward place between friend and acquaintance, but she didn't know what else to do. 

Twilight liked Joe; she'd been visiting his little shop since she was small. It had been a place to study, a place where another glass of coffee or fresh treats were always within reach when she had an important paper to write. When she'd taken her friends there after their disastrous experience at the Gala, she had been sharing a part of herself. Of course, since relocating to Ponyville, her visits had come only sporadically. Still, Joe was one of the few ponies besides her close friends who had known her well enough as an ordinary unicorn not to be intimidated by her now that she was an Alicorn.

"I'm already inconveniencing ponies by coming in without an appointment. It seems fair I should at least go to the back of the line and wait with everypony else."

Joe didn't argue, at least not right away. "Donut?" She hadn't the foggiest idea how he could've got it so quickly into his hooves, or where that serving glove had come from. With her stress running as high as it was, she didn't really care. Of course, once she was munching on it, Donut Joe could speak and she was too busy chewing to argue with him. "That might be fair, but it isn't best. Royal ponies like you, you got privileges because you got responsibilities. Big ones; probably bigger than any the problems the rest of us here have." He lowered his voice, conspiratorially. "Though not all the ponies in front of us would admit it."

She swallowed, then nodded. It was true her work did concern the future of all Equestria. Celestia would meet with anypony, whether you had a good reason or not. A good reason just got you a sooner visit... but if you were willing to wait a few years, you could even come in and get her autograph, if that was what you really wanted. Joe was probably right that none of the other ponies here had anything so pressing as what she did. "I haven't figured out what I want to say, yet," she admitted in a whisper. "I could use some time in line to think."

"NEXT!" The line advanced, as a beleaguered looking pegasus messenger shambled into the open doors to the throne room. Ponies always exited through doors elsewhere, so she didn't get to see anypony on their way out.

Joe shrugged in return. "Well that makes sense. You just wait until you know, then you go right on past us to the front." He looked thoughtful. "Whenever I have trouble, I talk to somepony about it. My daughter usually sets me straight." He smiled. "You ever do anything like that?"

She nodded. "Sometimes. I thought about talking to my friends about it, but..." She shook her head. "Royal business. I'm not allowed."

"Ahh." He didn't press her. "Well, whatever it is, must be pretty big to get you upset. After all the amazing things you've done with those friends'a yours."

She nodded again. "Yeah." Then more quietly, "Joe, your daughter – Honeysweet, right? Is caring for her hard?"

His only reply was to break out into laughter so raucous that several ponies turned around to scowl at them. None of the guards, though. They had already seen her. Several of the ponies who glanced in their direction stared in shock when they saw her, and a few even bowed. She waved dismissively, not taking her attention from Donut Joe.

"If you find a parent anywhere in Equestria that doesn't think it's hard, you let me know. Ain't nothing harder."

She wilted. "Don't you worry about her? Worry that she's going to get into trouble when you aren't around, and you won't be able to help her? Worry that, in the end, all the parenting books you read aren't going to mean anything, and she's going to be out in the world by herself? Worried that you're not big enough to fix the trouble she'll get herself into?"

"NEXT!" The line moved again.

He stopped laughing. "Now how do you know about that?" He narrowed his eyes. "I would've heard-"

"Adopted," she supplied, and not untruthfully. As much as she felt guilty leaving out important parts of the truth, it wasn't as though she could reveal one of Equestria's most dangerous secrets to her favorite donut baker. "Just a few months ago. She's a distant relation. Her parents died in an accident, and I took her in. I've been... extremely discreet about it."

"Well." His affable smile returned. "Bring her around for donuts sometime." He shook his head sadly. "Sounds like you've got your hooves full. Little Honeysweet's enough trouble, and Celestia protect her from something like that. Wish I had some good advice."

"Me too."

"Well, that's just it. Fillies and colts – every single one is different. They aren't like donuts, where all the chocolates taste alike, just like all the glazed. But if I ever learned anything, it was that I shouldn't treat her like a foal. They're ponies too, Twilight. Just smaller. Ain't you a princess or somethin’? Just do your friendship stuff, and I figure it'll all work out."

"NEXT!" Twilight hadn't even realized the line had moved so quickly. There was nopony between Joe and the open doorway. 

"Well, you're up." She waved, feeling a little guilty she hadn't asked about what he had come to do. It wasn't as though he had looked upset the way the ponies before them in line had. "I'm sure Celestia will take care of everything for you too."

He shrugged. "I ain't never needed much taking care of. Catering deal. Good luck, Princess." He bowed with an almost mocking air, then departed.

Apparently negotiating a catering deal didn't take very long, because Twilight was only on her own a few minutes before the guard looked at her, nodding.

"What, no shout?"

He shook his head, eyes on the floor. "No Ma'am."

She chuckled and trotted past him into the throne room. She took no solace in the stained glass, even the ones that depicted familiar scenes of her own life and adventures. Luna's throne was empty as she approached; she wished it hadn't been. While not as knowledgeable as Celestia, Luna was also far less inclined to let a misunderstanding fester so she could "learn something on her own." Even since her coronation Celestia hadn't ever really stopped teaching her.

"Princess Twilight." Celestia rose for her, inclining her head. Twilight wished she wouldn't. She would've bowed in return if she had thought her old teacher would let her get away with it.

"Princess Celestia." She took a deep breath, then looked to the guards standing at regular intervals along the walls.

The Solar Princess understood, and gestured to them. They saluted, and vanished out side doors without a word. They banged the massive wooden doors shut behind them, leaving the two of them alone in the throne room.

"This must be serious if you didn't send a letter." She sounded sad. It made Twilight feel a little guilty to hear that. "Like last time? Or is this about the memory spell? I know we didn't get as much time to talk about it as you seemed to want."

She shook her head, looking up at the throne. It was true she had been uncomfortable to see such powerful magic used on such a young pony. But it was Discord she was angry with, not Celestia. Reformed her flank...

"I saw the vision," she said, removing the scroll from her saddlebags and levitating it towards Celestia. 

The alabaster Alicorn caught it in her magic. She unrolled it, glanced only once, then nodded. She was abruptly standing at the base of the throne, only a few meters away. There was no flash when Celestia teleported, not even a breeze. "Luna and I suspected you would eventually. I had hoped the time wouldn't have come so soon... but I suppose it couldn't be prevented. We will need your intellect." She sighed. The scroll had vanished completely. Twilight didn't want to know where it had gone; she'd be happy if she never saw it again.

She shivered. "It was awful, Princess. Have you really known about this ever since Clover?"

Celestia didn't answer at first. She had a very thoughtful expression. "Dark magic doesn't get its name from some inherent evil. Why do we forbid some practices and call them dark?"

Twilight knew the answer, though she did not know of many ponies who did. This knowledge wasn't exactly forbidden, but it was the sort of thing you would only find in a restricted section. "Because the power for it doesn't come from the caster or any other source in our world. It's named after the Outer Dark its powers come from."

"Very good." Her teacher walked away, over to one of the many stained glass windows. This one depicted the ancient defeat of king Sombra. "Of course there were types of dark magic that were evil by nature, like the summoning that he did." She flicked one ear towards the window. "All temporal magic is dark, Twilight. To see the future in our four dimensions, one must travel through the fifth. That is why I have restricted this practice."

"Clover the Clever practiced dark magic?"

Celestia shook her head. "Not exactly, Twilight. Clover's magic relied on educated prediction, not sight. It is not the future as it will be, only as it could be."

"She said something like that in the vision, but I wasn't sure. I couldn't find anything about any of the spells she used in the library, not even the restricted section. Is that why Discord isn't in the vision? Her spell didn't predict he'd be reformed and so it thought he would still be trapped in stone?"

Celestia strode past her again, towards the windows depicting Discord's reign and eventual defeat. "An excellent guess Twilight, but no. Discord isn't in the vision for the same reason it contained nothing explicit about Second Chance. Neither of them is from Equus, or anywhere else within this universe. Prediction spells alone can't possibly capture their actions when their magic is so different from ours."

Twilight sat on her haunches, considering. She remained quiet for almost a minute as she turned over the implications. Eventually she looked up again. "But the vision had aliens, Princess. It had the Jebr Stone golem. I haven't spoken directly to it, but from what I've observed it's easily as intelligent and capable as any pony. Not to mention the alien from Leo's society, the tall one Princess Luna is negotiating with. If the prediction spell can't predict aliens, how can it predict Equestria's victory once we make an allegiance with the Tower?"

"Discord and your apprentice have something that Leo's people and golems never can. Like all living things, they both use magic. But since they're not from Equestria, their magic can't be predicted." She looked Twilight directly in the eye, her expression like the steaming heat of summer. The shimmering of her mane dwarfed the spectacular multicolored glow of the windows to gray by comparison. Nothing in here, not even Twilight herself, seemed as powerfully real as Princess Celestia. "This is why your mission is so important to all of Equestria, Twilight. Luna and I have always known that danger was coming. I have recreated Clover's spells, and seen the vision you did in far greater detail." There was a haunted cast to her multicolored eyes then. Flickering orange seemed to echo the splash of distant dragonfire, while the crimson spoke of blood. Pony blood.

Twilight could count on her hooves how many times she had heard Celestia in pain. The Princess usually contained her emotions, such that Twilight couldn't even guess at them. She heard real pain now, and could've sworn she saw her trembling. "I have led Equestria for centuries, knowing without a doubt that it was doomed. Our ancient enemies would return in time, and our only salvation would see the death of magic itself. Worse still because the single alien we eventually met, Leo, was both kind and faithful. We couldn't even hate our destroyers."

Celestia's horn flashed, and a thick book appeared from the air in front of her. The title was in Old Equestrian, dating to about the time of the Lunar Rebellion.

Twilight took the book, leaning closer to read it. "The Journal of Avalon the Diamond Dog, with Historical Commentary by Truth Seeker and Medical Commentary by Set Straight." She levitated it out of the way, so she could look back to Celestia. "A diamond dog gave you hope for Equestria?"

Her teacher's weaknesses seemed gone, replaced with a feeble smile. "Avalon was as much a diamond dog as Leo was a unicorn, Twilight. I never had the pleasure of meeting him. Luna did, but you would be wise not to ask her about the encounter. By then, the Rebellion had already begun, and..." She shook her head. "Avalon's contributions to Equestrian science and medicine were remarkable in their day, but they aren't what make him interesting."

She stopped, seeming to be waiting for something from Twilight. When she didn't reply, Celestia went on, her enthusiasm undampened. "For the first time, we had something Clover's visions could not predict. His own words confirm he was a child of a culture distinct from the Steel Tower we see in Clover's visions. His accomplishments proved they had power similar to the Tower. Yet he wasn't a strange golem, but life as we know it, with strange magical abilities unknown to Equestria."

Now Twilight was putting it together. "That's why you want to know about the civilization Second Chance comes from. You want me to learn if we can trust them, because... because they might be an alternative to the one from Clover's vision. A way to save Equestria without sacrificing its soul." She fumbled in her saddlebags with her magic, removing a slim rectangle of plastic. The object was perhaps three hooves long and two wide, as thin as paper except at a small rectangle at the top made of inflexible, thicker plastic. "Before she went away for the week, Chance gave me this."

Twilight pressed on a little circle set into the thicker portion, and it immediately began to shine with color and light. "She told me it could be used to read any book her people ever wrote. The machine, Truth, can translate any I ask for into Equestrian. I'm sure everything we need to know is in here." 

She offered the tablet to Celestia, but the princess would not take it, pushing it back towards her along with the new book. "You are the pony who will be spending the most time with her, Twilight. If Luna or I made a decision based on ancient books, we might be making a disastrous mistake. Ponies change. If Discord can change, than these aliens might too. Your mission remains: you must be the one to discover how they are, not just how they were." She gestured at the book and the tablet, resting together. "Study well, then spend time with the filly. See how she acts. If the stories ponies told of Avalon are true, then he was selfless as few ponies I have known. But what if he was some strange exception, and the rest of his kind were more like Discord?"

Twilight shivered visibly. "It might... be even worse to ally with them than the mechanical aliens from Clover's vision."

"Yes, unfortunately. We might do more harm than good to Equestria's future if we don't know for certain the character of these outsiders. Your apprentice spoke of the danger her people are in. We need to know as soon as possible if it is safe to make contact with them. The sooner we do, the sooner we can help, and the sooner they can help us in return." She rested a wing briefly on Twilight's shoulder. "Equestria needs strong friends, Princess Twilight. Finding them may be the most important responsibility I have ever given you."


* * *


Bree's thermometers told her the interior of the forge was nearly forty degrees celsius. Given she had designed these drones for temperatures nearly a thousand times as high, it did not bother her. Not that it would have even if the conditions were unsafe. Thus was the peril of living digitally inside a drone; you might never know your home was failing.

The forge's fire gave strange flickers to her projected form, giving orange to the green sparks in her eyes. Her escorts were gone now, far too precious in their labor to waste on protection she did not need. No guards traveled with her now, though she did have an escort. It did not bother her that the old dog moved so slowly; everything he said taught her more about the world she meant to conquer.

There was nothing old or weak to the tall canine standing in the forge. He wore a thick apron and thicker gloves, though he lacked the collar that seemed the only constant among the diamond dogs. Though given they were usually made of metal, Bree supposed that was for the best.

"Hello, blacksmith." Bree inclined her head briefly in respect. "I saw you two nights ago, but I didn't get to speak with you."

He grunted, and did not look up from his work. The canine shoveled a huge scoop of dark stones into the flames, which roared in response. With the heavy door slammed closed, his two apprentice puppies began to jump up and down on the bellows. The furnace belched out a torrent of blue flames with each rush of air.

"I'm sorry to have caused you to change what you usually do. I know how frustrating it must be to break from your routine."

He grunted again, not looking up. She wasn't sure if she ought to be offended or impressed. She chose to be impressed.

"Master Blacksmith." She walked smoothly up to the forge, inspecting it without any sign of balking at the heat. This managed to illicit a reaction, considering the distance all the other dogs kept from it. Even the apprentices shied away from that heat. While the towering figure did not speak, he did look up at her. So she had his attention; that was a start. 

"This is a coke forge, is it not? That vessel..." She scanned it briefly with a mass spectrometer. Charles might've been able to glance at bubbling metal and be able to identify it, but Bree could not. What was the point of learning how physical things were made when datamancy was so much more efficient? "You're making iron.”

"For you." He gestured with a grunt at a series of stone molds waiting outside the crucible. Several were already filled with gradually cooling bars. "New treaty."

She nodded. "You are doing good work, Master Blacksmith." Not many of these dogs were taller than she was, but this one had to be nearly two full meters when he stood on his hind legs. Up close, she could see bits of charred fur around the edges of his gloves and apron, and old scars on his face where fur no longer grew. "Where I come from, it is the craftsmen and investors who are in charge, not just those who can fight the best or the longest. Hard work and skill grant the right to rule."

The blacksmith laughed, a deep sound almost like a bark. He looked down on her, shaking his head. "And what do you craft, little traveler? What useful skill could a tiny spirit ever learn?"

Bree was not insulted, though perhaps a lesser girl might've been. Her friendship with Charles had prepared her for this. "Master Simon." She looked back at her guide, smiling. "If you could present the master blacksmith with my gift."

The old dog removed the pouch from his belt, lifting up the object inside. Despite its large size, he used only one hand to offer it up. The hammer itself was modeled on her many stored images of forge hammers. Instead of being made of iron, however, she had worked this hammer from the silvery titanium skeletons of her dead drones. Hardened with a coating of nanosealant, it was without a doubt the best hammer this blacksmith would've ever seen.

The blacksmith took her gift, lifting it in one gloved paw and waving it around. "Hah! You made me puppy's toy!" He turned down the heat on the forge, moving over to the anvil. His own hammer was about the same size, though he needed both hands to lift it, hefting it by the wooden haft and grinning broken teeth down at her. "This is a hammer!"

She echoed his grin, hiding her disquiet at those teeth. She would have to increase the priority of dentistry on her list of technologies to implement. "You think so? Put my hammer on your anvil, and see if you can damage it. Strike my hammer with yours as hard as you can. Then use mine on yours."

Simon retreated from the anvil, perhaps fearing being showered with bits of exploding metal. Grinning eagerly, the towering blacksmith brought down his hammer like great Lugh himself. The hammer struck with a mighty clang, sending sparks ringing up all around it. 

His eyes went wide as he turned his hammer over, revealing a huge dent where it had struck the one Bree had brought. "Mythril?" he asked, awed.

Bree searched her database for the term, only shaking her head when she was sure of what it meant. "Titanium. I'm afraid I won't be able to get more of it for some time. This hammer will outlive you, and your children, and their children."

"A mighty gift." The mocking was all gone, and for once he looked down on her with respect.

"I wish your name in exchange, Master Blacksmith. I have given you mine."

"Failinis." He nodded at her, lifting the hammer reverently in both paws. "Too light for armor. Maybe swords, collars, knives." He hung it carefully from his tool rack, in the place of honor previously occupied by his old hammer. "Maybe alphas not airsick after all."

"Well, Master Failinis, I will not interfere with good work any further. I just wanted you to know that you and yours are an important part of the new pack we are building together. You have been neglected and taken for granted, but no longer."

She left him then, waiting in the hallway as Simon shut the door. "The stories of you are true, Builder."

She shrugged, or at least her projection did. "Because I made a hammer?"

"No. Because you are making a pack. First the farmers, then the guards, and now the blacksmith. Perhaps you won't be a hero in battle like great Leo, but you're just as good at putting dogs together. Better than most alphas."

Brigid stopped dead in her tracks. She didn't gasp or stop breathing, though she probably would've if she still needed to. "Leo. That wouldn't happen to be Leonidas Eranus, would it?"

Simon rested one of his paws against the side of the cavern, considering her sudden change in attitude. Even knowing his heart rate, and being able to read the ways his pupils grew and shrank did not yet help her read the native emotions. "There was a hero... Leo the Bold... but I do not know much of him. It is a pony legend. Our alphas do not care for their bards to know the legends of other races anymore."

Her next destination forgotten, Brigid moved right up to Simon's face, as close as she could stand without risking he would touch the projection. "What do you know of it? Even the smallest detail might be significant."

Simon glanced around the burrow, as if making sure they were alone. He reached out, almost as though to take her shoulder, but of course he couldn't. So far as she knew, there were no solid holograms outside of Federation laboratories. She had a plan to deal with her insubstantiality, but that was still weeks off. "I could. Perhaps it would be better to tell you what I know somewhere we won't be overheard. The alphas do not appreciate when I tell stories that aren't about dogs."

So she went about her plans for that day, a scuttering drone on the roof of an earthen burrow. She was friendly and polite with all, learning the name of every dog she passed and committing it to memory. The alphas seemed content to leave her to her work, trusting in her promises. This was for the best; if they had watched her, they might've seen the way she eroded at their power as she won the loyalty of the most important dogs in the pack one by one.

As part of her treaty, the dogs had wanted to give her one of the finest burrows, furnished with expensive wooden furniture from the surface and exotic-looking carpets. She had refused, insisting on a large, empty burrow at the entrance to an exhausted mine. The dogs could not know that she had already built an exterior entrance hidden away, and her drones could come and go without their knowledge. Except while charging in the sun, they were all hard at work in a stable cavern about two miles from the entrance, one only accessible via a rope ladder she had "accidentally" severed.

Beyond the rough wooden door was an entrance chamber she had furnished with the gifts they had insisted on giving her, chairs for reclining and a few carpets over the dirt floor. She gestured to the chair for her guest, since of course she had neither the need nor the ability to use it herself.

"You promised me a story, Simon."

He nodded. "Unfortunately, my father only ever remembered a few verses. You would need a pony library for the rest."

She nodded dismissively. "Yes, of course." She might do just that if what he told her included any evidence to suggest this Leo really was the missing Leonidas Eranus, the first of the tower to be sent into Equestria. Discovering what had happened to him would win her great glory indeed, even if the rest of her mission did not go well. "Do you think there's any chance he's still alive?"

Simon shook his head slowly. "I wish I could say so, Ambassador. But even though I do not know all the words, I know the poem is called the 'Last Charge of Leo.' Not only that, but it's very old. More than a thousand years, at least. I do not think Leo was an Alicorn, to live so long."

"He could have. Still, you had better tell me. Before we're interrupted."

Simon rose up onto his paws, leaning on his walking stick. "Forgive me, Ambassador. The poetry loses some of its structure when translated, and I'm fairly sure most pony songs were meant to be performed with an orchestra." She waved off the remark. "I believe the first part I remember begins on the fifth or sixth stanza." Finally the canine took a deep breath and began to recite. Simon's voice was raspy and feeble when he spoke. Not so when he sang. 

"Pious Leo anticipated that inevitable conflict. He assembled the greatest of Equestria's warriors. A hundred from Cloudsdale, with helmets shining. A hundred from Canterlot, born mightiest wizards. Last, strongest of Celestia's foals, indomable earthborn. For twenty long summers they prepared, studying his otherworldly ways. Together in battle intractable, and knowing not terror and weakness."

He swayed, taking a deep breath. Bree didn't know the tune to which he sang, but she had to admire his ability to remain true to pitch with feeble aging lungs. "The only other stanza I remember is from the second book."

"Courageous Leo shirked not at the retreat of Canterlot’s own. 'Forward!' he bellowed. 'To the bridge!' His fearless ones galloped on behind, undaunted by unnumbered of draconic legions. Equestria's arm retreated, a stranger's phalanx came buttressing the Equestrian retreat. 'Our gods will not desert us!' champion's trumpet said. Onward came marshaled of draconic horrors. Yet unbroken he prepared his bow of fire and lightning. 'Celestia will protect us!'"

He swayed a little, then sat down. "I'm sorry Ambassador, but I don't remember the rest."

Bree's mind reeled with the implications of everything she had heard. She hungered for more, but she fought back her frustration, drowning her thirst for knowledge in the crystal rivers of home. She took a deep, simulated breath, then nodded. "Thank you, Simon. I believe finding the rest of that story has become very important to me. Tell me about the nearest libraries."


> Chapter 9: Builders
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Was it normal to be this nervous when going to talk to a machine? Twilight felt like her hooves were made of lead, and each step was an enormous effort of will. The generator was running upstairs, belching occasional clouds of steam and smoke up into the air. She hoped no pegasi were unfortunate enough to be flying over the library today.

She carefully locked the door behind her, then flicked the lights on with her magic and began trundling her way down the stairs. Each step practically shouted on the wood, even though she wasn't wearing horseshoes. She shivered inwardly at that; to think that some ponies hammered nails into their hooves!

Whether it was the noise she made or merely its natural alertness, Truth was already on and waiting for her when she reached floor level. She drew herself up, making herself look as confident as she possibly could. She was a princess of Equestria! She wasn't going to be intimidated by an old metal block. Even if it was a metal block that somehow possessed all the knowledge of an entire species. If that were true, it would mean it had more knowledge of its own world than Celestia had of Equestria. And it was sitting in her basement.

"Hello Truth," she said, stopping a few meters away and nodding in respect. Did machines care if you showed them respect? Twilight did so out of habit more than anything else; she was naturally friendly with everypony.

"Hello, user Twilight Sparkle." Its voice came from no particular opening, echoing off the walls and around the enclosed space. She found herself comparing its voice to that of Queen Chrysalis, though it lacked her maliciousness and anger. "Good afternoon to you."

She started a little at the apparent emotion in its voice. "G-Good afternoon to you, Truth. Do you have time to talk?"

There were no gestures to read, no ears and tail to watch, and no scents to judge. Still, there was something of amusement in the voice she heard. "Affirmative. I exist to serve the needs of my users, Twilight Sparkle. If I did not have time to serve your needs, I would not be fulfilling my purpose."

She took a few moments to take that in. "Am I one of your users, Truth?"

"Affirmative. Administrator Second Chance created an account with your name with the AMBASSADOR flag. I can provide you with any information of HAZARD_3 and below."

"What's above hazard three?"

"Specific instructions for the creation of advanced technology. Modern military tactics and capabilities. Specific personal information of users with the LIVING flag."

"Well, I didn't come to talk about those things." She took a deep breath. "In archeology, we study ancient ponies by reading their books and poems. I would like to learn about your creators by reading some of their books. Chance told me you can translate them into Equestrian, is that true?"

"Affirmative. I can translate any of the non-restricted documents and media files and transmit them to the tablet you are carrying. Which books would you like?"

Twilight considered that for a moment, thinking about the great library in Canterlot and its 50,000 books. No doubt Truth held at least as many, though she did have a little trouble imagining how small they'd have to be to fit in such a small space. "Could I start with the first books you have?"

"The first chronologically?" At her nod, it continued. "Intact records prior to 1600 CE are exceptionally rare. All records, files, and media created prior to 1990 CE account for less than 1% of my database. User Twilight Sparkle should be aware that records from this period do not reflect modern humanity."

She nodded again. "I understand. I wouldn't expect somepony who read the ancient pre-Equestrian epics to think Canterlot was really like that."

There was a moment's hesitation, like a pony carefully considering something. Then it answered, "Very well." 

Within the field of her magic, Twilight felt the tablet she had carried down with her start to vibrate, and the screen flashed briefly with light. She moved the screen in front of her, glancing at the list of titles that had appeared there. "You're done translating already?"

"Affirmative."

She looked at the list in disbelief. Truth had no magic, so he couldn't have used a translation spell. On a whim, she opened one of the middle titles from the list and started reading out loud. "Sing, Goddess, Achilles' rage, black and murderous, that cost the Greeks incalculable pain, pitched countless souls of heroes into Hades' dark, and left bodies to rot as feasts for dogs and birds-"

She blinked, nearly stunned by the words alone. Such vividly graphic imagery was not something you would find in modern Equestria... or in many of the ancient works she knew of. Hatred yes, but- Chance had shown her how to use the tablet, so she returned it to the book listing and picked one of the other titles, fearing she would find something similar.

"This is what I heard. At one time the Buddha was staying in the Jeta Grove, near the city of Sravasti. With him there was a community of 1,250 venerable monks and devoted disciples. One day before dawn, the Buddha clothed himself, and along with his disciples took up his alms bowl and entered the city to beg for food door to door, as was his custom."

What? Twilight picked one of the first titles from the list, all curiosity about the translation process gone. "I WILL proclaim to the world the deeds of Gilgamesh. This was the man to whom all things were known; this was the king who knew the countries of the world. He was wise, he saw mysteries and knew secret things, he brought us a tale of the days before the flood. He went on a long journey, was weary, worn-out with labour, returning he rested, he engraved on a stone the whole story."

"The translations are accurate," Truth supplied. "As accurate as possible. Many began in poetic forms that lose some of their meaning, but I provided the most accurate translation possible. There is significant cultural variation between works, and room for subjectivity with the term 'first.' Coupled with the uncertainty of chronology present when dealing with such distant creations, I included the twenty-five earliest works either intact or almost intact."

"And these are complete?" Twilight returned to the first of the titles she had opened, scrolling through to the middle of the story and picking a selection towards the end at random. The text was there, waiting. "There is nothing alive more agonized than man of all that breathe and crawl across the earth." She paused. "I'm not sure I want to read this one." She looked up. "How many of these are depressing?"

"Life was brutal, painful, and short for early humans. Was life in ancient Equestria better, user Twilight Sparkle?"

"I... don't know," she eventually admitted. "Not in Equestria, certainly. But we know very little about what happened before. It's possible life was as difficult for us as it was for you. I suppose... I can see why ponies would be eager to forget. Except for Celestia, nopony remembered the Lunar Rebellion, and that was only a thousand years ago. How old is this story?"

"No scholarly consensus was ever reached for the exact dating of the Iliad. Most agree it dates to at least two and a half thousand years ago. The events it describes, so much as they ever occurred, would have taken place at least three hundred years earlier."

Twilight was silent for a long time, considering her mission. "Could you... add a few more modern records as well? Say, the most popular ten stories from the last hundred years?" Almost before she was done speaking, the screen vibrated, and the list of books got longer.

"User Second Chance anticipated that request, and provided me with the titles to consider. In addition, she instructed I provide a sampling of other multimedia types not existent in Equestria for your consideration."

"Thank you very much, Truth. I may return to you if I have more questions."

"Of course, user Twilight Sparkle." Was that humor in its tone again? "I'll be right here until you need me."
 

* * *


Chance was impressed with Apple Bloom's work. The contest only gave them four days to work, four days to perfect whatever design they chose and refine a plate of it strong enough to support the weight of a pony. They couldn't even begin to guess what the other groups were doing, and neither much cared. They didn't have the unicorn magic necessary to produce or strengthen substances that way, or the pegasus talent for hammering strength from clouds.

Over the last two days of the contest, Chance had been reminded exactly why having no magic had made her miss having hands. It was basically impossible to do anything requiring both strength and precision without somepony else to help.

Luna had been true to her word. Not only had they been allowed to participate, but they'd been granted everything Chance had asked for, including a good portion of the items that hadn't been in inventory and had to be leased from nearby construction sites or chemical laboratories. The hotel had no facilities capable of handling them, so like the few groups in their situation, all their work took place across the street.

Chance looked around their lab, pleased with how things had turned out. The room was about twenty-five meters long and twice that wide, with floors and walls and ceiling of meter-thick concrete. Ventilation came in a constant, blasting gust from iron grates set into the walls. The door was thick steel, heavy enough that it took both of them pushing together to get it open or closed, even with Apple Bloom's immense strength.

And strong she was. Chance hadn't ever had cause to appreciate just how strong earth ponies could be, not until now. Apple Bloom's hooves crushed the thin sheets of bauxite like they were made of styrofoam. It was hard not to be impressed when someone hardly bigger than you were could do the work of a rock crusher without tools. Chance had tried, but had only managed to chip one hoof and almost sprain one of her other legs. Instead, she devoted her time lately to refreshing Apple Bloom's refreshments, and giving her what encouragement she could. This was, of course, because their machine was already built.

"I don't see why we need so much of this stuff." Apple Bloom climbed out of the steel tray, brushing the reddish dust off her hooves before taking the lemonade Chance offered with a fierce thirst. "You said we only need ten kilos to hold up anypony who wants to stand on it, so how come I gotta break so much?"

She tried to look sympathetic. After all, she would've helped if she could've! But without the earth pony's innate magic, she was helpless at this kind of task. "Because only about half of this is going to be alumina when we're done with the first half of the process. Only about half of that is going to end up as metal at the end. So we've got to break about forty kilos for every ten we want at the end. But those ratios were from purpose-built machines, made by experts with lots of resources and years of experience. I figure we'll be lucky if we get half the efficiency. That means about eighty kilos to get the ten we want."

Her friend didn't say anything for a time, enjoying the relief from her hard work. "Ten kilos," Apple Bloom eventually repeated. "If we took home just a few ounces, we wouldn't hafta worry about cider sales this winter. Or anything else."

She shrugged. "I'm sure we'll have some extra. Just sell it fast." Chance paced past the tray, to the huge rotating kiln with its fume hood, currently quiet and disconnected from the massive power outlets in the walls. The lye already waited inside, though of course it hadn't been heated. They would mix it here, before transferring it to the waiting pressure vessel. "Once Equestria catches onto this, it's going to change everything."

Apple Bloom grinned at her. "Sounds like cutie mark material to me."

"Yeah," she agreed, though she tried not to sound skeptical. Her friend had done most of the work, since she knew both mechanics and pony tools better than Chance did. Chance had just followed her around with their sketches, making comments and preventing her from accidentally doing something wrong. None of it had been perfect, but so long as they could demonstrate the process was feasible, that would be enough. It didn't even matter to Chance if they won, really. Cheap metal was one of the important steps on the road to an advanced society. She would just have to make sure she included something about what to do with all the mud in her notes somewhere. "For sure. Tomorrow we'll be watching that metal come pouring out, and..." She glanced briefly at her friend's flank. "Just what happens when you get your cutie mark, anyway?"

"Well, I only ever saw it happen once." She narrowed her eyes. "You. Remember?"

She nodded. "I wasn't awake. I don't know what it looked like!"

"Oh yeah." Apple Bloom grinned. "Well, it wasn't there, then there was this little flash of light, and there it was! I'm so excited! When the girls see, they're gonna be so happy for me!" She glanced briefly at where the tablet was resting, on the single table in the center of the room. "You think Truth's predicting will work for Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle?"

"I... maybe, Apple Bloom. If it works for you, I'm sure it will work for them too. It's just probabilities, though, so don't be discouraged if it doesn't work the first time. Every failure gives Truth that much more information about what doesn't work so it can find a solution that does."

The earth filly glared back in response. "Don't say things like that, Chance. That's what my sister always says." She nodded solemnly. "It's going to work this time, I know it is!"

She didn't have the heart to argue. She paced away, walking past the single window and glancing out to see if anypony was watching them. She tapped her hoof on the thick crystalline substance, feeling the almost electrical way the reinforcing magic shimmered around her hoof. During the first two days of their work, the youngest ponies in a very hooves-on science had been quite a spectacle, not counting the half-dozen advisers that had hovered around them like a flock of protective geese.

That had worn off by now. Once they'd made it clear that they had no intention of backing out and knew exactly what they were doing, the number of adults shadowing them had faded to the usual one-per-group. The stern looking mare sat outside the window in a folding chair, reading a book in her hooves and only occasionally glancing up to watch them. Needless to say, spending half the day breaking rocks hadn't attracted the same crowd as taking existing machines and jury-rigging them into technology no Equestrian had ever imagined. It was getting late; another two hours and they would be out of time, the third of four contest days gone. Two hours to come up with forty kilos of alumina using machines made by tiny colorful horses.

Chance jumped, eyes going wide as she saw the ponies standing outside. How had they gotten there so fast? Without warning, a pair of solar guard unicorns, gleaming armor and all, were talking to their adviser. The concrete and magical glass blocked all sound, but Chance didn't need to hear to see the discomfort and surprise in her appearance, and the worry. "Hide the tablet, Apple Bloom!" The words were out before she knew what she was saying, before she even knew why.

Apple bloom didn't object, though she looked as confused as the pony outside. She walked past Chance, casually tossing her saddlebags onto the table so they buried the tablet. Then she looked, and her eyes went as wide as saucers. "Royal Guard? What are they doin' here?"

"I think we're about to find out." Chance moved to stand beside one of the machines, lifting a wrench into her mouth that she did not need and turning away to look like she had been working. Apple Bloom shrugged and returned to her tray of rocks, and soon the room echoed with the violent shattering sound that stone made beneath her hooves. Mere seconds later the door started to swing open, glowing with a faint shimmer of greenish magic. She forced herself to turn, even as her friend stopped breaking rocks. 

She nodded respectfully to the newcomers, but it was Apple Bloom who spoke first. "Hi! How are you ponies doing?"

Chance couldn't tell for sure, but she was certain their armor must be doing something to conceal their identity. The guards each looked so much alike that they would've had to come from the same family. Even in this case, when one of the ponies clearly smelled like a mare and the other a stallion, it was hard to tell at a glance which was which. Impressive magic indeed.

"Not well," said one of the guards in a low, stallion's voice. Well, that was one way to figure that out. "There's been an emergency. Princess Celestia is here; she needs to speak with you immediately."

Chance felt her stomach drop to somewhere near her hind-legs. "P-Princess Celestia?" she repeated, fighting to keep the fear from her voice. "Did she say what kind of emergency?"

The guards looked grave, and the stallion that had spoken before continued. "Unfortunately not; apparently it was a subject too sensitive for us. She only said it had something to do with 'Second Chance's ponies.' She said you would understand."

She hadn't been wrong. "Okay. We shouldn't keep her waiting."

Apple Bloom scrambled out of the tray. "Hold on one sec, Chance, I'm comin’!" She brushed off her hooves as quickly as she could, though no sooner had she started moving than the mare raised her hoof, resting it on Apple Bloom's shoulder. "Unfortunately not. Celestia's instructions were quite specific; you were to come alone."

Chance rolled her eyes, but she knew there was no point in arguing with military ponies. Not if they were anything like the soldiers from Earth. "Whatever. Apple Bloom, don't start the process without me. If you finish with the ore, you can go ahead and mix it with lye and get it loaded into the pressure vessel. Just remember to wear goggles and a mask the whole time, okay?"

Her friend nodded, though she hadn't taken her eyes from the guards. There was something dark in Apple Bloom's expression, though Chance couldn't tell what it was. "Yeah, Chance. No problem. I won't start it without you." Then, a little quieter, "Are you sure I can't come?"

The guards nodded, without any apparent annoyance at having to repeat themselves. "Sorry, young filly. They aren't our orders."

"I'll come right back, Apple Bloom." Chance wasn't completely sure, but she knew she would try. Whatever this emergency was, it couldn't be that serious, right? It wasn't as though anything that exciting could've happened. Luna-7 couldn't have stabilized the Rift without her effort on this side, she was sure of that. Could somepony else have tried to come through her way?

Chance followed the stallion from her lab, waving politely to Confident Theory as she left the lab behind.


* * *


Apple Bloom knew something was wrong. There was no way to identify exactly what was giving her that feeling, but she knew something was wrong. Was something wrong with the way the guards had sounded? Was it the way they held themselves, or how determined they had been to ensure Apple Bloom hadn't been there?

Apple Bloom didn't hear many lies growing up, not with a sister like Applejack. Nor could Apple Bloom herself ever get away with lying to her. Applejack could always tell when she hadn't really done her chores, or when her black eye hadn't really been acquired when she tripped and hit her head on the wall.

For the first time, Apple Bloom thought she might know what Applejack had been talking about. The question, then, was what she could do about it. Fortunately she had some hard work to do in the meantime; hard work always helped her think. She turned so she could face the window as she pulverized stone, crushing it to a fine powder before brushing the contents of the tray into a covered box and loading it up with another slab.

As she sweated over her work, she noticed something strange from out the window. One of the guards (she couldn't tell which) returned, and Confident Theory rose to meet them. Without a word, the unicorn outside drew the blinds closed, cutting off Apple Bloom's vision of the outside. Why in the name of Celestia would a guard have done that?" 

Apple Bloom moved forward cautiously, creeping towards the blinds. The walls were soundproof, but that didn't mean she couldn't get a glance outside. Apple Bloom scanned the tables for something reflective, and found it in the back of the clipboard Chance had used to take notes. She slid it as low as she could while still angling it up towards the blinds. 

With a sense of satisfaction, Apple Bloom saw her idea had worked, and that the clipboard now reflected a distorted view of exactly what was going on outside. She watched as Confident Theory stiffened, glaring defiantly at the guard. Without warning the guard lunged, with the grace of a predator. Apple Bloom yelped in shock, dropping the clipboard.

Thank Celestia the walls were soundproof. She scrambled to get another look outside, but by the time she had the clipboard angled at the gap in the blinds, both ponies were gone. She grunted in frustration, but forced herself to keep watching, hoping her patience might be rewarded.

It was; after about five minutes, Confident Theory returned from the nearby hallway. She stopped at the door, and her horn glowed briefly. There was a dull thump from the door as the locking bar slid into place, then she turned and continued on her way. There was no trace of bruising or injury, despite the force that had apparently brought her to the ground. She wasn't wearing her glasses.

Apple Bloom got that feeling again, the one she couldn't quite explain. It wasn't just that in the minutes that followed the guard never emerged from a hallway she already knew led to the electrical closet and nothing else, though that was certainly part of it. She wasn't sure if it was the guards she ought to be frightened of or her adviser, but she knew one thing as surely as she knew that apples didn't grow in winter: she wouldn't feel safe until she was back with her friend.

"Now, how do I find Chance?" Apple Bloom said to herself, plopping down and glaring at the chalkboard. There was a map in her saddle-bags, maybe she could look through and see what sort of secure-looking places this building had.

She wouldn't get the chance. Almost the second after she spoke, she heard a muffled sound from beneath the saddle bags. Of course she remembered what she had buried there, and after a few moments of struggle, she rescued Chance's tablet from beneath her saddle-bags. "Uh, did you say something?"

The device squawked in the strange, rolling vowels of Chance's language, the screen completely filled with unreadable text. However, as soon as it finished saying whatever it had been trying to say, it spoke in Equestrian. The voice was flat and emotionless, not at all like talking to the cube in Twilight’s basement. "Activate tracking routine? Target: User Second Chance."

"Yes!" she squealed, glaring intently down at the screen. "Trackin' routine sounds like exactly what I need! If trackin' means to you what it means ta me."

The tablet spoke in Chance's language again, though as before all she had to do was wait a few moments and it repeated itself in Equestrian. "Please note that without UNTRANSLATABLE tracking this unit is limited to a range of .5 kilometers."

The screen flickered, rows and rows of text replaced with a single bright arrow that rotated to point south. Apple Bloom tested the tracking by rotating the tablet around, and she found that as she did the arrow spun so that it always faced approximately the same place.

Was it really working? Apple Bloom had never been given cause to doubt Chance's technology before. Even if it wasn't working, though, she had a bigger problem just now. She would have to escape the lab if she was to reunite with her friend. Heedless of the consequences, Apple Bloom faced away from the window and lashed out with the firmest buck her small body could manage. It didn't even dent, and the resulting shock of pain nearly dropped her to the ground.

She spent several minutes saying lots of things that would've got soap in her mouth if Granny Smith had been listening, shaking off the pain of the impact. Turned out that pressure-glass was every bit as strong as their adviser had suggested. Apple Bloom tried her luck on the door next, striking the steel with a little less force than she had dared with the window. She didn't even dent it. Of course, she had expected that. Earth pony strength worked well on stone and dirt, but somewhat less well on metal. The process of forging and refining changed the magical nature of the rock in some way a pony like Twilight probably could've explained.

"Signal strength at 24% and falling," the tablet said, after what she could only presume was a similar explanation in human language.

"Well, that's just great." She glared at the ground. "Locked in the lab, friend's probably in danger... What would Applejack do?" She looked around, though she didn't have to look far to figure out the answer to that question. Her sister was a simple pony. Locked away in the basement of a chemical plant, Applejack would've kicked and bucked at everything in sight until she got herself loose.

But Applejack was an adult mare, with some of the strongest earth pony magic Apple Bloom had ever seen in a pony. Even so, escaping what amounted to a solid concrete and steel bunker might even take her hours. A great deal of awful things could happen to a pony in just a few hours. Her parents would've been able to attest to that, if they were still alive.

So what would've worked for Applejack wouldn't work for her. What about the things her friends would do? Scootaloo probably would've tried something athletic and daring, like trying to get at the grates letting in air and escape that way. But Apple Bloom knew better than to trust her safety to a chemistry lab's ventilation system, so she couldn't try that. 

Sweetie Belle would rely on her magic. Maybe, if she was lucky, she'd be able to levitate the lock open on the other side of the door, though she probably would've been as powerless as Chance was to actually get it open.

At that moment, Apple Bloom realized something, something it had taken her until that moment to put together. She was sitting in an entire lab filled with supplies. Machines filled most of the space, and they hadn't even touched most of them. Forget what her other friends would've done; they probably couldn't have escaped anyway. Apple Bloom was going to do what Apple Bloom would've done.

In spite of everything, she found herself smiling as she pulled on the safety goggles. With a wrench in her mouth and pliers in her hooves, she set to work.


* * *


Somewhere not all that far away, a pair of changeling queens waited in darkness. For her temporary burrow, Queen Chrysalis had chosen a water treatment plant. Not only was the building less than a block away from the hotel where the contest was being held, it was also almost completely automated. Thanks to the wonders of powerful spells, the entire plant required less than a dozen ponies. It was trivial to find somewhere in the facility to hide along with her precious daughter.

The green of her daughter's cocoon shone faintly with an internal light, the light of love and a child nearly ready to be born. Only one process remained, the most difficult and painful process in the birth of any of her queens. Imprinting assured that the knowledge of the hive survived the generations, assured that a new queen would have the strength of will and the knowledge required to lead a swarm, even a small one.

In every case, she had used her own memories. This did not replace the growing personality with her own, but it did give it access to thousands of years of experience. Most of her daughters had great difficulty assimilating it, and in the end would only be left with vague impressions of what she had to give them. Those that retained more were destined to become powerful queens indeed, perhaps strong enough to raise queens of their own one day.

Those queens rarely imprinted their offspring, for fear the new queens would rise up and replace their mothers as they often tried to do to Chrysalis. Of all the swarm, she alone did not fear she would be replaced. All she had to do to triumph over a disobedient daughter was wait for time to take its course. In the end, all of them died.

How are you feeling? she asked, her mental voice as gentle and loving as she could muster. It was hard not to feel sympathy for the little one, knowing what she would soon endure.

Ready, came the reply, in a will easily a match for any of her regular drones. It was the will of a young queen that might one day rule over a large hive indeed. She would need all that strength in the days ahead, though not for ruling drones. I'm ready to help you, Mother. I'll make you proud.

I know you will, little one. Chrysalis kept the sorrow from her voice only with the greatest exercise of self-discipline. The young queen was fiercely inquisitive, and any sign of distress might prompt hours of interrogation. That was another rare trait for a changeling: the unborn queen was compassionate. That trait was rare in the swarm, and probably wouldn't have survived a conventional imprinting. You have a very important purpose, more important than any of your sisters yet.

What is it? she asked, eagerness in her voice. I'll do it better than you've ever seen it done before!

I don't doubt it. Chrysalis paced the small chamber, ducking each of the valves and pipes without having to look at them. The raw materials for the procedure were all here, arrayed in a ritual circle. The crystals were old, more ancient than any other changeling in the swarm. They were older than the city they stood in, older than Equestria itself. As with many ancient objects, their magic had only grown with time, swelling with the eons as the subtle working of Equestria itself twisted them to its pattern.

Queen Chrysalis surveyed the ritual circle again, testing for the hundredth time that the runes had been copied perfectly. They were, and every symbol and ritual object was in place. Everything was ready, from the objects to the queen herself. All that remained was the pony she needed, and everything would be in motion.

She returned to the unborn queen, resting her head protectively on the top of its cocoon. You're going to make a better future for all changelings. You'll make sure none of your brothers or sisters ever have to sleep hungry. You'll make it so we don't have to hide.

There was a pause, a rare thing from the young queen. She couldn't see the changeling's face through the cocoon, but Chrysalis could imagine it twisting in concentration. Few of her drones would be able to process a command like the one she'd just given, composed almost entirely of abstractions.

I'll do it, came the eventual reply. I don't know how yet. It sounds hard. But if you think I can do it, I will. I'll figure out the way and I'll do it. For you.

I know you will. Chrysalis fed her love to the young queen. There had been billions of changelings over the years, yet over all of them there had only ever been one that had love to give as ponies did. Perhaps this new queen would be the second. I love you, daughter. It will soon be hard to remember what you have learned as you grew. Don't ever forget that you are the only thing that matters in my whole world. Without you and your sisters, I have nothing.

I won't! The voice was fierce, and burned with every bit of emotion that Chrysalis had felt from her own words. Had she been imagining things, or had she felt a flash of love in return? With the burning storm of emotions that raged in her, it was impossible to judge the source of such feeble energy. I won't forget. I don't understand what's going to happen to me, but I won't forget. I'll think about you over and over no matter how bad it gets.

Chrysalis, merciless millennia-old ruler of the Changelings, did not have the strength to continue her conversation. She walked across the room and sat beside the circle, waiting for her most capable servants to return.

She wasn't waiting long.


> Chapter 10: Captivity
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"As you requested, My Queen." Equilibrium lowered his head in a respectful bow, or at least as respectful as either of her Builder servants ever showed. "I have the filly." She watched as he tossed the cloth sack casually to the ground in front of him. No lights shone in the room of pipes and rushing water, yet none of its occupants needed them. Changelings had long since adapted to lives in the deep places of the earth. "Though I'll admit, I was more than a little disappointed not to have the chance to speak more openly with her." He sighed, rising from his bow without her leave. "In our time, she was somewhat a legend. Were it not for her world stabilizing the Rift, we never would have made the crossing ourselves. I do hope you intend for her to survive this process. If reincarnation is for her anything as it was for us, the wait of centuries for her to master the process would be most tedious."

Chrysalis lifted a rough length of metal in her magic as she approached, closing the distance between the waiting cocoon and the entrance in a few quick strides. "If I did kill her, you might wait in vain for her to find birth in the swarm." She lifted the edge of the cloth, and only began cutting when she was certain she had it well clear of the filly inside. Her captive would be no use to the swarm if she bled to death in the dark. The filly within had been bound hoof and mouth, like some beast hogtied for sacrifice on dark alters. Chrysalis knew many who would have relished the chance to put one such as this little filly on such an alter. If they ever learned she had denied them the chance, she might end up suffering a similar fate. There were worse things than death.

But she wasn't here to inflict any of them upon the filly, at least not if her plan went off as successfully as her preparations suggested it would. The pride of a successful infiltration was that no blood had to fall. Killing was for the clumsy and the inexperienced, the fools with a noose waiting for them instead of old age.

"When she arrived, she was noticed. My- the Equestrian rulers crafted a body for her. Perhaps they will do so again. They must know her spirit will linger on to afflict them, as yours did me."

"Afflict you with success, Queen. We have done everything you asked. We impersonate her adviser as we speak. The other child has been locked away helpless. We will ensure that neither of them are missed for as long as you require. Though... it would be easier if you require less than a full day. They have daily attracted a crowd to their work. Dispelling that crowd tomorrow afternoon would be a challenge."

She shook her head. "No need, Equilibrium. By tomorrow the imprinting will be complete and our captive will make her miraculous return. Our train will be far away by afternoon. And for you..." She grinned, feeding him the tiniest trickle of love. He sipped greedily, as all her drones would. "When was the last time I gave you a male changeling form to wear?"

His eyes devoured this news more hungrily than he had the food. "Too long, My Queen."

"Don't think I don't reward successful labor." She lifted the squirming filly with contempt, levitating her writhing form into the waiting runes. She drove a stake forcefully into the ropes that bound the pony's hooves. Then, very carefully, she pressed the jagged metal into the pony's neck. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough that the pony got the point. She stopped squirming, and the muffled sound of shouting at the gag vanished. 

"Listen carefully, prisoner," Chrysalis whispered into one of the pony's ears, her voice dagger-sharp. "I am about to remove the gag. If you scream, I will cut your throat. If you try to use your feeble pony magic, I'll make you wish you were dead before I slit your throat. Nod once if you understand."

The greenish filly nodded in the darkness, moisture gathering on the blindfold on her eyes. Tears? Chrysalis didn't have to guess to sense the child's terror and fear. She cut the gag with a quick slice of metal on cloth, pulling it carefully from the filly's mouth. True to her nod, the little unicorn did not scream.

"Excellent. Give me your name, prisoner. Do not bother lying to me; I'll know, and I'll be forced to hurt you. I do not wish that to happen."

"S-Second Chance," the filly squeaked, her voice barely above a whisper. 

Strangely, Chrysalis sensed no dishonesty from her. Had she not known her true origins, she never would've suspected the pony wasn't everything she seemed to be. The deception was endearing; she would've been very pleased with any of her daughters who had enough discipline to mask their emotions as well as this little unicorn could. "Yes, but not only that." She leaned closer, pressing the length of metal a little deeper. "What else?"

A brief silence, then, "Kimberly Colven. Serial number 1684-4911-0399."

"We knew it!" the drone exclaimed from near the door, his eyes intent. "Dr. Colven, we've been waiting for you. An honor to finally-"

Be silent! Chrysalis shouted the command silently at the drone, a mental order that any of her brood was bound to obey. Of course he was not strictly a Changeling, and could have resisted if he really wanted to. He didn't, either for lack of will or effort, body abruptly dropping into a submissive posture. You distract the process; get out. 

He obeyed without a word of objection, opening the door quietly and shutting it in similar silence. Only when he was well and truly gone did she turn her attention back to the prisoner. "A strange name, prisoner. Tell me, who cares for you in Equestria? You have no blood here."

"T-Twilight," she stammered. "P-Princess Twilight Sparkle."

"And how long have you been here in Equestria?"

"F-Four months."

Chrysalis paused. "Listen carefully, prisoner, and remember. Know that I have you in my power. Know that I could accomplish my purpose with you and leave you a corpse for your noble masters to find. I show you mercy instead. Let them prove themselves of the virtues they claim by showing that same mercy when our situations are reversed."

The frightened quivering stopped, and even in her turmoil Chrysalis was not blind to confusion from the filly. "What?"

She couldn't tighten the makeshift knife any further without cutting the filly, so she didn't. Instead, she pressed down on her with telekinetic force, crushing the air briefly from her lungs. She could've smothered the very life from the pony if she wanted, though of course she wanted no such thing. "Remember, prisoner. Swear you will remember, or I will hurt you further."

The filly coughed and spluttered under the pressure, but eventually managed to squeak. "I-I swear! I'll remember!"

"Good." Chrysalis released the pressure so the filly could breathe again, moving across the room in silent steps. There her daughter waited, only hours away from being born. She lifted the cocoon in delicate magic, lowering it down beside the runic circle with careful precision. "These next few hours will probably be quite strange to you. Count yourself lucky I have written a memory spell into what is about to happen to you."

She lowered her head, focusing intently on the cocoon. Are you ready, little one?

Yes! The response came without hesitation. Do it, mother! I'll make you proud!


* * *


For a timeless eternity Second Chance floated in the void, not even conscious of herself. She was conscious of nothing, nothing except the fact she was not alone. There was no form to judge where or even what her companion might be, and her memory refused to give context to specific events. Where had she been? How had she come to be here? She had no idea.

Mom won't leave me out here, she found herself thinking. She'll come for me. At the thought, two images came to mind. One was the face of Twilight Sparkle, her guardian for these many months in Equestria. The other? Not a true image, but structured sound. A voice in the darkness that spoke kindness to her and fed her affection. But no, Chance did know that voice. It was the voice of an evil pony, the one the evil guard had brought her to. She rebelled against the idea that such a one could ever show kindness, rejecting that image in favor of the first. The presence (she could think of no other word) within her mind seemed shocked by her interpretation of the voice it associated with "mom," but it did not argue.

Second Chance allowed her mind to drift and wander back into the silence for a time she did not quantify. Only as time passed did she find herself thinking again, and not even without really realizing it. Where did everything come from?

She found herself answering the question even though it felt mostly like it was coming from herself. Nor did she get the chance to consider the question carefully. In the beginning the Earth was without form and void. As she spoke, images filled her perceptions. A great sphere of molten rock appeared, though she herself had nobody to look upon it. Great cracks split the magma as it hardened and cooled, roiling in the dark.

Chance recounted modern theories on the formation of the early Earth and the evolution of life in exhaustive detail, and with each question the images below them became more precise. Perspective shifted randomly and without warning, one moment in high orbit and the next in the burrow of some primitive reptile.

Eventually she finished, though she was not left in silence this time. The world she had described into being remained beneath her. Only meters away a tribe of primitive Homo sapiens gathered around a campfire, speaking in harsh grunts as they shared some meager meal.

What are they? Why do they matter to you so much? They are not ponies, they are not changelings or griffons or dragons. Why do they matter?

Because they're me, she replied. Or they're my ancestors.

Primitive. Chance was quite sure it was a distinct voice now. In a way, this felt a little like her arrival in Equestria, what little she could remember of it. Not having a proper body, listening to the voice of someone she was certain couldn't speak her language. Exchanging concepts and concrete ideas until she had learned enough of the language behind it to be able to communicate in abstractions instead. They have no fire, no wings for flight, no claws for hunting and digging burrows. Weak prey is hunted and eaten, and only the strong survive.

You would think so. The world she showed had no magical beasts, no ponies. But it did have its share of predators. Gigantic cats with fierce teeth longer than human hands. Wolves bigger than any Equestrian pony hunting in massive packs. Bears that could tear a man in two with little effort. Yet instead of being hunted to extinction, the little human tribe grew and spread across the face of the earth. Flint knives gave way to slings and spears and copper. What the animals gained from their bodies, humans overcame with planning and forethought. They spoke and planned and learned the ways of their enemies, then hunted many of them to extinction. Soon it was not the great beasts feasting on weak primates, but primates feasting on them. Only the smaller, cleverer predators survived.

The presence did not speak at first, but it seemed awed. Mother didn't tell me anything about this. I didn't think it was possible.

You didn't think what was possible? Though the presence hadn't asked, Chance kept the images going. She didn't have to actively be explaining it, so long as she kept thinking about it. Since she had a feeling about the questions that might follow, she pushed her imaginary world onward at a breakneck pace. Agriculture transformed the countryside, turning scattered tribes into villages and towns and cities. Wooden buildings were replaced with stone ones, and written language appeared.

She didn't mention anything so terrifying. The cooperation and resourcefulness of ponies with all the strength and ruthlessness of changelings. Even as the voice spoke, a great empire rose up in the Mediterranean, sparing its enemies and breaking the proud in war. Armies of millions fought and died. Even then Chance could not say if she had watched the thousands of years pass in real time, or seen them flee as a dream.

Why have they not taken all of Equus? Why did mother never mention them? They should have conquered all the world by now.

This isn't Equus. The empire fell, breaking into a hundred scattered pieces. Another civilization far in the east continued where they had ceased, coming within inches of a technological revolution, but never crossing the threshold. Another thousand years passed before anything recognizable began to appear. Electricity was discovered, automobiles began to replace horses, and the first aircraft took to the sky. Industry filled the skies with soot even as it filled homes with machines and libraries with books.

This is my home, a planet we called Earth. If the voice was Equestrian, this was the point where the world would lose its close similarity. Now a thousand times more numerous, great empires rose again to war twice in the lifetime of one generation. Atomic fire burned the sky as young men died and millions starved or were cruelly murdered. At first, the presence had reveled at the scenes of war between human nations, finding them familiar and comforting in a way that disturbed Chance greatly. Yet as time passed, her own attitude seemed to find greater purchase within the stranger. By the end of the second great conflict, she had become every bit as disgusted by it as Chance herself was.

Does it ever end? You've killed enough of each other. You should stop.

Not for another hundred years. And so time passed. The reasons never really changed. They're all really wars for resources, when you get right down to it. The only way to end them all was to end starvation and poverty and bring abundance.

Starvation is being so hungry you die, said the voice after a little delay. I know starvation. It happens to changelings all the time, but mother said it would never happen to me. Another pause, longer this time. She says I'm going to make it so it never happens again, but I don't know how. How did the humans do it?

Technology. Computers transformed the world almost overnight, and with them the speed of change began to increase. Machines became increasingly inexpensive as they became more efficient, so quickly that many in backward parts of the world got cell phones before they got running water. Oil was replaced by fission and then fusion, even as farms imitated the structures of the cities and rose up instead of out. Massive machines sequestered carbon into the earth even as others desalinated enough water to provide for the needs of every citizen and industry. Education improved, and as the skill of workers rose in nations around the world, so did their productivity. National disparities began to fade. Wars finally ended, and national boundaries began to dissolve. Huge space stations appeared in orbit, and the surface of the moon was transformed by growing colonies. Huge ships bound for Mars and Venus began to leave on regular trips, and voices began to speak of more distant colonies too.

The vision did not comfort the strange voice. Changeling? Had that been what she called herself? Chance didn't know what that was, though the term was vaguely familiar. Something to do with a wedding maybe? Whatever she was, the vision of prosperity brought darkness to her companion's mood. You can't grow love in farms or print it with machines, it said darkly. What worked for them will not work for us. The swarm will still starve.

Love, Chance repeated. The vision had started to slow to the speed of a single life, a young child living on the streets of a coastal city in North America. She did not wish to take this vision further, and could only hope she wouldn't have to. You can't mean what I’m thinking. Love is an emotion. The image focused on the child, lying awake and frightened in bed as an older male sang softly and comforted her. That is love. Why would a lack of it starve you?

I never felt it, but my mother showed me what it was like. Suddenly the strange presence was the one guiding the memories. Nothing new appeared superimposed on Chance's view of Earth. Instead it was a feeling, a gut-wrenching emptiness that spiraled down within her and twisted her nonexistent body into painful spasms. It was hunger, more intense than any hunger she had ever experienced.

Chance couldn't have been more eager for the memory to end. I get it, you eat love somehow! Stop showing me! The presence complied immediately, and the strange memory ended. Okay. You eat love, and you'll starve without it. What about the ponies you take it from? Does it hurt them?

No, came the reply. I don't think so, anyway. Mother explained it like ponies just giving it off all the time. Ponies feed on each other's love already, just differently. They eat it to get emotionally stronger. We eat it to get physically stronger. It's basicly the same.

If that's true, why don't ponies give it to you? It seems like they don't have anything to lose.

There was a delay, accompanied with a feeling of shock. That is... not how mother says the ponies feel about it. There is a long history between us and ponies. They killed us more than they gave us love to eat.

Chance shivered inwardly. Maybe you just didn't ask the right way. I was a stranger when I first met the ponies too. She turned her attention briefly on the child, building a castle on the beach. Was it just her imagination, or did that castle look like the one in Canterlot? Couldn't be. They never tried to hurt me. Even when I put Equestria at risk they tried to help me.

The memories beneath them had slowed to a crawling pace compared to the rush of history that had flown by earlier. Chance knew why of course; she couldn't go any further without watching the Great War. Yet something was pulling her mind forward, forcing her to show the strange presence everything she had seen. She would relive everything, and somehow she knew that nothing she could do would make a difference.

I'm sorry you have to see this. Chance couldn't look away, couldn't cover her eyes with hands or hoof. She had neither of those here.

Sorry about what?

You've seen the rise of my people. Now you will see their fall.

The presence seemed confused. I thought you said there weren't any more wars. You made all of them go away by making sure everypony had enough of what they needed.

That's what we all thought. But we were wrong. The perspective shifted, backing further and further away from the planet until they were in orbit again. Blue appeared over the continents as they spun, superimposed on brown and green. We'd got rid of all the countries and stuff. The whole world was part of a single government, called the United Earth Federation. It worked for us for a hundred years – I know that doesn't sound like much to you, but that's a long time to us. It all started with a stupid intellectual argument. See, this country here made all our computers.

What's a computer?

Chance groaned inwardly. Whatever strange magic was upon her would not allow her to stop explaining, but it did let her deviate. She would have to show the strange presence everything she knew. So long as she was showing something, she wouldn't have to relive the war. So she spent what felt like hours going over the text from a few dozen books about computers. 

Only when she was finished did she resume her explanation about the Great War. The company that did most of the computers was called 'International Steel and Silicon.' They figured that they finally had a computer big enough that it could simulate a human consciousness. They ignored all the laws that made direct-human-machine integration research illegal, and came up with a way you could copy somebody's brain onto a computer.

The implications were huge. Being a computer meant you'd never get tired, you'd never get old, and you could trick yourself into experiencing any sort of life you wanted. Only the surgery was illegal, since from the Federation's perspective all it did was kill you and make a copy.

International Steel persuaded the representatives in their state to withdraw from the Federation and form their own government. England turned red, and the color spread gradually throughout Europe. Lots of other states followed. Even though less than half of the people in most of them wanted to go digital, the law made lots of people think they weren't as free under the Federation as they wanted to be. Africa, Australia, Russia, and the Middle East glowed in Red. 

This all happened before I was born. Right after it happened, things had been pretty peaceful with the Steel Tower – that's what they called themselves now, the CEO of International Steel and Silicon had made himself king – but they stopped. People figured out they could kidnap digital people and repurpose them for running drones and computer systems way cheaper than developing AIs smart enough to react with human intelligence. 

The Tower responded by sabotaging the companies it suspected of doing the kidnapping, and got lots of innocent people hurt in the process. Viruses got sent both ways. Starships fell out of the air mysteriously. Terrorism on both sides, and a growing ideology that neither side really counted as human anymore. The Tower passed some laws forcing its biological citizens to go digital or be forced into it, and the Federation responded with huge rescue missions.

She paused, trying to think of more she could say to get out of talking about the war as she remembered it. Nothing further came to mind, and the strange magic that tugged at her would not permit her to stop. So she kept speaking. Instead of recreating history, she was reliving her own life. Every moment on Earth, every moment in Equestria; she experienced them all.

Only when it was over did she have a body again. In the strange time that defied understanding and the space that seemed beyond her easy classification, Chance opened her eyes and found herself staring at herself. A perfect double filled the space before her, perfectly mirroring her movements. The other had experienced everything now; every moment. Where there had been one, there were now two.


* * *


Brigid Aherne stood confident in a dress of frozen starlight, watching the transmission as it took shape. She knew the person that would appear even before the signal had resolved. Tesla appeared only slightly distorted by the transmission, the robes of his office tight upon his shoulders and black hair short and disorderly.

"Lady Brigid," he called, inclining his head in a slight bow.

"Lord Tesla." She echoed his bow in a deep curtsey. "I was composing my report mere moments ago. I assure you, I would have made the deadline."

"Of course." His projection folded its arms, occasionally flickering with the strange distortion of the universal gulf. "I never doubted it. King Richard did not doubt you either, however, he felt your mission vital enough to merit my personal attention."

She nodded again. Bree wouldn't offer him refreshment this time, since of course he was not really here. Tesla transmitted an image and she sent an image in response, no minds actually traveled. "Of course. You wish to hear my report, then?"

Tesla gestured dismissively at the air. "I can read that when you send it. For now I'd just like to confirm a few things on behalf of the king." At her nod, he continued. "You have obeyed the command to avoid contact with the equines?"

"Completely. They have no idea I'm here."

He nodded dismissively. "Of course not. My trust was always complete. And you have made progress?"

"Significant progress," she agreed. "My report will describe it in great detail. My fleet is four times the size it was upon arrival."

Even Tesla looked impressed. "So soon?"

She nodded. "My report describes the process in detail. I have no doubt King Richard will be impressed."

"Perhaps he will." Tesla sighed. "I hesitate to say so, but I was also sent to deliver an imperative. I suspect you have done little to investigate the fate of the late Sir Leonidas. The king wishes to determine beyond any doubt what became of the man."

"I..." Bree swayed for a moment, considering whether she ought to tell Tesla about what she suspected. In the end, she elected on the negative, and remained silent. "I understand. I have already searched for his location transmitter, without success. Perhaps there is more I could be doing."

"Perhaps." Tesla looked dubious. "Between the two of us, Brigid, it seems a waste of time to me. He knew the risks when he embarked, and the Tower has enough of his sort as it is. Still – Richard wishes for you to make it a priority. So long as it does not jeopardize your mission, you are to discover what happened to him. Recover him if possible."

She bowed, less deeply than she had when he had first arrived. "It will be done."

He shrugged. "Of course, Lady Brigid. I look forward to your report." He vanished.

Bree hadn't felt physically weak for so long that she barely remembered the sensation. Still, she couldn't help collapse into a chair as Tesla vanished, rubbing her temples. There was political subtext, something in the rivalry between the Technocratic Order and the Crown.

She wanted nothing to do with it. She was a builder, an engineer. She would support whatever he wanted and leave him to worry about deciding what that should be.

She would not have peace to consider the conversation, or even to finish composing the report. Her clone didn't bother with elegance. One minute the space beside her was empty, and the next her fork was standing there. "You have a visitor."

"Who? Is it the scouts with those books I requested?"

"No. Facial recognition indicates the individual is the alpha named Rover."

She groaned. "I suppose I should deal with that." She rose, straightening her dress, and changing it to fabric more opaque. Just because the fashion of the court was one of immodesty did not mean she liked the idea of the dogs looking on her body that way. "First, establish a connection with the monitor in the central chamber. I need to speak with Simon."

There was no delay. Bree was suddenly looking out on a small gathering of dogs, speaking in energetic voices. Chief among them was the bard Simon, and it was to him she addressed. "Simon." 

He turned and lowered his head. "Great one."

"We spoke earlier about meat, do you remember?"

"I do." He lowered his head again.

She nodded. "I am sending a drone; please have it prepared to the highest standards of taste and quality as soon as possible." She didn't maintain the connection for any longer than necessary, switching her connection to the holographic projector in her quarters. Suddenly she was there, a figure of projected light amidst the dirt and rough furniture.

"My Lord Rover." She inclined her head slightly to him. "It's my greatest pleasure to see you this evening. How may I serve you?"

"You," he growled in response, hackles raised and teeth bared. "Like pony. Pretty words and promises. No action."

Bree did not react to his obvious anger, ignoring the threats in his gesture. He must know he could do nothing to her; even if he had figured out the drones were the key to her presence, destroying the drone with the projector wouldn't harm her. Bree never would've put her mind anywhere it might be in danger. 

"Not so, Lord Rover." She gestured to a chair, but he ignored the gesture.

"You break all promises!" He advanced on her, glaring fire. "You promise gems, you promise meat, you promise strength! Yet you give nothing! You take my dogs, send them on dangerous missions to the Everfree! You waste our metal, so no dogs get new armor and weapons. No more!"

"I see." Bree took a deep breath. "I hope you will forgive me, Rover. I had intended to make a surprise of it when I was finished. Yet... you are Alpha. I won't keep you waiting any longer."

This brought him up short, his anger turning to confusion. "What does the puppy mean by this?"

She groaned. "The puppy is going to show you that the Tower honors its promises." She turned away from him, though since her eyes were in the drone, she could still see him clearly. "Follow me, Lord Rover. I'll show you what I have done with all I asked of you."

Perhaps if she had been mortal she never would've dared turn her back on such an angry creature, with teeth and claws gleaming. As it was, she swirled about and marched away, towards the flimsy wooden barricade that blocked off the entryway from what had been a simple disused mine. She stopped at the door, folding her arms. "If you would be so good as to get the door."

Rover hesitated, his paws clenching into fists. "You think you lead me into the dark, make me go away?" He shook his head vigorously. "I won't be tricked."

She turned, rolling her eyes. "I mean no harm to you, Rover." She raised her hand over her chest. "I swear it by the iron of the Tower and the throne of the King."

He met her eyes, sniffed, then grunted. "My mate knows I'm here. She would be here, but she is helping with a delivery. She will come soon."

"Good. When we're done with the tour, you can show her what I showed you, and seem wise and informed." She privately added: it wouldn't be hard to seem wiser than you are now.

"Fine." He grunted again, shoving the flimsy door ajar. "Show me."

Bree had left the mines closest to her small chamber untouched, as much because of the noise as because she didn't want to chance anyone who visited in her absence to spy out what she was really doing. They had to walk for a good ten minutes, in darkness broken by Bree's own projection and the flickers of Rover's torch. She had left the path exactly as she found it, not wanting to give any who might wander any clues about how to find the center of her activity.

She spoke as they walked, hoping to distract him from the distance. "The Steel Tower has seven doors and seven gates," she said, as though remarking on the weather. "I have traveled through them all for your pack."

Rover shook his head vigorously. "Old city had gates. Not new burrows. No more enemies from below, and only ponies above. Gates don't make sense."

"Not gates of metal or stone. Intellect, science, knowledge, fortitude, temperance, justice, and prudence. Your dogs will have to travel through them too, if you wish to be fellow citizens with men and women."

Rover's visage was angry again. "This why you came? Change us?"

"Of course." There was no sense in lying. "For the better. You dogs are living in the dirt. You wither away with time and disease both. You don't get to eat the things you love. Most importantly, you've been relegated to a footnote of history. You hide under the earth, and don't make anything of yourselves. I aim to change all of that. You will trade all your weaknesses for strengths and become the greatest pack the world ever saw."

Rover had nothing to say to that, and they spent the remainder of the walk in silence. At least until they neared their destination. "I smell something," remarked Rover, sniffing at the air. "Smells like water. Like a lake. You made a lake?"

She shrugged. "After a fashion. Cover your eyes. It is very bright ahead." Indeed, the ground already began to shine with reflected light, a sign of what waited beyond the next bend. Rover nodded curtly, and Bree led the way beyond into the center of her work.

The cavern itself was the largest her drones had located in this mine. Fully fifty feet high and four times that distance across, the chamber served for most of what Bree did in the depths, and all that she wished the dogs to know about. The first thing she saw was the algae fields, a pair of massive shallow basins in the rock. Brilliant full-spectrum lights ran in stripes above them, with mirrors angling all that light and energy down towards the even green. Skimmers churned slowly across each basin, sending away what they collected in pipes that churned and seethed with living cargo. Of course, only one of the tanks raised food. The other churned with an organic plastic factory. Not that Rover had to know that.

The path went from rough stone to a hard plastic catwalk, built in modular chunks a growing distance above the ground. A full dozen drones buzzed or crawled about the chamber, and the whole place rung with the sound of machinery. A pair of microfabricators churned constantly now, processing the metal ingots the dogs had given her into more machinery for her operation. Past the algae vats was the first of the organic fabrication cells, where all the algae flowed as it was harvested.

Rover was stunned speechless, and he stared about the huge chamber in utter shock.

"I made three promises to you, Lord Rover: meat, gems, and power. Let me demonstrate I plan to honor them all." She gestured at the vats. "These grow a simple plant, one that grows quickly and produces all the nutrients necessary for life. One of those 'dangerous missions' I requested your dogs take to the nearby pony village was to recover tissue samples from a number of the prey species there." She took several long strides forward, prompting Rover to follow in a deaf stupor.

She gestured at the towering machine below and beside them, perhaps twenty feet wide and forty long. It was built in modular rows, each of which contained a gelatinous, transparent tray. Within each grew chunks of bodiless muscle tissue of goats, cows, and ponies, sustained by the algae she grew. "This is the meat I promised you." A drone came at her command, pulling out one of the trays from the rack. A hunk of haunch that could've belonged to a pony if it were anything more than disembodied muscle. Its blood was yellow-green instead of red, and its only life was the occasional twitch brought on by electrical stimulation.

"Simon told me packs used to go to war over meat. Became enemies with the ponies over meat. Now you will have more than you can ever eat."

"That?" Rover pointed in disgust at the tray. "That isn't meat. Your false flesh is made of a lake plant from a cave. It will taste false! No dog will eat it!"

"We'll see." Bree folded her arms, and the drone returned the tray to its place. "My people were predators too. When there were more of us than animals to hunt, we had to grow our meat. At least, until we ascended beyond such physical needs." She nodded emphatically. "Before then, the science became quite advanced. I assure you that should a cut of what I give you be pitted against the 'real' thing, it will be superior in every way."

"Words again. You do all this, but you still just like them. All words."

"I'm surprised you can't smell the cooking. As we speak, one of your dogs is preparing the first of many meals to come. You may judge for yourself whether my claims about the taste are true."

He considered that for a moment. "You send my scouts to pony village, and make flesh from magic. Can you make flesh from your kind? What if dogs want that instead?"

Bree was no longer underground, no longer immortal and inhumanly intelligent. She was instead very small and very feeble, piled into the back of a truck with many other hunks of human meat. They were women all, all young enough to be attractive and all looted from the ruins of her city. Many whimpered in the sweltering heat of the truck, though none cried. Bad things happened to you if you made too much noise.

Her mother had been one of those. She had watched awful things happen to her, and she hadn't come back. Bree was too young to be interesting to most who came, so she was spared the worst of it. Unfortunately she was also clever, and knew what the "organ farm" that was their destination really was. "They're not really alive," the soldiers would say. "Not really people." Even she had started to believe it.

Brigid Aherne no longer sounded submissive, didn't even sound respectful. Her voice had frozen deeper than any arctic winter, ice with razor edges and many spines. "Of every tree of the garden thou mayest freely eat: but of the flesh of man, thou shalt not eat of it; for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die." There would be no precedents set by her hands that would end in humans being eaten, even if those humans belonged to the enemy. She would never allow anyone to share her fate, even the enemy.

Silence persisted for several seconds, though Bree was ultimately pleased to see it was the alpha who broke eye contact first, retreating with animal signs of submission. As it should be. Animals ought to submit to gods. She resumed the tour, showing Rover the artificial gems she had grown in their purity. He demanded to "try" one of those as well, and she nearly screamed as he took a fist-sized Sapphire in hand and began to chew and crunch it in his mouth like rock candy. 

"Y-You eat... You eat gemstones?"

He nodded, licking his lips as though enjoying some flavor there. "If your meat is this good, I will take back everything I said about you."

So it was that she brought him down the ladder to the lowest level of her chambers, where the rumbling of machines shook the earth. Chiefest among them was the microfusion reactor that had been her first project, turning water into sunlight in the space of an old-Earth automobile. She did not bother explaining any of this to the alpha, and instead led him along the stone to the largest of the fabricators. She had saved the greatest shock of all for last, the one she hoped would both win his loyalty and his submission in one fell swoop. Prepare for transfer to subunit H1, she instructed her fork.

Command acknowledged. Transfer ready.

"When I arrived two weeks ago, you wanted to know why I could not be touched." She grinned at him. "I believe the time has come to be a spirit no longer. The last promise was power; let me show you now your new allies have power over matter and being itself." Activate transfer.

Brigid's senses briefly went dead, and her projection vanished from the air. No doubt poor Rover was startled by her sudden disappearance, though she didn't have the pleasure of getting to see the expression on his face. Her perceptions abruptly returned to human clarity, filtered no longer through the alien lens of a drone. She was abruptly within a human body again, albeit one hidden away in the foam that wrapped everything her fabricators made. She lay in darkness, the soft embrace of black foam and fabric all around her. She sat up, tearing free of her springy coffin with the ease of rigid servos.

After more than two decades, Brigid had a body again.

She had not forgotten how to move, and with practiced ease she tore the remaining foam from her body, rising to bare feet on bare stone. The cloth of a Technocratic robe billowed about her willowy form, though it was made from woven plastic instead of silk. "Lord Rover," she bowed again, more deeply this time, and was pleased to see his shock had lingered long enough for her to enjoy it.

Brigid offered the dog her hand. "My people have conquered nature, Rover. Let us show you how it's done."


> Chapter 11: Helpless
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Apple Bloom had never worked so hard in her life. No harvest had ever motivated her to such violent action, not even the contest over cider-making when her farm had been in jeopardy. True, every passing hour made it more likely her friend would be taken too far to easily follow, and what she had seen happen just outside the lab all but proved the guards had been impostors. 

Every ounce of her concentration was devoted to engineering her way out. The magical glass proved resistant to drilling and heat, and she had managed nothing more than to score a few deep gashes. The concrete might be reinforced with thick rebar, but it was the only way she knew that promised even a faint chance of actually succeeding.

There were chemicals and dangerous machines galore; and with Chance's tablet she had a good chance of putting them together in such a way that she could blow her way out. Only; any solution she tried would have to be damaging enough to get through the door without turning her and everything else in the room into a fine paste.

That meant explosives were right out, even though she knew from experience that plenty of the bottles and jars along the far wall could be combined in several different destructive ways.

Naturally she had opened up the blinds, hoping that somepony would wander past and she could shout and gesture for them to let her out. But hopes of that were slim; the event was over for the night, and anypony who visited would've technically been breaking the rules to be here. Waiting until morning was safe enough for her, but that would've left her friend completely on her own with ponies she had seen commit acts of violence with her own eyes.

In the end, Apple Bloom had put together a contraption that would use her own earth pony strength (such as it was) along with levers and pulleys and an electrical heating coil. She strapped into the contraption, cinching the straps of what had been her saddle-bags until she had mutilated them beyond recognition. Braces attached to each leg and wrapped around her chest. The faux-leather kept the better part of the heat from her skin, or at least it should so long as she didn't wear it for too long. Apple Bloom secured the tablet in a clip she had installed, so she could look down and follow it with ease. She was pleased to see that, even after the many hours she must have already spent working, her friend hadn't ever traveled outside the range of the tablet's searching. Whatever the evil guards had done, they hadn't taken her too far to find. Perfect.

"Well, here goes nothin'." Apple Bloom spread her legs, then flicked a lever on the side of the machine. Heavy spikes swung outward with almost magical force, anchoring her to the floor. Another flick and the coil began to heat. A high pitched ringing sound echoed from behind her even as a roughly rounded section of heavy steel clicked into place against the door. Apple Bloom waited the few seconds it took to build the required tension, then closed her eyes behind the safety goggles and slammed her hoof sideways against the activation lever.

The force of the impact shot through her body with a surge of brief agony, though the greater part went through the metal exoskeleton. Were that not so, it was likely the force of the impact would've shattered many of her bones, earth pony magic notwithstanding. The pain wasn't nearly intense enough to blot out the avalanche of sound as the door was torn from its hinges and flung to the ground, bits of jagged steel poking through where the force had shattered much of the concrete.

Apple Bloom stepped out into the hallway, illuminated only by the glow of Chance's tablet. Those humans were so clever; they'd even put a light in the front in case somepony wanted to use it to see. She didn't remove her contraption even though the warmth was beginning to grow uncomfortable on her back. She was up against ponies able and willing to use violence; she might as well keep whatever advantage she could. Maybe a bit of steel and wire could make up for her considerable size disadvantage. 

Before making her way out of the lab, Apple Bloom took a detour down the other hallway, the one that ended in a storage closet. It was locked, but it was just a door of flimsy board, not even solid planks. A single buck freed the doorknob from the door and let it sag open.

There was a body on the floor, tightly bound with strong cord. Apple Bloom didn't have a knife, but the edge of one of her anchoring spikes worked well enough. Confident Theory was conscious, though not coherent. She staggered and barely seemed able to rise to her hooves. Apple Bloom explained her plan to rescue her friend, and asked the pony bring help as soon as she could. She could afford to wait no longer, so that was where the filly left her behind, hurrying out of the lab and trusting to the tablet's feeble light to help her find her way.

She made it out onto the street and wheeled sideways, ignoring the few ponies sitting outside the hotel staring at her. Her sister's voice sounded silently in her mind, urging she abandon the rescue and get help instead. Applejack never thought she could take care of herself. Apple Bloom would show her, and she'd rescue her friend while she was at it.

Seaddle was not like Ponyville, and the city didn't just go to sleep when night came. Yet as she turned down a side street into an industrial sector, she found there were no longer any ponies to stare at her strange costume, and most of the windows were dark. At least the streetlights were kept lit, so she didn't have to rely on the feeble glow of the tablet to light her way. Her hooves pounded on the pavement beneath her, ignoring the weight of her contraption and the tiredness that came of many hours of work. There would be time for rest when her friend was safe again. It was no less than any of her friends would've done for her.

Eventually she reached the building that the tablet seemed to be leading her towards; a massive water treatment plant. Even in darkness, faint lights glowed from inside and a billowing cloud of steam rose from cooling towers. Apple Bloom probably should've gone to the front doors, yet she knew the office would be closed this late at night. It would not be taking visitors, certainly not unsupervised fillies wearing dangerous contraptions in the middle of the night.

Instead, Apple Bloom chose to follow one of the unspoken but most frequently followed doctrines of the Cutie Mark Crusaders: It was easier to say sorry afterwards than ask permission before. The gate to a flimsy chain-link fence did far worse under the pressure of her harness than the blast door had, screaming faintly as several posts were torn clean from the asphalt. The service door wasn't even locked, so she didn't rip it from its hinges as she had many of the other obstacles she had encountered so far. She was close now; had to be. She would find Second Chance no matter what tried to stand in her way.


* * *


"These came from the castle library?" Bree lifted one of them, careful not to put too much pressure on what was clearly an ancient cover. Whatever the ponies had used to make their paper, it was hardier stuff than what humans used on Earth.

The rough group of dogs all nodded together. Bree was thankful she could selectively disable the senses on this body; they smelled quite repulsive after their trip through the forest ponies called the Everfree. Yet regardless of the state they had returned in, she could not begin to fault their results.

"Yes," Spot eventually answered more definitively for the squad he had led. "Found all the books Simon told us to get. Had to look at his drawings; none of us can read pony."

Bree set the spine down against the table, opening the covers simultaneously and ruffling through the pages, loosening them before she dared attempt to open and read. She opened the book wide in one arm, then began to flick the pages at a rate of about five a second, just slow enough for her eyes to capture a clear image of the text on each page.

"But you can?" Simon rested in a nearby chair, both forepaws on his walking stick and inspecting the books.

Bree waved dismissively to Spot. "Your dogs did good work, Spot. Talk to the alpha down the hall, she'll give you your reward. Then... take the opportunity to bathe. I believe you could all use the- the rest." None of the dogs saluted, but they all lowered their heads with respect and hastened to obey. Only when they had all gone back into the brightness of Bree's central chamber did she speak. 

Of all the diamond dogs she knew in the dark, only Simon had earned the privilege of her frank honesty. Bree began flipping through the pages again, though it was trivial for her to keep talking. "I don't, no."

"I could help you translate, Builder. All the old writings are in written Equestrian just like this, before we came up with our own written form."

Bree shook her head, and took a seat across the table from Simon. She pushed one book away and began flipping through the next one in a similar way, giving her eyes clear vision of each page in its turn. "I appreciate your willingness to help, but it won't be necessary. I have diverted the processing power of all my drones to the translation. By the time you had started reading, I wouldn't need your help any longer."

Simon considered that a moment. "You learn that quickly?"

"The advantage of a mechanical mind." She tapped the side of her head for emphasis. "It's the next stage in evolution, Simon. Your dogs will be as capable as I am when they reach it."

He chuckled. "Maybe. In the meantime, do you mind if I read these with you? It isn't every day I get the chance to read books this ancient. There are probably fascinating stories in these."

"I thought the alphas didn't like it when you told stories that weren't about dogs."

Simon's smile widened. "I change the characters around a little, and he won't know any different. Might be all I'm doing is putting the story back to how it was." At Bree's nod, he slid the book towards him, even as she picked up a third and began scanning it as she had the other two.

"How's that?"

"Things weren't so stable back then. Lots of wars; dogs and ponies and griffons. Whenever one group came up with a good story, it wasn't long before everybody rewrote it to make it about them. Lots of our oldest stories are that way; we don't know for sure if they're really about dogs, or if they aren't about someone else." He held up the book. "Though, unless I've forgotten how to read the pony language, this one is about the succession wars of the Unicorn Kingdom. Probably not what you were looking for." He kept reading anyway, though at a pace more reasonable for an organic that had to actually use their eyes to examine each word and reconstruct sound based on the patterns of symbols there.

They worked in silence for a time, so that the sounds of working dogs and machinery in the large cavern nearby echoed in again. It took the combined processing power of all Bree's resources about fifteen minutes to work out a translation with any degree of certainty; a task made more difficult by the clearly dated language present in the book, not entirely consistent with the language files on Equestrian. If she had the resources to produce exotic matter here in Equestria, she could've had a non-deterministic processor and the solution in linear time.

That done, processing the books she had read so far was almost an instantaneous operation, and she knew that none of them contained further information on Leonidas or anything even remotely resembling him.

"What did you say the stories called him again?"

Simon looked up. "Leo the bold, the ponies call him. They speak about all the dogs in those battles like they were ponies too. I would fault them for it, except to listen to the stories of the First Invasion in our ballads would have you think the pony princesses never left their castle and that none of the ponies lifted a hoof to fight." He shook his head. "Pity."

"First Invasion." Bree flipped through the first few pages of each of the remaining books. Now that she could read them, it made sense not to read tomes whose titles were on obviously unrelated subjects. "What was it like?" She found three books in the dozen with titles promising military history of one kind or another, and resumed flipping through them as she had the others.

Simon's face darkened. "Wish I could. There are lots of stories; actually, most of our really good stories are about the Invasion somehow. Problem is, almost all of them disagree. I don't know which side the dogs fought. There are hero dogs like Beowulf, who killed a dragon with just his paws, or Azeban, who tricked the princesses into signing the treaty that let dogs dig in Equestria ever after. I could tell them to you, if you wish."

Bree nodded. "Another time, perhaps." The book in her hands nearly slipped from her fingers, and she hastily flipped to the indicated page. "This is it." She pushed the other books aside. "The dogs can return these, this is the only one I need."

"You know already? You've just been flipping pages."

"I've been memorizing." That wasn't exactly true, but it was the closest parallel in meaning they would understand. To demonstrate, she closed the book again, and read out loud from the image her eyes had captured. 

"‘The great hero's love for his princesses protected him from the flames. At the arrival of Princess Luna, the army halted for eleven days as a great feast and funeral games were...’" she trailed off. "Then lots of stuff about the contests and who won, then: ‘His body blackened, but intact, the procession carried him into the castle catacombs, where he was interred with honor beside the noble heroes already resting there.’"

"Why did you want to know where he was buried? He's been dead for over a millennia... Do you intend to send his remains back to his family?"

"If that were possible, I would prefer to send him back." She rose to her feet. "Travel moves only in one direction. Stabilizing the door requires a machine I can't presently construct. She shook her head. "When my king learns Leonidas is intact, his first command will be to abandon all else and recover him at once." She shook her head, biting back the words she wanted to say. That Richard would've been a better king if he left fools like Leonidas dead. So all she did was groan. "I suppose I'll have to bring him back from the dead."

Simon nearly choked, his eyes widening in surprise. "F-Forgive me, Builder... but he's been rotting for more than a thousand years. The pony princesses loved him dearly, and even their magic couldn't revive him. Is your magic mightier than the power that raises the sun and keeps the moon in its course?"

Bree shook her head, fighting to keep the scorn from her voice. Simon came from a primitive society, it was no fault of his he had absorbed their misconceptions. Yet, she also knew the natives called ponies did have some kind of power that humans did not. She had seen images of the native called Clover, and the flash of light and power that had eventually returned her to her world.

"I cannot move the stars," she admitted. "And I couldn't bring back any other dead creature, let alone one dead that long." Indeed, the Steel Tower had, even after many years, failed to discover the way for two minds to reproduce. This was a serious concern, since until it was solved their numbers could only diminish over time. It was why, even the most anti-biological of their number agreed, that primitive humans would have to be allowed to survive. They would need a stock to recruit the best and brightest from in the endless future that waited.

"But Leonidas is like me," she gestured at her body. "We are a greater form of life than mortal creatures. So long as fragments of his body survived, I can use them to bring him back."

There was a long silence, as Simon considered those words. When he spoke, it was more cautiously, as though he was afraid that his words might offend her. "Are you not... Even if you have this power, wouldn't it be cruel to bring him back now? He's been dead many years – surely his loved ones are with him there. Maybe you should let him remain with them in peace."

So the dogs believed in an afterlife? That was cute, but it hardly served her purpose to correct him now. "His family lives still in the Tower. He will return to them in time, when his duty here is done."

"The catacombs." Simon rose beside her. "It would take months to tunnel that far. Even if we did, our rights to Equestrian minerals don't extend to their cities. Protection spells would find the burrows. If we sent dogs on the surface, they would be noticed. The ponies wouldn't be happy if we went into their tombs and desecrated the graves of their heroes."

Bree nodded. "I won't send dogs. As you say, the danger is too great." She gestured at an apparently empty patch of air in front of them, and out from active camouflage appeared the first of her stealth drones, its skin returning to the white-plastic look that was the standard for drones. It wasn't truly what their surfaces looked like, but Simon didn't have to know that. "I will send these."

She reached out, putting gentle pressure on the top of the quadcopter. It resisted at first, tilting and gyrating to compensate. Eventually it gave up, and the rotors stopped spinning. She caught it, taking it up into her arms.

"Your insects are silent and invisible?"

"A few of them are. They were too delicate to send ahead of me, but thanks to the pack's hard work, I've had more than enough resources." She grinned. "Let's bring back the dead."


* * *


Twilight awoke with a violent start, her horn coming to life almost of its own accord as she felt the pressure of another's hooves on her shoulders. She stared around for the source of the disturbance, only relaxing when she saw the pony responsible: Rainbow Dash.

The mare put her hooves up defensively. "Jeez, egghead. If I'd known you were going to freak out so much, I would've let you sleep."

She didn't answer at first, using her magic to straighten out the mane that had gone completely askew during her involuntary nap. "At least you didn't knock a hole in the wall this time. It took weeks to coax the tree to grow over the opening last time."

As she had done hundreds of times before, Twilight had fallen asleep while reading, face pressing into whatever book she happened to be reading beyond her capacity to stay awake. Unlike every previous instance, this "book" was a single flat slab of thin plastic, the device Second Chance had referred to as a tablet. She searched its surface for damage, but found not only was it intact but the machine still displayed the text it had been showing when she dozed.

The sunlight glowing its way down from the open stairwell indicated it was already daylight outside. Fantastic.

"Yeah, whatever. You know I only do that when I have a really good reason." She shrugged her shoulders carelessly. "Besides; you're in the basement this time. I'm not sure I'd win in a contest with the sides of the tree and tons of dirt." Her friend cast her eyes around the room, lingering on the tablet. "What the heck kinda book is that?" Without a word, she squeezed past Twilight to the edge of the desk, looking it over. Granted, Rainbow had very little patience for machines, and her interest lasted only a few seconds. To her great surprise, Rainbow began reading from the top of the page, her pace halting but far better than it'd been a few years ago.

"...show deference to the gods and pity for myself, remembering your own father. Of the two old men, I'm more pitiful, because I have endured what no living mortal on this earth has borne – I've lifted up to my own lips and kissed the hands of the man who killed my son."

She took a deep breath, pushing the tablet away from the edge of the desk and turning away. "Woah, Twi. What kind'a depressing stuff are you reading?"

"Tablet, clear," Twilight said. The screen flashed white, then blanked. She levitated it onto the nearby shelf, concealing it between two large books before turning back to Rainbow Dash. "Remember the night Second Chance arrived?"

Rainbow Dash shivered, then nodded. "When the magic went all funny and you used Celestia's spell thing, yeah. What does a magic depressing book have to do with that?"

The words were out before Twilight knew what she was doing. "It's part of my new mission from Princess Celestia. She wants me to-" That was when she realized what she was doing, and she stopped abruptly, ears flattening on her head.

Her prismatic friend watched, eyes intent. "Wanted you to what?"

She sighed, plopping onto her rump and glaring down at her hooves. "I hadn't actually planned on... on telling anypony about it." As Rainbow's expression darkened, she continued. "Not that I don't trust you! Or the others, for that matter. It's just-"

"You didn't want us to worry?" Rainbow Dash finished, her tone skeptical. "You think I can't handle it?" She puffed out her chest, brushing a wing against Twilight in the process. "I can read depressing books as fast as anypony! Faster! You know I'm the fastest in Equestria!"

Rainbow Dash certainly was not the fastest reader in Equestria, but Twilight wasn't about to say so. Her friend was so proud of her (admittedly substantial) gains over the last few years that she failed to realize she'd done little more than make up for the improvements she would've been making automatically if she'd kept reading as a part of her life. "It's not that I didn't think anypony could handle it. I just thought since taking care of the filly was my responsibility, this would be too." She glanced briefly over her shoulder at the bookshelf where she had hidden the tablet. "All this research does help me understand her better."

Her friend's eyes grew annoyed. "Don't try to change the subject, Twi." She nudged Twilight with her chest. Twilight couldn't tell if the gesture was meant to be affectionate or belligerent. Just as a great deal was with her cyan friend. "Are you gonna tell me what this mission is, or aren't you? I don't see how any book assignment you got from Celestia could be that big a deal. Haven't you been doing those like, since forever?"

"Yeah, but..." She took a deep breath. "You promise not to tell anypony? Pinkie Promise?"

The pegasus rolled her eyes, then repeated the familiar mantra: "Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye." She stopped, looking Twilight up and down with an expression of growing concern. "You look terrible, Twi. This thing's been hard on you."

"Yes." It was now or never. "What if you had to judge a whole species? What if the decision you make would decide the future of billions of ponies? And... and, if you made a wrong choice, everypony you knew might suffer because of it?"

Rainbow Dash whistled. "Woah. That all?" She sat down beside Twilight, close enough that Twilight could feel the heat of her. 

Before she even knew what she was doing, Twilight leaned against her friend, biting back tears and reveling in the comfort of physical touch. It was a simple, animal feeling, one becoming an Alicorn hadn't entirely strangled. She half expected her friend, perhaps the least comfortable with physical contact of all her close friends, to stiffen or even pull away. Rainbow did the opposite, draping her wing across Twilight's back and providing a firm support for the fearful princess.

"It's okay, egghead. I'm here." 

Twilight cried. She wasn't sure how much, or for how long. It felt like hours, though it couldn't have been more than a few minutes. Eventually she found her self control returning, and she wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of one foreleg. "It's not... I probably shouldn't be freaking out this much about it. You know me; I tend to get worked up over the littlest things." She took another steadying breath. "Chance came from somewhere else, you already knew that. There are two things you didn't know, though. First; she's an ambassador from another world. She hasn't always been a pony." Twilight concentrated and lifted the cloth concealing Truth not ten feet away. The human device was presently in some sort of power-saving mode, but Twilight didn't want to talk to him.

Merely revealing the artifact had the desired effect, if the shocked expression on Rainbow Dash's face was any guide. She went on without giving the pegasus a chance to recover and interrupt. "The other thing you don't know is a little more complicated. Clover the Clever, she saw this vision the princesses both think is at least mostly true, about the end of Equestria." She shivered, meeting Dash's eyes. "It's scary, Dash. I'm in it. A thousand years, and she saw me." She couldn't restrain a shiver.

"I don't see what those have to do with one another. Some stuffy old pony gets a vision, and apparently your filly's an important alien. So what?"

"The end of Equestria," Twilight repeated. "The end of the world. She saw it. That's why Ce-"

"Wait a minute." Rainbow rose to her hooves again, pacing away a pace or two. "Princess Celestia and Luna saw this vision too, right?" She nodded, and her friend continued. "So what are they doing to stop it? If they saw it all those years ago..."

That was an interesting question. Twilight didn't have an answer beyond her own experience, so that was what she used. Anything more would have to wait until she saw Celestia or Luna in person again. "Remember that time I saw myself from the future, and I was convinced there was going to be some sort of horrible disaster?" Rainbow nodded. "I ended up causing the trouble I thought I was preventing. Trying to prevent the future when you think you know it might be the thing that makes it happen in the first place."

The pegasus shrugged. "Celestia wouldn't just let it happen." There was absolute certainty in her voice. It was the same certainty that many ponies had, a faith in the princesses that bordered on the religious. Of all the ponies of Equestria, her friends had seen more of the weaker side of the princesses than anypony else. That hadn't been enough to make her lose faith.

"No, she wouldn't... and I don't really know what Celestia and Luna did about it." She looked down at her own hooves. "Except for one thing. Chance's people might be the way out. Accepting their help might be the only way to save Equestria."

Rainbow fidgeted on her hooves, taking another long look at the cube. "Okay. So what's the problem? Equestria makes new friends, the day is saved, everypony's happy."

"They might not be the way out." She looked up, towards where light came cascading down from the open stairwell. "That's what Celestia wants me to find out. If I decide they're safe, they'll help save us and we'll have to save them. But I might be wrong, and they might destroy Equestria instead of helping us. Clover's vision doesn't say."

"And the depressing books-"

"Chance's species made them. Not just books, music and plays and movies too." Twilight struck the ground with one of her hooves in frustration. "I don't know what to do, Rainbow! I thought it'd be obvious one way or another, that all this reading was mostly academic. It's not like we haven't always been able to tell the difference between a good pony and a bad pony before." She glared at Truth. "It's not that simple with aliens. They've got stories about the most horrible things, stories about things nopony would ever dream of." 

She shivered involuntarily, remembering one of the books she had only recently finished. "Poverty, hatred, violence. Revolutions so bloody they had to invent special machines with no purpose other than to execute a pony. Evil, indifference, disharmony."

Her friend stiffened a little, and she too glanced towards the stairs. "You mean we've been letting some sort of awful monster spend time with the town's fillies and colts? Where she could..." She scratched angrily at the floor with her hoof.

"No!" Twilight continued with hesitation. "They're not all like that! It would be easy to judge them if they were. They're just stories, not actual history. The stories aren't about that kind of thing... they're stories about condemning evil, about protecting the weak and caring for friends. Just... in the face of evil as bad as anything Equestria has ever seen."

Rainbow Dash seemed to relax, though she still looked uneasy. Twilight couldn't blame her for that. "So what are you gonna tell the princess?"

It took her more than a moment to answer. "They're... very like us. They care about all the same things ponies do. But they're also... more colorful than we are. Not physically... it seems more like they reach greater depths than we do. If there are humans anything like the ones in the story, than they've been more evil than any pony ever dreamed, even tyrants like Sombra. But for every one of those, there's been somepony just as good. Somepony like the princesses, who sacrifices everything for their friends. Who doesn't care what happens to them so long as their friends are okay."

"An accurate assessment, Princess Twilight Sparkle. Your research confirms what we have previously suspected."

Twilight blinked, turning to stare dumbfounded at Princess Luna, as she glided down the staircase into her basement.

Rainbow blushed, ears flattening as she shuffled on her hooves. "Oh yeah. I guess I kinda forgot that Luna sent me to get you." She dropped into a sloppy bow for the princess. "Sorry about that."

Twilight glared at her friend, before lowering her head in a nod of respect to the Night Princess. Like Celestia, Luna refused to tolerate anything more since Twilight's ascension. Not that Twilight understood why, it wasn't as though she was even princess of anything. Luna ruled over all the night and saw the dreams of all ponies. There wasn't really much of a comparison there.

"No apology is necessary, Rainbow Dash. You would have remembered eventually, I am certain of it."

"Why did you suspect that?" Twilight asked. This more casual relationship with the princesses did make things easier on her.

"Because Leo was that way. Passionate as few ponies are. He inspired courage in his stallions. When Equestria was in danger, he sacrificed his immortal life to protect it." She shook her head. "We have no time to speak of this now, Twilight Sparkle. That is not why I have come; we are urgently needed elsewhere."

"What's wrong?"

Luna's eyes darkened. "There's been some sort of attack in Seaddle. Details are presently difficult to secure, but what little I know indicates the filly's laboratory was attacked and destroyed and the two of them are presently missing. Whatever did this tore right through the building." 

Twilight was on her hooves again and hurrying after the princess before she even knew what she was doing. "I can round up the girls!" Rainbow called after, hovering in the air behind her. "Just give me a few seconds to round everypony up!"

"No time." Twilight found herself possessed of sudden, irrational fury. Celestia help them if they had hurt the filly. Her filly. Maybe she'd been premature when she said ponies couldn't reach the emotional heights humans could. "I'll be back." The shadows gathered around them, the earth itself seeming to shake as stars twinkled under Luna's magic. The usual implosion of a teleport sounded more like a thunderclap, leaving a dumbfounded Rainbow behind.


* * *


Apple Bloom was afraid, much more afraid than she ever would've admitted. Trapped within the darkness of the water-purification plant, she was reminded more and more of the absolute foolishness of this plan. She should've gone for the city guards, should've at least brought whatever adults she could find along for the rescue. Why hadn't she? She couldn't have taken the risk that she would be ignored (or worse). Tearing apart the laboratory's expensive equipment for parts and using them to blow a hole in the wall might be against a few laws too, when she thought about it.

The air was damp with moisture, and her sensitive hearing was made almost useless by the constant roar of water rushing and machines grinding away. Her sense of the earth beneath her hooves was even somewhat confounded, her connection to the magic of her race far weaker through concrete than it was through dirt or true stone. "Approaching target." The device sounded like shouting in the quiet of the factory, and Apple Bloom winced. She struggled with it for a few seconds, but of course she knew nothing about how to fine-tune its operation. "Fifty meters and closing. Medical sensors within range. Target is unconscious, heart rate of 45 beats per minute and stable. Blood pressure-"

"Please be quiet!" Apple Bloom whispered, furious anger in her tone. Whatever secrecy she had maintained on her approach was surely gone now. Miraculously, the request was sufficient to silence Chance's tablet.

"Well, wouldn't you call that interesting?" The voice came from ahead, far enough ahead that Apple Bloom's eyes failed to pierce the darkness even with the tablet's aid.

"A voice synthesizer." Pause. "And fear. Delicious fear." Hoofsteps sounded ahead, echoing closer.

Apple Bloom kicked the stabilizer, gritting her teeth as spikes drove themselves into the concrete. She switched on the coil, and braced herself for a fight. What would happen to a pony struck by a machine she had built to tear down reinforced concrete?

The guards came into view ahead of her, standing abreast in the hallway. They seemed to have no trouble finding their way, though neither had bat-wings. "Stay back!" Apple Bloom called, when they were perhaps ten meters away. Even that close, they were at best vague outlines in the gloom. "'Ah just came for my friend! I don't wanna hurt nopony!"

The ponies didn't stop, not until they had closed the distance to perhaps two strides. "Why, that was a synthesized voice!" The first of the speakers gestured at the tablet mounted to her harness.

"Civilian ruggedized datapad, if I'm not mistaken." The second of the not-guards had a mare's voice instead of a stallion's, but almost the exact inflections of her twin. "Where would the child have found one, do you think?"

"Well, it obviously works." He glanced briefly over his shoulder. "The doctor must have made more progress in her mission than we suspected." She felt a brief, magical tug on the tablet, an aura of green trying to pull it away from her. Unfortunately for her enemy, Apple Bloom was thoroughly and completely grounded.

Magic, like electricity, had rules governing its behavior. Like electricity, it interacted with metals in different ways. She had learned this lesson during her many hours of potion making, observing the interactions of the various catalysts with the innate magic of the plants Zecora used. In this case, Apple Bloom's body was wrapped all over with metal, including the little bars and clips holding the tablet to her. All of that, connected to steel spikes driven into the earth.

The stallion grunted, and his horn glowed briefly bright enough to light the chamber behind him. The vast majority of the levitation dissipated harmlessly into the earth. Of course, only a shield spell could ground a spell out completely, but the effect was enough that her greater physical strength could more than compensate. That was, of course, the other reason for the spikes. Just as unicorn magic could be grounded out via a strong connection to the earth, her own strength and resilience would only be increased. Such was the blessing of the earth.

"Clever filly." The stallion's eyes turned dark, and for the first time he looked at her instead of the machine. "Did you escape with that contraption?"

"Well, obviously. Look at the dust in her mane. We should've bound her."

Apple Bloom glared between them. "Give me my friend back. I'm not leaving without her."

The ponies paused, glancing at each other. A silent conversation passed rapidly between them, before they turned back to face Apple Bloom without any obvious signals they had finished. "She isn't here," the mare supplied. “A colleague of ours is already on the way back to the hotel with her. She might already be in your room waiting for you."

Apple Bloom didn't need her sister's natural talent for sniffing out falsehood to know she was being lied to now. "Liar!" She looked down at the computer. "Tablet, who are you looking for?"

As before, the machine responded to her commands. "User Kimberly Colven, local designation 'Second Chance.' Subject has been located via nanophage radio response ping. Accuracy: 1 meter. Subject appears to be waking. Return to consciousness estimated at forty-five seconds."

The ponies in front of her shared a worried glance. "No choice," the mare said.

"Have to kill her. Quickly." The stallion agreed, without a sign of remorse. 

They charged. Bolts of sizzling magic flew. Most went wild, splattering onto the concrete, though a few struck the metal supports of her device and were channeled downward into the earth. Apple Bloom whimpered, but she did not falter under what looked like two royal guards bearing down on her with murder in their eyes. She braced her hind-legs, preparing her small body for the impact. She waited until the enemy had closed to within a meter, close enough that they drew their weapons and prepared to strike her.

With a great roar, the contraption released enough force to tear through concrete, mechanism slamming forward into the bodies of her assailants. It didn't have the piercing power to breach their breastplates, but it didn't need to. With a sickening crunch like breaking twigs and a splattering of green fluid, the ponies jolted suddenly forward. Green ichor sprayed her face and splattered on the screen. A second later, guardspony's armor clanked noisily to the ground at the edge of the hall. 

Only by drawing on the strength the earth gave her did Apple Bloom keep herself from vomiting right then. She wiped the strange, putrescent fluid from her face on the edge of the mechanism, listening for the sound of her enemies rising for another assault. None came. So she wiped off the edge of the tablet, enough that she could move forward again in its feeble light and investigate whatever carnage she had caused.

There was only one relief in the scene that waited for her; the bodies were clearly not ponies. The sudden concussive force had squished her attackers like insects. Now, that was very much how they looked. Black, chitinous bodies. Translucent, multifaceted eyes, and green ichor instead of blood. Changelings. The monsters that had attacked Equestria during the wedding, killed hundreds of ponies during their assault on Canterlot. Her own sister had dispatched more than a few of the vile creatures...

She was getting distracted. If the stories she had heard about the wedding were true, where there were a few changelings there were always more. She had to get out of this building and back to the hotel with Chance before more of them came to investigate the noise of battle.

As Apple Bloom moved past the fallen insects, she felt something strange brush past her, and she froze suddenly in her tracks. It was no physical object, but a... presence. She looked around wildly for the source of whatever magic assaulted her, but found nopony. "W-Who's-" the sound died stillborn in her throat as something surged at her from the fallen changelings, straining against her consciousness. She found her hooves moving again of their own accord, back towards the bodies.

Apple Bloom wasn't about to give up that easily. She might not be a unicorn, with memorized charms and counterspells to fall back on, but she wasn't about to let herself get stopped by anything this close to success, no matter how powerful it might be. "NO!" She dug in her heels, and came to a skidding stop. Her body responded sluggishly, and she nearly fell over in the struggle.

You will obey us. It was not one voice in her mind but two, a male and a female that sounded almost exactly like the changelings she had just slain in self-defense. How was that possible?

"I won't!" She felt the strange presence pulling at her hooves, trying to make her move again. Not to step, not this time. Instead, they forced one of her hooves up, angling the mechanism still damp with changeling slime. With shaking hooves, she lifted the machine, pointing it upward at her own neck. It was all she could do to slow them, as their combined will battered at her mind. They were so strong! Whatever minor relief she might feel to know she hadn't really killed them, even monsters as evil as changelings, was swallowed in the terror of what they were trying to do. "You can't... make me!"

Even in "death", they still intended to kill her. No matter what she said, there was nothing she could do about it.


> Chapter 12: The Brave and the Fool
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Second Chance heard it like a voice, though it was not a voice. "Installation Complete. Performing Startup Sequence." As though she had been abruptly plunged into a sensory deprivation chamber, her senses were suddenly cut from her, and she was floating bodiless in the void. She would have screamed, except that the Nanophage had stimulated a state of sleeping immobility in order to protect her from herself.

It was a good thing too, because panic rose in her. The being now named Second Chance had seen and felt incredible things in the void between spaces, things no organic being was ever meant to feel. Celestia had taken those memories away at last, but she had not taken away the horror. Millions of human lifetimes of isolation, neither living nor dead, and she felt renewed terror in the void.

But it was only temporary. Her vision was the first to return, and it seemed little different for the change. There was now an Infolink overlay at the bottom of her field of view, currently the bright green that was its default color. Right now it only read, "System Startup Sequence," but she knew that would change.

This was the moment, then. Hiding out in her guts and neutralizing toxins was a fairly simple task. But establishing the complex changes to her brain chemistry, building the sub-processors that would supplement her own intellectual abilities, that had taken more time. Senses she hadn't had and sub-dermal radio transmitters and receivers all had been constructed now. Would it work with the body of a pony? Would it kill her?

Sound came next, then smell, though there wasn't much for the former to tell her and she usually ignored the latter. Smell might be important for natives, but Chance had never used it much. It was easier to simply file away the sensations when they grew too intense instead of attempting to analyze them.

Of course, those were not the only senses she had anymore. Magnetoreception was the first of the new senses to flood into her brain, making for a very strange complement to the perception of thaumic fields that had already been developing slowly as she practiced magic. Actually both senses were virtually identical, with an almost visual image of "energy" that flowed in different patterns with different strengths. It was hard to say which sense came more naturally, though after all this time in Equestria the magic was almost more familiar to her.

She assumed that the radio senses came next, though of course there was nothing more there than the background static and she quickly shut that out. There was no internet here, there were no quantum databases for her to reach. Just her own mind, a mesh network of one.

"Startup Sequence Complete," said the voice into her senses. "WARNING: μFabrication cannot be responsible for the effects of any Nanophage products on subhuman species. This species varies from registered genetic profiles by 11%. Neural pathways differ from registered profiles by 5.27%. This product is not designed to uplift subhuman species."

"Then why are you telling me?" she asked dryly, speaking aloud. Of course there was no response. The Nanophage was not an AI except under the broadest possible definition, and the processors it had built within her brain would not be able to handle anything but commands it was programmed to accept. She couldn't ask it to reason out how it was possible an alien species living in an alien universe shared 89% of its genetic material with humans, or how the structure of its brain was a maddening 94.73% similar to human beings.

"User Note: Trichloromethane dosage of approximately 25 ml neutralized. Expect mild digestive discomfort as the waste material is discharged. For full pre-activation medical log, use the 'Medical Log' command. To start the Nanophage feature demo, please-" Her ears were assaulted by terrified screaming. A terrified filly, and one she knew well. Apple Bloom.

Second Chance tuned out the voice, and tried to sit up. It was at that point she realized she'd been painfully hogtied, and was unable to sit up. There was fabric on her face, a cloth sack of some kind. With casual magical effort, she pushed on the sack, shrugging it off. With the black bag removed, she could see the ground of a dim, dirty room. It was completely empty, swept clean in fact, aside from the pipes on the ceiling and mounted onto the walls.

Wait, had she just used magic? There was no time to consider it now, not with the awful sounds coming from outside. She searched for something she could use to cut her bonds, and found it in a sliver of sharp metal near the far wall. Despite having not been able to use her magic for the last few weeks now, her memory of how hadn't faltered. The length of ragged steel shot towards her, and moved of its own accord towards her bonds. With a little mental pressure, there was a loud snap, and she wiggled to her hooves.

She bolted for the door, kicking it open with a bang. The hall was dimly lit, though she didn't need mounted lights to see the source of the screams. A tablet computer was mounted to some sort of strange exoskeleton, and in its glow she could see the face of her friend, splattered with something green and twisted into anger and fear. One of her hooves moved up slowly, shaking violently.

Chance made her way out into the hall towards her friend, and very nearly tripped over a pair of bodies on the ground near the door. Guard armor, but there was no evidence of a guard within. The bits and pieces trailing green slime were black and chitinous, like some sort of gigantic insect.

There was no time to investigate now, not with the faint whimpering coming from her friend. Was that better than the screams? She rushed towards Apple Bloom, letting her thaumic senses expand as though they hadn't been stunted for the last few weeks. She sensed the problem at once, a terrible pressure forcing its way down on Apple Bloom's skull, as though the poor filly's head was coated in a thick layer of conscious tar.

Chance didn't know what the magic was, exactly. It didn't matter. She was not about to let some awful magic assault her friend. Chance had never learned any proper counterspells, not when she'd only just mastered levitation when she had lost her magic. That didn't mean she couldn't do something.

Under the pressure of her perception, Chance saw what she hadn't noticed at first. It wasn't just magic gathering around Apple Bloom's head. No, the patterns of magic were far too concrete for that. Too ordered, too regular. What she was looking at was a mind, a mind divided into two parts. A mind assaulting one of her best friends.

Twilight never would've stood for it, and she wouldn't either. Chance tackled her friend to the ground, or tried. Something had caught on the stone, as though she were anchored there. Her pressure wasn't hard, but it was also perpendicular to the direction that had been reinforced. With the sound of metal sliding on concrete, a pair of spikes came free, and they tumbled together to the ground.

Out! she thought furiously, trying to coax her horn into doing more than just levitating. She poured in all her anger and fear for her friend, all the frustration she felt after her week without magic. She poured it all in and more.

"Magic is an exercise of will," Twilight explained, as a dozen silver balls spun through the air around her. "There is no formal levitation spell because, like all spells, all levitation is only a desire to do something so strongly that your magic forces it to happen in the physical world. You're taking the vision of the mind and making it real."

"Are all spells like that?" Chance asked, pointing to the spell diagram in the book she had been trying to read. "This light spell, could I do it without a diagram too?"

Twilight nodded. "Many unicorns do. When Princesses Celestia and Luna move the sun and moon, they don't use diagrams either. Anything is possible if you have the will."

Chance had the will now, and she summoned it forth. She expected a glow, or perhaps a flash, but none came. Instead, and very much to her surprise, she heard a voice. The familiar, synthetic voice of the Nanophage speaking in her mind. "Thaumcraft node activated. Active spell module: translocation."

She felt a roar as all the magic she'd been building abruptly released from her horn, spinning and twisting into patterns more complex than any she'd ever imagined. More complex than any she'd ever seen, save perhaps the diagrams Celestia had used to purge her memories.

"Warp field stabilized. Excursus engaged." A crack of air like thunder shook them both, and Chance found the air painfully ripped from her lungs. It felt for a second as though they were going to be ripped right out of her body, even as the gray of her magic engulfed her and her friend but left the awful presence behind.

Their transit was practically instantaneous, and an explosion of terrible force answered the previous implosion as they appeared in the air of their hotel room several feet above the ground. The force shattered glass outward, ripped the door from its hinges, and flung the beds and everything else not bolted down several feet before dropping them unceremoniously from the air, covered from head-to-hoof in a thick layer of frost. Steam issued from the end of her horn like a gun fired on a cold day.

Chance found the effort of remaining conscious abruptly too much for her, and she did not sit up. The darkness that came now was a relief.


* * *

                          
It was a strange night in the Canterlot Archives, Secret Lore could practically smell it. Something was on the breeze, the winds of danger and change. Was anything happening in Canterlot above? Nothing he knew of, though he would’ve admitted more than a minor amount of disconnect with current events. He could count the living ponies he knew well with just his hooves.

That never really mattered to Secret Lore, though. There was enough of the past worth preserving that he never really felt regret not being more in touch with the present. That said, he was very serious about his charge. The archives held many ancient secrets, more than he could’ve studied in a lifetime. He had served nearly a century in the darkness of the archives, and still he discovered new passages and chambers almost daily.

There were no guards within the archives, none beside the ones that stood vigilant in the castle and city above, and Lore had no assistants. In all his years of service, he hadn’t yet found a pony to whom he could entrust the safety of Equestria’s history. Twilight Sparkle had come close; probably would’ve been the one if she’d been a pegasus, and Celestia hadn’t snatched her away.

As a result, he had nopony to take with him into the darkness. None besides the princesses knew the twisting maze that was the archives, as was the design. It was hard for an enemy to break in and steal when not even your friends knew the secrets they might come for. It meant there were no assistants to travel with him into the gulf, and whatever strange things he might search out he would have to find on his own.

Secret Lore sought out the areas most dangerous first, where awful things from the time of Discord and earlier screamed and roiled in the darkness. If any of Equestria’s enemies wanted to do her harm, that was probably the first place they would look. Yet Lore found all the old enchantments strong as ever, and the monstrosities they contained trapped. He passed the vaults of gold and silver and precious things, huge troves of (relatively worthless) precious stones, and the works of art no longer on display above.

Lore spent nearly an hour wandering the vaults, an hour he could’ve spent at home drinking tea and reading a good book. He turned around then, thinking of the Ancient Lands Penology waiting on his armour at home. He still might make it home to get a few chapters read before it was time for bed if he hurried.

That was when he smelled it. It wasn’t as though there was anything particularly unnatural about the smell. The Archives had always had their own distinct scent, of earth and mildew and rotting wood. This was something different, a smell he had only ever smelled in pegasus weather factories. It was the harsh, electrical tang of ozone, like a thunderstorm. Aside from weather production facilities, he knew pegasi could fly fast enough to charge the air that way, though he couldn’t imagine even the most skilled managing to move that fast in the tight quarters of the Archives. With so many unpredictable curves and turns, not even Lore would’ve dared such speeds.

What, then, could’ve caused it? Lore went from wandering between the most valuable or dangerous objects to following his nose. He was surprised to note the smell continued, growing stronger as he closed on the source. Had some spell escaped the academy above? Was one of the artifacts loose? Either way, he shuddered at the destruction it might cause if it escaped the archives. Whatever magic it was, it must’ve been powerful to avoid being grounded out this deep under the earth.

To his great relief, the smell did not seem to be leading him to any of the sections of the archives with exits to the surface. Instead, he found his path turning towards the burial catacombs, where many of Equestria’s ancient heroes had been interred. There was nothing dangerous to be found there, and all surface access to those areas had been sealed once all the living relatives of the dead and all their children had passed away.

Most of Lore’s fear that the spell could somehow be a living pony had faded as it grew stronger still, and he didn’t expect to find anypony at whatever dead end he found himself in. He would get a good look at whatever spell it was, then report back to the princesses so it could be taken care of by somepony who actually had the requisite skills. It wouldn’t have been the first time something had gotten loose, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

As he neared his destination, passing through the close cells of the upper levels, Lore was surprised as the strange silence broke with the quiet grinding of stone not far away. Could it be someone was lifting the lids to one of the great coffins? Why in all of Equestria would anypony want to do that?

Lore was no warrior, but he could fly quietly when he needed to. That was what he did now, lowering himself with the delicacy of a butterfly towards the source of smell and sound alike. If the intruder was a pony and not a spell, he needed to be positive he wasn’t seen. Any intruder was likely to be more capable than an aging old pegasus.

As Lore dropped into view of one of the oldest tombs, he saw that the intruder was no pony at all. She was not lifting the lid of an old coffin, but was in fact returning it to its place, slim body moving the 500 kilograms of carved stone with the strength of an earth pony. She was not an earth pony, however.

The intruder had lifted the coffin of Leo the Bold, and laid the body at her feet. Lore was immediately struck with how intact Leo was after the millennia he had lain in sleep. He’d been wrapped in a robe of some kind, gray and stiff but with no sign of decay. His skin was black and bubbled, like melted plastic. His hair had gone completely. Other than that, though, the body looked for all the world as though time had not touched it at all.

The intruder was everything Leo had been in life. Her skin was pale by comparison, lacking the unnatural bubbles and warping. Her hair was flowing, like a crimson curtain behind her as vibrant as the mane of any pony. She wore no robe, and instead had donned armor similar to that resting on the shelves for Leo. It was far smaller by comparison, lighter and thinner, and left her legs bare from the knee down. She had no tail to speak of, and whatever ears she had were concealed in the curtain of her hair.

Secret Lore should have fled right then. The Builders were an ancient, immortal, and pseudo-divine race, one well beyond his powers. He did not even consider that the intruder wasn’t on a benevolent mission. Rather, the intruder was greater than himself. A situation like this called for Celestia or Luna’s personal intervention.

But Lore had been reading about these beings his entire life. He’d visited meetings of the Precursor Society, and speculated with the best of them about how they might really be like. How could he flee from what might be the only Precursor to have visited equestria in a thousand years. Even if he found Luna (Celestia would have long gone to bed), and they teleported straight down here, she could easily be gone by then. The intruder already had the body. All a delay would get him was a missing corpse.

So instead of fleeing into the darkness, Secret Lore touched down on the stone with the soft clinking of hooves, and lowered his head respectfully to the intruder. “It’s been a long time,” he said, keeping his voice low so as not to startle her. She was tiny compared to the corpse, perhaps two thirds of Leo’s height and only a centimeter or two taller than Lore himself. Did that mean she was not an adult, or did Builders just have extremely pronounced sexual dimorphism?

“Many years.” The Builder’s Equestrian was perfect, her voice high and melodic. It was, he imagined, very much the way one of the princesses might’ve sounded in their youth. Confident, powerful, but also young and almost playful. He doubted Leo had sounded anything like that. “I have come for Leonidas.”

“How did you find him?” Lore asked, genuinely curious. “These caverns are a dangerous maze, meant to confuse our enemies. Not that… I’m saying you’re Equestria’s enemy. But I’ve worked here my whole life, and I still sometimes get lost in the Archives. I smelled your passage in a straight line – it doesn’t seem like you had to backtrack even once.”

True to the stories of the Builders, this one didn’t evade or try to dance around the question as some ponies did. She spoke simply and directly, just as Leo the Bold had always done. “When Leonidas came here from our world, he needed energy that you could not provide. He brought it within his body, in a material we call enriched uranium. This material radiates a form of energy I can detect. Once I learned the approximate location of his burial, I used radar to plot the caverns and calculated a path that followed the radiation here. It is a good thing you kept him buried here; his personal energy units had developed a dangerous radiation leak. Prolonged exposure would have killed any organic that spent too much time around him.”

Secret Lore considered that a moment, glancing again at the stranger. There was an alien beauty about her, he couldn’t deny it. Those limbs, lithe and thin like a pegasus, but as strong as an earth pony and as wise as the most gifted unicorn. Was that what made the builders so great? Had they all been Alicorns on the inside?

Yet despite all her honesty and grace, one thing about this meeting had begun to bother him. “We would have been happy to return his body to you if you asked. Why sneak in late at night? I know Princess Luna in particular will be thrilled to hear of your return.”

The stranger nodded, elegant red curls cascading down her face in the light of Lore’s lantern. It was hard to say which between the two was brighter. “We did not wish our return to be publicly known among your kind. Soon, perhaps, but not now. Asking leave would have by necessity involved announcing ourselves.” She shook her head, turning away from him and back to the body. “I’m very sorry. I had not intended anyone to be here.”

A shiver went through Lore at the apology. There was a tone of finality in that voice one rarely heard from ordinary ponies. Or sane ones, for that matter. “S-Sorry for what?” He took a step back, his wings fluttering in agitation. Should he run? Would it make a difference if he did?

“For what happens next.” She bent down, scooping up the corpse and casually snapping off the head as though removing heads from thousand-year-old bodies was part of her ordinary routine. There was no smell when she did, no ichor or filth. Only a few loose strands, like glass noodles hanging down from the point at which the head had been severed from the shoulders. She slipped the head into a pouch hanging from her back, then turned back to lift the monument back up. “My condolences, native. I regret having to kill you.”

That statement remained as true to what Lore knew of the Builders as anything else she had said so far. Her apology was sincere, too. As sincere as a pony might be to the ants trying to ruin their picnic, right before they crushed them under hoof.

Lore turned to flee, but it didn’t make the slightest difference. He felt a sudden, paralyzing energy course through him, an explosion of electrical energy that sent his body into useless spasms. The lantern hanging from his harness smashed as he fell and went out with a splutter, plunging the pegasus into sudden, total darkness.

The pain was excruciating, and for several moments he was conscious of nothing at all. When finally his perceptions returned, Lore found himself moving rapidly through the air. There was no sound of wings, though a breeze rushed constantly around him from all directions. Tiny claws seemed to be gripping his body in a dozen places, and it was these claws that held him aloft. He could still smell the familiar scents of the Archives, though it was mixed with something new and close. Plastic?

As his strength gradually returned, Lore tried to struggle free of his captors. He succeeded at first, only to invite the electrical assault a second time. As before he screamed in pain and impotent anger, but his voice went unanswered in the darkness of the archives. He did not try to escape again, hoping perhaps that by keeping his body limp and feigning weakness he might be able to conserve his strength and make another escape attempt before the Builder carried out whatever grizzly fate she had planned for him.

Murder? Could a Builder really have broken into the archives and now be planning to kill a helpless pony in cold blood to keep her secret? That anypony, much less a mighty eldritch being like a Builder, would be capable of such a feat was almost beyond belief.

Secret Lore would not be able to report what he had observed, however. When he had flown in the dark for what felt like hours, the near-silent things that transported him abruptly stopped moving forward. He looked around, but of course the darkness was complete and he could hazard no guess at where he had been brought. He didn’t struggle, but it didn’t matter. They shocked him one more time, making his body go limp and spasm about uselessly even as all those tiny claws abruptly let go.

Lore plummeted into the darkness far too fast to recover control of his wings in time. Even at its highest point, the hundred meters of the archive caverns weren’t nearly deep enough for whatever stunning spell the Builder used to wear off. So Secret Lore plummeted, and struck stone with a sick, wet thud.

At least it was a clean death.


* * *


“Don’t take me away, Princess! I’m not ready!”

For the second time that day, Chance woke to the sound of Apple Bloom’s voice. She opened her eyes immediately this time, fearing her friend might be in as much danger as she had been the last time. She wasn’t bound, nor had cloth been used to blind her. Rather, Chance was resting in a hospital bed, in a room large enough to share with a second pony.

Apple Bloom rested in the bed beside her. Princess Luna stood less than a meter away, looking down on the filly. Chance couldn’t see her expression, nor could she see any of her friend besides the top of her mane. “Fear not, young pony. I have not come to take you anywhere.” Chance let her eyes wander through the hospital room. This one was similar to the last one she had visited, though there was a distinct lack of locks on the doors or rune circles on the ground.

There were a few chairs against the walls, of the low-backed variety that ponies seemed to prefer. Only one was occupied. “T-Twilight?”

The mare had been dozing in her chair, but Chance’s words were all it took to rouse her to activity. She was on her hooves within a second, embracing Chance with all the affection expected of any mother. “Thank Celestia you’re okay, Second Chance!” Even in bed, Chance had rarely been hugged so tightly. All dignity at her returned adult memories was forgotten in the face of her adoptive mother.

“Okay?” She blinked. “Why wouldn’t I be okay, Twilight?” How much did Twilight know?

“The doctors said they’d never seen a pony with so little magic.” She broke the embrace, though didn’t move far away. “You were like a sponge someone had wrung out. What happened?”

“I think we’d both like to know the answer to that.” Princess Luna turned to face her, smiling down at them both. She flicked one wing towards the corner of the room, where what was clearly the remains of Apple Bloom’s ad-hoc exoskeleton had been piled up against the wall. “And many others. The proprietors of the Seaddle Mareiott, for instance. The owners of the chemical laboratory you were given to use.”

“And me.” Twilight didn’t sound peremptory, though. Only curious, worried.

Chance looked away, glancing past Luna to Apple Bloom in her bed. “Are you alright over there, Apple Bloom?”

Her friend answered, sounding more than a little weary. “Yeah.”

“You want me to tell them?”

“Yeah.”

So she did. Chance told them about the guards, about being led out of the laboratory and down the street to the water treatment plant. She told them about the spell she’d felt, incapacitating her, and waking up bound and blind with that awful voice threatening her. She repeated the message her kidnapper had given her, hoping that the wording or the message itself might reveal enough to bring the evil pony to justice. Though Luna nodded with apparent comprehension when she repeated the message, she had nothing to share (at least not with Chance) about her thoughts on who it might actually be.

Apple Bloom spoke up then, seeming to have recovered some significant portion of her strength. Chance listened with as much interest as anypony else in the room. She shrunk with horror as Apple Bloom explained she had been the one to trash the lab, stripping the useful components from their refining mechanism and everything else in the lab.

Chance couldn’t help be impressed at the exoskeleton now that she knew where it had come from. Her friend had built it in just a few hours using a random smattering of parts? Perhaps it wasn’t as overt as the magic unicorns did, but Chance couldn’t believe for a moment that magic hadn’t been involved somehow. Nothing else could possibly explain getting something functional without decades of schooling and planning. Right? The alternative was to believe ponies were orders of magnitude more intelligent than humans, which was far harder to accept.

She listened to her friend’s story of breaking into the water-plant, confronting the fake guards, and defending herself against them with her machine. That fight had an unfortunate conclusion for the guards, transforming them into the insect-like corpses Chance had discovered when she woke the second time. 

“I knew they were attacking you,” Chance interjected. “I wasn’t sure what they were, or how.” She turned, looking towards Luna. “If they came from the changelings Apple Bloom squished, why didn’t they die?” Her face flushed with fear. “Is that common when ponies die in Equestria? Do spirits usually linger on?”

Twilight and Luna shared a look, though it was the latter who answered. “Not often, Second Chance. As a matter of fact, the number of ponies capable of that feat was thought to be fixed.”

Apple Bloom was sitting up by then, and Chance could get a better look at her. She could see her eyes widen. “Wait, Princess, are you sayin’-”

Luna shook her head. “I’m very sorry, young filly. I can’t tell you anything about your parents. Only that the enemies you faced weren’t slain, and will be returning.” She lowered her voice, and seemed to be speaking more to Twilight than to either of them. “Clever, using changeling drones instead of trying to foalnap ponies from Equestria.”

“Explain again how you escaped?” Twilight sat behind Luna, looking between them. “It felt like a teleportation spell, but… I know I haven’t taught you how to use those. Did somepony help you?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Chance strained her memory for the specifics. “It was the Nanophage… it took this long, but it’s finally working. Somepony wrote a program to help unicorns with spellcasting I think. When I saw the pain Apple Bloom was in, I didn’t really understand what was happening to her, but I could tell somepony was trying to hurt her. My magic was back, so I just used all the magic I could. I put it all into a spell... and the Nanophage helped. Well… it did everything. Guess I must’ve been thinking about the hotel room, if that’s where it sent us.” She looked to Luna. “I don’t know how anyone could’ve written a program like that. Magic’s a complicated science. It would require a skilled software developer and a skilled spellcaster both. I don’t know of very many of those. Not even me.”

Twilight seemed to share Chance’s confusion. Luna, however, did not. “Do not let it concern you, Second Chance. My sister and I know of this.”

“You do?” Chance and Twilight asked, speaking with such close timing that one voice was hardly distinguishable over the other.

Luna nodded. “Another time.” She flicked an ear towards Apple Bloom, though the gesture was covert enough that the filly didn’t seem to notice. “The two of you have need of another day or so of rest, particularly you Second Chance. This ‘Nanophage’ may have helped you perform the spell correctly, but it could not create stamina your body did not possess. I advise against using it for spells you cannot already perform without it.”

Chance, however, was no longer smiling. “Luna, you said another… have I been asleep… is the contest over?”

The Alicorn didn’t scold her, didn’t shout or question her priorities. “I’m afraid so, young ponies.”

“Aww.” Apple Bloom glared down at her hooves. “I never even got ta’ see it all work.”

Chance shared Apple Bloom’s dissatisfaction, though for very different reasons. “The damage we caused… I bet it was pretty expensive.”

Twilight nodded, her expression matter-of-fact. “You’re really burning through my damage security. I should probably think of making some new investments soon.”

Princess Luna turned away from the two of them “No need, Princess Twilight. What happened here qualifies as a foreign attack on Equestrian soil. There are funds in every city for such occasions, untapped for hundreds of years.”

“Actually… I was thinking we could pay them back.” Chance sat up straight in bed, willing her hooves to move. They were still stiff, but getting better by the moment. “That is… if you think they’d take payment in aluminum.”


* * * 


Second Chance was surprised and thrilled to see the chemical plant had left their lab untouched since Apple Bloom had left it. Granted, she wasn’t nearly as surprised about that as she was to see Apple Bloom now had her cutie mark.

Apple Bloom was as surprised to learn about that as Chance had been. It’d been later that night, when Apple Bloom got up to use the tiny restroom connected to their shared hospital room. She heard the filly’s sudden screaming, startling her from the book she’d been reading. She let it fall to the ground and sprinted into the bathroom, terrified of what she might find. There were no vague invisible demons waiting inside, or even visible demons. Only Apple Bloom, the hospital gown hanging from a hook and her eyes fixed on the mirror.

Instead of blank coat, her flank now had an apple-shaped gear and a silver wrench, bright against the yellow. Apple Bloom’s screaming hadn’t been terrified at all, it’d been ecstatic. “I can’t believe it Chance can you believe it there it is look my very own cutie mark!”

She embraced her friend, nodding enthusiastically. “I guess you didn’t know this was here?”

Apple Bloom took a moment to recover her voice, her mouth moving but no sound escaping. “This is amazing!” She spun, taking in the mark from every possible angle. “The Crusaders will be so happy for me!” She froze, her face falling. “I guess… I guess I’m not a Crusader anymore. I hope they don’t kick me out of the tree house.”

Chance rolled her eyes. “Did you kick me out?”

“Oh yeah.” Her smile returned. “I wish I’d noticed at the time. I guess it must not feel like much’a anythin’.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t feel it either. Discord made sure I’d be unconscious through the whole thing.

Apple Bloom seemed to barely hear her. “What do ya’ reckon it’s for?”

“Engineering?” Chance inspected the mark, then glanced out the open door. “That exoskeleton thing you made was pretty amazing, maybe even cutie mark amazing. How’d you do that so fast?”

She shrugged in response. “I’d seen designs that looked mighty similar on yer tablet thing. At first I didn’t know how teh’ get out, like I might not get to ‘yah in time. But then I started really thinkin’ about it, and suddenly I knew. It wasn’t really building. I already knew what I had to make, I just had to figure out how to get all the pieces out of what we had in the lab. Guess I… messed it up pretty good though, huh?”

“I guess that must be what your cutie mark is.” 

“I guess you’re right.” Apple Bloom looked away, looking a little embarrassed. “Uh… could you leave, Chance? I wasn’t finished.”

“Oh.” Chance shut the door on her way out, tugging it shut with a faint burst of magic. It felt good to be able to do that again; a severed limb returned at last.

It took them much of the next day to repair their lab enough to begin the refining process at last. Apple Bloom had been Chance’s equal as they set everything up the first time. The second time, Chance felt like she’d been asked to do all her work drunk and blindfolded with as fast as her friend burned through everything. It was like watching some sort of magical wind for as fast as her hooves moved, making precision adjustments on machines she had never even seen before this week without a mistake in sight.

After the first hour, Chance relegated herself to refreshment duty, interjecting instructions but not actually trying to do any of it. Their audience from the days of the contest had shrunk down to just Twilight, who refused to let Chance wander out of her sight. As guilty as Second Chance felt to be pulling Twilight away from her home and her friends for an extra day, she felt greatly relieved that the Alicorn cared enough about her safety to stay with her. The death of two apparently immortal changeling drones was unlikely to dissuade kidnappers if they decided to return. An Alicorn princess, on the other hand…

Needless to say, there was no sign of any sort of danger during their day of work. By evening, the laboratory was hot with the glow of the electric furnace. Chance kept the tablet propped up against the wall, walking them through each of the steps of the process. As it turned out, earth ponies were more resistant to heat than unicorns, but Chance could still monitor the pressure and adjust the power on the burner while Apple Bloom poured and moved insulated metal pots from behind heat shields and mouth protection she probably didn’t need.

It was late in the evening before they had managed to complete the Bayer process, changing the huge tray of red powder into a huge tray of red mud and a smaller container of dry white powder. Apple Bloom poured the mixture into a bath of molten cryolite. Together they lowered the electrodes, and the final stage began.

“Are you sure this is going to revolutionize metal, Chance? I don’t mean to criticize, but it looks like you ponies have been working really hard.”

Chance was panting, though at Twilight’s words she tried to correct her breathing as quickly as she could. “I’m sure, twilight. This is just a lab, small enough for fillies to do the work. Purpose-built machines could process thousands of tons an hour. Like a metal assembly line. Or… okay, we might need to use strong earth ponies instead of robots, but it would be mostly the same idea.”

“If you say so.” Twilight didn’t seem nearly as bothered by the temperatures as Chance felt, and she could inspect the boiling vat without even the protection of a heat shield. “This feels like a waste of electricity. Just running it through the vat without powering anything. Would it still work if we switched off the power?”

“No!” The vat, bubbling with a good eighty pounds of molten metal, poured a series of near-constant bubbles from the carbon electrode, only to be sucked away by the vent. Good thing too, or they’d all be suffocating by now. “You can’t have electrolysis without electro.” She waved her hooves vaguely in the air. “Trust me. We need it.” Pause. “We still good on temperature, Apple Bloom?”

Her friend nodded eagerly from behind safety glasses. “Holding steady at 1000 degrees! How much longer do you think it will take?”

Chance answered by levitating over the vacuum apparatus with its short metal tube. She lowered it carefully into the molten metal, then filled the tiny crucible with metal collecting on the bottom of the container. “Get the mold!” Her friend did, a rectangular mold resting inside a larger container already filled with water. Chance turned the crucible sideways in her gray magic, careful not to splash any of the searing material.

The crucible would recover a total of 4 bars of shiny, pure metal. One went to the hotel, one to the chemical plant whose lab they had borrowed (along with the machines they’d modified and all their non-digital notes), which left one for each of the fillies. In exchange for a single sleepless night, they’d both become very, very rich.

> Epilogue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

In many ways Second Chance's return to Ponyville was completely predictable. Despite the fact that neither she nor Twilight had made any mention of the day they would be returning, Pinkie Pie had either managed to obtain restricted information or kept a surprise party on standby.

But before all of that was a trip from the train station up to Sweet Apple Acres, to return Apple Bloom to her family. Chance couldn’t help but giggle at the way Apple Bloom had taken specific care that no trace of fabric hung down from her saddlebags to obscure her cutie mark. She was more surprised by the number of ponies they passed who complimented her on it.

“I guess ponies really did notice all the crusading you’ve been doing,” she remarked.

Apple Bloom just beamed in response. Word had gotten back to her family that something had happened during the contest, because they were all there waiting for her by the gate. They weren’t the only ones: Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo were there too, pacing nervously back and forth.

If anything, their reactions to Apple Bloom’s new cutie mark were even more extreme than anything Apple Bloom herself had done. Chance had never heard so many excited squeals in such a short time. Thank goodness her hearing had adjusted up when she’d become a pony, or else all that high-pitched sound probably would’ve hurt. It was hard not to share in the excitement, knowing what she did about just how long they had been working for their cutie marks.

When all that was done, Chance removed a hefty pouch from her own saddlebags, tossing it onto the ground at the Crusaders’ hooves.

“What’s that?” Sweetie Belle asked, poking the pouch with one hoof.

“Money. We earned some in the contest. The Apples need what Apple Bloom earned, but Twilight won’t let me give her what I made.” She tilted the bag upside-down with her magic, uncinching the drawstring. A dozen platinum coins tumbled onto the dirt. They were, of course, the same shape and size as bits, though they were several orders of magnitude more valuable.

“We’re gonna give two of those to Miss Cheerilee,” Apple Bloom supplied, separating two from the pile. “For the school. The rest… we’ll make a crusadin’ fund for you two. That way, we can try out the ideas that were too expensive before.”

Scootaloo chose that moment to leap into the air, wings fluttering wildly. She didn’t stay airborne for more than a few seconds, though that was several seconds longer than Chance or Apple Bloom would’ve. “See! I told you they’d help us figure it out!”

Sweetie Belle’s eyes narrowed. “Figure it out? They just brought a buncha money! That’s not the same thing!”

Scootaloo was unperturbed. “It’s the same in every way that matters!” She looked at the coins, counting in her head. “10,000 bits! That’s way more than they wanted!”

Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes. “Of all days, you had to pick today.”

“What?” Apple Bloom asked, genuinely confused.

“Scootaloo’s been obsessing about buying an airship since you left.”

“Or building one!” the little pegasus insisted, her wings buzzing. “It wouldn’t have been that hard! This will just be easier! I already know where we can get one!”

“We’ll talk about it.” Chance wasn’t sure what she thought about using their money on an airship. It would be useful, not to mention it might help Scootaloo at least with her mark. 

There was, after all, a surprise party to get to.

Of the three in her little family, only Spike was surprised, though without a word on the subject an agreement had been struck that they would act like they had been and profess (honestly) that not a soul had said anything to them about the party waiting for them in the library. 

Besides, the Crusaders were the only friends she was happy to meet again. Ponies seemed to have different rules about parties than humans did, because there were plenty of adults in attendance that she knew and there was nothing strange about that here.

Chance kept her eyes alert for an opportunity to have a private conversation with one of those guests, a mint mare who had been providing quiet music during the party but was clearly here to enjoy herself. On the pretext of making a request, Chance hurried up to her when she had finished a set of lively tunes and grinned up at her. “Hey, Lyra,” she said, a little less shyly than the first time they had met. “How’d your big meeting go with the Precursor Society?”

The mare beamed. “They thought it was brilliant! Revolutionary new ideas!” She looked away.  “I may’ve accidentally let it slip that I have some kind of new source. I’ve already got several requests to meet and talk about it.”

Chance would’ve preferred Lyra say just about anything else, since if she was telling the truth it meant Chance herself had been volunteered to further involve herself with eccentric, human-seeking ponies. Maybe it was her civic duty. It wasn’t as though there were any other human representatives in Equestria to correct the numerous misconceptions ponies had about their kind. Political first contact would probably be easier if there was already a place for them waiting in the culture 

“Well, there was something I wanted to give you.” Chance didn’t dare teleport ponies again, let alone taking passengers several blocks across a city. But something small, and a very short distance, that much was well within her abilities now that she had the Nanophage to do all the calculations. It was exciting to use any excuse to do magic.

It was fine, so long as the objects in question didn’t mind coming through extra-universal space a little differently than they entered. In this particular case the pop of magic brought a roughly hoof-sized flat disk. As she watched, an apparently low temperature caused moisture from the air to condense and freeze along its surface. 

Chance didn’t mind that, and she scraped the thin layer of ice away with her magic before passing the round object to Lyra. “I had this made for you. Maybe it’s a little selfish, since I like hearing my own music played live.” She took a step closer to the musician sitting strangely against the wall, lowering her own voice in kind. “It’s a playback device. The suction cup has to be attached to a flat surface, like a table or a wall. When you do that, it will project a display to choose the music you want it to play. A hoof is too big, but you can levitate a quill or something to pick what you want it to do… and if it stops working, just leave the black side in direct sunlight for a day or two.”

Chance had never seen a happier expression on anypony’s face, not in her entire time in Equestria. Though she was clearly confused by Chance’s explanation of the simple machine, that didn’t stop her from giving Chance a quick hug. “Thank you!” she exclaimed, practically at the edge of tears. She did so loudly enough that several ponies who had been disinterested in them before suddenly turned to stare. There was even less recognition in their eyes: Chance knew well there was no danger of anypony identifying the device she had given to Lyra as anything interesting unless they already knew what to look for. A thin disk with a suction cup on one side and some strange holes would mean nothing to the ponies here. Lyra continued in a whisper, “I promise to be worthy of your trust, hono-”

Chance forced her mouth closed with a hoof, so she couldn’t continue. “Don’t. It’s a gift from a friend, and not even a big one. It plays music, Lyra. Not all our music, but… lots of the classics, plus some of the more modern stuff that I think you’ll like. Be careful with the volume… It can make more noise than a live band if you have it on a big enough surface.” She suddenly regretted not limiting the playback volume in the settings, her mind flashing briefly to an image of Lyra filling Ponyville with a blaring rendition of AC/DC’s “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap.”

Shaking her head to dismiss that thought, she went on. “Just be smart, okay? Don’t show anypony else… but you can feel free to adapt the music. That’s why I’m giving it to you, because I think the Precursors made some great music and I don’t see any problem with sharing it.”

And so the party went on, with more or less everything she could've expected from such an occasion. Pinkie Pie had provided all her favorite treats, and absolutely everyone she cared about in Ponyville was there. Even if the attention made her a little uncomfortable, it was an established universal law that nopony could attend one of Pinkie Pie's parties without having fun.

But even the best parties had to end, and her "Welcome Home to Ponyville" party was no exception. Eventually the guests had all gone home, and only Twilight and a few of her friends were left to clean the library of its remains. Chance had tried to help, but had been told quite firmly that since the party was for her, she was not allowed to help clean it up.

But she didn't feel like sleeping, not with as much sugar as she had ingested. Instead, Second Chance took Twilight's tablet computer up to the balcony, and occupied herself for a few minutes configuring its projection and laser-tracking sensors.

True there was no Herschel up there, but she didn't mind. It wasn't as though Second Chance wanted to make any new discoveries. Rather, she just wanted to see if there was anything familiar.

The summer air was cool on her coat, though not enough to chill her. The moon was full, and between that and the glow of the tablet's little projector, she felt more than comfortable. Besides, the tablet had the added advantage of having access to familiar music. At least, the music Truth had seen fit to share with Twilight Sparkle.

Given the spectacular cloudless night, Second Chance settled on a mournful rendition of Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 14, which played quietly in the background as she connected a simple motion sensor to Twilight's telescope and patched it into the basic astronomy program contained in the tablet. She was lucky there was already software for this very operation, or else she probably would've had to be content with the recorded images stored within the computer.

Eventually she had the program configured, and with a camera shoved into the eyepiece of Twilight’s telescope, she could project what it saw to a size big enough to fill the rear wall with her tablet. It was a peaceful way to end her first day back in Ponyville, though the combination of the music and such a familiar activity from her human life left her feeling a little melancholic.

She was scanning the familiar Serpens constellation for signs of the Eagle Nebula when she heard hoofsteps on the deck behind her, which was a little surprising since she hadn't heard the door open or the familiar pop of air characteristic of Twilight's teleports. "Enjoying the night, Second Chance?" The voice was quite familiar to her, and it caused her to immediately look down, expecting to see the familiar lunar soil beneath her that was a sign she had dozed off. No doubt she had fallen asleep at the telescope. Yet she saw only Twilight's deck. Beyond that, she actually felt the tiredness growing at the edges of her perceptions, something she never felt when she was dreaming.

She turned around, and offered a weak smile to her nighttime visitor. As she had already known, the newcomer was Luna, Princess of the Night. "You missed the party.”

"Royal duties.” She looked down sadly. “I’m fairly certain there’s a law somewhere specifically forbidding any of Equestria’s ruling family to do anything fun.” She advanced through the field of projection and sat on her haunches beside Chance. "Some news demands a personal visit." She paused, listening as the music transitioned from the third movement back to the first as the song repeated, and the mournful sonata began again.

"News?" Chance raised an eyebrow, before looking back to the telescope. Now that the princess was here, she was determined to locate what she was searching for. 

"Your projection is beautiful."

"It's real." She made a few more adjustments to the telescope before turning her attention on the multicolored cloud of gas, spectacular ambers and yellows and reds against a background of green and blue. "Your telescopes just haven't found it yet. My people call it the Eagle Nebula." She paused briefly, thinking. “How does the Nanophage have a program to help with unicorn magic?”

Luna’s expression grew sadder. “It does not. The ‘program’ as you call it was written to aid Alicorn magic. Our natural immune systems reject the particles just as with true sickness. A shame.”

“When? Truth’s systems were heavily damaged upon arrival. It probably lost its ability to generate its own power thousands of years ago.”

“Tens of thousands,” Luna agreed. “It arrived during far brighter days, Second Chance. Before the ponies of the lesser tribes gave it a name, mine knew it. Before the intelligence within was destroyed. The mind within was not destroyed on its arrival, as you believed. It was destroyed in the same war that claimed our civilization and left Equus torn from its proper orbit.”

Luna rose to her hooves to inspect the image the tablet was projecting. "I see the resemblance. A fitting name. Pity ponies had no instruments like thine a millennia ago. If they had, I imagine they would have appreciated the night better." She shook her head. "I did come for a purpose, Second Chance. I have yet to deliver the news I brought."

She nodded. "Right, you said something about news. What was it?"

"Congratulations," Luna offered, with a slight inclination of her head. "You passed."

"I..." Chance repeated, her tone growing more confused, "passed what?"

"The moment thou arrived in Equestria, thou hast been observed. We wished to learn from thee what sort of folk thy kin would be. We wished to know if we could trust them in Equestria one day, when they inevitably arrived with their promises."

"And I... passed?" Chance frowned. "You're saying you judged the whole human race based on me?" She shook her head vigorously. "I'm not the best example, Luna. There are way better humans than me. More characteristic examples."

"Perhaps, and perhaps not. Yet, a decision was reached. Twilight Sparkle was the pony primarily assigned to the task, and she has responded in the affirmative. The evaluation is over, and we agree there might be potential for a relationship between our peoples. It shall take time to prepare the spells Celestia and I considered for that encounter, yet that used upon thee when thou arrived provides an excellent template." Chance didn't get an opportunity to reply, to ask the battery of questions that Luna's strange remarks had brought. Luna, it seemed, was not in the mood for those sorts of questions just now. Instead, she glanced at the telescope again. "Are there yet more wonders this machine can display? We would love to get a better look at the unseen majesty of the night."

She nodded. "I can think of a few. I bet you've never got a good look at star formation before..." Chance went to work, adjusting the telescope to point towards the Large Magellanic Cloud. “Remember a few days ago, when you came to visit us in the hospital?”

Luna nodded.

“When I first woke up, Apple Bloom thought… thought that you’d come to take her away. I’ve been thinking about it, and I don’t think she expected you to take her back to Ponyville.” Chance took a breath, steeling herself for what she knew she’d have to ask now. “Is that one of the things you do? Take ponies away when they die?”

Luna was silent for a long time, watching the projection as Chance adjusted the telescope and zoomed towards the tiny patch of sky that guided star formation. Chance refused to say anything else, waiting on the Alicorn to answer. Eventually she did. “Your friend is not the only pony to believe I have a special connection with the dead. Even before my banishment, plenty of ponies suspected I might be the pale mare.”

Chance hadn’t heard the term before, but she didn’t really need to have to guess at who it was supposed to be. “Are you?” It seemed just about impossible to believe, but… plenty of other things about Equestria were impossible to believe. If a world could have celestial bodies and seasons controlled by the will of ponies, why not life and death?

“What do you think?”

She considered her response for a time. “I think… it would have been hard to collect souls if you were on the moon… and if you could’ve come back here to do that, you would’ve stayed back.”

Luna only laughed in response. “You Builders are all realists. No poetry.”

Chance chuckled, though her eyes remained on Luna. “Is… Did you ever see my parents? You think there might be room for them in pony heaven somewhere?” Tears streamed down her eyes, and her magical grip on the telescope faltered, blurring the projected image into nothingness.

Chance felt something heavy resting on her back, and looked up to see Princess Luna embracing her. “If they’re anything like you, Second Chance, I have no doubt of it.”

“But you don’t know?”

Luna didn’t answer for a very long time. Chance had never seen so sad a look on a pony’s face, not in the whole of her months in Equestria. “Only the dead know such things, Second Chance. Like my sister, like Discord and perhaps your guardian here, I may never know. This is the price of immortality. If you wish to see them again, I advise you avoid it.”


* * *


Chance was proud she didn't fall asleep on the balcony. Granted, if she hadn't been able to instruct her implants to keep her awake, she probably would've. She passed Spike on her way in, and waved vaguely at him. “Is Twilight done down there?”

Spike stretched his claws one at a time, groaning. “My wrists are sore enough to say yes.” He flopped into his basket, pulling a blanket over himself as he went.

“I'm sorry.” She lowered her head, biting back the guilt. “I tried to help, Spike. I'll make it up to you tomorrow somehow, promise.” 

“Sure, Chance.” He yawned. “Sure.” He was asleep before she could say anything else.

She continued down the stairs, and found Twilight Sparkle going over the floor with a broom. “Hey Twilight.” She sat down at the base of the stairs, so she wouldn't get in the way of her sweeping. “You sure you don't want help?”

As always, Twilight barely seemed to be glancing at what she was doing with her magic. Chance wondered if she had been that way even before becoming an Alicorn. “Don't worry about it.” She smiled. “I already had Spike go over it once. I just wanted to make sure he hadn't missed anything.”

“Oh.” She was quiet for a few moments, just watching the broom as Twilight levitated it along. “Princess Luna left. Important princess things to do I guess.”

Twilight froze, looking shocked. “Luna? I didn't know she was here.”

Chance shrugged. “She came to tell me something.” Chance rose to her hooves, taking a step closer. “How were those books I left for you?”

Twilight nodded in comprehension, and set the broom down. “Truth showed me where you came from.” In lavender eyes, Chance could see her own cutie mark reflected. Was it the electric lanterns that made it look like the surface was burning?

Chance shivered and looked away. “What did you see?”

“You.”

Chance bowed, her vision blurring with tears. “Thanks.” She felt the familiar fuzz of magic scooping her up, and the familiar hooves. She really needed to find a new hobby. Maybe airship building.

“Do you think... do you think you'll stay, Chance? When it's all over? After we've saved them?”

We.

“Yeah.” She dried her eyes on one of her forelegs. “I think I will.” She took a breath. “I... it's been a long time since I've had a mom.”


* * *


At that exact moment, a filly that looked exactly like Second Chance slunk beside her mother in the darkness. There were no streetlights in that remote village, and guards were too few to patrol the streets at night. Indeed, aside from the green unicorn filly and her brownish earth pony mother, there was no trace of activity in the light of dark evening. Perhaps in such a remote part of Equestria, so late at night and with no friendly witnesses about, a single young mare might have shown more caution when traveling alone.

Not this one, though. Anypony who tried anything with her would’ve been lucky to escape with their life. She didn’t slow in her travel, leading the somewhat clumsy duplicate of Second Chance with barely contained impatience. No words passed between them, at least, not vocally. The filly heard her mother’s voice in her mind quite clearly. We must not linger; we speak with one neither kind nor merciful.

The filly had no true name of her own, only the name she had stolen along with the memories. She didn’t have to reach back to the forbidden memories to know how to speak silently; that was one of the few pieces of knowledge old enough to come from her true self. Then why are we visiting him? We could always make friends with somepony nicer instead. Everything had changed since she had stolen the body and memories of the filly Second Chance. Even her voice sounded different.

Her mother’s reply came with a harsh flash from suddenly glowing eyes. He is no friend, daughter. He isn’t even an ally. He’s the enemy of our enemies.

Which makes him our friend?

No. Her mother’s voice was harsh, though it could’ve been more angry. Not as you know the word. He has no love for us, and would not hesitate to sacrifice us if he thought it would benefit him. He is a predator, like us. We must not present him with weakness, or he will turn on us.

She nodded. But… aren’t I weak? I’m not full grown yet, and I’ve never gone out with you before. Maybe you should’ve gone without me. I wouldn’t want to be the reason we failed.

The mare touched her daughter briefly, expression softening. Don’t be afraid, daughter. Let me be concerned for that. Leadership often involves taking the greatest risk personally, if risk is what will secure your goals the greatest chance of success.

The filly said nothing to that, merely absorbing the wisdom her mother always had to offer. Granted, there was plenty of other wisdom in her mind now, from sources stranger than anything even her mother might’ve suggested. The thought of “mother” brought three images now, not one. A soft, pink primate with long hair and kindness but not quite the level of intellect to understand her, a violet mare whose intelligence and power had frightened her, but also given her great comfort, and the black insect whose love ran all the way to her soul, and came with the ruthlessness to commit any act that might lead to victory.

It frightened her how much her mother’s words seemed to agree with her vast wealth of new, alien knowledge. Be extremely subtle, even to the point of formlessness. Be extremely mysterious, even to the point of soundlessness. Thereby you can be the director of the opponent’s fate.

Two thirds of what the nameless filly now knew seemed to be in agreement. Only the pony portion of her memories disagreed. What her true mother had taught formed one extreme, and the mercy and weakness of the ponies stood at the other. The aliens existed somewhere in the middle. There is no instance of a country having benefited from prolonged warfare. So spoke that strange knowledge within her mind.

The nameless filly occupied herself almost constantly with considerations of her new knowledge. How any being could be vast enough to contain it all baffled and frightened her both. She had to fight Kimberly Colven? A woman whose will had been so mighty that eons in the void had not broken her the way it had destroyed the other who came from her world. 

Of course, what scared her most was that Kimberly Colven, or Second Chance, or whoever she was, fought for the exact same reasons that she and her true mother fought. She wanted to protect her people, a people that hid starving beneath the ground and whose culture had been driven to near collapse by foolish war. 

The nameless filly knew Second Chance as the pony could not possibly know herself; she had seen her entire life with the objectivity of an outsider. She knew what the unicorn could not possibly know; that she would sacrifice anything if she thought it was needed to preserve her people. No trial could dissuade her, no threat would daunt her into submission. That was what had kept her sane in the void between worlds.

Was the nameless filly glad her mother had sensed the death of her servants, and she had been spared taking the place of Kimberly so soon? Yes. Did she think it was worth the trade of having such a tenacious enemy at large? That was much harder to say.

Of course, not having to go on assignment almost the moment after she was born was no small luxury in itself. She would never say so to her mother of course; that would be a sign of weakness a future queen could not afford. But why was it her fault if she enjoyed spending time with her family? If the filly whose identity she had stolen had such an opportunity to spend time with her birth mother, she would’ve jumped at it. Doing so in her place felt like giving the proper respect to an enemy.

Or something. It was a pretty vague feeling.

Their destination, as it turned out, was a cave not far from the village, though its position in a thick patch of decidedly spooky woods probably was enough to persuade the weak-hearted ponies from stumbling into it accidentally. Whoever they had come to visit obviously did not fear visitors, because they had lit up a fairly sizable fire near the entrance, large enough to keep any insects from getting close as well as roast whatever creature they had killed on a spit over the fire.

She couldn’t have said what sort of being it was, only that it had once had four hooves and been larger than the average pony. The head had been removed before roasting, and the whole thing was covered in a thin layer of crispy blackness. She felt a shiver of revulsion pass through her mother, and she couldn’t help but echo it from all three of her perspectives. Meat alone was enough to sicken the pony, while the alien was revolted something had been killed for the meat. The changeling saw the whole thing as some barbaric imitation of what a real predator did. Ponies were prey, but you could only eat them this way once. Properly cultivated, a pony could provide love for years. 

“Good, you’re here.” An elderly-sounding voice spoke from deep within the cave. “I was beginning to fear you had met some misfortune on the way.”

She followed her mother into the cave, and was struck by the other signs of prolonged habitation. The ground was carpeted with thick furry hides, and a variety of primitive weapons and tools hung from racks pounded into the stone of the mountain itself.

“Only in your fantasies is there misfortune to challenge me, Tirek.” Her mother’s illusion melted away in a flash of intense blue fire, leaving behind the lithe, proud form of the Queen of all Changelings. 

Her nameless daughter imitated her, though she could not change so quickly. A nymph wasn’t nearly as frightening as an adult queen in any case; her fangs were short and her wings too weak to lift her for long. Her carapace was so new it hadn’t fully hardened yet. She hoped this being called Tirek would not notice.

Tirek answered with a harsh, grating laugh. A shadow stirred in the darkness of the cave, a thin body shifting on a sleeping mat of more hides. “Is that so? I hear a weak pony creature thwarted your so called ‘invasion’.”

She felt her mother’s furious anger without having to look up and see her snarl. She echoed the feeling, baring her teeth and spreading her legs in what she assumed was a fighting stance. If a fight was coming, then she would help!

“Celestia’s apprentice, not just anypony.” Her tone turned cold. “At least I was defeated by an enemy, not betrayed by my own brother.” She gestured towards the young queen. “See how loyal my family is?” 

An angry growl bubbled from the end of the cave. She forced herself not to flinch, drawing on her mother’s anger for strength. A figure stepped into the firelight. It was feeble and thin, like the most emaciated changeling she had ever seen. Worse. It looked like no living thing she knew; his lower body like a pony but the upper almost like the aliens. Kimberly would have called him a centaur. Perhaps one of those who guarded the circle of the Inferno where the violent spent their eternities.

He had emotions, or an emotion. Tirek could not mask his feelings as her mother could; hatred radiated from him in waves, hatred tempered by an eternity. Behind feeble discipline was a rage almost too intense for a rational mind to contain. He might be thin, but still he towered over the two of them. Could they win in open combat with such a monster?

Tirek reached out… then past them, rotating the unfortunate on the spit another turn, before returning to a sitting position. “Perhaps we all have our advantages and our weaknesses. Yet I was surprised you wanted to meet with me. I thought you had already sold yourself to another.”

Chrysalis bared her fangs again, though she relaxed even as Tirek had done. “I am sold to nopony, regardless of what He might claim. If an arrangement brings swifter results, then I will not need him.”

“And why do you think I would need you?”

“Because you’re intelligent enough not to think you can subdue a nation on your own.” He laughed, but Chrysalis wasn’t done. “Even if you could, you have nothing to lose and everything to gain by agreeing to an alliance.”

“Explain.”

She did. Once she had laid the plan out in detail, she continued. “We want different things, Tirek. You want their magic, the swarm has no need of it. You want to rule?” She shrugged. “The swarm is rulership enough for me. We ask only the right to their love, something you neither desire nor need. In exchange, you shall have all I’ve promised.”

Tirek considered, then nodded. “I think we have a deal.”


* * *


“Are you sure you need me, Sweetie Belle?” Chance shifted uncomfortably in the stiff fabric of the uniform, rocking between her hooves. “I don’t have the same talent for this stuff you do.”

Sweetie Belle looked much more comfortable wearing her Jr. Ponytones uniform than Chance felt. “While you and Apple Bloom were gone, I had to take Scootaloo. We sounded like a box of cats rolling down a hill.” She leaned closer to her friend, eyes widening. “C’mon, Chance! You don’t have to be great. We just need somepony who can actually carry a tune.”

Chance stared down at the green fabric, adjusting the tie beneath her hooves. “I guess that makes sense.” Chance didn’t exactly enjoy singing, not like Sweetie Belle did. That said, she did understand what Truth had explained about the likelihood that her friend would find her cutie mark doing anything besides singing, and the chances weren’t good. Somehow she doubted forcing her to sing with Scootaloo was likely to produce results.

Were they likely to check off another cutie mark after just one practice? Probably not. But after all the excitement of the Equestrian Innovators Conference, Chance could appreciate an opportunity to do something routine.

“Just as long as it doesn't take too long. Twilight thinks I’ve got to make up for all the magic-practice I missed now that I can do it again. I’m sure she’ll have like a hundred different assignments waiting for me.”

“Eugh.” Her friend shook her head in disgust. “No thank you. Magic’s great and all, but I dunno why Twilight wants you to be such an expert. You aren’t trying to be a wizard, right?”

She shook her head. “I guess not. But I am trying to be her apprentice. Like, if you wanted to work for your sister, I bet she’d make you work on dresses until you were sick of them too.”

“Maybe.” She groaned. “That’d be the worst. Having to compare what I made to her stuff all the time? I’d feel like the clumsiest pony in Equestria every time I picked up a needle.”

Chance had to resist telling her friend that she probably was one of the clumsiest ponies in Equestria, or at the very least in Ponyville. So instead she said, “kinda like singing next to you is gonna be.”

That elicited a smile from her friend, though not a terribly large one. “Yeah, well… it’s a good thing you’re such a mature pony that you’re not bothered by stuff like that, huh? Got that neat cutie mark and everything… practically an adult! Pretty soon you’ll be dropping out of school, apprenticing full time, chasing after colts…”

Chance shoved her sideways with her shoulder. It was enough to send the filly stumbling, though fortunately for her crisp new uniform she didn’t actually fall. “I wouldn’t count on it. I’ve told you before, I’m really older than this. More mature.” She nodded emphatically. “I’ve already been through that once before. Colts weren’t more interesting than my work the first time, and they aren’t going to be the second time. If anything, it’ll be easier.” 

She allowed herself a grin. “You’re the one who should be worried. Give it a few years, and you’ll be swooning over anypony on the cover of a fashion magazine and fantasizing about your prince charming just like your big sister.”

Sweetie Belle glared back at her for a second, and Chance half-expected some sort of angry, defensive retort. Instead, the filly just shrugged and resumed walking. “Maybe. I’ll take things as they come.” She looked away, towards the sky. “You really think buying that airship is going to help Scootaloo get her cutie mark?”

Chance glanced around to be sure nopony was close enough to hear, then spoke in a hushed voice. “When you were talking to Truth, he scanned all three of you… like a medical spell, but better. Something’s wrong with Scootaloo’s wings. Maybe if we get the Nanophage in her soon enough she might be able to fly one day, but she’ll never be very good without some major surgery. I figure… I figure an airship’s the next best thing.”

She returned to her normal speaking voice. “Not to mention it’ll be really fun to repair, and it’ll be our free ticket anywhere in Equestria when we’re… old enough to be allowed. We could go exploring with it, or you could use it to go on some sort of singing-tour, or…” she ended with a shrug. “Who knows? Unless you can think of something better to do with all that money.”

Sweetie Belle clearly thought about that for a moment, but in the end she just shook her head. “Guess I’m just worried that I’ll be the last one without my cutie mark. You’ve got yours, now Apple Bloom. If Scootaloo gets hers with an airship, then I’ll be the only blank flank left. Well, Babs Seed too I guess, but she’s almost never in town.”

Chance reached out, embracing her friend right there on the streets of Ponyville. “Even if that does happen, we’ll still be your friends. If we have to be there to try every single cutie mark, we will.” She broke away, grinning. “Don’t think we won’t, either. Truth already had to make a list of every single one to make predictions.”

“Really?” Sweetie’s expression brightened. “That actually sounds like a really neat idea! Do you think you could make a copy of the list for me?”

She shrugged. “I’ll have to make you a tablet first… it’d take way too much paper to print it all. Truth said there were just over a billion different marks… for now. The possibilities increase by an order of magnitude once you modernize. Once ponies start advancing at the same speed humans do, population growth should never be able to keep pace with the growth of new marks.

“Oh.” Sweetie Belle’s ears drooped, her tail sagging. “I guess we should just stick to singing then, huh?”

“Probably for the best. The list can be our solid plan B.” They weren’t far from the park, and as they rounded the bend, Chance could make out the Ponytones as they gathered to practice. In addition to a few of Twilight’s friends and their relatives, she could make out a little gathering of fillies and colts of the newly founded Jr. Ponytones that made up the group she was about to join. She knew them by sight at least; a gray unicorn filly with a yellowish mane, and a pair of colts, both earth ponies, one brown and the other white with brown spots. All wore their uniforms, and watched as she and Sweetie Belle made their approach.

Was she imagining it, or was that relief on their faces. “Oh, good,” said the brown colt, looking Chance up and down. “You found somepony else.” His voice had an almost falsetto squeak to it. He narrowed his eyes. “You’re better than the pegasus, right?”

She shrugged. “I’ve got different talents than Scootaloo, if that’s what you mean.”

Sweetie Belle cut her off. “She is, don’t worry. Why don’t you make yourself useful, Button, and get another copy of the alto part for her.”

He grumbled, but trotted off towards the adults anyway.

“Don’t worry about Button.” The pinto colt extended a hoof with a friendly smile and more than a slight accent. “Pipsqueak. I sit up on the second row.”

“Second Chance.” She mirrored the gesture, though in truth she still didn’t fully understand the point or procedure for a hoof-shake. Was she blushing? No, it was just the glare in her eyes making her face feel hot. “Thanks for letting me come. I’ll try not to slow anypony down too much.”

“You won’t.” The mare offered her hoof too, along with an innocent grin. “Dinky Doo. We’re not very serious. Not like the real Ponytones. We don’t even perform.”

“We don’t even perform yet,” Sweetie Belle corrected. “We just need a little more practice is all! Now that we’ve got some more talent, we’re a shoo-in at the next Hearth’s Warming Pageant!”

That was when the other colt returned, offering a folder in his mouth towards Chance. She took it in her magic, opening it up and flipping through the pages. She wondered idly why ponies used the exact same system for representing music that humans did. She might have trouble reading any of it otherwise.

It didn’t matter. Sweetie Belle had been right; it was fun.


* * *

A universe away, a good king rested on a balcony with an old hardcover book in his hands, reading beneath the light of the setting sun. Of course there was little reason left to read this way, little reason that anyone should be restricted to such sluggish information exchange in the modern day. Perhaps he was just sentimental, for the days when human beings had been confined to symbols scrawled on pressed and dried plant or animal tissue. This volume had a little of both, with a cover of genuine leather that had survived the harsh conditions that had followed Earth's nuclear holocaust remarkably well.

"My King," came a voice from behind him, a voice he had become more and more accustomed to hearing in person ever since the Steel Tower had been sharing the Federation's advances in extra-universal travel. "My report, as you requested."


Richard lifted a hand and gestured for Tesla to sit down, before glancing back down to the book and reading where his other hand had been resting. 

"While civilization has been improving our houses, it has not equally improved the men who are to inhabit them. It has created palaces, but it was not so easy to create noblemen and kings." Then he looked up, resting the book gently beside him on the bench. "Am I a good king, Tesla?" From the highest balcony of the Steel Tower the view stretched far and wide, a view of rusting metal transforming into the structures of a makeshift city. There was motion in the dark, though stark little of it. Despite the ease and efficiency of fusion power much of his people still relied on solar power, and that remained difficult to store through the cold nights. As such there would soon be very little in the way of activity to see below, not until the sun came again. "Could I have done better for mankind?"

Tesla hesitated, and was clearly not eager to answer the question. "Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown," he eventually replied. "Only history can judge kings. But because of you, there will be a history to judge. Future historians should have the respect to see you did everything you could."

Richard was silent as he watched the lights come on, tapping on the cover of his book with simulated fingers. "Perhaps, Tesla. One can hope." He glanced sidelong at him, however briefly. "What of your report?"

"Favorable," Tesla replied, proudly. "Brigid discovered a vein of rich metal deposits in a thickly wooded area a few dozen miles from the entry point. There is no sign the local population travels there, and the animals have left the drones alone. At the current rate of replication, we should establish our first microfusion plant within five years. Once we do, it will only be a matter of months before we can generate the power necessary to stabilize the Rift from that end."

Richard imagined hundreds of autonomous drones hard at work in a patch of dense woodland, noisy with the sound of industry far from any ears who might know what those sounds meant. They would dig deep beneath the earth, establishing mines and pipelines and waste disposal areas where none could see. He did not imagine child-sized dogs, with their strange legends or any cooperative relationship. “What of Leonidas? Any news of him now?”

Tesla seemed more reluctant this time, but he still answered. “Brigid believes she has located his remains. She travels to recover them even as we speak. She assures me he will be repaired as soon as resources permit.”

"Excellent." Richard folded his hands in his lap, watching the last rays of sunlight as it passed beneath a horizon of twisted metal. "Keep me apprised, Tesla. I want to hear the minute anything happens that might affect the timeline. Preferably for the better."

"Of course, your grace." Tesla bowed, then rose. "The moment anything changes, you will be the first to know."

"Good," Richard answered, reaching for his book and opening directly to the page he had left off. He only had to pause to flick on the light resting beside him on the table. Richard would ensure that mankind was ready for this mission the moment the option opened.

Richard was a good king.