The Equestrian Empire has controlled the galaxy for over ten millennia. Now, it threatens to fall apart through forces irreversible. Yet Starswirl Stabledon has developed a long-term solution, the success of which lies in its secrecy.
The Equestrian Empire will fall. Those are the words of Starswirl Stabledon—the first and greatest psychohistorian. For he has applied his science to galactic society and, in doing so, has seen the truth. The mighty Empire, which has stood for over ten millennia, will regress, break up and succumb to chaos. Lacking unified leadership, twenty-five million equine worlds will turn against each other and unleash a dark age without foreseeable end. Skepticism over Stabledon’s findings leads him to be targeted. His predictions have placed not only him, but also his large group of followers in jeopardy, setting them on a millennium-long path that will change the future forever—a path that must be traversed if harmony is to survive.
Note: This is a crossover that takes the characters of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic and places them in the setting of Isaac Asimov's Foundation Series. The reader does not need prior knowledge of Foundation to understand this crossover.
… pony from the world of Helicolt (1). Born in late 10029 E.E., died in 10103 E.E. (3 A.P.). Although the first stages of his life remain a mystery, Stabledon is rumored to have earned his “cutie (2)”mark at a young age, when he first displayed his proficiency in mathematics to Helicoltian instructors. He accomplished much within his lifetime, but he is most widely known for his part in the development of psychohistory, the science of…
… commenced his plan after his final trial on the capital world of Canterlot. As a result of the ordeal, the Empresses of the First Galactic Equestrian Empire (6)sent all those involved to…
1. Current coordinates from center: (32 degrees N, ~23,400 light years). See “Helicolt” for more.
2. An old Helicoltian name for talent marks. The origin of the term is under debate.
…
6. See sections titled “Empress Celestia” and “Empress Luna” for elaboration.
The unicorn walked on the terra-path, shifting out of the crowd that had gathered outside of the spaceport. She had disembarked at a busy hour, when every equine was huddled in lines, focused on catching their flight while the flood of new arrivals glided past. Like everyone in the throng, she wore Canterlotian-styled attire: a violet, loose-fitting suit, and white, magnetically-latched shoes. Her white-and-violet mane was brushed straight, her bangs hovering above her eyes, acting as a shield from the blaze of the sun.
All atmospheres have their own distinct qualities: scent, stuffiness, warmth and pollution. Even without the extended senses of a unicorn, an equine could tell just how clean a world was from smell alone. Any native could identify the altered, purified air of Canterlot; it being one of the most artificial.
More than a millennium before, millions of equines—mostly unicorns—had worked to change the atmosphere of the planet completely. The spells used were estimated in the hundred millions, the energy output in the billions. Their priority: crafting the capital into its striking image, and letting it serve as the Empire’s cradle, the heart of society at the near-center of the galaxy. In their efforts, those millions of forgotten workers had succeeded.
The unicorn levitated her luggage, keeping it in close proximity as the crowd condensed again. Ahead was a local transport hub, a wide, rectangular structure with a domed ceiling. Cylindrical buses funneled through the center road of the structure while enabled machines whirred endlessly under a variety of light sources and sunroofs. On the sides of the hub were empty spots, with more than a dozen tall kiosks mounted equidistant from each other on the pavement.
She trotted to one terminal and pressed the hoof-sized button. There she waited until a pointed, narrow vehicle descended onto the allotted space nearby. Once the hover-mechanics ceased and the flow of energy dissipated, she approached. The tinted window slid back to reveal the driver, a pegasus wearing a black work uniform that stretched around his wings, forming two long bulges on the sides of his body.
“Identification, Miss?” he asked. As she stared absentmindedly at him, he added, “There is no need to feel afraid. The Canterlot Transportation Service is often evaluated and inspected to ensure we follow ethicality guidelines. Trust me when I say that when you are within this cabin, you are in safe hooves.”
“Oh, I know already,” she replied. “This isn’t the first time I’ve taken a private transport. I’m just focusing on finding my Canterlot ID tag. And—ah, nevermind. I found it.” A card flew up from her saddlebag and slid through the outer scanner. The chauffeur looked again as the card floated in mid-air beside the unicorn, whose white horn radiated faintly. He nodded, then focused on the side monitor within the vehicle.
“Nova Sparkle, age thirty, unicorn,” he said, glancing between her and the blinking monitor. “No criminal record, a public approval rating of nine-point-five, and sufficient funds to bring you to the edge of the city; if you wish. Everything checks out on this end.” The passenger door clicked. “You may board now, Ms. Sparkle.”
Nova nodded graciously and waited for the vehicle latch to rise, the aged inner mechanisms scraping against each other. Once she and her belongings were inside the constricting taxi, the wide door shut softly. The engine hummed to life as she buckled herself in, and the vehicle lifted off the ground by a meter, the magi-tech pulling the area’s surrounding energy and using it for propulsion.
Nova shuddered, straining her eyes,
“Is something the matter, Ms. Sparkle?” the driver asked, staring at her. “If you feel sick, I could bring you to the closest health center. I personally know a doctor who can fix just about any physiological issue you may have.”
“No, it’s fine,” she said, straightening her back and ceasing any shaky movement. “Energy collectors like this taxi’s engine bother me slightly, because of my horn.” She gestured towards the appendage in question. “I feel magic moving, and I get strange sensations throughout my body when energy flows elsewhere.”
The driver scratched the side of his head with a hoof. “I may be a non-unicorn, but isn’t the magical density highest on Canterlot? There should still be plenty for you to use, even with the engine’s consumption.”
“Well, yes. But, mechanical magical flow is still a strange sensation regardless.” Nova smiled, and the driver shrugged. “Anyway, now that we’re moving, please take me to—”
“—Actually,” he said abruptly, “give me a moment.” He swiveled around and fit his forehooves into two slots on the steering wheel. “I realize that we’ve been chatting too long. We should move out of the private transportation lane before I inconvenience other taxis.”
Crossing her forelegs, Nova waited as the cabin rumbled, sending gentle vibrations through her backbone. The hovercraft then rose from the empty street, passing idle, suspended vehicles before gliding through the checkpoint and heading to the nearest inter-flight system. She peered out the small window as white towers and the gleam of other transports’ metal exteriors skidded past.
“So where to, miss?” asked the driver, his tone calmer and less hasty.
“Take me to the outer southeast region—specifically, this address.” Nova held out a piece of paper, which the pegasus merely glimpsed towards. “Or is it too far?”
“I operate strictly within the city limits,” he replied, staring straight ahead. “If it is anywhere outside, I will drop you by the closest station to your destination.”
“That’s nice, but could you take a look at the address?”
The driver shook his head. “I have to keep an eye on incoming traffic, miss. Even with automatic control, I have to be aware of things the computer isn’t. Please input the location into the monitor behind my seat; the information will then feed into my eyepiece. It’s an accurate way to find directions, and saves me the hassle of inputting it myself.”
Nova let her eye wander onto the sleek screen. Judging by polish alone, the machine was recently installed. “Did they add this to all taxis?” she asked. When the driver nodded, she said, “It seems like a waste of money. Addresses can be given through cheaper means.”
“I’m not complaining,” he replied with a smirk. “Driving this hovercraft through traffic daily is already hard enough as it is. That monitor helps to ease the task by just a tiny margin.”
“I… guess that makes sense.” Still, Nova grumbled quietly as she spent a dozen seconds lightly tapping the interface. “There.”
The pilot glanced towards the side monitor as it flickered and changed colors with emerging text. “Sector three?” he asked, sitting upright partially. “What business does a unicorn like you have there?”
“Oh, I’m seeing a friend—a pony,” added Nova hastily. “It’s been a very long time, and we’re looking to catch up on some old times.”
“Ah, just a visit.” He nodded slightly. “That makes sense.”
Nova shot him a puzzled look. “It wouldn’t make sense otherwise?”
The stallion gulped and put on a forced smile. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Miss. Please don’t take me for one of those supremacists we all hear about on the news. It’s just that I haven’t met or transported a unicorn who actually lives in sector three. Well, this sector three, I should say. The other cities on Canterlot I’m not sure about.”
Nova sighed. “It’s because a lot of Canterlotians nowadays feel more comfortable grouping with their own kind. That’s why some sectors are distinct.” She looked out the window, at the passing white towers. “It’s a mentality I think does more harm than good.”
The driver opened his mouth, but he quickly shut it, looking away. His eyepiece flickered a few times, displaying minuscule letters that could only be read and understood by the wearer.
Upon turning back, he said, “Ms. Sparkle, I have been updated on your registered activities of the past hour, which I am obligated to verify. Could you answer some questions?”
“It shouldn’t be too much of a problem,” she said.
“Did you arrive at the spaceport this morning, or later on? There’s a small discrepancy in times between ship arrival and leaving the hangar.”
Nova looked to him, brushing back her mane. “If this relates to the delay, I can explain. It took me two whole hours to go through clearance, and to have all of my identification cards scanned and triple-checked. It’s a common procedure for all equines when they come planetside.”
“What about the interval before that?” inquired the driver, furrowing his brow. “It says that you have been gone for three years. Your Canterlot ID was only updated this morning—during the clearance checkpoint, I suppose. Where were you prior to landing on Canterlot?”
“I’ve been staying with my sister and my parents on a different world. Have you heard of the planet called Fillyan?”
The driver paused, glancing at a vehicle that sped by them. “There are millions of planets to remember, but yes, I believe I’ve heard of Fillyan before—or maybe it was Fillyis, or Fillyoma. There are at least a couple hundred worlds with ‘Filly’ in their names. What is this one like?”
Nova raised an eyebrow at him, but her expression quickly reset, and her lips curved into a smile.
“It’s a very nice planet,” she began, “with clear skies and low, single-level buildings. You would like it there; the pegasus population outnumbers that of the unicorns and ponies.” The two bulges poorly concealed by the driver’s uniform moved by a fraction of an inch, and the driver blushed while using his hoof to press them down. Nova smiled warmly. “Sure, magic isn’t as dense there as it is here, but it isn’t too bad. The transition in lifestyle isn’t rough, since Canterlot and Fillyan share the same geographic features. The voyage averages out to about a week. The costs are high, because more than a dozen jumps are involved, which is why I took an extended vacation.”
The driver, whose gaze had been lost ever since she mentioned ‘pegasus’, quickly looked back to her. “But if Canterlot and Fillyan are so similar, why did your family leave?”
He raised his eyebrow, and Nova’s smile dropped as she hesitated. “They never really told me the reason,” she responded. “I assumed it was because it feels much more diverse on Fillyan. Weather follows a three-month cycle—a ‘seasonal’ pattern, as it’s called.” Her eyes darted to the window, as if there was something of interest outside. “While here on Canterlot it’s a bit more bland, since so many equines prefer sunshine on a daily basis, and rain occasionally. Fillyans aren’t too fond of weather control, while Canterlotians are the opposite.”
The stallion peered back at her, raising an eyelid, but he instantly looked away when a hovercraft shot past their vehicle’s outer hull, nearly scraping against it. While the driver was not looking, Nova exhaled the breath she had been holding.
“Interesting,” said the driver finally. He opened his mouth, as if to continue the discussion, but his eyepiece flashed a few times. Once again, Nova quietly exhaled. He said, “Say no more, Miss, I understand. I… might actually look up that planet, Fillyan, if so many pegasi live there.” He smiled, but the expression vanished almost as soon as it arrived. “Anyway, it will take us a few more minutes to reach your destination, and you must be tired after going through customs.”
* * *
The driver was wrong. Minutes became a half-hour due to a traffic jam within the inter-flight system. Nova spent the time looking out of the tiny compartment, and being falsely reassured by the driver that they would be back on track shortly.
Nova's gaze followed the buses slowly accelerated past her fixed position in mid-air. “Maybe I should have gone with public transportation after all,” she thought aloud.
“What was that?” the driver asked.
“Nothing, nothing. Just commenting on something that’s changed in the past few years.”
“Okay.” He turned his attention back to the traffic. “Would you mind if I took a few aggressive maneuvers?” Nova shook her head, and the driver smirked. Trailing behind one vehicle, the driver cut off an intruding aircraft and descended into an exit path, finally clearing away from the traffic. The swift motion sent Nova’s mane into a fray. When the driver glanced over again, she proffered a worried grin.
“Sorry for the inconvenience, Miss Sparkle,” said the driver confidently. “We’ll be reaching your destination shortly.”
Soon enough the taxi plunged into the residential district of Sector Three. White hemispheres, dotted with windows and skylights, protruded from the ground. From sight alone the environment seemed peaceful, but through sound it seemed the opposite. Sirens echoed in the distance, growing louder as the taxi continued its descent. The sounds leaked through the sealed doors of the airtight cabin. When the vehicle finally came to a halt, hovering inches above the ground, the repetitive blaring was at its loudest.
The pegasus chauffeur was unusually silent as the latch opened, and Nova Sparkle quickly saw why. The closest hemispherical building had more commotion than all the other similar buildings in the district. The siren echoed from a large transport as it rose from the dome’s outer landing pad. Heavy-hooved equines garbed in gray uniforms trotted in and out of the home. A small crowd of ponies had gathered along the sidewalk, but most of the spectators shuffled onwards seconds later.
“Are you sure this is the right address, Miss?” asked the driver. “If I’m not mistaken, those are Global Security uniforms, and it looks like they are conducting a search.”
Nova froze in her seat, looking out the window. “Yes, this is the place,” she said finally, blinking. “Could you wait here, please? This shouldn’t take very long, and I may need transportation once it is finished.”
He stared at her with a bewildered expression, but it faded and he shrugged his shoulders. “Fine, Miss, but please remember that there is an extra charge for waiting.” The driver brought his gaze around to the Global Security officers. He added, “I’m sure you know this already, but please watch what you say around them.”
She nodded, giving him an appreciative smile, then crawled out onto the pavement. She pushed and apologized her way through the small crowd of onlookers before hesitantly walking up the pavement.
Nova cleared her throat as an officer came closer. “Excuse me,” she said, “may I ask what you are doing?”
The closest unicorn strode past her, not even paying her a glance. Nova then repeated the question to another equine. The next uniformed equine did falter, but he swerved, jogging to the vehicles. The third made it a point to arc around her, as if she were filth from the planet Manera. Nova groaned audibly, huffing through her nose.
“Oh, come on,” she said towards the group of three as they hung back, glancing towards her. “Could you at least give me a yes or no?” Each of them refused to respond, failing to pretend that there was something of interest nearby other than her.
Nova swivelled to face the entrance and banged her head. Rubbing her head with a hoof, she looked up and made eye contact with two tall, muscular stallions. Armored plates covered the front and sides of their body, and visors shielded their eyes. She cowered back, her gaze wandering every emotionless feature of their stern faces.
The first guard said, “This house is under investigation. Return to your home immediately.”
“How come?” she replied softly. She bit her lower lip, and stood up straight. “This is the home of Starswirl Stabledon, isn’t it?”
“Return to your home, Miss.” The guard inched forward with one powerful hoof-step. The tip of his horn glowed, fluctuating in intensity. Nova shrank back, a fresh bead of sweat running down her forehead.
“Ease yourselves, you two.” The voice broke the silence, and the faint glow of the guard’s horn faded as if on cue. A smaller stallion—only a few centimeters taller than Nova—walked out the entrance, levitating a tablet. A badge and various medals decorated the front of his uniform. “I will take it from here.”
Without any protest, the two grunts walked right past Nova and stood at attention a couple of meters away.
“And who are you?” asked Nova, assuming her standard posture, peering towards decorated officer. “Pardon me if I am wrong, but none of you seem to be friends of Mr. Stabledon.”
The higher-ranked officer shook his head. “My name is not important, and is allowed to be withheld under Global Security jurisdiction.”
“Then what is your role here, sir? Am I allowed to know that much?”
He shrugged. “I am simply leading this part of the investigation, ma’am. But, now that I have answered your question, perhaps you would be willing to answer mine.” He briefly glanced at her through his tinted visor before returning to his tablet. “From your previous question, is it safe to assume that you are you an associate of Mr. Stabledon?”
“He’s a close friend of mine, though we haven’t kept contact recently.”
The officer finally pulled his eyes off his tablet for more than a second. “Oh, really? Perhaps you could elaborate on your relation to him.”
Nova’s friendly smile faltered as the authoritative gaze of the officer beared down upon her. She coughed, glancing at the muscular grunts and all other armed officers nearby. “Of course I can,” she said sheepishly. “I’m sorry if there are any discrepancies, since I’ve been off-world for a few years and—“
“—What is going on here?!” The new voice came from behind Nova, and it drew her gaze away from the officer in charge. The unicorn possessing the voice—a blue-coated stallion—sprinted up the pathway, eyes set on her and the officer. He did not, however, notice the two bulky guards who had sprung onto the path. Nova cringed moments before he slammed into them, momentum knocking him the ground but barely moving the grunts. The two statues made the motion to leap onto the dazed intruder, but a swift, silent gesture from the higher-ranked officer stopped them in their tracks like a failsafe switch to a piece of machinery.
Rising to his hooves, the blue unicorn eyed the two guards and gulped. “Sorry, sorry. I meant no harm or aggression of any sort.” Turning around, he set his yellow eyes on the higher-ranked officer. “But, I still demand an explanation for your presence here!”
The small official sighed, then looked up. “And just who are you to make such a demand? Not the homeowner, that is for sure.”
“Crescent Moon, Canterlot-born,” he replied sternly, trotting up to them at a brisk, not-so-threatening pace. “Acquaintance of Starswirl Stabledon, the pony who lives here.”
The officer’s eyes lit up, his gaze directed solely upon Crescent Moon. “I see,” he said. “So we have two friends of the suspect here? That is very fortunate for us.”
Crescent briefly locked gazes with Nova, but he looked back at the officer again. “And what about the explanation?”
“Ah, yes,” said the officer, tucking his tablet away. “To put it simply: the residence of the pony Starswirl Stabledon has been cordoned. Unless either of you have authorization, you may not enter.”
“Cordoned?” Crescent glanced at the other officers. “Does that include invading his home, taking all of his personal, possibly fragile items?”
“Under the circumstances, we must confiscate any belongings deemed ‘related’ to his crime.”
“And,” interjected Nova quietly, “what crime is that, exactly?”
The officer shot her a peculiar look, but he sighed. Using a low tone of authority, he said, “The foreign-born known as Starswirl Stabledon has been arrested under charges of treason towards the Equestrian Empire.”
Nova gasped, but Crescent Moon remained silent.
“This relates to the trial, then?” Crescent asked. “Why, it isn’t for another week!”
Nova’s eyes widened and her already-open jaw dropped further. “What are you talking about?” She gazed between them. “Do you mean a court trial?”
Turning away from her, the officer brought up a tissue to his eyepiece. “Ah, you know about it,” he said. “Well, there is much to do prior to the event. The paperwork is immense: so many signatures, allocations, and reservations need to be coordinated by our hooves. We must keep Mr. Stabledon under our eye while our attention is elsewhere.”
“Then may I see a copy of your warrant?” inquired Crescent. “Just as a final confirmation.”
“Certainly,” replied the officer. “I guarantee you will find everything in order and our jurisdiction unquestioned. That is how Global Security operates, after all.” He tapped one of the medals—the traditional star and moon symbol of the Empire—on the front side of his uniform, sending out a white holographic image.
The officer angled the hologram to Crescent, who started skimming through the text. Nova attempted to lean her head over to Crescent’s position, but Crescent made no room for her nor noticed her movement at all. She shuffled her hooves awkwardly up until Crescent’s expression fluctuated. “I guess this an approved operation…” he said silently, “from the Empresses themselves.”
Nova gasped again, but before she could quickly skim the document for herself, the officer tapped his star-and-moon medal, tucking the holographic image away. “Of course it is approved,” he scoffed. “Now, the content of the warrant is all I am allowed to divulge, meaning that you have no other reason to be here. Both of you will leave the premises willingly, or these two highly-trained spell-casters”—he pointed to his armored guards—“will escort you.”
“But—!” Nova quickly brought up her foreleg, only for it to be forcefully lowered back to the ground by Crescent.
“Let’s do what they say, Miss,” whispered Crescent quickly. “I believe we’ve troubled them enough.” Nova glared at him, yet Crescent was already looking back to the officer. “Thank you, sir. I apologize for my entrance earlier.”
“It is no problem,” he growled in reply. “We gladly inform those who are curious—so long as the number remains small and controllable. Please, have a wonderful afternoon.”
With a slight nudge from Crescent, Nova Sparkle walked silently, glancing back at the officers, who remained by the entrance of the white dome. The decorated official gazed back suspiciously, aiming his annoyed gaze towards Crescent.
“I’ve weeded out as much information as I could,” Crescent whispered halfway down the path, his muzzle inches away from her ear, “but now they’re in a bad mood. Continuing the argument at this point won’t help either of us. If anything, it will only hurt Mr. Stabledon.”
When they reached the roadside, Nova sat on the sidewalk, her head angled towards the floor. All of the onlookers had moved on, leaving her and Crescent as the only equines near the road. She watched as Global Security brought out possessions that belonged to Starswirl. There were portraits, desk utilities, holo-tablets and a digital combination safe. However, her eyes naturally followed the objects of interest or uncommon household items; like the black, opaque orb no larger than her hoof. A Global Security unicorn levitated the sphere, carefully placing it inside the nearby armored vehicle.
“So,” said Crescent, breaking the silence, “what is your relation to Starswirl?”
Nova shut her eyes and said, “He’s an old friend.”
“Well, he is an old friend of mine, too, but that’s because he is at a late stage in his life. Still, something tells me you’re using ‘old’ in the other way.”
“I’ve known him since I was a foal.” Nova ground her teeth. “That’s what I meant.” She looked to the ground and took a couple of deep breaths.
“Then,” Crescent said, “I guess seeing and hearing all of this must be a real shock to you.”
Nova nodded slowly. “It’s a lot more than that. He’s been like an uncle to me, and he’s just a harmless old stallion. What trouble could he have gotten into?”
“That’s a bit of a lie, isn’t it? Regarding the ‘harmless old stallion’ bit. Starswirl’s always encountered problems with the government, or so he tells me.”
Nova’s head shot upright, and she glared at Crescent. He backed up again, lifting a hoof up defensively. “And just how do you know so much?” she snapped.
Crescent coughed, adjusted his uneven mane with a hoof and looked back to her with an uneasy smile. With a tone of authority, he said, “I am the lead coordinator of his project: the Stabledon project. We were going to discuss its fate today, because of the upcoming trial, but”—he brought his gaze back to the distant Global Security officers—“it looks like my discussion with him will have to wait.”
“What trial?!” she said impatiently. “That’s the second time I’ve heard of it.”
One of Crescent’s ears flopped. “You really don’t know?” he asked. “I assumed that all of Stabledon’s friends and acquaintances knew of it.”
Nova took yet another deep breath. “I’ve been off-world for three years,” she stated, her anger no longer present. “Not all news of Canterlot reached me, and I’ve barely communicated with Starswirl.”
Crescent tapped his muzzle with a fore-hoof, glancing between her, the ground and Stabledon’s violated home. “If that’s the case, you’re more confused than I had thought. Let’s talk this over elsewhere. Miss…”
“Nova… Nova Sparkle.”
Crescent’s eyes lit up, and his mouth opened partially. “Oh, I knew you looked familiar—I must have glanced over one of Starswirl’s pictures that has you in it at least a hundred times. Starswirl’s spoken very highly of you before.” He held out his hoof. “Like I said, my name is Crescent Moon. Even though we haven’t met in an ideal situation, it’s still a pleasure to meet you.”
Nova cautiously examined the outstretched hoof, then shook it firmly. For the first time, she met Crescent’s smile with her own.
“Let’s go elsewhere,” he repeated. “If we wait for too long near cordoned areas, they will suspect us of misconduct. And after that encounter, we shouldn’t test them any further.” He looked around, his gaze landing on the semi-occupied, unmoving hovercraft. “Is this taxi waiting on you?”
Nova nodded. “It is. The driver has been waiting for a while now, so he may be irritated for wasting so much time.”
“Strange… taxi drivers would usually leave by now.” He peered at the car, but shook his head. “Oh, well. It doesn’t matter. Would he mind one more passenger?” Crescent asked, turning to her again. “I walked here from sector four, but I doubt I can walk back so easily at this time of day.” He gestured to the distant inter-flight system, which was still clogged with various transports.
“I don’t think so if we’re heading to the same place, but he will probably charge more—”
“—I’ll pay for my own fare, so don’t worry.” Immediately, Crescent trotted to the taxi, waved his own ID through the outer scanner and boarded.
The moment Nova entered the passenger cabin, the vehicle door slammed. She yelped, retracting her tail while pressing against an equally surprised Crescent. Blushing heavily, Nova scrambled to an upright position. A thick piece of glass rose to cover the space between both vehicle cabins, separating the driver from the passengers.
“What is this about?” asked Crescent, pressing his forehooves against the glass.
“I have received orders to contain you two,” said the pegasus over a speaker, looking ahead. He flicked a switch, starting the engine. Nova blinked and shuddered, each of her hooves trembling against each surface
Crescent peered at her shaking limbs. “Is something wrong, Nova?”
“No, no... it’s just the shift from the magi-collector. It bothers me when it starts up.” She glared at the driver. “He’s put on a much higher setting than before, though. The mechanical flow of magic is much faster, and... it gets to me more easily.”
Crescent quietly cursed. “He’s preventing us from casting any spells.” He returned his attention to the window and demanded, “On what grounds do you do this?”
“I will answer that,” said a voice originating from the cabin speaker. Nova and Crescent looked back at each other, glanced at the stationary driver, then attended to what was outside the passenger windows. The higher-ranked officer was trotting down the lawn, his mouth opening and closing in sync with the words.“Forgive us for taking this sudden action, Crescent Moon, but you are a leader of Starswirl Stabledon’s project, which Canterlot Global Security has been investigating for some years now under firm suspicions of treason. Nova Sparkle, we have verbal evidence—gathered from your confession to me, and outside the taxi through its reliable outer microphones—that you are a good friend of Stabledon. For security purposes, you are both under arrest until further notice.”
“This is insane!” gasped Crescent, glaring out the window. The officer did not react.
“All participants—ranging from small involvement to large—are being contacted and/or collected as we speak, Crescent Moon. They have played a part in Stabledon’s project, which is the very subject that leads us to suspect him of treasonable actions.”
“What about me?” asked Nova. “I know Starswirl, but that doesn’t make me a participant.”
“Yet you are a good acquaintance, which means you could be called in for questioning on Stabledon’s character if it is deemed necessary. For security purposes, we must ensure that you will be readily available.”
Nova’s eyes narrowed through the glass. “Then what are we supposed to do?”
“Both of you have two choices: you could be brought to the outer palace grounds, where you will be placed under our supervision; or, if you wish to have personal comfort, you will be led to your homes and kept under a form of house arrest.”
“And Mr. Stabledon had no choice in this matter?” asked Crescent, pushing his muzzle to the transparent surface.
The officer stepped away as both Nova and Crescent glared at him. He continued, calmly, “He is being brought to the Palace for monitoring and pre-trial questioning. As I have said, there is much prior work to be done. But we will take the utmost care of him, considering his age and likely deteriorating mental state.”
“But I no longer have a home on Canterlot!” Nova interrupted. The officer’s eyes shut abruptly, and he brought a hoof to his ears as he cringed. His mouth spat out what seemed to be a swear that had not gone through the microphone, but he stood up again.
“You have the right to remain silent,” he said,“so please try to refrain from yelling—especially in a confined space such as that taxi.” He frowned while gesturing at his earbud.
Nova quickly covered her mouth. “Sorry,” she said, lowering her voice. “But, I… I mean, you probably have my records at this point. I’ve been on Fillyan for three years, and I moved out of my old home to save money while I was away. Mr. Stabledon had offered that I stay with him until I find a new place.”
“Then you will have to live on the Palace Grounds. Would that really be an issue?”
Nova hesitated, her eyes widening. She gulped and began to say, “It wouldn’t be—”
“—No, she doesn’t have to.” Nova glanced over to Crescent, who had backed up and was no longer invading her personal space by pressing up against her window. He continued, “She can stay with me in my home. It is large enough for two, and I will accommodate her as best as I can.”
“That doesn’t violate any known regulations.”The officer brought his malicious eyes away from Crescent and back to Nova. “What is your choice, Ms. Sparkle?”
Nova glanced between the officer, who wore a baleful expression while rubbing his damaged ear, and Crescent Moon, who looked at her in a reassuring way. Without taking another second to look between the faces, she said, “I will stay with Crescent in his home.”
The officer muttered something under his breath, but it went unheard. “Then it is decided,” he said formally. “Crescent Moon, once you input your home address into the monitor in front of you, your driver will return you to your dwelling. Officers will be stationed along the perimeter, all of whom are capable of naturally wielding magic. Some privileges, such as communication with the outside, will be taken away as part of House Arrest Clause Thirteen. Any attempts to escape confinement—whether they be through magical or non-magical means—will bring harsh repercussions for the both of you and will be recorded. We thank you in advance for your cooperation with Canterlot Global Security.”
The voice cut off, and—except for the sound of the magi-collector and various electronics—the vehicle was cast into relative silence. The tinted window went pitch black, impairing Nova’s and Crescent’s abilities to perceive the outside world. Still, their bodies swayed normally as the vehicle ascended and moved.
Nova and Crescent looked at each other, but neither said anything. Mouthing a quick ‘thank you’, Nova gazed out the window and reflected on the turn of events that led her—a unicorn with a near-perfect approval rating—to be arrested and treated like a criminal.
… described as the greatest endeavor of the new millennium in a scholarly field. The project commenced in 10093 E.E. (-7 A.P.) during a time of academic persecution, which culminated years later in the Global Security trial of Starswirl…
… Among the arrested leaders was Crescent Moon, who later adopted Nova Sparkle’s maiden name upon their marriage. In a political situation out of their control, the two unicorns are believed to have first met by chance. But with matters regarding Starswirl Stabledon, very little can be considered coincidence…
When the vehicle touched down, the internal prisoner mechanisms shut off, and Nova and Crescent stepped out only to be greeted by a line of unicorn officers. The mass of authority led to the entrance of another white hemisphere in a sea of counterparts; the only difference this time was that the distant onlookers were unicorns, not ponies. Through the partially-tinted pilot window of the taxi, Nova shot a glare at her driver, who instantly averted his eyes and shrunk into his seat before the windows turned pitch black.
While walking up the pavement, she asked Crescent, “Do you live here by yourself? I really wouldn’t want to be a bother on anyone else.”
“No, I live here alone. The rest of my family lives on the opposite side of Canterlot.”
Without looking at the intimidating guards, Crescent swiped his card on the door lock and stepped to one side, bowing his head as Nova trotted in first.
Nova looked around at the various dividing walls that cut the house into separate rooms.
“You must always be organized, since you weren’t expecting a visitor at all,” she complimented. The entrance shut behind them, and Crescent swiped his card again. “Do you—”
Crescent had raised a hoof to his lips. Peering at him strangely, Nova watched as Crescent closed his eyes. He remained quiet while his horn glowed, illuminating a small portion of the dim room. Yet, in a split-second, the radiating light given off by Crescent’s horn dissipated.
Crescent winced afterwards, opening his eyes. “I figured as much,” he panted. He brought a trembling hoof to the nearest wall, leaning slightly. “They have a scrambler nearby.”
Nova glanced at Crescent’s horn peculiarly. “Is that what caused the energy to leave your horn so quickly? I’ve never heard of a ‘scrambler’ before.”
“I wouldn’t have expected you to,” he replied, smiling reassuringly. “They have been around for decades, but Global Security put them into practice just over a couple of years ago, when you were still off-world.” He looked at her still hooves. “Shouldn’t it be affecting you, though? I thought your body shakes when you feel energy flowing in unnatural ways.”
“I’ve learned a few coping mechanisms over the years,” she said. “My condition was worse when I was a foal, but I learned to disable feeling in my horn entirely. I had to do that during the ride over here.” She glanced around, scanning the room. “But before I start concentrating to use my horn, can I have an idea of how these scramblers work? I just want to know what sort of feeling to expect.”
Crescent nodded. “You are familiar with collectors already, aren’t you? Well, magi-scramblers work like magi-collectors; they pull the energy away and let go of it once the conversion process is done.” Crescent pushed off the wall, slowly walking into the room while staring up at the ceiling. “But scramblers repeat the routine every second or so without actually using the collected energy. The process happens so quickly that no unicorn can focus long enough to cast a spell—let alone bring magic into their horn. The moment we gather it in, the power gets drawn into the machine.”
“Sounds irritating,” she muttered, to which Crescent nodded.
“It is. Few can trump the machines. Trying to normally use magic is like fighting a losing battle. The only known way to win is to disable the scrambler physically; but knowing Global Security, they probably have placed the magi-tech somewhere outside my home where we can’t reach it.”
While Crescent surveyed his surroundings, Nova sighed and shut her eyes. Light surged at the base of her horn and traveled to the tip, but the glow unnaturally streamed out and phased into the dimness. Wincing, Nova growled as her horn lit again. After encountering the same result, she strained her eyes and tried once more. But before she could continue, Crescent grabbed her hoof and broke her concentration.
“You need to stop,” he said with a worried expression. “You are trying too hard to fight the scrambler. I’m not kidding about this; unicorns have gone to the arcane emergency room over these kinds of ‘duels’.”
Nova nodded, pressuring the base of her horn with a hoof. “You’re right, though,” she stammered, her knees shaking. Before she could completely lose her balance, Crescent sprung to her side and allowed her to lean on him. “These are much worse than magi-collectors.” As she breathed heavily she strained her eyes again, and the shaking of her limbs subsided. “I guess I won’t be casting any sort of magic for a while.”
“Neither will I,” Crescent said. “The scrambler has a temporary, dizzying effect, so what you’re feeling right now is completely normal. Your head needs to clear up, so you need to lie down.”
Nova nodded weakly and slowly walked alongside Crescent, whom she was leaning on for support. “I may just take a nap,” she said groggily. “I was already sleepy from waking up early; this only made it worse.”
Crescent showed her to a sofa, which absorbed her weight and completely conformed to her body shape.
Although her eyelids were heavy, she squinted at Crescent and asked, “What will you do in the meantime?”
“While Global Security is busy rummaging through Starswirl’s property,” he said quietly, “I have to conduct a search of my own.” He walked out of sight, and soon returned with a blanket. After bringing the insulating fabric over her immobile body, he said, “Get as much rest as you can. I think you will need it for when we talk later.”
* * *
Slowly opening her eyelids, Nova peered into the dim room and lifted her head up. She blinked in the darkness and shrugged her shoulders. But before she could bury her mane into the pillow again, her eyes bolted open, and she sat upright. The layout of the room had changed; the once neatly arranged items were disheveled and unorganized, lying in piles or tossed about.
As she sat up, she brought up the blanket protectively; yet, as soon as Crescent trotted in, she dropped her stance. His gaze wandered between her, the mess, and the windows. “Oh, good, you’re awake.” he said. He stared at a nearby pile of papers and metallic devices, blushing. “Um… please ignore the mess for now; I’ll explain everything soon.” Adjusting one disheveled pile, Crescent walked over and sat on the other end of the couch. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Better than I was in the morning,” she said, stretching her legs with a yawn. “How long was I asleep?”
“Four hours.”
Nova paused in the middle of her yawn, and immediately turned to the nearest clock. Looking back to Crescent with a frown, she said, “You could have woken me up earlier. I almost slept the day away”
He shook his head. “I saw no reason to. Not to mention you seemed too comfortable.”
She glanced around at the shifted objects and opened drawers. “So… did you find what you were looking for?”
“I did, but I hoped I would find nothing.” Crescent reached to the coffee table and grabbed an object off of the surface. “I searched every nook and cranny of my home, and I came up with this.” He held out to her a crushed, black square no larger than a Canterlot ID tag. Thin wires protruded from the thick, fractured edge. “It wasn’t here a few days ago. It was attached to a dark surface. Global Security, or whoever was snooping through my home, must have placed it there.”
Nova leaned in closer. “It looks like a recorder of some sort, judging by the tiny holes.”
Crescent nodded. “Essentially, it’s an audio receiver powered by an electric battery. Global Security is not known for using non-magical methods. But because of the scrambler, they resorted to something a little more primitive.”
“What should we do with it?” she asked in a low whisper.
“There is nothing left to do, aside from tossing it out.” He jingled his hoof, separating the cracked receiver into pieces. “I’ve crushed it already.”
Nova moved back, staring at him with wide eyes. “Don’t you think that was a little risky? Security wouldn’t appreciate someone breaking their equipment.”
Crescent shrugged his shoulders. “They know they can’t listen in on equines under this stage of house arrest. They probably know this has been discovered, but I could threaten them with a legal or ethical matter if they approach me. Yet, if I do so without being approached first, they will deny any accusations.”
“If they’ve done this for us, doesn’t that mean they are using the same methods for Starswirl?”
“I’m sure they have bugged every centimeter of the room—or cell—he is staying in, since his arrest is of a higher level. Not to mention they might have cast a few spells that monitor sound—but Starswirl probably knows that already.” He muttered, “If anything, he is already two steps ahead of Global Security.”
“Surveillance spells? Do you think they have cast some here?” Nova shut her eyes, but a quick nudge from Crescent stopped her. He frowned, gesturing to the ceiling that acted as a barrier between them and the magi-scrambler.
“Sorry,” she said, smiling sheepishly. “Checking for spells has become a habit.”
“Well, no need to do that here. The scrambler practically stops us, and Global Security, from casting spells of any kind. Once all magic concentrated around a spell is taken away, it no longer functions and falls apart as a result. While this method does contain and prevent us from using magic, it also backfires against Global Security on some levels.”
“Well, that removes the possibility of spells.” Nova looked at the corners of the dome. “Are you absolutely sure that this”—she gestured at the broken receiver—“is the only one?”
“Sadly, no.” Crescent dumped the pieces into a waste slot embedded in a wall. “My hooves can’t reach around every corner of this place, and levitation is out of the question because of the scrambler. But I checked the ventilation, and ran a compact metal detector everywhere I could. If there is another bug somewhere, it’s put in a location that cannot pick up sound very well.”
“But we should still try to talk quietly if we start treading on topics relating to—” Nova stopped talking, biting her lower lip.
“Starswirl,” Crescent finished. He shrugged off Nova’s reaction and continued, “His name isn’t taboo, Nova, and it’s not like they will get more information out of us than they already have.”
Nova winced, and her expression hardened. “And what information is that, exactly? What is going on, Crescent? Starswirl never mentioned anything about a trial. In the last message, he only assured me that ‘Everything is fine’ concerning his project. How has it gotten the attention of Global Security?”
“It sounds like he didn’t want to worry you. That sounds typical of him.” He looked to the ground. “Or, maybe he felt his calls were being monitored, so he never outright explained the situation.”
“You had reason to think your calls were being monitored?”
Crescent nodded slowly. “For a year now, we’ve known that Security forces have been monitoring the project. Agents have been in our midst, but we’ve been able to single them out rather easily. I’m guessing that because their espionage is failing, they have issued a trial to analyze concerns relating to his project, which they unjustly believe is the source of treachery. And—well, before I go on, what do you know?”
Nova wore a puzzled look. “About what, specifically?”
“The project. What we’ve come to call ‘The Stabledon Project’”
Glancing up at the ceiling, Nova said, “I don’t know the details, but I know the goal. You’re helping to create some kind of all-encompassing spellbook, right?”
“For the most part, yes,” said Crescent with a nod. “The details of it are unimportant right now. All you need to know is it really shouldn’t attract the slightest attention from the authorities on Canterlot. There are tens of thousands of encyclopedias being produced across the galaxy—maybe hundreds on the capital as we speak—but Global Security only cares about this one.” Crescent rubbed the base of his muzzle. “Their motive is something else entirely, and my guess is that officials are using our harmless project as an excuse to confront Starswirl.”
“Confront him over what?” She leaned in. “You clearly know more about Starswirl than I do, Crescent. What do you think?”
Crescent stood up, and trotted to the nearest window, looking from every possible angle. After a few seconds, he turned around. “There are two distinct details regarding Starswirl’s background: his project, and psychohistory.”
Nova gazed at Crescent blankly, but then her eyes lit up. “I thought he gave up on the entire ‘psychohistory’ theory decades ago. I only heard rumor of it from my parents, but that’s all I have.” She tapped her hoof against the sofa. “It lets him see the future. That’s as much as I can remember.”
“Yes, that is what every equine knows. Some call him insane, but we both know that he is far from it.” Crescent fell silent, but he stomped his hoof. “Forget what that officer said about Starswirl’s ‘deteriorating mental state’. By eternity, if there wasn’t five inches of alloy in the way, I would have…” Crescent did not finish the statement, instead gazing to the floor. “Sorry, I was distracted there. But sort of like what you said, psychohistory has let him foresee crucial events of the Empire. He has made statements about what he’s determined using this science, and doing so has made him infamous on Canterlot.”
Nova raised an eyebrow. “He’s infamous?”
“—Only secretly infamous, if that makes any bit of sense. In the past few years, every now and again, Starswirl makes a public statement that sounds along the lines of—” Crescent suddenly stopped, peering out the window. “I am a little paranoid, so I won’t mention it.”
“Come on, you have to tell me.” She stood up and approached him. “We’re both in this together, so you can’t just leave me in the dark.”
Crescent hesitated at first, and he broke eye contact as Nova stared. But then he leaned closer, his voice a whisper. “The Empire will fall.”
Crescent backed up and waited for the shock and awe to fade from Nova’s face.
Nova’s mouth had gone agape, but she shook her head. She stuttered, “H-how could he possibly say that?”
“Because he believes it, Nova. He is not the type to joke around about these things—or any subjects, for that matter. He knows it’s true, and psychohistory is his proof.”
Crescent turned away from Nova and took a few breaths. “It doesn’t sound too unrealistic, I might add. I’m starting to notice faults on Canterlot which weren’t here a decade ago. Suppression of academic authorities, nightly curfews over certain cities, attempted assassinations of lesser officials; and those are just off the top of my head. Considering what Starswirl says, I think those fractures will grow.”
Nova raised her foreleg, as if to object, but halted. Her hoof and her head sank to the floor. “My parents agreed, too, I think,” she said. “They moved off-world very quickly, even though our ancestors have lived here on Canterlot for generations. They said they liked Fillyan more, but that excuse never sold me.” Taking a deep breath, she started to pace, her voice rising in volume. “I mean, what kind of equine chooses to migrate just like that?”
Before Crescent could answer or even gesture, Nova looked away. “Oh, who am I kidding? I’m guessing maybe they experienced those fractures for themselves, or maybe Starswirl might have convinced them somehow using the data of psychohistory.”
Finally halting, Nova dropped her gaze and brushed her hoof against the carpet. She stayed quiet as a police siren grew in volume, then faded away into the distance outside their temporary, hemispherical prison.
“I asked Starswirl about psychohistory as a child,” she muttered in the complete silence, “and his response was along the lines of, ‘No need to worry, Nova. That is all behind me.’ I never bothered about it as a foal, but did he really lie to me?”
Crescent Moon half-shrugged. “Plenty of equines lie to foals, especially over matters that don’t concern them.”
“It concerns me now.” She looked around Crescent’s home, stopping to stare at an officer patrolling past the window. “Especially now. I never made Starswirl out to be a liar.”
“Well, on the outside, Starswirl is just a calm, old wrinkled stallion with some charisma; but as all project members know at this point,”—Crescent brought a hoof to his temple—“he holds a lot of secrets within his aging mind. I can tell from looking at Mr. Stabledon that psychohistory isn’t just a theory, it’s a working science. All of his computerized belongings—whether they relate to the project or not—are heavily encrypted. I know that because a curious project member—a skilled hacker who went against our wishes—once tried to access Starswirl’s files to uncover more, but the attempt backfired and destroyed his own hardware.”
“What happened to that equine?” Nova asked.
“Starswirl immediately expelled him from the project," said Crescent with a shake of his head, "and we haven’t heard of him since.”
Nova shot him a puzzled look. “But Starswirl is a mathematician by destiny. I’ve seen his talent mark. Does that make him good with computers? Could Starswirl possibly rig tech items with that kind of security?”
“I have my doubts. My guess is that he had help from other equines that none of us are aware of. Still, the prospect of ‘seeing the future’ attracts too much attention. Perhaps the Palace Authority is trying, and failing, to obtain this information that only he knows about.” Crescent paused, his expression turning into a frown. “Or maybe they just want to silence Starswirl once and for all, because he is only provoking the population.”
“And what’s your opinion on this situation?”
Crescent stood up, narrowing his eyes into a scowl. “I honestly question Starswirl’s methods. In any normal circumstance, I would assume Starswirl is too stressed, lacking rest and relaxation. He really should enjoy his remaining years while he still can. Starswirl needs to give up command of the project to somebody else, someone with more youthful energy and perhaps just as much motivation. I am sure a fair portion of our group would agree.”
“But…?”
Crescent looked to her as she frowned, but then he sighed. “I’ve learned to trust him. Even now I trust him wholeheartedly. He has always been calm, even during the most stressful situations. He’s an outstanding pony, Nova, and you know that as well as I do.” With another shrug of his shoulders, he added, “I thought of this recently, but if some equine asked me who my role model was… Starswirl would be the first person to come to my mind.”
Nova’s expression was blank. While Crescent looked away, she trotted closer, and she wrapped a foreleg around his neck before he could turn to her. Crescent's eyes widened fully in the one-sided embrace, even as Nova detached and backed away. “Thank you,” she said with a grin, her white cheeks turning a shade of scarlet.
Crescent blinked twice. “I’m sorry for asking… but for what?”
Nova’s smile did not falter. “For proving to me that you are someone I can trust.”
“Oh.” Crescent shook his head. “I was just, er—” He stopped to cough into his hoof. “It’s no problem, Nova.” Breaking eye contact before the silence could sink in again, Crescent trotted in one direction. He glanced at the unorganized heap of belongings that lay scattered on the floor. “Anyway, now that you’re up to speed, I have some cleaning to do.”
“Do you need help?” she asked. Crescent looked as if he was about to protest, but one warm smile from Nova made him stop, blush, and look away. Nova picked up a short stack of books nearby, and then asked, “But, once we’re finished here, what will we do?”
“We wait,” said Crescent with a shake of his head. “There is not a single action we can take that will not backfire against us, Starswirl, and all other equines involved. Hopefully Starswirl’s psychohistory will help him through this, because with everybody who could possibly help isolated from him, he will need his predictions when he goes up against Global Security.”
Electricity hummed through Crescent Moon’s house the moment Nova pressed a button. In the darkness of the room, a single light source turned on, displaying moving pictures while the speakers bounced sound across the curving walls.
Crescent trotted up to the other end of the sofa, holding a cup. He placed it in front of her, walked away, then returned with another. Nova peered at the brown liquid contents, sniffed its sweet aroma, then slurped the beverage.
“What is this?” she asked. “It’s good, it tastes familiar… I just can’t remember what it is.”
“Hot chocolate,” he replied, to which Nova’s eyes lit up. Crescent watched Nova take another gulp, leaving a brown stain above her mouth. “Careful about burning your tongue. You’re drinking it like it’s your first time tasting chocolate.”
“I’ve had chocolate before,” she said, her upper lip still stained brown. Crescent chuckled and gestured to her muzzle, making her blush and wipe the substance off with her hoof. “There’s just no such thing as ‘chocolate’ on Fillyan. The average diet consists of little sugar and a lot of carbohydrates. One of common foods is this wonderful pastry called a ‘muffin’—”
“—Go back to the news,” said Crescent, turning away from her. Nova frowned, but she reached over to the dial remote, turned the mechanism a few notches, then pressed the large center button. The screen went from portraying a popular Canterlotian drama to a single stallion dressed in formal attire, text skimming above and below him. The two of them watched in silence for a minute, Nova casually sipping her hot chocolate.
“Nothing related to Starswirl,” she replied dismissively. “I only see the typical stories, like the results of an election or an uprising on a planet a thousand parsecs away.” She put the cup down and turned to Crescent, whose eyes were skimming the text as fast as possible. “Why is there so little coverage of the trial, if he is as infamous as you said?”
“‘Secretly infamous,’ remember?”
Nova shot him a puzzled look. “That still doesn’t make much sense.”
“Fine,” he said, frowning, “but to answer your question, Global Security is likely containing the flow of information. An entire courtroom filled with thousands of equines would be a horrible idea. There have been some riots in the past when some equines disagreed with the court’s ruling, or were downright furious with the suspect or even the ruling council. But if only a small number of equines show, then the news would not be ‘adequate’ to Security’s tastes. If anything, they want to keep news of the trial as minimal as they can, just enough to keep away radical emotional response. But they want enough there to spread the word and discourage similar actions.”
Glancing around her neat and organized surroundings, Nova asked, “When is the trial, again? Lounging around all day has made me lose track of time.”
“Tomorrow,” he muttered. Nova almost spat out her drink, coughing while bringing a hoof to her muzzle.
“It’s been six days already!?” she said, holding her forehead. “I… I must have really lost track of time.”
“Starswirl will stand before the court in the afternoon. It is an open trial—unless the officials have changed it—and perhaps we will be given permission to go.”
“Perhaps?” Nova repeated, staring at Crescent. “We should definitely be able to go, if it’s open.”
Crescent pointed to the nearest window with his hoof. “Not if we’re still under house arrest, we aren’t.”
Nova turned her head around to follow Crescent’s hoof, and spotted an idle officer out in the dead of night, still maintaining a perimeter around the house. “Well,” she said, looking back, “do you think we could ask them?”
“If we act unruly enough... then yes, we could right now. But we’ve already agreed to be as cooperative as possible. So, with that in mind, we will wait until they drop off our daily supplies in the morning, then see if we’re given clearance to go.” Crescent peered back at the screen, listening to the news stallion. “After all, we may have to participate in the trial. That is the entire reason for our house arrest, if you’ve forgotten.”
“So we’re still playing the waiting game?” she asked, rolling her eyes.
Without glancing in her direction, Crescent murmured, “Do you have a better idea?”
Nova did not answer, instead electing to drink the rest of her hot chocolate in silence.
* * *
The next morning, Nova descended the stairs groggily. She saw Crescent seated at his kitchen table, drinking out of a cup.
“How well did you sleep?” he asked.
“Not well.” She took the chair next to Crescent and poured herself a drink. “I assume this is quarter-caffeinated?” When he nodded, Nova smiled and took a sip. “What kept you up?”
“Anxiety,” he answered.
“Likewise.” She gulped down the drink, letting the caffeine surge through her body. “I was worried about Starswirl and afraid for what we may have to do at the trial.”
“Well, I’m worried about all of the project members.” He wiped his eyes. “If this trial for any reason doesn’t work out well, all of us will be affected. Starswirl could be sentenced to death if he’s somehow found guilty of treason, and dozens of equines—including me—could see time in prison.” Crescent placed his cup against the counter and sighed. “And if they go after every equine involved, I can’t imagine—”
Three sharp knocks came from the adjacent room, and Crescent immediately stopped speaking. His sleepy eyes and drooping ears became alert as he stood up. He nodded towards Nova briefly, and they went to the front door. Once it opened to Crescent’s ID tag, they saw three adorned officers standing in triangular formation outside.
“Crescent Moon, Nova Sparkle,” greeted the closest unicorn, “you have been granted permission to attend Starswirl Stabledon’s trial. There are enough members already attending, so you will not be required to give a brief account to the court.”
Nova let out a sigh. Glancing at each other, they both nodded. “We will go.”
Silently, Nova and Crescent went back inside to dress in their proper Canterlotian attire, and walked out surrounded by guards. Still, Nova bit her lip, then turned to the highest-ranked officer. “Could you… give me a moment? I haven’t been able to use magic for an entire week, and I would like to cast a spell to test my horn’s health.”
“Fine,” he replied. “You may cast a basic-level, non-violent spell.” He brought his gaze to Crescent. “The same goes to you.”
Smiling, Nova shut her eyes. Light radiated from her horn as the wind picked up around them before dispersing. Crescent had chosen to materialize water out of thin air, letting a raindrop hit the sidewalk.
“Is everything satisfactory?” the officer said.
As soon as Nova and Crescent nodded, the officer gestured to his accompanying guards. They floated two metallic cones into plain view, sliding them over Nova and Crescent’s horns and turning a latch.
“Is this another precaution?” asked Nova, tapping the metal lightly with her hoof.
The officer nodded. “We can use these now that you are under our direct supervision. The Energy Disruptor is the least-risky alternative in a house arrest situation when dealing with magic wielders. The metal used for these cones is the same used when constructing space-faring vessels, and as a result, you cannot gather in the energy present in a surrounding area.”
Nova opened her mouth to speak, but she was cut short by the officer’s visor, which flashed with red-colored text. He sighed, gesturing to the Global Security transport vessel waiting at the end of the street. Without another word, the guards ushered Nova and Crescent down the path and into the sole passenger door before shutting it.
“So,” Crescent asked, “are you excited to see Starswirl after all these years?”
Nova glanced around the barren, windowless walls. If a bit darker, it would replicate a prison cell completely. “I’m not so sure anymore,” she said, slumping into the seat beside Crescent. As she stared unhappily at the ground, Crescent rested his hoof over hers. Nova’s foreleg budged slightly as a result of the vehicle rumbling and the magi-collector starting, but she reached over and held onto Crescent’s entire foreleg until the shaking ceased. Looking up at his blushing face—her muzzle inches away from his—Nova smiled and said, “I can only hope for the best.”
* * *
They had arrived in the courtroom while Global Security officials were still preparing. This gave Nova the opportunity to examine the entire room, the ceiling of which laid almost thirty floors above. Every four floors stood a wide seating arrangement. Along with more than a few dozen other unicorns, who belonged to the Stabledon project, Crescent and Nova were seated within the first three rows on the ground level. They would be subjected to the scrutiny of however many equines would be sitting above.
Nova waited, passing the time by talking to Crescent or simply looking down to the floor. She stopped zoning out, however, as the nearby chatter became louder and more muffled. Turning her head skyward, she saw that the higher levels had been completely filled with equines. The once-empty seating area behind the project members was alive with conversation. The courtroom had been filled to full capacity.
“What happened to keeping news as minimal as possible?” she whispered.
“Global Security may have control over media,” Crescent replied after examining the crowds for himself, “but they can’t control news spreading from mouth to mouth. Still, I wasn’t expecting Starswirl’s ‘treason’ to be such a popular topic in Canterlotian conversation.”
Nova’s eyes wandered the crowd again before she turned back.
“I don’t feel like having this many unicorns in the room is safe. What if one of them casts a spell? What if someone is hurt?”
“Which is why Security may have already activated a magi-scrambler—or ‘Energy Disruptor’ as that officer called it—among the crowds in case this does go downhill. They wouldn’t want a thousand unicorns casting spells in an uncoordinated manner.” He shook his head. “That would be begging for a riot to break out.”
Nova shot a peculiar look at Crescent, but something else made her quickly look away. The radiance of the upper levels of the courtroom had dimmed, ending the murmurs nearby. Out of the gloom and darkness, on a high balcony located above the one housing the judges, came two lights. They were tiny twinkles, drawing gazes by growing in intensity like stars in the void of space. A tall screen flickered on to enlarge the twinkles, showing the faces of two tall, winged unicorns. The white alicorn stood with divinity, her mane of rainbows breezing over the balcony as her eyes scanned the crowds before; the blue alicorn, however, had her head raised high, as if unwilling to look upon those below her.
“The Empresses...” Nova muttered, her jaw dropping.
“That must be why...” whispered Crescent, awe-struck. “I was wrong. Dammit, it isn’t the content of the trial that has gathered the crowd; it’s the Empresses!”
“And they’re presiding over the trial?” She leaned closer to him, her words nearly lost among the thousands of other faint whispers.
“There must have been a last-minute leak,” said Crescent, shaking his head. “This sort of rumor would spread quickly just about anywhere—maybe to the entire first tier of the galaxy. The Empresses never make a public appearance.”
Glancing at the commotion behind her, Nova whispered, “So everyone here just wants a glimpse, even if they are far-off." She fixed her gaze on the screens. “I can sympathize. When I was a foal, I wanted to really look at them... outside what I see in pictures and videos.”
“But on a world with billions of equines, that dream is too unrealistic.” Crescent straightened his posture as Empress Celestia’s gaze wandered over their group. When she looked elsewhere, he relaxed his shoulders and said, “They have an Empire to run, and they can’t spare the time to greet each equine individually.”
“And yet here they are, Crescent, taking time away from running the Empire to see something so insignificant.”
A voice boomed through the large chamber, drawing the spectators’ attention to the tall screens, which simultaneously amplified sound. They projected the stern face of a stallion that towered over all of them. His eyes pierced down, as if they were bearing into Nova’s soul. Nova herself lowered her shoulders and shrunk down. Not even a murmur went through the rows of seats; even the slightest gesture or head-turn was frowned upon.
With a voice that captivated the entire courtroom, the stallion said, “The trial of Starswirl Stabledon shall now commence!”
As if on cue, the grand doors of the entrance opened, and all gazes shifted to it. Four guards—decorated in golden armor, ribbons and jewels—trotted down the center aisle. Despite their refined appearance, it was the equine they surrounded who drew the most attention.
A dull, black suit covered his gray coat, but his aged white mane, tail and beard were cut and styled formally. He strode down the courtroom, his wrinkled, topaz eyes aimed straight ahead. A clueless spectator would think: Was this the suspect? A simple, old pony? Was he really the reason why the Empresses were here?
Yes, he was. Nova and the project members had their eyes trained on the pony, even before the armed escort had walked past their row. The equine surrounded on all sides was none other than Starswirl Stabledon—leader of a group of fellow scholars, and supposed traitor to the Empire.
With court in session, Nova and Crescent fell completely silent, watching as the judges made their initial statements and proclamations. Starswirl stared ahead the entire time, not even flinching when his face would appear on the large screen. The same went for the Empresses, who stared down upon the whole courtroom like statues.
Court proceeded with the opening salute to Equestria, the Empresses and eternal peace. The ceremony took almost two hours, carrying with it a dullness that draped the room and its occupants. Perhaps the only ponies not slouching in any manner were Starswirl, the representatives of Global Security and the Empresses.
The dullness ended, however, with a single statement.
“The defendant, Stabledon, shall now step forth.”
Nodding off up until that point, Nova snapped to attention. She subtly nudged Crescent, whose eyes were half-closed. He sat up along with the other fifty members of the project, looking to Stabledon.
Starswirl weakly rose from his chair and walked to the large, embedded insignia of the Equestrian Empire located at the end of the center aisle. Once he stood within the middle, the insignia—a platform that fit in between the tiles—levitated from the ground. It carried him—and him alone—upwards to be easily viewed by spectators on the higher stands.
Another platform rose simultaneously, holding a young stallion who wore a variation of Global Security attire. His platform ceased moving once he was in front of the judges’ balcony.
“Mr. Stabledon,” began the prosecutor, smirking, “are you confused about anything? Would you like for us to remind you why you are here?”
“There is no need,” said Starswirl, his voice croaking. “Although I am old by Canterlot standards, I am not deaf nor slow in processing basic information. I understand my position here today.”
“Is that so? Then do you understand the charges made against you, Mr. Stabledon?”
“I understand them fully,” he replied, blinking once.
“And your response?”
Stabledon fell silent, his eyes scanning the upper balcony that housed the judges. He stated, “I have not performed a single act of wrongdoing.”
Harsh murmurs erupted from the crowd, but they were silenced by a bang of the gavel.
His smirk developing into a frown, the prosecutor said, “Perhaps you would wish to re-think that answer. I think it’s fair to say that our onlookers here say otherwise.”
Starswirl shrugged his shoulders briefly. “I have, young sir. I have had plenty of time to think while under confinement. And I do not believe that I have overstepped what little authority I possess.”
“You are the highest-ranking member of your own project. You do have authority of some sort.” The prosecutor adjusted his eyepiece. “But, for additional clarification, what is your project, exactly? You are creating an encyclopedia, correct?”
“We are focused on creating a new spell-book. One that will encompass the millions of discovered spells of all categories across the galaxy. All project members are primarily unicorns, because they are the only type of equine that can use magic without technological aid.”
“Compiling millions of spells?” replied the prosecutor with a yawn. “How long would such a task take? Months? Years?”
“Years, by my estimate.”
“By your estimate?” interrupted the prosecutor. “Does your ‘estimate’ pertain to your results concerning...”—he glanced to the corner of his eyepiece—“psychohistory?”
“No, not in this case,” Starswirl replied, unfazed. “Accounting for the daily workloads of each member of the project, I know it will take decades to gather together a database of millions of spells.”
The prosecutor partially bared his teeth, but the expression faded as soon as it appeared. He asked, “And just how many equines of Canterlot does your project encompass, Stabledon?”
“I can guess that at least fifty are present here today—”
“Only fifty? Through our investigations, Mr. Stabledon, we have determined that thousands of equines—mainly unicorns—are part of the project.”
Starswirl narrowed his eyes at the prosecutor. “If you had let me finish, I would have gotten to that.” The prosecutor bit his lower lip under Starswirl’s glare, though Starswirl continued, “But in some ways, those thousands of unicorns are involved. Those young minds have all volunteered on academic grounds. Thousands of spell-casters have joined in searching for information, locating spells, and possibly even creating new ones if time allows. Yet the true compilation happens between the inner fifty members, who work tirelessly in creating a seamless compendium.”
“Uh-huh,” began the prosecutor. “Let us backtrack, Mr. Stabledon. You said, before, that psychohistory cannot be applied to your estimate. And yet isn’t that what your science is about? Predicting the future?”
Starswirl frowned. “That is its definition in its simplest form. Psychohistory, while it does ‘predict the future,’ does not apply to narrow searches or small groups.”
“So in what case is psychohistory valid?”
“The science is only valid in its application to the large groups of equines that make up society. It bases itself less upon individual mentality and more upon that of mobs. The mathematics involved are complex—having been formed, edited and altered throughout the decades—and only a fellow psychohistorian could grasp the most basic equations.”
“Oh, really? Then could another ‘psychohistorian’ step forward to elaborate, or confirm what you say?”
Stabledon gazed at the floor of the platform. “I am the first and the last psychohistorian,” he muttered, the screen-speakers amplifying his voice. “There were others with me who I had taught, but they have long-since passed on. And with the affairs of the project taking up my time, I could not find new minds to pass the technique onto.”
The prosecutor looked puzzled for a moment, but his eyepiece flashed. “If no one is left to confirm your findings, then how can we assess the validity of your predictions?”
“The validity of what predictions, young sir?” asked Starswirl.
The smirk returned to the prosecutor’s face. “For instance,” he said, jabbing his hoof out towards Starswirl, “your prediction that the Empire could collapse!”
“Ah, yes... that.” Starswirl shrugged his shoulders once more, though the motion was more drawn out. “In my opinion, psychohistory, by its very nature and tiniest workings, need not be confirmed. But are we not getting off-topic? It seems we are deviating from the issue that brought us all here today.”
Still grinning, the prosecutor said, “You are wrong in that respect, Mr. Stabledon. The council has evaluated your personal profile, and has determined that your method of prediction and your project are meshed together.”
“How so?”
Glancing at the judges above him, the prosecutor said, “We have obtained pieces of evidence, but the most prominent comes from you yourself. An audio recording.”
The screens went black, but the speakers worked, broadcasting static-less sound across each level.
“Mr. Stabledon, I’d hate to trouble you, but it seems we’ve run into a bit of a problem.”
Approximately half of the project members, including Crescent, turned to one of their own. The equine's jaw had dropped, but he quickly averted his eyes to the ground.
“What is it this time?” asked another voice—clearly belonging to Starswirl.
“A few dozen of our collaborators left a day ago—they turned in their resignation letters simultaneously. Most were tasked with gathering transformation spells while we focused on gravitational magic. To save us the hassle and focus, they planned on sending them to us altogether—it turned out that that wasn’t such a good idea to go with. This is a bit of a setback for the group.”
A brief wave of static flooded the speakers. “—How long?”
“What?”
“How many years will this set us back, do you think?”
“Oh… um… If we have to start from scratch, it could push our deadline back by a few years. Two at the very least. Don’t worry; we’ll work something out with them, if they don’t disappear first. I don’t think everything will be lost.”
The background noise ceased, as if the piece of audio already ended. But before the crowd could go back to muttering, the sound returned.
“You seem to be taking this hard, Mr. Stabledon.”
The voice belonging to Starswirl sighed. “There are a dozen other problems we are dealing with, and each brings with it a setback. The more that pile up, the worse it becomes. I am only stressed, but it will pass eventually.”
Another silence came, but no equine dared to speak.
“Stress isn’t good for your health,” said the project member. “I know you’re the most passionate of us regarding this project, Starswirl, but what’s really at stake if we don’t succeed in the end?”
“Our fates, Aura,” said Stabledon. “Perhaps the Empire’s fate, too.”
The voices stopped along with the static that hung in the background, and the screens resumed showing the important equines in the room.
Smiling victoriously, the prosecutor said, “As clearly defined in the recording—which featured your voice, Mr. Stabledon—the project is correlated to ‘the Empire’s fate.’ What could that mean?" He narrowed his eyes. "Is this project really a conspiracy set on destroying the Empire?”
The screen briefly panned by the judges’ balcony, showing that each equine it housed had narrowed their eyes towards Stabledon. The prosecutor smirked even wider as Starswirl lowered his head, staring at the insignia engraved into the surface of his platform.
Then Starswirl looked up quickly, his facial features stern. “You are wrong,” he said, a slight yet noticeable shift in his tone of voice. “You were wrong as well when you said that the Empire could fall. The truth is... the Equestrian Empire will fall. The calamity will not be caused by my hoof, of course, nor any hoof of the hundred thousand project members. The sheer idea of an infinitesimal amount of unicorns—compared to the quadrillions throughout the galaxy—destroying the Empire is laughable and completely insane.”
The prosecutor appeared dumbstruck, but he shook his head quickly and said, “So you deny the charges that you are committing treason?”
“I am,” said Starswirl. “I deny that my project is playing a part in the fall of the Empire.”
The prosecutor stepped back, shocked. His eyepiece flashed urgently, displaying whatever messages were being transmitted to him. “Then how could the Empire fall?” he said disbelievingly, not looking at his eyepiece at all. “The Empire! The single galactic society that has existed for over ten millenniums! Hundreds of lifetimes!”
Starswirl shook his head. “The Empire will fall because it is already in the process of falling. Already, at the very edge of the galaxy—far from the watchful eyes of the Empresses—the worlds of the periphery are decaying. The magical arts have been cast aside. This arcane decay will progress inward as the years pass. Within the next few centuries, Canterlot itself will be affected by those worlds. Without the guiding hoof of the Empire, galactic society will be engulfed in wars for thousands of years. The rate of technological progress will be dramatically reversed, sending all worlds into more primitive ages.”
The prosecutor appeared to be sweating. “How can any of us take anything you say with more than a grain of salt?”
“It honestly wouldn’t matter if you did or you didn’t,” said Stabledon with his own smirk. “The fall will happen regardless.”
“Then what do you propose we do, Mr. Stabledon, to save our Empire?” asked the prosecutor, his voice arrogant but leaking concern.
“We cannot save the Empire, yet—please!” Starswirl said loudly, quickly silencing the building commotion coming from the stands. “Let me continue! The Empire cannot be saved; no amount of unified effort on Canterlot’s part can prevent the fall. Still, we can lessen the period of chaos that will follow!
“The outer planets are decaying because they have forgotten their connections. The many arts Canterlotian unicorns have become acquainted with have been lost to time, as shown in numerous outer-world statistics on knowledge distribution. We must return this lost information to them through some means—and I have discovered a minimal, satisfactory way." Starswirl gazed down to the group containing Nova and Crescent. "My project—the group endeavor to compile the ever-expanding arcane sciences—will combat this problem. It will re-introduce the knowledge of magic to every worlds’ databases, so that even as advancements are forgotten, they can simply consult the compendium to rebuild what they have lost. And thus, the Next Empire will be formed from the scattered remnants of the last.” Stabledon turned his head to the nearest level of onlookers. “That is why my project is connected to my predictions.” He looked back to the judges. “That is why my project could have a stake in the Empire’s fate!
“My project is harmless. Whether or not it succeeds will not affect Canterlot in any way, shape or form anytime soon. Yet, its success could make the difference later on. In the end, though, it is your choice!” He looked up to the judges’ balcony, and both screens—including the one that constantly showed the Empresses—immediately changed perspectives to magnify the equines upon it. “Putting an end to my project will doom what we’ve come to know as Equestria to destruction. Letting it continue, however, could change that fate. Now that you know the truth, what is your decision?”
The judges and the prosecutor were silent, their eyes darting between each other. Stabledon waited, his expression unchanging, as they remained silent and leaned away from their microphones. Even as they muttered angrily to one another, they seemed blissfully unaware that their faces were being broadcasted to the entire courtroom.
All it took was one shout, and several more erupted from the crowd. The pent-up confusion that had developed in the masses burst out in the form of anger. Some insults were directed at Stabledon himself, others at the officials. Like a virus, it spread through the rows of equines on every level. Stabledon still stared at the balcony, while the prosecutor panicked, holding his hooves up to his eyepiece as it flashed brightly. Not even the loudest bang of the gavel could silence the rising commotion. Not even—
A piercing light! A shattering sound! Together they broke through the tense atmosphere of the room, reflecting and echoing from the marble walls of the entire chamber. It was a spell! The luminescence silenced everyone immediately, drawing their eye to the colorful, harmless blasts that stretched across the once-empty ceiling. When it ended, every equine turned to the highest balcony.
“This trial shall continue in private,” said Empress Celestia, her voice heard by everyone even though the screens and speakers had smoke billowing out from their circuitry. Her long horn illuminated the whole balcony, giving both her and Empress Luna an otherworldly aura. “All those not part of Global Security, or Stabledon’s project, will return to their daily activities at once.”
Hesitation gripped the crowd, but another flash of light burst; Luna’s horn now emitted a midnight blue color. Empress Luna added, “Do so quickly, effectively and safely, or you shall all face the repercussions for the violent behavior that Empress Celestia and I have had the misfortune of witnessing here.”
After a brief pause, the courtroom suddenly flowed like a well-oiled magi-collector, dispersing out in an organized manner while the colors of the Empresses’ spells hung above. Minutes later, once all clamor had ceased, Nova brought her head up and looked around. For a room that was filled to capacity minutes ago, the emptiness of the upper levels was ghostly. Stabledon remained standing, looking upward as if to lock gazes with the goddesses.
“Starswirl Stabledon shall be brought before us within the palace, in our personal chambers,” said Empress Luna. “The decision shall be made by our hooves, because of the breakdown we have witnessed in the court on this day.”
“With all due respect, your highness,” said the head judge, shaking away his shock, “you would be disregarding the established law by taking over so dramatically, unraveling our court system. There is no—”
The Empresses’ reply was instant and simultaneous. “Canterlotian Code of Courts, Article Four, Section Two.”
Frozen in place, the judge beckoned over a nearby pony with a holo-tablet. His face contorted as his eyes scanned the surface, but he bowed his head. “Yes, your excellencies.”
“Forgive me for interrupting, your highness,” said Stabledon, looking to Empress Celestia, “but my group must have adequate representation.”
“So be it!” said Empress Celestia. “Choose one, or choose all; it does not matter, for our minds have already been made. We await you, Starswirl Stabledon.”
And with those final words, the Global Security trial came to a close. Both Empresses turned their backs, walking into the dark hallway. The project members were led out of their row by nearby officers as the platform holding Stabledon lowered. The project members, and Nova, were lined up in two separate columns in the center aisle.
One of the judges walked with Stabledon, striding aggressively. “Choose your two representatives,” he tried to say with superiority, ignoring the bead of sweat running down his muzzle. “We will only allow two, for reasons of-”
“Security,” finished Starswirl. “No offense to your traditions, but I, along with every equine here, know at this point.”
The judge growled, but he backed away and paced angrily out of sight. Shaking his head after the judge's departure, Stabledon scanned the group, locking eyes with each equine.
“They will suffice,” he said, dragging his hoof in the direction of Crescent and Nova.
Wordlessly, Nova and Crescent stepped forward. Nova raised an eyebrow, and after looking over to Crescent and his fellow project members, she saw that they all wore puzzled expressions towards both her and Stabledon. Yet Starswirl’s reassuring look told otherwise. Before Nova could even open her mouth, she was ushered forward forcefully by the adorned palace guards.
“Starswirl... you should have chosen another unicorn,” she whispered, glancing back at the group of unicorns as they were led away.
Starswirl glanced at her. “Haven’t you always wanted to see the mystical Empresses, Nova?”
“I admit I did, but it was a foal’s dream. I’m not a part of all of this, so I shouldn’t have a say or play an important role. Excluding Crescent, there are forty-nine project members remaining who are far more qualified than I am as a representative.”
Stabledon, however, looked to path ahead. “And yet I would prefer to have equines I can fully trust. I have known you and Crescent longer than all the members of the project. For that reason, both of you are the best choices for this encounter—unless your time on Fillyan has changed you, which I doubt.”
Nova trembled and looked to Crescent for assistance. He also followed Starswirl’s example by not paying attention to their surroundings. “No, it hasn’t,” she answered, sighing in defeat.
“Then follow,” Starswirl replied. “And for your own safety, watch your tongue!”
Now separated from the group, Nova, Crescent and Starswirl were escorted into a polished, top-of-the-line shuttle, which rose from the outer courtroom landing pad to the Palace Grounds. During the commute, papers and digital receipts provided by the Empresses were passed between them. By leaving their signatures, they were swearing an oath of secrecy that could lead to dire consequences if broken.
Once they arrived at the Palace Grounds, the trio was immediately ushered in, stopping them from getting a good look of the exterior. They went through a maze of corridors, staircases and lifts—the amount of guards walking with them slowly thinning out—to an expansive, circular room. Clear water ran between otherworldly, colorful flowers along the outer tier. The ceiling was painted with a mural of circling stars in the spiral galaxy. It was both ancient and elaborate, details carved and sliced into the shining metal, which rusted along the edges. A fourth of the room’s circumference was a reinforced glass window, overlooking the fabled landscape that was Palace Grounds, and the city over by the horizon.
Then, taking her eyes away, Nova peered down to the pedestal centered in the private chamber. Seated upon it were two tall figures. Both alicorns were twice Nova’s height, forcing her to look up. Their eternal beauty—given off by their adorned gowns and every other feature they possessed—was a sight that she, and only a hoof-full of other equines, were indulging in at the moment. Nova’s mouth went partially agape, while Crescent’s eyes went wide.
Starswirl only blinked tiredly, keeping the same stern expression he wore during the trial.
“Good afternoon,” said Empress Celestia. Her white coat shined brilliantly, even through the darkness. “Starswirl Stabledon, Nova Sparkle, and Crescent Moon.”
At the mention of her name, Nova’s eyes opened up to the size of gemstones.
There was a scoffing sound that came from Empress Luna, and she shot a glare in their direction. “Go now, guards!” she said harshly.
The guards stepped back, surprised. “But, your highnesses—”
“Do not question us!” she snapped. “The members of Global Security had their chance in the courtroom, and they failed in their main task: the security of the Canterlot populace. Were it not for our intervention, the situation would have spiraled out of control, like it has before.”
Celestia rose from her seat. “For Global Security’s failure, we declare that Stabledon’s supposed treason is now our case,” she said. “It is stated in the Canterlotian Code of Courts that when a court session breaks down, a higher authority may take control.” Seeing the guards hesitate, she added, “Tell the Global Security officials not to worry; based on our prior knowledge and what we gained from the trial itself, we will make a suitable choice for Starswirl Stabledon and his group. Relay our intentions to your superiors.”
The guards stood firmly—almost defiantly—in place, but they backed away after seeing the Empresses’ horns glow faintly. The moment the door softly shut, a brighter glow emanated from Empress Luna’s horn.
“Is this part of your decision, your highness?” asked Nova, holding her right foreleg to stop it from trembling.
The answer Nova received was a powerful surge of magic that rippled out to the surrounding area. Nova yelped, but once the surge passed, she fell silent. The whole room went dark, the only light source being the natural light that filtered through the windows. The clamp of the metal cone that wrapped Nova's horn suddenly loosened, and she let it fall to the ground along with Crescent’s.
“No, it is not,” said Luna calmly.
“It serves to disable all surveillance within the room—arcane or electric,” continued Empress Celestia. “We would rather not be eavesdropped upon by our subjects, especially when we have instructed them that this is no longer their affair.”
“Now that that is out of the way,” began Luna, smiling, “would you all sit down? Perhaps have a drink? It is already past high noon, and you all must be hungry.” She gestured to a small banquet of food and drinks located on a nearby table. Glancing between Crescent and Nova’s bewildered faces, Luna frowned. “Please, I did not mean to frighten you with my outburst. It was not directed towards either of you, nor to Mr. Stabledon. As you can tell, Celestia and I must sometimes be aggressive to relay our point to our subjects.”
Again, Nova glimpsed at Stabledon, who refused to any show any amazement. It was as if he had learned to fall asleep with his eyes open. But he moved, creaking into the cushioned seat, signalling Nova and Crescent to sit beside him.
The Empresses sat on the opposite side of the table, watching as Nova and Crescent quietly and uneasily levitated utensils.
But before either of them could begin eating, Celestia said, “It has been far too long, Starswirl."
Starswirl stopped sipping his drink, and he sat back. “A decade and a half by my memory, Empress. You have aged beautifully, as always.”
Celestia laughed quietly. “And you still retain your charm. I wish I could say the same for the equines who grow old within these Palace Grounds, but they have lost themselves to the political process.”
Empress Luna nodded, but mainly looked upon Starswirl. “It is just another reason why it is very good to see you.”
“And you, too, Luna,” he replied eloquently, smiling frailly.
Neither the Empresses nor Stabledon seemed to realize that Nova and Crescent had stopped eating, their levitated utensils floating in the air.
“Mr. Stabledon,” interrupted Crescent, “you… you personally know the Empresses?” Celestia looked to him, and Crescent quickly averted his eyes by staring at his plate.
Turning back to Starswirl, Celestia asked, “Would you like them to know, Starswirl?”
Starswirl sipped his drink again. “I am confident they will not tell a soul.”
Luna took a gulp of whatever liquid was in her goblet, then she turned to Crescent Moon. She said, “Yes, we know each other well, young ones."
The magic enveloping Nova’s fork had fluctuated, causing the utensil to fall against the table. Nova’s ears turned red, but neither of the Empresses looked over to her.
Celestia glanced at Luna. “We know of Starswirl’s work pertaining to psychohistory. The past two decades have not been kind to our relationship; political affairs have drawn our attention elsewhere, and our subjects’ interest in him has prevented us from meeting together.”
“So, did you three plan this?” asked Crescent, looking to Starswirl, who briefly shook his head.
“No, I wished to speak to the Empresses again,” he said, “and assumed they wanted to speak to me in turn. That is what drove me to ‘grandstand’ before things broke down, furthering the tension.”
“And he was right in that assumption,” said Luna. “We purposely assigned that particular unicorn to be the prosecutor, suspecting that Starswirl could face him and more easily throw down his crowd-pleasing arguments. It would create much unease, generating a situation where we would step in. And even if Starswirl had failed, the riot would have begun from other planned methods. With the situation boiling over, we had the right to legally take authority over the trial away from Global Security, and put it into our hooves.”
Nova’s jaw fell to the table, and glancing over to Crescent, she practically saw the same thing.
“Your majesties,” began Crescent after closing his mouth with his free hoof, “if you do not mind me asking, were you both his... benefactors? I always thought Starswirl was receiving financial help from some equine who was funding him behind the project members’ backs.”
Luna said, “We made contributions to him, though not behind your backs, so to speak.” She shrugged casually. “We supplied him with technology ahead of its time years ago—some pieces are still more advanced than technology today. Around the time he created the project, we were cut off by striving politicians. So, technically, the contributions were not made without you knowing. But the original donations were necessary for psychohistory to be crafted as quickly as possible.”
“Yet if you believed in psychohistory, that means...” Nova fell silent.
“Yes, young one,” said Celestia. “Although it may pain you to hear this, we will say the truth. We also believe that our Empire is falling. We have known for a long time now, though there is little we can do to stop it.”
Nova’s resting hoof began shaking. “But you are the goddesses of the galaxy—the immortal beings, the most powerful spell-casters in history.” She rose from her seat. “There’s no way you can’t prevent the Empire from toppling! Your knowledge is endless, and—”
“Those are old tales, Nova Sparkle,” interrupted Celestia, wearing a calm expression. “Some tales have been warped uncontrollably, while others are widely spread to ensure obedience. We will tell you of our own volition that our knowledge is not endless, and that we can only clearly remember a fraction of the Empire’s lifetime. Like any equine, we forget much, too. Even our magical prowess will only take us so far. Not all the magic in the galaxy can help to quell the problems afflicting thousands of worlds and uncounted billions of equines." Celestia gazed down towards her empty plate of food. "We have tried time and again, but two beings alone, no matter how intelligent, cannot guide millions of worlds and cement every growing crack.”
Staring at the solemn face of Celestia, Nova stopped trembling and slowly sank back into her seat.
“And because we cannot hope to command Equestria in its entirety,” Luna continued, looking away from Celestia, “we sought better solutions. The most promising one we found in a Helicoltian pony decades ago.” Luna glanced over to Starswirl. “He had proposed a theory which piqued our interest. Psychohistory, even in its earliest stages, sounded like just what we needed.”
“Yet your original problem is unsolvable,” muttered Starswirl. “As I have said countless times: the Empire will fall no matter what. The trends of behavior and society cannot be altered; those will remain constant, as stated in psychohistory’s First Axiom. The Empire can be rebuilt into something better, as long as my project is kept on task.”
“And what you said in the courtroom is the truth?” said Luna.
“It is, your majesty. Once knowledge of magic is restored to the periphery, magi-tech will advance along with the Empire. Slowing the technological decay—perhaps even stopping it—is a crucial step in ensuring the preservation of galactic society after the fall.”
“But can we not know more than that?” asked Celestia, looking at Starswirl softly. “Can we know exactly when our Empire will fall? We want to be better prepared... we wish to save as much as we can... we want to—”
“No!” he interrupted fiercely. The Empresses fell silent, Celestia retracting her hoof defensively while Luna held her breath. “I have revealed too much already,” Starswirl huffed. “You will endanger the future—the success of my project—if you knew events ahead of time. It would lead you to purposely create deviations. Such foresight affects results, creating chaos where there shouldn’t be any. That is why I formed the Second Axiom, which states that no other must be aware of the predicted future events. I had warned you of that years ago.”
“Yes, I recall,” muttered Celestia. Her head sank a bit lower, and her expression flickered. “I understand your axiom, but—” She paused as Starswirl’s eyes narrowed, and she straightened her posture. “Never mind. I will not say more on the subject. Instead, let us move onto a new one: our verdict.”
Eyes opening wide, Nova asked, “S-Starswirl won’t be imprisoned, right? You’ve known each other for so long, and you went through all the trouble to put the decision into your hooves. Friends don’t just turn against other friends.”
Empress Celestia shook her head. “You are right and wrong in different respects. We are not turning against Starswirl, but we are placing him into a different type of prison. We guarantee you both that it is for his own protection, and the protection of his ideas and his work.
Turning to Starswirl, Celestia said, “You have angered many equines on this day. You had the audacity to claim that the reality of most Canterlotians is a facade. The general population will scrutinize their lives, and find hidden truths that others have been trying to keep away from the public eye. You have also made enemies within Canterlot’s system of courts and commissions, becoming a target for future endeavors. Corruption runs in places where Luna and I cannot extract without bringing down our own government—an impossible and impractical solution, I might add. Needless to say, you and the participants will find life much more difficult if your project remains based on Canterlot.”
“Do you suggest we move to a different world?” asked Crescent.
“Moving to another inhabited planet is not a solution either,” continued Luna. “You cannot remain close to Canterlot, or else officials will still see you as a threat.”
“Another—” Crescent stopped, his eyes shooting open.
Empress Celestia nodded. “Luna and I have discussed this greatly, and our solution is final. We will send you, and the members of your project—including the hundred thousand who have been deemed ‘connected’ to you by the officialdom—to an uninhabited world far from Canterlot.”
“H-how far?” stammered Nova.
“As far as one can go from the center of the galaxy without entering Void Space itself: the edge of the galaxy, on a habitable world discovered centuries ago. The founder named it Terminus.”
“It is the safest place,” said Luna, “and the perfect environment—politically-wise—for your group to continue its task. The untamed ecological system of Terminus is a radical change from that of Canterlot, but that can be corrected to fit your group’s preferred conditions. Still, no equine will trouble or interrupt your efforts. You will quickly fade from the memories of those officials who feel threatened. Then you will work in complete peace... “
“...with the protection of the Empire kept securely at your backs,” added Celestia.
Luna nodded. “And once your group’s part is done, they can freely return. Yet how long shall the task take?”
Starswirl looked upon them gravely. “Through my calculations and estimates, it will take decades to assemble the compendium. Perhaps it will take decades longer to spread it from world to world. By then, a new generation of unicorns would have been born and lived their lives on Terminus.”
“So within a century,” muttered Celestia. “We have that long, don’t we? I believe you gave us that much information during the trial.”
“And I will give you no more than that.”
Celestia nodded, solemnly. “The collection of all project members will take place soon. The difficult part will be contacting the participants, but Global Security’s list for your trial will likely aid us.
“Now, you are dismissed, Starswirl. You will remain in this room for now until we convey our verdict and schedule the migration. All devices within this room are still disabled, so feel free to discuss the future amongst yourselves.”
Nova snapped to attention as the Empresses rose from their seats. She spoke up. “It... it was an honor, Empresses. A...”
“Dream come true?” finished Luna, smiling softly. “It was a pleasure, Nova Sparkle. If we weren’t so busy at the time, we would have fulfilled Starswirl’s request to bring you here as a foal.”
Nova flushed, her jaw muscles failing again.
“We hope you enjoyed your experience here today. And you, too, Crescent Moon.” Under both Empresses’ gazes, Crescent remained speechless, but he bowed low to the floor.
Both Empresses turned to Starswirl. Celestia opened her mouth, but Luna quickly stepped forward. “Before I forget,” she said, “I believe we have something that belongs to you.”
Empress Luna’s horn lit up, and as if from nowhere floated a black orb no larger than her hoof. Nova stared at the item with interest as Luna said, “Global Security acquired this during their raid of your home. I remember it was a magi-tech item we gave you long ago, though Global Security could not view its contents.” She looked down at the orb. “Even we could not inspect it further without outright destroying it.”
Stabledon stared at the reflective orb, as if transfixed. But he shut his eyes and said, “You may keep it, Luna. I have no use for the Prime Magiant now, and the farther it is from me the better. Think of it as something to remember me by.” His eyes narrowed, and he trotted forward to Luna. He whispered indistinctly into her ear, and Luna’s stern gaze faltered.
“Very well,” she replied, tucking the orb into her gown pocket. “If that is your final wish, we shall fulfill it.”
Empress Celestia looked between Starswirl and Luna, but she nodded. “I suppose this will be our final farewell, then.” Starswirl nodded solemnly, and Celestia bit her lower lip. Before the silence could grow to dominate the room, she gracefully bowed, and the tip of her alicorn horn touched Starswirl’s forehead, glowing brightly before she pulled away. Locking eyes with him, Celestia waited as Empress Luna performed the same gesture.
“Am I truly worthy to receive both of your blessings, your highnesses?” asked Starswirl. The Empresses nodded immediately, a tear running down Luna’s cheek as Celestia averted her eyes. “I see. Then… farewell to the both of you,” he said quietly with a frown. “Yet, while this may be the last time you see me, you may both see the fruits of my labors.”
* * *
“The edge of the galaxy!” exclaimed Crescent Moon disbelievingly, once it was just him, Nova, and Starswirl in the room.
“Yes,” said Stabledon, “I know. It is not as bad as you think, Crescent.”
“But, Starswirl, do you realize what delays this will have on our task?”
“Yes,” he repeated, “and I have stated them already to the Empresses themselves.” Starswirl dusted his black suit with his hoof. “It was going to take decades anyway. While I normally dislike setbacks, this is a reasonable one. If you have a problem with it, you could sprint out of this room, chase down the Empresses and openly question their authority.”
Crescent Moon bit his lip, his gaze falling to the ground. “No... I... I just... I’m overwhelmed, Starswirl. This whole day has taken too many turns for my tastes. First the trial, then the reveal that we are playing a part in saving equinekind from probable destruction, then meeting the Empresses face-to-face, then discovering that they’ve worked with you... funded you, for eternity’s sake! It’s very difficult for me to calm down.”
“Then follow Nova’s example.” Starswirl glanced to her with a smirk. “She seems calmer.”
“That’s because she isn’t a part of all of this! She isn’t part of our project, and that means she isn’t included in the Empresses’ verdict. Her life won’t be drastically changed, as over a hundred thousand lives will be within the next year.”
Starswirl shrugged. “Not yet, that is.”
“Yet?” inquired Nova, her ears perking up.
Starswirl began, “You are not technically classified as part of the Stabledon group. I believe you are qualified, though. Reputations and records stick with equines, even as years pass.” Starswirl stepped closer to Nova. “On Fillyan, you published a great deal of scholarly work, am I correct?” He waited for Nova to nod, and said, “You already have experience in this sort of field, and the necessary credentials to become a unicorn of the project.”
Nova bit her lip and asked, “Were you going to ask me to join upon my return?”
Starswirl nodded, slowly shrugging his shoulders. “If I were not arrested, I would have. But I anticipated it. Global Security would have come eventually.”
“I...” Nova looked between Starswirl and Crescent, then gazed to the ground. “Sorry, Mr. Stabledon, but I don’t have a choice in the matter.” But just as Starswirl's expression flickered, Nova grinned widely. “I have to go with you all at this point.”
Starswirl frowned at her before he himself grinned, but Crescent peered at her strangely. He asked, “Why do you not have a choice?”
“Because I sat amongst you all. I was there at the trial. Global Security knows I witnessed a very personal meeting between Starswirl and the Empresses. In their books… I might as well be the fifty-first project member already.” She looked out the window, towards the distant city. “If I stay here on Canterlot, I will become a target without a doubt.”
Starswirl placed a hoof over Nova’s shoulder. “I am sorry that I wrapped you up in all this, but it is splendid to hear you are coming,” he said, his wrinkled lips still curled upwards.
“I don’t hold anything against you,” she replied. “In fact… I’m sort of looking forward to travelling so far out into the galaxy.”
“Good. Keep that motivation strong within your heart for the coming months.” Starswirl brought a hoof to his mouth and let out a low yawn. “Now, today’s multitude of events have tired me out. Leave me be for a few minutes to gather my wits. There is much to say to the other project members once we are brought back to them, such as introducing our fifty-first volunteer.”
Nova blushed, but she glanced at Crescent. “Are you sure, Starswirl? Don’t you want company?”
He smiled again, dryly. “No, I am quite all right.” Turning away, he whispered, “I am beyond all right.”
* * *
Starswirl Stabledon—soon-to-be exiled pony of the Empire—sat by the window overlooking the horizon. His eyes trailed through the dense glass of the Palace tower, absorbing the colors emitted by the lush landscape. In the distance was one of the hundreds of cities established on the perfect planet, an everlasting paradise to some.
It was too bad such bliss would not last.
He turned his attention to the few passing clouds in Canterlot’s atmosphere. To most planet-bound citizens, it was the only expanse they had ever seen. But Stabledon saw past the blue sky, moving into the vacuum of space, going farther and farther until he could observe the star-filled galaxy teeming with equine life. From that perspective he broke the Empire down into separate equations, each simplifying the behavior of groups. The numerical values changed as time accelerated, lowering and raising to frantic levels. The situation would grow worse. The magnificent Empire would recede, then collapse. If a mathematician could see what he was seeing, they would lose all hope for their lives, their world and civilization itself.
Then, among the chaos and ruin of the worlds, Starswirl saw a shining sphere at the boundary of the fallen Empire. It pushed away the darkness, regulating the unbalanced equations, returning harmony to the war-torn galaxy and restoring the era of peace and order.
This was an outcome worth fighting for—worth the lifetime he had spent perfecting his science.
Starswirl grinned, knowing that the inner workings of his plan—of psychohistory itself—had been set in motion.
