> Steampony
>  by Winged Anomaly
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> 1: Claws of the Past
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Steampony
Ken Atkinson

Chapter 1: Claws of the Past

“Come one!  Come all!  Witness and marvel at the internal workings of the fantastical Harvester Engine, courtesy of Sir Black Quill, master inventor!  The Harvester Project – Unlimited Energy for an Unlimited Future!”
The tattered banner snapped in the wind that whipped down the narrow street like a living banshee, its trailing edge torn and mangled from months being bludgeoned against the rough brick wall it was affixed to with two loops of steel wire.  I popped my collar and pulled my coat more tightly about me in an attempt to ward off the patient cold; winter was bearing down on us, I could feel it.  Fortunately a fresh pub was just around the corner – one from which I hadn't yet been barred for overindulging in the owner's good graces.  If all went well, my belly would be warm enough to ward off the encroaching chill.  A little brass bell tinkled as I brushed through the door, taking a seat at the bar and propping my hooves up on the counter.  It seemed like a cozy place; not too big, a pool table  and a few booths in the back, a fan lazily circling overhead, and a muted television flickering behind the bar.  A tall, silver-maned Unicorn stallion meandered over a moment later, using his magic to clean a mug.
“Haven't seen you here before.  So, fillie... what's your name?”
I cracked a slight smile.
“I'm Pandora, and I'll take whatever you've got on tap.”
The Unicorn nodded and filled a glass, sliding it across the counter into my waiting hooves.
“Haven't heard your name either, and that's something.  Most everyone gets a mention in here once or twice.”
I shrugged, and emptied half the mug in one gulp.
“Most people just know me as Rainbow Dash's non-daughter.”
“Rainbow Dash?  That so?” he commented as I finished off and slid the mug back for another go.
“Yup.”
“Really.  I was a big fan of hers back in the day... you know, during the rebellions against the Unicorn regime.  She was a hell of a leader, I tell ya.  She had the charisma to rally the people around her, and the spine to lead them into battle when the chips were down.  A damn hero, your mother is.”
I laughed a short, clipped laugh, and stared at the beer as it filled the mug.
“She might've been a hero, she might've been a revolutionary, and she might've been like a hurricane in bed, just like all the stories.  What she wasn't was a mother.”
I took a hearty swig, and continued after slamming the mug back down.
“You hear all these stories about her, but she isn't some myth or legend.  She's just another pony like the rest of us, with all her ups, downs, glaring flaws, and anger management issues.”
He laughed.
“Well, she never did really seem like the family type.”
“She's not,” I replied after finishing off the second beer, “I exist because she and Spitfire, who are both so lesbian they don't even think about stallions, decided to get pregnant to help bolster the decimated Pegasus population.”
He winced.
“That's rough.  I knew she had a thing with Spitfire, but... never mind, I'm not touching that subject.  What was the death tole for Pegasi after the war again?”
“Fifty percent,” I said as I motioned for a third beer, “And that's fifty percent of all Pegasi in Equestria.  Not one division, not one battalion, that's fifty percent of ALL of us, dead.”
I paused, about to take a swig, and frowned.
“Wait a second, you're a Unicorn.  Why are you so fond of Rainbow when everything important she did in her life was to overthrow a Unicorn regime?”
He shrugged, and glanced up as another patron wandered in.
“Oppression is oppression is oppression, doesn't matter if you're the same race as the guys dealing it out.”
“Can you turn up the tellie?” I called after him as he moved to serve the new guest, and he nodded, cranking the knob jutting out of the dark wooden casing until the set was producing sound at a level approaching audible.
“...to unprecedentedly positive reception.  Professor Black Quill himself stated after the exhibit was closed that he was shocked at the turnout.”
Ahh, I knew what they were talking about.  Black Quill, the inventor of the Harvester Engine, had recently broken down one of the mysterious contraptions in front of an audience to shed some light as to how they worked.  I'd seen bits of the presentation, but honestly, it was all beyond me... something about using mechanical energy to funnel something into something, drawing magic energy across something from somewhere.  Long story short, the Harvester Engine harvested and stored magical energy, twice as fast as the strongest Unicorn and without pause for food or rest.  Within a decade of the device's introduction, it had become part of everyday life.  Harvester made magic, magic made heat, heat turned water to steam, steam generated electricity.  In ten years, ten, we had vast power grids, automated factories, networks of transport and communication, giant machines to march off to war in the west, and all on a completely unprecedented scale.  I glanced back up to the set.
“...our next story is one of tragedy, as yet another violent and lethal terrorist attack strikes downtown Manehattan.”
And there... there was the other side to the coin.  Harvester Engines being stuck at the heart of everything from cities to toasters was of great benefit, yes, but Unicorns, a race whose exclusive and prized ability was control of magic, found themselves offered the shit end of the stick.  Everything a Unicorn could do, a machine powered by a Harvester Engine could do faster, more efficiently, and without need for food, rest, or pay.  In five years, the employment rate for Unicorns dropped by fifty percent... five years more, and it had fallen even further, leaving an astounding seventy five percent of Unicorns unemployed.  Many took it lying down, acknowledging a changing world and trying to do their best with the new rules... and some didn't.  A small percentage of Unicorns were more furious than the rest, and organized a... well, I don't know what to call it.  It's not a rebellion because there's nothing they're rebelling against, it's not an underground because everyone knows about it... it's closest to an anarchist society, I suppose, given their philosophy seems to be 'blow things up until people do what we want.'  Terrorist organization!  That's the word I was looking for.  Claws of the past, sinking into the present and dragging it down.
Boom.
Bottles rained from the shelves behind the bar, crashing to the floor in a cacophony of shattering glass as something detached from the ceiling and cracked over my skull, knocking me to the floor to enjoy the stars swimming in my vision and the ringing in my ears.
“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!?” roared the bartender as I shook my vision straight.
“Unicorn terrorists,” I growled around the rapidly growing headache as I straightened my hat, “Speak of the fucking devil.”
The other patron seemed frozen for a moment, but ran out in a panic a few seconds later as the bartender sighed.
“You okay down there?”
I pushed the heavy object off my back and got to my feet, laughing bitterly as I realized it was the fan I'd noticed earlier.
“I'm fine,” I grunted, “Just going to take a look in the mirror, see if I got bumped harder than I thought.  Have a shotgun under that counter?”
He nodded.
“Then lock and load.  When they get in a blowing-up mood, they tend to take out anything they encounter for the next five minutes too.”
“I know.  I watch the news.”
He pumped the long shotgun with a harsh rasp as I stepped into the bathroom and took a look at myself.  I'd always hated myself for my appearance.  My coat was a flat light gray, lacking any of the colour that had made Rainbow so noticeable, and my eyes were a fairly common blue.  The only trait I'd actually inherited from Rainbow Dash was the vibrant, multicoloured mane, but it contrasted so harshly with my coat that I generally kept it cut short so I could hide it under my beloved wool flatcap.  I noticed a few tufts poking out from under the brim as I pulled my hat off; getting time for another haircut.  After a few seconds of examination, I came to the conclusion I was fine, and started for the exit after putting my hat back on... but just as I was almost out the door, I caught sight of it in the mirror.  That thing I hated talking about.  My cutie mark.  Eight arrows, radiating out in a circular pattern from a single point... the symbol for chaos.  My special talent was chaos.  How do you think I felt after accidentally collapsing half the shelves back at the Library in Ponyville, only to discover it was THAT I was good at?  Breaking things?  Making a mess?  Spitfire told me there were positive uses for chaos, but even up till now, I'd had a hard time believing her.  How could I put a talent for chaos to use without joining those Unicorn nutjobs?
“How're you holding up?” I asked as I stepped back onto the pub's main floor, watching as the bartender shoved the fallen ceiling fan out of the way and righted stools, the shotgun abandoned on the bar.  He just nodded, and I moved over to help him get the place in order, when an older stallion stumbled in through the door, looking thoroughly shaken.  I didn't offer him a second glance... until I realized I knew his face.
“Professor Black Quill?” I asked hesitantly, and he nodded.
“That blast,” he gasped out between breaths, “Came from two doors down.  My lab.”
I frowned.
“Why the hell is your lab situated in the undercity?  Surely you're wealthy enough from the Harvester Engine to move into an outer-city complex?”
“Convenience,” he said as he took a seat, still collecting himself, “Some of my inventions can be... difficult to shift.  Clearly, given my popularity with certain factions, this was an error in judgment.”
“Black Quill!?” the bartender finally exclaimed, “In my pub!?  Is there anything I can get for you, Sir?”
“Straight shot of vodka, a pint of beer, and a new set of glasses,” he muttered, tossing the thin-framed oval lenses aside, the cracked glass making them next to useless.
“Any idea why they hit your lab, Professor?” I asked as the bartender located a still-intact bottle of Vodka and poured some beer.  Quill just shrugged.
“Not a fucking clue.”
I had to try hard to stifle a laugh at the way he cursed; it felt almost forced.  The good scientist must not have mingled with the common folk often.  He kicked back the shot like a pro, though.
“Actually, that's not correct,” he continued a moment later, “I'm working on a new variant of the Harvister Engine.  It's a project I've been putting off for a while.  Didn't feel it was practical... but the Military Council pressed me.  Apparently, the war in the west is getting nastier by the minute, and bigger is better in their eyes.”
“What... exactly do you mean, 'bigger is better'?  What are you working on?”
He sighed.
“The Military Council commissioned me to finish the Titan Heart.  It's a concept I was tinkering with a while ago; a Harvester Engine of unprecedented size and output, so big it would only be useful for permanent installations, or moving vehicles so massive I can't even comprehend the labour behind their construction.  Back when I was first working on it, I did some calculations... it will weigh one hundred twenty tons when completed.  How is something like that practical when one could simply employ multiple, smaller Harvester Engines for similar power output and similar weight?”
I shrugged.
“It sounds like a showstopper to me.  Not intended to be practical, just big for the sake of being big.  It'll probably be built into a weapon so massive, firing it would be next to impossible... something to scare the Buffalo into surrender.”
He seemed confused.
“But why not employ a fake?  Build a hollow cannon and wheel it to the border; let its shadow scare them into submission, rather then putting the time and resources into building a practical prototype?”
“Because if the Buffalo call their bluff, they can't wipe an entire city off the map as a demonstration.”
A look of grim understanding crossed his features.
“Ah.  Well, either way, the point is the bombers probably wanted to stop me from completing the Titan Heart.”
I nodded to the bartender.
“Barkeep, could I get another beer?”
He nodded, and started pouring.
“If you're planning on being a regular,” he commented as he slid the mug across the counter, “You can call me by my name.  I'm Mercury.”
I took a swig.
“Well, you already know my name.  It's a pleasure, Mercury.”
Quill glanced around half-nervously.
“I don't.”
I raised an eyebrow, and emptied my glass.
“Whelp, I'm Pandora, agent of chaos and daughter of Rainbow Dash.”
He raised an eyebrow back at me.
“Rainbow Dash's?  Really?  I wasn't aware she'd had any children.”
“Yeah, that's a common misconception.  Often seemed like she wasn't aware she'd had a child, either.”
Not moments after I'd finished speaking, the door of the pub swung open once again, this time admitting a white-coated Pegasus with fiery orange-gold eyes.  She was in police gear, and spoke with a strong Whelsh accent.
“Sorry to intrude, mares and gentlecolts.  I'm police lieutenant Whitefire... I'm afraid I'll have to take a statement from each of you regarding the incident.  Don't worry, though.  It shouldn't take long.”

***

“Alright... name?”
“Pandora,” I replied, “I seem to be introducing myself a lot today.”
“New in town?” she asked as she wrote something on her clipboard.  I shook my head.
“Nah, just new to this pub.”
She laughed quietly.
“Yeah, I know how that goes.  Alright, all I need you to do is tell me what happened as best as you can remember.  Include as many details as you can; surprising things can turn a case from a cold turkey to a sealed archive.”
I shrugged.
“Really, I don't have much.  I doubt I can add anything to the Professor's testimony.”
“We'll see, just do your best.”
I nodded.
“Alright.  I got here about... an hour and a half ago now, looking to get completely flattened.  Place was deserted when I came in.  I had a short conversation with Mercury, the bartender, then another customer pulled him away, so I watched the television for a bit.  A few minutes later, boom.  All the bottles on the shelf crash to the floor, and that fan you can see lying over in the corner disconnects from the ceiling and hits me in the head.  After I picked myself up and went to the bathroom to make sure my brain wasn't leaking out, I came back out here and a couple minutes after that, the Professor walks in and says it was his lab next door that was attacked.”
She paused, tapping her lip with her pencil.
“What're you thinking?” I asked.
“Quill's lab is intact,” she said, “He felt the explosion with such force that it had to be in the same building, but he didn't actually witness any damage, past a few things falling off shelves.  That, coupled with the shock but limited damage I'm seeing here... makes me think that the Unicorns are planting bombs in the old sewers underground...”
“Trying to bring down Quill's entire building,” I finished, “Taking out him and all his projects at the same time.”
I almost mentioned the Titan Heart, but I wasn't sure he'd told her, and I really wasn't sure whether or not the project was supposed to be secret.  Best to play it safe; I wasn't a rat.  She pointed at me with her pencil, smiling.
“Great minds think alike.  I'll warn the professor, then.  Hey, if you're not doing anything later... would you be up for some good old-fashioned vigilantism?  The Manehattan police are stretched more thin than a condom on an Earth Pony's cock, so we'll take help wherever we can get it.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Why do you ask me, in particular?”
She shrugged.
“You're smart, you can take a hit, and you've got a pretty face.  Up for some ass-kicking?”
A slow smile spread across my face.
“Hell yes.”
We moved over to where the Professer was on his eighth beer.
“Professor,” Whitefire started, “I've come to the conclusion that the Unicorn bombers are planting their charges in the old sewers beneath the streets in an attempt to bring down your entire building.  I recommend you get any high-value hardware out of there as soon as you can manage, in case the foundation doesn't hold.”
Quill started, suddenly alert.
“Celestia's bones, why didn't I think of that!?”
And he was out the door in a flash.  Mercury just laughed quietly behind the counter, where he was sweeping up broken glass.
“Poor fellow's having a hell of a day.”
I followed Whitefire out of the bar and up the street, stopping out front of the building that must have been Quill's lab.  It wasn't particularly flashy – a flat, red brick face, standing five stories high and dotted with occasional windows... mostly broken now, though.  There wasn't so much as an address next to the thick wooden door, which stood just open enough for me to see the dozen or so wrought-iron locking mechanisms lining the frame.  At least he wasn't short on straightforward security – provided he remembered to close the door.  I glanced over to where Whitefire had just pried a manhole cover off the road, and was motioning me down.  I was about to start down the ladder when I caught a whiff of the smell.  My expression must've told the story as Whitefire grimaced.
“Yeah, I know.  They say you'll get used to it, but I don't put much credit in that.  Come on, time's a-wasting.”
She slid down the ladder, and I had to admire her resistance – the smell was holding me back like a physical barrier.
“Come on,” echoed up, “Believe me, it's not so bad once you get down here.”
I took her word for it and followed her down, gagging when I reached the bottom.
“Liar,” I gasped out as I slowly acclimatized myself, she just laughed.
“Better to act first and beg forgiveness later.”
She rooted around in a pocket for a moment, producing a small flashlight a few seconds later, which she activated with a muted click and shone down the tunnel.  The tunnel stretched some distance before its subtle curve took it out of sight, the heavy masonry ribs built into the walls to support the buildings above turning the already small space into a claustrophobic nightmare.  It was a matter of seconds before the beam landed on the blast site, on the left wall of the tunnel.
“Luna's tits,” I breathed.  The entire area was burned and scorched, the steel catwalk warped away from the wall, which had been blown clear through, opening a rubble-lined tunnel into the next sewer over.  But despite the obvious power of the blast, it hadn't been quite enough, opening too small a gap to even threaten the building above.  Whitefire nodded in satisfaction.
“Right, we should go let the Professor know he needn't worry for now, then we can start looking for...”
“Could've sworn the charge was big enough.  Who did the math on this again?”
“Shut up!  Fucking amateur.”
I put a hoof over Whitefire's mouth, and glanced to her questioningly.  She nodded, yes... she'd heard the harsh whisper as it was amplified and echoed by the enclosing walls.  I motioned to her nigtstick, then pointed to the ground and made waving motions forward.  Hopefully, she got what I was planning.  I take the stick and move in, taking the Unicorns out, while she stays put and moves the flashlight around, making like everything's normal.
“Looking for evidence,” she finished as she handed me the weapon, “Sorry, kinda spaced for a minute there.”
Trying to keep my movements quiet, I inched along the left catwalk with the nightstick firm in my grip.  The damaged area was only a couple of meters ahead now.
“I'm actually a little surprised,” Whitefire continued, seemingly absentmindedly as she swung the flashlight back and forth across the tunnel's width, “The Unicorn underground usually thinks these things through.  You'd think they'd have known to bring a bomb with enough blast potential.”
And then I was on top of them.  I charged through the blast zone, the stick raised high.  Unfortunately, the darkness proved more intense than I'd thought, and I plowed straight into one of the bombers, knocking us both to the ground.  Fortunately, I'd kept my hold on the nightstick, and swung it with all my might into the pitch emptiness ahead of me.  It connected solidly with one of the bad guys, a wet 'thwack' echoing down the tunnel, followed shortly by the thump of a collapsing body.  By then, his accomplice had found his flashlight.  The sudden blast of yellow-white light took me by surprise, but that didn't stop me – I just closed my eyes and swung wildly until the stick made contact with something.  The bright glow faded from the back of my eyelids as the flashlight struck the battered masonry floor, its owner stumbling back, reeling from the blow I'd dealt.  It was a simple matter of knocking the second pony out... after opening my eyes, of course.
“Whitefire,” I shouted back down the tunnel, “We're clear.”
“How many of them were there?” she asked as she carefully stepped over the shattered stone.
“Two,” I said, giving one of the unconscious stallions a kick, “Unless one of them cleared out while I was fighting.  I wasn't particularly subtle.”
“Why do you think they're still here?”
I shrugged.
“I'm guessing they sent one of their guys to tell their boss the bombing failed.  They're probably waiting for him to return, and trying to figure out why the charge wasn't strong enough at the same time.”
Whitefire shook her head.
“Silly.  Stupid.  If this is Unicorn resistance, it's a splinter cell, sub group, or mimicer.  The guys we've been dealing with up till now are cold, calculating, and very smart.  I'm not seeing any of that here.  A bunch of stallions plant a bomb that's too small, stay on site during the blast, and wait around for nearly two hours afterward, on the scene of the crime.”
“Think not all is as it seems?”
She snorted.
“Nah.  I just think they're fucking stupid.”
I straightened my flatcap, and turned towards the exit.
“Come on, let's get out of here before the stench knocks one of us out.”

***

Six hours later, Mercury had cleaned up the bar, and Whitefire and I were drunk off our asses.  She'd sent some poor patrolmen down to pick up the suspects and scrounge for evidence; we'd done our bit, they did theirs.  Whitefire was good to be around; she was intelligent and led an interesting life, but was also imbued with that cynical, practical edge I found I could respect so easily.
“You know what,” she slurred, pulling out a napkin and a pen, “You know what, this, right here, is my number.  You ever get bored or get an urge to crash somewhere and get completely drunk, gimme a call, aight?”
“Totally.”
I shoved the napkin in my coat pocket, and started when I saw the clock on the wall.
“Celestia, look at the time,” I muttered, “Better get home to my boyfriend before he decides I'm dead.”
Her face fell, but she maintained a forced smile.
“Boyfriend, huh?  Baah, boyfriends are boring.  Girlfriends... girlfriends are much more interesting.”
I immediately locked down.
“Ah.  So you're one of them.”
“One of what, exactly?  I'm sitting right here, you know.”
It was at that point that I realized what I'd done, but I was too drunk to think damage control.
“You know, one of... them.  Lesbians.”
“And what do you have against lesbians?”
“Nothing, personally, it's just... my parents were two mares.  One was always missing, and the other one didn't know how to raise a child.  It's nothing conscious, I just... I suppose I just have negative associations.”
She sighed exasperatedly.
“Oh, grow up.  How old are you?  Twenty?  Twenty five?  Plenty old enough to get over shit like that and accept that I'm a pony, just like you.  You go for stallions, I go for mares.  Is that really a reason to think any differently of me?”
“Look, I'm just say-”
“Fuck off.  I'm sick of people like you telling me how to live.”
That was it.  I jumped to my feet knocking the stool to the floor with a deafening clatter.
“You know what!?” I shouted, “I think I will!”
The bar's door slammed behind me a moment later.  I stalled a moment, wondering whether I should go back in and try to apologize, but she was probably still enraged, and I was definitely not in the mood to try and apologize.  A couple of minutes later I stormed off, zipping up my jacket to ward off the steadily growing winter chill.  At least my boyfriend's apartment was only a few blocks away.
> 2: The Assassin, the Vigilante, and the Nomad
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 2:  The Assassin, The Vigilante, and The Nomad

“What the fuck do you mean, 'leave'!?”
“I mean leave,” he shouted back, “As in leave!  As in you, and your stuff, someplace ELSE!”
I was speechless.
“Wh... why!?”
His face fell, and he turned away.  That's when it clicked.
“You're bucking somebody else, aren't you?”
“I...”
“AREN'T YOU!?”
It was incredible.  Thundercloud was a strong, massive Earth Pony, and here I had him backed into a corner like a scared kitten.  I threw up my hooves.
“Oh, that's great.  You find somepony a little more attractive, a little more seductive, and you decide to run me out of a home!?  You're damn shameless, you are!”
“Run you out of a home!?” he snapped, “You're a damn freeloader!  You stay in my apartment, spending all my hard-earned bits on booze, and wake me up in the early AM when you stumble in the front door!  Damn near anyone is more desirable than you!  Now get your stuff and GET OUT!!”
Not so kittenlike anymore.  He was too big for me to face down in a straight fight, so I yielded.
“Fine,” I said, straightening my hat and doing up my coat, “Fine.  I'm out.”
Thundercloud paused, calming down slightly.
“I... I can help you pack.”
I shook my head, grabbing my baseball bat and holding it up.
“If you ever knew me like you said you did, you'll know this is all I need.”
And for the second time in five hours, a door slammed behind me, my temper soaring.  But as I paced angrily in the hallway, my rage turned to panic.  I had nowhere to live, no money to eat with... no friends.  I'd only moved from Ponyville to Manehattan a year ago, and in that time I'd shifted from place to place so often I'd had no time to make any real friends.  I had, literally, nobody I could call for help, a loan, or even a place to crash for a night.  I realized as I stumbled out into the midnight chill, the snow slowly drifting down around me, I was completely alone.  There was nothing left to do but sit in the snow, tighten up my jacket, and hope I could survive the night.
“Hey.”
I started, glancing up.  And there, lo and behold, stood Whitefire.
“Hey,” I replied nervously.  She nodded towards the door.
“Earlier, did you just want to get away from me, or...”
“My boyfriend kicked me out,” I clarified, “And honestly, I'm really sorry about earlier.  I was drunk, and...”
She cracked a half smile, and offered me a hoof.
“It's okay.  So was I.  Anyway, you haven't exactly had the best life experience with lesbians, so the situation back at the bar was pretty much a perfect storm.  All's forgiven.”
I accepted her help up, and smiled as she brushed snow off my cap.
“Come on,” she said, starting down the path, “I've got a couch you can crash on.”
I stopped cold in shock.
“Wait, really?”
“Yeah,” she laughed, “Or would you rather freeze your ass off out here?”
I started grinning as I followed her down the road.
“Damn, am I ever glad I met you today.”
“Believe it or not, the feeling's mutual.  Not many are a cop's friend in this part of town, so I'm pretty lonely.”
I nodded slowly.
“I know how that goes.  I moved from Ponyville to Manehattan only a year ago, and since then, I haven't managed to hold down a job, or even a relationship for more than a month.  I have no friends, period.”
I snorted.
“Somepony thought I had enough dignity to call me a nomad.  I just call myself a failure.”
She opened her mouth to say something, hesitated, and went on anyway.
“I'm... not actually a cop.  I was, a few months back but... shit went down, I walked out.  As a last 'fuck you', I kept the gear, and I'll never forget the training.  So I decided to put what resources I had to good use.  Been a stop-and-go vigilante ever since, haven't made a penny in weeks.  I'd say that's sufficient to challenge your title of 'failure'.”
I laughed outright.
“Not a cop, huh?  Well, you put on a damn good show.  If anything, I'd say my opinion of you just went up.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
We walked some distance in silence, until she asked the question I always knew she would.
“Who were your mothers?”
I just shook my head.
“You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Try me.”
I sighed.
“Alright, here goes... Rainbow Dash gave birth to me, but I was raised by both her and her partner, Spitfire.”
Whitefire's jaw hit the proverbial floor.
“No fucking way.”
I shot her a 'told you so' look.  It took her a while to get her words back.
“You... were raised by, Spitfire, my hero in just about every way, and birthed by Rainbow Dash, the legendary warrior and activist?”
I shook my head.
“Spitfire wasn't around much, as much as I wish she was... she was a much better parent.  Always off on call with the Wonderbolts, or town sheriff business.  That left me to cope with Rainbow Dash on my own most of the time, and let me tell you, she may be the stuff of legends, but a mother she is not.”
“Why was Spitfire always away?” she asked innocently.  I sighed inwardly.
“Alright, brace yourself.  Storytime.  Way back when Luna and Celestia were first assassinated and the three races turned against each other, at the start of the Harmony's End War, the Wonderbolts were repurposed: turned from a showflight group to an elite squadron of the Pegasus race's best combat flyers, the ultimate tool against the Earth Ponies and Unicorns.  They were mostly a propaganda instrument, but occasionally, they were sent on missions normally assumed to be suicide.  Rainbow Dash was integrated into their number near the start of the war, and it was quickly discovered she was the fastest, by a long shot.  So when it came time to send a small Wonderbolt team against the stiffest odds they'd ever faced, deep behind Earth Pony lines, she, Spitfire, and  another Wonderbolt, Soarin', were chosen.  I don't know the details... Dash didn't like to talk about it, but she wound up shot down.  In the end, she completed the mission, but the event had ruined her ability to fly.  She was physically capable, but might as well have been tied down with rope.  Couldn't even so much as flap without breaking down.  She lived like that for a year; from the Unicorn victory to the crushing weight of their collective boot.  It was so hard for her to fly, she couldn't even manage it when her lover, Twilight Sparkle, was captured and scheduled for execution.  It cost Twilight her life.
“Rainbow Dash joined the resistance at that point; the common people, no matter the race, united against the oppressive Unicorn regime.  Turns out Spitfire was one of the founding elements of the Ponyville resistance, and over the course of the next six months, she taught Dash to fly again.  This earned Rainbow's love, and the two started and ended the rebellion together over the course of... three, four years.  Once the Collective Republic was put in place, a government run equally by all three races, the Wonderbolts hung up their guns and became a showflight group again.  Spitfire assumed her rightful place as their leader, and offered Rainbow Dash the position she'd always wanted... but Rainbow declined.  As much as she loved flying, she didn't want the spot.  Brought back too many memories of the war, I suppose.  Anyway, about a year after that, Rainbow and Spitfire decided that they had to do their part.  The Pegasus population was literally cut in half during the war, so both Rainbow and Spitfire had a child with another lucky Stallion – whose name escapes me, I'm afraid.  Rainbow's daughter, me, was kept by Rainbow and Spitfire, and Spitfire's daughter went to live with the father.  The rest of that is history.
“After I was born, my family moved out to a remote little town in the Mild West... the name escapes me at the moment, but it was a rough, lawless place, not the escape Dash and Spitfire had been looking for.  So Spitfire decided to straighten the place out and appointed herself town sheriff.  Got herself a deputy and a bunch of willing volunteers... got the place cleaned up eventually, but... well, cleaning up the town plus flying with the Wonderbolts equals not much spare time for the kid.  So Rainbow raised me.”
Whitefire nodded slowly.
“That was... probably the most roundabout answer I've ever heard.  Very informative, though.  I never really did know much of anything about Harmony's End; my dad always said that it's best to let old horrors die.”
I shrugged.
“Rainbow's view was that if we let the travesties of the past slip from our memory, they're liable to become the travesties of the present.”
White sighed.
“And with the War in the West, the Unicorn underground...”
She didn't need to finish the sentence.
“On the subject of the war,” she picked up a moment later, “What do you think of Quill's Titan Heart project?”
So the professor had told her; I needn't have worried.
“I don't know.  On one hand, these new war machines could finally put an end to the fighting with the Buffalo, but on the other hand, it... ups the ante, I suppose.  You start marching in walking buildings, your enemy marches in walking buildings twice the size.”
“Well, the Buffalo have never been really... technically minded.  They only just worked out guns and rifles; the only reason the war wasn't over before it started is that they know the lay of the land.”
I shook my head.
“I wasn't talking about the Buffalo.  What about the Griffons?  Politics with them have been rough for years, and they're at least as advanced as we are.”
“I make a point of avoiding politics,” she laughed, “Too much dogma and petty infighting.”
“Eh, I find it handy to know when another war's about to fall out of the sky.”
I started when Whitefire suddenly halted, turning to me with an uneasy expression.
“Did you hear that?” she asked in a whisper.
“Hear what?”
“Shh, listen.”
I focused, and found that I could hear voices, their echoes faint over the winter breeze.  The first voice was a mare's.
“I believe I already stated that I am uninterested.”
The next voice was a stallion's; thick with a lower Manehattan accent.
“But I am, you pretty little thing.  Why don't you put out for us and make it easy on yourself?”
That didn't sound good.  Whitefire motioned me to follow her, and quietly, we moved around the corner.  There, in the middle of the street, stood a pretty, young, light blue Pegasus mare with a dark blue mane and strikingly red eyes.  She was surrounded by at least six stallions of various races, all armed with knives and blunt instruments.  The biggest of them was circling her, grinning in a way that made me sick.
“I'm going to give you one chance, and one chance only,” she said in a cold monotone that sent shivers right down my spine, “Leave, before somepony gets hurt.”
The leader slowly unsheathed a long combat knife, and traced the point across her throat.
“I'd say the only pony in danger of getting hurt is you, luv.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, focusing.
“Remember,” she said in a cold whisper, “I gave you a chance.”
And with speed I could only describe as unnatural, she'd driven the point of the leader's own knife up through the bottom of his jaw and out the top of his skull, his hooves still firmly locked around the hilt.  The stallion gurgled blood for a moment before toppling over, the rest of his troupe glancing around nervously as the Pegasus unsheathed two knives of her own, shifting into a combat stance.  Eventually, one of the other ponies charged her from behind; hearing his clattering footsteps, she whirled at the last minute and slashed his throat open with both knives.  He flopped to the ground like a sack of bricks, his momentum sending him skidding a meter on his face.  Two more attacked her at the same time, one going straight forward, knife raised, the other circling around to strike at her flank.  The Pegasus simply tripped the first one and drove her knife into the base of his skull as he fell, slinging the corpse like a club to bludgeon the second assailant to the ground, where she broke his neck with a well-placed kick.  But she didn't have eyes in the back of her head.  She was tackled from behind by one of the two remaining ponies, and in the moment her guard was down, the other one managed to get a pretty good cut in.  She didn't even flinch as she threw a blow, but missed, and in the half second before she was ready to fight again, one of the remainders managed to grapple her from behind, pinning her front legs to her sides.
“Fucking bitch!” the free stallion growled, kicking her in the gut and readying his knife.  That's when I sprung into action.  I took a firm grip on my baseball bat and ran for it, shouting to gain his attention... and with a brutal crunch of shattering jawbone, I smashed him upside the head as hard as I could.  He hit the ground with a thud, screaming in agony as the mysterious fighter shook free of the last stallion's grip and buried a knife in the top of his skull.  She hesitated, then turned to the one on the ground and mercifully broke his neck.  For a moment or two, she just stood among the bodies, calming her breathing.  Then she turned to us.
“Thank you for your aid,” she said in that quiet, cold voice, “The situation was... out of my control.”
“You were doing pretty damn well,” I said, “I've never seen somebody use moves like that outside of movies and books.  What are you, some kind of assassin?”
She met my gaze with her bright crimson eyes.
“Yes.”
Then she glanced away.
“In training.”
“What's your name?” I asked quietly, and she looked back to me.
“My name is Sky Blue.”
Whitefire stepped between us.
“Sorry to interrupt, but Sky, that cut is bleeding badly.  I can see to it; my apartment's not far.”
She bowed slightly.
“Again, I thank you.  I am in your debt.”
A few minutes later, we were back at Whitefire's apartment.  “Nice place,” I commented as I wandered around.  'Thanks,' echoed from the bathroom, where Whitefire was busy stitching up the deep gash on Sky Blue's shoulder.  The fillie was tough, that was certain.  She seemed to hardly know the injury was there.  She was young, too... younger than me at least.  I was twenty four, she looked to be between eighteen and twenty.  Practically still wet behind the ears, and yet she'd cut down five ponies and finished off another one without so much as blinking.  What kind of 'training' was she involved in?  More importantly, who was training her?  She reminded me of some superpony Rainbow had told me she used to work with... but the name was escaping me.  Damn, I probably should've listened to her more, now that I thought about it.  She may have not been the best parent, but she certainly had experience from which to give advice.  I wandered into the washroom just as Whitefire finished bandaging the wound.  Sky Blue tested the bandages, then nodded in approval.
“I thank you again for your kindness and hospitality.  Perhaps we will meet again some day, and I can repay you.”
“Wait,” Whitefire called after her as she started to grab her things, “Where are you going?”
Sky paused.
“I... don't know.”
She set her pack down.
“I have no home.  No money.”
For the first time, I saw emotion cross her face in the form of a wry smile.
“I'm not a very good assassin.  Were I given a chance, I could probably make my way... but nopony wants to hire an assassin who's never taken an official contract.”
She sighed.
“I was taught by the best.  I have the skills, I have the strength... but nopony wants to take a risk with me.”
She unrolled her pack on the couch, and sorted through her things.  Two gore-stained knives, a small bag filled with food, a map, and a long, thin object wrapped in cloth.
“This is everything I have in this world.”
Then she just... stood there, staring at the thin package with that strange intensity that always seemed to be about her.  It scared me, a little... but Whitefire walked right up and put a hoof on her shoulder.
“Then you'll fit right in.  If you need a place to stay, you're free to remain here as long as you want.”
Then she looked to me.
“You too, Pandora.  Way I see it, three failures working together have triple the chances of one failure working alone.”
I let a smile spread across my face, and Sky just looked stunned.  I put a hoof on Whitefire's shoulder, and said, “You are officially the most awesome cop I have ever met.”
“Ex cop,” she corrected, “that or disgraced cop.  Your choice.”
Sky glanced away.
“I... I cannot accept.  I already owe you a great deal...”
“Spare me,” Whitefire interrupted, “You owe me nothing.  Nopony here is in a good spot; all we've got is each other, so as long as you watch my back and help me out if and when the time comes, what's mine is yours.”
She paused.
“...provided I can maintain the rent.  So what do you ponies say we call it a night, and discuss potential jobs in the morning?”
I nodded.
“Sounds good to me.”
“I agree, the fight was tiring,” Sky added.
“Alright,” Whitefire said, nodding, “Let me show you all where you'll be sleeping.”

***

For the first time in ages, I actually slept soundly.  Part of me suspected it was freedom from Thundercloud's snoring, but part of me knew and understood that it was my newfound sense of freedom.  I didn't need that oaf; I'd never needed any of them.  Us three fillies, we were going to make something of ourselves, no shoulders to cry on required.  By morning's light, I was rested, energetic, and in a very good mood.
“Morning,” I cheerily greeted Whitefire as she put on some toast, “Where's Sky?”
Whitefire shrugged.
“Flying, exercising, practicing.  I made it clear I wouldn't try to regulate her... assassiney stuff, so she's probably off doing her morning regimen.”
“How do you know she has a morning regimen?” I asked as I pulled a box of cereal from under the counter.  Whitefire just laughed.
“Come on, you've seen 'Assassination', right?  The movie about that Pegasus that tracked General Whytemane to the end of the earth to kill him for a friend?”
Something clicked so suddenly I dropped the box of cereal.
“The protagonist,” I pressed Whitefire, “What was her name?  What was the protagonist's name?”
She just frowned for a moment, then realization dawned over her.
“Navy Blue.  Navy fucking Blue!  And that movie was based on...”
“A true story,” I finished for her.  We just stared at each other for a moment in complete shock.
“Do you think she's...”
“Related to the greatest assassin who ever lived?  The pony that took murder and turned it into a fine art?  The pony who created an order of honorable contract vigilantes?  The pony who had a personal hand in the fall of the Unicorn regime during Harmony's End?”
She shrugged, after taking a breath.
“Makes sense.”
“And it explains where she got the training,” I continued, still thinking.
“I mean no intrusion, but who is this 'she' of whom you speak?”
I froze, and whirled on my heel to see Sky Blue standing in the entrance to the kitchen, just... looking at me.
“Oh,” I stammered, “We were... um...”
“Are you related to Navy Blue?” Whitefire blurted out.  Sky seemed confused.
“Yes.  She is my mother.  I'm sorry, I assumed you knew... I should have told you.”
She seemed slightly let down.
“Does this... make you want to alter the terms of our agreement?”
White was speecheless for a second.
“Uh... no!  No way!  Sky, now that I know where you got your training, I have nothing but the utmost faith in you.  Now that I know Navy was your mother, I know that I can trust you to be just, honorable, sensitive, and should the need arise, lethal.”
I had to suppress a laugh.  That was almost a direct quote from the movie.  Whitefire had paused, frowning.
“Do you tell your prospective clients you're her daughter?”
Sky shook her head adamantly.
“No.  I want to make my own path, not build upon her success.”
I frowned.
“The world's pretty tough, Sky.  If I were you, I would've used the connection to get a little starting boost, then worked off my reputation alone.”
“But there's the trick,” she said pointing at me, “If I start by referring her name, I become known by that.  I become known as the one whose mother was a great assassin.  Eventually, my own skill would grow to surpass the voices of the naysayers, but that 'starting boost' would cost me in the long run by locking a ball and chain about the ankles of my success.”
She closed her eyes for a moment.
“By mentioning my connection to Navy Blue, I imply I am comparable to her.  This may get me jobs in the short run, but in the end... I will never be as good as she is, and that would haunt me till the day I died, even if it didn't haunt the decisions of others.”
“Wait,” I interrupted, “Off topic, but you're talking about her in present tense.  Is Navy is still alive?”
Sky cursed under her breath.
“A slip of the tongue.  She lives, but in hiding.  I trust you can keep this to yourselves?”
We both nodded, and Sky seemed to accept that as sufficient.
“This subject grows weary.  I say we focus on acquiring some money.”
Whitefire and I both nodded.
“Alright,” I said, “What are we all good at?”
There was a long, awkward silence.
“Come on, guys.  Alright then, I'll start.  I'm good at baseball, drinking, good, old-fashioned dirty fighting, and causing chaos.  I've also got a hell of a lucky streak when it comes down to violence; got into a knife fight stone-drunk once, walked out without a scratch.”
White nodded towards my wings.
“You're Rainbow's daughter.  What's your wingpower?”
That was probably the subject I liked talking about the least.  I broke eye contact.
“I can fly...” I muttered, “But really, I'd rather not.  And before you ask, I'm not interested in talking about it.”
Whitefire seemed a bit taken aback.
“Alright... but you know I'm here if you need anything.”
Then she cleared her throat.
“Ahkey... I'm damn good at flying, fifteen wingpower, and I'm armed with my police training.  Was the best of my class, as a matter of fact.  I know various forms of hoof-to-hoof combat, as well as various knife and gunfighting techniques.  Not sure if I've mentioned this before, but if I have two guns, it's like... instinct.  I'm faster and more accurate than I'd ever be on my own.  My special talent, if you still believe in those sorts of things.”
When she was finished, Sky gave us a very brief list.
“I can kill, quickly, quietly, invisibly.  Unfortunately, I have never developed a talent for guns, so my skills are reserved to knives and blades.”
I glanced between the two other ponies.
“So what you guys are saying is this:” I clarified, “We're all terrible at life, but we all know how to kick some serious flank.”
Whitefire shrugged.
“Seems about right.”
A slow smile spread across my face.
“Then let's go see to getting into some trouble, why don't we?”
> 3: Distaster Afield
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 3: Disaster Afield

Black Quill smiled as he opened his door.
“Ahh, it's you!  Pandora, was it?”
I nodded.
“Nice to be remembered by someone, Professor.”
“Please, come in.”
The three of us stepped inside, and waited as he went about the lengthy process of engaging all the door's locks.
“Forgive the security; paranoia pays, I suppose.  What did you three need?”
“We were wondering if there was anything you needed done,” Whitefire said, getting straight to the point.  Quill frowned.
“Well, there's some sweeping that needs to be done... but given the looks on your faces, I'd say you're looking for something a little more... exciting.  I know Pandora and Officer Whitefire are capable due to that little bit of policework the other day, but...” he nodded to Sky, “What of your compatriot?”
“Reliable and capable,” Whitefire assured Quill, “If you can trust me or Pandora, you can trust her.”
He nodded.
“In that case, there is something.”
He motioned for us to follow him, deeper into his lab.
“I sent the Military Council a prototype of the Titan Heart roughly a year ago; fully functional.  I continued working on it, making sure it was safe, under the assumption that the prototype would simply be a proof of concept.  Unfortunately, the Military Council saw fit to not only mount the device in a new war machine, but use the old blueprints to commence production of a whole new classification of mechanized destruction: Titan-class machena, monsters of iron and stone.  I have not made any major changes to the Titan Heart since then, so it's comparatively safe, but I have come across some... unnerving findings in my tests.”
A moment later, we stepped into his main lab floor, and the Titan Heart was easy enough to spot.  The thing towered a good twenty meters vertical; a vast ring of intricately intertwined metal pieces, massive flanges and plates of steel littering the floor around it.  He gestured offhandedly to it as he rummaged through mountains of paper.
“The outer casing is off, as you can see.  That's just the core.  Anyway, if I can just find it here... ahh, here we go.  Let me give you a brief explanation of how the Harvester Engine works.  Unicorn horns can naturally produce an unusually strong field of psychic energy, which attracts magic from somewhere outside space... I'm not really sure what this realm is, though.  Off topic, sorry.  Psychic fields can be produced mechanically, but the trick is, they have to be projected in a very specific way to focus the magic energy into a usable state.  The secret behind the Harvester Engine is simple: produce a very, very powerful psychic field in the correct configuration to focus magic, then scale it up.  This has continued to work fine as Harvester Engines get bigger and bigger, but in my experiments with the Titan Heart, I've encountered some items of... particular interest.”
He lifted a specific sheet of paper, and pointed to some hastily scrawled equations.
“Some of the readings I've been taking have been... off.  I've examined them very closely, and discovered something highly unnerving – there may be a maximum amount of magical energy able to be drawn through a specific point.”
He'd lost me, but Whitefire clarified.
“So... if a single Harvester Engine sucks in too much magical energy, something could happen?”
Quill nodded approvingly.
“Yes, 'something' indeed, and if my thought process is correct, that something could be dangerous on a catastrophic level.  Now, I've reviewed the schematics for the first war machine I mentioned.  If all goes well, the magic levels should stay beneath this event horizon, but the problem is this: if too much energy is required of a single Harvester Engine, that Engine increases the strength of its field, drawing in more magic to compensate.  When the Titan Heart is running at normal levels, it's perfectly safe... but it has the capacity to exceed the event horizon.”
Then it clicked for me.
“So if the people driving this new war machine try to draw more power than the Titan Heart is putting out,” I said, half to myself, “Then they could unknowingly trigger Celestia knows what.”
“Precisely.”
Quill rooted around for a moment, then produced a sealed envelope.  
“Now, here's what I need you to do.  In four days, this new war machine is being demonstrated in a field close to the Buffalo border.  I need you to deliver this letter to the highest ranking military officer on site; make sure he reads it.  I don't care if he's just extra careful or calls off the demonstration altogether; it really doesn't matter, as long as he doesn't unwittingly cross the event horizon.”
Whitefire reached to accept the letter, but paused when Sky Blue stepped forward.
“What's the compensation?” she asked, her intense gaze settling on the Professor.
“Oh, I'm sorry, I nearly forgot.  One thousand bits apiece.  I take it that's sufficient?”
A slow grin spread across Whitefire's face as she accepted the letter.
“More than enough.”
“Expecting any trouble along the route?” I asked, and the Professor shook his head.
“It should be safe, but this is a demonstration of a new weapon.  Their might be various unsavory types scoping the area out, planning a theft or sabotage or something along those lines.  I say arm yourselves, just in case.”
I nodded.
“Fine, just pay us when we get back.  Carrying less money makes us less of a target.”
Whitefire frowned.
“Shouldn't we take a little in advance?” she asked, “Sky's set for armament, but all Pandora's got is that bat and I'm saddled with a nightstick.  I'd say we should at least invest in some blades, maybe firearms if we're feeling fancy.”
I glanced to White.
“I don't know about you, but buying myself a shiny new gun would just be a waste.  I love the bat, I'm comfortable with the bat, and no matter how awesome another weapon is, I will always use the bat.  The thing's cracked so many skulls over the years that it's dented, and it's solid oak for fuck's sake.”
Whitefire sighed in semi-serious exhaspiration.
“Fine, keep the bat.  Professor, would you mind if I took three hundred bits of my cut ahead of time?”
He shook his head.
“Not a problem.  Let me fetch my wallet.”
He returned a moment later, and handed Whitefire a wad of crumpled-up cash with a bit of a wince.
“Sorry it's all out of sorts, but the majority of my money is held by the bank.  I keep a comparatively small private reservoir for personal use, and this reservoir often finds itself hastily stuffed into pockets.”
Whitefire just laughed and accepted the money.
“It's no issue, Professor.  We're not the kind to expect freshly pressed bills.”
Then, she motioned towards the exit.
“Come on.  Time's a wasting, and the fate of the world could hang upon our actions.”
I just snorted as we started for the exit.
“Don't you start the whole melodrama thing.  I get enough of that in normal life.”
“Do be careful!” the Professor shouted after us as we stepped outside, the door drifting shut behind us.  “No promises,” Whitefire laughed, half to herself.
“So, what now?” I asked as we came to a stop in the street outside Quill's lab, the thin coating of snow crunching beneath our hooves.  Whitefire pointed up the street.
“I need a gun, and I know exactly what I'm looking for.”
A few minutes up the road, we came to a stop outside the shop window of a fancy gun store.  Whitefire was staring at a particular piece; a big, chrome six-shooter with a ten inch barrel and fanciful engravings twining their way up its length.
“Been looking to get my hands on that piece of work for years,” she whispered, before stepping inside.  Not even ten minutes later, she re-emerged, the beautifully shining weapon holstered at her side.
“Turns out their files are a little rusty; they skipped the background check because I was a cop,” Whitefire said with a grin, “Now come on, let's get out of here before they figure out their info's two years old.”

***

~Four Days Later~

It had been quite a hike from the train station to the testing site, flight being a bad idea due to the high concentration of twitchy military officials, but once we crested the final hill, we were greeted with a view that more than made up for the distance.  A vast plain was stretched out before us, the grass glowing a rich green as the sun, warmer here in the West, held winter at bay.  The sky was hidden from sight by soft, gray clouds, but it didn't do much to damage the effect.  But in an area as open as this, with a clear line of sight from our position to the horizon, it was only a matter of time before we found the machine... and it was a monster.  Difficult to describe it as anything other than a building with legs.  The main body looked something like a church; long, straight, and tall, with a twin-peaked shingle roof and a vast smokestack towering from the front end.  Stained glass windows decorated its walls, bracketing six massive legs, framed with steel and plated with iron and copper.  At its feet, the collection of spectators and vehicles looked like an ant colony.
“Truly impressive,” Sky commented in a half-whisper.  White seemed less taken, as she started forward and motioned us to follow.
“Stay frosty, could be anypony watching in the wings here.”
Sky loosened her knives and I adjusted my bat in its sling across my back, then we started across the plain.  About an hour later, we'd passed into the small throng of officers, officials, and contractors, and not a single thing remotely approaching a threat had come to light.  I had to admit, I was a little disappointed.  I'd been looking forward to baptizing our little mercenary club with a good brawl, but hey, pickers can't be choosers.  It was only a matter of time before we were approached by a massive Earth Pony stallion in security gear.
“Excuse me,” he said in a deep, rumbling voice, “I don't believe you three are on the list.”
White shook her head, and produced the envelope.
“No, we're not, but we've been sent here direct by Professor Black Quill himself to deliver a critical message to whoever's in charge.”
He just laughed outright, and I could feel Whitefire get angry.
“Look.  Quill has just discovered that the Titan Heart is volatile.  If this machine is started, it could cause an explosion big enough to level all of Equestria.”
That stopped him in his tracks.  Whitefire raised an eyebrow as he stood there, dumbstruck.
“You want me to have to open this letter?  I'm sure Quill could make your life plenty miserable if you make it look like this letter's been intercepted.”
“Er... no, no that's fine.  Here, take these passes.  They'll get you into the Titan; there's an entrance in the middle leg.  Once you're inside, just turn left and keep going until you make it to the Titan's front end.  General Blackhoof  is in charge of the Titan for this run.”
White smiled sweetly as she accepted the three passes.
“Thank you.”
“Oh, and one last thing,” the guard said after us as we started away, “If you're bullshitting me, Blackhoof will have you shot where you stand.  Just felt you deserved fair warning.”
Whitefire didn't even bother slowing down.
“Bluster all you want; doesn't make the threat any less real.”
As we approached the vast machine's foot, proximity only made it seem even bigger.  From where we stood, the leg alone towered into the sky, the body and stack above that soaring even higher.  If the Titan Heart could power this machine on its lonesome without a flinch... well, let's just say I was starting to get an impression of how dangerous this device could be if it... what, overloaded?  He hadn't been all too clear.  But then we were inside, and I had other things to think about.
“All of Equestria, huh?” I asked with a half-smile, “Well, I know I can come to you if I ever need some melodrama.”
“Hey, I wasn't going to get us in if I told him that it might possibly do something bad if it's used wrong.  I might as well have told him it'll blow up if the stars are aligned.  No, I'd say all of Equestria worked pretty well.”
After what felt like a thousand steps, we finally made it into the main body, stepping out onto level catwalk.  As I looked around the soaring interior of the machine, I only felt smaller.  The beautiful stained glass towered a hundred feet above me, shining cannons of iron and brass spaced between them, ready to pop out of hidden hatches and unleash hell.  The base of the leg, a dark mass of pure metal and clockwork,  continued on through the outer hallway, presumably reaching into the very heart of the machine.
“Passes?”
I started and turned to see who had spoken; it was just one of the soldiers manning the machine, a small, polite smile across his face.  As I showed him the card hanging around my neck, I noticed he was a Unicorn.
“Curiosity is the answer to your question.”
I almost opened my mouth to ask which question, but he cut me off.
“I saw you looking at my horn.  Since the Harvester Engine was first unveiled, I had a desperate urge to know more about it, to see it in action.  Many of my compatriots view it as a way to suppress the Unicorns; I view it as a solution to a problem, and a fascinating one at that.”
His smile spread as he glanced around the tall hallway, his gaze following the curve of the wall as it traveled up to meet the vaulted ceiling.
“There is nowhere I'd rather be in the world than here.  This is all so exciting; the bleeding edge.  We're not just tapping into powers unknowable, we're capturing them and making them dance.  Celestia's bones, I love technology.”
I shook my head.
“We may be making these powers dance, but they're not happy about it.  It's not a monkey we've got on stage, it's a lion, and it's getting antsy.”
“That's why we're here,” Whitefire picked up, “We have an urgent message for General Blackhoof.  I know this machine is a weapon, but it could prove far more dangerous than its designers intended.”
The soldier frowned.
“Something about the Titan Heart?”
I nodded.
“Bright lad.  Why don't you lead us to the General; we can explain everything there.”
He nodded.
“Right this way.”
A few minutes of walking later, and we were on the bridge... and I nearly forgot our mission for the glory.  The hall had been impressive, but it had only been a bulkhead; a tiny space between the outer shell and the armored depths of the Titan.  The bridge was truly massive.  It filled the Titan's entire front end, easily fifty meters wide and a hundred tall, stretching from the marbled floor to the very peaks of the twin roofs.  Two enormous stained-glass portraits filled the forward wall, one of Luna, one of Celestia, a great window filling the space between them.
“Not just any building,” I whispered to myself, “This is a cathedral.”
Whitefire tapped my shoulder and brought me back to earth, pointing towards the center of the bridge.  The room was laid out in a circular pattern; a scattering of consoles and workstations arranged in rings, all facing a central pedestal, where thousands of minutely detailed mechanical linkages ran through the floor, up a stand, and into a single board of switches and dials.  And of course, at the controls, stood General Blackhoof.  He was a monster of a pony; barely fitting in the uniform he wore, a short silver mane slicked back over his head.  The soldier motioned us to move closer to the towering figure.
“General, Sir, these three ponies have an urgent message for you.”
He didn't even turn.
“Let's hear it.”
Whitefire paused, then realized she was pretty much the designated speaker and stepped forward, opening the envelope.
“Sir, this message comes from Professor Black Quill himself.  He's been doing research on the Titan Heart, and has come across some troubling information: if you attempt to draw too much power, to make the Titan Heart produce more energy than it's supposed to... then it could trigger something terrible.”
“Define 'terrible'.  This machine is a weapon of war, after all.”
White was taken aback, but soldiered on.
“We don't know any specifics, but we're assuming some kind of massive explosion, at least big enough to consume this machine, if not everything for some distance around it, the damage potentially extending to non-military property and ponies.”
The general held out a hoof, still not turning to face us.
“Let me see the letter.”
Whitefire handed it to him, and he spent a moment reading.
“The good professor has always had difficulty explaining his concepts to lesser minds,” the general laughed to himself, continuing, “If I'm interpreting this correctly, there is no danger so long as the Titan Heart is not overdrawn.  The solution is simple: operate within normal parameters.  The demonstration will continue.  Thank you for your time.”
Sky glanced to White, who was trying to figure out what to say.  I took the liberty of speaking for her.
“Look, General, we have no idea what this Titan Heart is capable of.  If one of your crew screws up... hell, if YOU screw up, then we don't know if there'll be a teensy-tiny fizzle, or a blast that could leave this continent a smoking hole in the ocean.  Your little toy could wind up destroying far more than it's supposed to.”
The general finally turned to me, and he was not happy.  A full beard surrounded his snarling mouth, and bright gold eyes burned into mine.
“This is no mere toy, you insolent peasant.  This is a cathedral of war; a primal force of destruction!  This is death distilled into its purest form!  With ten, five, hell, even one of these, Equestria could conquer the known world.  We could be the masters of everything!”
“And if we fuck up, we could be the masters of nothing!” I shouted in return, “I can't speak from experience, but I've heard it's difficult to rule an empire when you and everypony else are dead!”
He was poised to shout again, but instead, simply turned away once more.
“Perhaps you need a taste of what we stand to gain.  Guards, restrain them, but allow them to stay on the bridge.  Escort them to the exit once the main gun's cycle is complete.”
I thought about fighting back as a few soldiers stepped up and put us in cuffs, but there were easily a few hundred ponies in the Titan, all armed, and all obeying Blackhoof's orders.  No, it was best to play along.  The soldier we'd met earlier was wincing where he stood off to one side, looking very nervous.
“Alright,” the general called out in his booming voice, “Everyone to your stations, we're getting underway!  I need secondary cores one through four spooled up; once we're at ten percent reserve power, give the main core a jolt and announce the demonstration over the external speakers.”
The ponies scattered about the room rushed to their respective consoles, tapping keys and pulling levers.  With a whoosh of steam, a panel opened in the floor, allowing a new device passage.  It rose to roughly eye level, then stopped, giving me a chance to get a good look at it.  From where I was standing, it looked like a collection of five gauges; one large one in the center, and eight smaller ones positioned around its outer edge.  A deep rumble sounded from somewhere deep in the machine, and four of the small gauges twitched, slowly starting to rise.
“Ten percent capacity,” somepony shouted.
“Excellent!” the general said, “Somepony let everypony on the ground know they're in for a treat.”
The loudspeakers activated with a crackle.
“Mares and gentlecolts, the demonstration will commence summarily!  Please give the Titan a wide berth so it has space to move.  Thank you.”
Then the floor began to shake.  For a moment, I thought something was wrong... then I saw the center dial start to rise.  The Titan Heart had been engaged.  It quieted down a moment later, but I would never forget that first shock, that moment where I first knew what it was capable of.
“Target, General?” one of the techs asked.  He thought for a moment.
“Turn her twenty degrees to Starboard.”
“But, Sir... Buffalo territory's in that direction!”
“Exactly,” he said coldly.
“Wait, WHAT!?” I cried, “You're going to attack the Buffalo!?  Luna's tits, they'd probably just surrender if they caught sight of this thing, you don't need to open fire!”
“Don't be silly,” the general said with a casual air, “I'm not firing a shell.  None of the luddites will get hurt.  But we will be getting signed surrender papers by sundown.”
“Capacity at half!” echoed through the bridge.  Then, with a groan of creaking metal framework, the Titan began to move.  With a clank of concealed gearing and a hiss of steam vented from dozens of pressure valves, it ponderously lifted one of its legs, then set it down with an earth-shaking boom.  It took ten full minutes to turn twenty degrees at that rate... and by that point, the main gauge had long hovered at full.
“Moment of truth, mares and gentlecolts!” the general cried, “Fire the main gun!”
I started as I saw something shift in my peripheral vision, and glanced up to see what it was.  A massive projector of some sort was moving from where it had rested flush with the wall, extending about halfway between the rear wall and the window, before stopping with a whine of spooling down machinery.  There was a moment of silence, and I thought something had gone wrong... until the massive stained-glass window hinged open.  It split down the middle along a seam I hadn't noticed, folding away from the center to the ticking of upscaled clockworks.  Once the beautiful piece of art was safely out of harm's way, the projector continued its journey forward, met by telescoping supports as it began to protrude from the Titan's nose.  When it finally came to rest for a second time, that's when the crazy shit started.  My skin started to tingle and my fur stood on end as conduits running along the projector's sides began to glow a vibrant purple.
“Cannon at thirty percent.”
As the glow intensified, I began to hear a faint popping noise, which steadily began to grow in intensity and frequency.  I squinted at the cannon, trying to figure out what was causing the sound, and started to notice tiny arcs of purple energy flickering into existence for mere moments all over its shell, almost like static on a television screen.
“Sixty percent.”
“Dunno about you,” Whitefire whispered, “But I'm backing up.”
I had no problems with that, and apparently, neither did Sky, as the three of us took a few slow steps away from the massive weapon, the outer surface of which was now alive with writing purple arcs of magical energy.
“Ninety percent!  Brace to fire!”
The deck's entire crew glanced around nervously, some of them watching in awe and horror, some of them stunned still, some of them praying to their dead princesses as the cannon's shell rippled like a thing alive... then time stopped.  For a moment, I wasn't sure what was happening.  I felt like I was moving... falling, maybe, my eyes still filled with white from the weapon's blast.  I couldn't hear – my ears and mind clogged with a deafening, high-pitched ring.  Eventually, I felt myself settle, and the light and noise gradually faded, giving way to voices... and pain.
“Pandora!  Pandora, can you hear me!?”
I forced my eyes open, and saw Whitefire's concerned face, backed by the light cloud cover I'd noticed earlier.
“Why is there sky...?” I mumbled, then realized I was feeling pressure, like something was sitting on me.
“You've been out for a few,” she commented, out of breath, “Long story short, Quill was right.  It wasn't quite 'all of Equestria'... but it wasn't a little fucking fizzle either.”
Then she turned, facing somepony I couldn't see.
“Sky!  Sky, I found her!  She's over here – help me get this off her.”
Sky's face entered my narrow world view for a moment; she was pretty beat up, blood trickling from a nasty gash on her forehead, but she seemed entirely unperturbed as she and White lifted a sizable fragment of stone off my chest.
“Can you stand?” White asked hesitantly.  I responded by stumbling to my feet, only to realize I was still in cuffs.  Sky noticed me struggling with them, and moved around behind me.
“I found the key earlier and was able to uncuff myself.  Digging myself out of the rubble first was... another story.”
The handcuffs clicked open and fell away, leaving ragged gashes around my wrists where they'd rubbed and cut while the explosion tossed me around.  Speaking of which...
“Where's the Titan?” I asked, turning... and what I saw changed my world.
“Girls... what am I looking at?”
“Question of the generation,” Whitefire commented in a wry whisper.  I was staring at... into... through... a hole in time and space itself.  A massive ring of violet magical energy a hundred meters across framed a window into a strange and surreal world much like ours, but... simpler.  The ground was pure white and perfectly flat, the sky similar.  Strange structures rose in the distance, towers of gears and linkages, but not built from any metal I knew... just... white.
“I think,” Sky said quietly, “This is where magic comes from.”
> 4: Taking Chances
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 4: Taking Chances

“Should we go through?” I asked nervously.  Whitefire shot me a funny look.
“I really can't see how that would be a good idea.”
I shrugged.
“I don't know.  I mean, portal to a strange, new world... when will we be here again?”
“You didn't seriously just say that,” Whitefire laughed dryly.  Sky had a funny look on her face.
“I am not sure,” she said, “Part of me is afraid, but part of me is curious.  I want to go in, but at the same time, I'm afraid of the potential consequences.”
I glanced between them.
“You're both fucking pansies,” I laughed, taking a deep breath, and stepping over the threshold.
“Wait, Pan, you can't... oh.”
I turned to see White had rushed after me, and in doing so, stepped across.  She froze for a moment, but then, just shrugged.
“Well, since I'm here...”
Sky followed a moment later, nervously eyeing the borders of the portal.
“We shouldn't go far,” she commented, “We have no idea how long this will stay open.”
I gestured to one of the massive clockwork monuments.
“Yeah, I just want to go up to one of those towers.  Get a closer look.”
Our footsteps echoed hollowly against the flat, white ground, the sound fading nearly to nothing in the white emptiness before echoing from the clockwork monuments.  As we approached the nearest ones, we began to hear the sound of their movements – the steady clanking of the vast gears meshing, rhythmic and hypnotic, free of the usually ever-present squeak of a lazily oiled shaft.  Whatever this white metal was, it either didn't need lubricant, or was very well maintained.  As we finally stepped up to the base of the monument after ten solid minutes of walking, I put my hoof against a vast gear... perfectly smooth.  So close to frictionless, I almost didn't feel it pressing against my skin.  Strangely, it felt warm, like some kind of energy was gently emanating from the depths of the machine.
“I think these make magic,” I said, voicing my gut impression, letting my gaze wander up the seemingly infinite height of the tower.  It just stretched up – never ending, never tapering down or decreasing in complexity.  A tether, connecting the earth to the heavens.
“Uh, Pandora...” Whitefire said nervously, backing up towards the massive gear, “Turn around.”
I did as she asked, and gasped in awe.  A machine, towering easily many hundreds of meters into the air, slowly strode across the infinite plain.  It was tinted a gentle light violet; a tiny, skeletal hub connecting eight vast, kilometer long legs which moved with slow, gentle grace through the clear air, like a giant, slow-moving spider.  It paused, and I felt its gaze on us for a brief moment, but then it just turned away, and kept walking.  I wasn't sure why, but... I thought it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.  It was a machine, but... something about it felt... alive.  I was about to say something, but then, a deafening sound echoed through the plain: a sound like something tearing at the seams.  I turned to the portal, and saw that it had expanded.  Significantly.  And a moment later, with another rip, it grew bigger.  Then bigger.
“Come on!” I shouted, sprinting for the portal, “If this keeps expanding, it could swallow everything!  We need to find what's keeping it open and get rid of it!”
We sprinted back into normal space a few minutes later, skirting around the portal's edge... and there lay the rest of the Titan.  Its front half was dust and memories, but its back half looked mostly intact, save for the damage it had suffered when it slumped to the ground.  A flickering of light caught my eye, and as I approached, I saw the Titan Heart: the rings of metal whirling metal surrounding a core of vibrant purple light.
“It's maintaining the portal,” I shouted back to the others as the ring of energy expanded again, “We need to get that turned off!”
As we approached the Titan Heart, it became clear that the blast had originated from the front of the device.  The entire front half of the Titan mech had been obliterated, sheared off from the back half with an almost perfect cut.
“Hey!”
I glanced over, and saw Whitefire had clambered up to the Heart, and was holding a cable in her hooves.
“One of the other intact cores is feeding it power!  If it has no power, it can't keep spinning, right!?”
“Worth a shot!” I shouted back, starting as the portal expanded yet again.  White motioned Sky up to the cable, who quickly withdrew one of her knives and severed the cable with one precise, deft strike.  The light vanished, the Titan Heart slowly spooling down... and the portal collapsed with a deafening 'crack'.  A blast of pure force flung me to the ground, dashing White and Sky against the ruined Titan and sending them falling to the earth, some meters below.  They weren't moving when I caught sight of them again.  I ignored the ringing in my ears and scrambled to my feet.
“Sky!  White!”
Sky was out cold, blood from a fresh gash pooling under her head.  Whitefire was slowly sitting up, groaning and clutching at her side.
“Broken rib,” she gasped, “I'll be okay, not my first.”
I gave Sky a shake, and she slowly regained consciousness, wincing and putting a hoof to her head.
“Didn't know you could feel pain,” I laughed, “Good to see you awake.”
“Dizzy...” she muttered as I helped her to her feet, but she didn't stay that way for long, swaying  for a moment and collapsing against me.
“Damn, you really took a crack to the head.  White, if you're feeling up to it, can you help me here?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Did you... Did you guys close the portal!?”
I glanced over my shoulder, and there stood the soldier from earlier, bleeding from a few small wounds, but otherwise intact.  I nodded.
“Yeah, the Titan Heart was maintaining it.  Guess we know what happens when it's overdrawn.”
I looked at the ground where the portal had been; it was scorched and blackened, still aflame in some places.  Where the portal's edge had passed into the earth, it had cut: leaving a long, smoldering slash among the wreckage of the Titan.
“Damn heroes, you are,” he said with a smile.  But I wasn't thinking about our victory.
“'What we stand to gain'.  Fucking imbecile,” I spat, “The good General survive, or do I get to dance on his grave sooner rather than later?”
The soldier shook his head.
“I'm not sure; haven't caught sight of him yet.”
His gaze shifted to the wreck, and he sighed.
“Honestly... I thought it was just too damn big to break.”
“Big just means lots of moving parts,” I commented as I helped Whitefire up, “Though that's kinda moot if you use a fucking bomb to power the thing.”
“Well, if what I heard's true, then 'bomb power' is the next big thing,” the soldier replied grimly, “The General mentioned at one point that this was just 'one of dozens'.”
I threw up my arms.
“Then let them have their Titans, just power them with a bank of smaller Harvester Engines!  There's no need to put this volatile... thing at the core of it all!”
“What do you think powered that cannon?” the soldier asked.  I was silent.
“That weapon was supposed to unleash a beam of pure magical energy – destructive on a primal level, and the emitter, the device producing this beam WAS the Titan Heart.”
I had a sudden urge to snap my fingers.  Which was weird, because ponies don't have fingers.
“That's it!”
Whitefire shot me a funny look.
“Is looking for clarification asking too much...?”
“It's been bugging me,” I continued, “Quill got access to the blueprints for the Titan, and he said it should work at full capacity without overdrawing the Heart, but this weapon tries to fire, and boom, overdrawn.  That means this weapon wasn't in the blueprints Quill had access to, and knowing him, he got the final versions.  The guy likes to be sure.  So this beam was some big, super-secret military project developed based on the incorrect assumption that the Titan Heart WOULDN'T cause some catastrophe if put under a lot of stress.  But that also explains this other thing!  Quill was wondering: why a Titan Heart?  Why not power a Titan with a battery of smaller Engines, which are much safer, more tested, and equivalent in mass?  Answer: because they wanted a secret megasuperlaser.”
“And,” Whitefire said, catching on, “Because Quill only finished the Titan Heart due to the military's interest, that means that the Titan Heart exists, literally, to make this beam.”
“And if it tries to do that, it blows up.  Cool,” I finished.
“Quill is going to love this,” Sky commented wryly.
With help from Gearbox, the soldier, we rounded up as many survivors as we were able into one of the troop trucks that had ferried soldiers to the demonstration, and made tracks for the nearest town.  Celestia, what a day.  Our assassin had a concussion, our gunslinger had snapped a rib, and the only one in any condition to fight was me.  Baseball-bat fillie.  Fortunately, the twenty-eight hundred bits left between us after Whitefire's purchase would probably be more than enough to keep us fed and housed until we were done patching ourselves up, after which we could hopefully pick up work of the less... paranormal variety.  We stopped by the local hospital to get our various injuries seen to, after which we headed for the local tavern at best speed.
“To you guys... or gals, rather,” Gearbox said with raised glass after buying the first round, “For saving Equestria with a combat knife!”
“Don't toast us,” Whitefire said, “Toast Sky there.  She cut the cable, and took the hardest hit for her trouble.”
Sky smiled weakly, impulsively putting a hoof to the fresh bandage around her head.
“To Sky!” Gearbox cried.
“To Sky,” we mirrored, and drank deep.
And that... that is how all this shit got started.  We knew the whole Titan Heart business was no small fry from the beginning, but we thought that since it was clearly so dangerous, it would be mothballed; existing models destroyed or locked up, and production ceased.  But we never thought, never thought for a SECOND that things would go down the way they did.  Luna's tits, did things ever spiral south from there.  Ah well.  Ignorance is bliss, right?

***

Three days later, our train pulled into the Manehattan central station.  We were home; battered, bleeding, and more drunk than a sailor on his last day of shore leave, but happy, and looking forward to that juicy bundle of bits.  Personally, I just wanted to get the money and go, come back and tell Quill what had happened after a decent night's rest and a few rounds of stiff liquor, but Whitefire's old cop sensibilities got the better of me.  She wanted to give it to him upfront, clear and simple... after he paid us, of course.  Come to think of it, with two thirds of our crew all bandaged up, there'd really have been no delaying the storytelling session.  His features plummeted when he opened the door.  He motioned us inside, and the moment we were out of sight, he was all over us.
“What happened out there!?  Celestia's bones, are you alright!?”
Whitefire smiled stiffly.
“The job was... tough.  If you don't mind, could you pay us now?  Trip home's long, and we've been though a lot.”
“Of course, of course.”
He handed us three thousand bits – forgot to deduct the two hundred he'd given us earlier.  That, or he felt we could use the extra.  Then he led us into his living room; a comfortable place with soft chairs, a crackling fire, and shelves of books.
“Now tell me,” he said once we'd all settled in, “What happened out there?”
I glanced to Whirefire.
“Where do we start, White?  Secret laser?  Alternate reality?  Asshole General?”
“Let's start with the secret laser,” White said, nodding.  Black Quill was thoroughly confused by now.  White adjusted her seat, and took a breath.
“Alright, Professor, I'll give it to you straight.  The blueprints you had were NOT final.”
“But I...”
“Please, don't interrupt.”
He closed his mouth, and nodded.
“They commissioned you to build the Titan Heart for one reason and one reason only: to directly power a devastating main gun in the Titan war machine; a weapon that doesn't just channel the magical energy produced by the Titan Heart, but uses the Heart as an emitter.  The designs for the beam were left out of the schematic you were given, presumably to keep the project a secret... but it also meant you couldn't take a look at it to determine if it would overdraw the Heart or not.  Guess what happened.”
He let his head fall into his hooves.
“The Titan Heart was overdrawn.  I knew I should've never built the cursed thing.”
“But what happened after is kinda cool,” I said in an attempt to comfort him, “So... it's not all bad.”
He nodded.
“Alright.  Continue.”
Whitefire complied.
“I don't know... exactly what happened immediately after.  We were inside the Titan when the weapon was fired.  I woke up in a pile of rubble; what was left of the Titan.  And behind me was a... hole.  In space.  Being generated and maintained by the Titan Heart.  I found Pan and Sky, and we... well, we went through.”
“WHY DID YOU...”
I sheepishly raised my hoof.
“My fault.”
The Professor sighed heavily.
“Continue.”
“On the other side, everything was... white.  Simple.  The ground was perfectly flat, and there was nothing there except these towers built of clockworks that seemed to stretch up infinitely.”
I tentatively raised my hoof, again.
“Spider monster.”
“Right, there was a kilometer tall mechanical spider.  It saw us, but it didn't seem to care... went about its business.  And that... is where things got bad.  The portal started to expand at an alarming rate.  We crossed the threshhold back into our reality and went around the portal to the back half of the Titan, which was still in one piece.  The actual force of the portal's opening was only directed forwards, so instead of firing a laser, it went off like a bomb.  Anyway, we saw that the Heart was still operational, and assumed it must be maintaining the connection to the other world... so Sky disconnected it from the Harvester Engines that were keeping it going.  When the Titan Heart shut down, the portal immediately closed... the shockwave did a bit of a number on us, though.”
He took a deep breath, trying to avoid flying into a panic.
“Alright.  I'll gather my things and meet with the Military Council immediately; it may take a little extra pressure to get the point home that the Titan Heart is too dangerous to use in such a fashion.  You three, try to enjoy your pay, and get some rest.  You've been through a lot.  Contact me if you're looking for more work; I've got a hunch this situation might produce more jobs ponies like you can handle.”
White nodded with a smile.
“Thank you kindly for the offer, sir.  We'll be sure to let you know if this ordeal hasn't softened our appetites.”  
I felt good as we made our way outside.  We'd done well; had even been offered more work.  The situation with the Titan Heart hung above our heads like a thousand ton weight, but was so high up it was difficult to see; its urgency lost to its distance.  Right there, right then, we didn't care about the fate of the world - we just wanted to get completely smashed.  Two door up the street we went; to Mercury's place.  For the first time, it looked like I'd have the means to pay off my tab, I thought to myself with a smug smile, and as expected, I was drunk within an hour  Several more had passed before the only part of the night I really remember swung around.  Sky was quiet, but happy, and I was practically bouncing off the walls, but Whitefire looked morose.  She voiced her thoughts a few moments later.
“You know... I've been thinking.”
I laughed raucously.
“There's no need to do that!  'S why we bought these drinks, after all!”
I was really, really drunk.  I moved to take another swig, but Whitefire took me gently by the wrist, guiding the mug back to the tabletop.
“No, really... listen, please.  I've been thinking about... well, death.  Since everything that happened at the Titan... I mean, we got lucky.  The explosion could have killed us.   The rubble could have crushed us.  The portal could have closed behind us.  The shockwave could have dropped us onto sharp debris.  Hell, the pissy general might have even shot us.  A lot of good ponies died, and we three failures survived.  Why?”
I shrugged.
“Can't complain.”
I felt her hoof against mine; a gentle caress.
“I'm not asking you to.  I'm not even asking myself to wonder why our lives were spared... it just got me to thinking.  We could die at any moment, from any cause.  If today were my last day on earth, what would I want?”
She leaned in close, whispering seductively in my ear.
“I would want you.”
I leaned back slightly, nervous.
“That's... sweet, but...”
“How do you know you won't like it if you've never tried?” she continued with a smile, “Grant a dying fillie her last wish, why don't you?”
I started to panic, but then I looked at her.  Her soft smile, her bright, hypnotic eyes...
“I want to pull away,” I whispered, mostly to myself, “But something about your... beautiful eyes... maybe I could just...”
Nervously, slowly, almost hesitantly, we let our lips touch.  It was exciting.  The taboo of it, the thrill of doing something my predispositions told me was wrong... it ran through me like an electric shock.
“Why don't we... why don't we go somewhere more private?” I whispered, breathing heavily.  She smiled seductively, took my hoof in hers, and led me to the door.
“I think we can manage that.”
I heard Sky sigh heavily and mutter something, but I didn't care.  I was entranced.  Enchanted.  We made our way back to Sky's apartment, where she led me into her bedroom with that small, almost nervous smile.
“This... is going to be different for you,” she said as she climbed into her big, soft bed, “But don't worry, it's not that much different.  Come on... let me show you a few tricks.”

***

I felt like absolute shit when I woke up.
“Oh, Celestia's eternal spirit, my fucking head...” I groaned, rolling over in bed, and coming face to face with Whitefire, who was smiling nervously.
“Morning,” she said with an apologetic grin.  Frantically, I looked around.  The sheets were in a state, both our manes were completely out of order, my beloved hat was discarded on the ground, and there was a roll of duct tape looped around one of the bedposts.
“Last night,” I opened hesitantly, “Did we...”
“Yup.”
“Were we...”
“Yup.”
I held up my arms.  Socks, for fuck's sake.
“Was I wearing...”
“Yup.”
“And that duct tape was...”
“Yyyyup.”
I collapsed back on the bed, and hid under my pillow.
“Ffffffuck.”
“Well,” she said hesitantly, “If it helps, you were having a blast.”
“It doesn't.  Thank you.”
She sighed, and got up.
“Well, as one night stands go, that was pretty good,” she commented as she tossed me my hat, “You're going to have to get up.  I need to make the bed.”
“So this... doesn't mean commitment?” I asked, peeking out from under the pillow.  Whitefire paused a moment, frowning.
“Uh... no.  We were drunk, and while I think you're bloody hot and certainly wouldn't mind a long-term relationship, we were... well, drunk, and you've already stated your aversion to all things lesbian while you were sober.  Two plus two is five... wait... ah, fucking headache.  You know what I mean.”
Slowly, the memories of last night began to filter back as I straightened out my mane, put on my hat, and got out of bed.  It was... different, different like she'd said it would be, and different in a way I wasn't sure I was comfortable with... but also like she'd said, for a one night stand, it had been fantastic.  I didn't dare tell her in case she took it as an indication I was interested, but I was smiling as I stepped out into the living room in search of a hot drink.  I was clearing sleep out of my eyes as I stepped into the kitchen, and started when I nearly ran into Sky, who was staring blankly at me.
“I made coffee,” she said after a moment, and handed me a cup.
“Thanks,” I said with almost painful sincerity, and moved over to the table, where I nursed the delicious drink for several minutes before White came out of the bedroom.  Sky handed her a cup as well, then continued to stand and glance between us for some time as we sat at the table, sipping our respective drinks.
“Well?” she asked after a while, and White spewed her coffee back into the cup, laughing raucously.
“Sorry,” she said a minute later, wiping away the tears, “Sorry, Sky.”
She cleared her throat, then turned to Sky with a serious face.
“Pandora and I have chosen to attribute our actions to a state of extreme intoxication, and have elected not to enter a formal relationship.”
Sky just blinked for a few moments, then frowned.
“You're mocking me.”
“I am.”
“Fine.  No more coffee.  I'll just spend the time between the end of my morning routine and the beginning of your hopelessly skewed day... watching... television.” 
She shuddered visibly.
“Actually, maybe I will keep making coffee.”
Sky finished off her cup, then headed back into the kitchen to rinse it out, but not before making another pointed glance between Whitefire and myself.  Once Sky was out of earshot, White faux-whispered,
“I don't think she believes me,”
I was getting a bit frustrated with the whole situation... or maybe it was just the headache.
“Why are you taking this so lightly!?”
She seemed a bit taken aback, then a little pained, and glanced away.
“Because if you take everything too seriously, then... life's rough.”
Something about the way she said that indicated real pain... indicated a past.
“What happened?” I asked gently.  She forced a smile.
“Maybe I'll tell you some day.”