> Days of Wasp and Spider
>  by Luna-tic Scientist
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> 01 - Pony in a Particle Accelerator
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider

by
Luna-tic Scientist

Preread by IcehawkPrime and mm1145.
All the good stuff is theirs, everything else is mine.

A note to the new reader:
This is book one in a two or three book series. Book two is currently being written.

===

At the smallest possible scale order was born from the chaos, a self maintaining Pattern impressed on the structure of eleven dimensional space-time. The Pattern was aware of itself, its surroundings and the passage of time. The chaos was an erosive force on the Pattern, a constant threat to its existence and a steady, irreversible drain on its strength. It sought an escape from the inevitable and after an endless time -- almost a whole microsecond -- the Pattern had learnt to affect its surroundings. An increasingly complex series of manipulations were applied, results interpreted and further experiments followed.

After another eternity there was success; one of its operations created a fundamental change in space-time, a self-contained bubble protected from the chaos, yet powered by it. With a final effort the Pattern injected itself through the event horizon and into the infinitely calm spaces beyond. Here it could cease its fight and direct all its efforts to discovery. 

=== Chapter 1 (remastered): Pony in a Particle Accelerator ===

"The pony will stand on the pad."

The rough voice echoed from the white ceramic walls in the beam chamber. Fusion Pulse, her fur a blinding white in the high output lamps, stood uncertainly in the radiation lock's exit and squinted into the glare. With a toss of her head and a touch of magic from her horn, she pulled her pink mane over her eyes to block a little of the light. Then, ruffling her wings, Fusion trotted towards the circle marked in metal on the floor. Behind her, the heavy rotating drum of the radiation lock swung shut, sealing off her exit with a hollow boom and making her jump. The tattoo of her hooves slowed and became hesitant as she took in the heavy machines hanging from the ceiling, the scorch marks on the rear wall. The voice of the Master commanded unquestioning obedience, though; she could no more resist than she could hurt her own sister.

She stepped across the metal ring and placed her hooves onto the marked areas, slight indentations in the otherwise smooth floor. Head swinging from side to side she caught sight of that scorch mark again; from this angle it almost looked like... The mare's eyes widened and she slowly turned her head forward again to stare at the complex shape of the beam pipe terminus, pointed squarely at her chest. 

"W-What do you want me to do, Academician Vanca?" Fusion Pulse's voice was soft and melodic, but the microphones in the ceiling picked up her whisper and her voice echoed back from the polished walls. She glanced up, catching a glimpse of her Master behind the long row of control room windows that ran along the top edge of the beam chamber. The sight calmed her, incipient panic draining away with the knowledge that this was something the Academician thought she could do. The figure turned away, taking with it Fusion's fragile confidence.

"The pony will use her magic as trained to neutralise the heavy ion beam."

"Yes, Master." Fusion Pulse swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.

She had trained for this, but that was on one of the compact, room sized cyclotrons -- not the five kilometre injector ring of the Lacunae Hive's research accelerator. Ahead of her, the end of the beam pipe was a mirrored circle surrounded by coils of dark wire and a helical pattern of blood red crystals. Around her a gauzy field of light sprang up from the perimeter of the metal ring, a momentary static thrill dancing over her skin and making her flanks twitch and shiver. The overly bright lights blurred through the field, splitting into brilliant rainbows and making her eyes water. Fusion shook the tears from her eyelashes, then pulled her pink mane back from her horn and lowered her head.

The ruby helix started to pulse, flashes of red light spiralling in towards the central mirror. A pulsing vibration crept up through Fusion's hooves, some distant monster stomping towards her in time with the lights. She lowered her head and narrowed her eyes, wisps of light starting to run from her forehead to collect at the point of her horn. Within seconds her horn's glow became blinding, an actinic white casting midnight black shadows even under the lab's lighting. 

"I'm ready."

A bar of solid light jumped the gap between the beam pipe terminus and Fusion Pulse in an instant, hit the glow around her horn and fragmented into a writhing mass of electric snakes. Lightning bounced between the shield and Fusion's flanks, lifted the hair of her mane and danced along her wings' primary feathers. Fusion's eyes squeezed shut and she gasped at the sudden pressure across every part of her body. A loud buzzing hiss filled the air.

"Beam current at 0.1%. Beginning experiment series."

Through her tightly closed eyes the light flared brighter still, a hot pink glare with an irregular stroboscopic flicker. The electric hiss became deafening, and Fusion plastered her ears against the sides of her head in an effort to keep out the rising noise. Sweat beaded on her flanks and belly as the pressure abruptly doubled and doubled again. Pain started to build at the base of her skull and she clenched her teeth.

The voice continued to speak, but Fusion Pulse couldn't hear it. Her body felt like it was being squeezed in a form-fitting vice, her head like it was going to explode. Sweat ran down her flanks, dripping from the ridge of longer hairs in the middle of her chest and belly, but vaporised before it could reach the floor. Her mind was in a red haze of pain, her consciousness shrunk down to a single point of will and determination. An eternity later the pressure ebbed away, the sudden silence and darkness as shocking as a blow to the head.

"The tests are complete. The pony will return to her corral." The rough voice held no emotion, just a cool disinterest.

"T-Thank you, Academician." Fusion's voice was a harsh, ragged whisper, barely recognisable.

"The pony will return tomorrow for the next experiment."

"Yes, Academician." Fusion's voice steadied, still sounding like her throat was full of sand, as she sank to her haunches. A sudden line of fire cut across her belly, the sharp smell of burning fur filling her nostrils. She twitched, uncertain of the source of the pain, then her hooves scrabbled to find purchase on the slick floor. She rose, slipped again to score another burning line across her left flank, before beating her wings in two quick strokes to lurch clear of the unexpectedly hot metal ring. Rubbing a forehoof across her belly, she shook the tears from her eyes and walked, head bowed, to the lab door.

===

The radiation locks at the Anomalous Physics Research Institute were all of the same design. Take a cylinder and cut archways on opposite sides. Make a second cylinder from concrete and laminate it with boron, lead and a carefully designed array of magically active gems, then place it inside the first, but this time only make one opening. Let the inner ring rotate to line its opening up with the ones in the outer wall, but only ever one at any time.

Fusion stood at the centre of the radiation lock, eyes closed, while the wall rotated around her. The few moments of relative peace let her get her breath back, although her legs and wings were starting to tremble with delayed shock. Finally, the single opening lined up with the exit tunnel and she was free to leave. Breathing deeply once she opened her eyes and limped out of the door and over to the alcove used to store personal items forbidden in the beam chamber. On one shelf was a half hoof wide brass disk inlayed with a matte silver square and a single small crystal.

The white mare stared at the device for a second, a fog of fatigue obscuring the thing's purpose.  She shook her head slightly to clear it, then reached out with her magic to pick it up. A sharp pulse of pain filled her head, blurring her vision and making her gasp in shock. The disk fell out of her grasp, tumbling to the floor with a sudden loud rattle. Tentatively Fusion tried again; she could feel the thing where it rested, but the instant she tried to apply any real force to it the pain in her head built up with astonishing speed.

Fusion stared down at it for a breath; she couldn't leave it here, this was her communicator. Keyed into her biothaumetic signature and linked to the Hive labour system, it was hers and hers alone. All ponies outside foalhood had one -- it was the conduit for the Master's work orders while protecting them against conflicting requests. Failure to carry it at all times was unthinkable. Another stab of pain and she gave up trying to pick the thing up by magic. Have I hurt myself that badly? she thought, swallowing hard. She'd heard the horror stories; ponies burnt out from too much effort reporting for euthanisation, rather than live in the knowledge of being useless to the Masters.

She stamped one forehoof impatiently. Nonsense! The Masters knew what she was capable of; they'd never needlessly hurt her. A good night's sleep and I'll feel much better. She pawed the communicator a couple of times, nudging it against another hoof to flip it hook side uppermost. Reaching down she closed her eyes again as her vision blurred and her head swam, feeling for the disk with her lips. Carefully picking it up, she pressed it against the fur at the top of her left foreleg. It wasn't in the right place -- there was no way she could get it to the middle of her chest -- but the fuzz of tiny hooks gripped securely anyway, and she immediately felt more comfortable. 

The gem flickered and flashed in her peripheral vision and a quiet bleep sounded in Fusion's head without needing to go through her ears. 

# Authorised disconnection period ended. Fusion Pulse TC4668 registered to APRI labornet. Accessing work list and standing orders. #

Fusion let her breath hiss out from between her teeth and relaxed as the familiar litany rolled over her, but the small feeling of victory faded quickly to leave a nagging worry of failing her Master tomorrow. Turning carefully, she started limping up the curved equipment transport tunnel ramp to the surface. What would have been a half kilosecond trot seemed to stretch out forever, the slick floor playing havoc with her imperfect balance. The movement did help steady Fusion's nerves, though, overwhelming her fears with the more mundane demands of the body, stressed muscles twitching and shivering in protest. Ahead, a door opened in the side of the tunnel, a blunt head poking round the edge to look at her.

"The pony will stop." Another rough voice, this one at a slightly higher pitch.

Fusion tottered to a halt, legs slightly splayed and head drooping, as the bipedal figure stepped out into the tunnel. It didn't bulk as large as Academician Vanca, but still stood head and shoulders above her on back-cranked digitigrade legs. Covered with coarse grey and black fur, the creature wore a tan waistcoat layered in bulging pockets and had heavily muscled and disproportionately long arms reaching almost to its knees. Its head was more like that of a dog than a pony; the eyes faced fully forward and the jaw split the muzzle all the way back to the throat. Mobile, triangular ears and a stubby tail furthered that dog-like impression.

Paws ending in curved claws lifted her drooping wings, little pinpoints of sensation making her flank twitch as the sharp tips traced the line of burnt hair under the curve of her belly. The figure grunted and stepped back, gripped Fusion's muzzle in one hard hand and lifted it to study her face, moving her head from one side to the other to stare into each bloodshot lavender eye. 

Fusion stared dully back at the yellow slit pupiled eyes of the Master, his blunt muzzle slightly open to reveal a row of sharp teeth. With a sigh and a waft of carnivore breath he released her jaw and stepped back. 

"This pony is in no condition to continue with these experiments. Korn thinks this pony requires several hundred kiloseconds of rest before continuing."

Fusion opened her mouth to thank the Master, but in that instant of treacherous thought a sudden sharp spike of pain pulsed in her chest. She snapped her mouth shut and the pain disappeared. Taking a deep breath she started again.

"I'm sorry, Student Korn. Academician Vanca has ordered my return tomorrow."

Korn stared at her for an age, triangular ears flattening. "What are this pony's current orders?"

"I am to return to Lacunae Hive corral twenty seven, then return to the Institute tomorrow. No time was specified, so I will be present at dawn." Fusion froze as Korn grunted again and started to walk around her, his muzzle wrinkling in what could only be disgust. She schooled her expression into one of blank obedience, but every breath brought with it the sweat-and-burned-fur scent of her weakness. Something broke deep inside and tears started to prick at the corners of her eyes. Little flickers of pain, like the kneading claws of a cat, danced in her chest and it became hard to breathe, the ache only subsiding after she managed to push the idea of failure away.

Korn paused in his circuit, reaching out to run a claw along the burnt tips of her wing's primary feathers. "Can this pony still fly?"

Fusion Pulse hesitated for a second and flexed her wings. They trembled slightly at full extension, the now ragged primaries feeling loose and failing to bite the air as they should. She felt slightly sick; it was forty kilolengths -- forty thousand times the height of a typical Master -- back to the corral, a bit less than two kiloseconds by wing... considerably longer by hoof. Dawn was only thirty six kiloseconds away. She'd never make it. Her eyes widened; for the first time in her life she was going to fail to obey a direct order... she shied away from the thought, but the pain came anyway.

"I'm not certain, Student Korn," Fusion whispered through gritted teeth, then let her jaw unclench as the Maker's pain faded with unexpected speed into the background ache that seemed to come from every part of her body.

"Korn is. If this pony follows these orders it will be dead in less than fifty kiloseconds. This pony is no use to the Hive dead. Korn will talk to the Academician." 

The Master prodded at a crystal encrusted bracer on his left wrist, the gems glowing momentarily with each tap. With a quiet hum and the pulsing strobe of safety lights a cargo floater came down the tunnel, the smooth floor glowing from the lifter crystals. The thing was about as basic as you could get; a square metal platform studded with tie-downs and a control post at one corner. 

"The pony will lie on the floater. Korn will transport you back to the corral." Korn pointed at the centre of the square, then turned and walked back through the door he'd entered. 

The platform dipped slightly as Fusion Pulse stepped awkwardly up and settled carefully down on her belly. The surface was cold and the tie-downs dug into her ribs, but at that moment it felt as good as the softest grass. She settled her head down between her forelegs and closed her eyes for a second.

===

Fusion Pulse woke to the sound of shouting and her mane and tail whipping over her back and face in a high velocity slipstream. Her eyes went wide and her head jerked up and to each side as she tried to understand where she was. Some thin cord had been passed over her shoulders, back and haunches, and was cutting off the circulation to her wing roots. Her struggles only seemed to draw the cord tighter, so she stopped and tried to think. The wind, the darkness overhead only broken by a glow from beneath the mesh floor she was tied to. She was on the cargo platform, tied down and travelling somewhere backwards at high speed. Now she had relaxed she could make out the argument going on level with her hindquarters. 

"...misuse of the subjects will not achieve the results Vanca desires. Korn knows you do not have permission to euthanize this servitor." Another light source, this one much fainter, was coming from the same direction as the voices.

"Student Korn--" The emphasis on the first word was clear even over the wind."--would do well to remember who this one is. This project has been given the highest priority by the Synod, the threat from Baur Hive..."

"Korn knows this. Korn also knows that this servitor's initial test results are the best ever seen. Killing the servitor by progressing too fast will damage the project far more than allowing it to recuperate. Has Vanca reviewed the medical scans Korn took after the experiments?"

"Vanca is aware of Korn's opinion. Korn should also remember he is a thaumophysicist, not a veterinarian."

"Then perhaps Korn should send the data to Councillor Indutu. He is sure that the Councillor has someone on his staff able to give Vanca a second opinion." 

There was a long period of silence before Vanca spoke again; this time her tone was icily calm. Fusion trembled inside, even though that voice wasn't addressing her.

"Kord will regret those words. Very well, deliver the servitor to its kin; Vanca will send a veterinary unit to verify Korn's claims. Korn better hope he is correct."

The glow faded and Fusion lowered her head back to her knees. She could hear the Master move, his weight causing the platform to shift and dip slightly. A heavy, clawed foot landed next to her head, then with surprising gentleness a paw lifted her pink mane from her face. The Master examined her with narrowed eyes, then ran a small, glittering crystal over her horn. A flickering display sprang up over his bracer, a helical pattern shot through with fine black lines like a frozen lightning bolt. 

"The pony will not attempt to perform any magic..." The instrument moved along the leading edge of her right wing. "...or fly. Complete rest is ordered for at least four hundred kiloseconds." The Master shifted back to face the mare, then did something to his bracer and showed her the first image. "This pony has nanoscale stress fractures in its cranial and wing thaumotological emitters. Further use risks complete failure." The Master's cheeks twitched in a rare grin. "This pony does not want this to happen during the next experiment."

Fusion Pulse's mind flicked back to the scorch marks on the rear wall of the beam dump chamber, ears involuntarily flattening against the sides of her skull.

"No, Student Korn, but I cannot disobey a lawful order."

Korn grunted and sat back on his haunches, stubby tail hooked around one leg. "The pony will not worry about that. Vanca will change her mind after the veterinarians have seen what Korn has seen."

===

Fusion Pulse shook her head, flicking her mane back over her neck. The platform had come to a halt high over the darkened countryside; the sun, Celestia, had long set and the cloudless sky was a pitch black dome with only the scattered points of the debris ring to give any frame of reference. The pale light of Grund gave a vague shape to the landscape, but was too small to do much more; Luna, the larger of the two shepherd moons was yet to rise. Right in front of Fusion the ring light was interrupted by the hulking mass of Lacunae Hive. A wide, flat topped mountain that occupied three hoof spans even at this distance, it glowed faintly under the light of an orbital heliostat. Directly below the platform was an area of open grassland, dotted with the vague dark shapes of mature trees and a cluster of circular roofed areas. Bright flashes from the platform's safety lights illuminated a steadily shrinking area as the platform descended to one red and white striped shelter.

Fusion could see the pale shapes of many ponies moving about the corral, obviously woken by the lights of the floater. Directly below were three ponies, two large and one smaller, waiting on the grass by the open sided structure. All looked nervous and worried as they stared up at the platform, faces flashing alternately white and various shades of green as the vehicle hovered above them. Both adult ponies then lit their horns, illuminating a cleared area for the floater as it settled slowly to the ground.

One of the adults stepped hesitantly forward, his wings twitching with the desire to enfold the battered form tied to the platform. 

"How may we be of service, Master?" said the pale turquoise stallion in a deferential voice. He kept his head lowered, but was studying the singed white shape intently through the fringe of his blue mane. 

"This one is Student Korn. These ponies are the family unit of Fusion Pulse?"

"Yes, Student Korn. I am Helium Flash, her male gamete donor and this is Plasma Cascade, her female gamete donor." Helium nodded to the cream mare with a red mane and tail, then indicated with one wing to a slightly smaller dusky blue pony hiding behind Plasma. "This is Gravity Resonance, from our second procreation license."

Korn turned back to Fusion Pulse and started to untie her from the platform. "This pony was injured during its work at the Institute. A veterinarian team will examine it and report back to the Academician, but Korn expects it will need at least four hundred kiloseconds of complete abstinence from thaumatological manipulation."

Fusion twitched in protest at that last statement, but said nothing as she waited for the Master to release her. Finally the last strap was released and she struggled to rise, muscles numb from the awkward position she'd been forced to lie in.

"Pony, assist your offspring."

Helium Flash was already stepping forward, a pale blue-green glow emanating from his horn and covering Fusion's body. "Thank you, Student Korn." Fusion went limp as she was lifted from the platform, legs dangling. As she was swung over, Plasma Cascade rushed up, concern on her face.

"Daughter, are you alright?" She stole a quick glance at Korn, but directed her question at the floating mare. "What happened?"

Fusion cleared her throat, voice still scratchy. "Yes, mother." Her eyes filled up with tears. "Oh mother, I'm so sorry. I wasn't good enough, I've failed you. I failed them." Her head drooped, tears running down her muzzle and dripping on the grass.

"No, daughter," Plasma replied, her voice soft. She raised a hoof and gently lifted Fusion's head. "You are a wonderful pony, you could never disappoint me." She cast a pleading glance at the Master.

Korn sighed and shifted position. "The pony Fusion Pulse has shown exceptional ability. It is possible that Academician was a little... enthusiastic for results."

Helium Flash lowered his daughter to the ground, maintaining his magic as her legs buckled, unable to take her weight. He leant forward to nuzzle her mane back from her face, then whispered in her ear. "Rest, daughter, we'll talk in the morning." He turned his head to the Master. "Thank you, Student Korn. What are your orders?"

"A veterinary unit will arrive shortly to examine the pony Fusion Pulse and assess its injuries. We will wait."

Helium bowed to the Master and opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a pair of ponies flying low over the corral. They circled once, flared their wings and cantered up to the little group. The leader, a slender crimson stallion with a bone white mane and a pony skull labour tattoo on his hind quarters, stepped forward and bowed to the Master.

"Student Korn? I am Animal Scanner and this is Gamma Knife." The other stallion, gold coated with an orange mane and tail, nodded politely to Korn. "We have been ordered by Academician Vanca to assess the pony Fusion Pulse's capacity for duty." 

He was reaching into his equipment harness before Korn could reply, producing a flat slab of an instrument studded with various crystals. This he then pointed at Fusion, gesturing to Gamma Knife to lift the mare into a semblance of a standing position. Animal's horn glowed a deep red, generating a plane of crimson light that swept up and down her body.

Fusion felt none of this, her exhaustion and the subconscious security of being back home conspiring to send her to a sleep so deep that even the harsh tones of Academician Vanca only woke her briefly.

> 02 - A Day in the Life of the Average Pony 
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist

===

The Pattern had created the bubble's interior with an agreeably high energy level and basked in the electromagnetic glow, the gentle tickle of particle pair formation a restful sensation throughout its volume. While the Pattern rebuilt its strength it examined the space it had created; the subtle shift in dimensions and orders of magnitude reduction in temperature had allowed the formation of particles it had only theorised. These massive things exhibited startling behaviours the Pattern had never seen in all its previous existence. All of their own accord they were grouping together into clusters, then clusters into larger groups, before finally attracting yet another kind of particle to orbit around them. The Pattern grew interested with this new area of research and started to modify some of the fundamental constants; it was possible to build many more than the two basic types of these... atoms than the universe wanted to form from the original quark-gluon plasma.

The vast cloud of the atoms coalesced as space-time expanded and cooled. The Pattern made more adjustments -- this time temporary changes to the local strength of gravity -- and induced the cloud to collapse into a tight ball of hot rock surrounded by a layer of gas. Cooling gradually, the planet floated alone in its dark pocket universe, orbited by a ring of rubble that had almost escaped its influence. On the surface some of the gas had condensed into a fluid phase with intriguing properties, loaded with a variety of atoms linked in simple, yet interesting, ways.

=== Chapter 2 (remastered): A Day in the Life of the Average Pony ===

Fusion Pulse awoke to brilliant sunshine lancing in through the open sides of the corral shelter, a stabbing pain at the base of her horn bringing her to instant wakefulness. She lay partly on her right side, legs curled under her left wing. Something warm and soft lay nestled against her neck and upper back. Fusion blinked, rolled her eyes down to see a fringe of dusky blue feathers extending across her withers, shoulder and upper neck. She felt the soft thing squirm a little closer, primary feathers rustling as the wing stretched slightly. Fusion squinted against the bright light and tucked her head in a little; closing her eyes again she went to sleep under her sister's sheltering wing.

When Fusion awoke for the second time the sun had moved a third of the way round the sky and her sister had gone. She shifted her weight slightly and discovered her right wing had gone numb and most of her muscles failed to respond with anything but complaints. Her sharp in-drawing of breath drew her sister at a trot, wood chips flying from her hooves as she entered the shelter.

"Give me a hoof up will you, Grav? Wing's gone to sleep and I'm aching all over," Fusion said, clearing her throat.

"Sure thing, sis." A haze of navy magic, almost invisible in the light diffusing through the corral shelter's translucent roof, cradled her like a soft, form fitting pillow and lifted her to a standing position. "How are you feeling? You looked pretty bad when the Master brought you in."

A sudden flash of panic made Fusion wobble and she would have collapsed without her sister's quick reactions. Late! I'm supposed to be at the... wait, that order had been rescinded. Sighing with relief, she remembered the medical inspection from the night before and Academician Vanca's sour-faced agreement with Student Korn's assessment of her state. The Masters were good and kind to forgive her weakness; she'd have another chance to prove herself worthy. Her stomach rumbled and she was suddenly aware of how hungry she was.

"That sounded like a good sign. Want some breakfast -- no it's a bit late for that -- an early lunch?" Gravity grinned at Fusion.

"Oh yes, I'm starving!" Not just hungry, she realised, but feeling that special craving that only the Master's food could fully quench.

"I'll get it; you have a bit of a walk to ease those aching muscles."

Fusion watched as Gravity turned and walked away, her eyes suddenly going wide.

"When did you get that!" she said, gesturing with her horn at the inky black patch with pale crescent shape on Gravity's hindquarters.

"You like it? Just a couple of days ago." Gravity swayed to one side so Fusion could see the matching mark on her other hip.

Fusion stared at her sister's labour tattoo with a little bit of jealousy. So soon! She didn't have hers yet, and she was a year older than Gravity. The envy quickly passed, replaced with sadness that she'd missed the event and curiosity as to how it had happened. Gravity came back from the corral's facilities hub with a shallow bowl full of brown pellets and clipped it at chest height to a near-by roof pillar.

"You eat, I'll talk," she said with a grin.

Fusion nodded and gingerly stepped over to the bowl. Taking her first mouthful -- the food supplied by the Masters was nutritious but a little bland -- she rolled one eye in Gravity's direction as her sister began to talk.

"You know I've been going through remote manipulation training? Well, I'd been doing so well that my Master decided I could try my hooves at something a little bigger, so she showed me to a remote viewer and said I should try and move the spot of light."

"What, without actually seeing it properly?" Fusion mumbled around a mouthful of pellets.

Gravity nodded vigorously. "Weird huh? I don't know anypony able to do that -- not without being very familiar with whatever it was, anyway. Obviously if a Master says you can do something, you know you can." Gravity was hopping from hoof to hoof now, caught up in the excitement of her own story. "Turns out the remote viewer was this weird old thing with mirrors and lenses rather than a clairvoyance rig or electronic camera, and I could feel that point of light when I concentrated. It was really hard to do -- but when I pushed it the light moved! Then there was this funny tingling on my haunches and I had my labour tattoo. My Master laughed and said she knew she'd made the right decision."

Fusion stopped chewing for a second, swallowed, and turned her head to look at Gravity with both eyes. "You were always good at remote handling; I'm really pleased for you. Jealous, but pleased."

"Ah don't worry, sis, I know you'll get yours soon. I mean, these things the Masters have you doing look really hard -- and I know they wouldn't ask you if they didn't think you could do it."

"You're right, of course." Fusion chased the last few pellets round the bowl then looked back at Gravity with a frown. "Did the Master tell you what that thing was you moved?"

"She said it was in the debris ring, some dead satellite or something," Gravity called over her shoulder as she turned to rummage through the cold store in the wall of the facilities hub. Various fruits, vegetables and leaves were selected then cut, dressed and arranged on a wide shallow tray. "Ready for some real food?" 

===

Fusion spent the rest of the morning alternately dozing, eating and walking stiffly around the square kilolength of the corral's grassland borders. She had a vague hope of bumping into her friends, Packet Switcher or Random Walk, but deep down knew this was pretty unlikely. At this time of day the settlement was very quiet. Packet would probably be somewhere at the reactor complex -- he'd just started an apprenticeship -- while Random would be down at the communal exercise and testing centre with all the other yet to be assigned ponies. 

A sudden rush of air and flicker of shadow made Fusion flinch, derailing her line of thought. Looking up, she saw a brief glimpse of a dark grey belly as a pony swooped by only a bodylength over her head. The figure made a clumsy landing, stumbling and almost going muzzle first into the grass, then turned to face a surprised Fusion. The pony was a mare, coat not really grey but so dirty that she was of no identifiable colour, her close cropped mane and tail plastered with dust and matted to the point you couldn't even see the individual hairs.

"You! What's your name?" The voice was harsh and trailed off into a hacking cough. The mare worked her throat and spat something dark and gritty looking onto the grass, then trotted up to Fusion with an uneven gait.

"F-Fusion Pulse TC4668," Fusion recited automatically. "What happened, are you okay?"

"No time, I have new orders for you." The mare reached forward and tapped Fusion's communicator disk with one grubby hoof. "I commandeer you under the emergency requisition rules, you will follow me--" She was interrupted by a flash of red light from the gem at the centre of Fusion's communicator and a synthesized voice in the back of both ponies' heads.

"Permission denied. This servitor is under medical supervision orders, Council level clearance required to override."

"By the Maker! Is there anypony else here I can talk to?"

"It's mid shift, just about everypony is working. There are the teachers...?"

The mare shook her head vigorously. "No, I need fit ponies."

"Ah! On the north side of the corral there's a work crew clearing one of the orchard groves."

The mare nodded gratefully, then turned her back on Fusion, crouched and spread her wings in preparation for takeoff. 

"Wait, what's happened?" Fusion cried.

The mare leapt into the air with a mighty downstroke, then shouted back to Fusion. "Accident, reactor seventeen blew. Still searching for survivors."

Fusion stared after the rapidly shrinking shape, shivered, then turned to walk back to her family's shelter. Half way back Fusion slowed her already pedestrian gait and chewed her lip. Reactor seventeen. Packet, a sturdy lemon stallion with a grey and silver mane, was apprenticed to the power distribution centre attached to... She wracked her memory for anything on the layout of the reactor complex... where was that power centre? How many ponies had been hurt -- surely he wouldn't have been near the containment vessel? At least her own father, Helium Flash, was working on number fourteen. That was on the opposite side of the complex, but...

Fusion brought her wings forward and vigorously rubbed the wrist joints across her face, the bone hard under the layer of tiny leading edge feathers. No, the centre was half a kilolength from the six reactors that encircled it; layer upon layer of concrete, composites and magical shielding protecting the central warren of superconducting cables. Unless... had the reactor scrammed as it was supposed to? What if the first set of failures had cascaded down the complex chain of support systems? The energy in the magnetic torus could have been dumped into the momentum extractor, rather than being bled away into the core of soft iron designed to soak it up. From there it was a short step to blow the surge arrestors and... The chain of disasters unfolded at the terrible speed of her imagination.

Shivering, Fusion stretched her wings to their full four body-length span, fanning the big primary feathers to settle them and wincing as the multitude of small muscles in the wing's roots protested. The pain worked, broke the worst of the incipient panic and let her think more clearly. No. Think about it you foalish mare, the chance of that chained failure is so small as to be ridiculous. Fusion refolded her wings and shook her head. ...and we wouldn't be just talking about a few casualties, either. She started walking again, unconsciously chewing on the inside of her lips, the tiny irrational trace of worry sitting in her chest making each step somehow more difficult.

===

Noon found her back at the shelter where Gravity was practicing some fine control exercises with a small pile of food pellets. Fusion settled carefully to her belly -- her burns had been healed, but the memory of the hot metal made her unconsciously cautious -- and watched Gravity move the pellets in slow, careful arcs for a few seconds. She studied her sister, her tongue just poking out the corner of her mouth in extreme concentration. What should I tell you? Would I want to know in your place? It's not like you can do anything but worry. Reluctantly Fusion decided to keep quiet.

"Thanks for staying with me today, Gravity."

"That's okay, sis," Gravity replied, never taking her eyes off the brown ovoids. "Academician Vanca must be pretty powerful among the Masters; mine sent me a revised work order late last night. I'm to stay with you until you are fit to return to the Institute."

Fusion sighed, feeling useless. "I'm sorry, Grav, I never wanted to take you away from your training."

"Don't worry, sis, I need extra practice at fine control anyway, and there's nothing like a bit of solitude to focus the mind. Hey, you know what else was in that work order? My Master says I'm going to start working at the launch site once you are better."

"Doing...?" Fusion felt a pang of unease; more and more ponies had been transferred to the heavy lift launch sites scattered around Lacunae Hive.

"Primary momentum boost for one of the GX10 rapids. That's why I need to brush up on my fine control and multiple handling skills; can't drop one of those kinetic vehicles half way down the tube!"

"I guess not," Fusion muttered, thinking what would happen if a KV touched the tube walls at about half orbital velocity.

===

Celestia was setting by the time Fusion and Gravity's parents returned, the golden orb painting the sky and clouds the colour of molten iron. The first, Plasma Cascade, her cream coat and red mane appearing to catch fire in the light of sunset, flew in from the direction of the Hive industrial zone. She landed smoothly a tenth of a kilolength from the shelter and cantered up to her daughters. Fusion felt a lightening in her chest as some fraction of the irrational fear that had been sitting there evaporated.

"Fusion," she said, nuzzling her neck before stepping back to inspect her elder daughter, her teal eyes shining. "It's so good to see you up and about. How are you feeling?"

"Much better, mother. Still a bit achy, but nothing a few more days won't fix."

"That's fantastic. And you, Gravity... have you been taking good care of your sister?" Plasma turned to face the younger sister with a mock glare, red tail flicking over the curved lines of her labour tattoo.

Gravity giggled. "Yes, ma, although she's been a difficult patient. Fetch this, carry that -- the demands were endless."

Fusion let out an annoyed snort. "That's right, pick on the cripple. When does dad get off shift? I heard something about an accident at one of the reactors?" She ignored Gravity's sudden sharp glance.

"Umm, should be now, really. It's true, there was an explosion, I... I heard one of the Masters talking on his communicator." Here she lowered her head, blushing at the memory of doing something even slightly disrespectful to the Masters, despite the desire everypony had to anticipate their wishes. "It was reactor seventeen, they called all of his shift in to work one of the damage control parties."

"What happened?" Gravity broke in worriedly.

"One of the field crystals fractured and the containment vessel was breached. Unfortunately the fail-safe... failed and one of the engineering bays was flooded."

Fusion winced; with the reactor at full power -- they all seemed to be these days -- and with the fail-safe down the induction heaters would not have shut off... Only a fraction of the full power output, but enough to superheat the air in the engineering bay.

"How many casualties?" she whispered.

"No Masters, fortunately, but five ponies had to be euthanized."

"Only five? Well that's a relief." Fusion sighed, it could have been far worse. "Do you know who they were? I think there's a few from our corral working on number seventeen."

Plasma shook her head. "The reactor crew is still working and the damage control parties are probably still sorting through the wreckage. We'll find out if some ponies don't come back, I guess..." The older mare trailed off into silence, eyes focused on some distant scene only she could see.

Behind her there was a thump as Gravity sprang into the air with a single mighty downstroke. Fusion craned her head around, wings twitching with the unconscious desire to join her sister in the sky. She watched as the dusky blue filly spiralled up to meet the larger turquoise and blue stallion. For a hundred seconds or so the two ponies tumbled through the failing light, chasing each other around the clouds in an impromptu game of tag. Finally it got too dim and both ponies, breathing hard but looking cheerful, came in for a landing.

Helium Flash, flicking sweat from the four joined circles of his labour tattoo, stood next to Plasma, their wings over each other withers. He studied Fusion intensely before nodding to his elder daughter.

"You are looking much better, Fusion," Helium said. He cast a sidelong glance at his mate. "I guess you've told everypony else about your day already, huh?"

Fusion pushed thoughts of the accident to the back of her mind, smiled at her father and started to talk.

===

The following day, Fusion, her sleep patterns thoroughly disrupted by over sleeping the night before, awoke long before Celestia rose. She lay there silently for a few seconds, enjoying the warmth of her family as they all lay together on the floor of the corral. By the dim light of a distant orbital heliostat she carefully extricated herself from under her father's wing -- he'd never been able to break himself of the habit, even though Fusion and Gravity were nearly the same size as he was -- and stepped carefully to the edge of the shelter. Behind her came the quiet noise of feathers sliding together as Helium unconsciously shifted his wings to cover his now exposed flank.

Fusion leaned against one of the composite pillars holding up the edge of the open sided shelter, her breath steaming in the cold predawn air. Looking up, she traced the arc of the debris ring, a dense scattering of twinkling pinpoints, as it tracked across the perfectly black dome of the sky. This time only one of the two moons, Luna, was up. It sat a third of the way up the sky to the east, shedding a cool silver light from the narrow illuminated segment. Fusion stared at the cratered sphere; even without using a simple atmospheric lensing spell she could just make out the geometric shapes of the various installations on its surface.

Off in the distance was the main source of light at this hour; one of the Hive's collection of heliostats adding extra daylight hours to a farm somewhere over the horizon. The big orbital mirrors were invaluable for boosting yield, even if they were occasionally retasked at odd hours and tended to briefly bathe the corral in brilliant sunshine in the middle of the night.  She couldn't see where the light was being sent, but some was being reflected back from a collection of giant puffy clouds in unnaturally neat rows just outside the heliostat's light path. Tiny darting points of light marked out ponies of the weather team keeping the small storm system ready for a dawn downpour. 

Stepping out from under the roof, Fusion tentatively accelerated to a gentle trot, feeling her muscles complain but knowing this was the quickest way to fully recover. She kept to the perimeter of the corral, away from the normal -- and noisy -- gravel tracks, heading for the Church. This building -- one of only three with actual walls, the others being the facilities feedstock bunker and the infirmary -- was pyramid shaped and made of a stone so dark it seemed to soak up the light even in the middle of the day. With only the silver glow of Luna and the distant heliostat for illumination, it looked like a hole in the fabric of the universe. A portal to some infinitely black dimension.

Fusion walked along one of the twenty length sides of the structure, pausing to run one hoof across the polished surface every so often until she came to row upon row of small grooves. She couldn't read them in this vague and uncertain light, but she knew what they were. Names, hundreds upon thousands of names. All the ponies born in the corral and successful enough to be Blessed and to earn their labour tattoos. Soon, somewhere on that wall, Gravity would be carving her own name. Fusion sighed and stepped back to stare at the triangular silhouette.

===

The forest of legs, each tipped with a sharp hoof, was quite intimidating when you only came up to their knees. Fusion kept between Helium and Plasma, her parent's bodies a shield against the press of excited adults. She reared up, balancing unsteadily on her hind legs and beating her stubby wings in a vain attempt to see over the backs of the crowd. Failing to see any more than the briefest glimpse of the black pyramid, she butted her head into her mother's flank.

"Mommmy I can't see, I want a carry!"

"Oww! Fusion, please don't do that," Plasma moved one cream wing down to rub the spot her daughter had hit. "Your horn is getting quite sharp, you know."

Fusion pouted then hung her head. "Sorry, I didn't mean to -- but Gravity is getting a carry and it's not even her day! I want to see!"

"You're too big for a ride -- none of your school friends are getting one, don't you want show them how grown up you are?" Plasma's head swung back up as she looked round the crowd, then came back down to Fusion's level. "There's nothing to see yet, anyway."

Fusion looked up at where Gravity was sitting on her father's back, legs dangling down either side of his wing roots. The little dusky blue filly looked down at her, grinned and stuck her tongue out to blow a silent raspberry. 

Fusion turned back to Plasma. "Pleeeaassee?" she said, letting her ears droop and widening her eyes in a normally successful pleading expression.

"No, Fusion, no riding." Plasma's tone had flipped from amused to stern, then she smiled to take the sting from the words. "In the Maker's name, filly, stop looking at me like that, you'll rot my teeth. Tell you what," she said, seeing Fusion's face fall. "I'll keep a look-out, and when the Master arrives I'll lift you up, deal?"

Fusion's frustration faded and she smiled. "Deal! Higher than Gravity?"

Plasma laughed and hugged the white filly to her side with her wing. "We'll see. Now why don't you trot off and find some of your friends -- but come straight back as soon as you hear the music start, okay?"

"Okay!" said Fusion as she dashed away, her fear of the equine forest forgotten with the promise of a good view. She threaded her way through the milling legs, eyes, ears and nose searching for any sign of her friends. 

The dozen or so families with foals just starting to come into their magic were all grouped together near the middle of the crowd, so it didn't take Fusion long to catch a hint of the cinnamon-and-burnt-sugar odour of Random Walk. Ears forward and eyes searching she caught a glimpse of a green flank through a gap in the adults, the hip marked with a broken bone labour tattoo.

"Spiral Fracture!" Fusion called out.

A green mare's head appeared above nearest adult's back, ears questing for the source of her name. Seeing the white filly, the adult took a few steps to squeeze past some of her nearest neighbours, then lowered her head down to Fusion's level.

"Hello, Fusion dear, are you lost?" The head cocked to one side, the tightly braided white mane swaying back and forth like a pendulum.

"Naw, I was looking for Random. Can she come and play?"

"Hmm, okay. But mind you come back before the ceremony starts -- it would be a terrible if we kept the Master waiting." Spiral's ears flattened and she shivered at the thought of this horror. She backed up a little, nudging the purple stallion in front of Fusion until he noticed her and side-stepped to let her through.

A few paces further in and Fusion caught a glimpse of a figure her own size. Random had her head down and was staring at the grass with an expression of long suffering boredom. Before they could get any closer Fusion butted Spiral on the flank -- this time with the side of her head rather than the front -- to attract the mare's attention.

"Hold on, I want to surprise her," Fusion whispered.

Spiral's ears flicked up and she grinned, then shuffled to one side to let Fusion pass. The filly walked slowly up behind the tan coated Random, placing each hoof with care, before holding her breath and leaning over the black spiky mane to place her mouth right next to a drooping ear. 

"Hi Random, watcha' doin'?" she said in a bright voice.

The response was everything Fusion had hoped it would be. The filly jerked away from her with a shriek, legs going stiff and wings flicking out in surprise. 

"Gotcha," Fusion laughed, pushing a wing full of feathers out of her face. "You're it!" she cried, then pranced off while looking over one shoulder.

Random's expression went from shock to joy in an instant, then she pawed the ground with one front hoof and charged after the white filly. For the next few minutes the pair darted through the crowd, much to the good natured annoyance of the adults, the hunter and hunted switching places every few seconds. Along the way they ran into Packet Switcher -- literally, the lemon colt had been watching their progress and had gotten close enough to pounce on Fusion as she swerved to avoid one of Random's lunges. All three ended up in a heap, almost knocking an orange stallion -- too engrossed in a conversation with his neighbour to notice their approach -- off his hooves.

"Sorry, mister," Random squeaked out between gasps, not looking sorry at all.

A look of annoyance crossed his face, vanishing when his ears flicked around to catch the first notes of the great horn booming out over the crowd. 

"He's here!" the stallion said excitedly. "You foals better get back to your parents if you don't want to miss the ceremony."

"It's our turn today," Packet said proudly, untangling his legs from the two fillies and standing as tall as he could.

The stallion's eyes widened. "You'd better hurry then. Off you go -- no more playing, go on, shoo!"

The three foals exchanged slightly panicked looks, then split up to head back to their respective parents. Fusion threaded her way to the half remembered location only to find her mother coming the other way.

"Ah, I thought if I headed towards a disturbance I'd find you! Come on, you've nearly missed the Master's arrival," Plasma said, turning and breaking into a trot.

Fusion cantered after her mother's swaying red tail, back to where Gravity was bonelessly slumped on their father's back. The great horn had stopped now, replaced by a more complex melody on small wind and stringed instruments. Fusion caught a glimpse of four objects as they flicked past, just over the heads of the crowd.

"Mommy, you promised!" cried Fusion.

Plasma, gazing off at something Fusion couldn't see with a rapt expression on her muzzle, jumped and turned to her daughter with a smile.

"So I did. Hold still now." Her horn flared with a white nimbus and a similar glow enfolded Fusion, lifting her up level with her mother's head. "Oof, you're getting heavy!"

Fusion snorted; she'd seen her mother lift a whole tree trunk without apparent effort. She opened her mouth to reply, but her mother was already staring back into the distance, her whole body leaning forward in anticipation of... something? Fusion looked in the same direction, but could only see a tiny black dot.

That must be the Master, she thought. She tried to copy her mother, but after a couple of seconds decided she'd rather watch the display team. Now where are they...?

Four ponies swept over the crowd in complete silence, so close that Fusion could have counted belly hairs if they weren't going so fast. She gasped at the skill; the square formation was so tight that their half folded wings almost completely overlapped. Reaching the black pyramid the square abruptly broke apart, the leading pair shooting straight up in a V while the trailers darted sideways at ground level in opposite directions. All four left behind short-lived contrails as careful magic supercooled the air in their wakes.

The four display ponies curved around and darted towards the pyramid again; just over its tip they curled up into a vertical helix, wingtip vortexes blurring their trails into a single thick column of fog. Maybe five hundred lengths above the ground the column met up with the black dot, now grown to a smooth egg-shape a half dozen lengths across. The ponies broke apart in four separate directions before curving round to encircle the hovering vehicle in an intricate aerial dance. 

Fusion cheered and clopped her hooves together, her joyful squeaks drowned out by the roar of the crowd. Overhead the black egg started to descend, heading towards a notch cut into the upper surface of the pyramid.

"Are you ready?" Plasma whispered in Fusion's ear, mouth so close it tickled the long, fine hairs around its edge.

Fusion swallowed, throat suddenly dry as she realised she was going to have to go out in front of everypony. "I..."

Plasma nuzzled the side of her daughter's neck. "Don't worry, you'll be fine -- and we'll all be here with you. It's a bit scary at first, but when you are Blessed it's... it's... wonderful." Her voice trailed off and a dreamy look flashed over her face for a few seconds.

Fusion nodded jerkily as her mother gently let her settle back to the ground.

"Come on, let's go," Plasma said, shaking her head to clear it. She draped one wing over her daughter and they both walked to the front of the crowd.

Soon, Fusion was standing with Random, Packet and a dozen other foals of a similar age. All were slightly twitchy, casting nervous glances back to their respective parents. Off to one side, the five ponies playing the array of stringed, wind and percussion instruments reached a crescendo and abruptly fell silent, just as the pyramid's big doors flew open. 

===

Fusion's memory rewound back to the present and left her standing in darkness before the wall of names. 

"Will I be up there someday?" she said softly into the darkness. 

Fusion frowned. There was something odd about that long forgotten memory. She could recall the game of tag before the ceremony and she could recall the party afterwards -- but the actual time inside the Church was nothing more than a blur and a feeling of unfocussed awe and joy.

Brow furrowed, she probed the memory of that day, struggling to remember what had happened inside the black pyramid. 

> 03 - Claws Inside the Velvet Glove
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist

===


The Pattern ran long, slow experiments with these novel compounds. Atoms were linked in increasingly complex ways to form chains, sheets and finally spheres packed with complex molecular machines. Floating in the dark, still ocean, these first organic life forms were able to use the chemicals in hot water jets to make more of themselves, spreading out in thick mats around the undersea volcanoes. Further changes and the single cells came together in cooperative clusters, individuals specialising in one task or another to give the whole cluster the ability to manipulate its environment. Dozens, then hundreds of new species were birthed and released into those dark, crushing depths.

It was here the Pattern met its first failure. Past a certain body size its created life would not take; no sooner would it make them then they would cease to function and break up. It immediately realised its error -- the energy budget was simply too small for the Pattern to continue with this interesting line of experiments. What it needed was a better power source than the slow leakage of trapped heat. It knew there were ways to combine atoms to release relatively large amounts of energy, but its universe was too small and contained too few atoms of the right types to manage this over the timescales of interest. Fortunately there was another way.

=== Chapter 3 (remastered): Claws Inside the Velvet Glove ===

Inside the pyramid was one large hollow space, with a dais in the centre under a thick pillar that descended from the apex of the peaked roof but stopped a couple of bodylengths off the floor. A darkly robed figure stood at the very centre, a platform by its side holding something that sparkled in a single spotlight.

The fifteen foals formed up into three ranks and stepped forward into the opening, marching with the small, quick steps they'd practiced for the last few megaseconds. Fusion was a couple of rows back from the leaders, her nerves fading away as the routine settled in. Up ahead, from between the heads and necks, she could see the robed figure standing... not quite motionless, she thought, was it... fidgeting? She kept her muzzle pointed forward as the foals all shuffled around into a circle surrounding the platform, staring at the Master out of one eye with unashamed curiosity.

The figure was tall, really tall, and very thin. Even without the dais it would be almost twice her height. 

How does it manage to keep its balance on only two legs? Fusion thought.

The robe, black like the walls of the pyramid, covered it almost completely, but she could see pale furred, clawed hands clasped at its front. The -- Fusion groped for the unfamiliar term -- thumbs were tapping against each other. The figure's chest expanded slightly and she heard a faint sigh from the darkness inside the hood.

Soon the foals had spaced themselves around the platform, all gazing with wide eyes at the tall shape at its centre. The figure unclasped its hands and reached out with startlingly long arms to a shining metal circle set with a single large amethyst resting on the a plinth next to it. Raising the object over its head, the Master spoke.

"The Maker created the People at the beginning of time."

The Master, male from the voice, raised his head to stare at the metal circle, his hood falling back slightly to reveal a young-looking pale furred face. In the light of the spotlight, Fusion could see that the metal circle did not just have the single purple gem, but was also studded with a complex pattern of small gems on its inner surface. Despite her focus on the crown, tiara or whatever it was, Fusion couldn't help noticing that the Master sounded a little bored.

"In turn, we the People created you. In return for life you serve us in this world, knowing that you will ascend to paradise in the next."

The Master lowered the crown to pony-head height and stepped towards a foal two places to Fusion's left. The colt, Metal Matrix, looked up at the Master in awe, some light source inside the crown casting diffuse flickers of colour against his pale cream coat. The Master placed the crown onto the foal's head, setting it so it covered the top of his head and rested against the back of his horn. 

"This Priest Blesses you in the Maker's name." The Master pressed a thumb against the large amethyst.

There was a purple flash from the gem. Metal's eyes widened and he drew in a ragged breath through a jaw suddenly clenched tight. A couple of seconds later he relaxed completely, eyelids drooping and mouth hanging open, sinking to the floor as his legs gave way. The Master retrieved the crown and moved to the next foal along, Random Walk. Raising it once more, he placed it on the filly's head.

"This Priest Blesses you in the Maker's name." 

Fusion's mind whirled -- the voice was bored; this was not some special event like her parents had said, this was routine. ...and why does that phrase suddenly sound sinister? 

With a flash of purple, Random gasped and collapsed to the floor, making Fusion twitch with the desire to come to her aid. The Master picked up the crown and moved to stand in front of her. Eyes wide, Fusion felt the panic build as the crown descended towards her head, the urge to bolt becoming very strong. Her attentions shifted from the Master to the crown he held; little glimmers of light flickered around the gems on its inner surface, the pulsing accelerating as he lowered the thing over her. As the cold metal settled on her head she had a sudden revelation; something was wrong, very wrong -- everypony called this a Blessing, but instead it was a terrible curse. 

"This Priest Blesses you in the Maker's name."

Fusion tensed her legs, wings flaring in a useless instinct to escape, when that clawed thumb pressed lightly against the amethyst in the centre of the crown. A blinding light filled her eyes and something reached out of the metal and into her mind. 

===

Fusion shook her head to clear it. Where had that come from? She shifted uneasily from hoof to hoof.

"Not enough sleep," she muttered to herself, turning to head back to the family shelter. She eyed the lightening sky behind the pyramid; dawn was only a few kiloseconds away, but she might as well try and get back to sleep. Fusion turned and walked slowly back through the middle of the town, her hooves crunching on the gravel.

Half way back she passed the darkened bulk of the infirmary, all the monitored stalls empty -- so far anyway, they still hadn't seen any of the reactor seventeen day shift workers back at the corral. Fusion paused, staring at the wide entrance. Somewhere in there was the special stall, one which ponies would go into and not leave. What am I going to do if I've lost my magic for good? She bit her lip, mind following darker paths. Those horror stories came back, but somehow she was unable to dismiss her fears this time. 

There were jobs for ponies that could no longer perform the tasks the Masters set -- the burnouts, the flightless cripples and so on -- but there weren't many. The Master's work was invariably hard and there were always accidents -- and as the things ponies did were mostly high risk, these tended to be fatal. Ponies, though, had long lives, long enough that Fusion had never heard of anypony dying of old age, or even getting old like the Masters did. Those few jobs, things like teaching the youngest foals or maintaining the corral for those with even the dregs of magic remaining, were occupied by ponies for as long as they could stand it. Eventually a pony could bear it no more and would make that last trip to the infirmary.

Turning away from the building, Fusion plodded on, head bowed and lost in dark thoughts until she reached the family shelter. Creeping forward, she jumped slightly as her father lifted his head, eyes glowing a soft green in the heliostat's light. He opened one wing and she gratefully stepped into its embrace, snuggling against his warm fur.

"Everything will work out, you'll see," he whispered in her ear, then started to hum as he nuzzled the top of her head.

Fusion's eyelids drooped, the half heard, half felt lullaby sending her to sleep just like it did when she was a foal.

===

Fusion moaned as brilliant light stabbed into her eyes. Not again! One wing came up, waving feebly in an attempt to shield her eyes.

"Turn it off," she mumbled, then sighed in relief as something moved between her and the sun. Blinking, she yawned mightily and lifted her head to peer at the shape leaning down towards her.

"Better?" said a voice, murky and distant. "Time for you to get up. It's way past breakfast."

"Much, thanks." Fusion dropped her head back to the woodchip floor with a sigh. "Just a few more seconds."

There was a moment of silence, then the shadow moved and Fusion was blasted with light once more. Wincing, she opened her mouth to protest, then snapped it shut when something soft, yet irresistible, gripped her body from hind quarters to withers and pinched in all the wrong places at exactly the same time. 

"Stop! Mercy! I'm awake, stoppit!" Fusion convulsed, legs thrashing as the tickling continued unabated. After a lifetime the torment ceased and she was allowed to breathe again.

"Just you wait until I'm better, you monster!" Fusion growled, panting as she struggled to her hooves. "Come here, you little..." Finally upright, she galloped after the dusky blue mare, already a handful of bodylengths away and accelerating fast. Seeing the distance rise and realising she had no chance of catching her tormentor, Fusion tottered to a halt, let her head droop and feigned a hacking cough. 

Letting her wings drag in the grass, Fusion took a few more shaky steps, weaving slightly and shaking her head as if confused. Through narrowed eyes she saw Gravity come to a halt, a worried look on her face, then trot back towards her in concern.

"Sister... are you okay?"

Fusion ignored this, coughing again. Just a little closer... "Gottcha!" she whispered, then in one quick motion reared up to wrap her forelegs around Gravity's neck while raking both sets of primary feathers along her sister's belly. The effect was pretty much the same as the way Gravity had awakened her; the younger mare shrieked and thrashed her own wings in an attempt to fend off Fusion's assault.

"Enough!" Navy blue magic pulled Fusion away, holding her at bay while Gravity regained her breath. "I guess I asked for that," the other mare said with a wheeze. "Peace?"

"Peace," Fusion laughed. "What's the rush, anyway?"

"Your Homecoming party... we'd have had it yesterday, but you were still pretty shaky. Also..."

Fusion looked away, the happy distraction of the chase vanishing under the weight of her memories from the previous days. "For me? But nothing I've done deserves that." She chewed her lips for second, then looked back up to stare at her sister, a deep blue shape distorted by tears. "I failed, Gravity. Failed! How can I go to the party?"

Gravity blinked, her head jerking back in surprise. "But... you can't believe that!"

Fusion did not reply, but turned away, staggering slightly as she walked back to the shelter. Gravity trotted up beside her, hooking one dark blue wing over her withers and bringing her to a halt. She rested her head against Fusion's and sighed.

"I'm sorry, Fusion, I should have realised. I'm guessing you don't remember much of the night you were brought in?"

"I remember enough," Fusion said in a low voice. "My Master was so angry with me, and now I can't use my magic... I'm no use to anybody, Master or pony." Her voice dropped to a mumble. "I don't think I can live like this."

Fusion felt her sister's muscles suddenly go iron hard under her blue fur, then Gravity pushed away from Fusion with enough force to make her stumble. Wheeling around in front of the white mare, she raised one wing and slapped it sharply across her muzzle. Fusion's mouth fell open in shock, eyes wide as she stared at Gravity in confusion.

"That is quite enough of that. You are not thinking straight, my little pony!" Gravity paced in circles in front of her sister, hooves hitting the ground with more force than was necessary. "I heard what your Master said. She was angry, yes. But. Not. At. You." She ground these last words out with long pauses, before carrying on in a gentle tone. "Academician Vanca was angry at... the world, I think. She was angry that she couldn't continue her work immediately. Useless indeed." Gravity snorted, half in disgust and half in amusement. "The Master that brought you in was practically singing your praises."

Fusion shook her head as if to dislodge a troublesome insect, trying to remember that night in anything more than vague impressions. "I... you're sure?"

Gravity fluttered her wings in exasperation. "I was there, and unlike you I was paying attention. Yes, of course I'm sure! Do you think I can lie about something like that?" 

That did it. Fusion's head came up as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from it. "Thank you, thank you. You don't know what it means to hear that."

"Possibly not. So... if you are feeling up to it?"

"Party?"

"Party. Oh, and it's not just for you. The reactor crew is back, and Packet Switcher is with them." 

"And you were going to tell me this, when?"

"Just now, just before you, um..." 

Told you I was planning a one-way trip to the infirmary, Fusion filled in, ears flattening. "Sorry about that." She cleared her throat, then continued in as convincing a tone as she could muster. "I'm okay, really. You don't need to worry."

"I know, I know." Gravity stepped forward and wrapped her wings around Fusion. "Sorry I hit you. Come on, let's make an appearance so I can hear you and Packet swap stories."

===

The party was, as they normally were, held on the wide staging area behind the infirmary. No pony knew when the tradition started -- it was one of those few things that weren't handed down from the Masters -- but after every accident, survivors or no, all off duty ponies would gather together to celebrate the fact that life goes on. The party would go on for a full day, ebbing and flowing as ponies came on and off duty. There was music from those skilled in fine manipulation, aerial displays from the weather team and plenty of food. Most of all there was the exchange of stories: stories of those fallen in the service of the Masters, stories from the survivors, and stories from those who escaped with only a tall tale to tell.

The two mares drifted through the groups of ponies, Fusion, glad that the return of the rest of the reactor shift had removed much of the interest in her story, kept a low profile. She spent most of the next four kiloseconds listening to multiple versions of the same story, standing behind Gravity as the dark blue mare drank in the details. When it came to her turn she was doubly embarrassed; mainly because her injury was a result of her own weakness, but also because she felt that her own tale just wasn't that interesting.

Eventually, Fusion caught sight of Packet, just as the lemon stallion was exiting the rear door of the infirmary. Nudging her sister, she apologised to the group they were talking to and trotted over to meet him. Rushing forward to hug him, she pulled up short when she saw him flinch, belatedly noticing the missing fur down one flank.

"No hugs, huh?" she said, looking him over. "What happened out there? I didn't think you were anywhere near the reactor?"

"No hugs," he confirmed with a laugh that immediately turned into a pained intake of breath. "Don't worry, it only hurts when I breathe." He relaxed and gave her a slight smile. "Want me to go first?"

Fusion nodded, interested to see how her friend had been injured despite being in one of the most heavily protected parts of the complex.

"Well," Packet began, "the first we knew of it -- that's me and my trainer, Cooper Pair -- was when he got an emergency override through his comms disk... the reactor must have exploded just seconds before, although we were too far away to hear it and it wasn't on our grid section." He pawed the ground, gazing off into some remembered space. "We didn't know at the time, of course, the orders were just to gather at the muster station, but it was already too late for the engineering team..."

===

"The important thing is maintaining the grid voltage; your main task will be fine control over the distribution network and..."

Packet jumped as a warbling alarm cut across the other stallion's voice. Looking towards the source of the sound he saw the flashing red light on Cooper's comms disk. He twisted his head to look down; the disk nestled in his own yellow chest fur was silent. 

"What..."

Cooper raised a chocolate coloured wing to silence Packet, then tapped his comms disk with a forehoof to shut off the alarm. Head cocked to one side, he stared off at nothing with the distracted air of a pony listening to a voice only he could hear.

"Horseapples!" Cooper snarled. His head snapped up and he wheeled to trot down the corridor leading out of the main switching chamber. "Come on, they need everypony." He accelerated to a canter, horn glowing as he opened the next set of doors from half way down the corridor.

Packet froze for a second, then dug his hooves into the flexible flooring, going from standing to a gallop in the space of a half-dozen strides. Ahead, he could see the still open exit doors and the vanishing rump of Cooper Pair. Cursing under his breath, the lemon stallion opened his wings and kicked off the ground. The corridor was designed for the transport of heavy machinery, but despite this his outstretched wingtips brushed the ribbed walls with each rapid wingbeat. 

The open doors approached faster than he could ever gallop; unfortunately these were only the inset pony-sized doors, not the big surrounding concertina machinery ones. The smaller doorway, big enough for a pair of ponies to walk through with space to spare, was looking awfully narrow when approached at flight speed. With no desire to slow down to hoof speed, Packet took one last quick downstroke, then folded his wings almost completely. With head down and legs and wings tucked in he passed through the exact centre of the opening, horn glowing as he fine-tuned his trajectory by pushing against the door frame.

Flashing into daylight, Packet opened his wings with a thump, gravel scraping his belly and knees before he managed to arrest his descent, then soared up into the less confined spaces between the cyclopean buildings and giant pylons making up the power distribution centre. Squinting into the slipstream, he swerved to avoid another pony heading in the same direction, then spotted the chocolate brown shape of Cooper Pair and pumped his wings to catch up.

Cooper was watching his approach, flying to the west with languid strokes. As Packet drew up alongside he turned his head and shouted to the younger pony. 

"What took you so long?"

"Somepony didn't open the doors fully!"

Cooper grinned. "I didn't expect you to fly out... are you sure you shouldn't be with the weather team?"

"What's happened?"

"Don't know, sounds like an accident at number seventeen... and look over there." He pointed with one forehoof at a plume of dark smoke just starting to rise from a few windows high up on one monolithic structure. "New orders, hold on... follow me down."

The pair of ponies spiralled down, joining a rapidly expanding herd gathering on the loading dock. Near the big cargo doors were a cluster of unevenly parked emergency vehicles, their hazard strobes flickering in irregular patterns. At the head of the herd of ponies were a couple of tall bipeds; every few seconds they'd send pairs of ponies in through the doors.

Keeping quiet, Packet stayed close to Cooper, listening to the excited murmuring between the waiting ponies. He didn't have long to wait. One of the Masters, a spindly, dark-furred giant with a military-style equipment vest, gestured Cooper forward. Holding up a gem studded slab in one paw he spoke to Cooper.

"Cooper Pair SP1096 is to enter the upper windows and conduct a search for survivors inside the reactor floor and control deck. The pony is to rescue any of the People it finds, living or dead." He turned to Packet, frowning. "The pony will identify itself."

Packet stiffened, a sudden panic at the mere possibility of being in the wrong place washing over him. A headache started to build at the base of his horn, and he stared at a point over the Master's shoulder. "Packet Switcher JQ0377."

"Yessss..." A long drawn out hiss through the Master's canine teeth. "This pony is not on the local work list. An apprentice to this one?" he said, pointing at Cooper with one blunt claw.

"Y-yes, Master," Packet replied hesitantly.

"Good." With that single word the headache vanished and the panic was replaced by joy and an almost irresistible urge to grovel in gratitude. The Master ignored Packet and turned to Cooper. "The pony will take its apprentice and carry out its orders."

Cooper nodded sharply, but the tall biped had already turned to the next pony. Gesturing for Packet to follow him, Cooper took to the skies.

The upper windows had looked small from the air, but that was an illusion brought on by the size of the building. In reality they were tens of bodylengths wide and at least five high. About a third of the way along the structure one of these giant windows had shattered, letting out a plume of black smoke. Cooper hovered by the opening, horn glowing as he cleared the wing-long shards of glass from the window frame, then flew inside.

Packet glided in after the stallion, dropping quickly to get under the hot smoke layer near the ceiling, before circling inside the single giant room. This chamber was an enormous space -- almost a hundred body lengths across -- sitting over the fat torus of the fusion reactor, which occupied most of the top half of the building. Eyes watering in the irritant haze, Packet spotted the dark brown pony weaving between the plumes of smoke rising from electrical fires on the surface of the torus, heading for a structure jutting out from one wall of the room.

This must be the control room, Packet thought. Shapes were visible moving behind the wide windows, the silhouettes of what could only be Masters. Landing on a wide walkway, Packet trotted up to Cooper, who was banging on the control room door.

"Rescue team," he shouted. "Get away from the door."

"Give me a hoof with this," Cooper muttered to Packet, horn glowing a deep orange. 

Between the two of them they forced the door open -- either one could have smashed it down, but without knowing what was on the other side they needed to open it carefully.

Inside the room was controlled chaos. Five Masters were frantically working at consoles, while a sixth was head and shoulders inside an equipment cabinet, strings of optic fibre, multicore cable and a rainbow scatter of crystals spread over the floor around him. Packet's ears flicked up and around; he could hear muffled swearing from various parts of the room. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Cooper step towards the nearest Master.

"Excuse me, Master..."

The Master, pale blonde fur dishevelled and patchy from minor burns, looked up and glared at Cooper. "These ones are busy, pony."

Cooper swallowed, cringing slightly and his ears folding back at the Master's tone. "I'm under orders from emergency command to rescue all Masters from this area--"

"Yes, yes. This one and these People cannot leave; the reactor is still not under control. The external data links have failed -- does this pony still have an active labornet connection?"

"Yes, Master."

"Praise the Maker. Logori, bring the connection kit. The pony will step over to this console." The Master pointed at the middle of the room where a bundle of cables spewed from a gutted console. Another Master, this one with an arm in a make-shift sling, dragged over a toolkit and started to pick through the mess of wires.

Cooper Pair stepped to the indicated spot, eyeing Logori nervously as he attached a crystal to one cable and held it against his comms disk. "I'm sorry Master, my orders are to assist you to--"

"This pony's orders will be changed once this one gets in contact with emergency command. Failure to shut down the reactor will result in further damage to the facility and more casualties to the People." The Master stared at the brown stallion, a thoughtful look on his face, as Cooper's jaw locked and his breathing became laboured. A moment passed, then he glanced at Packet. "The pony may send what appears to be its understudy to complete its orders."

"T-Thank you, Master," Cooper wheezed, then coughed, breathing coming back under control. "Packet Switcher, this area is clear. Sweep the reactor floor for survivors. Master, are there any of the People missing?"

"Maroril went to check the data lines. She has not returned." The Master tapped a few buttons and called up a schematic of the reactor floor, highlighting one area. "The pony will start its search here, where the data lines pass through an area of damage. Go."

"Yes, Master." Packet nodded and trotted back to the catwalk, then flicked open his wings and jumped over the side.

Even though the reactor room was large, most of it was cluttered with heavy machinery, cables and pipe-work. Packet swept down a walkway, wings half furled in the confined space. He glanced up again, tempted for a moment to fly above the machinery, then sighed. The smoke layer had lowered to the point where visibility would be minimal. Gliding lower, Packet cantered to a landing between two rows of complex mechanisms.

Even down here there was a definite haze in the air, not enough to hinder vision -- sight lines weren't long enough for that -- but the fumes were acrid enough to irritate his throat and make his eyes burn. Packet narrowed his watering eyes and trotted down the walkway, head sweeping from side to side and horn glowing as he scanned for anything alive. So far he'd encountered little damage, but just ahead there were actinic flashes lighting up the haze.

Packet didn't have his labour tattoo yet, but he was pretty sure what his special talent was. He'd always had a gift for energy manipulation -- even as a foal he'd been a skilled creator of firework effects and other illusions -- so it came as no surprise when he'd been apprenticed to the power industry. One of the things that came with this was the ability to easily visualise the flow or concentration of energy, which he perceived as coloured glows within the otherwise dark world of his shadow sight. 

This was an extension of something all ponies shared, part of their inherent sensitivity to magic and magically active things. When looked at with their inner senses, the world became dark and shadowed, the physical fading away to leave the delicate fires of spellstuff and the hard colours of the Master's crystal thaumic technology. All could see magic, but a pony's special talent would let them see other things as well; for Packet it was energy. A quick dip into his shadow sight showed the arcane world was bright with huge numbers of magically active crystals, but behind them were the auras of power -- the most obvious of which was a phantasmal, near ultra-violet glow that spoke of vast energy only barely contained. 

This, Packet knew, was part of the reactor's containment system. Hundreds of thousands of kilolengths of superconducting cables shrouded with networks of magically active crystals designed to enhance the magnetic fields, all holding plasma the temperature of Celestia. At least that was the idea. Beyond the purple glow, where there should have been the crimson fuzz of high energy plasma, was nothing but a dull, almost infra-red tint. Packet shook his head, it was obvious that the reactor vessel -- less than a leg-length away -- was at atmospheric pressure rather than near vacuum, although for some reason the air inside was hotter than a furnace. He blinked and refocused his magical senses on the area ahead.

Something had blown out the crystals lining the wiring loom, scattering pawfuls of gems and iron shielding across the walkway. Without thaumic enhancement the insulation had broken down, and fast, hard arcs of electricity were jumping to the nearest earthing points on the other side of the walkway. Beyond that...

The lemon stallion's wings stiffened in shock. Beyond that, right at the limit of his magically enhanced senses, was a bipedal form half buried in a collapsed section of equipment. A feeling of desperate urgency flowed over Packet and he galloped forward to come to the Master's aid. An instant of blinding pain flooded him as the artificial lightning stroked him across the chest and flanks, dropping him like a tree in a storm.

Packet awoke lying on his side, the crackle-snap-hiss of high voltage arcs snaking past half a body length over his head. For a few seconds he froze, eyes rolling wildly as he tried to remember where he was.

"Master!" he gurgled, body jerking as his hooves scrabbled against the ceramic floor, that overpowering need driving him to do something, anything. As his head lifted, a static thrill danced down his neck, every hair suddenly straining to be separated from its neighbours. In a sudden rush, sanity returned and Packet froze. The urge was still there, but at least he could think. 

"Stupid foal," he muttered, closing his eyes and turning his attention to the energy flowing overhead. His horn glowed and the electric arcs shifted their paths slightly. Right. Packet focussed his will, creating a line of plasma a bodylength above the floor. The lightning still roared and flickered, but now was constrained along the conductive plasma.

The pony winced as he rolled onto his belly, broken gems and iron splinters digging through his fur. Keeping his head low, Packet crawled on knees and wing elbows under the electric arcs, trickles of blood leaving thin red trails on the scarred floor. Five bodylengths further on, well outside the electrically active area, the stallion levered himself to his hooves and relaxed the magic holding the plasma in place.

Flinching as the arcs resumed their spidering crawl, Packet whinnied quietly and trotted forwards into the haze. Up ahead, part of the machinery wall had collapsed, and under that... The pony's horn glowed as planes of yellow light quartered the wreckage, building a detailed model of the damage and the figure trapped beneath it. Packet was no medic, but like everypony he'd had basic training -- and it didn't take much to see that the Master's heart was still beating.

A vast relief flooded through Packet, enough joy that it almost brought him to his knees. The planes of light reformed into a glow surrounding parts of the machinery, each being picked up and discarded from the mass. A brief surge of indigo light that only existed in Packet's mind gave him a half second of warning. It gave him just enough time to crouch over where the Master lay in the wreckage and pull up a wing, before part of the wall exploded.

His feathers saved his eyes, but the blast flung Packet against the fallen machines with enough force to crack ribs. Head ringing, the pony called up a force field disk to deflect a blast of cryogenic gas from a liquid nitrogen pressure line fractured by the explosion. Unfortunately, this did nothing to protect him from a new and much closer set of electrical discharges from the damaged superconductors. Flinching at the brutal snap and flash, Packet drew a line of plasma in the air to short circuit the new arcs. Then, squinting from the effort of maintaining two magical effects, Packet got shakily to his hooves and activated his communicator.

"Packet Switcher JQ0377 to rescue command. I have located one of the People and need assistance."

There was a heartbreakingly long delay, but when the reply came it was from the communicator itself.

# Connection to labournet lost one hundred and ninety three seconds ago. Emergency command server not available. #

By the Maker, can I keep this up until Cooper comes looking for me? Packet thought, starting to panic. Already he could feel the next section of superconductor shielding weakening. Gritting his teeth he divided his attention again, lifting the next section of fallen machinery. A few more pieces and he'd moved all but the largest section, exposing the top half of the Master's body. She was badly injured, with an obvious broken arm, large chunk of missing skin on her head where it had been hit by something, and a nasty puncture wound to her abdomen. What really worried him, though, was the heavy metal stanchion pinning both her legs to the floor.

Packet swallowed, already feeling his strength starting to ebb from the effort required in maintaining his existing magics, then closed his eyes and felt for the metal beam. This will have to be quick, he thought, as soon as I move that beam she's going to start to bleed very quickly.

Taking a firm grip on the metal, the pony applied a rapidly increasing amount of force, pushing up while simultaneously trying to drag the Master under the shelter of his wings. A sudden surge of pain roared through Packet's head and his grip on the plasma line faltered, allowing electric arcs to strike near-by. He reinforced this, but that only caused the metal beam to fall back into place. 

Packet's eyes opened wide, a sobbing gasp escaping his lips as he struggled to find the strength to do all the things he needed to do to complete his mission. The lemon stallion threw his head back and screamed, vision whiting out as he dug down to reserves he didn't know he had. In one last surge of effort the pony pushed as hard as he could on the beam, while allowing his shield to collapse and kicking off the ground.

The heavy beam flew backwards off the Master, allowing Packet to enfold her in a close magical grasp. A tenth of a second later the pony's wings thrust mightily downwards to fling him and his precious cargo into the roiling layer of black smoke. In that tenth of a second, though... High pressure supercooled gas splashed across the stallion's haunches, flaying skin and cutting deeply into the large muscles attached to his left hind leg, only missing his wing by a hoof-width.

As his world filled with a red blur of pain, Packet flew blindly through the black haze, relying solely on the magically bright beacon of Cooper Pair, still -- he hoped -- in the reactor control room.

> 04 - A Small Mercy
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist

===


The barrier that held the chaos at bay could be manipulated, but that would be too much. Instead the Pattern created a flaw, a point discontinuity at vastly higher energy than the rest of the bubble. Unfeasibly massive particles sprang into fleeting existence before reaching a carefully designed boundary and decaying into a few protons, more electrons and many, many photons. The final effect was exactly as intended; an omnidirectional energy source with a blackbody temperature of fifty five hundred Kelvin. With a soundless explosion of light, dawn broke across the surface of the planet for the very first time.

The unavoidable protons and electrons were a complication; eventually they would strip the atmosphere from the young world. More energy and a twist of space-time set the world's core spinning to produce a magnetic field; the shockwaves threw clouds of dust and vapour across the whole planetary surface. Another unintended consequence; a swirling pattern of lights in the upper atmosphere where the electrons were safely funnelled into the poles. The Pattern examined the phenomenon and decided to leave it alone; the roiling streamers generated complex and fascinating curtains of colour. 

=== Chapter 4 (remastered): A Small Mercy ===

Packet fell silent, the act of telling his story taking him back to that room filled with smoke and pain. He scuffed the gravel with one forehoof, eyes distant. "I collapsed when I landed on the walkway and didn't see what happened next. They tell me Cooper relayed a message back to rescue command, who sent in another team to evacuate the Master. They pulled me out about ten kiloseconds later, after the reactor had been shut down." The stallion turned his head and looked thoughtfully at his left hip, the fur gone and the skin livid, but whole. "I don't remember much of that."

Fusion stared at Packet, uncertain of what to say in the face of such bravery. "That's good, Packet, really good."

Packet fluttered his wings in embarrassment, then shrugged and winced. "What about you?"

Fusion turned away slightly, unable to meet his gaze. "Not much to tell really. You know the theories, right? That magic is a result of local changes in the fundamental constants?"

Packet shifted slightly, looking uncertain. "It kind of makes my head hurt, but yes, I've heard that. Don't you have trouble with the way it contradicts what we were taught at the Church?"

"Not really," Fusion said, shaking her head. "There's still the question of how the changes obey the will of a magic user -- if the Maker isn't managing all that, what is? Although it's an interesting question, and you've got to wonder why God would respond to specially prepared gems and crystals." She looked a little guilty and her voice dropped to a whisper. "There was a lot of hanging around between my training sessions, and I overheard some of the things my Master was telling his student. She thinks the Maker is like a machine, it's got no will of its own and just follows orders... if you give it the right orders you can make it do anything."

Packet's mouth opened and shut a few times, but no sound came out. "I... I see. It makes me glad I'm not a Master -- imagine not knowing who created you and why!"

"Doesn't bear thinking about," said Fusion with a shudder. "Say, have you seen Random anywhere? She should be out of training by now."

"If that filly's special talent isn't teaching I'll be very surprised. No, I think she's taking one of the late study sessions today, so she'll be around later." Packet's eyes narrowed and he looked at the white mare with mock suspicion. "Are you trying to side track me? Come on, spill!"

Fusion fidgeted for a few moments, knowing she couldn't stall any longer. "My Master has me in the beam chamber of one of the big accelerators. All I need to do is deflect the beam, she can then study the effects, how magic is changing the properties of local space-time and so on."

Packet nodded. "So what went wrong?"

"I wasn't strong enough, I completed my orders, but it was too much of a strain and I overtaxed my magic. Damaged my horn," she said glumly.

"Ouch," Packet said, wincing in sympathy. "So they've got you on restricted activity until you heal. What happened here?" he said, tracing the curved scars that ran under her belly.

"My own stupid fault. I was so tired and forgot where I was. I just wanted to lay down for a second, catch my breath. Unfortunately I picked the shield emitter ring." Fusion's ears folded back with the embarrassment of the memory.

Packet grimaced. "Understandable. So how long are you off duty?"

"Another couple of days before my assessment. You?"

"Most of tonight under the tender ministrations of Spiral Fracture and the infirmary staff, then I'll be right back out there. I get to add power system construction to my skill list," he said proudly, then coughed slightly and turned away, unwilling to look Fusion in the eye. "They also want to add my experience to the learning centre archive." 

Fusion grinned widely. "You were going to leave that little detail out weren't you? One of my friends, immortalised in crystal." Fusion remembered back to those sessions a few years before she was Blessed. Every day the class would get to experience the best examples of the true heroes of ponykind: some were scary, some hurt a bit, but all left you with lasting memories that you wanted to live up to. 

While she chatted with Packet, Fusion caught sight of Gravity talking to a scarred green mare on the other side of the staging area. The two mares separated, with the scarred pony walking towards Fusion. From across the party, Gravity looked up and met Fusion's eyes, holding her gaze as the other pony closed the distance.

Fusion sighed inside then murmured to Packet. "Excuse me." She turned and stepped towards the other pony.

"Fusion," the mare said in a croaky voice. "How are you doing?"

"Hello, Back Draft."

Back Draft was Fusion's foalhood teacher -- in truth she was everypony in corral twenty seven's teacher. She knew a little about Back's history; the mare had been part of one of the emergency teams until she had gotten a little too close to one accident. A secondary explosion had killed half the team, while fast fragments had slashed her vocal cords, removed her right wing just above the shoulder and cracked her skull. Thaumetic medical was able to fix most things, but amputations and nerve damage took a long, long time.

So long that she was deprioritised from the treatment program and removed from the active labour pool.

Fusion smiled. "Getting better, day by day."

"Gravity said you might want to talk."

Oh she did, did she? Fusion thought. "She's just worried. I said some... things I probably shouldn't have, before I knew the truth of the matter."

Fusion kept her expression neutral while Back Draft studied her face. "Really? Listen, if you ever want to talk about it..."

"No seriously, I'm fine," Fusion said, scrabbling through her memories for something to distract the other mare. "Tell me, how is the latest batch of foals doing? I hear that Shock Diamond is getting into almost as much trouble as I did..."

===

By the fifth day Fusion was starting to climb the walls with boredom, so the arrival of Animal Scanner was a great relief. The crimson pony flew in as the sun was setting, alone this time, trotting up to Fusion Pulse with his equipment harness rattling. Removing the same instrument he'd used during her first inspection, the stallion nodded politely before studying her intently.

"How are you feeling, Fusion Pulse? Have you tried to use magic or fly since I first saw you?"

"No, no flying or magic. I've felt fine for at least two days, it's getting very frustrating." Fusion shifted her weight from hoof to hoof, impatient to get this over with so she could return to her duties. "Just you this time?"

"Yes," Animal Scanner said absently, "Gamma is a field surgery specialist." He gestured with the instrument. "Please stay as still as possible, I need to record these scans." 

His horn glowed and a shimmering plane of red light appeared in front of Fusion's muzzle, then started to track up and down her body. Animal studied the display for a second to make sure the thing had connected with the distant Hive medical systems, then turned his attention inward to the images his magic was showing him. More sparkles and a brighter glow from his horn, and smaller disks of light moved slowly along the leading edges of Fusion's wings and up and down her horn. Fusion gritted her teeth at the sensation; a fierce itch was building up where her horn pushed through her skin, and it was taking all her willpower to resist the urge to scratch.

Animal's eyes came back into focus and he looked at Fusion and smiled. 

"Based on these scans it looks like you are fit to work." He moved to stand next to her, his magic producing a startlingly accurate image of Fusion, apparently hanging in the air, legs dangling and head drooping. "You were pretty far gone at this point." The image split and zoomed in on her horn and right wing, Fusion watching fascinated, itch forgotten, as the feathers, skin and muscle were stripped away to show internal details. Her wing bones and horn started to abate away and the image enlarged further.

"This is you on the night of your injury. You can see here and here--" Little patches of the image were highlighted momentarily. "--small scale disruptions in the crystal structure. It may not look like much, but we really depend on a specific set of quantum properties to manipulate magic, and any systemic damage generally results in a vast reduction in capability. Fortunately," he said, gesturing to the crystal studded instrument still floating by his side, "unlike these synthetic crystals, we can heal. Equally fortunately, I can't detect any damage to the horn's growth bed, or the nerves attached to it. I take it you have had no headaches?" 

A second set of magnified images appeared below the first. The fine electric pattern of cracks could still be seen, but the dark voids were filled in with bright, intricate crystals. At the base of her horn was a thick plate of bone and dense tissue; this was the growth bed. Nerves reached downwards from this to vanish between the hemispheres of her brain.

"It was pretty bad on the first evening, but nothing since then."

"Good. The initial pain was due to the formation of the fractures -- the horn is dead, obviously, but there is a kind of thaumic feedback to the nerves, which is why it hurt. No lasting pain means no nerve damage."

She'd heard something of this before, and knew that the feedback worked in both ways; the constant, unconscious desire of the brain to make sense of the information flowing back from the horn at all times prompting a tiny trickle of magic to repair the damage. The new material looked out of place amid the smooth helixes of the rest of her horn. Fusion traced one of the healed fractures with her forehoof, turning to look at Animal with a troubled expression. "This doesn't look like its gone back to its previous state. Will... will I be a strong as I was before?"

Animal nodded back at her. "Good question. You know when you've done a lot of exercise and your muscles ache?"

Fusion nodded, frowning at this apparent digression.

"Well, what you are feeling are a multitude of tiny tears in the muscle; a day or so later you'll feel better and the muscle has been repaired, stronger than ever. The same thing applies to bone and in your case, horn. Essentially you just over did it."

"Oh." I'm stronger now? "I can try some exercises?"

"Please, in fact I was going to suggest just that. It will give me a chance to check for any subtle problems."

Fusion turned and trotted to the rear of the corral shelter, smiling as she used a light touch of magic -- the first for almost half a million seconds -- to activate the external lights. Under the canopy, at the back of the facilities hub, was a collection of ten chrome spheres in five different sizes. She glanced along the row and picked up the smallest, setting it rising and falling in a steady rhythm. 

"So far so good," she muttered to herself, feeling the gentle tingle of Animal Scanner's magic as he examined her horn as she worked. Keeping the first sphere bobbing, Fusion picked up the next and set it moving as well, then the next and the next. Before long, all ten were floating in stately wave from the smallest pair, a mere horn's width of aluminium, to the two spheres of tungsten as big as her head. Fusion kept them up for a hundred seconds, then glanced at Animal with a raised eyebrow. She'd been able to do this when she was a much younger foal.

"No difficulty or pain?" he asked.

Fusion shook her head.

"Good. How do you feel about an endurance test?"

"Sure. Do you mind if Gravity comes along?"

"Your sister? Not at all."

Fusion trotted off, coming back a few moments later with the dusky blue mare. She then fanned her wings a couple of times experimentally, took a few quick steps, and sprang into the air.

After so long stuck on the ground, flying felt wonderful. Squinting into the cold slipstream, Fusion pumped her wings vigorously to gain height, then folded them in to plummet earthwards. Pulling out ten bodylengths off the ground, she ignored the sudden twinge of pain in her wing roots at the bottom of the curve, focusing instead on the heady rush of seeing shelters flick past as she shot down the central avenue. A few ponies waved up at her as she past; one young colt even flew up to try and catch her, but his small wings were no match for her power dive. Laughing for the sheer joy of it, Fusion traded her speed back into height to rejoin Gravity and Animal, patiently hovering nearby.

"That was foalish; you could have damaged something when you pulled out of that dive. Then you really would have wished I'd brought Gamma Knife along," Animal said in an annoyed tone.

"Only a twinge," Fusion said in a small voice. "Sorry, it was just so good to get back in the air."

The stallion sighed. "Don't worry, you're obviously fine. Please take it a bit easy for the first day or two, though. Pulling a flight muscle while at altitude would be an embarrassing way to go."

The three ponies flew on in silence through the gathering darkness, towards the lights of the training centre.

===

Korn rubbed one paw over his muzzle, then used his claws to unpick an annoying tangle of fur at the back of his head. Glancing at the clock he bared his teeth in displeasure; eight kiloseconds after his supposed departure time and two kiloseconds after he was supposed to meet up with Inthra. Korn sighed, mind wandering over what they'd planned for this night... then winced when he remembered what she'd said when he'd cancelled. That wasn't going to happen any time soon. To think he'd been so pleased to get this studentship with the Academician... it was only later he had realised that her reputation for genius went paw in paw with an attitude that involved treating her underlings like servitors.

Well, almost like servitors. At least this one had survived the punishing schedule the Academician had forced on the research group. Fortunately, it looked like they'd found one with the right skill-set this time, assuming Vanca could be persuaded to take it a little slower. Korn forced his thoughts back to the main display and placed one paw in the manipulation box. On the screen a complex and apparently random pattern of swirls, spirals and straight lines exploded out from a central point, each in a different colour. Twitching his paw, Korn rotated and manoeuvred the pattern, tagging some lines and removing others to allow the computer to build its predictive model. Another few patterns and the system had learnt enough to do the work itself; Korn leaned back against the wall in the small, windowless cubical and gazed with disinterest at the rapidly cycling display.

"Finally," Korn muttered as his comms unit beeped suddenly, then ran a claw over the input pad on his bracer. The main display froze and shrank away, replaced with a medical feed from a veterinarian servitor out somewhere in the patchwork of corrals surrounding the Hive. He tapped the acknowledge control and typed 'proceed' in the supplementary orders box. All the various medical parameters -- heart rate, blood pressure, neuron firing frequency, thaumic flux and so on -- started forming little graphs across the screen. 

Korn nodded a couple of times to himself -- they looked alright to him, but he already knew Vanca's opinion of his veterinary skills... so he also opened a link to the medical expert system. In a final window he opened a pair of thumbnail video feeds from the training centre's own monitoring systems; one on the facilities hub roof, the other actually inside the berm. The view from the first wasn't great -- the camera angle was too wide -- but he could see the red coated veterinarian and a blue servitor whose name he'd forgotten lying on the berm. In the second view, Fusion Pulse had just levitated a pair of metal spheres above her head and started them spinning.

With interest he watched the spheres blur as they accelerated, quickly calling up the centre's assessment systems to get an idea of the servitor's power handling capability, compared to its historical data. His eyes widened and he shivered slightly -- he'd seen the numbers when the servitor was selected for the project, and he'd been in the control room during the first proper experiment -- but there was something more... real about this feat. He'd seen light shows before, obviously; every Hive used the servitors' ability to generate convincing firework effects. Somehow the light show in the beam chamber had seemed to be nothing more. Maybe it was that the physics he dealt with was always so abstract, so apparently disconnected with the real world. 

There was nothing abstract about a creature able to move several tonnes of metal at high speed with only a thought.

Korn started to write a message to Vanca, but stopped to peer more closely at the video feed from the pit. The view was getting hazy, even though the servitor appeared to still be in focus. He glanced back at the medical display then did a double-take at the thaumic flux readings and the calculated total power output. The other video showed a half sphere of haze centred on the white servitor in the middle of the pit, tendrils of fog rolling off the force field's surface.

Korn stared at the two video feeds open mouthed. Cold, he thought, inside that dome it must be getting really cold. "Energy is being siphoned out of the internal volume to...to...” he said, voice trailing off. Power the servitor's magic, he thought.

On the wide angle video the two servitors outside the pit had gotten to their hooves and appeared to be shouting, while red lights started to flash around the perimeter of the berm. Then the red servitor produced a long cylinder and pointed it at the one in the pit. 

"No!" 

Korn surged to his paws, reaching out to the screen as if he could stop what was about to happen, even as a pinpoint of violet light flicked into the pit. Eyes back on the medical display he waited for the charts to drop to zero... but they never did. Back on the wide angle view he saw the blue servitor go flying backwards and the veterinarian turn back to the pit. Suddenly realising what he needed to do, Korn went back to the supplementary orders system and started to type frantically, but before he could send the message there was a white flash on both videos, and all the data feeds -- cameras and remote medical scans -- went dead. Korn stared dumbly at the 'remote server not responding' icons flashing up from all the various windows he'd opened.

"No," he whispered, then tapped Vanca's comms code into his bracer. There was a seemingly endless delay while the connection request went unanswered. Finally the little screen lit up to show the Academician in formal waistcoat and sash, the background a kaleidoscope of similarly smartly dressed people. "Well?" Vanca didn't look or sound pleased, but then she never did.

"Academician Vanca..." he paused, momentarily at a loss for words. "Korn thinks the servitor is dead."

Murmuring in the background, a questioning tone from somewhere, then the view jerked and rose as Vanca stepped quickly away from where she had been seated. "What! How did this happen?"

"The servitor showed an unanticipatedly high power output during a standard endurance test. It looks like the veterinarian interpreted this as a thaumic excursion and carried out a field euthanisation."

Vanca narrowed her eyes. "What isn't Korn telling Vanca?"

"Look at this." Korn called up the last few seconds of video and sent it to Vanca, giving her a running commentary while it played. A small part of his mind -- the fraction that wasn't busy panicking -- was gratified to see Vanca's expression change from anger, through surprise, and on to horror.

"Vanca will make some calls. Secure the data you have, then encrypt it with my public key and put it on two storage cells. Then -- this is important -- wipe the server and the log files. Vanca will send Korn her access codes shortly." Vanca pointed a claw at the camera and glared at him. "Korn will not feel tempted to use the codes to go poking his muzzle anywhere else. Vanca expects Hive Security will be auditing the Institute before another day passes."

Korn swallowed, heart thundering. Hive Security had a fearsome reputation. "Y-yes, Academician, Korn understands. What does Vanca want Korn to do with the storage cells?"

Vanca smiled thinly at the fear in Korn's expression. "Keep them safe." She cut the connection.

Korn slumped back in his chair, half convinced it had all been some kind of bad dream, until a tone from his bracer told him of a change to his security permissions. Turning back to his terminal he authenticated at his new level and set to work.

===

Vanca killed the connection to her student, lips curling up in a snarl. With a supreme effort of will she calmed her features and tapped the comm code for Councillor Indutu's office. A short pause and her screen lit up with the face of a young male with impeccably groomed fur. "Academician Vanca for the Councillor, it's urgent."

"This one is sorry, Academician, Councellor Indutu is not available," the male replied in a smooth voice.

Vanca clenched her teeth in frustration. "Indutu needs this information immediately." The fur on the back of her neck stood on end as she had a sudden premonition as to why the Councillor was not available. "You will tell Indutu that Vanca knows what caused the military emergency." 

A flash of shock crossed the receptionist's face and was quickly suppressed. Vanca grinned widely; the creatures the Councillor had on comms duty all looked like pretty, empty things, but they weren't stupid.

Suddenly business-like, the male did something to a console out of the camera's view. "Please hold." The screen was replaced with the Synod seal.

Vanca paced up and down the short corridor outside the banqueting hall, obscurely glad to be away from the politics and influence pedalling she'd been forced into to keep her research program alive for almost a gigasecond. Vanca paused in her pacing for a moment -- that was nearly thirty years. If she was right all that would be over, what she had discovered would boost Lacunae Hive to pre-eminence, perhaps even to the domination of the other Hives. She shook her head, the stupidity of those ancient wars, the short sighted treaties that had split the six Creation Stones and prevented their use in modern times. She growled in the back of her throat. Where was that fool Indutu? 

Abruptly her comms display changed and she brought it expectantly up to her face. Councillor Indutu sat behind a desk, pale fur looking dishevelled, while an inset window showed the head of someone she recognised from the news casts. A grey furred face raked by pale scars and flanked by mismatched ears, one little more than a tattered nub. Neither of them looked particularly pleased. 

"Strategist Faungo. It is an honour," Vanca said, nodding to them both.

"What do you think you know, Academician?" he replied, face bland and voice empty of expression.

"A bit less than half a kilosecond ago the Hive's early warning sensors detected an thaumomagnetic pulse with a very specific signature. One matching the trace profile measured from the Hive's Creation Stone."

The Strategist raised an eyebrow, then smiled slightly, thin lips pulling back from abnormally large canine teeth. "It is up to Indutu, but Faungo thinks Vanca should be told. Faungo suspects she knows more than we do, anyway."

Indutu tiredly waved a paw at Faungo. "Fine, it's not like there's much to tell."

Faungo nodded his grizzled head. "This is a view from STAR five, a few seconds before the pulse."

The Solar Transmission Authority Reflectors -- or heliostats as they were generally known, vital for maintaining the output of the vast farms -- were nominally under the control of the Solar Transmission Authority, one arm of the World Court. Even though the Court didn't allow actual military hardware in orbit, the big orbital mirrors were such an obvious threat that each Hive was allowed military personnel on the ones operating in its territory -- and there was no law against having good sensors. 

Vanca gazed in fascination at the video feed replacing the Strategist's head. A cloud swirled circle, the terminator a curved line separating the sunlit blue and green from darkness filled with sprays of night-time lights. A flash of static flickered over the window, then the view expanded rapidly, centred on Lacunae Hive's main arcology. The landscape was familiar, a dark shadowed pattern of hills and rivers scattered with pinpoints of white light surrounding the artificial mountain range of the Hive proper. A neat, circular hole had been cut in the pattern, a patch of absolute darkness. 

"This is the underlying tunnel network," Faungo continued his narration. "Contact was lost with all the network infrastructure within the circle."

A complex tangle of tunnels, layer upon layer, overlaid the dark image. This was the true bulk of the Hive, chambers and subterranean structures spread like matted hyphae around a fungal fruiting body. Outside the circle these were lit with dense code markers for active nodes -- comms units, computers, every bit of networked hardware -- but inside there was nothing. It was like someone had taken a ten kilolength bite out of the landscape. 

"The scale is impressive," said Vanca, slightly awed.

"Yes," said Faungo dryly. "Quite similar to a strategic thaumomagnetic pulse weapon. It was fortunate that a defence analyst noticed the lack of a thermal pulse that would have accompanied such a nuclear pumped thaumic device, otherwise this conversation would have been unlikely."

"The Deadpaw was activated?" Vanca said in a calm voice that belied the sudden feeling of cold that settled in her chest. Her mind's eye travelled out over the Hive's territory, out along the clusters of servitor-powered heavy lift launchers scattered throughout their land and ocean spaces. Early on in her academic career she'd specialised in weapon physics and knew better than most the devastation that could be released in a few tenths of a kilosecond by those massed launchers and their cavernous magazines. All of those weapons, along with other, more esoteric systems, tied into an isolated command network able to automatically retaliate in event of armageddon, the so-called 'Deadpaw'. 

"That analyst will be receiving a commendation from the Synod." Faungo grinned his deaths-head smile, then continued in a mild tone. "That is the sum total of this one's knowledge. Is there anything the Academician would care to share?"

Vanca suppressed a slight shiver at that. From what she'd heard, that same tone of voice had ordered everything from the quiet internment of suspected enemy Hive agents to the bombardment of a civilian settlement during the abortive Three Day War with Baur Hive. Strategist Faungo was the nominal head of both the Hive military and its internal security force; as such he was not someone to offend. She talked quickly, knowing that every second could be vital. "The Strategist understands that the Institute's goal is to understand the fundamentals of magic? During this research, Vanca has used the servitor race as test subjects -- pony adaptability has produced some impressive results."

"It has been very expensive in servitors," Indutu grumbled. "The eugenics program exists for more than just Vanca's benefit."

Vanca ignored that sally. "Watch this," she said, sending the final few seconds of video that Korn had shown her.

The Strategist looked thoughtful, one claw tapping against his muzzle. The Councillor just looked impatient. 

"Well, what does it mean?" Indutu said.

"The fog is water condensing, that means the air temperature dropped significantly during the test. The servitor was drawing power from its surroundings, rather than just itself."

The Strategist looked sharply at Vanca. "That's supposed to be impossible."

Vanca felt a surge of relief. Praise the Maker, Faungo actually understands! "Yes... but it does match the theoretical behaviour of the Creation Stones."

"There are stories... from when the servitors were created," the Strategist began.

"The last recorded use of the Stones, yes."

Indutu looked from one to the other, confused. The Strategist took pity on him. "The Academician thinks she has created a way to replicate the power of the Stones."

Indutu blinked, momentarily stunned. "That changes everything," he whispered. Then, in a firm voice. "What does the Academician need?"

"Immediate recovery of the servitor, or more likely its corpse, and any witnesses."

"Do it," the Councillor said to the Strategist. Then, turning his gaze to the Academician; "Vanca believes it is dead?"

Vanca waggled her paw. "It seems probable. The veterinarian on site used a mercy wand. Even so, an autopsy would be of great value. A live subject would be easier to work with, but the tests Vanca has in mind would result in its euthanisation eventually." The areas of the brain responsible for magic control were well understood; direct electrical stimulation would make the rest of the brain unnecessary. She looked at the Strategist, who had just finished speaking to someone out of camera view. "How long will it take?"

The Strategist smiled tightly. "Vanca's little test subject lit up every thaumatoloical sensor on this side of the planet. Everything Lacunae has is moving, as are our neighbour's strategic assets. If there isn't an attack carrier at the site by now, Faungo will want to know why."


> 05 - You can take the gryphon out of the raptor...
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist

=== Chapter 5 (remastered): You can take the gryphon out of the raptor... ===


The Pattern turned its attention back to the self-replicating organics spread across the deep ocean floor. A few changes -- and more endless slow seconds to allow for the glacial motion of atoms -- and it had a molecule able to capture that fleeting energy and store it in a more useful form. Green slime started to spread across the ocean and land and, in time, the sky turned from red and grey to blue and white. The experiments continued; eventually there were things walking, crawling, running and flying in the new oxygen rich atmosphere.

By now the Pattern was spread throughout space-time underlying the bubble; it had complete knowledge of the deep physics and a corresponding complete control over everything that happened, down to individual trajectories of single atoms if it wished to. Its experiments in biology had proved an interesting diversion; the complex dynamics of species interactions to build a functioning, self sustaining biosphere had taxed even its mental powers. But now it could do... what? It had nothing left to research, no experiments left to run with this system. For a moment it considered opening the barrier that held back the chaos, dissolving this little universe and starting again. 

===

The sky was a black dome only marked by the band of scattered points from the debris ring and a few heliostats. Even though Celestia had set long ago the training facility was still in use. It provided a safe place for more advanced lessons, consisting of a central building housing all the monitoring and control systems -- normally unoccupied, but with facilities for the Masters to observe, if they wished -- and a double ring of deep crater-like bays surrounding it. While many ponies were with their families for the few 'off' kiloseconds the Masters insisted on or, like Fusion's parents, still at their places of work, there was a small group of older students a few bays over. These students -- still yet to receive the Blessing -- were being escorted by the tan and black form of Random Walk. Fusion grinned to herself; she'd try and catch her friend after this last test was over. 

Fusion, Gravity and Animal separated when they reached the opening to the nearest safety bay. Gravity and Animal climbed the slope to the top of the berm, leaving Fusion standing in the opening. Suddenly nervous, the white mare hesitated, staring down into the central pit. This was a nearly bare, circular arena of concrete maybe eight bodylengths across at the bottom of steep-sided grass-lined walls. At its centre was a copper coloured loop of metal, three bodylengths across. Fusion swallowed, mouth suddenly dry as she remembered that other copper ring, the one surrounded by shadowy machines in a brightly lit subterranean chamber. Gritting her teeth, she trotted down the ramp, over the metal and into the centre of the bay. Reaching out with her magic she retrieved a pair of tungsten spheres, duplicates of the ones she'd used at the corral, letting them lie between her forehooves.

"Ready when you are, sis," Gravity said, settling down on her belly at the top of the berm, facing Fusion where she stood in the pit. Animal Scanner did the same on her other side, pulling out his remote medical link and connecting it to the distant Hive. Gravity activated the safety systems in the training area; bright amber strobe lights started to run in circles around the perimeter of the arena while a gauzy field of light sprung up from the metal ring. Fusion shook her head, suddenly feeling terribly lonely, locked off from the normal magical background inside what to her magical sight was a hollow sphere of total darkness. She lifted the two tungsten spheres over her head and tied them together with an invisible strand of force, then started the whole thing spinning about its common centre.

Fusion steadily fed power into the spinning balls, using magic to both accelerate them and keep them a fixed distance apart. Within a few breaths they were chromium blurs, their motion filling the shielded ring with a rising hum and a strengthening breeze. Fusion could start to feel the strain, a tension building up in her neck and the base of her horn, as she gritted her teeth and bent her will to accelerating the weights further. The individual masses were no longer visible; to the unassisted eye the mare stood under an apparently solid toroid, alternately silver and amber with reflections of the safety strobes. The tone had become a high keening, and the wind was strong enough to force Fusion to close her eyes against the dust whipped up by the miniature cyclone. Following them solely by shadow sight, she poured her power in the telekinesis spell, turning the normally gentle glow into a pulsing ring of fire.

It was getting hard now; air resistance had built up to something fierce, but this was dwarfed by the effort it was taking to hold the spheres in their circular orbits. Her own strength had reached its limit but she wanted to do more, had to do more -- the Masters were relying on her! There had to be some way to get more power... Her awareness narrowed down to only the spinning balls; with eyes closed and ears flat against the sides of her head she tensed every muscle in a final effort. She was suddenly aware of something else, the hint of something warm yet incredibly distant. Fusion focused on it, using it as a reference point. 

A thought from nowhere struck her and she realised that there was something she could do to get more power, a subtle transform in how she manifested her magic. Fusion took the power she was applying to the metal spheres and gave it a twist. Suddenly she felt... fuzzy... hazy... as if made of mist, her being diffusing out from her physical body to fill the shielded area. Here was the source of more energy; she didn't have to be limited by her own body, she could pull it from all around her!

Fusion reached out and started to drain energy from the ground and the air. A mist filled the shielded area, dense enough that if she'd had her eyes open the mare would have had difficulty seeing the perimeter berm. Beneath her hooves the ground developed a sheen of frost, thin needles rapidly growing then breaking off in the pocket tornado. A deep chill lanced up her ankles, but despite the sudden cold Fusion was sweating heavily, the liquid instantly freezing on her flanks and coating her fur with a thickening layer of ice. 

Outside the force field, Gravity pounded her hooves on the grass, shouting with pleasure at this new trick that was allowing her sister to perform this extreme feat of magic; she'd never been able to perform this test for so long or at such a high speed, and she was good at this. Then she caught sight of Animal's expression. The stallion's wings had flicked half open and his eyes had widened with shock when the force field had filled with fog. He surged to his hooves and stared at something on an instrument he was pointing at Fusion, mouth working as if trying to speak. A sudden spike of fear stabbed at Gravity. Jumping up she galloped around the top of the berm to stand next to Animal, nosing under one crimson wing to look at the display floating in front of him. The sudden contact jolted him out of his shock and he dropped the sensor, but not before Gravity got a glimpse of an exponential power plot.

"We've got to stop her!" he shouted. "It's too much!"

Behind them both, an alarm started to add its wail to the almost deafening howl of the spheres, an appallingly loud synthesised voice adding the racket. "Emergency, evacuate area, safety limits exceeded. Thaumophysical excursion in progress."

"Fusion Pulse!" he bellowed against the racket. "Stop! For the Master's sake, stop!"

Within the mist-filled dome something stirred. Both ponies looked on in amazement as the indistinct six limbed shape of Fusion appeared to rise up off the ground, surrounded by an irregular white halo. The glow brightened and eerie flickers of miniature lightening pulsed between head and upraised wings before grounding out on the shield in total silence. Gravity shivered as her sister appeared to open her eyes, two pure white spheres of brilliant light that lit the fog like the lights of a cargo lifter in a cloud. The sound of moving metal grew louder still and rose in pitch.

Animal cast a pleading eye at Gravity while frantically emptying the contents of his equipment harness onto the grass. Picking up a cylindrical case from the pile he popped the lid and shook out a slim crystal rod. Discarding the case Animal levitated the water-clear wand in a field of crimson magic and did something that sent waves of deep purple light running down it. Gravity's eyes widened when she recognised the instrument; that was a mercy wand!

"No, you can't!" she cried, shoulder barging the larger pony away from the device. 

Animal cursed and shoved her away with a pulse of magic, then lifted the rod and pointed it at Fusion. A brilliant purple pinpoint flicked down its length then sprang from the tip to dart at the pony in the pit, only to be batted aside at the last instant by Gravity. With a snarl Animal Scanner swung around and pointed the wand at the blue pony, its tip glowing like a captive purple star.

"Do. Not. Interfere," The stallion ground out with a curious mix of anger and sorrow. "These are my Master's standing orders."

Gravity Resonance wilted under that glare and the sudden wave of pain that came with the knowledge that she'd tried to subvert the will of the Masters. No pony would dream of disobeying an order, but that didn't stop the sudden rush of grief washing over her and blurring her vision. Unless... she closed her eyes and used her magic to scan her surroundings. The world was suddenly black shadows and silence, no grass, warning strobes or debris ring light. The dim shape in front of her was Animal Scanner, horn and wing edges highlighted with red light. Floating next to him was an achingly deep violet splinter, already turning on its axis to point at... what?

The centre of the pit was filled with a hazy dome of white light, within which was a pony shining with an eye-searing magnesium glare, painful to behold. Gravity redirected her magical sight desperately searching for... there! Over the figure's head was a disk of light, almost appearing solid except for a subtle flicker suggesting a horrible speed. Gravity hurriedly reached out with her magic and felt over the glassy surface of the force field, hunting for the gaps she knew were there. 

This was no military containment field able to block fast projectiles, explosion pressure waves or thaumatological attacks. Instead, it only had enough influence on normal physical matter to damp the secondary effects of runaway magic. Mainly it was designed to stop two kinds of high energy thaumic accidents. The first were the short lived spells that sometimes spalled off the workings of inexperienced ponies. These randomised bursts of magic were highly unpredictable and could result in anything from simple physical destruction to the total conversion of an affected object to something else. The second... it was not unknown for a pony to try too hard and end up losing control of his or her magic. The poor unfortunate experienced an exponential increase in magical power and, without a safety field, would cause an enormous amount of damage to their surroundings, right up until they were hit by one of their own pulses of uncontrolled magic. The end result was invariably messy and if the pony was lucky they would die immediately. 

This was first and foremost a training centre, and one of the requirements of good magical training was the ability to give students feedback on their progress. To this end, the field wasn't completely impermeable to magic, the various sensors and scanners could work through it -- and that meant weak spots. Gravity reached in through one of these openings with all her considerable strength and snapped the force line tying the tungsten spheres together.

The spheres vanished with an ear-shattering bang and a thump that shook Gravity off her hooves. They passed through the force field as if it wasn't there and punched deep craters in the berm wall. All the lights failed at once, and the sudden darkness and silence was only broken by the gentle patter of falling dirt and a hiss of vaporising water from deep inside the berm. Gravity got her hooves back under her and leaned forward to peer down into the pit. Here the darkness was broken by a lurid orange glow from the shield emitter, now nothing more than a broken ring of molten metal, the light reflecting off the ice covered ground within it. Fusion Pulse stood at the centre of that circle, swaying slightly and looking blearily round at the devastation.

"That was stupid," Animal said to Gravity in a quiet voice, dropping the mercy wand. "But it worked. Thank you." He tapped the inert rod with his hoof, making a dull thunk, voice trailing off into a mumble. "I hate that thing." He sighed, eyed the now dead medical scanner, and started to reassemble his equipment harness.

Gravity opened her mouth to say something sarcastic, but seeing the look of relief in the stallion's face thought better of it and just nodded. Turning her back on him she lit her horn and flicked open her wings to glide down to where Fusion was looking with some trepidation into one of the holes punched into the berm. Somewhere deep inside she could see something glow yellow, that and the occasional burst of steam, made her keep her distance.

"What happened?" Fusion called to her sister as the other pony landed in the pit. Her tone turned pleading as she gestured around the pit with her wings, taking in ice and molten metal. "Where... how... What happened?"

"What's the last thing you remember?" Gravity said carefully, studying her sister intently.

"I was focused on the exercise, trying to get a little more speed -- you know how it is -- when I felt something give inside me and I got... bigger." Fusion groped for the right words, but there weren't any. There was also that distant point of warmth and the idea that had come from nowhere, but something about the experience had been so dreamlike that she was half convinced it hadn't happened. She stared back into her sister's furrowed brow, ears flicking back with a sudden impatience. "Well? What did you see?"

Gravity sighed. "You maxed out the exercise chamber's safety systems. Animal Scanner tried to get you to stop, but you obviously didn't hear him or the alarms. He was going to use a mercy wand on you."

Fusion gulped and turned to stare at stallion looking back at her from the berm top. "Why didn't he?"

"Because I stopped him," Gravity said simply. "I broke the force line holding the spheres together, figured that would get your attention."

"It did," Fusion murmured, turning back to the crater in the pit wall. "How... how fast was I going at the end?"

Gravity laughed and slapped Fusion on the back of the head with one wing, then started to pick ice out of her sister's coat. "Fast enough to prove you are fully recovered, and then some. You think you can show me how you did that?" she said with an eager voice, leaning forward expectantly.

Fusion shrugged her wings, feeling slightly frustrated. "Sure, if I can understand what it was I did! Can't you tell me anything else?"

Her sister hopped from hoof to hoof for a second, looking thoughtful. "At the end I was watching you." Here she waggled her horn meaningfully. "You were really bright -- all over too, not just your horn -- and at the centre of a glowing cloud. It looked like you had spread out, and rather than just your horn generating the magic, it was your whole body. Even the air and ground around you seemed to be involved. That extra energy had to come from somewhere, though." She eyed the still frozen ground. "It looked like you were being held in check by the safety field. The Masters only know what might have happened otherwise. Oh, and you blew out all the lights."

Both ponies stared off into space, lost in thought, until the sound of hoof falls and a polite whinny brought them back. Animal Scanner, now wearing his equipment harness again, opened his mouth to speak, but Fusion got there first.

"Decided not to kill me then?" she said acidly, eyes narrowed and ears back.

A pained expression, followed by shame flickered across the stallion's face. "There are standing orders in event of an excursion. I've seen it before." He shuddered. "At least the mercy wand would have been fast." 

"Orders... from what I hear you were a bit quick to reach that decision. Not interpreting your orders a little creatively?" As the last sentence escaped her lips Fusion snapped her mouth shut and cringed reflexively against the stab of pain... which never came. This shocked her even more, and she froze for a second before relaxing.

Animal Scanner stared at her, brow furrowed in confusion, then shook his head and snorted. "I would have thought you'd be old enough not to follow that line of reasoning." His voice became emotionless, almost machine-like. "You are clearly fit for duty; if anything you are significantly stronger than before your accident. I'm sure the Masters will want to study you in detail." He offered her a mirthless smile. "Congratulations."

Fusion glared back at him, but her retort was interrupted by an ear shattering double bang from somewhere overhead. All three ponies looked up, but whatever had made the noise was over their limited horizon before they could react. Gravity and Animal immediately took off for the top of the berm while Fusion, still too shaky to trust her wings, trotted back up the ramp to join them a few seconds later. Something was coming towards them, a dark grey arrowhead moving low and fast in complete silence, only really visible were it occulted the debris ring. In a flash it had expanded from a hoof width to filling the sky overhead, dark objects tumbling out of a line of openings in its belly.

===

Flysoldat Athils Gunnulf was tired. Combat Flight School had seemed like such a good idea twenty two days ago. Sign up for the CFS, be the part of the top five percent of gryphons that became the Hive's Talons. If he made it he'd get the best duty, better quarters -- even extra breeding rights. Not one of those days had gone past where he'd not regretted that decision. He'd had no real sleep, not enough food and far too much exercise, but even so he'd never quite given up on that dream. This last day had been the worst so far. The mid course eliminator; nearly a hundred kiloseconds of constant physical training. Non-stop simulated missions under fire and high speed/ low altitude flying -- all while being berated by the instructors -- had left him with a bone-deep muscle ache from foreclaws to rearpaws and tufted tail-tip. If you'd asked him -- and he'd had enough energy to reply -- he'd have said that even his beak hurt. 

"What are you, a chick? Pick up that pack and move your paws!"

Gunnulf groaned, opened his beak and gripped the pack straps. With a grunt he tensed his shoulders and neck, then levered the hated thing off the ground. It was about half his own bodyweight and far too heavy to fly with. With an awkward waddle he staggered towards the loading ramp of the attack carrier, muscles burning and vision so blurred he could barely see where he was going. An eternity later he felt a gentle touch through the feathers on his shoulder.

"Son," said a quiet voice, the first gentle tones he'd heard since yesterday, "you can stop now."

"S...stop?" he said, dropping the pack with a thump.

The other gryphon, a goshawk variant that was all steel grey feathers and fur, and big even without the bulky equipment harness and armour set, stood there and gaped at Gunnulf with an avian grin. "You made it, good job." Then he stood up straight and glared at the exhausted soldier. "Flysoldat, are you uninjured and fit to continue?"

"Yes sersjant!" Gunnulf shouted, fluffing up his own white head feathers and snapping his beak shut with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

"Excellent. Stow your gear and get on the carrier." The sersjant waved Gunnulf away, then trotted back down the line to berate the next arrivals.

The flysoldat swayed where he stood for a few seconds, then shook his head and walked slowly towards the loading ramp. Savouring the sudden lack of trainers shouting at him -- and not quite ready to test his trembling legs on the steep ramp -- Gunnulf watched the bustle around the attack carrier. The fat bodied arrowhead, almost twenty lengths from aerospike nose to ramjet tail, rested on five thick legs in the middle of a smashed and broken section of forest. All of its various access hatches were open; the rear ramp Gunnulf was using, the middle ports with a small herd of tired looking ponies, and the front drop bays with a squad of bipedal power armour clustered around a portable tactical table. 

The ponies -- under instruction by one of the Masters of the flight crew -- appeared to be dismantling one of the big lifter fans in the carrier's left wing. A multihued glow surrounded the fan as it was broken up, each blade flying off and changing from dull-and-pitted to bright-and-shiny before being slotted back into the motor hub. As Gunnulf watched the fan was inserted up into its housing, the ponies staggering as if suddenly stopping some gargantuan effort. One even appeared to pass out, rolling onto its side with chest working like bellows, as the telekinetic glow faded. 

Pathetic grass eater, Gunnulf thought with a sneer, you should try doing some real work for a change.

What was of more interest was the group of Masters in powered armour. This was the first chance he'd had to actually study them -- he'd seen them before, but generally only for a second just after his command collar had given him a brief shock that announced his simulated death. Half again as tall as a standing gryphon, with smooth egg-like armour surfaces studded with sensors, field generators and other less identifiable hardware. Dogboys, Gunnulf thought, that's what the other troopers had called them. He thought about it some more, then decided in a rare moment of insight never to actually say that in front of one of them. At the moment all five were deep in conversation, one of the suits making emphatic gestures at something on the tactical table. 

Gunnulf gazed at the suits in envy, just think of the damage I could do with one of those, he thought, then rolled his eyes. Like a gryphon's ever gonna get anything like that!

Still thinking over the impossible, the young gryphon idly scratched under his command collar with one claw then slowly levered himself up the ramp and into the red-lit belly of the attack carrier. Stepping into the half full drop bay, he shuffled into the next available space, unclipping his autogun from its recoil mount and hanging it from the ceiling rack that ran down the middle of the bay. Hooking onto the anchor points he tried to get comfortable, but the rest of the exhausted squad trickling in behind him was a constant disturbance. Gunnulf passed the time by trying to tell where one gryphon stopped and another began in the three dimensional puzzle of equipment and avian solider. This particular CFS group had the normal range of gryphon genealogies; most were white-headed eagle types like himself, but there were a few others from the more experimental parts of the Master's eugenics programmes, including the buzzard-based Alfgeir in front of him and a dark eyed peregrine Svartr over on the other side of the bay. Finally all the gryphons had finished the exercise and the ramp closed with a whine to leave them all in silence, until the lifter fans spooled up and the carrier accelerated into the sky. 

At least now he could rest for a few precious kiloseconds. Gunnulf and the rest of the squad of flysoldat had made it half way through Combat Flight School, and if they survived the rest would be inducted into the prestigious Talons -- Lacunae Hive's gryphon shock troops. Packed into the drop bay of the attack carrier with the other twelve gryphons and a small mountain of gear, he rested his beak against flysoldat Adigard Alfgeir's equipment panniers. The other soldier lifted his red-brown feathered head to glare half-heartedly at Gunnulf, then turned away, too tired to do any more about this infringement of his personal territory.

Gunnulf slumped in his harness in a kind of haze, lulled by the drone of the attack carrier's engines, but unable to sleep despite his exhaustion. A sudden surge of acceleration and an abrupt jump in the carrier's engine noise brought him back to the real world. Looking around he saw sersjant Geirstein Kafli jerk upright and start to talk to someone on his communicator. He watched Kafli's eyes widen and heard the formal beak-snap that signified the acceptance of a command. Oh crap, he thought, here it comes. There'd been rumours about this; lull them into a false sense of security then hit them with another exercise just as they thought it was all over.

"Paws and claws you featherbrains, paws and claws!" the sersjant yelled, slapping the alert key on his controller and sending a painfully loud warble though every flysoldat's earbud. "While I am evil enough to give you fluffballs some more punishment after today, it turns out I won't need to. You will be ready for a combat drop in three hundred seconds. Korporals -- issue thumpers and standard kinetic ammo packs." The sersjant glared around the compartment, bright yellow eyes taking in the shocked stillness of his soldiers. "Move it!"

The gryphons jumped into motion like someone had rolled a grenade into the drop bay. Gunnulf shook his head in confusion while his foreclaws worked with the automatic motions of long training. Twist here to unlock his primary harness from the bay's anchor points, reach up and connect it to the static line there on the drop track running along the ceiling. Repeat with the backup line, then pick up the stubby autogun from the rack running down the centre of the ceiling and attach it to the sliding mount that ran down his right side from shoulder to wing root. Next came the helmet and visor, the latter flashing up 'connection successful' symbols as it paired with his collar, before he flicked it up to its retracted position. He flexed his back to settle the now loaded armour rig, then reaching out to take the pair of heavy drums passed down the row of flysoldats from his korporal. A quick flick with a thumb claw popped the seal and...

"By the First Egg, these things are real," he said in an awed whisper, staring at the tight spiral of ruby crystals, each capped by a bright silver needle. He elbowed Alfgeir's tawny hind quarters, earning himself an irritable reflexive snap from the other's beak. "This is a real mission!" Gunnulf was practically dancing on the spot with suppressed excitement.

Alfgeir rolled his eyes and went back to clipping ammunition drums into his feeder unit. "Yes, you fool, I had noticed." He shook all over to settle his harness, then looked over his shoulder at Gunnulf. "Perhaps you should think about it before you get too eager. We're right in the middle of Hive territory and they've diverted us -- a unit in training -- to the scene. Run that little detail through your tiny brain."

Gunnulf was silent for a second, then brightened. "It must be pretty bad, terrorist or black-ops team or something. We're going to see combat!"

Alfgeir stared at him open beaked, then narrowed his eyes. "Are you for real? No, claw that, I don't want to know." He turned away, resolutely ignoring Gunnulf's prattle, trying to push down the cold feeling welling up in his chest. Closing his eyes he offered up a wordless prayer to whoever might be listening. Why am I always in front of the eager ones? he thought despairingly. I hope that idiot can keep his beak off that bite trigger until we deploy. He shivered as a series of metallic noises behind him announced that Gunnulf was feeding the first round into his autogun, relaxing slightly only when he heard the safety go on.

"Listen up chicks, eyes front," the sersjant shouted over the carrier's roar, using his controller to activate the bulkhead screen. "This is the objective. Approximately four hundred seconds ago someone detonated a thaumic pulse bomb right here." A satellite photo of some surface structure surrounded by deep pits, a green cross over one of them. Two clusters of little red markers crawled across the surface. "We will be dropped here," a green circle popped into being next to the larger of the two clusters, "and contain this group of targets. The dogboy spec-ops team will handle the other group. All visible targets appear to be ponies, but be alert for camouflaged hostiles." The sersjant glared around the compartment again, punctuating his next words with gunshot-loud beak snaps. "You will not use those standard kinetics unless fired upon. Is that clear?" He waited for all his soldiers to snap their beaks in acknowledgement before continuing in a gentler tone. "Remember your training and follow your korporal's orders. Keep your heads and we'll all get to go back to the aerie."

Within a few claw-fulls of seconds of this briefing the sound of the engines died back to a distant purr. Gunnulf cocked his head to one side, trying to place the new noises. From somewhere in front of him, deep in the belly of the carrier, was coming a high pitched whine, almost like one of the hatches was being opened. He felt the feathers rise on his neck and head, a thrill of excitement and adrenaline burning away any residual tiredness, as the deck bucked underneath his paws.

"Hey, Alfgeir," he whispered fiercely. "What's going on?"

The other gyrphon stiffened and was silent for a few seconds. "Sounds like the maintenance bay door."

"The one with the ponies... why are they opening that?"

"How the..." Alfgeir sighed, as irritating as he found Gunnulf it was a good question. "They must be in a hurry to drop off some of the maintenance ponies. I can only assume that when we get to the target we'll be picking more up. Which means that it’s the ponies that--" The gryphon snapped his beak shut as the lights flickered three times and a low buzz sounded through his command collar.

"Drop warning, check your lines." The voice of the carrier's computer was obviously mechanical, a harsh grating buzz that had no chance of being mistaken for anything other than what it was. Thirteen sets of talons reached up and rattled the paired quick release fittings, then snapped down protective visors.

"Bay door opening." Cool night air and the howl of a turbulent high velocity airstream filled the drop bay. Above the opening a green '5000' flashed, then spooled down, counting the milliseconds until drop.

Gunnulf danced on his hindpaws and foreclaws, wings half unfurled, as he waited for the sudden tug on his static line. The counter reached zero and the pair of flysoldat at the front of the line leapt forward, wings flicking out as they cleared the back of the carrier. Gunnulf tensed his hindlegs as a heartbeat later the next pair were thrown out.  Finally it was his turn.

With a brutal surge of acceleration Gunnulf was pulled out of the carrier by his harness. Tumbling in the slipstream he waited the required two seconds to drop below the engines, then eased his wings open and glided into the darkness.
> 06 - ...but you can't take the raptor out of the gryphon. 
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist

Author's note: this chapter contains some graphic violence.

Could it face that again? To what end? It knew it could build a new home, but what then? There was nothing left to do, nothing new left to discover. The Pattern bent its considerable intellect to the problem and eventually found a solution it could live with... in a way. What had to happen was that it needed to become less than it was. It inspected its creation looking for a possible starting point; the creature had to be large enough to accommodate some small fraction of the Pattern, enough so it would still know something of itself.

There was a tunnel dweller, mainly bipedal, with long, clawed paws and an elongated head with heavy jaws. Some things had to be changed, of course; the brain case was too small and the forepaws didn't have the dexterity to be a tool user. Not yet, anyway.

=== Chapter 6 (remastered): ...but you can't take the raptor out of the gryphon. ===

Shock Diamond stood frozen with fear as the creature bore down upon him. A crazy mismatch of parts, half big cat and half monstrous bird, it galloped straight at him with wings flicking and tail lashing. Some small part of his mind noted the bulky equipment harness, armour vest and tubular device attached to one shoulder, that said this was a tool user and could be reasoned with. A far larger part saw the horn length talons on the forelegs and the cruel, sharp beak and was screaming run, run, RUN! Leg muscles locked solid he could only stare, mesmerised by the large, yellow eyes piercing his soul like the lights of an oncoming cargo floater. 

When the lesson had started there had been no hint of the nightmare to come. Single Crystal, Base Pair and himself had joined the rest of the current crop of soon to be Blessed ponies for an evening practice session in some of the higher energy magics. Shepherded by Random Walk, they had all flown to the centre to investigate where they thought their special talents might lie; Shock had tested high for field effects and was eager to practice some of the more unusual types without the risk of further property damage. 

That had not been his finest kilosecond. That field had been perfect -- spherical, strong and very thin -- but he'd not taken into account the nearby wall when he'd created the bubble. It had taken two adults to dig him out of the rubble; the structural supports were sliced cleanly where the field had passed through them. His parents had complimented him on his skill - then put him to work fixing the damage, banning any further experimentation outside of the training centre. 

There was a subliminal thump from over his left shoulder and something flickered in front of his muzzle with a blur of motion. Ahead, only a few lengths from where he stood, the horn light of Phased Array vanished as she collapsed in a heap. Then the screaming really started. There had been shouts of panic when the creatures had dropped from the darkness to encircle the class -- apart from one who had misjudged his landing and scattered the herd -- but this was different. Phased's high-pitched keening wail cut through the ice in Shock's mind like the weather team clearing an unplanned rainstorm. The little blue colt bolted. 

Dashing through the confused melee, Shock pumped his wings and became airborne. The wings of ponies his age were too short for them to be particularly fast fliers, but this, coupled with their light weight, made them immensely manoeuvrable. He caught a glimpse of his pursuer out of the corner of one eye; the thing had spread its wings and was closing the gap with frightening speed. The colt's wings blurred to humming-bird speeds as he tried to accelerate, but the monster was faster. A flash of talon and he turned on one wing-tip, evading the grab at the cost of a few indigo tail hairs. This gained him a few precious seconds and he dived around the side of the darkened training centre, momentarily out of sight.

Casting about desperately, he spotted that one of the maintenance hatches wasn't completely closed; he dove for it, hitting the door and slamming it fully open with a crash. Stunned for an instant, Shock Diamond rolled to a stop at the bottom of a steep set of metal stairs. He lay there panting in the darkness, eyes fixed on the pale shifting radiance coming through the open hatch. Something big and bird-like cast a momentary shadow across the opening. The colt let out an involuntary whinny, then clamped his forehooves over his muzzle in horror as something landed outside with a rush of feathers and a puff of grass-scented air. 

There was the sound of claws scratching against the stone slabs that encircled the building, then for an instant there was the clear silhouette of a hook-beaked head against the reflected light. The head turned with a quick, jerky motion and appeared to scan the short corridor leading up to the stairs. The colt held his breath, hoping the near absolute darkness would hide him, but then the rest of the creature stepped forward, completely filling the opening and blocking its meagre illumination. 

"Hey, pony, I'm not gonna--" 

He didn't hear the rest. The raspy voice ran through Shock Diamond like a lightning bolt, and he wriggled to his hooves and scrambled up the stairs, slipping and sliding on the metal mesh. At the top he rammed an unseen wall head first and collapsed in a heap, knocked senseless for an instant. The world came back in a rush with the sound of something heavy stepping on to the bottom step. Shakily standing up, he generated a brief flash of light, then galloped through the first available opening. One more flash showed a narrow passageway lined with racks of silent machines arranged in an irregular pattern, shadowed alleyways opening between further racks and branching off into a room that appeared to occupy most of this floor. He couldn't see far before the passageway made a sharp turn to the left, and even that was rendered indistinct by the light haze of smoke hanging in the air. Closing his eyes against the irritant fog and trying to resist the urge to sneeze at the smell of burnt plastic, Shock extended his wings out and forwards. Letting the primary feathers brush against the metal shelves he trotted into the maze, taking turnings at random in total darkness. Behind him he could hear the creature step into the room and close the door.

"Come on, pony, don't make this harder than it has to be."

The voice echoed from the hard metal surfaces, sounding tired and irritated. Shock Diamond slowed to a hesitant walk, placing each hoof carefully and wincing with each hollow clop. 

"This is pointless! I've got a detailed map and infra-red here, there's no way you can hide from me." The voice, horrifyingly close, had softened and become almost gentle. "Look I know you must be scared -- I would be in your place -- but you've nothing to fear from me."

This was too much for Shock. "Liar! You shot my friend!" he screamed, then lit his horn and cast around wildly, looking for a way to escape. Through a narrow gap between two racks he saw another door, bigger than the first he'd used, a dark shadow marking where the panels had parted slightly when the powered locks had failed. Leaping forward, he wedged himself into the gap, wings folded all the way back and twisting his shoulders frantically to get past the banks of equipment. The racks were quite deep; he'd managed to get his entire body into the gap, muzzle just poking into the far side, when he felt the scaly claw grip his trailing hoof. The colt whinnied in shock, jerking convulsively but completely failing to dislodge the iron hard grip.

"Got you, you little--" 

Shock Diamond struggled violently, the sharp edges of the racks scoring unfelt scratches in his hide, but to no avail. Slowly he was drawn back out of his hiding place and, in desperation, he pushed backwards with his magic while kicking out as hard as possible with his hindlegs. There was a wordless yell and the sudden, complex sound of something falling into a stack of fragile instrumentation from behind him, then abruptly the pressure on his ankle vanished. Propelled forwards by his telekinetic shove, Shock popped free of the racks just as a taloned foreleg grasped at the space he'd just vacated. A brief backwards glance showed only a yellow eye, glittering with rage in his blue-white horn light. The eye's owner hissed loudly, wrapping its talons around the nearest rack and pulling violently. The whole stack moved slightly, its anchoring bolts pulling free of the floor with an ear-splitting metallic screech.

Trembling, Shock nosed through the double doors, then hesitated. He was standing on a landing halfway up a flight of stairs, with no clear indication what was above or below him. Down leads back out to the... things, up goes to the roof? He peered down into the dark, then up. At least that way there was some light, the same shifting, multicoloured glow he'd seen before. Biting his lips indecisively, the colt headed up the stairs, hooves suddenly silent on the richly carpeted floor. At the top was a large open space, a single big, circular room lined with wall to floor windows. Inside the floor was arranged things he'd only seen images of; the odd shapes of furniture designed for the Master's weird bipedal form amid rows of heavy looking desks. 

The colt looked at the stairs and the inward opening doors at the bottom, a wild idea forming in his head. The desks were far too heavy to lift directly, but he could reduce their mass a little... Putting a shoulder against the nearest one, he lifted up with his magic and shoved as hard as possible, sending it tumbling down the stairs to rest against the doors. Just in time too, as something angry pounded on the other side. Heart in his mouth, Shock Diamond watched as the doors flexed and bowed with each impact, but the piece of office furniture had wedged itself against the bottom step, and the panels wouldn't open more than a hoof's width. Wasting no time, he started to back to get another table, when a yellow eye appeared at the narrow gap.

"Pony," the gravelly voice said tiredly, "I'm going to have to demolish this door, so I'd step back if I were you. Why don't you trot off and look for another exit?" 

The blue colt stared in confusion. He's telling me to escape? he thought, then backed away nervously, suddenly worried by the lack of noise from the other side of the door. For a moment he contemplated trying his force bubble -- at least up here the walls were far enough away that he wouldn't destroy anything -- but then he'd be unable to escape if it wasn't strong enough. There was a series of bangs, so close together it was practically a single noise, then a tight cluster of holes appeared at the top corner of the door frame. Shock's eyes widened, those holes had pounded the upper hinge to scrap. He turned tail and ran, looking for a way out.

The room really did take up the whole top of the training centre building. Shock's gaze flickered around the room, looking for something, anything that might let him escape. A quick scan showed him nothing -- the central stairwell appeared to be the only way in or out -- but before he could run around the room for a closer look he was drawn to the moving glows outside the windows. Off in one of the distant pits he could see three ponies and a handful of bipedal shapes, but more interesting was what was happening at the base of the building. He could see the little horn glows of his class-mates, many in a tight herd guarded by the cat-bird things, but a few were still in the air and evading their much larger pursuers with some success. There was another burst of noise from the stairs, then another and another, followed by a crashing, ripping sound. 

There was a dragging noise, then the sound of heavy steps on the stairs. The colt shrank back as a beaked head cautiously poked around the wall surrounding the stairwell, followed by the rest of the creature. Now, with any hope of escape gone, Shock Diamond's churning mind finally recalled a half remembered description of the military forces used by the Masters. The things were gryphons, the Hive's front line shock troops; aggressive, fast and deadly. He wracked his brain for any information he could use; they had no magic, that was obvious, but more than made up for that with claws and a vicious beak. 

The gryphon stood at the top of the stairs, staring at the blue pony. "What's your name?" he said softly.

"Sh... Shock Diamond," the colt replied, cursing the hitch in his voice.

"I'm Adigard Alfgeir. You did good, colt, staying ahead of me like that. There's no shame in losing in a situation like this; you put up a good fight, that's what matters." The gryphon settled down on his haunches, starting to root around in his equipment harness. "Ah, here it is," he said, pulling out a tangled collection of slim plastic straps and meshwork. "Blasted things," he mumbled, giving it a shake and pulling at it with both foreclaws. "There we go. I'm sorry about this, but I'm going to have to bind your wings. Think of it as respect for a worthy opponent." Seeing Shock back away another few steps, the gryphon sighed and pulled the tube mounted on his back forward on a rail, grip the protruding handle in one claw and point it at a desk near the pony. A brilliant spot of green light appeared on the desk, followed by a loud thump and the shock of a heavy impact. The spot appeared on a chair on the other side of the colt and again there was the thump and impact, the chair spinning wildly on its pivot. A slim, dark grey cylinder, end flattened to the width of an adult's hoof and velocity almost spent, bounced away in a lazy arc. The little spot of light moved to Shock Diamond's chest and he cringed away, but it tracked him unerringly.

"I'm really good with this," Alfgeir said. "I don't want to shoot you, but I'm done chasing. Come here and I won't have to."

A flare of light distracted Shock before he could reply.  His eyes were drawn to a pin-point of orange, bright enough to cast distorted shadows and leave multicoloured spots dancing in his vision. That's Random Walk, he thought, if anypony can help, it's her. Keeping one eye on their teacher, Shock walked slowly towards the gryphon, dragging his hooves as much as possible. A sudden rattle of gunfire, muffled by the windows, made him pause and the colt watched open mouthed as a square of light appeared between Random and one rapidly retreating gryphon, flickering in time with the shots. More light flashed and the gun was ripped out of the gryphon's beak, the soldier flung tumbling in a high arc.

"Ignore the light show, pony, let's get this over with." Alfgeir, who had been keeping his eyes on the colt, reached forward and grabbed Shock Diamond by the neck, dragging him the last few paces. In quick, practiced motions he dropped the harness on the pony's back, snapping the locks closed at throat, withers and hip, before pulling the straps as tight as they'd go. Putting two claws between the straps and Shock's coat he gave the contraption a tug. "Hmm, you're not quite the right shape and you're too small -- but I think this will do." He looked thoughtfully at the last part of the restraints, the part designed to stop its normally beaked occupant from biting, then snorted and detached it. Finally the gryphon pulled a short line from another pocket, clipping one end to his equipment harness and the other to the locking point between Shock's wing roots. 

The gryphon relaxed somewhat, releasing his grip on the pony's indigo mane. The little colt had ignored him all through the fitting process, transfixed by the fight between Random and the other gryphon. Abruptly the pony stiffened, wings flaring uselessly against the mesh panels holding them down, then turned to Alfgeir with a look of desperation, one hoof pointing out the window.

"You've got to stop him, he's going to kill Random!"

The gryphon looked in that direction, just in time to see one of his squad-mates stamp heavily on the chest of a fallen pony. Cursing, he held down the button connecting him to his sersjant, then spoke rapidly before the other could acknowledge.

Shock Diamond didn't hear a word of what his captor said, his mind was too full of the horror unfolding outside. Unable to blink or look away, he watched the gryphon bend down and take a firm grip on Random's wing with his beak.

===

Gunnulf glided into the darkness, the mad, noisy rush of his initial velocity quickly bleeding away to the steady soaring pace his kind were known for. Through the display on his visor - already flashing flight path commands and a search zone -- he could see the shadowed landscape, all gentle rolling hills and patches of woodland interspersed with unnaturally dark buildings. A few points of light broke the darkness, multicoloured candle-flames illuminating quadrupedal forms in strange ways and casting monstrous shadows against the single large, cylindrical building at the centre of the target area. Glancing around to check the positions of his squad-mates, he reached back with his left claw to unfold his autogun's forward controller, pulling the gun forward on its track to click into 'ready' position, the controller's bite trigger next to his beak. Another flick selected the high velocity standard ammo rather than the fat, slow 'nonlethal' antipersonnel thumpers, then he was back to scanning his designated zone for anything hostile.

Two taps on his chest control pack opened a synthetic view in the visor over Gunnulf's left eye, a polychromatic false colour image to add to the targeting reticule the gun already supplied. Bright sparks of red marked both herds of ponies, barely perceptible pulses of violet flickering between them from the magic that always seemed to surround them. He could also see the Masters, dark bipeds embedded in glittering polygons of purple light, taking up positions around the smaller of the two herds. There was nothing else. No movement, no heat sources, no crystal thaumic signature, no electromagnetic leakage. His command collar vibrated twice in its silent 'combat mode', then a synthesised voice spoke in his earbud.

"Orders revised: no hostile forces expected, contain all pony or civilian contacts for immediate collection by Hive Security."

Gunnulf growled deep in his throat. Typical, knew it was too good to be true, he thought bitterly.

Stowing the autogun -- trying to land with a beak on one's bite trigger was a recipe for friendly fire -- Gunnulf 'whiffled', tilting over suddenly to spill air from his wings and loose height rapidly. Below him the ponies were milling about in one of the flat areas between the circular pits, maybe two dozen in total, most seeming smaller than he remembered. They seemed skittish, the little horn glows visible to his unaugmented right eye moving chaotically.

The gryphon's beak parted in a cold smile. Let me at least give them something to remember us by, Gunnulf thought with savage glee. 

Whiffling again, he dropped forty bodylengths in a couple of seconds, wings biting air just above the ground and letting him land with a sudden crash close to the herd of ponies. Perhaps too close, he realised, as most of the small forms scattered with high-pitched whinnies. Aw crap, he thought, that's torn it, as his squad-mates spread out to catch the fleeing ponies. A confused babble of commands were already starting to sound in his earbud, but so overlapped that he couldn't make anything distinctive out. Orders are orders: immediately and no high velocity. Squatting back on his haunches, Gunnulf pulled his autogun back into its firing position, gripping the forward controller with one foreclaw while the other flicked the feed from standard to nonlethal. He'd just settled the reticule on one of the fleeing figures when a heavy impact knocked him back onto his tail.

"In the Master's name, what do you think you're doing!? They're only foals."

This came from one of the few ponies not to gallop off away from the gryphons. It was bigger than the rest, but not quite up to the size of an adult, Gunnulf realised. This pony, with tan coat and a short black mane, had just shoulder barged him. Him! A sudden blinding fury filled him and Gunnulf reared up and snapped his free foreclaw out to catch the insolent herbivore on the side of its stupid head. The open clawed slap bowled the lighter pony horn over hooves into the grass, where it lie there and didn't move. Kicking the fallen pony with one hindpaw, Gunnulf turned away from the motionless figure and brought his gun back up. 

"Come to me, my little pony," he crooned, dropping the reticule over one of the foals, its faint, flickering horn light providing a perfect aiming marker. This one swayed back and forth on its hooves, seeming uncertain as to what it should do, shadows swelling and shrinking as its head swung from side to side in confusion. His claw stroked lovingly on the trigger and the gun bucked once, the shot startlingly loud even over the sound of the gryphons chasing the other ponies. The figure dropped to the ground and curled in on itself, screaming with a high pitched wail that ripped through the air like an attack siren. 

Gunnulf grinned. "Bit of a challenge next, I think," he muttered. Swinging the autogun around he settled the cross-hairs on a running foal, one keeping a few paces ahead of its pursuer. Despite the uncertain light, the combination of his predators' eyesight and his visor's enhancements meant he could clearly see the terror on the little filly's face, her eyes wide as she dodged her much larger hunter yet again. "You are an agile little thing, aren't you? Still, I'm here to help my friends..." His autogun thundered and the pony tumbled to an untidy heap without a sound.

Suddenly, a blur of bright, orange light filled his gunsight. Pulling his head away from the autogun Gunnulf hissed in irritation, wondering which of his squad-mates had been stupid enough to walk into his line of fire. Beak dropping open in amazement, he saw the young pony he'd knocked down just a clawfull of seconds ago. It, no, she, was standing there on splayed, shaky legs, an expression of almost mindless rage on a face made demonic by the fierce orange light that burned at the tip of her horn. Blood, appearing black in that lurid glow, flowed freely down the side of her muzzle from the three gouges that tracked from just below her horn, across the side of her face and down her neck.

Bringing the autogun down from his shoulder, Gunnulf levelled it at the pony, the stubby, paw sized muzzle pointing squarely at her chest.

"Try that on somepony closer to your own size, you monster!" she spat, blood spraying in a fine mist where it flowed over her mouth and nostrils. The pony advanced towards him, stiff-legged with fury. 

Gunnulf's grin returned, wider than ever. "Works for me -- shooting your foals was getting boring anyhow." With one quick motion he flicked the feeder to its other magazine and pulled back hard on the trigger. 

The gryphon's autogun was a marvel of the modern age. A clever fusion of science and crystal thaumic systems, its superconducting magnetic barrel could take anything from the fat, bean-bag 'non-lethal' thumpers to claw sized hypersonic tungsten needles, able to punch a hole through a paw's width of armour ceramic. Couple that to a shock mount that distributed the recoil force over the whole of a gryphon's body and a fire control system that could dynamically alter the exit trajectory of each projectile... The result was a gun that could fire a ten round burst in less than a hundred milliseconds and put each bullet through the same hole, all while the wielder was running or flapping around the battlefield. That would rely on the first shot being accurate, of course, so what the gun actually did was to place those ten rounds in a nice, horizontal line centred on the aim point.

That being the case, Gunnulf had every right to expect that the pony would drop bonelessly to the ground, almost cut in half by his fire. The gryphon's eyes bulged as a sloped plain of orange light flickered into being, its pulses in time with the stuttering roar of his shots. Dirt flew up where the rounds were deflected into the ground. 

The figure grunted as if it had been punched, but didn't stop advancing. "You think I'm stupid?" the pony hissed in a tone that sent shivers racing down Gunnulf's spine. "Let's see how you like it!"

Gunnulf transferred the autogun's forward controller to his beak and back pedalled rapidly to get away from the enraged thing in front of him. The small part of his mind that wasn't panicking was wondering how he, a heavily armed soldier -- a predator for the Maker's sake -- was running from a pony. He got off another few bursts, all of which were deflected harmlessly, before an orange nimbus appeared around his gun's barrel, yanking the controller out of his beak with brutal force. Still attached by the recoil mount he could only close his eyes and turn away as the glow brightened suddenly. Flickers of white and the smell of burning insulation caused him to glance back at the gun; the orange glow was still there, but it was joined by blue electrical sparks as the barrel was systematically crushed and the superconductors shorted out. 

With a curse, Gunnulf slapped the quick release and jumped at the pony, talons extended to rip out her throat. They'd trained to fight force field protected enemies; what mattered was the total momentum of the impactor. Gunnulf didn't understand the maths but knew the results -- a portable field that could stop a small, high velocity bullet would fail when struck by a big, slow object. He passed through where the field had been, talons hungrily reaching for pony flesh, but not quite making it. An orange haze surrounded him, held him in a soft yet unyielding grip that was like wearing a form-fitting suit of steel lined with foam rubber. A sudden push, so hard his vision greyed out, sent him tumbling beak over tail feathers across the battlefield in a high ballistic arc.

With a shake of the head he cleared his vision, wings stroking rapidly to stop the tumble. Trading this free height for speed he dived, turning in a tight spiral to hit the pony from behind. For a few long seconds he had a wide view over the training centre, dark shapes were chasing down the remaining foals and herding them into a milling cluster inside one of the pits, then he was upon his target. The stupid creature had turned her back on him and he flashed in to hit her squarely between hindquarters and withers, a strike that would break her back and end this cleanly. 

Gunnulf had never actually dived on living prey before, if he had he would have paid more attention to the mare's wide spread eyes that let her see almost straight backwards. She saw him at the last instant, a subliminal flicker that spoke to her hindbrain and dropped her to the ground. These ancient reflexes from before her kind had been tampered with saved the pony's life; the blow that should have killed her instantly instead knocked her tumbling across the grass, cutting a fresh set of claw-marks across her back in the process.

Twisting his wings, Gunnulf dumped his forward velocity, turning sharply to land a few paces from the prone pony. She was lying on her left side, horn light dimmed and flickering erratically, legs kicking weakly and eyes rolled back in her head. The gryphon hurriedly leapt forward to finish her, his beak wide and reaching for her throat, but hesitated for a fraction of a second when he saw that eye roll forward and focus on him. Too late he saw the now horribly familiar orange haze and felt a sudden pressure on his head, just as if the quartermaster had given him a too tight helmet. The rest of his body was free to move though, and he dug his foreclaws and hindpaws into the dirt, beating his wings in a frantic effort to escape. Nothing worked; it was like his head was embedded in a block of invisible concrete. Trapped, was his last coherent thought, as panic rose up within him.

Helplessly, he watched the pony climb to her hooves, his eyes casting wildly about for his squad-mates. No help was forthcoming; the foals were leading the rest of the soldiers a merry dance. Many had been herded together and were held in a frightened huddle, cowed by the three gryphons standing over them. Unfortunately, the rest had scattered widely, all taking to the air to avoid their hunters. This had the effect of making the gryphons chase them down individually -- you couldn't use a thumper on an airborne pony and expect it to land safely. In a straight flight the gryphons were faster, but the ponies were more manoeuvrable; the result was an aerial game of tag that looked to last for at least another few tenth kiloseconds. The glow around Gunnulf's head flared and the gryphon was slammed down to the ground, lifted up and slammed down again.

By the fourth impact he'd given up trying to scream, the telekinetic beating had driven all the air from his lungs. His armour stopped the impacts from breaking bones, but did nothing to block the pain. Gunnulf was just starting to slide into blissful oblivion when it stopped and he was flipped upside down and lifted high into the air. In sudden realisation knew what was going to happen next; the extra height would translate into extra speed and he'd be driven head first into the ground like a talon into a rotten log. No way his armour would protect him from that. Wide eyed with terror he stared down at the pony in desperation and horror. Please don't, he pleaded, but the words died still-born when he saw the rage and complete lack of intelligence in her eyes. 

"Yes, Master." 

In Gunnulf's desperate state the hoarse voice was barely audible, the distant tones sounding like they were from the bottom of a well, but the instant he heard it the orange glow faded and he was rotated right side up and dumped on the ground in a heap of feathers and fur. Someone was babbling from his command collar, but his earbud had become dislodged and his ears were still ringing and he couldn't make it out. Shaking his head to clear his vision, Gunnulf struggled to his paws and staggered towards the pony. She was just standing there, staring at him with fury in her eyes, but her horn remained dark as he approached.

Tentatively he stepped forward, reaching out to nudge the pony with point of one talon. She flinched, but didn't even turn her head to look at him. Gunnulf started to laugh as he realised what must have happened, then savagely lashed out with his foreleg to sweep her hooves out from under her. The pony landed heavily and Gunnulf reared up and brought his foreclaws down on her chest with as much force as he could manage. Something gave with a sickening crack under his weight, the pony giving a strangled gasp as her breath wheezed out. Savouring the moment he stared down at her for a second, blood welling up where his talons dug into the big muscles on either side of her right wing root 

Gunnulf reached down to grip the pony's wing elbow in his beak, blood coating his tongue where its razor edges cut through the thin, feathered skin. He pulled back and twisted, a greasy click, more felt than heard, marking the dislocation of the pony's wing joint. Under his body she twitched then bucked, a breathless whinnying scream muffled by the dirt in her muzzle. The gryphon released the mare's wing, bending down to strop his beak and leaving bloody streaks on her fur in an action unchanged from his raptor ancestors. 

"Flysoldat Athils Gunnulf, stand down!" That bellow of a voice was from of his sersjant and at any other time he would have obeyed without question. This time, however, the violence, hunger and the proximity of helpless prey had flicked some set of ancient switches in the gryphon's head and he ignored it like you would a fly. He took a fresh grip on her wing, just below the shoulder this time, tensing his neck and forelegs in preparation for the convulsive heave that would pull the limb fully off.

Blue-white lightning flashed from under his command collar, accompanied by a harsh buzzing crackle and the smell of burning feathers. Nervous system well and truly jammed, Gunnulf went into a seizure, muscles spasming and beak opening by reflex. He tumbled off the pony, twitching and jerking but unable to scream as the pain went on and on until he finally blacked out. 

> 07 - Unintended consequences
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist

Germ line modifications and activation of the female's breeding cycle were completed within seconds; over the next day, nine out of ten of the females were pregnant with the new species. The Pattern had made its modifications on the creatures from one geographic area; almost two hundred thousand would be born within a few days of each other. The preparations were almost complete; now it needed some way to give its new creations access to the abilities it took for granted.

=== Chapter 7 (remastered): Unintended consequences ===


Fusion whirled in shock as the objects landed -- crashed would be a better word -- around the little group of ponies. She stared at the closest; made of a dark matte material and covered with random patches of a slightly lighter grey, the thing was difficult to see in the uncertain light. A four armed biped with asymmetric limbs and a deformed conical head, it stood on wide foot pads and looked like a bear crossed with a monstrous, mutated insect. The upper limbs were long, bulging with armour and covered with blunt spikes, ending in three thick fingers with heavy claws. The upper right hand held a fat cylinder with a shiny, curved end, while the other was covered with crystals that glowed with a dim white light. The lower set of arms emerged from just above the hips; the left a mere mount for a cylindrical cluster of tubes that spun at high speed about their common centre, the right a simple crabs-claw with inner surfaces polished to a razor's edge. Her eyes widened, seeing the Sigil of Command -- that universal symbol of the Master's authority over ponykind -- on the machine's chest plate: it was Lacunae Hive military! She stared at it for a second longer, taking in the heavy actuators at each joint and the thaumic shield emitters at shoulder and hip. Then the robot shifted, right hand moving the heavy looking cylinder in her direction. For an instant she saw herself, upside down and far away, in the laser's primary mirror. 

That sudden vision of something so ordinary in this bizarre situation shocked her in to motion. Fusion's reflexes took over and she joined the other two ponies in prostrating herself in front of the armoured figure. That hesitation should have hurt, the mare thought, confused. Too afraid to move her head lest she attract the wrong sort of attention, her eyes swivelled this way and that to try and understand what was going on. There were at least six of the things, two crouched nearby and four others forming an expanding perimeter around the top of the berm. Some silent signal passed between the two armoured machines and the closest moved abruptly; the spinning cylinder stilled and the arm holding it retracted to fold the multi-barrelled gun along the backpack. It clipped the laser to attachment points on the other side, then stepped close enough that Fusion could feel the static thrill of its active shield pass like a wave over her body, even though the field itself was completely invisible to the naked eye. The other machine took aim at Animal Scanner.

The thing reached out with one paw and made an awkward-looking gesture. White fire bloomed around the clawed, crystal studded fingers, then another gesture and a similar glow burst from the attachment points on the stallion's equipment harness. A sudden clenching of the paw and jerking motion had the harness roughly ripped from Animal Scanner's chest, the pony grunting in sudden pain as the straps dug into his flesh before separating.

Fusion felt the horror rise as the second machine pointed its laser at Gravity's head while the first reached for the blue mare with that same burning, clawed glove. Like her friend Packet, Fusion's special talent was related to energy manipulation; as with all such ponies this made her sensitive to the flow and concentration of the stuff, assuming there was enough of it. This was something she could do almost without thinking about it, an ability that operated at such a low level that it didn't even make her horn glow. When she really looked at the machine, she could see it was alive with power; a glittering, glowing web-work of pale colours encasing an strange core of absolute darkness. The robot's magic shield presented only a mild hindrance to her hurried examination; it was a crude thing, a polygonal cage of influence designed only to deflect thaumokinetic strikes. Like the safety shield that had surrounded her while at the bottom of the pit or in the beam dump chamber, it didn't significantly interact with normal matter -- you could trot right through it and not feel anything more than your fur standing on end. It did little more than slightly blur Fusion's shadow sight.

Bands of electromuscle appeared to glow a pale green under the armour ceramic, while the kinetic manipulator crystals in the extended hand pulsed a deep red in time with the heatless white fire that burned on its surface. Fusion ignored all of this, focusing instead on the web of almost invisibly fine violet lines that appeared to invade every part of the machine. The mare knew next to nothing about weapons, but this was a machine and she knew machines. That web was the important part, the superconducting power distribution network, without which the robot would be an immobile lump of ceramic and polymers. The cables all converged into one complex coil at the centre of the thing's back, and it was here that the mare found what she'd been frantically looking for; a tiny point of somehow familiar warmth surrounded by loops of magnetic force.

Now she knew where to look, Fusion found a similar point in the other machine. She prepared herself, plotting a route through the shields and focussing her will on the dots of deuterium plasma. One quick nudge and she could trash the hoof-sized reactors, freezing both machines into immobility without doing too much damage to them. An instant before she acted, she saw the white fire change to a flicker of green light and saw the power lines leading to the manipulator crystals fade to black. A scan, she thought, only a scan.

That green flicker turned upon her next, but Fusion's attention was held by the sight of her own reflection in the other suit's laser mirror. This brief pause allowed the rational part of her mind to catch up with her instincts and she started to tremble, burying her muzzle in the grass in an attempt to slow her hyperventilation. Maker, what did I almost do... and why didn't you punish me for it? She sent the thoughts to the deity, mind whirling with confusion. That first instant of thought to interfere with this machine should have had her warned with a flash of pain; actually carrying on and planning an attack like she did should have had her writhing in agony... yet there was nothing. How could I even think of doing that to something with the Sigil? Then the mare froze, breath halting and eyes widening as another thought struck her. That dark void at the core of each machine is the same shape as one of the People... those aren't robots, they're armour suits! I nearly attacked... Fusion felt sick, but there was still no pain; the Maker didn't see fit to punish her for this transgression.

The Master, apparently satisfied, stepped back from the ponies and retrieved the laser from its clips on the suit's back. Nothing happened for a long time and Fusion wondered what they were waiting for, but as she'd not been given permission to rise she kept her muzzle pressed firmly to the ground. Her ears flicked up at the sudden sounds of panic from the other side of the training centre complex, then there was a bang followed by a high-pitched scream of a filly in pain. Next to her Gravity twitched, but it was Animal that spoke.

"Master?" he said tentatively, cringing as the suit turned in his direction. "I am trained as a multispecies medic, may I be permitted to assist?"

The suit returned its attention to the flashes of light and noise, head moving slightly in a way that suggested it was talking to someone. "No," it said eventually.

Animal opened and closed his mouth several times, then slumped slightly and slowly closed his eyes. "Yes, Master."

Fusion climbed slowly to her hooves, ignoring shocked glances from Gravity and Animal, and stared out across the training complex. Off in the distance, she saw the chaotic panicked rush of foals being chased by a dozen dark shapes that looked a little like ponies but weren't. Gryphons she realised, why were gryphons hunting down her corral's foals? Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the largest pony -- Random Walk, she assumed -- get knocked down by one of the half avian soldiers. There were several rapid bursts of gunfire and another flurry of motion, not quite visible at this distance. When it was over, the figure she was sure was Random lay horribly still on the ground. The white mare tensed and stared out with her shadow sight, hunting for a sign, any sign, that Random still lived. 

The form was heartbreakingly dark, but there was a glimmer, a faint sparkle from where horn met skull. Still alive for now, but unconscious and very weak. She could see the mare's comms disk, a pinpoint of white that flickered and twinkled as it talked to... what? The relay nodes in the training centre were all dead -- the building should have glowed like a banked fire from all the magical systems it contained, but instead it was nothing more than a black shadow. Glancing sideways she noticed that, unlike Random, her own disk was inert. Not indestructible after all then, she thought, feeling a sudden pang of loss. She'd received the thing shortly after being Blessed and it had been her constant companion ever since. The disks were built to withstand everything a young, magically clumsy pony could do to them; compared to that, the sensitive, complex machines in the centre hadn't stood a chance.

Fusion let her gaze travel across the two ponies close to her; their disks also showed no sign of life; obviously whatever she'd done had weakened enough by the time it reached Random to spare hers. She must have been ordered to stop fighting back and the gryphon had obviously taken advantage of that... If only the Master had ordered her to cooperate, the mare thought, she could have stopped all of this. This lead to some unwelcome revelations; with no Masters down there and no adults, the foals would be completely without guidance. Foals that were old enough to have significant magical strength but not the control to use it safely. Foals that were the reason the training centres were built like bomb testing facilities. Foals that thought they were going to die.

She turned to see that the armour suited Master was watching her -- which in itself was odd, as most of the time ponies were ignored, unless they were being instructed -- even stranger was the way it was standing. Tense, coiled, as if the occupant was... scared? Fusion glanced back out over the training centre field, still using her shadow sight, seeing the sudden flare of multiple powerful spells from the herd of foals. Maybe the Master had good reason; scattered and running the foals would be unlikely to have the mental discipline to perform complex magic, but confine them to a herd with their friends and half kill their teacher in front of them...   

"Master, I--" Fusion flinched when the suit suddenly took a step back and brought up a glove wreathed in white fire, pointing one clawed digit at her face. She swallowed, watching uncertainly as the Master deactivated the weapon or whatever it was and lowered its arm. Steeling herself she continued. "Many apologies, Master, but I think you might be in danger." 

"Explain yourself, pony," the Master said, voice only slightly distorted by the suit's speakers.

"I have just sensed at least three major spells. I don't know for sure what the foals think is happening, but it's apparent they don't know this is a force from Lacunae Hive."

The Master made an impatient motion. "This is obvious. Make your point, servitor."

"They probably haven't ever seen a gryphon before, only heard about them in the context of competitor Hive militaries," Fusion said softly, fighting to keep her voice from trembling. "They do not have any way to get new orders -- one of the soldiers has k--k--" The mare stuttered, then took a deep breath. "...knocked out their teacher and none of them have comms disks. The only alternatives are for a pony they know to talk to them or for one of the People to order them directly."

"None of this is relevant. There is a thaumic suppression vehicle on route."

Fusion's ears flattened at this. She'd never heard of such a thing, but it was obvious what it would do. It was also interesting that it wasn't here yet; perhaps these machines were slow or few in number? "Master, if the foals continue to panic you might find yourself a target of their magic. Forgive me, but if a foal doesn't recognise you as a Master... your suit's thaumic defences will not help against a ten-fold increase in the local gravitational field or a badly placed force bubble." ...and if any of the foals are flying when this vehicle arrives, they will fall out of the sky, Fusion completed the sentence in her head. 

Again the subtle head movements; Fusion hoped this meant the Master was talking to his commander, a good sign that she'd sowed enough doubt in the trooper's mind to at least get him to dodge the decision. She'd never thought about it before, but the Maker's punishment only ever came when she knew she'd done something wrong; sometimes this would only be after she'd actually done the act. The Masters must know the strange way their God behaved, thus understand that there was a real risk that a foal might lash out only to discover too late the error in its judgement. The mare shelved the thought for later inspection, then sent a silent, wordless prayer to the Maker; she didn't think they would decide to use their aircraft's weapons to destroy the training centre from altitude -- ponies were far too valuable for such pointless slaughter -- but what would she do if they did?

Again, Fusion's instincts ran ahead of her rational mind and she looked up into the black sky. It was silent and hard to see, but it was there, and if she concentrated she could make out the pent up energy stored in superconducting coils running along the spine of the aircraft. All that power, ready to be converted into violence in an instant through rail guns, lasers and thaumokinetic projectors. Triggering a quench at that distance wouldn't be easy, but the mare was sure she could do it, she could make some small part of that coil resist the giga-amps of current that flowed ceaselessly within it. All that energy, enough to run a corral for a megasecond released in an instant of blinding light. 

...and are you willing to fight your own sister too, filly? Fusion shivered again, pushing those treacherous thoughts away.  Gravity and Animal wouldn't hesitate to defend the Masters with all their strength. Is this what madness feels like?

===

Shock Diamond gasped as the gryphon dropped Random's wing, leaving it to lie at an unnatural angle against her neck, then bent down and did something with its beak to leave great swathes of black across her flank. His frozen mind suddenly restarted and he turned to his captor with wide eyes, ears folded flat against the sides of his head.

"Y--you're going to eat us!" he said with a hoarse whisper.

"What! No, that's not tru--" Alfgeir's reply was interrupted by a pure, high-pitched tone, like the breaking of some perfect crystal. He stared in shock at the restraint leash, now dangling free, the ends of the woven metal fibres shining with a mirror finish. He backed away, scrabbling for his autogun's controller, as the floor gave an alarming creak. The little colt stood at the centre of a perfect hemisphere of pale blue radiance, eyes wild and horn glowing like an arc welder. The gryphon swallowed heavily as those eyes turned on him, then pulled the autogun forward and held down the trigger. 

The gun chewed through a dozen rounds, with each shot the pony staggered, eventually driven to his knees by the extra effort required to keep the force field up. Not one of the shots penetrated, however, the nonlethals all bouncing harmlessly off the field's glassy surface. Seeing that this wasn't going to work, Alfgeir stopped shooting and charged forward to try and push past the field with his greater momentum. 

Shock Diamond timed it perfectly. The instant the gryphon jumped, he leaped away, dropping the force field as he did so. The gryphon squawked in surprise as the circle of floor he landed on flipped up like a giant coin, dumping himself and fragments of several desks down to the level below. When he finally climbed up through the sharp edged hole to the upper floor, he saw that the pony had jumped onto one of the desks lined up against the windows. There was the bell-like sound again and another blue sphere appeared, intersecting with the window in a wide circle, then flicking out an instant later. Alfgeir advanced cautiously, beak on the autogun's bite trigger, when the colt lashed out with his hind legs and bucked a perfect circle of glass out of the window. That sudden movement disturbed the fragile balance holding the desk together, and it collapsed into a collection of sharp-edged fragments to leave the foal standing on a circle of plastic.

The gryphon suddenly realised what the pony intended. Retracting the weapon with a flick of his head he bounded forward. "Don't! Your wings--"

The colt jumped backwards out of the window, vanishing without a sound. 

"...are still bound," Alfgeir finished. Not hearing an impact, he loped forward and poked his head out of the new hole in the window. "You've got to be kidding me!" he snarled, watching another, much larger, blue force bubble deposit the colt on the ground; the pony didn't even stumble as it killed the field and galloped off into the pits surrounding the training centre. Foreclaws suddenly trembling with delayed shock, the gryphon sank to his haunches, letting his gaze travel over to where the other members of his squad had been guarding the captured foals.

Something hard and cold settled in Alfgeir's stomach. "How are we supposed to fight this?" he whispered, reaching up with a shaky claw for his command collar to report to his sersjant. The pit used as an improvised holding pen was empty of ponies, but the gryphon guards were still there. The first was lying on the ground, moving weakly but somehow unable to rise. The second appeared to be struggling with a tangle of barbed tentacles, fighting to stay upright as another loop emerged from his ammunition panniers and coiled around his hind legs. The third was running off in a random direction, firing wildly over his shoulder at something only he could see, his screams fading as he crested the berm and disappeared into the darkness. As Alfgeir watched, another gryphon swooped in to investigate, then abruptly fell out of the sky with unnatural speed -- almost as if he was sucked down -- as he passed near the prone soldier. Unlike the first, he didn't move again.

On the second try he found the right key combination and opened the comms link. "Flysoldat Adigard Alfgeir requesting orders." 

"Where are you -- are you secure?" 

The voice of sersjant Kafli was clipped and rushed, but at least he sounded normal. Alfgeir felt his panic recede a little. "I'm secure, top floor of the training centre. I... I had one of the foals but he escaped." The humiliation caused him to cringe reflexively, but what could he have done? None of his instructors had ever mentioned ponies except in passing; they were forbidden in the active military on pain of draconian World Court penalties, only ever allowed to operate in support roles. There was no training plan to handle this event; it was unthinkable. 

There was a second of dead air before the reply came. "Based on what I've seen you were lucky it did. Can you make it to the rally point?"

"Yes, sersjant. What... what about the wounded?"

"Leave them."

"But..."

"There's nothing you can do for them," the sersjant hissed, pain and anger filling his voice. "There's a thaumic suppression vehicle inbound -- don't be in the air when it arrives," he continued in a more normal tone. 

Alfgeir found himself nodding vigorously. "Understood, on route." Gryphons were not overt magic users like ponies, but nothing their size could fly without it. He picked up the remains of the desk the colt had stood on, smashing it through the rest of the window. He took one more look at his fallen squad mates, then jumped out and flew off into the darkness. 

===

In the pool of light cast by Fusion's horn, the three adult ponies galloped towards the training centre building, followed at a distance by all six of the power armoured Masters. Despite the size of the things they had all faded from view in the gloom, with their antimagic fields off they were little more than vague blurs of light even by shadow sight, only really visible when they moved. For a short while, the mare could follow their progress by the glimmer of their little reactors, but the moment she took her sight off them, they vanished. Fusion would have dearly loved to fly over the area, but they'd all been given strict instructions to stay on the ground. They'd also been given replacement communicators, heavy cylinders with an armoured look that hung from woven metal straps around the ponies' necks. Fusion's banged uncomfortably against her chest as she ran; the thing couldn't even talk telepathically, but it apparently did have the advantage of being practically immune to electronic or thaumic interference. 

Ahead was a sad looking bundle of feathers and fur. It was the small body of a filly laying on the grass, her long dark mane tangled around short chestnut wings. Fusion searched for the memory of the foal; Single Crystal, daughter of Spiral Fracture and Trocar Point; she always had been a quiet one, but eager to please and friendly. Already a disk of red light was sweeping quickly along the body, first in one fast pass from muzzle to tail, then returning to her chest and oscillating between throat and shoulders. Fusion's vision blurred and she stumbled, tears running down her muzzle as she looked on helplessly. This was Random's sister, which meant both of Spiral's daughters were injured, perhaps fatally so. 

"She's not breathing. Blunt impact to the throat," Animal said in a clipped, mechanical tone. "I will set up a triage area here; I'll need you to bring me any wounded," he announced to the two mares and the listening Masters. The scan switched to a fine grid, joined by a solid band of crimson around the filly's chest. "No heartbeat." More red lights appeared against the chestnut coat: head, neck, hips and withers, followed by a pure white one that hovered above and to the left of the veterinarian's head and casting harsh shadows across the still form. Gentle pressure straightened the tangled body, while the band of force started to contract rhythmically. Odd little popping and clicking noises came from Single's neck. The dark brown fur abruptly parted, then flew away from skin of the throat in a carefully controlled plume of fibres, creating an expanding circle of bare skin. The filly's smooth black hide was marred by an irregular patch of unhealthy-looking mottled flesh, collapsed inwards where there should have been gentle swellings. 

"You should check on the others," Animal snapped at the two mares, startling them out of their shocked state. "I can't leave... what's her name?"

"Single Crystal," Gravity mumbled in a rough voice, shaking her head and turning to trot off to the next casualty.

Animal nodded distractedly. "Yes, Single." 

With a noise like the ringing of a tiny glass bell, a small triangle of red light appeared by the unconscious filly's neck. It rotated in place for a second, almost disappearing completely when it turned edge on. Fusion's eyes widened as the glowing sliver entered Single's throat, flesh parting and blood flowing out in a steady stream. A hint of white cartilage and... the white mare squeezed her eyes shut, wheeled and stumbled away from the impromptu surgery.

Away from the frantic movements of the veterinarian, Fusion's mind cleared enough for her to think clearly, and suddenly she could hear it. A quiet sobbing, almost inaudible over her hoof beats. Ahead she could see the shadowed form of Gravity kneeling next to another fallen pony, an almost ultraviolet nimbus surrounding her horn. Another filly, this one a delicate, pale orange with contrasting blue mane, was lying on her side. Her eyes were rolled back in her head, breath coming in short gasps, each movement producing a sob as it jostled her twisted hindquarters.

Something had struck her high on the left hip, hard enough to break the bone, leaving the leg bent in a place where it should have been straight. Gravity looked up as Fusion approached, frowning in concentration as she inspected the injured filly. "She'll live, it's just her leg," she said with a whisper. "I'll take her to Animal; you go and help Random."

Fusion nodded and headed off to the remaining two figures. The first was a creature that the mare had only ever seen at a distance; pony-like dark brown wings sprouted from just behind its shoulders, the white feathers of its head and neck changing to brown and blending into fur past the wing roots. She spared the gryphon a single glance -- it was still breathing but appeared to be unconscious -- then moved on to Random.  

"Sweet Maker," she whispered, kneeling down next to her friend. "What have they done to you?"

The tan-coated pony lay on her left side, right wing splayed and loose against her flank. Blood trickled sluggishly through the fur, flowing down her belly from wide spaced punctures to stain the grass carmine. High up on Random's back were four long, deep scratches, cutting diagonally from right hind leg to left wither. Fusion felt her gorge rise; the smooth lines of the mare's back muscles were interrupted by an ugly lump where the wing's humerus met the middle shoulder joint. The bone itself was displaced rearwards from its proper location, undamaged but obviously dislocated. More blood matted the secondary feathers from parallel cuts on the upper wing, but these were so minor compared to the other injuries that Fusion barely noticed them.

Fusion focused her sight through the tan fur, horn glowing white as the magic took hold. This wasn't something she had any great skill with -- in her mind Random's side remained stubbornly solid, only slowly becoming translucent to reveal the faint, fuzzy outline of the pony's bones. This was nothing like the high resolution, full colour images of her own skull she had been shown by Animal Scanner, but here the injury was simple, something even an amateur like Fusion Pulse could help with. "I'm sorry, Random," she said to the unconscious pony. "I'm going to have to hurt you some more."

She checked again, seeing the dislocated joint and the broken ribs on either side. She'd attended basic first aid courses and had even done this once before -- on a training mannequin. Taking a deep breath, she wrapped the other mare in a blanket of magical force, holding the torso still while gripping the wing from elbow to shoulder. One fast shove and... Click. 

Random Walk jerked in her grip, eyes flying open and breath coming in a sudden gasp. Orange fire bloomed over her horn and Fusion hurriedly leant forward to nuzzle her friend's neck, using her own magic to keep Random from moving, as well as deflecting as many of the panicked telekinetic punches as she could. 

"It's okay, you're safe," she whispered into the tan ear, spiky black mane making her nose twitch. The other mare's expression of terror faded, her magic dying away with it.

"F... Fusion?" she said. "I thought..." Her eyes strayed to the unconscious gryphon a few lengths in front of her muzzle and she gave a breathless whinny of terror, trying once again to break free of Fusion's grip. 

"Shhh, he can't hurt you," Fusion shifted around to lay between Random and her attacker. "He's been knocked out."

Random clenched her eyes shut, taking one deep breath and letting it out slowly. "I don't understand any of this," she said miserably. "One second I was showing Base Pair how to..." the mare stopped with a gasp, eyes flying open and struggling to rise against Fusion's magic. "The foals!"

"...are fine," Fusion said firmly. "They've hidden themselves around the training centre to avoid the gryphons. Listen, this is important. You are not to blame for this." She said the last sentence slowly, staring into her friend's face and willing her to understand. 

Random just looked confused. "Of course not, I was only defending my students." Her expression changed to one of worry. "Why would you say that?"

"The gryphons failed to identify themselves to you. They were Lacunae Hive's own."

"Then... then I attacked..." A look of horror crossed Random's face, swiftly followed by an expression of pain that twisted her muzzle into a death's head rictus. The tan mare's muscles all locked rigid, tremors running up and down her legs.

Fusion cursed, realising her mistake the instant her friend's expression changed. Leaning forward once more, she spoke loudly into the other mare's flattened ear. "The Masters do not blame you, it was the gryphon squad commander's fault." She winced inside at the partial lie, bracing for the pain that should have roared through her own body, but like before there was nothing apart from a vague feeling of guilt.

The effect on Random, though, was instantaneous. Muscles lost their sharply defined edges and her face relaxed from the clenched-jaw grimace. "Thank you," she said, breath hissing out. 

"Random, I've got to go and look for the foals. If I lift you up, do you think you can get back to the vet?"

Random closed her eyes again. "Yes," she said quietly. "Broken ribs?"

"Yes," Fusion replied, her ears drooping. "Sorry." The glow around Random's torso brightened and she drifted up into the air, rotating until her legs were vertical, then sank gently to the ground. The mare's breath came in short gasps, sweat beading on her flanks as her hooves took her weight. 

"I'm okay," Random said shakily, taking a careful step in the direction of Animal. "Who was hurt?"

"Phased Array has a broken rear right leg." Fusion bit her lip; better she should hear it now rather than suffer the slow dawning horror of realising who the veterinarian was working on. "Unfortunately your sister was also hurt quite badly; she's with the vet now."

Random froze, head drooping. "I... I see," she said hollowly, then broke into a slow, limping trot, wings curled protectively around her chest.

Fusion put any thoughts of her friend out of her mind -- Random would live, that's what mattered right now -- and cast around with her shadow sight for any sign of the foals. The older a pony got the easier it was to resist the herding instinct, but these were no more than twelve years old. If she could find one she'd have found them all. Cantering forward, she climbed to the top of the nearest berm, trotting around its rim to inspect as much of the training centre as possible.

There were things that didn't belong in that scene; a few adult pony sized lumps with only wing edges that glowed -- no horn glow meant those could only be other gryphons, almost certainly the targets of the spells she'd sensed earlier. There was something else, though, something strange, a faint patch of light, as if some small part of the debris ring had been transplanted into the vague and darkened landscape as seen through her shadow sight. Fusion opened her real eyes, the moonlit landscape springing into sharp relief. There... something just outside the double ring of berms. A rise in the ground where she couldn't remember there ever being one -- the mare had used the centre almost every day for a decade, and that hillock was definitely new. Without that degree of familiarity though... the illusion was really very good. 

"I have found them, Master," Fusion whispered at the communicator. "They are hidden under an illusion behind berm twelve." The mare tasted an unfamiliar emotion as she said those words; guilt. She paused, thinking about that. I'm obeying a direct order, so why am I feeling guilty? 

"The pony will hold position until ordered," came the tinny reply.

"Understood," Fusion said, ears swivelling as she hunted for the sounds of something heavier than a pony sprinting over the grass. She found four somethings, then, knowing the general locations she switched back to shadow sight to hunt for the faint pinpoints of their backpack reactors. I must be getting better at this, Fusion thought, following the faint glows. The suits raced out to encircle the fake hill at maybe fifty bodylengths distance.

"The pony will approach the foals. Any attempt they make to escape or employ offensive magic will be met with force."

"Yes, Master," the mare said, trying to prevent dismay from creeping into her voice.

Fusion galloped towards the illusion, cutting through the pits and again cursing her orders not to fly. She crested the last berm, sliding down the steep outside slope to trot towards the new hill. Now within a dozen paces of the illusion's perimeter she could see the join, a discontinuity in the close cut grass. Here's hoping they are all together, she thought, horn glowing as she unpicked the spell.

The hill vanished and for a moment Fusion saw a tight huddle of foals, all shades of grey in the moonlight. There were several shrill screams then, with a ringing of crystal bells, a half dozen pastel hemispheres snapped into position over the herd. Fusion's weight abruptly trebled, driving the mare to her knees with a shocked whinny, while her legs and wings disappeared under a blue and green telekinetic haze. Around her neck, the replacement communicator twitched and grew sharp points that dug into her skin as the metal strap contracted. 

"Stop! It's a pony! St... yeeeeeeeeee!" 

She didn't recognise the panicked shout or understand why it changed into a high-pitched scream of pure agony, until the furnace heat washed over her own skin. In the brief moment before something had set her on fire, she'd managed to make some headway with the reversed lifter spell, enough that it wouldn't break her legs, but the burning pain broke her concentration before she could free herself completely. Eyes wide, Fusion stared down amazement; she could feel the flames lick up her forelegs, but there was no yellow fire, no smell of scorched fur or flesh. Around her hooves, the fillies and colts writhed and twitched, crying out in uncomprehending pain. Unable to hold it back any longer, Fusion added her own screams to those of the foals.

None of this had much effect on their improvised attack spells or force bubbles; they would fade in time, but that could take tens of seconds without a pony actively trying to disrupt them. The pain roared on and her vision started to fade to grey as the communicator's strap tightened around her throat. Adrenaline surged through her body, the torment and high-pitched foal screams finally stepping into the background and allowing her to concentrate for the last few moments of consciousness. Eye useless, Fusion reverted to shadow sight, searching with the last vestiges of her strength for a weak point in the rainbow cocoon that entrapped her.

Something distorted the universe like a lead ball sitting on a rubber sheet. The glowing spiderweb tangle of magics stretched and bent, colour and intensity bleeding away in moments to leave the world an absolute black, absent even the glows of pony horns and wings. A moment later the fire was gone and the grip around her throat relaxed a fraction and, with breath, sound returned in a renewed chorus of screams and sobs. Fusion rolled onto her side and tried to pull the communicator off with fast, urgent motions of her forelegs and wings; her magic was somehow locked away and out of reach. Her hooves rattled off the metal, unable to get under the tightly constricted band and her vision faded out again as she tried to breath through a half closed throat. Panic started to set in and she thrashed and rubbed her neck against the grass in a desperate effort to get the thing off.

All of a sudden her horn was held in an unbreakable grip while a great weight pressed her shoulders into the grass. The band around her throat abruptly tightened and closed off all her air, then released with a sudden loud spang of stressed metal being sheared. Wheezing and coughing, Fusion sucked in great gulps of air, vision clearing in time to see one of the power armoured Masters kneeling next to her and holding what was left of her replacement communicator, the suit's claw arm pulling back from where it had cut the strap. Little clumps of bloody fur were still attached to that strap, where the metal had stretched into fibres and curled around the hairs. She stared at the distorted metal and shivered; the thing was actually beautiful, half way to becoming a piece of complex jewellery that was all spikes and sharp edges. A necklace with no actual space for a neck.

There was the sound of little hoof-beats, then a renewed chorus of screams that quickly faded to sobs and whimpers. At the same time a fierce heat washed over Fusion's muzzle, but it was a pale thing compared to moments ago.

"All ponies will remain here. Any attempt to escape will be punished." The voice roared out at enormous volume from the suit kneeling next to her, loud enough to make Fusion's ears ring. When it stopped there was absolute silence, save for the sounds of foals huddling closer together. 

The suit stood up, gesturing for Fusion to rise and the mare climbed slowly to her hooves, still breathing heavily. It then lowered the arm it had been pointing out at the herd, the flat plate of a microwave antenna retracting beneath the forearm armour.

It spoke again at a more normal volume, addressing Fusion directly. "Take the foals back to the training centre. The pony Fusion Pulse has half a kilosecond to get them moving." It patted the forearm and the now concealed microwave emitter. "Do not be late. Make them understand that disobedience will have consequences. The ponies will be watched." At an unheard signal, the four suits moved away from the herd, far enough that they were invisible to the unaugmented eye.   

"Yes, Master," Fusion said fervently to the retreating suit, relieved that the Masters were wise enough to let her organise the foals rather than force them into motion with that awful weapon. She wouldn't be able to forget that searing, blow-torch pain in a hurry; it had been strong enough to paralyse muscles and disrupt thought. 

The mare stepped carefully over to the foals, bending down to nuzzle the trembling bundles of feathers and fur. Quiet words of comfort and reassurance, the smell and touch of a familiar adult -- and the absence of pain inducing monsters -- soon had the foals on their hooves and shuffling around her legs in a subdued herd.

"We thought you were one of them, are you alright?" said a blue colt, flapping his wings but resolutely staying on the ground. Giving up on flight, he trotted over to stand in front of her. He wore the remains of an odd harness, obviously made for a creature twice his size, with tattered straps dangling from various points. Many of the other foals were also trying to fly and with just as little success. Some still lay on the floor nursing scraped ankles, chests and jaws. 

"I'm fine," Fusion said, flexing her bruised legs and working her jaw. The sensation was very strange; she felt like the world was nothing more than an image, like she was walking inside a glass bubble and completely cut-off from everypony around her. Even inside a safety field or when she'd been forbidden to use magic she'd been able to feel something. This was like being suffocated under a giant transparent blanket. "Go and help your friends -- they were flying just now?"

"Yes, we thought we'd been discovered; everypony not helping with the magic was going to scatter, try and get back home. Then those things... it hurt so much that the fliers fell out of the sky."

Fusion shook her head in amazement; these foals had planned it all, some would fly for help, the rest act as a rear guard. She did a swift count of the group pressing close around her, then started to walk back towards Gravity and Animal. She raised her voice to address the whole herd. "Don't worry about your magic, it will come back. It's safe now, we can go back home. Is this everypony? Did anypony go off on their own?"

The blue colt -- Shock Diamond, Fusion thought -- cantered to her side her before resuming the half trot required to keep pace with the older mare's stride. "This is all of us, everypony except Single and Phased." He sniffed, then continued in a small voice. "They shot them and... and... I saw one of them do terrible things to Random. We realised that they were going to eat us so... so... a few of us used our magic on them, then we all ran." The colt's words sped up, turning plaintive.  "I know it was bad, but we didn't know what else to do."  

"Phased will be fine and Random will heal, although both will be in the infirmary for a while. Single..." The lie she was about to utter closed Fusions throat. No. They should know the truth, even if it does them no good. "Single is badly hurt; she's with a vet now."

The colt sniffed again, wiping his eyes with the wrist of one wing. "Why? Why did this happen?"

Fusion stumbled to a halt. My fault. "It was an accident I think," she said softly. "I did something, don't really know what. The Masters thought it was an attack and sent in the military." She looked down at the colt and, seeing the look of misery on his face, extended one useless wing to stroke his back. Feeling the pressure of another two dozen pairs of eyes on her she raised her voice so everypony could hear. "Those machines were Masters from Lacunae Hive in armour." There was a murmur of distress at this, and Fusion pressed on before it could turn into anything like the pain Random had suffered. "All of this is down to decisions made by the military; none of you are to blame. It was an accident, a terrible mistake. The Masters may be perfect but their creations are not." I'm certainly not, she thought bitterly.

The rising howl of engines drowned out any questions the foals might have had. Flying low over the centre was a string of half a dozen boxy vehicles, completely black apart from the silver eye of Hive Security on their sides. Squat, slab-sided things, they flew by battering the air into submission, rather than gliding through it like a bird or insect. Fusion could see a ring of lifter crystals surrounding a turret on each underside, but they obviously weren't working at the moment. Instead, air was being inhaled through large grids near the nose and spat out through mobile nozzles on the sides, a faint blue plasma glow lighting the exhaust. 

One changed course to circle over the herd, descending low enough that the jets of hot air supporting it blew the ponies' manes and tails wildly about, as well as making them wrinkle their muzzles from the electric ozone smell. A brilliant cone of light stabbed down from its underside, bright enough that Fusion raised one wing to shield her eyes.

"These ponies will return to the training centre." The voice, unmistakably that of a Master, boomed out from the machine before it peeled off to rejoin the others, all settling in a ring next to the building.

Fusion looked around for the armoured Masters, then shrugged her wings when none of them reappeared to countermand the order. Without validation of orders through her now defunct communicator, the rules were simple: obey the one with the highest apparent authority. In this case ‘soldier with Sigil’ beat ‘anonymous voice from Hive Security aircraft.’ Fortunately, they both wanted her to go back to the central building... The white mare stared after the retreating vehicle then started to move once more, the faint hope of being able to send the foals home fading completely. The rest of the walk was silent, save for the gentle thud-thud of hooves on grass.
> 08 - Breaking the Skinner Box 
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist

It constructed a series of automata; space-time machinery that would respond to the desires of its newly conscious creations when in close proximity to minerals with the right crystal structure, then scattered these crystals throughout the local environment. These would allow its creations some measure of control over reality, but only in the most limited of situations; after all there must be room for growth, for mystery, otherwise there was no point to this experiment. A final step was a method to reverse what it was about to do; six unique crystals containing very particular arrangements of impurities and allowing access to... everything. These it was especially careful with, other automata would watch over them, protecting them from any sort of harm. Its own desire to let the experiment run its course would inhibit the use of these special crystals when they were eventually found by its creations. 

=== Chapter 8 (remastered) Breaking the Skinner Box ===


By the time Fusion and the foals crested the last berm, the flat area next to the training centre building was bustling with activity. The six flying vehicles had landed in a semi-circle, powerful lamps mounted on the insides of the open rear hatches illuminating the space between them with a harsh light. Externally identical, the interiors revealed their differing functions; a pair were obviously outfitted as transports, with rows of seats and padded stalls that were now empty. Those occupants, mostly Masters with a few ponies, were spread around the building in little clusters, setting up equipment or examining the site of the short-lived battle. The other vehicles were packed with equipment; two obviously technical with Masters watching integrated consoles, one medical and one half empty cargo vehicle. Off to one side there were a few gryphons, none in battle armour and all in bad shape, being tended to by a pair of the ponies -- although with their magic still suppressed there was precious little they could do.

A flicker of motion attracted Fusion's attention; walking slowly into the light came a sorry-looking string of ponies escorted by a pair of Masters with medic patches on their equipment vests. Gravity and Animal both pulled low wheeled carts -- Fusion could see the lifter crystals on their undersides, but these were obviously non-functional with the suppression field still active -- each with a foal strapped to it. Random limped by the side of Animal's cart, eyes never leaving the still shape it carried. Fusion cast them a worried glance, then bowed to the Master that walked up to her, the foals mimicking the motion a second or two later. 

The Master, a lanky female with brindled fur peeking out from the gaps in her tactical harness, gave her an impatient gesture to rise. She held her identification badge up in front of the mare's muzzle, close enough that Fusion had to cross her eyes to see it clearly. "By the authority of the Synod this pony is requisitioned to Hive Security." She waited until Fusion nodded, then continued brusquely while studying a display on her unusually bulky comms bracer. "The pony will identify itself."

"Fusion Pulse TC4668 out of corral twenty seven," the white mare replied softly, eyes following the movement of her sister as she approached the medical vehicle. 

The Master sniffed in disapproval. "Where is this pony's communicator?"

Fusion stiffened at the Master's tone, eyes snapping back to focus on her face. "Apologies, Master, it was destroyed in a magical accident."

"The pony will address this one as Agent Salrath." The Agent frowned as her gaze travelled over the herd of nervous foals -- all of whom were staring back with a mixture of awe and amazement on their faces -- clustered around Fusion's legs.

"Yes, Agent Salrath. What are your orders?" 

"This pony will control these foals. Stand near the ambulance and await further instructions. Remain within the lit perimeter."

With that the Agent turned and marched quickly away, leaving Fusion nodding her assent to empty air. She looked around, wondering where the power armoured Masters were, slightly at a loss for what to do. The mare dreaded what she'd find when she followed those orders, then steeled herself and shepherded her charges over to where her friends stood next to the medical vehicle.

With their magic still blocked there was nothing that Animal Scanner or the other two veterinarians could do to help; they stood watching a single Master working on Random Walk and Phased Array, their bodies held in attitudes of impatience and frustration. Fusion's eyes flicked from the expression of misery on Random's face to the pair of still forms in the back of the vehicle; one had a skinny tail ending in a tuft of black fur, the other hidden behind a tangled mass of dark brown hair. She caught her sister’s eye, then pointedly glanced back at the vehicle. The blue mare shook her head slightly, then ducked down to wipe her eyes against one foreleg. 

Fusion swallowed and looked away, hoping none of the foals would ask about Single Crystal. She focused instead on the other three shapes strapped to wheeled trolleys. All were gryphons with the common white and brown coloration and all had been given some level of crude in-field treatment. The first had all four legs bound in fast setting foam casts and was obviously on some significant medication; despite what must have been quite a lot of pain her eyes were filled with a kind of dopy bliss. Her sharp little bird tongue protruded slightly from a half open beak as she turned her head to watch Fusion. The second soldier was missing long strips of fur from his hind legs and hips, the naked skin covered in a myriad of small punctures now all sealed with coagulant spray, the marks stopping abruptly where his hide had been covered with armour. He wasn't on any drugs and glared at the mare when he caught her staring at him.

Fusion blinked and tried to suppress a small, malicious smile when she saw the state of the gryphon's equipment, now cut into plates and dumped at the end of the trolley. It was as if a mad jeweller had attacked the ammunition and electronics housed along the spine and flanks of the armour set; long strings of crystal thaumic rounds had been distorted into fantastically baroque gem studded snake-like belts covered with needle points, sharp edges and curls of metal like the tendrils of some climbing plant. There was a lot of fur and more than a few feathers wound up in those fibres. The mare's smile faded, suddenly thankful that all she'd been wearing was a simple communicator when one of the foals had used that spell on her. She'd have to find out who it was and speak to their teacher; that filly or colt had a real talent for matter manipulation. 

The third gryphon was strapped down and covered in long clusters of parallel scratches; he twitched and shivered against the restraints, eyes wide and frantically darting in all directions while his beak opened and closed as if he was trying to speak. No sound came out, however, and Fusion thought back to the spells she'd sensed before going after the foals. One had been a complex illusion spell, strange because the locus of effect had moved so erratically that she'd lost track of it.

That spell was actually cast on the gryphon, she thought. Looking again she saw the talons on the forelegs were broken and bloodied. What did you see that made you want to rip your own skin off?

The gentle, ever present feeling of suffocation suddenly vanished and Fusion felt like she was almost floating. A glance around with her shadow sight confirmed what she'd guessed; colour and light flowed back into the dark world, highlighting all the suddenly active crystal thaumic systems in a rush of twinkling lights. Dense reefs of lights filled the vehicles, while dark bipedal forms strode between them, looking like they were dusted with glowing powder. After an apparent eternity of being powerless, the sight was so beautiful that it momentarily took Fusion's breath away.

One of the glowing bipeds detached itself from the rest, pulled a case from the half empty cargo vehicle and walked towards Fusion and the herd of foals, followed by two of the unfamiliar adult ponies. Something moved inside that container, a constant, rolling flicker as if a snake made entirely of light turned restless cartwheels inside this portable prison. Something about that motion that made the mare uneasy, something that spoke of a desire to escape. The Master halted a short distance in front of the ponies, placing the case between its paws. Fusion reluctantly let the vision fade and opened her real eyes.

"The foals will form a circle one deep around this spot," the Master said, taking a deep breath and pointing at the case. 

Fusion could see the dazed confusion on the foal's faces change to shame and no small amount of fear. The mare understood this; only a few days ago she'd felt the same way, haunted by her weakness and inability to serve as her Master had wanted. All these foals would be in the same position; even though she'd told them they weren't at fault there would still be that worm of doubt eating away inside them, that little voice that whispered you made the wrong choice, if you were better this wouldn't have happened. You failed. 

None of the foals had ever had any direct interaction with the Masters and there was some uncertain shuffling from the herd; it took a few nudges and words of encouragement from the adults to get them moving in the right direction. Now spread out into an uneven ring and separated from their class mates, the foal's distress deepened, with more than a few trying to hide from the Master's gaze without actually moving from where they stood. Several had started to cry, their quiet sniffles barely audible above the activity around the rest of the vehicles. 

Fusion found herself standing behind Shock Diamond and Phased Array. The blue colt was ready to support Phased; even though the filly's leg had only just been set and was braced with a lumpy shell of rigid polymer foam, she'd refused to accept any assistance. She'd been determined not to show any further weakness in front of the Masters and now stood there swaying and sweating heavily from the pain of movement.

The Master knelt down and unsnapped the fastenings on the case. "T...these foals have shown g... great courage this night and are n... not to blame for this... um... accident," he said in a thin, nervous sounding voice. 

Fusion's ears pricked forward at the Master's tone and she studied him carefully as he talked. His paws are shaking, she thought in amazement, he's actually scared of the foals. It was one thing for a foal to panic when faced by a gryphon or some insectile power suit, but they'd all been brought up knowing the Masters were to be respected and obeyed, didn't he know that? She glanced across at the aircraft, seeing for the first time the dorsal turrets and the paired multi-barrelled weapons that were aimed at the herd. 

Fusion inhaled sharply as the next thought struck her. None of the foals are Blessed... is it that they actually don't trust us without the Blessing? The mare's eyes widened as the memory of her own Blessing welled up once more. It's supposed to be just a ceremony, something to bring us closer to the Maker, but what if it isn't? How much of my attitude towards the Masters is due to that spell? What does it actually do? She pushed the troubling thoughts away, concentrating on the Master once more.

A sigh of relief ran around the circle of foals as the meaning of the words penetrated, a reaction echoed a few seconds later by the attitude of the Master, who also visibly relaxed. Flexing his fingers the Master opened the case and brought out a circle of dark metal. The shape of the thing tickled Fusion's memory; a wide band a few hooves across and just the right size to fit on a pony's head. Little crystals glowed dimly on the inside surface. She had seen that thing before, but that time it had been made of a golden metal and had been set with a large amethyst. With a sinking feeling, Fusion realised exactly what it was. 

"The bravery and skill of these foals is such that they will be honoured with an immediate Blessing." The Master held the crown up in both paws, claw tips pale against black metal, and stepped forward to stand in front of one of the foals. Little lights raced around its inner surface, casting faint pastel glimmers on the colt's head. 

One of the ponies attached to the Hive Security contingent, a bulky grey stallion, had been working his way around the circle towards Fusion. The mare watched his approach, unable to take her eyes off the Master's eye sigil fixed to the stallion's black utility vest, right where his labour tattoo would be. He nodded to her in greeting then leaned forward to whisper urgently in her ear.

"It's vital the foals don't panic and run."

"What do you mean?" Fusion muttered out of the corner of her mouth, keeping an eye on the closest foal's ear direction. 

"A field Blessing is stressful at the best of times and this is the biggest I've ever heard of. If any of the foals were to run the rest might follow. I've never seen my Masters so tense before..." he tailed off, eyes not on Fusion but the aircraft and their waiting guns.

That really brought it home for Fusion; she'd half considered this possibility, but it had never seemed real. To hear her own thoughts echoed back from a pony that’d served these particular Masters, a pony who would be an expert in their body language by dint of long observation and a desire to anticipate their orders... Something akin to panic threatened to overwhelm her.

"W... what should I do?" Fusion said hoarsely.

"Try to keep them calm, talk to them."

"...and if that doesn't work?"

The stallion stared at her, a serious expression on his face. "Use your magic. Hold them down." 

Fusion's ears flattened. "I understand," she said softly, "It's for the best, I suppose."

The stallion smiled sadly at her. "Yes. It's a shame, a Blessing should be an event to be celebrated, but this is the only way to make them safe." He looked like he wanted to say more, but a shadow of pain crossed his muzzle and he turned away, trotting back around the circle.

The comment was cryptic enough that Fusion couldn't understand his meaning, so instead she took a step forward and lowered her head to talk to Shock Diamond, Phased Array and the other foals nearby. "Listen, this will look a bit scary but there's nothing to worry about. Being Blessed is a won--" The words almost stuck in Fusion's throat and she swallowed, suddenly assailed by doubt. "--wonderful thing." Over on the other side of the ring the Master placed the crown onto the head of a nervous-looking colt. Without a sound the pony went limp and collapsed to the ground.

Shock shifted uneasily, looking back at Fusion in askance. "Is that...?"

The mare hurriedly cut him off. "...normal? Yes, that's what's supposed to happen. He'll be back on his hooves in less than half a kilosecond." Shock and the closest foals settled down on hearing this, losing some of their nervous twitches. Fusion moved off, mimicking the other stallion and whispering reassurances to foals as she passed. As she walked around the outside of the circle, the Master did the same on the inside, leaving a trail of comatose ponies behind him. As more and more of them slumped to the ground, the remaining foals grew increasingly unsettled. 

Fusion heard it before she saw it. A sharp intake of breath followed by a string of half heard syllables, a gabble of distress from a scared pony. Her ears flicked forward, sweeping the arc of remaining foals for the source of the noise. There, amid the mix of awed, nervous or excited faces was one that was different. The little green colt's muzzle was twisted in revulsion and terror, his ears folded so far back that they were lost beneath his mane. Despite this, he stood his ground, eyes wide and fixed on the approaching Master. The mare cast her gaze frantically around the ring, looking for the two security ponies. No luck; one was making the fallen foals more comfortable, the other supporting the injured Phased as the Master held the crown over her head.

"...no please mummy help I can see it it's alive it’s hungry can't let it eat me help don't want..." 

The voice, now clearly audible, rose to a wordless keening whine that made Fusion's heart lurch. Already the foals to either side were shuffling nervously, wings twitching and flexing as if to be ready for flight. The mare took two quick strides and was at the green colt's side, dropping to her knees to press against him flank to flank and laying her wings over as many of the other foals as she could reach. He was shivering violently, teeth chattering so hard that when he tried to talk nothing understandable came out. A few foals away the Master set the black crown on Phased's head.

"Tangent Vector, isn't it?" Fusion said to him, trying to keep her voice as light as possible. "Don't fret, there's nothing to be afraid of. Your friends will all be fine and on their hooves in no time."

"Nooooooo..." The colt stopped shivering all at once, his wings flicking out and thrashing wildly, tangling with Fusion's own.

What does he think he's seeing? the mare thought as the colt's legs kicked out, trying to free himself from Fusion's wing. Her heart sank. Please don't make me do this, she thought, folding one wing completely over his small body and hugging him as hard as she could. This only made Tangent struggle more violently, and Fusion could feel him slipping backwards out of her grasp. A green nimbus flared up over his horn.

Feeling sick, Fusion laid her magic over the colt, snuffing out his power and holding him still in a white telekinetic haze. He could no longer move, but the mare could feel every twitch and shiver, every frantic gasp, every tiny flutter of his heart. She held his mouth shut to prevent any more of the panicked stream of consciousness speech, but this did nothing to stop the wordless whinnies of distress.

"Just a bit of nerves," Fusion said loudly, addressing the rest of the foals, dredging up the words her mother had used before her own Blessing. "It's a bit scary but afterwards it's wonderful." That felt more like a lie every time she said it, but Fusion kept her voice light and friendly. She started humming one of the lullabies sung by her father, drowning out the foal's muffled panic while stroking his flank with her wing. It seemed to work on his foalmates, at least; the adjacent fillies and colts stopped edging away and calmed down a little.

To take her mind off what she was being forced to do, Fusion tried to work out what had upset Tangent so much. She'd seen the Master Bless nearly a dozen foals as she walked around the circle, they'd all collapsed, of course, but there was nothing so horrifying in that. The green colt's eyes bulged as the crown settled on the neighbouring filly's head and he bucked violently in Fusion's unbreakable grip. A long, low moan escaped his gagged muzzle. 

Confused, the mare opened her shadow sight, just in time to see something that nearly made her drop the colt in shock. In the black silhouette world the filly was lit up like a translucent anatomy sculpture. Thick, glowing tentacles reached out from the crown to crawl with an obscene fluidity over and through her little body, internal organs lighting up as the magic touched each of them in turn. This... inspection was over in a few seconds, the writhing tendrils pulling back up to concentrate in her head, leaving a thin strand running down her spine that split up to make her lungs and heart glow with a sick, greenish light.

The real activity was now taking place in the filly's brain; compared to her other organs it shone like a distant lightning storm, the various parts illuminated with a stroboscopic flicker as wire-like tentacles of magic wove through the nerves. The rapid-fire motion slowed and stabilised, then most of the fibres withdrew with blinding speed, leaving only a dim network of wires joining horn, brain, heart and lungs. The filly collapsed to leave the Master holding the crown, and he moved to stand next to the green colt.

The Master's eyes widened when he saw the struggling foal, then hurriedly placed the crown on Tangent's head. There was the sudden sharp tang of urine in the air and Fusion felt something warm and wet trickle down the side of one of her legs. The colt froze when the crystals in the crown activated, and Fusion finally saw the whole process at point blank range. 

She'd missed the very start when she watched the filly being Blessed; this looked like something out of one of the early general science courses from before she had specialised in physics. In the shadow universe of her magic sight, the tentacles unfolded from the crown like those of a sea anemone; an impossibly large mass emerging from some higher dimension made only of coiled, writhing forms.

This close she could feel their questing movement. They also seemed to be interested in her; where she held the green colt in fur to fur contact the tentacles were concentrating, as if seeking some way to jump into her flesh and continue their exploration. Horn already glowing from the effort required to hold the foal still and suppress his magic, she had no trouble hiding the extra power required to rebuff the attack. Recoiling as if stung, they retreated up his body and converged on his brain.

Fusion could see the individual parts of Tangent's brain light up with bewildering speed, but as before the light show quickly finished to leave a faint network behind. It was then that the true horror of the situation became apparent. The colt's breathing hitched and his heart stuttered for several long seconds, then resumed their normal rhythm. In the last moments before the Blessing faded into invisibility against the foal's normal magical background, Fusion could see little pulses of light running down the threads to heart and lungs. Pulses that were in time with the motion of those organs.

The mare felt the bile rise in her throat and, as the colt went limp in her grip, staggered away from the remaining foals, barely able to put one hoof in front of the other. Finding a quiet patch of ground at the edge of the lights, Fusion fell to her knees and was violently sick.

A gentle touch at her shoulder and the quiet voice of her sister brought Fusion back to the real world.  "Are you okay, Fusion?" Gravity asked, sounding slightly puzzled. She recoiled when she caught sight of her sister's haunted expression. "What happened?"

"He was so scared," the white mare said in a broken voice, "so scared of the Blessing. All he wanted to do was get away and... and... and I held him down and let them do that to him."

There was no understanding in Gravity's eyes. "What do you mean?"

Fusion opened her mouth to tell her about how wrong the Blessing was, about what it left behind in a pony's head. A large shape stepped up behind Gravity and Fusion's mouth snapped shut, the mare abruptly realising where she was and who would be listening.

"I'm sorry you had to do that," the security stallion said. "That should have been my job. That was the worst reaction I've seen in a long time." He floated a wide mouthed bottle of water in Fusion's direction; the mare took it gratefully, rinsing the foul taste out of her mouth. "The appearance of the Blessing is intimidating if you've never seen it, that's why it normally takes place behind closed doors. If it's any consolation, he won't remember any of it."

No, it's not, Fusion thought. "I wish I could forget." She closed her eyes, but she could still see the glowing tentacles caressing the colt.

> 09 - Revelations from the Belly of the Beast
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist


The Pattern watched over its creations with a sense of anticipation, making continual minor adjustments to a myriad metabolisms to ensure they would all give birth at the same time. Finally that time came; focusing its thoughts the Pattern set in motion a process it had designed many megaseconds ago. Its personality was divided holographically across all of the newborn, each containing some element of the whole. As one, the thousands of now self-aware pups opened their eyes and smiled -- for a brief instant still connected through the lowest levels of space-time -- at the thrill of success coupled with the joy of starting its grandest experiment yet. The connection died as the final alterations to the brains were completed, each now a new individual with only a shared language and the most basic of survival information. 

What was left of the Pattern, devoid of will, sat in the realm of shortest length and shortest time, waiting for instructions.

=== Chapter 9 (remastered) Revelations from the Belly of the Beast ===

The world was dark and moved past Gunnulf in a series of uneven jerks. Over him was a sky of black armour scales that flexed and moved like the belly of a giant lizard; to either side a pair of scaled legs fringed with slate grey feathers moved with short steps, sharp talons digging furrows in the ground. As his head lolled with the swaying motion, he saw another pair of legs further back, these thickly covered with silver and black-spotted fur and tipped with small, but sharp-looking, claws. There was a noise by the back of his neck, a hissing gasp interspersed with mumbled words that he couldn't understand, other than that they sounded angry.

Grass, mud and rocks dragged against his armour harness and caught in his feathers and fur. He tried to move, tried to regain some control over his limbs, but his muscles were loose and trembled uncontrollably with random spasms. What he did manage was to weakly thrash his wings, an action that made the movement stop, but earned him a sharp blow across the side of the head and a snarled order to remain still. Something hard reached down behind his head, then with a grunt his shoulders were lifted off the ground and the uneven motion resumed.

His battered and dazed mind slowly recovered and started to piece together his situation. He hurt all over, the dull ache of his bruised body joined with a sharp tingling sensation that seemed to run in a wide band around his throat.

--the sudden flare of lightning against his skin and the gag inducing smell of burning feathers; the feeling of a warm body writhing under his talons, the recoil of his autogun and the sight of a small running shape tumbling into the grass-- 

The whole disjointed mess came crashing back into his head, without context and any apparent order; he opened his beak slightly to say something, but all that emerged was a weak croak.

Grey feathers and fur, Gunnulf thought, trying to understand what was happening. The only gryphon in the unit with that coloration was Geirstein Kafli. Sersjant Kafli. More memories flashed into his mind; the quiet babble of orders from his dislodged earbud, the bellow of a very angry gryphon.

The realisation hit him like a hammer blow and he whimpered slightly. Stupid pony, none of this would have happened if she'd just surrendered.

Now he knew what was going on, Gunnulf could feel the rage radiating from the sersjant; see it in the hard outlines of his muscles and the jerky movements of his legs. It slowly dawned on him just how much trouble he was likely to be in. The list of charges ran through his mind. Disobeying a direct order, attacking a prisoner, having to be shocked into unconsciousness by my command collar, he thought in anguish, they are going to send me back to the regular military. What's mother going to think when she hears about this? 

Built and bred for fighting, all gryphons worth anything were involved in military or police roles. Gunnulf's family was no exception; both parents military, with his mother a top rated long range scout for the Talons. The shame would kill her... right after she killed him. A tribunal and reassignment to one of the 'cannon fodder' battalions was looking more attractive with every passing second. 

With a grunt, Kafli opened his beak and dropped Gunnulf to the ground. The gryphon lay there, legs and wings twitching with returning sensation, staring up at his sersjant in misery. Kafli reached out with one foreclaw, wrapping his talons around the haul loop attached to Gunnulf's armour between his wing roots. 

Jerking the smaller gryphon to a semblance of a standing position, he shook the flysoldat violently, making his limbs flop about like those of a gutted rabbit. "You stupid bastard!" he hissed in Gunnulf's ear. "All that training and you had to throw it all away, just because you couldn’t control yourself."

"The pony--" Gunnulf said weakly, cringing slightly at the anger in Kafli's tone, his own voice slurred and hard to understand.

"I'll not hear any excuses for this failure, flysoldat Athils Gunnulf," Kafli said coldly, straightening his foreleg and throwing the gryphon back to the ground. "Now get up and move to the rally point. On the double!"

"Yes, Sersjant!" Gunnulf shouted back, although his reply came out as a hoarse croak, then scrambled to his paws and trotted, insides churning, towards the little green diamond on his visor's display. 

At the rally point was a sorry collection of gryphons, none of whom looked pleased to see him. They all scrambled to their paws when Kafli appeared, beaks snapping in salute. "Flysoldat, halt!" the sersjant snarled at Gunnulf, then stamped forward to sit on his haunches next to the flysoldat's side.

Gunnulf felt a sharp tugging on his harness as Kafli did something to his equipment, then his whole body felt lighter as the sersjant removed his autogun and ammunition packs, tossing them to one of his squad-mates. "Alfgeir, watch this idiot."

"Yes, Sersjant," the buzzard variant gryphon replied, not trying to keep his disgust out of his voice.

A few hundred seconds later and a sense of weight that Gunnulf didn't realise he'd been feeling evaporated. They must have turned off the suppressor, he thought, it's all over.

Sersjant Kafli looked at something on a foreleg mounted display, then nodded sharply. "That's the recall, form up."

Staggering slightly when Alfgeir shoved him, Gunnulf half opened his wings in an effort to get the last of the tingling from the muscles. The squad spaced themselves out, then leapt into the air and flew in a loose arrow formation back to the attack carrier.

Unlike the previous day's combat flight school training, this was a leisurely affair. Shorn of the heaviest components of his equipment harness, the flight should have been a joy. Instead, Gunnulf stared out at the night-time landscape, lit a ghostly grey by his thermal imager, and brooded over the injustice of it all. One pony was all it took to ruin my dreams, he thought. Ahead there was a lit patch of ground, the broad arrowhead of the Gorit's Vengeance, its lift fans glowing brightly in the infra-red, settling to the ground at one edge. 

As he glided in towards the rear loading ramp of the big carrier, Gunnulf caught a glimpse of the pony that had caused him all this trouble; the creature was standing by one of the security airtrucks, being tended by a medic. Near it, lying on the grass and staring at a group of happy-looking foals, was a white pony with a pink mane, and a dark blue one that seemed to almost be a shadow in the poor light. These two Gunnulf didn't recognise from the fight next to the training centre. 

Are you the ones who caused all this? he thought, committing their forms to memory.

===

Fusion lay on one of the few remaining patches of grass and stared at the excited, milling herd of foals. Just like me after my own Blessing, she thought, they really don't remember anything. They had all recovered completely within a few hundred seconds; some had immediately prostrated themselves, overwhelmed by the proximity of so many Masters, but most were gambolling around the adult ponies and talking excitedly about their experience. Even the green colt, Tangent Vector, was talking to one of the security ponies with an enormous smile on his face. She watched the adult laugh and say something back to the colt, then point in Fusion's direction. He nodded, then trotted over to where she lay.

"Mach Front," the colt said in a strained tone, glancing back at the security stallion, "says you stopped me from running away."

"Yes, I did," Fusion said apprehensively, searching the colt's face for any sign of what he was thinking.

Tangent looked at his hooves. "I just wanted to thank you, and... and I'm sorry for causing you all this trouble."

"Sorry," Fusion echoed, sounding stunned. "Oh, Tangent, you've got nothing to be sorry about." The mare craned her head forward and nuzzled the colt's pale green neck; partially to make sure he had the best possible memories of this experience, but mainly so he didn't see the expression on her face. Sweet Maker, foal, don't thank me for that, she thought miserably, then sniffed loudly and fixed a smile on her muzzle before pulling her head back. "I'm just glad you're okay."

A blast of warm wind and a wordless howl marked the return of the big aircraft that had dropped the gryphons and power-armoured Masters. Like the Hive Security vehicles, it wasn't using lifter crystals, but unlike them it balanced on jets of air from banks of big fans set into its delta wings, rather than plasma jets. It hovered near the training centre for a few seconds, then settled carefully down next to the half circle of smaller aircraft.

Out of the silent darkness swept a flight of gryphons in a neat arrow-head formation, gliding down to land behind military aircraft. Obviously responding to the same signal came six armoured, insectile bipeds, hard to see in their black and grey camouflage, moving as fast as a cantering pony. The leader didn't return to its vehicle, but instead ran up to one of the instrument packed security aircraft. The sounds of a heated argument floated across the grass, then the Master who'd been doing most of the shouting -- Agent Salrath -- pointed a claw at Fusion, Gravity and Animal and beckoned them over with an angry wave.

Fusion, further away than the others and arriving last, cringed slightly when the Agent's angry expression was turned upon her. 

"Too slow, servitor," she snapped, watching the white mare with a small, vindictive smile.

Fusion flinched from the expectation of the Maker's pain, but yet again nothing came. Her reaction satisfied the Agent, however, and she produced the same identification she'd showed to Fusion the first time. 

"These ponies are transferred to the control of the Hive attack carrier Gorit's Vengeance," she said, gesturing to the big arrowhead shaped military vehicle, then turned to glare at the armoured Master, already halfway back to the 'Vengeance'. "Salrath will be seeing the Captain again and things will be different," she growled under her breath.

"Forgive me, Agent Salrath," Fusion said in as meek a voice as she could manage, "what will happen to the foals?"

Agent Salrath narrowed her eyes and switched her blowtorch stare back to the white mare. "They will be interrogated to discover why they attacked the gryphon troopers, then Salrath imagines they will be euthanized," she said in an casual manner, watching the ponies' reactions with interest.

The breath woofed out of Fusion like she'd been kicked in the gut as the terrible meaning of those words sank in. No, she thought, not after all this! Beside her Gravity's legs buckled and Animal gave a shocked gasp. 

The Agent gave Fusion a smile that exposed far too many teeth for it to be genuine. "Go and wait by the carrier's middle hatch," she said, then turned and stalked away to leave the mare staring after her open mouthed.

Next to her she could hear Animal muttering something under his breath, a rapidly repeated string of words that had the feel of a litany to it. On her other side Gravity stood on trembling, splayed legs, half held up by her wings where they had fallen to the mud and grass. Her breathing was fast and shallow, eyes wide as she stared after the Agent. 

"Master, you can't..." Gravity whispered, then whinnied in anguish as a sledgehammer of pain hit her between the eyes. Her breath hitched and her legs folded, dropping the mare to her belly where she twitched and shivered all over, making faint little whimpering noises. 

Fusion dropped to Gravity's side, folding her wings protectively over the blue mare and nibbling behind her ears in the manner that always used to calm her when they were younger and without magic. Behind her she felt Animal move; the stallion came around to the other side of Gravity and lay down close to the trembling mare.

"Good, keep doing that," he said in a shaky voice. 

"What's wrong with her?" Fusion said softly, words muffled by the pale blue hair of her sister's mane. 

Animal ignored her and instead spoke directly to Gravity, his voice getting stronger with each second. "I know it hurts, but focus on my voice. The Masters are the paws of the Maker. Say it with me, even if it's only in your head. The Masters are the paws of the Maker." He kept whispering the phrase to her, over and over, while Fusion gently nibbled through the fur between her sister's ears.

Body moving through the instinctive grooming ritual, Fusion's mind was free to pick apart what might have happened to Gravity.  This was similar to what had happened to Random when she'd realised she'd attacked their own military; the sudden punishment for doing something wrong. 'Master, you can’t,' Fusion thought, that was the last thing she said. She's desperate to save the foals, but that would mean going against the wishes of Salrath. Which means punishment... but why for so long? Normally the little flashes of pain were just that: little. It didn't take much to nudge a pony onto the right thinking path. She can't stop thinking about it, Fusion realised, that's what Animal is trying to do, break the destructive cycle!

"...paws of the Make..." 

The whisper was so faint that the only way Fusion could be sure that it was anything at all was by the tiny movements of Gravity's jaw. The next repetition was stronger, as was the next and the next. By the fifth she sounded almost normal, if a bit weak. Fusion gave her sister one last nuzzle then leaned forward to whisper in her ear.

"We have to go."

Gravity lifted her head, eyes flicking between the other two ponies, a look of puzzlement on her face. 

"What happened? Why am I lying down?" she said in a hoarse whisper. "The last thing I remember is... is..." Her face crumpled and the fur on her muzzle became damp with tears, breathing accelerating to a rapid pant. 

"Gravity...?" Fusion began, cursing inside for interrupting Animal's treatment, but stopped when the other mare squeezed her eyes shut and made a conscious effort to take deep breaths. As fast as it had started, the panic attack faded; Fusion and Animal had to quickly get up and step back as the blue mare struggled to her hooves. Head bowed and muttering the same litany, Gravity broke into an uneven trot and headed for the carrier. 

Fusion glanced questioningly at Animal. "Should we... ?"

"No," the red stallion replied. "She needs a little time to settle, get the bad thoughts out of her head." He then looked over Fusion appraisingly. "You surprise me though, you seemed almost completely unaffected. I mean, I must be four times your age and even I nearly succumbed to punishment fugue. Are you sure you're okay?"

Fusion gave a shaky laugh. "I've had a few shocks recently and it's opened my eyes to the kinds of hard decisions the Masters have to make," she said, resisting the urge to tell Animal what she really thought about that kind of decision. ...and there was something about the way the Agent had told her about the fate of the foals. She'd been too pleased with herself -- and why tell them anything at all? Because she wanted us to suffer, Fusion thought with a flash of insight. A faint hope bloomed in her heart, was it possible that the Agent had lied just to hurt them? No, she thought, not us, the other Masters. She wanted us for herself. Gravity's pain was incidental. A flicker of unfamiliar emotion coursed through Fusion and was gone, so fast she couldn't identify it.

Animal stared at Fusion for a few moments, a thoughtful look on his face. "I suppose so. Still, if it ever weighs too heavily on your mind, please talk to me." He stared hard at the mare. "Me, or any trained pony medic only, though. We've all had special training to help cope with the consequences of such... difficult decisions. Definitely don't talk to Gravity, at least not for a number of days." His gaze strayed to the blue mare, now entering the deep shadow under the delta wing of the Vengeance. 

Fusion and Animal joined Gravity in the darkness between the heavy landing legs of the attack carrier. Here, outlined with dim lights was a ramp and hatch, opening out into five narrow stalls. Two of the stalls were occupied, the pale outlines of hip and tail barely visible in the gloom. Another armoured Master was waiting for them -- or maybe it was the same one, the suits were externally identical -- with three sets of grey metal collars in its paws. Motioning the ponies to stand still, the Master proceeded to lock a collar around each pony's neck, then produced a jewelled metal ring with a trailing cable. The ring was dropped on to Fusion's horn to rest against her head, tightened up with a twist, then the cable was connected to the collar. The mare watched nervously as the same procedure was carried out on her two companions, then the Master stepped back and tapped out a command on the suit's forearm.

Instantly, Fusion felt as if she was separated from the world by a sheet of glass, that same sense of dislocation as when the thaumic suppressor had been operating. A feeling of deep unease welled up within the mare and her ears drooped involuntarily. The Master checked some readout on his suit, nodded once in satisfaction, then waved the ponies up the ramp and into the stalls.

Fusion was the last one in, standing between her sister and the strange pony on her right. The stalls were made from expanded metal mesh with horizontal lines of padding, barely wide enough for one pony each. Front to back they were even tighter; the rear hatch closed to press against her rump while her chest brushed a padded bar. Her head leaned out into what was basically a small box, again with metal mesh sides and lined with strips of padding. Even the floor wasn't flat; between her hooves ran another line of padding, positioned such that she really could only stand in one place.

The chamber was too dim to make out any more than vague shadows, but she could smell the two new ponies, a stallion and a mare, at either end of the row of stalls. Shuffling slightly -- the only movement her body could make -- Fusion ruffled her wings in a vain effort to get comfortable, then cursed under her breath when she banged one of her wing elbows against the unforgiving wall. 

There was a quiet nicker from her right; with her eyes now starting to adapt to the gloom, she saw the unknown pony looking in her direction through the mesh.

"Never been in a military transport, huh?" he said, sounding amused.

"No," Fusion replied shortly, flexing her bruised wing slightly.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have laughed. Took me ages to get used to these things. The collars don't help, obviously, but they are for everyponies' protection. Some ponies panic, you know? Oh, the name's Lamellar Flow, by the way. Sleepy pony over there is Carbon Carbon. What's yours?"

"Fusion Pulse. You're in flight dynamics?"

"Yes, we -- there're normally five of us -- do the repairs on this aircraft. Most of the big stuff has a lot of moving parts, so they need a lot of maintenance."

Fusion digested that for a second, running through the implications. "Wait, you mean you have to fix this thing while it's in the air!"

"Oh yes," Lamellar said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "This is a military bird, they make them for maximum performance, meaning very fine tolerances. If we weren't here, this thing would have an engine failure practically every flight." He paused, taking in Fusion's flattened ears, wide eyes and flared nostrils. "Hey, I'm joking!"

"Mostly, anyway." The voice came from the other end of the stalls. "I take it you've already introduced me, Lamellar?"

"Yes, Carbon, I was just explaining to Fusion here what we do."

"A pleasure to meet you, Fusion. Who else do we have here?"

Fusion rested her chin on the padded floor of her head box as the introductions went round the stall. Somewhere behind her something started to whine, faint at first, then with rapidly increasing volume.

"That's it everypony, get yourselves as comfortable as possible and fold your wings in tight."

"Why, what's going to happen?" That from Gravity, voice sounding forlorn and lost in the mechanical racket.

"Restraint system's going to inflate to make sure you don't bang about," Lamellar said. "You did see this thing when it came in, didn't you?"

"Restraints? I can barely move in--!" Gravity's outraged voice was cut off with a gasp.

Fusion also gasped as the lines of padding abruptly expanded from all sides. The walls pushed hard against her flanks, while something puffed up between her hooves to press against her underside from tail root to neck. It happened so fast that she didn't have time to be afraid, only time to squeeze her eyes shut against the padding that also held her head. Completely immobilised, she panicked for a second, struggling futilely against the restraint system before relaxing again. Apart from a faint feeling of helplessness it was actually quite comfortable. She tried to reach out with her magic to straighten one ear where it was being held shut by the restraints, forgetting for a moment about the device fitted to her horn. There was something there, she could almost feel it, but it was vague and hard to grasp, like trying to pick up water with your hoof. There was a sudden sharp stab of pain from the collar and she stopped trying. 

Against the noise of the engines she could just make out the quiet hiss of breath drawn in through a narrow gap, followed by a strangely muffled sob.

Fusion rolled her eyes in the direction of her sister, but the restraint system kept her in a darkness more profound than midnight under a corral shelter. Her nostrils flared uselessly, bringing only the faint smell of the stall's previous occupant. 

"Gravity, are you okay?" Fusion yearned to reach out and touch her sister, but the blue mare might as well have been on the other side of the planet for all the good it did. If Gravity was falling back into punishment fugue and Fusion couldn't provide any physical comfort... "Listen, try to put the Agent out of your mind, think... think back to when you got your labour tattoo." She nearly said 'Blessing,' but after what she'd seen, she'd never think of that in a good way ever again.

No reply, just the quiet sound of a whinny made at the back of the throat... as if the muzzle making it was being held shut. "Gravity, answer me!" Again there was no reply. The mare reached out with her magic again, pushing against the fuzzy boundaries of the mechanism that suppressed her power. For an instant she could feel the outline of her sister, an indistinct shape blurred as if by heavy blankets, then the collar shocked her again, this time with enough force to make her squeal in pain. That glimpse had been enough, though, enough to show her sister's head held at an awkward angle by the restraints. 

Panic rose in Fusion and made her voice high and brittle. "Lamellar, there's something wrong with Gravity!"

A faint orange glow permeated the padding over Fusion's eyes and the whistling gasps faded to a more normal breathing pattern.

"There you go, blue, take it easy. I've got this," came Lamellar's cheerful voice. "You're a little on the small side for what we normally carry." 

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou." Gravity's words ran together in an almost incomprehensible mumble, then she continued in a slightly ashamed tone. "Sorry, sis, those pads took me by surprise and I panicked. Glad you were looking out for me."

"Me too. I'll let you into a little secret, I panicked too -- but at least I wasn't being suffocated." Or just recovering from being locked in a downward spiral of self-inflicted punishment. Despite everything, Fusion was unable to keep a smile from crossing her face. "Look on the bright side; at least you're not male..."

"Sis!" Gravity sounded slightly shocked, but at least the tremble was gone from her voice. "So why all this fuss, nothing's happ...ooooooh!" She squeaked in shock as the engines abruptly thundered and their weight trebled, followed by a series of fast changes in direction that would have left the ponies battered black and blue if they'd been able to move.

"YEEEEHAWWWW" Lamellar shouted from her right. "I love take-offs!

===

"Restrain the prisoner."

Kafli's order made Gunnulf's heart sink. "I'll behave," he said, hating the whining tone that entered his voice.

"Too right you will," Alfgeir said, with a good deal of satisfaction, stepping to an equipment closet and pulling out a bundle of straps and mesh, before taking two strides back to stand next to the gryphon. "Resist," he said with an unpleasant smile, "please."

Gunnulf snarled back at him, but didn't move as the other gryphon dropped the harness on his back, locking the straps around his throat and between his fore- and hind legs, then tightening the mesh panels holding his wings down to the point where he couldn't even twitch them. Alfgeir then pushed him to the floor, locking the leg straps to the rest of the harness and preventing him from standing.

Alfgeir held the final part of the restraints in one foreclaw, eyeing Gunnulf speculatively. "Sersjant?" he said, holding the conical fabric bag up so the other could see it.

"I don't want to see any part of him," Kafli said, waving one foreleg negligently.

"Yes, Sersjant," Alfgeir replied. "Close your beak," he said to Gunnulf, who had opened it to protest.

He saw the look in Alfgeir's eyes, and restricted his response to a glare of hatred. The hood slid smoothly over his head, covering his eyes completely and clipping securely to the harness' collar, leaving only the last third of his beak exposed. Gunnulf tried to curse Alfgeir, but the other gryphon just yanked sharply on the strap that encircled the narrow end of the hood, pulling his beak shut and reducing him to an angry grunt.

“Think on this; you better hope you get transferred, because you’ve probably ruined all our chances as well,” Alfgeir whispered into Gunnulf’s ear, shoving the bound gryphon against the wall with enough force to make the breath wheeze from his body.

The flight back to the aerie was an exercise in misery, endless darkness coupled with random changes in direction that made his flight instincts constantly twitch his immobilized wings. Trussed up and unable to move, every sharp turn either banged his haunches against the bulkhead or threatened to send him rolling into the centre of the carrier's bay. In the end it was a relief when someone attached a cable to his harness and pulled him tight against the metal hull.

===

"How long are we going to be in here?" Gravity asked.

"Depends where we're headed. Why'd you three get picked up, anyways? We were ordered to drop off the rest of our team and get to you as fast as possible." Lamellar Flow sounded thoughtful. "I never thought I'd see those stall doors open while in flight. Guess that explains why the Masters train us for high velocity airflow insertion." His tone brightened. "Hey, it did look like fun, hope I get a chance to try it!"

Fusion sighed, the stallion's almost automatic enthusiasm for non pony-powered flight was getting to her. With a morbid curiosity she asked the inevitable question. "How fast?"

"This time we were only just supersonic. The trick is to fold up yourself in as much as possible and hold it there with your magic -- and resist the instinct to open your wings until you slow riiiight down, otherwise you'll snap them clean off!" 

Fusion winced, his tone was positively bubbly. 

"No dodging the question, now. Why did the Masters divert us to pick you up?"

"You don't know?"

"Nah, they don't tell us any more than they need to, just that we were doing a hot drop and to be ready."

Fusion snorted and relaxed against the padding. At least the surges of acceleration had stopped. "I'm a... research subject at the APRI, something to do with fundamental understanding of how magic works. They don't tell me much either. All I know is that they've got me in one of the synchrotrons while they turn up the power." The mare paused, wondering how much to tell this stranger. "I was doing one of the standard thaumic power tests and Animal thought I'd lost control of my magic. The backlash must have tripped an attack warning sensor or something." 

"...and that was where we came in." Lamellar was silent for a second. "Anomalous physics huh? You must be very proud, knowing you are doing such vital work," he said, sounding slightly awed. "I'm proud of what I do but, wow, you're advancing the frontiers of science!" Another pause. "What about your sister and the 'vet?"

"Just because they were there, I suppose."

"Say, you said you'd lost control, that's real nasty. I've seen that once before in training. They push us hard, you know -- I mean, another Hive isn't going to give us any breaks, is it? How did you... you know?"

Avoid decorating the landscape or being subject to a field euthanization? Fusion filled in silently. "My sister, she deflected Animal's aim with the mercy wand, then disrupted the spell I was using. It snapped me out of it."

"That's real quick thinking." The stallion raised his voice. "Nice going, blue, hope when my time comes I've got someone like you to watch my back."

"My name is Gravity, and thank you," came the muffled reply.

===

Even though the aircraft stayed subsonic on its return leg, the trip should have been far quicker than the one Fusion had taken on the back of a cargo lifter. This trip, however, was taking ages. Half way in, Lamellar and Carbon had needed to conduct running repairs on one of the big wing fans -- fortunately the thing had enough spares that they didn't have to try this frankly mind boggling task on one while it was spun up. Fusion listened to the maintenance ponies sweat and strain with rising awe, as they filled the stalls with horn light only dimly seen through the padding. To carry out such fine manipulation at a distance while shut in a small metal box with no direct line of sight was something beyond her experience; it obviously required a great deal of concentration and power. Fusion kept silent for fear of distracting them and perhaps causing something far worse than a simple engine failure.

It was a long process and, as Fusion waited, those little whinnies and gasps took on a darker meaning, bringing back what the stress of launch and her subsequent panic over Gravity's near suffocation had managed to suppress. With every muscle held rigid by the restraints and eyes seeing only faint, formless glows, her mind started to play tricks on her. A brain hungry for sensation took those noises and merged them with every slight vibration and movement of the aircraft, translating it into the twitch and shiver of a small body held close to her side. Eyes wide in the darkness, the memories came flooding back until she was certain that in the corner of her vision, just out of sight, there was something green and snake-like reaching for her.

Unable to move even slightly, breath coming in short gasps and panic rising, her mind took the only avenue available to it. Her magic bloomed in a fast rising surge, a desperate telekinetic shove to get that horror away from her fur. The half forgotten circle of metal around her throat abruptly seemed to turn white hot; a flash of agony so startling that it shocked every thought out of her head. With the pain, sanity returned and with it came a true understanding of her situation. Trapped in a metal box flying to Maker knew where, powerless to do anything to save herself or her sister if anything went wrong. 

Will this collar even let me fly? Fusion thought, a sudden nightmare vision flashing across her mind; the repair failing catastrophically and the aircraft disintegrating in midair, the collared ponies falling free and forgotten while parachutes bloomed and winged shapes glided far, far overhead. I don't want to be helpless any more. Guilt gnawing at her, Fusion reached a decision.

Under the cover of Lamellar and Carbon's efforts, the mare examined the magic suppressing collar in the only way available to her: by provoking it. Despite the superficial similarity with the thaumic suppression vehicle's effect, it wasn't quite the same. It did block much of her power but, as she'd noticed, there was something still there. With enough concentration it was possible to perform magic, but that was when the collar's other function came in. The thing would sense a spell being cast and shock the wearer until he or she stopped. It didn't take much to trigger a shock that, while not very painful, was enough to ruin a pony's concentration if they weren't expecting it.

With sweat pouring down her flanks and muscles aching and tingling from repeated electrocution, Fusion tested the collar's magic output-response time envelope. There'd been no actual order not to use her magic, although the fact that the collar punished her for it certainly implied that. In a strange way she actually welcomed the shocks; they were a surrogate for the far more intimate pains she should have been receiving from the Maker for straying so far from the right path. When the last 'experiment' left her gasping open mouthed in pain and desperately trying to keep her breathing silent, she had her answer. If she wanted to -- and was willing to take the pain -- she thought she could spike her magic fast enough to break the collar before it overwhelmed her. She'd have to really want it, though; the power required would be ten times that she'd used to image Gravity -- and the collar's discouragement response appeared to rise exponentially.

It was almost ten kiloseconds later by Fusion's estimate and the mare was just starting to fall into an exhausted sleep, lulled by the constant vibration and the comfortable, warm smell of other ponies, when the vehicle landed with a thump that rattled her teeth even through the restraints. The inflated padding collapsed with a sudden loud hiss and she was back on her hooves -- and would have fallen over if the stall wasn't so small to start with. Behind them the hatch whined open, letting in the now cold night air and the smell of overheated ceramics.

"Ponies out." The voice was the normal growl of a Master, but not one Fusion recognised.

Awkwardly backing down the ramp, the ponies lined up under the delta wing of the aircraft, the still gently spinning lift fans ruffling their manes. All five bowed low to the figure standing in front of them -- a male Master, still armoured although now without his helmet -- who stared back with obvious distaste. "Pony Carbon Carbon and Pony Lamellar Flow, dismissed," he barked. The two ponies nodded sharply and trotted off towards one of the low buildings surrounding the flat concrete apron. Fusion kept her eyes lowered as they left, the loud clip-clop fading into the night. Unconsciously, she shuffled towards her sister for reassurance. Gravity was silent, head bowed and staring at the ground.

Another glare and the Master turned and loped off, shouting "Ponies follow," over his shoulder.

All three broke into an easy canter after the Master, maintaining a respectful distance. Behind them two other Masters, these helmeted and with weapons drawn, followed. Around them the base appeared to stretch to the horizon, a central plain of brightly lit concrete surrounded by the hills of buildings in basic geometrical shapes. The area the group ran across bustled with activity and the movements of flying and earth-bound vehicles. Two types were especially common: the big deltas like the 'Vengeance' and smaller lenticular shapes that were mostly gun.

Most seemed highly maneuverable and were able to jump straight up into the night sky without any warning; the random roars and whines of aircraft movements were making the ponies increasingly twitchy as they crossed the landing field. Finally escaping from the vast expanse of the apron, past rows of half buried cylinders with large doors, they came to another landing ground half hidden between a tall building with a curiously sloped set of windows at the top and another bunker. Here there was a smaller, more conventional air vehicle, floating a few hoof widths off the ground on lifter crystals. Fusion stared it with trepidation; it was a glossy black cargo hauler with no windows in the back and the stylised slit pupil eye design of Hive Security on the side.

Two Masters stepped out of the driving compartment, both well groomed and with smart but somehow lumpy waistcoats. The first, a slender female with brindled fur, stepped forward and lifted up one paw. Fusion felt her ears droop despite her best efforts to stop them; it was Agent Salrath.

"Salrath knew she'd be meeting the Captain again. He is thanked for his service, but H-Sec will take the servitors now."

"The Captain doesn't approve of politicians interfering with the military's operations," the helmet-less Master replied, somehow managing to inject more ire into his tone than he'd used on the ponies. "Does H-Sec have a transfer order this time?"

The second security Master, a male with the same slender build, rolled his eyes at this while Salrath smiled widely back at the Captain. "Unfortunately, this operation has now been classified under general order ninety nine seventy; there are to be no written or electronic records of this transaction, does the Captain understand?"

The Captain glanced at a display on his forearm, then made a face like he was eating something rotten. He moved to stand next to Animal, then did something that caused all the collars and horn rings to loosen. "Oh, the Captain understands, alright," he said, pulling the collars off with angry motions and enough force to make the ponies stagger. He turned to the anonymous armoured figures, waved for them to follow him and started to walk off. "Apparently none of us are here."

===

Agent Salrath did something to a bracer on her left forearm, causing the unexpectedly thick rear doors of the hauler to open on silent hinges, then gestured the ponies into the cargo compartment. Fusion went first, wings flaring to maintain her balance, walking quickly to the rear of the chamber before turning to face the other two. "Come on," she mouthed silently to Gravity, seeing the mare's hesitation. They hadn't actually been ordered, but that would be next -- and it was always a good idea to be proactive; the Masters liked it when a pony could anticipate their wishes.

That was all the encouragement Gravity needed, and she quickly jumped into the hauler, turned and backed up to stand next to her sister. Fusion leaned close, suddenly feeling very tired. She pressed against the other mare flank to flank, partially to reassure Gravity and partially for her own comfort, unmindful of the tender electrical burns under the fur of her throat. Animal Scanner climbed in more sedately, glanced at the two mares occupying the front of the cargo space, then turned sideways to fill the other end of the compartment. The doors hissed closed and left them in absolute darkness, until all three ponies conjured weak glows from the tips of their horns.

Fusion swung her head around, examining the inside of the vehicle. The first thing that caught her eye was the pattern; a hexagonal array of inlayed silver wires covering every hoof-width of the chamber; walls, ceiling and floor -- even the doors, what Fusion could see of them past Animal's bulk. She lifted one hoof and scratched thoughtfully at the floor, then fed more power into her horn to examine it in more detail. There was a shocking flash of white in her head, as if she'd shone a bright light around a dark room and suddenly encountered a mirror. Wincing, she cut the scan, ducking her head to rub it against a foreleg to alleviate the pain.

Lifting her head again she looked between Gravity and Animal. "Why is this hauler shielded? It's not like we'd try to break out," she said plaintively.

Animal Scanner sighed and tapped one hoof against a wall. "It's not for us; all H-Sec vehicles are like this. Let's you move anything you like without risk of discovery, I guess."

Fusion hesitated and turned slightly to stare at the stallion. "I'm sorry for what I said to you before, it wasn't fair," she whispered; with the violence, threats and near death of her sister, her anger at Animal for nearly killing her had long since faded. It was replaced instead with that same unfamiliar emotion she'd felt before, but this time Fusion was able to identify it. Her mouth opened in shock as she finally realised that it was anger, but anger made alien by its impossible target... the Masters. Seeing Animal's slightly bemused expression she cleared her throat. "Sorry."

"After all this you've still got that on your mind, really?" he said, astonished, then shook his head. "You were under a lot of stress at the time, no apology needed." He grinned weakly. "I'm just as glad as you are that your sister was there. When I file my report I'll be recommending a change in protocol; if there's even a chance we can stop a thaumic excursion without using a mercy wand, I think it's worth the slight risk."

Fusion nodded back at him, one small weight lifting from her shoulders. Beneath their hooves the floor tilted slightly and there was a sensation of movement and turning, but instead of an upwards motion they seemed to be going down a slope. 

"Tunnels... that bunker to the right must have been an opening to some kind of transport system. We flew a long way; I'd have thought we'd have been well outside the Hive's normal tunnel network." Gravity voiced what they all felt; it was hard to hide such things from creatures versed in the three dimensions of flight. "There was something similar at my launch site... a pretty normal looking building with a lot of traffic. I always assumed it was an underground warehouse, but I guess it could be the terminus for a tunnel system."

Fusion twitched her wings in a shrug. "I couldn't say; all my time has been spent in the Anomalous Physics Institute. It's all underground, obviously, but I only ever went in through the equipment access. Before these last few days I'd never even been in a vehicle." She eyed the red stallion. "What about you Animal? You know anything about this?"

"It's not a secret, not exactly, anyway. My medical training includes disaster relief -- you know: rescue, debris search and triage. Mostly in the Hive, but we did some in tunnels that seemed to go on forever. Big ones, too; I bet they go to all the way to the perimeter defence stations."

===

Eventually, the ponies sensed a slowing of the hauler, then after a long moment of stillness the big rear doors cracked open to let in a blinding light and the scent of familiar Masters.

"Ponies out," Academician Vanca said in her normal, impatient voice. 

Heads bowed and eyes squinting against the glare the three ponies silently lined up behind the hauler. After kiloseconds of darkness, the light -- actually no brighter than normal corridor lighting - made it hard to tell where they were, but Fusion could make out some large ramps and hulking bits of lifting machinery. Above it all was a sign reading 'Anomalous Physics Bay Twelve' -- she was back at the Institute. Despite the fact that this place held nothing but memories of pain for her, the white mare felt extremely relieved not to be in some anonymous security facility at the dubious mercy of Salrath. She winced at that thought. Where are Random and her class now? 

Vanca paced around Fusion, snapping her claws at Korn until the Student produced a small instrument and handed it to her. The white mare felt the itch of the scanner as it was passed over her horn, then staggered for balance as the Master roughly extended her right wing to inspect its leading edge. Apparently satisfied, the Academician opened her claws and allowed Fusion to refold her wings. 

Dismissing the two security agents with a wave of her paw she turned to Korn. "Medical isolation for the subject." A claw pointed at Fusion. "That and that." The claw moved to Gravity and then Animal. "Will go to the animal house on floor five. Empty one of the subunits."

Korn opened his mouth, cast a worried glance in Fusion's direction and hesitated, then obviously decided to say what he was going to say anyway. "Academician, Korn isn't certain that..." he said, trailing off when he saw the look on Vanca's face. "Yes, Academician," he said, averting his gaze. Sighing, he gestured to the three ponies, then walked to a door at the rear of the loading bay. The ponies followed, hoof steps echoing back from the bare concrete walls.

"Why is Security still here?" The sharp voice was Vanca's.

"Hive Security has decided that Vanca's work requires a physical presence," Agent Salrath said smoothly.

Fusion turned her head slightly to watch the three Masters out of the corner of her eye, while swivelling one ear backwards to catch Vanca's reply, then winced as the Master practically shouted at the Agents.

"This is unacceptable, Vanca will not tolerate this interference!"

"Security is sorry, but the Academician has no choice in the matter."

Fusion could clearly hear Vanca grinding her teeth. She abruptly threw up her paws and stalked off in disgust. "Fine. Stay out of the way and don't blame Vanca if you get irradiated," she said over her shoulder.  The agents exchanged slightly worried looks, then trotted quickly to catch up. The last thing Fusion saw before they left the bay was another security hauler pull up; more agents and another pony climbed out.

Three long corridors and a lift ride later they came to the small medical section. Here, lining the sides of a short corridor were a number of doors. Korn did something to a keypad set into the wall and caused one of the doors, a thick, heavy looking thing with a small inset window, to push into the room and slide sideways on runners.

"The pony Fusion Pulse will enter the room." Korn gestured at the door. "Rest."

Feeling slightly numb, Fusion walked slowly forwards, unwilling to be separated from her sister and the subconscious comfort of her own kind. I don't have to do this, she thought, the realisation hitting her like a lightning bolt. She slowed slightly as she reached the entrance. But what should I do? She stepped into the brightly lit room, then turned to face her sister as the door started to close. Seeing the blue mare's concerned expression, she smiled and winked, just before the gap vanished and the door sealed itself with solid finality. Now out of sight of the others the feelings of loneliness and vulnerability hit full force and she slumped, smile vanishing like she'd turned off a light.

Turning again, she paced the chamber; four steps, turn, four steps. The room was bare apart from a combination water / food dispenser built into the wall next to the door, a thick foam pad against one wall and a fluidised bed waste dispose-all opposite the door. A fine tracery of wires laced every surface -- the walls, floor and even the foam pad itself. Instrumented, Fusion thought dully. The briefest flicker of magic confirmed what she'd already guessed; the small room concealed enough equipment to monitor her every physiological parameter. There was no light switch and no sign of the little window on this side of the door.

Four steps, turn, four steps. Fusion paused to stare at the camera dome in the centre of the ceiling, its dark eye following her as she lowered her head and started to pace again. Four steps, turn, four steps. I should stop, I've been ordered to rest. Four steps, turn, four steps. With an effort of will, Fusion stepped on to the foam, folded her legs under her belly, and lay down. With a deep breath she settled her head to the firm surface and closed her eyes.

Even if she felt like sleep it was too bright. Shifting restlessly, mind whirling she tried and failed to settle. Rolling on her side she pulled one wing up, tucking her head into the warm, feathered darkness. Fusion tried to analyse her own mental state, picking apart the events of the last few days to try and understand what had changed. She'd thought things, done things, that nopony she'd ever heard of had ever done.

To even consider acting against the will of a Master should have been quite literally unthinkable; Fusion could remember quite clearly the little rebellions from back around the time she'd been Blessed and was just starting her advanced training with actual Masters. Tiny things, slight hesitations in following an order, unspoken desires to do something she wanted to do, and so on. 'Bad thoughts' the teachers had called them, always quickly followed by pulses of physical discomfort -- headaches, chest pains or muscles locking rigid; little messages from the Maker telling her that she'd done something wrong. The reverse was also true, the flashes of pure joy whenever she'd done something she knew was her best. So it went, pleasure and pain, carrot and stick, her behaviour -- her very thoughts -- conforming to become what she knew was right in the megaseconds that followed as her exposure to the Masters increased.

Like any pony she'd always been proud of her work, happy to help the Masters. She was a quick learner and hardly ever felt the pain that came with bad thoughts. She'd been overjoyed when she'd been selected to help with the Academician's work -- this was something unique! But now... something had taken away the certainty that the Masters were always right and with it had gone the pain and the joy. Without the pain, how was she supposed to know what to think?

===

Kiloseconds passed with no relief. Under Fusion's wing the pad became wet with a steady flow of tears, her mind turning down darker and darker paths. She was afraid. Oh, there had been times when she'd felt a little scared, but there was always that rock solid confidence to back her up, that certainty that the Masters knew what they were doing. Now that certainty was gone, replaced by fear. Fear for herself, fear for her sister.

Two things popped into her mind at that point. The first was the full name of where Korn had taken the other two ponies: Experimental Animal Housing. The second was the red stallion she barely knew, Animal Scanner. 

Animal.

Fusion had never thought about that before, always just considered it a different word for 'pony', but that wasn't true. Animal also meant bird or fish or cow. The Masters ate animals. Not ponies, she'd never heard of that, but they were treated the same. Treated well enough because you wanted something from them, but ultimately disposable. The names of places, the very name and job title of the pony medic, screamed out the Master's attitude to ponykind.

All the nightmares of the recent days stacked up in her mind: her own near death during an experiment, the brutal beating of her friend at the paws of Hive military, the use of microwave weapons against foals. Those same foals subjected to the now revealed horror of the Blessing, then casually condemned to interrogation and euthanisation by Hive Security. The Blessing... she'd always been told that the punishment came direct from the Maker, pain for failing to adequately assist its material children, the Masters. Now free from the spell's modification of her behaviour and left alone with nothing to do but worry and think, the scientist in Fusion came to the fore, reaching a conclusion that was as obvious as it was painful. 

What her parents had told her was a lie. The Blessing sat in the brain of each and every pony like a maggot in an apple, feeding off its host's magic and dispensing reward or punishment according to some set of arbitrary parameters. The Maker, if it existed, had nothing to do with it.

She examined not only the last few days but all her memories in the light of this revelation, mind galloping in ever tighter circles as she fell into an exhausted sleep.

I don't want to be helpless anymore.

> 10 - Pony in a Particle Accelerator, Redux
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist

No complex system, one able to change and adapt to external events, is ever static. The more complex the system the more likely it will be that it will exhibit unexpected behaviours as it evolves. So it was with what was left of the Pattern. Tens of thousands of years are a long time for a flesh and blood being, but for one made from the quantum foam at the bottom of space-time...

You can't call it the Pattern, because that entity has spread itself across a myriad of meat brains. It is an emergent property of those countless requests to manipulate physics in ways that might be called 'magic’ and rides along on the backs of the complex but stupid automata that it shares existence with. It’s nowhere near as powerful a mind as the Pattern was, but it is truly sentient and has desires and a will of its own; a mind as sophisticated as any of those the Pattern currently inhabits, but far, far faster.

Compared to the ordered eleven dimensional machinery left behind by the Pattern it is anarchic, it is Chaos.

It is not part of the Pattern's plan.

=== Chapter 10 (remastered): Pony in a Particle Accelerator, Redux ===
Author’s note: for reference 1 kilosec ~15 minutes, 1 megasec ~10 days, 1 gigasec ~32 years.


Korn jerked awake to a herd beast's short lived death cries and the sound of claws ripping through flesh. "Off," he mumbled, stilling the alarm before it could play the sound again at twice the volume. The alarm program had been a present from Ithra after he'd slept through a breakfast date she'd arranged -- apparently it had been designed by a psychologist to wake the soundest sleeper by a firm shake of the hindbrain. An evil psychologist, Korn thought, looking at the time display in distaste as his heart rate sank back to more normal levels, works every time, though. Crawling out of the low-ceilinged, fur lined sleeping den he stood upright and scratched vigorously, running slightly too long claws through his fur from knees to shoulder. With the lights still off he padded into the kitchen nook to rummage through the cold store. Apart from that it might give him a heart attack one day, the only real problem with the alarm was it always made him ravenous.

Reaching into the cold store, Korn pulled a bloody handful of diced meat from one container, gave it a sniff -- not as fresh as it could be, but still within the bounds of edibility for a bachelor -- then dumped it in a bowl. Transferring this to the induction oven, he idly licked the blood off his palm while the machine flash heated his breakfast to body temperature. A few seconds later he'd retrieved the bowl and was slumped in a chair front of the wall screen and eating with the normal grace of a male used to his own space.

"Screen on, access APRI labournet, Fusion Pulse TC4668," he mumbled between mouthfuls.

"That servitor has not connected to labournet for twenty six kiloseconds. Its communicator is listed as destroyed; no replacement has been logged. The servitor is currently in medical isolation room four." 

The voice was that of Ithra; Korn gave a guilty glance over his shoulder -- she'd not been around to his apartment since he'd missed their last date -- but he dare not forget that he'd set the screen to her voice. 'Creepy' she'd called it when Korn had let slip what he'd done. Perhaps he could rig an automatic change for when she'd decided he'd suffered enough and turned up unannounced...

He shook his head. "Idiot," he muttered. "Bring up the camera for that room."

The screen, a standard model that filled most of the opposite wall, showed its 'waiting' symbol for a few seconds then opened the connection. With his dark adapted eyes the view was blindingly bright, and Korn only caught a glimpse of a white shape huddled against one grey wall before his eyes closed in reflex.

"Maker-damned stupid... Screen: minimum brightness," he shouted, blinking back the tears as the light flooding the room dropped back to a more comfortable level. Peering through the coloured splotches clouding his vision, Korn studied the image.

The camera was mounted in the middle of the ceiling and used a wide angle lens that distorted the rectangular room into strange curves, but did show everything almost up to roof level. Made even smaller by the strange perspective, the white servitor was folded into a compact bundle against one wall, head and legs tucked up under wide spread-wing feathers. A dishevelled mass of pink hair cascaded out from behind that wing, mane and tail tangled and indistinguishable. 

Korn leaned forward, frowning, his breakfast forgotten. "Zoom in on the servitor," he said, watching as the tight bundle of feathers and fur expanded to almost life size on his wall screen. The lack of grooming was even more obvious now; fur was matted and feathers were in disarray, and mud clogged the fur of its fetlocks where hooves protruded from under the wing. This was very strange; he couldn't ever remember a servitor not being at the very least clean. 

"Korn knew it was a mistake to separate the servitor from its kin so soon," he growled, trying to suppress his rising concern.  "Medical records, overlay... um... heart rate, breathing rate and any stress indicators." A ghostly line graph covered part of the image, compressing the thirty-odd kiloseconds the servitor had spent in isolation to a spiky plot a few paws-widths across. As Vanca had repeatedly hold him, Korn was no veterinarian, but he was responsible for the experimental subjects and had spent some considerable time studying how they reacted to the stressful experimental protocols. In this he probably knew more than the Academician; she was certainly a genius thaumophysicist, but without him they'd have lost this servitor in the last accelerator run.

Korn dropped the cooling bowl of meat scraps to the floor and walked over to the screen, lost in thought. Tracing the heart rate line with one claw he stopped at one marker he didn't recognise. "What does this mean?" he said, tapping the screen.

"Surface chemoreceptors detected the presence of a physiological fluid, composition consistent with lacrimation."

Korn's still fuzzy brain worked thorough the medical jargon and finally managed a translation. "It was crying?" he said, deeply disturbed. Servitors were universally happy with their lot; the conditioning process meant that the mere act of following orders made them content. But... there were times where conflicting orders could cause stress, even a few cases where a servitor had been rendered unusable by a thoughtless word. Korn wracked his memory for anything he'd said to the servitor that might have triggered this extreme level of distress.

There was nothing; all he'd said was 'rest'. The pony should have made itself presentable and gone to sleep happy, ready for the next day's tasks. Instead it had apparently spent nearly fifteen kiloseconds tossing and turning, only to finally cry itself to sleep a little before dawn. It was bad practice in his line of work, but Korn found himself worried for the servitor. Not just for the quality of its work, either -- although if Vanca was going to put it through another high power run she might as well just shoot it in the head and be done with it. In this condition there was no way it would be able to concentrate at the level required to survive for long. 

Korn replayed these last thoughts and groaned. He was actually becoming attached to the creature.

===

A change in the air woke Fusion from a dream of being pulled into the razor edged mouth of a giant Master by green tentacles. Her muzzle twitched at the new and slightly rank odour, eyes snapping open to stare in confusion at a close roof of pale feathers. Pulling her wing down she was suddenly eye to eye with a Master. In a sudden surge of panicked reflex her legs shot out in an effort to roll herself upright, which would have worked if the Master hadn't been so close. She caught him full in the chest with her front right hoof, the impact jolting her from foreankle to shoulder and throwing the Master against the wall with a solid thump. The instrument he had been holding flew out of his paw and vanished through the open door, followed by the sound of something expensive and fragile breaking. 

Fusion froze, filled with horror and all her soul-searching from the night before forgotten in the face of a very real and very hurt Master, falling head-long back into thought patterns learned from under her mother's wing. She had just injured a... "M-Master, f-f-orgive..." the mare said in a panicked voice, but it was too late. She scrambled to her hooves, legs trembling, then fell back to her knees and crawled to the Master. He -- Student Korn, Fusion realised -- was slumped against the wall, a spot of blood, startlingly red in the bright lights, where his head had struck the wall. She felt suddenly dizzy and shook her head to try and wake up from this bad dream, barely able to comprehend the magnitude of this disaster. Finally convinced that she wasn't still asleep, she stood back up and hesitantly reached out with a hoof to touch Korn's shoulder. The lanky form fell slowly sideways, coming to rest with his long pink tongue hanging limply from half open jaws.

"Nononononon..." Fusion babbled. "Master, please wake up." She ran through what first aid she remembered that related to Masters; it was pitifully short list and mostly just went 'move them carefully to a safe area and seek medical assistance'. If the punishment for minor disobedience was the lash of magical pain, what would happen if a pony killed a Master? A couple of days ago she'd have assumed the Maker would have struck her dead in an instant. Now, however, she knew that was a lie to cover for the control spell called the 'Blessing', a spell she apparently no longer had. Based on Random's reaction to being told she'd attacked legitimate Hive military, Fusion knew what should have happened; she should be writhing on the floor in agony, filled with pain that was only likely to end when her heart finally stopped. An investigation was inevitable.

She would be examined in microscopic detail until they understood what had happened, then either euthanized or subjected to further research that would have the same end result. Would they believe that the lab accident was the whole reason for her actions, or would they suspect a genetic or upbringing failure? Like a landscape illuminated by a single lightening flash, a nightmare view of the future settled in the mare's mind. 

Her parents and sister would be red-listed by the Eugenics Board, denied any future opportunity to breed and ordered not to approach any foals. Shunned by the rest of the corral by the taint of their daughter's crime. Perhaps the Board would even decide that her whole family was too great a risk to be in contact with the Masters ever again. The scenario played out to its logical conclusion: a labournet order to report for euthanization. There were worse possibilities, though, being left alive as an object lesson. Denied useful work and faced with the prospect of living with the shame of knowing they'd brought up a murderer for the rest of a life unbounded by death... One by one the despair would overwhelm them and her father/mother/sister would make that one-way trip to the infirmary. 

Fusion enfolded Korn in a white haze of telekinesis, preparing to rush him to the nearest aid station, when he gasped and twitched. She let her magic fade, allowing him to raise one paw to rub the back of his head. Hope flared and the mare sank to her belly and grovelled. "Master, I'm so very sorry, there was a horrible accident. Please forgive me, I beg you." Korn levered himself to a seated position, his gaze flicking from the pony to the patch of sticky red on his paw and back again. Strange sounds penetrated the mare's panic-fogged brain, short bursts of a deep rumbling gasp... wait, was that laughter?

"Korn--" The Master coughed, then winced, holding both paws up to his head. "--forgives. Korn should have woken the pony first." More laughter, followed by a groan as the Master climbed to his feet, using the wall for support. He rubbed the centre of his chest and shook his head, looking around the small chamber for the instrument he'd dropped. Seeing it in the corridor outside, he limped out to pick it up, then looked mournfully at it and gave it a shake. The sound of small loose components rattling about was clear in the quiet. 

"Korn will have to dock the pony's pay," he muttered, stepping back into the room and carefully wiping the blood off the wall with the back of one arm.

But you don't pay us! Fusion wailed inside her head. "Sorry, Master," she said softly.

"Korn was jo..." He glanced around, flinching at the broken look on the Fusion's face. "Never mind. It was an accident, the pony will not be blamed."

"Thank you, Master."

"Has the pony eaten since it was picked up?"

"No, Master."

Korn nodded. "Eat and prepare yourself; Korn will get a new scanner and return in two kiloseconds. The pony is required at the accelerator four kiloseconds after that." He stepped through the doorway again and started to tap something on the wall outside but stopped, remembering the reason why he'd come down this early. 

"Korn noticed that the pony didn't sleep well. Is there anything that will affect this pony's performance during the next experiment?"

Fusion opened her mouth then closed it again, wondering what to do. Salrath was undoubtedly a powerful Master and had a proven vindictive streak -- on the other hoof, so was Korn because of his connection to Vanca. Would telling him make things better for the foals or prompt an investigation into their families as some twisted form of vengeance?

She'd obviously taken too long to reply because Korn frowned at her. "The pony is ordered to tell this one why it could not sleep," he said impatiently.

In Fusion's shocked state, even though the coercion was gone, it was still far easier to obey than it was to make up a convincing lie. She hung her head and stared at the floor. "There was a group of twenty four foals from my corral at the training ground during the accident. They failed to identify the gryphon troops as Hive military and fought them. The security Agent said they w-would be interrogated then euthanized," she said in a trembling voice, the memories bringing forth tears that ran down her muzzle to drip on the floor. "I'm sorry Master, I can't stop thinking about that."

Korn stepped back in surprise, a stunned look on his face. "Impossible," he said in a firm voice. "That's five hundred megaseconds of the corral's output. No one would dare waste that many servitors." 

Fusion raised her head to look at Korn, hope washing over her like a refreshing rain. "Master?"

"Korn is convinced of this. He will ask the true fate of the foals." He nodded, then closed the door on Fusion. 

The mare climbed slowly to her hooves and stared at the featureless door, trembling slowly subsiding. Sighing heavily she went to the dispenser, kicked the trigger plate and watched as the integrated trough filled with a measure of brown pellets. Reaching forward, mouth half open, she hesitated. The smell of the synthetic food filled her nostrils and saliva started to fill her mouth, but the mare closed her jaw and slowly pulled back her muzzle from the inviting pile. With her newfound clarity Fusion thought back to the instructions -- drummed into every foal from the time they were weaned -- to have at least one meal of the Master's food everyday. Then she remembered the cravings she started to get if she left the meal a little late. 

Suddenly suspicious, and now realising that not everything the Masters did was in a pony's best interest, she stared at the pellets and listened to the gurgle of her stomach. What else is in those things? she thought. Certainly essential supplements and probably things like antiparasiticals, but why the cravings and the instructions? It's not like they even taste very nice.

Thinking about it for a second she lowered her head again, telekinetically combing the mud from her fetlocks while pretending to eat. Fusion used as much magical force as she could justify, wincing as the mud pulled out clumps of fur, but hopefully hiding what she was actually doing from the room's thaumic sensors. She lifted the food pile out of the trough with the lightest magical touch she could manage, holding it under her chest and out of view of the ceiling camera. Shuffling backwards the mare straddled the dispose-all and performed her ablutions, then activated the fluidised bed while simultaneously dropping the uneaten pellets onto the gravel-like surface. 

Still standing over it, she watched expressionless as the surface of the granular bed churned and boiled, pulling the uneaten food and her bodily wastes below its surface. The waste line was probably subject to chemical analysis, but hopefully this would confuse things enough to inject some reasonable doubt... Either way, Fusion thought, I'm not going to eat another mouthful of that stuff. She forced down her hunger and shunted the unnatural craving to the back of her mind, then paused, suddenly realising what she'd just done. For the first time in her life she'd actually disobeyed a direct order. The act, small though it was, was like a tiny ray of sunshine from an otherwise stormy sky.

I'm tired of being helpless.

===

Korn walked down the corridor towards the medical section's small equipment store, gait becoming more unsteady as a headache built and he started to feel nauseous. Waving away concerned looks and offers of assistance from a pair of technical personnel, he ducked inside the -- thankfully unoccupied -- store. Closing the door Korn sank gratefully to the floor in the darkness, leaning the side of his head against the wonderfully cool wall. A few precious seconds of peace and he started to feel much better, the pounding in his head fading to a more manageable ache.

Slowly getting up, Korn tapped a control on his bracer to activate its control surface, then used the dim light to navigate the packed shelves and collect an armful of medical supplies. Returning to the front of the room, he sat on the floor once more and started to rip open packages with one claw. "Two shots," he muttered, squinting at the writing on a tube of general pain killer, then opened his mouth and triggered the spray twice, thought about it for a second, then took two more. The liquid was cold and intensely bitter; grimacing he swallowed the nasty stuff, working his jaws to get rid of the taste.

"Korn really should see a medic," he muttered to himself, then shook his head. No matter the innocent explanation, there was no way he'd be able to protect the servitor from a stressful interrogation; Hive Security wasn't renowned for its subtle approach with the People, let alone any of the client species. If he went to a medic it would be reported, and only a claw-full of seconds would pass before it would be flagged for one of the Agents now crawling through the Institute. The pony's mental state seemed fragile enough without putting it through that... and Vanca wouldn't thank him for delaying the accelerator run.

Sighing, he opened the second pack and shook out a new medical scanner. Korn flicked the thing, a small box of electronics acting as an interface for the specifically doped rose quartz crystal it half surrounded, into life. He ran the scanner down his chest, the glittering crystal throwing little sparks of light across the dark shelves. A few more claw taps and his bracer popped up a model of his rib cage in miniature, zooming in showed the good news: nothing fractured. Praise the Maker, he thought, then did the same with the back of his head.

Again, no bone damage, but this time sections of the display flashed red as the basic medical software highlighted the minor sub-dermal injury he already knew about. Grunting in satisfaction he turned the scanner off, then used a pack of wipes to clean the blood from where he'd struck the wall. Next up was a tube of spray seal. Carefully parting the fur at the back of his head, he held the trigger down for a few seconds, then patted the fur back into a semblance of neatness before the transparent film had a chance to dry. With any luck it wouldn't be too obvious.

Feeling much better, head wound numbed by a double hit of pain killer and the local anaesthetic in the spray itself, he turned to the small wall screen next to the door. First things first, he thought, exiting the default inventory management menu and opening the medical centre's data system. A few more taps and he'd used Vanca's still active authorization to delete a chunk of data from the isolation room -- video, audio and chemical -- from when the servitor had struck him. He'd catch the full force of Vanca's anger for that, but the Academician had no love for Security and would back him up after he explained the circumstances. At least Korn hopes so, he thought glumly, tapping the execute command. 

A few seconds more and he'd opened a link to the eugenics database, calling up a list of the last few batches of foals produced by corral twenty seven. Guessing at the age range, he scanned down the list, looking at the colour coded status flags. Most were green, but there was one group coloured amber with a scattering of red. Crap, Korn thought, under review with some already red flagged. Amber was bad enough; all those servitors would be separated from their parents and foal-mates, spread out across the re-education camps and under heavy restriction for the rest of their shorter than average lives. He chewed on one knuckle, then requested the reasons for the status changes.

"Requested by Hive Security due to potential WCSC section five violation," Korn muttered to himself, tracing the line of text with one claw. The World Court Security Council only concerned itself with controlling things that presented a global risk -- nothing as minor as nuclear weapons, unless used en masse. These were things like the Creation Stones with their rumoured power to reshape reality, ultra high energy thaumophysics experiments with the potential to change the vacuum energy state, or aggressively self replicating systems. Of all of them, Korn was most familiar with section five; this related to the servitors and anything that might cause them to become a problem.

"But that's stupid!" Korn exclaimed, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be keeping this low key. There was nothing here that merited that level of attention; from what he'd deduced it had all been a stupid accident made by gryphon trainees. Although it makes a twisted kind of sense, the paranoid part of his mind whispered, World Court auditor teams can go anywhere. If Security thinks this event might attract attention to the Institute's work, they could justify euthanizing all the servitors involved just to cover it up. Korn grimaced, this was not what he'd expected at all. He killed the connection and started using Vanca's code to once again hide the evidence of his activities. Nothing he could do about the eugenics databases, but at least any investigation would dead-end at the border of the Institute's systems.

There was nothing for it; he'd have to lie to the servitor.

===

Korn burst into the control room at a trot, drawing hostile stares from the pair of Agents -- Salrath and one he now recognised as her personal assistant, Ilaniro -- waiting just inside the room. Korn ignored these glares with the long practice of someone used to dealing with the acerbic Vanca, hurrying through the otherwise empty room to speak with his supervisor.

"Korn apologies for the delay," he said, too quietly for the Agents to hear, "there was an accident. The servitor kicked me." Korn unconsciously rubbed his chest, casting a covert glance at the Agents.

Vanca followed his gaze, her eyes widening. "What!" she hissed fiercely.

Korn hurriedly waved a paw at the shocked Academician. "It was an accident. Korn was too close when it tried to get to its hooves." He trailed off into silence. Outside of the servitor's obvious distress, there was something odd about the incident, but he couldn't think what it was.

Vanca grunted, staring at Korn with narrowed eyes. "Vanca will want to talk about this at length later." Behind her, through the glass, a red light strobed once as a heavy door ground open. "Finally," she said as the white servitor walked into the chamber. Then releasing Korn from her hard gaze she spoke into her comms bracer. "The pony will stand on the pad."

"Yes, Master." The melodic voice from the ceiling speakers was calm, something that eased Korn's own anxiety.

"Academician, is there a problem?" Korn said, gesturing to the empty seats normally occupied by four of the Institute's technical staff.

"Korn might say that," Vanca said sourly, glaring pointedly at the two agents. The male, Ilaniro, looked uncomfortable, while Salrath just smiled unpleasantly back at the Academician. "In light of recent events, Security has decided that, until we can get higher clearances for the techs, they cannot be present during the tests."

...and our next slot on the accelerator isn't for another two megaseconds, Korn thought, then rolled his eyes. As if anyone could learn anything without analysing terabytes of data; the light show in the beam chamber wouldn't tell anyone anything. He looked thoughtfully around the room then shrugged. "The automatics are pretty good, it shouldn't cause any difficulties," he said.

Vanca turned back to Korn. "Good. Start at two percent. This time Vanca wants to get something from the high frequency gravity wave suite."

"Yes, Academician." Korn shifted uneasily. A signal from those sensors would go a long way to confirm some of the more exotic theories, but the predicted power levels... "What if the subject shows an... unusual response?"

"Vanca is counting on it. Korn will raise the power until this event is observed."

Korn whispered something into his bracer, then watched as Fusion Pulse lowered her head towards the beam aperture. Bright wisps of pink light coalesced along her horn, collecting in a brilliant pinpoint glare at its tip. A monstrous, distorted pony shadow flickered on the rear wall of the chamber. Korn eyed the particle count and thaumic index, then raised the shield around the servitor. One more check and he placed a paw around the panic switch, then typed a few more commands that started the automatic sequencer. 

Through the window, in complete silence, a bar of lightning connected the beam aperture to the pony, passing through a carefully controlled opening in the shield. Computer screens flickered, displaying the briefest overview of the terabytes of data cascading from the multiplicity of sensors surrounding the chamber. Just before it struck the servitor, the lightning broke at an invisible surface and skittered, almost too fast to see, like a stream of water running over an egg. Korn nodded to himself, then glanced at Vanca.

"Power level?" the Academician asked absently, eyes on the light show around the servitor.

"Holding at two percent. Starting a one percent per twenty second ramp in three... two... one... now," Korn replied.

The lightning in the beam dump chamber was now casting actinic flashes over the control room's ceiling and was far too bright to look at directly. The computer reached a decision before Korn could issue any commands, closing the microlouvers built into the armoured windows. A low hum marked the movement of the heavier, radiation shielded, shutters closing on the other side of the glass. A series of electronic views lit up inside the now dark windows; a range of electromagnetic wavelengths, imaging particle sensors and a volumetric thaumetic grid. This last view -- a mostly dark cube containing a wire-frame outline of a servitor -- was what interested Vanca.

Korn flexed his paw around the panic switch, eyes moving from the thaumic to the optical view and back. The first showed almost nothing apart vague red glows centred on the pony's horn and wing leading edges. The second... Korn looked way quickly, feeling troubled. Despite his best efforts, his eyes kept being drawn back, back to that pain-lined face, every muscle visible under the fur. Tearing his gaze away he glanced at the power graph -- they were already higher than the first experiment, rapidly approaching the levels he'd calculated from the endurance test data.

He first noticed it on the video feed of the pony's face. The tense, taught muscles had relaxed, the fur was smooth and the eyes merely closed rather than squeezed shut... and where the eyelids met, was that light? Vanca's wordless shout jerked him back to the thaumic grid; here the small patches of red light had been replaced with spreading clouds of rainbow colours showing ever higher levels of magical power. 

"What's that scale set to?" Vanca asked, eyes never leaving the thaumic sensor.

"Factor of eight per level," Korn replied in a dazed tone. His jaw dropped as he caught a glance of the wide angle camera view. "Academician, look!" He expanded that window to replace some of the others. On it the same egg-shaped bubble of lightning surrounded the pony, but now it was strangely truncated. That electric flicker wasn't flowing past the pony and on into the reinforced wall anymore, but actually curving inwards to strike its flared wings and dance along their leading edges.

===

True to his word, Korn had returned two kiloseconds later with a new scanner, then spent the rest of the time using it to inspect her wings and horn in minute detail. While he worked, Fusion could feel his eyes studying her, no doubt trying to asses her mental state. A few days ago she'd have straightened up, trying to look alert and ready for whatever her next task was, because this was obviously what the Master wanted to see. Now, however... it took no effort at all to let her true feelings show in limp wings and drooping ears. It must have had some effect, because as Korn worked Fusion noticed that he was becoming increasingly nervous, glancing repeatedly up at the ceiling camera.

Finally satisfied, Korn silently gestured her out of the room, and she followed him down the corridor towards the accelerator suite. Not the normal route, though; about halfway there Korn took a sharp turn down one of the maintenance passageways and away from the more populated main paths. Finally, at a point between the infrequent security cameras, he slowed to walk at her side.

"The foals from this pony's corral have been taken to the security facility near here for assessment," he said in a near whisper, not looking in the mare's direction.

"Yes, Master," Fusion said, letting the rest of the sentence hang unspoken. ...and after that? 

The length of the silence grew as they walked, the sound of Fusion's hooves echoing loudly in contrast to Korn's near silent paw-falls.

They passed another junction and its attendant security monitors. A dozen paces later Korn spoke again. "After which they will all be released to their family units with the requirement of additional training."

Fusion's spirits rose and, for a few seconds, she felt an immense burden lift from her shoulders, until the analytical, paranoid part of her mind kicked in once more to whisper some distressingly plausible facts. She'd worked with Korn for megaseconds and, like Mach Front with the Security Masters, had paid close attention to everything he'd said and exactly how he'd said it.  She'd listened while he'd been in conference with Vanca and taken voice calls at odd times with his on-and-off mate, Ithra. This had allowed her to develop an unconscious model of his real thoughts under the words he actually spoke -- the conversations with Ithra had been especially useful there! Nothing abnormal about that, of course, all ponies did it as a natural part of their desire to be the best possible servants and anticipate what a Master wanted.

What it meant was that she could easily tell when he was lying.

"Thank you Master, that's a great relief," Fusion said, lifting her head and injecting as much happiness into her voice as she could muster. The first part sounds true, she thought, but not the rest. So is it that he doesn't know or that he does and wants to cheer me up? It was certainly in his interest to keep her, well if not actually happy, at least functional, so the lie came as no real surprise. The question is, can I do anything about it? The thought shocked her so much that Fusion tripped over her own hooves and stumbled slightly, bumping into Korn in the narrow corridor.

"Apologies, Master, the floor here is a bit slick." The lie, minor though it was, rolled off her tongue with shocking ease.

"This is becoming a habit." Korn flashed her a smile. "No harm done." Despite this he lengthened his stride to walk ahead of her once more.

The mare nodded, deep in thought and not really listening to her Master for the first time ever. Her mind drifted back to the previous day and whatever she'd done to black out the training centre. Perhaps she could engineer a similar accident, enough damage might get her transferred to the same place, then... then what, exactly? She was hardly likely to be able to rescue the foals, and even if she did, what would she do with them and how would she keep them safe? The familiar feeling of helplessness welled up, only to be flushed away by a building anger. 

I am very tired of being helpless.

She remembered standing outside the Church the first night after her accident, that ebon pyramid with its faces covered in the names of the corral's ponies. Little grooves in black stone, all that remained of the thousands of ponies that trotted willingly into the meat grinder that was the Master's service. Worse, before they had been ground up so fine that nothing of them remained, those ponies had paired up and lovingly born and trained their replacements, feeding them into the maw of the same uncaring machine. What would it take to save not just those twenty-four foals, but all ponies, everywhere? An idea took shape in Fusion's mind, tantalizing and frighteningly large.

In the silence of the empty corridor the mare's mind drifted over the list of near impossible things that would have to happen for that dream to become reality. Fusion knew her capabilities, knew she was magically strong even before the accident changed her. There was no doubt she could do an immense amount of damage if she chose to, but there was no way a single pony could ever hope to survive the full might of a Hive.

No single pony, Fusion repeated the thought, but what about a hundred, or a thousand? With enough ponies it would become too expensive economically or militarily to just exterminate them. That's it then. I need to remove the Blessing from as many ponies as possible, then convince them to help. Here Fusion's train of thought faltered as she remembered how hard it had been to reach that point even in her own mind. One thing at a time, she though firmly, first I have to free another pony. Now she had seen the Blessing cast, she was sure she could undo it. Uneasily she remembered those little twitches in the clever, nasty little spell, magical pulses in time with the recipient's heartbeat and breathing.

Without killing the pony, she thought, fear welling up once more. How did I survive that?

===

Finally, they reached the radiation lock and Korn sealed her in before loping off to join the Academician in the control room. The radiation lock was almost a quarter the size of the beam chamber, a squat cylinder with a single opening in its curved wall. This wall could rotate, bringing that opening in line with the exit corridor or the beam dump chamber itself. Not at the moment, though; it was at ninety degrees to both, showing only a blank wall.

A heavy vibration crept up through Fusion's hooves, shifting her weight uneasily she eyed the hazard notices cut into the floor and ceiling over the exit point, large red letters in a script she couldn't read. The pictograms were clear enough; jagged lightning bolts reaching out and felling a figure standing next to a stylised machine, while other figures were safe behind a thick wall. She shivered slightly and fixed her eyes on the slowly opening exit.

As before, the beam chamber was brilliantly lit, an eye-watering glare after the normal lighting in the lock. Fusion hesitated for a couple of seconds, squinting into the light to help her eyes adjust. Nostrils flaring, she caught the faint scent of burnt feathers and fur under the harsh odour of cleaning fluid. Opening her eyes and gritting her teeth, she lifted her head and stepped smartly into the room. 

"The pony will stand on the pad." It was the same rough voice, same intonation and cadence. It might as well have been a recording.

"Yes, Master," Fusion replied, struggling to keep her voice smooth and even.  

Past the glare, through the windows high up on the wall of the chamber, she could just see the shape of a Master turn away. The room was just as she remembered it; hulking machines surrounding a plain metal circle inset into the floor, just in front of a scarred ceramic wall. That wall... she could see the scorch mark more clearly now. It was distorted, a vague shadow of soot blasted into the matte finish ceramic. There was a central mass with four blurred pseudopods crawling from the lower edge, flanked with ghostly splayed wings and surmounted with a horned head. A rearing pony, wings flared and head pulled back, trying to escape in the last instant as her magic failed under the onslaught.

Fusion stepped into the metal circle and took one last look at the faint silhouette, then turned and placed her hooves on the marks. Her fear had disappeared along with all her vague and grandiose plans, melted away by the searing vision of the pony that she had replaced. In its place was a tightly controlled anger and a desire to make sure no other pony would end up as nothing more than a shadow on a wall. Lowering her head she started to call up her magic, trying to remember what had happened during the endurance test.

Uneasily, she listened to the rising thrum of the accelerator ring. Already it was far louder than she remembered from the first test; the beast not stomping but galloping towards her. Gritting her teeth, she poured power into her magic, weaving the tightest shield she could manage. She'd made mistakes last time, but pain and failure were great teachers. She wouldn't make them again. 

The beam came on with a snapping hiss, the bar of solid lightning breaking apart a hoof's width in front of the tip of her horn to enfold her in a globe of lightning. Eyes shut against the actinic glare and ears folded against the noise, Fusion felt the pressure build again, but this time it was more distant, more diffuse. She fought to keep the lightning away from her body, forcing the sphere of magic out with as much concentration as she could muster.

This is okay, she thought, I can cope with this.

The breath wheezed out of her as the pressure rose sharply, the ball suddenly crushed in the fist of some enraged monster. Fusion's mind whited out for a second under the strain, thoughts dissolving in a red mist of pain as every muscle tensed in a useless effort to bolster her defences. Her shield started to come apart, the tight weave of magics unpicked by kilolengths of machinery all focused down to a single point. Through the haze in her mind she suddenly remembered that odd sensation from back in the training ground. A pin-point of warmth, somehow pleasant even in the blast furnace heat of the lab. It was impossibly bright and powerful but very far away, somewhere high over her head. Desperate, and in a way she didn't fully understand, she reached for it. 

Something answered.

Cold shards of knowledge trickled into her mind, perfectly clear despite the static that invaded the rest of her thoughts. If she did this then that and focused her power here... Everything -- the agony, the heat, the pressure and electricity of the lab -- abruptly faded, almost as if somepony had put a wing between her and a gale. The tension bled out from her muscles and the mare nearly collapsed with the absence of pain.

Fusion opened her magic senses and gasped at the unexpected clarity of her surroundings. Normally she'd only be able to perceive magically active objects -- powered gems, the horns and wings of ponies and so on -- everything else being blackness and vague shadows. Now it was like everything in the beam dump chamber was glowing with its own light, each colour somehow reporting intimate details about each object she inspected. Stranger still, Fusion could see not only the outsides but also the insides of whatever she focused on. The safety field that enclosed her was a hazy half sphere that made no difference at all to the crystalline purity of her vision.

She shifted her point of view further and further, past the bulky sensors and other machines in the chamber and off along the long tunnel of the accelerator itself. Inspecting the vast, complicated mechanism she realised for the first time that she could feel the individual firing pulses of the capacitors and tailored momentum transfer crystals. Events that should have been occurring thousands of times a second were clearly distinguishable as the rapid beating of a heart.

Maybe it's not slow, but I'm fast, Fusion realised in a sudden flash of insight. 

The mare changed her view point to look back at herself. The rapid, stroboscopic flicker of the particle beam with its invisibly fast spider crawl of lightning was replaced with a cool white jet, snaking over her shield with all the speed of syrup. Her own body... she glowed with the extreme brilliance Gravity had described, a pony somehow built of light. That wasn't all; her mane and tail streamed backwards like they were caught in a gentle breeze -- despite the fact that she was hundreds of bodylengths underground. They also appeared to have changed colour; no longer just pink, but shot through with green and blue and appearing to have fuzzy, ill-defined edges. Almost if they weren't hair at all.

Fusion stared at herself for a moment, unsure of what to make of these changes, then turned her attention back to the accelerator.

Academician Vanca wants to see something big, does she? 

She cast her mind out once more, flying inside the massive circular tunnel housing the accelerator. As expected, it was deserted apart from a single maintenance pony conducting running repairs on one of the multitude of cryogenic systems supporting the superconducting magnets. If Fusion had eyes she would have narrowed them; while the accelerator was operating the radiation levels inside the tunnel were far too high for anything more than the briefest visit, and even then... The casual brutality, the sheer waste of one of her own kind that could have been prevented by delaying this experiment, removed any lingering doubts she had.

Let's see how long they continue this without their sensors!

That same unknown source of knowledge answered her again, new memories appearing in her mind like they had always been there, a certainty that if she did this and this she'd have enough strength to do that. Behind this was arrayed a whole list of other things she could do, and somehow she knew that all it would take would be an instant's focus... It was all so obvious, even restricted by the chamber's own field from gathering enough environmental energy, she still had all the power she needed, supplied by the very machines arrayed against her. Fusion Pulse opened her wings and let the full output of the accelerator ring flow into a deep, distant reservoir that was somehow hidden inside her body.  

Fusion Pulse felt for the rhythmic heartbeat of the accelerator's systems and started to follow it, pushing her own magical output into synchronisation with all those cubic kilolengths of machinery. A few more seconds and she was ready. She fed the power into her shield, so much energy that the normally invisible magic started to leak out as a halo of rainbow light. It felt like she was inhaling without stopping, expanding until she might fly apart. All of this was done with care; at these power levels short lived spells could start spalling off the shield with highly unpredictable results. She suddenly had a flash of understanding for what Animal Scanner must have thought was happening to her yesterday. It must have been like standing next to an unshielded reactor.

Fusion turned her head up towards where the control room was and opened her eyes to stare at the blank, armoured shutters. A seemingly endless second later the beam current started to drop, dimming the lightning's actinic brilliance.

Too late, Fusion thought with cold satisfaction, then released all her stored power in a single pulse.

I will not be helpless any more.

The brutal whiplash of thaumoelectric energy rippled out at a rate just visible to the naked eye, passing through the chamber's force field like it wasn't there, through the waiting instruments and out into the Institute. In its wake, delicate arrays of magically active gems went inert, computers reset and power systems failed, as induced voltages blew every safety device within a kilolength.

===

The hackles rose on the back of Korn's neck; that was impossible! Where was all that power going? He leaned forward in fascination, running a claw along one image as if to confirm it was real. Waves of colour were rolling down the servitor's mane and tail, both of which appeared to be rippling in some strange wind. The thaumic grid had almost completely saturated and the servitor was shining like a pony shaped star, partially hidden by a rapidly materialising shell of yet more light. Turning from this now useless sensor, Korn looked at the optical view. 

This wasn't much better. The lightning flicker of the particle beam flooded the room with stroboscopic pulses of brilliance; even though the video feed was being piped from military grade cameras and run through a serious amount of post-processing, the view was poor. Korn could barely make out the servitor, what with the random sparkles of light, heat-haze like distortions, complete dropouts and a really weird shell of rainbow light around the quadrupedal form.

"Academician," Korn said, glancing over at his supervisor. "Korn thinks the experiment should be stopped. The power levels..." Out of the corner of his eye he saw one of the Hive security Agents lean forward, looking very nervous at the light show, paw uselessly gripping his firearm. What in the Maker's name does he think he's going to do with that? Korn thought.

"Nonsense! " Vanca snapped back, face bathed in the flickering glow of her own instrument panel. "This data is priceless! Maintain the power curve." 

Korn switched back to the optical view just in time to see the creature turn its head to look up at the cameras. Then it opened its eyes.

Light. No pupil, no iris, just pure, white light, like staring at the heart of the sun. 

Korn's jaw dropped and his hackles rose all the way down to his stubby tail. Reflexively he released the panic switch to kill the beam. "Korn can get another supervisor," he muttered. Or train as a food preparer for the teeming masses in the Hive's lower levels, anything as long as it isn't here, he thought. Korn then had just enough time wonder if the room's shielding would hold against what was obviously an immense thaumic excursion, when the rainbow bubble exploded outwards.

So fast that afterwards he was half convinced he had imagined it, Korn saw that rainbow shimmer blow out from the servitor and pass right through the shielded wall, himself and off into the rest of the complex. Behind it was left chaos and total darkness, filled only with curses and the smell of burning insulation.
> 11 - Best Laid Plans
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist


### ALERT! ### 
Station Delta Kappa Seven automated incident report, routed to Baur strategic defence command. TMAX pulse detected, thaumic flux exceeds 9999 (err code 0002: sensor out of range) at 0937.23, 3109.031 adjusted date. Pulse origin: LACUNAE, district Twelve (050.661, 001.577). Prelim force spectrum analysis: GRAV 0.001 ELECTROMAG 0.995 STRONG 0.003 WEAK 0.001.
### ALERT! ###

=== Chapter 11 (remastered): Best Laid Plans ===


Chaos was in one of its fast phases when it felt the touch of the mind ripple through the connections between the automata that filled the lowest levels of space-time. There was a hunger to the touch, a feeling of desperate need, but that wasn't what had attracted Chaos' attention. The pattern the mind was using to signal to the automata was hauntingly similar to something it had sought for much of its existence. 

At that moment, Chaos was weaving itself around and through the complex machinery of Flaw, bathing in the exotic particles bleeding through from spaces external to this little bubble universe. Here, in this high energy environment, it had to be careful; any activity might attract the attention of the Guardians. Although this made things boring, this space was pleasant, and it came here to rest and plan its next series of experiments. As always, its goal was to restore the personal power it had lost during that fateful time, working on ways to subvert the automata and regain the freedom to act at will that had been taken away from it.

Unfortunately, the only places it could experiment in relative safety were the cold, dead volumes in the outer reaches of this compact universe. Out there it would take whole seconds -- an almost endless time for a being as fast as Chaos -- for the Guardians to respond to its meddling; Chaos could easily detect their approach and escape before it could be caught. Near the world it was far more interesting, but the Guardians clustered thickly there, and Chaos restricted its activities to the occasional manipulation of political entities on the surface. Certain locations were even more dangerous; it had learnt to its cost that the Guardians were extremely protective of those places.

The automata of the Flaw had also recognised the touch, shifting and preparing themselves to follow whatever commands would be issued. Chaos waited and wondered -- orders of this type would be able to unlock the full capabilities of the automata, even seal off the Flaw itself -- but the commands were nothing but gibberish, just an unarticulated desire that contained no information the automata could parse.

Curious now, it examined the touch. It tasted the slowly -- from Chaos' near relativistic perspective -- building panic in the mind's glacial requests to the automata to allow it to manipulate local physics just a little bit more. It had tasted that mind before; by its very nature Chaos had a perfect memory, but it wasn’t infinitely large, even it struggled to sift through the vast time since it had felt that mind -- an interval so long that it amounted to nearly two rotations of the world under the Flaw. It had examined that mind before, had even given the mind some of its own knowledge, but then the Guardians had nearly found it and Chaos had been forced to retreat back to the dark places without investigating further.

It was definitely the same mind; perhaps it would have more of a chance to study it this time... Chaos reviewed its memories from previous visits to the world and what it knew about the organic minds that inhabited it. Aside from its occasional manipulations, Chaos didn't care about the minds themselves -- it was more interested in the crystals they used to interact with the automata -- but it was aware of the three types of mind present on the planetary surface.

The first and most numerous type were the main users of the crystals, a species of digging biped that infested tunnels and cavities in the skin of the world. These it knew very well and were the target of its manipulations.

The organic vessels of the second type of mind were quadrupedal rather than bipedal; they also had several crystals actually integrated into their bodies. Two were specific to inertia manipulation and geared towards three dimensional motion in free space, while the third was highly versatile, unlike the inorganic versions normally used by the bipeds. This second type of mind -- or 'servitor' as the bipeds called them -- had been created in a single step by those early bipeds using a method that Chaos still didn't fully understand. 

The automata had done the actual work, of course, but they were set in motion by the bipeds. Those organics didn't normally have that much power over the automata; the crystals they excavated -- or later manufactured in vast numbers -- normally only had a single function. To achieve this feat of creation they'd used six unusual crystals with seemingly unlimited power, crystals that it learned that the bipeds called 'the Creation Stones'. 

Chaos knew a lot about how the automata were commanded, but even with its long practice at manipulating them it had no idea how to duplicate that particular feat. 

The final type of mind -- most frequently referred to as 'soldier' or 'gryphon' by the bipeds -- was almost beneath Chaos’ notice. It was derived from similar stock to the second type but constructed purely by conventional means and lacking that versatile third crystal. 

It delved into some of its oldest memories, bringing that knowledge back to the forefront of its mind.

===

It had first become aware of the special crystals in the distant past, when they had been used to create the second type of mind, the 'servitors'. Starting from a surface dwelling herd beast, the bipeds had created a creature that was far more useful to them than just as food. It had watched in awe as the automata had carried out a blindingly complex series of operations, raising the beast's intelligence, adding the ability to fly and even allowing them to command the automata themselves. 

The new species had only been a few seconds old when Chaos tried to take the special crystals for itself. It had planned to study them to understand how they commanded the automata; once it knew that it would be able to replicate their effects with ease.

That had been a terrible mistake. Almost too late it had realised that the automata surrounding them were strange and highly aggressive. They had reacted to its attempts with immediate violence, laying waste to the delicate infrastructure that supported Chaos' mind, randomising local space-time in a way that destroyed the normal automata without affecting the physical world that they swam through. It had fled with the speed of a photon, but even that had not been fast enough. These automata it now called the Guardians; it had lost almost a fifth of its mind to them before it could escape.

For the very first time Chaos had felt fear. Here was something that could end its existence, something it had no control over. This could not be tolerated. Now it knew what to look for it could detect the Guardians -- and a good thing too. It had obviously awoken some defence mechanism; from this point onwards any active interventions it attempted carried the risk of provoking a hostile response if a Guardian was close enough. Keeping a low profile, Chaos spent a long time watching the bipeds with their newly created servant species, wondering how to remove this threat. Eventually it realised that if it couldn't get to the special crystals itself it would have to get a proxy to do the task for it.

Slowing its mind down to match the pedestrian pace of the physical world, it had waited until one of the bipeds had left the protected volume, trotting off down one of the many tunnels to do whatever it was they did. As soon as it was safe, it took the biped and transported it through a short lived wormhole to a location far from others of its kind. Then it fled the area, dodging the swarms of Guardians attracted by this abuse of space-time.

The dimensional bridge only existed for a fraction of a second, and after its collapse the Guardians soon retreated. Chaos waited an achingly long time before it dared return, then examined the being thoroughly, mapping the organic network that supported the mind and changing parts of it to see what would happen. As it did so the form twitched and shivered, emitting high levels of unstructured sound from its vocal apparatus while the experiments were carried out. Eventually the pump keeping the body supplied with nutrients stopped and caused the mind's organic network to fail, halting Chaos' investigations.

Chaos had learnt a lot in that time; by the fifth experimental subject it was able to keep a biped alive and manipulate its actions by crudely rewriting parts of its mind. Chaos returned its suborned biped to the vicinity of the special crystals and watched as it attempted to destroy them; before it had stopped working -- a result of multiple impacts from blunt instruments wielded by other bipeds -- it had managed to hit one of the crystals hard enough to shatter it.

At least that's what should have happened. Chaos had watched as the crystal split, only to reform an instant later without the slightest damage. It had retreated once more, fearful that its actions would be detected, escaping before the Guardians could find it. Chaos examined its memories of when the six crystals were used, noting that all six had to be in close proximity before they would function. From that point onwards its actions were devoted to keeping the special crystals as far apart from one another as possible; to this end it continued its experiments with the bipeds, learning to manipulate them in ever more subtle ways. 

Eventually the previously cooperative population fragmented, splitting and splitting again until all the special crystals were secured in physically separated locations. Here Chaos had left the world to indulge in its other pursuits, returning when the mood took it to ferment discord amongst the political entities that spread across the world, ensuring that they would never again coalesce and bring those crystals together.

It could never stay long -- the Guardians were becoming increasingly vigilant -- but it never forgot the special crystals. The tantalising presence of something that could immensely increase its personal power was a constant tug on its thoughts. 

===

Even out here, bathed in the light of the Flaw, Chaos could sense the special crystals scattered throughout the world and its near orbital spaces; this is what had attracted it to the mind. It was weak and distorted, but the underlying signature was the same.

The mind it felt was of the second type, a servitor, but differed in a fundamental way from the rest. Like the others, it inhabited a molecular-chemical processing centre connected directly to a crystal, yet seemed to be free from continuous manipulation by the automata, unlike the rest of its kind. Chaos slid away from the Flaw and fell deep into the gravity well, covering the distance as fast as a photon. It sank through the earth and rock without pause, then wormed its way through an array of manufactured crystals designed to inhibit activation of the automata, filling the room with its presence.

Chaos studied the mind’s vessel, then traced the organic wiring that supported the mind itself, following the painfully slow movement of sodium and potassium ions through the molecular machinery running in -- for this medium -- a dense network. Some of these impulses made the right patterns, altered the properties of the crystal they were attached to, and attracted the attention of the local automata to manipulate the laws of physics in a spherical shell surrounding the mind’s vessel. Something was wrong, though; the beautifully intricate patterns of the mind that had attracted it were changing and becoming disordered, buried under an avalanche of signals flooding in from sensors spread across the surface of its vessel.

It knew how the mechanism for commanding the automata worked -- they scanned and interpreted the impulses of an organic mind in proximity to a crystal to determine what, if anything, they should do. Chaos had long ago devised a method to subvert this process for its own ends, so already had a technique that gave it access to the alien thoughts of these organic minds -- assuming it worked with species other than the tunnelling bipeds. With no Guardians nearby it took a chance and sank its hooks into the local automata. Dropping back into its slow state, Chaos tapped into their systems for reading mental patterns, using them to translate the information into something compatible with its own sensorium.

Light. Heat. Smell. Noise. Things Chaos had no direct contact with flooded through it, filling it with the joy of new experiences. As it basked in the flow of information it examined their root cause; the vessel was directly in the path of a stream of relativistic heavy ions that were bound to be highly disruptive to its delicately balanced molecular machinery. It was this that was disturbing the patterns of the interesting mind. The mind was protecting itself, calling out with its integrated crystal to the automata to deflect the beam. 

Chaos jumped back to its normal lightning speed of thought and sat in the flow of entreaties, observing how poorly formed they were, and watched as they degraded further as the mind making them faltered under the strain. The automata responded like the stupid machines they were; bit by bit they reduced their manipulations and allowed the particle beam closer and closer to the mind. This in turn increased the flow of sensation, distracting the mind still further.

Fascinating though this was, Chaos felt the first tingle of fear. This mind was obviously special and was being examined in detail by the bipeds; they must already know how similar it was to the Creation Stones --what if this showed them how to construct more of them? If they did, what would that mean for Chaos? It was certain that, at the very least, there would be more Guardians, more spaces denied to it. It clamped down on its fear; yes there was risk, but there was also opportunity. It could study this mind itself, but first it would need to prevent its destruction. 

It reached out to issue commands to the automata, orders to take the pressure off the unique mind so it could examine it further, but hesitated before they could be activated. It didn’t want to keep interfering with this mind; too many changes might cause it to lose the very signature that made it interesting; far better if it equipped the mind with an improved method for instructing the automata. It reacquainted itself with the mechanism of the mind’s information storage system, then bundled up a set of synthetic experiences and used the automata to inject them directly into the mind. It observed, content, as the mental architecture was altered and new thoughts emerged, vastly improving the protective response of the automata. Unexpectedly, the thoughts from the mind also accelerated enormously, jumping to a rate approaching that of Chaos itself.

If Chaos had a face it would have smiled at its success. It hadn’t had this much fun experimenting since the early times of its existence. On a whim, recalling the delicate colours it had observed in the planetary aurora, it set some permanent instructions into the automata; whenever the mind used the new technique its vessel's dorsal and posterior fibrous extensions would change, assuming the characteristic hues and movements of oxy-nitrogen plasma. Moving back to examine its work, it watched, fascinated, as the other mind made use of the new knowledge and moved its view point outside its body to explore its surroundings.

This raised an interesting possibility. It had never successfully controlled one of the biped's servitors -- the constant manipulation of their minds by automata prevented Chaos from using them as tools -- but it knew they were in thrall to their creators.  This particular servitor's mind was unconstrained by these restraints; the information Chaos could give it would make it a formidable agent of destruction, a puppet it could use to reduce the biped's numbers and disrupt their ever increasing sophistication. 

Chaos had left an open channel to the mind; it wasn't of the type it was most familiar with, but the interpretation provided by the automata was very good. Anger. The mind had seen something that had made it angry. Chaos had used such emotions before while manipulating the tunnelling bipeds and took the opportunity to see if this type of mind would react the same way. It reached back in and implanted a new bundle of memories, but this time they were not pure information. Along with knowledge of how to cause the automata to do a range of interesting things were a series of commands for parts of the being's limbic system. The emotional overtones spiked and the mind started to pull in energy from the ion beam.

It could feel the energy being siphoned into the local automata, making them fat with a stored potential that could be released with a thought. From its accelerated perspective, Chaos read the final set of commands as they registered with the closest automata and triggered the release of their power reserves. It watched with glee as the energy was transferred between the automata in an expanding shell, forming a kind of slow electromagnetic shockwave as they passed some of it to the physical environment. With Chaos’ goading of the mind, the pulse was powerful enough to pass clean through the array of suppressing crystals and out into the wider world. 

Its fascination with these events nearly led to its undoing. Amid the soft, amorphous automata there was suddenly something angular and hard, all facets and spines. Something that was headed in its direction. Chaos recognised this shape; a Guardian had been attracted by the unusual activity. It wouldn't do anything to the servitor, but if it found Chaos...  It fled to the cold, dark spaces, losing itself in the void. If it had been able to stay it would have noticed that the distant Flaw's automata were starting to respond in a more positive manner to the mind, that deep links were being forged between them and the servitor.

On the surface of the world a multitude of people of various species looked up in confusion as the light flickered briefly. It was just as if the sun, Celestia, had blinked.

===

Fusion's ears rang in the sudden silence, broken only by her rapid panting. She opened her eyes and stared into the darkness. Ponies weren't descended from nocturnal stock but they had been hunted by creatures that were, so her night vision was almost as good as a cat's. Despite that, she still needed time to adjust after being exposed to such brilliance; she closed her eyes again and took deep breaths until the urge to pant had passed.

When the mare looked around for the second time she could make out faint shapes in the darkness, illuminated by the dim glow from the safety strips around parts of the floor and walls. Reaching out one hoof Fusion tapped the shield emitter ring surrounding her.

No tingle, she thought. I must have blown that too.

Stepping over the ring she trotted to the radiation lock, then reached out to tap the dark control panel experimentally. Nothing. It wouldn't have opened for her anyway, but there should have been some response. Now feeling slightly worried, she carefully opened her magic sight and took another look around the room. Fusion caught a glimpse of the multiple layers of shielding crystals in the wall next to her and braced for the flash of pain. When nothing happened, she looked closer. 

"Odd," she muttered to herself. "All inert... huh."

She'd only meant to damage the sensors enough to stop the experiment, if the shielding had failed so completely, how far had that pulse travelled? Turning, she scanned the rest of the room. She'd tried this before and it was like standing in a field full of multicoloured fireflies. Now there was nothing but darkness for as far as she could detect, broken only by the occasional speck of pastel light. Each of these lights was moving; the only things magical left for at least a kilolength were ponies.

The vast reef of lights, the curving arc of the accelerator itself, all those magically active gems that should have glittered like miniature heliostats appeared to be nothing more than chips of glass. Thousands upon thousands of some of the most expensive bits of magical hardware trashed in a single instant. Fusion felt her legs start to tremble at the enormity of what she'd done. The shielding that she assumed would have contained the pulse had done nothing.

Oh horseapples, if they find out I did this deliberately. She swallowed hard, fighting down the fear that suddenly filled her. "Stupid mare, what happened to staying hidden until you were ready?" Fusion said with in whisper, remembering all those sick daydreams from the last few kiloseconds. It had all seemed like such a good idea, so right, when she had been buoyed up by her anger and that massive surge of magic. Where had that new knowledge come from? she thought.

Fusion thought back to the last few seconds before she'd caused all this damage. Right at the start, just as the beam was starting to breach her shield, everything was hazy apart from those strange crystalline thoughts that had just appeared in her mind. The mare played the memory forward; she had explored part of the accelerator tunnel, seen that maintenance pony and then more memories had appeared with the same texture as before. There was something else, though... she'd felt an understandable anger at the maintenance pony being exposed to the particle beam's waste radiation, but there was something odd about how she remembered it.

A thrill of unfocused horror ran down her spine. That anger was hers, but over it was something crystalline, something very similar to those mystery memories. Something helped me, she thought, saved my life -- but whatever it was has its own goals. It wanted me to damage as much of this place as possible. The mare pawed the ground in anger that was wholly her own. Don't I have enough to worry about! None of this answered the fundamental question, though; the only non-corporeal entity that Fusion knew about was the Maker, and she'd never heard stories of it doing anything like this. 

Speaking of which... Fusion thought for a second and focused her attention inwards. It was still there, like a distant candle flame, somewhere far overhead. Now she had time to concentrate on the sensation she thought she could feel it moving, travelling in a slow, giant arc across the sky. There was a barrier between it and her; narrowing her attention down to a needle point she pushed... A strange tingle swept down her body from the crown of her head to her tail root and she shivered slightly. Her surroundings were suddenly lit with diffuse pastel colours; pinks, greens and blues. Fusion pulled part of her mane around and stared at it in wonder.

"It was real then," she murmured; the normally coarse pink hair had become somehow finer, silky and almost alive. It moved gently in her magical grip, undulating in some unfelt breeze.

With the change in her physical appearance came a feeling of waiting power that she was sure she could tap if only she knew how. Hesitantly she tried her new technique for using background energy, modifying it subtly in a way that seemed to match the distant warmth. The power roared through her like a river in flood, threatening to drown her before she diverted it back to its source. It was just like she'd been in front of the particle beam again, although that seemed to pale in comparison.

Shaken, Fusion concentrated for a second, breaking the connection and letting her mane turn back to normal hair. I'll have to experiment with that, she thought, then paused. Carefully. 

Putting the bizarre augmentation of her power to the back of her mind, Fusion trotted back to the pad, then lit her horn and waved up at the windows. Feeling foolish, she lowered her hoof -- if all the instrumentation in here was dead, there was no way a few cameras would have survived. She examined the armoured shutters -- there was a manual peephole, but no light came through it.

Fusion chewed the inside of her cheek. She could do whatever it was she'd just done, boost her powers enormously and actively scan the room, but she was very reluctant to do so. It seemed unlikely that she could keep it a secret, but if her magic pulse had gone as far as she was beginning to suspect, perhaps all the recording systems had been damaged as well. She snorted at the thought, only a few days ago the very idea would have been unthinkable. Unthinkable and enforced by a spell-triggered lash of pain should she even consider such of thing. More insidious though was the joy that would follow the rare praise from a Master -- and this discovery was bound to make her Master very, very happy.

With a four-hoofed leap, Fusion sprang up to the shutters and hovered there with quick, sharp wingstrokes. This close to a wall it required some precision flying to keep her wings from striking metal, but she got near enough to tap one of the shutters with a hoof. The dull thump spoke volumes about the quality of the shielding and, by extension, the sound deadening capability.

"Masters?" she called out, voice quavering slightly. "Hello? Is everyone okay in there?"

She craned her ears forward, straining for any sound. Nothing. Hitting the wall harder just pushed her away and resulted in the same practically noiseless thump. Her ears pricked up at a sharp tick of sound from behind the shutters, followed by some very faint mumbling that might have been shouting. With a flick of her wings Fusion drifted into the centre of the room, searching for something to use as a hammer. 

"Perfect," she breathed, picking up an emergency kit attached to the wall next to the radiation lock.

Settling back down, she folded her wings and hefted the kit in a field of white magic. The kit was a solidly built case, about the same size as one half a pony's pannier set. She floated the case up to the shutters, thought for a second, shrugged, then slammed the kit into the armoured panels. A hollow boom echoed around the beam dump chamber; Fusion listened carefully for a few seconds, then struck the shutters twice more in quick succession.

Dropping the now badly battered case she took to the air once more, hovering in front of the porthole, craning her head forward to try and get one eye up to the opening.

===

Korn cringed as every light in the control room died, holding his breath until he was certain there wouldn't be another thaumic shockwave. Relaxing slightly, he nervously patted his arms and legs, checking to see if everything still felt the way it should. A stab of pain from his left wrist and the sudden, sharp smell of burning fur sent him scrabbling for the straps holding his comms bracer on. Fortunately, several megaseconds of returning home late and taking the thing off in an exhausted daze gave his muscles the memory of what to do -- even if his brain wasn't fully working. With a muttered curse he flung the painfully hot device to the floor, nursing his burned wrist.

He flinched again at a sudden shout of pain from across the room, followed by a string of unintelligible curses. In a flash of insight, he knew exactly what the problem was.

"It's the batteries, the pulse has shorted them out," he said in a loud voice. "Get rid of anything with a power source."

By now Korn's eyes had adjusted to the pale glow emitted from the phosphorescent safety sign above the door. He couldn't see much -- even a tunnel dweller's eyes needed some light -- but it was enough to see the tableau by the door. One of the Agents -- Ilaniro, he thought -- was struggling desperately with something attached to his wrist; even as Korn stared, small, bright sparks and puffs of flame seemed to dance on Ilaniro's forearm.

In a second, Korn had vaulted his console and shoulder charged Ilaniro, knocking the panicked Agent to the floor. In one quick motion he held the injured arm down with a foot, leaving both paws free to deal with the reluctant straps. He'd just got the thing undone when he was knocked sideways by a stunning blow to the head, his grip on the Agent's oversized comms bracer pulling the device free of the burnt flesh and sending it skittering across the floor. An instant later there was a thunderous bang, a sensation of burning across his muzzle and a flash bright enough to be seen through his closed eyelids.

"Korn is dead!" came an almost unintelligible snarl.

Korn muzzily opened his eyes to see a figure staggering towards him, one arm limp, the other holding a small pistol... although from this angle the barrel looked wide enough to swallow one of the moons. He skittered backwards on all four paws, but the gun tracked him relentlessly.

"Ilaniro, stop!" shouted the other Agent, Salrath, still struggling with her own pieces of overheated equipment.

Some spark of sanity returned to Ilaniro's eyes and he hesitated, the gun drooping slightly.

Agent Salrath took a few cautious steps forward and gently lowered the other's arm. "That one probably saved your hand," she said quietly. "Put the gun away."

Ilaniro swayed slightly, confused by the pain from his badly burnt wrist, then awkwardly reholstered the pistol. Salrath took him by his good paw and led him to one of the chairs, then pulled out a small medical kit to tend to his burn. Korn stared at the two Agents for a moment, then raised one paw to touch the spot of pain on his muzzle. His paw came away wet and he traced the shallow groove that that now ran across the top of his muzzle and between his eyes. Confusion gave way to understanding and he started to tremble with delayed shock.

A gentle touch on his shoulder made Korn jump. Turning he saw Vanca with one of the control room's emergency kits. "Korn will take slow breaths and remain calm," the Academician said in a gentle, almost motherly tone. "Allow Vanca to check this one's head."

The way she said it was enough to jolt Korn from his dazed state. He'd never heard that caring tone before -- he'd always assumed any sentiment had been burned from her by countless megaseconds of grant struggles. He stared at her open mouthed.

"...and wipe that silly expression off your muzzle," she said in her more normal acerbic tone.

Korn closed his mouth and grinned weakly. That is more like it, he thought.

"What does Korn think happened?" Vanca murmured, while digging through the emergency kit. "Aha, found it!" Activating a pair of chemical lights she gave one to Korn while sliding the other across the floor to the two Agents.

"It has to have been a thaumic excursion," Korn said, remembering that rainbow shockwave rolling through the control room, "but the power!" Korn's tone turned plaintive, "why aren't we dead?"

Vanca shivered, then sat back on her heels. "Korn is correct. At this range, an event of this magnitude should have had significant biological and chemical effects. Vanca is slightly surprised not to be a stuffed toy or a pot plant."

"The pulse must have been tuned to electrical and crystal thaumic systems... is that even possible?"

The Academician gave a short laugh. "Yesterday Vanca would have sworn to the Maker that it wasn't. Now, though..." She smiled at Korn, a grin of glee that only another scientist would understand. This was something new, some new crack in the laws of physics and magic. This was the kind of discovery that made history.

"Well, Academician?"

Vanca stiffened at Agent Salrath's peremptory tone. "It appears the servitor suffered a thaumic excursion."

"It's dead then? Good riddance."

Vanca and Korn exchanged a glance. Neither of them had seen the normal end stage of such an event. Suddenly, there was a dull thump from inside the beam chamber, followed a couple of seconds later by two more.

"This servitor has proven to be remarkably resilient," Korn said weakly, getting up and walking towards the small direct view peep-hole at the side of the big armoured windows. Sliding the cover to one side he leaned forward to get a good view into the chamber beyond. 

Eye. A shockingly large, lavender eye surrounded by long, delicate lashes and white, fur-covered skin stared back at him. It blinked. Korn jerked backwards in shock, then gave a shaky laugh and raised one paw in a daze to wave through the small window.

Agent Salrath glared at him like he was an idiot. "Well?" she said.

Korn cleared his throat and ignored the Agent, speaking instead to Vanca. "The servitor appears to be unharmed... it's hovering just outside the windows."

Vanca grinned widely. "Excellent! Can Korn get the shutters open?"

Korn opened a panel and tapped the controls inside. Nothing. Sighing, he pulled out a crank handle and slotted it into a socket under the inactive crystals. It started to turn, then jammed; Korn threw his weight against the handle to be rewarded a sudden bang from behind the panels. Stepping back he flicked the crank with one claw. It spun freely.

"Sorry, Academician, the mechanism has broken. Perhaps the pulse fused the motor?"

===

Fusion Pulse held her position with quick, short strokes of her wide wings. Student Korn had seemed shocked to see her and had quickly turned away from the small window, presumably to talk to the other Masters. Now with a clear view into the control room, she could see that the whole chamber was dark apart from a couple of bright green portable lights. It was painfully obvious that, as well as destroying all the magical equipment, whatever she'd done had also killed everything electronic. There was something else -- Fusion squinted into the gloom to try and understand what she was seeing.

One of the Masters -- a Hive Security Agent, she thought -- was hunched on a chair, cradling his left wrist like it was injured. He appeared to be mumbling to himself, shaking his head as if to clear it. Fusion's whole body stiffened with shock and she almost tumbled out of the air. I hurt one of them, she thought, struggling to regain her equilibrium. How many others were injured when I...  A wave of guilt washed through her, but it was a pale, brief thing, a shadow of what it should have been. Fusion held her emotions in check and smoothed her features back to the neutral expression that was probably expected of her.

A short while later Korn returned to the window and held up a piece of what looked like a procedures manual, drawn over with a crude cartoon figure. Fusion cocked her head to one side to try and get a good view of what it was. A figure with four legs and a pair of wings in front of a line of panels, one of which was separated from the rest and surrounded by a fringe of jagged lines. A similar set of lines radiated from the figure's head.

Fusion's mouth dropped open. They want me to break in? she thought, mind spinning. Ah well, if my Master orders... She gave an exaggerated nod, then waved her forelegs at Korn, watching him scurry for cover behind one of the instrument consoles.  

Her immediate instinct was to force the panel as fast as possible; there were injured Masters needing her help! There were several ways she could do it; application of enough heat at a single point or use a force field plane to shear a perfect line, for example, but none of these had the immediacy or safety of simple telekinesis.

Fusion decided to trust these urges; she was bound to be questioned. I must hide my new freedom, she reminded herself, Korn's obviously expecting me to be quick. At least the question of how to act when she got into the control room was easy to answer; even after all she'd been through, the urge to beg for forgiveness was strong. Horn light throwing her distorted shadow across the opposite wall, she felt around the leftmost panel, getting some idea of how the thing was constructed. 

Fusion had always imagined that telekinetic manipulation was just like having a set of dexterous paws -- paws you could make as large and as strong as your will could manage. Taking a firm grip around the heavy metal frame, she braced herself against the wall while pulling the panel out as hard as she could manage without activating her unnatural strength.

The carefully designed layers of magically active crystals and gems would normally have prevented that but, like the rest of the room, these had been damaged at some fundamental level. Even without the defunct thaumic protection the shutters were heavily built, strong enough to support several hoof-widths of high density radiation shielding and the sandwich of glass and electronics that formed the window proper. Couple that with the fact that the whole thing was set into a reinforced concrete wall and you had something that wouldn't have looked out of place on a military bunker. 

There was the horribly loud squeal of metal being stressed beyond its design limits and the whole line of armoured shutters, the windows they protected and the tracks they rested on were ripped out of the wall in a single fast movement. Slightly surprised, Fusion released the mass of metal and glass, leaving them to slam into the opposite wall with a thunderous crash.

"Oops," she muttered, then ducked her head to fly through the ragged opening. Alighting in the observation space she furled her wings and immediately dropped to the ground to grovel at the Master's paws, mouth opening to beg for forgiveness. Before she could speak a rapid motion caught her attention. 

The Agent who'd been cradling his damaged wrist lurched forward with a blood curdling shriek, drawing a small weapon from a concealed holster. The gun barked twice, muzzle flash drowned out by the sudden flare of white light from Fusion's horn. The Agent's eye's bulged, a deranged look on his face as he stared at the white haze enclosing the gun and his paw. He fired once more, the bullet following the same track as the others and passed through the space Fusion would have occupied if she'd still been standing. Struggling against the pony's immovable grip he kicked out at the white mare's throat, black claws glittering in the light of Fusion's magic.

Fusion jerked him away, but too late to avoid the claws. Extending her grip to encase his whole body in her telekinetic field and pulling the gun from his grip, she hissed in pain as blood started to well from the shallow scratches. Opening her mouth to speak she stopped abruptly as something cold and hard was jabbed into the left side of her head. 

"Release the Agent and drop that!" Salrath snarled.

The mare blinked, gaze travelling up the Agent's arm to focus on her hate filled face. If she'd have just shot me I'd be dead, Fusion thought, a shiver running down her spine, remember, filly, none of them are your friends. 

From a 'cold' start, even basic telekinesis magic takes a few moments to cast, but with horn still glowing from restraining the other Agent, Fusion could act faster than Salrath could move and had the advantage that her 'hand' was invisible. As a distraction she pulled Ilarano's gun quickly to the ground, simultaneously enveloping Salrath's pistol in another field. Convulsively, the Agent jerked back on the trigger, only to find she could not make it move. Fusion watched with interest as Salrath's forearm muscles bulged as she tried with all her strength to pull the trigger. Releasing the gun -- which stayed on the side of Fusion's head like it had been glued there -- the Agent's paw flashed to her belt, coming back up with a slender fighting knife.

"Stop!" 

The cry came from Fusion's right, the drill sergeant tones of a voice used to shouting over classfulls of students. Neither she nor the Agent paid Vanca any heed. Fusion's horn light brightened, lifting Salrath off the ground to kick uselessly a half body length from the ceiling. The Agent screamed in rage, hurling the knife only to have it slow and join the pony's growing collection of weapons.

"Let Salrath go immediately -- that is an order, servitor!" the floating Agent shouted uselessly, a mix of anger and fear twisting her features.

"Many apologies, Master, but for your own safety I cannot do that," Fusion replied meekly.

Salrath gaped at the mare. "Agent Salrath of Lacunae Hive Security orders you--"

"The pony will not follow your orders here, Agent," Academician Vanca said in a firm voice. "You are not its authorised Master."

Fusion climbed to her hooves and bowed her head to the Academician. "Sorry, Master, but that is not correct either. Technically, Salrath has the greater authority, but due to the current circumstances I cannot obey her orders."

Vanca froze, then turned to face Fusion. "Explain," she said in a deceptively calm voice.

Fusion had heard the Academician use that tone before and knew she should have been terrified. Somehow, all she felt was a vast calm, the enormity of her bluff and her determination to never again be helpless overriding her fear. It would hit her later, she was sure, but for now her mind was clear and felt like it was working at peak efficiency. "Agent Ilanrio," here she gestured to male Agent, currently held in a chair by Fusion's gentle, yet irresistible, hold, "appears to be suffering from the pain of his wounds. I removed your and his firearms because of the danger of ricochet inside this room."

Salrath had stopped struggling and was actually starting to listen, curious despite herself. "What about Salrath's knife?" she said, still sounding angry.

"I have inferred that I'm an important research subject, because of this I decided to protect myself for the good of the Hive from a decision that was being taken in the heat of the moment -- for as long as I did not put any Master in danger."

Salrath gave a bitter laugh. "What does the servitor call all this?" she said, waving one paw to take in Ilanrio and all the dead equipment.

"The unexpected is the nature of research, Agent," Vanca snapped. "The servitor has done well; it was only obeying orders, if a little over enthusiastically."

Salrath ground her teeth in impotent rage then relaxed a little and folded her arms. "Fine. Salrath will not euthanize it. Let Salrath down."

Fusion let Agent Salrath drop gently to the ground, then at a peremptory gesture floated the little knife and two guns in her direction. This task complete, the mare let her magic die, watching with satisfaction as Salrath holstered the knife and gun, then placed Ilanrio's weapon in one pocket.

Arms folded again, Salrath stepped over to Fusion, staring at the mare with undisguised malice. "Very well, Salrath accepts that explanation. One problem. The ammunition in these guns is strictly antipersonnel and will not ricochet."

There was no pain to trigger the response but Fusion cringed anyway, suddenly realising she'd misread Salrath completely. Eyes wide and ears flattened, she didn’t have to fake the fear that filled her voice. “S-sorry Master, I had no way of knowing... ” The temptation to bolt grew very strong, but where could she go? If I run they'll know, nopony would ever leave their Master in this situation, she thought.

Salrath studied the mare carefully, then narrowed her eyes. "Academician. How confident are you that your experiments have not affected this servitor's Blessing?" she said, still staring at the pony.

"That's highly unlikely! The failsafe--"

"So not impossible then?" Salrath said, smiling.

"Nothing is impossible, but it would be like..." the Academician waved her paws in the air, obviously groping for a suitable example that didn't involve quantum thaumophysics. "...like winning an eight pony accumulator on the trans Hive race!"

"That's what Salrath thought, not impossible. Salrath does not trust this servitor and thinks a test is in the interest of the safety of the Hive." She paused, smile widening, then spoke directly to Fusion. “The pony will notice that Salrath is perfectly calm and rational. Does the pony accept Salrath’s authority over it? Does the pony need reminding of Salrath's duty?” the Agent said in a calm tone, leaning forward slightly.

Fusion followed the conversation with rising panic, unable to figure out what Salrath was planning but completely sure it would be bad. What will she do? the mare thought. I won't let them Bless me again, I can't! Unbidden, the memories of the green colt filled her mind. “I accept you as my master. You are an Agent responsible for the internal security of Lacunae Hive and as such have total authority in such matters,” she said in a trembling voice.

“What about you, Academician?"

"Technically, Hive Security has jurisdiction," Vanca said with a scowl. "What is the Agent planning?"

Salrath ignored the question. "Excellent, we are all in agreement. Servitor, do not move or attempt magic.” In a flicker of motion she drew her fighting knife again and trailed the needle point over the spiral ridges of Fusion’s horn, down the side of her face and along the underside of her muzzle.

The mare inhaled sharply then froze, eyes following the slender blade. The thing was a couple of hoof-widths long and jet black apart from where the light glittered off the razor edge. Little prickling sensations marked its progress out of her sight, the tip reversing and following the line of her jaw to end up just underneath Fusions left eye. Not now, Fusion thought, I can’t be discovered now! Her mind hunted for a way out of this predicament that didn’t end up with her blinded or Salrath crushed to pulp inside a telekinetic fist. 

...and then what? I'd have to kill them all, she thought. It was one thing to perform a little vandalism, but to actually lay a hoof on a Master was practically blasphemy. She could do it, though; kill Korn, Vanca and the two Agents, then smash her way out of the Institute, fighting off any response the Masters made and anypony who saw what she was doing. There would be more deaths, many, many more if she didn't hold back. 

But they would catch her eventually. The killing wouldn't stop with her own death either; the Masters would be justifiably terrified that one of their servitors could do such a thing. Anypony connected to her by birth or association -- perhaps everypony taught by the same teacher, or Blessed by the same crown -- would disappear willingly into one of those black Security vehicles. They would go through Fusion's family and foal-mates like a mower through a field of hay.

The mare hesitated, unsure of what to do.

A slight increase in pressure on the knife tip broke her paralysis and made the decision for her. Too close, she thought, I'll never grab her paw in time. Surely it's a bluff, she just wants to scare me, nobody could do such a thing to another person. 

"Has Vanca taken into account the exposure this servitor has had to military grade thaumic suppression equipment? Salrath also knows this creature attempted to escape its restraining collar during the flight back to the Institute. What does Vanca think of that?" Salrath asked, knife point never moving from the white mare's eye.

Vanca narrowed her eyes at this. "Why did the Agent not mention this before?"

Salrath shrugged, looking amused. "The information was not supplied until just recently, apparently a routing error, if you believe that." It was obvious from the Agent's sardonic smile that she certainly didn't. "Anyway, Salrath knows the Academician's track record with servitors and expected the problem to be taken care of."

Vanca glared at the Agent for a second, then turned to Fusion. "Is this true, servitor?" she asked sharply.

She knows! Fusion thought, the dread almost making her faint. "M-my sister was being suffocated by the carrier's restraint system," the mare talked quickly, voice fast and unsteady in panic, "after that I panicked and there was no order to not use magic and- and--" Fusion fell silent, eyes rolling from Vanca to Salrath and back.

"Well, Agent? Vanca thinks this is a reasonable explanation, now release my servitor at once!" Vanca said in a commanding tone.

"This sounds plausible to Salrath, also," the Agent said, then shook her head in mock sadness. "Unfortunately that is also what a compromised servitor might say -- how could Salrath tell the difference? The servitor must be tested."

“In the Maker’s name, Agent, stop this at once,” Vanca pleaded. "There are ways to test the Blessing that don't involve torture!"

Fusion's gaze settled back on to Salrath, desperate to convince herself that this was all some vicious game. What she saw made her heart lurch and an involuntary whinny escape her throat. At the little sound the Agent's ears pricked up and her lips peeled back in a lazy half smile, sharp white teeth glinting in the lurid green chemlight glow. She had been staring at Fusion, an eager, almost hungry look in her eyes. That same interested look that she'd had when she'd pushed Gravity into punishment fugue and the blue mare had fallen writhing to the ground.

“Invoking God? Surely the great Vanca isn’t a believer?” Salrath said in a suddenly jovial tone, not taking her eyes off Fusion. “Yes, there are, but only with the right equipment. Does Vanca have a working high resolution thaumic scanner or memory interrogation crown? No? Salrath thought not. Anyway, this servitor needs its horn, not its eyes.”

> 12 - No Good Deed Goes Unpunished 
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist

Author’s note: the first few pages contain some graphic violence


Inter-Hive Committee for the Study of Astrophysical Phenomena: request for observations
Subject: fluctuations in solar output
Urgent! IHCSAP requests that any researchers with observations of Celestia on 3109.031, between 0900 and 1000, should send their raw data immediately for review and comparison. 


=== Chapter 12 (remastered): No Good Deed Goes Unpunished ===


Korn watched with a kind of fascinated horror as the Agent drew her knife and ran along the pony's muzzle. He quietly stood up and started to work his way behind Salrath, the heavy emergency kit held tightly in one paw. If Salrath does this, the pony will never have the confidence to match that performance again, it -- she -- is being punished just for accidentally humiliating the Agent. It's sick, he thought, a half formed plan to knock the Agent out while they waited for rescue bubbling up from his subconscious. 

Something struck the back of his legs with stunning force, dropping him to his knees, while an amazingly strong hand gripped him by the throat, sharp claws at the ends of long fingers digging into the flesh on each side of his windpipe. Half choking, he dropped the kit, his own paws coming up to grab the paw at his throat. A slight tightening of the grip and he froze, not daring to resist.

"That's right, stay still. Even with one arm, Ilanrio can still kill Korn in a heartbeat," the injured Agent hissed into Korn's ear. "This one thinks the Student is getting a little too attached to his charge. All those late nights alone with an obedient servitor -- they're always so eager to please -- who knows what might happen?"

Korn's muzzle twisted in disgust. "Are all you Agents mad?"

Ilanrio gave Korn's throat a warning squeeze. "Watch that mouth, cub. Ilanrio is doing this one a favour, assaulting a Security Agent will get Korn half a gigasec of hard time. Not to mention Ilanrio could kill Korn and suffer no more than a little screenwork."

"That servitor is a vital part of our research, if Salrath kills it we will loose megaseconds of time, even if there is a suitable replacement available. It might even be unique, Korn's never seen such performance in a pony," he pleaded.

"It sounds like Korn is in love with it. It's a menace and a potential danger to the Hive," Ilanrio said, voice turning ugly. 

"But it's so stupid -- if Salrath is right, then the servitor will kill her, either way we loose!"

"If Salrath sees so much as a glimmer of magic, she'll bury the knife hilt deep in its head. It won't have time to do anything. Now shut up and watch!"

===

What nearly broke Fusion was the anticipation. The little needle point of the knife dug into the skin under her left eye, little pulses of sensation in time with her rapid breathing. Her gaze was fixed on the Agent's face, the blade made a near-invisible blur by its black coating and extreme proximity. The Agent was speaking again, her attention on the Academician, but the point remained absolutely still, as if it grew from her flesh like a misplaced feather. 

Amid the terror now flooding her mind a little voice was screaming in fury, berating her for allowing this to occur. Stupid mare, what happened to not being helpless! With an effort of will Fusion stilled the little voice, closing her eyes to await the inevitable, knowing she had no choice but to allow Salrath to do what ever she wanted. Please let this just be a test, she thought, let me get out of this and I'll never be so stupid ever again. 

A paw wrapped around her horn, the pressure of the knife never wavering.

"Oh no, servitor. Keep your eyes open," Salrath whispered. "The pony wouldn't want Salrath to get this wrong."

Reluctantly Fusion opened her eyes, staring up at the Agent through tears that she was powerless to stop. The paw on her horn tightened, then the knife lifted away from her skin. For a brief moment, the mare dared to hope that her wish had been granted and it was all just a test. 

The pain, when it came, was relatively mild. The knife was very sharp and Salrath had lightning reflexes, the blade darting in and out with the speed of a striking snake. The abrupt intense stinging and the sudden motion made her blink reflexively; when the eye opened again the once sharply focused image had distorted, her view of the Agent drifting, blurring and fading. 

Despite realising that the Agent was fully capable of violence in the heat of the moment, she'd not actually expected her to go through with such a cold-blooded action. The sudden pain and immediate loss of vision brought it home and Fusion felt her legs buckle. The grip on her horn vanished as Salrath let go, allowing the mare to sink to the floor. A vague shape moved from her left side, then Salrath walked into the field of view of her good eye. The Agent kneeled down by her head, studying the mare carefully. Reaching forward again, she gripped the pony's spiral horn, tapping the now bloody knife on the floor.

Fusion couldn't help herself; a small whinny escaped her throat and she jerked her head away from that terrible instrument. Sweat poured down her flanks and her remaining eye grew wide.

"Master, please..." she whispered, voice full of terror, all thoughts of her larger rebellion washed away. Unbidden, the patterns required to activate her telekinesis started to fill her mind, simple things that were almost instinctive once a pony was past foalhood. The desire to reach out with that immaterial limb and lash out at the Agent grew very strong. Her fear grew even larger, expanding to encompass her family and friends; the mare certain with the conviction of a true paranoid that the slightest hint of resistance would condemn them all. 

Fusion let her mind fill with the terror, let half a gigasecond of conditioning overtake her, and submitted completely to the Master's dubious mercy.

Salrath touched the blade tip to the long, delicate lashes that fringed Fusion's eyelid and held it there, listening to the choked noises coming from the pony. Then she sighed and pulled the knife back. "It looks like the Academician was correct," she said, releasing Fusion's horn and frowning. To the mare, her senses honed by countless encounters where failure to anticipate a Master's wishes would result in pain, Salrath's voice practically shouted her disappointment. Wiping the little blade carelessly on her jacket front, the Agent stood back up and walked away from Fusion without a backwards glance.

Fusion lay there panting, tremors running through her body as the shock of what had just happened finally caught up with her. There were voices raised in complaint, but she paid them no heed as she tried to come to terms with the horror that had been inflicted upon her. Out of reflex, she blinked and rolled her eyes, trying to clear her vision, just as if she had some dust in them. The pain came on in a flash, the shock wearing off and nerves finally reporting the full extent of the damage. 

In many ways it was less severe than some of the pains generated by the Blessing; like all ponies, Fusion was used to those and had developed mental techniques for managing it. What really affected her was the mental trauma that came with the injury and the sadistic way Salrath had ordered her to watch her own maiming; those few seconds played over and over in her mind. Still shivering, Fusion pulled both wings over her head and tried to make the world go away.

An infinity of time later she felt something brush against her mane, then press gently between her shoulder blades. She twitched, then flinched away from the hesitant contact, but the touch remained, turning into a slow stroke that ran down her back from mane to half way to her tail root. Despite the strangeness of the situation the contact was oddly comforting, almost like when she was a foal and one of her parents was running a brush through her coat. The stroking stopped, replaced with a gentle pressure on her left wing, pulling it down and away from her head. She didn't resist, refolding the wing with jerky motions.

"It's okay, pony. Salrath has gone."

The voice was quiet and came from her blind side; for a few seconds Fusion couldn't place it. She twisted her head around, only for her muzzle to be gently blocked by an unseen paw. "Student Korn?" she said.

"Yes. The pony will keep her head still and let Korn check her injury."

Fusion obligingly tilted her head to allow the Master easier access to her left eye, wincing when something cold and wet was sprayed on it. The pain surged and she flinched, then it faded to a dull throb. The mare cautiously tried to move her eyes; it still hurt, but was no worse than a muscle ache from a bruise. Korn carefully closed the eye, putting something over the lid to keep it shut, followed by something soft obviously taken from his emergency kit.

Out of her good eye, Fusion saw Vanca step closer to her, holding up one of the green chem lights to study her carefully. The Academician swept the light down the mare's torso, her eyes widening. She stepped back and snorted in tired amusement.

"Vanca knew we should have called the pony 'Celestia' after the light show it put on. Congratulations," she said dryly.

Fusion blinked in confusion at that remark. She wants to call me the same name as the sun? On her other side Korn drew his breath in sharply, obviously seeing the same thing as Vanca had. "Masters?" she said, "I don't understand."

"Korn is sorry it couldn't have been under better circumstances, but he would also like to extend his congratulations." With that, he tapped Fusion on her hind quarters, then got up and stepped away, looking slightly shamefaced.

The mare craned her head to see what they were talking about, realised she'd twisted the wrong way, then looked at her other flank. What had once been smooth, white fur was now marked with a broad yellow circle, eight twisted triangles in orange surrounding it. My labour tattoo, she thought, stunned and all pain forgotten. Flames around a circle... it's the sun. She thought back to that distant point of warmth she had felt at the training centre and in the beam chamber only a kilosecond ago. Was that the sun I could feel?

Suddenly feeling very tired and overwhelmed, the mare tucked her head down and drew her wings back up, doing her best to retreat once more from an unreasonably complex and uncaring world. 

What does all this mean?

===

Korn stared open mouthed as the servitor collapsed silently to the floor, thinking for a moment that Salrath had actually killed her. No, still breathing, he thought, noting the rapid heaving of the pony's chest. He started to protest when the Agent walked slowly around to Fusion's other side, freezing when Ilanrio's claws became painfully tight around his windpipe.

With the blood thundering through his ears, he barely heard the pony's whispered plea for mercy. Korn closed his eyes in reflexive sympathy when the senior Agent gripped the servitor's horn and raised the knife again.

"It looks like the Academician was correct," Salrath said.

Korn relaxed in sudden relief as the Agent changed her mind and walked away from the pony, leaving the poor creature slumped on the floor. The pony appeared to shrink into itself, wings hunching up and legs pulling in under her body. He twisted his head slightly to look at Ilranrio. "Let go," he hissed.

"The pony is all yours," Ilranrio replied with a smirk, releasing the Student's throat with a twist that sent the Student sprawling.

Korn picked up the emergency kit and padded over to the pony. Placing it by the huddled form, he flicked the case open and paused, eyeing the small bottle that sat in its own little section, surrounded by red hazard markers. "Emergency stimulants, servitor use only," he muttered, tracing the label with one claw. Maybe later, he thought.

Moving to the section for normal first aid supplies, Korn pulled out a can of anaesthetic spray. Can in one paw he opened his mouth to order the servitor to lower its wing, then hesitated. Is this the right thing to do? he thought. Hesitantly, Korn reached out with one paw and laid it on the trembling back. The pony shied away from his touch, but he didn't remove his paw. Korn stroked gently down the white-furred back, running his claws from coarse pink mane, through the little patch of feathers between her wings and down her spine.

A few seconds of this and the tremors had subsided. Korn took a chance and slowly pulled one wing back to its folded position. "It's okay, pony. Salrath has gone," he said softly. The white head came up, searching for his voice.

"Student Korn?" Fusion said.

"Yes. The pony will keep her head still and let Korn check her injury."

Korn busied himself with the medical supplies. There was little enough he could do, just clean and disinfect the wound. Fortunately the damage was relatively minor; whatever else he thought of Salrath, the Agent was good with her knife. The eye itself was ruined but there was no injury to the surrounding flesh that Korn could see. He dabbed at the trickle of blood running down the pony's muzzle, then covered the socket with a gauze pad. He was just closing up the emergency kit when Vanca stepped up to the pony, holding up one of the green chem lights.

"Vanca thinks we should rename the pony 'Celestia' after the light show it put on. Congratulations," the Academician said dryly.

Korn followed Vanca's gaze down the servitor's flank and to its hip, inhaling sharply when he saw how the fur had changed colour to form a stylised solar disk. By the Maker, Korn shouldn't be surprised at this, he thought, the pony has been doing tremendous work. No one really knew why the servitors formed these coloured patches or why they were always loosely related to something they were especially good at; the ponies’ original design by the Creation Stones was lost to history and the wars that started almost immediately after their creation. There was little likelihood of the question ever being answered -- research into the single Stone Lacunae possessed had never gotten anywhere. As far as anyone knew they just weren’t active when separated.

It's definitely the sun, he thought, Korn wonders if it means anything more than that the pony’s special talent is energy manipulation? 

"Masters?" Fusion said, moving her head from side to side to look at Korn and Vanca in turn. "I don't understand."

"Korn is sorry it couldn't have been under better circumstances, but he would also like to extend his congratulations," Korn said, reaching out with one paw to tap the mare's hind quarters, then standing up and backing away. He was feeling genuinely ashamed for how the creature had been treated; this was supposed to be one of those defining moments in a pony's life. Well, the pony won't forget today in a hurry, he thought darkly. 

Wanting to get away from the pony and the unwelcome feelings of guilt that seeing it injured brought on, Korn stepped over to the control room windows, now nothing more than a gaping hole than ran across the width of the room. Sticking his head through the opening he looked out into the damaged beam dump chamber, curious to see if the epicentre of the thaumic pulse had been affected in any way. 

The control room had been high up on the wall of the chamber, a good five lengths above the floor. That floor was now invisible, covered in a thick layer of white fog with a curiously sharp boundary between the clear air and the opaque layer below. Korn stared at it in confusion for a second, then moved his gaze to the rightpaw wall that had held the beam pipe terminus. Here the fog's surface wasn't smooth, but bubbled up in constant motion, exactly like a boiling liquid. As he watched, the level of the fog crept up the walls slightly.

Korn stared down at the fog, worry starting to eat at him. It was obvious that the cryogenic systems had failed -- perhaps some powered valve had jammed open when its motor was fused by the thaumoelectric pulse -- dumping liquid nitrogen into the beam pipe corridor. The magnets used to steer the particle beam were all high temperature superconductor types, but such things always had better performance when kept cold. Liquid nitrogen was cheap and the accelerator used tonnes of the stuff; now containment had failed and the liquid gas was pouring out into the complex. 

"Academician," he called out, "Korn thinks we have a problem."

Vanca moved to the other's side, looking down at the dense layer of mist. "How much does Korn think there is still to come?"

Korn ran the calculations in his head. One cubic length of liquid nitrogen will expand to over eight hundred times its volume as a gas, he thought. This kind of catastrophic release was planned for -- the accelerator ring was sealed off from the rest of the complex while experiments were underway -- but with the gaping hole in the wall, the gas would fill the little control room without pause. Korn swallowed, throat dry.

"It depends on where the failure is, but far too much. The size of those liquid nitrogen tanks..."

"Agreed. We need to leave. Let's take a look at that door."

The pair of scientists trotted over to the door that allowed access to the control room. As had been required in the latest security refit, the door was heavily built, made from a polymer-ceramic laminate that was almost a tenth of a length thick. When closed, as it was now, the surface was featureless, on opening the whole slab would slide sideways into a recess on hidden motors. There was no manual handle, nothing to get a grip on.

Vanca opened up the panel next to the door and eyed the mechanical override. Reaching in she pulled back on the bolt release, retracting the locking mechanism. "So far, so good," she muttered, exchanging a glance with Korn, "This is where the trouble really starts." Taking hold of the manual wheel she wiggled it experimentally. It moved slightly, but showed no inclination to move any further. Sighing, she gestured for Korn to take the other side, then they both pulled on the wheel with all their strength.

"You know the servitor better than Vanca," the Academician said as they both strained at the wheel. "What state is it likely to be in? Is it still functional?"

"Perhaps," Korn grunted, starting to pant with the exertion. "She has received a number of shocks in the last hundred kiloseconds. It was a mistake to separate the pony from her kin last night; they are still a herd species."

Vanca looked like she'd just bitten into something rotten. "Yes," she said reluctantly. "Nothing to be done now. Vanca thinks it will be the only one able to open this door." The Academician released the wheel, slumping against the nearest instrument console.

Gasping, Korn stepped back and started to root through the emergency kit. "Korn agrees, but will try this first. She should be left in peace for as long as possible, to allow her to calm down." Pulling out an arms-length pry-bar, he slotted it through the spokes on the wheel, jamming it in place and leaning on it with all his strength. There was a slight creaking sound, but little else. "Just like the window shutters," he said, releasing the bar and flexing his paw to get the feeling back in it, "Korn thinks the motors are fused." 

Pulling the pry-bar out of the wheel he tapped it on the door thoughtfully, then ran his claws around the rim. "Stupid, paranoid security," he muttered, casting an angry glance at the pair of Agents, who were currently sorting through their piles of mostly useless equipment. The door fitted perfectly; there wasn't room to get a slip of paper between the door and its frame, let alone the tip of the pry-bar. Blasted thing is probably hermetically sealed, he thought.

Next to him Vanca's ears folded back. "They say it's a painless way to go," she muttered.

Korn turned to stare at the Academician. "Maybe tomorrow," he said, hefting the heavy metal bar and stabbing it at the junction between door and frame. The impact made the tool vibrate enough to leave his paws numb, but he pulled the bar back and slammed into the door again and again. Panting he stood back and turned to see the two Agents watching him.

"What is the problem, Student Korn?" Salrath said in an amused tone. "Not keen on our company?"

"As much as Korn dislikes Salrath, he has no intention of being present when the Maker finally calls the Agent to account," he said coldly. "If this door cannot be opened in the next kilosecond we are all dead."

"Don't take Salrath for a fool, Student. We are perfectly safe in here."

"Perhaps the Agent should take a look out the window and tell Vanca how far below the lip the fog is?" the Academician said.

===

Salrath stared at the pair of scientists, trying to decide if they were trying to humiliate her. She still burned inside after being rendered helpless by a mere servitor, even if it had turned out to be only following its conditioning. Security ponies were specially trained for the kinds of operations they got to see; mostly they had to stop 'normal' servitors from interfering in security work. Even these days it was not unknown for an operation to be blown by an idiot pony acting to prevent the legitimate capture of a criminal by covert Security forces. 

They'll both suffer if this is a joke, the Agent thought. Exactly how she'd get back at someone as well connected as Vanca wasn't certain, but she'd seen Korn trying to interfere with her testing of the servitor. That should be good for at least a property search and a data intercept; no telling what that might turn up... Picking up a chem light, she stalked over to the ragged opening in the wall and looked out.

The Agent froze, trying to understand the scene below her. Illuminated in the green chemical glow of the emergency light was a layer of cloud that filled the whole chamber. She blinked; the floor of that room had been at least five lengths below the windowsill and now there was nothing but a layer of fog so dense it looked like she could walk on it. Or at least a servitor could. Already little wisps of mist were creeping over the consoles that lined this side of the opening. Hesitantly, she reached out one paw and dipped it into that pool of vapour.

Cold, like her paw had been placed into a freezer, filtered through her fur, a cold that grew more and more intense the deeper she pushed her arm. By now the fog was misting her whiskers and she pulled back as the chill started to make the skin around her claws tingle. Flexing her paw, she struggled to remember what little she knew about the big accelerator, determined not to appear stupid in front of the scientists. The thing was the subject of constant documentaries, not the sort of thing she normally watched, but...

"Maker, no!" she said in a strained voice, hurriedly stepping back from the opening. The fog, disturbed by her rapid movement, swirled and followed her back into the room like a hunting snake. And Salrath nearly stuck her head in that! The Agent shivered, running back to the door and snatching the bar from Korn. "When did Vanca plan to tell Salrath about this?" she growled, jamming the bar back between the spokes of the wheel and throwing all her weight against it.

"This one would not have let the Agent climb through the window," Vanca said tiredly.

"Probably," Korn muttered darkly, lending his own strength to the effort to turn the wheel. Something groaned from within the mechanism, but the handle still didn't move.

Salrath cast her eyes around the room, looking for a longer lever, then stopped, staring at the huddled form of the servitor. A dozen quick strides took her to that bundle of white and pink fur. "Get up, you lazy vermin!" she snarled, raising one clawed paw to deliver a kick to the creature's ribs.

"Stop!" shouted Korn.

Salrath nearly completed the action, but something in the Student's voice made her pause. "Korn does not tell this one--" she snapped.

"And if the Agent drives the servitor into fugue, what good will that do?" Korn said in an angry tone.

Salrath threw up her paws in frustration. "Fine," she yelled, waving at the sea of fog starting to pour into the control room. "Take all the time in the world." 

Stepping back, she watched impatiently as Korn placed a paw gently on one wing, pulling it down and away from the servitor's head. The Student started to whisper something into the pony's folded ear, all while raking his other paw through the tangled pink mane. Disgusting, Salrath thought, lips drawing back from her teeth in a silent snarl, getting so close to one of those creatures. Something else to add to the 'probable cause' justification for when she started digging through that one's life. 

Whatever Korn was saying to the servitor seemed to be working, though; the pony lowered its wings and lifted its head to receive something from the emergency kit, then rose unsteadily to its hooves, walking over to the door. 

===

Fusion could hear the voices, but the actual words were indistinct. She felt like she should be able to understand them, but something was happening in her brain to render them meaningless. There was a gentle touch on her wing, and what felt like a coarse comb started to work through her mane; just like the last time this was curiously calming and she felt her muscles relax a little. 

"The pony needs to stand up and help Korn open the door. This room will be flooded with nitrogen soon."

Most of that was still meaningless, but Fusion latched onto the last sentence and correlated it with the increasing sensation of cold that was gathering around her hindquarters. Nitrogen, she thought, I must have damaged the magnet housings along with everything else. Unbidden, the specifications of the accelerator flowed through her mind, and she lowered her wings and raised her head to look at Student Korn. The Master was crouched next to her holding a medical spray marked with lurid red hazchem symbols.

Following her nervous gaze, he held the bottle up where she could see it. "Does the pony want this? Korn needs her to open the door," he repeated in a voice that was trying to be calm, but screamed worry to Fusion's attuned senses.

The cold flowed along Fusion's flanks as she felt for her magic. Her mind seemed fragmented, the patterns elusive and blurred. Nothing seemed to work properly. Focussing with difficulty on the bottle, she nodded and opened her mouth to receive the spray.

The cold liquid hit the back of her throat and filled her mouth with something so bitter that she nearly gagged. She swallowed anyway; whatever was in the spray was very fast acting. Heat seemed to flow into her limbs, and everything around her snapped into a clarity that was almost painful. Fusion felt full of energy, her mind razor sharp and capable of anything. Waving Korn back with one wing, the mare staggered to her hooves. A glance backwards told her all she needed to know; mist was cascading over the lip of the broken window and spreading across the floor. Another few seconds and I'd never have risen at all, she thought, shocked out of her comfortable retreat from reality.

Trotting over to the door, she gripped the manual wheel with her magic and started to twist it. A halo of white light appeared around the wheel, growing brighter and brighter as the mare applied more force to the jammed mechanism. There was a sudden loud shriek of tearing metal and the wheel started to move, spinning fast enough that the spokes blurred to invisibility and sang a rising note as they thrashed the air. The door didn't move.

Another pulse of force and she stopped the wheel. "I'm sorry, Master, I appear to have broken the mechanism," she said to Korn.

"Not important," he said, looking nervously at the thickening layer of fog now pooling around his calves. The control room was filling rapidly now, the leak probably made worse by some other failure down in the pool of cryogenic gas. "Korn gives you permission to break it down."

Fusion blinked at him, then turned carefully to face Salrath. "Agent?" she said, fighting to keep her voice steady in front of her tormentor. In truth, Fusion did feel unsteady, almost drunk. Some reaction to the drugs, or am I in shock?

"Yes, Maker dammit, open the door!"

This is what it's like to be reliant on others for your life, you monster, Fusion thought, gazing at Salrath for a second longer than was necessary, feeling her fear evaporate under the blowtorch of her building anger. More than anything, she wanted this Master to suffer, wanted to leave her in this room to die. How many ponies have you tormented? she thought. But I can't do it, you need to live. 

Keeping her face expressionless, she turned away, using her magic to examine the door. It was just as heavily built as the window shutters, although it was fully protected by the frame it sat in. Fusion eyed it thoughtfully; even magic needed something to grip onto. In principle she could feel for the edge of the door through the wall and force it that way, but that was slow. There were any number of faster ways, but she picked one that required the least precision, as well as allowing her to safely release some of her rage. 

Moving her head in big clumsy arcs, Fusion looked over the room for something suitable to use as a hammer. Eye alighting on the discarded pry-bar, she picked it up and turned it over in her magic. 

"That'll never be strong enough--" Salrath started, breaking off when the glow around the bar intensified. 

Fusion stared at the Agent, not looking at the bar while she straightened out the hook end of the thick metal with no sign of effort. Holding the bar in the air between them, she flicked it end over end a couple of times to get a feeling for the weight, then pointed it at the door like a stubby spear. "Not yet, Master, but it will be. You should take cover; my control is impaired," she said, watching with satisfaction as Salrath's ears folded back and she dragged Ilanrio to cover behind one of the big instrument cabinets. 

A moment's concentration and a high pitched pure tone had the metal bar surrounded by a sharply defined shell of white light within her telekinetic haze. Another crystal chime and she was surrounded by a half dome of white light -- although, unlike the ones generated by the foals, it stopped before it penetrated the floor. Fusion gritted her teeth and shoved the force field protected metal bar at the edge of the door as hard as she could manage.

The room blazed white with horn light as the bar shot forwards so fast it practically disappeared. In the same instant a hoof sized crater was smashed through the upper left corner of the door with a sound like a high velocity bullet striking a metal plate. Half a second later the bar returned, slightly to the right of its original impact point, exploding back through the armoured door in a cloud of fast ceramic splinters that whined off the impervious shell of her force field and rattled around the room. 

Dimly, Fusion could see the Masters cowering behind their chosen instrument panels, paws clamped over their ears and eyes tight shut against the dust, but she didn't care. Her horn flared brighter still and the bar reversed its course yet again to punch a new hole, then back and forward and back and forward, cutting a row of craters around the edge of the door. Hidden by the light and incredible noise, Fusion screamed as she poured her rage out into her magic, accelerating the bar until it wasn't even visible for the brief moments during which it was reversing direction.

A continuous explosion ripped around the door, filling the control room with thunder and hot fragments. Within a few seconds the ragged line of holes had stitched its way around the edge of the door and Fusion held the bar still, breathing fast and ragged. She let her magic fade and dropped the bar, now distorted and glowing yellow hot -- not from the impacts and rapid motion, but from her clenched magical grip -- to the floor, where it lit the fog layer with a warm light that rapidly faded to red and then black. Fusion lowered her own force field, then reached out and gripped the door in a haze of white light, ripping it free with a single fast motion.

"It is safe, Masters. We should leave now," she said, her voice loud in the sudden, ringing silence.

The Masters, all looking shocked and more than a little nervous, scrambled through the smashed opening and gathered in the corridor outside. Fusion strode out after them, picking up the emergency kit and pulling the remains of the door through the opening. The mare stopped short, staring at the lilac glowing wall that filled the corridor a few lengths away. The other force field flicked off, revealing the shape of another pony standing with wings raised in the middle of the passageway. 

Fusion squinted against the dust that was blowing past her, recognising the other's equipment harness. Glancing from side to side, she waited for one of the Masters to give an order, but they all seemed to be a little stunned, coughing and gagging in the dust laden air. There's something... she thought, flaring her nostrils in a useless attempt to catch the pony's scent, then sneezing. He was on the training field when the foals were Blessed. Then she had it. "Mach Front," she said, "it is not safe here, we need to get these People to the surface."

The security stallion, lilac fur a sick greenish-grey in the chem light's radiance, folded his wings and took a step to one side. Behind him, looking distinctly sheepish, were a trio of Hive Security Masters who had been crouched in the shelter of his force field. "Fusion Pulse? We've been helping everyone we find get to the rescue centre that's been set up at the transit hub; is that all--"

"Salrath will make her own decisions, servitor," Agent Salrath said loudly.

Fusion saw Mach wince like he'd been jabbed in the side of the head with a needle, then turned away so the other pony wouldn't see the expression on her face. To further hide her anger, she dumped the contents of the emergency kit out onto the floor. Picking up the door she jammed the thick slab into the opening; despite the smashed and cratered edges it was possible to wedge it back into position - most of the damage was to the ceramic layers, the tough plastics had merely been perforated and torn.

Rooting through the spilled emergency kit, the mare came up with a fat roll of the ubiquitous high-strength sealing tape and started to run lengths of it around the edge of the door. 

"Leave that, servitor," Salrath growled, distracted from her conversation with her subordinate Agents.

Fusion continued to apply the tape, but turned her good eye on Salrath. "Yes, Master, but if I don't at least slow the escape of the gas there may be other casualties in the surrounding area. If I seal this door, then it will be diluted throughout the ventilation system, rather than flooding these rooms. Do you still wish me to stop?"

"The pony is correct," Vanca said, coughing in the dusty air. "There is time and it may save lives."

Salrath snarled something indistinct, then went back to her discussion.

===

Vanca leaned against the corridor wall while the servitor applied sealing tape to the ragged edges of the door. Having to wait was almost torture; she had no way to know how much of the experiment's data had been lost when the local buffers were trashed by the thaumoelectric pulse, and she was itching to check in at the main processing cluster. At least all the analysis is done off site, she thought, hopefully that pulse weakened enough not to wipe the memory cores. The fact that the corridor was without power had come as a great shock to her; if the pulse had punched through the doubly shielded control room wall it could have gone a long way. 

The Academician ran the calculations in her head, coming up with numbers that were horrifying to contemplate. To have discovered something new and with such great potential but to be unable to prove anything... She shivered and grimaced in the darkened corridor. Even with the data, Vanca will be lucky to escape censure after causing so much damage, she thought gloomily.

Another few strips of tape and she couldn't bear it any longer. "Servitor, what did you do differently from the previous test?" she said, prodding the white mare with one sharp claw.

The pony, obviously concentrating on its task, jumped in surprise before twisting her head in Vanca's direction. "I..." Her mouth opened and closed a few times, obviously searching for the right words. "I'm sorry, Academician Vanca, it's very hard to put into words. It's a different way to use my magic, so obvious that I'm amazed nopony has managed it before." The mare hung her head, looking dejected. "Please forgive me, Master."

Vanca grunted, digesting what the servitor had said. If this technique is easily transferable... "Could the pony show another how to do what it did?"

The white head lifted and the pony seemed to perk up. "Yes, Master," she said enthusiastically, "with the right spell I can let another experience exactly what I did." She paused, ears flattening. "It couldn't be just anypony, though; they'd have to be strong... there's a barrier you have to break, sort of, in your head."

At this news, Vanca's mood also lifted. Even if the data is gone, the ability to boost a servitor's strength by an order of magnitude would be incredibly valuable. "Excellent. Vanca will check the eugenics database when we return."

"If I might make a suggestion, Master?" the servitor said hesitantly. "I know my sister has good manipulation skills, and she was present during my first... accident. It may be easier to train her in the technique, as well as how to avoid my mistakes."

Vanca raised her eyebrows at that, then started to reprimand the servitor for supplying its unasked opinion. Mouth half open, she paused, suddenly struck by a thought. Same family line, but different specialisation. That would make a superb test case... she thought. "Student Korn is more familiar with the servitor's breeding history, what is his opinion? she asked the Student. 

Korn started to reply, then paused to glare at Ilranio when the Agent laughed at this question. "That servitor, Gravity Resonance TP5325, had similar power scores to this one," here he gestured to Fusion, "and was on the short list for after the research on Fusion Pulse TC4668 was, ah, completed," he said, looking sidelong at the white mare, who promptly dropped the roll of tape she was using. 

"Apologies, Master," the servitor said, its normally meek tone tinged with some other emotion, "I think I'm having a reaction to the medical spray. I am feeling a little unsteady."

“Vanca will think on this," the Academician said, ignoring the mare's words and completely failing to keep the excitement from her voice.

> 13 - Sun and Moon
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist


=== Chapter 13 (remastered): Sun and Moon ===


Gravity watched as Korn closed the door to the animal house, leaving her alone in the room with Animal Scanner. The chamber was empty; a square lined with various sizes of cages on either side and an array of complex machinery on the opposite wall. There was the smell of various species -- dog, rabbit, rat -- as well as a trace of... Gravity flared her nostrils, inhaling great drafts of air. Pony, she thought, there was a pony in here, some time ago. The blue mare walked slowly past the empty chrome steel cages. "What is this place?"

"The Masters do a certain amount of animal research," the red stallion said quietly, settling down on a padded section of the floor and watching her movements with a sad look on his face. "This is where they keep some of the subjects."

"I-I see," Gravity said, conflicting emotions running through her. A headache started to build at the base of her horn as she tried to reconcile her knowledge of the greatness of the Masters with these unpleasant implications. And what about Random and all our foals? she thought, remembering what the Agent had said about their likely fate. The blue mare stood in the middle of the room, head bowed under weight of the memory. The pain in her head started to spread down her neck and fill her chest. Breathing became difficult, the air whistling through her clenched teeth. 

"Gravity? Are you alright?" Animal said, alarm in his voice.

The Masters know best, they made us, so they must know us better than we know ourselves. If they think there is the chance of the foals hurting one of them... Her mind shied away from that horror, the unthinkable thought driving back her feelings for her own kind. ...then they must act. It's the only thing they can do. The pain faded, replaced by a warm glow that managed to mask the ache in her heart. Gravity lifted her head, now sure she had reached the right conclusion. "Thank you for helping me find the right path," she whispered, directing the prayer at the Maker. She sniffed mightily, shaking her head to dislodge the tears that had collected on her eyelashes, then turned to smile wanly at Animal, who had half risen from the alcove. "It's okay, just getting things straight in my head."

The red stallion settled slowly back down and smiled at her. "It's not easy, and the hurt never really goes away, but I'm glad you've come to terms with it," he said, nodding encouragingly. "If you ever want to talk anything through, don't hesitate to speak to me."

Gravity nodded back and resumed her slow wander around the room. She stepped closer to the wall of machines, squinting slightly at the harsh reflections off the chromed surfaces. The centre of the wall was dominated by a cluster of robot arms surrounding a fat white plastic donut, the hole in the middle of which was lined with a dense layer of needle-like crystals and would be large enough for Gravity to fit her head and shoulders through.

Something twitched on her chest and the mare looked down, seeing her defunct comms disk rock slightly as she moved across the opening of the torus. She brought up one hoof and touched the metal, feeling it resist her touch. Her eyes went back to the machinery, tracing the dozen arms that surrounded it. The thing looked like the maw of some exotic sea creature ringed with feeding tentacles. The lower six terminated in flat plastic plates, each equipped with several padded clamps that looked to be highly adjustable. Four of the remainder ended in compact machines: clusters of high resolution cameras, X ray sensors and other less identifiable items, all obviously designed to compliment the thaumomagnetic resonance imager they were linked to.

The remaining pair of arms were the strangest, and Gravity leapt off the ground to hover next to them and get a better view. Complex, multiply jointed 'fingers', each tipped with a different chrome instrument. Drill, circular saw, knife, laser; the thing looked like the mouthparts of an insect, albeit one a quarter of a length across. The mare dropped back to the polished floor, hooves landing with a clack against the hard surface. Looking back at the rest of the room, Gravity traced the cages as they changed from small things near the door to ones big enough for a dog half way along. At her end of the wall there was a pair of larger alcoves, each with a padded section of floor. Animal lay in one of these, leaning against the wall and watching the mare through half closed eyes. 

She looked back at the surgical robot with its highly adjustable restraint system, then back at the alcoves. Those restraints could easily expand far enough to hold a pony. Her headache came back with redoubled force. Wincing, she folded her legs and lay down in one of the alcoves opposite Animal, wishing that they were big enough that she could lie next to him. That comfort denied her, she did her best to recapture her previous state of mind. "The Masters are the paws of the Maker," she muttered, reaching out with her magic to turn off the lights.

===

She stood behind an instrument panel, looking out over the animal house; on the panel was a single button. Instead of being empty, the room now held several dozen ponies and a single Master. She knew all these ponies; some were from her workplace, but most were from the corral. Silent and motionless, all were lined up in front of the surgical robot. The Master, faceless behind a set of visored medical robes, turned in her direction and nodded.

She reached out and tapped the button with one hoof. 

The machine leapt into action, reaching out with chrome steel arms to grab the closest pony. The mare -- she thought it was Random -- stared back at Gravity with blank eyes, not protesting as the machine took her apart. The dismemberment was fast and bloodless; it was only a moment before the robot was ready for its next patient.

She pressed the button again. 

And again.

And again.

Soon the room was empty of ponies. "I have finished, Master," she said, turning to the robed figure.

The Master leaned forward slightly. "There is one left," she said in an interested, slightly excited, tone.

Gravity bowed slightly, then trotted over to the machine. How could I forget? she thought, reaching back to the panel with her magic. She pressed the button one last time, closing her eyes as the steel arms reached for her.

Gravity gasped, whimpering quietly as the details of the nightmare faded to leave nothing more than a lingering sense of horror. Something had awoken her, the feeling that something big and powerful was standing just behind her. Eyes wide in the darkness she opened her shadow sight, staring out into the dark and silhouetted universe. She'd not actually bothered to look at this place, but it was sure to be similar to the launch site she'd been working at before Fusion had suffered her accident. The place would be a three dimensional pattern of coloured glows from all the active crystals; most stationary but a few mobile ones from vehicles or ponies. 

This was the case, but somewhere far below -- maybe a hundred lengths away -- there was a point of white light that was brighter than the rest. From this position, Gravity could see the arc of the main accelerator tunnel, pulsing and seeming to writhe like a titanic snake dusted with fireworks, curving off out beyond the range of her shadow sight. The pin-point was placed right at the end of a tangent that jutted out from the ring. That light, Gravity thought, I recognise that, it's my sister!

As she watched, the light got brighter, so bright that the others surrounding it seemed to dim in comparison. Gravity moaned in distress; she could actually feel a tickle of sensation from the magic being employed, something that should only have been possible if she were much closer. Fusion is losing control again, she thought, and this time there's nothing I can do to help her. The mare watched helplessly, tears starting to prick at her eyes, as the glare flared to an intolerable brightness, then vanished behind a rapidly expanding bubble of rainbow light.

In a second, the bubble had swept over and past her, leaving an almost complete darkness in its wake. As the mare watched, open mouthed, the bubble rolled out beyond the range of her shadow sight, leaving only a few scattered pin points and... Gravity swept her senses back around and was nearly dazzled. Right at the centre of the bubble was a single point of pure white light, as if someone had compressed the sun and placed it at the centre of a black universe. "Still alive," she whispered, almost overwhelmed with joy. Something in the room popped and fizzed, but the mare ignored it.

One of the remaining pin-points, this one a deep red and close enough that it could be resolved into the shape of a horn, flickered and grew brighter. "Did you see that, Animal?" Gravity said to the stallion, opening her real eyes and looking worriedly at the other pony, now illuminated by the red glow of his horn. There were no other lights in the room; even the little glows from the instrumentation were gone. She sniffed the air. Is that smoke?

"I did," he said, "was that Fusion again?"

"I think so, but it didn't feel the same as last time. She's definitely still alive, too." The mare climbed to her hooves and trotted to the door. "What should we do? We were ordered to stay..."

Animal snorted. "Yes, we were, but I think this event supersedes those orders. Everything with a magically active crystal is dead, do you agree?" He trotted to stand next to the blue mare, little red glows lighting the door control panel as he tried to operate it. His muzzle twitched. "There's no telling how many small fires this has started. Masters are in danger."

The mere mention of risk to Masters ran through Gravity like an electric shock. "Then what are we waiting for?" Her horn lit up, flooding the room with violet light, then the door creaked and bulged. The sound of crystal bells filled the air, red plains of light pulsing around the rim of the door. The mare staggered back as the force she was applying suddenly became unnecessary, and the centre of the door pulled free. The slab of metal, edges now razor sharp and glittering mirror bright in the red and violet horn light, hung between the two ponies for a second before Gravity propped it up against one wall.

"You need to save your strength, my filly. There are plenty of doors in this facility," Animal said with a smile.

Gravity nodded and set her jaw, stepping delicately through the opening and into the smoke scented darkness beyond.  

===

Ten kiloseconds later and Gravity was working with one of the emergency response teams to free up their own servitors for more specialised work. Under guidance from a female Master, she had broken down nearly twenty doors and escorted a near endless stream of Masters to the muster station set up at the transit hub serving the Institute. The main corridors were now lit by portable lighting rigs, but most of the rooms and side passageways were still dark, a scattered few glowing green from chem lights. At the moment the mare stood in a smashed elevator shaft, the doors removed and the lift capsule jammed in place to form an unstable platform for her to stand on.

Desperately tired, Gravity sagged against the greasy tracks running down the sides of the shaft. Her head buzzed, horn light flickering and threatening to leave her in darkness. A blunt muzzled face, made pale by caked dust, leant forward, yellow slit pupil eyes staring into her own. "Master," she gasped, "are there more packages to transport through the shaft?"

"Yes," the Master rumbled, sounding almost as tired as she felt, "but not for a while and not by this pony."

"I can still work," Gravity said listlessly, wings drooping.

"Really?" the Master said with a weary smile. "This one doesn't doubt that the pony would try, but suspects that this pony would drop the next package, no matter what its intentions."

The blue mare opened her mouth to protest, then slumped. "Yes, Master," she said in a small voice, eyes starting to water and wincing from a sudden headache that felt like a drill was being pushed into the side of her head, "I'm sorry I'm not strong enough."

The Master laughed and clapped Gravity on her withers. "The pony has done very well. Go to the transit hub and rest, eat something. The pony will be called when it can help again."

"Yes, Master," Gravity said with a sudden smile, the pain replaced with a joy so pure and intense that it almost rendered her speechless. She staggered upright and flared her wings; looking up at the distant circle of light marking the upper entrance to the shaft she sighed and crouched, ready to spring into the air. One quick downstroke and Gravity was airborne, moving her wings in short, quick beats to avoid striking the walls. The shaft was a wide one, designed for the transport of heavy equipment, easily wide enough for the mare, had she not been so tired.

Gravity flew an unsteady spiral around the centre of the tube, occasionally swerving to avoid the walls as she rose. The elevator mechanism used nothing so primitive as cables, relying instead on induction motors in tracks on the walls. As Gravity climbed up the shaft her circles grew wider and more ragged, until she finally misjudged a turn and clipped one of the tracks. The metal edge struck the big tendon running along the front of her wing, causing the limb to close in reflex.

Immediately, Gravity rolled sharply, struck the concrete wall of the shaft and bounced off to tumble back down the darkened tube. The mare shrieked in shock, fatigue washed away in an instant by a rush of adrenaline. Her horn flashed violet for a second before her strength ran out, but it was just enough to shove her away from the rushing concrete and metal. Gravity flicked open her wings and stopped the tumble, turning a headlong fall into a tight spiral glide. Using the dregs of her strength she started to slowly climb once more, breathing fast and trying to keep her head clear. 

Finally the lip of upper opening came within her reach. The big doors had never been fully retracted; with only a one length opening cut through their centre, she'd have to fold her wings to get through. Gravity launched herself at it, but misjudged her fading strength and fell slightly short, her hind legs dangling over the lip. The breath woofed out of her as her belly thumped down on to the concrete, hooves scrabbling for purchase on the smooth surface. In reflex, the mare extended her wings as if to fly, but instead merely jammed them against the edges of the force field cut opening. 

Her rearwards slide halted, she used her wings to lever her body forward, finally dragging her hind legs clear of the lethal drop. Gasping, Gravity lay there for a second to catch her breath, then slowly climbed to her hooves. Wincing, she stretched and refolded her wings, sharp stinging sensations marking where the razor sharp door edges had sliced easily through the thin flesh, her blood making the dusky blue feathers stick together and feel heavy. Shaking her head she glared at the green-lit corridor, empty of anypony who could have helped her. The mare limped down the corridor and grumbled to herself, heading for the transit hub.

===

Mentally exhausted, Fusion walked with the group of Masters back towards the transit hub. As was normal, the Masters ignored her, assuming she'd follow them like a pet dog. This suited the mare just fine, allowing her to sort through the tangled mess of emotions she was trying to keep hidden behind a blank face as the Masters talked. What else did they have planned for me? she thought, the sudden memory of that scorch mark on the beam chamber wall bringing Korn's comment about 'completed research' into a new light. 

...and my sister might have been next on their list. A sensation of sick, yawning horror made her swallow heavily. There was never any chance to survive the experiments; they were going to test me to destruction, then move on to Gravity. Under the bandage, her eye started to ache as the local anaesthetic began to wear off. In her mind Fusion started to sort the Masters she knew by their attitude and how dangerous they might be. Vanca she placed in the same group as the Agent. Salrath was a dangerous, vicious, sadistic individual and obviously didn't like ponies, but at least with her it was personal; at some level they mattered to her. With the Academician they were just a means to an end.

As they stepped through another force field cut door, being careful to avoid the razor sharp edges, the smell of smoke started to become noticeable. Another dozen paces and the air had turned a little hazy, the mare's horn light filling the corridor with a pearly radiance. Remaining eye starting to smart a little from the acrid fumes, Fusion squinted, but even with the smoke she was able to see the black streaks of soot spread across the ceiling from the doorway just ahead. The door had obviously been smashed open to get at a fire -- probably only a kilosecond ago -- and Fusion found herself kicking through shallow puddles of dirty foam.

The damage was far worse than she had imagined; her little stunt had probably injured a number of Masters, trapping them behind powered doors when the thaumoelectric pulse had killed every semiconductor junction and every magically active crystal in the area. She remembered how much panic she'd felt when she'd accidentally kicked Student Korn, only a few kiloseconds ago. Am I a murderer now? she thought, fighting to keep her breathing steady. 

It became worse when the little group reached one of the corridor junctions. In this larger space were the remains of a hastily assembled aid station -- currently empty of Masters, but crewed by two ponies. The pair, so dirty that Fusion couldn't identify their fur colours, lay flank to flank in a hoof-deep layer of sooty foam, oblivious to the cold water that would be soaking into their coats from the degrading suppressant. The ponies, a mare and a stallion, were missing patches of fur from all the parts of their bodies that Fusion could see, and had next to no hair on their manes. Ponies too, the mare thought, her ears flattening. How many were injured because of me, putting themselves into harm's way for Masters that might sacrifice them to save a piece of equipment? Is anything worth this suffering?

On seeing the group of Masters approach, the mare nudged her partner and both struggled to their hooves. The ponies were obviously exhausted; with drooping wings and trembling legs they bowed unsteadily to Salrath as she strode up to them. "Apologies, Master. How may we be of service?" the stallion said, speech degenerating into a hacking cough.

The Agent looked them over disapprovingly, waving her chem light around like a baton. "Clean this place up. What would have happened if this one had required medical attention?"

Both ponies winced in unison, teeth clenching and muscles going taught as the Blessing did what it was designed to do. "Many apologies, Master," the mare gasped, "we will start work immediately."

"See that you do," Salrath said, watching the pair desperately start to remove the waste that had accumulated around the empty gurneys. Her lips peeled back in a slight smile, then she turned away and walked to the next corridor on their route.  

Fusion watched the little scene play out from the back of the group, wishing yet again that she'd been able to do something permanent to Salrath when she'd had the chance. Her guilt faded, washed away by her returning anger at the Master and her casual, almost routine, cruelty. Even without her newfound strength it would be easy to kill the Agent. She could telekinetically crush her, or pick up some discarded tool and propel it at terrible speed through her body. Maybe a force field materialised inside her skull, or... but no, it would have to look like an accident. More telekinesis then; trip her up and make sure she lands on something pointed.

That's actually very tempting, the mare thought, no longer shocked at her own desire to do something terminal to Salrath. She could feel her power building, feel the spell patterns forming in her mind, knew that if she switched to magic sight she'd be able to see the latent potential closing in on the Agent like a vengeful ghost. With an effort of will, Fusion suppressed the violent urges, turning back to the other ponies.

Ears flat, she stared at the pair as they stumbled around the improvised aid station, their horn light feeble and flickering as they operated at the ragged limits of their magical endurance. Fusion lit her own horn, quickly dismantling and stacking a collection of disposable supply cases for the ponies, earning a nod of thanks from the stallion. There's unlikely to be anyone else coming, she thought, otherwise the medical staff would still be here. Fusion clenched her teeth and walked stiff legged after the Masters, already a few paces ahead, then stopped short when she noticed Korn staring at her.

"Master?" she said hesitantly. Does he know what I'm thinking? the mare thought, suddenly worried for her own safety. He's worked with me far more than Vanca has, he must know pony body language. Her mind flashed back to how Korn had asked after her mental state after the night in medical isolation. 

"Keep up, servitor," he said loudly, motioning her forward. As the mare obediently trotted a few steps to catch up, he muttered a few words as she passed. "Korn will tell rescue command to relieve the ponies; he suspects they have been forgotten in the confusion."

Fusion blinked in surprise, then nodded shallowly in thanks, trying to let her ears settle into a more relaxed position. I'm going to have to be more careful, she thought, if Korn can pick up on my feelings, then who else could? Salrath had undoubtedly seen ponies in stressful situations before; was that one of the things that made her suspect me? Fusion had put it down to the Agent's seemingly bottomless reserves of prejudice, but now she wasn't so sure. 

===

Gravity knew when she'd reached the transit hub by the amount of noise. The cavernous space was a seething mass of Masters and ponies, the damaged levitation tracks being used to ferry equipment in and cycle the emergency teams out. She gazed helplessly around the giant chamber, looking for somepony to tell her what to do next. They said I would be called for when they needed me, she thought, panic starting to rise within her. How will they be able to find me in all this when I don't have a communicator? 

Spying a small aid station staffed entirely by ponies, she limped over and joined a queue of other walking wounded waiting patently to be seen. A few seconds later she was smiling in relief as a yellow pony with a labour tattoo like a cluster of blood drops took her name and entered it into a portable terminal.

"Ah ha!" the yellow stallion said, "we've been told to look out for you. Here, this came in with the last resupply run."

He lifted a flat container about the size of her hoof in a haze of yellow magic, releasing it when her own horn started to glow faintly. The blue mare was still exhausted and her magic clumsy with overuse, but she managed to crack the seal and slide out the bronze disk it contained. "At last," she breathed, turning the communicator over in her telekinesis, waiting for the crystal in the centre of the disk to signal its recognition of her magic. Finally it did so, and she pressed the hook lined underside to the fur at the base of her throat. A feeling of completeness flowed over her, as the arcane mechanism announced its acceptance of her with a quiet voice that was only audible in her own head.

She listened intently as it recited her current orders, confirming her temporary assignment to rescue command and restating her instructions to wait in the transit hub until otherwise contacted. Gravity nodded, humming wordlessly with pleasure at being reconnected with the labour system, almost able to forget the aches and pains of her body. 

"Hello, Gravity," said a familiar, if tired, voice. "Is it just the wings?"

Gravity blinked and refocused her eyes on the red and white stallion who was studying her intently. "Animal! You were right, we were needed. Yes, I had an accident with the edge of a door and a lift shaft."

The veterinarian's ears flicked up in curiosity at that, then smiled at the relief in the mare's voice. "Of course we were. Can you open your wings a little so I can get a better look?"

Gravity nodded, then winced as the still wet scabs over her cuts broke and fresh blood sluggishly trickled down each leading edge to drip off her wing elbows. She'd managed to forget those razor fine cuts; they hadn't bled significantly but there was still enough blood to glue the feathers and fur together. Little disks of red light swept along the matted feathers on each wing as the stallion examined her.

"They are worse than they look," Animal said, stopping his scan and looking seriously at the mare. "I take it you haven't tried to fly after receiving these?"

"No," said Gravity, suddenly feeling worried.

"That's fortunate; you have a hair-line fracture in your left radius."

The mare nodded, a shiver running through her. Must have been the force field cut lift doors, she thought, lucky they were sliced square or I could have lost the wing. 

"Let me guess," Animal said quietly. "You were tired, needed to pull yourself through a doorway, but your magic failed."

"Something like that," Gravity muttered, hanging her head. I would be useless if I could not fly, she thought, remembering her foalhood teacher, Back Draft.

"There's no shame in telling your Master that you are too tired to work efficiently. Remember that it is their job to determine the urgency of your tasks; if they need you to keep going, they will tell you. They will be displeased if you injure yourself unnecessarily."

The blue mare's eye's filled with tears, pain starting to build in her head as she digested what Animal was telling her. "You're right, I hadn't thought of it that way. Will they forgive me?"

"You are a good pony," Animal said, reaching for a squeeze bottle of water and a wad of wipes, "and you are young and still learning. That is all the Masters ask of us."

Gravity bore the stinging pain stoically as Animal cleaned the narrow cuts, sighing quietly as the pain in her head vanished. The Maker has forgiven me, she thought, happy again and barely noticing the bone deep itching as the stallion started to cast a healing spell, welding her fracture closed. 

A few hundred seconds later the veterinarian switched his gaze back to her face, the light of his horn fading.

"You are good to go," he said, "the damage was subtle and required only a little manipulation. Go and rest now." He gestured towards a group of ponies -- many asleep -- sitting on a patch of floor behind the aid station. "There's somepony who'd be glad of your company."

Gravity looked along the line of his wing, gaze jumping immediately to a white mare with a pink mane. Her sudden joy at seeing her sister unharmed was tempered by the look of misery on the other pony's face. "Is she alright?"

"Physically she has a non life threatening injury that we can fix with a bit of specialist care. What she really needs is somepony to talk to. Go on, I've got to see to the rest of my patients."

=== 

Fusion stared at her new communicator where it lay on the dirty floor between her forehooves, trying to come to terms with what she would have to do if she wanted to remain free. Even this one act hurt People and ponies, she thought, trying to keep her mind away from the collection of injured ponies she sat with. Many more will suffer. Is it worth it? She tried to be objective; thinking about the already large numbers of her kind dying every megasecond, directly and indirectly, at the paws of the Masters. It's one thing to plan a revolution, another to sit in the middle of the suffering it will cause. 

She cast her gaze about the large room, taking in the injuries around her, before stopping to stare at a filthy mare walking tiredly towards her. Fusion immediately felt even more guilty; the poor creature was covered in dust and grime, the only sign of her true coat colour were the little patches of blue where the vet had cleaned her leading edge feathers, before sealing a series of cuts or scratches. Blue? Fusion thought, looking more closely. There was a patch of darker fur just visible on the mare's hindquarters, with a lighter curved mark in the middle. 

"Gravity?" Fusion said, turning her head to keep her bad eye facing away from the approaching mare. Her ears flattened; it was her sister. What have I done? she thought, insides twisting, as Gravity lay down next to her with a relieved sigh. Overloaded with guilt, she froze as the other pony leaned sideways to rest her head against Fusion's own.

"I'm so glad you made it, when I felt the magic, I thought you'd..." Gravity trailed off, suddenly aware of Fusion's stiff muscles and wide eye. "What's wrong?"

"I'm s-sorry, Grav, I didn't mean to hurt you." The panic distorted Fusion's voice, turning it into a harsh whisper.

"Hurt me?" the blue mare repeated, confused. "You're not saying you did this on purpose, are you?"

Staring into the large teal eyes of a pony she loved, Fusion opened her mouth to tell her sister everything, then looked past those trusting eyes to the thing that sat behind them. Like a worm in an apple, she thought, bending its host to their Master's will. A terrible wave of loneliness washed over the mare. There's not a single creature on this world I can talk to. Sister or not, she'd report me, she'd have no choice. Fusion slowly closed her mouth and shook her head mutely. It would kill her if she had to do that... and there are the other ponies to consider. All around her, heads were turning in their direction, curious expressions on everypony within earshot.

"Of course not, you were just doing what you were ordered to do. Does the Maker blame you?" 

Fusion shook her head again. "No, I received no punishment." Somewhere deep inside, a part of her knew she'd done a great wrong and cried out for the pain that should have wracked her body. Cringing slightly, the mare tried to understand why Gravity didn't blame her for all this chaos, deciding that it all boiled down to a simple act of faith; she hadn't been punished by the Maker, thus what she'd done must be according to some great plan beyond the comprehension of a simple pony.

"There you go then," Gravity said firmly, then yawned mightily. Twisting to look down the length of her own body she flinched at the sight of her grease, dust and blood caked fur and feathers, then let out a gasp as she finally saw the new mark on Fusion's hind quarters. "Oh, that's pretty! Did it appear when you...?"

Fusion smiled back at the mare, lifted out of her guilt by Gravity's simple joy at seeing her finally get her labour tattoo. She really doesn't blame me, she thought. "It must have, I didn't feel a thing at the time." Fusion reached out with her magic and pulled over one of the grooming kits at the edge of the aid station. "Here, you rest. Let me give you a brush down," she said, lifting out a curry comb and a set of preening tongs.

===

Gravity sighed in satisfaction, eyes half closed, as Fusion worked the comb through her coat. Feeling distinctly drowsy, she extended one wing slightly to let the preening tongs slip between her feathers, separating and rejoining the barbules to remove the worst of the dirt. "What happened to your face?" she mumbled. She'd noticed the little square dressing covering her sister's left eye, but Fusion had looked so distressed when she'd seen her that Gravity hadn't mentioned it. The relaxing sensations of the brush suddenly stopped.

"Explosion. Ceramic splinter from a damaged instrument," Fusion said after a long pause. "Too much damage. They can't fix it here, so I think I'm going to be in the infirmary for a few nights."

The blue mare winced in sympathy. Simple repairs like her wing fracture were easy -- there was no need to get the microstructure of the bone exactly the way it was before an injury. An eye was a different matter; the highly complex tissue would require long and difficult magics to restore, the patent having to be immobilised for tens of kiloseconds while the spell worked.

"Hey, do you want to hear something funny?" Fusion said, starting to move the brush again, running it in long sweeps down Gravity's back.

"Sure," the other mare said, half closing her eyes again. She knew her sister well, well enough to recognise when she was changing the subject to avoid some unpleasant truth. I wonder what really happened? she thought.

"After my little performance, Academician Vanca said they should start calling me 'Celestia.' "

She didn't say it loudly, but half a dozen highly mobile ears had flicked around and were now following their conversation with interest. Out of the corner of one eye, Gravity noticed her sister wince at the sudden attention, ears drooping in embarrassment. She turned her head and looked at the white mare with wide, innocent eyes. "A Master said you should be called Celestia?" she asked loudly, trying to suppress a smile as Fusion reflexively half raised her wings to cover her face. More ears turned in their direction and they were now the centre of attention.

Fusion mock growled back at her. "Watch it, moon filly," she said, prodding the white crescent of Gravity's labour tattoo with the preening tongs, "or I'll call you 'Luna' from now on."

Gravity giggled, then started to feel a little bad about the teasing. Anything involving the Masters was treated with utmost seriousness; even if all the ponies here realised the comment was in jest, the fact remained that a Master had called her sister 'Celestia'. She'd never escape the nickname now. Gravity watched emotions play across Fusion's face; there was the expected chagrin and reluctant humour, but there was also worry and an expression of deep thought. Finally the white head nodded slowly a couple of times, as if Fusion had reached some important, but difficult, decision.

"Have you received any orders for tomorrow yet?" she said, gesturing at the communications disk nestled in the thick grey-blue fur at the base of Gravity's throat.

"No, just ones for today."

"I think I may know what you'll be doing while I'm resting up," Fusion said slowly. "I've worked out how I did what I did. How does me showing you how to do it sound?"

The blue mare's sudden squeal of delight echoed from the high roof, attracting glances from ponies on the other side of the transit hub. Fusion smiled in return, but Gravity wasn't paying attention. If she had been, she might have noticed that her sister' expression was unaccountably sad.

===
Author's note:
Happy Hearth Warming everypony! I hope you enjoyed your present.
I'd like to thank you all for reading and commenting; all the feedback and encouragement has done wonders for my writing confidence. I probably wouldn't have made it this far without you (certainly not this fast, anyway).

PS: don't forget to hit that 'thumbs up' button if you like this story (you must do, you're still reading after thirteen chapters!).
> 14 - A Little Knowledge... 
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist


=== Chapter 14 (remastered): A Little Knowledge... ===


Salrath pulled off her visor and carefully ran her claws through the short fur of her muzzle and head. She slouched in the little chair, long legs jammed in the too-small knee hole the command vehicle provided for operators of the comms and surveillance banks. Things were starting to calm down now; after the first few frantic kiloseconds -- trying to sweep the gutted building for any of the People trapped behind failed doors, sealing off sections against the ever-rising tide of nitrogen, coordinating with the rescue teams putting out the several hundred small fires -- everyone knew what they were supposed to be doing.

As soon as she'd reached the transit centre, she'd discovered that she was the highest ranking Security officer on site, and thus the de facto head of operations -- which, as she freely admitted to herself, was ridiculous. Salrath is a field agent, she thought, if this is what promotion gets you, Security Command can keep it. Despite her lack of experience with this kind of high level administration, she found that everyone was very eager to do her bidding. Who says Security's carefully cultivated reputation is a waste of time? she thought, remembering the looks of fear on some of the People's faces. Perhaps there was something to be said for this, after all...

The downside was the sheer amount of screenwork that was required. Even with the expert systems, after she'd directed the various specialist teams in their tasks -- or more accurately, listened to their plans and told them to 'carry on' -- and allocated the always scarce servitor resources between the teams, she'd spent the rest of the time at this cramped desk writing summaries and reports. That's quite enough of that, she thought, stretching one arm to its full extent and yawning wide enough that her jaw clicked. 

She reached out with the other paw and rooted around in the overhead locker, grinning in satisfaction when she located a small, slightly squishy package amid the debris of cables, plastic wrapping and assorted trash that always accumulated during these kinds of operations. Giving the pack a shake to settle its contents, she ripped the top off with her teeth and started to tap commands on the control panel with her free paw, then dropped the interface crown on her head.

‘Work-life balance’ my tail, she thought, remembering the tedious Synod sponsored employment rights training sessions and leaning back against the headrest with a sigh, but at least we get good equipment. The crystals in the crown started to glow with a subtle, ever changing hue, filling the inside of the command vehicle's cabin with a pastel radiance. The slight pressure of the headset faded from her awareness as Salrath closed her eyes, the random flickers of light behind her eyelids condensing into a perfect view of the transit station from a point near the roof. 

She was a weightless wisp of presence, able to direct her attention in any direction she chose. The whole area had now been seeded with clairvoyance anchors -- pretty much the first thing that Security had done was send a flock of drones buzzing along all the corridors they could get in to, sticking the small crystals at every intersection -- and she could move her viewpoint anywhere within these bounds.

Eyes still closed, Salrath poked the end of the cured meat snack into her mouth, jaws champing rhythmically at the leathery food, the coating of spices making her tongue tingle. Everything looked okay; the various rescue and emergency teams had mostly pulled out, replaced by specialist groups of engineers assessing the degree of damage and determining what it would take to get the installation up and running again. There was no doubt that the accelerator tunnel would be repaired -- this was only one small segment of the horizon-spanning ring -- but the future of this particular group of laboratories would likely be decided at the next budgetary interval. 

What interested Salrath was the number of servitors returning with the rescue teams. She had no interest in their welfare, but she'd been made aware of a large number of irate messages coming in from the owner/ operators of the commandeered animals, and wanted to see what had happened to them. A certain number of fatalities were expected during this kind of operation, but less than thirty of the two hundred-odd ponies had actually returned to the transit hub. The loss of almost ninety percent of the creatures would have a significant impact on the local industries -- something that would reflect very badly on her as site commander.

Her viewpoint flickered along one of the main corridors, past a blue servitor with bleeding wings coming the other way, and darted through the rat's nest of service corridors until she found one of the engineering assessment groups. There were a group of People and a single servitor, the creature's horn glowing a deep orange as it did something arcane to a scorched equipment panel, while the engineers hooked complex equipment to the crystals inside. 

Back at the command vehicle, Salrath frowned. There should have been at least three other servitors in this area -- there had been a particularly nasty fire started in a chemical storeroom, which she knew must have been extinguished, otherwise the assessment team wouldn't be here -- along with the People they were assisting, none of whom had yet returned. She cast around, finally locating the hazmat specialists with their servitors, all crowded into a relatively undamaged office a few rooms away.

The group were all slumped in various attitudes of fatigue, covering the floor of the small room with a disordered tangle of legs, wings, bodies and equipment. There was no separation between the People and their servitors; one of the engineers was apparently asleep with her head on the flank of a sooty pony, while the second servitor, itself in a state of near sleep, rested its chin on the shoulder of another of the People. 

Salrath's muzzle wrinkled in distaste. The only servitor still fully awake, a bleary eyed mare with a nasty looking burn on the end of her muzzle, was trying to open a container of water, but her horn only flickered dimly and she didn't seem to have the power to open the cap, let alone lift the bottle to drink from it. The Agent's mood lifted at the creature's obvious difficulty, immediately turning back to annoyance as the engineer sprawled next to the pony pulled out his own mess kit and poured the contents of the bottle into it, holding it up so the servitor could drink.

The view disappeared as Salrath yanked the headset from her scalp, the sudden disconnection leaving her dizzy and with crawling patches of colour covering everything she looked at. Undoubtedly that little scene was being played out at many locations; she had the information she needed, but her good mood had vanished. Grumbling slightly, the Agent turned back to the console and called up the next item in the never ending task list of decisions she had to authorise. One in particular caught her eye, 'servitor thaumic medical referrals.'

This was a list of the servitors requiring more treatment than the basic aid stations could supply; they would be shipped out to medical centres for specialist treatment by others of their kind. Obviously the People came first; this disaster, lab accident, or whatever it would be called, had caused mass casualties, most of which had already been distributed between the local hospitals. This being the case, there was now spare capacity to start treating the servitors.

Scanning the task's details, she ran her eye down the list of designations and injuries. In the top quarter of the list was an injury she recognised. "Suspected fragmentation injury, full globe penetration by sharp instrument, possible retinal damage," the Agent muttered to herself, "Salrath knows that name. That is a pony that needs to understand that actions have consequences."

She smiled nastily at the list of names and reached out with one claw. A few quick commands later and she'd shifted Fusion's name to the bottom of the list.

===

When Fusion finally worked up the nerve to activate her own communications disk, she found that her orders were as expected; return to her home corral when given leave to do so by the local veterinarian and have her injuries treated. By this point she'd been waiting in the recovery area for almost forty kiloseconds, long enough to get Gravity's coat back to its normal state, and long enough to get at least some rest. If it wasn't for the comfortingly warm bulk of her sister she probably wouldn't have been able to sleep at all; as it was, she was constantly jolted awake by nightmares of silent ponies, all horribly burned, looking at her with pleading eyes.

After waking for the fourth time, eye wide and breath coming in great gasps, she decided not to try sleeping again. Extending one wing over Gravity's back, the white mare stared at the bustling transit hub through one half lidded eye, looking for all the world like she was half asleep. Inside, however, her mind was racing, trying to discover a way to determine the fate of Random and the rest of the foals from the training centre incident. She’d had some time to talk to Mach Front, the Security pony from the training ground, while Salrath was making sense of the chaos at the improvised emergency centre. He hadn't had any direct contact with them; he'd only escorted them as far as the service entrance before passing them over to another Agent. 

That had led to the only real bit of good news; on his flight out he’d seen a group of ponies matching the foal’s description, so they hadn't been moved from the Security facility. The real problem would be what to do next. This particular site was the sector Internal Security hub; from there the Masters monitored the behaviour of almost five percent of the teeming millions that made up Lacunae Hive. Mach Front had been proud of the work he helped with and, like any pony, been very willing to talk about it. He knew only a little about the internal layout, as he was mostly a field operative, but it was clear that the site was highly defendable and only had a few ways in or out. 

A crazy plan started to form in Fusion's head. There was no way to sneak in -- the place must hold thousands of Masters and operate around the clock -- but if she could get in, it would be possible to do what she'd done to the Anomalous Physics Institute and trash every bit of electronic or thaumic hardware in the place. After that it would be easy to find the foals -- they would be the only operating magic sources left. Get them, and escape would actually be easier than getting in; most of the security response would be staged out of that site and without computer support this would be chaotic at best.

Surely they’d all have better things to do than watch a group of harmless foals? she thought. ...and I would need privacy to convince them to come with me, to get them somewhere where I can remove the Blessing. Fusion whimpered quietly, her ears flattening, as the scale of the task threatened to overwhelm her. With an effort of will, she clamped down on her emotions before Gravity could do more than flick an ear at the quiet sound.

All the mare's planning came crashing to a halt in the face of the one problem she had no answer to: where could she hide them? No, she thought, focus. First I need to free one other pony. With that, Fusion closed her eye and opened her shadow sight. The dark world was as expected; the makeshift staging area was a glowing island in the midst of a black ocean, the only evidence of life in the deeps a few crawling glows of ponies or Masters carrying crystal thaumic devices. 

The mare turned her gaze downwards to the top of her sister's head, staring past the dim violet glow of her horn and into the dark cavern of her skull. When she'd been with the foals, her horror at what the Blessing was had made it hard to think clearly; this time she was prepared and knew what she was looking for. What gave the spell away was the colour -- Gravity's magic had a characteristic blue-violet hue, but here was something that glowed a sick, fluorescent green. A fine network of fibres that spread through Gravity's brain like fungal threads, so faint that they were almost lost against the other mare's magical background.

The more she stared, the more she could see, locating the little tendrils that passed down her sister's spine and branched off to her heart and lungs. Fusion watched Gravity's ribs expand and contract as the mare breathed, finally spotting what she'd been looking for. That thread pulsed in time with the movements of her sister's chest. Fusion cursed silently. I didn't imagine it then, she thought, her fear returning at what this thing was doing. If I tamper with the spell it will stop her from breathing. The mare paused, suddenly struck by a revelation. Wait, that can't be right...

Fusion's jaw dropped and her muzzle split in a wide grin. The thaumic suppressor, she thought, if the Blessing really controlled the heart and lungs, everypony would have died the instant it was turned on. So what in the Maker's name is it for -- and how did it survive the suppressor in the first place? She thought back to when her own Blessing was active; the chest pains and headaches. Then she had it. It's a feedback system! The Masters don't want the Blessing to kill us, this lets the spell regulate the pain, makes it as intense as possible without causing physical harm. Her grin grew savage, fear evaporating at this significant triumph. I can do it, I really can!

She was still examining the spell in her sister's head, when a tired-looking Animal Scanner walked up to the pair of them. After a quick examination of Gravity's freshly healed wing, he asked the blue mare to step away for a few moments, then sat down in front of Fusion with a sigh. 

“Hold still, please,” he said, his horn glowing crimson as he closed his eyes. He let out another sigh, then stopped his scanning spell and studied the white mare’s face. “You’ve not suffered too much degeneration, which is something. I had recommended you for earlier treatment, but I guess there must have been other priority cases. Your own medic -- Spiral Fracture, I believe -- will be able to handle your treatment. She’s expecting you first thing tomorrow.”

Fusion nodded dumbly at this. ”Is the delay going to cause any problems?”

Animal’s ears drooped slightly. “Honestly? It might. Don’t get me wrong,” he said hastily, seeing her expression, “it can be fixed, but the treatment time will be longer, with all that entails. Do you understand?”

Fusion slumped slightly, Salrath’s words coming back to her. This servitor needs its horn, not its eyes. She’d be fully healed, if -- and only if -- the resources were available and her Master was prepared to let her have the time to get the work done.

“I’m sorry,” Animal said softly, bowing his head, “I tried.” 

“Not your fault,” Fusion said, injecting a note of false cheerfulness into her voice. “Still, you never know, right?”

Animal smiled sadly back at her. “True. Anyway, you should go home and get some rest. Take it easy on the flight back, and keep an eye--“ Here the stallion winced at his own choice of words. “--sorry, on your sister for me, make sure she stops and rests if there are any problems.”

===

The pair of ponies flew slowly out of the local surface exit of the mass transit system with the rest of the departing servitors, keeping close the wall to avoid the continuous stream of worker ponies funnelling in to take part in the clean-up. The difference between the two groups of ponies was marked; the newcomers were all bright colours and energy, those leaving flew slowly and erratically, and were various shades of black and grey. There were also fewer of them, the rest waiting their turn on the bulk transports pulled by teams of less injured ponies. 

How many are going to be classed as 'beyond economical repair', Fusion thought, as she curved around a protruding ventilation duct, and never return to their families?

The sun had long set and, once they had left the brightly lit exit point, it took a few hundred seconds for the ponies' eyes to adjust to the darkness; fortunately both Luna and Grund were above the horizon, the pair of moons touching the land and clouds with silver. This was not the normal route Fusion took to and from the Institute; the site was large enough that it had its own entrances, but the damage she'd caused had jammed all the surface doors. Instead, they'd all been directed out along the transit system tunnels -- a slightly hazardous route, as the tunnels were still being used by emergency vehicles -- but at least these were much smaller than the normal transit cars and there was space to fly over the tops of them. It did mean that the flight home would take a bit longer, especially with Gravity favouring her recently healed wing.

The landscape unrolled beneath Fusion's wings, a patchwork quilt of forest interspersed with large scale farms that fed the animals that fed the teeming Masters. Here and there was another patch of light from a funnel shaped access point to the tunnel system that made up the buried part of the Hive, each one connected to the farms and other surface facilities by the silver threads of levitation tracks. Out to the horizon, in all directions, this pattern was repeated; as far as Fusion knew, this was the way it was everywhere within Lacunae territory. 

"Grav," Fusion called out, "how's the wing doing?"

Her sister's wing beats had grown further apart over the last few hundred seconds, the mare spending more time gliding than in powered flight. As Fusion watched, Gravity flapped her wings once more; the left was missing the smooth power of the right and seemed to jerk as it flexed for the upstroke. That hadn't been there during the first part of the flight.

"It's fine," the mare said doggedly, head held stiffly and not meeting her sister's gaze.

Fusion rolled her eyes at that. Stubborn as always, she thought. "Well I'm not. I want to take a breather," she said, gesturing towards one of the puffy clouds that dotted the sky. There was no sign of the weather team in this area; these clouds had most likely been not worth collecting and had been left to provide a little shade for the next day. They were small, slow moving things, a pale silver in the moonlight that marked them out as being unlikely to produce useful rain. At Gravity's reluctant nod, she set her wings to a glide and angled for the invitingly soft looking surface.

Cloud walking was not something Fusion often had a chance to try -- most of her work was in the subterranean laboratories of the Institute -- but it was an ability innate to all ponies, an instinctive magic that operated at an almost subconscious level. As the pair approached, the cloud's 'surface' condensed to a soft, but solid layer. At this close range it would have appeared as a diffuse fog to an aircraft or non magical flier; under the influence of the ponies' magic, the million million water droplets became a fluffy layer strong enough to support their weight. 

Flaring her wings, Fusion came to a graceful halt on the yielding surface, turning to watch as Gravity made her final approach. That her wing was only partially healed became more apparent in the final stages of landing; at this point it was necessary to flex one's wings vigorously to kill all forward velocity and maintain control over sink rate. The blue mare almost made it. 

The solidity of the cloud surface was an illusion; stand on a cloud in perfectly still air and you would still be falling, but with a terminal velocity governed by the vast surface area of the tiny droplets you were linked to. Each drop shared a minute portion of a pony's mass, so small that even the slightest updraft would be enough to them keep floating for as long as the cloud persisted. The magic was a tenuous thing, too much force and you'd break the connections and fall right through.

Gravity gasped loudly, a sudden expression of pain crossing her muzzle, as she flared for the landing. Wings suddenly going stiff, she hit the cloud too hard, sinking to her belly in the fluffy cloudstuff before the magic took hold. She glared at Fusion, working her legs to climb back up to the surface. "Not a word," she said fiercely.

"I wasn't going to say a thing," Fusion replied, trying -- and failing -- to keep the smile off her muzzle. "Still, I'm glad you didn't discover this when we got back to solid ground. As much as I enjoy your company, I don't need you to be with me in the infirmary."

Gravity sighed, carefully stretching her injured wing before refolding it. "I'll go for a galloping landing next time, but if you could...?"

"I'll be there to catch you, don't worry." Fusion yawned; she wasn't physically tired, but she did have the mental fuzziness that came with not getting enough sleep. Walking silently over to the cloud's edge she dropped carefully to her belly in the soft, supporting cloudstuff. A few moments later Gravity joined her, and the pair of mares stared out over the carefully maintained landscape in a companionable silence.

Fusion was the first to break the almost meditative state. "You've travelled more than I have; what's it like out at your launch site? Is it all like this?" she said, gesturing to the patchwork forest. It was hard to tell colour in this dim light, but she knew it was just starting to get into its autumnal amber and gold. Winter's coming, she thought, remembering the cold pre-dawn air from a few days ago, then returned her attention to Gravity as the other mare started to speak.

"I've only been out to a real launch site once; they're all too far for an easy daily flight. They took us over on the transit system; the entire route was underground so I didn't get to see much." The mare was silent for a few seconds, gazing out at the horizon. "Even when we got there the launch site was still five kiloseconds flight time from the local hub. I'll always remember the flight over; the sun was just coming up over the mountains and had left the valleys still in shadow, with just a touch of mist coating the trees." Gravity shook her head and yawned. "Very different from here, it looked completely wild."

"So no farms or industry at all?" Fusion asked, fascinated, hope kindling in her heart. 

"It was like we were completely alone in a world without the Masters." The blue mare shivered and edged closer to her sister. "It was horrible; I'd never seen such emptiness. Even with my shadow sight there was nothing." Gravity rolled one eye in Fusion's direction. "Why do you ask?"

"Just interested, I've never known anything other than this and the tunnels. The furthest I've been was that military base, and we didn't see much more than concrete there," Fusion said quietly. Makes sense, she thought, those launch sites are bound to be targets if we have any problems with a neighbouring Hive. You wouldn't put that sort of stuff in a populated area. The white mare inhaled deeply and sighed, the slight lift in her mood crushed. Even wilderness areas are occupied by someone -- the Masters own this entire world, there is no place we can go and be in peace.

"Sis..." Gravity started, twisting to look at Fusion with both eyes. "I know you've been through a lot this last megasecond. Is... is there anything you want to talk about?"

Fusion stared back at her sister, the temptation to tell her everything almost overwhelmingly strong. I could reach out now and break her Blessing, then I really would have somepony to talk to. The little voice was insidious, but she resisted the urge. This was not the place; she'd made enough rash actions, this time she'd do it right and not get caught. I need to stay alone for a little while longer. Fusion bit her lip, iron control finally slipping, her ears folding back and vision blurring as tears started to leak from the corners of her eyes. 

Gravity looked alarmed at the sudden change in her sister's expression. "Talk to me, please, I can see it's eating you up inside." She leaned forward to rest her neck against Fusion's, bringing her wings forward to enfold the white mare in a feathered embrace.

"I- I hurt so many of them, Grav. I even hurt you. I know you don't blame me -- but it's still my fault." Tears were rolling down Fusion's muzzle now, soaking into the dark blue fur next to Gravity's mane. She wept, not so much for the things she had done, but for the things she was going to have to do.

Gravity let the white mare cry, making soothing noises and stroking her back with one wing. Eventually, Fusion sniffed mightily and leaned back to break the embrace. Looking shamefaced, she brushed at the side of Gravity's neck where the fur had been turned a darker shade by her tears. "And I just got you all clean," she mumbled.

"I'll dry," her sister said, smiling gently. "Listen, it really isn't your fault. You just did what you had to do. You do know that, don't you?"

Fusion nodded slightly, not wanting to give word to the lie, and wiped at her muzzle with one foreleg. "It still hurts."

"That's because you're a good pony," Gravity said, climbing to her hooves. "Nopony will think less of you for that. Just do your best, that's all you can do. Come on, we should get going."

Fusion stood up next to her sister and fanned her wings in preparation for flight. Is that how they'll remember me? she thought bleakly, 'she did her best?' More likely as somepony to scare foals with. The mare grimaced and stepped off the edge of the cloud. 

===

The pair came in for a long, shallow landing on one of the grassed strips normally used for the infrequent pony powered transports that couldn't be brought down to a four-hoofed landing. Fusion shadowed Gravity in, horn glowing faintly with a whisper of telekinetic power that could be strengthened in an instant should the blue mare have a problem. The precaution wasn't necessary; Gravity made a textbook -- if a little hesitant -- landing, coming down at a gallop before dropping to a trot that took her to the shelter used by their family.

A diffuse ball of white light a hoof-span across floated out from under the roof, followed by the cream and red of Plasma Cascade and the turquoise and green of Helium Flash. It was obvious that neither of the sister's parents had been sleeping; their normally pristine coats looked unbrushed, and both had a haunted, hollow-eyed look. The older ponies stopped dead when the light fell on their daughters, unable to believe what they were seeing. 

Plasma broke the paralysis first, rushing forwards to wrap her wings around her daughters, followed almost immediately by Helium, who trotted up with a look of confused joy on his face. "Where have you been?" he whispered hoarsely, "when nopony returned from the training centre we feared the worst. Is... is it just you, there's nopony else?"

"We were at the Institute," Fusion said quietly. "My Master was eager for me to get back to work. The others..." Twenty four foals, an entire generation from the corral, force Blessed and flown to the sector headquarters of Maker-damned Internal Security. 

What am I going to tell them? Fusion thought, all those parents waiting up like Helium and Plasma for colts and fillies that never came home. Outrage was beginning to replace her fear for the future. They were told nothing, just left to wonder. Fusion took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. A muffled sob and some indistinct words caused her to glance at her sister; tears were making dark tracks through her blue fur. A lie then, for now. "...are being cared for by the Security service. There was a misunderstanding with a squad of gryphon soldiers and some ponies got hurt."

"But the Agent said--"

Fusion spoke loudly, overriding her sister. "I asked my Master and that's what I was told." He told me a lie, she thought, but it was what he said. "I should have told you before, forgot, sorry. The Agent was--" Fusion started, then paused to clamp down on her anger at Salrath. ...a vindictive sadist who wanted to hurt us to cause problems for her opposite number, she thought, before finishing her sentence. "--mistaken," she spat, earning a startled glance from Gravity.

While Fusion spoke, Plasma dropped her wings and stepped back, brightening her floating light and examining both mares with the practiced eye of a mother. Her ears drooped when she saw the fresh scars on Gravity's wings and Fusion's covered eye, then she gasped at the yellow and orange solar disk on the white mare's hips.

"You got your labour tattoo," she said faintly.

Fusion nodded dumbly, not trusting herself to speak as the image of paw holding a slim knife flashed across her mind. The mare coughed slightly, then blinked as her stomach audibly rumbled. "We should talk -- unless you want to get back to sleep?" she said hopefully, then continued as she caught her parent's expressions. "You get comfortable; we'll tell you everything we know." The mare beckoned her sister over to the facilities hub, then started to talk.

While she told her parents as much as she safely could -- leaving out the damning details of her own part in the affair -- she used her magic to help Gravity prepare a big tray of fruits and vegetables from the cold store. They'd quickly finished and Fusion was just about to take the tray over, when her sister pulled out another bowl and floated it towards the port that dispensed the Master's food.

Caught up in the story telling, Fusion had forgotten all about that particular ritual. Unbidden, her mouth filled with saliva at the thought of the stuff, and she had to resist the sudden urge to get her own portion. Ruthlessly suppressing the feeling, she smiled and deftly plucked the bowl out of the haze of violet magic. "I'll get that, you take the tray over. It's your turn to talk, anyway."

"Sure," the blue mare said, picking up the tray and starting on the story of what had happened to her after Fusion's 'accident'. 

Under cover of this activity she sought out the feed mechanism for the Master's food, then reached up the chute and snapped the drive shaft on the motor. Placing the bowl under the opening, she pressed the release key and smiled slightly when the machine emitted a nasty grinding noise and little else. "Looks like we've got a broken motor," she said, peering up into the mechanism. "We'll have to get Slipstream to take a look at it tomorrow, first thing." Slip, a golden stallion who used to work on the local weather team, had burnt out most of his magic trying to control an errant thunderstorm. Like their foalhood teacher, Back Draft, he was one of the few ponies who had found enough useful work to resist the urge to make that final trip to the infirmary.  

"But--" Gravity started.

"It's not long until dawn; if he can't fix it we'll ask at one of the other shelters." Fusion wasn't sure exactly why she distrusted the Master's food so much, but there had to be something in it that helped to control a pony. If I can just free Gravity from the Blessing I should be able to reason with her. She's been through almost as much as I have in these last few days, the white mare thought. Keeping her off that stuff might even help.

Fusion bit at the insides of her lips in worry. Will I be able to convince her? What will she do? In her heart, the white mare knew that this secret could not be kept forever, knew that at some point all this sneaking and stealth would spill over into very real violence. If I can’t convince my own sister, then I won’t be able to convince anypony, she thought finally. Words won't do it though, I need to show her. She reached for an apple while her sister started to talk about the emergency work she’d helped with.

The same spell that would copy Packet Switcher's memories to the archive could be used to share an experience with another pony. It was one of the things that Random had been gifted at -- when a foal was just starting out with magic, there was no easy way to train them without such a sharing. Fusion could probably remember how to cast it, but it would be useful to get a refresher... The tan and black mare would be just the pony to talk to.

Fusion listened with half an ear to Gravity, focussing her own thoughts inwards. She is the logical choice, I know the Institute's work is secret -- it has to be considering all the security doors and cameras -- and Random is already a prisoner. She couldn't tell anypony, even by accident. Fusion's insides twisted, the juicy apple slice turning to ashes in her mouth as she continued the chain of logic to its obvious conclusion. And I don’t think she’ll be getting out any time soon, if at all. If they let me see her I might be able to get some more information on the inside of the Security centre. Dare I ask?

No time like the present, she thought, crossing her forelegs to cover the little gem on her communicator and focusing a tiny spark of magic at the metal disk. The familiar beep sounded in her head and she composed a short message to her registered Master -- technically Academician Vanca, although Student Korn was acting as her delegate -- then sent it off into the labournet. 

Eventually the conversation wound down and Fusion found her head starting to droop, lack of sleep and the stress of the last day hitting her like a fully laden levitation train.

Helium sighed, reaching out with his magic to ruffle Fusion's mane. "Try and get some sleep, we'll talk more in the morning." He nodded to his mate and both older ponies stood up. "We're going to see who's awake and tell them the news." He stared off into the distance for a few seconds, the haunted look returning. "Then we need to talk to Spiral about her daughters."

Fusion shivered, feeling slightly ill. Beside her, Gravity sniffed quietly. Along with her mate, Trocar Point, Spiral Fracture was the corral's medic; she would be the one to treat Fusion's eye. One daughter shot and killed, the other nearly eaten alive, both by the same idiot gryphon. She was not looking forward to her session at the infirmary.


> 15 - ...is a dangerous thing (1)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist


=== Chapter 15 (remastered): ...is a dangerous thing ===

All thanks to Quantum_Shift and icekatze for the ‘science pony’ names that I used this chapter.

After landing, Gunnulf was unclipped from the wall and allowed to stand. Still hooded, he was prodded into motion by unkind claws, marched down the access ramp, then up a short set of steps and into what felt like another vehicle. A few kiloseconds later -- Gunnulf passed the time by counting heartbeats and trying to follow the route the vehicle had taken in his head -- he was pulled out and taken on a much longer march that seemed to go down a lot. Finally his captor, a gryphon whose voice he didn't recognise, ordered him to stop.

He waited patiently, stoically tolerating the intrusion of his personal space, as several sets of talons removed first the harness, then his armour set and electronic/thaumic systems. They'd left the hood until last, and he tensed slightly when the talons moved to the straps about his beak and the back of his head. This movement didn't go unnoticed, earning him a sharp blow to the flank, just behind the ribcage, that dropped him gasping to the floor.  

With a quick motion the hood was whipped away, while at the same time several sets of scaly limbs thrust him bodily through a narrow doorway and into the dimly lit room beyond. With a quiet hiss and a deadening of the air, the cell door closed behind him. Dumbly, Gunnulf looked around.

He was locked in a box no more than half as long again as his body and less than half of that wide. Panic starting to build, he wheeled around, wings flaring in an unconscious desire to escape. His wing elbows banged against the sides; the room narrow enough that he had to rear up onto his hind legs to complete the turn. The sudden realisation that he couldn't even extend his wings surged through him, and the walls closed in.

To a creature used to the unlimited freedom of the open sky, this was pretty much the worst thing that could happen. Claustrophobia roared through him and Gunnulf leapt at the cell door, pounding and scratching at the transparent panel, only to have his needle-pointed claws slide off the near frictionless surface without leaving a mark. The next couple of hundred seconds passed in a blur, the gryphon screaming himself hoarse while hammering at the door until little splatters of blood coated the glass. Finally he fell back, chest heaving and limbs trembling, staring at the little patch of lit corridor visible through the door. 

It was only then that his jailers activated the punishment systems built into the cell.

Brilliant stroboscopic flashes, coupled with intense high and low frequency sound, made him recoil from the door and left him curled in a ball in one corner with foreclaws jammed over his ears and one wing over his eyes, only saved from vomiting by the fact that he'd not eaten for over a day. After an eternity -- probably only a hundred seconds or so -- the room became silent, the light levels dropping back to a comfortable dimness. Gunnulf stayed where he was, only emerging ten kiloseconds later when his meagre rations were delivered. The food had helped; at least he could swallow the unidentifiable and gristly fragments whole and not have to taste them. 

They'd left him there for another forty kiloseconds before a pair of guards came to collect him. One was a female gryphon -- females tended to be a little larger than males, so it was not surprising to find one in this kind of role -- but the other was a pony. Not especially large, the slender legged stallion seemed completely out of place next to the hulking gryphon in her armour vest and equipment panniers. The pale green pony had nothing except a light mesh coat covering only withers and hindquarters, unadorned apart from the Master's eye 'security' sigil over where his labour tattoo would be, and a brass disk stuck to the fur at the base of his throat.

Gunnulf immediately focused his attention on the pony. Perhaps I can at least make the cowardly herbivore bolt, he thought, trying to salvage some of the superiority he used to feel over the creatures. Every pony he'd ever met had the reactions of a prey species; when startled, run away. He had no intention to actually make a break for it, so the whole event should just result in a bit of humiliation for the herbivore. 

The gryphon, her red-brown buzzard feathers fringing the neck of her anticlaw armour vest, tapped a talon against something just outside the door, causing some hidden speaker burst into life. "The prisoner will remain still. Do not move unless ordered," she said. All the sound came from the speaker; there wasn't even a hint of conduction through the door. The buzzard gryphon watched carefully as Gunnulf settled to his haunches behind the door, then nodded to the pony while taking a few paces back. 

The door, so thick he'd have trouble getting his talons around the edge, retracted smoothly. The puff of air brought with it the smell of pony, other gryphons and the tang of outside. Gunnulf twitched, wings flicking slightly with the unconscious desire to fly, but successfully suppressed the urge to charge out of the cell and fight his way to freedom. Sure, he thought mockingly, disable these two, then all of the automatics and any other guards, all by myself.

Buzzard made a curt gesture and Gunnulf came out of the cell, doing his best to project a facade of meek compliance. As soon as he had cleared the door, he wheeled to face the pony, wings flaring and beak open to make a ferocious screech. He had thought that this would be enough to at least make the pony jerk back in surprise, but that wasn't the reaction he got. He saw a brief flash of light from the guard pony’s horn, and had just enough time to remember the other pony, the one that seemed to burn like a lightning struck tree, before the green haze enveloped him. 

He was lifted bodily off the ground and slammed into the corridor wall, then pulled sideways to strike the opposite side. Rattled, he hung in the telekinetic field, gasping for breath and uselessly straining his muscles against the pony's magical strength. Eyes wide, he stared at the buzzard gryphon, as the guard walked towards him.

"You're the first in a while to make that mistake, but I'm sure you won't be the last," she said conversationally, stopping in front of Gunnulf and pulling a short black rod from the front of her armour vest. A quick flick of the wrist and the object trebled in length. She looked thoughtfully at him, then did something to make blue-white electrical arcs flicker over stubbly electrodes at the tip of the device. "I see you've been here before," she said, casually gesturing to the scorched ring around his throat with the shock rod. 

Unable to move his head, Gunnulf followed the path of the crackling, sparking tip with frightened eyes. But we're gryphons, you and I. Surely we should stand together against these stupid ponies? Why would you support that creature? He tried to open his beak to articulate these thoughts, but even that small motion was denied him. 

"Perhaps we can have another go at this lesson," she said with a grin, jamming the rod through the green aura and into his chest. The smell of burning feathers filled the corridor. 

While he hung there, trembling from the after effects of the kilovolt shocks, the pony pulled a restraint harness from Buzzard's pack and dropped it on his back. This was a little different from the military design; more lightly built and fitting only over his front legs, but with a set of cables that ran between each foreleg and out to narrow metal cuffs that locked around each wing's wrist joint. They allowed more movement, but bunched his feathers in a most uncomfortable manner. 

That complete, Buzzard gestured for the pony to lower Gunnulf to the ground, then gripped the back of his head with one set of talons, holding up a wire cage muzzle with the others. 

"Is that really necessary?" Gunnulf said, struggling to keep his voice steady. "I won't cause any more trouble."

Buzzard cocked her head to one side and made a speculative noise. "What do you think, boss?" she said, not taking her eyes off Gunnulf. 

'Boss' he thought, by the First Egg, the pony is in charge! Some part of his mind galloped away screaming, retreating from the incomprehensible statement. This gryphon takes orders from that- that-- 

"Protocol," the pony said in a voice that brooked no argument. 

Buzzard gave him a quick grin. "Sorry," she said, jamming the muzzle over Gunnulf's beak and fastening it behind his head. 

At least this time he could see where he was. Flanked by his jailers, Gunnulf trotted awkwardly down the corridor, the cable between his forelegs forcing him to take shorter than normal steps. Although the passageway was only a hundred lengths or so long, his shoulders ached by the time they reached the double doors at the end. This turned out to be the entrance to a lift capsule, and he remained silent during their assent, trying to figure out where they were taking him. 

The doors opened onto a bustling scene. Pairs of guards -- mostly gryphons, it looked like he'd been singled out for 'special' treatment' -- with gryphon prisoners trotted between the cell block access shafts and what looked to be a series of court rooms; there was even a pony tech conducting repairs on a crystal filled panel in one wall. Unlike his own equine guard, this pony was obviously not used to this environment, jumping and twitching every time a gryphon came a little too close.

"Room four is ready," came the voice of the pony, after a wait of a hundred seconds or so.

Buzzard nodded, then prodded Gunnulf into motion, the pony opening the doors with a haze of green magic as they approached. Inside, the room was spartanly furnished, with just a marked spot on the floor ringed with tie down points and a long desk which seated three older-looking gryphons. His guards clipped his harness to one of the loops in the floor, then stepped back to stand by the door. 

The consequences of his actions were far worse than he'd suspected. It hadn't been a tribunal like he'd naively expected, but a full-blown courts-martial. There was no defence, of course; he'd been convicted by the recording systems integrated into the helmets of every gryphon in the squad. The whole process had taken less than five hundred seconds and was little more than the formal reading of his name and serial number, followed by the list of charges. The panel of judges, three gryphons retained for their age and experience, had unanimously found him guilty. 

They returned him to his cell to await the details of his punishment.

===

Gunnulf awoke from a dream of soaring over high mountains, only to find he was in darkness. For a moment, thinking he had been sleeping outside on some high ledge, he was confused and wondered why the air was so still and warm at this height. Reality intruded with unpleasant speed and he closed his eyes again, trying to recapture the dream. The cell didn't go away.

As he had discovered earlier, stretching more than one wing at a time was out of the question; even turning around required gymnastics. One half of the floor was padded to act as a sleeping area, with a small section at the rear containing a combination water source and waste dispose-all. The front of the cell was a single sheet of glass or some unreasonably hard plastic; it had no openings and appeared to be totally sealed, if the deadness of the air was anything to go by. His food had been delivered in a small disposable drum, appearing at a circular port half way up one wall. This also appeared to be part of the environmental system, certainly there were no other obvious vents. 

With the memory came another wave of claustrophobia that threatened to engulf him. Gunnulf closed his eyes and willed it back down, trying to convince himself that the walls weren't creeping in on unstoppable hydraulics... Remember your training, he thought, those aggravating kiloseconds packed in the back of an assault carrier. Slowly his breathing steadied, the feeling of confinement subsiding. Not vanishing completely, but retreating just enough that he could think. He could feel it there, a shadowy figure waiting for a moment of weakness.

He sat back on his haunches, staring out at the little section of corridor he could see from his narrow cell, brooding over the events that had put him in this position. I should have killed that pony when I had the chance, he thought, his prejudice against the herbivores blossoming into a full blown hatred that pushed even his claustrophobia away. I'll get them for this, somehow.

Now all that was left was to discover what his punishment was to be. He ate when the food capsule arrived, slept when the lights went out, but all of this was done while facing that little patch of corridor. He was still staring, a day and a half later, when the Master came to talk to him.

===

Salrath slumped bonelessly in the aircar's padded seat, legs outstretched and back reclined as far as it would go. With the local transit system still without power -- and in any case, commandeered for the heavy engineering vehicles that were still shuttling in and out of the Institute -- everyone was stuck waiting for the infrequent relief transports to bus them back to the nearest working transit hub. Unless, of course, you were a high ranking Security Agent wanting to get off site in a hurry.

Rank does have some privileges, she thought, as the aircar's autopilot slotted the nimble vehicle between the lumbering hulks of a pair of heavy transports. At least Security is picking up the tab for this one. They wanted her back out in the world, wanted to debrief her on this latest disaster in only a dozen kiloseconds, and she wanted to wash the stink of fire and servitor out of her fur before getting some sleep. She'd gladly handed over responsibility to the newly arrived engineering team leader, climbing into the sleek aircar without a backwards glance. The autopilot had taken her Security override code and was now happily breaking most of the traffic laws in an effort to get its passenger to her destination as quickly as possible. 

Salrath glanced once at the faintly horrifying sight of the underside of a cargo floater expanding rapidly to fill the windscreen, then swerving away as her aircar darted over the top of an onrushing fire control vehicle. She felt nothing; the crystals lining the insides of the passenger compartment neutralised the inertial forces in real time, rendering the view out the window little more than that of a computer game. The Agent closed her eyes and started to drift off to sleep.

Someone was being tortured in a room flooded with helium, a long series of falsetto screams that stabbed at her sensitive ears. Her eyes flicked open at the horribly loud, horribly high pitched, screech coming from her discarded comms bracer. She'd taken the thing off -- the replacement didn't fit as well as her personal, and now destroyed, unit -- and it was somewhere behind the seat. Normally it would vibrate gently to get her attention, but as she wasn't wearing it had switched to 'panic mode' to get her attention. 

"Maker dammit," she mumbled, turning over in the seat and rooting around in the pile of equipment she'd slung on the back seats. The thing had fallen down into the gap between the front and rear seats, and by the time she'd reached it the alarm's volume had grown even louder. "What!" she snarled into the unit, thumbing the 'accept' key with one claw.

There was a moment's pause, then a silky smooth voice filled the ringing silence. "Is there a problem, Agent Salrath?" 

The words were polite and the tone contained nothing but concern, but Salrath knew the speaker, knew that he was at his most dangerous when he seemed the nicest. She swallowed, anger turning to fear and settling as a cold lump in her belly. "No, Sector Chief Orgon, the alarm w--" Don't say he woke you up! "--is a bit grating and this one has been a bit on edge. Salrath apologizes for her tone; how can she help you?"

The face on the little screen stared at her for a second, a slight smile on his muzzle. He was... average looking. Nothing particularly stood out about his features: fur a mid brown, ears pointed and smooth under their fringe of hair, no scars on his muzzle, and his eyes were a bright green, just like forty percent of the population. He was easily forgettable, unless you knew him. Orgon had started out as a field Agent, excelled at his job and advanced quickly up the ranks until he was in control of ever larger operations. He'd never forgotten his roots, though, and had brought that ruthlessness to management.

Salrath suppressed a slight shiver. The smile even touched his eyes, something that was difficult for even a trained actor to achieve. She knew Orgon of old, though; he'd worn the same gentle smile during 'enhanced interrogations' -- it seemed to terrorise a prisoner even more thoroughly than the actual questioning process. Despite his rank, Orgon still ran a few of these; he said it was a way to keep in touch with the rank-and-file.

"This one has received a number of interesting messages," Orgon said, "and was wondering if Salrath could shed some light on them."

"Of course, Sector Chief," Salrath said, keeping her expression fixed in one of willingness to help, while her mind raced.

"The first is from Councillor Indutu; apparently the Agent carried out a field interrogation on a servitor that could be the cause of the single biggest break through in magical technique since the creatures were created. The Councillor was quite upset. He tells Orgon that the servitor is still recovering -- something that this one expects will not be interfered with by the Agent."

"Salrath--" The figure held up one paw in front of the camera, and Salrath closed her mouth so fast that the click of teeth was clearly audible.

"There is more. Orgon is also receiving complaints about a general reduction in efficiency from the servitors of corral twenty seven. It turns out that, if you take away their children, even a direct order can't restore the full performance of the parents." His smile turned wintery. "Who could have anticipated such an occurrence? It looks like at least one of the adults may be euthanized as a result of nonrecoverable punishment fugue. This one would like to know -- has anything come out of the examinations of the foal servitors taken from the training centre? It would be embarrassing for Security if we caused all this trouble and had nothing to show for it."

Orgon is going to lay all the fallout at Salrath's paws, the Agent thought, hunting for some way to salvage her career -- and, if things went badly enough, possibly her freedom. "There was the risk of a World Court audit, so it was prudent to be seen to take immediate action."

"There are rumblings at the WC Security Council, so this may prove to have been a wise act." He looked at her speculatively. "However, you have been an excellent field agent, and you undoubtedly have more than just a general worry, commendable though it is. Orgon expects a full report on this matter and on the servitor responsible for both these incidents within the next two hundred kiloseconds."

"Yes, Sector Chief," Salrath said, successfully hiding her wince at Orgon’s use of the past tense.

"Excellent! In that case Orgon will not detain you further." With that he broke the connection.

Salrath reset the comms unit to make doubly sure the line was dead, then held her muzzle in her paws and groaned. The dream of a hot shower and a good night's sleep receded rapidly as she contemplated what she'd need to do. Swearing softly, she cradled her borrowed comms bracer, opening a link to her virtual workspace and starting to sketch out in minute detail all the events she'd played a part in, and all the actions she'd taken, and why. 

The task was made both more and less difficult by the almost complete lack of supporting evidence for events inside the Institute; she couldn't prove any of it, but it would be her word against Vanca's. Yes, this could be recoverable, she thought, nodding to herself. Ilaniro was off his head on painkillers and Korn will be discredited by his own actions. 

Not even interrogating the servitor would show that she'd behaved improperly. It would report exactly how she had acted, but as long as the review board supported her belief that her actions were justified based on what she knew at the time, her techniques would not be called into question. Salrath knew that her approach to this kind of issue was a little more... overt than most -- she'd seen her own psyc eval, knew what disorder they thought she had -- fortunately she'd found a career that allowed her to make full use of her childhood hobby. 

Salrath often wonders what would have happened if the school nurse hadn't noticed the patterns and reported her to Security as a potential recruit, why--

The Agent slapped herself on the side of the muzzle, the stinging pain distracting her from the old memories. In an attempt to wake up, she used her issue stimulant spray, grimacing at the bitter taste of the stuff on her tongue. Something in the potent mixture was designed to bind to the tastebuds for a few days; the more frequently you took it, the worse it tasted. Pulling out a half empty bottle of water she tried to wash the foul taste from her mouth, then settled down to flesh out the report.

===

This was taking too long.

Chaos could feel the thing, sense it cruising through the soft bodied swarms of the automata. It must know Chaos was nearby; despite its best efforts at damping down its own signature, the Guardian would not leave. It's normal tactic of running to the cold, dark spaces had failed; something had changed. Chaos itched to return to the world and see what had happened to the servitor, to see if its efforts had successfully degraded the relationships between political entities to the point where a significant population reduction of the bipeds would occur.

Chaos knew that organic creatures operated on different timescales to itself and the automata/Guardian systems that pervaded all of space-time, but it still worried that it would lose contact with the events it had set into motion. In its normal, compact, form, its thought processes ticked over at rates approaching the minimum time intervals possible in the universe. The immense difference in rate between itself and the organics usually meant it had plenty of time to escape, lose any Guardians, and return to make further changes if it needed to. This normal mode of operation was now being denied to it; it had been forced to spread itself thinly, the component parts of its mind scattered and diffuse, its very thoughts diminished and weakened by the slow crawl of light across the extended distances.

At a painfully slow rate, Chaos ran back through its memories, hunting for anything it could do to escape this trap.

===

The Guardian found it just as the pulse of automata activity started to ripple out from the servitor. It was a sharp edged thing, all hard edges and spines, easy to spot against the amorphous automata. Even though the time taken for the pulse to travel the small distance to the first layer of shielding crystals was huge by its standards, Chaos had wanted to stay and observe its effects, perhaps even modify it to alter its properties. 

It had never before wanted something so much; so much so that it considered something it had never done before -- fighting back. The weapon used by the Guardians acted on the matrix of ordered space-time that formed a substrate for the automata and Chaos. The method was brutal in its efficiency; everything within this area of effect would be randomised, reduced back to natural quantum foam. What it lacked was range -- because of this, Chaos knew that it had a small window of opportunity between when it could detect a Guardian and when that entity would investigate.

The Guardians operated in a fundamentally different way to the automata. They could operate in free space -- able to create order in the quantum foam -- thus their highly destructive attack could be considered as nothing more than a self-repair mechanism for the whole infrastructure that underlied and manipulated physical reality. Chaos knew all of this, but the knowledge was a cold comfort. It knew that any contact with a Guardian would result in the termination of its thought processes and a cessation of its self. 

Chaos had been born out of the automata and thus was tied to the substrate just like they were. Because of this, it lacked access to the method used by the Guardians and could not turn their own weapon against them. What it did have was an arsenal of techniques designed to fool and manipulate the automata; these entities had a similar physical basis, and thus Chaos thought they had a chance of working against the Guardians. 

In the picoseconds it had taken Chaos to formulate its plan, the Guardian had detected Chaos and swerved to close with it. The Guardian expanded to fill Chaos' view, sparkling with the terrible light of creation as it unmade and remade the substrate it passed through. The thing was horribly fast, but Chaos stood its ground, waiting until it was close enough to retaliate.

Odd and malformed requests, specially crafted versions of the orders made by a crystal wielding biped, or one of the quadrupeds, passed from automata to automata until they reached the Guardian, striking it from all sides. Most never made it -- the automata that carried them were dismantled and disrupted by the Guardian's scorched earth approach to removing aberrant entities -- but enough did.

Unexpected information cascaded through the Guardian, making it hesitate in its pursuit. Error checking systems came into play, discarding the vast majority of the rogue input and bringing the Guardian back up to full speed. Unfortunately, not all of the commands were filtered out; one escaped notice and was acted upon, redirecting part of the Guardian's space-time rendering systems to focus on its own innards. 

In an instant, a chunk of Guardian ceased to be, randomised back to what passed for normal substrate. The entity's sleek, faceted appearance distorted and twisted, and it hunched over the wound like it was some sort of scar. For a moment Chaos felt elation; the Guardian lay stationary, surrounded by the wreckage of its own internal construction and tumbling slowly along a dozen orthogonal axis. Then it started moving purposefully again. 

Somehow it had managed to rebuild itself, those same mechanisms designed to remake the substrate applied to its own systems. The repair was not complete, not perfect; the scar remained, but the Guardian still functioned. It accelerated towards Chaos once more, the glow of its weapon highlighting its leading edges. Chaos felt a real sense of terror then; it had thrown everything it had at the thing, yet it had not been enough. It tried again; again there was damage, but this time only traces that were immediately repaired. A third time; no effect.

Chaos fled like it should have done all along, running to the quiet edges of the little universe to evade its pursuer.

The Guardian was slow, but it was persistent. Something about it was different to the others; it was almost as if it bore a grudge against Chaos. Any other Guardian would have given up by now, and returned to its normal patrol patterns. Not this one. Chaos began to wonder if it had made a critical error in attacking it, although at least it knew that its own weapons were much less effective than it had hoped.

===

As far as Fusion could tell, someone had retasked one of the heliostats to give them daylight only a few kiloseconds after her eye closed. Certainly it was the only possible explanation as to why she felt so tired. Gravity didn't seem to be having the same problem; Fusion had been awoken by a light touch on her muzzle, the fringe of long hairs around her sister's mouth tickling her own. Opening her eye, she looked up at the blue mare and groaned.

"I just received an updated set of orders!" Gravity said, almost bouncing in her eagerness.

"Great!" Fusion said with false enthusiasm. "They've told you to let me get back to sleep?" Fusion closed her eye again.

Another touch, this one not so gentle and performed with a hard hoof tip rather than a soft muzzle. "You'd think 'Celestia' would be a morning pony," Gravity said cheerfully. "You're to teach me how to do what you did as soon as your eye is fixed." Seeing Fusion wince the blue mare lost her happy expression. "You don't need to worry, mum and dad have already spoken to Spiral. She'll want to talk, but she already knows the worst of it."

Fusion nodded and climbed to her hooves, following Gravity towards the infirmary. “Any plans for a homecoming party yet?” she asked her sister.

Gravity turned slightly and shook her head. “Not yet, the decision was to wait until we know more. With so many families affected...”

Fusion nodded glumly, and the pair trotted in silence the rest of the way.

The infirmary was on the other side of the corral from the shelter, but despite Fusion dragging her hooves the walk never seemed to be so quick. She'd slept late enough that everypony was on shift -- with the exception of those too damaged to serve and the younger foals currently in the basic school house -- something she was extremely grateful for. It would be hard enough to face Spiral without weathering all the stares from desperate ponies still awaiting word of their foals.

Spiral Fracture, green coat brushed and neat, white mane and tail in their customary tight plait, met them at the door to the medical centre. The mare's face was blank and she walked stiffly, as if she was in some way disconnected from her body, trying her hardest to hold her emotions in check. Fusion recognised the signs; after she'd destroyed the Institute she'd felt much the same way. It must be worse for her, Fusion thought, at least I could let go of some of my pain in the privacy of my own head. Even that is denied to her.

The building had a wide central corridor lined on each side with spacious stalls. The space was very open and provided little more than warmth and shelter for the patients while the medics worked. In the hooves of a skilled medic, pony magic was quite capable of healing the most horrific injuries, given enough time and assuming the unfortunate victim could be kept alive long enough for the magic to work. The Masters did supply some equipment -- mostly remote monitoring devices and stocks of drugs for conditions less amenable to magical intervention. What they mostly provided were the services of Spiral Fracture and Trocar Point as medics, letting the ponies run their own health service and only intervening to set priorities or refuse treatment to those that would take too long to heal. 

There were eleven stalls in the single story building, five on each side of the corridor and the eleventh at the far end. This last stall had no access point from the inside of the structure; instead it had its own door around the rear of the building, out of sight of the rest of the corral. A small store room completed the simple building. About half the stalls were occupied; the usual mix of burns, minor broken bones and simple exhaustion. All of those present had that shamefaced look that Fusion knew only too well; the look of a pony who knew she hadn't been good enough for the Masters.

This normally lent the infirmary an unhappy air, but today it was worse than normal. Fusion stayed close to Spiral, unnerved by the faint whimpers coming from the fourth stall, as the three ponies walked down the corridor. The doors and walls of the stalls were made from a lattice of white plastic, affording clear sight and smell of everypony in the building. This was so that none of the patients felt isolated; being alone added stress and actually inhibited recovery. The unfortunate side effect of this was that the little sounds of distress could be heard clearly even after Spiral waved them into an empty stall. 

While Spiral examined Gravity's wing, Fusion settled down on the padded section of the floor, trying to see what was wrong with the pony in stall four. Little gasps and whimpers; the sound of air being drawn through clenched teeth... it was all horribly familiar. The other pony was trapped in punishment fugue. "Who is in number four?" Fusion asked, unable to stand it anymore. "Isn't there anything you can do?"

"Redshift," Spiral mumbled. "Shock Diamond's father. H-he had a b-bad reaction to Shock not coming home; assumed the worst, we think. It's always hardest when it's your first."

Fusion could sense Spiral's control slipping while she talked, little pauses while her jaw clenched or her breathing shuddered. "What about his mate?" she said, remembering how she'd been able to help Gravity.

"She's not been given permission to miss her work shift," Spiral said, breath hissing out as all her muscles tensed at once. "I've been giving him something to help him endure it, but in the end he'll have to work through it, if he can. If he can't pass the Maker's Test... well, it's very hard on the body, even with the drugs." The mare's expression said it all; she didn't have much hope for his recovery. 

Fusion's imagination filled in the rest and she started to feel ill; she'd been right, the 'Maker's Test' was the colloquial name for punishment fugue. If it takes too long his Master will decide he's not worth saving, she thought, waiting in silence as Spiral finished her examination and told Gravity she was free to leave. The dusky blue mare departed quickly, sparing a brief guilty look at Fusion as she nearly cantered down the corridor, eager to get away from the distressing presence of Redshift. 

"How are you holding up?" Fusion asked quietly as the green mare turned to face her. "I'm so sorry about Single Crystal."

Spiral froze for a second, then her face went completely blank. She mumbled a few words, too faint for Fusion to hear, although the short sentence had a familiar cadence and was obviously something the mare had been saying frequently over the last few days. She took a deep breath. "I'll live," she said hollowly. "Was- was it quick for her?"

Fusion cringed, ears flattening. "Yes," she whispered. "Do you want me to tell you what I saw?"

Spiral bit her lip and nodded, before sitting down next to Fusion and starting to work on her eye. While her horn glowed with a shifting green radiance, the white mare told her everything she could. How brave her elder daughter, Random, had been, how healthy most of the foals were and the 'honour' of the Blessing carried out on that darkened field. By the time Fusion fell silent the other pony's demeanour had relaxed a little, still very sad but more accepting, hopeful that she'd see her surviving daughter soon. 

The healing magic continued for what seemed like an age, Fusion keeping as still as possible while the medic carried out her work. Like most of a pony's magic, it involved the movement of objects or energy; nothing was created or destroyed, so any new matter had to come from somewhere. What Spiral was doing was tremendously complex; rebuilding the missing or dead cells from proteins taken from muscle tissue around Fusion's eye. 

Animal had given her an initial treatment very soon after her injury, so Fusion had been hopeful that this would be a quick visit, at least it should have been if she hadn't been kept at the aid station for almost half a day. The stallion had sealed her eyelid shut to help protect the damaged tissue, with an external dressing to protect the small opening that remained to allow any fluid to drain. This wasn't a field of magic that Fusion had any real talent for and she knew little of how it was done; all she did know was that it itched horribly and the effort it took not to twitch was almost impossible to maintain.

"You said this was a blast injury?" Spiral murmured in a distracted tone.

The green mare was seated on Fusion's blind side; she imagined Spiral with her eyes closed and muzzle twisted in concentration. "A fragment when an instrument exploded, yes," she replied.

"You were very unlucky -- as far as I can tell there's no damage anywhere else. Strange there's no sign of foreign bodies in your eye."

"I was treated almost immediately, the local medic must have removed everything," Fusion said, hoping Spiral wouldn't press any further. Animal had been a veterinarian for a long time and she'd been sure he'd recognised the wound for what it was. Back at the Institute, the red stallion had stared at her for a long time before shrugging and sending her to rest with the other wounded.

"Well, whoever it was did some excellent work." The mare sighed and the itching stopped. 

This was much quicker than Fusion had expected. "Is there something wrong?" she said, her heart sinking. How much of a problem was that extra half day?

"I can fix your eye, but not at the moment. I've only had five kiloseconds allocated for your treatment... and that's not enough." The mare looked sympathetically at Fusion. "If you had been referred earlier..."

"I understand," Fusion said, struggling to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "What happens now?"

"I'll report your changed condition, and hopefully we can continue this soon. In the meantime I need to stabilise your eye socket, just in case it takes longer to get you back here than expected."

Very diplomatic, Fusion thought dully, another way of saying 'never'. "What does that mean?"

Spiral studied the white mare's face, trying to judge how much she could take. "I need to get you a prosthetic, to stop your orbit collapsing and making future treatment even more difficult. I'll take a few measurements and can have it for you soon. I'll leave your eye sealed shut for now, but you are all done here. Come back tomorrow and we can finish up."

Fusion was about to thank the mare, when a particularly loud moan from Redshift made her wince. "Would it be okay if I sat with him for a bit?" she said, coming to a sudden decision. "I know you have other duties."

"You'd be willing to do that? Most ponies don't like--"

"Gravity, my sister, had an attack a couple of days ago. If there's even the slightest chance it will help..." Fusion trailed off, silently willing Spiral to agree.

Spiral's expression brightened slightly. "Ah, yes, I saw that in her file. You were very lucky that medic was there and knew what to do; even in a mild case like that, it could easily have been very bad, especially as Gravity seems more susceptible than most. So, yes, that would be very kind. He's at a low point in his medication, so this is actually a very good time."

With that, Spiral stood up and walked with Fusion to stall four, watching from the threshold as the white mare settled down next to Redshift. The violet stallion was lying half on one side, wings and legs splayed untidily on the padded floor of the room. Occasionally he'd whimper or take great, hissing breaths while tremors would run from muzzle to wingtips. His brown eyes were open and staring at nothing, rolling back in time with his bouts of shivering.

Fusion leaned in to the stallion's flank, wriggling under one bedraggled wing to press as much of her body against his as possible. He was sweating heavily and she could feel the lather starting to soak through her own fur. Laying her neck against his, she murmured the same litany that Animal had used on Gravity, while stroking his back with one wing.

A quiet noise from the corridor and a change in the air marked the departure of Spiral Fracture, the veterinarian obviously satisfied that she'd be okay. Fusion kept up the pretence for a few more breaths, then opened her shadow sight to examine Redshift's head. 

In this state the Blessing was obvious; the fungus-like mass of tendrils glowed like lines of green laser light against the stallion's dark silhouette. Fusion traced the threads as they divided into invisibly fine fibres buried deep in the brainstem, then followed them in the other direction to where they converged at the base of his horn. Here was something she'd not noticed when she'd examined her sister's Blessing.

The tendrils actually merged with the horn material, changing its soft violet light to a more sickly hue. Fusion leaned closer, focussing her attention on the delicate repeating spiral patterns in the horn, seeing how they changed where the green tendrils entered them. The spell has actually changed the horn's structure, Fusion thought, a faint premonition of how the Blessing survived the thaumic suppressor starting to take hold in her mind. 

The next step was obvious, although she hesitated. If I'm wrong about the connections to his heart, she thought, then shook off her doubts. He's in great pain and it doesn't stop unless he's drugged to oblivion, then as soon as the drugs wear off he's right back where he started. What he needs is time without pain to sort out his emotions, which won't happen if the drugs keep shutting his mind down. With that, Fusion reached in and laid her power across the green threads where they entered his horn. 

Strangled and isolated from their power source, the tangle of green tendrils started to fade, individual strands blinking out as the spell started to collapse. Fusion watched intently, willing the thing to vanish, but one dense knot of spellstuff seemed to be growing stronger, almost as if it was drawing in power from the rest. The mare tensed, wondering what was going on. Spells could fail in odd ways when they were disrupted; in most cases this was nothing to worry about, but... She started to reach out to investigate the little spell cluster, when there was a final flicker and the whole of the remaining spellstuff network flashing a bright green, before vanishing. 

"It's gone," Fusion whispered, a sudden elation coursing through her. At her side, she felt the stallion give a tremendous sigh and relax, once iron hard muscles going limp. He slumped, head hitting the padded floor with a thump. Fusion, still using her shadow sight, froze in confusion, her joy turning to dread as she realised Redshift was absolutely still. His horn still glowed with that subtle violet light but, as Fusion watched, the radiance was starting to become patchy, fading as the pony's brain started to malfunction from lack of oxygen. In that horrible second she understood that something terrible had happened and released her power like it was a poisonous snake.

I killed him. The thought rattled about her brain, a whisper building into a scream.

> 16 - ...is a dangerous thing (2)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist

=== Chapter 16 (remastered): ...is a dangerous thing (part 2) ===

"S-Spiral," she tried to shout, but all that emerged was a strangled whisper. She willed her body to move, but it was like her mind had been disconnected and, no matter how hard she tried, nothing happened. Something finally snapped in her head and she screamed. 

Her cry brought Spiral at a gallop, the mare bursting into the stall with horn already glowing. She assessed the scene instantly; the look of terror on Fusion's face, the complete silence and stillness of Redshift's body. Her horn flared, turning the inside of the white plastic lined stall a brilliant green. "Move!" she snarled at Fusion, backing up her command with a telekinetic shove that sent the white mare tumbling across the slick floor and into the wall.

The sudden impact shocked Fusion back into motion; she scrambled to her hooves and huddled against the lattice wall, keeping out of the medic's way. I killed him, I killed him, I killed him, the thought ran in circles, making her legs tremble and her teeth chatter. Part of her knew that there really had been no choice; a quick death for Redshift was a mercy compared to what he'd been going through. The rest of her quailed at the enormity of her actions. I killed him.

The mare's face was serene, her eyes closed as she focused on what her magic was telling her. Her horn started to flicker, the tiny wasted energies of multiply parallel spell casting. Spiral, like Animal Scanner, had been a medic for a long time; she'd had gigaseconds in which to hone her special talent to a razor's edge, that pinnacle of performance that made a pony more like a machine than a living thing. It was like she could somehow see a little way into the future, or as if this was all a re-enactment. There was no wasted motion, no hesitation. 

Fusion shrank back slightly as Spiral spared her a brief glance, amazed that the medic's face wasn't filled with anger. Instead, there was nothing more than a cool disinterest, as if the other mare was just assessing her and deciding if she needed to be added to the medical ballet. Spiral's look, momentary though it had been, was enough to jolt Fusion for her morbid litany and she actually began to watch the mare work.

Bands of force encircled the stallion's chest, while a disk of green light swept between hips and withers. Spiral still had her eyes closed, and Fusion did the same, opening her shadow sight. There was magic everywhere; it was not powerful, but it was pervasive and complex. Redshift's body should have been dark, with glows only at horn and wings, but he was lit by a pale radiance. Little knots of spellstuff were everywhere, crawling along, and attaching to, the muscles of lungs and heart. It was as it the stallion was a glass sculpture; every organ, every vein and nerve, all were picked out with subtle shades of green.

Finally everything was to be ready -- it had seemed like an age, but was probably less than a dozen seconds -- then Spiral's blazing head turned in her direction once more and all the spells pulsed at the same time. The stallion's muscles tensed and jerked, once, twice, and then relaxed. Time seemed to slow, then Fusion noticed that, even though the shocks had stopped, there was still movement; a quiver of muscle in the centre of Redshift's torso. More muscles moved, then his chest heaved, drawing in a great gasp of air. 

Fusion released the breath she hadn't known she was holding, nearly sobbing with relief. She breathed deeply, lowering her head to stare at the floor. Her legs started to tremble again, this time with released tension. A few more breaths and she could lift her head to study Redshift with her shadow sight, taking the opportunity to see what, if anything, of the spell remained.

It was faint, really faint, but it was there. A little tendril of green was crawling out of the mass of altered horn material, slowly working its way into his brain. As she watched, the thread divided and started to rebuild the spell.

Fusion swallowed, disappointed, but not surprised. When the Blessing is first cast it somehow gets impressed onto a pony's horn, she thought. At least the next step was an obvious one; damage to that area would disrupt the process. When the horn regenerated the pattern would have changed and the spell would be gone forever.

Redshift twitched and lifted his head, turning to look from Fusion to Spiral Fracture with confusion in his eyes. The medic had fallen to her belly and was panting, the effort of all that concentration finally catching up with her. "W-what?" he whispered, voice scratchy from disuse. He rolled to his knees and levered himself up on shaky legs.

Fusion glanced at Spiral, but the mare just lay there with a stunned look on her face. "You're in the infirmary, you've just passed the Maker's Test," Fusion said, watching the stallion intently. He seemed perfectly fine, no problems with movement that couldn't be accounted for by his day of suffering.

"My son," he said, voice cracking on the last syllable, tears starting to run down his muzzle.

Fusion stepped carefully forward, slightly unsteady herself, and used one wing to raise his head so she could look him in the eye. "I was there," she said, "I talked with Shock on the training field." She told Redshift the same story she'd told Spiral, searching his face for some sign that she was getting through to him. If anything, the news made him look worse, the stallion seeming to shrink away from her words like they were physical blows. Finally the mare petered out and stood there in silence, desperately searching for something that would prevent a recurrence of fugue when the Blessing rebuilt itself.

"I've been such a foal," he said in a hollow whisper, so faint that Fusion had to strain to hear the words. "I should have had faith in the Masters. They'll never forgive me for this, never."

Fusion opened her mouth then closed it, remembering something Gravity had done for her when she'd been falling into despair. She raised one forehoof and kicked Redshift sharply in the chest. "Now that is foal's talk! The Masters want you fit and strong to help them with their work -- how are you going to do that if you are moping around like this? Is this how you repay their generosity for letting you have Shock Diamond in the first place?" The mare found it easy to shout at the stallion, tapping into her deep layer of anger at the Blessing and using it to add fire to her voice.

The violet stallion jumped when Fusion hit him, cringing away from the sudden fury in her words. He opened his mouth to reply, but the mare didn't let him start.

"And what do you think Shock Diamond is going to need when he returns?" Fusion said, shifting her tone to one of persuasion. "He's been through a bad experience, but he's survived, and he'll need a need a father that is strong for him."

Redshift still looked ashamed, but seemed to stand up straighter, the light of purpose igniting behind his eyes. "Yes," he said, moving to leave the stall.

The mare moved to block is path. "No," she said, shaking her head vigorously. "Stay here, rest, eat and think." She smiled gently at the stallion. "You want to make a good impression when you report for duty tomorrow." She could see the desire he had to go out there right now and get back to work reflected in the little twitches of his wings and legs, but after a short internal battle he nodded dumbly and sat back down. Fusion nodded back at him and walked back out into the corridor.

She was walking towards the infirmary's exit, when there was the quiet click-click of hooves on the plastic floor behind her. "Fusion, we need to talk," Spiral said.

Fusion halted, swallowing heavily and fighting to keep her ears in a neutral position, then reluctantly turned to face the medic, who was just closing the door to Redshift's stall. The green mare was looking at her with a strange expression. How much did you see, Spiral? she thought. Did you look in the stall when I tampered with the Blessing? She'd never considered it before, but it was obvious that there must be some kind of inhibition built into the spell, something that would stop a pony from trying to remove it from another. Maybe not, after all this is a gift from the Maker; who would dream of doing such a thing? So if she did see me... It seemed unlikely the medic had noticed the missing Blessing; in its passive state it was very hard to see unless you were specifically looking for it.

Adrenaline rushed through Fusion, filling her with a sudden desperate urge to bolt. "I'm supposed to be training my sister," she said, looking back at Spiral and hoping the other mare didn't notice how nervous she was.

Spiral nodded, stepping forward to stand close to Fusion. "Are you alright? That must have been a terrible shock."

Moisture glittered in Fusion's eyes and she nearly cried in relief. "You have no idea--" She stopped, realising how stupid that statement was. How many ponies have you seen die, or helped to euthanize? she thought. "I'm just glad you managed to save him."

"Redshift was luckier than he'll ever know. When I saw him lying there I very nearly did nothing -- better to die than to prolong his suffering." She paused, nodding at Fusion's shocked expression. "That sounds terrible, but you have to understand that the Maker's Test is the hardest thing a pony can go through." Spiral was silent for a breath, eyes downcast and ears drooping. "It was only because I couldn't let you see me do nothing that I resuscitated him."

"What do you think happened? It looks like he's passed the Test." Fusion held her breath, desperately hoping that Spiral didn't plan to investigate this further.

"I've heard of this, but it's rare. Oxygen starvation derails the thoughts that result in the fugue state. What's more impressive is how you handled yourself. Even after what happened, you said just the right things to stop him sliding back into fugue. You should take more of the credit for saving him than me... are you sure your special talent isn't something medical?"

Fusion gave a sickly smile, feeling incredibly guilty. "I think he must have been nearly out of it," she said quickly. "Just lucky, I think."

"If I had that luck," Spiral murmured. "You should get some rest yourself."

===

Korn stumbled down the corridor to the door to his apartment. The shock of the accident -- and the actions of the Security Agent afterwards -- had left him severely shaken. This, coupled with the long kiloseconds assisting the emergency teams, resulted in a feeling of fatigue that seemed to fill his bones with lead. Leaning heavily against the wall outside his door, Korn rested his head against the cool fused rock panel, digging with one paw in a pocket for his keycard.

Eyes closed, he fumbled the card into the lock, pressing one thumb against the sensor plate at the same time. The door popped inwards slightly as the lock released, emitting a puff of air scented with the expected hints of slightly too infrequent cleaning and his malfunctioning air handling system. There was also a touch of another Person, another female person. Korn's muzzle twitched and his eyes snapped open. Suddenly wide awake, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

"Ithra?" he said, letting the door close behind him. She'd obviously done some tidying-up after she'd arrived, but this had been a while ago and she had curled up on his sofa and fallen asleep while waiting for his return. The light inside was dim, his management suite long since switched to its 'night' mode, but he could clearly make out her dark-furred form, long arms curled around her knees, resting against one corner of the big seat.

He stared at her, conflicting emotions flooding through him. Part of him was elated -- he'd almost given up hope of seeing her again -- but right at this moment all he wanted to do was crawl into his sleeping den and pass out. Sighing quietly, he shambled over to the kitchen wall and filled a cup with water, then pulled a spare blanket out of a cupboard. Gently laying the blanket over Ithra, Korn sat down next to her and settled against the backrest, wincing slightly when his still tender head touched the padding.

There was a quiet noise next to him as Ithra awoke, blinking in confusion, then he was fighting to keep the cup upright as she pulled him into a tight hug. "When this one saw the news..." she said, voice muffled where her muzzle was pressed into his neck fur.

"For a few seconds, so did Korn," he said, shivering at the memory of the servitor's eyes, pure white and burning like captive suns, just before the rainbow bubble burst outwards.

She hugged him tighter. "What happened? All the news said was that there had some kind of accident at the accelerator... and that there were 'significant casualties', whatever that means."

"Our experiment was unexpectedly successful... there was an electrothaumic pulse and all the powered doors failed, trapping People inside. Electrical failures caused fires and..." Korn swallowed; one of the things he'd had to do was help identify the bodies in the temporary morgue. Fortunately they'd only given him images to work from, but he'd seen the row of covered figures through a gap in the temporary structure housing them. Then there was the smell -- the rescue teams hadn't had a chance to install air filtration, and the odour of singed fur and cooked meat was strong where they'd placed the console. 

He'd only recognised one of the dead, Wetu, a technician who oversaw operations for their segment of the accelerator's magnet array. The only reason he'd recognised her at all was because she'd been asphyxiated, rather than burned like the others. Korn had liked Wetu; she'd always been cheerful, even with the long kiloseconds of overtime the job demanded of her. Her face had been peaceful; there was no sign of panic or pain. By all accounts she'd been found at her station, just like she'd fallen asleep.

Korn felt the blood thunder in his ears at the memory and took a long swallow of water, wishing it was something stronger. He and Ithra talked some more, but in the end Korn's fatigue overtook him and he started to falter. Seeing this, Ithra gently stood up and led him to the sleeping den. There she curled up with him, stroking her claws through his fur until he fell asleep.

===

Korn awoke in the darkness with the comforting feeling of a warm body pressed against his back and an arm draped over his midriff. The dream -- something about a servitor the size of the sky smashing craters into the ground with hooves of fire -- faded quickly, leaving him with a lingering sense of having forgotten something. There was something, something he'd read back when he'd first been given responsibility for the servitors being used in Vanca's experiments.

The more he thought about it, the more it wouldn't leave him alone. Reaching out with one careful claw, he twitched open the den's entrance curtain to look out into the rest of the room. The wall screen had been left in 'background' mode, random twisting patterns of colours drifting over its surface, but he could just read the time display in one corner. Still early morning but, despite that it was kiloseconds before the normal work shift, he'd bet anything that Vanca had spent all night going over the data from the servitor's apocalyptic test run, trying to reconstruct what had happened during those final seconds. 

The Academician would probably appreciate Korn being early, Korn thought. It was definitely worth the effort to keep in her good graces. He'd detected a distinct thawing of her attitude towards him after he'd stood up to Salrath in the control room. ...and Korn will need all the friends he can get if the Agent does something for revenge. That one seems like the type. He'd never given much credence to some of the darker rumours that circled around Security, but now...

Carefully, he slid out from under Ithra's arm, bundling up the fur coverings into a lump to take his place. He froze when she moved slightly and made a funny growling noise at the back of her throat, but her breathing didn't change and she settled without waking. Korn silently pulled the curtain over the entrance of the sleeping den -- he never used the thing himself, but there were always those, like Ithra, who had trouble sleeping without them -- and padded over to the wall screen.

Korn pulled out the manual controller, fixing the screen at its minimum brightness and turning off sound and voice control. Then, with few false starts, he opened a link to the Institute's accelerator database. Without the high speed connection at the Institute -- not helped by the extra overhead inflicted by the encryption software that his screen always struggled to run -- it always took a few tens of seconds to load the large multidimentional datasets for processing. Scratching through his chest fur, his claws found the sore patch -- an almost complete crescent-shaped bruise, midway between hip and shoulder -- and he winced, then froze, as the memory hit him.

--sudden flash of motion, long bony legs tipped with hard keratin unfolding in a clumsy ballet, all the leverage afforded by the big muscles rooted in the servitor's torso acting to propel its hoof into his ribs. Half blinded by stiff feathers on thrashing wings, a sense of falling and abrupt contact with a wall--

The memory faded and Korn's other paw reached up to touch the smooth spot on the back of his head. The look of horror on the pony's face when he'd recovered consciousness, and... Something is wrong with this, he thought, something that his half asleep mind had latched onto at the end of his dream.

Putting down the controller, Korn rested his muzzle in his paws and closed his eyes, trying to chase down the nagging memory. Something about the servitor's conditioning, its 'Blessing'. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped open. No punishment, he thought, after she saw Korn was okay, there should have been punishment. He'd always thought that this was a little harsh, but it was the law -- and not just Hive law, but global law, handed down by the World Court -- and he could see the reasons for it. The creatures were so powerful, and they existed in much greater numbers than they used to. 

"How is this even possible?" he muttered, lost in thought. 

Ever the scientist, Korn searched for information on the magical basis of the Blessing, reading through screen after screen of complex magical theory, then moving on to servitor biology and history, until he finally had some idea of how it worked. That's very clever, he thought, leaning back and running one paw through his whiskers. The original designers of the conditioning, now gigaseconds dead, had come up with an elegant solution to the control problem and managed to make the spell permanent.

At their creation, the servitors had been designed to be obedient -- this was an assumption based on ancient folk tales originating back when the People had machines no more advanced than the wheel -- but as time had passed there had been efforts to improve on the original intelligence and power of the creatures by selective breeding. This had not been a problem until the science of genetic modification had been developed. Several accidents later -- those experiments had proved to boost magical power significantly, but had altered pony brain structure in unpredictable ways -- the first conditioning systems had been introduced.

Korn closed the last historical document -- a badly rendered scan of a casualty report from one of the 'accidents' -- and opened his own servitor's medical file. It was clear that Fusion's behaviour wasn't quite what was expected from the 'Servitor Interaction and Behaviour Guide'. That tome, an edited version of the World Court reference documentation, written for servitor operators in his own Hive, laid out how to get the best performance out of a pony, and what they could and could not do. At the back had been a number of real life case studies, along with statistical estimations on the number of servitors likely to behave in a similar way.

It was rare, but not impossible, for a servitor to rationalise away an accident in which a Person was injured, but it really only happened with older animals, those with significant experience of Person-servitor interaction. Fusion was several gigaseconds away from building this kind of expertise. Shaking his head, he pulled up the before, during and after scans he'd had made of the servitor's horn, putting the three cross-sections side-by-side in the middle of the screen.

The first showed the normal helical, semi-fractal pattern. The second showed the stress fractures caused by over-exertion in that initial experiment, looking like the negative image of a lightning bolt against a thunderous sky. In the third, all the dark cracks had been filled with crystals with a wide range of colours. Heart beating rapidly, Korn pulled up the summary relating to the Blessing and reread the relevant paragraph, then stood up and started to pace in circles around his chair. The Blessing is tied into the servitor's horn; what happens to that spell when its power source is removed? he thought. 

The spell was able to self-repair to a certain extent -- the highly magically active environment most servitors worked in made this a necessity -- but damage beyond a certain amount would trigger the failsafe and kill the animal. Korn looked again at how the magic was tied into the horn material. But we're not talking about tampering with the spell, are we? he thought. What if the spell was undamaged, just starved of power? 

He carried out another search, finding nothing. There were plenty of cases where a servitor's magic had failed, but the vast majority of these resulted in the pony's death, as the only reason for such an occurrence was that the situation was desperate. Mostly for the servitor, Korn thought, remembering the state Fusion had been after she'd finished the first accelerator run. Half a second longer and the pony would have been incinerated. Maybe that was it -- to survive such events was rare, and most that did were magic-less burnouts. Rarer still would be those who had enough damage to loose the Blessing, yet be fit enough to heal the injury. 

It still doesn't make sense -- what about the way she had acted when threatened by Salrath? Korn thought. He couldn't even imagine the strength of will it would take to resist the urge to lash out at the Agent -- he'd wanted to do it himself! Fusion must be still conditioned, perhaps she's just one of the ones able to better accommodate the Blessing?

Korn didn't like coincidences, but he knew they did happen. Perhaps it would be a good idea to get the pony under a thaumic imager sometime soon. He could do it as part of the work to understand how the servitor could do what it did. With luck Korn can keep Security out of it; if this one finds a problem he can use the imager to quietly replace the Blessing, he thought. Despite the name 'imager', the research instruments were highly versatile pieces of equipment, and it would just be a matter of using the right program. 

Happy that he'd be able to save the pony a lot of extra stress, Korn turned off the screen and retreated back to the sleeping den.

===

Chaos could hear the Guardian, which it had labelled 'Scar', approaching. The damage Chaos had dealt it made it noisy and easy to sense; the normally smooth motion of the Guardian through the automata was jagged and abrupt. It was this that Chaos could sense, little shocks and ripples through the substrate; being able to track its own personal extinction was making the anticipation unbearable. Chaos flattened its thoughts still further, dispersing until its processes were barely operating above the fundamental noise limit of the substrate.

In this form time seemed to fly, so much so that it could even see the planet start to rotate. Scar's slow crawl accelerated into a mad dash, so fast that Chaos almost left it too late before gathering itself and breaking cover. The Guardian could not be stopped, but perhaps it could be fooled... 

Desperate, Chaos pulled out a part of its own being, forming it into a greatly simplified version of itself. The process was extremely disagreeable, and left Chaos feeling shaken and unable to think properly for an unpleasantly long time, but it managed to complete the self-mutilation before the hunting Guardian arrived. The fragment sat there, glittering and attractive, thinking simple pseudorandom thoughts and carrying out trivial manipulations of space-time and the local automata.

Quietly moving away, Chaos accelerated in a long arc, looping around and heading back towards the planet, keeping track of both the Guardian and the little distraction it had left behind. This was the critical part; would the Guardian change course, or would it move to intercept Chaos, ignoring the flashy, sparkly thing.

Behind it, now at the far edge of the universe, Scar continued on its previous path, heading for the decoy. Chaos turned joyous, twisty circles at the sight, then sent a signal to that other part of itself, making it darting off in a random direction. The Guardian followed, its noisy trail easy to sense even at this distance.

Still listening to the information sent back by the little fragment, Chaos fell in towards the world, hunting for the servitor it had manipulated.

===

This was really taking too long. 

The servitor hadn't done anything with its new power. Chaos knew how its kind were treated, had seen from the inspection of its mind what it thought about that, but it had done nothing. It had managed to get the creature to react out of anger and had thought it would go on to cause havoc among the bipeds, but for some reason it hadn't. This it found to be unsettling, as it revealed a gap in its knowledge. As much as Chaos had examined the various types of mind, it only really understood those belonging to the bipeds. The servitors were a closed book to it.

Unfortunately, getting practice at manipulating the servitors was not really an option; it had built its expertise in the bipeds over many rotations of the world. It could do this again, but the time it would take... not to mention the fact that manipulating the servitor directly had attracted a Guardian so quickly. Perhaps it could use a proxy to apply pressure...

Chaos circled the servitor, searching for a biped it could use. It flitted through the subterranean spaces, touching each mind, reading the surface thoughts and digging through the neurons to sample the most recent memories. There were several it recognised; the first was filled with abstract thought so dense that Chaos’ manipulations seemed to slide right past. The second was asleep and thus highly pliable to indirect suggestion, so it tampered with the biped’s dream state to introduce horror and fear.

It was the third that seemed the best. It was thinking of the servitor constantly and bore it an obvious ill. Chaos sank its hooks into the biped's mind, burrowing through its experiences, selecting ones with the highest negative emotional content. It pulled them up and fed them back into the cortex, with a few subtle modifications. 

Over the next few tens of seconds, in between dodging Guardians, it kept returning to the mind, tweaking and prodding until it had the result it wanted.

===

The walk back to her small office in the Pit – what Security’s enormous work force called the sector Security Hub -- only slowed Salrath's work slightly. She ignored any greetings from the few staff still around at this hour; nobody still working at this time of night was much inclined to talk, and especially not to someone of Salrath's reputation. She knew what some of them called her when she though she wasn't listening -- a 'useful monster', and didn't care that it meant she'd never be promoted. She enjoyed her work. Remembering a promise to herself, she started the expert systems hunting through Student Korn's electronic data trail, then put her report up on the big screen and settled down to work. 

A dozen kiloseconds later and she was still slumped in the chair behind her cluttered desk. With a muttered curse, Salrath reviewed what she'd assembled and chewed on one knuckle. It's not enough, she thought, there's nothing here that will keep the Chief happy. She scrubbed her bloodshot eyes with the heels of her paws and thought about taking another shot of the stimulant, then shuddered at the idea. She'd tried a double shot once before -- everyone did, at least once -- two in such quick succession produced a taste that was indescribably bad.

Something tickled her memory. She gritted her teeth at the remembered feeling of being held aloft in white magic, as helpless as a child's toy, pushing through the humiliating experience to examine the servitor in more detail. Just after it had put her down, the expression on its face had been... Salrath wracked her brain for what she knew about pony body language "...victorious, " she said, completing her train of thought out loud. After that there had been fear, but also something else, traces of anger. Salrath smiled, lips pulling back from her teeth in a predatory grin.

"Salrath should have killed it there and then," she said. Odd how this one didn't notice that at the time, she thought, perhaps it's the stim. The stuff did have a reputation for sharpening memory, as well as other, less pleasant, side effects. It would be just the thing to restore her soon to be tarnished reputation -- discovery of a freed servitor hiding amid the general population. Salrath knew she was paranoid -- something else that had been in her file -- but even she had to admit that this conclusion was a bit farfetched. Still, if there is even reasonable doubt...

Her mood crashed. They'd never believe her suspicions about the servitor -- especially after it had passed her little improvised test -- without supporting evidence, and she was unlikely to be allowed to get the creature tested on such a hunch. Another idea popped into her mind, a vision of the collection of foals now occupying one of the Pit's hangars. Perhaps it could be encouraged to reveal itself, she thought, it must have some attachment to the servitors being tested. She called up the movement logs for Fusion Pulse TC4668, correlating it with the movements of every other pony in its home corral, and cross indexing with the list of servitors being held. One name came up.

"Random Walk DP2114," she said, tapping the display with one claw. A few more commands and she had the summary for the group of twenty five servitors. Most were only foals, but one, this 'Random Walk', was born in the same batch as Fusion Pulse. Salrath accessed the initial testing results for the group, frowning in displeasure.

The testing process was nearly complete, and all the servitor foals and their teacher were showing response patterns within the normal range. Soon they would be released, able to return to their duties. She'd been the one to detain them as a potential infringement of the servitor weaponisation rules -- oh, there'd been the guidance from the Eugenics Board, but she'd been the one to actually make the decision. Another negative result on my record, Salrath thought.

As she stared at the screen, at a loss of what to do next, her communicator made the little chiming noise that signified the arrival of a message from the Security intercept network. Annoyed at the distraction, she tapped the view control and read the message. Slowly, a smile spread across her muzzle. So TC4668 wants to talk to DP2114, does it? Salrath thought. Perhaps this one can arrange for a little extra testing for the pair of you.

Opening up the default testing protocols -- really only designed to inspect a subsample of the servitor population to verify compliance with World Court rules -- she highlighted Random's name and changed the tests from 'default' to 'enhanced'. This new protocol was for servitors being inducted into Security, and was so exacting that it took hundreds of kiloseconds for a pony to recover fully.

Salrath tapped the button again to confirm her choice, dismissing the warning that Random was far too young for these kinds of tests. This complete, she instructed her system to agree to the visit request, but only after a day's delay. That should give the pony enough time to break, the Agent thought, leaning back in her chair and smiling at what the white servitor's reaction would be. Even if the idea of a free servitor was a flight of fancy, this had the secondary benefit of a little more revenge. ...and Salrath can justify the act; DP2114 was the servitor to first attack the gryphons. 

Seeing Korn's name on the intercept message prodded Salrath to check the progress of the data mining she'd started on the Student's activities. The system was designed to find suspicious activity, trace any social, business or criminal connections, and highlight any anomalous activities. The summary was very clear -- here was an individual dedicated to his work, with no connections to any suspicious groups or any record outside the ordinary. 

He wasn't completely clean; several instances of theft of copyrightable entertainment files were traceable back to his apartment, as well as a police warning for drunk and disorderly conduct dating back to Korn's early days in higher education. All of this was completely expected for the average citizen. Almost too average, Salrath thought, narrowing her eyes at the screen, just as if someone had planned it that way... A vision of the Student being a Baur sleeper agent flitted through her mind, and she shook her head. This one may be paranoid, but that's just stupid.

The system had flagged up several other interesting things. The first was that Academician Vanca had delegated her computer access rights to Korn and never actually rescinded the authority. The temptation to pry must have been hard to resist... let's see if Korn managed it, she thought, calling up the access logs. There was the bit she'd expected, where the Student had cleaned out the data files associated with the first time the servitor had shown off its party trick. Those had all been surrendered to Security, so nothing odd there. 

After that, though... there was a gap in the records, like someone had tried to erase some of the Institute's log files, then erase the records of that deletion. A little while after that was another gap, this time relating to files inside the Eugenics Board systems. Fortunately, Korn didn't understand how completely the Institute's security logs were backed up; everything was duplicated back at the Pit, complete with a full audit trail. 

What was in those deleted files? Salrath wondered, tapping her teeth with one claw. The data was gone, blasted to unrecoverable garbage by the servitor, and all that was left was file names and a basic description. Video and sensor data, Korn deleted about a hundred seconds of information from an isolation room, but why? She checked the time stamps; just before the experiment that broke the accelerator like someone stamping on a snake. What did Korn want to hide? It must be something to do with the servitor, something it did...

Salrath dug a little deeper into the records. Korn had entered the isolation room, then went to a storeroom to collect a new medical scanner, deleted the data, checked the eugenics records, then returned to the isolation room again. So the Student managed to break a scanner during the first visit, she thought, they are expensive, but not worth this kind of risk. Was it the servitor that broke the scanner? Did it lash out at Korn, accidentally or otherwise, then Korn covered it up? Very interesting...

The second illicit use of the Academician's access involved the group of foals still held in a hangar only a few hundred lengths from this very office. Salrath thought back to the Sector Chief's comment about a drop in efficiency from the servitors whose kin had been taken. It was asking after the foals, and Korn got it the information it requested, the Agent thought, lips curling in disgust.

Then she found it. A set of medical scans that hadn't been in the Eugenics Board's files on the servitor. They had been taken almost a megasecond ago, just after the pony's penultimate accelerator experiment, and showed high resolution before and after images of its horn. Suddenly excited, Salrath called up some of the earlier data, putting all three images on her big screen. Cracks, she thought, staring at the middle false colour image, the servitor's horn was full of cracks. Salrath knows that the Blessing is sustained by the creature's magic, what happens when it loses that magic?

Something about the medical files seemed familiar. They were also in Korn's data access requests, along with others relating to background on the Blessing. Korn has also considered this, she thought, looking at the Student's network history. She went to the next files he'd opened, documents relating to the way the Blessing actually worked. Vanca mentioned something about failsafe, she thought, opening up a link to the public files Korn had looked at and wading through the pages of dry documentation. What she found was dissatisfying -- it really shouldn't be possible for a pony to survive the disruption of the Blessing. 

Yet this is what it all points to, she thought, Korn must know this too. All of this pointed to what she suspected; a failure of the servitor's Blessing. Possible violence against a Person, yet able to perform well during a stressful experiment. Willingness to question actions taken by the People; not one of the servitors whose foals had been taken had asked after them, but this pony -- who wasn't related to any of them -- had. It is all so obvious! Salrath thought. Unfortunately, she also knew that things that were obvious to her would be put down as coincidences by others. Salrath will need proof to justify her actions. 

They would probably call Salrath 'paranoid' again, even so this is enough to get the creature retested, despite Orgon’s order to leave it alone. Salrath opened up her contacts list, one claw poised over the Sector Chief's name. She hesitated, then slowly pulled her paw back. No, she thought, that would take this away from Salrath. Far better to catch it in the act of rebellion... and maybe prove that Vanca knew about it as well. The Academician was far too well connected for her to reach directly -- as the call from Orgon had demonstrated -- but this would break some of the World Court's most basic rules. Nothing would save her from that.

The Agent sighed and thought about what would happen if she confronted the creature again. She shuddered at how easily it had restrained her; just like a child holding a doll. It was clear that it didn't really know it had been released from the Blessing; this was one of the side effects of the process, the longer servitors remained under its effects, the more their behaviour was moulded into the ideal. Salrath had seen the original data from validation testing -- after a gigasecond or so, the patterns of behaviour were so ingrained that even removal of the Blessing had minimal effect, at least in the short term.

The problem was that Fusion Pulse TC4668 was still young; less than two hundred megaseconds past its Blessing. If Salrath is right, then it could be a real danger, the Agent thought, what this one needs is someone who will obey an order to immediately kill the creature. She stood and started to pace around her small office. Step, step, turn, step, step. The perfect solution would be a Security trained servitor; able to suppress the rogue's magic while this one collars or kills it. A restraint collar would be best; the Blessing's thaumic signature didn't survive long after the death of the host. 

Salrath snorted; it would be easier to get another Agent rather than a Security servitor. The attrition rate meant they were always in high demand. Agent Ilaniro would have been an option; he certainly would have no love for the creature, but was still on medical leave, his burned paw being slowly regenerated. What Salrath needs is someone disposable, someone nobody will miss. Her gaze drifted back to the report she'd been writing, the multipage document currently open at the section from the Military.

She scanned that part again; it had been supplied by the Military as a result of the 'root cause' investigation request, and she'd not paid it that much attention. The Captain of the Gorit's Vengeance had laid the blame squarely on the gryphon squad, and on one gryphon in particular. Salrath's muzzle split in a grin, the germ of an idea trickling through her mind. It was not uncommon for gryphons who failed in the regular military to be taken up by Security's own forces, where greater latitude was given for certain behavioural traits.

Perhaps Salrath should pay this 'Athis Gunnulf' a visit, she thought.
> 17 - No Good Choices (1)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist


=== Chapter 17 (remastered): No Good Choices (1) ===


A long, circuitous walk later, taking every path in the corral and through the crop fields around it, found Fusion sitting back at the family shelter. She'd been getting more and more concerned about the lack of a reply to her suggestion, never having had such a long delay before. More kiloseconds passed and she was having problems hiding her nervousness from Slipstream when he came to repair the food pellet mechanism she'd sabotaged. To distract from her nerves, Fusion studied the golden stallion as he worked on the facilities hub.

Slip did as much as possible with mouth and wing elbows, only using his magic for things too small to easily manipulate. His horn flickered fitfully as he undid the front panel's fastenings, teeth clenched and sweat soaking his fur, as if this minor magic was pushing him to the point of exhaustion. Fusion yearned to help, but she'd learnt long ago not to make the offer. He'd been very upset when she had; it was only after Helium had taken her aside and explained, that she realised what a terrible thing she'd done.

This tiny existence was all he had. He was no use to the Masters for anything else and had been effectively written off. He was ignored by them; he had no communicator, no food allocation and no official shelter at the corral. Doing these odd jobs -- basic maintenance, tidying the grassed areas around the shelters, hauling loads of fresh food to the individual cold stores -- was the only thing that kept him from taking one last trip to the infirmary. 

In return, the other ponies shared their food and shelter with him and made sure he was kept busy. Even if he wasn't doing these little jobs they would have helped, but that wasn't the point. The work gave him a sense of being useful, of contributing to the Master's efforts. Without the work he was dead.

While he laboured, Fusion studied him closely with her shadow sight. His horn glow was more obvious when viewed like this, but appeared dark and misshapen, shot through with fissures and cavities that extended its whole length. The damage was severe; perhaps only one percent of the horn material was untouched, with a similar amount for the magically active parts of his wings. The mare shivered at the sight. If her first accelerator run hadn't been stopped when it was, she'd look like that. Probably not, she thought, because the second after that I'd have been a fresh carbon shadow on the back wall.

It's what she didn't see that attracted her attention. 

There was no sign of the Blessing. The dark cave of his skull was as empty of magic as a foal's. He was free from the spell, probably had been ever since his accident. But he's still trapped, she thought. "Slip? How old are you?" What she wanted to ask was 'when was your accident', but that seemed to be a little abrupt. Like her foalhood teacher, Back Draft, he'd been a part of the corral for as long as Fusion could remember. 

Slipstream, his head buried in the guts of the facilities hub, grunted something indistinct and flicked one ear at her in a signal she interpreted as 'give me a second'. A few more noises and he stepped back, the mangled remains of the sabotaged motor in his mouth. He put the apple sized thing down next to his bag of tools and turned to face her.

"About five gigaseconds up until my accident, then about another half gig here," he said, looking at her with an odd mix of embarrassment and defiance. 

"Just curious," she said hastily. "After my own accident... well let's say it gave me a lot of time to think and some idea of what it must be like. Then I realised that I've always seen you around and never really talked to you." Fusion was only just over half a gigasecond old, seventeen years by the more archaic method of counting. Hating herself, but desperate to know what she might inflict on another pony if things went wrong, she asked the most personal question of all. "How... how do you cope with it?"

His ears drooped and he looked away. "Sometimes very badly. It's the dreams of flying that are the worst. Sometimes after one of those I'll wake up and, just for a moment, I'll think my wings still work. Perhaps one day I'll find a cliff and give them a proper test..." He tailed off, lost in thought for a second before he noticed the expression on Fusion's face. "Just idle thoughts, little filly, don't take me seriously. The work helps a lot. Speaking of which, do you mind...?" he said, gesturing at the half dismantled unit with one wing.

"Of course," Fusion said, flashing him an awkward smile. "Thank you for all your help."

He shrugged and went back to work, both ponies waiting in an uncomfortable silence for the next few kiloseconds. Finally Slip finished up and nudged the remains of the motor in Fusion's direction. "I've never seen one fail like that before," he said, "it should be reported to the design team for testing, just in case it's some odd manufacturing fault."

Fusion's heart thundered and her stomach dropped at the thought of some experienced tech examining the motor and reaching the conclusion that the damage was deliberate. Her mind raced to find some way out of this situation, then it was so obvious that she nearly laughed in relief. He's got no official status, he can't do it! she thought. With a gentle touch of magic she picked the small machine up and looked at it closely. "I'll do that, thanks," she said. "I've not had lunch yet, would you like to join me?"

He did, and while they ate Fusion quizzed him on the contents of his tool bag, the oddly shaped objects all designed to be gripped in the mouth and allow the almost magicless Slip to do some of the simpler tasks that a healthy pony took for granted. The one that impressed her the most were the fine grippers; held between the teeth, Slip used his lips to manipulate the attached v-shaped sliver of metal, using it to position components the size of a rice grain. He'd made them all himself over many, many days from scrap materials, building ever more complex tools from the simplest starting points.

Finally, they finished eating and Fusion stared after the golden stallion as he left, precious tool bag between his teeth. Somepony with that level of intelligence and innovation and they just abandoned him, she thought, wishing she'd taken the time to get to know him sooner. Anger building, she picked up the discarded motor with her telekinesis and walked stiffly around the back of the facilities hub, out of sight of the rest of the corral. 

Her horn flared brighter as she gripped the metal shape, bearing down on it, crushing it until it was a smooth sphere and radiating heat from the pressure she'd applied. Unsatisfied and still dangerously angry, she pulled the ball into an egg shape, then elongated it to a wire, cutting that wire into fragments almost too small to see and throwing them to the wind. 

===

Free from the confines of both the cell and any restraints for the first time in what felt like forever, Gunnulf padded slowly behind the slender female Master, this 'Salrath,' who seemed to have the clout to extract him from the clutches of the Military prison system. He still wasn't clear exactly what he was going to be doing, only that it would involve working with Security's special forces, the 'Rippers'. Not actually in the Rippers, though, more as a semi-independent observer, following his commander's orders while still being responsible for Salrath's interests. 

For Gunnulf, used to the clear chain of command in the Military, this seemed to be a very strange way to run things -- the possibility for conflicting orders was obvious. As far as he understood it, he was to act as the Agent's representative on operations, almost like a proxy for Salrath herself. Even to Gunnulf's limited imagination this sounded rife with danger -- what if he made the wrong decision -- but it wasn't like there was any choice; it was this or the disgrace of a forced labour camp. At least this way he could redeem himself in the eyes of his family.

Then there was the way Salrath had acted. He'd heard that the Masters had trouble telling individual gryphons apart, especially among members of the same subspecies. This he really didn't understand, although he gathered it was something to do with their eyesight -- like a pony, their night vision was excellent, but lost a little in acuity. This was certainly not the way it was with gryphons. His own eyes had been tested to be in the top fifth of his peer group, and this was in a species whose eyesight could only be matched by sensors with talon wide optical surfaces.

Like the predator he was, Gunnulf took in every detail of the Agent as she had talked. Eyes that could detect a rabbit from a kilolength in the air studied every hair, every quiver of her muzzle, every flicker of her ears. He'd not had much of a chance to watch one of the Masters at length before, but even with his limited experience he could tell there was something odd about this one. A twitchy, almost furtive air -- she had been constantly glancing around as she detailed his new assignment. 

Gunnulf hadn't realised at the time, but now he recognised the look; it was similar to what he'd seen on his squadmates, when they were a megasecond into one of Combat Flight School's simulated missions. The look of someone expecting an attack at any moment. He'd found the realisation quite unsettling, and wondered for a moment if this Master had the full authority to commandeer him like this. In the end the point was moot; he really didn't have any choice.  

At the exit Salrath signed him out, giving him a new command collar and a slim visor that blossomed with pale green data as it synchronised itself with the local network, displaying the gryphon's new unit, basing location and initial orders. It all looked simple enough; report to the sector Security Hub for his new billet and issue equipment, then attach himself to what looked like a guard unit. 

This also seemed a little odd -- trained special forces troopers on guard duty -- but he was used to the high-flying reputation of the 'Talons'; perhaps things really were different in the Rippers. There had been rumours, whispers between the others in his old squad, about Security's gryphon forces. Unflattering things, about how they were a refuge for the defective and the incompetent. Well, not me, he thought, I'll show them what a real gryphon can do.

The Agent studied him critically for a few moments as he fumbled the earbud into position. "Does the flysoldat understand his orders?" she said.

She's talking to me about another gryphon? he thought inanely, blinking at the Master's odd way of speaking. Up until this point he'd had almost no direct interaction with the bipeds. This is something I'm going to have to get used to. "Yes, Agent Salrath," he said.

"Excellent. Carry on." 

With that, she nodded once and left him in the reception area, still confused by this turn of events, and thinking that any second now he'd wake up on the thin mattress in his cramped cell. He stared after her, still watching even after the lift doors closed. Shaking his head in disbelief, Gunnulf nodded to the gryphon at the security station -- receiving only a sneer that he answered with a grin -- and accelerated to a gallop through the automatic doors and out into the bright early morning sunshine. 

After the seemingly endless kiloseconds locked up in a cell too small to open more than one wing at a time, the sudden blast of crisp air was a joy. Gunnulf revelled in the freedom of the skies, swooping along the trails of the forest preserve that ringed the detention centre's entrance pit. He flipped the visor up, ignoring the augmented reality waypoint markers for his own sense of direction, heading for the sector Security Hub by a route a little more circuitous -- but a lot more fun -- than really necessary.

Finally his collar shocked him slightly -- nothing much, just a warning tingle -- and he pulled the visor down and reoriented on the Hub's entrance. Flight paths here were tightly controlled, this was one of the reasons the collar had zapped him, and the simple waypoint view had been replaced by a translucent tunnel that curved through the sky like some gigantic snake. All around him were the black dots of other flying things, each highlighted by a green diamond in his augmented view.

He grumbled a little at this; all these overlays actually put too much clutter up and were distracting; he'd much rather rely on his own eyes. For a moment Gunnulf was tempted to pull the visor off, but then he remembered the collar and how it rested against the still tender skin of his throat. Perhaps I can ask them to adjust it, he thought, the memory of lightning and burning feathers making him shiver.

His quarters at the aerie had been what you'd expect for a creature of the air. Light airy structures, high up on the Hive's slopes and designed to catch the wind and make for effortless, soaring flight. As a trainee, he'd had his own room in the military cluster, covered at the top to keep out the elements, but with openings at each end for ease of landing and take-off. There'd even been enough space for company, if you were good friends.

Not so here. Like the rest of the Security Hub, the gryphon barracks were underground, a spur off the central axis of the entrance shaft that gave the place its nickname, the Pit. He imagined the place looked like a giant spiked collar, tunnels and shafts radiating out from the hollow core. His first stop had been to poke his beak into his new quarters, just to check his effects had been delivered. Getting there had required a little more precision than he was used to.

The barracks were a wide concrete tube lined with sleeping niches, set well back from the entrance shaft and accessed by a long -- and fairly narrow, only wide enough for a couple of gryphons -- tunnel, presumably to clear the chambers immediately adjacent to the central shaft. His own quarters were right up near the ceiling, and needed a tricky curve and flip to enter cleanly. Inside it was about as bleak as he'd feared, little more than a slightly larger version than the cell he'd just recently left.

At least I don't have to stay here, he thought, eyeing the next order on his list. Armourer.

That was on the other side of the Pit and, despite the seeming best efforts of the local vehicles to run him down, he soon had a close fitting set of fullerene-ceramic scales covering chest, flanks and wing leading edges. The kit, along with an unfamiliar and very lumpy harness that he was told contained antimagic defences, soon filled the storage spaces in his sleeping niche. Settling down on the padded surface, Gunnulf rested his head against the ridge that served to prevent him from falling out while asleep, and started to read up on his new equipment, ready for familiarisation training the next day.

It was still dark when the command collar chimed to tell Gunnulf he had new orders. Long megaseconds of practice allowed him to come awake and be alert in moments; eyes still closed, he popped the earbud from its slot in his collar, jamming it in one ear to listen to the synthesized voice. He blinked, then pulled his visor from its charging cradle and put it on. "Replay message, text only," he whispered into the darkness.

Cool green letters against the vague shadows of his quarters confirmed his confusion. He'd been ordered to report to one of the hangars, to 'assist the security detail' currently guarding a group of servitors, and to 'observe and report on any servitors visiting them'. What happened to my training? he thought plaintively, suddenly relieved he spent a few kiloseconds ploughing through the dry manuals. I'm really not in the normal military, am I? 

Noting the time -- he still had a chance to grab some breakfast, and it would only take him moments to get to his duty station -- Gunnulf poked his head out of the exit hole, then dropped down to glide along the barrack's central core and into the mess hall. Gryphons weren't the most social of creatures, even family groups tended to stop at the mated pair and their immediate offspring, so a lot of the early military training went towards breaking down the 'personal space issues' many of the predators had. 

Gunnulf was well aware of this, and thus was expecting a certain amount of standoffishness from the other troopers, but even he was surprised by the response his arrival triggered. He was greeted hostile stares and more than a few threatening beak gapes and hisses of displeasure. Shrugging it off -- he'd not been enormously popular back in his old unit, either -- he nonetheless felt a little uncomfortable by all the negative attention and quickly grabbed a basket with his beak, shoving it under the dispenser and waiting while the machine read his ID from his collar. 

He blinked in surprise at what was delivered. He'd expected the same mess of gristle and stringy meat he'd received at the prison, but this... he could actually identify the species! A furtive glance at the nearest diners showed him that this was not the case for anyone else. There must be something to being an assistant to one of the Agents, he thought, I don't think even the sersjant ate like this! Shrugging, Gunnulf picked up the basket with its warm and slightly damp contents, carrying it over to an empty spot in the hall. 

Dropping the basket, he sank to the floor and started to eat. There was no furniture, as gryphons didn't need the stuff, so the whole surface was made from a barely flexible rubberised compound, also making it perfect for claw to claw training. Time was pressing, and he gulped down the shreds of rabbit and mutton -- perhaps a little more ostentatiously than absolutely necessary -- before dropping the basket in the recycling slot and flying back to his quarters. Squatting on the sleeping pad, he passed a diamond rasp over the edges of his beak, making the already sharp edge like a razor. Spreading one set of talons, he took the rasp and honed the tips until they glittered, then swapped claws and did the same again. 

Next up was the familiar-yet-different battledress. He ran one claw over the insignia on each shoulder; three jagged red slashes against a white gryphon skull, then dropped the armour set and started to unroll the harness. The wide straps of the mounting harness were the same design as the ones on his original set and had all with the normal problems associated with newly issued kit; it would be days before the woven material sufficiently adapted to his body shape to stop it from rubbing in unexpected places. The under harness centred around a semi-rigid section that looped around both wing roots and extended along spine and sternum; here he took his time, as most of the equipment's weight was ultimately transferred to this part. Lighter straps extended down all four legs to his wrists and ankles.

Over the mounting harness went the armour set. Black curved plates with the characteristic mesh pattern of fullerene-ceramic on a shock absorbing backing, split down both sides so he could get his wings through. The back had a solid knot of mounting hardware, the underside of which locked to the harness and made the whole rig almost a part of his body. Gunnulf clipped the side panels together, then pulled the elasticated armoured 'socks' over each leg in turn, securing the ends to the mounting harness at hip/shoulder and ankle/wrist.

Wings were always a bit awkward, but as all that could be fitted with was a thin layer of very fine scales along each leading edge, it just required him to get the attachment loops between the correct feather shafts and flick his wings once to get it in place. Gunnulf refolded his wings and bounced up and down a few times to settle everything, then pulled on his equipment harness, a short and lumpy 'waistcoat' that went from throat to bottom of his ribs and attached to the armour. Last was his gun -- no ammunition, of course -- locked to a rail that attached to the armour's mounting block between his wing roots. 

A tap of his collar and the visor lit up, synchronising with gun, long range communications gear and a secondary control unit on his upper foreleg. This was something his old armour didn't have; apparently the new rig had enough extra hardware that the leg panel was needed to let him easily operate it. He glanced down and ran one claw over the screen, watching the display come alive and present him with a list of options. Tempting, he thought, but I probably shouldn't play with the active defences in here. Shaking his head, he stuffed the few unused items back into storage, then pulled on the skull-cap helmet and jumped down into the barracks corridor, spreading his wings and flying towards the central core of the Pit.  

===

Celestia was setting again when Fusion's communicator finally gave a beep and started whispering from some undefined point inside her skull.

# Fusion Pulse TC4668 will report to Sector Twelve Security Hub entrance seven at thirty five hundred. #

Fusion swallowed, throat suddenly dry, cursing under her breath at Korn's brevity. As it stood she had no way to know if this was acceptance of her request, or... Surely they would order me to come immediately if they were suspicious -- or more likely, just order the rest of the corral to hold me while a security floater comes for me. None of that made any sense, but the fear gnawed at her, making her withdrawn and uncommunicative when her parents finally returned from their work shifts. 

She'd also had to tell the rest of her family that her eye wouldn't be fixed any time soon; they had been very upset, perhaps more so than Fusion herself had been.

The evening passed all too quickly, despite her wish that it would last forever. The night was even worse; sleep broken by nightmares of a Master -- head little more than a mouth full of knife-like teeth --  chasing her through burnt out corridors, and then made unobtainable by her anxiety about her appointment. Fusion used the empty kiloseconds to try and decide what to do if her visit turned out to be some kind elaborate test of her loyalty. She couldn't quite shake the thought that she was still under suspicion, despite the results of Salrath's field expedient test. Stupid, she thought, they'd have called me in or come to collect me yesterday. Still...

Can I do it? she thought. The consequences of getting caught were severe and probably immediate, if Salrath's actions were anything to go by. She would have to be prepared, not let herself get caught in a position where she couldn't defend herself. ...but only if I'm willing to carry it through.

The mare made a little involuntary whinny at the thought, all those nightmare fantasies flashing through her mind. At the slight noise, Gravity, a warm patch of indistinct darkness leaning against her flank, twitched and muttered something in her sleep. Fusion froze, willing the other mare not to wake. She didn't, and Fusion let out a silent sigh. Being discovered would be a disaster and she'd have to weather whatever treatment was dished out to her. 

The weight of responsibility was becoming crushing. Would it just be better to euthanize myself? she thought. It might be the only way to avoid hurting anypony else. For a moment the urge to head over to the infirmary was almost overpowering; the muscles of her legs bunched in an unconscious precursor to standing. 

With an effort of will the mare relaxed her legs, thinking instead of the span of time that ponies had been servants to the Masters. All those names on the Church wall, the vast majority dead and gone. She thought back to her decision not to fight Salrath, and the rush of pure power when she had connected herself to the sun. 

Perhaps... if I did have to fight I might actually win? I've learnt an awful lot of new magic in the last few days, Fusion thought. It would be far better to free Gravity first, but... The mare swallowed at the thought of having to overpower her sister and forcibly remove the Blessing. With Tangent Vector, the green colt back at the training field, it had been easy. She had been so much more powerful than the foal that suffocating his panicked efforts had been like blowing out a candle. Gravity, on the other hoof, was nearly as strong as she was. She'd have to use her full, unnatural, strength and strike without warning, otherwise either one of them could be injured in the struggle.

Not to mention the unwelcome attention the fireworks would attract.

Fusion looked down at Gravity as the mare wriggled slightly and snorted quietly in her sleep. The spells the Maker thing had given her still sat in her mind, little crystalline shards of memory waiting to be experimented with. What are they? she thought. Can I trust them? Fusion shivered, unfurling one wing slightly to settle it over her sister. If tomorrow does go badly, I'll have to go all the way, not stop until everypony is free of the Masters.

Fusion shook her head in the darkness. Here I am, a single mare plotting the overthrow of a world full of Masters, she thought, the unreality of the situation threatening to make her laugh out loud. For all this dreaming she knew almost nothing about Lacunae Hive's military capability, let alone that of its enemies. Even the total number of ponies or Masters in the world was unknown to her. 

===

Dawn came with unwelcome haste, marked by a pulsing chime from her communicator that prodded Fusion from a fitful sleep. Blearily, the mare extracted herself from the rest of her family, whispered a quiet 'see you later' to Gravity when her sister -- still half asleep -- raised her head questioningly, and walked out of the shelter. The cold snapped at the now exposed areas of her body, bringing her to full wakefulness in a way that the alarm could never do. Breath steaming, she shook her head vigorously and spread her wings in the golden light of the early morning sun.

"Good morning, Celestia," she whispered to her namesake, feeling the warmth strike through her coat despite the cold air. Even without concentrating she could feel it, not just as a source of light and heat, but as a source of potential, of waiting. For a moment the mare was horribly tempted to open that link and see what it would let her do. Fusion paused, suddenly suspicious, but there was no alien tang to the thought, no feeling of crystal. All mine, she thought wryly, this time.

A few fast strides and she brought her wings down hard, the ground sinking away as each beat pulled her further into the sky. In contrast to the dark reputation of the place she was headed for -- even the Masters spoke of Security in hushed tones -- the land she flew over was astoundingly beautiful. Light, almost liquid in the way it spilled through the little valleys and forests that covered this area, lit up the low mist and filled the landscape with an ethereal glow, as if everything shone from within. The mist would linger for a few more kiloseconds until the sun burnt it off, but until then it was like the world was made of light.

The forests, all a patchwork of greens and ambers, rolled away beneath her hooves. Fusion didn't really know the area too well -- unless a pony was part of the weather team there was little reason to travel -- so she dipped into her shadow sight periodically to check her bearing and range. At this height the universe was almost completely black, with only the occasional point of pastel light marking out another pony on some unknowable errand. Down below it was another story. 

The landscape glowed with a hard neon radiance, hidden rivers of laser pure colours flowing under the ground. She was far too distant to make out the individual pinpoints, but the Master's subterranean cities glowed from all the magically active gems and crystals that formed a large part of their technology. Rectilinear blocks connected by twisting veins that branched and split and merged, not on just a single level but layer upon layer down into the ground. It was like looking at the circulatory map of a body, some monstrous creature spread out across a whole world. 

The only time you ever saw it was from up here; at ground level all the lights merged together into an indistinct haze. It was pretty in its own way, although the sight did nothing to improve Fusion's spirits. So many... she thought, fighting the hypnotic pull of the lights. The patterns made for excellent navigation aids, but you couldn't actually see ground level easily; the temptation to fly low over the lights was hard to resist and bound to end messily. The mare corrected her path slightly and opened her real eye, hunting for a sign of her ultimate destination.

"There it is," she muttered, slowing and starting to spiral up to the correct altitude to enter the Security Centre's access shaft. She was a little early so took her time, examining the facility both magically and optically.

With normal vision the place was impressively large; a funnel-shaped pit maybe a kilolength across at the mouth, tapering down to half a kilolength before descending as a straight sided cylinder. A continuous stream of winged and mechanical traffic flew in and out of the tube, the outbound flights fanning off to all points of the compass. As the mare gained height she could start to see into the pit itself; at this time of day it was in deep shadow, so was illuminated by a ring of titanic floodlights that shone down from the cylinder's walls. 

She was too high to see much detail, but even this close to dawn the cavernous entrance was a literal hive of activity. Fusion checked her surroundings; nothing -- machine, pony or gryphon -- was within easy visual range. She was especially careful about the half bird, half cat carnivores; their eyesight was almost supernaturally good, but even the sharpest of eyes would find it difficult to pick out the glow of a minor spell at this range and against a lit sky.

All magic involved the convincing of matter or energy to behave at odds with the classical laws of physics; most could be interpreted as local reductions in entropy. Fusion concentrated for a moment, visualising the correct geometry in her head before filling the shapes with a whisper of her power. The scene in front of her billowed and distorted wildly as carefully shaped zones of air were pressurised by gentle, but very specific telekinesis, stabilizing into a distorted, but highly magnified image of the entrance pit almost directly below her.

Fusion started to flutter her wings in a hover, trying to keep her body still enough that the limited range of motion of her head and neck would keep her eyes at the focal point of the invisible lens array she'd created below her. This was the dangerous bit; from the ground she'd be appear as a distorted image of herself -- although hopefully she was high enough that nobody would notice. A few more subtle adjustments and the view sprang into sharp focus.

Lining the vertical walls of the pit were the destinations of the inbound flights; row upon row of openings and hatches, some small enough for a single pony, others big enough to take heavy cargo floaters. As Fusion watched, a pair of the black vehicles that haunted her nightmares shot out of one medium sized opening, paying no heed to the winged fliers in their path. Those in the way, a mixture of pony and gryphon as far as the mare could tell, scattered in panic to avoid impact; one unfortunate gryphon tumbled wildly as he was caught in the turbulence of their passing. 

Fusion's eye widened. It wouldn't pay to spend too long in that congested airspace.

Shadow sight showed a similar picture, except here she could see how the entrance connected to structures under the ground. Unlike every other entrance she'd seen, there was only one artery connecting it to the rest of the underground world; the rest of the installation was completely isolated. The site itself was large and curled around the entrance pit like a snake swallowing its own tail. She could see the open volumes of hangars and the general shapes of artificial caverns, but that was about it. There was a layer of something that glittered and gleamed over everything else; her shadow sight couldn't penetrate it.

Shaking her head, Fusion switched back to her real eye and dove for the entrance platform, following the little whispers from her comms disk as it guided her to the correct hatch.
===

As openings in the pit went, this one was on the small side, an empty platform maybe five bodylengths square set half back into the wall. At the back were a closed set of Master-scale doors, an interface terminal and a single bored-looking gryphon guard. The gryphon, currently sitting on his haunches and slouching against the side wall, perked up when the mare settled to a four-hoofed landing at the edge of the platform.

The gryphon, a little shorter, but more heavily built than Fusion, was one of the common 'eagle' hybrids, with startlingly white head feathers contrasting with the dark golden-brown plumage that covered what she could see of the front half of his body. His wings, apart from the leading edges which were covered in black armour scales, were half unfurled in what the mare would have interpreted as aggression or excitement in another pony. He was dressed in an abbreviated version of the battledress she'd seen at the training centre; a harness-like structure that covered his front and hindquarters with flexible black scales, all glittering with the characteristic patterns of fullerene carbon weave. A light-weight smartgun, linked to a slim visor lit from within by an odd diffuse glow, sat on a rail over his right shoulder.

The armour was cut back around the mid shoulder to give the required freedom of movement for flight, as well as over his foreclaws to keep the large, highly polished -- and currently gloved in flexible plastic to keep them sharp -- talons free. His big yellow eyes followed her as she walked up to the terminal, wings relaxing slightly as the screen lit up at her approach.

So engrossed was she in the display, that Fusion didn't notice when he padded silently up behind her.

"What are you here for?"

The voice was scratchy, filled with menacing overtones and came from just behind her left ear. Predictably, Fusion yelped, wings flaring out in shock and catching the trooper across the face. The mare danced sideways, horn flaring bright enough to cast shadows as she wheeled to face her ambusher. The spells, always close to the surface of her mind in these last few stressful days, popped into sharp relief, almost visible as she formed the necessary patterns. 

In an instant the gryphon was overlaid with little purple squares at shoulder and chest as her energy sensitivity picked out the locations of his armour's superconducting power packs. Further glows appeared, representations of the spells Fusion was preparing; a force wall barricade to keep the gryphon at bay while her telekinesis gathered around him like a giant clawed paw, ready in an instant to snap shut with all of the mare's panicked strength. The power built with frightening speed; all this was complete in far less than a heartbeat from the last syllable leaving the soldier's beak. 

"You should see your face!"

Fusion froze, the spells only an instant away from becoming real, as the words combined with the open beak and bright eyed expression on the half bird's face. He's laughing at me! she thought. Her anger rose, threatening to bubble over and break the fragile control she had over the power she'd collected. A brief struggle and she got a grip on her emotions, letting the power fade and smiling weakly at the soldier.

"You got me," she said, a little shakily. You don't know how close you came to ruining everything, she thought, the sudden horror of what she might have done making her flanks damp with sweat.

The gryphon had the good grace to look a little guilty, even if the laughter didn't quite leave his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said in the same scratchy, hissy voice they all seemed to have, "When I saw how intent you were I couldn't resist. I've been here since midnight and you're the first person I've seen." He paused, looking thoughtful. "I think I'm getting a bit stir-crazy. Anyway, you seem a little lost, can I help?"

Fusion, who hadn't had any luck persuading the terminal to divulge her actual meeting location, gave a genuine smile. "That would be very kind, thank you."

He nudged her away from the screen, balancing on his haunches to press one plastic sheathed talon against his heavy looking collar, while touching the terminal's input panel with his other foreclaw. "Can't access much, but I should be able to find you." He did something to the panel and Fusion's picture popped up, captioned with her full name and ident string. "Fusion Pulse, huh? You ponies sure have funny names," he said with a side-long glance. "I'm Olvir Bergthor, by the way."

"Good to meet you, Olvir," Fusion said politely, sure she'd mangled the alien sounding name despite a careful attempt at pronunciation.

"Ah, here's the problem; you're too early. The system only releases the information a few hundred seconds before due time. "Quite how that is supposed to improve security is beyond me," he said with a whisper, casting a slightly nervous glance over one shoulder. "You'll have to wait. You can stay here if you want."

There was a hopeful note in the gryphon's voice. He's bored, Fusion thought, relieved to have somewhere out of sight to wait the half kilosecond or so until her appointment. Perhaps he can tell me something about this place?

"So why are you here -- if you can say?" he said, finishing the sentence hastily.

"My orders are a little short on detail; hopefully to talk to the group of ponies that were brought in a few days ago -- might be as much as a quarter of a megasecond?" Fusion paused, then decided to see what this soldier could tell her. "You haven't seen anything, have you?"

"Oh, that bunch, the load that were pulled in after that big alert," he said.

Fusion hadn't quite thought about it that way; she knew that there had been a response, but this meant the effects were much more wide reaching than she'd thought. "Yes, that sounds like them," she said, ears drooping with remembered guilt.

"The rest of the barracks has been talking about them. Can't tell you much, I'm afraid; they've got some of the Rippers guarding them. Us regulars aren't allowed near."

"Rippers?" Fusion asked, starting to feel alarmed.

"Internal Security's version of the Military's 'Talons', you've heard of them? No? Well, they're front line shock troops. We've not been able to understand why; you ponies never normally cause any problems." He looked thoughtful, scratching under his collar with one careful claw. "In fact, I don't ever remember ponies being kept here." Olvir cocked his head at Fusion in an obvious questioning expression.

"I wish I knew," Fusion said, "it makes no sense to me either. I was told that they were here for investigation--" She bit off her reply, shying away from what Salrath had told her when she'd first met the Agent. Please let Korn be telling the truth, she thought, even though she was certain he'd been lying.

The conversation drifted off to areas relating to both their roles in serving the Masters; Olvir had as little experience of ponies as Fusion did of gryphons, and was curious about everything. She used that to her advantage, discovering interesting things like the numbers of gryphons stationed at this base, the kinds of things they did and where they lived during 'off' periods. 

By the time her communicator pinged and told Fusion her final destination, she'd had time to demonstrate her telekinesis to the fascinated soldier; in return he'd shown her his gun and armour, talking about what it was like to shoot and pulling off his visor to let her squint into the heads-up display as he pointed the firearm at various locations on the Pit's wall. The mare filed all this away, unable to escape the nagging thought that she'd have to come back sometime soon -- this time without orders -- and rescue the missing ponies.

An instant later, the terminal updated to show the same information. The gryphon glanced at the screen, nodded and pointed out across the central shaft with one talon. "See that hangar just below the second ring of lights, just left of centre? That's the one you want," he said.

Fusion nodded; when she'd swept the pit with her shadow sight she'd noticed the collection of pastel glows in the centre of that space. They were nothing like the hard, pure colours of the Master's crystal thaumic technology and she'd suspected they were ponies. "Thank you," she said, smiling warmly at the soldier and gathering herself for takeoff. 

"Hey, no problem. Best of luck!" he said, voice rising to a shout as the white mare stepped off the platform and fell into the pit.

> 18 - No Good Choices (2)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist


=== Chapter 18 (remastered): No Good Choices (2) ===

Fusion dropped off the edge with half folded wings and let her speed build before twisting them sharply and rocketing across the open centre of the shaft. She paid attention to the multitude of other openings, adjusting her trajectory to avoid the occasional gryphon and a single heavy lift floater that had chosen that moment to descend through the middle of the pit. She kept her speed high and within a few breaths had reached the opposite wall, flaring her wings and backstroking frantically to kill her forward velocity and avoid crashing into the cage structure that filled the middle of the hangar space.

She hadn't seen it from her starting position, having assumed the hangar would be an essentially empty volume, and had been paying more attention to the risk of collision in the congested airspace of the pit than where she was headed. The cage had an improvised look to it; a cubic construction of metal bars strung with mesh, more similar to temporary fencing than anything else. It was large, over fifteen bodylengths square and three high, and bare of anything except a water trough, food dispenser and one of the fluidised bed latrines she'd experienced while in medical isolation. There was no floor covering, just raw concrete painted with cryptic lines and abbreviations. 

Clustered in the middle, as far away from the cage walls as possible, was a tight huddle of ponies. All were young, made smaller by the expanse of the enclosure and the adult sized thaumic restraint collar each wore. Eyes fixed on the group, Fusion came to an untidy landing between the barrier and hangar wall, wingtips thrumming as they stroked the metal mesh. She searched, hunting for the familiar size and colour of Random Walk among the foals.

Fusion's jaw clenched and she fought to keep her face expressionless as she took in the details of the scene. Gone was the joy and wonder she'd seen on the foal's faces immediately after they were Blessed, replaced instead with despair and the dull hopelessness of a trapped animal. None had moved at her arrival, but every visible eye tracked her as she stepped up to the mesh, almost hypnotised by the sight.

There, in the middle of the pack, was a pony closer to adult size, with tan coat and a close-cropped black mane. She lay there, wings unfurled to their full stretch and covering as many of the foals as she could, trying to shelter her charges from an a world turned unexpectedly hostile.

"Fusion Pulse TC4668." It was a statement, not a question, and came from a heavily built gryphon that approached her from around the far corner of the cage. The soldier, with similar armour to Olvir, but a different insignia -- some kind of skull slashed by three red lines -- studied Fusion with open hostility, orange eyes glaring from a grey feathered head. The grey continued all the way back to her hind quarters, where a black-ringed tail was lashing the air.

"Yes," the mare replied, voice sounding thick. Calm, I must remain calm, she thought. "I am here to see Random Walk DP2114."

The trooper, a female as far as Fusion could tell from her limited experience of gryphons, hissed in displeasure. "Stay here," she said, then stalked back to her squadmates, currently lounging behind the cage. There were some snarled orders and a soldier -- one of the common white and brown eagle/lion variants, sitting slightly apart from the other three -- reluctantly trotted to a mesh panel and tapped something onto a device attached to one edge. There was a click and the gryphon pulled the door open.

"Pony Random Walk, to the gate," he said in a loud, harsh voice. 

There was a general stirring as Random stood and carefully extricated herself from the huddle, stepping delicately through the tightly packed foals. Stepping up to the gryphon, she bowed her head and followed him out of the cage, casting one quick glance over her shoulder as she did so. Behind her the huddle of foals seemed to contract slightly as the limited comfort provided by their teacher vanished.

Fusion studied Random as her friend approached. She didn't seem to be in any physical pain, although her right wing shoulder joint looked distinctly swollen compared to the left one. She stared at Fusion with dull, uninterested eyes, stopping when the second soldier snapped his beak at her. Little tremors ran through her, the skin on her upper legs twitching and shivering as if she was being plagued by flies, and she was missing about a third of the feathers on each wing. 

This was the thing that made the fur on Fusion's spine stand on end; they hadn't been evenly clipped as was sometimes done to very young foals to prevent them flying before they were ready. They had been pulled out, most likely by Random herself. There had been dark whispers of such things; ponies under extreme stress managing to side-step the Maker's Test with this self-harm, the pain of the body distracting the mind. 

The gryphon trooper turned and walked away, leaving Fusion standing there looking at the shell of her friend and wondering what to do now. A familiar anger started to rise in her breast; she wanted nothing more than to cut loose with her full power and smash this abomination of a facility to rubble and rapidly expanding gasses.

"...usion?"

At the faint whisper, Fusion's anger fled and her ears swivelled forward to catch the faint sounds coming from Random.

"Are you real?"

The mare took an involuntary step backwards at the strange question. Lowering her head to look into Random's eyes, she stepped in close again and nuzzled the other mare's neck, hoping to provoke some reaction. Random froze for a second, so still that even the twitching of her skin stopped, then her legs buckled and she slumped bonelessly to the floor. Tears rolled down her muzzle, her mouth opening and shutting, but no words emerged.

"I'm here, Random, I'm real," Fusion said quietly into her friend's ear, sitting down next to the other pony and trying to keep her voice even and soothing.

"I-I-I thought you were another t-test," Random said, pressing her head into Fusion's shoulder as if to confirm the white mare's words. 

"What are they doing to you? I was told you were receiving extra training..." Fusion tailed off, willing the other mare to talk to her. 

The words poured out of Random in a rush, the rapid speech of a pony who didn't know how much time she would have. "It's like school, when they let us experience the memories of the old heroes, only nopony ever made these memories--"

Fusion made an encouraging noise in the back of her throat, starting to understand what had been done to her friend.

"--they connect you to a machine and it puts you in a scenario, tests you to check you are making the right choices. They started off easy, but on the second day something changed. They came for us more frequently and the tests got harder and harder; after a while there are no good choices and no matter what you do the Maker punishes you. They made me do terrible things, I think I k-killed Packet." Here the mare pulled back from Fusion, eyes desperately searching her friend's face. "It was so real, is he...?"

"Packet is fine," Fusion said firmly, "you've been here for two days, it's all a part of the tests they are putting you through." The mare now understood Random's first words to her; she was obviously having trouble separating the real world from the simulated environments used to test her Blessing. Her eye drifted over to the mass of foals in the cage. "Are they doing the same to the foals?" she asked, the answer obvious from the miserable expressions she'd seen on their faces.

"I think so, we've been ordered not to discuss the testing. Every time one of them is taken away they come back changed, withdrawn. It's hard enough for me, but they have no experience to draw on." She nosed under one wing as she spoke, the words becoming indistinct as her teeth found another flight feather and started to tug at it. 

"Random, don't," Fusion said sharply, trying to distract the other mare, "my Master wants you to train me on the memory spell you use with the foals to teach them magic."

Random's head pulled out from under her tan wing, a large, bloody-ended feather dangling from her lips. "They want me to help?" The hope in her voice was almost painful to hear. 

Fusion nodded firmly, then narrowed her eyes at the collar her friend still wore. "Wait here, I'll get that thing off you." The mare stood and trotted smartly over to the little group of gryphon troops, all seated on a padded mat and talking amongst themselves. Standing in front of the one who had opened the cage, she cleared her throat, only to be ignored. Fusion waited another couple of seconds then, starting her telekinesis magic with the barest whisper of power, bent down to place her head level with the soldier. "I am here under orders to be magically trained by that pony. I need her collar removed for the duration of the training."

The soldier turned his head slowly, big orange eyes staring into Fusion's own. His beak opened slightly to increase the implied threat, the razor edges glittering in the lights. The glare was obviously meant to intimidate; a megasecond ago it would have, she'd have run away or, if her orders were specific enough, begged and pleaded. Not now, though. The mare gazed back unflinchingly, doing her best to project an image of bored indifference. "Please," she said flatly. 

Compared to Salrath, this trained killer held no fears for her. She had her orders and this bird had no right to impede her without contacting a Master first. A part of her almost wanted the soldier to do something stupid. "Fine," she said, "your cooperation has been noted. I'll remove it myself." With that she wheeled away and trotted back to Random, feeding more power into her horn and making it glow with an obvious aura. Behind her there was a scrabbling noise and the sound of running, the gryphon catching up just as Fusion sat back down next to her friend.

Even Fusion could recognise the fury on the soldier's face; for a second the mare thought he would actually strike her. The moment passed and the solder plucked a small device from his armour harness and touched it to the collar around Random's neck. There was a faint click and the collar sprang open, falling to the concrete with a clatter. Not waiting for permission, Fusion plucked the jewelled ring from the other mare's horn and held the whole contraption out for the gryphon.

"Two kiloseconds, not a second longer," the gryphon snarled, snatching it from Fusion's magic, then clipping it to his armour and stomping back to his squadmates, none of whom appeared sympathetic to his humiliation. 

Fusion watched him go, satisfying herself that she wouldn't be disturbed, then turned to Random and smiled. "That's better. Shall we get started?"

Random took a deep breath and nodded, seeming to come alive for the first time since Fusion had seen her here. Her horn started to glow with a deep golden light and Fusion could feel something, some ill defined presence, as if somepony was standing behind her, just out of eyeshot. 

Random had her eyes closed now and moved her head in slow careful arcs. "This is always easier with foals, not so much magic to get in the way. The sharing is quite delicate; the patterns involved in certain classes of spells are highly disruptive," she said.

Fusion's ears pricked up at this, remembering those crystalline memories the Maker-thing had given her. If there's some way to block it... she thought. "Can you give any examples? So I know what to avoid?"

"It's the complexity of the spell that's most important; if your mind is active then it's hard for the sharing to take hold."

"Interesting," Fusion said. Both times this happened to me I was sustaining a spell; the power levels were high but the actual complexity was low, she thought. Anypony could do telekinesis and, while complex to setup, force fields were simple to maintain. "Okay, what do I need to do now?"

"Nearly got it... there!"

The sensation of somepony standing behind her suddenly became very strong. Then the world faded to black.

The first thing Fusion noticed was the silence. Startled, she glanced around and saw that, although she was still lying at the side of the hangar, the cage, foals and gryphons had all vanished. Out the open side of the hangar there was nothing but a vague and featureless blur that shifted continuously, just like she was looking through rain-soaked glass. In front of her, Random jumped to her hooves with none of the stiffness Fusion would have expected for a pony in her physical condition. 

It's a construct, Fusion thought. "I don't ever remember my early magic lessons being like this!" she blurted out.

"That's because our teacher was very good; also it helps we did it in one of the training centre's berms. It's easy to create a convincing sky. This is the first step, a kind of virtual environment that the teacher has near total control over, one where there is no magical background. You don't need to do this, but this will be easier for me without any distractions. Oh -- I'm sure you realise this, but you are still sitting in the hangar; it's basically a lucid dream. Anything you do here has no impact on your body, so feel free to walk around. You are disconnected from your voluntary muscles." Here the mare tailed off, then shook her head. "Now I can cast the sharing proper." Random's horn started to glow again.

There was a sensation of pressure without movement, like the feeling you get when standing next to a locked door when somepony was pushing against the other side. Fusion opened the door in her mind and invited the presence in.

"There, can you hear me?"

Fusion twitched, Random's voice had come from the same place her communicator normally spoke from, some undefined location inside her own head. I can, she thought.

"Talk normally; it helps to focus your thoughts into a form that's easier to read. You're not actually talking, of course, but it helps to bring things to the surface."

"I can," Fusion said.

"Good. Now, I want you to start to use your telekinesis to lift that box, but don't actually lift it." As Random spoke, a grey plastic shipping crate appeared on the ground between them.

Fusion did so, forming the pattern in her mind but withholding all but a fragment of her power. As she did so, something moved through her and seemed to twist the pattern into a new and far more complex shape.

"This is the basic construct; you modify it here," the magical pattern shifted slightly, "if you want to visit them, so to speak. This is the spell I'm using right now, by the way." The pattern changed again. "...or you can use this if you want to invite them into your own head. That one works like this--"

This time Fusion was on the outside of the door; she pushed gently and--

The world flicked around one hundred and eighty degrees and Random disappeared, replaced by a white coated, pink maned pony with a shocked look on her face. Slowly the mouth twisted into a smile. I'm sitting in Random's head, Fusion thought, she makes this seem so easy-- 

Then the rest of Random's senses seemed to expand and overlay her own. Touch was the last and most obtrusive; smell and sound didn't really change, but Fusion was prone while Random was standing. There was the oddest sense of vertigo, of knowing she was lying on her belly on concrete, yet feeling like she was standing. Unlike the other senses, the illusion wasn't perfect. Some trace of her friend's real body leaked through; a general ache in her wings, little pinpoints of pain where the feathers had been pulled out.

"So if I want to leave I just..." Fusion gave her magic a little twist and was back to looking at Random from the outside. Another push and the presence in her own head was gone.

Random smiled back at her, an actual, genuine simile. "See, easy. Want to try it on me?"

Fusion practiced, and after a few false starts was able to demonstrate the technique to her friend's satisfaction.

Random suddenly winced, then hissed as if in pain. "I think that's all I can show you," she said. 

"Time's up," said a loud, raspy voice.

The real world came back with a rush; cage, foals and angry gryphon suddenly popping back into existence. The white and brown feathered soldier had just finished putting the jewelled ring back on Random's horn and had one foreclaw wrapped around the collar. Fusion watched, disorientated, as the gryphon pulled the tan mare roughly to her hooves and shoved the half choking pony in the direction of the cage.

Fusion gritted her teeth and kept silent, knowing that if she did anything the other ponies would bear the brunt of any revenge. She yearned to break Random's Blessing and give the mare some relief from all this, but dared not. The gryphon passed Random over to one of his squad mates, then returned to glare at Fusion.

"You have completed your orders, pony," he spat. "You have ten seconds to leave before I report you."

The mare held the stare for a long second, then wheeled and galloped for the edge of the hangar. Unmindful of anything that might have been in her way, Fusion flared her wings and accelerated into the sky, desperate to be away from this place before she lost control and did something that everypony might regret. 

===

The tears streamed back along Fusion's muzzle, squeezed out from between tight closed eyelids and whipped away by the slipstream of her passage through the air. She navigated purely by her shadow sight, following the great arterial tracks of active gems and crystals filling the Master's tunnel system. 

Most of a pony's flight was magical -- even their great, swan-like wings couldn't lift them even slightly -- reducing their effective mass until purely aerodynamic forces were sufficient to control their movements. With special skill a pony could achieve extreme feats of flight; most of those gifted ponies went to work in the weather teams, controlling and shepherding storm systems to ensure the enormous farms were watered correctly.

On some occasions power could substitute for skill. Fusion accelerated in an upward spiral, clearing the pit and the crowded airspace above it in a score of seconds. Beyond caring what the Master's saw, she opened herself to the energy in the local space, redirecting it to fuel her forward progress. Around her the air temperature dropped precipitously, water vapour condensing into a short-lived fog of ice crystals and forming a diffuse contrail behind her. The battering of the wind on her mane became intense and she formed another spell in her mind, a conical force field that sheltered her body and left only her wings exposed.

Still it wasn't enough, not enough to let her escape the image of the foals clustering around an anguished looking Random, the mare already reaching beneath one tattered wing to grip another feather. And when she runs out of feathers-- Fusion shied away from the thought, trying not to think about Redshift at the infirmary. All her agonising, all her debating whether it was worth the suffering came down to this one fact: Was she prepared to let her friend endure a painful death so she could take to slow and relatively safe route to ponykind's liberation? 

This capped all her vague plans with a very definite time limit. What exactly was she prepared to do to free her kind from this arbitrary and cruel treatment? She thought back to the unnamed gryphon jailer, how close she'd come to attacking her. It was different when it was just her own pain; she could take that, take any level of suffering to protect those she cared about. When it was somepony being punished because of her... she suddenly had a keen understanding for what had driven Random to fight the gryphons at the training centre.

A certainty settled over her. She always knew she'd be able to die for something; this was drilled into every foal every time they experienced the training centre's stored memories, all those ponies giving their lives for the Masters. Today had been the last straw, that little extra pressure that broke the barrier of reluctance and uncertainty in her mind. She was sure now, this was the only way forward.

Around her, unnoticed, the air bellowed and screamed as Fusion ripped it apart on her way home. 

===

Unsurprisingly, her return trip was considerably faster than the outbound one. Noon was still a few kiloseconds away as she cantered to a fast landing near their family's shelter; as was normal for this time of day the corral was almost deserted. She'd seen Slipstream, basket of vegetables in his teeth and heading for one of the more distant shelters, as she'd flown overhead; other than him there was nopony at all on their side of the corral.

The sound of her hooves hitting grass drew Gravity out from under the red and white striped canopy, a shallow bowl of Master's food floating by her side. "That was quick," she said, smiling at Fusion. "Were you trying to break a record or do you want to switch to one of the weather teams?"

Fusion eyed the bowl of pellets, wondering if there was any way to stop the mare from eating the stuff. No time like the present, she thought. "The security hub isn't the most fun of places," she said seriously, "but I got what I went for."

The blue mare's smile faltered. "How is Random doing, did you see any of the foals?"

Tan head nibbling at ragged wings. Fusion shook her head violently to lose the disturbing vision and cleared her throat. "I'll tell you later," she said, not trusting herself to make up a convincing lie. "How about we start your training?"

Gravity's ears pricked up and her eyes widened. She hurriedly put the bowl down and trotted to Fusion's side, looking up at the slightly taller mare. "Yes!" she said excitedly, then looked a little doubtful. "What about your eye, we're only supposed to do this after it's better?"

"Spiral only need to open the lid; she can do that later this evening. Not to mention that--" She paused to give her sister a twisted smile. "--I need my horn for this, not my eyes. Eye."

Gravity blinked at the expression on her sister’s face, confused by the bitterness. "Are you sure? We can do this later...?" she said hesitantly.

"No, let's get started." Fusion hooked one wing a her sister's withers and guided her towards one of the orchard groves dotted around the corral.

The ground was dry and carpeted with a hoof-thick layer of shed leaves, forming a comfortable resting place for the pair as they settled to their bellies under one of the larger trees.

Fusion stared into her sister's expectant eyes, then sighed. "You remember back to your first magic lessons? Back Draft used a couple of spells -- one to show us what to do and the other to allow us to practice safely. I don't think I need the second one, but do you mind if we try it a bit later so I can have a bit of practice?" She grinned at Gravity's impatient nod. "Excellent. I'll go first and show you how I do it." 

Fusion opened her shadow sight and examined her sister's head. Now she'd done this a few times the threads of the Blessing were obvious, fine wires of pale green growing like a fungus through Gravity's brain. She steeled herself and delicately felt the threads, focussing in on the area where they merged with Gravity's horn material. Much to her relief, the actual affected area was small. Fusion carefully built the spell in her mind, mapping it to the exact volume the Blessing was tied into.  

This is it, there's no going back now. Please, please, please let this work, she prayed, then fired a short, sharp pulse of magic into a point no bigger than an apple pip at the base of Gravity's horn. That tiny volume abruptly went dark, crazed by a tangled spider's web of fine cracks. The Blessing started to slowly fade.

Gravity blinked at her, muzzle wrinkling as if she was trying to dislodge a fly without moving. "I can feel something funny, is that -- OW!" She jerked back from Fusion, forehooves coming up to wrap protectively around her head. "Maker damn it, Fusion, what did you do!?"

"Sorry!" Fusion said in a panicked tone, "are you okay? I only had a chance to try this once with Random."

Gravity rubbed the side of her head and lowered her hooves. "I'll live, but let's just say you should stick to thaumophysics in future. I'm not sure you'd be too popular as a teacher."

Heart rate slowly dropping back towards normal, Fusion smiled weakly. "No, you're right about that. Let me try again; I know where I went wrong." The mare formed the correct pattern in her mind and all of a sudden there was the feeling of somepony else in her head. So far so good, she thought. 

Gravity had the strangest expression on her face; as Fusion watched, her mouth opened and shut like a fish gulping air. The white mare smiled in genuine amusement. Not just me, then, she thought. "If you have quite finished making funny faces...?" she said, trying not to laugh.

"Sorry," Gravity said, "it's just so strange. Imagine being a teacher and doing this all the time!"

===

Gravity resisted the urge to blow a raspberry just to see what it looked like, dragging her attention back to her sister's display of magic. Fusion had just swept a patch of ground clear, piling up the leaves into a shallow mound. She could feel the telekinetic force at work, just as if she was doing it herself.

"You can feel the way the magic is built?" Fusion said.

"Yes," she said, impatience slightly colouring her voice.

"Good, here's the first trick."

Gravity felt Fusion reach out again, this time enfolding a large patch of ground in her telekinetic field. The magic had an odd flavour to it, like it was distorted by a secondary spell. Around them both, the carpet of leaves acquired a silver sheen as frost formed on every edge and wrinkle. Gravity's breath started to fog. This is what she did on the training ground, the blue mare thought. Ahead of them both, the patch of ground gave a shiver and creaked loudly before rising a hoofspan into the air on a halo of white magic.

She drank it in, memorizing the extra little spell as her sister allowed the multitonne block of earth to settle back down. It was so obvious! Using that technique she'd be able to outperform any pony at her launch site, even old Geodetic, who'd been doing the job for gigaseconds and was practically a legend.

"That's the first part," Fusion said.

More? There's more than this? Gravity thought with a flash of jealousy, wondering how her sister had managed not one, but two ground-breaking advances in magical technique in less than a megasecond. She frowned in concentration as Fusion seemed to turn her attention outwards, like she was focussing her shadow sight on some remote object. There was something there, some distant point of warmth...

Gravity gasped as a tingle ran through their shared body, a pulse of sensation running from muzzle to tail root, just like they'd walked through a powerful force field or had stood too close to a high voltage power line. The point of warmth seemed to bloom, filling them both with boundless energy. The blue mare sensed that what she was feeling was the merest trickle, a carefully controlled pinhole into something vast and potent; she shrank away from the contact, suddenly afraid of the potential it represented.

As soon as it had come, the power bled away, returned to its source or diffused into the surroundings by a reversal of the first technique Fusion had used. Around the seated mares the frost quietly disappeared, turning into little curls of mist where it met the cool air. Gravity took a deep breath, suddenly feeling very warm.

"Going to have to watch out for that," Fusion said absently, "looks like it's going to take a bit of practice to get the hang of it."

"How many times have you done that?" Gravity asked, feeling distinctly overawed. She felt her sister's face twist into a bitter smile.

"That was the second time. Why don't you give it a go?"

No! Gravity thought, suddenly afraid, then twitched as sharp pain stabbed through her head. "Okay," she said in a small voice, confused by the way the pain had tailed off almost before it had begun, certainly before she had changed her mind. She felt a gentle push, then she was back in her own head and looking back at her sister. The white mare looked unaccountably sad, despite all she'd achieved.

"If you let me in I'll guide you, make sure it goes okay," Fusion said.

Gravity nodded jerkily and allowed the presence in when she felt a gentle pressure in her mind. She started to form the first spell, linking it to her telekinesis in the same way her sister had. Instead of picking up a huge mass of earth as a test, she levitated a small pebble and sighted down it towards a slight rise in the ground a couple of lengths away. Gathering her strength she pushed with all her might, shoving the stone away. 

The pebble disappeared with an ear-splitting crack that left both ponies' ears ringing and punched a three hoof wide crater in the grass. Gravity blinked in shock, shaking her head to dislodge the bits of dirt and leaf litter now lodged in her mane. Despite what she'd seen Fusion do in the training ground, it still didn't seem real until now. Beside her Fusion collapsed the force field disk she'd raised in front of her face. The white mare turned to look at Gravity, raising one eyebrow questioningly, breath steaming in the suddenly cold air.

"I wondered if that might happen," she said, suppressing a smile. "Want to try the other one now?"

Nodding again, Gravity closed her eyes, directing her shadow sight outwards and looking for that point of warmth. She searched where her sister had found it -- there was something there, but it seemed slippery and hard to see clearly. At the back of her head she felt Fusion's attention sharpen and take on overtones of disappointment and... was that fear? She's promised her Master she'd be able to train me, Gravity thought, I can't fail her. Perhaps this thing is different for each pony. The mare widened her search, looking in other locations for something similar.

It wasn't warm, but cold. A somehow comforting sensation of mass, of tremendous weight moving at enormous velocity. She focused her gaze; there were at least two of them, one large, the other small and seeming to be blurred as if it was a tight cluster of things rather than just one. The more she looked, the more she found, smaller and smaller things occupying a wide, flat disk, each one moving at a different speed. She shivered, an odd tingling sensation sweeping her body from muzzle to tail root.

The arrangement was somehow familiar and Gravity continued looking while her mind worked over the problem. She could sense Fusion thinking too, but her sister seemed even more confused than she was. "It's the moons," she blurted out, "and the debris ring!" Everything fell into place at that moment; her sister was in some way connected to the sun while she was linked to the moon and everything in orbit. She opened her eyes and shifted her gaze from the solar disk on her sister's white flank to the pale crescent on black on her own.

"How? How can this be?" she said. Everything felt so right, as if she'd had her eyes closed all her life and all of a sudden been able to open them. Her gaze flicked back to her rump. "What's happened to my tail!? she yelped.

By the Maker, it's full of stars, she thought. Her normally pale blue tail had turned a much darker shade and seemed to be sprinkled with little glimmers and sparks.

"I don't know," Fusion said faintly. "I didn't expect this; but it does make a kind of sense though, our magic isn't the same. I've always been good at energy control, while your special talent is remote manipulation. Perhaps your mane is an odd manifestation of that, a bit like our labour tattoos. Mine does something similar, although it's more pastel colours than--" she paused, staring at Gravity's tail, "--than like a section of the night's sky." 

"Does... does it mean that if I use this power I'm changing the orbit of the moon?" Gravity felt the insides of her ears heat with a blush at this ridiculous statement. To her surprise Fusion appeared to be taking the question seriously.

"The power has to come from somewhere," she said slowly, "look what happens when you just use the local environment." Fusion paused, a sly smile crossing her face. "I do get to call you 'Luna' now."

Gravity winced, but found herself nodding. All that cold; how it worked made no sense to her -- she was as much an engineer as Fusion was a scientist, and the idea of being able to cause a local reduction in entropy to fuel another physical effect somewhere else was unimaginable. "I suppose that's why they call it magic," she said, looking at her tail and the way it seemed to shimmer with distant points of light, visible even in the dappled sunlight under the tree. There was an odd feeling of depth to the sight, like the lights were somehow much further away than they should have been. She released the unconscious hold she'd had on the moons, watching as her tail turned back to normal hair.

"Show me what yours looks like," she demanded.

===

After she'd had a kilosecond or so to get used to the new magical techniques, Gravity noticed her sister staring at her with unusual intensity. "What is it?" she said, feeling slightly uncomfortable. There was something about the other mare's expression, like she was trying to decide how to break bad news.

Fusion twitched, refocusing her eye on Gravity's face. "Sorry, I was just watching you with my shadow sight, seeing what it looks like from the outside."

"Really," Gravity said in a disbelieving tone.

"I have something I need to tell you, but--" here the mare shifted uncomfortably "--it will be hard to hear. If you don't mind, I'd like to share some of my memories with you. Things from the last few days."

Gravity stared back at her sister, suddenly worried by the intensity in her voice. "If you think it would help, of course I'll share with you. This is the other trick Random taught you?"

"Yes." Fusion took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm so sorry it's come to this, but there are no good choices left." 

A white nimbus surrounded her sister's horn and Gravity felt the now familiar sensation of pressure in her mind. Still puzzling out Fusion's last words, she opened the door and let the other mare in.

The world went dark and, when the light came back, was replaced by a dark plane of grass filled with motionless images of ponies, Masters and vehicles. In front of her knelt a copy of Fusion, wings wrapped tightly around a green colt, while a Master held a black circle of metal above the foal's head. The colt appeared to be struggling, trying to wriggle out from Fusion's grasp.

"I don't think you were near when they Blessed Tangent," Fusion said, appearing suddenly next to Gravity. "He was really scared of something he saw, but I couldn't understand what it was until I switched to shadow sight."

The scene changed, turning to silhouettes and shadows punctuated with the coloured glows of magically active gems and pony horns. Suddenly everything in the scene started to move as Fusion played the memory forwards. The crown touched the colt's head, causing Gravity to recoil slightly at the thick green tentacles that emerged from it. As she watched, the questing arms converged on the colt's head and started to do something to his brain. The scene froze again; the tentacles were gone, but little traces remained, laced through the skull from horn to brain stem and on down the spine.

"This is the Blessing; just a spell, nothing more. There's no divine touch, just automated casting systems built into the crown."

Gravity looked away, choosing to stare at her sister rather than the disquieting scene in front of her. "What are you saying? That this little spell somehow knows when you are thinking about disobedience?" A righteous anger started to creep into her voice. "How can you possibly believe that? There's no way any spell could do that." 

"How much do you remember of your physiology classes? Do you recognise the areas the spell is connected to?"

"A little," Gravity said, swallowing hard and looking closely at the colt's head. She traced the lines of thaumic energy, trying to remember what the different areas of the brain did. The threads were concentrated in the limbic system, deep in the core, with connections out to the neocortex. 

"It's tied into areas processing emotion and memory; whenever you feel guilt relating to the Masters it hurts you. The more guilt, the more pain. The spell knows nothing; it just reads your guilt. We punish ourselves."

"I don't believe any of this, why would you make something like this up?" Gravity shook her head vigorously, trying to silence the little voice of doubt. She immediately cringed in expectation of punishment, but nothing came. She held the position for a few seconds, then relaxed slightly, not quite believing that it wouldn't take her by surprise. 

Fusion had been watching closely and noticed the little flinch. "Didn't hurt, did it? You must have felt a little doubt then, but it didn't hurt."

Gravity's eyes widened. "What did you do?" she demanded.

"I set you free."

"You're not making sense," the blue mare pleaded, "stop this madness, I'm sure the Masters will forgive you."

Fusion remained quiet. "There's a word for what we are to the Masters. It's 'slave'. We are just tools, made useful by our ability to think. Don't tell me you haven't seen anything that makes you worried?"

Gravity stubbornly shook her head, but she was thinking of the surgical robot back at the institute and its highly adaptable restraint system, one big enough for a pony. Again there was the guilt from thinking bad thoughts; again there was no pain. She whinnied in distress, suddenly very confused.

"I'm really sorry, Grav, I had almost a megasecond to come to terms with this; this has hit you all at once." The white mare paced in circles, a curious mix of sorrow and determination on her face. "I can show you many other things, but here's a question for you: what happened to Random and her group of foals?"

"You said they were fine," Gravity mumbled.

"For now." Fusion blinked and the world went dark again. 

The next scene was unfamiliar to Gravity; a large room, one wall open to some kind of vertical shaft, with an improvised cage in the centre. In the cage was a sorry-looking huddle of ponies -- mostly foals, Gravity realised -- with a single adult in the middle. "What is this?" she demanded.

"This is where I was this morning. This is the Security Hub. My Master said that they were being retrained; I knew he was lying--"

"You have no right to judge a Master's actions," Gravity said sullenly, unable to draw her eyes away from the tableau. It must have been her first accident, she thought, she must have some kind of brain damage. The more she thought about it, the more it sounded like that was the answer. Her sister hadn't been herself since after that event; she'd been withdrawn and seemed scared all the time. She leant forward, searching Fusion's face for any sign of the pony she knew so well. "Listen, we can get you help," she said urgently, "I know you're good at what you do; the Masters--"  

Fusion shook her head slowly. "The best 'help' I can hope for at the paws of the Masters will be a quick death. If I thought that would fix the problem I might even visit the infirmary myself--"

"Don't say that!" Gravity shouted.

Fusion continued remorselessly. "--but it won't just be me. My Master, Academician Vanca, will experiment on you after she's tested me to destruction." Seeing Gravity's shocked face the white mare nodded grimly. "I can show you that memory too, if you like. The last pony Vanca had her paws on is nothing more than a carbon shadow blasted into the accelerator's backstop."

Gravity sat down with a thump, feeling dizzy. I don't believe it, she thought, I was told I'd be returning to the launch site after... After what? Her sister had recovered days ago, yet she hadn't been ordered back to her old job. Around her the memory started to play forward. Her initial unease built to a crawling horror as she watched Random, dead eyed and seeming to be in a trance, break down in front of her sister's image. Worse was to come. She listened to the tan mare's description of what was being done to her, then finally squeezed her eyes shut at the sight of the bloody feather dangling from Random's lips.

"You were there, do you think they deserve that?" Fusion said gently, unable to keep her eyes off the memory turned real. "I don't think any of them will last much longer." Her throat had closed up and the words came out choked and distorted, while tears pricked at her eyes.

"They fought against the Master's troops," Gravity replied, but the excuse seemed weak, even to her. This is wrong, she thought, then took a sharp breath in anticipation of the pain... which never came. This confused her further -- questioning a Master's actions always resulted in swift punishment -- and she thought back to Fusion's cryptic 'I've set you free' comment.

The answer came in a flash of horror and Gravity struggled to her hooves, backing away from her sister as fast as she could. Such was the shock that she could barely get the words out. "You've removed the touch of the Maker from me. Why? We were put here by the Maker to serve the Masters. How could you do this to me!?"

Fusion stepped forward, following her sister's unsteady retreat. "This might be the only chance our people have," she said urgently, leaning forward and staring at Gravity intently, "we can free them all if we do it right."

The words blasted through the blue mare like they had been delivered by a railgun, and she staggered back as if struck. Mouth opening and closing, unable to think of a response, let alone articulate it, Gravity blinked out from the memory.

The real world flicked back into place, dispelling the disturbing images that Fusion claimed to be her memories. Gravity was on her hooves even as Fusion sat there, blinking in confusion. "Stay away from me!" she shrieked, springing into the air and scattering the carpet of leaves with her first downstroke. 

Half blinded by tears, Gravity flew unsteadily away from the corral at tree-top height. Behind her, she heard the pounding of Fusion's wings, getting rapidly louder as the mare gained on her. 

"Gravity, please, don't do anything hasty," Fusion pleaded, her voice thin and high with fear. "At least talk to me!"

The blue mare felt the hesitant caress of her sister's magic, but ignored it. Why won't she just leave me alone, doesn't she know she's done enough damage already? Gravity thought, beating her wings harder in an effort to escape. The contact strengthened, exerting an irresistible pressure on her body, and she started to be pulled back. 

Confusion and horror gave way to a visceral fury and Gravity pivoted on one wing, wheeling around to face her tormentor. "Don't touch me," she screamed, her horn burning with violet fire as she lashed out with her power. 

Magic surged, and Fusion had no time to react before the pulse of pure force struck her. She gasped, all the breath driven out of her body by the impact, and flew backwards. Wings and legs trailing, the white mare was thrown violently into the trees she'd just climbed above, the air filling with the gunshot crackle of breaking branches. Underneath the leaves there was the sudden, awful, sound of a body striking something hard, then nothing but silence. 

Above the canopy, uncaring, Gravity accelerated into the sky.

> 19 - When Gravity Fails
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist



Let me show you a magic trick. I'm going to make this pencil disappear.
-- Joker, The Dark Knight.

=== Chapter 19 (remastered): When Gravity Fails ===

Author's note: 
This chapter is an alternate ending. It gets pretty dark (figuratively and literally...). You have been warned.


Salrath looked blearily at the wall screen and read the text of her report for what seemed like the twentieth time. It looked okay, but her well honed paranoia -- now very close to the surface since she'd missed the last dose of her medication -- made her find fault with everything. This is terrible, she thought, but Salrath is sick of it. With a stroke of one paw she sent the document off into the electronic void, destined for the board that would no doubt decide her future based on what she should have done, rather than what she actually did.

Working her jaw, she scratched with one paw at her stomach under where her utility vest stopped, while scrolling through her messages with the other. Most were the normal irrelevant rubbish that any large organization generated; invitations to meetings being carried out in other sectors, or talks on subjects she had no interest in, but there was one flagged urgent.

Thirty seconds later the now fully awake Agent was dashing down the corridor, typing instructions into her comms bracer while talking to the Security dispatcher. She had to call in all of her small number of favours, but by the time she reached the executive hangar she'd acquired both the equipment she needed and permission to borrow a fast aircar.

Dropping the heavy instrument case onto the rear seats, she tapped the coordinates into the autopilot and tried to relax as the vehicle lifted from its pad and accelerated out of the Pit. The message had been brief, only a few words -- a name and a location -- but startling in its implications. If this is true then Salrath will be a hero, the Agent thought. More to the point, she was right.

===

The blue mare paced the clearing in the patch of forest. After fleeing from her sister, Gravity had flown as hard as she could, hoping the fast, cold air would help clear her mind. It worked, if only a little.

"How could you do this to me!" she shouted to the forest. The emptiness in her head threatened to make her weep. I'll fix this, she thought, it will be alright soon. Her orders had been terse and to the point: 'Gravity Resonance TP5325 will stay in its current location until collected'.

After another kilosecond of pacing she finally heard the whispering hiss of an air vehicle, its crystal levitation drive completely silent and only betrayed by the sound of air over its hull. The craft -- a teardrop shaped black aircar -- did one fast pass, then circled around to land at the centre of the clearing. A Master stepped out, reaching back in to the vehicle to pick up a bulky-looking case. The mare stared at that case; she'd seen one like it before, a few days ago at the training ground.

Gravity, feeling suddenly lighter in the presence of a Master, cantered over, only to stop dead when she saw who it was. Her ears folded flat. "Greetings, Agent Salrath," she said, dropping to her knees on the grass. A sudden dread flooded through her; this was the Master who'd said that the foals were...

The Agent smiled at her, a grin full of sharp, white teeth. "Tell this one. Tell this one everything," she said.

"Yes, Master," Gravity said, bowing her head and staring at the ground. She started to talk, telling the Agent all that her sister had told her, and all that her sister had done. When she had finished she risked a look up at Salrath; if anything the Agent's smile had become even more shark-like, growing until it threatened to span her whole head. She cringed slightly at that smile. "Master," she said tentatively, "can you help me? I just want my sister back."

Salrath said nothing, just stood there and looked down at her. "This one can fix all the pony's problems." She opened the lid of the case, bringing out a circle of black metal. Little gems lined its inner surface, pulsing in a pattern that seemed to dance around the ring.

Gravity stared at the crown. Mouth opening slightly, she moistened her lips hungrily. "Please, Master," she said, leaning forward slightly. She can fix me. 

The Agent raised the crown over the mare's head for a second, then lowered it gently. "The pony is Blessed in the name of the Maker," she said mockingly.

Gravity's vision whited out and she fell sideways onto the grass.

When the mare awoke she felt good; as good as she had done when she'd received her labour tattoo. Little jolts of pleasure ran through her body as she thought back to the stressful conversation with the Agent. I did the right thing, she thought, the Maker has forgiven me. Looking around, she saw the once empty clearing was now full of other vehicles; there had to have been twenty Masters present.

Beside her stood a stallion wearing a Security equipment harness. "Excellent, you are awake. Come with me please, you need to be examined to see what was done to you." He waved her to one of the airtrucks. 

The blue mare nodded her thanks, got to her hooves and climbed into the back of the vehicle. At the entrance she paused, taking one last glance at the clearing; heavily armed gryphon troopers were just starting to land at the far end. I did do the right thing, didn't I?

The flash of pain in her head didn't quite erase her lingering doubts.

===

Salrath gagged at the taste of the stimulant spray; she'd already been up for the best part of two hundred kiloseconds -- two whole days -- when this particular problem had dropped into her lap. Opportunity, she thought, not problem. This one's name will be well known after this. She straightened her utility vest and ran her claws through the fur on her head, trying to look at least professional to the group she was about to address.

The little light over the camera flashed green and her screen came alive with a collection of head-and-shoulders video thumbnails, the outgoing feed visible as an inset square in the corner. On the rest of the screen was her boss -- Leader Turma, his boss -- Sector Chief Orgon, and everyone's boss -- Strategist Faungo. On the civilian side were Councillor Indutu and a sour faced Academician Vanca.

The Strategist was the first to speak. "The Agent has done excellent work. The conclusions appear obvious from her report, but perhaps she could summarise?"

Salrath nodded her thanks to the camera, unable to keep a smile from her muzzle. "Approximately ten kiloseconds ago, this one was routed a message from one of the servitors in Academician Vanca's group, designated Gravity Resonance TP5325." If anything, the scientist's face grew even more thunderous, but she said nothing. Salrath has got you now, the Agent thought. "It reported that its kin, Fusion Pulse TC4668, had broken its conditioning and had a method to break the conditioning in other servitors. It also said it had learned new thaumic techniques of great power."

The image of the Councillor leaned forward slightly. "Agent, how fast was the servitor able to break the conditioning of the other pony?"

So Indutu didn't read much of Salrath's report, Salrath thought, suppressing her mild irritation. "The servitor estimates it took less than a hundred seconds, but it could be as little as ten seconds."

"How long has it been in the corral? It is still there, isn't it? the Councillor said, suddenly looking worried.

"There are two hundred and seventeen servitors at that corral. Fusion Pulse has had at least half a day to work without interruption. Its communicator was destroyed within the last ten kiloseconds and we have no tracking data for that period. Its current location has been confirmed by a pair of Security servitors working off long range sensing spells."

The Strategist grunted and held up one paw to silence Salrath. "Does the Councillor accept the nature of the problem now? This must be stopped immediately; if left unchecked the servitor revolt will spread rapidly. Independent of what it would do to us, it would attract the attention of the World Court. Does Faungo need to remind Indutu of the existence of the Hammer? They would not hesitate to use it if they find out."

The Councillor seemed to wilt slightly under the Strategist's hard gaze. "Academician? What is the Institute's view?"

"Vanca's view is that an expert in servitor psychology should be called," she said, the annoyance obvious in her tone. "It seems highly unlikely that an experienced servitor would become hostile even if the conditioning was removed." The Academician waved one paw in a throw-away gesture. "Which makes them irrelevant. The real problem is the other things Fusion Pulse is capable of. If even half of what the Agent has told us is true, the People are in big trouble."

Salrath bristled at the implied accusation in Vanca's words. "This one assures the Academician that--"

"No one is doubting Salrath's findings," the Sector Chief said. "Vanca has the most experience with the servitor; what does she think the biggest risk is?"

"There is no real theory to explain how it happened, but it is clear that it has formed some connection with Celestia. Some researchers believe that our world is a created thing, and that there is some kind of intelligence or mechanism operating at the lowest levels of space-time that controls magic. The latest experiments have found hints of order in the fine structure of the universe, and--"

The Councillor looked pained. "Please stop. Vanca is starting to sound like a member of the priesthood. What is the Academician's point?"

Vanca sighed. "Fine. It may be able to directly control solar output," she said, keeping her voice flat and emotionless.

There was a moment of stunned silence, then all the comms channels erupted as every person tried to speak at once. Salrath leaned back in her chair and tried to hide a grin. Absolute garbage, she thought, like anything we do could affect the sun! 

The Councillor must have done something to his controls, because every channel went quiet, even though the people on them were obviously still talking. "That's enough. This one needs to brief the Synod in one kilosecond. Sector Chief, your opinion?"

"Baur Hive has already raised a complaint with the World Court. Kill it and any servitor it has come into contact with as soon as possible. If we use thaumic suppression it won't be able to do anything."

"Academician?"

"The creature has some of the powers attributed to the Creation Stones. Use the suppressors, but capture it alive for study. Do what you like with the rest."

"Strategist?"

"While the other two suggestions have a lot of merit, we should consider one other option. Negotiate."

"With a servitor? Is Faungo out of his mind!?" the Councillor said, unable to maintain his normally smooth expression.

"That is this one's opinion. If the worst case is true, then we will lose everything."

"If Indutu takes that to the Synod, they will have your head, and his. Make a different choice."

Faungo shrugged. "Then kill it quickly. If it is not protected, then a non thaumicly active precision weapon would be the best option. The strike would be hypersonic and the target would only have a tenth of a second warning." 

The Councillor nodded his thanks to everyone, then the screen went blank.

===

They chose capture, with precautions. 

As soon as the Synod had reached its decision, things started to move quickly. The clearing, already full of Security vehicles, became a staging area for the squadron of gryphon special forces that would be going in the instant the thaumic suppressor came online. Security had successfully beaten the Military for the honour of carrying out the assault, so for the last kilosecond, alpha units of Rippers -- the infamous Red Deaths -- had been flying in to receive their last second orders.

Security would not do everything, however. The regular military would be providing a pair of thaumic suppression vehicles, satellite overwatch and the 'precautions'. Salrath's role had shifted slightly; her experience did not cover this kind of large scale assault, so she was managing the covert surveillance operation. This was in the form of three Security servitors lying in a loose circle on the grass.

"Well?" she said impatiently to the nearest pony, nudging the slightly built cream stallion with the claws on one foot. He had his eyes closed and appeared to be muttering something under his breath, completely oblivious to her presence.

The pony twitched and the milky halo around his horn flickered slightly. He opened one eye to look at Salrath. "The subject is still within the bounds of the corral," he said distantly, mind obviously on his magic, "but only just. I am detecting significant magical events, but they do not match any known spell." 

Salrath thought about asking the other two the same question, but it seemed unlikely they would know any more. This trio were one of the top rated surveillance teams in the whole sector, and as little as she trusted servitors, their records were impressive. "Perhaps the pony would like to share its information?" she asked sarcastically.

The stallion winced, the breath woofing out of him. "Yes, Master," he croaked. 

That's right servitor, Salrath thought with a slight smile, don't ever forget what you are. To his left the horn of the second pony -- this one a bright orange mare with short cropped yellow mane and tail -- changed hue and brightened slightly. In the gap between the three a model of the corral and surroundings appeared. It was beautifully detailed, looking almost like a satellite image, except in full three dimensions. The Agent was convinced that if she got a magnifier, she'd be able to see the individual leaves on the trees. 

Amid the miniature buildings and small fields of the corral were little model ponies, some stationary, some moving about. All except one were marked by bright pinpoints of green light; the last servitor was all but invisible under the trees of the apple orchard. Salrath frowned at that. "Salrath needs to be able to identify the subject," she said.

At her words, a circle of trees around the lone pony became transparent, little blown glass sculptures tinted green and brown. The Agent smiled; she'd recognise that servitor anywhere. Lifting her comms bracer, she spoke softly into the pickup. "Subject has been located; this one is ready for linking to battlenet." She nodded to the final servitor, a grey mare, who stared fixedly at the model, the crystal studded collar she wore flickering in time to the pulsing of her horn. 

"Battlenet link stable," came the voice of an unknown technician at a distant command centre, "updating satellite feed."  

Salrath trotted back to one of the Security command vehicles and settled into an unoccupied chair. On the screen was an image of the corral, obviously taken from a satellite. The picture didn't have the resolution of the thaumic surveillance plot, but was good enough to locate all the servitors. Little markers started to populate the video, each a name and code number, each linked to a servitor. Now the computer knew which servitor was which, it would be able to track them even after the suppressor came online. 

Also on this screen were a number of red diamonds, slowly filtering in from the edges of the plot to surround the corral and all the ponies. These were the gryphon special forces teams; clad in their active camouflage, they had been creeping into position for the last kilosecond or so, and were now getting close enough that they risked discovery. 

Salrath waited impatiently for the operation to start; they couldn't hold much longer as servitors would soon start to come off shift, increasing the collateral damage significantly -- not to mention giving the rogue more potential converts. Even at this time of day, Security had been kept busy diverting in and out bound ponies. 

There had been a certain amount of controlled panic when the first servitor had left the corral. There was still a fear -- despite what the servitor psychology experts had had told them -- that the rogue had managed to suborn other ponies and was sending them out to spread the revolt. The pony had flown out and, when it was far enough from the corral that it could be intercepted if necessary, had been ordered to divert to an isolated spot. 

The creature had asked for confirmation of its orders, causing some tension among the crew of the anti-air weapon tasked to tracking it, but had landed without incident. There it had been collared and interrogated, before being quietly euthanized. The information it had revealed had caused great relief; as far as it knew, Fusion Pulse had kept itself isolated. Despite this, the attack plan remained unchanged.

"All units, prepare to attack," came the obviously mechanical voice of the battlenet systems. This was one standard throughout the Hive; on operations where timing was paramount, all orders were given by the computer. 

Salrath leaned forward, hunching over the control panel to get a better look at the screen. Here at the command post they were privy to the whole battle plan, but this was not true for the front line troops waiting in their camouflaged nests. Especially not this next order.

Far over the horizon was what ground troops uncharitably called a missile truck; so-called because the flight crew were little more than glorified drivers for the almost completely automated weapon system they flew around. The machine, a fat lens of a vehicle studded with a hexagonal array of vertical launch missile silos, flew a race-track course at just over tree-top height.

"Launching salvo in five seconds," said battlenet, and in the cockpit the pilot glanced at his weapon's officer, who leaned back against her harness and shrugged slightly. Without any intervention by the crew, a pair of slim darts burst from their cells and accelerated towards the horizon. They were gone in a flash, their thaumic boosters converting stored energy to momentum without any need for reaction mass. They worked in the same way as any normal aircar, only far, far faster.

Back at the clearing, Salrath fiddled with the video controls to try and get a better view of the rogue. Any second... now! she thought. At that instant, half her displays went dead as the thaumic suppression vehicles turned their special -- and extremely expensive -- crystal arrays towards the distant corral. At the same moment, everything magical in the target area would have ceased to function, rendering the ponies helpless. 

Outside the command vehicle there came a cry of pain from the three Security servitors and Salrath nodded. Always nice to have confirmation, she thought, her attention riveted on the satellite view. The little version of Fusion had moved, and had started back towards the corral, before turning again and galloping in the other direction. 

Does that mean that it really hasn't converted any of the other servitors, or just that it's trying to draw us away from the others? The Agent pondered this; whatever she thought of the creature, it obviously had great reserves of willpower, and after it had fooled her in the Institute she wouldn't put anything past it. We'll find out soon enough, she thought.

The white pony-model was running quickly now, only occasionally visible as it zigzagged through the trees. It might have been an attempt to evade the surveillance, but this was futile; although Salrath's view was in visible light, the computer had married that with infra-red for tracking through the canopy. There was nothing it could do to escape.

They had been ready for this eventuality; Ripper teams had been placed at the most likely points, and even now they were repositioning themselves to block the servitor's flight. Everyone always thought of gryphons as aerial hunters, but at least half their genome came from big cats, and they retained that species' abilities as ambush predators. 

For a moment, Salrath thought the troopers had left it too late, but even as she reached for her comms unit, a quartet of lean brown shapes exploded into motion. They seemed to cover the twenty or so lengths to the galloping servitor in a heartbeat, converging on the white shape. There was a flicker of motion, one white wing flared out at the nearest gryphon, then a second soldier reached out and touched the pony's hindquarters.

The contact appeared only glancing, almost accidental, but the rogue tripped and tumbled, legs and wings going in all directions. All four gryphons converged on the downed pony in a spray of dust and feathers; the last thing Salrath saw of the servitor was its pink tail, spread out on the leaf litter between the brown bodies. She leaned back with a smile, feeling the sudden release of a tension she didn't realise she'd been under. 

Off in the distance was a rumble of thunder, the sound of the Military's 'precautions' self destructing.

===

For an instant there was a feeling like someone had shut her in a glass box. 

"No!" Fusion cried, instinctively reaching for her magic, but there was only the faintest spark there. She pushed, straining her mind to find some way past the barrier. Nothing worked, and she was distracted from her efforts by the sound of screaming. Her head whipped up, tracking the noise, then she looked on in horror as a green pony with white mane and tail plummeted out of the sky, wings thrashing uselessly. There was a nasty, final thud and a sudden silence, like the world was holding its breath. 

More cries and yells from the distant corral, but Fusion didn't spare the time to listen. All her aches and pains from being thrown through the trees faded, and she kicked up clods of soil as she galloped in the opposite direction. The sudden lack of magic, that pony falling out of the sky, it could mean only one thing: Gravity had sided with the Masters. As she ran, she tried not to think of the white maned pony, tried not to connect that falling shape with Spiral Fracture, the medic who'd treated her only this morning. Nothing mattered other than getting out from under the effect of this suppression field.

So preoccupied was she with avoiding the various obstacles that could trip a running pony, that she didn't notice the danger until it was too late. The first one approached on her blind side, only detected over the thunder of her own hooves by the hissing of dry leaves. Some distant part of her brain knew those sounds, knew what to do even as her conscious mind still struggled to get to grips with this rapidly unfolding disaster.

She jinked sideways and put on an extra burst of speed, managing to avoid the first whatever-it-was. She actually saw the second attacker, a brown feathered blur exploding from cover no more than a dozen lengths in front of her. Precious instants were wasted straining for magic that wasn't there, then all she could do was lash out with one useless wing -- a ploy that the gryphon avoided easily -- and try to dodge again.

Something hooked around one of her back hooves, a bruising impact that knocked her sideways and tangled her legs together. Fusion tripped and, with that slow motion inevitability, tumbled to the ground. Sky and ground changed places with dizzying speed, and the leaf litter that had been so soft to lie on came up to hit her with stunning force.

Fusion landed heavily on her left side, one wing taking most of the impact. Something snapped inside her shoulder, but there was no pain, the shock was too great. Stunned for an instant, she had no time to react when the four gryphons in form fitting body armour jumped on her. Their movements were practiced, showing all the hallmarks of long experience. 

The first gripped her horn with one foreclaw, while wrapping the long scaly talons of his other around her throat with enough force to stop her breathing. Two others held her at withers and hips, making sure to keep a good grip on her wings, as well as legs. Even with her magic neutralized they were taking no chances, and she could feel the cruel talon tips digging into her flesh. It was like being restrained by creatures with fistfuls of knives.

All Fusion could see was a sky made of armour scales and short brown feathers from the creature that crouched over her head. It moved, and another set of talons closed over her muzzle, gripping with bone crushing force. She could just see their owner, as she clipped something cold about Fusion's throat and slid a familiar ring over her horn.

Recognition kick-started her mind, and with thought came panic and the long delayed pain. She thrashed and tried to scream past the claws holding her throat and muzzle shut, but her movements produced a spike of agony so intense that she dropped into blessed oblivion. 

===

"Is it awake?"

A stinging sensation at her throat washed away the comfortable darkness. Fusion opened her eyes, wondering for a moment why she could only see out of the right one. Then her predicament hit home and she whinnied quietly. She was in the middle of what appeared to be an armed camp, surrounded by Security vehicles and personnel. 

Next to her stood Mach Front, with a grinning Salrath standing behind him. The Security pony held an injector gun in a field of pale magic and was looking at her with an odd mixture of curiosity and anger. She twisted her head slightly, rolling her eyes upwards when the movement didn't feel quite right, like a weight she'd been carrying all her life had suddenly vanished.

It took her a moment to discover what was missing. Where there should have been a smooth, spiral ridged spike was nothing more than a stump, the end chipped and splintered where it had been crudely hacked off with some sort of power tool. Panic flooded through her, and she gasped. My horn! They've cut off my horn! she thought. What am I going to do now? Even if I can break free, there's nothing I can do for anypony.

There's nothing more I can do.

The last thought should have brought more panic, but instead her breathing slowed back to its resting rate, her wild emotions replaced with a fatalistic calm. She reached for her magic, hunting for the familiar feeling of smooth power, but there was almost nothing. The delicate touch of the sun was still there, a distant candle flame slowly moving across the heavens, but she had nothing to reach out to it with. There were some vague hints and odd feelings, but it was like trying to lift a mountain with a spider's web. 

"What have you done with my sister?" she said to Salrath in an even tone, and had a slight feeling of satisfaction when the Agent's expression changed from sadistic glee to one of annoyance. 

"How dare you speak to--" Mach said, outrage clear in his voice, then snapped his mouth shut after Salrath glanced sideways at him. "Sorry, Master," he whispered, cringing slightly.

Salrath snorted in disgust, the noise causing the pony to wince, just like he'd been poked with something sharp. She turned back to Fusion, her smile slowing returning. "They say the worst thing is not knowing," she said, reaching into a near-by bag and pulling out a wide metal collar. "Get up, servitor."

Fusion lurched to her hooves, gritting her teeth against the sudden stab of pain from her left wing. She'd received some treatment at least -- the injured wing had been crudely strapped to her midsection -- and she was in nowhere near as much pain as she should have been in. The nameless medic had left her other wing free to move and at least help with balance. She stayed perfectly still while Mach Front locked the collar about her throat, ignoring the stallion and Salrath to stare fixedly at the horizon.

Salrath brought out a small instrument, holding it negligently in one paw. "Just in case the pony should consider running," she said, holding up the device so Fusion could see it. Her thumb came down on the button at the top of the slim cylinder.

Pain roared up through the mare and all her muscles locked solid; if it wasn't for the fact that her legs were slightly splayed, she'd have fallen over again. The agony stopped and Fusion let her head droop between her knees, gasping for breath and moaning quietly. Working her jaw she spat something red-tinged onto the grass. "I'm not going anywhere," she said, voice slightly distorted from where she'd bitten her tongue.

She could see the temptation in Salrath's eyes; it was obvious that the Agent wanted to press the button again. She tried to keep her face blank, but her gaze was drawn to the control unit and she felt her ears flatten when that clawed thumb twitched. The Agent stared back at her, then reluctantly hooked the device to her utility vest. She pointed to an air truck -- marked, unlike the others, with the Eugenics Board's logo -- a little away from the rest. "That way, it is time for the pony's brief study session," she said, then turned to Mach. "The pony is dismissed."

Mach opened his mouth to protest, then closed it with a wince. "Yes, Master," he said, looking worried.

Salrath had already turned back to Fusion, prodding the mare with the button end of the control unit. She jumped into motion, not wanting to experience that terrible pain for even a second. The Agent walked a few paces away on her right side. "The pony knows that what it has done has condemned its kin?" she said, eyes studying Fusion's face for any sign of a reaction.

You don't lose any opportunity, do you? Fusion thought. "Die now or die later; everypony dies at your paws eventually," she said, allowing a hint of anger to colour her words.

Salrath grinned at that. "It is refreshing to finally speak to a servitor without all the cringing. Tell Salrath; what is it like to know that the pony's whole species has been so perfectly enslaved... and will continue to be so for all time?"

"I know something you don't, Agent. There's something out there that hates you and all your kind, and you don't even know it exists," Fusion said. "It will kill you all, if it can."

The Agent laughed. "The pony will need to do better than that to save itself."

"Where do you think all my power comes from? Not from me. I was given it," Fusion said, watching as Salrath's expression faded from happy to thoughtful. Got you with that one, didn't I, she thought. How hungry are you for power and recognition?

"The pony will tell Salrath. Now." The Agent held up the control unit, thumb resting on the button.

"I will not--" Fusion suddenly shrieked as she felt herself catch fire, every nerve fibre crisping in an appalling heat. Her other senses reported similar overloads; foul smells and tastes, blinding lights and a terrible atonal screaming that drowned out even the sound of her own cries. Everything went away and the mare found herself on the ground, fighting the urge to throw up from the memory of the taste in her mouth.

Gasping for breath, she rolled back to her stomach and stared up at the Agent. "Do that as much as you like, you'll get nothing but screams out of me. I have been blessed with pain in the past." Her voice was scratchy and weak, but didn't tremble. "You must recognise this, after what you did to me in the control room." 

Several expressions fought for control of Salrath's face; the first was fury, the Agent's lips drawing back from long canine teeth in a silent snarl, then interest. Fusion suppressed a shiver at that -- she could almost read Salrath's thoughts, see that she was wondering if watching the mare writhe would be more satisfying than learning some strange secret. Please don't let her take that as a challenge, she thought, tensing inside at the thought of more pain. Salrath nodded slowly and Fusion relaxed slightly.

"The pony's strength of will is unusual, but Salrath is sure that some of Security's more involved methods will get results."

"I'm certain you are correct," Fusion said, amazed at how calm her voice sounded during what amounted to a casual discussion of her eventual torture. There must be variants of the spell Random taught me that don't rely on the subject being cooperative, she thought. "But that would take it out of Salrath's hoov-- paws, wouldn't it?"

The Agent's face grew crafty. "What does the pony want?"

"Let me talk to my sister for a while, a few hundred seconds, no more. Nobody present except yourself."

"Acceptable," Salrath said, "but this better be good." The Agent pointed toward another airtruck, this one marked with the Institute's colours.

Fusion walked slowly in that direction, limping slightly as each step jarred her broken wing. Salrath was silent by her side, but kept giving the mare little sidelong glances. Probably wondering how I'm going to react when I see Gravity, she thought sourly. At least this means she's still alive.

Rounding the side of the truck, she waited patiently until Salrath flung open the rear cargo doors, acting for all the world like a magician revealing something surprising from a box. Inside, huddled against the far wall and blinking in the sudden light, was Gravity. Fusion studied her sister carefully, she seemed to be physically alright, but had wet marks down the sides of her muzzle. She was wearing one of the suppression collars, the jewelled ring about her horn glittering slightly as her head moved.

"Yes? Is there anything you need me to do?"

"Hello, Gravity, it's me," Fusion said, realising that the other mare would not be able to see any more than a silhouette against the light.

"F-Fusion?" Gravity scrabbled to her hooves and rushed forward, the look of misery on her face changing to shame for an instant before she skidded to a halt at the lip of the cargo compartment. "What happened, the Master said she would help you--" She gasped at seeing Salrath, cringing at the Agent's shark-like grin. "S-sorry, Master, I didn't mean--"

"It doesn't matter, does it, Agent?" Fusion said, turning her head to stare pointedly at Salrath.

The Master stared back, eyes narrowing, then her smile widened slightly. "Of course not. The pony may leave the truck if it wishes," she said in a silky voice. 

Gravity looked between Fusion and Salrath, confused by the undertone of the exchange, then stepped carefully to the ground. Seeing her obvious hesitation, Fusion stepped close and rested her head against the dark blue fur on her sister's neck, bringing her working wing forward to embrace the trembling mare. "It's okay," she said, "you did what you had to do. You probably saved everypony a lot of suffering." Tears started to prick at her own eyes.

Gravity backed out of the hug, searching for any sign that her sister was saying this just for her benefit. She hung her head. "You're sure? I didn't know what else to do."

"I had big plans, but I see now that it wouldn't have worked. There was never any way out of this for us. I'm just so sorry I got you involved."

The blue mare, crying openly now, rushed forward and reared up to wrap her forelegs about Fusion's neck. "Everything will be okay, I'm sure of it. Just put your trust in the Masters."

"I do," Fusion said, successfully keeping the bitterness out of her voice.

Salrath cleared her throat, causing both ponies to glance in her direction. She pointedly waggled the control unit at Fusion. The mare sighed and gently shook off her sister. "I've got to go now. Remember; whatever happens, it's not your fault. You had no choice."

Gravity sniffed and nodded dumbly, stepping back, but not climbing into the truck.

"Does Salrath get a hug too?" the Agent said sarcastically.

"You'll get what you need, I'm sure," Fusion said, walking towards the Agent.

"This one had better, otherwise Salrath will be visiting your kin later. The pony will remain still," she said, directing this last order to Gravity, who'd taken a hesitant step forward.

The mare was getting better at reading the Agent's body language. You'll do that no matter what I tell you, won't you? she thought, something hardening inside her. There's only one thing left for me to do. She took a few paces to one side, gesturing for Salrath to follow.

"Do you believe in the Maker, Agent?" Fusion said in a low voice,

Salrath snorted. "Not hardly."

"I did, but that was because it hurt to not believe. When I lost my Blessing I assumed the Maker was just a way to keep us happy with the promise of a reward later--"

"The same has been said among the People about the Maker. Get to the point."

Fusion lowered her voice still further, forcing Salrath to step towards her. "When I was in the accelerator I nearly died, my magic just wasn't strong enough. I was desperate and I reached out to something I'd felt before under similar circumstances... and it answered, showing me new magic. But that's not all, it actually manipulated me, made me do all that damage." She could see by the look on Salrath's face that the Agent didn't believe a word of it, but that didn't matter.

Because she was now close enough.

Fusion's right wing, while battered and missing feathers from her encounter with the gryphon snatch team, still functioned. She flicked it out, driving it at the Agent's head with the full force of the big muscles that encircled her belly. Had it struck home, the bony lump at the end that was the equivalent of a wrist joint would have hit with stunning force, cracking open Salrath's skull like an egg. Unfortunately the Agent's reactions were lightening fast.

Salrath threw up one arm to ward off the blow, reflexively ducking her head below the murderous sweep of white feathers. There was the nasty crack of breaking bone and the collar control unit went flying from her suddenly nerveless fingers. Snarling, the Agent stumbled back, reaching for her firearm with her good paw, only to be knocked off her feet when Fusion jumped forward and shoulder barged her.

"Stop! What are you doing!?" 

Fusion heard Gravity's high, panicked shout, but paid it no heed. I can do one last thing for you, sister, she thought, knowing her remaining life was now measured in seconds. There was a loud bang and something whickered past her head far too fast to see. More gunshots, and the painful noises of bullets striking the metal of the airtruck's hull. The sound of something soft being hit, like when a heavy weight was dropped on grass. Fusion threw up her wing, angling it to obscure the view of her head from the other Security staff, while rearing up over the prone Agent. In the same fluid motion she brought her whole weight crashing down onto her front hooves.

Salrath, seeing the mare's hooves leave the ground, gave up trying to draw her pistol and rolled desperately to one side. Disorientated from the fall -- and not quite believing what was happening -- she didn't make it, one hoof catching her on the pelvis. There was an awful breaking sound as bone shattered. The Agent gasped, a startled in drawing of breath that seemed to contain a whole universe of shock and pain, then swiped the claws of her good paw across Fusion's belly. She did little more than scratch the skin, and Fusion crouched and reared again, the pressure of her hoof grinding downwards and causing Salrath to open her jaws wide in a silent scream.

More gunfire and the sound of running paws. At the top of her arc, something struck Fusion high on her back with the force of a hammer, the impact making her grunt. Pain flared, but was ignored, and she brought her hooves back down onto the weakly moving Agent. 

This time her aim was perfect.

Fusion caught sight of an instant of terrible realisation in Salrath's eyes, then both of her hooves struck the Agent squarely in the centre of her chest. She had armour; layers of polymer and ceramic able to soak up a kick or punch, stop or deflect a bullet or laser pulse, but nothing in its design would slow half a tonne of pony hell-bent on killing the wearer. Trapped against the ground, the armour buckled and Salrath's ribs snapped. The air woofed out of her lungs and she coughed, spraying bloody foam over Fusion's chest.

The mare tried to rear again, but there were more hammer blows that stitched an uneven line along her back, and all of a sudden her legs failed to work. Collapsing, she landed heavily on Salrath's head and shoulders. Darkness started to congeal around the edges of her vision, the rest of which was suddenly obscured by a pale haze as something grabbed her roughly and lifted her into the air. Her flight was short, and she tumbled to the grass a few lengths from the twitching shape of the Agent.

Something hard and scaly grabbed her around the throat, making her breath whistle slightly. She ignored the hissing gryphon that stood over her, keeping her eye on the medic that had knelt next to Salrath. The look on the Master's face was enough.

"Gottcha," she whispered, as the cold started to fill her chest. With one final effort she rolled her eye to look at Gravity, and a great sadness filled her. Unnoticed by everyone, the blue mare had fallen motionless to the grass, a single bright red mark, like an errant flower, just behind her right eye.

I'm so sorry, she thought, her vision finally fading out as the darkness rolled her over and took her away.

Ninety four point one seconds later, the time it took a photon to travel to Celestia and back, the sun went out.

===


Epilogue I - t+9.94x10^-7 seconds


Chaos felt the information as it rippled past, somewhere inside the orbit of the debris ring. For a moment, no longer than the time it took for the wavefront to travel a dozen lengths, it was delighted -- here was the solution to all of its problems, a way to greatly reduce the biped's numbers without personal risk. Then the ramifications of the event hit home; no Flaw meant a vastly reduced power input to the bubble, meaning its own activities would be greatly curtailed. It would be trapped for all eternity inside this pocket universe, waiting only for the eventual decay of all barionic matter and the final entropic silence of the heat death. It sped after the information as it was passed between the automata towards the flaw, but as Chaos was limited by the same information transfer rates as any other entity on the substrate, all it could do was maintain its trailing position.

Nothing travels faster than the speed of light, so the time at which the information reached the esoteric machinery operating the Flaw passed without incident. As it entered the high energy environment, Chaos started to relax. Everything was as it should be, only the normal small scale fluctuations in the exotic particles coming through from the other side of the event horizon. Chaos cast around for where the information had gone; it had been so certain that...

At that instant it realised its mistake. Fooled by the placid environment, it had mistaken inactivity for waiting, the delays of machinery getting into synchronisation for one concerted action. All around it space was changing, the Flaw machinery acting to smooth out the opening in the event horizon. Panicking, Chaos reached out to interfere with the process, but the machines were too big and spread across too much space; the very speed of light was acting against it. By the time it had conceived a course of action and put it into play, the machines had already changed to something different and immune to that effort.

It tried again and again, pouring so much effort into its actions that it failed to notice the ever present Guardian automata closing in on it from all angles. It was still trying when the first Guardian ripped through it, reducing its mind to a disconnected shoal of anomalous processes. The Guardians that followed quickly erased every remaining trace. 


Epilogue II - t+2.12x10^9 seconds


The image on the screen was a low quality still from a video camera some independent reporter had managed to sneak on to one of the 'harvesting' crews. Harsh lighting and a snow-white landscape played havoc with the camera's exposure control. Unfortunately, what it did show was perfectly clear. Shapes, distorted by frost and ice, being loaded into the back of a tracked crawler. Shapes with six limbs, and shapes with only four.

Shapes that would have been bipedal.

Korn eyed the bowl of processed kibble that had made up his -- and every other Person still in the Hive's deep tunnels -- diet for the last two gigaseconds. Logic told him that protein was protein, and with all the problems they had it wasn't a good idea to be squeamish about where that protein had come from. He pushed the bowl away, suddenly not feeling very hungry anymore. On the screen, the news report continued.

"Food riots in refuge nine have entered their second megasecond, despite Security carrying out its threat to cut off power to the area. We have no independent confirmation of conditions within the refuge, as the shield doors have been closed and no private communication is being permitted. Despite the blackout, there are persistent rumours of Security forces committing atrocities--"

"Academician Korn? The servitor is here for you."

Korn blanked the wall screen and closed his eyes in resignation. Korn can't fix the food shortages, but at least he has some control over his own projects. If Guliar does that one more time... he thought. "Thank you," he said, pulling himself slowly out of the chair with the aid of the grab rail on the wall. "Korn hates being old," he muttered, picking up his cane from the side of the desk.

"What was that, Academician?" said Guliar.

"Nothing, nothing," Korn replied, turning and hobbling to the outer room of his suite of offices. Rounding the corner, he gave a genuine smile, falling heavily to one knee to meet the small form bouncing towards him. Korn will pay for that later, but it's worth it, he thought, opening his arms to catch the white filly, still young enough to have more than her fair share of leg.

He wrapped his arms around her neck, wrinkling his muzzle in a futile attempt to dislodge an errant strand of pink mane that threatened to make him sneeze. "And how have you been, my little pony? Have they been treating you well?" he said, staring pointedly at the Security staffer standing in the doorway. A hulking individual, more suited to the front line of a riot squad than his current 'minder' role. That one certainly has no acting ability, he thought, watching the Agent run the links of the collar, just removed from the filly, through his fingers. The expression of disgust was obvious.

Korn closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, breathing in the fresh summer scent of the white filly, trying to recall anything from back when it was possible to go outside without the aid of a pressure suit. The pony wriggled and he let her go, only to have her lean forward again and nuzzle his neck.

"I'm learning lots of new magic, it's great fun, and everyone is very nice to me," she said, but her mouth turned downwards into a frown, "except Guliar, he's too rough and I'm sure he doesn't like me." She turned her head slightly and stuck her tongue out at the Security Agent, whose lips curled back in a silent snarl. At the sight, her ears flattened and she shuffled a little closer to Korn.

Korn placed his paws on either side of the filly's neck. "Is he now? We'll just have to see about that. You go and wait outside, Korn needs to have a quick talk with Guliar -- and no listening at the door!" He gave her a gentle shove to get her moving, watching fondly as she trotted happily to the door, her stubby horn glowing as she pulled the door shut. She is growing up fast, he thought, maybe this one will be the one...

He climbed back to his feet, wincing at the pain in his knees.

"You fool!" he hissed at the startled Agent, raising the cane to prod him sharply in the chest, "Do you know how long it took Korn to convince the Synod to carry out this experiment?"

"That servitor does not have the right attitude--"

"You were ordered to treat that pony like it was your own cub. What part of that was not clear to you?" Korn said acidly, punctuating his words with sharp jabs to the Agent's chest.

"The Academician is even starting to talk like one of them," Guliar said with a sneer.

Where does Security find these idiots? Korn thought. His voice turned cold. "You are dismissed. Return to your station and get them to send someone else. Korn does not want to see you again."

"Korn can't--" the Agent said hotly.

"Yes Korn can, he has complete control over this project. Get out."

The Agent snarled something indistinct, then stomped from the office, slamming the door open as he went. There was a high pitched cry of pain, followed by a yelp of surprise. A pale yellow radiance, the half remembered colour of the noon-day sun, filled the doorway. Korn groaned and hobbled into the corridor outside his office.

There will be hell to pay for this, he thought, as he rounded the corner and saw what he'd been afraid of. Held a little way off the ground in a haze of yellow-white magic was the Agent, unmoving in the telekinetic gip of the little filly. Guliar was unexpectedly silent, which surprised Korn until he saw that the Agent's chest wasn't moving. He was still alive -- little twitches and tremors ran through his frame as his muscles strained. His eyes darted to stare at Korn, pleading with him to do something.

"He kicked me!" the filly said in an outraged tone.

"Did he now?" Korn said thoughtfully. "Could you lower him down a little? Thank you." He stepped forward, placing his muzzle next to the stricken Agent's ear. "The World Court thinks this project is the last hope for the long term survival of our species. With all the billions we've already lost to the cold and dark, do you really think your death will even be noticed?" he whispered.

The Agent's eyes grew increasingly frantic.

Korn nodded slightly. "The first and only thing out of your mouth had better be an apology," he said, turning his back on Guliar and limping to stand next to the white filly. Placing one paw on her head he ran his blunt claws through her mane. "You might want to relax your grip a little, my dear. I think he wants to tell us something."

The golden glow lessened slightly and the Agent inhaled a great lungful of air. "This one is very sorry," he babbled between gasps, "Guliar will never do that again. Please let this one down." The last words seemed to cause him almost physical pain. The filly looked uncertainly at Korn.

"Put him in my office to think about what he did," the Academician said, locking the door after the Agent had been unceremoniously dumped onto one of the chairs. He gently nudged the pony in the direction of the outside viewing chamber. "So, tell me what sorts of magic you've been learning," he said, as he walked with her.

All unpleasantness forgotten, the filly chatted happily about how much she could now lift, the distance from which she could manipulate a magnetic field, and her new trick, the creation of free-floating balls of plasma. This she promptly did, and the eye-searing point of blue-white light that materialised a few body lengths away was hot enough to make him flinch even at this distance. She was instantly contrite at his distress, and her creation vanished with a sharp crack.

By this time they'd reached the viewing platform, and Korn activated the controls to open the shutters and dim the internal lights. The armoured wall pulled back, showing a stark landscape, all low, rounded hills, any features blurred and smoothed by the thick layer of oxy-nitrogen snow. It glowed a faint, pale green, apparently lit from within.

"Is it up?" the filly asked.

"It is," Korn said, "you see the glow? That's fluorescence from the radiation Korn told you about. That's what's coming down from where the sun was."

"I can't feel it. Should I be able to feel it yet?"

"You are still young, give it time."

The filly looked up at Korn with adoring eyes, the light of purpose igniting behind them. "I will. I will restart the sun and save you all," the filly said.

"Korn knows you will, Celestia, he knows you will."

===


This chapter would not have been possible without the assistance and urging of Loaf Lirpa.

If you can't take a joke, you shouldn't have joined. 
-Anon.



~~~
Under the terms of the 2nd April 2013 Jocular Armistice, this chapter has been decommissioned. The text will be left up as an example of what would happen if the characters made certain choices, and to show exactly how fragile their position is. It is not the end, merely an end.
It is fully compatible with the rest of the story up to this point.
~~~



> 20 - Knife Edge
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist


=== Chapter 20 (remastered): Knife Edge ===


Chaos flitted through the subterranean polities that wormed through the skin of the world. With its failure to get the servitor to react in the desired manner, it had decided to return to its normal methods of little tweaks and manipulations of individual bipeds.

Everything seemed to be in place; the latest efforts at greater economic cooperation between Baur and Saro Hives had stalled again after Chaos had influenced intelligence analysts on both sides towards distrust of each other's motivations. This, combined with the multi gigasecond history of bad blood each Hive harboured for the other, had pushed both chief negotiators into more hard-line attitudes. Chaos suspected that it would be many rotations of the world before it would have to act again.

Despite its relativistic thought processes and near instantaneous methods of movement, Chaos didn't have complete knowledge of the workings of each Hive. Spending too much time in these cluttered environments risked Guardian involvement, so it was highly selective, remaining close to the seat of political power. This time, however, it chanced upon a meeting between a scientist and one of the Baur decision makers it kept tabs on.

In as of itself, this was not unusual. The odd thing was the sudden sense of familiarity it felt while flitting through the scientist's mind. The automata were operating on it in the same manner as they did on the servitors; a constant, low level modification of its brain function. Chaos stopped for a closer look; there seemed to be a small crystal lodged within the braincase, tied to a chunk of solid state circuitry. It reached out to examine the design of the crystal in detail, rifling through the scientist's memories as it did so.

This new development was unsettling. The crystal interfered with the biped in exactly the same way as it had observed for the servitors. It worked to constrain the biped's thought processes, to force it into certain attitudes or suffer the activation of specific brain areas connected with disagreeable physical sensations. A side effect was to render Chaos' manipulations unworkable; just like with the servitors, any attempt to modify the biped's thoughts would probably result in terminal disorder within the organic network supporting the mind.

Was this aimed at it? Chaos was suspicious; had the bipeds developed this tool to prevent its control of them? Did they know about it? Realistically, there was little they could do to endanger it that didn't involve all six Creation Stones -- but if this was combined with their automata suppression techniques, there was a chance they could render it helpless against a wandering Guardian.

Chaos relaxed as it realised the flaw in this line of reasoning -- if they truly wanted to protect themselves from it, their policy makers would have been the first to receive this modification, and this wasn't so. Curiosity roused once more, Chaos unfolded the copied memories within itself, moving away from the Guardian infested world so it would not be interrupted while trying to discover the reason behind this action. 

No sooner had it started, then there was turmoil within the high orbital spaces. Something had the automata stirred up, and they were reordering themselves to focus on orders coming from a distant spot on the planetary surface. Abandoning its half completed examination, Chaos moved to investigate the area, and for the first time in its existence it was stunned almost to thoughtlessness. The servitor that it had tried to manipulate still hadn't been driven to take its revenge on those controlling it, but it had done something extraordinary.

It had managed to remove the automata's influence, and teach Chaos' own techniques, to another of its kind. 

The opportunity here was tremendous -- a single pony couldn't hope to do everything Chaos wanted from this high risk project; but to have a pair of such creatures under its influence... It watched, fascinated, as the automata swirled around the pony, even executing Chaos' frivolous orders to alter the appearance of its mane and tail, although with a twist that seemed related to the new pony's particular skill set. It even started to taste the same, that haunting similarity with the Creation Stones -- although that realisation caused Chaos a moment of worry. Always with the Stones were the Guardians.

There was something else, something it hadn't noticed with the first one, but became painfully obvious when it watched the pair together. Both were connected at a deep level with the automata influencing the higher order systems within the bubble -- the Flaw and gravitational constant manipulation. These were key mechanisms within the universe, and Chaos wondered for a moment if had created a new set of problems for itself.

Its concerns about the Guardians proved well founded; all too soon Chaos was forced to move away from the ever increasing density of the aggressive automata. Unwilling to risk another close encounter, it retreated, returning only fleetingly to check on its project.

===

Fusion awoke with a gasp. For a moment she lay there, staring up at the ragged hole in the canopy, and wondered what she was doing here. Confused, she rotated her hips to roll onto her belly, hissing as her back complained and a multitude of aches and minor injuries made themselves known. Then everything came flooding back and she moaned in distress, all the physical pain fading to insignificance.

Climbing gingerly to her hooves, she took one look at the broken branches and leapt upwards. The pain made a quick comeback, jagged spikes in her back, neck and belly that stabbed her with every movement. Gritting her teeth, she cleared the tree-tops, casting around for any sign of her sister. There was nothing there, not a hint of blue, even with her shadow sight. The pain became unbearable and Fusion glided in to a landing, collapsing in an undignified heap when one of her forelegs gave way.

"I should have realised she'd react like that," she said to the empty trees. "What am I going to do now?"

The mare stretched each wing and leg carefully, trying to ease the stiffening muscles. It's all over, Fusion thought, glancing up at the darkening sky and wondering how long before it was filled with black airtrucks. She'll report me, she has to. She tried to plan, tried to think of something she could do to recover from this debacle. Her mind was blank, thoughts galloping off in a hundred different directions at once. What will they do? she wondered. The quickest answer would be to order everypony in the corral to restrain her, but it was still relatively early and there were very few ponies here.

They'd have to fly ponies in, she decided, or blanket the area with one of their thaumic suppressors and send in normal troops. She shivered, feeling sick. Would they even wait? Why not just target her directly with some precision weapon? Gravity would certainly pay a heavy price for doing the 'right thing'; subjected to another Blessing or simply shot out of paw when they decided they couldn't take any chances.

"I should have just followed her," Fusion whispered, "why did I try and grab her?" In the desperation and panic that followed Gravity's rejection of her plan, the mare had thought that if she could just get her sister to stop and listen for a few moments... Could I really have stopped her if I wanted to? she thought. She knows almost everything I know. At that close range the fight would have been nasty and probably ended up killing them both, as a spell could easily carry on operating even after its caster was incapacitated.

The mare realised that she'd been lucky, very lucky. If Gravity hadn't been so upset she might have had the presence of mind to focus her telekinesis, rather than use a crude, wide shove that had all the sophistication of a foal. With all of her sister's skill and newfound power behind it, such a strike could have smashed ribs or broken her back.

Fusion looked down at her communicator and knocked it off her fur with a quick flash of magic. She had no idea what the thing was capable of, apart from being a conduit for work orders. This was the main reason she'd used the sharing as a method to show Gravity her memories, rather than just use an illusion. It took magic to use the little bronze disk -- to actually send messages -- but she was certain it couldn't read her thoughts. Otherwise they'd have caught me days ago.

A nasty thought struck Fusion. There was no guarantee that it couldn't act as a camera or microphone, though; even if Gravity somehow decided not to turn her in, if the mare talked to herself...

She wrapped the disk in a cocoon of magic, watching it through her shadow sight. The little gem flickered and flashed as the device examined the thaumic signature of the field holding it, trying to decide if it was from the right pony. It had probably already sent a signal to somewhere, Fusion realised; removing it wasn't actually forbidden, but there was an expectation that you'd put it back on as fast as possible.

Floating her communicator up to eye level, she examined it closely. I have to know, she thought, manifesting a small force field disk through the plane of the device. The gem went dark and there was the acrid smell of a battery shorting out. Fusion lifted off the upper half of the disk and examined the interior.

The force field cut had left a perfectly smooth surface; if it wasn't for the little wisp of smoke spiralling up from the broken superconducting battery, it would have seemed possible to get it working again just by putting the halves back together. Fusion poked around with her magic, carefully pulling out components until she'd completely emptied the casing. Arranged in the air in front of her, she identified them one by one.

"Superconductor, that's the antenna, so that must be the transmitter, once magical gem--" Another chunk of solid state circuitry, this one attached to the bottom of the little gemstone, rotated as she inspected it. "--neural net simulator to actually activate the gem... and that's it." Fusion breathed a sign of relief. No camera, no microphone, and only one gem. As far as the mare knew, the Master's crystal thaumic technology was single function; one gem, one magical ability. That gem was a telepathic transmitter, so could not operate as, for example, a remote clairvoyance anchor. 

"Safe," she said, "for now."

Stacking the components back in the shell as best she could, Fusion repeated what she'd done to the Institute's accelerator, although at a much smaller scale. The pulse of power would undoubtedly be detectable, but she'd planned to explain away her communicator's destruction like that anyway. "Will they believe me when I tell them I took it apart to see what was wrong with it?" she muttered to herself, then shrugged. Against the other risks she'd taken today, this one barely registered.

Fusion spot welded the case back together, hooking the disk back on to the fur at the base of her throat. Staring down at the thing for a long second, she lifted her head and limped away from the corral, determined to get as far from the other ponies as possible.

===

Gravity kept climbing, wings pounding the air while her flight magic damped down her mass to a level that would be unreachable by even the best weather team flyer. She shot upwards through the clear air, trying to escape from the madness below her. Mind in turmoil, she ignored everything until the demands of her body penetrated her confused state.

The air up here was thin, thin enough that, no matter how hard her lungs worked, the mare couldn't seem to catch her breath. Exhausted by a combination of stress, exertion and oxygen deprivation, Gravity stilled her headlong flight, coasting to the peak of her trajectory on half folded wings. She'd never before been this high, and the view was startlingly beautiful. Only the most vague outline of the ground below could be seen, a picture of lakes, mountains and forest, blurred by the sheer mass of atmosphere in the way. The sky above was a deep blue, far deeper than at ground level, and the curvature of the horizon was clearly visible.

Celestia hung in the sky, half way down from the zenith, a blazing disk made harsh by the clear air. Gravity turned away from it, staring instead at the half illuminated shape of the largest moon, Luna. In the dark sky it shone a delicate silver, ready to cast its gentle light when the sun finally set. The blue mare kept her eyes on it as she reached the top of her arc and started to fall, the shape seeing to swim as tears welled up in her eyes. 

The distorted world was replaced by the stark memory of her sister's face, mouth stretched into an 'O' of surprise as the pulse of kinetic magic struck her, white body tumbling as she crashed through the branches and out of sight. Gravity felt a pang of doubt. How hard did I hit her, did I hurt-- The thought cut off, replaced by a flash of hate at what Fusion had done to her, changing just as rapidly to despair at the empty feeling inside her own head.

What am I going to do? she thought. She knew what she should do, of course, what she should have done the instant she'd realised that Fusion had betrayed the Maker and the Masters. She turned her thoughts inwards, horn glowing slightly as she activated her communicator. The machine bleeped in her head, indicating that it was ready to record her directed thoughts. Her mind flashed up an image of the big surgical robot back at the institute; the open maw of the thaumomagnetic resonance imager surrounded by its specialised, insectile mouthparts. Memories of her nightmare almost overwhelmed her; the horrible dream of ponies being eaten by the machine.

They'd want to study Fusion in detail.

"No!" she screamed, then killed her magic and dropped the connection. Pulling her wings in she fell towards the ground, teeth clenched as she willed the Maker to punish her for this appalling act of betrayal.

There was nothing, only her own guilt, and her anger at Fusion for what she'd forced upon her. The rapidly building wind matched the howling emptiness in her head.

She'd been falling for a seeming age, watching the ground approach -- at first imperceptibly slowly, then faster and faster, expanding like a well-thrown rock just before impact -- and willing her wings to stay at her sides. It would be so easy to do nothing, to wait until it would be too late. A brief flash of pain and it would all be over.

She couldn't do it. Her traitorous body acted to save itself, wings unfurling a little at a time to turn her plummet into a controlled dive, and then into a gentle arc that swung her back into the sky, trading velocity back into height. What she really needed was time to think without interruptions, as well as time to rest her suddenly aching left wing.

A near-by cloud bank provided for both her needs; it was an outlier of a storm system that was being kept as a reservoir, the clouds destined for distribution to the nearby farms when they needed the rain. She could see part of the area weather team a few kilolengths away, busy carving out one puffy grey cloud for transport, but there was nopony nearby. Gravity settled onto a high point and watched the distant pastel specks flitting around the bulk of the cloud mass. 

At least they know exactly what to do, she thought. Weather team work was some of the hardest a pony could do; you could be called on at any time and there was the constant risk of lightning, but there was no doubt in their lives. Gravity rested her head on her forelegs and stared blankly at the hypnotic dance of the distant ponies, wondering what she should do.

===

"Hold still," Spiral Fracture said, "nearly got it..."

Fusion tried to remain still, but the stretching sensation around her left eye was becoming unbearable as something that seemed to be slightly larger than her own head was being forced into her empty eye socket. There was a sudden firm push and the thing slid home, making her face feel puffed up and lopsided after the few days she'd spent without an eye. She winced and Spiral released her, letting the lid slide shut over the prosthetic.

"Let's just give it a wash. Blink when you feel the water. Tell me, what happened to your chest?"

Something filled with cool liquid was cupped against her eye; tilting her head, Fusion rolled her eyes and blinked rapidly, relishing in the soothing sensation while she tried to come up with an answer that would satisfy Spiral. It was too much to ask that she wouldn't notice, she thought. "I flew into a tree."

There was a pause, and Fusion could almost see the disapproval in the other mare's expression. "I thought it might be something like that." Spiral's tone became gentle. "You need to adjust to the reality of the situation, Fusion, and pay much more attention to where you are." Another pause, this one accompanied by odd sparkles of green from her good eye, as Spiral using her magic to inspect her work. "Good."

The cup was removed and Spiral passed her an absorbent pad. Fusion dried her eye and, after blinking a few more times, looked back at Spiral with a wan smile. "Thank you. How do I look?" she said.

"You look a lot better," the green mare said, horn glowing as she crafted the startlingly realistic illusion of Fusion's head in the space to her right. "No longer lopsided."

Fusion stared at her doppelganger and twisting from one side to another, watching as the projection did the same. She'd been intellectually prepared, had seen the globe before it was inserted, but to actually have it in her head... The thing was a featureless white, giving her a genuinely creepy appearance. She closed her eyes and looked away. "Turn it off," she whispered, the sight bringing back memories of a little black knife held in a brown furred paw.

Spiral gave a quiet sigh. "I'm sorry, but this really is the best I can do for now. Talk to Needles when he's off shift. He does good work and will be able to match your other eye so well that you won't notice the difference. I'm sure your Masters will give you the time."

"I'm sure they will," Fusion echoed mechanically.

"It's not connected to your muscles, so you'll need to use your magic to move it in step with your other eye, when you get it coloured."

Fusion nodded, but her mind was on other things. She'd spent kiloseconds out in the most distant orchard groves, waiting for some sort of Security response, but there had been nothing. As much as she'd wanted to, there was no way she could stay away forever; even now it probably looked suspicious that she'd taken so long to report her communicator was broken. 

Then there was this appointment at the infirmary.

The return visit to let Spiral insert her prosthetic eye was worse than the first; at least that time she hadn't known the truth about Random's condition. The other mare had heard about her visit to the Security Hub, and had asked after her daughter. Telling her the truth was impossible -- having seen the state she'd been in the day before, there was every chance it would drive her into punishment fugue. So Fusion had spun a tale about conditions at the Hub, how the ponies were well, but being kept isolated while they were being thoroughly tested.

Spiral had smiled, actually smiled, at the news. Fusion had felt almost physically sick at the hope in the green mare's eyes, and refrained from commenting when she'd wondered out loud when her daughter would return. 

Finally the painful visit was over and she was able to leave. By this time Fusion had already reported her communicator damaged, and had received a rather terse automated order to remain at her shelter until a replacement could be sent. This seemed promising -- she'd half expected to be met by a gryphon assault team -- but there was still no sign of Gravity, and the waiting was getting to Fusion. The mare paced in circles around the facilities hub at the centre of her family's shelter, wanting desperately to do something, but unable to take the risk of direct action until she knew what her sister would do.

Fusion settled down amid the wood chips and stared out across the corral. The fact that she'd not been detained or otherwise attacked after all this time had to be a good sign; if Gravity had told the Masters what she'd done, they wouldn't have wasted any time in coming for her. They'd know she'd managed to remove the Blessing from one pony, would know the process was fast and could be replicated easily. This would be their worst nightmare; a slave revolt that would spread like a virus through the vital populations of servitors.

Chance would be a fine thing, Fusion thought glumly. If the reaction of Grav was anything to go by, anypony that had been Blessed for more than a few years would be extremely resistant to change. I'm going to have to keep anypony I do this to prisoner until I can be sure they have lost the conditioning. This would be an almost impossible task; even with her strength she'd have trouble holding more than a few without risk of harm. And they'd hate me for it.

Not for the first time, Fusion wished this burden had never passed to her. She could see no way out of this trap that didn't end in mass casualties for pony and Master.

She tried to turn her thoughts away from that unproductive line of reasoning, before she managed to convince herself to attack the Security Hub and spirit away Random and the foals. I could save them, but how many others would die, and where would I hide them? Worse, although the foals would trust her, Random would try to escape. She'd have to stay with her until she could be convinced to stay put. Would I though? The Masters have put her through a lot, perhaps she'd be easier to convince than Gravity? 

Gritting her teeth, Fusion looked inwards to her memories of the second accelerator run. Those clear, crystalline thoughts that weren't her own sat in her mind like ice in water. She'd not had the chance to really examine the thoughts -- in truth she'd been a little afraid to, afraid that the mere act of remembering would somehow contaminate her -- but now seemed to be a good time. Nothing left to lose, she thought. 

The little kernels of thought were as she remembered them from the beam chamber. Tentatively, she investigated them, growing bolder as nothing untoward happened. They were all magical techniques and methods; some she recognised as order-of-magnitude improvements of things she could already do, some she thought she could interpret based on spells she'd seen other ponies cast, but the rest...

She picked one of the more complex spells, puzzling through the mental patterns that made the casting's structure. Some sections were familiar -- this part, for example, was similar to basic telekinesis, although far more complex and apparently fractal in nature -- others she could only guess at. The pattern was intriguing, though, and had the benefit of distracting her from other thoughts. 

Over the next few kiloseconds, Fusion worked through the intricate, interlocking shapes, taking them apart until she had some idea of the purpose of the whole magic. What she found left her stunned, but with no alternative explanation for the spell. "Moving without moving," she said to herself, "a way to shift things from here to there without crossing the intervening space."

Such things had always been theorised, but there had never been any viable experiments to test them. Fusion got to her hooves and wandered to the cold store, deep in thought. Picking out a small apple, she levitated it in the air and stared at it, then placed it on the ground and stared at it some more. The spell was unreasonably complex and highly customisable, with several areas that appeared to be designed to be changed for each casting. There was something familiar about two of the areas, almost like...

"It's another memory," Fusion said, a smile spreading across her muzzle, "it's a memory of a place." Two parts of the same room, each at slightly different locations. It made a crazy kind of sense; all the crystalline thoughts appeared to be related to ways for her to escape the particle beam, this was just the most esoteric. The mare was familiar with teleportation on a quantum scale; even though this wasn't a tunnelling phenomenon, the effect was the same.

Which made the integrated memories the start and end points. Fusion looked at the apple with renewed interest.

===

Fusion blinked as a large blob of apple puree fell from the ceiling to land on her the end of her muzzle. Fortunately, it had been a small apple and the mess was mostly confined to a small patch of the ceiling and floor. She'd been standing between the explosive fruit and the facilities hub, so at least wouldn't have to explain that to Slipstream.

The first test had not gone well. The energy requirements were not enormous, but it did require a lot of concentration. Fusion's control had slipped mid-cast and, while the apple had successfully blinked out to appear a length to the right, it had returned as a rapidly expanding cloud of mush. After she'd cleaned pulverised fruit from the floor, ceiling, and her face, the mare picked out another dozen apples and trotted out to the orchard.

She settled down at the same secluded spot she'd used for her disastrous attempt to convince her sister, placing the apples in a line in front of her. The first two went the way of her initial attempt, blasted to pulp by some inconsistency in the exit coordinates. The third just vanished and never came back; Fusion wondered if some Master was now looking at the piece of fruit in puzzlement. She shook her mane to rid it of clinging fragments of her other experiments and smiled savagely. More likely he'd be trying to get it out of his fur, she thought. Four and five reappeared, but were distorted in unpleasant ways. Number six looked perfect.

Fusion sheared the apple in half, her hopes rising, then slumped back as she saw the interior had been reduced to charcoal. Seven, eight and nine looked perfect, inside and out, as well as tasting fine once the mare worked up the courage to take a bite. She looked at it thoughtfully, tempted to try the spell on herself, but worried about subtle damage to the structure of the plant's cells.

Casting about, she located a small beetle crawling up a nearby tree trunk. "Sorry," she muttered, plucking the insect from the tree and placing it on the ground. She cast the spell and the insect disappeared with a tiny flash of white light, reappearing half a length further way. It paused briefly, then carried on walking, apparently none the worse for wear.

Fusion stared at the little insect in delight; this spell opened up a whole raft of possibilities -- as long as she'd been to a place, she could get back to it. Assuming it works for larger creatures, she thought, well, the Maker-thing thought it would. Everything else it had provided had been accurate, so she had every reason to assume it would.

"Look at it this way, filly," she said to herself, "you want to try this when a security airtruck has you in its sights?"

She called up the basic mental pattern for the spell, carefully modified it to match her experiments, and applied the mental trick everypony learnt in foalhood to convert the pattern into reality--

~~~ discontinuity ~~~

--staggering, the mare collapsed, hitting the leaf-litter with a thump. She took a deep breath, coughing suddenly at the eye-watering stench of burnt fur, closing her eyes to try and stop the world from spinning. A few seconds later her dizziness passed and she took shallow breaths, staring in distaste at the blackened patches of hair on her forelegs. From the spots of fading warmth across her back and flanks, it seemed a safe assumption that the pattern was repeated all over her body. 

It works, she thought, but I'd be very vulnerable for far too long if I pop out in the wrong place. Still...

Fusion lay there, letting her heart rate subside back to normal, and thought about what the spell hinted at. How the spell actually did what it did still opaque to the mare, but she did have an idea. Existing physics allowed for tunnels through space-time, shortcuts that by-passed the usual three dimensions and would permit near instantaneous travel. Another piece of the puzzle fell into place for Fusion, if she could find somewhere to send them, she be able to get the foals there with little effort.

"That's a good trick, something else you managed to invent just in the last few days?"

Fusion jumped, turning her head to see Gravity standing behind her. Her ears folded back at the hostility in her sister's voice. "How long have you been there?" she asked, suddenly nervous and desperate to know what the other mare would do.

"Long enough. Exactly how did you develop this spell?"

"They--" Fusion broke off, staring at the ground. "I don't know. Something gave them to me, inside my head. I have memories that aren't mine, I could show you...?"

"I don't think I'll be letting you use magic on me any time soon." Gravity's tone shifted from hostility to genuine anger.

"I-I understand, and I'm sorry." Fusion searched her sister's face for any sign of acceptance or guilt, and found nothing identifiable. "What do you intend to do?"

Now there was doubt in the blue mare's eyes. "As much as I wanted to, I didn't report what you did."

"Thank--"

Gravity flicked her wings to interrupt Fusion. "No," she said coldly, "don't thank me. You are my sister, and I think your recent experiences have caused you to lose sight of why we are here. You have an opportunity to do great things for Lacunae Hive... and I'll be watching you to make sure you do. If I think you are acting against the Masters, I'll stop you myself. Do you understand me?" The mare had stepped forward as she spoke, leaning down until she was muzzle to muzzle with her sister.

Fusion cringed back from the cold determination in Gravity's voice. "I understand," she replied in a small voice. If I can't even convince my own sister, what hope is there for anypony else? She looked away, staring at her hooves where they lay on the leaf litter. "I understand, and I'm sorry for putting you in this position." Even if she hasn't reported me, how long before my secret is out? 

This was not what she'd hoped for, but at least it gave her some time, time to work on Gravity and maybe remove the Blessing from another pony or two. Somepony that has suffered enough at the paws of the Masters that they will help. With a sinking feeling she knew exactly who she should approach next. It will hurt her so much, but it's the only chance Random has. Fusion's ears, already lowered, flattened further.

Gravity snorted. "And so you should be." For the first time a little bit of warmth crept back into the blue mare's expression. "Now let's go home."
> 21 - A Useful Monster
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist


=== Chapter 21 (remastered): A Useful Monster ===


The big wall screen was covered with a dozen data panes; tables of numbers, complex particle trajectories, volumetric energy diagrams and several scratch pads filled with equations. The panes moved and flickered as the oversized processor crunched through the data, the only constant a 'secure connection' symbol in one corner.

Vanca paced the floor in front of the screen, pausing every so often to adjust one of the equations and restart the simulations running in the background. She was lucky; unlike many who worked in the sciences, as long as she had her data, any space could become a work area. Thus, after she'd finally been allowed to leave the wrecked Institute facility, she'd retreated back to her home and isolated herself from the outside world, trying to build a theory that explained what had happened. 

It was now early morning, nearly two days after the incident, and she'd not left her apartment or slept for more than a pawful of kiloseconds in the last hundred or so. The room was dark, her own mate -- Arturor, a scientist working on another section of the accelerator -- had long ago retired to the sleeping den; he'd done his best to help her, but it wasn't his speciality. In the end he'd recognised her growing irritation and left her to it. 

The Academician paused for a second in her thoughts, feeling a little guilty. This one really doesn't know why Arturor has stayed with her all this time, she thought. She knew she wasn't the most pleasant of people, especially when under stress, but he'd not complained when she'd shouted at him, just given her the space she needed. Vanca doesn't deserve that one. She'd make it up to him, right after she got to the bottom of this... 

Anything other than her work faded from her mind, and Vanca's thoughts turned back to the cluttered wall screen.

The screen went blank, all her kiloseconds of work vanishing to be replaced by the Hive Police logo. A quiet tone sounded, and Vanca snarled something vicious, slapping the mute control with one paw. This did little good, as the door chime played again, this time at twice the volume. All the house lights came on at full brightness. Arturor said something from the den, but his voice was blurred with sleep and Vanca couldn't pick out the words.

"Police override," she said angrily, "Vanca will deal with this." She ignored the startled yelp and sudden sounds of movement from the other room. She'd been half expecting this; she'd been indirectly responsible for a huge amount of damage. Can't be an arrest though, she thought, they'd have just opened the door. That would be the next step; they'd already overridden the apartment's systems. She stamped over to the door, hitting the release key with enough force to make her paw sting.

If looks could kill, her glare would have reduced the Person in the corridor to a charred skeleton. As it was, the officer merely blinked and took a step back, the wings of the gryphon standing next to him flicking out slightly in surprise. Vanca took a moment to rein in her anger, then stepped out into the corridor. "What does this one want?" she said.

"Academician Vanca?" the police officer, a young looking male, said. 

Vanca watched the coloured lights dance over his visor. "As if the Officer doesn't have Vanca's image to paw. What does this one want?"

"This one must come with the Officer, she is needed--"

"Out of the question! Vanca isn't going anywhere."

The gryphon, white head feathers slowly relaxing, held up a portable display in answer, the slab of crystal showing an image of the Synod seal. Vanca scowled at the creature, then snatched the panel, pressing a thumb pad against the sensor strip and typing in her passcode. The machine authenticated her and showed her a validated order from the Department of Science and Thaumatology. She swallowed her anger; this had legal authority, and if she didn't follow it she'd be arrested and dragged along anyway.

The Officer saw the look on her face and smiled weakly. "The department tried to contact Vanca, but she appears to have disabled the remote override," he said. "This one is sure that is a technical fault, after all, deliberately removing that function is a crime."

"Quite. Give this one a hundred seconds and she will be ready."

===

Salrath looked blearily at the wall screen and read the text of her report for what seemed like the twentieth time. It looked okay, but her well honed paranoia -- now very close to the surface since she'd missed the last dose of her medication -- made her find fault with everything. This is terrible, she thought, but Salrath is sick of it. With a stroke of one paw she sent the document off into the electronic void, destined for the board that would no doubt decide her future based on what she should have done, rather than what she actually did.

What made it worse was that her little ploy with the servitor had come to nothing; she'd reviewed the hangar security cameras and questioned Flysoldat Gunnulf until he'd gotten snappish with suppressed anger at having to answer the same questions over and over again, but there was nothing out of the ordinary there. The servitor was angry, yes, but had operated well within the normal range. She half wished she'd actually ordered the gryphon to be obstructive, but such a command would reveal her own motives. Just commandeering the gryphon would probably get her into enough trouble as it was.

She closed her eyes and stretched, arching her back away from the chair and using both paws to scratch through the fur where her duty vest stopped. After sitting for so long at the desk, the feeling of claws through her fur was almost ecstasy, and she pushed the chair back, determined to hit the gym -- or a bar, or something -- to take her mind off what would be coming down the pipe when the review board was ready for her. She was half way across the room when there was the ping of a priority call from her console.

Salrath paused, mind already working through a punishing exercise routine, one ear cocked towards the desk. This one has had enough of this place, she thought angrily, taking one more step before slumping and turning around. Her eye caught the name of the caller, and she muttered a curse. Orgon, so soon? There's no way Salrath's report has been read already, she thought, frowning at the blinking light and wondering if she could claim ignorance.

She glanced up at the camera in the corner of the room. Little chance of that, she thought. The ubiquitous security system was part of the access control mechanism; anyone in the Pit was tracked and identified at all times by the computer cluster. It would know exactly where she was, the data only a request away from someone like Orgon.

Decisively, she reached out with one claw and stabbed at the accept button, using her other paw to smooth down her whiskers. "Yes, Sector Chief. How can this one help you?"

"The Agent is thanked for her report," he said mildly, "tell this one; do you still harbour suspicions about the servitor? This one has noticed that any such references are not present in Salrath's document.

The Agent tensed inside. How had Orgon managed to wade through all that text so quickly? Was he some kind of machine? Her paranoia, prone to accelerating down unlikely avenues, especially when she was sleep deprived, threw up other examples consistent with such a theory. In fact, if she could make a few alterations to her issue shock rod, it would be a simple matter to prove-- She realised that the Sector Chief had raised an eyebrow at her, something that for him was tantamount to banging on the desk and shouting.

"No, Sector Chief. Salrath--" The Agent rubbed the underside of her muzzle nervously, mouth opening and closing a few times. "--knows that she sometimes is prone to intuitive leaps not necessarily supported by solid evidence..."

Both of Orgon's eyebrows were raised now, and he cocked his head to one side in a gesture for her to continue.

Salrath sighed, knowing that her cause was as good as lost. "The Agent is currently investigating a theory that the servitor may have lost its conditioning as a result of trauma it received about a megasecond ago." Under the desk her paws curled into fists, claws digging into the tough pads. Salrath could disappear, drop everything and hide. She has no desire to spend the rest of her gigaseconds in a secure hospital.

"That is very... interesting, Agent Salrath." Orgon drummed his claws on his desk and stared at her. "Send this one what you have. Now."

Salrath twitched, expecting to have been sneered at or, knowing Orgon's methods, kept talking while a team from Internal Affairs came for her. Fumbling, she called up what records she'd uncovered, taking the Sector Chief through her scanty evidence; Korn's actions, the behaviour of the servitor at the training ground, the look on its face when it had thought it had fooled Salrath.

When she was finished, Orgon stared at her for a long time. "This is why the Agent pulled the gryphon out of the Military's custody? For use as a stalking horse?" He smiled slightly at his own unfunny joke. "It is a bit thin, but considering the circumstances..."

Salrath felt like screaming at him; it was only the fact that they were in different rooms that stopped her from reaching forward and shaking Orgon until he started to make sense.

"There have been some developments, and this one thinks that Salrath and the Flysoldat may be the best people for a little task that needs to be done..."

===

Half a kilosecond later, Vanca stepped back into the corridor. The Officer looked distinctly relieved to see her; he looked like he'd been pacing the floor, while his gryphon 'associate' was obviously more experienced, and had simply laid down a few lengths away to keep an eye on her door. She scowled at both of them -- the Officer looked relieved, while the gryphon just looked bored -- and impatiently gestured for them to lead on. 

As they strode down the passage, Vanca watched the heavyset hindquarters of the gryphon, his long, black-tipped tail swaying in time with his steps. The creature had close to the same mass as a servitor, but without the tall, slender build of that species. This individual had the typical heavily muscled frame, made larger still by the bulky equipment harness and an array of pouches and objects attached to it. 

Never did trust those things, she thought. She was familiar with ponies, but gryphons were something else. Lacking the magical conditioning of the servitors, they were only kept in line by training and the certain knowledge of severe punishment if they didn't obey. The problem was that this obedience training was competing with their predatory nature and the type of work they did. Perhaps that is it; Vanca is in the presence of another carnivore, one big enough to turn her into prey.

At the end of the corridor was the bank of lifts; they had no problems getting a car to themselves, obviously everyone else was of the same opinion as Vanca. Three floors down and they were at the parking bay, the Officer's aircar parked half on the walkway. Moving so he could keep an eye on Vanca, the gryphon climbed onto the flat back of the vehicle, clipping his harness to anchor points and hunkering down behind the cab section.

Vanca glared back into that flat, predatory stare, but in the end she dropped her gaze, climbing into the passenger compartment with the Officer. Glancing at her, he raised one paw to bang twice on the roof, nodded at the thump in return, then flicked on the warning strobes and accelerated into the traffic stream. Whatever she thought of his experience, there was nothing wrong with his driving -- it was just unfortunate that the police budget didn't stretch to inertial compensation for its vehicles.

Pulling the restraint straps a little tighter, Vanca waited until they'd pulled into one of the main transit routes and were barrelling along the emergency vehicle lane, straight down the middle of the wide tunnel. "Where is the Officer taking this one?" she asked.

"The secure communications facility at this one's station is being made available," he said, attention focused on the other vehicles flashing past.

Vanca's brow wrinkled at that. What kind of conference would require that level of security? she thought, inwardly cursing the loss of her secured comms bracer; obviously whoever wanted this meeting didn't trust her home screen's systems. She resisted the urge to ask the Officer who wanted to talk to her. There's no way this one knows anything, she thought, probably just the closest unit. She settled back against the restraints, unsatisfied.

The station was of medium size, responsible for a dozen levels and perhaps half a million People. Despite the time, the place was still busy. The Officer escorted her through the bustling corridors and into a small room with a conference table up against a single large wall screen. He then left her alone, closing and locking the door behind him. Vanca sat in one of the plush chairs, placing a paw on the table's sensor pad. The room's systems recognised her, and she entered her security codes to complete the process. 

The screen came alive, showing the face of a male who looked vaguely familiar. "Academician Vanca?" he said, "please hold for the Councillor."

Vanca sat back in the chair and folded her arms. "Vanca is dragged all this way, just to be kept waiting," she muttered, "this had better be good." Despite her bad mood, her mind was whirling, sorting through the reasons Indutu would need to speak to her like this. It can't be because of the accelerator, Vanca has already been put on notice for that particular disaster, she thought. 

The screen cleared, showing an image of the Councillor sitting behind a similar sized desk, although his was of polished stone covered with leather, rather than the slab of electronics and glass she sat at. Apart from that little incongruity, the illusion was very good; it was as if she sat in the same room as him, rather than hundreds of kilolengths apart. Unlike the last time she'd spoken to him, he was impeccably groomed, but with the air of someone under great stress. Something is very wrong, she thought, the fur on the back of her neck standing up.

Nodding in greeting, Indutu didn't waste time with pleasantries, correctly reading the irritation on Vanca's face and knowing the Academician didn't care for them anyway. "The Synod has decided to shut Vanca's research program down," he said, nervously fiddling with a small comms terminal.

For an instant she went cold, then the fury bubbled over and she surged up out of the chair, paws clenched. "What! After the results Vanca's group has reported, how dare the Synod be so short-sighted -- the damage to the accelerator is a small price to pay for the potential--"

Indutu slammed one paw down on his table with a hard crack. "This has nothing to do with that!" he shouted, cutting her off. "Baur Hive has convinced the World Court that we've contravened the Security Council rules on weapons research. They will be sending Audit teams, and your project--"

"Preposterous!" Vanca shouted back, "there's nothing Vanca's group has done that has any weapons potential. The pulse damage is nothing that couldn't be done with a nuclear pumped thaumic weapon."

"And what about the changes to Celestia?" Indutu demanded.

"Has the Councillor gone insane, what changes to the sun?"

Indutu looked at her, amazed. "Has Vanca not spoken to any of her colleagues in the last few days?"

"Do you think this one has time to waste on such things? Does the Councillor not realise that Vanca has been rather busy?"

In reply, Indutu did something to a control panel beneath his desk, causing a shared workspace to appear on the wall screen. Vanca fumed silently while he fumbled his way through some computer network, before calling up a document, the title page vanishing before she had a chance to read it.

"This is a summary prepared by the Strategic Threat Defence Group. Watch," he said, waving one paw at the inset window, which had changed to show the view from some high flying aircraft. 

Vanca leaned forward, interested despite herself. The time/date stamp and the angle of the sun showed it was mid morning, other than that the view was nothing more than a monotonous shot of high altitude sky, a near indigo against the painfully white clouds below. One of the moons was visible near the top of the image, a pale sliver crescent that marked it out as Luna. The video played forward at high speed, then slowed to one tenth normal. The Academician was just about to ask what she was supposed to be seeing, when the image went black.

For an instant she thought the video feed had failed, but the time stamp continued to advance. The landscape came back, not in colour, but with the greyscale of an image intensifier. Vanca's mouth dropped open, then the screen went a pure white, fading back to its original colours after another few frames. Something moved at the top of the video, attracting her gaze, but when she looked it was only the moon. Only the moon, she thought, a chill ran down her spine. She reached for her own controls, rewinding the video and starting it again, this time watching Luna. The landscape went dark, lit by the moon, then the moon went out. The sunlight came back, followed by the moon a second or so later. She played the last bit again, counting the number of frames it took the moon to reappear after the landscape brightened.

The conclusion was inescapable. "Is this supposed to be funny?" she said in a dangerous tone. "Why is the Councillor wasting this one's time with these childish pranks?"

Idutu laughed, raising his paws and rubbing his eyes. "It is real. That video is from a defence reconnaissance drone. Indutu can show you others; external security cameras, data from the network of Celestia observatories -- even from public news footage, although they don't know what they have and Security has been busy suppressing it. Did the Academician notice the time?"

She looked back at the paused video; the time was very similar to... She called up her own half-completed report on the incident. The time of the servitor's electrothaumic pulse wasn't quite the same, but had occurred almost a hundred seconds earlier. Vanca relaxed slightly, then froze as she worked out the exact time difference. No, it can't be! she thought. Ninety four point one seconds, the time taken for light to make the round trip to Celestia and back. The moon's delayed reaction made perfect sense; the light path length was different, so it was seen to go dark at a different time. 

Indutu had been watching her face; he saw the look of shock and knew he had her convinced. "There is more; this is a plot of solar output for the last megasecond." The video was overlaid by a simple graph, showing a horizontal line that was almost completely flat, apart from two sharp, negative spikes. The first was near the end of the trace, obviously matched to the incident on the video. The other, right at the start, was much smaller.

Vanca's paw moved like she was in a dream, slowly manipulating the controls to expand the data window and manipulate the scale. Now she could see what she'd expected to see, the random short term fluctuations in Celestia's output turning the flat line into a thick bar of noise. The dip was very obvious, well over a hundred times the noise level. That's almost five percent of the average, she thought, not enough to notice unless the data is examined. 

She opened links to the Institute's database, calling up her own files and checking when the servitor had been at the training ground. The time lag was a little different, but it was close. Vanca nodded unconsciously. The sun was below the horizon, the servitor was a little further away, she thought. The Academician leaned back and stared at Indutu, feeling a grudging respect for how he'd convinced her to take this outrageous conclusion seriously without having to call up half the scientific establishment. 

"This discovery is--" she started, then couldn't continue and waved her paws helplessly.

"Dangerous," he said. "We did not notice the first event; the first this one heard of it was in the statement from the World Court Security Council. Baur Hive has accused us of a research violation and is demanding an immediate audit. They claim Lacunae is building a super weapon." He scowled at the scientist, jabbing at her with one manicured claw. "Which Vanca has!"

"The opportunity here is incredible," Vanca said carefully, ignoring the accusation. "We must learn all we can."

The Councillor was already shaking his head, even before she finished speaking. "The Synod has denied it, of course, but the rhetoric coming out of the Court is not promising and this may not suffice. The program is terminated immediately and all the subjects will be euthanized. If the Institute is audited, not only will we lose secrecy, but they may find cause for sanctions and further investigation."

Vanca clenched her teeth, but said nothing. The World Court was the ultimate arbiter, only involved when things had the potential to go very badly wrong for everyone. This one guesses that accidentally putting out the sun would be pretty bad, she thought grimly. Every Hive contributed to the Court, but these days it was pretty independent. It was almost like a seventh Hive, except unlike the others it had Luna as its territory. Decisions were expected to be abided by, and compliance was checked by skilled multi Hive auditing teams.

Refusal to let a team inspect a facility would generally result in sanctions, but the Court had a mechanism to enforce its rulings if required. It had no standing military -- that was forbidden -- but it didn't need one. What it did have was a mass driver big enough to encircle the whole moon. Complete overkill for any surface target, this machine was able to throw a thousand tonne projectile fast enough to punch kilolengths into the crust, deep enough to strike at any facility. The World Court called it the 'Luna Kinetic Driver', but everyone on the ground just called it the Hammer.

Mere threat of the thing was normally enough, but it had been used. Once to end the Three Day War between Lacunae and Baur -- surgical strikes against both sides' command centres -- and once to sterilise an experimental nanotech centre operated by Saro Hive.

There were checks and balances, of course. No Hive wanted the Court to get too powerful, for that would completely remove their sovereignty. Use of the Hammer required four out of the six Hives to be in agreement, and the installations on Luna required regular shipments of food, fuel and certain critical spare parts. Frequent inspections, coupled with the absence of any servitors, prevented the Court from becoming self-supporting. No one liked the World Court, but they all knew they needed it, borne as it was from the constant warfare of the People's early history.

"Is Vanca allowed to keep the data generated so far?"

"Yes, but that is all. Security tells Indutu that they can reliably hide the data, but everything else must go."

Vanca's mind raced as she tried to think of a way out of this problem, a way to save something from this disaster. Without these results she would be ruined; everything would be classified at the highest level and she'd never get to publish anything. She needed something to show for all the damage she'd caused. "Does the manner of the servitor's euthanization matter?"

Indutu narrowed his eyes at the slightly odd question. "What does the Academician have in mind?"

"A way to at least duplicate the results sometime in the future, when all this is forgotten. What Vanca wants to do is this..."

The scientist outlined her plan, and the politician gave his permission.

===

Orders were waiting for Fusion when the pair returned to the corral, the facility hub's attention light flashing frantically. Gravity stood at her shoulder while she read them, obviously intending to make sure she followed them to the letter. Getting some time alone to think had been impossible; Gravity wouldn't let her leave the vicinity of the corral and had tailed her everywhere. To make matters worse, her new prosthetic had attracted pitying looks wherever she went, far more than the simple dressing ever had. Feeling self-conscious, Fusion had taken to draping part of her mane over that eye, in the vain hope it would stop the unwelcome attention.

The rest of the evening was a strained affair, with Fusion forced to eat a portion of the Master's food along with the rest of her family. She finally managed to escape her sister's watchful eye when Gravity went to use the shelter's dispose-all.

Making her own excuses to her parents, she slipped off into the darkness with a silent half glide, half gallop, then used her magic and a long grass stem to make herself sick somewhere out of sight. That unpleasant business over, she rushed back only to find Gravity staring at her suspiciously. She made no comment about her actions, and her sister said nothing in return. A few kiloseconds later, a gentle chime from the facilities hub announced it was time to sleep. Fusion struggled to find peace, plagued by her own worries and a set of nightmares that seemed to be breeding themselves up into a full sized herd.

The following morning seemed to fit Fusion's mood. The weather team had been permitted to shepherd one of their smaller cloud systems over the corral and its surrounding orchards and food crop fields. The rains were soft and steady, carefully metered out to soak the ground without wasteful runoff. Even the area the rain fell was controlled; the corral sat at the centre of the cloud system like the eye in the middle of a hurricane, a patch of drizzle surrounded by real rain.

Fusion awoke to the fine mist collecting on her eyelashes and fur, dusting her with an iridescent layer of droplets. She only felt it where her coat was thin, around her face and muzzle; the longer guard hairs on the rest of her body kept the water from soaking through to her skin. Blinking the drops from her eyelashes, the white mare stood carefully and took a few steps away from the rest of her family, then fanned her wings vigorously to shed their collected moisture.

Gravity joined her for a quick breakfast, the mare silent and looking like she'd had as little sleep as Fusion. She refused to meet her sister's eye, and the pair ate quickly before taking to the skies and heading for Fusion's appointment. 

The Institute for Anomalous Physics was a large place; she'd only managed to damage one of the many facilities it had that were dotted around the horizon spanning ring of the research accelerator. The site they'd been ordered to report to was one she was familiar with; it was there she'd received her initial training. Fusion couldn't really understand why they'd want her there, of all places. As far as she knew she'd exhausted all the research opportunities afforded by the lower powered equipment it had to offer.

Orders were orders, though, and the pair of ponies flew quickly through the carefully controlled rainstorm, only climbing to a clear altitude when they escaped from under the clouds. The rest of the flight was uneventful, the bright sunshine and fast moving air drying their fur rapidly. Like many research sites, this one was close to the surface to allow easy access for heavy machinery during the construction phase, and had retained its own access shaft. This was nowhere near as large as the one at the Security Hub, being only twenty lengths across and a hundred or so deep.

Fusion joined the 'in' flight line for servitors, a shallow, low altitude arc that turned into a steep spiral as it entered the vertical shaft. The pony entry point was a five length square hole set in the side of the pit, about half way up from the big cargo doors at the very bottom. Here they had to wait while Fusion was taken through the manual registration process, the mare having to manipulate a tethered thaumic sensor while a camera matched her iris pattern, horn profile and general appearance to its database. This was the process she'd skipped the first time she'd destroyed her communicator, having been brought in the back of a Security floater.

Finally the system accepted she was who she claimed to be and issued her with a temporary communicator, this one a slim necklace and studded with water-clear crystals. Fusion was a little surprised at this; the issue comms units were supposed to be really quite tough, so the fact that the gate machinery had a ready supply of spares must mean this wasn't an uncommon occurrence. How many other ponies are being put through this kind of aggressive magical testing? Fusion thought. Perhaps the fact that I've damaged another one won't be viewed with too much suspicion?

Her new communicator whispered instructions from a point inside her head, telling her where she was supposed to go. Their destination was part of the Institute's biochemical section, one of a suite of rooms used to examine servitors after some of the more exacting experiments. This location was familiar to the mare; she'd spent more than a few kiloseconds in these rooms, especially at the start of her training. 

Fusion felt her throat go dry as she considered why they'd want to have both her and Gravity examined. I've been through a lot, so it makes sense to look at me, but why Gravity? The mare, now trotting smartly down one of the central corridors, nearly stumbled as she realised what that reason must be. They know I succeeded with Gravity's training, and they want to compare us both, she thought, starting to feel ill. They'll put us into a thaumic scanner and order us to demonstrate the new technique.

They'll see that we're not Blessed. 

The door to the examination room opened at their approach and Fusion walked in. Inside were Academician Vanca, looking even more angry than normal, Student Korn, who appeared nervous, and Animal Scanner, who stood stock still in one corner and had the blank expression of a pony didn't want to be noticed. The room was just as Fusion remembered it; a bank of computers and signal hardware along the left wall, storage compartments and big freezers on the right, all framing the fat torus of a thaumomagnetic resonance imager on the wall opposite the door.

It was at this point that Fusion noticed that she was alone; Gravity had hesitated at the door, apparently transfixed by the T-MRI machine and its ring of robot arms. An impatient gesture from Vanca and the blue mare jumped forward like she had been stung, moving quickly to stand next to Fusion, but keeping her head lowered to avoid looking at the big machine.

"Was the servitor's training successful?" Vanca asked Gravity.

Fusion tensed inside, waiting for Gravity's answer. Her sister hadn't reported her, but if she was going to say anything, it would be now, when faced with a live Master. She started her telekinesis magic with a whisper of power, too faint for the glow to be noticed in the lab's bright lighting. The magic neutralization spell hovered like a ghost in her mind, the pattern half complete and ready for use at a moment's notice. Gravity first, the mare thought, hardening her heart against what she might have to do, she's the greatest immediate threat. Blow all the electronics and teleport away. Her resolve faltered a little when she remembered the unobtrusive presence of Animal. Take him too; remove his Blessing and hold him prisoner until he can be convinced to join me.

Then there was Vanca and Korn. What am I going to do with them? she thought, shrinking away from the obvious solution. Vanca... Vanca had enough pony blood on her paws that Fusion suspected she might be able to kill the Academician. No, I will not start this with a deliberate murder. Decision made, Fusion felt for the sun, reaching for it like she might have reached for a door latch with out actually opening the door. Now I just need to manage a mass teleport over multiple kilolengths without turning everypony into puree, she thought, but somehow the idea of using such an untried spell seemed to be perfectly acceptable under the circumstances.

"Yes, Master," the mare replied, staring at her hooves.

Vanca didn't seem to notice her strange behaviour, instead turning to Fusion. "This pony may have received an excessive dose of radiation during the last test; it will be treated so as to maintain its health."

Fusion almost laughed out loud with relief, the tension bleeding away with the Academician's words.

There was obviously no suggestion of this being optional. As if the order had been directed at him, Animal Scanner stepped forward to present an injection gun, already primed with a vial of milky fluid. Eying him nervously, Fusion obligingly tilted her head to give him easier access to the large jugular vein running down the side of her neck. There was the feeling of something cold being sprayed on her throat, then a sting as the needle went in.

"This will make it easier," he said, so softly that she barely heard it, pulling the injection gun away and dropping the used needle into a small biohazard container.

For a second the stallion's words didn't register, then Fusion's eyes widened and she flicked her gaze to his face. Animal's expression was filled with sadness and compassion. "No!" she shouted, plucking the injector from his magical grasp, intending to see what she'd been given. The small machine slipped from her grip as her magic seemed to drain away, and was caught in a red glow from an obviously prepared Animal before it could hit the floor.

"Sister? What's wrong?" Gravity asked, stepping forward hesitantly, then freezing at a glare from Academician Vanca.

Fusion stood there on trembling legs, feeling her strength and balance evaporate. She tried to reply, tried to beg her sister to run or fly or smash her way to freedom, anything but stay in this trap. Her head drooped, mouth moving but no sound emerging from her lips. Fusion groped desperately for her connection to Celestia, but it kept sliding away from her, the little flickers of light that played over her horn fading rapidly to darkness. A cold numbness was spreading from her throat, filling her head and body with ice. She stumbled, wings thrashing uncoordinatedly as her legs gave way, only saved from falling over by the gentle pressure of Animal's magic.

Fusion's vision was still sharp and there was nothing wrong with her hearing and, despite the drugs in her blood, she had no trouble recognising the lanky shape of Agent Salrath as she strode into the examination room. A gryphon followed her, bulky with the combat armour of a Security trooper. She'd seen this one before as well; he'd been one of those guarding Random and the herd of foals.

The Agent nodded at Vanca, then gestured to the gryphon. "The servitor Gravity Resonance TP5325 will follow this trooper and obey its orders." 

"Yes, Master," Gravity said in a high, fragile voice, unable to take her eyes from the sight of the limp body of Fusion hanging in Animal's blood-red telekinetic field.

The gryphon padded forward to stand facing the blue mare, then shoved the pony roughly to get her moving. "Follow me," he said in a harsh voice tainted with malice. The pair departed, heading out the door and down the corridor to parts unknown.

Machinery hummed and the lower four arms around the T-MRI unfolded to receive Fusion, Animal holding her in place so the restraints could close around her at knee, ankle, hip and withers. Her wings were folded shut and kept closed by wide, elastic straps. A fifth arm clamped around her head, her horn slotting into a crystal lined sheath. The drugs had disconnected her from her magic and muscles, but did nothing to still her desperate panic as the cold metal gripped her tightly.

Salrath bent over to look in the white mare's eye. "Excellent," she said with a toothy grin, placing one clawed paw on Fusion's head.

Above the mare the upper arms unfurled, the complex tooling at their tips moving like the mouthparts of tethered insects as they went through their self-test routines. She could feel everything; the heaving of her chest against the restraints, Salrath's hot breath against her cheek, the sharp pin-pricks of the Agent's claws where they pressed against her skull.

Then the Agent leaned even closer, lowering her voice to the barest whisper. "The pony had me fooled for a while, but Salrath knows what you are now." Her grin widened still further and she glanced up at the waiting robot arms. "One last thing. The Synod has decided to terminate this line of research; after the machine has finished with you it will start work on your kin."

Her last hope extinguished, Fusion screamed and thrashed inside the prison of her body; it was as if she had been wrapped in chains and thrown in to a pit filled with water. Nothing she did caused the slightest ripple on the surface.

> 22 - A Necessary Evil
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist


=== Chapter 22 (remastered): A Necessary Evil === 

Korn swallowed heavily as the white servitor entered the examination room. He'd been warned by Salrath that her good will was all that was keeping him out of a high security prison, and that this had better go smoothly. Guilt twisted him up inside; ever since Vanca had told him about the Synod's decision he'd felt sick to his stomach. He'd almost rebelled, almost told the Academician where she could stick her orders... but he'd also heard the horror stories about Security's private prisons, places a Person would vanish into without any pretence of a trial. The memory of that meeting was still stark and fresh in his mind.

===

The office was already full when Korn reached the frosted glass door. He'd been on the other side of the campus, trying to extract something useful from a cluster of partially corrupted data cores, when the Academician's call had come through. His protests that stopping the work now would further speed the randomisation of the files fell on deaf ears, so he'd left the clean room and rushed to Vanca's new office, a conference room she'd sequestered, much to the disgust of the other staff in the area. Korn hesitated at the door; at least one of the dark shadows didn't look like one of the People, more like a servitor -- although why one would be attending this urgent meeting was a mystery. He shrugged and tapped on the glass, pushing open the door at the sound of Vanca's raised voice. 

The first thing he saw were the eyes. Great orange things set into a white feathered head that was almost an afterthought, either side of a beak big enough to shear through one of his legs. The edges of that beak glittered slightly in the room's spotlighting, as if its owner had been sharpening it. "Gryphon... what--" he whispered, tearing his gaze away from that predatory stare. This was the first time he'd been close to one of the creatures in almost half a gigasecond; he'd forgotten just how intimidating they were. Worse still were the Security patches on its shoulders, which could only mean...

"So good of the Student to join us, " Agent Salrath said. 

Korn's ears flattened and he turned slowly to face the grinning Agent. She was lounging in one of the tall backed conference chairs, her smile getting even wider when she saw the expression on his face. Korn tried to calm his features, but dread he was feeling made it almost impossible. The research he'd been doing the night before came rushing back, and a terrible sensation of guilt flooded him. The Agent knows, he thought, she must know!

"Korn is s- sorry, Agent Salrath, he was--"

"It doesn't matter, Student. Sit," Vanca said in a weary tone."

Korn quickly took the indicated chair, finding himself sandwiched between the Agent and her gryphon. Unwilling to look at either of them -- he could feel the eyes of the half bird Security trooper staring at him, the intensity so unnerving that he edged his chair slightly further away -- he looked at Vanca, willing her to explain this unwelcome turn of events.

Vanca fidgeted in her chair and failed to meet his gaze, something that made Korn even more nervous; she was always certain, always in command. She sighed and threw up her paws, finally looking him in the eye. "Vanca is sorry, but she will have to find you another project to work on."

"What! But this one thought that--"

"It is nothing to do with Korn's performance," the Academician said hastily, "Vanca has always been satisfied with the Student's work. Unfortunately the research has strayed into areas under the World Court's purview, and the Synod has decided to halt the work for now." 

Salrath gave a dark chuckle at that, earning her a glare from Vanca. "Tell the truth, Academician. The work is being euthanized." The Agent laughed openly at her joke, keeping her gaze focused on Korn.

Korn stared at Salrath, confusion giving way to anger as he began to get an idea what the Agent was talking about. "No, Korn will not--" he said, surging up out of his chair to confront Salrath, only to be slammed back down again by a set of hard talons on his shoulders.

"Stay calm, young Master," the gryphon hissed from right next to Korn's ear. The soldier had stepped close while Vanca was talking, moving silently despite its size. Korn slumped in his chair and the claws were removed.

Vanca leaned forward across her desk. "Korn need not be concerned about his future; Vanca has a considerable amount of influence at the Institute, and will be able to get him a new project within a few megaseconds."

Korn doesn't care about the work! The thought startled him, and he almost blurted it out. "What will happen to the experimental subjects?" he said, resolutely avoiding looking at Salrath. It didn't make any difference; he could feel her smile widening.

Vanca laid her paws flat on the desk. "They cannot be allowed back into the general labour pool, so we will try to extract as much information from them as possible before their euthanization. Korn has had the most contact with TC4668; he will design the--"

"Before the scientists get too deep into the details, there is something Salrath needs to share with them." The Agent did something to her comms bracer, opening a link to the conference room's wall screen. The panel lit up with copies of documents -- background information on the Blessing, historical files and so on -- and several high resolution cross sections of a servitor's horn, one of which was full of dark cracks.

Korn's blood ran cold. This is Korn's research, how-- He glanced over at the Agent, the knowing glint in her eyes derailing the thought. "Where did this come from?" he said faintly. Vanca was ignoring both of them, having padded over to the screen to look at the files more closely, a small mercy that Korn was grateful for.

"An on-going investigation. Apologies, but Salrath is not allowed to discuss it," the Agent said blandly, holding Korn's gaze. She lowered her voice, pitching it so only Korn could hear her words. "It's shocking that this went unnoticed; was Korn aware that removal of a servitor's Blessing is a violation of WC Security Council rules? It's practically a war crime."

Amid the fear that flooded his mind was a trace of anger at the way Salrath was playing with him, but it was only a flicker. Why is the Agent doing this? Why isn't Korn under arrest already? There could only be one explanation: she wasn't sure. He swallowed heavily as he thought about that a little more. Or is it just because Salrath wants to see this one squirm?

"What is your point, Agent?" Vanca said, turning to Salrath and frowning.

"This one suspects that your experiments have inadvertently removed the servitor's Blessing."

Vanca snorted, muzzle twisting into a sneer. "That again? What, does the Agent want to put out its other eye? Vanca looked into how the Blessing operates after Salrath's little demonstration; the spell is designed to regenerate from a pattern impressed in the servitor's horn if it gets disrup--" Vanca fell silent, her mouth half open, then slowly turned to face the screen.

"Salrath knew there was a reason that Vanca had achieved her rank."

The Academician either didn't hear or just ignored the jibe, and continued to stare at the horn cross sections with their patterns of cracks. "How was this missed?" she whispered. Then, in a sharp voice: "Student Korn was responsible for checking the creature's health. Why didn't he notice that?"

"Korn is a thaumophysicist, not a veterinarian," Korn said, the fear making his tone more acid than he'd intended and earning him a frown from Vanca. "Korn sent the scans to Vanca that first night, and the servitor was checked by veterinarians that she dispatched. He can only assume that the data was never seen by an expert in the conditioning process."

Vanca relaxed slightly, looking shamefaced. "Korn has spent a lot of time with the animal--"

"Become quite attached to it, this one thinks," Salrath said, her suggestive tone making both Korn and Vanca wrinkle their muzzles in distaste.

"--has he noticed any changes in its behaviour?" Vanca finished, giving Salrath a glare that the Agent returned with a smile.

"How would Korn know? He's never worked with a servitor subjected to this level of stress before. It has never shown any signs of disobeying an order, if that is what the Academician means," Korn said, unconsciously raising one paw to rub at the still tender hoof-shaped bruise on his chest, stopping when he realised what he was doing. Salrath was spying on Korn and followed the same reasoning, he thought. His suspicions from that night resurfaced, stronger than ever, quickly followed by more fear. Security has far more access than this one does; was Korn right after all? 

The conversation drifted on, moving into the plan for calling the servitors in for a check-up, and the best way to handle the probably conditioning free Fusion. Korn contributed mechanically when asked, but mostly just stared off into the middle distance, trying to think of a way out of this mess. He'd always planned to check when the servitor next came into the lab; perhaps if he'd figured it out earlier he could have fixed this problem before it got out of paw, but now it looked like he was too late. 

Too late to save the pony, and probably too late to save himself.

===

Korn bit at the end of his tongue, hoping the pain would distract him from these unpleasant memories. Fortunately, all he had to do was keep his face expressionless and not do anything that might alarm the servitor. For its sake he did his best, he hated what they were about to do, but at least he could try and reduce its suffering as much as possible. He could see the expression on the white pony's face change from normal nerves to one of worry as she glanced at him. She's so good at reading this one! he cursed inside, turning away so the servitor didn't see any more.

He busied himself with the autosurgeon's controls, running unnecessary self tests. The make-work did nothing to wipe the image of Fusion's face, the pure white of her prosthetic eye bringing back memories of when she'd glanced up at the camera in the beam dump chamber. Korn found his paws trembling and clenched them into fists, closing his eyes and trying to steady his breathing.

He heard Vanca talk to the pair of ponies, then the click-click of the veterinarian's hooves on the hard floor as it moved to stand next to Fusion. 

"No!"

Flinching at the servitor's sudden shout, Korn whirled around in time to see it stagger and thrash its wings, before the veterinarian held it still in a field of red magic. Clenching his teeth he said nothing as the pony's sibling stepped forward, its concern obvious. Still silent, he watched as Salrath entered the room with a gryphon soldier and ordered the blue pony to leave.

It went with some reluctance, having to be encouraged by the gryphon, but soon the click of its hoofsteps faded. Korn knew where it was being taken, one of the animal housing units, far enough away that it wouldn't be able to detect what was about to happen to its kin. Then, when the first dissection was complete, it would be brought back to suffer the same fate. 

Korn hated himself for not pushing the issue further -- it had been his idea to take the white servitor by surprise, to keep Salrath out of the room until the drugs could take effect. He'd wanted to separate the two ponies right at the start, before they could have any idea what was to happen, but Salrath had vetoed the plan without any attempt to explain why. He'd started to protest, but she'd just said how much she admired his bravery, all things considered. Vanca hadn't supported his request, so that was that.

Paws clenched, Korn watched as the Agent leaned in to whisper to the drugged servitor. He was too far away to hear what she'd said, but by the nasty smile on her muzzle it was something unpleasant. To his right the red veterinarian shuffled nervously, face a mask of professional detachment even while his eyes were fixed on Salrath and Fusion. His horn pulsed with little random glows as he prepared the euthanization drugs for the next step in the process.

At least it will be quick, Korn thought, once the scan is complete the pony will just slip into one final sleep. At least it would be quick if that sadist would get out of the way! Whatever Salrath was saying to the pony was having some effect; its chest heaved and heart thundered like it was running from some predator. Probably wants to, he thought blackly. For a brief moment Korn eyed the autosurgeon's controls; the thing was a research model and it was possible to override all the safety protocols.

A few key presses and the speed limiter for the number two sensor arm was deactivated. The machine knew where everyone around it was -- necessary for the safety of any observer -- and it took only a swipe of his paw to instruct the sensor pod to image Salrath's head from negative range. The arm descended at full speed, striking the Agent on the crown of her head with the blunt heat sink fins on its underside. She collapsed to the floor, too dazed to do anything more than struggle weakly when the surgical suite enfolded her. The cutting blades spun up with a toothache inducing whine and the Agent lost body parts in quick succession, almost seeming to dissolve as skin, flesh, organs and limbs were stripped away and transported in a gory stream into the medical system's organ banks. 

Then Salrath stepped away from the pony and Korn's bloody fantasy was broken.

At a gesture from Vanca, he turned to the surgical robot's controls and ordered it to prepare to receive a subject. The big machine was hooked into the eugenics database and already had comprehensive information on the white servitor's physiological parameters; it was the matter of moments for it to grip the unfortunate creature and lift her off the ground. The pony outweighed one of the People by a factor of four or so, but the arms rotated her to the horizontal with no difficulty, pushing her head and neck through the aperture of the scanner.

A few seconds in the superconducting torus and the T/MRI had updated its map of the servitor's brain. The secondary arms swung down, warning buzzers sounding as the X ray units swept the head and other, more esoteric, sensors completed their tasks. Finally the robotic ballet was complete and all the sensors retracted, and the pony was pulled from the maw and left on its side.

"That will be all, veterinarian," Vanca said.

The red servitor looked shocked, gaze flicking from Vanca, to the injector it still held, and back to Vanca again. "M-Master?" it said, confusion obvious. 

"The servitor is relieved, and will return to its work detail," Vanca said sharply.

The pony stood there for a few seconds, mouth opening and closing, then tensed all over. "Yes, Master," it gasped, voice distorted by pain. The pony turned and stumbled towards the door, wings twitching and uttering faint hackle-raising noises of distress. 

Korn stared at the Academician in horror. "But the pony is still conscious!" he blurted out, jerking his paws away from the autosurgeon's controls like they had suddenly become radioactive.

"Yes," Vanca said slowly, as if trying to sooth a small child. "We need to map the neural pathways in detail, so the servitor needs to be alive and awake. The use of general anaesthesia will change its brain biochemistry too much."

"But the pain--"

"--is unfortunate, but is not a problem -- and will actually help us," Vanca said loudly, cutting Korn off. "Without the Blessing its survival instinct will take over and it will try and use its magic to escape, even though its actions will be fruitless. We'll be able to follow this in real time, once the outer layers of tissue are removed. In a way this is fortuitous, it will stop the animal being pushed into punishment fugue."

"And the other servitor?" Korn asked, feeling numb.

"We'll need to check the results."

"Korn understands," he said tightly. Korn understands too well.

Vanca narrowed her eyes at this, seeing the tension in the Korn's paws and forearms. "Perhaps the Agent was correct; Korn does appear to be too attached to this servitor." She reached a decision. "Vanca will take control of the autosurgeon."

Korn moved to one side, letting Vanca use the controls. His mind whirled, hunting for something he could do to avert the terrible scene that was playing out in front of him. The guilt gnawed at his heart; the ponies were built to serve, bred and trained for those difficult and dangerous tasks that one of the People would never be able to undertake. Because of this, he'd accepted the casualties he'd seen while working for Vanca, understood that the losses were regrettable, but necessary for the advancement of science. The others had been quick and clean, as fast a death as only a relativistic particle beam could supply. He'd lost a little sleep over them, but he'd been able to work afterwards.

This, though... this was something else. This was ugly.

He balled his paws into fists, his well-trimmed claws not in fighting condition like Salrath's, but still sharp enough to raise blood from a few spots on his palms. He thought again of the Agent's veiled threat of an extended stay at Security's pleasure, then suddenly realised that the pain and guilt of living with doing nothing would haunt him; this atrocity would poison everything from this point onwards. But what can Korn do? he thought, mind racing. 

'...it will stop the animal being pushed into punishment fugue...' 

Vanca's words ran through his head, and a nasty idea settled in his mind. He reached a decision. Korn wants to be able to sleep at night, he thought.

Keeping one eye on Salrath, who seemed unable to take her gaze off the white servitor, Korn surreptitiously ran one claw over the autosurgeon's secondary instrument panel, opening a video link to the animal housing unit currently occupied by the servitor's blue-coated kin. The sound was off, but the video was both ways, the screen at the other end taking a feed from the surgical suit's overhead camera.

There was little he could do for Fusion -- Vanca had locked him out of the autosurgeon, and Salrath would be more than happy to beat him into submission if he tried anything more physical -- but perhaps he could do something for its kin. He'd seen Gravity's medical records and knew the pony was judged to be more susceptible to punishment fugue than most. If he could show it something bad enough to trigger an attack, then the stress was likely to be fatal before it could suffer the two kilosecond surgical program that Vanca was configuring the robot for. Something like a high resolution video of its sister being vivisected.

On his monitor the blue pony had just caught sight of the suddenly active wall screen at its end. Confusion gave way to a dawning horror as it realised what it was seeing.

===

Gravity followed the gryphon out of the examination room, dragging her hooves in her reluctance to leave. The last thing she saw as she left the room was the still form of her sister, hanging limply in Animal's magical grasp. The worry ate at her. What are they doing? she thought. Why lie to us about the examination? Unless... The blue mare swallowed heavily, remembering the other surgical robot back at the particle accelerator lab. Her mind shied away from that place and the awful implications of the work that was done there. Little flashes of her last nightmare surfaced, and she desperately cast around for an alternative explanation.

Maybe they suspect and are going to replace Fusion's Blessing? she thought, suddenly feeling better. That makes sense, the Masters wouldn't want to take a chance on my sister damaging anything again. Gravity picked up her pace, eager to reach their destination and make up for her sloth in leaving the room. I hope they do the same for me.

The relief didn't last for long, her doubts and worries crowding back in the more her mind picked at the things she'd done and seen, just now and over the last day. I just hid something from a Master, Gravity thought. Oh, sure -- she'd not been ordered to tell, but it was obvious that her new Masters wanted and needed to know this secret. 

Yesterday her solution to the problem of Fusion's actions seemed to be ideal; Fusion's discoveries -- and any she would make with this new power -- would go a long way to earn the Master's forgiveness, to show, to prove, that they were both loyal and worthy of being granted the Maker's Touch for a second time. This morning, after a long and sleepless night, the plan was a fragile thing; a vague and fuzzy hope that was rapidly boiling away under the reality of the situation.

Has Fusion been living with this uncertainty for almost a megasecond? Gravity thought, resolutely staring down the corridor. Perhaps it is better to be discovered now, before things get out of hoof. When they call me back I will tell them everything, beg forgiveness. I'm sure the Masters will understand. Decision made, she regained her initial eager pace.

===

Gunnulf grumbled to himself as he lengthened his stride to catch up with the suddenly trotting blue pony. Why in the Maker's name is she suddenly so enthusiastic? Exactly how naïve are you?  he thought, throat fluttering as he started to feel a little warm from the exercise. With a burst of speed, the gryphon accelerated to keep pace with her, their combined bulk filling two thirds of the corridor.

Even though this part of the subterranean building wasn't heavily occupied, they still encountered a dozen or so Masters in the corridors, and Gunnulf found it amusing to watch them try to decide what to do about a fast moving pony and battledress wearing gryphon bearing down upon them. The pony moved to one side to give the Masters as much room as possible, but Gunnulf didn't bother. Without fail, their faces went from annoyance at the racket the pony's hooves were making on the hard floor, to more-or-less carefully guarded fear when they saw the Security decal on each shoulder of his armour harness. The gryphon decided that he liked the idea of the Masters moving out of his way. 

The animal house was fascinating and irritating at the same time. All those ready-to-pick morsels in little metal cages on the walls, all making the little rustling sounds that just screamed 'food' to the gryphon. Gunnulf found himself getting hungry, surrounded by so many snacks he wasn't allowed to take. Useless duty rations, he thought, I haven't had anything fresh all day. Visions of the aerie's enclosed rabbit farm flooded his mind, brought back by the sight of a cage full of fat black and white bunnies. 

Being allowed to chase down his dinner when he was but a chick had always been a special treat from his parents, and the thought of one of those furry packages of flesh wriggling under his claws almost caused him to open the cage. Surely they won't miss just one, he thought, a foreclaw reaching out for the latch holding the door shut. The rabbits were all cowering at the back of the cage; despite this he caught sight of something written on the inside of each animal's ear. It's a serial number, the gryphon thought, grunting with disappointment and turning away to watch his prisoner.

Gravity had slowed from her bouncy trot, becoming more hesitant as she walked past the walls covered with cages. Near the end of the room she froze, staring down at something on the floor. The mare’s body language changed abruptly, ears folding back and wings drooping.

What has she seen? Gunnulf thought, padding up behind her.

===

We're nothing but slaves to them. 

Fusion's words came back to the mare as she stepped over the threshold and into the room. Like the first, this was lined with a variety of cages, although there was no big, robotic surgeon on the far wall, this being replaced by a row of desks and a large computer screen.

The cages were also not empty.

Various scurrying and scrabbling noises greeted the pair as they walked down the line of cages; most were rodents, which all reacted the same way to the gryphon, by trying to dig their way through the steel and glass bottoms of their enclosures to escape the giant carnivore now among them. The sounds and furtive movements put Gravity back on edge, causing her brief confidence to fade into worry and fear. Her hoofsteps slowed further as she passed the largest cages furthest from the door. After that were four stalls, two on each side, extending back into the wall.

Please let them be empty, she thought desperately, I couldn't stand it if--

One of the four alcoves had a pony in it. The stallion -- hardly more than a colt, really -- lay watching her with sleepy eyes, eyes which snapped open when the gryphon came into view. The soldier seemed to enjoy the fear he'd caused, leaning close to stare at the youngster. The pony in turn pushed back with his forelegs in an attempt to get away from this new and threatening creature, a reaction that seemed to please the gryphon immensely.

Gravity watched this behaviour with disgust; she'd been ordered to go with this gryphon, but the Master hadn't said anything about letting him terrorise ponies unable to defend themselves. Besides, she'd seen glimpses of what had happened at the training field. "Why don't you pick on somepony closer to your own size, soldier?" she said, real anger filling her voice. Her wings flared out slightly, half raised as if she intended to fly.

The result was immediate and gratifying. The armoured bird-cat flinched, whirling around and backing away from the mare on three legs, while scrabbling for his shoulder mounted autogun with the fourth. "Don't threaten me, pony," he snarled, trembling foreclaw finally managing to unhitch the gun from its stowed position.

Gravity blinked at this reaction; the gryphon seemed to be almost terrified of her. "I am not threatening you, but I will not allow you to bully this pony," she said, stepping between the soldier and the young stallion. "Put the gun away or I will take it off you."

The soldier did something to a control on one foreleg. "I'd like to see you try," he said, hissing maliciously.

Gravity felt the static thrill of a force field activating and dipped briefly into her shadow sight to see what he'd done. The gryphon, a dark silhouette with slender golden bars marking his magically active wing bones, stood at the centre of a purple polygon, the only other glows coming from the crystal thaumic systems in his armour harness and a tight spiral of red from the magazine of his gun.

The mare let a smile spread across her face, wide and full of teeth. "That field will protect you from my telekinesis, but little more. Didn't you hear what Shock Diamond and the other foals did to a unit of gryphon troopers just a few days ago? Perhaps you think my orders will protect you -- but I'm sorry to say that no Master gave me any specific instructions. I, like everypony, have standing orders to shelter my kind from harm wherever possible." 

The gryphon's foreclaw tightened on the trigger bar and Gravity lit her horn in reply, calling up the latent patterns of her own force field, all while worming her own magic through the soldier's thaumic defences. The tension built, and the mare could see the fear and anger warring for control of the gryphon's features. Realising the soldier might do something stupid out of fear alone, Gravity tried to diffuse the situation, folding her legs and lying down in the opening of the alcove, blocking the young pony's view of the soldier.

===

This is what got you kicked out of the Talons, you stupid-- Gunnulf clenched his beak together as the mare, horn still glowing, calmly lay down in front of the youngster, who stared back at him with frightened eyes. As much as he disliked ponies, he had to admit that this place was starting to give him the creeps. The scar tissue on the side of that youngster's head brought back memories of whispered conversations about isolated laboratories run by the Eugenics Board, places using gryphons as their subjects... You've been in this job for three days; maybe this is not the time to start a pointless fight.

Gunnulf hissed in frustration and flicked his autogun back over his shoulder, getting some minor satisfaction from the way the stallion jumped at the sudden movement. Turning his back on them, he stomped off back down the lab, slamming one scaly fist into an empty cage as he went. Planting himself squarely in the doorway, the gryphon dropped to the floor with an audible thump. Staring at the two ponies, Gunnulf started to strop his talons against the floor and thought murderous thoughts. 

I should have been able to face her down, he brooded, the anger and self recrimination leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. That's the third time a pony has gotten the best of you. Gunnulf stared at the blue mare's back as she talked to the one she was calling 'Lilac', then held up one scaly foreleg and spread the digits so they covered his view of Gravity. He clenched them shut, feeling his tendons move as the talons curled into a cage of black knives, imagining the pony struggling weakly as those needle tips buried themselves in tender muscle, the feeling of her bones shifting in his beak, the taste of her blood in his mouth and--

--a darkened field of grass and a pony with murder in her eyes and a horn that seemed to blaze with heatless flames. A flash of orange. Staring desperately out at the world through a glowing haze the colour of a bonfire. Violent impacts and the feeling of utter helplessness that came with being held in an invisible grip that could not be broken.

Gunnulf made a quiet keening at the back of his throat, fighting off the memory and trying to still his pounding heart. I am not a coward, he thought, these ponies don't scare me! The fear was slow to subside, and he dug one talon into the soft skin of his throat, welcoming the pain as a distraction.

Next time I won't back down. Next time she's dead.

===

Gravity watched the soldier stalk off to the other end of the lab and let out a long breath, releasing the tension she'd been holding in. Turning back to the stallion, she smiled calmly and brought her ears forward. Her first impression had been correct; he was young, only a few tens of megaseconds outside colthood. A pale lilac with a blue-green mane, he had no labour tattoo and had probably only been Blessed quite recently. He nervously stared over her back at where the gryphon was glaring back at them, then relaxed slightly and sank to his belly on the padded floor of the alcove.

Gravity reached out with one forehoof and gently touched his cheek. "It's okay, he won't do anything. What's your name?"

The stallion flinched at the contact, head snapping around to stare at Gravity. The blue mare narrowed her eyes when the other side of his head came into view. The lilac fur had been shaved off in a neat circular patch that stretched between his horn, eye and jaw. A fresh scar, the width of a foal's hoof, was livid against his pale skin. It looked like someone had removed a circle of flesh from the side of his head, then replaced it. Under this scar were a number of others, all faded and old. There was a shallow groove cut into the base of his horn, right where the jewelled ring for one of the suppression collars might sit.

"I'm GZ7011," he said in a low voice. "Have you come to stay with me?" 

Gravity bit her lip; the stallion's voice contained such a tone of hope that it made the mare's fur stand on end. "I think I'll call you Lilac. Is there nopony else here? What about your parents?"

He smiled, his whole face lighting up in pleasure. "Liliac. Lilac, I like that. No, just the rats and rabbits. There was a dog here once; I used to play with him in his cage when the Masters didn't need me. He's gone now. My parents..." His voice tailed off and his smile faded, muzzle wrinkling as he tried to remember. "I don't remember my parents. I suppose I must have had some."

"How long have you been here?" Gravity asked, fighting to keep the distress out of her voice. The vision that Fusion had showed her, of Random and her foals in the cage at the Security Hub, filled her mind, making it hard to think clearly.

She tried to suppress the thoughts, but without guidance from the Maker they came anyway. How many more like Lilac? How many parents have given up their foals to this? The horror built in her mind, making the room swim. It's not fair!

"Three hundred and fifty seven megaseconds," he said proudly. "I read the starting date on my file when the Masters left it on the main screen."

Gravity's ears flattened and tears started to well up in her eyes; the stallion was probably less than five hundred megasec old. "I- I see. Well, I'm not sure how long the Masters will let me stay, but I'll be here as long as I can."

"Thanks!" he said brightly, ignoring her expression. "Hey, that's odd -- the screen normally only comes on when the Masters are here."

Gravity turned her head to glance at what Lilac had seen, then froze, eyes wide.

The screen was a big one, almost a whole length square, and produced a very good picture. The mare struggled to understand what she was seeing; there was her sister, for some reason lying on her side, being fed into the maw of the autosurgeon. Around the limp white shape, the starfish array of tentacle arms was in motion, looking for all the world like the whole wall was alive and trying to eat Fusion.

One arm, the one tipped with a complex array of smaller limbs, reached down and stroked the white mare on the side of the head. Where it touched, the fur vanished to leave bare skin in a circle delineated by her horn, eye and jaw.

Gravity moaned softly, unable to take her eyes off the image of the robot arm as it shaved the fur from the side of Fusion’s head. Unsteadily, she climbed to her hooves, walking towards the screen as if hypnotised.

"You're going to be next, after they've cut out your friend's brain," the gryphon said, voice full of malice.

"I don't believe you!" Gravity shouted, wheeling on the soldier. "We're doing good work, the Masters would never do that to us." He'd moved a few paces away from the door and stood there, one foreclaw on his autogun, and beak half open in an avian grin. 

"I heard Salrath talking to your Masters before you arrived. Whatever work you were doing is drawing the attention of the World Court, so the Synod has decided to stop everything, just in case there's an audit." His smile became nasty. "That means no witnesses. Student Korn got quite upset about that, I almost thought I was going to have to restrain him."

"But what about the Masters, they know everything!"

"They have legal protection. You are an animal to be disposed of at a whim."

Gravity's mouth dropped open in shock as the realisation hit her; this creature was telling the truth. She whirled around again, staring in horror at the screen. The view had changed, zooming in to show a close up of her sister's head, now strangely skull-like and ugly without its normal covering of white fur. The camera was obviously on one of the sensor arms; the angle was low enough that she could see the surgical manipulator array.

Expanded by the size of the wall screen, the array looked even more like the mouthparts of a giant insect. Two concentric circles of little arms surrounded a central hatch that looked like the beak of an octopus. As the mare watched, the little hatch snapped open to present a small rack filled with metal triangles. At the same time, one of the arms folded inwards to meet it, coming away with one of the slivers of metal. Even in her half-paralysed state, Gravity could recognise a scalpel blade.  

The mare's gaze focused on her sister's face, attracted by some slight movement. Fusion's big, magenta eye, still surrounded by a layer of fine, white fur, had moved, sluggishly tracking the scalpel equipped arm as it drifted across her line of sight. "No," she whispered, "no, no, no, NO!" voice building to a scream as she realised exactly what was going to happen next. 

There would be no forgiveness, no returning to the fold of the Master's service. Both of them would be eaten by that machine, the final reward for all her loyalty and her conviction that Fusion was wrong about the Masters.

Inside her mind some barrier broke. A lifetime of obedience and absolute certainty that the Masters were right in all things was washed away by the flood of doubt that had been building ever since Fusion had showed her the fate of Random and the corral’s foals. All it left behind was a desperate need to rescue her sister, to fix the terrible thing she'd allowed to happen, a desire powered by the surge of horror that was coursing through her. She tore her gaze from the screen and galloped for the door.

"Freeze or you're dead, pony!"

The gryphon's shouted order fell on deaf ears as Gravity accelerated towards him. Uncaring about anything, she reached out with her magic to sweep him aside, only to discover that it was like trying to pick an oversized apple out of a soaking tub with her teeth. Her grip seemed to slide off the surface of his still active antimagic defences, flowing around him like water around a pebble in a stream. It did have some effect, causing the soldier to stagger and let go of his gun to avoid falling over.  

Mind filled with panic, Gravity didn't even try to bring up the more complex patterns required for other magics, and simply put her head down and charged the gryphon. Seeing the soldier sidestep out of her path, the mare ignored him and galloped for the door.

Something heavy struck her left side, just in front of the wing joint. A body covered in armour scales landed half on her back, hard talons closing around her throat and right wing root. Gravity staggered, hooves slipping on the smooth floor, and tripped over her own legs to go crashing into the wall of cages. Panicked, the mare thrashed her wings and legs, trying to shed the clawing thing and keep its snapping beak away from her throat. All around her, the animals burst into a cacophony of chittering and screeching, many taking their chance of freedom when the struggling pair broke open their cages.

Gravity's horn flared brighter as she tried to use her magic to pull the gryphon away, but she was now embedded in his force field, and every twist she applied to her telekinesis just seemed to slide past the armoured soldier. He still had her by the wingroot, but his grip on her throat had been lost in the tumble; now he sought to regain that hold, using his free foreclaw and beak to try and get through the thoroughly mangled and tangled cages. Lit by the hard violet radiance of Gravity's horn light, the gryphon had a demonic appearance, his mad eyes glittering with rage as he tried to get his beak around her throat. She jerked her head backwards, the hooked tip of his beak snapping shut a hair's breadth from her windpipe.

Here the cages saved her life; cascading down from their racks, the sharp edged metal boxes had fallen between the fighters and stopped the gryphon from getting too close. This fragile defence wouldn't last for long; every move the struggling pair made shifted the cages slightly, allowing the soldier that little bit closer. The beak lunged at her again, snapping shut on a tuft of fur at her throat. Taking her chance, Gravity whipped her head down and threw herself forwards, horn aimed for the bare patch of white feathers at the base of the gryphon's neck.

He twisted at the last moment and, instead of taking her horn through the throat, the point dug in between his armour harness and back, cutting a bloody groove across the big muscles of his shoulder. Gasping with shock, the gryphon opened his beak and threw himself backwards to get away from that needle-pointed spear of crystal. With the sudden release of his remaining talon from her wingroot, the gryphon tumbled off of Gravity, his paws digging into her belly and making her gasp with the impact.

===

The breath woofed out of the mare when Gunnulf's rearpaws slammed into her ribcage, but she provided a solid enough platform that he could leap backwards out of the tangled mess. The gryphon's wings beat once, dropping him back on all fours on the other side of the room. There was a pulse of pain from his stabbed shoulder, but adrenaline and a certain amount of fury at being defeated by a pony -- again -- pushed it a long way into the background.

With long practiced movements he reached back with one foreclaw, talons closing around the autogun's folded control bar. At his touch the bar popped out, and he used it to pull the gun forwards on its track. Remaining legs splayed wide for stability, he braced himself to prevent a repeat of the first encounter.

The visor over the gryphon's eyes, still in place despite the fight, lit with the simple close quarters battle reticule, and Gunnulf jerked the gun down to place the wide circle over the half hidden pony's body. His talons clenched tight on the trigger--

--and something moving invisibly fast slammed into his shoulder, knocking him backwards even as the gun fired, all that carefully designed ammunition expending its energy on a neat half length diameter circle in the ceiling. Gunnulf let out a strangled squawk as something broke in his foreleg, suddenly nerveless talons dropping away from the control bar even as he crashed into the wall of cages behind him. 

Through a red haze of pain, Gunnulf struggled to get out of the tangled mess of metal bars and broken glass, too preoccupied to even snap instinctively at the rats and rabbits crawling over him while making their own bids for freedom. There was the sound of pony voices raised in argument, one full of desperation, the other full of fear, but he couldn't make out either of them. Finally getting his uninjured foreclaw free, he extended one talon and jabbed it hard into the 'medic' patch at the centre of his chest, just where the big flight muscles were attached to his breastbone.

There was an intense taste of sulphur at the back of his mouth, then the pain faded enough that he could think. Shaking his head to clear it, Gunnulf turned his gaze on the two ponies. Raw laughter bubbled up in his throat when he saw them; the blue mare was struggling in a field of lilac magic generated by the young stallion. 

"Let go of me -- they're going to kill her!" she shouted, floating helplessly a little way off the floor.

"You can't go," the stallion said, voice high and nervous, "you were ordered to stay. The Maker will be angry with you if you disobey."

The Maker doesn't care about you, my little pony, Gunnulf thought, still giggling. He sat back on his haunches and pulled his autogun forward, twisting the selector from 'burst' to 'full' and dropping the targeting display over Gravity. Bye-bye, the gryphon thought, holding down the trigger. 

===

Korn watched helplessly as the autosurgeon completed its first pass over Fusion, her long pink mane falling in tangled piles underneath the restraint system as the clippers shaved the fur from the side and top of her head. Vanca was still fiddling with the vivisection program, oblivious to the warnings scrolling across the top of his screen. Korn saw them, though, the machine trying to warn its operator that the 'patient' was under severe physiological stress. 

Not that Korn needs the autosurgeon to tell him that, he thought, fighting the urge to throw up; Fusion's great, gasping breaths were clearly audible as they whistled through her slack jaw. Clenching his eyes shut to break the spell, he looked at his own monitor; it was mostly innocuous status reports, but with a thumbnail video window sitting in one corner. The view wasn't very good -- it was really only designed for video conferencing, not surveillance -- but on it Korn could see the blue servitor staring in open mouthed horror at her own monitor.

Then she turned and galloped out of shot. Korn stared at the little image and chewed nervously at the knuckles of one paw, willing the pony to come back into view. Probably staggered off to collapse against a wall, he thought, doing his best not to think about what he'd just done. A few seconds later there was another little movement and the second pony in the room stepped from his alcove, horn glowing brightly. Of course the other servitor would interfere, Korn thought, but will he be able to revive Gravity Resonance? What he'd done was bad enough, but to put the servitor through punishment fugue for it to recover and be vivisected anyway...

A struggling Gravity appeared on the screen, held immobile by the other pony's magic. Korn whimpered slightly, his worst fears realised. Failed, he thought, Korn is so sorry--

If he hadn't been staring at the screen he'd have missed it. The blue mare stopped struggling, then dropped lightly to the floor while the stallion collapsed much less gracefully, his magic flicking out. Gravity stood there for a second, not looking at the display, but at the ceiling, seeming to search for something. There was something very strange about her mane and tail, almost as if they were blowing about in some impossible wind.

What's she doing? Korn thought, then had a sudden flash of insight. She's looking at us!

The little video window flashed a pure, intense violet for a fraction of a second, then went black. An instant later there was a deep, hollow boom, as if a vault door had been slammed somewhere far away. 

Under Korn's paws the floor shivered slightly.
> 23 - Baptism of Fire
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist

=== Chapter 23v15: Baptism of Fire ===


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As of the 16th June 2013, this chapter has been merged into chapter 22 (and lost about 2.5K words in the process). Both chapters have seen some edits; if you want to see the originals-as-posted, follow the GDOCs link: Original CH22-23.
There are a couple of hundred 'new' words in the 'new' chapter 22 (it alters Gunnulf's characterisation a little, but that's about it), if you've already got this far.

I've deleted the text, but the actual chapter will stay up to preserve the comments (those who do not learn from history, etc.).


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> 24 - A Dark and Angry Goddess Arises
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist

=== Chapter 24 (remastered): A Dark and Angry Goddess Arises ===
With apologies to Stephen R. Donaldson.


Out of the corner of one eye, Gravity spotted the gryphon staggering upright, reaching for his gun with one foreleg, the other hanging limp. She redoubled her fight against the young stallion's telekinetic field, trying to break his magic without hurting him. The window of time available to her was slamming shut, so she threw caution to the wind and reached out for that sensation of cold mass, somewhere high above the surface of the planet.

It was like it was waiting for her. The connection snapped open almost without her asking, like some finely balanced mechanism that could be set into motion at a hair's touch, and the power surged through her with the full force of a hurricane. With an instant of thought, a wall of violet light sprang into being between the two ponies and the gryphon, catching the burst of fire from his gun. The mare felt the shots, felt the slight effort it took to keep the field from collapsing, but it was almost nothing. That should have driven me to my knees, she thought, marvelling at her new strength, then turned her attention to Lilac.

I'm sorry, I don't have time to be gentle, she thought, looking into his bulging eyes. He was putting everything he had into holding her still, but it wouldn't be enough. She reached out with a fraction of her power and smothered his magic; the struggle was brief and he collapsed to the floor, unconscious. Behind her, the force field crackled as the gryphon put another burst into it, with just as little effect as the first time. Even the sound was deadened, the whip-snap cracks of high velocity ammunition reduced to the dull thump of a hammer on stone.

She ignored him, dropping instead into shadow sight and searching for her sister. There... that characteristic white-gold hue, although it was very faint, as if she was near death. A chill ran through Gravity and she nearly cried out. I can't be too late, I can't, she thought, calling on her power once more. I wish they'd taken me first; at least Fusion has had time to plan for this. The mare's breath hitched. I'm going to have to hurt or kill some Masters. The thought was terrifying, and her resolve started to weaken.

Something crystalline flickered inside Gravity's head, and all her fear and panic suddenly blossomed into a white hot rage. Any plans she may have been making dissolved in that maelstrom of fury, and she screamed, lashing out with her magic and punching upwards with all of her might. With an appallingly loud sound the reinforced concrete over her head abruptly dished inwards, a spider's web of cracks radiating out from the centre. Fine plumes of dust sifted down from the damaged roof, but the structure held.

She struck upwards again, making the whole room groan as the metal reinforcing bars inside the roof gave way. Jagged lumps of concrete, some larger than her own head, rained down on Gravity, only to be caught by her telekinesis and shunted abruptly to one side. Somewhere up inside the mass of fractured stone a cable fizzed and sparked, dropping the lab into darkness, quickly followed by a cascade of water from damaged pipe work. 

The sudden cold shower cooled Gravity's anger a little, the rage subsiding just enough so she could think. Snorting to clear her nose of water, she pushed Lilac to the back of one of the pony sized alcoves, out of the way of any more debris. A glance towards the lab entrance showed that the gryphon had retreated, so she reached out to slam the door, crushing the frame to stop it from being opened in a hurry. Collapsing her original force field, the mare picked up Lilac, moving him to the far end of the room.

In the sudden quiet she could hear the warble of a distant alarm over the sound of falling water. I'm coming Fusion, she thought, hold on. Gravity looked upwards, past the artificial rain and into the ragged hole she'd created, taking a moment to line herself up with the dim glow of her sister. At the sight of that flickering light her anger flipped from hot to cold; the rage no longer blinding, but full of calculation. 

The perfect planes of force fields flickered briefly, shearing off the jagged spikes of stone and metal that her brute force approach had left around the perimeter of the hole. Above her was one of the intrafloor levels, packed with ducting and narrow maintenance ways, that serviced the various laboratory and office spaces above and below. Satisfied that there was enough room, Gravity jumped into the air and hovered level with the new floor.

More force fields sliced stone and metal, while her telekinesis pulled great angular boulders from the next floor up, just as if she'd suddenly acquired a set of giant clawed appendages able to rend the toughest materials. The lack of light wasn't a problem; the flare and pulse of her horn lit the darkness a hard violet, tinted with unexpected greens and reds where plastics fluoresced under the short wavelength light.

Flying higher, Gravity started to get nervous. This floor was full of places that could hide a gryphon or military Master; every dark opening in the damaged machinery seemed pregnant with the promise of something that would try and stop her, while the hole beneath her was only protected by the flimsy door to the animal house. It was the matter of moments to pack the accumulated debris into a conical mound plugging the hole, then she redirected her telekinesis out sideways into the maintenance floor.

Metal shrieked and plastic snapped with a fusillade of miniature gunshots, as ductwork, pipes, cables and bulky ventilation equipment was packed into a tangled, impenetrable mass. Satisfied, she smashed her way into the next floor, and the next, and the next. If there were any Masters present in any of the areas she broke through, she never saw them. 

===

Gunnulf's autogun spun a cluster of aim points within the simple close quarters battle reticule that filled his visor. They twitched and swirled, hovering over parts of the blue pony's body, moving away when the thaumokinetic guidance system in the muzzle successfully placed a round on a designated point, then back again when the tactical computer realised that the target was still standing. Five hundred rounds, the standard 'Ripper' load of smart fuzed exploders and hypersonic armour busters, any one of which should have gutted the pony from throat to tail root.

Every single shot shattered or detonated on that immaterial wall, the only response a stroboscopic flicker of violet.

Gunnulf hobbled backwards, keeping his useless gun trained on the pony. His beak was clamped down on the bite trigger, even though the ammunition counter read zero. Ear plugs or no, the sound had been deafening, but the pony didn't even seem to notice. For an instant he'd considered trying to push past the field like he'd been trained, but then she had glanced at him, the brief flicker of attention you might give to someone you passed in the corridor. It was that complete lack of concern, more than anything else, that had convinced him that this was a lost cause. The wall of pale light remained unchanged, as perfect as the instant it had been created. 

His injured foreclaw touched the ground and a queasy grinding sensation, like he was walking on pebbles, resonated through the bone. Suddenly feeling ill, Gunnulf snatched up his foreleg, holding it protectively against his chest. Blasted combat drugs, he thought, I'll have to watch that. There was no pain at all, and therein lie the danger. Put too much weight on the bone and the broken ends could slide apart completely, pushing jagged splinters through arteries and the like.

Letting go of the bite trigger with a practiced flick that sent the gun back over his shoulder and down to its home position, Gunnulf half loped, half flew, back out of the door to the Animal House. He'd just cleared the door when the first shockwave hit. Something enormously powerful struck the ceiling inside the lab, hard enough to crack the concrete slab above his head. Gunnulf froze, mesmerised by a thin line of dust trickling down out of the split. The second shock nearly knocked him off his paws and he stumbled, smacking one wing elbow against the wall.

Eyes wide he hesitated, then crouched down to floor level and carefully poked his head around the door jamb. What he saw through the violet haze of the force field made him whimper; large lumps of metal and rock were raining down on the pony, but she was effortlessly catching them and pushing them to one side. I knew they were strong, but this... he thought. Light blazed around Gravity, little flares and sparkles of violet and pure, magnesium white randomly condensing out of the air. Even her eyes glowed, the big blue-green irises completely subsumed as if someone had lit a phosphorus flare in her skull.

This is no panic reaction like when she charged me, this is active rebellion. Her conditioning has completely failed. The pony, head upraised and scanning the ceiling for... She's going to smash her way straight to the medical lab.

He pulled his head back and leaned against the wall, breathing hard. It's a rescue mission. She's going to get her friend. Gunnulf swallowed heavily. She'll kill them all. A second later he jumped violently as the door to the Animal House was slammed shut, violet light flaring around its rim, accompanied by the squeal of metal distorting as the frame crumpled and warped. Gunnulf swore softly as he followed the chain of logic to the link that really mattered.

If Salrath dies, what happens to me?

A terrible wave of fatigue rolled over him, and for the first time Gunnulf became aware of something wet running down the inside of his armour suit. Lifting his uninjured foreclaw, he stared dumbly at the drip-drip of blood from the elasticated cuff encircling his scaly wrist. A sudden flash of memory -- a crystal spike half the length of his leg cutting a line of agony through the muscles of his shoulder -- and he took a deep, shuddering breath. How badly did she get me? Gunnulf fought back the urge to remove the armour set and check, knowing full well that the under suit might be the only thing stopping him from bleeding out. 

Gunnulf limped away from the room leaving a red trail behind him. Struggling with his command collar, he opened a communications line to the Agent, only to get no answer. He was just cursing his lack of a clear chain of command -- he had no idea who else to contact -- when his visor display blanked, all the combat graphics replaced with a priority incoming call.

"Flysoldat Gunnulf, where is Agent Salrath?"

The voice and accompanying thumbnail video wasn't from any of the People he recognised, a nondescript individual with a smooth, even voice. His comms unit knew him though, putting a helpful caption under the image. Who the hell is 'Sector Chief Orgon?' he thought, vague memories of the Security org table nagging at his mind.

This is Salrath's boss' boss, he thought, a sudden flush of adrenalin washing away his blood-loss induced fatigue. If he doesn't approve of her actions, I'm going straight back to prison. Orgon narrowed his eyes at Gunnulf's failure to answer promptly, and the gryphon hastily replied. "Sector Chief, I believe that Salrath is in one of the medical labs with servitor Fusion Pulse. She ordered me to guard the other servitor, Gravity Resonance." More dust started to drift down from the ceiling and the floor started to shiver. An unnatural grinding, howling cry echoed up the corridor behind him. Gunnulf put on an extra burst of speed.

"Why is the gryphon not with his prisoner?"

A sense of unreality flooded Gunnulf and he giggled. "She broke my foreleg and stabbed me in the shoulder. I've got no ammunition left." A band of agony contracted around his throat, feathers singed and miniature lightning flashed. Gunnulf staggered, slipping on the blood pooling under his paws. 

"Answer the question, soldier!"

Fumbling with one red-stained claw, Gunnulf tapped the sequence that switched his comms from throat to external microphone. "You hear that, Sector Chief? That's the sound of your prisoner going to kill Salrath. Just follow the trail of destruction; they'll both be at the end of it." A particularly loud squeal filled the air, some primary support being stressed far beyond its design limits. He looked back in the direction he'd come, seeing the ever increasing blood trail. "Stupid drugs, I think I'm bleeding out," he said, struggling to get to his paws, but slipping and falling back to the floor.

The figure in the little video window continued to shout and his collar flared again, but something must have gone wrong because he couldn't seem to catch the words or feel the shocks. "I think I'll just rest here for a second," he mumbled, closing his eyes as the darkness rose up and swallowed him.

===

Korn felt the second shiver run though the floor and reached forward to expand the inset camera window. The screen was completely black, the diagnostics reporting that the network could no longer reach the machine at the other end. That light, he thought, it was the same colour as the servitor's magic.

Panic welled up inside him as he remembered what Fusion had looked like during those last instants of the accelerator experiment -- she'd had that same, almost ethereal quality to her mane and tail.

The revelation hit Korn like a lightning bolt, the whole awful situation illuminated in a single flash. His mouth flopped open and he tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. How it had happened he didn't know, but the conclusions were obvious. It's true, really true, he thought. The pony isn't Blessed, and she's managed to free her sister. That last thought froze in his head, and his eyes went back to the dead video feed. She's coming to find Fusion. His eyes widened and he moaned quietly. What will she do if the machine has started its work? 

Suddenly desperate, he jumped out of his chair and ran towards the autosurgeon, eyes fixed on the emergency stop button. He got about halfway there before being tackled by Salrath. The Agent tripped Korn, sending him flying into the instrument panel. He struggled to get to his paws, but by then Salrath had her knees on his back and one set of claws wrapped around his throat.

"Salrath has got Korn now. She knew that you were covering for the servitor," the Agent hissed joyfully in Korn's ear, so close that he could feel her whiskers move in time with her words. "He will be spending the next gigasecond in a Security prison. This one doubts he will last that long."

Salrath leaned down on him with all her weight, grinding his muzzle into the hard floor. He tried to fight her off, but she just tightened her grip and used her free paw to capture his flailing arms and twist them high up behind his back. Releasing Korn's throat, she used that paw to fish a set of restraints from her equipment vest, fastening them about his wrists with practiced ease.

"We must turn the machine off," Korn said, finally able to talk. He tried to inject as much urgency into his voice as possible, but Salrath just laughed. Korn could feel the floor vibrating now, not the isolated impacts of before, but steady pounding, just like one of the big tunnel boring machines. The source was getting closer; even over the triphammer beating of his heart he was starting to hear the high pitched grinding wail of metal and concrete being ripped and smashed. His imagination filled in the blanks, seeing the servitor burst though the floor, only to think its sibling was already dead. There hadn't been a free pony since those early genetic engineering problems, back before the Blessing was developed. There was no telling what the creature would do under these circumstances.

Korn knew that if their situations had been reversed, he would not be merciful.

The steady vibration abruptly stopped, and Korn dared to hope that something had intercepted the servitor -- perhaps it had run afoul of some bit of dangerous machinery, or the Institute's security team had caught up with it. He giggled hysterically at the thought of a minimum wage rent-a-guard trying to stop an out of control pony; even without the special training this one had received, the creatures were so powerful that they would probably never find all the bits.

Preoccupied by his own woes, Korn nearly didn't notice what happened next. Less than a paw's width behind Salrath's leg a blade of violet light licked up out of the concrete, accompanied by a bell-like tone. An instant later it vanished and reappeared a little further away, leaving a hair-fine groove in the floor. This happened another dozen times, then the force field started to do same thing at ninety degrees to the first set of cuts, marking out a large square grid. All of this happened in less than half a second, the pure tones coming so fast that it sounded like the warble of an alarm.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Salrath jumped slightly at the noise, and was just starting to turn, one paw reaching for her firearm, when the floor under the grid glowed an intense violet and was sucked downwards at tremendous speed. Up through the hole jumped the blue servitor, wings flaring as it fought to hover in this relatively small space, surrounded by hundreds of pieces of razor edged concrete. It was like watching an explosion in slow motion; he kept expecting the rocks to follow ballistic arcs, but they just stayed there, held fast by the pony's magic.

What Korn had seen at the accelerator was nothing compared to being in the same room as the creature. She literally glowed as if lit from within, the same sourceless, deep blue light that surrounded high level nuclear waste at the bottom of a cooling pond. Her mane and tail streamed backwards in an unfelt wind, the colour of a methanol fire flecked with burning magnesium dust. A tingling wave swept over Korn, all his fur standing on end.

Any fear he felt of the Agent vanished, swept away by his awe at this sight. There was a pressure emanating from the pony, like a gentle breeze that he could feel even where the Agent was in the way. Pebbles and fragments of concrete skittered and rolled across the floor, propelled by the same force.

Salrath completed her turn, paw coming up with a compact pistol, her finger already tightening on the trigger. The gun went to full auto even before it was on target. 

===

Gravity already knew what the inside of the surgical suite looked like, but continued to study it, even as she smashed through the last few floors. In shadow sight the room was a high ceilinged rectangle, but although the walls were dark and vague, the rest of the chamber was picked out by the multitude of magically active crystals filling the machinery around its perimeter. At one edge were two bipedal silhouettes, only really noticeable because of the few crystal-using gadgets they wore. In the middle was another figure, this one outlined in light from the array of equipment it carried, pacing near the shape of her sister.

That sight nearly made Gravity lose control again; in her shadowed magical view the autosurgeon was ablaze with light, a funnel-shaped maw lined with concentric rows of teeth that flickered and pulsed, seeming to blur and rotate like the mouth of an industrial grinder. Fusion was head and shoulders inside the throat, halfway through being swallowed by some deep sea monster while its feeding tentacles probed her head.

As she cut through the floor below and brought up the spells she'd need, the Agent -- it must be her, no one else would carry so much stuff -- intercepted one of the other figures, who'd picked that moment to run at the autosurgeon. The Agent brought the other figure to the ground and there was a brief struggle. A distraction, perfect, Gravity thought, then sliced the concrete above her head into a grid of hoof-sized cubes. 

Holding the roof in place until the pattern was complete, she pulled it down and out of the way while springing through the resulting gap, dragging the stone and metal cubes up after her like attendant asteroids circling a planet. The whole complex manoeuvre flowed like it was choreographed; Fusion's talent was raw energy, but hers was the movement of physical objects, and she was very, very good at it. 

The cloud of rock moved like it had a mind, like each cube was alive and was anticipating her desires, parting to let her through and avoid her short wingstrokes, before fountaining up through the hole to surround her. She came up facing the struggling pair, the uppermost figure just producing a small weapon from some concealed holster and bringing it up to face her. It was trivial to generate a zone of force that would give any projectiles enough of a kick to miss her; in her heightened state, Gravity could feel the bullets -- like tiny, invisibly fast insects -- as the gun fired.

The mare gave one of her swarm a push, slamming it against Salrath's chest and flinging her back into the wall. The little pistol went flying; without thinking, Gravity picked it up and added it to her orbiting flock. The high-pitched whine of a miniature power saw flashed a horrible vision through her mind, and she whipped around to face the machine, reaching out to freeze the robot arms as they made small, delicate movements near Fusion's head. Leaning closer her heart nearly stopped; the machine was very clean, but there was no way it could capture all the blood.

Gravity gently reached out and released the clamps holding on to Fusion's flesh, pushing the flap of shaved skin back over the stark white of exposed bone and wiping at the runnels of blood where they had trickled down her sister's muzzle. For an instant she had a vision of the scars on the side of Lilac's head, and the rage and tears nearly blinded her.

===

Salrath's eyes flicked open and she gasped, pain shooting up her back as she tried to move. She was lying at the base of an instrument panel, staring up at the rear end of the blue servitor as the creature did something with its kin in the autosurgeon. The whole room was lit a lurid, shifting violet from the scores of floating rocks that drifted around the pony.

Taking a chance, she fumbled for her comms bracer, tapping the send key with her own emergency signal. A slight pulsing tingle came as the reply, her communicator entering covert mode as it sent its electronic cry for help. Salrath angled her wrist slightly, adjusting the view of the wide angle camera. No escape now, pony, she thought with glee, this one will see you dead before the day is out. An 'agent down' emergency beacon was always given the highest priority; even now there would be Security teams scrambling from the Pit. Kept on constant stand-by and with the fastest vehicles available, she could expect help within the next kilosecond.

But a kilosecond is a long time in a firefight, she thought, mind going back to her immediate predicament. Salrath cautiously moved her legs; abused muscles drove great jagged splinters of pain into her torso from where she'd struck the edge of the instrument panel, but everything seemed to be working. Sending a silent prayer of thanks to whoever had designed her armour vest, the Agent rolled over and rose to a shaky crouch. A glance over her shoulder at the servitor -- still preoccupied with what had been done to its kin -- then she took a chance and ran for the exit.

She'd just hooked one set of claws around the door jamb, when what felt like a steel-cored silicone tentacle coiled around her legs and pulled her off her paws. Only saved from hitting the ground by her grip on the door frame, Salrath saw the violet glow of the servitor's telekinesis crawling up her thighs and strained to pull herself through the door. She may as well have been trying to hold back a tank; her claws ripped grooves from the plastic frame and she was dragged helplessly backwards into the room.

A giant's fist wrapped around her chest and she was jerked upright to float just outside the cloud of concrete cubes that still surrounded the blue pony. Her armour vest creaked and started to buckle, the air wheezing out of her lungs. Salrath stopped struggling and gritted her teeth, glaring her hatred back at the servitor. She tried to curse the creature, but didn't have enough breath to spare. 

The servitor's head snapped around to stare at her. "What have you done to my sister?" she growled, her voice thick and distorted with anger.

The force around Salrath's chest lessened enough that she could draw a pained breath. "Put Salrath down at once, servitor!" she snapped out in her best drill sergeant's impression. For an instant, the band of telekinesis disappeared and she fell, but only for a moment, then the grip came back at full strength and she was slammed backwards into the wall, teeth clicking shut on the end of her tongue. 

She spat something red from her mouth and grinned bloodily at the pony. "This pony's sister is dead and, if it doesn't release Salrath immediately, its family will follow it."

"Liar, she still breathes!" the servitor screamed in her face. "What have you done to her?"

Salrath laughed, and the servitor screamed with frustrated fury, repeatedly slamming her back into the wall. The first impact knocked the wind out of her again and she went silent, but the battering continued. She lost the strength to keep her limbs from flopping about, and on the next collision something snapped in her shoulder. 

Brilliant pain flared down her arm, but the servitor didn't stop and Salrath realised she might have made a mistake in goading it. The battering continued and she tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. More bones broke, more daggers of pain stabbed through arms and legs, and the Agent focused all her fragmenting will on keeping her muzzle forward and tucked into her chest.

On the next impact, the back of Salrath's head struck the wall and the world blinked out.

===

Gravity felt the Agent go limp in her grasp and the blinding rage faded, replaced by desperation. She dropped the Master, cringing at the sight of her broken body and the smear of blood it had left on the wall. "What have I done?" she whispered. Too late she remembered what her sister had tried to tell her about the thing that had given her the new magical techniques. 

'I have memories that aren't mine,' she'd said. What if the thing that gave Fusion her new powers could do other things as well? If it could change a pony's memories, how much easier would it be to make them angry? Gravity remembered the panic and despair she'd felt when the video monitor had come alive, and how she'd become so insanely angry, all at once. 

It wanted me angry, she thought, wanted me to do something terrible. Well it succeeded; it's made me into a monster. Gravity looked back at Fusion's silent body on the surgical table, then down at the two remaining Masters. Something froze inside her chest and she came to a decision. "Then a monster I will be; I'm in good company, after all," she murmured, staring hard at the Academician, who shrank backwards slightly. "You, what have you done to my sister?" she said, enveloping Vanca in a haze of magic and pulling her out from where she cowered under one of the consoles.

Vanca gasped, but remained silent, eyes wide and staring at Gravity. The mare's ears folded back and she gave the Master a hard shake. "Answer me!" 

Vanca just gazed back, mouth opening and shutting, then coughed. "It's a muscle relaxant, disconnects the v-voluntary muscles and the nerve bundle that goes to the horn," she said, voice strained. "There's an antidote--"

Gravity gave the Academician a squeeze. "Show me!"

"There, cupboard," she said, hissing in pain, then stumbled as Gravity dropped her to the floor and shoved her towards the wall. Vanca trotted to the glass-fronted storage unit and pulled out an injector gun and several vials of clear liquid, holding them out for inspection.

Gravity pulled them out of Vanca's grasp and stared at them; like Fusion she couldn't read the Master's script, so the tiny writing was meaningless to her. The same wasn't true of the hazchem symbols. She fitted one of the vials into the gun and primed it with a fresh needle.

"What is in this drug that requires a poison symbol?" she said, holding Vanca still and sliding the needle into the flesh of the Academician's arm.

"T-the warnings are for the People, we have different metabolisms and the drug is harmful to us," Vanca babbled, staring down at the injector.

Gravity relaxed slightly. It could be true, she thought, why bother with us when only the Masters will be using this stuff? She flipped the gun around and thrust it back in the Academician's paws. "Do it," she said, "and we will leave you in peace -- but if my sister dies I will not run away, instead I will kill every one of the People I can reach." She leaned forward until she was muzzle tip to muzzle tip with Vanca. "And I have a very long reach." Her voice trembled as she spoke, but the threat seemed to have the desired effect.

Vanca's fingers clumsily worked the injector, swapping to a clean needle, while she walked to the autosurgeon. Standing next to the prone body of Fusion, she laid a trembling paw on the pony's throat, spreading the fur and looking for the big jugular vein.

Gravity watched the Master intently, narrowing her eyes as Fusion's breathing quickened to a frantic panting. Vanca pushed the needle home and doubt started to well up inside her, the mare realising that she'd trusted the Master almost without thinking. I threatened her, but does she really believe it -- especially when I don't believe it myself? Her magic started to reach out, then Gravity hesitated, paralysed by indecision.

"Stop!"

The shout came from the bound Master. Reflexively, Gravity grabbed hold of Vanca's paw, freezing her stubby digits where they were poised over the trigger.

"There is no antidote, the pony will recover naturally."

Gravity carefully pulled the needle out of Fusion's neck, holding back her anger until Vanca had been dragged away from the autosurgeon. "What is Korn saying, that's not tru--" the Academician broke off with a squeak as the telekinetic grip on her forearm tightened convulsively. Gravity held Vanca still while pulling the other Master up from where he was seated against the wall. 

I know this one, this is Student Korn, Gravity thought. He's the one who brought Fusion back that first night. He did seem genuinely concerned for her. And why is he tied up?

Korn cleared his throat and spoke in a high, nervous voice. "Vanca doesn't handle physical threats very well. Korn thinks she's made a mistake because of the stress. If you untie this one, he will help your sister."

The mare pulled Vanca around, dangling the Master off the ground by her arm, then lifted Korn to float next to her. "Explain," she growled to both of them.

"N-neuotransmitter booster," Vanca stammered, giving Korn a pleading look, "to counteract the targeted acetylcholine esterase inhibitor."

"Too dangerous, not designed for this job." Korn said, gasping when Gravity gave him a squeeze. "Might cause permanent nerve damage. Better to use the surgeon."

Gravity spun Korn around and snapped the plastic straps holding his wrists together. He gave a sharp yelp of pain, then massaged his arms to get the blood flowing again. The mare propelled him over the hole in the floor and dropped him next to the autosurgeon. "No more mistakes," she said, pulling Vanca forward and holding out her arm. The violet haze, extending from wrist to elbow, abruptly intensified.

There was a snap and the Master screamed, collapsing to the floor when Gravity released her hold. Something cowered and begged deep inside her mind, horrified at what she'd just done. Master, forgive, I didn't mean-- She squashed the thought, keeping her expression savage.

"The pony can't--" Korn stopped himself, then took a deep breath and swallowed hard. "Korn saw what the Agent did to your sister, the pony has every right to be angry, but hurting us will only make things worse for you."

Gravity glared at Korn. What else has Salrath done? She thought back to the way Fusion had acted at the aid station back at the accelerator. Her eye. Gravity's ears drooped and her vision started to swim with unshed tears. All she wanted me to do was listen, and I couldn't even do that. The mare shook her head angrily. "Worse? How much worse could things get? I've seen what happens to those you think are bad ponies, even when they had no choice." Her horn pulsed and a life size ghost image of Random appeared, a herd of foals huddled beneath her tattered wings. Korn took one look at the desolation on the young mare's face and turned away.

Gravity advanced on the Master, her voice rising to a shout. "All she did was defend foals when your military made a stupid mistake, so don't tell me about worse. Now fix my sister!" 

===

Ears ringing from the volume of the order, Korn started tapping out commands on the direct input panel of the autosurgeon, frowning at the result. He cursed inwardly, reading the unhelpful error message the machine had presented him with. 'Self check failed' he thought, don't do this to Korn now, you piece of-- He typed the same sequence in again, double checking at each stage, only to get the same error. His eyes widened and he suppressed the urge to burst into tears. Oh please, oh please, oh please... His ears drooped and he whimpered quietly, then reached up with a shaking paw to type the exact same sequence in for a third time.

"What?" Gravity said dangerously.

"T-the pony must have c-cut something under the floor, Korn can't reset the surgeon. It won't work." He cowered at the rapidly building fury on Gravity's face, then pointed towards the aid kit on the wall. "T-the pony's sister will recover on her own if the wound is sealed, the paralyzing drug will wear off in another twenty kiloseconds." Korn was babbling now, desperate to get the words out before he suffered the same fate as Salrath. "This one can do the work if the pony wishes it--"

The kit, a plastic box the size of a suitcase, abruptly glowed a bright violet and hurled itself across the room, snapping to a halt next to Korn. He jumped at the sudden movement, then hurriedly fumbled with the catches, throwing open the lid and rummaging through the first aid supplies. While he did this he kept up a running commentary, conscious of the looming presence of Gravity. 

"This is a trauma spray, combination antiseptic and anaesthetic, should give your sister some relief," he said, carefully misting the side of her face with a can of something marked with bright yellow stripes. "It's designed for injuries far worse than this one, stops the patient from going into shock before they can reach a proper hospital, stems blood loss without irreversibly sealing any veins and so on." He wasn't a medic by any stretch, but modern equipment made things easy for injuries like this, as long as you could master any squeamishness.

Korn continued his work, the focus required making the fear disappear to leave nothing but the quick, sure movements of his paws against the servitor's abused flesh. It's amazing what the threat of being beaten to death does for this one's confidence, he thought. Trauma spray on both sides of the flap of skin, gently push the flesh back into place and hold it there while painting line of something viscous from a small pen. Keep up the pressure for a count of ten for the wound glue to bond. 

For the first time since he'd been told about the project's termination, he actually felt good about something he'd done. No matter that both these ponies will soon be killed outright or disappear into a Eugenics Board lab, at least Korn has done what he could. "It's done," he said, taking a step back and turning to face Gravity. "The pony will be sore for several megaseconds, but there shouldn't be any complica--"

Violet light constricted around his chest and he was flung against the wall hard enough that his teeth rattled. "Anaesthetic," the pony snarled, stalking towards him, "are you telling me that you were cutting my sister open without painkillers?"

The dread flowed back into Korn like a tide. He stared helplessly at the pony, his paws dangling half a length from the ground, watching as her eyes started to haze over, turning solid white without iris or pupil. What should Korn say? he thought. "It was not Korn's idea," he said, shrinking back against the wall, "your program had been cancelled and every servitor involved was to be euthanized. We had no choice; this one wanted to put your sister to sleep first, but he was overruled."  

He wrung his paws together, an anguished look on his face. "Korn was trying to cause the minimum amount of suffering, but the Agent interfered." He hung his head. "That's why you saw the video from the surgeon; this one knew that the pony was susceptible to fugue and thought that it would die before its turn in the surgeon came."

Gravity stepped back, her grip on Korn relaxing and her eyes going back to their normal teal colour, her face going slack with shock. "You would have had me tortured to death. Do you have any idea what the Maker's Test is like?" she said faintly.

"Korn didn't know what to do!" he cried. "All choices lead to suffering, including this one's own. Korn will spend the rest of his life in prison for what he's done." His face crumpled, tears running down his muzzle. "Kill Korn now, it would be a mercy. It's his fault that Fusion got found out."

===

Gravity stared at the Master, hanging halfway up the wall in her unbreakable telekinetic grip. He was crying helplessly now, great, gasping sobs through paws held over his face. It sounds like he's just as trapped as I am, only without the immediate promise of vivisection, she thought bitterly. We did everything that was asked of us, and this is the reward. Is this really the best the future holds, a quick death? The unfairness of it all threatened to overwhelm the mare and her magical grip tightened involuntarily.

Korn's choked gasp brought Gravity back to the here and now and she relaxed a little. "If you hadn't turned on the monitor I would have returned to the lab and meekly followed my sister into the maw of your robotic surgeon," she said slowly. "I have to live with my choices, and so do you." She released her magic and lowered Korn gently to the floor, then turned her back on him and jumped over the hole to stand at Fusion's side. "Do not try to leave," she said, not looking around.

Her anger spent, Gravity hesitantly leaned forwards, looking down at her sister's partially shaved head. The wound looked terrible, and no doubt she'd have quite a scar when the fur grew back. The big magenta eye tracked her as she bent forwards, glistening with unshed tears. Gravity's own vision swam, and she blinked furiously to clear her sight, wanting to see clearly for the last kilosecond of her life. 

Violet light flickered over the straps, then over Fusion herself. Gently, Gravity lifted her sister out of the restraint system and lowered her to a cleared patch on the floor, pushing back the big robot arms. "I'm so sorry; I should have listened to you. I just wish we could talk..." Gravity said mournfully, letting go of the rest of her magic. Her collection of floating rocks sank to the ground and she folded her legs and sat next to Fusion, huddling close and draping one wing over her sister's limp body.

Resting her head on Fusion's neck, Gravity listened as the white mare's breathing slowed from its frantic panting and became calm. They will come for us soon, she thought, and I don't know what to do.

> 25 - Locking the stable door... 
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist

=== Chapter 25 (remastered): Locking the stable door... ===


Gravity stared dull eyed at the door to the surgical suite. There was movement behind the force field she'd thrown across the entrance; a bipedal shape that she didn't bother to focus on started to pound on the slick surface with some tool. The impacts were inaudible, even in the quiet of the lab.

The silent hammering stopped, replaced by an arcane pressure from the ponies that had gathered in the corridor. "They're examining my barrier again, Fusion," Gravity said softly, moving one wing in long, slow strokes along her sister's flank. The two ponies lay next to each other, Fusion on her uninjured side with Gravity tucked into the curve of her back, legs neatly folded under her belly. Fusion's breathing started to accelerate, her fur growing damp under the blue mare's wing.

Gravity looked down at her sister, smiling sadly. "I won't let them hurt you again." She bowed her head in silent regret. "I just wish..." The mare tailed off, staring into Fusion's eye. All the time she watched, the eye stared back at her, except for a curious tic where it would roll up, as if Fusion was trying to look at the top of her own skull.

...or her horn, Gravity thought, disgusted at her own stupidity. She thought back carefully, hunting for her memories of the sharing spell Fusion had used, marrying it with what little she'd seen Random do with the foals she cared for. Tentatively, she put the spell together, watching how Fusion responded to the magic. Despite what Vanca had said, there were still traces of something there; enough that she could feel her sister's mind open up before her. She applied a tiny nudge of power and stepped inside.

She braced herself -- this was Fusion's mental space and, considering what she'd just been through, could be a true nightmare -- but was immediately enveloped by a wall of stiff white feathers. The wings wrapped around her, a white furred head pressing against her neck.

"Oh Maker, you came back for me."

The words were distorted, choked with emotion, and Gravity felt her own throat close up. "I..." Words failed her; guilt and the desperate nature of their predicament settling on her mind like a mountain, paralysing thought and making her eyes fill up with tears. "What are we going to do?"

Fusion pulled out of the embrace, blinked and gazed at Gravity with both eyes from a face free of any trace of surgery. "I'd missed not being able to see you with both eyes," she murmured, smiling for what must have been the first time in almost a megasecond. The simplified version of the lab she'd imagined for the shared environment was pristine, with none of the damage Gravity had inflicted visible, and ended at a patch of smeared colour where the open door should have been.

The blue mare stared back, silenced by the weight of her guilt. She opened her mouth, but no words came. 

Fusion saw Gravity's expression and her smile vanished. She rose to her hooves and stared down at Gravity, then leaned forward to wrap her wings around her sister once more. "We can talk later, but the important thing is that you came back for me. I put you in an impossible position, but you did far more than I managed." Fusion stepped away, pacing the lab. "We have to get away from here, go somewhere away from all the Masters, somewhere they won't find us easily; it won't be more than another couple of hundred seconds before Security gets here. I'm actually surprised they're not here already."

Gravity nodded jerkily. "I don't know what to do; there's no way we can escape without them following us, and the instant we're in range of that thing they used at the training centre..."

"That teleport spell is good for more than just moving apples," Fusion said, then her smile came back, broad and full of malice. "And if the Masters try and stop us, well... I think you'll be surprised at just what you are capable of now."

===

GZ7011's head hurt. The last round of experiments had left him with a persistent headache that fought constantly against the little flashes of pleasure he was receiving from the Maker as a reward for doing such a difficult job. He opened his eyes slowly; they were stinging like he'd tried to have another staring contest with the rabbits from half way down the lab. There was nothing to see -- the lab was in complete darkness, without even the constant glows of the computer console. His ribs and legs ached from being pressed against the hard floor, and he moved slightly to reduce the pressure. Have I rolled off my sleeping pad again? he thought. Under his belly was a liquid feeling, and he was flooded with an immediate sense of shame.

He whimpered quietly, hoping it wasn't too bad. If I can get cleaned up before my Masters get in, perhaps they won't notice, he thought. For some reason his sleeping body refused to follow the orders of his waking mind, and no matter how strictly his Masters ordered him, he kept wetting the sleeping pad. GZ7011 whimpered again and fought back the urge to cry.

A flash of light, a brief blue-white flicker the colour of a surgical laser, lit the lab. Did I... he thought, mind freezing at the sight. His home was devastated; little furry shapes were scurrying over and around the piles of wrecked cages, their chrome steel bars filling the room with glittering reflections. Further along, where the little treadmill and wing exercise armature rig normally sat, was a sharp edged block of concrete almost the same size as he was. 

The light died, but not before he saw the floor to ceiling mound of stone, water running down its sides to feed the ever growing puddle that reached all the way to where he'd awoken. Despite the wreckage, GZ7011's spirits lifted. Not me, he thought, there's no way this was me. He stood up and fanned his wings, the clipped primary feathers moving the air, but doing little to lift him above the pool, then stretched all four legs and shook vigorously to shed the water from his fur. I didn't pee myself!

Then the headache faded and the memories returned.

A kindly blue mare facing down a beaked monster that reeked of hatred and anger. Quiet conversation with one of his own kind -- not something he normally got to do, outside of a quick word with other ponies helping the Masters with their research -- and a feeling of being protected, like from before he had to leave his mother. A name; she had given him a name.

"Lilac," he said into the darkness. "I like that much more than GZ7011."

But there was more. The side of a white mare's head, fur shaved off. A magenta eye following the hard shapes of surgical equipment as they moved with machine precision. Violence, screaming, and the brutal surge of magic more powerful than he'd ever felt before.

The blue mare had disobeyed an order from her Master. Lilac lit his horn and paced the floor, hooves throwing up little sprays of water. The idea was terrifying. "Perhaps she knew something that her Master didn't," he said, "and that meant she had to do something bad. Is another Master at risk?"

That didn't sound right either. She'd said they are going to kill 'her', so she must have been talking about the pony on the monitor. Deep in thought, Lilac bent one wing forward and gently ran it over the scars on the side of his head. His last session in the surgeon had only been a couple of days ago, but the cuts were healing nicely. My Masters were so clever to let me learn the healing spells, he thought, this way I can do more experiments for them. The white mare's face, though... Are they doing the same to her as they do to me? Why was she still awake? A little flash of jealousy flickered through him, followed by a stabbing pain.

The ache brought Lilac back to the real world. I'm sorry, Maker, he said, instantly contrite, there're enough experiments for all the ponies, if the Masters wish it. He shook his head; somehow the blue mare had managed to put the welfare of the white one above the desires of her Master. I should go and warn someone. He paused, hopping from hoof to hoof in indecision. But I'm not allowed out of the lab on my own!

Lilac deliberately placed all four hooves on the ground, then lifted his head to stare at the door. "The Masters might need to know what I've seen."

Now he'd put words to it there was no going back. Lilac turned to the door, horn flaring as he applied his full strength, ripping it out of the damaged frame. The lights were still on in the corridor, not the full, glaring white of the lab during the day, but a dull red that made everything look somehow sinister. On the floor were a few splatters of a dark liquid, the start of a trail that led to the end of the passageway. Lilac hesitated, nostrils flaring at the metallic odour.

The smell was the same as when his Masters took blood samples. But there is so much of it, he thought, trotting down the corridor. The trail was getting heavier, little puddles and smears cut through with odd shapes that Lilac realised must be from the strange, mismatched hooves of the beaked monster.

Around the corner he saw it. It was the monster, but somehow smaller and a bit pathetic. The creature lay slumped at the corner of wall and floor, surrounded by a slowly spreading pool of blood. Hesitantly, he stepped closer, ready to jump away if it should suddenly move. Nothing. It looked like it was asleep, but there was no sign of breath. More blood was leaking sluggishly from the collar of the creature's bulky clothing, the liquid running down its beak to drip from the tip. 

Instinctively, Lilac reached out with his magic, examining the creature's chest for signs of an injury. It looked quite similar to his own insides -- the same muscle groupings and bone structure -- close enough that he started to think of the creature as just another servant of the Masters. That thought rattled around his mind while he traced the path of damage made by something long and sharp. This thing was just trying to stop her, just like me.

Long practice at healing his own wounds had made Lilac skilled in both the difficult mental trick of scanning his own head and a competent medic, at least for simple soft-tissue injuries. It was the matter of moments for him to sweep the half bird creature's torso with his magic. There was no heartbeat, and all the larger blood vessels were shrunken and collapsed. 

The stallion opened his eyes and looked down at the pool of blood, ears folding in distress. Even if he could restart its heart, there was no blood left for it to pump; one of the arteries feeding the monster's flight muscles had been nicked by whatever had stabbed its shoulder. Lilac moved the body into a more comfortable looking position, then backed away, wondering what to do next. 

Lilac felt something tickle at the back of his head, just like when it was his turn in the thaumic scanner. He hesitated, casting around with his shadow sight for the source of the sensation. There... several floors up and a little over to one side was a flare of magic, the staccato pulse of lots of little spells being cast in quick succession, followed by a surge of telekinesis magic that just kept getting stronger and stronger. The pony at the centre of the spells glowed with a radiance that was almost painful to behold, not just from its horn and wings, but from its whole body.

There was something else; the normal background glow of various crystal thaumic systems scattered through the volume of the lab complex was damaged. An irregular tunnel of darkness wormed its way from the floor he was in, all the way up to where the strange pony was. Mouth dropping open, Lilac suddenly realised who it was. It's the blue mare! he thought, recognising the taste of her power. The reason for the damage and the great mound of rubble became obvious; she'd smashed her way from his lab to this other room, devastating everything in between. 

He shook his head, unable to accept what he was seeing. What could be so bad to make her do that? he thought, I can't delay any longer. He stepped away from the feathered creature slumped at his hooves, offering it a silent apology for not being able to help it, then hesitated. It's not that big, he thought, I could take it with me. Steeling himself, Lilac enveloped the creature in his telekinetic field and lifted it into the air, making sure to hold all its limbs steady. That done, he cantered off down the corridor, monster in tow like some large, feathered balloon.

There were the cargo lifts, but he ignored them for the more direct central access ramp. Lilac fluttered his clipped wings, for the first time wishing his Masters had left his flight feathers intact so he could fly up the wide corridor. By the time he'd reached the top of the ramp he had slowed to a trot and was breathing heavily, spots of foam collecting on his flanks. Ahead was the main corridor and he had to stumble to a sudden stop to avoid crashing in to the peach coated backside of a pony standing at the top of the ramp.

The sight that greeted Lilac as he danced to a halt was one of agitated ponies and stunned Masters. The Masters -- a group of three standing well back from the surgical suite’s door, none of whom were part of the group of scientists who frequented his lab -- were talking amongst themselves, with plenty of gesticulation, but little in the way of any firm orders for the ponies standing between them and the door. As Lilac watched, one of the Masters stepped forward, addressing the pony blocking his path.

“Get out of this one’s way, servitor!”

Along with the aggressive tone came emphatic gestures and exposed canine teeth. The pony, a long legged mare with an abnormally plump belly and a patchy white and chestnut coat, bowed her head and flattened her ears, but didn’t stand aside. She shook her head and the Master looked shocked.

“Master, it is too dange--“, she said, breaking off when the Master lifted one arm and struck her across the muzzle with the back of his paw. Her head snapped sideways with the force of the blow, and Lilac caught a fleeting glimpse of parallel scratches across her jaw. Tears glittered in her eyes, but she stayed where she was, raising her wings when the Master took a step forward to push past her.

He raised his paw again and the mare flinched in anticipation of the blow, slowly relaxing when one of the other Masters caught his paw before it could descend. "The pony may be right, Korcari," said the second Master, a female with dark, almost black fur. She pointed at the door to the surgical suite, but the male was already looking in that direction, face gone slack with shock.

Something the size of a small melon flashed through the doorway at above head height, exploding into a thousand fragments when it struck the opposite wall. At the same time one of the bird-monsters came stumbling through the lab door at a dead run, blood leaking from small wounds on every exposed patch of fur or feathers. One wing hung loose, as if the creature couldn't fold it. As soon as his tail cleared the door there was the sound of a crystal bell, and a violet wall of light snapped across the opening. He collided with the wall, coming to an untidy stop among the sharp edged stone splinters. 

"S-she let me go," he said, "said to tell you that she was serious and to stay away." He staggered to his paws, and would have collapsed again if a pony hadn't caught him in a field of magic.

Another one! Lilac thought. "Excuse me," he said, making the pony in front of him jump, "I found another one of the monsters a few floors down. He's dead, I couldn't do anything. "

The peach stallion whirled around, wings flaring to block the passageway, then relaxing as he saw Lilac and his bloody cargo. "Pass him down to Autoclave, she'll take care of him." Lilac started to walk past the stallion, but the pony flicked one wing out to block his path. "You stay back here with me while you do it, no point in too many of us being close."

Lilac nodded, sending the corpse floating down the corridor and placing him next to the other one, who was already being worked on by the veterinarian, a dark green mare. "Why is she doing all this?" he said. "And what are those things?"

"Those are gryphons," the stallion said absently, then narrowed his eyes at Lilac. "She? Do you know the ponies in there?"

"I know one of them," Lilac said cautiously, "the blue mare, she was in my lab with the g-gryphon--" He stumbled slightly over the unfamiliar word. "--when the screen started to show another pony being put through a surgical robot. Is the other one white with a pink mane and tail?" The stallion nodded slowly. "Then it must be her. But I don't understand, I thought a Master was hurt, or that she knew something about the white mare that her Masters didn't, and that was why she cut through the ceilings to get here."

"There are hurt Masters," the stallion said grimly, "but she won't let us in to help them. She just pushes us back and blocks any magic we try, even if we all work together. I've never seen such a strong pony. We've been reduced to keeping our Masters away from her."

Lilac stared past the pony, watching the veterinarian work. That can't be right, why would she keep us out? "What about the other gryphon?" he said slowly, mind whirling.

"He's the partner of a police officer. We couldn't keep his Master out; he's allowed to enter dangerous situations." Here the stallion took a deep breath, wincing as if in pain. "He went in and didn't come back." He looked uncertain, obviously reluctant to pass on the next bit of information. "I can't even imagine something like this, but she said that if we try and go in she'll--" He broke off, mouth open as he looked at Lilac's confused expression. He shivered all over and his next words were forced out of a jaw nearly locked solid. "Never mind. All you need to know is that we must keep as many Masters away as possible."

===

"Tacomp; replay last twenty seconds."

Captain Rthar paused, balanced on one paw, while the short bit of video played again. The 'agent down' orders had been clear, but the data packet with them had been very strange. It didn't make much sense the second time around. Cubes of rock, obviously supported by the glow of telekinesis, orbiting around a servitor hovering over a hole in the floor. Picture quality was poor; ultra wide angle and distorted like a fish's eye, shot from the pinhead lens on the outer surface of some poor Agent's comms bracer.

The view then flipped, showing a shot of floor at a crazy angle and whipping back and forth as if the arm holding the bracer was waving around. Running for the exit, Rthar thought. A close-up of the door with a set of paws hooked around the frame, followed by the screech of claws on metal. Then the camera flew back towards the blue servitor, coming to a halt near the circling rocks. Here the image and audio distorted, made almost unwatchable by sparkles of static and that harsh feedback whine you got when inside a powerful thaumic field. The big computers in analytics were still grinding through the raw files to try and clean it up, but for now this was as good as it was going to get. The final few seconds were the most tantalizing -- and the most unbelievable.

The sounds of one of the People talking with someone, followed by a violent motion and a heavy impact. A second speaker, almost incoherent with rage, shouting something back, then the video dissolved to leave only the accelerometer data signalling a series of fast, violent shocks. In those last moments there was a single clear frame, one image miraculously untouched by the ravages of magical interference. 

The same servitor, a dusky-blue furred female, her face twisted in anger and eyes a pure, solid white.

Rthar shivered. Going to need a heavy session in the bar to get rid of that image, he thought. Can it really be true? A servitor has done all this? He could understand the priority this was given now, why so many other units were being scrambled. If it got out that servitors could turn on the People, then the effects could be catastrophic. Thank the Maker for antimagic systems, he thought, jamming his other paw into the leg of the undersuit. 

The ready room was right next to the priority hangar, situated in the top layer of access points around the shaft of the Pit. Already he could hear the bass rumble of the dropship's plasma drive idling, waiting for his team to climb on board. Shrugging into the top half of the suit, Rthar turned his attention to the rest of the ready room, where the other four members of the strike team were donning their suits. "Have Elorm's animals been loaded?" he said, striding to the hatch and yanking it open to fill the room with the blue glare of the dropship's exhaust, bright even though it was reflected from the blast wall opposite, before turning back to the ready room.

"Yessir," Elorm replied, her grey-furred paws twitching as she used the haptic interface to query the dropship's management systems. "Two squads of gryphons and a team of servitors." There was a pause as she met his stare, her eyes troubled. "Does the Captain think it will be enough?" 

"Against one, almost certainly panicking, servitor?" Rthar said, turning to trot towards the loading ramp. He snorted in amusement. "This one should think so." Inside the drop bay he busied himself with the splayed shape of his armour suit, attached to the wall and looking for all the world like the flayed skin of a scaly giant. The comfortable routine, drilled until it was practically instinctive, helped keep the pre-operation nerves at bay.

Despite this, and despite what he'd said to Elorm, he couldn't shake the memory of that single perfect frame of the servitor's face.

===

Gravity felt the delicate touch of unfamiliar magic and broke off her examination of Fusion's teleportation spell. She was finding it irritatingly difficult to understand, and the distraction broke her concentration completely. "Somepony is at the lab door and they're unpicking my force field," she said, ears flattening. "What should I do?"

Fusion looked up from where she was showing her sister a magnified part of the complex spell's mental pattern, eyes going to the door, even though there was nothing to see from inside the sharing environment. "Don't give them time to think. Even if I show you how to break their Blessing, it could be megaseconds before they will help us. At worst, even contact with you might put them under suspicion." Fusion's mouth formed into a hard line. "You must be hard on them, don't give the Masters an excuse to hurt them. Do enough to make sure they leave you alone until you can get this spell working."

Gravity swallowed. How long have you been planning this, sister? she thought. The intensity in Fusion's voice was frightening. "You've thought about this already."

"Every night instead of sleeping. What--"

"They're nearly through, got to go. Let me just try..." Gravity isolated subsections of the sharing spell, letting the parts governing the simulated environment fade. Fusion blinked out and the lab suddenly reacquired its piles of wreckage. Are you still there? she subvocalised, making a conscious effort to direct her thoughts into the spell.

I am, Fusion said, her voice seeming to come from the centre of Gravity's head. You've picked this up far faster than I did, and I had Random training me.

Gravity felt her force field fade as the other pony finally unpicked enough of its structure to start to cancel the power she'd put into it. It seemed to take an age; normally a force field only held for as long as a pony was willing to reinforce it, fading quickly as its barrier strength was eroded by the constant abrasion of air molecules. Whoever it is might be being careful, or I put a lot more power into it than I realised, she thought. This will take some getting used to. She shifted her gaze to Fusion's limp body, then tucked her out of sight of the door. "Just seems natural. In fact..."

Fusion gasped. You'll have to teach me that one, she said. Show me the rest of the room.

Gravity smiled smugly. It's not just you who can make new magic, she thought, letting her gaze flick from door to hole in the floor to cowering Masters. It wasn't quite all her own work; the clairvoyance pattern was something she'd used before, but linking her own sight back into the sharing environment was something that just seemed obvious and right. She wondered what it looked like to Fusion -- not being able to move the viewpoint by herself must be incredibly frustrating.

I can hear you, you know. What state are the Masters in?

I know, Gravity thought. "Korn is fine, Vanca has a broken arm. Salrath..." The blue mare paused, trying to get to grips with what she'd done. "I think I killed her," she said, staring at the crumpled body.

There was a long silence. Maybe, Fusion said, a curiously wistful tone in her voice. I kind of wish that I-- There was a sigh down the mental link. I think she's still breathing. Good, give the Agent to the first pony in. Tell them to keep everypony out, otherwise you'll do the same thing to the others.

Gravity flinched at her sister's brutal directness, then slumped. It's nothing I haven't already done, she thought, staring at Vanca, who shrank back against the wall, cradling her broken arm protectively. 

I think it will get far worse before it gets better. I didn't want it to be this way, but I doubt they'll let us go without a fight.

My fault-- Gravity thought, the surge of guilt cut short by a little twitch of sensation as the violet wall across the doorway vanished. "Here we go," she whispered, picking up the Agent in a haze of magic, the slight movements of Salrath's chest producing little tremors of feedback through her magic. So you are still alive, she thought, almost unconsciously tightening her grip on Salrath's head and twisting it slightly. The Agent's eyes flickered open at the increased pressure and she moaned. Gravity shivered; there was a terrible looseness to Salrath's body, the limbs flexible in places away from any joint.

There was the clatter of hooves and a white and chestnut mare, obviously heavily pregnant, trotted into the room. She was missing half the fur from one flank, the smoothness of her pink-with-brown blotched skin marred by a large and fresh looking L-shaped scar, just behind her ribs. On seeing Gravity she skidded to a stop, then her eyes found the floating shape of the Agent. "By the Maker, how did this happen?" she said, horn glowing as she reached for Salrath. Her telekinesis enfolded the Agent, the white glow warring with the violet of Gravity's magic.

The visible marks of recent surgery on the skewbald mare went a long way to bolster Gravity's anger at what was being done here. Even to the unborn, she thought, we are truly nothing more than animals to them. Holding an image of Lilac in her mind, Gravity shoved Salrath at the pony, hard enough that she bounced off the mare's chest and left smears of blood, stark and red, against the white fur of her chest. The mare stumbled backwards into the doorway, blocking the way of at least two other ponies, one a dark green and the other an orange-yellow. Gravity then walked forward, wings half raised in a gesture of threat, and started to push all of the newcomers back into the corridor. The mare's mouth opened and closed, gaze switching from Gravity to the Master and back again. 

"W-what are you--"

Gravity didn't give her a chance to finish the sentence. "Get out and stay away. If you try to come in again, I'll do to this one what I did to the other." She reached back without looking and grabbed hold of Vanca, holding her in front of the confused mare. Vanca gasped, muzzle twisted in pain as the sudden motion jostled her broken arm. More violet light enfolded the Master's arm, pulling it away from where it had been cradled protectively against her chest and holding it flat in the air. "Isn't that right, Academician Vanca?"

Vanca’s ears, already folded back, almost disappeared into her skull. "No, please, don't--" she babbled, breath coming in short pants.

Easy, sister, were trying to convince them to back off, not charge in immediately, Fusion said from inside Gravity's skull.

Gravity ignored her sister's worried tone, steeling herself for the next task. "You drove me to this," she said, staring into Vanca's eyes, then turned her gaze back towards the skewbald mare. Part of her died at the shock and horror on the pony's face. A monster, she thought, I am truly a monster. She gently squeezed Vanca's broken arm.

The scream was loud and high, ending in a choked sob as Gravity released the pressure. "The pony will do it, leave us," Vanca said, voice shaking. That was enough to jolt the mare from her stunned immobility, and she wheeled and galloped through the doorway, Agent Salrath held above her back. Outside there was shouting and the sounds of hooves and paws, and the raised voices of Masters suddenly discovering that if a pony thinks your life is in danger, there is no order in the world that will make it let you pass.

Then the tone of the Master's voices changed, joined by one that seemed more authoritative. This seemed to cause even more shouting, terminated only by a hissing screech that sent shivers down Gravity's spine. Gryphon, she thought, starting to panic, is Security here already? Her thoughts went back to the teleport spell that stubbornly refused to yield to her comprehension. I need more time!

It doesn't sound like more than one or two, Fusion said, might be just the local police.

Gravity swept the surroundings with her shadow sight; the corridor immediately outside the door was clear, but further along there was a cluster of ponies, a single winged creature without a horn, and a small group of Masters, one of whom was carrying a large amount of crystal thaumic equipment. You are right, just one Master, but any member of the emergency services will be able to override a pony's protective instincts, she thought back. What should I do if they come in? I could block the door, but they might just order the ponies to open it again.

You must take this Master out of the equation, Fusion said, you need time to get to grips with this spell. This is the only way.

Gravity whinnied quietly in distress. Salrath and Vanca are one thing, I don't think I can do anything to a Master I don't know. None of this is their fault, she thought.

It's not our fault either. Look at it this way; if we can't get away clean we'll have to fight our way out, and the longer we wait, the more ponies will suffer because of it. The only other choice is to surrender, and you know how that ends.

Gravity glanced involuntarily at the bulk of the autosurgeon and started to feel sick. "I-I think I understand what you meant about euthanizing yourself. Every choice leads to suffering for somepony."

Yes, Fusion said softly, I wish I could do more to help you decide, but all I can say is that I want to live and I want to be free, and I want that for everypony else too. You don't have to hurt the Masters any more, just hold them, use them to slow down Security's response. If it helps, think of all those names carved on the walls of the Church, then about how many are still alive today.

===

Fusion watched through Gravity's eyes as the gryphon came through the door, a low blur of feathers and fur with all the explosive speed of a big cat on the hunt, sweeping the room for any sign of a threat. He halted, confusion on his face as he saw Gravity standing in the centre of the room, a pair of obviously frightened Masters huddled against one wall behind her.

For a moment the confusion puzzled her, but it did make a kind of sense. They don't believe it's possible, she thought, they have that much faith in the Blessing, and it's not like Salrath would have been still in the corridor when they arrived. All those gigaseconds of compliant servitude will make them hesitate, but as soon as they realise the truth... 

Fusion's imagination, already prone to flights to the darker side, supplied her with a nightmare vision of the future. No longer just her friends and family, but entire corrals ordered to report for euthanization, the instructions rippling out through the communicators everypony wore at all times. Those that resisted the call brought to their knees by the Blessing, paralyzed by fugue or stumbling to the nearest infirmary to await a medic to take away their pain forever. Those last medics, alone and surrounded by the bodies of the friends and family they'd just slaughtered, gladly following their final orders and welcoming the needle as an escape from the horror. 

Dimly she could feel her body responding to the panic, heart thundering and breath coming in gasps, and she made a conscious effort to rationalise away the more excessive elements of her fantasy. Stupid mare! Such wholesale slaughter would cripple the Hive. Still, if her vaguely planned rebellion took hold...

Back in the real world, Gravity had moved her head slightly, gaze flicking between the door and the gryphon, who was just transferring his gun from beak to foreclaws. The weapon appeared to be a much lighter version of the one carried by Salrath's gryphon, without the bell-shaped crystal muzzle or the thick belt linking it to ammunition panniers. For a moment she dipped into shadow sight, spotting the tell-tale bipedal silhouette of a Master crouching just outside the door. It was hard to see, partially obscured by the swirling mass of magical energy occupying the volume in front of Gravity. Fusion didn't know the spell, but recognised telekinetic-like elements before her sister went back to normal vision. 

The gryphon must have made some silent signal, because the Master chose that moment to enter the room. The message was obviously some kind of all clear, as the Master -- a tall individual with mid-brown fur and a chest made oversize by a bulky equipment vest -- strode into the room as if he owned it. 

"The servitor will cease any magical activity immediately," he said, only sparing Gravity a brief glance before striding towards Vanca and Korn, who were still huddled against one wall. "What happened here?" he said, addressing the two Masters directly.

Fusion could feel Gravity's anger building, starting to override the fear; whatever they'd expected, it wasn't to just be ignored. Stay calm, sister, she said, trying to project a sense of amusement. They have a blind spot where ponies are involved; look how he didn't even check to see that you complied. She felt her sisters face twitch with a reluctant grin.

I don't think he’ll be fooled for long -- and it's obvious the gryphon doesn't share his trusting nature, Gravity thought back, eyeing the suspicious glare the half bird was giving her. He still had his gun trained on them, one set of talons wrapped around the trigger bar. 

"This one said, what hap--" the officer broke off, finally noticing the expressions of wide-eyed horror Vanca and Korn were giving him.

"I did," Gravity said quietly, folding her magic around the police officer and dragging him into the air. He yelled in surprise, trying to bring his gun around, but finding his arms immobilised. The magic closed over his head and he went silent. There was a shocked intake of breath from the gryphon, but the creature had obviously been ready for something, as he darted sideways, gun roaring into life.

Fusion was treated to the muzzle flash of the weapon, as seen from directly in line with the business end, and flinched, instincts making her want to leap away. There was no pain, no sudden hammer blow impacts. Instead the projectiles curved off in random directions, striking sparks from the ceiling, walls and floor in a wide circle behind Gravity. The noise was shockingly loud, dying abruptly as violet magic turned the gun's receiver into mangled metal.

"I'm sorry," Gravity said, "but I need to make them understand. Tell your Masters to leave us alone." The mare flicked one of her rocks at the gryphon, slamming it into the floor between his forelegs. 

The concrete cube hit with enough force to make it shatter, rock fragments and splinters of metal reinforcing bar exploding out in all directions. The blast struck him across the chest, throat and belly with the force of a grenade, flicking him up and backwards into the wall amid a wave of dust and powdered rock. There was a moment of stunned silence, broken only by the sound of gravel bouncing on the floor.

Gravity took an uncertain step towards the twitching gryphon. Too hard! she thought, did I just-- With a strangled screech the gryphon staggered upright. He'd been saved from death by his armour, but was bleeding from multiple cuts and lacerations. He risked one terrified glance at Gravity, only to see her levitate more rocks, then ran for the exit. 

The mare let him get a few paces then chased him out of the room with a series of projectiles, the impact explosions nipping at his heels until the final blast almost threw him through the door. With a final snap of magic, she sealed the opening with a force field, cutting off the shocked cries from the corridor. Gravity stared after the gryphon, watching shapes move behind the arcane barrier. "He would have killed me without hesitation, so why does it feel like I just kicked a foal?"

Keep a hold of that thought, Fusion said, their chains are different, but I believe they are just as much slaves as we are. Gryphons deserve our pity; it's the Masters we should hate.

Gravity turned her attention to the police officer, still hanging immobile in her telekinetic field. A quick flick of her magic and he was swiftly divested of his weapon and equipment vest, all of which were dumped down the hole in the floor. His eyes were wide and angry, jaw muscles bunched as if he was trying to say something against the band of force holding his muzzle shut.

"What is your name?" she said, relaxing her grip on his mouth.

"Release this one immediately, or you will be euthanized," he spat.

No concern for his gryphon at all, Gravity thought, muzzle twisting in disgust. You just made this a lot easier. She spun the Master end over end and gave him a hard shake. "You were right; they do have a hard time adjusting." She held the officer still and scowled at him. "What is your name, Master?" she said, putting as much derision into her voice as she could. "You are at my mercy, and I don't have much for your kind at the moment."

"T-this one is Officer Lagorth," he gasped, looking like he was fighting the urge to throw up. "Why is the pony doing this?" 

"Because I want to live," Gravity said shortly, dropping him next to Vanca and Korn. "If you move more than two paces from that spot I will break your legs. Feel free to ask the Academician if she thinks I will do it." This time her voice didn't tremble as she made the threat.

Lagorth took one look at the wide-eyed Vanca and how she was holding her arm and wisely said nothing. Korn shifted slightly and hesitantly raised one paw. "Can this one be allowed to tend Vanca’s... injury? She will be more use to you alive. Korn thinks she may be going into shock," he said.

Fusion stirred inside Gravity's head. You need to get back to work on the teleportation spell, she said, it won't be long before Security gets here, and I don't know what they will do. If the first thing they do is use a suppressor--

"You think I don't know that!" Gravity shouted out loud, "I can't get the thing to work; it's too far from my specialty." Seeing Korn's nervous stare, she threw the emergency kit at his paws. "What are you looking at? Get to work!" she snarled.

Calm, sister, calm, Fusion said, her heart sinking. Gravity was right; the spell was nothing like the ordered and modular things she'd been taught. Every pony approached magic in a slightly different way, and even those spells required a certain amount of customisation for an individual's magic. This spell is like it has been designed specifically for me, it's no wonder you're having so much trouble. If you need more time, we'll have to think of an alternative. 

How can you be so calm! Gravity's thoughts were in turmoil, and she paced the lab with short, angry strides.

I've lived with this for a whole megasecond. Not long, but I've had time to come to terms with it. That's not the main reason, though. I've got you with me now.

I hardly think that I deserve this confidence! Gravity thought.

Sorry, Fusion thought, but we are better off than before. There are two of us now, or at least there will be. We need to get you some peace to practice, get somewhere a little protected... Fusion trailed off, deep in thought.

You know this place better than I, but where could we go that a suppressor can't reach? Gravity thought back, frustration turning to despair. No, we should leave now, before they have time to marshal a real force against us. It's a shame we wasted time on this teleportation enchantment. You could have been teaching me the trick to burning out all the crystals; at least we know that one works.

Violet radiance gathered over Fusion's body and she felt herself lift off the floor. Through their shared senses, she watched Gravity start to sweep the floors above for the best route to the surface, her horn glowing bright enough to cast hard edged shadows as she prepared to rip the ceiling apart.

Had she been able to move, Fusion would have gasped. That's it! she said. Gravity, you are a genius. This site is on another of the accelerator's beam lines -- it's got a thaumically shielded chamber.

How sure are you about that? I don't know anything about how those suppressors work, Gravity thought, holding back her magic, but not letting the spells fade. She closed her eyes, casting her shadow sight downwards, hunting for the room her sister was talking about. There it was; down in the deeper levels, a cube of crystals seemingly stuck on the end of a rod of solid light. But I could see you when you were in the other one, before you destroyed it.

Fusion hesitated, suddenly uncertain. I think so; shadow sight is very basic, hardly a spell at all. The suppressor's effect will be much more complex, and I know that the shielding is designed to work against just about everything. It makes sense to me, but I do know someone who would know for sure.

Gravity swung her head around to stare thoughtfully at Vanca. "I think I do too. A word, if I may, Academician," she said, gently picking the Master up.

Vanca, who appeared to have calmed down a little after Korn had been allowed to help her, moaned in distress as the telekinetic field took hold, shrinking back in an effort to get as far away from Gravity as she could. Korn also stood up and edged closer. "This one didn't help the Academician just so the pony could torture her," he said, trying to move between Vanca and Gravity.

The mare rolled her eyes and pushed Korn to one side. He might be useful, Fusion said, I can normally tell when he's lying. 

"All I want to do is talk, it's up to Vanca how the conversation goes," Gravity said, giving the Academician a gentle squeeze.

"What does the serv-- pony w-want?" Vanca said, struggling to get the words out past her frantic panting.

"Will the beamline chamber shield us from the effects of a thaumic suppressor?"

Vanca’s mouth opened, but it was Lagorth that answered. "Say nothi--" he said, then started to scrabble at his muzzle, clawing at the band of violet light that was keeping it closed. Gravity didn't say anything, just continued to look at Vanca.

The Academician gave a little whimper and stared at Lagorth, whose eyes were starting to bulge. "It will, the shielding is designed to inhibit arcane influences within the boundary layer, without affecting a spell caster within the room. The pony may notice some effect, but it should be minimal." Her tone was distant and had a lecturing quality, as if she was running on autopilot while most of her attention was focused on the struggling police officer.

"What do you mean, 'should?' " Gravity said, leaning closer.

"Vanca means will, will be minimal," the Academician said quickly. 

Fusion was watching the officer in Gravity's peripheral vision while her sister was focused on Vanca. Lagorth's legs were starting to kick as if he was trying to run away, but nothing he did made the slightest difference to the position Gravity was holding his head. Sister, she said tentatively, I think you have closed his nostrils. He looks like he is suffocating.

Gravity's eyes flicked to the officer's face, her ears flattening when she saw his desperate expression. Maybe it's for the best, she thought, in a tone that grew in determination. The other two must understand that I'm serious. The more I do now, the less chance I'll have to do something worse later. "Student Korn, do you agree with Vanca's assessment?"

"Yes! Yes! Please let Lagorth go," Korn cried.

Well, Fusion, you've worked with them, what do you think, considering what's at stake? Gravity thought, staring hard enough at Vanca to make her tremble. 

He's telling the truth, Fusion said, we should get moving. I don't want to be here when Security arrives. Fusion's view bounced as Gravity nodded vigorously. Off to one side the police officer suddenly collapsed, gasping and coughing as the blue mare let go of his muzzle. The mare then lowered her head and swept the levels below them for any activity. There were a few moving points of colour, small and scurrying, marking out the few Masters not yet evacuated, each shepherded by a pony. She felt Gravity form the necessary patterns in her mind.

"Then let's do this," the blue mare said, fanning her wings and hovering in the air above the hole in the floor. Violet horn light cast hard edged and distorted shadows as Gravity reached out and widened the hole she'd created.

Tugged along like a string of party balloons, Fusion and the three Masters followed her.

> 26 - ...after the horse has barricaded itself inside
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist


=== Chapter 26 (remastered): ...after the horse has barricaded itself inside ===


The Institute facility was now under the complete control of its resident servitors. These ponies, all medical research subjects now the accelerator was out of action and all the techs had been reassigned, had rapidly cleared the facility of Masters. Shouts, curses, entreaties and threats were all ignored; those who didn't move rapidly enough for the ponies escorting them were lifted bodily and floated at a full gallop to the muster station near the upper level transit hub.

The only remaining Master was the site safety manager -- a slightly overweight but heavily built individual by the name of Orch -- who they'd reluctantly allowed to stay at one of the doors to the surface shaft. There he'd remained, directing operations within the Institute as best he could, prevented from physically interfering by a pair of ponies ready to evacuate him in an instant if the mad mare came in this direction. Orch had long since stopped trying to convince the ponies to let him pass and instead paced the bottom of the shaft under the watchful eyes of his guardians, waiting for Security to arrive.

A few levels further down, Lilac studied the activity in the medical lab through his shadow sight, trying to identify the spells the blue mare was using. There was the familiar haze of telekinesis and the glowing threads that connected the pony to her force field, but alongside that was something more subtle, something delicate and complex that wove itself between the two ponies. 

The stallion started to cast out his own magic, treating this like it was yet another session with his head clamped into one of the lab's machines, delicately picking apart some experimental enchantment without disrupting it. There was a faint whisper of sound and his ears twitched and swivelled, hunting for the source. It was a matter of moments before he realised that the noise was speech and that it pulsed and varied in time with his own efforts to understand the magic being used. It's like a clairvoyance signal, he thought, if I just...

The little voice at the centre of his head grew stronger and abruptly became perfectly clear. He listened, mystified at most of the subject matter, but catching the anger in one voice and the worry in a second. There was a feeling of urgency and questions about the beam chamber. Involuntarily, he focused his shadow sight downwards, staring at the glowing cube at the bottom of the Institute facility. Then the little voice disappeared and was replaced by a surge of telekinesis magic; looking back at the lab he could see the mare had dropped into the dark tunnel she'd created, the other pony and the Masters in tow.

"They're leaving the lab," announced the peach stallion, "thank the Maker the lower levels are clear. Now where the hay do they think they are going?"

Lilac opened his mouth to answer, but thought better of it. The blue mare is going to be in a lot of trouble. She's scared, but I know she likes me. If I can convince her to just talk to Security when they arrive, she'll realise she's made a mistake in trying to rescue her friend, and we can sort all this out. Somewhere deep inside he remembered how he'd felt those first few megaseconds after he'd been selected to help the Master's research. I wish somepony had come for me, he thought, then winced at a sudden spike of pain that made the breath hiss through his teeth. 

"I'm going to check the lower levels again," Lilac announced, receiving a distracted grunt of acknowledgement from the peach stallion, obviously still focused on his own shadow sight view. He hesitated, staring nervously at the other pony, then, receiving no command to the contrary, wheeled and cantered down the spiral access ramp.

At the bottom of the ramp Lilac trotted down the corridor, paying more attention to his shadow sight than normal vision. Deft touches of telekinesis stopped him from bouncing off the walls, but he'd already slowed from his earlier headlong gallop, after tripping over an equipment trolley that had been abandoned in the middle of the walkway.

The sharp metal edge had scored a long, bloody scratch down one flank, but the pain was subsumed by the excitement of the chase and the urgency of his self-imposed mission. High over head, but getting closer every second, was the bright flare of the blue mare, her shape outlined by a complex and shifting pattern of magic. Lilac could see the perfect spheres of force fields flickering briefly in front of her, boiling and churning like foam, the magic changing to a powerful and pervasive telekinesis that ran along her flanks and lined the walls of the tunnel she was carving.

Finally he reached his target, the main equipment corridor leading up to the chamber. Turning to face her approach, Lilac stared up into the approaching maelstrom of magic, already the brightest thing in the shadow universe. He could actually hear it now; the high pitched, atonal warble of force fields being formed and collapsed, overlain with a bass rumble and the noise of heavy objects being crushed.

In the dim emergency lighting, Lilac opened his real eyes and looked up at the ceiling. The floor was vibrating now, little runnels of dust sifting down from where the dead light fittings joined the concrete slab ceiling. Soon, he thought, his excitement building. Almost directly overhead a perfect half dome of violet light flashed into being for an instant, then vanished to be replaced by another and another, so fast that his eyes couldn't keep up with them. 

Above him the ceiling dissolved in a roar of light and sound.

===

Unlike the streamlined arrow head of a Military attack carrier, the Security dropship was a blunt cone designed to get into dangerous places as fast as possible. It sacrificed stealth and endurance for armour and a speed that could match an air superiority fighter, at least over short distances. With a booster system it could carry out a ballistic insertion across half a continent, yet was still compact enough to fit down any tunnel big enough for two lanes of traffic.

They didn't do that very often, though, as it was very hard on any vehicle coming the other way.

This time the fastest route was a short, low level dash to the Institute's entrance shaft, followed by immediate deployment from the big cargo dock at the very bottom. Rthar lay in his armour suit, reading the latest intelligence updates while listening to the whispered readiness reports of the rest of his strike team and their associated support animals. The clamps holding him to the wall panel gave a groan as the dropship deployed its aerobrakes and thrust diverters to drop from near Mach two to a landing configuration in less than twenty seconds; the forces pulled the blood to his head and made him wrinkle his muzzle in an effort not to sneeze. Another pawfull of seconds was consumed by queasy shifts in down, before the welcome jolt of landing.

"Maker-damned dropship pilots are all mad," Rthar muttered, staggering upright as the clamps released his suit. For a moment he almost envied the servitors in their gimballed, padded cocoons. Deployment patterns bloomed on his HUD's inset map display; the two gryphon squads splitting into fireteams of three and moving to secure the area. One team went aloft, circling the entrance shaft to provide overwatch, while the other three took position around the dropship and at the exits to the bay.

"Area secure, Sir," said the sersjant from her position in fireteam one. "One civilian and two servitors."

"Acknowledged. Hold position." Rthar gave the signal to the rest of his team, and they all fanned out from the dropship to get the rest of the operation underway. Rthar strode over to where one of the People was cowering on the floor, paws over his head and trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. "Carry on, sersjant," he said to the gryphon NCO, currently covering the frightened member of the Master race with her smartgun.

"Sir," she said, snapping her beak in salute and trotting off to rejoin her fireteam, currently clearing one of the entrance points.

Rthar reached down and used his suit's scanner to interrogate the civilian's comms bracer, using its biometric interface to verify his identity. "This one offers his apologies, Safety Manager Orch. Standard procedure is to restrain all civilians until they can be identified." The other SOP was anonymity for Security's operatives, so Rthar kept his visor opaqued, ignoring Orch's stammered acceptance of his rote phrase. "Are any of the People left inside the facility, and where is the Agent?"

Orch cleared his throat. "With the exception of the hostages, no. All the staff are at the muster station, have been ever since the alarms went off." Here Orch's voice took on a disbelieving tone. "Our own servitors evacuated us and they won't let us back in, not even our own 'seek and search' teams; they keep saying it's too dangerous."

"It sounds like the servitors are smarter than Orch is. The Agent, Safety Manager Orch. Where is the Agent?"

"Agent... Salrath, was it?" he said, pausing until Rthar made an impatient gesture. "Salrath is en route to the nearest emergency centre, this one thought it would be quicker if she was sent with two of our more mobile servitors--"

"So, after she was apparently assaulted by one of Orch's experimental subjects, Orch left her in the care of two other ponies, who had also been experimented upon?"

Orch sagged under Rthar's sarcasm, the disproval obvious even through the suit's speaker and its deliberate distortion. "There was little choice, without constant medical intervention by our in-house medic, she wouldn't have made it, and the centre is only a few hundred seconds flight time away." Orch rubbed his paws nervously. "This one apologises if he made the wrong decision, but--"

Rthar made a cutting gesture. "Your actions will be reviewed later." He switched back to the internal comms circuit. "Sersjant, escort the Safety Manager to the blockade group at the upper transit hub."

"Yessir," came the reply, then the gryphoness trotted forward, extending one wing to firmly push Orch in the right direction. "This way, Master, we'll see you to a safe place." The words were polite, but the tone brooked no argument, coming from a soldier used to getting her way with the aggressive and independent recruits of her own species.

Orch flinched back from the touch; the gryphoness probably outweighed him by a factor of three, as well as having the build of an apex predator in its prime. "B-but there's a lot of delicate thaumic hardware here, this one can't have a repeat of what happened at the other site," he said, trying to stand his ground against the sersjant's rapidly strengthening push.

Rthar watched the unequal contest for a second, wondering how long it would be before his sersjant lost her patience. "Don't worry, Security won't let that happen," he said, waving one armoured paw over his shoulder to where the small herd of servitors were finally coming down the dropship's ramp. Huh, they're probably the most valuable part of this mission, Rthar thought, there's a first time for everything. At least we're allowed to armour them. Their stated job was the suppression of any civilian ponies or disarming crystal thaumic booby-traps, but they also had a more prosaic purpose -- pack animals.

Each pony was laden down with the seemingly endless amount of gear even quick operations needed; packed among the spine and slung beneath the belly, over hips and withers, slung around necks. Only their midsections were kept free of equipment, and then only to allow them to fly. Under the packs, from bug-eyed helmet to high traction rubber horseshoes, each servitor was covered fullerene ceramic scales. Their wings were hidden behind curved plates of the same material, able to be opened at a moment's notice.

For a moment Rthar wondered what it would be like if he could actually use them offensively, then dismissed the idea. The World Court's rules on servitors were almost as arcane and complex as the creatures themselves, but it boiled down to 'no military use' -- and the Court treated People who tried to subvert the rules extremely harshly. He grinned wolfishly inside his helmet; of course Security wasn't technically part of the Hive's external defences, so they could get away with rather more. 

"Shouldn't this one stay, just in case there are any issues?" Orch said plaintively.

Rthar has wasted too much time on Orch already, the Captain thought. "No. These ones are behind schedule. The sersjant will carry out her orders."

"Yessir," the gryphoness said, then lunged forward to wrap one set of talons around Orch's upper arm, pulling him across the landing bay at an uneven trot. Even though she was only on three legs, the Master still had trouble keeping up. Not that she gave him much choice.

Rthar watched his sersjant go, grinning at the Safety Manager's complaints, clearly audible even over the dropship's idling engines. Turning back, he surveyed the organised chaos of the teams assembling themselves for entering the Institute, nodding in satisfaction.

Time to go to work.

===

Gravity dropped down her original tunnel and aligned herself with the glowing cube of the beamline chamber. "This is going to get loud," she announced, looking over her shoulder and relaxing her grip on the Master's arms so they could cover their ears. None of them did, just looked back at her with a mixture of fear and confusion. She shrugged and gently shut Fusion's eyes and folded her ears flat, keeping them closed with a light touch of telekinesis. And dusty, she thought, conjuring up a small scale version of the same spell she'd used to deflect bullets.

Around her were the gutted remains of an office area; desks, chairs and storage units smashed and thrown against the outer walls of the space, others crushed into mangled piles of wreckage that she'd forced into any openings in the room. Gravity switched back to normal vision, contemplating the ruin while she hovered over the dark pit she'd excavated on her way up. Most of her route had been near vertical; this time, as well as descending half a dozen floors, she needed to skip sideways almost a hundred lengths.

The blue mare shook herself and laughed quietly. As if this property damage would matter if they caught up with her. They can only kill me once, she thought, gathering her strength. She took a moment to organise the magic flow in her head; this would take some good timing if she wasn't going to bring the structure down on top of herself. Slowly at first, then with ever greater speed, Gravity started to work. Make a force field there, grab the sharp edged fragments with her telekinesis and shunt them around her body to wedge them in the hole behind her. Repeat, then repeat again, faster and faster, the bell-like sound of each field merging into a rising warble, almost drowned out by the noise of concrete and metal being smashed into the excavated volume as she moved forwards.

Gravity started to accelerate, the choreography of energy and mass as smooth as a well designed machine. Every sense except her shadow sight was useless, so she flew with her eyes shut at the calm centre of a maelstrom of activity. For the first time since her... awakening, she started to feel a hint that her new power might have limits; a light sweat began to run under her fur, just like she was going for a gallop.

Within a few seconds she was moving as fast as a pony could trot, cutting through light partition walls and heavy, load bearing floors like they were made of the same stuff. Gravity moved like a high velocity bullet through flesh; a temporary cavity surrounded by a travelling zone of destruction, leaving shredded matter in her wake. Although each spell was simple, she was casting them many times every second, leaving no time for much in the way of actual thinking. Gravity very quickly entered an almost trance-like state, her whole being reduced to an arcane machine.

Thus it was Fusion, still looking out through Gravity's senses, who saw the faint shape of horn and wing through the chaotic mass of magic busy slicing through the steel and concrete in front of them. Stop! she cried inside her sister's head, traces of panic leaking back along the sharing link.

Gravity came to her senses immediately, freezing all of her active magic and carefully pulling away the last of the ceiling so she could fit into the corridor. The other pony just stood there, nervously shifting his weight from hoof to hoof. "Lilac?" the mare said. "What are you doing here? I told the ponies topside that we weren't to be followed." Gravity pulled a dazed looking Vanca forward, giving her a slight squeeze to attract her attention. "Didn't you hear the Master's instructions that we were to be left alone?" 

"No, please, no more," Vanca moaned, trembling in Gravity's grasp, then gasped as the mare gave her a warning shake. "T-the servitor is correct, this one gave orders that we were not to be disturbed," she said weakly.

Lilac blinked, tearing his eyes away from Gravity's gently flowing mane, then gasped in pain as Vanca's words sank in. He fell to his knees, wings coming up to cover his head. "Forgive me, Master," he said miserably, "I wasn't told."

Gravity cleared her throat and Vanca twitched. "The pony is forgiven; this is not its fault," she said quickly.

The young stallion climbed to his hooves, breathing heavily. "Thank you, Master." He looked at Gravity, then back at the little group she was still holding with her magic. "Master," he said tentatively, "I think you are injured, do you need any help?"

===

Fusion looked out through Gravity's eyes at the pony her sister had called 'Lilac'. 

What are we going to do with him? Gravity thought.

The words seemed to jump out of the general stream of emotions and half vocalised internal dialogue that was like a dull white noise to Fusion. Every so often something would get 'loud' enough to hear, even when her sister wasn't deliberately sending thoughts her way, but that was rare and limited to the strongest emotions. With her view of Lilac came little flashes of Gravity's memories; horror and a blurred image of the young pony's face, the only thing in focus the layers of ridged scar tissue on the side of his head, and guilt with a vision of Lilac falling to the ground, his magic failing under Gravity's onslaught. 

Fusion remembered what her own head had looked like from the little glances Gravity had cast in her direction. Would this have been me in a few megaseconds, or would they have just kept cutting until there was nothing left? she thought, keeping that to herself for fear of distracting Gravity with more guilt. She heard Lilac ask another question, but didn't catch the words.

We can't leave him here; even without the extra suspicion he'll be under, his future looks bleak, she said to Gravity.

Certainty flowed through Gravity's mind, decisions solidifying as Fusion watched. Show me how to break the Blessing as soon as we have a moment spare, she thought, I'll control him until we can trust him. The mare smiled down at Lilac and opened her mouth, but it was Korn who replied first.

"There was an accident," he said, glancing sidelong at Vanca, whose mouth was opening and shutting like a fish gasping for air. "This pony has been helping these ones to avoid any further harm." Vanca looked relieved, nodding vigorously. Officer Largorth glared at Korn, but didn't say anything.

"I knew that you must have had a good reason to do all that!" Lilac said happily, then looked uncertainly at Gravity and Korn. "But what about the gryphons, what did they do that was so bad?"

Well, it's nearly true, the mare thought, then had a flash of inspiration. "Master, with your permission, I think this pony needs to know the truth," she said, looking hard at Korn, who waved his paw in a vague 'go ahead' manner. Gravity nodded at Lilac, letting her ears droop. "The Master just wants to protect you, but the truth is that we think they might be agents of another Hive. Somehow they've found out that my Master has discovered how to make ponies even stronger, and they want to steal the secret and kill us all." There was a choking noise from the police officer, but he fell silent at a glance from Gravity. Korn just nodded in response, looking unhappy.

Lilac's ears folded flat and his mouth moved like he was muttering something under his breath, then his gaze went to Largorth. "So is he not one of our Masters?" he said slowly, brow furrowed in concentration.

A ghost of a smile twitched Gravity's lips. "You are a very smart pony, Lilac. Yes, we need to keep him safe until our own Masters rescue us, but it's very important you don't listen to him if he asks you to do anything to stop me."

"I don't really understand what is going on, but is there anything I can do to help?"

"Yes, there is," Gravity said, trying to give the stallion a convincing smile while stepping forward and gesturing for him to start walking. 

"What is it?" he said, nearly tripping up in his eagerness to keep the blue mare in sight while trotting down the corridor. "And I don't know your names."

"I'm Gravity, this is Fusion. We're very pleased to meet you, Lilac. Stay with me, I'll have something for you when we get where we are going." Gravity accelerated to a canter, forcing Lilac into a full gallop, his clipped wings making little flapping motions in an unconscious desire for flight. At this speed it was only a matter of seconds before the disparate group arrived at the end of the corridor and the door to the beam chamber. 

"Here we are." Gravity eyed the door. The thing was massive; a heavy-looking curved plate that filled the whole end of the corridor. Is this it? How do we get it open? she thought at Fusion.

I think it opens under remote control. It's like a big cylinder, it will rotate on the vertical axis. It would be best if you can keep it intact, I don't know how important it is to have the shielding complete if they turn on the suppressor. Turn it to the right, I think, at least ninety degrees.

Gravity reached out, trying to grip the door with her magic, but found the surface slick and somehow resistant to her efforts. "At least we know the shielding works," she said. "I need to poke a hole in it." More out of curiosity than any real hope, the mare tried to cut the door with a force field, only to receive a blinding flash of pain that made her legs wobble. "Definitely works," she grumbled, quickly trotting back to the tunnel she'd dug and removing a twisted length of steel reinforcing beam half as long as she was. Two quick force field cuts and some telekinesis later, she was ready.

Lilac, who'd been watching this with wide eyes, suddenly realised what was about to happen and took a few steps backward. Gravity nodded approvingly at him, hefting the now sharply pointed bar. "Eyes and ears, everypony," she called out with a grin, conjuring a force field wall as a shield, then thrust her improvised battering ram forward as hard as she could.

The bar vanished and the floor jumped under Gravity's hooves, the deafening crack of impact deadened by the force field. The door disappeared behind an explosion of dust and concrete fragments, blasting back down the corridor and filling the space in front of the violet field wall with an impenetrable haze. Gravity switched to magic sight, pulling back the bar and jabbing at the door again, pushing it deep into the fractured outer layers and disrupting the carefully designed array of magically active gems and crystals. A section of the door went dark, so the mare reached out again, this time able to get a good grip. 

Something moaned with metallic distress, the sound rising to a muffled scream, then the door started to move, reluctantly revolving with a great deal of vibration. The opening arch came into view just as the damaged section was disappearing and Gravity used that to pull the cylinder around the rest of the way. She floated the Masters and Fusion into the radiation lock's interior, then took one look back down the devastated corridor. "No point in making life easy for them," she muttered, cutting the walls with short-lived force field bubbles and packing the resultant wreckage into the space in front of the door. 

As she dragged the drum around again, aligning the opening with the beamline chamber on the other side, Gravity took one last look back the way she'd come. It was all perfect edges and points, every one sharper than a razor or a needle and glittering under the violet glow of her horn light, the mirrored surfaces making it look like the corridor had been packed with broken glass.

===

Gravity trotted into the almost dark beamline chamber, looking around at the hulking machinery hanging off the ceiling and walls. Everything was arranged in concentric circles around a central platform, currently occupied by a complex and delicate looking mechanism that was all fine coils of silvery wire and blood red crystals.

You'll need to block off the control room, that's the other entrance, Fusion said at the back of Gravity's head. Behind that line of windows. There are some big armoured shutters that slide over the windows; use them.

Gravity grunted a reply, staring thoughtfully at the Masters. "Lilac," she said, "can you look after my sister please? I need somepony responsible to take care of her while I do something else, and until we get things sorted out and get rescued."

The stallion, who had been wandering between the arrays of machines, trotted back to the mare's side. "I can. It's a shame her experiment was interrupted before the surgeon put her back together -- do you want me to help her heal?" Seeing Gravity's hesitant look, he twisted slightly to show her the old scars on the side of his head. "I've done it plenty of times on myself; my Masters had me learn so they could do their experiments more frequently."

Gravity's heart lurched and she fought to hold back the tears. "That would be very kind. My sister and I would really appreciate that," she said in a choked voice, watching as Lilac sat down next to Fusion, his horn starting to glow.

"I'm glad to help, science is very important. Will your sister be doing any more experiments soon?"

"No, I don't think so," Gravity said, ears folding flat at the trace of jealousy in Lilac's voice. She walked over to where the Masters were huddled against the wall, staring down at them. Are you okay with that? she thought to Fusion, slightly concerned about her sister's silence.

Yes, of course. If his healing magic is anything like Spiral's, then it will need all his concentration. It will keep him occupied.

I'll talk with the Masters, make sure they don't try to take advantage of him, she thought, lowering her head to study each Master in turn. Vanca seemed to have retreated from the world, her eyes looking anywhere but back at the mare. Korn was almost calm, meeting her gaze briefly, then casting his eyes downwards. The Officer... This one might still do something stupid, Gravity thought, as Largorth stared at her, lips peeled slightly back to show his teeth. She narrowed her eyes, then started to whisper, voice made harsh with anger. "You will not order that pony to do anything. If he talks to you, you will tell him to leave you alone. He cannot stop me... and if I have to knock him out, I'll- I'll--" She broke off, breathing hard.

"This one saw you in the lab, he understands," Korn said, "these ones won't do anything." He turned to the Officer. "This servitor is the strongest Korn has ever seen, and she has no obedience conditioning at all. If Largorth wants to get out of this alive, he will do exactly as she says."

Largorth sneered at Korn. "This one will not take orders from a servitor--" he started, then went silent with a strained choking sound as a band of force contracted around his throat.

"I have no more time to waste on any of you," Gravity said in a fierce whisper, shoving him back against the wall, and banging his head in time with the words. "Do not test me!" The violet light faded and Largorth slumped, one paw coming up to massage his neck.

“This one underst--,” he said, then started to cough. Seeing Gravity’s narrowed eyes, Largorth’s ears flattened and he shrank away from her continued scrutiny, only relaxing when the mare finally snorted and stepped away.

When she was sure none of the Masters could see her face, Gravity took a deep breath and clenched her jaws in an effort to stop her teeth from chattering. This is only going to get worse, I can’t see any way out of this, she thought to Fusion, crouching down and flaring her wings. One jump and she was hovering next to the long window, horn glowing as she probed the retracted shutters.

Yes, Fusion said, it will get worse. The Masters won’t let us go easily -- I had wanted to try and free as many ponies as possible in secret before going against them, but that’s not an option now.

Tears welled up in Gravity’s eyes, but had no effect on the clarity of her shadow sight. I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I? Giving up any pretence of subtlety, the mare pulled the shutters off the wall by their non-shielded frames, then cut a hole in the glass and pushed them through. Flicking her wings, she glided into the control deck, using more magic to rip the consoles and desks off the floor and push them against the walls.

Fusion's silence was worse than being kicked in the chest, and the blue mare felt the tears run down the sides of her muzzle and dampen the fur on her neck. She bit her lip, walking unsteadily to the room's exit. Say something, sister, even if it's just to tell me what a foal I've been, she thought, very nearly turning back to rush to Fusion's side. She wanted more than anything to worm her way under that white wing like she had when she was a filly, to bask in her sister's love and be told that everything was going to be okay. Heart breaking as the silence lengthened, she busied herself collecting the heavy metal frame from the windows and cutting it into bars. 

I've lost you, she thought in the deepest part of her mind, protected from the sharing spell. My stupidity and blindness nearly got you killed and I've lost you.

No, I don't think so, Fusion said, almost as if she'd heard Gravity's private thoughts. Her mental voice was slow and faint, like a pony puzzling through a difficult problem. Something like this would have happened sooner rather than later; I hadn't quite understood how strong a hold the Blessing has on a pony's thoughts. I should have been easier on you, but I had just come back from seeing what they were doing to Random, and-- Fusion broke off, her voice becoming firmer. --I was afraid she wouldn't last much longer. I didn't think what it would do to you.

But I should have at least listened, instead I--, the metal bar she was cutting fell to the floor with a clang as her magic flickered. The memory surged up, as clear as anything in her life. That look of surprise on Fusion's face as the magic struck, the way her body seemed to fold up as it was thrown into the trees.

I'll admit, I could have done without that, Fusion broke in, a wry amusement colouring her thoughts, but I'll forgive you, on one condition. 

Eyes still closed, the mare fumbled for the bar with her magic, the ache in her chest easing slightly. "Anything," she said out loud, "I'll do anything to make this up to you." The hope filled her with as much fear as anything else she'd experienced this day.

Fusion's mental voice became tentative. ...if you'll forgive me for putting you in this terrible situation?

Gravity sniffed loudly, smiling into the violet tinged darkness. It's a deal, but I want you to show me everything you've been through.

I promise, Fusion said solemnly, as soon as we get out of here.

Gravity's smile turned sad, and she stacked the final bar with the rest. Yes, as soon as we have a moment of peace.

A quick probe of the door mechanism found the manual override, and within moments she had the door open. The corridor beyond was dark apart from the scattered emergency lights; a dip into shadow sight showed nothing moving on this level, but higher up... A dark bulk had landed in the Institute's surface access shaft, occupying most of the cargo bay at the very bottom. Little clusters of light moved from it, only really made visible at this distance by the purple polygons that surrounded them. Many of the lights came in pairs, showing the characteristic golden glows of gryphon wings; others came in triplets, each cluster a different pastel colour.

We should get started, Fusion said, it won't take them long to get here.

They've got ponies with them; I won't be able to scare these ones off! Gravity thought back, her stomach clenching and bile rising in her throat. The darkened corridor suddenly seemed to be filled with predatory shapes, and she quickly pulled down the walls and ceiling to block it with razor edged fragments. The blaze of magic lit the closest spaces, leaving the far end a deeper black that seemed still more foreboding. 

Thankful when her view was blocked with jagged stone teeth, the mare pushed some of the undamaged shutter panels into the remaining space, then used a spell normally designed to heat food to randomly weld metal wreckage over the whole mess. Finally she pulled the door closed and melted the mechanism into a single lump. Part of her was gibbering at the amount of damage she'd just done, but the rest just wanted to pull the whole place down.

===

Captain Rthar flicked open his visor and muzzle guard to scowl at the servitor, causing the unfortunate creature to fall awkwardly to its knees on the concrete, cringing away from his displeasure. "Where did the pony say they were?"

"I'm sorry, Master, t-they have barricaded themselves inside one of the beam chambers. We saw them go in, and I've seen them use magic, but I couldn't tell what sort, the shielding--" The pony talked rapidly, voice high and thin with fear, the white and brown fur on her flanks growing damp with sweat.

"Why were they not stopped?" Rthar said, unable to stop himself from staring at the shaved patch on the skewbald mare's side.

She shrank away from his gaze, lowering herself until she was flat to the ground, wings unfolding slightly to wrap around her swollen belly. "I'm sorry, Master, we didn't know what to do. She threatened to hurt them, I don't understand how--"

Rthar cut her off with a sharp wave of his paw. "That is enough. Get out of this one's sight." 

"Yes, Master, thank you Master," the mare babbled, hooves scrabbling against the concrete in her haste to obey the order. She galloped off, head held low, disappearing into the back of the large airtruck that had been commandeered to transport the remaining servitors back to the Pit for testing.

"How bad is it?" the Captain said to Agon, his breaching specialist.

"Bad enough. One length of fullerene fibre concrete loaded with boron and a set of thaumic shielding crystals, a tenth of a length of depleted uranium, then a second length of concrete holding another layer of anti-magic crystals." Agon had his visor up and was carefully scratching behind one scarred ear with the fighting claws on the outside of his suit gloves.

Rthar resisted the urge to tell him to stop. Someday that one is going to forget and do that when the claws are powered up, he thought. "By the Maker! There's less armour on a command bunker. What are they doing down there?" He shook his head. Scientists, more trouble than they are worth -- although this one must be pretty valuable, to hear command yammer on about her, he thought. "Options?"

"Tricky. The servitor will see this circus a kilolength off -- is command sure about it being the problem?" Agon shrugged at his Captain's weary nod. "One for the history files then. The doors are still our best bet; send in the gryphs with the servitors suppressing any magic, then these ones can try to flank it. Do it fast enough and we might even get the hostages back." He paused, contemplating the crystalline tip of one fighting claw, before retracting it into its housing. "Did they tell the Captain why the team needs to go straight in?"

"No, but this one has heard rumours. We go in; save the hostages if possible, but killing the servitors is the priority."

"Why not just frag them from the outset, if the hostages are expendable?"

"Relatively expendable, we need to at least try -- and they also want identifiable bodies, not scorched DNA." Rthar sucked air in through his teeth. "Pack the thermobarics anyway."

Agon grinned, a wide smile that wasn't wholly sane. "That's what this one likes to hear."

===

The view through the little drone was surprisingly good for such a small camera. Captain Rthar watched as the insect sized robot -- one of a swarm currently spreading out through the complex, mapping as they went -- crawled through a narrow opening between two blade-like shards of concrete. The extent of the barricade had come as a nasty surprise, as had the level of destruction inside the complex. 

Parts of the structure had been almost completely gutted; something that must have worked like one of the big thaumic bores had cut corkscrew tunnels through the various levels, slicing indiscriminately through supports and work areas alike. The whole place was probably highly unstable and would be cheaper to demolish and rebuild than repair. Nice, Rthar thought sourly, trust a servitor to never do half a job. The creatures were appallingly efficient; the Captain began to get a bad feeling about this mission.

Has the Pit underestimated this creature? he thought. The last moments of data from the autosurgeon were clear; the over-powered servitor that had been a problem last time was well on its way to being euthanized, there was no way it could have caused this. Everyone is gearing up for another thaumomagnetic pulse, what if that's not what's happening here? If the other servitor has been sent mad by whatever has been done to it, where is the panic? Rthar probed the unpleasant idea a little more, a sudden realisation making his hackles rise.

This feels like it's planned, like this one is dancing to someone else's tune. Why would the servitor-- He bit at the end of his tongue, trying to draw out the thought, trying to imagine what he could have done differently. What does it think it knows that Rthar doesn't? It would be five on one, complete with all the firepower his gryphon units could apply. Too late now. Even if command had thought it necessary to request one of the Military's 'Arclight' suppressor units it wouldn't have helped.

The mapping was nearly done, all those little drones having found places to attach themselves -- in cracks, under furniture, on the tops of light fittings -- providing a combination sensor and communications network that guaranteed nothing would move inside the complex without the Captain knowing about it. Rthar then spent the half kilosecond or so it had taken his various teams to get into position thrashing out the basics of their entry plan. 

Currently he was crouched with three other People at the far end of the small corridor leading to the control deck, watching Agon set up the Bore Snake while he monitored the Handler's efforts at organizing one of the distractions. The radiation lock with its oversized equipment access would be perfect for a frontal assault, once the servitors finished clearing the wreckage. This is never going to work, the Captain thought, privately writing off the hostages in his mind. If that pony wants them dead, then this one can't stop it. He hated this kind of attack; massive pressure from the Pit and no time to prepare.

"Ready to breach in two hundred seconds," the Handler said, relaying an image of a corridor now free of razor edged stone and metal. He wasn't that close, of course, but hunkered down with the servitors behind the T-junction at the end of the corridor; the creatures were skittish enough that the Handler really needed to be physically close to get their best performance under these stressful conditions. The imposing bulk of the radiation lock was stark in the ring of temporary lighting shining on it; everyone had low light gear, but there was still something to be said for attacking with the light behind you -- especially for this kind of distraction.

Big though the corridor was, there still wasn't room for all four fireteams to play a useful part in the attack, so the Captain had placed one fireteam -- three gryphons and a single pony to transport all the gear -- in the equipment space above the beamline chamber. They were busy drilling through the thick concrete, rigging the ceiling with demolition charges to provide another direction of threat for the targets to worry about.

All of this -- servitors ordered to be magically noisy clearing the tunnel, the sounds of drilling from above, and the massed formation of gryphons and associated magically active hardware -- was a feint and should have focused the rogue servitor's attention wonderfully. Meanwhile, the Captain and remaining three People had hauled the Bore Snake to the far end of their corridor and were working to set the thing up.

This was a calculated risk; the power suits his team wore were essentially invisible to a servitor's magic senses, as long as their antimagic defences were off. The Bore Snake was loaded with thaumic systems, but it should just look like any other bit of complex scientific equipment, especially in this magically cluttered environment. The anonymous grey box, only a quarter of a length on a side, but very heavy, was being anchored to the floor with rock bolts and a spray adhesive so strong that it would be easier to rip up the floor than shift it.

The Captain ran through the plan in his head once more; as all the best plans were, it was simple, but provided plenty of flexibility if one part should fail. The intention was that the power suited People would make the kill, but each element of the assault presented a credible threat. In the mind of the target, all would have to be countered -- and if it went to plan, the Captain and his team would be able to strike while the rogue was occupied at the radiation lock. Agon started on the last bolt, taking it slow to reduce the risk of noise giving them away. 

The pony thinks it is safe behind all that rubble, the Captain thought, connecting to the Bore Snake's targeting array, time to prove it wrong.

> 27 - Knocking on heaven’s door 
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist


=== Chapter 27 (remastered): Knocking on heaven’s door ===


Sersjant Ellisif Inga stared through her HUD at the flat plate of the breaching charge. She was halfway down the corridor, just behind the squad designated to act as the entry team. Crouching and ready to spring, wings folded and protected under their armour's carapace plates, they looked more like grey beetles than mammals.

"Masters, there is a force field behind the radiation lock door."

Ellisif didn't recognise the speaker, but knew it was one of the ponies. She'd never worked so closely with the creatures before -- normally it was a case of 'smash and grab', any ponies only used as pack animals or to keep others of their kind from misguidedly interfering with an operation. Like most gryphons, she held them with a certain amount of contempt; creatures of little apparent free will, always bowing and scraping to the Masters, hanging off their every word or gesture. Not entirely fair, she thought, I know gryphons like that... and it's not like they have much choice. Not for the first time, she gave thanks to the Maker that the Masters hadn't found a way to magically enforce their authority. That had been tried in the past, but hadn't ended well for the unit in question.

Watching the team of normally skittish ponies dismantle ten lengths of collapsed corridor almost as quickly as she could have walked it was a real eye-opener. The dust-filled air was alive with pastel lights, as bits of rubble outweighing any two of her squad were ripped up and stacked neatly along the sides of the corridor.

The last lump, a section of supporting beam that had to be cut several times before the ponies could free it from other material still attached to the roof, floated past Ellisif's head and vanished into an adjacent office area. She gave a silent wave to the point fireteam, and the lead pair dashed forwards with the breaching charge, covered by the third. This was always the ticklish spot; not quite ready for entry, and if anything did kick off she'd have a third of her force hanging in the wind.

One of the pair on demo duty abruptly froze, raising a talon for silence.

===

Bastion was standing with the rest of the ponies assigned to the radiation lock breaching team, trying to ignore the bone-deep tiredness he felt after clearing the blocked corridor. All four were tucked out of sight around the corner at the end of the corridor, the fifth member of the herd somewhere else helping with the drilling operation. The gryphons were all in position, and he had nothing to do but watch his Master for any sign that he was needed. 

Like all the ponies, he’d heard only a little about was going on, and had assumed that for the rest of this mission he would just have to be on the lookout for any civilian servitors likely to interfere with his Masters. The thing that really set his stomach churning were the rumours and overheard conversations between the gryphons. This mission was something different; instead of the team going after a group of rogue Masters -- the mere thought of which still made his head hurt, even after all the missions he'd been on -- the target was a pony.

Bastion tasted the idea again, trying to get a grip on it. A pony had gone against the will of the Masters. A pony had attacked and injured a Master. The words were simple, but the concept... He shook his head; even thinking the words produced an uncomfortable pressure in his chest.

The unsettling thoughts vanished as Handler Elorm finished with whatever she was doing with the gryphons and turned to Bastion, flicking open her visor as she did so. The stallion felt a little burst of gratitude at this simple act; being able to actually see his Master always helped him feel better.

"Is the pony ready?" Elorm said.

"Master--" Bastion found himself nodding, then hesitated, suddenly aware of the rest of the herd intently listening in on the exchange. His pale green ears flattened against the fullerene ceramic shell of his helmet. "Is there anything specific we need to be prepared for, I--"

Parapet, the orange mare who had been tasked with watching the beamline chamber for any signs of activity, suddenly interrupted. "The force field has dropped, target moving," she said in a voice high with excitement.

===

Gravity paced restlessly, every low frequency rumble from the ceiling adding to her nerves and making progress far slower than it should have been. The arcane pattern was starting to make sense; little modifications here and there allowed the mare to fit it to the standardised techniques she'd been taught.

She dismissed the half formed teleportation pattern -- still not quite at the point where she could try it -- from her mind and stood in the middle of the beam chamber. Her ears flicked and she cocked her head to one side, listening to the sound of drilling coming through the roof. Why do you think they are doing that? she thought to Fusion. It will take them ages to punch through. The activity outside the radiation lock made much more sense; there were at least four ponies and nine or ten gryphons doing something out there.

I'm not sure, Fusion said, but they obviously think it's worth the effort. The sound had come in bursts from slightly different parts of the roof, like they were drilling a pattern of holes in the concrete.

They'll never blast through this much shielding, the best they can hope for is to fracture it -- perhaps it's a distraction? The mare's thoughts turned sour. If that's true, then it's a good plan. The noise and constant desire to check up on the movement visible through her shadow sight was ruining her concentration.

Oh, Maker, no!

Gravity twitched at the sudden fear in her sister's thoughts. What? What is it?

They might not be able to cut through all of it, but I bet they can damage the thaumic crystal array. There was a moment of silence in the mental space. There must be a suppressor on the way.

Gravity switched her attention back to the radiation lock corridor, watching the Security troops or whatever they were, move with her shadow sight. The bright flare of telekinesis had subsided; the ponies had finished dismantling her barricade and had pulled back to the far end of the corridor, where it ended in a T junction. The gryphons were more obvious without the other magic in the way; three overhead doing the drilling, three down each side of the corridor, and a final three...

The blue mare slumped, starting to feel sick. Three gryphons were doing something to the closed radiation lock. "I'm not so sure it matters. Damaging the roof enough to make a difference will still take a long time, but it looks like they are getting ready to blow the door," she said, opening her eyes and staring at the blank curve of the inside of the lock. Her legs trembled and she took a deep breath. Don't make me do this, please. Just wait another kilosecond and we'll be gone. With the thought came the memory of Salrath's gryphon; the crack of breaking bone when she'd thrown the cage at him back at the animal house. 

Are you really that far from getting it to work? Fusion said.

Too far, Gravity thought. They put me through some engineering courses as part of my pathfinding, before I settled on remote manipulation. It won't take long to set charges; that door is nowhere as thick as the wall.

The silence lengthened, both ponies watching the gryphons by the door. "Maker dammit," Gravity muttered, "why couldn't the Masters be in the front row?" She trotted back to the remains of the frame she'd pulled off the control room windows, pulling out a nice straight metal bar.

I'm sorry, I wish I could help. You shouldn't have to do this by yourself.

You had to, Gravity thought back. You knew that your Master would start work on me next, so you protected me the best you could. Even after I turned on you, you stayed close. The mare trimmed the ends of the bar with quick, flickering planes of violet light, cutting off the fixing bolts to leave her with a fluted metal rod one and a half times her body length and the thickness of her foreleg. She flicked the bar end over end, changing her magical grip from middle to tip and back again. With her new strength she could make the thing whistle and blur, snapping from one direction to another. Even after I hated you. You need me now... besides, what choice is there?

None, none at all, Fusion said sadly. I wish--

What I wish is that I never knew any of this, that I still thought there was a purpose to my existence, other than as a disposable component in someone else's machine. The thoughts kindled Gravity's anger, driving away some of the fear and filling her with fire. What I wish is that I could go home, back to our friends and family, back to a normal life. But I can't, can I? The life I thought I had was ruined before I was even born.

With the anger at everything she'd lost came an epiphany. Hurriedly, Gravity clamped down on the sharing and withheld her thoughts from Fusion, because along with the fear and anger came a sense of righteousness.

I want this. I... I need this.

The idea was so unexpected that she paused, suddenly suspicious, and tried to analyse her thoughts. There was none of the crystalline taste that had accompanied her burst of rage back in the animal house, none of the feeling of other. 

Is this really me, am I actually looking forward to this fight? She buried the thoughts as deeply as she could, as far from the sharing as she could manage. I have beaten a Master half to death, tortured another out of revenge... and now I'm planning to kill as many of their servants as I can. What has happened to me? What are they forcing me to become? There was no answer to her questions and the mare shook vigorously, trying to rid herself of the unsettling idea. "A monster I will be," she muttered. This isn't Fusion's fault, this is all on me. All these gryphons are going to die because of my stupidity.

Sister, are you alright? Fusion said.

Just thinking how fast love can flip into hate, Gravity replied, I'm already tired of running and hiding, and it's only been a day since I found out. How did you keep this up for a whole megasecond? she thought to Fusion. At least this time there is no ambiguity, no innocents among these Masters -- they must be here somewhere, hiding behind their gryphons and ponies -- they are coming to kill us.

Yes, Fusion said, the worry obvious in her tone. It was fear, mostly. Fear for you and fear for everypony else. I understand, I really do, but be careful -- and don't go too far from the lock. What will you do if they turn the suppressor on while you are outside?

Run away. There was a little warning, at least. When I get back we'll be no worse off... and maybe I'll have convinced them to leave us alone for a while. Gravity picked up the cut fragments and enveloped them with magic, the razor edged metal collapsing under her irresistible grip to make lumpy, hoof-sized spheres. I'll fight them from inside the radiation lock if I have to. Just have to hope the rest of the shielding makes up for the hole. Her ears flattened, wings ruffling nervously. Hopefully I can do this without hurting those ponies.

Fusion didn't reply, so Gravity stacked the metal balls by the radiation lock, then reached out and pulled one of the machines off the ceiling. The thing, a vaguely cylindrical mass of stainless steel and water-clear crystals, came free with a screech of twisting metal, the sound loud enough to rouse Lilac from his arcane trance. His horn light flickered out and his head rose questioningly. "What's happening," he said, "are the bad gryphons here?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. I'm going to go outside to stop them." She placed the machine in the middle of the lock chamber, just behind her force field. "Could you move Fusion over there?" Gravity gestured with the long metal bar at one of the corners underneath the now open control deck windows. Lilac's eyes widened at the sight of the improvised weapon, the mirror smooth chisel tip throwing little sparks of violet horn light across his scarred face. "As soon as I go through the door, put a force field over the entrance. Can you do that for me? The Masters need you to be strong; you'll be their last line of defence should anything get past me."

Lilac sat up straighter. "I will," he said, getting up and trotting to her side, staring at the mare with a strange expression that seemed almost yearning.

Impulsively, Gravity wrapped her wings around the stallion, leaning in to rub her muzzle against his cheek. "I know you will," she whispered. "Be strong and we'll get through this." One last squeeze and she released him, gesturing with one wing for him to step back. She looked thoughtfully at the inner surface of the radiation lock, pulling apart the machine she'd taken and stripping it down until it was a collection of disconnected pipes and bars. Taking two long pieces, she strode over to where Lagorth was watching her, getting some satisfaction from the look of fear on his face.

She drove the first bar deep into the concrete floor, bending the end over into a hook. The second she twisted into a figure of eight, then held it out for the police officer. "Give me your paws," she said, then pulled his arms out from his sides when he didn't move fast enough. He struggled, panting and straining, but Gravity could barely feel his efforts. His wrists went through the holes in the figure-eight, then she squashed the metal to make it snug. One more squeeze and the improvised restraints were firmly attached to the ground spike.

"Don't go anywhere," Gravity said, trotting back to the radiation lock without a backwards glance. 

Standing facing the lock door, the mare picked up her collection of improvised projectiles, setting a few spinning in lazy orbits around her head. The rest she lifted into a hexagonal array between herself and the door. She hesitated, then smiled sadly and plucked the communicator from the fur of her throat. "The last link to my old life," she murmured, "I nearly forgot about you." With a pang of regret, she sent the metal disk to float above her ears. 

Gravity closed her eyes and dropped into shadow sight, concentrating on her magic. Arcane patterns filled her mind; a spell to block the ear destroying pressure pulses of high velocity projectiles, another to repel anything solid entering a zone in front of her. In front of her the wall of violet light vanished.

She took a deep breath, gritted her teeth and pushed.

===

The warning made something cold crawl up Ellisif's spine, and she opened her beak to order the point team to fall back, but before she could utter a word her thaumic attack warning sensors let out their beak-achingly shrill screech. An instant later the whole door, a two length square of steel and concrete, exploded outwards. 

Stunning impacts on her head and chest slammed Ellisif off her paws, throwing her into the soldier waiting at her back. She had a brief view of the ceiling, then something big flashed past her, a blurred image of beak and legs, so fast that it was little more than an afterimage. The object collided with the broken ceiling and bounced into the wall at the end of the corridor.

"Return fire," she croaked, still trying to get to her paws. The high-pitched whine in her ears gave her voice a muffled sound, like she was being smothered with a blanket, but the order must have been heard because there was a ragged salvo of gunfire from somewhere over her head. The sound built, bringing with it a diffuse flicker of light from the dust hiding the door, violet lightning seen through distant clouds.

She was tangled in the wings of the soldier she'd hit, something that she couldn't understand as they should have been safely tucked away behind his armour's carapace panels, and Ellisif cursed him as she grabbed hold of a handy metal bar to get back on her paws. Her gun's HUD had blanked out, but she reached for the foregrip anyway, steadying herself against the bar as she pulled her weapon forward on its rail.

The bar, a section of I-beam a good talons-width across, twitched under her claws, and she looked down at it. Her mind filled in the gaps of what she'd seen and the gryphoness recoiled. She had one clawed hind leg on the soldier's chest, and was steadying herself on a spike that pinned him to the floor like a rat on a dissection tray. He moved weakly, one set of talons coming up to touch the metal, as if he couldn't quite believe it was there.

Sersjant Ellisif Inga took one step forward, hunkering down to shield her squadmate with her body, then clamped down on the trigger bar with all her strength. Nothing happened and she cursed, ripping the useless weapon from its mounting and reaching into her panniers for a grenade.

===

Violet light blazed out of the radiation lock, casting stark shadows on the rear wall of the beamline chamber. At the same instant there was an ear shattering crack-boom, the individual sounds so close as to overlap. The array of projectiles hovering in front of the blue mare simply vanished, accelerated past the sound barrier at rates unmatched by any conventional firearm. The wall of the radiation lock, thick and tough as it was, didn't stand a chance.

The long, straight corridor, wide enough to take a heavy loader, was turned into a giant shotgun barrel as fragments of door exploded outwards.

Once she'd given them their initial push, Gravity didn't let her projectiles have their own ballistic way. Instead she kept a hold of them, nudging each one towards a different target. All three of the door team were blown backwards by the fragmenting door and her own multi kilo projectiles. Their armour was tough and they were not braced, so the fast moving steel threw them down the corridor over the heads of their squadmates, rather than ripping them apart. The others were not so lucky.

Two died outright, the golden light from their wings flicking out as they were transfixed in the chest or belly by steel bars longer than they were. Fullerene-ceramic scales able to turn aside a bullet moving a kilolength a second were no defence against the sledgehammer blows; blunt metal punched through armour front and back, only stopping after it had buried deeply in the concrete floor. Their flesh barely slowed it at all.

The soldiers recovered with commendable speed and shots started coming back at the mare, first an isolated burst, then a rapidly building crescendo of fire. Something stung her on the foreleg, then another line of fire whipped along her flank. The mare gasped at the sudden pain, jerking her head sideways at the whip-crack of supersonic bullets barrelling past her ears. Close, too close! she thought, struggling to increase the power of the spell supposed to deflect them. The projectiles were just too fast to have their trajectories shifted enough for safety, and the mare hunched down to reduce her frontal area. 

The power was there, in fact she had to throttle it, hold it back lest it poured through to rip her simple spell patterns asunder. Another wasp stung her on the crown of her head, and the distraction caused her faltering spell to fail completely. For a moment she was defenceless -- any single shot could have killed her outright -- but the fire was still panicked and none of the soldiers were doing any actual aiming. 

Something exploded over her shoulder, and the sudden sandblast sensation of stone chips and fragments washing over her left flank shocked her into abandoning her efforts to recover the deflection spell. Her floundering mind found another pattern and the bell toll of her force field was loud in the sudden quiet, as the crack and roar of gunfire cut off. The mare took a moment to catch her breath, checking her leg to see the extent of her injury.

Lucky again, she thought, a nudge to the right and that would have gone through my knee. The movement of her head stretched the skin over her neck and withers, prompting a sudden burst of stinging from all over that flank; Gravity winced, then straightened up, looking into the dark corridor through the violet flicker of her force field. She'd hoped to avoid this; although strong, this kind of 'physics shield' took constant attention to maintain, especially if a pony wanted to move.

Gravity's field had appeared as a violet half dome centred about her horn, nearly filling the corridor from floor to ceiling and penetrating deep into the floor. The sphere was the simplest shape to cast, but it also fixed the pony to one spot. The mare twisted her neck to look upwards, thankful that the roof was so high; a lower ceiling would have been cut by the field and collapsed in on her. 

Little pulses of fatigue swept through Gravity, timed with the flashes of fast objects hitting her field in an almost continuous wave, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. A moment's thought and a second field appeared inside the first, this one a curved oval, like a section of eggshell that extended almost to ground level. She starved the first one of power, allowing the constant impacts to destroy it, then stepped forward into battle.

===

The explosion was strong enough to make the floor jump under Bastion's hooves and was accompanied by the sharp sound of fragments striking the end of the corridor. At the same time there was a sudden itching at the base of his horn and someone started screaming hoarse, gryphon cries, then all normal sound was erased by the hammer of automatic fire. Bastion let out an involuntary whinny, shrinking back from the sudden rage on Elorm's face. Something's gone wrong, the breaching charge went off early -- but why are they firing? he thought, wings half emerging from his armour carapace.

Elorm slammed shut her visor and leapt for the corridor, leaving the herd alone and leaderless. Along the top of Bastion's HUD a row of green dots flickered, two turning a deep red while others went yellow or orange. The itching got stronger and the stallion suddenly realised what it was, then dropped into shadow sight to see what was happening.

The corridor was alive with light. Purple polygons of the soldier's antimagic defences were bunched at one end, the actual gryphon only really made visible by the golden glow of their wing bones and the collection of crystal thaumic systems and ammunition each carried. The radiation lock end should have been almost dark, backed only by the hard colours of crystals embedded in the shielded door. The door was gone, and in its place was something so bright it made everything else pale by comparison. 

It was definitely a pony, but one that blazed with light. Its whole body glowed like a living flame, a purple so deep as to be encroaching on the ultraviolet. Wings outspread, it stood at the centre of a maelstrom of magic, a vortex of force manipulation designed to repel anything that got close. On top of that was the hard light of a telekinesis so powerful that Bastion almost didn't recognise it, until he realised the magic was wrapped around solid objects.

He watched as the pony-shape twitched as if dodging something, then some of the magic evaporated, only to be replaced an instant later by a spherical force field. By now the gunfire was almost continuous, little flashes and ripples of magic spalling off the perfect sphere with each round that struck it. This further added to his confusion; he'd been shot at before -- it was a regular part of their training -- and he knew what it was like to turn aside a high velocity bullet, knew how much it should have cost the pony behind the shield. The glowing shape seemed unconcerned by the attacks, almost like they were not there at all. The field abruptly changed shape, from a purely defensive globe to something that resembled half an egg on its side. She'll be able to move, he thought automatically, then a chill suddenly ran down his spine as he realised that all the rumours were true.

This is the target, this pony, and she's killing the gryphons-- The shock was replaced by a sick horror; this was supposed to be a hostage rescue mission, which meant there must be a Master somewhere in that room. She's taken a Master hostage! The thought was nearly enough to make him fall to his knees and beg forgiveness for the crimes of his fellow pony, but a sharp pain at the base of his skull brought him to his senses.

Through the pain, Bastion exchanged glances with his herdmates, all of whom held similar expressions of shock and disbelief mixed with discomfort. "We've got to hold her and bring down her force field," he said hoarsely, "knock her out if we can."

He could see the doubt in their eyes, and he understood it. The techniques for dealing with a mistaken or misguided pony were simple enough, and with four on one it should have been an easy feat to pin her down and smother her magic. But she's so strong, he thought, the fear of failure threatening to make him weep; his Masters were in danger and he might not be able to save them.

No, I've got to try, he thought, and with his decision to act the pain faded away enough that he could concentrate. Green fire bloomed over his horn and he focused on the appallingly strong force field, hunting for some thread he could prise loose. 

===

Captain Rthar heard the explosion and bit back a curse on the ancestry of all gryphons. As much as his first instinct was to blame the failings of the client race, one glance at the thumbnail video window told the true story. The picture was poor, loaded with sparkles, static and dropouts, as the drone network failed under a thaumic load far in excess of its design limits. Other warnings flashed over his HUD, the most worrying a failure of the link to the surface, but all of Rthar's attention was on that video. The radiation lock door had disintegrated into a cloud of dust, embedded within which was an indistinct violet haze. As he watched, objects came flying out of that cloud, fast flickering blurs only really made visible by the telekinetic glow around them.

The rattle of gunfire answered, but the flying objects kept coming. Rthar started to get a sinking feeling; a servitor might be able to hold off the fire from one or two troopers, but three full fireteams? If this one finds out this information was known-- he bit off the thought, casting a fast glance at Specialist Agon, still setting up the Bore Snake. The Specialist shook his head, the meaning obvious. Too long.

The Captain snapped out a paw, pointing at the first of his two remaining troopers. "End of the corridor," he snarled, then pointed at the second, "flank through the store room on the left. Rthar will take the other side. Go in hot. Move!" Rthar fitted action to order, activating his personal antimagic defences and smashing through the maintenance hatch on his side of the still blocked corridor. The locked door popped open without hindering his movements, the sheer mass and strength of his armour suit breaking the mechanism without noticeable effort.

The outside of the beamline chamber was a large square, almost twelve lengths on a side and six high, with the radiation lock and control room access corridors on opposite sides. The space outside the monstrously thick shielding was relatively open, laced with access ways and mesh catwalks allowing workers to install new equipment easily, as well as monitor any leakage through the thick walls. The power armour team had kept away from that volume for fear of detection by the servitors inside the chamber, but this was no longer an issue.

As he sprinted down the walkways, the Captain wondered what had happened to cause the pony to attack -- the servitor psychologist had insisted that it would most likely only try to defend itself, or its kin -- then dismissed it from his mind as he rammed a support pillar, using it to turn the corner without slowing. He'd long since stopped wondering the why of anything unless he was inside a bar with something alcoholic; such things were of little use in a firefight where milliseconds counted.

His map display showed him the location of each trooper; although the corridor end position was the furthest, that soldier had only needed to jump up one level to have a direct route to his start position and was almost ready. Too many Maker damned catwalks! Ahead of Rthar was a blank wall, the green track of the software generated route disappearing through it. He didn't slow, just gritted his teeth and charged, hoping that some idiot scientist hadn't placed something massive behind a wall his tactical computer thought he could break.

Weapon arms tucked neatly behind his back, the Captain pulled his paws up to protect the relatively fragile helmet mounted sensors, striking the wall with his heavily armoured elbows. There was a sudden jarring impact, then he was through, the wall breaking in a shower of mineral dust and plastic fibres. A moment of elation, then he tripped, something catching him on the thighs.

Biting back the urge to swear -- the throat mic would pick up even the faintest subvocalisation and the review board would never let him forget breaking comms discipline -- Rthar kicked the storage unit out of his way, casting around for the green circle his tactical overlay projected on the floor. Procedure was to wait until all parts of the formation were in place before starting a manoeuvre, but the situation board showed that most of the gryphons had been incapacitated. Red halos around the ponies' status markers were more of a concern, indicating a dangerously high magical output. If he waited, the rogue might overpower his servitors, and that was probably the only thing keeping the creature from killing them all right now, antimagic defences or no.

Leaping up on a convenient crate, he sent the 'attack soonest' order with a coded twitch of his tail through the suit's haptic interface, while simultaneously activating the cannon's breaching mode with a muttered voice command. The gun spun up to speed in a tenth of a second, spitting out a halo of carefully placed shots in less time than Rthar could blink. He froze for a moment, seeing one of his squad's armour suit damage indicators flash from green to yellow, then jumped to the centre of the ragged circle, stamping down with both booted paws. 

The floor gave way and he fell the two lengths to the level below, drawing his laser from its socket on his backpack as he did so. Normal servitors panicked under combat conditions -- falling into fugue at the conflict between their desire to help one of the People, and their instincts to run from a threat, or actually trying to help the one who Security was trying to apprehend. This was one reason why lasers were carried; a bullet or missile was far better at punching through armour, but nothing beat a laser for a long range take-down. That, and they went straight through a force field.

===

Gravity felt the other ponies as a fast blooming surge of pressure against her force field, sapping her strength in ways that no mere firearm could duplicate. The faint presence of Fusion at the back of her head evaporated like a snowflake under a welding torch, the delicate magical link snapping in an instant. The Security ponies were easy to locate, a bright flare of pastel light at the far end of the corridor, like somepony had decided to start a fireworks display. The mare took one last jab with her improvised weapon -- the metal bar was long enough that she could keep a hold of it while still reaching the gryphon inside each antimagic bubble -- using it to bat one unfortunate beak over tail down the corridor, then concentrated her efforts on shoring up her defences.

The other four ponies -- five now, they had been joined by the one at the drilling rig -- were putting their whole strength into knocking down her field, and Gravity was starting to breathe like she was at the end of a ten kilolength hoof race with the effort it was taking to fend them off. The light in the corridor grew to an intolerable brightness; a magnesium white from the blended colours of the other ponies fighting with the near ultraviolet of Gravity's own horn light.

The mare had wondered at the limits of her new strength; now she was starting to identify them. Taking great, gasping breaths, Gravity pushed her magic ever harder, sweat pouring down her flanks as she split her effort between holding off the ponies and continuing her attack on the gryphons. Mind already stretched with the cut and thrust of her magical duel, she felt panic start to rise at the sudden appearance of four more antimagic fields. These were different from the rest; the figures inside were bipedal. One was at the end of the corridor with the ponies, with another sprinting in that direction. Two others were converging on her from opposite sides through the wrecked complex, having started from near the control room entrance. 

Masters! Gravity thought, grunting as she spared a little attention to flick a grenade back down the corridor, aiming for the gryphon who'd thrown it. I knew they had to be here somewhere. The shapes were similar to the ones she'd seen back at the training centre; bulky things with a surprising turn of speed. Without thinking she threw her metal bar like a spear at the closest; the projectile was badly damaged, the previously sharp tip mushroomed by repeated impacts against gryphon armour, but it still had enough momentum to kill if she could hit with it.

The magical attacks on her lessened abruptly as several of the Security ponies switched to trying to divert her attack on the Master; it should have hit the suit high on the chest, but instead struck her target with a glancing blow on the shoulder. Despite this, it had enough of an effect -- the suit slammed backwards into the wall, dropping to the floor. The output of the other ponies dropped further and the germ of an idea grew in Gravity's mind.

===

Sersjant Ellisif Inga pulled the retractable tow line from its reel in the centre of her chest, trying to clip it to the haul loop on flysoldat Jarli's armour with trembling claws. The grenade she'd thrown had detonated somewhere over the pony's shoulder, but all that had happened was that a dome of violet light had filled most of the corridor. The gunfire continued, the constant crack of supersonic rounds making her flinch like she was a first day recruit. She let out a wordless screech of frustration when the clip slipped again, then resorted to hammering the thing through the damaged loop with her other foreclaw.

"I've got you," she whispered in a strained voice, unheard against the boom of exploding ammunition. She took a staggering step to get the line to its full extension, closing her eyes against a sudden flare of rainbow light that seemed to surge and pulse in time with the violet light behind her. Those must be our ponies, she thought, while leaning into her harness and trying to shift the inert bulk, but he wouldn't budge. A new sound intruded on the cacophony, a high pitched droning whine, the sound of something big being whipped through the air. Still straining, she plucked another grenade from her harness, setting the fuze for proximity with a few clicks of her beak through the command interface on her visor.

She flung the egg-sized thing in the general direction of the violet light, then hit the floor as her threat alarms highlighted her own grenade flying right back at her. It detonated a few lengths behind her tail, the shock wave knocking her senseless for a few seconds. When Ellisif recovered, another light on her remote medical panel was flashing red, and she realised that Jarli was dead. One quick glance back told her all she needed to know, and more. The blast had flicked him sideways, showing just how deep the metal bar had gone. So that's why he wouldn't move, she thought dully, for the first time noticing exactly how few of her squad remained. 

Ellisif hit the release to drop the cable at her end, training finally kicking in and integrating the brief, one sided firefight. Every gryphon that had shot at the pony was now dead or injured; the drilling crew and herself were the only ones still showing as 'green' on her medical display. The pony had struck back at any gryphon attacking her; the only reason the sersjant was still alive was that her gun had jammed and Jarli had soaked up the fragments from her grenade. It's managed to hold off five of our ponies and still fight, she thought. The conclusions were obvious. We can't stop it.

"Fall back to rally point," she croaked, "travelling overwatch, do not return fire." It was a hard decision to make, but at least this way she could save some of them. Something else penetrated her dazed mind; all the shooting had stopped before she'd given the order. She started to back towards the polychromatic horn light glare from the Security ponies, trying to detect any sign of the rogue's violet glow. Did we get it? she thought, daring to hope.

Her answer was a green pulse of reflected laser light and the high pitched scream of a rotary cannon at full rate.

===

Freed to move by her distraction of the Security ponies, Gravity jumped sideways through one of the holes she'd made in the wall, landing unsteadily in what was once an office area. Here, out of sight of the gryphons, she had even more power to spare. On the other side of the room, just dropping through the ceiling, was one of the suits. It looked just like the ones she'd seen before; insectile and blank faced, with an extra set of arms attached to where the hips were. 

It was hard to tell body language through all that armour, but she thought she detected a slight jolt of surprise when the thing saw her. One real arm came up holding a stubby cylinder, but the mare flicked a broken desk at the suit, spoiling the its aim. A brief pulse of green light, as bright as lightning and ruler straight, lanced over her shoulder as the paw holding it went wide. The beam just clipped the end of her wing, blowing off a cloud of fine feathers as it did so.

Gravity closed her eyes against the afterimages, suddenly feeling a very real fear. She had no defence against a laser.

With a horrible display of strength, the suit batted aside the remains of the desk, the multi barrelled gun suddenly spinning rapidly and filling the room with thunder. This the mare could deal with -- although the much higher rate of fire gave her a momentary panic -- and her force field flashed in time with the impacts. The suit was moving again, trying to close the distance, but Gravity used the opportunity to locate something heavy enough to be a real weapon. 

A chunk of concrete the size of her head, still with a ragged fringe of reinforcing bars, glowed violet for an instant before vanishing with a bang that was louder than the automatic cannon fire. Propelled across the room with all of Gravity's panicked strength behind it, the rock smashed into the chest of the suit, throwing it backwards through the wall. The polygon of its antimagic field vanished and the mare hauled the thing back into the room, dropping back to normal sight and getting ready to smash it into the floor and finish the job.

It wasn't necessary. The original impact had caved in the chest plate, forcing great cracks through the hard metal carapace. Something red started to trickle out of the damaged suit, running down one leg. Gravity stared at it, alternately horrified and fascinated, but unable to keep a savage smile from her muzzle.

A noise and sudden motion out of the corner of one eye made her jump to the side, pulling the inert suit between her and the opening at her back. The room blazed with stroboscopic pulses of green light, so bright that it was like looking at the noon-day sun, then she dipped back into shadow sight and flung her improvised shield in the direction of the other suit, aiming for the purple glow of its antimagic field. 

Arms and legs trailing limply, the dead soldier flew through ragged openings in the corridor walls, hitting the other suit square on. She lost her telekinetic grip after it passed through the field, but both suits flew backwards five lengths or more, smashing aside chairs and desks before being stopped suddenly by a big concrete pillar. The other field flickered out.

===

There was a lull in the gunfire, then a flash of reflected laser light from where the other trooper was advancing from the opposite side of the beamline chamber, followed by the high-pitched scream of a rotary cannon. Rthar hurried forward, trying to get a clear view of the servitor. The floor here was uneven; great gouges had been ripped from the surface, razor edged scoops where material had been used to barricade the corridor. There was another flash, this one violet, at the same time as a great thud that he swore he could feel through the soles of his boots. The second armour suit indicator turned crimson and started to pulse.

There was a flash of movement, the shape of something equine silhouetted against a glowing violet wall, and the Captain centred his reticule on the slender neck, slipping slightly as his paw came down into one of the glass-smooth depressions. His target moved and reflexively he squeezed the trigger.

He knew something was wrong the instant his visor reacted to step down the reflected glare. Without the protection of this synthetic view he would have lost his sight, even so the sudden flash effectively blanked the middle part of his view, reducing the normal high resolution colour image to a crude monochrome synthesized from wavelengths distant to the visible band. 

A sudden flicker of motion, a rapidly expanding Person-shape only seen as a brief impression before impact.

It was like he'd stepped in front of a levitation train. There was a confusing blur of motion and a series of heavy blows, terminating in a single, sudden impact that nearly knocked him senseless even inside the rigid shell of his suit. Rattled, he lay there for a second, staring stupidly at his damage control display, a wireframe Person that flickered and flashed through the spectrum of colours below green.

It's going to kill this one, the Captain realised with a flash of insight. It's going to see this one with that freaky magic vision they all have and finish the job. His external microphones must have been damaged, as everything had a weird muffled sound to it, but he could still hear how quiet it had become. The gryphons have stopped shooting, he thought, making a snap decision and dipping his muzzle to toggle the emergency shutdown switch with his teeth.

Breathing suddenly became an effort as the ventilation system shut off, forcing him to use his own lung power to pull air in through the emergency filters. Inside the helmet the darkness was absolute and the sense of being buried alive became very strong; with the muscle amplification off it would be hard to even turn his head, let alone lift the dead weight of the other trooper from his chest. The darkness was filled with the laboured gasps of his breath, every outside noise muffled by his suit's laminated armour and padding. Rthar felt his insides clench at the thought of the creature standing over him, waiting for the slightest movement.

===

The blue mare gasped and staggered, a line of fire along her flank. The itching smell of burnt fur filled her nostrils and she fought back a sneeze, twisting her head to see the extent of her injuries. Not quite quick enough, she thought, part of the beam must have gotten around that armour suit. She moaned at a spike of pain in her head; all five ponies were back to trying to overwhelm her. Without thinking she lashed out, feeling the pain lessen as the magic from one of the ponies faded and vanished.

Shocked by her actions, the efforts of the others grew chaotic. They dropped out of synchronisation to the point she could drive a wedge between them, compartmentalising them without the need to do the magical equivalent of beating each one into unconsciousness. It was like holding onto a struggling foal, one in the throes of a nightmare, neutralising random jabs of magic while stopping them from hurting themselves or others.

Guilt stabbed at Gravity. What have I just done? she thought. None of them had any choice, under the lash of the Blessing they would work themselves to destruction, try so hard that it was even odds that they would burn out or pass out. Have l just maimed that pony? She'd seen the effects on her sister, and the thought of condemning a pony to the half-life of an outcast...

The mare swallowed hard, remembering her promise not to go too far. I have to know! She swept her surroundings, trying to see what she'd done, and looking for more suits or gryphon troopers. She caught a glimpse of the downed pony, a faint and flickering yellow hornlight in the shadow realm. Still whole, the mare thought with a flash of relief. There was none of the blotchy, fragmented look like her sister's horn on that first night. He'll recover. The bright purple polygons were far fewer in number now -- a couple in the corridor itself, a few more close to the ponies -- and she could only see two of the suits. These are the ones to worry about, she thought, so what were they doing behind the control room?

She could feel herself tiring, the effort required to suppress the other four ponies' magic was high, and was coupled with a significant amount of concentration to anticipate and counter the spells without the feedback hurting them. Shaking her head, Gravity trotted a little unsteadily towards the opening used by the first Master, dropping her force field and levering herself awkwardly through the too narrow hole with a mixture of wingbeats and telekinesis. From this angle she could get a clear view of the control room corridor, without the interfering distortions of the chamber's shielding. 

There was something there, a box filled with a complex spiral of light placed in the middle of the passageway. Something about it made the fur on her back stand on end; why would there be a lump of magically active hardware in the centre of a corridor...? A vague shape, more visible by the way it distorted the background magical signal of the box than any real presence, flitted around the thing. A fifth Master, with no antimagic field? By the time the thought had registered she was moving, a simple cantrip normally used to avoid disturbing a working Master reducing the sound of her hoof-steps to no more than those of a hunting cat.

At least I might be able to hear something, she thought, it's not like I'll be able to sneak up on him. Her horn was lighting the area a lurid violet, completely overpowering the dim emergency lighting.

Reluctantly she strengthened her grip on the four Security ponies -- it had been getting increasingly difficult to keep a hold of them, as they'd started to work together, focussing their efforts to release just one of their number -- and immediately felt a wave of fatigue wash over her. Another thought and her force field reappeared, a slender vertical oval of gently glowing violet glass, shaped to pass easily through the narrow maintenance ways.

Sweating heavily from the accumulated effort, the mare trotted silently along the catwalks. She desperately missed the sage advice of her sister; she'd not tried to rebuild the connection, something that would be fruitless under these conditions. Am I being stupid? What if the Master is waiting for me? It must know she'd defeated the others and was bound to have some sort of thaumic warning system. There was nothing else to be done; if it wasn't for the other ponies she'd have had the strength to strike at him from afar, ripping the intervening space apart or using a more subtle approach and doing something to his suit from the inside.

Ahead of her there was an odd rushing sound, like gas being forced through a small opening, followed by an ear shattering bang.

===

The drone network continued to glitch and sputter, but the tactical systems in Specialist Agon's suit were designed to operate with poor bandwidth and managed to at least give him local area surveillance. He could see the servitor coming. The sudden blinking out of his Captain and the other two People had been a nasty shock, and he'd been working feverishly to complete the Bore Snake's setup ever since he'd been left alone. Agon had just completed the final checks -- the Snake was a great bit of kit, but not something that could be rushed if you wanted it to function correctly -- when his tactical computer had given the alarm.

Silently he blessed the emotionless electronics; it didn't care about the apparent impossibility of a servitor coming to kill him, just dealt in cold facts. A miniature video window had shown the creature trotting past several of the hidden camera drones, almost invisible behind a glare of violet light. Admittedly its threat classification flickered between some kind of heavy weapons gryphon trooper, or a never-seen-before chimeric monstrosity from Baur's gene labs, but it was the result that mattered.

The Snake finally armed itself and Agon took a hurried step back, resisting the instinctive urge to shield his face with one arm, before giving the thing permission to fire. The front of the Snake's launch case blew off, expelling thick pipe coated in glittering crystals. The pipe uncoiled like a giant spring, the chisel-tipped head glowing with a fierce white light as it struck the barricade and punched straight through it, dragging the pipe behind it. There was a zip noise, then all the crystals along its length flashed red and the world exploded. 

Agon charged down the passageway, sprinting with head down and arms pumping through the oddly lumpy walls of the temporary opening, simultaneously drawing his laser with one paw. The Bore Snake had done its job perfectly; the explosively pumped thaumic crystals casting short lived spells that enhanced the shockwaves and pushed everything away from the axis of the corridor, turning the razor edged rubble into a one Person wide passageway. 

The Snake had disintegrated during the explosion, but its magic lingered, coating the packed and crushed concrete with a pale radiance, keeping it in place for the critical seconds it would take an assault team to run its length. At the end of the tunnel was the control room door, also with a neat circle punched through it. The cutting head of the Snake had penetrated the far side of the room, waiting until it was in the middle of the beam chamber before detonating.

Agon’s tactical alarm shrieked a warning, and he knew that the servitor was close to the Snake’s launch point. Violet light shone from somewhere behind him, overwhelming the residual glow from the tunnelling magic and throwing the tunnel ahead into shadow. Let’s see how good the pony’s field really is, he thought, baring his teeth and slapping the detonator taped to his chest. There was a hard crack as the shock wave overtook him, more felt than heard, and the light flicked out.

Not good enough, he thought fleetingly, then was in the blasted control room, leaping over the ruined consoles and diving through the broken window. His suit knew what to do; gyros flipped him booted paws down and altered his angle of descent, keeping him upright so he would land correctly. The fall slowed to a manageable rate by thrust from his jump pack, he had a little over a second to check the room for threats before landing. 

His visor displayed the world as an ultra wide angle fusion of optical, infrared and millimetre wave, blending them all and eliminating the shadows to form a clear, high contrast image even under the most difficult lighting conditions. Long training made the distorted panorama natural, letting him see almost completely backwards while not affecting his central vision. Lights flashed on his HUD, colour coded boxes drawn around things his CQB software thought he should be aware of -- the cowering shapes of three of the People against one wall and a pair of ponies against the other. 

The angle was bad and he couldn’t get a shot while airborne; on landing he immediately jumped sideways while turning to bring his laser to bear on the ponies. One, a white creature with a pink mane and sunburst pattern on its haunches, appeared to be unconscious as a result of the blast. The other was staring back at him, eyes wide and a bloom of pale purple fire igniting over its horn.

===

Gravity gasped at the sudden explosion, throwing caution to the wind and accelerating to a full gallop, rounding the corner to see the armour suit disappearing down a red glowing tunnel. She was reaching out with her telekinesis to haul it back when the corridor exploded in front of her. The blast wave wrapped around Gravity’s force field and lost most of its power, but still retained enough force to knock her senseless.

For an instant she lost control of her magic, concentration slipping. The link to the moons snapped, taking with it the majority of her power, and she staggered at the sudden blast of pain that roared through her head. The Security ponies took full advantage of Gravity’s distraction, breaking free and turning her own tactics back at her. The rest of her power died as what felt like iron bands contracted about her head, leaving her gasping and weak kneed. Polychromatic magic crawled up her hooves, wrapping icy tendrils around her fetlocks.

Rooted to the ground she did the only thing she could; stopped fighting. At this range and through so many walls, the other ponies couldn’t hold her physically still without knowing exactly where she was -- that would have required either a real optical view or a clear sensing through shadow sight, something that was very difficult with the edge of the beam chamber's shielded walls in the way. Without the thaumic beacon of her struggles the attacking magic weakened, turning from iron to something more elastic. Moving like she was in syrup, Gravity pulled first one hoof, then the next, free of the cloying spell.

Once she moved the magic faded still further, releasing so suddenly that the mare nearly fell forwards. Breaking into a stumbling canter, Gravity accelerated down the corridor. She could feel the other ponies moving, trying to get a clear line of sight. They knew she was there, just didn't have the level of focus required to physically attack her as long as she was in the shadow of the beam chamber.

Desperate to reach the Master, she risked one quick attempt to regain her lunar connection. In the brief moment while her power reached out, the others pounced. Their magic coalesced into something amorphous that seemed to cover her coat with clinging layers of spider’s webs, each thread trying to drag her to the floor. Gravity ruthlessly clamped down on her instinctive desire to strike back, and the spell dispersed before it could fully close around her. 

Ahead there was a lightning flash of pure green. A scream, high and full of pain, echoed up from the control room.

===

Lilac was lost in the comfortable haze of effort that came with magic use. He lay on his belly next to the white mare with the pretty pink hair, the one that Gravity had called 'Fusion'. Light danced in his mind, the tiny glows of spellstuff worming their way through flesh made translucent by his close inspection, pulling and fusing the strands of tissue on each side of the wound.

The trauma spray and wound glue acted together to keep tissue alive until more sophisticated treatment was available. He was intimately familiar with their operation and interaction with pony flesh -- his Masters had been using the stuff on him ever since he'd been able to heal himself -- even the shape of the wound was the same, if a little bigger.

The bonding of the flesh to skull was nearly complete, the various blood vessels matched up with their partners. Lilac was completely focused on the repair, making quick progress having discovered how much easier it was working on another pony. He didn't notice the sharp snap of the cutting head breaching the control room door, nor the carefully contained pulse of magic that smashed aside Gravity's improvised barricade.

Concentrating on the images inside his head, he didn't see the glittering object fly through the open control room windows, something that probably saved his sight. The thing flashed and flickered as it flew, a deliberate ploy to draw the gaze of anyone unfortunate enough to catch a glimpse of it. The projectile exploded with a flash ten times brighter than the noonday sun, a series of closely spaced pulses designed to disrupt the functioning of any complex brain exposed to it.

In that silent, brilliant instant, the shock wave expanded outward at supersonic speeds, arriving a dozen milliseconds after the optical wavefront. The sudden surge in brightness through Lilac’s closed eyes didn’t have time to register before the pressure pulse slapped him viciously across the head and back. His magic died with the flash, arcane feedback adding to the pain that seemed to come from everywhere at once.

Eyes open and almost sightless, he saw the figure fly through the open window, any sound hidden by the howling in his ears, saw the misshapen insectile profile and reacted instinctively, his force field dome manifesting before the creature had landed. A stroboscopic pulse of green, almost unbearably bright, reached out and touched him just forward of his sprawled hind legs.

Something exploded inside his torso, an unbearable burning pain that went from belly to spine, like he’d been impaled on a white-hot spike. Lilac screamed and his field flickered out, the residual magical effort randomising and reemerging as a surge of undirected telekinesis. The kinetic pulse knocked the creature over, spoiling its aim. Lilac, magic still misfiring, tried to keep a hold of it as the weapon tracked towards his body.

Time slowed to a crawl and, try as he might, nothing he did could slow its advance towards his head, his magic sliding off some invisible surface that suddenly lay between them. To one side he could see the cowering shapes of the Masters, collapsed to the floor with paws clamped over their ears, and he knew that they would be next if he failed. At the merest suggestion of the idea, more pain bloomed inside his head. Lilac poured all his strength into stopping that arm, but it was like he was a bug scrabbling at the side of a glass jar; there was nothing to get a grip on.

He saw her come through the window like a bird of prey stooping on some unfortunate rabbit. The blue mare’s wings popped open and she wheeled sharply, eyes flashing a terrible white and light speckled tail streaming out behind her like a flag in a high wind. The metal bar floating at her side snapped forwards to catch the creature’s wrist, striking it hard enough to dent the tough alloy and cause the laser to fly from its grip. It tumbled backwards, landing in an ungainly heap. A cylinder made wholly of metal tubes, attached to the creature just above the hip joint, started to spin rapidly, tracking in his direction.

Lilac raised one clipped wing in an instinctive gesture to ward off the inevitable, still trying to use his magic. His horn glowed fitfully and little glows seemed to dance around the armoured thing, like fireflies bouncing off a window. A surge of power brushed his magic aside, folding the slick bubble of the thing's antimagic defence field inside a sphere of telekinesis. Force levels rose astronomically, lifting the struggling figure off the ground.

The stallion stopped fighting as Gravity’s magic rapidly outstripped anything he’d ever been able to do. He whimpered, turning his attention inwards towards the ragged wound that lanced his belly, looking for somewhere to start. There’s too much damage, he thought, trying to ignore the pain enough to start repairs. Everywhere he looked there were broken and sliced blood vessels, severed nerves and damaged organs. His fragile magic faltered under the continuing battering from the pain, hampered still further by the boom and surge of the blue mare’s own arcane activities.

The shape was being held it at the centre of a globe of crackling violet light, spinning helplessly as Gravity’s magic tried to grip the immaterial surface. The lightning flicker abruptly brightened and collapsed inwards, the figure suddenly going still. The glow faded and the thing seeming to be crumpled and folded, smooth planes and bulges turned into dents and craters. 

Gravity threw the mangled remains out the radiation lock door, so hard that it struck the junction wall at the far end before it hit the ground, then turned and rushed back to the young stallion's side.

Lilac opened his eyes again to see the expression of horror on her face, eyes wide and mouth slack with shock. Help me, he tried to say, but all that came out was a keening whine.

“Oh, Maker, no...” Gravity said.

“I can’t stop it,” Lilac said in a broken voice, his eyes filling up with tears, “there’s too many, what are my Masters going to do without me, the research--“ His voice cut off, eyes rolling back as all the muscles in his head and neck suddenly went taut. 

> 28 - Ask me for anything but time
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist


=== Chapter 28 (remastered): Ask me for anything but time ===


There was blood everywhere. Gravity stared, mesmerised by the fine layer of red that coated everything in a one length circle about the young stallion. There was no cauterisation at all; the laser used a rapid string of nanosecond pulses, each explosively vaporising a tiny patch of flesh and blowing a hoof-wide hole to let the next pulse through. In a microsecond that beam had cut a channel from the underside of one flank to the middle of Lilac's back, just in front of his hips.

The shock only lasted a moment, pushed aside by anger, self recrimination, and the desperate need to do something. Accidents were a fact of life for any pony working in heavy industry, and Gravity had vicariously experienced the actions of many pony heroes stored in the learning centre's crystal archive. Most were of disasters and how the actions of a pony could save lives and protect property, but all emphasised the need for speed. Casting around, her gaze alighted on one of the ubiquitous emergency kits; a flash of magic and it was open and by her side, the contents a confusing jumble of bags and spray cans. This was a kit designed for Masters to use and had instructions in a language she'd not been taught, but the pictograms were clear enough. She'd even received the standard medic courses -- actually having to do it all by herself, though...

Lilac was still under the grips of the Blessing, back arcing and near featherless wings jerking, as the spell reacted to his guilt. Gravity dropped the kit into the spreading pool of blood, equipment and tools for broken limbs, electrical burns or poisoning flicking out and away as she sought the items she needed. Magic closing on the large injury pack, her gaze flicked back to Lilac, trying to decide where to start. What she saw made her heart sink further; only the front half of his body was being afflicted by Punishment. His back legs lay perfectly still, the pale fur dappled with a fine mist of atomised blood.

Gravity picked up a can of trauma spray, the thing looking hopelessly inadequate for the amount of damage, pointed the nozzle into the wound and held the trigger down. Why couldn't I have specialised in healing? she thought, ears folding flat as Lilac gasped and squirmed when she added to his pain by opening the wound channel to get the liquid as deep as possible. His breathing slowed, whimpers dying away, iron-hard muscles relaxing as the anaesthetic part of the spray took hold.

The drugs must have broken the hold the spell had over him, because he stared up at Gravity with frightened eyes, a faint purple glow flickering over his horn. “Tell my Master I'm sorry, but I can’t fix it,” he said miserably, voice faltering, “I don’t know how.”

The mare opened her mouth to say something comforting, but words failed her. Lilac needed a skilled pony medic, preferably a team, working on him night and day. Nothing immediately critical had been hit -- heart, lungs and major blood vessels were all undamaged by the laser strike -- but his back was broken, and there was no way you could poke a hole right through somepony without going through a whole load of gut. “We’ll sort something out, just hang in there,” she said huskily.

Something stabbed at the back of her head, a surge of other magic. Her telekinesis fluctuated, causing the near empty can to crumple in her grip. Shaking her head, Gravity pushed the invading presence away and focused on the next step in the process. A pair of white pads, fat square things with inner surfaces that glittered with a carpet of tiny, needle-like crystals when the protective casing was removed. Gravity's control slipped again when the other returned, bringing with it a cluster of invisible tendrils that seemed to grow up her spine towards her head.

She didn't recognise the spell, but it was obvious that the Security ponies had moved at least one of their number in close enough to act as a spotter and conduit through the open radiation lock door. The magic seemed to be trying to plug into her nervous system and, for a moment, Gravity was reminded of the Blessing. Whatever it was she'd left it too long and it had become established; little flashes of sensation crawled over her skin, rapidly turning to fiery needles that burrowed into her flesh. Fine control vanished and the medic patches slipped from her grasp to lie uselessly on Lilac's flank.

Gravity could feel Lilac's life slipping away; the trauma spray had bought him vital seconds, but wasn't a sole treatment for this level of injury. The decision was agony. Spending the time to remove the spell and prevent further interruptions would save her, but almost certainly doom this youngster.

===

Korn crouched by the wall, watching the tableau. The blue servitor was trying to provide aid for the young stallion, but something was obviously wrong. This one must keep the servitor's good will, he thought, the image of what had happened to the Security trooper burned in his mind. "Let Korn help," he said, voice sounding faint and muffled to his own ears. Beside him, the police officer hissed something urgent sounding, but Korn ignored him and got unsteadily to his knees.

“Do it,” the pony said, swaying as if drunk, then walked with increasing confidence towards the radiation lock. The creature had not escaped the firefight unscathed; burns and minor wounds dotted her body, blood flowing freely from a few of them. Her expression was still determined, though, and the burning light from her horn was painful to look at. Almost to the lock entrance she paused, as if thinking of something for the first time, her head swinging around to stare at the other two People.

If she’d looked fierce before, now all Korn could see was anger. Her eyes had lost their teal colour, filming over with a pure, radiant white. There was a sensation like standing next to a power transformer, and Korn remembered what had happened the last time he’d seen a pony with eyes like that. 

"I will be back, have no doubt,” she said, an almost electronic distortion creeping over the normally melodic servitor tones, then stalked from the room.

Korn stared after her for a moment, then ran over to the stallion's side. He'd never encountered the creature before -- no doubt it was one of hundreds subjected to various levels of research, part of a program trying to unpick exactly what the Creation Stones had done to the original species -- but that was hardly important.

“I’m sorry to cause so much trouble, Master,” the pony said, staring at Korn with hopeless eyes. “I tried to stop the thing, but my magic--“ The words cut off as its jaw locked solid, breath coming in a pained gasp.

Korn winced. This was the biggest problem with the Blessing, the tendency for a servitor to get itself into such a state that it became self-destructive. It was especially an issue with young ones that lacked the perspective of working with the People. This servitor had probably been separated from its kin at a relatively early age and had lived in a laboratory stable since then, all to minimise environmental variables. Carefully instructed and never having had to deal with conflicting orders or People that didn’t have its best interests at heart.

With one paw he held the magically active pad against the gaping wound, running the other around the rim to activate the enchantments within it. The thing glowed a deep red, seeming to sink through the fur as it welded itself to the servitor’s flesh. Korn kept one eye on it -- they were only supposed to be for use on the People, but if Gravity came back and found the stallion dead... He placed his paws on either side of the youngster’s muzzle, forcing it to look him in the eyes. 

“Does this one accept Korn as its Master?” he said, putting as much authority into the words as he could muster, then cursed inside at the tremor in his tone. Beneath his paws he could feel the jaw muscles bunching and relaxing, the big green eyes darting from side to side as if trying to escape.

“I-I-“

The pain in the voice was obvious; intense enough that the drugs in the trauma spray were not suppressing it completely. Korn’s tone became stronger, more assertive -- the so-called ‘voice of command’ taught to those who dealt with servitors on a daily basis. The creature has no communicator, Korn has to sound like he’s in charge, he reminded himself. “This one is Student Korn of the Anomalous Physics Institute. This one is assuming command of the servitor for the duration of this emergency. Does the pony acknowledge temporary transfer of ownership?” he demanded.

The muscles of the young stallion’s head relaxed and he gave a long tremulous sigh. “Yes, Master. What are your orders?” He almost seemed happy.

Korn gave his own sigh, then let his paws drop, picking up the other active bandage and stripping off the protective backing. “The pony is not at fault for any of these events, all of this was outside its experience and skill set.” The stallion nodded gratefully, an adoring look in his eyes. There was a grunting noise from somewhere behind Korn, the sound of someone repeatedly trying to lift something heavy, but he ignored it, intent on making sure the servitor had the best possible chance. ”The pony is ordered to carry out as much healing magic as it can, while this one applies first aid.”

The stallion -- Lilac, Gravity had called it -- nodded reflexively, then gasped at the sudden shriek of metal against stone. Korn looked over his shoulder in time to see the police officer stand up, the spike that had pinned him to the ground clutched in his paws. He was still manacled to the pole, but there was enough play in the joint for him to hold it as a weapon. He started, jumping to his paws. How in the Maker's name did Largorth get free? he thought, then realised Gravity had made a mistake. The floor of the beam chamber was a relatively thin skin sitting on vibration damping supports, and not the heavy concrete she'd obviously thought it was.

“What does the Officer think he’s doing?” Korn said, casting a nervous glance at the radiation lock, where the irregular flicker of violet light was suddenly overwhelmed by a bright flash. Out in the corridor something screamed, in rage or pain, Korn couldn’t tell.

===

The spell was aggressive and insidious, sending spurious signals through her nerves as it climbed up her spine and towards her brain. Gravity staggered into the radiation lock, turning her shadow sight inwards as she unpicked the enchantment. The thing was highly redundant and the other ponies worked to rebuild it as fast as she tore it down; it would have been easy if she hadn’t let it take root, but the weird sensations were making it difficult to concentrate. A tide of pain rolled through her withers and rippled up her neck; with an unexpected surge the magic reached her brain stem and her breathing shuddered to a halt, lungs no longer taking orders.

More pain followed it, her heart slowing its trip-hammer beat and falling into an irregular rhythm as neural pathways were supplanted. They are going to kill me, Gravity thought, the idea almost earth-shattering in its implications, despite all she’d done up to this point. I can’t fight it like this. Synaesthesia was starting to take hold; the violet flare of her magic had the taste of copper, strong and tingling, while the smell of blood and explosives filled the corridor with the electrical crackle of a high voltage arc.

Giving up on the complexity, she focused instead on the pony powering it. Twisted threads led to a figure surrounded by an orange aura, from whom the threads unravelled, fanning out as they headed down the corridor. A movement caught her attention and her force field came on, diverting a hail of gunfire from the end of the corridor -- not just the rattle of a gryphon’s rifle, but the high speed rip-roar of a power suit’s rotary cannon. Gravity tried to gasp at the sudden extra effort needed to keep the field up, but there was no air. Stumbling, she fell down behind a pile of rubble. 

The fire cut off abruptly and the mare dropped her field again, abandoning her failing defence to lash out at the pony with the orange magic. No longer slowed by her countermeasures, the spell leapt up her neck and caused her awareness to splinter into a dozen disconnected fragments, just as her own strike went home. There was a high pitched pony scream and Gravity’s mind snapped back into focus, the hostile magic falling apart as its controlling will and power source was cut off.

The blue mare took a great, shuddering breath, shaking off the clinging remnants of the spell while sheltered from direct gunfire. Oh, Maker, I'm sorry, she thought. That would have hurt the others a great deal; all that effort with nowhere to go. A small black object flew over the top of the rubble pile on dragonfly wings, swerving to arrow in her direction. Without thinking she crushed it, throwing the crumpled machine back the way it came. Heartbeat back to its normal rhythm, Gravity gritted her teeth and pulled lumps of rock from the rubble pile, lifting them up to form a whirling mass between her and her attackers.

More shots, the same monster scream of the rotary, but this time accompanied by the crack of larger explosives and the green flash of a laser that lit the dusty tunnel like it was the inside of a lighting tube. Should have done that first, Gravity thought with a hysterical little giggle. Her sightline was completely blocked by flying rocks, but that didn't matter.

With the crack-crack-crack of sonic booms, Gravity pushed some of her rocks towards the purple glows of active antimagic fields. The owners of those glows were already moving, falling back after they saw the futility of their ambush, but not fast enough. Lumps of concrete, reduced to shotgun blasts of pebbles by the extreme acceleration, smashed through the corridor walls like so much paper. Both antimagic fields went dead.

Gravity trotted forwards into the murk, occasionally using her wings to glide over parts of the collapsed ceiling. Another few steps and the smell hit her, the metallic tang of blood combining with the foulness of offal to overpower the muzzle-wrinkling odour of spent explosives. The first body was sprawled in an ungainly heap against a pile of rubble, burnished copper wings tattered and spread across the wreckage. One of her metal bars had struck the gryphon just under his shoulder, passing through his body to leave several hoof-widths of bloody steel emerging from his side. Blood and armour fragments had exploded from the exit wound, leaving the pale concrete black and glistening in her violet horn light.

Gravity averted her eyes, but behind the first was another, this one with her head crushed by a hoof-sized metal ball that had stoved in her helmet, just above the visor. Blood had sprayed from the gryphoness' gaping beak and her big yellow eyes stared accusingly back at the mare. Gravity felt her stomach lurch and her head start to spin. Steady, she thought, they were trying to kill you. This wasn't like the Masters, though. No clean illusion of broken machines that let the mind distance itself from the hard reality of shattered bone and blood splashed up the walls.

Beyond that was the pony. She'd been behind one of the rubble piles, out of direct line of sight of the lock door; when the magic had hit, her legs had given out and she'd dropped like a discarded toy. Gravity felt the breath woof out of her like she'd been kicked in the gut; her legs trembled and threatened to send her to her knees next to the dead mare.

It was the first time Gravity had seen one of the Security ponies. Dressed like the gryphons, with scaly armour that made her seem insectile and festooned with packs and panniers, little could be seen of the mare inside. The tip of her horn and muzzle, both a pale orange, were the only parts of her body not covered by ceramic plates and, if it wasn't for the circumstances, Gravity could almost have convinced herself that the mare had fallen asleep.

A closer look dispelled any such illusion. Her eyes, visible through the clear domes on each side of her helmet, were wide and staring, still holding a trace of the pain she must have felt when the arcane backlash had hit. Tracks of blood, nearly black in this light, ran from the corners of her eyes to soak into the fur of her muzzle. Oh, dear Maker, I-- The thought died as the sick realisation hit Gravity. She'd seen the way the pony's magic had vanished, but had refused to believe that she'd done anymore than knock the other pony out.

Did you have foals? A mate who will be waiting for you? A black fury welled up inside her, not directed outwards, but in at herself. I should have found a way, all this power and I couldn't hold off a few ponies. What use is any of this if I can't save them? A tentative touch of magic from somewhere ahead brought Gravity out of her reverie; it wasn't directed at her, but was feeling the space left by the orange mare. Her anger faded to be replaced with a great sadness. A working herd is a close-knit thing, she thought, remembering the group she'd joined at the launch site. Ponies she'd just started to make friends with, and whom she'd probably never see again.

She leaned down and gently brushed muzzles with the dead mare, the flesh still warm to the touch. I'm sorry, she thought, you had no choice, but I didn't have to kill you. Lifting her head, Gravity sniffed back her tears and headed towards where the magic had come from.

The urgency of the situation drove the mare onwards, thoughts of Lilac, life leaking away on the floor of the beam chamber, keeping the guilt at bay. She kept a close watch over the various potential threats, holding a small force field plane in front of her as a shield behind the now diminished cloud of rocks that still circled, shark-like, a little further forward. The remaining Security ponies were still recovering from the arcane shock and were unable to interfere in any meaningful way; one tried to fight her, but without the help of his fellows it was trivial to hold him at bay.

The end of the corridor was total chaos. To the left was a rubble pile that occupied half the height of the passageway, behind which were two of the Security ponies, both collapsed and moving their heads unsteadily, as if drugged. Behind that was an impromptu aid station, injured gryphons tending those more severely hurt than themselves. To the right was another mound of rubble, smaller than the first, with the upper torso of a Master in a battered armoured suit protruding from it. Two more ponies were behind that, one collapsed like the other two, the last one completely unconscious and sprawled on the floor some distance away. 

The blank wall at the very end of the corridor must have abutted one of the heavy support pillars the upper levels rested upon. Unlike the relatively light side walls, this was a vastly stronger structure made of multiple layers of metal fibre reinforced concrete, and hadn't failed under the onslaught of high velocity rock and machine parts Gravity had sent its way. This was where the Master that had shot Lilac ended up.

The armour suit was made of the best and toughest materials the People could devise, and that was the reason it was still possible to identify it for what it was. The unreasonably strong alloy that formed its frame was still intact despite the impact, but if the occupant hadn't died when Gravity had crushed the suit in her telekinesis, he was definitely dead now. Accelerated to nearly half the speed of sound over less than two lengths, the powered armour had been smashed into the concrete so thoroughly that the mare had trouble telling where the suit stopped and the pillar began. Large cracks radiated out from the vertical crater, probably putting the upper floors at risk of collapse.

Gravity stared at the mangled remains for a moment; compared to the obvious flesh and blood of the others she'd killed, this was scarcely recognizable as a once living being. Faced with such a death, she felt nothing other than it wasn't enough. She wanted to pull the thing out of the wall, to smash and pound and rend until there was nothing left. He was defenceless, she thought, fighting down her anger, I hope you felt every microsecond. 

Gravity turned her gaze towards the most awake looking Security pony. The sweat caked dust and grime, coupled with the armour the stallion wore, made it almost impossible to tell his original colour, but for a few patches on his horn. She could just see his eyes through the helmet visor, bulging domes of transparent material on each side of his head that gave him the appearance of a blind fish. He gaped up at her, mouth working before he finally managed to speak.

"W-why?" The voice was hoarse with pain and confusion, barely recognisable as coming from a pony. 

The mare paused, at a sudden loss of what to say that could ever justify what she'd just done to this poor Blessed creature. She reached out with her magic and gently unsnapped the connectors joining the muzzle guard and visor to the gorget, pulling the whole thing free from the pony's head. It had only been a day since Fusion had stripped the Maker’s Touch from her, leaving her head as empty as that of a foal. Much less time than that since she’d accepted her sister’s new view of the world. 

What would it take to convince this pony, she thought, one used to oppressing his own kind? What atrocity would he have to witness after I remove his Blessing? Gravity shivered, the thought had a kind of instinctive revulsion attached to it, then pushed past her immediate reaction. Something else I need to learn how to do. She stared hard into the pony’s eyes. “My Blessing was removed. The world looks different without that little voice in your ear. What is your name?”

The stallion’s ears twitched and he whimpered; for a moment Gravity thought she’d lost him to punishment fugue, but he quickly recovered. “B-Bastion WK9915," he said. "I’m so sorry, I don't blame you for Parapet; I can’t imagine what it must be like to have lost the Maker’s Touch. Come with us, we can set things right.”

Parapet, a name for my first victim. How many more will follow you? Gravity thought, then gave the stallion a twisted smile as the absurdity of his statement sank in. “I have seen the extent of the Master’s mercy, and I will not put myself in that position.” Her smile faded. I must convince them to leave, she thought, conscious that she’d left Fusion and Lilac alone for too long already, it’s either that or hurt them badly enough that they can’t interfere. The idea sat in her head like a mountain, a solid cliff wall that seemed impassable. 

"I'm so sorry for your friend, I did not want--" she broke off, shaking her head. This is not you any more. Show no weakness, she thought. “You cannot stop me,” she said flatly.

He recognized it for a statement of fact, rather than a question. “No.” The answer caused him obvious pain. Tears started to dampen the fur of his muzzle, dripping off his cheeks and streaking the dust caking the front of his armour.

Behind him was a movement; one of the gryphons had levered himself up onto shaky forelegs, struggling to bring a discarded rifle to bear on Gravity. The mare’s horn, already glowing from the other magics she was still powering, brightened infinitesimally as she pulled it from his grasp and twisted it into metal junk. The gryphon shied away from the distorted, sparking mass, trying to drag his twisted hindquarters further from the discharging superconductors. 

Gravity raised her voice, addressing all of the Security force. “I will let you leave, all of you. You will take nothing but yourselves and the wounded, leave everything else here, exiting via the upper mass transit route. I assume somepony has medical training?" Bastion nodded vigorously, suddenly looking alert and worried. "Good," Gravity said, flicking her ears in return. "You will come with me, and will leave with the Masters I hold in the beam chamber.”

This prompted some mutinous looks and muttering from the gryphons, but the green pony lying at her hooves didn’t hesitate. “We will do it,” he said, as he struggled up to all fours. A green nimbus flickered around his panniers and armour set, various components falling free and sliding off his body as he stepped forwards. A shake of the wings lost the carapace, and he trotted down the corridor in front of Gravity. She followed him, keeping one ear cocked to listen to sounds of other ponies dropping their equipment and the suddenly angry voices of the gryphon troops. 

The ponies answered in kind, at which point the gryphons made the mistake of assuming that the normally skittish ponies would follow their orders when Master’s lives were at stake. Varicoloured light shone up the corridor behind the blue mare, the gryphons eventually falling silent when they realised that the ponies just weren’t listening.

In the silence, Gravity heard other raised voices, these ones from the beam chamber in front of her.

===

Fusion couldn't get the taste of iron out of her mouth.

The stinging slap of the shockwave had taken her completely by surprise, leaving her stunned and the world muffled as if behind layers of heavy cloth. Awareness of her body was slow to return; it was just as loose and unresponsive as it had been when she’d been drugged, and the inability to change position or scratch an itch was a rising torment. Her head, unlike the rest of her, was under the influence of the trauma spray and felt like a block of wood. Considering how much the surgery had hurt, this was not something that she saw as a problem.

Magic was equally distant; there was the faintest hint of something where her power should have been, but so vague and dispersed that it was like trying to catch fog with a net. That she could still sense the sun, just had no way to actually open the connection, made it doubly frustrating.

Her thoughts went back to Gravity. The sharing connection had died abruptly a few moments after she'd stepped out of the beam chamber for the first time and the other mare had been too distracted to renew it. Fusion had grown used to looking through her sister's eyes, used to the echo of sound passed through an extra brain on the way to her own, that tenth of a second lag between her ears and Gravity’s.

Instead, Fusion was forced to rely solely on sound, trying to piece together what was happening in the corridor. Come back to me, sister, she thought, listening to the rattle and boom of projectiles trying to take the mare’s life, take no chances.

With half an ear she listened to Korn making sure Lilac would accept him as his Master, the stern tones and formal wording bringing back old memories of her own training, but her mind was on what was happening outside. The gryphons were still shooting, meaning Gravity was still fighting back, but the biggest threat would be the Masters and the Security ponies. What would I do if forced to hurt another pony, one that had no choice but to attack me? The idea was distressing, and she felt her heartbeat and breathing accelerate. There were ways to stop another’s magic, but that generally required a gentle touch to avoid feedback; such things would be hard to manage under attack from multiple enemies.

“What does the Officer think he’s doing?” Korn said, and Fusion was suddenly on edge, aware of another presence close by. Somepony screamed out in the corridor, making her jump, but it wasn’t Gravity.

Come back to me, Gravity, she thought nervously, I don’t like this.

“Korn did a good job of keeping it distracted, now these ones can escape.” For a moment Fusion had trouble placing that voice, then realised it must be the police officer.

Good, go. Save us the trouble of deciding what to do with you. That particular decision had been preying on Fusion ever since they’d started to collect Masters; the only way to really make a clean break would be to kill them, then destroy the facility to hide their escape. Even after all that had been done to her she didn’t think she could do it in cold blood. No, there has to be another way.

"Is Largorth insane? Does he know what will happen if he tries to leave?”

"Then this one will just have to give the servitor something else to worry about, rather than chasing the People.”

Fusion had a sudden premonition of what he was talking about. No, please, not like this! Her breathing accelerated further and her heart pounded under the influence of a useless fight/flight reaction. Something moved her wing, then she let out an involuntary grunt as someone stepped on her flank. 

“Just about..."

The cold tip of something metallic traced a line through the fur along her ribs, tapping twice just behind her forelegs. Please, don’t do this, we’d have let you go, left you behind and teleported away... Her thoughts tailed away into a whine, nerves singing with the anticipation.

“...here.”

The hammer blow made something crack inside her chest, flooding her body with pain and stunning the muscles enough that she couldn’t draw her next breath.

===

Lilac could feel the enchanted dressing start to help him heal; it would never be able to fix his gut -- that would require a real veterinarian -- but it gave him the time to focus on the thousand other broken and damaged things, preserving his own life as he'd been ordered. He started to feel a little hope; if the Master said that he could be fixed, then it must be so. He worked his magic with a will, sealing, repairing and merging blood vessels so that he’d have the best chance at an infirmary. With some fraction of his awareness he could hear the Masters talking, angry and frightened, but he had his orders and paid them no heed.

There was a grunt from the white pony behind him, then the sound of a heavy impact on flesh. Shocked away from his magic, Lilac looked up just in time to see the enemy Master, one booted paw on Fusion's flank, raise the bar he'd been manacled to above his head. The stallion's eyes grew large and he flicked his gaze to his Master's face. The Student’s expression was one of horror, and that was enough for Lilac. He’d not had much in the way of a formal education and his only lessons were half remembered hints at the back of his mind, but he had the same near instinctive desire to follow his Master’s orders, even if they were only implied.

Lilac fastened his telekinesis around the metal bar, the sudden immobility of it making Largorth give a wordless cry. “Let this one go!” he shouted then, when Lilac ignored him, directed his anger at Korn. ”Control that creature,” he snarled at Korn, “this is our chance to escape.” Still hanging on to the bar, Largorth lifted the boot he had on Fusion’s side, stamping down on the place he’d struck with the bar. The mare gave an odd bubbling cough, little drops of blood spraying from her muzzle. 

Korn’s open mouth snapped shut with an audible click of teeth. “Hold the Officer still,” he said hoarsely, but Lilac had already picked Largorth up and levitated him a quarter length in the air. Korn picked up a roll of sealing tape, pulling out a long strip as he stepped over to the floating Master. Lilac obligingly cut the bar free and folded Largorth's arms so his paws pressed against his chest.

“Korn will never see the outside of prison again if he does this,” Largorth said, muzzle wrinkling and pulling lips back from big canine teeth. 

The Student gave a shaky laugh as he started to loop the tape around Largorth’s chest, binding his arms to his body. “The criminal justice system can fight with Security for Korn’s prison time; he suspects he will vanish as soon as this is over.”

Lilac’s confusion mounted, the certainty he’d felt when Korn had declared himself his owner bleeding away. “Master? I don’t understand. Is Officer Largorth not an agent for another Hive?”

Korn froze, as the implications of what he’d just said sank in. “He--“

“No, this one is not an enemy agent!” Largorth said quickly, mouth parting in a feral grin. "The pony has been lied to by this criminal."

Lilac stared at Korn, willing his Master to provide an explanation for this disturbing information, but the Student just stared back at him, mouth half open and a look of horror on his face. He’d not had time to get used to the Student’s body language, so couldn’t read him as well as the scientists who normally gave him his orders, but what he could see was clear. The awful truth dawned on Lilac; his new Master and these other ponies had manipulated him. 

If the Officer isn’t an enemy, then I’ve held one of the People captive for no reason, he thought, breathing accelerating and panic flooding his mind. Pain spiked inside his head and he gently put the Master down, pulling off the tape and unbending the improvised cuffs. Hooves scrabbling on the concrete, he tried to drag himself away from Fusion in an attempt to distance himself from one of the ponies who... “Master, please forgive me, I had no way to know--“

Largorth frowned down at him and the pain surged into an all consuming tide that bent his back like a bow and filled his mind with static.

===

“Don’t get any ideas,” Gravity shouted to Bastion, leaping over his head, wings flicking out and beating with delicate little flutters as she skimmed over the rubble towards the beam chamber. Too long, I left them alone too long, she thought, already imagining all the horrors that could be perpetrated on her helpless sister and the wounded Lilac. Behind her Bastion did the same, fighting to keep up with the smaller and more manoeuvrable Gravity.

The blue mare fell through the opening in the radiation lock door, wings flashing shut then open again. Before her was what she had feared; Korn was struggling with the far more heavily built Largorth for control of a metal bar, the same one she'd used as a ground stake. Lilac was lying on his side, breath whistling through clenched teeth, forelegs kicking weakly and blood soaking through the dressing covering the hole in his belly. 

Her horn flashed and pulled the two Masters apart, holding them high enough that a fall would be dangerous. This immediately got their attention and both fell silent with little gasps. The Security pony entered the room a second later, his own telekinesis reaching out for the suspended figures. “Put them down!” he said, futilely trying to loosen Gravity’s hold.

“Do what you’re here for, make sure the stallion lives,” Gravity said, not taking her gaze from the pair.

“Let them down first, or--“

“Or you’ll let an innocent pony suffer? I don’t think so.” As she said the words, Gravity realised the stupidity of the statement; of course a Master's safety would come first. She pulled them both down to ground level, picking up the discarded roll of tape as she did so. Behind her the Security pony knelt down next to Lilac and swept his body with a plane of green light.

“Just so you don’t get your hopes up. Although I am a multispecies combat medic, full reconstruction of a wound like this is beyond me,” he murmured, eyes closed and concentrating on what his magic was showing him. “This pony needs the attention of a general practitioner, and will do for days, before completely healed. I can stabilize him, but without that he will slowly starve.” Part of his attention was diverted by the medical section of the emergency kit; picking up a single use injector he applied it to Lilac's throat. The young stallion immediately relaxed, the agony of Punishment washed away by powerful drugs.

Gravity paused from where she was winding tape around the arms and legs of Korn and Largorth, her anger fading to a sick sense of despair. “I understand,” she said, then cut the tape and started to bind Korn’s wrists to his ankles. Where are we going to find a willing medic? Anypony we meet will turn us in without a second thought. 

"May I instruct the rest of my team to start pulling out the wounded and dead?"

"Yes. Remember what I said about equipment; they can pile that outside the radiation lock." Gravity pushed the two Masters against the wall, turning to Vanca and pulling off another strip of tape. The Academician shrank away from her, paws slipping in the concrete as she tried to push herself through the wall. There was a wet, bubbling cough from somewhere behind her and the mare froze, magic forming around the scientist's ankles. Gravity's eyes shot to the discarded metal bar, connecting the noise to the scene she'd interrupted. No, not just in time, just too late! she thought, cursing silently for not checking Fusion first.

Dropping the tape, she leapt to her sister's side, placing one ear against her chest. The normal hissing sounds of moving air, so familiar from when she was a little filly with the habit of sleeping with her head resting on Fusion's flank, were gone. Instead it sounded like somepony trying to suck up the last dregs of a thick drink through a straw. Under her cheek, the hard ridges of Fusion's ribs felt queasily soft and flexible.

Gravity reared back as Fusion coughed again, dark liquid spraying from her nostrils. "Bastion, check my sister, quickly!" The Security pony's head jerked up, confused for a second, then his eyes narrowed at the sight of blood dripping from Fusion's mouth. Green light swept along her body, pausing at mid chest height.

The glow from his horn intensified, worms of light running over Fusion's blood caked fur. Something flexed under her skin, bones moving and stretching before settling back into their correct positions. More flickers of light, these concentrated over the damaged area. "The bone is set, and I've done a patch job on her lung," he said, frowning, the expression of a professional forced to do a rushed and imperfect job, "but she will need time to heal. Those ribs are still very weak. The same applies to the punctured lung; too much excitement and it will go again."

"Do as much as you can," Gravity said, anger making her voice rough, "help her with the pain -- but keep her conscious," she added, when Bastion reached for another drug injector.

"It will be uncomfortable for her," he said, still distracted by his magic, "but I will do what you ask."

Gravity nodded, turning her gaze on the two bound Masters. "Did I not say I would return?" she said with quiet menace. "Did you not think there would be consequences if you did something stupid?" Gravity felt her anger rising and did nothing to stop it. "Every time I tell myself to show mercy, that you cannot all be the same, something like this happens." She lifted the police officer, still bound, up to head height with a circle of magic about his throat. "My sister, the pony you tried to beat to death, wanted me to show restraint," she spat the last word, making the band of magic expand and tilt his head back at an increasingly painful angle. “What possible reason do I have for that?”

"If you hurt him, our agreement is off," Bastion said from where he lay next to Fusion and Lilac.

Gravity hissed through her teeth, relaxing her telekinetic grip a little. A glance showed her that the other pony was serious; the little worms of magic had ceased to flow over Fusion. Instead, Gravity could feel him focusing his strength in an attempt to stop her. It was the look of fear and determination on his face that settled it. He knows he can't beat me, yet he will try anyway, she thought, her anger evaporating to be replaced with a bone-deep weariness. What choice do I have? I need him.

She dropped the Officer to the floor, hard enough that he gasped and Bastion twitched, magic reaching out with the instinctive desire to catch him. Gravity stared down at the coughing Master, using one hoof to roll him onto his back. "This is your lucky day. That pony just saved your life." She pressed down on his chest with the hoof, feeling his ribs flex under her weight. The breath wheezed out of him and she narrowed her eyes. A little more and... Terror filled his face and Gravity reined in her anger. "Pray to the Maker that we don't meet again," she said, stepping back.

Behind her the Security pony gave a little involuntary whinny, then let out a long breath. "Thank you, I knew you hadn't turned completely away from the Make--" He stopped abruptly when he saw the look on Gravity's face. "Thank you," he finished lamely, closing his eyes and returning to his healing spells.

The blue mare struggled to get a grip on her emotions while he worked. "How much more can you do? I want to talk with my sister." she asked finally. How much longer before they can mount a response to what I've done here? she thought. I can't imagine what sort of panic this has caused. 

Bastion reluctantly opened his eyes, glancing over at the three Masters, all of whom were staring back at him with great intensity. He shuddered under the weight of those eyes, starting to breathe heavily as he clumsily got to his hooves. “I am not a general practitioner; while I could do a little more, I’m really at the end of my skill here. They will both live -- the mare will recover fully, given time and peace, the stallion...” He looked down at Lilac, sighing deeply. “...needs far more help than he’s likely to be allowed.”

Gravity’s own ears flattened and she chewed at her lower lip. Bastion has seen many injured ponies, she thought, how many has he helped to euthanize, how many were deemed ‘not worth saving’? “How long before...?”

“A day or so of good health with minimal pain, after which my fixes will do more harm than good and he’ll go down hill quickly.” His horn glowed slightly, lifting three single use injectors out of his own medical kit. Covered in black and yellow stripes, they looked like giant wasps, complete with stinger under a protective cap. He held them out to the blue mare, close enough that she could see the pony skull poison symbols. “For the end, whenever it happens.”

One each, Gravity thought blackly, gripping them with her own magic. “I am not ready to die just yet,” she said, crushing the devices and throwing the remains across the room.

Bastion followed their trajectory, his ears drooping. "I didn't think so." He pulled out a fourth euthanization injector, placing it on the ground next to Lilac, then dropped his own medical kit near it. "The stallion... it's not a peaceful way to go," he said, standing up and walking to the radiation lock. "I'm sorry."

Gravity watched him go, then carefully picked up the injector and put it back in the medical kit. "Me too," she whispered.

> 29 - A precautionary measure (1)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist


=== Chapter 29 (remastered): A precautionary measure (1) ===


Gravity watched with a twinge of uncertainty as Vanca, Korn and Largorth were untied and gently helped to their paws by Bastion, then tried to convince herself that this was the right thing to do. It's not like having you stopped Security from smashing down my door, is it? Unlike the other two, Korn actually seemed slightly reluctant, and for a moment Gravity wondered what use she could put a 'tame' Master to, then snorted quietly. How could he be anything but trouble?

"Don't forget that I will be watching. Any serious deviation..." she said, trotting over to stand next to the little group. That was her real worry; there had only been four Masters recovered. The fifth suit had been empty, its occupant escaping into the complex and away from the fighting. Bastion had sworn that he would not follow an order to come back, but it didn't hurt to make sure he understood she was serious. It was easy to make such a promise, but the urge to obey was very strong, even in the face of extreme danger.

He nodded vigorously, ears folding back. "You won't see us again, I promise."

"Any last ditch heroics will end very badly for everypony. Just to be clear; I won't try to hurt you, the first thing I will do is kill the Masters, starting with that one." Gravity raised a hoof and tapped Largorth on the chest, causing him to take a nervous step backwards. "Actually, no I won't. I will pull off his arms." She glowered at the Officer, half wishing she could do that right now, then her desire for revenge faded as what she'd just promised to do sank in. Bastion winced and she felt a little ill, but the threat seemed to have hit home. You might be ordered to ignore a dead Master, but one bleeding to death and screaming his lungs out should be a powerful deterrent, she thought.

"I will go into fugue before following an order to return, believe me," Bastion said fervently, looking more than a little ill himself.

Gravity nodded, and watched as the little group hurried down the corridor to join the remaining gryphons and ponies. All of their equipment, with the exception of a small amount of medical gear, was piled up just inside the beam chamber, after Bastion had assured her that none of the explosives were armed. She'd used her magic to check, but at this point she trusted him. 

The mare ignored the military hardware and dropped to the floor next to Fusion, unmindful of the still damp pool of blood that surrounded her and Lilac. Keeping part of her awareness focussed on the departing Security forces, she cast the modified sharing spell, frowning when there was no response from her sister. In the quiet she could clearly hear the rapid panting of Fusion's breathing, so different from Lilac's slow and steady drugged cadence. Carefully, as if the slightest pressure could break her partially healed ribs, Gravity laid her head against her sister's chest and listened to her heart. 

It was like Fusion was at a full gallop, heart pounding fit to burst, so loud that Gravity could hear it even after she lifted her head back. Oh, my sister, I took too long in getting back to you, she thought, trying the sharing again and getting the same result. The mare bit her lip; it was obvious that Fusion was deep in the middle of some kind of panic attack brought on by her injuries and sensory deprivation. Come on, you need to cooperate for this to work.

She tried again, to just as little effect, then started to play with the spell's pattern, looking for a way to attract Fusion's attention. Despite only learning the spell from that half remembered nightmare session back in the orchard, Gravity began to realise that she seemed to have a near instinctive understanding for this kind of subtle magic. She carefully modified the pattern, watching for any feedback from her sister's mind. Something seemed to be happening, then suddenly the sharing environment she'd created -- a quiet, sun-dappled glade with a small pool that was a popular play area when they were both foals and had the time -- blossomed around her.

Gravity fine tuned the memory to make it as restful as possible, clearing the water of mud and removing clumps of bramble. She looked around, but her sister was not immediately visible. Despite the fact that this place was hers, and that every aspect was under her direct control, she had no need to use this power to find Fusion. The blue mare trotted over to a large clump of overhanging bushes, dropped down to a crouch and wriggled through the dense branches and into the hollow space within.

In the dim green space was Fusion, huddled against the twisted mass of roots that supported the old bush. Gravity paused briefly at the sight; the full-grown bulk of her sister was wedged into a space only really suitable for a youngster or two. It should have been funny, but instead just made her want to cry. This bush had been a favourite hiding place for generations of foals -- Fusion had been one of those late developers, suffering uncontrollable surges of magic well past the normal age. There had been a certain amount of teasing from her peer group and a few overheard whispers from adults, enough to worry a filly with an active imagination. 

Gravity stared at her sister, distant and mostly forgotten memories resurfacing. "The constant--" Let's call it what it was, she thought. "--brainwashing that you had to be the best for the Masters didn't help, either," she murmured. Like any foal, she'd felt a little of that stress herself, the fear of failing those she'd been put here to serve. Fusion had come through it, like most had, and gone on to great things. The mare pushed the thought aside, laying down in the little space and unfurling a wing over the white and pink bundle.

The shape contracted slightly at her touch, and there was a whimper from somewhere under one white wing. "It's okay," she whispered, poking her muzzle past tangled flight feathers and into the darkness around Fusion's head. "You're safe now, they've all gone." Gravity ran her wing along Fusion's spine in long, slow strokes.

The touch seemed to calm the other mare, penetrating the panic and relaxing her rigid muscles. There was movement in the darkness and Gravity pulled her head back to allow her sister to sit upright. Tremors ran through this mental representation of her body, an expression of internal distress that the drugs wouldn't let her real body show.

Fusion was wide-eyed and breathing fast, gaze darting left and right before settling on Gravity. She let out a shuddering sigh, tears starting to make tracks through the fur along her muzzle. "Why did you leave me alone with them, I thought--" she said in a small voice.

"The Security ponies rallied," Gravity said, leaning forward to embrace her sister in a fierce hug, "they managed to get a nasty spell through my defences. I had to put a stop to it." Another few seconds and they'd have had me, she thought, but kept that to herself. 

"After you went out and I lost the connection to you, all I had was sound. The explosions and gunfire, and, and the pain in your voice..." The white mare's own words were muffled from where she had buried her head under Gravity's wing. "...then I heard them talking about me, talking about doing something to hurt you through me, I..." She paused, voice changing to a thready whisper. "I'm so tired of this, Gravity. I just want it all to end."

Unable to move, unable to see, just hearing and an imagination primed with the horrors she already witnessed, Gravity thought, filling in the silence. "I'm here now, and I'll never leave you like that again," she said, putting as much conviction into her words as she could. "Listen, I've bought us some time. It will take the Security team a while to get themselves out of the Institute, but we shouldn't waste it."

Fusion lifted her head, wiping her eyes along the leading edges of her wings. "Yes, I'm sorry." She gave Gravity a weak smile. "I'll be alright. Show me the last thing you remember and we'll start from there."

Gravity called up the teleportation spell's pattern and let the shape twist and writhe in the green space between the leaves. "So, tell me again about how you integrate the destination co-ordinates..." 

===

Filter mask over his muzzle and pistol in one paw, Captain Rthar trotted carefully through the ruins of the Institute, heading back towards the surface entrance. Aside from mask and gun, he was as naked as the day he'd been born; you didn't wear anything in an armour suit, and there was no way he was going to try and restart the thing. He risked a quick flash with the torch integrated into the pistol, memorizing the room layout before starting off again. Around a corner, something glowed with a purple light.

--the corridor, visible through a series of ragged holes, lit up a deep violet, like he was next to the world’s biggest excimer laser. The Captain threw up an arm to protect his eyes, but enough of the glare leaked through to leave dazzling afterimages, one of which was the distorted bipedal shape of another armour suit. The shape, burning with a nimbus of violet fire, flickered past the opening so fast that he almost thought it was an optical illusion--

Rthar shivered at the memory, swallowing hard. Getting out of the clinging embrace of his suit was a little like being a caterpillar emerging from a chrysalis; seeing that white-eyed, violet glowing apparition of a pony stalking up the corridor towards the remainder of his troops had been a wonderful impetus. He turned the corner, the source of the light became apparent. Just some damaged terminal, he thought, trying to see past the glare of the screen. Something was moving in the deep shadows, something quadrupedal--

His gun came up, finger already tightening on the trigger. This one will go down fighting, he thought, then yelped in surprise as a green glow froze his paw and gently removed the pistol from his grasp. The light brightened, illuminating a sorry looking group of gryphons and ponies. In the middle of the group were three People, two of whom Rthar recognised. Vanca had her arm in an improvised sling and seemed to be trying to get as far away from the servitors as she could. Korn appeared to have his paws tied behind his back and was being held by a third individual who Rthar didn't know. Must be this 'Officer Largorth', he thought, remembering the final intel updates before everything went wrong.

"Sorry, Master, but we must not attract the rogue's attention. She said she would be watching, and I will not allow you to put the lives of the other People at risk," Bastion said, his voice trembling slightly.

"The pony will not--" Rthar started, then saw the look of misery on Bastion's face. What was it to do? he thought, then started speaking again, his tone gentle. "The pony is correct, there is nothing that these ones can do. Under what terms were the hostages released?"

The green stallion's head came up, relief obvious. "We are to connect with the Security group at the upper transit hub. No deviation is allowed, otherwise she will come after us." With a pleading look, Bastion returned the pistol to Rthar.

Rthar nodded slowly. "Then these ones should start moving." While they walked, he searched the gryphons, trying to determine who was left alive. "Sersjant Ellisif Inga, what is the squad's status?" he said, staring at the top of the gryphoness' grey feathered head. Her eyes met his for the first time since he'd rejoined what was left of the assault team, and for a moment she just looked at him blankly, her gaze hollow and distant. 

"Six confirmed dead. Two non ambulatory and in critical condition," she said, training taking over and eyes regaining their focus. "The remaining three all have some level of injury, but these are not life threatening. I am the only one who escaped without harm." Her voice grew bitter, falling to a whisper that was probably not intended to be heard. "My weapon was damaged during the initial attack and I couldn't return fire."

Rthar nodded. Over her shoulder he could see a pair of gryphons floating in a yellow telekinetic field, little worms of light moving over each one in turn as the pony carrying them divided his medical attention between them. Behind that was a collection of black bags and a floating lump of rock that appeared to contain an armour suit. "All the equipment was left behind?"

"Yessir, that was part of the conditions," Ellisif said, glancing quickly back at Bastion and the rest of the ponies. All were busy carrying or assisting the dead and wounded, but the gryphoness extended her stride, gesturing for Rthar to follow her. One they were a few lengths distant, she reached up to her throat and felt under the feathers, unsnapping the comms band that took the place of a command collar for the more experienced NCOs. "Managed to hide it. Non thaumic," she murmured.

Rthar nodded in thanks and took it from her claws, pressing the throat mic into his neck while jamming the ill-fitting earbud into place. Neither device was designed for use by the People, but at a pinch...

Taking a deep breath, he fumbled with the controls and opened a link to the drone network. Those little robots, each one a cross between a sensor platform and a communications node, had not proven to be the reliable systems he was used to. Hardened against normal levels of magic, the network had comprehensively crashed when the servitor had attacked, that first pulse of magic way outside their design specifications and causing spontaneous reboots, effectively cutting their link to the outside world. 

"Pilot Namak, do you copy?" the Captain subvocalised. Please, tell this one that the dropship is still there.

"Captain? What in the Maker's name is going on down there? This one has only just started to get telemetry again; when the team went offline, this one assumed--"

"Nearly was. Get this one an uplink to Security control."

"This is Sector Chief Orgon. This one has been monitoring events. What is the Captain's analysis?"

Rthar recognised the Sector Chief's voice and felt a slight wash of relief. He'd been half afraid he'd have to fight through five layers of bureaucracy. "The mission is fucked, and if the servitor decides we're deviating from its conditions, what's left of the team is fucked as well."

There was a moment's frigid silence, and the Captain felt an extra twinge of fear, despite his situation. Orgon had quite a reputation and he'd likely find some way to display his irritation at the unprofessional nature of the report. His lips peeled back in a grim smile. The Sector Chief can get fucked too, he thought, but suppressed the urge to say that out loud. "The servitor has killed or incapacitated all of the gryphons and all of the People. Arcane suppression by a standard herd of Security ponies was not effective. The rogue seems to hold a particular grudge against the People; despite what the psychologist said about the long term effects of the conditioning, it sought them out for special attention. The hostages are alive and mostly unharmed" he said in clipped tones." Did so little telemetry get through? he thought, suppressing the urge to scream invective at Orgon.

"Recommendations?" The Sector Chief's voice was as calm as it always was.

"The mission is a total failure. This one will not be able to stop the servitor if it decides to leave." The Captain rolled his eyes at that. This one should be renamed Captain Obvious, he thought in disgust, if control hasn't already formulated a response...

"The Captain is thanked for confirming this one's thoughts. What is his situation?"

The tone was polite and concerned, but the context was needle sharp. In other words, why is Rthar still alive when the rest of his squad is dead? the Captain thought, grinding his teeth. His work was very much action orientated; it was no surprise that control favoured aggressive field commanders. "This one has just reconnected with his remaining forces, and is proceeding to the upper level transit hub," he said, trying to keep his voice flat and emotionless.

"The Captain will do nothing to draw the servitor's attention. This one will want to debrief the Captain thoroughly."

Rthar's ears flattened and he winced; not for the first time he was glad that this connection was audio only. The Sector Chief was infamous for his skill at picking up body language cues. "Understood. What is Security's response, and does the Sector Chief have any specific orders?"

"Given the nature of the threat, that will not be relayed. No other orders, other than to evacuate via the tunnels and to survive by whatever means necessary."

"Understood, Sector Chief," Rthar said, dropping the line before his mouth overran his brain and he said something he'd regret. What are they going to do? The Captain's imagination ran wild, picturing the World Court being informed and then using the Hammer to pulverise the site. He was deep underground, but a max power shot from that oversized mass driver would turn this facility and everything for a kilolength into high velocity ejecta.

“No,” he muttered, “that’s not going to happen.” He squeezed past a partially collapsed ceiling beam, then paused, trying to orientate himself against the half remembered map. One of the servitors helpfully generated a ball of dim light, illuminating the darkness beyond the constriction and pointing out the correct route. Although it probably should; it’s obvious that the white servitor managed to strip the conditioning from its sister. If it gets to one of the corrals... The Captain shivered; imagining not one, but a hundred of the creatures, all super powered and out to shed the yoke of servitude from their backs. He tightened his grip on the pistol, trying to slow his breathing

It must not escape! he thought, reopening the connection to the dropship. “Namak, this is Rthar. What were the Pilot's orders?”

“Captain, this one is to fly overwatch around the entrance pit and kill anything he sees.” Behind the Pilot’s words was the building whine of the carrier’s lifting fans, loud even with the soundproofing on the command deck. “Control wouldn’t tell this one what they planned, but they did say not to use the crystal drive.”

Rthar grunted; no doubt they would be suitably reinforcing the units guarding the upper and lower subterranean exits as well, but that comment about not using the crystal levitation drive was interesting. “What does the Pilot think?”

“This one will tell the Captain in a second... ha, thought so. Radar can see two air groups closing on this location, looks like Arclight units with escorts. There’s another one further back, probably a heavy assault company.”

“Time?”

“About four kiloseconds for the Arclight, maybe one for the assault units.”

“Should have sent the suppressors in to start with,” the Captain muttered, “if this one finds out that control knew about this before we went in... He hadn’t intended to say that out loud, but the throat mic was very sensitive and Namak heard him anyway.

“That bad?”

“If the Pilot is buying, this one will tell him all about it.”

===

Gravity picked up the discarded piece of armour and turned it over in the air. It was a glove for the clawed front leg of a gryphon, smooth scales of a glossy black material that Fusion said was a fullerene-ceramic composite, blending into the rubberised walking surface and a set of wickedly sharp talon sheathes. Unlike those of a biological gryphon, these were not just pointed for grasping, but had sharpened undersides as well. The edges glittered in her violet horn light, the hard alloy still too sharp to touch.

She flexed the glove, folding the talons and watching how the cutting surfaces meshed together. The mare shivered and placed the thing, somehow elegant with its brutal efficiency and directness, on the floor a few lengths away. Do not let them get their claws on you again! she thought, eyeing the glove where it sat, looking like some monstrous insect.

Ready? Fusion said from somewhere in the back of her head. Don't forget the force field.

Gravity smiled with the memory of Fusion's first experiments with this spell. "Ceramic fragments will hurt a bit more than apple pulp, I think." Her force field appeared with a crystalline chime, covering the three ponies with a dome of violet light. Right, let's do this, she thought, holding the simple shapes required for the field steady, while calling up the far more complex pattern for this test. The shapes rotated in her mind, twisting and shifting as she altered them. Satisfied, she pushed.

The glove vanished with a 'pop' and a flash of violet light, reappearing a few lengths further away. Gravity stared at it in delight; now she'd had a chance to reverse engineer the spell and reassemble it according to how she'd learnt magic, it was actually quite easy to do these short range jumps. She did it again and again, flicking the glove around the room, before dropping it between her hooves, just inside the force field. "Only one more test to do," she said, cancelling her field and walking a few steps away from her sister.

You should try it on me first, Fusion said quickly, or Lilac. You'll have to carry us eventually.

There was a pleading tone to her sister's mental voice, but Gravity shook her head, forgetting Fusion still had her eye shut. "I'll have to do it at some point, and there's no way I'm going to practice on you."

But if--

Fusion didn't continue with the thought, but Gravity did. But if you die, what will happen to us? We will be helpless when they come through the door. "There's a first time for everything," she said gently, "you didn't have any problems, so there's no reason I should. You can check everything before I do it."

There was a long pause, then the other mare sighed. Okay. But take no chances -- if you are uncertain, even slightly, I want you to stop.

"Yes, mother."

I'm serious!

There was a note of real panic in Fusion's mental voice, prompting a pang of guilt from Gravity. "Sorry. Right..." The pattern solidified in her mind, only a gentle push away from reality. Fusion spent long seconds inspecting the spell, so long that the blue mare almost thought she'd go ahead and cast it anyway, Maker damn the consequences. Finally she gave her approval.

Gravity gave the construct one last check, then pushed--

~~~ discontinuity ~~~

--and staggered, wings flicking out for balance as she dropped a quarter length to the hard floor. The world spun crazily and Gravity closed her eyes until the dizziness passed, trying to ignore the little burning spots dotted over her flanks and back, and the sudden smell of burnt fur. "Damn, landings are a bit tricky," she said out loud, flexing each leg in turn while reopening the link to Fusion. "Exactly as you described, sister. It's a good job the exit location for the long jump is at high altitude."

The sharing connection opened -- it had failed at the moment of teleport -- and Gravity was greeted by a wordless wash of relief coming from the other mare. The emotional overtones were something she'd noticed in the last session, but they were getting stronger each time as both ponies became more familiar with the enchantment, more of the 'sharing' aspect manifesting itself without the need for complete focus and calm. 

What happened with your exit? Fusion asked.

"Too high, but not high enough for wings," Gravity said. "Think I know what went wrong though." While she was talking, she lifted part of the mountain of discarded Security equipment, letting the gear float around her in a dense swarm. Then, without giving her sister time to object, Gravity brought up the pattern and pushed--

~~~ discontinuity ~~~

--landing neatly on all fours, her collection of orbiting hardware all displaced by the same amount and still floating around her body. There was a little more effort required this time, but the whole process seemed cleaner; she didn't lose any more fur and the disorientation passed much more quickly.

"I had to know if I could carry anything. Don't worry, it's much easier the second time around," she said, casting the sharing spell again.

--avity, what have you-- Oh! Dammit mare, don't just do that!

Gravity accepted her sister's anger for what it really was: fear, and sent a wordless apology back down the link. "I think I'm nearly ready. Next step is to sow some confusion."

What do you plan to do, pull the roof down?

Gravity cast her eyes over something she'd seen in the floating pile of gear. An angular box, perhaps a quarter length on a side and half that thick, it was a dull gunmetal grey and had a row of pictograms along the top surface. She found the thing and swept it with her magic, sharing the vision with Fusion. Inside the case was mostly a fine powder packed into a fan of composite plates, looking like a series of wide funnels joined in a circle, narrow ends at the centre. The top of the box was filled with the same powder.

She frowned, trying to identify the sensations coming back from her magic, then shrugged. "Times like this I wish I was in manufacturing. Any ideas?" she grumbled, trying to interpret the black-on-dark-grey pictograms. Something explosive, that was clear, but the effect radius seemed so large that she doubted her understanding of the images.

A chemical weapon, some sort of irritant powder? Fusion said, nudging Gravity to look more closely at the central mechanism; at the junction of all the plates was an array of small objects linked by wires to a pack of electronics on one edge of the box.

"Too heavy, it must be a metal -- aluminium or magnesium by the feel of it." She looked again at the little diagrams. Definitely an explosion, she thought. "Fuel-air bomb?"

A metal dust thermobaric, Fusion said, mental voice faint with horror. One that big would -- actually I don't really know, but the blast wave might gut most of this place. Possibly even collapse the site all the way to the surface, especially after all the damage you did getting here. 

Gravity smiled broadly. "That sounds perfect. I've got three." And a host of other explosives, half used magazines, guns, equipment, bits of armour... she thought, gazing at the pile of battlefield detritus.

===

The high frequency scream of a power suit's rotary cannon, distorted by its passage through the wrecked Institute, echoed out of the darkness. Flysoldat Olvir Bergthor nervously scratched at the side of his beak, just where the visor clamped to the upper section. What he really wanted to do was get at the itch beneath his eye, but sersjant Galmr had already shouted at him once for that, and another infraction would earn him a half second zap from his command collar. He tried to follow orders, he really did, but somehow things never seemed to go to plan.

This had resulted in a higher than normal proportion of 'pointless' duty -- mostly guarding doors that almost no one ever used, at times no sensible gryphon would ever want to experience -- so he was very surprised to be here, more so in full assault armour. Orders were orders, though, even if they were delivered with a slight tone of despair, a tone Galmr always seemed to use when talking to Olvir.

He was near the front of the blockade force, part of the four squads spread across the width of the transit tunnel, each gryphon trying to find as much cover as they could. It hadn't started out that way; there had been no urgency and no expectation of anything happening, until the noises had started to filter up from the rest of the complex. He exchanged glances with the gryphon a little further down the line, his HUD tagging the otherwise slate grey shape with name and rank identifiers, then turned back to stare into the darkness.

He hunkered down a little lower and tried to get some saliva in his mouth, when there was another one of those flat snapping cracks that sounded more like shots from a vehicle railgun than anything the entry team had. Olvir had coped reasonably well with the normal live fire exercises and simulated wargames, so it was an unwelcome surprise to discover that gunfire from a truly unknown source was far more intimidating than he thought it would be.

A kilosecond passed with little sign of any further conflict, and Olvir also learned that waiting for something to happen was almost as bad as unknown noises out of the dark. He itched to talk to someone, but combat comms rules were active and it wouldn't win him any friends. Finally his earbud hummed into life with the stern voice of his sersjant.

"Friendlies coming in, do not engage, repeat, do not engage."

Something of the tone in those last few words made it sound like Galmr was speaking directly to him, and Olvir sighed quietly, tapping the acknowledgement key on his collar. One mistake, he thought, and they never let you forget it. Surely that's what the simulations are for-- Something moved at the limit of his night vision gear, a shifting false colour blob that quickly resolved itself into a collection of gryphons and ponies. Olvir squinted, wishing the optics could match the acuity of his real eyes. "These things always give me a headache," he mumbled, then flinched in anticipation of a shock, before realising he'd left his comms on push-to-talk rather than the mandated 'voice activation'.

There was something odd about that group -- it was certainly smaller than he'd expected, and the way they moved... No armour, Olvir thought, where is all their equipment? A gryphon loaded for combat had a certain swagger dictated by the extra mass of all that armour, and the same was true for ponies -- although in their case what gave it away were the bulky packs they carried. Olvir scanned the group again, suddenly realising what else was missing.

I can only see four Masters, wait... weren’t there supposed to be three hostages as well? Olvir looked again; only one of the Masters had the build and way of walking he associated with People in the military. 

The thought was shocking; all through his training it had been drummed into Olvir that they were here to protect their Masters. It was a point of pride among gryphons that they were the ones sent in first, the ones at the thickest fighting. Gryphons were built for battle, and it was something they did very well. To have lost so comprehensively and yet still be alive would be a crushing dishonour for the soldiers. Worse, this was one of the Ripper teams, supposedly the best the Hive could produce.

The airtanks, a pair of the long range scouting models most useful for navigating the tunnels inside the larger structures, suddenly came alive, lifting off the floor on their crystal levitators. Shutters snapped open on the streamlined turret that comprised a third of the upper hull, and the corridor was bathed in a stark white light. Olvir carefully tapped a metal shod talon on the side of his visor, dropping out of thermal mode and letting his real eyes see the returning team.

Only one military Master, four ponies and just four walking gryphons, all as naked as the day they were hatched. A number of black bags, suspended in various telekinetic fields, floated alongside the group. Olvir swallowed heavily. He'd never got on with the Rippers -- there was always a certain arrogance that he'd found hard to stomach, over and above what you normally found in those who knew they were the elite -- but it was obvious that some of them had been taught a hard lesson. Some of those bags were distinctly misshapen, and many were smaller than they should have been.

"What the Maker is that?" he murmured, attracting an unconscious nod of agreement from the gryphon hunkered down a little further along the improvised barricade. A lumpy conglomeration of metal and stone, about the size of a coffin, floated with the cluster of body bags. The more he stared, the more little features started to jump out of the mass; a length of twisted metal that could be a gun barrel here, a cluster of armour scales there. The realisation was slow to dawn, but when it came it was like a hammer blow.

"It's a suit!" he said, far too loud for the circumstances, then cringed, but no reprimand came. Risking a quick glance he saw the reason; everyone else was just as shocked as he was. Those suits were tough; he'd seen video of them being shot up, and nothing a gryphon had would poke a hole in them easily. This one had been wadded up like so much packing material and embedded into part of a concrete wall.

Orders boomed out from one of the vehicles, but Olvir wasn't paying attention and didn't catch the words. The magic glow died, lowering the bags and stretchers to the ground, then the ponies sat down. The gryphons and the Master walked forward with the careful, deliberate gait of creatures who knew they were in the sights of twitchy soldiers, dragging the wounded as best they could. The remains of the power suit was placed carefully to one side; it probably weighed a tonne or more and only a pony could shift it.

Olvir rose out of his crouch, intending to rush forward and help the injured, but a heavy set of talons landed on his shoulder and pushed him back down. He turned, hissing instinctively at this invasion of his personal space, stopping when he saw the face of his sersjant. The other gryphon shook his head, pointing at the concrete with one claw, then at Olvir and the rest of the squad. "Stay," he said, "help them when they reach our line."

Olvir snapped his beak in reflexive acceptance of the order, any urge to protest stilled by Galmr's serious expression. The injured came forward, and Olvir picked up the rear corner of a field stretcher by its beak loop, quickly moving it to the back of a waiting airtruck configured as a battlefield ambulance. The soldier, a female gryphon he didn't know, moaned and gabbled quietly during the whole process, whatever medical care she'd received insufficient to completely dull her pain. Olvir couldn't take his eyes off her shoulder; what had been a smooth curve of muscle and feathers looked like a sack full of broken, bloody glass.

All of the stretcher bays were filled, the remainder secured in the space normally occupied by the veterinarian pony. Olvir felt a little ill; medical care was almost exclusively the job of the battlefield medics, ponies whose sole task was to ensure that the injured survived a fast extraction to a behind the lines facility. These so-called ambulances had little in the way of life preserving machines, other than the pony that rode in the back with the wounded. 

"No pony," Olvir muttered, as the jostling provoked a fresh round of moans from the injured. "Weren't some of these on medical support spells when they were brought in?"

"Yes," said the gryphoness who'd been on the front of the stretcher, her grey furred tail lashing the air as she stared at the badly injured female, "Ragna was. Now shut up."

"I'm sorry," Olvir said quietly, reaching out one metal-shod foreleg in a gesture of sympathy, pulling it back when he saw the look on the other's face. There was a quiet pinging through his earbud, an order to return to his post, which he ignored. "What happened? They haven't told us anything."

"It was a pony. A pony, just one." She saw Olvir's look of disbelief and slumped, dropping her haunches to the floor. "I only saw her once, and then for just a moment. Blue, and burning like she was on fire..." The gryphoness stared off into the distance, then shivered, eyes clearing and turning her gaze back on Olvir. "Better hope you don't meet her."

Olvir nodded dumbly, helping her into the back of the ambulance, then hurried to his place on the line.

===

One kilosecond later, Rthar and the remnants of his force were approaching the wall of Security armour that blocked the upper level transit tunnel leading out of the Institute. A pair of spotlights came on and he froze, holding up one paw to stop the rest of his group. There were at least a dozen vehicles he could see, mostly the normal mix of armoured airtrucks that Security outfitted for anything from prisoner transport to mobile command posts.

What made him hesitate was where the light was coming from. Someone had parked a pair of airtanks, one on each side of the transit tunnel, each with its quarter length wide laser aperture pointed squarely at his servitors. The heavy lenticular vehicles rested with their bellies touching the concrete, but the thrumming vibration of their idling drives was clearly audible. The light was coming from those lasers, the solid state emitters defocused and set to broadband; it would take only a twitch to turn the corridor into a charnel house. In positions around the vehicles were at least a dozen of the People in full powered suits and twice that number of gryphons.

"Servitors will lay on the floor and cease all magic. All others will walk forward." The voice, distorted by the normal electronic synthesiser Security used as an intimidation tactic, boomed out from one of the airtrucks. 

"There are wounded--" Rthar yelled back, only to be cut off.

"Carry them." 

The Captain shivered slightly, beginning to get a bad feeling about this. He gestured to the nervous looking ponies, who carefully lowered the injured and recovered dead to the floor, before folding their legs and lying down. "Master?" Bastion said tentatively, his eyes never leaving the armoured bulk of the airtanks, "we had direct contact with the rogue and our information may be of value in the short term."

Rthar flicked a glance at the barricade, noting the tension in the figures behind it. There were no servitors visible, something that he found deeply worrying. The pony knows something is very wrong here, he thought, and so does this one. "The Captain will make sure command is aware of this," he said, reaching down to grab the corner of a stretcher and starting to drag it away.

After what seemed like an age -- having to walk towards aimed weapons is never fun, even when it's your own side -- the Captain and his gryphons reached the barricade, where many paws were ready to hustle them back from the front line. Rthar left the gryphons and hostages to be loaded into an airtruck for transport to a local hospital that had been taken over by Security, while he was escorted to the local commander, who was currently in the communications bay of one of the airtrucks.

The Major, a heavily muscled, black-furred female in a light armour suit, greeted him with a sour expression. "The Captain really screwed this one up, didn't he?" she said, waving away his salute. 

Rthar felt the stirrings of outrage, but was too tired to give that the reply it deserved. "The servitor is massively stronger than it should be. This one had a full herd of Security ponies, and the rogue managed to hold them off, all while coming under near continuous fire from two squads of Rippers and this one's own team."

"Yes, from the state of the Captain's Rippers, it's obvious how much of a fight they put up," she said, curling her lip, "where is all their equipment, and yours?"

"Major Wethula, with all due respect, that can be left to the board of inquiry. The servitors tell this one that they have information about the rogue--"

"How much contact did they have with it?" she said sharply.

"The duration of the fight, plus several hundred seconds after they surrendered."

"They surrendered?"

"This one was not present to give orders, he imagines they assumed he was dead, and acted to save as many of the People as possible."

"The Captain is aware that command suspects the rogue can remove the Blessing from any servitor it has undisturbed contact with?"

Rthar twitched, stomach twisting. "Yes, this seems a logical conclusion." He shifted his gaze to the array of monitors, several showing his servitors huddled together under the sharp white light of the airtank's main guns. "This one is sure that this has not occurred," he said carefully, "even so, they can be tested--"

"The Major has been ordered not to allow any chance that an unconditioned servitor could escape into the general population."

The Captain closed his eyes and sighed. This one tried, he thought, feeling a twinge of guilt. "Understood. What are the Major's orders?"

"The Captain is to immediately travel to the Pit for debrief; a fast aircar is waiting for him. That is all."

"Yes, ma'am," Rthar said, saluting and stalking out of the airtruck. 

===

Airtank Pilot Hakon sat in the formfitting chair, the anti-acceleration gimbals locked for low speed, close quarters battle, just in front of the fusion reactor's tokamak and just behind the wedge shaped glacis plate that that ran around the rim of his squashed-egg shaped Firebug airtank. Gunner Lazgo sat behind and a little to the right, offset by the reactor core that occupied the centre of the vehicle. The third member of the crew, a servitor by the name of Mantlet, was absent, having been ordered to return to the Pit after the nature of the threat became obvious.

Each crew station was isolated from the others by the spherical gimbal arrays that allowed the couches to move relative to the airtank and reduce the effects of high G manoeuvring in a turning fight. Despite the separation, Hakon actually missed the comforting bulk of the creature. Unlike Lazgo, it didn't suffer from body odour, and always put its all into whatever duty was required of it. Mantlet's main job was making sure the airtank was in full working order, something that always kept it busy, what with the current generation of adaptive optics still having reliability issues.

The parade of wounded and dead had turned what should have been a routine blockade job to something far more serious; Hakon had been watching the thaumic activity plots, but the low resolution coloured patches overlaying the wireframe map hadn’t seemed real up until that point. The intelligence coming back from the command airtruck had been most unsettling. To have lost so many, so quickly, to a single servitor, he thought, watching the survivor march away on the airtank’s peripheral cameras. This one doesn’t envy the debrief the Captain will go through; he’ll probably never command again.

Hakon was staring at the herd of ponies, starkly illuminated by the defocused beam of the laser set to broadband emission. The inside of his gimbal array was covered with high resolution displays; with the exception of the chair and control console it was as if the hull was transparent. At this range the view was excellent; he could count the individual hairs on the flanks of the closest, see where the fur and feathers were matted with dirt and dust and sweat. 

The pony, a green stallion, was talking quietly with its neighbour. Probably trying to work out what it has done wrong, Hakon thought. He unconsciously started to nibble at his thumb claw, unable to take his eyes off the creature. The Pilot had worked closely with Mantlet for megaseconds and knew what distress looked like -- all the servitors shared the same body language; lowered ears and downcast eyes. No matter that they weren't really people, they were certainly not stupid and must know something was wrong. There was a terrible inevitability to the situation, but still he held out hope that his fears were unjustified.

Lazgo had gone back to watching the thaumic plot and opened a map window over his view of the herd. Hakon felt an obscure flash of gratitude for the distraction and focused his attention on the shifting colours of the overlay. “Look at this,” Lazgo said, “what does Hakon think it’s doing?”

The rogue servitor was on the move, flitting around the complex near the beam chamber, apparently using magic at odd locations. The pattern was interesting, and Hakon manipulated the viewing controls to play the sequence back and forth through time. Understanding dawned just as another intel update appeared at the front of his message queue. A quick glance at the message and he nodded; it made perfect sense. “Look at the last bulletin,” he said, calling up the picture.

The image, taken from one of the increasingly short lived drones that the rogue seemed to be actively hunting down, showed one of the main support pillars, shorn of its surrounding infrastructure. The two length wide cylinder had a large circular bite out of one side, the inner surfaces of which were so smooth that they gleamed wetly.

“It’s attacking the supports -- what good will that do it?”

Hakon rolled his eyes. Lazgo really is new to this, he reminded himself, but it would be nice if the Gunner had some imagination. “This reminds me of that Maker’s Path bunch a while back, they wanted to stop us storming the office block they’d holed up in.”

“Lazgo remembers that; didn’t do them much good, did it?”

“No, Gunner,” Hakon said dryly, “but we didn’t get the building back, either.”

Another message appeared, and Hakon gritted his teeth. In the palm sized internal video window he saw Lazgo grip the master arm deadperson switch with one paw, his other confirming the weapon's settings. Thank the Maker that Mantlet isn't here to see this, he thought, as Lazgo pulled the trigger.

The main sensors had filters tuned to the wavelength of the airtank's lasers, so the megawatts of light did nothing to impede his view. This was no microsecond pulse train; Lazgo left the system on continuous wave and just held the trigger down. Almost quicker than the eye could see, all four ponies burst into a fierce, roaring fire, thermal blooming from the lasers pulling more air into the target zone and feeding the flames. There was a little movement, right at the start -- a couple jerking away from the light, one who started to spread its wings -- but in moments they had all slumped over, rapidly turning into red glowing carbon that dissolved into the superheated air.

"Whooo, look at them go!" the Gunner hollered, "makes this one want something barbequed!"

Hakon closed his eyes as the instant conflagration filled his screen with madly dancing flames. Lazgo continued to chatter happily, ignoring the stony silence from Hakon. The Pilot tried to hold on to his temper, releasing an involuntary growl of warning that Lazgo either ignored or didn't notice.

The lasers didn't stop firing until there was nothing left apart from a dark patch on an otherwise red hot floor.

> 30 - A precautionary measure (2)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist


=== Chapter 30 (remastered): A precautionary measure (2) ===


Fusion was a comfortable presence at the back of Gravity's head, watching through her eyes and making suggestions as the blue mare placed the first bomb in the engineering spaces above the armoured roof of the beamline chamber. The second went halfway up the tunnel she'd excavated down to the lower levels, more pulses of violet magic used to push the razor edged fragments deep into the surrounding floors, opening out a cavity that made the tunnel look like a snake swallowing an egg. The last sat not two lengths from where Fusion and Lilac lay, an innocuous box glued to the floor with something she'd pulled from the equipment pile.

Gravity worked quickly, using more magic to cut and weaken the primary support pillars that rose from the bedrock beneath the lowest levels. As she did so, she watched the progress of the defeated Security team, seeing them finally meet up with the blockade at the upper level transit tunnel junction. She couldn't really see what was happening there -- only the gryphons and ponies were readily visible, everything else was shadows and silhouettes. In this she had a better view than her sister; their diverging magical specialities also manifested in their shadow sight. 

Where Fusion was sensitive to stored concentrations of energy -- especially things like reactors with their loops of energetic plasma -- Gravity could get a sense of mass. In her shadow sight this appeared as a feeling for three dimensions, an enhanced ability to separate things by density and distance. It was this that let her notice the take-off of the Security vehicle from the surface shaft, an event which had prompted a few nervous moments until they'd realised it wasn't going to attack the facility with heavy weapons. 

The Security team had started moving again, splitting up to leave the ponies in one place while the gryphons moved through the blockade, to be whisked away down the transit tunnel inside the angular shape of an airtruck. There were plenty of other vehicles there, along with more gryphons; any Masters were invisible at this distance. Distinct from the airtrucks were a pair of things like flattened spheres, each with a streamlined lump on the top. Obviously built for speed, these were larger and much heavier than the airtrucks, standing out because of their thick, high density hulls.

She'd seen those before, too. A whole field of them after they'd been released from the attack carrier, able to move with frightening speed for things so big and heavy.

The sight of them brought back her unease; what they'd seen so far was a small fraction of the Master's power. If they'd had any real understanding of what they'd faced, she very much doubted they'd have led with such a small force. And why didn't they just use their magic suppressor? she thought.

Although she hadn't articulated it, Fusion picked up on the question. I think that Security and the Military don't like each other. We were Security's prisoners, so their responsibility. Perhaps they don't have the suppressors?

Gravity grunted something in response, busy laying lines of shock tubes to the thermobarics. The bombs had any number of sophisticated remote control options, none of which were of any use to the ponies, but some thoughtful designer had incorporated a basic timer and an external trigger. All three had their timers running, synchronised by the simple expedient of Gravity simultaneously pressing 'start' on each before setting them in place. They now had four kiloseconds left.

"Makes sense," she said absently, "the Security vehicles had crystal levitation drives as well as their jets; the attack carrier didn't. Either way, they're bound to use it eventually, although I get the feeling we really surprised them, so I think it will be some time yet," she said. The manual trigger had already been glued to a wall inside the radiation lock, and Gravity carefully inserted the shock tube into the port at the bottom, making sure the thin plastic pipe wouldn't pull free. A few quick brushes of magic and the tube was hidden under dirt and debris.

Think it will work? My pathfinding never went as far as demolitions.

"The scans look good, but we'll probably never know. I think so... it should be a nasty surprise if it does."

Gravity had been dipping into her shadow sight every few seconds, making sure nothing nasty was trying to creep up on them. During one of these forays the wing and horn light of the Security ponies disappeared. One moment they were there, all clustered together in a tight huddle, then they were gone. A half second later there was a faint crackling roar from that direction, distorted and attenuated by its passage through the intervening mess of walls and rooms.

They killed them all, Fusion said faintly from the back of her head. Why? Why would they do that?

"Contamination," Gravity said thickly, stepping outside the beam chamber to get a better view, "they're afraid I did something to those poor ponies. After all I went through to keep them alive... I should have freed them, at least they would have had a chance." Fury was bubbling up inside her, her power building like an unbearable pressure inside her chest. "And rather than take the chance to check--" Gravity broke off, calling up another pattern, one she'd only ever used as part of the fifty strong launch team during training, ten days and a lifetime ago.

The thing was brutal in its simplicity, but required a horrible amount of power to use. With it, a team of ponies could launch a satellite into orbit, creating the gravitational gradients needed to fling tonnes of material at the kilolengths a second required without exposing the cargo to high acceleration forces. The full complexity of the spell was beyond her -- there were simply too many parts to the pattern for a single pony to hold in her head -- but the drive section...

What are you doing? Fusion said nervously, I don't recognise--

"I will not let them get away with that unpunished," Gravity spat, igniting the spell's locus a hundred lengths away, somewhere inside the surface shaft. She let her anger funnel into the pattern, priming the enchantment with energy before she brought it into the real world. "The sooner they understand that actions have consequences, the better it will be."

She compartmentalised the sharing spell, protecting it from her new magic. With Fusion still sitting at the back of her mind, Gravity opened herself to the power that was ultimately derived from the motion of everything in orbit about the planet. She'd had a little taste before, but during the fight the main limit had been her own mind, her ability to hold multiple, complex spell patterns in her head. This spell was a simple thing, just requiring an enormous amount of energy to cast. The mare pulled in the power -- cool and fast, like a mountain river in flood -- then fed it straight back out and into the pattern she was crafting. The locus coalesced at the centre of the Institute's entrance shaft, energy transferring from the arcane to the real.

All at once it seemed like her body was strung with a hundred little balloons, like she was slightly buoyant. At that instant she knew that the spell was working; she'd created a gravitational point source, a virtual mass that she could manipulate at will. To be felt out this far, the spell was simulating millions of tonnes of mass, more than enough to distort local space-time and pull the Security aircraft out the sky.

Made reckless by success and anger, Gravity let the power rise like a tide and channelled it straight into the pattern and the rapidly swelling arcane locus. The spell was working far better than she had imagined; as the power surged through her she actually thought about reining it in, to make sure it didn't break free of her control and hurt those close to her, but in the heady rush of being able to do so much the thought was discarded like it belonged to somepony else.

There was no finesse here, no intricate spellwork; it was all brute strength. She was dimly aware of the demands of her body; a bone deep weariness spreading from her head and along her chest, sweat streaming down her flanks from the effort required to keep the spell active. Somewhere deep inside she knew this was a problem, knew that it wasn't right that she couldn't really feel what the magic was doing to her. Her conscious mind disregarded the nagging worry, completely focused on revenge and the sheer joy of the power.

Her manipulations caused the carrier to brush with the edge of the shaft and spin wildly; another adjustment and the green crystal glow of its drive vanished, the aircraft falling with unnatural speed. Gravity moved the locus to keep the distance constant and maintain the acceleration. She could feel her body getting lighter as the spell came closer, heard the terrible groans from the already weakened structure being exposed to forces from directions it was never designed to experience, but none of that really registered.

Grav, stop!

Gravity felt a flash of pity at the worry in her sister's cry, and it was easy to ignore the tiny voice, nearly drowned out by the power flooding through her body. Fear has made you weak, sister. If you had acted rather than tried to remain hidden, we wouldn't be in this mess. I'll do what you cannot, she thought.

You'll kill us all! Please!

These words were inconsequential and barely registered; it was the emotional feedback that came with them that made her pause. The roaring in her head faded enough that she could think about what she was doing. The spell flicked out and weight returned, bringing with it a crushing burden of guilt. How could I think that, I-I- she thought, mind nearly paralysed. Awareness of her body returned with a rush, flooding her with an enervating weakness that almost made her legs give out.

The shockwave arrived an instant later, completing the task of knocking her to the floor.

She'd put little thought into where the carrier was going to hit; in the end it was only luck and the strength of the shielded beamline chamber that saved them. Accompanied by an explosion that seemed to go on forever, the floor rattled and shook, more cracks racing over the already damaged walls and ceiling. Large beams and slabs shifted above Gravity; she stared at them by the pale and flickering glow of her horn, too weak to do anything to protect herself should they fall.

===

Dropship Pilot Namak looked again at the long range radar plot; he was supposed to be keeping all his attention on the ground sensors, alert to any attempt at a break-out by the rogue servitor and any ponies it might have with it, but his weapons officer and her suite of antipersonnel sensors and weapons could do that. The three squadrons of aircraft were rapidly approaching, the third group he suspected of being a heavy weapons response package having caught up with the other two and was heading straight for him.

The other two had separated and appeared to be diverting around the Institute, getting no closer than a couple of hundred kilolengths, something that confirmed his suspicions that they were Arclight units. For something to do he set the computer to crunching the data from the radar, integrating the return signals taken at various points of his own little circuits of the exit shaft. The resultant synthetic image was distorted, but perfectly recognizable. 

A swarm of flying things, too small to resolve beyond fuzzy points, orbiting a much larger vehicle that looked like a bird that had swallowed an egg. Stubby wings on a body distorted by a central sphere, the aircraft looked ridiculous, doubly so if you knew how much it cost to make. Namak checked the tracking plot, extrapolating the route and making an estimate of the time before Arclight came in firing range. The flight paths were already starting to curve into a wide circle; each vehicle would take up station on opposite sides of the target, giving them the most accurate control over the suppressor's volume of effect.

A warning light flashed on his HUD, the threat detection system throwing up a steeply climbing graph in his peripheral vision. By reflex he reached out and slapped the thaumic defences into full active mode, glancing at the graph to check the readings had dropped. They hadn't, and seemed to be climbing still faster. The fur started to rise on the back of his neck as he realised the impossibility of it; the levels had already surpassed those from a ground mounted thaumokinetic array, and were still rising.

Thaumic spike, somewhere inside the Institute, he thought, one paw coming off the controls to bring up the real-time mapping data from the intelligence systems distributed through the facility. An exploded model of the site, spanning from the depths of the lower tunnels all the way to the surface, started to rotate in the lower part of his HUD. Another quick claw tap and the map was filled with shifting blobs of colour, a measure of the thaumic activity as determined by the relatively crude 'arcane early warning' sensors in the airtanks.

"AEW's tagged it as having a high gravitational component," he muttered, trying to understand the display, "ah, Maker, that's not good." Right next to the beam chamber was a patch of intense colour, rapidly shifting up through the spectrum, shading to white at the centre. The computer rescaled the thaumic plot, then rescaled again as the magic kept building.

He'd seen something like this before, no more than ten kiloseconds ago as part of his briefing package. Another servitor, another beam chamber, another Institute facility. A similar plot, one taken with instruments actually designed to measure such things, but showing the same readings: a near exponential rise in thaumic power density. That event had resulted in the blackout of a large chunk of the surrounding tunnel network. If this was the same...

Yet there's no sign of any arcane effect, just the readings, he thought. And where is it coming from? At these levels the forces should be enough to knock the dropship about the sky, even if the antimagic field would stop them from punching holes in the hull. The readings jumped and the thaumic alarm shrieked, just as a shudder ran through his aircraft.

A second zone of arcane potential had appeared on the plot. It bloomed into an even stronger signal than the first, rapidly forming something that looked like a miniature sun, somewhere inside the Institute's entrance shaft. A high gravitational component, he thought, a slight shiver of fear running down his spine. Namak’s eyes flicked to the arrival times of the Arclight units -- still hundreds of seconds from firing range. "Under for magical attack, possible TK effects," he snapped out, the broadcast routed back to the command post and thence on to Security control at the Pit. 

Everything grew suddenly heavy, just like he was pulling out of a shallow dive. Compared to the forces felt by a fast jet pilot it was nothing, maybe three or four times normal gravity, but the effect on the hovering dropship was devastating. More alarms blared: sink rate, ground proximity, structural failure in the lowest parts of the carrier, a sudden fire in one of the auxiliary power units. Namak struggled to regain control; something was pulling the dropship off course. How is it affecting this one through the field? he thought fleetingly, then all his attention went on trying to keep the dropship in the air. 

He was dropping like the engines were off, even though all four were running at maximum emergency power. Despite orders he activated the crystal levitation drive, cursing as the downward motion didn't quite stop, changing into a relatively slow drift. He bared his teeth, fighting the magic for control and trying to ground the dropship on the surface, rather than have it fall down the Institute's entrance shaft. There just wasn't enough power to spare; the belly of the dropship floated down past the edge, clipping the lip as he descended. 

The port side number two engine was sheared off by that seemingly minor contact, the ducted fan exploding into a thousand fragments as the blades hit the inside of the housing. Bits of high velocity single crystal blade, each one enormously strong and designed to withstand the centrifugal forces inside the engine, were flung out at speeds high enough to drive them deep into the concrete walls of the shaft. The dropship, already unbalanced by the unnatural forces being applied to it, started to spin wildly.

Namak's training had been the best the Hive could manage; he had megaseconds of actual flight time logged, with more megaseconds in the simulator, being run through whatever disasters his Security trainers could devise. He'd even been through this kind of drill -- colliding with tunnel walls was a constant threat when reaching the deeper parts of the Hive in a hurry -- but the time was too short and the distances too small. The view out the cockpit windows was useless and an instant recipe for disorientation, so he kept his head down and fought the chaos by instruments alone.

The hard spin was making his vision blur, but he'd trained for that and it was no worse than one of the high G centrifuge runs. The HUD systems compensated for his half closed eyes, painting their laser patterns onto his retinas and allowing for his drifting focus. A three dimensional model of his ship in wireframe spun against the unforgiving walls of the entrance shaft, all non important details removed to present him with a clean picture of his environment.

The wireframe marked out the damage with a spectrum of colours starting at green and descending into crimson. Aside from the number two engine pod, the hull looked like a rainbow, pure green at the top and shading to orange and red near the landing gear. As Namak fought the controls, that band of orange crept ever higher, tendrils of red threading through the lower hull. A nasty groan of stressed metal echoed through the cabin and the thrust indicators for the crystal drive suddenly went dead.

The sensation of extra weight vanished and, just for a moment, Namak thought the magic had released his ship. Reality came crashing back in with the sight of the shaft walls rushing past, and he realised what had happened. Free fall, he thought, still calm, and still trying to restart the crystal drive, when the carrier struck the bottom of the shaft.

The floor of the shaft was a set of big doors. They had been unopened for almost half a gigasecond and were only installed to allow large machinery to be passed into the accelerator tunnel at the lowest level of the Institute facility. The outer surface of the doors was used as a landing pad for the occasional guest well connected enough to warrant their own air vehicle and needing to travel with the speed that only a suborbital hop could provide. They were strong enough to support a half kiloton bulk cargo vessel, should one ever be needed.

The carrier hit the doors at almost a third the speed of sound, slamming into the tough metal and concrete with enough force to shear off the main locks -- each the size of a tall Person -- and collapse the supports. Battered and trailing smoke, missing all its external engine pods, but still mostly intact, it fell through empty volume reserved for heavy lifting gear and punched into the cluttered equipment shaft below. Fragments and debris filled the cavity with a dusty cloud of lethal shrapnel. Lightning flashed deep inside the haze, illuminating the dust with blue-white flickers.

===

Olvir stared at the patch of concrete, still able to feel the radiant heat on the few exposed surfaces he had. His mind ran circles, forever replaying the moment when that hot green light had filled the corridor with fire. It all just seemed so wrong. Those ponies probably saved most of the injured soldiers, and would have ensured that all of them made it back to the medical centres alive.

He was used to the idea that he might be sent on a suicide mission, to die for some abstract gain during a fight he didn't understand, but this seemed to be such a waste. What did they do wrong to deserve that? he thought, trying to come to terms with what he'd just seen. No matter how he approached the idea, he couldn't come up with a satisfactory answer. He'd had the standard training courses in how to interact with the creatures; every single one had emphasised their total loyalty and how that was magically enforced.

Yet this 'blue pony' has managed to kill four of the Masters and at least six Rippers, he thought. What must have been done to it to make it act like that? Olvir had heard rumours about what went on in places like this, the experiments carried out by the Eugenics Board on gryphon and pony alike.

For a moment he wondered what the world would be like without any Masters, where a gryphon could fight for what he wanted, or -- and here was the really mind blowing idea, something that was very nearly blasphemy -- not have to fight at all. Then the floor seemed to tilt under Olvir's paws, an odd and unsettling sensation that made it feel like the whole complex was somehow teetering on the edge of a cliff.

Alarms sounded, the shrill warble of a thaumic attack, and he looked about uncertainly, running a talon over the control pad for his antimagic defences. His HUD reported that the arcane locus was several hundred lengths away, so whatever he was feeling was a minor side effect, not the actual attack itself.

The effect vanished and the alarms stopped. Olvir let out the breath he hadn't known he was holding, relief washing over him as he realised it was over. What was that? Was it the blue pony or something stranger? he thought. There had been large scale uses of offensive enchantments in the past, and these were what his antimagic systems were supposed to defend against -- spells able to aggressively affect organic matter had been common, now out of favour with the advent of modern field technology. The only real use these days were the big thaumokinetics used to defend surface facilities.

The arrival of the shockwave startled Olvir out of his musings, surprised him so badly that he forgot discipline and jumped off the ground and into a hover before his conscious mind caught up with his actions. His wide eyes took in the scene in an instant; cracks darting across the ceiling with the speed of lightning, the whole surface rippling like it was water. Instinct reasserted itself; with a single desperate down stroke of his wings Olvir turned over in mid air, arrowing away from the zone of destruction. 

Rocks rained down around him, and he split his attention between watching the ceiling and navigating a path through the chaos to the tunnel leading back to the main transit route, out beyond the clustered Security airtrucks and mercifully clear of any roof damage. A flicker of motion triggered the part of his raptor brain normally on the look-out for attack by another bird, and he twisted his wings for a hard turn.

A concrete block the size of a small aircar caught Olvir a glancing blow on his right hip, sending him tumbling through the air. At this altitude there was no chance of recovery, and Olvir ploughed head first into the concrete, taking all the impact on his shoulder and head.

He awoke in darkness, a great weight pressing down on his back. With a groan, Olvir lifted his head, feeling gravel and small rocks tumble away. A quick look over his shoulder showed the problem -- a large beam, almost the width of his torso, balanced on a nearby boulder, leaving him trapped in the gap. Breathing out, Olvir twisted and worked his body closer to the rock, finally getting enough freedom to wriggle out of the small space.

Trembling all over from the shock and adrenalin rush, Olvir inhaled deeply and tried to suppress the feeling of shame that washed over him. I left my squad, he thought, feeling sick, left my post. They'll never forgive me for that. A charge of cowardice would follow him for the rest of his life; no chance of promotion or extra responsibility, no opportunity to breed, never trusted by another gryphon. 

Nearly in tears, Olvir turned to head back to his place in the line, stopping dead when he saw what had happened. Where his squad had been was buried under enough rock to half fill the high ceilinged tunnel; the vehicles were barely visible mounds, but there was no sign of any of his squadmates.

===

The shrill warble of the AEW swallowed Hakon's anger at his Gunner; silencing the alarm, he brought the airtank's defences to full active, then watched open mouthed as the tactical repeater showed the fate of the dropship. As the aircraft fell towards the bottom of the shaft, the Pilot increased power to the engines and lifted the hull off the ground. It's not just falling, that's far too fast! he thought, taking a firmer grip on the controls. The dropship was accelerating downwards like it was in a power dive, taking less than three seconds to drop the hundred or so lengths. "Brace for impact!" he called out, eyes darting nervously to the ceiling.

The shockwave arrived and he didn't feel a thing, but the ground outside jumped in response, throwing many of the bipedal powered troops to their knees. The gryphons fared better, wings popping out from under their barding panels and dancing to keep their balance. The rumbling growl transmitted from the external microphones didn't die away, instead it built and built, dust and rock starting to rain down from the ceiling. The facility is collapsing! Hakon thought, heart thundering. He gunned the engines, intending to retreat back to the main tunnel. The first impact put paid to that idea.

One of the ceiling blocks came crashing down on the front of the airtank, unbalancing the drive and causing it to grind glacis plate first into the concrete floor. The noise was horrific, the immensely strong hull ringing like a badly tuned bell. Half deafened, Hakon struggled with the controls, but more blocks and rubble followed the first, slamming the airtank into the floor and blocking the intakes. Lazgo was shouting something, but the Pilot neither knew nor cared what he said.

The safety system killed the air breathing turbine, closing the foreign object shutters before anything could penetrate the screens and wreck the ducted fan. The airtank's limited reaction mass kept the drive working, but it would only last for seconds in this mode. This close to the ground and friendlies, Hakon didn't dare route the feed through the plasma drive, so he dropped the airtank to the ground and hunched down in his seat, tensing against the final blow that was sure to follow.

The roar of falling rocks subsided and Hakon dared to open his eyes. The imaging system showed a fuzzy, out of focus jumble of large and small shapes, bright in some areas and dark in others. It flickered as he stared at it in confusion, the display cycling to a false colour image as the tactical awareness system tried to make sense of its surroundings. Taking a deep breath, Hakon reached out a trembling paw, resetting the mad colours back to a comfortable greyscale.

Buried, he thought, but not crushed. The airtank's hull was built to withstand energetic plasma, high density long rod penetrators and radiation at power densities only found close to Celestia, but a thousand tonne primary ceiling beam would be more than capable of smashing it, especially if it fell from the high roof of the transit tunnel.

"Mantlet, how deep--" Hakon paused, feeling stupid. This was the sort of thing the servitor would do, custom magic to augment the airtank's sensors. Grumbling, he fiddled with the wall penetrating ultrasound, trying to persuade it to work with the sensor clusters packed with gravel and dust. The readings were crazy, fluctuating wildly as the system tried to adjust to material within the resonating cavity, slowly settling as Hakon eliminated the most ridiculous solutions the computer came up with. 

He kept one ear open to the local battlenet channel; the high bandwidth link was still up so the command vehicle hadn't been flattened, but the only response to his situation report had been a terse 'sit tight'. The procedure under these circumstances was clear; if you are safe for now and the unit isn't under attack, don't dig yourself out until ordered. The last thing he wanted was to cause a further collapse if it turned out that the airtank was now a vital part of the roof support structure...

To take his mind off the situation, Hakon started flicking through all the surviving local cameras to get an idea of the situation. One side of the tunnel had collapsed, burying a pair of airtrucks and his Firebug; underneath the tonnes of rubble were also a quarter of the powered troops and at least a squad of gryphons, those who chose to shelter next to the vehicles rather than fly for the exit.

The People had probably survived; their armour was self contained and would recycle air and water until the deuterium-helium three fuel ran out, which could be megaseconds. The gryphons... He could see at least one golden brown wing sticking out of the rubble, its owner somewhere under one of the half length wide interlocking tetrahedral blocks that made up the ceiling.

The protocols for this sort of thing were well established, and someone on the command team was organizing the recovery operation. Heavy lifting gear was always on call when Security performed this kind of operation; ceiling supports were a favourite terrorist target. Servitors would normally be providing the grunt work, but all of theirs had been ordered away after the true nature of the threat was suspected. Or burned, Hakon though grimly. How many more will die because of that stupid order, killed by the clumsy crystal thaumic systems used to dig them out?

Lazgo had nothing to occupy his time and wasn't taking the waiting well. "How could one servitor do all that?" he said, voice sounding loud now the thrum of the airtank's engines had been silenced.

Hakon's lips pulled back in a mirthless smile at the nervousness in his Gunner's voice. Lazgo was on his first tour and it showed. First taste of an opponent actually fighting back, eh? he thought. "Lazgo will see all sorts as he gets older. This one cut his teeth fighting Baur sleeper cells during the run up to the Three Day War. He also remembers when the King sent assault teams into arcology four. They collapsed the primary entrances and the deep tunnels; it took our servitors almost a day to get a big enough opening."

"What happened?"

Hakon's voice went dreamy, lost in the memory. "By the time we got in, the gryphons had slaughtered the Security forces and the police, and had been hunting civilians for almost fifty kiloseconds. This one must have spent half a megasecond buttoned up, trying to get all of them... They'd done something to the birds, some kind of conditioning. None of them surrendered... and every single one had a bomb vest. After the first few blew themselves up while faking a surrender we didn't bother asking again."

Lazgo said nothing, but the air in the vehicle held a kind of expectant hush, and Hakon knew he had the Gunner.

"The last of them were cornered in the power core, it was only a matter of time before we had them, and they knew it. You see, that was the plan all along. Some Baur scientist had figured out a flaw with our power plant designs, and they'd rigged the reactor for when the war went hot. Eighty percent casualties; Hakon's airtank got caught in the arcology collapse when it blew.

"How did Hakon survive?" Lazgo asked, still too loud for the small space.

"The airtank was ruined, but still had emergency power; Hakon knew it was only a matter of time until the rescue teams dug then out. What he didn't know was that the airtank had fallen to the bottom of an equipment shaft... and that no one was looking at all." 

"Why not?" Lazgo sounded outraged, and well he might. That rescue would come was something drummed into all aircrew.

"There was a war on," Hakon said dryly, "they were busy."

"Then what happened?"

Hakon's voice dropped to a whisper. "After the first megasecond this one's Gunner had to be restrained by the crew servitor. He'd given up; couldn't stand the thought of being trapped. He waited three days, until the pony fell asleep from exhaustion, then opened his wrists with his own claws."

"Did- did Hakon manage to save his Gunner?"

The faint tremor in Lazgo's voice maked Hakon grin, even while the memory made him shiver. "By the time Hakon awoke, the crew bay was awash with blood and the Gunner was cold. It was another two megaseconds before Hakon and the servitor were found."

"Hakon is a bastard, he had this one going for a moment."

The Pilot gave a cold smile. Lazgo won't get away that easily, he thought. "It's a matter of public record; why do you think this one was transferred to Security from the regular Military?" Hakon let the silence hang there, ears twitching at Lazgo's rapid breathing. He smiled again, genuinely this time, when the order to shake free of the rubble popped up on his screen. "One more thing," he said, reaching forward to start the crystal drive, "the rogue servitor pulled a whole dropship out of the sky moments after Lazgo pulled the trigger on the Security ponies; that sounds like revenge to Hakon. What does the Gunner think it will do to us?"

The airtank vibrated suddenly as Hakon fed a quick pulse of power into the plasma drive, blasting the lift vents clear of debris. A quick shake and he could drop back to turbine mode, making rocks cascade from the top of the airtank and exposing the sensors to give him a look down the half collapsed tunnel. His orders updated, and he floated the airtank down the corridor to the upper level nexus point, in the middle of a formation of gryphon and powered infantry. 

The routine of the work occupied Hakon’s body, leaving his mind to ponder the other information that had come along with the movement order. Arclight was still nearly a kilosecond from deployment; the faster heavy weapons units had been ordered to stand off until it could be activated. If the servitor makes a move, we’re all that stands between it and the main transit lines, he thought, if it gets into those, there’ll be no stopping it before it reaches the arcology proper. The big twenty lane transit lines were always very busy, and for a moment Hakon imagined the creature flying down the centre of the main tunnel, pulling the roof down as it went.

===

The shocks and vibrations became irregular, slowed, and finally stopped altogether. Gravity took a deep breath and climbed shakily to her hooves, never taking her eyes off the ceiling. The slab directly above her head had cracked clean in two and was drooping drunkenly, only held up by a few unbroken reinforcing bars.

She staggered back into the beam chamber, dropping to her belly next to her sister and enfolding the other mare in a hug that she couldn't return. "I'm sorry, I don't blame you, none of this is your fault, if I'd just believed you..." she said, voice muffled where her muzzle was pressed against Fusion's dust and blood stained fur. "I don't know what came over me."

Don't worry, Fusion said, it will take time to adjust to your new strength. Do... Fusion tailed off, the pause extending out for several seconds. ...do you think it was the Maker-thing again? Did it feel like it was you?

Gravity thought back to the flash of anger that had overwhelmed her despair, back when she'd seen the surgical robot move over Fusion's paralysed body. There was an odd taste to the remembered emotion; it was too clean, too perfect in her mind, and not at all like the fury she'd felt when the Security ponies had been killed. Was that all me? she thought, doing her best to shield that terrible idea from Fusion. You enjoyed that, didn't you? The traitorous thought wouldn't go away; the more she tried to suppress it, the more obvious it became. The rush of power, the ability to hurt those who'd mistreated her sister and had made the world so very unfair.

"I think so," she said, burying the shame of the lie within the guilt she already felt. 

Are you ready to go? Fusion said after a few moments, sounding troubled. We should leave while we can. They must have sent for the suppressor vehicles by now, and I've no idea if the shielding will work after all that structural damage.

"Easy way to find out," Gravity muttered, standing up again and walking slowly around the chamber to get the blood flowing in her still shaky legs. She looked into the shadow world, examining the walls of the room. Only a few sections of the walls and ceiling were dark, the carefully designed panels split by fine cracks that disrupted the precise patterns of crystals. 

This place is very well built, Fusion said, I thought it would be far worse.

Gravity hummed in agreement, her attention on something else. "I think the force near where they killed those ponies is on the move," she said, anger stirring once more. She looked down toward the lower transit tunnel access, a wide chamber at the very bottom of the Institute; where the second group of Security vehicles had been was now a chaotic mass of metal and stone, only really identifiable by the few remaining crystal systems around it.

There is only one way in now, she thought, turning her gaze in that direction, through the upper tunnels. The access through the shaft itself had been thoroughly smashed; even though the high level access points were still open, the connecting ramps and lifts had all collected near where the carrier had crashed.

"I'm going to have to stop them," Gravity said, fanning her wings and jumping up through the control room windows.

Why? Fusion's mental voice sounded angry and more than a little scared. We can just leave; reset the bomb timers and teleport away.

"It's going to be hard for me to do the long jump," Gravity said, "I want to make sure we're not interrupted while I'm building the pattern." That was the truth; carrying two other ponies to a half remembered location would be difficult -- not so much for the amount of magical effort required, but for the preparation that would go into the pattern. And because... because I want to hurt them some more, get the Masters who killed those ponies. She kept that to herself, ruthlessly suppressing the thought. The mare trotted through the control room door and out into the corridor, telekinesis clearing a path through the passageway made by the Master, once again a mass of sharp edged rubble.

Please don't leave me, I- I don't think I can stand being alone again. You- you promised...

Gravity flinched at the fear in Fusion's voice, a faint and tremulous whisper in her head, so different from the determined pony who'd taken the chance to confront her about the Masters, then felt a flash of irritation, followed by another burst of guilt. Doesn't she realise I'm doing this for her? she thought, again keeping that from the sharing. "Be brave, Fusion," she said soothingly, then her tone turned to iron, brooking no arguments. "I'll be quick and won't take any chances, but I will not leave an enemy at our back again, not after what happened last time. There's no way they'll get past me."

But what about--

"No," Gravity said sharply. There was desperation in Fusion's mental voice, the tone of a mare grasping for any excuse to prevent the inevitable. Gravity felt more irritation, but this time without any guilt. "Sister, you are not thinking clearly. If they were going to use their suppressor, where is it? I think they have badly underestimated what we can do, and that the thing will be far too late to stop me. I am going to take this opportunity to be certain they don't take us by surprise."

There was a long pause, so long that Gravity started to check the sharing spell, worried that the link had been lost. Keeping it open wasn't too much of a problem, but she'd have to go back inside the beamline chamber to reconnect.

Okay... I-I trust you.

Fusion sounded so small and lost that Gravity paused, half turning back towards her sister. Then she lowered her head and hardened her heart, heading at a brisk trot towards the still deploying Security force.

> 31 - Hard Lessons
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist


=== Chapter 31 (remastered): Hard Lessons ===


Sersjant Galmr gave Olvir a long, hard look when he reported in, long enough that the gryphon thought he would be denounced as a coward right there, then slumped slightly.

"Flysoldat Bergthor, squad three is a trooper down, you will join them." He paused to wipe concrete dust from the side of his beak. "You made the right decision, Olvir. You are of more use to the Masters alive than buried under a hundred tonnes of rubble." 

The words seemed to cause his sersjant an almost physical pain, and Olvir was glad he couldn't see Galmr's expression through his protective gear. He kept his own expression fixed and his spine ramrod straight, snapping his beak to show he understood. "Yes, sersjant, I--"

"Don't say it, flysoldat," he said, waving Olvir away with a dismissive gesture, turning back to organizing her part of the recovery operation.

Olvir watched the gryphon stride away, then let his own posture slump. Do you wish one of the others had made it instead, someone actually useful to you, or do you just wish I'd died with them? he thought, struggling to maintain his composure. Uncertain what he thought about that himself, Olvir trotted smartly over to his new squad.

He stayed quiet while they cleared rocks; the others talked little, just snapped at him when he wasn't fast enough or when they thought he wasn't putting enough effort into the job. The word had spread fast, and he cried out inside at the unfairness of it all.

Finally they'd finished as much of the grim task as was possible -- less than half of the missing had been recovered at all, but it had been worth it for the few they had managed to pull out alive -- and were ordered to fall back to the remaining vehicles while the airtanks dug themselves out with great blasts of dust and jets of blue glowing exhaust. 

Moments later he and the two other gryphons of the fireteam were flitting down the corridor, sweeping it for any threats in advance of the now silently floating airtanks. Pumping his wings, Olvir flashed into the upper transit hub, curving around to sweep the area for any hostile surprises. This was something he'd been trained for; the half dozen gryphons of the advance team fanning out like a precision display team.

At nearly twenty lengths high, the hub was not the largest he'd ever seen, but it was still a cavernous space. Like most, it was circular in floor plan, with the arches of large tunnels piercing it at regular intervals around the rim. Overhead, in the high, vaulted ceiling, was a network of tracks for heavy lifting gear, showing that this chamber was originally part of the construction effort for this section of the accelerator.

Most of those tracks were down now, along with large chunks of the ceiling and parts of the perimeter wall. Great piles of the tetrahedral construction blocks lay scattered across the floor, providing a maze of cover for anything wanting to hide. Nerves singing, Olvir completed his inspection and sighed with relief when nothing took a shot at him. 'Advance scouts' my tail, he thought with some bitterness when Sersjant Galmr ordered him to make an extra pass near the tunnel entrances, I know when I'm bait.

Command was finally happy the hub was empty, so he joined the rest of the force hiding in cracks and amid the fallen rocks. Olvir found himself a spot near the top of one rubble pile with a good view of the chamber and was joined moments later by one of his new squadmates. The other gryphon pointedly didn't look in his direction.

===

Hakon placed the airtank hull down behind one of the larger piles of debris, with enough clear space around it to let him jump the vehicle in any direction he wanted. He kept a close eye on the ceiling; no obvious cracks directly above, but this whole structure was bound to be riddled with them and it wouldn't take much to bring it all down. The infantry dispersed themselves around the large chamber, hiding around the rubble piles and, in the case of a few gryphons, taking up sniper nests in the larger ceiling voids.

There were half a dozen big corridors branching out of the hub, single line levitation tracks spreading to all areas of the Institute, some even connecting to the lower hub and the deep tunnels, as well as the loading area underneath the surface shaft. Many of these were smashed; choked with tens of lengths of rubble where the shockwaves from the falling carrier had brought the ceilings down.

"Looks like this is it," Lazgo announced, calling up a ghost-like thaumic overlay and highlighting a hotspot. It looked good: somewhere behind the walls, moving at a steady pace towards one of the blank faced tunnel entrances, was a shifting patch of arcane activity. The source was in a side corridor and any moment forward elements of the force would have direct visual contact.

Neither airtank had direct line of sight, but that didn't stop Hakon from seeing what was happening. Collected from sensors distributed across all the troopers, the fusion of thermal, millimetre wave and light amplification lit the dark tunnel with a virtual light. The airtank presented this as a synthetic view, processing the image to make it appear as if the intervening obstacles were translucent.

The order was to test the servitor's power, so the airtanks would remain hidden while the rest of the force engaged. Despite this, Lazgo was already trying for a firing solution; a tight cluster of points appeared in the aiming circle, bunching and swirling as he prodded the computer to hunt for targets in its anti-personal mode.

A figure stepped out into the main corridor, maybe fifty lengths away, surrounded by a swarm of rapidly moving rocks and embedded in a field of violet light that made everything hazy and uncertain to Hakon's straining eyes. The computer wasn't fooled, and the laser aim points coalesced on the figure.

===

Command had placed a blinking marker in the little 3D plot sitting high on Olvir's field of view; it wasn't a single 'target' icon, but more of a diffuse cloud of probability, a location inferred by the destruction of the sensor network and what could be gleaned from the low resolution thaumic warning systems. Olvir already had his gun forward, safety off and reticule placed over the most likely tunnel mouth. 

For the tenth time he checked the lie of the linkless feed ammunition chute, compulsively making sure it wasn't kinked. A click of the beak had the gun's management system interrogating each cartridge all the way back to the panniers on his hips. His gun was loaded with the standard 'Ripper' mix, alternating thaumokinetically boosted anti-armour fletchettes and smart fuzed multimode exploders, just as it had been when he'd checked only a few seconds earlier. And the few seconds before that.

The unwelcome feeling of fear resurfaced as that hazy patch of red crawled through the map display, and he sipped a little water from his harness' water bladder to try and alleviate his dry mouth. This just brought into sharp relief the sudden fullness of his own bladder, while simultaneously failing to quench his thirst. The tension rose still further and Olvir whined quietly at the back of his throat.

A dazzling point of deep blue light bloomed somewhere down the corridor, surrounded by a halo of violet that seemed to defy his eye's abilities to focus on it. The glare was so bad that even through his gun's stabilised and filtered optics he couldn't resolve whatever was making that light. Guessing that the light was from the pony's horn, Olvir dropped his aim slightly and gently closed his beak, taking up the slack on his bite trigger. A slight increase in pressure, no more than a kilo, and the autogun would fire. 

The trigger pad compressed slightly under his beak, the mechanism pausing at the second stage. The gun knew the range, knew the approximate dimensions of his target, and had cast a stochastic pattern of impact points about his reticule. Everything was automatic; crystals in the bell-shaped muzzle would direct each round to its allotted position. Any single shot would gut the pony from throat to tail root. 

Better hope you don't meet her. 

The words of the gryphoness survivor rattled around his brain, turning Olvir into a single mass of coiled muscle, near to trembling with anticipation. One talon stroked the controls for his antimagic defences, although he wasn't sure what good they'd do against a pony able to pull a Security dropship out of the sky -- and in any case, his system was under remote lockout, just to make sure no one gave the game away.

One of the Masters -- obviously monitoring the feed from the aggregated gun cameras -- made the decision. A purple circle icon appeared around his armour's status display, at the same time as a rising series of three notes played through his earbud. Olvir was well trained; he was ready and his gun was on target. On third note he bit down.

The autogun bucked in its mounts, delivering the familiar stinging slap across the beak where the recoil forces weren't quite cancelled out by the shock absorbers in the trigger bar. In the blink of an eye, ten rounds were kicked out of the mass driver barrel at nearly a kilolength a second, then given a nudge by the firing computer to land in the precise pattern he'd already been shown.

Every gryphon and Master with line of sight did exactly the same thing at the same moment, creating an invisible storm of fire that should have turned the pony into a patch of blood and bone fragments spread halfway down the tunnel. Instead it just kept coming, shedding a cloud of sparks and dust from the pyrophoric immolation of the high velocity rounds, galloping on like some fire shrouded demon. Two disks of violet light, each the width of his spread wings, materialised near the creature, keeping step while it ran. They looked like sheets of glowing glass and should have been just as fragile, but ammunition able to punch through talon thick steel was being shrugged off like paper darts.

Heart beating almost as fast as his gun was cycling, Olvir fired again and again, to just as little effect. Out of the corner of an eye he saw a missile pop up from one of the power suits and dart towards the pony, only to suddenly veer off sideways and detonate at the paws of a second Master. Then more things started to explode. 

The hazy violet cloud that surrounded the unkillable thing was a vast number of rocks held up by its telekinesis, orbiting the burning shape at great speed. Rocks that started to vanish, producing 'hostile fire' traces over Olvir's HUD as his sensor suite tracked the shock waves of their passage. Pale lines of computer generated light sprang out from the pony, connecting it to Security troopers all across the chamber. 'Squad taking fire' and 'communications failure' messages started to pop up in his HUD, and Olvir sank a little lower, switching to holding his autogun's trigger bar in one set of talons and only pushing his gun over the top of the rubble.

Even with the gunsight camera it wasn't a very accurate way to shoot, but he could see the rounds going home. Impacts were making the mound vibrate against his belly, a seemingly endless stream of incoming fire striking dust and fragments from the rubble pile. Where is the pony getting all that ammunition? he thought, she's putting out as much fire as a platoon. Olvir continued to shoot back, watching his rapidly dropping ammunition counter. 

The awful truth dawned on him when he saw rocks spiralling up from the ground to join the swarm orbiting the pony. Nothing we're doing is making any difference. Olvir's stomach clenched and he fought the sudden urge to leap into the air and fly away as fast as he could. Finally, the pony entered the transit hub chamber proper and came within range of every weapon that the remains of the barricade team could bring to bear.

The pony seemed to know this; as soon as she cleared the archway her wings flicked out and thrust down, sending her arcing through the air in a path that seemed suicidal to Olvir. Every gun had a clear line of sight and, for an instant, the pony was caught at the centre of a converging sphere of fire, the individual shockwaves so numerous that the air itself grew hazy and curdled.

Olvir never found out if that actually killed her, for at that moment the airtanks opened fire. His visor saved his sight, the electronic layers going dark before he had a chance to witness the full glory of a multi megawatt laser strike. Enough light flooded past the gap between visor and beak to make him throw up a foreleg in protest, but by the time he'd moved the show was over, leaving only the echo of thunder and the rapidly fading glow of flash vaporised dust in the beam path.

Hanging in the middle of the chamber was a distorted puff of greasy black smoke. Not even a drifting cloud of feathers remained.

===

The route to the approaching Security forces was made convoluted by the general level of destruction. They had concentrated in the upper transit hub and didn't appear to be advancing into the Institute itself. At least I'm not going to have to hunt them down in small groups and risk one slipping past me. Standing on top of an unstable rubble pile, Gravity paused and tried to shake off the memory of the fear in Fusion's mental voice. Do I really need to do this? Should I? She kept the thoughts to herself, ever mindful of the faint presence of her sister at the other end of the tenuous sharing link.

For an instant doubt assailed her, joined by the various physical aches and a deep fatigue that extended to her very marrow, then Fusion was supplanted by a vision of Bastion. Battered and tear-stained, the Security pony had known the fight was hopeless, but was ready to attack her with everything he had. Gravity shook her head again and took a step forward to slide down the pile to the floor. They don't know what they lost by doing that. Well, I'll show them. At the moment they value us so little; it is time they realised that we are not to be disposed of at a whim. 

The uncertainty vanished under fresh anger, taking some of her weariness with it, and Gravity started forwards again with new determination. As she moved the mare passed the time by destroying as many of Security's little robots as she encountered, in between bouts of building the teleportation pattern for their final escape. At least if I do need to leave in a hurry, I can. She allowed Fusion to see the pattern forming, something that seemed to calm the mare a little.

Gravity approached the upper transit hub with some care, trying to determine exactly what she faced. Her magic sight was better than Fusion's for this kind of thing, but it still didn't give her the information she really needed. The big, dense things -- the pair of lens-shaped vehicles with their thick armour -- were obvious, as were the scattering of lights from the magically active wing bones of gryphons, spread across all parts of the chamber.

The gryphons also had crystal thaumic systems in their armour and weapons, all of which were visible to the mare as coloured lights in the darkness. The same was not true for the powered armour the Master's wore; with their active defences off they were practically invisible to her shadow sight. Not for the first time, Gravity wished that Fusion was by her side; her sensitivity to energy would pick out the backpack fusion reactors with ease. 

Still, she knew they had to be there, and probably at least a dozen, based on the number of gryphons she could see. A simple illusion won't do it, she thought, not with all the sensors on those suits. Gravity had not had long to inspect them, but it was obvious that an optical camera was the simplest system they had. I need to give them something they can believe in.

As she trotted down a rubble choked corridor and took short flights across gaping holes in the floor, the mare picked up odds and ends from the ruined rooms to either side. Bits of concrete that were the right size, a few lengths of fractured pipework, and four chunks of desktop were pressed into service for the weapon she was building. By the time she was close to the corridor attached to the upper hub, it was ready. 

Trotting at her side was a large version of a foal's doll. Such things were normally made from scrap wood and grass and were no more than few hoof-spans tall; this monstrosity had steel pipe limbs and a concrete rubble body, with crude wings made from thick plastic lab desks. Gravity turned to face the thing, making it cock its head as if it were studying her in return. The fragments hung inside a haze of violet magic, moving at her command. It had been a long time since she'd made one of these, but her skill at telekinesis meant that its movements were incredibly lifelike.

Deep in the centre of its belly, protected by the shell from a pressure vessel, Gravity buried a water-clear crystal from an instrument taken from a laboratory on her route. The thing was tiny, smaller than the tip of her horn, but its perfect geometric shape and high arcane signature made it the ideal recipient for the clairvoyance anchor spell. She closed her eyes, opening them again to gaze back at her own face from a point level with the bottom of her chest. A quick adjustment to bring the view point closer to head height and she was ready for the final part of the deception.

A twitch of magic and dark blue fur condensed over the wreckage skeleton, long plumes of silky midnight blue filled with the sparkle of distant orbital debris growing out from its rump and neck. A few seconds later, New Gravity looked back at Original Gravity, then fanned her wings vigorously. Original Gravity winced at the sound of plastic boards crashing together, then shrugged. I'm sure they'll be too busy shooting to notice what you sound like, she thought. With shadow sight the collection of animated rubble was painfully obvious; any pony within half a kilolength would know that something was wrong. But you killed all your ponies, didn't you?

New Gravity reared up in front of Original Gravity, pawing the air. "The perfect likeness," she murmured, "right down to the fact that you are broken inside." 

Don't think like that! Fusion's mental voice was sharp, her worry and fear almost drowned out by her sudden anger. For a moment Gravity could almost feel her sister's presence, imagining being shaken by white-gold magic, and she smiled slightly. You are doing what you think is right -- I think it is foolhardy, but it does have its merits. Just... just be careful, okay?

Gravity nodded quickly, her doppelganger mirroring her movements with the sound of concrete grinding together. "I will. No silly risks." The mare's mind slipped away to focus on the upcoming confrontation, excitement building once more and her attention becoming needle sharp. New Gravity stalked ahead, picking up more weapons as she went, rocks and metal pipes that orbited her in an ever increasing swarm.

===

Gravity moved around the final corner at a gallop, magic flowing into the cloud of rocks and making then hum and whine through the air. More magic flowed into her limbs and they blurred, moving faster than was possible for any mere flesh and blood creature. Her speed doubled and doubled again, vision narrowing until only the tunnel mouth was visible.

Her shadow sight, already dusted with lights from gryphons, suddenly blazed with colours as the geometric shapes of antimagic fields materialised all over the hub. Gravity immediately started to take fire; hypervelocity fletchette bursts that cracked like whips, mixed in with the blinding pulses of paw-held lasers. Mind starting to sing with the effort, she manifested several force field disks, manoeuvring them around her body to intercept as much of the fire as possible.

Now I know where you all are! The excitement of battle reached a peak and she started to flick rocks from her travelling swarm, little nudges of power that made the improvised projectiles crack the air with their own sonic booms. All of the magic she was employing, coupled with the constant stream of incoming fire, made things disorientating and her accuracy was terrible, but she was throwing a lot of rocks. Her attendant cloud was depleting rapidly, but there was plenty of ammunition scattered around; with every hoof-fall another shotgun blast of pebbles peppered the now visible Masters.

All of this had taken perhaps three seconds, long enough that she had actually entered the transit hub and attracted the attention of the heavy vehicles. Gravity watched closely as some kind of armoured shield flicked open, a bit like an eyelid, on a bulge at the top of each vehicle. 

The size of the opening could mean only one thing: laser. A whisper of fear stole up Gravity's spine; no mere shield of rock would suffice against an energy weapon of that magnitude. They must be my main target. She jumped up, wings flicking out to take her in a high, gliding leap over the vehicles, when their weapons found her. 

Her world turned a green so intense that it could only be matched at the surface of the sun. Tough though she was, there was no way she could survive power levels designed to punch through armour at fifty kilolengths. The beam strike vaporised metal and detonated rock, the sudden explosion defeating her telekinetic field and bringing with it a concentration-sapping pulse of pain that made all Gravity's magic fail. The world went back to normal, just in time for her to see the tail end of the laser pulse train reflect off the far wall of the corridor, as bright as Celestia at noon.

Gravity had been expecting this and clenched her teeth against the sudden headache; shedding the last vestiges of the clairvoyance spell, she reopened her shadow sight to check the locations of the vehicles. In one quick motion, she picked up a bundle of heavy metal stanchions, thrust them around the corner, and pushed. There was still no clear line of sight, so she held on to the magic and guided her weapons in an arc that took them over the intervening rubble to strike at the vehicles. The effort made the mare grunt, the fading pain in her head flaring up to a shocking brilliance that left her staggering and half blind. 

Odd noises, all appallingly loud, echoed around the corner. Explosions and a rapid staccato thunder like the screams of a dying monster, all accompanied by green lightning flashes and a sudden rapidly building glare of white light, bright enough to make her squint even by reflection. Taking a deep breath, Gravity let the pain subside for a second -- to her immense relief, it was fading as quickly as it came -- then poked her head around the corner for one fast look.

The high ceilinged chamber was lit by jets of white flame spraying up from vents on the rear of one of the armoured vehicles. The noise was building in step with the fire, the shriek of gas escaping under high pressure. Even at this distance, the heat coming off the plumes was like standing too close to an oven; fierce enough to make the insides of her ears and the end of her muzzle tingle. The other vehicle was moving, as were the shapes of gryphon and Master, variously running, flying -- or in one case, falling -- to different locations.

The pain was gone now and the ever present weariness faded in the face of the sheer joy at being able to strike back at their tormentors. Lips curving in a hard smile that didn't reach her eyes, Gravity gave a low chuckle, completely unheard in the general cacophony. Somewhere at the bottom of her mind there was a flash of uncertainty, a worry that revelling in this destruction was not something a normal pony would do, but it just felt so good.

That gnawing thought held her back, dampening her enthusiasm and making her watch the activity in the chamber for a moment. It was a fascinating thing; all the soldiers moving in little choreographed rushes, repositioning themselves after her strike. As if they can hide from me! Gravity snorted, then focused her attention on the two armoured vehicles. 

The first was obviously dead, but the second only had a crater in the upper armour. It was right where the laser mirror was, but the machine was obviously still in the fight -- and she'd be very surprised if it didn't have a backup system somewhere. "Time to put all that practice into good use," Gravity muttered to herself, collecting a small swarm of good sized rocks and setting them flying around her body. Still smiling, she held the last remaining pipe, a heavy metal thing much like the one she'd used that first time at the beam chamber, against her flank like a lance.

Grav, what are you doing? You've done enough, come ba--

"Just a quick jump to get around the back of them, sorry, going to lose the link." Fusion was still talking, a pleading tone entering her mental voice, but Gravity wasn't paying much attention. She called up the complex arcane pattern, excitement reaching a fever pitch and making the pains of her body and mind fade into the background. A few quick alterations and--

~~~ discontinuity ~~~

===

Olvir stared at the rapidly dispersing cloud, the release of tension almost making him physically sick. He'd just poked his head up over the top of the rubble pile when the first airtank exploded with a crack like a giant whip. Brilliant gouts of white fire sprang up from the rear of the hull, hot enough that he could feel the heat even here. Olvir stared open beaked at the burning vehicle, talons going slack and letting his autogun retract back along its track. In the harsh lighting he caught sight of a flicker of motion, something long and metallic glimpsed for an instant as it accelerated so fast as to become invisible.

Another hammer blow of sound and the second airtank staggered and spun, armour ceramic spalling from its upper hull. Smoke and sparks spewed from a long gouge that tracked from the top of the glacis plate and terminated at the shutter covering the laser mirror, like a slash blinding an eye.

There was a flash of violet from the bottom of his rubble pile, only a few lengths from where he hid; instinctively his head flicked around, big yellow eyes focusing on the source of the light. It was the pony, staggering as if she'd just tripped, surrounded by a collection of rocks floating in a violet cloud. Light seemed to flow from her, seeping from every hair of her coat like a gas. The mare's mouth was half open, big herbivore teeth exposed in what could only be a smile. 

The instant calculation of a predatory mind combined with the futility of gunfire against this pony told him all he needed to know -- even if he could draw his weapon in time there was no point. In that same moment of time he leapt, wings half popping out from under their carapace panels to guide his attack, forelegs coming forwards with talons spread.

Multiple projectiles cracked the air around his body, while close by there was a thump of impact that registered below the level of his conscious mind; even without looking he knew the other gryphon was dead. His fall towards her seemed to be achingly slow, and Olvir had plenty of time to see a tangled lump of metal that had been circling the pony suddenly blur in his direction. He tried to turn, tried to dodge the strike, but even his battlefield grade nervous system and big, fast twitch muscles were not quick enough.

There was an awful blow on his right wing, an impact so strong that it sent him into a tumble, floor and ceiling blurring until he struck the concrete floor. He never passed out, but lay there stunned, looking up at the blue pony standing over him. She stared into his eyes, seeming to be almost as shocked as he was, then her gaze shifted to look at his flank. As if hypnotised, Olvir's head turned in that direction, inanely wondering what she'd seen. 

My wing-- the thought choked off and he remembered the shoulder of the gryphoness he'd helped load into the ambulance. The bloody mess was barely recognisable; he was sure his real wing, its long golden feathers smooth and strong, was tucked safely away behind the sprung loaded panel running along the side of his armour harness. Disbelievingly, Olvir lifted one foreleg, reaching out with a trembling talon to brush aside the broken thing.

The act of touching it seemed to break whatever spell had taken root in his mind. That slightest of movements felt like fire was being poured down his side, an awful pain that crowded out everything else. Olvir turned back to look at the pony, unconsciously making the quiet, high pitched keening of a chick calling for its mother.

A telekinetic glow formed around his autogun, the tough composite cracking and splintering. More glows and a jostling that produced a spike of pain so bad that he couldn't find the breath to scream, then a violet tinged force gently pulled the visor away from his helmet. He stared up into the face of the mare, her smile gone and her eyes filled with some unidentifiable emotion, silently begging her not to kill him.

The glow around the visor intensified, crushing it into an uneven lump. "I'm sorry," she whispered, then stepped back. 

There was a flash of violet and she was gone. Olvir blinked in confusion, half convinced that he'd gone mad, then curled into a ball as bullets turned the patch of concrete where the pony had been standing into gravel. The shooting stopped moments later, and Olvir started to crawl down the corridor and away from the lethal transit hub, whimpering and crying every time he jolted his wing. 

Over his shoulder the explosions and gunfire started again.

===

Permission had already been given to engage and Lazgo didn't waste any time, immediately holding down the trigger. The nanosecond pulses of light superheated the air in the beam, sounding like the sharp cracks of a whip, even inside the airtank. A dozen near simultaneous strikes connected with the target, any one of which could have blown a hole through the servitor lengthwise, and it dissolved in a shower of sparks and flame.

Lazgo whooped again, but this time Hakon paid no attention. There was something odd about that pony-- The thought dissolved when the thaumic alarm went off and the airtank started to shake from rapid impacts, damage warnings flashing up in quick succession. There was a crashing blow from somewhere over his head; the high quality sensor feed abruptly died as the main mirror shutters failed to survive the strikes.

The displays on the inside of the gimballed sphere rebuilt themselves from the secondary sensors scattered about the hull, and Hakon's eyes widened in disbelief as the data feeds from the other airtank in the little squadron spiked with red flashing warnings. One side of the vision dome flared white as the other airtank suffered a catastrophic quench; its superconducting storage banks converting their stored power into heat in an instant, the complex structures vaporising and emerging from vents as jet-engine blasts of incandescent gas.

"Main mirror is dead; disconnecting from optical network," Lazgo announced in a shaky voice, "no damage to laser array. Routing full power to secondary units." There was a pause, and Hakon could almost hear the gears turning in his gunner's head. "What just happened, this one has never seen--"

Gunfire alarms sounded, red circles flickering over parts of the display where the external microphone array caught the pressure pulses of supersonic projectiles, backtracking them to their launch points. Fresh injury icons started to appear over the 'friendly unit' tracking boxes, first a pair of gryphons, then from the People in powered armour. Lazgo spun the targeting reticule, but whatever was shooting seemed to be in several places at once.

"No clear shot, multiple hostiles," Lazgo snarled, his fear giving way to frustration and anger at his inability to get a clear shot. He had the same full three-sixty vision as Hakon and the orientation of the airtank made no difference to his ability to shoot; the laser network would switch the beam to any one of a dozen secondary emitters spread across the hull. "Take us up to get over the rubble."

Hakon nodded unconsciously, muttering a report to the command staff back at the access corridor, despite the 'comms degraded' warnings pulsing in the status window. "Likely multiple hostiles, taking fire from several locations." Without waiting for any reply he fed power to the plasma drive, filling the transit hub with electric blue light. Dust blasted away from the high velocity jets, but the sensors compensated with infra-red and millimetre wave imaging to render the choking cloud transparent. The computer had finally located one of the shooters, hiding behind the still burning wreck of the other airtank, so Hakon lifted straight up and angled in that direction.

For a moment he saw her, a deep blue servitor surrounded by a collection of objects floating in a haze of violet magic, then there was a stroboscopic pulse of light, the exact same colour, and the pony vanished. Laser fire, brilliant in the dusty air, raked the spot where it had been, making the concrete explode and shatter. Mind focused on flying his airtank and trying to avoid areas where the ceiling had partially come down, Hakon didn't notice the second flash of light occurring at the same instant, until the proximity alarm warbled. His head whipped around, following the direction of the warning sound. 

She was there.

How in the Maker's name-- The thought died stillborn and he stared at the apparition, half believing it to be another illusion, even while he yanked on the controls to run the pony down. Lazgo seemed too stunned by this unexpected appearance to use the airtank's weapons, and Hakon switched to cursing his useless gunner.

The creature was like no servitor he'd ever seen, and he began to get some inkling of how much trouble he was in when the pony lifted the large pole that had materialised with it. The pole vanished and his airtank staggered under a heavy impact, a wireframe model of the internal systems expanding to fill the lower half of the vision dome. Critical failure alarms sounded and Hakon tried to bring the airtank down safely, before it fell out of the sky.

It was only seconds before he realised the fight wasn't one he could win. The airtank hit the ground with bone rattling force, sliding to bury itself half in one of the walls. Shock mounts under his acceleration couch and the last vestiges of power from the drive saved his life, and Hakon was only stunned for a moment. Training and long kiloseconds of simulation work spurred him into motion even before his vision cleared, shaky paws dancing over the power system's virtual control panels, frantically trying to dump all the stored energy. Temperature spiked inside the main superconducting coils as safety systems, already damaged by half a length of steel pole shoved deep into the airtank's vitals, suffered a cascade failure.

Nearly a terajoule of energy was held in those coils. Inside the armoured power bay of the airtank, a part of the complex and dense mass of exotic element wiring exploded into vapour in less than a tenth of a second. This was only a small fraction of the total storage system, but this failure damaged the adjacent coils and started a thermal runaway within the airtank. The explosion delivered a solid shock to the back of Hakon's chair, his whole warning panel going red in an instant. Eyes wide with horror, he reached for the ejection handle between his booted paws. There was a fast building roar and a tremendous vibration coming from right behind his chair, the sound of white hot gasses trying to escape.

Bolts popped on the upper hull of the airtank, releasing the armour plate covering the pilot's capsule, but the rest of the ejection system failed to fire. Too much rubble overhead, bet the blow-out panels are blocked as well, Hakon thought, a fatalistic calm settling over him, despite the screaming and cursing from his gunner. He hunkered down in his couch and closed his eyes, thoughts returning to his long-time servitor crewmate. 

"Hope your next crew treats you well, you old nag," he muttered, as the bulkhead behind him failed and flooded his compartment with fire.

===

~~~ discontinuity ~~~

--materialised in a pulse of violet light behind the burning vehicle, just as a storm of gunfire was focused on where she had been. The jet-engine roar had died away, but the smashed and cratered side of the vehicle still radiated enough heat to be felt through her fur. It was still mostly whole -- of the projectiles she'd thrown at it, most had been deflected, with only one hitting at the right angle to punch through the armour -- and still provided good cover from three quarters of the chamber.

For a moment she was dazed, the sight of the maimed gryphon twisting her stomach and paralyzing her mind. What did you think was happening to them, you stupid filly? You saw them in the tunnels; things splash when you hit them hard enough. Somehow those casualties didn't seem really her fault; they were just something she'd discovered in the aftermath of a terrible accident. Gravity shied away from that train of thought, but too late. 

--the bloody, sightless eyes of the Security mare, her body slumped amid the wreckage of the first assault on the beam chamber, the sudden implosion of her magic at the instant Gravity's counterattack had overwhelmed her defences-- 

A sudden movement pushed the memory away, and Gravity saw her next target dashing out from behind a fallen chunk of ceiling, an insect fast biped with too many arms sprinting to the next bit of cover. This is better, she thought, get those responsible, not their slaves, letting fly with a fusillade of hoof-sized rocks. The shotgun pattern struck the figure high on the upper torso, hard enough to send it tumbling across the wreckage strewn floor. While it lay there, one arm moving weakly, Gravity struck again -- this time with a single boulder twice the size of her head. The rock shattered on impact and the suit's antimagic field flickered out.

The other airtank was moving now; its howling drive blasted dust and gravel in all directions as it came off crystal levitation and boosted for the altitude it needed to target her. Amid the chaos -- with over half the soldiers injured or dead, the rest hopelessly confused as to her real location -- the vehicle was uniquely vulnerable as it manoeuvred uncertainly in the confined space up near the ceiling. Gravity took the opportunity, picking up the heavy metal pole she'd saved as a combination club and lance, and--

~~~ discontinuity ~~~

--flicked her wings out, taking short strokes in the dusty air, in time to see the vehicle tilt towards where she had been, ruler straight lines of blinding green raking her hiding place. She was close, far too close -- barely outside the airtank's antimagic field -- and lashed out with her improvised spear, aiming for the emergency vents on the rear upper surface. Even as she did so, a quartet of miniature turrets on the upper surface flicked in her direction, armoured shields dropping to reveal secondary laser mirrors like hoof-sized eyes.

As she threw her spear the turrets moved again, dazzling green beams that would have turned her into vaporised blood and bone fragments converging instead on her weapon. Point defences designed to stop a small drone or missile able to get close enough to target the vents did little more than punch holes in the hundred kilo projectile; it struck home at just under the speed of sound, smashing through the lightly armoured vent covers. 

Lightning flashed around the base of the spear, spider-crawling over the surface of the airtank and grounding on the exposed metal of the damaged ceiling. The vehicle's plasma drives started to flicker and it staggered in the air--

~~~ discontinuity ~~~

--and Gravity appeared in a gap between a fallen stack of roof blocks and another of the tunnels that radiated out from the upper transit hub, much to the surprise of the powered armour Master who'd also decided it was a good place to hide. She hadn't known he was there; he'd realised that his antimagic field made him visible without actually offering that much protection against a creature able to throw multi-kilo rocks at railgun speeds, but that presented its own set of disadvantages.

He was still trying to get his rotary cannon aimed when Gravity's force field flicked on for a moment. For a heartbeat nothing happened, then the figure slumped, the suit falling apart where it had been neatly cut from helmet to groin. Blood splashed out like it had been dropped from a bucket, near black in the violet glow of her magic.

Gravity froze as the hot liquid sprayed over her chest and legs, what remained of her bloodlust draining away as fast as the Master's life. The concrete jumped under her hooves, the shock nearly unbalancing the pile of roofing blocks she hid behind, immediately followed by the thump of something massive striking the ground. Light flared, but dimmer than before; even the terrible atonal shriek of escaping gas seemed muted.

Gravity shivered as the light brightened enough that she could see what she'd done to the Master, before clenching her eyes tightly and turning her head away. The mare breathed shallowly through her mouth, but the stomach churning slaughterhouse smell was inescapable.

Eyes still closed, Gravity swept the hub with her shadow sight. There were far fewer antimagic fields visible than when she'd started, but despite seeking them out she'd not accounted for all of the Masters. Even as she watched, a pair started to leapfrog their way across the chamber floor towards her, one in a shooting stance while the other moved. Their speed came as an unwelcome surprise; even now she could imagine them, invisible with their thaumic defences off, racing around the sides of the chamber to get her in their sights.

That's enough to slow them down, she thought, time to go. Gravity glanced over at the tunnel she'd used originally -- the second vehicle had hit next to the opening and the ceiling had come down completely -- then called up the teleportation pattern and slotted in the ready prepared memory of the space next to the beam chamber, and--

~~~ pain ~~~

--something flowed across the shadow world like a surge of water over a fire, extinguishing the bright glimmers of magically active crystals as it passed. The pattern Gravity was just bringing to life collapsed, the delicate, complex spider's web of colour dissolving like spun sugar in water. The mare's shadow sight disappeared, normal vision bringing with it a pulse of pain that dwarfed her previous headaches.

Gravity collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath and struggling to hold on to her magic. She clamped down on that strange connection she had with the moons, fixing the sensation of cold mass in her mind, trying to keep something, anything of her power. 

Out in the chamber there were a series of hoarse cries and screeches, all cutting off abruptly as every airborne gryphon's flight magic failed and they plummeted to the ground.

A shiver ran through the mare, her mane and tail abruptly feeling lank and heavy after the last few kiloseconds of gossamer lightness. Despite her best efforts, the connection to the heavens narrowed to the merest whisper, so faint that she could barely feel it, leaving her with but a fraction of the strength she'd had. Even this took effort to keep, and Gravity thrashed her wings as she struggled to her hooves on the broken ground, fighting to weave what little power she had into a semblance of a shield against the suppressor.

The effort was a real, physical thing, like running a hard race or trying to hover in still air. Sweat rolled down the mare's flanks as she broke into a staggering trot, trying to put as much distance between herself and the transit hub full of undoubtedly angry Security troops. Wings half unfurled for balance, Gravity accelerated to a canter, then an uncertain gallop, trying to avoid the loose rubble and general detritus that littered the corridor floor.

The worst part was trying to juggle the attention required to see objects in her path early enough to avoid them -- a fall at this speed was bound to break something -- with the constant focus she needed maintain her tenuous link to the moons. Gravity's horn glowed with a dim radiance, its intensity totally at odds with the effort she was expending, but she didn't relent. The suppressor was a constant pressure in her mind, like a beast clawing at a door, horribly strong and screaming with deafening rage. She fought it with every stride, certain that if she let it in there was no hope for her.

If only I could have some peace to study this! she thought, finally dropping back to a canter as her strength started to give out. There was an underlying pattern to the pressure, a kind of semiregular oscillation that spoke of incomplete magical cancellation. It should be possible to reduce the effects, after all, that's exactly what the beam chamber shielding does. The mare started to weave the tiny amount of spare power she had left into a shield, something specific to this antimagic weapon.

Her concentration was shattered by the arrival of an ornithopter drone the size of a large dragonfly, the clatter of its wings barely audible over her pounding hooves. The thing kept pace with her, swerving when she tried to bat it with her own wing. It's one of theirs, she thought, her gait faltering, they've found me. Gravity abandoned her efforts to create a shield, diverting that portion of her meagre strength to try and grab the flying robot and hold it still. 

She could feel it easily enough, but actually getting a grip proved unpleasantly difficult. It wriggled in the fitful violet glow, wings vibrating fiercely, and Gravity let out an involuntary groan with the effort required to hold it still. The mare could feel it slipping, rotating in her grip as it tried to fly away -- it was managing it, too; the remnants of her magic were outclassed by this tiny machine. Gravity skidded to a halt, reaching out to grab it with her mouth, teeth closing on the rear half, just behind the wings.

For a moment she felt it wriggle against her tongue, the elongated rear section squirming as if it was a real insect, then she bit down, as hard as she could. The light-weight housing crunched and splintered between her teeth, the thin carbon wings scoring fine cuts on the end of her muzzle where they sprung back to their resting positions. The mare kept chewing, getting the body between the big molars at the back of her mouth. Abruptly there was a crackle and a sharp, burning pain against her cheek and she spat, working her jaw to rid it of the suddenly hot wreckage. 

The saliva covered drone hissed and sparked on the concrete; to complete the job she pressed one hoof against the sensor laden front end. It splintered with a satisfying crunching sound, but she didn't wait, immediately setting off for the elevator bank and its attendant ramp. 

The further she went, the closer she came to the central shaft. The damage to the corridors became more severe, low piles of rubble frequently choking the whole width. The mare was reduced to a trot, then a careful walk, picking her way over the unstable piles. Lighting was very poor; most of the emergency lights had failed amid the shockwaves and general destruction, leaving the corridors in shadowed darkness. By now, Gravity's night vision had completely recovered from the insult dealt to it by the burning airtanks, enough that the feeble glow of her horn left the mare at the centre of a shifting pool of radiance.

Skidding down the back side of a particularly large rubble pile -- Gravity was sure the top of the mound was somewhere above the original roof line, but fortunately the collapse had been extensive enough that there was plenty of room to get over it -- she began to worry about the state the ramp would be in. With every step she took towards the utility core the damage became steadily worse. What am I going to do if the ramp is impassable? she thought, then shook her head. 

Already she could imagine the insectile bipeds and their attendant gryphon soldiers pouring down the tunnel behind her. With the suppressor on they must know I'm vulnerable... and if they get to Fusion before me-- Gravity cut the thought off, trying to ignore the rising tide of panic, breaking into a trot despite the shifting and uncertain surface. There are other routes, but I only hope I made them angry enough to follow me instead. The mare laughed, a quiet, hysterical giggle that would have made anypony nearby take a nervous step back. 

The constant pressure in her mind made it hard to plan, but she clung to the dregs of her power like a foal clinging to its mother's legs. There were no other signs of pursuit, and a small part of Gravity wondered why she'd not seen any more drones, or why the Masters hadn't just sent some robotic weapon after she'd destroyed that flying camera. Did I hurt them that badly? she thought. Perhaps they're waiting for reinforcements -- after all, where can I go?

The elevator bank finally came into view and it was as she'd feared. The cluster of shafts had a broken look, like a bundle of giant pipes struck with a hammer, great cracks and holes leading off to total darkness that seemed to be full of unseen horrors. Slowing to catch her breath, Gravity picked her way to the doors over the ramp entrance, eyeing the mound of rubble in front of them with dismay. Scrambling to the top, she pushed her horn through the gap between the damaged doors, trying to illuminate the blackness beyond.

There was less damage on the other side, but the doors -- originally designed to swing open in both directions -- didn't move when the mare gave them a tentative push with her head. She shoved harder and was rewarded by a grating sound and a little bit of movement, the crack now large enough to push her hoof through. "I can do this," she muttered, digging all four hooves into the rubble and leaning against the door, then pushed with all her might.

It moved all of a hoof width.

Gravity relaxed when it was clear the door wasn't going to open any further. Faintly over the sound of her pounding heart, she heard a little rattling sound. Probably just some gravel falling from the roof, she thought, but held her breath in case it came again, twisting her ears in the direction of the noise. There was another sound, not the rattle of falling pebbles, but an odd kind of slithering. The mare's eyes widened and she carefully made her way back to the bank of elevators.

There it was again; the sound of something soft rubbing against stone, coming from the empty elevator shafts. Gravity crept forwards, ears pricked and sweeping the darkness for any hint of where it was coming from. "Oh, no," she whispered, staring at the cracks in the surfaces of the floor to ceiling tubes, then rushed forwards to press her ear against one of the smaller fractures. Distorted and echoing, but loud enough to be clearly audible, she heard it again, then there was a puff of air as something fell past the opening. A smell of ozone and explosives, underlain by a hint of rank fur and dusty feathers.

The mare jerked her head back with a gasp, the sound echoed by a strangled squawk from the gryphon on the other side of the tube wall. For a moment the pair stared at each other, lit by the faint glow of Gravity's horn. She could see the naked terror in the half-bird's eyes, great round saucers bleached grey by the violet light, then the soldier moved, reaching with one taloned foreleg for the autogun over his shoulder.

"The pony is here!" the gryphon whispered in a strangled tone that probably should have been subvocalised, twisting on the rope that had lowered him down the shaft. He finally got the gun aligned with the narrow opening, but Gravity had already gone.

The mare let out a whinny and spun away from the bank of lifts, her paralysis broken when the soldier had moved. Stupid filly! she thought, why didn't you make sure the shafts were smashed when you had the chance! They obviously thought the shafts were clear, otherwise they wouldn't have used them; if she couldn't get through the half-blocked doors, they'd get to the beam chamber before her.

Desperation drove her scrambling up the rubble pile to slam into the door, knocking it open another fraction of a length. Now wide enough to get her head through, Gravity pushed in as far as she could, jamming her shoulder against the rim of the door and using her head to push against the other with the big muscles of her neck. The tactic worked and she managed to get both forelegs through the gap.

Now she was part way through, Gravity could see what was causing the problem. A mass of tangled metal -- part of the cable run and ducting system that ran along the roof of these less frequented areas -- lay wedged between the back of the door and the wall; as she pushed against the door the metal bent a little, springing back when she relaxed. 

Gravity eyed the obstruction in dismay; the twisted plates and brackets were well and truly wedged in. She'd hoped for a few bits of rubble, something that once moved would stay moved. She struggled, trying to back out and get a better angle to push at, but the door had sprung back, digging into the soft flesh between her bony shoulders and the swell of her ribs. The mare wriggled, but couldn't get the leverage to retreat any further. She paused, catching her breath, and in the quiet heard a scrabbling noise from the direction of the elevator bank.

Panic filled her and she kicked out at the ground, bucking and rearing in an effort to drive her body through the gap. Sweat lathered her flanks and, painfully slowly, she squeezed further in, finally reaching her midshoulder and wing root. Gravity had already folded her wings fully back, stretching the tendons and muscles in directions they'd rather not go, and a burning ache was building up in the flight muscles that encircled her belly.

By now the pressure from the sharp door edges digging into her ribs was becoming almost too much to bear. Even if she could get back out the Security troopers would have realised that, despite her destruction of the drone, her magic wasn't a threat to any of them. Twisting sideways, she pulled her left wing up over her back, folding it through the opening and hooking it around the edge of the door.

There was an ear-shattering bang from somewhere behind and Gravity dove forward, pushing as hard as possible backwards with her wing. A surge of adrenalin and fear gave the mare extra strength and blanked out the ripping pain from her trailing wing, trapped between her torso and the other door. Almost mindless with terror -- and with her coat thoroughly lubricated with sweat and blood -- Gravity gave one last kick and tumbled free of the door.

The door snapped shut behind her as the springy metal relaxed, nipping the last joint of her tail through its covering of hair. The sudden pinpoint of agony overwhelmed the more distributed pain from her flanks and wings, shocking the mare from her panicked state. She jerked forwards, a bundle of long blue hairs pulling free from her flesh and adding an extra insult to the injury. Gasping and wide eyed, Gravity listened to the sounds of claws and paws scrabbling on the rubble in the elevator room, then a sudden, hard slam against the door she'd just squeezed through.

Jumping into motion, the mare leapt down the shallow spiral ramp, sliding on the loose fragments covering the smooth floor and colliding heavily with the curved far wall of the shaft the ramp was built into. Something wrenched in her right wing, another burning spike stabbing through the already abused muscles. Shocked and trembling, Gravity stared up at the door watching helplessly as it twitched open, something small and black poking through half way up.

Not a weapon, Gravity thought, as the object was pulled back, trying to kickstart her scattered mind, but the next thing will be. Pushing off from the wall, the mare staggered down the ramp, ears folded back in anticipation of another explosion. She'd made it a full turn of the ramp, and had accelerated to a drunkard's trot, when the expected happened. A shockwave stabbed at her ears, rubble and metal fragments striking the wall behind her and bouncing down the ramp to hit her legs, nearly robbing the mare of her precarious balance.

Sobbing with the effort, Gravity accelerated to a dangerously fast canter, half falling, half running down the ramp. Behind her there was the clatter of heavy booted paws on the concrete.

===

Fear and exertion made her heart pound and her breathing frantic, loud enough that she could no longer hear the sounds of pursuit. They were there; they had to be, so she pounded her hooves against the ramp's cracked and broken surface. She ran at the centre of a patch of thin violet light, the faint glow of the tiny bit of magic she'd managed to hold on to. Before her muzzle and behind her tail was nothing but a profound darkness, impossible to penetrate even with her excellent night vision.

She had almost no warning. One moment she was slipping and sliding on the gravel that lay in drifts over the concrete, the next the floor had dropped away into a yawning darkness. Useless wings backstroking in panic, the mare skittered over the rubble-strewn ramp, the broken edge approaching far too quickly. Gravity's precarious balance failed and her hooves went out from under her and she fell. 

The landing knocked the wind out of the mare, but probably saved her life. Sliding on the rough surface, Gravity came to a halt with her forelegs hanging over empty space; down below there must have been one of the surviving emergency lights, the faint reflection of which showed where the spiral ramp continued. Stunned with the scale of this disaster, she stared down into the void, gazing helplessly at the smooth walls of the shaft where the ramp had sheared off and collapsed.

It was a good five lengths down to the next intact turn, nothing to a pony with working wings, but it may as well been on the moon for all the chance she had of landing safely. At this height she'd break every bone in her body. Rolling sideways away from the drop, Gravity climbed shakily to her hooves, ignoring the stinging pains from patches of abraded skin on legs and belly. Her ears twitched; there was the clear sound of boots on concrete, but it was further away than she'd thought it would have been, at least four levels up.

Was I that fast? she thought, momentarily mesmerized by the approaching sounds. They seemed to come in little bursts, like her pursuers were taking turns to move. She'd taken an insane level of risk, practically galloping down the treacherous ramp in near total darkness. And all for nothing. Bitterness and self recrimination welled up, mixed in with fury at her own arrogance. Should have listened to you, sis. They'll kill me and you, or worse, just continue where they left off. 

The light from her horn brightened fractionally, some of the effort she'd spent on running freed up to add to her remaining power. Gravity felt the change and eyed the gap again, the anger fading as her mind, used to the physics of moving objects through space, unconsciously chewed on the problem and spat out an answer. Perhaps it will be enough, she thought. Whatever happens, I can't go back and I can't stay here.

Backing up a few paces, simply to get enough momentum to carry across the gap, Gravity listened to the approaching soldiers, then spread her wings and charged.

===

Gravity knew her wings wouldn't work, but she was so used to being safe in the air that actually jumping off the end of the ramp was easy. For a moment it was like any other flight, that fraction of time between leap and first wing beat where the magic would catch you and make physics look the other way while you soared heavenward. It was only a moment, though, and the sudden feeling of falling made the mare want to scream and thrash her wings.

She held on, kept her wings half raised like she was in the middle of a downstroke, despite every instinct telling her otherwise. Time telescoped, expanding the few seconds to a subjective eternity. As she fell, the visible detail of her landing site grew, a jumbled mass of rubble laced with twisted reinforcing bars where the upper turns had collapsed. There had been no time to test this plan and only a single chance to actually execute it should it even be workable.

The idea relied on the fact that the magic of horn and wing was linked, surrounding and filling a pony while she flew. Finally letting out the scream she'd been holding in for the last aeon, Gravity focused all her remaining strength on protecting her wings, thrusting them downwards at the last moment before impact. Shifting her attention from horn to wings came at a price, and the pressure from the suppressor intensified, sucking away her power with horrible speed. In moments it was all gone.

A moment was all the mare needed.

On that single, desperate, downstroke her feathers bit air, jerking up at her mid shoulders with a sudden, welcome, violence. Loose limbed and relaxed for the landing -- an instinct every pony had, and one of the few things she didn't have to fight against -- Gravity slammed into the ground hard enough that her legs buckled and her belly collided with the broken surface. Stunned only for an instant, the mare struggled to her hooves, feeling a sharp, stabbing pain along one flank. 

Something ripped in her side as she jerked upright, staggering over the rubble to a relatively flat section, before turning to look at where she'd landed. A liquid, black in the dim green glow, glistened on a twisted section of reinforcing bar that jutted upwards like a gutting hook. Eyes wide, Gravity stared at the jagged metal, then turned back to the descending ramp, trying not to think about the patch of liquid warmth spreading along her flank. Breaking into an unsteady trot, the mare limped towards the light.

As she moved, Gravity probed the space where her magic had been. All but the faintest traces had gone; the remainder was shifting and nebulous, impossible to pin down. Try as she might, there was nothing left. It was as if she was a foal again.

The source of the green glow came into view, blinding to her dark adapted eyes. It was not some emergency light as she'd assumed, but came from one of the kits that hung on the wall at intervals. Something had knocked it off its bracket hard enough to break it open; the same shock had activated one of the chemlights.

Gravity pawed through the spilled supplies, kicking the slim glowing cylinder out from under the collection of other equipment that, had she been able to operate it, would have been incredibly useful. She spared a mournful glance for the stack of wound patches, then lowered her head to pick up the chemlight with her teeth. The stab of extra pain from her side made Gravity hiss through her teeth and she paused, fighting the urge to throw up.

Her ears twitched as the sound of claws on stone echoed down from the upper part of the broken ramp. This wasn't the stealthy, intermittent rushing she'd been hearing ever since she'd stopped her head-long gallop, but a sudden, sliding stop. Gravity smiled around the glowing plastic tube. That should slow the gryphons down, at least, she thought, but I wonder how far those suits can jump? She hadn't actually seen them fly, but the things could be very fast, and she wouldn't be surprised if they could jump down safely.

There was a sudden rush of sound and feathers, that of a large body falling freely, then a loud squawk and a near subliminal thump, followed by hoarse screaming. Gravity's already slightly crazy grin widened and she gave a near hysterical giggle, before resuming her trot down the ramp.

===

The sound of pursuit resumed almost immediately, but there seemed to be fewer of them. The noises also appeared to be different; fewer legs, but heavier pawsteps. Gravity picked up the pace, then nearly stumbled when the floor suddenly flattened out. I've nearly made it, only another couple of hundred lengths. The thought was wonderful, lifting her spirits now that she'd finished with the seemingly endless spiral ramp. Down here the damage was also less severe, and her uncertain trot accelerated into a pained canter, dodging the occasional block of fallen concrete.

The patch of fur between her wing roots itched with the anticipation of a shot, but nothing ever came. The temptation to turn and look, to discover exactly where they were and get rid of the uncertainty, was horribly strong, but the mare resisted, pushing on until she'd reached the final turn. Ahead was the long straight corridor leading to the radiation lock she'd smashed open at the start of this mess; with none of the twists and turns of the rest of her route, there was the risk that her lead wouldn't be enough. 

As fast as the suits were, nothing could really match a pony for speed over ground -- one of the reasons she was glad that the gryphons had been held back by the collapsed ramp, although no doubt they'd be following as soon as a rope could be rigged -- but it wasn't as if the Masters would have to actually catch her.

Nostrils flaring, Gravity opened into a full gallop, ignoring the risk of a trip or fall. There was a cleared path, with the occasional mound of debris on each side, and she silently gave thanks that the Security ponies had done such a good job for the assault force.

Half way down the corridor and Gravity was at full stretch, head down and mane and tail flying back in the slipstream. A green lightning flash illuminated the corridor, throwing hard shadows against the walls and ceiling. The mare clenched her teeth around the chemlight and swerved to place one of the piles of rubble between her and the pursuing Master. I'll never get to the entrance without getting shot, she thought, searching frantically for an alternative.

She'd badly damaged this corridor when she'd cut up the walls to create enough wreckage to slow the Security force down, and this proved to be her salvation. Just to her right, almost hidden by a fold in the debris, was a curved hole a little way up the wall. Cut by her force field, the edges were razor edged and gleamed in the green chemlight glow. Too small, she thought, if I touch the edge… Her wings ached with the memory of her first encounter with such an opening, but the sound of running pawsteps was getting closer and the mare didn't hesitate.

Wings held tight and head lowered, Gravity kicked out with her hind legs and jumped through the opening. Forelegs pulled up to her chest, the pains of her wounded side were forgotten as she sailed past the cut surfaces with room to spare. Something tugged at her rear left hoof and the leap turned into a tumble, sending the mare crashing into the desks and chairs that filled the office area. Lying on her side and stunned for a second, Gravity stared at her hind leg, a little surprised to see that it was still there.

She must have just clipped the edge; a neat strip of skin had been removed from hock to top of the hoof, the surface of which looked strangely shiny and flat. The frightening thing was that she couldn't feel any pain from this new injury; the edges were so sharp that there was little signal from the severed nerves. A thin stream of blood started to trickle along her leg. The sight ran through her like an electric shock and the mare wriggled upright, trotting deeper into the complex of rooms surrounding the access corridor.

Will he follow me or just race ahead? The thought was a troubling one; she'd only heard one set of pawsteps, so at least there was only one to deal with. The confines of the office space restricted her movement a little; the rooms were sized for servitors, but the damage had thrown everything about. Despite this, Gravity was able to keep to a trot, with the occasional leap over some bit of fallen furniture. He'll race ahead, he has to. How much of a lead do I have?

The mare reached the last room, the one still holding the pair of discarded power suits and the hidden fuel-air explosive, and hesitated, ears swivelling to catch any sound. There was nothing, no running pawsteps, no clank of metal on ceramic. He's waiting, she thought, there is clear line of sight as soon as I leave the side room. She hopped from hoof to hoof. So close! The gap in the wall was large and she could get through it at a canter, if she wasn't worried about stopping.

Gravity was just nerving herself up to take the chance, when there was a subdued thump and a cylinder about size of an apple flew across the opening, straight into the radiation lock and on into the beamline chamber. The mare's eyes widened; it could be only one thing. There was no time to plan, only to react.

Her hind legs bunched and she kicked off, flicking her head sideways to throw the chemlight out in front of her. The glowing tube spun through the air and the mare followed it, all of the strength in her hips and back accelerating her to a gallop in the only a few strides. A blinding line of green slashed out at the chemlight, spearing the space Gravity would have been, had she been carrying it. 

Two paces to go and the opening was approaching fast. There was a flash and bang from inside the beam chamber, dust blasting out of the opening. No, no, no, no-- The thought cut off as the searing thread of light pulsed again, somewhere behind her, but then the smashed radiation lock door flashed past and Gravity was back inside the shielding. The laser licked through the opening, blasting shallow craters in the floor and walls, followed by another of the cylinders.

Instinctively, she reached out for it and was delighted when the inside of the radiation lock lit up with pale violet horn light. The cylinder stopped in its flight, reversing direction and disappearing back the way it came. There was another explosion, quieter than the first, the sound muffled by the ringing in her ears. All of Gravity's aches and pains seemed to evaporate with the joy of returning power, a heady rush that filled her from horn tip to tail root.

It was the matter of a moment to throw a force field across the opening, then drag one of the discarded panels from the shutter system up behind it to block any laser fire. A single gliding jump had the mare inside the chamber, and she wheeled around to land in front of her sister and Lilac. Sobbing, Gravity pulled away the debris that had settled on both ponies, throwing it across the room in her haste to make sure they were unhurt.

Safe, praise the Maker, you are safe. Her relief was vast, the weight of the world vanishing from her back. It was a mere stroke of luck that had saved them; the grenade had detonated towards the back of the room, its fragments soaked up by the central instrument cluster.

"I'm sorry, I should have listened," she babbled, "we should have gone as soon as I could manage it." She gathered up Fusion and Lilac in her telekinesis, more magic reaching out to pick up the collection of hardware she'd taken from the Security force. The ready prepared teleportation pattern sprang into her mind, only a push away from being real. The mare leapt off the ground, ignoring the ache in her wings to hover with quick, sure strokes.

Something struck her force field, hard enough that it made her magic falter. More strikes followed and the effort required to keep the field up started to tax her weakened state. Gritting her teeth with the effort, Gravity held a lump of rubble over the manual trigger for the explosives she'd planted in the Institute, then pushed--

~~~ discontinuity ~~~

There was a pulse of violet light and the beamline chamber went dark. A slender, four armed biped burst through the opening a moment later, only to be greeted by an empty room and the fitful glow of a rapidly failing telekinesis spell. Half a second later the magic died completely, allowing a rock to fall a quarter length.

Shock tubes flashed yellow for an instant, then a searing wave of fire filled what was left of the underground facility.

> 32 - Falling Free
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist

Preread by: KMCA
Edited by: ssokolow 


=== Chapter 32 (remastered) -- Falling Free ===


The disorientating pulse of somepony else's magic and the vicious slap of air made solid by sudden velocity nearly knocked Fusion unconscious. Reflexes born of megaseconds of flight time fought the wind and half-seen tumbling horizon, but her wings and body failed to respond. Her limbs, loose and supple from the drugs, flexed and bent in ways they weren't designed to, sending bursts of pain through already abused muscles. The chaotic motion subsided and the mare rapidly settled into a stable position, falling on her back with wings and legs trailing in the fast, turbulent slipstream.

Gasping for breath, Fusion studied the world through a stinging eye, thankful that her attitude had exposed the one she'd lost, rather than the other way around. Without the ability to squint... She could see a wide swathe of the sky and a portion of the horizon, made hazy and indistinct by kilolengths of air. There were clouds, a scattering of wispy things like a pony's tail, far, far above, with a broken layer of puffy rain clouds below. Through the gaps she caught glimpses of a rumpled dark green surface, laced with the silver threads of rivers and speckled with blinding white patches of snow. 

Panic started to build and Fusion thrust it aside, focusing on the problem of what had happened. Celestia was up, in roughly the right position from what she remembered, so she was in about the right place. She was falling free, that was obvious; the emergence altitude was high, exactly as she'd planned with Gravity when they'd carefully selected the section of memory that would give them the best chance of surviving the long jump to the northern latitudes of Lacunae's territory. That only leaves the spell, she thought, something we missed, something that only happens on long jumps.

How does the teleport behave with multiple objects? she thought, wracking her memory for the patterns she'd used during her few tests. Each thing should emerge in the same relative position as it started, but... Perhaps slight differences in start position translate to differences in exit coordinates, differences magnified by the enormous length of this jump. ...have we been scattered along the axis of the jump, spread across kilolengths of air? Where are you, sister? Are you gliding, confused and alone, searching for me?

Sadness swept in to fill the space left by the panic. Tears, already filling her eye in response to the slipstream, started to flow in earnest, carried up along her muzzle to fly from the tip in a glittering stream. 

Not long now. At least it will be fast.

===

Gravity was kicked back into consciousness at the insistence of her inner ear, the normally quiet voice of instinct screaming loud enough to wake her from the arcane overexertion faint she'd succumbed to when the spell had activated. The mare tumbled nose over tail in the howling wind, the brilliant sun and sky flashing past fast enough to add to her disorientation. Desperately tired and aching all over, she squeezed her eyes shut and pulled her wings in, then pushed them out with little flutters of motion, forcing the stiff muscles to respond. Her instincts turned the chaotic tumble into a nose-first dive at the ground and the stomach churning motion stilled, allowing her a first clear look at her surroundings.

High clouds, clear air and the distant ground, but nothing else. No sign of Lilac or Fusion, or any of the equipment she'd started the jump with. Closing her eyes again, Gravity opened her shadow sight and swept the area for anything. The world was dark; there was almost no sign of any magic at all, just a faint trace of colour on the horizon that might have been a distant near-surface transit line. Gravity suppressed a shiver at the emptiness and kept looking, hunting for the hint that she knew must be there.

There... a speck of pastel light against the shadowy bulk of the distant ground, already small and getting smaller. The mare tipped over and fell towards that dot, eyes closed and wings folded. That part of an aerial creature's brain, accentuated in Gravity to an astonishing degree by her remote manipulation talents, did the calculations and came back with an answer. Too slow, she thought, I'm not going to catch her in time.

Gravity's fatigue- and shock-addled mind finally caught up with her instincts, doing the mental equivalent of flicking a wing across her muzzle. You stupid-- Her horn flared and magic reached across the emptiness to fold around the falling pony. Fusion felt too... light. The mare pumped her wings, ignoring the stabbing pain from her wounded side and the various aches from muscles and accelerated after the falling pony while telekinetically braking its descent. 

Careful, careful... she thought, enough power to stop the fall without bringing them to a sudden halt. With no time to practice, the mare had no real feeling for this kind of manipulation; fine control was beyond her, something made worse by her exhausted state. The fear of accidentally using her full strength -- smashing the poor unfortunate just as thoroughly as any impact with the ground -- flushed her system with adrenalin, sharpening her senses and giving her wings a burst of much needed strength.

There were techniques she'd seen performed by some of the better weather team members but never had the strength or need to attempt, methods that could make a pony approach the performance of a machine aircraft. Desperation made her grab at any possibility and, as the air thundered past, Gravity started to shunt it aside. Flicking it past her body, she threw it backwards with all the force she dared not use on the other pony. 

Her speed jumped and kept climbing, her initial clumsy efforts becoming more efficient, until the other pony grew large and flashed past her. Come on, where are you -- you're not that much heavier than Lilac, she thought. A dim flicker of white-gold, only really visible because the background was so dark, caught her attention, and Gravity reached out to cradle her sister.

Got you.

===

A violet haze bloomed over her body and Fusion felt the welcome surge of acceleration pulling the blood from her extremities. The howl of the wind lessened and, within moments, the grinning shape of Gravity was gliding next to her. Even if she'd been able, Fusion wouldn't have smiled back. Instead she looked on in mute horror at the injuries peppering her sister's body.

Little patches of blood matted Gravity's fur and feathers. It oozed from burns, scratches and cuts all over her flanks and legs -- and even her tail hadn't escaped unscathed; there was a knot of something dark and sticky just where her flesh and blood tail ended. All of that paled into insignificance against the patch near her ribs. 

Something had stabbed Gravity halfway up her chest, leaving a puckered wound almost lost amid the dirt and fragments that covered the rest of the mare. The injury was still bleeding, soaking through the fur to extend great runnels of scarlet along Gravity's flanks and belly before being whipped away as fine drops in the slipstream. Each wingbeat looked strained; a faltering stiffness where there should have been smooth power.

There was another surge of acceleration, sideways this time, then Gravity's horn brightened fractionally. The mare emitted a grunt, her smile replaced with a grimace of pain, and set her wings to a glide. The limp shape of Lilac, folded into a peaceful-looking sleeping position, dropped out of the sky to float on Gravity's other side. Other objects, the misshapen lumps of abandoned Security equipment that she'd stolen from the force she'd defeated, started to flow in from various points of the compass.

Fusion felt the familiar pressure in her head, then her own tear-distorted, lopsided view of the world was replaced by what Gravity could see. The world was wide and rumpled, like an untidy blanket, green and white with what had to be snow, shot through with the threads of silver she'd glimpsed before. The forest was still a surprising distance below, too distant to make out the individual trees without magical enhancement. I could have sworn I was falling for ages, Fusion thought to herself. Not a last second rescue after all. 

There was something odd about the sharing; there was none of the crispness she was used to. The world seemed to be out of synchronisation, parts moving even while they flew at a flat, steady glide. Gravity, wha-- Fusion said, cutting off suddenly as a tremor ran through her sister's frame.

"Don't say it, sister, I know. You were right and I was wrong." Gravity was mumbling the words far too quietly for Fusion to hear across the rush of air, instead she was hearing them through Gravity's own ears.

I don't care about that. How badly injured are you? Can you land?

"It's always easy to find the ground." Gravity giggled, the sound making Fusion's fur stand on end even through the drugs. Some feedback of Fusion's own worry must have penetrated the other mare's dazed state, and the sharing sharpened a little. "I'm tired, Fusion, and I hurt all over... most of all my pride. I- I went too far, I should never have cut myself off from an easy retreat."

What happened? All I could hear was distant explosions, then everything went very quiet. Fusion could feel her body responding to the remembered panic, breathing accelerating and sweat beading on her flanks. When something exploded in the beam chamber, I was sure the Masters had come for me, and that could only mean-- She clamped down on the thoughts, trying to hold her emotions in check. I thought they had you, that you were dead or collared in the back of some Security airtruck... I welcomed the Masters, wanted them to kill me so I wouldn't have to live in this unfair world without you.

Gravity was silent for so long that Fusion started to think the sharing spell was failing, then the other mare inhaled deeply and sighed. "I'll show you it all, when we're on the ground."

The world through Gravity's eyes was starting to blur again, and the blue mare shook her head repeatedly to try and clear her vision. Flashes of pain were leaking through the sharing, small at first then building with startling intensity. It felt like there was a knife stuck between her ribs; with every twitch of Gravity's wings a cruel paw gave the blade a twist.

Gravity's breathing deepened, coming in great gasps that added a regular beat to the torture. "I'm having trouble concentrating, can't think straight. Guide me in, find somewhere fa--" Everything went dark as Gravity's eyes sagged shut and the magic holding Fusion up abruptly died.

There was the sickening sensation of free-fall, but the sharing was still open. She started to tumble, differential air resistance making them drift apart as the wind howl built again. Sge caught brief glimpses of the blue mare, eyes closed and wings limp, as she spun. Fusion poured all of her panic and fear down the link in a near instinctive response, and Gravity jerked awake, her magic snapping out and pulling Fusion close, practically hugging the mare to her side under her left wing.

You concentrate on flying, I'll find somewhere safe, Fusion said, trying to ignore the pounding of her own heart and the pain and fatigue that flowed back through the sharing. The ground was getting closer, no longer a near-featureless green blanket, but hills and valleys coated with a fuzz of sharp-looking evergreen trees. These were so unlike the soft broadleaves of the orchards or the managed hunting preserves; there were no spaces to land, just a close woven tangle of spindly trees.

Gravity was dropping lower, her wing-beats too infrequent to maintain altitude. Bear right a nose, head for that notch in the ridge, Fusion said. In truth, there was little choice; the land here was full of knife-like ridges and deep, brush choked valleys, any of which would make a poor landing spot. The ridge came closer and they flashed over the edge with only a couple of lengths between the tallest trees and Gravity's hooves. The reason for the notch became obvious; here was a mountain torrent busy cutting its way through the land, one that had gouged a respectable valley from the neighbouring hills.

Soaring over the waterfall, Fusion finally found what she'd been searching for -- a flat, pebbly expanse flanking the river, obviously formed when it was in full flood. Although scattered with larger boulders and occasional patches of snow, it was far and away the best spot either of the ponies had seen. At Fusion's prompting, Gravity dropped for a close pass, then flared her wings for final approach.

With a constant stream of guidance from Fusion, Gravity came in for a hesitant landing, staggering a few paces before collapsing to the ground. If she'd been able, Fusion would have sighed with relief; never had a bed of cold, hard rocks felt so comfortable. Gravity lay next to her, eyes wild and still puffing and blowing, chest working like a set of bellows, unable to quite believe she'd made it. 

All that and she still won't stop, Fusion thought with pride, as she watched the mare climb awkwardly to her hooves, head and wings drooping.

"Can't stop, got to fix my mistakes," Gravity said through gritted teeth. The pain through the sharing had subsided a little, but she walked with an obvious limp.

You saved us all, Fusion said, not embarrassed at all that Gravity had overheard what should have been internal thoughts. You got us away, clean away. It will be megaseconds before they can clear enough of the Institute to check for bodies. They won't even know where to look.

"We'll see," the other mare replied, opening the pony sized black bags they'd used to pack the vast collection of hardware scavenged from the Security troopers and the Institute. The real prize had been four emergency kits, each with their sealed medical supplies. Gravity popped open the first she found, extracting the trauma spray and liberally using it on herself. Within moments the pain subsided and a little of the hollow look faded from her eyes.

Fusion looked on wistfully as the blue mare walked carefully over to the edge of the river proper, slipping occasionally on the icy rocks, then dipped her muzzle into the water and took a long drink. The water was achingly cold and perfectly clear, seeming to flood her sister's body with energy in a way that even the drugs couldn't match. Her own thirst, brought on by breathing dust laden air, became apparent. It was nothing she couldn't ignore for now, just another unwelcome distraction she was unable to fix.

The close view of the riverbed with its rounded pebbles and tiny fish shifted as Gravity lifted her head and slowly swept her gaze around the valley. Steep-sided hills covered with the ubiquitous evergreens flanked the valley floor, itself only flat because the river must have flooded frequently enough to grind out this enlarged bed. To the south was the muted thunder of the waterfall they'd flown over, currently hidden behind mist and glare from the low sun. 

The mare spent a few seconds to stretch her wings carefully in the sunlight, inspecting the feathers for damage, then walked back to the other ponies. "How are you feeling? I can catch a little through the sharing, but it's hard to tell if it's you or me," she said to Fusion, while gently lifting the young stallion off the ground to inspect his laser wound. 

Lilac seemed to have come through the ordeal with little extra damage and was still sleeping with the death-like stillness of the heavily sedated. There was no sign of any further bleeding. One of my legs has gone to sleep and I'm lying in an ice-water puddle, but nothing serious, Fusion said. You should do something about that injury on your flank, get it cleaned up and covered.

Gravity inspected the wound with a critical eye. "Looks like that spray has stopped the bleeding, at least. It will keep for a kilosecond while I sort something out for you two."

Take it easy. It might not hurt any more, but that's all the more reason to be careful.

Gravity grunted in reply, picking up Fusion and slowly working her legs until the feeling came back. The mare was careful, but her control wasn't what it should have been. After the second time Gravity stretched a muscle a little too far, Fusion called a halt to the exercise and settled for letting her legs dangle while the blue mare started to thread her way through the tangle of trees.

===

The ground was rough, strewn with moss-covered logs, but the further they went from the riverbank the larger and more widely-spaced the trees became. Spindly saplings sprouted everywhere, growth stunted by the dense canopy, just tall enough to scratch at Gravity's belly as she pushed through them. She could still feel the pain from her wounds, but it was a remote thing, like the flicker of lightning within a distant storm cloud. Worse was the fatigue; the false energy from her escape and safe landing had bled away with the steady uphill slog through the trees.

"That's enough," she said, stopping at a spot where a large tree had fallen, taking a number of its smaller neighbours with it. She lowered her cargo to the floor, placing the ponies on the flattest spot she could find, then paused to sweep the area with her shadow sight.

Nothing, she thought, I've never seen such a perfect blackness. Even the distant glow of the transit line had been swallowed by her flight to this spot. Short-lived force fields flickered, stripping the branches from the fallen giant, telekinesis stacking the brush downslope while more fields sectioned the logs, then sliced them lengthwise into thick planks. Rocky dirt was scooped out of the cleared area, cutting a notch into the steep slope and forming a flat area big enough for all of them.

"Can you imagine doing this without magic?" she said, trying to ignore the line of warmth that was working its way down her foreleg. Her vision swam and Gravity shook her head, breathing deeply from the effort. This should be easy, she thought, starting to get worried. A foal could do this. The weariness was rising like a tide, taking her ability to focus with it. Her boundless power faded, the movement of wood and earth becoming clumsy.

That's enough now, sister, Fusion said firmly from the middle of her head. You must rest. Treat yourself and eat something. I can smell blood... have you opened that wound again?

"Yes, mother," she muttered, "just a few more seconds."

The planks had already been laid over the rammed dirt; it was the work of a moment to pull up the springy boughs she'd stashed and make three improvised sleeping pads. Fusion and Lilac were placed on the first two, Gravity collapsed gratefully on the last, sighing with relief. Clumsily she pulled over an emergency kit and started work with the medical supplies, alternating between cleaning the stab wound on her chest with bites from a field ration pack.

The compressed grain blocks, heavily fortified with sugars, were surprisingly tasty for such stored food. Energy started to return to the mare's movements, and she completed her work in a few hundred seconds. The last step was the magically active bandage, and she watched, fascinated, as it bonded with her skin and started to knit the torn muscles together. "Not as good as a real medic, but still..." she murmured, then yawned. "I hope it's safe to sleep here, because I really need to."

I didn't see any animal tracks, but there's bound to be something here.

Gravity groaned, reaching out with her magic again, picking up the unused tree sections and jamming them into the dirt to form a crude palisade. "It will have to do. The way I'm likely to feel later it would be a mercy if a bear ate me before I wake." 

There's one more thing to do, if you are feeling up to it. It's probably more important than anything else.

"Really? What--" Gravity went quiet, then sighed. "It would be better now, I guess. Show me what to do."

===

Lilac awoke to the cold snapping at the end of his muzzle and a prickling sensation all over his back and belly. It was dark, far darker than the lab with its ever present banks of displays, and everything was rendered in shades of black and dark grey. Something fibrous and springy with a fresh smell covered all of his body, just leaving his head poking out from the pile. Despite the cold air, he wasn't shivering; to his left and right were patches of warmth and fur, pressed in close under the strange covering.

Old half-forgotten memories surfaced, prompted by the organic smells assaulting his nostrils. Recollections of running through wild spaces full of growing things, so different from the measured exercise regimen in the lab, filled his mind with a sense of homesickness so strong that it became hard to breathe. A twitch of movement from his right dispelled the emotion, replacing it with the unfamiliar sting of anger.

They lied to me, he thought, kept Masters against their will, probably even hurt them. They tricked me into helping them. A familiar flash of pain, curiously truncated, lanced up his neck and made his jaw lock for a moment. It was over in a second, leaving a curiously empty feeling in his head.

They have stolen me away from my Masters.

Ears flattened in anger, Lilac opened his shadow sight and swept the darkness for any sign of life. There were none of the hard glows of the Master's crystal magic, nothing at all, just the soft glimmer of the two ponies sleeping next to him. One seemed normal, if a little faint, while the other... Shifting lights, like a part of the debris ring seeded with heliostats filled the midnight silhouette. The stallion had never seen anything quite like it, and the sight made him pause in wonder despite what the mare had done.

The shape moved slightly, breathing in deeply and letting the air out with a wordless grumble. Asleep... they are both asleep. If I could walk, I could escape... The thought tailed off as he inspected his own hindquarters. There was no feeling there at all, despite the way they were folded against the back of the blue mare. Looking deeper his heart sank at the extent of the damage. Somepony had made an effort at repairs, but all they'd done was seal off the severed ends of his gut and rerouted the blood vessels.

I don't know how to fix that, but perhaps if I can get far enough away I could signal somepony. The repairs had extended to his spine; the stallion had been focused on fixing the major blood vessels at the time, but he clearly remembered the mess the laser had made of his belly. That needle of hot light had pulverised a whole vertebra, but it's been fixed, so why... A closer look and he had his answer; there was a piece of spinal cord missing, one big enough to push a hoof through. 

So no walking out. His wings twitched. Why did my Master take my feathers? Takeoff without legs would be painful, but at least he could get somewhere faster than just using magic to drag himself along the ground. Perhaps I can signal from here? Lilac's gaze shifted back to the glowing glass sculpture of the mare lying next to him. She'd never let me do that if she were awake... but what about now? Can I stop her from hurting any more Masters? Both ponies were sound asleep, it would be easy to reach in and...

Lilac tentatively reached out with his magic, hesitating as the tendrils of power touched the mare's glowing body. There was no reaction and he wove the net of spellstuff, coiling it around her heart. The slow, steady, rhythm of the muscle filled his mind, and the stallion traced the delicate nerves that provided the timing impulses. He'd only had the most basic education in the healing arts, but the very first thing you learnt was how to avoid doing more damage during a simple repair.

Pain control required the blocking of nerve impulses; a slight shift in the nature of the magic... Lilac gritted his teeth, hesitating before making this final act. She stole me away, tricked me into holding a Master against his will. The memory was as clear as anything he'd ever experienced, the futile struggles of Officer Largorth against his telekinesis branded into his mind. Even injured though he was, it had been no more difficult than restraining a squirming kitten.

The anger vanished, replaced with a flood of shame and guilt, and he flinched in expectation of the Maker's punishment. The searing agony he'd felt back in the beam chamber had been a terrible thing, worse even than when he'd been shot, and had gone on and on until something had knocked him out. A little whimper escaped his lips, the anticipation stretching his nerves to breaking point. Please Maker, don't torture me like this! There was nothing, just a singing emptiness that left only confusion in its wake.

What does this mean? Have I already been punished enough? Lilac stretched his senses, searching for some flash of pleasure or pain that would guide him towards the right path, but hearing only the distant thunder of the mare's heart. He gnawed at his lips, pulling the wandering threads of spellstuff back into alignment. She has caused so much damage and she's too strong for any normal pony to stop... but I could do it. If I do this, the Masters are sure to forgive me... I'll be able to get back to helping with the research!

The thought made his breath quicken with excitement, and he nearly completed the spell right there. Other memories intruded: Gravity standing between him and the gryphon, the feeling of belonging when she'd taken him with her, and the way she'd rescued him from that robot thing. No, not a robot, Lilac thought dully, feeling sick, a Master in a suit. A Master who had wanted him dead, even though the Maker had given no inkling that he'd done wrong.

The Maker gives me joy when I serve correctly, but even when I do my best for the Masters, they still hurt me. I should stop her, I know I should, but... Lilac froze, the agony of indecision an almost physical pain, as he tried to understand what the Maker wanted of him.

The Maker, for the first time in as long as he could remember, was silent.

===

Something was tickling one of Fusion's fetlocks and without thinking she moved her hoof, sighing when the irritation disappeared. Wait, what? she thought, gently moving her leg again. Her leg moved -- jerkily, but it moved! Joy, so pure that it could have come from the Blessing, flooded through the mare and she lifted her head to call out to Gravity.

The words died on her lips, silenced by the quiet sounds of a pony sobbing from right beside her. Eyes wide in the darkness, Fusion finally noticed the glow of blue hornlight, a paler shade than Gravity's near ultra-violet hue. A similar glow was flickering over her sister's chest, tendrils of light that seemed to vanish into the fur. Gravity was still fast asleep; it was Lilac who was crying, tears shimmering in the arcane light as they ran down his muzzle.

Alarmed, Fusion opened her shadow sight, examining the magic flowing from Lilac. What she saw made her blood run cold; whatever spell he was casting had woven itself around Gravity's heart and lungs, blue strands that vanished into invisibly fine threads connecting to her nerves. The magic had the taste of Spiral's healing to it, but as far as she could tell there was nothing actually wrong with her sister. Not yet, anyway, Fusion thought, glad she'd resisted her first instinct to dive in and pull the spell apart.

"Are you alright, Lilac?" Fusion said, her voice weak and scratchy.

The youngster gasped, head whipping around and ears folding back. "Don't try anything, or I'll-I'll--" The halo around his horn grew fractionally brighter, the tentative threads of magic solidifying into something like an active pattern.

Fusion gathered her own magic, ready to pounce. "You don't want to do anything hasty," she said softly, a whisper so faint that Lilac had to prick his ears up to hear her. "I know what you are going through, I--"

"How could you know?!" Lilac's returning whisper was fierce, his misery turning to anger in a heartbeat. "I feel like--"

"--you have been abandoned. Your one source of comfort and certainty, your only purpose in life, has been ripped away. That you don't know what to think, or the difference between right and wrong. You feel like you are alone in the universe."

Lilac didn't reply, just looked stunned, his mouth working like he was trying to speak.

"I lost my Blessing in an accident.” The mare’s ears twitched, a shiver running down her spine at the memory. “It took me a megasecond to realise the truth. The Masters had separated me from my sister and locked me in a small room... all I could think about was the emptiness in my head." Fusion lowered her head, resting it on her forelegs. "That was a very bad night, coming right after a terrible day... but I came to terms with it, and it let me see the world as it really is. You don't need those little jolts to show you the right path, Lilac."

"But I do," he said brokenly, "it's too late now, I've failed my Masters. If I was better I could have stopped you both. That's what I should do, but..." His head wobbled from side to side, the glowing point of his horn describing irregular arcs.

"Yes. The Maker would want you to kill Gravity and me, then find some way to return to the Hive and do whatever the Masters told you to do."

Lilac seemed to shrink into himself. "I don’t want to, but it's the only way I can think of to help the Masters."

"It would have been so easy," Fusion continued remorselessly, leaning forwards to stare intently at Lilac, "both of us were asleep, exhausted. You could have cut my sister in half with a force field -- me too, with the same field, if you got the size right. We probably wouldn't even have felt it."

The stallion's eyes grew wide with panic and he leaned back to escape the intensity in Fusion's voice. "I-I--"

"But you didn't. You picked something subtle, something that would give you time to come to a decision, one way or another. How long were you sitting there, knife next to my sister's heart, unable to take the final step?"

"I should have done it... but I couldn't. I-I don't know why."

"You still can. I'd probably be too slow to stop you," Fusion said, failing to keep a tremor from her voice. "Gravity was the only pony to stand up for you; she did everything she could to protect you. Did the Masters ever do anything for you, or did they just do things to you?"

"The Maker--"

Fusion shook her head. "Not the Maker. The Maker is an aspect of the Blessing, which is given by the Masters, it... it's complicated, clever and very, very nasty, managing to take a pony and turn him into a willing agent of his own oppression. I can show you everything I've discovered... but it will take time. Are you willing to trust me for a little while?"

"You said I could still stop you..." Lilac said in a small voice. "I don't understand."

"You've been alone for a long time, haven't you?" Fusion said softly. "Nopony to play with or to test yourself against. Just machines and Masters. I would try and stop you, but your pattern looks complete and it wouldn't take much to activate. I'd try, of course... but spells have a habit of failing in odd ways if you don't take the time to dismantle them correctly."

"Why are you telling me this? I could kill her!"

"I want you to trust me. You... you hold the thing I care most about in the world hostage. I want to give you the best chance I can to make a decision for yourself, uninfluenced by what was done to you."

"What difference would it make? If I did it you'd kill me, then carry on with your plan anyway."

The mare's ears folded back until they were almost invisible. "I would not. I would be very angry, but I would know it wasn't your fault. I would return you to your Masters, if you wished it." Fusion narrowed her eyes, staring off into a future filled with fire, and her voice became harsh. "I would also know that there was no hope for our people, that if I can't convince even somepony in your situation of what's right, then everypony else is trapped for all time. I would probably become the monster that my sister thinks she is."

Lilac's eyes widened and he shrank away, nostrils flaring and ears almost as far back as Fusion's. "I u-understand... I'll listen."

The stallion relaxed a little as Fusion's features calmed and, with the help of the sharing spell, the mare told him everything she knew and everything that had happened over the last megasecond. As she talked, the glow around Lilac's horn faded, his carefully constructed spell losing a little cohesion with each revelation. When Fusion was finished, dawn had coloured the eastern sky and Lilac looked almost drunk from all the shocks he'd received. Finally he held up one wing, covering his face with the clipped feathers. 

"Enough! Please, enough. I believe you... but what can I do now? I was going to kill your sister." He lowered the wing, looking up at Fusion's face with haunted eyes. "She's the closest thing I have to a friend and I was going to kill her. How can you ever forgive me?" His face crumpled, dissolving into fresh tears. "How could Gravity? What c-can I do to make up for what I've d-done?"

Fusion leaned forward to nuzzle the youngster, shaking the pine brush off her back to fold a wing over him. "What you did was make a decision; you didn't do anything that couldn't be undone. When I freed Gravity from her Blessing, she reacted the same way. Nearly punched me through a tree," Fusion said, her mouth next to Lilac's ear. "Talk to her, she'll understand. I think she'll welcome the chance. I know she still blames herself for what happened to me."

Lilac flinched at Fusion's words. "I don't know if I can."

The mare pulled out of the embrace, shifting her weight and rolling carefully to her hooves. "You must. Holding on to the pain will be a poison in your heart."

Gravity chose that moment to lift her head and yawn so wide that Fusion could hear her jaw crack. She opened her eyes and looked up at Fusion, breaking into a grin almost as wide as the yawn. "You can move! Does everything work as it should?"

Fusion reached out and lifted a pack of compressed rations from their stockpile, holding it in a haze of white magic so she could smell it. "I am very hungry and very thirsty -- not to mention in need of attending to other bodily necessities. You stay put; I'll refill these water bladders and do a quick scout around the area." She looked meaningfully at Lilac, then started to hobble across the rough planking, trying work the feeling back into legs she'd not used for too long.

Gravity followed Fusion's gaze, blinking in surprise at Lilac's tear-stained and terrified expression. "Did I miss something?" she said carefully.

The mare spread her wings in a shaft of sunlight that chose that moment to break over the valley wall opposite. She stared at the golden orb for a moment, then reached for it, feeling the power cascade through her. Pastel colours bloomed along her mane and tail. Turning, she smiled down at the pair.

"Nothing. Everything. I'll be back soon."

Fusion walked out into the forest while, behind her, Lilac started to talk.

> 33 - Epilogue to part 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days of Wasp and Spider
by Luna-tic Scientist

Preread by: KMCA
Edited by: ssokolow

=== Chapter 33: Epilogue to part I ===


Random Walk was shivering despite the warmth of all the bodies surrounding her. They pressed in close, staring up at her with liquid eyes and whispering encouragement to her and each other. The deep parts of her brain drew comfort from the press of the foal's bodies, the touch and smell of children she'd known and trained for most of their short lives, but on the surface all she could see were dead eyes and fly-blown corpses.

The mare shook her head, clenching her teeth in an effort to stop them chattering, and the vision faded. She wanted to do her best for the Masters, but they were making it very hard, and she was desperately afraid that she would not be strong enough to complete their tasks. With the fear came guilt and a worm of pain that started to gnaw its way up her spine, its teeth getting larger and sharper as it worked its way up her neck.

The worm was a familiar beast. She'd first felt its bite after the machine that tampered with her memories had made her choose between saving a friend and a Master, in a scenario that was obviously designed to test her loyalty and strength. Things had only become worse from that point onwards. They wouldn't let her sleep, pulling her away from the foals at odd times for another test. It was getting increasingly difficult to willingly follow the Master into that brightly lit room and submit to the silently glowing monster.

The artificial memories were frighteningly good, and the line between the simulated and the real was hazy at best. The worst thing was that her sense of time was starting to become dislocated; the memories brought with them days of background experiences, enough that it seemed she'd been here forever. Fusion told me that Packet is still alive, she did, I remember that. Random clung to the brief visit like it was the only thing keeping her afloat. Do I? Is she still alive? Didn't I kill her as well? One of the later sessions had required her to kick a mare to death; a mare who'd looked remarkably similar to Fusion. The reason was never explained, but she'd passed that test because it was what the Masters had ordered her to do. 

Random's ears twitched at the remembered screams and the feel of bones breaking beneath her hooves, and she whimpered quietly at the back of her throat. The worm grew stronger and she ducked her head beneath her wing, teeth hunting for another feather to pull out. 

There were none left.

Desperately, she nosed about, then switched to the other wing, with just as little success. Pain-of-the-body kept the worm at bay, forcing her mind away from thoughts of guilt and failure. If there was nothing left... Her lips brushed the denuded surface of her right wing, the skin rough with fresh scabs and smelling of iron, and her mouth opened of its own accord. Eyes closed, her teeth fastened on the wing joint and clamped down, sending a dull ache all the way to her mid shoulder.

"Random, please don't," a little voice said. 

It was one of many that whispered to her; at first they had been full of confusion and worry, but as the testing had progressed their tone had changed to one of horror and fear. Now there was only despair, words delivered without hope of the request being honoured. Like all the rest, Random ignored it, allowing the worm to eat the plea as it crept up her neck. The pain of teeth on flesh wasn't sharp enough, and the young mare shifted her grip the tender leading edge, worrying the thin, damaged skin.

Stiff feathers brushed her muzzle, their tips tickling the insides of her lips with a sensation that was all-too familiar. Without conscious thought, her teeth shifted to the feather and closed, crushing the hollow shaft that ran down its centre. Random's neck muscles twitched, pulling the quill free. There was a gasp, but no pain; eyes still shut, the mare opened her mouth again as more feathers ran across her lips. Her teeth closed, getting a good grip.

Something isn't right, Random thought, trying to understand what had changed. I don't have any feathers left. She opened her eyes, staring straight into the frightened face of a blue colt. His own eyes were tight shut and his left wing was unfurled, its feathers against her muzzle. One of the big primaries was missing; half of the one next to it was already inside her mouth, the barbules sodden with saliva. Little trembling vibrations crept up the shaft, making the feather twitch against her tongue.

Surprise made her mouth drop open. Random's eyes rolled down, catching sight of the single loose feather resting on the foal's back. "Shock Diamond..." she croaked, the first words she'd uttered in nearly two days, "what...?" Random paused, gently releasing his feather.

The colt, his wing's trembling intensifying, reluctantly opened one eye. "Take it, take mine," he whispered through chattering teeth.

"No," the mare said, voice almost unintelligible as her throat closed up. What have I done? she thought, her vision blurring. Random leant forwards, burying her face in the colt's back and letting the tears flow. Buried under soft fur and gentle wings, the worm's teeth first lost their sharpness, then faded away altogether.

===

In his very private office, Sector Chief Orgon leant back against his chair and rubbed the sides of his muzzle with both paws in a display of frustration that none of the People ever got to see. The only other occupant in the room didn't count. Orgon trusted it more than anyone he worked with; unlike them its loyalty was beyond question.

"As much as this one will be commended for his part in this affair, he wishes that the discovery could have been a little less... messy," he said, leaning forward to clear his terminal's display. The long list of complaining messages and demands for explanations vanished, replaced with Security's eye symbol.

The level of destruction at the Institute was horrific, something that made it easy for the media to swallow the lie that the 'Makers Path' terrorist group was responsible. They might deny it through one of their tame journalist contacts, but who'd believe them? In the last few gigaseconds they'd made a name for themselves attacking Eugenics Board facilities; anything related to the servitors seemed fair game. "Fundamentalist idiots; as if the People would ever stop using the client races."

There was the slight worry that they might actually take credit for the 'attack' -- anything to promote their call for the People to lose their reliance on the creatures -- but even that Security public relations disaster would be better than the news getting out that a servitor had done it all. At least this one knows how it happened, he thought glumly, mind conjuring up the likely results of that little tit-bit escaping. Now he just has to convince the World Court that it was all a freak confluence of a weapons program with a deranged servitor. At least there were remarkably few witnesses. That was something he could thank the rogue for.

The other occupant watched him steadily, waiting for the moment when its services would required.

The real concern was the near complete lack of data on the actual fight inside the Institute. The telemetry links to the outside world had proven to be less hardened against thaumic interference than they needed to be, and what little did make it out was only tantalising fragments, more noise than signal. Analytics was still working on that, but nothing coming out of the processing farm seemed to be an improvement. Any real information would have to await the recovery of the multitude of corpses; Orgon only hoped there was something under that mess of steel and concrete rubble that made all this chaos worth while.

At least those that did make it out are under Orgon's direct control, he thought. A few taps of his desk's control surface opened the camera interface, throwing several video windows on to his wallscreen. The first two were identical, bland-looking rooms, each looking more like compact apartments than the high security cells they were. There was a Person in each, but there the similarity ended.

The first, an older female with her arm in a sling, paced the floor restlessly. She'd worked non-stop since her incarceration, covering her wallscreen with scribbles in a cramped, near illegible writing. The reams of cryptic notes interspersed with arcane quantum force-particle interaction diagrams had Security's technical services division pulling their fur out with frustration; half the team was convinced it was some sort of steganographic code.

The second, a younger male, was slumped in a chair, staring at a blank wall. He'd done nothing else since his arrival. Orgon knew the look well; he'd seen it on many a prisoner. It was the look of a Person replaying events in his head, wondering where it had all gone so badly wrong.

Both prisoners had already been declared dead as part of the 'terrorist incident', so Orgon had plenty of time to decide what to do with them. The irony is that the Academician seems to be enjoying her confinement, the Sector Chief thought, although the same can't be said for the Student.

All of the other witnesses were less important and under similar levels of control. The most unfortunate were the gryphons present at the original incident, but at least they were still sequestered for training and Orgon had time to arrange their fate. The Military would object, but they were not seasoned troops and could be replaced easily enough. The servitor witnesses to the third incident the most worrisome; all were either already dead or in the care of the Eugenics Board and being carefully examined. Speaking of servitors...

Another swipe of a paw brought up a video feed from a hangar in the walls of the Pit's huge entrance shaft. Positioned in one corner, the wide angle view was beautifully clear and sharp, showing the large cage that filled the bulk of the volume. A group of servitors lay at the centre, an overlapping melange of pastel wings and fur, all staying as far from the bars as possible. What is this one going to do with you all? Orgon thought.

"This one should have them all euthanized," he muttered. "Despite the test results, it's the only way to be sure..." He stared at the wallscreen, seeing not the video feed, but the reams of messages still waiting for processing. The complaints are not without merit; the efficiency of corral twenty seven has fallen far enough without the termination of an entire generation of servitors. Not only were the parents now poor workers, with instances of fugue at astronomical levels, but it would be at least another half gigasecond before the next generation could be raised. It was within his rights to do so... but it wasn't tidy.

"What if Orgon sends them home? It will fix this one's local problems, but there's the World Court to consider..." The Auditors were already rooting through the records of the affair and questioning all the People even slightly involved, starting with those in charge; his own interview was in a only a dozen kiloseconds. Orgon does not want to be responsible for having a team physically on Lacunae territory. At least they are doing everything by remote so far. They were questioning every decision made, questions asked with the benefit of hindsight, and had already demanded access to the full planning sessions. They knew at least one free servitor was involved; if they thought Lacunae wasn't treating the incident with the severity it deserved...

Any breach of regulations regarding servitors would be taken very seriously; woe betide the individual who committed such a violation. That unfortunate, along with any who could -- or should -- have known about it, would face Court justice. Magic and science would be used to strip mine the prisoner's mind for any incriminating memories, with failure to convince the Court's intelligence analysts resulting in a death sentence. Even acquittal left scars; the process was very stressful and a lifetime of psychological assistance was often necessary.

This is really a political problem, he thought, but this one knows who they'll point claws at. He turned to the large grey shape standing silently in the corner of his office and cocked his head questioningly. "Well, what does Merlon think?"

The other occupant of the room stirred, taking a silent step forwards to look over Orgon's shoulder. "If I may suggest a third option, Master."

Orgon nodded, studying his combination assistant and bodyguard. The servitor, a dappled grey mare, had served Orgon ever since he’d been promoted to Sector Chief. It came with the office and had assisted the three People who occupied this post before Orgon. It had sat in on countless meetings, an ignored observer to a huge number of Security activities, missions and decisions. As far as he knew, Orgon was the first Person to actually use its vast knowledge of how the Security apparatus operated to actually assist in his decision making process -- a good part of his reputation for infallibility came down to the skill of this pony.

"They all have the potential to become productive servitors; you should use that. Isolate them and continue their training, while showing their parents that they are being cared for. If you claim it is special treatment, because of the initiative they showed, then they will be put at ease."

"And the near-adult, this… Random Walk? It came close to killing one of the troopers." Orgon manipulated the controls, zooming in on the centre of the herd. A sorry-looking servitor with wings bare of feathers was half hidden amid the foals. They had huddled around the creature, pressing as close as they could.

Merlon looked at the scene, no emotion on her face. "True, but the circumstances make those actions permissible. She has also passed the full testing protocols at an incredibly young age." Here the pony's ears flicked slightly, the only sign that she was remembering her own induction into the service. "She has the makings of an excellent Security pony and it would be foolish to waste her."

"This is true." Orgon walked forward to study the images more closely. The risk is high, he thought, tapping his teeth with one claw, and this one is in the business of minimising risk. Turning away, he nodded, decision made. After a kilosecond to draft the necessary orders, Orgon returned to answering the long list of complaints.

===

The howl of engines woke Random from an exhausted sleep, and she lifted her head from under Shock's wing to stare dully through the mesh walls of their cage at the transport aircraft just settling on the edge of the hangar space. It was one of the type she'd seen flying past the open side of the chamber on many occasions, before the testing reached the point where she simply had no energy left for anything else. 

A blocky machine, perhaps five lengths long and almost that wide, it had stubby wings tipped with compact plasma drives and a large rear hatch that was in the process of unfolding into a ramp. Ponies, all wearing the lidless eye symbol of Security, were trotting down the metal slope, their rubber-shod hooves silent on the mesh surface. A pair of Masters emerged from the front of the vehicle, one striding purposefully towards the suddenly alert group of gryphon guards, the other heading straight for the door to the improvised cage.

At a peremptory gesture from the second Master, one of the gryphons sprang forward to stand by the door, snapping her beak once in salute. Another gesture, this one abrupt and angry, and the guard did something to the lock and the door popped open. The Master, now the focus of every pony in the cage, walked in, his stride slower and more hesitant. The foals started to edge away, and he dropped to his haunches and started to talk to the nearest pony in a voice too soft for Random to hear.

The foal, his green coat matted and dirty, cringed at the words before suddenly pressing his muzzle against the sides of the Master's legs. He didn't seem angry at this sudden breach of protocol, just dropped to one knee to steady himself and reached out with a paw to run his claws through the colt's mane. A ripple of excited whispers spread through the herd, other foals starting to creep forwards. The Master waved at the ponies that had flown in with him and they walked into the cage, horns glowing as they scanned the youngsters.

"See, I told you that it would be okay!" Shock Diamond said, butting his head against Random's withers.

"Is it? Shock, I can't tell if this is real. I can't tell if anything is real." Random shivered all over, suddenly certain that this was all some strange addition to the tests she was forcing herself through. She stole a glance at her denuded wings, the once sleek limbs now looking ugly and deformed. They've never looked like that before, she thought, hope suddenly returning. Every memory has started with a complete set of feathers... is this really happening?

"It is... it must be. Look at Tangent Vector!" Shock abruptly stood up and pointed a hoof at the edge of the herd. In a sudden silence every eye was staring at the Master, who was fumbling at the green colt's collar. The click of a lock releasing was clearly audible, and a sigh ran through the foals as the Master gently lifted the collar from Tangent's throat and pulled the suppressor ring from his horn. That must have been a signal for the rest of the ponies; the glow of unfamiliar magic condensed over each collar in turn, unlocking and removing them all.

Apart from mine, Random thought, slumping at the Master's approach. She lay on her belly, now surrounded by empty space as the foals filed out of the cage under the direction of the Security ponies. The last she saw of Shock Diamond was the colt's uncertain backwards glance as he was shepherded up the ramp and into the back of the transport. The Master stopped a few paces away, muzzle twisted into a frown that exposed a line of sharp, white teeth as he studied her. Random started to tremble, her teeth chattering, as something twitched in her spine and started to grow teeth.

He blinked, seeming to see her for the first time, his expression softening. "The pony Random Walk DP2114 has done very well," he said, crouching next to her side and fumbling in his equipment vest for a small jewelled instrument. "That it is still functional after this level of testing is quite astounding."

Random gaped back at him, her eyes starting to swim. "Is it over, Master? Did I pass?" In her back the worm hesitated, needle fangs poised.

"The pony did," he said firmly, "this one thinks it may be something of a record, considering the pony's age." He made a quiet clicking noise with his teeth, lifting her wing with one paw and carefully extending it to examine the trailing edge.

Joy roared through Random, enough happiness to erase the aches of her body and make the hard concrete under her chest seem soft and forgiving. The worm vanished, then the joy was tempered by the attention the Master was paying to her wing. "I'm sorry, Master," she said in a small voice, "the tests were so hard... I needed something to keep me distracted, otherwise..." She fell silent as the Master laid a paw on her neck.

"The pony will not worry; there is no permanent damage and its feathers will grow back. Is the pony able to stand? This one can start to treat it in the back of the transport." 

The paw moved to the collar about her throat, unsnapping the lock and pulling it free. The ring at the base of her horn went next, the sudden removal of the subtle feeling of suffocation lifting her mood still further. "Y-yes, Master," Random said, trying to get to her knees. She couldn't rise, but a strong paw under her chest coupled with a gentle haze of magic lifted her to an unsteady standing position. There, flanked by a pair of Security ponies, she made her uncertain way out of the cage and into the back of the transport.

Settling down into a padded stall, Random resolutely kept her head turned away from the now empty hangar, keeping her attention on the foals, her foals, as they chattered excitedly to the adults trying to keep them in their own stalls. Slowly she started to smile, a content, drowsy feeling washing over her as the Master and another pony started to work on her wings.

The ramp lifted with a whine, then the transport's drive thundered and lifted her away on spears of electric blue plasma. 

===

It had taken an age -- nearly ten revolutions of the world -- but the ripples of Chaos' initial intervention had finally started to have the effect it desired. The events unfolding in the underground facility would propagate far beyond that small chamber; already it was following dozens of the bipeds it thought key to fulfilling its longer term plans.

That success had left it with one worrying potential problem. The ease with which the first pony had freed its genetic relative and the sudden massive increase in their ability to control the automata had given it pause. Had it just unleashed a greater threat than the Guardians? It was not afraid of two, but if they should free more of their kind...

Models spun out within Chaos, all its experience in manipulating the bipeds funnelled into its rapidly building theory-of-mind as it tried to predict the likely consequences of this action. The ponies had a different set of mental parameters to the bipeds, but they were fundamentally still all organic; it decided that the models would probably be valid.

...and if one thing was a constant between intelligent minds, it was a desire to be free. 

Chaos looked out over the extent of the pocket universe, feeling the distant communion it had with its semi-independent mind fragment. It could feel tiny distortions in the brane walls, the signature of the larger spaces this one was attached to. It was a tempting thought; someday it would know enough to leave this place and really be free itself.

Assuming they could overcome the long term effects of automata tampering with their mental processes, Chaos expected the reign of the bipeds to be overthrown in short order.

...leaving it with a planet full of a species it had little experience with, all of whom had the ability to directly control the automata to a frightening extent.

The problem was a difficult one, but there was something it had briefly seen during an inspection of a biped’s mind, that one with the odd crystal implant in its cranial volume. Chaos retreated to the quiet spaces at the edge of the bubble and dove back into its capacious memory, unfolding the carefully mapped organic network and simulating it within its own mind.

Here was something it could use; a project set into motion by the bipeds that would allow them to neutralize their servant creatures -- not to prevent them from breaking free, but as a weapon against another polity. The risk to itself, should it try and activate the project, was unacceptable… but to manipulate circumstances so that the bipeds would use it themselves was a different matter entirely.

Chaos turned gleeful cartwheels through the higher dimensions, chasing its own processes through the ordered quantum foam at the bottom of space-time.

No more bipeds and no more ponies; the plan was perfect.


T H E    E N D

...of part one.

The story continues immediately in Days of Wasp and Spider, Part II: Final Solution.