There are good books, bad books, and evil books. Guess which kind has just arrived at the Ponyville Library.
Things are going pretty well at the Ponyville Library! Princess Celestia is even stopping by for tea this afternoon, which certainly isn't a kind of exam, definitely not requiring frantic preparation.
Even better, a long-backordered book has finally arrived. But as Twilight and her friends are about to discover, this is no ordinary book. Because while reading may be for everypony, certain stories are not for the faint of heart.
(This is a rework of a previously-cancelled, never-finished story of mine. Please note that detailed knowledge of Fallout/Fo:E is not required to enjoy this version.)
Chapter 1: Books Are Perfectly Safe, Please Stop Asking
It was half past seven in the morning, and Twilight Sparkle was already out of bed.
And frowning, too. Even after three cups of coffee.
The leaves of the library tree rustled gently in the early-morning breeze, mixing with the steady ticking of her grandfather clock. Dusty rays of sunlight filtered in through the window, playing across the usual book piles, rolls of parchment, and quills that covered Twilight’s room. She narrowed her eyes in concentration, staring with over-caffeinated intensity at the contents of an enormous, gently-wobbling serving tray.
After a few minutes, the serving tray spoke. “I think the gold ones are nice...”
“Shh! Quiet, Spike. Don’t interrupt.”
Gold, silver, or plain porcelain? wondered Twilight, her mind still racing. Gold matches Celestia’s aura, but is it too gaudy? Luna might be upset if I used silver without inviting her...
Silence returned. After a few minutes, the tray tilted slightly.
“This thing is really heavy. Can you just pick one? I know it’s important, but does it really matter which...”
“Of course it matters, Spike! Princess Celestia coming for tea isn’t just about tea!”
“Right, but I think it’s mostly about tea, though. Isn’t that what her letter said? Looking forward to a quiet cup of Darjeeling...”
Twilight huffed. “I’ve been in Ponyville two years now, and trust me, this is practically an exam. Everything has to be perfect! Not just the tea. Everything. Especially these.”
“They’re napkin rings, Twilight. Does the Princess even use those?”
“Of course she does! What civilized pony doesn’t use napkins!”
“That’s not what I... ow.” Spike gave up and and put the tray down, massaging his back. “Actually, if the Princess spilled something, couldn’t she just blast it with her magic?”
Twilight gave him a hard look. Unfortunately he was used to that, and looked right back, grinning. “I’ll bet you a plate of rubies that’s exactly what she...”
”Spike!”
“OK, OK. Gold it is, then. I’ll get started on the table setting.”
“Thanks, Spike,” sighed Twilight. “And sorry. I just really want this to go well.”
Spike rolled his eyes, plucking the winning rings from the tray and giving them a spin on his claws. “Relax. She isn’t even coming until this afternoon.”
“Oh my goodness, you’re right! We only have another eight hours to prepare!”
The Ponyville Library had never looked so neat and tidy. Books were lined up perfectly straight, spines exactly two inches from the edge of each shelf. The card catalog had been indexed by topic, on the off chance the Princess wanted to read a book on Fishing or Pottery during her visit, and then cross-indexed in case she preferred something by a particular author instead.
Every flat surface had been had been dusted to within an inch of its life, and then dusted again for good measure; the living wood of the reading room practically glowed under three coats of Bark Brothers’ Beautiful Tree Treatment. Occasional library patrons were encouraged, in various ways, not to linger.
Twilight was just finishing up in the kitchen, trying to figure out the most casual-looking arrangement for a cookbook and tea-towel on the counter, when Spike called out to her.
“Hey, I got the pastries and stuff all laid out. But did you want the ‘good’ tea service or the extra-good one?”
“The one from the top of the cabinet, Spike,” she said, poking her head back into the dining nook. “The one Shining gave me after I moved to Ponyville.”
He reached for the stepstool, but the gleaming silver tea service floated down from the china cabinet and onto the table, riding a cloud of purple magic. Twilight stepped into the room and looked more closely. The tea-tray took place of pride at the center of the table, surrounded by a slightly-excessive collection of muffins, rolls, pastries, crackers, tea-cakes, biscuits, cheese cubes, milk chocolates, dark chocolates, white chocolates, cheese balls, caramels, more crackers, celery sticks, and miniature sandwiches. Along with a stack of tiny plates, and a gleaming arsenal of dessert-related silverware.
And napkins, of course; gold-ringed and exquisitely rolled.
She circled the table three times, poking at a muffin here, realigning a teacup there. Batting at the lacy white tablecloth, she frowned. “Hmmm.... this looks a little bunched up. Can we try again with the silk one?”
Spike explained why that wasn’t possible, using metaphors where appropriate.
“Spike! That really isn’t appropriate language for a baby dragon. Anyway, I guess it’ll be OK.”
He nodded curtly. Twilight groaned and rested her head on the tablecloth, being careful not to crease it. “I mean, thank you, Spike. Again. You did a great job. I’m just being a crazy pony.”
Spike grinned, sampling a suspiciously gem-like hard candy. “Don’t mention it. Can I go to the comic book store now?”
“Of course,” said Twilight, looking up. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay? I’m sure the Princess would love to see you again. And you’ve been a big help with my weekly reports.”
“Nah, that’s OK. I’ll catch up with the Power Ponies, and you two can sip tea and have long boring discussions about magic and friendship.” Spike made a face. “Blarg.”
“Blarg? What exactly do you find blarg about friendship, Spike?”
He opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by the tinkling of the front-door bell. Applejack and Rarity stepped in, looking around appreciatively.
“Girls!” said Twilight, beaming. “I wasn’t expecting you!”
“Just thought we’d stop by and see if you needed any help,” said Applejack, tilting her hat. “Before your big event, that is. I guess not, though. Gosh, this place sure does clean up nice.”
“And such an impressive setting for tea!” Rarity said, admiring the table. She pursed her lips. “You are, ah, sure about the gold...”
“I can change it to silver! I just need to write a letter to Princess Luna!”
“No, no, dear,” Rarity replied, tossing her mane. “I’m sure it will be lovely. In any case, wonderful preparation! Not many ponies even own a proper set of dessert flatware. Although the strudel spear really should go to the left of the flan mallet, I believe. According to Canterlot rules, that is.”
Thankfully for Twilight’s silverware collection, the mail slot in the front door chose that moment to go flop. Spike picked up the pile from the welcome mat and poked through it. “Hey Twilight, you got another delivery from Creased Page.” He waved a book-shaped package, wrapped in brown paper and twine, and set it on the table with the rest of the mail.
Twilight clapped her front hooves together. “Wonderful! That’ll be the new Daring Do. And right on time, too; Rainbow’s been bugging me all week.”
“Actually, looks like we got two packages from Creased. Huh. This one’s weird, though.”
Twilight’s ears perked up, and she trotted over. “Weird? You mean damaged?”
“No, it’s... well, here it is.” Spike held out the second package, and Twilight took it in her magic.
The “weird” package was about the same size as the first, maybe slightly slimmer. Sure enough, the label on the front had Creased Page’s crossed-quills logo, and the library address in neat hornwriting. But that was where the similarities ended. Instead of brown paper, this package was wrapped in glimmering, iridescent material, which sparkled in the sunlight from the window.
Twilight beamed, bouncing in place. “YES! Yes yes yes!”
“A little light reading?” asked Applejack, peering over for a better look. “I’m assuming there is actually a book in there, right? Not just a big pile of magic?”
The wrapping was clearly magical, and had an odd sense of depth; motes of power flashed and glowed below the surface as Twilight tilted it back and forth. It was like looking into a fire opal. And instead of twine, the wrapping was sealed by an intricate silver clasp.
“Sorry,” said Twilight, blushing. “Yes, it’s a book, but... well, it’s hard to explain. It’s kind of a mystery.”
“I do enjoy a good mystery,” said Rarity. “But I get the feeling you don’t mean a Dixon Hoof novel.”
“No, sorry, I mean it’s mysterious. And magical, supposedly. Somehow. Creased Page is probably the only book dealer in all of Equestria who could track down a copy.” She waggled her eyebrows conspiratorially. “They say the writer was from another dimension!”
Neither Applejack nor Rarity knew quite how to respond to that, so they both settled for “Hmmmm.”
“It’s been months! And I finally get to...”
The bell tinkled again, very briefly, as a blueish blur entered at high speed; the library door flew all the way open and bounced off the wall.
“Rainbow!” shouted Twilight. “Easy on the hardware!”
Rainbow Dash didn’t even have the decency to stop grinning, as she hovered unreasonably close to Twilight’s nose. Her saddlebags bulged, promising defiance of the library rules on snacks in the reading areas. “Is. It. Here?” she asked, practically whispering.
Twilight kept her frown up as long as possible, before she had to give in and return the grin. “On the table.”
The plainly-wrapped package on the table disappeared, replaced by a rainbow trail which led towards the Main Reading Room. Bits of torn brown wrapping paper drifted to the floor in its wake. Twilight sighed and levitated them into a nearby trash can.
In the meantime, Rarity had picked up the mysterious book, and was turning it over and over in her magic, admiring its flashing in the sunlight. “Really quite extrordinary! So beautiful. What’s this delightful pattern in silver on the front?”
Twilight smiled even wider. “It’s a magical containment rune! Class four, I think.”
Rarity froze. “Twilight, darling.”
“Yes?”
“This book. Which you have just received at your home. In the regular mail. From that insane poetry-trafficking friend of yours. And which I am now holding, less than a foot from my face.”
Rarity relaxed. “I apologize. I suppose he’s just being thorough, with the rune?”
“Oh, no. The magic contained in the book might be very dangerous indeed.”
Rarity gave up, levitating it over to Twilight and backing away. “Sounds most interesting, dear.”
Twilight rolled her eyes. “Again, it’s contained. With what looks like three layers of magical shielding, plus a rune that keeps it from being breached by mistake. And I have all the equipment needed to safely open it, in the lab downstairs. The danger isn’t the point! Think of the possibilities!”
She looked at the clock. “Speaking of which, the Princess won’t be here for another, uh, six hours or so. Would you two be interested? If I can find the right translation spell, we might be the first ponies in Equestria to read the story inside! What a beautiful moment to share with two of my very best friends!”
Twilight had never looked so eager, grinning broadly and practically vibrating in place. Applejack and Rarity shared a look.
“Reckon I really should be getting back to the farm.”
“Big order this week, darling.”
“Yeah the, uh, lima bean harvest is coming up.”
“Custom duck shoes for Fluttershy. Lots of waterproofing.”
Twilight’s brilliant smile dropped slightly. “Oh, that’s OK, I guess. I just thought...” There was an uncomfortable silence.
Professionally speaking, Rarity was used to that. Silence can be an important part of the sales process, after all. The trick is not to fold; just politely wait a bit, until the customer comes around. Minute after dusty minute ticked painfully by, and finally she began inching back towards the door...
Unfortunately, Applejack was a different kind of salespony.
“You reckon it’ll be safe, right? I’m not going back to the farm with six legs and two noses?”
Twilight nodded vigorously. “I have the very latest in literary safety spells!”
“Oh, what the hay. Let’s do it. It actually sounds kind of fun.”
“Yes,” said Rarity, smiling tightly. “Fun. Let’s all have fun opening the dangerous magical book together.”
Twilight bounced again, and trotted off towards the basement door. “Good luck,” whispered Spike, choosing that moment to make his exit.
Rarity and Applejack followed Twilight, keeping their distance from her and the book. “Should we invite Rainbow Dash?” asked Rarity.
“Yep, I’ll ask. Bet she can’t tear herself away from Daring Do, though.”
Applejack stuck her head into the main reading room as they passed. Sure enough, Rainbow Dash lay sprawled on the window seat of the Ponyville Library Book Nook, surrounded by candy wrappers and a small forest of Blueberry Blast! soda cans. She turned a page with her nose, reading intently.
“Dash, Twilight’s gonna show us a mystery book. Sorry, I mean a mysterious book. You interested?” Dash grunted and flipped her wings in an irritated way. Applejack chuckled. “Suit yourself. Now listen, if we get sucked into another dimension or something, y’all have to come rescue us, OK?”
Twilight rolled her eyes again as she opened the basement door. “Really, Applejack. Reading is a very safe activity! Safer than crossing the street. And Rainbow, please clean up a little. Princess Celestia will be here in a few hours.”
The basement laboratory was pleasantly cool. Twilight placed the book on a workbench, and rolled back the rug, uncovering a large expanse of stone floor.
“Now, safety first,” she said, digging in a drawer for a piece of chalk. “Magic books can be unpredictable. So, whatever’s in there, we have to bind it to prevent any leakage.”
Applejack and Rarity looked at each other. The basement seemed to be getting chillier. “Leakage?” asked Applejack carefully.
“Stray magic,” said Twilight in a distracted way, floating a half-dozen heavy-looking books in front of her. “We don’t want to melt the building or turn ourselves into fruit bats. Now, what we need is a good solid binding spell. I haven’t actually... Ah! Here we go.”
Most of the floating volumes returned to the shelves, leaving behind a surprisingly new-looking spell book. Quick Spells For The Busy Book Enthusiast thumped down on a carved wooden lectern, as Twilight flipped through it. “You know, I just got this last week. Good timing!”
Chalk flew as Twilight concentrated on the instructions. Every now and then she paused, scraped out a mistake and then carried on. Slowly, an intricate circular pattern took shape on the basement floor.
“Why, it looks positively bold!” exclaimed Rarity. “With a very interesting and, um, oddly screw-like motif? Although you’re the expert, of course.”
“Kinda looks like a cider press,” said Applejack, tilting her head to view the circle better. “Maybe whoever wrote the spell was drunk.”
“Well, most ponies who research binding magic are crazy,” said Twilight, with a dismissive flip of her hoof. “They spend half their time being attacked by escaped eldritch beings.”
Rarity gulped, as quietly as possible. “When you say eldritch, dear, what exactly... I mean, how many teeth...”
“Done!” Twilight exclaimed, dropping the chalk back onto her workbench. With an eager smile she lifted the wrapped book and placed it in the exact center of the circle. Everypony held their breath, and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
And waited...
Applejack gave up holding her breath, quickly followed by Rarity. Twilight frowned and poked the book experimentally with a hoof.
Nothing seemed to be happening.
“Is, uh, is something wrong?” asked Applejack. Twilight looked down at the book with a puzzled expression. “Well, normally when an object is placed in a binding circle, the runes light up. I mean, not always, but...” Her horn glowed as she bumped the book up and down a few times, as if hoping it would trigger something. “I’m sure it’s fine. Probably the book just needs to be unwrapped before the circle will engage.”
Rarity was learning back as far as possible without falling over. “Twilight, dear, are you absolutely sure this is the right circle?”
Twilight gave her a hurt look. “Rarity, this reference book was a gift from Princess Celestia! And it says this spell is specifically approved for library use! Here, take a look for yourself.” Twilight levitated Quick Spells off its stand and passed it to her.
”Clover’s Circle of Stout Binding,” Rarity read aloud, as Twilight delicately began to unwrap the book. The silver clasp made a quiet “pling” sound on the stone floor as she cast it aside, and began opening the inner set of wards.
”This spell allows high-quality and stable binding of any magical text, with the exception of certain dragon-authored works whose construction uses a mineral base...”
Another “pling” as an inner layer of wrapping, rich with gemstones, joined the previous one on the floor. The outline of the mysterious book was becoming clearer.
”It is guaranteed to produce an absolutely reliable result, even for softcovers in lending-library circulation, provided an approved glue is used and the finished bound book is not overly abused by patrons...”
Rarity dropped the spell book, looking frantic. “Twilight, STOP!”
But it was too late. The final layer of wrapping came off. Startled by Rarity’s shout, Twilight dropped the now-exposed book into the circle, where it landed with a hollow-sounding thud. To everyone’s horror, the cover came open, pages flapping freely within the circle’s useless magical inscriptions.
Rarity covered her face with a hoof, wondering which end of a pony hungry eldritch abominations tended to start with. Applejack crouched, pulling out her lasso and preparing for battle. And Twilight just stared blankly down at the flowing, ornate letters on the title page, unable to comprehend what she was seeing.
It was...
... Daring Do And The Temple Of The Sea Ponies.
The room was silent for a moment.
“No,” said Twilight eventually, pointing an accusing hoof down at the book. A few strands of hair popped loose from her mane. “No, this isn’t possible. You aren’t possible.” Her horn glowed as she turned to a random page, reading desperately:
... skidded to a halt behind the castle wall, the coral creatures’ unearthly shrieks echoing in her ears. Daring’s heart pounded in terror. They had been ponies once...
“No, no, no!” The pages flipped again:
”... with shellfish!” sneered the Crown Princess, twirling the keys just out of reach. “You, and your friends, will find the waters of the deep ocean can be dangerously hot...”
Twilight’s horn went out, and the pages lay still. Her mind raced, trying desperately to avoid the obvious, inevitable conclusion.
Silently, she turned and looked up the staircase, towards the closed basement door.
Rainbow Dash wasn’t reading.
Or rather, despite the enormous size of the book in her hooves, and the fact that barely twenty minutes had gone by, she had somehow impossibly finished reading. The book lay open to the last page, flyleaf wavering gently in the still air of the library. She gazed vacantly into the middle distance, with a mute, horrified expression.
Twilight crept forward. “Dash, what book do you have there?” Applejack waited, nervously, at her side. Rarity waited, more nervously, across the room.
Ever so slowly, Rainbow Dash turned her head, and stared unblinkingly at Twilight.
“...,” she explained.
Maybe it isn’t, thought Twilight desperately. Maybe Creased Page didn’t really mix them up before mailing them. Maybe there were two copies of the same book, and she read it really fast, and the Sea Ponies were just unexpectedly scary...
She gently closed the cover of Dash’s book, and winced at the savage-looking alien letters on the spine.
“No no no no no no no!” Twilight trotted frantically in place, before rushing over a nearby bookshelf. “How could I have let this happen?”
“Let what happen?” asked Applejack, waving a hoof ineffectively in front of Dash’s face. Finally she just grabbed her friend’s shoulders and shook her. “Dash!”
Dash continued her staring, mane flying and head flopping loosely from the shaking. The Blueberry Blast! pile fell over with a metallic crash, soda cans rolling off in every direction across the library floor. “She’s stuck or something! What’s wrong with her!”
“I don’t know!” cried Twilight, now just pulling books off the shelves, levitating some and piling others in an enormous heap. “She doesn’t have a binding circle! It could do anything!”
“What do you mean, anything? It’s a book! Somepony sat down and wrote...”
“Not a pony,” Twilight corrected, frantically wrenching open the card catalog and ejecting the contents. “Felis sapiens. I mean, we think,” she rambled desperately. “All we have is the author’s name, and...”
“Felix who? You’re saying she’s stuck like this because... because the magic in there...” Applejack trailed off, crouched in the index-card snowstorm, holding Dash’s head in her hooves like she was afraid it might collapse.
“Twilight?” asked Rarity, softly. “Exactly what kind of things are supposed to be in this story?”
Twilight froze, looking at them nervously. A chaotic constellation of books and index cards, along with a few stray pieces of library shelving, hung motionless in the air while she tried to think what to say.
“... bad things,” she finally whispered.
Rainbow Dash made a noise.
Twilight turned around so fast she nearly fell over, and stood gaping. Rarity surveyed the scene from a nearby end table, swiftly redecorating the floor around it with a shattered-lamp motif. Even Applejack took a step back, giving her friend some space.
“Dash? You, uh, feeling alright?”
Rainbow appeared to be trying to speak. Her mouth worked soundlessly, muzzle scrunching up. She drew breath.
“Ahhhhh......”
“Dash?”
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh....”
Applejack looked helplessly at Twilight. “Is she broken?”
“Ahhhhhhhh.... CHOO!”
The sneeze was thunderous; both Twilight and Applejack jumped back, and Rarity’s end table wobbled dangerously. The room instantly lit up with a blinding flash of magical light, along with a tremendous champagne-cork POP! that shook the library to its foundations. There was an overwhelming sensation of blueberries.
On Rainbow Dash’s right foreleg, just above her hoof, a strange device had appeared.
Chapter 3: Have You Tried Turning It Off And On Again?
Twilight lowered Volume 9 of Magical Gadgets And Contraptions, glowering at Applejack. “For the fifth time, don’t poke it! We don’t know what it does!”
Applejack continued poking. “There’s writing on it! On the screen part. Maybe that can tell us how to get Dash back.”
“It” was an odd grayish metal machine, firmly strapped to Dash’s leg. Clearly it had seen better days; the casing was scratched and dented, and the part which held it to Rainbow’s leg was encrusted with organic-looking muck. The glowing green screen fizzled and popped with static.
Occasionally Twilight could see a diagram of a pony, surrounded by more of the strange alien writing. Inscrutable control buttons, in various states of grubbiness, only added to the confusion. An exploratory button press had only resulted in frantic beeping, followed by Dash staring very intently at a kitchen chair for half an hour. Otherwise, nothing seemed to rouse Dash from her glassy-eyed silence.
The very worst part of it all, Twilight reflected, was that none of the symbols appeared in The Every Language Equestrian Encyclopedia Of Everything. That was absolutely unheard of, not to mention uncivilized. The Encyclopedia even had ancient Ponish pottery symbols! She had filled twenty scraps of parchment so far trying to make a reference chart, and got practically nowhere.
“What about this one?” asked Applejack, pointing at an ominious red rectangular button just above the screen. It bore an inscrutable symbol that looked like a sewing machine being strangled by a walrus.
“No!” said Twilight, waving her notes in frustration. “No! No! Mammal-like symbols are in subgroup B! Same as the one that made Dash kick you in the face!”
Applejack relented, wincing at the memory. “OK, OK. So, what next?”
Twilight sighed, putting the book down and massaging her head with both front hooves. “Can we... let’s take a break, OK?”
Applejack nodded glumly. Rainbow drew breath again, and Twilight quickly reached for her umbrella.
At this point, it was becoming a routine. Sneeze. POP! Blueberries. A horrifyingly stinky collection of plant matter, clearly long dead, plopped on the floor several feet away. Thankfully, it hardly splattered her at all this time. Twilight put away her umbrella, and levitated the dead plant mush onto the pile. It joined an alarming, and alarmingly growing, collection of oddball junk. Each sneeze brought another random object into the library, which was quickly filling up like some kind of interdimensional waste repository.
Some items, like the plant mush, were more or less harmless. That also applied to strange technological contraptions like Dash’s leg device, and to the various smashed, rusty pieces of equipment now decorating her kitchen table. A collection of beat-up packing crates around them were practically overflowing with useless junk.
Some items were clearly weapons, with lots of pointy bits promising pain and suffering, to a degree almost inconceivable to a longtime resident of Equestria. Twilight wasn’t a military expert, but she was pretty sure the Royal Guard didn’t have anything that corkscrew-shaped in their armory.
Some items were alive, and very angry, like the collection of giant roach things which had nearly eaten them on arrival. Quick-thinking Rarity had fed them sofa cushions, long enough for Applejack to punt them into the basement. The basement door seemed to be holding for now, despite the very distracting sound of mandibles chewing through the wood.
And, finally, some items... Twilight shivered, looking at the small collection of crystal orbs at the base of the pile. She had tried levitating one when it arrived, and had been sucked into a horrifying.... vision? Dream?
Whatever it was, she never wanted to see anything like that again, as long as she lived. Ponies shouldn’t do those things to each other.
She shook her head as Rarity strode up. “Maybe there’s something else in the pile you could try?” Rarity suggested.
“I don’t... I’ve tried everything!” Twilight fumed. “None of this makes sense, and I can’t get anything out of Dash.”
“Maybe you’re not asking the right way!” chirped Pinkie Pie, bursting from one of the equipment crates.
“GAHHHH!” shouted Twilight.
"Hi Twilight!" said Pinkie chirpily, waving at her. "Hi Applejack! Hi Rarity! Hey, nice end table!"
Twilight shook her head, trying to compose herself. “How did... have you been in there this whole time?”
“Nope! I was across town and felt a super-scratchy-hoof-tingly-mane-pulling feeling! I’ve never had that before! So I asked myself, who in Ponyville would be doing something I’ve never-ever-weather-feather felt before? And I came here!”
“Pinkie,” said Twilight, holding onto her mane and sanity as hard as possible, “Please, please, please don’t touch anything.”
Pinkie theatrically held her front hooves up in the air, with an expression of exaggerated caution. “Okie lokie!”
“I mean it! Rainbow read this story, and well, now all these things are appearing, and they might even be dangerous...”
Pinkie nodded grimly, and her rear rear hooves joined her front ones in the air. Twilight tried very hard to avoid thinking about how that was possible.
“Is it OK if I just talk to Dashie?” Pinkie asked, keeping her serious face on.
“That’s fine,” said Twilight, relaxing from ‘mortal panic’ all the way down to ‘terrified apprehension’. “As long as you’re here, you may as well. Again, just don’t touch anything.”
Pinkie nodded and fired off a crisp salute, which Applejack found amusing enough to snort at. She gripped Rainbow’s head and stared into her eyes intently, from a distance of about half an inch. “HEEELLLLLOOOOO RAINBOW DASH!” declared Pinkie. “WEEEEEE MIIIIISSSSS YOOOOOOUUUUU!”
Twilight levitated one of the parchment scraps covered in her manic writing. “It’s no use, we tried that already. Look, I’ve gone over the letters on that device, and I think this is a basic reference...”
Pinkie looked up, confused. “You already tried that? You tried staring deep, deep into her eyes?”
“Well, not quite that deep, but yes.”
“And told her how you feel in a deep, slow voice?”
“Yes?”
“Twilight! I had no idea!”
Twilight shook her head. The situation was getting away from her again. “What? Look, do you...”
Pinkie raised a hoof to her face in thought. “Hmmmm.... but I bet you didn’t try everything. Do you even own a cupcake pan?”
Rainbow scrunched up her face, drawing breath. “Oh no!” moaned Twilight, reaching for the battered umbrella. “Quick, get back!”
Pinkie pulled out a worryingly large magnifiying glass from somewhere in her mane. “Don’t worry, Twilight! We just have to observe the specimen! Catch it in the act! And apply a solution!”
“Ahhhhhh.... CHOOOmmmmmppphhh!”
Twilight had never heard someone sneeze in such an offended way before. Ditching the umbrella, she boggled at the scene. Well, at least Rainbow didn’t have the vacant stare anymore. Now she was best described as “furious”.
“Hard to sneeze with a cupcake up your nose!” bounced Pinkie.
“She’s talkin’ again!”Applejack shouted, practically jumping for joy. “Now what langauge is that?”
“Maybe old Equuish?” Twilight mused, magically reaching out for the card catalog again. “Or a regional Ponish dialect?”
“I said,” Rainbow Dash repeated, scraping the frosting off her face, “get that damn thing out of my nose! That’s real torture, you know. What are you, Enclave or something? You’re lucky I don’t kneecap you.”
Applejack let out a sigh of relief. “Well, I guess that’s progress, of some kind anyhow.”
“It still doesn’t tell us why this is happening in the first place,” observed Twilight.
“Maybe it’s allergies!” Pinkie chipped in.
“The only thing I’m allergic to is lack of ammunition!” said Rainbow, grinning broadly. “Speaking of which, you have any? No caps on me at the moment, but I’m good for it.” She fiddled with the leg-device. “Hmmm, not much of anything on me. Hey, where did my inventory go?”
Twilight’s eyes went wide. “Inventory? Oh no. No.” Her voice shook, as she collected her notes in a whirlwind of magic. “I think... I think I know what’s happening.”
Applejack frowned. “Mind explaining it to the rest of us?”
Twilight sat down heavily, shoulders slumping. “Rainbow Dash is a pegasus pony. Her magic has to do with flying, weather, clouds... not unicorn tasks like conjuring. And definitely not summoning. That means it’s not her bringing those objects into our universe.”
“The book,” said Rarity, stepping down off her end table again. Twilight nodded and levitated over the evil volume. She ruffled through the pages.
They were all blank.
“It’s the story,” said Twilight softly. “It’s jumped into her mind, and it’s acting through her somehow. I don’t know why it’s linked to sneezing... maybe she sneezed while reading? Ugh, this makes no sense! And it’s all my fault!”
Twilight sank down onto the floor, hooves over her head. “I messed everything up, and hurt one of my friends!” Rarity patted her awkwardly in a there-there way.
“And I put Equestria in danger! And the Princess is coming and she’ll find out! She’ll send me to live with the Diamond Dogs! And I’ll have to leave Ponyville and I’ll never see my friends again and...”
“Now that’s enough!” said Applejack firmly, stomping for emphasis. Twilight lifted her head from her hooves, eyes bloodshot. Applejack smiled down at her. “Things are goin’ wrong today, but you are not alone in this. Now look, we’re all here to help, but you have to tell us what to do. Starting with Rainbow. How do we fix this?”
Twilight nodded weakly, and sat up. “I think, if we can keep her from... summoning... for a couple hours, the magic will settle down. Then I can do a memory spell and move the story back into the book.” And then throw it into a volcano, she thought.
“Good,” said Applejack. “That’ll give you and the Princess some time to talk.” Twilight looked horrified. “I can’t have tea with the Princess while one of my friends is in danger! What kind of pony would that make me?”
“The kind who honestly explains what happened,” said Applejack, frowning, “and asks for some royal advice before diggin’ around in her friend’s mind.”
Twilight nodded glumly. “Dash, I...”
“I’m good,” said Rainbow Dash, still fiddling with the device on her foreleg. “Wow, super low radiation. You go on and have your tea party or whatever. I think my, uh, allergy is passing so I’ll just hang out.”
“That settles it,” said Applejack, with a tone of finality. “I think the three of us should to be able to help one pegasus pony with her sneezing problem. For a couple hours, at least. It’s not like she’s coming up with anything really dangerous anyhow.”
There was a skittering, scratching noise from the basement door. Rarity shivered. “What happens to the, er, things she summoned? Will they go back too?” Twilight shook her head. “I don’t think so. The Law Of Magical Conservation says... well... basically whatever the story brings into our world, whatever it changes, is likely to be permanent. Which is why it’s really, really, important that we keep this under control.”
Applejack nodded. “No sneezing. Got it. We’re here to help. Isn’t that right, girls?”
“Absolutely, darling,” said Rarity. “We’re here for you.”
“We’ll make it a party!” bounced Pinkie. “A magical-allergy-recovery party! With cake!”
“No hostiles on my E.F.S.,” offered Dash.
Twilight finally cracked a smile. I’m with my friends, she thought. Things may be tough, but we’ll get through it together.
And to her credit, everything did in fact go smoothly, until the alligator arrived.
Chapter 4: This Would Never Happen If Ducks Had Guns
“I’m sorry!” wailed Fluttershy, hovering behind the chandelier. Propelled by Twilight’s aura, another chair sailed gracelessly through the air and smashed to pieces on the creature’s face. “It showed up in Mrs. Quackerfoot’s pond! I think it followed me here!”
Twilight averted her eyes as the fourth bookcase crashed to pieces under a scaly, armored tail. The alligator had demolished most of the Romance and Historical Fiction sections, and was getting dangerously close to Political Science. A number of angry ducks were still hanging on, bills rising and falling on its rotting tumorous hide as they pressed their assault.
It didn’t seem to notice. Even worse, the library was running low on chairs.
“I can’t get it!” shouted Applejack, grimly hanging on to the alligator’s back. So far her lasso work had only succeeded in tying its mouth shut. Rope flew as she struggled to bind its stubby but powerful legs. The alligator gave a tremendous lurch and rolled over, dislodging the ducks and pitching Applejack headfirst into the main circulation desk. With a sad crunch the desk collapsed in a snowstorm of receipts, library cards, stamps, and paper clips.
The alligator rounded on her, but received a tremendous nose-pummeling from a book stamp held in a light blue aura. “Get back, you horrible reptile!” shrieked Rarity, levitating a swarm of library supplies. A machine-gun stream of bookends forced it to retreat. “I have two more boxes of these! And I’m not particular as to where I stick them!”
To make matters worse, in the excitement Rainbow Dash had started sneezing again. POP. Blueberries. Some kind of mechanical contraption drifted through the library, a tinny speaker playing martial-style music. POP. Blueberries. Pinkie chased two more of the giant roach things around the kitchen, driving them towards the basement door. She had run out of kitchen knives, and was now working her way through the spatula drawer.
There was a terrible ripping sound as the alligator forced its mouth open, tearing the rope off its snout. Freed, it snapped savagely and bore back down on Applejack, still dazed in her nest of smashed furniture.
“Hey, over here!” shouted Rainbow, giving it a buck to the side. She avoided the alligator’s crushing jaws by inches as it quickly turned and lunged at her. Just out of biting range, Rainbow squeezed her eyes shut and hovered, motionless.
She appeared to be concentrating.
Sneeze. POP. Blueberries. She quickly snatched an object from the air. It looked like a metal apple, with a fat cylindrical stem. The alligator lunged again, springing into the air, its jaws wide. With practiced ease, Rainbow tore the stem off and hurled the apple-thing into the monster’s throat. There was a wet choking sound as it swallowed, before crashing back to earth, claws scrabbling on the library floor.
Deciding the pegasus was too much trouble, it turned to face Twilight. Murder shone in its mad yellow eyes as it charged; the library floor hissed and smoked under a rain of unspeakable saliva. Twilight struggled to move, her horn sparking uselessly in terror.
I’m going to die, she thought numbly. I’m going to be eaten alive, in my own home, by a giant alligator stamped PROPERTY OF PONYVILLE LIBRARY.
Twilight shrank back as the horrible mouth opened again, displaying row upon row of stained and twisted teeth...
Now, Twilight considered herself a dedicated student. Not only had she had weaved some of the most complex spells imaginable, she had boldly explored the peaks and valleys of friendship. With her friends, she had faced down evil sorcerers, manic villains, and two-bit showmares. Once, on a secret expedition to Griffinstone, she had even helped a wayward inventor mend his airship, possibly saving the entire future of Equestria.
Nothing, in all that experience, had prepared her for the sheer ear-splitting mayhem of an exploding alligator.
Worst, trapped in the bubble-like geometry of the library it seemed to go on and on forever; an endless warm, gooey wave of pureed reptile, bouncing wetly against the bookshelves of the Travel and Languages section, before curling back to sweep across the wooden floor all the way to Young Adult Fiction. Twilight did her best to hang on to the floorboards as it thundered past.
Finally the alligator parts came to rest, and the assembled ponies waited for the ringing in their ears to subside. Dash landed and fluttered her wings, looking smug. Fluttershy bolted for the nearest open window; the distant sounds of retching drifted in. Twilight and Rarity, covered nose to tail in alligator goo, just sat quietly and dripped.
“Ha!” said Rainbow, excitedly poking at her leg-device. “That was nothing! Used that trick once in Fillydelphia, on a way bigger one. Took out half the building. I think it had been eating spark batteries.”
Twilight considered the state of the library. The new alligator-inspired paint scheme covered nearly every surface. A floating-speaker-thing hissed mechanically from the sink, where Pinkie had finally managed to drown it. One of the giant roaches dangled limply from the ceiling, impaled by a set of egg beaters, as its friends made a very noisy effort to eat their way out of the basement. The remaining piles of crystal orbs, strange smashed pieces of technology, dangerous-looking weapons, and rotting trash completed the scene.
Rarity squelched over to Twilight and gave her a comforting, if wet, hug. “My dear, there is only one option left.”
“Come clean to Princess Celestia and ask for help?”
“Well, yes. But also, plan to have your tea in the garden.”
The garden behind the library tree was small, but well-kept and drenched in leaf-dappled sunlight. Moderate Foxing, the previous librarian, had a pleasant if somewhat eccentric talent for landscaping. Neat flower beds in full bloom stretched out in parallel rows from the back door of the tree; tall hedges let in the summer breeze yet muffled the sounds of everyday life in Ponyville. Nearly every flower was attended by bees or butterflies, which flew off covered in pollen. The space was crowned by an absurdly tall and weathered garden trellis, nailed uneasily to the tree. It creaked gently as Twilight poured the Princess another cup of tea.
“Why thank you Twilight!” said the Princess, inhaling deeply and savoring the aroma. “I do love a good Darjeeling.”
Despite herself, Twilight smiled. It hadn’t been perfectly straightforward, but so far Celestia didn’t seem to pick up on anything being out of place. Thankfully she hadn’t asked why they were taking tea outdoors, or why all the library’s shades were drawn. A few minutes’ frantic scrounging had even turned up a clean tablecloth, and a selection of elderly biscuits she found in the broom closet.
The only downside was that every now and then, the sound of a snow shovel echoed faintly from within the tree. Applejack was very diligent.
“Now,” said Celestia, “returning to the topic of your last letter, I congratulate you again on having defused a conflict with the... what did you call them? The Spa Ponies?”
Twilight blushed. “It was nothing, really. Aloe just misplaced her hairbrush and, well, assumptions were made. Hardly enough for a friendship letter.”
"And by assumptions, you mean..."
"Personal judgements," replied Twilight, frowning. "Not everyone in Ponyville is fond of pegasi. I guess that includes Aloe's aunt."
Celestia nodded. "These are among the best times I can recall, but not everypony is on the same page, as it were. It must have been very hard to confront them."
Twilight nodded, and took a sip from her own teacup, trying to enjoy the fresh spring breeze despite the knot in her stomach. "I think... I think there's good in everypony. Anyone would have done the same in my place."
"Don't be too dismissive," said the Princess, smiling. "When you left Canterlot, the thought of even talking to ponies outside of your, shall we say, literary circle, would have been nearly overwhelming."
"I guess I wouldn't have seen the point," agreed Twilight.
"I am particularly glad you have chosen to make friends beyond the Bearers. Especially those who disagree with you. The most beautiful pearls are those plucked from reluctant oysters, as they say in the Grotto. Not every pony has the courage to do so."
Twilight fiddled with her lukewarm tea, and tried to concentrate on the sound of the wind in the hedges. Something was coming, she could feel it. The Princess sipped patiently as always, with that maddeningly knowing smile. Nothing could rush her.
“Now," Celestia continued, "shall we turn to the other matter?”
And there it was.
“Um, other matter?” Twilight asked, feeling flop-sweat already running down her neck.
“Twilight,” said the Princess, evenly. “The library is closed in the middle of the day, and every window shade is drawn.”
Twilight nodded shakily. “Um, right. Well... I mean, that is... what would you say if I had got into a little bit of trouble today?”
“I’d say that you’ve learned something this week after all,” said Celestia, levitating one of the biscuits. “Would you like to tell me about it?”
There was silence for a moment. In the warm sunny garden, so close to her trusted mentor, Twilight felt the knot in her stomach slowly dissolve.
“Oh, yes, Princess,” she found herself saying, in a rush. “I would very, very, very much like to talk about it. It’s kind of a long story, though. And... um, the short version is, I need help.”
Celestia nodded, still smiling that enigmatic smile. “Take your time.”
Twilight nodded, and let out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding.
As the Princess delicately nibbled on the biscuit, a few crumbs fell down to decorate the tablecloth. Twilight felt a sudden calm wash over her. The tea, the snacks, the light-but-directed conversation... after the chaos of the library, it was all falling into place. Like lining up the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle, or feeling the last thread of a difficult spell join the magical stream. With a dreamy sense of satisfaction, she levitated the platter. The platter. The one she had misplaced in the airing cupboard, where it had miraculously survived the alligator attack.
The one still bearing a single over-starched napkin, still defiantly rolled within a shining gold ring.
“Princess?” she said, beaming.
“Hmmm?” asked the Princess, still enjoying her biscuit.
Twilight met her mentor’s twinkling eyes, savoring the moment. In a few minutes, she would explain, and Celestia would help her fix everything. All was right with the world.
“Would you like a napkin?”
Celestia looked down at the table. “Oh!” she chuckled. Her horn lit up with a golden glow, and the fallen crumbs evaporated into sparkling mist.
Twilight kept smiling. Only a very, very, observant pony would have noticed the tiny twitch in her right eye, as she lowered the platter and its unused cargo back to the table. “Of course,” she said, a little too brightly. “Of course! Yes. Of course. Of course.”
“Are you all right, my faithful student?”
Twilight swallowed heavily. “Yes, Princess. Fine. I just remembered I owe Spike some rubies, actually. Absolutely everything is fine.”
From deep within the library tree, just on the edge of hearing, beneath the happy buzzing of bees and the fluttering of butterfly wings, came the faintest possible whisper. A pony with the most delicate hearing in Equestria, if pressed, might almost call it a sneeze. It was followed by the most miniscule pop, like a pixie secretly opening a cheap bottle of wine. Twilight’s ear twitched.
The Princess, however good the royal hearing was, didn’t seem to take any notice. Instead, she settled comfortably back and gave Twilight a patient look. The very look, in fact, that she had always used when the palace cookie jar was lighter than it should be, and a certain studious unicorn foal was brushing crumbs off her muzzle. And possibly explaining her theory of multidimensional chocolate vortexes.
“Princess...” Twilight began, and trailed off hopelessly. She put her head down on the crumb-free tablecloth and started a good mope.
“Again, take your time,” said Celestia, as the patient look melted into amused concern. “These biscuits are really quite excellent.” More faint sneezing issued from the library, followed by the unsettling sound of stomping hooves. Twilight’s ears wilted in depression.
“I had a special delivery today from Creased Page,” Twilight mumbled into the tablecloth. “And, well, things started going wrong almost immediately.”
Celestia smiled. “Am I to understand you have been falling into your reading?”
“Not me,” Twilight hastily added. “I’m always careful! Well, I thought I was careful. And now Rainbow... well, Rainbow seems to have been affected by the story. A bit. But I think we can fix it! I just don’t know how yet.”
“Thank you for telling me,” the Princess replied. “I’m sure we can put it right. And incidentally, this represents a major step forward for your friendship studies.”
Twilight perked up. “I... what? I put my friends in danger! I mean, nopony was hurt, exactly, but...”
Celestia nibbled the last of her biscuit, and looked straight down at Twilight. “Did you intentionally expose them to danger?”
“Well, no... I mean, I used a binding circle. But it turned out to be the wrong one, and anyway there was a mixup with the wrapping...”
“And you’ve been sitting on your hooves since it happened?” asked Celestia patiently. “Waiting for someone else to fix the problem?”
“Well, no... I, we’ve been trying to fix it ever since.”
“Because you were afraid of what I might say?”
“No,” said Twilight, surprised. “I mean, a little. Hence the garden. But I wanted to help Rainbow. I don’t want to see her like this.”
Celestia picked up her teacup, sipped delicately, and looked off into the middle distance. “Risk cannot be completely eliminated in life, Twilight. I look forward to a full explanation of what happened, of course, and I’m relieved to hear your friends are uninjured. But facing unexpected adversity is a major test of character. I am glad you worked to help your friend, and I am even more glad that having failed, you admitted what happened and asked for help.”
Twilight smiled. “Thank you, Princess. This entire day has just been awful, and I really do need help.”
“To that end,” said Celestia thoughtfully, “I am not entirely unfamiliar with the charms of a misbehaving book.”
“Thank goodness!” Twilight sighed with relief. “It’s the hardest spellcraft I’ve ever done and nothing seems to work.”
Celestia chuckled lightly. “I am no stranger to literary magic, Twilight. Why, I remember one of my younger students, early last century, managed to enchant the book we were using for story-time. Whenever I said the word ‘bunny’, a flower appeared in my mane! By the end of the book, we were practically swimming in daisies. It caused quite the commotion.” She smiled at the memory, and took another sip of her tea.
The stomping noise within the library grew louder now, clearly audible over the breezy background noises of the garden. A royal eyebrow raised playfully.
“Now, I expect Rainbow isn’t summoning daisies. What was this week’s release again? Temple Of The Sea Ponies? Are you suffering an avalanche of ancient artifacts?”
The garden suddenly seemed very hot. Twilight could feel sweat running slimily down the back of her mane. A thick, sour taste filled her mouth. The stomping sound steadily rose; it was definitely drawing closer to the garden door.
“Well, uh... I mean, Princess... the book was, actually, a little more, advanced than that, I think? And, um, there may have been some...” The stomping reached a crescendo, and the back door to the library flew open. Twilight boggled.
The thing standing in the doorway was recognizable as Rainbow Dash, but only barely. A wicked scar crossed her face, running through her left eye, covered by an eyepatch with a crudely-drawn rendition of her cutie mark. She was wearing horribly-stained armored... what was the word... barding? Nightmarish weapons poked from a dozen pockets. Her one visible eye was shining with righteous fury.
“Oh my,” said Celestia. “Was it a book about pirates?”
”YOU!” Dash shouted, pointing an armored hoof at the Princess. Twilight did her best to sink under the table, as Dash charged into the garden. Adorable woodland creatures scattered in every direction. “How DARE you show your face here!”
Celestia kept smiling. “There’s no need to be angry, my little pony.”
“No need to be angry?” hissed Dash. Twilight gripped the legs of the table, feeling faint. A collection of explosive-looking gadgets clinked worryingly, draped aound Rainbow’s barrel like a wreath. “After you abandoned us?”
“You may feel confused,” Celestia started again, patient smile undimmed, “after your little literary adventure. I understand there has been a small magical accident. Please be still and Twilight and I can reverse... can reverse...” Celestia trailed off as she finally looked past Rainbow and into the bloody chaos of the library.
Pinkie Pie smiled broadly, waving at the Princess. Applejack grinned weakly around the handle of her snow shovel, frozen in mid-scrape. And the carcass of the alligator still lay in the center of the room, entrails fanning out like octopus arms. Unspeakable goo dripped from every surface. Shrapnel and pulverized organ meat covered walls, doors, windows, and bookshelves. Not even the display stand in the center of the library had escaped unscathed, still unhelpfully offering a chance to Read About Ponyville History! From the looks of things, Ponyville history involved a surprising number of lung fragments.
Celestia looked down at Twilight, with the worst possible expression... disappointment.
“I’m sorry!” cried Twilight, still clutching the table leg for support. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! But you don’t know what she’s like! She won’t stop reading!”
Rainbow seethed. “You decided your pretty little heart couldn’t handle the war, so you dumped it on Luna! You b...”
“That’s enough,” Celestia interrupted, setting down her teacup so hard it splashed. Breathing deeply, she composed herself.
“Twilight, after cleaning up this... mess, you will spend the next six months visiting the Diamond Dog Kingdom. I expect a detailed report on their history, politics, and culture.”
Twilight hung her head. “Yes, Princess.”
Celestia gave Rainbow Dash a firm look. “As for you, my little pony, if I am not mistaken you are in dire need of a memory spell.” Her horn lit up with golden light as the spell took shape.
But Rainbow wasn’t finished, stomping closer with a furious look on her face. “You left us! You gave up and left us, and then THEY BLEW UP THE WORLD!”
Then it happened. As she stepped forward, the edge of her combat barding snagged on the weathered garden trellis. There was a horrible shrieking of rusty nails, and Twilight watched helplessly as it peeled off the library wall, collapsing into the nearest flowerbed with a solid thump. All three of them were instantly engulfed by a cloud of dry, powdery pollen.
Rainbow Dash blinked.
The entire world held its breath. Bees froze mid-buzz, and butterflies mid-flutter, in horrified fascination. A very yellow Princess stared down at Rainbow, an unreadable expression on her face. Only Twilight knew what was coming next, and did her best to squeeze another few seconds out of the table leg.
Finally....... finally............
............. finally...........
......the silence was broken.
As the garden spun, and Equestria dissolved into blueberries, Twilight mused that she had never heard a sneeze that was so earthquake-like. Or come to think of it, maybe an earthquake that sounded so sneeze-like? Despite herself, she began composing the letter in her mind. Dear Equestrian Physical Review: I have recently encountered a most interesting, if dangerous, magical phenomenon...
First good shelter for miles, I thought, crawling into the muddy darkness. Unfortunately, the radroaches nesting under the old skywagon agreed with me. One landed on my flank, and did its best to eat the hammers off my cutie mark.
A desperate blast of telekinesis sent it flying. Frantically I pulled out the rusted revolver, and without thinking, tried to enter S.A.T.S.
Bad move.
A scolding beeping noise from my wretched PipBuck filled my ears. Despite it, I struggled to aim, as the familiar DON’T PLAY WITH GUNS! message suddenly filled my E.F.S. I pulled the trigger anyway, firing blindly. Maybe the wet bullets I’d found were somehow still good? Click, the revolver answered. Click, click, click, click, click.
After a brutal few minutes, I concluded it made a passable club. If the griffins came back, at least I could chuck it at them. I bet it would leave a nasty bruise. Or if I could lure them under here, the smell might knock them out.
”There’s nothing outside the Stable,” I remembered Spark Plug saying, crumbs flying from her muzzle to decorate the cafeteria floor.
Oh, if only I had believed her. I'd be back in my bunk right now, dreaming of generator maintenance.
I waited in my muddy hole as the rain died down, trying to breathe through my mouth. It took a few hours, but slowly the pouring radioactive torrent in the street outside eased up, and what passed for daylight in the Wasteland steadily returned. Long ago, the skywagon had crashed into a fountain, at the center of a small collection of buildings. Decaying shops surrounded what must have been a nice little town square, once upon a time. No sign of the griffins.
Crawling out, I dipped a hoof in a nearby puddle, and washed the worst of the radroach debris off my face. My PipBuck’s radiation meter crept up steadily. Finally it made another disappointed beeping noise, and flashed FIND A GROWN-UP! The grown-up wearing it whacked the screen in frustration.
I considered my supply situation. I had amassed a huge collection of useful items, in the three weeks since leaving my Stable.
One PipBuck, stuck in foal mode. Check. Bent Pipe’s prank was less funny after a few weeks in hell. And after seeing her vaporized.
One torn and scorched Stable jumpsuit, bright blue with yellow trim, for extra visibility to raiders. Check.
One rusty dented revolver with no ammunition, now covered in radroach guts. Check.
Two bottle caps. Check.
And lastly, one precious item rescued from the Stable’s safe, at tremendous risk right under the noses... er, beaks, of the griffins. Check.
My PipBuck’s inventory screen helpfully informed me this item was “Magical Mystery Loot.” Or possibly the Magical Mystery Loot? Whatever that was. I took the cheerful glowing label as a sign, however weak, that someone at Stable-Tec did indeed have a sense of humor.
I shuddered as I remembered the lead griffin screaming at the Overmare. He had been furiously, psychotically, angry when he found the safe empty. But also, somehow... desperate? I wondered exactly what this thing was, that could be worth burning down an entire Stable. Maybe I never should have taken it.
I picked a direction and started walking.
Night in the Wasteland was utterly freezing. The biting wind on my face also smelled like burning electrical wiring, which wasn’t helping. I needed to find shelter soon, or things would start to get very dicey from a survival perspective. Unicorns don’t do well in the cold.
The desert stretched away in every direction, offering nothing unless I wanted to bed down inside a cactus. Even considering the smell, I started to regret leaving my roach nest in the town square.
In the distance, I spotted the glimmering light of a campfire.
It was inviting, but also made me uneasy. Fires at night drew attention. Whoever made it was probably very stupid, in which case they and I would soon be decorating the walls of a raider camp. Or they were very well armed, in which case they would steal my two bottle caps, and find me a new holster for my revolver-club.
I crept closer, trying to get a sense of which was most likely. They didn’t look like raiders. No power armor either, which was a good sign. Just a group of well-armed ponies around a campfire, a skewer of disgusting-looking meat propped up above it. I weighed my options and decided that my only real alternative was to freeze to death. At the very least, maybe I could trade the Magical Mystery Whatsit for some food.
I walked closer to the circle of firelight, trying to appear non-threatening. None of them were speaking. Despite the guns, up close they didn’t look dangerous... just very, very tired, worn out, watching the fire. The only sounds were the chemical wind and the wet dripping of roasting meat.
With a shock I realized the closest mare was a pegasus. She didn’t look like Enclave, though. The chipped rainbow paint on her battle saddle matched her mane and tail. The earth mare next to her had a similar saddle, but with two magical beam cannons in bright bubblegum pink.
The third pony was an orange earth mare wearing a battered stetson. Amazingly, her hind legs were cybernetic, the metal glinting dully in the light from the fire. They ended in razor-sharp hoofclaws that dug into the ground.
Joining her were another pegasus, butter yellow and weighed down with healing potions, and a white unicorn mare with an impossibly clean purple mane, the jeweled hilts of dozens of knives glinting from her tight-fitting black barding. And the sixth... uh...
...well, the sixth pony was a smallish mulberry-colored unicorn mare, wearing an exhausted look. Directed at me, no less.
“Oh ponyfeathers,” she groaned. The others noticed me and joined in the groaning. There may have been some exasperated wheezing and eye-rolling as well. The orange one pulled her hat down over her eyes and settled in for a nap.
This wasn’t going how I expected.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m...”
“Yes, yes,” the unicorn said, cutting me off. “Running away, are you? From some dramatic crisis? Searching for motivation? Narrowly escaped from the wreckage of such-and-such disaster?”
“My Stable,” I said, nonplussed. “Griffins burned it down. Their leader...”
“Stop!” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose with her hoof. “Look, we’ll give you some radroach leftovers, and you can stay by the fire until morning. Then go north to Iron Ridge and check into the lodging house at the bottom of the hill. Ask for Madame X. She’ll introduce you to a lovable cast of characters and you’ll have a grand adventure, learn about yourselves and others, and serve as a small flickering light in the darkness of the Wasteland.”
I stared at her. “That’s very specific.”
She glared back. “You’re the fifth hero we’ve had tonight.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I nodded. In the flickering firelight, we regarded each other for a moment, as heroic wandering souls in the Wasteland often do.
“Stop regarding me,” she hissed. “You’re only doing that because the story’s spell matrix got twisted.”
“Sorry.”
She snorted, turning back to the fire. “Well, anyway, have some roach. Congratulations, we saved the antennae just for you.”
“Thanks,” I managed, trying not to vomit. “Anyway, I don’t want you to think I’m freeloading, so I’m happy to chip in...”
“That isn’t necessary.” she said, slicing off a nauseatingly juicy antenna.
“Really, I insist,” I said, pulling out the Magical Mystery Thingamajig. “Here, this should be worth something.”
She froze, staring at it, dropping the roach pieces in the dirt. Despite myself, I felt my stomach rumble.
I swallowed nervously. “Are you OK? I mean, I don’t mind...” I took a step back as she charged up her horn.
Have you ever seen battle magic? It’s very pretty up close. But also very, very, very, loud.
Drawing on my extensive Wasteland combat experience, I dodged and weaved expertly to avoid her furious magical blasts, smoothly putting distance between us until her yowling fury faded into the wind. To be very clear, I absolutely did not run away screaming like a foal with my saddlebags flapping everywhere, and I was not narrowly saved from vaporization when she tripped over a rock.
As I ran for my life, back into the freezing darkness of the Wasteland’s expanse, I mentally kicked myself for getting involved with them in the first place. Walking up to a campfire! I must be crazy. No, that unicorn was crazy, and her friends too. Too many Party-Time Mint-Als. Or maybe they were just garden-variety Dash-heads, constantly riding the edge of insanity.
Why else would she react that way to a shiny gold ring?
