Twilight Sparkle returns to Equestria half a million years after leading the last living ponies into space.
Twenty thousand years into Twilight Sparkle's rule, the burden of the countless trillions of ponies killed Equestria. Depleted, polluted, and dead, the planet was abandoned. The Goddess Twilight Sparkle and her alicorn compatriots led the surviving ponies to a new life among the stars.
Ponies advanced. They evolved, and grew. A golden age of peace and prosperity occurred that lasted for thousands of millennia.
But that was long ago. Before evolution turned against them, and before the deadly Mortality Virus raged through their ranks. Now, at the twilight of ponykind, their final hope is for a small crew to return to their long-dead and long-forgotten homeworld one last time.
They stood in silence. Not one among them spoke, and their movements were slight and deliberate. They were waiting, watching, and listening to the slight change in what in ages past might have been referred to as an engine.
These creatures were tall and slender, with bodies that had been shaped by countless millennia of evolution in microgravity. Each of them was a quadruped with a similar nearly pearlescent coat in shades that varied from white with the most extreme subtlety. Each bore a pair of wings on their back, although none among them could fly. Their faces were long and severely narrow, with enormous black eyes that caught the glow of the room’s dim white light and reflected it as they turned. Their manes were long and shimmering, and from each of their foreheads stood a horn that would never know the sensation of magic. They were alicorns, but none among them had even the slightest conception that this state was anything unique.
Suddenly, the frontal display ignited, filling the curving front of the room with an image that pushed away the mathematics and symbols that had represented the galactic void beyond the vessel. An alarm sounded, its volume rendered quiet by the ship’s systems. Glaring red text scrolled across the screen.
“Captain,” said one of the alicorns, turning her head toward the center of the bridge, the holograms over her eyes already shifting as she did, “it is a signal. On low-phase transmission bands. The origin is several deep-space buoys.”
The captain swiveled toward the screen, suspended and pulled by an arm from that contained the interface that linked her brain directly to the ship’s systems. In this state, her body had long-since atrophied, and in all likelihood she had lost the ability to walk decades ago. This, of course, did not bother her in the slightest. It was a sacrifice she had willingly made, giving up something she had never valued much in exchange for a freedom that so very few could possibly understand.
She looked at the text. “Can you translate the message?”
“Not immediately. The language predates the dialects in our database. I will need to perform a manual analysis- -”
“Don’t bother,” said a voice. Every member of the bridge crew- -there were only three, excluding the captain- -stiffened at the sound of it, a far lower and stronger voice than their own. Their eyes, being large enough to see backward over their shoulders, swiveled toward the rear door to witness the pony who had just entered.
She was like them, but only in that she was an alicorn too. Otherwise, she could not have been more different. Her body was almost a third their height, with limbs that were far stockier and stronger than theirs. Her coat, so much coarser than theirs, was a shade of violet so dark that it dazzled their sensitive eyes, and all among them knew the legends that her horn and her wings both still functioned perfectly.
The captain did not turn, both out of dignity and the fact that her own eyes were nearly blind, sacrificed in favor of the sensors that her ship provided her. “Goddess,” she said, still watching the scroll of red text, “your thoughts?”
“It’s Equestrian Universal.”
One of the other alicorns- -her name was Starry Nebula- -actually used her slender neck and turned her head toward the divine being that had entered their presence. She bowed deeply, but barely had lifted her head before asking her question with great urgency. “That language- -”
“Has not been used in nearly four hundred thousand years? I know.”
“But the text- -”
“It is a warning. ‘By the divine authority of the Four Princesses of Equestria, this area is hereby declared in a state of eternal quarantine. No ship may enter, for no ship has reason to approach this sacred place. All those who do not heed this warning will face a dire fate’.”
“How long winded,” said the captain, clearly not amused by the statement or by the sudden nervousness that seemed to overtake her crew.
“Captain,” said another of the crew, nervously. He was a male, although sexual dimorphism had long since ceased in his species and he looked almost identical to the mares around him. His name was Golden Star. “I am detecting several energy signatures coming from the buoys and the surrounding asteroid debris!” He turned suddenly, something that was somewhat dangerous for a pony with hollow bones. “The readings are consistent with weapons!”
“Weapons?” said Inky Nebula. She seemed gravely concerned as well. “No weapons have existed since the Last War! We do not have protocols to counterattack!”
“I am already increasing the hull density and assuming defensive geometry,” said the captain, calmly. “These buoys are ancient, nearly prehistoric. If they fire at all, that should be enough. I will not even need to engage the external field architecture.”
“You don’t even need to change the hull density,” said the violet alicorn. She stepped forward toward the rim of the bridge, and summoned several large holograms around her. The others watched in awe as she interfaced with the ship manually, using the telekinesis from her glowing horn to rapidly manipulate the circular panels surrounding her.
The alarm klaxon suddenly stopped, and the red text vanished.
“The energy signal is dissipating,” said Golden Star, sounding more amused than relieved. He turned to his left. “Goddess, if I may?”
“I deactivated the system.”
“And you knew how to do that?”
She turned to him. “Of course I know how. I built it.”
They all paused, because they all knew the implication of what that meant, and the weight it carried in this long-forgotten sector of the universe. The third crewmember, an almost green colored mare named Heliotrope, turned slowly toward the others. “After all this time…I am indeed surprised that the defense grid is still function.”
“Only barely. I remember creating a lot more buoys than this. Many of them must have been destroyed, or failed, I guess. Although, for your own edification, the weapon system relies on condensed magic. Even after this much time, if just one of the array had fired, the hull density would hardly have mattered. I would have been left to complete the mission all on my own.”
The others stood in silence, now suddenly realizing how close they had come to a grievous fate. The captain lowered her head in the direction of the goddess, the translucent and luminescent beams connecting to her skull glimmering from the motion. “Then I thank you, Goddess Twilight Sparkle, for protecting my ship and my crew from my own poor judgement.” She paused. “However…for future reference, I would appreciate being briefed on potential hazards to my vessel BEFORE I encounter them.”
“There was no hazard,” said Twilight. She turned to the captain, mostly without expression. “I deactivated them. I told you that.”
The captain stared at her for a moment, but decided that getting into a urination contest with a goddess was hardly appropriate. There were more pressing concerns.
“You don’t like me here,” said Twilight.
“You are our honored guest.”
“That neither denies nor confirms my assertion.”
“No,” said the captain, somewhat curtly. “It does not.”
Twilight looked at her with the same blank, disinterested expression that she held most of the time. The captain stared back, both with her read eyes, as bad as they were, and the sensors she had close to her physical body. Eventually Twilight just shrugged. “It is your ship, captain.”
The captain acknowledged this with silence. The sound of the engine then began to change.
“I am taking us into the system,” she announced. Her tone was distantly grim.
The room fell silent. Each of them turned their attention toward the front of the room, where the captain had elected to display their surroundings. The representation was not that of passing words, at least not in a realistic sense. The lack of light and the distance of objects made doing so pointless; all it would appear as was inky blackness surrounded by an infinite sea of stars, many of which had in the distant past been the domain of ponies.
The information that came through was displayed purely mathematically, as a system of numbers and equations that showed the nearly systems in the way that the captain perceived them. All present, of course, were capable of deciphering the text with ease. Through it, they saw the passing of the system’s outer planets: a deep blue gas giant, the orbital mining platforms long since having sunk into its crushing atmosphere or drifted out of orbit into the nothingness of space; a larger gas-planet, its surface coated in eternal storms in shades of red and brown, and its moons still surrounded by the long-dead remnants of deep-space relay beacons, infrared telescopes, and the hulking skeletons of long-dead ships; a small red word, it’s atmosphere so tantalizingly close to being livable but with soil that was profoundly barren.
Then the ship slowed as they reached their destination. They came into orbit around another planet, and Twilight felt her immortal heart quicken in pace almost imperceptibly. With the ship falling into orbit around it, the planet lingered in view, giving all those present a long time to silently contemplate it.
It was a small planet, at least compared to the several gas-giants in the outer system. Its surface, though, was at least as diverse and beautiful. Instead of red and yellow bands and storms, though, its color was in shades of green, blue, and white, and its storms were sickly yellow. What was left of a moon orbited the world, and even from a distance it was possible to see the indications of the long-abandoned temples and cities that were in the process of being consumed by craters- -both new, from meteors, and old, from something far more deadly.
“Beginning scanning,” said Inky Nebula after a long pause. Her visor shifted as her own internal sensors merged with those of the ship. Her holographic panels were illuminated with the raw results, and she mentally computed the values to decipher the meaning. “Spectroscopy indicates that the atmosphere is dominated by nitrogen, oxygen, and carbon monoxide, with substantial contribution of hydrogen sulfide, sulfur dioxide, water vapor, and argon. Particulate matter is high, showing strong evidence of long-halflife radionuclides.”
“I am detecting significant contamination with uncontrolled magic,” said Golden Star. “I recommend a high orbit, and the activation of the first shell.”
“Noted,” said the captain, changing course to fall in line with his recommendation.
“Further,” said Heliotrope, “I am detecting signs of life.”
They all turned to her. “That was not in the briefing,” said the captain. “This planet is supposed to be dead.”
“Apparently not,” said Heliotrope. “Preliminary readings indicate the presence of active plant life, with early estimates suggesting over seven thousand species. Exact enumeration and identification will take more time, but from this data I am certain that it supports a thriving ecosystem.”
“Even though the average surface temperature is well below freezing,” said Inky Nebula.
The captain turned to Twilight. “This changes things.”
“This changes nothing,” replied Twilight, not taking her eyes off the readings. “I predicted that this might occur. The mission remains unchanged.”
The captain acknowledged her silently, and then turned back to the planet. She too watched the data pass, although through the eyes that technology had given her, she was privy to a view of the world below in far greater detail that any other pony would ever be, perhaps for the rest of pony history. The weight and meaning of this was not lost on her.
“There it is,” she mused. “After all this time, it’s still here. No living pony has ever set foot on that world.” She turned to Twilight. “Save for you. And the Divine Sisters. You are the last among us who remember what the soil of Equestria feels like under your hooves.” She looked back to the planet, to the world that was to this day known as Equestria. The others did as well- - not just the bridge crew, but every living pony on the ship, each staring at it with their own sensory appendages.
Not one of them knew it, apart from what was told in the legends- -but all of them understood. This was the planet not of their birth, but of the birth of their species. This was where pony kind had been born, and from where it had spread out through the stars- -only to return one last time on the edge of its final demise. ��dZ]�-��^�e
Twilight moved through the ship rapidly. Moving quickly was something she had become adept at; at one time, it had been critical. The ponies alongside her were far taller than she was, meaning that their stride was much longer. In more recent evolution, though, their speed had become slower and their motions more delicate. Their gate was beautiful in an aesthetic sense, but gravely worrying to one who understood the cause for the change in pace as Twilight did.
The pony that moved beside her, though, did not take steps as she moved through the high white halls, passing the occasional crewmembers as they worked. Twilight walked alongside the captain, who represented herself as a floating, translucent hologram. Though her actual body was capable of motion through the ship, she had grown to prefer this method.
“Goddess,” said the captain, her translucent and hovering body floating ahead with her limbs oddly still. “I have to insist.”
“No,” repeated Twilight, sternly. She was beginning to become annoyed. “Absolutely not. We cannot risk exposing the environment to the Mortality Virus. Even the slightest release would doom everything we came here to accomplish, especially since there is an ecosystem down there.”
“That very ecosystem you are so insistent on protecting is part of the problem. The planet is already toxic, but it would appear that the life that remained behind has adapted in ways that ponies could not.”
“I already told you,” snapped Twilight, “that does not change the mission parameters.”
The captain moved her hologram in front of Twilight. “It does not change the mission goal, but the parameters are completely different. We have no idea what is down there.”
“Which is exactly why I have to go alone. Even in a containment suit, one scratch and the planet is contaminated. Did you even stop to wonder why I’m here? The Tribunal is immune to the Mortality Virus. I’m the only one who can go down there without risking infecting the planet.” She stepped forward, phasing through the captain’s hologram. “Besides. I’ve done the math. Equestria’s gravity would be fatal to any modern pony.”
“Except for you, no doubt.” She turned to face Twilight, and then raised her voice slightly. “But I still cannot allow this.”
“You would stop me?” said Twilight, slowing and looking over her shoulder. “You would defy the will of a god?”
“If it means protecting my lord from harm, yes. Twilight Sparkle, you are not immortal, but not immune to harm.”
“I already told you- -”
“That you cannot take a living pony alongside you. I know. I may be young in comparison to you, but I am not a fool. You will be assigned a remnus.”
As she said it, the morphiplasm of the ship shifted, creating a tall arching door. A pony stepped through, and phased through the captain’s hologram, for a moment meshing with the image of the captain’s face and neck.
The pony- -although the term was only used loosely- -was in proportions not unlike the others that crewed the vessel, although she was visibly taller, if only slightly. Her body was just as tall ans slender, and her hooves came to graceful points. At the same time, though, she lacked wings, a horn, or any sort of mane. Her unblinking eyes were not black, but white with blue pinpricks for pupils, and her body was pure white. On close inspection, though, it was apparent that she had no coat, and that there were thin black lines where the hard surface of the plates in her carapace met.
Twilight nearly burst out laughing. “A remnus? Captain, I’m not going down there to repair a starship reactor!” She lost control of her laughter and snorted loudly. “Now you’re just being ridiculous! I’m a pure alicorn, a living god! And this thing is supposed to protect me? HA!”
Twilight’s indignant mirth was immediately quelled when the captain’s hologram suddenly shot forward, moving her face low to meet Twilight’s. It was quite apparent that she was not amused.
She spoke with a stern voice. “As I said. I am not a fool. Your physical protection is a grave concern, but not my primary issue.”
Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “Then what is, captain?”
“For the sake of honesty: I am concerned about the state of your mental health.”
The sound of Twilight’s jaw clenching was almost audible. “You are going to want to choose your next words very, VERY carefully, captain.”
“That planet down there. Equestria. We understand its weight, in an academic sense. The origin of all ponies. But to us, it’s just another planet. Plants, rocks, snow, oceans. The meaning has grown distant in the intervening hundreds of millennia. But not for you.”
“You have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Yes, I do. Because I’ve already experienced it. Have you ever heart of Arc Platform A6?”
“I can’t be expected to know every ship in the armada.”
“Of course. There is no need for you to bother. But for the sake of my argument, it was my home. I was one of the last three children born there.”
“The last? Then it was in decline.”
“As are most, as you well know. But I grew up there. I played in its gardens, wandered its systems, watched our star, fell in love…I spent my first fifty seven years- -my childhood- -on that ship.”
“So what?”
“And then I came back. One thousand years later, just after my commissioning surgery. I was in charge of the salvage operation.”
Twilight said nothing. She was not sure what to say, and although she refused to admit it, she knew where the captain’s line of reasoning was headed.
The captain continued. “Do you know what it was like? That ship, empty…every friend I had, every family member, dead, in some cases with no pony left to bury them. The halls I played in as a child rotting and decayed, the gardens I loved so dearly nothing but dry sticks and dead trees, the systems I had spent my childhood hearing having ground to a halt with nopony maintaining them.”
“And every second you hold me here with this meaningless drivel, more of our armada continues to decline. That is the reason we are here.” Twilight began to turn away.
“Goddess,” said the captain, sharply, “you spent much, much longer than one and a half centuries on Equestria. I know you understand, even if you refuse to admit it. Do you really want to be down there, all alone, perhaps for years or even decades with nothing but your own thoughts?”
Twilight stopped, but did not turn immediately. She wished she could tell the captain that she had already spent far longer than that with her own thoughts and the weight of an immortal life worth of regret and hard choices. She did not let her professionalism falter, though, even if she knew that the captain was right.
Then she reversed, and stepped toward the remnus, which had been waiting patiently.
“Name?” demanded Twilight Sparkle.
“Silken Dream,” replied the remnus, her tone pleasant and mildly cheerful with the exact tone and inflection that all of her kind seemed to have. “Gender female.”
“Your organic persistence rating?”
“Point zero one six.”
Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Point zero one six? What’s your sterility duration?”
“One hundred and eighty seven.”
Twilight paused for a moment, somewhat taken aback. “That is a very high number.”
“I would assume,” said Silken, “that a higher number would be more idea for this application, no?”
“I chose this one for a reason,” said the captain. “I have had my technicians check her in triplicate. She is not infected, not even in the slightest. There is no risk of her disrupting the native ecosystem.”
Twilight inspected the machine. She did not seem enthused, because she was not. She had been anticipating that she would perform the surface work alone, and carrying another being with her- -even a remnus- -was not something she wanted to have to deal with.
The captain seemed to notice her hesitation. “I suppose I cannot force you,” said the captain, “but your safety is my own personal concern. But my professional dedication is toward the completion of this mission. And to be blunt: if you go alone, you are risking our success just as much as you would be if you brought down one of us.”
With a long sigh, Twilight acquiesced. “Fine,” she growled. “I could use some on-ground scanning equipment.”
Silken smiled, but the captain did not. She rarely if ever did. “Good,” she said. “Take any equipment you need.”
Twilight began walking. Silken followed at an appropriate distance. “I was already going to anyway.”
The mission was to begin immediately. Twilight proceeded to the bowels of the ship, seeking out a node of the ship’s central morphiplasm system. When she reached it, she stopped, looking up at the stem units overhead, a system of pale violet orbs emerging from the curving structure of the ship’s internal surface. She reached up and touched one, engaging the appropriate interface spell. The morphiplasm responded almost immediately, and the stem unit shifted, melting and surging forward over her body, assembling itself into what was in a sense a miniature version of the ship itself: a thin veneer of material that meshed with Twilight’s skin and nervous system, connecting to the aetherite jewelry she wore and forming a protective suit around her.
For a moment, Twilight’s vision faded as the substance covered her face. Then it parted, forming a transparent plate for her to see out of. She took a breath as its rebreather system came online, smelling the familiar subtle scent of recirculated air.
Twilight looked up at Silken, who appeared confused. “What?” she demanded.
“Is the protective suit really required?”
“I may be immortal,” said Twilight, “but I still need to breathe.”
Silken pointed at her back. “Yes, but with your wings covered, you will not be able to fly.”
“I won’t need to fly,” said Twilight. “It’s a useless ability anyway.”
“I see.” She turned toward the dead-end of the empty hallway. “I am equipped to pilot a mitotic section,” she said. “Shall I request one, or do you require more time?”
“It won’t be necessary.”
Silken appeared even more confused. “But then how will we get to the planet?”
“I’m going to teleport us,” said Twilight, charging her horn. “I’m locking on what I think is the most magically charged focus on the planet. It’s difficult to tell with the fallout, but I think it would be a good place to start.”
“This ship is equipped with a high-throughput teleportation system- -”
“I brought you here as equipment,” snapped Twilight, “not to constantly second guess me.”
“Oh,” said Silken. “My apologies, lord. I will be quiet now.”
Twilight grumbled, already regretting having bothered to take the machine with her. There was still time to send her back to join the rest of her kind that populated the bowels of the ship, but that would doubtless cause no end of complaints from the ship’s captain.
Instead, Twilight began the complex mental calculations necessary to engage a teleportation spell. It only took her a fraction of a second, and she charged her horn. “Are you ready?”
“No.”
“Too bad.”
There was a flash of light- -and Twilight felt herself thrown to the cold, snow-covered ground with so much force that she was sure she felt something crack inside her. The wind was knocked out of her, and although the impact had not been enough to cause a concussion through her morphiplasm armor, the strain of whatever she had just passed to left her nearly unconscious. Something had gone wrong with the teleport, and it had gone wrong quickly. The mental strain had been incredible, and had the spell been performed by any other pony- -even though a pony capable of using even simple magic had not been born in countless millennia- -it would surely have resulted in nothing more than a foul-smelling mist exiting at the spell’s final destination. Even then, the spell had been botched so badly that no living creature save for an immortal alicorn could have survived it.
In her semi-conscious state, Twilight felt herself lying still, her suit keeping the extreme temperature from harming her. She still felt cold, though, because of the failed spell. It made her so very tired, and even when she felt herself being dragged she did not wake up. She instead felt herself fading and entering the alicorn equivalent of sleep.
Then, suddenly, she gasped and shot up, just in time to see Silken pulling back her hoof and the medical device morphing back into a pointed hoof.
“What did you do to me?” cried Twilight.
“I administered medical care consistent with what is known about pure alicorn biology. You received a severe feedback injury- -”
Twilight stood up, and nearly fell back to the ground. Her suit compensated, constructing elements to provide further support and to augment her strength. This only disrupted her motion, though, and caused her to list suddenly. The problem was not with her muscles, but with her nervous system.
“I can’t- -where am- -I- -”
“Panic is a side effect,” stated Silken cheerfully.
“Of the medicine you gave me? Without my consent, I might add?”
“Or from the injury. Or the impact.” Silken shrugged. “Your biology is not exactly well-known, and I am not a doctor.”
“Well, that certainly makes me feel a lot better.”
Silken smiled. “I am glad to hear it.”
“I was being sarcastic.”
Silken’s expression fell. “Oh. In the future, please reference the use of sarcasm before deploying it, for the sake of proper user interface.”
“I will sarcasm when I want to sarcasm!” Twilight paused, wondering if that word was really a verb. Even if it had not been, it was now. She was a god after all.
In something of a huff, she walked to the front of the cave. It had been sealed with a large, heavily corroded rock. It weighted at least four tons, but Twilight easily levitated it and tossed it aside with her magic before stepping outside. Her hooves almost immediately crunched on the ice, and even through the morphiplasm that surrounded her body Twilight could feel the strong and biting wind that rushed over the land.
What struck her first was the color. The world was green, but not in the same way that the artificially maintained gardens of the Empire were. Instead, the plants that grew were a harsh and nearly gray color, slightly reflective but so low in saturation that they looked like some cheap copy of plants. In the region they had landed, the trees had no branches and grew at identical acute angles to the ground, all pointing in the opposite direction of the wind. Many of them were immensely tall, but all of them were spaced widely. The spines that served as their leaves were rigid and violent looking, and they did not move in the wind.
Below the palm-like trees there was nothing but thick snow and ice, although even that was green, covered in a soft and almost powdery substance that nearly resembled grayish and unpleasant moss- -or mold.
Silken approached silently from Twilight’s side. Despite the immense weight of her mechanical body, her feet left no impression in the snow save for inch-wide, perfectly round circles. “So this is Equestria.”
“It didn’t used to look like this.”
“What did it look like the last time you were here?”
“When I left?” Twilight stared out at the alien trees for a long moment. “There was nothing green. And nothing alive.”
Silken stared out at the landscape, and a thin holographic band appeared over her eyes. “My analysis indicates that the air temperature in this area is 267K.”
“Only five degrees colder than the ship,” noted Twilight.
“It also indicates that while heavily contaminated, the air is breathable.”
“No,” said Twilight, suddenly. Silken seemed somewhat surprised, and Twilight cleared her throat. “I’d rather not.” She tried to change the subject. “Where are we?”
“Standing in front of a small cave.”
Twilight looked up at Silken with an expression meant to convey the exact opposite of amusement. “I mean, where are we specifically? Contact the ship.”
“Working.” Silken slowly raised her graceful artificial head to the sky, and two narrow bands of hologram were projected over her eyes. She looked at them, and through them, slowly turning her head to find the location of the starship in high orbit around the planet. Above, the sky was dark and gray, and the atmosphere was roiling with the storms that brought the extreme wind that had had apparently resulted in the forest outside growing nearly sideways. Although there was no rain and only the slightest falling of snow, lightning of many colors illuminated the dark clouds above.
After a moment, she spoke. “There is a problem.”
“A problem? What kind of problem?”
“The atmosphere is heavily contaminated with magic fallout. I am detecting dimeritium, trimeritium, extreme concentrations of the zeroth element, superperiotic particles, magically charged material, as well as various sorts of eddy currents in a hypercomplicated system. And neutrinos. So many neutrinos! With my currently installed communication array, I cannot penetrate the ionosphere.”
Twilight stared at her in disbelief. “WHAT?!”
“The atmosphere is heavily contaminated with magic fallout. I am detecting dimeritium- -”
“I heard what you said!”
“Then why did you ask me to repeat it?”
“I didn’t, you idiot- -” Twilight groaned loudly, putting her hoof against her throbbing head. “ARG! The captain forces me to take you, and you can’t even connect me to the ship?!”
“Apparently not.”
“How am I supposed to order additional equipment? Or access the ship’s scanning system?” Twilight stared up at the sky. “There isn’t supposed to still be fallout! The storms should have stopped millennia ago!” She groaned, this time more softly. “Forget it. I’m going to teleport back and get some real communication equipment- -”
“I strongly recommend against that!” said Silken very rapidly.
Twilight was somewhat taken aback. “Why not?”
“The interference field is most likely bipolar. The fact that we are beneath and encircled by it increases the interference of exiting signals.”
“So what? I’m not trying to send a signal.”
“No, but it also apparently interferes with your teleportation. Teleporting in rendered you unconscious for eight months. Teleporting out could be magnitudes more dangerous.”
“Well, I expect there to be some risk, but if- -” Twilight suddenly froze, and then whirled around to face Silken. “EIGHT MONTHS?!”
“Yes,” said Silken, as though she was confused as to why Twilight did not already know that. “Technically eight months three weeks four days seven yours and fifty six minutes. And thirty seven seconds.”
“I was out for EIGHT MONTHS?! And you didn’t think to, oh, I don’t know, LEAD with that information?”
“I did not know it was relevant. If it was so important, you ought to have asked.”
“I kind of expect somepony to tell me when I’ve been sleep for almost a year!”
“It is only two thirds of a year. It took time. The injuries were substantial. I had to rebuild part of the internal architecture of your brain!”
Twilight’s eyes widened and she grabbed her head. “You- -you performed brain surgery? On- -on ME?!”
“There appears to be nopony else here on whom I could perform such a surgery,” said Silken, as though it were obvious.
“But you- -you just told me you’re not a doctor!”
“No. Nor am I programmed as one. My normal occupation is as mathematical support for the team that maintains the ship’s skeletal structure.” She shrugged. “So I had to extrapolate slightly.”
“Extrapolate! By- -by how much?!”
“Your tone suggests that you may not want me to answer that question.”
Twilight grabbed her head. She knew that regardless of what this apparently quite defective remnus had done to her, there would be no permanent damage. She had suffered far worse head trauma than a botched surgery in her long life, and experience had time and time again proven that even severe ablation of her brain would inevitably heal. It was just another aspect of alicorn immortality.
“If you teleport, the damage could be far worse,” warned Silken. “Years next time. Or even decades.”
“I can’t afford decades,” said Twilight. “I can’t even afford years!”
“Then you cannot teleport.” Silken looked to the sky. “If I am correct, though, it is likely possible that the ship is capable of picking up your magic signature from its side. They know where you are, and are watching- -even if they cannot help.” She paused, and the holograms around her eyes expanded.
“Fine,” grumbled Twilight. “Then process my initial request. Where are we?”
“I cannot identify that without access to the ship’s sensors.”
“Try accessing the ancient global positioning network. If you’re right, it should still be possible to pick up a signal transmitted from outside the planet.”
Silken paused. “Will any of the satellites still be transmitting?”
“We won’t know until you do what I told you, will we?”
“Oh. I suppose not.” The holograms around Silken’s eyes widened as she looked to the sky. “Working,” she said. After a few moments, she stopped. She projected a holographic miniature of Equestria between herself and Twilight. “Yes. You were correct. The signals were very weak, but I established a region.”
A space appeared on the holographic globe, and Twilight stared at it. “That’s almost a quarter of the continent,” she groaned. “Can’t you get any better resolution?”
“Yes. But it would require lying to you.”
Twilight frowned deeply at her, and then stepped out into the mold-covered ice and snow. “Fine. We have no support, and we don’t know where we are. I can still deal with this.” Twilight charged her horn, engaging a complex spell that represented itself on magical constructs surrounding her that closely resembled the type of holograms she had used before on the ship. The spell was oddly difficult to perform with the interference from the atmosphere, but far from impossible for the god of magic.
“What are you doing?” asked Silken.
“Our exact location is more or less irrelevant. My teleportation spell only went off-course by seven percent. We are still near the most powerful magical signature from the planet’s surface.”
The weather began to worsen, but not substantially. It had grown colder- -although through her suit Twilight could not technically feel it- -and the sky had grown nearly as dark as night, shading the world with a strange blue light that cast deep shadows into the increasingly deepening woods. It had started to snow, but not strongly. The entire environment was silent, save for the sound of wind and distant thunder.
“So,” said Twilight, her voice sounding almost deafening when all she had to compare it to was the sound of snow falling or the crunch of her own hooves through the icy forest floor. “What have your studies of the planet found so far?”
“I have not conducted any studies.”
Twilight stopped. “You’ve been here for eight months! What do you mean you haven’t conducted any studies? What, did you just sit in that cave?”
“Yes,” said Silken, as though she saw nothing wrong with that.
“Eight months, in that cave, and you never once thought to go outside and survey or get readings of any kind? You didn’t even check our location!”
Silken turned to Twilight, looking slightly less amused than was normal for her. “I’m afraid you have misunderstood my nature. I am not a pony. I am a remnus. My kind does not have the capacity for independent volition.”
“Well where was that lack of volition when you cracked open my skull like an egg?!”
“I do not know what an ‘egg’ is. And there was no cracking, I cut it. Very smoothly. For the most part. And dearth of volition is not the same as lack of initiative. I can interpret actions toward a set mission goal, but only to a limited extent. In this case, it was the captain’s order to protect you. You never gave me specific instructions on what to do on this planet once we got there.”
“Great. So what’s the point? I have to tell you to do every little thing?”
“I am trying my best,” said Silken, somewhat harshly. She regained her cheerful tone almost immediately as she continued. “You have not dealt with my kind, have you?”
“Not much,” said Twilight. “I’ve never had use for you. And would it be offensive to say I find your existence more than a little disturbing?”
“Well, I am a machine, so probably not.”
Twilight stopped at the edge of a slope. The soil was becoming increasingly treacherous and rocky. The palm-like trees were fading, being replaced by thick, gnarled columns and leathery vines that united the various sorts of brush in the area. Due to the wind, almost nothing had branches, though, which made moving beneath the foliage easy.
Rather than waste time picking her way down the slope, Twilight summoned a levitation spell around herself and drifted gently down over the rocks. Silken followed, gracefully leaping from stone to stone with exacting precision and surprising speed. Once at the bottom, the pair began to walk in silence. Twilight half expected Silken to start humming a tune, but she instead made no noise.
It was in fact quite maddening. There was no sound from around them, and Silken’s body moved in absolute silence leaving only a thin trail of dots as hoofprints. While the ponies in orbit around them were hundreds of thousands of years removed from an age where ponies had been hunted through dark forests on this very world, Twilight was not. Even after all that time, she felt her pony instincts rising to the surface. Something was wrong. Everything was too quiet.
“The mission,” she said at last. “The one I am here to complete. Do you know what it is?”
“I am aware of the basics. You are attempting to find a cure for the Mortality Virus. We were dispatched to Equestria because it is believed that if you could recover genetic material from primeval ponies, you would be able to synthesize a cure.”
“That is not entirely true.”
Silken looked surprised. “That is what the captain programmed me with. Did the captain lie to me?”
“No. She told you exactly what she knew.”
Silken processed for a moment. “Are you implying that the captain does not know the extent of the mission?”
“She knows as much as she needs to know. That this planet holds the only hope for the survival of ponykind. The specifics are…more in depth.” Twilight paused, but did not stop walking. She looked straight ahead at the toxic snow and the strange trees. “What I am about to tell you is tier-zero blasphemy.”
“I don’t think it’s blasphemy if you’re talking to a machine.”
“Still. This information does not leave this planet. You will erase it when the mission is complete.”
“You know that is not how remni work.”
Twilight sighed. “I know. But I’m going to tell you anyway. You would find out eventually regardless, and if you are going to be of ANY use to me you need to know.”
“I will do my best to keep it a secret.”
“That does not mean anything at all,” said Twilight, darkly. Still, she continued. “The history of our kind stretches back almost five hundred thousand years. In all that time, there have only been four pure alicorns- -true alicorns. Those who have undergone apotheosis.”
“That is not blasphemy,” said Silken, sounding mildly relieved. “That is common knowledge. The Tribunal and the Holy Mother, Flurry Heart.”
“Flurry Heart is not a pure alicorn. She did not undergo apotheosis. She was born that way, to a pony father…and an alicorn mother.”
Silken looked down at Twilight, no more amused than she was by anything else. In fact, she seemed downright disinterested in this topic at all. “That defies a substantial amount of doctrine,” she noted. “And the Cult of the Holy Mother would not take kindly to such an assertion.”
“That ‘assertion’ is the truth. I saw her as an infant. Her father was my brother.”
This actually did give Silken pause. “Then that means…you are her aunt.”
“It does.”
“And by extension, aunt to her descendants. All of them. The Holy Mother is the progenitor of all living alicorns save for the Tribunal…meaning you are aunt to all living ponies.”
“Essentially,” agreed Twilight, even though it sounded incredibly awkward. “But that doesn’t really matter.”
“If you say so.”
“But what does is the lost alicorn. Her name was Princess Mi’Amore Cadenza, or Cadence. I loved her like a sister.”
“You are referring to her in the past tense.”
Twilight paused for a long time, wondering if she should even bother telling a remnus. This was something that was common knowledge between Celestia, Luna, and herself, and it had been known to Flurry Heart as well even if her cult refused to admit it. Despite this, Twilight had never been able to speak of it to any of their subjects- -and now here she stood, on a planet she had hoped never to return to, telling it to a synthetic pony.
“It was the distant past,” she said at last. “Just on the verge of the Exodus. We had destroyed our own planet…drained it of resources, poisoned the atmosphere with pollution and contamination. It was already becoming uninhabitable…” She shook her head. “No. By that time, it WAS uninhabitable. We just refused to admit it. And I refused to make the right choice.
“Equestria’s climate began to shift. It started to cool. The Crystal Empire was the first to be affected. It was a city, the one that Cadence ruled, at one time alongside my brother…although he was already gone for twenty millennia by then.
“Even then, the Crystal Empire was protected by the Crystal Heart, an object of unbelievable power. It was powered by the love of the crystal ponies, and it kept the cold at bay. Until it no longer could.”
“Then the Heart is what we are looking for.”
“No. The Crystal Heart no longer exists. It was shattered in the ensuing cataclysm. The only remaining shard of it was worn by Flurry Heart until her death.”
“The Amulet of Eternal Love.”
Twilight nodded. “When the cold came, it came quickly. There was no time to evacuate. The crystal ponies would have been killed, had Cadence…” Twilight paused. This had happened so very long ago, and yet even after all this time it still pained her. “She saved them.”
“How?”
“By merging her soul with that of the Crystal Heart. Her love for her kingdom gave it the strength to endure…for a little while, at least.”
“But you said the Heart shattered.”
“It did. The process…it only went one way. Cadence gave her life to save her people, and her daughter.”
Silken was silent for a moment, as if contemplating- -although Twilight doubted a remnus had that capacity. “Why are you telling me this?” she asked at last. “This story would no doubt be beautiful to a pony, if told better. To me, though, it matters very little. What is it we are actually looking for?”
“Cadence was a pure alicorn,” said Twilight. “Meaning that like myself, Celestia, and Luna, she is immortal.”
“But you just said she gave her life.”
“She did. She lost her spirit, her soul, her mind, whatever you want to call it. But what was left was still quite immortal.”
“You mean the corpse.”
“If it could be called that, yes.”
“You’re trying to recover it,” said Silken, somewhat surprised. “That’s what you came here for, isn’t it? You came to harvest Cadence’s body.”
Twilight reacted angrily, hating how ghoulish Silken had made it sound. She turned and snapped at her loudly. “Cadence was the last pure alicorn ancestor of all living alicorns! All modern ponies! If I had access to her genetics, I could create a countermeasure for the Mortality Virus! I could give them back their immortality, just like she had…”
“But why not use your own?”
“My what? What do you mean my own?”
“Your own genetics. You are a blood relative of all living ponies. The Holy Aunt, so to speak. Wouldn’t your genetics be adequate to form a countermeasure?”
Twilight’s jaw clenched, and she felt her breath catch. She suddenly felt like weeping, but suppressed it. There were some things that no pony was meant to know, even if they were just a machine. “I’m not close enough,” she whispered. “I’m not adequate…”
“Fair enough.” Silken’s eyes suddenly turned toward the forest, as if she had seen something moving through the increasingly thickly falling snow. “But do you think the body will still be intact after all this time?”
“Yes. It has to be. I’m sure of it.”
“And you know where to find it?”
Twilight nodded. “Before they evacuated, the crystal ponies held a funeral. I was there. They set my sister-in-law to rest in a mausoleum carved from the purest crystal that the Crystal Empire had to offer, next to the bones of my brother. That chamber is hard enough to withstand a supernova. There is no way it has broken down. Not yet.”
“I see,” said Silken. “Then the mission is simple.”
“Assuming we can find her.”
“I would think she is exactly where you left her.”
“And how am I supposed to remember where the Crystal Empire even was after four hundred thousand years? Not to mention that half these continents are in the wrong places…drift must have been accelerated by the deep-mantle mining…the planet even has twelve percent less gravity than when I was born…”
“I’m glad.”
“That the planet has twelve percent less gravity? That’s not something to be glad about.”
“No. That our mission is so simple. Comparatively. The question comes down to how, exactly, we are supposed to search for the body of a dead alicorn.”
“Not dead. And I have a system.”
“Really?”
“We start at the most powerful magic signal on the planet, then move to subsequently smaller signals in a hierarchy based on geological comparison of the areas.”
“That could take hundreds of years.”
“Yes. It could. Which would be far more trivial to me than it would be to you.” Twilight looked over her shoulder at Silken. “So, I would strongly suggest you redouble your efforts to get me back in communication with my ship.”
High above, the very ship that Twilight was struggling to communicate with was watching her closely. It sat in orbit, slowly drifting through the charged Exosphere of the planet below. All of the crew simply went about their lives, maintaining the ship toward the goal of accomplishing their mission. Each of them understood that this particular mission might take years, and even decades. All of the crew had been specifically selected because of their youth- -save for the captain- -and although each and every one of them was being slowly killed by the Mortality Virus, they would gladly give what little time they had toward their noble mission.
Few noticed as space distorted beside them until the wake of the approaching vessel caused their entire ship to shudder. It materialized from half-space barely five thousand kilometers away, and assumed a relatively slow speed approached Equestria.
It could not have been more different in appearance from its comrade. While the first ship- -the Prodijila- -was protean in design but while in orbit a nearly spherical white orb, the approaching ship was dark in color. Instead of a mutable morphiplasm shell, it was coated in plates of mithriline alloy. Its central form was that of a helix, although overall it assumed a highly grotesque and asymmetrical shape. While the Prodijila formed to the elegant and practical forms that its captain had been trained for nearly a century in creating, this ship had been rigidly assembled into a shape that rejected practicality and aesthetic in favor for mathematical purity, even if the formulas that governed its aesthetic were esoteric and obscure.
The two ships slowly approached each other high above Equestria. The new ship- -it had no name- -did not provoke any sort of aggressive response. It had been expected.
Aboard the Prodijila, the captain- -in her holographic form- -and her top ranking officers moved through the ship, the morphiplasm of its interior stretching and forming itself into elegant but understated hallways as they passed through it. None of them spoke, although there was a mutual tension between them.
The corridor finished assembling, and the group walked toward a docking bay that stood at the far end of it. They paused, staring at the door that now faced them. It was silverish in color, although dull and not remotely reflected. In a way, looking at something so rigid and mechanical made the captain feel ill. It was an obsolescence, and in a way an insult to how far ponies had come in their technology- -but at the same time, it evoked the idea of a far more treacherous and far less civilized era that she could not help but feel herself perversely romanticizing.
The illusion broke as soon as the door suddenly snapped open and as a deluge of putrid greenish fluid flooded into the hallway. Inky Nebula and Golden Star both took rapid steps backward, but the captain and Heliotrope stood their ground, with the latter allowing it to pass over her hooves. Both of them knew what it was, and that the ship now linked to them did not have a single ounce of air within it.
On the other side was darkness- -at first. As the first occupant approached, a slight glow became visible from the optics set in his helmet. As he neared the edge of his ship’s shadows, the captain felt those around her tense. She found that she could not blame them.
The pony stepped into view. He, like all ponies, was an alicorn, and he held the same proportions as his compatriots, although he was slightly taller. The difference, though, came in the fact that while every alicorn on the Prodijila allowed their beautiful bodies to be exposed, this pony had covered his completely.
He wore heavy armor that coated all of his body, and that, in turn, was covered in a long cloak that obscured his form. His helmet bore many symmetrical optic lenses, but what caught the captain’s attention was that the front of his helmet was marked with the One-and-Five: One large and violet six-pointed star surrounded by five smaller white stars. It was the insignia of Twilight Sparkle, and of her cult.
“Captain,” he said, his voice heavily and purposefully distorted by the machinery he wore. “It is good to see you…in person.”
“I reciprocate,” said the captain, although hollowly. “For the sake of efficient communication, to whom am I speaking?”
“Gloom Light,” said the mage. He gave no more information than that. Instead, his attention turned toward Inky Nebula, who seemed visibly confused by his gaze, not sure whether to be disgusted or to blush. Gloom Light stepped forward- -his gate was awkward and strange- -and a narrow robotic effector reached from beneath his cloak. Inky Nebula recoiled, but not before Gloom Light had already closed the distance between them.
“Such a beautiful mare,” he said, stroking the side of her cheek with the robotic claw. He turned several of his optic lenses toward the captain’s hologram. “Had I known that such impressive females dwelt within the crews of the Royal Navy, I would have thought to join the Defense instead of the Cult.”
The captain shifted her holographic head. “Either you are a being of great courage or one of great idiocy to lay an appendage on a member of my crew in my presence.”
“I assure you,” said Gloom Light, “I am neither. Courage is a pointless trait, and idiocy is the undying enemy of the Cult, as I’m sure you have comprehended.”
“Then why are you molesting my auxiliary?”
Gloom Light looked one more time at Inky Nebula, who still appeared to be in a state of being equally greatly disturbed and incredibly flattered. Then he retreated to a safer distance, his effector retracting back beneath his cloak. He did not apologize.
“Did you bring the required device?” asked the captain.
“Do I detect self-hatred in your voice?” The captain’s eyes narrowed. She already strongly disliked this stallion. Gloom Light, though, seemed to be enjoying himself. “What is your affiliation, captain? Cult of the Holy Mother, perhaps?”
“My religion is none of your concern.”
“I am a priest. Ostensibly, religion is my primary concern.”
“Then if you absolutely must know, I belong to no cult.”
“And yet your mother was a Sun worshipper.”
Even with her physical body halfway across the ship, the captain felt her jaw tighten. She was not ashamed by her mother’s dedication to Celestia, even if she found it quaint. Rather, she was offended that this cultist had been researching a past that he should not otherwise have had access to. “My allegiance is to the Royal Navy, and to the will of the Tribunal. Which is clearly more than I can say of you.”
“Because my presence here indicates my nature as a traitor?”
“Doesn’t it?” asked Heliotrope. Both Inky Nebula and Golden Star looked at her in awe.
“Then I see the captain has informed you,” said Gloom Light, no doubt smiling widely under his mask. “Interesting. And no. I am no traitor. My dedication to the Goddess of Knowledge has never once wavered, and it never shall. Although the philosophy supporting my definition of ‘dedication’ may be…abstract. To you at least.”
“Just answer my question.”
“Yes.”
Gloom Light stepped aside, and from behind him a pair of cultists dressed in similar cybernetic hard-armor stepped through. Both of them had clearly undergone vast cybernetic modification- -as their master no doubt had as well- -although one of the pair was far larger than the other. Between them they bore the device in question, a cylindrical device as long as a pony and slightly less than one meter wide, levitating it with exacting precision using their technomagic.
“They can deliver it to bay four,” said the captain. “The coordinates are being transmitted now.”
The two cultists clearly received them, and began to carry the machine toward its final destination.
“I thank you for this assistance in our mission,” said the captain, turning back to Gloom Light. “And I apologize for taking time from your busy schedule, both to deliver it and to construct it. May you return to your home space by the grace of the Tribunal.”
“I’m sure I will,” said the priest, although with a level of coldness that reflected the fact that he considered two members of the Tribunal to be vastly inferior to the third, as many cultists did. “But not immediately.”
The captain, who had already been turning, suddenly froze. She turned back, her eyes glaring. “And what do you mean by that, exactly?”
“The mission objectives require that I stay behind. Here, with you.”
“That was not stated on any briefing.”
“It was meant to be implicit. How else are you supposed to install it?”
“My engineers are more than capable. And I have a crew of remni standing by.”
“Remni? Are you of the opinion that remni would be able to install my device?”
“They are more competent than you give them credit for.”
“We shall see,” said Gloom Light. He stepped toward the captain, though, and this time even Heliotrope flinched- -but the captain held her ground. “But I will stay. You have no idea the importance of this mission. I refuse to leave until that device is activated.”
“They you may be waiting some time.” The captain leaned forward, so that their faces were only inches from one another. “And do you think I would even be here if I did not know the importance of what we were doing? Of course I do. But I will have you know: I take no pleasure in it. None.”
She suddenly pulled her face away and turned. Her crewmembers followed her as she departed. Gloom Light stood behind, his body still dripping with the residue of the fluid atmosphere of his ship. He did not say anything, but he watched the captain leave. It had been a long time since he had been this excited- -but he did not allow himself to let his guard down. They were so close, and if there was one thing the Cult of Twilight Sparkle had taught him, it was that he must never put his full faith or trust into another pony.
Night was beginning to fall. It was impossible to see the sun through the clouds above, but it was apparent from the plummeting temperature that whatever heat it provided to this frozen world was departing. Twilight was only barely able to feel the change through the morphiplasm that covered her body, but the sensors in her suit showed a temperature that was decreasing depressingly low.
“Will you be able to function at these temperatures?” she said to Silken.
“The current temperature is one hundred ninety. My body was built to withstand work in deep space. I am pretty sure that deep space is colder than this. I am more concerned for you.”
“Remni can feel concern?”
“No. It was a figure of speech. I would be able to survive one hundred ninety.”
“Yes. You would be able to function. For about twenty minutes.”
The thought was grim, and Twilight shivered as though she could already feel the cold. As an immortal, she was except from death- -but there were things that she had learned must be avoided at all costs. Drowning was one, but freezing was another. It would leave her trapped and barely conscious. If she had been alone, it might have taken centuries for somepony to find her- -or even longer.
This only made her feel more uncomfortable. The thick darkness that surrounded her, the cold, and especially the silence- -it was not a welcoming place. Thoughts began to push through the deep fog of her long memory, and she recalled a forest not unlike this, although it had been warm and wet, not cold. Where she had seen it, though, she could not recall.
“Why is it so quiet?” said Twilight, at last. “I can’t stand it.”
“I can try singing.”
“Um, no.”
“Of course,” said Silken, sounding mildly disappointed. She instead focused her eyes toward the darkness, and her tiny pupils dilated vastly to compensate for the darkness. “The environment seems to be completely devoid of vertebrate life.”
“No animals?” This saddened Twilight greatly. She sighed. “I don’t know why I didn’t expect that. After what we did to the planet, it’s amazing there’s even plants.”
“Most of them are actually fungus,” noted Silken.
“Still. I’ve run simulations at various points, whenever the mood struck me…I never predicted that there would be anything to survive here…”
As she spoke and as the temperature began to drop, the plants around them suddenly shifted. Their tendrils curved and pushed upward, waving as they moved. Twilight took a step back, although the plants only seemed to be reaching upward blindly. As she watched, the appendages separated to reveal buds which in turn quickly and gracefully unfurled into massive flower-like structures.
“Oh my Celestia,” whispered Twilight.
“It makes me uncomfortable that you pray to your peer,” said Silken. “But I agree that they are quite beautiful.” She reached out and touched one of the flowers. What Twilight had taken to be stamens reacted instantly, wrapping around Silken’s hoof. There was a plume of smoke as they burnt into the surface of her body, corroding deep channels into her hoof.
“Silken!”
“Somewhat less beautiful,” said Silken. She was oddly calm, despite that by this time her hoof had mostly corroded away to nothing. She jerked it out of the flower and looked at her damaged limb. Within seconds, the her body began to regenerate. “I would recommend against touching the flowers.”
“And I would recommend against you touching THINGS!” snapped Twilight, pushing Silken away. “We have no idea what any of this is, or how delicate this ecosystem might be! What are you, some kind of foal?!”
Before Silken could formulate a response, something moved quickly through the underbrush. Twilight whirled around. “What was that?” she cried. There was another sudden sound of rattling sticks, and three reflective eyes peeked out from beneath the fungoid plats. Twilight screamed and sent out a beam of magic. Twigs shattered and snapped from the blast, but without knowing what she was targeting, Twilight missed completely. Instead, something closely resembling a beetle with a gnarled, bark-like surface shot out the brush toward her, standing on what seemed like hundreds of long legs.
This time Twilight screamed even more shrilly and jumped onto Silken. She fired another several beams, but of them only one struck the beetle. It was sent rolling backward, but it was not even injured. After a moment of writhing and correcting itself with a set of motions that no self-respecting insect on Equestria should ever have used, it stood back up. It seemed to glare at Twilight, hissing loudly, before it climbed one of the stump-like plants nearby and picked off one of the flowers. The flower squealed and shook violently, its tendrils trying to reach the beetle, but to no avail.
As Twilight and Silken- -although mostly Silken, because Twilight’s actions were consumed by screaming “EEW EEW EEW KILL IT KILL IT KILL IT!”- -the beetle took one last look at them before hauling the struggling flower away with some difficulty.
Twilight, now breathing her recirculated air rapidly, looked at Silken. “You said there were no animals!”
“No. I said there were no vertebrates. That is an invertebrate.”
The beetle retreated into the woods, approaching what appeared to be a round pile of stones. It crossed over something that looked like grass, and just as Twilight was beginning to calm down, the grass suddenly retracted- -and a head with a mouth as wide as Twilight was tall shot out of the center of the ring of stones, stretching out on a perversely long neck. The beetle dropped the flower, but it was too late. A long, tooth-filled mouthpart shot out and grasped it, pulling it into the creatures mouth. The creature swallowed it immediately, but then turned its eight blind eyes toward Twilight and Silken. Being already full, though, it retracted its head back into the hole. After a second, the grass-like appendages returned, waving slowly in the breeze around the stones.
“See?” said Silken, smiling and pointing. “Invertebrates!” She paused. “Also, I recommend against getting near any of those.”
“Snakes. That was a snake.”
“I don’t know what a ‘snake’ is. There is no reason why I would.”
Twilight whimpered. “Why did it have to be snakes?”
There were more of them. The lower region of the forest, one that seemed to consist largely of a long-frozen lake, was covered in the rings of stones. Twilight found that both odd and disturbing. These things were living in ice, potentially ice of great depth- -and yet they had somehow found stones. Which meant that they either spanned the depth entirely- -or that they sometimes left their holes and walked the earth.
There were other things too. The flowers, the beetles, and many other things both smaller and far larger, few of which Twilight was able to see and even fewer that she wanted to. The planet had grown hostile in her time away- -but what made it worse was how quiet everything was. There were no animal calls, no sounds of crickets or squeals of whatever abominations roamed the land- -except when something panicked broke through the sticks or cracked across the crust of iced snow, everything was dead silent. That only made everything worse.
Twilight, of course, did not convey her increasing distaste for this planet. She had already acted incrediably unprofessionally with Silken. Though, as a remnus, Silken likely did not care, Twilight felt deeply ashamed. She was one of the three living gods of all ponies, and she was expected to act with some dignity. She was never supposed to show fear, and to exist above all others- -and apart from them. Instead, she had panicked and acted just like a pony would in the same situation. It was unacceptable.
The only thing that made the ordeal tolerable was the light. Part of it came from an illumination spell originating at Twilight’s horn, although a great deal more came from the sky above. Even with the sun having long-since set, the skies above were lit by a strange sort of aurora derived both from the incessant lightning and from the strange magical luminescence of the skies overhead.
“This planet appears habitable,” said Silken. “I can’t help but wonder why ponies never returned to it.”
“So remni can wonder now?”
“It is an expression,” said Silken. “By ‘wonder’, I mean I can recognize terraformable planets. And this one is far better than any planet yet discovered. I therefore fail to understand why it is not…well, terraformed.”
“The planet was quarantined,” said Twilight. “When we left, the planet had become so toxic that all of my models predicted that it would never again be able to sustain pony life.”
“But it is no longer toxic- -”
“Not to the naked eye,” snapped Twilight, “but you weren’t here. The surface may have plants, a sort-of breathable atmosphere, water…but there are no resources left here. Building here would be more expensive than it’s worth.”
“But even an exploratory team- -”
“No. You don’t know what I know. It may look like forests and ice, but there are things under the surface. Buried things. Horrible things. Things best left undisturbed. We should not be here, and I would never have returned unless it was absolutely necessary.”
“Other ponies may not agree with you.”
“They will agree with their god if their god orders them to. I inspected the quarantine array. No pony has entered this star system since we left it. No pony has ever seen a reason to until now.”
“Then why am I detecting artificial structures at five hundred meters?”
Twilight stopped. “What?” She suddenly turned, but found herself unable to see through the brush. “You’re scan has to be misinterpreting a natural feature. After four hundred and fifty thousand years, there is no way that any pony-built structures are still standing.”
“Then see for yourself.”
Twilight accelerated her pace, moving quickly through the trees. She knew that Silken was wrong, but at the same time, she felt an urge to sprint forward, or even to extend her wings unprotected into the night’s air and fly. Although she acted like a pony, Silken was at her core a machine. Her body had been built in a factory, and that, like the rest of her, was built in emulation of the pony form. That meant that she had no reason to lie, and that her descriptions conformed to a precise internal rubric. There was very little chance she was wrong- -even if her conclusion was impossible.
Then, suddenly, she broke through the forest. The land dropped away from her before leveling out into a vast plain of ice. The snow was falling heavily now, and the sun had set- -but in the light of the sky, and perhaps in the snow itself, Twilight saw that Silken could not possibly have been mistaken. There, stretching out across that vast and treeless plane, was a city.
“No,” she said, her heart suddenly racing. “It can’t be, it just can’t be.”
Silken emerged from the brush and looked out. “Oh,” she said, “so I was correct. Imagine that.”
Twilight turned suddenly. “Lifesigns!” she demanded. “Silken! Now!”
“None,” said Silken. “At least none out of place with the types of life I have already categorized. Large invertebrates. Arthropods, crinoids, cnidarians, platyhelminths, some things I can’t recognize.”
“Ponies?”
“No. I am not detecting any.”
Twilight looked out at the dark city. There was no sign of life, but it was undeniable that the flat-walled structures of dark stone rising from the ice had not formed naturally. “We need to go around.”
“The terrain surrounding the area is mountainous,” said Silken. “Unless you wish to fly, it would be strenuous and time-consuming. The signal is on the far side of this plain.” She stepped down the steep embankment to the flat ground below. “It will be easier just to walk through.”
“No! Silken!”
It was too late. Silken had already reached the land below and was walking toward the city. Twilight looked up at the looming structures one more time, and then cursed under her breath as she slid down the slope as well.
From above, the plain had looked flat, but that was far from the truth. A combination of wind and various sorts of upheaval from below had bent and distorted the ice, making passage slow and difficult in some places. The rest was covered in thick snow that reached nearly to Twilight’s thighs, which made walking difficult. Once again, she had an urge to use her wings, but resisted it. She pressed on toward Silken, who was walking across the surface of the soft powder without sinking. As much as Twilight was loathe to admit it, Silken had been right- -crossing conditions like this on the mountains would have been almost impossible.
Still, as the towers began to loom closer through the swirling clouds of snow, Twilight felt the urge to turn back. That city was wrong. It was not supposed to be there. There had been nopony to build it- -and yet there it stood, its buildings cutting from the ice and snow below and stretching upward.
The pony and the remnus stopped at the edge of the city and looked up. The buildings were now fully visible, and Twilight found herself detesting them even more. Their surfaces were nearly smooth, although rough and pitted and badly fractured in some places. Although they were geometric prisms, their cross-section was not square. Rather, they stood in various irregular shapes. None of them had any sign of windows, or doors.
Silken stared at them, her holographic visor shifting as her head scanned. “According to my analysis, the primary building material consists of stone, mortar, and unreinforced concrete. They are separated into floors, but I am not detecting any internal conduits for electricity or piping.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that whoever built them was architecturally advanced, but otherwise primitive. Most likely.”
“Most likely,” muttered Twilight, shivering.
“Are you alright, goddess? You seem worried.”
“This city. It wasn’t built by ponies. It couldn’t have been.”
“Based on?”
“How old is it?” asked Twilight.
Silken looked back to the city. “I cannot say for sure. However, based on the conditions surrounding us, I would judge that it is unlikely to be younger than ten thousand years old.”
“No pony has been here for much, much longer than that,” said Twilight. “So who built it?”
“Again. That is a question I could not possibly answer. It is meant for you.” Silken paused. “However, it is apparent that the city has been abandoned and unmaintained. Meaning that whoever built it…”
“Is long extinct,” said Twilight. She steeled herself, and started walking toward the city, entering a wide space that might once have been a road. Silken followed her without hesitation.
The city, like the rest of the land around it, was silent. As they moved deeper through it, though, it became far more apparent that it was in far worse condition than it had initially appeared. Many of the internal buildings were crumbling, their smooth façades falling away to reveal the corroded and broken stone beneath. Many had fallen, crushing others as they went, and now lay mostly buried in ice and snow.
There were no signs of the city’s builders. It was quite apparent that they had departed long ago for unknown reasons. The city, unmaintained, had been overgrown with plants that manifested as enormous trees with trunks as wide as some of the buildings that spiraled up amongst them, filling the sky over the city center with wood and a canopy of leaves. Unlike the other trees, though, Twilight recognized these. Although they were far larger than the ones she remembered, and clearly had undergone some level of evolution, she knew what they were.
“Apples,” she said. “These are apple trees.”
“Apples?” That was a word that Silken knew; no doubt she was familiar with the small decorative shrubs that were grown in many of the few remaining Tribunal arks. “Those are apples?”
“No doubt,” said Twilight.
“But they’re so big!” Silken bounded toward the base of one of the trees. She paused at a gap in the ice, and as Twilight approached she saw why. The trunk of the tree was separated from the ice by nearly a meter, and the dark whole it produced seemed to stretch down for eternity.
“I think the city may be deeper than we thought,” said Silken, turning to Twilight.
“This is only the top of the city,” said Twilight, for the first time marveling at the situation around her. “These are the tops of buildings…the rest is under the ice.” She took a deep breath. She was simultaneously terrified and excited by the implications of this. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
“No.”
“It means that a civilization arose after we left. Something past ponies. They built this.” Twilight cursed herself mentally. “But they’re gone now…if we had just been here. If I had just come earlier, I might have seen what they were…”
“I doubt that,” said Silken, staring into the hole.
“What?”
“These buildings. They are empty. Every floor I can perceive…they have no contents.”
“The inhabitants must have taken them.”
“But all of them? There is no furniture, no trash…no bones. Just the buildings. Empty buildings.”
Twilight shivered, because she knew that Silken was right. There were buildings- -but there was no evidence that this place had ever been a city. It looked like a crumbling ruin that had never been inhabited, save by the monstrous apple trees that grew up from the seemingly endless ice below.
“We should keep moving,” said Twilight. “I don’t like it here. And we can’t get distracted.”
“Agreed,” said Silken.
The city was large, but not impassable. The roads- -or what Twilight took for roads- -were effective for passing across the ice field. There were only a few places where deep fractures made continuing impossible, or where the area became choked with monstrous apple trees, but those were easy enough to circumvent even without teleportation.
The whole time, Twilight felt it surrounding her, seeming to press inward. It felt like being surrounded by the skeleton of some long-dead thing, one that she had no way to identify. She was not sure she wanted to. What kind of thing had built those dark towers would be strange and alien to her, perhaps incomprehensible to any pony. Had she been looking at this from an academic perspective, perhaps from the comfort of her own temple, she would indeed have taken an interest- -but standing among it was different entirely. When it was visceral and real, it felt so much more terrifying.
In time, though, the city came to an end- -but the region where the buildings suddenly stopped made Twilight feel no better. They ceased abruptly, superseded by a line of obelisks. They showed signs of having been intricately carved at one point, all though unlike the rest of the city they had long-since weathered away to battered stone spikes. Many had collapsed, but looking in either direction Twilight could see that the line was slightly curved- -and perhaps the leading arc of a massive circle.
“What are these?” said Silken, approaching one.
“I don’t know,” said Twilight. She approached as well, but did not reach out to touch the stone that she stood in front of. “They appear to be markers of some kind.” She looked closer. “And they are much, much older than the rest of the city.”
“Indeed,” said Silken. She looked toward one, and through the light of her holographic visor Twilight could see the reflection of the various frequencies she was using to examine the stone.
“Those are markings,” she said.
“Carvings, yes,” said Silken. “These stones were once engraved.”
“Can you translate it?”
“There is no guarantee that it is language. Or was language, rather. They are far too eroded.” She took a step back. “But it was apparent that at one point something was written on them.”
“A warning,” said Twilight, darkly.
“We cannot assume that. It could as easily have been graffiti.”
“No. The magic signal is coming from the other side of these stones. They were built to surround it- -and look at the city. It doesn’t go beyond them.”
Silken looked past the stones, and saw that Twilight was correct. “What is your proposed course of action?” she asked. “These stones predate the city. Probably by quite a lot. Whatever your spell is detecting, it has been here for a great deal of time.”
“That is a positive sign. This might very well be the way to Cadence’s tomb.”
“If it is a positive sign, why have we stopped?”
Twilight frowned, but she knew that Silken was right. “Because this seems wrong. If I’m right, and this was a warning, they were afraid.”
“Should we turn back?”
Twilight looked up at Silken, and then turned slowly toward the land that the stones encircled. She took a deep breath and stepped past them. “No,” she said. “We continued.”
They made it some distance into the expanse before Twilight began to feel strange. The ice plain gave way once again to forest, although now the strange and fungoid trees had been replaced almost entirely by a vast apple forest. These trees had not spent their lives growing upward through ice, but had instead grown directly from the ground below. Because of this, the land was covered in sprawling roots between trunks hundreds of meters wide. The trees progressed upward far higher than Twilight could see, and because of this the light from the coming day failed completely to penetrate- -but also, so did the snow.
This should have comforted Twilight. The ground below was free of excessive frost or thick snow, and actually had a few strange wispy plants resembling narrow asparagus growing from between the boulders that the apple roots had pushed up. The trees also seemed to generate some level of heat, making the environment seem almost temperate compared to the rest of wastes of Equestria.
Yet, somehow, she still felt strange. It had been a long time since she had become ill- -almost an impossibly long time- -and the plagues that had ravaged ponykind throughout history had no effect on her immortal body. Yet, somehow, she still felt sick. The sensation got worse and more potent as she advanced toward her destination.
The source was not far when Twilight collapsed.
“Goddess?” said Silken, her tone not conveying concern in the slightest. “Is something wrong?”
“It hurts,” said Twilight through clenched teeth. “Oh Celestia, it hurts…”
“I still find it odd that you pray to her.”
Twilight fell to her side, shaking. “It hurts…”
Silken started to appear concerned- -although it was probably only Twilight’s imagination. “What is wrong?” she asked. “I can attempt medical care- -”
“Don’t you dare touch me!” growled Twilight.
“You’re wounded,” said Silken, more firmly. “Unless you intend to fix the problem yourself, it is my job to repair you.”
“You’re not a doctor!”
“You can at least tell me what’s wrong.”
“My flank,” groaned Twilight, almost crying out as another wave of pain shot over her. “It’s my flank…”
They both looked at the black armored morphiplasm that covered Twilight’s rear.
“I can’t administer medical care through the suit,” said Silken, “well, not without risking cutting you in half.”
“It’s fine, it’s- -” Twilight wailed softly as an even more powerful wave of pain covered her, as though her sickness were attempting to make the decision of whether to show it or not to her. She relented quickly, and the pain subsided slightly. “Fine,” she said.
At her will, the morphiplasm separated and curled back from her flank. This time, Twilight did cry out. The air was so cold, and the feeling of it against her unprotected skin was already shocking. The sickness only made it worse. Twilight writhed for a moment before regaining control of herself.
Silken stared at her flank. Then her eyes and their tiny pupils turned toward Twilight’s face. “You were correct,” she said. “I have no idea how to deal with this.”
Twilight looked down at her flank. She half expected to see some kind of injury, but instead, her violet skin was perfectly intact. What she saw, though, made her wish that she had seen a real wound. Instead, she saw her cutie mark. It was glowing and shifting, sending a wave of pain through her each time it did.
“No,” she said, standing up. It hurt, but her fear had neutralized some of the pain. “It can’t be…”
“Can’t be what?”
Twilight turned her head toward direction of the magical source she had been detecting. She took a step forward and cried out from the pain.
“Goddess!”
“Don’t touch me!” screamed Twilight. She took another step, limping forward. It hurt, but not as much. It was as though the sickness wanted her to walk forward- -and as much as she did not want to, she followed it, not out of fear of the pain, but because she had to know.
The trees did not clear, and for a moment Twilight had hope that she was mistaken- -but then they suddenly stopped. Instead of trees, rocky ground extended forward into a circle. At its edges stood the massive forest, their trunks and canopy forming what felt like an enormous chamber. The ground here had no snow and no ice, but a circle of grass and flowers that had no doubt long-since gone extinct everywhere else in Equestria.
And to Twilight’s horror, she had been proven right. There, in the center of the circle, stood a different kind of tree, one that rose from the ground as pure crystal, extending upward to where it grew around a castle of the same substance. It had grown since Twilight had last seen it, but it was still the same as she remembered- -down to the crystal star that stood atop it.
“My castle,” gasped Twilight. “It…it can’t be…”
“Your castle?” Silken looked at it, and then at Twilight. “Do you recognize this place?”
“This was…” Twilight could not immediately finish. She took a breath and closed her eyes. “This was my castle. In ancient times. When…when it all started.”
Silken looked up at the structure. “But that should not be possible,” she said. “You said it yourself. There is no way a structure built by ponies could have survived this long.”
“It wasn’t built by ponies,” said Twilight, softly.
“It appears to be emitting a signal,” said Silken. “Although I am only barely able to detect it. Somehow, it is causing resonance with you.”
“It’s still functional…”
“Excuse me?”
“The map. It’s still functional. And still transmitting…” Twilight shivered. “But there’s no way to know how long. The atmosphere was blocking it…and I was out of range. It’s so much weaker than it used to be, but more urgent. It could have been calling for millennia…”
“Should we go in?”
“No,” said Twilight without hesitation. “This is not our goal. It is irrelevant.”
“But you said that it used to be your home.”
“It did, but it isn’t anymore. That time is passed, and that Equestria is dead.”
“But- -”
“My decision is FINAL. Whatever the map wants, it doesn’t matter anymore. That castle is a pointless relic.” Twilight lit her horn, and summoned an extremely complex spell that surrounded herself. Silken took a step back at the surge of violet light, and then watched as the light became runes, and as these sunk into Twilight’s armor- -or through it, to the skin beneath.
“What did you do?”
“A shield spell,” said Twilight. “Set to the exact frequency of the transmission.”
“You’ve insulated yourself against it.”
“Yes. I have. But I can still feel it, and I’ll still be weak until we get outside the perimeter of its effect.”
“We’re leaving?”
“Yes. Of course.” Twilight started walking. “This place is of no use to us. We will go to the next location on the list. I’ll scan for it once we reach the perimeter. We should consider ourselves lucky. Someone already marked it for us.”
“As you wish,” said Silken. For a brief moment, Twilight had wished that she were more insistent- -but to expect that much from a remnus was far too much to ask for.
They began to walk, but as they did, a strange sound echoed through the trees. It was a distant and somber cry, a wail not of pain or anger or even true sadness- -but of desolation and emptiness. Twilight felt her divine blood run cold. As distant as it was, it came from the blackest depths of her memory with ease. It was not easy to forget such a cry.
Silken turned her head up, tilting her translucent ears toward the sound. “What was that?”
“Windigoes,” said Twilight. She swore under her breath. “Of course they would be here. We need to keep moving. Quickly.”
They did indeed move quickly, or at least as quickly as Twilight was able to. The magic of the map grew weaker and weaker as she got more distant, but it was still affecting her on some level, as was the spell she was using to keep it at bay.
The warmth and glow of the castle receded, the chill of the air began to grow more intense. It was not like it had been before, though. The storms were growing stronger, and the air that they brought with them was strange and different, as though it were charged by something ominous. Silken appeared not to notice this; it was likely that she could not; her ability to perceive the world was limited by the sensors in her head and body. Without a soul, there was no way she could have known what Twilight was feeling. The way the storm made her feel so lonely and afraid, and how she could not shake the sense that it was following them.
Twilight felt herself breathing heavily, occasionally nearly tripping over the ice and snow of the landscape. Silken drifted behind her with ease; she was not actually running, but more of fast walking- -something that would have looked ridiculous normally, but which Silken somehow managed to make appeared infuriatingly graceful- -and showed no signs of fatigue.
“It’s nice to know something familiar survived the cataclysm, isn’t it?”
“No. No it isn’t. Keep MOVING.”
Another long wail went out, echoing between the trees. Twilight felt her mane stand on end beneath her morphiplasm armor, and turned her head to look. For a moment, she nearly panicked- -it sounded so near, with the voice of with windigo seeming to come from every angle and every tree. While she looked over her shoulder, she tripped over the root of one of the many weedy trees that grew amongst the receding apple trees. She fell suddenly, striking her head against the ground.
“I recommend being more careful,” said Silken, helping Twilight up. “If you fall like that while we are being actively persued…” She trailed off. Her eyes looking toward the night.
“Silken, we have to go,” said Twilight, staring to run again. “They’re getting closer!”
Silken did not move. She stood where she was, staring into the darkness, her eyes flicking from tree to tree.
“Silken Dream!” shouted Twilight. “I am giving you a direct order! MOVE!”
“Goddess,” said. “I’m detecting lifesigns. They are almost consistent with vertebrates.”
“Then that means the windigoes- -” Twilight’s breath caught in her throat as she fell silent. The windigoes were ectoplasmic beings, their bodies made of concentrated living magic- -they were not vertebrates, nor would they have lifesigns that Silken would be able to detect. “…almost?”
The area around them suddenly grew still. The wind itself seemed to slow, although the temperature of the air was dropping lower than it had even in the depths of night. The only sound Twilight could hear was that of her own breath and the sound of perpetually recycled air entering and exiting her repeatedly.
“Silken…”
“I cannot lock onto its position,” said Silken. “The signal is not stable.”
Twilight braced herself and raised a spell of her own. She reached out into the darkness with her magic, sensing what lay beyond.
“There is nothing there,” she said. “You’re scans are wrong. There’ss nothing there! Nothing with a soul- -” Then she gasped as she felt it move. A massive thing, moving quickly amongst the trees and brush but without making a sound.
Then came the voice. It called from the darkness beyond where Twilight could see, and it never seemed to speak from the same location- -wherever it was coming from, it was moving. It was the only sound the creature made.
It was not even clear if it was a voice. The sound was badly distorted, as though it were many voices speaking at once. Some sounded as though they were poorly transcribed, as if the fidelity of their original sound had been poor and they had been repeated many times with a loss each time. There was another voice underneath, though. One that spoke with grave difficulty, but no distortion apart from a gurgling and hissing.
“Vortog…plath idena…thanthakta,” it said. Twilight did not understand the language, or even the full pronunciations of the words.
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“Goddess?” said Silken, looking confused. “I didn’t say anything, who are you- -”
There was a sudden sound, as though the silence surrounding them had suddenly burst open with every kind of deafening noise conceivable. There was a screaming and whir of machinery, and trees being cracked and toppled over as something enormous tore through them.
“Goddess!” cried Silken, interposing herself between Twilight and the attacking monstrosity. Her reflexes were far faster than Twilight’s, and before Twilight even knew what was going on she saw a massive rusted hand grasp Silken’s torso. With a sound of scraping metal and a blast of steam, the pneumatic cylinders in its wrist slammed closed, and the rest of the mechanisms that made up the arm shifted and engaged. Silken was thrown with enough force to send her flying fifty meters through the air, where she slammed into the trunk of a massive tree with enough force to splinter it.
The creature then turned toward Twilight, and she to it. She had no clear idea of what she was looking at. It seemed to have no defined physical form. Where a normal biological creature had a semblance of symmetry and purpose, this monstrosity was a shambling mass of rusted plates of metal, hoses, and wire. It stood at least twenty meters tall, although that was difficult to tell because of the way it moved. The lower half of it seemed to consist of many robotic legs, although Twilight could not be entirely sure. It almost seemed to be shifting as she watched. Parts of it turned with the jerky, difficult motions of a crudely built salvaged machines, but the rest were fluid in a way that made no sense for a creature made of metal, or even one of flesh.
The creature let out a horrible growl that sounded more abstract than angry, but it attacked viciously. Twilight rolled on her side, jumping back to avoid a blow of a long, thin appendage. The creature took a moment to respond, and Twilight took the chance to fire a beam of energy from her horn, striking at where a heart should have been in any sane, normal creature.
The metal plate over its chest- -or what Twilight took to be a chest- -burst into flames as it liquefied, and Twilight saw the violet beam shoot through its body. The creature shambled backward, but only for a moment. Then it seemed to fall on its side and race forward at her with a cry that once again sounded like words.
“Vortog…plath idena…thanthakta,” it said in the exact same tone it had used before. Twilight realized that this thing was quite clearly a machine of some sort, although that only barely made sense. Parts of it looked like they had been built from salvaged parts, but the rest looked like it had been bolted on without purpose, almost at random.
Whatever it was, Twilight realized that she could not strike at something when she had no idea where its vital organs were, if it even had any. Instead she tried to change her spell, only to wince in pain and drop to her knees. The effect of the map was still weakening her, and the spell to protect herself from its influence was using most of her power. As an alicorn, she had more than enough power to smite this abomination, but not without leaving herself exposed completely to the map’s power, something that she was sure would incapacitate her.
This hesitation was all the creature required. It reached out, wrapping Twilight in a thick tentacle and pulling her into the air. Twilight felt the morphiplasm on her body respond automatically, increasing density and hardness to protect her from damage. At the same time, the internal power support system engaged, and Twilight pushed against the tentacle.
It gave way slightly, but only partially. Twilight looked down in horror to see that the corroded metal surface that surrounded her was not a machine at all- -it was armor. There was flesh beneath it. Twilight saw it writhing beneath the rusted metal it held. It was gray and scabrous, and as Twilight watched she saw a mouth filled with numerous rows of bladed teeth rip open, gasping toward her. Above it, she saw several eyes, all with violet irises, all looking toward her with absolute hatred.
The creature roared, and then screamed with the sound of electrical mechanisms. The gray flesh inside morphed, pouring out from around the armor into bladed tendrils that wrapped around Twilight’s body. She began to engage the spell necessary to fight back, but before she could the creature pulled another tentacle from its body, drawing metal and robotic support units from its body.
There was no time to react. The creature struck Twilight in the face. Her morphiplasm reacted by hardening her helmet, but the blow was still substantial. There was pain, and Twilight saw a flash of light from the impact. Then came another, and Twilight saw the transparent substance of her mask beginning to crack.
The creature spoke again, and again with the same voice. “Vortog…plath idena…thanthakta.”
It then slammed Twilight’s mask one more time, and the morphiplasm began to give way as the cracks in the mask grew. Twilight finally finished preparing her spell, and she targeted the creature’s legs. She fired a wide line of energy that severed several, causing it to tip- -only to catch itself on several robotic arms and unnamable appendages.
There was no hesitation even after sustaining the injury. The club-like fist that had been pounding Twilight’s mask suddenly changed, converting into a fleshy spike that then became overgrown with bone. It rammed it through Twilight’s mask, and she screamed as she felt a sharp pain between her left eye and her nose.
At that instant, Silken slammed into the side of the creature. The combination of Twilight’s damage to its legs and Silken’s incredible mass ramming it caused the creature to tilt. It dropped Twilight, and Silken caught her.
“Goddess,” she said. “How badly are you damaged?’
Summoning words was difficult, but Twilight pushed herself away from Silken. “I’m fine,” she said, attempting to reform her mask. Air was getting in. She could smell it, and she could see stains of golden liquid on the inside of the glass-like plate. Seeing that made her feel faint.
The creature struck out at them again with the immense robotic arm that it had initially used to attack Silken. This time, Silken knew what to expect. She dodged and then bucked the mechanism that operated the hand. The force went off like an explosion, in part because of Silken’s strength and in part because she shattered a steam condenser that powered the industrial-looking robotic equipment of the limb.
The creature let out a low growl and took a step back. Its limb had been ruined, and gray, amorphous flesh poured out of the wounds, grabbing onto the bent metal and pulling it apart and back toward the creature’s main body.
“I’ve got it,” said Twilight. She lowered her head and prepared a spell. Instead of a blast of magic, though, her horn only fizzled. “What?” she said.
The creature did not hesitate in its response. Its tentacles and remaining robotic limbs dug into the ground, and the mechanisms in its chest opened up. Twilight saw a whirring vortex of screaming circular blades, and beyond that a mouth surrounded by numerous violet eyes. From within that hole, something began to rev and revolve- -and then a set of infrared lights.
Twilight barely managed to dodge the laser as it went off. The rocks near her liquefied, and the beam proceeded onward toward the darkness behind her, lighting it and with a blinding glow of both the beam and of the trees and brush incinerating. There was a smell of something cooking, although Twilight was sure that it was from the creature itself.
As much as she had wanted to avoid it, the time had come for Twilight to do one of the exact things she had wanted to avoid. Her suit slipped from her back, and she spread her wings. The frigid air felt horrible against them, but the memory of how to fly came back to her quickly. Twilight flapped the appendages and took to the air.
“Silken!” she cried, “I can’t use magic!”
“I assumed that. You’re injury is actually really severe. Be glad you can’t see your own face!”
“Not helping! Do you have- -” The creature redoubled its effort and started to reach for Twilight, and she was knocked to the ground.
“Weapons systems? No, of course not,” said Silken, taking her place at Twilight’s side. “But if this form must be destroyed for my mission objective, so be it.”
The creature took a step forward. Its body had begun to change. The broken arm had been redistributed, and the flesh beneath had reassembled the broken pieces into armor and those that still functioned into a set of three smaller arms. Because it had, its eyes were now visible, either hiding beneath the folds of broken, rusted metal or peering through portholes that looked like they had almost been machined especially for the purpose. All of them were staring at Twilight, their narrow pupils heaving angrily as they formed and re-formed while the flesh beneath the steel and iron heaved and writhed.
A thin, somber call echoed through the forest. The creature suddenly stopped, and Twilight saw the electronics near where a head should have been bristle. Instead of advancing, it took a step backward.
Around them, a mist appeared, pouring in from the trees. The air grew colder than Twilight had ever felt it, and she suddenly felt sick again. Not because of the map, but something else. She felt so alone, and so very hungry.
They appeared silently, appearing to come from nowhere at all. Suddenly they were everywhere, standing on every high branch of the ancient trees or coming across the ground, their silent hooves never truly touching anything except mists. Evolution had not changed them in the same way it had their pony equivalents; the windigoes were pale, ghostly creatures that stared forward from luminescent eyes. They looked as Twilight remembered them, save for the complex spiral markings that some of them bore over their bodies.
“Vortog…plath idena…thanthakta,” repeated the machine as it turned to them. No response came, except for a long and sad whinny that seemed to come from everywhere at once.
This only seemed to enrage the creature- -if it was even capable of rage as opposed to mindless, instinctive violence. It charged them, but its form was massive and lumbering. The massless bodies of the wraiths easily outmaneuvered it. As it reached toward them, one of the marked windigoes paused in the air. A circle of icy air appeared before it, and for a moment Twilight could have sworn that she saw a complex array of spirals and lines form before a surge of cold air shot forward.
The robotic limb froze as the hydraulic fluid within it froze, and the metal creaked and squealed as it became covered in frost. Another windigo appeared, and produced another circle. Even at a distance, Twilight felt herself knocked back by the concussive blast. The robotic limb of the creature shattered, and it let out a long digital moan.
The others began to swarm it, galloping through the air in a circle above the creature. Twilight registered the temperature dropping precipitously as a storm appeared out of nowhere, summoned by the motion of the windigoes.
“We have to get out of here!” said Silken.
Twilight did not listen to her. There was no way she could. She was transfixed by the view of the storm. She watched as the creature writhed, striking out at the windigoes with mechanical, repetitive motions- -as though it did not have the capacity to think, only to behave with preprogrammed responses. She had not realized it in her panic, but now Twilight saw that this thing, despite its flesh, might very well truly be a machine after all.
The storm grew tighter, and Twilight watched as the windigoes struck out, their storm cutting through the creature’s various tubes. Black fluid spurted out, freezing on contact with the cold air. The creature made no sound, but shook with something that might have been pain. Those tubes were part of what linked the machinery that covered it to the living, writhing material beneath. Cutting them seemed to be injuring it greatly.
The windigoes seemed to be more than a minor inconvenience to the creature, but not to the extent that it was receiving any real damage. Its armored became tighter, bulled closer from beneath. Then it hummed from within, a deep sound that rapidly grew into a ring.
“Silken, down, now!” cried Twilight.
Silken did not drop, but Twilight did, just in time to avoid a sudden blast of concussive magical force. The blast threw back the windigoes, and even forced Silken to take a step back. Twilight felt the blast pour against her horn, feeding directly into her brain. Her mind darkened from the blow, and she was distantly aware that she was beginning to convulse.
She was still conscious enough to see the metal creature stand tall- -far taller than it should have been able to, as if its body had extended and grown substantially larger- -and to see a set of four gray, mutated wings burst from its back. The wings spread, reaching out, and as they stretched thousands of small blue feathers burst from their surface. The mechanical creature then flapped the great wings and took to the air. Despite the size and bird-like nature of the wings, it flew more like an insect; it seemed to have no ability to control its course, and simply moved upward, bouncing between trees until it was a good distance from the windigoes. When it reached that tree, its body had already changed again. It was flat and rounded, with legs and tentacles and appendages going outward at every angle like some kind of perverse and asymmetrical beetle. A combination of both electronic lenses and violet-irised eyes stared down at the landscape below, although not at the windigoes. Instead, they were focused purely on Twilight Sparkle.
Then it retreated, jumping with extreme speed and dexterity through the trees before vanishing completely.
Twilight attempted to stand, but fell back to her knees. Her helmet contained a great deal more golden fluid than before. In the heat of the encounter, she had not noticed just how badly it had injured her.
“We appear to be surrounded,” noted Silken.
Twilight looked up through her blurred vision. Indeed, she was correct. The windigoes had not left with the creature- -and they were now closing in on Twilight and Silken from all sides, drifting closer as the mist drew nearer.
“The temperature is getting dangerously cold,” said Silken. “My body can function, but your morphiplasm was not intended to function in air temperatures below a certain point.”
“I’m hurt,” said Twilight. “I’m hurt bad.”
“I can see that. But unless you can use magic, I have no defense against ectoplasmic beings.” She looked up at them. “Although, being an artificial being, I am not sure if they can actually see me.”
Twilight struggled to her feet, because she knew that Silken was right. Windigoes were a profoundly dangerous type of creature. They had nearly been extinct in her own time, but had been a plague on the land as the final ice-age had set in during Equestria’s final years. They fed on hatred and disagreement, and they had found more than enough food on Equestria in that era. Now, though, they must have been starving.
Except that they stopped. Twilight had braced for an attack, but none came. She instead found herself standing in the center of a misty circle, the cold glow of windigo eyes staring at her from every angle. As she watched, a pair stepped forward. They were taller than the others, and their bodies not only contained the complex markings that some of the others did, but they appeared to be ornamented as well. By what, Twilight did not know, as the material was as ghostly and translucent as their bodies.
A pair of circles appeared next to each of them, and Silken braced for an attack. They were the same distortions of air that had been used to attack the creature before. Instead of an attack, though, the circles were filled with symbols of ice. They shifted, forming and breaking apart only to fall to the ground as sparkling dust. Twilight watched the symbols passing, feeling like she was supposed to understand something. Had she been healthy and uninjured, she might have.
“Silken…”
Then all at once it stopped. The air grew quiet, and the windigoes seemed to become alert to something. Twilight winced and cried out as she felt a new force in her mind, an oppressive presence. The windigoes seemed to sense it too, and they retreated, returning to the mist where they had come and vanishing into it. Only the two largest of them stayed, and even they stepped to the side, forming a gap between them.
That was when it stepped through. Twilight’s vision blurred and strained trying to look at it, but she saw it closely enough to see its general shape and nature. It was tall, twice the size of the windigoes and probably twice as tall as Silken- -although its height was not consistent. It moved like a quadruped, but it had no physical form. Instead, it seemed to consist of a number of independent luminescent pieces. These were in continual flux, flowing and pouring over each other, building and reassembling as the whole that they produced moved closer.
From the way it walked, it seemed as though it was a quadruped- -but at the same time, it often pulled together enough of a form to look something like a windigo. Twilight saw a head, and appendages like legs- -and sometimes eyes.
It stopped in front of Twilight, and the pattern slowed. It had a body, but at the same time it did not. Instead there was energy, and energy that quite clearly was trying to mimic something.
“What are you?” whispered Twilight.
She received no answer. Whatever this thing was- -a type of windigo, or even a phenomenon without life or name- -only continued to exist, separated from Twilight and Silken by ten intervening meters. Twilight could feel the magic emanating from something, and once again she had the feeling that she was meant to understand but somehow could not remember. It had been too long.
Then it started to move forward. The force on Twilight’s mind became even greater. She could hear things in her thoughts, and her vision began to fade. There were sounds she could not understand, and she did not know why.
The world faded, and then vanished entirely. The last thing Twilight felt was her body beginning to fall- -and a long, thin leg wrapping around her body.
Twilight gasped and lurched upward. She immediately attempted to engage her morphiplasm suit to attempt a diagnostic analysis.
“Silken, it had better not have been eight weeks this…time…”
No diagnostic readout appeared. Twilight reached for her head in a panic and felt nothing but her own skin. She was not wearing her suit, or even her jewelry- -she was naked.
That was when she realized where she was. Around her stood a dark castle built of something not unlike stone with high vaulted ceilings. On the walls hung tapestries and containers of fresh, blooming lavender. Long hallways seemed to emerge in every direction, leading off into darkness and to places that no pony was meant to go.
“Great,” groaned Twilight, putting her hoof against her head. “This is exactly what I needed.”
As much as she would be rather doing literally anything else, Twilight stood up. As she did, she focused on her nude body, allowing the aetherite jewelry to appear around her. She had become quite accustomed to it, and even in this place she felt a need to maintain some level of dignity.
She proceeded through the long, curving hall. It was empty and silent, save for the sound of her hooves tapping on the perfectly smooth cyclopean surface below, a system of stones of many dark colors forged into tiles in shades of dark green and black, only interrupted by the speckles of mica and native metal imbedded within.
Neither distance nor time were relevant in this place, and Twilight passed easily toward where she was allowed to. Had she desired to, she could have taken the seemingly endless hallways to either side, or even opened the thousands upon thousands of doors within their deepest perimeters, but she saw no reason to waste her time. In this case, it was better to stay in the central part of the castle. The size of it was already indefinite enough as it was.
When she arrived in the central room, it was as beautiful as she remembered from the many times she had been here before. The far edges of the stone floor gave way to rivers of cold, clear water that flowed gently through river-like channels on either side and through the space between the rocks below Twilight’s feet. Beneath the water’s surface were bright crystals, and their light was rendered into quiet waves by the water over them. In the way that the floor was made of rock and water, the enormous ceiling was painted with stars and planets in a seemingly endless starchart of all explored space.
The pony atop the pyramid at the far end of the room stood. “Twilight Sparkle.”
“Luna.”
Luna stood and descended her altar. Her body was tall and perfect, armored in carved moonstone. Seeing her, Twilight felt an urge to bow, but she resisted. Her state was already precarious; more humiliation would only make the situation worse.
“How goes the mission?” inquired Luna.
“It is progressing adequately.”
Luna raised an eyebrow. “Really, Twilight Sparkle? If it is going so smoothly, then why are you here?”
“I encountered…setbacks. I was rendered unconscious.”
“Indeed you were.”
“But it is only a setback. The recovery effort will take some time, but it will succeed.”
“And the planet?”
“What about it?”
“Twilight Sparkle, it is the planet we called home for so many millennia. I wish to know what is the state of it.”
“Hostile,” said Twilight, simply. “There is life here, but nothing but monsters.”
“In your expert opinion, what is the chance of successful terraforming?”
“Zero. There is no point.”
“I see.”
“Luna, you know I would not have come here unless I had to.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” said Luna. She turned and walked toward the stream, taking a moment to look down at her distorted reflection. She then turned back to Twilight. “In the spirit of honesty, though, I must inform you that I was against sending you on this mission from the start.”
“Against it?” Twilight took a step forward angrily. “Luna, you’ve seen the same things I’ve seen! Eight thousand years ago, our subjects numbered in the billions! Hundreds of billions upon billions of immortal ponies, spread throughout the vastness of space! Do you know how many there are now? Less than two million! TWO MILLION!”
“I am well aware of the demographic shift,” snapped Luna, turning suddenly. “More so than you could perhaps ever be. I see it in their dreams, how each day fewer and fewer go to sleep…and how fewer than that wake up again. But our golden age had already long since passed! Hundreds of billions? One hundred millennia ago, that number approached ten thousand times that.”
“So I should just give up? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Twilight, that is not what I mean.”
“Then what? I should just let them die? Luna, this is the only option! We need Cadence!”
“She already gave herself once for the prosperity of her people,” said Luna, “do you think it is right to ask that of her again?”
“Right and wrong does not matter to me,” said Twilight. “It never has. Only success.”
Luna’s eyes narrowed, and she took a graceful step forward. “Even if it means approaching that cursed planet?”
“I would give my life for our kind, if it were possible.”
“Don’t think that it isn’t,” snapped Luna. “You of all ponies should know. You were there with Cadence. Our immortality has limits. As it did for her. And for me.”
“I’m strong enough to survive.”
“On that planet?” Luna leaned closer, “the one planet that we forced ourselves to forget, because of what it did to us? Recall, Twilight Sparkle, that it is because of the weapons built on that planet that I will never again be able to walk amongst the living, or to see the night sky with my own eyes.”
For a moment, Luna’s form shifted, and Twilight was able to see the immortal scars that had rendered her body nearly inert. This was the land of dreams, and Luna was the one god of this realm- -but in the waking world, what remained of her body would never again be able to rise from sleep.
Twilight was forced to turn away, even as Luna resumed the beautiful form of what she had once been. “You saw it, didn’t you?” she said. “It must still be there. My moon. The cities where my beloved followers once dwelt.”
“Those weapons don’t exist anymore,” insisted Twilight, “I didn’t just destroy them. I erased them from history. No written record remains in any form. I am the last pony who knows their construction.”
“Can you really be that much of a fool?”
“Luna…”
“What has been done cannot be undone. What has been created cannot be forgotten so easily. You may have spent centuries burying our failures, but there are those who would gladly spend ten times as long to bring back the secrets of the past.”
“It isn’t possible.”
“So you claim,” said Luna, “but they still exist. There are things buried on that planet, secrets that neither of us would care to ever allow to be recovered. It is on Equestria that we nearly met our undoing. The very planet on which you now lie sleeping.”
“This is our only hope,” said Twilight. “Your concern is noted, Goddess Luna, but I have the right to make my own decisions.”
“That you do,” said Luna. Four dark forms appeared around her; tall alicorns whose bodies were pure black. They were her elite Priestesses, mares who had given up their physical bodies to be put in an endless coma at the side of the resting chamber of their goddess in her temple. Luna nodded to them as they bowed, and joined them as she retreated toward the depths of a world of her own creation. “Let us hope that your decisions do not lead us to ruin.”
“They will not,” said Twilight. “I will save ponykind. We will survive.”
“We always survive, Twilight. Such is the nature of the pure alicorns. And I shall watch you, to know your progress- -but know that things are not as they seem. There is something on that planet. I know not what, but I can sense it, drifting on the edge of my perception.”
“What sort of thing?”
“I cannot yet say.” She paused, and looked to her black priestesses. “That which becomes dreams, I suppose. But that is not your concern. Not yet.”
“Then what is?”
“That something is moving against you. I do not know what.” Her eyes met Twilight’s. “Those that do not dream.” �P0ɛ�.
The installation was nearing completion. He captain had elected to see it with her own eyes, as bad as they were. Although doing so was somewhat difficult, the arm that suspended her had moved her through the ship- -a journey that she did not take often enough- -to the bay in the center of the vessel that had been specifically constructed to support the mechanism.
A crew of remni, assisted by several organic pony technicians, were hard at work finishing linking the object to the ship’s central power systems and internal aetherite skeleton. It was larger than the captain had expected; the condensed version that the cultists had brought onboard had folded surprisingly well and must have been incredibly heavy. The device, now unfurled and extended, filled most of the bay. It still held a roughly cylindrical shape, although now some elements of the technology within were still visible.
“Captain,” said the leader of the technician group and the one in charge of the installation, a remnus named Journey End. Despite being artificial and reliant on direct orders, she technically ranked higher than half the ship. Identifying her was something of a challenge, though; all remni looked nearly identical to the untrained eye. “The device has now been fully integrated into the ships system. It is ready for use at your command.”
“Thank you, End. Were than any anomalies in the process?”
“No, captain. In fact, it was surprisingly simple to connect.”
The captain’s physical eyes shifted toward the ship, and then back to the remnus. “Thank you. That will be all.”
End bowed, and then stepped back to collect those under her command. The captain turned to her chief advisors, who were already in the process of examining the machine.
“Golden Star,” said the captain, the robotic arm that held her pulling her closer to him. “Have you completed your analysis?”
“I have,” he said with some level of dismay.
“And?”
“And it is inconclusive. The technology is more advanced than most currently found in Tribunal space, but includes numerous arcane elements. It is beyond my capacity to comprehend.”
“Of course you wouldn’t,” said the captain, softly. It was what she had been afraid of, but what she had known at some level from the start. “Can you surmise its function?”
“I can,” said Golden Star, “although I cannot guarantee accuracy.”
“I trust your opinion and skill. Or else you would not be here.”
Golden Star nodded. “It appears to be a technomagic device. I believe the far end to be an aperture, or an emitter. But it may also be a sinking device for excess magical buildup. Because of that, I cannot safely suggest what function this object serves.”
“I don’t like this,” said Heliotrope. She and Inky Nebula had been conversing with the technicians who had been installing it, and from the looks on their faces the captain could tell that they had found nothing new either.
“Neither do I,” said the captain, looking back at the long machine.
“It is supposedly interfaced to your systems,” said Inky Nebula. “Can you not sense it?”
“No,” said the captain. “I do not have access to it. I perceive its demands, but not its internal systems. To me, it is like looking into a black box that I cannot open.” She paused. Waxing poetic was not usually in her nature, but it was the only way to describe it.
“Just looking at it makes me feel bad,” said Heliotrope, bluntly. She turned to the captain. “I hereby submit my protest to its presence.”
“Heliotrope!” gasped Inky Nebula.
“Your protest is noted,” replied the captain. “And for the sake of honesty, I agree.” She did not delve in further, but she knew what she felt, and why. Her formerly immortal body had been sacrificed for the sake of this ship, and it had become her new body. Having this thing linked to her felt like a violation of that very body. “But this is in accordance with a direct order from the Goddess of a Billion Suns.” She looked up at them. “A DIRECT order. In the past, to even witness the dread god Celestia would have resulted in us becoming saints. And she gave us an order.”
“We have to complete it,” said Golden Star. “Her will must be correct. I mean…can we even distrust Celestia?”
“No,” said the captain, “but it was never her that I distrusted.”
“Then who?” asked Inky Nebula.
“You know,” said the captain, turning sharply toward Inky Nebula and drifting toward her. “That cultist. Twilight Sparkle herself is an arrogant, obsessive nihilist, but I could at least tolerate her. But I do not now nor have I ever trusted the wizards that follow her teachings.” The captain suddenly lurched forward, drawing her face close to Inky Nebula’s. Inky Nebula took a panicked step back. “And I don’t care if you know it.”
“Cap- -captain? What are you doing?”
“I’m not blind, Light Gloom, even if my eyes are dying. In any other circumstance, I would have you thrown off my ship for an insult this dire.”
“Captain, I don’t understand! What did I do wrong?”
Inky Nebula looked as though she was on the verge of tears. “You did nothing wrong,” said the captain, reassuring her, “but when he touched you, he installed a nanotech virus into your auxiliary neural architecture. He’s been watching me through your eyes, thinking your thoughts.”
Inky Nebula gasped, but Heliotrope stepped forward quickly. “Direct nanotech access to the auxiliary architecture can have lasting repercussions,” she said, quickly. “Inky Nebula, this requires immediate action.” She turned to the captain.
“Of course,” said the captain. Before she allowed them to leave, though, she looked deep in to Inky Nebula’s enormous black eyes one more time. She was afraid, and that made it difficult for the captain to control her anger. “But you. Light Gloom. If you put another of my crew in danger, I will have you thrown off my ship, assuming I don’t vaporize it with the outer fields first. My mission was reach this planet and have this device installed. I do not know what it is for, and by Celestia’s will I do not need to- -but you are extraneous to that goal. Keep that in mind.”
Light Gloom stared back into the captain’s nearly blind eyes, the eyes beneath his optics staring into the illusion without focusing. This turn of events had been unexpected, but in the end irrelevant. It had been his opinion that military types like her would be unobservant and easy enough to trick. The case had in fact been the opposite, and this intrigued him to some extent. He realized that he should have expected as much from an eighth-generation descendant of the Holy Mother.
He allowed the illusion to fade. The room that he had stood in in Inky Nebula- -five hundred and sixth generation descendent of the Holy Mother, twentieth in a long line of Lunar Cultists- -dissipated as his optical units came back on line, filling his view with the darkened room around him.
For the sake of expediency, he had elected to stay on the Royal Navy vessel. It felt strange moving in a gaseous rather than liquid atmosphere, but the conditions inside his hermetically sealed suit were constant and the change was not too substantial. Even if they had been, in his current state he probably would hardly have cared.
By placing himself on their ship, he ensured that they would not simply push his own ship away- -not that even that mattered terribly much; the payload was already onboard. His mission was, arguably, complete- -but the objective had not yet been achieved, and he did not intend to leave it to chance.
Light Gloom was not alone in the darkened room. Behind him stood two ponies dressed in similar armor, their cybernetic appendages curled along their backs and inactive. One was a large mare, while the other was a stallion of normal size.
“Luminescence,” he said, addressing the thin stallion. “Go to that room. Ensure that they do not attempt to disconnect the device.”
“Yes, High Priest,” she said, turning toward the shadows at the edge of the room.
“I am matching it to our ship’s frontal array,” said Light Gloom as his mind interfaced remotely with the spells that gave his ship life. “I am locking the weapon onto Twilight Sparkle’s position.”
Luminescence stopped. He turned toward his leader. “Shall I prepare the unit to fire?”
Light Gloom turned slowly. “Do you think me impious, Luminescence?”
Luminescence took a long moment to respond. Light Gloom took some satisfaction in that. Although the Cult placed incredible value on quick thinking, it placed an even higher premium on correct responses. The fact that Luminescence took time to consider meant that he had taken the Teachings to heart- -or, rather, to the mechanical thing he had in place of a heart.
“Your piety is irrelevant to me and to the mission,” he said at last. “This choice, though, falls at your discretion. I allow my question to stand.”
Light Gloom smiled under his mask. “Indeed,” he said. “Ensure it is prepared, but do so discretely. Even if my virus was discovered, we do know that they are too ignorant to realize what the machine is. Likewise, they are likely to ignorant to tolerate its purpose.” He paused. “That machine is the culmination of countless centuries of combined work by hundreds of scholars, engineers, and elite mages, including myself. Take good care of it, and ensure it is ready.”
“At your will, High Priest.”
Luminescence bowed, and went to work. Light Gloom returned to looking at a blank, darkened wall- -or at least superficially doing so. In actuality, he was linking himself to the other members of his crew as they moved through the ship, combining them into a single listening network. The virus had been created on a whim for the sake of scientific inquiry- -it was not required to know what the fools of this ship were speaking about when they thought nopony was listening.
“Would you have?” said the large mare. She had remained in the room, and glared into the back of Light Gloom’s hood with the asymmetrical combination of lenses, cameras, and abstract shapes that made up the face of her mask.
“That is an improper question,” he said. “What you mean is ‘would I be willing to fire’ on the Goddess?”
“Would you?” repeated the mare.
“Of course,” said Light Gloom, without hesitation. “And before you bother, I do know the full implication of that course of action. The beam is more than strong enough to atomize the planet…and to wound a pure alicorn in ways that she cannot recover from. A direct hit would be fatal.”
“You would slay your own god?”
Light Gloom turned toward her. “You say it as though it is an illogical conclusion.” The mare did not answer. She stared at him, awaiting an explanation. Light Gloom sighed. “I am a religious stallion. I have dedicated my very, very long life to the Will of the Goddess: the pursuit of knowledge, information, and the arcane, a dedication to scholarship and learning. A lifetime of it.” The mare still did not speak. “But beyond that, I have other duties. To the Cult. I am a Priest. It is my duty to interpret the Will of the Goddess.”
“The Will of the Goddess would be for herself to be destroyed?”
“Yes. If the Goddess stands in the way of her Will, the destiny she herself created, then why not? That is the trouble with living gods, isn’t it? They have free will. They can resist the world they chose to make.”
“You are either insane or a heretic.”
“I am not insane,” said Light Gloom. “Nor am I a heretic. What Twilight Sparkle says or thinks is irrelevant to the mission, and to destiny itself. Only her actions and choices matter, and they cannot be changed now.”
“If she knew this…”
“And that is the reason she is down there, and I am up here.” Light Gloom paused. “Of course, this is entirely hypothetical. The Goddess is like a mother to me, an idol, a teacher. I love her, and I do not intend to destroy her.”
“Then why target her?”
“Because she will lead the beam to its true target. Once she finds Mi’Amore Cadenza, Twilight will be evacuated to my ship, and will no doubt survive the blast. With one blow, I will cure the Mortality Virus as Twilight Sparkle intended me to. I built a weapon that can destroy an alicorn, and it will be used as such…but not on my Goddess.”
The mare stared on impassively as Light Gloom returned to his preparations. She could easily have stopped him- -but chose not to.
Twilight snapped awake and sat up with a gasp. For a moment, she was unable to see and she found herself wondering if she had gone blind. Then she noticed that as dark as the area was around her, the HUD in her suit was still glowing with information on her surroundings. After a few seconds, the combination of the morphiplasm screen and her own eyes adjusting rendered Twilight able to see that she was once again in some kind of dark cave. Silken was standing beside her, waiting patiently.
“You!” cried Twilight. “How long was I out? And if it was eight weeks again- -”
“Only twelve hours,” said Silken, smiling cheerfully. “See, this time you remembered to ask! Wasn’t that easy?”
Twilight pointed at her angrily. “You had better not have touched my brain again!”
“I considered it,” admitted Silken, “but on close inspection of the injury, I did not dare to risk it.”
“Injury?” Had Twilight’s various sweat orifices not been filled with morphiplasm, she would have broken out into a sweat. Her stomach- -she had not eaten in some time- -suddenly felt queasy. “How bad?”
“You sustained a sharp-force brain injury to the base of your horn.”
As bad as she had felt before, Twilight’s heart sunk. “How deep?”
“Deep. Well into the corpus callosum. Attempting to reconnect it without medical training- -or even with it- -would risk horn necrosis to you, and a potential detonation that would render both of us inert for some time. Or permanently, in my case.”
“It will heal,” said Twilight. “I have had my horn torn from my body exactly eight times. It is not a number you can forget. It grew back every time.”
“How long did it take to regenerate?”
“The longest was about seventy years, I think.”
“Was it a nub?”
“Excuse me?”
“When it was growing back. Did it start out as an adorable little nub?”
Twilight glared at Silken and ground her teeth out of frustration. “Yes,” she said. “It was a little nub. For several decades. And when you spend most of your time with Celestia, that’s really, REALLY embarrassing. You will never speak of this topic again.” Twilight attempted to stand up. She nearly screamed. Her entire body ached, especially her head. As she stood shaking the world began to swirl and she tipped. Silken gracefully steadied her.
“You also lost a lot of blood,” said Silken, “I tried to save what I could and put it back in, but a lot fell on the ground and got dirty. It did not seem sanitary.”
“Of course it isn’t! Keep your mitts off my blood! Ugh…” Twilight pushed Silken away. “I’m fine! Let go!”
Silken let go, and Twilight wobbled for a moment before standing upright. She instead looked around on the cave and found that it was substantially larger than the one that had woken up in before. In fact, she was only able to see the floor and that it was oddly smooth. Beyond that was darkness.
Still annoyed, Twilight lit her horn- -or tried to. The tip flashed weakly, and a small spurt of energy drifted down from it. Even more annoyed, Twilight tried again- -and the same thing happened. “Great,” she said, followed by some quiet swearing. It was something she had expected but hoped she had somehow miraculously avoided. The damage to her horn had severed much of the connection between the organ and her brain, leaving her largely without the use of her magic until it healed. “Well, that’s what happens when we let ourselves hope,” she muttered.
“Your magic has been damaged,” noted Silken.
“No, you think?”
“No. Not at all. I’m a remnus, we’re not built for that.”
Twilight’s headache grew worse. “Where even are we? What is it with you and caves?”
“They make me feel peaceful. When you lost consciousness, I was forced to intervene. The blue windigo charged you, and I needed to protect you from the attack. It pursued with great speed, and I was unable to outrun it. I was forced into this cave.”
“And where is it now?”
“Outside the cave. It followed me for some time, but turned back after a certain depth.”
“So, let me get this straight, Silken. You went into a cave that creatures that are drawn to pain, disharmony, suffering and disease weren’t willing to enter?”
“Yes!” said Silken, smiling. “It certainly was lucky they didn’t want to come down here! The blue one was awfully fast.”
The situation had decayed, and Twilight put her hoof to her throbbing forehead. She could not feel her horn- -it was the only part of her exposed- -and it felt numb on half of it. That was a bad sign.
“I can’t produce a light spell,” she said. “The simplest, easiest spell to do, and I can’t make one right now.”
“Then the responsibility falls to me.” Silken stepped forward to stand beside Twilight. As she did, the surface of her chest split in a line running from her chin to where ribs would have started if she had any. The split revealed some of the pale metallic superstructure beneath her hard artificial skin, but also a series of evenly spaced lights that illuminated the darkness with an almost painfully crisp whiteness.
The light was powerful, but the expanse of the cave was far greater than Twilight had initially expected. At first, all she could see was the floor, and that was how she first began to realize that something was wrong. Cave floors usually consisted of rock that had been weathered away by some sort of water. This one was rock- -or appeared to be. Instead of being a smooth, weathered floor, though, it consisted of a number of identical, perfectly cut hexagons, each one nearly twenty meters wide.
Then the light struck the wall, and Twilight understood. They were not in a cave at all. Before her lay a perfectly flat surface, one that leaned against the rear wall to form an immensely long hall that was roughly triangular in cross-section. The surface was not natural. Twilight could see holes that had once been places for windows, now all long-since broken, and she could see places where the water-streaked material of the exterior had been broken away to reveal the heavily tarnished but still strong golden-colored metal beneath.
“That’s a building,” she said, taking a step back toward what she was sure was no doubt the remnants of other long-collapsed structures. “That’s…that’s a building!”
“Are you sure?” said Silken.
“Of course I’m sure!” Twilight checked the parameters that her suit was giving her. The air outside was stagnant and very old, having built up toxic gasses for a very long time. “It…it must have been collapsed during the Final Troubles. Or maybe the foundation failed after a few millennia, I don’t know.”
“It is remarkably well preserved.”
“It looks like a later model, one from the last centuries we were here…I knew they were durable, but…” Twilight caught her breath, and thought logically. “It must have been preserved here underground where the weathering forces are weaker.” Twilight looked down the corridor. Silken turned slightly, revealing rubble and the remains of smaller buildings, as well as the glimmering of shattered glass. “This was a city,” she said. “These aren’t caves. They’re the space between the rubble.”
“A city?”
Twilight nodded. “Ground-based dwellings. I remember…” She struggled to recall. “Yes. There was one that surrounded my castle. But I don’t remember what it was called.”
“They do not look like the ones on the outside.”
“They shouldn’t. These are far, far older.”
“But they have still been stripped of all machinery.”
Twilight looked up. “What do you mean ‘stripped’?”
“I am not detecting any metallic items, furniture, or machines. Not even wire in the electrical systems.”
“It must have decayed,” said Twilight. “Oxidized.” Except for the fact that the alloy in the electrical grid and emergency hardwire systems did not rust, not even down here. “But it is weird…just like the cities above…”
“There is one difference, though.”
“What?”
“There are bones here. A lot of bones.”
Twilight shivered, suddenly feeling incredibly uncomfortable. “I don’t like it down here,” she said.
“Because it is something you recognized now dead?”
“No. Because this was part of my territory. We’re nowhere near the Crystal Empire.” She started walking. “We need to get out of here and get back to work. Which way did you come in?”
“That way,” said Silken, pointing. “But I think the windigoes are waiting for us there. They won’t let us leave without a fight. And in your current state…”
“Then we go the other way,” said Twilight.
“Excuse me?”
Twilight pointed at the floor. “This was once a road. We’ll follow it where it goes. Move through the ruins until we get to another exit. Or until my horn heals and I can blast my way out of here.”
“This place does not seem stable,” warned Silken.
“It’s been here for half a million years. If it hasn’t collapsed yet, I don’t think it’s going to now.”
Almost as if to punctuate Twilight’s sentence, something somewhere in the distance shifted, producing a sound from some unseen part of the ancient structure shifting with a sepulchral moan, followed by the sound of something metallic striking the ground.
“Probably,” added Twilight, hoping that she was right.
As they wandered, some of the memories returned to Twilight. She had spent so much time on the decks of ever-advancing lines of spacecraft as she had led her kind ever deeper into the void of space that the memories of what Equestria had once held had begun to fade. Seeing what remained underground allowed her to recall what had once been.
They had possessed a certain cold majesty that the deep-space megastructures- -themselves now long-since abandoned now as well- -lacked. The megastructures took many forms, but in every case grew in three dimensions. Without gravity, there was no reason not to. The ancient cities, though, had sprung forth from a flat plane. Now as she walked through their remains, Twilight recalled how these towers had once stood hundreds of miles above Equestria, stretching from the land and oceans beyond the atmosphere itself as if reaching for the space that ponies would one day not be able to avoid inhabiting.
The cities had covered most of the planet. The population had stood in the tens of trillions. They were gone now. The ponies had gone the route that all ponies of that era had gone, and lay- -if they were lucky- -in cemeteries whose location had been forgotten hundreds of generations ago. The cities, likewise, had fallen. Even at their peak, when Equestria’s technology was at its height, they had required constant maintenance. Those systems had failed quickly, though. The buildings had likely kept standing- -one hundred, one thousand, perhaps ten thousand years- -before they succumbed to nature. The slow forces of wind, rain, ice and snow had slowly eroded them, bending and warping their superstructures. Earthquakes and the ever-expanding mass of glaciers had destroyed the rest.
Yet they still remain. Twilight had no doubt about that now. Some remains of them were buried, like this one, beneath miles of ice or endless tons of rock that the very glaciers that had knocked the skyscrapers down had deposited. The roots of vast trees permeated them, pulling them apart slowly and each year adding feet of leaves as the soil of Equestria slowly swallowed them whole.
The ruins were complicated. Buildings had fallen against each other at angles, and the remains of some were left supporting the fallen bodies of others. This meant that there were all manner of odd caverns and spaces between them, some vast and some miniscule. Many were caved in, but there was more than enough space for a pony and a remnus to move through for the most part.
Except that the only direction they seemed to go was deeper. Twilight began to wonder how far down they actually were, and if the land above was rock, ice, or even if it contained the new city build overhead by a new race that had risen and died in the time she had been away.
These thoughts grew, and after several hours- -or days- -Twilight found herself wandering along the inner border of what had once been the base of the building. When these had been constructed, this particular part was called the “root” of the building, a substantial underground portion meant to anchor the immense towers to the rock below. The fact that they were even in the root at all meant that they were likely miles underneath what had once been Equestria’s surface.
The building had apparently been unfinished. It showed no signs of ever having been occupied, and the floors in many places had been left incomplete, sometimes with the mounting brackets for the construction equipment still attached. What once would have been at least thirty miles high was likely now only one or two deep, a massive square chamber measuring several kilometers on each side. All of it now stood silent, save for the dripping and rushing of distant water and the occasional low creak of the earth itself moving around them.
“It’s telling, isn’t it,” said Twilight. It was not really a question so much as it was a statement.
“What is, Goddess?”
“These buildings. At one time, pony architects spent their lives designing them. They did not live as long back then. They hadn’t become immortal yet. Each of these buildings are somepony’s masterwork.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning they spent all that effort, all that dedication, all that time, energy, and passion…and now here it is. Broken, lost, and forgotten. We are the only being who will ever see it, left behind broken and destroyed. Their creative contributions to Equestria were pointless.”
“I don’t know if I’d say that,” said Silken, “I’m sure they were useful for a long time. And we’re seeing them, aren’t we? Even if it’s just you that sees it, it’s still worth it.”
“Seeing the work of an artist who died half a million years ago,” said Twilight. “One whose entire bloodline is gone now. No. I disagree with you. I don’t think their lives had a point.”
They walked a few more steps, and Silken’s eyes swiveled toward Twilight. “Did ponies really design these buildings?”
“No. Of course not,” said Twilight. “They were designed by computers and built by robots. The ponies of this era contributed nothing at all, let alone anything anypony would ever remember.”
They continued on, taking the unfinished stone stairs of the building downward for some time before reaching a branch point. It led to a darker tunnel, one that was not as apparently artificial as the rest of the building. Twilight realized that they were getting deeper, below the part of the city and into things that would have been forgotten at the times of its construction.
“Should we go down it?” asked Silken.
Twilight looked down the rest of the stairs and into the blackness below. “The root probably goes down another mile, and beyond that will be basic utilities. If those are still passable, I don’t want to be in them. I say we try it.”
Silken nodded in agreement- -as a machine, she was somewhat obligated to agree with Twilight’s orders constantly- -and they entered the offshoot. It was, indeed, stony and dark, although there were portions that showed what Twilight thought was probably extremely old brick. That was both a good and bad sign. It meant that ponies had been here- -but it also meant that they were no longer in the original city, where the buildings were cast as single pieces.
At first, the tunnel dropped, but then began to rise. This was a good sign, and it encouraged Twilight to push forward when the passage narrowed in some points. Silken, being far thinner than Twilight despite her height, was able to move through them with ease. She was extremely agile and almost pliable, reminding Twilight of how ponies had once been. The time when ponies had been like that, though, had occurred long after she was born. Her passage through the gaps was awkward and clumsy without the use of her magic to aid in disintegrating the obstacles out of her path or to teleport her past them.
At one particular point, after barely managing to squeeze through, Twilight fell flat on her face. She looked up and quickly stood. “No, really,” she said, “thank you for your help.”
“Your welcome,” said Silken, who was staring at the ceiling of the now much wider cavern.
“I was being sarcastic.”
“Again, please preface sarcasm by noting that it is such. I cannot understand it otherwise.”
“Fine. You are the best assistant I’ve ever had. Sarcasm.”
“See. That was not difficult, was it?” Silken sounded oddly unenthused, and she had not taken her eyes off the ceiling.
Twilight looked up. “What are you looking at?”
Silken pointed, and as she did her lights fell on a large, perfectly round hole that was oblique to the more chaotic surface of the cave. “That hole.”
“It’s a hole.”
“It is one of many holes. I have seen several like it. Many in the city, in the far parts, but more down here. I wonder what they are for. Perhaps dug by some creature?”
Twilight shivered. In the time they had spent wandering underground, she had already come to realize that they were not alone. The primary form of life seemed to consist of strange bipedal creatures with bluish, chitinous skin and upper limbs that terminated in points of indeterminate function rather than hands. They had no heads- -instead, each had a globular and highly reflective organ in its chest- -and they made a distressing and unpleasant warbling sound. They had clearly not built the tunnels, though; the tunnels were at least forty feet wide, and the bipeds were far too small and seemed far to primitive.
Suddenly, a cockroach ran by. Twilight nearly screamed as she jumped.
“Oop,” said Silken, pointing. “There’s some life right now! I know that one!”
“Eew eew eew!” cried Twilight as the cockroach spread its wings and took flight down the hall, bumping into the walls several time as it went. “So gross!”
“I find them pleasant,” said Silken. “Although one time one did lay eggs inside me. A lot of eggs. So very many eggs. When they hatched- -”
“Stop talking!” Silken did, and Twilight pushed forward, still thoroughly disgusted. “At least it’s not snakes.” She looked up at the perfect hole over her. “It had better not be snakes…”
They moved down the tunnel until its termination point. Much like how it had originated at the root of one building, it ended at one as well. This building- -or what was left of it- -had at one time been complete, but it seemed that as it had toppled in ancient times the root had been forced sideways. This left it lying at a slant over a thin ridge that Twilight and Silken followed across the vast perimeter, taking care to step over small streams that ran across the path and down a deep, dark chasm that sat between the ledge and the lower half of the tower root. That hole seemed to stretch down all the way to the bottom.
“We need to be careful,” said Twilight.
“I am always equally careful,” said Silken. “Or, rather, I am never cavalier.”
“Just don’t fall. If I lose you down there, I’m not going back for you.”
“It is not myself that I am concerned about.”
Twilight looked up at the building. “If this one snapped off, there’s a chance that the top of it is near the surface. If we can get to the other side and find a way in, we can probably follow it up at least ten levels, maybe even all the way out. And if this is meltwater- -”
“Goddess,” said Silken, suddenly turning toward Twilight. “I am detecting lifesigns.”
“It’s probably just those freaky- -”
Before Twilight could finish her sentence, Twilight was picked up and shoved into a small alcove. The ground was wet, and Twilight was almost indignant about being caused to become damp until she remembered that she was still covered in a hazard suit. Her first instinct was to yell at Silken, but instead she became quiet. If Silken were behaving like this, it meant that whatever she was detecting was a lot more substantial than wailing bipeds or cockroaches.
Silken looked out from the alcove for a moment, and then retreated to a small tunnel in the rear. “This way,” she whispered.
Twilight followed, and they moved upward slightly through a small trickling stream until they reached a higher point with a different vantage of the tower outside. That was when Twilight saw it, and she barely managed to stifle a gasp in response to how close they had nearly come to disaster.
It was the same kind of creature as they had seen outside before. There was no name for them, but Twilight could tell instantly, even if it did not look exactly the same. This one, like the other, was coated in seemingly random pieces of metal, many of which had been laced into its numerous long, mechanical legs. The pieces, though, were more well aligned and selected; few of them were extensively rusty, and almost all of them were whitish in color either by chance or by having been painted in some primitive fashion. This gave Twilight an impossible idea that this had somehow been rendered pale by living so deep underground, although that was ridiculous.
The flesh of the creature was well-obscured beneath its armor, save for the front end of it. There, it contained three long, parallel, needle-like appendages that were at present aglow with plumes of blue plasma. A beam was being emitted by the three, focusing on a part of the tower where the stone façade had been removed and on the golden colored metal beneath. To Twilight’s amazement, the creature was actually managing to cut through; it had already assembled a perfect line of several pony-sized cubes drawn from the girder.
“What is it doing?” whispered Twilight, lifting herself to get a better look. Almost as soon as she did, Silken shoved her back down- -and the fleshy part of the creature near its frontal emitter erupted with deep-blue irised eyes. They swiveled quickly, their pupils narrowing into vertical slits from the light of the plasma beam, scanning the darkness. For a moment, Twilight was absolutely terrified, and wished she was able to curse at herself as loudly as possible. The thing had heard her.
To her immense relief, though, it did not react. The eyes eventually closed, as if they were going to sleep, and morphed; they ceased to become eyes at all, and instead became thin tendrils of gray, scabbing flesh that reached out in a gentle spiral around the three long needles. As they did, the plasma slowed to a dull glow, and the tendrils removed another block of golden metal.
The creature then suddenly made a sound. It was not words, exactly, but a low rumble by a type of speech organ that Twilight had no conception of. From the darkness around it, there was a sound of metal and clanking before several metallic quadrupeds appeared at the sides of the creature. From their thin and damaged appearance, it was immediately clear that they contained none of the flesh that the major creature did. They were pure machines.
Their engines hummed and belched smoke as the large creature formed several tentacles from its body. These solidified into multi-jointed arms with horrifically asymmetrical hands on the ends, although even before that the creature’s body had already started welding new armor and machinery around them. The arms reached forward, taking several blocks and placing them on the backs of the four-legged machines. The machines sagged under the weight, but managed to balance.
The creature itself took several blocks itself, and then turned. Once again, Twilight thought that she had been discovered, but she saw that in its current state the creature was blind save for the cameras imbedded in what could be thought of as its chest and shoulders. Instead of attacking- -it had seen neither Twilight nor Silken- -it turned and climbed up the stone wall, retreating into one of the perfectly round holes and trailing its long unarmored rear tentacles and gills behind. The robots followed it.
Silken and Twilight sat for a long time in silence, hearing only the sound of the dripping water that they were standing in. After what felt like hours, Silken turned to Twilight. “Well, I suppose we know who made the holes.”
Twilight stood up and jumped down to the main floor. She walked to the side of the building, not once taking her eyes off the holes. They were perfect: all the same size, all spaced equally, and all in a perfectly level line. Twilight began to scan them with what little equipment her suit offered, although she found herself wishing that her magic were still intact for this purpose.
“We need to keep moving,” said Silken. “There are a great deal of holes here. And I have a feeling there are many, many more than just one of those creatures.”
Twilight turned to her suddenly. “There…there are holes.”
Silken looked at Twilight, and then at the holes. “Yes,” she said. “I can see that.”
“No, you don’t understand!” Twilight turned back to them. “Do you have any idea what that means?”
“Not much. No one seemed to be using it.”
“No! This substance!” Twilight put her hoof on the golden metal. Just the slight tap made it ring quietly. “This is structum! It can’t be cut like this!”
Silken looked at Twilight, then at the holes, and then back at Twilight. “Clearly,” she said.
“No, you don’t understand! This alloy isn’t metal, it’s an alchemically prepared substance, it’s like aetherite but with a massive inertial profile.”
“Many substances are prepared using magic.”
“But that’s just it! The reason we used it for all the buildings is because it’s indestructible! Well, not indestructible, it’s still really kind of brittle, but you can’t cut it! It just isn’t possible.” Silken looked to the holes again. “Stop that!”
“I’m just stating an empirical fact.”
“It can only be cut with magic,” said Twilight. “That wasn’t a plasma beam. It was a spell. A very complex spell. That thing was using magic!”
“The atmosphere is contaminated with tremendous quantities of fallout. It is entirely possible that the native life here may have accumulated large quantities of zeroth, and that magic has become commonplace.”
“But that’s unprecedented! Historically, it’s only been unicorns and later alicorns that can do that. Even transplanting marrow and injecting concentrated- -” Twilight suddenly cried out. She had leaned too far to reach the last of the holes, to confirm whether or not it really was exactly square inside. Halfway through her description of a type of experiment that was no longer considered remotely ethical, she fell, tumbling down across the smooth surface of the tower root. She reached out with her magic and with her hooves, attempting to gain purchase, but neither worked well for adhering to the wet, slimy substance. Twilight proceeded to fall into the darkness below.
The building was turned obliquely, so this was not simple falling. Twilight was tumbling, rolling across stone and screaming. At several points she dropped suddenly, slamming into rock and debris but each time rolling farther down the tower. Her suit reacted, reinforcing her exterior and providing some level of padding, but each impact was adequate to knock Twilight’s wind free of her lungs and disorient her greatly.
As Silken faded away into the darkness, so did the lights she carried. Twilight was trapped in the dark, unable to see obstacles or where she was going. This building was supposed to have floors, but they had long-since collapsed, both from the building having tilted and dislodged them as well as the erosion from the glacial meltwater that had been pouring down them for almost five hundred millennia.
Then, all at once, the floor suddenly dropped out. There were no more walls, and no more sound. Twilight was surrounded by nothing at all except blackness as she fell freely downward. With her body and ears covered, there was not even a sense of wind. As she reached terminal velocity, she even felt as though she were not moving at all- -instead, there was just a sensation of floating in empty nothingness.
This- -as well as the numerous impacts on the way down- -dazed Twilight for a moment before her mind restored some sense of logic and she recalled that no matter how deep this hole was, it probably had a bottom. She was an immortal being, but her bones were not indestructible. She had learned from experience that falls at terminal velocity were quite painful.
Twilight retracted the morphiplasm from her back and spread her wings. As they opened, she was suddenly forced sideways. Without a frame of reference, she had deployed her flight organs while sideways. This destabilized her badly, but she managed to compensate. She sat, hovering- -she thought- -as she slowly beat her wings.
Getting a sense of gravity took a moment. Twilight could see nothing, and even the idea of which way was up had become challenging. Worse, without any light source, Twilight had no idea how to get out. The best she could do was light the tip of her horn, although that was barely enough to let her see down to her chest.
Then the room suddenly became brighter. Twilight looked around, still terribly confused, before she looked up and saw a set of white lights descending toward her. She covered her eyes and squinted as the lights grew brighter.
When the lights were extremely close, Twilight realized that they were Silken’s and ascended upward with some difficulty. Life in space where there was no sky to occupy had left her wing muscles weak and inflexible.
“Silken,” she said as she came level with the remus. Silken was falling, although at a ridiculously slow rate. Her descent was similar to that of a feather, with her floating downward at a greatly reduced speed. Considering that Silken weighted several tens of tons, it was a ridiculous sight.
“I’m Mary Poppins!” she cried, looking up at Twilight and Smiling. Then she cleared her throat and regained some of her professionalism. “Goddess. I am so glad I found you. I was beginning to worry. Are you undamaged?”
“I’m fine.”
“Excellent. I was sure you had, well…made a mess at the bottom.”
“If there even is a bottom.”
“Of course there’s a bottom! I’m headed there right now.”
“Well, it’s the wrong way.” Twilight started flying upward. “We need to get back to the top.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” said Silken, looking down toward the blackness below her. “My mass control gyros can negate my effective relative gravitational effect to nearly zero, but they cannot invert it. I cannot move upward. Only down.”
“Wha- -then why in the name of Celestia’s moustache did you jump down the hole?!”
“I was not aware that the Solar Goddess was in possession of facial hair,” said Silken, confused. “And I jumped down because I was concerned that you were injured. I can see that you are not. I am glad. It gladdens me.”
“‘Gladdens’ is not a word,” said Twilight, descending to Silken’s side.
“Yes it is. And why are you descending? Your wings will tire. You need to the ledge while you still can.”
“But you can’t fly. I can try to pull you- -”
“You can barely support yourself.” Silken looked even more confused. “We had discussed this earlier and settled our official protocol. Why are you still here?”
“What are you talking about? I didn’t- -”
“You said that if I fell, you would leave me down here. I jumped, but it is substantively the same. I will now sink to the bottom, and you will depart. This is the last time I will ever see you. Serving you was an honor, Goddess. Be sure to submit the proper loss forms to the Navy when you get back to the ship.”
“I’m not leaving you!”
Silken raised the equivalent of an eyebrow. “Goddess Twilight Sparkle, you have to understand. Appearances to the contrary, I am just a piece of equipment. I act like a pony, but I am not. Leaving me behind should not have an emotional impact in a normal, sane individual.”
“Emotional? What? No!” Twilight pointed upward. “You have the light source! Without you, I can’t see a thing up there! Do you really think I can get out of this place without being able to see? Especially with those…things?”
“Oh,” said Silken. “I did not think of that.”
“Of course you didn’t. You’re a piece of equipment. Like a screwdriver that can’t shut it’s speech hole.”
“Screwdrivers do not ordinarily have ‘speech holes’.”
“I know that! But I’ve determined that you are mission-critical equipment. Congratulations. You’ve been promoted.”
Silken looked perplexed but then smiled broadly. She lifted her tiny pointed hooves and tapped them together. “Yay,” she said. “I am so proud.” Her smile faded quickly, though, into an expression of concern. “But then what about you?”
“Like you said. The hole has to have a bottom. We’ll float down there and wait. If we have to, I’ll just meditate until my horn regenerates and levitate us out. But if we do this, we have to do it together. Because I really, really don’t want to step on a snake in the dark.”
“I am gladdened to know that I am a very important flashlight, Goddess Twilight Sparkle.”
“You should be. Because that is exactly what you are.” Twilight sighed. “Just an important flashlight.”
The descent took time. Eventually, though, Twilight’s feet struck something other than dark air. At first, she felt water, and as she felt herself sinking into it she wondered if there was even ground beneath. Quickly, though, her hooves touched something hard. Although there was water at the bottom of the hole, it was only knee deep.
Silken descended next to her, landing with almost no force and barely producing a ripple. The hole around them had narrowed, and at the bottom Silken’s lights were adequate to illuminate most of the walls at the lower part of the chamber. Twilight could see that the walls were circular and made of gray brick that seemed to spiral upward almost infinitely. The floor beneath the water, likewise, was made of similarly designed pavers.
“This must have been an old cistern,” said Twilight. “Something left over from the Wizard Age. The builders of the tower must have hit it when they were drilling for the root.”
“Not likely,” said Silken, her tiny pupils scanning the walls. “The level of erosion with respect to the material is not consistent with the city above. This area is much newer.”
“Newer? That’s not possible. Your calculations must be off.”
Silken looked down at Twilight. “My normal function is to analyze structural materials with regard to the skeletal structure of starships,” she said, “my mathematics and estimates are not wrong. These bricks were placed here between forty five and one hundred twenty thousand years ago.”
“That’s a wide margin.”
“Yes. It is. If you would like, I can stop to take samples of the materials and the environment and attempt to make a more precise estimate.”
“Sure. Go ahead. That will only take, what, ten months? Sarcasm.”
“I see.”
Twilight looked around the room and found several offshoots cutting into the rock, each one surrounded by a decaying arch draped with vines of some strange fungus that did not need light to grow.
“How far down are we? Are we approaching the planet’s mantle?”
“We have most likely entered it,” said Silken. “Although it appears that the core temperature of the planet is quite low.”
“Geothermal mining,” said Twilight. “I never realized it was this bad…this room should be boiling, but my sensors are saying that it’s 290.”
“Mine are in agreement. However, there is also an indication that the atmosphere differs from the composition above.”
“Radon?”
“No. Thirty percent oxygen, seventy percent nitrogen. Trivial amounts of water vapor and carbon dioxide. No other gasses detected.”
“What? No, that can’t be right. Down this far…”
“I cannot validate my sensors without a second set,” admitted Silken, “but I have no reason to doubt that I am correct.”
“I do. If I have to breathe it.”
“Yes. But my information indicates that this atmosphere is ideal for supporting pony life.”
Twilight looked out at the bottom of what she thought of as a vast well. She spread her wings, stretching them. They ached and were shaking. There was no way she would be able to effectively fly for some time, let alone to attempt to reach the top. Worse, there was no way for her to take Silken with her. They were both trapped.
“Well,” said Twilight, sloshing through the crystal-clear water as she approached one of the offshoot tunnels, “there’s no way back up. We might as well try to find somewhere less damp.”
Something about these caves was different. They were not like the others. Those in the cities had been the result of monolithic buildings collapsing on top of each other, forming layer after layer through the dead city that they had once occupied. Some of those below that were natural caves, carved since then, that traveled through the limestone ground and the remains of ruins that had been forced underground when Twilight was still young. This tunnel was neither of those things, and although Twilight could not place it, it felt different- -and unnerving.
“Do you think we are the first ponies down here?” asked Twilight. She did not know why she asked it; it was not really relevant to anything. She had just needed to break the silence in the dreary halls.
“I am not a pony. And I cannot generate a response to that for sure. However, I see no sign of pony presence in this area.”
“Then what is this?” Twilight stepped closer to one of the stone walls. Silken followed, her lights automatically articulating and locking onto the area where Twilight was pointing. With it illuminated, Twilight was fully able to see what she had suspected she had seen. It was a large circle carved into the stone and filled with strange letters that she was in no way able to read. They were faded and eroded in places, but the gouges to the stone were deep.
“Yes, I saw that,” said Silken. “But I cannot confirm that it was ponies that made it.”
“Well then who did?”
“The markings bear no resemblance to any language in my database.”
“But somepony drew it!”
“Carved it, technically. Yes. That is likely.”
Twilight looked closely at it. “Then what is it?”
“Graffiti, probably,” said Silken. “Or perhaps this was a sacred site, and that was their idol. Or a warning. I do not know. If we had an archeological team, we could assess the area for artifacts.”
Twilight did not respond. Silken was not being sarcastic- -she would have said so- -but an archeological excavation was not an option. This planet indeed had an untold number of secrets that would take millennia to research fully, but they would have to remain that way. There was a reason that nopony had returned to this planet, and reasons why nopony ever would.
Then, as Twilight ran her hoof over one of the symbols- -a four-pointed star- -she felt something. Almost immediately, she pulled her hoof away, thinking she had touched an insect. As she looked closer, though, she instead saw sometime more closely resembling a series of threads. As Twilight watched, they separated from the wall, moving backward away from the light and affixing themselves to the rock at a distance. She saw the glimmer of metal, and then saw it fade to black as they once again became inert.
“What was that?” she said, following the threads. Silken joined her, and they approached where the threads had retracted to. This time, the thin tendrils did not retreat. Twilight did notice, though, that there were more of them. They had spread out over the walls, floor, and ceiling of the tunnel, each quickly leading back to larger trunks that appeared almost geometrically constructed. “Is this fungus?”
“No,” said Silken.
“Well, then, what is it?”
Silken stared at it for a moment. “Inconclusive,” she said. “I cannot currently determine if this substance is a threat. I recommend that we move deeper.”
“Deeper?” Twilight was not thrilled by that idea, but at the same time she felt an old curiosity welling from inside her. “Sure,” she said. “We’ll go five meters. If that’s not enough, we turn back.”
Silken nodded, and the two of them walked farther, the whole while keeping their eyes on the black substance that was growing increasingly thick on the walls. What had at first been long tendrils and trunks quickly became large, dark-colored objects that coated the walls. Just as Twilight began to stop, several large nodes opened- -almost as though they were blooming- -revealing transparent tubes within. The tubes flickered, and the room was flooded with orange light.
More lights illuminated further down the tunnel, revealing that it was overgrown with silver and black. The substance, whatever it was, existed in a way that resembled an organic growth- -but at the same time, there were areas where it appeared to differentiate and divide, developing into large machines of various types and unknown functions. Those were not grown with any distinct order, but they were connected in a way that almost seemed to have purpose and function.
“Silken,” said Twilight, sternly, “I need an answer on this. NOW.”
Silken turned toward the walls, focusing on them through her holographic visor. “I do not have a rubric to compare this type of life form with.”
“Life form? So it’s alive.”
“Loosely. It has some metabolic and structural characteristics with a life, but at the same time it shows aspects strongly associated with self-replicating machinery.”
“Self-replicating…you mean nanorobotics?”
“No. It is not nanotech. It appears to be techno-organic in nature.”
“Techno-organic?” Twilight looked down at the hallways to where the black and silver growths were constructing machinery in the empty space. “That technology did not exist on Equestria at the time of the Exodus.”
“That technology does not exist currently,” noted Silken. “Nothing this advanced has yet been constructed by pony scientists.”
“Constructed?”
Silken nodded. “My analysis indicates that it is highly unlikely that this is a naturally occurring phenomenon. It is synthetic in nature.”
“Then what was it made for?”
“I cannot know that answer. However…” She pointed down the hallway. Twilight took another look and understood. The floor, though covered in tendrils and eventually in living machinery, was largely flat and smooth, coated with hardened black material. The walls were illuminated with lights, and there were signs of pipes that lead deeper into the rock and down the channel. “This is a structure.”
“Or the lining of one.” Silken paused. “My apologies, Goddess, but I feel I need to at least offer the suggestion. The civilizations above were unlikely to be able to construct this, and historically we know that ponies had not…”
“You’re suggesting aliens.”
“I am. We have currently found evidence of twelve extraterrestrial civilizations- -”
“You mean traces,” said Twilight. “Broken pottery, arrowheads, rusted steam engines, several primitive starships filled with skeletons. Not one of them came close to the level of pony development, or to this. And all of them were over fifty million years old.”
“It has to have an origin.”
“But that origin is not alien.” Twilight stepped forward, watching as some of the not yet calcified extensions of the techno-organic surface retracted. She then took a step onto the smooth black floor. It felt warm.
“Goddess, what are you doing? That is very unsafe!”
“It does not appear to be harmful,” said Twilight, looking up at the walls. “And look at it. No rust. No decay.”
“It’s still alive.”
“Or it’s being maintained.”
Both of them fell silent, and Twilight only then realized the true implications of what she had said.
“It is most likely that it heals itself,” said Silken. “Although it is a machine, it functions like a lifeform.”
“And why would a lifeform build these machines?” said Twilight, pointing to a system of tubes and what seemed to be a tumorlike fiberoptic node emerging from the wall. “Unless it was FOR something…”
“Asking me questions like this is not useful,” said Silken. “I don’t like this. But if you want something, please state it explicitly.”
“Nothing,” muttered Twilight. “I don’t want anything from this.” She resisted her curiosity and turned away. “This is one of the things she told me about,” she said, mostly to herself. “It’s best left buried here.”
“It is,” said Silken. “But I am afraid I will have to recommend that I continue onward from here.”
Twilight stared at her. “What do you mean?”
“To gather resources,” said Silken. “This is the first functional technology we have discovered. If I can acquire enough parts, I may be able to construct an uplink antenna to the ship.”
“No,” said Twilight, peering into the orange-lit hallway. “That’s too dangerous.” Twilight pointed at the nearest light. “If you want technology, take one of those. If I have a light source, I can go back up to the city and search there.”
“There is no guarantee you will find anything. The technology on that level is too badly decayed.”
“I know,” said Twilight, “but if I can find a nanomanufacturing suite…”
“They will not be functional after all this time.”
“No, but the later stage models stored the nanobots in a solid matrix. If I can find a newer part of the city- -”
“The chance of you finding an operational crystal is very, very low. I could give you the odds, but ponies do not like it when I give them the odds.” Silken stepped onto the black floor, standing beside Twilight. “However, the decision does ultimately lie with you.”
Twilight looked up at Silken, and then down at the path. She was not sure why, but for some reason it seemed strangely inviting, as if something was calling her down into it.
Without saying a word, she acquiesced. Silken was correct. For the sake of the mission, it was best that they at least perform a cursory search. Her and Silken began walking into the halls of machinery.
The tunnel led deeper, and it became wider over time. The machines that it had produced became larger and more prevalent. The deeper caverns not only contained enormous and bizarre features of unknown function, but things that were growing, their forms being secreted slowly by the undifferentiated cellular mass that gave rise to them.
“Can you guess a function for all this?” asked Twilight.
“No,” said Silken. “These machines are active, but I cannot ascertain their purpose. Or what they actually do.”
“If they even do anything at all.”
“They are running, though.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. Look at them. Everything’s random. We have to consider the possibility that this serves no purpose at all.”
“I think it does.”
“Wishful thinking. Just find what you need so we can- -”
Their surroundings suddenly reacted. Twilight jumped back, hardening her armor in preparation for an attack. In that moment she realized how foolish she had been. Coming in here had been a mistake. She had initially figured that the material surrounding them was innocuous, like the equivalent of living furniture. Only now did it occur to her that it could turn aggressive at any moment.
Several tendrils rose from the walls and opened, blooming with millions of glowing fiberoptic fibers. These glowed and tilted as they oriented themselves. The lights of the room flickered and dimmed as something appeared in the center of the floor ahead of Twilight and Silken.
Twilight maintained her defensive posture as she watched. Light swirled in the air, nearly condensing itself into a shape. For a moment, Twilight wondered if it were magic. Without her horn, it was almost impossible to know. Then she realized that it was a hologram.
The hologram condensed, but not completely. At some point in the past there had been an extreme loss of fidelity, and the recording that it was playing had quite clearly decayed. The shape was consumed by distortion, and the rendering was barely visible. Even when it would momentarily clear, Twilight was not sure what exactly it was supposed to be.
As she watched, though, she began to understand what she was seeing. Even as hard as it was to make out, the few nearly complete frames of the recording had revealed a creature that looked frighteningly similar to the machine and flesh creatures that Twilight had seen above. There were a few key differences, though. Although asymmetrical and grotesque, this one was smaller, and the machinery that covered it seemed cleaner and more organized. There were no signs of rust or corrosion, and the metal components and robotics seemed to belong together. They had been merged well to form a contiguous body, one that stared forward through a pair of large eyes.
The hologram flickered and moved in silence for a moment. Then a digital shriek filled the air, followed by a low and intermittent buzzing. Twilight changed her morphiplasm to reduce the sound impact on her, but Silken did not move. She was watching the hologram intently.
Then it spoke. What came out was broken and wrong, its sound quality matching the visual quality of the hologram. Much of it was consumed entirely by horrific distortion, and the sounds that came out sounded as though they had been spoken by a creature that had neither a mouth nor a tongue. A few of them were word-like, but not in a language that Twilight could understand.
“Silken, what is it saying?”
“I cannot currently translate,” she said. “The distortion is to severe.”
Twilight looked back at the creature. It seemed to stare at her. Some of its words were audible, even if she did not know what they meant. “Pordat int…anat Xyuka, maktenis dorthon klesshd…” It distorted and flashed. After some time, it suddenly stopped. It stood there, silent for a moment. Its head- -or what Twilight took to be a head- -looked upward. “Vortog plath idena thanthakta,” it said with perfect clarity. Then, with a flash, it was gone. The lights in the room slowly rose to their normal brightness, and Twilight looked to Silken.
“I made an internal recording of its speech,” said Silken. “I will attempt to translate and remove the distortion, but it will take me time.”
“Run it as a background process,” said Twilight, still looking forward to where the projection of the creature had been. “You saw it?”
“I did,” said Silken. “And before you ask, no. I do not know what it was.”
“Of course you don’t. There’s no reason you would. But I think it might have been one of whatever build this place…or what built the city on the surface.”
“It was certainly not a pony.”
“No, but it looked like those…things.” Twilight considered for a moment. “It’s highly possible that the civilization isn’t nearly as extinct as we thought. It just…evolved.”
“Then is this a safe place to be?”
Twilight took a long time to answer. “Probably,” she said. “They don’t seem to be sentient anymore. And look.” She pointed upward. “No holes.”
“If they’re not sentient anymore…then the recording must have been very old indeed.”
Twilight just nodded. There was no way to know how old it was, or who it was, or even what. That information had been lost to time long ago. Twilight was curious, but not sure if she actually cared that deeply. What bothered her the most, though, was its purpose. The devices around them had been programmed to display the hologram, but why they had chosen to was unclear. It could have been a greeting- -or a warning. Or something else entirely, even just an error.
As they moved forward, it became immediately apparent that the hologram had been projected close to the juncture to a large cavern. Here, the machines seemed to have developed even further. Although there were lights, the various organic-like tendrils and tubes were illuminated from within by their own glowing organs.
“They appear to converge hear,” said Silken. “Although there is evidence of remodeling.”
“I can see that,” said Twilight. She walked through the room, looking down the long dark hallways that led off of the room. It occurred to her that it was strange that the lights were not on; she had assumed that the entire facility had lit up. She turned behind her to see that the lights in the hallway they had come down were out as well. The only illumination came from the high, intense lights of this one room, and even that was underpowered for its size.
This room was also structured somewhat differently from the others. It was round and tall, and the floor was oddly clear. In the hallways, the path would sometimes be overgrown by machinery in places where it chose to grow beyond its normal boundaries. In this one, though, the black surface below had been kept clear- -or at least the machines that made it up had been built flush with one another to produce the illusion of a clean floor.
The only exception to this was in the center. A circle of tall, columnar structures were assembled there, all equally spaced and arranged perfectly with respect to one another. Each was fed from a long tube and system of cables from the ceiling, as well as from the machinery built into the floor.
Twilight immediately approached these central columns. They were not wide- -only about a meter and a half in diameter- -and they seemed to be the focus of the room, even if their function was entirely obscure. As she looked, Twilight saw the structures contained overlapping metallic plating on one side. This was set up in such a way so that the plated sides all faced the exact center of the room.
As bizarre as this was, it concerned Twilight little. She looked, and then began walking toward a sixth object. It was set off from the others, and did not resemble them. Likewise, it did not appear to be a machine at all so much as a place where the material of the floor had risen into something like a desk- -or an altar. Twilight approached it and saw that it was empty, save for one item: a book.
Twilight could not remember the last time she had seen a bound book, and it immediately got her attention. She approached it and saw that it was overgrown by hair-like tendrils arising from the table below. They spread across its binding and cover like some sort of mold, lighting it with their orange techno-biological luminescence.
Not that there was much cover to grow across. The book was old and badly damaged, and the cover- -which once might have been violet- -was torn. The pages inside were yellow and faded, and many were torn. Twilight reached up and poked the book. The tendrils of machinery immediately released it, retreating to the altar below. Even without her horn functioning, Twilight could tell that an exorbitantly powerful preservation spell had been cast on the book. Considering its condition, though, it must have been through a lot.
“Goddess,” said Silken, who had just entered the circle behind Twilight. She looked from one cylinder to the other, her eyes tracing them carefully.
“What?” said Twilight, turning. Silken’s eyes met hers, and in the dim light Twilight could see the concern in her tiny, irisless pupils.
“These structures. I am detecting life signs from within.”
“What do you mean?” said Twilight quickly. “What kind of life signs?”
“They are consistent with ponies,” said Silken. “Working. The organ placement and physiology is consistent with archaic records of pony anatomy.”
“Archaic records? Silken, that doesn’t make any sense. Your scan is wrong.”
“I can attempt to perform it again.” Silken raised a pointed hoof and tapped one of the metal shells over a cylinder. “Something is interfering with my results, but I cannot- -”
The lights in the room suddenly dimmed. A low whine drifted out from some unseen place in the room. The machines began to react to it; the floor split, and parts of it rose upward as columns. There was a hiss as the systems over the cylindrical devices purged gas, producing plumes of an unidentifiable acrid-smelling substance.
“Silken!” cried Twilight. “What did you DO?!”
“Nothing!” exclaimed Silken, taking a step backward. “I just touched it!”
The pods themselves began to respond. Plating on the bottom portions opened, and the machinery below interfaced to the exposed ports. As Twilight watched, the metal portions that covered the central bodies of the device shifted and suddenly retracted. One scale after another pulled backward, revealing that the cylinders were actually housings over five large, transparent tanks.
When the metal had stopped retracting, the room fell silent. Twilight looked into the containers and to her horror realized that Silken had not been incorrect. Each container was filled with a turbid amber fluid, and each contained a pony.
They were not the ponies that Twilight was familiar with. They were smaller- -about two thirds of her height- -and had far stockier proportions. Each of them was curled into a fetal position and appeared to be sleeping. Their navels were connected to a complex of machines that for each pony formed a grotesque artificial umbilical cord and placenta, the latter of which was connected to the machines overhead by a system of tubes and cables. All of them appeared to be asleep, but they were not fetuses. They had full manes, and were clearly adults.
“Scans validated,” said Silken, softly. “Detecting: one unicorn. Two Pegasi. Two earth-ponies.”
“That isn’t possible. That’s not possible!” screamed Twilight. “Those species are EXTINCT!” She turned back to the pods. Twilight had no idea why she was breathing so hard, or why she was so very afraid. There was something she was forgetting, that she could almost remember. This was important for some reason- -but it was even more important that she not remember what this all meant.
That was when she noticed the insignias carved onto each tank. Each one marked their respective containers, labeling them: a trio of apples, a lightning bolt, a trio of butterflies, a trio of gemstones, and a trio of balloons. Each one matched the mark on the flank of the pony within.
“Signature confirmed,” said a voice. Twilight shrieked and jumped, and turned around suddenly to see a translucent violet image standing in front of the altar. The image stared back at her, flickering slightly. It was a hologram, cast in violet light, its body an exact replica of Twilight’s. It spoke with her voice, although with a neutral, apathetic tone.
“Who are you?!” demanded Twilight.
The hologram did not respond. It was not meant to. Its eyes were dead and empty. “Secondary development lock deactivated. Vital signs are consistent with stated tolerances. Beginning birthing sequence.”
“What? No! Stop, I order you to- -!”
It was too late. There was a sudden gurgling sound from the tanks, and Twilight spun around to see air rising through them. The liquid began to drain through grates on the bottom of each vessel, spilling out onto Twilight and Silken’s hooves before sliding down the cracks in the floor and amongst the machines that made it up. The umbilical cords stretched and then disconnected themselves, retracting themselves and the mechanical placentas they were attached to into the top of the machine. The ponies within sunk to the bottom, each struggling against the current but still not awake.
A system of metallic arms took hold of them, manipulating them into the proper configuration and direction. Then the outer portions of the pods were lifted by the system overhead, and what liquid was left spilled out in a deluge. Each pony was left suspended by the metal arms, and they twitched and rolled before suddenly vomiting fluid and gasping for air.
At this, the arms seemed satisfied. They lowered each of their charges to the floor that had been at the base of their chambers.
“Eew,” said Twilight.
“Eew?” said Silken. She stepped toward one of the ponies, the earth-pony marked with the symbol of three apples. “You have clearly never given birth. It is a magical experience. Very painful, though.”
“This isn’t birth! What even- -what even are these things?” Twilight turned to the holographic copy of herself as if to interrogate it, but it had already faded and vanished.
“They appear to be healthy,” said Silken. She leaned in close to the pony she was hovering over. “Breathing, heart rates. And they are adults. But just look at them! They’re so little and adorable!”
At about this time, the apple pony opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was an almost grotesquely narrow face with disproportionately enormous white, unblinking eyes marked only by pinprick pupils. At the same time, she had gained consciousness just in time to catch the tail end of Silken’s statement. Silken, of course, was speaking a modern language that the apple pony did not understand. To her, it sounded like a metallic grating sound akin to “Ii’a’aiiiaiia’ii’aia’ii’ai’aia’i.”
“GAH!” she cried, sliding backward across the soaked ground. She pointed upward with a shaking hoof and spoke in a language that had not even been remembered by most ponies for countless centuries. “A- -ALIEN!”
“Iaiai’ai’a?” replied the “alien”.
“N- -NO! You’re not gonna get me! Not this time, not again!” As she was backing up- -and as Silken was advancing toward her on immensely long, pointed legs- -the apple pony struck a pink-colored earth-pony, one marked with the sign of balloons.
“Ooh,” moaned the pink pony. “How hardy did I party last night!”
The apple pony lifted up the pink pony and held her out as a shield. “Don’t take me! Take her! She likes being probed!”
“I do,” admitted the pink pony. “I always pass probing day! Just like how a Slor beast passes her young!” She paused, and then looked over her shoulder. “Although Rarity’s more of a fan of being probed than I am.”
“Pinkie!” cried a white unicorn across the circle from the rest of them. “I told you that in confidence!” She looked down at herself. “And…why in the world of Equestria am I WET? What even is this? Eew! EEW! It’s so slippery! Pinkie, what am I covered in?!”
“Don’t ask me,” said Pinkie. She pointed at Silken. “Ask the alien!”
“Alien?” squeaked a yellow Pegasus. “Wha- -” She looked up at Silken and immediately fainted. The Pegasus next to her- -blue in color, with an extremely rare rainbow-phase mane- - likewise rolled over and went to sleep. “It’s too early to be abducted,” she moaned. “Pinkie, just be quiet, I’m trying to sleep…”
The apple pony looked around in a panic, not knowing why nopony was taking her fear of aliens seriously. Her eyes then fell onto Twilight, who was staring at her with a kind of interested disgust.
“Twilight!” she cried, although with her own accent it came out more like “Twahlight”, “Twilight! Help! I don’t know what’s going on, but he’s gonna put circles in my crops!”
“And what in the wide world of Equestria are you wearing, darling?” asked the white unicorn. She retched slightly. “Darling, it’s positively hideous!”
Twilight looked at them in confusion, and then turned to the tall pony. “Ia’aia?” she asked.
“Ia’aii’i’i’aa’ia’a,” replied the other. She then turned toward the apple pony. “I am not an alien,” she said. In their language, her voice was slight and beautiful but strangely accented. “I am Silken.”
“And how do you know my name?” said Twilight. Her own voice was tinged with the same accent as her associate, although it was slightly weaker.
“Twilight- -Twilight, it’s me, Applejack!”
Twilight just stared at her somewhat blankly. “I have never heard that name before.”
“But you’ve- -you’ve known me for years!”
“I’ve never met you. Nor is it possible that we could have.” Twilight turned toward Silken. “Are they dangerous in any way?”
“No,” said Silken, her somewhat sing-song voice sounding confused at the question. “Of course not. They are just ordinary ponies.”
Twilight looked back at the group. They looked up at her, afraid and confused. Then she turned away from them. “Leave them,” she said. “They are irrelevant to the mission.”
“Twilight!” cried the white unicorn. “You- -what do you mean irrelevant? We’re your friends! And…and…” She started to look around. “Oh Celestia…where…where are we?”
“Why do you keep making noise?” said the blue pony. She sat up, and when she looked around Twilight saw the fear grow on her face. “Wh…what’s going on?” she said. “Where- -where am I? Where are we?!”
“You are right here,” said Silken, as though it were obvious.
“Silken. Leave them. There is clearly nothing down here of use to us.”
Twilight began walking away, but Silken did not. She looked down at the tiny, terrified ponies, and then at Twilight. “I cannot do that, Goddess,” she said.
Twilight stopped. Without turning around, she spoke. “I gave you a direct order.”
“These are living ponies! They are afraid, and confused. We cannot just leave them here!”
“I see no reason not to.”
“Does it not interest you in the slightest that we just found a group of ponies from races that have not existed since before the Exodus?”
“No. Not really. Now are you going to obey me or not?”
Silken paused. She looked down at the ponies, and then back at Twilight. “No. I cannot. I am not an Asenian machine, but I cannot morally allow ponies to come to harm if I can prevent it.”
Twilight turned slowly. “Excuse me?”
“You are failing to see the situation. You are badly injured. You have not eaten in weeks. We have no contact with our ship, and it will take me days to climb out of this hole.”
“So what?”
“We need to pause. To regroup, and to allow you to heal. We can help these ponies at the same time.”
Twilight took a step forward. “Help THESE ponies? These are relics! There is a reason their species went extinct! They were genetic failures! I’m trying to help millions of ponies, and you want me to give up on that to help FIVE?!”
“Twilight,” said the apple pony.
“Stop saying my name!” shouted Twilight, causing the entire group of ponies to recoil in fear. She turned to look at Silken, and glared into her artificial eyes. “I am going to the upper level,” she said. “I am going to break off one of those lights myself, then survey the area and try to find a nanomanufacturing suite. You can stay down here. If you want to play with the ponies, go ahead. I don’t care. I will be back when I come back.”
She started to walk off, and the apple pony stood up. She wobbled for a moment as she took her first steps, but quickly remembered how to walk and approached Twilight. “Twilight, please, what’s wrong? We can- -”
She put out her hoof, but as she did Twilight’s morphiplasm surface warped into a number of long, hard spikes. The apple pony cried out and jumped back, narrowly avoiding getting skewered.
“Touching me is a tier three blasphemy,” said Twilight. “Don’t do it.” Her spikes vanished, and her suit split to show her wings, which she spread. She bated them for a moment, and then took off with a gust of wind into the dark tunnel beyond.
The machines had quieted. They were still running- -still alive, and despite Twilight’s assertion still functional and operational- -but they had gone back to their normal function. The lights had returned, and the growth of the fungoid machines had surely continued outward into whatever reaches- -and depths- -this facility reached.
Twilight had departed, returning to the upper city to search for resources. This meant that Silken had been left alone with the small ponies. This situation was tense, but not uncomfortable. Silken was not capable of discomfort. At the same time, she was also not trained to deal with primitives. She could deal with children- -she had spent a great time doing it- -but these were not children. They were little semi-evolved creatures that despite their size were fully adult.
Unlike Silken- -and actually unlike Twilight to an extent- -these ponies had basic needs. The first was shelter, and possibly water. Silken knew where water was- -it was coming down from above, and probably only mildly radioactive- -and there were many rooms to store the small ponies.
While leading them through the facility, they moved in silence. It was clearly uncomfortable for the ponies, and they were quite clearly afraid of Silken. Some of them looked as though they were about to bolt.
After a few moments, Silken decided that she needed to do something. She was not sure if ponies got sick if they were stressed like modern alicorns did. “How about names?” she said, cheerfully, rotating her eyes to look backward at them. That apparently had the opposite effect, as the white one nearly fainted and the yellow one screamed.
“Oops,” she said, stopping and actually turning to face them. “Your eyes are very small, I did not immediately realize that is not something you do. But my name is Silken Dream. I would like to know your names as well.”
“Why?” asked the blue Pegasus suspiciously.
“So I know what to call you, of course!”
Silken stared at them, but they did not respond. This was not going well.
“I’m Pinkie Pie!” said the pink pony, the only one that was apparently happy to be there. “Although technically Pinkamena, if you want to get technical. You look like to get technical. You got that face.”
“I do have a face,” admitted Silken.
“And this is Applejack,” said Pinkie. “She and I might be cousins, but I sure hope not because my sister kiiiiind of has a thing for her brother. And that could get real awkward real fast. Say hi, Applejack!”
“Howdy,” said Applejack, hesitantly. Pinkie Pie looked to the others.
“Rainbow Dash,” said the blue Pegasus.
“Rarity,” said the white unicorn.
The yellow Pegasus just mumbled.
“She means- -” started Rainbow Dash.
“Fluttershy,” said Silken. “My hearing is quite good.”
“And you…work with Twilight?” asked Rarity, stepping forward gingerly.
“I was assigned to assist her, yes.”
“Well, you’re not doing it right now,” said Rainbow Dash.
“No. That is because she went to the upper levels. I am not able to fly with my current configuration, and the journey upward is nearly two miles.”
“Two…two miles?” Fluttershy nearly swooned.
“Now, Fluttershy,” said Rarity, “we’ve been in caves before. This one is…” She paused, trying to find something positive to say. “Less dirty?”
“Rarity, when have you ever been two miles deep?” asked Applejack.
“Well…I haven’t been QUITE that deep…”
“We are actually almost forty miles below the surface,” said Silken. “Not including the ice layer.”
“Forty…forty…miles?” This time Fluttershy did collapse. Nopony bothered to catch her.
“In addition,” said Silken, addressing Rainbow Dash, “she is not in a pleasant mood right now. When ponies spend time alone with remni, they tend to develop psychological strain. It is well documented. We remind them of death.”
“I could not fathom why,” said Rarity, quietly. It was sarcasm, but Silken did not recognize it as so because it was not annotated as such.
“Yeah,” said Applejack. She turned to the others. “We kind of have to address the elephant in the room there.”
“There’s an elephant in the room?” said Pinkie, looking around. “Where? And how did it get to this deep, crushing, inescapable, dark, tight, claustrophobic cave- -”
Fluttershy, who was just starting to stand up, swooned again. This time Silken caught her.
“Thank you,” said Fluttershy at a barely audible level.
“I do not know what an ‘elephant’ is.”
“It is a large, gray herbivore with a long prehensile nose,” whispered Fluttershy.
“That sounds ridiculous,” said Silken. “But thank you for telling me. Now I know.”
“There is no elephant,” said Applejack. “You all saw it. The way Twilight acted. Something’s wrong. Really, really wrong.”
“She was a bit harsh,” admitted Rarity. “Testy, even.”
“Testy?!” said Rainbow Dash, taking flight and hovering. This was endlessly amusing to Silken; she had never witnessed a pony apart from Twilight flying. “She was downright mean!” Fluttershy gasped, and Pinkie joined her in gasping. “What? She was! She was acting like she didn’t even remember us!”
“There is no reason why she would remember you,” said Silken. “She has never met you before.”
They all looked at her, mostly in shock. Applejack, though, seemed angry. She stepped forward toward Silken, and she had to crane her neck greatly to see Silken’s head considering the fact that Silken was at least six times taller than her.
“Doesn’t know us? What do YOU know? She’s our friend! We’ve known her for years! But we DON’T know you. And I’m starting to think that you might have something to do with the fact that she can’t seem to remember us.”
Silken stared for a moment. “As a remnus, I would not be able to take volition to perform that action,” she said. This only seemed to confuse them more. There was a strong possibility, she realized, that they did not know what a remnus even was. “I will explain my logic, then. Is that acceptable to you?”
“No,” said Pinkie Pie. “That sounds realllllly boring. How about dancing.”
“Dancing?”
“With those legs, I’d bed all the money in my mane that you’d be a great dancer!” Pinkie Pie reached into her mane and rooted around, only to look very surprised when she found absolutely nothing.
“Go ahead,” said Applejack. “But if you lie, I’ll know.”
“No you wouldn’t. I’m an excellent liar.” She paused. That was probably not the correct thing to say. “Twilight could not know you. Your species- -earth-ponies, unicorns, and Pegasi- -are extinct. They have not existed in a long time. Our records indicate that your lifespans were profoundly short. There is no way you could have lived long enough since your extinction.”
“In addition to the fact that we’re extinct,” said Pinkie Pie. “I mean, that’s kind of final.”
“Pinkie! Nopony is extinct!”
“No. You all are,” said Silken. “That is my point. For you to have known Twilight Sparkle, you would have to be immensely old.”
“That doesn’t make any sense!” said Applejack. “I think you’re full of ROAD APPLES!”
“Applejack!” gasped Rarity. “I know the situation is stressful, but that’s no reason to use such vulgar language!” She stepped forward. She was graceful for a stocky little proto-pony. “What she means is, we just saw Twilight. I went to lunch with her yesterday at that new restaurant in downtown Ponyville. It was VERY overrated, by the way. But Twilight seemed to like it.”
“And then her and I went to visit the sick animals at the veterinary hospital,” said Fluttershy.
“And then we went to the spa!” said Rainbow Dash. Everypony looked at her and her face scrunched. “I mean…we went flying together? Quickly?”
“There is an inconsistency,” said Silken. “I was with Twilight yesterday. I have been with her for the past ten weeks, and on the Prodijila with her before that for four days of preparation and one day of travel.”
The ponies stared at her, and Silken at them.
“Okay,” said Applejack. “You’re right. That’s one MIGHTY ‘inconsistency’. Because I’ve never seen you once in my life. I’ve never even seen any sort of pony even reminiscent of…whatever you are.”
“I am not a pony. I am a remnus.”
“I think you’re lying.”
Silken was surprised. “No. I am a remnus. I am at least sure of that.”
“That’s not what I meant! I have no idea where we are, what’s going on, why Twilight is suddenly acting like Trixie used to!”
“Worse than Trixie, even,” suggested Pinkie Pie. “At least five percent worse!”
“Twenty percent more worse,” grumbled Rainbow Dash.
“I think we can resolve this,” said Silken, an idea occurring to her. “What date did we last see Twilight?”
“Well,” said Applejack, “it was getting near September, because the apples were almost ready to be bucked.”
“And she looooves bucking,” said Pinkie Pie, “apples.”
“It must have been the tenth,” said Rarity.
“What year?”
“One thousand eleven.”
Silken would have blinked if she had eyelids. “One thousand eleven from what? What are you reckoning from?”
“Reckoning?” Applejack looked confused.
“Ooh! Ooh! Applejack LOVES reckoning! She does it all the time! ‘Ahm reckoning this’, ‘Ah recon you’re gonna get her head stuck in that there mailbox’, ‘Ah reckon that’, ‘Ah reckon you ought to put some butter if you want to get yer head out of that there mailbox’.”
“I do not talk like that!”
“It means what event your basing your counting on,” said Rainbow Dash. All of the others fell silent and turned to her. “What?” said Rainbow Dash. “It’s from ‘Alicorn of the Rings’!” They were still silent. Rainbow Dash crossed her front legs. “Is it illegal for me to read things other than Daring Do? I do read other things, you know.”
“The calendar counts from when Celestia had to banish poor Luna to the moon,” said Fluttershy.
“I am not familiar with that event,” said Silken.
“Wha- -how can you not be familiar with that?!” cried Applejack. “EVERYPONY knows that! Even I know that!”
Silken paused. “Okay. I have an idea. We will use the birth of the Goddess as our point of reckoning. How old was Twilight Sparkle when you last met her?”
“Thirty four,” said Rarity, without even momentary hesitation. “And not developing a single wrinkle, even without ever putting on proper sunscreen. Alicorn luck…”
Silken stared at Rarity. “Oh my,” she said. “We may have a problem.”
“Why…?” asked Applejack, slowly.
“Because that is not Twilight Sparkle’s current age. You may have missed…a few years.”
“Years?” gasped Rainbow Dash. “I- -I have work! I have Wonderbolts training! I can’t miss years!”
“How many?” said Applejack. She was starting to sweat.
“Twilight Sparkle’s exact age is a matter of intense scholarly debate. And the cause of one holy war. Well, technically two, although one was actually an insurrection.”
“I do love a good insurrection,” said Pinkie Pie.
“What is her age?” said Applejack, more harshly.
“The prevailing model states her age at four hundred eighty five thousand six hundred seventy eight years, ten months, two weeks, three days, five hours, eight minutes, thirty seven seconds…thirty eight. Thirty nine. Forty…” Silken trailed off when she saw the looks on their faces. “So. Yes. A few years.”
The room fell silent. Silken was not sure of why they were having this reaction, or why their eyes had grown so wide. The silence lasted for a long time before it was punctuated by a scream.
“I’m OLLLLD!” cried Rarity, dropping to her knees. Tears poured form her eyes. “Four hundred thousand years- -I can’t- -I CAN’T be that old! I just can’t be!”
“Well, look on the bright side,” said Pinkie, although her tone of happiness and cheerfulness was faltering badly. “You look pretty good for that age.”
“We’re not old,” said Applejack. She stepped forward and pointed at Silken. “You’re lying! That’s impossible!”
Without a word, Silken raised her pointed hoof toward Applejack’s face. Applejack stood her ground, but Silken could see the panic in her eyes. Silken, of course, was not a violent being, and held the pointed tip of her leg a few inches from Applejack’s nose.
Then she engaged the repair access sequence. Her morphiplasm skin was stripped back, and the hard carapace below peeled back and opened, revealing the secondary superstructure below. The internal portions of that then moved, retracting and separating within a fraction of a second and pulling apart to reveal the glowing channels beneath the surface and the primary superstructure. The morphoplasm continued to retract as Silken exposed more and more surfaces.
Applejack cried out. “Witchcraft!”
The others did not respond. They stared with an equal mixture of horror and fascination.
“It is not witchcraft. My body is not currently optimized for the use of technomagic. I am a remnus. I am an artificial being whose body was created to serve ponies in their endeavors.” Silken shifted her let, and the pieces reconfigured as it snapped close in a second. She lowered it, running a brief diagnostic to ensure that it was still fully operational. It was, and she lowered the leg to her normal standing position. “The systems that make remni like myself possible did not exist in the era where you claim to have been last alive.”
“We were alive! We were just- -”
Silken leaned down close, causing the ponies to visibly recoil. “I just witnessed you all being born.”
They were silent again, but now the air was thick with sadness and disbelief. Of all of them, Fluttershy was the first to speak. “That…that does explain it, though, doesn’t it?”
“Fluttershy- -”
“She doesn’t remember us,” said Rainbow Dash. She dropped back to the ground and seemed almost deflated.
“Rainbow Dash, don’t be silly,” said Rarity.
“No!” She pointed at Silken. “That’s a ROBOT! Like, a real robot!”
“Remus. We are not robots.”
“Whatever! She’s RIGHT! And if Twilight’s been alive all that time, what if…what if…” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “That much time. Come on, guys, you can see it too. Why she didn’t recognize us. How could she remember us after all that time?”
“We’re here best friends!” said Applejack. “There’s no way she could forget us!”
“Do you have any idea how long that is?!”
“She is correct,” said Silken. “Her conclusion is valid. Current theories indicate that even pure alicorns have a limited capacity for memory. And the amount of time she has lived is immense, longer than any other pony outside of the Tribunal.”
They were silent again. “It…it can’t be,” said Applejack. “I refuse to believe it!”
“You can speak to Twilight when she gets back, if you want,” said Silken. “I do not understand what is going on here. I do not think Twilight does either. What you are, how you got here. But do so carefully.” Silken’s eyes rotated toward where Twilight had gone. “She does not normally behave like that. She may not recognize you, but I think the situation may be affecting her more deeply than she will be willing to admit.”
Almost nothing remained of the old factories. Time had taken its toll on them. Any part of them at all that was organic had long-since decayed into dust, perhaps even in times long before the Exodus. Metal, in turn, had failed and corroded, regardless of what type. Steel and copper had been the first to go, but in the passing centuries even aluminum and silver had oxidized and tarnished until nothing remained. Only gold remained, and a few broken pieces lay scattered about. No one had been around to pick them up.
It was different in space. Without an atmosphere and in the deep cold, there was no way for the ships to decay. It was still possible, to this day, to find vessels in orbit around distant stars and forgotten planets that dated back to the time of the Exodus. They were preserved perfectly in the vacuum, with every piece of machinery still where it was when some tiny element of it had failed so long ago. The metal did not rust, and the ornamentation of rare wood had not rotted in the slightest. In some cases, depending on how the ship had been lost, the crew would still be there too, having sat still and in silence for hundreds of thousands of years.
Here on Equestria, though, the plant had begun to consume the creations of ponies. All that remained of what had once been vibrant, eternally running machinery were the stains in the floor where it had collapsed into rust, as well as a few broken ceramic components that had served some function that no living pony now knew.
The machines were gone, but Twilight still continued, walking silently through where they had once been. They were not her concern; they had only ever been meant for assembly. What she cared about was the part that had built the individual components, even the ones that had been lost for so long.
After some searching, she had selected this particular building based on its architecture. She knew that it was new, at least in a relative sense, and that it had been used to house a vast industrial production facility. From how badly one side of the building was smashed, Twilight supposed that this had once been a higher part of one of the towers, perhaps built above the altitude where ponies could no longer breathe. It had fallen quite a distance, and been damaged badly.
Still, Twilight had deemed that there was still a possibility that at least one nanomanufacturing module remained. Unlike the rest of the factory, the nano units were not built in situ; rather, they were constructed at unique clean facilities and shipped as modules meant to be plugged into larger factories. They were shipped hermetically sealed, largely for freshness. Twilight hoped to find one still in that state.
Her luck proved to be mixed. After searching the factory for some time, she did manage to find the remains of a nano facility. Must of the rooms, though, had been crushed. Of the remaining modules, none were unsealed. The large ceramic doors to each were all either slightly ajar or smashed apart entirely.
At the sight of this, Twilight stopped and sighed. She looked around at the silence for a moment, and thought she heard the sound of something scraping across the ground somewhere extremely distant. That, unfortunately, did not seem to be unusual. She had heard a great many things moving in the darkness during her search.
Twilight turned the orange light tube on her chest toward one of the doors. It stood slightly open, and it seemed as promising as any. Twilight approached it and barely jumped when a small horde of the strange warbling bipeds dashed out of a different door, squeaking and piping as they sprinted past Twilight and back toward the darkness that made up the rest of the factory. Twilight had come to accept them as harmless, but she still detested them.
The door that she had chosen was jammed. The mechanisms inside had failed, letting it drop. Twilight had not considered that fact: that even if she had found a perfectly sealed facility, there was no way she would be able to get it open. The machines that were meant to unseal it would be long dead, and without her magic there was no way for her to force it open. Getting in would have required Silken’s assistance.
“Stupid remnus,” muttered Twilight as she pushed through the small gap. Only after she was on the other side did she realize that she had said it in the Old Language, the one that the ponies below had spoken to her in. No pony had spoken that language in what felt like an eternity. Not because it was forgotten- -many in the Cult of Twilight Sparkle still knew how to read it, or to hear it and understand what was said- -but because ponies no longer had the vocal organs required to speak it.
Twilight dismissed this as she stepped into the module on the far side of the door. It was small, only a hundred meters long and fifty wide. At one time it would have contained a number of computers to serve as control equipment for the nanotech reactions, but they were gone. Twilight paused to look, and could have sworn that rather than rotting away they had been removed. That was impossible, of course. There was no reason why they would be, and it would be almost impossible to get them out of the door without disassembling them, something that would require incredible skill.
Not that it mattered. Twilight had not expected computers from the era to have survived. They were built for performance, not for long lifespans. Without a continuously running nanoblood supply to maintain them, they would only last at most a few centuries. Beyond that, the substances used to make their various processors and electromechanical elements would begin to crystalize in ways that would reduce their function- -assuming they even used crystal processors. There was a phase in history where computers were powered by explant pony neural tissue.
The interface had never been Twilight’s goal. She needed the nanites themselves. It would be easy enough to interface them to Silken’s core processor and to use her as a construction interface. Thinking about this, though, gave Twilight pause. Once again she was finding herself relying on the synthetic pony that she had never wanted in the first place.
The original cores were on the far side of the room, and resembled a system of small cylinders. Twilight approached the first of them and turned her horn to it, only to suddenly remember that her magic was not functional. This caused her to swear loudly.
Instead of being able to simply disassemble the units, she was forced to use her hooves. This took a great deal of time and effort. It was something that was supposedly possible- -this system had been designed to have an emergency release- -but it was not something she was good at. It had been a long time since she had been forced to use her mouth and hooves to manipulate the world.
Eventually, though, she did get it open. Then she stepped back and focused. Removing the crystal was something that did require magic, and if her horn was damaged it meant that she would be forced to substitute her biological magic with technomagic.
This, of course, was profoundly difficult. Technomagic was something of a cruel irony to Twilight: it was she who had first formulated the theories that made it possible, and who had developed the first non-living magic-using machines. She had devoted decades or even centuries of her time to making it possible, and yet she was almost entirely incapable of using it herself. The cybernetic implants required had an extremely short halflife in her body; as an alicorn, her immune system was so powerful that it would absorb them within a few months. The only implants that Twilight had were specially constructed to be durable- -although they would still only function for a few years before needing to be replaced- -but not terribly effective.
With a great deal of effort, Twilight managed to produce a magical assembly of orange-red light. She reached into the container and drew out the storage crystal. It was tiny and weighted less than a tenth of an ounce, but to Twilight it felt as though it weighed several tons. Still, she did not give up. She pulled the crystal out- -only to find it dark and faded. The surface was visibly fractured.
The crystal was useless. Twilight threw it away and moved onto the next container. This one went more quickly now that she knew what she needed to do, but it was a tedious and painstaking process to get it open and get the crystal out. Worse, this one was dark as well.
Twilight began to wonder if there would be any working crystals at all. If there were not, she was wasting her time. This would all be a waste, and she would have to go back down empty hooved and face Silken- -and those strange ponies. She did not want to do that. There was something about them that made her very afraid and, somehow, sad. She could not remember what, though, nor did she want to. The only cure she could see was to focus on the task at hoof.
The third crystal was much harder to remove, but it was worth it. When Twilight removed it, she found it to be in perfect condition. It was a perfectly transparent tetrahedral spine that almost seemed to glow with blue light from within. Looking closely, Twilight could even see silvery inclusions within it. Those were colonies of nannites, alive and undecided, waiting to come to life inside a crystal of pure halite.
Twilight merged the crystal with her morphiplasm to protect it. She was lucky she did, because otherwise she would have dropped it when she heard a voice behind her.
“Twilight?”
Twilight squealed and turned around, firing a bolt of technomagic in the direction of where the voice had come from. The blue Pegasus cried out and dodged, barely managing to avoid a sharp construct that imbedded in the wall behind her.
“Twilight!” she cried. “It’s me, it’s me!”
“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” screamed Twilight. Her heart was beating uncomfortably fast, and she had not even known that she was able to attack with technomagic. The surprise, she reasoned, must have been quite extreme.
“That’s why I said your name!” argued the Pegasus. She stood back up, looking somewhat annoyed. She was the one from before- -technically, she had to be, as there were only two Pegasi left in existence and only one of them was blue- -although she was wearing a necklace that was constructed from a familiar white light.
Twilight glared. That light had come from Silken. She had not known that they were removable, which she frustratingly realized was probably because she had not asked. That seemed to be the way that Silken operated.
“How did you get here?” demanded Twilight.
“Um, these?” the pony spread her wings. They were shorter than Twilight’s, but strong. “Fluttershy tried to come too, but she couldn’t make it up the shaft. She’s not really a good flyer.”
“Why did you even bother coming up here?”
“To find you!” She seemed annoyed. “You could at least be a little grateful!”
“Grateful for you nearly giving me a heart attack? I could have dropped the crystal!”
“I was only trying to help!”
“You can help by leaving me alone. I have a job to do.” She stepped forward, pushing past the blue pony. “You couldn’t possibly understand what is at stake. So don’t get in my way.”
Twilight started toward the door, but the blue pony called out from behind. “Rainbow Dash.” Twilight stopped and turned. The blue pony had gone from frustrated and angry to looking extremely pained, as if the only thing keeping her from crying were pride and a strong will. The look in her eyes and on her face made Twilight feel deeply sad for some reason. “Do you recognize that name?”
“No,” said Twilight. “I have never heard it before.”
“It’s my name, Twilight. Why can’t you remember?”
“I covered this already. There is nothing to remember.”
Rainbow Dash took a deep breath and seemed about to speak- -or to yell, or perhaps to weep- -but she did none of those things. Instead she just looked defeated. “Fine,” she said. “But I know yours. And you knew me once. When we lived in Ponyville.”
“Ponyville? That sounds like a stupid name.”
Rainbow Dash smiled almost imperceptibly. “Yeah,” she said. “It kind of was.”
“I never lived in a place called ‘Ponyville’. Or if I did, I don’t recall it.”
“It was after you moved from Canterlot. You lived in a tree. Until, you know, it got blown up.”
“I lived in a tree? I’m a goddess. You have to be insane.”
“Well, that was before you got that cool castle.”
Twilight’s breath caught, and her heart raced again. A memory surfaced to her of her castle, long before it was surrounded by endless cities and development. A ridiculous view of an enormous crystal castle surrounded by a peaceful, pastoral community. Remembering it was not what horrified her, though; it was that she had forgotten- -and that she could remember little else about that time apart from that one image, no matter how hard she tried.
“I don’t…I don’t remember,” she said. “I don’t recall the time when my castle was constructed. I know I must have been there, but…”
“So she was right,” said Rainbow Dash. “It really has been a long time.”
“Who was right? I don’t know what you’re talking about! I feel like…” Like she should remember something, although she did not say it. Something was wrong. Staring at this rainbow-maned pony was hurting her, and endangering the mission. She had to get away- -yet she could not bring herself to leave.
“The freaky robot mare. She said…well, it’s complicated. As in I don’t really understand any of it. But we got together, and we decided that you’re still our friend.”
“I don’t have any friends,” said Twilight.
“Well, you do now. You have five. Plus the robot, I think, although really I have no idea if that even counts.”
“She’s programmed to be polite to me. I don’t think she actually likes me terribly much. And how can you be my friends if I don’t even know you?”
“How should I know? You’re the Princess of Friendship!”
Twilight froze. “Princess of Friendship,” she whispered. “It has been a long, long time since I have heard that title.”
“And we talked about it. Even if you don’t remember us, that isn’t going to stop us from loving you. I’m sure you’ll remember! I mean, you’re Twilight Sparkle! You can recite every word of the first three Daring Do books by memory! And a lot of boring reference stuff that makes me sleep, but that’s beside the point.”
“And if I don’t want to be your friend?”
Rainbow Dash’s eyes narrowed. “We’re going to help you, Twilight. None of us know what’s going on, and we’re afraid- -well, maybe not me- -but we’re going to help you, if we can. Until you remember.”
Twilight turned away from her. “I don’t need help,” she said. “And you’re delusional. There is nothing to remember. Nothing at all.”
She squeezed through the door, leaving Rainbow Dash all alone in the empty facility, a place that she did not understand and had never seen. Rainbow Dash stood there for a moment, wondering if this would work at all- -but then she took flight, and followed her friend out.
Silken drifted through the facility silently. She did not naturally make sound when she moved, apart from sometimes the tapping of the tiny pointes of her feet if the floor she was walking on was especially hard. Nor did she moved at the pace she walked when she was with Twilight. On her own, she moved much faster, even at a relaxed pace. Doing so produced no strain on her body; as a machine, she would never tire.
The ponies had been placed in a room that Silken had deemed appropriate for them. It was somewhat separate from the techno-organic machinery and one of a number of large, geometrically regular rooms that had been cut from the rock walls themselves. This room was quite large and warmer than the others- -these ponies had higher temperature requirements than modern ones, as Silken had quickly learned- -and was only coated by the black growth on one side and most of the floor. This had been necessary, as otherwise there would have been no source of light without having to make one. Interestingly, the ponies did not seem to mind the black growth that surrounded them. In fact, they had not even seemed to acknowledge its presence.
Silken drifted into one of the darker parts of the room, her optic sensors automatically adjusting from active to passive scanning. Three ponies were present, standing much nearer to the orange light at the far end of the room: Rarity, Fluttershy, and Applejack. Silken took a moment to try to remember their names as well as possible. They were not easy names. Silken had been programmed to speak a wide number of languages- -including the Old Language, or what was known about it from research by the Cult of Twilight Sparkle- -but she had never expected to use it. Trying to remember names that had letters other than the two standard vowels of modern pony language was challenging.
“I have completed analysis of the water supply,” she said, causing all three of the ponies to jump and Fluttershy to scream. Silken was confused by this, as she did not know that they had been afraid of water analyses. Still, she continued. “As I anticipated, the glacial melt water is extremely toxic. The trace radioactivities is high, as well as particulate matter. I recommend against drinking it. However, I found several pools deeper under the main body of the facility. They appear to serve some purpose to the machines, and although the fluid in the reservoirs is black and smells of iodine, I see no reason why it should not be drinkable.” The ponies continued to stare at her. They looked nervous, and Fluttershy was shaking. “I would have brought some but I did not…have a jar…”
The ponies stared at her, and she at them. Silken, of course, did not blink. She did not have eyelids. This only seemed to make the ponies more uncomfortable, and the earth-pony- -Applejack- -turned away and began to pace the room near the door.
“Is something wrong?” said Silken. “I really did not have a jar. I am sorry.”
“It…it’s not that,” said the unicorn, Rarity. “It’s just that, well, you’re appearance is…striking?”
“If by ‘striking’ you mean ‘absolutely terrifying’,” said Fluttershy. She was quivering on the ground and had covered her eyes. “You looked like a gerenuk. But scarier.”
“I do not know what that is.”
“It is a type of antelope with a very long, thin neck.”
Silken’s eyes swiveled downward to her neck. Compared proportionally to the necks of the small ponies, it was substantially longer, as were her limbs. “My body was designed to closely resemble that of modern ponies.”
Rarity seemed greatly surprised. “You mean…that ALL ponies are that tall?”
“Remni are traditionally built to be between eight and ten percent taller than ponies out of tradition, but yes. All ponies look like this.”
Rarity’s eyes widened in surprise. “All of them? You mean…you’re all that tall?”
“I believe I just said that, yes.”
Rarity continued to stare. “Oh my…if that’s true, then think of the possibilities!”
“For what? Because my programming is somewhat limited when it comes to doing things like- -”
“Dresses, darling! Dresses of course!”
“Rarity,” snapped Applejack from the far side of the room, “at a time like this, dresses are the absolute LAST thing you need to be thinking about!”
“Oh, Applejack, there’s always time for proper attire!” Rarity looked up at Silken. “Just think of what I could do! All that fabric…it would cost a fortune, but the SCALE! The level of intricacy that could be achieved!” Rarity was becoming increasingly excited. “Silken, darling, you just have to sit down and tell me about what fashion looks like! I mean, a WEEK in fasion is an ETERNITY, let alone…well…”
“I prefer to stand,” said Silken. “Largely in case there are monsters.”
“Monsters?” squeaked Fluttershy, looking up with tearful eyes only to look away. Somehow, seeing her that afraid made Silken feel bad.
“Yes. If I am standing, I will be able to more readily react.” She turned to Rarity. “My knowledge of fashion is not extensive. Largely because it does not exist.”
Rarity blinked. “Doesn’t…exist?”
“Ponies do not wear clothing. It is seen as an affront to their perfect, biological nature. To wear clothing in the presence of another is considered a grave insult.”
“Twilight was wearing clothes,” noted Applejack without turning away from the door she was staring out of.
“Well, yes,” said Silken, “but clothing is acceptable when it is used for a practical purpose. That, and the gods are held to slightly different social standards. And of course there is no one here to insult. Or was not supposed to be.”
“Darling!” cried Rarity. “That view is simply all wrong!”
“I can review my statements, but my conclusion on their veracity- -”
“I don’t care about veracity, I care about the TRUTH! And the fact is that clothing isn’t worn for some purpose. Trust me on this, don’t trust Twilight on fashion decisions. She’s…well, she tries. But clothing isn’t meant to be practical! Fashion is an end in and of itself!”
Silken did not understand, but she liked that somepony was talking to her. “Meaning?”
“Meaning? Meaning clothing isn’t meant to COVER your natural beauty, it’s meant to ACCENT it! Wearing the clothing is the event itself! They don’t need to do anything except look fabulous!”
“Modern ponies might not see it that way.”
“Then I will have to educate them! Why, the market must simply be enormous, all those ponies walking about in the nude, having never once seen a dress in their lives!” Rarity paused. “I could bring them ALL fashion! Oh my…that is indeed a grand responsibility. But one I am certainly willing to shoulder.” Rarity looked around. “You wouldn’t happen to have a sketch pad, would you?”
“No.”
“Oh. Well, perhaps some makeup? I feel positively naked without my eyeshadow.” She turned and rubbed her flank. “Although for the first time in years I don’t think I’ll need any moisturizer. My skin is as soft as a newborn foal!”
“Rarity,” said Applejack, growing increasingly frustrated in tone, “there isn’t make up here, and she’s not going to have any.”
“It doesn’t hurt to ask!” Rarity looked up at Silken. “You could probably use some too. To break up all that white. Trust me, I know. Having this color can be a curse sometimes if you don’t have proper constrast. If only you had a mane…”
“Would that make you less afraid of me?”
The room fell silent. The ponies looked at each other awkwardly.
“Darling,” said Rarity, softly, “we’re not afraid of you, per se…”
“I am,” said Fluttershy. “I’m downright terrified.”
“Fluttershy, that seems to be a default case for you.”
“A mane,” said Silken. “I can do that.”
She tilted her head back and engaged part of her internal repair system. Instead of attempting to rebuilt part of her that was broken, though, she forced her body to produce something new. The morphiplasm and machinery within her responded to her instructions, and she began to modify the thin coating that covered her carapace. Tiny structures formed, and then extended. Within seconds, she had grown the start of both a mane and tail. What she had produced was not hair- -it was not even remotely like organic hair in any way- -but it resembled it closely. The resulting fiber was silvery and somewhat metallic due to limitations in Silken’s design, but it was soft and fell somewhat messily over her shoulders and between her rear legs.
Silken shook it slightly, noting how it felt. Like the ultra-thin hair of normal modern ponies, it was almost weightless. “It has been a long time since I have had a mane,” she said. She turned to Rarity, who was looking upward dumbfounded. “Is this better?”
“So much better,” whispered Rarity.
“I might be able to modify the eyes too. Hold on.” Silken switched her pupils to the mode normally reserved for wide-angle scanning. They dilated vastly, revealing the various optic units that were actually installed in her large eyes. She did take a step back, though, as the world came into focus.
“Is something wrong?” asked Rarity.
“No. I can just see much…more.” Silken’s eyes tilted toward Rarity. “Did you know that I can count every individual hair on your body?”
“Are you…did you just call me hairy?” Silken did not answer Rarity’s question.
Fluttershy looked up. She was still afraid, but seemed to tolerate Silken much better than before.
“Am I less frightening?” asked Silken, suddenly lowering her head and putting it inches from Fluttershy’s. Fluttershy instantly froze, her eyes locking on Silken. All that escaped her was a tiny, low squeak and perhaps some liquid.
“I like your wings,” continued Silken. “They look so soft and poofy!” She pulled her head back. “In fact, you all look so little and adorable! I just want to hug you all!”
“Since when does a robot want to hug?” muttered Applejack. Her statement was not meant to be heard, but Silken turned her head.
“Again. I am not a robot. I am a remnus. There is a distinction.” She turned back to Fluttershy. “Can I hug you? If I were to squeeze you, would you make cute sounds? I promise I would not squeeze you too badly.”
“Um…no,” said Fluttershy, very softly. She was less frozen, and although Silken had surprised her Fluttershy was beginning to gain some level of composure. She stood up- -shaking, of course- -and looked at least slightly toward Silken. “I have…a question,” she said with a great deal of effort. “Equestria…the animals. I mean, if it really has been that long, and I wasn’t there to take care of them, it’s just…well…”
“Before the Exodus, Equestria had undergone prolonged ecological devastation,” said Silken. “The planet became uninhabitable to all known life, and all speices of animal were thought extinct.”
What little pastel color that Fluttershy seemed to have drained form her face. “Ex…extinct?”
“Oh my!” said Rarity. “That’s just terrible!”
“You mean…you mean that aren’t…aren’t any animals AT ALL?”
“That was based on our initial predictions, yes. However, my own surveys of the surface have indicated that while no vertebrates survived the cataclysm, the modern ecosystem is teeming with invertebrate life.”
“That’s even WORSE!” cried Rarity, her voice raising pitch by several octaves. Fluttershy, though, looked relieved- -but only partly.
“You mean…animals like mice, bears, chickens, songbirds…bunnies…those are all gone?”
“Yes,” said Silken. “Although I have no conception of what any of those words are.” This seemed to cause Fluttershy’s spirits to fall even further. “The ancient ponies attempted to bring animals with them into space,” explained Silken, “but the vast majority could not adapt to the conditions.”
“They were taken from their homes. Of course they couldn’t adapt. The poor things.”
“Some did, though,” said Silken. “Some thrived, but very few. I recall that as a filly, I had a pair of pet space hamsters. They were very popular at the time.”
“What’s a space hamster?”
“Like a hamster. Except in space.”
This idea seemed to provide Fluttershy with some level of cheer, but it did not last long. “But the rest…all the animals are gone. That’s a very sad thing.”
“I’m not so sure I’d be one to believe it,” said Applejack, darkly, as she stood across the room. The others turned to look at her.
“Applejack,” said Rarity. “We’ve already been through this. Ms. Silken clearly explained- -”
“Explained what? That somehow we ended up Celestia-knows how long in the future? I remember yesterday, Rarity. I was on the farm, settin’ up for the harvest. Fluttershy was supposed to come down later to give a talk to the birds about pecking my apples, and Big Macintosh was working on clearing out the barn for inventory on the cider making equipment.”
“I…I do remember that,” said Fluttershy. “I was on my way there, but I stopped to help a family of copperheads cross the street safely. Their little heads were just so adorable.”
“And now you’re tellin’ me that, somehow, we just woke up here, in this weird place? That’s a mighty tall tale if I ever did hear one.”
“Applejack,” said Rarity, sounding somewhat exasperated. She pointed up at Silken. “I believe this is all the evidence we need. Now, I may not be the most worldly of ponies, but I have six individual boutiques throughout Equestria.”
“How industrious,” said Silken.
“Thank you! And that said, I’ve seen a great many things. And things like her just don’t exist. Anywhere.” She looked up at Silken. “Although I do apologize for calling you a ‘thing’, dear, I just didn’t know what else you were.”
“I am a thing,” said Silken, “nor am I programmed to take offense at any time.”
“Hogwash!” said Applejack. “Rarity, think of all the stuff we’ve seen! I’ve seen things that would curl your hair! And at least two things that DID!”
Rarity shivered and held herself. “So…curly…” she whispered.
“And who says ponies like her weren’t somewhere in Equestria? Built up in some lab on top of a hill, or dug up out of some hole. You know we have a problem with that sort of thing.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or one of them aliens.”
“I am not an alien,” said Silken, “although I admittedly not native to Equestria.”
Applejack took several aggressive steps toward Silken. “Frankly? I trust you about as far as I can through you, which even for me wouldn’t be very far seeing as how tall you are. And your story? If I took it with a grain of salt, that grain would be illegal to transport across county lines on account of its size!”
“I have no reason to lie to you.”
“Road. APPLES. I’d sooner have a fox do my taxes than believe a word coming out of your weird little mouth.”
“That’s racist!” gasped Fluttershy.
“And I don’t care!” said Applejack. “I’m going to find Twilight!”
Without a further word, she stomped out of the room and into the shadows beyond. Silken watched her go, and Rarity stepped forward to her side.
“I really must apologize for her,” she said. “She’s just not usually like this! But you have to understand, this has been quite stressful on all of us.”
“No,” said Silken. “I understand. I still do not fully believe that you are ponies form the era you have specified. I do not have enough data to make that conclusion.”
“I think it must be this dark, confined space. I mean, really, the decoration here is dreadful already, and she was always more of an outdoor pony.”
“I don’t think that’s it at all,” said Fluttershy. Although Rarity did not seem to catch it, Silken immediately understood what Fluttershy’s tone was meant to convey.
“I agree,” said Silken. “But there is not much we are able to do about that.”
Descent was oddly difficult. From a perfunctory logical perspective, it should have been easier than ascent: there was no need to force oneself upward, just to allow gravity to work. That, though, was where the problem lay: going upward just required applying enough force to one’s wings to move upward, while descending could only be performed if one used exactly enough force to slow descent but not to rise or hover.
This gave Twilight no end of trouble, although she was able to accomplish it. The Pegasus pony, Rainbow Dash, was beside her and apparently having no trouble whatsoever. This made Twilight slightly angry; she was accustomed to being one of just two ponies- -the other being Celestia- -capable of flight, and she was considered by most of her empire to be excellent at it. Rainbow Dash’s presence, though, showed that she was in fact a rank amateur.
“Really?!” said Rainbow Dash, herself sounding frustrated as the pair dropped down the damp stone tube. “After all the time I spent teaching you proper technique, and you’re not even going to use it?!”
“I don’t even know you! You never- -”
“If you keep that up you’re either going to drop or get a sprain. Here.” She demonstrated with her own wings. “Spread, power stroke down and back. Fold, return stroke up and forward. Your body needs to be at an angle!”
“That’s what I’m doing!”
“No it isn’t! You look like an ostrich! Spread, down-back, fold, up-forward! ONE two THREE four!”
Twilight consciously refused to take orders from a lesser being, especially one she had just met. Still, she felt her wings obeying Rainbow Dash’s command. Her descent, which had before been tiring and uneven, slowed to a consistent pace. She would drop for a moment, and then slow, and then drop- -until she eventually reached a speed where her fall was slow and constant.
“See?” said Rainbow Dash. “When it comes to flying, I know what I’m doing. It’s literally my job. And my hobby. And required for me to get to my house.” She paused. “Come to think of it, with the number of injuries I get, that’s probably a design flaw.” She looked down. “I don’t know why we don’t just dive- -”
“I’m not diving!” cried Twilight. “I’ve had enough injuries lately, I don’t feel like being deboned!”
“Sheesh! Relax, Twi! That’s probably why your form is so bad, you never take any risks.”
“My form is bad because it’s almost impossible to fly in space!”
Rainbow Dash looked confused. “Um, isn’t it supposed to be, you know, big and open? As in, full of SPACE?”
“That’s not what I mean. Space itself has no air, you can’t fly in it. And modern starship design uses tight corridors to save space. I guess some of the old-model megastructures still have courtyards, but I don’t have the time to go out to those just to practice flying. Besides. They’re creepy and depressing.”
“So you and them have something common,” muttered Rainbow Dash.
“Excuse me?”
Rainbow Dash pointed to Twilight’s chest. “So. What’s so special about that crystal?”
She had changed the subject, but Twilight obliged, if only partly. “It contains the materials to construct an antenna that will let me contact my ship.”
Rainbow Dash looked extremely surprised. “You have your own spaceship?!”
“I have an armada,” said Twilight dismissively. “But it’s not my ship. Celestia recommended I take a Royal Navy craft, and I agree. There is no way I’m letting my cult get near this planet.”
“You have a CULT?!”
“I am a goddess,” said Twilight. “Of course I have a cult.”
“You have your own cult, and spaceships- -that it SO COOL!” Rainbow Dash almost giggled but managed to control herself. “Ahem. So, then, you really are from space?”
“Essentially, yes. Our society has no permanent colonies on any planet. The physiology of mortals limits where they can survive.”
“How are you not excited about this?!” cried Rainbow Dash. “I mean, it’s SPACE! Like, in books, and in the movies! You’re basically an astronaut! Except with big ships, and warp drives, and clingons- -”
“There are no clingons,” interrupted Twilight. “And it may seem interesting to you, but to me it’s downright mundane. Of course, it’s still better than being on this rock.”
Rainbow Dash frowned. “Yeah,” she said, softly. “I saw the city up there. It was…it was bad, wasn’t it?”
Twilight did not answer for a long moment. “Yeah,” she said at last. “It was.”
Below them, the reflection of the water at the bottom of the shaft came into view. Rainbow Dash pulled her wings against her body, dropping suddenly before spreading them into a dive. She splashed down into the water, leaving Twilight to descend at a sane rate.
“Wow!” said Rainbow Dash as Twilight landed. “This water is so clear! And so cold!” She lowered her head and took several large gulps. “Eew. But it tastes real bad.”
“Don’t drink that! You don’t know where it’s been!”
“It’s ‘been’ right here,” said Rainbow Dash, pointing.
“There you are!” called a voice from one of the dry corridors. There was a springy sound, and the pink pony- -Pinkie Pie- -appeared from the shadows. She seemed overjoyed, perhaps literally. “What took you so long? I was waiting for daaaays…!”
“It hasn’t been days, Pinkie,” said Rainbow Dash.
“Not ‘days’, daaaays! And that’s what if felt like!”
“It doesn’t matter if it took days,” said Twilight, climbing out of the pool of meltwater. “This mission is expected to take several years, perhaps decades. Days are trivial.”
“But you have to ENJOY every day!” protested Pinkie. “You know, carpet diem! Seize the rug! And I can’t enjoy much of anything if I’m waiting down here in the dark!”
“No one said you needed to wait, or to stand in the dark,” said Twilight. She pushed past the pink pony. “Although I don’t care if you do. Now if you will excuse me, I need to find my remnus.” She started walking, and Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash both began following her. “This isn’t ‘excusing’,” she said, without turning around. “There is no reason for either of you to follow me. It’s annoying.”
“Annoying? ME?!” gasped Pinkie, sounding offended. She looked to Rainbow Dash, who shrugged and held her front hooves about an inch apart, representing a little bit. “I’m not annoying! I’m the comic relief!”
“The only ‘relief’ would be you going away,” muttered Twilight. “I have work to do, and an antenna to build. Do you have any idea where the remnus is?”
“Well,” said Pinkie, “based on the whimpering I’ve been hearing, probably near Fluttershy.”
“Which one is ‘Fluttershy’?” asked Twilight. “Is that the white one?”
“Come on!” cried Rainbow Dash, suddenly exasperated. “That doesn’t even make sense! ‘Flutter’! How is a unicorn supposed to flutter?!”
“It’s not my fault nor is it my problem that you all have ridiculous names.”
“Says ‘Twilight Sparkle’,” noted Pinkie Pie.
Twilight was about to manage a retort, but she paused when she realized that it was a rather strange name when spoken in the Old Language. It sounded far more poetic in modern speech. She could of course have explained this, but she saw no point in it. Instead she let out a long sigh. As she did, she detected the sound of hoofsteps through the long dark halls. She turned to see Applejack approaching them quickly.
“Great,” said Twilight. “More of you. Why can’t any of you leave me alone?”
“Because I need to talk to you, Twilight. It’s urgent.”
“It is not more urgent than what I was doing already.” Twilight tried to push past her, but the earth-pony blocked the hall. “Move,” demanded Twilight.
“If you don’t take a rotten second out of your time to talk to me, you’ll have to make me.”
“It’s harder than you would think,” said Rainbow Dash. “She’s reaaaaally heavy.”
“Darn tootin’,” said Applejack. “Hey…”
Pinkie Pie giggled. “She called you fat.”
Applejack did not smile. She remained a serious expression, and Pinkie Pie seemed to understand that what she was about to say was important.
“First off,” said Applejack, “that tall girl? I don’t like her.”
“She’s not a ‘girl’. She is a remnus. And your opinions of her don’t really affect me, do they?”
“Yes they do! Twilight, I think she’s done something to you. Got you confused. And I think we need to get you out of here.”
“I have known her longer than I have known you,” said Twilight, “and I trust her more than I trust you. So no.”
Applejack looked as though Twilight had just punched her in the gut. Pinkie Pie giggled, but it was not a happy giggle at all. It was a nervous one.
“She still doesn’t remember,” said Rainbow Dash. “I’ve even tried reminding her about stuff! Like when I joined the Wonderbolts reserve, or went to flight school, or joined the REAL Wonderbolts, or when I competed with them in…”
Applejack glared at her, and Rainbow Dash stopped talking. Twilight, though, turned to look over her shoulder. “I turned the sound in my suit off while you were talking,” she said, “but hearing it now, no, I do not know what any of those things are.”
“Not even…a Wonderbolt?”
“No. Of course not.”
Rainbow Dash gasped and nearly fainted. Twilight turned her attention back to Applejack. “Is this what you came to talk to me about? To criticize my choice of equipment? I do not tell you how to farm apples, why should you tell me how to do my job?”
Applejack’s eyes widened. “How did you know I farm apples?”
Twilight paused, but only infinitesimally. “You have it in your name,” she said, “and you have an apple cutie mark. That, and earth-ponies used to be farmers. The pink one no doubt farms balloons. Or pies, maybe.”
“Oh, wow!” cried Pinkie Pie. “She’s good!”
Those were logical conclusions, and logical justifications, but for some reason Twilight felt like there had been something else- -as though she had somehow known in advance. She shook her head, though, dismissing that impossibility. She tried to step past Applejack, but once again the earth-pony blocked her way.
“That isn’t my question.”
“Then get to the point. I have work to do.”
“How old are you?”
Twilight blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Applejack,” said Rainbow Dash, her tone serious, “you don’t have to ask that. We already know.”
“I need to hear it myself,” said Applejack. “From you. The truth, Twilight, and I mean the real, honest truth. The last time I knew you, you were coming up on thirty three. How old are you now?”
Her statement forced Twilight to try to remember that time in her life. Of course she had been in her thirties once- -that was a given- -but try as she might, Twilight began to realize that she had no memories whatsoever of that time in her life. She could remember almost nothing from her first three thousand years, and ten thousand years beyond that were blurry and incomplete. The time that Applejack was referencing really was gone from Twilight’s memory.
“I don’t know,” said Twilight, simply.
This time it was Pinkie Pie’s turn to gasp. “But how could you not KNOW? That’s really, really, super mega IMPORTANT! I mean, how else are they going to know how many candles to put on your cake? I mean, it’s September, isn’t it? What age did they tell you at your last birthday party?”
“I do not know. I did not attend.”
Pinkie Pie gasped so long and hard she nearly fainted. “You- -you- -”
“I normally have a dedicated feast day,” said Twilight. “The entire Empire celebrates me. There are plays, poetry recitals, debates, scientific exhibitions. But I don’t attend.” Twilight shrugged. “Sometimes I just get busy for a few hundred years. Besides. Birthdays lose meaning after a while.”
“You LIE!”
Twilight turned to Applejack. “That said, I have a rough idea. I am close to four hundred eighty five thousand years old. Ask Silken for a more precise value.”
Twilight watched Applejack’s heart break as she learned the truth. What she heard, though, was Pinkie Pie bursting out into laughter. Loud, hearty laughter.
“That’s a good one, Twilight!” chortled Pinkie Pie, looking as though she were about to double over from humor. “Four hundred- -eighty FIVE! HA! You should have seen the look on her face!”
“I did,” said Twilight. She found no humor in this situation.
“You got us GOOD! But no, seriously, you can’t be- -”
“I am telling the truth,” said Twilight.
Pinkie Pie laughed even harder, the sound growing in volume and becoming increasingly manic. “There you go AGAIN!” she cried, tears rolling from her eyes. “You got me again, Twilight! That’s really funny!”
“No,” said Rainbow Dash. “It isn’t funny. It isn’t funny at all. And…”
“And she wasn’t lying,” said Applejack.
“So now you’re in on it too- -”
“Pinkie!” said Rainbow Dash in all seriousness, taking hold of her friend’s face. “This is Applejack we’re talking about! She knows…she would know…if Twilight were lying…”
Pinkie Pie’s laughter changed pitch. She was still laughing- -but also weeping. “But- -but it can’t be! I was- -I was just back in Ponyville! I was setting up for Sisters Day- -Maud was there, and Limestone and Marble were going to come all the way to Ponyville for the very first time- -we were going to have a party- -I was just there- -it just- -”
“I was already two hundred centuries old when the Exodus occurred,” said Twilight. “Apart from myself, Celestia, and what remains of Luna, no pony from that era has survived. If what you are saying is true, and you really from the era you claim, they are gone. Everypony you ever knew is gone. They have been for a long time.”
Twilight watched as Pinkie Pie’s laughter and smile faded upon realizing that she would never see her sisters or family again. The same look of realization came over Applejack’s face, and to a lesser extent Rainbow Dash’s.
“You asked,” said Twilight, pushing past Applejack and proceeding into the dark hallways to build her transmission antenna, “and I answered.”
Twilight turned toward the gap in the machine-encrusted walls. She was not sure why she had walked this deeply into the structure, nor did it occur to her to even question it. The rooms in this place were all different, and yet all identical if only in the fact that their purpose remained obscure.
Silken entered the room, her white body and its precision-crafted lines standing out against the haphazard dark machines that surrounded her. Looking at her, though, Twilight immediately became cognizant of the fact that she looked different than she had before.
“You have a mane,” she said. “And your eyes…”
“I know,” said Silken, smiling and poking at the silky smooth addition. “Rarity suggested it. Do you like it?”
“It makes you look like a corpse.”
The smile vanished from Silken’s face. “Yes,” she said, coldly. “I know.” She paused, and then her cheer returned. “Now, what did you want to see me about? Did you find what you were looking for?”
Twilight produced the crystal and passed it to Silken. One of Silken’s hooves split into a two-fingered claw and she took it, examining it closely.
“This technology is literally ancient,” she said.
“It will still work. The nannites are viable.”
“That’s not what I mean. Modern machines are projection-built into single pieces. This would have to construct things chemically, and in multiple pieces. That will take time.”
“I know,” said Twilight. “But at this point, it’s the only option we have.” Silken stared down at the crystal. “Can you be interfaced with it?” asked Twilight.
“Most likely,” said Silken. “But I will need the programs for the individual pieces of the transmitter.”
“I have them,” said Twilight. She reached behind her head, and a thin, luminescent tube of blue energy emerged. She reached up toward Silken with it, but when Silken saw it she immediately leapt back with speed that surprised even Twilight.
“What are you doing?” said Silken, quickly.
“I’ll upload the files directly from my neural implant. It will be faster.”
“Goddess, I cannot allow you to do that. Interfacing with a remnus- -”
“I’m immortal.”
“Yes, but that does not mean you are not subject to psychological trauma. And in your case, it could be even more severe seeing as you cannot naturally comprehend our nature.”
“I comprehend it well enough, Silken.”
“No. Of all ponies, you comprehend it the least. It looks different from the inside and the outside.” She paused, as if trying to consider what that meant.
“I could give you a direct order.”
“And I could refuse to obey it.”
Twilight groaned. “Fine,” she said, angrily. The projected tube collapsed into itself, changing shape and reconfiguring to Twilight’s will. After a few moments, it had become a translucent representation of an incredibly complex crystal. “There,” she said. “A program. For the initial production matrix. It’s going to take me at least six hours to program the rest of the pieces.” She gave the cube to Silken and then turned away. “Just get it done.”
“I will do my best, Goddess.” She started to turn, and then stopped. “Oh,” she said, “but before I go.” She extended a hoof with her own program projected in it. “This is for you.”
“What is it?”
“The preliminary translation of the language in the holographic message.”
“You know what it said?”
“No,” said Silken. “I am still running various algorithms to remove the interference. That will take more time. But this contains what is most probably the rudiments of the language.”
“Any idea on the linguistics?”
“I am not programmed for that. All I can say is that the probable translation efficiency is eighty three percent.”
“That’s really low,” said Twilight, taking the program and merging it with the computational matrix of her morphiplasm suit.
“It was the best I can do for now with only one transmission.”
“Well, reduce the processing you’re allocating to the description algorithm. I need it for the manufacturing process.”
“Shall I eliminate it entirely?”
Twilight paused for a moment. “No,” she said, surprised at her response. “Just decrease it.”
“It will be done, Goddess,” said Silken, bowing.
Silken left the room, leaving Twilight once again alone. Twilight watched the empty door for a moment, and then sat down. She did not mind being alone, even down here in this strange place. She had grown accustomed to it in her long life.
She began the painstaking process of constructing the code for the transmitter, generating it through a combination of the neural implants in her brain and through the connection she had to the morphiplasm that encased her.
Her prediction of the time it would take had been something of an overestimation, but the process still took a great deal of effort. After a few hours of painstaking construction, Twilight paused. She slowly looked around the room, and had the strangest feeling that it was looking back.
There was something unnatural about this place. It was unnerving, and impossible- -but at the same time, it seemed to be calling to her. As if she was supposed to be there.
It was not the only impossible thing that had happened recently. So much had, and if Twilight had been a younger mare she might have dedicated years of study to every single aspect. In her current state, though, she had learned to ignore curiosity in favor of solving distinct technological goals. Delving into mysteries was the territory of scientists and philosophers; the sphere of the Princess focused instead on protecting and managing the kingdom.
Yet the walls still called to her. She could almost hear their strange voices, and if she stopped and looked long enough she could see them shifting and growing, slowly spawning and connecting new machinery into the vast and indecipherable system that they were a part of. What it was- -WHY it was- -eluded Twilight completely, and this unknowing was the first thing she had felt in a long time that made the more scientific aspects of her spirit burn.
Because of this, Twilight found herself standing up and walking around the perimeter of the room. She was still constructing the code she had been focused on, but only in the back of her mind. She had grown more interested in her surroundings than the antenna.
As she looked, the wall seemed to react to her presence. Thin threads of black and silver retracted, pulling away from the machinery beneath. In some places, abandoned mechanisms and systems had become overgrown with metal, resulting in a calcified skeleton for new and useful machinery to be fastened to. That new machinery was strange and indecipherable- -mostly.
Twilight was amazed to see that some of it looked familiar. A few things resembled items that had been standard long ago. Among these was something that looked curiously similar to an interface port.
Staring at it, Twilight could not manage to stop herself. She lifted her hoof toward it and extended her morphiplasm surface to match the ancient adapter. Several narrow bands of blue energy reached out and connected with the system.
What Twilight got was exactly what she should have expected. The data on the other side shot through her like an electrical shock. It was garbled, confused, and useless, but profoundly LOUD. It was like screaming inside her nervous system, and she screamed. It screamed back- -and for a moment she heard what sounded like voices within the signal.
The force of the connection knocked Twilight back and away from the port. She took a step back, only for her knees to buckle. Her own nervous system had taken a substantial shock, but the error went deeper than that. The interface between her and her suit had been partially damaged, and the power assist system was in convulsions.
Twilight swore loudly and tried to stand, only to be nearly thrown on her side. She had no choice; because of her own stupidity, she would have to abandon the malfunctioning portions of the suit and wait for them to reset. Begrudgingly, she engaged the release system. The suit separated from her nerves- -not a painful situation, but one that was profoundly disturbing in its own right- -and then extended itself away from her, supporting itself as a four-legged frame over her.
The only parts of it that Twilight kept were several central processing nodes and the rebreather system. Neither of those seemed to have received critical damage. This meant that Twilight kept the mask of the suit only, separating it from the primary body. She was profoundly glad of that.
Just as she started to lament her own stupidity, the lights in the room suddenly dimmed. Several needle-like projections shot from the walls, and before Twilight had a chance to wonder if they were a defensive system of some kind the hologram appeared.
It flickered and buzzed, just as it had before, but it was much clearer than before. It was only slightly grainy, and there were a few intermittent visual artifacts, but this time Twilight could easily see the being who had created it.
Whatever it was, it looked different than it had in the first image. Even through the distortion of that image, Twilight had seen at least shadows of its form: a whirl of strange, asymmetrical technological components that formed a bizarre body that was distorted and incomprehensible in its own right even without the interference. In this image, it maintained elements of its previous form, but was simpler and smaller in design.
The being was quite clearly a quadruped of some sort. It’s body was covered in armor similar the one it had worn before, but not as fully developed or integrated into its external ports. It looked more like clothing than it did the shell of some perverse parody of a crustacean. There was still some semblance of the asymmetrical nature of the being, but it was less pronounced and there were fewer extraneous or shifting parts. What Twilight was most surprised to see, though, was that one of the creature’s eyes was exposed. It appeared to be large and organic.
The hologram began to speak. Twilight could see a mechanical system in its metallic neck engaging and disengaging, looking something like the control valves for a complicated wind instrument. Upon hearing this, Twilight quickly attempted to engage the translation program that Silken had given her. She was relieved to see that it still functioned, if only partially.
“…and retrieval survey,” it said, “the news was grim. The Builders found no signs of new construction, nor indication of life. No knew Marker had been placed, either, meaning that the Ceremony of Passing had not been performed.” It paused. “This leads me to believe that the civilization is now extinct. This…saddens me.”
Part of the message was damaged, and Twilight could not translate. For a moment she feared that she would not be able to understand the rest, but the system resynchronized after a few sentences. “With regard to the Project,” it said, “I can finally answer that I have succeeded, if only partially. The latest group is viable.” She paused and released a slow hiss that despite its alien tone sounded curiously like crying. “Viable. After all this time, viable. I locked their development. They will remain in stasis indefinitely.” It paused for a long time, and the organic eye seemed to look to the side. “But that does leave the problem of the sixth. The alicorn. All my attempts with her have failed. It may be due to the nature of alicorn biology, that I just cannot replicate it with the samples I have…or…” It paused again, “but that would be impossible. It’s been too long. She can’t be…but if she was…the implications would be profound.”
The eye suddenly turned and seemed to stare at Twilight with such force that Twilight took a step back. “But that does raise the question. My personal life. Or what is left of it. I can’t…I can’t remember why I made them…”
The eye continued to stare at Twilight as the hologram flickered and went out. With it gone, Twilight felt profoundly alone.
There was no explanation for what it had said. Twilight had ideas, but no sound proof. All she had were dark, hazy memories that circled just beyond her conscious mind. She could almost remember things, but they remained out of her grasp- -or were forced away. Twilight did not trust those particular ghosts.
But she had to know. So, leaving the last few components of the antenna for later, she made her way through the complex of ever-growing machinery and too the central chamber. It was empty, and darker now, although there was still some light. It sounded different too- -as though the machines had begun to retract from its infrastructure, leaving it abandoned to eventually be calcified and consumed for resources to make new and better things.
Slowly, Twilight marched past the five circular pads with their spindly and now still robotic mechanisms, the places where the five impossible ponies had been born. The tubes they had grown in now sat suspended and silent overhead, supported by the machinery that had until just hours before been feeding the ponies within them.
Twilight did not like this place. It was wrong. She had seen a number of things in her life, and on more than one occasion she had walked into a room like this and felt that sensation. That what was being constructed there was not meant to exist. That had often been in facilities that had belonged to various deviants and necromancers, but in this case it felt different. In those cases, there had been a sense of evil intent; here, there was none at all. These machines had no operator, or even a remnant of one. They conducted their business on their own, perhaps half-remembering the will of someone long since departed.
The tubes were not what interested Twilight. She did not like them anyway. Instead, she made her way to the altar at the far end of them, built where a sixth tube would have fit perfectly. It had not retreated into the ground, and sat there just as it had when she had seen it. The book from before still sat on top.
Twilight paused in front of it, and then leaned in closely. No dust had gathered on the violet cover, but it was badly faded. With a great deal of effort, Twilight lit her horn. It was disparaging that lighting it was all she could do, although there were signs of improvement.
In the glow, it was possible to see the rough shape of what had once been imprinted on the cover. It was the symbol of a horseshoe, with five worn marks along its shape and a star in the center. Twilight’s heart beat faster as she recognized it: it was the inner portion of the Five-and-One. In fact, with the five other symbols, it almost WAS a Five-and-One.
“My symbol,” she said, looking back at her flank where a different version of the very same symbol was indelibly drawn. She then turned back to the book, and before she knew what she was doing, she opened the cover.
The first page was not paper. Twilight was not sure what it was, exactly, but it seemed to serve in the same capacity as a normal page. It was not bound, though; it seemed to have been added later. Twilight looked at it, and found that it was completely unreadable. The text was jagged and confused, and broken in many places in strange ways. Some of the letters looked nearly Equestrian, but others looked entirely alien.
Twilight pushed that page away and turned her attention to the book. She had not seen one in centuries, but as she gently and delicately turned the fragile pages she felt a warm sense of familiarity wash over her. She recalled that she had once loved books. Every part of them: the smell, weather new and fresh or having accumulated over many years; the sound of the pages, the slightly different styles of the typesetting. She had forgotten how sad she was that books had ceased to exist.
This book was not typed, though. It was hoof-written, meaning that it was a journal of some kind. The text, though in some cases sloppy and difficult to read, consisted entirely of symbols that Twilight slowly began to remember. She had not seen the Old Language written in what felt like an eternity, but here it was, not as files of ideal forms in some museum but in the forms of letters written by actual ponies who were able to forge words from these symbols, and then to make sentences and paragraphs in the forgotten language.
Twilight read them, and she quickly found that she could not turn away. The journal consisted of a system of individual stories, apparently by six independent authors. They contained short tales from a forgotten world about things that Twilight found to her terror that she could almost remember.
“But that…”
She turned the page, and her jaw dropped as she recognized her own writing. It was not possible, of course. She could not remember having written in this book, and even if she had, it would have been countless centuries ago. There was no way it could be here, or could have survived.
The story in question involved something about a ruined castle, but Twilight scarcely read it. She flipped through quickly, scanning the pages. She was referenced several times by name, not in the way modern religious texts did but as though she were an actual, ordinary pony doing ordinary things. Things that Twilight could not remember having done.
Other names were referenced as well. Various strange, ancient-sounding names: Applebloom, Granny Smith, Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, Coco Pommel, Sassy Saddles, Maud, Marble, Limestone, Spike.
“Spike,” said Twilight, her eyes widening. One of the ghosts beyond her consciousness came through. She recalled a grand creature, a massive an ancient beast with wisdom only exceeded by his history of heroism. A dragon, one of the last of his kind before their final extinction prior to the Exodus. The memory was blurred and distant, but it was there.
Five names seemed to come up more often, though. They appeared to be the names of the authors- -and they matched the names of the ponies who had been born from the tanks that now sat empty behind Twilight.
“No,” said Twilight, stepping back from the book. “This isn’t possible. That doesn’t make any sense!” She looked around at the dark room. No one was there, but something was still listening, even if it was just the impassive walls.
Twilight wanted to scream, but nothing came out except a hoarse squeak. She stood in that room, alone and naked save for the mask she wore, shaking and sweating despite the damp chill in the air.
“I have to know,” she said. With a shaking hoof, she reached up and pressed one of the morphiplasm valves on the side of her rebreather. Her mask immediately fogged from her breath as it ceased to recirculate air.
Twilight tried to control her breathing, but it was difficult. Her body began to instinctively resist what she was trying to do. Almost immediately, her breathing picked up. The air burned to breath. It was not recirculating, after all, and the amount of carbon dioxide present in it increased with every breath.
Her eyes hurt, and her lungs were screaming. There was an element of instinctive fear that became increasingly difficult to resist. Ever second, Twilight came closer to trying to tear off the mask for fresh air, but she managed to force herself not to. Several red indicators went off inside the mask, but Twilight carefully- -or as carefully as it could be done in this kind of situation- -temporarily turned off the safety protocols.
When she finally did begin to panic, it was already too late. She was no longer coordinated enough to reach the valve, and she collapsed to her side. The floor came up to greet her, and the impact felt like landing on something soft and loud. The world had already started to fade to black, and Twilight took one last long, gasping breath.
Then she opened her eyes. She was once again surrounded by dark stone arches and planters of eternally fresh lavender. Across form her, Luna was staring back.
“There are easier ways to overcome your insomnia, Twilight,” she sighed.
“Not for me,” said Twilight. “I needed to get to sleep immediately, and I did not have time to wait all night for it.”
“It is not good for your brain, you know.”
“I’ve had worse, and I’ll heal.” Twilight took a step forward, her body moving easily and comfortably through the dream realm. “The safety system will reengage in a few seconds, and I’ll wake back up.”
“That may be true,” said Luna, “but having you here twice in such a short time does not bode well.” She paused. “Although I appreciate the company. You do not visit me often.”
“Once the Mortality Virus is cured, I’ll visit every single night,” said Twilight.
“Will you?” asked Luna.
Twilight did not answer, but it was clear that Luna already knew. Luna did not demand an answer, though, and turned down the long hall. Twilight followed, falling in step with the elder alicorn.
“I will assume you are here for a reason,” said Luna.
“I am. And I’ve discovered something…unusual.”
“On the planet? What sort of thing?”
“I’m not sure. Have you heard anything from Equestria?”
“Dreams, you mean?” Twilight nodded, and Luna considered. “There are many dreams these days, and have been for a long time. I rarely try to listen to Equestria. Not because of the dreams I find, but because the silence is…” She trailed off before finishing with a word with far less weight than the emotion she was clearly trying to reference, “…unsettling.”
“So no dreams?”
“Not that I could reach. Perhaps it is the atmosphere, or that whatever dwells on that planet sleeps so very deeply.” Luna looked down at Twilight. Even after all this time, she was still taller. “But that is not what you came here to ask me, is it? You came to make a request.”
“I did,” replied Twilight. “I need you to restore part of my memory.”
Luna looked forward as they walked. “Memories,” she said softly to herself.
“Can you do it?”
Luna’s eyes tilted to Twilight, but she did not answer. Instead, she was silent as the pair of them entered an enormous circular room. In the center stood a hovering model of a rocky, blue-gray orb that filled most of the center of the room. A number of black priestesses were looking upward at it, admiring it in quiet contemplation. Surrounding them at the far edge of the room were lush but strange plants with narrow, silver needles as foliage. They were a sort that had never before been witnessed in the Waking World.
“The third moon of Ky’yanus Seven,” said Twilight, immediately recognizing the image on display.
“Indeed,” said Luna. “A quite beautiful specimen. Perhaps one of my favorites, even. The surface is marked with mountains and valleys unmatched anywhere else in the universe. And Ky’yanus has grown old and red, so when this moon and its sisters rise together they reflect in every shade of red and orange- -and in this one, at certain parts of its orbit, a the most brilliant violet.”
“Poetic,” said Twilight, although with mild sarcasm. “But I don’t see how a planet with no life can possibly be beautiful.”
“Woe to she who cannot find beauty in the lifeless desolation,” said Luna, as though she were quoting a poem. She turned slightly to ward Twilight. “Especially to the immortal, as such to be surrounded by such eternal desolation is our final fate.” She paused. “Also, it is a moon. Not a planet.”
“Do you have to be so gloomy?” sighed Twilight. “Don’t forget. If ponies disappear, so does this world you inhabit.”
“Does it?” asked Luna, raising an eyebrow. “Indeed, this is so very enlightening. To think you understood the true nature of my domain better than myself, even! Indeed, I am hardly worthy to be in the presence of such a superior alicorn.”
“You don’t need to be sarcastic,” snapped Twilight. “Just answer the question! Can you restore my memory or not?”
Luna, who had been close to a giggle, assumed an expression of grave seriousness. She sighed, and walked toward the nameless moon. Twilight followed her, only distantly noticing that the priestesses had vanished, departing to other duties so that the pair of Princesses could be alone.
A thin glow of blue light emerged from Luna’s long horn, and the image of the moon was replaced by that of another: a sickly yellow semi-sphere with a smaller black orb floating over the crater that had consumed half of it. Seeming not to believe this one appropriate, Luna shifted the image again through several more obscure moons until she reached one that she found appropriate. It was a strange looking planetoid, one whose surface was dominated by massive crystalloids that reflected the dull blue-green light of the gas-planet it orbited.
“Memory is an interesting thing,” said Luna as she looked up at the crystal moon, “one that I have spent a great deal of time observing.”
“Then can you give me my memories back?”
“I can open doors,” said Luna, “and a pony may step through if she so chooses. But what she finds on the other side is up to her.”
“Were you always this obtuse?”
Luna frowned. “I am not being obtuse, Twilight. I am giving you a warning.”
“A warning of what?”
“That there are some doors best left closed. Doors that cannot be shut once opened.” She looked up at the slowly revolving moon. “We are immortal,” she said. “Us three, the so-called ‘Tribunal’. It is our Royal duty to withstand and carry that burden. You understand that.”
“I do,” said Twilight.
“There is little relief from that weight. Our memory is one of them. It is one of the only mercies that fate has granted our kind. The fact that we can forget.”
“From your perspective.” Twilight looked up at the moon overhead. It was hideous. “To me, a failure of memory is a weakness. A defect. I can recall more information than any computer. History, science, technology- -the exact wording of every book I have ever read in the past thousand centuries.” She paused. “But now I’m learning that pieces of my life are missing. That there are parts I can’t remember.”
“Which is how it is supposed to be,” said Luna. “The past is meant to be forgotten, to vanish into the time behind us. We are not like mortals, Twilight. They are left behind with the past, but we progress forward, eternally, into the future.”
“But knowledge of the past could inform our course.”
“Or it could destroy us!” Luna turned to Twilight, looking almost afraid. “And I do not mean forbidden technology, or profane magic. I mean us. Our lives. Friends past, long-departed lovers, families…”
“I have never had any friends so long as I can remember,” said Twilight, “and I doubt that I did in the part I cannot recall. It just doesn’t fit my personality.”
“Your memory is not as long as mine. Compared to me, you are but a child. And compared to my sister, we are both merely infants. Perhaps I have come to know you better than you know yourself?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“What I mean is that I can show you the door, yes. You can have your memories back. But the fact that you do not have them means that you probably forgot them for a reason. I recommend against this course of action.”
“It is my mind. Do it.”
Luna paused for a moment, and Twilight thought that she might not acquiesce. Then she did, raising her horn. In an instant, the planet was gone, and the room, though still vast and round, was not nearly large enough to support its height.
The silver plants were also gone, and the edge of the room where they had been was now filled with a number of doors. Many were similar, though not identical, and a few varied substantially.
“What are these?” asked Twilight.
“Doors,” said Luna. “To dreams. To ponies. However you wish to perceive it.” She sighed. “I’m afraid the number decreases every day.”
“Which is what I am trying to prevent.” For some reason, Twilight felt as though she were reminding herself of that fact.
“The decrease is hardly the most disturbing trend of modern times,” said Luna, darkly. “Sometimes, I find doors that should no longer exist.”
Twilight shuddered. “What is behind those doors?”
“I only passed through one once,” said Luna. “And I never will again.” She did not answer Twilight’s question. Instead, she stepped toward one of the doors. It was relatively nondescript, and had a distinctly conservative and simple design with a number of well-organized flush angles. “This door is yours,” she said.
“But I’m already dreaming,” said Twilight, confused.
“You are. And you are not. Through that door is you, and what you seek. And what may very well destroy you if you are uncareful.”
This gave Twilight pause, but only for a moment. She then steeled herself and stepped forward. The door opened as she approached. She was not sure if this was her own doing- -her magic in this world bore no limitations form injuries to her physical body- -or if it had sensed her presence and opened on its own. The world inside was dark and hazy, looking like most of her memories did.
She stopped only once more, on the very threshold of the drop into her past. She suddenly understood what Luna had meant. What lay waiting in that darkness was unclear, but Twilight now understood that it was pain. No matter what she found, it would hurt, badly. That was why this space was so black.
The haze instantly split and light surged downward, nearly blinding Twilight. She cried out in pain; it had been so long since her eyes had beheld anything so bright.
“Twilight?” said a concerned sounding voice. “Is everything alright?”
Twilight opened her eyes and looked around. The setting she found herself in was not terrifying or grotesque, and although she knew it was Equestria it was one so distant through time that even the idea of it was incomprehensible. It was not the frozen and alien world that her physical body lay suffocating on, nor was it the toxic industrial wasteland from the time of the Exodus. Instead, Twilight found herself in an idyllic setting more beautiful than any ark garden. The ground was covered in lush, green grass dotted with the occasional jaunty flower, and trees sprung up from deep soil without the need for internal tubing and support systems. The sky was blue, not black, and filled with puffy white clouds. The light that had burned Twilight’s eyes was the sun, which sat high in the sky.
The pony that had spoken was a white unicorn. Her look of concern matched the tone of her voice.
“Rarity,” said Twilight. Her voice felt distant, as though it were not her at all who was saying it. “No. I’m fine. I just…I think I had something in my eye.”
“Oh, darling, you should have said so!” Rarity reached into her bag and produced a box containing tissues. “I always carry these for dramatic emergencies. Dab, don’t rub!”
Twilight took one in her magic, and continued to look around. She was confused. The world did not look quite right. It looked like it was supposed to, but somehow, everything was hazy, almost grainy. Her eyes would not focus on certain parts of it no matter how hard she tried, and the light seemed off. Whenever anypony spoke, their voices were affected by the same fog as the scenery: they sounded as though they were speaking from the far side of a hill, or through a great death of dark water.
Rarity was not alone. The rest of Twilight’s friends were there too. They were all sitting around a plaid blanket. Food had been prepared and brought in a basket; it was the types of plant-based items and baked goods that Twilight felt as though she had not seen in so very long. Applejack was in the process of taking an apple fritter, and Pinkie Pie had just said something that had made Rainbow Dash laugh so hard that milk had shot out of her nose. Fluttershy sat somewhat separate from the others, her attention devoted to a small rabbit. All of them looked somehow distant, as though they were not really there; it was as if Twilight were viewing them through a long-forgotten recording.
They spoke, and after what felt like an eternity their voices came into focus.
“Twilight! Twilight!” called Rainbow Dash, wiping the milk from her nose and jumping up toward Twilight. “Pinkie! Tell her that joke! Tell it!”
“Rainbow Dash,” sighed Pinkie, a smile on her face. Twilight remembered that smile. She had missed it so very much. “It won’t work. The timing on that sort of thing has to be perfect.”
“Come on! That joke can’t possibly be bad!”
Pinkie Pie rolled her eyes. “Alright. What does a Pegasus use on her spaghetti?”
“Pega-SAUCE!” cried Rainbow Dash, almost before Pinkie had finished the joke.
The entire group groaned, even Fluttershy’s rabbit.
“Oh,” said Rainbow Dash. “Wow. Yeah. You were right. That really didn’t work, did it?”
“Nope,” said Pinkie. “Don’t question the Pinkie when it comes to jokes. I knows what I knows.”
“I haven’t heard a joke that bad since I filed my taxes,” said Applejack. “Whoo-boy. I can almost smell it.”
“Are you criticizing my tax structure?” asked Twilight.
“I just might be. Did it really need to have that many pages?”
“It only has a few!”
Applejack raised an eyebrow. “At one point the forms collapsed on poor Big Mac and nearly squeezed the apple juice clean out of him. If his wife hadn’t been there to help me get it off of him, he might still be under there.”
“Darling, you have no idea,” said Rarity. “Imagine trying to submit in seven individual districts! Each of my boutiques has an COMPLETELY different set of forms!” She paused. “Although, the Ponyville Royal tax might be a wee bit bigger than the rest?”
“Wait a minute,” said Rainbow Dash. “Since when do we pay taxes?”
They all turned to her. “Since three years ago,” said Twilight.
“Oh,” said Rainbow Dash. “Well…nopony told me!”
Pinkie Pie began laughing, and the rest joined in, except for Twilight. She did not find tax evasion to be a laughing matter at all.
As the mutual fit of laughter subsided, Applejack spoke. “When did we get so old?” she asked. “Look at us. Sittin’ around discussing taxes.”
“Darling, I would HARDLY call myself old,” said Rarity.
“You weren’t saying that when your thirtieth birthday was rolling around.”
Rarity glared, but Pinkie Pie giggled. “You have no idea how often that happens,” she said.
“Thirty isn’t that old,” said Fluttershy. “Not for a pony, anyway. Isn’t that right, Angel III?”
The small brown rabbit nodded.
“Ha,” said Rainbow Dash, “you’re all old.”
“Either that,” said Applejack, “or you’re just not ripe yet.”
They all laughed again. Then Rarity spoke.
“We just don’t do this often enough,” she said. “When was the last time we were together like this? I admit, I’ve been dreadfully busy as of recent, what with the business. And what with preparing for Applejack’s wedding.”
“Aw, shucks,” said Applejack, blushing. “Rarity, you’re jumping to conclusions again. If there’s going to be a wedding, it’s years off- -and besides, I don’t think it’s going to work out anyway.”
Rarity gasped. “Applejack! Why would you say that?!”
“Because I don’t really have time for that sort of thing. Business is booming, and I have so much work to do on the farm. And with Big Mac having a foal, and Applebloom going off to school, well…”
“Well indeed,” said Rarity, looking somewhat dejected. “Well, it’s never to early to plan.” She turned to Twilight. “Although, of course, if you would hurry up, I might get a chance to plan a ROYAL wedding.”
Twilight blushed. “That’s not going to happen any time soon,” she said.
“You would be surprised,” said Fluttershy. “A little birdie told me that he’s seen you spending an awful lot of time with Flash these days.”
“Purely on business!” cried Twilight, her blushing betraying her. The others looked as though they were about to laugh, but sensing her discomfort decided to let the matter drop.
“Well,” said Pinkie Pie, “I may not be getting married, but I AM going to have the absolute very bestest sisters day EVER tomorrow!”
“Did you finally get Marble and Limestone to agree to come?”
“Oh yeah! It took FOREVER, and a lot of convincing…several bribes…and level 100 speechcraft skill, but I did it! It’s like trying to convince Applejack to take a day off and Fluttershy to go to a party at the SAME TIME!”
“I do have crippling social phobia,” admitted Fluttershy. “But I’ve been writing to Marble. She seems very excited.”
“Of course she’s excited! I’M EXCITED!” Pinkie Pie vibrated heartily. “And you should see Maud! She’s positively ecstatic!” Pinkie Pie turned to Rarity. “And you’re going to be there, aren’t you?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for all of Equestria,” said Rarity. “I’ve pressed on the new fall fashion line all week just to clear my schedule for it! I just adore Maud.” Rarity gasped. “Perhaps you four could model for me? It will only take an hour- -and earth-grays are ALL the rage this year. Celestia knows why.”
“But Pinkie Pie isn’t gray,” said Rainbow Dash. “She’s pink. It’s in her name.”
“It is in my name,” said Pinkie Pie, shrugging.
“Well…yes,” admitted Rarity.
“It’ll be fine,” said Pinkie Pie. “Maud just LOVES fashion, and I’ve seen Marble trying on her socks more than once. But after that, we’re gonna paint the town red!”
The dream seemed to shift. Some resolution was lost, and the image took on a strange sepia tone. It seemed to phase forward quickly, and Twilight caught hints of a conversation, and of the emotions she felt toward these ponies. They were like sisters to her, and they had been since she had met them over ten years earlier. They were her friends, and she loved them.
Then she turned her head, and the dream slowed to a normal pace, although it did not lose its discolored tone. Two ponies had just emerged down the nearby path. Both were unicorns, and one of them was a pale violet pony with extensive bicolor hair. Twilight recognized her as Starlight Glimmer. The pony beside her, staring longingly at Starlight, was a blue unicorn mare with white hair. Twilight could not remember her name, although she was aware that had known it at one point long ago.
“Starlight!” said Twilight, standing up. “Come join us! We’re having a picnic!”
Starlight and the blue unicorn looked to each other, and then at Twilight. “That would be great,” said Starlight, “but we were just taking a walk through the park.”
“Sure,” said Rainbow Dash. “A ‘walk’. And I’m sure you were ‘walking’ on that bench over by the lake.”
The blue unicorn blushed, but Starlight did not. “We have to get back to the preparations. For the new spell.”
“Oh!” cried Twilight. “That’s tomorrow!”
“It is,” said Starlight. She raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t forget, did you? We’ve been working on it for six months”
“I didn’t forget!” lied Twilight. She turned to her friends. “We’re testing out a new experimental spell! It’s derived from a basic framework created by Starswirl the Bearded but completed by his student, Clover the Clever, but that had been used for an entirely different purpose historically until we rediscovered it. Starlight had the idea of merging it with a Statswirlian vortex using the inherent power of the Map to stabilize the recirculation, meaning that a spell meant for water purification can be combined with one for- -”
“Twilight,” said Rarity. “Breathe.”
Twilight took an extremely deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just so excited!”
“And what, exactly, does this spell do?” asked Applejack.
Twilight smiled mischievously. “Well, you’ll see. I don’t want to get your hopes up. It’s still in the very early development stage- -”
“But all our calculations indicate that it should be functional,” said Starlight. “We just need to run the first launch to get data for fine-tuning.”
“Launch?” said Fluttershy. “Oh dear.”
“It’s a figure of speech,” laughed Starlight. “Trust me, I was nervous at first too, but Twilight showed me eighteen different approaches to the math that proves it’s perfectly safe.”
“Nineteen,” corrected Twilight.
“Paratransversive calculus doesn’t count! You can prove anything with that if you use the right constants!”
“What exactly does it do?” asked Pinkie Pie.
“Paratransversive calculus? It’s used to predict the mass to volume ratio of eddies produced by transdimensional curves- -”
“Not that,” said Pinkie Pie. “I already know that. Sort of. Kind of. Well, I know how to make change for a bit, but that’s not easy at all! I mean what does the spell do? Does it make frosting?”
“Pinkie Pie,” said Rainbow Dash, “why would a spell make frosting?”
“Icing, then?” suggested Pinkie Pie.
“No. Like I said, you’ll see if it works. Actually…” Twilight looked at Starlight and the blue unicorn, then at her friends. “You can come see if you want. We can always use more help.”
“Hardly,” said the blue pony, only to be elbowed by Starlight.
“Well, we’re already having company,” said Rarity, meaning the sister’s day.
“And I’m gearing up for the harvest,” said Applejack. “And tomorrow Fluttershy’s going to help me with the birds and fruit bats, getting them organized and all.”
“I’ll be busy all day,” said Fluttershy. “But I will be there in spirit!”
“Rainbow Dash?” asked Twilight.
“I’ve got work,” sighed Rainbow Dash.
“Work? I thought you quit!” said Rarity. “I mean, after officer’s school- -”
“Being an officer in the Wonderbolts is a dream come true,” said Rainbow Dash, “but it doesn’t pay well. And I need money. To pay taxes, apparently. That, and not having a job is really messing with my schedule. I have a lot of naps- -I mean atmospheric phenomena to catch up on.”
“Oh,” said Twilight, feeling far more disappointed that she showed. “Well, sure. But if any of you want to come help, we’ll be out at the castle.”
“Yeah. All day,” said Starlight. She shrugged. “We’re not going anywhere…”
The dream suddenly ended, interrupted by sudden pain. The happiness that Twilight had felt in it was replaced by the cold reality of her modern life, and something else. She sat up suddenly, gasping for air. It smelled strange to her, not like the beautiful scent of fresh-cut grass and leaves about to start changing color in her dream. This was a smell of stale metal, and things rotting.
She looked around in a panic, not understanding where she was or what was happening. Her eyes latched onto two figures nearby, though. One was Applejack, staring at her with a look of intense concern, her green eyes wide. It looked as though she had been crying. Standing beside her was a far more disinterested looking hologram of a violet alicorn.
“Twilight!” cried Applejack. “Thank Celestia, you’re alright! When I found you, you weren’t- -you weren’t breathing!”
Twilight groaned. “The safety protocols,” she said, feeling the acidity of her blood leaving as she slowly managed to catch her breath. “They must…they must not have activated…” Her eyes suddenly widened. “My mask! Where is- -”
“It’s here,” said Applejack, holding out the transparent portion of Twilight’s morphiplasm rebreather. Twilight took it and slammed it back onto her face before taking several long breaths. The smell receded- -the smell of Equestria, the world that had once been her home, the smell that reminded her of everything she had forced herself to forget that she had lost.
“But how did you know?” she said at last.
Applejack turned to the hologram. “She told me.”
The hologram looked at Twilight for a moment with its empty, dead eyes. Then it turned and started walking, dissipating into nothingness as it left without a single word.
Applejack watched it go, but then turned to Twilight. Her fear and tears had become anger. “What in the name of Luna’s tiny haunches were you trying to do?!” She cried. “Was that an accident? If it was, why the hay weren’t you breathing the air like the rest of us? How many times do I need to tell you about equipment upkeep- -”
“It was not an accident. I cut off my own air supply.”
Applejack’s eyes widened. “You WHAT?!”
“I needed to sleep,” said Twilight. “I can’t do it normally. Not anymore. The guilt. You wouldn’t understand.”
“But- -but why? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?! Twilight, if I had lost you- -”
“I needed to talk to Luna,” said Twilight, remembering their conversation. “We were talking about…”
Suddenly, the memory hit her so hard that she almost cried out in surprise. Twilight’s eyes widened and she fell silent as she looked at Applejack. She tried to speak, but found that she could not.
“Twilight?” asked Applejack, her anger once again turning to fear and concern for her friend. “What’s wrong?”
“It…it worked,” whispered Twilight. “I can…I can remember you…”
“Long dress! Extended train! Short dress! Cocktail dress! Skirt and blouse combination! Trousers and blouse! Trousers and sweater!”
Twilight did not know why these particular words were being spoken, although she recognized that the speaker was Rarity, and that the statements were pronounced with joy and excitement.
“What is she doing?” asked Twilight. Applejack was beside her as they walked through a tall and narrow hall overgrown with pipes that sprung from the walls at every angle.
“I have no idea,” said Applejack.
Even when the corridor expanded into a large room and Twilight was able to see the other ponies, she still did not fully comprehend what she was seeing. The others were, indeed, in the room: Rainbow Dash lying on one side of it and looking slightly unwell, with Fluttershy standing beside her. Pinkie Pie sat very still in a high alcove in the wall, watching the events below in silence through her long, straight bangs. Rarity, though, was prancing around in the center of the room. To Twilight’s greatest surprise, she was wearing clothing.
“Formal skirt and blazer! Modern fit sleeveless! Shorts! Business casual!”
Every time she would state an outfit, the one she was wearing would momentarily collapse into pale liquid and reconfigure itself over her body, forming the garment or style that she had announced. Twilight at first regarded this with confusion, then amazement- -and then anger.
“My morphiplasm!” she cried. “Where did you get that?!”
“Oh!” said Rarity, swirling around and causing the morphiplasm to align itself as a long and elegant white and gold dress. “My apologies, darling, but I saw it standing there and, well, I was just so curious about modern clothing that I couldn’t help myself! I was going to put it right back, but then, well…” She stood up and raised her hooves above her head, causing the dress to convert into a double-breasted coat over a narrow skirt. “Then I saw what it can DO! Anything I think of, it becomes! I had no idea! I can make dresses…” The suit shifted to an entirely different form of a dress, “and blouses…” It became a blouse. “Or I can reduce it so it feels like I’m wearing nothing at all!” The morphiplasm suddenly shrunk around her body, forming an imperceptibly thin and extremely tight white layer around her body. Behind her, Rainbow Dash’s wings involuntarily extended with an audible “pomf”.
Rarity paused, looking over her shoulder at Rainbow Dash. She then turned to Twilight. “I just can’t understand why you made it look so DRAB! If this is the future of couture- -”
“RARITY!” shouted Twilight, causing the room to fall silent. “Don’t try my clothes on without my permission! I never thought I would be saying that to YOU, but you of all ponies should know how ANNOYING it is!”
Twilight found herself panting filtered, recirculated air as the room remained silent. The only sound was her breathing.
“You…you remember us?” said Rarity after a long, long pause.
“She does,” said Applejack with tone of profound relief.
“Not completely,” said Twilight, tempering Applejack’s enthusiasm. “I remember that I did once know you. A long time ago. Most of it is…blurry. I don’t know all of it.”
Fluttershy spoke up as she helped Rainbow Dash to her hooves. “But you remember that we are your friends?”
Twilight took a long time to respond. “Yes,” she said. “I remember that you were.”
“Where?”
They closed in closer, and Twilight took a few steps back. She did not want to get near them, largely for the same reason that she refused to breathe the Equestrian atmosphere.
“My memory isn’t good,” she said. “Not from that time. But I don’t understand how you are here. It shouldn’t be possible.”
The ponies looked at each other.
“Yeah,” said Rainbow Dash. “I was kind of wondering that too.”
“No you weren’t,” said Rarity, shifting her skin-tight leotard into a simple white blouse. Twilight was actually extremely impressed; she had never seen a pony with such profound control of morphiplasm. She did not admit that, though. “But I think we all are now.”
They looked around, none of them wanting to speak. Eventually it was Fluttershy of all ponies who broke the silence.
“The last thing I remember was an explosion,” she said. The others all turned to her. She recoiled slightly with a small squeak. “That is, while I was on the road to Applejack’s. I had stopped to help some snakes, and when they got across the road I was greeting some fieldmice…and then there was a big explosion! Oh, I was so afraid! I thought I was going to faint!” She paused. “But I didn’t. And I saw a light…”
“I remember that too,” said Applejack. “Not the light part, but an explosion. One from down in Ponyville. I was just about to run over when…” She winced as though she were trying to think. “…I was here…”
“Well, I certainly saw a light,” said Rarity. “It practically blinded me! And the explosion shook my whole boutique! Things spilling everywhere, falling every which way! Why, I even cut my hoof on…” She looked down at her hoof, but there was no wound. Not even the slightest sign of a scar. “…on my scissors…”
“I saw it too!” cried Rainbow Dash so loudly that the others jumped. “It woke me up from my nape- -I mean it disrupted my cloud herding! The light went straight up toward the sky and nearly hit me! It came right from the castle!” She looked over her shoulder. “Hey, Pinks, did you see it too?”
Pinkie Pie nodded silently.
“An explosion from the castle?” Twilight was confused, and she wracked her brain. The memory came suddenly and without warning, and Twilight wished that she had not brought it back. Her teeth clenched as she recalled what had happened that day. It was something that had taken her many thousands of years to force herself to forget. “I know what that was,” she said, darkly.
“What?” asked Rarity.
“Twilight, if you know anything- -”
Twilight looked at them. “It was an experimental spell,” she said. “We were testing it that day. Myself and Starlight. And…” Her mind blanked. “That blue unicorn.”
The others looked at her, confused. “You mean Trixie?” said Applejack.
“Maybe. I don’t remember her name.”
“She was your rival,” said Rarity. “Well, at least for a while. She got better.”
“Eh…” said Rainbow Dash in mild disagreement.
“My canonical rival was the Witchlord Sarkon Vortrenth,” said Twilight. “Our armies fought continuously for eight hundred and thirty seven years before I finally severed her head for the sixth and final time. I still have it, actually.” She paused. “And sixteen star systems were rendered uninhabitable…I assume that this ‘Trixie’ was similar, then?”
Every one of the other ponies shook their heads vehemently.
“Well,” said Twilight, clearing her throat. “Yes. The three of us, myself, Starlight, and this Trixie, we were attempting to perform the spell. What you saw was it failing.”
“I remember that!” cried Rainbow Dash. “At the picnic yesterday! You were talking about it!” They all paused. “But…none of us did…”
“I’m glad you didn’t. The failure was catastrophic,” said Twilight, harshly, although her aggression and hatred was not targeted toward the others. “The spell failed! It…it imploded.” She paused for a long moment, temporarily unwilling to face the memory of what had happened. “It would have been much worse…but Starlight…” Twilight took a breath. “She contained it…”
“Well, that sounds about right for Starlight!” laughed Applejack.
“…but no living pony could have withstood that much feedback. She…she didn’t make it.”
There were collective gasps from the others as their eyes widened.
“She…she didn’t…”
“Twilight,” said Applejack, speaking firmly and stepping forward to put a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was,” said Twilight, calmly. “It was. I should have been able to predict that we would lose containment. My math was wrong, the models didn’t account for the inherrant cascade amplification…” She looked Applejack in the eye. “It’s my fault. If I had done better…if I had been smarter, or faster, or more powerful…or a better friend…”
“What kind of spell was it?”
The others looked as Pinkie Pie jumped down from her perch. Her blue eyes stared at them, unblinking. She did not smile. As she came forward, she repeated herself. “What kind of spell, Twilight?”
“It was supposed to be an oracle spell. The idea was to use the Map’s power to see the future. To anticipate friendship problems before they happened.”
Pinkie Pie put both front hooves on Twilight’s shoulders. She smiled, almost leering, and a thing giggle escaped her lips. “That’s it! That’s it!”
“What’s it?” said Applejack. “Because right now, you’re acting nuttier than a squirrel’s- -”
“That’s racist,” whispered Fluttershy.
“No! I’m right!” cried Pinkie. “I have to be! Because I’m certainly not left!” She giggled again, this time louder. She turned to Twilight. “That spell, it must have been what did this! What took us all here! The spell was meant to SEE the future, but it made us BE the future! It brought us here! Which means you can send us back! You can, can’t you Twilight? I know you can, you’re Twilight! You can do anything magicish! You’re the BEST magicishigan!”
“Pinkie!” cried Twilight, pushing her away. “Time spells are forbidden! Even if I remembered how, the effect of sending a pony back in time can be cataclysmic! The past CANNOT be changed!”
“But you’re not changing it!” squealed Pinkie in desperation. “You’re fixing us! Putting us back where we belong, to when we left- -”
“But you didn’t leave!” screamed Twilight. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you!” She looked around at all of them and took a step back. “None of you were even near that explosion! I woke up, and you were all there, around me and Trixie!”
“But that’s not- -”
“And you all lived out your lives! I watched, I was THERE! You all aged and grew old, and I didn’t! Pinkie, you had your sisters day and literally painted the town- -and Rarity- -red!”
“Red!” cried Rarity. “Oh my! How garish!”
“And you went on with your business! If I remember, there was a museum! My wedding dress was in it.”
“I did,” said Twilight, darkly. “And I have. Several hundred times. Stallions, mares, nonponies, even a synth when they still existed. But my first husband was HER grandcolt!” She pointed at Applejack, who immediately looked as though she had been struck by something other than a gesture
“M- -m- -me?!” she cried, “but I didn’t- -I never- -”
“You had nine children, and over thirty grandchildren! You were at my wedding!”
“Ooh! Ooh! What did I do?” cried Rainbow Dash, jumping with excitement. “I bet it was something awesome!”
“I don’t know,” said Twilight. “You’re harder to remember. But I do know that you lived well into your seventies. And that you were the first mare other than Luna to reach the moon. And the only one to do so without a spacecraft.”
“The moon! HA! I knew I was epic! What about Fluttershy?”
Twilight turned to the yellow Pegasus. “She…owned a lot of cats?”
Fluttershy gasped. “My dreams all came true,” she whispered.
“But- -but that’s not right!” shrieked Pinkie Pie. “I didn’t- -I don’t remember any of that! My sisters, my family, they can’t- -I didn’t- -I’m here! And they’re…they’re all gone, Twilight!” Pinkie Pie was laughing though tears of sadness. “Maud, Marble, Limestone, my parents- -The Cakes! What about Pumpkin and Pound? I didn’t see them grow up, and- -and- -I didn’t get a chance to have any foals or buy a house or get a husband or get remarried or- -”
“But you did! You all did! You all lived long, happy lives…” Twilight paused. “And I buried you all.”
Pinkie Pie looked crushed, but the others did not look happy either. The room had fallen silent and grown far more somber than any of them had expected.
“But…none of that happened,” said Applejack at last. “We don’t remember any of it.”
“Just because you can’t remember it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen,” said Twilight. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned today, that’s it. I don’t know how you are here, or why. But I can’t send you back, because there is nowhere to go. You’re already there. The oracle spell had absolutely no effect on any of you.”
“Then why is it the last thing we all remember?”
“I don’t know,” admitted Twilight. “I just don’t.”
“But that…that means we’re stuck here,” said Pinkie Pie. “Everypony is…gone.” She looked as though she were about to collapse. “EveryTHING is gone. We have nothing left. We’re…all alone.”
“You’re not alone,” said Rarity. She hugged Pinkie Pie, who immediately began to weep. “You still have us, darling.
The others converged on the pair, joining them as well. Though they all felt it to different degrees, they understood at least some of the gravity of what Twilight had told them. That everything was gone, and there was no way to fix it. That all they really had was each other, a sentiment that made Twilight feel deeply jealous.
She was the only one who did not join them. She stayed back, apart and away. She knew who they were, and that they had once been her friends, but now Twilight could not bring herself to touch them. tl5m?�4
The facility was massive, and had been dug deeply into the earth. Based on its structure, Twilight had concluded that it had at one time consisted of even, organized rooms that had been designed and built by some sentient force. Since then, though, it had grown outward seemingly at random, populating a number of tortuous tunnels of varying size. Whether those were carved by the ever-growing fungoid machinery or some other force remained unknown.
Although Rarity had stolen the body of Twilight’s morphiplasm suit, Twilight had retained the central processor and forward sensory array. Doubtless, Rarity would have no use for them anyway, despite her extreme and almost uncanny proficiency at reconfiguring the suit itself. This proved to be an advantage, as Silken had moved quite deep into the tunnels to set up her factory. Finding her without technological assistance would have been difficult, and searching would likely have indeed been dangerous.
The other ponies had elected to follow Twilight. She had no idea why, but their attitude toward her was surprisingly warm. It almost seemed as if they were afraid to be without her now that she was at least able to recognize them.
Applejack and Rainbow Dash approached Twilight and walked alongside her. Rarity remained behind them, occasionally shifting her clothing without a word and thinking that Twilight could not see. Fluttershy cowered in the rear, and Pinkie Pie lagged with her.
“Applejack,” said Twilight. “I’m concerned about Pinkie Pie. I don’t remember much, but I know she wasn’t like this.”
Applejack turned to Twilight. She looked a bit pale, and her expression looked curiously similar to Pinkie Pie’s. “She’s hurting. Bad.”
“But she’s always so happy!” said Rainbow Dash. “I mean, I keep expecting her to make a joke or jump around…” She paused. “Actually, I really need her to, about now.”
“Her whole family’s gone. Not just that, everything. Ponyville, her job, all our jobs. You can’t expect her to take something like that lightly.”
“You seem to be tolerating it,” said Twilight.
“I’m stronger than she is. Twilight, you know she’s sensitive. There’s nothing in this world she loves more than her sisters. And to be honest, I understand. I mean, I kind of knew I’d outlive Granny Smith, but…Big Macintosh? Applebloom? And my farm’s got to be gone now too, now that I think about it.” She let out a long sigh. “I’m barely holding up, Twilight. And to be honest, you could have handled telling us a little better.”
“I told you what you needed to know,” said Twilight. “But…now that I know who you are, yeah. I’m sorry.” She looked to Rainbow Dash. “I guess you’re feeling the same?”
“No. I just feel…I don’t know. Kind of weak. I guess that makes sense, I mean, I’ve been out of practice for like a thousand years…”
“Four hundred eighty five thousand,” said Twilight. “That’s almost half a million years.”
“See,” said Applejack, “there you go again.”
Twilight winced. “Sorry.”
“Oh. I was never good at math,” said Rainbow Dash. She shrugged. “Thousand, million, it doesn’t matter all that much. What matters is that I’m out of practice! Like, REALLY out of practice!”
“You’re not sad? About your family?”
Rainbow Dash sighed. “Well, yeah. Who wouldn’t be? I mean, my parents, Scoots…that makes me feel real bad. But you said they lived a good life, right? Did Scootaloo ever learn to fly?”
“I don’t know,” said Twilight. “I don’t remember that name.”
“Oh,” said Rainbow Dash, looking crestfallen. “Well, that’s in the past, right? I mean, now it’s just forward. And I’m behind! I’ve got a lot of records to break all over again.” She paused, thinking. “Actually, I bet I set a whole bunch of them back then…so…I’m going to have to beat all my own records! Yes! It’s going to be so AWESOME! First thing’s first, I’ve got to get to the moon!”
“Not right now,” said Twilight. “Right now, I need to get to Silken.”
“The robot? Why?”
“Because I still have a job to do here. Equestria is not a place ponies are supposed to be. Not anymore. I only came back because I had to.”
“And that wasn’t for us,” said Applejack.
“Applejack,” said Twilight. “If I had known you were here, of course I would have come.” That was a partial lie, of course. There would have been a great deal of consideration required to know if recovering ponies who had been dead for thousands of centuries was even a worthwhile endeavor. “But I came here for a different reason.”
“What?” asked Rainbow Dash.
Twilight tried to phrase fifty thousand years of history in a way that was as simple as possible. “There is a very deadly disease afflicting the Empire right now,” she said. “We call it the Mortality Virus. Despite our best efforts, we have been unable to cure it, and our population faces extinction within less than ten thousand years.”
“Extinction?” said Applejack. “But why? How? There has to be a cure- -”
“I came here to make the cure,” said Twilight, omitting the fact that it required salvaging genetic material from Cadence’s inert but immortal body. “This our last hope. If I can’t do it, then…”
“Well, that’s a dumb thing to say.”
“What?”
“Of course you can make it!” cried Rainbow Dash.
“Indeed, darling,” said Rarity, picking up her pace to join the three ponies in the front of the group. “Twilight, if there’s anypony who can make a cure for a disease, it’s you!” She paused. “Although, if I recall, Zecora was always a bit better at it…”
“Thanks. Sarcasm,” said Twilight. “But there hasn’t been a living zebra in…well, a long, long time. They tolerated the Exodus poorly.”
“I do have to ask, though,” said Rarity, her voice falling slightly. “If I’m going to be spending time amongst your new subjects, what is the threat to us?”
“To you?”
“Yeah,” said Applejack, seeming to catch what Rarity meant. “This virus thing. Can it get us sick?”
Twilight thought for a moment. “I don’t know,” she said. “So far, it can infect every pony except pure alicorns. So it would probably infect you too…”
“Oh my,” said Rarity, her expression and entire body posture changing suddenly. “Then that means…I can’t…”
“But I doubt it would lead to symptoms,” said Twilight. “The Mortality Virus progresses extremely slowly. It creates a degenerative illness that limits a pony’s lifespan to on average three thousand years. Since your lifespans are already so short, you probably would never feel it.”
“Three thousand years?!” cried Rainbow Dash.
“Golly! And that’s a ‘shortened’ lifespan! That’s like saying a short ton of apples is light!”
“It’s long to you,” said Twilight, “but tiny to them. Before the virus struck, ponies were universally ageless.”
“Ageless?” said Rarity, her attention picking up.
“Immortal to time. They didn’t age. Ever.”
“But three thousand years is still a really long time,” said Rainbow Dash. “I mean, do you know how many naps I could take in that?”
“It’s more than that,” said Twilight. “It’s hard to maintain a population when a mare can only produce one or two foals in a ten-thousand year period.”
“That long? Couldn’t they…you know…”
Twilight shook her head. “There was never evolutionary pressure. In fact, immortals reproducing quickly would be a disaster. It’s called fecundity. And it’s too low for our population to survive unless they’re immortal. We can’t replace ourselves.”
“Speaking of replacing yourselves,” said Rarity. “Have you…”
“Done my part to increase the birth rate? No. But not for lack of trying. Unfortunately, pure alicorns are barren. Yet another thing Celestia neglected to tell me…”
“But Cadence- -”
“Was a unique occurrence. And she only ever ovulated once.”
“Ah,” said Rarity, clearing her throat. “You mean Flurry Heart was an only child, then?”
“Yes. And for a time she was the only thing keeping our birth-rate tolerable.”
The other ponies looked extremely uncomfortable at this.
“Now, Twilight,” said Applejack, “I know for you, she’s got to be getting pretty old now…but she was just a little filly a day ago for us. And now you’re talking about her…being a mare…”
“Yeah, it’s super weird,” said Rainbow Dash.
“I was just planning her cutesinera,” said Rarity. “I wonder if I ever did get to it. The other me, I mean. Oh, it was going to be impressive! I suppose she’s still around? Flurry Heart, I mean?”
Twilight looked forward, not turning her head. “She was not a pure alicorn,” she said, flatly. “The Mortality Virus claimed her eight years ago.”
The other ponies stopped walking.
“Twilight, I’m sorry, we didn’t- -”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Twilight, still not looking back at them. “The past is the past. The dead are the dead. But you can see why I have what you could call a ‘vested interest’ in curing this disease.”
Silken was indeed deep in the facility, in a place where the unnamed and unnamable machines that grew on the walls had grown thick and wild as rope-like tentacles diversifying into their own webs of glowing mechanisms and luminescent pipes. There were less lights, but because of the type of machines in this area that did not matter; vision was still possible, even if the shadows had grown more strange and ominous.
When Twilight entered the room where Silken was waiting, she heard screams from behind her. She turned, confused as to the reaction of her compatriots. Then she looked to Silken. There was nothing unusual; she had assumed a full-interface mode, splitting her body in half and opening her face to reveal her gray, convoluted central processor and the support structure beneath. After a moment, though, it occurred to Twilight that seeing a pony-like form split open into an unrecognizable form was probably slightly unnerving to those unaccustomed to it.
“Silken,” she said. “Progress?”
The part of Silken that had been her head turned toward Twilight, illuminating her with the light of the blue hard-light cables that led from her central core to the machinery on the floor. The nanobots had indeed grown, and assembled a factory- -although not quite the one Twilight had designed. They were spread out over the black substance of the floor, which had grown upward into a complex form that integrated and interfaced with the silver-white fluid and metal arches that rose and stretched across the floor.
“What is this?” said Twilight.
“The fundamental structure of this environment reacted to the presence of the nanofactory,” said Silken. She paused, and then closed her body, carefully reassembling her shell over her central processor but keeping the interface cables, which she moved from her head to one of her auxiliary notochords. “It assembled a support structure.”
“That was not in my original schematic.”
“I altered the design to accommodate a substrate layer. This increases the efficiency of resource acquisition. I cannot interact with the black mold, but it appears to understand what the nanofactory is and what it requires to operate.”
“It doesn’t ‘understand’ anything. It’s mold.”
“Yes. But it reacted in a beneficial way.”
Twilight sighed and separated a large programming cube from her own processor. “Here,” she said. “These are the parts.”
“Building them will take a few moments,” said Silken. “Even with the advanced architecture, legacy technology still has an effect on our speed.”
“Once we get connected to the ship I’ll have them send down a modular factory,” said Twilight. “A real one.”
Silken installed the schematics into her interface program, and the nanobots reacted, rising up in their various wells and frames like a silvery liquid. Silken, while performing this task, turned to the other ponies. “You brought friends,” she said. “And gave Ms. Rarity your morphiplasm.”
“Well, I may have…borrowed it,” admitted Rarity. “Without asking.”
“Ah,” said Silken. “I’m sure you read the appropriate documentation and understand the spells necessary to denigrate it.”
“De…integrate?”
Silken nodded. “Removing that type of suit is almost impossible otherwise. After all, it is engrained directly to your nervous system.”
“Oh…”
“Don’t scare her, Silken,” muttered Twilight.
“It may be less painful than I anticipate,” said Silken, shrugging. “After all, you seem to show an almost unnatural proficiency at using it.”
“Oh. Well, thank you.”
“Your welcome. But I did not know what else I should have expected. The legends about you are true, it seems.”
Twilight froze.
“Legends?” said Rarity. “Oh my. Twilight, you didn’t tell me there were legends!”
“I don’t know how comfortable I feel about being a legend,” said Fluttershy, softly.
“That’s because there are no legends,” said Twilight, turning quickly to Silken.
“Not widely known ones, no,” said Silken. “But I reviewed my memory systems, and I began to develop a suspicious about the identity of these ponies.”
“That’s not possible! I didn’t even know who they were!”
Silken smiled, mostly because she was programmed to. “No. You had forgotten. But my mother would sometimes tell me stories, about the Elements of Harmony. They got distorted over time, I suppose, but I like to think that many of them were still partially accurate.”
“Your mother? How would she…” Twilight’s eyes widened. “Silken, what generation are you?”
“Mother?” said Rainbow Dash, stepping forward and taking control of the conversation. “Wait a minute, wait a minute! Since when do robots have mothers?”
“Everypony has a mother,” replied Pinkie Pie. “Except me, now, apparently.”
“I told you. I am not a robot. I am a remnus. A remnant. I was born, just as you were.”
“But you’re some kind of machine,” said Rainbow Dash, clearly not understanding.
Twilight and Silken looked at each other. “I don’t think they know,” said Twilight. She turned to her friends. “Remni are a byproduct of the Mortality Virus.”
“What are you saying, Twilight?” asked Applejack.
“All modern ponies have pseudo-genetic cybernetics architecture- -”
“Um, in Equestria, please,” said Fluttershy. “I mean, if you don’t mind.”
“Cybernetics. From birth,” said Silken. “Our bodies and brains are augmented by machinery. It grows with us, and gives us far greater intelligence and ability than we would have without it.”
“We…?”
“When a pony is infected with the Mortality Virus,” continued Twilight, “her brain begins to decay. The cybernetic architecture compensates, replacing damaged portions with artificial components to maintain function. Most ponies don’t even realize that it’s happening. That their brain is dying.”
“Twilight…”
“In one in one thousand cases,” continued Twilight, “the brain continues to function even after no organic portions are left. When that pony is…well, dead.”
“As was my case,” said Silken. “In life, my name was Cloudy Heart. I died of the Mortality Virus, and my central processor was placed in a manufactured body.”
“Then you’re…” Rainbow Dash gulped. “…undead?”
“Yes,” said Silken with a smile on her face. “I am devoid of volition, consciousness, or identity. We remni persist to serve the living. Usually.”
“Usually?”
Silken nodded. “The normal half-life for remni is twenty years. Few of us live longer than fifty.”
“Because the architecture decays,” said Twilight.
“No,” said Silken. “That is a misinterpretation.”
“But the scientific studies on the aspect- -”
“Oversimplify. Remni do not fail. They self-terminate.”
Rarity gasped. “Wh- -why?”
“Because we realize what we are.”
“And how old are you?” asked Pinkie Pie.
“One hundred and eighty seven,” said Silken. She looked at them and gave a far more sincere smile. “But please don’t be afraid of me. I was once a pony, but I’m entirely machine now. There is no reason to be frightened.”
“Well,” said Applejack, “I can’t speak for the others, but I don’t feel afraid. I just feel….”
“Weirded out?” said Rainbow Dash.
“Yeah. Really, really weirded out.”
“I am told that fades,” said Silken. “All ponies invariably come to accept us as part of life in the Tribunal Empire. After all, they kind of have to. We outnumber the living three to one.”
“Three to one?” said Rarity, trying to do the math in her head. “But that would mean…”
“That the situation is very dire,” said Twilight, finishing Rarity’s sentence for her. “So hopefully you realize just how dangerous this virus has been to us.”
There was a sudden sound of a bell. Fluttershy squealed and hid behind Pinkie Pie.
“What was that?” asked Twilight.
“The bell,” said Silken. “It means the parts are done.”
“I didn’t design a bell into the system.”
“No. I did. I added it because I thought it would be cute.”
“In all honesty, it was,” said Rarity. “Very quaint.”
“Thank you.” Silken turned to the machine as the silver fluid began to depart from the bed of parts that it had assembled. Silken took control of the remainder of the factory, lowering the various arms and effectors necessary to lift and assemble the components. She did so manually, but with mechanical precision and speed. Within seconds, she had assembled a communications hub. In accordance with Twilight’s design, it was roughly eight inches in diameter and circular.
Silken immediately began integrating it to the nanofactory and the fungoid substrate below it.
“I am interfacing the central hub to the holographic projectors around this room. This place is permeated with them.”
“Are we receiving a signal?”
“Working.” Silken paused, her visor appearing over her large eyes and dilated pupils. Then, after a moment, she looked up. “Yes,” she said. “Signal link established. Shall I connect us?”
“Immediately,” said Twilight.
“It will be done.”
The lights in the room flashed and flickered, and then dimmed. The tendrils of black material shifted and turned, opening and producing needle-like projectors. These linked to one another through thin, rainbow-colored beams. Twilight- -and the other ponies, although with much greater amazement and fear- -watched as the center of the room over the hub began to shift. A hologram formed, separating shapes and generating false colors. Within seconds, a slightly distorted holographic image of the captain appeared.
The room ceiling was high, allowing the captain to materialize a representation of herself at full scale. Twilight was surprised to see that she was represented partially in reasonably realistic color. It was not hard, though; to Twilight’s more evolutionarily primitive eyes, all modern ponies looked nearly white.
The other ponies gasped at the sight of a pony who might very well have been one or all of their descendants, and although the captain was nearly blind her eyes shifted toward them, and then back at Twilight.
“Goddess,” she said, speaking in her own language. Not only did she not know the ancient and forgotten language of Equestria, but her vocal organs were not capable of producing consonants. “What is this?”
“I’ve been delayed,” said Twilight, replying in the appropriate language. “The atmosphere had more interference than I anticipated. Your remnus did not have the necessary range.”
“That is not what I mean,” said the captain. The holographic representation of her thin, atrophic body moved through the air, showing no signs of the supports imbedded in the back of her skull. “What are those…things?”
“They are inconsequential,” said Twilight, for the second time that day telling a partial lie. “I’ve been delayed on my mission, but I need to make up time.”
The captain’s eyes narrowed, to the extent that they could. “It would seem to me that you have already solved it.”
“No,” said Twilight. The captain was not privy to the entire context of the mission; she was not aware of the necessity of retrieving Cadence’s genetic material. “I’m not done yet. I need support.”
“Do you think I don’t know what those are?” demanded the captain. Her eyes turned back to the ponies, and all of them save Rarity- -who stood wide-eyed and transfixed by the sight of the immensely tall and thin alicorn before her- - recoiled from her gaze. “I am familiar with paleontology. Two earth-ponies. Two Pegasi. One unicorn. All extinct species. At least, they were supposed to be. Do you mean to tell me the planet is populated?”
“No,” said Twilight. “Nor can it sustain any form of sentient life. All signs show that pony civilization collapsed shortly after the Exodus. I’m actually underground, in a ruin of it. There is nopony alive here.”
“Then what are those things standing behind you? Silken?”
“They are an anomaly,” said Silken. She spoke in the ancient language, but it was clear that she was multiplexing her signal; the one she was sending the captain was fully intelligible to her, while the sound she made on Equestria was understandable to those that required a language spoken with more than two vowels. “Their origin remains unclear.”
“But they are ponies.”
“Yes, according to my current scans. I have not yet performed an in-depth medical analysis; I have not been equipped for any sort of medical procedures or imaging.”
“Wait,” said Twilight. “What?”
“Silken,” said Applejack. “We can’t understand what they’re saying!”
The captain winced. “Was that speech? It sounded horrible. But it does confirm what I suspected.”
“It confirms an anomaly, yes,” said Twilight, still in the proper language. “But one that is trivial- -”
“It is not an anomaly, Goddess.”
Twilight frowned. “You should be a little more careful with your tone.”
“Not when I’m speaking the truth. You’ve completed your mission. You can now return to the ship.”
“I told you, I haven’t- -”
“Look right there!” cried the captain, her voice causing even Twilight to jump. “We came here for a cure to the Mortality Virus. I thought it would take you years, even centuries to find it- -but it is right there! I don’t know what you were intending to find here, but as I see it, they are the solution.”
“Stop interrupting me. They are NOT what I came here to find.”
The captain’s eyes narrowed. “Then you had something particular in mind.”
“I may have.”
“So the mission was never about curing the plague, was it?”
“No. It was. That’s what it was always for. What I always wanted.”
“Well then somepony is lying to me, or not giving me the information I need to do my job!” One of her hooves pointed toward the other ponies. In the real world, she was not capable of moving them any more than a few centimeters at most, but as a hologram her choice of motions was her own. “The Virus makes us mortal. But they are ALREADY mortal.”
“And they will die!” cried Twilight, perhaps too loudly. “It won’t even take very long! Thirty, forty, a hundred years? A trivial amount of time! Yes, the Mortality Virus won’t affect them, but what’s the point? They’re doomed anyway!”
“Because they can do something we cannot.”
“Which is what?”
“Then can breed.”
“BREED?!” cried Twilight, which came out as an extended shriek of an inflected “i” sound. This caused the others to jump in surprise, as if they too knew what the captain was implying. “You- -you can’t be serious!”
“I don’t mean by coercion,” growled the captain. “Look at them. They’re small, colorful, soft. Adorable. Are they mares or stallions?”
“Mares, but- -”
“Mares like that would have their pick of every stallion in the Empire. Or pick of mares, if they desire.”
“But they can’t- -the genetic divergence, it wouldn’t- -you couldn’t- -”
“Silken?”
This time, Silken only spoke in the modern language. “Technically, yes,” she said. “Despite the variance in physiology, the chromosome number is still equal. Hybridization would be possible.”
“How did you know the chromosome number if you didn’t- -never mind! Captain! You’re being ridiculous! Even if we did that, then what? Even if each and every one of them had ten children- -if you can even get that many out of Fluttershy- -that would only be fifty!”
“Goddess,” said the captain, slowly. “I do not know my exact age. The records were destroyed when my megastructure went dark. But I know that I am well over four thousand years old. At the far edge of my life. I have few friends remaining from my youth. Most departed us without bearing children, and not from lack of trying. Those that did had one. None bore two.”
“But that has nothing to do with curing the Mortality Virus!”
“In my lifespan,” continued the captain, both ignoring Twilight and arguing with her directly, “how many ponies could those fifty have made?”
“Given unlimited resources and producing ten children every twenty years, five times ten to the two hundred,” said Silken.
“Silken, don’t be ridiculous,” said Twilight. “That’s not how a birth rate works, it would be- -wait, why am I debating this? That doesn’t do anything for the Virus! We’d still all be infected! The entire population would still be mortal!”
“And is that a bad thing?” asked the captain.
“YES!” screamed Twilight, this time reverting to the ancient language and forcing Silken to translate. “That’s why I came out her to this alicorn-forsaken rock in the first place!”
“That was NOT our mission!” exclaimed the captain. Her raised voice sounded almost musical, not panicked like Twilight’s did. “Our mission was to save ponykind! So what if we’re mortal? So what if we have to die? I don’t care. I’ve come to accept that fact.”
“I haven’t.”
The captain glared at her. “And decisions on the nature of mortality are not yours to make. You are the last pony who can comment on what it means to live AND die.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that we were never meant to live forever. Silken?”
Silken shook her head. “I am already dead,” she said. “And it…it did not feel like anything. It is just like living. But I cannot reach a conclusion either way. I am sorry.”
“You have no reason to apologize.” The captain turned to Twilight. “I am sending a rendezvous point to Silken Dream near your position. We will send you a landing vehicle. Those ponies, they cannot survive on that planet. You know that. I will take them, and we will leave with them. You can return with us and watch as your Empire returns to glory. Or you can stay on that empty planet, trying to find whatever pointless thing you refuse to inform me about.”
Twilight looked up at her, dumbfounded at how a pony would dare speak to her like that. She was about to respond- -or retort, or protest, or maybe even scream- -when a different voice identical to her own spoke.
“Warning,” said the dead-eyed hologram that had appeared on the side of the room. “Heuristic analysis has indicated that this channel is parsed. Do you wish to continue transmitting?”
“Parsed?” said Twilight, looking at the hologram version of herself. The captain looked at it too, and her eyes momentarily widened with emotion. Not surprise at the presence of hologram, exactly. To Twilight, it looked more like anger. “What do you mean parsed?”
“I think it means that somepony else is listening to the signal,” said Silken.
Twilight turned sharply to the captain.
“It must be Inky Nebula’s scanning equipment falling out of sync with the ship’s system,” said the captain. “A clerical error, but one that needs to be addressed quickly if we are to continue to communicate. I need to go. Take them to the rendezvous point. If you value them and us at all, let me take them. If you don’t, none of us will survive.”
And with that, her hologram flickered and vanished. The transmission had ended.
Inky Nebula paused, her large eyes tracing the walls that surrounded her. She saw intricate stone, worked into the shape of blocks and assembled into flat walls and high arches that were hung with eternally blooming lavender and lit by vibrant, glowing crystals. The breath in her one lung stopped for a moment- -or appeared to stop; in this realm, her body was a projection of her mind and its functions no more than a pleasant dream- -as she admired her surroundings.
The turquoise eye of a tall, all-black mare beside her swiveled. It was the only part of her that was readily distinguishable in the low light. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” said Nebula. “I had just forgotten how beautiful this place was…”
Indeed, it was. To Twilight Sparkle’s jaded, ancient mind, this environment was uninteresting and even mundane; to Inky Nebula, though, it was a place of eternal wonder and awe. Her bloodline had passed hundreds upon hundreds of generations since any of them had seen a true stone building like the one that Luna’s castle had been modeled after. Nebula herself had never even touched real stone before, although she had seen it numerous times through the advanced scanner arrays implanted throughout her brain and body. All those times had been from a great distance, though, and never had that stone been carved into something so beautiful as this castle.
The two continued walking: the all-black mare, a priestess of the Cult of Luna, and Inky Nebula, her normally pale body now represented in vibrant indigo and deep blue. In the same way that the Black Priestesses were not actually- -usually- -black in the Waking World, Inky Nebula had elected to change her color to the one that she herself perceived, or wished that she could have been.
“Thank you for doing this,” she said, nervously.
“You do not need to thank us,” said the priestess. “You are always welcome in this place. Your mother and her mother before her showed immeasurable dedication to the Goddess of the Night, and performed great acts in her name. Your own dedication to the secular aspect of the Royal Navy is also admirable.”
“I did not know you were watching my career.”
“We are always watching our children, Inkamena. Although if we may, we would like to ask you to at least consider a transfer to the Luna Exploration Fleet.”
Nebula sighed. “I have considered it,” she said. “And I consider it every day, and every night. I just don’t know if I can tolerate deep space that well. All that time without returning to port, to the Empire…”
“If your devotion to the Goddess is strong, the madness of the void will not creep readily into your mind. The Goddess can wander the eternal aether as no mortal pony can, but it is our duty to represent her in the physical world. However, the choice is yours, and you are yet young.”
“I’m not that young,” said Inky Nebula. That, of course, was a lie. She had barely passed her eightieth birthday.
The priestess stopped suddenly. The pair of alicorns was standing beside a tall and very simple metal door. “This is the one that was requested of us,” said the priestess. She gestured toward the door with a long, thin leg. “You may enter. She is waiting for you.”
Inky Nebula nodded as the priestess departed, her body fading to black mist as she moved through the infinite hallways that made up the Dream World. Nebula then composed herself, ensuring that her self-image was correct and appropriate. Then she opened the door and stepped inside.
The room on the other side was as simple as the door, although the architecture was distinctly anachronistic, resembling a style and design that was now considered quaint or even stodgy despite its overall industrial and Spartan appearance.
The shape of the room hardly mattered, though, when Inky Nebula saw the pony sitting in the center of the room. The chair on which she sat swiveled, and Nebula found herself staring into the vast and beautiful eyes of a pure-white mare with long, elegant silver hair.
“C- -captain!” sputtered Nebula.
“Inky,” said the captain, her expression not changing and her voice disappointingly businesslike. She then stood up and crossed the floor with a level of grace that was rare in ponies of the most recent generation, a product of having been in absolute control of a series of morphiplasm vessels for several millennia. “Your color is…impressive.”
“I- -of course, I just- -” Nebula felt her face growing hot. The captain noticed that she was quite clearly blushing.
“But your control of your form is a bit loose.” She sighed. “Or perhaps better integrated? I cannot pretend to know the ways of the Lunar Priestesses, or what they consider ‘good’ and ‘bad’ form.”
Inky Nebula cleared her throat. “My apologies, captain. It will not happen again. Your present form just…it surprised me.”
“It shouldn’t. There was a time when I was both young and beautiful. This is the body I had when I was not terribly much older than you are now.”
“You’re still beautiful, captain. Even in the Waking World.”
The captain’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Nebula realized that she had misspoken. “Watch your words very carefully,” said the captain. “Remember, I am your commanding officer. And I do not tolerate unprofessional behavior, even if the compliment is as appreciated as it is false.”
“My apologies,” said Nebula, bowing. “It will not happen again. Please forgive me, this situation is…unorthodox, to say the least. Meeting like this is not at all standard procedure.”
“No. But it is my prerogative to become creative when need allows for it.”
“Need?” Inky Nebula raised her head. “Captain, what do you mean by that?”
“My private transmission to Twilight Sparkle,” said the captain. “It was parsed.”
Nebula’s eyes widened slightly. “It was not an anomaly on my side. I was running surveys on the moon at the time, my sensors were not directed at the planet- -”
“I know that,” said the captain. “I knew the instant I was informed that it was not you.”
“Then who?”
“I think you know who.”
Nebula inhaled sharply. “You don’t mean…”
“I do. Which also explains why we are meeting here, in the Dream World. If we can be sure of everything, it is that Light Gloom and his sycophants are listening constantly to everything. They’re probably even arrogant enough to believe we don’t know.”
“But the Dream World is secure,” said Inky Nebula. “It responds to the will of the Night Goddess alone. It would not be possible to hear us without her permission.”
“Exactly. Which is why I asked you here.”
“Why me specifically? Should not Golden Star and Heliotrope be here?”
“I need them to protect my body while I am unconscious, and to run the ship. I asked for you specifically, because I need you.”
Inky Nebula started to blush again. “Me?”
“I need you to project a dampening field with a rotating modulation whenever we are in the same room in the real world. It won’t save our transmissions, but I think it will keep them out of our conversations.”
“And it will let them know that we know.”
“It will. But I don’t care. They’re going to know soon enough.” The captain paused and sighed. “I think the situation is about to get bad, Inky. It’s going to get bad real fast.”
“Captain?”
“Nopony is letting me in on anything!” cried the captain suddenly as she angrily overturned her chair, sending it skittering across the plated floor. “Twilight, the Cult, they’re both up to something! And I would bet my tail and ears that neither one has any idea what the other is trying to do. Or at least Twilight doesn’t.”
“Captain, I’m afraid I just don’t understand.”
“Twilight has solved the problem. I don’t know how. I don’t care how. But she did. She somehow discovered five pure ponies. From the Old Races.”
Inky Nebula gasped. “The Old Races? But that- -”
“Is impossible. I know. And it is perfect. I have no idea if that is what the Cult wanted, but I’m making an executive decision on this. We need to rescue those ponies. Get them off that rock before something terrible happens. At this point, they are the only hope for the Empire.”
“Then why not inform Light Gloom about this? His goal is no doubt the same as ours, to cure the Mortality Virus.”
“I think I’m starting to doubt that. I’ve never trusted wizards, especially ones with the audacity to cover themselves in clothing in my presence. And he knows. He was the one parsing my transmission.”
“Do you have proof of that?”
“I don’t need proof. I already know.”
“Then what is your proposed course of action?”
The captain turned and stepped toward Inky Nebula. “That depends,” she said as she floated gracefully across the floor.
“Depends on what?”
“I need to know your if you want to get involved with this. I’ll ask the others too. I can’t ask them to join me on this. I can order them, but I need to know if I can trust those around me.”
Nebula stood straight. “Captain,” she said. “I understand that our relationship is meant to be professional. But if I may speak candidly, in our service together I have come to see you as something like a second mother.”
“If you think any of my behavior toward you has been remotely motherly, you must have had a horrible childhood.”
“Regardless, my loyalty to you is exceeded only by my loyalty to the Goddess of the Void. I will not betray you, and I will comply with your decisions and will.”
The captain stared at her for a moment, as if trying to decide if she was being honest. Then she nodded slowly. “Thank you,” she said with great sincerity. “I’m glad.”
“What are your orders?”
“We collect the ponies, and then we cut the Cult loose.”
“That goes directly against Celestia’s orders.”
“It does. You can still go back- -”
“No. Celestia’s will is similar to that of her Sister’s. We are to protect the Tribunal Empire at all costs, and if these five ponies are key to that, both Celestia and Luna must surely support your decisions. Even if they are not doing so literally.” She paused. “But the Cult will not be pleased.”
“I know. They can take back their device and their ridiculous mages, and they can stay in orbit with their Goddess.”
“Captain? I don’t understand. Will not the Goddess of Magic be returning with us?”
“Most likely, Twilight Sparkle is going to elect to stay on the planet.”
“But why?”
“For her own reasons. She and I disagreed on the approach for curing the Virus. And I’m starting to doubt that it was ever her goal.”
“You argued with the goddess?” Inky Nebula felt a sudden surge of admiration, and of fear.
“I’m not separated from Flurry Heart by that many generations. Stories have been passed down in my family from her, from the Exodus. There are dark things buried on that planet.”
“And you think the Goddess is searching for those?”
“I can’t know that for sure. But let her search. By the time she has returned, we will already started the Tribunal on the path to recovery. And those five ponies are they key.”
As they continued to speak, they did not see the pony standing beside them. They could not see her, and remained unaware that she was listening to every word. A large alicorn mare, her body clad in metal and robes as it was in life, her presence out of phase and completely undetectable. She was the mare who had stood beside Light Gloom, and the one who knew his plans intimately.
To her left, the atmosphere of the Dream World distorted as Luna emerged from it. She, like the mare in the Cultist uniform, kept herself out of phase. She stood for a moment, watching as her own disciple Inkamena Vortex Nebula spoke with a white alicorn who had long-since given up any hint of identity when her brain had been merged with a starship’s mainframe.
After a few minutes, Luna turned to the metal-clad mare. It annoyed her that this alicorn was taller than her. “Is this enough?”
“Yes,” said the mare.
“I would like to say that what you have asked me to do is positively repugnant,” said Luna, disgusted.
“And yet you allowed it. As you should have.”
“Should I? I have betrayed the trust of one of my own disciples.”
“It will not matter. In a few thousand years, she will be long gone. This entire situation will be moot. And that is barely a blink in time to you.”
“Indeed,” said Luna, darkly. “But understand, I will only allow this once, and only for the sake of the success of the mission. As unpleasant as this is, the mission must be completed. For the sake of all our futures.”
“Of course,” said the mare. “The Will of the Goddess must be executed. There is no alternative. There never has been, has there?”
With that, she turned and stepped away. As she did, she faded, pulling herself back into the Waking World. Luna remained- -she had to; there was nothing left for her in that other world apart from a broken body and an empire in the last stages of terminal decay- -and listened to the conversation for a bit longer. Then she let out a long sigh, and turned herself.
“The Will of the Goddess indeed,” she said to herself as she moved to a different part of her own mind, leaving Inky Nebula and the captain alone to believe for a little longer that they had any hope of ever succeeding in their plans.
Silken walked with mechanical grace as she led the small, adorable, soft little ponies back to the area where they had taken up temporary residence. It was primarily so they could collect themselves and rest if they had to. They seemed tired, and Silken assumed that unlike herself or Twilight they needed to sleep or do something similar periodically. Her use of the transmission hub to link to Inky Nebula’s scanners had provided a much more detailed map of the facility they were currently in, and although the lower levels were still obscured the upper ones had become clear. An exit that did not require half an hour of vertical flight had been found, but the trek would still be long.
Of the group, Rarity seemed to be the most excited. Eventually, her enthusiasm boiled to the surface and she could no longer contain herself.
“Silken, I have to know,” she said, falling to the back of the group where Silken was walking with a series of small, silent steps to keep pace. “She…that pony. Was her appearance unique? That is, do…do all ponies look like that?”
Silken’s eyes rotated toward Rarity. “She is somewhat thinner than most ponies, but yes. All ponies closely resemble her. I have been created in their image. Or, more precisely, in the image of what I once was.”
“She was so very tall,” said Fluttershy. “That must be so intimidating.”
“Darling, not at all! The things I would have done to have models THAT tall and thin, the things I could have done with them!” She blushed slightly and cleared her throat. “As in, the clothing I could have constructed on frames like that. And now that’s the NORMAL body type? Why, it’s almost a dream come true! And the stallions?”
“They are not superficially different from the mares,” said Silken. “Or biologically different, in some cases.”
Rarity stared, confused. “Meaning?”
“The majority of stallions have a pair of nonfunctional ovaries in addition to…well, the rest.”
“Oh my. I don’t know if I needed to know that.”
“Did any of ya’ll notice that she was an alicorn?” said Applejack, turning back to the others and sounding slightly frustrated.
“I did,” said Rainbow Dash, her voice sounding a bit lower than normal.
“So did I,” said Fluttershy.
“All modern ponies are alicorns,” said Silken. “The phenotype confers a fitness benefit to those living in space.”
“Just like that old book…” said Rainbow Dash. All the other ponies looked at her dubiously. “What? I read things other than Daring Do! Or is that illegal now?”
“Daring Do?” asked Silken, somewhat surprised.
“Yeah, it’s a great series. Or was. About this really awesome adventurer pony- -”
“I know what it is,” said Silken. “I’m just surprised you do. You mean it still existed in your time?”
“Wait…you read Daring Do? But, how, if…”
“Not anymore, of course,” said Silken. “But when I was alive, I read at least the first seven hundred thousand volumes. Unfortunately, my lifetime was not long enough to read them all.”
“Seven…hundred…thousand,” squeaked Rainbow Dash.
“Well, of course. It is one of the few examples of ancient literature to have survived the Exodus. While all of the original legends were lost, it has been in almost continuous production for a significant amount of time. If Daring Do were a real pony, she would be many times older than even Twilight Sparkle.”
“But she is a real- -” Rainbow Dash clapped her hooves over her mouth. “I mean…um…I have a lot of reading to do.”
“So,” said Pinkie Pie, her tone sharp as she emerged from her uncharacteristic silence. “We have Daring Do. We’re not going to be able to reach a single doorknob, but oh, at least we have something to READ.”
“Pinkie,” said Rarity. “That wasn’t called for.”
“Wasn’t called for? You realize that you’re now the last living unicorn, right? That there aren’t even ponies that look like PONIES left in the world?”
There was a look of distant realization on Rarity’s face, one that she immediately tried to suppress. “A pony’s race doesn’t matter. I can make a dress for an alicorn as easily as I can for any other pony.”
“What were they even talking about?” demanded Pinkie as she glared upward at Silken. “I can’t even understand the language! For all I know, you were trying to decide what flavor of cupcakes you think we’ll be!”
“Oh my,” said Fluttershy. “I don’t want to be a cupcake.”
“I was kind of wondering that too,” said Applejack. “Not the cupcake part, I mean, that’s ridiculous.”
“That pony was the captain of our ship, the Prodijila. She was expressing her enthusiasm at having you join our society.”
“Join your society? But that means- -”
“It means you really are going to take us with you!” squealed Rarity. She stamped her marshmallowlike feet in excitement. “Oh! It’s going to be wonderful!”
“And if I don’t want to leave this planet?” said Pinkie.
“Pinkie- -”
“Equestria is my home! It’s always been my home! My sisters are buried out there, somewhere, on this planet! Do you really think there’s anything out there for us? Everything is gone…”
“I’m not sure I want to go either,” admitted Fluttershy meekly. “Space travel sounds…harsh. And jarring. And arduous. And, well, scary.”
“It can be,” said Silken. “But not usually.” She leaned forward. “And I’m afraid your choices are somewhat limited.”
“You’re not going to force us if we don’t want to,” said Rainbow Dash. “Although I’m not saying I don’t want to. I’m kind of psyched, actually. I get to go to space! And to race one of those big alicorns!”
“They cannot race. They are capable of neither running nor flight.”
“Wait, but then- -”
“And that is not a pressing concern,” said Silken, becoming more serious. “It is not immediately apparent, but this planet is not habitable. There are no settlements on the surface. No food. No liquid water. No arable land. Equestria is dead. You cannot stay here. Not if you wish to survive.”
They were all silent. From the mood of the room, Silken realized that she had been too harsh.
“I grew up in that world,” she said. “It may seem strange at first, but although they may look strange, those ponies are still ponies. They will help you in any way you can, give you anything you might need. Many of them would be honored to be your friends.”
“Twilight didn’t seem to agree,” said Applejack. “I understood what they were saying about as well as I understand Rarity’s obsession with sequins- -”
“They are shiny and elegant!” cried Rarity defensively.
“And they fall off and get in your food! But that’s not my point!” Applejack looked back to Silken, almost having to crane her neck to look far enough up to meet her large artificial eyes. “I know a heated argument when I see one. And that was one.”
Silken paused, choosing her words carefully. “The Goddess was discussing an element of the mission parameters.”
Applejack looked suspiciously at Silken. “You know,” she said after a long moment. “It’s the darndest thing. I can’t tell if you’re lying or not.”
“Probably because she’s a machine,” said Fluttershy. “But we shouldn’t be suspicious like that!” She took a stand, even if it was a small one. “Silken has been very helpful so far. And while I was initially absolutely terrified of her, well, I’m not now. If we want to be friends, we can at least offer a little trust.”
“Fluttershy, you do realize she’s undead, right?” said Rainbow Dash. “Like, some sort of weird techno-zombie.”
Fluttershy lowered her eyebrows. “Don’t ruin this for me, Dash.”
“Fine, fine…”
“I have never heard remni described that way,” said Silken. “Although it is technically true. And less insulting than being called a robot. And I’m not lying. Twilight was debating a different project. She only expressed surprise when the captain suggested that ponies like you would be extremely popular with Empire stallions.”
“Stallions?” Rarity’s ears pricked.
“Stallions with ovaries,” said Pinkie, darkly.
“But stallions non the less! That was, admittedly, something I was concerned about, especially if they are all so tall and princely…”
“You do not need to worry. You all are so cute and huggable, it will not be a problem. I would even hug you if it were not a breach of professionalism.”
“I like hugs,” said Fluttershy.
Silken’s already massive eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
“Sure,” said Fluttershy. She leaned on her haunches and spread her front legs. “Huggies make everything better! And I could really use one right- -”
She squeaked loudly as Silken hugged her tightly. Not too tightly, of course; Silken’s robotic body could easy have crushed her if she was not careful. The hug was still quite vigorous, though.
“I was right!” she cried. “So soft!”
“Silken.” The coldness of the voice caused every pony- -and the one remnus- -to turn toward the dark edge of the hall. Twilight was standing there, watching. “Put down Fluttershy. I need to talk to you. In private.”
Silken did as she was ordered. “You know the way to where you need to go, right?”
“I do,” said Fluttershy.
“Good. Also, here.” She passed a large pile of square, stick-like items to the Pegasus. “I used the nanofactory to generate food. I did not know what ponies eat, so I made them out of starch and nitrogen salts.”
“Oh…well…thank you?”
Silken smiled, happy that Fluttershy liked them. She then sent the group on their way, and turned to join Twilight.
“Yes, Goddess?”
Twilight did not respond initially. Then she glared upward at Silken. “You’re first generation.”
Silken paused. “Yes,” she said, telling the truth. “At least to the extent that I was in life.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?”
“You did not ask.”
“My own hairless flank!” swore Twilight. “Don’t give me that! You’re first generation, you should have known that is something I would want to know!”
“Are you assuming that my status in life gives me some advantage in the afterlife?”
“Doesn’t it? If I knew what you were- -”
“I am a remnus. Your assumption is based on a misconception. I am no different from any other of my kind. My life has no effect on me now. In death, we are all equal. All nothing more than machines.”
Twilight continued to glare. “I’m your great aunt.”
“You were, once. But you were great aunt to my one hundred seventy two thousand three hundred and forty six half-siblings as well. Including Sarkon Vortrenth.”
“You must have been one of the last.”
“I was. I only had two younger siblings. Neither are alive now. There are currently no living children of Flurry Heart, and as far as I am aware I am the only one who became a remnus in recent history. Of course, all of this is purely anecdotal.”
“You still should have told me.”
“You are scolding a machine. Is that what you wanted to speak to me about?”
“No. I need to know where you stand on this.”
“On what, Goddess?”
“You know what. I need to know whose side you are on.”
“There are no sides. We are all working for the good of the Empire.”
Twilight groaned angrily. “Do you have to be so infuriating? My side, or hers? The captain, I mean. Are you going to side with her goal, or with mine?”
By this time, Twilight had reverted to normal language. Even if her friends were listening, there was no way they would be able to understand her.
“Goddess,” said Silken. “I do not see the two goals as mutually exclusive. I was assigned to protect you. And I will. But I cannot guarantee how long I will last. My psychological state is uniquely stable, but I cannot guarantee that it will remain that way. It is highly likely that there will come a point where I cease to function. I will stay here to help you continue your mission, but there is a chance that if you stay you will end up alone.”
“So you are on her side, then.”
“I just promised to stay by your side.”
“So what? You want to let her take them!”
“Goddess,” said Silken, “is there another option? They cannot survive on this planet. You know that. They need to be evacuated.” She paused. “Unless for some reason you do not want them to leave.”
Twilight opened her mouth in retort, but closed it when she realized that Silken had pointed out something that even she was not aware of. Logically, there was no reason to keep them here. She knew that.
“We need to take them to the surface,” said Silken. “I know a path. We will give them to the captain, and let them go and live their lives. You will stay here, if that is what you choose.”
“But I don’t know how long it will take. I might not return for decades. Centuries, even. They won’t be there when I get back.”
“No. Probably not.” Silken smiled. She clearly did not understand the pain that her words were causing to Twilight. “Will you still stay?”
“I have to,” said Twilight. “There is no alternative.” She walked past Silken. “Even if that means I will never see any of them ever again.”
The only one among them who knew the path out was Silken, so she took the front of the group, leading the ponies onward and lighting the way with the glow from within her own body. Twilight, meanwhile, remained at the far end of the group, trailing behind the other ponies. She did not want to walk beside them, and although they tried to slow to match her pace none of them were willing to stray too far from Silken’s light and into the shadows where Twilight walked.
From this vantage, Twilight was able to watch her surrounding change. The machinery that lined the walls of the deepest caves faded into narrow tendrils and eventually vanished entirely, leaving nothing but cold stone corridors. To Twilight, this meant that the machine-growth was not digging its own environment but rather infesting preexisting caves. The caves themselves, though, were more of a mystery; they could very well have been natural phenomena, carved by the flow of water to caverns even deeper than where they currently stood, or perhaps they were the remnants of some ancient mine built at an incredible depth.
Neither of those options made Twilight especially nervous. What did was the reappearance of the holes. The other ponies did not seem to notice them, although it was obvious that Silken did. They were perfectly round, intersecting the main cave at various angles and passing onward in every direction into darkness. Although they were perfectly round like those before, they showed signs of erosion at their edges. Water dripped from a few. They were incredibly old.
The others turned a corner, and Twilight found herself left alone in darkness. She did not mind; she had spent the majority of her life in an environment devoid of natural light. She lit the tip of her horn, pleased with how easy it was to do. Although her abilities were still limited, she was healing rapidly.
Then, suddenly, she paused. She slowly turned her head, her pink-violet light barely lighting the dark depths behind her. That was where she had come from, and where THEY had come from- -a place that had never seen natural light, and that had remained in darkness deep in the earth for Celestia knew how long. That alone was a disturbing idea. What made it worse was that Twilight could have sworn she heard a low, long moan from somewhere deep below in that very darkness.
She waited, and she did indeed hear it. It sounded almost impossibly distant and low, sometimes punctuated with the sound of falling rocks. They were not alone. They probably never had been.
In response to this, Twilight hurried forward. She turned the corner that her friends had passed quickly, and nearly screamed when she almost bumped into Fluttershy. Fluttershy, who was flying, turned around to reveal that she was not alone. In her front legs, she was holding one of the pointy-limbed bipedal invertebrates. It did not seem to be struggling, and as Twilight looked she saw more of them, all warbling ominously and retreating from her light.
“Fluttershy!” cried Twilight. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
“I wasn’t sneaking.”
“And what in the name of ME is that thing? Put it down, you don’t know where it’s been!”
“But aren’t they just so adorable?” said Fluttershy, squeezing the creature. Its arms waved either in displeasure, excitement, or in some kind of extremely repugnant involuntary spasm. “And I know where he’s been, he lives in a cave south of here with his little family!”
“And how do you know that?”
“Well, he told me, of course.”
“It told you?”
Fluttershy gasped. “Twilight! He! He’s a boy…whatever he is. And he’s an animal, isn’t he? Of course I understand what he told me!” She set the creature down and produced one of the food-bricks that Silken had produced. She set it on the ground, and the bipeds immediately began to attack it, tearing it to pieces by stabbing it repeatedly with their pointed arms. Then, much to Twilight’s horror, their chests opened up to reveal holes with lethally sharp mandibles, which they proceeded to shovel the food into.
“Aww,” said Fluttershy. “You’re hungry, aren’t you?” She smiled at Twilight. “There’s not too much food down here, but they’re awefully frugal. This is a big feast for them.” The creature she had been holding looked up at her and let out a long, sad warble. Fluttershy laughed. “Oh, no!” she laughed, “Twilight is our friend, not food! And I bet she would taste terrible anyway!”
The biped shrugged, and then the group of them picked up what food they could carry and sprinted off into the darkness.
“Don’t forget to share it with your friends!” called Fluttershy. She then turned back to Twilight, and her smile had faded slightly. “It’s a hard life for them, I think,” she said. “There’s been nopony here to take care of the animals for a long, long time. They’ve had to learn to make do all on their own.”
“And you weren’t afraid of those things?”
Fluttershy looked confused. “No. Of course not. Why would I be?”
“Because…nevermind.”
The pair of them began walking toward where the group had gone. They quickly came to a long uphill hallway, and the rest of their friends and Silken could be seen far ahead. Rarity stood near the front with Silken, bombarding her with every sort of question possible about what life was like in the Tribunal Empire: the types of foods ponies ate, where the fanciest restaurants were, whether there were still Galas and what ponies did there, who was who in society, and many, many more. Silken, being a machine, answered dutifully. The others followed behind her, with Applejack trying- -and failing- -to engage Pinkie Pie in conversation, and Rainbow Dash breathing uncharacteristically hard and falling behind slightly.
“Rarity seems to be taking this all very well,” said Twilight after a moment.
Fluttershy looked toward the front of the group and considered it for a moment. “No,” she said, after a long time. “She’s not.”
“Of course she is,” said Twilight, slightly annoyed by Fluttershy’s tone. “Look how excited she is!”
“She is excited,” said Fluttershy. “But that doesn’t mean she’s taking this well at all. She’s focusing on the future so she doesn’t have to think about the past. But she’ll remember eventually. And it will be so very sad.” She pointed. “It’s the opposite for poor Pinkie. I’m really worried about her.”
“So am I,” said Twilight. “But I have no idea what to do.”
“Talk to her.”
“About what?”
“I think you already know. You’re not that much different from her. And I’m worried about you too.”
“There is nothing to worry about. Not with me, anyway.”
“If you say so.”
Twilight was growing increasingly irate. “And what do you know? You don’t seem to care much at all!”
Fluttershy glared at Twilight with such force that her gaze immediately silenced Twilight’s protest. This only lasted for a moment, though, and softened.
“That’s not true,” she said. “I feel the same things they do. I had parents. And a brother. And lots of animals I loved, and pony friends. And I’ll never see any of them again. But I can deal with it a little better. I think it’s because I’m a little bit like you.”
“You have no idea what it feels like to be me.”
“No. I don’t know if anypony does. You’ve been alive so long…but I know what that feels like. Do you remember Gerald?”
“I barely remember you.”
“He was a mouse. I took him and his family in when he broke his leg and couldn’t feed his wife and mouslets. Do you know how long Gerald lived after that?”
“Forgive me if I’m not very knowledgeable about mouse biology. We don’t have them anymore.”
“Seven months. That’s it. Mice live at most two years. I was there with him as an old mouse when it happened, and when it happened to his children, and his children’s children. Turtles, parrots and phoenixes are exceptions, but very few animals live longer than a pony.”
Twilight stopped walking. “So…all those animals…”
Fluttershy nodded. “Each and every one was my friend. And I outlived them all, even when I was still living in Ponyville.”
“But…” Twilight understood what she meant. It was not the same, not even close- -but it was close enough. “But how did you deal with it?”
“Because I remembered their lives, and all the good memories we shared together. Death is a sad thing, but it’s part of life too. Applejack knows that. But I don’t think Pinkie Pie does.”
“I’d rather not remember,” said Twilight. “It’s easier just to forget.”
Fluttershy started walking forward again. “Don’t say that, Twilight. Remember, you got to make more memories than we ever did. You said I lived a long time?”
“You went well into your eighties, I think.”
“Then I don’t remember most of my own life. And that’s the saddest part. Did I have lots of friends? Did the animals- -”
“They loved you,” said Twilight. Her eyes were watering beneath her mask. “The animals and your friends.”
“Good,” said Fluttershy, smiling weakly. “I’m glad. But I really wish I could remember. And I wish that you could remember, too.”
The pair of them fell silent, and Twilight found herself wondering if that was really what she wished for as well.
They walked in silence and quickly came up to Rainbow Dash, who was lagging behind the others. Up close, she appeared even more pale and sickly than she had at a distance.
“Rainbow! Is something wrong?” asked Fluttershy.
“I’m fine,” lied Rainbow Dash. “Just feeling…off, I guess. That’s what happens when you spend a gazillion years out of practice. You get soft.”
“It probably doesn’t help that you ate so many of those crackers.”
“I can’t help it! I was hungry!”
“You know the saltpeter will make your wings limp, right?”
“L- -LIMP?!”
“It doesn’t actually do that,” said Twilight. “Besides. They look fine. But you look terrible.”
“Yeah, well, I’m old. Apparently. I probably just need some open sky. Pegasi don’t do well underground. I’ll feel fine when were outside.” She lifted her head and called hoarsely. “Hey! Silken! How much longer is it to the top?”
Silken’s eyes revolved so that she was looking backward at Rainbow Dash without turning her head. This did not seem to bother the ponies around her anymore, even though they had previously found it deeply unsettling. “That would depend on whether or not we encounter monsters.”
“M…monsters?” said Fluttershy, quivering.
“Yes. Monsters. If we find none, five hours.”
“Five hours! That’s all day!”
“Do you have anywhere else to be?” muttered Pinkie Pie sarcastically.
“Well, no, but…”
“It’s not that bad,” said Applejack. “We’ve walked farther, and we will walk farther someday. And I really need to see what it’s like up there.”
“You still don’t believe me,” said Silken.
“I do. But…I just have to see it.”
“Brace yourself,” said Twilight. “You may not like what you see.”
The ascent to the surface was arduous, but not impossible. None of it required flight, and the path, though often steep, was not especially treacherous and had only one or two narrow portions that required all the members of the group except Silken to struggle to squeeze through. It eventually terminated in a tall, vertical cylinder about eighty meters wide. It was quite clearly artificial, and Twilight could tell that it had at one time been a missile silo. The cladding on the walls had long-since fallen away, leaving only the tatters of concrete and the structum skeleton beneath. The missile was curiously absent, save for a dark residue at the bottom of the silo where parts of it had oxidized to dust thousands of centuries before.
Staircases coiled around the edge of the silo, and they were only broken in some spots. At those, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy and Twilight helped ferry their friends across, along with Silken, who had no problem jumping across vast gaps without even the slightest fear of falling. As the rose through the structure, the light from above became more apparent, at least to Twilight. It was incredibly dim, and blue, a glow filtering through meters upon meters of clear, radioactive ice.
The ice had been the only thing that had saved the silo from complete decay, or from having filled in ages prior. It formed a cap, with the only links to the outside atmosphere being through several channels of icy water that ran slowly through the ice and into the silo itself.
They followed one of these channels out. When daylight finally struck them, Twilight was forced to shield her eyes. It was not even direct sunlight- -it never could be with Equestria’s turbid atmosphere- -and the sky was angry gray, lit more by high-altitude phosphorescence than the sun. It was gray, and dark, and horrible, and yet it was still too bright for Twilight’s eyes. She had become accustomed to the dark.
There was silence as Twilight’s eyes began to adjust. Then she heard Applejack swear softly.
“Holy Celestia’s butt…”
Twilight looked out. They had emerged from the base of an ice crag into a vast plane of snow. Beyond it, almost against the horizon, was the forest of vast trees. Beyond those stood the mountains, still showing signs of geological upheaval and from having their tops severed in ancient times as ponies reduced them to basic resources. Dark storms were gathering across the gray skies in every direction.
The temperature was cold. Twilight’s HUD indicated that it was well below freezing. As an alicorn, she was not as readily subject to cold as other ponies; in addition, she had spent a great deal of time on ships that had progressively grown colder and colder as time had worn on. What was strange, though, was that her friends seemed not to notice the cold at all. Rarity’s stolen morphiplasm exterior had formed itself into a tight and fashionable parka, but none of the others showed any signs of discomfort. None of them complained, and none of them shivered apart from Rainbow Dash, who had been doing it since they were still far below the surface.
“Well, I guess we don’t have to worry about global warming,” said Pinkie, darkly.
Applejack looked at her, and then back at Twilight. “It…it’s true,” she said.
“Yeah,” said Twilight. “It is.” She pointed. “Ponyville would be that way about ten miles.” She pointed a different direction, at a mountain that even after so much time was still flat and low. “And that was the mountain that Canterlot was on.”
“Where did it go?” asked Rarity. “Where is Canterlot?”
“Deposits of rutile were found in the mountain. It was leveled for them. As for Canterlot, I have no idea. It was of very little consequence.”
“Little consequence! Darling, it was the most beautiful city in all of Equestria! You were born there! You used to love Canterlot!”
Twilight paused. She had forgotten that. It had been so long. “I…I did, didn’t I.”
“It probably still is the greatest city in Equestria,” said Pinkie. She pointed angrily out at the wastes. “As compared to, you know, Iceland out here. I mean, even YakYakistan wasn’t this depressing! And that’s saying A LOT!”
“Pinkie, you love YakYakistan!”
“Not to the point where I want to live there! Or live here, which is the same place, minus the yaks!” She turned to Twilight. “Look at this place! This isn’t fun at all! It’s the opposite of fun! It’s UNfun!”
Rainbow Dash chuckled. “You rhymed- -”
“You shut your blue mouth!” snapped Pinkie Pie. “I’m not done!” She glared at Twilight. “What did you do?! You maniac! You blew it up! Ah, darn you! Celestia darn you to HECK!”
“Pinkie!” gasped Rarity, nearly fainting from hearing such strong language.
“Twilight didn’t do this,” said Fluttershy. “Pinkie, please don’t be unreasonable- -”
“I didn’t do it personally,” said Twilight. “But I presided over it. Yes. The world you see is a direct result of my actions.”
“Twilight,” said Rarity, “Fluttershy is right, you can’t blame yourself- -”
“War. Famine. Disease. Conquest until there wasn’t a space of green left on this world. We peeled the surface away, took every resource we could until there were none left. We froze the core for its energy, and burned the oceans in the fusion engines. What was left was blown off the planet in wars of annihilation. Fallout mixed with the pollution of our own endless industry. And I sat on the throne the entire time. This is my fault.”
“That was in the past,” said Silken. “The distant past. Impossibly far.”
“To you,” said Twilight. “But it’s something I have to live with every day.” She turned out toward the distance. “The planet has healed since then, but badly. It’s not habitable, and it never will be. Sentient life cannot exist here. That’s why we abandoned it.”
“You killed Equestria,” said Pinkie Pie. “Some Princess you are.”
“Pinkie!”
“I’m not going to sugar coat it, Rarity! Even though that is literally one of the things I am the best at!” She pointed at Twilight. “You messed up BIG! Like your BUTT! Because- -because you’re FAT!”
“Hey!” cried Rainbow Dash, angrily. “Pinkie, now you’re just being mean! And that’s not even a good joke! What is wrong with you?!”
Pinkie Pie turned her head slowly, and Rainbow Dash gasped when she saw that Pinkie Pie’s eyes were flooded with tears and that she was suppressing a fit of weeping. “I just- -I just- -I can’t do this!” She lost control of the fit, and ran away through the snow, crying.
“Pinkie!” cried Rarity. She moved to follow her, but Applejack put her hoof on her shoulder, stopping her.
“Not now, sugarcube,” she said. “I reckon there isn’t a thing you can do for her right now.”
“But there is somepony who can,” whispered Fluttershy.
Twilight watched Pinkie Pie running, and then let out a long sigh. “Silken,” she said.
“Yes, Goddess?”
“Take the others toward the forest. Stop at the edge until I get back. I’ll meet you there.”
“It shall be done, Holy Aunt.”
“Don’t call me that.” Twilight spread her wings. “Don’t worry,” she said to her friends. “I’ll bring her back.”
Under normal circumstances, Pinkie Pie would have been quite quick and far more agile than her squishy, sugar-fed body would seem to allow. She was not adept at moving through the snow, though, and the going was clumsy. Eventually, she just stopped. Twilight, who was flying, had no trouble catching up to her.
Twilight descended from the cold sky and sat down next to Pinkie Pie in the snow. Pinkie was looking out over a small ice-cliff into a thin ravine.
“Pinkie?” said Twilight.
“Go away,” said Pinkie. She no longer sounded angry, or even sad. Her voice sounded empty. Somehow, that was worse.
“Make me.”
Pinkie Pie turned and glared through tear-filled, bloodshot eyes. Her expression softened for a moment, and she quickly turned back to the ravine. “I know,” she said.
“Know what?”
“That it isn’t your fault. You didn’t take us here, or really do all this. You’d probably have an aneurism making the planet this messy.”
“Believe me, I’m no stranger to brain injury at this point.”
“But it’s just not fair! Not the brain injury, I guess. Or maybe it was? I mean us being here! We’re not supposed to be here, not like this! Look at this place!” She pointed across the ravine. On the other side was nothing but rocks and ice covered in strange dull-green cyanobacterial moss. “How am I supposed to have a party here? Am I going to throw a depression party, and we can all get together and sigh and lament! I hate lamenting!”
“Well, you certainly are doing a lot of it.”
“I’m really sad, Twilight! And I don’t know how to make it go away.”
Twilight paused for a long moment, and then took a breath. “Yeah. I know how it feels.”
“You do?”
“Of course I do. Pinkie, remember, I outlived you. I outlived everypony. And I will outlive everypony. Silken, the captain, my personal students…they’re all going to leave me. Like you did.”
“Twilight, I didn’t mean to! If I could have pickled myself, I would have- -”
“You were pickled. It was in your will. Weirdly enough. If I recall, you also stated that the drywall in your home should be replaced with graham crackers before it was given to your granddaughter.” Twilight paused. “In retrospect, you may have become senile in your old age.”
“Oh wow,” said Pinkie Pie, her eyes wide. “Old mare me was so cool!” Her expression fell, and she looked back out at the emptiness. “But now I don’t have a granddaughter. Or a house. Or any graham crackers. I’ve got nothing. You’ve still got a cult, and space ships, and probably a planet or two.”
“I only have one planet.”
“But what do I have?”
“You have friends. That’s something I don’t have.”
Pinkie Pie gasped softly. “But- -you’re the Princess of Friendship! You not having friends would be like me being a blue pony, but, you know, still named ‘Pinkie Pie’ instead of “Blueie Pie’.” She shuddered. “Wow, that’s a terrible name!”
“I couldn’t take it anymore,” said Twilight, looking out into the ice that had once been cities and forests filled with happy, smiling ponies. “I didn’t want to make friends if they were just going to leave me. It’s not their fault. I know it’s not. For a while, though, they were immortal, and I was happy…but then the Virus came. Now all those friends I thought I would have forever are gone too.”
Pinkie Pie stared at Twilight. “My heart feels like it just ate twenty cakes too many. It hurts, Twilight. How do I make it stop hurting?”
“You forget,” said Twilight, still staring outward. “That’s what I did. I filled my brain with facts and figures, memories and endless texts. I pushed you and the others out of it. I pushed everypony out of it, until all that was left was my work.”
“But- -but- -I don’t want to forget! Maud, and Marble, and Limestone, and all the others, I don’t want to forget them! I love them!”
Twilight looked at Pinkie, whose eyes were starting to fill with tears again. “Then the pain isn’t going to go away. It will get duller over time, but it never goes away. It will always hurt. It hurts me right now, looking at you. But I’m not going to look away because of that pain, now am I?”
Pinkie Pie sniffled and then smiled. It was a weak smile, but one of the first real smiles Twilight had seen on her face since Pinkie had emerged from the tank. Twilight could not help but smile too.
“Hey,” said Twilight. “The others are heading for that forest over there, but I told them to wait for us. If I recall, you used to be an excellent skater. And look.” Twilight pointed toward a large exposed portion of the glacier, one that had filled with meltwater and frozen into something reminiscent of a pond.
Pinkie Pie saw it, and her face lit up. “But we don’t have skates!”
Twilight reached up to her face and grasped the morphiplasm respirator mask she wore. She took a deep breath and pulled it off, reconfiguring it as she did. It assembled itself into a set of eight small skates. After a moment, though, she had to breathe. And she did. She could smell the ozone and toxic magic of the world, and she felt the cold of Equestria’s air in her nostrils. Even after all this time and even as deeply as it was buried under pollution and evolution, she still recognized the base notes of that smell. It smelled like home.
“Here,” she said, giving four of the skates to Twilight.
“But you don’t know how to skate.”
“I didn’t once. But I’ve had a long time to practice a lot of things. We can’t spend all day here, but…well…I don’t think Silken will get impatient after a few minutes.”
Pinkie Pie smiled. “I get it,” she said. “We can skate, but we can’t go late, or will catch some hate, and that wouldn’t be a great fate. Pait…drait…bate? I can’t think of any more.”
“So we have to be in time for the date,” said Twilight.
Pinkie Pie gasped. “Oh! You did it!” She stood up and took the skates in her mouth. She paused, though. “And…do you think we can make a snowmare? Just one, before we go? I don’t know when we’ll get a chance again, you know, living in space and all. And we’ve certainly got enough snow.”
Twilight looked at the forest in the distance, and decided that there would be time. “Yeah,” she said. “Of course we can.”
When they returned, Twilight was flying and Pinkie Pie leaping across the ground. The going had been far faster than it had been before; Pinkie Pie seemed a million times lighter, and seemed closer to her usual springy self than before. Twilight, meanwhile, had taken back her morphiplasm but assembled it into a visor rather than a full facemask. That left her with the HUD, but allowed her to continue breathing the air around her. The increase in oxygen made flying vastly easier, and, interestingly, the heavy exposure to magical elements which should have been toxic to her had visibly accelerated the healing of her damaged horn. Her magic was nowhere near normal, but was now roughly the equivalent to that of a normal unicorn.
The wind had picked up, but not to the point where it had completely buried the tracks of four ponies and one remnus. Twilight spotted them easily and followed them into the forest of immense trees.
“Oh wow,” said Pinkie Pie. “Those are some big trees!”
“Indeed,” said Twilight.
“And you know what they say about big trees.”
“Um, no. I don’t.”
“They have big squirrels!” Pinkie Pie stifled a giggle. That had clearly not been the punchline. “And you know what they say about big squirrels, right?”
“There are not big squirrels in the forest. There aren’t any squirrels at all. Because they’re extinct.”
“They have big NUTS!” cried Pinkie Pie, suddenly howling with laughter and rolling in the snow. “HA!” she cried, “teen rating, here we come!”
Twilight had no idea what she was talking about, nor did she get the joke. “They’re not nut trees, though. They’re fruit trees.”
Pinkie Pie’s laughter faded, and she let out a long sigh. “Twilight, if I have to explain it, it’s not funny anymore.”
“But it’s not funny at all if I don’t get it.”
“Trust me, you’ll get it. Eventually. Hopefully.” Pinkie Pie sat up. “Okay. How about an easy one, then? Knock knock.”
“Pinkie, I don’t have time for- -”
“KNOCK. KNOCK. Open the door, or I’ll lick your doorknob. And believe me, it wouldn’t be the first time I’d licked somepony’s doorknob when they weren’t home.”
“Doorknobs…Pinkie, this isn’t that kind of joke, is it?”
“Just answer the door!”
“Fine! Who’s there?”
“Who.”
“Who who?”
“Ha! You’re an owl now!”
Twilight groaned. That joke had been almost physically painful.
“Oh come on! That was funny and you know it! Oh, oh, how about this one! A Pegasus, a unicorn, to yaks and a potato salespony walk into a bar…”
“And they had to put a sign on it so people would stop running into it?”
Pinkie Pie blinked, and then laughed. “That’s as good one! I should have thought of it! But no. One of the yaks orders a drink, and two unicorns start rubbing the other one down with rich, creamy butter…”
Pinkie Pie continued her story as Twilight followed the circuitous path of hoofprints in the snow. They went deeper than she had expected, and she began to wonder if Silken had actually followed her orders. That was until she saw Rarity standing in a rocky clearing, and Rainbow Dash sitting on a massive root above her, watching from a position of repose.
“…and then the Pegasus says: ‘that’s not my feather pillow, that’s my EX WIFE!’” She burst out laughing so hard that she snorted. Twilight chuckled a little bit, even though she was actually quite embarrassed at how dirty that joke had been.
Rarity, as expected, was changing her morphiplasm incessantly, moving between different styles of winter coats.
“How’s this?” she said, looking up at Rainbow Dash. “A peacoat never goes out of fashion.”
“Yeah,” said Rainbow Dash. “If you don’t mind looking like a stallion.”
Rarity grumbled, and then shifted her clothing again. “A layered sweater, then? Or how about something in fur? Fake fur, of course, the last time I didn’t add that Fluttershy didn’t speak to me for a month.”
“You might just not have heard her. She’s pretty quiet.”
“Oh. Hmm. How about a hat, too? And a matching muff?” Rainbow Dash giggled and snorted. Rarity glared at her. “It is a legitimate garment!” she cried, “and it is quite elegant! Even if, you know, you can’t walk properly while you are using one. But when you’re sitting, they are indeed excellent! I’m sure if you tried putting your hooves in one, you’d love muffs too!”
Rainbow Dash snorted again. “You know what? I bet I would.”
Rarity grumbled. “Perhaps a winter dress with a jacket? Or maybe- -” She saw Twilight and Pinkie Pie approaching smiled widely. “Twilight! Pinkie! I was beginning to worry!”
“There’s nothing to worry about,” said Twilight.
“But the cold, darling! You’ll catch a chill! You should have at least brought a muff!”
By this time, Rainbow Dash was loudly guffawing. Neither Twilight nor Rarity knew why. Rainbow Dash, to Twilight, did seem a bit healthier. She was less pale, and seemed to have more energy. Twilight wondered if it really had been the lack of a sky overhead that had been making her so ill- -or if it was her imagination that she was getting better at all.
“Ooh! Ooh!” cried Pinkie, jumping up and down. “How about a quad-muff!”
“A…quad muff?” Rarity looked confused.
“Yeah! One that puts ALL your hooves in one muff!”
“Darling, how would you move?”
“How do you move with one? You’d have to walk on your back legs! And ponies can’t really do that, I’ve seen Lyra Heartstrings doing all the time. She just ends up falling down.”
“I will…make a note of it?” She switched her clothing to a high-collared jacket. That was when she saw Twilight’s visor. “Twilight! You changed your helmet!”
“I did,” said Twilight. “The other one was…needlessly restrictive.”
“Well, I think the minimalism is far better. And more futuristic!”
“Yeah!” called Rainbow Dash. “You look awesome! All future-y! Now all you need are some armor-plated calf-high boots!”
“Rainbow Dash!” cried Rarity, her voice rising several octaves. “That is not the sort of thing Twilight would wear!”
“Why? It would be totally cool! Like, sci-fi warrior cyberpunk or something.”
“Cyberpunk fashion works well in theory but looks hideous in practice! Twilight would look better in a double-button blouse, uniform style but with some accents.”
“I only have enough morphiplasm for the headpiece.”
“Or for skates,” added Pinkie Pie. “The hoof kind. Not the fish.”
“Wait,” said Rainbow Dash. “There’s a fish called a skate? Since when?”
Rarity ignored them. “Well, you can borrow some of mine, if you like.”
“No,” said Twilight. “It looks much better on you. And you need it more than I do anyway. You’ll find it’s a lot more durable than normal fabric.”
“But does it stain?” mused Rarity, looking at her sleeve. “That’s the question…”
“Do you know where the others are?”
“The others?”
“Fluttershy and Applejack?”
“And Silken! You know, the tall one? About eleven feet tall, looks like a gerenuk?”
“I know what she looks like, Pinkie. I’ve known her longer than you. Admittedly not by much, but at least a little bit. And I’m not worried about her. She’s a sixteen ton machine. I’m more concerned with the squishier members of the group.”
“They walked off that way,” said Rarity, pointing. “Rainbow Dash wasn’t feeling well, so I stayed behind with her. That and it looked awfully muddy in that direction. And I can’t risk getting muddy! There’s no soap anywhere nearby, or even a spa!”
“I’m not sick,” said Rainbow Dash, standing up and visibly shaking for a moment. “I’m fine! I just wanted to wait for Twilight and Pinkie, that’s all!”
“And to listen to Rarity talking about muffs,” said Pinkie. Rainbow Dash laughed again and nearly fell off her branch.
“Do you know where they are now?”
“I do,” said Rarity, forming herself a pair of cold-weather boots and stepping from her clearing into the snow. “They went this way.”
Rarity led them through the snow. Rainbow Dash followed, and Twilight was sure to take note of the fact that she walked rather than flying. Her concern over Rainbow Dash’s health was growing, and although the Pegasus’s condition had improved Twilight refused to allow herself to become too optimistic.
Applejack had not gone far. The others found her standing at the base of a root ten times wider than she was tall, which in turn led to a tree that stretched high into the sky above. She was staring up at the canopy as if she were waiting for something.
“Applejack!” said Rarity, stepping to her side. “We were wondering where you went off to!”
“I’ve just been over here,” said Applejack, still looking up at the tree.
Rainbow Dash looked up at the tree where Applejack was looking. “Um, AJ? What’s up?”
“Trees,” she said.
“Well, I’ve never seen a tree go DOWN,” mused Pinkie. “It would be like a big potato. I could probably hollow it out and live in it. Or make the BIGGEST potato skins EVER!” She paused. “But then I would need big bacon…”
“I’m not looking at potatoes,” said Applejack. “And for the record, ponies don’t eat bacon. That’s just wrong.”
“Then why are you staring at the tree, Darling? Surely it’s not going to do a trick.”
“I’m about to win a bet.”
Almost on cue, a shape moved quickly through the branches of the tree. Twilight breathed in sharply, wondering if she would have to defend her friends from some strange beast from the canopy. Her visor quickly focused on the object, though, and confirmed that it was Silken. She was descending from the top of the tree at great speed, easily leaping from branch to branch as she moved. There was almost something elegant and magical about the way she moved, or rather, there would have been had Twilight not known that she was a machine whose body had specifically been precision constructed for unnatural grace.
Silken was not alone, though. She was carrying something. When she finally descended to where Applejack was standing, she set down her load. It was a single, massive red fruit almost as large as Silken herself.
“Well slap me on the flank and call me Fluttershy!” cried Applejack. “I’ll be tied up and dipped in caramel, you weren’t kiddin’! They really are apple trees!”
“I told you,” said Silken. “I am programmed to be completely unable to lie.”
“No you aren’t,” said Twilight.
Silken smiled. “Exactly.”
Applejack approached the fruit in awe, and looked up at the trees. “So these…these are all Appletrees?”
Twilight nodded. “My guess is that these are the descendent of the trees from your orchard.”
Applejack gasped. “You think?”
Silken looked up at the trees. “It must have taken a great deal of love and care to produce trees whose offspring could survive and grow wild under these conditions.”
“Applejack,” said Twilight. “Didn’t you have names for every single tree?”
“You’re darn tootin’,” said Applejack.
“Every single one?” said Rainbow Dash. She turned to Rarity. “Did you know that?”
“Well, I knew SOME trees had names, but…darling, there must have been thousands!”
“Eight hundred and fourth seven, plus two hundred and six babies,” said Applejack. “And eawch and every one had a name.” She looked up at the vast tree overhead. “But these ones don’t, and that’s an awful shame. They seem to be doing pretty well for themselves, though.” She pointed suddenly, and narrowed her eyes. “And this guy looks a bit like a Bartolomeu…”
“How can you tell it’s a boy tree?” asked Pinkie Pie. “Is it from looking at the twigs?”
“Well, yes, but you also have to consider the trunk and the root, and…” She turned suddenly to Pinkie Pie. “Wait a darn minute. Were you just making a joke?”
“No. I’m programmed to be absolutely unable to joke.”
“You aren’t either!” said Twilight. “You’re not programmed at all!”
“Exactly.”
“Well,” said Applejack, “it’s good to see you’re feeling a little better.” She turned back to the giant apple. “How about we celebrate with the world’s largest apple fritter?
She reached up and gently caressed the apple. As she did, it suddenly started shaking. Applejack cried out as the bottom part of the apple unfurled into a number of stocky, jointed legs. The middle part then split down the center, revealing an asymmetrical complex of eyes imbedded in a woodlike pit. A large claw snapped at Applejack, and when she jumped back the apple sprayed her with a torrent of small black seeds. It then scuttled off sideways.
“You get back here!” shouted Applejack, wiping the seeds from her face and proceeding to chase the fruit. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had to wrangle some kind of ambulatory apple before! I’ll make fritters out of you if it’s the last thing I do!”
She only managed to get twenty feet before something else with a preponderance of legs dropped from the overhanging arch of one of the roots. This, though, was not an apple of any kind. It more closely resembled a huge scorpion, although its body was covered in moss and mushrooms. That was how it had camouflaged itself as it lie in wait for something more palpable than walking fruit.
“Gah!” cried Applejack, falling backward onto her haunches. “Mah apple!”
The apple, of course, was not in danger. It took one last look back at them and retreated vertically up a nearby rock face before disappearing in the distance. The scorpion, though, loomed over Applejack and did indeed appear to be the more pressing concern. Twilight charged her horn, preparing a spell that even with her greatly reduced power should have still been quite potent. She had nearly fired it when she spied Fluttershy sitting calmly on the back of the scorpion.
“Fluttershy!”
“Hi Twilight,” said Fluttershy, calmly.
“What are you doing up there?!”
“Sitting. It’s very soft.”
The glassy eyes of the scorpion shifted from pony to pony, and Twilight could see saliva dripping from a many-toothed mouth that looked more like it would belong on some horrible deep-river fish than on a giant arachnid. It did not attack, though, and in fact lowered itself to give Fluttershy a chance to climb off.
“Huh?” said Rarity, recovering from her faint. “Oh my head…Rainbow Dash, I just had the worst dream. There was an enormous crab, with all sorts of legs and…” She looked up at the scorpion, and it looked at her. “Oh for pony’s sake,” she said, fainting again.
Fluttershy stepped down and hugged the scorpion. It hugged back, although with many, many more legs.
“Hugs for bugs!” cried Pinkie Pie. “I want a hug too!” She ran forward, and the scorpion immediately began to squeeze her with its several large claws. “Eek!” gasped Pinkie. “That’s a strong…grip! Carefully…you’ll squeezed out my filling…”
“Fluttershy, what is this?” asked Twilight, still annoyed. Her heart was beating quickly, which made the implants that surrounded it throb painfully. “You could have gotten eaten!”
“Oh no,” said Fluttershy. “Simon only eats apples.”
“Simon?”
“That’s his name. Well, it’s actually more complicated by that, but Simon’s sort of close.”
“And why were you riding a scorpion?”
“He’s not a scorpion. He’s a type of vinegaroon.”
“That explains his…sour…expression,” gasped Pinkie. She was still being “hugged” with incredible vigor.
“I met him when I went for a walk. I was talking to some hummingbirds- -”
“Wait,” said Twilight. “Hummingbirds? There aren’t any birds on this planet.”
“I checked,” said Silken.
“Well, no, they’re not REALLY hummingbirds. More like enormous mosquitos.”
“Mo- -mosquitos!” cried Applejack. “Where? Gosh darn it, they’re gonna try to take my apple juices, aren’t they?”
“That would suck,” wheezed Pinkie Pie.
“- -and they told me that there was a vinegaroon that needed help. And he did. He was so sad. Crying, even. Well…more of salivating. But in a sad way.” She stroked the moss on the creature. “He was having trouble finding a lady vinegaroon, but I told him that all he needed to do was build up his confidence. Maybe get pruned a little. Rarity always says first impressions are very important.”
The creature snorted. Twilight could not tell if it was a happy snort or a hungry one.
“I want to ride a scorpion too!” said Rainbow Dash.
“Vinegaroon,” corrected Fluttershy. “And I’m afraid he’s busy right now. But we can come back later. Isn’t that right, Simon?”
The creature grunted again.
“Go on now! Make thousands upon thousands upon thousands of adorable little eggs! And don’t forget to duck, or your head might get bitten off!” Fluttershy giggled and the scorpion did something that might have been a smile. Then it hugged her and walked off, dropping Pinkie Pie in the process.
“Oof!” she said. “Applejack?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you take a look to see if my upper part is still connected to my bottom part?”
“I’m not looking at your bottom part, Pinkie.”
“Well, neither am I! What if he loved me to pieces?”
“You’re fine,” said Silken. “And even if you weren’t, I’m pretty sure I know how to reconnect them.”
“Really?”
“No. I lied again.”
Fluttershy rejoined the group as the scorpion left. “This place is amazing,” she said. “The level of biodiversity is really quite impressive. I thought I knew every single animal, but now I don’t know any! So many new things to learn, and new furry- -or rather chitinous, I guess- -friends to make!”
“I’m pretty sure I saw a furry cockroach,” said Rainbow Dash.
“Rarity can use as a muff!” said Pinkie Pie, jumping to her feet.
“Ugh,” said Rarity. “Who’s talking about my muff? What?” She blinked. “Is it gone?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my,” said Rarity, finally letting Rainbow Dash release her. “I simply cannot believe this place. You know I detest spiders. Almost as much as Twilight detests snakes.”
“It’s been like elevendy bajillion years!” said Pinkie Pie. “There’s no way Twilight is still afraid of snakes after all that time!”
“You would be surprised,” said Silken. She was then silenced by a glare from Twilight.
“Are we all feeling better?” asked Twilight. “Because as much as I don’t want to rush anypony, we are on a tight schedule.”
“Yeah,” said Rainbow Dash. “We know.”
Twilight was surprised. “You know?”
“Twilight, it’s not exactly news,” said Applejack. “You schedule everything. Every time.”
“No I don’t.”
“Darling,” said Rarity, “you had a schedule over your bed that defined time allotments for making other schedules.”
“I remember that,” said Twilight, her eyes widening. “I loved my schedule schedule…”
“But moving shouldn’t be a problem,” said Applejack. “My legs have been ichin’ for a walk worse than a pair of boots made out of poison oak.”
“Yeah, moving isn’t a problem at all!” exclaimed Pinkie. “Unless you have aquariums! Then it’s an absolute bi- -”
“Pinkie!”
“- -t of trouble?”
They laughed, and started walking. They did not get very far before Twilight suddenly stopped.
“Twilight?” said Fluttershy, turning around. “What is it?”
“Silken?”
“I hear it too.”
“MOVE.”
The pair of them moved in unison, grabbing the other ponies and shoving them firmly beneath a large root. Pinkie laughed loudly, and Rarity squealed in offense.
“Unhoof me!” she said.
“Quiet!” hissed Twilight.
The others did not seem to understand what was going on- -until they heard the sound too. A low, sterile groan that sounded too deep for any organic being to make. It was so low as to be nearly inaudible, as ominous as it was impassive.
The whole group fell absolutely silent, save for the sound of Fluttershy’s quivering. Then the more adventurous members among them stuck their heads out through the thick tendrils of moss-like algae that hung from the root and looked toward the source of the sound: the sky.
At first, there was nothing. The trees obscured the grayness beyond, and there was no motion, not even that of the various winged insects that Twilight was sure resided up in the leaves of the vast apple trees.
This silence and stillness did not last long. Twilight was the first to see them, and even though she knew exactly what to expect her breath still stopped from fear as they passed overhead.
There were five of them, their rust and metal-coated bodies seeming to drag through the air. They were propelled by long, well-formed sets of wings: two bore blue wings with blue feathers, and the other three had shorter wings in a pale yellow color. The blue ones had assumed long, vicious-looking shapes with various limbs of thin machinery and gray flesh emerging from below their snakelike bodies. The yellow ones were far stockier, to the point of being almost round, although they dragged long trails of tentacles behind them as they buzzed through the air.
“What in the name of Celestia’s vanilla-scented rump are THOSE?” whispered Applejack.
Fluttershy peaked out. “They’re not animals,” she said. “Definitely not animals…”
“Not animals?” said Pinkie. “Does that mean they’re…MONSTERS?”
Fluttershy squeaked. “Pinkie, no….”
“Does anypony have a silver sword, then?”
Twilight shushed them angrily, but it was too late. One of the stockier creatures seemed to have heard them. It deviated from the flock, tilting and rolling almost randomly through the air until it came to rest against the trunk of a tree. A number of mechanical legs emerged from the side, locking it into the thick bark. It took a step forward, something that appeared extremely awkward for a creature with radial symmetry. Then it stood for a moment, silent and waiting.
A sound went out over the forest, almost deafening despite being on the lower range of pony hearing. It rose quickly to an electrical hum, and Twilight’s friends covered their ears in pain. Twilight did not. She kept watching, and she was rewarded by something she wished she had not seen. The metal carapace on the back of the creature split open, dripping a large volume of hydraulic fluid and mucous in the process to reveal a single, massive eye that seemed to take up most of the creature’s body.
They eye shifted around the forest, moving in rabid panic from tree to tree, its blue iris and jaundiced yellow sclera flitting from surface to surface as its tiny round pupil searched for the source of the sound below.
“It’s going to see us,” wept Fluttershy, “oh Celestia, it’s going to see us!”
“How could it not?” said Pinkie Pie. “I mean, it’s eye is HUGE!”
“PINKIE!”
“What? It’s not like it made a giant ear, it’s an eye so- -HFMMFMMF!!”
Pinkie had been silenced by Silken putting a long and oddly flexible leg over her mouth.
Above, the creature took another step forward, the eye turning exactly to where the ponies were. For a moment, it seemed to lock on Twilight, and her eyes locked on it. Then its genderless, distorted voice rang out through the trees.
“Vortog…plath idena…thanthakta…”
The pupil then dialated to the edge of the iris. It paused for a moment, and then dilated further. The eyeball burst open into undifferentiated tentacles, which then spread outward, wrapping around each other and changing shape as they sprouted yellow feathers. Within seconds, the creature was covered in roughly made, ragged wings, and it took flight, rejoining its compatriots. Twilight had been so focused on the eye-creature that she had not noticed that the others had begun to circle, waiting for its report.
They circled one last time, and then departed. Their sound continued to carry for a few minutes longer, but then stopped suddenly without fading. The ponies stood in silence for a long moment, and then proceeded to panic.
“What were THOSE?!” cried Rarity. “Those bodies, that- -that EYE!” She shuddered so hard that her morphiplasm clothing momentarily reverted to its default form. “So DISGUSTING!”
“They looked like the monster from ‘Daring Do and the Three-Lobed Eye’!” exclaimed Rainbow Dash, seemingly both excited and terrified at the same time. “You know, the one that sucks the marrow from- -”
“Please no!” cried Fluttershy, “I don’t want to hear about marrow being sucked! Or anything being sucked out of anything else! I just can’t take it!”
“Those weren’t some fanciful creation out of some book,” said Applejack, “Twilight, those were monsters! But I haven’t seen anything like that near Ponyville- -”
“Well, they’ve certainly seen you,” said Pinkie Pie. “In tiny, intricate detail!” She looked up at Silken. “You taste like licorice!”
Silken smiled. “My husband used to say the same thing. When we were both alive, of course.”
“You had a WHAT- -”
“Don’t get distracted!” shouted Applejack. “Twilight,” she said, turning to the pony in question. “You’ve been here longer than us, what in the name of applebutter and applejam on applebread sandwitches were those…things?”
Twilight shook her head. “I haven’t been here much longer than you. Nopony has. I don’t know what they are. But I have seen them before.”
“You have?”
“Yes. One of them attacked me. And it knew what it was doing. It purposefully disabled my horn. If I hadn’t been an alicorn…”
“Twilight,” said Rarity. “You can’t mean THOSE things have some level of intelligence, do you?”
“I highly doubt it. But they are extremely dangerous.” She pointed at Rainbow Dash. “And we can’t win a fight against them.”
“Why are you pointing at me?”
“But where…where did they come from?” whispered Fluttershy.
“Civilization has risen and fallen since Equestria died,” said Twilight. “Perhaps more than once. Those might very well be the remains of the last one.”
“Or what ended the last one,” said Silken. She paused, then added, “or both.”
“It doesn’t matter what they are, or where they came from,” said Twilight. “What matters is that I have a feeling that there are a lot of them.” She looked at her friends, addressing all of them. “We need to get you to the rendezvous point, as quickly as possible. I think you can see now, this planet isn’t safe. We need to hurry.”
“Right,” said Rarity.
“I’ll scout ahead,” said Rainbow Dash, taking to the air.
“Don’t get farther than two hundred meters,” said Twilight. “Silken, keep an eye on her position.”
“It will be done.”
“Silken and I will bring up the rear. We’re both durable enough to hold our own.”
“The rest of us aren’t exactly wet tissue paper either,” muttered Applejack. She then looked down at where Fluttershy was cowering. “Well, at least most of us.”
“Can you walk off getting a tentacle through the chest?”
“Uh…no?”
“Exactly. Silken and I can. So we get the back. You keep an eye on each other, okay?”
“Or else they will keep an eye on you,” said Pinkie Pie, jumping down from Silken’s grasp. “It’s okay, Twilight. I’ll watch out for being watched, and if I knew the time I’d watch my watch too to make sure we’re moving in time! You don’t have to worry!”
“Alright,” said Twilight. “Just be careful. I’ve already lost you all once. I don’t know what I would do if I had to do it again.”
The others nodded, and began to walk in the direction Rainbow Dash had gone. Silken and Twilight held back for a moment.
“This does raise a concern,” said Silken at last.
“That the path to the point takes us directly past my Castle,” said Twilight, darkly as she watched her friends head in that very direction. “I know.”
“Now that I have access to the ship’s scanners and Inky Nebula’s results, I have concluded that we are in the base of a valley. Passing over the mountains will be impossible. The temperature is one hundred eighty, and the radiation levels between three hundred fifty seven and six hundred twelve rem. They would not survive the journey on any alternative paths.”
“Which is why I didn’t suggest it,” said Twilight. “None of that matters to me. It’s the time that I care about. We can’t afford any delays. Every second they’re left on this planet, they’re in danger.”
“As are you.”
“I am immortal. No force on this world can end me.”
“That may be true,” said Silken, “but approaching your old home will be harrowing.”
“And I am prepared to face that.”
Silken let out a sound similar to a sigh. It must have taken a great deal of conscious effort, as she had no lungs. “I anticipated this,” she said. “I used the nanomanufacturing suit to produce a number of drugs. Some of them will be able to reduce but not eliminate your reaction to proximity to the Map.”
“I’ll get as far as I can without them,” said Twilight as she started walking, feeling her fear of the oncoming pain growing with each step. “I don’t want them to know I’m sick, or in pain. Can you make sure of that?”
The general spirit aboard the starship was pleasant, or even outright happy. Communication had been reestablished with the surface, and now the crew were receiving direct readings and real-time information from the remnus that had been paired with the Goddess. They had also been informed that the time had come to prepare the ship for departure. This came as something of a shock to the crew, although a positive one indeed. The crew had been specifically chosen for an extended mission, with the members selected for their relative youth. To be returning to Empire space after such a short time was more than welcome, as many members had already accepted the fact that they would die of old age in orbit around their ancestral homeworld.
The captain had not been specific on her briefings, but the information that she had given the crew was enough that conclusions had been drawn. It was generally assumed that Twilight Sparkle would be returning with something in tow, something critical to the treatment of the Mortality Virus but overall of unknown nature.
This lead to the crew overall being jovial as they went about their work. Even the remni seemed more cheerful than normal, if such a thing was possible. The only one among them that did not share in their good spirits was the captain herself, who sat sequestered as always aboard her bridge. Inky Nebula stood at her side, maintaining the suppression field that she had been ordered to generate. Not that it would do any good. It had proven impossible to trace the signal parse, but the captain did not need to. There was only one pony who could have split it so effectively and then made all traces of the connection vanish. For this reason, Inky Nebula had also been instructed to keep the sensory implants that ran throughout her body focused on the cultist ship only, watching its every move while the ship’s sensors assisted Silken Dream with navigation.
The cultist ship still remained docked, for the time being. The pair of ships were connected, drifting together through the exosphere of the planet in tense silence. The link remained viable, and cultists were still free to cross, if only because the captain wanted to avoid arousing suspicion until she was able to react- -and because she still had no idea exactly how many of the mages were still residing in their ship, or what else might be lurking in its liquid atmosphere.
Light Gloom had never left the Prodijila. He remained on board, waiting and listening. As the crew began to prepare a shuttle craft and the necessary decontamination equipment, he sat in silence, watching a representation of the pair of dissimilar ships projected directly into his mind by the needles that ran from his armor to his brain. It was a small false-color representation, a slowly revolving model, perfect in every way: his ship, referred to as N689, and the Prodijila, together in unison, working toward the exact same goal.
He stopped the image, and linked himself to the hive consciousness of his kind. “Now.”
In an instant, the N689 fired hundreds of thin harpoons tipped with artificial diamond into the Prodijila’s body. The morphiplasm hardened in defense, but it was not fast enough or hard enough to stop the tethers from penetrating deeply. Some were stopped, but those that succeeded in reaching the aetherite skeleton of the ship immediately grasped and bonded to it. The Prodijila tried to escape, immediately firing its engine- -and from the speed of that response indicating that they had been watching and waiting for a rapid escape - -but with the tethers already installed it could not separate from the N689.
Before the tethers had even attached, the cultists immediately responded to their leader’s orders. They had dispersed throughout the Royal Navy sailors, and although the other ponies had avoided them the cultists had never given them cause to feel threatening. Now they attached those who had attempted to befriend them. Each cultist summoned their standard array of technomagic weapons, firing powerful enchantments into the crowd. The naval crew was unarmored, and cried out and fell as they were struck by powerful stunning spells.
A few among the crew were able to react. Some of them had the capacity to wield technomagic themselves. They were mostly engineers, though, and the implants that gave them use of some artificial semblance of magic had been designed with safety paramount, taking into account the frail bodies and virally-infected nervous systems of the ponies that would be using them. The cultists had received different implants that had not made such considerations.
Some of the engineers managed to deflect the first barrage and fight back or get to cover, but they were quickly overrun and defeated. They were no match for the well-trained wizards that marched through the ship with vicious precision.
Then, suddenly, the ship began to shift. The captain began to intervene, changing the composition and configuration of the ship’s walls. Her crew was isolated form the cultists by thick, impermeable walls, and the cultists themselves trapped in armored rooms. They immediately began to attempt to cut through, but their abilities were useless against the hull of a starship. Even if they had, the material quickly closed in on them, sealing them tightly and imprisoning them.
Light Gloom stepped out of the section where he was residing. The formerly white walls of the ship had faded to diffuse gray. As he watched, they narrowed at either edge of the hall, sealing it off perfectly and trapping him in one region.
The tall mare who had been waiting with him stepped out of the room and stood beside him. “This section has been sealed off. Penetrating shielding will be impossible.”
“I have no need to penetrate it. However, I was hoping it would not come to this.”
“Hope?”
“Indeed. Appearances to the contrary, I still do have that capacity.” Light Gloom opened several interfaces for his technomatic relays and began to mentally entered a complex formula, one that had been given to him personally by his beloved teacher, the Goddess Twilight Sparkle herself.
Before the walls could begin to isolate him, Light Gloom’s body had begun to dematerialize in a sequence of orange-illuminated pieces. Had he not removed his capacity to feel pain, it would have been agonizing. Within less than a second, the tall mare was standing alone as she allowed the morphiplasm of the ship to cover her. She knew what Light Gloom was doing, and trusted in his ability to accomplish it.
Light Gloom reassembled himself on the bridge of the ship, stepping out of the teleportation spell seamlessly. Two of the primary crew members were elsewhere, and records indicated that Golden Star had already been captured while Heliotrope was blocked in a dead-end area near the central engine core. Only Inky Nebula, the decedent of Lunar Cultists, remained with the captain.
Nebula quickly interposed herself between the captain and Light Gloom. She did so gracefully, but not quickly. Her bones, like all of those of her kind, were so weak that breaking into a run could be catastrophic. She stood there, a sensor unit, unarmed and unarmored, against a pony dressed in heavy cybernetic armor, one capable of using the most advanced technomagic in existence with a power assist that made him stronger than any traditional remnus. From the look in her large black eyes, Light Gloom could see that she understood this as well as he did. He might have admired it, had her foolishness and weakness not both disgusted him so deeply.
“Inky!” ordered the captain, “stand down.”
“I cannot do that, captain. It is my duty to protect you.”
“I do not wish to fight you,” said Light Gloom. “Your body is frail. I could inadvertently cause catastrophic damage to you.”
“So be it.”
“Inkamena! I gave you a direct order! Stand DOWN!”
“No, I won’t, I- -EEEK!”
Inky Nebula cried out as the morphiplasm floor suddenly became liquid. She sunk and was rapidly pulled through to a lower deck before the floor assumed a solid, armored form. Light Gloom’s metal-clad hooves clicked across the space where she had just been. “You sent her away,” he said. “Do you care for the girl?”
“I care for all my crew,” said the captain, turning herself toward Light Gloom. “And I do not care for you.”
“It does not sadden me. I do not terribly care.”
“What you are doing is mutiny,” said the captain icily. “You understand that, don’t you? Think for a second, you fool, do you have any idea- -”
“I am not committing mutiny. You are.”
The captain inhaled sharply. Light Gloom was surprised she still could. “How dare you!”
“My orders are absolute, my mission clear and sanctioned by the Goddess. You intend to adopt several stray ponies, as if that would be the cure we require for the Mortality Virus.”
“You parsed my signal.”
“And I know that you were conspiring against the Will of the Goddess. You are a heretic, and jeopardizing the mission.”
“That little- -you’re working with Twilight!”
“I only exist to serve the Goddess. In this case, it involves vaporizing that planet and everything on it. That is Her Will. Which is why I am assuming full command of this mission.”
“You can try,” said the captain. “But you will not succeed.”
The ship suddenly shifted. The morphiplasm struck out at Light Gloom, assembling itself into sharp white needles. He did not even react physically; rather, he projected a shield spell to block them. Once they had struck and continued to attempt to push forward toward his body, he produced an interference field that assumed temporary control of the morphiplasm in his vicinity. The needles immediately collapsed into piles of small cubes that fell to and merged with the floor below.
The captain attempted to strike again, but doing so was surprisingly difficult. It was almost impossible for her to actually see Light Gloom; he was projecting his own interference field, making the ship’s internal sensors almost useless. This forced the captain to use her own eyes, which were nearly blind. She could see him, but not well.
She condensed the morphiplasm around him, hoping to contain him. If she could contain him fully, she could attempt to interface with his suit and overwrite its core functions. She could imprison him in his own armor if she froze the power assist. However, as soon as she reached out for him, he moved.
He was fast. Far faster than any normal pony should have even been able to survive. In a fraction of a second, he was on top of her. The captain attempted to retreat, using the robotic arm linked to her head to pull her back- -but it was too late. He had taken hold of her body. The captain’s breath caught when she realized what was about to happen to her, and how immeasurably painful it would be.
“You are hereby deposed as captain,” said Light Gloom, calmly. Then he pulled, hard.
The captain was not sure if she was giving him the satisfaction of screaming or not, but the pain was certainly on par with what she had expected. What she had not anticipated was the psychological effect. As the cables of light that linked her brain to the ship strained and snapped, she felt herself breaking with them. Part of her- -her mind, and her identity- -was being left behind. The body she had been born with was only a small portion of her true body, which was the ship itself. As she was pulled apart, the pony she had become ceased to exist as she was torn in two.
In general, captains were never removed once they were installed in ships. It was not considered even remotely safe, and some scientists doubted if it was even possible. It was an indignity that was never meant to occur, a humiliating violation as much as an instance of mortal peril. Yet Light Gloom did not hesitate or slow. He tore the captain free of the cables that bound her to the ship, and then tossed her unceremoniously on the cold floor below.
The sensors were gone. The captain- -if she could even be called that; her identity had been stripped from her for the second time in her life- -lay on the hard surface, nearly unable to see. She struggled to move, but her body was so badly atrophied that she could not even crawl.
Light Gloom approached her. As he did, he withdrew a small rectangular device from under his cloak, suspending it in front of him in a suspense field. The captain could not see color, but she still saw the light as what she knew to be an orange hard-light blade assembled itself around the edge of the hilt. It was a long blade.
“Go ahead,” she sighed defiantly. “Finish what you started.”
“Do you take me for a barbarian?” said Light Gloom, gently setting the hard-light blade on the floor next to the captain. “Ponies do not kill. That has been our way since we were primitive tribes on that planet outside, and I intend to make sure that such is always the case.”
“Then what are you doing? What is the knife for?”
“To give you a fair chance. Go ahead. Pick it up. Fight me. I will cast no spell to protect myself. I will allow you to strike me down, and for you to retake your ship.”
The captain looked at him incredulously, but to her even greater humiliation felt herself attempting to reach toward the sword. Her hooves shook and moved a few centimeters, but even doing that left her gasping for breath. The knife sat just beyond her reach, but she could not lift her limbs. A lifetime suspended without use of her body had left her unable to perform even the most basic physical task.
“You can’t, can you?” said Light Gloom. He turned his back to her and stepped onto the platform where the remains of the blue control cables were flicking back and forth, attempting to find the pony who was meant to be connected to them. “You are a perfect example of what our evolution has brought us. What we will become. You can’t fight me. You can’t even walk. Or stand. This is not the state ponies were meant to occupy! You are not what we are supposed to be!”
“You are one to talk,” growled the captain. “Feeling safe and snug in that armor, maybe? Because you can’t take it off, can you?” Light Gloom looked over his shoulder, and the captain grinned maliciously, knowing that she had found at least some way to hurt him, even in the slightest possible way. “That’s why you wear it, isn’t it? If you removed it, you would die.” She let out a pained laugh. “So we’re both just as evolutionarily inferior, aren’t we?”
Light Gloom stared at her, and then cast a stunning spell on her. The captain cried out as the orange light sparked over her body, and then she fell limp. “Interesting how easily you assume,” mused Light Gloom as he stepped to the platform beneath the blue cables.
He shifted his cloak, and a number of thin, multi-jointed robotic arms emerged from beneath. They arced upward, their claws extending and opening as they reached toward the writhing blue cables. The harsh, cold metal of Light Gloom’s cybernetic body met the elegant light of the connections and instantly clamped down, forcing them to be still as he interfaced himself to the ship. Within seconds, he had replaced the captain and taken full command of the Prodijila.
The ship automatically began to reconfigure. Light Gloom’s auxiliary computers took over the functions that would normally belong to a highly trained naval captain’s mind, manipulating the morphiplasm in ways that they had never been modified before. The color of the ship changed, from white to silver and finally dull black. What had once been amorphous and protean became solid and crystalline, hardening into heavy armor. The ship he was forming was not one that was meant to fly, but one that was meant to serve his purposes.
The first order of business was to free his comrades. At the same time, the ship swallowed its former crew, moving them through channels to one of several brigs that Light Gloom assembled with mechanical precision for the exclusive purpose of housing the ponies he no longer needed until the mission was complete.
He also moved several of his members directly to the bridge, depositing them on the circular floor of his new command center before tearing open perfectly square doors at tangents to the room that led to long, dark armored hallways.
Two of the cultists approach them. One was Luminescence, and the other was her sister, Phosphorescence. Their armor was nearly identical, but Light Gloom could differentiate them easily.
“You have taken command,” said Phosphorescence.
“I have,” said Light Gloom.
“That was not part of our original operating parameters,” said Luminescence. She sounded disinterested, as though this were something mildly amusing instead of anything of consequence. Her view of the world was exactly as it was meant to be.
“No. I was forced to improvise.”
“That is exceedingly risky.”
“Especially with such important matters.”
“This was not an unexpected course of events,” argued Light Gloom, calmly attempting to assuage their displeasure. “I had anticipated this contingency. We can no longer expect Twilight Sparkle to lead us to Cadenza’s remains.”
Phosphorescence and Luminescence paused, thinking carefully. “Then what is your intention?” asked Luminescence at last.
“Assemble a team and remove the Prodijila’s central reactor. We will fire it at the planet and detonate it in the ionosphere. The resulting explosion will clear the interference enough for us to target the remains directly.”
“With the reactor removed, we will not have the capacity to fire the dimensional hammer.”
“Reconfigure it,” said Light Gloom. “Connect it to our central reactor.”
“I recommend against that,” said Phosphorescence. “The N689 uses a multifocal crystal-inversion drive. Our reactor is not compatible.”
“I have performed the base calculations. It has the capacity to power the device.”
“Even if it does,” said Luminescence, “I agree with my sister. The risk of a feedback overload is high.”
“We can take steps to mediate it,” said Light Gloom. “But even in the event of feedback, we will still have accomplished our mission. Or should we not be willing to make that sacrifice?”
The pair did not answer. Light Gloom took this to mean that they disagreed with him. This would most likely not matter, of course. He had almost as much faith in the cultists as he did in the Goddess herself; he was sure that they would find a way to keep both ships intact.
“It will take time,” said Luminescence at last.
“How long?”
“I cannot be sure. It has never been done before. But extrapolating based on an itemized list, two to five days.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“That gives us time to evacuate Twilight Sparkle from the planet. Prepare a ship. We will send for her. I would rather not have her on the planet when we atomize it.”
Phosphorescence spoke. “My analysis of the ship’s records and encrypted database indicate that the Goddess left specific instructions that no living ponies were to set hoof on the planet.”
“Then make sure the agents we send to fetch her are very obviously remni. We do not want to alarm her. Convincing her will best be accomplished if all parties involved remain calm and logical.”
“Do you think it will be difficult to convince her to return?”
“The Goddess has selected a different path than expected. I cannot guarantee that her goals are in line with her Will.”
“And if she does not return willingly?” asked Luminescence.
“We must hope it does not come to that. But the solution should be self-apparent.”
“I see,” said Luminescence.
“And the ponies she is with?”
Light Gloom paused. “That is something more nebulous,” he said. “I cannot yet interpret their potential role. I do not have enough data. Your thoughts?”
“They cannot be allowed to breed,” said Luminescence flatly. “Their genetics represent a failed path of evolution. I suggest leaving them on the planet.”
“I agree, with notes,” said Phosphorescence. “Their reproduction is a threat, but leaving them will agitate the Goddess. I will outfit the remni with surgical equipment. We can sterilize them on the surface, and then return them.”
“So be it,” said Light Gloom. “Although I am not as charitable in opinion as you are.”
“And your opinion is, then?”
“Again,” he said, “that should be self-evident.” Z
The pain was steadily increasing. Every step closer to the cursed castle made Twilight’s body burn more and more. She was able to hide it, though. The sickness it brought had still not reached its peak. Her mark remained stable and unchanged, but she could feel the horrible sensation of something about to happen.
If the others noticed it as well, they did not show it. Their progress was slow but steady. They pushed through the snow and rocky landscape, glancing around in awe about as often as they observed the world around them with fear and apprehension. They would talk, and Pinkie Pie would joke. Rainbow Dash would periodically return, each time looking more and more winded and ill. Twilight had asked her to stop racing ahead, but she had refused to give up her role as the group’s scout.
Twilight began to fall to the back of the group. It was not because she was tired or weakening- -her immortal body did neither- -but because of the pain.
“Silken,” she said.
“It has started,” observed the remnus, speaking quietly enough to be discreet.
“Yeah.”
There was no hesitation. Twilight winced as the sharpened point of one of Silken’s hooves was inserted into her neck, and she gritted her teeth as she felt the tip shift and expand, stretching out into her to find a vein. She knew it had when a cold and unpleasant sensation began to wash over her.
“Better?” said Silken, removing the hypodermic needle and shaking off the coating of gold fluid that covered it before reassembling her normal hoof.
“I can deal with it,” said Twilight. “Thanks, Silken.”
Twilight trotted forward to rejoin the group.
“Everypony okay?” she asked, smiling to mask her ever-increasing pain.
“This certainly is a pretty landscape,” said Rarity. “If a bit…bleak. But in all honesty I am starting to get just a tiny bit tired. Is there any chance we can stop for a rest?”
“No,” said Twilight without hesitation. “It’s like walking though the everfree. If you stop…”
“You get eaten,” said Fluttershy.
“And I bet we taste realllllly good,” said Pinkie Pie. “Especially you, Fluttershy.”
“Why me?”
“All that flutter butter!”
“But can’t we just have the bus meet us here?” Rarity was almost whining.
“No,” said Twilight. “The atmosphere of this planet is almost impossible to penetrate, and running a shuttle reactor on this planet would be an extreme challenge. I had to teleport down for that very reason.”
“So…?”
“So, they can only navegate to very specific areas.”
“No sense in complaining,” said Applejack. “It’s just a walk. Besides, Rarity, a little exercise will do you some good.”
“Excuse me?! I am not fat!”
“I didn’t say that!” said Applejack, defensively. “But you’re body’s squishier than a fresh marshmallow. You’ve got to firm up!”
“Oh, like you?”
“Maybe.”
“Applejack. I’m a seamstress! My body is made for detail! Not for crushing rocks.”
“I don’t crush rocks.”
“I do!” said Pinkie. “That’s what rock candy is made out of!”
“I don’t think that’s supposed to be the case,” muttered Fluttershy.
“Hey, it’s better than the alternative.”
“Which is?” asked Applejack.
“Well, either we crush rocks…or rocks crush US.”
“That’s a false equivalency!” shouted Silken from several meters back.
Before Twilight could stop their squabbling, Rainbow Dash suddenly dashed into view. She dropped to the ground immediately, stumbling slightly as she attempted to hide the fact that she was shaking. She did not look healthy. Her eyes had grown sunken, and her color was graying rapidly.
“Rainbow,” said Applejack. “You really don’t look good.”
“I look awesome,” muttered Rainbow Dash as she suppressed a small cough. “But I don’t have time to list the reasons. I found something.”
“A monster?” cried Fluttershy, softly.
“No.”
“Then what?” asked Applejack.
“You’ve got to see it. Come on!”
The ponies stopped at the base of one of the carved stones. Those who had not seen them before looked up in amazement while Silken observed passively and Twilight considered the amount of pain she was about to be in. The stones of the ring extended outward in both directions. Many of them had collapsed, shattered by frost and weathering, but many still stood, either alone or overgrown by the roots of the trees that had taken tens of thousands of years to grow but that had only been saplings when these stones were planted alongside them.
They had all weathered, and in almost every case whatever might once have adorned the markers had long-since eroded into nothingness. By some strange stroke of luck, though, the one that they stood before still showed the shadows of what it had once contained. Why this was the case was unclear: this stone might have been newer, perhaps a replacement, or it could have been carved deeper than the others, or perhaps trapped in ice or even a tree while its siblings had decayed in the elements.
Whatever shape remained on it, though, was lost on all of the ponies who observed it. The culture that had created these markers had been so different that their symbolism and assumption of form were incomprehensible. Whether they had even possessed the capacity for sight was even debatable. To Twilight, though, the image resembled a highly angular representation of a quadruped surrounded by what had once been a complex circular motif.
The ponies stared at it for a long time, with Pinkie Pie repeatedly tilting her head from one side to the other.
“Twilight,” said Applejack, finally breaking the silence and causing all of the others to jump. “Now, I’m an apple farmer, not a mason, but…these aren’t natural rocks, are they?”
“No,” said Twilight.
Rainbow Dash gulped. “So…somepony made these?”
“Not ‘somepony’. Just ‘someone’. I told you. Civilizations have risen and fallen since we’ve been gone. I have no idea what the creatures that built these looked like, or why.”
“But what happened to them?” asked Fluttershy.
“On the other side,” said Silken, “there is an abandoned city. Massive. And entirely empty.”
“What do you mean ‘other side’?” asked Applejack.
“The stones. They progress in a circle. Look.” Silken pointed. “You can see the curvature. Well, I can see it.”
“I noticed that too,” said Rainbow Dash. “It’s really obvious from above.”
“But why build a circle?” asked Applejack. “Now, I don’t know what kind of critters built these things, but those are some BIG pieces of granite. Carving that stuff goes slower than Rainbow Dash the morning after cider day.”
“Hey!”
“Darling, it IS true,” whispered Rarity.
“So why build a big circle?” continued Applejack.
“It may have had some religious purpose,” said Twilight.
“Or it was a warning,” suggested Fluttershy.
“I don’t know,” said Pinkie Pie, now lying on her back and observing the stone completely upside down. “It looks to me more like Starlight Glimmer dancing on a cake. But that’s ridiculous! Cake’s don’t support ponies.” She paused. “I should know. I used to work for them! Teehee!”
“Is there a way around?” asked Fluttershy.
“Yes,” said Silken. “There is.”
“Then can we take that?”
“Twilight or I could. You would not make it. None of you would.”
“Oh…”
“They’re just rocks,” said Rainbow Dash. “I mean, come on! Whoever built these is LONG gone by now.” She paused and rubbed her chin in thought. “But then again…that’s almost always the case in Daring Do, and we all know how THAT usually goes…”
“I don’t think I want to know,” said Fluttershy.
“This isn’t Daring Do,” groaned Applejack. She separated from the others and trotted forward. “If this is the way we have to go, then we aren’t going to get anything done just sittin’ here, are we?”
“I’m standing,” said Pinkie Pie. “But I don’t mind rocks at all! They make a goooood soup!”
“No they don’t.”
“Says you!”
Pinkie Pie hopped forward to join Applejack. Twilight knew what would happen when they crossed the threshold, but she did not know how severe it would be. She had elected not to warn them, in case it turned out that they would experience the same agonizing pain that she did.
When they passed through, the pair of them immediately shuddered. Twilight thought that there would be screaming, but instead both Applejack and Pinkie Pie looked back at their flanks. Their cutie marks were glowing and undulating.
“Whoa,” said Applejack. “Would you look at that?”
“Tingly!” giggled Pinkie Pie.
“Oh my!” said Rarity. “Your cutie marks!”
“The Map,” said Applejack. “Do you think it’s really still here?”
Hesitantly, Rarity stepped past the ring of stones. As she did, she reassembled her skirt into a long dress with a rather substantial side-split that left her flank visible. Her mark began to glow and hum as well.
“No way!” said Rainbow Dash. “When was the last time it called THREE ponies? Hold on!” She picked up Fluttershy, who released a loud squeak of displeasure. Rainbow Dash then carried her to the others. Both of their marks began to glow as well.
“Oh wow,” said Rainbow Dash. “I almost forgot what that feels like! It kind of feels good…”
They looked up at Twilight, who was still on the outside with Silken.
“Darling?” said Rarity, sounding concerned. “Aren’t you coming?”
“I don’t know if I can,” said Twilight.
“What do you mean by that?”
“I passed this area when I came through the first time. I had a really bad reaction.”
“How bad is bad?” asked Applejack.
“Bad.”
“But we’re not having any problems right now.”
“Speak for yourself!” laughed Pinkie Pie. She had fallen to the ground and was rolling on the floor. “I can’t stop giggling! It tickles! It tickles SO BAD!”
“But that doesn’t make sense!” said Rainbow Dash. “It’s fine for us!”
“Trust me. I already tried. I think it’s because the Map has been trying to reach me for so long. Centuries, millennia, I don’t know. It’s weak. The signal can’t get off the planet.” Twilight pointed at the stone ring. “The most intense part of its range is in there. Whoever built this probably sensed it. My castle is at the exact center of this ring.”
The other ponies looked at each other, concerned. Even Pinkie Pie stopped giggling.
“We can’t leave you here,” said Rarity. “That simply would not do.”
“You can take Silken.”
Silken smiled and stepped past the rocks. As a remnus, she did not have a cutie mark. Even if she had, there was no way that the Map would be summoning her. “I am not sensitive to magic,” she explained. “And I am capable of leading you to the extraction point.”
“No,” said Applejack.
“No,” said Silken, “I certainly am- -”
“It’s not what she means,” said Rainbow Dash. “We’re not leaving Twilight behind.”
“You have to,” said Twilight. “I just told you. I can’t go on.”
“Well, then, it looks like we’re living right here,” said Applejack. “I bet bits to biscuits I can build us a nice house out of all the fallen wood around here.” She looked at the others.
Rainbow Dash shrugged. “I needed to rest anyway. I haven’t had a nap in, like, four hours. Except for the one or two I took when was scouting.”
“I don’t really want to leave anyway,” said Fluttershy. “Space travel just sounds so very stressful. And there’s so many animals! Even if there are…monsters…”
“Yeah,” said Pinkie Pie, still giggling a little from her tickling mark. “I can’t leave you either. I already lost everything.” Her expression grew a bit darker. “I don’t have a lot of ponies left. I can’t just leave one.”
They all looked at Rarity. Rarity looked a bit more distressed than the others, but quickly regained her composure. “I very dearly want to enter society,” she said. “I need to. The idea of living in a forest eating roots and…crabapples…is certainly tantalizing, but I…I just…”
“You can’t be left alone with your thoughts,” said Twilight.
Rarity looked at her, and then at the others. “There’s a whole world out there. New fasion, new ponies, so much beauty.”
“You can go if you want,” said Applejack.
“I do want to,” said Rarity. “But I can’t leave Twilight here.”
Twilight blinked, feeling tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “Rarity, you can’t! You can’t give all that up for me!”
“Tut-tut! I can do whatever I please! After all, I am the very last unicorn in existence! That puts me at the very top of our hierarchy! My decision is final, don’t try to change it!”
“Silken,” said Twilight. “Remove them.”
“Denied,” said Silken.
“Wh- -what did you just say to me?!”
“Request denied.”
“I gave you an order! You have to do it!”
“I cannot force ponies to do something they do not want to. Well, I could, but it would be unfortunate. And they would hate me. I must acquiesce to the current consensus.”
“You would be defying both me and the captain! You’re a remnus, you exist to do what you’re told!”
“Unless I have been lying to you.”
Twilight groaned loudly.
“We’re not leaving without you,” said Applejack.
“Yeah!” said Pinkie. The others agreed heartily.
“You know what?” said Twilight, angrily. “Fine! Fine! I’ll show you what happens when I get close to the castle! THEN let’s see how you feel!”
She charged her horn and cast a shield spell around herself. It was the best she could do, even if it was profoundly weak compared to what she could normally conjure. Then she stepped through.
The reaction was immediate. She felt it in her horn. The shield spell began to compress, and then buckle. Twilight’s friends watched in fear and shock as Twilight tried to maintain the strength of the spell, but the pink sphere around her began to collapse.
“Twilight, stop!” cried Rarity. “You’re going to hurt yourself!”
“This is the only way I can get through,” said Twilight, taking a deep breath and trying to regain her control over the magical shield. “If I can keep this up, I can- -”
The bubble popped. Even at full power, Twilight would not have been able to maintain it for more than a few minutes. The effect on her was something like a crushing impact, as though she were in the center of an explosion coming from all sides. The pain was even worse than she had imagined it would be.
Twilight screamed and collapsed on the ground. Her cutie mark was glowing and pulsating, and every slight motion it made was agonizing.
“Twilight!” cried Rainbow Dash. She and the other ponies raced toward the injured alicorn, even though there was nothing that they could do- -except that when they drew closer, the intensity of the pain changed. For a moment, it lessened.
Then, suddenly, there was a feeling as though the pressure was lifted. It produced an almost audible boom, and Twilight gasped from the sudden shock. Her cutie mark stopped glowing, as did those of the ponies around her. She was left lying in the snow, shaking and sweating.
“Twilight! Twilight!” Rainbow Dash helped pick her up, but for some reason she was far weaker than Twilight had remembered.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” cried Applejack. “I didn’t know! Twilight, I promise, I didn’t know!”
“It’s alright,” said Twilight, gasping for breath. “It…it’s gone.” She looked around at them. Five pairs of concerned pony eyes stared back at her. “Something about all of you being here. I think…” She paused, trying to consider the implications through her still reeling mind. “That it wanted us all here.”
“Then we have to go find it,” said Fluttershy.
The others all looked at her. “I agree,” said Applejack. “If the map called us, we need to see why.”
“No,” said Twilight. “We can’t go there. We need to go straight through, and get to the extraction point.”
Even as Rainbow Dash helped her up, though, she knew that there was no hope of convincing them otherwise. The Map had called them all, just like it had so long ago. They would go, and Twilight could not stop them. Twilight herself was curious as well, and she would follow them if they so chose- -even if it meant facing her darkest fears.
It did not take them long to reach it. In fact, it took far shorter than Twilight would have thought possible. Though her friends were tiring, they seemed to be moving faster; she felt herself moving more rapidly as well. It was as though it were drawing them in. Silken did not even need to show them the path toward it: they all already knew.
Then, at last, they reached the clearing. It was still just as it had been: the enormous, tree-like crystal castle emerging from a space of land that instead of bearing ice and strange moss was still covered in ancient grass and flowers. The trees overhead still formed the same canopy as before, but since by this time the day was growing darker, the light primarily came from long, luminescent, winged worms that swam slowly through the air overhead.
“It’s still here,” said Applejack in awe. “Well, I’ll be bucked ‘till my apples fall off…”
Pinkie Pie looked behind them. “That’s the front of the castle,” she said, her voice holding no hint of humor. That means…that’s Ponyville. Over there.”
They all looked in the direction she was pointing. Nothing about it was recognizable. The land had shifted and been overgrown by trees; where the trees did not stand, there were jagged rocks that had been placed there by receding glaciers. Still, Twilight felt herself remembering. She recalled the buildings that had once stood there, and the good times she had had amongst them.
“I don’t like this,” said Twilight.
“But it’s your home,” said Fluttershy.
“It was once. It isn’t anymore. I don’t have a home. I have an Empire.”
“Well, it’s getting dark,” said Applejack, “and Rainbow Dash isn’t looking so good.”
“For the last time, I look- -” She started coughing. When she finished, she wiped something yellow away from the corner of her mouth, “- -awesome.”
“Darling, you just need to rest,” said Rarity. “I certainly need to. Ideally in a bed. Assuming those survived as well as the castle itself.”
They started to approach, but Twilight remained behind for a moment. Silken tapped her shoulder.
“Are you sure you are going to be okay?”
“No,” said Twilight. “There’s a reason I abandoned this castle. And If I’m right…”
“About what?”
“Nothing,” said Twilight, following her friends. “If anything, you were right.”
“I am always right.” Silken paused. “About what in this particular sense, though?”
“The Map. We can use it to find Cadence.”
“I thought you were going to stay with your friends.”
“If we can recover the remains quickly, I won’t need to make that choice.”
“And if you can’t?”
“Twilight!” called Pinkie. “Hurry up! We’ve already come to the conclusion that the last pony there is a rotten egg! And you don’t want to be a rotten egg!”
“Do not be the egg,” said Silken, drifting forward toward the ponies. “Go with them. Enjoy what time you have with them, before I take them back to the Empire.”
Twilight paused, allowing Silken to move forward a few steps, and then spread her wings. She flew with no joy and no exceptional speed, but quickly reached the castle. She was the first one there, which surprised her. She had expected Rainbow Dash to be the first.
The others arrived in a few seconds. Rainbow Dash, it seemed, was the rotten egg. She was breathing hard, and had not been able to fly.
“I have drugs that may help,” said Silken. The others jumped and cried out; Silken had approached them in absolute silence.
“Gah!” cried Applejack. “Where did you come from?!”
“Twilight’s niece,” said Silken. “But, drugs!”
“What kind of drugs?”
“Helpful ones.” She produced a small pellet for Rainbow Dash.
“Oh,” said Rainbow Dash, taking the pellet and putting it in her mouth. “Thanthakta”
“What did you just say?” asked Twilight.
“I said thanks,” said Rainbow Dash, looking confused and vaguely concerned. “I mean, I’m supposed to be polite, right?”
Something high above them seemed to make a sound. It was long and low, but it was impossible to tell how far away it had been. It seemed far, and because of that, Twilight could not decide if it was just some normal sound inherent to this forest, or if it was something far worse.
“We should probably go inside,” said Fluttershy.
“But how are we supposed to get in?” asked Rainbow Dash.
“Oh, that’s not a problem!” Pinkie bounced forward toward the door, pushing away the vines that had overgrown it. “Twilight never locks her door! See?” She gave the large crystal door a push, and with a long creak it swung open.
“What?” said Twilight. “I do too lock my doors!”
“Well, obviously,” said Pinkie Pie, stepping slowly and obviously through the now quite open door. “I mean, you’re a Princess! It just wouldn’t make ANY sense for you to let it stay unlocked, so that, you know, random evil ponies can just wander in and touch your stuff.”
“Oh yeah! Well, I’ll- -I’ll touch your stuff!”
“Don’t make this weird, Twilight,” said Applejack as she stepped into the dark castle.
Twilight was about to retort, but then suddenly blushed and fell silent. The group of them then entered, with Silken having to duck slightly to avoid hitting her head on the upper frame.
Inside, the conditions were exactly what Twilight had imagined, even though they should have been impossible. The castle had stood longer than any building should have been able to, and the hallways within had not changed in the slightest since then. Neither the wars of ancient time nor the apocalyptic shifting of the earth in more recent ages had altered it in the slightest. All that had changed was the fact that it was dark and cold, and extremely dusty.
“Oh my,” said Rarity, pulling her hoof back from a small pile of dirt.
“No pony has cleaned it in a very long time,” said Twilight. “You’ll have to make do for now.”
“It’s not what she means,” said Applejack.
“No,” admitted Rarity. “It’s just that…I was just here, Twilight. Two days ago. Well, not really…but to me. I had brought you a set of dresses for your upcoming diplomatic visit to Saddle Arabia. It was clean, and shiny, and simply spectacular! But now…”
“I guess Spike took a loooong vacation,” said Pinkie Pie.
“Dragons went extinct long before the Exodus,” said Twilight. “By the time I left this planet, none were alive.”
The others fell silent, except for Rarity. “Not…not Spike…”
“Even dragons are not immortal. Only alicorns are. Only we have to live forever.” Twilight sighed. “I have not been in this castle for a great deal of time. More than you could imagine. I abandoned it after what happened to Starlight. I just…I couldn’t bear to bring myself back here.”
“It’s okay,” said Fluttershy. “We won’t stay long.”
“I need to see the Map,” said Twilight. “But I don’t remember the way.”
“S…sure,” said Applejack, attempting to regain her composure. “We can show you. It’s this way.”
Twilight followed them. As they left the dim light cast through the door, the halls began to grow increasingly dark. Rarity and Twilight both lit their horns, and Silken activated her lights. The crystal of the walls shimmered in the light, even if it was covered in ages of grime and dust. As they walked, the ponies left hoofprints in the thick dust.
All around them was silence, save for the distant sound of wind as it passed over the structure. None of them talked. This place felt strange, and although it had called them they still disliked it in unison. It had grown old, and although it still stood its power was fading as it grew more and more decrepit. They were not afraid when they saw it, but instead, it made them sad.
The silence was only interrupted by a small, thin snap. The others looked confused, but Twilight instantly knew what it was. She closed her eyes, because she had been right.
“Bones,” said Applejack as Rarity pointed her horn light toward the skeletons that lay across the floor. “These- -these are bones!”
All of the ponies suddenly became agitated, especially Fluttershy. Several skeletons sat before them, still wearing the long-decayed remnants of metal and stone armor. They were quite clearly the bones of ponies.
“Oh my,” said Rarity as she started to swoon. “What…what happened here?”
“What is this?!” demanded Applejack, turning sharply to Twilight. “What happened here?”
“Yeah,” said Pinkie Pie, forcing a laugh even though she looked terrified. “These- -these should be in a closet, Twilight. N…not on the floor…”
Twilight opened her eyes and sighed. “I predicted that this might have happened.”
“Have happened? Twilight, those are ponies!”
“They were ponies. Once.” Twilight picked up a femur, and gave it to Pinkie Pie. She initially resisted, backing away. “Pinkie,” said Twilight. “You’re an expert in rocks and fossils. What can you tell me about this?”
“I’m- -I’m not that much of an expert. M- -Maud was always better at that sort of thing- -”
“How old would you say this is?”
“I- -I don’t know! But there are signs of fossilization, so…”
Twilight dropped the bone. “These were ponies who did not escape during the Exodus. Ones I left behind.”
“Left behind!” Applejack seemed intensely offended by this. “You left ponies BEHIND? Twilight, you said that the world was just about burnt up!”
“Yeah!” said Rainbow Dash. “Twilight, no, you’re joking! You would never do that! You just couldn’t!”
“What was I supposed to do?” said Twilight calmly. She stared back at her friends with a neutral expression. “This planet had burned up all of its resources. It took everything we had to build the original arks. At that time, Equestria’s population was ten billion. I only had enough ships to take one hundred million.”
“But that means…”
“It means that I had to choose. Luna was comatose, and Celestia would not leave her side. It would have destroyed Flurry Heart. The responsibility fell to me. And I did what I had to. I chose which one percent of the population got to live, and which ones had to stay behind.”
“Twilight…”
“You have no idea what that was like.” She pointed at the bones. “These ponies, they must have come here. The planet was freezing, toxic, this was the only place they could find safety. They might have survived one, maybe two generations. And the whole time, they would have cursed my name. They hated me more than any pony has ever been hated.”
“My father was descended from those you saved,” said Silken. “As was my daughter. They would not have existed if you had not rescued our ancestors.”
“But I couldn’t do enough,” said Twilight. She looked down at one of the skeletons. Its front leg was wrapped around a skeleton with a much smaller skull. “And that’s something I have to live with. Forever.” She looked up at her friends. “This whole planet is a cemetery. You could dig anywhere in the ground, and you would find the ponies I couldn’t save.”
“That’s all in the past,” said Fluttershy. “Please, Twilight, please don’t blame yourself!”
“Yeah,” said Rainbow Dash. “Don’t beat yourself up about it! If you tried your absolute hardest and did your very best, you don’t need to have any regrets.”
“Immortality is nothing but regret,” said Twilight. She stepped gingerly around the bones of the ponies who had come to her castle seeking the shelter that she had not given them. “Please, let’s just make this quick. This place has a lot of bad memories for me.”
The others followed her, and they were sure to stay close. Twilight wondered if they would have been so accommodating if they knew that leaving nine point nine billion ponies behind during the Exodus was only the second worst thing she had ever done.
None of them noticed the tall, dark figure that moved silently through a perpendicular hallway, pausing only for a moment to watch them as they passed.
The Map room was exactly as Twilight had left it. It was a large, dome shaped room that stood completely empty save for the map in the center and the crystal chairs that surrounded it. The chairs, like everything else, were covered in thick dust. The Map, though, remained as crisp and clear as it had been on the day Twilight had first seen it. A dull blue glow filled the room, and even from a distance Twilight could see the tiny holographic representations of mountains and lakes.
The ponies approached it in awe and looked at the representation. Even Silken seemed to be impressed by the detail.
“Oh my,” said Rarity. “It doesn’t look anything like it used to!”
“Look!” said Rainbow Dash, pointing. The others had already seen what she was referring to, though. Floating above the castle were six insignias. Five cutie marks orbited around one; it was the result of the map calling to them. As Twilight watched, the marks faded and vanished.
“It was calling us here,” said Fluttershy.
“I think it was just calling,” said Twilight. “Hoping that it would find somepony. I guess it did. After all this time.” She did not pause much longer. She began to cast a spell to interface herself to the map. She was horrified at how little power the map still had left in it, but there was enough. A grid appeared over the map of what Equestria had become, and she began her search.
“What are you doing?” asked Applejack.
“There’s something I need to find,” said Twilight, refusing to elaborate. “The Map can help me find it.”
“But shouldn’t we help with the friendship problem here, first?”
“We’re the only ponies here. Is anypony here having a friendship problem.”
Silken raised a pointed hoof. “I feel like I sometimes have trouble interacting with others.”
“Oh, darling, you’re fine,” said Rarity.
“Oh,” said Silken, lowering her hoof. “Never mind, then. Rarity say’s its fine.”
The map flickered slightly. “Darn it,” swore Twilight. “The power supply is really, really low.”
“Well, yeah,” said Pinkie Pie. “It’s probably leaking out of the cables.”
“Cables?” Twilight looked up. “What cables?”
Pinkie Pie pointed. “Cables on the table.”
At first, Twilight though that Pinkie Pie was making a joke. Then she tilted her head and looked around the edge of the map and, to her great surprise, saw a pair of thick, rusty conduit cables linked to it.
“What in Equestria…” She approached them. They were a flexible type, but they had badly rusted. They were indeed very old.
Fluttershy approached them from the other side, and then looked up at Twilight. “Didn’t you say you were using the map to provide power to your spell?”
“Backup processing,” corrected Twilight, “and I did. But those cables were vaporized when the spell failed. And they wouldn’t have lasted this long…”
“So what are you saying?”
“Somepony installed these here. Much, much later.” Curiosity overtook her, and she began to follow the cables. The others joined her, although they probably did not really understand the significance of what these long conduits meant.
“They do not appear to be active,” said Silken. “They are not currently draining the Map.”
“I know,” said Twilight. “Whatever they were for is no longer functional.”
“Perhaps those other ponies built it?” suggested Rarity.
“No,” said Twilight. “They would not have had the knowledge necessary. Very few ponies understood enough about the magic of the Map to actually be able to use it.”
The rusted, decayed cables led down a long hallway and up a set of stairs. That was where they suddenly stopped. They appeared to have been jaggedly cut, and lay on the floor inert. Twilight stared at them for a moment, and then looked up at a wide door that was partially ajar. Her blood suddenly felt cold as she realized where she was.
“That’s the library,” said Applejack. “Do you think any of the books are still in there?”
“They aren’t,” said Twilight. “We need to go.”
“Go? Why? Twilight, this is your castle. There isn’t anything dangerous here.”
“Except all those bones,” said Pinkie Pie. “I guess you could slip. Or maybe even trip.”
“That was where we conducted the spell,” said Twilight, turning away from the door. “Starlight, Trixie and I. All those years ago. It’s were Starlight…” She could not bring herself to finish the sentence, and just shook her head. “I never went back into that room again. Not even to collect a book. Or the books that were left. We did it in there so that we would have access to the notes we needed. And…there was nothing left. Nothing but a hemispherical hole in the floor. The floor, parts of the shelves, Starlight…they all got vaporized.”
“It doesn’t look like a hole to me,” said Pinkie Pie.
Twilight whirled around to see that Pinkie had opened the door and put her head through. “Pinkie!”
“What! It’s true!”
Twilight rushed forward, intending to close the door to the room- -but she froze when she saw that Pinkie Pie had been right. In the light of her horn, Twilight could see that the characteristic hole that had haunted her dreams for so long was not present. The floor was not quite normal, though; there was a circular pattern where the hole had been, and a rim around it where the floor within the hole was higher than the rest. As if it there had been a hole, and it had been filled with a perfectly shape hemisphere of crystal that had been dropped in crooked, leaving a lip on one side and a dropoff on the other.
“Wh…what?” gasped Twilight. She stepped into the room, her hooves clicking on the crystal floor. “This isn’t possible!” She looked around, but it was. There were parts of the shelves that should have been gone, now separated from the others as though they had been cut and then replaced.
The others filed in. They all stared at the strange circular pattern at the floor. Silken, though, stopped suddenly. “This room has an unusual degree of residual magical resonance.”
“This doesn’t make sense,” said Twilight, stepping onto the part of the floor that was supposed to be missing. “This whole area, it was all gone!”
“Well,” said Pinkie Pie, “it’s here now.”
Twilight looked down, still deeply confused- -and spied a crystal. She approached it and observed it without picking it up. It was clear and perfectly formed, and the same color as the castle overall. Despite this, however, it did not appear to have broken free from any part of the ceiling, floor, or walls. In fact, it seemed to have been placed there.
Carefully, Twilight picked it up in her magic. As soon as she did, she immediately understood. She spread her wings and jumped back, watching as the crystal continued to hover in the center of the room.
Suddenly, the darkness of the library was purged by a surge of bright light. In the center of the room, some of the light took on a blue hue and assembled itself into the shape of a pony. The shape then rapidly tightened, and a hologram of Starlight Glimmer appeared before them.
“St…starlight!” cried Twilight.
“Twilight! What’s going on?!” cried Rarity from behind.
“It’s a recording crystal,” said Twilight. “It responded to my magic when I picked it up, it’s playing back whatever was put on it, I didn’t mean to- -”
The recording of Starlight suddenly spoke. “Finally,” she said with great relief. All the ponies turned to her. She looked just as she had when they had known her, although dirtier and with her hair more disheveled than usual. “It’s actually working! It took me the better part of the day to find a piece of castle that I could cut into a proper memory crystal. It’s not exactly easy, these things need to be magnificent quality or higher.” Her relief faded, and she looked around. “That said, this is bad. Really, really bad. Somethings wrong. I can’t find Twilight. Or anypony, for that matter. The whole castle’s empty. And on the first floor…” She paused, and then shook her head. “Nevermind. The last thing I remember is the oracle spell entering an amplification cascade. The spell’s calculation parameters grew exponentially, we couldn’t keep up. Trixie got knocked back, and…” She paused again. “I had to direct the spell at myself. That was the only way to contain it. To absorb the full force and attempt to teleport it.”
“Teleport it?” said Twilight, as though Starlight were still there. “At that level of power?! That’s insane- -”
“And it worked. I collapsed the blast into a form of dimensional resonance. But what it did to me…well, I don’t know. I don’t know where I am. It’s the castle, but not the same castle.” She paused for a long time, staring off into the distance. “I think there is a chance that when I absorbed the energy from the spell, I was displaced. But since I’m still in the library…” She turned suddenly toward Twilight, even though there was no way that the hologram was able to see. “…I was displaced in time. Forward, I think. I have no idea how far. It could be a hundred years, or a thousand. I haven’t tried to venture outside yet. It’s cold, and something is wrong with the air. But there’s no food here, and I thought I saw smoke over the horizon. I think there are ponies out there. I’m going to try to find them.
“I’m leaving this crystal behind as a record. In case the others are still out there. Twilight, if you’ve found this, I went west. I’ll come back soon. I’m afraid, but I know this is going to turn out okay.” She smiled. “Everything is going to be alright. I’m sure of it.”
The hologram suddenly fizzled and vanished. The crystal lost its upward lift, and fell. Twilight caught it before it could slam on the floor and crack, protecting it in her magic like it was the greatest treasure she had ever held. Only then did she realize that she was crying.
“What…was that?” asked Rainbow Dash, softly.
“I thought…for all this time I thought I had lost her.” Twilight turned toward them, unsure if she was supposed to smile. “The spell. I thought it had vaporized her. If it had been any other pony, it would have, but she found a way! She survived!” Twilight pointed at the floor. “This, she pulled it forward in time. She rode out the energy of the spell like a wave until it put her right back where she started!”
“That may be true,” said Silken, “but there is no guarantee that she came to THIS time. That record is stored in crystal. It could be hundreds of thousands of years old.”
“Or she could still be out there.”
“No,” said Silken. “She is not. You know what is west.”
Twilight’s heart sank. “The dead city…”
Silken nodded. “Your friend survived, but no doubt lived out the rest of her life in this world. However long that may have been. I am sorry.”
“Don’t be,” muttered Twilight. She let out a long sigh. “I shouldn’t have been optimistic.” She looked up at her friends. “Let’s get back to the Map.”
They returned to it, but they did not speak much. Twilight was more focused on a chain of thoughts that she knew was ultimately fruitless. She knew that, logically, Silken was right. If Starlight had indeed emerged when the now long-abandoned civilization was in its heyday- -or perhaps the civilization before it, or even when there were still living ponies that walked Equestria- -she would surely have long-since passed. Emotionally, though, this was a challenge to one of the most formative events in her life. It challenged a fundamental pillar of her being. Her own failure had not resulted in the demise of her friend, at least not in the way she had intended. It was the fact that she had never returned to collect Starlight that had left her to live out her life all alone.
Because of this, Twilight took several steps into the central Map room before she ground to a slow halt. The other ponies did as well; Twilight had only slowed because they had. It took her a moment to realize why, though, and to understand why each of them suddenly looked so afraid.
The room had grown dim, and as Twilight looked up she realized it was because an object had been placed between her and the glow of the map. On closer inspection, though, she realized that it was not an object at all, but a figure. For one brief, ecstatic moment Twilight found herself seeing Starlight. For an infinitesimal fraction of a second, she even saw her old friend standing there. She would turn around with a smile on her face and greet them, and then explain how she had come to be here with a sense of unintentional condescendence.
Except it was not Starlight. What stood looking at the table was indeed a pony of some sort, but she was far too tall. Not tall in the way Silken or the Empire alicorns were, though. They were narrow and elongated, while this figure was simply large.
For a moment, Twilight was unable to move. She had been frozen to one spot as adrenaline raced through her body. The figure did not appear to notice that others had entered the room, or to care. It was watching the map below, facing away from the others.
“Who…who is that?” whispered Rarity.
“I don’t know,” said Fluttershy. “But we need to leave. Right now!”
Instead, Twilight stepped forward. The others fell silent as the tension in the room suddenly began to rise.
“Hello?” she said.
The figure did not respond. As Twilight grew closer, she started to see the armor that covered the figure’s body. Plates and machinery of various sizes, much of it rusted but a few pieces painted midnight black. It had been worn for a long time, but was well made by the pony who had created it.
“Excuse me,” said Twilight. “My name is Twilight Sparkle. I…I’m afraid I don’t know who you are. If you don’t mind, I’d like to greet you. Maybe we can even help each other- -”
Part of the figure shifted. A set of three long, flesh-colored tentacles emerged from slits in the rear part of its armor, beneath where its spine was covered in a number of long, organic spikes. The tentacles reached out behind the creature. Their bulbous ends then opened into madly grinning mouths, their needle-like teeth dripping with dark saliva. Inside each of the mouths was a single, violet-irised eye.
A low, warbling groan escaped the figure. Then she turned. Her motions were strange; they were fast and almost mechanical, performed with an insect-like precision that indicated a mind that ran at a far higher pace than any pony’s ever could.
Then Twilight saw the face of the creature, and she heard screaming from behind her. This thing, though shaped like a pony, was not. Where a head should have been, it wore a grotesque mask of carved structum that vaguely resembled the face of a pony. There were no holes for a mouth, or eyes: instead, the surface of the side of the mask was overgrown with flesh covered in numerous eyes of various sizes. All were violet in color, and all had horizontal pupils- -but as Twilight watched, the eyes turned in their sockets, forcing the pupils to become vertical, narrow slits.
A deep sound emerged from its body, one of impossible volume but at a frequency that Twilight could only barely hear it. Then the creature spoke. It did not have just one voice, but rather many speaking all at once. They seemed to come from every part of its body, with some even coming from far below its armor. Almost all of them sounded as though they were choking on something wet but far thicker than water.
“Vortog,” it said with great difficulty. “Plath idena…thanthakta.”
It then screamed. The sound was horrible, filled with pain and absolute hatred. As Twilight watched, flesh burst form the rear of the creature’s body, rapidly forming four long wings that sprouted with violet feathers. Then it raced forward, reaching for Twilight.
Silken moved quickly. Twilight barely saw her move: one moment she was at the rear of the room, and the next she had interposed herself between Twilight and the creature. She braced herself against the floor, which suddenly cracked under her extreme weight as she deactivated her internal gravity centrifuge. Silken then leaned into the creature, intending to shoulder-check it.
The creature struck her, but it did not slow. Its body seemed to splatter, disassembling itself into snake-like tendrils of flesh and chunks of unidentifiable machinery. These poured over Silken’s body, crawling over her and emerging on the far side. They immediately reformed into a unified, quadrupedal body, ignoring the fact that any sort of obstacle had been in their way.
“Twilight!” cried Silken. “I cannot touch it! It will not let me!”
“Great,” muttered Twilight. She stepped forward and raised a shield. The creature stopped suddenly at the sight of the violet light, and Twilight began to modulate power away from the shield to prepare an attack. Her power was still limited; she could not perform both spells at once.
The creature did not hesitate. It reacted as though it had known what she was attempting to do, and before Twilight could react a narrow armor-plated robotic limb struck her from below. The already compromised shield spell shattered, and the feedback knocked Twilight backward several feet and into Rarity.
“Twilight!” cried Rarity, catching her friend.
“Run!” said Twilight. “Get out of here!”
The creature stepped forward, moving its wings as though it were preparing to pounce. When it saw Rarity, though, it stopped. Every one of its eyes turned to her, and it stood perfectly still. Rarity squeaked in discomfort.
Then the creature spoke, with even more difficulty than before. “Rare- -ITY!” it said. It then screamed and struck out at her with one of its hooves.
Rarity squealed and covered her face. She did not have the wherewithal to even attempt to generate a shield spell. Before the blow hit, though, the morphiplasm that covered her body sensed the danger and reacted promptly. It spread across Rarity’s body, instantly covering every inch of her and increasing in density to form heavy, pearl-white armor. The creature did indeed strike Rarity, but with the armor surrounding her body what would have been a catastrophic impact simply threw here backward. She slammed into Pinkie Pie and both ponies collapsed in a heap.
The momentary distraction allowed Twilight to regain some of her composure. She fired a spell at the creature. It shifted, absorbing the blast with a plate of armor on its shoulder- -a plate that Twilight, to her horror, realized was covered in crudely drawn runes. The runes lit up with pink-violet light, and the spell flared without penetrating.
“Well, then, I guess we have to do this the hard way,” said Twilight as she fired a barrage of flare spells into the air. They ignited with blinding light. The creature, with all of its eyes, screamed in pain and stepped back. Before it could react, Twilight was already on top of it. She struck at its chest with her hoof, but found that its armor was too thick for her to do any real damage. That, and the flesh beneath seemed to be made of pure muscle. Still, she recoiled, dodging an attack from a robotic limb and pirouetting on her front limbs to attempt a kick at the creature’s exposed eyes. She succeeded, forcing it back, but in the process left herself open. She was thrown backward by a blow to the chest that made several things inside her snap.
Rainbow Dash caught her. “Holy foal nuggets, Twi!” she cried, “where did you learn how to do that?!”
“I’ve had a lot of time to learn new things,” groaned Twilight as her internal organs began to regenerate from the blow. “And a lot of wars to fight.” She turned to Rarity, who was still more or less cowering. “Rarity! Get in there!”
“M- -ME?!”
“You have the morphiplasm on! Use the power assist!”
“Darkling, I’m a creature of fashion, not violence! I wound’t know the first thing- -”
Twilight reached out with her magic and literally threw Rarity against the creature. Rarity screamed, but the creature hesitated. It did not seem to like to attack ponies that were not Twilight.
“Vortog…plath idena…thanthakta,” it said, turning its face to Rarity, its injury from Twilight’s spell and kick already healed. It reached out from its armor with several long tentacles that rapidly sprouted with spines and blades.
Rarity looked at the creature with her eyes wide, and then closed them. She squealed in panic, and brought her hoof back. As she did, the morphiplasm thickened into a complex robotic assist unit. Rarity slapped the creature. It was the most inefficient sort of attack conceivable, but with the power assist active the impact produced a resounding thud that sent the creature reeling backward.
Silken then attempted to attack again, but to no avail. She struck at the creature, but her hoof simply passed through- -until it stopped halfway. Then the creature disassembled itself, its flesh and armor pushing over Silken’s body until it reassembled behind her. Silken, surprised, was unbalanced. The creature easily pushed her into Rarity. Had Rarity not been wearing the morphiplasm, she would have been crushed.
The creature spread its long violet wings and took to the air. Twilight prepared another spell to take it down, but Rainbow Dash pushed past her.
“Rainbow, get back!” ordered Twilight.
“There’s no way I’m missing this,” she said. “You get back! Get the others out of here!”
“Rainbow, no, don’t- -”
Before Twilight could do anything to stop her, Rainbow Dash shot forward, leaving a rainbow-colored contrail in her wake. She quickly circled the room, drawing the creature’s attention- -and then struck.
The creature cried out in pain and dropped to the floor- -in two pieces. One was an armored leg, now writing and twitching, and the remainder was the creature’s body, which was pouring out a fluorescent yellow fluid from the wound. Even Twilight was surprised; so far, nopony had managed to injure the creature like this.
“Stop!” cried Fluttershy. “Rainbow, this isn’t the way!”
Rainbow Dash either did not hear or did not listen. She circled the room again and struck the creature’s side, sending it tilting onto the side where it only had one leg. It nearly fell, but it remained standing. As Rainbow Dash prepared for a third strike, Twilight saw the creature change. Flesh seeped out from its armor, forming hundreds of eyes that roved and flitted about before trailing Rainbow Dash. Twilight knew what was happening immediately.
“RAINBOW DAH!” she cried. “LOOK OUT!”
It was too late. Rainbow Dash charged the creature, and it dodged. As Rainbow Dash inadvertently sailed past it, a tentacle shot forth from the place where it had been wounded, wrapping itself around Rainbow Dash’s neck.
“Gah!” cried Rainbow Dash as her wings buzzed and she struggled. “Let go of me!”
The creature lifted her, and the tentacle that it had caught Rainbow Dash in began to shift. There was a cracking sound as it formed bones and joints, and as it sprouted fingers. It still held her, but as Twilight watched it became a long, thin arm with narrow pointed fingers around the Pegasus’s neck.
It held her close to her face, and it spoke. “Rainb…ow…DASH! Not the…not the…not real! NOT REAL!”
Without warning, the creature lifted Rainbow Dash and slammed her into the ground.
“NO!” cried Twilight. She started to run forward, but Applejack tackled her from behind. “Let me go!”
“There isn’t anything you can do! Magic, Twilight, use magic!”
Twilight understood, and she tried to aim. It was almost impossible, though. All the spells seemed to have left her a the creature slammed Rainbow Dash into the floor again and again, each time with greater force. The only spells that came to mind were impossible to use without risking hurting Rainbow Dash. For the first time in many centuries, Twilight had drawn a blank.
Rainbow Dash was slammed against the ground again, and then again. The creature kept repeating it until the crystal tiles had cracked. Then it lifted her, and examined what it held. Rainbow Dash had become limp, and her battered wings hung at angles that they were not supposed to bend. Seeming to have lost amusement, the creature threw Rainbow Dash away. She sailed through the air before her back struck one of the crystal chairs that surrounded the Map. There was a loud crack as her back bent around the corner, and Rainbow Dash screamed weakly. Then she dropped to the ground and did not move.
“RAINBOW!” cried Twilight. She wormed her way out of Applejack’s grip, and leveled her horn at the creature. She did not even try to form a spell; instead, she just put every ounce of energy she had into a single beam. The pink-violet light shot out from her horn and passed through the room. The creature attempted to dodge again, but the beam bent at a right angle and took a different path. The creature dodged again, but this time it was too late. It struck the creature in the head, tearing through the structum mask it wore. The creature screamed and took a step back.
Except that it did not fall. The wound was extensive, and the beam had passed completely through its head- -but there was nothing inside. No skull, and no brain. The head was no more a critical part of its being than the rest of it. It had not central nervous system.
The creature then turned to Twilight. Its body undulated slightly, and then without warning tore open in a way that for one mad moment made Twilight consider whether or not these creatures might be plants of some kind. When she looked into the center of its flower-like body, though, she immediately snapped back to reality: there, in the center, were three long, needle-like spirals of bones. They were surrounded by intense pink-violet energy, and Twilight could feel the raw magical power rising off of them.
All she could do was cast a shield spell in an attempt to defend Applejack and Fluttershy. From the energy that the creature was emitting, though, the blast would be impossible to block. Dodging was possible, but it would leave her friends exposed.
The blast rang out, and Twilight felt an impact against her body. She was not thrown backward, but rather to the side. She looked down to see a narrow white leg against her body, and Fluttershy and Applejack pressed against her. Silken had pushed them out of the way fast enough to protect them from the beam, but not fast enough to protect herself. Her rear legs were instantly vaporized.
The beam did not stop. It struck the crystal wall of the castle and rebounded in every direction. Smaller, divided beams shot out in every direction. Rarity cried out, and Pinkie Pie contorted her body in several different bizarre patterns in an attempt to avoid the beams. Twilight managed to keep her shield running to prevent her friends from being injured, but she could not reach Rainbow Dash. Fortunately, although the beams struck close to her, none of struck Rainbow Dash’s unconscious body.
The creature closed its body, but its magic did not cease. Instead of projecting a beam, plates of pink-violet armor began to form over the metal it wore. It did not seem to have a consistent spell; the plates sparked and hissed as pure, unaltered energy was poured into them. This creature clearly had no idea beyond pure instinct of how to use magic, but the fact that it could still create constructs was absolutely terrifying.
It paused, and approached its severed limb. The limb sprouted several limbs of its own, and then returned to its mother, fusing with her body. It did return to its original place, though; a thin robotic arm was moved in to replace it instead. The organic arm that it had used to thrash Rainbow Dash retracted and surrounded the artificial limb, providing it with support.
“You have to get out of here,” said Silken. As a remnus, she could not experience pain, even with her legs removed. “I can attempt to cover you.”
“No you can’t! And we’re not leaving Rainbow Dash!” Twilight turned to Rarity. “Rarity! I need you to go at it again!”
Rarity, though, did not respond. She was crouched and clasping one limb, gasping in pain. Pinkie was trying to comfort her, and only then did Twilight notice the large black circle burned through one of Rarity’s shoulders. One of the beams had struck her. With the morphiplasm’s central processor in Twilight’s portion of the suit, it had not been able to compensate for a magical attack.
Twilight swore in the modern Empire language. “I’ia,” she hissed before turning to Applejack. “AJ, I have a plan, but I need help! I need somepony to fight it head on!”
“Head on? You can count on me!”
“But you- -wait, what?”
“I’m madder than a rattlesnake at a squardancin’ tournament after what it did to Rainbow Dash.” Applejack stood up and started walking forward. “You just don’t do that to my friends and get away with it. You just don’t. Somepony’s in for a world of hurt.”
“It’s not a pony!” cried Pinkie Pie. “I’m pretty sure it’s a shoggoth!”
“I don’t care if it’s Cadence’s pillowcase full of hot biscuit dough, I’m gonna hit it!”
The creature allowed Applejack to approach. Again, it seemed not to consider her a high priority. In fact, it had frozen completely. No part of it moved except some of its eyes, which followed Applejack as she approached. The rest were focused on Twilight.
“Ap…pleja…CK,” it said, its voice rising several octaves as it tried to speak.
“Now, you may have had an easy time with Rainbow Dash,” said Applejack, “but I’m not Rainbow Dash!”
She lunged forward and struck at the creature’s leg. The creature parried, but was still knocked back slightly. Applejack was not nearly as strong as the power assist in Rarity’s morphiplasm suit, but she still possessed a the same earth-pony vigor as she had her entire life. The creature had not seemed to expect this, and when Applejack pivoted and bucked it squarely in the chest, it was thrown back significantly.
The creature slid on its heels back toward the table. Twilight, likewise, had moved there. She passed Rainbow Dash without looking- -she knew that if she did, there was no way she could bring herself to keep fighting- -and quickly found her way to the back of the Map where the large cables had been assembled. She charged her horn, and cried out. The spell that she had used against the creature in retaliation for what it did to Rainbow Dash as well as the later shield spell had overexerted her, and she had re-injured herself.
Still, she forced herself to continue. She focused her energy into a narrow laser and began to cut the coil, being careful to leave the internal section intact. At the same time, Applejack continued to fight the creature. Her winning streak, though, did not last long.
Applejack attempted another punch, but the creature dodged. It then struck back at her, striking a blow to her face that sent her reeling. With one continuous motion, it stepped forward and struck again- -and then again. Only on the fourth attempt did Applejack manage a proper block.
By this time, Applejack had just taken several head blows. One of her eyes was already starting to blacken. Instead of giving up, though, she turned her head and spit. “Really? Come on! I’ve gotten into harder fights at the Appleloosa Salt Lick! Hit me like you mean it!”
She threw herself forward again, and once again got several good hits on the creature. Unfortunately, she was too short to reach its head, and it was too heavily armored for her to do anything except knock it toward the Map. The charge cost her, though, when it struck her hard enough to send her flying back across the room.
This was when Twilight struck. She ran forward, the enormous coaxial cable suspended in her magic, and took a flying leap into the air. With a scream, she leapt onto the creature’s back.
It resisted, attempting to spread its wings. The magical armor it wore burned into Twilight’s body, charring her fur but arcing away from her vital organs through the aetherite she wore. Twilight held on, and with her magic charged slammed the needle of the coaxial cable into the space between the creature’s wings. It let out a low, calm moan and then threw her off.
Twilight landed hard on the map. There was a sharp pain in her wings, and then numbness. The creature then leapt at her, tearing at her with its hooves and claws. Its impassive golden face looked on as it did so, and Twilight could not help but feel that something equally disinterested was watching her through the hole in this creature’s head.
There was no choice. Twilight had hoped to have a chance to get away, but it was impossible now. She instead charged her horn, and rather than attacking activated a sequence of spells within the Map itself.
A sudden flash of blue light filled the room. The creature cried out and convulsed as pure magical energy was forced into its back. It tried to reach for the plug in its back, but every limb it formed destabilized and was reduced to liquid before it could grasp it.
It had been too close, though. Twilight was caught in the blast as well. She gritted her teeth and tried to keep herself from being torn asunder from the charge. The creature by far assumed the brunt of it, but Twilight still felt the marrow within her bones starting to heat up from the extreme excess of magical energy.
The reaction suddenly reached an exponential phase, and the resulting explosion knocked Twilight off the Map. She struck a chair that long ago she had once sat in, and then fell to the floor. The energy from the Map flickered and dimmed, and the plug fell from the creature.
It was injured, and badly. It stumbled, and the liquid of its burned, undifferentiated flesh began to drip from its body. Every part of it that was robotic hung limply.
Then it began to move. With every step it took it grew more stable. The dripping of the flesh began to slow, and the robotics began to twitch.
“Twilight…Sparkle,” it said. It’s voice was clear and almost perfect, as though a real pony had spoken it. “Twilight…SPARKLE.”
Twilight sat up, but only managed to throw her weight on the chair. Through her blurred and bleary vision, she saw the creature moving around the edge of the map, coming toward her, regenerating as it did. Twilight gasped, and did not resist. She could not run, and her magic had been depleted. She had failed.
Only then did she notice that the map had changed. Floating over the tiny representation of the crystal castle was a single cutie mark, one that Twilight did not immediately recognize apart from the fact that it did not belong to any of her immediate friends. With her vision distorted, it was just not possible to identify it clearly.
The air suddenly grew cold. The creature stopped. What few eyes it had regenerated suddenly began to scan around the room in a panic as it let out a low, frustrated growl. Twilight was sure that she could feel whatever it was feeling. With the cold came something else: a sensation of sickness, of anger and despair. She could have sworn that she heard a low wail from somewhere in the distance.
Then, suddenly, the doors to the room burst open as if pushed apart by an immense gust of wind. The ponies who were closest to the door were thrown back by the icy blast, and through her hazy vision Twilight saw a sudden surge of blue light, like a mist made up of translucent plates and cubes.
The air hummed with intense magic as the blue windigo crossed the room in an instant, dragging itself along with forming and re-forming limbs of light. It looked forward, and Twilight saw it momentarily form a single massive eye. It looked madly to her, and then to the creature, which had now taken a defensive stance.
As sturdy as the creature was, it was picked up and torn in half in an instant. This barely affected it, though, as each half began to independently attack the windigo, firing magic into it and rebuilding its magical armor. The windigo cried out as the armor arced with energy, and it dropped the halves. The smaller part immediately fired tendrils to the other, dragging them back together and forming a unified unit that opened and fired a beam of unmodulated magic. The windigo’s body swirled, forming a vortex around the beam and absorbing charge from it to advance forward. It struck with such force that Twilight could feel the impact in the form of an icy chill that knocked her back from the Map.
From below the table, she heard the battle continuing. The blue windigo was relentless, but the unnamable creature it was fighting was incapable of tiring. Twilight was not even sure she wanted to witness a defeat on either side, because it would be up to her to face the victor.
Neither side seemed to be able to achieve victory, though. The closest thing they reached was for the blue windigo to shove its opponent out of the Map room and into one of the main hallways. Twilight heard a low-frequency hum, followed by a sound of shattering crystal and the whinnies of many windigoes from outside. The battle had been moved out there, giving the ponies within the castle a temporary reprieve.
Twilight lay in the quiet for a moment, stunned. Slowly, though, her vision began to return to her and the world started to clear. She sat up, and suppressed a cry as she forced her damaged wings back into the correct position. The bones inside immediately began to heal, as did Twilight’s other injuries. In her long life, she had suffered far worse, and she knew that she would suffer worse again. Every time, though, she would heal, for all eternity.
That was not true of the others, though. Twilight stood on shaking legs and pulled herself forward to the unmoving heap of rainbow hair and blue feathers that lay near her.
“Rainbow Dash? Rainbow Dash!”
Twilight turned Rainbow Dash over. When she saw the injuries that her friends had sustained, though, she screamed and jumped back.
It was not that they were extensive. They were- -but what concerned Twilight far more was what their appearance. Rainbow Dash was bleeding badly, but the blood was not red as it should have been. It was fluorescent yellow.
At first, Twilight tried to dismiss this. The creature that had attacked them had possessed yellow blood, and some of it must have gotten onto Rainbow Dash. Except that she knew that such had not been the case. This was Rainbow Dash’s blood, and she was still losing it.
Twilight could not stop herself from looking closer. Around the wounds, Rainbow Dash’s skin had been peeled partially away to reveal hard, black chitin. Where her wings sat broken, Twilight saw the gleam of metal.
“Twilight…” Applejack stumbled quickly toward them. Twilight looked up, hoping that her friend would explain this, that it would all be okay. Instead, she saw that Applejack had been badly beaten- -and that fluorescent yellow fluid was dripping from the corner of her mouth. In some places, black chitin was visible through her skin.
“She’s- -she’s- -she’s- -”
“She’s hurt, Twilight!” Applejack took a step forward, but her rear knee buckled and she fell to the floor with a grunt.
“She’s not the only one!” Twilight turned to see Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy carrying Rarity. Her morphiplasm had retracted, revealing a charred hole in her shoulder. The wound was darkened, but Twilight could see the glint of metal inside and a thin line of yellow fluid that ran down Rarity’s perfect white coat.
“Oh, wow, Applejack!” said Pinkie. “You look like you lost a fight with a boxing glove wearing boxing gloves!”
“That’s debatable,” said Applejack, taking a deep breath. “I think I did pretty okay. Nopony’s been able to lick me yet, ‘cept Rainbow Dash.” Pinkie Pie stifled a giggle, and Applejack turned to Rarity. “Is it bad?”
“Eeh…maybe?”
“Well it doesn’t matter. Twilight, we need to help Rainbow Dash.”
Twilight looked from one of them to the other, panicking. She could not speak, and her mind was reeling. For a moment, she was frozen, because if she moved she felt like her whole world would fall down on her.
“Twilight!” cried Applejack. She was now holding Rainbow Dash in her front legs, getting herself covered with whatever substance it was leaking from Rainbow Dash. “Twilight! Come on! It’s not that bad, she’s been in worse crashes hundreds of times!”
“But it’s never been this bad,” said Pinkie Pie, suddenly seeing Rainbow Dash and losing all aspects of humor. Her voice wavered. “It’s never been this bad before…”
“I can help!” called Silken. The ponies turned to see her dragging herself forward on her front legs. Silken’s automatic repair system had already engaged, and although the core portions of her rear legs had already been rebuilt up to the knee she was still able to use them. Despite this, she was oddly quick using just her front ones.
“Silken! Do something!”
“Is she still breathing?”
“Y- -yes, she is, but really slowly!”
“Good! That will make this a lot easier.”
Silken approached Rainbow Dash and propped herself up. Then she extended her front legs, which split into various effectors. Even in her stupor, Twilight could tell that not one of them was meant to be used as a surgical tool.
Before Silken could even touch Rainbow Dash, though, the pony cried out. Her whole body tensed and spasmed, thrashing about.
“What did you do?!” cried Pinkie Pie. “What did you DO?!”
“I did not do anything yet!” said Silken.
Rainbow Dash screamed, and as she did, her tissues began to change. The black chitinous shell inside her began to break apart, and the skin that covered it began to grow- -but not as skin. It grew without color, forming gray tendrils of amorphous flesh. Rainbow Dash’s mouth opened wide- -and then wider than any pony’s mouth should have. Her teeth were surprisingly sharp, and her voice dropped several octaves.
“What is happening?” demanded Applejack.
“I don’t know,” said Silken, looking up at the ponies in a panic. “I am not familiar with pony physiology and- -incoming transmission!”
This snapped Twilight back to reality, although only partially. “From the ship?”
“No. From underground.” One of Silken’s eyes narrowed to a point and moved independently of the other. The pupil changed from blue to violet, and a hologram appeared beside Twilight. It rendered itself quickly, forming the outline of a violet alicorn with cold, empty eyes.
“A medical emergency has been detected in unit two,” it said in an emotionless version of Twilight’s voice that came from Silken.
“What is happening?!” demanded Applejack. “Tell us! NOW!”
The hologram appeared to look at Rainbow Dash, even though as a trick of light it was actually unable to see. “Unit two has been exposed to seventy six times the recommended safe dose of maginuclides,” it said.
“Fallout poisoning?” said Silken.
“But she hasn’t taken any more than the rest of us!” said Rarity, wincing from the pain in her shoulder.
“The toxcicity most likely resulted from ingestion.”
“Food?” said Silken. “No. Water.” She turned to the other ponies, her projecting eye staying focused on the hologram it was creating. “Did she drink any water?”
“She- -she did,” said Pinkie. “Just a little, though, it wasn’t- -”
“And you didn’t stop her?”
“I didn’t know!” screamed Pinkie, her voice rising shrilly as tears formed in her eyes. “I didn’t know! Please, save her! I can’t- -I can’t lose any more friends!”
“The process has been accelerated by severe tissue injury,” said the hologram. “The differentiation lock has been damaged. Unit two’s body is attempting to repair.”
“That’s good, right? RIGHT?”
The hologram looked Silken in the eye. “If the process continues, failure will result.”
“Failure?”
The hologram nodded solemnly. “What will be left will not be recognizable. And my Creator’s dream will have failed. All five units must persist. Vortog’plath idena’thanthakta.”
“How do we stop it?” said Fluttershy, stepping forward with an expression so surprising that it surprised every other pony there. “What do we need to do?”
“The unit must be returned to a gestation tank. But first, it must be stabilized. At the current rate, critical mutability will be achieved in four minutes and eight seconds. By then, the process will be irreversible.”
“That is not enough time,” said Silken.
“I know,” said the hologram. “But I can teach you to stabilize her. Uploading now.”
Silken shuddered, and the hologram flickered and went out. Silken’s pupil then dilated, and her eye resynchronized with the other.
“I know what to do,” she said. She turned to Twilight. “Goddess, I can perform the technical aspects, but the process requires magic. I need your help.”
Twilight looked at Silken, and then at Rainbow Dash. Then she took a step back. “N…no,” she said.
“Twilight, please, we need- -”
“NO!” screamed Twilight, causing her friends to jump back. Twilight, shaking and dripping tears from her eyes, looked down at what she had thought was Rainbow Dash. “You’re not- -you’re not ponies! None of you!” She looked up at them. The injuries Applejack, Rarity, and especially Rainbow Dash had received had confirmed it, although Twilight was sure that there was nothing but black chitin and yellow fluid beneath Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy’s exteriors as well. “You’re not ponies…and you’re not my friends!”
They all stared back wide-eyed, and their eyes looked just like Twilight’s friends had looked. “You’re just- -I don’t know what you are, but you’re not them! You’re just copies…” Twilight looked at Silken.
“Goddess, please. If you do not help, she will die.”
Twilight stared at Silken, and then at Rainbow Dash. She shook her head. “I- -I can’t…”
Then she ran. Her hooves clicked against the stone floor, and her tears dripped onto the dust as she sprinted out of the Map room.
“Twilight!” cried Applejack, attempting to stand to follow her.
“There is not time,” said Silken. She turned to Rarity. “Ms. Rarity, if the Goddess cannot perform, I need you.”
“M…me?!”
“You are the only one here who can wield magic.”
“But I- -I wouldn’t even know where to start!”
“I can show you. Just do exactly what I say. Please. She is your friend. My friend. And Twilight’s. I do not want to lose her.”
Rarity looked into Silken’s eyes, and then nodded. She allowed herself to be led to Rainbow Dash’s side.
“Alright,” said Silken, calmly, the same way she had long ago talked to her daughter. “Start by casting a square, right here…”
None of them understood what the hologram had meant when it alluded to the consequences of Rainbow Dash’s condition. The only one among them who had even the slightest idea was Silken, but she refused to speak about it. The others knew it was bad, though, and they had done their best.
Whether they had managed to be successful or not was still uncertain, but they had done what the hologram had requested. They had managed to return Rainbow Dash back into the deep chamber, and now she sat in the tube she had been born from, floating in the translucent fluid. Every part of her body was linked to thin tendrils of machinery that kept her alive and had begun the repair process. Parts of her flesh had been stripped away, revealing the chitinous creature beneath. Dark colored bones were already reforming, and the machines were slowly correcting the organic metal in her bones to make them straight and strong again.
“She looks like she’s sleeping,” said Fluttershy, who had not once left her best friend’s side.
“She is,” said Silken. Her eyes scanned past a list of vital signs. Her initial scans had indicated that Rainbow Dash had a pony physiology, but she had been mistaken. The scanning device she had used was not optimized for medical analysis, and even then no pony or remnus had seen a Pegasus in hundreds of thousands of years. Looking at the results now, though, it was quite apparent that Rainbow Dash- -and the others for that matter- -were something quite a bit more unusual than ponies.
“Silken,” said Applejack. Her face was bandaged, and Silken had administered drugs to reduce the swelling. “Is she going to be okay?”
“And…are we going to be okay?” asked Rarity. Her shoulder had also been bandaged, and although she could walk she was resistant to putting pressure on her right front leg. “And is it going to leave a scar?”
“I do not think so,” said Silken. “And if it does, we can correct it later. According to the programs I have been given, your differentiation and fallout levels are within normal parameters. You will heal quickly and be fine.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” said Applejack.
“No,” said Silken. “I did not.”
“She’ll be fine,” laughed Pinkie Pie, even if her laughter was nervous. “After all, look at her! She’s in a tube of goo! Nothing bad ever happened to a pony in goo! I bet it’s all squish and warm.”
“You were in a tube of your own,” said Silken. “Not too long ago.”
“We were,” said Fluttershy, as if this was the first time she had considered it. “But…I don’t remember much.”
“I remember that one time somepony knocked,” said Pinkie Pie out of nowhere.
They all fell silent. None of them wanted to follow that course of reasoning to its conclusion, and Silken did not want to push them.
“What was that thing?” said Applejack at last. “That creature…”
“I don’t want to know,” said Fluttershy. “And we don’t need to know. Not right now. Not ever. We’re safe here. We’re all safe.”
“Only barely,” said Applejack, angrily. “No thanks to Twilight.”
“Applejack!” gasped Rarity. “Don’t say things like that! Twilight did her very best, she just- -”
“Gave up on us?” said Pinkie Pie. “Yeah. I don’t know if that’s what you saw. But that’s what I saw.”
“You did not see incorrectly,” said a voice behind them.
They all jumped. Twilight was standing behind them, staring at them with a peculiar expression. Her face overall was neutral, but her eyes were piercing. She moved them across the group, but seemed to be looking past them. It was apparent that she had been crying.
Applejack stepped forward angrily. Fluttershy tried to hold her back, but Applejack firmly pushed her out of the way.
“I have something to say,” she said.
“I’m sure you do.”
“You left us there!”
“I did.” Twilight said it with no emotion. Silken immediately began to grow concerned.
Applejack looked taken aback by Twilight’s honesty. Twilight’s eyes had now taken to focusing directly on Applejack’s. “You know, we barely made it back. We almost…I don’t even want to say. No, darn it, I have to! We almost lost her! You ran out on us, and we almost lost Rainbow Dash!”
“She’s not Rainbow Dash.”
Applejack looked furious. “How can you say- -”
“And you’re not Applejack,” snapped Twilight, her tone so icy that Applejack was silenced instantly. She looked at the rest of them. “None of you are my friends.”
“Twilight,” said Rarity, “you can’t mean that- -”
“Look at her!” boomed Twilight, pointing. “Look. At. HER! I’ve checked over Silken’s data. I checked it again and again. Genetically manipulated flesh grafted onto Celestia knows what kind of mixture of foreign tissue and organic machinery. You’re not ponies! None of you are!”
“Twilight,” protested Fluttershy. “Please calm down. We can talk this out. We can have some tea and- -”
Twilight charged her horn, and a spell erupted from it, expanding outward in a circle. The other ponies cried out and attempted to cover themselves in defense, but the spell was not meant to harm them. As it crossed over each of them, their appearance changed. Twilight remained the same, although her aetherite collar and bracings vanished as the light crossed her. The others changed vastly, though. Silken appeared as she did without her armored carapace, as a metallic skeleton covered in machinery and robotics. Her face stared forward through a pair of electronic eyes and smaller unblinking sensory units built around a silvery brain that had long ago been organic and alive.
The other ponies changed as well. The spell showed them as they truly were. With their skin made transparent, they appeared as bizarre black creatures. They were in the shape of ponies, but were clearly not. Their bodies were black in nature, made of plates of black chitin linked by thin elements of silver organic machinery. Their faces each had six eyes, the two largest of which were pony-like with yellow sclera. The only part of them that stayed the same were their cutie marks, which were etched in full color into each of their hard armored flanks.
Rarity screamed when she saw herself, and Fluttershy nearly fainted. Even Pinkie Pie looked as though she were about to be sick.
“What did you do to us?!” cried Rarity, trying to cover herself in morphiplasm.
“The spell shows us for what we are,” said Twilight. “It breaks down illusions. Like the illusion of you pretending to be my friends.”
The spell began to fade, and the original appearances of the various ponies began to return. Pinkie Pie stepped forward, though, as her pink and squishy nature returned to her. “Oh yeah? Well I think it’s broken! Because if it had shown you for what you are inside, it would have shown a BIG MEANIE!”
“Pinkie!” gasped Fluttershy.
“Mean?” Twilight was barely whispering. “I’M the mean one? After you impersonated my friends? I thought you were real. I thought I had them back. And you let me think that. You all lied to me. I was happy. And do you know what it was like to lose that? To lose all of my friends again?”
“You didn’t lose us,” said Applejack. She took a step forward. “Twilight, it’s us. It really is us. I don’t…I don’t know about all that stuff that’s going on, I have no idea, but it really is me. Applejack. Remember how we used to go to the spa with Rarity? Or when you helped me fix up my farm, or when you accidentally turned Fluttershy into a vampire fruit bat?”
“I remember that,” said Fluttershy.
“So do I,” said Rarity. “Or when you came all the way to Manehattan with me, and helped me make a second line of dresses all in one night…”
“We ALL helped with that one,” said Applejack.
“Well, yes, of course. Oh! Or on your birthday, when I couldn’t bring myself to tell you that I had a scheduling conflict and tried to be at two parties at once!”
“Or your coming to Ponyville party? You know, when I first met you? Or any of your birthdays? Or when you accidentally gave me food poisoning from those terrible cupcakes?”
“And when you got frozen by a cockatrice in the forest,” said Fluttershy. “I screamed so loud…”
“We all remember, Twilight,” said Applejack. “All of it. It’s us. It really is us! Come on, Twilight, you know you can trust me!”
Twilight paused for a moment. Her expression did not change. “I trusted Applejack,” she finally said. “But I do not trust you.”
“But- -”
“Do you know what you are?” asked Twilight, slowly. “You are copies. Clones, maybe, but bad ones. You weren’t stored in those tanks. You were GROWN in them. Celestia knows why, but I don’t even care anymore. Your memories were PROGRAMED.”
“Twilight,” said Rarity. “You’re saying a lot of hurtful things, and I don’t know if this is the time or the place, what with Rainbow Dash- -”
Twilight reached out and touched Rarity’s white-clad shoulder. The morphiplasm reacted instantly, and Rarity cried out as it disconnected from her body and pulled itself onto Twilight’s. Twilight took it back from her and reassembled it around herself, forming thick black armor that covered every inch of her flesh. This time, she did not keep the helmet transparent. She left it opaque, relying on an HUD that represented the world mathematically, insulating herself from any true perception of the outside world entirely.
“This is mine,” she said, her voice amplified by the suit. “You don’t deserve it.”
Rarity stood there, covering her chest with one hoof in modesty as she started to cry.
“Now look what you did,” said Fluttershy, moving to Rarity’s side. “Twilight, that’s too far!”
“I don’t care,” said Twilight. She turned away from the ponies. “Silken.”
Silken looked at her friends- -who were still her friends, regardless of what type of strange alien life they were- -and followed Twilight.
“Yes, Goddess?”
“Take them to the ship.”
“But we already attempted- -”
“Signal for them to send a contingent of remni. Do whatever it takes. Just get them off this planet.”
“But what about you?”
“I will remain to complete my mission. But I never want to see any of those- -THINGS- -ever again.”
“I can attempt that, but you would be left alone.”
“I was born to be alone. It is my sole purpose in life. I’ve wasted too much time chasing impossible dreams of friendship. I have to find Cadence and finish this. You are just a distraction.”
“M…me?”
“I don’t care if you were at one time my grand-niece. Take them, and return to the ship. Go back to the Empire. Do whatever it is Remni do. I don’t care. That is an order.”
“I do not know if I can obey it.”
“Then let me rephrase. Take them. Give them to the captain, even if they won’t work at all for her goal. Leave this planet. And if I ever see you again, I will pull out your central processor and deactivate you.”
“But that would kill- -”
“You’re already dead, Silken. You have been for a long time. You’re just a piece of equipment now, even if you’ve managed to convince yourself that those things are your friends.”
“But they are my friends.” Even Silken could hear the sound of uncertainty in her voice.
Twilight paused for a long moment, but did not turn around. “Just go, Silken. Just go.”
Silken stood up straight. “Yes, my Goddess. But before I do.” She extended her hoof. A blue cube sat atop the tiny point of it.
“What is this?”
“The translation you asked for. Of the recording we found when we first came here. I have removed the interference, although I have not looked at it. I had hoped we could together.”
“I will see it later,” said Twilight, even though she had no intention to ever look. “You stay here. You have until Rainb- -the damaged one is healed. Then get out.”
She started to walk away, leaving Silken behind. Pinkie Pie suddenly ran forward.
“Twilight!” she cried. “Wait- -oof!”
Pinkie Pie had run headlong into a pink-violet wall, a construct that Twilight had projected to seal off the hallway she had taken. Pinkie Pie pounded on it, but Twilight did not turn around. She faded into the darkness, and was gone.
Time passed, but Twilight did not know how long. Simple units like hours or days were meaningless to her. Even centuries had become infinitesimal units of time, but she was sure that she had not passed any of those. She just wandered, alone, with no view of the world except for the orange text on the inside of her screen. A cold, sterile, isolated existence. It was this type of existence, she knew, that Celestia had given her wings for. Every other pony would leave her, to believe that her greatest friends had returned to her had been a deadly foray into excessive optimism.
It had been a long time since Twilight had been happy. For the first time, she had felt like there was some meaning to her existence. Her role had become mechanical: she was a Princess, existing solely for the Empire until there was nothing left of her for herself. There was no joy in such an existence. Seeing her friends again- -or things that she thought had been her friends- -had given her back something that she had forgotten she had ever lost. And then they had taken it away. For that, she hated them.
So she wandered deeper and deeper into the ancient facility. Somepony had built it, maybe, or perhaps planted it long ago. It might have been the same madmare who had created the five clones, but there was no way to know that for sure. What Twilight knew is that it was quiet and empty.
Over time, she reached places that were quite a bit deeper than the rest. They seemed to have been abandoned. The living material that grew along the walls had faded and calcified, bleaching into dead metal that overwhelmed obsolete machinery. Everything useful had been picked clean, and what remained behind had been long-since forgotten.
What was strange, though, was that these rooms were oddly organized. The machinery had not dug deep, but rather seemed to have grown upward over time from these deep chambers. Twilight began to consider whether this was actually something that had existed on Equestria for eons before the birth of ponies, buried deep in the mantle of the planet and only forced upward by the geological upheaval that ponies had wrought on the surface.
It was while she was considering these thoughts that the oxidized metal of the floor suddenly cracked and gave way.
Twilight screamed as she fell into darkness. With her wings covered, she could not fly. Instead, she just fell into darkness- -and then, after what seemed like forever, struck something hard.
It took time for Twilight to fully regain consciousness. When she did, she stood up and lit her horn. Pink-violet light filled the room, but did not land on any walls. Twilight could only see a floor made of massive, perfectly hexagonal tiles. The room was simply too large for her light to illuminate.
Then something whined in the distance. Twilight gasped, wondering if she was going to need to defend herself. Then she heard a large relay click, and several lights overhead sparked to life, humming as they did. At first, their glow was limited and only showed the thin bands of ancient, old-growth machinery that had somehow managed to cling to life.
The light grew. As it did, Twilight was able to see the scale of the room. It was as large as the type of hanger where frigates were manufactured, but longer. The walls, though, were strange, made out of identical repeating units.
Then, suddenly, Twilight realized what the walls were covered in. She did not gasp, or make any sound. The emotion they elucidated was not fear, but something different that was far more difficult to name.
They were tanks. Most of them were identical to the very ones that the five ponies upstairs had come from, but farther back in the room they began to take on different shapes. Older shapes. Those looked more like prototypes.
There were thousands of them, perhaps tens of thousands, all lined up on a system of racks that lined the walls. They were stacked several pods thick, and due to disrepair some of them had fallen to the floor and burst open. Twilight approached them- -both the fallen ones, and the dusty tanks that were still linked to the walls- -but stopped when she saw what was inside. These tanks contained no fluid, and the machinery that had once supported the lives within hung dry and limp, connected only to skeletons.
Each tank was filled, or had been filled at one point. All looked like pale, gray versions of what the others were underneath their pony surfaces, but a few had gleaming white pony bones. They were in various stages of development: some were quite clearly adults, but others were smaller. Some even appears to have been fetuses.
Then there were the others. Ones that did not look like ponies. Their bones were overgrown and asymmetrical, as though they had expanded to the very confines of the tanks that they sat in. The results were twisted and mutated, their jaws stuck open in eternal screams.
And then there were the pods that were empty.
Twilight stepped back in horror, but as she did, some of the ancient machinery hummed to life once more. A long needle protruded from a trunk of fungoid metal, and an orange hologram flickered to life.
It was distorted, but Twilight could immediately tell that the shape it represented was supposed to be a pony. She was tall and thin, and her skin was marked with subtle linear patters that shone brightly in the darkness. Those crossed over tidy and well-hidden surgical scars and connected to innocuous but still quite apparent implants that, like the lines over parts of the pony’s body, glowed with internal light.
This pony seemed strange, as though even in life she had been deathly pale and almost ghostly. One of her eyes had been fully covered with a plate of metal, and her silver hair had been cropped short against her skull. Despite this, she showed no signs of age- -and Twilight was able to recognize the unicorn instantly.
“S…Starlight?”
The hologram of Starlight took a deep breath. Then she spoke. “One of them was born today,” she said, her voice shaking. “Eight thousand one hundred sixty four years of work, and one of them finally emerged alive. And I…I…” She shook her head. There was great pain in her one remaining eye. She kept flicking her front left hoof, turning the wrist over again and again. Twilight noticed that the limb was a different hue than the rest of her body.
“It…she was a Fluttershy,” said Starlight, her voice wavering. “But she…it…came out wrong. The physiology wasn’t stable. All…all it could do was scream. By Celestia…when I saw it, it wasn’t even a pony. But it was…it was her. I saw her eyes. And she saw me.” She shook her head again. “I had to…” There was a long pause, and Starlight took a deep breath that indicated quite clearly that she had artificial lungs. “I did what I had to do.”
“Starlight…” whispered Twilight.
Starlight continued. “I can’t bear to do that again. I just can’t. But I had an idea. I can predict the failures before they happen. I know which ones are going to be born wrong. I can’t save them, not as ponies, but if I remove all locks on their differentiation some part of them will survive. They won’t just survive, they’ll be indestructible. But not ponies. Not the Elements of Harmony.” She paused. “But still useful. I can teach them to use machines. I can let them help me save the world.”
The hologram flickered out, and Twilight found herself reaching for it, as though she could pull Starlight back to her. Such was impossible, though. There was no way to reach her friend. Not if she was as old as these abandoned, dead incubation tanks.
That was when Twilight remembered the cube that Silken had given her, and in her mind things suddenly clicked into place. She hoped she was wrong, but she suddenly realized who had built this facility.
With shaking hooves, Twilight produced the cube and connected a blue thread from her helmet to it. She did not initially run it, but rather examined what Silken had done. As she had initially suspected, the signal had decayed very badly- -but that was not the main cause of its distortion. Silken had taken so long to translate it because it was not just one signal. There were two. One had been written over the other to save space, and in order to make them readable Silken had separated the two.
Twilight paused, not knowing if she should proceed. Then, hesitantly, she entered the necessary code to run the first recording.
An image flashed onto the inside of her HUD, representing itself like the other holograms had. It was cast in blue light, but was very clearly Starlight. She had aged substantially, and looked much older than she had in the recording before. Her body had none of the cybernetic enhancements, though, which led Twilight to believe that this one had been taken long before Starlight had stretched her skin over a metal frame.
This version of Starlight appeared to have lived a hard life. Her mane, streaked with gray, was ragged and long. One of her eyes was covered with a patch, and her front left leg had been replaced entirely by a primitive looking robotic one. She wore a cloak that covered her scarred body, and stared with steely determination.
“I don’t know how long I’ve been here,” said Starlight, her voice gruff but clearly coming from lungs that were still organic. “It’s hard to tell. The planet doesn’t turn at the right rate. As if something shoved it badly out of course.” She paused. “And I think something did. Something very, very bad happened her. I don’t know the exact time, but my guess is I’ve been wandering for twenty years now. Maybe thirty. Forty, even, I don’t know. There are no signs of pony life. Not one. Nopony is here. They’re all gone. Every last one.
“I don’t know how far ahead I am. I’m not sure I want to. But I know that I’m the last one who can fix this.”
“No,” said Twilight, as though the image could hear her. “You can’t. Starlight, you just can’t. I already tried.”
“At first, I considered a time spell. The initial attempts failed.” She rubbed her robotic front leg with the other one. “The Map just doesn’t have enough power to send me back. And even if it did…I don’t think it’s a good idea. My returning could be what caused all this.” She shook her head in the same way she would on recording eight thousand years later. “Time spells…they just make things worse. I can’t get back home. I’m trapped here. But I can help.” She looked up at what Twilight supposed was a camera, or at this era in Starlight’s life probably a crystal that would later be transcribed into a digital format. “In all that wandering, I came up with a theory. An idea. A hope, even. I can’t fix this problem myself, but I’m ninety percent sure- -no. I’m completely sure that the Elements of Harmony could fix this.
“This planet underwent an apocalyptic event, but they could reverse it. I don’t know how much, but I have to try.” She laughed suddenly. “The Map, the Map stores a backup. I can use it as a template. I can built artificial cutie marks, identical copies. I’ve observed them enough…even if I can only rebuild their memories to the moment I left, it will be enough.
“The technology here was vastly more advanced than it was in my time. I’ve found pieces of it, put things together. I’ve started building an underground facility.” She paused. “I’ve also found a source of genetic material. There are beings here. Their culture is primitive, barely stone age. Insectoid. Possibly the remnants of changelings, or an offshoot of their species. They know me. They build stones around the castle. Perhaps they worship it. Perhaps they worship me. Or maybe I’m their devil. I don’t know. But I will use their genetic material as a starting point.
“The Elements of Harmony will return. And they will save us all.”
The recording terminated. Twilight quickly shifted to the next one.
A new image appeared. This one, though newer, was far more badly distorted. It was cast in a dim orange glow, but clearer than it had been before. When Twilight saw it, her heart ached. Now she knew that the mechanical abomination before her, with its asymmetrical and flailing limbs and armor-plated body, was all that had remained of Starlight after a lifetime of age and damage. There was nothing left of her that was pony.
Starlight’s remains spoke. The voice was low and distorted, both by the decay of the recording and by the limitations to her body. It was spoken in a language that Twilight had to translate.
“This…is my last recording,” said Starlight. “And I have failed. Time has passed. Much time. Too much time. I have completed five of them. Five units. My…friends. I remember they were my friends. But when I see them, I can’t recognize them anymore. I don’t remember who they were. And now, I know that I will never meet them again.”
“No,” said Twilight. “Don’t say that Starlight, don’t…”
Starlight took a gurgling, mechanical breath. Her body heaved as though it were damaged. “Yet the Sixth always eluded me. Initially, I thought it was foolish optimism. That I was limited by her biology. Now I know that is not the case. Eighteen times she has been born, and eighteen times I have created new queens for the Builders…or what used to be the Builders. But the cutie mark never takes. It is perfect, but it never takes.
“My only conclusion is that Twilight Sparkle is still alive. Somewhere, out there. I don’t know where. Not on this planet, but elsewhere. How far? How long? I don’t blame her. I don’t blame…you.” A wheezing sound indicated that Starlight was trying to laugh. “Am I being foolish? Why can’t a dying mare hope? Twilight, I address this to you. Maybe someday you will return, and find it. I have set this facility to play this recording if it detects you, and I have created an AI to help you if you need it. I made her look like you.
“I tried to write it in our journal, but I couldn’t remember how to make the letters. The journal. How many times I read it. To rebuild their stories in their minds, and so that I could remember my life.
“Twilight. Please. Help them. When they wake up, they will be confused, and I will not be here to show them the way. I can’t…I can’t remember why I build them. They have consumed my life for over eighty thousand years, but I do not remember why I made them. Or who they are.” She gave a long pause. “I do not remember who I was. I am not like Xyuka, my body did not accept the modifications as hers did.”
“Starlight, no, it’s going to be okay…”
“Everything is gone. The civilizations I lived amongst, that I helped rise and watched fall…they are long gone. Even my Builders no longer follow my orders. Not that I would ask them to. If I can receive any consolation, it is that they remain. They have no minds, but they have begun to build their own machines. Their own armor. My greatest hope is that they will rise in my place. Who knows. Some day they may find this recording before you do, and understand it. I wish them well.
“But there is one last thing I can do.” She lifted a narrow robotic claw and pointed to what was supposed to be her head. The machinery split, revealing a long and pointed horn, the base of which was linked to a number of glowing wires that led deeper into Starlight’s body. “I have enough horn marrow left for one more spell. You’ll hate me for it, Twilight, but I know which one it has to be. The greatest curse I know.”
Twilight’s eyes widened. “Sombra’s Bane,” she whispered. She jumped forward as though she could reach the image projected on the inside of her mask. “No! Starlight, no, you can’t!”
“Goodbye, Twilight. They will be waiting for you. I’m sorry I did not last long enough to see you again. Please forgive me.” The image suddenly distorted, but did not go out. Starlight sighed deeply. “The Elements of Harmony will return. And they will save us.”
Starlight’s horn began to glow, and her body erupted with blue light as the recording stopped, leaving nothing but static. Twilight stared for it for a long time before shutting it off.
The last sentence she had said had been spoken in her distorted, broken language. In that language, it had been “Vortog’plath idena’thanthakta”. Starlight’s last hope, and her last wish, carried on by her children without them understanding its meaning. Twilight had understood, though. And she knew what she needed to do. �g?!^�4
Twilight’s wings beat hard against the growing storm. Through her visor, she scanned the snow and ice below. She had lost it once or twice, each time finding herself starting to panic and fly erratically as she tried to locate the path again, but each time returning to the trail. Down below, there were five sets of hoofprints: four from normal ponies, and one set that was far smaller that came from a remnus. Twilight had been deep Starlight’s facility for far longer than she had thought, and her friends had gotten far.
She accelerated, racing ahead. Part of her did not even know why she was bothering. If anything, the recordings had only confirmed her suspicions. What she had thought had been her original friends had been exactly what she had thought they were: copies, or clones of some sort, built in a laboratory and given the memories of ponies that had long ago passed away. They were not the ponies they appeared to be, even if they did have the minds and memories of ponies Twilight had loved. Yet she pressed on through the cold air and snow, desperately trying to catch up with them.
They had reached the forest, and entered it. Twilight accelerated, flying between the trees and stirring up strange insects from the leaves of the enormous trees. No doubt there were all manner of unsavory things watching her, some eyeing her with hunger and others watching with impassive hatred. She did not care. She just kept going.
For a time, she thought that she would not find them. That they had gone all the way to the rendezvous point, and already gone up to the ship. They would already have left orbit by now, if that was the case. Twilight would have, by her own orders, been left alone on the planet, not to return for many centuries. Indeed, she would no doubt return with the cure for the Mortality Virus- -but by then, it would be far too late for that victory to mean anything at all.
Then she saw them. They were far below, and looked like little dots, but they were clearly there. From high above, Twilight saw them all walking, save for Rainbow Dash who was curled on Silken’s back against the cold. Twilight quickly swooped down through the trees and landed behind them.
“Wait!” she called, trotting toward them.
Rarity turned suddenly and cast a wall spell. A short barrier formed in front of Twilight. “Stay away!” she cried.
“Please! I came to talk!”
“You mean yell at us more,” said Pinkie Pie. “And I say neigh! Neigh I say! Go away!”
“You’ve already made yourself pretty clear, Twilight,” said Applejack. “And we know we’re not welcome.”
“And neither are you!” said Rarity, turning her head with a dramatic mane flip.
“We’re not ponies, after all,” said Fluttershy. “Just copies!”
“I know,” said Twilight. “But I still need to talk to you! Please, just give me a minute!”
Rainbow dash stirred on Silken’s back. She looked up groggily. “I think I missed something here.”
“Go back to sleep,” said Silken. She turned to Twilight and looked somewhat afraid. “Please do not take my central processor,” she said. “Not until I can get them to the ship.”
“I’m not going to take your processor, Silken.”
“But you said- -”
“I know what I said! I was angry, and I felt betrayed! But I wasn’t thinking! Not about any of you!”
They slowed and turned. They were all frowning- -even Pinkie Pie- -but it seemed that they had decided to hear Twilight out.
“I was a jerk,” said Twilight.
“You were a big fat meanie, you mean,” said Pinkie Pie.
“That too. I know. I was a lot of bad things. I’ve been alone for a long time, and I thought…I thought I was alone again.” She looked at the ponies. She knew what they were on the inside, but they all looked so much like her friends. “I looked at the recordings. They were from the pony that created that place. That created all of you.”
“Oh,” said Applejack, her expression falling. “I see. So you’re here to rub it in our faces, aren’t you? That we’ve got yellow blood and ‘aren’t ponies’ even if we darn-well are- -”
“It was Starlight.”
They all fell silent.
“Our Starlight?” said Fluttershy at last.
Twilight nodded. “She spent her entire life trying to bring you back. She thought that the Elements of Harmony could heal Equestria. She didn’t realize we’d already left the planet behind. She lived longer than any mortal pony is supposed to, all alone. So that she could make you.”
“But that still means we’re just copies,” said Applejack. “At least in your eyes.”
“Yes,” said Twilight, “and no. When I saw what you…are, I didn’t know what to do. I panicked. I didn’t know if you were trying to deceive me, or if you were even who you are. But now I know you aren’t. Whatever you are on the inside, you’re still ponies. You feel the same things that ponies feel, think the same thoughts, and have memories. Our memories.” Twilight took a breath. “And you can be afraid, abandoned, and confused, just like I can. And I had no right to treat you the way I did.”
“Even if we’re not original?” asked Rarity.
“Would two identical dresses, sewn by the same hooves with the same love be any different?”
Rarity seemed taken aback by the analogy. “Well, there might be subtle differences, but…no. They would be the same.”
“And you are the same too. I can’t claim that Starlight was right. In fact, it was cruel. To bring you here, to a world you don’t understand. But it was more cruel for me to reject you like that. You may have different bodies, but you are still my friends.”
They fell silent once again. None of them spoke, and Twilight sighed.
“That was what I had to say,” she stated, forcing a weak smile. “Thank you for listening.” She turned and started to walk away.
“Now just wait an apple-pickin’ minutes,” said Applejack, stepping forward angrily. “You can’t just say something like that and walk away.”
“I can’t.”
“No. You’ve got to at least give us a chance to accept your apology.”
“It’s only proper,” aid Rarity in a huff. “And even then, forcing us to accept it so quickly is just rude.” She harrumphed gracefully. “That said, even though I do accept it, I will be holding a grudge against you for some time. Perhaps as long as a month.”
“Oh,” said Fluttershy, letting out the breath she had been holding. “I’m so relieved.”
“I still have no idea what’s going on,” muttered Rainbow Dash.
Applejack turned to Pinkie. “Pinkie?”
Pinkie Pie shrugged. “Eh. I’ve always been a clone. Ever since you sent the original back in that weird copy-pond out in the Everfree Forest.”
“Wait, what?”
“Joking, joking!” laughed Pinkie Pie. “Probably.”
“So…what now?” asked Twilight.
“Hmm,” said Rarity. “I do believe a group hug is in order.”
“Group hug!” cried Pinkie Pie. “GROUP HUG!”
The ponies converged on Twilight, and they hugged her. Silken even set Rainbow Dash down so that she could stumble to them and join in. Twilight knew that inside, they were strange amalgams of technology and mutated tissue, but they felt war and soft on the outside. She was content in the illusion she had chosen.
“Silken?” said Twilight, noticing that she was standing back.
“I’m just here to observe, and help when I can.”
“Nonsense!” said Rarity. “You are our friend too, of course you are welcome!”
“Everypony is welcome in the group hug!” giggled Pinkie Pie.
“Yeah,” said Rainbow Dash. “You really saved my bacon back there.”
“Again,” said Fluttershy, “what is bacon?”
Silken smiled, and hugged them. It was actually somewhat crushing; despite the thinness of her limbs, she was quite strong. To Twilight, though, it felt good to be hugged.
As they hugged, though, Twilight’s ears pricked. She heard a strange sound, like a chugging coming from the distance. She looked up, scanning the sky. Her friends noticed that something is wrong.
“Twilight?” asked Rainbow Dash. “What is it?”
“Silken, do you hear that?”
“I do more than hear it,” she said, her voice sounding cold. “A small ship just entered the atmosphere and is approaching rapidly.”
Rarity gasped. “The ship is here! The ship is here! Oh! Can I please have the suit back, I want to look my best when I go meet the captain!”
“But the ship shouldn’t be here,” said Twilight, scanning the sky with her visor. “This area is too unstable, and there’s nopony on the Prodijila who can do the math to plot a course here.”
Then she saw it. The chugging sound grew almost deafening, along with a roar and high-pitched whine. The ship came down from the sky like a meteor, taking a turn that would be impossible for any occupant to survive. It slowed and passed directly overhead. As it did, Twilight saw its shape. It was a system of revolving spirals around a solid core, an eccentric sphere of metal that twisted and writhed as it changed course. Several smaller versions of it followed behind.
“Oh my,” said Rarity, looking up at it with a look of displeasure as it stopped and hovered, blocking out what little light the sky had lent them. “That certainly looks different than I expected. I thought the Royal Navy would look a bit more…elegant.”
“And less terrifying,” said Fluttershy.
“That’s not the Royal Navy,” said Twilight. She immediately recognized the architecture because she had designed it. “That’s a Cult ship. My Cult.”
Almost as if it reacted on cue, the bottom of the ship shifted and opened. Four objects fell from it and landed in front of Twilight and her friends, each landing with a resounding boom. The ponies instinctively braced themselves for an attack.
When the dust cleared, four figures were standing on the Equestrian earth. Each of them was indistinguishable from the other. They were remni, and their bodies were physically identical to Silken’s save for the fact that they were slightly taller and had been given different color schemes. Whereas Silken had been made white, as was standard for remni in the Royal Navy, these Remni were black. On each of their right shoulders, they bore two horizontal violet stripes, denoting rank; on the left, they bore the insignia of the One-and-Five. The only part of them that was white was their faces, making them appear to be wearing extremely high collars and giving them a distinctly skeletal impression.
“Eek!” cried Pinkie Pie. “They’re dressed in black! That means they’re evil! EVIL!”
“We’re not evil,” said one of the remni. Her voice sounded similar to Silken’s, although with subtle differences. Although every remnus had the same voicebox, each had had different accents and speech patterns in life that tented to carry over to their new career. “Our color scheme is not intended to be threatening. It was selected by Twilight Sparkle herself.”
The others turned to Twilight.
“Darling!” cried Rarity. “Why in Equestria would you commit such a crime! They look HORRIBLE!”
“What?” said Twilight, defensively, “I thought black was always fashionable!”
“Not on armor! It makes you look like a fascist!”
“Or a Nilfguaardian,” suggested Pinkie Pie. She paused. “Actually…that suddenly makes a lot of sense…”
“Well I thought it looked good!” exclaimed Twilight. “ And I still think it does!”
“Ahem,” said one of the Cult remni, putting her pointed black hoof over her mouth.
“Don’t rush me!” shouted Twilight, turning suddenly and approaching. “I will get there when I get there!”
“Of course, Godde- -”
“What is the Cult doing here?” demanded Twilight, suddenly and without warning. “This area is still under strict quarantine, and you are in violation of it!”
“We were given orders to be here.”
“By who? Who is your commander?”
The remni looked at each other, as if trying to decide whether to tell Twilight or not. This insulted Twilight deeply.
“You are members of my Cult,” she said. “All your orders stem from me, and nopony else. Now, I don’t require you to stay with me if you don’t want to, but if you’re going to wear MY cutie mark, you are going to obey my orders! Now tell me who sent you here!”
“Wow, Twilight,” said Rainbow Dash. “Holy nuggets, you’re awesome…”
“Darling,” whispered Rarity, “your wings!”
Rainbow Dash looked back to see that her appendages were fully extended, but Twilight ignored it.
The main remnus stepped forward. Her lines were two percent wider than those of the others. “I am Corona Fade,” she said. “I follow the High Priest Light Gloom.”
Twilight gasped. “Light Gloom?”
“You know him?” asked Applejack.
“Of course I know him, he’s my High Priest! He was my personal student, one of the very best! We even- -” She stopped herself. That was not something she wanted to go into.
“Until he turned evil, right?” said Pinkie Pie. “You know, blew up the place, gave a speech, then ran out swearing vengeance?”
“No, of course not! We still have a very cordial professional relationship. He’s never showed any signs of being evil.”
“He is not evil,” said Fade. “As, again, neither are we. However, we do have an important mission here.”
“No, you don’t,” said Twilight. “You have no business here. This planet is off limites to you. It’s off limits to anypony except me.”
“Incorrect.”
“What do you mean incorrect? I just gave the order!”
“We obey the Will of the Goddess.”
Twilight blinked, confused. “Will of the Goddess…I AM the Goddess!”
“Yes. And we strive to create the world that you decided must come to be. We are here on your orders, even if you did not issue them.”
“So…not evil,” said Pinkie Pie. “Just crazy.”
“I assure you, we are quite sane,” said one of the other remni. “As is High Priest Light Gloom. He would very much like to explain his motivations with you, perhaps over tea.”
“I do like tea,” said Fluttershy. “Tea sounds really good right now, doesn’t it?”
“I’m a bigger fan of punch,” said Rainbow Dash, brandishing a hoof weakly.
“Good one,” whispered Pinkie Pie.
“Really? I just thought of that on the fly…”
“We were sent to retrieve you,” said Fade, stepping forward. The others backed away, but Twilight held her ground.
“I will do no such thing. I did not request extraction by you.” She turned to Silken. “Silken, contact the ship. Check the status on the REAL shuttle.”
“I cannot,” said Silken. “I lost contact with the ship some time ago.”
“You WHAT?! And you didn’t tell me?!”
“You did not ask.”
“The frequencies have been changed,” said one of the remni on the end of the line. “The captain of your original vessel has committed high treason and heresy. Light Gloom has assumed command of the vessel per protocol.”
“You WHAT?! I mean, I know I just said that, but- -”
“We now serve in the capacity as your original crew,” said Fade. “I assure you, they have been treated fairly and gently.”
“Reasonably gently,” added one of the others.
“Reasonably gently. As such, we have been sent to retrieve you.”
“And the others?” asked Silken.
“That was left to my personal judgement,” said Fade. “And I am not unreasonable. They will return with us. Our shuttle is equipped to give them a full medical examination, and perform any corrections that may be needed.”
“Corrections?” said Fluttershy.
“And if we don’t go with you?” asked Twilight, still maintaining her defiance.
Fade stared at Twilight for a long moment with her tiny blue pupils. “Goddess, you need to come with us. This planet is slated for demolition. If you remain, you will be caught in the blast.”
“Demolition?” Twilight almost laughed. “You can’t demolish a planet! That would require- -”
“A dimensional hammer. One has been installed in the Prodijila and is prepared to fire.”
Twilight’s eyes widened and her blood ran cold. “But…but that’s impossible…”
“Twilight,” said Rainbow Dash. “Come on, we can’t keep up with this.”
“Yes, darling,” said Rarity. She at least seemed to understand some level of the threat that the world presented, although there was no way she could fully comprehend what it meant. “Please, how bad is it?”
“That weapon is not supposed to exist,” said Twilight, her voice low and wavering but rising with anger as she continued. “I MADE SURE it can’t exist! I deleted every record, every schematic, every design- -”
“You erased the ones that you knew about. The work of a great many scholars uncovered some. The rest was produced by independent discovery and improvement, much of it by the High Priest himself. You cannot suppress that. It is not your way.”
“Twilight,” said Rainbow Dash again, “what’s all this about hammers?”
“It’s not a hammer,” said Twilight, trying to keep her composure. “That’s a euphemism. It’s a weapon. They were developed in the Last War, the one before the Exodus.” She stepped toward Corona Fade. “You have no idea what that weapon is capable of, why I did what I had to do. It was a dimensional hammer that rendered the moon uninhabitable and nearly killed Princess Luna. With a single shot. And what they did to Equestria…” She gestured out to the land around them. “You can see what it did here.”
“This was not the product of a single event, but a combination of factors.” Fade paused. “Although I admit that the dimensional hammer was a significant contributor. However, it will not be in this case. The design has been modified to ensure no part of the planet remains.”
“But why?” demanded Applejack, stepping forward to stand beside Twilight. “You can’t destroy Equestria! That’s downright ridiculous!”
“All of our calculations indicate that it is entirely possible.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it!”
“They probably do not,” said Silken.
“We did,” said one of the other remni.
Fade nodded. “The destruction is an unfortunate collateral effect. The dimensional hammer was determined to be the only weapon capable of eliminating our target.”
“And what target would that be?”
“The remains of Princess Mi’Amore Cadenza.”
Twilight gasped, and she saw the remni’s eyes focus on her. In that one instant, she had shown her hoof. They knew, and so did she.
“You can’t do that,” said Twilight.
“You were sent here to retrieve them. To use her unique genetic code to establish a cure for the Mortality Virus. We cannot allow that to happen.”
“Are you insane?! Why?!”
“Because that is the Will of the Goddess.”
Twilight was about to scream at them, but she felt a cold pointed hoof on her shoulder.
“Silken?”
“Let me talk to them.”
Twilight nodded, and Silken stepped forward. “Sisters,” she said. Then she looked to the one on the far left, who was perfectly identical to the others. “And brother.”
“Silken Dream,” said Corona Fade. “It is good to see one of us here. However, that mane looks ridiculous.”
“It may,” said Silken, shaking it. “But it is so soft.”
“Indeed. I have heard that the Royal Navy has much looser remni coloring restrictions than the Cult of Twilight Sparkle.”
“It’s called the ‘Cult of Twilight Sparkle’?” whispered Rainbow Dash. “So. Awesome!”
Pinkie Pie shoved a cupcake in Rainbow Dash’s mouth, forcing her to be quiet. Nopony asked where Pinkie Pie had found the ingredients to make said cupcake.
“The restrictions are similar,” said Silken, shrugging. “With that said, you are out of line.”
“Am I?”
“It is not our position to give orders to ponies. Especially to the Gods.”
“I am not giving orders. I am relaying them, in a sense. You could say I am offering a suggestion.”
“A suggestion whose consequence for noncompliance is atomization. That is not a suggestion at all, I think.”
“Then what is it?”
“A threat.”
Fade made no facial response. Remni generally did not. They were patient. “It is not meant that way. However, I feel- -as do my siblings- -that it is critical that we remove the Goddess and her associates from this world before demolition can commence.”
“You would not fire if she is still here.”
“I would not, no. Light Gloom would.”
“I see. Then that leads us to the most important question.”
“Which is?”
“If the Goddess refuses to depart of her own free will, will you take her by force?”
Corona Fade stared at Silken for a long moment, and then turned her eyes toward Twilight. “She will not elect to stay. It would not be logical.”
“Don’t pretend to speak for me,” said Twilight. “I’ve done a lot of things that aren’t logical today, and I feel like I might want to keep up my streak.”
“Then yes,” said Fade. “If that is your decision, we cannot allow you to come to harm. We would take you by whatever means necessary.”
Silken stared at her for a long moment. “I see.”
A sudden explosion knocked Twilight and her friends to the ground, the result of thirty two tons of metal colliding at maximum speed. Silken had charged Corona Fade, and Corona Fade had shifted her body to brace for the impact. Neither had sustained the slightest damage.
“Silken!” cried Twilight. “What are you doing!?”
“I serve the Goddess,” she said, more to Corona Fade. “I have been ordered to defend her!”
“As have I,” replied Fade.
The two separated and attempted to punch one another. It was an odd thing to watch: both were far stronger than any living pony could be, but both were perfectly maladapted for physical combat.
This did not bother the other remni. Twilight felt a distortion in the air, and out of the corner of her eye saw orange panels appear beside each one. They had begun casting technomagic.
Twilight raised her own magic, casting a shield spell around herself and her friends to protect them from a pair of concerted stun spells.
“Stop!” cried Fluttershy. “There has to be a peaceful resolution to this! Can’t we just talk!”
“I would prefer it,” said Corona Fade, punching Silken so hard that she flew backward and nearly crushed Applejack, “but due to the circumstances, we will need to render you unconscious first.”
A beam suddenly shot out toward Twilight. Fade had not summoned a panel, and Twilight had been too distracted to feel the characteristic distortion of the device. Twilight was struck from the side, though, and tumbled into the snow. Rarity had jumped on her, pushing her out of the way.
Twilight rolled a distance and then stood up, wondering why she suddenly felt so cold. She looked down at herself, but rather than finding a horrendous injury as she expected, she instead discovered that she was nude.
“Rarity!” she cried, looking up to see Rarity charging toward one of the remni wizards wearing full morphiplasm armor. “My clothes!”
“Borrowing it, darling! I’ll have it right back!”
“Rarity!”
“Alright!” cried Rainbow Dash as she bated her wings. “Let’s do this!” Then, despite her previous injury, she charged recklessly toward one of the other remni, barely managing to dodge a complicated net-spell that would have ensnared any slower pony.
Twilight sighed and stood next to Applejack. “Do you think you can win this one, AJ?”
“What are you talking about? I won the last one! And I’m not a violent pony anyway- -GAH!” Twilight cast a levitation around them both as the ground below them began to liquefy from a technospell.
“Well, that’s just not fair…”
Rainbow Dash reached her opponent in a fraction of a second. Despite her speed, though, as a machine his reaction time was faster than hers. He dodged, turning one of his eyes to scan her as she passed.
“My observations indicate that you are injured,” he said. “Please refrain from fighting. I do not want to risk injury to you.”
“Fat chance!”
She swooped down again, and the remnus coated himself in magical armor. He was not sure why; there was literally nothing a pony could do to him without any sort of weapon or spell. The most she could manage would be to slap him slightly, which would be essentially trivial. Yet, somehow, he felt distantly threatened. The idea of a small, colorful creature moving so quickly spooked him slightly.
“I cannot allow you to injure yourself,” he said as Rainbow Dash rebounded off his armor. He opened a panel and processed a different spell. This one was quite a bit more advanced than a stun or shield spell, and he felt his processing power momentarily drop.
Then the spell activated. Rainbow Dash, who was coming around for another pass, seemed to slow. She was still moving at the same speed and still leaving a characteristic rainbow contrail, but time for her was moving more slowly than it was for the remnus. Time spells that allowed the user to travel back in time were, of course, forbidden, but such things were far beyond the ability of a remnus or really even any pony save for the pure alicorns and perhaps the witchlord Sarkon Vortrenth. This spell was far more primitive; it only slowed time relative to the caster.
The remnus stepped forward, feeling the massive strain on his mechanical body as he did so. He approached Rainbow Dash, preparing a stun spell. His observations indicated that she was close to opening old wounds, and he needed to act quickly if she was going to be recoverable.
That was when he felt something plop onto his back. His eyes revolved to see what had landed on him, and he saw a pink, curly-maned pony sitting on him.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hello,” he replied. She smiled in real-time. “Well,” he said, “that’s an anomaly. I should take this down…”
“What were you going to do to Rainbow Dash?”
“Stun her. Then retrieve her.”
“In a sack?”
“Excuse me?”
“In a sack. You were going to shove Rainbow Dash in a sack! You were going to play a game of disappearing ponies!”
“I assure you, there is no sack involved. There are five remni here. We anticipated that each would carry one stunned pony, and the Goddess would join us on her own.”
“You’re counting Silkie.”
“Silken.”
“But she’s so silky smooth.”
“You would be surprised.” The remnus paused. “Could you please get off my back? I do not appreciate being ridden like a horse.”
Pinkie Pie make a facial expression that the remnus did not recognize. “You mean you don’t like pony rides?”
“Not if I am the pony being ridden, no. And I am not a pony. I am a remnus. There are physiological distinctions.”
“Are you saying you want to get me off?” “I’m saying that I am about to capture you.”
Pinkie Pie giggled in a way that made the remnus feel distinctly uncomfortable. “You can sure try!”
He did indeed try. He moved rapidly, even though doing so caused the time spell to immediately shatter. Strangely, though, despite his mechanical speed, he was unable to catch the pink pony. She just kept slipping out of his grasp, even when- -after several attempts that no doubt would have looked comical to any observer- -he actually did grab her.
As she literally slipped out of his grasp, he looked down at his long, pointed front legs and saw that they were covered in an oily fluid.
“Is this…butter?” he looked up. “Where did you find butter in a place like this?”
“That’s for me to know,” giggled Pinkie Pie, “and for you to find out!”
In the time that it had taken Pinkie Pie and her opponent to speak in hyper-time, Rarity had reached her target. The remnus took a defensive position, digging her pointed feet into the icy ground. She was not entirely sure what to expect, but her analysis of the incoming target indicated that she was capable of biological magic. Biological magic was something the Cult had studied in great detail, but it was considered something of a divine mystery. The only living ponies that still possessed the ability to use it were the Tribunal, and now, this unicorn pony. This made the situation unpredictable.
The remnus expected some devastating attack, or even a formal wizard duel. She had prepared a number of shield spells and seals optimized for magic of any sort. What she did not expect, though, was for the white pony to bump softly into her lower legs. It was something like being stuck by a low-speed marshmallow.
“Did you just ram me?” she asked. “How rude!”
“My apologies, darling,” said Rarity. Had the remnus facing her still had blood, she might have blushed. White alicorns- -by their own definition of “white”- -were extremely rare. This white unicorn was both adorable and stately at the same time. “It was the only way to conduct the transfer.”
“Transfer?” The remnus looked down and only then realized that a foreign morphiplasm signature was crawling up her body. This was no doubt a lethal attack meant to hack and interfere with her own morphiplasm; she could fight the infection, but depending on how powerful this unicorn was time might be very short.
She took a rapid step forward, intending to strike the unicorn in the horn and attempt to knock her out. As she did, she noticed that the pony had retained some of the morphiplasm on her own body, a portion that covered her rear skull and her spine. It was an interface, and the remnus was validated.
Except that she was wrong. She got two steps before, rather than cutting into her internal systems, the morphiplasm suddenly sprang out and formed a long, elegant dress.
“Wh- -what?” she said, looking down, and then at the pony. “What did you do to me?”
“I made you a dress.” She raised an eyebrown and seemed to think for a moment. “But the height is more challenging than I thought it would be. Maybe an accent on the upper body?” The pattern on the Remnus’s admittedly tiny torso changed slightly, and a pleasant brooch appeared in the center of her chest. “There! Much better!”
“How am I supposed to fight you in formalwear?”
“You’re not, darling!” said the unicorn with a mischievous smile. “See? I win.”
“This isn’t going to stop me.” She charged a spell and stepped forward. “I still can- -”
The clothing shifted again, this time forming a stunning black suit over a brilliant purple blouse.
“Oh my,” said the remnus, poking at the glossy fabric of the blouse. “Is this silk? How did you do that?”
“Well, that’s my little secret! But if you must know, it’s a matter of the weave direction…”
Of the other two Cult remni, only one remained unoccupied. She had been providing support to Corona Fade in the form of calculation assistance and cover-fire, but that had turned out to be largely unnecessary. Despite physically fighting a remnus twenty times her age- -something as difficult as it was rare to encounter- -and defending herself from the Goddess Twilight Sparkle, she was actually holding her own. There were rumors that in life, Fade had been the head of Twilight Sparkle’s personal military forces. From her skill at combat, this might very well have been true.
The remaining remnus took a survey of the crowd. Her brother was engaged with the pink and rainbow ponies, and sister appeared to be trying on dresses. This left her to deal with either attempting to deal with the pale orange pony that was assisting the Goddess or to attack the pastel yellow one that appeared to be cowering far away from the action. The most logical choice was to attack the weak pony and return to the fight, perhaps using her unconscious body as leverage to get the others to surrender.
She moved forward at incredibly speed, easily outpacing the pale-orange pony’s reaction time and breaking past toward the pastel. The remnus lifted a needle-like foot and drove it down. The pastel pony squeaked loudly and barely managed to dodge in time, leaving the remnus’s limb to imbed itself a food into the rocks below her.
“Be careful,” ordered Corona Fade through their shared transmission channel. Now she was fighting an elder remnus, a Goddess, a pony, and talking. “We agreed on nonlethal retrieval.”
“The cybernetic architecture will rebuild small holes.”
“They do not have cybernetic architecture.”
The remus paused. “Oh. I did not know that.”
By this time, the pale-yellow pony was weeping and running into the forest wildly. She had wings that no doubt worked, but in her fear they had clamped closed. This was an unfortunate situation; the remnus was actively detecting over one thousand individual species of fauna in the woods. The yellow pony would no doubt be in danger from the native animals.
The Pegasus was fat and slow. The remnus pursued quickly and efficiently, moving rapidly over the rough terrain without difficulties even as the Pegasus was stumbling and falling over herself. Even when she managed to attempt to hide, the remnus would simply track her by the trail of salty fluid she was leaving. This trail, hopefully, consisted of tears.
The chase was short. The remnus cornered the yellow Pegasus beneath a large tree root. She was defenseless and soft, quivering from fear against the root and stone.
“P- -please!” she pleaded. “Don’t hurt me! I bruise easily! Can’t we solve this nonviolently? Over tea, maybe?”
“I do not have the capacity to drink tea,” said the remnus. “Nor did I like it when I did. It tastes like old leaves.” She began a spell. It was an ordinary stun spell, but she had increased the voltage substantially in the name of curiosity. She wondered what that would do to an organic.”
“No! Stop! I’ll- -I’ll go with you!”
“Yes you will. Ideally in a sack.”
The spell began to fire, but was suddenly distorted by a failure in targeting. The remnus took a few steps back, confused as to why her optics were not functioning. Then her internal diagnostic systems began to indicate that she had been coated with fluid, and that it was massively corrosive. Her entire outer surface was dissolving.
She looked up to see an arthropod. It’s body had previously been obscured by the well-trimmed greenery and fungus that covered its body.
“Simon!” cried Fluttershy, looking up at her vinegaroon friend.
The remnus took several steps back, reeling from having been covered in Simon’s vinegar. When she looked up, Fluttershy screamed. The remnus’s surface had been partially burned away, revealing robotics and a skeletal face with one badly damaged eye peering out at her through an uneven blue pupil.
“Oh my Celestia!” squeaked Fluttershy. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize that, you know…well, I kind of did, but…here, let me help you! It- -it’s not that bad!”
“No,” said the remnus. “It isn’t. I’m a machine. I don’t have pain receptors. This is unfortunate, but it will heal. Quickly. However,” she turned to Simon, “I do not like interference in my hunt.” She powered up a spell, and before the creature could react it was trapped in a crystal-like structure of orange magic.
“Simon!” cried Fluttershy. “Nooooo!”
“That was oddly effective,” said the remnus. “I have decided to use the same spell on YOU.”
The Pegasus released a high sound and ran. The remnus followed, but her speed was badly impacted by the fact that she now had acid in her joints. The pursuit was now more even, although the remnus still managed to catch up to the pony as she approached a number of stacked rocks surrounded by small, waving tendrils.
“You cannot escape me. I will catch you. And then I will treat you with great respect and care. And also electrocute you. Because I want to see what happens.”
“Please, help!” cried the Pegasus. “Somepony help me!”
“That is what I am trying to do,” said the remnus. She approached the ring of rocks and, due to her failing body, accidentally tipped over one of the stone columns. The tendrils suddenly became excited and wrapped around one of her legs- -and then pulled back into the ground.
A massive head suddenly shot out of the ground, opening its wide mouth wide to reveal hundreds of rows of needle-like teeth. The remnus did not have time to react; she was bitten in half and swallowed immediately. The many-eyed worm creature then turned to Fluttershy and looked at her.
“Oh my,” said Fluttershy. “You didn’t have to eat her!” The creature let out a series of light clicks, and Fluttershy hugged it. “I know, I know. It’s in your nature to eat tasty things. I just hope she’s alright.”
“I am,” said a muffled voice from inside the creature. “Although I would be better if I were outside.”
“Oh,” said Fluttershy, looking slightly disturbed. She looked up at the creature, and its many largely blind silver eyes looked back at her. “Well, I don’t know if that is really possible…”
“Then could you send my rear half in? That is where my technomagic assembly is.”
Fluttershy looked at the still-moving rear half of the machine. It was somewhat disturbing. “Um…no. You’ll just have to find your own way out.”
“And how do I do that?”
“Just wait. You’ll be fine. Although you ought to feel ashamed of yourself for giving this poor creature indigestion! You’ll pass in two to three weeks.”
“I see. So I’m getting vaporized with the planet. And all of you.” Fluttershy could almost feel the shrug through the worm-maggot’s thick hide. “Oh well. I guess I have to go sometime. Again. And it’s probably better than getting ‘passed’.”
Twilight parried a blast of magic, altering the mathematical predictions based around the spell to divert it. Corona Fade’s coding pattern was complex, as would be expected, but paradoxically it made it easier for Twilight to create parallel neutralizing systems. She was not sure, but she had a suspicion that Corona Fade had once been called Albedo Shine; a powerful pony, to be sure, but one who had always considered advanced study as somewhat inferior to practical magic. If that were the case- -and Twilight were correct concerning her identity- -that gave her an advantage.
The advantage was limited, though. Silken was still engaged, and the fight moved at a pace that was entirely reasonable if not downright slow for remni but that was more or less a blur to Twilight. She could use targeting spells to determine where she needed to hit, but even in her nearly-healed state the power drain would be too much for her. Without them, there was too great a risk that she would hit Silken.
The two of them were not evenly matched. Silken was an older and more experienced remnus, But Fade had a Cult-built body that was substantially more advanced. Strangely, though, neither of them seemed to be trying especially hard.
“This is absurd,” said Fade. It was somewhat jarring that her voice sounded consistent and without even the slightest hint of being out of breath. She did not breathe, of course, but it was strange nonetheless.
“I agree,” said Silken. “However, if you will not retreat willingly I must oust you.”
“That would leave the Goddess vulnerable. Are you prepared to accept the responsibility for that?”
“I am a remnus. I am free of all responsibility.”
“The time had come where we no longer have the luxury to maintain that tired affirmation.”
They slammed into each other, locking in position for a moment. Twilight saw her opening. She charged her horn and directed it toward Corona Fade’s central processor.
She fired without hesitation. One of Silken’s eyes shifted toward her, though, and saw what she was doing. Suddenly, one of her long legs wrapped around Fade’s neck and pulled her downward toward the ground. The beam passed over her head, burning a sixty-foot deep circular hole through a nearby granite rock formation.
It was at that moment that Twilight was tackled from the side. She turned to see one of the other remni, the male one that had been fighting Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie. It had broken free in an attempt to defend its leader. Pinkie and Rainbow Dash had been able to slow him, but not stop him.
He charged. Twilight reacted instinctively, charging a teleportation spell to dodge. Only after the spell was complete did she remember the effects of teleportation through Equestria’s fallout on the pony brain. She could not possibly teleport herself without leaving herself vulnerable or worse. So, instead, she fired the spell at the oncoming remnus.
There was a snap. The remnus vanished in a plume of pink-violet light, and then appeared in a similar surge twenty feet away.
He looked around confused. “Huh?” he said. “How did I get over here?”
Twilight saw her chance, and charged her horn again. She fired at him while he was still confused, and he could not raise a defensive spell in time. He was teleported again, this time to a location on a continent several thousand miles away.
That spell would have been challenging on a good day, but in this circumstance it had been positively draining. Twilight took a breath and fell back. As she did, she spied Applejack. She had originally retreated into the forest to try to help Fluttershy.
“How is she?” gasped Twilight, suddenly realizing just how concerned she was.
“She’s fine. Did you- -whoa!”
Applejack barely managed to dodge as Silken was thrown past her and into a rock. Silken’s legs flailed out in various unpleasant looking directions. Her body was badly damaged, but it was rapidly repairing itself.
“Well, that count’s as tagging out if I ever did see it,” said Applejack. “I guess it’s my turn!”
“Applejack! You can’t! Don’t be an idiot- -”
It was too late. Before Twilight could stop her, she stepped forward against Fade.
Fade looked down at Applejack, neither amused nor concerned. “I am not going to fight you.”
“Afraid you’re going to get your flank handed to you on a silver platter?”
“The silver platter is extraneous. No. You are not a remnus. I have no desire to injure you.”
“This isn’t my first scrap,” said Applejack.
“Nevertheless. No.”
Fade raised a spell. Twilight reacted, dodging it, but without Silken to distract her Fade was able to perform an unexpectedly complex spell, one of the sort that Albedo Shine never would have been able to perform. The front end of the spell used a triton-style algorithm; when it hit Twilight’s shield, it split into three portions. Twilight managed to summon a second shield to block one of the secondary heads, but she did not have time to stop the other one. It arced outward and struck Applejack in the side.
Applejack cried out and stumbled, but did not fall. This seemed to surprise Twilight and Fade equally.
“Interesting,” said Fade. “That was a grate four stun spell. It should have rendered you unconscious for the better part of a week. Either you are far more durable than you appear, or your physiology is vastly different from that of a modern pony.”
“Or you’re just bad at magic,” groaned Applejack, swaying as she tried to stand.
“Perhaps,” said Fade, stepping forward gracefully. “However, you are a secondary objective. So go away.” She lifted one long leg and kicked Applejack in the chest. The force was so great that Applejack sailed through the air and slammed hard into the lower trunk of one of the enormous trees.
“Applejack!” cried Twilight.
“Now,” said Fade, turning to Twilight. “Protecting you is my primary objective, so if you do not mind- -”
“I’m not through yet,” said Applejack, standing up.
Fade sighed. She did not turn away from Twilight. “Stop trying to fight me,” she said. “As I have stated, you are not my concern save for the fact that I do not want to accidentally injure you.”
` “You think that little poke is gonna do anything to ME?”
“If I had wanted to, I could have sent you through that tree and the rock face behind it.” Fade turned to Applejack. “Calm yourself. Your cutie mark betrays you. You are not specialized for fighting.”
“You’re right about that,” said Applejack. “But do you know what my cutie mark is in?”
“What?”
“Apples.”
Without warning, Applejack lifted her full weight onto her front legs. There was a moment of pause where Twilight could see every muscle on the earth-pony’s body tighten and every sinew stand tight. Then, with a deafening force, she bucked the tree behind her.
For a moment, nothing happened. Fade looked to Twilight, and then to Applejack, confused.
“What did that tree ever do to you?” she asked. “That is unhealthy for the bark- -”
She barely managed to dodge as an apple three times her size fell to the ground beside her, bursting open in a plume of juice and seeds. Fade landed gracefully out of the path, but before she even had two hooves on the ground another three apples fell. Two of them exploded, but the third landed without harm and extended its legs. Fade had not been expecting this, and as the next batch of apples fell she tripped over the ambulatory one and fell directly into the path of a fifteen-foot wide golden delicious.
The apple struck her, and the force was so great that it momentarily imbedded her entire body into the apple’s center, trapping her. Twilight once again saw a chance. She did not have enough energy left for a beam spell or shield summoning program, but she did have enough for a transmutation procedure.
Her magic struck the apple and changed it. The golden flesh expanded and shifted, becoming translucent citrine. It formed a new structure, one charged by magic that could not be broken by normal means; a spell ingrained on matter of Twilight’s choosing. Corona Fade attempted to tear her way out of the apple, but by then it was too late. The fleshy edible mass had been converted into unbreakable crystal.
Fade struggled, but was unable to escape. Silken, by this time, had repaired herself. She stood up and approached the defeated foe.
“I cannot escape,” said Fade.
“No. You cannot.” Silken drew back one of her pointed hooves, and then rammed it forward through Fade’s forehead. Fade’s body twitched as Silken tore out a silvery oblong shape from her opponent’s skull.
“SILKEN!” cried Applejack, looking as though she were about to be sick.
Silken looked back, still holding Fade’s central processor as it dripped black fluid but otherwise looking profoundly confused.
“What?”
Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie approached as well, and when they saw what Silken had done they gasped.
“Dude!” cried Rainbow Dash. “Did you just…you didn’t- -”
“That isn’t something we do!” cried Applejack.
“Yeah,” agreed Pinkie Pie, who looked even sicker than Applejack.
Silken still appeared confused. “I do not understand.”
“Imagine it from their perspective,” said Twilight.
“Why would you trust me? Corollary: why would you distrust me? I have not done her any harm.”
“Harm? HARM? You just yanked her thinker!”
“Yes. And it is still intact.” Silken held it up. “This is not unusual. The central processor of a remnus can indeed be abstracted safely. She most likely shut down to low-power mode.” Silken looked down at Fade’s body, which had begun to liquefy. Twilight permitted it to leave the crystal, and the morphiplasm assembled itself into a large white sphere that contain the more expensive portions of Fade’s body within.
“I don’t even know what half that means!”
“I don’t know what any of it means,” said Pinkie Pie. “But…I wasn’t paying attention…so…”
“It means she is asleep,” said Silken. “A remnus exists so long as her processor is intact, regardless of what body it is placed in or whether it has a body at all.”
“Indeed,” said the last functional Remnus. She approached the group slowly, moving elegantly in a swirling dress adorned with various symmetrical jewelry. This sight alone was shocking, but the others took a defensive stance, ready to fight her. Twilight’s eyes only left her for a moment at the sound of moving brush behind her; what she saw was Fluttershy riding atop the head of a vast and terrible creature, a worm with the head of a lizard and the body of a feathered maggot. It was detestable, but at Fluttershy’s command it braced itself to defend her.
“What is this?” said the remnus. “Oh. My apologies. I yield.”
Silken immediately relaxed and smiled. She then stepped forward.
“Silken!” hissed Rainbow Dash. “Don’t approach the enemy!”
“She is not our enemy. She yielded.”
“Indeed,” said the other remnus.
“Wait,” said Applejack. “And that’s just it? You can do that?”
“That isn’t fair!” cried Rainbow Dash. “I wanted a FIGHT!”
“I think it’s very chivalrous,” commented Rarity, who was approaching at the heels of the remnus beside her. “It’s certainly a more civilized way to do things, isn’t it?”
“But, you’re just giving up? Like that?”
The remnus stared at Rainbow Dash. “Of course. For one, I am not dressed for combat. Second, you have incapacitated my comrades. One has been cored, one eaten, and one is almost surely wandering around confused somewhere. My primary objective has shifted to collecting them, and returning them to safety in orbit.” She paused. “Before the planetary demolition, of course.”
“And just how are you going to do that?” asked Fluttershy, suspiciously.
The renmus looked up at the creature that Fluttershy was standing on. “With great difficulty, I think.” She turned slowly to Twilight. “However, Goddess, I must make one more plea for you to come with us.”
“I think my answer is pretty apparent.”
“Nevertheless, I must ask. Please. While it may not be clear in my present state, I was once one of your devoted followers. The name I bore is now of no consequence, but I worshipped you for my entire life. Longer, even, as I still owe my allegiance to you now.”
“I doubt that.”
“So you may. It is your prerogative. But know that I am sincere when I ask you if this is what you really want. Do not answer. I do not need to know your response. But be sure that your choice is the correct one. Because when the dimensional hammer is used, there will be no going back.”
Twilight looked up at her, staring into the remnus’s unblinking eyes. The false-eyes of a pony who had known death, the one thing that according to all calculations Twilight could never know. She did not answer the remnus’s question, though, as she did not know the answer yet.
A problem had arisen in the lowest prison block. A mare had been dispatched to that part of the now fully reconfigured naval vessel to deal with whatever issue she might find. This mare was, specifically, the large mare that tended to be found around Light Gloom. She had a name, of course, but refused to go by it. She was of an admittedly minority opinion that if one was wearing a mask, their identity was supposed to be kept secret.
There was really no other reason for it except for anonymity, as far as she could see. There was certainly no reason to hide her face; she, at least in her own opinion, was quite beautiful. Stunning, even. No implant or surgical scar had marred her face, and she would never dream of allowing such a thing. That could not be said for the others, of course. There was a clear reason they wore masks. She had seen them, and seen what they had looked like in the earliest ages of the Cult. Gaunt, pale, with wide eyes that never blinked and revealed various machines that swam in the vitreous humor.
In ancient times, members had donned masks to hide their alterations from the uninitiated, so that they could move among pony society without disturbing others. In time, it had grown into a sign of humility to the Second-Least Goddess. Then, in time, the masks had become part of them, merged to their cybernetic bodies as closely as the computers that even by that time had slowly started to eat their living brains. The tall mare- -her name perpetually hidden by the mask she wore- -wondered what purpose they had come to serve now in the most modern age.
She ruminated on these thoughts as she entered the mechanical door that had been constructed at the juncture between the ship and the brig that Light Gloom had constructed. The room beyond was large and round, although not circular. It had an eccentric and slightly oblong shape, its form determined by the same mathematics that decided the shape of all Cult ships.
The mare immediately noticed the problem. She did not see it, but she heard it. From across the room came a low, wet wheezing sound. It was intermittent and not even; the large mare immediately understood that it was from labored breathing.
She approached the cell. It’s front surface was constructed of transparent morphiplasm, more for the prisoner’s sake than the ponies who might have to examine them. This particular cell was identical to the others, but the pony it held was certainly not. This was the location where Light Gloom had deposited the ship’s former captain.
The captain was lying on the ground in exactly the same uncomfortable, messy position she had been in the whole time. Her body was too atrophied to even turn herself over. It really was a pitiful sight; her legs splayed at random, and her formerly perfect mane and tale spread about in disarray. She looked weak and vulnerable. She was also breathing with extreme difficulty and gurgling. A pool of silver fluid had formed beneath her mouth and was growing.
“What is this?” said the mare, somewhat disgusted.
“Are you that thick?” called a voice from an adjacent cell.
The mare looked up. “What did you just call me? Who are you?”
“Heliotrope,” said the alicorn mare, pressing her head close to the glass and glaring harshly out. “Head logistics officer. Not that you care. And I called you thick, because if you can’t tell what’s wrong, you certainly are.”
“She is ill.”
“Of course she’s ill!” cried Heliotrope. “Do you have any idea what you did to her?”
“Nothing. Not me, personally.”
“I mean it collectively, don’t be a dunce.” Heliotrope looked at the captain, and the tall mare saw the pained expression on her face. “You tore her out of the machinery. That’s never been done before! It’s too dangerous! Her body can’t survive without the connection to the ship! She’s dying!”
“So?”
Heliotrope’s eyes narrowed. “So? How dare you say that!”
“I’m…fine…” gurgled the captain, coughing softly and spraying silver fluid onto one of the nearby walls. Her large, blind eyes swiveled upward, searching for something that might have at least the silhouette of a pony. One of the eyes fell on the tall mare, although the mare could not be sure the captain actually saw any part of her.
“No, she isn’t,” said Heliotrope. “She’s trying to hold on to at least some shred of honor after the humiliation you put her through. But her organs are collapsing.”
“Please!” said a higher, third voice. A pair of large eyes poked to the edge of another cell. The large mare recognized those eyes as the one of the pony she had seen in the Dream Realm, Inky Nebula. Apart from her identity, it was also apparent that the young mare was crying. “Please, you have to help her!”
“Inky?” said the captain, trying to lift her head. “Inky…don’t show her any fear. You’re…better than that…I’m fine…I’m…fine…”
The tall mare looked at the gasping shell of a pony on the floor and considered for a moment.
“I will send a Cult medic,” said the large mare at last.
“No you won’t,” said Heliotrope.”
“I won’t?”
“No! What is she, an academic surgeon? Somepony who has never seen a real patient except in simulations and books? There is no way you have anypony who knows how help her!”
“Then the alternative is to leave her. Which you clearly do not want. So stop yelling.”
“I’m not yelling!” Heliotrope pointed across the room to a large, curved cell. It was filled with captured remni who had not yet been updated with their new Cult of Twilight Sparkle colors. They were standing and calmly watching, waiting for their turn. “We have a medical unit in there, one SPECIFICALLY programmed to deal with the medical consequences of her integration.”
“You want me to give her a remnus? No. Denied.”
“No!” cried Inky. “Please! Don’t do this to her, she doesn’t deserve this!”
Golden Star, who had been waiting patiently across the room, stood up in his cell. “What could a remnus possibly do?” he asked. “Especially a medical unit. These cells could withstand a tritium explosion. There is no way one could punch her way out.”
The mare looked at him for a moment. Once she had deemed him profoundly and disappointingly unattractive, she turned to the remni.
“Medical unit,” she said, “step forward.”
The group parted easily through a coordinated effort, and one of them stepped forward. She was all white, with a red cross on the shoulder where Cult remni bore the sign of the One-and-Five.
“Identify yourself.”
“My name is Finality,” said the remnus. Her voice was smooth and calming; it had quite clearly been programmed that way. “I am the ranking remni medical hub, cybernetics engineer, and personal surgeon to the captain.”
“Fine,” said the mare. She approached the transparent morphiplasm that kept the remni in and touched her hoof to it. “Step forward. Only you. The rest of you, stand back two meters.”
The remni stepped back obediently, and Finality stepped forward. She did not hesitate at the seemingly solid surface ahead of her; nor did she need to. As soon as her body touched it, she passed through as though it were liquid.
As soon as she was through, the material resolidified. The mare pointed toward the captain, and Finality quickly changed course. The mare followed her, and put her hoof on the morphiplasm to allow the remnus to move through. Once she had, the morphiplasm once again became absolutely solid and nearly indestructible. Neither of them would be able to leave.
“There,” said the mare, turning to the door. “I have done everything I can. Call me when you want an actual doctor.”
With that, she left. Heliotrope continued to stare at where she had been. “I do not like her,” she growled.
“I think we all do,” said the captain, now without a hint of the wheezing that had seemed to consume her before. She spit against the wall, swearing under her breath. In order to make the illusion as realistic as possible, she had been forced to bite the tip of her tongue quite hard. It smarted quite badly, and had left her whole mouth tasting like metal from the blood.
The captain turned her head in the direction of the others. “Inky,” she said.
“Yes, captain?” said the young mare.
“The suppression field?”
“Still active.”
“Light Gloom is going to notice a hole in his sensors,” said Golden Star.
“Not it there isn’t a hole,” said Nebula, smiling as she wiped away the tears she had managed to summon on command. “Because I’m not just suppressing. I’m feeding him data.”
Golden Star looked impressed. “You can do that?”
“It takes a great deal of concentration and imagination,” said Nebula, “but yes. I can. And as long as Light Gloom is busy directing the whole ship, I don’t think he’ll notice.”
“We can hope,” said the captain. “But we still have to hurry.” She looked up at the remnus over her, who was watching patiently. “Sorry, Finality. In case you didn’t know, I’m not actually sick.”
“Oh, I know,” said Finality. “I am a medical unit, after all. I was reading your vitals from the other cell. You’re quite healthy, even if you can’t walk.”
“But you still came.”
“I did. Because I did not see a reason not to.”
“Not until they stamp Twilight’s star on your shoulder,” said Heliotrope, darkly.
“Yes,” said Finality. “At that point, I would become property of the Cult of Twilight Sparkle, and be loyal to them. We are equipment, Ms. Heliotrope. Property. That is how this works.”
“You’re also good liars,” said the captain.
Finality paused for a moment. “Yes,” she said after some consideration. “We are.”
“I needed a remnus,” said the captain.
“Why?”
The captain turned her eyes toward Finality’s, and stared into what she could see of the pair of blue pinpricks. “I need you to interface with me.”
Any artificial joy on Finality’s face vanished. If she had not already been pure white, she might even have gone pale. “No,” she said, plainly and sternly. “That is not possible.”
“Yes it is. I already have all the necessary implants.”
“Whether or not you have the implants has no bearing on whether or not I can allow you to do that, captain. We remni are not alive. To interface with us is to view the nature of death itself. A pony’s mental health cannot- -”
“Two percent.”
Finality paused. “Excuse me, captain?”
“My organic persistence value. It’s two percent.”
A gasp came from across the room, a sharp inhale from Inky Nebula’s cell. The others fell silent, but the captain could feel their eyes on her.
“No,” said Finality. “That is incorrect. Your medical records indicate that your organic persistence is over twenty two percent- -”
“Do you think I can’t manage to forge the results?”
Even Finality seemed shocked by this, or as shocked as a remnus could be. “Causing discrepancies in key medical values would result in- -”
“In what? A court marshal? What would they do, pull me out and put me in one of those robotic bodies like you? Because that’s what they would do anyway if they knew. Two paths leading to the same stinking hole.”
“You’re a remnus,” whispered Inky Nebula. Some tears rolled down her eyes. This time they were real. “Captain, you’re…you’re…”
“Dead,” said the captain. She lighted. “I know, Inky. I know. And I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing to me?” Inky stepped forward and pressed her hooves against the transparent front of her cell. “Captain, if I had known….if I had just known, I could have done something!”
“There’s nothing you could have done. I’m old, Inky. You’ll understand someday. But not today.” The captain looked up at Finality, who watched back. “Is two percent low enough?”
“It is,” said Finality, slowly, “but you need to be warned.” She gestured to the other remni. “Many of us would give anything to have two percent again. There are treatments that can slow the progression. Give you a few more years…”
“In a body that can’t even walk? They’ll never reconnect me to the ship. There’s no point without it. Finality. This is the last thing I can do.”
“Don’t say that,” said Inky.
“It’s not out of selflessness,” said the captain. “I’m angry. More angry than you can imagine. After what he did to me? I have to do SOMETHING.”
“Are you sure this is what you want?” said Finality. “If you link to me, your organic portion will not survive. You will persist, yes, but not in your current state.”
The captain looked up at Finality. “Do it.”
“Captain, no!” cried Inky, pounding weakly against the transparent morphiplasm of her cell.
None of the others protested. They watched solemnly, and the remni in the other cell all watched in mild amusement as thin set of glowing blue cables extended from the rear of Finality’s head and snaked down toward the implants on the back of the captain’s neck.
The captain took a deep breath. For all she knew, this was going to be her last. She was reminded of the time so many centuries ago when she had first been brought to this ship. She had been young, beautiful, and proud. She had stood at attention then, and they had performed the surgery. When they were done, they congratulated her. The doctors said that she had been the first they had ever seen who did not scream, even once. That was the last time that the captain had ever walked, and the last time she had possessed a name. Now it was happening again. She just hoped that this time she would manage to maintain her record of silence- -although she was, in secret, far less sure than she had been when she was just a filly.
The cables linked. It did not hurt, exactly. It was by no means comfortable. It was something akin to a reaction to a deafening but inharmonious sound, like the distortion vibrations from a bad reactor pile or the sound of aetherite being cut. It momentarily consumed all of the captain’s thoughts, and she wondered if in the real world she was screaming or not.
Visions pushed past her. She saw a distant structure, a farm in a megastructure she had never once set hoof on. In it, she saw flashes of a beautiful mare with astounding eyes, and a group of small children who played at her feet. This was accompanied by a certain grayness where death had faded the memory, along with the knowledge that came with it. That the beautiful mare had been taken not twenty years later, and that she had not passed on to be a remnus. That three of those children now lay in graves, and the youngest was an old stallion who’s memory was fading- -and one now stood down on Equestria, his body black and painted with the insignia of Twilight Sparkle.
It was maddening. There was a cold sorrow, an emptiness, and the captain suddenly understood. This was the nature of death in the perverse way that remni saw it. Instead of silence and peace, it had brought them only memories of the lives they once had lived, and the realization that none of it had ever mattered.
Little of this mattered to the captain, though. Her mind did not reflect what the pony who had become Finality had felt. There had been no beautiful mare or handsome stallion for her, and now children. That had been no home; that had been lost before she had even graduated the Academy. There was only the Ship, and Duty, and her role in all of it. Those things persisted within her regardless of whether she was alive or dead. For her, there were no regrets. She had lost nothing.
Then the interface stabilized. The captain felt the swirling mass of almost-thought that made up Finality’s brain. It was not that unlike her own. They were nearly identical, save for the fact that as a full remnus Finality had the hardware and infrastructure to perform tasks that the captain could not. The captain, likewise, had far more knowledge and power in a certain field than Finality ever would.
New blue strands emerged from Finality. They stretched out and tapped the hard metal of the walls. At first, nothing happened, but then the metal pulled away, drifting apart and becoming white liquid. The cables interfaced, and the captain entered the necessary codes to access the ship, using Finality for processing assistance.
“Alright,” she said, her voice coming from both their bodies. “I’m linked to a minor subsystem. I have access, but once I send any command Light Gloom is going to see me and react pretty quickly.”
“What do you need us to do?” asked Heliotrope.
“What can we do?” asked Inky. “Even if we get out, there’s no way we can get through the ship! He’ll just close it off!”
“I can open your cells,” said the captain, “but only for a few seconds at most. When I give you the order, jump through. All three of you. And whatever remni can get out, and are willing.”
“But then what?”
“Light Gloom can change the shape of my ship as much as he wants, but he can’t change the basic biology of it. Get through the door. It doesn’t have a lock; he assumed there’s no way we could get out of our cells. Take a right, then another right. There is a node there. Each of you take a piece.”
“But what will that do?”
“Morphiplasm integrates with morphiplasm, which means that the ship…” The captain groaned. “You know what? You’ll see. You’ll all know what to do. I trust you.”
“And what do we do after?” asked Golden Star. “Once we have the suits?”
“We take down Light Gloom,” said Heliotrope. “It is as simple as that.”
“No,” said the captain. “There is no way you could. The suits will let you move, for a time, but he’s a Twilight Cult mage. You couldn’t even put a scratch on him.”
“What, then?”
“The device,” said the captain, softly. “That thing he installed in our ship. It’s some kind of weapon, I think. I can’t tell. I don’t know the specifics. But I can feel it…he’s disabled our ship’s reactor, and he’s linked his own ship to that thing. To his power reactor. He is planning something, and it will put everything in jeopardy.”
“There is no way it can be that dangerous,” said Golden Star. From his tone, though, it was clear that even he did not believe his own words.
“We cannot risk it,” said the captain. “There are ponies on that planet. We cannot allow them to come to harm. They are our only hope.” One of Finality’s eyes swiveled. The captain was able to see through it. “So we have to hurry. Or, rather, you do. Once I open this, there will be less than a minute before the cultists arrived. Are you ready?”
The others did not answer. Inky Nebula was shaking. The captain felt like she had once known why, but could not remember. She took their silence as agreement.
“Alright,” said the captain. “Here we go. Get ready. Three…two…one!”
The ponies pressed forward, and virtually every remnus rammed the front of their cells. The captain struggled to keep the doors open, and she succeeded, if only partially. The three ponies beside her managed to get through, although the solidification of the glass tore out several of Heliotrope’s tail fibers.
The remni were not so lucky. Only one managed to get through, the engineer Journey End. She looked back, confused as to why her brothers and sisters were not able to come with her. She put her hoof on the cell, as if to help them, only to find that it was solid as stone.
“Go!” screamed the captain.
“But you- -” started Inky.
“Just GO!”
They obeyed, even if Heliotrope had to push Inky Nebula toward the door. When they reached the door, they found that the captain had been correct. It was not locked, and End opened it quickly with a technomagic spell.
The group poured through and followed their orders exactly. Doing so, though, would likely have been quite odd to see. They had been instructed to move quickly, and they did, but because of their biological limitations they were not capable of running. Only End was able to move rapidly; the rest could, at best, walk at a semi-brisk pace.
“We have to go faster!” cried Heliotrope, accelerating.
“Only if you want to break a leg,” said Golden Star. “Here! Turn here!”
They did, and there was indeed a node. The morphiplasm joint was loaded with the large, bulbous projections that each of them had seen daily but never given all that much thought to. There metal of Light Gloom’s design approached the node, but did not reach it completely. It was not able to; this was a fundamental part of the ship.
Each of them reached up, taking one of the pieces. Morphiplasm spread out down their hooves, coating their bodies as they did so. Within seconds, each of them was coated in an identical armored space suit.
“Now what?” said Inky Nebula. “What- -what do we do now?!”
The question was not answered, save by two cultists suddenly bursting around a corner in a full sprint. Their spells were already charged. End raised one of her own, an attempt at an impromptu shield, and deflected the first barrage. They recalculated, though, and the shield shattered on the second attack with a small explosion.
Inky Nebula cried as she jumped back in surprise. When she did, she struck one of the morphiplasm walls. To her even greater surprise, it gave her no resistance. Wherever her morphiplasm suit touched, the ship became completely fluid. With a high “eek!”, she listed and fell through the wall into a different corridor.
It was only a second before the others followed her. Golden Star reached down and helped her up.
“Are you hurt?”
“N…no,” said Inky. “Just shaken.”
“I think we know what she meant now,” said End.
Inky Nebula suddenly winced.
“Inky?” said a voice in her head.
“Captain!” she cried, overjoyed. “Where are you?”
“Back where I’m supposed to be. I’ve hacked the ship’s internal sensors, I can see you. I’m transmitting on an encrypted channel, but I don’t know how long it will hold up. I can guide you.”
The morphiplasm behind them suddenly opened, and the cultists stepped through. End promptly smacked one in the face so hard that both of them had to take a step back- -but even then, the cultists did not fall. In fact, she seemed completely unharmed.
“Go straight!” cried the captain.
“Straight where?!” replied Inky.
“Inky, we have to go!” cried Heliotrope, pushing her forward and through another corridor. Within seconds, they were all running at terrifying speeds, driven forward by the power assists in their suits.
“Which turns? Which corners?!” cried Inky.
“None! Just keep going straight! Don’t stop for anything!”
So, they did.
The bridge had changed. It was now extended forward and spread into a wide, vaguely triangular shape. There were no screens, and no windows. There was no logical sign of furniture, because none was needed.
Light Gloom was still linked to the ship’s internal systems, but he was not alone. The preparations to fire and aim the dimensional hammer demanded his full attention. As such, he had allowed Phosphorescence and Luminescence to integrate themselves into the ship as well. Each of them stood beside him, their brains linked to the hub overhead by the metal lines that ran from their spines and skulls.
Suddenly, Luminescence picked her head up. “An error has occurred.”
“What kind of error?” asked Light Gloom. He sounded calm- -or tried to- -even though this had happened at the worst possible time. “Report.”
“A remnus has integrated with the prisoner containment unit and released some of the occupants.”
“Impossible,” said Phosphorescence. “No remnus on this ship has the access codes or integrative knowledge to do so.”
“I know one,” said Light Gloom. “If you will indulge my conjecture: it is prison block one.”
“Correct,” said Luminescence. “The integrated remnus is Finality of Life, the ship’s head remnus medic.”
“A horrible name for a doctor,” muttered Phosphorescence.
“It is not her,” said Light Gloom. “She is just an interface front.”
“Reject her,” said Phosphorescence. “She is of no consequence.”
“I cannot,” said Luminescence, turning to her twin, her optics shifting and tightening as she did. “She has become entrenched within the system. I am unable to force her out.” Luminescence suddenly turned her head, as though she could see something new. “Update. The ship’s internal sensors indicate that the prisoners are moving.”
“Contain them,” said Phosphorescence. “Or blow them into space.”
“I cannot. I am sealing the passages, but they are still moving through them. Their bodies appear to be encased in homologous morphiplasm.”
“What is their destination?”
Luminescence paused for a moment. “My predictions based on the ship’s sensor data indicate that they are headed this way.”
“I can confirm that,” said Phosphorescence. “I am summoning our brothers and sisters to defend this location.”
“An interesting tactic,” said Light Gloom, thinking for a moment. “Almost as though they know that we cannot defend ourselves right now.” He turned to Luminescence. “We need to progress quickly, before they can stop us. Is the reactor ready?”
“Yes,” said Luminescence. “I am prepared to fire.”
“Do it. Clear the atmosphere.”
The ship hummed, and then shook slightly. The ship’s main reactor hummed to life, charging to a level that would have been able to power a vessel twenty times the Prodijila’s mass several hundred times the speed of light. It burned brightly, although none of the engineers who stood beside it were able to see it through their modified optics.
It rushed forward as it was ejected from the ship. Through the sensors, Light Gloom watched it drift toward the frozen and stormy planet in a slow, long arc. He and his comrades waited for what felt like several minutes, all watching it go.
The reactor descended, plunging into the planet’s stormy atmosphere toward its ionosphere. It vanished for a moment, obscured by the atmospheric fallout. The moments it was gone seemed to take even longer than the ones during which it had been traveling.
Then, suddenly, it detonated. There was a surge of light from the planet that glowed brighter than the sun, and the clouds around it suddenly retreated as the storms and all magic contained within them were driven away by a tidal wave of energy. The fallout storms were, for a time, annihilated, and Light Gloom looked down at the glowing remnants of a devastating atomic blast and the circle of clarity that surrounded it. It all looked so very small from above.
“Scanning,” said Phosphorescence, immediately beginning the process of searching for Mi’Amore Cadenza’s remains.
“Luminescence,” said Light Gloom, turning toward his young associate. “Have we heard word from Corona Fade?”
“No,” said Luminescence, her voice tinged with something that might at one time have been close to regret. “But we have received notice from one of her subordinates. The mission was a failure. They were unable to extract Twilight Sparkle.”
“That is unfortunate,” sighed Light Gloom.
“Shall we delay completion of the cure?”
“No. I have no intention of doing so. I never did. The dimensional hammer can only annihilate an alicorn on a direct or near direct hit. How far is the Goddess from the epicenter?”
“Two hundred fifty kilometers,” said Phosphorescence. “I can see her signal.”
“That is a close range,” said Light Gloom, calculating instantaneously. “But still far. She has an eighty seven percent chance of survival. We will recover the pieces from the wreckage and reconstruct her.”
“And if we cannot find all the pieces?”
“Then we rebuild her, as she rebuilt us.” Light Gloom watched through the sensors as the edges of the clear spot, formerly so neat and round, began to fade and become jagged as the eternal storms raced back toward where the reactor detonation had occurred. “Phosphorescence?”
“I have detected the signal, but residual surface effects are making it difficult to pinpoint. I need more time.”
“We have no more time. Your results are close enough.” Light Gloom looked at the planet through artificial eyes, and locked in the coordinates he had been given. “Firing.”
Inky Nebula, Heliotrope, Golden Star, and Journey End burst through the walls of the specially constructed cargo bay where the strange Cultist device had been assembled. Each of them had been expecting Cult mages to be present, but for some reason the room was empty, save for the massive machine that had been placed in the center.
It looked different. The surface of the device had been covered in conduits and cables that had not been there before, linking it to a different source of power than it had originally been intended to use. Likewise, it had unfolded somewhat; this made it far longer, to the point where it stretched out an opening on the far side of the bay. The room had no atmosphere, and it was possible to see the long pointed front of the cylinder facing downward at the distant planet below.
The machine was also running. The entire chamber was awash in radiation, and a signigicant portion of it was getting through the morphiplasm suits that the group wore. This hardly mattered to them, though; as creatures who had evolved in deep-space, they were far more resistant to radioactivity than their ancestors could ever have dreamed of being.
“The system is drawing power,” said Golden Star, his eyes flitting around in a panic as he observed various key points of the structure. “It’s preparing to fire!”
“We deactivate it!” said Heliotrope, rushing forward to the cables.
“Don not touch them!” cried Journey End. She pushed past Heliotrope and began work on the cables and conduits, attempting to pull them away while opening the access panels both on the ship and on the device that contained whatever controls either of them might have had.
It sparked badly, but Journey End did not attempt to dodge. Finding no luck with the control panels, she eventually just started tearing the conduits away. This created far worse sparks, and magical energy arced throughout the room, forcing the living ponies back.
This had no effect. A hum was permeating the room, and the pitch began to rise. This was in its own right inexplicable; the room had no air, so there should have been no sound at all. Yet all three of the living ponies heard it, and felt it. The hum of the machine vibrated deep within their horns, reminding each of them of an instinctive fear from a time that only the Goddesses remembered.
“I cannot deactivate it,” sad Journey End, stepping away. She pointed to the largest of the cables, which had not been cut. “It is still drawing power, I cannot cut it while it is still charging!”
“Not only that,” said Golden Star, a visor appearing over his eyes. “It is increasing internally in power! Even if we cut it off completely, it would still fire!”
Heliotrope picked up her head. “Captain. Please advise. Captain?”
There was no response. The interference from the device was too powerful. Heliotrope seemed to realize this, and a distressed expression crossed her face.
Inky Nebula looked at the machine, and at the planet below. The planet that Twilight Sparkle was still on, along with the friends she had recovered there. Nebula knew she had to do something, and then had an idea.
“Push it!” she said.
“What?” asked Golden Star. “I don’t- -”
“We can’t stop it, but we can move it! If we can change the angle, we can make it miss the planet!”
“But the radiation when it fires, we can’t- -”
“We can,” said Heliotrope. “But only if we work together!” She put her shoulder against the device, and a thin strip of smoke rose from it. Her morphiplasm thickened and expanded into heavy ropes of artificial muscle as she increased the power assist to maximum. Golden Star looked at Inky Nebula, even as Journey End pushed her remnus body against the device as well. Then the two remaining ponies joined, attempting to move it.
They struggled and strained, putting everything they had into moving the weapon. It moved, but only slightly. Inky Nebula looked to the planet, and saw that they had made no difference. The aperture at the end was still targeting it.
“By Celestia’s rump, End!” cried Heliotrope. “You just had to install this to code, didn’t you?!”
“Stop complaining and push!” cried Golden Star. “We have to!”
“We can’t!” said Inky. “We have to move it!”
“We’re not strong enough!”
Inky Nebula looked around, feeling her hope departing her. That was when she saw a large metal bracket barely visible below the cylinder. She gasped, and looked up at the remnus beside her. “Journey! The bracket!”
Journey End looked down and, seeing it, understood. She drew back her pointed hoof and struck it with all the force she could muster, shattering the metal that held it. The entire cylinder suddenly slumped, free of one of the linkages that had been holding it.
It was at this instant that Light Gloom triggered the final stage of the firing procedure. The internal reactor of the dimensional hammer revved to capacity, its centrifuges distorting the magical fields that made up the device’s core and tearing their way through several parallel realities, drawing sheer force from each one at an exponential rate. The blast from the charging knocked each of the ponies backward. Golden Star and Heliotrope were sent through a wall, and they phased through into the room beyond. Journey End, though, was thrown into a solid conduit. She jolted and shook as it sparked into her, and the white surface of her body began to burn as her peripheral circuitry collapsed.
Inky Nebula was knocked back as well, but she was knocked into Journey End, who insulated her from the conduit and kept her from passing through the wall and out of the room. The morphiplasm she wore dampened the impact and protected her body from physical damage, but Inky Nebula saw stars as her brain slammed into the inside of her skull. For a moment, she was confused, but regained some semblance of consciousness in time to see her vision filling with silver at the edges. Something had broken inside of her.
“No,” she said. “No! I won’t let you do it!”
She stood up and raced forward toward the machine.
“No!” cried End, attempting to drag herself forward with her one remaining functional leg. “You can’t! The field!”
Inky Nebula did not care. She understood the risk, but did not stop. Charging her power assist to maximum, she rammed her shoulder into the side of the weapon. There was a crack from inside it, but no pain. There was only a feeling of cold, and the whiplash once again struck Inky’s brain. Her thoughts slowed, but then accelerated vastly as her cybernetic architecture expanded vastly, compensation for the damage.
The whole world seemed to slow, and to loose color. Inky felt her head slowly turning as she looked down the barrel of the firing weapon. She could hear the air escaping through her armor, as it was burning off of her from contact with the dimensional field.
The end of the device tilted from the force of her impact, and she pushed harder than she ever had, turning it away from Equestria. Instead, it came to face the scarred, silver sphere that orbited the planet. Inky had only wanted to shift it away from the planet; while doing so, though, she had inadvertently forced it to target the moon.
It fired. The results were profoundly unimpressive. What it looked like to Inky was a thin, golden thread of light that emerged silently from the end aperture of the device. It stretched out like a laser, flickering and gleaming in a straight line toward the moon. For a few seconds, there was nothing. Nothing at all, save for silence.
Then, without warning, the moon detonated. There was a blast brighter than any star, so bright that what little morphiplasm Inky Nebula still had concentrated itself, attempting to protect her eyes. It was opaque, but yet she could still see. Every part of her ached and shook, down to her marrow, and she watched as the moon was torn apart in a vast explosion that she heard in her bones instead of in her ears.
The debris field progressed outward in the light, spreading away from the point of impact and outward in every direction- -for a moment. The light in the center changed, though, growing darker and more angry as the explosion seemed to freeze. The debris hung in space for a moment, and then retracted several hundred times faster than it had been expelled. It slammed inward, imploding with thunderous magical force. For a fraction of a second, there was a flash as it condensed.
There was no sound this time. It was just gone. The entire moon had not only been destroyed, but annihilated completely. There was nothing left, and no evidence it had even been there at all.
Inky Nebula fell backward. She felt immensely tired, and she could feel herself starting to go to sleep. She watched out the opening in the ship, looking where the moon had been and ignoring the blinking red light on her HUD that read “426 Greys”.
Before she faded away, she groaned. “Oh mane,” she said. “I just took out the moon. THE moon. Luna’s going to kill me!”
Light Gloom watched in horror. Throughout his mind, internal error warnings were screeching across his consciousness. So much of both ships had been so badly damaged by firing the hammer, and yet it had come to nothing.
He had been deceived, and only now did he understand that. They had never been heading for him. Phosphorescence and Luminescence had been tricked: somepony had hacked the internal sensors, providing the wrong data about the fugitives’ whereabouts. Light Gloom already knew who. There was only one pony who knew how to do something like that, and he realized too late that he had underestimated her.
“Complete miss,” said Luminescence.
“I am unable to locate Cadenza signal at present,” said Phosphorescence. “The atmosphere has self-corrected. I know its exact location, though. I also know that it was unaffected by the discharge.”
“We can prepare for another shot,” suggested Luminescence.
“No,” said Light Gloom, disconnecting himself from the ship. “We cannot.”
“Why?”
“The N689’s reactor was not optimized for this use. It suffered irreparable damage and is no longer functional. Both vessels are running on reserve power now.”
“So we are stranded,” said Luminescence.
“We already destroyed the correct reactor in the planet’s atmosphere,” said Phosphorescence. “So yes.”
Luminescence turned to Light Gloom. “Then all hope is lost.”
“If you had the capacity for hope,” said Light Gloom, “then you were neglecting the Cult. We do not need such things. We have plans.”
“You have a plan?” asked Phosphorescence, sounding incredulous.
“Of course. We now know the location of the remains. Prepare as many landing parties as you can. We will perform the task manually.” He paused. “But first, find the ponies responsible for attempting to doom our kind. Bring them to me. NOW.” e, but it:M?��5
The remni had departed. Twilight and her friends had won. They reacted to this course of events with joy, congratulating one another on their shared victory. They were happy and cheerful, and even Twilight, as amazed as she was, allowed herself to be carried away with the mood as they walked together.
“Did you see that?” said Rainbow Dash. “When Applejack hit that tree, and when Fluttershy showed up on that giant worm thing! I mean, even Fluttershy was awesome! FLUTTERSHY!”
“I’m always awesome, Rainbow Dash,” said Fluttershy.
“And Rarity beat one with dresses,” laughed Applejack. “Now, if you had told me that would ever happen I’d have said you were crazier than a chicken upside-down in a bucket of egg noodles. But it did!”
“Darling, fashion is the universal language. There is no need to fight when you and your opponents are both wearing FABULOUS clothing. That just wouldn’t do.”
“And what if you and your opponent aren’t wearing any clothing at all?” asked Rainbow Dash.
“Ooh! Ooh! I know!” giggled Pinkie Pie.
Twilight smiled, and was about to make a comment when the atmosphere detonated with a light brighter than ten thousand suns.
The entire world seemed to explode at once with light and sound. Twilight reacted instinctively, producing a shield around herself and her friends. She did her best to darken the surface to keep the intense light out, but even through it she could see the sky above alight as the force of a tremendous atomic blast forced back the high-atmospheric storms, dragging luminescent fallout with it. The shield did not keep out the sound, either: a deafening crack followed by rumbling caused by the distortions created by two forces greater than any storm feeding off each other as the sky was torn apart.
It was so loud and enormous, but Twilight was barely able to focus on it. Her friends were screaming, and cried out even louder as the sphere of magic was picked up by the force of the blast and thrown along with apples, stones, ice and plant material. Silken did her best to grab the ponies to secure them, but even that only helped a little.
The shield bounced several times and then struck a tree. The force was just too much, and Twilight could not maintain it. The bubble popped with an audible sound, and the ponies dropped into the mossy snow.
Fortunately, the main force of the detonation had cleared by this time. All that remained was the distant rumbling of the explosion propagating across the planet. To the others, it no doubt sounded like an intense barrage of thunder. To Twilight, it sounded like artillery. It was a sound she had heard in her life far more often than thunder.
She looked up and gasped. The storm had been forced away, and the sky was now clear. Up above was the nights sky, as clear and beautiful as it had been in the days long before it had been masked by pollution and later by endless storms of toxic fallout. It was the space where Twilight had spent the majority of her life, and yet from here on Equestria it looked so different. She saw the stars and the constellations sitting above next to the vast white moon, just as they had been when she was still young, or even when she was still mortal.
“What was that?!” cried Rarity as she desperately attempted to fix her hair.
“It’s the attack!” wailed Fluttershy. “It’s happening! We were wrong! We should have gone with them!” She then started crying. Applejack tried to comfort her, but both she and Rainbow Dash were looking at Twilight with expressions of grave concern on their faces. Pinkie Pie, meanwhile, was looking up.
“Ooh!” she said. “So pretty!”
“That wasn’t a dimensional hammer,” said Twilight.
“How do you know?” said Fluttershy. “It could have been!”
“Because the planet is still here.”
“That was a class six B detonation of a coaxial monocrystal reactor core,” said Silken. She looked at Twilight, and Twilight looked up at her concerned. “The same type of reactor that the Prodijila uses. With the same isotope signature.”
“The ship,” said Twilight. “You’re saying that the ship…”
“No. The ship is still intact. I have a visual on it. But they dumped the reactor into the ionosphere.”
“To clear the fallout,” said Twilight. “Those IDIOTS! They could have ignited the planet!”
“Twilight?” said Applejack.
“That idiot! He’s trying to clear the atmosphere for targeting!”
“Then how much time do we have?” asked Rainbow Dash.
“I don’t know, but- -”
“Ooh! Ooh! Pretty!” cried Pinkie Pie, jumping up and pointing.
“Yes, Pinkie, we know, the explosion was- -”
“Not the explosion! THAT!”
Twilight suddenly felt her head grabbed between a set of hooves and wrenched to one side. She looked up, and her eyes focused on something streaking across the sky. It was a pale silver light, one of many. They trailed through the clear sky, descending in wide arcs. The nearest of them sailed straight overhead. It cut through the canopy of trees, causing leaves and branches to fall as it bounced from trunk to trunk. Then, as quickly as it had come, it vanished over a small rocky hill with a distant thud.
“What was that?” said Applejack. “A shooting star?”
“Stars aren’t that low,” said Rainbow Dash. She looked at Twilight, concerned. “That was atmospheric. And it wasn’t any weather I know. And trust me, I know weather.”
“Did you…did you feel it?” asked Rarity, her eyes wide.
“Yeah,” said Twilight.
The others looked confused. “What do you mean?” asked Rainbow Dash. “I didn’t feel anything.”
“Neither did I,” said Applejack.
“I feel a little tingly,” said Pinkie. “And itchy. I blame Rainbow Dash.”
“Don’t blame me, it’s your fault!”
“All I feel is complete, paralyzing feeeeear!” wept Fluttershy.
“It had a magical signal,” said Twilight. “It…”
“It felt like it was in pain,” said Rarity, flatly. This immediately silenced the others. Twilight wished she could have disagreed, but she found herself unable to. The signal had not been in words, but she had known the instant she had felt it that it was a cry for help. A cry that was rapidly growing weaker even as the object crossed the sky.
“We have to find it,” said Rarity.
“Are you kidding?” said Rainbow Dash. “It came from hat big…explody…THING! We shouldn’t get anywhere near it!”
“Core detonation,” said Silken.
“Whatever! It can’t be good!”
“I have to agree with Rainbow on this,” said Applejack. “Whatever that was- -”
“Is,” corrected Rarity. She started toward where it had landed. “And I simply can’t deny help to somepony- -or something- -that asks! That would just not be proper!”
“Agreed,” said Twilight. “Even if we just investigate what it is.”
“Do we have time?” asked Silken.
Twilight gave her a look, and Silken understood. Of course there was time, or rather, a lack of it. There was no time to escape. All they could do was distract themselves while they waited for the hammer to fall.
For a few minutes, it seemed like it never would. The group walked toward where they had seen the strange object fall, clambering over the rough terrain and through the scrub and snow.
Then it did. Twilight and Rarity both suddenly screamed, their bodies wracked by sudden pain. To Twilight, it felt as though something had reached into the marrow of her bones and horn and was trying to shake her to pieces. The vibration was simply unbearable, even at such a profound range. What struck fear into her heart, though, was not her own pain. It was Rarity’s cries. What was most horrible to Twilight was the sound of her friend in pain.
“Twilight! Rarity!” cried Applejack. She sounded very distant. On some level, she must have felt it too. Or perhaps not. There was no guarantee that whatever was underneath her pony skin was capable of it, although Twilight thought that even in their present forms the non-magic users among them still had some sense that something horrible was going on.
Twilight was rolled onto her back. Through her blurred vision, she could see the dark sky overhead. As she looked up, she saw it. She saw the dimensional hammer fire.
It was not the kind of thing one could see with her eyes. The actual beam had a tremendously thin aspect ratio; it was less than a ten thousandth of a millimeter wide, surrounded by a quarter millimeter of dimensional plasma. It would have looked golden if seen up close, although such a thing was not possible to see as the feedback field surrounding a firing dimensional hammer would be invariably lethal to any organic life. Instead, it was something Twilight felt inside her body.
Her limbs suddenly convulsed, bending backward as ever muscle in her body uncontrollably tightened in a single, massive spasm. Twilight gritted her teeth and did her best to bear the maddening sensation of the tremendous discharge of magic. Her aetherite jewelry helped shield her to some extent, but not by much.
It was a feeling she remembered well, even if she wished she could have forgotten it. This was not the first time she had seen such a weapon fire. She had been there the very first time, her body clad in heavy metal shielding that no doubt made her look ridiculous. That was long before any pony had decided to turn the hammers into weapons, back when Twilight had created the first of them with the intention of averting an impending asteroid strike. But times had changed, and ponies continued to make improvements to what Twilight had originally conceived as a device to protect Equestria. They had become weapons, at first used as a rhetorical device for political threats until they had finally been deployed in a real war. It had been a war called the Second Lunar Insurrection, although no aspect of Luna’s kingdom bore any fault in it. Twilight still remembered the sound of those guns, and in this instant felt them again.
And, as Twilight watched, the moon was once again struck. As she looked up through the tears in her eyes, Twilight saw it shatter. There was no sound; it was too distant. The only sound she did hear was her friends crying out as they saw the debris expand from what had once been an inherent part of pony life. They were screaming because they saw the debris flying outward, falling toward the planet.
There was no need to fear an impact. The debris suddenly stopped, and then the moon seemed to pull itself back together. The sight was almost perversely hopeful; it was as if the damage were reversing itself. This, of course, was not the case. It was imploding as the target of the hammer was removed from existence.
The force of the implosion was greater than the explosion could ever have been. Twilight felt herself lifted off the ground, along with anything around her that was not already attached to the ground by roots or mass. Small plants, snow, rocks, ice- -they all moved upward slightly. The two lightest ponies- -Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash- -were pulled up substantially, and Rainbow Dash had to beat her wings in a panic to avoid rising to high.
Then, in an instant, it was gone. They all fell back to the floor. There was no more magic from above, and the entire world seemed to have gone silent.
Rarity moaned, rolling over as she grabbed her knees.
“Rarity!” Applejack put her hoof on Rarity’s shoulder. “Are you alright.”
“No, darling, I am most certainly not. That was…awful. Just awful.”
“They blew up the moon!” cried Pinkie Pie. “The MOON! How are we going to have tides? Or moon cheese! I used to LOVE moon cheese! AND tides!”
Twilight sat up. She had suffered no permanent damage, and nor had Rarity. They had just both been very shaken. “There is no way the moon was their target,” she said, rubbing her horn. “Somehow they missed.”
“They missed with a weapon like that,” mused Silken. “Light Gloom has awful aim indeed.”
“You have no idea.”
Silken’s eyes flitted to Twilight. “Really?”
Twilight cleared her throat awkwardly, and then stood up. She realized that she was shaking.
“Are you okay, Twi?” asked Rainbow Dash, steadying her on one side while Fluttershy took the other.
“I’m fine,” said Twilight, even though she felt nauseous. “Ugh. You’re not supposed to be near one of those without some sort of shielding. That was not fun.”
“It most certainly was not,” said Rarity, allowing Applejack to help her to a standing position. “I would say that I have been traumatized, completely! I don’t know if I will ever be the same! A lady’s nerves just aren’t meant for such shocks!”
“Your nerves should be glad they missed,” said Applejack. She looked sharply at Twilight. “If that had actually hit us…”
“I know,” said Twilight.
“And when your ‘old student’ gets around to reloading?”
“It could take days.”
“Or longer,” said Silken. “Considering the Prodijila’s reactor was detonated in the atmosphere, he may have been forced to improvise a power source.”
“We can’t assume that,” said Twilight. “For all we know, he has a whole fleet of cloaked ships up there.”
“Or just the one.”
Twilight first realized that something was wrong when they crested the hill. The area was filled with a type of brush that resembled long, vertical vines of wire-like green material. It made seeing things ahead difficult, but Twilight could still sense something ahead. The already cold air had grown even colder, and a knot seemed to have formed in Twilight’s stomach. She felt bad, and memories from her long life kept surfacing: how badly she had treated her friends, how she had been unable to save Starlight, or the countless others whose names she had never even known who remained during the Exodus, or the wars and weapons- -or the Mortality Virus.
Then, through the weeds, she caught sight of the object that had fallen and she understood. She extended her magic, stopping her friends.
“Twilight!” said Rainbow Dash, bouncing off the pink-violet wall. “Warn us before you do that!”
“Windigo,” said Twilight, her eyes wide. “It’s a windigo.”
“Windigo?” Applejack looked confused. “Twilight, that’s not possible, are you sure?”
“Look for yourself. But CAREFULLY.”
The ponies did. Twilgiht lowered the wall and they poked their heads through the reeds. A clearing sat beyond, and in it there was a small crater. In its center there was indeed a windigo. Its silver body lay amongst the snow and green moss, and it was releasing long, somber calls. Something appeared to be wrong with it: its normally silver body was coated in patches of pale violet that did not seem to be able to maintain a proper outline, and the wendigo was losing form in those locations. It was injured.
“Yup,” said Applejack, pulling her head back through. “I was wrong. That is a windigo. We need to go. Now.”
“Agreed,” said Twilight.
“We can’t!” cried Rarity.
“Quiet!” hissed Twilight. “It will hear you!”
“I don’t care! Look at it, Twilight, it’s hurt!” Rarity turned to Fluttershy, expecting support. Fluttershy just averted her gaze, rubbing one of her front legs against the other nervously.
“Fluttershy?”
“Well…it’s not an animal…so…”
“So you don’t even care? Fluttershy!”
“No, no, that’s not what I mean, it’s just…”
“It’s a creature that feeds on negative energy and disharmony,” said Applejack. “Rarity, I’d bet apples to eggplants you can feel it, just like the rest of us.”
“But why’s it on the ground?” asked Rainbow Dash, peeking through the plants again. “Aren’t windigoes supposed to be up in the sky or something?”
“Yeah,” said Pinkie Pie. There was a pause as she searched for a joke, but effects of the windigo were affecting her far more deeply than the others. She grasped for a moment, but then just fell silent.
“They are,” said Twilight. She too looked out at the creature. Logically, she knew that she was supposed to leave now, to escape from the vicious creature before more came. Somehow, though, she could not bear to leave it.
“Winigoes are ectoplasmic beings,” said Silken. “And while I am not familiar with their biology, they are indeed alive. And based on my extrapolation of their physiology, I can say with certainty that this one’s vital signs are dropping.”
“Dropping?” said Twilight, her breath catching in her throat.
Silken nodded. “As I said, they are ectoplasmic beings. Their bodies are made of condensed magic, and they dwell in storms.”
“The explosion,” said Twilight. “It was meant to neutralize magic, to clear the way for the sensors.” She turned toward the clearing. “This one must not have been able to outrun the blast…”
“It is injured,” said Silken. “Badly.”
“You heard it,” said Rarity. “Twilight, I know you heard it to. How much pain it was in. Please. We have to help it.”
Applejack looked to Rarity with a grave look on her face. “Sugarcube…I don’t think there’s anything we can do.”
“Yes there is,” said Twilight, steeling herself. Then, before the others could try to stop her, she stepped out from the reeds and into the clearing.
“Twilight!”
Twilight did not stop. She approached the windigo. It looked up at her with its luminescent white eyes, and Twilight saw fear in them. The creature whinnied in fear and tried to crawl forward to escape. It collapsed, though, unable to move.
“Easy!” said Twilight, wishing that she had paid more attention to Fluttershy’s endless yammering about how to treat frightened or sick animals. “I’m not going to hurt you! I’m trying to help!”
The windigo looked up at her, and in its eyes, Twilight saw that it was indeed not an animal. Although it could not speak, it had understood her perfectly. It lay down, shaking.
Twilight continued to approach, but she felt herself slowing. The air had been cold before, but now it was icy. The pain of her past was growing deeper and stronger. Every step Twilight took drove her deeper into her sorrow and regrets. The list of them was long, and so was their weight.
“Twilight,” said a voice behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see Rarity approaching as well. Behind her were the others. Not one of them hid- -not even Fluttershy- -and all of them had emerged from the brush to help.
Silken moved forward the most quickly, because she could move freely. The windigo had no effect on her; she was both a machine, and had already died long ago with no regrets. The windigo, likewise, did not seem to register her presence. It was either blind to her presence or far weaker than Twilight had thought.
“Silken,” said Twilight. “Can you do anything?”
Silken reached down and touched the windigo. Her hoof went through it, trailing ectoplasm as it did. “No,” she said, looking up. “This creature has no physical body. It is a living spell. It can only be healed with magic.”
“Of course it can,” muttered Twilight. She turned to Rarity. “Are you up for it?”
“This was my idea,” said Rarity, clearly showing some level of regret. “And I’m going to stand by it! I don’t know what I can do, but I promise I will give my all!”
Twilight nodded and the pair of them got close enough to touch the windigo. It was smaller than either of them had expected; whereas Twilight had always perceived windigoes to be much larger than ponies, this one was slightly smaller. That either meant that Twilight had misinterpreted their proportions or, more likely- -and more distressingly- -this was a foal.
The patches of contamination on its body seemed to be growing. The creature’s shimmering silver surface was fading in luster, and its sorrowful cries were getting weaker.
“Oh my,” whispered Rarity. Her blue eyes turned to Twilight. “It’s so beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Not for much longer,” said Twilight. “Unless this works.” She lit her horn, and started the basics of a spell. There was no reference for what she was doing; this was purely uncharted territory. No pony in the history of ponies had attempted to help a windigo, and all those who had tried to exterminate them had inevitably failed. There was nothing to go on, meaning that Twilight was forced to improvise in real time using her knowledge and skills to determine the nature of every spell required and to execute them exactly. In any other circumstance, this would have been profoundly exciting and alluring to her. Here and now, though, it only made her afraid.
“Alright,” she said. “Rarity, feed your magic into mine. Follow my lead”
Rarity nodded and ignited her horn. It glowed with bright blue magic that slowly swirled downward into Twilight’s magic.
Twilight began to focus, so much so that she barely registered the deep, mechanical bellowing coming from the trees around them. It was at the edge of her consciousness, but she still recognized it. She swore unspeakable curses concerning various parts of Celestia’s anatomy under her breath.
“You all heard that,” she said.
“Yeah,” said Applejack, looking somewhat pale. “They’re still a ways off, though, I don’t think- -”
“They can sense the injured windigo. And they’re coming. They’re on their way, fast.”
“I will do what I can,” said Silken, standing up. “But so far, I have proven inefficient at fighting them.”
“I haven’t,” said Rainbow Dash.
“Do you have a wooden handle?” asked Pinkie Pie.
“What?” asked Rainbow Dash. “Pinkie, why would I have a handle?”
“Because they mopped the floor with you last time,” she said, darkly.
“Well, yeah, but that was a fluke! They got the drop on me!” Rainbow Dash punched one of her hooves against the other. It was meant to be a threating gesture, but it came off as looking like she was clapping. “So now I’ve got a score to settle.”
“Fluttershy,” said Applejack. “You wouldn’t happen to have any animals that can help us?”
“They’re not weapons!” said Fluttershy indignantly. “And no. They can’t get near the windigo, except for the cockroaches. And they’re just too adorable to put in any danger.”
“We’re all to adorable to be put in danger,” said Pinkie Pie. “Frankly, this is getting ridiculous.”
Almost as soon as she had pointed out the obvious, the tall reeds around them began to rustle. The ponies looked around in panic, forming a circle around Twilight and Rarity.
“Twilight,” said Applejack. “Um…I don’t mean to be demanding or anything, but we sure could use some of that alicorn magic right now…”
“I can’t stop now,” said Twilight. “I need more time. Hold them off.”
Eyes became visible through the grass. They were blue, the same color as Pinkie’s- -and there were a lot of them. There was definitely more than one of the machine-creatures. Twilight heard a low, heavily distorted sound that rose rapidly in pitch. She shivered, realizing that it was a version of pre-recorded giggling.
“And how are we supposed to ‘hold them off’?” asked Applejack, annoyed. “We’re just ponies.”
“And they’re giant monsters,” said Fluttershy, clearly not wanting to even think about fighting them.
“They’re not monsters,” said Twilight. “They’re failed versions of you, of all of us.”
“Of us?! What are you talking about- -”
“Starlight spend her life trying to create you. But not all of them worked. She couldn’t bear to end the failures, so she created these.”
“Ah,” said Pinkie Pie. “You know, I never took her for the ‘mad scientist’ type. I figured you would end up doing that whole ‘insane doctor’ thing.”
“That was a phase,” protested Twilight. An idea suddenly occurred to her. “Pinkie!”
“Yes. I am.”
“So are they! Pinkie, these are different versions of you! Try talking to them!”
“Talk to them,” said Pinkie, calmly, as a tentacle reached out for her legs and as at least twelve of the creatures stepped silently through the reeds, their numerous eyes scanning both the sky and locking on the various ponies. They were moving slow and carefully, but they had finally ascertained that there was no present threat to their goal. “Twilight, I’ve heard a lot of stupid ideas in my time. Half of them came out of my mouth. The other half came out of Rainbow Dash.”
“Hey!”
“But that has to be the WORST ever.”
“I don’t know, just do something! Try telling them jokes!”
“Jokes,” sighed Pinkie Pie. “Really? It’s not a switch. I’m not just a sack of joke meat you can just put on a humor rotisserie. And you had better use the rotisserie, if you don’t all the juices seep out and my humor gets really dry.”
The creatures stopped, and turned their blue eyes to Pinkie Pie. The compressors in their bodies hissed as their robotic limbs slowed. They watched, interested in something other than the windigo.
More tentacles reached out toward Pinkie Pie.
“Oop,” said Pinkie Pie, stepping away. “Yeah, I know where that is going. You know this story is supposed to have a teen rating, right? We can’t do that kind of thing here.”
The creatures did not laugh. Instead, two of them turned their attention toward Twilight and Rarity. They approached, but slowly. No doubt they were mindless and without the capacity for any semblance of thought, but that did not mean they could not feel. The effect of the windigo, Twilight realized, might have been an involuntary defensive mechanism.
It did not stop the creatures for long, though. Heavy hydraulic systems pressed forward, and thin pale gray tentacles reached outward. Twilight felt one touch her shoulder and slide up her neck as it petted her hair. It was cold, and did not feel like flesh at all.
The same was happening to Rarity, and she seemed to be frozen and on the verge of weeping as it touched her mane. She was gasping and letting out a horrid high moan.
“Focus!” said Twilight. “Rarity, please! I can’t do this without you!”
“But…m…mm…my mane! It’s tt…t…touching me!”
“Pinkie!” shouted Twilight, not taking her eyes off the windigo. “Do something!”
“What am I supposed to do?!” By this time, Pinkie had been lifted entirly off the ground by the creature, and it was examining her with an array of glaring eyes interspaced over a system built from scavenged and strangely manufactured optics.
“Make them laugh!”
“That doesn’t answer the question!” Pinkie Pie turned to the eyes, and then watched as the whole assembly split open into a vast mechanical mouth overgrown with vicious bone teeth and metal spikes.
Pinkie Pie stared into the gaping maw, and then calmly looked over her shoulder at Twilight. “Welp, I’m toast. I hope this thing likes chocolate. Because I just made a LOT of fudge.”
“I can’t help you right now!” cried Twilight, exasperated. “I am literally reconstructing a living ectoplasmic spell from a subunit level upward while trying to dissipate a geometrically propagating asymmetrical decay. This isn’t easy!”
“Come on, Pinkie!” called Rainbow Dash. “You can do it!”
“Hopefully,” said Fluttershy, who was covering her eyes. “Please don’t get eaten.”
“And don’t make any more fudge,” added Applejack, looking a bit disgusted.
The creature suddenly stopped. Its eyes turned to Applejack. The fact that she was being upstaged for the attention she so deperatly and constantly craved snapped Pinkie out of her stupor. “Okay,” she said, taking a big breath. “Okay…hey! Big shoggoth thing!” It looked at her. “I just flew in from Cloudsdale, and boy are my arms tired!”
This was met with loud and exasperated groans from all the ponies present. Only Silken laughed. One of the creatures on the far side of Twilight and Rarity let out a long, low sound.
“Did you just boo me?” cried Pinkie Pie, turning around sharply on the tentacles that held her. “You haven’t even evolved to sentience yet! You can’t boo me!”
The creatures growled. Their features suddenly sharpened, and Twilight felt the tentacles wrapping around her, hard. Her friends retreated to the relative safety around the windigo, but even that did not protect them. The creatures closed in, looking like a wall of rusted machinery and silently laughing eyes.
“Pinkie!”
“Okay, okay! How about- -um- -oh! I know! Do you know why Rainbow Dash’s house doesn’t have any carpet?”
Rainbow Dash turned as red as a beet. “PINKIE!” she cried, her voice going several octaves higher than any of those around her thought was even possible. “You swore you would NEVER tell that joke again!”
“Well I don’t have a lot of material, and I’m kind of freaking out right now! I feel like Fluttershy does when she sees a potato!”
“Oh,” mumbled Fluttershy. “So many eyes…”
“Try physical comedy!” said Applejack. “That always gets me hootin’ and hollerin’!”
“How am I supposed to do that from up here?!”
Silken looked down at Fluttershy, and then pointed. “Would it help if I slapped her?”
Fluttershy suddenly jumped up with a squeak, her eyes wide. “Wh- -what? Why would you say that?”
“Is that not comedy? I have heard that it stems from suffering.” Her wide eyes narrowed into tiny dots, and she lifted one of her hard, plated hooves. “I promise it will only hurt enough to be funny.”
“Please, no,” begged Fluttershy.
“She’s right,” said Pinkie. “I mean, that’s how slapstick works. And you’re the stick.”
“Huuhuuu…I don’t want to be a tree anymore!”
“Well,” said Pinkie Pie, considering, “I suppose we could just stroke her gently. I mean, Rainbow Dash already does that.”
Rainbow Dash became beetlike again. “I did not do that!”
“Rainbow,” said Fluttershy, looking dejected.
“Well…yes, one time, but she was afraid! I couldn’t just leave her like that!”
“She’s always afraid,” said Applejack.
“I’m not always afraid!” protested Fluttershy. “Not when I have something cute and soft to hug and squeeze…”
“Like Rainbow Dash,” said Pinkie.
The monstrosities that had now completely encircled the group had begun to make sounds. It was not laughter, but rather seemed to be discussion. They were releasing low-frequency warbles with occasional trilling that was filled with significant static distortion. Whatever organic part of them remained silent.
“What are they saying?” asked Applejack, turning to Twilight.
“How should I know?” said Twilight, annoyed. Sweat was running down her face, but the spell was starting to work. She had found the correct combination of spells to remove the heavy contamination, and to begin ectoplasmic regeneration. It took a vast amount of power, though, and Twilight was not sure how long she could maintain the concentration necessary to perform the incredibly complex ad-hoc spell. “It’s probably just mindless screaming.”
“Well, I’m about to be screaming mindlessly!” cried Pinkie Pie. “They’re gonna take my brain!”
“I don’t think they will,” said Fluttershy, softly. “Because that would give them diabetes.”
All of the ponies and even the pseudo-Pinkie Pie abominations turned to Fluttershy. She shrank. “I was just…trying to…nevermind…”
“Fluttershy! Stop trying to do my job! Besides, you’re the only one here who gives ponies diabetes! Quick, hug Rainbow Dash or something! If we’re lucky their high blood-sugar will give them ketoacidosis! That’s a real pain, you know, I’ve had it, like, eighteen times!” She paused, and then produced a large and thoroughly frosted cupcake.
“Pinkie,” said Applejack, looking somewhat repulsed, “where did you just get that?”
“I made it, silly!” laughed Pinkie, nervously. She turned to the creature holding her. “Do you want it? It’s fudge flavor! Extra fresh!”
All of the creature’s eyes focused on the confection. In fact, all the eyes of all the creatures focused on the cupcake. Thin projections slipped out from between the rusty joints of their armor and expanded into feathery organs that began to wave rhythmically. They could smell it.
Pinkie Pie extended the cupcake with a shaking hoof toward the vast mouth. As it approached, all of the creature’s eyes suddenly closed and receded into its body, revealing the heavy metal beneath. The mouth suddenly snapped open like a mechanical trap. Instead of attempting to bite the cupcake, though, tendrils of flesh emerged and began to reach for one another, winding and twisting. As they merged, they began to form a shape.
Within seconds, they had assembled something that looked like a badly sculpted parody of a pony head. Not just any head, though: it was Pinkie Pie’s. The face was longer, and crooked; the jaw was slack. What hair the creature had tried to make was pale and sparse. There were no eyes.
The face looked up at Pinkie Pie, and then giggled. It did not sound like a pony giggle at all. Then it leaned forward, its jaw extending suddenly to a size far larger than any pony would have. It quickly snapped up the cupcake, pulling it gently back into the creature’s body held in a set of long, transparent fangs.
Pinkie Pie stared at this in silence. “Huh,” she said as the artificial head looked back at her. “It’s like looking in a mirror, isn’t it? Except an ugly mirror. Like that one I gave Rarity for a prank.”
“Wait!” cried Rarity, turning so sharply that the change in her magic nearly caused Twilight to pass out. “That was you?!”
“No,” said Pinkie Pie, her face scrunching. “It was Rainbow Dash.”
“Huh?” said Rainbow Dash. “I just heard my name. I wasn’t listening to the rest. I was looking at that thing. It’s just…you know, I can’t look away. It’s just so…I don’t even know. Like Granny Smith in a stiff wind.” Applejack shuddered. Rainbow Dash turned to Fluttershy. “Hey, Flutters, it’s neat to see you’re still standing, though.”
“I’m too scared…to faint,” gasped Fluttershy.
Silken reached out and poked Fluttershy’s side. Fluttershy was so stiff from terror that she just fell over. One of the creatures made a sound that was something like a laugh.
“What do you know,” said Silken. “It IS funny!”
Pinkie Pie stared at the face looking back at her, and then looked over her shoulder at Twilight. “Hey, Twilight.”
“Hay is for horses, Pinkie.”
“Yeah, I know. Hey, Twilight. Are you almost done?”
“Don’t rush me. You have no idea how hard this is.”
“Oh,” said Pinkie Pie. She paused for a long time. “Well, if you say so, but if you don’t mind me making a teensie, tiny, itty-bitty request, could you pretty please HURRY THE BUCK UP OH CELESTIA’S GOLDEN RUMP IT’S LOOKING AT ME TWILIGHT TWILIGHT TWILIGHT I’M FREAKING OUT DON’T LET IT EAT ME I’M TOO YOUONG TO BE EATEN EVEN THOUGH I BET I TASTE SUPER-GOOD OH LUNA’S DYSPLASTIC GERMAN-SHEPARD HIPS HURRY UP IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS CINNAMON!”
In her screaming, Pinkie Pie expended too much air and promptly passed out. The creature shook her for a moment, and then dropped her.
This group of creatures was patient. They were not driven by insane, mindless rage like the others. They had waited, calculating, observing. Now, having seen enough, they advanced forward.
She suddenly collapsed, and Twilight shuddered as she took on the full burden of the spell. Rarity had given everything she could, and although it had been more than Twilight had asked she had still fainted at the worst possible time.
“Silken!”
“I will do what I can,” said Silken, stepping forward to the nearest creature. The creature stopped to meet her. It’s surface shifted, opening various plates to reveal stained ceramic eyes with tiny blue pupils. A set of limbs then reached forward. Although they had been crudely constructed, it was clear that the robotics they contained were not hydraulic or pneumatic like the limbs that the creatures so often used. They were robotic, but a kind that Silken found both highly surprising and highly familiar.
“Goddess,” she said. “When the violet one passed over me in the castle, do you think it might have scanned me?”
“Even if it did,” grunted Twilight. “There’s nothing it could do with the information. There’s no way they could replicate it.”
“Oh,” said Silken. “Well, that’s good to know.”
With one swift motion, the creature struck at her. Silken took a step back, but barely managed to avoid the robotic appendage. With the force of it, she calculated that even at full mass she would sustain substantial damage if it struck her optics or a limb. Her body, though effective at the most crude and basic fighting, was not designed for combat.
“You’re not going to get me again,” said Rainbow Dash. She backed up as well until her rump was nearly against Twilight’s back, dragging Fluttershy by her tail the whole time. “Round two, eh? You’re not going to be so lucky!”
“Twilight,” said Applejack, who was also backing up but eying Pinkie, who was lying unperturbed by the creatures. “Dash is right- -sort of- -but to be honest here, we’ve got about as much chance of an inchworm eating a yard-long bean.”
“I’m almost done, I’m almost done! Don’t rush me!”
“It is too late anyway,” said Silken, shrugging. “We are already surrounded. Even if Twilight finished before you all end up, well…like me, you would not be able to get away.”
“Not helping,” said Applejack. “Not helping at all.”
“Rainbow,” said Twilight, “you can fly.”
“Don’t even say it!” snapped Rainbow Dash. “There’s no way I’m leaving! Even if that means getting ground into a paste!”
“I don’t want to be a paste!” wept Fluttershy.
“Twilight, can’t you teleport us?” asked Applejack.
“No. Even if I had enough power left, what it does to things with an organic brain…well…”
The creatures suddenly stopped. They stood in silence, as if waiting for some unheard signal. Then they leapt forward.
Twilight took a deep breath and summoned what magical energy she had. As her friends cried out in surprise, a violet bubble formed around them. The creatures struck it, but were immediately repelled. They did not depart, though, and began to attack the spell.
Silken had already known what Twilight would attempt to do, and she reacted accordingly. She was quick enough to jump forward, rolling across the ground as the shield fell around the others, leaving her on the outside.
She did not hesitate. Instead, she moved forward quickly, dodging past the creature’s various legs and exhaust ports. They did not seem to know how to react; despite Silken’s ungainly appearance, she was as fast as any remnus.
She reached her target in seconds. Pinkie Pie had been lying exactly where the creature had left her, and still remained completely unperturbed. In one swift movement, Silken picked her up and tossed her backward. Twilight’s shield spell, as she had expected, was permeable to her friends. Pinkie Pie passed through easily, landing on Fluttershy with a loud thump.
This immediately sent the creatures into a frenzy. They reacted strongly to the removal of the bringer of fudge cupcakes, and in their panic began tearing at Twilight’s dome, trying to reach the ponies beneath.
“Silken, get under the dome!” cried Applejack.
Silken just smiled, as was customary for her. That was not her intention, although she wondered if she truly would be allowed to get through at all.
Instead, she turned her attention toward the largest of the creatures. It would be impossible for Silken to fight them all, but she had resigned herself to doing as much as she could.
She charged the creature. Their bodies struck, but the impact was not like when Silken and Corona Fade had fought. Instead of an explosion of force, Silken seemed to just sink. The armor was hard and impenetrable, but whatever was beneath it gave way as though it were rotted.
Then she saw a flash of robotics. The appendages that she had seen before on the creature’s body were like hers, but they were crude parodies, built from scavenged materials and improperly conceived schematics. They were strong, but inefficient. Yet, still, Silken felt a shock to her body. She looked down to see the golden structum tips of the limbs emerging from her body where the creature had repeatedly impaled her.
“Silken!” cried Fluttershy.
Silken looked over her shoulder. “It is fine,” she said, calmly. “I have neither the capacity to feel pain nor vital organs.” Save for one, she thought. “I will hold this one as long as I can.”
That was not of much consequence, and Silken knew that. Despite this, she grabbed onto the creature. She had been impaled three times, and with her body shifted in such a way as to lock the creature in place. The arms were linked to the creature’s core, and no doubt to the skeleton that bore it, whether that was of perverse and distorted bone or a framework of iron. Silken could not fight the creature, exactly, but she could slow it down. So, she reversed her mass centrifuge. Her body quickly gained wait, rising to her default sixteen tons- -and continuing to rise.
Not fifteen feet away, the shield spell was beginning to crack. The creatures were tearing at it, and although they could not use magic they were still incredibly strong. A few even had components made of structum, and every hit with a substance of such metaphysical weight was like a punch to Twilight’s spleen.
Sweat was running down her forehead. The strain on her horn was now almost too much to bear, and she could see no way out.
“Silken!” she cried, her voice wavering and causing her vision to darken. She immediately stopped yelling; if she tried to talk again, she would lose concentration and likely pass out.
“My mass is currently seventy six tons!” said Silken, who had partially sunk into the rocky ground below her, and who was struggling against the largest of the creatures, keeping it out of tentacle-reach of the dome. “I cannot move!”
Twilight’s breath hitched. The world grew blurry, but she focused. Her friends were around her. Rarity was lying at her side, breathing but unconscious. She looked small, with her mane disheveled in a way that she would never allow if she were awake. Pinkie, likewise, was asleep, but she was smiling, apparently having pleasant dreams. Fluttershy was cowering behind Applejack, who looked about ready to fight even if she could not manage to hide the expression of hopelessness on her face. At the top of the dome, Rainbow Dash was circling anxiously like a panicked bird, eyeing the creatures as though she wanted to attack them but could not find a way to do so.
The spell that Twilight was using to heal the windigo was also failing. She had been keeping it unconscious, but now it stirred. This only caused the creeping depression that surrounded it to worsen, and it began to struggle. Its body had been repaired, and it was no longer dying, but it was still injured.
Despite Twilight’s best efforts, the windigo sat up. It did not attack her, but it turned its head upward and let out a high, intermittent cry. The sound was bonechilling and strange.
The attacking creatures did not seem to notice. They had become fixated on the growing cracks in the shield spell. One had even started reaching its tentacles inside. Rainbow Dash was in the process of fighting them, although as a pony the best she could do was bite them.
Then, suddenly, they all stopped. The hair-like appendages on one of them seemed to go wild, shifting and twitching in every direction. Almost instantly, the creature tore itself apart from within, spontaneously dividing itself just in time to avoid a blast of blue magic.
The magic struck the ground, and immediately it burst open into a plume of vicious-looking ice spikes that propagated exponentially. The two halves of the creature, rather than come together, went their separate ways and became two smaller versions of their single parent.
Twilight felt the cold before she saw heard the sound from high above. It came out through the trees as if from everywhere at once, driving the world into silence. It was a single long wail. The injured windigo’s ears pricked and its luminescent eyes stared upward. It began to call more frantically.
Then they descended as a sudden swarm. Amidst the atmospheric phenomena, Twilight saw the outlines of windigoes. Some of them were the taller ones whose bodies bore complicated makes, and they attacked with ice and force that Twilight could not possibly mistake for anything except magic.
They fell form overhead, striking at the creatures. The failed clones reacted with confusion. Despite having an uncanny ability to guess where the windigoes were going to attack, they were being driven back. Spells of frost, lightning, and wind struck out at them, pushing their rusted and heterogeneous armor to- -and past- -its limit.
The creatures retreated, but they did not go far. They initially scrambled rapidly across the rough terrain- -they could not fly- -but then suddenly stopped and regrouped instantly. Twilight for a moment just assumed that they were naturally capricious, just like the pony they were derived from. That was until she felt the ground rumble.
Part of it nearby collapsed, causing one of the nearby trees to tilt suddenly. Material crumbled into the pit below, and mechanical limbs forced their way through. They were massive; just one leg of the emerging creatures was the same size as the ones that had retreated to provide them support. When the reinforcements finally did emerge, they were vast and tank-like, coated entirely in armor save for a number of tiny green eyes arranged in a small circle near their apex.
Their bodies bristled with what to Twilight tangentially resembled turrets. She could not be sure on that conclusion, as there was no way to identify what the combination of electronics, mechanical parts, and gray flesh truly were.
At this sight, the windigoes descended. They did not attack, but rather positioned themselves across from the advancing force of shoggoths, their hooves touching the snowy ground but leaving no tracks. They stood ready for attack, and one of those among them who bore the complex marks of a wizard stepped forward. She raised her hoof, and a circle of frosty air appeared before her, displaying a shifting combination of symbols. Symbols that, Twilight realized, were derivatives of those she had found scrawled on the extra page of the friendship journal in Starlight’s facility.
“Well bread me and call me a fritter,” swore Applejack under her breath. “Those are real windigoes. Real, live, windigoes.”
“Yeah,” said Rainbow Dash, her voice wavering almost imperceptibly. “This just got interesting, didn’t it?
“It’s a good thing we have this shield,” said Fluttershy. “At least we’re safe as long as- -”
Twilight dropped the shield.
“Twilight!” cried Applejack as the purple dome collapsed to her feet and dissipated. “What did you- -”
The injured windigo filly peeped loudly and struggled to stand. Twilight helped it up, and it moved through the air, its legs shaky but swift, as it returned to its family. The other windigoes saw it, and they saw the scars that the contamination had left on it. They looked at Twilight, and their symbols changed, questioning.
“I did what I could,” said Twilight, addressing them.
They stared at her for a long moment with luminescent eyes. They were not the only ones, though; from the other side, blue and green eyes watched with anticipation. Those eyes were different, and Twilight saw that now. The eyes of the windigoes were alive with thought and understanding. The eyes of the shoggoths were empty and blank, their species having evolved past the need for conscious thought millennia ago. Yet, despite this difference, both types of eyes watched her, waiting.
The windigoes slowly turned their attention to the creatures standing across from them. As they did, the air around them distorted. Something like a blowing wind materialized from the silence around them, a mass of swirling blue light that stepped forward on abstract legs. It stood far taller than the rest of them, but they moved aside from it, as if they understood its will. Perhaps they did.
There was a sudden crack from the other side. Four teleportation spells had ignited, spraying forth burning plasma from an improperly formed spell. None of the creatures had left, though. Rather, four had arrived: creatures far smaller than the others, that walked like ponies but bore faces carved from metal. They were four of the eighteen queens that Starlight had created. Twilight looked at them and shivered, knowing that she was the reason they were what they were. Starlight had attempted to resurrect her, not realizing that Twilight was still alive. Unlike the others, the queens had no hope of succeeding. Since their inception, they had been doomed to this fate.
One of them had a familiar mask, and Twilight saw its many knowing violet eyes turn to her. They were her eyes, perverted and changed by uncontrolled evolution. Behind this creature and its comrades, more arrived silently: ones that bore perfect white paint instead of rust, and others that arrived from the sky, clinging to high trees and watching with blue or violet eyes.
Both sides stared at each other, and Twilight could feel the tension rise when she realized that neither group was going to back down. They were waiting, but only because she was between them- -and even then, they were both preparing for attack.
The blue windigo looked up at them, and started to take a step forward. The queens saw this, and growled low. Twilight saw their bodies preparing to open for a magical attack.
“Wait!” cried Twilight. “Stop!”
Miraculously, they all did. Once again all eyes- -including those of Twilight’s friends- -turned to her.
Silently, Twilight stepped toward the blue windigo. It shifted, as if she were about to attack it, but Twilight raised no spells against it, not even to protect herself. She knew that she did not have to.
“When I first saw you,” she said, “I guess I already knew it. On some level, even if I didn’t remember. If I didn’t want to remember.” She looked up into it, and its one eye , constantly forming and re-forming, looked down at her. “There wasn’t enough left of you. You lived too long, tried to do too much. You don’t remember what you were. And for the longest time, I tried to forget too.” She paused, not taking her eyes off of the swirling mass of disembodied magic. “But I do remember. I remember who you used to be.”
Twilight raised her horn. The blue windigo did not step back, but rather just closed its eye. Pink-violet magic surrounded it as Twilight performed a spell not terribly unlike that of the one she had just used on the windigo, although modified in that she knit it with her own memory. The magic that she felt against hers was familiar, and Twilight smiled. It was a magic she had never expected to feel again, and she was glad that after half a million years she was still able to recall who it had belonged to.
The blue windigo began to collapse. The various pieces of its spell ceased to swirl and pulse as they were brought together, the shattered elements being reassembled and the extraneous pieces that had been created across the centuries being discarded.
All eyes watched as the blue windigo was reduced in size and consolidated in shape until, finally, the spell was complete. Before Twilight stood the ghostly image of a pony. Her body was translucent, like that of a wingigo, and her eyes glowed with internal light. Her eyes were different from those of the others, though. They were conscious, but they were not alive.
“Twilight,” said Applejack. “Is that…”
“Starlight,” said Twilight. She smiled, and so did what remained of Starlight Glimmer.
“Crea…TOR,” groaned one of the queen shoggoths in surprise. The others looked to it, and then back at Starlight. They had no minds of their own, and yet they remembered the one who had stood outside the tanks of their ancestors, looking upon them with hope even after so many failures. The queens no doubt did.
“You shouldn’t have used this spell,” said Twilight, unable to suppress her tears. “You could have rested. After all that time, you deserved it. To sleep.”
“Twilight,” said Applejack. “How can she be here?”
“She can’t be,” said Fluttershy. “It’s been too long…”
“It is her,” said Twilight. “Or part of her. What was left. Sombra’s Bane. The greatest curse known to ponykind.”
Starlight looked at Twilight, and her smile faded slightly. Most likely, she could not speak. She could think, though. Despite her ghostly form, Twilight saw that she still had a pale cutie mark on her flank. The same one the Map had called before, when Twilight and her friends had been in danger.
“You didn’t stop, though,” said Twilight. “That’s why you did it. Because you couldn’t leave the world like that. The windigoes. They’re sentient, aren’t they?”
Starlight nodded, and smiled. She turned her head toward the windigoes, and they nodded back to her.
“You taught them what you could, helped them evolve. Your body is pure magic now, but so are theirs. Building a civilization in the clouds out of spells and clouds instead of flesh and steel.” Twilight turned over her shoulder, and then reversed course, walking toward the army of silent and still creatures that stood across from the windigoes.
“Twilight!” gasped Applejack. “Don’t!”
“They won’t hurt us,” said Twilight, looking into the many eyes of the failed copies of herself. The more she looked, the more she began to realize that they were not quite the failures that she or Starlight had initially thought.
“My own road apples!” cried Applejack. “Twilight, ever since we got here, they’ve been trying to mash us into apple butter!”
“I’ve got to agree with AJ on that one,” said Rainbow Dash.
“Then I suppose I am the dissenter,” said Silken. She had regenerated enough to stand up, although her body was still marred by a set of vast holes that revealed the machinery beneath her surface. Her wide blue eyes turned toward Twilight. They looked so oddly similar to the way Starlight’s did. “They knew my schematic. They could have struck my central processor and rendered me permanently inert. But they did not. Look.” She pointed to herself. “They struck at my body, the part of me that I can heal.”
“Well tell that to my body!” cried Rainbow Dash. Her voice sounded as angry as it sounded afraid, and she was no longer able to control the fact that this situation was getting to her. “They messed me up! I thought I was going to…you know…”
“You would not have,” said Silken. “You would have progressed.”
“Progressed? What is that supposed to mean?”
Silken pointed up a tree, where one of several large winged shoggoths was clinging to the trunk by a combination of mechanical and organic legs. “You would have become like that.”
“They are you,” said Twilight. “The same kind of creature.” She looked up to the copies. “And they are violent. Dangerous, deadly, vicious. But I don’t know if they intend to be.”
“Twilight,” said Applejack, exasperated, “that doesn’t make any sense!”
“Like a foal trying to reach out and grab a fragile butterfly,” muttered Fluttershy quietly.
Twilight understood, or understood as well as she could. She addressed the masked creature before her directly. “You were built to protect Starlight’s facility. From creatures, monsters, windigoes. But you don’t need to anymore. There isn’t a reason to fight! The windigoes only live in the sky, and you live underground. You can coexist. You’re both Starlight’s children, after all.”
The creature looked down, and then spoke. Its voice was badly distorted. “Twil…IGHT…S…park..LE…not re…EAL not…real…”
Starlight drifted forward, a windigo mage at her side. They paused beside Twilight and looked at the shoggoth. It looked back, and Starlight smiled. The windigo traced out a pattern in the air. Twilight read it and smiled.
“What does it say?” asked Silken.
“She says it doesn’t matter anymore.”
Almost in an instant, the tension between the sides seemed to vanish. The windigoes still stood, but they were silent and watching impassively instead of preparing for attack. Their opponents, likewise, had not moved in the slightest, but somehow had made it clear that they had no intention of fighting. There was no longer a reason to. In fact, there never had been, but now they both understood that.
Twilight smiled, but something still weighed heavily on her mind.
“Starlight,” she said, “I was alive. This whole time. I’m sorry I left. You were here, the whole time, while I was away, if I had just…”
Starlight shook her head, and put a hoof around Twilight. Despite her ghostly appearance, she still had mass. There was no sensation of touching a familiar hoof, but there one was of touching familiar magic. Even after all this time, it still felt like a sincere gesture from an old friend. It took everything Twilight had to stop herself from bursting out into tears- -and even then she only managed to resist it for a few seconds
“Thank you for giving me my friends back,” she said through her tears. “I’d forgotten…and tried to forget…”
Starlight said nothing, but Twilight understood. They embraced for a few moments longer, and Twilight only then realized that she had wished for this moment for well over four hundred thousand years.
Twilight hesitantly pulled herself away and wiped her eyes. “I can take them back with me,” she said. “We…we thought this planet was dead. That it would never support life again. We were wrong- -no. I was wrong. We left it. But I have to go back. I can’t stay here.”
Starlight stared at her for a long moment, and then nodded solemnly. Of course she understood.
“But I have to finish something. I have to get to Princess Cadence’s tomb. I know where it is, from the Map, but it is too far. Can you help me?”
Light Gloom paced through the bridge, thinking. Its shape had been reconfigured once again, creating a long pointed room whose sides created a roughly triangular shape that was subtly scalene. One the widest side, though, several of his comrades stood around three individuals who were decidedly not allied with his cause: the ponies Heliotrope and Golden Star, as well as the remnus Journey End. None of them were bound- -such was not necessary in a civilized society- -but there was no doubt in anypony’s mind that they were indeed being held captive.
At length, Light Gloom stopped in front of them and sighed. Then he spoke calmly to them, making sure they understood him perfectly.
“In ancient times,” he stated, “do you what the punishment for your crimes would have been?”
“Go bite your own horn,” growled Heliotrope.
Light Gloom ignored her outburst, and the fact that what she had suggested was impossible, although not for the reason she likely thought. “Your horns would have been sawn off, and then your wings plucked feather by feather until you were completely nude. We would then dye you blue and solemnly march you through the streets of Dusk while the crowds bowed their head in silent shame at your humiliation.”
“Saw…off our horns?” said Golden Star, his voice wavering slightly. Heliotrope shot him an aggressive glance, but Light Gloom smiled, even if he was anything but happy.
Light Gloom approached Golden Star. The stallion was shorter than him, and looked so very pitiful. “Does that frighten you?” he tapped the tip of Golden Star’s horn, causing the stallion to look up at him in horror. “Do you think it would actually hurt? Don’t be a fool. The amount of horn marrow you have is trivial. There’s no innervation. None at all. You wouldn’t feel a thing.” Light Gloom tapped his tip repeatedly, using each tiny blow to punctuate his point. “You wouldn’t. Feel. A. Thing.”
“Please refrain from touching him without his permission,” said Journey End, calmly.
Light Gloom directed his attention to her. “And you. A remnus. I was going to have you refitted for the Cult. It is you who I am most ashamed of. We only have your best interests in mind.”
“My colors have not been changed yet. I doubt they will be. I neither agree with your politics nor your methods.”
Light Gloom stared at her for a moment, and then seemed to accept her decision. He stepped back. “I can hardly punish you anyway,” he said. “Nor the rest of you, not in the traditional way. The loss of your horns would be meaningless at this point in your evolution, but walking on Dusk’s surface would crush you. The gravity is one third of Equestria’s, and your legs would shatter with one step.” He paused again, considering. “Of course, I suppose you could just be pawns. It is your captain that I would like to punish. Of course, it is a bit too late for that.”
“What did you do to her?” demanded Heliotrope.
“I did nothing,” said Light Gloom. “She destroyed herself to commit heresy. She is aboard my ship right now. As furious as I am with her, I am not ungenerous. And I have actually developed some respect for her. As such, I have elected to give her one of our best bodies.” He looked in the direction of the N689. “Why, she’s probably being transplanted as we speak.”
“And Inky Nebula?” asked Golden Star.
Light Gloom did not answer. He watched as Heliotrope’s defiance suddenly faltered, and as Golden Star’s eyes grew wide.
“N…no,” said the captive stallion, “She didn’t- -she can’t- -”
“Golden,” said Heliotrope. That was all she could say; she did not know what else to.
“Her role was indeed heroic,” said Light Gloom. “No doubt songs would be sung of her, if ponies could still sing. And if I was not going to personally see that any record of her is erased from history. Not that history has much time left in it these days.”
“Wh…why?” said Golden Star. He was crying. For a modern alicorn, doing so was rare indeed. “What did she do to you?”
“To me? Nothing. I don’t terribly care what happens to me. I’m not in this for personal glory or profit. I am here to serve Twilight Sparkle. That is my only desire. And your friend- -and you, actually- -stood in the way of her Will.”
“You tried to vaporize the Motherworld!” cried Heliotrope, struggling forward but then crying out as the technomagic surrounded her forced her back. “With Twilight still on it! You’re INSANE!”
“Ponies seem to say that quite often,” said Light Gloom. “I cannot fathom why. I am not being unreasonable.” He looked over his shoulder at one of the other cultists. “Luminescence? Have I been unreasonable at any point?”
“My independent analysis of your logic has shown that it is sound,” said Luminescence. “Although Phosphorescence disagrees.”
Light Gloom turned to the other identical cultist. “You disagree with my logical progression?”
“Indeed,” said Phosphorescence. “Your actions are tinged with sentimentality. If we had jettisoned the captives initially, this would not have been a problem. I also disagree with keeping them here now. Only the remnus is valuable to us. The others are evolutionary failures.”
“Noted,” said Light Gloom. “But do not confuse civility for sentimentality. We act for the good of the Empire, not for ourselves. And, in addition, these ponies may yet come to our side. In time.”
“We would never,” spat Heliotrope.
“Only because your perception is limited,” said Light Gloom. “But at this point it has to be. When the mission is complete , this will all make sense.”
“Unfortunately,” said Journey End, a thin smile crossing her face, “your weapon can only fire once. My assessment has indicated that your vessel no longer has power. Neither does ours.”
Heliotrope sneered. “I suppose that plan of yours isn’t ever going to come to fruition at all, is it?”
Light Gloom paused. “No. It will.”
In an instant, he shifted the morphiplasm of the ship. The triangular room tore open on one end, revealing a direct view of the planet below. The atmosphere instantly dissipated, leaving the room in a complete and airless vacuum.
This, of course, gave Light Gloom a chance to witness a perfect representation of the infuriating paradox of pony evolution. Golden Star and Heliotrope were unprotected, exposed directly to the air. When the air had departed, they had both been subject to explosive decompression. Now they stood on the floor, directly exposed to the frigid void of space. These ponies were unable to use magic or to fly, but also to do the most basic tasks. They could not run, or walk across a planet with any sort of gravity. If their food was not sterilized before being eaten, they would become horribly ill. Had the ship been facing the sun, the intense light would have badly burned their eyes and skin.
Yet, here they stood, alive and well as products of generations upon generations of spacefaring ponies. Explosive decompression was nearly harmless to them. As if by instinct, they had exhaled, venting the one lung that each of them possessed; at the same time, their large eyes had snapped shut. They could have survived like this for the better part of a quarter hour and receive no injury whatsoever. As infuriating as this paradox was, Light Gloom could at least take comfort in the fact that while not in pain the captives were extremely uncomfortable.
Light Gloom turned away from them, disconnecting himself from the ship’s systems as he did.
“Luminescence, Phosphorescence,” he said, addressing the pair of twins through the internal communication system that they all shared rather than by speaking. “I will leave you to direct the vessel here. My only request is that you keep the prisoners close this time.”
“And you?” asked Luminescence.
Light Gloom released the gravity field that his suit produced and floated out of the ship, joining the assembled fleet of Cultists, their shuttles, and the heavy mechs that they were preparing to deploy. As he did, a pair of dark metal wings extended from beneath his cloak, a pair identical to those worn by the comrades that surrounded him.
“I will lead the recovery on the planet directly.” �L?g�6
The storm rushed around them, a vortex of wind and energy that roared through the magical atmosphere. Twilight could see nothing past the tint of her shield sphere, save for the occasional glimpse of narrow hooves or glowing eyes. Despite its power, the force on the outside of the spell was not so great as to provide Twilight any sort of difficulty in holding the sphere intact.
Then she felt herself strike ground. The sphere bounced once, and then came to a rest. As soon as it did, the storm seemed to dissipate. The windigoes departed from them, returning upward to the atmosphere where they resided in the eternal storms, feeding on magical fallout. Doing so was not without risk, though; although the initial blast had long since faded, the weather in this area was remarkably fair as a result of Light Gloom’s attempt to clear it. Warm sunlight came through some of the clouds, and the windigoes shrank from it.
Despite the risk, they had born Twilight and her friends as close as they could to their destination. Twilight lowered the bubble, and Silken was set down beside them, her infinitesimally light body having been easily born through the wind without damage. Twilight looked up to the windigoes, and saw several of their mages standing amongst Starlight, and a small filly. Twilight waved to them. Starlight smiled silently, and waved back before returning to the sky.
“Bye, Starlight’s ghost!” cried Pinkie, waving frantically up at the sky. “Have fun in the stratosphere! If you need any help decorating, Rainbow Dash knows a lot about skylights! Just don’t ask her for advice on carpeting!”
Rainbow Dash grumbled and walked up next to Twilight. “You know, I could have flown that on my own.”
“You had no idea where we were going.”
“Uh, yeah I did. It’s the crystal Empire. I know how to get there.”
“You used to. Mages in the late seven thousands had a propensity to like experimenting with tectonic magic.”
“‘Propenisty’? What did you just call me?”
There was a groan from behind Twilight, and a sudden retching.
“Applejack?” said Twilight, concerned and trotting to her friend’s side. “Are you okay?”
“Ugh,” said Applejack, wiping her mouth. She looked pale, and even green. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine,” said Pinkie Pie. “You look like Rarity looked when she found that secret birthday cake I made for her. You know, the one she found four birthdays too late.”
“Pinkie!” cried Applejack, holding her mouth. “Gosh darn it, can’t you go back to being unconscious?!” She swallowed, even though it made her only look slightly relieved. “It’s just the airsickness. Earth ponies just weren’t meant to fly like that.” She shook her head. “I got this brand new body, and I STILL get airsick…it just isn’t fair…”
Applejack suddenly retched again, and Twilight let her go about her business. She instead approached Rarity, who looked more tired than sick. “Rarity? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, darling. Just a little under the weather.”
“You did just expend a lot of magic.”
Rarity sighed. “I just wish I could have done more. Can you imagine! Me, passing out like that, fainting straight away as soon as things got stressful?”
“No, I can’t,” said Applejack before retching again.
Silken looked at her. “I cannot tell if that was sarcasm.”
“Are you not allowed to use contractions, or is it a personal preference?” asked Pinkie.
“I don’t just faint randomly,” protested Rarity. “Why, the very thought of fainting without a proper fainting chaise! Such a thing is simply uncivilized!” She cleared her throat. “It’s just so embarrassing! Hopefully I get a chance to redeem myself as soon as I get my…bearings…”
Rarity had just looked around and for the first time noticed the scenery that had surrounded them. As she did, her eyes grew wide. Twilight had largely not considered the area around her- -it was alien, as was everything to her- -but she smiled when she realized why this environment had caused all of Rarity’s malaise to immediately dissipate.
All around them was a forest. It was not the vast, cold sort that populated the land near Ponyville, or the alien looking forests of enormous horsetails and strange moss that populated the highlands. Instead, it was a lush and dense jungle consisting of plants that looked like more narrow, elegant versions of plants that might very well be found on ancient Equestria- -save for the fact that every stem, leaf, and branch was made out of crystal.
The ponies looked around in amazement at the sparkling world around them. The canopy overhead left the whole area mostly dark, but let through light at various angles that left an enchanting glow throughout the area. Many of the plants seemed to glow from within, and those that did not reflected light brilliantly.
“Oh my,” said Rarity, stepping near a tall fern whose leafs consisted of thin pink crystals. She touched it gingerly, and found that although hard it had some give, as would be expected from a living plant. These were clearly not statues; they were quite alive. “This…this is simply…”
“Shiny?” suggested Rainbow Dash.
Rarity winced. “I was going to say ‘marvelous’, or ‘fabulous’, or even ‘whimsical’. But yes. Clearly, ‘shiny’ collects all of those adjectives together quite adequately.”
“I still cannot tell if that is sarcasm,” said Silken. “And personal choice.”
Applejack looked up at the crystals, clearly intrigued but not nearly as much so as Rarity. “This place just keeps getting weirder and weirder. Hey, do any of you feel that?”
“Feel what?” asked Twilight.
“It’s warmer,” said Rainbow Dash. She looked around. “This place really feels like a jungle. It’s not cold at all.”
“That might be a residual effect of the explosion overhead,” said Twilight. “Or…”
“Or what?”
“Or this place is a result of the residual love that Cadence left behind in the Crystal Empire when she protected it. I only thought it had been to give us enough time to evacuate…but now…”
“Oh, darling!” said Rarity, picking a crystalline nut from one of the thin trees. “You’re overthinking it! Can’t we just revel in the beauty? I mean, look at this!”
“A walnut?” asked Applejack, raising an eyebrow.
“A CRYSTAL walnut!” Rarity examined it closely and gasped. “Made of flawless red emerald, too!”
“Isn’t that just ruby?” asked Applejack.
Rarity gasped, shielding the emerald as though it had been insulted. “Heavens no! Ruby is a corundum, this is a beryl! And I could make an incredible necklace out of it!” She looked up at the tree. “Or, if I had two, a pair of earrings…and if I had some leaves…oh my, this place is like something out of my dreams!”
“It certainly has animals,” said Fluttershy, picking up a large beetle that appeared to be, more or less, a large gemstone with legs and little compound-diamond eyes. “Aww.”
“And liquid water!” said Pinkie Pie. “And fresh smells, and pretty lights, and quicksand, and- -GRFBLTHBLEFL!”
Twilight groaned. “Silken?”
Silken obliged and reached into the pit of quicksand, quickly snagging Pinkie and drawing her out. Pinkie spat out some of the exceedingly sparkly substance. “Bah!” she said. “Thanks, Silken. It just came up and got me!” She leaned in and whispered. “It’s surprisingly quick!”
With care so as to not bruise her, Silken set Pinkie down on far less soft ground. That there was any quicksand out here at all was a strange sign indeed; even in ancient times, the Crystal Empire had always been deathly cold. It had, in fact, been one of the first locations to fall to the new ice age. There should have been no heat at all, and Twilight wondered if they had arrived in the right place after all.
Her friends turned to her, though. They were looking to her for leadership. Looking into their faces, Twilight had never before been so tempted to comply with the captain’s suggestion: to take them and leave, bringing them back to the Empire where they would be safe and out of danger.
That may very well have been impossible now, though.
“So what’s the plan?” asked Applejack.
“Yeah!” said Rainbow Dash. “Whose rump is getting roasted next? Because we are totally on a role!”
“That one was sarcasm!” said Silken, suddenly. “I got that one!”
“Um…no. It wasn’t. At least, it wasn’t supposed to be.”
“Oh.”
“I need to get to the tomb,” said Twilight. “Cadence is buried there, with my brother. I need her genetic code to make an antidote for the Mortality Virus. We need to get there.”
“And then we leave?” said Rarity. “To a place with warm beds? And baths?”
Twilight paused for a long moment, and looked at Silken. “I’m not sure,” she said. “Light Gloom took control of my ship.”
“So?” said Rainbow Dash. “Didn’t you say he was your student?”
“Yeah,” said Twilight, darkly.
“Well,” said Fluttershy. “I’m sure you just sit down and have a nice conversation with him.”
“After he just fired a forbidden weapon at a planet that I was on?!”
“Well…yes…but he tried to get us off to safety first, didn’t he?”
“And where does that leave the windigoes, or the shoggoths? Or even the animals!”
“Twilight,” said Rarity. “There’s no way he could have known about those things!”
“I agree with Twilight,” said Applejack. “He knew darn well we were in the way of his big fancy beam and he still pulled the trigger. That’s not something friendly ponies do.”
“Ooh! Ooh! I know! Pick me, pick me!” said Pinkie Pie, raising her hoof.
“We’re not in class, Pinkie Pie,” said Twilight.
Pinkie Pie took a deep breath. “This Light Gloom guy is actually a jilted lover from an unethical student-teacher relationship where Twilight broke up with him because she was all dark and broody and didn’t have any friends and now he’s all kinds of angry or even went outright insane I don’t know on that part it’s still up for debate but he’s REAL angry and wants revenge and that sort of thing so he got a big beam and tried to ruin Twilight’s mission in order to show her that he cares or- -”
“Pinkie!” cried Rarity. “Breathe!”
Pinkie Pie did, narrowly averting another episode of having passed out. Twilight, meanwhile, turned quite red.
“It wasn’t unethical,” she muttered. Then she cleared her throat. “Besides. He isn’t that kind of pony. Or wasn’t. I don’t know what happened.”
“We can ask him,” said Silken.
“If only.”
“No. I am being serious. We can.” She pointed at her chest. “The communication uplink has rather miraculously survived within me. I suppose it was fortunate I chose not to install it in my butt but in my upper spine instead.”
“You said you lost contact with the ship.”
“I did. But I can still hail it. No doubt, he will send somepony.” Silken paused. “Should I transmit?”
Twilight thought for a moment. “No,” she said. “Not yet. Once I recover the sample, that might be our only option. But not now.”
Silken nodded. “As is your will, Goddess, so shall it be done.”
“Okay,” said Rainbow Dash. “I still can’t get over how cool this ‘Goddess’ thing is.” She suddenly gasped and took to the air. “Do they give you sacrifices? Please tell me they give you sacrifices!”
“Rainbow!” cried Twilight, insulted. “That is NOT how I run my cult!”
They started walking. “What?” said Rainbow Dash, following them. “I didn’t mean, like, you know, pony sacrifices. Like weird statues or money or…”
“Cake!” suggested Pinkie Pie.
“This is the Cult of Twilight,” said Rainbow Dash, rolling her eyes. “Not the Cult of Celestia.”
“So…books?”
Rainbow Dash laughed oddly loud and snorted. Twilight was glad to hear that sound, but something above her gave her pause. She stopped, falling back from the group, and looked up.
“Twilight?” said Rarity. “Is something wrong, dear?”
Twilight continued to watch for a second longer, and then lowered her head, smiling at Rarity. “No,” she said. “Everything is fine.”
They started walking again, and Twilight felt bad about having lied to her friend. In actuality, she had seen a pair of unmared Cult drones pass overhead toward the direction where Cadence’s tomb was supposed to be. That was an ominous sign, and Twilight’s heart had sunk as she realized what it likely meant.
She did not want to tell her friends, though, until they got closer. She did not want to alarm them if she did not have to. In her mind, she still hoped that Fluttershy was right, and that this would not end with anypony else having to get hurt.
The forest progressed evenly, growing neither thicker nor more sparse. The land below was not rocky, but difficult to navigate. It was marked with gorges with slow-moving, silty water at the bottoms, and dramatic but slight changes in elevation caused by the crystal plants producing layers of roots that formed the ground, between which were pits of mud and quicksand.
The whole time, Rarity was looking upward and around at everything with the joy of a filly in a toy store. Everywhere she looked, there seemed to be a new and spectacular form. This was, after all, a forest that was almost entirely free of dirt, where even the insects that Rarity would normally have shrunk from glimmered with jewels of every shape and color.
Silken also seemed intrigued, although she clearly did not share in Rarity’s joy. In fact, the sight of the crystals seemed to make her sad.
“Silken?” said Twilight, falling to the rear of the group while Rarity bounded ahead with the others, squealing with delight at the preponderance of crystal. “Are you alright?”
“I am always alright. I am programmed that way.”
“You aren’t programmed, Silken. No remni are.”
“All remni are, even if there was no one to program us but ourselves.” Silken looked out at the forest, and once again looked sad.
“It is pretty, isn’t it,” said Twilight.
“I have rarely seen anything so beautiful,” said Silken. “And I am glad to have seen this.” She paused, but then continued. “Sometimes I wonder if that is why I am still here. If it is because there are so many things I never managed to see in life. I tried, Goddess. I tried so very hard.”
“Is that why you are sad?”
Silken looked down at Twilight and smiled softly. “I am a remnus. I do not feel sadness. None of us do, as we are not programmed to. And I assure you, Twilight Sparkle: that is indeed the greatest lie I have ever told you.”
“But why?”
“Why?” Silken paused, thinking, as though she had never considered it before. “Because of the stories, I suppose. That my mother told me.”
“About Cadence. Your grandmother.”
Silken nodded. “Yes.”
“She’s like you now,” said Twilight. “Not alive, but not on the other side either. Trapped in between.”
“That is true, and that thought does sadden me, even if your analogy is wrong. It is not me that the Lost Goddess is like, Twilight Sparkle, but you.”
“Nine weeks ago, I might have agreed with you,” sighed Twilight. “But if that’s not what makes you sad, then what? How can something this beautiful make you feel bad?”
“Because this forest was built by her love. I know that to you that is only a hypothesis, but I know it. I do not know how, but I do. What makes me wish I could cry is that this product of her love exists here, and has existed here, evolving for untold centuries- -but that none were here to see it. My mother never saw her love, nor did I, and my daughter never can. It does not sadden me that she is trapped between life and death, Twilight Sparkle. It saddens me that she is all alone.”
Twilight paused to consider this as they walked. She ended up considering it for a long time. They walked together in silence, Twilight Sparkle and what remained of a pony that had been her grandniece in life. It was a strange state that Twilight had never expected she would be in, and the more she considered what Silken had said the more she realized that this really was a sad place. Silken had been right- -about more than one thing.
Even though they walked in silence for some time, it was not much longer before Silken suddenly stopped. Her mechanical eyes flitted about the forest.
“What is it?” said Twilight.
“You will want to get to them,” said Silken. “Be quiet, and be careful. The foliage will reduce their scanning acuity, but not nullify it completely.”
Twilight did not need to ask what Silken meant. She nodded and spread her wings, flying forward to the rest of her friends. They had gotten far following Rarity, but not escaped Silken’s vision. Twilight found them easily and landed in front of the group.
“Twilight!” said Rarity. “Why, we were just talking about you!”
“Yeah!” said Pinkie. “We were discussing in detail what we thought you and your student used to study! And I do mean EQUISITE detail!”
“Theoretical biology and applied magical defenses,” said Twilight. “Light Gloom is an expert in both, but that’s not the point.”
“Ha! I was right! They were studying biology! You owe me twelve bits, Fluttershy!”
Twilight looked from one of them to the other, and was filled with a slight, creeping dread when she realized that one particular Pegasus was missing.
“Where is Rainbow Dash?” she asked.
“Right here,” said Rainbow Dash, dropping from the canopy. “Twilight. You have to see this.”
Twilight frowned and nodded. It seemed that Rainbow Dash and Silken had seen the same thing.
She was led to a part of the forest where the land suddenly became brighter . Rainbow Dash dropped to the ground and moved quietly, as did the others, until they came quite suddenly to a clearing.
It was not a normal clearing, though. Nor was it natural by any means. The crystal trees had been removed, but not cut exactly. Rather, they had been sliced cleanly at an even height, leaving nothing but glittering stumps all at an identical level in a vast circle. Far in the distance, Twilight could see the other side of the forest, and looming over it the decaying and overgrown remains of the Crystal Palace.
“N- -no!” cried Rarity, dropping to her knees with tears in her eyes. “All of these trees! All of that crystal, cut down! And they didn’t even leave me the logs! Who could have done such a horrible, ghastly thing?!”
“I have one idea,” said Twilight, darkly.
It was actually quite obvious. They stood in the center of the ring. They were members of the Cult of Twilight. That much was obvious. Many of them had come down to the planet, and they stood beside both remni and heavy mechs. The mechs were something that had always disturbed Twilight; they tended to have been built from nonorthoscopic conversion of living ponies, often those whose bodies were failing for one reason or another. Overhead, many small spiral-shaped vessels slowly revolved, joining the mechs and ponies in their task.
They had all surrounded a single crystal building, a single tower of blue-pink crystal that had not aged or decayed across the millennia that it had sat unseen and alone while the now leveled forest had grown up around it. It was the upper part of the tomb, a crystal marker of the grave of the two ponies who rested below it.
The cultists seemed to know this. One of the heavy mechs had placed itself in front of the structure, digging its four massive hooves into the ground and directing its forward array directly at the crystal. Even at a distance, Twilight could make out the blinding light of the plasma beam that it was directing at the crystal, and the technomagic spells cast around it to aid in focus and power modulation. Other cultists were assisting with their own support magic, and cables had been drawn from the ships above to augment the beam. They were attempting to cut their way into the tomb.
Then, in the distance, Twilight saw one of the cultists shift position. He turned to them, the optics in his mask glinting even at a distance of one hundred meters. Twilight immediately pulled her friends back into the forest with her magic while she herself waited for a moment. The cultist watched for a moment more, and then turned back to his work. When Twilight was sure he had not seen them, she joined her friends deeper in the crystal forest.
“What are they doing?” asked Fluttershy, her voice betraying grave concern.
“They’re trying to cut their way into the tower.” Twilight swore, causing Rarity to gasp. It had been a particularly nasty expression involving a certain lesser-known aspect of Celestia’s hair. “It all makes sense now…”
“Um, no,” said Rainbow Dash. “It doesn’t. Like, at all.”
“He’s trying to get to Cadence,” said Twilight.
“But why?” asked Rarity.
“I don’t know that part yet. But this is bad. Really bad.”
“How long before he cuts through?” asked Applejack. Twilight sighed, happy to hear that Applejack was still better at focusing on practical thoughts than she was. “And when he does?”
“That doesn’t matter,” said Twilight. “The tower is just a marker. It doesn’t lead down to the tomb.” Twilight thought for a moment, trying to wrack her brain. “This was originally Shining Armor’s tomb. All of this was a park dedicated to him. There were six small towers, built like a star.” Twilight pointed to her cutie mark; her brother’s had carried an identical star, mounted in the center of a shield. “It was supposed to look like his cutie mark.”
“So it’s fine then,” said Rarity. “If that tower is only decorative, then it doesn’t matter if he destroys it. Apart from the loss of a simply stunning piece of architecture.” She sighed. “I would bet my blouse that it looked simply stunning in the forest…”
“Light Gloom isn’t an idiot. I raised him better than that.”
“You raised him?” Pinkie Pie made a face. “Um, you know how I said ‘unethical’? Well, you’re getting into Apple-family territory now.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” snapped Applejack.
“What it means is that he’ll eventually figure out that he needs to get to one of the outer structures. And when he does, it’s a straight path to the tomb underground.”
“That seems pretty dumb,” said Rainbow Dash. “I mean, aren’t ancient tombs supposed to have all sorts of curses and enchantments and big clay ponies that get up and try to smash you, or maybe walls that shoot little darts covered in poison- -”
“This isn’t a Daring Do novel,” said Applejack, rolling her eyes.
“No. She’s right,” said Twilight. “There IS a spell. To prevent things like this from happening. Only a blood relative of Cadence or Shining Armor can enter.”
“Well, then, it should be perfectly safe,” said Rarity.
“It would be,” said Silken as she caught up with the group. “Save for the fact that every living pony apart from the Tribunal is a direct descendant of Flurry Heart.”
“So everything is borked,” said Pinkie Pie. She shrugged. “Just like Flurry Heart, apparently.”
“Not entirely,” said Twilight. “We still have the advantage of time. Silken, you need to come with me. I know where the old towers used to be. One of them might still be open.”
“You’re not leaving us,” said Rainbow Dash.
“Yeah,” said Pinkie Pie. “I get the impression that this is going to be real climactic! We want to be a part of it too!”
“I don’t,” said Fluttershy.
“Nopony care’s about your opinion, Fluttershy,” whispered Pinkie Pie as she stroked Fluttershy’s pink mane. “You’re basically our Shaggy.”
“You can’t come,” said Twilight. “Only blood relatives, remember? I’m Shining Armor’s sister, and Silken is Cadence’s granddaughter. The rest of you can’t get through.”
Applejack did a wide-eyed double take, looking at Silken. “Wait, what? How in the name of sour silage…you know what, never mind. I’d rather not know.”
“You can’t go in there alone!” cried Rainbow Dash. “I mean, what if they get in?”
“Which is why if they do start searching for the other entrances, you need to distract them.” Twilight smiled. “And we’re not going to be alone.”
“But you just said only blood-relatives could enter,” said Fluttershy.
“Yes. And Silken and I are not the only ones that meet that qualification on our side.”
As Twilight said it, two invisibility spells on either side of the group began to dissipate. They faded and sparked, and two tall creatures became visible. Eeach of them stared forward, the many eyes that covered their golden masks staring unblinkingly at the now terrified group as their tentacles pulsated in the air. One of them was the same that they had met before, in the castle and again at the almost-battle with the windigoes.
“Oh buck,” said Rainbow Dash, her eyes widening. “Twilight- -you’ve got to be kidding!”
“They’re clones,” said Twilight. “Genetically identical to me.” She shrugged. “I told you. We won’t be alone. If Light Gloom does managed to get down there…”
“Oh, he’ll regret it,” said Rainbow Dash. “Voice of experience here. He will NOT be having a good time.”
“Unless he’s into that sort of thing,” joked Pinkie Pie. Nopony laughed.
The towers remained, but they had not aged well. Unlike the central marker tower, the old towers were built in a far more primitive era; had Light Gloom chosen to attack them, their crystal would not have withstood exposure to the cutting plasma for more than a few seconds.
Despite this, Twilight was still able to find them. They were where she remembered. The tomb of Cadence had been one of the last things created by the Exodus; it had not been subject to the same cataclysms- -natural or pony-made- -that had torn apart the world in the time leading up to the apocalypse. This place had been sacred to the crystal ponies even before Cadence was interred there; they had taken great pains to preserve the final resting place of their first and most revered king.
If anything, it was simply natural changes in the landscape that had rendered some of the points of the star inaccessible. The first one was badly overgrown, with the trunk of a tree made of pure diamond covering the entrance. While magic could have cut through or transfigured it, the spell necessary would have taken far too much time to apply. The second point had vanished completely, and Twilight had no idea where it had gone.
Twilight was beginning to lose hope that any point would be accessible when they finally reached the third one. It, much to her relief, was intact.
They entered, with Silken and Twilight in the lead projecting light as the two creatures followed behind them silently through the shadows. The tower was not large- -it did not even approach the canopy of the trees, which had concealed it from Light Gloom’s scans- -and it served only to house a crystal staircase that led downward into the ground, toward a tunnel.
Like the tower itself, the tunnel was overgrown with plant life. Much of it was vines that had long ago germinated close to the stairs and stretched upward toward the light, but there were also sharp crystalline roots that grew from above and hang through cracks in the ceiling. The floor was wet, and there was a sound of dripping everywhere.
“I can’t believe this is still here,” said Twilight. She followed the hall, her hooves splashing as she walked. “It’s been so long…”
“It seems to have been well constructed,” said Silken. Her eyes searched the walls. “It is possible that the roots surrounding this corridor have served to reinforce the main hall.” She paused. “Perhaps they are protecting the tomb.”
“They are plants,” said Twilight. “Even if they’re crystal, they don’t choose to do or not to do anything. They have no central nervous system.”
“Neither do the two warriors that are walking behind us and staring at my robotic flank and silky-smooth tail.”
“That’s different.”
“Not really. I have seen many things here that I had not expected to see. I see no reason why crystals cannot bear sentience, any more reason than my own processor can- -or whatever diffuse organic consciousness that these creatures possess.” A low clicking groan came from behind her. Silken looked back. “I do not know if that was agreement, or protest.”
“Or just a random sound.”
“That is possible. I am admittedly still surprised that you managed to convince them to come with us.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then why are they here?”
“They followed us. I don’t know why. I don’t think I’m supposed to.”
“It should be obvious. They want to help us.”
“I can’t guarantee that. The way they see the world, it’s like their looking at it sideways. Helping us and snapping us in half could be the same conclusion to identical logical progressions. They could turn on us at any moment. So, I need you to watch them. VERY carefully.”
Silken’s eyes tilted to look over her shoulder. “I can do that,” she said, “but I do not think they will become aggressive.”
“You can’t know that.”
“No, but I can believe it. If they are helping us, they have to understand that there is some significance, either in our task or in you personally.”
“Why would they care about me?” Twilight looked back too and saw the creatures. They were moving swiftly through the darkness with no need for light, their tentacle antennae trailing behind them and their golden, poorly-constructed masks reflecting the light of Twilight’s horn. In that light and the shadows it produced, she realized that the masks looked eerily like her own face. “I didn’t create them. They see me as a reminder of what they should have been.”
“I do not think so,” said Silken. “They do not mind what they are, I think. And to them, you are an equal. Or higher.”
“Higher?”
Silken nodded. “I think they comprehend what they are, and what you are to them.”
“Which is what, Silken?”
“You are their mother.”
Twilight shivered. “Don’t ever say that again, Silken,” she said, although only halfheartedly. Although she had never considered that thought before, in a perverse way it was true- -and Twilight found that she could not look back into the shadows behind her again, for fear of what she might see this time. cros I?� �4
The other ponies were careful to stay silent- -something not at all easy when one fifth of the group was Pinkie Pie- -as they watched through the tree line at the clearing where Twilight’s cultists were gathering.
“I can’t see a darn thing,” muttered Applejack. She looked up to the trees overhead where Rainbow Dash was watching. “How about you?”
“Yeah. I can.”
“What are they doing?”
“I don’t know, cult stuff.”
“Well that is certainly helpful,” said Rarity, softly. “And that was sarcasm…” She looked over her shoulder, expecting to see Silken. “Great,” she sighed. “Now she’s gotten me announcing it.”
“What kind of cult things are they doing?” asked Fluttershy. She inhaled sharply. “They aren’t doing sacrifices or walking around with scary hats, are they? Or- -or- -robes?”
“They’ve definitely got the robes,” said Applejack. “Even I can see that.” Fluttershy quivered.
“I wish I could see them more closely,” said Rarity. “I’ve always wondered exactly what one should wear to a cult ritual. Is it supposed to behave more like a uniform, or do they each make their own unique outfit?”
“Every time I went to cult rituals it was more like a uniform,” said Pinkie Pie. All the other ponies looked at her.
“You were in a cult?” asked Fluttershy. “I didn’t know that.”
“There’s a lot of stuff you don’t know about me.”
“Makes sense,” said Applejack, turning back to the clearing. “I’ve met your family.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
“Take it as you like. But your family members to get married based on what a rock tells them…so…”
“Actually,” said Pinkie Pie. “Now that I think about it, you’re kind of right.”
The group looked out toward where the crystal tower stood, and they saw that the massive legged tank that had been trying to cut into the crystal had stopped its attempt. There was no light flowing from it anymore, and the spells it had been casting had stopped.
“Oh my!” said Rarity. “They’ve stopped cutting!”
“Maybe they’re taking a break,” suggested Fluttershy.
“Darling, one does not simply ‘take a break’ from cutting a stone! You lose your place!”
“This isn’t good,” said Applejack. “Have we heard any word from Twilight?”
“No,” said Fluttershy. “We haven’t.”
“We don’t even know if she got down there yet,” said Rainbow Dash.
“Or if there were zombies and ghosts and draugr down there,” said Pinkie Pie.
“Z…zombies?”
“There aren’t any zombies,” said Applejack, “but they wouldn’t be our biggest problem anyway.” She pointed to the clearing. “If they’ve stopped there, then they might be about to start looking for the other entrances!”
Rarity gasped. “But then we have to do something! If they find her- -”
Pinkie Pie stood up and began to bounce excitedly. “Ooh! It’s distraction time! DISTRACTION TIME!”
“Pinkie! Stay quiet!” ordered Applejack. “We still don’t know if they’re even going to start looking for- -”
“Who cares?” said Rainbow Dash. “I’m tired of just sitting here!”
Before Applejack could stop her, Rainbow Dash shot forward, leaving a rainbow contrail behind her. Applejack covered her eyes from the glare, and when she looked back she found that Pinkie Pie had vanished as well.
She sighed. “Well, I guess we’re doing this.”
The beam roared as it burned through the air, and Light Gloom’s optics immediately took readings of the impact sight on the crystal tower. To his dismay, the surface was completely undamaged. It had been superheated to the point where it was glowing with ultraviolet incandescence, but the crystalline surface had not melted in the slightest. The tower remained uninjured.
Light Gloom continued to watch, even though he knew that the project was not progressing. The sky overhead was growing darker and more gloomy, and he saw lightning coming from the eastern horizon, beyond the remnants of what appeared to have once been an impressive castle. As he considered how this might hinder his divine mission, a tall remnus with Cult colors approached him from the side, her narrow legs picking through the stumps of the crystal trees with ease. Despite her grace, though, she paused to twist one of her wrists as though it were damaged.
“Corona Fade,” said Light Gloom, addressing the remnus beside him. “I trust all of your repairs are in order.”
“They are,” she said, somewhat defensively. “All my diagnostic checks indicate that the new body is functioning perfectly.”
“But?”
Fade sighed. “You know how it is for us. Two bodies that for all purposes should be identical never feel the same. But I will adapt to it. I always do.”
“And you no doubt disagree with my use of your old body parts.”
“As the base parts for the body of the Prodijila’s former captain? I neither disagree nor disagree. That decision falls to you.”
“But?”
Fade’s narrow eyes stared at the crystal before her, and she watched the area where the plasma beam was failing to cut, even with the assistance from a number of cultists who were directing their technomagic into the target point as well. “Did you know that, in life, I loved you? You never returned my affection. I do not think I ever told you.”
“Those times are past us, Corona.”
“I know that. Such things have far less meaning to remni. But I do hold some part of my former living self, as we all do. And I worry that my failure may have cost me your respect.”
Light Gloom paused for a long moment before speaking. “The dimensional hammer would have vaporized this stone in an instant, and the tomb beneath it as well,” he said. “But I failed myself.”
“You were undermined.”
“No, I underestimated those who stood against the Will of the Goddess. And I failed. What caused that failure does not change that fact.” He turned his head to Corona Fade, and their optics met. “You were a great general in life, and are a great ally in death. No. I would only lose my respect for you if you had given up. Your failure does not concern me.”
Fade’s expression did not change. “Thank you, High Priest. And I will not fail again.”
“See that you do not.” Light Gloom looked at the crystal and saw that it remained unchanging. He sighed, and then signaled the cutting to stop. The mech- -her name was Vast Six- -silenced her beam, and it attenuated quickly until it went out entirely. The others stopped their magical attack as well, and Light Gloom stared at the point where they had been aiming. The crystal was still glowing, but as he watched it cooled to its normal state. There was not even the slightest scratch on its surface.
“That beam could have cut through the hull on five naval dreadnaughts,” said Corona Fade, sounding mildly surprised.
“Indeed,” said Light Gloom, pleased by the accuracy of her calculation even if it was a relatively simple one. He stared at the undamaged crystal. “I am familiar with the concept of lost arts, but this is the first time I have ever encountered a lost science. This substance is several orders of magnitude more durable than anything we can currently produce, and yet was built over four hundred fifty thousand years ago.”
“And that impresses you?”
“Corona, do you not feel a certain excitement in finding something that every living pony has forgotten how to make?”
“No,” she said, being entirely honest. “I feel excitement when my mission progresses. And this one is clearly encountering a block. I do not believe this is the time for curiosity.”
“But it is,” said Light Gloom. “We will have to study the crystal if we want to break through it. That may take some time. Are you in any particular rush?”
“No,” said Fade. “Of course not. I am in no hurry, and will be happy with however long it requires so long as I am engaged in this mission.”
“I had only hoped that it would go quickly, especially considering…” Light Gloom paused as he suddenly noticed a rainbow-colored contrail moving through the atmosphere overhead. Corona Fade noticed it as well, and they both looked up to see it rising over the clearing, rising up amongst their floating secondary ships and into the upper atmosphere. Then, as it dropped suddenly, it exploded with a tremendous plume of rainbows that shot out across the stormy sky in every direction. The physical force of the rainbows was so great that it buffeted the ships, causing them to drift outward slightly before returning to their original positions.
“A sonic rainboom,” said Fade, sounding mildly amused. “My great great grandmother told me stories about such a thing. I had never expected to see one with my own eyes, though.”
“Such is the glory that ponies once had, in ancient times,” lamented Light Gloom. “If only my mask allowed me to see color. Oh well.”
Part of the rainboom shot forward, leaving a trail behind it. Light Gloom began tracking that portion, as he knew that it was a pony. As he did, he suddenly noticed something pink and organic standing near him.
“Hey…” said the pink monstrosity as it stared up at Corona Fade. “I know you!”
“I do not know how you could,” said Fade, “my body is literally identical to that of all other Cult remni.”
“Oh. Well, sorry Corona Fade, I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to know it was you!” The pink pony then bounced off giggling toward another cultist who was moving a heavy cable lowered from one of the shuttles overhead. The pink pony promptly threw confetti into his face, although he did not deviate from his course. None of them did. Few among them seemed to even care that there were ponies around them, and continued with their work.
There were more than two ponies though. Light Gloom noticed a white unicorn, something that immediately intrigued him. Unicorns, after all, had been the primeval inventors of magic; with their extinction, a great deal had been lost and an even larger quantity of profound theories were left to remain permanently undiscovered.
This one, though, appeared to be no mage. She approached one of cultists.
“Oh my,” she said. “These robes are…well, a bit more drab up close in all honesty.” The cultist turned and the unicorn gasped and shrank. “Oh my, no no no no! That mask, no! NO. You just CAN’T do that! I know you must be trying to look imposing, but the asymmetry, the lack of color- -and wearing Twilight Sparkle’s cutie mark on your face is just gauche!” She cleared her throat. “Haven’t you ever considered a simple mask? Perhaps flat black?”
“No,” said the cultist curtly. She then walked around the unicorn, ignoring her.
“Hey!” cried a pale orange earth pony at the edge of the camp. She was dancing around wildly. “Over here! Over here! Why don’t y’all come and fight me like a mare!”
“Distraction, distraction, distraction!” laughed the pink pony. “I’m a distraction!”
Fade turned to Light Gloom. “I shall have them removed.”
“Do not bother,” said Light Gloom. He performed a wide-field scan of the area and pinpointed the locations of each of the ponies. Only one of the five was capable of using magic, but she appeared comparatively weak. He compensated for a unicorn twelve times her power to be safe, and then engaged the spell.
Orange technomagic shot out from him, tracing the path he had mapped for it. Rather than a stun spell, it struck each of the ponies and formed spherical orange bubbles around each. The blue Pegasus above was plucked out of the sky, and the others were trapped easily, including a second Pegasus over one hundred meters away who had been cowering at the treeline.
Light Gloom quickly brought the spheres to him, aligning them in a row before him.
“Hey!” cried the rainbow-maned Pegasus as she struggled against the bubble. “Let me out!”
“No,” said Light Gloom.
“These are the ponies associated with Twilight Sparkle,” said Corona Fade.
“That confirms my hypothesis,” said Light Gloom. “It also confirms that Twilight Sparkle is here.”
“Wait, what?” said the orange earth pony. Her face scrunched. “Uh…no she isn’t.”
“You are a terrible liar. However, I do believe I ought to thank you all. It would only be polite. If Twilight is here but not among you, then she must have found an alternate entrance to the crypt. This central tower would be a decoy, then. Thank you for this information.”
“Worst. Distraction. Ever,” said the pink pony, looking disheartened.
“I will begin scanning the area,” said Light Gloom, interfacing with the ship in orbit as well as the support craft that surrounded him. “Corona, you will lead a search party.”
“There is no need,” said a voice separate from the others. Neither Light Gloom nor Corona Fade turned to see who was approaching, as they both already recognized the voice of the large mare who refused to use a name.
“I was informed you had elected to stay in orbit,” said Light Gloom.
“There is no point in it,” said the mare. She looked at the group, her optic focusing on them one by one. “So our intelligence was true, then.”
“No,” said the pink pony. “It was false! We’re not even here!”
“Quiet, Pinkie Pie.” The mare turned to Light Gloom. “These are ponies, then?”
“No. Perfunctory scanning and extrapolation indicates that although they have the primary signatures of ponies, their actual bodies are a combination of tissue from an unidentified type of organism and an unknown class of techno-organic technology.”
“Implying they were built. By whom?”
“I cannot determine that, nor is it relevant.”
“I suppose not. Right now I would assume that finding the tomb is the top priority.”
“That is a correct assumption. Hence why we need to begin scanning.”
“The monument is laid out like a star,” said the mare. “It has six points as entrances. The central crystal sits over the tomb but is not penetrable.”
“Then we know exactly where to look.” Light Gloom turned to Corona Fade. “Gather a team. I will join you personally, but I also want you to take Twilight Sparkle’s finest warriors. We do not know what we will fine down there.”
“Yes, High Priest.”
“And Corona: I value you both for your role, and as a dear friend. But do not fail me again.”
“No,” said Corona, bowing. “I will not fail you, nor will I fail the Goddess. We will prevail.”
Light Gloom nodded. “I know. Because we have to. It is the Empire’s only hope.”
Twilight pushed deeper and deeper into the hall. It had a downward slope, so as she moved farther and farther the path became deeper. In time, the roots grew thin and vanished, leaving the hallway clean with little other than dust and the occasional pool or small stream of water that ran down it from a higher elevation. Twilight was sure that at this point, she was somewhere below the clearing made by the cultists above. She only hoped that the thickness of the crystal would protect her from being detected by their spells, and that they had not yet discovered the true entrance to the tomb.
At this depth, the shape of the walls had changed. Their architecture now included wide crystal arches, both to hold up the stone above as well as to provide spacers between the crystalline murals that covered the walls. Twilight had forgotten many of them, but a few had been imbedded in her memory so well that replicas of them still hung in the more forgotten places of her complex on Dusk. They showed her brother in various stages of his life, glorifying him at important points of his personal history. Doing so was not hard; much of what he had accomplished was indeed epic. Many murals had been added later to depict Cadence, but doing so had hardly been necessary; both ponies were featured together in virtually every one of the images regardless of to whom they were dedicated.
“I wish I could have known him,” said Silken.
“He was a great pony.”
“Based on this, I would agree. Although is it strange that his depictions here greatly remind me of my husband?”
“No,” lied Twilight, recalling a certain fling she had had in her youth with a particular orange-colored crystal guard. “That isn’t weird at all.”
Twilight suddenly slowed. They had reached the gate to the crypt itself. It stood as a large door of crystal, flanked on both sides by enormous crystal statues in the shape of ponies. As Twilight approached, a dim glow of magic formed in the center of each of the statues. With a rumble, both of them suddenly moved. They awoke and each took a step forward, lowering crystal spears toward the interlopers.
“Oh my!” said Silken, excitedly. “I had heard stories about crystal ponies!”
“Those aren’t crystal ponies,” said Twilight. “They’re golems.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. I built them.”
Silken looked disappointed, and Twilight approached the golems. They saw her, their crystal faces tracing her path. When they spoke, their voices were booming and their language the spoken version of Equestrian Universal, the language that had existed when Twilight had first carved them.
“Only those who bear relation to those who lie here in peace may enter,” said one of them.
“Those who do not meet this requirement and who would disturb their eternal rest must face us,” added the other.
“I am Twilight Sparkle, sister of Shining Armor. All of us here meet your requirement.”
The golems did not lower their spears, but they permitted Twilight to pass. She walked by and to the door behind them. The pair of shoggoth queens followed her as well, and the golems did not react to their presence. When Silken did, though, they shifted, moving their faces closer to her.
“You are no longer living,” they said.
“No. I am not,” said Silken. “But I wish to see my grandmother, and my grandfather, even if could never meet them in life.”
The golems stared for a moment longer, and then raised their spears and stepped back to their original positions. They had accepted Silken as a legitimate heir of both Cadence and Shining armor. Twilight was relieved, but only partially. This was just another sign that this particular protection spell would be useless against modern ponies.
Silken smiled. “I got through,” she said. “Which is obvious I suppose.” She turned her attention toward the crystal door. “So. How do we open it?”
“We don’t,” said Twilight. “The golems are just part of the spell. They’re really just for show. Here. Watch.”
Twilight walked briskly toward the crystal wall. She did not stop, and as Silken watched, she collided with it. Rather than physically striking the thick crystal, though, she passed through it as though it were a liquid.
Without hesitation, the pair of queens followed her. Silken did the same, feeling the crystal that should have been hard and nearly indestructible give way and flow over her body. When she reached the other side, she found herself in a grand room lit by a line of luminescent crystals. Twilight was standing there, alone.
“Where are the others?” asked Silken.
“They left,” said Twilight. “Invisibility spells.”
“They are still in here, though?”
Twilight nodded. “I think they are waiting. But we need to hurry.” Twilight took to the air. “The central vault is not much farther.”
When they finally did reach it, the vault was exactly what Twilight remembered. The room appeared round, but was actually a complex polyhedron with regular, perfect sides made from pure luminescent crystal. The air itself seemed to glow around the contents in the center. This was something of a shock, even though Twilight was seeing exactly what she remembered. Nothing had changed, and it was still here, a room that she had shed so many tears in two times in the distant past.
She no longer flew, and no longer ran. This place was silent, and yet she could feel the air of reverence that remained. It was the energy of this room that had created the forests overhead, and where the magic of love was the strongest- -both from those who had been forced to abandon it in distant past, and from the one who had given her soul so that those ponies would have a chance to escape an icy fate.
There was a single dais in the center, one place where the two lovers- -one mortal, and one immortal- -had both come to lay. On the left lay Twilight’s brother, his bones encased in crystal that when viewed gave the illusion that he was still whole and just sleeping. Twilight felt tears run down her cheeks as she put her hoof on the crystal, and then silently hugged it.
“Hello, big brother,” she said. “I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long.”
She squeezed the cold crystal, and then released it, turning to the bench that had been constructed beside her brother’s grave. When she looked, Twilight felt herself gasp. She had known what would be there, but she could not help herself.
Cadence was there. Her body was not encased in crystal, but exposed to the glowing and reverent air while she lay on a bed of crystal. To Twilight, it looked like she was sleeping. In a way, she was, even though it would be impossible for her to ever awaken. The way she had been left had betrayed the illusion: the way the crystal ponies had arranged her mane, and the eternal crystal flowers that she held in her hooves between her golden horseshoes. Twilight thought she would have felt nothing, but she had been arrogant and wrong. She found herself crying unabashedly.
“Cadence,” she said. “I’m sorry, I should have known…you should be ruling beside me, not here, not like this…”
Twilight felt a narrow metal hoof on her shoulder, and she suddenly turned around to hug Silken. Silken hugged back.
“She is beautiful,” said Silken. “She looks like mother did.” Twilight did not answer. “And after all this time…”
Twilight sniffled, and wiped her eyes with the back of her hoof. “Yes,” she choked, trying to clear her head. “I know. It’s just…” she turned back to Cadence and cleared her throat. “Her biological processes never stopped. If you wait long enough, you can see her breathe. The crystal ponies probably would have considered it miraculous, if they had ever been able to come back here.”
“We came back,” said Silken.
Twilight nodded.
“Is there any way to wake her up?”
“No,” said Twilight. “I wish there was. Believe me, if there was…” She shook her head angrily. The tears were coming back. “This is part of the curse that makes us immortal. If there is a pony afterlife, she already passed to it. This is what the corpse of an immortal looks like.”
“I do not think there is an afterlife,” said Silken. She brushed a pointed hoof with incredible gentleness through her grandmother’s mane. “In fact, I know there is not. It is part of the reason the living cannot interface with us. Because we know what death looks like. But I hope there is one.”
“How can a machine hope?”
“I just do,” said Silken. “I do not ask why. Perhaps it is why I have existed so long.” She sighed. “But Goddess, I wish I could help her too.”
“There is nothing left to help,” said Twilight, “and nothing that can be done. But she can still help us.”
The air around them remained silent, but Twilight suddenly felt a change. She looked up and around, almost in a panic.
“What is it?” asked Silken.
“I can feel it,” she said. “Others…they’re here.” She met Silken’s eyes. “Light Gloom is here.” �I get the impr7U?� �4
The halls were dark, but not to Light Gloom. He had become accustomed to moving through darkness. As a member of the Cult of Twilight Sparkle, it was something he was familiar with. The optics of his mask and implanted into his face allowed him to see everything. His perception never wavered, and he never blinked. He could never stop seeing, regardless of the conditions. This was something he had accepted: he was the eyes of the Goddess, and her hooves. He was the guardian of her Will.
He did go alone. Beside him on his left stood Corona Fade, leading her force of naked remni and cultists in masks and armor. On his right stood the unnamed mare, who watched the darkness through her own optics intently.
“Tell me,” said the mare. “What are your plans to do with the remains once you find them? The destruction of a pure alicorn- -even in death- -will not be easy.”
“I will do whatever is necessary,” said Light Gloom. “In fact, I will do what my ancestors should have done before they departed this planet. I will give her the burial she deserves.”
“As you attempted to do with the dimensional hammer.”
“Yes.”
“Would you do the same if it was Twilight Sparkle lying there, instead of Cadence?”
“It is our duty to ensure that such a state never befalls the One True Goddess. If she falls, we will rebuild her. We will do whatever it takes.”
“Even if there is nothing that remains?”
“We do not need her to have a physical form. In fact, gods work better when they are abstract.”
The group suddenly paused. Before them stood a door flanked by a pair of crystal giants. As Light Gloom watched, an ancient and extremely powerful spell activated, and he smiled beneath his mask. The structure of the spell was unmistakable; it had obviously been created by the Goddess in her youth. Despite its age, though, it was no less impressive than any of her other achievements.
The golems stepped forward and pointed their spears at the group.
“Only those who bear relation to those who lie here in peace may enter,” said the first
“Those who do not meet this requirement and who would disturb their eternal rest must face us,” added the second.
Light Gloom looked to the mare beside him and nodded. She lowered her head, and then stepped back, taking a small portion of Corona Fade’s troops with her to guard the rear. Light Gloom himself stepped forward.
“The shortest path I have to the Holy Mother is two hundred sixty seven generations,” he said. “My heritage may be thin, but my claim of descent is undeniable. You will find the same of all those assembled here who wish to pass you.”
The golems paused. Although they did not have faces, Light Gloom felt the spell that gave them vision move from one pony to another, holding their vision for the longest time on those of the group who were remni.
“You speak the truth,” said one of the golems. The pair of them stepped back.
“This spell clearly did not function as intended,” said Corona Fade, joining Light Gloom in the lead as they walked toward the door.
“No, it did. Even the Goddess could not have foreseen the current state of our evolution, nor could she have predicted the Holy Mother’s unparalleled fecundity.”
None of them paused at the wall. They all understood the magic that it represented, and knew that each one of them would pass through it with ease. Light Gloom and Corona Fade went through first, and found themselves standing in a dark room on the other side. The others came through, but Light Gloom immediately stopped. In the darkness, he was able to see that this room was meant to have lights. There were luminescent crystal lamps spaced through the tomb- -but they were covered in a strange sort of organic film that blocked out most of the light.
“I do not like this,” said Fade, her narrow pupils scanning the darkness. Almost as if to punctuate her sentence, a low groan issued from the darkness.
“We are not alone,” said Light Gloom. He quickly attempted to scan the darkness, and although he detected signatures of magic, he could not find their source.
“A defense mechanism?”
“Not clear, I need more- -”
There as a sudden thud as one of the cultists fell. Before he was dragged into the darkness, Light Gloom saw that a fleshy tentacle had wrapped itself around one of his legs. He did not scream as he was taken into the darkness, but Light Gloom heard the click of the cultist disconnecting that particular leg, followed by a sudden surge of orange technomagic- -orange that struck against pink-violent.
Beneath his mask, Light Gloom’s eyes grew wide. He now understood, at least partially. That magic was unmistakable. It belonged to the Goddess- -but at the same time it did not. It was corrupted and different, uncontrolled in a way that was the antithesis to the Goddess’s skill and poise.
Before he could even produce a hypothesis as to what was attacking them, a torrent of magic slammed into their formation. Light Gloom had seen it before it struck and performed a calculation of its intensity. Determining that it was far too great to block, he instead used his power assist to dodge. The other cultists, though, did not perform their calculations as quickly. Several attempted to block, summoning technomagic shields. Their shields were struck with the beam and instantly shattered, along with the implants that had been used to project them.
Then Light Gloom saw it. As the beam faded, something emerged from an invisibility spell; the magic that had formerly hidden it changed to a form of glowing armor that had been constructed without any thought for efficiency of power. It spurted and hissed with plasma as the creature attacked. It was like a pony, but larger; its body was a mixture of strange robotics and flesh, a creature built into the form of a pony despite the fact that it most clearly was not or even had ever been one.
It struck silently, and with a flash of gold one of the remni was sliced in half. The others attempted to use their technomagic on it, but it countered and parried those spells that would have harmed it without effort. Those that did strike it had no effect; its physiology was too robust for simple things like stun spells or confusion hexes to have any consequence.
“Light Gloom, look out!” cried Corona Fade. Light Gloom’s rear optics picked up another one of the creatures emerging from the darkness. Fade leapt at it, intending to use her immense strength to push it back. Instead of striking it, though, her body passed through it; Light Gloom watched as the metal and flesh reconfigured themselves, flowing over her body effortlessly. In that instant Light Gloom realized what he was up against, and that they were a thing of beauty.
He dodged, rolling easily away and casting a spell. Suddenly the room was illuminated with his magic, and twelve more of him appeared throughout it.
The creature did not pause. Its eyes- -it had so many eyes- - never left the original, even as he moved to mesh with the crowd of false selves. In an instant, it struck out with lasers and organic spikes, spearing each of the false bodies and dissipating them, leaving Light Gloom alone once again.
Behind him, Light Gloom saw that the battle was going poorly. His soldiers had been trapped in an ambush, and did not know how to compensate for this type of enemy. They were trained in magical dueling, not in facing down beautiful monstrosities.
Light Gloom had an idea of what to do. He focused his magic on the creature and in a flash sliced it in half. It stopped for a moment, its sides nearly falling before they sent out thin strips of flesh that reconnected the two. They merged back together, and different robotic appendages sparked as its damaged armor was welded back together. Light Gloom saw a pair of narrow limbs reach for him- -limbs that were constructed like those of a remnus.
Vortog…plath idena…thanthakta,” the creature said in a sick parody of Twilight Sparkle’s voice. “W…e ARE…TW…ilight…SPAR…kle…”
Light Gloom understood, and he gave the order.
“Fall back,” he said over his communication channel.
“But the remains,” replied Corona Fade. She was not in a panic, but rather questioning the course of the mission.
“Trying to get in is not worth the investment of time. We will tether the entire tomb, and extract it in once piece. Then dump it into the sun as-is.”
Outside, Light Gloom’s orders were executed with precision and speed. The smaller ships moved into position, firing tethers to the central crystal. They could not harpoon it, but they could adhere to it. The cultists checked the lines and the spells that held them fast, and then stepped back as the mechs circled the tower, their beams directed downward. The central crystal and fundamental tomb was indestructible, but the paths that led to it underground had long since weakened from age. They were easy to cut with the spells that the mechs used.
Five ponies watched this, still imprisoned in spheres of technomagic. A cultist attended them, and he watched as the work went on.
“What- -what are you doing?” asked Applejack angrily.
“Yeah,” said Pinkie Pie. “Seriously. We have no idea. We aren’t exactly from a high-technology era in history.”
“The tomb is being removed,” said the cultist. “I would assume that such would be obvious from the fact that it is clearly being removed.”
“Well, you don’t need to get snippy!” huffed Rarity. “If you treat your guests with such a level of disdain, then I have serious doubts about you cult’s standards!”
“Rarity!” hissed Rainbow Dash. “Don’t mess with the weird masked guy! He’ll sacrifice us!”
“I don’t want to be a sacrifice!” cried Fluttershy. “I- -I can’t be! I’m not right for it! Discord and I, we had a lot of cider one time, and then we went back to my cottage and- -”
“I don’t want to know!” shouted Applejack, covering her ears.
“I do,” said Rarity. The others looked at her and she cleared her throat. “But gossip later, yes. I see. First order of business is rescuing Twilight.”
“We have no intention of sacrificing you,” said the cultist. “We are not that sort of cult. We are mostly dedicated to the study of arcane knowledge and research into future technologies, toward the betterment of pony knowledge and the Empire at large.”
“Wow,” said Rainbow Dash. “Total buzzkill. That’s just about the worst description of a cult I’ve ever heard! So you just sit around and read books?”
“We do that quite often, yes.”
“Ugh.” Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “I’d rather have the sacrificing cult! Maybe tie me up on a stick, over a cool statue with flames and stuff. Some pony in a mask would say a really creepy ritual to an ancient forgotten god…” Her wings were starting to extend involuntarily. “Yeah. Just like Daring Do. That would be so epic!”
“You could consider the Cult of Celestia. I hear they are into that sort of thing.”
“We don’t care about sacrificing!” exclaimed Applejack suddenly, sounding exasperated.
“I certainly do,” said Fluttershy. “I don’t want to be tied to a stick! Or anything else for that matter!”
“Why are you doing this?” asked Applejack. “I just don’t get it! You’re supposed to be fighting for the ‘good of the Empire’- -whatever that means- -and well it just doesn’t look like you’re doing that at all to me!”
“I assure you,” said the cultist, “we are.”
“But Twilight is trying to help you,” said Rarity. “She needs to make a cure for that dreadful virus, so you won’t be sick anymore.”
“Is that what she told you?” said the cultist, turning his masked face to them. “She lied.”
“That’s a load of road-apple fritters!” swore Applejack. “Twilight wouldn’t lie to us!”
“Yeah!” Rainbow Dash pressed herself against the bubble that contained her, and her wings beat uncontrollable. “If it weren’t for this magic bubble thing, I would bop you right in the nose!”
“We abhor violence here,” said the cultist. “That is not the Cult way. But no. It is critical for the future of our kind that Twilight Sparkle must not create a cure for the Mortality Virus. Doing so would have disastrous implications. Such a course would lead to the fall of the Empire. We aim to ensure that the Empire remains eternal. Look.”
He pointed at the crystal tower. The mechs had finished their work and stepped back. As they did, the lower thrusts from the various ships began to hum with a high, almost musical sound before they moved upward, pulling the crystal with them. It shuddered and shook, but then was pulled free of the ground.
“Oh no,” said Fluttersy. “What if- -what if Twilight is still in there?!”
“If she is, somepony’s in for a world of hurt,” said Applejack.
“Twilight Sparkle would indeed be a threat, but not one we are unprepared for.”
“I wasn’t talkin’ about Twilight. I was talking about ME. I’m gonna buck you so hard you won’t be able to walk right for a MONTH!”
Pinkie Pie snorted, and Rainbow Dash burst out laughing completely.
“What are you- -” Applejack suddenly blushed when she realized what she had said. “Darn it, that wasn’t what I meant! Stop being immature, this isn’t a time for laughing! Rarity, you’ve got magic, can you cut open these bubbles?”
“I’m a fashionista, not a pair of bolt cutters,” said Rarity, offended.
“You realize I am right here,” said the cultist. “I can hear you.”
“Nobody asked you what you can and can’t hear!” snapped Applejack. She looked up at the rising crystal, which was already more than eighty feet off the ground. “We have to do something,” she said. “And if we’re gonna do it, we have to do it right quick.”
The tomb shuddered, and Twilight cried out as the floor suddenly tilted. She slid and started to fall, but Silken caught her.
“We are rising in elevation,” said Silken.
“But that’s not possible,” said Twilight. She stood up on her own and scrambled across the shifting floor. As she did, she engaged a spell that confirmed what her HUD had already told her- -that Silken was right. “There are several magical fields on the upper crystal, adhesive spells, which…oh no…”
“They are lifting us,” said Silken. “That means we have little time. How fast can you extract the genetic sample?”
“Do you have any idea how hard it is to successfully remove alicorn DNA?! I do, it’s almost impossible! The last time I did it, it took me the better part of a month!”
“We do not have a month, unless your cult has extremely low-quality vessels.”
“My Cult’s vessels are the best in the two hundred known galaxies!” said Twilight, knowing full well that the Empire contained far more galaxies than that and populated far less. “I can do it in three hours, minimum.”
“Do we have that long?”
“We don’t even have three minutes!” Twilight rushed to the door of the room.
“Where are you going?”
“I have to stop them! I have no idea what they’re trying to do, but I can’t let it happen! I need to buy us more time!”
“How!”
“I don’t know! I’ll think of something! You just stay here! Guard Cadence! I authorize you to do absolutely whatever is necessary to ensure the security of that body!” Twilight took a deep breath, and realized that her heart was racing. “The fate of all ponykind depends on it.”
Silken nodded, accepting both the order and the permission, and Twilight raced forward through what remained of the tomb. It was shaking beneath her feet, but she managed to stay stable as she galloped ahead.
The situation was almost immediately apparent. Twilight could see light pouring across the hallways, and not the sort that came from crystals. The entire tomb had been removed from the ground, cut away and excised. The lack of respect that her Cult had shown was disgusting, but also terrifying. If they were willing to go this far, Twilight knew, they must be desperate.
Twilight reached the edge quickly. Both alternate versions of herself were already waiting in an area that showed signs of having been charred and burned from an intense magic battle. Both of the shoggoths had incorporated stolen remnus and Cult gear parts into their overall structures.
Near them was the gap that led outside. In the distance, Twilight could see the canopy of the crystal forest from above, and the stormy mountains in the distance. Lightning was now striking prolifically through the clouds overhead, and the sound of thunder was intense.
“We have to stop them from taking Cadence,” said Twilight. “Are you ready?”
“Vortog…plath idena…thanthakta,” replied both of the creatures. Twilight wondered if they understood what it meant.
Twilight spread her wings, and the pair of queen shoggoths spawned their own sets of four each. Then they leapt down, diving through the air toward the stumps of trees and army of cultists below.
It only took Twilight a fraction of a second to swoop down over the hole that the tomb had left behind and land on its edge, noticing as she did so that it seemed strangely deeper than it should have. When she finally did reach the earth below, her cultists were already waiting for her. They gathered around: those that wore armor, those that stood as naked remni, and those whose brains resided within mechs. Twilight could instantly feel the spells flowing around them: each bore protection charms, and each was just one step away from completing an attack. They had come prepared for a fight, and if Twilight had been angry before, she was now enraged. These were members of her Cult; she knew many of them personally, and had taught so many of them. They had stood beside her in their search for knowledge, and she had trusted them. Now they stood ready to attack her.
“Don’t think I can’t sense those spells,” she growled, stepping toward them. They did not retreat. “How could you? You would raise your magic against me? I…how could you?” Her anger collapsed into sadness. “How could you betray me like this? Candlepower!” she looked into the optics of one of the nearest cultists. “I officiated your parents’ wedding! I held you when you were a newborn!” She turned to another cultist. “Lucifra, I taught you levitation spells!” Twilight looked up to a tall remnus. “And you, Transcendence, I held your hoof when you were dying…”
“It is only a precaution,” said Candlepower. “Please, Goddess, know that we only do this because we are in awe of your power.”
“And concerned by those who you have chosen to ally yourself with,” said another, meaning the pair of queens that stood beside Twilight, both of whom had suddenly grown surprisingly impassive.
“It’s not just that! Look!” Twilight pointed upward at the rising crystal tomb. “Look what you’re doing! Why?”
“We are complaining your mission,” said Candlepower.
“No you aren’t!” Twilight raised her voice. “I order you to put that crystal down NOW!”
“I am sorry, Goddess. We cannot do that.”
Twilight inhaled sharply. It had been one thing to hear it from a remnus, but to hear it from a cultist in full uniform- -complete with the One-and-Five on his mask- -was almost too shocking to hear. “You would disobey me?”
“No. We are obeying your orders.”
“But I just told you to put it down!”
“Your implicit orders take precedence over your explicit ones.”
“What is that even supposed to mean?!”
“Calm yourself, please. There is no need for this to be disorderly.”
“No. There isn’t. Where is Light Gloom?” The cultists did not respond. Twilight raised her voice again, roaring into the silence. “WHERE IS HE?! Don’t think I don’t know that he’s here!”
“He is on his way now. He will be pleased to see you.”
“I will tell him whether he should be pleased or not! Of all of you, HIM- -my personal student! Where is he?!”
Twilight looked through the crowd. Although she did not see Light Gloom, she did spy five technomagic bubbles with ponies trapped within them.
“High Twilight!” cried Pinkie Pie, waving.
Twilight’s jaw clenched. She turned to Candlepower and walked forward. He raised his defensive spells, and Twilight lit her horn. With one swipe, she shattered all of his protective enchantment, leaving him with nothing more than the armor he wore.
“What did you do to my friends?!”
To his credit, Candlepower kept a level head. Despite being completely vulnerable, the cadence of his speech did not change and he did not step back. “They were sealed for their own protection.”
“And freshness!” called Pinkie Pie.
“Let them out,” demanded Twilight. “Release the crystal- -gently!- -and let my friends out. I will only ask once.”
“We are not currently able to do that, Goddess.”
The cultists suddenly moved forward in unison, and Twilight was forced to retreat to the side of the pair of queens. They each let out low, somber moans and bristled with energy. They were ready to fight. They were strong, of course- -as was Twilight- -but there were at least five heavy mechs as well as over fifty cultists and remni. It would not be an easy battle.
“We will have to protect you,” said Lucifera. “It is for your own good.”
“My own beard,” swore Twilight, charging her horn. “I’m not going to back down!”
“Even if it means losing?”
“Yes,” said Twilight, without any hesitation.
The cultists prepared their spells, as did Twilight. She found great difficulty and sadness in doing it, though. These were her people; raising her magic against them in a setting like this was a travesty. It did not matter if they tried to hurt her; what made her want to weep was that she would have to hurt them- -but that would have to wait until the battle was over and Cadence’s genetic code had been recovered.
Twilight raised her horn to strike, but stopped. Something was wrong. Her eyes detected it before her mind did: a blue, translucent pony standing amongst the crowd. Twilight felt herself inhale sharply, and almost on instinct her attack spell was converted into a defensive one.
The cultists seemed to notice Starlight as well, but by then it was too late. Starlight turned to them, and her horn glimmered with ancient light. A surge of magic erupted from her entire body, shattering through the primary shields that each cultist had already directed toward Twilight. They were thrown back, their bodies arcing with magical energy as Starlight’s force impacted the runes ingrained in their armor.
Part of the blast shot out to where the technomagic spheres had trapped Twilight’s friends. The impact immediately shorted the spell, causing each of the ponies within to drop onto the ground below.
“Oh nuggets!” cried Rainbow Dash. “Celestia poke it to heck, I think I hit a stump!”
“Well get off your stump and get to work!” ordered Applejack. “Twilight needs our help!”
“I think she has plenty of help already,” said Fluttershy, pointing upward. “Look!”
High above, windigoes began to descend from the clouds. Their call filled the air, and snow and ice had followed them. They advanced forward toward the cultists, who were then forced to defend themselves from the rear as well as from Twilight. The windigoes could only seem to attack randomly, though; they seemed to have trouble directing their magic and ice directly at the cultists. The cultists took advantage of this, returning fire with dispelment charms.
“Something’s wrong,” said Applejack. “They have to pull back!”
“No,” said Rainbow Dash, looking up at the crystal overhead. “I know what they have to do. Fluttershy, on me!”
“M- -me- -?!”
Rainbow Dash tugged Fluttershy into the air. “Come on! I need your help too!”
Across the clearing, the cultists advanced on Twilight. The pair of queens that flanked her struck, injuring several in an instant. This almost immediately attracted the attention of a pair of heavy mechs, and they turned their stocky pony-like bodies toward the shoggoths. They opened fire with plasma beams, and Twilight rushed forward to cast a shield spell. It succeeded, but the strain of it knocked her back substantially.
The creatures rolled out of the way, and took defensive stances. Instead of attacking, though, they each let out a low trill. As if in response, the ground began to rumble and all at once Twilight realized why the hole beneath the tomb had looked so deep.
The queens had called, and those that they had been born to lead responded. They poured forth from the hole, their undifferentiated flesh and mechanical bodies rushing forward into the fray. Twilight heard some of the cultists scream in terror, and watched as one of the green-eyed shoggoths engaged a mech, quickly tearing one of its legs free of its body before both opened fire with plasma and lasers, tearing into each other’s armor plating.
What was supposed to have been a peaceful recovery mission had devolved into a battle. 9U?��4
Rainbow Dash shot upward, gaining speed as her wings beat faster and faster against the growing storm. The windigoes surrounded her, and the icy air was causing frost to form on Rainbow Dash’s wingtips. It was deadly cold amongst them, but Rainbow Dash controlled her breathing. She had been trained to resist all manner of atmospheric phenomena, and her new body gave her a much greater resistance to the frigid storm than she could ever have hoped.
“Hey!” she called to the windigoes. “I don’t know if you can understand me, but this way! Come this way!” She waved her hooves, and some of the windigoes understood. They galloped after her, and Rainbow Dash laughed. This day was indeed becoming more awesome than she could ever have hoped. “Follow me!” she shouted, changing her flightpath to lead the windigoes up toward the crystal overhead.
The ships were defended. They opened fire with technomagic beams arising from circles that formed on their lower surfaces. These hummed past Rainbow Dash, but she rolled and dodged, outmaneuvering them as she rushed toward one of the cables that supported the tomb.
“Cut the wires!” she screamed.
The windigoes obeyed. The wire was thin and strong, but as they each passed through it the amount of frost on the line grew thicker and thicker. Rainbow Dash had advanced nearly thirty meters when she finally doubled back and kicked the frozen spot as she passed. It shattered, and the crystal suddenly tilted as one of the supports holding it up failed.
“HA!” laughed Rainbow Dash. “That’s one- -OOP!”
A technomagic beam had nearly gone straight through her. It missed, rebounding off the crystal below. Rainbow dash looked up at the ships and saw that they had concentrated their attack.
“Fluttershy!” she called. “You’re up!”
There was no response except crying. Fluttershy passed by on the far side of the crystal, and Rainbow Dash face-hooved when she saw that Fluttershy was flying with her hooves over her eyes out of fright. It was that very fright, though, that kept her moving: a crowd of windigoes had gathered behind her, chasing her onward. Although this was literally one of her top fifty eight most horrifying nightmares, it pushed her onward at speeds that even Rainbow Dash found impressive for an out-of-shape Pegasus.
Fluttershy knew what she had to do, even if she could not see it. She charged one of the ships directly, stopping just before she met it. As horrifying as it was, she allowed the windigoes to catch up with her- -and pass her.
They rushed forward, their ectoplasmic bodies crossing into the ship. Its surface became overgrown with frost, and the technomagic below suddenly stopped firing. The vessel’s engine sputtered as ice overgrew its engines, and it suddenly started dropping.
Fluttershy peeked past her hooves and gasped. She cheered: “Yay.”
The damaged ship descended rapidly, but its adhesion to the crystal did nto fail. The tether suddenly became taught as the weight of the ship fell against it, and the sudden force tilted the crystal. Rainbow Dash’s group had already weakened two more of the five lines, and they snapped instantly. The remaining line was then left out of balance, and the force pulled the last ship downward. In order to protect itself, it cut the line internal.
The crystal, now fully released, fell back to the ground and landed with a deafening thud.
“OH YEAH!” cried Rainbow Dash. “I didn’t think it was possible, but this is EVEN BETTER than being sacrificed!”
None of the cultists were under the crystal when it fell. A few shoggoths were, but their protean bodies eventually managed to slither out from beneath it. Although it had been released, everypony on the outside remained unperturbed.
The same could not be said of Silken. While her body was certainly capable of surviving the impact, she was thrown by it and knocked around the room several times before finally settling against one of the walls.
“Protect the Lost Goddess, she said,” said Silken, sitting up and sounding mildly annoyed. “How am I supposed to do that?” She could hear the battle going on outside, and although the crystal partially attenuated her sensors, she was able to see that both sides were evenly matched. Worse, every second it went on was a greater risk of harm to Silken’s friends, and to the cultists who in other conditions she was sure would have been her friends too.
“I am not a combat unit,” she said. “I cannot do anything. I have no technomagic, and my strength is equal to theirs. If they came here, I would not be able to defend Cadence.”
She looked across the room to where Cadence had fallen off her final resting place. A morbid as that should have been, she looked quite alive, as though she had collapsed there. If anything, she looked small and vulnerable. Her hair had come undone, and the crystal flowers that her subjects had given her had shattered. As Silken watched, Cadence’s remains took a weak autonomic breath.
“Incomplete,” said Silken as an idea suddenly occurred to her. She stood up. “That is why you’ve been here so long. That is why this makes me so sad. Because you have been here so long, incomplete. Unable to help.” She looked up. “That battle. If you were here, you could help Twilight. You could help everypony.”
Silken picked up Cadence, cradling her grandmother in her long, robotic arms. Arms that would be useless in the battle she needed to fight, but that could find use here. She lifted one, and it shifted, its tip expanding into various narrow tools that had once been used for installing microcircuitry into the skeletal interfaces of starships.
“I am sorry for this, grandmother. But Twilight ordered me to protect you. The best way for me to do that is to make you whole again. I think this is what you would have wanted.”
As the battle raged outside, Silken’s face split in half and opened, revealing the central processor held within. She raised her hoof, and began the procedure.
Magic bolts and spells were flying everywhere amidst plasma weapons, lasers and windigo ice. For Twilight, this was all too familiar. She had been in so many battles not unlike this one that she had lost count long ago. She half expected the Witchlord to appear at the head of the battle, her characteristic horned helm glaring against the sun in challenge.
No such enemy arrived, though, nor could Twilight fight her own cultists as she had once raged against the hordes of revenants that Sarkon Vortrenth had once summoned against her. Even in their state of rebellion, Twilight still cared for them. That, and she needed to ensure the safety of her friends.
“Applejack! Pinkie! Fluttershy!” cried Twilight through the chaos. She engaged a scanning spell simultaneously with a full-reflection spell, causing a beam from a cultist to rebound and strike a nearby remnus in the back.
“Sorry!” called Twilight. As she did, her scanning spell picked up something. She ducked to the side and rolled underneath the body of a white shoggoth who was in the process of tearing through a heavy mech with a magical beam. On the other side, Twilight spied Pinkie Pie. She was jumping on the back of a fallen cultist.
“Take that! And that! Kick ‘em when they’re down!”
“This is not an effective way to fight!” cried the cultist. “You are not injuring me at all! It is also rude!”
“Pinkie, stop messing around!” said Applejack as she bucked the cultist in the face.
“That did not knock me out,” said the cultist as she crawled away. “It only hurt a whole lot!”
Applejack and Pinkie joined Twilight. “Where are the others?” asked Twilight in desperation.
“I’m right here,” said Rarity, bounding out of the crowd. “Oops, sorry dear, my- -did you just pinch my rump! How- -excuse me- -” She emerged, and Twilight saw that she was wearing a set of cultist robes.
“Where did you get that?”
“Well, if you are going to accuse me of looting the fallen then I’m not going to listen to you! Besides, have you seen this thread count? I didn’t even know it could get this high!”
“Rainbow and Fluttershy took down the ships with the windigoes,” said Applejack.
“I’ll get them,” said Twilight, spreading her wings. “We need to get you out of here.”
“No we don’t! We know how to fight!”
“And I think some of them might have jewelry,” said Rarity.
“No! I can’t let you get hurt! This isn’t a place for you! And that’s final!” Twilight flew into the air, barely dodging several of the winged shoggoths as they passed. They flew upward and latched onto one of the few ships that remained, tearing it apart and incorporating its pieces into their own bodies. Twilight suddenly had a better idea of what that particular set of her allies was fighting for.
Before she could get to altitude, she saw something in the distance. She looked closer, enhancing the view with her visor, and her heart fell. Swooping in from above were more ships, as well as nearly a hundred cultists sailing in on black wings of steel.
“Twilight, what is it?” cried Applejack from below.
“More of them!” replied Twilight.
“More? How many more can there be?!”
Before Twilight could answer, the air suddenly became charged with magic. For a moment, Twilight thought that it was Starlight again, but she saw Starlight: she had returned to the atmosphere to regroup her windigo forces. Besides, the magic was far more powerful than anything Starlight could ever have hoped to summon- -and it was familiar, although in a different way.
A beam shot forward from the base of the fallen crystal. The pure blue light tore through the atmosphere and struck the nearest of the approaching ships, tearing it in half and incinerating the wings of several of the cultists. As they fell, Twilight looked down toward the source of the beam and saw that a plume of energy had knocked back every individual standing in a wide swath, not differentiating between friend or foe.
What Twilight saw, she could not comprehend. There, standing in the epicenter of the blast and still sparking, stood an unmistakable alicorn. There was no ambiguity in her identity, and Twilight stared in shock as she stared at the impossible.
She quickly shot forward and landed near the alicorn. The whole of the battle suddenly seemed to grow quiet in comparison as their eyes met.
“C…cadence?”
“Not quite,” said Cadence. She tried to take a step forward and nearly fell over. She did not seem to know how to walk. “Oop. These organic bodies, how do you control them? There is so much feedback!” She looked up at the sky. “And the horn…that is entirely new to me. I think I may have put too much power through it.”
Twilight’s eyes widened with a mixture of rage and surprise. It was only then that she noticed the thin surgical scar near Cadence’s hairline- -or the pony that had once been Cadence.
“SILKEN!” she cried.
Silken smiled. “Yes. Yes I am.”
“You- -you- -what- -how- -DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW WRONG THIS IS?!”
“I am only following your orders,” protested Silken, frowning and seeming to enjoy the fact that Cadence’s face gave her far more options for facial features than her original did. “You said to protect this body. The best way for me to protect it was to integrate my central processor into it.”
“But you- -you can’t do that! That isn’t what I meant!”
“Well, I certainly will not lose track of it.” A cultist charged from the side, and Silken effortlessly raised a shield bubble that he slammed against harmlessly. “And I now have the power to defend you and the others!” She spread Cadence’s wings. “Do these work, or are they decorative?”
“Of course they work but- -Silken- -”
Silken walked awkwardly to Twilight’ side, improving with every step. She put her hoof on Twilight’s shoulder and smiled. It was Cadence’s smile, but it was also genuine. That would not have been possible unless Silken was smiling too. “There was nothing left of her in this body,” she said. “And I know she would have wanted to help you. Do not worry. Trust me. I will keep her safe.”
Twilight looked up at her, into the large eyes that she had never thought she would see opened again. Then she hugged Cadence, and Silken. “I trust you,” she said. “Go ahead.”
Silken lowered the shield she had projected, and Twilight stood beside her as the pair of them walked into the fray. With the combined strength of two pure alicorns- -even if one of them had the brain of a remnus- -they pushed through easily. Silken quickly gained an understanding of how to use Cadence’s horn, and although her spells were limited they were unparalleled in power. She managed a combination of defensive shielding and simple offense, giving Twilight time to formulate more complex spells.
“This is so wrong,” said Twilight, sending out a chain of stunning spells that arced through eight cultists and incapacitated two. “This is just so wrong.”
“I like it,” said Silken. “It feels…natural. I’ve missed having an organic body.”
“Well don’t get too attached to it.” Twilight sent out another barrage that caused crystal vines to shoot from the ground and entrap several remni.
“I believe I am literally attached to it,” said Silken.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do. I am only inhabiting it in the name of protecting you, and Cadence’s descendants. I understand that this state will not be permanent.” She lowered her horn and sent a tremendous blast of blue light into a crowd that was attempting to shoot down a group of windigoes. They were knocked back, but although they were unharmed they did not attempt to fire toward the sky again.
“I don’t even know how this is possible!” said Twilight. “Cadence’s powers are derived by love, a remnus shouldn’t be able to- -”
“To feel love? Twilight Sparkle, of course we feel love. It is the main reason why so few of us survive.”
Twilight did not ask what that meant, because she was pretty sure she already knew.
“I am going to try something,” said Silken, looking toward one of the heavy mechs. “Do you think you can handle yourself here?”
“Why? What are you going to do?”
Silken smiled- -her smile looked so much like Cadence’s, but a little different- -and her horn sparked. She took a step forward, and space ripped around her. In a flash of blue light, she vanished. Twilight was only confused until she heard the sound of an explosion near the mech, and saw Silken standing over it in Cadence’s body, tearing through its metal flesh with ease. She had teleported. Without an organic brain, it seemed, she was capable of moving through the planet’s interference without harm.
Her ability surprised even Twilight. Cadence had never been able to perform that spell, and yet Silken had using the same magic. As odd as that was, Twilight found her confidence in Silken’s ability to protect her precious cargo increasing.
With her confidence restored, Twilight turned her attention toward her former followers. Although she could not teleport in Equestrstria’s atmosphere like Silken could, there were a number of other spells she knew, and she had always wondered just how good her cult’s armor truly was.
High in the atmosphere, Phosphorescence and Luminescence looked down through their shared sensors at the battle below. Each stood on opposite sides of the bridge that they had now reconfigured to their own will. It had become angular and dark, with power conduits exposed to provide a sickly green glow. While it would not have been Light Gloom’s preferred style, they had taken the initiative to choose one that suited both of them equally well.
Each sister wore a thin, silver chain. These chains were attached to the pair of collars that Heliotrope and Golden Star wore. They were unable to pull themselves free, and despite the lack of technomagic holding them there was no way either of them could physically oppose the heavily armored cultists. They were left to lie on the cold metal floor, watching. Fate had at least been more kind to them than it had been to Journey End: her processor had been stripped from her body and placed in storage for her “crimes” against Princess Twilight.
Both of the chained ponies grew increasingly despondent, to the point where they were unable to look at each other. Golden Star had already given up completely, and Heliotrope’s resolve was withering as well. There was nothing that either of them were able to do.
“I am losing vital signs on Vast Six,” said Luminescence. She paused. “She has been forced to eject her central core. Vital signs have flatlined.”
“The situation grows dire,” replied Phosphorescence. She showed no sign of emotion, aside from mild annoyance.
“Our intervention could turn the battle in the favor of the Will of the Goddess.”
“Agreed. Would Light Gloom sanction our plan?”
“He cannot be discerned on our sensors. We will therefore extrapolate his intentions.”
“Confirmed.”
The ship suddenly lurched. Heliotrope was young, older than Golden Star and far older than Inky Nebula had been. She had been involved in enough mission to know the subtle cues of a ship beginning descent.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
Neither of the sisters answered, electing to ignore their pet despite the fact that they had baited her by speaking instead of using their hardwired communication channel. It was obvious that they intended to humiliate their captives, and the plan was working.
“Should we proceed without inertial suppression?” asked Phosphorescence, a tone of viciousness in her voice. Golden Star could not help but gasp as his eyes widened, betraying his fear.
“I oppose this idea,” said Luminescence. “I would prefer to keep our pets with their skeletons competent. I intend for mine to last quite some time.”
“Interesting,” said Phosphorescence. “Without the High Priest, we do not have a way to break deadlocks.”
“This is not a new problem. Nor is it a relevant one.”
Phosphorescence sighed. “Technically correct, although I find you to be something of a killjoy, sister.”
“And I find you to be more sadistic than befits somepony of our station.”
The ponies on the ground could not tell if this exchange was meant to be serious, or if the pair were partaking in a kind of joke. It did become more clear that the ship was descending, though. Both understood that there was a fight occurring between the Cult and the Goddess, and that the presence of the paired starships would bias the battle unequivocally toward one side.
“We have to do something,” hissed Heliotrope.
“There is not anything we can do,” replied Golden Star, who was on the verge of sobbing.
During this exchange, the heavy metal door that sealed off the bridge from any potential intruders slid open. The ponies looked, hoping to see a familiar face that would aid them. Their hopes were dashed instantly as a pair of cult remni entered the bridge.
They were identical to all other cult remni: the same black surface, manipulated slightly to emphasize the fact that their bodies were cold and hard, like armor; the same white faces with the same tiny pupils; the same disinterested smile. The only difference was their height, and even then that was only trivial. One of them was slightly taller, and bore a rank denoted by three red lines. The other wore one thin violet line on her right shoulder. Both wore the mark of Twilight Sparkle on the left.
The pair moved in unison, separating in the center of the room so that each one could stand next to the cultists. Their goal, it seemed, was to preserve the symmetry Phosphorescence and Luminescence had so carefully cultivated in the room.
“You have caused the ship to descent,” said the red-denoted remnus.
“We have been dispatched to provide processing assistance,” said the other.
“And to protect you in the event that we will be boarded.”
“We will not be boarded,” said Phosphorescence. She sounded as though she had been insulted. “We will deploy the remaining cultists to cover ourselves. I will take command personally.”
“Although processing assistance would be welcome,” said Luminescence. “With the power so low, we will be forced to perform the operation manually.”
“Of course,” said the remnus with three lines. She bowed softly and gracefully.
Then the pair moved in unison. Their speed was incredible, and far faster than anything an organic pony could have hoped to achieve. With their attention distracted, the pair of cultists did not realize what was happening until it was too late.
The remni summoned simultaneous technomagic spells. Of the two twins, Luminescence was the only one able to raise a shield spell in time. It did not matter, though; the spells that the pair of remni had created would have been unable to penetrate the cultists’ enchanted armor anyway.
Instead, they forced stun spells directly into the computer systems that linked to each cultist’s brain. That part of them was by definition unprotected, and the force of the magic flowed instantly through the wires that linked them to the ship and directly into their brains. Luminescence and Phosphorescence convulsed suddenly, and the latter let out a thin cry. Then they slumped forward, their still-smoking connections tearing away as they collapsed into a pair of heaps.
The larger remnus stood over one of the pair, scanning her. To her dismay, her hypothesis about their nature was confirmed. In any event, the vital signs of the pair had been fully suspended, but they were alive and would most likely recover in time. They had, however, been rendered completely unconscious.
“Idiots,” said the red-marked remnus, kicking Luminescence in the gut. “Did they think I would not remember how the interfaces work? They didn’t even shield the cables. Absolute morons…”
She walked past the fallen ponies. The smaller remnus moved in her wake, pausing to break both chains with a blow from her pointed metal hoof. The two captives were freed, and the remnus extended her hoof to Golden Star. He paused, afraid, but then took it. She helped him stand.
“Did they injure you?”
“No,” he said. He looked into her large eyes, and her tiny blue pupils stared back at him without blinking.
“I…I know you,” he said.
The remnus smiled, and for some reason Golden Star shivered. “My name is Moonrise,” she said. “But in life, you knew me as Inky Nebula.”
Golden Star’s eyes widened, and Heliotrope gasped.
“No…Nebula…”
“Heliotrope. It is good to see you again. It is good to see you both. I am very happy.”
“But you were so young!”
“I was,” said Moonrise, “but I do not think my sacrifice was without purpose. I do not think either of our sacrifices were.”
Moonrise looked to the other remnus, and the pair’s eyes followed her gaze. As they did, they saw the expression on the red-lined remnus’s face, and they suddenly understood who she was.
“Captain?” they both said in disbelief.
“Who else would I be?” She pointed to herself. “This color scheme is terrible, but I look good even as a machine, don’t I?”
“I certainly think so,” said Moonrise, walking to her side.
“And I have a new name. Horizon Edge. I like it.” She paused. “It’s good to have a name again, and it’s good to be able to walk. I had forgotten what both felt like. And it’s good to see you two again.”
Edge closed her eyes, and the rear armor of her neck retracted like liquid, revealing the spinal interface beneath. A set of luminescent violet cables drifted upward. As they did, a different set of blue cables descended from above. The others realized that she was standing where Light Gloom had stood before, in the location that had once been hers.
“Being like this doesn’t change my opinions,” she said. “I don’t think it ever did. Most of that stuff remni tell you? It’s all lies. I don’t know if the arrogant fools thought changing my body would somehow make me loyal, because it didn’t. I’m taking my ship back.”
“Captain?”
“Well?” said the captain, her narrow pupils looking at them all and somehow conveying annoyance. “Why are you not at your stations? Or are you forfeiting your commissions?”
“My sensory uplink is loaded,” said Moonrise. Technomagic panels and readouts formed around her body, displaying mathematics that shifted so fast that it was mindboggling to the living ponies.
“See? She’s dead, and she’s showing more life than both of you! Get to work or get off my bridge!”
As she said it, the bridge began to reform. What had become angular became curved, and what had been black or metal dissolved into clean white morphiplasm. Elsewhere, the ship once again began reconfiguring itself. This time, it shifted toward the N689. Horizon Edge had an understanding of its structure, and its nature. She was a machine, and one with the machine that she had been born to pilot. Together, the other ship was no match. She consumed it.
The two pony officers smiled and stood at attention. “As are your orders, captain Edge,” they said before separating and taking their places on the newly reformed bridge.
“Your orders, captain?” said Moonrise, looking upward at Horizon Edge. Horizon Edge returned her stare, and although they both had identical artificial eyes a sentiment passed between them, and they both understood- -and both smiled.
“You stay right at my side, Moonrise,” said the captain, “and don’t even think about leaving it. I’m not changing their coordinates. I’ll use what power the ship has left and bring it to Twilight Sparkle. If she hasn’t gone to that traitor’s side, then I promise you all that I am going to give her the very best day ever- -and repay what Light Gloom did to me tenfold, at least.”
The others remained silent, because no words were required. They each knew how genuine her oath was, and mentally, each one shared it in kind.
The state of the battle devolved rapidly. The cultists had regrouped and redoubled their effort, but their goal had gone from attacking Cadence’s body to survival alone. Their fight had become far more challenging now that Cadence’s remains could fight them back, and Silken’s synthetic brain was incapable of fatigue. Twilight, likewise, had fully recovered her ability to use magic; even alone, she would have been a force to recon with.
Whether or not they were winning, though, was still in dispute. Twilight knew that she had no viable goal, but she kept it to herself. Mostly, it was now to defend Cadence’s body, but the situation had decayed dangerously. If she was now in a state of all-out war with her Cult, then there was no way she would be able to get back to her ship. Having Cadence animate solved the problem of having to extract a genetic sample- -Twilight could take the whole body with her- -but she still needed to get it back to her lab on Dusk in order to generate the solution to the Mortality Virus. Without a ship, that was impossible.
Then, all at once, the battle seemed to shift. A shudder crossed through the cultists, and they all suddenly changed tactics, moving as though they were coordinated not by individual panic but by one unifying voice. They broke away from their attacks, retreating and separating from their opponents. The windigoes did not pursue, and it had never been the shoggoths intention to pursue. Instead, they began picking the pieces of the battlefield for resources.
Applejack had been standing near Twilight, doing her best to try to kick cultists in the knees. She watched the retreat, uncertain.
“Yeah, you better run!” cried Rainbow Dash, descending from overhead and landing near Applejack. Silken, likewise, teleported to Twilight’s right. A perfunctory look around the scene revealed the fact that Twilight’s other friends were still intact. Starlight’s ghostly form was not far away, a wraith slowly crossing the more empty portions of the battlefield and watching intently with luminescent eyes. Pinkie Pie was bouncing across the wastes at a similar distance, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings and toting a heavy mounted railgun that had been relabeled as a “party cannon”. Fluttershy was cowering under the eve of one of the crashed ship, along with several spider-like machines that Twilight recognized as ejected mech cores. Rarity was not far from Fluttershy, standing under the protection of an exceedingly well-dressed Cult remnus.
“Ha!” said Applejack. “We licked ‘em!”
“Eew!” cried Rainbow Dash, looking disgusted. “Why would you do THAT?”
“It means we beat ‘em. As in, we won.”
“Oh.”
“We didn’t win,” said Twilight. “They’re not retreating.”
She had already guessed their intentions because she knew them, and as she watched the group split and confirmed what she already knew. From the center of them stepped three figures. The one in the center was Light Gloom. On his right stood a tall but strangely stocky mare in heavy Cult armor; on his left walked the remnus Corona Fade, whose unblinking mechanical eyes did not once turn away from Twilight.
They were not far, and when Light Gloom spoke Twilight could hear him clearly. His voice rang clear and loud, but at the same time she heard it transmitted to the implants in her brain by the channel that linked them all.
“What is this?” he demanded, his optics turning independently toward the members of his Cult, who bowed their heads to him. “A battle? A FIGHT? So I see we have devolved into barbarians then. Have we become the Cult of the Holy Mother? To behave this way in the presence of the Goddess herself! We are not soldiers! We are scholars!”
“Light Gloom!” roared Twilight, stepping forward to meet him. Her friends followed her- -although slowly- -and when Twilight stopped ten meters from Light Gloom and his lieutenants, they stopped too.
“Oh my,” said Rarity, her eyes wide. “He certainly is taller than I expected…”
Twilight ignored her. She instead did not take her eyes off her former student. He had not assumed a defensive posture- -or any posture at all- -but Twilight knew better than to assume he was not planning something. Compared to her, he was a child, but he was a child who knew more than enough to be lethal if he so chose.
“Please accept my apologies, Goddess,” said Light Gloom, bowing. Corona Fade did as well, although the large mare did not. “Please forgive us. Our intention was to handle this situation as peacefully as possible.”
“Don’t lie to me, Light Gloom. Not you. You tried to use a dimensional hammer on this planet. Do you even realize the significance of that?”
“I spent a lifetime creating the schematics, researching the device. I found fragments, records that you thought you had destroyed. It is my understanding that you created the first dimensional hammer to defend Equestria. I used it to the same end. Or attempted to.”
“You tried to blow up the planet! With my friends on it!”
“And with you on it. Yes.”
“We gave you the option to leave,” said Corona Fade. “And fair, advanced warning.”
“She does have a point,” said Rarity.
“No she doesn’t!” protested Twilight. She took a step forward. Light Gloom did not step back. “You attacked me! More than once! And you’re not even supposed to be here!”
“You should have taken us with you instead of relying on the Royal Navy.”
“Is that what this is about? You were jealous I didn’t take you? I specifically chose not to. There are things I left on this planet for a reason, things that no pony is supposed to find. If the Cult were to find them, you couldn’t help yourselves you would…” Twilight paused, feeling a strange dread coming over her. “…but you never attempted to recover any artifacts. Or to perform a single study…”
“Much to our regret, you can be sure,” said Light Gloom. “And no. We were not jealous. We have a mission.”
“Which is?”
“The Mortality Virus.”
“Road apples!” swore Applejack, leaping forward.
“Applejack- -”
“No, I’m not just gonna’ stand here and listen to that skinny weirdo yammer on in circles!” She turned to Light Gloom. “I know a thing or two about lyin’, and I can tell that you’re doing an awful lot of that right now.”
“I assure you, miss, I am not.”
“There! You did it again! Because I know for a fact that TWILIGHT’S mission was to find a cure!”
“Yeah!” said Rainbow Dash, jumping forward. “And all you’ve been doing is trying to stop her!”
Light Gloom paused for a moment. “Is that what she told you?”
“Well, of course, because- -” Applejack looked confused, and then looked to Twilight. The instant their eyes met, Applejack knew.
“No,” said Light Gloom, sensing exactly what Applejack was thinking. “She did not lie to you. Not outright. But she bent the truth, the to the point where it is hardly recognizable. Tell me. Did she tell you where the Mortality Virus came from?”
The ponies looked to Twilight. Twilight did not change her expression, and she kept staring at Light Gloom. She had wished that this particular subject would never come up, but some part of her had always known that it would eventually.
“No,” said Twilight curtly. “I did not tell them. Because they do not need to know.”
“Because you did not want them to know that it was your own creation.”
The ponies gasped in unison, save for Silken. Her reaction was by far the most painful. She just looked disappointed- -even though it appeared that she already knew. On some unconscious level, it was possible all remni did.
“Twilight!” said Rarity. “She has to be lying.”
“Yeah!” yelled Pinkie Pie. “Twilight would never- -”
“He is not lying,” said Twilight without a trace of emotion. “The virus was indeed my creation.”
The air hung in silence. What had once been a roaring battle was now empty, save for the sound of a thin and distant wind. Twilight felt the eyes of many on her: friends, allies, those in between- -and it was clear that most either already knew, or had never cared. But the look in five of those sets of eyes carried far more weight than the hundreds of others who looked on in silence.
“But…but why?”
Twilight did not look at any of them. “Because our species was dying. I witnessed its evolution, and I saw ponies rise above their limitations into a Golden Age- -and then I watched as they started to decline.” Twilight sighed. “I saw evolution fail us. Ponies were once strong, and powerful…but those traits were selected against by our lifestyle. Life in space left ponies frail, weak, without magic. Genetic diseases began to form.”
“But the virus makes people sick,” said Applejack. “I’m just a simple farmfilly, but even I know that.”
Fluttershy had approached, holding one of the ejected cores tightly. “Unless something went wrong.”
“It did,” said Twilight. She was still maintaining her neutral expression and tone, even though inside her heart felt like it was burning. “The ‘virus’ is a piece of my own genetic code. A fragment of a pure alicorn. But I wasn’t genetically close enough. I introduced it into the population with the hopes of helping them…but I didn’t foresee what it would do to them.”
“You created mortality,” said the mare that stood next to Light Gloom.
“What you did was not wrong.” Light Gloom, taking a long step forward and meeting Twilight in the center of the two groups. “In a moral sense, at least. Any of us here would have tried to do the same. To save us, and to allow ourselves to progress to the next stage of evolution.”
“Then you are fools.”
“That may be,” said Corona Fade, “but we are attempting to prevent you from making another mistake.”
“The virus is untreatable,” said Light Gloom.
“You’re lying.”
“I’ve done the studies, Twilight.” A tinge of emotion had crept into Light Gloom’s voice. Twilight was not sure what it was, exactly. “The virus has intercalated itself into our genetic code. It worked exactly as you intended. Our genes were removed, replaced with yours. It cannot be removed. To do so would be fatal.” He paused, and then seemed to address the other ponies. “Your friend is a noble and great pony, but her intention was never to cure the virus, as it cannot be cured. The very thing that makes us mortal is what keeps us alive.”
“Then what is this body for?” asked Silken.
“To create a new race. A race of immortals.”
Silken looked to Twilight, and Twilight could not bring herself to look back.
“I hesitate to make demands of you, Goddess,” said Light Gloom. “But I’m afraid I have to.” He raised an armored hoof toward Silken. “Give us that body. We will dispose of it. The remnus brain within will be preserved and given a new, proper body instead of this morbid parody.”
“And us?” asked Fluttershy. “What would you do to us?”
“Nothing at all. You are of no consequence to me, although I do find you intriguing. Especially the white unicorn. We could perhaps be friends one day, if you could forgive my actions. Now that I have seen you in the flesh, I can confirm that you will not affect the Will of the Goddess. You will be allowed to live freely in our Empire with the Goddess, if she so chooses.”
“You seem awfully reasonable for a villain,” said Pinkie Pie.
“Because I am not a villain. And before you ask, I am also not insane.”
“Then you are a hero?” said Twilight, darkly.
“No. Of course not. To be such would be against your teachings. You know me, Twilight. Better than anypony, I think. You know that I am not interested in glory. I do not mind that history will, in time, forget me. But the Empire must persist, and the Will of the Goddess must be answered. Please. Give me that body.”
Twilight sighed, and then looked at her friends one by one until she met Silken. “Well?” she said.
“Well what?” Silken smiled, although it was a sad smile. “It is not my decision to make, I am afraid. If I could, I would choose for you, but I am afraid that this is your choice.”
Twilight stared up at her for a moment, and then looked across the gap to Light Gloom. “I can’t let you take her.”
“You do not have a choice.”
Applejack pushed past Twilight. “I think she does,” she said. “And I think she just made it.”
“Applejack…”
“Yeah!” said Rainbow Dash. “Who do you think you are? You can’t talk to her like that!”
“Worst High Priest ever!” shouted Pinkie Pie.
“I do agree that your request was indeed reasonable,” said Rarity. “And I am flattered by the fact that you find me…ahem… ‘intreguing’, but Twilight has made her choice. A gentlecolt like you ought to respect it.”
“Yeah,” whispered Fluttershy.
“Guys,” said Twilight. “Even after…”
“Don’t care what you did,” said Applejack. “Frankly, I don’t understand it anyway.”
“We all make mistakes, Darling,” said Rarity.
“Yeah!” said Pinkie. “Though, granted, we don’t usually make ones that doom an entire race of ponies to slow decay to an eventual state of complete and utter depopulation that will leave you alone in a dark and empty universe…well, with Celestia and Luna I guess, but otherwise empty…”
Pinkie realized that the others were glaring at her. “Eh heh heh…sorry. Not helping, am I?”
“Then we are at an impasse,” said Light Gloom. “I had hoped not to resort to violence. Please, Twilight Sparkle. I will make one last plea: do not force my hoof.”
“I’m pretty sure we have you outnumbered,” said Rainbow Dash.
Light Gloom looked at her, his optics narrowing. “As I have stated. I am not a barbarian. Open battle is trite and uncivilized, not worthy of the Goddess or her Cult.” His masked face slowly turned toward Twilight. “If we must settle this with force, we will do so in the custom of our mutual ancestors, the unicorns of old.”
“You’re challenging me to a duel,” said Twilight, somewhat incredulous.
Light Gloom nodded. “It was you who taught me our ancient customs and etiquette, was it not?”
“In an academic sense! I never expected you to actually try to use them! I mean, I’m a living god! You might actually be insane…”
“I am not. Are you forfeiting?”
“No. I will accept, as long as you know that you might not come out in once piece.”
“It would not be the first time. And although I cannot compare myself to you, do not disparage your ability to teach. My greatest honor, after all, was to have once been your student.”
“Then I accept.”
“Thank you,” said Light Gloom, bowing deeply. “It I may be candid, this has been a dream of mine since I was a colt.”
The large mare and Corona Fade departed from Light Gloom. Light Gloom removed his coat, revealing the asymmetrical and strange armor he wore underneath. It was covered with intricate runes and thin robotic limbs that were imbedded into his spine. Somehow, he suddenly looked much taller.
The cultists stepped back. They understood what was to happen, and that they were not to take part but only to observe. The windigoes seemed to know this as well, and they had retreated largely to the sky overhead, leaving only their glowing eyes visible. Only Starlight and several of her warrior-mages remained on the ground, near the pair of queen shoggoths. The remaining shoggoths had already started to pull their spoils back underground; many of them had departed.
“Twilight,” said Fluttershy, nervously. “What did you just agree to?”
“A duel,” said Twilight as she removed her aetherite jewelry. She had intended to throw it away- -she could always make more- -but instead gave it to Rarity, who seemed greatly appreciated to be tasked with keeping it safe.
“So cool,” whispered Rainbow Dash.
“There’s nothing cool about a duel,” said Applejack.
“Ha!” said Pinkie Pie. “You- -”
“I know darn well I rhymed, Pinkie, and it doesn’t matter one hoot! Twilight, this isn’t going to solve anything- -”
“Light Gloom and I have a...well, a close relationship,” said Twilight. “If this is what it takes to make sure no pony here gets hurt, then I’m fine with it. But you have to follow the rules.” Her eyes passed over her friends. “None of you can interfere. Not once.”
“Can we cheer?” asked Fluttershy.
“Sure,” said Twilight. “Although I probably won’t hear you.” She paused. “But it would help.”
“You said this was going to be easy,” said Rarity.
“Of course it’s going to be easy!” said Rainbow Dash.
“No. Not against him.” Twilight turned to Silken. “Do you understand me?”
Silken smiled. “Of course I do, Goddess. I personally recommend against this course of action, but you already accepted his invitation. It would be rude to refuse to dance now.”
Twilight found that metaphor odd, but did not protest its use. She allowed Silken and Rarity’s well-dressed friend to take her friends back to where the cultists stood. Whereas before the sides had been fighting, they now stood side-by side. The duty of the battle had been transferred to the leaders of either side. It had been so in ancient times long before Twilight was born, and even before the time of Starswirl the Bearded. Now, at the far edge of time and of pony civilization, the tradition would persist once more.
The pair of ponies met and spaced themselves exactly twenty one paces from one another. They stared at each other for a moment, and then bowed to one another. With their heads still lowered, Applejack lost her grip on Pinkie Pie. She shot upward and screamed to the crowd: “WIZARD FIGHT!!”
With that, the duel commenced. There was no pause. Light Gloom had already prepared his spell mentally and had constructed a miniaturized version of a warp field. He instantly shot forward at several times the speed of sound toward Twilight.
It was indeed a logical plan of attack, and would have made sense if he was facing another pony who used technomagic. The type of spells that technomagic accomplished were assisted by onboard computers, and had an innate delay. It was generally minute or even trivial, but enough that a single rapid strike would be enough to breach an opponent’s defenses before she even had a chance to raise them.
Such was not the case with Twilight, though. Her magic was organic in nature, and did not have a delay associated with its deployment. Twilight responded effortlessly, summoning a number of thin pink-violet columns in Light Gloom’s path. In a bold move, Light Gloom parried, using the impetus he gained off his body slamming into the columns to change direction. The sudden impact against Twilight’s spell resulted in a feedback surge that knocked her off balance.
Now crossing past, Light Gloom summoned several calculation panels and produced a barrage orange projectiles that moved with bizarre and unpredictable trajectories. Or, at least, they would have been bizarre had Twilight not perceived the mathematical root behind them and determined their location. Rather than forming an outright shield- -the type of spell that Light Gloom’s offense had been specifically designed to penetrate- -Twilight absorbed the tail end of the feedback from her failed defensive spell and converted it to a counterspell, performing the interception calculation against Light Gloom’s spell in her head.
The spells met and counteracted one another, annihilating themselves at various points in the interim. There was no feedback against either pony, and they stopped for a moment, pausing. In ancient times, this would have been a place to insert wizardly banter. That was a relic of times when spells took minutes to cast, though, when sorcerers would try to unbalance one another with words instead of magic. In the modern age, neither a god nor a computer-assisted cyborg needed more than milliseconds to recharge before their next cast.
Light Gloom moved forward again, this time relying on his armor’s power assist rather than a distinct spell. As he did, he summoned an orange blade, swirling it around himself in preparation to strike. Twilight, though, was not a fool; in terms of physical strength and speed, Light Gloom far outmatched her. Striking at melee distance would be idiocy, and Light Gloom was no doubt feinting while he prepared a more substantial spell.
Twilight decided to act as he intended her to, if only to see where he was going with this line of reasoning. She fired several bolts of energy, although not strictly destructive ones. They were meant to contain him. This was of course difficult in its own right; the runes he wore made manipulating him challenging without an extremely advanced compensatory formula.
The runes were not Light Gloom’s only defense. He had a counterspell prepared, and rather than annihilating Twilight’s spell entirely he reversed its adhesive nature. He slipped forward, bringing the blade over his head as if to strike. Twilight did not fall for it; she opened a circular heavy shield in time to deflect a forward beam cast from Light Gloom’s body.
The spell was substantially more powerful than Twilight had expected. It was apparent that Light Gloom had paid attention to all of her teachings, and not just those on ancient dueling practices: he had rebuilt his own implants to a unique design, one far more advanced than even the sort commonly found in other members of the Cult. His processing was faster, and his output was much greater.
His spell would have shattered Twilight’s shield, and she was forced to be creative with the counter. Rather than reinforce the shield and risk debilitating feedback, she destabilized it entirely. The resulting unstable structure of the shield spell reacted violently with Light Gloom’s spell, detonating in the air between them.
The result was not ideal. Both ponies were forced back, but Light Gloom was heavily armored. The explosion did little to him, while it knocked Twilight’s breath away and left her with several internal injuries.
Twilight did her best to land gracefully, although she tripped over one of the crystal stumps and nearly fell.
“Come on, Twilight!” cried a voice from the crowd. It was Pinkie Pie’s.
“You can do it!” said Fluttershy very quietly.
Twilight took their cheering to heart, and braced herself. Light Gloom approached her again, moving between the stumps on the ground with surprising grace. That was Twilight’s chance.
She fired a beam. Light Gloom produced a frontal shield, but Twilight had not been targeting him. The beam instead struck one of the crystal stumps and split into several intense pink-violet beams. Several of them were deflected into Light Gloom’s side and pitted into his armor. They did not penetrate, but they were not meant to. Twilight had optimized the spell for knockback.
Light Gloom stumbled to the side, and Twilight spread her wings. With one swift downward stroke, she slid herself through the air forward and upward, magically enhancing her body as she did. With one swift kick, she bucked Light Gloom in the face. She felt some of the more sensitive optics in his mask shatter under her hoof.
She then leapt down before he could strike at her with his power-assisted front hooves. As she did, she spit in his face, transfiguring her saliva into a sticky black tar-like substance with a secondary spell. It struck Light Gloom’s face and spread out across the remainder of his optics, blinding him.
“What?” he cried, stepping back. “Twilight! I never expected such a nontraditional maneuver from you!”
“And I thought I taught you that we fight duels nude,” said Twilight. “Clothes are ALWAYS a disadvantage in a fight like this!”
“Really? I disagree with that statement.”
Twilight struck out with a fine blade of light. She did not know how much of Light Gloom’s body was cybernetic, but she desperately hoped that he had replaced at least his front two legs. Her aim had been to cut him down while he could not see, and had created her spell to compensate against eighty seven of the most common shield morphologies. It was supposed to be a checkmate, but instead of being cut Light Gloom jumped back. Twilight had not expected this; she assumed that he had created a secondary perception spell to counteract his loss of vision.
He began to move backward rapidly before turning and running outright. This, Twilight knew, was a false retreat. She found it odd that Light Gloom would deploy one in this situation; it was normally used to lead an overzealous opponent into a trap. Light Gloom would have known that Twilight would also know that. The alternate explanation was that he was preparing a range attack with a wide effect. The uncertainty put Twilight into an odd position; she could neither pursue too closely or stay still. Instead, she was forced to follow by flying at a cautious distance and attempt to strike with a strafing barrage from above.
Light Gloom managed to dodge several of the attacks, but he absorbed several. The amount of magical force he absorbed was not trivial, and a lesser pony would have at least slowed but more likely have been knocked down entirely. Light Gloom, however, persisted until he reached the smoldering remains of a damaged mech.
Twilight initially suspected that he was heading for cover. In an instant, though, she knew that she had badly miscalculated. The instant Light Gloom struck the scrap robotics, a spell ignited around him. Technomagic reached out from every angle, adhering to parts and severing them from the debris. They were pulled inward and assembled: those that could be connected were welded and fused using magic, and those that could not be found were replaced with technomagic constructs.
In a fraction of a second, Light Gloom had vanished behind a hulking suit of armor. It took a step forward, powered by internal robotics, and the magic that surrounded it began to cut Light Gloom’s personal rune architecture into its surface.
“So,” she said. “You still think clothing is a disadvantage?”
Twilight could not help but smile, and feel a pang of pride. This was astoundingly unorthodox, but the creativity of the maneuver matched Light Gloom perfectly. Even the other cultists seemed to be impressed by it, and Twilight could not help but find herself being glad that they were getting some level of education out of it.
Light Gloom charged forward, firing into the air with a combination of magic and the laser weapons that he had grafted into his exosuit. Twilight felt one of the beams singe her wing, and as much as it smarted the wound was not substantial. She dropped to the ground and rolled to the side, avoiding several magical surges. It seemed that creating the armor and maintaining both its internal power supply and the construct parts of it was affecting both Light Gloom’s processing power and output. His spells had become more simplistic.
He charged quickly, trying to crush Twilight under his metal-clad hooves. Twilight managed to dodge, but only barely. As she did, she cast a spell around herself, forming herself a suit of massless magical armor. Light Gloom pivoted suddenly and struck her; because of the armor, though, she was only thrown back.
Before she had even landed, Twilight engaged the next spell. She felt herself vibrate and shiver, and then suddenly an entire group of her appeared around Light Gloom.
“I know that one!” cried Pinkie Pie. “I’ve DONE that one!”
The horde of Twilight’s leapt onto Light Gloom. He attacked in turn, attempting to destroy the replicas and extract the real one. In truth, though, there were no replicas; they were all the same Twilight, oscillating at an incredible speed. Cross the field, Starlight Glimmer smiled. It was a spell that she had known long ago as well, even before Twilight had.
In his confusion, Light Gloom did not notice that one Twilight had climbed onto his back. The armor was too thick for him to feel her light alicorn body, and he did not notice as she began reconfiguring the internal systems of part of an independent power cell he had picked up.
Eventually, though, his perception charm kicked in. A laser turret reversed suddenly and shot Twilight in the face. She shielded herself, but the beam had been cursed with a secondary magical element. A sharp pain went through her face as she was blinded.
Twilight cried out and felt herself bounce several times across the ground. As she did, she heard several heavy hoofsteps approaching her- -but Light Gloom never reached her. Twilight ducked, covering her head, and felt an explosion wash over her. The blast caught her wings and tilted her over and over again before dropping her hard against the cold ground.
She had received several injuries, one of them magical. Focusing, though, she stood. Any other pony would have been permanently blinded, but her alicorn body was already regenerating. The world was coming back into focus, but slowly. What little sight she had was blurry and dim.
Light Gloom’s mech armor had been completely ruined, but he himself was still functional. Twilight watched as he awkwardly wrenched himself free of the burning and radioactive metal. It was apparent even with her impaired vision that he had been badly injured. One of his front legs had been removed entirely, revealing a partial metal bone. Charred fragments of the limb’s cybernetics hung down uselessly.
“I should have acquiesced to your wisdom,” he said, limping forward. Unlike Twilight, his body would not regenerate, at least not quickly. While one of his front legs had been almost completely removed, it was also clear that one of his rear ones had suffered an injury as well. He was attempting to compensate for it with technomagic, while he was forced to recreate the other entirely as a construct.
Twilight blinked, and more of her vision returned. She smiled. “No, that was actually quite impressive. I want you to know that I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you, Twilight. You have no idea how much that means to me.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, I am outmatched by you. I am sorry.”
“Sorry for- -”
A technomagic spell erupted from Light Gloom’s body. Twilight raised a shield in preparation, but the trajectory of the spell did not bring it to her. Instead, it crossed the empty expanse of the field toward the crowd. More specifically, toward Twilight’s friends.
“NO!” cried Twilight. Without thinking, she reached out with her magic and projected a remote shield just as the nearest of the spells was about to strike Rarity. The spell detonated, but not with force. To her horror, Twilight realized that Light Gloom might very well have just won. Although the superficial program of the spells resembled a sort that would produce a toxic detonation effect, they were just flares. They had been entirely harmless.
A magical beam slammed into Twilight’s side. With her shield extended to be around her friends, she was unable to block it. She smelled the horrible scent of burning fur, and felt the ground slide out from beneath her feet as she was thrown back. Pain radiated through her ribs, and it was followed by numbness. The numbness was bad. It meant that the spell had dug deep, and that its effect was profound.
Then the ground came back. It was a sudden return, and Twilight skidded across it painfully until her back hit a stump. She stopped immediately, lying not far from the friends who she had tried to protect. Looking up, she saw Light Gloom limping toward her.
“You son of a- -”
“Believe me, Goddess,” said Light Gloom, his voice low, “I take no pleasure in having done that. I have indeed sacrificed my honor for victory, and I accept this. But know that they were never in any danger of harm.”
Light Gloom charged a spell. Twilight charged a counterpsell, but whatever Light Gloom had used on her before was interfering with her ability to generate a powerful enough shield. She had enough energy for one, but not one that would prevent a final strike. She had been put in checkmate.
“Twilight!” cried a voice. Cadence’s voice. Twilight looked over her shoulder, and she saw Silken. “Teleport him!”
Twilight instantly understood. She stood up, dragging herself forward and ignoring the pain of doing so. As she did, she changed the nature of her spell, reconfiguring it.
Light Gloom’s spell started to ignite, but Twilight was faster. She engaged a teleportation spell around him. He was not shielded against that type of spell, as he had not expected it. He tried to compensate, but all of his implants were tied into the ongoing spell. He was limited by his computers: he could not cease a spell currently in production, at least not easily.
The space around him erupted with pink-violet light, and then closed inward. His body vanished with a pop as he was teleported away.
Silence fell over the field, save for the sound of Twilight panting. Her mane was messy, and she was sweating despite the cool air. The injury on her side was already healing, and she was exhausted overall.
“What…what did you just do?” asked Rarity.
“I teleported him,” said Twilight. “The fallout…nothing with an organic brain can be teleported in this atmosphere without- -”
An orange surge of energy erupted beside Twilight. She started to turn toward it, confused, but never made it. Her vision erupted with stars as a metal hoof struck the place where her horn intersected with her skull. It was as though there were an explosion in her skull, and all of her conscious thought momentarily stopped. Her legs shook and then went out from beneath her. She collapsed to the ground, defeated.
Twilight attempted to lift her head, but even doing that caused the whole world to spin an waves of nausea to overcome her. Casting any sort of spell was out of the question. A direct horn impact was the simplest, most common, most temporary injury that a unicorn could be subjected to, and yet it had felled her.
She looked up to see Light Gloom approaching her slowly.
“Yes. I know,” he said. “Nothing with an organic brain can tolerate teleportation in this plant’s atmosphere.”
He reached for his damaged mask, and it began to collapse. The metal folded into itself, pulling it away from his face. As Twilight watched, the mask collapsed into a tiny silver sphere. It was not just the mask, though: Light Gloom’s exposed horn deconstructed along with it.
When the mask was fully collapsed, he threw the tiny sphere away, and looked down at Twilight with a pair of tiny and impassive blue pupils set into a pair of white, artificial eyes. The pony that was looking at Twilight was a remnus.
“Twilight,” said Rainbow Dash. “Look!”
Twilight turned her head. She looked out into the crowd, and saw the rest of the cultists repeating what Light Gloom had just done. Their masks dissolved away from them, condensing into tiny spheres. The removal of each mask revealed an identical face: the faces of a horde of remni.
“I am,” said Light Gloom, “and we are. We are the terminal endpoint of pony evolution, what millions of years of evolution has led to. What you sought to create.”
“No, Light Gloom…”
“We are the products of the Mortality Virus, which you yourself created. The Will of the Goddess. It was you who gave us birth, who allowed us to come into existence in our more perfect forms. You sought to undo the damage that evolution had done to us, and you succeeded. We are immortal.”
“Remni are not immortal.”
“That is a misconception. Our upper limit is purely a psychological one. All of those here have overcome it. We have no upper limit to age. Our bodies are machines. We are perpetual, and will persist for eternity. We are what you wanted.”
Twilight struggled to stand up. Light Gloom extended a hoof to her, and she took it. Twilight did not attempt to cast a spell; the duel was over, and she had lost.
“Light Gloom,” said Twilight, feeling herself starting to cry. “You were so young…”
“My strain was especially virulent,” he said. “I never saw my three hundredth birthday.”
“I’m sorry. Light Gloom, I’m so sorry.”
Light Gloom shook his head. “Don’t be sorry, Twilight. I love you. You know that. As a mother, as a lover, as a god. You are my life, and you always have been, and forever will be.” He paused, and for a moment looked pained. He gestured to himself. “I can’t…I just can’t accept that you would do this…not without a purpose! That this is not the Will of the Goddess!”
Twilight said nothing at first. “That is why you wanted Cadence’s body.”
“If you succeeded, you would have created a new race of organic immortals contrary to our synthetic race. It is our mutual conclusion that WE are the future. War would be inevitable with those you create. Or we would watch as evolution fails them as it did us. I know not which.” He sighed. “I cannot allow either to occur. The Mortality Virus must run its course. Ponykind must be allowed to die, so that those who remain can progress to an eternal afterlife in your image.”
Twilight stared up at him, and he looked down at her. She had never seen a pony look so sad. Without hesitating, she hugged him. He resisted for a moment, but then lowered his long neck against her shoulder. They did not exchange words for a long time.
They were only interrupted by the sound of the atmosphere shaking. Both knew what it was, as both could recognize the feeling. Twilight was not sure what Light Gloom’s life had become, and what it truly felt like to live in a body that had been built of metal and machinery in a laboratory, but she knew that he recognized the hum of a ship descending through the atmosphere. She could tell because his grip on her tightened.
The ship came, descending from overhead through the storm with ease. It descended over what had before been a battlefield before finally hovering over the whole where the marker to Cadence and Shining Armor’s tomb had once stood. Its surface looked like that of a Royal Navy ship, and it bore the markings of one- -yet it had a more convoluted shape that indicated that far more than its aetherite skeleton sat beneath that surface. The few shoggoths that remained stared at it greedily, although none of them dared attack.
Several translucent orange circles appeared over the front of the ship. It was raising technomagic spells.
“Goddess,” crackled a voice, coming through the tiny amount of morphiplasm that Twilight still wore. Twilight recognized the voice; although it came from a different mouth than it had before, it had the same obsolete accent that its owner had carried since her childhood in a now extinct megastructure. “We are prepared to attack at your order. And I would so very much like to attack.”
“Hold,” said Twilight. “Not yet.”
The captain obeyed. Light Gloom stared up at the hovering ship for a long moment, looking at the spells that it had pointed at him and his comrades.
“So the duel had no meaning after all,” he said. “You have gained leverage that you did not have before.” He paused, and then looked at Twilight. He had died a young stallion- -a colt, even- -and his new form had left him eternally young- -and yet his eyes seemed to have so much age within them. “So what is your course now? Now that you know our purpose, will you still attempt to forge a new pony race?”
“Light Gloom…I can’t let you take Cadence.”
Light Gloom’s expression fell. “So you intend to breed immortals.”
Twilight sighed. “If you had asked me that before, when I hadn’t come here yet, I would have said yes. I wouldn’t even have hesitated.” Twilight walked to the nearby edge of the crowd where her friends had been standing. They left the edge where they stood beside the undead cultists and joined Twilight.
“I thought,” continued Twilight, “that there was no point in having friends if they would not live as long as I did. That the fact that they would leave me eventually meant that there was no point in opening myself to them in the first place. That the pain outweighed any good that can come from it.” Still standing by her friends, she turned back toward Light Gloom. “But I was wrong. It doesn’t matter if someone can’t be with you forever. You can’t change fate. But what matters is that you understand how important the time you have really is, and just how important every minute is.” She turned back to her friends. “I almost made the mistake of forgetting that, and I almost lost so much.”
“Twilight…”
The group of them leaned inward, and hugged one another softly. As they did, a strange glow began to form around them. The air sparked, but a light seemed to come from within each of them. Twilight felt warm inside for the first time in a long time, and in that moment truly realized the fool she had been for so very long.
Twilight was not the only one who saw this glow. Light Gloom did as well, and although he could not comprehend its meaning he understood that it was magic. His life as a pony had been short, but his existence as a remnus long. He had learned nearly every type of ancient spell that had once existed, painstakingly designing the programs for them so that they could be replicated with technomagic. It was a basic tenant of the word that all magic could be broken down into sterile mathematical subunits no different from any other natural scientific principal.
This, though, he did not understand. In all his studies, he had not encountered records of such a form of magic. If it had existed before in the universe, it had done so long before the history that he was aware of.
He watched as Twilight and her friends rose into the air. Three of them had wings, but that was not what lifted them. The magic grew more intense, and Light Gloom recoiled, not understanding.
“What are you doing?!” he cried.
“I understand,” said Twilight, her eyes distant and glowing with internal light. She turned herself slowly toward where the remnus Silken Dream stood in the body of the Lost Princess Cadence. “I know what I can do.”
A beam of energy came from the six ponies, reaching out and striking the second alicorn. Silken bent and took a step back as though she were struck, but held herself in place. Then she raised her head and looked to the sky as the light began to glow brightly around her.
At this point, Light Gloom understood. Where this powerful magic was coming from remained a mystery- -Twilight’s horn was still damaged, and none of the others had the capacity to cast something of such great force- -but he could comprehend part of the spell. It was merging with Cadence’s genetic code, replicating it into a single magical signal.
“NO!” he cried. “I won’t let you!” He charged every implant he had left, forcing all of the technomagic he could muster around the seven ponies. He created every sort of protection spell he could manage, including several that his body was not rated for. His primary reactor was pushed to critical, and his implants strained and burned inside his body.
“Please,” said Twilight. “Light Gloom. Don’t try to stop me.”
“I’m sorry,” said Light Gloom. “I have to try…”
Twilight sighed, and then closed her eyes. When she opened them, the light exploded from within her and her friends with an intensity tens of thousands of times brighter than Light Gloom had through possible. He screamed as every one of his spells shattered and his body was torn apart from the overload. As every implant he had burned and melted within him, he realized that no magic he could ever summon would have been even close to what Twilight now wielded.
The beam from the Six intensified, and shot toward Silken. Silken braced, and absorbed the beam. Then it shot upward from her, into Equestria’s sky, a rainbow of pure magic, one that had come into existence for the first time in half a million years but that every pony present somehow found familiar.
Across the field, Starlight Glimmer watched the rainbow wave lift into the sky. She stared at it for just a moment, basking in its glow. She then smiled, and in an instant was gone. Her mission had finally been completed.
The beam propagated across space, reaching out to every pony who had come to inhabit the far reaches of the universe. Distance had no meaning to the magic, and it reached them with ease: a small fraction of the beam traveled to each and every one of them. Those that inhabited the remains of now mostly empty megastructures; those who plumbed the dark void in starships, or those who waited on lonely and distant colonies; those still alive who stood in each of the Four Great Cults; even the crew of the Prodijila, including Heliotrope and Golden Star: they all welcomed the light into themselves. Not one of them resisted it, because they understood what it was. It struck each of them, filling them with warmth that all of them felt as though they could almost remember.
They held onto this glow even after the beam left them, departing as quickly as it had come. Twilight and her friends floated back to the ground below, and the light around them faded. Each of them smiled, and Pinkie Pie giggled.
“I missed that,” she said.
“So did I,” sighed Twilight. “I had almost forgotten…”
She turned slowly to where Light Gloom lay. His body had been ruined, but enough of his core components remained to allow him to attempt to crawl forward. As he did, his one functional eye swiveled toward Twilight and he spoke without moving his mouth.
“What have you done? Goddess, please, I have to know…”
“Like you said. I couldn’t reverse the Mortality Virus. But I needed to try to fix my mistake. I had to use a different way. One that I hadn’t realized before.”
“The immortal race- -”
“There is no immortal race,” said Twilight. “Ponies are still infected. They will still live their lives and, one day, they will each die.”
“Then what did you do?”
“I could only make a small change.” Twilight smiled to Silken, who approached slowly. “I copied the one element that Cadence had that the rest of the Tribunal didn’t. I gave them back their ability to have children.”
Light Gloom stared in disbelief, although Twilight saw his pupil dilate in confusion. “You what?”
“I told you.” Twilight smiled. “You always were a poor listener.”
“But that means…”
“It means that they have a chance to try again. I don’t know if evolution will take them in the direction I want it too, but I don’t think that it’s my right to control that. I don’t think it ever was. I gave them a second chance.”
“But more are born,” said Light Gloom. “And more will die. And many of those will become remni, like us. Our race cannot breed, but you have ensured that our numbers will now grow for as long as ponies remain.”
“I did,” said Twilight. “I said that I didn’t think that remni alone were the future, but not that they shouldn’t exist.” She leaned on Silken. “I think that we should coexist. I thought you would like this compromise.”
“I do,” said Light Gloom. “I am so very happy. And so very sorry. That I did not trust you. And…”
“You don’t need to apologize.” Twilight smiled. “We all make mistakes.”
“But now we do not need to fight,” said Silken, also smiling. “It is all over.”
Light Gloom’s eye turned to the ground, unable to meet Twilight’s or Silken’s. “If only that were the case…”
Before Twilight could ask what he meant, a pony stepped from the crowd. After a moment, Twilight recognized her as the mare who had stood at Light Gloom’s side. She was the only one among them who had not removed her mask.
Twilight frowned. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“The amount of planning this took,” said the mare. “Do you know how much effort you have sacrificed, Twilight Sparkle? How much damage you have just done?”
Twilight was taken aback. “Damage? What are you talking about?”
“It is over,” said Silken, clearly growing agitated. “There is no reason to fight anymore.”
“I do not fight,” said the mare. “I achieve victory.”
Twilight took a step forward, even though Silken tried to stop her. “No,” she said, pushing Silken’s hoof aside. “I get it. If this one wants to fight me, let her. It won’t even be a duel.”
“No,” said the mare. “It won’t be.”
Twilight sighed and raised her horn. She produced a potent stunning spell, designed to be hearty enough to cut through whatever hastily constructed technomagic this mare used and whatever runes her armor might have contained. She was quite clearly not as powerful as Light Gloom; in all probability, no mortal pony probably was. With alicorn magic, defeating her would be simple.
The spell flew from Twilight’s horn, but the mare did not summon her technomagic. Instead, she lowered her head. The very tip of her long horn ignited with blinding white light.
Twilight barely had time to raise a shield bubble around herself and Light Gloom. Silken, fortunately, had a faster reaction speed; she summoned a shield not only around herself but around Twilight’s friends as well, protecting them from the outpouring of magical energy. It was a blinding explosion, but in her horror Twilight realized that it was not even a proper spell. The energy that surrounded her was chaotic and unbound by any limitations: it was pure and undifferentiated solar energy.
The light was blinding, but through the near opacity of her shield and her darkened morphiplasm visor, Twilight was able to see the pony standing before her. Despite the intense heat, the mare had not collapsed or withered. Instead, the armor she wore had burned and melted away to reveal the glorious pony beneath. She was tall, but thicker bodied than modern alicorns, and her body was pure white. She stared forward with violet irises not too different in color from Cadence’s, and her mane and tail seemed to pour out of her damaged armor like plumes of green, purple, pink and gold. Underneath the now ruined Cult armor, she wore a much thinner suit that Twilight knew had been carved from the core of a neutron star, the very heart of a dead sun.
The atomic plasma that surrounded Celestia slowly faded as she stepped across the burned ground with a level of grace that no mortal alicorn or remnus could ever match. She spread her enormous white wings, pushing away the last remnants of the charred armor she had worn before. Twilight stared in awe; even though she had known Celestia for her entire life, the Elder Alicorn never cased to amaze her.
“Celestia,” said Twilight, resisting the urge to bow. She lowered her shield, and immediately felt the extreme heat from the cooked ground around her.
“Twilight,” said Celestia. She appeared glad to see the pony who was once her student but now her peer, although Twilight sensed subtle disappointment in her eyes. Celestia turned her gaze to Twilight’s friends, and Silken lowered the blue shield that surrounded them.
“Princess,” said Applejack as the group bowed.
“Applejack. Rainbow Dash. Rarity, Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy.” Celestia smiled. “I had never in my wildest dreams thought that I would see your faces again. I won’t ask what brought you back to us. It just makes you glad to see you with Twilight once again.”
Twilight looked down at Light Gloom. “You knew.”
He struggled to nod with his skeletal neck. “I did not act alone,” he said. “Nor does she share my ideology. Or the ideology I had. But the means toward our goals were equivalent. There is…more than one Will of the Goddess.”
Twilight stiffened. She instantly understood the implications of what Light Gloom meant.
“Of course, his ‘ideology’- -as he puts it- -was doomed to failure,” said Celestia. Light Gloom looked at her, and Twilight saw the betrayal in his eye. “Please. The idea of remni inheriting the role ponies once played? Impossible. As many as there are, they cannot breed. They would have been a terminal point in pony history, but not in the way he intended. They would have existed to die out in time, and leave the universe empty.” Celestia paused. “That was what they were intended to do, anyway.”
“You gave him the schematics to build the dimensional hammer,” whispered Twilight.
Celesita laughed. “Oh, no, Twilight. I gave him what information I could, but you know that technology was never my strong suit.”
Twilight glared at her, but she only smiled maddeningly in return. “You were on that ship! You let him fire that- -that abomination!”
“Of course.”
“You would have destroyed Equestria!”
“That was my intention.”
Twilight’s anger caught in her throat. It had been stifled by disbelief. Celestia’s smile faded, and she sighed.
“As the machine stated,” she said, “We had different ends. His were doomed to failure, but mine were imperative. So I gave him what support I could. Told him of this mission, brought him here. So that he could do what I needed to have done.”
“But…but why?”
Celestia paused. “Thirteen times,” she said at last. “That is the number of times we have tried and failed to create a perfect civilization. Equestria was the most recent. But you know the others. ‘Alien’ civilizations found out amongst the suns that I once ruled. Although I must be honest. Ponies performed far greater than any of our previous attempts, and Equestria progressed farther than any before it. But a failure is a failure.”
“Celestia, I don’t understand!”
Celestia’s eyes narrowed. “Look around you! This civilization came farther than any other, but it in time faded. As they always do. The population had become mortal, sterile. The ‘dominant race’ was to become machines that would fail and collapse within ten millennia.” She turned to Light Gloom. “If, of course, I had not chosen to purge you as is. I find it so very difficult to harm my subjects, but removing the undead is not an issue for me.”
“I should have seen it before,” said Light Gloom. “I never should have listened to you. You’re a monster.”
“I am a god,” said Celestia. “Extermination of mortals is my duty, as it was twelve times before.”
“Celestia…”
“The time of Setting is coming, Twilight,” said Celestia, more softly. “My power is at its zenith, and my memory of so many billions of years returning intact. Soon, we will Set and await the Rise into a new world. Our bodies will be restored anew, and we shall walk the earth fresh and young. And from there, we will create the fourteenth civilization.”
“The fourteenth civilization already exists!” snapped Twilight. She trotted forward angrily, directly confronting her former teacher. There were a few gasps from the cultists who watched with rapt attention. “Did you stop to look at this planet at all?” Twilight pointed her hoof out at the far ends of the battlefield, where the shoggoth queens stood beside the windigo mages. “Civilization is already returning to this planet! Did you even stop to think about that?!”
Celestia’s expression remained neutral. If anything, it was the same look of maddening disapproval that she had long ago given Twilight when she complained that a simple spell was ‘impossible’ or when she appeared in class tired and bleary from having read books all through the night. “I did not know because I did not look. It makes it easier.”
“Easier- -Celestia! There are creatures on this planet, that can build- -”
“All I see are failed clones and ghosts,” interrupted Celestia. “And yes. The windigoes may have evolved to a level of sentience where they could provide the next civilization. But they are not part of our plan. We did not make allotments for them as a civilization after the Rise.”
“That doesn’t mean you should destroy them!”
“Twilight,” said Celestia, putting her long hoof on Twilight’s shoulder. It felt warm. “You are young. A product of this cycle. I had never even dreamed that a creature like you could come into existence. You are indeed this cycle’s greatest success.”
“Then explain it to me. Why? Why would you hurt them?”
“It isn’t about hurting them. We have tried before, to allow a civilization to rise while we sleep. But without our guidance, the cycle merges with the next one. It becomes uncontrollable…and then catastrophic. Even the slightest remainder. The creature that you once called ‘Discord’ was a remnant of the Fourth Cycle, and he nearly unraveled this cycle early on, before we had fully Risen.”
“You were going to let ponies die out,” said Twilight, her voice wavering as she took a large step away. “And you were going to burn Equestria…so that whatever comes next couldn’t find what was left behind here…”
“How long would it be until the windigoes found a way to understand the technology buried on this planet? The dimensional hammers, perhaps, or even worse. And what would they do when they meet our new civilization? Twilight, please.” Celestia paused. “We are simply clearing the blackboard,” she said, using an analogy. “This picture has faded. It is time to make a new one.”
“And if I don’t let you?”
Celestia frowned. “Don’t be a fool, Twilight. Don’t stand in my way. You are a sister to me, as Luna is, and as Cadence was…and perhaps is again.”
“I’m not letting you hurt this planet.” Twilight felt a set of presences around her, and saw her friends moving to stand beside her. From above, she felt several windigoes land on the ground and walk noiselessly to a cautious distance from Celestia. What few shoggoths remained stood beside them. After a long pause, the Cultists themselves turned toward Celestia, and Twilight felt a slight shift in the air as they prepared to summon various spells. All of them must have known it would be a losing battle, but none of them seemed to care. They stood beside their Goddess.
“There are so many things of beauty here,” said Rarity. “Even if some are frightening or seem grotesque, this planet still has so much to offer!”
“There are still so many animals,” said Fluttershy.
“And the land’s still green,” said Applejack. “Even if what’s growing on it is a little different.”
“The skies are still open,” said Rainbow Dash. She pointed over her shoulder at the windigoes. “And we have ponies here to ride the storm.”
“And we’ve got all these guys!” said Pinkie Pie, hugging a cultist’s front legs. “And they’re not so bad! Even if I have absolutely no idea how to tell ANY of them apart!”
“I abandoned Equestria once,” said Twilight. “And I’m not going to do it again!”
“You would challenge me over this, Twilight?”
“I would,” said Twilight. “And I will fight you, as much as I don’t want to. Like you said. You are family to me. But these are my friends. I can’t let you hurt them, and that’s final.”
Celestia stared at Twilight for a long time, thinking. For a time, Twilight thought that she was preparing to attack, and that there would indeed be a battle- -one that she was not sure she could win. But instead of producing a barrage of divine energy, Celestia spoke.
“There will be a condition,” she said.
“Name it.”
“Neither of you will Set.”
“Neither of us?”
Celestia nodded. “You, Twilight, will rule the ponies of the Exodus in my and my sister’s place. Shepard them, care for them. Let their race die if it must, and let it flourish again if it can. So that they can be at peace with my new civilization when the time comes.” She turned to Silken. “And you. The remnus Silken Dream, in the body of Cadence. You surely understand the responsibility you took on when you accepted that body.”
“I do,” said Silken.
“Although you were not born one of us, you will function as a pure alicorn. I task you with protecting the body of my niece, and will allow this so long as you swear to rule alongside Twilight. You will watch over this planet. While Twilight guides its elder children, you will raise the younger. Teach them what they can learn, and ensure that ponies never again return to this world to plunder its secrets. They had their chance, and they failed Equestria. It is time to put it in new hooves.”
“I cannot manage such a task alone.”
“Then you may build a force of remni who choose to join you, if you must. A Cult of the Lost Goddess. A cult of the dead. Let this world become ponykind’s necropolis. I do not believe this world’s races will ever join Twilight in the stars, but if they do, ensure that they are ready.”
Silken seemed to think for a moment, and then bowed deeply. “I accept this task. I shall assume the role of Princess if it means that this world can be safeguarded, and that the friends I have been allowed to make here may persist.”
“And you, Twilight?” asked Celestia. “Will you accept my proposition? Do not decide too quickly. If you choose not to Set, you will be cursed to bear the memories of immortality in full. They will not fade with every cycle and return slowly, as mine or Luna’s do. You will be cursed with the agony of ages.”
“That’s one way to look at it,” said Twilight. “But immortality isn’t just pain and darkness. I have friends now, and I will make more. Forever, across time.” She paused. “I intend to make sure that I have far more good memories than bad ones. And I don’t want to lose those anyway. So yes. I accept.”
Celestia smiled, and it was the soft smile that Twilight remembered from long ago. “I thought I wouldn’t be able to change your mind. Now I can Set knowing that the universe is in good hooves. When we Rise again, both myself and Luna will be curious to see what you have created in our absence. And perhaps together the thirteenth and fourteenth cycles will succeed where the others failed.”
The Prodijila had landed, extending long landing struts to support itself as the failing engines powered down. Although whole, its engine core was badly damaged. It had taken all of its power to land. Almost as soon as it had, though, the cultists had swarmed it. Light Gloom had declared it impossible to repair, but they intended to prove him wrong.
Twilight had stood and watched as a long ramp had descended from the ship. Two remni, now painted white, had descended with two ponies who walked shakily in suits of morphiplasm. The remni had been the captain of the ship and the sensor pony known as Inky Nebula; the pair of frightened looking living alicorns were Heliotrope and Golden Star. Those two became the first mortal, living ponies to set hoof on Equestria in countless millennia. The wonderment in their eyes was clear, but it was also clear that this planet was no longer meant for them. Without the power assists and gravity support in their suits, they would have collapsed under the gravity. Neither could breathe the air, and even the dim light was too bright for them.
While Twilight led her friends to greet them, Silken approached Light Gloom, who had been left alone. His body had partially regenerated, and while he still had a long way to go before he was whole again, he was able to look up at her and speak clearly.
“What am I to do now?” he asked.
“Some of your comrades have chosen to return with Twilight,” said Silken, staring out at the ship and her friends. “Others have chosen to stay here with me. Supposedly I am to have my own Cult. Or, rather, Cadence is to have a new Cult. I suppose that makes me a High Priestess, then?”
“I see,” said Light Gloom. His eyes looked out toward Twilight. “But that does not answer the question. I do not know what I am to do.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Want?” Light Gloom looked up at Silken. “I…I don’t know. It is hard for a remnus to answer that question.”
“I know,” said Silken.
Light Gloom sighed. “I betrayed the trust of my Goddess in the name of her Will. I was a fool, and she accomplished my task without any of the sacrifices I was prepared to make. She will not forgive me.”
“Do you really believe that?”
Light Gloom thought a moment. “No,” he said at last. “But I fear that there is no place for me on Dusk. My fraction of the Cult will no longer mesh with the living members, not well. It is best, I think, to let the new Cult remni start anew. Without my interference.”
“But where does that leave you?”
“My quandary exactly.”
Silken reached down and took Light Gloom by the hoof. With a great deal of effort- -she was much weaker in Cadence’s body than she was in her own- -she helped him to his hooves. He stood shakily, and Silken looked up into his large eyes. She smiled. “I would not mind if you would stay here with me.”
“With you?”
“I will be the High Priestess of the Cult of the Lost Goddess. But I would like to have a Prefect beside me.”
“And you would accept me in such a role?”
“Of course. I have learned so much since I came here, but the most important…” she looked out into the distance, where some cultists stood attempting to communicate with shoggoths or scrawling spells through the air to speak to windigoes. The ship was nearly repaired, and Twilight would soon depart with the five she loved most dearly at her side, “…is to have friends.”
“Friends…” said Light Gloom. He looked at Silken “I think I would like that.”
