A long time ago, Discord created a machine meant to plunge the world into perfect chaos. Now, after countless millenia, its cogs begin to turn. Only Derpy Hooves, the least likely pony in the world to stop it, has any chance of stopping it at all.
Derpy has had a lot of misadventures. Amid them all have been moments of happiness, sadness, hope, and despair. She has come face-to-face with mad scientist wizards, tea-loving pirates, changelings, ancient dragons, and even the breaking of reality itself. All along, there has been a pervasive sense in her mind that it was all beyond her; that simple little Derpy Hooves from Ponyville wasn't meant for moments like these. Somehow though, against all odds, she has succeeded time and again. Now, that peculiar tendency brings Discord to ask her assistance in a unique crisis of his own making. Aeons ago, he made a machine with a unique ability: the power to invert the probability of the entire universe. It is a machine that makes the most unlikely the most likely, and the most probable all but impossible. If it becomes active, the consequences will be catastrophic in ways that defy imagination. Only a pony with almost no chance of stopping such a contraption has any chance of stopping it at all. The best-laid plan will go awry, and the greatest hero will doubtlessly fail. Fortunately, there is one pony in Equestria who was never meant to be a hero.
For what must have been the hundredth time that day, Derpy Hooves glanced down at her daughter to make sure she was still there. Her gaze was most intent on her hooves; she strained her eyes to be certain they still rested firm on the cloud. Several times she suspected they had very slightly sunk, and each time she snatched Dinky up to hold her aloft. In every such instance, however, a careful test revealed that the little unicorn was still buoyant and able to stand on Cloudsdale's puffy foundations as surely as if they were solid ground.
Princess Twilight had promised the spell would last for three days, and had even demonstrated its safety via Pinkie Pie's willing assistance. Still, Derpy found it difficult to get used to her daughter being so high up in the sky, supported only by an enchantment. Unicorns were magical, certainly, but they were still a type of pony never meant to leave the ground for more than a momentary hop, skip, or jump.
That thought spurred Derpy once more to imagine that Dinky's hooves had slipped some tiny fraction of an inch downward into the surface of the cloud, and once more she snatched the little unicorn up into her forelegs, hopping upward to hover over the surface of the cloud.
"Ditzy," said Chill Breeze, standing just below her and to her left.
Derpy's true given name came out of his mouth as equal parts sigh and huff. She grinned, uncomfortably, still clutching Dinky to her chest.
"Well, it's just..." she began.
"I know," said Chill Breeze, "but if you keep grabbing her up like this every thirty seconds, it's gonna take us half the day to get to your dad's place."
"Mom," said Dinky, "I feel kinda airsick. Could you put me down?"
"Sorry, Dinks," said Derpy, and she gently lowered the little unicorn to where she had stood only moments before. "Just don't go near the edge of the clouds. It's easy to slip off; I've... done it... a bunch."
"Can we get moving now?" asked Chill Breeze. "Everything'll be fine."
"Sure," said Derpy.
She glanced warily at Dinky, and gnawed at the edge of her hoof. Chill Breeze was right, of course; everything would be fine. After all, Princess Twilight would never have put Dinky's safety in jeopardy by using a spell in which she had anything less than complete confidence. Nonetheless, Dinky was the single most precious thing in the world to Derpy; her life's biggest investment, and all that remained to her beyond memories of someone she had dearly loved. It simply wasn't easy to know she was more-or-less in mortal peril.
"Dinky," said Chill Breeze, observing Derpy's nervous posture, "why don't you walk next to me... further away from your mom."
"Okay!" said Dinky, and she darted under Chill Breeze's belly, right between his fore and hind legs.
"Whoa!" he cried, arching his back to let her pass. "You're getting kinda big for that, you know? And don't run around so fast; might be a sinkhole around here somewhere. Your mom's not completely paranoid; you could slip right through if you don't watch your step."
"Sorry!" said Dinky. "I'm just excited! I've never been up this high before! I never met Grandpa before, either!"
"Neither have I," said Chill Breeze, but Derpy could tell from the tone of his voice that he was not nearly so excited by the prospect as Dinky.
It wasn't that Derpy had not wanted Dinky to meet the old stallion -- her or Chill. It was that she wasn't sure whether he would want to meet either of them. He was a withdrawn stallion who rarely left his house, and he lived on the outskirts of Cloudsdale. His house, the home of Derpy's own formative years, sat on a puff of old cloud that always seemed a bit grayer than the clouds around it. The local weather and construction crews were kind enough to keep a bridge of cloud running from the main body of the city out to that one lonely little cloud with its one lonely little house, but the clouds leading out towards it were, as Chill Breeze had warned Dinky, less stable and solid than those of Cloudsdale proper.
With a bit of care, however, they made their way across them, and soon stood before the tiny, gray house that stood alone in the sky. It had always seemed to Derpy that the little house had a face, with its two front windows and short staircase, and that face had, for longer than she cared to remember, always seemed sad and lonesome. Its window eyes were dark now, the way she most clearly remembered them, and the awning of its porch had sagged until the whole house appeared weary and forlorn. It made Derpy's heart ache to see it this way, and she wondered what her mother would think if she could see it like this.
"Doesn't matter, Derps," she mumbled to herself. "She's gone, and you're all he's got left of her... And you ran away."
"What was that?" said Chill Breeze.
"Ruminating," said Derpy, shaking her head. "Talking to myself like I do sometimes. Just thinking about how I should have come back here a long time ago."
"You came back when you were ready," said Chill, shrugging. "What good would it have done if you weren't?"
Chill was nothing like Derpy in many ways. He was calm, collected, and largely unemotional, whereas Derpy was always a mess of confused thoughts and worries. Somehow, though, he always did seem to know what to say, and she never ceased to be grateful for that.
They were standing on the front porch, now, and Derpy sighed.
"Well, no use putting it off," she said, and she knocked twice gently on the door.
"That all?" said Chill Breeze. "That wasn't very loud."
"If he's in there, he heard it," said Derpy.
"And if he's not in there?" asked Chill Breeze.
"Then he's probably dead," mumbled Derpy.
They waited for over a minute before Chill Breeze spoke again.
"You sure you shouldn't knock again?" he asked.
"He's coming," said Derpy. "It always took him minute to get out of bed."
"It's two in the aftern..." began Chill Breeze, but he did not finish.
The door knob crackled, creaked, and twisted, and the door began to open. As it swung fully aside, there came a gasp from Dinky, followed by a confused cluster of not-quite greetings.
"Oh," said Chill Breeze, and then, "Uh-huh."
"Hi, Daddy," said Derpy, trying her best to smile.
"Ditzy?" said Her Father, raising a hoof to shield his yellow eyes from the sun.
"Grandpa's a bat pony!" shouted Dinky, hopping up and down.
Indeed he was: a paint bat pony of two contrasting grays that mottled themselves together unevenly all over his body. He had Derpy's yellow eyes, narrowed to fine slits in the sunlight, and his mane, salt and pepper where once it had been black, was thinned with his age. He was tall and rail thin, and his cutie mark was a coffin.
"Daddy, this is Chill Breeze... My... uh... yeah," said Derpy.
"I see," said the Bat Pony, moving his hoof around to best shield his eyes as he tried to look the blue pegasus over. His tone of voice gave Derpy no clue as to whether he did or did not approve.
"And this is Dinky," said Derpy, "She's my... she's your... uh... well... yeah."
"I see," said her father again.
"Dinky, Chill," said Derpy. "This is Hearse Lastride."
"Doo," said Hearse. "Hearse Doo, Ditzy. I don't go by my bat pony name; I still use your mom's. It doesn't frighten the neighbors as much."
"But your first name is 'Hearse,' said Chill Breeze, "and you don't have any neighbors."
"Well, I did what I could," said Hearse.
"I'm a quarter bat pony!" Dinky cried, hopping up and down.
Then, all at once, she stopped still where she stood, and looked up at her mother.
"What's that mean?" she asked.
"Do you like the dark?" asked Hearse.
"It's okay I guess," said Dinky. "I'm not really afraid of it or anything."
"That's probably about it," said Hearse.
"Cool!" said Dinky.
"Well, come inside," said the bat pony. "Quick, before I go blind staring into Celestia's wretched fireball."
"You know, Daddy, you don't have to be so negative," said Derpy. "We do need the sun."
"We need morticians, too," said Hearse, "but I don't ask anypony to worship me for it."
He turned and disappeared into the house, leaving the three of them standing on the porch.
"Cheery fellow," said Chill.
"I heard that," Hearse's voice echoed through the open door.
"I shouldn't really expect him to like me, should I?" asked Chill Breeze.
"Goodness, no," said Derpy.
"Let's just go inside," said Chill Breeze.
Derpy nodded, took a deep breath, and gave her daughter a nudge forward. As the three ponies entered the house, they found a place so austere that it might have been questionable whether anypony lived there at all. There was little furniture and no paintings or other decoration of any kind on the walls. It was also oppressively dark; hardly any light filtered through the heavy, black curtains on the windows.
Seeing Chill Breeze glance around apprehensively, Derpy leaned close and whispered into his ear.
"Momma used to have lots of nice furniture and decorations in here" she said. "After she died, Daddy didn't want to see them anymore, so he put them away in the attic."
"Oh," said Chill. "At least it makes the place seem clean."
There came from a dark corner the sound of a match striking, and it drew their collective gaze. Hearse's pupils, which had dilated in the dark, drew themselves once more into slits as he touched the match to the wick of a lantern on what revealed itself by the light as a dining table. It was bare of any tablecloth, and totally without ornamentation.
"I don't have any food to offer you," said the bat pony. "If you'd written ahead..."
"It's okay," said Derpy. "We ate on the way here."
Hearse gave a mild, neutral grumbling in his throat, and nodded slightly.
"Well," he said. "May I ask what brings you knocking on my door after five years without so much as a letter?" He scratched at his chin. "Or is it six?"
"Eight," said Derpy, her head dropping towards the floor. "It's eight."
"Sounds about right," said Hearse. "So, what's the deal? You marrying this guy or something?"
He nodded towards Chill Breeze, who gave a surprised grunt in exactly the same moment as Derpy's sharp "What?" Dinky only turned her head in confusion, and raised an eyebrow.
"No!" said Derpy.
Chill Breeze gave her a look that mixed surprise and mild dejection, and she realized she had been more enthusiastic than she had intended.
"W... Well, maybe!" she corrected herself. "That's not... It's a not-right-now thing, if it's a thing, but it could be a thing!" She turned to Chill and nodded momentarily.
"It could... maybe."
"So, you just dropped by after eight years to say, 'Hi?'" asked Hearse.
"Not just that," said Derpy. "I wanted to say I'm sorry. I should have written you or come to see you... or something."
"Well, you're here," said Hearse. "What now?"
Derpy looked around the dark, barren room.
"I don't know," she said. "Maybe I could pull out some of Momma's old things? Fix the house up for you? I don't like you living here with it like this. It's sad."
"It doesn't bother me, Ditzy," said Hearse. "I sleep all day and work all night. I only use my bedroom, anyway."
"And it looks just like everything else, doesn't it?" asked Derpy, a note of accusation in her voice.
"It's dark," said Hearse. "So, yeah; just like everything else."
"At least let me try," said Derpy. "It would make me feel better."
Hearse sighed.
"Fine," he said, "but don't get mad if I put it all away again when you're gone."
"I won't," said Derpy. "Just don't get mad if I take it all out again when I come back."
"I won't," said Hearse, and he lifted his head suddenly.
"Come to think of it," he said. "I think I've got some tea in the cupboard. It's old, but it might still be good. I'll go make some for everypony."
With that, he disappeared into the kitchen, leaving the three of them alone in the dining room.
"Did you two just... bond... or reconcile or whatever?" asked Chill Breeze.
"I don't know what we did," said Derpy, "but I'll take it for a start."
Derpy hovered over the mantlepiece, adjusting an old, framed family photo. She had drawn back the curtains to let in a little light, and a cup of tea sat steaming on the mantle itself, untouched. She hadn't been able to bring herself to drink the stuff in nearly three years. It reminded her of something she would rather forget; a time when she had betrayed somepony who, under better circumstances, might well have been one of her best friends.
That was just one strange, ugly memory from a recent stretch of strange, ugly memories. They were piling up, it seemed; the mental baggage of too many misadventures in too short a time. Even the family photo she was adjusting took its turn in giving her heart a moment's ache.
It was not the image itself. For the first time in years Derpy felt at peace with her memories of her mother, and she was doing her best to make amends with her father. What bothered her was how much it reminded her of the one Twilight Sparkle had sent Princess Celestia. Through various twists and turns of fate, she had ended up showing a copy of that same photo to the dragon, Xindathrana, mother of Spike the dragon, and the most hateful creature the pegasus had ever met.
Thinking about that dragon made her recall another dragon that had nearly killed her: the one that had ultimately been the end of Withers Deathray, the old lunatic unicorn who would have snuffed out the life force of every single pony in Ponyville, just to make a point to Princess Celestia. What that point was, Derpy still could not imagine, but if his motives had made any sense, Deathray would have been a poor example of a mad scientist.
It was funny, really; In recent memory, she had been all but certain she was going to die more than she wanted to remember, and yet here she was, hanging a picture that her father would likely take down as soon as she left his house. Still, she wanted to see it hanging there, if only for the moment's solace it might give the both of them in remembering that once upon a time they had been a normal, happy family.
"You gonna drink that stuff?" asked Hearse, nodding from the doorway at Derpy's tea. "It's gonna get cold."
"Oh, I don't drink much tea anymore," said Derpy. "It makes me a little sick to my stomach sometimes."
She eased her hooves to the floor, and took the teacup from the mantle.
"I'll have a sip or two, though," she said. "Don't want it to go to waste."
Hearse stepped into the room, and looked around. Derpy had returned most of the old paintings and photos to the walls, and he sighed at them, shaking his head slightly.
"I forgot about most of these," he said. "Well, except that one over there."
He nodded towards a photo of Derpy's mother in her wedding dress.
"Never did forget that one. Just didn't want to look at it, anymore."
"It's a nice picture," said Derpy, but her voice cracked slightly.
She bit down hard on her lower lip at another renewed memory. This one stabbed deeper than all the rest, and Derpy took a sip of her tea to try and chase away the cold sensation that flooded through her heart.
Somewhere far to the south, in a barren land where nothing beautiful grew, Queen Chrysalis reigned in a perpetual, muted misery. There was no way in one lifetime that any mere pony could ever become a thing so wretched; always desiring love, but so unlovely that it would never be offered to them freely. It was the worst existence that Derpy could imagine, defined by a need that could only be met in a way that destroyed the significance of the selfsame thing that met it. Where the changeling queen had come from and whether she had always been as she was were questions that Derpy had pondered many times since the day she met her.
In the end, that experience of meeting a being so ruined in every part of her soul had rekindled the faint, dying spark of courage that had allowed Derpy to dare try once more to love -- to dare try and be whole. No, in one lifetime, no mere pony could ever become so wretched as Queen Chrysalis, but Derpy was certain that if she had not met the haggard, despondent queen, she would eventually have become something as near to it as a pony possibly could be. In a way, Queen Chrysalis had saved her from that fate. She felt she owed the changeling for that, but it was a debt far beyond her power to pay. Nopony could ever be as wretched as Chrysalis, and nopony could save her, either. It was impossible.
"So, your daughter," said Hearse, and stopped to scratch at his chin. "Dinky, was it? She was telling me about school in the kitchen a minute ago. How are you affording a school like that? Princess Celestia's school is an expensive institution, last I heard."
"We don't pay," said Derpy. "It's a... special arrangement."
"Something to do with that first guy you married?" asked Hearse. "He went to that school, didn't he?"
"Uh, yeah," said Derpy, "but it's nothing to do with that. It was just a lucky break. I'll tell you the whole story some time."
The two stood in silence for some time. Derpy stared at her tea, only taking one tiny sip. Just when she thought she could bear the silence for not a moment longer, her father spoke.
"You happy, Ditzy?" he asked.
The question took the little mare so off guard she could barely manage a confused grunt in response.
"With your life?" said Hearse. "You happy with that... Chill Breeze?"
"I think so," she said. "I feel better about things than I have in years. I've had to work through a lot of... hard times, lately, but I think I can see the other side, now. That's why I came here. I always wanted to, but I had to sort myself out, first. I couldn't let you see me when I was..."
Her sentence trailed off.
"Was what?" asked Hearse.
Derpy drew a deep breath, and shrugged.
"Nothing," she said, not even sure of how she meant for her father to take the word.
Apparently, he was no more sure of how to take it than she was of what she meant by it. He seemed to puzzle over it for a moment, and finally yawned.
"Well, it's still mid-afternoon." he said. "Be awhile until sundown, and I need to go get an hour or two's worth of shut-eye. I have to work tonight. Your, uh, boyfriend... And Dinky; they're out back making cloud angels. Waste of time with how fast they vanish, but she seems to get a kick out of it."
Derpy forced a smile at her father.
"Before you go to bed, I know it's kinda pitiful to show up here and ask, but is there anything I can do for you? Anything that would make you happy? Make you forgive me for staying gone for so long?"
"Wasn't really holding a grudge," shrugged Hearse. "I wouldn't have stayed here with me, either. Must have been awful for you. I'm just glad to see you've got it together."
Derpy could not suppress a bitter chuckle.
"If I've got it together," she said, "I don't deserve it."
"What makes you say that?" asked Hearse.
This time, it was a snicker that she could not suppress.
"What doesn't?" she asked. "I don't even have a job at the moment. I'm trying to open a dance studio in Ponyville, but nopony is taking it seriously. They all think I'm just the same old goofball klutz -- which I am."
"But you are trying?" asked the bat pony.
"It's all I can do," said Derpy, "but yeah."
"Then you deserve it," said Hearse. "Whatever you can make of yourself, you deserve it."
He turned and headed down the hallway towards his bedroom, leaving Derpy alone in the den. She turned and looked once more at the photo of her mother in her wedding dress, and sighed.
"Haven't made much of myself," she said, "so I guess I don't deserve much."
There came then the sound of several taps from the direction of the front window. She turned towards it expecting to see Chill or Dinky, and nearly cried out in shock at what she beheld.
It was none other than Discord, and he was waving at her with a wide, gleeful grin.
"Oh my," she said, and she backed away several steps in fear.
Then, the doorknob rattled momentarily, and the front door opened. Who should stand there, of all ponies in the world, but the Doctor himself?
"Oh no," said Derpy, shaking her head violently left and right. "What are you doing here?" She pointed at Discord. "With him!?"
"Ah, well... Would you believe we need your help?" asked the Doctor, adjusting his tie awkwardly.
"No," said Derpy. "No, I would not."
"Well, neither would we," said the Doctor, "but..."
Derpy cut him off.
"I asked you very politely to never drag me into any of whatever it is you are and whatever it is you do again," she said.
"Believe us, we know," came Discord's voice, both from within the room and from far too near for him to have approached unnoticed. Derpy turned to find him immediately to her right. "Really, if we had any other option -- at all -- we would have taken it."
"I don't find that the least bit comforting," said Derpy.
"You really shouldn't," said the Doctor.
"Then we're all on the same page!" said Discord gleefully.
"Look," said Derpy, "this is my dad's house, and my daughter and boyfriend are here. You can't be here, and if you don't both leave, I'll scream. Now, go."
"Suits me," said Discord, and in a flash Derpy found herself standing in the Doctor's lab back in Ponyville, Discord to one side of her, and the Doctor to the other.
"I didn't mean for you to take me with you!" she cried.
"That wasn't stipulated," said Discord.
"Well, I do feel it was at the very least implied," said the Doctor.
"They're going to notice I'm gone!" shouted Derpy. "They'll be worried; you have to send me back!"
"Don't worry," said Discord, pulling out a TV remote. "I have them paused."
"You have them what?" asked Derpy.
"It's not important," said the Doctor. "It is highly unethical, but it's not important."
"What's important," said Discord, "is that we have selected you for a mission of paramount importance -- a mission to which only you, of all ponies, are suited."
"I don't want to do it," said Derpy.
"Tough muffins," said Discord.
"Don't you even want to know what the 'it' you don't want do is?" asked the Doctor.
"No!" shouted Derpy. "I quit the Equestrian Parcel Service because I was sick of this kind of thing coming up, and, yes, without even hearing what it is, I know this is exactly the kind of thing I'm talking about!"
"Oh," laughed Discord, "In ways you would not even believe!"
"You are entirely too happy about this situation," said the Doctor, scrutinizing Discord with a raised eyebrow.
"It's probably the end of the world," said Discord. "If I don't take it in good humor, I imagine the whole affair is going to be terribly depressing."
"Probably the what, now?" said Derpy.
In a flash, Discord materialized a chest-length beard, a cup full of loose change, and a cardboard sign with "THE END IS NEAR" scrawled on it in black permanent marker.
"It's the end times!" he cried. "Repent of your inequities and be gathered unto the red-maned hairless ape goddess!"
"Discord!" shouted the Doctor.
"Yes, sinner?" asked Discord.
"Focus, please."
"My focus is squarely on she who shall redeem us when the cleansing fire falls from heaven!"
The Doctor ran his hoof down his face and sighed.
"Maybe I should be the one to explain this," he said.
In an instant, Discord's sign and beard disappeared.
"How dare you!?" he said indignantly, laying a claw on his chest. "It's my doomsday machine. I get to explain it."
"Go right ahead," said the Doctor.
Discord cleared his throat, and gave a hum.
"Where do I begin?" he mumbled.
"At the beginning, please," said the Doctor. "She's a temporally linear being. You can't just start in middle and work out towards either end!"
"I disagree," said Discord. "Some of the best stories ever told start in media res."
"I'm trying to keep this simple," said the Doctor. "You are not helping."
"Fine," said Discord, huffing in exasperation.
"Wait," said Derpy, "How did you two even end up..."
"WE'RE GETTING THERE!" shouted Discord and the Doctor in perfect unison.
"Slowly," said the Doctor.
"Sorry," said Derpy.
"Now," said Discord, "When I was younger and less foolish..."
"You mean younger and more foolish?" asked Derpy.
Discord blinked several times, tilting his head left and right. Finally, he shrugged.
"When I was younger," he said. "You know; back before ponies -- I'm old, by the way."
"Really?" asked the Doctor. "You don't look it."
"Thank you," said Discord, "but the point is I was young, once. Well, younger, anyway, and I, like all young beings born of the swirling madness at the center of all that cannot be yet is, had a dream. That dream was to see all the world plunged into perfect, ultimate, eternal chaos.
Now, I know what you're thinking: 'You're Discord; the Discord. Surely there was nothing stopping you from doing such a thing, if you had really wanted to.' Well, you'd be right; there wasn't. There still isn't. I could do it right now. Freaky, huh?
The problem is that sustaining that sort of cataclysmic disarray is taxing. Not even I can maintain it in perpetuity. In fact, if I tried, I have strong suspicions I might explode. How strong? Strong enough I haven't tried, and I'll try almost anything at least twice.
However, there was no reason I couldn't apply the basic principles governing my magic to the creation of a machine that could maintain perfect eternal chaos. As soon as I realized that, I set to work building just such a device.
It took awhile. It's hard to build when you don't have a body, and life was kind of a new thing back then. There wasn't even anything I was interested in perverting and twisting into a physical manifestation for myself yet, you see, so I had to go about it purely through telekinesis and reforging and recombination of naturally existing materials through purely magical means. I sort of lost track of the calendar, in fact, but by studying a little geology and taking measurements of erosion and so forth, I've since estimated it was maybe half a million years, tops. Honestly, it felt longer some days, but it was a tedious job.
When I was finished, I was of course quite proud of what I'd made, but there was a problem: it needed time to come up to speed -- and when I say it needed time, I mean it needed TIME. It's been working ever since then, all of its various parts rolling and turning against one another at such a slow rate that not even the mountains themselves would have noticed the motion before they were worn away and replaced with new mountains. The thing is, though, it speeds up exponentially, and if the Doctor's calculations are correct, it's going to go from what a mortal might take for a dead stop to a state of full-speed operation by about the end of this week. At that point... Well, whatever you had planned for that day, you can forget it."
"What happens when it reaches full speed?" asked Derpy, her blood already chilled.
"Total inversion of all probability in the known universe and likely beyond," said Discord. "The least likely things to ever happen will become the most likely, and vice versa. You know how you think, 'Ah, a super-volcano's not going to erupt this afternoon and plunge the world into nuclear winter?' Or those mornings you get up and say, 'An asteroid's not going to strike the planet today; what are the odds?' How about, 'Surely after those disastrous prequels, they won't make another Star Horse movie, further ruining and abusing the franchise by cluttering our memory with more boring, magically-enhanced effects when we all know it was the low budget practicals of the originals that made them special?'
Well, what if you were wrong!? What if all those things and worse were not only likely, but very nearly inevitable!? That's what my machine does. Technically, it would be considered a fully analog metaphysical probability inversion engine. Hence, I briefly went with the acronym: FAMPIE. But that sounds stupid, so I usually just call it 'the engine,' or 'the machine,' or some such."
"Well that's... ominous and terrible," said Derpy.
"I know," said Discord, smiling. "Isn't it neat?"
"No," said Derpy, "but how can a machine do all those things you just said? It's... just a machine, right? So many gears and springs?"
"Once again," said Discord, "in ways you can't begin to imagine, but that's beside the point. Were you not listening?" said Discord. "It's a fully analog metaphysical probability inversion engine!"
"I am not Princess Twilight," said Derpy. "Heck, I'm not even Rainbow Dash."
"We know," said Discord, "and that's why you're here."
"Look," said the Doctor, "It works like this, Ditzy."
"I thought your name was Derpy," said Discord, looking momentarily confused.
"Funny story," said Derpy. "but I'll answer to either one."
"Would you both please stop derailing the conversation?" asked the Doctor.
"Sorry," said Derpy.
"Not sorry," said Discord.
The Doctor huffed for a moment, then drew a breath.
"Listen, Ditzy," he said. "Everything -- and I mean EVERYTHING -- can be mathematically expressed and explained. Even matter could, given a LOT of time and effort, be shown in every aspect of what it is numerically. Everything that has ever been or will ever be, in a very real sense, is just a lot of numbers. You, me, even Discord there; we're all just numbers compressed through a mixture of chance and design into animate beings. Everything we do every day is governed by these numbers, and though the universe is an essentially orderly system, there are so many variables that it's impossible to ever fully predict."
"You lost me," said Derpy.
"All you need to know is this," said the Doctor. "The engine generates a field that takes every single manipulable variable with which it comes into contact, and turns it on its ear. It makes every positive value negative and every negative positive. It makes imaginary numbers real, and real numbers imaginary. It makes absolute values relative. It divides by zero while carrying the one. It thinks in binary and uses the number three, because it's so crazy it skipped two."
"That all sounds really terrifying," said Derpy, "but could you explain it without the math?"
"It makes the least likely thing to happen the most likely," said Discord. "However probable anything is, upon exposure to the machine, it becomes just that unlikely, and vice versa."
"Oh," said Derpy. "Is that bad?"
"It's terrible," said the Doctor. "Not that nothing good could ever come out of it, but think of this: How often in your day-to-day life does something really, truly terrible happen?"
"In my life?" asked Derpy. "I think you're asking the wrong pony."
"Okay," said the Doctor, "that was a bad way to phrase the question, but in fairness this is precisely why we need you."
"I don't get it," said Derpy.
"As we said, the engine should be coming up to speed, now. It has sat for so long without accomplishing its intended purpose that mathematically it is becoming more and more likely that the machine simply doesn't work. Because of the way it was designed, however, that is actually making it more and more inevitable that it does work, and will soon activate fully. Before that happens, someone has to go inside the engine and disarm it. Easily done, except that the engine has already reached a great enough speed that it can generate a field at least as large as itself. That means that only a pony who, by rights, should have almost no chance of getting inside and stopping it has any chance at all."
"So that's why you picked me?" asked Derpy. "Because I'm a habitual failure!?"
"Not in so many words!" said the Doctor, waving his hoof in front of his face defensively.
"But in many, many more," said Discord, "yeah, pretty much."
"It's not as bad as it sounds, Ditzy!" said the Doctor. "Remember; Discord has eyes and ears everywhere, and he also has friends who know a lot of what goes on that most ponies never hear about. We know for a fact that you've been through several situations that should have killed you -- that you had extremely, unbelievably bad luck, and only ever survived because of chance occurrences over which you had no control and could have done little to influence. You have a history of succeeding where every law of physics and probability -- where the universe itself -- says you should fail! You're the only pony in the entire world who is a bona-fide, legitimate veteran at exactly what we need you to do!"
"Which is something I'm guaranteed to DIE trying to pull off!?" said Derpy.
"EXACTLY!" said Discord and the Doctor, once again in perfect unison.
"No way!" said Derpy. "There has to be somepony better qualified for this kind of thing!"
"But don't you see?" asked the Doctor. "Being better qualified makes them worse qualified!"
"Why can't you do it Discord!?" asked Derpy.
"Don't you understand?" asked Discord. "I designed and built it; I know more about how it works than anyone. If anyone should be able to succeed in disarming it, it's me, and that means I would surely fail!"
"Well, what about you then, Doctor!?" whined the pegasus.
"I... might have... helped him build it," said the Doctor.
"WHY!?" Derpy shouted.
"I wanted to see if it would work, okay!?" blurted the Doctor. "I didn't quite consider that by helping create it I was making it highly unlikely that I could later dismantle it!"
"Well, are you satisfied?" asked Derpy, angrily. "Does it work?"
"Oh yes," said the Doctor. "I used the basic principle to design a small ray-based variant. Shined it on a venture capitalist. He had a sudden attack of conscience so severe I had to save the poor lout from diving out a thirtieth story window."
"Wow," said Derpy. "This thing is bad news."
"I destroyed that ray," said the Doctor. "Some things shouldn't exist."
"Look," said Derpy. "Just get Twilight Sparkle and her friends to take care of it; they're, like, super heroes!"
"Which means they have basically no chance," said Discord. "Has to be you."
"What about Princess Celestia? Can't we tell her? Surely she could think of..."
"Too powerful," said the Doctor. "Same story."
"And this is like really, probably, almost definitely the end of the world if I don't do this?" asked Derpy.
"It's a little more certain than that," said Discord. "The end of the world is something that's certain to happen eventually, so the machine won't stop it from happening. It's just that it's not very likely to happen, say, next week. The machine will make it incredibly likely to happen every single day until it does."
"How many days will that take?" asked Derpy.
"Three or four, maybe," said the Doctor.
"Sounds about right," said Discord, "Provided it isn't, you know, basically instantaneous."
He stopped and scratched at his head for a moment.
"Now that I think about it," he said, "That's actually really likely; I mean what are the odds the universe is going to end? If it goes straight to the top, then... Wow. What was I thinking when I designed that thing?"
"What if I still don't want to do it?" asked Derpy.
"Well, look at it this way," said the Doctor. "Do you think it's very likely you'd change your mind later?"
"Haha," grumbled Derpy.
"So, you're on board?" asked Discord.
"I guess so," said Derpy.
"GREAT!" shouted both Discord and the Doctor, in unison for the third time.
They stopped and looked at each other for a moment.
"You finish explaining," said the Doctor. "This is becoming awkward."
"Alright," said the Draconequus. "When it begins to activate, the machine is programmed to rise up out of its hiding place in the ocean. It's so large that the abyssal plane was the only place I could conceal it, but it can't fully activate there; the pressure and water resistance will keep the mechanisms from operating at full power. To keep it from being easily tampered with before it reaches full capacity, it will elevate itself well above the surface of the water. We're going to need an airship to get close, but there are autonomous defenses mounted all over the whole engine... Also deathbots.
"Death... bots?" asked Derpy.
"Deathbots," said Discord. "So, the ship has to be an armed one with a full crew that knows how to fight. There's one caveat, though: Because we can't predict how far the field will have spread by the time we arrive, it can't be a disciplined, well-trained crew with a state-of-the-art battle cruiser. We need misfits and screw-ups and losers with an old, busted piece of junk for a ship."
"Know anyone like that?" asked the Doctor, arching his eyebrows knowingly.
Derpy sighed, stared at the floor, and shook her head.
Many times in the past few years Derpy had found herself in places that she would have preferred never to have been. Alcatrots Maximum Security Prison, a floating island anchored on the opposite side of the mountain from Canterlot Castle, was only one more name on the list.
The prison was nearly as old as Canterlot itself, and unlike most floating structures, it was not made of cloud. Pegasi could manipulate buildings made of cloud at will; to have constructed it in that way would be an invitation for pegasus prisoners to escape. Instead, it was an actual island, torn from the sea by Celestia's magic, and heavily enchanted by none other than Starswirl the Bearded so that it would float freely in the sky for thousands of years. It was anchored to the ground far below by a number of huge chains, and it could only be accessed by several air ferries, small airships used mostly for getting prisoners and staff onto and off of the island. These were so strictly regulated, and identification so strictly checked, that it was effectively impossible to gain unauthorized access to the island.
Impossible, that is, if one was not (or did not have the assistance of) a mad god of chaos with the power to disregard all laws governing time, space, and the several dimensions in between and branching from the two.
When Derpy Hooves simply materialized inside Teacup's cell, the former pirate captain stared at her in a daze for several seconds. She wore a plain, gray prison uniform, and had been leaning behind a partially-lifted poster of Spitfire, captain of the Wonderbolts, digging at the wall with a small rock hammer, which she held in her mouth.
"Well, this is a development," she said through clenched teeth. "Either the food here has me hallucinating again, or you are Derpy Hooves."
The mauve pegasus mare spat the rock hammer into her hoof, and waited for Derpy to speak.
"Um... hi," said Derpy, and she gave an awkward wave from across the tiny cell.
"No," said Teacup, "certainly not hallucinating. This goes without saying, but the question begs itself: What are you doing here?"
"Would you believe I came to break you out of prison?" asked Derpy, her face reddening.
"Well, that is a fine gesture," said Teacup, "and I admit to a certain degree of surprise that you managed to get here at all. However, I must confess certain doubts..."
Just as Teacup was about to finish her sentence, Discord popped into existence just to Derpy's left.
"And those doubts have just been alleviated," said Teacup. "Now, to my next question: Why?"
"Need a battleship," said Discord.
"With a crew full of misfit pirates," said Derpy.
"Well, I am afraid I no longer have either of those things," said Teacup.
"You will in less than twenty minutes," said Discord.
"Well, there you've gone and nicked my last excuse." said Teacup. "May I ask whom it is we are to pillage."
"Giant engine of ultimate chaos predating vertebrate life," said Discord.
"Corking," said Teacup.
In eighteen minutes, the crew of the Red Whatever was dashing up its gangplank where it had been moored at the Canterlot salvage yard, waiting to be scrapped. It had taken Discord less than a third of that time to get the pirates all broken out of their cells, but on the way there from the prison, several of them had insisted on stopping at a convenience store for hard cider and lottery tickets. Having no money, they had robbed the establishment at knife-point, and it had slowed the trip to the salvage yard considerably.
"Discord!" shouted Derpy, following the throng of ill-tempered scoundrels up the gangplank, "if I end up on trial for this, I'm telling everypony it was all your fault!"
"Go ahead," said Discord, floating beside her in a pirate costume he had donned for the occasion. "They'll believe you. You'll probably get a full pardon."
"Well, that's... good, I guess," said Derpy, reaching the deck of the ship.
Everywhere, pirates were running left and right, casting off mooring lines, checking to make sure the ship was still functional. Amid this madness, the Doctor approached.
"This is amazing," he said cheerfully. "It's a good thing the royal navy is so disastrously bureaucratic; they hadn't gotten around to so much as unloading the cannons!"
"Handy," said Discord, then he stopped to think for a moment, twisting his nose in consideration. "Or would that be 'hoofy?'" he asked. "That's never really been clear, has it?"
"No, not at all," said the Doctor, "but get this: the cargo hold is loaded to the brim with tea. It's like heaven down there!"
Discord huffed and rolled his eyes.
"We get it; you're English," he said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, there's something vital that needs my attention before we set sail."
With that he materialized a small painter's pallet and brush, and floated upward towards the huge, rigid-framed fuselage of the ships' balloon.
Derpy was left alone, looking around in a daze at the bizarre sight of pirates frantically readying their old ship for its unexpected voyage. As she stood there, observing the madness about herself, Teacup approached.
"Shall I have Galley brew us some tea?" she asked.
"Why not?" asked Derpy. "It's the end of the world. Might as well enjoy it."
"Pegwing!" cried Teacup.
"Aye, Cap'n?" came a familiar voice, grinding and robust.
Derpy turned to see the fat, green pegasus, a mug of frothing cider in one hoof, his cutlass strapped around his waist, and the same two weathered wooden pegs where once his wings had been.
"Send a call into Galley for a pot of tea, and have Helm take us up as soon as Engine Room gets up to speed."
"But a meager jiff that'll take, Cap'n!" said Pegwining. "Engine Room's had naught to entertain him but heavy rocks and a pull-up bar since we fell into the hooves of our contemners! He swears he can peddle faster now than ever!"
"Good," said Teacup. "Send him my thanks. For the moment, I have to catch up with an old friend."
Princess Celestia sat with her sister on the balcony outside her bedchamber. It was nearing sunset, and the two of them had made a habit of taking a few minutes to discuss royal business, personal matters, or whatever happened to be on their minds before changing shifts. Their long lives had given them every opportunity to experience irony in all of its forms, intentional and accidental, and this evening would be no exception; they were drinking tea.
"Any specific plans for the night?" asked Celestia.
"None in particular," said Luna, "but given that today was Taco Tuesday at thine academy of the arcane, I doth suspect a rash of nightmares. Quelling them shall keepeth me well-occupied, at least."
"I really should have them take the tacos off the menu. Unicorn constitutions simply weren't meant for such things."
"Indeed," said Luna, sipping at her tea. "Only an earth pony couldst ever have conceived of such a vile, blighted thing as the triple-layer Canterlot Reaper Mortalitaco, and only an earth pony is fit to consume it... Hast thou tried one?"
"My word!" said Celestia. "Certainly not!"
She took a sip of her own tea, and then looked towards her sister, raising an eyebrow.
"Wait," she said. "Have you?"
"No," said Luna.
"Thank goodness," said Celestia.
"But Nightmare Moon did," said Luna. "She wept."
"Oh," said Celestia, and then after a long pause, she asked quietly and almost reverently, "What was it like?"
"There is little I can tell thee," said Luna. "I recall naught of that dark experience but pain."
"You poor dear," said Celestia.
There came then a commotion from the hallway, followed by several frenzied knocks at the door of the Princess' chamber.
"Enter!" said Celestia, standing to turn towards the sound.
The door flung open, and a guard galloped in, huffing heavily beneath his barding.
"Milady!" he said, bowing, and then he noticed Princess Luna. "And Milady!" he said, bowing once more.
"I can make guilt monsters," said Princess Luna. "I am nopony's lady."
"Point," said the guard, "but more importantly, there's been a jailbreak! And the theft of royal property!"
"Slow down," said Celestia. "I need details."
"Discord broke the pirates out of Alcatrots!" cried the guard. "They're trying to steal their ship from the salvage yard!"
"What!?" asked Celestia. "Why would Discord do such a thing!?"
"Perhaps thou might bring thy query before Discord himself," said Luna, tapping on her sister's shoulder and pointing as she took another sip of her tea.
Celestia turned to see the rusted, peeling hull of the Red Whatever rising upward a scant fifty yards away. The pirates had lined up along its deck, and were saluting her as it rose to eclipse the fiery orange ball of her own setting sun. Only when the light was thus obscured and her eyes had been given a moment to regain their sense of contrast did she see and take stock of what had been painted upon the ancient battleship's prow.
When she realized what it was, her face went red at the sight, even through her fur, and her levitating teacup and saucer simply fell from the air to shatter on the stone tile of the balcony. She stared forward, not speaking at all, for no coherent, conscious thought that might have been put into words would even form itself in her mind.
It was her -- Princess Celestia herself -- rendered in excruciating detail as an art nouveau pinup. She sat astride a falling bomb, her mane and tail flowing long and loose behind her in a hundred curls and swirls. Her wings were spread wide, and three shed feathers trailed away from them. She wore no mantle or shoes, and her hooves were clasped behind her her head, which was thrown back, eyes half open, with a yellow rose clutched in her teeth.
"What... What am I looking at?" she finally asked, unable to pull her eyes away from the image of herself.
"Nose art," said her sister, finishing her tea.
Celestia's eyes played over the surreal sight of the rising ship. She scanned down the line of saluting faces, and one by one the pirates' composure began to break, giving way to laughter, hoots, cat calls, and cheers. As she scanned down the line, she saw Discord. He was waving cheerfully, and just beside him stood the last pony she ever would have expected to see: Derpy Hooves, her head down, and her hoof pressed against her face.
The ship slowly rotated until it was turned directly away from the city. Once it was aligned such that there could be no accusation that any harm was meant by it, the vessel gave a full volley of cannon from its starboard gun ports, sending its shots into the uninhabited side of a nearby mountain. Having given this final salute, it began to move forward, headed westward toward the setting sun.
As the Red Whatever sailed forward under the mighty power of Engine Room's titanic quads, Discord and the Doctor decided it was a good time to brief Derpy on what precisely she could expect find inside the engine.
"We have no idea of what you'll find inside the engine," said Discord.
"Not the foggiest," said the Doctor.
"But you built it!" said Derpy, nearly spilling her tea in her frustration.
"Be careful with that," said Teacup. "My whole private reserve is in the hold; after all of that has been drunk, the world will never again know such dulcet, complex flavor."
"Really?" asked the Doctor, staring into the cup of tea he'd been given. "Well, that's going on my list of things to fix."
"Tea?" asked Discord, giving the Doctor a skeptical look. "Going to save the tea? Uh huh... Don't you have, like, planets to save?"
"I'll get around to it!" said the Doctor.
"Well, I don't really watch your show, but it just seems like..."
"Well, I didn't like Star Trek, either!" cried the Doctor, and he took a deep breath to calm himself. "But here we both are nonetheless, drinking tea on the deck of a pirate ship headed towards a... thing. We can get along until this is over with -- and not question one another's methods."
"Really," said Teacup, "could both of you take it just a tad easier on the fourth wall, there? What did it ever do to either of you?"
"I don't know what everypony is talking about," said Derpy, "but I really would like to know how the one who built the machine can't know what it's like inside it?"
"I built it from the inside out," said Discord. "It was constructed layer upon layer, millennium after millennium. I forgot most of the details, and even if I remembered them, reality itself is so unstable inside this thing, you might as well ask me what it looks like inside my refrigerator."
"Your what?" asked the Doctor.
"Trust me," said Discord; "it's crazy in there."
"Ah," said the Doctor.
"From what I understand," said Teacup, "it's really not as if knowing about the machine would help you. Your best chance is most likely to fly in blind like a bat out of Tartaros."
"That's racist and ableist!" cried Helm, the bat pony helm officer of the Red Whatever, who as it so happened wore a pair of eye patches to protect his eyes from the sun, thus rendering himself blind.
"No it's not," said Teacup. "It's a colloquialism. Don't go social justice warrior on me, or I'll let somepony else drive! You're not even really blind for pony's sake! And for that matter, why are you wearing your eye patches? The sun set hours ago!"
"Well, how was I to know!?" asked Helm, removing his eye patches. "I couldn't see! Somepony needs to tell me these things!"
Discord gave a smile of calm satisfaction.
"I love this ship," he said. "Can I hang out with you guys more often?"
"Don't see why not," shrugged Teacup.
The Doctor cleared his throat, and spoke.
"To bring things back to the matter at hand... hoof... forehoof? Oh, blast; to get things back on track, (as it seems I keep having to do) Teacup is right, Ditzy; the less you know about what you have to do inside the machine, the better. Anything that should help you in a logical world will only hinder you in there."
"But there is one thing I can tell you," said Discord. "Just breaking parts of the machine won't work. In fact, because part of it being broken should make it less likely to work..."
"It will only make it work even faster if I fly around inside randomly breaking things," said Derpy.
"You're getting it!" said Discord.
"Yay," said Derpy. "What cryptic, nonsensical thing do I have to do to actually stop it?"
"Well," said Discord, "The only thing that can permanently, truly stop the engine is if you disable its power source."
"And that is?" asked Derpy.
"An impossible dream," said Discord.
"I knew it would be something abstract and weird," said Teacup.
"Well, that's the nexus of all improbability, isn't it?" asked Discord. "You know what I'm talking about; that one dream... that thing you want more than anything but you know you can simply never have because everything about who and what you are makes it impossible.
It's the would-be poet with no skill at verse. It's the tone-deaf musician who won't put down his instrument. It's the shrimp with asthma who wants to be a star athlete, and the ugly, awkward colt with a crush on the beautiful, popular filly. It's the author who knows a good story when he reads one, but has no idea of what makes it good."
At this, he stopped, and looked outward from the monitor. For just a moment, he raised his eyebrow at the author. It was an awkward moment, but Mannulus shrugged it off as best he could, and continued typing.
"It's the most forlorn, yet powerful thing in the universe," Discord continued. "It's so strong in fact that sometimes it really does make the impossible happen. It's denial, plain and simple, but it's so much more. It's stubbornness and hope and perseverance; blood, sweat, tears, and toil. If there's such a thing as a soul, it's the soul of the soul."
"Wow," said the Doctor. "That's deep."
"Not really," said Discord. "There's no such thing as a soul."
"That's all really... nice," said Derpy, "but what's it look like."
"I don't know," said Discord. "It was my impossible dream that I put at the center of the machine, but my only dream back then was to finish the machine. Of course, now it's finished, but the trouble is that it's not my dream anymore. I mean, I forgot the lousy thing even existed until I was taking a shower last night. It was one of those 'Aw, snap!' kind of moments, you know?"
"Well, what's your impossible dream now?" asked Derpy.
"I don't have one anymore," said Discord. "I gave up dreaming a long time ago; it makes life more fun if you just let it come at you however it wants to. Dreams are just you trying to force it, but I suppose there are some who still need them. Whatever the case, it has to still be in there. The machine is definitely starting up -- I can feel it -- and impossible dreams never die; they're too absurd. Reality won't even acknowledge them, much less go out of its way to kill them."
"So I'm going into a giant machine that I know nothing about to find an abstract concept that can't possibly exist and yet somehow serves as the machine's power source." said the pegasus.
"Basically," said Discord.
"How do I even stop it when I find it?" asked Derpy.
"Well," Discord began, but then there came an outcry from above.
"Cap'n, I seen somethin' strange up ahead!"
It was Lookout. The squat little pegasus landed heavily on the deck, and waddled up to Teacup.
"It be an unnatural thing," he said. "A shadow what glows in the deep; a stranger thing than me eye has ever seen."
"Lookout, that's absurd," said Teacup. "How can it be a shadow and also glow? Those are diametrically opposed concepts."
"More obliquely, really," said the Doctor. "A shadow doesn't destroy or absorb light; it's just a place where light isn't striking as directly as the surfaces around it."
"Then how can it glow!?" cried Teacup.
"I didn't say it was at all normal," said the Doctor. "It's just that you made it sound as if it was a black hole or some such."
Lookout pulled aside the thick bangs that flopped down over his one, cyclopean eye, and scratched at his forehead.
"Uh, anypony mean to come look at this, or would ye rather stand here arguing semantics?" he asked. "Because whatever I seen, and whether it be possible or not, I know it be scary."
"Sure," said Teacup. "Anything to get myself away from Nit and Pick, here."
She gestured at Discord and the Doctor, then followed Lookout towards the prow.
"Excuse me?" said Discord. "We're coming too."
"Of course you are," said Teacup, "but it was an excuse to take a clever jab at the both of you."
Derpy sighed, and followed her strange companions towards the front of the ship. Looking over the railing, she saw the thing to which Lookout had referred, and it was indeed nothing less than a shadow that glowed in the deep. A huge expanse of the ocean simply appeared darker than the water around it, and all over it were various tiny lights that glowed, oscillated, and spun beneath the glassy surface of the water. Though they illuminated the area around themselves somewhat, the shadow was so vast that they hardly allowed the bulk of it to be seen or comprehended. It seemed to stretch to the horizon, and the little gray pegasus felt her blood chilled at its immensity.
"Wonderful!" said Discord. "We're early. It hasn't begun its final ascent yet."
Just as Discord finished this sentence, there came from the waves far beneath a long, low thrum, combined with deep, metallic creaking. There were amid this still other sounds of warbling, whirring and a muted, staccato thud that began to repeat itself in a slowly increasing tempo.
"What's that awful noise!?" asked Derpy, her voice trembling at the intensifying cacophony.
"It's beginning its final ascent, of course," said Discord.
Everyone turned to him, and gave sour looks.
"Well, we weren't that early," said the draconequus.
Celestia looked forward through a spyglass, watching the stern of the fleeing airship. She stood on the prow of her flagship, clad in her armor. Her sister stood by her side, likewise armored, and all about their ship floated the Equestrian navy -- the whole Equestrian navy.
It was past Celestia's usual bedtime by several hours, and she had been drinking cup after cup of coffee to keep herself on her hooves. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she quivered slightly with exhaustion. Still, she would not sleep; they were gaining on the Red Whatever, and she wanted to be awake when they closed to within cannon range.
The pirate vessel altered its course slightly, and she caught a momentary glimpse of its nose art as it redirected itself forward.
"It's absurd," she said. "Me as a pinup girl! Who would even imagine such a thing? Why, never in all my years..."
"Thou art more deeply troubled by this than perhaps thou shouldst be," said Luna. "'Twas hardly an insult; more an homage, if anything. 'Tis really quite common for a crew to paint the image of some muse or other on their vessel. 'Tis reputed to bring good fortune. Thou couldst even consider them to have beseeched thy own blessing."
"I do not mind being used as nose art!" blurted Celestia. "I just feel the way I was portrayed was distasteful!"
"Hardly," said Luna tugging at her bard's peytral to realign it. "'Twas at worst very mildly suggestive and not even nearly obscene."
"They could have at least asked my permission!" said Celestia, looking down at Luna, wide-eyed and indignant.
"To paint a likeness of thyself on the battleship they had just stolen after breaking out of prison and robbing a merchant?" Luna replied.
"Yes," said Celestia. "They... They could have done that."
"Sister," said Luna, "I really can manage command of the fleet. I feel thou wouldst do quite well to go and lay thyself down. Thou art becoming... unsettled. Go to thy cabin, and leave this matter to me."
"No," said Celestia, shaking her head. "I don't think I can sleep right now. I have to be here when we catch up to them. I have words for Discord, and I keep wondering how poor little Derpy Hooves got mixed up in all of this."
"I doubt it was of her own volition," said Luna, "and I doubt the pirates will do her any harm. Now, I beg thee: go lie down."
"Is that really what you think would be best?" asked Celestia.
"I would recommend it, yes," said Luna.
Just as Luna finished speaking, a number of flickering lights appeared in the water beneath the distant, fleeing pirate ship. They grew ever more intense for several seconds, drawing the gaze of both princesses, and soon the grinding, grating sounds of something horrible, mechanical, and immense reached their ears.
"I rescind my recommendation," said Luna.
Before either Princess could speak a further word, the sea beneath the distant, red airship began to roll, seeming almost to boil with an upwelling of bubbles and the thrashing of foam and waves. In a few moments, a thing barely within the scope of imagination burst upward from the water.
It was a machine; that much was apparent merely from looking at it. What its purpose might have been and how it could even possibly function, however, were matters beyond any reasonable conjecture. It was comprised mostly of gears, some so large they must have been several miles in diameter, and some so small that Celestia could not even perceive them through her spyglass. What structure bound these gears together was difficult to perceive. There were pins and axles and massive frameworks that wove together like huge latices, all buried in and among the conglomeration of twisting, turning gears, but there was no logical arrangement of them that seemed it should be able to unite the whole.
There were other moving parts than gears, as well. There were huge springs, taller than the skyscrapers of Manehatten, compressing and decompressing rhythmically as the contraption whirled and spun and twisted its many parts about itself. There were pistons wider than city blocks that rose and fell in long rows, some inexplicably out of time with the others. There were massive flywheels that drove huge belts woven together from cables and chains, and some of these rotated in trios, quartets, and even quintets on long arms of steel that extended outward from the device to no apparent purpose.
All over it were lights, some on the gears, some on the structural steel that seemed to do so little in holding it together. Many of them moved, and they appeared to be of every color perceivable to the eye. Some flashed as rapidly as a strobe light. Others glowed only dimly. Still others were cast towards the sky like huge, whirling searchlights.
It gave off an air of impossible antiquity, being fully covered in a patina that was equal parts rusted steel, tarnished silver, and greened copper or brass. It was thickly layered in many places with barnacles, coral, and alien-looking deep sea life. All of this covered over much rich embellishment in patterns purely geometric, some curvilinear where others were polygonal. In many places the two patterns intermingled and overlaid one another, sometimes in harmony, other times in complete disarray.
It was so large that even at such a great distance, the whole of it could not be taken in without turning one's head, yet pieces of it moved and rolled about the whole at such speed that they still moved visibly across its entire surface in a matter of seconds. It stretched so far that, being built in a single plane, it actually seemed to pull up and away from the edges of the round horizon, and it left a void in the water beneath it that formed into an immense whirlpool, which after over a minute had hardly decreased in its apparent size.
Celestia was certain that the Red Whatever must have been destroyed by the immense mechanism's uprising, but when she checked again through her spyglass, she realized that the ship was still there. She rocked her head left and right in an attempt to create parallax, and realized, to her astonishment, that the Red Whatever did not give any shift in its apparent position relative to the gigantic machine.
It looks that big, she thought, and we're still twenty miles away from it, at least.
"Discord?" asked Luna.
"Discord," said Celestia, and she put away her spyglass.
"Luna," she said, "tell them to bring me more coffee. This is no longer about nose art."
On the deck of the Red Whatever, Derpy Hooves stared forward at the unthinkable engine that had just risen from the sea ahead of the ship.
"There's... no... way..." she said. "That thing can't be real!"
"Things that can't be real are kind of what I do," said Discord.
"How am I supposed to find anything in that!?" asked the pegasus, gesturing frantically at the immense object. "It's... It's... There is no word for how big that is!"
"You think it looks crazy from out here?" asked Discord. "It's bigger on the inside."
Derpy turned towards the Doctor, and scowled.
"Sorry," he said. "I mean, really, what else do I say?"
"Where do I even get inside?" asked Derpy, turning back to Discord. "I don't see anything like an opening or a doorway."
"It doesn't have one," said Discord. "Well, not one that I remember, anyway; you'll just have to figure something out. As for me, I need to go see what I can do about getting the navy here a little more quickly. We're going to need them shortly."
"Discord, I can't do this," said Derpy. "There's just no way; not even on my best, luckiest day."
"That's the spirit!" shouted Discord, and he picked up the little pegasus and hurled her forward directly at the engine.
Derpy rolled forward in the air, flapping her wings to stabilize herself. She turned then to face the ship, and shook her head in disbelief.
"I'd keep moving if I were you!" shouted Discord. "I think from over there you're just barely in range of the artillery, now."
"The WHAT!?" cried Derpy, whirling in midair.
Everywhere, all over the machine, from one horizon to the other, fire and searing light erupted.
"Wow," said Celestia, as everywhere, all over the machine, from one horizon to the other, fire and searing light erupted. "We should probably get in there."
"Indeed," said Luna, "but we're already at full steam."
"There has to be some way we can go faster!" said Celestia.
"May I ask how?" asked Luna. "Full steam meaneth 'full steam,' Celestia. These ships go no faster than this, and if we simply teleport over, we will be badly exposed and unsupported against... that."
Luna gestured at the machine.
"Well," said Celestia... There was a trick that Starswirl once suggested to me, but it's risky... Absurdly risky, really."
"Elucidate," said Luna. "Absurdity seems to be the order of the evening."
"Well," said Celestia, "that thing is so massive that it has to be exerting palpable, measurable gravity on the planet, and of course vice-versa, right?"
"I move the moon," said Luna. "I can tell thee precisely how the water that thing is no longer displacing will affect the tides for the next several decades; I do not require a physics lesson. To wit: I can do calculus in my sleep, Celestia. If I don't, in fact, everypony dies."
"You know it's more impressive if you just don't make a big deal out of it," said Celestia. "When they figure it out on their own; that's when the real horror sets in."
"Well, it's nice to talk about it with somepony who can appreciate the strain," said Luna.
"I know," said Celestia. "You can't blame them for not understanding though, Luna. Most ponies forget how to do basic long division before they finish college."
"I just..." said Luna. "I just want somepony to say, 'Thank you Princess; thank you for not allowing catastrophic global flooding last night. Thank you for maintaining a steadily, infinitesimally decelerating orbit so my farmer's almanac is accurate year-to-year. Thank you for knowing and maintaining the exact position of the Lagrange point, even though it will probably be thousands of years before we realize we could use it as a relay station for a moon base. Thank you so much. I love you Princess.'" She sighed. "That's all I want to hear, Celestia. Just once."
"Well, suck it up," said Celestia. "I did my job and yours for a long time, remember?"
"If I get back, and my favorite mountain range is still where it was when I left," said Luna, "then it was not a 'long time.'"
"Look," said Celestia, "we can have this conversation later. Right now, I need you to focus."
"Fine enough," said Luna, "but after this is over, we shall have ice cream. I shall eat all of it I desire, and thou shalt say naught of it."
"Deal," said Celestia. "Now, that... thing... It's got to be in a geosynchronous orbit. All that really means is that it's falling towards the planet from its current height in such a way that the ground is actually moving away from it at precisely the same speed it falls, right? Well, if we just minutely slow the earth's rotation, it should come straight towards us."
"But it will also rise," said Luna. "It would pass straight over our heads."
"I thought it would fall?" asked Celestia.
"Well it would..." Luna began, but stopped herself.
"Hold on a moment," she said, standing briefly upright on her hind legs to move her hooves about one another in front of her face, thinking of one of them as the earth, the other as the machine.
"Now, you've confused me," she said, dropping back to all fours, "but there will be a change in altitude; that much is certain... If only Twilight Sparkle were here... She'd like as not have a plan for just such an emergency already waiting in the wings."
"No," said Celestia, shaking her head, "I do not want her seeing this."
"The machine or the pinup?" asked Luna.
"The two of us standing here in full armor trying to figure out a first year physics problem," said Celestia, "She'd lose all faith in everything good and worthy; probably turn the poor girl evil."
"Probably," said Luna, "but more to the point, we'll have to manage the relative altitude of that device. Oh, and there will be an immediate tendency for everything that isn't nailed down -- on the entire planet -- to roll to the east," said Luna.
"Well, those are the variables I need you to control," said Celestia.
"Just make sure thou rememberest to make relative adjustments for the rotation of the heavy metals in the planet's core," said Luna. "If thou dost not, 'twould destroy the planet's magnetic field, and... You know what? This. Is going. To kill. Everypony."
"Nah," said Celestia, "We can pull it off."
"An idea:" said Luna, raising a hoof. "Let us simply speed up the machine's orbit, instead, while introducing an eccentricity that keeps the planet at the same position relative to it. It will take it only a matter of seconds to cover the distance, and it won't even cause... immediately noticeable climate change."
"Well," said Celestia, shrugging dismissively, "if you want to do it the easy way."
Derpy dipped, dived, rolled and tumbled. All around her, glowing tracer rounds, bursts of flak, ancient rockets, and lasers of every color filled the sky with the unceasing threat of imminent death. Somehow, she dodged them all. Discord, the Doctor, and Teacup all watched in silence from the forward deck of the Red Whatever. Finally, after over two minutes of this lunacy, Teacup spoke.
"I guess it's a good thing there's essentially no chance of her actually dodging all that," she said. "Otherwise, I imagine she'd be dead by now."
"Not really," said Discord. "The defenses all exist in a dimension where probability remains inert. It intersects with this one on a spatial level, but doesn't fully synchronize with our own reality. That's why they're all plaid; it's a plaid dimension."
"I see," said Teacup, noticing for the first time that every single cannon, laser, and missile launcher on the distant engine was, in fact, plaid in its coloration. "What's that mean?"
"It means normal laws of probability apply to the machine's defenses," said Discord. "More-or-less normal, anyway; it's plaid probability, which has certain peculiarities, but it's functional enough."
"So she's dodging all that on her own?" asked Teacup.
"Yes, actually," said the Doctor. "It's really quite remarkable, isn't it?"
"Well, yes," said Teacup, "but wasn't there some way that we were supposed to help her?"
"Just a minute," said Discord. "The mobile defenses haven't launched yet."
"What exactly are these mobile defenses?" asked Teacup.
"Independent, autonomous assault drones," said the Doctor, "or, if you prefer, deathbots. Thousands of them, and every one plaid. It's hideous, really."
"But that's why I lured the navy along behind us," said Discord. "The whole navy."
"Something I've been meaning to ask you about that," said Teacup. "You do know they would have chased us without your... eh... aesthetic addition to the ship, right?"
"Sure," said Discord. "Your point?"
The Doctor pointed forward, and cleared his throat.
"Excuse me, Discord, but I was under the impression that the machine was locked into a geosynchronous orbit."
"It is," said Discord. "Why?"
"Because it's coming this way," said the Doctor.
Discord and Teacup looked forward to discover that the machine had begun to close distance with them, moving closer and closer by the second.
"What in the..." Discord began, and then a tiny, literal light bulb appeared in midair above his head, and sparked to unsteady, wavering life.
"Oh yeah!" he said. "Princesses; they make physics happen, and stuff!"
"I do believe it's going to hit the ship," said Teacup, backing away from the deck railing.
"Probably not," said Discord, "because it probably should."
"True," said the Doctor. "Besides: any gravitational field they're using should carry us right along with it once the machine gets close enough."
"It should," said Discord, "but there's a more immediate problem."
"And that is?" asked the Doctor.
"We're now within range of the engine's artillery," said Discord.
The trio looked forward to see hundreds of plaid cannons and lasers beginning to track towards them. Teacup whirled quickly and shouted back down the deck.
"Helm! Come about and full ahead!"
Derpy continued to roll, bank, and twist, dodging an unthinkable barrage of impossible ordnance flung her way by the colossal machine. She was doing fairly well until it began to move toward her.
"You're kidding me!" she said, hunching her shoulders and pulling her head down as a rocket sailed within inches of her. "Nopony said it would move!"
Regardless of what had or had not been said, it was coming directly towards her, and as it closed the distance, she saw more and more of how insane it was in its design. There were smaller cogs mounted upon and within the larger cogs, circling radially around their inner circumference to no apparent purpose. The closer she drew to it, the more she could see, until she realized that it was made up of even more tiny parts than large ones, all turning upon one another, powering one another, grinding, twisting, and slipping into and out of the places where they were mounted, so that portions of the machine seemed to writhe as if alive.
There was nowhere she could enter. Not one part of the entire machine seemed stable and safe enough for her to have any hope of flying into it alive. Tiny gaps opened momentarily, but beyond them there was only more machine. There was no pathway through this behemoth. It was an impossible deathtrap, impenetrable in every way.
Her courage failing, she turned and attempted to fly away from the device, but whatever had given it the sudden boost of power that drove it forward towards her was simply too strong. It was gaining on her steadily, even as she made every effort to avoid the unceasing bombardment from its battery of turrets, lasers, and rocket launchers.
Suddenly, amid the deafening, dolorous, clanging clatter of the machine's innumerable parts, there rose a whining screech like a thousand angry saw blades all gone mad with rage. Derpy looked over her shoulder to see that the machine had opened up hundreds of small ports which had extended from within the mass of metal. Pouring from every one of them were things like pairs of mechanical insect wings. There was no proper body such as an insect would have, however, only a long, whipping tail of twisting cable and chain, tipped with a massive, spinning blade.
They swarmed towards her. Not even when the skeletal iron statues of Withers Deathray had pursued her nor when the changelings had poured from Queen Chrysalis' city had she felt so hopelessly outnumbered and doomed. She beat her wings as fast as she could, straining with all that was in her, but it was to no avail. The screeching, clockwork things, fully resembling nothing animal or mechanical, (and being also plaid) gained on her with every moment.
When the first sailed past, flinging its tail at her, she rolled starboard. The whine of the passing weapon was deafening, and left a brief ringing in her ears. When the second came from above, she dove nearly straight down, and it passed above her, though she was certain she felt its blade brush her the tip of her tail. When the third came from directly behind, she spread wide her wings, and took a lazy barrel roll that she snapped into a tighter spiral at the last moment. It passed so close she was forced to spread wide her legs to keep from losing them.
With each of these maneuvers, she lost momentum, and the engine drew nearer. Soon, she was so close that one more roll or dive would inevitably result in her plunging into the grinding, gnashing conglomeration of cogs, springs, pistons, and flywheels. To her dismay, the swarming, mechanical monsters were turning back towards her, bringing themselves directly towards her in droves that would soon converge to shred her to pieces.
Her heart sank inside her, and she grimaced with shame at her failure and fear of what she knew was soon to be her grizzly fate.
"I knew I couldn't do it," she said, and they were upon her.
Princess Celestia stared through her spyglass once more. The Red Whatever was approaching at a speed that defied everything she knew about airship structural integrity, and the weird, mammoth machine was following behind it, steadily narrowing the gap.
"It's working, Luna!" she said. "Just don't forget to account for the Coriolis effect."
"What sort of halfwit duffer dost thou take me for?" asked her sister. "'Tis not as though this is the first time I've done this."
"Well, it's just that the moon doesn't have the same sort of rotational forces, and there's no air pressure up there, so..."
"So thou thought I wouldst forget to account for the pressure gradient?" asked Luna. "It hurts that thou hast no faith in me, sister."
"It was just a reminder," said Celestia.
Luna gave a frustrated huff.
"Just make sure the planet doesn't destabilize and plunge into your wretched, orange fireball, please!"
"You're awfully Nightmare Moonish tonight," said Celestia. "You know that?"
"If I was up at noon telling thee how to do thy job, how wouldst thou feel!?"
"To be fair," said Celestia, "I would probably be at least slightly miffed."
Right then, Discord materialized beside the two of them, still wearing his pirate costume.
"Hi," he said. "I made a thing."
"We had assumed," said Luna.
"Mind telling us what it does?" asked Celestia. "Because it looks pretty evil."
"Less evil and more just apathetic to the incalculable suffering it's likely to cause," said Discord.
"That would generally qualify as evil," said Luna.
"I'm not so sure," said Discord. "Is a lion evil when it eats a gazelle, or is it just doing what a lion does?"
Luna paused to think this over, but before she could answer, Celestia spoke.
"What is that machine, Discord?" she asked calmly.
"Probability inverter," said Discord.
Neither Celestia nor Luna spoke. They both merely stared at Discord for a moment, their mouths wide agape. They glanced at one another briefly, then back to the draconequus, still not speaking. They blinked in horror, and shook their heads slightly.
"Yeah, I thought you'd say that," said Discord.
"Sister," said Luna, finally, "dost thou wish to proceed, or shall I do so in thy stead?"
"No, I've got this one," said Celestia, and she cleared her throat.
"WHY WOULD YOU MAKE SOMETHING LIKE THAT!?"
Discord recoiled at Celestia's outburst, which being given in the traditional Royal Canterlot voice, shook the entire battleship to its frame. The draconequus raised his claws as if to ward away the sheer volume of the sound, and cringed, gritting his teeth.
"Well, I didn't do it, like, yesterday!" he said. "I mean, look at that thing!"
He gestured at the immense, ancient device, still drawing ever nearer.
"That explains nothing!" cried Celestia. "There has never been a time when a probability inverter could have seemed like a good idea!"
"Hey, I just said I made it," said Discord. "I never said it seemed like a good idea."
"In fairness, he did not," said Luna.
Celestia groaned in frustration, and then sighed.
"Discord, I don't care why you made it," she said. "What do we have to do to turn it off?"
"We can't," said Discord. "It reached critical mass well before the Mesozoic era."
"Then how do we destroy it?" asked Luna. "Surely that must be possible."
"I suppose if we fired spells and cannonballs in every direction other than at the machine, there is a vanishingly small chance one of them might hit it," he said. "Other than that, any attempt to directly inflict damage on it is pretty futile, and even what damage we do inflict will only make it more efficient. Jeez; from how you talked about it, I thought you would know what a probability inverter was."
"I meant by indirect means," said Luna. "Nothing is invincible or immortal. There is no unstoppable force and there is no immovable object."
"Yes," said Celestia. "Something has to be able to stop even a probability inverter."
"Oh, I've got that covered," said Discord. "You know Derpy Hooves, Celestia?"
"Oh no," said Celestia, remembering seeing Derpy on the deck of the Red Whatever.
"Oh, you do know her!" said Discord. "Yeah; the little cross-eyed delivery mare I saw at your chamber awhile back. Well..."
"Did you drag her into this?" asked Celestia.
"Well, I just remembered my friend the Doctor mentioned her once..."
"Not the Doctor!" said Luna.
"...and from everything he said to me..."
"Why does he have to be involved in this!?" moaned Luna.
"...it just really seemed like she'd be the perfect pony..."
"You didn't, said Celestia. "Tell me you didn't."
"...to get into a machine that's proof against competence."
"You did," said Celestia. "Beautiful."
Celestia stepped to the railing and looked out at the approaching machine.
"Tell me she's not already in there."
"I hope she is," said Discord. "She's the only hope we have. I mean, personally, I'll be fine in a universe of inverse probability, but I have friends who are ponies, you know?"
"Not 'it,'" said Princess Luna.
Discord turned towards her, and his brow furrowed.
"That's cold, you know that?" he said. "No wonder you used to be a villain."
"Listen, Discord," said Celestia. "I just need to know this: what can we do to help Derpy Hooves?"
"Fight robots," said Discord.
"Excuse me?" asked Celestia.
"You heard me," said Discord. "The best thing we can do for Derpy Hooves right now is fight robots. She'll never make it through the swarm on her own."
"What swarm?" asked Celestia.
"Just keep drawing the machine closer," said Discord. "You'll hear it any second now."
"Hear?" asked Luna.
"It's a noisy swarm," said Discord. "Oh, and kudos on not destabilizing the planet's orbit with all your playing God, and whatnot. Neat trick."
"Why thank you!" said Luna.
"Wait a moment," said Celestia, turning her head to listen more closely. "What's that sound?"
"That'd be the murderbots," said Discord. "Toodles."
In an instant, he was gone.
As was his custom, Discord suddenly and simply was. Nopony on the Red Whatever even batted an eye. Teacup gave a nod, and that was all.
"So, there's a big nasty swarm of clockwork death drones coming," said the Doctor. "Ideas?"
"Battle stations!" shouted Teacup.
"Well, yes," said the Doctor, "that's one."
"Oh boy!" said Discord, rolling up his sleeves and cracking his knuckles. "Finally, an excuse to take everypony down to Discord town!"
He had barely finished his sentence when the swarm of drones poured over the ship. Cannon fire erupted from below, and all about the deck, pirates leapt, dodged, and took cover. Soon, the sound of flintlock pistols could be heard, and the smell of burnt powder filled the air. It was a magnificent display of all such things as one might expect to see in a battle of pony pirates versus plaid, insectoid murder machines.
There were great heroics all around, with pirates swinging from ropes, barrels of powder detonated with carefully fired shots, and the like. In almost any direction one cared to look, a duel of plaid saw versus flashing cutlass could be seen. It was such a magnificent display, in fact, that Discord, for all his moments-past bravado, merely stood at the deck railing watching it play out, his face overwhelmed with absolute confusion.
"Discord! What are you doing!?" shouted Teacup, bent backwards over the railing, holding off with her cutlass the strangling chains of a plaid deathbot which had somehow lost its saw blade.
"Nothing," said Discord, not even bothering to help her. "This whole scenario is so impossibly strange I cannot think of a single way to involve myself that seems at all meaningful. I mean, I could turn into something, I guess, or I could use something for a weapon that wouldn't typically be used in that way; a frozen tuna, for instance. I could even make a catapult that shot baskets full of exploding kittens, but, really, would any of that make this any weirder!?"
"Then I will use my own magic," came a heavily trilled, raspy voice from near Discord's side.
He turned to his left to see a griffon clad in the robes of a gypsy. She was ancient, and had a glass eye that stared straight forward even as the other darted this way and that. She reached into a pouch at her waist, and produced a handful of dust which she hurled at the plaid drone trying to strangle Teacup. In a flash, it turned into a swarm of tiny, plaid butterflies, which fluttered away harmlessly.
"You see what I mean!?" cried Discord. "I can do crazy, sure, but at this point, it's just a lateral shift!"
"Oh, quit whining and get involved, already," said the Doctor. "It just always has to be about you, doesn't it? If Discord's not the center of attention, he just doesn't want to play."
As he spoke, the Doctor had approached from the opposite direction of the gypsy griffon, and was fiddling with a simple tube of what appeared to be polished steel, though there were odd protrusions here and there.
"Think I've just about got this configured," he said, pointing it at a deathbot as it flew by.
There was a brief flash, and the death bot turned from plaid to polka dot. Less than two seconds later, it burst into flames and crashed to the deck, where it writhed for a moment before falling apart.
"What did you do to it!?" cried Teacup, looking at the ruined machine in an awed state of horror.
"I aligned its metaspacial physiology with a polka dot dimension, thus changing its pattern," said the Doctor. "Entities from pattern dimensions destabilize and spontaneously combust if their patterns are changed. It's science."
"No, it's not!" shouted Discord.
Before the Doctor could respond, there came the roar of cannons, and the sound of searing energy beams to either side of the ship. Dozens of ships of the Equestrian Navy had entered the fray, and both princesses were likewise involved. Killbots exploded port and starboard, and the sky lit up bright as day with the awesome power of Princess Celestia's caffeine-fueled assault. The moon flickered and brightened, and thousands of whirling discs of silver energy fell like raindrops to shred plaid metal into tiny fragments that tumbled from the sky. In a show of Princess Luna's honed control of her magic, not one of them even nearly struck the Red Whatever or any of the naval vessels.
"Cap'n," came a gruff voice, and Discord turned to see Pegwing standing beside Teacup.
"Yes, Pegwing?" asked Teacup.
"Didn't we almost fight one-a them Princesses one time?"
"Yes," said Teacup. "We very nearly did, Pegwing."
"I'm glad that didn't happen," he said.
"As am I," said Teacup. "Also, quite glad to see you're up from your nap. Would you please dispense with the remainder of these plaid miscreants cluttering up the deck of my ship?"
There were still several dozen of the plaid murderbots assaulting the pirates, and Teacup indicated them with a hoof.
"Aye," said Pegwing.
Without a further word and with no hesitation, Pegwing drew his cutlass, and charged forward. He buried his cutlass in the body of the first killbot he reached, and vaulting off of it, took another by its chain tail with his teeth. He whirled it around, slamming it into another of the machines so that both were left shattered. Another came in towards him then, but he quickly snatched the remains of his previous victim's chain tail to his right, and wound it around his foreleg by waving it in a circular motion. Just as the robot arrived to swing forward its wicked saw blade tail, he raised his foreleg, now wrapped in the chain, and fended off its attack by using the chain as a shield.
A shower of sparks flew over Pegwing's head as the blade ground into his shield of plaid chain. Showing no sign of intimidation, the pegasus thrust his left hoof forward, and stopped the saw blade cold with his own horseshoe. The sudden backlash spun the drone around on the axis of its own tail blade, and sent it flying straight down into the deck, shattering it completely. Pegwing reached down, and tore the thing's tail away from its body.
As soon as he lifted his head, he was whirling dervish of destruction, spinning across the deck. He slaughtered his foes wherever they were found, splitting them cleanly at single passes of his plaid saw blade flail.
"This is the most violent thing I think I've ever seen," said Discord, his eyes dazed and distant. "That means... it's maybe the most violent thing that's ever happened... and I'm here for it... I feel somehow privileged."
"Good, old Pegwing," said Teacup, smiling with satisfaction.
"I quit," said Discord. "I'm gonna go lie down."
Celestia soared toward the engine, the sky around her alight with the spectacle of the strange battle. She craned her neck this way and that, searching all the while for any sign of Derpy Hooves. The thought occurred to her that the pegasus might already be dead, struck from the sky and fallen into the sea far below, never to be found. The idea made her heart skip a beat and sent a chill racing down her spine.
She had been searching for several minutes when at last she beheld something strange on the side of the enormous contraption: A gear that was not turning. She flew in for a closer look, and to her great relief, she saw Derpy Hooves. The giant gear was oriented horizontally, and Derpy rested on its side, her forelegs splayed out and her head hung low, so that she stared downward between her hooves. Celestia landed heavily on the gear before her, and the startled pegasus recoiled with a shriek.
"Derpy Hooves!" said Celestia. "I was worried you were dead!"
"I think I should be," said Derpy. "There were so many of them..."
Celestia looked around, and realized that pieces of the plaid defense drones were scattered all over the huge gear, many of them stuck in its teeth and axle. Likely it was these pieces of debris that had stopped its motion. The teeth of the gears next to it ground and groaned, jerking repeatedly in an effort to restart their motion, and several huge pistons and flywheels were likewise stalled and unable to move. They shrieked, groaned, and belched steam, some of them glowing red hot from their intense friction and warping even as they continued to attempt to turn and oscillate.
"What happened?" asked Celestia.
She turned briefly to blast a plaid turret that was slowly tracking their direction. The beam completely vaporized the weapon, leaving only a smoldering stump where it had been. Derpy yelped in surprise, and rubbed at her eyes where the intense light had momentarily blinded her.
Still the pegasus did not lift her eyes to the Princess.
"Sorry," said Celestia.
"It's okay," said Derpy, staring downward. "I can still see... mostly."
"Did you destroy all these things?" asked Celestia, waving a hoof around at the many chunks of plaid destruction.
"No," said Derpy. "There were so many trying to get me all at once that they cut each other up. They all tangled into a big ball with me at the center, and it landed here."
Derpy Hooves should be dead. Celestia knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt. The gear they were standing on was a titanic piece of iron, covered in gigantic engravings and scrollwork. It was at least half a mile wide, and over half its surface was covered in ruined deathbots. For Derpy to have survived the attack of so many in the manner she had described was patently impossible, but she had done so nonetheless. As much as it pained Celestia to admit it, Discord was right: Derpy Hooves was the only pony who had any chance of stopping this machine.
"Listen to me, Derpy Hooves," said Celestia. "I need you... No; everypony needs you. You have to find a way inside this machine, and you have to stop it. I legitimately do not believe that anypony else in the entire world can do it -- Not even Luna, Twilight Sparkle, or even myself. This may be the very reason you were born... or it may just be a turn of fate. Either way, you have to be the one to do this."
"I know that," said Derpy, stilll staring down at her shaking hooves.
Celestia stepped forward and tilted her head in confusion.
"You do?" she asked, legitimately surprised that Derpy had made no attempt to talk her way out of the mission.
"Yeah," said Derpy, "I do, and it freaks me out."
At last, the pegasus looked up. Celestia was surprised to see that she had apparently been crying for some time. There were tears in her eyes, and a very inelegant stream of mucous running from one of her nostrils. She sniffled, and forced a smile. Despite her efforts to appear courageous, however, tears continued to flow, and her voice cracked several times as she spoke.
"Princess," she said, "I don't believe in myself; I never have. Even when I was little, I was always scared to try anything... even things I thought I'd really, really like to do. I always just knew somehow I'd fail, so why risk it? But lately... There's been times... a lot of times... when I was sure I couldn't do something, but somehow I did. But I didn't think I could do it -- not even once. Every single time, I was sure I just couldn't, but I did it anyway. That's why I know it has to be me; why I know I have to try. Because I look at this machine, and I'm more sure than I've ever been in my entire life that I cannot do this."
Derpy said not a further word, nor did she wait for one from the Princess. She merely turned and ran towards one of the jammed pistons. The shaft that drove its head was narrow enough that it left a wide gap around its base, and the pegasus leapt into this opening, disappearing from Celestia's sight. The Princess stood for a moment, staring after her in astonishment.
Dear Princess Celestia, thought the alicorn, and with that, she took off to rejoin the battle.
The machine was alive around her. It pulsated and thrummed with its own strange, syncopated rhythm. Dim lights glowed from the walls, and though the path before her opened up into a darkened, cavernous shaft, she could not see its end.
Derpy flew forward, surrounded by aeons of corrosion and the grinding of a million gears. A giant crankshaft spun through the center of the corridor, and several times some bow or protrusion of it swung within inches of her body. Once, a giant cog crashed through the works of the machine, and nearly struck her as it careened through the darkness. Another time, a giant spring a hundred feet high gave her no choice but to risk flying between its coils as they compressed and decompressed. Everywhere, fire roared suddenly from grates at intervals that had no predictable rhythm. It was a place of perfect, ultimate madness; a clockwork marvel where no part seemed bent to any intelligible purpose.
She was pursued every inch of the way by plaid murderbots, all swarming, diving, and rolling through the lethal, metallic labyrinth. Paths branched left, right, up, and down, and somehow the bizarre, huge, spinning shaft managed to split to follow all of them. No matter how many of these paths she took, Derpy was never in the least certain that she was headed anywhere closer to her intended destination, which itself she could not imagine.
She followed these paths until at last one gave way to a massive cavern. Here, there were no more killbots, the last of them having plowed into a wall behind her some minutes ago, but she was reminded immediately of the Doctor's promise that the machine was bigger on the inside. She could see no wall of this place, but there was light everywhere; the light of huge buckets which carried some strange fluid upward on long chains from some unseen reservoir far below, only to turn over at the top of their travel, and dump it back once more. It was the liquid itself that glowed, she realized, painting everything with a pale, blue light that still was not enough to show her how far this void might stretch.
There was nothing for her to do but choose a direction, so she did. She flew forward, wondering how far this strange, darkened place might extend into the bowels of the engine. At length, her wings grew weary, but there was nowhere for her to set her hooves. She flew downward, hoping to find some platform where she might take her rest, but none presented itself. There were only the buckets and their chains. As far as she knew, the roof of this cavern might even extend well above the place where she had seen the peaks of the chain drive mechanisms that carried the buckets. Fearfully, she found one of the buckets that was on its way down, and gently lowered herself into it so as to rest her wings for awhile. Out of curiosity, she peered over its edge, and waited to see how far it might carry her before reaching the source of the weird, glowing water. She waited for as long as she could stand without seeing any indication that she was even beginning to approach the bottom, and hopped from the bucket, flapping her wings once more.
It struck her then that she had no idea of what direction she had originally been heading. There was a moment's panic and a further moment's despair, but she knew she could not allow her fear to take hold. She chose once more a direction, and flew onward, unsure of what it was she searched for.
Eventually, after her wings had grown weary several times more, forcing her to rest herself in the buckets, being carried ever lower each time, she found a high wall of some gleaming white metal that reflected the pale light of the rising buckets and the shower of droplets they released from above. The wall was fitted together of many plates, angular and varied in their size. She scoured its surface for what might have been hours for all she knew, finally coming to a large opening very obviously meant to serve as a door. A long bridge of what appeared to be black granite extended away from it into the darkness, and it had an arched entryway, trimmed with an elaborate, curvilinear border.
She flew to the black granite bridge, and set herself down upon it. She could not guess how far it went on into the blackness, and the door seemed, insofar as she could remember, to be in the direction nearest to the machine's center. In this insane place, there was no reason for her to assume she would even find the machine's power source at its center, but there was no greater reason to assume she would not, either.
She walked towards the door, which led into a tunnel lined with more of the silvery, reflective metal. There was no distinctive feature of this tunnel other than its mirror-like inner surface, and it caused Derpy to be reflected in multiples of herself in any direction she turned other than straight down the tunnel, itself. She walked forward for some time, growing ever more certain that she had taken the wrong path, until finally the tunnel opened to a large chamber.
The chamber was made of massive panels of marble. The only light came from a strange, glowing coil that protruded downward on a long stem of blue-black steel. How far this stem rose upward was impossible to discern, for the chamber seemed to climb upward forever, its walls terminating in no visible ceiling. There was also a massive obsidian door at the other side of it, covered in more of the weird geometric patterns that she had seen on the machine's exterior. Like everything about the engine, they seemed to point to nothing and to have little rhyme or reason to their layout.
It was not the chamber itself or even the door that most unsettled her, however. The inside of the machine was like nothing she had expected, but it had left her in a state that would have made it difficult for almost anything to surprise her. The one thing that could, however, was to find something alive and biological in a place that thus far had been nothing but dead and mechanical.
At least she thought for a moment that they were alive.
All around the room, in over a dozen tubes filled with some cloudy, grayish fluid, were suspended the bodies of many different kinds of animals, and each of them was missing some part of its body or other. In only a moment, it struck her that each of these missing pieces corresponded to a part of discord's own body.
There was a lion missing a foreleg, a young dragon missing its tail, a goat missing one of its horns, and a deer missing one of its antlers. There was a snake whose mouth hung open to reveal it had no tongue, and an eagle lacking one of its legs. Indeed for every part of discord, there was an animal, but strangely, none of their bodies showed wounds where these parts had been removed. It was as if the part that was missing had simply never grown there.
Derpy came slowly to the realization that these creatures were not alive. They hung still and lifeless in their tubes, their eyes open but glassy and devoid of life. They were not a threat, nor in any state of pain. This somewhat assuaged Derpy's fear and unease, but then the dragon spoke.
"Who are you?" it asked, producing a yelp of surprise from Derpy.
It did not move in its tank or turn its head to face her. It continued floating just as it had been, its mouth moving though its eyes never blinked or so much as turned towards where Derpy stood. It's voice was like Discord's, though much deeper in proportion to its size, and it caused the entire, marble room to vibrate slightly. The sound seemed to come from everywhere at once, and Derpy wondered if it was not the room itself that made the sound, rather than the vocal chords of the pickled creature.
"Uh," said Derpy, having settled herself from where the dragon had startled her. "I'm Derpy... Or Ditzy. Whichever."
"What are you doing here?" asked the goat with the missing horn, its wavering, sheepish voice once again similar to Discord's in its own way.
"I'm looking for Discord's impossible dream," she said. "It's supposed to be what powers this machine, isn't it?"
"Correct," screeched the eagle.
"And incorrect," grumbled the lion.
Just like the dragon, not one of these creatures showed any sign of life beyond the moving of their mouths as they spoke. It made Derpy want to turn around and run away, but she was too close to turn back now.
"Incorrect?" asked Derpy, turning her head to look at all of the animals floating in their tubes.
"Precisely," bellowed a bull that was missing one of its legs.
"And imprecisely," squeaked a large bat that was a short a wing.
"You're not making any sense," said Derpy. "It can't be one and not the other! Am I right, or am I wrong?"
"You are right in coming here to search for Discord's impossible dream," said the dragon, "but you found it the moment you entered. The machine is Discord's dream."
"No, it's not," said Derpy. "He told me so himself; this machine isn't his dream, anymore."
"Then the dream has become larger than the dreamer," said the lion. "So it goes. Now, Discord himself is the dream, the machine the reality."
"That's insane," said Derpy.
"Of course," said the deer. "All worthwhile dreams seem like madness to everyone -- especially the one who dreams them. They are so absurd, in fact, that rarely does the dreamer believe it when at last they come true."
"Discord doesn't want this dream to come true!" shouted Derpy. "He sent me in here to stop it!"
"But it cannot be stopped," said the bat. "It has already come true. It has made itself real against all odds."
"The pattern will be perpetuated," said the dragon. "That is the nature of the machine; the nature of Discord's dream fulfilled."
"No one and nothing can stop the engine," said all the creatures in unison.
"Not even Discord," said the deer.
"And certainly not you," said the goat.
At this, Derpy's heart sank. Nothing the creatures were saying was helping. It all made no sense, and seemed to lead nowhere. It was like the whole, preposterous machine, itself: a collection of mindless, circular fragments of ideas and explanations that never quite linked back into a cohesive whole.
Could it be true? Could the machine's very nature really make it completely impossible for it to be stopped? Had she come all this way in vain?
"Of course I have," she mumbled to herself.
"What?" asked the lion.
"I'm just little Derpy Hooves," said the Pegasus. "I can't stop a probability whatsit."
"Correct," said the goat.
"But that's never stopped me before," she said, "so I'm gonna keep trying."
"Fool," said the bat.
"Yep," said Derpy. "Sure am; is that door locked?"
She gestured at the huge, obsidian door on the other side of the room, but there came no response to her question; only a long silence.
"Uh... yeah," the dragon finally said.
"Impenetrable to even the mightiest being that reality could ever allow to exist!" cried the eagle.
"But I'm not that," said Derpy.
"Surely then," cried the bull, "if that door can halt such a being..."
"...it can stop such an insignificant thing as yourself!" said the goat, finishing the bull's sentence.
"Absolutely!" shouted the bat.
"It will yield to no one!" exclaimed the lion.
"Mmmhmm," grunted the tongueless snake, actually nodding, though the action was stiff, and its eyes still did not move.
Derpy looked around at the circle of floating, not-quite-whole animals.
"Well, would it be a problem if I just... tried it, then?"
"YOU WILL FAIL!" roared all of the beasts.
"But you can't actually, physically prevent me from just giving it a little push?" asked Derpy.
There came the sound of grumbling and huffs from many of the tanks, but no creature's voice responded.
"Well," said Derpy, "I'm gonna try. Can't hurt."
She walked past the dragon's tank, and gave the door a push. It swung open with a creak, offering almost no resistance. She turned and looked back into the room.
"Guys," she said, "it opened. It, like, doesn't even have a lock, I think."
None of the animals responded.
"I'm gonna go on ahead, now," said Derpy. "You guys... uh... you have a nice..."
Beyond the door, Derpy found not a hallway or another bridge, but a deep, vertical tunnel. Its every surface was some kind of switchboard, electrical panel, or device of inscrutable purpose. Many of them had huge panels of tiny outlets, and from these were run many tiny cables each either connecting one board to the the next or connecting one port of a given board to another of its own. Mixed in among these were many huge panels covered in rows of glowing vacuum tubes, and still others had large arrays of colored lights which blinked on and off in repetitive patterns. There were large power switches, some of which were flipped to the on position, and some to the off. There were long reels of tape winding from one panel to the other before switching to wind back to the other, and hundreds of tiny gear boxes filled with tiny, brass gears and springs so small that Derpy could barely see them from the staircase. Large bundles of electrical cable wound their way through and in amid the many odd devices, and the whole room was cacophonous with beeps, buzzes, whirs, and whines.
The tunnel terminated only shortly above her head in a domed ceiling, but it seemed to descend for some distance below her. There was no stairwell or other means by which to descend on hoof, so she glided down on her wings. The tunnel was wide enough that she was able to keep a very shallow grade to her descent, and though the thousands of panels with all of their bizarre circuitry and clockwork continued down the shaft on all sides, she did in time find its bottom. What she saw then gave her the single most intense shock of her entire life.
It was a pony; more accurately a horse, and an alicorn, no less. She was every bit as tall as Princess Celestia, but with a pale gray coat that shimmered like antimony, and a mane that gleamed golden, even in the darkness. Her cutie mark was half a dozen iridescent bubbles that seemed to gleam and shine as if real. Though there were differences of morphology that kept the resemblance from being perfect, Derpy could have no doubt that this was herself, Ditzy Doo "Derpy" Hooves, as an alicorn.
And this alicorn version of herself was watching her descent, waiting patiently for her to land.
"Congratulations," said the alicorn Derpy as her pegasus counterpart landed. "At last you have found the thing you came seeking."
"Uh... you?" asked Derpy.
"Of course," said the alicorn. "I am your impossible dream."
"But you were supposed to be Discord's impossible dream," said Derpy; "not mine."
"Discord gave up his dream," said the alicorn. "The fact that it has ultimately come true has nothing to do with him. His dream did indeed outgrow his own ability to dream it, just as his guardians said it had."
"But those guys were liars," said Derpy. "The door was open."
"No one lies all the time," said the alicorn. "A good liar knows how much truth it takes to make a lie believable. However, among all those creatures, only the snake was a truly good liar, and Discord took his tongue."
As the alicorn spoke, Derpy looked beyond her, and saw a small control panel. It had a number of large, thick cables extending outward from it, and in its center, fixed to the top of an ornate disk with several tiny clamps and made of what appeared to be pure platinum, was an actual, physical penrose triangle -- an object that should not have been able to exist. It had corners where corners could not be, and its planes terminated against one another in ways that defied simple reality. Derpy's eyes tried to follow its lines and shape, but it was as if she could never look at the whole thing. If she looked at any one part of it and beheld it in a way that made sense, it only seemed as if some other part of it had changed.
"Is that the thing?" she asked. "Like... the dream... or... you, I guess... other me?"
"Yes," said the Impossible Derpy. "That is the thing."
"So, if I... I dunno; unplug it?" asked Derpy.
"The machine will stop," said the alicorn. "And no; its own power cannot save it from you, for you were least likely in all the universe to succeed in making it this far. Think of it; would any of the perils you have survived in getting here been at all dangerous or difficult for a true hero?"
"Probably not," said Derpy.
"And that is why they would have failed," said the Impossible Derpy. "However, there is one final defense woven into the design of the machine, and that is me."
"Are you gonna fight me?" asked Derpy. "Like, zap me with alicorn magic?"
"No," said the dream. "I am simply here to show you what you will become if you allow the machine to continue its work. Consider, if you will, precisely who you are. The very peculiarities you possess, which make it so likely for you to succeed here, also make it impossible for you to become what I am. Was this -- was I -- not your greatest dream, once upon a time?"
"Well, I guess... yeah," said Derpy. "Isn't that every little filly's dream?"
"And in a world where the unlikely becomes the inevitable, I am your future. You will ascend; become Princess Ditzy Doo. You and your magic will be what holds off the tide of destruction rendered by Discord's perfected machine. You will be the greatest and most beloved heroine of not only Equestria, but the entire universe. You, Ditzy Doo, will be not merely a goddess, but the goddess."
"But what happens to everypony else?" asked Derpy. "What will it do to Princess Celestia? Twilight Sparkle? Everypony else who's happy with their life the way it is?"
"They will become pitiful and incapable," said the dream. "Their incompetence will only make your excellence and perfection shine out more clearly for the world to worship. Those who were beautiful will become ugly and desirous of your beauty. Those who were strong will become weak and in need of your strength. Those who were wise will become foolish, and will come to you seeking wisdom. You will be not merely significant, but the only individual of any significance."
"Are you kidding?" asked Derpy. "That's ridiculous. I don't want that!"
"But this -- I -- was your impossible dream?" asked the dream.
"Well, yeah," said Derpy. "When I was like six, or whatever, but I don't have that dream, anymore. It's silly, and it would hurt everypony around me. I have grown-up dreams, now, and mostly, they're not even close to impossible. I just want to be happy, you know? I want a job I don't hate, and a normal family, and to be in love, and the kind of stuff that really isn't too much to ask. I mean, I've already got those things... or almost got them, anyway. You don't have anything I need or want.
I mean, really, are you supposed to be a temptation? Because you're not a very good one."
"Am I really?" asked the alicorn. "Think of yourself, exactly as you are. If you reject what I offer, then this, right now, becomes your ultimate, shining moment of achievement. You will never be more than a pitiful, forgotten little pegasus. You will grow old, your strength will fail, and one day, when you are unable to fly or even to walk, you will look back and beg for the chance to change this decision; to shed what you were at this moment, and to become what I am."
Derpy stared at the alicorn version of herself, and in truth she was tempted. The creature before her was a glorious, beautiful thing, better in every way, she knew, than she could ever be. If she simply allowed the machine to do what Discord had created it to do, she would have everything that every single pony in the world, in the darkest, most selfish corners of their hearts, all desired. Even Princess Luna, an alicorn herself, had wanted it, and it had driven her to become Nightmare Moon. Had Princess Celestia wanted it as well? Even she, who was the closest being in the world to being something like what this image of herself was promising; had she desired more?
Maybe she had and maybe she hadn't, but she allowed three other Princesses to exist. She had even gladly helped at least one of them find her way to being what she was. Each of them, in some way, had earned what they were. To simply wait and have it given to her -- to have it made inevitable -- was a thought that filled Derpy with disgust.
"Don't you get it?" she asked. "I could never make myself what you are; I don't deserve it."
"And why not?" asked the alicorn. "Haven't you endured enough? Haven't you saved Equestria? Haven't you been selfless and forthright in all your ways? You deserve this, Ditzy Doo. You deserve everything."
For just a moment, the alicorn's words played through warmly through the pegasus' mind. They soothed her, and for just an instant, she wanted to believe they were true.
"Everything?" said Derpy. "I deserve everything?"
"Yes," said the alicorn; everything you can imagine -- and more."
Derpy drew a deep breath, and as she began to speak, she felt her life's one fleeting hope of greatness fleeing from her.
"How about I tell you what I deserve?" she asked.
The alicorn raised an eyebrow, but did not speak.
"I deserve to not wake up in the night crying. I deserve to not have to drag myself to a job I hate every day. I deserve to love somepony without being afraid he'll leave me forever. I deserve to not be ashamed to talk to my father. I deserve to watch my daughter play in the clouds. Most of all, I deserve to just want to be me; I deserve to like myself, and I do.
I do because I can't think of anything I really have left to be ashamed of. I worked really, really hard for that. I nearly died for it, over and over again. I deserve it because I earned it -- not just because I exist. I like Ditzy Doo, and you're not her; you're a stupid, childish dream."
The alicorn looked around, obviously confused.
"So, I really can't talk you out of this?" she asked.
"Got any muffins?" asked Derpy.
The alicorn laughed at this for a moment. It was a bitter, quiet sound that echoed in the cavernous chamber. She shook her head.
"Cute," she said. "I could turn into a muffin monster," she said; "try to eat you. After all, what are the odds of Derpy Hooves being eaten by a muffin?"
"Trust me," said Derpy, "that plan does not end well for you."
They both laughed at this, and Derpy was surprised at how similar her own cold, bitter laughter sounded to that of the dream that would not be.
"Of course," said the alicorn. "Then the machine is a failed experiment; just another impossible dream."
"I guess so," said Derpy.
"What were the odds that this machine would simply deactivate itself?" asked the alicorn.
"I don't know," said Derpy. "Not very good?"
"No," said the alicorn, "not very good at all."
Derpy watched then as the, gleaming, beautiful image of herself as a Princess walked to the console, and flipped a pair of switches.
"The way out is straight up," it said, turning to face the pegasus.
The image of the alicorn was already beginning to flicker and fade, and the many lights that lined the walls of the huge chamber were dying, one by one.
"If you would," said the alicorn, "take me with you. Surely you must know somepony who has need of an impossible dream, and it would be the most awful thing I can imagine if even after so long I were never allowed to come true."
The image winked into nothingness then, and only the weird, impossible triangle was left on the pedestal. Derpy approached it, and found that despite its protean dimensions, she could somehow pick it up and carry it. She took it, and flew upward. The domed ceiling high above had opened up, and only the pale light of Luna's moon and the stars beyond them could be seen through it. They had not shifted significantly in the sky since Derpy had entered the engine. What had seemed to her like hours or days had probably been no more than a few minutes to the rest of the world.
As she rose from the top of the engine, Derpy saw no lights, and heard no grinding of gears. The whole machine had fallen dark and silent, and as soon as Derpy lifted herself free of its confines, it began to fall apart. Gear by gear and piston by piston, it tumbled into the ocean, until finally, after what must have been at least a minute, there was nothing left in the sky but the little pegasus and a few distant airships, one of them ancient, red, stalwart, and still painted with a risque image of Princess Celestia.
Princess Celestia did not send the pirates back to prison. The Red Whatever, now of historical significance for its role in a battle to save the world, was commissioned as a museum ship, and they were given a permanent assignment as its crew. They were never forced to rob, pillage, or behave in a nefarious manner again, though out of habit some still did so from time to time. To Celestia's mortification, she signed the order that the ship be preserved for posterity -- in precisely its current condition -- before its nose art had been deleted. It remains there to this day.
Discord was required to fully disclose the locations of any and all superweapons, doomsday devices, dimensional anomalies, metaphysical manipulators, and practical jokes. He is still not done cataloging them, and the equestrian military is expected to need at least another seven hundred years to track down and disarm those he has already codified.
The Doctor disappeared shortly after the battle, but has been seen in Ponyville since. When questioned about his involvement with the probability inverter, he appears to have no memory of the machine or of the incident as a whole.
Through use of the scene skip button on Discord's remote, Derpy's family was kept unaware that they had ever been paused.
Because of this incident, Ditzy Doo "Derpy" Hooves became famous, and in Canterlot Tower, there is a stained glass window depicting a tiny gray pegasus rising out of an enormous, impossible machine. She is clutching a strange object that should not exist, and her eyes are not at all misaligned or out-of-sorts. They never really were after that day; not even briefly.
Not even a year later, in fact, they stared straight ahead into a mirror in Carousel Boutique. For the second time in her life, Derpy Hooves was being fitted for a wedding dress, and that it was lovely hardly bears mention, given the skill of its maker. Here, it seemed, was the end of Derpy's many strange misadventures, but she could not have guessed that there was one more to be had.
"I'm really sorry I don't get to see you more often," said Rarity, pulling at a piece of fabric, and pinning it back tightly. "You and I should be friends after all; we know all the same ponies and we've both been involved in saving Equestria, but we hardly speak. Why, it's downright criminal!"
"It's okay," said Derpy. "I have felt your influence on my life in ways you can only imagine, Rarity."
"Such a sweet thing to say!" said Rarity, blushing slightly. "Now, I'll have to work extra extra hard on this dress. Now, hold still while I fit up your veil."
"Oh, I don't think I should wear a veil," said Derpy. "I've been married once before."
"Oh, it's just a decoration, really," said Rarity, fitting the veil to Derpy's mane and face despite her protest. "Nopony takes it that seriously these days; have a look."
She stepped from in front of the pegasus, and left her to see herself once more in the mirror. She felt herself changed somehow by her own image. She was ten years younger; hopeful again, and unburdened by the weight of the tragedies and trials she had witnessed and endured. It caused a smile to spread over her face, and tears to well in her eyes, though they did not spill.
"You see?" asked Rarity. "Absolutely stunning!"
"Yeah," said Derpy. "It really is."
And then she knew. Her eyes widened, and she gave a little gasp.
"I know who needs the thing!" she all but shouted.
"Who needs the what!?" asked Rarity, startled.
"Oh, wow," said Derpy, beginning frantically to remove the dress. "I know exactly who needs the thing!"
"What's the thing!?" asked Rarity.
"The impossible dream I keep on the shelf in my broom closet!" said Derpy.
"Excuse me?" asked Rarity.
"Never mind!" said Derpy. "Just help me get out of this dress; I have a trip to make."
Two days later, Derpy Hooves found herself once more in the sky above a place to which she had never imagined herself returning: the city of the changelings. She had of course questioned her own wisdom in coming back here, but there was a debt she felt she owed, and at last she thought she had the means to repay it.
The city, however, was substantially different than she remembered it. Whereas before it had gleamed black and glowed green, it was now darkened and red, caked all over with what appeared to be a thin layer of rust. There were no changelings to be seen anywhere; not a single one emerged from any of the tall, jagged spires.
Even Queen Chrysalis' own huge tower was derelict and ruined, and as Derpy made her way through its darkness, she began to worry that her long trip south had been in vain. It was only when she fluttered up through the half-open, sphincter-like door of Chrysalis' chamber that she found even the faintest glimmer of hope.
It was less rusted inside, though patches of dark red could still be found here and there. Even a bit of the dim, green glow she remembered remained in the sconces on the walls. The only thing that seemed at first to be missing was Chrysalis herself, but that was because Derpy had expected to find her as she had before: standing and silently awaiting her entry.
Instead, what Derpy found was the queen's malign form sprawled across her bed in almost exactly the same pose in which the pegasus last recalled seeing her, except that she was caked over with rust, and more pitted and ragged than ever. She had even rusted solidly to the weird, chitinous iron of the bed itself in several places. The wedding veil that Derpy remembered was clutched in one of her hoof-like claws, torn and frayed from how the creature had stroked and caressed it in her sickly fascination. Her mane and carapace were both corroded like copper or brass, and now caked with a thick patina. Her eyes were half open, their color faded. They neither blinked nor moved.
So for all her trouble in coming so far, Derpy had found Chrysalis dead. She felt her heart sink at this discovery, and moved towards the bed, meaning to leave the triangle there as her memorial to a loathsome creature that most ponies would likely have been glad to know was gone.
Then, Chrysalis moved.
It began with a cracking and crumbling of the rust around her joints. Rusty flakes fell away as she sat up, and her eyes rolled slowly in their sockets, their dim glow flaring only faintly brighter. Her head turned slowly with a creaking and cracking that filled Derpy more with pity than with any fear or disgust, and when their eyes met, Chrysalis blinked.
"Little pony," she said.
It was the same voice Derpy remembered, but weaker, and hollow, as if it was echoing up from within the queen's chest. She coughed twice, a sound dry and coarse, accompanied by the faint scent of burned oil or grease.
"Queen Chrysalis," said Derpy.
The changeling shook her head slowly left and right. Cracks ran through her neck at this motion, and flakes of her skin fell away.
"I am no one's queen," she said. "Did you not see my city?"
"I did," said Derpy. "What happened?"
"Nothing," said Chrysalis. "This had already begun before last you came here. Changelings die if we do not feed."
"And you didn't?" asked Derpy.
Chrysalis shook her head again, causing more flakes of rust to fall away to reveal only more pitted, black iron underneath. Very faintly, she smiled, revealing fangs the uneven gray of tarnished silver. Still more rust fell away from around the corners of her mouth.
"Do you think I do not understand myself to be an abomination?" asked Chrysalis. "I am hideous, through-and-through. I can hide what I am from the world, but never from myself. I can consume love meant for others, but can never cause another to love me for what I am. This is surely a curse, and though I am certain I must have committed some sin beyond fathom to deserve it, I cannot even recall what that sin was.
I am weary of it, little pony. Mine is an existence without purpose or meaning, gone on for so long that I can now hardly feel the misery I am owed for being what I am. If I cannot even suffer in my soul; if I cannot even experience that one paltry portion of the simple act of being, then I would rather no longer be."
"What if you could?" asked Derpy, immediately realizing she had misspoken.
Chrysalis only sat silent, but for the hollow rasp of her breath.
"Uh, let me rephrase that," said the pegasus. "What if you... didn't have to be... what you are?"
"That is a worthless question," said Chrysalis; "a meritless hypothetical."
"Well, would it hurt to answer it anyway?" asked Derpy. "What if?"
Chrysalis' expression changed not in the least, but after a few seconds, she spoke.
"It would not matter," she said. "I have no more intentions, and those I once had were proven impotent and superfluous."
Derpy reached into her saddlebag, and removed the triangle.
"Then I think this is meant for you," said Derpy. "Or maybe it's not really meant for anypony. I'm still not really sure if the world works like that... I'm just giving it to you, whether you're supposed to have it, or not."
Chrysalis stared at the strange object, but did not speak.
"It's an impossible dream," said Derpy. "I don't know how it works... how to 'turn it on' or whatever. I just know that it can make your most impossible dream come true. I know that sounds stupid and childish, but I've seen it work once before... sort of... almost."
"So, if I wanted to rule the world?" asked Queen Chrysalis. "If I wanted to create an army of a million changelings, and take every drop of love there is for myself and myself alone?"
Derpy sighed as she sat the object on Chrysalis' jagged, pitted desk. She smiled faintly at it, and shook her head.
"That's a risk, I guess," she said, "but I don't think that would be an impossible dream for you. In fact, I think the only reason you haven't already done it is that your heart wasn't in it."
"My heart?" asked Chrysalis. "What a fanciful delusion; I have no such thing, and among all your kind you know that better than most."
"I don't believe that," said Derpy. "There's one in there somewhere. It's just a little rusty; that's all."
At this, very faintly, Chrysalis smiled again, more broadly than before. Once again, the rusty, iron skin around her mouth cracked and shed away in tiny flakes. A low, grinding chuckle rose up from inside her.
"A heart of rust, frail and crumbling," she said. "Fitting, but still more than I possess... or deserve."
She coughed again, and this time she also wheezed, a grating sound so harsh that Derpy cringed at it the way she would have an unshod hoof raked over a chalkboard. It ended in a harried sigh that filled the room with even more of the sickly, burning odor of her breath.
"Still, I wonder what it might be like," said the dying queen, "were it merely a heart of rust."
It was only slowly that Derpy became conscious of a sound. It was a chorus of crackling, like the shattering of ice cubes dropped into a drink on a hot summer's day. Then, the thick coat of iron and corrosion that covered the changeling's body gave way. It crumbled, falling in huge chunks that shattered as they struck the floor and bed.
For a moment Derpy was certain that the changeling had simply died, and was crumbling to pieces, but soon she became aware of something within the rusty shell that had been Chrysalis' chitinous, iron skin. It was a creature smaller than the changeling had been, though still tall for a pony: a unicorn mare, her coat the dark gray of iron and with a mane the green of tarnished copper. Upon her flank was a heart, rendered as if it were forged of ancient steel; jagged, pitted, and speckled with red rust.
Soon, the final pieces of her corroded skin sloughed away, and the penrose triangle likewise crumbled into red, powdery rust where it rested on the desk. She sat then, only breathing quietly in the dim light of the chamber, the unicorn that had been Chrysalis. When at last she spoke in a voice no longer insectoid, frail, or unwholesome, Derpy Hooves listened just as closely as she watched, her two eyes fixed firmly forward.
"What would it be like to love and be loved," asked the unicorn, iron-gray, "if only with a heart of rust?"
